Legend someone's here and something's wrong.

No response.

"Still not working. Let's see, my name's Jack, I'm part of this group called Slaughterhouse Nine, a colleague of mine is a thinker with a rather interesting way of applying his power so he's sort of also a master...?"

Sadde Miss Militia I'm in my house and something's wrong.

"It's rude not to respond when addressed."

Epic is going to say he's sorry.

In English?

Yep.

"I'm sorry," he says, "but I haven't seen much reason I shouldn't be rude to you."

Jack laughs. "I suppose there isn't." He walks over to the sofa and sits on it. "Now, come on, Super, don't be shy, let's introduce to our new friend!"

From the same room Jack came comes a—he must be a person, probably, but it hurts to look at him, like there are many of him there at the same time, one on top of the other. He walks or glitches over to the sofa and sits on it.

ANYONE WHO CAN HEAR ME CALL THE CHICAGO PRT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

"I'm kind of involved in a lot of things already, sorry."

Super is suddenly standing, looking around uneasily.

"What is it, Super?"

    "He did something. // called someone," says Super in a superposition of voices.

"Is that so. How'd you do that, young man?" asks Jack curiously.

THIS IS EPIC. PEOPLE NAMED JACK AND SUPER ARE ATTACKING ME. CALL THE CHICAGO PRT.

"I'm older than you."

- how the fuck are you doing this? Can you hear me? I called the Chicago PRT, is this working -

"How many powers do you have?" Jack wonders.

Telepathy power, thank you for calling them, did they say they're on the way - I'm in my house -

"You keep asking me things and not giving me any reason to do them, it's kind of dumb. Or is the knife supposed to be a reason to do them? I have other bodies - I have one in Brazil right now - if anything happens to this one I'm pretty sure I wake up in one of the others."

Yeah they're coming but—kinda busy, there was an attack—can you run?

"Is that the excuse you use? I suppose it makes sense." He shrugs. "No, I'm just making conversation, wasting some time, getting to know you. Oh you can sit down," he tells Super impatiently, and a glitch later Super is sitting again. "I'm pretty sure you can't get to your other bodies right now, though, so that's one little trick out of your arsenal."

Can he teleport.

Sure.

To that spot over there two feet to the right.

No I can't. It's really urgent.

"Huh. I guess if I had met you like fifteen years ago you'd have been the scariest thing I'd ever met."

Someone's coming—don't make anything.

Jack's grin widens. "Now that sounded like a challenge."

Can't. I don't think. I tried to make sure I can't.

"I know a person who uploaded peoples' brains onto computers, paved a continent with servers to run them on, and tortured them for subjectively thousands of years, just for fun. He was a god. Black holes couldn't scratch him. He had a thousand times as much attention as a person and he spent all of it trying to make the world as horrible as he could imagine, and he had a good imagination. He was not the scariest person I ever met. The scariest person I've ever met ripped him apart like tissue paper from hundreds of lightyears away."

Okay. Hang in there.

"So much competition! That sounds like fun. Can you introduce us?"

"I would be delighted. But I can't move."

"Superposition here can see the future, or many futures, and pick which one he likes best. That's how he's controlling you. As to why we're doing this, well, let's say I was rather impressed when I found out Behemoth was dead and I wanted to meet his killer in person. Here, did that explain enough of what's going on?"

He tries to swear it again. Doesn't work.

"No," he says. "I can decide I don't believe you and therefore don't know any more than I did before you opened your mouth." 

    "He's lying. // not telling the truth. // It's not true," says Superposition.

"That makes our games much more fun, doesn't it?"

" - I think maybe we find different things fun. It makes this less trivial, I guess."