Marker One-Sixteenth Scenario

"Delta One. Defensive positions," I ordered.

Jermaine spreads his fingers, creating an interlocking wall of red energy facing the door. Bernard's hands glow green, ready for whatever comes through. Cynthia's rifle is perfectly aimed at head height for whoever comes through the door. Cole and Bruce are prepped and ready to respond to the situation. Gary's standing behind us with his hands out, and he'll activate his ability as soon as anything happens. I'm sure the guards are all nervous, not knowing what will happen next. But it might be worse if they knew what these people were capable of. That man has gathered a terrifying group to follow him. They're well-drilled and quick to respond to every plan I've attempted.

"Knock knock. Room service," Tuesday called through the door again.

We don't respond, sitting silently as the scenario's time dwindles. The door bursts open, and smoke rushes into the room. I wait for Gary to activate his ability, but he doesn't. I hear a gurgling struggle behind me, and I turn to look at the source of the sound. Gary's face is covered in a wet black liquid. Is that ink? He's choking, and I catch a glimpse of something wiggle from inside his mouth. An insect, but where did it come from? Alchemist's screams are cut short, dragging my attention off the dying man. Centipedes made of ink are crawling all over everyone's bodies and faces. One of them falls onto my face, and I look up at the ceiling. The vent cover is undone, and a wave of insects is pouring out of it. They're dropping off the ceiling to land on us. I swat another one out of the air, but more and more are coming. I trip as I'm standing up and fall to the floor. The inky creatures crawl all over me, burying me beneath a pile of them. Panic sets in as they force themselves into my mouth and nose. I bite down, and all it does is fill my throat with ink. I am trapped in a world of insects and drown in a sea of black.

Marker One-Thirtieth Scenario

"Room service," Tuesday said through the door.

They are a band of fucking psychos. Each scenario has shown me there is no end to the depths of their depravity. Nothing I've tried has resulted in finding out anymore about the leader beyond that he has recruited a group of sickos. I've died in countless ways. I've been cooked alive, disemboweled, asphyxiated, torn in half, chopped to pieces, shot to death, and even drowned in ink. The last one was the worst one by far. Knowing that there's a swarm of ink centipedes in the ducts, ready to crawl down my nose and mouth, is disturbing, to say the least.

Where did these people come from? A group as tight-knit and drilled as them should have made headlines before. Nothing came up in our research into their backgrounds. There are no known Cowls that go by Tuesday, and there weren't any results for a Cowl that matches Isaiah's powerset. Same for the man in the white helmet. I don't even know his name.

I've reached my limit in maintaining this marker. Already, the headache is becoming too much to bear. I'm rarely forced to use my power so many times in a short period, and the repeated traumatic deaths have admittedly shaken me. I'm going to need to wait till tomorrow at the earliest before attempting to use my power again. I cancel my marker, feeling it fade from existence. I need to warn the others.

"Alchemist, we have guests coming, and they are very dangerous. The man who sent Tuesday and Isaiah to the bar to make contact is here with the rest of his group. There are seven of them, and they've taken all of our guards out. I wasn't able to ascertain their status. I won't be much help in what is to come. I overused my ability," I said.

"Do not worry, Mr. Kim. Alchemist and I will handle the rest from here," Prophet said.

"What about their threat level?" Alchemist asked.

"As a group? They are seventeen or higher," I warned my partners.

"Seventeen?" Alchemist asked incredulously.

"Yes. The two of you should treat these negotiations with the care they require. Their leader somehow knew about my ability and was ready to counteract it," I said.

"Interesting," Prophet said.

"None of our guards are able to do anything to them if they decide to attack. They collapsed the hotel in one of my scenarios. Just keep that in mind," I said.

"The strength of a potential business ally is important, but it isn't the most important quality. Profitability is, first and foremost, the deciding factor. I'll die before I willingly take a loss," Alchemist said.

I hope we don't have to test that.

"Come in, Tuesday," I said, tiredly.

The door slowly opens, revealing the colorful Cowl. She's frowning, or it might be better to say she's pouting for some reason.

