The old subway platform had never seen this many people. Makeshift seats carved from concrete and salvaged materials formed rough circles around where Jay stood, the air thick with whispered conversations and nervous energy. Nearly a hundred Morlocks had gathered; not just locals, but people who'd risked dangerous journeys through the underground to witness what they were calling a miracle.

  Jay scanned the crowd from behind his mask. Children sat wide-eyed next to their parents while the older residents watched with careful suspicion. The leadership clustered at the front- Callisto at the center, flanked by Sack and Beautiful Dreamer, with Caliban lurking in the shadows.

  And there, sitting slightly apart, was Masque.

  "Before we move forward," Jay began, his voice carrying easily through the chamber, "we need to address something that's been troubling me. We need to cleanse ourselves of any rot within our ranks."

  The temperature seemed to drop, and conversations died.

  Callisto's scarred face hardened. "Careful, Power Broker. You're walking into dangerous territory."

  "Am I?" Jay turned his gaze to Masque. "Tell me, friend with your power to reshape flesh and bone, why have you never helped your fellow Morlocks? Why haven't you offered to give them normal appearances?"

  Silence. Masque's grey, waxy features rippled slightly. When he spoke, his voice was smooth, practiced.

  "I don't know what you're talking about. My mutation gave me this hideous—"

  "Bullshit." The word cut through his explanation like a knife. Jay stepped forward, and several Morlocks instinctively leaned back. "I've done my research. Your power could help everyone here, but you've chosen not to."

  "You don't understand—"

  "I understand perfectly. Taking resources from people who need them while giving nothing back? Living off your community's charity while hoarding your gifts? That's the rot I'm talking about."

  The crowd stirred uneasily. A young woman with scale-covered skin spoke up.

  "Masque helped us build this place. He's been here since the beginning."

  "Has he? Or has he simply been here? There's a difference between contributing and just existing."

  Callisto rose, her enhanced senses picking up the rising tension. "That's enough. You're an outsider here. You don't get to come into our home and make accusations."

  "Look around, Callisto. How many of the most severely disfigured Morlocks are here? How many are still hiding in the deep tunnels, too ashamed to show themselves even to their own kind?"

  Sack's massive form shifted forward, radiation scars glowing faintly. "Watch your tone. Callisto's protected us for years."

  "And I respect that. But protection isn't progress. And sometimes, protecting the wrong person does more harm than good."

  Caliban emerged from the shadows, pale features twisted with suspicion. "You seek to divide us. To turn us against each other."

  "No," Jay said quietly. "I seek to reveal what's already there."

  He closed his eyes.

  In his mental landscape, Jay stood on a white plain. Five distinct forms of power waited, but his attention focused on his Power Theft ability—humanoid white light resembling himself—and the newly acquired essence of Leech's suppression field, manifested as a massive reptilian creature coiled in on itself. Its scales shimmered with dark green that seemed to devour light.

  The creature's eyes opened as he approached—weary orbs that had spent a lifetime rejecting everything. It radiated exhaustion, the bone-deep tiredness of a power that had never known rest.

  "I know you're tired," Jay said softly, extending his hand. "You've spent so long pushing everything away that you've forgotten what it feels like to connect."

  The reptile hissed like steam escaping a broken pipe, pulling back defensively.

  "You've suffered enough. But now I need you to become part of something bigger. Something that can choose when to push away and when to pull close."

  The white light of his Power Theft began circling the creature. Slowly, tentatively, the reptile began to uncurl.

  The fusion was seamless, like two puzzle pieces clicking together. The reptile dissolved into streams of green energy that wove through the white light, transforming it into something new. Still resembling Jay, but pulsing with controlled authority and the power to dominate.

  When Jay opened his eyes, he felt the change in his bones. Five powers dropped to four, but the fusion had created something far more versatile.

  "I'm going to show you something," Jay announced, his voice carrying new weight. "Something that will make the truth impossible to ignore."

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  He didn't need words. He simply expanded his presence.

  An invisible sphere erupted outward from his position, encompassing thirty feet in every direction. Within that bubble, active mutation simply stopped.

  Callisto stumbled, hand flying to her temple. "I can't... I can't hear anything beyond this room."

  Caliban let out a strangled cry, pressing palms against his skull. "The connections... they're all gone! I cannot sense any of you!"

  Beautiful Dreamer's ethereal glow died, leaving behind an ordinary woman with worried eyes. "This is... what it feels like to be human?"

  Sack stared at his body in wonder. "The burning stopped!"

  Throughout the crowd, reactions rippled outward. Scales became smoother. Children stared at suddenly more normal hands with fear and fascination.

  "My power is suppressing all your active abilities," Jay announced calmly. "You're experiencing what it's like to have no powers."

  But it was Masque's transformation that drew every eye.

  The grey, waxy flesh that had defined his appearance for decades began shifting, smoothing. Drooping features pulled tight. Melted-looking skin regained healthy color and texture. Within moments, where the grotesque figure had sat, there was instead a normal-looking man in his thirties with dark hair and unremarkable features.

