Thinker shrugged. “Honestly, I think I already know what I’m going to do. I think I have a good grasp on what your powers and capabilities are, and they’re too good to pass up. And assuming you’re not a complete asshole, I’m sure you’ll get along fine with the others.”

“So, I’m in? Just like that?”

Thinker frowned. “Well, no. Not quite yet. I don’t have an obstacle course for you or anything, but we’ll have to, er, ‘field test’ you just to be sure. Nothing you can’t manage, I think. And beyond that, we need to discuss expectations.”

“Expectations?”

“What we expect from you coming in, and more importantly, what you expect from us. I know that a lot of organizations want you, ‘heroic’ ones, villainous ones and everything in between. But you’ve responded to us, to Scalpel, and not anyone else.”

Mark nodded. “So which are you? You’re not heroic, no offense, but villainous?”, he said. “You called yourself a supervillain earlier. Thinker, I- “

“Neel”, he corrected. “I’m not wearing a mask right now.”

“Neel. I don’t know if I would call myself a villain. That was my expectation walking in, that I wouldn’t be signing up to be a villain. Because I’m sorry but I’m not down for killing people, or hurting them. I can barely stomach all the theft I do. I’m a criminal. Not something to be proud of, but I’m not a villain, and I have no interest in being one.”

“You’ve looked into us, I hope. You know that Scalpel hasn’t killed anyone so far. And we’ve hurt barely a handful of people, civilians I mean- we’ve fought other criminals-slash-villains and occasionally law enforcement of course- and the civilians we did hurt were usually accidents or out of desperation. Honestly, our pacifism hurts our rep a little bit, but Scalpel, and me, feel the same way- no killing, no hurting.”

Mark had already learnt this- It was the first thing he checked. Scalpel had a good track record, for a criminal organization, at least. Only one member- Butterfly- was wanted for murder, and that was before she joined Scalpel. One murderer was probably one murderer too many for Mark, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to be choosy. He couldn’t go to the more heroic or neutral organizations since they were obligated to turn him over to the government. The other side of the law was his only bet. But the other side of the law had everything from superpsychos to Abnormal gentleman thieves. Finding the right one was tough- a balance that was probably unreasonable to ask for in this line of work. But Scalpel came close.

“But I disagree that we’re not villains. Let’s not kid ourselves. We routinely break the law, murder or no. We use our considerable powers to gain an unfair advantage over everyone else. And we do it for selfish reasons. If we’re going to do it, we might as well own up to it”, Neel continued.

Mark sighed. He was right, and it was an argument Mark had had with himself more than once.

Mark spoke. “Maybe. Ok, good. I guess that’s one of my expectations. No evil shit, regardless of what we call ourselves. Then there’s the other thing. Protection.”

Neel nodded. “I figured. I think I know most of the story already, but tell me everything, anyway.”

‘Everything’ was probably a bit much. Mark had no interest in talking about his biology or the chip in his brain or his mother. Perhaps just the last few months would do.

“Well, there’s not much to say, really. When my abilities initially manifested, I turned myself over to the government, thinking they would know how to better handle it. It took them all of a month before I was carted off to the NSA and they started using me to do shady shit. Stuff I wasn’t comfortable with- violations of privacy on an unprecedented scale, asking me to build scary tech, you get the idea.”

“So, you left. But you underestimated how difficult it would be to just leave.” There was a hint of smugness in his voice. Mark wondered if that had to do with Neel’s own service in the military.

“Yeah, it was pretty crazy. The way they were after me, you’d think I was some kind of superpsycho. And… somehow information about me, who I was and what I could do, got out. Maybe they did out of spite or maybe it was just a leak, I don’t know. But now it feels like fucking everyone is after me. Some of them are almost nice about it. Some of them are not. So, I’ve been on the run, for barely three months now, and if there’s one thing that’s clear to me,”

“You can’t do this on your own”, Neel concluded. He tapped his fingers against the table. “I won’t lie. Protection isn’t really our thing.”

Mark knew this too. Scalpel stuck to robberies- art galleries, museums, private residences, occasionally banks. They also dabbled in the mercenary business, attacking criminal organizations or other villain groups for money. Disrupt an organization here, get some criminals arrested there. They tended to make their attacks quick and quiet ambushes, avoiding full on fights as much as they could. Hence the name.

“We’re not Cataclysm or the Red Lovers- we don’t strike terror in people’s hearts. But we’ve managed to build a reputation over the past two years, and people will hesitate to simply attack us. I can’t promise you’ll be safe, no one can, but I do think you’re about a million times better off joining us. If one day some group or the other shows up looking for you, you can expect us to have your back.”

