"We're officially in cahoots now, Psyche, partners in uncovering the truth." I sparked up a smoke and handed one over to Psyche, a move I never thought I'd make, but here we are. "Trust is a slippery slope, especially when it comes to revealing one's true colors. Yet, something about our meeting feels fated, like we're two puzzle pieces meant to fit together. So, against my better judgment, I'm laying my cards on the table, quite literally.

I'm holding the Magician tarot card, a symbol of power and potential. My ability, dubbed The Freak Show, draws its inspiration from the darkness lurking beneath the surface of the circus. It's a place of illusion and wonder, but peel back the layers, and you'll find a darkness that rivals the deepest abyss. My power thrives on imagination, the more twisted, the better. To bring my visions to life, to make them tangible, that's where my strength lies. It's a fine line between creation and destruction, and I'm walking it with eyes wide open.

Check out this cigarette, for example. Looks ordinary, right? But with a flick of my thoughts, it transforms into a serpent. Slippery little devil, isn't it? Then, just as easily, it returns to its innocent form. See this symbol etched into my palm? The Ouroboros. Destruction and rebirth, a cycle I'm all too familiar with. But me? I like to add a little creative terror to the mix. You'll see soon enough, should we cross paths with another hostile contract holder. I prefer to keep my abilities under wraps, using this katana as a smokescreen, so to speak. People tend to underestimate a man with a sword. As for my power, it's a real drain on the ol' mental faculties. Not easy summoning things from thin air, let me tell you. And as for you, Psyche? What's your story?"

Psyche took a drag from her cigarette, then slammed her palms together as if trying to rip open the fabric of space itself. Before my eyes, a tear appeared, a literal hole in the air. It was mesmerizing. She turned to me with a determined look and demanded to know my address. I obliged, and with a swift motion, she tossed one of her rings into the void.

"That's a gift from me," she declared, settling back into her seat. "I hold The World tarot card, and I've been wielding this power long before signing any contracts. As you can tell I am quite the nerd, I am obsessed with mythology and witchcraft.

In the past 3 months, I learned about shifting, or quantum jumping which is a term now used to describe the act of moving one's consciousness from this current reality (CR) to one's desired reality (DR). This idea uses the multiverse theory, stating that every decision or action we make shifts us into a new reality, with every possible decision or action we could've made creating an alternate reality.

To traverse the shifting planes requires a trifecta of preparation:

First, there's the scripting – the art of etching your desires upon paper, mapping out the contours of your desired realm. It's all about coaxing your imagination to paint the landscape of your dreams.

Then comes the meditation – a ritual to clear the cluttered mind, to focus solely on the tapestry of your envisioned reality. It's a crucial step, a necessary purging of distractions.

Lastly, the method – a choice among many, but for me, it's the ones that beckon you to the realm of sleep. There, amidst the shadows of dreams, lies the doorway to the shifting plains.

After weeks of tireless endeavor, I achieved it – the shift. It's akin to lucid dreams or astral projection, but with a twist, a different cadence. I've become a master of these arts, a connoisseur of realms beyond our waking world. Yet, with mastery comes a toll, a draining of the mind so profound that I found myself fainting amidst the mundane chores of daily life. But such is the price for wielding such potent abilities, for delving into the infinite potential of the human psyche."

I feigned surprise, though her abilities were no secret to me. Gazing upon her with a mix of admiration and caution, I remarked, "Impressive, quite impressive indeed. I've heard whispers of your talents, especially the lucid dreaming—something I've dabbled in myself. Always had a knack for bending reality within the confines of my own mind. As for your ability, I'd dub it 'Alice In Wonderland,' a fitting moniker for traversing the unknown, the rabbit hole, whether it be within or beyond our world."

But I pressed a finger to my lips, a gesture of secrecy. "Now, my dear, it's imperative you keep this under wraps. There are others out there, fellow contract holders, who may not share our noble intentions. They'd sooner exploit your gifts than join our cause. So, when we encounter them, remember: silence is your shield, and deception your armor. Let them believe your talents are but a simple teleportation, and as for me, well, they'll know me as nothing more than a swift swordsman. And remember, our identities are our most fragile treasures—conceal your face and weave tales about your abilities. It's the only way we'll survive in this uncertain world."

She gave a nod of agreement, and I followed up with, "Good girl. Now, while the clock's still ticking, let's wrap up these drinks and start hashing out our plans or at least give our thoughts some form..."