A Nice Teacher 11 (Patreon)

AN: A little bit of a prequel to the Brockton Bay stuff and saying hello to Alexandria! Or, Rebecca Costa-Brown at least. I feel like each 'role' deserves some special attention, so I'll swing by this one again to do the remaining half. And Cauldron as a a whole, even if that's mostly just Contessa and saving the world as a side-quest.

Rebecca

I drum my fingers, eyes locked to the display on my desktop screen. One new arrival into the building. No invitation, no advance warning and no attempt at identification. No alarm triggered, yet no advance notice from the guards that allowed them through either. A textbook breach of our Master/Stranger protocols. Not terribly uncommon, for all that Contessa tended to blunt most of the attempts against my 'civilian' persona - all too many Masters and Strangers got big ideas in their heads the instant they got their powers, dreaming of taking out one or two big names at the top and ruling America as their own.

All too easy for me to shut down, even without Cauldron's intervention. My immunity to most Masters and Strangers was a well-documented fact by now. The only issue, naturally, was that I wasn't Alexandria right now. I wasn't supposed to be immune to Masters, I wasn't supposed to have a Thinker rating at the top percentile of all Capes worldwide. I note the flashing symbol on my desk, indicating another door had been breached on the intruder's path towards me. Was every guard and every M/S measure not going to be enough? This building was among the most secure in the world, someone even reaching me was a commendable feat and worthy of attention from Cauldron as a whole.

Yet, Contessa wasn't here. That was blanket permission enough to settle this as I pleased, a tacit statement that there would be no consequences however I handled this - whether I simply played along enough for time or crushed his throat. Assuming he was malicious, of course - he could be a stupid kid testing out his powers, seeing what he could get away with. Subduing him would be trivial in that case, and simply dropping him off to the Slug would handle his memories nicely enough to hand the docile, impressionable new Cape off to a team that desperately needed him.

I track the glowing dot as it pauses at the next security checkpoint, the last before he reaches my floor. Was this one- no. The guard uses his own pass to allow him to progress. My phone rings a moment later.

"Costa-Brown." I answer, already knowing what the guard is about to say.

"A visitor is here for you, Director. I've sent him up your way." The cool, collected voice of the man reveals nothing about his compromised state. "He didn't have an appointment, so I've warned him that you might not be able to handle his request right away."

"I see. And why did you send him up to me, when we already have such clear protocols to follow for situations like this?" The question wasn't recriminatory. There was no point blaming the victim of a Master power for their actions, but some insight into the nature of the power might be gleaned from the response.

"Ah. Well, I just figured it didn't really apply in this case." The man sounds sheepish. "It sounds silly, but I think our rules need a bit of a rework in obvious cases like this - just for the times when a rare exception comes up that clearly isn't an issue."

"Some adjustments are needed, I quite agree. Thank you for letting me know." No point ordering him to lock the building down, or even doing it myself - handling this quietly, and personally, was the best option now. This stranger would disappear from the building just as quietly as he arrived.

The icon approaches my room, only briefly hesitating as he apparently consulted the signage for directions.

A knock on the door. "Enter." I call out.

"Hello!" A cheery grin, but one tempered by the slightest hint of uncertainty and fear. A man who felt ninety-percent sure that everything was going to go his way after getting this far, but who was also painfully aware of the remaining ten percent of scenarios where this went badly. Exactly as should be expected from an egotistical Master/Stranger that believed he had made it past every security feature in the building and made it to his prize. "Alexandria, I hope?"

My eyes narrow. "No. Rebecca Costa-Brown, actually. As an intruder in my office should well know." I probe his reaction to being identified as an intruder. Instead of his fear spiking, he seems to become more relaxed.

Then he pauses. "You know, I don't actually think I can confidently say if you're the body double or not. So you might have me there." He saunters towards me. "No hard feelings about this if you genuinely aren't her? I'll call an ambulance-" His hand swings around in a wide arc. Slow. A simple mug held out as his weapon of choice. Empty. Harmless to me, but enough to give a regular human some kind of injury, if not from a concussion, then from the many broken pieces it would doubtless break into upon contact.

I could dodge, perhaps even play it up as a lucky flinch - but from his words there didn't seem to be much point to that. He knew about the connection between my heroic and civilian personas. No need to waste time dancing around the point and pleading ignorance. I let the improvised weapon make contact with my face, allowing it to shatter on impact without giving him the satisfaction of moving me an inch.

"Well, that's a relief." The man exhales. "Would have really put a damper on my introduction if I screwed it up right at the start. Not that anyone would have actually minded, but - well. I would have known, you understand? Actually, you might have minded. That's part of the reason I rushed over here, you understand? I'm pretty confident in how my powers should work, but if I'm wrong about them, I'd rather disappear into a fine bloody mist or get shot in the back before I have much time to reflect on the fact that I'm screwed. Can't relax and enjoy myself properly with the threat of death hanging over me, right? I figured, hey - the world needs saving, and I need to verify that Thinkers can't do anything about me, why not hit up Alexandria? That's the most important test, right - no point screwing around with minor characters if it turns out I can be pathed into walking off a cliff at some point. I need to test these things before really being able to cut loose, and I'm pretty confident that disabling golden boy is within my capabilities, so I'd have to be a real asshole not to go and do that."

He knew too much. Far, far too much. That wasn't accidental wording. He knew about me. About Contessa. Scion. And he didn't care if I knew about it. "You can get on with it." I interrupt. "We're past the point of pretences now. We both know the nature of the other person, so tell me. Why are you here?"

"I was getting to that. I've got a few different reasons, some more important than others." He admits. "Some minor things, like how I'd really like to meet Contessa one of these days and how it would save me a lot of time if I could get Doormaker to hook me up. A few minor personal questions that I'd like to use you and Contessa to answer about my immediate future in the world - though that's more of an 'actions rather than words' kind of deal. Like, I'm pretty sure I have either Blank or the Nice Guy powerset just fills in that effect for me - and I seem to have dipped into a suped-up version of Broadcast that I haven't really worked out properly yet - I feel like I should already be dead if not for that, but I'd like some verification. And, I'd also like to handle your problems with Scion and the Endbringers." This man really loved the sound of his own voice. I didn't share his opinion.

"And if I asked how you found out about such classified topics?" I probe coolly. No obvious tells. No sign that he was reciting his words from somewhere or otherwise receiving Thinker support in real time. Nor was he unsurprised about the words coming out of his mouth - this was his own knowledge, not something being spontaneously suggested by a power trying to navigate the conversation.

Curious.

"It's one of those things where even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. I've tried - so you'll just have to accept that I know things that I shouldn't and leave it at that." He pads around the office. "But, come on now, is that all you have to say after hearing that I'm going to solve all of your toughest problems for you? I don't expect overwhelming gratitude from everyone I meet, but I figured at least you guys would appreciate my presence." He tilts his head. "Or... have you not even realised what my powers are? I've only met two Thinkers so far, but both of them picked up that something was off - even if they didn't manage to get the full picture. I figured that your rating was much higher than theirs... but I guess if that made all that much of a difference, Contessa would be gunning for me right now."

"A power to trick others into considering you as harmless, and your actions as non-malicious." I tell him easily. Carefully not adding that both Cauldron and the PRT have a variety of ways to handle Strangers like that. Best not to let him know that his power wasn't actually the perfect shield he was quickly starting to believe it was. If I was reading his reactions right, he'd come in here with the assumption that, if I was capable of it, I would reveal my complete immunity and attack or imprison him - and every second that went by without me doing that, gave him validation in believing that his power stood on a level above every other power in the world. That was a useful delusion, at least while he had more secrets to spill.

"Something like that." There were extra facets to his power. That was clear. Part of that was likely hinted at in his near-incoherent ramblings just a moment ago, but when I try and digest what it all might mean... I shake my head. Nothing more than the most obvious references spring to mind. That probably hinted at some kind of anti-Thinker effect, but not one strong enough to stop me from cold-reading him and his expressions - not strong enough to stop me from stringing the information I had available to me together. But there was something there. "But I guess you get the most relevant points. By the fact that I'm still here and not being stabbed by Contessa, I'm pretty sure that aspect of my power trumps everything the world has to offer. It's kind of an all-or-nothing thing when it's selected. If it works on you two, it works on Zion. That's just how it works."

Utterly delusional. "I've noticed your apparent capabilities. And Contessa is not a bloodthirsty woman seeking to kill anyone with potentially disruptive powers." I reassure him. I didn't have quite the same faith in his powers that he evidently did, but I didn't need to be cruel by pointing that out. Here was a man who had, somehow, stumbled upon knowledge he had no business possessing - and come here with some kind of wild hope that his powers would make a difference and save the world. Countless people shared that dream. I did too. But the world wasn't that kind. It was good that he didn't seem malicious, but I'd need to puncture his hopes of saving the world now before he tried to do something stupid. "But I'm not seeing any particular reason why we should be grateful to you. You have yet to solve any of our problems, if anything - you've created a security incident for me to handle. A great many Capes starting out also consider that their powers have no limits, and that they will be the ones to take out the Endbringers for good - but it's more than likely that your aspirations-"

He waves a hand in the air. "Yes, yes. I hear you. But it's a bit of a given, you understand. I didn't get exact knowledge of the CYOA build I selected-" I tune out of the conversation. The ravings of a well-meaning, but slightly deranged man that seemed to still be reeling from his trigger event weren't something I needed to invest any attention in. "-I've been tallying up the perks and disadvantages I could test, and I've pretty much proven that I selected the easiest difficulty setting thanks to the number of points I've clearly spent, which basically makes the entire setting a playground regardless of the details."

"I see." I respond diplomatically. Not going to even attempt to parse that nonsense. However well-intentioned this man was, I was rapidly losing hope that he was going to be of any real value going forward. It was pretty evident that Contessa had ignored him not because she was confident that I could handle it, but because he just wasn't important. Time for him to leave. "Moving on. It's been a pleasure meeting you, but I do have work to be getting on with, and you certainly shouldn't be here. I will be frank, I don't believe that there is anything you can help us with at this time - and you are more likely to pose a danger to yourself and others than help in any meaningful fashion." I shake my head lightly, affixing him with a level, unimpressed look. "Nor does your... somewhat obvious abuse of your powers lend any credibility to your claims to want to aid us. For all that you claim to be interested in saving the world, it's quite clear to me that your focus is primarily on how you hope to put me in the same situation as the receptionist on the front desk."

I turn the screen towards him as I make the point. It had taken me a while to put it together, but I'd somehow completely overlooked the half-naked, cum-soaked image of our only receptionist at the base floor of the building. I'd only noted his arrival when the M/S alerts started firing. The fact that I'd clearly overlooked the scene of this man face-fucking a member of staff upon his arrival was somewhat impressive. If not for the fact that the entire illusion fell apart once he specifically drew attention to his actions via the alarmed checkpoints, I would almost think his power could be useful.

The man shrugs, not even having the decency to look ashamed. "And? I'm not a saint. Never claimed to be. Doesn't mean that I'm not the best thing to happen to this world in decades. You've worked with far worse than a particularly horny guy before. Besides, just because there's an obvious way that I want to use my powers - that doesn't mean that I don't understand how to prioritise. I'm the only guy likely to fix the Endbringer problem anytime soon. I'd have to be a complete asshole to just let that keep happening because I wanted to get my dick wet. Save the world first. Mess around in the sandpit afterwards."

"Save the world." I scoff, noting his rising irritation at the action. Good. More expressions, more genuine emotions - that gave me more to work with. "With your powerset? How do you intend to stand up to Behemoth? To the Simurgh? To Scion? Even if your powers had any slight effect, they would just kill you accidentally while they were destroying the city around you."

"You're underestimating the effect of my power. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that just standing in the target city would end an Endbringer attack. I need a five-minute chat with Scion to tell him to kill himself-" He pauses. "-or, maybe some kind of forced hibernation would be better? That might stop the ice from breaking..." He shakes his head after talking to himself for a moment. "-and I have a good plan that should indirectly help with the Endbringers long-term too. Just put those Thinker powers of yours to use and you'll see that I'm not such an asshole that I'll just leave an omnicidal wannabe god a few words away from an apocalyptic breakdown when I have the means to stop it, and I'm not going to sit around and let some random city get wiped off the map because I was too busy fucking a supermodel. You've got nothing to lose by letting me make the attempt, so just door me to Cauldron already, I'll talk about what I need and when with Contessa and Doctor Mother - I'll have the world saved by the end of the week."

