I grabbed his arm and firmly pulled his hand off my shoulder. "First of all, don't touch me. Second of all, who the hell are you?" I was a bit irritated by this clown's behavior, but if he really did have a job for me I was open to hearing him out.

He raised his arms defensively. "Sorry, sorry. My bad. The collective I have chosen to align myself with is very open to that sort of thing. It was naught but a force of habit."

I let out a sigh and waved him off. "It's fine. I get it. Just don't do it again."

"Of course, of course. I humbly apologize. I am Manet. I'm part of..."

"The Petite Group, right?" I interrupted. I really didn't need to hear the full name.

His already wide smile grew even wider. "That's right. How clever you are. But yes, I am and we need to have something done. It's going to take a few hours, but you can be assured that no one is going to be any the wiser."

I crossed my arms. "I mean, it sounds good, but what exactly do you want me to do."

"The details are something we can talk about in a less....noisy, let's just say, place. Me and my friends have rented one of the backrooms. Let's hash out the details there." he said and turned to leave.

With a shrug, I decided 'Why not hear him out?' and followed close behind. The backrooms were situated the furthest place away from the main lobby area, which meant we had to venture through the largest room first. He reached a door with a golden 'M' placard and gently pulled it open.

The largest room in this office was the Mage-Annex. There were very, very, very few mages who were actually full-on villains, but quite a few who offered their services to us.

We walked past many disparate groups on our way to the back. A few were sitting cross-legged in a circle, smoking cigars and pipes, seemingly locked in a heated debate, another group was crowding around 4 of them who were playing some kind of card game, betting money exchanging hands constantly, a few Witches had set up cauldrons in a little alcove and were busy brewing their product, and many more.

After a few minutes of walking, we reached the back of the room. Instead of a door, there was just a blank wall. Manet pulled something out of his pocket. It was difficult to make out at first, but on closer inspection, it looked like a very unnecessarily fancy marker pen. I'd seen the receptionist hand them out to people who rented a backroom before, but I never knew why. Well, even if this mission was a dud, at least I'd get to see what's up with that.

He carefully placed the opened pen against the wall and began to draw. I wish I knew what exactly he was drawing, but whatever kind of ink the marker was filled with, it was not visible to me. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been too complex. After 6 strokes he was done, but before he lifted his pen he turned to me. "As soon as I let go the door will be open for 10 seconds. Don't dawdle, just do what I do."

"Sure." I mumbled and watched as he put the pen away again. With a wink, he turned back toward the wall and simply walked forward. Instead of smashing his face on a hard surface the wall just sort of....gave. It wasn't like the thing wasn't there and he just walked through it, it was more like the surface turned into a thick, gooey sort of liquid that engulfed his body and swallowed him whole.

For a moment, fear embraced me. My brain drew up countless ways this whole thing could go horribly wrong. It took at least 3 seconds for me to come to my senses. 'Calm down, Mallory. Don't be a bitch. The backrooms are safe. They exist for privacy from other active villains. The BHF still monitors everything that goes on in them. Be less Mallory, more Master Controller.'

I took a breath and stepped forward. The wall dutifully swallowed its next meal. The substance felt just as wet, squishy, and disgusting as it looked. Goosebumps spread all over my body. The only mercy, small as it may be, was that the gloop had no particular smell. It took just 3 steps before the liquid began to detach itself and I stumbled into a small, dimly lit room.

In front of me was a small table with 4 seats, 3 of which were occupied. On the left was Manet, looking at me expectantly, grin wide as ever. He gestured for me to sit.

"So, who are your friends here?" I asked as I made myself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as one can be on a rickety wooden chair.

I saw a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he turned to the man across from me. "I would be more than glad to introduce my compatriots to you. Both of them are exceptional in their fields, and I am proud to have the opportunity to work with them." The other two hadn't been nearly as smiley as Manet, but that little laudatio did the trick.

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"This is Duchamp. He is a sculptor without equal. I am not ashamed to admit that I wept when I first saw one of his works. He is singularly talented at bringing out the emotions we all bottle up unconsciously when confronted with the many struggles of our daily routine lives."

The man shook his head. "You are too kind, Manet. I am just an observer of reality. My works do not inspire creativity, they just reflect what is already present. I just choose to highlight aspects of life that are usually shunted to the backside." In contrast to Manet, Duchamp had a very ordinary look. He gave off less the impression of an artist and more that of a middle-aged dad who worked in an office building somewhere. He was also clearly the oldest of the 3.

Next, Manet turned to the woman sitting across from me. When my eyes followed his, I had to do a double take. I hadn't really paid attention to her before, but now that I was looking directly at her I couldn't believe my eyes. She looked dead. She wasn't, but she looked like it.

