《Greg Veder vs The World》 Tutorial 1.1 Tutorial 1.1 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C It was still there, to his frustration. Mocking him as it hung there, ignoring gravity. It wasn¡¯t the first one, either. One had been there when he woke up. It remained there when he took a shower. It didn¡¯t vanish when he brushed his teeth, either. Even after spitting a mouthful of water at it, it didn¡¯t magically disappear, the frothy spray passing through it and splashing all over his mirror and back onto his face. Oddly enough, it did seem to jump back when he tried to lick it. Greg wasn¡¯t sure whether to take that as an insult or not. It did finally disappear when he prodded it with his toothbrush, so that was something. Even now, as he sat at the kitchen table, all this new one did was hover in the air a few inches over his mother''s blonde head of hair, mocking him and generally being an annoying distraction from his Frosted Flakes.
Susan Veder Nurse Lv 9
Odds that I¡¯m hallucinating?Greg paused to think about it, raising a spoon of his favorite cereal to his mouth as he continued to stare at the semi-translucent words hanging in the air across the table from him.Words floating in the air that Mom can¡¯t see makes me wanna say yes but... Greg thought back to the blue screen that had greeted him in his bed when he woke up.
You have slept in your own bed. 100% HP and MP recovered. ¡°Home Sweet Home¡± Bonus applied. 15% chance of recovering from [Debilitating] wounds upon waking up.
Okay, that one had been super weird too. But at the very least, it had the decency to vanish when he poked it. Greg wrinkled his nose, slightly annoyed.Already tried poking the one above Mom¡¯s head when she sat down. All that got me was a weird look and a bunch of questions. Although in hindsight, maybe trying to excuse his actions by telling his mother he was ¡°looking for lice in her hair...uh... like a monkey!¡± was not the best idea he¡¯d ever had.No Mom, I didn¡¯t go in your medicine cabinet again. It¡¯s like she thinks I¡¯m five or something.With a mental shrug, Greg glanced around the kitchen, not noticing anything out of the ordinary apart from some terrible wall art someone had gifted his Mom with recently.Okay, no dancing technicolor elephants. I might not have lost all my SAN points just yet. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! So, if I¡¯m not crazy,Greg¡¯s gaze flicked back to the glowing blue lettering,then how do I explain you? Unless this is some sort of cosmic prank or something... After a moment, Greg blinked, dropping the spoon back into the bowl as his eyes widened.This a prank, isn¡¯t it? Of course, that makes perfect sense. I¡¯m being pranked¡­ by a cape!His eyes widened further as he pieced together the game-like quality of the pop-ups and which cape would - or could - go to that extent for a prank.It¡¯s Uber & Leet. It¡¯s Uber & Leet! Blue eyes lit up with barely-repressed glee as Greg forced himself not to let out a happy squeal. As a long-time watcher of theweb show and periodical editor of thetwo video-game themed villain''s PHO wiki page, Greg was naturally a huge fan of the gaming and pop-culture themed cape duo.Oh my God, this is the best day ever! After taking several excited breaths, Greg managed to calm himself down, eyes lowering somewhat as his mouth curled upwards into a self-congratulatory grin. ¡°Okay, come on out, guys!¡± Greg shouted out. "Joke¡¯s over! Love the idea, by the way.¡± ¡°Greg, sweetheart, who are you talking to?¡± Greg snapped back to reality, suddenly aware that this might not be a prank at all and that his mom was still in the kitchen, sittingright in front of him. ¡°...Uhh, nothing, Mom. Just practicing for Drama club.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± His mother frowned slightly, a few strands of blonde hair falling into her face as she cocked her head to the side to fix him with a curious stare. ¡°You¡¯re in Drama?¡± ¡°...no.¡± Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously, pinning him to his seat. "I-I mean, no... Wait, Drama, yes! I m-meant, yes! Yes!" Greg mentally slapped himself as he finished stumbling through the sentence, his mom¡¯s expression already flashing between confused, annoyed and suspicious.The worst combination. Raising his arms in a weak shrug, he gave his mom a sheepish expression and tried again. "...no?" ¡°Greg Lucas Veder," his mom paused, her eyes still pinning him to his seat with the glare all moms seemed to perfect, "what have I said about lies in this house?¡± ¡°Aww, M-mom, it¡¯s not¡­¡± his voice was already cracking as he tried to explain away the weirdness of the last thirty seconds. ¡°I swear to God, Gregory,¡± Mom didn¡¯t let him finish, finger raised and pointing right in his nose. ¡°If you lie again, no games for a week.¡± Greg sunk down in his seat, a groan on his lips. Crap on a cracker. Tutorial 1.2 Tutorial 1.2 He had avoided a grounding. How? Greg really wasn¡¯t sure, to be honest. He would like to say that it was most likely his well-reasoned arguments about how being punished for a little white lie was cruel and unusual. It was nice to think that his logical points had spoken to his mother and gotten her to realize how unfair she was being. However, it was most likely due to the fact that his mother didn¡¯t like to see him cry. Not that he did. Cry, that is. No, Greg Veder does not cry. He begs.
¡°Please, mommy, don¡¯t take my games.¡± ¡°Greg¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry for fibbing. It was a joke. Pleeeeease.¡± ¡°Greg.¡± ¡°Mom, it¡¯s not fair. You can¡¯t do this. I wasn¡¯t lying. I was just joking around, Mom.¡± ¡°Gre-¡± ¡°Pleeeeeeeeeease.¡± ¡°Gregory!¡± As she barked his name, Greg flinched and relaxed his grip on his mom¡¯s mid-section, pulling back from the one-sided hug. As he stepped away from his mother, he gave her his best smile, the visual spoiled by the wetness all over his face. ¡°Yeah, mom?¡± Susan Veder let out a deep sigh, the sound coming from a place of deep frustration. A hand went down to her scrubs to brush off some imaginary dirt before she raised her head again to fix Greg with a tired stare. ¡°Just keep your games, Greg.¡± Greg lit up, his downtrodden expression replaced with a bright grin in an instant. ¡°Thanks, mom!¡± Greg moved in for another hug, only for his mom to stop his forward movement with a palm to his forehead. ¡°Greg, just...." Susan let out another sighh. "Enough with the hugs, sweetie. Just... go do something. I¡¯ll see you when I get home.¡±
Ugh, that was close. Greg let out a heavy sigh as he collapsed backwards onto his computer chair, the old thing creaking slightly as he dropped all one hundred and thirty-five pounds of himself onto it. Almost got grounded ¡®cause I couldn¡¯t keep my mouth shut. That¡¯s nothing new, though. Greg scrunched up his face as he thought back to all the times his mouth had gotten him in hot water. At least, I got out of it this time.He paused, leaning back in his chair as his face turned down into a frown. Still, this one wasn¡¯t even my fault. Greg spun around in his chair, turning to face his unmade bed as he dropped his chin to rest it on a raised palm. ¡°And I still don¡¯t even know what the frick that screen thingy was. Seriously, what was that thing?¡±
Quest Created What the Frick? Details: Find out ¡°what the frick that screen thingy is¡± by saying [Menu]. Time Limit: 24 Hours Success: 200 xp Failure: None
Another one. Greg leaned forward in his chair, his jaw slowly falling open as he read this new pop-up. Neurons fired off in his head as realization slowly dawned on him as to what this could be. Swallowing a mouthful of nothing, Greg let out a slow, shaky breath. ¡°H-h-ho... my God.¡± Does this mean what I think it means? As carefully as he could, Greg raised a finger to poke the blue screen, the sensation feeling somewhat like a thin plastic film on his finger before it vanished a moment later. I think this means what I think it means. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Greg let out another uncertain breath, picking himself up from his seat slowly. His eyes were wary, but even then, he couldn¡¯t suppress the eagerness that he was radiating. I swear to God, if I find out this is a prank, someone is going to die. Shaking in raw excitement, Greg Veder let himself say the word. ¡°Menu.¡± Greg rapidly inhaled as a screen popped into existence right in front of him, the words in front of him sending a feeling of raw excitement through him.
Stats Abilities Skills Perks Inventory Quests
¡°Holy...¡±
Quest "What The Frick" Success! Gained 200 xp Level Up! You are now Level 2. You gained 2 stat points.
¡°...crap on a cracker.¡± Jaw still hanging open, Greg raised a hand to rub at his eyes to make sure he was actually seeing this. ¡°Please don¡¯t be a prank. Please... don¡¯t.¡± The whispered words were both eager and desperate, Greg¡¯s blue eyes widening as he continued to read each of the words in turn. ¡°St¡­ stats,¡± Greg muttered, voice suddenly dry.
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 2 Experience 0/500
Health 80/80
Mana 50/50
Willpower 30/30
STR? 2 SPD 3
VIT 2 INT 6
WIS 5(-80%) CHA 1(+9)(-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Ctd...
¡°...uh-huh.¡± Greg blinked. After a moment, Greg blinked again, his head moving backwards slowly before dropping back down to stare at his hands. "...uh-huh." Without even looking behind him, he sat back down in his chair with uncharacteristic listlessness, the blue stat screen moving along with him. Thoughts and ideas rushed through his mind, each and every one of them related to the revelation that he had just experienced. After a few long moments, Greg glanced back up to stare directly into the screen again. As he tilted his head, a gleam of excitement was visible in his eye and his mouth flashed into a grin. ¡°God exists and he¡¯s a huge nerd.¡± Tutorial 1.3 Tutorial 1.3 Still running off the high that finding out he had powers had left him with, Greg continued to pore over his stat screen, interested in learning everything he could.
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level?? 2 Experience 0/500
Health 80/80
Mana 50/50
Willpower 30/30
STR 2 SPD 3
VIT 2 INT 6
WIS 5 (-80%) CHA 1 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Ctd...
¡°I mean,¡± Greg began, raising an eyebrow as he reread his stats for the fourth time, ¡°I know I¡¯m only level two but what kind of stats are these? I mean, my HP looks like it¡¯s¡­ decent, I guess.¡± 80 for a level 2, though? Talk about an arbitrary number. Why not start off with 100 HP at level 1? Whoever designed this needs to go back to the drawing board? ¡°Wait,¡± Greg blinked, raising a finger to his chin. ¡°It¡¯s my power, right? So¡­ did my unconscious design this?" He mulled the thought over for a bit before shaking his head. "Ughh, that¡¯s just weird.¡± Greg shuddered, ¡°I really don¡¯t want to think about that. ¡± Stepping back from the screen, Greg turned his gaze down to his left hand. ¡°Let¡¯s just test this HP thing out.¡± Letting out a quick breath, he curled his fingers into a tight fist. Alright. Let''s do this! Before he could chicken out, Greg drove his fist into the side of his face as hard as he could. -2 A starburst of pain erupted in his left cheek, right above his jawline where his fist had collided with his face. ¡°Motherf-! ...huh.¡± As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished, leaving Greg cradling his jaw for no reason. ¡°Cool! No pain¡­ less pain?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Still cool. Uhhh... sta- wait, do I have to say stats every time? Can I just say [HP]?¡± In response to his words, a smaller screen appeared.
Health: 78/80
¡°W-wait? Two damage from one punch?¡± Greg whined, poking at his fist as if seeing it for the first time. He glanced at the mirror, marvelling open-mouthed at the fact that he didn¡¯t even have a bruise marking his face. Not even a hint of soreness or tenderness on his face, either. ¡°That¡¯s super weak¡­ right?¡± Wait, if I only did 2 damage with a punch, is my body strong or am I just too weak to hurt myself? The blond frowned at his reflection, his eyes narrowing in thoughtful confusion. "Question for later." This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.In a small blink of blue, the HP screen vanished to be replaced with a larger, wider one.
New Ability Gained! Blunt Force Resistance Punching yourself in the face can actually be useful. Who knew?
¡°I can make skills?¡± Greg froze, eyes going wide as he began to process this new bit of info. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sooooo going to abuse the crap out of this,¡± Greg added, his head bobbing up and down excitedly.
Quest Created! Abuse the Crap out of This. Details: Create at least three new skills within the time limit. Time Limit: 12 Hours Success: 600 xp Failure: None
¡°You know, I swear these game powers are making it way too easy. I might not even have to bother min-maxing.¡± After a moment, Greg burst out laughing, clutching a hand to his stomach at his own joke. ¡°Yeah, right. OP-ness, here I come!" He pumped his fist in the air and grinned, only to pause a moment later as a thoughtful look spread across his face. "But first, let¡¯s get back to that stat screen again. [Stats.]¡± The blue box appeared once more, laying out all his information for him to look over. As he looked over his status screen again, Greg¡¯s eyes fell all the way to the bottom, towards something he hadn¡¯t paid much attention to before, with his attention too focused on his - stupidly low - numbers and what they meant. ¡°The frick is this stat? C. T. D? Cat D. Ketid? And why is there an ellipsis there?¡± ¡°C. T. D? CTD?¡± Greg blinked for a moment and leaned in, to get a closer glance at the box. Sighing, he brought a palm to his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m so stupid. It''s continued.¡± Poking the shortened word, Greg blinked again, a frown spreading across his face as he read over the new box of text. ¡°...crap on a cracker.¡±
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA)
Greg stared at the newest screen in front of him, his mouth turned downwards into an impressive frown. His hand came down on the blue box with an open palm, literally slapping the screen away. As it vanished, Greg let out an angry sigh, turning a pissed-off gaze towards his computer. ¡°...okay. Now, I¡¯m mad for multiple reasons.¡± Tutorial 1.4 Tutorial 1.4 Greg fell face-forward, his body hitting the ground in a heap of pale skin and lanky limbs. "...ow." As he lay there, lying face-first in the untrimmed grass of his backyard, Greg began to ruminate over everything he had learned over the last three hours. First, he could earn stat points through actual training. He had learned that after punching a tree who knew how many times in row trying to create some sort of super punching skill. It maybe also have been a way to work out his anger after seeing those crap-tastic Stat Modifiers. Just maybe. Either way, he was willing to grind to kickstart his path to greatness. Any true gamer would, of course. Anyway, after about three hours of strenuous effort, all he had to show for it was twenty-five lost health points, seven levels on [Blunt Force Resistance] and 1 brand-spanking new VIT point. Secondly, each new VIT point made his HP go up by 10 and his Will go up by 3. Greg could only imagine the same thing applied for his MP. So, either INT or WIS controlled that, most likely. Thirdly, just because actual pain went away really quick, it didn''t mean he couldn''t get tired. Apparently, one of his stats, Will, measured his level of tiredness or something. Right now, that was sitting at a big fat zero. It took almost ten minutes for his Will to regenerate all the way back to full, which sucked so hard. For Greg, that basically meant ten minutes of sitting around and waiting until his entire body didn''t feel like crap. Last but certainly not least, skills were super-duper hard to make. Like, harder than the first boss of Ninja Gaiden hard. Greg lifted his head and let out another small moan, pausing at the end to announce, "[Skills.]"
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional trauma and severely damaging emotional states. Observe Lv 1 (XP: 50%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 1 (XP: 20%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Cost: 1 Will every ten seconds.
"Who designed this RPG system?" Greg moaned, still face-down in grass. "It couldn''t be me because my subconscious cannot be this much of a butthole!" Scratch that. This was harder than a level of Demon''s Souls. Why, you ask? Why did Greg think that making a skill was so impossibly frustrating? It was because after three hours of effort, - three long, painful hours - Greg had managed to managed to make two new skills. The [Observe] skill and the [Power Sprint] skill, both created in the first few minutes. Apparently, looking at a bug and wondering what it''s species was enough for this stupid system to fart out a skill. Running away in fright when that same bug tried to hop onto his face was worth a skill, too, for some odd reason. However, working his butt off for a couple hours was not skill-worthy! Greg groaned again, his voice gaining more energy as the drain on his muscles began to lessen. Greg let out a relieved sigh, his recovery a sign that at least one of his stats was recovering. "[Will]."
Willpower: 15/33
"Three minutes down here and we''re still at 15. What is that, like 5 points a minute? That''s some crap regen," Greg muttered. "The frick is willpower, anyway? Ughhh," Greg spat out blades of grass from his mouth as he lifted his head, pushing himself off from the ground in a meager display of a pushup. "What kind of system is this?" He had tried to make telekinesis. For ten long, embarrassing minutes, Greg had held a hand to his head like Professor X while his other limb made gestures at a tiny rock. All for nothing. He had tried to use energy blasts. Nada. Super-speed. Nope. Even a skill to do something as simple as jump higher hadn''t worked, leaving him doing jumping jacks for a good twenty minutes like an idiot. None of them worked, despite what he tried and it was getting on his fricking nerves. Why would his powers make him an RPG character if there was no way for him to actually achieve unlimited power? Pulling himself to his feet, Greg focused his eyes on the tree he had spent the last hour pummeling. This isn''t fair. Stepping closer to it, he brought his fists up again. This is not fair. Why won''t this work? What do I have to do? This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. His face began to redden as Greg worked himself into a mood, angry thoughts bouncing around his head. "Why won''t you work?" Running forward, Greg threw a wild swing, slamming his fist into the thick tree with all his might. To his surprise, his fist glowed yellow as it struck the tree like a hammer. His eyes grew wider as slivers of bark basically exploded from the point of impact, flying back into his face as nothing more than wood chips.
New Skill Gained! Angry Straight Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 24 Cost: 4 Will
Quest Success! Gained 600 xp Level Up! You are now Level 3. You gained 2 stat points.
Greg gaped at his unhurt fist, before turning back to face the tree. Blue eyes went back and forth between the damaged tree and his hand several times before the blond boy threw both of his hands in the air, letting out a frustrated scream as he did so. "What!? How!?" When no floating box appeared to explain this phenomenon to Greg, the teenager let out another frustrated groan. "Why did it work this time? This system sucks!" Then, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them, he sent a frown at his fist. "At least I got one combat skill, right?" After a moment, Greg nodded slightly, happy that he had gotten at least one thing right. "Although, I don''t really want to risk getting up close to bad guys that much."
Quest Qreated! First Blood Details: Defeat 1 criminal. Time Limit: 24 Hours. Success: 1,500 xp Failure: None Bonus Objective: Defeat 2 criminals.
"What the heck?" Greg''s blue eyes widened as he took a step back in pure shock. "I''m only level 3. I can''t fight criminals yet." Greg let out a groan, his hands clutching his hair in frustration. "It''s like this system hates me or something!"
After coming to an important realization, your WIS has increased by 1.
"...oh, haha." Spoiler:STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age:15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 3 Experience 100/1800
Health 100/100
Mana 60/60
Willpower 36/36
STR 2 SPD 3
VIT 3 INT 6
WIS 5(-80%) CHA 1 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points:4
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid:Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion.(50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder:Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said?(-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline:As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time.(+9 CHA)
Tutorial 1.5 Tutorial 1.5 "Huh, let''s try this one out. [Observe]."
Oxford Dress Shoes [English Gentleman] Be well dressed, behave like a gentleman, and keep your shoes shined. + 3 to [Ballroom Dance] ability + 3 to [Tact] ability + 2 to [Tea Preparation] ability + 1 to CHA Completing the [English Gentleman]outfit set gives an additional +2 to CHA. Durability: 92/100
Greg let out an annoyed groan, shoulders slumping as he tossed the pair of shoes over his shoulder without even looking. It landed with a clattering noise on the other side of the garage, landing near a pile of other rejected items. "Okay, that was another bust," Greg muttered, running a hand through his bowl cut. It had been a while since he left the backyard. Slamming his fists against the tree had started getting boring after the leveling of his [Angry Straight] began moving at a crawl. Gaining three extra levels wasn''t bad, though. The constant notification in the corner of his vision of his HP dropping every time he forgot to say the skill name did start to get annoying, though. Anyway, Greg had been in his current position for a good thirty minutes, on his knees in the garage searching through storage boxes for some useful stuff to equip. After making up his mind to go on a mob hunt, Greg had decided to find something to give him an edge. After all, if he was an RPG character, he needed battle equipment, right? You''d think so, at least. All of this is random crap. Boosts to ballroom dancing? Hockey? Swimming? It was a little annoying that after all of this work, he had barely found anything useful, with only three items giving him any sort of combat-related boost. Greg needed some more clothes that would give him something combat related because he had no intention of using up his extra stat points until he was at least level five, with at least eight points in reserve. I want to fight some guy, not beat him in a dance-off or a triathlon. Shaking his head, Greg turned his attention back to the massive set of boxes in front of him with various words written on the side of each. "Why did Mom even buy this stuff? I never even got into any of these clubs." Rolling his eyes, he thrust a hand into the box closest to him, his other hand pushing random items to the side as he continued to search the storage container. He let out a sigh as more miscellaneous items spilling out as he did so. "And Mom told me she organized all this last month. How am I supposed to find anything when she doesn''t clean up?" Greg continued rooting around in the box, barely noting the various items he pulled out. "Huh, what''s this... ewwww?" Hanging from his fingers like a used napkin were a pair of purple leg warmers, obviously not brand new. Greg grimaced at the items for a few seconds before his curiosity got the better of him. "Uhhh¡­ [Observe.]"
80s Leg Warmers (Used) Mom used to always talk about what she wore when she was in high school. She always talked about how Dad loved her special pair of leg warmers, too. Unlocks the [Flexibility] ability if not unlocked already. + 2 to [Yoga] ability + 1 to [Ballet] ability Durability: 62/100
Greg stuck his tongue out as he finished reading the box, dropping the pair of used leg warmers with a disgusted shudder as his mind went wrong places with the [Flexibility] skill and his mother. "...I''m never sleeping again." Forcing down the bit of bile he could feel creeping up his throat, Greg turned back to his search, albeit with much less enthusiasm than before. After a few minutes more, he grinned as his fingers grabbed hold of two very familiar items. Pulling them out with a victorious grin, Greg let out a self-satisfied chuckle. "Observe."
Cheap Kickboxing Gloves - Fingerless [Kickboxing Rookie] A fighter takes a punch, hits back with three punches. Unlocks the [Basic Fighting] ability if not unlocked already. + 1 to [Basic Fighting] + 1 to all physical combat skills/abilities. Completing the [Kickboxing Rookie] outfit set gives an additional +1 to all physical combat skills/abilities. Durability: 99/100 Cheap Kickboxing Shoes - Toeless [Kickboxing Rookie] When it comes to kicking ass, the phrase should not be taken literally. Unlocks the [Basic Footwork] skill if not unlocked already. + 1 to [Basic Footwork] + 1 to all physical combat skills/abilities. Completing the [Kickboxing Rookie] outfit set gives an additional +1 to all physical combat skills/abilities. Durability: 99/100
"Awesome!'' Greg let out an excited cheer, finally finding something useful to add to the rest of his equipment, as well as the two ready-made skills that came with it. "Man, it''s been a long time since I wore these bad boys. Better late than never. [Equip.]" The black gloves and shoes vanished in a blink of blue light and appeared on Greg''s body, his current shoes disappearing off his feet in place of the kickboxing shoes.
New Abilities Gained! Basic Fighting The best fighter is not a Boxer, Karate or Judo man. The best fighter is someone who can adapt to any style. Basic Fighting involves the understanding of proper stances as well as the correct way to throw and block a kick or punch. Basic Footwork Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face. Basic Footwork involves keeping your balance and controlling your positioning during a fight.
"Whoa, this is awe- uggggghh," Greg raised a gloved hand to his forehead as a sudden burst of information suddenly rushed into his head. Information like how to make a proper fist, how to throw a correct cross, how to move quickly on his feet, etc. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. He shook his head, blinking rapidly. "That was just plain weird," Greg mused to himself as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. The sensation hadn''t hurt, not really. It had just been uncomfortable and¡­ weird. It was basically the mental equivalent of getting slapped in the face with a fish. "At least, I got some new skills," Greg crowed, a smile on his face. Curling his hands into fists, Greg struck a karate pose to test out his new knowledge, his body instinctively correcting his positioning and foot placement to something much more plausible to use in a fight. Greg''s smile faded a little at the sudden shift in his body, weirded out by how he hadn''t really meant to move that way. "Huh¡­ that''s really gonna take some getting used to." Glancing down at his new equipment, Greg shrugged off the weirdness, deciding on a whim to try out a new trick he had discovered about half an hour ago. "[Send to Inventory.]" His newly equipped-items vanished in another tiny flash of blue, leaving his feet and hands bare. As soon as the items vanished, Greg shook his head again, suddenly feeling somewhat more awkward in his own body. He moved into a fighting stance again and frowned as he felt a bit less steady on his feet this time, his fists a bit less firm. Greg frowned, pursing his lips. "...weird. [Inventory!]" Two separate boxes appeared in front of Greg, one with a somewhat three-dimensional image of him with his arms and legs spread out like that Leonardo da Vinci sketch. The Vesuvian man? Greg shrugged, not really caring that much. Yeah, something like that. The second box was a simple grid with five of the boxes already filled up. "Looking good, me." Greg snapped his fingers at the image of himself that simply stared forward blankly. Shaking his head again, Greg pulled himself to his feet, a slight smile on his face. "Okay, just gotta take care of one more thing before it''s time to go kick some butt." His eyes roamed the garage until they landed on what he was looking for. Grimacing, he let out a sigh. "Let''s go get this over with." - o - o- o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o - "Ow!" -5 "...ow!" -5 "...ow!" -7 "...shi-ow!" -5 "...ow!" -9 "...shit! Shit! Shit! Ow!" Hissing in pain, Greg waited for the throbbing sensation to dissipate one more time before he raised the object in his hand high. His other hand remained where it was, splayed out flat as it rested on top of the garage workbench. A part of Greg felt like this wasn''t worth it. The other part didn''t care. Winding back his arm, Greg Veder literally brought the hammer down, the head slamming into his wrist with all the force he could muster. -12 [Critical Hit!] "Motherf-! Goddamn it!" Cradling his wrist, Greg held back tears, waiting for the pain in his hand to fade. Eyes closed, Greg began to groan as he rocked back and forth on the stool he was sitting on, insulting himself in his head for this stupid idea. He was so caught up in cursing his own dumb idea, he barely heard a soft ''ping!'' In fact, he didn''t hear it until it repeated a second time. Greg opened his eyes, all his pain forgotten as a bright grin spread across his face.
Ability Level Up x 2 Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 10 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 8% from attacks less than 100% of your health.
Through enduring physical punishment, your VIT has increased by 1.
"Worth it." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 3 Experience 100/1800
Health 110/110
Mana 60/60
Willpower 39/39
STR 2 SPD 3
VIT 4 INT 6
WIS 5(-80%) CHA 1 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 4
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Tutorial 1.6 Tutorial 1.6 "Hey, Fingers, you seeing this?" Dexter "Fingers" Clark glanced up from where he sat, slumped against an alley wall, and looked in the direction his friend, Knives, was gesturing in. The sight was enough to make him raise an eyebrow. Fingers had seen his fair share of odd-looking figures. It kind of came standard once you became a Merchant. You saw weird shit all the time. Sometimes, it was cape shit. Capes were always a little bit off. Everyone knew that. Sometimes, it was just regular people being weird as fuck. In this case, it seemed more like the second. As Fingers spotted the person walking towards them, he was already suspicious. This side of the Trainyard belonged to a few specific types of individual. Namely, the homeless, drug addicts and gang members. Unsurprisingly, members of the Archer''s Bridge Merchants were usually all three. It was well understood that people in this part of Brockton Bay had certain common identifiers. No one that clean and in clothes that new was in this part of town because they belonged here, no matter how weird they looked. Fingers snorted. "Yeah, I''m seeing this. It ain''t just you." "Whaddya think it wants?" "It''s a he, Knives." "The fuck I care? I want his hoodie." Knives punctuated his sentence by spitting up a thick wad of phlegm right at Fingers'' feet, causing the larger man to send his partner a dirty look. "And his pants too." "I mean, he doesn''t look like your size," Fingers muttered, pulling himself to his feet. "Probably outweighs you too." "You think I wanna wear that GAP-looking shit?" Knives shot back, baring stained and dirty teeth in an annoyed grimace. Fingers snorted at Knives attempt to look threatening, fixing the black man with a glare of his own. "You got on a ratty-ass wife-beater that stinks like shit. those jeans are dirty as fuck and your shoes are torn all to hell. You need clothes more than I do." It wasn''t even an exaggeration. What they both had on, ratty and stained as it was, was par for the course when it came to most of the Merchants. Oversized, or undersized, stained or mismatched, it didn''t really matter. They wore what they could. "Who the fuck asked your horse-looking ass?" The tiny man raised a hand to scratch at his patchy beard, clearing his throat roughly as he did so. "Fuck it, I say we find out what this fuck wants, then we jump his ass, take his wallet and sell the rest of his shit." Fingers shrugged, uncaring. "Sure, why not?" It''s not like he was the type to turn down a chance to make money. The bundled-up figure walked closer to the two Merchants, allowing Fingers to get a good look at him. With him wearing a hoodie, a pair of goggles, and a scarf over his face, not to mention the odd gloves, shoes and sports pads he had on, it was hard to tell what the person actually looked like. For a moment, Fingers was wary. The thought that this could be some new cape looking to pick a fight flashed through his mind and his fingers clenched into a fist. *...uh, Hey." With dawning surprise, Fingers realized that the figure huddled up in these clothes was a kid. Then, the kid spoke again. "Uhhh¡­ um, do¡­" Fingers raised an eyebrow at the cracking voice, expression growing more incredulous as he saw the kid''s hands tapping at his sides in a nervous tic. "Do¡­ do you guys know where I can¡­ uhh¡­ get some¡­ uhhh¡­ get some... some drugs?" The last word came out in a conspiratorial whisper, the boy leaning in slightly as if anyone in the Trainyards would bother listening in. Fingers snorted again, turning his head down to laugh into the back of his hand. "Fuckin'' first-timers, man," the gang member muttered to himself, wiping his nose with wrist. The tattooed man shot a glance over at Knives, raising an eyebrow at the way the tattooed man eyed the boy in front of them. He could tell his friend was getting ready to pounce, just by the way his thin fingers trailed over his switchblade as if petting a small animal. Putting a hand on his partner''s shoulder to get his attention, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, giving Knives a signal to hang back while he did business. Knives shot him a dark look, his eyes flicking back to the kid for a second, before finally nodding and turning the corner, stepping deeper into the alley. Shaking his head, Fingers turned back to the kid, flashing the twitchy-looking brat his nicest smile before he got it in his head to run away. He leaned forward, still smiling as warmly as he could. "So, kid, what are you loo-" "[Angry Straight!]" Before Fingers could finish the sentence, a gloved fist slammed into his stomach. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Dexter "Fingers" Clark Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie) HP: 90/120 Greg blinked in surprise as he watched the gangster''s HP fall. 30 points! Awesome! After equipping a thick hoodie that granted him an extra ten HP, a pair of sports goggles that unlocked his [Reflexes] ability, and a scarf that gave him +2 to [Feinting], all in addition to his kickboxing equipment, he had decided to go hunting for a bad guy to punch. Setting out towards the Trainyards was a great idea for anyone looking to get into trouble and a perfect place to beat up some gang members. Once the system has confirmed his great idea by granting him a free WIS point, Greg was dead set on heading down there. Setting out to the Trainyards around three o''clock in the afternoon was less of a great idea, considering Merchants tended to be nocturnal creatures. Despite all that, after walking around the Trainyards for a bit, it didn''t take Greg all that long to find a couple of them. After confirming with his [Observe] that these were actually Merchants, and not just two guys down on their luck, Greg struck. Specifically, with his [Angry Straight]. The man stumbled back, a look of pained shock on his face as he clutched his stomach. Greg brought his fists up, ready to react if he moved at him. Yeesh, I thought that would at least knock him down! The taller, lankier man didn''t fall, instead collapsing back against a wall with an audible groan. His friend, the smaller man barely up to Greg''s shoulder, rushed out of the alley. His eyes flickered to his fallen partner before those same twitchy, bloodshot eyes darted over to Greg. In a burst of motion, he lashed out, a visible glint in his right hand. Greg recoiled in pain, hissing as he felt something slash the arm of his hoodie. Despite the heavy blend hoodie supposedly granting him +10 to health, that extra ten points didn''t seem all that useful right now. He bit down another shout as the man lunged forward again, the tip of the blade jabbing him in the stomach. -8 hp -12 hp
[Light Bleeding] Debuff applied 1 HP every five seconds for the next minute.
Greg''s eyes widened as he felt the familiar warm, sticky sensation of blood as it hit his skin. The teen scrambled backwards, screaming out "Power Sprint!" at the top of his lungs. In a burst of yellow, he ran back a few meters, surprising the short man in front of him with both the surge of speed and the flash of light. "Knives" Freeman Lv 6 Merchant Slasher (Junkie) HP: 170/170 Crap! Crap! Crap! Greg''s face paled. I don''t have enough Will to Angry Strike them both to zero. "You little shit! Fuck you think this is?" Knives rushed forward again, cursing up a storm as he bared his rotten teeth at Greg. "I''ll fucking cut you! I''ll rip your fucking guts out!" Greg dodged the first lunge, but let out a small shout as the second managed to scrape his side. -5 hp His breathing coming rapid and quick, Greg jumped back and shouted out "[Inventory: Hammer!]" Said hammer flew from Greg''s hand, appearing out of nowhere, straight toward the head of the Merchant. Simply out of raw luck, the man dodged, his head whipping to the side as the heavy tool rushed by his unprotected cranium. Greg winced as his attack missed. Crap on a cracker. I mean, I didn''t think that would even work but still¡­ crap. Why did I only bring one? The gangster whipped back to Greg, surprise and a hint of fear mixing in with his anger. "What the fuck? The fuck is this shit?" Greg didn''t waste a single moment to even glance at the pop-ups. "[Power Sprint!] [Angry Straight!]" His body and fist glowing a bright yellow, Greg rushed forward. Enhanced by his momentum, his hand plowed into the man''s chest, knocking him back with a powerful blow. "Knives" Freeman HP: 120/170 Knives bared his teeth and grunted as the hit rocked him, the tiny man powering through the strike with a rabid fury. With a snarl, he lunged forward again, swinging wildly at Greg with his switchblade. Greg''s wrist snapped up, the back of his hand catching the underside of the gangster''s wrist and striking it downwards. The black man''s eyes widened as his knife fell from his grip and clattered down the street. Breathing heavily, Greg didn''t let up, driving his fist into the man''s face and doing the same with his other before screaming out, "[Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!] [Angry Straight!]" His fist glowed as he continued striking the man, interspersing regular hits in between his uses of [Angry Straight] and pummeling the man with a blistering six-hit combo. A heavy sensation began to crawl up Greg''s muscles and his eyes widened. Stepping back from the gangster, Greg shouted out "[Power Sprint!] [Inventory: Gatorade!]" As he ran a few feet away, a bottle of the flavored water appeared in his hand. Twisting off the gap, Greg gulped the drink down, not even bothering to avoid spilling any on his clothes. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
Gatorade - Blue Raspberry + 20 Will + 2 to Will/HP regen for the next five minutes.
Greg let out an audible sigh as he literally felt the energy returning to his muscles, a big burst of energy followed by smaller trickles. "What the hell?" The unarmed criminal barked out, eyes wide with confusion at what just happened. "Forget you saw that! [Angry Straight!]" Greg struck out with a wild swing, plunging his fist into the man''s stomach with a yell. "Knives" Freeman (K.O.) HP: 0/160
+ 150 XP + $19.50 + [Bloody Switchblade]
Greg blinked, his breathing still heavy as he stared at the fallen thug. The tiny man lay slumped on the ground, bruising already visible on his face.. "Is he done?" Greg voiced aloud, while in his head, he couldn''t help but wonder, Is he dead? Tentatively, he stretched his foot out, poking the Merchant with the tip of his toe. As Greg''s foot touched the man''s side, he let out a groan, the sound nearly causing Greg to jump out of his skin. The teenager held his breath. 1¡­ 2¡­ 3¡­ The Merchant didn''t move. "Yes!" Greg''s hands went up in the air, his fingers on both hands forming into a "v". "I beat my first bad guy! Operation: Unlimited Power is a go!" With a relieved sigh, the teenager glanced back down at the unconscious thug, simply giving a shrug at the sight. Someone''ll find him. It''s not like he''s dead or anything. As he turned around to head back home, Greg suddenly stopped after he realized that he hadn''t received either a quest notification or a level up notification. But I beat the b- Something slammed into him from behind, hard and heavy. Greg stumbled forward and fell to his hands and knees, his head feeling like someone had taken a bat to it. -30 hp Greg coughed and sputtered as his hands and knees hit the ground, rolling to the side on instinct. To his right, a hammer hit the ground, cracking the concrete as the curved end hit the building material. My hammer? Shocked, Greg scrambled back on his hands and knees, glancing up to see the person holding the hammer. Dexter "Fingers" Clark Lv 4 Merchant Gofer (Junkie) HP: 91/120 The guy I hit before? How''d he get my hammer? Greg thought, confusion visible on his face. A moment later, he remembered what he had used it for. "Oh¡­ oh yeah, that was a dumb idea." Fingers stared at him with manic eyes, more tired than bloodshot, and raised the hammer again. Greg acted without thinking and jumped forwards, pouncing on the merchant. His hand snapped out, grabbing the junkie''s emaciated wrist and squeezing as tightly as he could. "Sorry, but this¡­ this is mine." With a twist, he wrenched the hammer from the junkie, slamming an elbow into the man''s throat at the same time, his legs straddling the man''s torso. "You shouldn''t steal!" "Taking people''s stuff is wrong!" Greg brought the hammer down. The thug jerked, lunging at Greg with a curse on his lips. Greg did it again. And again. And again. And again. Breathing heavy as the junkie lay still beneath him, Greg let out a relieved sigh. "At least that''s finally over."
+ 100 XP + $12.00
Quest Success! Gained 1500 xp Bonus Objective Completed: + 1 stat point, 1 STR Level Up! You are now Level 4. You gained 2 stat points.
Basic Fighting: Lvl Up!1¡ú2 Footwork: Lvl Up!1¡ú2
New Abilities Gained! Resistance: Slashing The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Piercing The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Thrown Weapons Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t.Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (2%) Brawling [Basic Fighting] variant I''m whatcha call a street fighter, a knuckle brawler. Disarm Take their weapon from their warm, living hands.Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (2%) Parry Lv 2 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same.Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (4%)
New Skills Gained! Dash Straight Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Raging Combo A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies.By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits)
"Niiice." Smiling widely as he stood up, Greg wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with his free hand. Tossing the hammer up into the air, he caught it again, noting with slight interest how much easier that was to pull off than when he tried it at home. Shaking his head, he intoned, "[Send to Inventory.]" The hammer vanished, leaving both of Greg''s hands free and allowing him to wipe his blood-covered hands on his black jeans. "Uggh, is this mine or theirs?" Glancing back at the two fallen thugs, Greg couldn''t hide the smile on his face. He had done this, all by himself. Taking down two grown men in about five minutes wasn''t something a lot of kids his age could say. Unless you''re the Wards, Greg admitted to himself. Those guys can probably say that all the time. "This win kinda feels empty, ya know? You know what this moment needs?" Greg nodded to himself as he began to walk back the way he came from. "Some victory music. Not like theme music, more like a BGM to play after I win a fight or something. Don''t I have an options menu to set that in or something?" Greg mulled over it, his head already nodding along to the victory music he had chosen in his head. "Eh, I''ll check when I get home." Leaving behind two bleeding and unconscious bodies unattended in the worst part of town, Greg Veder began to make his way home with a smile on his face and a song in his heart. Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 3 Experience 100/1800
Health 120/120
Mana 60/60
Willpower 39/39
STR 3 SPD 3
VIT 4 INT 6
WIS 5(-80%) CHA 1 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Grind 2.1 Grind 2.1 "[Observe.]"
Micah Toomes Student Lvl 2 Boring kid. Nothing to really see here. Super snooze-fest of a person, really. Likes the oboe. What kind of a weirdo actually likes the oboe?
Repressing a snort, Greg turned his head slightly, locking his gaze on the girl a few seats across from Micah. "[Observe.]"
Janet Barry Student - Cheerleader Lvl 2 Huge boobs. Real annoying voice, though. Called you a "mucho creepazoid" in Freshman year after you asked her to Homecoming. Kind of a bitch. Has a crush on Empire wannabe, Mal Duncan.
His head lolled as he rested his chin on an upraised palm, glancing away from the busty bitch of a cheerleader before she noticed him staring. That was a situation that he didn''t want to have to deal with again. His head turned listlessly to the side and locked on another girl. Ever since his little outing yesterday afternoon, Greg had gotten only one more quest and that one almost wasn''t worth it. Only getting 75 XP for cleaning up the mess he made in the garage was kind of a letdown, but Greg didn''t let it bother him too much. Instead, he decided to spend the rest of the day grinding his stats, to mild success. However, that was when he was at home. At school, he couldn''t exactly do pushups until his body gave out to level STR (+2) and neither could he slam a pan into his face over and over to bulk up his VIT (+1). In class, there was nothing for Greg to really do as he sat here, especially considering Sparky had been suspended since last week. So, Greg simply sat there with nothing to do, barely listening to the teacher as she went over something related to the chapters of some book they were supposed to have read over the weekend. Nothing to do, except power-level his [Observe] skill, of course.
Madison Clements Student Lvl 2 Tiny and cute. If life was an anime, she''d be the loli-est loli of them all. Desperately wishes she had gotten into Arcadia High School. Terrified of Sophia Hess.
Greg raised an eyebrow at that description but didn''t pay it much thought, turning aside to someone else. "[Observe.]"
Nina Barry Student Lvl 3 The bitch''s fraternal twin. Less annoying voice. Actually kinda nice. Has a girl-crush on Glory Girl. Big cape geek. Wants to be a parahuman more than anything.
"[Observe.]"
Kyle Danning Student - Basketball Player Lvl 4 Likes pineapple pizza. Also, a weirdo. After all, he likes pineapple pizza.
Greg held back a snort. "[Observe.]"
Andy Manns Student - Chess Team Lvl 2 Some dick that acts like being on the "Chess Team" makes him better than you. Has only one ball. Is very sensitive about it.
Greg blinked, his head tilting as his gaze tilted downwards towards Andy''s waist. A moment later, he shook his head, shuddering. I really didn''t need to know that.
Observe Lvl Up! 2¡ú3
Nodding at the screen''s message, Greg glanced towards the back of the room, eyes glazing over as he spotted a familiar head of beautiful, brown hair. An earnest smile immediately leapt onto his face as she lifted her head and caught his eye, the same smile dimming slightly when she simply stared past him like he didn''t exist. Greg sighed slightly, before shrugging his shoulders at the usual behavior from her. "[Observe.]"
Taylor Anne Hebert ??? ??? Great hair. Meganekko and prime waifu material. Never really talks to you, though. Best girl.
Wait, what? Greg did a double-take, not at Taylor''s¡­ interesting description, but at the fact that her level and class were hidden behind a wall of question marks. The question marks themselves were doing a great job at drawing his attention away from the super embarrassing color commentary his [Observe] had given him. Where''s her stats? I''ve never seen anyone have question marks before. "Weird." Greg pursed his face. Maybe I need to level up [Observe] more? "Mr Veder!" Greg flinched, jerking back to attention at the sudden shout of his name. Glancing up, he spotted his English teacher glaring at him over her glasses. "Uh¡­" Greg froze as he realized that the whole class, sans Taylor, was staring at him, most of them with mocking smiles on their own faces. "Uhhh¡­ yes, Ms Gherry?" Greg gulped as the look on her face seemed to tighten. Ms Gherry was apparently in one of her moods. Most of the time the woman was distant and barely paid attention to the class except to read from a book. On other days, she was a complete battle-axe. Greg guessed her anger issues stemmed from man troubles. He also doubted her ability to keep a boyfriend when she add anger issues, causing her to keep looking for another one. A vicious cycle, really. "I was just about to go over the homework and I noticed you were busy paying attention to something else with no assignment even on your desk." The woman folded her arms over her chest, slowly walking over to Greg where he sat at the corner of the room nearest the entrance. We had an assignment? Greg winced. When she reached the front of his desk, Greg was forced to crane his head up especially high to stare at the statuesque woman. He bit his tongue, the first words on his lips almost being, "Speak louder. I cant hear you from up there." "Mr Veder, I have to ask if you did the homework I assigned?" "The¡­ the homework," Greg blinked, trying his hardest not to phrase it like a question. He glanced at the desks surrounding him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he realized everyone else had papers on their desk, either written or typed. "You''re asking me if I did it?" As Ms Gherry raised an eyebrow, Greg hurriedly answered. "Of course! Of course, I did it. It''s just¡­ I left it at home." Greg spouted the lie, doing his best to sound like he believed it.
New Ability Gained! Bullshitting First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it.
Greg did his best not to twitch or even stare at the screen that appeared over his teacher''s bust, locking his eyes directly on her face. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "Tell me, Mr Veder." Her steely eyes narrowed, and Greg found himself tilting backwards in his seat as she leaned forwards, clasping a manicured hand around the corner of his desk. "Be honest with me. Did you even do the reading of Part 1 of the Divine Comedy? The Inferno? The same reading I assigned on Thursday?" Greg could hear snickers and the sound of muttering wafting throughout the class, before Ms Gherry snapped to face the other students, quieting them down with a stare. "What? Come on, Ms Gherry," Greg scoffed, averting his eyes for a moment. "Of course I read Dante''s Divine Comedy." Greg knew very well that the book sat on top of his dresser, unopened since he brought it home. "I loved it. It was a great book. I just forgot the homework ¨C that I did do ¨C at home." You sit on a throne of lies! Ms Gherry seemed to relax slightly, unfolding her arms as she stared down at him. Greg, taking cues from her, released a breath he wasn''t aware that he had been holding and let out a relieved sigh. "You know, I was considering giving you detention for being the only one in the class not to have completed either the reading or the assignment," Ms Gherry began. "However, since you claim to have completed the assignment and read the Inferno, I''ll give you credit for both." Greg''s jaw dropped. "Really?" The teacher''s announcement was met with loud jeers from most of the class, the students vocally upset about an arrangement they considered unfair. "Quiet." Ms Gherry only had to raise her voice just slightly to shut down the noise, the iciness of her tone conveying the message well enough. "I wasn''t done speaking." Turning back to Greg, she gave him a slight smile, the facial expression making Greg tense slightly. "Now, Mr Veder, I''ll give you full credit for both assignments," she held up a finger, "on one condition." "And the penny drops," Greg muttered to himself. Ms Gherry''s smile turned cold as she stretched her arm out, gesturing toward the front of the classroom. "The condition being that you give a short presentation ¨C an oral report, to be exact ¨C on everything you wrote, the summary of part one of Dante''s Divine Comedy and what you felt it means. If you can''t do it, then you have detention¡­ for a week." Someone in the class let out a soft "Oh, damn." Wincing, Greg raised a finger. "D¡­ did you say a week?" "A week, as in seven days. Starting today and ending next week Wednesday. But all that is just a formality, really." The teacher continued smiling coldly, her eyes showing how little she meant it. "After all, you said you did the work."