"So you say." I remain unimpressed. "And yet, you have exactly no proof that your powers are capable of any of these things - do you?" The look on the man's face tells me I've nailed the truth, even if he didn't think the comment was fair. "I don't blame you for wanting to help, and it's possible that we might find an avenue for you to assist us as a Cauldron agent in the future if you remain enthused at the prospect of working with us - the effects of your power seem subtle compared to most, we might have need of that one day. But I don't see the need to take you into the heart of Cauldron for something that's clearly not going to be of any benefit. In fact, it's likely to be a risk to you - while I can clearly see you aren't a threat and have your heart in the right place despite your... proclivities - I'm afraid it's unlikely that the rest of Cauldron will see the information leak that you represent in quite the same way. Your request is impossible, and that is final."

My feelings on the man are immediately validated by the fact that the more I opposed him, the more signs I could see that he was thinking about how he wanted to fuck me. If he was genuine, he'd be devastated and increasingly desperate about losing his chance to save people. But he didn't actually care. It was all just numbers to him. Background information. He wanted to stop the Endbringers purely because he felt obliged to, not out of any pretended sense of altruism. I'd be willing to bet that he was actually more concerned that hearing about an Endbringer attack would kill the mood while he was fucking some unwitting victim, than any real concern over the loss of life. But he would never come out and say that. He knew that stopping them was the moral thing, and just used it as a chance to justify anything else he happened to use his powers for.

He wouldn't even be entirely wrong for that. His only mistake was believing that his powers would do anything. That he could achieve anything, where all of Cauldron had consistently failed. Where all of the world had consistently failed. I could almost respect the towering ego it took for a Cape that had been active for... less than two days, to earnestly believe that his power - with no offensive abilities to speak of - would outshine Eidolon and Scion's efforts against the Endbringers. It was almost comical enough to laugh out loud at, but there was no need to be rude.

Besides, the man seemed irritated enough already. "You know, everybody else I met so far just mindlessly agreed with me whenever we had a difference of opinion. I'm kind of annoyed that now, when it actually matters - I'm being treated like a delusional child instead." He gripes. "I mean, it's almost fun in a way - but, I really would like to get this done and over with and move on. Which makes it not fun, at all. I don't even mind the insults towards my character or the idea that I'm overestimating my abilities - that's the kind of thing that I'd enjoy getting my own back on you for at my own leisure. No, the bit that annoys me is that you don't even dislike me and you're ignoring everything I say. Like you're talking to a toddler that has an idea to fix world hunger. I know the arrogance and ego is well-earned, but that's a bit of a shock to the system after the last few days for me."

"I apologise if you feel I'm being unfair." I meant that. I didn't think I was, but I didn't take any pleasure in making him feel bad. Just because my words were factually correct, didn't mean that I was insulting the man in front of me. I wasn't even truly judging him for the ways he had abused his power so far. I'm certain that few men would be able to resist the carnal urges that a Stranger power - one that was good enough to reach my desk undetected - would provoke in them. "I take no joy in offending you, but I won't deceive you with blind, misplaced optimism either. You are not required. Please leave."

He makes a disgusted groan. "The definition of a hard ass. Whatever. I don't need your help specifically. If you don't want to give me the time of day, door me to someone who will and I'll work out the details with them instead. Eidolon. Legend. Doctor Mother. If I had the option, I'd have gone to them first anyway - but you're the one with the public office and visiting hours."

"Visiting hours that you so kindly ignored when it suited you." I give him a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "But if you understand the nature of our organisation and our mission, then you must also understand that it would be the height of foolishness to allow a known Master to meet with our leadership and strongest assets. I will repeat myself for the last time, you cannot help us."

In truth, I was impressed. Rationally speaking, we should be looking to kill this man right now - or hand him over to the Slug to remove his memories. Objectively speaking, his behaviour so far - the abuse of his power to force himself on multiple people on his journey here, the circumvention of my security, the nonchalance with which he spills out secret after secret without care... it should all warrant drastic action from me. But the idea just never fully takes root. It's pointless. A needless display of power against someone who simply wasn't a threat. It was too inconceivable to imagine him doing something malicious. Even if his power is working against me, did it make a difference if I was still in complete control and he wasn't doing any harm? Coming down on him with the full force of the law, or using Cauldron itself - wasn't that just overkill for something that Contessa, by her intentional absence, had seen fit to allow me to handle with my own judgement? It was.

There was an element of his power in that line of thinking. I know that. My Thinker rating stood among some of the best in the world, I would have come to the same conclusion even if he had made an attempt to hide it. It was too clear. Too obvious. I could see exactly what the power was doing to blunt my default response.

I just didn't care. Every power had its limits. There was a reason that Nice Guy was dead. A reason that August Prince was a minor villain that avoided open conflict. This was the effect of his power at its peak, and I wasn't showing any signs of the vapid acceptance of his actions that my guards or receptionist had shown. Nothing special.

For a moment, I wonder how this conversation would have gone if I had revealed that his power wasn't wholly effective on me. If I'd done the mental gymnastics required for me to threaten and even harm him, would he have given up on this hare-brained idea of 'solving' the Endbringers? In hindsight, that might have been the kinder option. Letting his delusions of self-importance continue had made it easier for me to get a read on the man, but also gave him confidence that was probably going to just get him killed if I allowed it. Even if he thought that he understood Contessa's power, he didn't have the knowledge or experience to understand the likely power interaction. Contessa wouldn't even blink before killing or containing him. Even if she didn't consider him as a threat, or even as an enemy - the path would instruct her on every movement to take. The knife that plunges into a neck requiring the same, steady obedience and placid detachment that walking along a street or holding a conversation did.

And Contessa always had a secondary path dedicated to Masters and Strangers. She'd utterly destroy him and any possibility of living a normal life with his powers. So even if he didn't appreciate it now... simply denying his request outright was the best path forward. I was already stretching the limit of what I should be doing for him, and while he clearly didn't seem inclined to accept that reality - that was just the nature of life. You couldn't always get what you wanted.

Mind made up, I snap my fingers. "Door. Site B3."

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of the yellow portal. "Finally. Let's get this over with already." The man strides through the portal purposefully, a momentary blip of hesitation in his stride as he looks at me - a slight frown creasing his brow. Like a sudden premonition of duplicity that he hadn't expected. A secondary Thinker power, perhaps? Whatever the cause, he doesn't process it in time to stop himself from walking through the portal.

For an instant, I feel a flicker of guilt as the portal winks out. Deceiving the man like that, acting against him... even if it was for his own benefit, it wasn't an easy thing for me to do. Repaying trust with treachery, no matter the intentions - it was impossible to feel good about that.

Because that portal didn't go to Contessa. Or to Doctor Mother. Or anywhere near a Cauldron base at all.

Instead, that portal went halfway across the world. He'd be safe there, given the obvious utility of his power - and hopefully by the time he managed to get back, he wouldn't be in any mood to put himself or our operations in danger by trying to 'help'. That was the best I could do for him, even if he wouldn't appreciate me for it. Not that I had anything to fear from upsetting him. His power, while notable in its ability at persuading others not to harm him - was unable to present a credible threat to most Parahumans, particularly those like me - with anti-Master abilities. If he intended to be disruptive to our operations, Contessa would step in. If he intended to spill our secrets, we had precautions already. With all the possible negative outcomes accounted for, there was no longer a reason to harm or imprison him.

I'd still hesitated for a moment, considering the merits of a safe holding cell - not to hold him, but to actually keep him safe. But that felt too harsh. A step too far against the man who's only crime was believing that he could help.

And using his power to fuck at least half-a-dozen people before meeting me. I reminded myself. But... if the victim didn't recognise the crime themselves, and nobody would ever come to enforce it, was it really still a crime in the ways that still mattered? My receptionist was still happily serving queries, unaware that her current state of undress was even something to be terribly ashamed of. I was almost interested in knowing what he had said to her, to so thoroughly eliminate her sense of embarrassment in the workplace.

By all appearances, I was the only one capable of recognising that something was wrong. I could step in. Tell her to get her shirt back on. Wipe the cum off of her breasts. Restore a sense of dignity to the unaware victim.

But nobody was treating her too differently. A few people getting more of an eyeful than usual, but they were still being processed in the usual fashion. They weren't commenting on the change. This was good material to understand that man's power, when I inevitably had to make a report on the man with too much forbidden knowledge for his own good. If the effect fell apart on its own, or if it remained indefinitely - that information was going to be more worthwhile than restoring the dignity of a generic, low-level worker that was too oblivious to notice that anything was wrong.

I pull up an empty document, ready to type up a report on the stranger, his powers and his bizarre aspirations. At the very first word, my hands still. Maybe I should at least have gotten his name. Or, maybe not. There were good odds that, one way or another, I'd never see him again. It would take weeks for him to make the trek from the isolated site in Central Africa towards somewhere capable of communication or international transportation. It was safe, but it was more about allowing time for his thoughts to settle down - and some time to discover the limitations of his power. By the time he eventually made it back to America, he'd have long-given up on the idea of somehow fighting the Endbringers. It was for his own good. His own protection.

He'd understand that. A rational actor, if you ignore the delusions of power.

That didn't mean that he wouldn't hold a grudge against me. But I wasn't worried about that.

Because it was more than likely that before he made it back to America - he'd either be swept up in the Path as an unwitting pawn, or outright recruited as a Cauldron agent. That was probably for the best. A power like that could cause a lot of havoc if he was left to his own devices, and even other members of the Triumvirate wouldn't necessarily be able to stand up to it. I didn't really want to see the mischief that he might get up to if he was left unattended, either as some deliberate attempt to get back at me, Cauldron or the PRT - or just as his own self acting out his fantasies, unburdened by any silly fantasies that he could save the world. It was a relief that Contessa would likely have him under control before long.

And even if the absolute worst-case scenario happened - where he didn't appreciate my actions, decided to get some payback and for some reason the Path didn't stop him? I'd kept my trump card close to my chest.

The fact that my power trumped his.

Oh, I'd allowed him to realise that I was aware of his power and what he was doing with it - but he earnestly believed that it was fully effective on me despite my realisation. He didn't realise the true strength of my Thinker power, more than sufficient to have his simple mind and desires dancing in the palm of my hand. He didn't realise that there were ways I could circumnavigate his power. Automatic systems, tricks of the mind and indirect attacks that would effectively render him powerless.

He was wildly overconfident, drowning in his own delusion that his power must trump over every other power that he meets - and that was why any clash between us was a foregone conclusion. He wouldn't even entertain the idea that I would raise a finger against him if he made an aggressive move or stepped over one of my red lines. He expected that I'd be just as permissive, just as willing to let him indulge, as the receptionist on the main screen now had been. And that would be his downfall if we ever crossed paths again. That wasn't arrogance. It was a fact. And it wasn't even a bad thing for him. If he had a stronger power, if he was a credible threat to me or Cauldron as a whole - we would have had to kill him or trap him somewhere, instead of giving him an impromptu holiday and time to cool his head.

And his head needed a lot of cooling. I mask a smile with ease, despite the lack of anyone else in the office. That's still almost comical to think about. I shake my head at the mental image of him squaring up to Scion and telling him to shut down. He actually thought that would work. What was he thinking, to say that so confidently? Clearly, whatever his source of information had been - it had been woefully inaccurate as to the scale of the threat or how it could be defeated. Scion wasn't human. It couldn't be held to human morals or standards, and convincing it not to fulfil its sole duty and obligation to its species wasn't something that could be done with a simple conversation.

He should really just leave this to the people that actually knew what they were doing.

For his own sake, if nothing else.

---

Running a double life as both Alexandria and Director Rebecca Costa-Brown had its advantages. A lot of advantages. Occupying two slots at the top of the nation's hierarchy for all matters relating to Parahumans made it far easier to manage the expansion of the Protectorate. It freed up Contessa to do more important things than run a fifty-step path to 'stop investigating this please and thank you' when I had the final say in resource distribution, S-class responses and managing the redistribution and allocation of Protectorate Capes around the country. It kept Cauldron, with our generally limited numbers, from being blind sided by something not covered by Contessa's paths or involving one of her blind spots.

That wasn't to imply that there were no downsides. Keeping my identity secret was doubly important. It took time out of the day to ensure the proper application of makeup that made me look like I was ageing as expected, rather than remaining all but locked in time as a fresh-faced young adult. When there was a crisis, I'd be constantly juggling both of my jobs using all the hours in the day that I could find and still find myself swamped with tasks that couldn't be entrusted to anyone else.

And then, there were the awkward times that Alexandria needed to be at the same meeting as the Director. Generally, that wasn't too arduous - I had a body double who, while not fully in the loop, at least knew enough to not stand out as a fake and was certainly competent enough to handle most issues on her own. In meetings like these, all I usually had to do was stay quiet and stare into the camera until people were done talking. The usual way these meetings went was that I would pass along anything out of the ordinary or urgent to my doppelganger, and then I would simply lend my weight to her 'opinion' as she raised 'her' idea. She kept up the authoritative, proud figure of the Director in my absence, and nobody would ever have reason to believe that things were not as they first seemed.

