Psydeath presented a unique challenge for the Chosen Ones. He was a man capable of taking on their strongest warriors singlehandedly. He worked alone and seemed to change his base of operations on a whim. He was nearly indestructible, utterly unpredictable, and completely unstoppable. Most troublingly, he was gaining sympathizers by the minute.

The Chosen Ones were used to being seen as the defenders of justice in the Pit. They did brutal things just like all the other white organizations did, but they also worked hard to defend those who couldn't defend themselves from black organizations and psychic monsters. They ran a charity that gave the homeless an opportunity to live with dignity. And if any of their members ever had any doubts about the morality of their actions, the Sages were always there to remind them what they were fighting for with devastating simplicity.

Unfortunately for the Chosen Ones, Psydeath's absurd acts of vigilantism threatened to erode the core foundation of their existence in a way none of them could have imagined. He was dealing blow after blow to the organized crime cartels, and the Nuke-smoking public, sick and tired of the Pit's endless string of psychic gang wars, was happy to see him do it. White organization, black organization, street gang, no one seemed to care too much about these distinctions anymore. Psydeath killed them all in equal measure.

The worst part of it all was that Psydeath communicated with the world exclusively through violence. No one even knew if he was aware of how popular he was becoming, or if he agreed with the way people interpreted his presence. The people of the Pit had been hoping for someone like him to arrive for a long time, someone who killed Nuke dealers and humiliated Grandebelle's great powers without even trying. Their dissatisfaction towards the Chosen Ones, Pit Razors, Cut Throats, Pit Kings, and Knife Slaves had reached an explosive boiling point. With every new ideological ally that Psydeath took on, the white organizations grew weaker.

The Chosen Ones were caught in an impossible dilemma. Even though it was becoming increasingly clear to many of them that Psydeath wasn't going away, they couldn't afford too many more public defeats if they wanted to maintain their reputation as the guardians of the world. A change in strategy was needed before things got worse. But if even the efforts of all the white organizations combined weren't enough to fix things, what more could they possibly do?

"Now that we've all agreed to treat one another with respect and civility, I think it's finally time to move on to the main point of today's meeting," said Miss Planner, clearing her throat and stepping up to the conference room's black podium.

The Elders were eager to hear her wise words and sat neatly in their seats like a group of obedient kids in a classroom. The beautiful blonde manager dimmed the lights and pressed a button on her remote control. The projector started up with a hum and displayed a holographic image on the far wall. It was a grainy video of a man covered in bandages, wandering around the streets of Grandebelle somewhat aimlessly.

"Although he might not be much to look at, this little fellow has been the cause of quite the controversy recently," Miss Planner explained, pointing into the screen. "We actually know a bit more about him than the public does. Erica, can you let in our guest?"
"Yes, Miss Planner."

The mousy girl standing behind her boss opened the door and let in Black Smoke, who looked absolutely horrible. He was always somewhat sickly, but now he looked like he was about to drop dead. He was terribly pale and couldn't walk without a pair of crutches.

Black Smoke waited for Miss Planner to turn the lights on before slowly hobbling in front of the table where the Elders were sitting. His face was downcast as if the weight of the world were upon his skinny shoulders.

"Cough... haaah..." he groaned.

"I'm sure you're all aware of how badly our last operation to take down Psydeath ended," said Miss Planner. "Each of the white organizations sent someone out to get him, and Black Smoke here is the only one who came back alive. I ask you not to see this as failure, but as a part of the learning process. Now we have a much better understanding of Psydeath’s capabilities than we did before.”

Miss Planner smiled warmly. Black Smoke was looking rather uncomfortable. The Elders stared anxiously at him as Miss Planner continued.

"Black Smoke, can you tell us what you know about Psydeath?"
"Cough. Cough. Ha... of course, Miss Planner. He was once... my associate, in the street gang... the Animal Brotherhood. I would even go... cough... as far as to say, I know him better than anyone else. He's very... very powerful. He's so strong that he... can't control his power very well. Cough... haaaah...."

Black Smoke coughed and beat his chest. His voice was horrifically strained, and everyone in the room felt an intense sense of pity for him. That is, everyone except those who knew that was how his voice normally sounded. Elder Presence offered the skinny man a bottle of water, which he gladly accepted and drank with enthusiasm.

"Hah. Thank you, great Elder. I truly wish to apologize... to all of you. I couldn't take him down. Grrrghh! Cough!"

"Please. You have demonstrated great bravery and tenacity. We are very grateful to you," replied Elder Presence with kindness. He felt a great pain in his heart when he saw the injured warrior and heard his ragged voice. He had seen far too many Chosen Ones lose their lives in meaningless battles.

"Thank you, great one. You... honor me. Cough! Cough!"

Black Smoke was still coughing and wheezing, but his composure remained unbroken. He gave the Elder a deep bow and then took another swig of water. Then, he continued.