Quest Created! Pull Something out of your Butt Details: Get through this presentation any way you can. Success: Increased reputation with Nicole Gherry. 500 XP. Failure: Decreased reputation with Taylor Hebert, 7-Day Detention
If you''re gonna screw me over that badly, you freaking Amazon, you might as well take me out to dinner first. Greg closed his eyes and let out a quick breath before opening them a moment later, flashing his Literature teacher his brightest grin. "No problem, teach. I can handle this." As he stood up from his desk, Greg began to plan, his mind whirring as he tried to find a way to get through this. Dante''s Divine Comedy. Dante''s Divine¡­ Comedy. Why does that name sound familiar? Where do I know this from? As Greg faced the class, he could see out of the corner of his eye that Ms Gherry was just standing up against the wall, eyes firmly on him. He opened his mouth. "Hey, guys. Umm¡­ today, I''m going to talk about Dante¡­ Dante and his Inferno." I swear to God that name sounds familiar. "Dante," Greg continued, "I mean¡­ Dante, we all know who Dante is, right?" He spread his arms out as he gestured toward his audience, receiving nothing but bored and amused faces in return. "Yes", interrupted Ms Gherry from her position on the wall, "yes, they do. They did the work. This is about your knowledge, Mr Veder." Greg laughed, his voice cracking slightly as he tried his best not to sound nervous. "Yeah, of course. I know that. Engaging with the audience is just part of a presentation, Ms Gherry."
Bullshiting Lvl Up! 1¡ú2
"Uh-huh," the teacher''s smile tightened, "Engage less. You do realize, that when you get detention, I will be calling your mother." Wow, not if. When. God, she''s not just screwing me over. She''s going in dry too. "G-got it," Greg replied. Turning back to the class, Greg began again. "Dante''s Inferno is about¡­ is about..." Greg paused, familiar memories hitting him. Memories of nearly four straight days on his console playing and replaying a great game. Holy Hell, that''s it! Dante''s Inferno! How did I forget? I played the story mode so many times. Greg smiled at his classmates, mulling over what little he remembered of the game''s plot for a moment. Then, he spoke. "Dante''s Inferno is about a man named Dante who enters Hell through a crack in the ground. He enters Hell to go and find this girl named Beatrice, I think, who died," Greg said, shrugging. "Anyway, Dante really loves her ''cause she''s his girlfriend or wife or something. So, the guy heads into Hell and ends up at this big river." Greg paused, holding up a hand. "Actually, before he gets to the river, he meets this dude named Virgil and then he gets past a gate or something to get to the river, I think. "Anyway, the river is where souls cross into actual Hell and Dante has to get across. To be honest, I didn''t get why there was a lake in Hell. Bad writing, maybe. Even if there''s a lake, why can''t he just swim, right?" Shaking his hand, Greg continues. "Forget the swimming part. So, he goes through Hell, and basically, Hell is divided into like nine areas or, I think, circles or something? And it goes like," Greg held up nine fingers and began counting down. "Limbo, Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Anger¡­ uhh, Heretics, Heresy?" Greg shrugged again, shaking his head. "And¡­ uh, Violence, Fraud and Treachery. I also didn''t really get why violence was separate from anger and greed was separate from gluttony. Why add two extra circles when you could have just had seven, am I right? Like, save yourself the time. Oh, yeah, there was also a city in Hell, which was really weird because who''s gonna live there? Demons? Why would they need a city? They''re demons." Greg couldn''t help but emphasize this part as it never made sense to him in the game. "Who''s the mayor of Hell? Lucifer didn''t live there so it couldn''t be him. Does the city have a stable economy? Do they pay taxes? I''m assuming this was kind of a type of fanfiction of the Bible but since I don''t ever plan on reading the Bible, I''m gonna assume it is." Greg nodded, turning back to his teacher. "That''s it. That''s basically all I remember from the ga-" Greg''s eyes widened as he caught himself from ruining his whole speech. "That''s all I remember from¡­ from what I wrote. That''s all of Dante''s Inferno that I can remember." Ms Gherry stared at him with half-lidded eyes, her smile long gone. After a few seconds of tense silence, she let out a deep sigh. "You know, Mr Veder. I''m surprised that you weren''t actually lying." "Me? Lie?" Greg made a raspberry noise, averting his eyes again. "I''m a terrible liar." Ms Gherry nodded in agreement. "I know. That''s why I said I was surprised. Full credit. Now get back to your seat."
Quest Success! Gained 500 XP. Gained Increased reputation with Nicole Gherry.
Bullshiting Lvl Up! 2¡ú3
By being extremely convincing, your CHA has increased by 1. Through recalling long-forgotten but relevant information, your INT has increased by 1.
Flashing his teacher and the class a shit-eating grin, Greg walked over to his seat. "Anyone wanna give me one up top for that awesome presentation I just pulled off?" Greg grinned at the three people sitting closest to him, raising a hand to be high-fived. "Andy? Janet? Madison?... No?" Greg shrugged. "Fine, be haters. I''ll high-five myself." And he did. It felt awesome. Grind 2.2 Grind 2.2 "Taylor!" The hallways at Winslow were always hectic but during the various lunch periods, they were magnitudes worse. "Hey, Taylor!" Being as bad as they were, most students had learned to move with the current of rushing students, simply heading to the cafeteria before heading off anywhere else, if only to avoid nearly getting trampled by the horde of hormonal, horny and hungry horrors known as teenagers. Even heading down one of the lesser-populated side hallways like this could be bad enough, especially if you were trying to catch up to someone who already had a head start. "Taylor, wait up!" English Lit had been over for almost a minute now, Taylor vanishing through the back door of the classroom the moment the teacher dismissed the class to their lunch period. Running out into the hallway, he caught sight of Taylor''s distinctive black hair only to immediately lose sight of her again as students poured out from their respective classes, some heading to lunch while most began moving to another class. Greg kept heading in the direction he had last seen Taylor in, walking in the opposite direction of the crowd even as people tried to push him back. Sliding against the wall, Greg pushed past the onrushing crowd, sliding into a relatively empty hallway. His eyes lit up as he saw her in front of him again, her steps somewhat hurried as she headed towards the stairwell. "Taylor!" She froze. For a moment, at least. Then, she started moving again, seemingly moving even faster this time. "Hey, Taylor! Wait up!" His jog turned into a full-bore sprint and in a few seconds, he was at the girl''s side, moments before she would have headed into the stairwell. "Taylor, it''s me. Greg?" Taylor shot him a look, one that Greg was familiar with. It was the one that very plainly said ''Are you retarded?'' "I know," she began, her voice low. "We''ve met. I''ve had class with you since last year." "Oh, well," Greg let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the base of his neck with one hand, "I didn''t mean it like that. You know, that you¡­ heh¡­ didn''t know me. I just¡­ uhh, I didn''t think you heard me calling you." "No." Taylor continued staring at him, her expression tinted with just a hint of frustration. "I heard you." "Ooooookay? How come you didn''t even slow down or turn around¡­ or anything?" "I was going somewhere." Taylor''s response was blunt, her voice dull as her hand grabbed hold of the rusted handle to the stairwell door. "I didn''t feel like waiting." "Fair enough," Greg replied with a slight laugh, "No worries, I''m not gonna take it personally or anything." "Yeah, that would be a shame," Taylor replied, deadpan. "Goodbye, Greg." Taylor pushed open the stairwell door in a rush, her stride already hurried again as she nearly ran down the stairs. Greg blinked as the girl he was talking to suddenly took off as if being chased by something. Running down to meet her in the wide area that was the stair landing, he shouted out, "Taylor, wait!" The girl stopped and glanced back at him, brown eyes somewhat cold. "What?" Slightly shocked at the harsh way Taylor bit out the word, Greg blinked. "Uhhh, I just¡­ I wanted to ask you if you want to eat lunch with me in the library. Today, I mean. Like¡­ like now?" Greg grinned, trying to end this mess of an invitation on a high note. Taylor shot him that same look one more time, only this one was mixed with disbelief. The girl let out a sigh, shaking her head before hitting Greg with that same expression for the third time in the same day. "No offense, Greg, b-" "Hey there, Hebert." Taylor froze up, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the stair railing, a familiar voice echoing slightly in the stairwell. "Dammit, Greg." Greg glanced at Taylor as he heard her muttered words. "Wait, what did I do?" "Look who it is," A different voice came clear and strong from the top of the stairs, echoing across the empty stairwell. "Little Taylor Hebert hiding off in another corner of the school like the rat she is and¡­ is that Greg? Hi, Greg." Greg glanced behind him to see a stunning redhead with her back to the door, her spine arched backwards like the door was an expensive car and she was a bikini model. Which was pretty darn fitting, now that Greg thought about it, considering Emma Barnes was an actual model. Being model-pretty, Emma was at the very top of Winslow''s social elite and considering Greg was at the bottom, their paths had never really intersected that much. Greg had never really paid that much attention to her and only noticed her every once in a while, mostly because she seemed to be around Taylor a lot. Someone had told him they were friends but now, he was starting to doubt it. What kind of friend says something like that? "Uhhhh¡­ hey, Emma." Greg tore his gaze away from the ginger to give Taylor a questioning glance only to see the girl with her head down, hands tight at her sides. What? "Hanging out with Hebert, Veder?" The familiar face of Sophia Hess popped out from behind the door, Emma making way for her friend to step through. Behind the dark-skinned girl, Madison Clements followed, looking as demure as always. The three of them began to make their way down the stairs, their movements oddly in sync. "That''s a new low for you. I didn''t think you were desperate enough to follow around a Merchant skank." Greg gaped while Taylor, at his side, seemed to shrink into herself. "Hey, y-you can''t say that to her!" Greg moved up to Sophia, staring down at the shorter girl with a fierce glare that she answered with one of her own. He turned his glare on Emma, the redhead simply smiling blithely at him in response. "Veder, get the fuck out of here before I shove my foot up your ass." Sophia''s tone was as harsh as it always was but the hint of actual anger in her threat was enough for Greg to take a step back. "We''re here for Hebert, not you."
Quest Chain "The White Knight!" Created! The White Knight Rises! Details: Defend the honor of thy Lady Hebert, Sir Veder, and in doing so, attempt to earn thy Lady''s tender affections! Success: Increased reputation with Taylor Hebert, 300 XP Failure: Severely decreased reputation with Taylor Hebert
Barely even glancing at the notification, Greg took a step forward. "What? You want me to leave and let you pick on Taylor?" Emma huffed, brushing her hair back behind her shoulder before responding. "Why do you even care, Greg? She''s fucking trash." Greg''s face flushed but instead of answering, he shot back with, "Why are you even picking on her in the first place? Sophia snorted. "I get it. The little boy wants to get into Hebert''s pants. Just pay her and she''ll probably let you do whatever you want, Veder." Emma smirked at Sophia''s words. "Sophia''s right, Greg, and Taylor knows it. After all, that''s what cheap hookers do." "Sh-sh-shut up, Sophia! Emma!" Greg''s face began resembling a tomato. "How can you say something like that about Taylor? She didn''t even do anything to you and she definitely isn''t a cheap hooker!" Sophia let out an annoyed groan. "Just admit you wanna fuck her and stop being such a little pussy, Veder." Greg fumed, taking another step forward. "Why don''t you stop being such a giant bitch, Hess?"
Quest Success! "The White Knight Rises!" Completed! Gained 300 XP.
"So, it''s gonna be like that, Veder?" Sophia said, still smirking. "Fine. Don''t act like I didn''t warn you." Greg''s frown grew confused. "What?" Sophia''s hands balled into tight fists and she began to walk down the rest of the stairs. Suddenly, she stopped, turning around, as the door at the top of the stairwell opened. Greg''s gaze rose to the top of the stairwell as a tall, dark-skinned figure walked out of it, a letterman jacket visible on his body. "Hey, Cal?" Sophia called out, surprising Greg slightly. "That you?" The tall figure stopped, glancing down as he heard Sophia''s call. "Yeah." "Come over here." The guy shrugged, before beginning to walk down towards them. "A''ight." Greg frowned as the football player walked. Why does she want him over here? That''s kinda weird. The person identified as Cal met Sophia on the stairs, Emma and Madison parting slightly to give him space. Greg narrowed his eyes, letting out a whispered, "[Observe]".
Calvin Younger Lv 8 Varsity Lineman HP: 300/300 A junior. Star lineman for Winslow High School. Loves kung-fu movies. Also, he is a giant dick. Scratch that. He HAS a giant dick. Overall, a decent guy.
"Yeah, Sophia? What you need?" "Him." The track star smirked, jerking her thumb in Greg''s direction. "Teach him a lesson for me." Greg''s eyes widened as the lineman turned to face him, a contemplative look on his face. "Any particular reason I''m doing this?" he rumbled, the four-syllable word coming out odd in Calvin''s deep baritone. "He called me a bitch and I don''t like him," Sophia calmly replied. Calvin blinked, the look on his face clearly unsatisfied. Yet, he just gave a shrug. "A''ight."
Quest Created! Stand Your Ground Details: Show "Cal" that you''re not a pushover and send him running. Success: Increased reputation with Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Taylor Hebert. 300 xp. Failure: Increased reputation with Taylor Hebert. Decreased reputation with Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Taylor Hebert.
"No hard feelings, kid," Calvin said, walking over to Greg. "I ain''t got beef with you but Sophia told me you need to learn a lesson and a couple of us owe her a favor so¡­" The rest went unsaid. Meaty hands came together, a loud crack sounding out as Cal popped his knuckles, the sound obviously intended to scare Greg. It didn''t work. Fists already up, Greg ducked into the junior''s reach. His fist snapped out twice in quick succession, striking soft flesh before the taller teen could react. Two sharp blows to his face sent him reeling, a slight spray of blood flying from his nose. A third jab struck hard to the junior''s chest. Eyes wide, Sophia stepped back as Cal stumbled backwards into the wall and fell to the floor, the football player clutching his nose. The large junior stared warily at Greg, shock and fear written all over his face before he slowly began to calm down. With slight shakiness, the football player picked himself up off the ground, his back scraping against the wall as he stared at Greg, still in his stance. "Nope." Greg blinked, dropping his fists to his sides. "What?" "I''m not doing this. You see, I got a game tonight, man. I''m not trynna walk out on the field all busted up. You can fight. I don''t wanna. No hard feelings?" Cal held a hand up in the air even as the other clutched his nose, blood already beginning to drip from between his fingers. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "No, I''m okay." Greg blinked, tilting his head to stare at up the much taller teen. "...I guess we''re cool then?" The statement ended up as a question, Greg rather unsure of why the football player still wasn''t trying to beat him up.
Quest Success! "Stand Your Ground" Completed! Gained 300 XP.
+ 75 XP "Cool." Glancing back at Sophia, the football player shook his head. "Yo, Hess.No offense, but I''m not here to get folded by some kid who spends all afternoon with Mr Miyagi." With that said, the football player turned away to walk up the stairs, leaving a few droplets of blood behind with each step. As Cal''s back disappeared over the top of the steps, Sophia''s eyes snapped to Greg, staring at him as if just seeing him for the first time. Emma did the same, her green eyes locked on him. Taylor just seemed confused, her confusion becoming even more apparent as Greg gave her a grin and a thumbs up. As she began backing away from the scene, the other girls'' attention still on Greg, Greg''s face began to fall. Don''t go. C''mon, Taylor. Wasn''t that awesome? I did that for you! C''mon. Greg sighed as Taylor disappeared down the other side of the stairs, off to do whatever in her rush to get away from them. "Veder?" Sophia finally said as she walked down on to the landing, her shock fading. "How the fuck did you just do that?" Even though Taylor not even smiling back at him left him feeling somewhat down, Greg turned back to face Sophia and allowed himself a smirk, winking at the track star as he dropped into a stance. "I know Kung Fu." Sophia''s surprised expression tilted down into a frown, the track star''s expression darkening further as she shot Greg a dark look. "You think so?" "I know so," Greg replied, still smiling. The dark-skinned girl threw a punch at his face, simple but fast. Greg hadn''t actually expected it but he reacted all the same. Snapping his wrist to the side of his face, he slapped the strike away with the back of his hand, pushing Sophia''s fist to the side so her knuckles just grazed the side of his head. -1 Sophia, surprised by the unexpected counter, tipped forward slightly as she over-extended herself from her punch. Taking advantage of her unsteadiness, Greg jerked forward and knocked his shoulder into her chest, pushing Sophia back into the stairs where her two friends still stood. Greg grinned as Sophia jumped back, the look on her face a mix of surprise and wariness. Her eyes narrowed. "Nice moves. You know I was just playing around with that last punch, though?"
Quest Created! Spar with Sophia Details: Show off your fighting skills in a playful match with Sophia Hess. Watch your back, though. She''s a feisty one. Success: Increased reputation with Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes. 500 XP. Failure: Decreased reputation with Principal Blackwell.
Greg kept smiling even as the pop-up appeared. "Thanks, Sophia. Playing around or not, it was still a good punch." Sophia frowned. "That wasn''t a compliment, retard. So, stop fucking smiling." Her frown turned into a snarl as Greg''s grin only grew. "The fuck did I say, Veder?" He couldn''t really help it, to be honest. It was actually kinda fun riling her up. "Sorry, Sophia. It''s just that when you growl like that, you sorta look like an angry kitty cat." Greg''s smile dimmed as Sophia''s expression turned murderous. Okay, maybe a bit too far. "You little sh-" Greg interrupted her with a snort, smirking in the shorter girl''s face as he blocked another punch to the face. "Little. You keep calling me that, you know? For someone that''s 5 foot three at the most, you have a lot of nerve." Sophia lunged at him and Greg''s hands went up again, instincts shifting his body in preparation to block her rising fist. -9 Greg gasped as a hard knee slammed into the spot between his legs, knocking the wind out of him and bringing tears to his eyes. As he instinctively hunched over, something hard struck him right between the eyes. -15 -7 Even as he stumbled back, the pain was already beginning to fade, and he flashed Sophia another smile, albeit a strained one. "I''ll give it to you, that kinda hurt." The dark-skinned girl growled again. "I''ll wipe that shit smile off your goddamn face, Veder!" Sophia pivoted at the waist, her right hand raised in a fist and Greg moved to block it. Later, Greg would like to say that he saw it coming and was just too slow to defend from her other fist, as it slammed into the right side of his head. The truth is, he didn''t even see it coming. -13 [Critical Hit!] A hard right to his jaw. -7 A powerful headbutt. -9 Another strike to his chest. -6 A firm hand grabbed his wrist, harshly twisting his flailing arm. -2 A foot hooked around his leg, sweeping him of his feet in one smooth move. -2 Greg landed hard on the linoleum floor, his face pressed down against the cold material while his arm was pulled back. Before he could get up or even to try to move, a hard sole pressed into his back, digging into his spine. -3 "See, here''s the thing, Veder," he heard Sophia''s voice, her tone sweet in that mocking way girls liked to use sometimes. "I know Kung-Fu. You don''t know shit." "I thought¡­ we were just¡­ ow¡­" Greg tried to get a sentence out, his teeth gritted as Sophia seemed to be doing her best to pull his arm out of the socket. "I thought we were¡­ playing around, Sophia." "We are, Veder," Sophia laughed, the sound making Greg blush in embarrassment. "This is playing around. I just happen to play real rough." Greg groaned, twisting as he tried to push himself to his feet. "Nghhh¡­ Let go¡­ of me." "Not gonna happen." Her foot dug deeper into his spine as she tightened her grip on his wrist, making him groan. "At least, not yet, Goldilocks. First, you got to tell me that you''re sorry." -3 Greg''s face began to redden even further, especially as he heard Emma giggling at the position Sophia forced him into. He tried once more to pull his arm free, only for Sophia to wrench it again, harshly jerking his wrist to the side. "Fine. Nggh¡­ I''m sorry." -4 Sophia smirked, letting go of Greg and stepping back. "That''s better." Spar with Sophia: Quest Failure! Through enduring a serious beating, your VIT has increased by 1.
Ability Level Up! Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 17 (XP: 80%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 13% from attacks less than 100% of your health. Brawling Lv 3 (XP: 15%) [Basic Fighting] variant I''m whatcha call a street fighter, a knuckle brawler. Grants limited knowledge of dirty fighting techniques. Increases damage of knee and elbow strikes by 2%. Basic Fighting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) The best fighter is not a Boxer, Karate or Judo man.The best fighter is someone who can adapt to any style. Basic Fighting involves the understanding of proper stances as well as the correct way to throw and block a kick or punch. Increases damage of punches and kicks by 2% Basic Footwork Lv 3 (XP: 5%) Everyone has a plan until they get kneed in the dick. Basic Footwork involves keeping your balance and controlling your positioning during a fight. Increases chance of dodging a punch or kick by 2% Parry Lv 3 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 6%.
Greg pulled himself to his feet, shooting Sophia a mocking grin as he reached his full height, towering several inches above the dark-skinned girl. "I wasn''t done. I meant to say, ''I''m sorry that the only way you can have fun is by hurting other people, you demented sicko.''" This time, Greg did see it coming. He just wasn''t fast enough to do anything about it. -10 Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 4 Experience 1300/1800
Health 150/150
Mana 75/75
Willpower 54/54
STR 5 SPD 3
VIT 6 INT 7
WIS 7(-80%) CHA 2 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Cash: $31.50
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Grind 2.3 Grind 2.3 "So, are you going to start or should I?" Greg stared out the car window, keeping his eyes focused on anything but his mother as the two of them drove away from Winslow. "Fine, if you''re not going to say anything. I''ll talk for both of us." Greg still didn''t reply, his fingers playing with his seatbelt as he watched the city rush by. "I can''t believe it, you know." Susan Veder kept her eyes on the road in front of her as she spoke, her voice somewhat more tired than usual. "Suspended, sweetie? Really? I almost can''t believe it. This is the first time this has ever happened. You getting suspended, I mean." Greg sighed, turning his gaze away from the window before replying with a soft "...yeah." "And for beating up a girl, Greg?" His mom shook her head. "I mean, I would say I taught you better than that but I never had to. You''re a good boy, Greg. A nice boy. What''s going on?" Greg sighed for the second time, resting his chin on an upraised palm. "You know," Susan continued again. "I get that kids act out when their parents get divorced but it''s been almost three years since then. If you were going to start doing drugs or acting like this, I feel like you would have already. So, tell me. What''s going on?" Greg''s stone-faced expression hardened slightly at the mention of the divorce but he didn''t respond. "Greg, it''s me. It''s Mom. I''m here for you." "..." "I''m sober. I''m working. We''re happy, right? We are. I know we are." Greg sighed again, keeping his head down as he fiddled with his hands. "Come on, Greg. You have to give me something here. I had to leave work to come and get you because the principal was all up in arms about you attacking a football player and the girls'' track team champion?" Susan shook her head. "It doesn''t make sense. Just say something."
Quest Created! A Boy''s Best Friend is His Mother Details: Stop sulking like a baby and talk to her. You''re breaking your mother''s heart here. Success: 75 XP, Increased relationship with Susan Veder Failure: Decreased relationship with Susan Veder, Grounded for a month
Greg winced at the sight of the failure punishment and he reluctantly turned his head to the side, deciding to engage with his mom at the system''s prodding. "Okay, first, I didn''t attack her, Mom." Susan raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly so that Greg could see her face. "Alright, then what happened?" Greg shook his head. "She lied. Sophia lied. I hit the football player because I was trying to help another girl who was getting picked on," Greg muttered, crossing his arms as he sunk further into his seat. "The track girl beat me up. She just lied to the principal to get me in trouble and her friends backed her up." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. There was a pause and then Greg blinked in surprise as his mother let out a snort of laughter. "...Mom?" "No, it''s¡­ just¡­" Susan Veder shook her head, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "Did you actually beat up a football player? I''ve seen some of them. They''re huge." "...yeah. I mostly just messed up his nose, though." "And then you lost to that tiny little thing outside of the principal''s office?" Greg let out a groan. "Mom, please don''t rub it in." "I''m not, sweetie. I''m¡­ I''m..." Susan let out a little laugh, trying unsuccessfully to disguise it as a cough. "That guy has to be twice your size and that girl is at best 5 foot 4." "I guess," Greg shrugged. "''I guess'', he says," Susan laughed to herself. "Sweetheart, you''ve never won a fight in your life." Greg sighed deeply, rubbing his slowly healing cheek. From the corner of his eye, he watched his HP slowly ticking back up, the numbers almost full. "I get it, Mom." Susan shook her head, clearing her throat as her small laughing fit died down to giggles. "I''m sorry, sweetie. It''s rare that this happens to me as a parent but right now, I''m torn between grounding you or buying you ice cream." "Really?" Greg''s face brightened, the idea that he wasn''t in trouble enough to get him out of his funk. "What?" Susan shot her son an unbelieving look as she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Of course not. No, not really." "Oh." Greg''s head went down again, his mop of blond hair covering his eyes. "Thanks for giving me false hope." Susan rolled her eyes at her son''s mood-swings. "Fine, I''ll buy you ice cream but there''s no way that you''re getting out of a grounding." Greg sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "I didn''t do anything wrong." "Sweetheart," Susan replied, speaking through gritted teeth, "You actively participated in a fight at school. Doing the right thing in the wrong way doesn''t solve anything." His mom shook her head, rolling her eyes as she did so. "I don''t know what you expected me to say." "...Aww." Greg pouted. A moment later, his face lit up slightly as his brain supplied him an idea. "Can I at least get two scoops? One cotton candy. One birthday cake. On a waffle cone." "No," his mother replied bluntly. "You''re getting one scoop and it''ll be Rocky Road in a cup." Greg made a retching sound, sticking out his tongue. "That''s more of a punishment than the grounding." Susan smiled at him, reaching over to ruffle her son''s hair to his vocal displeasure. "Just for that, I''m going to buy your order and eat it." "...that''s just heartless."
Quest Success! "A Boy''s Best Friend is His Mother" Completed. Gained 75xp.
Grind 2.4 Grind 2.4 "...have higher numbers of bones because some bones fuse together during childhood and adolescence to form..." His legs pumped relentlessly, each step slapping hard against the black tread as he continued running his fastest. His arms strained to stay up somewhat but Greg forced them to stay at his chest-level, refusing to slack off. "...to provide a rigid, internal structure that can support the weight of the body against the force of gravity, and to provide a structure upon which muscles can act to produce movements¡­" In the background, a weak speaker system blared out, repeatedly cycling through a playlist from some of Greg''s favorite game soundtracks. The speaker had been a gift from his friend Sparky for Christmas¡­ a super cheap gift, but then again, it was Sparky. Greg continued moving even as his head bobbed slightly to the music. Even then, his eyes remained firmly locked on the textbook in front of him, secured to the handles of the treadmill with a mix of duct-tape and hope. "The lower portion of the skeleton is specialized for stability during walking or running. In contrast, the upper skeleton has greater mobility and ranges of motion¡­"
Abilities Level Up! Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 2% per level. Stamina Lvl 5 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by 5 points per level.
Greg didn''t even raise his gaze as the single ''ping!'' sound rang out again, keeping his head focused on the book in front of him even as his muscles began to protest again. 1 more minute. I can do this. "The vertebral column consists of 24 bones, each called a vertebra, plus the sacrum and coccyx. The thoracic cage includes the 12 pairs of ribs¡­" Three ''pings!'' rang out in quick succession and Greg glanced up. Through intense physical training, your STR has increased by 1. Through intense physical training, your SPD has increased by 1. Through intense study, your INT has increased by 1. Greg smiled tiredly at the three pop-ups, the seventh time he had them all in a row since he had started training today at around 7 AM, an hour after he woke up. Eight hours of nonstop running on a treadmill for a twenty-one point overall stat increase and two new abilities. He smirked as he continued running. Worth it. His mother had left around 8, after glancing to see what he was doing down in the basement. The look on her face had been curious and more than a tad bit suspicious but thankfully, she didn''t ask any questions. A courtesy which Greg was nothing but thankful for. If she had even been the slightest bit curious, he would have found himself in a very complicated situation as Greg really wasn''t sure how he could explain this. In his search of the garage, Greg had found a selection of wrist and ankle weights that were able to help him increase his rate of stat improvement and basically make his entire workout more worth the time.
Limb Weights [100 lbs] Wearing weights to train, huh? What''s next, green spandex? + 50% to [STR] gain + 50% to [SPD] gain + 50% XP from combat against enemies up to level 15. - 5 [STR] when equipped - 5 [SPD] when equipped
The only real drawback had been the flavor text that accompanied his initial use of [Observe] on the item, the description itself changing after he equipped them. Apparently, the weights he now wore were how his mother "stayed as fit and toned as a twenty-year-old well into her mid-thirties." It was Greg''s opinion that if it wasn''t for Gamer''s Mind, the resulting mental image would have forced him to seek therapy. Regardless of the traumatizing imagery, Greg had equipped the four weights, loading the slots with all the thick metal slabs they came with for a total of twenty -five pounds per limb. It was hard enough walking with all the extra weight, but Greg knew he had to step it up if he wanted to get anywhere. In the basement, his mother had bought a treadmill a few years back. Greg had never touched it before, not really interested in running for the sake of it. That changed today. He had run harder and faster than he ever had before, putting his full attention into nothing but reading and running. In addition, he spent his time gulping down an entire bottle of Gatorade whenever his Will threatened to send him to the ground again. Of course, Greg had used up almost all the Gatorade in the house over the course of the day, but he felt it was a worthwhile investment. At a certain point, Greg had even considered getting some of his mom''s equipment and setting up an IV filled with nothing but electrolyte-replenishing sports drinks. After taking a moment to think about it, he had changed his mind, deciding to save the idea for a later time. After all, he wasn''t that desperate¡­ or was he? Losing to Sophia had been¡­ eye-opening, for lack of a better term. Completing the quest on Sunday had left Greg feeling like he was on top of the world. I mean, he beat up two armed criminals. Granted, he was the reason one of them was armed in the first place but¡­ He shook his head. Not the point. Those guys were actual criminals, but they had less HP and a lower level than a football player who was younger than them and hadn''t wanted to fight anyway. Greg wasn''t sure what that meant but he was pretty sure he could have beaten the football player, too. Sophia, on the other hand... Sophia was a monster. The girl was fast. Faster than him, without a doubt, and a lot stronger than her 5 ft 3 frame would imply. She had kept him off balance and hit so fast he could barely keep up. Hell, she was so good she probably could have taken out those Merchant guys in a couple of seconds even without his special skills. And she was just a track star! Greg thought bitterly. What does that say about actual martial artists or boxers or¡­ or¡­ or actual capes? With stats like this, he thought he could actually go out and do something. Sophia almost killed him with her bare hands! That would be great on a tombstone. Here lies Gregory Lucas Veder 1996 ¨C 2011 Beaten to death by a pissed-off teenage girl Greg''s mouth turned downwards slightly.Yeah, that would be embarrassing as all heck. Too distracted to focus on his reading, Greg just let out a sigh. "[Will.]" If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Willpower: 9/90
Sighing again, Greg let his arms fall, resting them on the handrails. And, I''m down to only 1 bottle of Gatorade too. "Okay, we''re done here." Greg pushed the ''Stop'' button on the treadmill, allowing the machine its first bit of rest all day as the tread''s motor begin to whir to a stop. His legs unmoving, the slow tread pushed him back until he fell off the treadmill. Greg collapsed against the hardwood floor of his basement for what must have been the thirtieth time that day, beads of sweat coating his entire body. Though he could feel the exhaustion dragging him down, he couldn''t deny that he felt better than he had in, like¡­ ever. Lighter, faster, stronger... He lay there, staring at the textured paint on the ceiling as he felt his body slowly recover, his will creeping up at a rate of about five points a minute. At this rate, it would take almost twenty minutes to get back up to full. God, my Will went up like crazy. That would normally be a good thing in any other situation if it wasn''t for the fact that the regeneration rate of his Will didn''t seem to increase proportionately. What once took six minutes now took eighteen. After getting smacked around by Sophia yesterday, he had noticed the same for his HP, the original rate of one point every fifteen seconds still the status quo. If the rate of his stat regen wasn''t enough to worry about, it seemed that the rate at which he was grinding stats was slowing down too. Each new pop-up he received had taken slightly longer than the previous one and it was kinda stressing him out. All Greg could hope for was that he wouldn''t start experiencing a "diminishing returns" situation anytime soon. Blinking as he suddenly remembered something, Greg thrust a hand into the tight pockets of his shorts. He held up his phone, the silver logo clear against the candy blue paint. His fingers went over the keypad of his flip-phone, putting in a number he knew by heart. Greg put the phone to his mouth as it rang. Once. "Mom?" "..." "Hi, yeah, could you buy me a twenty-four pack of Gatorade on your way home?" "..." "Nothing. Just been working out all day." "..." Greg pulled his head away from the phone, staring at the device with a look of annoyance. Shaking his head, he put the phone back to his face. "Mom, I''m not lying." "..." "Thanks, Mom. Love you." With that, Greg hung up, clutching the closed phone in his hands. A moment later, he cast a glance at the time and date on the LCD panel. 3:00 PM? Grunting slightly, Greg himself up into a sitting position. I got time. His free hand clambered around at his side, searching for something he had dropped on his way down hear several hours ago. With a metallic clatter, his hand brushed against something thick, long and cold to the touch. Greg brought the sixteen-inch wrench, which had to weigh at least five pounds, to his face and grinned. "No pain, no gain." Greg held the wrench under the bathroom faucet as it ran steaming water over the blood-covered implement and his stained hands. As his hands became clean enough, Greg pulled an energy bar from his inventory and began snacking on it, the item boosting the rate of his HP regen greatly. He had already eaten eight of them, he would know.
CLIF Energy Bar ¨C White Chocolate +20 HP +5 to HP every 15 seconds for 10 minutes
Almost two straight hours of striking his left arm with the wrench had sent his HP into the red several times. Not to mention, his method of training had ended up making both a bloody mess of both himself and the basement floor. But, then again, Greg couldn''t say it wasn''t worth it. Four points to VIT and eight levels to [Blunt Force Resistance] was nothing to sneeze at, after all. Lifting the jumbo-sized wrench again, Greg brandished it at the mirror in front of him and grinned. One finger went down to lightly touch his abdomen, trailing over an indentation in his stomach that hadn''t been there before this morning. He knew he looked a mess, standing there shirtless with half of his skinny torso splattered with blood and the other half covered in sweat and dirt. Even still, he liked what he saw. "Huh, I almost have abs¡­ Nice." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 4 Experience 1375/1800
Health 190/190
Mana 110/110
Willpower 96/96
STR 12 SPD 10
VIT 10 INT 14
WIS 7(-80%) CHA 2(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Grind 2.5 Grind 2.5 Greg raised his fist up to his face, doing his very best to ignore the weight on his wrist even as it threatened to bring his arm down. Raising his second limb to waist level, he spun on his heel and struck out into the air with a bare fist. Snapping his fist back to his waist, he launched a low kick at his imaginary opponent. Sweat dripped down his chest as he halted the kick, jumping backwards until his bare skin was only a few inches away from one of the basement walls. He moved forward, taking the offensive once again and snapping out a quick jab with his right. Spinning, he launched another with his left, a cross this time. Continuing, Greg threw out a hail of punches, unwilling to stop his barrage against the opponent in his head. His hand came up again, a palm to parry a strike. He threw out another palm, not for a soft deflection but a hard strike, aiming for what would be a neck. Another hail of blows was launched, sweat dripping from Greg''s body with every strike, his breath coming harder and faster as each blow met nothing but air. His hair clung to his scalp at this point, a mass of sweat acting like adhesive and glueing his blond locks into uncomfortable clumps on top of his head. Even still, he continued.
Ability Level Up! Basic Fighting Lv 6 (XP: 45%) The best fighter is not a Boxer, Karate or Judo man. The best fighter is someone who can adapt to any style. Basic Fighting involves the understanding of proper stances as well as the correct way to throw and block a kick or punch. Increases damage of punches and kicks by 4% Basic Footwork Lv 8 (XP: 70%) Everyone has a plan until they get kneed in the dick. Basic Footwork involves keeping your balance and controlling your positioning during a fight. Increases chance of dodging a punch or kick by 5%
He''d been at this for only an hour, starting immediately after he''d gotten out of the shower to wash the blood and grime off his body. Shadow-boxing. Shadow-boxing was an idea he''d had last night, several hours after his mom drove him home. He''d heard of boxers punching at the air and martial artists practicing their katas to improve their skill. It all seemed to work for them, so Greg only thought it made sense to try it out for himself. His two original fighting abilities had levelled rather impressively over the past hour, his [Basic Footwork] making the most improvement out of the two. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Making progress. Greg thought to himself, blocking a set of fake punches before retaliating with his own. This is so great! I cannot wait till Friday. The corner of Greg''s mouth lifted into an eager smirk. I''ll show Sophia some of this¡­ Greg threw several strikes, aimed at an imaginary solar plexus, his hands managing to move rather smoothly despite the weight. He spun back, throwing several jabs to what would be his opponent''s back. Some of these¡­ His leg snapped up in a sharp kick before he spun on his heel and struck out with a surprisingly fast heel strike, jumping forward and slamming an elbow into some imagined body part. And a little bit of this! Greg snapped his hand out in a quick palm strike, his other hand pulled back in a tight fist. Greg''s smirk widened slightly. Let''s see her try to stop that. Deciding to put an end to his exercise for the day, Greg dropped his hands to his sides, relaxing his stance into a normal standing position. "[Inventory: Limb Weights]." As the heavy items on his limbs vanished in a blink of blue light, Greg let out a tired sigh. His shoulders slumped forwards as he bent at the waist, his body rather drained after nearly a complete hour of practicing his fighting. After using up his last full bottle of Gatorade to keep his exercise going at the same rate, Greg was down to simply waiting for his Will to climb back up on its own. In fact, that reminded him of something. "[Will]."
Willpower: 35/96
"Huh, not bad. That''s at least," Greg blinked, doing a quick bout of mental math. "24 Angry Straights. I call that progress." A moment later, Greg''s smirk turned into a tired smile and he made his way over to the other end of the basement to grab a white towel he had thrown over the handrail of the treadmill. Simply rubbing the cloth into his face was good enough for him now, wiping off some of the sweat and grime that an hour-long workout could accumulate on his pores. As he tossed the white cotton fabric over his shoulders, Greg made his way over to the stairs. The moment his foot touched the bottom step, Greg froze. Ding-Dong! He blinked. The doorbell? Did Mom forget her key again? Shaking his head, Greg ran up the basement stairs, the towel bouncing on his shoulder. As he opened the basement door, the doorbell rang once more, and Greg repressed an exasperated sigh. "Hold your horses, Mom!" He shook his head as he walked towards the door. "You''re always telling me to carry a spare key, too." His hands closed around the doorknob and he opened it, a smile on his face. "Maybe next time, you can follow your adv-" "Hey there, Greg." The smile vanished instantly as Greg froze up, his mouth slightly open in shock. "Greg?" Grind 2.6 Grind 2.6 Greg stared at the figure in front of him, trying desperately to find the words, any words, to say. His hands twitched at his side as he stood there in shock, the idea that he would see her at his house of all places was something he never thought would happen. Pale skin shone as she stood there, the light bulb above the doorway acting like a miniature halo. Loose hair the color of fresh blood danced around her shoulders like a morbid waterfall while emerald eyes blinked at him, long eyelashes dancing like butterflies. "E- Emma?" His voice came out far more high-pitched than he intended it to, nearly a squeak as he replied. Her lips tilted upwards in a slight smile. "Hey, Greg." The red-head took a step forward and Greg caught sight of what she was wearing, nearly stumbling back into his house as his mind processed it. An open jacket with a pink low-cut t-shirt directly under it forced Greg to keep his gaze locked on her face, the shirt itself not as much of a hazard as the necklace that threatened to dip inside her shirt, continually drawing Greg''s attention to the pale flesh there. "Emma, wh- what are you doing here?" She tilted her head slightly, the smile at her lips growing slightly. "I know this is kind of sudden, but can I come in?" Shaking his head, Greg opened his mouth to reject her only for Emma to cross her arms underneath her chest. "I just want to talk to you a bit and it''s a little cold out here. I''m so stupid that I didn''t wear a thick enough jacket." Her eyelashes fluttered slightly as she gave a little shiver. It took Greg a good ten seconds to realize that he couldn''t find the words.
[Distracted by The Sexy] Debuff applied A hot girl is any straight man''s Kryptonite. -50% INT and WIS in a social situation (Immediately resisted with over 20 WIS or 15 CHA)
"Greg?" The redhead bit her lip slightly, the sight forcing Greg to swallow nothing but air. "...s-s-sure." The agreement fell from Greg''s lips, less a word and more a collection of sounds. "Come on in. T-t-take a seat." "Thanks, Greg." The side of Emma''s mouth went up in a smile that Greg could only describe as dangerously distracting. "That''s so nice of you." Still blinking in confusion, Greg stepped aside and let the girl walk into his house. Unable to help himself, Greg found his head turning to stare at her back as she walked past him, the tight jeans she had on forcing him to blink in disbelief. He followed right behind her, closing the door without even looking. As if she had been there many times before, Emma lowered herself onto the couch in the living room with a level of grace that Greg would have attributed to some sort of dancer. Turning around to look at Greg, Emma shot him another dazzling smile that nearly made him stumble. "Come on, Greg. What are you doing over there?" Raising a finger to his chest as if to ask ''Me?'', Greg nodded dumbly and walked over to the girl in his living room. I am so gonna brag to Sparky about this. All the times he had bragged on PHO about hanging out with models, no one had believed him. Now¡­ Well, even if he wasn''t temp banned, no one would believe him anyway. Greg dropped himself at the far end of the couch to Emma, keeping a good distance between them as he did his best not to act weird. His action was made pointless moments later as Emma moved down the couch until the two of them were nearly touching each other. Greg kept his eyes locked onto his knees, doing his best not to ogle her. We don''t know each other! Why is she so close? How does she know where I live? I''m so confused! Greg felt a chill run down his spine as Emma shook off her jacket and backpack and placed them between her legs, the action causing her arm to slide against his chest. His bare chest. Greg found himself blinking rapidly, his heart beating even faster as he came to the realization that since he had opened the door for Emma, he had been entirely without a shirt the entire time. Oh my God, why is she so close? I can''t breathe. I can''t breathe! Suppressing an internal freakout, Greg scooted slightly closer to the edge of the couch and turned to the side to face his guest. "S-s-so, Emma," Greg cleared his throat. "¡­ummm¡­ why are you here?" His eyes widened the moment the sentence left his mouth. What are you doing? You can''t just ask someone why they''re somewhere? Why would you say that? What''s wrong with you? Greg found himself spluttering out an apology for his previous sentence, his mouth working at hyper speed. "I-I-I didn''t m-m-m¡­ that w-wa¡­" Emma waved off Greg''s explanation, silencing Greg with a giggle as she held a well-manicured hand up to her face. His face turning almost as red as her hair, Greg shrunk into himself slightly. Ironically, he found himself more comfortable like this, entirely used to girls laughing at him than actually talking to him. As her giggling died down somewhat, Emma ran a hand through her hair, tucking several strands behind her ear before turning back to face Greg. "It''s okay, Greg. I get it. We don''t know each other, we don''t talk and almost never see each other outside of class. Why am I here?" Greg shrugged, letting out a slow breath. "N-not that it''s not nice to see you. It''s super nice to see you," Emma''s smile seemed to increase as he said this, the sight waking the butterflies in Greg''s stomach, "but¡­ umm¡­ well, why?" Emma giggled again, the sound sending the butterflies into a panic. "A couple of things, actually. I felt really bad for what happened yesterday with you¡­ and Taylor. So," Emma''s hand dipped into her backpack, pulling out a small stack of papers, "I decided to head to all your teachers and get your homework for you. Everything till Friday." Greg held out his hands, picking up the sheaf of papers from Emma and laying them flat on the coffee table with only the slightest trembling of his fingers as they grazed Emma''s palm. "Thanks, Emma. That''s super nice of you," Greg replied, a rictus of a smile frozen on his face. "That''s not all, Greg," Emma continued, smile getting slightly wider, "I also got you an apology gift." Greg blinked. "You got me a gift?" he echoed, surprised that anyone would go that far. Emma nodded. "I really wanted to apologize. You know, for what Sophia did. So..." Emma''s hand dove into her backpack again, rising a few moments later from the hot pink bag with a clear container in her grasp. "A slice of cake?" "What?" Emma''s lips pursed slightly, her eyes falling as she pouted. "You don''t like it?" "No, I love it!" Greg''s reply was as genuine as it was eager, his hands taking the container of cake from Emma''s grasp with clear excitement. "Vanilla is my favorite! I just¡­ didn''t expect it." Emma''s pout turned back into a dazzling smile, her white teeth barely peeking out from underneath. "That''s great. I just wanted to apologize. After what Sophia did¡­," Emma paused, emerald eyes narrowing at Greg''s face before lowering to his chest, "I just wanted to see if you were okay." Greg shrugged, an uneasy look on his face. "I''m fine." Emma''s smile gained a bit of an edge. "Oh, I can see that. I just wanted to make sure. Sophia¡­ well, she can get a little aggressive and excessive sometimes and she''s not¡­ she''s not really used to people standing up to her, especially people she thinks are all talk." "I could tell." Greg found himself frowning as Emma''s words reminded him of Monday, especially the way Emma had treated Taylor. [Distracted by The Sexy] Debuff removed "I don''t really care about what Sophia did, Emma. To me, at least." A slight scowl on his face, Greg turned to Emma again. "I just wanna know¡­ what was Monday about, anyway? Why were you and Sophia saying those things to Taylor?" "Greg¡­" She sighed, tossing her hair behind her ears once more as she leaned back into the couch. "Taylor and I¡­ we kinda have history and a lot of it is really personal. We stopped being friends before we started Winslow and honestly, a lot has happened since then." "A lot has happened?" There was suddenly more space between the two of them as Greg moved over to the very edge of the couch. You guys called her a whore!" "Greg, girls call each other whores all the time. The whole thing is a lot deeper than I really want to get into right now. Really personal stuff." Greg shook his head, not willing to let this go just yet. "Wait, where you the ones you shoved Taylor in her locker? Was that you?" Emma''s eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you see what happened, Greg?" Greg shook his head again, frowning. "No, but I heard about it. They had to call 911." Emma grabbed his arm with one hand, manicured fingers coiling around growing muscle. "Greg, you have to understand, I didn''t do anything. Madison came up with the idea and Sophia pulled it off. I get that it was mean, but I didn''t actually do anything." "It was more than mean, Emma." Greg scowled at what he remembered. "It was just plain terrible. I mean, she had to go to the hospital." "Don''t you think I know that, Greg? It was terrible, what happened to Taylor, and I''m sad about it but it wasn''t me who did it." "But you just sa-" Greg began to work himself up, only for Emma to interrupt. "I said Madison came up with the idea and Sophia shoved her in the locker. All I did was not say anything because I didn''t want my friends to get expelled." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "But Taylor got hurt!" Greg replied tersely. "I know, Greg, and I feel bad about it but me and Taylor aren''t friends anymore." Emma sighed again, placing her soft hand over Greg''s and squeezing. "There''s a lot there that you don''t understand. I would love if Taylor and I were best friends again but I''m not counting on it." "Why?" Greg found himself asking. "Why did they do it? Why did they even start? I don''t know what Taylor could have done to Madison and Sophia to treat her like that." "Greg, it''s not that simple. It has to do with me but it''s too¡­ soon for me to talk about it." Emma shook her head, the action wafting the scent of jasmine into Greg''s nose. The redhead leaned forward, her necklace dangling right above her chest and drawing Greg''s attention."You understand, right?" [Distracted By The Sexy] Debuff applied "S-sure, I get it," Greg blinked. "Personal stuff." "Oh, I knew you''d understand." Without warning, Emma rushed forward and Greg found himself in the best hug he''d ever gotten in his whole life as Emma''s chest pressed against his. "Thanks for listening to me." "...you''re welcome." Greg wasn''t sure if Emma actually heard his response, his voice jumping so high up in pitch that he himself barely heard it. "I mean, I mean¡­ uhh¡­ no problem." Emma slowly pulled away, despite how much Greg would prefer she never moved, only to stare up into Greg''s face, a small smile on her face. "You know, Greg, you''re actually really cute." Greg inhaled through his nose, an awkward smile frozen on his face. Cute. Cute. Cute. The word bounced around inside his head like a bouncy ball hurled by a strongman, filling his brain until he only had one thing to say. "You think I''m cute?" Emma nodded. "Super cute." She fluttered her eyes at him again. "Has a girl ever told you that before?" "I mean, uhh¡­ my mom tells me that all the time but she''s my mom, so...," Greg let out an awkward laugh, the sentence trailing off unfinished. Emma giggled again, one of her hands falling on Greg''s chest. "You can tell your Mom that I agree with her." Greg shifted a bit awkwardly in the couch, the armrest pressing up against his back. "Umm¡­ Emma, when you say cute, do you mean¡­" Greg''s fingers twitched against his leg, barely repressed excitement and nervousness warring against each other as Emma''s hand remained on his chest. "Like a¡­ Like a guy or¡­ or like a puppy?" Emma laughed out loud, raising a hand to her mouth again. "You''re so funny, Greg," Her voice came out soft and breathy as she leaned into him again, one hand going up into his hair and caressing it softly as she whispered four words into his ear. "What''s wrong with both?" "...urk." Greg felt extremely thankful that he had decided to wear a tight pair of briefs over his basketball shorts this morning. Her hand trailed up his torso, slender fingers dancing along his chest and making his head spin. "You''re more than cute. You''re nice and you listen to me." Emma began, her breath hot against his chest. "And that''s not all, you also have blue eyes." Emma suddenly sat up, turning around and sitting right back down. Onto Greg''s lap. "You know I really like blonde guys, Greg, especially with blue eyes." Emma''s green eyes seemed to be staring into his soul, sending Greg''s mind a hundred places, all of them centered on the pretty girl in his lap. He gulped, doing his best not to move his legs too much. "R-really?" Eyelashes lowered until Emma was staring up at Greg from half-lidded eyes. "Really." Greg let out a low shuddering breath as he realized that the butterflies weren''t just awake, they were having a party. "Thing is, when it comes to guys at Winslow, you never know what blonde or blue-eyed guy is part of the Empire." Greg shook his head furiously. "Not me. Not me." "Of course, you''re not Empire, Greg." Emma leaned into him as she sat on his lap, her palm flattening against his chest as she pushed him down onto the couch. "I know that someone like youcould never be a Nazi. Someone as cute, nice, and understanding as you would never think someone was bad or evil before you got to know them, right?" She swung her leg over Greg''s, her other knee resting on the couch until she was almost straddling the blond boy. "Right?" "Right." Greg nodded, swallowing more air as he found himself gulping again. Dipping her head back, Emma ran her hands through her hair, tying it back with a pink scrunchie that Greg didn''t remember her pulling out. Blue eyes stared into green. Emma dove forward.