That was how things were supposed to be.

This meeting... was not quite sticking to that plan. Oh, certainly - my secret identity hadn't been blown - but that didn't mean that my doppelganger was doing her job either.

Not that I could blame her for that. No, the reason why she was so clearly struggling was the apparent reappearance of the stranger that had appeared in my office nearly a full month ago. While his exact motivations remained unclear for now, his objective was clear- to disrupt the meeting, and my doppelganger's efforts to lead it especially.

Specifically, by railing my body double over a desk to give her multiple screaming orgasms while the rest of the Directors and other call participants watched over the video link with bemusement. To her credit, she'd at least tried to mute herself and turn off the camera - but the man had taken offence to that idea and switched both back on, repositioning the camera to give an even better view of him slamming into the 'Chief Director' from behind.

In truth, I was almost grateful for that. Before, while his power had clearly been normalising the situation judging by all the expressions of amazement, curiosity and outright lust rather than alarm on the call, his power was clearly not offering up a sensible reason as to why the Chief Director was naked and apparently happy to get fucked under the gaze of her colleagues. Given time, I'm certain that certain unpleasant conclusions about my moral character or sexual preferences would have developed among the onlookers. But thankfully, by shifting the camera to incidentally bring him more into the shot, the crowd had 'recognised' the man. Almost seeming to share a look with each other in relief, as if to say 'Naturally, who else could it have been?' and 'Yes, the Chief Director is showing us a side of herself that we had never dreamed of - but if that guy is involved, then is it really worth commenting over?'.

Amusingly enough, the man's power was a blessing for me right now. If the man's aim was to humiliate or punish me, his own power would completely stymie his efforts, no matter how hard he tried. Already, the audience was adjusting to the organiser of the call being fucked over the full duration of the meeting. While there's no ignoring the scene entirely, slowly - people start to return to their tasks, albeit stealing glances at each new position my doppelganger and her visitor were attempting for the camera. All it takes is one person to make a passing joke about how the Chief Director appears to have her hands, and mouth, full and that 'perhaps Director Livingstone should lead the meeting agenda for now' is enough to direct the meeting back to its intended purpose - almost as if nothing had disrupted the meeting in the first place.

Almost. A few men, and a few women as well, had discretely disabled their cameras for reasons that I didn't need any Thinker rating to guess at. Evidently, a stranger power normalising your boss getting fucked in front of you didn't necessarily stop you from finding that sight arousing. Towards the start of my career, the idea of my colleagues jerking off to the thought of a fairly accurate body double of mine would have horrified me. Now? I'd seen what the internet did to Alexandria on a daily basis. There wasn't much sense in getting worked up over it. Objectively, I was attractive. The same applied to my body double, for obvious reasons. It would be irrational to be mad at any straight male losing the battle with their libido over such a deliberately explicit and provocative sight. Not when a power was at work, suppressing their ability to see it as a problem.

No. It wasn't their fault. Nor was it my body-double's fault for being unable to handle a power that had already effortlessly breached my security measures twice now. No. There was only one person that was ultimately responsible for the embarrassment of today. One person in the right position to stop it with their own choices. One person.

Me.

Oh, certainly. Some people might have chosen to blame the stranger for his actions, but that logic only applied up until Thinker powers get involved. The reality is that I knew what kind of person he was, the things he was likely to do with his powers - and had ultimately handled him in a manner that offended his sensibilities enough for him to act out like this. I'd been overly hasty, hadn't found the ideal way to defuse the situation and now I was paying the price for that. I could have sent him off through the portal without tricking him, or found a way to clear myself of obvious blame when he found himself on the other side - but I'd taken the easiest route at the time, and this was the natural consequence of that.

It was just a small mercy that this time, the price was not so large. The true scale of his violation was a shared secret between him and me. If I simply confronted the man, offered up some token apologies for his brusque treatment and then continued on in my current capacity with no more repeats of this... display, then soon enough, it would appear as if nothing had even happened in the first place.

Still. That was a galling prospect all on its own. A pettier mind would have balked at the idea - apologising, when he appeared to be the instigator? But once you apply cool logic, it begins to make sense. He believes, with all his heart, that he is in the right. That he deserves this. That I deserve this. Convincing him otherwise would be a difficult, uncertain prospect - while pretending to agree with him and offering up a brief apology only costs me my pride. Either way, the problem would be resolved - but there was only path completely in my control. And that path was one that provided him with the kind, gentle illusion that he had won. That his ego had been soothed after the imagined slight against him. At least, I assumed that was the reason behind this activity. In truth, I hadn't expected him to make it back without Contessa interrupting him - but clearly the Path didn't need him yet, so it was once again up to me to keep him under control.

Again. The burden of a powerful Thinker rating. The ability to run circles around simpler minds, allowing them to believe that their actions are their own ideas - when in reality, they've been predicted and guided towards the most desired path long before the choice was ever placed before them. This task that Contessa had indirectly set before me wasn't difficult, it was just a minor nuisance. Even if his power was effective at taking the option of violence away, which was questionable and untested at the very least, all that did was eliminate the Brute portion of my powerset. If I didn't intend violence, then any interaction between us was essentially a high-level Thinker facing off against a completely unpowered person plucked from the street.

I unmute myself and stand. "I think most of the important aspects of this meeting have been covered. I'll follow up with the Chief Director on some minor items of concern at another time, but I have other work to be engaging with for now." My tone indicated that this wasn't up for discussion, although in truth - those on the call most likely to object to me leaving early were currently... distracted. To put it politely.

"Another time, Alexandria." Director Livingstone nods politely. A professional at heart. He'd done his best to keep the meeting on track, and the only indication that he was even aware of the distraction was that his camera was pointing a little bit higher than normal and I couldn't see his hands. I didn't have a problem with that. Any Thinker worth talking about was well-used to knowing who out of their colleagues was fantasising or masturbating to them behind closed doors. The trick was to keep working with those who could function properly at work despite that. Yes, he was most likely jerking himself off to a very close lookalike of my actual body getting fucked in the ass - but at least he had the professional grace to both disguise that fact and to get his work done regardless. That was much more than I could say for a large number of people on this call.

I scan across the list of names on the call, mentally memorising and labelling those that were clearly a bit too easily distracted and might need reassigning to a less critical post at the next opportunity. Then, I disconnect.

I gaze at the blank screen thoughtfully for a moment. Still nothing from Contessa. That was encouraging. An indication that, despite the initial disruption, everything was still on track. At first, it had been hard to see the benefit of allowing me to antagonise him if she intended to let him return unhindered - but it was clear that the man had spent the last few days and weeks testing the limits of his power further. That was clear purely from seeing him have so much confidence in his power working through notes, remote recordings and general electronics - even when he wasn't in the shot. Some mix of August Prince and Nice Guy had been obvious right from the outset, but now it was clear that he had the complete package without their most infamous weaknesses. Even his indirect actions rippled in their own way, carrying some fragment of his ability without his direct involvement. I'd be willing to wager that even a small leak of this meeting, with explicit commentary and not a single sign of the man's presence visible or audible in the shot, would fail to generate fear, consternation and outrage as it should. A very, very useful power.

It was easy to see why Contessa hadn't killed him.

That said, it was a power that could easily go unchecked if let loose on the world. It was no wonder that the Path had baited him like this, in a way that a non-Thinker would struggle to even recognise as a trap. His own wounded pride would have him set his powers fruitlessly against me, and all I would need to do is act oblivious. Nothing that he did to me could truly be damaging, this meeting was proof of that. Even if that been me, in my guise as Alexandria - or even if it had been broadcast to every TV station on the planet... it would mean nothing. Minor news for a day or two, but with none of the shock and urgency that he would have wanted from such a drastic action.

Because it was normal. Commonplace. Not truly any different from a celebrity's wardrobe malfunction at a major event. Arousing, perhaps. Considered as embarrassing, true. But in the end, nothing changes. Not to my position. Not to the gravity of my reputation. Not to my effectiveness. Not to my popularity. Because the only ones that would truly understand the situation were the two of us. And I could handle the predictable, juvenile actions of someone that didn't have a single Thinker rating to their name. I could adjust my own reactions and responses to keep him busy doing things that didn't cause problems for Cauldron as a whole, and open up opportunities to bait him into directing his power towards worthwhile targets. Unless Contessa had alternate plans. It's quite possible that this is simply a temporary solution on her part - something to keep him occupied and away from something more vital, while working on a way to recruit or contain him properly.

The former, hopefully. His obvious ego aside, he didn't seem like a bad person. Not to mention that the latter had its own issues when it came to execution. No doubt, only a few Thinkers in the entire world would even be capable of holding him. Even if we stored him in an off-world facility, it was easy to imagine most of the rest of our group being eager to let him out after seeing the 'misunderstanding' - and even with my near-immunity, it was a struggle for me to imagine holding him against his will. If all else failed, I could manage to do it - but why would things become that desperate? It wasn't like I couldn't handle him and his attempts to publicly embarrass me, at least - when I had full knowledge that we may as well be the only two people in the world as far as real consequences go. Perhaps it would be different for someone unaware of his effect on bystanders and observers, but not me. Perhaps he was thinking that he had struck a deathblow to my career as a Director... but if so, he was the only person on the call who believed that.

I wait, browsing through recent news and updates with one hand - allowing time for the meeting to wrap up and the participants to leave. It wouldn't continue for long without me or my counterpart around.

Then, when enough time has passed, I turn to an empty patch of air in my room - speak briefly into the air and step through the portal to my office.

I check that the video feed is off before I speak, then I turn to the still-fornicating pair. "Was there a point to any of that?"

"Ah, Alexandria-" I flick my eyes down to the nude, cum-glazed figure of my mirror image. "-we, we have a guest. He's been very helpful-" As if on cue, the man bottoms out inside her - making a show of depositing his cum into her eager asshole, while she makes an equally loud show expressing how much she's enjoying it. "-aahn~"

"So I see." I deadpan. "And is said guest going to stop being helpful some time soon? I'd like to throw away the desk to be burnt as soon as possible."

"Oh, well. Mr Guy was only here to help me with the meeting. I imagine he has other things to do-" She looks back over her shoulder in silent question.

"I might stick around and chat with Alexandria for a bit." Mr Guy, clearly not his real name, responds with a smile. A clear reference to the now-deceased Nice Guy. A fan? Or, with how powers tended to crop up - a relative? He didn't share any obvious resemblance, but it wouldn't be the strangest coincidence. "I hope you don't mind leaving us for a bit?"

She nods in understanding. Tragic. She actually believes the excuse that he gave without even a glimmer of suspicion. Even now, she thinks that he genuinely wants to help her, rather than simply wanting to fuck her in an indirect attack towards me. She couldn't even appreciate what he had done to her, the lines that he'd made her cross - the utter humiliation and degradation she'd gone through, completely oblivious to it all. But I could. And he could as well.

I stop the woman from leaving out of the office door, hastily summoning a portal and hurrying the bemused woman through it before she could get any ideas about walking out of the building looking like she does now. There was no need to test exactly how far the lingering, indirect effects of his power could extend. Just because I could likely count on people not calling for my resignation, didn't mean that people wouldn't assume I was an exhibitionist or a complete slut when 'I' walked past them looking like I'd just finished starring in a porno. I turn back to the man. "You do realise that your entire show was completely pointless, don't you? Not a single person on that call aside from you and me has any appreciation for what you were doing."

"No harm done then, was there?" I can't dispute that. That was the only reason I had yet to do anything about his actions. So long as it was limited to the two of us, I could tolerate it. "Besides, nothing is pointless if you enjoy doing it." He quips, a lazy grin on his face.

"I'm quite certain that you would enjoy doing all of that with any woman who crossed your path." I sigh loudly. "What, precisely, was the point in targeting my body-double specifically? An attempt to damage my standing among the Directors, perhaps?" Even if I already knew the answers, more insight into his thoughts would be useful in the future.

"If I wanted to do that, I could have just dropped your secret identity at a local TV station and moved on. It's not about trying to discredit you or anything." I incline my head in agreement. He could have tried, certainly. Contessa would have interceded at that point, or very likely - had already interceded, in a way subtle enough to get the thought out of his mind entirely in favour of this 'strategy'. "No, I'm not doing this for me." I snort at that. He looks ready to argue, then rolls his eyes. "Oh, fine. I'm not saying I wouldn't have made a move on you or-" He waves a hand at the air. "-her. Whatever her real name is. I would have done that anyway, once all the important stuff was handled. But no, the motivation has changed. I'm doing this for them."