"His strongest power... is his ability to form barriers. Combined with his great store of energy... cough... he... he's a very tough nut to crack. He can also... change the makeup of his body, block mental attacks, create explosions or beams of energy, see the future, and more... he's very... versatile."

"He must have a weakness of some sort," spat Elder Crown, banging his fists on the table. "I want to get him, no matter what it takes. He needs to be eliminated."
The rest of the Elders nodded their heads in agreement.

"As for weaknesses, sometimes, he loses control... his power makes him sick, cough. Cough! He gets very tired, and emotional. I think most psychics as powerful as him have that weakness, though... and he seems to have mitigated it, somewhat. When he was a part of the Brotherhood, he was too dangerous for us to ever let him go outside... grrrgh... we hid him in a safehouse and had to bring him food, because when he went outside, his aura frightened half the neighborhood to death. Honestly... I don't see how it's possible to stop him, the way he is now. Cough."

"In any case," said Miss Planner, looking at the Elders, "I'm sure we can all see how much of a threat he is. You can have a seat, Black Smoke. We're a little short on time, so I'm going to get right to business here."

She dimmed the lights again and clicked to the next slide, a chart labeled 'Threat Mitigation Matrix.'

"The best thing to do would be to turn Psydeath into something useful to us, but since we can't communicate with him, we have very little means to influence his behavior. The next best option we have available... is avoidance. Of course, we can't exactly just pack up and leave Grandebelle. We have an organization to run and Nuke to sell, after all. But we can still make ourselves less of an easy target. The good news is, with just five consolidated Nuke distribution centers, it won't be too hard to change our sales schedule and avoid being in Psydeath's way when he's most active."

"You want us to turn our backs and hide from this little menace?" asked Elder Crown, his hand trembling. "We should take the fight to him! It doesn't matter how strong he is. He's no match for an Elder. Or, a Fragment of Destruction! Or a God Vessel!"
"Cough, cough..."

"That's the bottom level on the chart, assumption and acceptance of risk," replied Miss Planner. "Yes, it seems like the easiest solution here is just to kill him and be done with it, but it isn't worth it. Do you really want to show your powers in the middle of a populated city? Just like we've identified what Psydeath is capable of, roughly, our enemies could easily do the same and figure out what you're capable of. And if we revealed one of our sacred mysteries, the collateral damage would be impossible to hide... we'd be putting a massive target on our backs. Better to keep things simple. We can keep the option open if the situation gets any worse, but for now, our best option really is to just avoid fighting him."

Elder Presence and Omen nodded their heads in agreement. Miss Planner clicked to the next slide, a map charting Psydeath's activity in Grandebelle over time.

"I know the situation doesn't look good, but the reality is, we're not the only ones who have to deal with him. In fact, I know there's an opportunity here. He hasn't been spotted outside Grandebelle... perhaps he's limited by a need to stay inside the city for whatever reason. So let's exploit that weakness. Remember, none of the other organizations dealing Nuke have made the leap outside the city yet. Just us. We already have a head start in Challebon, and we can take over Cinnaraco's market in no time."

"An ingenious idea, Miss Planner," said Elder Incarnate with a smirk. "Our competition will be stuck in Grandebelle fighting this maniac for years to come while we can sell all the Nuke we please behind their backs!"
"Indeed. We have a significant advantage here," grunted Elder Presence. "We should set up a distribution center in Cinnaraco as soon as possible."

"Cough... ahaha..."
"Psydeath is not to be underestimated, but we have the means at hand to handle him."
"I still say we need to eliminate him once and for all. He'll cause us a lot of trouble otherwise."
"Khhkhhh... if Psydeath comes to the Tower of the Chosen, Drifter will take his body... Drifter will become Psydeath."
"We need to be patient. The day will come that we see him brought before justice..."

Erica wasn't sure what to expect from the Elders. Miss Planner described them as unpleasant old men with godlike powers. She was worried that they'd be frightening like the Feeder in the Tower's basement, or cruelly judgmental like the managers on the thirtieth floor, or devoted to their work to an unhealthy degree like Miss Planner. But to her surprise, they were none of those things. To Erica, the Elders didn't actually seem very impressive in any way. They were just an unusually ill-tempered and silly group of old men who really did not deserve to be in charge of the Chosen Ones' business. If anything, she found them cute.

She watched Miss Planner control the meeting with amusement. The Elders argued and bickered with each other constantly, making up arguments on the spot and waggling their fingers at each other like little old lecturers. They couldn't help but speak their minds as soon as a thought popped into their heads, even when it had nothing to do with the matter at hand. When they got bored, they would sit quietly staring into space. When they were happy, they cheered and clapped each other on the back. It was hilarious. She could barely stop herself from giggling at everything they said.