New Abilities gained! Kissing Lv 5 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time spent without air to three minutes.
Lips pressed against Emma''s, Greg was the closest he''d ever been to Nirvana. His own thoughts were lost against the feeling of her tongue probing against his, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils with jasmine. His hands went up, resting on Emma''s shoulders and pulling her further in, Emma moving forward as well. Greg never wanted this to end, this feeling somehow better than anything else. Emma even seemed to be enjoying it almost as much as he was, the noises she made sounding vaguely happy. This was perfect. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else needed to matter. "Sweetie, I''m home!" Both Emma and Greg opened their eyes, staring at each other in shock even as the door slammed shut. Emma began to pull away, but it was already too late. "Oh My God!" Susan Veder stood at the foyer, looking on into the living room, an unwitting bystander of her son''s first kiss. Both Greg and Emma jumped to their feet. The back of Emma''s hand went to her lips, wiping her mouth of any remnants of their kiss. After a moment''s hesitation, Greg did the same, eyes on his mother. "Mom," Greg spoke up, his voice cracking spectacularly, "you''re home early." "It''s¡­ it''s five-thirty. I''m home late." Greg winced. "I had to stop and buy the Gatorade you asked for. It''s in the car." Emma let out a musical laugh, the sound itself trying to mask the awkwardness of the situation. "Hi, Ms. Veder, I''m Emma." The redhead waved from her position at Greg''s side, a perfectly natural smile on her face. "Emma Barnes." Susan nodded, a very tight, near-invisible, smile on her own face. "Hello, Emma." She gave Greg a questioning glance, eyes narrowed to the point of being slits, the boy in question still with a dopey smile on his face. "Always good to meet my son''s friends." Greg said nothing. "Well," Emma cut in as the awkward silence began to stretch, throwing her backpack and jacket over her shoulder, "I have to go catch a bus." Susan raised an eyebrow. "I can give you a ride." Emma laughed that same musical laugh again, eyes flitting between Greg and his mother rather quickly. "No, no, no, no, no. I don''t live that far at all." Emma made a break for the door, moving rather briskly. "Bye, Greg. It was nice to meet you, Mrs Veder." Susan flinched slightly at the Mrs title, the way she always did, but bore it with a forced smile. "Same to you, Emma." The door slammed shut and Susan Veder turned to face her son, her smile still tight but her eyes promising hell. "Mom¡­" "Gregory." "Mom, listen¡­" Greg began to plead, gulping nervously. "Greg, who in the hell was that¡­ that red-haired wh¡­ wh...h," Susan''s face seemed to be threatening to turn red as she did her best to push out whatever word was on her mind, "hussy and what was she doing in my house? On top of my son?" "Mom," Greg raised his hands up to his face, palms facing his mother in the universal sign of surrender. "Mom, it''s¡­ it''s¡­ not what it looked like." "Oh?" Susan''s tight smile dropped into a frown as she brought both hands to the waist of her scrubs. "Oh, so I didn''t just see a girl straddling my son while he''s half naked? I didn''t just see that girl''s filthy mouth on yours? Is that what you''re trying to tell me right now, Greg Veder?" "Mom," Greg bit his lip, "she wasn''t filthy." "Greg!" "Okay! Yes¡­ that. What you said, yes." Greg groaned through gritted teeth. "Yeah, that looked bad." "Looked?" B-b-but there''s context, Mom!" Greg took a step back as his mom advanced on him, a nervous look on his face even as he continued to smile. "There''s a lot of context you weren''t here for." "Context? You want to talk to me about context, Greg?" Spreading her arms out, Susan let out a huff. "Fine, tell me. What''s this magical context that will make this situation all better?" "Well, she''s a model, Mom," Greg chuckled nervously, unable to hide the wide smile on his face in front of his from his mother no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, "uhhh¡­ she likes me. She really likes me and¡­. And¡­ uhhh¡­ she said that she wants you to know that¡­ uhhh¡­ she thinks I''m cute too." "Mom, just¡­ just... look at it this way," Greg lifted his hands, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug, his mind trying to come up with something to say. "I just had my first kiss." Susan''s Veder''s hands twitched at Greg''s words and the unbridled happiness on his face. "I mean, really, Mom, you should be happy for me right now." "Gregory. Lucas. Veder." The look on his mother''s face was just short of livid, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she advanced on her son. His smile tightening slightly on his face, Greg slowly picked up the container from the table and held it out to his mother, presenting it with both hands. "...cake?" Cutscene: Text Conversation
A noise from outside his door snapped Greg''s attention from the message he was about to send, the hallway light suddenly shining from underneath his door another warning. Eyes wide, Greg snapped his phone shut and pulled the covers over his head. A moment later, he heard the gentle creak of the door hinge as his door opened, the wide beam of light from the hallway visible even from under his comforter. Footsteps, calm and steady, were audible as they plodded closer to his bed. Stilling his breathing, Greg shut his eyes and waited. Like he expected, the covers were lifted from his body and allowed to fall, pooling near his feet and exposing his half-naked body to the cold. For a moment, there was silence as Greg pretended to be asleep even as he could feel his mom staring down at him. "Greg." He let out a breath, slowly simulating what he assumed he sounded like when he slept. "I know you''re awake, Greg." Greg winced internally, still keeping up the facade of his slumber. Susan sighed. "Just hand over your phone and I''ll go back to bed." Deciding to let it go, Greg opened a single eye to glance at his mom and spotted her standing at the foot of his bed, one hand on her face as she stood there. Her hair was tied back in a knot, secured with a scrunchie, and she wore a long nightgown. "Hey, mom." Greg tried to give her a smile, but found his grin fading when his mother''s blank expression didn''t even twitch. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. "Phone. Now." A single hand dove under his pillow and Greg pulled out his cell, the flip phone still somewhat warm in his hands from a recent charging. Greg sat up in his bed, dropping an arm over his upraised knees. "Okay, here." As Greg stretched his arm out to hand the phone over, it was quickly palmed by his mother. With a sigh, she glanced down at the candy blue device before giving her son a look that he couldn''t quite parse. "I was just texting Sparky, you know." Greg offered as a means of explanation. "Nothing else." "Mmmhmm." Susan hummed in response, turning her back to Greg and walking back the way she came from. As she reached the door, she paused to glance over her shoulder at her son and cast him another odd look, one eyebrow raised as if in thought. For a moment, Greg had hope that she would change her mind. She had already taken away his game consoles, his desktop and his laptop before they even sat down for dinner. Without his phone, all he had left was a television in his room, a television that he never even bothered watching anyway. Maybe she changed her mind or maybe she saw the hopeful look on Greg''s face, he wasn''t really sure which. All Greg knew was her eyebrow fell and her mouth thinned as her hands closed around the doorknob. "Good night, Greg." And with that, she shut the door, leaving Greg in the dark. A moment later, the hallway light clicked off and her footsteps faded away. Greg fell back onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling through what little light his window provided. "Well, damn."
Buff 3.1 Buff 3.1 Again, this wasn''t smart. Greg was sure of it. Yet, here he was doing it anyway. Story of my life. Greg shook his head. Through critical self-analysis, you have gained 1 WIS point. Thank you for confirming that this is a stupid move, power. "Great," Greg muttered under his breath as he slowly shut the back door behind him, taking care not to make any sound. "It''s bad enough I talk to myself, now I''m talking to my power."
New Abilities Gained! Sneaking Lv 1 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Cold Resistance Lv 3 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 3%
"Is it just me or should those both be higher?" Greg shook his head, letting out a huff of visible breath into the cold night air as he shivered. "Whatever. Doesn''t matter." He took several steps forward, creeping towards the center of the backyard, before suddenly tilting his head up to stare at a darkened window. Okay, mom''s light is still off. I''m good. Greg smiled tightly and continued to make his way to the front yard. If his mom had been awake, he wasn''t sure how he would have explained away his actions. Hey, mom. Just going for a midnight jog dressed in a black hoodie and a hockey mask. Nothing suspicious here at all. Greg shook his head, rolling his eyes underneath his mask. Yeah, she''d just eat that up. The last two days had been a noted departure from his usual relationship with his mom. Before, the two of them had been pretty close, their relationship almost as happy as it had been before the divorce. The previous night and the one before that had been drastically different, their normally talkative home time replaced by long periods of uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Dinner these past two days hadn''t even been a thing between them, Greg eating his meal in the basement to hasten his workout while his mother sat at the dinner table alone. Apart from some throat-clearing and muttered apologies on Greg''s part when they passed each other in the hallway, tonight had continued along the same quiet vein as the previous one. It was, in Greg''s mind, somewhat of a break from the nearly half-hour-long yelling spree his mom had subjected him to that Tuesday night. She had gone on about pregnancy, STDs - especially herpes- and the dangers of getting into a relationship while young. Greg actually listened closely, despite having heard all this a hundred times before and in a much calmer environment. In a way, Greg actually preferred the yelling to the silence. At least when his mother was yelling, he knew she was angry because she cared. All the silent treatment did was leave him feeling empty, making him feel like he had disappointed her somehow. It didn''t help his guilty feelings that he couldn''t get his mind off of Emma, thoughts of the redhead filling his spare moments and even invading his dreams. It only made his confusion with his mom''s moodiness even worse, really. He didn''t even get why she was so angry! At least... not really. It wasn''t like the whole situation was his fault. He didn''t invite Emma; he had said as much to his mom. He wasn''t even the one to kiss Emma. What was so wrong with just¡­ you know..., letting it happen? It wasn''t like Emma was a bad person, anyway. She was just a girl who liked him. Why couldn''t his mom understand that? What, did his mom expect him to never want to talk or to be around girls? Sadly, his mom hadn''t really taken kindly to those arguments. In her rush to punish him, Greg found himself without a phone, his laptop and desktop computer already previously been confiscated. He hadn''t said much as she took his things, packing all of the electronics into the trunk of her car and leaving his room empty with nothing but posters, cape paraphernalia and a rarely-used television to fill the void. Honestly, Greg hadn''t complained¡­ much. Sure, there was the token resistance that his mom would''ve expected but he didn''t really fight it. He knew that his mom was obviously hoping that losing his games and electronics would make him behave but even if the events of the last few days were all his fault, Greg doubted it would work anyway. After two days of training, Greg was beginning to find that he didn''t necessarily crave video games as much as he did just the week before. He knew it was a bit odd but he''d rather intermittently stab and bludgeon himself with a kitchen knife and a hammer for an hour and a half (+ 2 Slashing Resistance, + 6 Piercing Resistance, + 2 Blunt Force Resistance, + 3 VIT) - including the time spent waiting for his HP to regen before doing it again - just for the sheer joy of watching his XP numbers rise as opposed to spending his time playing Space Opera, Vice Squad or Trip Murphy: Undefeated. It was a bit odd but Greg didn''t find himself questioning the change, simply throwing himself into his "daily grind." With his mom gone all day for work, that still left him time to work on his stats. Now, that would have made the whole situation better if it wasn''t for one big problem bringing his mood down. There wasn''t much actual working out to be done. It wasn''t that Greg wasn''t trying, either. No, quite the opposite. He was, in fact, trying as hard as he had that first day, putting his all into his workout. The problem lay in the fact that his gains were slowing down. That first Tuesday had allowed him to train his STR, SPD and INT all the way up by seven points after eight hours of constant exercise, albeit with the help of a series of "potions" to boost his Will. Then today, the same exercise with the same amount of time spent on it only increased those three stats by four points. A forty percent drop in gains. That''s what he was looking at. Forty percent! That was basically half. Greg wasn''t sure if that meant each increase in the stat lowered the effectiveness of his training by almost six percent or if it was an overall type of thing. Either way, it still sucked. He knew that he was stronger, obviously. He felt stronger, faster too. Hell, he felt lighter! Greg didn''t even have to struggle as much to lift the weights, the drain on his Will much less from running with them but still¡­ what was he supposed to do better? Even if he did the same workout the next morning, he''d be lucky to manage a two-point average increase across the board. This was just insane. How was he supposed to make any real gains like that? Deciding to find a fix to the situation later, Greg was forced to spend even more time on grinding his other skills, only to hit an even worse roadblock. After three entire hours in the basement practicing what rudimentary martial arts knowledge he had, both his [Basic Fighting] and [Basic Footwork] had leveled up to - as well as refused to budge one percentage past - Level 10, while [Brawling] became MAX at a shockingly low Level 5. While Greg had been super excited about this already, what came next nearly made him cheer at the top of his lungs.
[Basic Fighting] at Level 10. [Basic Footwork] at Level 10. [Brawling] at Level 5 Combine to Unlock [Beginner Combat]? [Yes] [No]
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.Progress. He was making progress, moving up in the world! Or, at least¡­ the game. Which meant¡­ eventually, the world. His immediate response was to tap the [Yes] that hovered in front of his face, and he did it without hesitation. What came next proved to be the major annoyance of the day.
Cannot unlock [Beginner Combat] Must defeat user of [Beginner Combat] or above to unlock Must be Level 5 to unlock
The pop-up had sent his spirits to the ground. Honestly, it was enough to make someone scream in frustration. Why? Greg had thought to himself, fingers in his hair. Why shake it in front of my face if I can''t unlock it yet? How am I supposed to get to level 5 without a quest? Fuck you, game! The ''ping'' sound went off in the back of his head a moment later.
Repeatable Quest Created! First Blood II: Even Bloodier! Details: Head out into the city and defeat fifteen Archer''s Bridge Merchants. Success: Highly increased reputation with the Empire 88, +6500 XP, + 1 Stat Points, [Enemy] reputation with the Merchants Failure: None Time Limit: Sunrise Cooldown: 7 days Bonus: Encounter a cape.
Greg had been torn between groaning and smiling at this new pop-up. A quest after several days without one? Awesome! Enough XP to possibly hit Level 6? Amazing! A free Stat Point? Incredible! Fighting fifteen Merchants? Horrible. An [Enemy] reputation with the Merchants? Also Horrible. Having to finish the quest before sunrise? Hellish. It was both the answer to his prayers and a hassle he didn''t feel like dealing with. Although, the whole increased reputation with the Empire thing was something he could live with if he was honest with himself. After all, he knew what he looked like. He doubted the Empire would have hated him in the first place. In the end, though, what choice did he really have? So, here he was. Standing next to his house at just past midnight, inventory full of Gatorade "potions", protein bars and every weapon-like item he could think to grab from the garage and basement. Greg didn''t even have it in him to give up now. He wasn''t sure what he would do or say if his mom found out he left the house overnight but he wasn''t about to lose out on a big-time quest like this. Besides, I''m already double grounded, Greg mused, actually thinking it over. What''s mom gonna do? Triple ground me? Greg actually smiled slightly at the thought. He loved his mom but right now, the only real thing he was focused on right now was clearing this game. Greg frowned at the thought he just had. Is clearing the right word? How would I clear the game of my life? He shook his head slightly, brushing off the thought. This feels like a philosophical type of thing. Just focus on leveling for now, Greg. "[Inventory: Equipment]." As he called out the words, the screen appeared and Greg once again found himself staring at his body represented in a 3D rendering of the Vitruvian - Vesuvian? Vaudevillian? One of those - man. His equipment items were represented as well, from the Friday the 13th-esque hockey mask he wore to the running shoes on his feet.
Equipment Jason Voorhees Hockey Mask His name was Jason... and today is his birthday. + 4 to [Bladed Weapons] ability + 4 to [Intimidate] ability + 1 to [Hockey] ability Durability: 100/100 Thick Hoodie + 10 to HP Durability: 71/100 Pretentious Scarf Wearing this long scarf will make you want to recite poetry and speak Latin. You can''t do either but you can try. + 3 to [Latin] + 3 to [Poetry] + 2 to [Bullshitting] + 2 to [Feinting] Durability: 98/100 Nike Zoom JST Dad''s old running shoes. Just another thing he left behind. You''re not bitter, though. Honestly. + 1 to SPD + 10% reduction in Will cost from running. + 10% reduction in Will cost of [Power Sprint] Durability: 84/100
Oh, shut up. Greg ignored the obvious jibe the description of the shoes threw at him, shoving down the flare of annoyance he usually felt in reference to his father and quickly ignoring it to look over what he wore. What kind of game hates the player, anyway? In addition to all of that, he also wore the kickboxing gloves, deciding to let go of the toeless shoes in exchange for the speed bonii the sneakers offered. "Well, I''m all decked out." Arching his back and pushing his arms outward in an unneeded stretch, Greg turned to face his location. He grinned behind his mask."Let''s do this. [Power Sprint]." Moving just above the speed limit for a school zone, Greg took off down the street, his body intermittently glowing a bright yellow as he headed towards Merchant territory. Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 3 Experience 100/1800
Health 230/230
Mana 130/130
Willpower 108/108
STR 16 SPD 14
VIT 13 INT 18
WIS 8(-80%) CHA 2(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Buff 3.2 Buff 3.2 As he ran several blocks past the Boardwalk, Greg began to enter a neighborhood that was as destitute as the Boardwalk was wealthy. The north part of the old ferry. While he had heard of this place, he had never actually been here before, no one really having a business with the ferry anymore leaving the place to become abandoned by the general population of the city apart from those desperate enough for a roof over their heads to sleep in the decrepit buildings that lined the area. That, and the Merchants. The gang of homeless, drug dealers and assorted thugs that didn''t fit in with the Empire or the ABB but wanted more legitimacy than any of the tiny street gangs that populated the city could provide had pounced on the place, quickly ensuring all knew that it was their territory. As the Merchants tended to be scattered, rarely having too large a large group of them in one place, all this meant to Greg was that he was bound to find a few here. Greg skidded to a stop near a bunch of half-demolished brownstones, a flickering orange light shining from outside of an alleyway catching his attention. As the yellow glow Creeping up against the wall, Greg slowly made his way around the building, creeping closer to the alley itself. As he reached the mouth of the alley, he poked his head in, blue eyes widening behind his mask as he spotted what exactly was making the flickering light. A fire? Greg raised an eyebrow. It actually was a fire. One that someone had lit inside of a tall metal trash can. It stood far from where Greg was, in the center of several alley paths, but just close enough that the light could reflect on this outer alley wall. Before Greg could ask himself who could possibly have lit it, several figures stepped into view. Eight of them, to be exact. Even without being too close to them, Greg could tell they were Merchants and they, without a doubt, were Merchants. Compared to the normal homeless people you saw around Brockton Bay, and there were plenty, members of the Archer''s Bridge Merchants had a particular style of hobo-chic that was very¡­ distinct from most others. Sparky told him something once, something he drew back up now. Homeless people don''t like being dirty. They''d take better if they could. Merchants, though, those fucks love looking like trash. "[Observe.]" The word fell from Greg''s mouth almost instinctively, eight pop-ups appearing simultaneously in his field of vision, his mind somehow connecting the names to the bodies nearly half a block away. Greg found himself smirking. "Easy as cake." "Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!" Greg''s feet pounded against the concrete, garbage and random plastic bags flying through the air as he rushed past them. His legs moved on automatic as his neck swiveled from side to side, frantically searching the dreary alleyways north of the Boardwalk for an alternate path. Anything. Anywhere. Just something he could use to get away. Or at the very least, hide and recover all his health. Seriously, where were all the waist-high fences, hiding spots or conveniently available handholds to climb buildings with? All Greg could think of, as he ran past another cutoff leading to a dead end, was that Brockton Bay needed to invest in better city planning. Or a renovation. Can you renovate a city? The idle thought passed through Greg''s head as he continued running away from his attackers, waiting for the protein bar he just ingested to work him all the way back to full health.
Health: 199/240 [PowerBar? Cookie Dough Protein Bar: +5 to HP every 5 seconds for 5 minutes]
"Fucking piece of shit!" "Skin the lil'' fuck!" "Cut his dick off!" "Fuckin'' catch the lil'' faggot first!" The sound of their angered shouts lit a fire under Greg and he kept moving, evading dumpsters and knocking over boxes to buy himself some much needed time. Casting a glance behind him, he saw the glint of a long, sharp weapon and he gulped nervously before facing forward again, sweat beginning to form on his brow. How in the frick did this happen? After observing all of the Merchants and noting that none of them were over Level 6 and their HP seemed low enough - considering only one of them had anything above 200 - that they wouldn''t be much trouble, Greg had put together a simple yet kickass plan. 1. Surprise attack one of them with an [Angry Straight] for that sweet, sweet [Critical Hit]. 2. Hit a few others while they were confused and send the rest running. 3. [Dash Straight] into them when they turn to run for more Crits. 4. Repeat Step 3 as needed. In hindsight, maybe jumping a bunch of Merchants at once wasn''t the best idea, after all. Although, he did use a surprise attack and surprise attacks were a pretty smart tactic to use, right? Of course, they are. That''s like Strategy 101. Surprise attacks were smart and a glowing yellow fist out of nowhere was kick-ass enough to ruin anyone''s day. It was a simple plan. Simple but effective. And it was, actually. Well¡­ kinda. The first guy went down in a spectacular [Critical Hit]. So did the second, third and fourth Merchant in his sights, none of them prepared for a shining fist to the face. Problem was, their buddies didn''t run. Second problem, they all had knives. Third problem, one had a giant fucking machete. Fourth and biggest fucking problem, they wouldn''t give him a second to let his HP regen get back up. Greg honestly hadn''t expected they''d fight back and especially not that hard. I mean, he was a cape, right? They saw his fist go all glowy and everything! They were supposed to run! This was a reversal of the natural order. He was the parahuman wolf on the hunt and they were the rabbits trying to survive his hunger. Rabbits weren''t supposed to fight nature! Or carry machetes. Who even carries a freaking machete? Where would you hide that? Well, he had an inventory to hide it but these guys didn''t have that excuse. Frankly, this whole situation wasn''t his fault. It was the Merchants'' fault for not doing what they were supposed to do. - 14 "Motherf-" Greg let out a shout of pain as something hard slammed into the back of his hood-covered skull, the sound of glass raining onto the concrete behind him only confirming what he thought it was. Stumbling forward, Greg caught himself before he wiped out into the garbage at his feet. He whipped around to face the four approaching thugs, a look of annoyance on his face.
Health: 232/240
"Good enough." Greg made a fist and dipped into a stance, yellow light already flashing into existence around his hand as he prepared himself. "[Dash Straight!] [Raging Combo!]" In a flash of yellow, he dashed forward ten meters in a literal second, his outstretched fist flying towards the chest of the closest Merchant thug. With an audible impact, Greg''s fist hit home, and he buried punches into the Merchant''s open chest, sending him flying back with one final hard strike. The unconscious thug slammed into one of his buddies, his friend catching him as he fell. Another Merchant, a bald black man wearing a shirt so dirty the original color was a mystery, swung at Greg. From the corner of his eye, Greg caught the flash of metal and jerked to the side, barely avoiding a switchblade to the face as the man''s arm passed over his shoulder. His fist slammed into the side of the thug''s jaw with a picture-perfect left hook, the strike staggering the man. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Greg made to press his advantage with a powerful [Angry Straight] only for the words to die on his lips with a cry of pain as something cut into the side of his arm. -36
[Moderate Bleeding] Debuff applied -5 HP every 5 seconds for the next minute.
Greg snapped his gaze to his side in time to see the Merchant with the machete about to swing his weapon again, trying his hardest to hack off his arm at the shoulder. Whipping to the side, Greg backpedaled to avoid the bladed weapon coming down on him. "Fuckin'' die!" "Nuh-uh!" Ducking the weapon, Greg struck the machete man in his neck with a wild swing, sending him stumbling back. "You firs- Fuck!" Greg''s taunt was cut short as he took a hard punch to the chest from the Merchant he had staggered earlier with a hook to the jaw. The drug dealer had jumped back into the fight, already recovered and swinging wildly at Greg''s chest. -10 -10 -12 -11 "Shit!" A hand to his chest, Greg swung wildly as he stumbled back into the alley wall only to take another heavy hit to the side of the head, his blind spot continuing to bite him in the butt. -15 "Goddamnit!" The blonde whirled around with a heavy uppercut, catching the Merchant at his back on the chin. "[Inventory: Bat!]" In Greg''s other hand, an aluminum bat appeared in a flash of blue. The Merchant''s eyes widened. Greg swung. The bat missed his target, the man''s chest, and instead clipped his elbow. Despite that, the hit was solid, the crack of metal on bone audible. "Aaaah!" The man visibly stumbled as he let out a scream, cradling his arm as he backpedaled. Greg took that as a cue to slam the bat hard into the side of his head before the Merchant could recover, sending him to the ground, his HP depleted. Hearing movement behind him, Greg whipped back around, swinging the bat in a wide arc to dissuade anyone who would try to attack him from behind. Why isn''t there a skill for Spidey-Sense or something? The machete-wielding Merchant had been creeping up behind Greg, not expecting that he would take care of his friend so quickly and, by the wide-eyed-gaze he had as he stared at what was in Greg''s hand, certainly not expecting Greg to pull out a bat out of literally nowhere. Next to him, the Merchant with the bald head and switchblade seemed to take a step back. Under his mask, Greg couldn''t hold back a grin as he stepped around the two thugs, both now obviously wary of him. "I''m gonna eat you rabbits like a hungry, hungry wolf." Their cautious expressions only grew confused at Greg''s non-sequitur, the one with the machete screwing up his face before replying, "What?" Greg blinked as he realized he had said that out loud, his face reddening beneath the mask. "Sh-shut up! Nothing!" Eyes narrowing at the Merchant with the giant knife, Greg screamed out, "[Power Sprint!]" Body flashing, Greg darted forward. He swung the bat out as hard as he could, slamming it into the thug''s chest. The machete flew from his hand as the thug was launched back, the hit sending him into a pile of trash bags, knocking down the entire pile and sending him crashing up against a dumpster. Greg grinned. "That''s what I call a grand slam!" The bald Merchant didn''t waste any time to appreciate Greg''s humor, instead choosing to lunge with his switchblade. Greg''s hand lashed out, the back of his wrist slamming into the thug''s leading hand and sending him off-course. [Moderate Bleeding] debuff removed. The Merchant''s lunge went wide, and Greg twisted, spinning to the side of the criminal and slamming the weapon into his ribs. "[Angry Straight!]" The bat glowed blue, visibly flashing for an instant, as it slammed into the Merchant''s side with an audible crack. Just like that, the last Merchant dropped to the ground. Greg let out a tired huff as he stared at the four unmoving bodies around him, feeling the drain on his Will for running for so long and using multiple skills one after the other like that. Doesn''t matter. Still won.
First Blood II: Even Bloodier 7/15 Merchants defeated.
+ 855 xp + $122.00 + Dangerous Machete + Cheap Switchblade x 2 + Pack of Red Apple? Cigarettes x 3
Abilities Level Up! Parry Lvl Up! 2¡ú3 Reflexes Lvl Up! 1¡ú3 Disarm Lvl Up! 1¡ú2 Resistance: Slashing Lvl Up! 3¡ú5 Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 6¡ú7
Skills Level Up! Angry Straight Lvl Up! 3¡ú5 Dash Straight Lvl Up! 1¡ú3 Raging Combo Lvl Up! 1¡ú2 Power Sprint Lvl Up! 5¡ú6
Skill Created! Weapon Charge Lv 1 Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Cost: 8 MP
New skill? Yes! Greg''s face lit up with a wide grin behind the mask, shaking his upper body in something of a victory dance. After a moment, he suddenly froze. Wait, seven out of fifteen? But I knocked out eig- Greg whipped around, glancing at the fallen Merchants around him. From each one, he noted the text above their heads. Donny Malko Lv 4 Merchant Blade 0/130 Mike "Mickey" O''Connor Lv 3 Merchant Blade 0/115 Ricardo Montez Lv 6 Merchant Hacker 2/160 Jose Villa Lv 5 Merchant Blade 0/130 Blue eyes widened, and Greg gasped. The thug scrambled into action as his head snapped up to face Greg, his breathing labored as the Merchant furiously pulled something from the pocket of his jeans. Gun! It looked old, that was Greg''s second thought, the mix of wood and metal easily visible in the guy''s hands. Also, it stood out as being slightly bigger than what he expected a gun to be. A hand cannon more than a gun, really. Before Greg could so much as even try to dodge, the shaky Merchant raised the revolver. He didn''t see it. How could he? After all, it was a bullet. A searing hot hunk of metal moving at Mach oh-my-god that could rip through car doors like scissors through paper. He heard it, though. A crack of thunder that made him flinch, the sound echoing off the alley walls as white smoke exploded outwards from the weapon. Searing pain tore through him as the bullet ripped through his chest, the force of the shot causing him to stumble backwards, his legs suddenly unable to handle his weight, as the slug slammed into him. -120
Health: 0/240
[Moderate Bleeding] Debuff applied -5 hp every 5 seconds for the next minute.
He felt himself falling back, the world disappearing in front of him as the edges of his vision began to darken. No. No. Noooo... Greg Veder hit the floor, eyes shut and and unmoving. Cutscene: Ricardo Montez The revolver had fallen from his hand about a minute ago, his wrist too fucked-up to hold on to the pound of metal. The recoil was another bitch and a half to deal with, the sudden force of it making him take a deep breath that hurt like everything in the world at once. It was a vise, gripping his chest and tightening even more with each short, raspy gasp he gave as his body struggled for air. I shot him. Despite all that, his hand still shook at his side, his finger twitching uncontrollably as it continued pulling at the trigger that wasn''t there. I shot him. The gun lay at his side, spent. He only had one shot. One bullet to make it count. Yesterday - or maybe two days ago, he didn''t fucking remember - he held up a convenience store with that gun... took every damn thing he could. Enough food for him and his boys for a good month and enough money to keep all eight of them in product for a while. Other than the change you made off dealin'', you had to provide for yourself as a Merchant. Skidmark didn''t do handouts. He had used five bullets. Five out of six of the last bullets he had left. Shot the clerk. One in the head. Served him right for trying to pull a gun on him when he thought he wasn''t looking. Shot two cops who showed up, the blue fucks making him waste two shots each before they went down in their own blood. Down to his last bullet and he uses it to waste some Wards wannabe fuck probably still in middle school. Ricardo fought to keep his eyes open, his gaze locked on the cape kid''s unmoving body. He had to be dead, right? Blinking, the lone conscious Merchant tried desperately to assure himself of that despite so much telling him otherwise. I shot him. His other hand twitched at his side, remembering how his machete had plunged deep into the boy''s shoulder. The kid had screamed as the edge cut into the side of his arm, blood spraying from the jagged wound. Yeah, the kid had definitely screamed. Once. After that, he just went back to the fight, throwing punches like nothing had happened. The kid didn''t even try to stop the bleeding. He didn''t even pay the wound any attention, using that same injured arm to punch him in the throat a moment later. He was stronger than he looked. Not too fast, but fast enough to be tricky. They hadn''t taken him too seriously at first, even after the kid had taken down four of their group with a surprise attack. The rest of them were surprised too, the young-sounding voice almost as big of a shock as the obvious powers the kid had thrown around. They almost booked it until they saw the kid, eyes nervous and wide as he waited for them to make their move. When they didn''t back down, the cape kid ran and they took off after him, smelling blood in the water. How fucking retarded. The kid let them chase him for a couple minutes and then jumped back to meet them, not even out of breath after sprinting for so long. That was their first clue something was wrong. Ricardo shivered, both from the cold of the night air and from remembering how the kid moved, taking a hit and then ignoring it a moment later to launch his own. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. It was like fighting a fucking Terminator. The gun had been his saving grace. He hadn''t wanted to really use it. I mean, cape or not, it was a fucking kid he was talking about. He just¡­ he didn''t know what else to do. A single shot, right through the chest, had sent the kid sprawling with blood splatter flying from his chest. Ricardo was surprised, shock overriding the pained expression on his face as the boy fell to the ground, completely still. At first, he had thought it hadn''t worked. Why would it? The kid had ignored knives and a machete tearing into him, none of them bothering him for more than a short moment. What difference would one bullet make? Yet over a minute later, the cape was as unmoving as he had been since he first fell. Ricardo had actually let out a relieved sigh, despite how much it hurt, when he realized that it was finally over. The Merchant took in another shaky breath, his chest screaming as he wheezed. Despite the uncomfortable position he was in, and the disgusting wetness that was liquid garbage seeping into his clothes and skin, he couldn''t find it in him to move. His chest stung with deep welts and bruises, forcing him to take shallow breaths that still managed to almost make him tear up in pain. His eyes slowly began to close, the dark hold of unconsciousness falling over him. Then, he heard it. Breathing, slow but steady. Brown eyes forced themselves open with tremendous effort, locking onto the only one that could have made a noise like that. A rush of panic hit him, the fear itself jolting him back into full consciousness. No. No. I shot him. The boy''s body began to twitch, heavy breathing audible from where he lay just a few meters away. No. Ricardo tried to stand, his arms trembling like a baby''s as he tried to push himself off the ground. The cape''s breathing came quicker, speeding up until he sounded like he was having a heart attack on the alley floor. It was too late, anyway. No. I shot him. I shot him! As if waking from a nightmare, the cape surged upwards to a sitting position, his body visibly trembling and eyes wide beneath his white mask as he heaved for breath. He gasped, a deep, trembling inhale of oxygen that Ricardo wished he could emulate without pain, and there was silence. A moment later, the night was filled with a gut-wrenching scream, not of pain but fear as the cape stared at his own bloody hands, his voice a testament to his fear. Frenzied blue eyes snapped to Ricardo''s. The Merchant desperately tried to crawl away as those eyes locked on to his, fear mixing in with anger as the cape stared at him. The kid jumped to his feet as if he hadn''t been shot, hand sweeping up the bat at his side without even looking. He rushed forward, still screaming fearfully as he swung the bat back over his head, the weapon gripped in his two gloved hands. Ricardo trembled in his slumped position, unable to move and unable to breathe. The Merchant closed his eyes. No. The bat came down. Buff 3.3 Buff 3.3 The sound of screaming stopped rather quickly. Greg just wasn''t sure how long it took. His grip loosened around the now-dented bat, the brushed aluminum stained with blood, hair and bits of grey matter that he did his best to ignore. He stood in front of the Merchant''s body, a collection of red and pinkish-gray splattering both the filthy exterior of the dumpster and his all-black clothing. Greg shuddered, a strange sense of calm overriding his growing nausea as he looked away from his handiwork.
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind. [Mindless Rage] negated by Gamer''s Mind. [Crippling Fear of Death] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Gamer''s Mind? The words hovered in his field of vision, reminding him of what had just happened. That actually does something? The Gamer''s Mind skill had hung in his skill tab since he had first gotten his powers less than a week ago. He hadn''t paid it much attention past the initial cursory glance, ignoring it much like he had Gamer''s Body. He didn''t really think much of either considering it was impossible to level them any further. If he had known¡­ Is this what this really does? He blinked, his chest rising slightly faster as his mind began to race with the implications. In the back of his mind, he felt the wave of calm wax slightly stronger in response. Masters me? My own powers Master me. It won''t let me think certain ways? Shaking his head, Greg stepped backwards, the bat dropping from his fingers and clattering noisily against the wall before settling on top of a pile of garbage. That''s¡­ not terrible, right? Greg hesitated, suddenly unsure of his own thoughts. I mean, I don''t mind¡­ much. The words sounded right inside his head despite Greg''s doubts, his mind wondering if that was him or just what his power wanted him to think. How¡­ how would I even know? For a moment, Greg''s eyes flickered from the menu back to the mutilated corpse slumped against a pile of torn garbage bags, a dumpster propping the body up. All thoughts of whatever Master effect his power could be puppeting him with were washed away as a surge of nausea hit him, the urge to vomit wrestling with the subtle yet overpowering calm that both comforted and unsettled him. I killed someone. Greg knew without a doubt that the Merchant was dead. With a Capital D. There was just no arguing the fact. Even ignoring the fact that his head was little more than pulp, - and Greg was disconcerted by how easy it was for him to actually do just that - the former Merchant was drastically different in a way that told Greg all he needed to know. Above his head¡­ Greg shook his head as he stared at what he had done, a pit of revulsion forming in his stomach. Above what remained of his head, the Merchant''s corpse had no name, no level and no health meter, meaning that for all intents and purposes, it was just another item or background object like the dumpster the corpse was slumped against. Unlike the rest of his friends still unconscious on the ground. Greg let out a low gasp as the wave of calm rose against his swelling emotions. His vision moved to the item lying next to the merchant''s body, the polished metal making it easy to spot. Greg took another step closer to it. "Ob- Obse¡­" Greg gulped, shuddering one more time.
You have recovered from a K.O. 20% Base Health recovered 20% Base Mana recovered 20% Base Willpower recovered -20% XP previously collected toward the next Level
Through a special action, you have unlocked Perks! Perks are power-up abilities, items or skills granted to the player upon performing a special action or bought by the player upon accruing enough Perk Points. 1 Perk point is gained every 5 levels and can be gained from special quests, fights and special achievements.
Perk Obtained! Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
First Blood II: Even Bloodier 8/15 Merchants defeated. + 250 XP, 500 XP (Permadeath Bonus) + $565 + .357 Bloody Magnum
Through surviving a near-death experience, you have gained 2 VIT. By unlocking a Perk before Level 5, you''ve gained 1 Perk Point.
Greg stumbled slightly as he read the description of that perk, leaning further back against the wall in a bid to keep himself standing as he tried to process the words. Zero HP? Near-death situation? Had he been that close to dying? Greg had assumed dipping below zero was an immediate death sentence, whatever power that was Gamer''s Body failing on his death. His continued existence proved that wrong, but still¡­ The fact that it said "survive" implied he had been far closer to dead than otherwise. The thought hung in Greg''s mind as he wrapped his arms around himself, the confirmation reminding him of the darkness that had subsumed his vision as he fell. "Holy¡­ holy sh¡­" I almost died. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. "HP?" His voice came out slightly shrill, not the simple cracking he was used to, tinged with a quiet terror.
Health: 71/230 [PowerBar? Cookie Dough Protein Bar: +5 to HP every 5 seconds for 2 minutes and 49 seconds]
Greg shook his head, letting out a sigh as he leaned further into the wall, hands twitching at his sides. The thought was terrifying in the worst ways, a step forward into a line of thinking Greg didn''t want to pursue. No. That¡­ that doesn''t make sense. I almost died? But I''m fine now. I''m¡­ fine. He blinked, his breathing somewhat heavy despite his lack of exertion. Right?
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind. [Crippling Fear of Death] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Frenzied eyes relaxed instantly and twitching fingers stilled, a sudden shift that must have been almost as strange to see from the outside as it was to experience. "That is still¡­" Greg let out an annoyed breath, "really frickin'' weird." Pulling himself from the alleyway wall, Greg rolled his shoulders back, stretching languidly as he stared at the gun still lying on the floor. A tired expression crossed his face and he reached down at his side, picking up the bloody, gore-stained bat and walked over to the dumpster. Lifting the bat with one hand, he gently touched the Merchant corpse with it, nudging the torso. After a moment, he stopped and simply stared at the body with an uncomfortable expression on his face. I did this. Greg blinked slightly, raising an eyebrow. My first dead body. As if to confirm that this entire experience was real, Greg poked at the body again. I thought seeing a dead body would be more fun than this. He tilted his head, pulling the bat back from his curious prodding. Maybe that''s only when you''re not the one that makes it. Greg stood up, casting another curious glance at the body before looking down at his bloodstained gloves and his own gore-covered body. Is this me? Or Is this The Gamer''s Mind? Greg wasn''t sure he wanted to know right now. What was worse, really? Him naturally not caring about killing someone or his power making him not care? "I''d say they''re pretty even-steven," Greg remarked to himself, a bemused smile on his face behind the mask as he let out a bitter chuckle. Part of him couldn''t help but feel relieved at the fact that he wasn''t in tears right now. The only problem with that was the rest of him had to wonder if that wasn''t also his power making him feel so grateful. "Both pretty messed up, really." "Yeah." An unfamiliar voice sounded off, shocking Greg with both its depth and clarity, somehow sounding like it was just behind his back. "This is one messed-up situation you got here." What the- Bat clenched tightly in both hands, Greg whipped around to the mouth of the alley to face whoever had just spoken. The teen''s eyes went from narrowed to resigned as he cast a glance at the figure in front of him, his body visibly slumping even as he held his weapon up. "Oh, fuck me. What now?" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 4 Experience 2534/3600
Health 96/250 (260)
Mana 130/130
Willpower 89/111
STR 16 SPD 14 (+1)
VIT 15 INT 18
WIS 8(-80%) CHA 2(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Perk Points: 1
Cash: $718.50
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Buff 3.4 Buff 3.4 The figure crossed his burly arms over an equally burly chest, pale flesh rippling with tight cords of muscle just beneath the skin. Even beneath his mask, he seemed to give off an air of confusion. "Something wrong?" Yet again, that deep voice seemed to carry, almost echoing in the alleyway. Greg considered the question. "Something wrong?" he echoed, humor evident in his tone. "Yeah, that''s what I said." The cape''s mouth tilted up at the side in a slight smile, visible below a partial face-mask. He tilted his head, his gaze clearly noting the gory figure that Greg stood next to. "After all, I see you got a little bit of a mess on your hands." Greg abruptly let out a snort of laughter, his hood falling off as his head dipped back. Said snort quickly turned into an uncontrolled high-pitched laugh at the absurdity of the statement, as well as who it was coming from.
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
"On my hands, yeah," Greg inhaled as the urge to laugh left him immediately. As he felt the calm return to him, he nodded slightly, eyes locked on to the cape. "I... I guess you could say that."