I wait for him to continue. He seems content to wait for me to ask as he starts strolling around the office picking up discarded clothes. "Them?" I give up.

"The poor victims of Behemoth, of course!" He spreads his hands wide. "You see, I don't have any powers to bring anyone back from the dead - but I did have a variety of ideas on how to stop Endbringer attacks. Between being the world's greatest therapist and gathering the world's best Capes where it comes to the art of fucking with powers and their shards, I figured it wouldn't be too hard. Naturally, I went straight to the more agreeable members of the Triumvirate once I got back from my unscheduled detour. Didn't want to risk a repeat, needed access to Doormaker as soon as possible. So don't worry, I've solved it all without you. Probably, I'll keep an eye on it. But then we come to the question of what to do about the person who stopped me from handling it all before this most recent attack even happened? There's a lot of people that are dead because you wouldn't listen to me. I know where the bulk of the blame really lies, but you do share some amount of that blame from my perspective."

I close my eyes. Still babbling nonsense. He believed that he was telling the truth, no doubt. But his wild claims had yet to find any basis in reality. He'd met with... Legend, yes. I didn't doubt that. The only member guaranteed to not have a Thinker power. Legend had humoured the man and his odd requests, and now he genuinely thought that he had saved the world. As if something as wild as defeating the Endbringers in one boring weekend wouldn't require all of Cauldron meeting to discuss the viability of the plan, and that was the least of all the reasons why it was impossible. And that was giving the lunacy of his speech far more credit than it deserved, he was meandering wildly between one apparent point and the next - as if assuming that I had the same insight into his warped, delusional mind as he did.

"Using the deaths of civilians and Capes to Behemoth as a pretext to commit sex crimes is a new low. I'm almost impressed." I shake my head. "And then following it up with trying to blame me for the attack? The world is harsh, but even if I don't think you're innately a bad person - don't think I'll just allow myself, and everyone else that has lost their lives against the Endbringers, to be insulted like that. Every one of us, both inside Cauldron and out - would do anything to stop the Endbringers if we could."

He pulls a face. "I already said that I wouldn't hold you entirely responsible. That would be mean. I mean, I see your point of view. You've probably seen people like me before, you're just trying to do your best... I understand. Not just my situation in particular, but Cauldron as well. The stakes are high, you think that you're right... I do get it. If I didn't get that, I'd have you as a free-use attraction in Times Square right now to pay for your crimes instead of having a little fun at your expense." The implausible threat slips from his lips, the words just as uncaring and arrogant as his lifestyle would suggest. The fact that he even felt safe enough to utter that sentence showed that I was doing the right thing by allowing him to believe that I wasn't sidestepping the worst of his power. He felt in control, and therefore, he didn't feel the need to act out. "So, looking at it all on balance - and considering my own motives as well - it falls to me to find some measure of justice."

I let my eyes slip to the puddle of cum pooling on my desk. The trails dripping down my chair. The mess on the floor. "Truly, what a selfless soul."

He lets out a bark of laughter. "I did say that I was keeping my own motives in mind! It's just a matter of flavour. A measure of karma, perhaps. It's a bit of hypocrisy on my part. Judging people and toying with them how I see fit, much like I could criticise Cauldron for. Blaming and rewarding them for things that they've yet to do. I'm sure other people would come to different conclusions. True heroes, or fallen villains?" He hums to himself for a moment. "Personally, I'd call you heroes - but ones that began to lose their way under immense pressure. That got a bit too distant from those they had power over. A bit too jaded and cynical. A bit too accepting of each individual pointless cruelty as long as the overall aim was correct. I think treating you as I do everyone else - with a little extra chastisement to knock you off your pedestal - is quite fair. A happy ending, if accompanied by a somewhat jarring fall back down to earth."

I give him an unimpressed look. He was far from the first to try and judge our actions as immoral, but he certainly was the first to be quite so openly hypocritical about it. "And that 'chastisement', as you so politely put it, just happens to take the form of fucking my body double?"

"It's a start." He allows. "I can't say that I feel all that terrible about the Behemoth victims, considering how many died before I ever arrived here - but it does bug me that they genuinely might have lived if you hadn't been quite so full of yourself or convinced that you just knew better. I'm not a religious man, but I'd like to think that those poor victims are looking down at me with approval from whatever heaven they might have believed in - looking forward to watching the things that I have in store for you. Watching me train that arrogance out of you. Watching me teach you a bit of humility. Watching me knock you back down to your roots as a real hero."

"And you think I'll just allow that?" I quirk an eyebrow at him behind the mask. "The fact that we are even having this conversation should be warning enough that your power isn't protecting you from me. It's one thing for me to refrain from attacking you when it suits me, but if you start getting disruptive - it's quite possible for me to change my mind."

I note the expanding glimmer of interest in his eyes with a pleased hum to myself. It had seemed like a risk, at first - but he hadn't seemed scared or intimidated in our first conversation when I revealed that I could pierce the veil of normality that his power was putting up. If anything, his engagement had only increased at the implication that I didn't think his power was fully functional against me. That was exactly what he wanted to hear, because when I spoke the truth - he misinterpreted it and thought it was overconfidence. The possibility that I was correct didn't even enter his head. That was useful, because it meant that I didn't even need to pretend. I could call out everything he did in real time, and he would look at what he saw as a helpless heroine in utter denial and feel...

I grimace. Aroused. This was definitely a fetish for him. I wouldn't call myself a prude, but I couldn't say that I was exactly happy at the idea of so blatantly ticking off this man's boxes for what he wanted from a woman. But it was useful. A red rag to a bull. Blinding him to whatever else I did by feeding his god complex exactly what it wanted to hear. Because it wasn't just about getting away with doing whatever he wanted to women, he actively enjoyed the process of watching women come to terms with what his power had made them do. Watching attitudes start to change, new behaviours start to become habit and the taboos of yesterday becoming the routines of today. It was a sickening reminder of the man's perverted nature, but also extremely useful at keeping him from causing trouble.

Because he wasn't going to get distracted now. He wasn't going to go running off to different parts of the country, ticking off women from his to-do list like some kind of tourist. Now he had a challenge. A project. And every one of his actions for the foreseeable future was going to be focused on trying to bring my attitude into line with every other woman that he'd used his power on so far. The more he inevitably failed, the more obsessed he would get. Trapped, until Contessa came by to take him from my hands.

"You're throwing out some tough words, but if you were going to do something about it - I think you would have done something already." He crosses the room to stand in front of me, one hand trailing along the ruined desk. "After all, it's hard to find a line in the sand when you've already fallen so far. If there's nothing objectionable about the world seeing me fuck the Chief Director, then it won't make any difference if they see me fucking the real deal at the next meeting - will it? It's all the same as far as they could tell."

"Except for the fact that I won't be anywhere near so willing to spread my legs." I correct him before he can delude himself any further about the odds of me doing anything like that for him. Him trying to sully my image was expected, but he was hardly going to be capable of overpowering a Brute. He simply wasn't capable of getting me to do anything that I didn't want to do, and it was going to be fun watching him realise that I wasn't going to be as much of a pushover as my body double had been.

"You didn't answer the question." He points out.

I consider him silently for a moment, processing the question. On the face of it, the answer was obvious. There were no true consequences whether it was truly me or not, so it shouldn't make any difference. Either way, the only damage is a temporary blow to my pride - which was to say, nothing of value at all. I knew that. There was no denying any facet of that statement. Yet, that was exactly what he wanted me to say. I could see it in his face, the anticipation of me saying something that he would consider as a personal victory - even though he knew all of those facts just as well as I did. Why? Was it truly just pride, even when he could clearly see and acknowledge that I was different from the other women he had toyed with so easily? They hadn't noticed his powers. They hadn't complained at their treatment. They didn't even think that he was capable of doing anything wrong, and they certainly weren't capable of calling him out on it. So, faced with the obvious conclusion that his powers weren't having their usual effect - where was this wellspring of confidence coming from?

I approach the question at every angle, searching for some hidden trick that I was missing - some quirk that I had missed from his power. But there was nothing. Nothing save from my general, uncharacteristic reluctance to not reduce him to a bloody smear for everything he had done so far. But that was just his power at work - that was expected. Already accounted for. I could work around that power if I ever needed to, however he felt about it - it was just as much about intent and mental tricks than anything else. If I didn't think I was harming him or acting against him, or if I thought that what I was doing was for his own good - his power simply wouldn't do anything to stop me. It simply wasn't a threat, so long as I kept an eye on what he was doing and kept clear boundaries where I would jump to action if he attempted to cross them.

I was right. I was sure of that. But I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The conclusion that he was just being egotistical didn't feel entirely wrong, but simple ignorance didn't line up with the sharp gleam in his eyes. It didn't explain why Contessa had allowed him access to Doormaker. And it certainly didn't explain why his mood only grew happier at every short, cold reminder that I wasn't under his control. Sadly, I wasn't quite a mind-reader. Trying to decipher whatever twisted meaning he got out of me stating the obvious was a waste of effort.

Time to answer, the silence was getting to be too long - even if I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking into a vertbal trap. "Technically, that's correct. Your powers would ensure that there would be no material difference between violating my body double and theoretically-" I stress the word, as if to highlight that it still wasn't on the table. "-doing the same with me. It would be equally as ineffective at damaging my reputation, however much you might wish it were otherwise." He seemed amused at that, but I didn't see any indication that it was anything over than his usual overconfidence. That was good. If he believed the statement was funny because he had convinced himself that I was wrong, that meant that everything was under my control. If something in his demeanour had indicated that there was something else I had missed, a facet of his power that I had yet to discover - that was the only way he could be a threat to me.

"Just checking." He smiles. "In that case, I'll look forward to another productive day of work tomorrow. I'll see you around, Alexandria." His hand comes up to brush against my face, fingers soaked in a mix of juices fresh from the puddle on the desk. He smears them against my cheek, then chin - and then finally up to my lips. I keep my mouth stubbornly closed until he steps away, eyes alight with some twisted form of amusement. "That's a good look on you, by the way."

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, affixing him with a cold look of disinterest. "Don't get used to it. You're fortunate that I'm reasonable enough to not turn you into a bloody paste for disrespect like that." In truth, it wasn't that disgusting. This was practically tame for my time as Alexandria, but there was no point in giving off the impression that I was some toy that would simply allow him to do anything he liked without complaint. There was simply no sense in telling him the truth about my true apathy towards his actions. Plenty of people actively enjoyed getting cum on their face, and while I was no expert in the field - I wasn't such a prude to be genuinely repulsed by it for no real reason. We had far greater secrets shared between the two of us already, what was a temporary mess that was cleaned up just as quickly as it was made - compared to the mockery he had made of one of the most important offices in the United States? A bit of cum on my face was nothing special. A little overrated, if anything.

But he thought that it was disrespectful. He thought that he was flexing the effect his power had over me with every minor transgression that didn't get him immediately killed, as if I could ever have reached this position by resorting to violence at every sign of disrespect. So long as I played along with that mistaken impression of his, he remained predictable. A simple man doing simple things. It was obnoxious to put up with, yes. But I hadn't noticed what he had done to my receptionist until after I had been alerted to his presence. I couldn't take the risk that, bereft of entertainment, he might go and cause havoc out in the city that I might fail to notice entirely.

"What can I say, I'm a very lucky man." He responds drily. "I just keep getting away with it somehow."

That 'somehow' being that we simply hadn't had time for a suitable Cauldron meeting to decide what to do with the man. Simply keeping a potential asset occupied like this was not what our organisation was designed for. We had holding cells for a reason. I already know why he's an exception to that. Especially now that someone had blundered into giving him access to Doormaker. Like it or not, I was stuck with him for now - unable to properly respond to his juvenile, lewd acts as I so desperately wanted to do. The worst part is that he genuinely thought that this was all because of his power, rather than simple pragmatism and patience on my part - as if fucking my body double in front of my work colleagues, turning my desk into a cum-plastered shrine to debauchery and openly smearing his seed on my face would be enough to make me lose my cool.

As long as his power was in play. I amend my thoughts. Clearly, all of that was utterly unacceptable for just anybody - it was the fact that his power ensured that, so long as I was willing to overlook it - there was no real fallout from his actions. If he extracted some twisted form of joy from it, so be it. He'd be far from the first to abuse his powers in such a fashion.

"If you say so." I roll my eyes. "Now, get out. You've made quite enough of a mess already."

He chuckles, heading towards the door. "Good luck with the cleanup." He calls over his shoulder, stepping out.