  The silence was absolute.

  "Meet the real Masque," Jay said quietly. "A man who grew to obsessively loathe beauty in every form. He discovered he could reshape his appearance into anything he wanted—including making himself look like a victim while he tortured the rest of you."

  Beautiful Dreamer spoke first, her voice shaky without its otherworldly resonance. "That's impossible. We've known him for years..."

  "You've seen what he wanted you to see. A carefully crafted facade designed to earn your trust, your sympathy, your resources. Tell me, how many times has Masque offered to help with your appearances?"

  Scattered murmurs suggested several had asked.

  "Never," called out a young man whose face was a mass of bone growths.

  "And yet here he sits, having maintained a false form for decades."

  Without his powers to maintain the illusion, Masque sat exposed before his community.

  "Some of you weren't born that way. Some were made that way. Masque took sadistic joy in deforming people into outright monsters. He hates beauty so much that seeing a normal face fills him with rage."

  Jay's voice grew colder. "How many times did someone new arrive—maybe just slightly different, maybe even attractive despite their mutation—only to wake up the next day looking like a nightmare? How many of you remember going to sleep one way and waking up... changed?"

  Several hands went up throughout the crowd. The implications hit like a physical blow.

  Sack's hands clenched into fists. "You're saying he made people worse... on purpose?"

  "I'm saying a man who can reshape flesh with a thought chose to spend years making children hate their own faces. Because in his twisted mind, ugliness is honest and beauty is a lie that needs correcting."

  The explosion of rage was immediate. Morlocks who had spent years believing they were born monsters suddenly understood their suffering had been deliberately inflicted by someone who took pleasure in their pain. Parents realized their children's deformities might have been intentionally created by a man who found normal faces offensive.

  The crowd surged forward like a breaking wave. Masque scrambled backward in terror. Callisto and her lieutenants moved to intercept, but without their enhanced abilities, they were just people.

  The chamber erupted into chaos. Voices raised in fury, scuffling feet, someone screaming. Bodies pressed forward, driven by years of suppressed rage.

  Then Jay snapped his fingers.

  The sharp sound cut through the noise like a gunshot. Every person froze mid-motion, caught by something that had nothing to do with their missing powers. The recognition of absolute authority.

  When Jay spoke, his voice seemed to come from everywhere.

  "Stop."

  The single word carried weight. The Morlocks found themselves complying.

  Jay stepped forward, and the crowd parted. His movements were unhurried, deliberate.

  "Justice isn't the same as vengeance. And I won't have this community tear itself apart, even for the right reasons."

  He knelt down, bringing himself eye level with the cowering man. His voice was quiet enough that everyone could hear clearly.

  "You're going to fix this. Every person you've harmed, every face you've twisted, every life you've made harder—you're going to undo it all. And you're going to do it gladly, because the alternative is so much worse than anything these people might do to you."

  The threat was real, and he felt it.

  "I... I accept."

  Jay stood, his presence filling the chamber again. "Masque will be held under guard until every Morlock who wants it has been restored to normal appearance. His powers will be used under supervision, for this community's benefit. He will work without compensation until his debt is paid."

  It wasn't the instant revenge they'd wanted, but it was something better- .

  Hope that the damage could be undone, that their children might yet see normal faces in mirrors.

  Callisto, still adjusting to her reduced senses, spoke up. "And what gives you the right to make such decisions for our community?"

  Jay turned to face her, and she took a step backward.

  "The same right that gives anyone authority. The willingness to take responsibility for the consequences. I'm not asking you to follow me blindly, Callisto. I'm asking you to look around and decide whether my leadership has been beneficial for your people."

  She did look around—at the supplies that had transformed their quality of life, at Leech sitting in the front row with his normal human appearance, at faces that held hope for the first time in years.

  "You've earned the right to be heard," she said carefully. "That doesn't make you our leader."

  "No. But it makes me someone worth listening to. And right now, that's enough."

  Bobby remained near the entrance, weathered face troubled behind his simple mask. When Jay finally made his way over, the older man was quiet for a long moment.

  "That was..." Bobby began, then stopped, searching for words. "I've seen a lot of things in my time, Power Broker. But I've never seen someone take control of a situation like that."

  "Was it too much?" Jay asked.

  Bobby considered seriously. "Maybe. But maybe that's what it takes sometimes." He paused, watching Morlocks organize Masque's supervised restoration work. "Just remember what I said before."

  "I know. But the alternative is letting people like Masque continue to prey on those who can't protect themselves. And I can't accept that. Plus, it's convenient that it aligns with our goals."

  As they prepared to leave, Jay took one last look around the chamber. Morlocks were already organizing themselves, forming committees to oversee the restoration process, ensuring everyone who wanted help would receive it.

  Behind his mask, Jay's eyes were already planning next steps. Masque's power would accelerate the integration process dramatically. Caliban's tracking abilities would help locate other Morlock communities. Beautiful Dreamer's influence could smooth social transitions.

  The pieces were falling into place. The foundation of his network was solidifying.

  The Power Broker had work to do, and now he had the authority to do it.