Health: 123/250 (PowerBar: +5 HP per 5 seconds for 1 minutes and 45 seconds) Will: 92/111
The cape stepped forward slightly, the chains around his pants jangling somewhat as he moved. His smile morphed into a vicious grin. "Don''t worry. That can happen sometimes when you''re taking out the trash." His grin widened enough to border on a grimace, causing Greg to blink at the sight. Taking out the trash? Who actually says that? Greg nodded slowly as he kept his eyes on the cape''s body, watching for any sudden movement. This was not someone he wanted to fight. At least not yet. His eyes widened as he realized the cape was patiently waiting for him to say something. Blinking, he hurriedly spat out, "I-I-I¡­ I guess so." "The name''s Stormti-" "I know who you are," Greg interrupted, words leaving his mouth in a rush. Greg really didn''t need the introduction, already knowing plenty about the cape in front of him. Stormtiger, like the majority of capes in the Bay, was a villain and a rather high-ranking one. One of Kaiser''s right-hand men in the E88, he was relatively popular on PHO but neither as well-known, feared or as dangerous as Hookwolf, Kaiser''s other right-hand. In fact, the only reason Greg knew so much about him was because his powers were kinda cool. After all, he was pretty much a discount Airbender. The cape tilted his head slightly, the smile under his white mask shifting to something much less predatory. "You''ve heard of me?" The hint of pride in his tone was more than a tad obvious. "What am I talking about? Of course you''ve heard of me." Now, it was super obvious.
Those Wacky Nazis Details: Survive an encounter with one of the Empire 88''s best. Success: Highly increased reputation with the Empire 88, +2500 XP, + 1 Stat Point Failure: Conscription into the Empire Bonus: Complete the quest without fighting
Are you fucking kidding me? "...Kinda hard not to," Greg replied, eyebrows shooting up at both the quest alert and the cape''s words. "I mean, I live in this city. I have the Internet. I just like to keep up-to-date on capes." "Well," The villain unfurled his arms and took a few steps forward into a ray of light, allowing Greg to note that buff was a bit of an understatement when describing Stormtiger. "It''s nice to meet a fan." Blue eyes widened behind his hockey mask as Greg processed the words, his shock powerful enough to make him take a step back. "A f¡­ fan? Wow¡­ uhh," Greg let out a hiss of air, one hand moving up to rub the back of his head as he tried to find something to say, "no offense but¡­ uhh, fan is a really, really strong word." Greg swallowed, nervous sweat forming under his mask as he waited for Stormtiger to say something. Stormtiger''s head tilted to the side, his arms moving to his sides. "Well, I just assumed¡­" he began, his voice tinged with slight confusion. "Assumed?" Greg echoed again, only to flinch the moment the word left his lips. Why do you keep interrupting him? Stormtiger let out a short bark of laughter. "Your hair, your eyes¡­ I only assumed you would be a fan of the Empire," Greg''s eyes widened, "and by extension, me." Greg blinked, surprised by the statement. Shocked as he was, his mouth simply said the first thing that came to mind. "Wow, that''s kinda racist." The warmth in Stormtiger''s smile dimmed, the tiger-masked cape gaining an intense look in his eyes as he took a few steps into the alley. "What?" the cape snarled, his voice little more than a growl. Frick on a stick. "Uhh¡­ well, the thing about that is¡­ uhh, what I meant to say was," Greg took a few nervous steps back, nearly stepping on a few downed Merchants in his hurry. "It''s just kinda weird that just ''cause I''m a tad Aryan-looking, you assume I''m down with the Empire and the ''Hey Hitler'' and all that." There was silence between them for a good five seconds as Stormtiger simply stared at the younger cape. Sensing that he may have gone too far in the wrong direction, Greg tried to pull back his statement. "N-n-not that I don''t think you guys aren''t cool or anything, cool names, cool costumes, really cool powers, especially you, Mr. Tiger. Just... wow, you know, real awesome air-bending and stuff, right?" Blinking furiously, Greg tried to get his thoughts in one place. "Wow, okay, so not that I''m not in awe of your, you know, skills, It''s j-j-just¡­ that¡­ uhh¡­ the whole Nazi shtick is kinda¡­ you know... " Greg''s sentence trailed off as he noticed that Stormtiger''s muscles seemed to tense, the Nazi cape''s fingers twitching slightly as they curled inwards. Think of something, you idiot. Greg shook his head before continuing again, words flying out in a flurry. "I mean, you see, I''m a fan of 80''s music, I''m a fan of Frosted Flakes cereal. It doesn''t mean I still d-d-don''t listen to other stuff, you know? Or eat other b-breakfast foods, right?" What are you saying? Shut up! After a few tense moments, Stormtiger let out a sort of grunt, folding his muscular arms over his chest again. "Well, fan or not, it''s always good to meet a cape that''s friendly toward the Empire, especially one who shares the same¡­" his head tilted slightly, gaze moving over the field of fallen Merchants, "understandings about the trash infesting this city." Unconsciously, Greg''s fingers curled tighter around the handle of the bat. "Understandings? If you mean the Merchants, then yeah, not a fan." Underneath his breath, Greg let out a whispered "[Observe.]" Stormtiger Lv ? HP: 450/450 "So, kid, you got a name?" The bare-chested cape asked as he moved forward, stepping just a bit closer to Greg while wearing that same feral grin. Greg, in turn, scrambled backward, never lowering the bat in his hands or taking his eyes off Stormtiger. "A name? Not.. really." His voice came out in a squeak even as he did his best to stand his ground. "Relax, kid, " Stormtiger let out a belly laugh, the sound almost making Greg jump. "I can''t even see your face and I can tell you''re damn near about to piss yourself. I''m not gonna hurt you." He let out another booming burst of laughter, the loud sound forcing another flinch out of Greg. Right next to my ear, again! He has to be doing that on purpose! Rather than say that, Greg replied with a simple, "Really?" "Really." Stormtiger gestured at the headless corpse with his chin, the movement so subtle Greg almost didn''t notice it. "You might be green as all hell but you got a killer instinct." He flashed Greg a grin again, this one far more predatory than the last. "If you weren''t one of us, I''d have to take care of someone like that before they make trouble." One of us? Greg blinked, nearly taking another step back as he realized what the older cape meant. Oh. Ohhh. Huh, I''ve never been so happy to be white. He blinked again. Does that make me racist? Unaware of Greg''s internal dilemma, Stormtiger gave Greg a wink before turning his gaze to the three remaining Merchants with their heads intact. "No one really heads down here other than Merchants but I wouldn''t recommend hanging around just in case, especially after all this..." The cape let out a deep chuckle before gesturing towards the headless corpse still slumped against the dumpster. "I''d take care of that if you don''t want the Protectorate on your ass." Greg spared a glance at the body before pursing his lips beneath his mask. I mean, it is an object now, right? Not a person. He turned back to Stormtiger. "I¡­ think I have something for that." "Do you, know?" There was that grin again, stretching wider than it really should. "Well then, I don''t have anything else to do here." Without warning, Stormtiger leaped up and over Greg''s head, forcing the younger cape to duck in fright a sudden burst of wind kicked up in the alley. Whipping around, Greg''s mouth dropped behind his mask as he saw Stormtiger''s motions. Twisting mid-jump, the cape''s feet made contact with one side of the alley wall before kicking off as a miniature tornado around his feet propelled him further. In a burst of motion and a flurry of air around his legs, he bounced off the alley walls one by one like some kind of¡­ Nazi ninja. In no time at all, Stormtiger had landed gracefully on top of the building to the right of Greg. The cape brought two fingers to his head, giving Greg a sort of weak salute and flashing him another grin. "See ya, newbie. I''ll let you off easy this time but a friendly warning; Next time, I''m gonna make you an offer. I think you know what it is. It''d be in your best interests to take it." Just like that, the cape vanished over the mouth of the roof, the sound of rushing wind a sign of his exit. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. After a few long moments, Greg let out a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping as he lowered his bat. "That guy was such a drama queen. I''ll make you an offer," Greg mocked, rolling his eyes. "I''ll make you an offer. My foot. In your face. I''ll make you take that. Stupid Nazi Ninja."
Quest Success! "Those Wacky Nazis" Completed! Gained 2500 XP. Gained 1 Stat Point Bonus Objective Completed: + 1 Stat Point, + Skill
By using words to resolve a potentially dangerous situation, you have earned 1 CHA.
Skill Obtained! Minor Aerokinesis All the power of a summer breeze! Exert the force of a light breeze over a range of 5 meters. (5 mph) Cost: 5 mp per second of sustained use
Level Up! You are now Level 5. You gained 5 Stat Points. You gained 1 Perk Point
Welcome to Level Five Every five levels, you will be granted five stat points as opposed to the usual two. You will also be granted a perk point. As you are now Level Five, you will be granted access to Titles. Titles can increase your stats in certain ways as well as grant you temporary perks, skills or abilities. You can switch out a title during any non-combat situation.
Titles: None Earned
"Oh, thank God," Greg swallowed thickly, nodding his head as he closed his eyes. "A level up, a new skill and a buttload of stat points. No premium loot box could compare. Thank you, Gamer God, up in your Gamer Heaven, for granting me this Gamer Goodness. In any game of any genre, buff me with thy glory. Grant me plus one to all attributes, as I pwn in thine holy name. GG no re, Amen." "Now, let''s get this over with." Opening his eyes, Greg grinned widely under his mask. "Stats." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 5 Experience 1434/6180
Health 196/250 (260)
Mana 130/130
Willpower 114/114
STR 16 SPD 14 (+1)
VIT 15 INT 18
WIS 8(-80%) CHA 3(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 7
Perk Points: 1
Cash: $718.50
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Greg nodded, raising a hand to his chin. "Mmmmhmmm. Okay, fuck WIS and CHA. Bullshit stat modifiers make them a sunk cost anyway." Scratching his chin, Greg raised a hand as he began to mentally calculate what he was looking at. "Okay, I can easily train VIT so fuuuuck that, too," he continued with a flourish of his finger. "SPD, oooh, SPD looks good but I was way faster than those Merchants, anyway. Plus, I have Power Sprint so¡­ that leaves INT and STR. INT¡­ yeah, " Greg nodded to himself. "Can''t really do much with INT right now. I can probably study harder stuff to level INT faster anyway." Other than the new Aerokinesis skill he got from not getting murdered by Stormtiger and that Weapon Charge one from earlier, Greg didn''t really see what use he had for more MP right now. On the other hand, more MP meant he could level that Aerokinesis skill faster and¡­ Being an airbender does sound pretty dang cool. So, yeah. His eyes fell back on STR, a grin still strong on his face. "You, my little buddy, are getting the biggest bonus. Okay, I have fourteen points so how about¡­ eight to STR, three to SPD and three to INT?"
Are you sure about this point allocation? [Yes] [No]
"Yes."
Stat points allocated. +8 STR +3 SPD +3 INT
Greg shuddered slightly, his body overcome by a tingling sensation as a flash of blue light emanated from him for an instant. "...Ugh, super weird." Greg glanced down at his free arm, bending it forward as he flexed. He curled the other arm, lifting the suddenly much lighter bat and giving it a test swing. "Wow, I feel waystronger. Holy crap, I can see a bicep!" Greg flexed again, feeling brand-new muscle where there was little before. His arms weren''t exactly bulging with muscle but the gains were¡­ well, they were visible, that''s for sure. He was still the same size and everything and he hadn''t really bulked up or out, but the definition was definitely visible. "Wow, if this is 24 STR, what the heck is 100 gonna be like?" With a grin, Greg looked back up at the screen, "Let''s get on with it, then. Perks."
Perks Acrobatics Lv 1 [Ability] Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Cost: 1 Perk Point Danger Sense (0/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Cost: 1 Perk Point Darkvision Lv Max [Skill] It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Cost: 1 Perk Point Growing Boy Lv Max [Ability] It''s just a little snack. All food and drink items double in recovery capability and extend recovery time. Cost: 2 Perk Points Lifegiver (0/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Cost: 1 Perk Point Developed Mind (0/10) [Ranked Ability] Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Cost: 1 Perk Point Growing Will (0/10) [Ranked Ability] Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Cost: 1 Perk Point Pulling Out All The Stops (0/10) [Ranked Skill] Go beyond the limits... Limit Break! For 1 minute, your Will and MP is unlimited. However, your HP drops to 0 after exactly sixty seconds. Cost: 2 Perk Points
Blinking in surprise, Greg stepped back, unsure of what to choose. "Oooookay. I have two points and a buttload of perks to choose from." As his eyes roamed the list again, Greg found himself with nothing to say, overwhelmed by the multitude of choices in front of him. "Maybe I''ll just¡­ take care of this later." Closing the screen, Greg turned to face his current problem. He stared at the headless body, the thing still splattered with pieces of brain, skull and blood, much like his own body. "Now, let''s see if this works." A pensive frown formed on his face behind his hockey mask as he cast another glance down at the dead body. Thank Gamer God for Gamer''s Mind. "Inventory." Buff 3.5 Buff 3.5 "I just need you to be honest with me, sweetheart." Greg held back a groan as he stood in the foyer, the feeling of damp clothing pressing against his chest another annoyance to add to his ever-growing list. "Mom, that''s the third time you''ve said that already." Susan nodded, her arms crossed as she sat on the couch armrest. "Yes, I might have, but you know why." Greg''s gaze shifted, moving away from his mom''s eyes to focus on her mouth. "No," he lied, the word sliding out much easier without eye contact. "No, Mom, I don''t." "Sweetie," his mother''s tone shifted almost imperceptibly. "I just want to know what you were doing this morning." Still avoiding eye contact, Greg raised a hand to scratch the side of his face, the action belying his nervousness. "I already told you." "And I already told you," Susan retorted, the soft tone laced with the brittle edge she always used when trying not to seem angry, "I don''t believe that you woke up at 6 am just to go for a run,Greg." The fingers of her hand tapped out a steady beat on an arm. Greg frowned. "Mom, i don''t know what you want me to say." He pulled at the sleeve of his long-sleeved white shirt with his other hand, the sweat-covered fabric clinging uncomfortably to his skin. "What?" Susan made a frustrated gasping sound, as if trying to draw breath but hesitating. "I want you to say the truth, Greg." She rose to her feet, her body leaving the armrest of the couch to stand almost level with her son. Greg took a deep breath through his nostrils, tipping his head back to further avoid looking his mom right in the eyes. Lying was hard enough when it came to his mom. Doing it with eye contact was asking for a miracle. All that considered, he couldn''t exactly give his mom the truth. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The events of last night¡­ this morning¡­ a few hours ago were simply insane, the climax of the night being fucking Stormtiger of all people showing up. Compared to everything before the Nazi Airbender showed up, the rest of the night was relatively calm. Of course, he went hunting for seven more Merchants. He did have a quest to complete. Insane night or not, he wasn''t going to just ignore an easy six-thousand xp. He wasn''t stupid. Finding any more Merchants was the real problem. While they were the most prolific gang in the Bay, they weren''t exactly the most obvious. He couldn''t exactly keep an eye out for their gang colors - purple and black -, because as disorganized as the Merchants tended to be, they were rarely seen wearing them. After a couple hours of searching, enough time for him to finally decide which perks he wanted, he finally managed to take down a few more individual Merchants. With the boosts to his stats and liberal uses of his skills, the rest he found went down rather quickly. Surprise attacks were always useful, after all. By the time 5:55 had rolled around, he had just finished [Weapon Charge]-ing his bat to bash the last one in the ribs, plunging the thug''s HP to 0. By themselves, the Merchants gave up around 185 XP each and 15 bucks each, bringing him one-third of the way to level six (+ 1295 XP, + $105). Greg knew that upon completing the mission, he''d be bound to hit the next level but what ended up happening was a surprise and a half.
Quest Success! "First Blood II: Even Bloodier" Completed! Gained 6500 XP. Gained 1 Stat Point Bonus Objective Completed: +6500 XP, + 1 Stat Point
Level Up x2! You are now Level 7 You gained 4 stat points.
With the bonus added on top of the XP he got from completing the quest, he shot right past level six as well as the threshold for level seven. The increases to his skills after everything was said and done were just icing on the cake (+2 Reflexes, + 2 Slashing Resistance, + 1 Piercing Resistance, + 1 Blunt Force Resistance, +2 Cold Resistance, + 2 Weapon Charge, + 1 Angry Straight). However, that happy mood didn''t really last all that long once he realized exactly what the time was, the knowledge making him wince as soon as he remembered his mom''s habit of waking up shortly after six AM. Running home using the main streets would get him home much faster but that wasn''t really an option, considering that the morning commute had already started. Greg didn''t really feel like getting pulled over by Armsmaster for suspicious activity, especially considering his clothes still had blood all over them. With several [Equip]s and [Unequip]s, Greg put away his combat gear and his bat, replacing them with a white long-sleeved shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants and white running shoes. That done, he began running home, taking special care to avoid any main streets. Within an hour, he had made it home, only to face his mom in a nightgown on the other side of the door, a scowl on her face. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Mom," Greg began again, letting out a slight whine with the word. "I don''t know what you want me to say. I told you, I''ve been running since six this morning. I didn''t feel like the treadmill would do me much good, so I decided to go out for a workout." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. "Greg¡­" Susan sighed, raising a hand to her face to massage the bridge of her nose, "I really don''t know how you expect me to believe that. You never just go outside. That''s just¡­ not you." "Mom, look." Without hesitating, Greg peeled the sweat-covered shirt from his body, leaving his chest bare. "Does this look like I''m lying?" "Oh¡­" The scowl fell from her face, replaced by a look of shock as she stared at Greg''s stomach. "Oh my goodness, Greg." "You can''t say that I haven''t been working out." Greg flashed his mom a weak smile, stretching his arms out wide to offer an unobstructed view of his chest. The added points from last night had only served to enhance the appearance of his body, adding another layer of definition to what was once an unimpressive torso. "You''ve seen me working out every day, right?" Susan blinked. "I¡­ yes. I just¡­ I didn''t¡­ I didn''t know¡­" Greg watched as his mother closed her mouth, her head tilting to the side as if trying to resolve some incredible puzzle. "...how?" "I don''t know. I just started working out recently and my body just¡­ changed, I guess." Greg shrugged, letting the sweaty shirt in his hand drop to the floor. "You always said I was a late bloomer. Just like you." The grin on his face was only partly faked, Greg simply happy to have a reason to show off. "I guess it just started hitting me." "So¡­ the fighting, the girls¡­" Susan trailed off, a pained look on her face. "The working out," Greg added with a nod. "...yes. The nonstop working out," Susan shook her head as she sat down on the armrest again. "Why? Why the working out anyway? It''s all so¡­ sudden. You''re perfectly fine just the way you are." Oh boy. "I''ve just¡­ you know, been thinking of trying out for the football team," Greg replied with a shrug, glancing down at his feet as he spoke. "The f¡­ The football team?" Susan''s hand went to her chest, her pained expression becoming slightly forlorn. "Maybe¡­ uhh¡­ maybe¡­" He scratched the side of his face again, keeping his gaze away from his mother''s. "Maybe try out for quarterback, I dunno." "Like your father?" "Um, well," Greg blinked at the sudden retort, surprised at the speed of his mother''s response. "Not really. I didn''t exactly think of Dad when I had the idea." His mind honestly hadn''t even gone to his father, the man the farthest thing from his mind most days. Even when his dad was around, he had long given up trying to get his son interested in sports. "Football¡­ all this," His mom''s gaze visibly dropped to his chest again, that look of pained dismay still present. "I''m glad that you found something new. I just¡­ I don''t know what to say, Greg." "Umm, Mom?" Greg''s grin dimmed slightly, confused by his mother''s reaction. "Something wrong? You''re acting like you''re sad or... something." He stepped away from the door, taking a step closer when his mother hesitated to respond. "Mom?" "No!" Susan let out a gasp and quickly stood up, advancing towards her son. Arms spread out wide, she engulfed him in a tight hug. "No, Greg. Not at all." Okaaaaaay, that was unexpected. Greg blinked as his mother squeezed him even tighter as the hug went on, seemingly unwilling to let go. "Mom?" His mother didn''t reply, instead cupping the back of his head with a single hand and pulling him in even tighter. "I''m sorry, sweetie. I¡­ was so hard on you and¡­" Greg heard a sniffle from his mom as she paused, "...and you''re just changing and growing and¡­ I''m so sorry." "Mom, are¡­ are you okay?" Greg replied. His hand came down in a repeated, jerky movement as Greg did his best to pat his mother on the back. This wasn''t the first time he''d done it. In fact, a few years ago, it was almost routine for him to calm down his crying mom but doing it while lying¡­ that was new. "I''m¡­," Susan inhaled, pulling back from her son just enough to look him in the eye, "I should be the one asking you that. I yelled at you, I punished you, I took away your toys..." A hand rose up to wipe at her wet eyes. "I''ve been so terrible. Are you okay, sweetie?" I killed someone. I think I''m okay with killing people. I think I died. These thoughts and more raced through his head but Greg knew better than to give them a voice. Instead, he flashed his mother a smile. "Honestly, I," Greg shrugged, the smile on his face becoming slightly sincerer, "I feel fine." How messed up is it that that is the first honest thing I''ve said this morning? Susan pulled him back into a hug again, her head resting on his shoulder and vice versa. "You don''t know how happy I am to hear that." For a long moment, she was silent, content to hug her son. Greg was just happy that there were no more awkward questions to dodge. Then, head still on her son''s shoulder, Susan spoke. "Sweetie?" "Yeah, mom?" "Are you on steroids?" Pulling back, Greg gave his mom a look. "Mom!" "Just a random thought. You don''t have to answer, of course." Susan shook her head, letting go of her son. She patted Greg''s cheek with one hand before turning around and heading toward the kitchen. Steroids, really? Greg stared at his mom''s retreating back, a befuddled expression on his face. After a moment, he flexed an arm and shrugged, nodding slowly. Honestly, I can see where she''s coming from. As Susan reached the threshold to the kitchen, her hand gripped the doorway and she looked back over her shoulder at her son. Like before, her gaze fell to his bare chest. She let out an audible sigh before speaking again. "Greg, sweetheart, not that I think you are doping, or whatever it''s called, but you didn''t actually give me an answer." "Mom!" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 35/14520
Health 295/295
Mana 165/165
Willpower 125/125
STR 24 SPD 17 (+18)
VIT 15 INT 21
WIS 8(-80%) CHA 3(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $826.00
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Cutscene: Air is the Worst Element Cutscene: Air is the Worst Element Thursday, Mar 24, 2011 7:10 AM Greg let out a long shuddering sigh as he stepped out of the shower, the ice-cold water clinging to his skin making him tremble.
Cold Resistance Lv Up! 5¡ú6
Ducking into the shower had been his first thought as soon as his mom finished grilling him about his potential use of steroids. Then that conversation had led to questions of whether or not he was getting testosterone injections, something he honestly had no idea existed. Shortly after that, he excused himself to go take a shower. It had been in that shower itself that an incredible idea had come to him. Although, in hindsight, maybe taking a cold shower simply to level a minor ability wasn''t the best idea he''d had. Still, he wouldn''t call it a bad idea. Greg shivered again, his hands clasping his sides as the frigid liquid chilled him to the bone. Okay, not exactly a good idea either. Never again. As he took another step out the stall, Greg reached for his towel on the wall only to feel nothing but air in his grasp. He glanced over at the towel rack, only to wince as he saw it empty. Did I not give Mom my laundry?Letting out a sigh, he slapped his palm to his forehead. "I didn''t give Mom my laundry." He sighed once more. "Frick on a stick, what am I supposed to do now?" Greg glanced at the mirror and couldn''t resist snickering as he saw himself clutching his body, huddled in on himself as he shuddered for warmth like a sheep without wool. "I l-l-l-look ridiculous," he muttered, laughing as he continued to tremble. "G-guess I''ll have to air dry, huh?" A moment later, the blond teen stopped laughing, suddenly struck by an idea. "That''s it! Air dry!" Grinning, he snapped his fingers. "Goddamn, Greg, you''re a genius. Never change, Veder. The world needs your gifts." Facing the unfogged mirror, Greg did his best to stand perfectly still, his eyes tracking a few water droplets as they trailed down his now-toned chest. "Let''s do this." Greg raised both hands up to his chest and let out a slow breath. "Aerokinesis." Instantly, Greg felt a change. He gasped, taking a few steps back out of pure shock, blinking as the feeling hit him out of nowhere. A cool, steady pulsing that started in his chest but seemed to spread throughout his body, almost like a¡­ like a¡­ A second heartbeat... but cold. He grimaced, mulling over the sensation. Huh, so that''s what using "mana" feels like, huh? Greg thought to himself, eyes wide. He glanced at himself in the mirror, big blue eyes staring back at him. The experience was new to Greg, his first time using mana in a calm environment. Let''s do that again. Greg let out a long breath and stared at his hands, directing his palms toward the mirror. "Aerokinesis." Again, the feeling suffused him, this time much more powerful, almost like being dunked in a pool of water but¡­ not exactly. He could feel something strange in his hands, the sensation seemingly coiling around his fingertips and pooling in his palms. "Okay, let''s try this then." Guided by what he could only call instinct, Greg stretched out his hands and pushed. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. There was no actual physical movement involved, simply a mental command, but it worked all the same. A weak burst of wind surged from his hands, blowing into his face and hair with the force of¡­ Huh, so this a summer breeze. Greg grimaced as his hands blew cool air into his face, the wind itself barely strong enough to do more than rustle his hair. Wow, I''m so impressed. So impressed I could fucking die. Scoffing at the weakness of the power, Greg shook his head slightly. Lame.
Skill Level Up! Minor Aerokinesis Lv 2 All the power of a summer breeze Exert the force of a gentle breeze over a range of 5 meters. (10 mph) Cost: 6 mp per second of sustained use
The instant the pop-up appeared, the stream coming from his hands doubled in power, blowing his hair back and pushing droplets of water away from his face. Greg blinked at the sudden burst, surprised by how quickly the skill leveled up. Wow, 5 mph to 10 mph just like that, huh? Greg stood in front of the mirror reading the pop-up for a few moments more as if trying to figure out a puzzle. Wait, this thing says ''Exert the force of a gentle breeze over a range of five meters'' but it doesn''t say anything about using my hands, though. He raised an eyebrow, a finger coming to his chin. Maybe¡­ Clenching his fists, Greg tried to grab hold of the weird airy feeling he could feel in his palms and push it out. For a few seconds, he stood there, teeth gritted as he tried to make the air move. Come on. His mouth opened in a soundless snarl, teeth on display, as he tried to push the air from his palms to the rest of his body. "Come on!" For a moment, Greg gasped, his expression brightening as he felt the air drift up from around his palms to the rest of his arms. Water flew off his arms and chest, splattering against the walls and floor as they blown away by the sudden rise of wind. "Yes!" The moment the word left Greg''s lips, the stream of air snapped back to his hands, the stream of wind dissipating around his forearms instantly. In the same moment, wind surged around his palms far more intensely than before, nearly pushing his open hands back with the raw force of it, the twin streams of air blowing harmlessly against the bathroom mirror. "No!"
Minor Aerokinesis Lv 3 All the power of a summer breeze Exert the force of a gentle breeze over a range of 5 meters. (20 mph) Cost: 7 mp per second of sustained use
Mana: 81/165
"What the frick is this?" Greg pouted, annoyed by how quickly the control over his new skill vanished. With an idle thought, Greg pulled back the energy from his palms, the aerokinesis dissipating harmlessly. "Already at 80 MP, too. Maybe I should have gotten that advanced mind perk instead." Greg clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes in annoyance at his new skill. "Just a load of crap. I was trying for¡­ well, something else. Something cooler. I can''t even send people flying with this." Letting out an annoyed sigh, Greg pushed his thoughts of master airbending to the side, deciding to work on making his new skill actually usable in a fight. "TFW no awesome magic tattoo monk skillz from the get-go." Scooping up his dirty clothes from the floor, Greg shook his head as he threw them in the hamper. As his hand curled around the doorknob, the blond frowned, letting out a slight groan as he realized he was still sans towel. "First, I get shot, then I get brain all over my ass-kicking outfit, and now I don''t have a towel," Greg muttered to himself, still nude as the day he was born. "Not my day." Cutscene: Model Friendship Cutscene: Model Friendship Winslow High School Friday, March 25, 2011 Second Lunch Period 11:55 AM "So, you weren''t joking?" Sparky vocalized, his voice raised as he tried to make himself heard over the ambient din that was Winslow. "Nope." "You actually made out with Barnes?" Brown hair threatened to fall into his eyes as he leaned forward, staring right into his friend''s face. "Like, no joke? Full on tongue-wrestling." "Yeah, Sparks." Greg shot his friend a grin as the two of them walked towards the cafeteria among a mob of other students. Biology had just let out, the class itself netting Greg +1 to INT and + 3 to his Anatomy skill. The two of them were headed towards their lunch period of the day, stomachs ready for the greasy mess that Winslow considered food for growing teenagers. "Wow," Sparky''s eyes widened slightly. "That''s¡­ that''s actually impressive. Props, brah." "Thanks," Greg replied. "I honestly didn''t do anything, though." "I mean, I don''t doubt that. You have like no game whatsoever," Sparky chuckled slightly, "I''m just honestly surprised Barnes didn''t chew you up and spit you out." The brown-skinned teen smirked at Greg as he finished speaking, obviously waiting for a reaction. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Greg laughed for a few moments more before blinking, his expression becoming one of clear confusion. "I¡­" Greg blinked. "I don''t get it." Sparky shot him a look. "You know¡­ ''cause she''s a model." "Not¡­ getting the joke here." The beanie-wearing teen blinked, mouth opening slightly. "Chew you up and spit you out? Like, vomit." "Mmmm, yeah," Greg shook his head, raising an eyebrow. "Still nothing." Sparky''s mouth snapped shut. "How do you not get the joke? Models throw up. Everyone knows this." "Ohhhh," Greg''s eyebrows rose in understanding as his mouth formed an "o". "Wasn''t that good of a joke. Maybe you should just let me be the funny one." The look on Sparky''s face was almost indescribable, his mouth flat and eyes expressionless apart from a single twitching eyelid. Shaking his head, the mixed teenager quickened his pace, turning his back on his occasionally-annoying best friend as he slipped through the less densely packed crowd in front of him. "Sparky?" Greg called out, the mob around him much tighter than it had been for his friend, preventing him from catching up. "Sparky, wait up! You jerk!" "I can''t even look at you right now, G," Sparky called out, not even bothering to look back. "See you in the lunch line!" "Sparky!" When his friend didn''t even bother to slow down or even turn around, Greg shook his head in annoyance. "This is why you suck, by the way!" Buff 3.6 Winslow High School Friday, March 25, 2011 Second Lunch Period 12:05 PM "Sparky, you don''t understand." Greg swung a leg over the bench, placing his food on the table. He dropped himself onto the bench unceremoniously, an elbow landing dangerously close to his food. "You really don''t." Across from him, a long-haired brunette boy wearing a beanie and an ACDC shirt dropped onto the steel cafeteria bench, his snack-laden tray hitting the table between them with much less force. Axel "Sparky" Ramon had been a constant in Greg''s daily Winslow grind since freshman year, the laid-back snarkiness of the mixed teen a counter to his own nervous energy. It was the third lunch wave, the forty minutes out of the day that the school system graciously allowed it''s students to buy the unhealthy, overcooked, grease-filled dross they called food. As expected, the cafeteria was packed and as loud as ever, which forced Greg to speak slightly louder or have his voice buried by the ever-present sound of other people that filled Winslow. "I think I do." Sparky brushed away his bangs, tucking back a strand that had gotten into his eyes. "You think so?" "Duh." His friend popped a fry into his mouth, casting Greg a glance with half-closed eyes as he chewed. "You think you love her or whatever," he continued with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "You obviously don''t know shit." "No, seriously, Sparky." "No, seriously, G," Sparky shot back, a sigh on his lips. "I''m putting it at 99.9% odds that you''re just thinking with your dick." "I think about her all the time." "With. Your. Dick." "No." Greg shook his head, smiling over at Emma where she sat, a large round table near the back of the cafeteria. His smile dimmed slightly at the sight of Sophia next to her but Greg ignored the slight burst of annoyance he felt, focusing again on the redhead. "I think we could really work out." "Mmhmm. You said the same thing about Tara." "Taylor," Greg interjected quickly, reminding his friend for the hundredth time. "Whatever. I honestly don''t care." Sparky rolled his eyes languidly, a fry halfway to his mouth. "I don''t like her either. Look, you felt the same way about¡­ Glasses McLockerGirl and now Emma''s your new hot topic." "That''s¡­" Greg frowned, glancing down at his hands as they lay flat on the table. "That''s not true. Taylor¡­ I don''t think I ever had a chance with her. She never really tried to talk back to me. I honestly don''t think she likes me that much," Greg admitted bitterly. "Maybe staying friends with her is for the best." Sparky''s eyebrows rose for a quick moment as he snorted. "Yeah, sure, friends. With someone who you know doesn''t like you that much. Ugh, I wish I had half your optimism, G-Man." The long-haired teen shook his head before glancing back down at his tray. "I''ve been trying to tell you to get over Locker Girl since last year but all it took was Barnes in a low-cut t-shirt to change your mind." Greg blinked, the image of what Emma wore that Tuesday rushing back. "How''d you know it was low-cut?" "Come on, G," Sparky shot him a bored look, as if Greg had just asked him to help him solve 2 + 2. "Do girls like Barnes wear anything else?" The blond waved off his friend''s statement, his points already ignored in Greg''s mind. "Sparky," Greg replied with a sigh, "You really don''t get it. I think she might be the one." "The one? Barnes?" "Yeah, Emma. There''s something about her," Greg dropped his chin on the back of his upraised hand, tilting his head to stare over at the girl who had caught his attention. "I just can''t describe it." "Mmm," Sparky raised an eyebrow. "Tits." Another fry flew into his mouth as he spoke the word, his teeth crunching down as he finished speaking, punctuating his poignant and well thought-out response with the loud mastication of a deep-fried potato product. Rather than deny the point, Greg shrugged, a slightly pained look on his face. "I mean¡­ yeah, kinda¡­ but there''s more." "Mmmm," Sparky didn''t even raise his head from his tray as he spoke. "Of course there is, buddy. I believe you." Greg blinked, barely catching the sarcasm. "I''m being honest here." "And I''m eating here." "Sparky," the blond whined, "Come on. I thought you were my bro." "You want my help?" The teen in question blinked tiredly at Greg, the side of his face resting on an upraised palm. "You ready for advice that can help a scrub like you wearing," Sparky glanced at Greg''s hoodie, a red top that literally spelled out "Nerd" using the periodic table, "whatever that isget with a literal fucking model?" Greg sat up, eyes wide as the sarcasm flew over his head this time. "Yeah!" "Alright, here''s my advice. Get up off your pasty white ass, go over there," Fry in hand, Sparky gestured towards where Emma sat, "and ask that girl who''s waaaaay out of your league on a date." His piece said, the mixed teen leaned back slightly, rolling his eyes. "Go ahead and see how that works out for ya." "Got it, Sparky!" Greg replied, grinning brightly. "I can always count on you!" "Yeah, I know." Tired eyes snapped to attention, widening in shock as Sparky processed Greg''s response. "...wait, what?" Mind already made up, Greg shot up from his seat, leaving his tray behind, and began making his way towards the back of the cafeteria, weaving past various tables full of gang cliques and wannabe skinheads. As he approached the farthest wall of the cafeteria, several eyes fell on him. The loud din of chattering girls turned to shocked whispers as he approached a set of round tables more and more girls turned to face him, surprise the expression on most of their faces. Emma''s own eyes were slightly widened but even she didn''t seem all too surprised from where she sat. Madison, a bottle of water halfway to her lips, just looked confused. Sophia, on the other hand, simply frowned as she kept her eyes locked onto the blonde teen walking towards them. Before Greg could say anything, one of the girls stood up from the table, hands on her hips as she stared down the approaching blond. Greg found himself drawing a blank when it came to putting a name to her face even though he was pretty sure he had more than one class with her. "What are you doing here, Greg?" The girl spat out his name like she was being forced to say it. "Umm," Greg blinked, rubbing the back of his head. His gaze flew past "I just wanted to ask Emma¡­ something." The plump girl snorted, rolling her eyes at Greg''s words. "Eww, she doesn''t want trash like you. Why don''t you go l-" "Oh, shut up, Becca." Emma interjected, words dripping with scorn as she drew her lips back in a sneer. "No one said anything when you made out with Rodney like three weeks ago and he''s like, basically fucking homeless. Should you really be talking right now?" "But-but¡­ I¡­" Becca''s eyes flickered back and forth between Emma and the rest of the girls, the group suddenly quiet as they avoided the chubbier girl''s gaze. "I¡­ I thought¡­" Emma let out a tired breath, exaggerating the motion. "Becca, just shut up. Okay?" "B-" Now, it was Sophia''s turn to butt in, the track star leaning forward and glaring at the stammering girl. "The fuck did Emma just say, Becca? Shut the fuck up." Greg blinked, feeling a sudden mix of emotions; awkwardness that the girl was being so verbally dogpiled and joy that Emma would jump to his defense like that. Before he could say anything in response, a familiar drawling voice sounded out from behind his back. "Oooh, Becca. Sucks to be you right now." Greg looked over his shoulder to see his friend standing there, hands in the pockets of his jeans, wearing a rather annoyed expression on his face. Spluttering, the girl in question took a step forward, utterly ignoring Greg, Sophia and Emma to challenge Sparky. "You can''t talk to me like that!" "The fuck I can''t," Sparky shot back, rolling his eyes. "Bitch, you look bloated. Did you binge last night and forget to throw it back up? No?" Sparky shot her a smirk, a playful gleam in his eyes visible behind brown bangs. "Well, whatever you''re doing to pack on the pounds, chica, it''s definitely working." Becca froze for a moment before her face contorted. A moment later, she took off running, her hands rushing to her face as she let out muffled sobs. "Dude¡­" Greg stared at the girl''s retreating back for a moment before turning to face his friend, a questioning look on his face. "What?" Sparky''s smirk grew. "She needed to lose weight anyway. I just gave her motivation." Still kinda harsh, though. Greg paused for a moment before shrugging, deciding to let the matter go as he turned back to face Emma. "Hey, Emma." Greg, utterly oblivious to the awkwardness of the moment, shot the redheaded girl a grin. The other girls, despite looking rather confused, didn''t say so much as a word to him, Becca''s treatment a few minutes seemingly a lesson. Greg did notice a few girls staring over at the cafeteria exit but paid them no mind. Apart from casting a glance at Sophia for a moment, Emma herself didn''t pay her friends any attention. Instead, the redhead smiled at Greg, ruby lipstick accentuating the whiteness of her teeth. "Hey there, Greg." This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Sophia, sitting next to the redhead, smirked at the scraggly-haired blond. "Hey there, Greg," she echoed, her voice slightly mocking Emma''s breathier tones. Greg''s smile dipped. "...Sophia." "So, Veder," Sophia smirked at him, "I hear you and my girl Emma hit it off." Madison didn''t say a word, her gaze shifting slightly to Emma as a confused expression appeared on her face. The other girls at the table did the same. A slight flush appeared across Emma''s face as she glanced over at Greg, purposely avoiding the curious gazes of the girls gathered around her. "Umm¡­" Greg blinked, slowly sitting down at the spot where Becca had left open, the girls parting to make space for him. Pushing the missing girl''s fully-laden tray over to the empty spot next to him, Greg continued. "I¡­ guess so." "All right," Sophia seemed to be taking pleasure at watching him squirm. "So, what did you want to ask my girl over here?" Greg gulped as multiple eyes turned to face him, suddenly struck with exactly how many faces were looking at him as he felt a pit of nervousness start to form in his stomach. By his side, Sparky sat down and Greg shot him a glance, only to see his friend already occupied by Becca''s tray of food. Swallowing nothing, Greg glanced at Emma, receiving a slight tilt of the head in response. "Uhh¡­ maybe I picked the wrong time to do this. How about I talk to you later, Emma? You know, when you''re¡­" Greg gestured at the collection of girls, "more alone, I guess?" Before Greg could move to get up, Sophia slammed her palm down flat on the table, catching Greg''s attention. "No, you''re not doing that." Greg blinked. "I''m not?" "No." Sophia''s smirk faded slightly, a hard look coming into her eyes. "What you''re gonna do is tell her what you need to say right now, in front of all of us." "W-why?" "We''re her friends, Greg," Sophia spat out his name, similar to the way Becca did. "We''re gonna find out anyway." "I mean," Greg sighed, glancing quickly between Emma, who simply shrugged, and Sophia, still awaiting his answer. "It''s like you don''t know what later or alone means, Sophia." Sophia''s eyes narrowed slightly, her smirk shifting into a slight scowl. "Just fucking talk." "Fine," he sighed. Turning his gaze to face Emma, Greg began. "Uhh¡­ Emma, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go with me to the movies tomorrow." Emma smiled at him again, the look in her eyes waking an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach. "Sure, Greg. I''d love to." "Wow. I mean¡­ uhh," Greg grinned, letting a nervous chuckle fall out. Is asking a girl out this easy? "Great. That''s, umm¡­ really cool." The two stared at each other for a long moment before Sophia interrupted, snapping her fingers in front of Greg''s face. "Okay, you''re done," Sophia spoke up "Now enough with the bullshit and get the fuck away from my table." "Your table?" Greg frowned, both confused by the statement and annoyed by Sophia interrupting the moment. "What, does it have your name on it or something?" Sophia raised her arm from where it lay flat on the round lunch table and Greg''s eyes widened, Sparky following suit. "Wow, you actually wrote your name on the table?" Instead of her initials like one might expect, the entire name was written out in its entirety, carved surprisingly neatly on the fake wood of the round table. "Okay," Sparky leaned in, ignoring the food in front of him for a moment, "but why though?" "None of your fucking business." "I mean, did you use plastic utensils or did you bring your own carving tools?" Greg snarked, a smile on his face. "Either way, why do it?" "You want to get your teeth kicked in again, Veder?" Sophia bit back, her mouth pulled back into an angry grimace. "Do you?" Emma''s eyes widened slightly at Sophia''s threat and her gaze snapped over to Greg. "Sure, I wouldn''t mind going another round with you." Greg blinked slowly, giving Sparky a look before turning back to face Sophia. "Although, I don''t recall getting my teeth kicked in the first time. That may have been more from a lack of trying, I guess." Greg snickered for a moment, before continuing. "I mean, that''s not me saying that you didn''t try pretty hard. I''m pretty sure you did." Sophia didn''t reply, slowly cracking her knuckles.. "I mean, I''ve never seen someone that happy to deck someone else in the schnozz. So, logically, I''d have to assume you put some effort into it." Greg raised an eyebrow. "Otherwise, like, what''s the point? Am I right, Sparks?" The teen in question raised his head from what Greg assumed to be Becca''s tray, mouth stuffed full of fries and nodded. "Mpffff mfffff¡­" Swallowing the mouthful in several gulps, Sparky smacked his lips several times before speaking again. "You right, brah." "Thank you," Greg responded, winking at Emma as she tried her best to hide a smile. "Okay." Sophia cut in, still glaring at Greg. Greg blinked. Once. Twice. "Okay, what?" Greg replied, confused by what Sophia was replying too. Sophia tilted her head, her jaw clenched. "I said, okay." "I mean, okay?" Greg blinked again, shrugging his shoulders. "To what, exactly? You can''t just drop a non-sequitur in the middle of conversation and expect to be understood. I mean, what the heck?" Sophia breathed in deeply without opening her mouth, nostrils flaring as she glared daggers at Greg. "Why do people think it''s okay to waste my time?" she muttered, her voice still loud enough to be heard by everyone around her. "Okay, we can go another round." "Cool." Greg grinned. "Name the time and place." Pausing for a moment, the blond let out a slight chuckle. "I''ve always wanted to say that." Again, Emma''s eyes widened, her slight smile at the back-and-forth between the two disappearing in an instant. "Umm¡­ Sophia? Remember what I told y-" "Not now, Ems," the dark-skinned girl shot back, still aiming a scowl toward Greg and Sparky. "How about 3pm, by the old basketball court?" Greg blinked. "No idea where that is." "I do." Sparky nudged his friend, drawing Greg''s attention. "I''ll get you there." "Awesome Possum." Grin back on his face, Greg shot Sophia a thumbs up. "See you there, Sophie." Brown eyes narrowed. "We both know what my fucking name is, Veder." Greg snickered, standing up from the girls'' table. "Yeah, but does it matter?" Knuckles tightened on the fake wood of the circular table, Sophia''s hands clasping into eager fists. "You know, Veder," Sophia actually shot him an answering grin, her former scowl disappearing. "I''ve never met someone so happy to get his ass kicked." "It''s not that, Sophie." Greg snickered at the slight tensing of Sophia''s face at his purposeful use of the wrong name, the light sound turning into a full-blown laugh as the girl began to look constipated. "I''m just a big fan of second chances." Standing up, Greg waved at the redhead again. "See you later, Emma." The girl waved back slowly, smiling at the blond boy. "Bye, Greg. See you this weekend?" Greg grinned, his smile as wide as it had been all day. "Wouldn''t miss it for the world." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "What is up with you today, brah?" Sparky asked as they sat back at their table, their food long discarded. "You''re usually hyper as fuck but it''s different now." "I''ve changed, Axel." "First of all, you know how I feel about my first name. Second, no joke, dipshit. You challenged Hess," Sparky retorted, scratching his nose. "I just wanna know how." "A lot has happened since last week, man." Greg let out a manly chuckle. Or at least, his best approximation of one, which really wasn''t all that manly as much as it was loud. "I beat up a football player, got suspended, and made out with Emma. I also saw a dead body, like yesterday, so that''s still fresh." Greg tapped his temple in time with his last few words. Sparky stared at his friend blankly before opening his mouth to respond. "Wow, that answered absolutely nothing. I''d be careful, though. I''m pretty sure lil Fifi back there is gonna wear your teeth like a shark tooth necklace this time." Sparky blinked slowly. "A nerd-tooth necklace." Greg shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Sparky, you can trust me on this. I''m not gonna lose this time. Last time, I wasn''t ready for her." Hazel eyes stared at Greg unbelievingly. "Last time was three whole days ago." "Trust me. I have a plan." Sparky shot him another blank look before letting out a tired sigh. "Bro, I love you (No homo) but you''re gonna get your shit kicked in." Sparky shook his head slowly, throwing his hands up. "I mean, this is Hess we''re talking about. The psycho bitch. She will beat you so hard, you''ll shit yourself and then she''ll shove her foot so far up your ass, that she will literally kick your shit back in." "Woooow", Greg blinked. "That was... graphic." A moment later, he shot his friend a grin. "Don''t worry, Sparks. I''ve got this in the bag." A tired sigh left his friend''s mouth. "Yeah. A body bag." Greg shook his head, grinning. "Oh, ye of little faith." "Shut up, ye of little dick." "...Now, that''s just hurtful." Buff 3.7 Buff 3.7 Three o''clock came faster than Greg expected, the rest of the school day rushing by extremely quickly. By the time the bell rang and he left his last class, Sparky was already by his side, shepherding him out the exit doors and past the bus stop. The two of them now stood on the faded blacktop of the old basketball court, nearly two blocks from Winslow proper. They were surrounded by a group of random students, most of them boys that Greg recognized. Some of them were guys from classes he shared and others he might have passed in the halls at some point, their faces sticking in his subconscious long enough for him to call them somewhat familiar. For a moment, he wondered if any of them were for him. An instant later, he shook his head, pushing the idea out of his head as he realized they were all cheering Sophia''s name. Why did I even think that?