For a moment, I consider calling after him. We made an effort to keep the use of portals in this office as a secret, so having more people leave than actually entered could raise some concerns. But I stop myself, because I immediately realise that he didn't use Doormaker to get in here at all. He just walked right through the freshly-revamped security measures like they weren't even there. Again. I wasn't entirely sure if he had done it purely to show off his powers and how ineffective the new measures were, or if he was just genuinely unaware that they were even intended to stop him.

I watch the security feed as he approaches the first checkpoint on the way down from my office. Manned by two topless security guards, he should at least be confronted about his purpose. There was no way for him to have legitimate clearance or identification, so seeing how the guards interpreted him as being allowed to flaunt the rules could be useful for the next revamp of our M/S measures.

Both guards turn at his approach, and, as one - drop to their knees at his approach, hands coming up to squeeze their breasts enticingly as if their job was closer to prostitution than one of the most important security jobs in America.

It wasn't fair to be angry. This was the effect of a power, not a simple error in judgement. But I was still annoyed. It was one thing for a power to have just the right aspects to slip past our M/S countermeasures unnoticed - but it was quite another for the guards to so easily be compromised. For them to be so easily convinced that not only was this man allowed in the building, but that it was entirely appropriate for them to practice their fellatio skills on him at any given opportunity. Not to mention that their state of partial undress was almost certainly his work as well - and I would certainly be interested in what possible justification they had for why they had listened to a stranger when he had suggested that it was appropriate for all visitors to the top floors to be flashed by the guards as they passed through the inspection point.

The man - the self-proclaimed 'Mr Guy' - looks directly up at the camera as the guards crawl towards his dick. I don't need to be a Thinker to recognise the mouthed word at the camera.

Tomorrow?

Directed at me, certainly. The brazen, undeserved confidence was almost funny. But him so openly stating his goals made things easier for me. A bit of failure might humble him, make him more tolerable to spend time around as he realised that his power didn't simply guarantee my compliance with every bit of degeneracy he could think of. In fact, the easiest solution here was to simply not be in the office when I was expected tomorrow. It was easy to imagine him wandering around my office trying to find me, failing completely and eventually getting distracted by the security guards - leaving me free to complete my work without interruption. A day of successful stalling, without needing to reveal the truth of the fact that I could ignore his power whenever I wished.

No need to scare him, after all.

---

I do my best to maintain a level stare at the laptop screen as Mr Guy jerks off next to me. I honestly should have predicted this outcome and I was honestly surprised at myself for not considering it - even if he didn't know where I lived and the paper-trail to my quiet apartment was non-existent, he could just request a door directly to my location whenever he felt like it.

Which, naturally, is exactly what he did. To make things worse, he did it at precisely the moment when the remote call began, making it impossible to redirect him elsewhere before he could do his best to disrupt the call again. He'd probably timed it like that deliberately.

But that didn't mean that I would simply allow him to get to me. Even if he seemed convinced that the world was his plaything, those of us with actual jobs had real work to do - and that meant getting through this meeting agenda without allowing him to make a mockery of it like last time. Not that it could ever get quite as bad as it had yesterday, my doppelganger was just a normal person - with no special defence against his power. She had been oblivious, naive and overly trusting when it came to this man - I was none of those things.

I wipe a hand against my upper face, then discretely clean the hand with a tissue. Subtly done.

"With the ascension of Flamboyant to the Protectorate, did you have a particular candidate in mind for leadership of your Wards team - Director Stone? If not, I recall that there were two viable candidates in Seattle that were jostling for the position - perhaps Elec-" A hot splatter of liquid goo hits the side of my face without warning, and I shut my mouth to preserve what dignity I can. Slowly, I turn to give Mr Guy a level, unimpressed look.

He doesn't even have the good grace to appear apologetic.

Then I return to the call. "Perhaps Electro might be interested in a change of scenery? I can't help but feel the arrangement would keep everyone happy, and shelve this argument for another few years."

Silence greets my statement. Not entirely uncommon, but the reason behind the silence... was not one I was particularly enjoying. I maintain a blank, professional stare into the camera - ignoring the slow trickle of cum inching down the right side of my face, hastening the slight drops from my chin that still lingered from when Mr Guy had done the same to the other side.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen? We have other items on the agenda, if we could stay focused?" I prompt them. I'd made sure, very sure, that Mr Guy was completely in the shot. I needed the full effect of his power in play to normalise his attempt at a 'prank'. If the Directors couldn't completely see him, they might explain this scenario away as me being some kind of slut that thought absolutely nothing of getting this kind of treatment from someone unknown. With Mr Guy here, this would be no different than his show to them yesterday - rather than the Chief Director doing something abnormal, it was Mr Guy doing something that had to be normal.

"Ah, it's just-" One of the younger men on the call hesitates, then throws it all out at once. "You seem to have something on your face, Chief Director. Just so you know."

Ah. I'd hoped that polite ignorance would be the only response, but someone weakly pointing out the obvious wasn't terrible either. Because now I could go on the offence, force their interpretation of events into aligning with my own vision. That was the trick, Mr Guy's power wasn't just useful for him - it was useful for anyone around him who realised what was going on. If I pushed the issue, they wouldn't - couldn't - articulate what was wrong with the current situation. They'd realise they were being silly putting any amount of thought into it, and this situation would fizzle to nothing once more.

I'm almost looking forward to Mr Guy's face when he realises that I know how to weaponise his power as well. When he realises that there is simply never going to be a moment where he can abuse his power to humiliate me in front of my subordinates... well. It will be interesting to see what he does then. Maybe he would do something reckless, something that was clearly over-the-line and intolerable even to my unusually-flexible standards - I'd have to put my foot down, of course. Even if Contessa seemed to have plans, I had no intention of allowing him to trample over my dignity to soothe his wounded ego. If the sudden awareness of real-life consequences scared him a little? That wouldn't be my problem.

But thoughts of the future could wait. Time to put Mr Guy's power to work. "And?" I let some frost slip into my voice. "Would you care to tell me what that 'something' is, Director?"

He looks a little wide-eyed at the response. A deer staring at the  approaching headlights. "Ah, it appears to be. Well. Um." He flounders for a moment. "Uh, cum? Chief Director."

"From this man next to me, who has been doing-" He was still going. "-that, ever since the meeting started?"

"...yes?" The man sounds somewhat lost, as if he wasn't entirely sure about his answer himself. "It- it would appear so?"

"And what, did you think I might somehow have failed to notice?" The man starts to shake his head, but I maintain my attack. I need to stifle any line of thinking that this was in any way strange right now. "Or did you think that this man was doing anything wrong? If there was a problem, wouldn't I or anyone on this call have said something?"

That gets a more certain shake of the head than before.

"Then perhaps there is something about his actions that are interfering with this meeting? Is there something about my current state that makes my voice unable to function? Is the sight of this-" I flick a glob of cum away from my lips with a sharp flick of my finger. "-somehow stopping you from hearing my voice? Is it stopping you from raising suggestions in this meeting? Is it even worth the slightest bit of your attention, compared to the issues standing before us right now? We're expecting to hear a report on the latest movements of the Slaughterhouse Nine and how to prepare for that, and this is what you choose to comment on?"

With each added question, the apologetic expression on the young man's face grows. "I'm sorry, Chief Director. You're right. It's nothing that needed to be commented on, it was inappropriate of me to mention." Good. A quick and professional apology- "It's none of our business if that's the kind of thing that you're into."

Unseen by the camera, I snap a pencil in half between two fingers. "What." But I could see it now, even if my words had been intended to pose questions that would, as he considered answers to them, force him to realise that his objections had no apparent basis to them - he had instead considered my words as a spirited defence of 'my' actions. The end result was the same, in some ways - but I hadn't intended to tell him to mind his own business and coast off of the fact that he didn't really mind so long as Mr Guy was around, instead I'd hoped to guide him towards the 'realisation' that there was nothing wrong despite what his instincts said.

If these were strangers, it would be tempting to let the misunderstanding go. The topic had been effectively shut down at this point, and nobody seemed to want to argue it again. But these were colleagues. I couldn't leave them with the incorrect assumption that I wanted to do any of this or that I was in any way encouraging or allowing it to happen, it would be far more preferable if they just got used to the fact that Mr Guy was this kind of person. Someone who just did this kind of thing, and there was no real point in thinking too much of it no matter who he was doing it with.

I fake a smile. "Let me correct you on that point. I'm not at all 'into' any of what is happening here, I'm simply doing my assigned duties and Mr Guy here is doing... as he pleases." I flick my eyes at him as he shifts position. "I'm sure you will agree that he is the only one- mmph!"

If it wasn't for the fact that I wasn't supposed to be Alexandria right now, I would have resisted his move to force my head towards his dick. I could have just ignored him entirely, or thrown him through a wall. But seeing a fully-grown man failing to move me even with both hands on my head would have been far too suspicious, so I have no choice but to have my speech interrupted thanks to my mouth suddenly being very much occupied.

Really, this was the perfect example of how much of a pest Mr Guy could be. Even when I was doing all I could to tolerate his more... eccentric traits, he just did his best to do the single-most-obnoxious thing possible. Looking at how much I'd already tolerated, he could easily have found some other way to keep himself entertained without stopping me from participating in the meeting. It was obvious that choosing to cum on my breasts, my hair, my thighs or just about anywhere would have been no more of a hindrance than doing it on my face had been - I'm certain that nobody in the meeting would even have remarked on it this time, even if we reached the end of the meeting and he had managed to plaster every inch of my body in his seed. Anyone would agree that allowing that, on its own - was exceedingly generous of me. Lesser women would have lost their patience with his antics and thrown him out the moment he arrived in the building.

I correct myself on that last thought as the rest of his length slides into my mouth. At least, those women would have done that if they had the same abilities as me. In reality, most of those women would welcome him in and allow him to do whatever he pleased - happily playing along with their complete humiliation without ever realising what a fool they were making of themselves. Our situations weren't at all comparable, they would have allowed this kind of treatment because they were had no control over the situation - while I was allowing it because I was in complete control.

I make certain to shift the laptop with one hand, holding it in the air to capture all of the action from a more appropriate angle - Mr Guy, for once, all too happy to allow my free movement. I could see the reason why, his simple and easily predictable thoughts might as well have been an open book to me. He was probably imagining that my actions weren't too dissimilar to one of his usual girls, streaming themselves getting fucked and holding the camera out at arms length to capture every second of it from the perfect angle. He couldn't be further from the truth, I had no interest in sharing this scene with anyone - I simply needed to make sure that any onlookers had a clear and thorough understanding of what they were seeing. It was imperative that Mr Guy remained fully in the shot so that his power took full effect - and if the participants could see my throat bulging in time with his thrusts as I struggle to accommodate his shaft, then they would realise that speaking was now an impossibility for me and that the meeting should continue as normal.

In fact, this position wasn't even that bad - now that I was coming to terms with it. I could simply watch the screen out of the corner of my eye, type into the chat with one hand if needed and every participant could plainly see that I wouldn't be speaking any time soon. Everyone could clearly see that it was Mr Guy that was the active participant in this debauchery, and that I had nothing to do with it aside from being his target. I didn't even particularly dislike what he was doing to me. For all that he was a pervert and a lecher, it wasn't exactly arduous to imagine doing sexual things with him. Not that I was doing sexual things with him, quite the opposite - he was doing those things to me, and I was simply not stopping him. That distinction was very important. But the critical part was that if there was ever someone to try this sort of thing with, someone like Mr Guy - especially with his power involved - was the perfect person for the job.

Not that I would ever tell him that. He would take that statement the wrong way, like some kind of sign that his power was working or as some admission that I genuinely liked him and what he was doing to me. That couldn't be further from the truth. My Thinker powers clearly recognised that what he was doing was wrong, that his interactions with me were anything but kind and considerate - and clearly my own actions and responses were fully-reasoned out with all of the facts of the situation in mind.

'Continue'. I type into the chat one-handed, before Mr Guy cuts off my vision of the screen with one hand - giving me nowhere to look but up at him. Clearly he had no intention of stopping until I had taken a load of his cum down my throat - but now that I had established to any onlookers that I was an unwilling participant in this and that none of this had been my choice, I was free to hasten us towards that end goal without consequence. I needed to get back to the meeting at some point after all, and waiting for his ineffectual thrusting to get him off would have me waiting here long after everyone else had left.