Her long black hair was dripping with grease and missing chunks, her skin had half-peeled off her face and was clearly rotting, one of her eyes appeared milky-white and clouded over while the other dangled loosely from its socket. The only normal thing about her was her red French beret.

At least, that's what I thought. After I saw her I closed my eyes, shook my head, and opened them again, thinking that I must've been seeing things and.....I was? The woman I looked at now appeared to be perfectly normal. Almost too normal. Her face was symmetrical, and her features gave her a look that was the very definition of plain. Even her beret had turned a dull gray.

I was internally debating whether or not I was finally going off the deep end when she changed again. I had closed my eyes for a few seconds and rubbed my temples and when I looked back she was different. This time she was the poster child for an edgy teen goth girl. Heavy white foundation, black lipstick, and eyeliner that made it look like she hadn't slept for weeks, and a black beret to top it all off.

I let out a sigh of relief as Manet and Duchamp laughed. I wasn't going crazy. It was just a Power. It didn't seem to happen when I blinked, but whenever my eyes weren't on her for more than a couple of seconds her appearance shifted. I tried it a couple more times and caught her as a girl scout, a drowned corpse, and a party clown.

"I see you already figured our dear Nitsch out." Duchamp said with a chuckle. "She is a special one."

"Why don't you take a picture? It'll last longer." Manet joked but I was seriously tempted. Could someone like that actually be photographed?

"Be my guest." the jolly voice of the clown girl rang out as if she was reading my mind.

I wasted no time and pulled out my phone, careful not to look away from her for more than a second. After the little click, I glanced down and raised my eyebrow. The person staring back at me from the photograph with a big smile wasn't the clown girl or any other of her variations. It was Jess.

I raised my head at the posh high-society lady in front of me. "Isn't life full of surprises?" she grinned and took a sip out of a wineglass that I could've sworn had been a can of soda before.

I checked my phone again, and sure enough the picture had changed. Now Davison the BHF-fence was winking at me with a thumbs up. After a few more cycles I finally got it. It was basing its appearance on cycling through my contact list. With a smile of my own, I put the phone away and focused back on the meeting, These kinds of Powers were the ones I loved to see the most. I couldn't wait to show the pic to Jess. She'd have a field day with crazy nonsense like this.

Nitsch had changed again, into some kind of businesswoman, suit and glasses and all. "Well, now that we have gotten that out of the way, let's get to the point." she said, her tone of voice giving off an efficient and professional vibe.

"You're always such a kidder, Nitsch." Manet giggled and turned back to me. "I know I wasn't supposed to bring just one, but the plan has changed, my friends. This little girl is none other than the Master Controller." Little girl? Rude.

Duchamp and Business-Nitsch looked at each other for a moment. "Possession, huh? Full Possession at that. Yeah, with her we could just skip the first four steps...." he mumbled.

"Are you sure she will be amenable to working with us?" Nitsch asked, pushing her poorly-fit glasses back on her face.

As a response, Manet began laughing hysterically. It took him a full minute before he managed to recompose himself. "Seriously, Nitsch, you have to stop being so goddamn funny. We won't get anything done with you throwing out jokes left and right.

"Why don't you, I dunno, chill out a bit or something, Manny. Just answer the question," she responded, having changed again while I was staring at the laughing Manet. Now she was lying back wearing nothing but a bikini, sunglasses, and her beret, smoking something and blowing the smoke in my direction. It either evaporated before reaching me or was never there in the first place.

"Sure. I think she will. Listen, Master Controller. We originally had a different job planned for a group of about 5 lucky thugs, but now that we have you we have something special to do for you. All we need is for you to go to the Diamond Hills Club, take over the guy who mans the parking garage booth, and do his job for 5 hours."

I looked at him for a few seconds. "You want me to do what now? Do his job?" Diamond Hills was an exclusive luxury club for heroes only. "Like, make sure the heroes who come by car are members and open the gate and stuff? Just that? Nothing else?"

He nodded. "Yes, that's it. Just that, nothing more. And hey, we still have the cash that was originally meant to be split five ways. You can have all of it. 2500 dollars for half a day of work. Sounds like a good deal to me."

"If does! It does! Go, Manet! You're the best at making deals!" Nitsch, now a cheerleader, yelled.

"How about it?"

I sat back and thought about it for a minute. On one hand, this made absolutely no sense at all. On the other hand, this really was quite the deal. Try as I might, and I did try, I couldn't for the life of me imagine any drastically negative consequences that could arise from doing someone's job for a day.

"Sure, why not?"

Now all three of them were smiling. Manet reached out his hand and I shook it. "You are making the right decision. Let's hope that this is the beginning of a long and fruitful partnership."