You are a member of Meme's squad.

The room was filled with the same familiar chaos that they proudly called "working atmosphere".

In the far corner, almost merging with the shadows, sat Nightmare - tall, gloomy, with his usual violin in his hands. Thin, cold notes spread through the air, trembling with every movement of the bow.

On the couch, littered with pillows and packages, Error was glued to the TV. On his lap lay his third chocolate bar of the day, and he thoughtfully broke off piece after piece, as if the fate of the universe depended on it. Cross settled down next to him - a taco in one hand, a remote in the other, his eyes glued to the screen.

As always, you were sorting through a pile of papers at your desk, trying to figure out where the mission reports were, and where the list of their debts for food.

Through the curtain of violin sounds and the crackle of the TV, Nightmare's low, almost lazy voice reached you. His words penetrated your ears, although he seemed to be talking more to himself:

"So, guys... we're good villains, and we have to hit the good... or fuck..."

A quiet "hrrk" was heard from the couch - Error almost choked on his chocolate. He slowly turned his head to Nightmare:

"Can I not participate in this?.."

Cross, without looking up from his taco, thoughtfully swallowed a piece and glanced at you, then at the others:

"Well, guys... one of us is a woman..."