But that didn't shake the slight misgivings I had about my reasoning as I start to suck his cock in earnest, earning a grunt of approval from the man. Everything I had said and thought was completely logical, but the fact that I was willingly doing what Mr Guy probably wanted me to do was enough of a coincidence that I couldn't honestly say that I was happy with how things were going. Objectively, I should be happy - two opposing parties finding common ground and agreeing on the next step forward should be celebrated, but that wasn't really my preferred negotiation style. I preferred to play hard ball, but that just wasn't suited to handling the recalcitrant man in front of me. I needed to be flexible, even if that flexibility led to scenarios like this.

I close my eyes and focus, splitting my attention between the cock in front of me and the stuttering voice of a young woman explaining the recent merger of two major gangs in her region. Nothing that needed any notable input or suggestions from me, thankfully. Because for all that I was a Thinker, that didn't necessarily translate to immediate skill at... this. Sucking cock.

I was improving fast, certainly. His responses - what he liked, what he didn't like - may as well have been an open book to me. Nor was my jaw ever going to start hurting, like some women apparently struggled with. I was getting there, but I'd seen Mr Guy with other people who had done it better. My receptionist. The security guards outside my office. My own doppelganger - all of them had done a better job with this than I was now, some of that was down to experience. Unlike with me, Mr Guy had actually succeeded in turning those people into his personal free-use sluts. The fact that they had become so skilled with their mouths was a testament to how quickly they had succumbed to his power, but that petty line of logic didn't stop the flash of indignation that I can't help but feel that - for all of my advantages, and for all of my reputation, I wasn't even the best blowjob he'd gotten in the last twenty-four hours... that was a bit of a blow to my ego. A completely irrational line of thinking. Expecting to be the best at something the first time I tried it would be pure arrogance.

I just couldn't help but feel a little pang of self-recrimination at the thought that Mr Guy was looking at my efforts now, and thinking that everyone else had done it better. It wasn't that I wanted to impress him, not at all - I was quite irritated at the man and thoroughly looking forward to the day when he went a step too far and I could put him in his place - but... how to even put it into words? I suppose it was the same reason I was actually pointing effort into bobbing up and down his shaft, trying to get him off as best as I could. Doing a sub-par job was pointless. I didn't gain anything from it, I wasn't using it to manipulate him in any way - I was just bad at it. Or, average - to be fair. My lack of skill was only a negative for him, and he hadn't really done anything to deserve that.

I shove the thought from my mind. It didn't matter what he thought. I didn't even want this. I was only sucking his dick in the first place because he'd shoved it in my mouth without even asking, and the sooner I was done - the better for everyone. My temporary inexperience now wasn't even something to worry over, because I was certain that the next meeting would have Mr Guy doing exactly this once again - so I was doubtless going to have plenty of opportunities to improve in the future.

Any further introspection is abruptly cut off, a light swirl of my tongue at the tip of his cock acting as the trigger for him to climax - right as I start to slide back down his shaft again. I barely have time to react as the initial blast of hot seed plasters the back of my throat, the gooey texture sliding down with ease as all I can do is frantically swallow as more and more of his load follows behind the warning shot. He pulls my head forward, my lips reaching the base of his shaft for the first time as my throat bulges obscenely - I dismiss the rising sense of panic as I struggle for air for a moment, the best course of action was simply to allow him to continue cumming down my throat until he was done. I could hold my breath for that long, easily.

Except. He. Just. Kept. Going. I'd already long-suspected that he'd used the services of a biotinker or some kind of Tinkertech drugs at this point, refractory periods were supposed to be a thing for men - and yet I'd seen him move straight from pumping loads into every one of my doppelgänger's holes, before moving on to harass the security guards and who even knows how many other people he encountered over the rest of the day. But for me to struggle this hard to contain his load, even after successfully swallowing so much - that was all the proof I really needed even if I had never seen him in action before. I didn't really see the point in the apparent enhancement. All it had achieved was overwhelming my ability to take his load as he had originally wanted, which just meant that it was now leaking out of my mouth in an overflowing mess. If we both weren't aware of his power, I would have assumed it was just to make me look like a complete, cum-drenched slut - but none of the onlookers would ever notice that something was wrong, I knew better and even at his most delusional he must realise that this isn't really representative of who I am.

He pulls me backwards off his shaft by my hair, something that would probably be painful on a non-Brute but didn't bother me at all. Dying spurts of his climax place additional white strings over the older layers of cum on my face, while the gooey mess still leaking from my mouth joins the weaker spurts that only land on my lower body.

Done. Finally. The conversation had largely stalled out without me, but it wouldn't be too much trouble to get it back on track - particularly now that the show that had everyone so distracted was over. I lick my lips clean of some rogue droplets, swallow loudly to clear my throat and then take a long-awaited breath of air. I glance over to the laptop, and see my cum-covered face staring back at me.

I look like a whore.

If I couldn't stop myself from thinking that, there wasn't a chance that other people would - at least, if the question was left up to them. If it wasn't for Mr Guy's continued presence in the room, I'd dread to think what conclusions people would have arrived at already. I couldn't even blame them - despite having all of the context and a complete understanding of the truth of what was happening, even I was struggling to accept that this was the look of a woman that was in complete control.

Ironically, the worst thing Mr Guy could to me right now was to just leave me alone. Even with my Thinker abilities, I wasn't sure what the best thing to do once he left would be. Immediately clean up, and draw attention to everything that he had done? Pretend nothing had happened? Apologise for Mr Guy doing something so crude on screen? Apologise for being involved myself? Each course of action had its own risks, it was hard to tell how the audience would interpret my responses - would they ignore it entirely if I did the same? Would they look at my uncaring attitude towards my appearance and feel derision and disgust? If they still had their cameras on I might be able to make an informed judgement - but just like yesterday, everyone had turned their cameras off.

They hadn't even made the slightest excuse about it, every single one of them was blatantly getting off to the sight of this. It was insulting - and not something they would have dared to do under normal circumstances. Which probably meant that Mr Guy had done... something, when I wasn't looking. Whatever he had said or done to make them this comfortable in treating me like I was their late-night 'entertainment', I'd have to do work to fix it another time. Because for now? I didn't want them to be reminded of the fact that I was their boss. If they had temporarily forgotten themselves and the respect that they owed me, then that was useful right now - because that meant that they were just watching Mr Guy fuck a random slut and not internalising any of the implications that my identity brought up. If I made a fuss now, would that imply that everything that had happened before that had my tacit approval?

That's why I make the choice not to resist when Mr Guy pulls me out of my seat. That's why I allow him to bend me over the desk, face smushed against the hardened wood. That's why I slip the bottom half of my outfit around the curve of my ass and down to pool around my ankles before he even has a chance to do it himself. Because this is the only outcome that I'm sure is fine. Investigating what Mr Guy had done to make me seem like a common slut to all these people could wait for another time, as long as Mr Guy was the one who continued to be responsible for everything that happened to me during this meeting - it would all be considered as normal. Nobody would think any differently of me, and if they somehow did anyway - it would be a simple misunderstanding to clean up by leaning on Mr Guy's apparent inability to do anything wrong in their eyes.

That wasn't to say that there wasn't a part of me that wanted to say that this was the wrong move. That, regardless of logic, this wasn't a line that I should be willing to cross. But logic and pragmatism were worth more than vague, uncertain feelings that I couldn't even name. This wasn't ideal, I could concede that much. It would have been much better to keep Mr Guy away from this kind of meeting entirely, and failing that - to keep him distracted enough to not try and lay his hands on me at all. I could have handled it better, in hindsight - but here, at least, I was making the most of a bad situation. Sitting down and getting fucked was simply the objectively correct move.

Even if I looked like a slut doing it. Even if I felt like a slut doing it. Even if that was exactly what Mr Guy wanted me to do, none of that mattered. I knew that I wasn't truly like that. I knew that the alignment between my plans and Mr Guy's intentions were ultimately just a coincidence, a coincidence that played out to my benefit in the long term - with him thinking I was fully under the sway of his power, rather than the series of cold-blooded, rational judgements that had led me to to this point. Which, in some ways, was worse. There was no shame in being affected by a Master power, but knowing that - when the situation had made it necessary - I really was willing to put my body and dignity on the line for an advantage... that stung a bit.

I sway my backside left and right in impatience. I was ready. In every sense of the word. I'd known where this was probably leading to, he'd shown no sign of hesitation with my counterpart - why would now be any different? If he was hoping that I would be embarrassed at the wetness I was revealing to him as if I was some blushing schoolgirl, he was going to be disappointed. This wasn't a reaction that was personal to me, it was just the body reacting to stimuli exactly how it was supposed to. I didn't even particularly like Mr Guy, and the idea of him being the one to take my virginity wasn't something that was going to make me squeal with delight. It was an inconvenience, nothing more.

Mr Guy slams himself into my walls in a single thrust, pressing me harder against the desk as his full length sheathes itself inside me. A harsh, brutal action that would probably draw a cry of pain from most people - but I was a Brute, and therefore couldn't ever be described as 'most people'. Aside from a mild sensation of discomfort as he repositions inside me, all I could feel was...

I turn my gaze away from the laptop and my own reflection, feeling oddly self-conscious. Well. Even if this was an inconvenience and even if I wasn't particularly enamoured with the man - there was no real reason that I couldn't enjoy myself. For all that I was a public role model of sorts, I'd never professed to be a saint. I'd never taken any vow of purity or celibacy. No concerns of adultery, and with the effect of his power - no worries about what people might consider to be depraved or immoral behaviour. There was nothing - nothing at all - wrong with what I was doing now. Nothing wrong with enjoying it. I was allowed to have sex. Obviously. I'd never felt that I couldn't, I'd just focused on other things. More important things.

If anything, I should focus less on sulking about the loss of efficiency and the extra work this was going to cause me - and start appreciating the benefits of the situation. Even if I didn't have any intention of ever allowing him another chance to repeat the events of today, I could at least enjoy the moment. In truth, I probably couldn't ask for a better partner. He clearly knew what he was doing at this point, and come to think of it - I can't even think of a single one of his previous... conquests, that even seemed close to unsatisfied. Now that I was in the same position - even if it was for a completely different reason than simply being oblivious to his power - I was starting to appreciate why.

In. Out. In. The rhythmic impact of flesh meeting flesh fills the room, and it's all I can do to maintain my composure - biting down on my lip to prevent myself from crying out. On the surface, that wasn't something that I should be bothering with - but I'm sure that any sign I give that I'm actually enjoying this would make Mr Guy insufferable for the future and encourage him to try doing this more. Simply putting up the impression that I was both uninterested and unimpressed would help remind him that I wasn't simply another one of his toys - but someone who had merely tolerated his actions so far.

The only trouble was that my steady mask of indifference was becoming harder and harder to maintain. Whether it was natural talent or some obscure, niche secondary power - he was good at this sort of thing. His hands and cock manipulating my body like an instrument, combining with his ridiculous endurance to make a force that seemed tailor-made for turning women into puddles of bliss. My body, which had always seemed like it was more of a weapon than something to be enjoyed - was instead showing me just how much I had been missing out on. It felt good. It felt great.

Too good. I try and mask the inner convulsion as I'm driven over the edge without mercy, but the pleased hum of amusement behind me - followed by an encouraging spank on my bare asscheek - told me that my efforts had been in vain. He was all-too-aware of what he was doing to me, and he was enjoying every bit of my failed resistance to the idea of expressing myself. Fine. It wasn't even him that I was trying to hide it from, the two of us were the only ones that were even fully aware of what was happening - no, I was more focused on maintaining the dignity of the Chief-Director to our unseen audience. The shameless voyeurs that didn't have the decency to disconnect from the call when it was evident that there wasn't going to be any further business discussed.

In a different situation, I might have taken a moment to make some verbal jabs at either the audience or the man slamming into me from behind - but I had bigger problems to worry about. Namely, the fact that he hadn't stopped. Not even slowed down. No sooner had my body stopped shaking from the first, did a second climax begin to build in its place. But at least something about Mr Guy's efforts had changed as well, gone was the regular, relaxed pace - now he was hitting harder, faster, deeper - each pant and sigh another sign for me to analyse and come to the simple conclusion that he was about to cum inside me.

Not something I was too upset about. My power kept my body in a perfect, stable state - save for the incident with the Siberian - and one of the perks from that was simply that I didn't get periods. All of my eggs stayed in position, and therefore I wasn't going to be impregnated any time soon. Which was a good thing. My insides obviously had a certain amount of flexibility to them, but I would wager that my power would win against a baby if it came to it.

So once again, there was no reason not to let him just... do his thing. It was almost annoying how I kept reaching that conclusion. I couldn't possibly fail to recognise the damage that I was doing to his impression of me. When we first met, he had the appropriate level of wariness about my Thinker abilities against his power - but now, just because the best logical move for me happened to line up with the things he wanted from me, he thought I was just another pushover. It was almost irritating enough for me to do something else out of spite, but I liked to think that I had outgrown that kind of pettiness. Logic and reason would prevail here. I'd be able to make a better impression and reset our professional relationship to something more appropriate in the days to come.