Quest Created! Schoolyard Showdown with Sophia Details: Beat down Sophia Hess in a serious bare-knuckle brawl. Success: Severely decreased reputation with Sophia Hess, Increased reputation with Emma Barnes, + 1 Stat Point, [? ability], 1,250 xp Failure: Decreased reputation with Emma Barnes. Bonus: Defeat Sophia in less than five hits.
Huh, nice. "So, any advice?" Greg glanced to his side where Sparky stood. The long-haired teen somehow managed to look disinterested even now, with a crowd surrounding them chanting Sophia''s name. "And no, ''It''s not too late to pull out'' is not advice." Bored eyes turned to his direction. "First, that''s what she said," Sparky responded, scratching at his chin. "Second, don''t embarrass yourself." He raised his hands slowly, giving Greg a slight shrug. "Fighting a girl is¡­ well, it''s not a good look. Losing to a girl is even worse." He let out a slow sigh, running a single hand through his hair. "Got it?" Greg nodded, looking over at Sophia where she stood across from him., Aat the other end of the human enclosure, the crowd formed around them. Pulling his "N. Er. Dy." hoodie over his head to reveal a long-sleeve shirt that proudly said "Two Girls, 1-up" with both main Mario princesses on the front holding a green mushroom, Greg handed his hood to his friend. "Trust me, I got it." Sparky grabbed the red hoodie from Greg and folded his arms over his chest, letting out a muttered, "I sure as hell hope so." Greg took a step forward, leaving a little bit of distance between him and Sparky. Under his breath, he began to whisper. "Observe."
Sophia Marjorie Hess ??? ??? HP: 255/255 She''s five foot three but her attitude is six foot nine. Heavily interested in drop-kicking your teeth in, possibly literally. Annoyed that you''re standing up to her. Suspicious.
Okay. Greg blinked. Again with the question marks but why? Is it her level? With HP that low, I doubt it, though. Huh. Shaking his head, Greg resolved to get into that later. Now was the time for something else. "Four points to strength, two points to speed." Before the pop-up confirming his choices could even come up, Greg quickly muttered a quiet "Yes."
Stat points allocated. +4 STR +2 SPD
Blue light danced over his hands, the tingling sensation appearing again as the points were allocated, the small light show going unnoticed by everyone. "G, did you just say something?" Sparky nudged him from behind. Shaking his head, Greg cast a glance back at his friend. "No, just thinking out loud." Sparky sighed. "Whatever, just get in there." With that, Sparky pushed his friend forward, the action forcing Greg nearer to the center of the semicircle where Sophia awaited him. "You know, Veder," Sophia began, a smirk on her lips, "If you want, you can leave right now. I don''t have to beat your ass again. It''s just more work for me, to be honest." Greg didn''t respond for a moment, instead glancing over his shoulder at Sparky and scanning the surrounding crowd of chanting students. "Come on, Veder." Sophia''s smirk widened, nearly becoming a vicious grin. "Little boy getting cold feet? Afraid I''ll embarrass you in front of your new girlfriend?" She cooed the word, sending an odd shiver down Greg''s spine. "First one to stay down loses." "Maybe this wasn''t such a good idea." "You actually trying to give up?" Sophia snorted, circling the blond like a shark. "Come on. Let me sweeten the deal for you. If, by some fucking miracle, you actually knock me on my ass, I''ll owe you a favor." Her grin faded slightly, as if the thought of Greg actually winning was enough to ruin her mood. "No, no, I don''t care about that." Greg shook his head furiously, Sparky''s words coming back up in his head as he stared past Sophia into the crowd. "It''s just¡­ I don''t know.. this whole thing here¡­ is¡­" He let out a deep sigh, dragging a palm across his face. "It''s really gonna be bad for me if it goes south. I mean, losing to a girl again is not gonna make me look good at all," Greg mused, eyes still scanning the gathered audience. "I mean, not that I look all that good now." "If?" Sophia snorted, pulling her hair back into a ponytail with practiced ease. "You actuallythink you have a chance at winning here? Did that last hit give you anemia or something?" Anemia? Greg blinked, staring at the dark-skinned girl in front of him for a moment. "I think you mean amnesia, and no, I''m not disparaging your skills, Sophia," he replied, waving his hand absentmindedly. "You can throw a mean punch. I just meant that you''re still a girl andno matter how you look at it, I''m much bigger than you." "Veder," Sophia grit her teeth, her smirk shifting into a grimace. "What are you trying to say?" Greg frowned slightly, straightening from his combat stance to rub his chin. "What I''m trying to say is that best-case scenario, I''m the guy who beat on a girl. Even worse, you''re black and I''m¡­ very white. So, now, I look racist. That''s even worse. Really, even when I win this fight, things still go south," Greg muttered to himself, laughing slightly. Sophia didn''t respond, her fists tightening hard enough for her knuckles to crack. Greg didn''t finish, still muttering aloud to himself as the crowd around them became confused as to why no one was throwing a punch. "What''s worse? Letting myself get beat up by a girl again or beating up a girl and becoming the Empire mascot of Winslow? Although, even if I lose, I still fought a black girl so¡­ there''s no real silver lining here. Huh, decisions, decisions..."
Through the realization that you are in a no-win situation, you have gained 1 WIS. Through thinking out the intricacies of a complicated social situation, you have gained 1 CHA. Through successfully antagonizing your opponent, you have gained 1 CHA.
Greg blinked again, surprised by all three pop-ups. I did what now? "You think you let me beat you?" Sophia shouted aloud as she trembled where she stood, a look of pure rage across her face. "You think you can win that easily just cause I''m a girl? Greg tilted his head, legitimately surprised. "Was that really the only part you focused on?" "Just for that, I''m gonna make you swallow your teeth, you little shit." "Okay, but," Greg pursed his lips, "again, what''s with the little? I still have at least three to four inches on you."
New Ability Gained! Taunt Lv 1 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2%.
Sophia let out an angry scream and rushed at Greg, one arm pulled back. She was surprisingly fast, Greg noted to himself, already in motion himself. Much faster than last time. Greg''s hand snapped up, catching her wrist with one hand. Both Greg and Sophia''s eyes widened at the move, neither of them expecting that. Sophia recovered first, pulling her hand free. Feinting, she ducked under his open guard, her other fist slamming into his gut with the force of a hammer. Pain lanced through Greg''s stomach, forcing him to double over. -5 Sophia lashed out quickly, Greg''s face now directly in reach of her fists. -8 -7 -7 Frick! Holy f- Bony knuckles bashed at the sides of his face, preventing him from thinking or even doing more than blocking. Instinctually, Greg tried to rush forward, his only thought to knock Sophia on to the ground where she couldn''t do as much damage. He charged forward and instantly regretted it. Her leg snapped up, the heel of her black Reebok catching him on the underside of the jaw and sending him reeling back. Before he could regain his bearings, Sophia slammed an elbow into his chest. "Son of a-" Scrambling back, Greg slapped a hand to his aching chest, the pain already beginning to fade. He glanced up at Sophia, the girl in question cracking her knuckles in front of her chest. "What was that you were saying about letting me win, Veder?" Sophia snapped, her teeth drawn back in a grin that bordered on a grimace. "You were saying something about me being just a girl, right?" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Greg let out a slow breath and stood up to his full height, the pain already gone. I''m stronger than her. I know that for sure, he thought to himself as he took slow heavy breaths, all to maintain the illusion that he was hurt. I ran with 100 pounds on me. Sophia definitely can''t do that. I just need to hit her¡­ once. Hard. "Sophia!" "Sophia!" "Sophia!" She''s so fucking fast! His fists tightened at his sides, a slight burst of annoyance welling up as he heard the crowd cheering Sophia''s name, among... other things. "Kick his ass!" It certainly didn''t help that Sophia''s grin seemed to increase the longer he looked on. Play it smart, Greg. Let her think you''re almost out of it. "I''m¡­ not¡­ gonna lose!" Lurching forward with every syllable, Greg threw a sluggish swing at the girl. She reacted as expected, dodging and closing the gap between them with ease. A fist struck a glancing hit to his jaw, sending a flare of pain rushing through him. Greg blinked, the pain fading in moments, and he lurched forward again, his movements lazy. The second hit to the face was direct and powerful, straight to his nose. "Motherf-!" Greg stumbled back, a hand rising to his nose instinctively. It came away wet, two of his fingers covered in red. "Fuck!"
[Minimal Bleeding] Debuff applied -1 HP every five seconds for the next thirty seconds.
-4 -8 Raising his forearms to block Sophia''s rushing hands, Greg was suddenly rocked by a blow to the ribs. The feel of a hard sole digging into his chest was the next thing Greg felt and he let out a harsh gasp, winded by the twin blows to his torso. -5 -6 Other than making him momentarily gasp for air, the foot to his chest hadn''t hurt that much. In fact, Greg was pretty sure that compared to the last time he went up against Sophia, he was taking a lot less damage overall. Combined with the fact that he was stronger, faster and had more health, he was confident he could win this. I can win this! He just needed to make this look good. Sophia''s eyes were gleaming as she bounced on the soles of her feet, her smile wide as if she was enjoying the pain she was inflicting. Greg didn''t really doubt that. "Hey, Veder," Sophia called out, barely loud enough to be heard over the cheering crowd, "I thought you were letting me win. All that shit talk''s gone now, huh?" "Nuh-uh," Greg wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve again. "I am letting you win." Sophia''s grin vanished in an instant. "What?" "Yeah!" Greg yelled out, taking away his hand from his bleeding, bruised-up face to allow his voice to carry. "I can''t exactly hit you seriously. You''re tiny." "Veder, I swear to fucking God!" Sophia screamed at the top of her lungs. "C''mon, Sophia," Greg paused, spitting up a hunk of bloody saliva at his feet. "You can''t deny it. You''re fast, sure, but I doubt you could really take a hit. You''re not exactly strong."
Ability Level Up ! Taunt Lv 2 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 4%.
Through using someone''s neuroses against them, you have gained 1 CHA.
"Fuck you and fight me!" Sophia roared, eyes bulging with rage. "You fucking fuck!" Without hesitation, she rushed at him, throwing a fast but sloppy punch that Greg barely ducked. Sensing his moment, Greg hastily swung out with a backhanded punch of his own aimed at her face. Sophia''s eyes widened and she twisted her head just in time, avoiding a glancing blow to her jaw. Undeterred, Greg spun and swung his other fist like a bludgeoning weapon, slamming the limb directly into Sophia''s chest. Sophia let out a pained grunt as his fist struck the center of her chest and she reeled back. Greg surged forward, hitting her again with another body shot, this one low and to the side. Before she could fall back, he swung again. HARD. [Critical Hit!] Sophia Marjorie Hess HP: 123/255 The solid punch hit firmly in her solar plexus, what he remembered from his anatomy skill confirming it. In a perfect imitation of a fallen tree, Sophia collapsed to the pavement, her hair falling into her face as she clutched her chest. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly in a perfect imitation of a fish out of water, desperately gasping for air.
Through the use of effective strategy, you have gained 1 INT.
The crowd was silent, wide eyes staring at Greg''s battered form and Sophia''s prone body, almost as if they couldn''t believe the outcome. Sparky''s voice was the outlier, his cry of "Holy shit, brah! You folded her like an omelet!" easily audible with the crowd of students silenced. Ignoring his friend for the moment, Greg dropped to one knee in front of Sophia and the girl reacted like a wild animal, flailing at him with one hand even as the other clutched her chest. Greg snatched her wrist, holding her hand hostage and watching the girl as she wheezed on the ground, desperately grasping for air. Unwilling to give up despite her inability to breathe, Sophia thrashed in his grip. Greg drew his other fist back, the sight enough to make the girl flinch. "Rules were, first one to stay down loses." Greg spat a mouthful of blood to his side, wiping his mouth on his sleeve once more. "Right?" Vicious eyes glared daggers into Greg''s unnervingly calm face. After a moment, Sophia nodded, her gaze flicking to the arm that still struggled for freedom in Greg''s vise-like grip. She wheezed in, letting out a raspy, "Yeah."
Quest Success! "Schoolyard Showdown with Sophia" Completed! Gained 1,250 XP. Gained 1 Stat Point Gained [Acrobatics] Unlocked [Beginner Combat] Bonus Objective Completed: +1 Stat Point, + 1 SPD
Abilities Gained! Acrobatics Lv 1 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Beginner Combat Lv 1 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability.
Greg dropped his fist, a gleam coming into his eyes. "So, that means I win," he said with a smile, proudly displaying blood-stained teeth in a macabre grin. "Now¡­ let''s talk about that favor you owe me." Sophia flinched at the reminder of her loss and shut her eyes, trembling angrily as Greg loomed over her. Several meters away, Emma Barnes took in everything that happened, her face a rictus of shock as she witnessed her best friend fall to the ground after only three strikes. As Greg stood up, thrusting one hand in the air, the crowd actually cheered, more for sheer excitement from the fight itself than for the actual winner. She doubted Greg cared, the excited cheers making his face light up. Emma Barnes watched all this and her expression shifted, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 247/295
Mana 165/165
Willpower 130/130
STR 28 SPD 20
VIT 15 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 6(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $826.00
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Buff 3.8 Buff 3.8 Fugly Bob''s 3:45 PM Fugly Bob''s, a burger joint that played at being a restaurant despite it''s less than impressive name, was the place that any person in their right mind would go to for quality comfort food in Brockton Bay. As long as they weren''t worried about their waistline, cholesterol, or their complexion, they''d be fine enjoying the deliciously greasy fare Fugly''s had to offer. It was this same deliciously greasy food that made Fugly Bob''s so popular among the teenage residents of this city, their normal burgers sized just right to fill the bottomless pit that was their stomachs. Unsurprisingly, it was also Greg Veder''s favorite place to grab a bite. Loud voices, the background drone of chattering, only added to the colorful, upbeat tone of the venue. Greg sat, back pressed up against the upholstery of the booth as he stared at his friend opposite him. Compared to the general mood of the place, their silence was a stark contrast. "Sparky?" The mixed teen didn''t say anything, simply pulling of his beanie and tossing it on the table with a heavy sigh. Olive-colored hands clasped on the table loosened and hazel eyes flicked up, flashing Greg an imperceptible look. "Really?" It was the first thing the teen had said in several minutes, his voice much quieter than Greg was used to. "Like¡­ really?" "Yeah," Greg replied, nodding slowly. "Why would I lie?" "Yeah," Sparky shook his head. A hand rose to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. He let out a sigh before speaking again. "Why the hell would you lie?" "Besides," Greg snorted, a smile growing on his face, "You already saw me heal up." ''I did, yeah," Sparky nodded, eyes still shut. "It''s just a bit hard to¡­ you know, believe." Still smiling, Greg nodded his head again. "Yeah, it took me a bit too," he replied with a laugh. "The story''s kinda funny, actually." A hand slapped down on the table, shocking Greg and interrupting his laughter. Greg found himself staring at Sparky, blue eyes wide with confusion as they stared into narrowed hazel. "This isn''t a joke," Sparky bit out, his voice low so as not to draw the other diner''s attention. "Not funny." Greg blinked, shrinking back in his seat as Sparky kept glaring at him. This was¡­ new. Sparky wasn''t the type to get angry, preferring snark or sarcasm as a way of expressing his emotions. "B-bro?" Sparky raised a finger, his mouth pulled down into a scowl as he stared at his friend. "One question¡­" Shrinking back even further under his friend''s glare, Greg offered a weak smile. "Yeah¡­" Leaning in, Sparky slapped both hands flat against the black surface of the table, gritted his teeth and hissed, "Are you fucking retarded, brah?" The fight had ended about thirty minutes ago, Greg soaking in the cheers and whoops of an excited crowd of his peers before most of them split apart and began to head home. Sophia had been one of the first to leave, not even bothering to hang around after the way the fight ended. Greg had offered the girl a hand up but Sophia, being her gracious, understanding self, had refused it violently, nearly scratching Greg''s hand with her nails as she slapped it away. Greg had brushed off the refusal without much of a thought, only to be stopped by Emma, her smiling face stopping him in his tracks. Without saying a word, the pretty redhead gave him a paper with her number in it and winked at him, leaving immediately after to follow her friend. With everyone leaving, Sparky and Greg had decided to head down to the Boardwalk to grab something to eat. Sparky, still excited with the win Greg had pulled off, had been the talkative one this time, questioning Greg the whole bus ride over with how exactly he was able to beat her. It was when they finally got to the burger joint and sat down that Greg dropped the bombshell on his friend. "I have powers, man." Sparky had been unbelieving at first, the idea that Greg of all people was a cape almost impossible for him to process. "What?" "Yeah, I really do," Greg nodded his head furiously and began explaining everything that happened to him since he got his powers. Going almost a week without telling anyone, the words had stumbled out in a hurried rush against the loud backdrop of the restaurant''s other occupants. All in all, Sparky might not have heard everything, but Greg was pretty sure he got the basics. He was eventually forced to believe Greg when he realized that all of Greg''s wounds from the fight had healed over in the short time they had made their way to Fugly''s. "W-what?" Greg gulped, the sudden heat in Sparky''s tone surprising him. "I d-don''t¡­" "Are. You. Fucking. Retarded. Brah," Sparky repeated, emphasizing each word with his teeth gritted. Greg blinked, surprised by the sudden venom in his friend''s tone. "Uh¡­ I¡­ no?" "You''ve had these powers since when?" "Uhhh¡­ Sunday." "Seriously, man?" Sparky''s hand went to his face again, rubbing his forehead as he leaned back in the booth. He spoke up again, his voice still low. "You get powers - powers designed for your nerdy ass - and you go out of your way to do suicidal shit with them and it hasn''t even been a week yet?" "I-" Greg opened his mouth to reply, only for Sparky to speak again, cutting him off. "Nah, brah. You¡­" the teen blew air from his mouth, shaking his head, "you don''t get to talk right now." Greg met his friend''s eyes, seeing the hint of steel there that told him Sparky was actually being somewhat serious. He nodded hesitantly, accepting his words. What did I even do? "You know what you fucking did." Greg sat up, stiffening in his seat as he stared at Sparky with wide eyes. Did he just read my mind? Is he a cape too? Sparky''s scowl twitched, the side of his mouth moving upwards. "No, you idiot, I''m not a mind-reader." Olive hands gestured upwards at his face, hands splayed out. "No one needs to read your mind. It''d be fucking pointless when your face tells them everything." "Oh." Greg leaned back in his seat again, light skin flushing in embarrassment. "Sorry." Mom did say I had an expressive face. Is that what that means? ""Don''t¡­" Another sigh left Sparky''s mouth, the teen dragging a hand down his face. "Don''t apologize, please. It makes me feel like I''m kicking a puppy, dude. I just¡­ I just can''t with you. The day you get your powers, you go out and fight Merchants?" He opened his mouth as if about to continue a rant, but instead closed it with a sigh. "Really, brah?" Greg flushed deeper. "I¡­ I practiced first." "Oh yeah," Sparky shot back, rolling his eyes, "You punched a tree a couple times." "Like, two whole hours but okay." "Yeah," Sparky narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched. "Cause that''s so much better. Real smart idea to go out and punch a couple Merchants with that under your belt." Greg frowned at that and tried to find something to say. Some upstanding defense of his actions that could overturn Sparky''s words. Instead, he said the first thing that came to mind. "But¡­ the quests...?" The sentence came out weakly even to his own ears and from the look of irritated boredom on Sparky''s face, it didn''t exactly win him over. "Oh, the quests? The quests that pop up when you think about stuff?" Greg nodded hesitantly. "Fuck the quests, brah," Sparky continued, sotto voce. "God, man, you''re killin'' me here. I''d figure you of all people with a power like yours would realize that you don''t start taking quests or generally doing stupid shit unless you understand what you''re actually fuckin'' doing." Rather than reply, Greg winced. That was kinda dumb, yeah. "Hell, do you even understand how your powers work?" Sparky asked, throwing a hand up. Greg blinked, the question confusing him a little. "Uh, well, I don''t think anyone really understands how powers really work, per se." He shrugged, tilting his head as he thought about the question. "I mean, scientists can understand and document the effects but given the vast number of capes in the world and all the differing and contradictory abilities, the actual mechanics of powers are a b-" "Hey, hey, hey," Sparky interjected, snapping his fingers in front of Greg''s face. "What did I say about talking?" Greg shrugged, chuckling weakly. "Sorry." "Whatever," Sparky replied with a sigh, drawling out the word as he dropped his face into an upraised palm. "By the way, I didn''t mean it like that," he continued, glancing out the window for a moment. "What I meant was, how do your powers make you different? Like, that first day. What did your," Sparky rolled his eyes, hands coming up in air quotes, "stats¡­ show you?" Greg pursed his lips, raising a hand to his chin as he thought back to that Sunday. "Huh. My original stats were pretty low, I think. Like, really low?" "Are you asking me?" Sparky replied, sharp tone shifting to incredulous. "N-no," Greg shook his hands, stammering as he tried to think. "Uhh¡­ well, my stats were kinda trash tier. At level one, I had..." Blond eyebrows furrowed in thought as Greg did his best to recall his original stats. "80 Health, 50 Mana, 30 Willpower, 2 strength, 3 speed, 2 vitality, 6 intelligence, 1 wisdom and 1 charm or maybe charisma¡­ I still haven''t figured out what that last one stands for yet," Greg added that last bit on hurriedly, shrugging as if in apology. "Mm-hmm," Sparky pressed his lips together. "And now?" "Lemme check," Greg''s eyes flicked up. "Stats." Spoiler: STATUS Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 295/295
Mana 165/165
Willpower 130/130
STR 28 SPD 20
VIT 15 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 6(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $826.00
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Eyes widened as Greg took in his stats, surprise clear on his face. "...whoa." That''s insane. Simply grinding his stats every day and gaining more stat points hadn''t exactly left Greg in the mindset to calculate how much his stats had increased. Of course, he had looked at his stats but actually comparing them to what he started out with? Not so much a priority. Sparky leaned in, eyebrows raised as he pressed against the table again. "What is it?" Greg blinked slowly as he re-read the stat numbers one more time, comparing them to what he just recalled. "My health is at 295, mana''s up to 165, will is 130, strength is 28, speed is 20, vitality is 15, intelligence is 22¡­ well, both wisdom and charisma are only at two." Greg bit his lip, staring at the list again with disbelieving eyes. "That''s¡­ well, that''s a lot higher." "Is it? How can you be sure?" Sparky replied, one eyebrow raised. "How do you know exactly what 28 strength means?" Shrugging, Greg made a noncommittal noise with his mouth closed. "I dunno, it''s like fourteen times more than two, though. So, it has to be a lot bigger. Right?" Sighing, Sparky rolled his eyes. "The numbers are, sure, but what do they stand for in the real world? Is that progression quadratic? Linear? Exponential? Is it just adding one more pound per point? What''s your benchmark, brah?" "¡­I dunno." Greg just sat there, realizing that he hadn''t put that much effort into learning about his own power. "I thought so. I know you''re not the biggest fan of math but come on..." Sparky let out a groan as Greg worked his mouth silently, sinking further into his seat. "Do you even know what those original stats even meant?" Greg remained silent. "That''s what I guessed," the long-haired teen sighed, palming his face again. "You''re killin'' me here, brah." Raising his face from his hand, Sparky stared at his friend for a moment before stretching that same hand out, palm up. "You know what? I''m gonna fix this up. Give me your phone for a minute." "Why?" Greg asked, chewing on his lower lip. "What for?" Sparky shot him an exhausted look. "The fuck do you think, genius? I''m gonna call your mom," he replied, rolling his eyes. "Now, c''mon. Gimme." He made the gesture with his fingers in time with his last word. "Alright, alright," Greg sighed, rolling his own eyes. "Yeesh, you don''t have to be sarcastic about everything," he said, pulling out his candy-blue Motorola from his pocket. Handing it to Sparky, Greg continued, "Being straight-forward every once in a while doesn''t hurt, ya know." Snorting, Sparky opened Greg''s phone and began to tap at it for a few moments, leaving Greg looking on in slight confusion. "So," the blond began with a click of his tongue, doing his utmost to wait patiently, "what are you doing on my phone, anyway?" Lifting the phone to his ear, Sparky raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Calling your mom, like I told you." "Wait, no!" Greg hissed, eyes wide. He stretched out his hand, standing up from the booth as he tried to grab his phone from Sparky''s hand only for his friend to lean away from him, smirking. "Hi, Ms. V, it''s Axel," Sparky''s voice rang out clearly as he spoke into the phone, his usual slow drawl replaced by a tone that sounded oddly¡­ proper. Greg froze, dropping heavily into his seat with an infuriated groan. What now? "Oh no, everything''s fine, Ms. V," Sparky continued, grinning brightly as he watched Greg fume. "Me and Greg are just over at my place doing homework." "What are you doing?" Greg mouthed. Sparky ignored him. "Oh, you know just helping Greg with Geometry while he helps me out with English homework. Stuff like that, you know, but I just wanted to call and ask you something." "Seriously, what are you doing?" Greg actually spoke this time, raising his voice to a whisper as he nervously ran a hand through his hair, the other tapping against the linoleum of the table. Continuing to ignore him, Sparky tilted his head away from Greg. "The two of us were gonna work out with my dad''s equipment and I just wanted to know if it''d be okay if he stayed over till around eight or nine, so we could hang out for a bit and exercise and stuff. That okay?" Oh. Greg blinked, a smile beginning to grow on his face as he realized what Sparky was doing. "Thanks a lot, Ms. V," Sparky said after a brief pause. "I''ll tell my mom you said hi." With that, Sparky slapped the phone shut, the smile on his face disappearing in an instant to be replaced with his trademark blank stare. "Well, that''s taken care of." Greg''s nose wrinkled as he stared at his friend. "What''s taken care of exactly?" "Your mom asking any weird questions about what you''re doing." Sparky raised a single eyebrow. "I''m guessing you haven''t told her about your powers, right?" "Nope." Greg shook his head, a slight burst of awkward laughter leaving him as Sparky palmed his face again. "See, brah, I can''t even say anything ''cause that might be the smartest thing you''ve done since you got your powers," Sparky remarked, a hint of exasperation in his tone. "And that''s really saying something." "Really?" Grinning, Greg sat up straight. "Thanks, Sparks." Greg found himself the recipient of another flat stare. "That wasn''t a c¡­" Sparky let the rest of his sentence trail off with a tired sigh. "Just let it go, Sparky," Greg heard him mutter. Grabbing his beanie off the table, he pulled it on. "Come on, genius. We''re going to my place." The blond blinked, his mouth falling open slightly, as Sparky stood up with his backpack in hand. A pale hand pointed down at the menu in front of him. "But we didn''t eat yet¡­" Sparky''s brow furrowed, his blank expression dipping into a slight frown. "No, we''re not eating. We gotta figure out what''s up with this game of yours. Besides, we have food at my place." "But¡­ but¡­" Greg stared longingly at the menu again, "Come on, Sparks. We can just go to the pick-up window. We don''t have to eat here." "Dude, no," Sparky groaned, tapping his foot on the tile floor. "I bought us like five hours at most with your mom. I''m gonna make the most out of that." Greg paused for a moment, Sparky still staring at him. One could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to find something to say, several options coming to mind quickly being discarded. After a few seconds, Greg glanced up at his friend, an idea coming to mind. You freakin'' genius. "I''ll pay for all the food you want."
Through using other''s motivations for your own benefit, you have gained 1 CHA.
Sparky froze in place, a look of dull surprise on his face as he locked eyes with Greg. "Did you just say all?" Greg grinned widely. Sparky joined him a moment later. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 10 Minutes Later "Thirty-eight dollars, man?" Greg repeated for the fifth time, staring disbelievingly at the receipt in his hands. Sparky sat in the seat next to him, a smug grin on his face. "How do you spend four times what I did?" The glutton in question shrugged his shoulders, the action slightly awkward to pull off considering his hands were occupied by a large bag filled with fast food. "You said all." Greg stammered for a few moments before letting out an exasperated groan, leaning back into the uncomfortable bus seat. "Oh, I''m sorry. I guess it''s my fault that I forgot you had a stomach like Goku, and not a human being." Sparky made an amused noise. "Well, you''ll remember next time." Greg made a sound like a choking cat and sunk further in his seat. "Just hand me my fries." Buff 3.9 Buff 3.9 "So, where are your parents?" Greg asked Sparky as his friend locked the front door behind them. The house was quiet and dark, obviously apart from the two of them. Greg pursed his lips in confusion, wondering why that was. The few times he''d been here, the place had been relatively lively with Sparky''s mom fluttering in and out of places while music blared from a speaker somewhere in the house. From what he knew, Sparky''s mom spent nearly all her free time at home. He wasn''t too sure about his dad but he knew the man owned a Mexican restaurant, so the guy had to be pretty busy, right? At least, Greg assumed so. He wasn''t over at his friend''s house all that often, Sparky often came over to his place to hang out. Sparky''s house, despite being somewhat smaller than Greg''s, was furnished far more¡­ creatively. Due to his mother''s profession as a sculptor and her habit of dabbling in other art forms, her unsold pieces often filled the open spaces. As a result, even in the dim lighting, the place looked rather lively. "Oh, them," Sparky replied flatly, flicking on the light switch without even turning his head. As light flooded the room, he shrugged. "They''re¡­ uh," he began to walk, Greg following right behind him as he made his way toward the stairs. "They''re in Boston," Sparky paused to clear his throat, "At...uhh, at a hotel for the weekend." "A hotel?" Greg blinked, obviously confused. "Why? What''s going on in Boston?" Sparky let out a sigh as he walked up towards the second floor. "They''re just having some together¡­ time." This prompted Greg to tilt his head, his hand alighting on the banister as he followed Sparky from behind. "Together time?" "Together time." Sparky frowned, the curve of his mouth visible from where Greg stood. "They do it every two weeks, leaving me alone at home for the weekend." He paused for a moment, halting as they reached the top of the stairs and flicking Greg a blank stare. "Not that I hate it, get me?" "Sure," Greg replied, his voice bright despite his persistent confusion as to what exactly Sparky was talking about. "I get you." "Well, let''s do this," Sparky said as the two reached the first door on the right as they left the stairs. Grabbing a key hanging from a rack on the wall, Sparky unlocked the door, flinging it open and gesturing for Greg to enter. Greg did, stepping through the threshold only to pause, his eyes widening as he took in the room. "Whoa." "I know, right?" Sparky stepped up next to him, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face that almost seemed¡­ proud. "Dad put almost fifteen grand into this place." "I can¡­" Greg nodded slowly, taking in everything. "I can definitely see that." Exercise equipment filled up most of the space that made up the room, a separate area covered with mats clearly for some other purpose. So many dumbbells, intimidatingly large weight plates covered in brightly colored rubber and a long, silver barbell took up one side of the room along with several floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Next to all that was a structure that seemed solely designed for pull-ups, with several cloth straps attached to it as well as a bunch of rubber robes for some reason. Everything else was just complicated equipment that he couldn''t make heads or tails of. Greg couldn''t deny that the room itself was the epitome of a home gym. "Huh." "What?" Sparky gave him a look. "You know, you''ve never shown me this before," Greg mused aloud, still taking in the undoubtedly expensive exercise equipment. "Why would I?" Sparky replied, eyebrow raised. "This is my dad''s workout room. I only do cardio, anyway, and that shit''s in the basement, so I''m almost never in here." Greg nodded slowly. "Fair enough. So, what are we doing first?" "Hmm¡­ first, I''m gonna need you to do me a favor." The blond tilted his head. "Hmm?" Sparky turned to face Greg, gaze going from his head to his toes as he slowly gave his friend a once-over. "...lose the clothes." Blue eyes blinked rapidly. "...what?" Greg entered the exercise room again, rolling his eyes as he saw Sparky smirking at him. "You know, you could have just said that you were gonna give me a pair of shorts," the blond began, pulling his arms back in a lazy stretch. Sparky''s smirk twitched. "Yeah, but your face, though. You looked so weirded out." "Sparks¡­" Greg whined, his face reddening slightly. He let out a scoff, openly grinning as Greg pouted. "Oh, stop being a baby." The two of them stood shirtless in the exercise room, the only thing they had on their bodies being socks, shorts and underwear. While it was a tad drafty, Greg didn''t make mention of it and Sparky didn''t seem to be that uncomfortable as he looked over the machines in front of him. "Okay, now, you said your STR is at 28, right?" Sparky mused aloud, a hand caressing his hairless chin. Greg nodded. "Yep." "Well, we need to test what that means in the real world so use that Observe thing on me. Check my stats, brah." Greg shrugged and looked straight at his friend. "I don''t think it''ll do that but¡­ sure. [Observe.]"
Axel "Sparky" Ramon Student Lvl 8 HP: 200/200 Best friend and a true bro. Known you since Freshman year. Annoyed at you, but when is he not? Considers himself grunge. Despises being called emo. Really good at math but hates doing it, for the most part. Great at Guitar. Moderately good singer.
Greg shook his head. "No stats, except for health. That''s 200. Everything else is just flavor text." Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "Flavor text? You know what, I''ll find out later." Sparky glanced over towards the weight equipment, gaze flicking between the actual machines and the more mundane weight tools, "Let''s check out those barbells first." Greg frowned, paling slightly as he took in the massive weight bar. "I dunno, man. That thing looks kinda heavy," he remarked, an uncertain tone in his voice. Instead of simply replying, Sparky gave him a hard slap on the back, prompting a yelp from Greg, the blond teen jumping slightly. "You''ll be fine." Rubbing his back slightly, Greg frowned. "Jerk." "Test 1," Sparky spoke aloud, a pen and notebook in hand. "Fifty-five pounds. You ready?" "Uh yeah," Greg shrugged, shooting Sparky a slightly annoyed glance. "Thing is, I''m pretty sure I can lift over a hundred pounds, though. Now, at least." Sparky waved him off. "Testing purposes. Just do it." Greg shook his head and turned to face the dumbbell. He had been wondering what his actual limit was right now or at least what the numbers meant on his Stat screen. Well, ever since Sparky brought it up, he had. At least, now, he could have some idea. Gripping the dumbbell in both hands in what was most likely an incredibly bad stance, Greg easily lifted the bar, raising it over his head in a single movement. Greg looked up at the bar in his hands, a somewhat pensive look on his face. After a moment, he grinned and let one hand go, his other hand easily supporting the bar on it''s own. "Done." Sparky took a step closer. "This isn''t pushing it at all, brah?" Greg smirked. "Nope." The mixed teen nodded. "Kay, moving on." "Test 2; One-hundred pounds." Greg lifted the slightly heavier bar above his head without too much effort and held it there. "Done." Sparky quickly made a note in his book, before glancing back up. "No prob?" Greg shook his head a bit hesitantly. "Not¡­ really." "Mmhmm, little prob, then." Another scribble in the book. "Can you do the one arm thing?" Greg frowned, letting let one hand go for a moment before the bar began to wobble in his other hand. Flinching, Greg quickly grabbed hold of the bar again with both hands. He shook his head at Sparky. "That¡­ No, I don''t think so." Sparky nodded, making another note in the book. "Got it." "Test 4; Two-hundred pounds." Greg nodded and gripped the bar, the weights on the sides beginning to truly stack up in size. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the bar off the ground and lifted it overhead, the motion noticeably slower than the previous attempts. "Okay, this is still pretty doable. Startin'' to feel it, though." "Gotcha," Sparky muttered, sitting on a weight bench, his shirt now on. "So, on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being like nothing and 10 being impossible to lift, how much does this weigh to you?" Greg frowned, the bar still over his head. He glanced up at the bar in his grip and then back to Sparky, mulling the question over in his head. "I''d say this is a three, maybe. Possibly four." "Huh, next up." "Test nine; Four-hundred and fifty pounds." Greg bent down, squatting as he gripped the bar. With a grunt, he began to pull and the dumbbell began to rise. With another, much more audible grunt, Greg lifted the bar over his head and held it there. Droplets of sweat were visible on his forehead from the effort as he kept the bar raised but he persisted. "Done," he said, voice clearly strained. "1 to 10?" Sparky asked. "Eight and a half, maybe?" Greg replied, his voice relaxing somewhat as he began to get used to the weight on his arms. "How long do you think you can hold it, brah?" Sparky asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw Greg''s arm muscles bulge slightly. "Like, max." The blond frowned, shaking his head. "I dunno¡­ max? Maybe ten, fifteen? Fifteen minutes before my arms give out, I guess." "Okay, let''s move to step 11." "You got this, brah?" "...nnngggghhh¡­." "Brah?" "...nnnghh¡­" Greg let out another grunt as he heaved the heavily laden bar up to his chest, sweat pouring down his brow as he continued struggling. "...shut. Up. please." His eyes were shut tight, veins visible on his forehead and arms as he raised the bar higher and higher. His arms were criss-crossing paths of veins as they bulged out from the effort he was putting in. Come on! Come on! "Yeaaaah!" With a triumphant scream, Greg raised the bar all the way into the air. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and, after blinking away the sweat falling in his eyes, he stared into Sparky''s gaping face. "Dude¡­" "How much... did you say... this was again?" Greg said, pausing to take gulping breaths. "Test 11," Sparky repeated, "Five-hundred and fifty pounds." Arms beginning to shake under the pressure, Greg lowered the bar to the floor, letting out a relieved sigh as it hit the mat beneath his feet. "Yeah, pretty sure that''s my limit. Nine and a half, right here." "Pretty sure?" Sparky raised an eyebrow. "I figure you could have taken about five or ten pounds more but..." Greg shot him a tired glare. "My limit. That was it." Sparky shrugged. "If you say so, okay. Seeing as how your limit seems to be about five-fifty, it seems like your strength stat is about twenty pounds per point. I mean, it could be exponential or quadratic but considering a 2 probably isn''t the same strength as a baby..." He raised an eyebrow again. "I really doubt it." Greg blinked, standing up straight. "Cool." Grinning, Sparky patted him on the back. "Yep, and it''s gonna be even cooler when we find out what your SPD stat means." Greg let out a groan as Sparky began to shepherd his sweaty body out of the weight room. "Oh, shut up, we still gotta write down your skills and shit too." Greg groaned even louder. Buff 3.10 Buff 3.10 7:12 PM Greg stood slumped against the wall of Sparky''s living room with a bottle of blue Gatorade in one hand, catching his breath as his Will began to recover. Sparky sat on the couch, writing a bunch of notes into that same stupid notebook. All the data he had put down had been everything from the speed Greg could run (25 mph), to the length of time he could keep that speed up before his will gave out (20 minutes) and everything else like that, leading to the long-haired teen theorizing that Greg''s speed stat seemed to increase by 1.25 mph with every point, most likely. All those running tests had led to Sparky asking Greg all sorts of questions that he didn''t really think were necessary, like, "Does that mean your Will usage rate stays constant given your new level of top ability or do you use more Will now that your physical stats are higher?". When Greg had replied with a shrug, Sparky had shaken his head and waved him off. After Greg thought about it though, he thought it generally stayed constant, but Sparky didn''t want to take his word for it. So, he had him run back and forth until his Will dropped to zero. While Sparky didn''t really get any new information from his tests other than Greg''s top speed, Greg did get something out of it.
Through intense physical training, your SPD has increased by 1. Through intense physical training, your STR has increased by 1. Stamina has leveled up x 3.
So, at least it wasn''t a total waste. From there, Sparky had Greg showing off his skills on the punching bag in the basement and Sparky concluded that while his Will-based attacks seemed to increase alongside his strength, they didn''t necessarily seem to scale with them. Greg had to admit that Sparky''s point did make some sense. If it did scale, he wouldn''t need a critical hit to one-shot most Merchants at this point with 28 STR, considering he''d been doing above 20 damage with 2 STR already. Sparky had gotten a quick run through on his Mana-based skills, too, with Greg blasting him in the face with his currently max-leveled Aerokinesis. Apparently, just like Brawling, it didn''t seem to go past Level 5 for some reason. Even then, Sparky didn''t think that was too much of a hindrance for now. Greg didn''t really agree, though. I mean, eighty miles per hour winds sounds cool on paper but it wasn''t even strong enough to do more than knock Sparky back a little, he had thought to himself, air swirling around his fists. Not exactly Stormtiger-level stuff. The Aerokinesis reveal led to Sparky silently writing in his notebook for a good five minutes, sneaking glances at Greg while the blonde tried to blast air from somewhere else other than his hands. In the end, Sparky told him to keep practicing with it, in the hope of getting more control over it. Greg shrugged, barely paying attention, but he agreed to at least try. After taking notes on the rest of his skills and abilities, Sparky started asking questions about his last two stats, the ones that he could think of no way to reasonably measure; WIS and CHA. Specifically, he wanted to know why they were so low and why Greg hadn''t yet sunk points into them. All it took was for Greg to read his traits out loud for Sparky to take a step back, eyes wide. He let out air through gritted teeth and shook his head, simply saying, "Rough luck, brah." Greg was forced to agree with that assessment. Now, thankfully, they were done with all the pointless testing and he could finally relax. "Greg¡­" What now? The blond let out a groan, raising his head. "Yeah?" "Those¡­ uhh¡­ those Gatorades¡­" Greg perked his head up as Sparky began talking, the mixed teen staring at him with wide eyes. Greg gestured at him, confused. "You want one?" "Nah, I''m fine." Sparky shook his head slightly. "It''s just¡­ that last one¡­ I''m pretty sure you pulled that out of your shorts. The shorts I gave you." Sparky''s eyes were locked tightly onto the bottle in Greg''s hands. "How?" "Oh, that," Greg replied, his tone light as he waved the bottle in his hands. "I forgot I didn''t mention that." "Mention what?" "My inventory." "...your what?" Greg blinked. "My inventory?" "... your what?" "So," Sparky let out a long sigh, "you have a personal dimension¡­ tiny universe¡­ thing¡­ whatever... that can carry your stuff for you?" "Uhhh¡­" Greg blinked, still leaning against the wall. "And you just¡­ you just thought this was so not-important that you didn''t mention it?" he continued, voice rising slightly. "A literal personal inventory?" "... yeah." "Perks, stats, quests and an inventory?" Sparky dropped his face into his open palms and let out a long, tired groan. "So, instead of a power that makes sense, you''re just¡­ a game character? That''s so fucking¡­ you that it''s not even funny." "I mean¡­" Greg tilted his head, mulling over the statement in his head for a moment before he shrugged. "I guess so." "I don''t even know anymore." Sparky let out a sigh, leaning back on the couch. Stretching out his body, he glanced back at Greg again, the blond simply looking confused as he stood there, drink in hand. "So¡­ you can carry anything in there, right?" "Yup," he responded, taking another swig of the Gatorade. "There a limit?" Sparky brushed some hair out of his eyes, leaning forward on the couch until he was literally at the edge of his seat. "Uhhh¡­" Greg responded with a shrug, "I honestly don''t know. There''s like 25 slots and I haven''t used up all of them but if I put the same thing in twice, it only uses one box." Sparky nodded, touching the pen to the notebook once again when he paused, glancing up at Greg again. "Can you carry anything?" "Anything I can lift, I think," Greg replied, head tilting slightly. Sparky''s mouth rose in a slight smile. "What about¡­ people?" Greg tensed, his face paling as he recalled exactly what he did have in his inventory. "... Idontthinkso!" "Okaaay, just trynna make a joke." His friend raised an eyebrow and Greg tried his hardest not to gulp. "Brah, what do you have in that inventory anyway?" Greg could hear the confusion in Sparky''s voice, something about him giving his friend a clear hint that something was off. "Uhh, n-nothing really big," Greg began, glancing down at his bare feet. "Just some random stuff. A baseball bat, hockey stick, some cigarettes and knives I got off a few Merchants, my costume¡­" Greg let his voice trail off. "Hold up," Sparky turned his full attention to Greg, head cocked to the side. "Costume? Lemme see, brah." "Sure," Greg blinked, relaxing at the change of topic. Oh, that was close. "No problem. [Inventory: Equip Aluminum Bat, Jason Mask, Pretentious Scarf, Nike Zoom, Thick Hoodie, Kickboxing Gloves.] "Holy shit, brah!" Sparky exclaimed, jumping up from the couch as a set of torn and bloodstained clothes appeared on Greg''s body with visible flashes of blue light. A hand went to his chest as he stared at Greg, wide-eyed and obviously freaked out. "Why does it look like you just got off the set of Friday the 13th?" "I mean," Greg shrugged, gesturing with the bat in his hands. "I told you I fought some guys." "Okaaaay," Sparky goggled, stepping back even further to avoid being touched by the bat. "You look like you did a hell of a lot more than fight ''em, brah." The silence stretched between them for a long moment before Greg let out a trickle of nervous laughter. "What? No way. C''mon." "Whatever," Sparky shook his head, plopping himself back onto the couch. That was close. Greg let out another sigh of relief, letting his head fall. "[Inventory: Equip Last Outfit.]" With that vocal command, his bloody clothes vanished in another flare of blue, replaced by the pair of black shorts Sparky had loaned him. I gotta get rid of that body somehow. It''s taking up space in my inventory, anyway. "You know," Sparky spoke up a moment later, raising his head again, "I can probably get you something better than that." "Hmm?" "A costume, brah," Sparky continued, "I could make you a better one than¡­ what you had on before." He shook his head slightly, tilting it toward Greg as he shot his friend a look. "Something that won''t make you look like a knockoff serial killer, you know." "Thanks, Sparks." Greg replied, smiling brightly. "Don''t mention it," his friend remarked. "Seriously, it''s the least I can do to make sure that a. You don''t get yourself killed out there, and b. You don''t fucking embarrass yourself." Greg''s smile brightened further, widening into an impressive grin. "Thanks, man. That''s super awesome of you!" "Mmhmm, speaking of embarrassing yourself," Sparky gave him a wry glance, "you got a date tomorrow, right?" Greg nodded, his smile shifting into nervousness. "Oh, yeah. That''s¡­ tomorrow." "It is. Being a good bro, I gotta make sure you make a good impression, right?" Strands of brown hair fell in front of his eyes, giving him a slightly shadowed expression. "...I guess so," Greg hedged, shrinking against the wall as his friend stood up, wearing a smile on his face that could only be described as¡­ eager. "Good." For some reason, Greg found himself wincing at the way Sparky dragged out the word. 7:42 PM "..." Greg stared at his reflection in Sparky''s bathroom mirror, eyes wide. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "Well," Sparky''s hands clasped his towel-covered shoulders, leaning over him and flashing a wry smile into the mirror, "whaddya think? Am I good or what?" "...or what." His response was met with a snort as Sparky reached over and dropped the scissors into the sink. "Don''t lie. You love it." Greg blinked. "I mean, it''s not objectively bad." He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to stare at the sides of the cut. "It''s just¡­" Sparky rolled his eyes. "Just what, blondie?" "Does it have to be so spiky?" "What''s wrong with spiky?" Greg let out a groan, his now-incredibly spiky head falling into his open palms. "I look like the mayor of Flavortown." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 247/295
Mana 165/165
Willpower 145/145
STR 29 SPD 21
VIT 15 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 6(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $796.22
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Angry Straight Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 55 Cost: 7 Will Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 7 (XP: 30%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Increases innate running speed by 5% with every level when active Cost: 5 Will every ten seconds. Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 1 (XP: 25%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 27 (XP: 8%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 2 (XP: 15%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Buff 3.11 Buff 3.11 Saturday, March 26 2011 5:07 PM The house itself was impressive, not for its size as it was far from the largest house he had seen in this neighborhood, let alone in his life. No, it was impressive simply due to how well-maintained it looked, at least on the outside. Almost like those houses you see on TV shows, perfectly put-together like it was set to be on the cover of Good Housekeeping or something. Perfectly trimmed hedges, freshly painted walls, and grass so neatly trimmed, you wouldn''t be at fault for thinking a team of people went over it with a pair of scissors. Even the siding was-Oh my god, stop it! Greg shook his head, raking a hand down his face. Stop trying to distract yourself. Greg let out a breath, forcing a smile as he stood at the door. You''re already here. He stood at the doorstep of the house, hands only slightly trembling at his sides. He had texted Emma an hour ago that he was on his way to pick her up and that he needed her address. That had been an hour he had to schedule a taxi to meet him at Emma''s place, fib to his mom that he was going to Sparky''s house, and shower/get dressed in the basement before sneaking out of the house to take a bus down to Emma''s neighborhood. That one hour of preparation and confidence couldn''t stand up to five minutes of anxiety and nerves. It had, in fact, been almost a good five minutes since he had gotten here, walking up the pathway to the magazine-worthy home with an expensively arranged bouquet of roses clutched tightly in his right hand. Five minutes he had spent trying his hardest to work up the nerve to push the doorbell or even raise his fist to knock at the door. Five minutes. A shaky hand rose up to his neck, lightly pulling at the collar of his blue striped dress shirt. The same hand rose even higher, gently patting his freshly spiked hair. While his mom hadn''t been a big fan of his new do, Greg had to admit that, while it did make him look like a Kingdom Hearts character, he did kinda like it. Or maybe he liked it because it made him look like a Kingdom Hearts character. Either way, he had actually touched up his hair, spiking it a little more before he had rushed out of the house to avoid his mother asking him weird questions like, "Where are you going?" or "Why are you dressed like that?". He didn''t exactly have styling gel either but according to the internet toothpaste worked just fine. Judging by how sharp his hair felt right now, it was rather effective. He brought his fingers to his nose and took a tentative sniff. Now, if only he didn''t smell like spearmint. "Can I help you?" For a quick moment, Greg froze, a bolt of nervous fear rushing through him as a feminine voice came from behind him, the husky tones unfamiliar to him.