"You're taking the fun out of this. You know that?"

"The rest of your group should come in as well. You're all here for a reason, aren't you?" I asked.

"BOSS! They're ready to see you now," Tuesday shouted.

Dark smoke rolls in like a soupy fog, spreading all over the floor. Tuesday moves to the left of the doorway, and then the ink user comes in and takes a position opposite her. The next one in is the one with the rubber vampire mask and a transforming arm. It's normal right now, but I remember what it can turn into, and I won't let my guard down. He stands next to Tuesday, and then the fire-wielding werewolf mask comes in and takes his place beside the ink user. The next person in is Isaiah, and he stands next to the vampire. I can already tell what they're aiming for, but I let it play out. The Shifter comes in and takes position facing Isaiah. Is the order important? It could be symbolic, showing that the monster is his right hand.

All sound in the room vanishes abruptly, and from the looks on my group's faces, it is a shared phenomenon. I'm becoming acutely aware of the feeling of my heart beating in my chest, to the point where I can almost hear it. Six spirals appear amongst the ankle-high carpet of smoke. The spirals start to rise, stretching to become cone-shaped as they grow until they resemble poles. The werewolf mask flicks an orb of fire into the air. It splits into six smaller flames, and each one flies to the newly formed smoke poles. Finally, the man with the white helmet enters, walking confidently. The face projection is blank, revealing nothing about him or his thoughts.

The vampire falls in behind him as the leader stops halfway between the door and where we are. They reach into their left sleeve, searching for something. Moving in front of their boss, we all watch as they grow a long meeting table out of thin air. By the time it's finished growing, it's sixteen feet long. The vampire moves back behind their boss and repeats the trick with a black shellback throne. How are they doing this? Five more chairs are summoned, nice, comfortable chairs, but it's clear the stark difference between ours and his.

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The woman with ink powers takes the seat to his left, while the Shifter takes the spot on his right. So the Shifter is the second in command, but why does the ink user get the other seat? I expected Tuesday or Isaiah to take the seat, but instead, they remain standing behind their leader. It's pretty obvious what the three seats on our end signify. Clearly, our guards aren't worth a seat to them. Alchemist and Prophet look to me for assurances about their safety. I could and probably should check with my power, but my head hurts too much just thinking about it. The difference between the first thirty scenarios and the thirty-first is minuscule. There isn't anything I could learn in one scenario that would change the outcome of this meeting. I nod to my associates and walk to the table, taking my seat. I'll leave the center spot to one of them. Alchemist ends up taking it, and Prophet takes the other. All of the smoke starts to converge on Isaiah, disappearing into him. The hovering flames wink out, and the sound returns to the room. Now it begins.

"Sorry to call on you so late, but it seems like my invitation got lost in the mail. I don't normally do house calls, but I figured we should all meet face-to-face. You met Tuesday and Isaiah already, but the woman to my left is Rorschach. She's my financial advisor. To my right is my second in command," he said, gesturing to the Shifter.

His voice is distorted, sounding like three people taking over each other. It takes me a second to place it, but it's a mix of myself, Alchemist, and Prophet of Profit. How is he doing that?

"V," she said, not offering any other information.

"I am Alchemist, along with Prophet of Profit, and this is Mr. Kim," Alchemist responded.

"Oh, we've met," he said, his face smiling slyly.

"And who are you? What is your preferred nom de guerre?" Alchemist asked.

"I may have overestimated Mr. Kim's capabilities if you are unaware of my name. No matter, I am Nobody," Nobody answered.

"Well, Nobody, most people would say that what you've done tonight could be seen as a declaration of war against our organization," Alchemist said.

"I can understand why you might see it that way, but rest assured, your guards are all alive. They may require some healing or surgery, but I figured The Merchants must have fantastic healthcare. If you're referring to us showing up here unannounced, then that really is just a matter of perspective. I come to you with a possible joint business venture that is quite literally priceless, and I've been met with disregard and disrespect. All I've done is show you the same level of respect you've shown me," Nobody said, his face expressionless.