“I wondered if I should join some of the more combative groups for better protection, but those seem to have more blood on their hands.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the right way to go, Mark. The way I see it, the end goal isn’t about protection. There are plenty of useful powers out there. Take, I don’t know, Paradox. She can send messages back through time. Unbelievably useful, and yet she doesn’t have people looking to ‘recruit’ her.”

“Cos she’s Paradox. You don’t recruit her; you work for her.”

“Exactly. The best way to fix your problem is to stop being an asset and start being a player. People are thinking of you as a thing to be used. To ever get this to truly stop, they need to think about you as a threat that they have to look out for. Do it right, and the thought of using you doesn’t even come up. And I think that we can help you with that transition.”

Mark saw the logic in that. But the idea of being a him being a threat to anyone seemed both laughable and concerning. It seemed the sort of thing that you’d have to cross a line to accomplish.

“I guess. But that goes back to the thing I said earlier, about not wanting to be a villain. I don’t know if I want to be a ‘player’.”

Neel shrugged. “You don’t have many options here. Unless you want to be on the run for the rest of your life, scurrying from one group to the other for protection.”

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“Yeah”, Mark sighed. “I figured. Protection and no overt villainy. Those are my only real expectations, I guess. Oh, and um, how does this work, financially?”

“We divide our spoils equally; six ways if you join. I suppose that brings me to my own expectations. Just one, really.”

Mark frowned. As far as he was aware, Scalpel only had four members. But never mind that. “What is it?”

“Scalpel’s M.O has traditionally been to keep a low profile. We do our best not to make the news, we move around the country to avoid becoming a common name in any one city, and we make it so that law enforcement thinks their time is better spent going after other masks. However… not this time. This time we’re going to do something big.”

Mark didn’t like the sound of that. “What does that mean?”

“It’s why I reached out to you. I need more firepower for this job. This one is definitely not going to be low profile. It’s going to attract attention and that’s the point. So, I need you to be up for that. And don’t worry; there’s still going to be no killing or hurting.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell you that until you’re officially a member, sorry.”

“I don’t know. I’m not liking the sound of this. I need to know more.”

Neel sighed. “I figured as much.” Neel looked away as if to consider what to say next. His eyebrows were creased in faint frustration. He took a few seconds until he spoke again.

“Twenty-five million dollars.”

“What? That’s the score?”

“Sort of, yes.”

Mark took that thought in. Twenty-five million dollars, split six ways. “Four million each? That’s- “

“Twenty-five million each.”

“Bullshit.”

Neel shrugged. “Told you it was a big one.”

“Twenty-five million isn’t big, it’s astronomical.” Mark wasn’t sure how to take this. What kind of job would net twenty-five million dollars? Each? “This is sounding really sketchy. Even if you weren’t shitting me, this sounds like the kind of thing that would make people come after me for the rest of my life.”

“You already have people coming after you. And you pull this off, you’ll make that transition we talked about. We pull this off, and people are going to line up to work for you. This is half the reason I chose you as opposed to any other new kid out there. You’re good for the job, and the job is good for you.”

Mark stood up and started pacing a bit. It was still drizzling, and he felt the little impacts of rain on his hair. Neel was staring at him.

“This feels like some kind of scam”, Mark admitted. “But that’s not the way you guys operate, and I don’t think you’re lying. But that’s like, the whole point of a scam. Just. Twenty-five fucking million dollars, what do I make of that?”

Neel sighed again and reached into his jacket-cape. He pulled out a phone and switched it on. Immediately, Mark felt the phone’s presence; he resisted the urge to go snooping through it.

Neel tossed the phone to him. Catching it, Mark gave him a quizzical look.

“Go ahead. Do your thing. There’s a couple of bank accounts on that phone. Look around. Together they add up to about twenty-eight million. You’ll see the three million is older, and the twenty-five was received only about two months ago.”

“Oh. Um, are you sure? When I do my thing, I get full access to your phone- I see everything, not just what you want me to see.”

“I trust you’re not stupid enough to mess with my money. And there’s nothing else on it. I anticipated I would have to do something like this, so I bought a phone just for this meeting.”

There’s always something else on it, Mark thought. Always some traces to something else. But he didn’t say anything. He reached out with his power and he felt the response. A mere suggestion from him, and software rearranged itself to satisfy his wishes. He felt the information stream through the chip in his brain- information from four different bank accounts. He had twenty-eight million, and twenty-five of it was recent. Holy shit.

Mark threw the phone back at him. Neel immediately began switching it off. “You already have the money? What’s the job for then?”