[Paralyzing Nerves] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Just like that, Greg let out a relaxed sigh, a soothing sense of calm washing away the accumulated stress he had been feeling. Thank you, Gamer''s Mind. Forcing a bright smile onto his face, Greg spun slowly on his heels, ready to face whoever had spoken to him. A moment later, his fake smile dimmed ever so slightly, his eyes widening just as much. He was ashamed to say that his first thought was ''Whoa. Emma got tall.'' Because that''s what it was. Emma, but older. Taller. Bigger. And blonde. He couldn''t forget the blonde hair.
[Distracted By The Sexy] Debuff applied
All in all, as composed as he was thanks to Gamer''s Mind, this was not an image that Greg was prepared for. So, he stood there, eyes wide, trying to formulate a sentence. Seconds passed and the woman stood there, arms folded under her impressive chest as she shot Greg a curious look. He blinked, still moving his mouth soundlessly as he tried to think of something to say. The woman was rather pretty and judging by how she looked like a slightly older and slightly more curvy version of Emma, Greg could only imagine that she had to be her mother. I wonder if she had surgery like mom. Must have been a better surgeon ''cause she looks super-duper young. Insanely good for like¡­ what, forty? "Well¡­" Not-Emma tilted her head, staring up at him from the bottom of the steps as she tapped her foot on the granite and marble pathway. "I''m waiting." "Hiya." Greg slammed his eyes shut the moment the word left his mouth and opened them a moment later. In his head, he began screaming. Hiya? Why Hiya? Who says that? She blinked slowly, Greg''s perky response actually confusing her. A moment later, she recovered and shot him another look, raising an eyebrow as if to say ''really?'' "Hiya?" "Yep." Greg nodded with a wide smile, still screaming internally as his mouth kept going. "It''s a colloquialism, commonly used in England more so than the United States. Much more popular around the 40s than now but whaddya gonna do? That''s English for you. People use it differently." Greg cut himself off with a rictus of a grin, his teeth grinding into each other. "Uh-huh," Not-Emma pursed her lips. "So¡­" "Sorry about that," Greg interrupted, quickly walking down the steps. Okay, you can save yourself. Say hi to Emma''s mom and you can save yourself. "My name''s Greg. Greg Veder." As he said it, he thrust a hand out for not-Emma to shake, doing his best to salvage the introduction. Perfect. Gentlemanly. Good stuff, Greg. Rather than return the handshake, Emma''s surprisingly young-looking mother simply glanced down at his hand before raising her head again. That single eyebrow seemed to be stuck in that position, raised so high that Greg was surprised it wasn''t part of her hair by now. "Are those for me?" The question made Greg blink, his head tilting as he tried to find context. His eyes flicked down to his right hand, mouth falling open slightly as he took in the roses in his outstretched hand. He gaped for a moment, before snapping his mouth shut and stared back at not-Emma, the woman now smiling as if she found something funny. Floundering to recover, Greg held out the bouquet again, his hand only shaking slightly this time. "...umm, d-do you want them?" She laughed this time. Actually laughed. A low, husky sound that reminded him a lot of Emma despite her laughter sounding nothing like Emma''s girlish giggles. With one hand cocked on her hip and a curious smile on her lips, she waved him off. "No, it''s fine. You can keep them." "Thanks¡­ uhh, yeah, thanks," Greg flushed, shuffling his feet slightly as he stood in place on the steps. "My name''s Greg¡­ and I already said that, didn''t I?" he continued, his voice trailing off as his face reddened further. Not-Emma laughed again, visibly relaxing as she did so, and Greg offered his own weak laugh in response. "Well, Greg, you can call me Anne. Anne Barnes." "Umm, thank you. I mean, not thank you, thank you. I''m not thanking you for giving me your name. Just¡­ saying thank you, because¡­ I don''t know." Greg halted there, letting out an internal groan as he tried to get his thoughts in order. "What I''m trying to say is that it''s nice to meet you." Greg paused again, suddenly fearing he was approaching another land mine. She is the mom, right? Not a sister or a young aunt or something? "Nice to meet you¡­" his voice hitched, Greg''s already awkward smile weakening slightly, "Ms Barnes?" Ms can be used for married and unmarried, right? Yeah, I''m pretty sure. "Ms?" Ms. Barnes blinked and shot him another odd look before smirking again. "Okay, you can just call me Anne." "Hehe¡­ okay, Anne," Greg chuckled awkwardly as he continued staring. Maybe not mom. Sister, then? Probably sister. Looks young enough to be sister. "You''re here for Emma, right?" Her next question shocked him back into focus. "Yes! I mean, yeah. I am." Greg lowered his head to clear his throat before continuing. "Here for Emma, I mean." He flashed an eager smile that bore more than a few hints of his nervousness. "We¡­ uh¡­ umm, kinda have a date today." Anne''s curious smile rose into a playful grin as she gave Greg a very obvious once-over, prompting another blush from him. "Huh, a date?" "Yep." "No offense but, well..." Greg winced at those words, well aware that people only said that when they were going to say something someone else wouldn''t like. "You don''t really seem like her type." "I guess," Greg shrugged, brushing off the comment. He was well aware of where he stood when it came to Winslow''s social ladder. Sure, he was as near the bottom as one could get but Emma saw something in him, right? Enough for her to kiss him, stand up for him, and agree to go on a date with him, too. So, it wasn''t like he had no chance at all. "You definitely don''t dress like the type of guy she''d go out with," Emma''s sister continued, giving him another glance. Greg slightly frowned at that. That one was actually kinda mean. He had raided his closet for what to wear and he felt he had done a pretty good job. What was wrong with a blue button-down, a gray sweater vest, and a pair of tan corduroys? Was Emma not a fan of business casual or something? "Although," Anne''s voice interrupted his musing, "all things considered, that''s probably a good thing." "It is?" Greg blinked. "Sure, it is." Anna smirked and began to walk up the steps, Greg stepping aside to let her pass. Pulling a key from the purse at her side, she opened the white door and took a step over the threshold. She turned to face him, gesturing for him to enter. "Well?" "Huh?" Greg blinked, looking confused for a moment. "Oh yeah, sorry." Hurrying up the steps, he stepped into the house behind Anne. A moment later, he was blinking at the inside of the house, marveling at how polished and bright everything looked. Again, Greg was struck with how immaculate the house appeared, both inside and out looking like they belonged in a magazine. "Annie, who''s this?" Apparently, the house wasn''t the only thing that looked like it belonged in a magazine. A woman walked down the tall stairs of the Barnes house, one hand gently resting on the banister as she made her way down. Greg found himself gulping as the stunning woman hit the bottom step and seemed to glide over to the front door, his eyes trailing over her stunning figure and the tight jeans that seemed to fit her hips just right. The same way Anne was a slightly older, taller and curvier version of Emma, this woman was the same for Anne, older, tallier and curvier with her own blonde hair wafting down her shoulders in vibrant waves of honey. Anne stepped forward in front of him, slightly blocking his image of the beauty in front of him to his dismay. "Mom, this is Greg. He''s here for Emma." Mom? Greg blinked. So, Anne definitely is the sister. "Oh, is that so?" The angelic figure glided over, her lips pursed into a playful expression as she glanced down at Greg, bending ever just enough to make things dangerous for him. "And why do you want to see my daughter?" Greg gulped as he made his best effort to keep eye contact, a herculean effort far more strenuous than any form of weight-lifting. "Uhhh¡­ I¡­ umm, I mean, we have a date today." He hesitated, blinking rapidly. "At least, I thought so¡­ uhh, ma''am." Emma had been the one to text her address to him after he had asked. Did she not tell anyone that he was coming over or¡­ "A date? With a cute young man like you?" She smiled warmly at him and Greg blushed again, tapping his light brown dress shoes on the polished wood floor. "I knew she was going out but she didn''t tell me anything like that." "I mean, uh¡­ if it''s not okay with you, uh, ma''am. The d-date thing, I mean," Greg gulped, face like a tomato at this point. "I can, you know, j-just¡­ uhh, head home." In all honesty, Greg would rather not have to head home, but he doubted he could say no to her. Anne snickered, shaking her head as she walked right past Greg and her mother into the brightly-lit living room, dropping heavily onto the couch. "Isn''t he cute, mom? I bet Daddy would just hate him." Greg blinked. What? "He is," she cooed in response, chuckling slightly. "And your father absolutely would." Greg tilted his head. "Umm¡­ excuse me, Mrs. Barnes," he hesitated, unsure of how to phrase this, "Umm, hate me?" The woman laughed lightly, eyebrows raised slightly. "Don''t worry your little head about that. Mr. Barnes is just very careful about protecting his girls." She winked. "You know how dads are." "I understand. Thank you," Greg replied, gripping the bouquet just a bit tighter. "So polite, and he brought roses." A perfectly manicured hand rose to her chest. "I don''t see how Alan could possibly dislike you for long. Would you like me to call Emma down for you?" Greg nodded. "Thank you, ma''am."
Through making a good first impression, you have gained 1 point of CHA.
"Emma!" The beauty cupped her hand around her mouth as she called, the action stretching her tight blouse even more and forcing Greg to orient his gaze even higher. "Someone''s here for you!" "Coming!" Emma''s voice sounded out from upstairs. "Well, you heard her," Emma''s mother turned back to Greg and Anne, flashing them a brilliant smile. "While we''re waiting forever for my daughter, would you like me to get you something to drink, Greg?" A tall glass of hot MILF, please. Greg blinked as the thought passed through his mind and he gulped again, nervously hoping his mouth wouldn''t outrace his brain this time. Been spending way too much time with Sparky. "I''m p-perfectly fine, Mrs. Barnes. No need to t-trouble yourself or anything." "Oh, aren''t you the little gentleman?" she cooed, head tilting slightly to the side. "You can call me Zoe, you know. All Emma''s little friends do." "T-thank you, Mrs. B-" Greg paused, letting out a slightly nervous laugh. "I mean, Zoe." She flashed him another warm smile and opened her mouth to say something only to be cut off. "Hey there, Greg." Emma appeared at the top of the stairs, one hand resting on the banister exactly the way her mom did. Greg waved back awkwardly, a little bit stunned by how pretty she looked. Rather than respond with anything articulate, Greg simply blinked and said, "Wow." Emma flashed him a smile while her mother fought back one of her own. "Thanks, Greg." The boy in question nodded, his expression slightly dazed. Her teeth are so white. As Emma started down the stairs, his gaze went to her outfit. The redhead had on blue jeans, obviously pre-faded and ripped in the way Greg had never really thought made sense, a white U-neck t-shirt and a long black cardigan with a bright red floral print. As Emma neared him, his right hand rose and Greg thrust out the bouquet of roses, fifty dollars of flowers clutched tightly in his grip. "I¡­ I got these for you." Emma''s gaze flicked from the flowers to Greg''s hair, her eyes widening for a moment before she seemed to recover and gave him a smile in return, taking the flowers from Greg''s slightly trembling hand. "Thank you, Greg. That''s so sweet of you." The blond boy laughed nervously, his voice jumping slightly higher than he would like. "It''s no problem." "I''ll take those," Emma''s mother lifted the flowers from her daughter''s hands and patted her on the cheek, "and put them in some water in your room so they stay fresh. How''s that sound, sweetie?" "Thanks, mom." Emma beamed up at her mother and Greg once again found himself blinking at how much they looked like sisters, considering her mom had to be nearing forty at the very least. Definitely had some surgery. He tilted his head, giving her body a quick once-over. Yep, definitely surgery. "You know, you all look really alike." Greg blurted out suddenly, gaze flicking to Anne in the living room before going back to Zoe and Emma, cheeks flushed as he realized he said that aloud. "Sorry, it''s just¡­ it was a little confusing." "I guess." Emma blinked, her smile fading slightly. "Confusing how, though?" Anne''s head perked up from where she sat, glancing over at the three of them with a look of clear interest plastered over her face. Greg let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his head with a palm. "Funny story," He chuckled again, staring between the two Barnes women in front of him, "I thought¡­ see, you''re gonna laugh here¡­ I kinda maybe, possibly, thought your sister might have been your mom." Both Emma and her mother''s smile froze, their lips slamming shut as they tightly pursed their lips at the same time. The redhead just blinked at Greg in surprise while her mother laughed openly, shooting glances at her oldest daughter as she walked off into the kitchen with the roses in hand. From her spot on the couch, Anne''s face contorted into a disgusted grimace and she rose to a sitting position to give Greg a look. "Really?" "Sorry?" The Emma lookalike on the couch rolled her eyes, letting her head fall back against the couch cushions. "I retract my cute comment. Teenage boys are stupid." Emma scoffed, one hand flicking her hair back behind her ear as she glanced over at her sister. "You just turned twenty. Your dating pool is basically all teenage boys." "Doesn''t make them not stupid." Now, it was Emma''s turn to roll her eyes as she turned back to face Greg. "So, do you want to leave now?"
Quest Created! Save the Date Details: Ensure that Emma Barnes enjoys your date. Success: Increased reputation with Emma Barnes, Increased reputation with Anne Barnes, Increased reputation with Zoe Barnes, Severely decreased reputation with Alan Barnes, + 2 Stat Point, 1 CHA, [? ability], 1,500 xp Failure: None Bonus: Get a proper good-night kiss.
Greg''s gaze flicked back down from the pop-up, a natural grin spreading across his face. "Sure!" 7:25 PM "So," Greg cleared his throat, a nervous tic more than anything else, "did you like it?" Emma glanced up from her menu and blinked twice, tilting her head. "Oh, you''re asking me?" "Yes. I mean, yeah, I am," Greg stammered. "I mean, we are here. Together. Not together, together, but you know¡­" His mouth continued to run as Emma stared at him, green eyes seeming to draw out the nerves in him the longer he looked into them. "...together." Emma put down the menu in her hands, laying the item flat against the white tablecloth, all without taking her eyes off of Greg. "I''m sorry, Greg but I didn''t hear a word you just said." The blond let out a stuttering laugh under his breath. "Yeah, sorry¡­ about that. I-I-I have a tendency to ramble and talk really fast¡­ on occasion¡­ sorry." Emma shook her head, a light smile tugging at her lips. "Relax, it wasn''t you. I was just looking at this menu." Does she not like the food or something? Greg blinked, "Something wrong?" Emma gave him a wry grin, an expression on her face that clearly said, ''Are you serious?'' before glancing around at the other diners inside the well-lit restaurant. "Umm, Greg, It''s not the fanciest place but it''s still pretty nice." "Yeah, I know. Why do you think I came here?," Greg''s smile lost a bit of its luster, "Well, that and it''s the nicest place I could find that I didn''t need a reservation for. My family used to come here a lot." "Okay," Emma still looked unsure as she glanced at the menu again, "but it''s still kind of expensive." "Emma, you can order what you want. I can pay for it," Greg assured her, smile brightening. He knew exactly what he was saying, having been here dozens of times that he could remember. "Greg, you''re seriously joking. the cheapest entree on the menu is $34 dollars." Sighing, Greg put his own menu down. The most expensive single item that Emma could possibly order was a Ribeye Tomahawk Steak priced at just over one-hundred and twenty dollars but he doubted that she would even order anything half that price. "What kinda date would this be if I took you out and I couldn''t afford to pay for it? You can get whatever you want." She stared at him, a hand on her chin while giving him a slightly unbelieving look. For a few long moments, her eyes seemed to scan his face, as if looking for something. After a while, she spoke again. "You''re sure." It wasn''t a question. "No girl on a date with Greg Veder ever pays for anything" Greg''s mouth opened into a grin. I mean, you''re the first so it counts, right? Stolen story; please report. Emma glanced back at the menu. "Just trust me." "Okay," her lips twitched up in a slight smile. "If you say so." 7:40 PM Their orders delivered, Greg dove in to his filet mignon and potato wedges with vigor while Emma picked at her kale and lobster tail salad with much less enthusiasm. He did notice that she cast certain glances at his plate from time-to-time but he wasn''t really sure what that was all about. "So," he started, a glass of iced tea in hand, "you never answered my question. Did you like it?" Emma raised her gaze from the salad, giving Greg a curious look. "Like what?" "The movie. You know, The Dark Fields?" Greg clarified, referring to the psychological sci-fi thriller that they had just spent almost two hours at. "Oh that," Emma frowned, her nose wrinkling as if she smelled something foul. "I thought it was really stupid." "Hmm?" Greg sat up, fork frozen in mid-stab. "It was," Emma continued, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders as she began speaking. "On an earth without capes, some random gets his hands on a brain drug that''s obviously Tinker-made but they expect us to believe some regular guys made it in a lab somewhere. Even though a Tinker drug like that would be sold for like hundreds of thousands of dollars a bottle, some broke college kids can afford it?" Emma snorted, rolling her eyes as she tapped her painted nails on the tablecloth, "Like, pull the other one, you know." "I can¡­ yeah, I guess I can see your point," Greg shrugged. "Right?" Emma scoffed, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "And the main guy was such a fucking flake. You''re basically a cape in a world of no capes and what do you with this power? You write a stupid book, sleep with random girls and just generally waste your power in the stock market," The girl paused to take a sip from her glass of ice water. As she brought her lips away from the straw, she turned back to Greg. "Instead of using it to, I don''t know, do something, he wastes his time doing whatever and then in the end, he got arrested." Greg frowned, shaking his head slightly. "Well, I guess it wouldn''t have been much of a story if he was really thinking straight." After a moment of silence, Emma spoke up again. "So, what would you have done, Greg?" Greg blinked, caught off-guard by the question. "Done?" "Yeah, with the power in that movie." She leaned forward, her eyes almost gleaming as she stared deeply into Greg''s. "What would you do if you were the only cape around and had a Thinker power that good?" Greg kept his eyes open, swallowing nervously as he tried not to blink under Emma''s scrutinizing gaze. "I¡­ I would get money, become famous, have fun and mess around." "Really?" Emma frowned, a hand reaching up to brush her hair back again. "That''s all you''d do with powers?" Greg shrugged. "What else would you really want to do?" "What about being a hero?" Emma scoffed in response to Greg''s apathetic comment. "A villain? Becoming president? Taking over a small country or whatever. Something real." "Being a hero''s just fighting bad guys, basically, and being a villain is just fighting good guys. The other two just sound like a lot of work," Greg shrugged again, going back to cutting his steak. "Sure, that could be fun but no one wants to make that their goal in life, right?" Emma smirked. "And goofing around with powers is a good goal to have?" "It''s a better one than punching randoms in the face all day. You''d have to be seriously messed up in the head to be cool with that." Greg paused, thinking for a moment before he rested his elbow on the table, his fork pointed down. "Like, no offense, but look at Sophia." Emma''s eyes narrowed. "What about Sophia?" Greg tugged at his collar, making a slight groaning sound. "Just saying, Sophia probably would be cool with hurting people all day. I mean, you said it yourself¡­" "I know," Emma sighed, shaking her head. "She can be a little much sometimes." "Excessively aggressive were your exact words but that''s j¡­" Greg trailed off as Emma fixed him with a look. "No offense, but you did say it." "No offense," Emma echoed back. "Come on, Emma," Greg brought his hands up in mock surrender, "Look, I''m a pretty nice guy." "You''re also super modest," Emma retorted, rolling her eyes playfully. Catching the sarcasm, Greg smiled back. "Thank you. I try to stay grounded." Emma seemed to smile in spite of herself, actually trying to fight the grin that was growing on her face. "Just finish what you were gonna say." "Okay, look," Greg began, "If I woke up tomorrow with Eidolon''s powers, the worst I''d do is play fun pranks on people, make little kids laugh and generally just be a giant, super-powered joker. A lot of people don''t know this about me but I don''t take myself that seriously." The redhead across from him pursed her lips, her mouth just two flat lines as she tried her best not to smile. "A lot of people don''t know that?" "Nope," Greg popped the ''p'' and grinned at Emma''s expression as she tried not to laugh, "What I was saying about Sophia before, though¡­ do you honestly think she wouldn''t go overboard like at least, a little?" Greg brought his finger and his thumb together to emphasize his point. Emma offered him a wistful smile. "And your point is?" "I dunno," Greg shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. Maybe not the best idea to say I think Sophia would try to murder people. "A lot of what I say doesn''t really have points. It''s just things I think, yaknow?" "You''re pretty funny, Greg," Emma replied, shaking her head slightly. "Sometimes, I guess," Greg glanced down at the menu, already bored of his fifty-dollar steak. "Wanna get dessert?" Emma blinked, surprised by the change of topic. "Umm, I don''t think I should." "What?" Greg snorted, "Are you watching your figure or something?" he mocked, laughter clear in his voice. Emma tilted her head. "Basically, yeah. I do model, you know." "Oh, yeah," the blonde pulled a face. A moment later, he brightened. "I have an idea, though?" "What?" "I''ll watch your figure for you," Greg offered with a grin. Pursing her lips, Emma raised one eyebrow at Greg''s wording. "You''ll watch my figure for me?" "Yeah," Greg grinned, oblivious to what he just said, "I''ll pick a low-cal dessert and we can share it. That way, it''ll be like even less calories or whatever, you know." For a few long seconds, Emma was silent, just staring at Greg as he continued to grin at her. When she didn''t say anything, Greg''s grin dissipated slightly and he leaned in slightly. "Emma?" Then, she grinned back. "You know what? Go ahead and order. I''ll let you watch my figure." Greg wrinkled his nose as Emma put emphasis on the phrase again. "You know what? On second thought, maybe I should have phrased that better." Emma giggled out loud. 8:05 PM "This was nice." "W-was it?" Greg laughed, his stuttering voice and the hand tapping against his side betraying his nerves. "I honestly wasn''t sure." Emma raised her eyebrow, stepping in just a bit closer to Greg and making his heart race just that much faster. "How come?" "Uhhh, well, I took you to a movie you hated, I insulted your friend, I made a ton of terrible jokes, might have made fun of your w..." Greg blinked, his train of thought suddenly derailed as Emma suddenly took another step closer. The scent of her hair hit him like a perfumed hammer to the skull, a jasmine aroma bringing back wonderful memories. "Don''t worry," she beamed at him, the porch light above their heads giving her an almost-halo like glow, making her smile that much more beautiful to Greg. "It was a great first date." Greg chuckled, a hand going to the back of his head. "R-really? That good?" Emma laughed too, giggling into her hand. "Honestly, the best I''ve had," her nose wrinkled slightly, "like, ever. And the food was only part of the reason." "The food was only part of the reason?" Greg blinked. "Wow, you must have had some stinkers, then, huh?" "Oh my god, Greg," She giggled again, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Stop it." "If you say so," the blond grinned back, his tone playful. "But if you ever feel like going on another great one, you know, just call me. I''ll put something together." Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Please. Say. Yes. "I¡­" Emma blinked, pursing her lips, "I''d actually love that." Greg''s mouth opened as he let out a breathy laugh, an expression of excitement on his face. "That''s¡­ awesome!" That moment, an idea hit him and Greg decided to act on it. "C-can I kiss you?" Emma''s smile took on a different turn, her eyes almost shining as they lowered half-way. Her eyelashes fluttered slowly as she took another step closer to Greg, their faces almost touching now. "Do you really want to?" Is she asking me this right now? What should I say? Yes? No? Do girls like it if guys kiss on the first date? What''s the protocol here? The teen was frozen in front of his date, his brain almost smoking as he tried to think of what to do. Emma, on the other hand, was simply waiting for Greg to say/do something. "Umm, Greg?" Just do something! Acting entirely on nerves and impulse, Greg moved forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Just like last time, she tasted sweet, her own lips reminding him faintly of strawberries. An idle part of his mind wondered if that was her lip gloss or just the slice of strawberry cake they shared half an hour ago. The rest of him didn''t care.
Quest Success! "Save the Date" Completed Details: Ensure that Emma Barnes enjoys your date. Gained 1,500 xp Gained 2 Stat Points Gained 1 CHA Gained [Seduction] Bonus Objective Completed: + 1,500 XP, + 2 Stat Points, + 3 CHA
Ability Gained! Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level.
There was nothing to think about. Just him, her, and¡­ "Oh, hi, Daddy!" Her lips tore away from him suddenly, leaving him hanging there in the air with his lips out, the taste of strawberry still fresh in his mind. His eyes slowly opened, a bright light shining on them, to see the door to Emma''s house open and a figure standing there with his arms crossed. With a feeling like a cold shower, Emma''s words suddenly dawned on him. Fuck. Alan Barnes was a pretty big man. If Greg had to guess, he was about seven or so inches taller than him, without shoes. With that size, he certainly could loom. And right now, as he stood in front of Greg with an expression grimmer than any reaper, Greg thought that maybe size did matter. "Emma¡­" Alan began, voice gruff and gravelly like a pack-a-day smoker. Oh my god, it''s Batdad! Greg thought to himself, struggling between backing away and laughing uncontrollably. "Yeah, daddy?" Emma''s voice was much higher now, the slightly husky voice he was used to nowhere to be found. "Please go inside." "Okay, Daddy. Bye, Greg! I had a great time!" As Emma slid around her father to enter the house, she winked at him. He hoped that was a signal that her dad wouldn''t try to kill him. He really didn''t want to have to lie to Emma and say he had no idea why her dad was missing. He definitely wasn''t going to tell the truth either. After all, Greg doubted the phrase, "It was self defence" would ever get him another kiss. "So," Alan began, "Greg, is it?" Unsure of what to do, Greg did what he did best. He acted on his very first impulse. "Hiya!" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 295/295
Mana 165/165
Willpower 145/145
STR 29 SPD 21
VIT 15 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 13(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $796.22
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Angry Straight Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 55 Cost: 7 Will Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 7 (XP: 30%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Increases innate running speed by 5% with every level when active Cost: 5 Will every ten seconds. Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 1 (XP: 25%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 27 (XP: 8%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 2 (XP: 15%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Buff 3.12 Buff 3.12 Sunday March 27, 2011 "Do it." "Dude, are you sure about this?" "Totally." Greg replied, rolling his shoulders in preparation. He was shirtless once again, exposing a defined torso with visible muscle growth. "Mmmm, I don''t think so, brah," Sparky''s voice was hesitant, one hand scratching his head as he gave Greg a look. "Like, any other idea would be better than this, I think." "Come on, Sparky," Greg sighed, "I need this. I''m pretty sure it''ll work too." "Pretty sure?" The disbelief in his friend''s tone spiked, his voice almost sounding insulted. "Just¡­" Greg shook himself, turning his back to Sparky, "just do it before I change my mind." The two of them were back at Sparky''s house again, specifically the teen''s basement, Greg deciding to come over because his mom had picked up a Sunday shift again. With her gone, there wasn''t much purpose at staying home alone by himself. Especially when he could work out. So, Sparky''s house it was. Sparky shook his head, his lips tightly pressed together as he played with the object in his hands. Again and again, he turned it over, carefully avoiding the metallic tip as he spun it in his palm. "I feel like you should change your mind. Shit''s gonna hurt, man." Come on already. "And? It''s worked before." Sparky was silent for a moment before his voice lit up, far more enthusiastic than it had been a moment before. "Oh, that reminds me, you never told me what happened with you and Emma''s dad." Greg blinked, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Wait, how does that remind you of Emma''s dad?" "You know," Sparky hedged, his voice uncertain, "he has a job¡­ working¡­ I just connected them. Forget it, just tell me what happened." "Sparky, I know what you''re doing. Stop stalling." Gritting his teeth, Greg shut his eyes and crossed his arms, waiting for his friend to go ahead. After almost five seconds of waiting, he poked one eye open and let out a frustrated sigh. "Sparky, I don''t have all day so just do it alr-eeeeggggggghhhh!" -15
[Muscle Paralysis] Debuff applied Unable to move for two seconds.
Greg let out a gargling screech as Sparky jabbed the object into his back, a wave of pain passing through his body as his muscles locked up and he heard a violent, angry buzzing noise. His legs gave out from under him and he dropped to the ground like a fallen tree, body twitching like a seizure patient. Breathing heavily, he stared up at the gray ceiling of Sparky''s unfinished basement, the plastic wrap they had laid out on the floor uncomfortable against his back. "MOTHERFUCK, THAT HURT!"
New Ability Gained! Resistance: Electricity Lv 1 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (1%)
"You good, brah?" His friend''s face appeared at the side of his field of vision, standing above him like a giant. "I told you, this is a Striker-lite name-brand Taser. It''s a self-defense taser, not some fake shit." Sparky clicked a button and a powerful beam of white light flooded his vision for a second. "It''s also a super-strong flashlight." "That''s nice, but," Greg let out a pained laugh despite the fact that the pain was already dissipating, albeit a bit slower than usual. "If I say I''m not good, will you say I told you so?" "Nah, man." "Yay," Greg replied weakly. Sparky dropped down, squatting to the side of his friend''s downed body, eyebrow raised in a quizzical expression. "Just gonna call you a dumbass ''cause you obviously didn''t know how a taser feels." Sparky held out a hand. "I''m honestly surprised your hair didn''t get any spikier from that shock." "Shut up." Greg let out a groan as he grabbed on to Sparky''s hand, letting himself be pulled up. He was well aware that he would have to repeat this over and over until he felt like his new ability reached a high enough level. Still, did it have to hurt so much? "How many charges does that thing have, anyway?" "Dunno," Sparky shrugged. "I think, like fifty." Greg threw his head back in a loud groan. "This is gonna hurt so frickin'' much."
You have gained 2 VIT. Electricity Resistance Level Up x 7
Sparky''s punch slammed into his jaw with the force of a hammer, teeth rattling in his skull as his head snapped back. -19 Greg would know, after all. He''d been well acquainted with all manner of blunt objects recently. Letting out a pained grunt, he took an involuntary step back, blinking away the pain just in time for Sparky to throw another one. -24 He felt his nose crack, blood spraying from his nostrils in a spurt of red. A pained grunt burst from his lips as his hand flew to his face to clutch the organ and staunch the bleeding.
[Minimal Bleeding] Debuff applied -1 HP every five seconds for the next minute.
Sparky had on a pair of brass knuckles,a gift his uncle had given him for his twelfth birthday. It had been so long since he''d thought about the weapon, the metal pieces almost entirely forgotten in his dresser. Almost. The cheap gold paint on them was stained with red, blood coating both his friend''s gloved hands and the weapons he held in them. The first ten minutes had been the hardest, of course, Sparky not nearly as eager as Greg was to strike him with the weapons. It had taken a lot of needling and a hell of a lot of whining but the other teen finally gave in. Even after that, the first sight of blood had been almost enough to get Sparky to throw in the towel but Greg''s begging had been enough for him to grit his teeth and continue striking him. Although given the emphatic grunts coming from the covered up form of his friend, he had to wonder if Sparky wasn''t enjoying hurting him at least a little. Pain aside, grinding with Sparky was honestly much more fun than doing it alone and- Oh my god, that sounds so wrong. His thoughts about bad phrasing were interrupted by another frustrated punch by Sparky, his fist slamming into his torso again. -16 The rounded metal knuckles undoubtedly increased the damage he did, Sparky''s punches twice as powerful as they would be alone. He''d have to ask Sparky to borrow them when this was over. Greg grunted again as Sparky struck him hard in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him against the basement wall. Thirty minutes of constant pummeling had earned him 3 VIT points, and two levels in Blunt Force resistance, his HP kept from falling too low with frequent intakes of protein bars. -17 He had wondered exactly why his VIT was jumping up so quickly when it would normally have taken him over twice the amount of time to get the same increase. Maybe because someone else was doing the damage and not him¡­ It was a possibility, Greg guessed, and the most likely one. Despite what he was thinking, he couldn''t exactly voice his opinions, the only thing having left his mouth in the last half hour being spit, blood, grunts, and groans. He had to give his friend props, though, with the way Sparky used the knuckledusters. It was impressive, his fists slamming into Greg''s willing body over and over like he was auditioning for the part of Rocky Balboa. Does that make me Ivan Drago? -14 -12 -14 As Sparky dealt him another damaging punch to the gut, Greg realized that wasn''t a good comparison. No, with the way he was being smacked around, he was more like the slab of frozen meat Rocky trained with. -16
You have gained 1 VIT.
Greg blinked through bleary eyes and raised his hands, waving frantically to ward off his friend. "Dude!" Halting mid-swing, Sparky took a step back. Raising his hands to his face, he pulled down the bandana around his nose and mouth while lifting the safety goggles to his forehead. "What, brah?" His gasping voice betrayed his tiredness, the act of punching Greg for half an hour clearly far more strenuous for him that it was for the person being pummelled. The beads of sweat trailing down his face only confirmed it. "I thought¡­ you said¡­ two hours of this." "Yeah, but I just hit twenty," Greg replied through a rapidly healing mouth, his voice still somewhat muffled as he spoke through bruises and swelling. "Twenty VIT. So, I think we''re good on that. Let''s take a break." Sparky rolled his eyes, and pulled off one bloodstained glove and knuckleduster, letting it drop to the floor before repeating the action with another one. The blood-splattered safety goggles followed right after, landing on the plastic wrap without much of a sound. The last thing to hit the ground was a yellow raincoat with blood splatter all over it, joining the pile of macabre items. "Nah, man," Sparky said, pointing a finger at Greg as the blond leaned against the wall, bruised body slowly healing before his friend''s eyes. "Nah, I''m taking a break. You''re taking a shower. You look like a fucking zombie," he muttered the last bit through clenched teeth. Greg grinned through bloodstained teeth and gave his friend a thumbs-up. "Got it, Sparks." The teen in question ran a hand through his hair before turning around and throwing his hands in the air as he headed for the stairs. "Fuckin'' crazy capes." -1 -2 -1 -3 -1 -1 -1 -1 -1
Ability Level Up Heat Resistance Lv 5 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire" Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%)
You have gained 1 VIT.
"Awesome," Greg muttered, staring at the lighter in his grasp, slowly burning the bottom of his forearm. Hissing slightly, he let go of the lighter wheel, letting the flame die out and allowing the cold air to hit his arm. Despite the persistent pain that was taking a little longer to fade than usual, Greg couldn''t help but be excited at how much improvement he had made today. "Sparky, I leveled it again!" Tired eyes flicked up and gave the blond a bored stare. Sparky sat opposite him on the kitchen island, chewing lazily on a microwave burrito. Greg idly noted that he didn''t bother to make him one but he graciously let it slide. "Am I supposed to care, brah?" He took another bite, grimacing slightly at what was probably an improperly heated piece of meat inside the bulging burrito. "Seriously, I don''t get the hype." Greg returned Sparky''s bored stare with a disbelieving one. "How can you not care right now?" He waved the cheap lighter in his hand in the air, the flame itself extinguished. "I am literally becoming more fireproof as we speak. When I get this to 100%, I will literally no-sell fire. Do you not get how awesome that is?" Sparky raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite. "That''s not that impressive, brah. You know what is impressive?" Greg dropped the lighter and laid his arm flat on the kitchen island, letting out a low hiss as the burned skin of his under-arm touched the polished marble surface. "What?" "How much blood you have in your body. That''s really fuckin'' impressive, right there." He paused, grimacing again. "Like, I probably got a fifth or a quarter of the blood in your body on that plastic wrap in the basement right now." Greg nodded, smiling as he remembered his own grinding sessions. "Yeah, it can be like that," he elevated his eyebrows as he turned in his stool to better face his friend. "It can be like that?" Sparky leaned over. He dropped his burrito heavily on the plastic plate he was eating off of, ignoring the splatter of beans and beef that erupted from it. "It can be like that? Really, brah?" Tan hands slammed onto the table, sending his plate to the edge of the island, in danger of falling over. Greg''s eyes went to the plate, glancing at it and back to Sparky repeatedly. "Uhh¡­ your¡­ your plate?" "Ignore the plate, brah." "I just¡­ uhh," Greg gestured at the plate again, trying to direct his friend''s attention to it''s precarious position. "That''s¡­ uhh¡­ what is that? An El Monterey burrito? Those things are huge. It''ll make a huge mess if it falls." "Make a huge mess?" Sparky sat back on his stool, his body slumping against the island''s surface. "You just don''t get it, do you?" Get what, exactly? Greg blinked. "I mean, not to say that I don''t get you''re talking about," he lied, "but¡­ uh, these floors are like what? Maple plank? Red oak? I''m thinking cherry wood, maybe Brazilian cherry. You don''t want to risk stains on that. It''s quality wood." Sparky held up his hands, signalling for Greg to stop talking before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. After a moment, he opened them again and fixed his friend with another tired look. "First of all, it is Brazilian Cherry. Second, how the fuck do you know that? And third, how often do you bleed yourself like that ''cause that ain''t healthy, cuz." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. "Oh, I uh," Greg shrugged, a wistful smile on his face, "I helped my mom redesign our kitchen when my dad was still around. We used to watch a lot of HGTV together too." Sparky stared at him as he finished, waiting for him to continue. Greg stared back. After a few seconds, Sparky''s mouth dropped open slightly. "Did you forget I asked you other stuff?" "Oh," Greg blinked, shrugging again. "I thought that was a rhetorical question. The most I could''ve done it is seven times, you know. This is literally the one-week anniversary of me having powers." Sparky''s dry look was one for the record books. "Mazel Tov." "Oh, yeah, you''re like a quarter Jewish, aren''t you?" Greg exclaimed, pointing at Sparky. Instead of answering, Sparky set his jaw tightly, narrowing his eyes as Greg unwittingly danced around the question again. "Fine, yeesh. Just messing around." "Answer the question, dumbass." "Well, uh," Greg clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers on the marble surface. "I''ve done it like maybe four times, I think," He held up four fingers. "First time was the tree punching, made my knuckles bleed. Second, I think was using a hammer on my hand until there was like blood everywhere. Cleaned that up with newspapers. Third was a huge wrench that I still have in my inventory. Fourth was a knife. Leveled up my piercing and stabbing resistance pretty good with that baby." Sparky''s mouth opened and closed several times before he just sighed. "You sound so fuckin'' happy about it." "Well, yeah, level ups always feel good. Even better when it''s real, I guess," Greg shrugged, his hand inching toward Sparky''s burrito. "Even better when it''s real," Sparky mocked, sneering slightly. Spotting Greg reaching for his food, he slapped the blond''s hand away "You''re gonna make me kill you one day, you know." "So you were gonna eat that burrito, then? Could have told me," Greg pouted, dropping his cheek onto his upraised palm. "I don''t get what the big deal is. You''re kinda acting weird right now." "I''m acting weird. I''m acting weird?Have you seen my basement?" "I bet you''re glad I came prepared with the plastic wrap, huh?" Greg replied to his friend''s question with a smirk and a question of his own. "Huh?" "Not funny." "A little funny?" the blonde offered, putting his thumb and forefinger together. "No," Sparky snapped, his face serious, "I cleaned it up while you were playing with that fuckin'' lighter. It was literally goddamn American Psycho in there, brah." "Oh, like the raincoat scene?" Greg asked, smile vanishing for a moment. "Yes! The raincoat scene!" Sparky''s voice was a low hiss at this point, his eyes uncharacteristically wide as he slapped a hand on the counter. "I literally wore a fuckin'' raincoat ''cause your blood was everywhere and you''re just okay with this?" "Mmm," Greg vocalized, tilting his head to the side, "To be fair, Hip to Be Square wasn''t playing and you didn''t have an axe so¡­ not the best recreation." "I swear to god, Greg..." A palm went to his head and he seemed to droop where he sat. "Relax, Sparky, it''s not that bad. Honestly, using knives gets way more blood everywhere. It honestly looked like The Shining in my basement, sometimes. Oxidized bleach will get rid of any stains, in case you''re worried." "The m-mess? You think this is about the¡­" For a moment, Sparky just stared at his friend, his tired and exasperated expression shifting to one of dawning realization. A moment later, a weak smile replaced it. "You''re right, brah. Forget the mess, it''s already clean. No big deal. right?" "Thank you," Greg nodded, grinning brightly. "That''s what I''ve been trying to say. No big deal." "Yeah, no big deal," Sparky''s smile twitched slightly. "How about we take a break for a bit? Hook up my laptop to the tv and watch some anime. I can order some pizza or something." Greg frowned, tilting his head. "I guess, if you want. I honestly haven''t been bothered in like a week." Sparky nodded slowly, as if confirming something he had already guessed. "Let me guess, since you got your powers?" Greg nodded along with him, albeit much faster. "Yeah, I guess. Just kinda been busy." Even his mom had noticed that too, although she only mentioned it a couple times. A sound like a mix between a laugh and a long, drawn-out sigh came from Sparky''s mouth. "Yeah, probably." A smile appeared on his face again without warning, confusing Greg slightly until his friend spoke. "So, what do you wanna watch? I downloaded the second version of that Fate anime they got on Aleph, all the episodes too." "C''mon, dude," Greg snorted, already forgetting about the previous topic, "How late do you think I am? I watched that last month. What else you got?" "I got the prequel to Fate, too." "Awesome! I didn''t check that out yet," Greg grinned, laughing out loud as he hopped off the kitchen stool. "What are we waiting for?" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 365/365
Mana 165/165
Willpower 156/156
STR 29 SPD 21
VIT 22 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 13(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Angry Straight Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 55 Cost: 7 Will Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 7 (XP: 30%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Increases innate running speed by 5% with every level when active Cost: 5 Will every ten seconds. Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 1 (XP: 25%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 29 (XP: 5%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Electricity Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 2 (XP: 15%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: Heated Words Cutscene: Heated Words Greg rose from his school desk almost in sync with the rest of his class as the bell rang to dismiss them for the day, grabbing his blue backpack from where he had dropped it unceremoniously by his side. The rest of the class were already talking, their voices adding to the gestalt of all the other students as they began to pour into the hallway. Today was¡­ nice. Nothing much was different, really, apart from he and Emma sharing glances at each other during lunch and sitting next to each other in the one class they shared today. Even class seemed to move much smoother, work he would have struggled with at least a little easily making sense to him. His Geometry teacher had him come to the board twice, both times to solve problems that he was pretty sure Greg didn''t know how to do. Why? The guy was a dick, that''s why. At least, Greg liked to think that. It may also have been because Greg kept drawing attention to himself by playing with his pencil in a very obvious way, i.e., tossing it up in the air and catching it again. In all fairness, he was doing it to grind a skill but it wasn''t like he could tell the teacher that (+ 2 to Throwing Weapons). Dick or not, the teacher had been helpful. Answering the questions correctly had netted him an extra point to his INT, which made that whole class instantly more enjoyable. The fact that the teacher actually complimented him for studying was just the cherry on top. Greg had been noticing little things like that, ways in which he was sure his stats were affecting his time at school. For instance, his bag was full of homework, homework that he had completed in between classes, some of it that he would normally have asked Sparky for help with, like Geometry. Math homework that would have taken him forever to complete on his own, he was completing in five minutes tops, answering almost as fast as he could write. It was insane how much grinding INT was apparently paying off. Still, he wasn''t exactly sure how INT correlated to the real world when it came to actually being smart. After all, he didn''t think he felt smarter but how did one feel smarter, anyway? Frowning, Greg pushed thoughts of vague concepts like that out of his mind, deciding to focus his attention on what he was going to do for the rest of the day. All in all, he really wasn''t sure. He didn''t even consider going over to Sparky''s house to train, well aware that his friend''s mom was most likely home. Simply grinding his stats at home didn''t seem very exciting right now, either. But¡­ Greg tilted his head as he recalled some of the ideas he had come up with at Sparky''s house the other day, watching a marathon of the two Fate series. Maybe I can try and make some new skills. Can''t hurt to try again, right? He nodded to himself slowly. It was more than just a faint feeling of motivation that had him ready to try again. From what he knew, INT governed his amount of mana and as of now, his INT was over three times as high as it had ever been. At this point, he probably had more mana (Od? Prana?) than Shirou did and that guy could make stuff out of magic. If Shirou damn near killed himself for his powers, I can''t give up either. Wish I had an Archer, though. White hair is so frickin'' cool. Nerdy thoughts running through his head, Greg made his way out of the door and into the crowded hallways when a figure bumped into him as he exited, jostling him out of the way in the rush to leave. "Out of the fucking way," a voice grumbled, harsh tones immediately familiar to Greg''s ears. The rushing figure tried to move past Greg without even turning aside to look at him, not bothering to so much as acknowledge his presence. "Hey there, Sophie!" The figure in question froze mid-step. She didn''t turn around, the only sign that she heard his voice being the clenching of her fists at her sides and her still form. After a moment of hesitation, she kept on moving, her head not turning an inch to acknowledge his existence as she stepped through the crowd. Several people standing in the halls parted, Sophia''s urgent pace and squared shoulders a warning in and of themselves to avoid pissing her off. Greg jogged after her, his backpack hanging off his shoulder as he slid past the other students by their lockers or those simply standing and talking. "Hey Sophie, hol-" He stopped mid-word, the girl in question whirling around to face him. The rage in her eyes was only slightly more obvious than usual, her teeth gritted as she hissed out the words, "The fuck do you want?" "Just wanted to ask you something, yeesh," Greg replied, a smile on his face. "It doesn''t hurt to be nice." She huffed, her arms folded over her chest as her glower grew slightly less murderous. "What?" Greg rubbed a non-existent beard, leaning backwards against a wall. "If I''m not wrong," he began, affecting a cultured accent as he continued stroking his hairless chin, "upon conclusion of our duel, the two of us came to an arrangement. An arrangement, of which you''re well aware, in which we decided on the favor owed to my person." Sophia''s frown deepened. "Huh?" "In layman''s terms, we had a deal. No more picking on Taylor and you gotta apologize to her." Greg''s grinned turned slightly devious. "You gotta mean it too." Sophia scoffed, scrunching her face up. "Fuck off Veder, I''ll get around to it." She made to turn around and leave only for Greg to run back in front of her, still smiling. "No, no, no, you''re not doing that," Greg waggled a finger in front of Sophia''s face as he echoed her words back to her, both his grin and his amusement at the way the girl''s left eye twitched. "I won. I pick the time you apologize and I pick right now." "How the fuck do I do that?" Sophia bit back. "Hebert''s probably outside by now." "I don''t think so," Greg mused to himself, glancing up as he tried to remember what he knew of Taylor''s schedule. "I definitely don''t think so." "Why the fuck not?" "Today''s an A Day so she should be at her locker right now picking up her programming textbook. She always opens and closes her locker like two or three times before she leaves to make sure it''s locked right too," Greg replied, grinning as he smacked down Sophia''s escape. "You can probably catch her." "Hold up, weirdo," The dark skinned girl gave him an odd look, staring at him like he was something under her shoe. "How the fuck do you know that?" Greg blinked, taking a step back until he realized he was already against the wall. "N-n-no reason." Trying to change the topic, he gestured frantically down the hall. "Now, make like a Canadian and go say sorry." Her disgusted expression vanished, replaced by one of confusion. "Wait, what?" Greg''s shoulders slumped and he let out a sigh. "Just do it, Sophie." "I told you not to call me that." "And I won our fight so you can''t really talk," Greg replied, chin held high. "Besides. It''s literally one syllable off your name. Is that really the hill you wanna die on?" Greg cocked his head to the side. "You gotta learn to pick your battles, princess." The blond watched as Sophia fumed, the steam almost visible rising from her ears. Fists clenched, she hissed, "I swear to god, you''re gonna fucking regret this, Veder." Greg tilted his head, smiling. "Am I, really?" "Yeah, even worse than that porcupine you call a haircut." "Oooh, that really hurt," Greg faux-complained, clutching his chest. Snorting at the impotent look on Sophia''s face, he pointed a thumb down the other end of the hall. "Just stick to the deal, Sophie." Greg ignored her growling as the girl walked in the direction of Taylor''s locker ahead of him. In a way, he was doing this to help the dark-skinned track star almost as much as he was doing this to help Taylor. If he learned anything from cartoons and television, people felt better after doing good things and as far as he knew, Sophia Hess counted as people. No matter how livid she was now, Greg was sure Sophia would thank him for forcing her to do this. He tilted his head as he stared at Sophia''s back, her fists still clenched tightly. Eventually. Greg couldn''t help but be impressed. Despite how much he knew Sophia did not want to go through with this, she was actually giving this whole apology thing the old college try. Well, not exactly. She almost seemed to be forcing herself to stand there, the other girls surrounding her looking confused as she forced them to apologize too, one by one. Oddly, despite the fact that they obviously looked confused about why Sophia was making them do it, they still went ahead with it. So, she''s doing more than I expected but still looks like she doesn''t want to be there. Is that the old high school try? Greg blinked, shaking his head. Wordplay is hard sometimes. "What are we doing?" Greg flinched at the sudden voice, the figure next to him appearing in his peripheral vision almost out of nowhere. "Sparky, where''d you come from?" The beanie-wearing teen blinked, eyebrow raised. "I''ve been here for like twenty seconds. You''ve been too busy staring at those girls to notice me." Greg blinked, shrugging as he turned back to face the still-apologizing group of girls. "Sorry." "So, what are we doing right now?" Greg stood a few meters away from where Taylor''s locker actually was, hiding behind an open classroom door as he tried to listen to the apologies that Sophia was forcing out of her lackeys. When Greg had followed a good distance behind Sophia over to where he knew Taylor''s new locker was, the two of them had seen the girl surrounded by several of the girls he knew hung around Emma, the chubby girl Becca seemingly in the lead almost pushing Taylor against her locker. Sophia seemed to actually be slightly happy as she spotted the gang around the taller girl. Why, exactly? Greg wasn''t sure at first, assuming that the girl just liked to see Taylor being picked on. A few seconds later, he realized that she just didn''t want to be the only one to have to apologize, easing her own embarrassment by having all the gathered girls go first. Greg explained this to Sparky quickly, the mixed teen smirking as his friend went on.