Right. It wasn't like this moment - with Mr Guy's hot seed spilling into me in a torrent - actually meant anything long-term. He thought that it did, but that was just his lack of Thinker powers at work. I already knew that any issues were under control, if not by me - then by Contessa. And as for the audience...

Well. My doppelganger had been far more enthusiastic yesterday. It didn't matter how much of a show I put on now. So long as Mr Guy was involved, I could easily correct whatever incorrect ideas had materialised. The misunderstandings that people would have. The assumptions that would be made. I could fix it all later. My position required and demanded respect, it wouldn't do for people to think that I was a slut.

Mr Guy slides out of me, letting me sink back into my seat - squelching lightly into the puddle of juices that had settled there. More ruined furniture. Mr Guy circles around, a cheery smile on his face as he waves at the camera again.

Before he can speak, I wrap my lips around his cock again.

"Now that's some real enthusiasm." He almost sounds like he's holding back from laughing. Asshole. "I'm almost impressed at how quickly you've caught on. I thought you'd be in denial for another week or two at least."

I pull off his cock, then set my tongue to work. "Don't pretend that this I'm doing this because I want to-" I give a long, slow lick along his shaft - cum pooling on my tongue before I swallow it down. "-you know as well as I do that you were just about to shove this in my mouth." Just as his words weren't purely for me - I wasn't saying it for him, I was educating the people watching. Leaving his words unchallenged would cement them as the truth in their minds.

"Would I do such a thing?" He attempts to sound innocent. "But really, even if that was true - you wouldn't have volunteered if you didn't want to do it."

I move closer to the base, the impromptu tongue-bath doing wonders already. "I prefer doing things on my own terms. That's all. You don't need to read anything more into it, particularly because nothing like this will ever happen again." That last part was aimed at him. A reminder of the way my Thinker powers could see through his Stranger one. Admittedly, he'd gotten the better of me this round - putting me into a situation where the best move was simply to play along. But that was nothing to do with one power beating the other, and everything to do with the fact that relying on his power to safeguard my reputation had been my best option. Outside of this room, I had options. Plans. I'd never be put into this same situation again, and never need to make the same choices again.

I pull away, his cock slick and clean once more. Still not flaccid.

With the risk of him deciding to just keep going... I sigh. "This meeting is over. We'll follow up on any missed topics at the next meeting." My tone brooks no arguments. I disconnect from the call in one quick motion.

Then crush the laptop screen from the camera in one hand.

I turn to a bemused Mr Guy. "I hope you enjoyed that, because it won't be happening again."

--

"I'm sure you told me a few days ago that this kind of thing wouldn't happen again." A dry voice calls down from above me.

I squeeze both breasts into his shaft, forming a tight tunnel to jerk him off with. "This is a completely different situation, and you know that as well as I do." Neither of us were entirely wrong, to be fair. He was right to point out that these last few days I had been... less successful than I had hoped when it came to redirecting his lusts elsewhere during key moments. And I was correct to say that what I was doing now had very little to do with what I had chosen to do then. Back then, I'd been unprepared and forced to make some tough decisions that happened to line up with what he wanted as well. But now? Now I had more freedom. Now I could plan ahead. Now I could exploit the mistakes that he made, and mitigate the damage he could do to my reputation.

Mistakes like arriving a little bit too early to the office, before the next meeting had even started. That allowed me the chance to start wringing his cock dry before he even had a chance to be disruptive. I'd already taken two loads into my throat, and this latest effort with my chest was leading him well along the way to a third. There was an argument that it was pointless and wasted effort, that whatever power or modifications led to his bottomless sexual stamina would allow him to just fuck me during the meeting on top of what I was doing now - and while that was true, it wasn't like he was a robot. Just because he could keep going if he wanted to, didn't mean that he would. At some point, he'd decide that enough was enough - and spare his partner for another day. Or settle for a pleasant chat without a hint of sexuality at all. It all depended on what he considered to be enough, now that the physical limitations were out of the way.

That was what I was relying on - this counting towards a 'good session' in his mind. If he had grown tired of getting his dick sucked by the time the meeting actually started, he couldn't exactly muzzle me with his cock and prevent me from having any input into the meeting without losing out in some way. It would sound crazy to most people, but this was the benefit of being able to circumvent his power with cool, logical Thinker powers of my own. It was a textbook example of how I planned for our interactions to go - him, falsely believing that he was in control of the situation - and me, outwitting him with ease for my own benefit.

The fact that he was so oblivious to it was almost ironic. A mirror of what his power did to other people. Just because he was sat in my chair, while I was crawling under my own desk worshipping his cock - as far as he was concerned, that was a victory. He wasn't even considering the long-term implications of what I was doing here, I didn't even need my powers to verify that.

"Good afternoon everyone." Mr Guy enthuses out loud. "I hope you've all been well?"

"Better than ever." A faint, repeating noise is audible from the speakers as he speaks. "I'll admit, I wasn't so sure about your ideas before - but I can't deny the results."

I didn't need to see the screen to know that the speaker was also getting his dick sucked right now. Mr Guy seemed to have taken it upon himself to 'solve' these meetings in his own way. Anyone that distracted from his main objective, which was to say, anything that drew attention away from his continued failed efforts to humiliate me - would find themselves being visited in person by the man. Two of my best directors had 'retired'. One woman had actually confronted him about me... in her own, somewhat confused way. Honestly, the rant had been more directed at me than Mr Guy - but the man honestly barely needed an excuse to 'put her in her place' and turn her into exactly the kind of useless slut that half of these meetings were talking about these days. There was a worrying trend there, people that were listening to what Mr Guy had to say and what he was doing - and not finding anything wrong with it. So even if I hadn't been upset personally when she spent the entirety of the next meeting being spit-roasted by her assistants, I was still irritated at Mr Guy for yet another way that he'd reduced our effectiveness as a group.

In fact, that was probably her I could hear in the background now. One visit from Mr Guy had been all it took to turn her into the kind of slut willing to suck off her fellow Directors during a live meeting. While I could sympathise with her position as a woman - especially when the reason she'd drawn Mr Guy's attention was to confront his activities... her actions only made it more difficult for me to stay unnoticed. The kindest thing I could do for her was to simply pretend that nothing had changed, and maybe she'd one day recover from her newfound 'normality'. Probably not, without a Thinker power. But I wasn't going to risk my own position in pointing out that what she was doing right now was immoral. Not when I was putting all of this effort into quietly blending into the background to avoid people saying 'obvious facts' like that out loud.

Besides, it wasn't like she was being actively manipulated by Mr Guy's power now. Nothing she did while he was there was really under her control, but everything after that - including her actions right now, were entirely up to her. Nobody was forcing her to debase herself like this. Nobody was stopping her from realising that being demeaned by her colleagues regularly was something she could speak out against. Nobody was preventing her from realising that she was doing anything wrong, or that this wasn't in her job description. The fact that she was doing this so enthusiastically, so easily - without even needing encouragement or follow-up orders from Mr Guy... well. Maybe she was just that kind of woman. I wasn't going to say that there was anything wrong with that, but maybe she was better off this way - and that my efforts to undo the negative changes Mr Guy was making, were better spent elsewhere.

"Are we all here? What about the Chief-Director?" One hand on my head prevents me from rising up to announce myself.

"She's busy under the desk, but she can hear us all just fine." Mr Guy assures everyone.

"Right. Where else would she be?" Some muted sniggers emerge from the speakers. I can't help but feel a flash of irritation at their choice in wording. They were definitely getting too comfortable with the idea that all of this was normal. And while I couldn't blame them for that while Mr Guy's power was in play, I could still blame them for the increasingly confident and casual disrespect that they were showing to not only me, but to many of the other women on the call. Mr Guy hadn't forced that attitude on them, he'd just been himself - and they'd slowly started to align themselves with his worldview. Mr Guy didn't even like them. He just thought it was funny watching me spend three hours undoing the changes to their attitude that he'd made accidentally in twenty minutes.

If nothing else, I could satisfy myself with the knowledge that any disrespect towards me now - even if it was misplaced - would be returned twice over eventually. One possibility was that Mr Guy would move on, leaving me to hold them to account for every word and action they'd done - and naturally, drawing attention to the fact that there had been a Master involved for so long would place my own credibility at risk, so I would have to leave them out to dry and face responsibility for their 'own' poor decisions. And then there was the alternative, that Mr Guy would be around long enough to grow tired of them. I couldn't fail to notice how every new replacement for the ones that had left was some dumb bimbo that had clearly had all the brains fucked out of her before reaching her new position. For all that Mr Guy was entertaining himself for now with handing off the women he wasn't interested in to the more entertaining males, I knew that eventually he'd just prefer to be facing a wall of keen, nubile sluts in these meetings than interact with his fellow males.

I should probably be upset about that, but the sad part was that I was starting to prefer the new arrivals. They, at least, intimately understood my position - they knew not to read too much into my supposed 'choice' to sexually service Mr Guy during these meetings. They'd been there - even if they'd been more enthusiastic and willing, they at least empathised and didn't look down on me for it. That was an improvement. I wasn't all too pleased that they considered our situations to be similar, but it was still to my benefit in the end.

I listen in on the opening statements of the meeting distractedly. Regular business, aside from the unabashed depravity on display from a significant number of attendees. In truth, aside from that one little downside - these meetings were undoubtedly improving. Mr Guy had a way of tidying things up when he didn't like them. The more irritating, loudmouth Directors had either learned to keep their mouth shut around Mr Guy or no longer had a job. The persistent, recurring topics earned a single visit from Mr Guy in person and never came up again. I hated to admit it, but I could see why Contessa had kept him around - and kept him around me, specifically, at that. He was a troubleshooter, in his own, perverted way. He was fixing things, and enjoying absolutely none of the pushback that I would have gotten trying to do the same - Thinker powers or not, there were some things that Master and Stranger powers just did better. It was just a matter of using the right tool for the job.

And now, Mr Guy was one of my tools. An unconventional one, certainly. A little harder to control than most. There weren't exactly any other people around that were best manipulated by doing all of the things I was doing now - but what was important was that it worked. I still wasn't entirely convinced that Contessa couldn't have found a better way to convince him to... assist, if my daily struggles at work were really something that the Path felt the need to help out with. It certainly wasn't too simply free up some of my time, because I was spending just as much time - if not more - fixing the messes he left in his wake.

Or was fixing the 'damage' not even necessary? Hadn't I just been ruminating over the fact that he was intending to oust half of these people from their positions once he got bored of them? Maybe I was being too focused on putting things right back how they were once he left, and not considering the gift he'd dropped into my lap - completely without intending to, naturally. If I just let him do as he liked, get bored with my lack of reaction and eventually move on - would I just be left with a council of easily-led bimbos that were too dumb to realise that they'd been demoted to the position of glorified-sex-toy? I might never have to argue to advance our chosen agenda's again, I'd practically walk all over them with their lack of leadership and political experience. There were disadvantages there, certainly - but there were upsides too.

All I would have to do is... accept this. Let Mr Guy work. Even if he wouldn't - couldn't - use his powers effectively against me, the effects on everyone else were clear and prominent. Allowing him to do as he liked uncontested was immoral, yes - but I'd done worse. And in truth, it wasn't like I had done a great job at stopping him so far anyway. That was down to my personal choice rather than his power, but it didn't change the reality that all I had to do was... exactly what I was already doing.

But it felt wrong. It felt different, making the conscious choice to... almost, let him win. It was one thing to choose to let him to take a certain path of action, to take the best course of action even knowing that it was exactly what he wanted me to do - but it was another thing entirely to sign off on all of his plans. Give him blanket permission to-

-to do exactly what he was already doing. Why was I getting so bent out of shape about this? I scowl to myself as Mr Guy finally spills his load over my tits. I was supposed to be the objective and logical one here, was I really going to start wringing my hands now? After everything I'd let him do already? It wasn't even like I was worrying about him doing anything different, the only change would be my own motives - as if that had any bearing on the real world.

No. I couldn't do it. I'd continue my quiet opposition to Mr Guy, at least until I'd spoken with Contessa and Doctor Mother about their plans and intentions for the man. I'd keep undoing his work, no matter how time-consuming it was. I'd keep Mr Guy on edge, reminding him that I was different to everyone else - that I was still immune, regardless of his confidence about the topic. I didn't expect him to change his mind, but it would at least keep his efforts and intentions on me - where I could keep him under control.

