Weakest ego

“Alright,” I said, swallowing nervously. “I need… I need the version of Hassan with the weakest ego.”

Immediately, my other options dropped and I was left with one, single person: Hassan of the Hundred Faces.

For an instant, I hesitated, because, hello, assassin. Then, steeling my nerves, I grasped at him and examined his powers and history. And in seconds, I understood why my power had singled him out as having the “weakest ego”: he’d split his mind into about eighty different pieces, each with its own personality.

Good grief, what were these people doing to themselves? Splitting their minds into nearly a hundred pieces, turning their bodies into poison, transforming their arms into some freaky, elongated…thing that killed people by crushing symbolic hearts — the hell where they on?

I frowned and worried on my bottom lip.

But that was good, wasn’t it? If I was understanding this right, the Hundred-Faced Hassan’s personalities were unified enough that they could all work together towards a common goal, but separate enough and split evenly enough that no single one of them had stronger influence over the whole than the others.

I had no idea what it would mean or how it would affect them when I was the one defining the goal, but…but, well, there was no way to find out just by standing there and twiddling my thumbs, right?

I glanced towards the clock. I’d already wasted almost half an hour.
Right. Right. This was just me waffling and being nervous, and maybe that was only natural, because, hell, my first Install since the Locker was only a couple days ago, but it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Just like I had with Installing in the first place, I was letting my fears and my worries limit what I could do, and I couldn’t afford to do that, anymore.

I steeled myself.

“Right. Alright. I’m going to give it a try.”

I reached out and through myself, grasped the Hundred-Faced Hassan.

“Set. Install.”

The change was instantaneous, lengthening my limbs, drawing my muscles tight, sweeping my hair up into a tail. I felt a mask settle on my face, forming from nothing, and when it was all over, I was an even taller, lean-limbed specter, with smoky black skin and clothes that seemed woven from shadow. When I inspected my physique, I found muscle definition that could give bodybuilders envy, and a wiry, sinuous grace that reminded more of a cat than a human being.

Best of all, the presence in the back of my head was muted and quiescent. It had no strong feelings whatsoever, only a calm focus that help me focus, to the point that I wondered, for a second, what I’d even been worried about.