You have gained 1 CHA.
Sparky snorted, shaking his head as he said, "Dude, that''s fucking hilarious." "I¡­ don''t see how but¡­ okay," Greg shrugged, looking back at the action, "Now, sshh. I''m listening." Listening was a bit of an exaggeration there. He couldn''t exactly hear much with other students still milling around the hallway but paying attention anyway never hurt. Sophia was talking to Taylor now, the bespectacled girl wilting against her locker. It was interesting how, despite her short stature, Sophia Hess could make you feel small. It had never really worked on him because, scary black girl or no, the guys at Winslow had much more threatening bullies to deal with with the Empire and ABB within the same walls. Still, even though he was pretty sure that Sophia was apologizing, he could tell Taylor was somewhat worried, her face showing that she was clearly unsure of what was happening. And just like that, Sophia was done, the girls around her breaking apart and moving their separate ways, all of them with expressions on their face that clearly showed they were lost as to what exactly had just transpired. Sophia glanced back at Taylor and she spoke her final words before walking away, the sentences loud enough for Greg to catch in its entirety, "Not gonna mess with you anymore, Hebert. Not worth it." Taylor stood there alone, back pressed against the locker, her expression morose but guarded as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Greg frowned slightly at the look on her face, not seeing the happiness that he expected. Why isn''t she smiling? Sophia just said she''d leave her alone. She should be happy. Right? Greg wanted to say something, anything, to make her smile. Even a forced smile, an obviously fake one was better than anything else. Smile hard enough and you don''t feel like crying anymore. It was something his mother used to tell him back in elementary school, when what the other kids did and said still got to him. He hadn''t had much use for the words in years, the advice pretty much internalized by now, but Taylor looked like she could use it. He had to say something. Greg took a step forward only for a hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going further. He turned around, facing Sparky with a question on his lips. The long-haired teen simply shook his head. "Why?" Sparky sighed, his fingers splayed over the lower half of his face as if cupping his mouth. "This is not a good look, man. Chatting up another girl when you just went on a date¡­ bad idea." "I''m not chatting her up," Greg added, his fingers curled into air quotes. "I''m just trying to help her out." "Sure¡­" "I''m not," Greg hissed under his breath. "Look, I''m not saying you''re thinking with your dick," Sparky added, shrugging, "You probably aren''t thinking with your dick because Tara¡­ well¡­ she''s not ugly, you know," he hedged, wiggling his hand from side to side, "but she''s no Barnes, brah. So, I have to assume you want to help ''cause you''re a genuine nice guy beta male." Greg glanced over at his friend, a confused and slightly hurt look on his face. "That''s¡­ that''s just mean." "Spoken like a true nice guy beta." "Okay, hurtful. What did I do to you?" Greg asked, hands raised. "Made me throw away a perfectly good raincoat, but that''s not even the point," Sparky smirked, twirling a strand of hair into a curl. "I just like to break your dreams. It keeps me warm at night." Greg shot him a determined look. "I''m going and you can''t stop me." Both of Sparky''s eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under his beanie."Well, alright, let me know how that goes." Greg nodded, the sarcasm once again flying over his head. Walking out from behind the classroom door, he made his way over to Taylor''s still form, the girl still leaning against her locker. "Hey there, Taylor!" Her head turned and she gave him an odd look, her brow furrowed. "Greg?" It''s as much an actual question as it is a statement, Taylor seeming legitimately confused by his presence. A smile on his face, Greg doesn''t bother to think about it, instead barreling forward with a conversation starter. "So, how ya doing?" The stare turns from confusion to slight frustration, hands rising from her sides to massage her temples. "Ugh, I can''t do this right now, Greg. Could you just¡­ go?" Greg stumbled slightly at the sudden brush-off, the feeling of slight hurt fading as quickly as he felt it. "Sorry, didn''t mean to bug you," he said with a slight chuckle. "Just wanted to¡­ uhh, just see if you''re okay." "I-" She sighs, the action almost shaking her entire body as she leans back against her locker. "I''m fine, Greg. Really, but I''d be a lot better if you left me alone right now." He blinked at her words, his smile twitching slightly as the feeling of hurt returns in full force. "I thought you''d be happy, you know." There''s silence between the two of them for a moment before Taylor''s head slowly turns to face him, her expression almost impossible to decipher. "What?" "You know," Greg shrugged, his smile returning, "Sophia leaving you alone. The apology and all. That was me. I made her do it." This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Taylor blinked, her eyes widening ever so slightly behind her glasses. "How?" is the only thing she says, her voice quiet. Greg''s smile bursts into an open grin. "You know the fight? Last week, with me and Sophia?" There was no doubt that Taylor knew about it. At this point, everyone in the school knew, with the exception of the teachers. Greg had gotten appraising looks all day, although a good portion of those had been from people that might have been Empire so that wasn''t really a good thing. Taylor nodded, her lips twitching as if she almost wanted to smile. "Sophia bet me that if I won, she''d owe me a favor." Greg laughed slightly, giving the girl a wink. "Three guesses what I picked. First two don''t count." The brunette said nothing, simply staring at him. "You don''t have to thank me, you know," Greg spoke up, his voice playful as he tries to fill the awkward silence Taylor left him with. "Just being a nice guy. Not a Nice Guy, you know, but just a nice guy." Her eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. "Why?" Her voice was still quiet, almost a whisper. If it wasn''t for the fact that they were within arm''s reach of each other, Greg doubted he would be able to hear. He blinked, confused by the question. "Whaddya mean, Taylor?" Taylor turned, glancing behind her, before swiveling back to face Greg. Her lips tightened and turn down into a definite frown. "Why''d you do it?" Greg''s eyes widened, shifting contact away from Taylor''s suspicious gaze. "T-t-to help you, I d-don''t know¡­" "But why?" Taylor''s eyes narrowed further. "What are you getting out of this? Is this because you want to go out with me or something? Because that''s nothappening." "No!" Greg exclaimed, eyes wide. "I just wanted to help you out. What''s your problem?" "My problem is that you won''t leave me alone," Taylor bit back, still frowning. Greg''s brow creased in confusion, his hands raised in front of his chest. "I just wanted to help you out, Taylor." "It''s a little weird that all of a sudden, you want to help me out," Taylor''s lips pursed in contempt as she stared at Greg, "Don''t lie to me. Did they put you up to this? Who did it? Sophia? Emma? Madison?" "I''m not lying and no one put me up to anything," Greg replied, a look of hurt on his face. "I didn''t even do this to go out with you so you can relax. I''m already going out with Emma." The mention of Emma seemed to spark a fire in Taylor, the girl suddenly advancing on Greg. "You''re going out with Emma? As if," she scoffed at the idea. "What genius plan did they come up with this time? Get me to go out with you and what? Gonna lead me into a trap or something? Huh?" She angrily poked a slender finger into Greg''s chest, pushing him back a little. "Claim we did something and call me a slut? Is that your big plan?" "Look, Taylor," Greg stepped back, a slight frown on his face as he pushed Taylor''s hand away from him. "Nobody has any plans. Nobody''s trying to mess with you, least of all me. I already told you, I''m going out with Emma and she didn''t put me up to anything." His frown tilted up into a smile and he blushed slightly. "She''s actually really nice and I was just trying to help you because I thought we were friends." Taylor flinched at the word "nice", and again at the word "friends," her eyes narrowing even further as she scowled furiously at Greg. "And I told you, I don''t fucking believe you, Greg." The smile vanished off his face. "You know what, you don''t have to. I just did a nice thing for a friend. Maybe you''ve heard about those. They''re people who aren''t giant jerks to other people." Taylor advanced on him again, hands tight at her sides.. "Whatever Emma told you, she''s lying. It''s all she does. She''s obviously using you. I don''t know why you can''t see that." "Using me? For what?" Greg snapped. "I don''t know," Taylor scowled, lips pressed tight. "But Emma Barnes is an evil, heartless bitch who doesn''t care about anyone but herself and if you think she actually cares about you, you''re a bigger idiot than I thought." Her last words were like a slap in the face, Greg actually flinching at the insult Taylor threw at him and the vitriol with which she spat out the words. His hands clenched at his sides and he took a step forward, looking Taylor straight in the eye. "You know what? It''s funny you can talk about how Emma''s such a giant bitch when she''s never said a bad word about you to me. You can call her all these names but you never even give me the time of day." His knuckles turned white as he tightened his fists. "I tried to help you last week and you just walk away. Not even a ''Thanks, Greg.'' Who does that? Who can''t say two simple easy words?" Taylor pursed her lips. "A-a-and then¡­ and then¡­ and then I get suspended for trying to help you out and you know who shows up at my house with my homework and an apology?" Greg raised his open hands up to his head, eyes narrowed as he glared at Taylor. "Not you, Emma. You know who doesn''t call me a giant idiot for thinking the best of people? Not you. I just wanted to help you, be your friend, but you know what? You''re right!" Greg advanced on her, arms thrown back wide as he stopped just short of invading her personal space. "You''re absolutely right! I am a giant idiot¡­ for thinking you deserve my help." His breathing heavy, Greg stepped back and let his hands fall back to his sides. "And don''t worry, you don''t have to tell me to leave you alone again." With a scowl on his face, Greg turned his back to Taylor and began to walk off, ignoring the curious and shocked gazes of several students milling around their own lockers.
You have gained 1 CHA.
"So, brah¡­" "Mmhmm?" "You¡­ uhh, wanna talk about it?" "Talk about what?" "...cool." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 365/365
Mana 165/165
Willpower 156/156
STR 29 SPD 21
VIT 22 INT 22
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 15(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Angry Straight Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 55 Cost: 7 Will Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 7 (XP: 30%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Increases innate running speed by 5% with every level when active Cost: 5 Will every ten seconds. Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 1 (XP: 25%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 29 (XP: 5%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Electricity Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Buff 3.13 Buff 3.13 "... I mean, brah, I''ve said some fucked up shit to people but daaamn..." "..." "Like, you know in basketball, where you juke hard and someone, like, just hits the ground like¡­ hard? When you just destroy their ankles and they hit the ground..." "..." "Dude, what you did was like, that.. the verbal equivalent of that." Sparky clicked his tongue several times in rapid succession, a single hand running through his hair. "Like, damn, brah, that was excellence at it''s best, you get me?" "..." "I mean, it was a little harsh, but you gotta be savage when someone''s talking about your girl, right?" "..." "...so am I just gonna talk to myself for like ten more minutes or you gonna stop focusing on¡­ that and say something back?" Greg made no effort to respond, a slight scowl on his face as he focused on, well¡­ that. Legs crossed over one another, he sat on the living room floor holding a palm flat on the object in front of him. The object in question, happened to be a broken RC plane. A birthday gift from his dad from way back when, he had crashed the thing five minutes into flying it and his father had told him he was either going to have to live with it or fix it himself. Nine-year old Greg had simply shrugged and went back inside to play video games, surprising his dad who had probably expected more of a fight. Six years later, Greg was face-to-face with the damaged toy again, doing his best to ignore his best friend as he rambled lazily while laying on Greg''s couch. Despite his focused appearance, he wasn''t actually trying to fix the item. Really, he wasn''t. All he was trying to do was something millions of nerds had done before him had tried in the past; recreate a power from an anime. The hypothesized power was something called Structural Analysis, and if Greg understood it correctly and he was pretty sure he did, it was basically a touch-based Observe skill. In theory, it was extremely simple. In practice, not so much. "Greg?" "..." "G-man?" "..." "Gee-zus Christ, bro!" Blue eyes snapped up to glance at Sparky, the long-haired teen draped over the couch like a very lazy model. "What?" For a moment, Sparky didn''t reply, simply looking nonplussed. Then, with a smirk on his lips, he gave a disinterested shrug. "Honestly, I dunno. I didn''t think you were paying attention so I¡­ just yelled something random." "But¡­ but why?" "I dunno. Bored, I guess." Sparky shrugged again, sitting up slightly on the couch. "You know what? It doesn''t matter anyway." Greg rolled his eyes, letting out a groan as he dropped his head into his palms. "This isn''t working." "Well, no duh, genius," Sparky snorted, swinging his legs up and pulling himself into a proper sitting position. "You''re trying to make a skill, right?" His fingers came up in air quotes, accentuating the three words. Greg lifted his head, still frowning slightly. "Yeah?" "Well," Sparky tilted his head to the side, "I''m guessing you have to use your mana or will for this?" Greg nodded slowly, wondering where his friend was going with this. "I''m guessing more mana than will but yeah?" "You need to focus, brah," Sparky said with a smirk, leaning back on the couch. "Mana''s magic, basically, which is all mental energy or¡­ soul energy?" His smirk shifted into a frown as the last two words left his mouth.. "...have I told you that your power really fucks with my head?" "Buncha times, yeah," Greg nodded, much quicker this time. "But how am I not focusing?" The blond gestured toward the broken toy plane in front of him. "I''ve been focusing for the better part of fifteen minutes already." "Dude, you''re in a mood. You''re trynna work your mojo but your own head''s fuckin'' with you." "I''m¡­ not sure what..." "Son of a-" Sparky rolled his eyes. It''s simple. Tara got you all mad and in your feelings and you''re all about feelings." He drew the last word out, enunciating it far more than Greg thought necessary. "So, how are you supposed to focus when you''re all bitter and shit?" "I''m not bitter," Greg snapped, his tone sour. "Look at you," Sparky said with a snort. "You''re fucking pouting now, ya giant fucking baby." "No, I''m n-" Greg began, only to stop as he heard the whining tone in his voice. Blowing air out of his nose, he tried to fix his expression and glanced back at Sparky. "How about now?" "Now, you just look constipated." "Sparky!" "Fine, you want my advice?" "When do I not?" "True," Sparky replied, his eyebrows rising. "You don''t always listen, though." "I''ll listen now." Rather than actually reply, Sparky let out a slight hum, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. "Sparky," Greg whined, slapping his palm on the hardwood floor. "Alright, alright, Goldilocks." Rolling his eyes again, Sparky sat up and shot Greg a look. "When my mom gets her¡­ ugh, lady days, she kinda gets moody so she goes to her art room and meditates. So, uh, try meditating." Greg blinked. "Lady days?" Sparky winced, shaking his head a little. "Just¡­ shut up and try, dumbass." "...okay, how?" Sparky exhaled, throwing his head back onto the couch. "...that doesn''t deserve an answer but I''ll give you one anyway. Close your eyes, count to¡­ fifty, i guess, and breathe slowly." He let out another breath, far heavier than what one would expect from a sigh. "It might help you get your mind off¡­ you know. At least, I''m pretty sure that should do it, right?" Greg raised an eyebrow, his frown still present on his face. "Are you asking me?" "Shut up and count." "Fine, I''ll give it a try," Greg grumbled, his mutter barely loud enough to be heard. In his opinion, this wasn''t gonna do anything for him. So what if he was a little annoyed that Taylor turned out to be a huge jerk? That was his prerogative. Now, Sparky wanted him to meditate, as if sitting down and breathing ever helped anyone do anything. Meditating, huh? Like Avatar or something. His frown deepened slightly as he remembered something. Ridiculous how it''s three days later and I still can''t airbend worth a damn, Greg lamented, thinking back on his frustrating attempts trying to control his aerokinesis. Shrugging his shoulders, Greg reaffirmed his position on the floor, crossing his legs again and dropping his hands into his lap. Empty your mind, embrace your chakras, enter the Avatar State¡­ as if. Greg let out a low chuckle under his breath before trying to focus again. Trying his best to calm his breathing, he shut his eyes. Clear my mind, right? That''s what I have to do. Don''t think. Don''t think. Don''t think¡­ This isn''t working! How do I not think? The question rang in his mind as he took in a long breath, exhaling a moment later. Fill the lungs, Empty the lungs. Fill the lungs, Empty the lungs. Fill, empty, fill, empty, fill, empty, fill, empty¡­ Over and over, he repeated the deep breathing along with the chant until he was doing it without much thought. Without even realizing it, he began to count. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5¡­ Greg wasn''t exactly sure when it happened but he began to feel something. It was similar to what he felt when using his aerokinesis, a second heartbeat pulsing through him with a light feeling, almost like water in his veins. It felt¡­ Greg''s eye twitched as he mentally prodded at the feeling again, only for his initial feeling to be reaffirmed. It felt¡­ blue. How does something feel blue? Greg''s musings were cut off as his mouth twitched slightly, a frown almost forming on his face as he realized that the blue wasn''t the only thing he was feeling. A third pulsing heartbeat was there, slightly out of sync with the second with a much different sensation to it. While the second was lighter, cool and¡­ blue, this one was much thicker in comparison, warmer somehow, and¡­ yellow. Seriously, how am I feeling a color right now? As he prodded the second one, gaining something of a basic understanding of it, both sensations suddenly flooded his body, both heartbeats thundering throughout his body like drums. With a gasp, Greg''s eyes snapped open and he found himself taking in several deep breaths, his eyes wide as he tried to process what he just experienced.
Abilities Gained! Meditation Lvl 1 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. Mana Awareness Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Willpower Awareness Lv 1 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it.
Greg blinked again, this time at the screen above him, before letting out a subdued, "Whoa." "Something wrong, Keanu?" Sparky''s voice was a tad muffled, his face covered by a throw-pillow. Once again, he was laying on the couch, his body draped over it in a way that seemed natural yet extremely uncomfortable. "Keanu¡­" Glancing up at Sparky, Greg''s mouth opened into a wide smile. "Haha,but seriously, I did it." The throw-pillow fell to the ground, Sparky''s hand batting it away as he tilted his head to actually look at Greg''s slightly gasping form on the floor below. "Did what, G?" Greg raised an eyebrow. "It. You know, the same it that you told me meditating would help me do?" "W-wait, what?" Sparky goggled. A moment later, he lifted his head from the couch, elbows pushing him up to get a better look at Greg in the lotus position on the floor below. Apart from the slight sheen of sweat on Greg''s brow, there wasn''t much to see that told him anything had changed. "Brah, It hasn''t even been five minutes." ''What can I say?" Greg smiled, teeth spread out in a wide grin. His blue eyes seemed a little brighter as he said the words, gleaming a little as they narrowed ever so slightly with his smile. "I work fast." This was bullshit. Raw, untreated, fresh from the cow''s behind, bullshit. Almost a whole thirty minutes later and he was still stuck on the same fucking puzzle. Greg growled slightly, his hand splayed out as he held it above the broken RC plane. This made no sense. He had assumed his new Mana Awareness skill would help out but noooo. Mana Awareness, his left buttcheek. The only thing he wasaware of right now was how worthless the skill really was. Touching the plane and trying to push mana out of his hand did nothing but create a little light show around his fingers, gaining him another skill that he was immediately able to classify as incredibly worthless.
Mana Glitter Lv 4 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters)
What in the actual fuck was he supposed to do with that? On the scale of useful to not useful, that was about as helpful as being able to bend spoons, and onlyspoons. And that fucking flavor text only seemed to rub in exactly how shitty a skill it was. "So¡­ what was that you were saying before?" "Please¡­" "No, come on," Sparky said, smirking slightly. His tongue trailed over his canine, the expression on his face showing just how much he enjoyed Greg''s distress. "You said something like half an hour ago, what was it again?" "Could you not?" "I remember now!" Sparky let out a gasp as he said it, a hand clutching his chest in faux-surprise. "You said, ''I work fast'', right?" Greg sighed audibly, letting go of the toy. "Okay¡­ I get it." Sparky threw his arms up into the air, his mouth opening wide a moment later as he let out a large yawn."Obviously not, you''re still trying to figure out how to make this same skill since we got to your house an hour ago," he continued, smacking his lips. "I know," Greg admitted, sighing again. "Really, this shouldn''t be this hard." "Okay?" Raising an eyebrow, Sparky tilted his head to the side. "How do you figure?" "From what I''m assuming, Structural Analysis is kinda like echolocation but¡­ not¡­ really?" The blond frowned and shook his head, glancing back up at his friend as he tried to get his thoughts in order. "Okay, maybe more like a mix of my Observe and sonar but tactile as well as far more innate, you know?" Greg nodded to himself, not really asking Sparky the question. "Shirou was able to basically get blueprints of items, so it seems to me that logically, that''s how it has to function. Just like a bat''s sonar¡­ only far more detailed, as expected." "You''re assuming this based off an anime, you know?" "Your point?" Greg replied, fingers tapping against the damaged wings of the plane. Most of his attention was still focused on trying to get this skill to work as well as stopping his hands from looking like they belonged to Edward Cullen. "Superpowers are already weird. I don''t see how that''s any weirder." Sparky''s eyes drooped low, shooting Greg a half-lidded glare that seemed to scream ''Come on''. "An anime that also had King Arthur as a fourteen year old girl?" Greg blinked. "Alright¡­ I can see your point but in the original Fate/Prototype, King Arthur was a dude so..." "With a sword that shoots lasers?" Greg tilted his head for a second, sucking in a breath of air before speaking up again. "In all fairness, in the myth of Excalibur itself, the sword was said to glow like the sun and had magic power." "Brah, really?" Sparky wasn''t deterred. "The same anime that also had rapey dick worms?" This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. "Well," Greg opened his mouth, gasping several times before simply closing his mouth and shrugging. "...fair enough, the source material I''m choosing to emulate is a little weird but theoretically, this is supposed to work. It should work." "Oh, should it?" The sarcasm in Sparky''s tone was only made more obvious to Greg by the way his lips twitched, the mixed teen clearly fighting a smile. "Should it, really?" "Yeah," Greg''s gaze dropped back to the broken toy, a hand rising to his brow to scratch his forehead. "I told you, I already speculated a lot about this a bunch at school today. I put a lot of thought into this." "That''s your problem¡­ sometimes," Sparky yawned, not even bothering to cover his mouth. "Half the time, you don''t think. The other half you over-think. You''re fucking around with magic here¡­ or close enough. You get me, brah?" "I¡­ think so." "So, stop thinking," Sparky replied with a roll of his eyes. "Don''t think. Imagine." "...that," Greg let out an exasperated sigh, palming his face with a single hand. "That is not helpful at all." "Look, dummy," Sparky shouted, leaning forward, "this thing is a part of you. You don''t think at your hand to make it move. You just do it." Greg glanced down at his hand for a moment, lifting it closer to eye level, before looking over at Sparky. "Still¡­ not helpful." Hazel eyes narrowed. "I feel like I''m being super helpful and you''re just shit at taking directions but¡­" he let out a hiss of air between gritted teeth, giving Greg a frustrated look, "okay. Do you." Greg shrugged. "I mean, it''s very nice advice. I''m not saying it''s not, Sparks. It was also nice when Yoda gave it to Luke, too. ''Do or do not. There is no try."'' He rolled his eyes. "Same difference, really." Shaking his head, Greg held out a hand to the broken toy plane, a few fingers lightly grazing the wing. "What do you think is gonna happen, huh?" he said with a snort. On a whim, Greg sent a weak surge of that cool-feeling blue energy into his fingers, his MP dropping by 2 points as he did so. Like, I said. Noth- "Uggggghh," Greg let out an uncontrolled shaking groan, his eyes widening as the world dulled around him and black began to eat at the edges of his vision. His eyes watered as an itching sensation grew in them, the irises glowing slightly with blue shining through. Greg let out another gasp as his mind''s eye was suddenly inundated with knowledge of the inner workings of the plane''s balsa wood wing structure, knowledge of how the pieces were supposed to fit together almost seared into his brain. A moment later, the blonde wrenched his hand away from the toy, his eyes wide and no longer flickering. For the second time in thirty minutes, he was breathing heavily again, beads of sweat coating his forehead. Taking in another deep breath, he stared up at Sparky who was staring right back at him, eyes just as wide. "What in the actual f-?"
You have gained 1 INT.
Skill Gained! Structural Analysis Lv 1 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object.
Ability Level Up! Mana Awareness Lv 2 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it.
"Huh." "Dude¡­" Sparky''s voice was hushed, his jaw hanging slightly open. Greg blinked and turned to face him, dismissing the screen with an idle thought. "What''s wrong, Sparky?" "I swear to God," The long-haired teen shivered, settling back into the couch, "your power is creeping me the fuck out man. Why were your eyes fucking glowing?" "Good question." Greg glanced down at the broken RC toy in his hand, tilting his head to the side as his other hand rubbed at one of his eyes. "I think it''s ''cause I learned how to fix the plane." "...that answered nothing." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 365/365
Mana 170/170
Willpower 158/158
STR 29 SPD 21
VIT 22 INT 23
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 15(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Angry Straight Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Hit like an amateur light-weight using your anger in place of actual, physical muscle. Damage: 55 Cost: 7 Will Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Power Sprint Lv 7 (XP: 30%) Need to get away or get to someplace slightly faster than just regular running? Use this skill. Increases innate running speed by 5% with every level when active Cost: 5 Will every ten seconds. Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Structural Analysis Lv 1 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 1 (XP: 0%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 1 (XP: 25%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 29 (XP: 5%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Electricity Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: Funny Feelings Cutscene: Funny Feelings Thursday, March 31, 2011 Emma Barnes ended the call with a smile on her face, dropping the phone into her lap. Her father sat just a few feet away, his desk phone held up to his face as he held a muttered conversation with someone, the rest of his large wooden office desk littered with various papers and folders that were undoubtedly important. Emma didn''t bother to call him, patient to wait until he was finished to ask a question that had been bugging her. All the more time for her to think, anyway. Her hands locked over one another, perched on her crossed legs and she looked back down at her phone, Sophia''s caller ID the last thing on her recent call history. Her best friend was still not happy, not that she ever really was for long. Still, she was definitely a bit more irritable than normal lately. Just that last call had been a ten-minute long rant about how she wanted to "smash that blond fucker''s teeth in with a bat". Emma had to listen, of course. Someone had to. Otherwise, Sophia might just act on her riled-up emotions, and from what she suspected about Greg, that would end up with one of them dead or expelled and Emma just couldn''t have that. Of course, it didn''t help that Greg himself wasn''t making the situation any easier. No, her new not-quite-boyfriend¡­ seemed to derive some kind of insane joy out of messing with Sophia. Every single time he saw her, Sophia would do her best to ignore him and the blond would smile a devious little smile before making a reference to their fight, already well aware that would be enough to get Sophia heated. The fact that Sophia not only had to apologize to Taylor but couldn''t even take out her stress on the girl anymore thanks to Greg seemed to make things worse. Emma wasn''t exactly happy about it either but she wasn''t going to try and go after Taylor so soon after Greg had told Sophia to back-off. Madison, the tiny thing, just followed along with whatever Emma did anyway, so she didn''t have to worry about her stepping out of line. Somewhat bad news aside, the revelation that Greg tore into Taylor herself was enough to lift her spirits. The irony that Taylor was paranoid enough to push away the one boy who actually cared enough to be nice to her was hilarious on a level that Emma couldn''t deny and the idea that Taylor probably knew it was just as rich. Sophia, on the other hand, wasn''t exactly happy with the idea of mental or emotional anguish, her tendencies far more violent than Emma''s. Thankfully, Sophia had decided to spend more time on her ''nightly adventures'' in order to vent some of her stress. Still, Emma couldn''t help but feel that something like that was only a stop-gap measure. Just earlier today, Emma was nearly forced to stop the track star from mauling Greg at school when he somehow managed to beat her around the track, surprising almost everyone but Emma herself. Greg hadn''t done much more than laugh at Sophia''s constipated expression and even Emma couldn''t deny that the whole thing was at least a little funny. Huh. Everytime Emma Barnes found herself trying to describe Greg Veder, she always found herself going back to the same word. Funny. Not just in the regular way, too. Sometimes, it was funny in the interesting way. Yes, that word described him more than anything else she could think of. He was funny, in the sense that he made her laugh. Not like the other boys, who tried to be funny. Emphasis on tried. She rarely felt like laughing at the things they said, but she had it down to a science, perfecting the laugh that would give them the confidence to keep talking even though she''d rather not hear a single word they had to say. It wasn''t like she really even bothered to pay attention to the things they thought were funny, simply laughing at the right times. Greg, on the other hand, just said things. Most of the time, she didn''t even think he was aware of what he was saying. Some of what he said, even with context, were outright ridiculous, and Emma couldn''t help but laugh, even having to force herself to hold back sometimes. It was¡­ funny, the way he could do that to her. She wasn''t sure if she liked it. She wasn''t sure about a lot of things when it came to Greg. She wasn''t sure about where Greg seemed to get all the money he had, nor the nonchalant way he spent it. She couldn''t deny that it felt good, though, to hang around someone who seemed to have such a nonchalant attitude toward money, almost like it would never run out. Not to mention that it felt even better when he said he''d never think twice about spending it on her. She especially wasn''t sure what the fact that he reminded her of a mix of both Sophia and Taylor meant. Emma sat back slightly on the leather couch in her father''s home office, frowning slightly at that, musing, before continuing her line of thought. The old Taylor, at least. Greg¡­ Greg was like the best parts of both of them put together and shaken up. He was confident and cocky, but somehow managed not to be mean about it, while Sophia couldn''t help but express her ever-present dissatisfaction with others through harsh words and actions. Emma didn''t mind it though, well aware that Sophia would never turn that on her. That wasn''t the only similarity, either. Greg somehow managed to display an aptitude for easy violence and skill at challenging people larger than him without flinching, just like Sophia. Another interesting similarity, a self-certainty, almost as if they both knew they had some advantage over them. Emma''s smile widened slightly at that last thought. Even then, Greg still showed off a happy-go-lucky attitude that even Taylor in middle school would have found slightly tiring to emulate. He was funny and silly, with a casual airheadedness that lead to easy humor, but he only noticed it like a third of the time. All of this was strangely second-place to the forceful confidence he had, often at the expense of others'' opinions. Nowhere was this more obvious to Emma than the night he had offered to take her to dinner.
"Uhh¡­ want to go eat food?" Greg had asked out of nowhere, the two of them just exiting the dark confines of the theatre. "Like, at a place?" Emma tilted her head at the question, blinking slightly as she tried to parse it. "I mean¡­ I mean, together," he said, laughing awkwardly. A hand reached up to to scratch at his hair, his eyes avoiding contact with hers as he continued laughing. "We could sit and eat together and¡­ talk, I guess. I mean, we didn''t really talk during the movie because, well, you''re not supposed to do that." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She opened her mouth to say something, unsure of what to add, but Greg interjected again. "We don''t have to talk, not if you don''t want to," he rushed the words, trying to pre-empt Emma. "Or eat, either. We don''t have to eat¡­ I mean, if you''d rather not." An instant later, his awkward grin melted away to be replaced by an uncomfortable grimace. "Scratch that, I do need to eat. Like, not just generally, like for survival but¡­ hunger, you know?" He shrugged, tilting his head from side to side with the motion. "I''m hungry ''cause I didn''t eat today. Not even breakfast, which I know, super unhealthy, but I was nervous and I didn''t wanna throw up or anything." Both their eyes widened at the same time as his last words sunk in and Greg''s hands rushed up, waving frantically as he tried to explain himself. "Whoa, there¡­ not implying that I''m gonna¡­ throw up, I mean. It was a just in case thing, you know." He took in another breath and continued. "Sooo, yeah, I really do need to eat like I''m super hungry but if you don''t want to eat, we can just talk. Or you could just talk and I listen¡­ while eating." The deluge of words stopped and Emma found herself being stared at by bright blue eyes, waiting for her to say something as she just blinked. After a moment, she let out a slight breath and smiled. "...sure, dinner would be nice." "Awesome." His face lit up in a relieved smile, the nervous look in his eyes vanishing as he let out a sigh. "I know a nice Italian place not too far from here," Emma spoke up, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself to fight off the slight chill of the New England evening weather. "They''re pretty good¡­ for the price." Greg frowned. "I don''t do Italian food. I do like-a me some spaghetti," he said, drawing out the terrible Italian accent, "but that''s about it, really. So, I don''t think Italian''s gonna work for me." She had found herself stumbled by the immediate brush-off, Greg not even bothering to consider how she would feel. It had been remarkably reminiscent of Sophia, her friend''s brash attitude and disdain for other people''s wants similar to Greg''s unintentional ignorance of other people''s desires. Regardless, when Sophia did it, it was easy to feel annoyed because she knew what she was doing. With Greg, it was much harder because she could tell he honestly didn''t notice. After a moment or two of shock, she shrugged her shoulders and simply decided to go along with Greg''s plans for the rest of the evening.
All of that had been one hell of an eye opener for her. Greg''s casual disdain for other people''s feelings mixed in with his overbearing confidence and sudden bouts of awkward nerves. It had all been a bit much to deal with at first but as the night went on, she found herself laughing more and thinking less. In a way, it had been hard to reconcile him with nearly every other boy she had dealt with. Those other boys had damn near bent backwards to acquiesce to her and here was this¡­ Greg, just doing whatever he felt like. The way he seemed to ratchet back and forth between casual airheadedness and nervous hedging was another confusing situation for her to understand, leaving her to wonder how either of those two traits made up someone who could stand up to Sophia. Powers or not, Sophia could be strangely intimidating, her intensity making up for her lack of stature. It was a puzzle. A funny puzzle. "Emma?" Emma shook her head, the sound of her name pulling her out of her own thoughts. She blinked, green eyes focusing on her dad as he stared back at her. "You wanted something, princess?" His voice was warm as it always was with her, affection that was focused far more on her than it ever was on her sister. Emma smiled at him, her face peaceful while she tried to think of how exactly she wanted to phrase this. "Daddy, sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask you a question." Alan blinked before shrugging. "Shoot." "What happened on Saturday night?" Alan pursed his lips, a somewhat befuddled expression on his face. Leaning forward in his desk chair, he brought his hands together, touching fingertip to fingertip. "I''m sorry, princess. I don''t know what you mean." "C''mon, daddy, you know¡­" Emma smiled, shaking her head slightly. While she wasn''t sure if she wanted to continue this¡­ whatever this was with Greg, it couldn''t hurt to make sure her dad didn''t hate his guts. "Greg. On the porch that night." Bringing a hand up to his chin, the lawyer scoffed. "You didn''t ask him yourself?" Emma just shrugged in response. "He said it was nothing, not important." Well, he hadn''t said that much, not even bothering to answer the question the both times Emma had asked him before clumsily changing the subject. "Princess, you sure can pick ''em," Alan replied, letting the air out from his chest with a deep sigh. "This one¡­ he''s not the worst boy I''ve ever met¡­" "Huh?" Emma blinked, puzzled. Not the worst boy. Begrudging acceptance of a boy around his daughters? From her Dad? Normally, if Alan Barnes was asked to give an opinion on any male between the ages of fourteen and thirty-four that he saw expressing any sort of interest in his daughters or wife, the best he would have to say about them would be laced with outright suspicion. Zoe Barnes called it being protective, "like a real man." Her daughters called it "a bit much." "The boy¡­ Greg," Alan''s mouth tilted downwards, not quite a frown but the closest thing to it. "He was very well-dressed. Not exactly respectful, but," he let out a grumbling sigh, "your mother seems to think otherwise for some reason." He shook his head, cupping his chin with one hand. "All in all, I''d say that¡­ he doesn''t seem¡­ like he''d hurt a fly." High praise, but not exactly accurate. Emma tilted her head, recalling the way Greg had nearly broken a football player''s nose without the slightest bit of hesitation. "...that''s nice to hear, daddy, but I just wanted to know what happened on the porch on Saturday?" "Ah," Alan''s tone lightened, a slight gleam in his eyes as he looked over at his daughter, "that. Well, your little friend greeted me, shook my hand, (strong grip on that one, by the way) and took off running." Emma blinked, opening her eyes wide. "What?" "Yeah, he just took off running. Think I mighta scared him off." Alan lowered his head back onto the stack of papers that had occupied his attention since Emma had first entered the room. "As fast as he was moving, I''m surprised he''s not on the track team himself." Emma fought a giggle, a hand rising to her mouth. If Sophia had her way, she''d break his legs just so that couldn''t happen. Yeah, funny seemed like the exact word to describe her situation with Greg. Aggro 4.1 Aggro 4.1 Friday, April 1, 2011 1:22 AM "Okay¡­ y-you can do this." The words came out slightly shakily, a mix of excitement and actual nerves racing through him. Greg''s fingers twitched as he held his arms out at his sides, his torso bent forwards at a near forty-five degree angle. Yes, he was poised to do a Ninja run. After all, it was scientifically the fastest way to run. Because science. Twisting his neck slightly, he shifted his head to the side as he tried to work out a nonexistent kink in his neck. Greg''s teeth were clenched down on his bottom lip, his expression warring between eagerness and anxiety. Even then, his little half-smile could be seen beneath his half-mask. After a moment, he let out a long, slow breath. Let''s go with Reinforcement again. A skill that he had gotten shortly a few days after Structural Analysis, Reinforcement was quickly turning out to be one of his favorites. Even though it took him hours of experimenting for him to actually make it¡­ Well, that wasn''t exactly true. The skill itself took him about¡­ what? Fifteen minutes to create, at the most. Undoubtedly less than twenty. He was sure of that. Anyway, the skill only took him half of half an hour to make. It just took him about two days to realize that he needed to experiment with Will, instead of Mana. Boy, was that embarrassing when he finally figured out that little hitch. On the flipside, all that practice did net him some more stat points, so¡­ silver lining? (+5 INT, +2 STR, +3 SPD) Anyway, despite the fact that it cost him both Power Sprint and Angry Straight to make, Reinforcement was now one of his favorite skills. Why? Simple, really. Unlike Power Sprint, which only boosted his speed, and Angry Straight, which only increased his punching Damage, Reinforcement¡­ Well, It handled everything. Plenty of Merchants could attest to that. "[Reinforcement!]" As he yelled the skill name, the flesh visible around his body, which was limited to the space around his mouth and the tips of his fingers, flared with a yellow light for a single instant. His expression shifted into a grin and he let out another breath, his breath visible in the cold air. "LET''S DO THIS!" In hindsight, it may not have been the best idea to scream at the top of his lungs in a run-down area like this but self-motivation was important, after all. Priorities. Besides, anyone that showed up would get a big hunk of metal to the face, courtesy of his inventory. Screaming, Greg surged forward toward the alley wall in front of him, running fast enough to outpace any Olympian. Without a moment''s hesitation, he jumped forward, leaping several feet into the air. His arc launching him directly into the wall, Greg met the brick feet-first and kicked off with all his might, launching him towards the other wall across from him. "I do parkour!" Shouting out his actions as if to remind himself of what to do, Greg contorted his body in mid-air and kicked against the second wall with as much force as he did before, sending him on an upwards path back to the first wall. "Parkour!" Again, he jumped off, leaping with all the force his Reinforced body could grant him. "Parkouuuur!" Twisting once more, he made to repeat his actions on the other side of the alley, kicking off the wall again in a move worthy of the Matrix when a piece of cracked brick fell from the wall he kicked off from the moment his foot made contact. "Parkou-nononononoo!" His kick, lacking the explosiveness of the several before it, didn''t so much launch him forward as it did send him sprawling into the air. His eyes widened behind his silvery mask, hands clawing furiously at nothing as he desperately tried to recover in mid-air. C''mon! Do something! Mana surrounded his gloved hands with an opaque blue aura, his eyes widening even further as he tried to think of something to do with it. Powers or not, he had somewhat of a mild fear of heights and falling was big on his list of things he''d rather not have happen. C''mon! Arms stretched out to meet the approaching wall, Greg slammed into it face-first, grunting with the impact as his nose met the unforgiving brick with an audible crunch. -12 "Shi-iiiiiiiit!" His grunt of pain quickly turned into another scream as he began to fall, his fingers buying him precious time as they dug into the walls for purchase as he slid down the wall again. His face scraped painfully against the worn mortar, scraping the flesh from his cheeks with every passing second. If that wasn''t bad enough to deal with, he also had to ignore the red dust flying into his eyes, nose and mouth as he did his best to resist the pull of gravity. -1 -1 -1 -1 Gritting his teeth, Greg spread out his arms, hugging the wall with his body, his hands continuing to scramble for a handhold on the worn alley wall. A moment later, Greg paused, suddenly aware that he was no longer falling, his hands almost stuck to the wall itself. "Wha-"
Skill Gained! Surface Adhesion Lv 1 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second
Skill Level Up! Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 12 (XP: 10%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Ability Level Up! Acrobatics Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Mana Awareness Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it.