I wasn't sure if it was the best option, but it was certainly the most palatable. Better than giving the impression that I was degrading myself like this, smearing his cum along my upper body and the remains of my office shirt, as anything other than a temporary measure. That was a slippery slope I didn't want to go down, if I started considering allowing Mr Guy to just do as he pleased - where would that leave me? At what point would I step in and say that enough was enough? The current situation wasn't perfect, but it was at least one where I had autonomy and control over what was happening.

As Mr Guy immediately proves. He half-drags me up and out from under the desk, looking to fuck me in another position while the meeting continues - all exactly as I had planned from the moment he walked in. For once, I had my mouth free and unoccupied during these meetings - which meant that I could counter the worst of his rhetoric in real-time, rather than let his words fester unchallenged. That was something that I wouldn't be able to do if I simply played along and allowed him to do as he pleased, completely unopposed.

I suppress the smug smirk that threatens to emerge as he positions me in my usual 'seat' - which, given the fact that this was a one-person office, was obviously his lap. Or, on his fully-erect cock, obviously. I didn't even need to concern myself with getting any clothes out of the way, I'd known that things were going to head in this direction without fail - so I hadn't seen any point in putting anything other than a shirt on for the meeting today. Of course, it wasn't that I even wanted to impale myself on his cock - it was just that he took great pleasure in ensuring that it was the only viable option remaining for me. If I wanted to be on camera, I would need to share the seat. That was just the kind of pervert he was, even when he was 'generously' refraining from slamming me into the desk and fucking my ass in front of everyone - he felt the need to put on this kind of play, as if to show me off to everyone watching and remind everyone of what he was getting away with.

"So glad that you could join us - Chief-Director." Director Piggot's short, clipped tones speak of some level of disapproval towards me.

And wasn't she the strangest person here? She shouldn't be here, and I couldn't work out why Mr Guy had made an exception. She wasn't attractive - very much the opposite. She wasn't charismatic, or in any way engaging enough for Mr Guy to want to keep her around. Not annoying enough for him to fuck her into submission and pass her off to someone else like a discarded toy. By all measures, she should be in the pile of people that were encouraged to quietly leave and pass the job to a younger, prettier woman. Yet she was still here. Conspicuous in the lack of... anything, that Mr Guy had done to her. As if he'd decided that the most amusing thing for him to do was simply watch her failing to notice anything wrong, but why her specifically? Even with my Thinker powers at full blast, I had yet to work it out.

"The meeting seemed to be going fine without my input." I nod smoothly. "I wouldn't want to distract from the-" I wrinkle my nose, glancing over the screen. Mock-up drawings of some suggested costume redesigns for some of the top heroines of the Bay. Little more than slutty, parody costumes that you would expect at a sketchy halloween party. A complete mockery, and not even something that would ever be expected to fall under our remit. But Mr Guy had suggested it, and naturally nobody spoke up to deny him. So now, a random selection of the top heroines and Wards of America were having their new costumes rated and designed by a panel consisting of one superpowered pervert, a bunch of horny old men with no sense of decency or restraint and a collection of over-sexed bimbos who's only qualification for their role was the ability to suck cock like their jobs depended on it. Which, in fairness, was accurate. "-valuable discussion going on." I conclude my sentence drily, sarcasm dripping from every word.

Mr Guy spreads my legs wide for the camera as he slides into my core. "Nonsense, your input is exactly what we need. It's all very well for us to state our preferences on aesthetics, but you have more experience with this kind of slutty appearance-"

"Don't be ridiculous." I dismiss before the nodding heads on screen have a chance to speak. "I have absolutely no experience in that kind of thing. I'll remind you that I'm the Chief-Director and a professional appearance is critical to the role, and that remains a top priority for me regardless of any unusual circumstances caused by your presence." Reminding the audience of my job title. Tick. Pointing out that any oddities are down to Mr Guy and not any choices on my part. Tick. Immediate rebuttal of his words. Tick.

Mr Guy is undeterred. "Is that really something you can say right now? I'm not one to judge, but personally I've never shown up to a meeting like this with my uniform coated in cum like that. You can't have failed to miss it, given the recency - I can only assume you thought that was acceptable? And I don't truly disagree, for the record. I just think it punches a hole in your 'professional image' argument."

"Oh? I hadn't realised. Thank you for informing me about the mess that you made all over me." I bite out, fake kindness in my smile. The loose office shirt is pulled away and discarded in a flurry of motion - leaving my chest to bounce free and unobstructed. This was the kind of twisted logic you needed to handle Mr Guy. Objectively, this was worse. But this had been made normal several times over, the people on this call had seen Mr Guy fuck both me and my body double completely naked several times now - but drawing attention to a bit of cum on an office shirt? Even the question would cause minds to whir and puzzle over the implications. So it had to go, albeit with another reminder to the audience that this was yet another thing that Mr Guy had done - and not me. "I hope nobody minds me staying like this? You know how Mr Guy is by now, I'm sure."

A chorus of approving voices emerges from the speakers. Naturally. Who was going to object to the free show? Not only that, but any actual complaints would also be complaining about Mr Guy's activities that led to this - which was to say, there wouldn't be any complaints coming.

Useful power. It was growing on me. I'd almost be jealous, if it wasn't for the obvious weakness to high-level Thinkers like me. The lack of people complaining just for the sake of complaining was pleasant.

"Never mind that." Mr Guy hums. "You've come up to join us just in time, I'd welcome your opinion on the next candidate on the list."

I send him a suspicious look over my shoulder as his hands settle on my hips, lifting me up as he pulls back - and then slamming upwards and pulling me back down in sync. He seemed a bit too pleased with himself, which usually meant that he was planning some new attempt at humiliating me. A few days ago, I might have assumed that simply fucking me naked like this was the extent of his plans - but even he seemed to be catching on to the lack of reaction being shown by the audience, so that wasn't likely. If it was a specific candidate, then perhaps he was considering one of my Wards? Or-

I pause. I'd momentarily discounted myself as an option as the Triumvirate was generally agreed to not be managed by the Directors, but Mr Guy naturally wouldn't be limited like that. Of course it was going to be me. Or rather, Alexandria. I affect a disinterested expression, allowing myself to be fucked in full-view of the camera while the next slide appears on the display.

"It's strange." Mr Guy comments, hands sliding up the side of my torso and cupping around my breasts - even as he continues to power into me from below. I was using my flight power to make the position ever-so-slightly more convenient, just for my own comfort - and not enough for it to look obvious to the onlookers. "I've been looking forward to a proper meeting with Alexandria all week, but it almost seems like she's avoiding me."

"I can't think why." I reply with forced blandness.

I can sense the smirk in his voice. "Me neither." This conversation wasn't for each other, but for those watching. "But in her continued absence, I suppose we'll just have to make some decisions on our own."

The slide changes. "No." I state bluntly at the mockup image that was showing far, far too much skin. "Alexandria has an image to maintain. She's a moral paragon for the entire Protectorate to follow. Even if she was willing - which she clearly won't be -" I stress that to Mr Guy. "-it would be a terrible idea with no benefits anyway."

"I don't know, I can be pretty convincing. I'm sure I could get her to try it out." Mr Guy seems intent on taunting me.

"It would never happen. She's off limits. Untouchable." I deny flatly. "She would never accept this kind of-" I grimace. "-mockery, in a thousand years."

"I don't know Chief-Director, Mr Guy has a good track record with these kind of things." I send an annoyed gaze at the speaker on screen. "I mean, I'm sure many of us would have said the same about you once upon a time-"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" I challenge immediately. "And what would even be the benefit of-" I gesture at what could barely even be called a swimsuit. "-that? A drastic change, for what reason? Tell me."

"W-well." He coughs. "You appear to be- uh. Relaxed. Enjoying yourself. Thanks to Mr Guy's help, of course-" He pre-empts my reminder before I can even start to get it out. "-but I'm certain that Alexandria could benefit from similar treatment."

"She works so hard, nobody could possibly blame her if she was to take some time to herself to relax." A simpering blonde murmurs.

"A delicate way of saying that someone needs to fuck her hard enough to work that stick out of her ass." Another voice pipes up. "Someone treating her like the Chief-Director is exactly what that girl needs."

"Is that how you speak to your fellow colleagues?" I hiss icily. "And about a top heroine, to boot? Remember your position, Director."

"Well. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just saying-" He squirms under the challenge. That was the trick to Mr Guy's power. It changed people's immediate instincts and responses to a situation, but didn't outright control their minds. This man's inhibitions and word-filter might be gone, but he didn't have any ability to justify why he was being so openly disrespectful.

Mr Guy continues to slam into me, his voice rumbling in my ear. "Oh, go easy on the man Rebecca. This is just a simple discussion about costumes, no different from all of those you didn't object to before now. And of course, Alexandria will have the final say in the end. And as for any 'activities' that she may or may not get up to... I'm sure you will agree, nobody here can force Alexandria to do anything. Just like with you, if she happened to end up naked in front of a camera - being fucked in the open for all to see... that would be her own choice."

"Obviously." I grit out, clamping down on his cock as he pounds into me harder and harder. Best to milk him dry as quickly as I could, the odds were good that talking back like this would end up with him slamming me down onto the desk to fuck me properly - which would make countering his arguments difficult. Keeping him interested in this position was to my benefit. "Completely different situations, but yes it would be up to her. I would hope that you already understand that Alexandria would certainly respond to advances like this in a very different fashion to me, as the Chief-Director."

Translation: I don't have to pretend to be a baseline human or be professional as Alexandria. Try anything out of line and I will turn you into a bloody smear on the wall.

Right. The only reason he'd gotten this far was because of the limitations I had to put on myself. Where the best option to continue in my role as Chief-Director was simply to crawl under the desk and start sucking. To leave my uniform behind and go to the cafeteria nude alongside Mr Guy. As Alexandria, the situation was reversed. I obviously couldn't do anything as scandalous as that in my heroic persona, so my only recourse would be to firmly shut down Mr Guy and impress the reality of our power interactions upon him. Our working relationship would change after he finally, finally realised the truth - but that wouldn't at all be a bad thing.

Honestly, it was hard to say why I had even avoided meeting him as Alexandria in the first place. It was such a clear and obvious win for me - taking away his sole advantage in the form of me needing to maintain my secret identity. I suppose I had been concerned that there might be some plan of his in play - something that would trap Alexandria in the same no-win scenario that I had been trapped in as the Chief-Director, but looking at him now... that wasn't the case. He was overconfident. Assured in his victory. Fully intent on taking the exact same approach as before. It was almost laughable that he was genuinely expecting me - without anything to hold me back this time - to simply roll over and let him fuck me like a common whore.

"Then let's leave it all up to her." I conclude, making sure to keep the smug, almost-cruel tone from my voice. "I suspect that you'll be disappointed with the results, but I think it might be an enlightening experience." I let the humour seep into my voice.

"Well said." Mr Guy injects an amused feeling right back at me. "Meeting the legendary Alexandria, in all of her glory - it's certain to be a humbling experience. One that I've been looking forward to for a while now."

Checkmate. This time, I can't hold back the pleased expression from my face - coincidentally in sync with Mr Guy painting my inner walls white and deciding to simply continue fucking me anyway. Yes. It would be an enlightening meeting. Humbling, yes - but not for me. I could already picture his terror and immediate obedience when he realised that I was playing him the entire time, dangling the truth of my immunity right under his nose. He had a lot to answer for, a massive debt to repay - this was probably the outcome Contessa wanted. A tool that was so completely in my debt, so utterly under my control, someone that implicitly understood how much they had fucked up and how much they needed to make it up to me... that was, in many ways, an improvement over a mindless agent that just followed orders.

Mr Guy would end up as just another extension of myself, someone for me to use and discard just as easily as he had planned to do to me - if only his power had been sufficient for it. But I would at least be more responsible with his power, and it wouldn't even be particularly unpleasant for him in the end. After all, with the threat of him attempting to ruin my reputation gone - all that would be left of his eccentricities would be a propensity for exhibitionism and a streak of perversion a mile-wide. And, would it be so wrong if I happened to let him indulge in that - every now and then? I wasn't ashamed to admit, I was starting to like the feeling of getting fucked. Starting to like the utter obliviousness on the faces of those watching. Getting Mr Guy under control didn't have to mean the end of that. There was nothing wrong with getting laid, after all - and with his power, there was nothing wrong with getting laid in front of an audience either.

But re-educating the man came first.

And, just maybe, I should double-check that with Contessa that this was the intended outcome?

No, that was silly. Not only did the Path simply not make mistakes, but how could everything have worked out this perfectly in my favour without it? It was obviously part of the Path. Part of the plan.

Right. Everything was under control.

And Mr Guy would be the last one to understand that.