"We are members of The Board; that is enough to show you how our organization feels about this. Assaulting a potential business partner's employees and breaking into their hotel room are not exactly friendly," Alchemist retorted.

"Enough. Don't be upset that he saw through your schemes, Alchemist. We will call this even, Nobody. We can begin discussions on an equal footing. So tell us your pitch; what are you selling?" Prophet asked.

"Before I begin, Tuesday, can you make sure our conversation remains private?" Nobody asked.

What does that mean?

"One secret meeting coming up!" She said joyfully.

She puckers her lips and blows a raspberry. Whatever she is doing doesn't seem to be working. Nothing seems to have changed in the room. What is she doing? None of the people with Nobody are reacting to her outburst, so they must know something we don't, or they are used to her nonsense.

"Thank you. I am selling the opportunity to become a Neuvohuman without triggering. I am offering the chance that many secretly hope for: to have superpowers," Nobody said.

This is where Prophet of Profit's power is most valuable. Alchemist and I take a look over at our colorful companion. His power will decide if negotiations can continue or if we bow out. Prophet's face is painted so that his face is divided in half by a horizontal line right below his nose. The top half is painted shades of orange and yellow to mimic the rising sun. The bottom half is pitch black except for the pale yellow crescent moon mimicking a smile on his face. His outfit is some genderfluid half-dress half-suit thing. This generation doesn't understand the word subtlety. He taps his long, silver, coned fingers against the table, trying to decipher whatever his power is telling him.

"How do you plan to do that?" Prophet asked after remaining silent for over ten minutes.

"Because I am able to remove powers permanently. And then give them to someone," Nobody said, smiling.

WHAT?

"WHAT?" Alchemist shouted, echoing my thoughts.

"My ability is quite literally a one-in-a-trillion power. It is priceless. I'm sure the three of you are already astutely realizing what that means. There are billionaires who would give their entire fortune for the chance to get powers. Also, that means The Merchants can keep the powers your members have within the organization. You would no longer have to worry about a member retiring or growing too old and losing the power," Nobody said.

So, did he give all of these people powers? Is that how he gathered so many strong people with diverse abilities? We could handpick our guards to make sure we only had ones with acceptable personalities, as opposed to having to deal with less-than-ideal candidates due to their power.

"Nearly incalculable. The amount of wealth a partnership could generate would eclipse certain countries' GDPs. We cannot make this decision; this requires a vote," Prophet said.

He thinks we need The Board to vote? What is his power showing him? It's not the first time that I've envied another Mentalist's ability. My own power is extremely useful, and I've had it for decades. Long enough to know exactly how to use it to its full potential. But this man could allow me to have a different ability, something more offensive or better suited to my tastes.

"Are you sure?" Alchemist asked.

"In regard to what?" Prophet asked.

"HEY!" Nobody shouted, slamming his hand against the table. "My moniker might be Nobody, but you will not treat me like one. I have shown you courtesy and patience; do not test the limits of either, or you will not like the outcome. Now, explain what you meant with the vote thing."

"The Merchants isn't a gang or a group like the Heroes' Union. We are a business, a company, if you will. For a partnership that will affect the market so significantly will require The Board to convene, and a vote will be held. If it passes, which it likely will, then we can start talking about formalizing an agreement," Alchemist answered.

"Yeah, that's not happening. I can count on both hands the number of people who know about my power, and that's including you three. I'm not interested in more people knowing my secret, and I have no problem finding ways to keep the number low. I won't pretend to know anything about how your organization's power structure is set up, and I honestly don't give a fuck. Let me be frank, either we make a deal or I kill everyone here. Either way, my secret stays secret," Nobody said, his faux face still expressionless.

He's serious. The way he so casually talks about exterminating everyone here isn't the alarming thing. It's that I've witnessed his conviction. He will bury everyone in this building if that's what it takes to keep his secret. Most of the Cowls that The Merchants have dealt with are the even-tempered ones, or the ones who understand the importance of order. But this man is neither. He is a beast pretending to be a person, a madman masquerading as a rational human.

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