“The job isn’t a robbery. The job itself isn’t about money. We’re being, let’s say contracted, to do a job and we’re being paid up front.”

“I’m sorry, someone is paying us twenty-five million dollars up front, each? You said six ways. Someone is paying up a hundred and a fifty million dollars up front? You realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

Neel smiled. “Definitely. But you saw it- twenty-five million in my piggy bank.”

“That could have come from anywhere.”

“Yes”, he replied, sighing. “But I don’t think I can tell you any more than I already have. I’ve told you what you need to know. It’s up to you whether or not you trust me.”

“And you can’t tell me what the job is?”

“Afraid not. Not until you fully join Scalpel.”

“And what about who this ‘contractor’ is?”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Is it going to be dangerous?” “Of course”, came the reply.

“Possibility of death?”

Neel frowned. “Life in prison. Probably not death.”

Mark sighed. Prison wasn’t far from death for Abnormals.

“Ethically speaking…”

“Well, it’s not great obviously. But honestly, no one gets hurt or loses anything. It’s more about making a scene.”

“What does that mean? Twenty-five million for making a scene?”

Neel let out a small groan. “I’m sorry, I can’t say more. I’m not too worried about the ethics of it, if that means anything to you. Look, I have to go talk to her”, Neel said.

He was looking back to where they came from. A woman was standing in the distance, looking at them. Mark could vaguely make out her features- black skin, curly hair. She was wearing a costume as well, some sort of generic body armor over a skinsuit. “Stay here and take a minute to think about it”, he suggested, as he got up and started walking towards the woman.

Mark had Bitbird watch them as he paced around the table. He considered using it to eavesdrop but they were situated just outside his range. A careful group, Mark thought once again.

Perhaps that should be reassuring. Thinker was clearly careful, and yet he was still taking this mysterious job. But then it was possible he was just seeing dollar signs instead of sense. Mark wondered what he should do. Scalpel still seemed like his best bet for his needs. They were still amongst the least villainous organizations out there, and they probably could keep him safe. He agreed with the Thinker about the need to transition from asset to player. He liked Scalpel, and until five minutes ago he was almost eager to join. But this job…

Twenty-five million up front sounded life changing. Mark wasn’t particularly greedy, but he could think of more than a few things he could buy with that kind of money. Advanced tech he could do wonders with, an apartment which didn’t look like a health hazard, and of course, he could help out dad.

With a mild dread, he sent out his powers to tap the usual cameras and mics that were spread throughout his father’s house. Much harder and slower from a distance, but he had set up backdoors for himself a while ago, and no one had caught on yet. Twenty seconds, and he was in. The government’s work- they were surveilling his father in case Mark ever made contact with him. Mark wasn’t sure who exactly was doing the surveilling. Perhaps the NSA, or the FBI? Maybe even the Office. Peeping through the cameras, Mark spotted his dad in the living room, watching TV and sipping beer. He had noticed that his dad didn’t seem to do much else. Mark often wondered if his dad was depressed.

Twenty-five million could solve a lot of problems. His dad was unemployed, and Mark suspected that he was kept that way- easier to surveil perhaps, or maybe to get a reaction from Mark. Mark could discreetly augment his dad’s pitifully small unemployment checks. Or maybe he could just make a fake identity for his dad, and set him up in Canada or something. Twenty-five million opened up doors, and Mark felt obligated to open them. He could do good things with that money.

Mark wondered how bad this job could be. What did making a scene mean? Retrieving and leaking sensitive information? Breaking someone out of prison? If he was to accept Thinker’s assurances that it wasn’t too evil, then all that was left the risk of it.

Even if it was a risk, not joining Scalpel meant that every day would be a risk. He was tired. Tired of the running, tired of being scared, and tired of being alone. He wasn’t cut out for this. Saying ‘no’ here would send him back to square one. Minus twenty five million dollars.

Saying yes would mean solving half his problems and actually doing something. Mark felt like his life had become a sequence of reactions. Reacting to the fact that his mother installed a computer in his brain. Reacting to… his mother in general. Reacting to the NSA’s demands. Reacting to the government coming after him and his father with SWAT squads. Reacting to the Happy Family putting a bounty out on him. Even becoming a mask, even his thieving and stealing were reactions to hunger, to needing shelter, and to everything else. This felt like he was actually doing something. This job felt like an action, and not a reaction. Maybe he wanted to make a scene.

The drizzle was turning into a downpour. Enough thinking.

Mark walked towards Thinker and the woman. They had stopped talking and were watching him approach. The stream of his father was still superimposed on his vision as he gave his decision.

“I’m in.”