For a year, Chuck had dipped his toe into vigilantism. Packed on twenty pounds of muscle. Built tools for Meg. Helped her launch the Jaybird social media accounts. However, although he was involved, he wasn't committed. At any time, he could've walked away. Gone to Yale and told stories of Meg at frat parties.

But that night, the circumstances had changed. Gone were the days of having a foot in each world.

Tonight, I'll have to make a decision, Chuck realized as they stepped outside so Meg could smoke a cigarette. I'm either in or out.

Monster ran into the yard, distracted by a squirrel. The little creature scampered up a tree and stood on a low-hanging branch, chittering at the dog and shaking an angry fist. The braid of hair rose from Monster's back and formed a fist of its own--which was much more impressive than the rodent's. With a squeak of fear, the squirrel dropped back to all fours and scampered higher into the tree.

Chuck and Meg stood on the porch. It was a new moon, the sky pitch dark save for the few constellations that weren't erased by light pollution.

"If I'm doing this, I have three rules," Chuck said. He lifted a finger. "One: I want this to be my decision. Which means I need time to think. No pressure. If I commit my life to this, I want to ensure I'm doing it for the right reasons."

Meg leaned against the back of a patio chair and blew smoke into the night. "It should be your decision," she said. "I've already made mine, and I didn't make it lightly. You should have the same opportunity. Monster, you need to consider this, too."

Monster stared into the darkness beyond the treehouse. He'd been distracted by another animal--another squirrel, perhaps, or one of his hated rabbits--but at the sound of his name, his head whipped around.

"I have considered," he said. "My magic fur and I are in."

Chuck gripped the wooden railing of the porch, which was still damp from his impromptu shower. Luckily, the smell had dissipated. He leaned over and looked down at his dog. "Are you sure, Monster?" he said. "There's no rush to come to a decision. You can take some time to think about this."

Monster licked his lips. "Good boys don't think too hard, Chuck. They make their decisions and love the consequences. That is my way, and it's how I approach this situation and every other situation that has ever involved me!"

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Chuck wished he could adopt a similar philosophy, but it wasn't in his nature. Meg took another drag of her cigarette. "Take as much time as you need," she said. "I don't want you coming to me ten years from now after a mission has gone wrong and saying, 'Argh, Meg, it's your fault I got my arm blasted off. Now, everyone is calling me One Arm. I regret everything, and I blame you!'"

From below the deck, Monster gave a pained whine. Chuck leaned over the railing again, and the dog looked up, his eyes doleful. "That won't really happen, will it?"

Meg joined Chuck at the railing. He felt their closeness and smelled her coconut shampoo. But she didn't touch him--true to her word, she wouldn't do anything to pressure him. At the end of the day, he needed to make his own decision--and if he couldn't love the consequences, deciding for himself would allow him to live with them.

"It's a hypothetical," Meg said. "That means it's like... a pretend scenario for the purpose of explanation."

"Oh! I'm still learning about those." Monster sat and broke into a grin, his ears pointing straight up. "But that's a relief!"

Chuck swallowed. Monster was in, at least, but he wouldn't let that sway him. He lifted another finger. "Rule number two. If I say yes and the three of us move forward here, we agree we're in this together. For better or worse. Until death do us part. The team comes first. Yes?"

Meg nodded. "Dramatic, but I like it. That's fair. I'm sure that as we get older, we might disagree on certain things. But we never let it get in the way of our friendship. We talk it out like adults, and if we can't settle it with words, we'll wrestle over it. I agree on that--the team comes first."

"Forever and always!" Monster said.

Chuck nodded, then held up a third finger. "Three. This is dangerous work, and there's a good chance at least one of us might die. If that happens, the ones who survive don't mope. We can avenge each other--I say that because I know that if I die, you're going to avenge me, anyways, so I won't even try to stop you, but--"

"Oh, I'd avenge you, all right," Meg interrupted. "I'd avenge you so hard."

"--but there's no sinking into depression," Chuck continued. "We're all making independent choices to participate. We're doing this for ourselves. Because we've all dreamed about becoming superheroes since we were kids."

"I dream about rabbits," Monster interrupted. "And I was never a kid. Can I still participate?"

"Yes," Chuck said. "I'm not being literal. I'm just making a general--"

"Are you being hypothetical?"

"I'm not--" Chuck sighed. "My point is--"

"I understand your point," Meg said. "Monster, he's saying this is dangerous. The very real truth is that any of us could die. The people we're trying to stop don't share our values, and they won't hesitate to torture, hurt, or even kill. That's the sobering reality, and I'm not even talking about who are truly evil. There's also a chance some of these people--like the Chef--might even have powers to match our own."

When Monster spoke, his voice was surprisingly level. "It has been duly noted," he said. "Do you like that? Duly noted? I heard it on a show once. I think it's perfect for the situation! Anyways, I understand. I stand by my choice."

Chuck nodded. He felt better having laid out his terms. It meant speaking his decision was easier. "Okay," he said. "In that case, I've made up my mind. This is everything I've ever wanted. Let's do it."