Breath coming in quick, shaky gasps, Greg hung on the side of the building, clinging to the wall with nothing but his gloved palms. He blinked, watering eyes pushing away the dust that clogged his eyesight. Once clear, those same eyes widened incredulously as he realized that, somehow, he was not falling. His gaze flicked up to the boxes right above him and Greg goggled further, his mouth falling open as the information suddenly dawned on him. "Holy crap on a cracker¡­" Closing his eyes, he let out a relieved breath and slowly, tentatively, peeled off one hand from the vertical surface he clung to so desperately. Simply hanging on for dear life while his mana, the only thing keeping this skill running, slowly drained away was not his idea of a smart plan Hell, he doubted it was anyone''s idea of a smart plan. Come on. Let me climb. Let''s just get to solid grou¡­ roof. Yes, the roof was probably better, considering he was much closer to that than the ground. Despite the resistance he felt, a somewhat enjoyable sensation similar to peeling dried glue off his fingers, Greg''s hand eventually came loose from the wall. His remaining arm buckled slightly, straining under the weight of his entire body, and he hastily brought his other hand back to the wall, lifting it above the other as a pained groan spilled from his lips. He repeated the action, ignoring the brief pain he felt as he lifted his other hand a bit higher, his knees clinging to the wall just the same as his hands to provide him some respite. "So, wall-crawling is kinda hard¡­ but I can stick to walls," Greg thought aloud, tilting his head to the side. "Good enough, right?" He let out another breath, this one slower than before, a relieved laugh spilling out of him as he did so. "Okay¡­ new skill¡­ level ups¡­ wall jumping works, kinda¡­" A smile grew across his face, the hint of fear mixing with relief to create a slight mania in his grin, "Let''s try that again." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 1285/14520
Health 365/365
Mana 195/195
Willpower 172/172
STR 31 SPD 24
VIT 22 INT 23
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 15(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 6
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Dash Straight Lv 3 (XP: 65%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Damage: 60 Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 12 (XP: 10%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 1 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 2 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 3 (XP: 55%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 29 (XP: 5%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Electricity Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Meditation Lvl 4 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 1 (XP: 50%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 2 (XP: 60%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: I AM THE NIGHT! Cutscene: I AM THE NIGHT! A dark figure leapt off the high-rise as black cloth around them fluttered violently, giving them the appearance of some winged monster of the night. Paying almost no attention to the rapidly approaching ground, the black-clothed form continued it''s suicidal descent. Meters before contact with the unforgiving asphalt, the cape''s body shifted, twisting from a distinguishably human form to an ethereal, shadow-like state. Its smoky form roiled, patches of darkness almost bubbling as it hovered in the air, slowly dropping to the ground like a wall of pitch-black fog. The form shifted once more, turning back to normal as the cape''s body touched down, legs bent as if to stick to landing. Shadow Stalker glanced up and pulled herself to her full height with no fanfare. Her masked face twisted from side to side as if looking for something, eyes narrowed behind her mask as she stared down the dark streets. Gauntleted fists clenched tightly, fingers twitching desperately as they itched toward the crossbows on her holster. Where the fuck are all the Merchants recently? ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C How many days had it been? How many since that Empire wannabe retard had laid her out, embarrassing her in front of half of Winslow''s sophomore class? Objectively, Sophia knew it had only been about a week since that fucking fight. She knew that, but it still somehow felt like goddamn yesterday. Just yesterday since he challenged her, just yesterday since he sent her sprawling, just yesterday since he knocked all the air out of her fucking lungs and stood over herlike he was fucking someone¡­ They had cheered him, too. The same fucking crowd that was there to see Veder eat his own teeth cheered his stupid ass. If it had been anyone else in her position with Greg looking down on them with that same constant smile, blood on his teeth and all, Sophia might have cheered too. Might. But it wasn''t anyone else, was it? No, it was her. She, Sophia Hess, was getting looked down at by Veder, of all people. The fucking nerd had the fucking balls to look down on her! He made fun of her height, called her weak in front of so many fucking people! Now other Empire fuckers in the school were getting the idea that if Veder could fuck with her, they could too. Not fucking likely! Screaming her rage in her own head, Sophia launched herself back into the fray. With no Merchants to be seen, she had crossed over into border territory, the space where the Empire and the Merchants often clashed. The Empire had been getting bold recently in their ventures into Merchant territory, what with the Merchants themselves suddenly showing up less and less on the radar. It wasn''t long until she spotted some scum out on the streets and she couldn''t wait to take them on. Gang tats and shaved heads were all she needed for verification, the signature of the 88 easily identifiable. Using the darkness, she had launched an attack on the Empire fucks probably on their way to kill some black guy just for existing, the blunt end of a crossbow bolt striking one''s shoulder hard enough that she heard the crack from where she hid. If that wasn''t enough, his screams told her all she needed to hear. With the others disoriented and searching for her, she launched two more bolts, using her shadow state to affect them long enough to strike from behind her hiding spot. With two more down, all she had to do was take down the last one. Her eyes narrowed as she appeared in front of him, the closest streetlight casting enough light on him to let her see his hair, the sweaty, grease-stained mess caked to his pudgy face. Blond. Oh, she hated blondes. It was a new hatred, a new thing to add to her list of things she hated thanks to Greg fucking Veder. Everything the stupid fuck did, he did to annoy her. Standing up to her, defending Hebert, mocking her to her face, treating her like she was his bitch¡­ all of it was going to stop. Sophia wasn''t sure where all his confidence was coming from and she didn''t fucking care. Emma seemed to think her little blond boytoy was a cape, for some reason, claiming that he didn''t have any bruises on him the day she visited him. Sophia thought that idea was incredibly bugfucking stupid, the idea of Veder triggering about as likely as Piggot shitting gold or Hebert growing a backbone. She had made sure to tell Emma exactly that, the redhead rolling her eyes at her verbiage the way she usually did. No, Sophia figured Veder was juicing. Sophia knew muscle growth and she could see it on Veder''s arms the day he came back. Veder was no Aegis but he definitely had some major definition and the way he hit¡­ Sophia absently raised a hand to her chest, well aware that the bruise was still somewhat visible when she took her shirt off. Yeah, Veder was definitely on something. Odds were, he had gotten embarrassed with the way she knocked him around that day and went running to the Empire for something to show her up. Well, whatever it was, it fucking worked. Now, all she had to do was return to the favor. The blond Empire grunt almost seemed to be whimpering, standing awkwardly with no weapon in hand, unlike his fellow Neo-Nazis moaning on the ground. His gaze flicked nervously around multiple times, scanning the dark streets around him, before dropping back to the other gang members around him. To Sophia''s eyes, he almost seemed concerned. Fucking pathetic, she scoffed mentally. What? A Nazi with feelings? Fuck. You. Her bolt flew true, slamming into the blonde''s open face with a delightful crack and a spray of blood from his nose. The thug went down, cradling his face and Sophia smirked. Quickly flitting into the scene, she snapped up her bolts, delivering several sharp kicks to the still-conscious gang members to dissuade them from moving before darting back into the darkness. Even though she knew the Empire wouldn''t talk to the police if their lives depended on it, she had no intention of leaving her bolts anywhere near the scene anyway. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Somedays, Sophia wished she could just be Shadow Stalker nonstop. Fuck Winslow, fuck school, fuck going home. Just Shadow Stalker all the time. If Emma could fucking trigger, that would be even better. Her best friend as part of the Wards would be the best fucking thing. Hell, any girl other than that little bitch in green would be ideal. Thinks she''s so fucking great. The PR''s getting to her fucking head, if you ask me. Most powerful Shaker in the city, her right tit. So what if Vista''s power was technically flashier than any of the other Wards? The scum of this city feared Shadow Stalker more than they did her or any of them. The Wards were fucking kids compared to her, motherfucking babies for the PR team to dress up all to look pretty for the cameras. Hell, they were probably more scared of Shadow Stalker coming after them in the dead of night than they were Miss Militia, Triumph, Dauntless. Even Armsmaster couldn''t send the trash running like she could. Not a single one of them had her rep! Even the PR team knew as much. Flashier powers or not, she was a special type of cape in Brockton Bay. The one that might just decide to break your arms rather than cuff you if you pushed her too hard. That was what she was and the PR team knew how to sell that and make the city appreciate her regardless. Whatever they did, Sophia didn''t care. She was threatening enough without the voice changer, scary enough without the soulless black eyes her mask came with and perfectly stealthy without the specially darkened costume that blended perfectly into the shadows. While that all helped, none of that could make up for the fact that she had the right attitude, a killer instinct that no one else in the Protectorate or the Wards could match. Sophia vaulted over a roof vent, shifting into shadow form and allowing the air from the opening to give her the airtime she needed to make it to the other roof without needing to jump. A few seconds later, she landed several dozen feet away, her cape still fluttering with the wind as she shifted back to normal. She started running again, her thoughts moving almost as fast as she was. None of them had the guts to put the fear of God into the criminals in the city. When the scum knew she was around, they scattered. The shadows of Brockton Bay were no safe place to hide. Why? Because, she was the shadows. She was the night. She was Sh- "Hardcore Park-OH MY GOD, NOT AGAIN!" The girlish scream of fear cut into her thoughts, shocking her out of her movements as she heard the scream suddenly silenced by the sound of crumpling metal and falling trash. Whipping around, Sophia ran to the edge of the roof, her eyes catching sight of a figure in all black, lying in a crumpled heap on top of a pile of trash. Realizing that the girl had probably leapt from the building Sophia had just left behind, the one with the extra wide gap, Sophia scanned her surroundings carefully. Next to her was a dumpster with a significant dent on the top of it, meaning that her body had hit the metal with full force. Sophia winced as she realized this, shaking her head slightly. If this idiot isn''t a Brute, she''s as good as dead. She frowned slightly, rolling her eyes as she made to leave, not wanting to be caught up in another crime scene. None of my fucking business anyway. Making to turn away, Sophia paused as she heard a distinct groaning noise from below, the sound obviously coming from the dumb cape bitch who tried to make a jump she wasn''t ready for. Sighing, Sophia stepped up to the edge of the roof. "This bitch better be fucking grateful I''m not a bad person." WIth that, she let herself fall, shifting into shadow before she would hit the ground and reforming on her feet. Once again, her landing was perfect, the tips she had taken from Armsmaster helping her perfect her drops and removing all signs of stumbling from her dramatic appearances. Walking over to the body lying in a heap on the alley floor, Shadow Stalker raised an eyebrow behind her mask, her gaze trailing over the distinguishably masculine body that lay there, wincing once more at the blood that seemed to be originating from his forehead. "Fuck¡­ Hey, you! Wake up!" Her hands went to her hips, unsure of what to do here as she stared down at the possibly dying cape. "You wanna fucking die or something? Wake the fuck up, dumbass!" Sighing, her hand went to prod the figure, her gauntleted fingers barely grazing his black leather coat when the cape surged into action, hand clenched into a fist as he sprung at her. Sophia''s eyes widened and she stumbled back, arms raised. This is what I get for being nice? Fuck you, then! Instinctively, Sophia shifted, entering her shadow form as the cape rushed through her, stumbling slightly as he over-extended himself. Sophia came to a sudden realization as she reformed, her eyes catching sight of a shock of yellow as the hood around his head flew back slightly with the speed of his rise. The cape himself was dressed in a high-collared black leather coat with some kind of short cape thing at the back, worn over a similarly colored hooded sweatshirt and black leather pants, accompanied with black boots and fingerless leather gloves that seemed to be rather bulky around the knuckles. All in all, it almost looked like any other costume a cape could cobble together from the contents of their closet. However, this cape was some kind of bondage freak or something, considering his costume was littered with belts all over. There were a few around one arm and at least three or four around his actual waist, all sitting at a slightly different angle with each one looser than the one before it as well as one around his shoulder that just seemed to hang loosely around his chest for some reason. The strangeness didn''t end there either as right below his face was a bright red scarf tied like a tie around his neck. His face itself was hidden by a silvery skull mask that only seemed to cover half his face, leaving his mouth easily visible. Whoever this cape was, they were trying way too hard. Still, she didn''t care about how ridiculous the cape looked. All she cared about was one thing. Blond! Sophia''s shocked expression turned predatory, surprise replaced by anger at the sight of his hair. As the suicidal cape turned around, eyes visibly wide with surprise, he was met with a surprisingly heavy boot to the jaw, his head spinning with the force of it. Can''t be that big of a Brute when that fall took that much out of him. Sophia smirked viciously at the thought, rushing forward again. "You picked the wrong fucking time, fucker! I got a bone to pick with the Empire anyway!" The blond cape barely had time to mumble the word, "Empire?" before Sophia''s metal gauntlet came into contact with his teeth. Aggro 4.2 Aggro 4.2 "Empire?" was the only thing he could get out before Shadow Stalker struck him again, his jaw still smarting from the boot to the face. The punch landed dead on, the metal gauntlet smashing into his face like a bat with all the force that would entail. -11 "Son of a-" Greg reeled from the strike, eyes going wide as he spotted another punch aimed right for his face.
Quest Created! In Brockton Bay, Shadow Boxes You! Details: Resolve the situation with Shadow Stalker, through words or violence. Success: + 4 Stat Point, + 2 Perk Points, Ability: [?], 8625 xp Failure: ? Bonus: Prevent Shadow Stalker from phasing 3 times.
Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck me! In a way, Greg felt like some of this might have been his fault. Well, not really. He was clearly in the right here. Right? The fall had been bad enough, his reinforced jump not giving him nearly enough air-time to make the long building jump he thought himself capable of. Ergo, he fell. Pretty fucking far. -92 Into a dumpster. Scratch that. He fell onto a dumpster, only slightly better. If that wasn''t enough, he ended up with the Debuff [Moderate Concussion], which was shitty as all get-out.
[Moderate Concussion] Debuff applied - 20% INT and -25% WIS for 1 hour.
Instead of being knocked out, he had to live with a massive headache for an hour. Yay? Moaning in pain on a bed of garbage bags was bad enough, but being knocked out in gang territory sounded much worse. He''d take the concussion any day. The situation started going to shit once he could already feel someone sneaking up on him right after he fell. Being in Empire territory, he assumed it might have been an Empire guy but decided to play dead regardless. Somehow, though, they could tell he was faking. "You wanna fucking die or something?" the weird atonal voice had shouted. That was when he opened his eyes, his body still aching and his head still bleeding, and the first thing he saw happened to be a dark figure wearing an evil-looking mask. Was it his fault Shadow Stalker''s all-black costume made her look like a scary nightmare creature from any sane child''s dreams? On that same note, Shadow Stalker''s power was creepy as hell. The whole skull inside living shadow thing was weird enough but actually passing through it? Ugggh. A hundred times worse. It was somewhat grainy, almost like what cold sand would be like, the sensation shocking him into alertness even more than the sight of her mask did. Her fist passed by his face as he jerked further back, the fabric on her arm just grazing his jaw. Twisting to the side, Greg''s wrist instinctively snapped up in a manner that he was becoming very familiar with, lashing out at Shadow Stalker''s other wrist. "Would you jus-!" Without a pause, Shadow Stalker shifted again, enveloping Greg for a quick moment as the living cloud of darkness evaded his grip. A hand flew to his mouth, bile rising up as the feeling of graininess entered his throat. Ughhh. "I¡­ ugh¡­ Look, I don''t wa-" he coughed, his voice raspy as he tried to clear his throat of the uncomfortable sensation. "... don''t wan-" Obviously not paying attention to him, Shadow Stalker reformed behind Greg, and kicked at the back of Greg''s knee with an angry scream of "Don''t fucking touch me!" -9 The hard strike sent him up against a wall, his nose becoming intimately familiar with a brick for the second time tonight. Fuck me, I get to deal with the edgiest edgelord in Brockton Bay. -7 Pushing away from the wall, Greg spun away from another punch, a hit that would have driven his face harder into the wall just barely whiffing past him. Shadow Stalker, predicting his move, cut at his legs with a kick, turning his escape move into a swift drop to the trash-covered alley floor. Hand piercing through a garbage bag that was filled to bursting, Greg managed to catch himself by landing into somewhat of a push-up position. Grunting in pain and disgust at the horrible stench of rotten garbage, Greg leapt to his feet again, hands up in obvious surrender. He had already let go of Reinforcement the moment he realized who she was. He wasn''t trying to fight a Ward, after all. "H-h-hey, look, I''m no-" Another kick shut him up, this one aimed a good bit lower than the previous one had been. Bending at the waist, he let out a silent gasp at how hard the tiny cape had hit him. A little part of his brain, the stupid part, was almost surprised that her foot wasn''t stuck between his legs. That part of him was quickly shut up by another boot, this one to the face. -13 -17 The hard hit sent him sprawling backward onto his head, his hands saving him from an even harder landing as he held them above his head and backflipped away from Shadow Stalker, saving him from another painful strike.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 4 ¡ú5
"Good Golly Miss Molly, that hurt!" Landing on his feet in a crouch, Greg shot the Ward a frustrated and slightly scared glance, eyes wide behind his mask as his back brushed up against a mountain of bulging garbage bags. "Also, could you... just, I dunno, give me a second to say something?" Shadow Stalker lifted her pistol crossbow from her waist holster and pointed it at Greg. "I don''t listen to Nazis." With that witty retort, she fired. Greg twisted sideways, his head turning just enough to avoid the bolt that would have struck him dead in the face. The dark Ward reacted quickly, hand rushing to her hip to grab hold of her other crossbow. She wasn''t quick enough. "[Weapon Charge!]" Body reinforced to its current limit, Greg rushed forward, the area of his gloves that bulged over his knuckles lit up with a flash of blue as he screamed out. "Dodge!" Unexpectedly, Shadow Stalker actually did dodge, her body dissipating into a shadowy form yet again and coalescing back to normal a few meters away. Greg was left blinking unexpectedly, fists still raised. "Huh, didn''t actually think you''d dodge that." "Why the fuck wouldn''t I dodge?" Shadow Stalker bit back, her voice a snarl. "I honestly dunno," Greg muttered, voice still raspy. "I was already right in your face and I kinda assumed that you''d be so shocked by me telling you to dodge, that you''d forget to dodge." Even behind a mask, he could tell that Shadow Stalker was pulling a face and her voice changer couldn''t disguise the highest level of disdain. "...If I had all day, I couldn''t tell you how fucking retarded that is." Greg shrugged, lips twitching up into a smile. "Fair enough. Can I go now?" "...what? No, I''m not letting you get away!" Shadow Stalker spat. "You attacked a fucking Ward. Actually, fuck that! You attacked me! I''ll break your legs before I let you go, you blond bastard!" "Huh," Greg paused, letting out a breath through his nose. "that''s pretty racist."
Taunt Lvl Up! 2 ¡ú3
"Fuck you." "...okay, then." Without warning, the blond leaped forward, fist already swinging in a wild arc toward Shadow-Stalker. Dodging his telegraphed strike with practiced ease, Shadow Stalker flipped backward, pulling out another crossbow from her waist holster in mid-air. In an instant, she fired, finger pulling the trigger before she even touched down. Greg''s eyes widened and he moved, his brain screaming at him to do something. Hand snapping up in a manner that he was becoming intimately familiar with, Greg found himself staring at the blunt head of a small crossbow bolt. Did I just¡­
Reflexes Lvl Up! 5 ¡ú6
Realizing that he did in fact just catch it, Greg squeezed the shaft of the crossbow bolt within his grip and with the sound of cracking wood, snapped the piece of ammo in half."Huh." Greg glanced up at Shadow Stalker, the girl obviously stunned by his reaction. "...that was dope. Wanna try it again?" Shadow Stalker took a step back. "The fuck?" "Since you asked," Greg rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh as he did so, "let me tell you. The fuck is that I''m not a Nazi. The fuck is that I''ve been trying to get you to calm down. The fuck is that you might have anger issues." Greg shook his head, letting out a slight laugh as he stared at the broken bolt in his grip. "Also, me catching that arrow thing was super frickin'' awesome and I kinda wanna do that again but I also would rather not get shot so¡­" He let himself trail off, tilting his head slightly. "If you''re not a Nazi, the fuck are you then?" Shadow Stalker finally replied, somewhat hesitantly. The girl Ward stepped back, her mask dipping slightly as she gave him a once-over. "And the fuck are you wearing?" Greg snapped his hands to his hips, puffing out his belt-covered chest as he faced the Ward. "I''m a badass, in case you couldn''t tell, and I wear awesome badass shit." Shadow Stalker snorted, her hands moving to her waist as well. "Is that what you call that?" Scoffing, Greg gestured to his body flamboyantly, barely avoiding the instinct to preen. Sparky had done a good job on his costume, even going along with the few notes that Greg had added, despite his predictable groans about "weab shit". The belts, specifically, did nothing but they made him look like a Final Fantasy character so... they had to stay, regardless of Sparky''s opinions. "Yeah, I also refer to it as my ass-kicking outfit." Ass-kicking was kind of an exaggeration, there. Sure, the bonuses weren''t that hot compared to his old kludge of a costume but at the very least, they were usable. "That gay-ass scarf is part of your ass-kicking outfit?" Shadow Stalker shot back, actual venom in her voice. Raising a finger, Greg tilted his head, futilely clearing his raspy throat for a second before speaking. "First of all, ma''am, it''s called a loose cravat and it''s very stylish. Also, that''s homophobic." "Still fucking gay." Her hands were still on her waist, the position she held looking somewhat uncomfortable but Greg didn''t bother to notice. "Just proving my point but... I''m sure a bunch of people would disagree with you," Greg replied with a grin. Maybe Shadow Stalker''s not half bad. Feels kinda like talking to Sparky¡­ only angrier. "Hell, half the Cape Style forum on PHO would probably disagree with you." "Yeah, whatever, but..." Shadow Stalker grunted disparagingly, one hand vanishing behind her back, swiftly followed by the other. "Only nerds and weirdos fuck around on PHO." Greg blinked at the blunt reply, flinching slightly. "That felt like a personal attack." "That''s not a personal attack." The Ward jerked a hand from her back, pulling out a loaded crossbow and pointing it at Greg. "This is." Fuck me. Blue eyes widened behind his silvery mask and Greg thrust his hands up again. "Wait, I thought we were cool. I thought we agreed I wasn''t a bad guy here!" "I don''t trust villains." She lifted another hand gripping the second crossbow, pre-loaded with her finger already on the trigger. "Oh, you dirty bi-." Her first shot struck his collarbone, Greg shutting up as he let out a violent choking sound. His hands flew up to his neck almost immediately, stumbling back with the sudden shot. -24 Greg took a step back as she advanced on him, crossbow trained on him. His back slammed against the wall a moment later as he took another step backward, the familiar feeling of brick pressed up against him once more forefront in his mind. Fuck¡­ "Just one question¡­" Greg said, voice slightly strained from the second attack to his throat. He raised his hands again, displaying the underside of his gloved palms to the attacking Ward. "You know, before you call back-up and take me in¡­" Shadow Stalker seemed to flinch at what he said, taking a slight step back. "It''s been bugging me this whole fight, to be honest, and I really need it answered." Shadow Stalker continued to circle around him as he talked, her crossbow held up to him in a clear threat, almost as if she was daring him to pull something. She didn''t respond, so Greg took that as permission to continue. "Reinforcement," he whispered under his breath, barely moving his lips. "Are you always such a massive bitch?"
Taunt Lvl Up! 3 ¡ú4
She brandished the crossbow again, taking aim. "Eat shit!" With a scream, she pulled the trigger even as Greg was already on the move. "[Dash Straight!]" Flaring yellow, he took off towards the angry girl at his maximum reinforced speed, leading with a glowing fist. With a swing, he punched aside the bolt and twisted on a dime to face Shadow Stalker, the girl running away to buy time to reload her twin crossbows. "[Dash Straight!]" The skill propelled him slightly further, pushing him slightly faster than his top speed for a few seconds.
Dash Straight Lvl Up! 3 ¡ú4
Angry or not, Shadow Stalker wasn''t stupid. Still running, she twisted her head and took aim at Greg, pulling the trigger in one smooth move. Not even bothering to dodge, Greg snapped his hand up again, this time consciously catching and discarding the bolt. "A second time! Whoooo!"
Reflexes Lvl Up! 6 ¡ú7
Easily leaping over a chain link fence as fast as the Ward drifted through it in her shadow form, Greg found himself in front of Shadow Stalker, having cleared a much farther distance in a shorter time with his reinforced body. "So, is it fun being a ghost?" Rather than be nice and answer his obviously insincere question, she threw a punch at him, grunting as she did so, her swing much slower than her previous ones. Greg, tilting his head back, dodged it and slapped her wrist to the side, before slamming a forearm into her chest. Grunting, the Ward stumbled back against the fence and tried to pull her other crossbow from her waist. Reflexes running at their peak, Greg surged forward, grabbing her wrist with one hand while the other ripped the weapon from her belt and threw it without care, the weapon scattering against the floor. The second was discarded with as much fanfare, leaving Shadow Stalker weaponless as he held her up against the chain link fence, his face nearly pressed up against her mask. "So¡­ you come here often?" A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Like he expected, Shadow Stalker shifted out of his grasp, forcing Greg to pass through her ethereal state. This time, though, he was ready. Ignoring the uncomfortable sensation, the blond jumped up kicking against the fence for added airtime as he pointed his hands downward at her slowly drifting form. "[Mana Glitter!] [Aerokinesis!]" Cupping his hands together, strong wind burst from one palm while a stream of what looked like blue flecks of starlight burst from the other, mixing and flying into Shadow Stalker''s gaseous body. The rush of sparkling dust sent the cloud of darkness straight down into the dirty alley, the flecks of glowing blue light seemingly sticking to the roiling cloud of shadow. Greg grinned as he hit the floor and walked slowly towards Shadow Stalker as the female cape tried to reform, her body twitching painfully as she let out a pained groan. Shifting back to a cloud again, her form persisted on the alley floor, appearing to all the world as the densest possible type of fog. "You know, the PRT really should check what''s up on PHO. There''s tons of speculation about powers. Miss Militia, Dauntless, Aegis¡­ you." The amused tone in his voice was impossible to hide. Not that he wanted to, really. "I mean, a ton of it is bullshit. Some of that my bullshit, to be fair, but a lot of it is also some pretty smart people." "So?" She was back to normal again, seemingly drained as Greg stood over her. The Ward''s body was covered in iridescent glitter that seemed to glow under its own power. The glitter itself seemed to make parts of Shadow Stalker''s costume appear as if it was bedazzled by an over-excited group of little girls, her mask especially so. "So," Greg grinned, striking a pose with one hand splayed out over his face while the other was up in the air "...I read your wiki," he mocked in a sing-song voice. "...fuck." The palpable annoyance in the word was almost as hilarious as the way Shadow Stalker looked, her costume glittering like a diamond as she lay on the ground. +750 XP +Pistol Crossbow
Quest Success! "In Brockton, Shadow Boxes You!" Completed! Gained 8,625 XP. Gained 4 Stat Points Gained 2 Perk Points Gained 10 to [Sneaking] Bonus Objective Failed.
Sneaking Lvl Up! 1 ¡ú 11
Unlocked Perk: Baby Steps Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... -Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight.
Title Unlocked: Ninja - In Training Ninja - In Training It''s my ninja way!!! Equipping title increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 25% and + 2 to SPD STAT.
Holy crap. Missed the bonus but still¡­ Sweeeet. Glancing back down at Shadow Stalker, Greg shook his head. "You love using that shadow form, huh? Just dodging all the hits¡­ must be nice." Shifting his mouth into a happy grin, he prepared a sentence that he knew would rile the girl up, rile any girl up. "Not to sound weird or anything, so don''t take this the wrong way," he let out a high-pitched giggle, the laughter trailing off as he opened his mouth again, "but just for your fans who want to know... exactly how many people have been inside you?" There was silence for a single instant, the quiet broken by Shadow Stalker''s legendary scream of rage.
Taunt Lvl Up! 4 ¡ú5
You have gained 1 CHA.
Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Level 7 Experience 13660/14520
Health 215/365
Mana 195/195
Willpower 172/172
STR 31 SPD 24
VIT 22 INT 23
WIS 9(-80%) CHA 16(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 10
Perk Points: 2
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Lifegiver (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 12 (XP: 10%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 2 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 85%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 2 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 3 (XP: 55%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Force Resistance Lv. 29 (XP: 5%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 3 (XP: 25%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Cold Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Electricity Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Meditation Lvl 4 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Piercing Resistance Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Reflexes Lv 5 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Slashing Resistance Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 5 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.3 Aggro 4.13 "So¡­ after I tell you not to go out and fight Merchants, what do you do?" Greg shrugged, the movement purposely small so as not to jostle the tray in his hands too much. "To be fair, I didn''t take the quest. I let it expire." "But you went out." Sparky''s voice was subtly judgemental, as if trying to scold him without actually doing so. "To train Reinforcement and Acrobatics, yes," the blond replied, smirking slightly. "And I achieved that goal, so¡­" "Mmmm," Greg didn''t need to turn aside to see his friend''s judging expression, lips most likely pressed flat against each other with half-lidded eyes looking at him as if he was a toddler. "How do you go out to do that and end up beating up a Ward?" "Well," Greg snorted as he moved his way down the line, pointing at the container of brown mush that might have been meatloaf. The lunch lady complied, dropping a hunk of said brown mush on his tray with a grunt. "I crushed her in Call of Duty and then she was all ''FITE ME 1V1 IRL FGT.'' One thing lead to another and the rest is history?" "1v1 IRL," Sparky echoed blankly. Greg snuck a peek at his friend''s face out of the corner of his eyes and could barely hold back a snort of laughter at the look of utter disdain Sparky was shooting him. "1v1 IRL." "I swear to God..." Laughing, Greg waved, attempting to divert Sparky''s annoyance. "Okay, okay, okay, I was jumping off buildings, working my reinforcement and acrobatics when I made a¡­ let''s call it a..." he brought his index finger and thumb together, "slightmiscalculation as to how strong I was." "...clarify." "There was a gap. A big gap. I thought I could make it," Greg said with a shake of his head. "I couldn''t. Fell about five, maybe six stories. Got a concussion." "Wow." "Anyway, fought SS. Kinda stumbled a bit, then I beat her with glitter magic and wiki knowledge." "...huh." "Yeah, imagine it. Shadow Stalker trying to get home without anyone seeing her with her costume all sparkly." Greg snickered openly. "Nothing can top that." "And then?" "Waited ''till she could get back up again. Said sorry for, ''kicking your ass, but I told you I wasn''t a baddie so your fault, really'' and got out of there before she could shoot me again." "... I''m still trying to get my head around the fact that your weak ass actually beat a real cape." "A real cape? What am I, a fake one?" Greg scoffed. "You''re just soooencouraging." "Ha¡­ Don''t I know it?" "Funny," Greg retorted, rolling his eyes. "Still, you 1v1-ed the edgiest edgelord in Brockton Bay. That''s insane," Sparky said with a shake of his head. "You know this whole thing is gonna bite you in the butt, right?" "Oh, majorly. PRT''s probably pissed as all get out but I mean, I waited till she was good to get up on her own and I told her I wasn''t a baddie a bunch of times." Greg shrugged as he thought it over. "I doubt they''ll make me a villain, right?" "Who knows?" Sparky responded with a frown. "Not that comforting." "Wasn''t supposed to be. You want comforting?" Sparky shot him a dirty look. "Don''t beat up government sponsored superheroes." "I''ll keep that in mind." Several dozen students jostled around Greg, visibly moving to the side as he walked away from the lunch line. As they headed towards their usual empty table, Greg glanced over at Sparky. "I think I need a different color for my cravat, by the way." "Why? Red''s a good color. Really brightens up your whole black leather situation, y''know." Greg tilted his head, simply replying with one word. "Empire." "...fuck." "...yeah." "How did I not realize that?" The mixed teen shook his head, wincing. "To be fair, I didn''t realize it either." "Yeah, but I spent like three days making the shit," Sparky replied through gritted teeth. "If anyone should have realized how fucking dumb that was, it should have been me." "Don''t beat yourself up about it, man," Greg replied, shrugging again. "Always a solution somewhere, right?" "Yeah," Sparky replied, still wearing a slight frown. "I guess." "How about I buy some spray paint and take care of it?" Greg offered. "Some white and blue spray paint for the leather¡­ replacing the cravat and the hoodie¡­ Add some silver pads¡­ Cut down on the belts¡­ Maybe go all Prototype Saber with the design¡­ Add a little gold etching and a vest? You''re no dashing knight but," Sparky seemed to mull over the thought for a moment before nodding his head slowly, " ...Not a bad idea, G. Best part, Shadow Stalker might not notice it''s you." "Thank you," Greg smirked, raising an eyebrow at his friend and his eye for design. "I didn''t have most of the idea but... thank you."
You have gained 1 WIS.
And thank you too. The two sat down at a free table, one of the longer rectangular gray ones that most students seemed to avoid in lieu of the circular wooden ones for some reason. Greg wondered if there was any real reasoning for that but ultimately, he found himself not actually caring enough to think about it. "Hey, Veder." A low-pitched but oh-so-familiar voice caught his attention, causing Greg to raise his head from his tray and turn to the side. Glancing up, he found his smile fading and his general mood dropping as he found himself face to face with someone he''d rather go the rest of his life without seeing again. Mal Duncan. Six-foot-three, blonde, blue-eyed and muscled to the point that Greg often found himself wondering when he left the gym. A junior who served as the Empire liaison to Winslow, he was little more than a grunt himself but big fish, small pond¡­ In short, he was a bully. Winslow''s top bully, it could be said he was a bully recruiter, turning white kids into future Neo-Nazis. Without a hint of exaggeration, it could be said that he ran Empire business within Winslow''s halls. When he wasn''t mentoring gullible Caucasian freshmen on the proper methods of lynching or whatever, he could be found collecting "protection" money every couple of days from the white kids who didn''t buy his shtick. Case in point, one Gregory Lucas Veder. "Mal¡­" There was no fear in his voice, not anymore at least. His tone, while not hard or in any way angry, bore none of the expected timidity most people had when facing down Mal. He kept his blue eyes locked on Mal''s own, not bothering to look away despite his lower position. He may have been bigger but Greg felt secure in the fact that he had faced much worse than a racist bully with a chip on his shoulder. "What do you want?" Mal''s crooked nose twitched, his mouth quirking up slightly in the hint of a smile. It wasn''t a good smile. It was the smile of someone like¡­ someone like Sophia. That says a lot. Greg thought to himself, blinking. Although, I don''t know if it''s worse for Mal or Sophia. "Observe," he whispered, hiding the movement of his lips by scratching his nose.
Malcolm Duncan Lvl 9 Empire Junior HP: 320/320 Dumb as a bag of rocks. Kicked off Winslow football team in sophomore year for steroid use. Abuses steroids. Hair is dyed blonde. Wears colored contacts. Wants to look like Aryan ideal. Jealous of you for your hair and eyes.
Observe Level Up! 3¡ú4
As Greg read the screen, he had to clamp his mouth shut so as not to smile or burst out laughing. Mal Duncan? Poster boy of the Brockton Bay Chapter of the Hitler Youth Mal Duncan? Oh, this was a gift. Picking on me because he was jealous that I was whiter than him? Oh, I''m gonna enjoy this. Greg stared at Mal''s outstretched hand before raising his gaze to look into Mal''s face. The bully moved his shoulders up and down slightly, the action probably just an excuse to flex his muscles. "You''ve been taking steps, Veder. Steps in the right direction. My boys think you''re ready to step up." The boys he was referring to must not have been the same ones that Greg knew kowtowed to Mal, considering they had looked at him with pretty much the same disdain as they usually did over the past week. "Are you?" Greg raised an eyebrow. "Steps. What steps?" "Don''t think I haven''t seen you," Mal smiled, showing off several chipped teeth proudly. "That nigger Younger, you fucked up his nose. Shut down that ape bitch Hess pretty fucking good, too." He chuckled without much humor in his actual voice. Greg was faced with the sudden realization that he was right next to a laughing Neo-Nazi in the middle of the cafeteria. Glancing back to see Sparky''s askance look and the curious expressions several others were giving him, he obviously wasn''t the only one who realized how off this looked. "Not to mention," Mal continued, "you''ve been working out, too. Looks like you''ve been on the juice. What do you use? Dianabol? Boldenon? Anavar? Winstrol, maybe?" The bully grinned widely. "Or did your parents shell out for for that good Tinker shit?" Greg blinked. Are those all steroids? How much does this guy know about steroids? That can''t be healthy. "Umm¡­ I don''t. Juice, I mean." Malcolm frowned, his head tilting slightly as he gave Greg an odd look. "You don''t? Then how?" He gave Greg''s body a confused glance, Greg''s short sleeved "Level Up!" shirt, showing off his impressively toned forearms as well as being rather tight against his chest. The shorter blonde shrugged. "Crunches, pull-ups and plenty of milk. Can''t forget to mention good genes, I guess." Greg said as he ran a hand through his hair. His lips clenched, fighting a smirk as he saw Mal clench his fist. "Whatever, Veder. Just wanted to say kudos. Keep up the good work," Mal made to put a hand on Greg''s shoulder but the shorter teen leaned away, standing up from the lunch table to avoid having to crane his neck up.
Quest Created! Stand Your Ground II: Establishing Dominance Details: Show Mal Duncan that you can''t be pushed around Success: + 1 STR, 1500 XP Failure: ?
That''s enough for another level! After a moment of staring, his facial muscles unable to fight off a smile at the sight of the pop-up, he spoke up. "You do know that kudos is a Jewish term, right?" Greg''s voice was flat in stark contrast to his amused smile, his eyes blinking slowly at the taller teen. "What?" "Kudos. It''s Yiddish," he lied, smiling widely, "albeit with some distinct origins in Ancient Hebrew."
Bullshitting Level Up! 3¡ú4
Mal snorted, stepping closer to Greg and purposely staring down at him. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Greg shrugged. "Nothing. Just find it interesting that you''re using Jewish terms." His eyebrows rose, a thought suddenly coming to mind. "By the way, I''ve always wondered. How does the Empire rank whiteness?" "What?" Mal screwed his face up as he tried to parse Greg''s question. "I-I don''t¡­" "Like, do you do it the Nazi way with the Swedish, Brits, Germans, and Austrians all the way at the top? Cause that''s my entire ancestry right there. That''s literally it. My family tree suffers from a serious lack of diversity," Greg continued, smiling slightly at the flinch Mal gave at his words. "So, if, and that''s a huge if, I joined up with the Empire, would I get a better position than you or something?"
You have gained 1 CHA.
A vein in Mal''s forehead bulged, his fists clenched tightly as he glared at Greg. Ew. Maybe ease up on the steroids there, bud. "You think you''re hard now, Veder? You think ''cause you smacked one stupid bitch, you got balls, huh?" Don''t make a shrunken balls joke. Don''t make a shrunken balls joke. Don''t. Make. A. Shrunken. Balls. Joke. Greg shrugged, his lips pressed together in a tight smile as he tried to fight a laugh. "I mean the point is that you''re all about race when I''m pretty sure you bully people who are just as white if not more white than you are. For example, both my parents are blondes with blue eyes. Your eye and hair color are both fake." The taller teen growled and stomped forward, pushing Greg back with one hand. "H-how the fuck do you know that?" "Huh¡­" Greg blinked, glancing down at the hand that had pushed him with a raised eyebrow and a tight smile. "You know everybody knows it, right? I mean, you make it obvious. You don''t even try and dye your eyebrows." "Shut your fucking mouth, Veder!" His fist rose, balled tightly with the muscles on his forearms bulging threateningly. Greg blinked, his lips quirking back up again despite how much he tried to fight it. "...no. Let''s look at your name for example. Malcolm Duncan. Both names very Scottish. Y''know Hitler hated Scottish people. Called them animals with the Devil''s hair." His eyes flicked up to Mal''s hairline. "Let me guess¡­ natural redhead?"
Bullshitting Level Up! 4¡ú5 Taunt Level Up! 5¡ú6
The taller blond threw a fist, forcing Greg to duck back, his eyes tracking the limb as it passed in front of his eyes. [Reflexes] was an interesting ability. Well, it was more useful than interesting. Each level supposedly decreased his overall reaction time. Considering the skill was now sitting steady at level 7, Greg was pretty sure that his reflexes were a great deal better than the average person''s which was pretty frickin'' awesome when you thought about it. Mal drew his fist back and swung again, Greg stepping back and to the side to let the bulky arm pass by him. Following instincts that he had grown used to, Greg grabbed hold of the limb and pulled it forward as he stepped out of the way, sending Mal sprawling forward to his knees. Like a gunshot, the murmuring in the cafeteria shot up, going from a soft background noise to almost oppressive in its volume. "Ask him if he made the carpet match the drapes with that blond bleach!" A voice shouted out from not too far away. Greg snapped his mouth shut, a snort getting out before he could stop it. "Thank you, Sparky but I think he already heard you." As if on cue, Mal jumped to his feet, throwing another punch with an angry grunt. Stepping aside was almost too easy, considering how sloppy and angry the swing was. His foot snapped out, almost before he thought about it and he swept it, sending the larger teen to the floor again. "Wow, twice in a row." Greg clicked his tongue a few times. "I''d cut my losses at this point if I were you." The words were far more for his benefit than Mal''s, really. If he was forced to throw a punch, he might hit hard enough to actually hurt the wannabe Nazi, considering the extra points he had dumped into STR the night before, and getting into actual trouble was not something he was looking forward to. Mal stood up again, taking his time as opposed to the sudden jump of last time. Brushing some actual dirt off his jacket, he shot Greg a dark glare. "You''re gonna regret this, Veder." "I mean, am I? Really?" Greg narrowed his eyes, pulling a grimace. "Like, the Empire is pretty shitty but come on, look at my face. I''m, like, their target demographic or something." He stuck out his tongue. "What are they really gonna do to me?" Rather than answer, Mal turned on his heels and walked off, his shoulders hunched.
Quest Success! "Stand Your Ground II: Establishing Dominance" Completed Details: Show Mal Duncan that you can''t be pushed around. Gained 1500 xp Gained 1 STR
Level Up! You are now Level 8. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. You gained 2 Stat Points.
Sweetness. Smiling brightly, Greg plopped himself back onto his seat, the excitement of a level up coursing through him. "So," he turned to Sparky, "you seen Sophia today?" "So," Sparky raised an eyebrow as his friend sat back down at the table, the rest of the eager crowd dispersing as Mal stalked off angrily. "Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?" Greg blinked. "Do we have to?" "...guess not," Sparky shrugged after a moment''s thought, mumbling slightly under his breath. "Either way, I don''t think Hess is here. Why, though?" Sparky shot him a wry look, barely looking up from underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "Trynna troll her into losing her shit again?" "No¡­ okay, yes." Greg relented, chuckling under his breath. "It''s just so fun." "I mean, fair enough but you might wanna chill out," Sparky replied, head resting on the cold cafeteria table. "Like, I hate her but you gotta give her props." He frowned, raising his head slightly. "All that attitude in such a tiny body. Though she be little, bitch be fierce." Greg shook his head. "Can you blame me? It''s better than messing around on PHO¡­ almost." "Makes sense¡­" Sparky replied, nodding slowly. He raised an eyebrow, eyes lighting up as if suddenly recalling something. "Are you still temp banned, anyway?" "I¡­ huh," Greg frowned, lifting a hand to his chin. "I honestly didn''t check. I''m pretty sure my last PHO ban ended on Monday, though." "So, that mean Void Cowboy will ride again?" his friend said with a smirk, his expression slightly expectant. Greg shrugged, a slight frown on his face. "Maybe, but¡­ not right now. I wanna get somewhere with my powers first. Maybe join New Wave possibly ''cause I can glow blue and yellow, y''know. Or, I could sign up with a big company, get a sponsorship." A light frown appeared on his face for a few seconds before vanishing as a thoughtful smile replaced it. "I kinda might know someone who can help out there so¡­ options." "Kinda might?" "Kinda might," Greg echoed back, nodding. "Why not the Wards, though?" Sparky volunteered. "Bunch of kids our age. Free college, basically. You get paid." "C''mon, man." Greg rolled his eyes and sighed, shrugging his shoulders again. "I told you already. No one in their right mind should trust the PRT. We live in a world full of superheroes. Everyone knows that governments are always evil conspiracies in superhero worlds."
You have gained 1 WIS Point.
Weird, but okay. Greg threw up his hands, shaking his head as he continued his slightly manic rant. "Look at China. They''re obviously the lawful evil. Africa is chaotic evil. So is South America and a bunch of Russia. That means America and Europe are probably neutral evil." Sparky blinked at him. "So?" "So?!" Greg scoffed. "The entire U.S. government is probably run by the Illuminati of superheroes or something. Ten bucks says the President is under their thumb. Are you honestly telling me that if you were Eidolon, you''d let some pencil pusher in a suit tell you what to do just cause he takes a dump in the White House? You think the Library of Alexandria is cool with some random lady in a pantsuit telling her what to do just because she runs the PRT?" "Bro, nobody calls her th-" Not quite done, Greg barrelled through his friend''s attempt to speak. "Heck, Legend is probably the worst of them. Someone that super-nice? I don''t buy it. Nobody is that nice except for Mr. Rogers. Gay Laser Man has some T-Rex sized skeletons in his closet, I bet my life on it." For a moment, Greg paused then he let out a snort, giggling under his breath. "...closet. Closet¡­ get it¡­ cause he''s gay? That one wasn''t even on purpose." "I¡­ ugh, I get it. Wasn''t funny but I get it." Sparky sighed, lifting a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. "...your point?" "Party pooper." Greg stuck out his tongue. "My point is that judging from what I''ve put together, Canada is probably the most evil country on the face of the planet, with the USA right behind them." He blinked. " Also, Legend''s probably a cannibal." His friend stared at him for a long moment. "...how do you not have a permanent ban on PHO yet?" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 710/16350
Health 410/410
Mana 205/205
Willpower 175/175
STR 38 SPD 26 (+2)
VIT 24 INT 28
WIS 11(-80%) CHA 17(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 2
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Minor Aerokinesis Lv MAX All the power of a stiff wind. Exert the force of your air control over a range of 5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 14 (XP: 20%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 2 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 95%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 2 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 3 (XP: 55%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Meditation Lvl 4 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 7 (XP: 55%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 29 (XP: 65%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 5 (XP: 35%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 5 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.4 Aggro 4.4 Meditation was weird. No, really. It was. Aside from the fact that time seemed to pass much faster while he was ''in a trance'', so to speak, it also seemed to do something weird to his emotions. Similar to Gamer''s Mind, it calmed his thoughts and almost forced him to dwell on himself, allowing him to not only think about the energies in his body worked but also how his own mind functioned. In a broader sense, at least. He didn''t like it. Not one bit. That sort of introspection wasn''t his thing and it made him feel all uncomfortable. A little self-reflection never hurt anyone but that didn''t mean he had to enjoy it.
You have gained 1 WIS. You have gained 1 INT.
Mana Awareness Lvl Up! 5¡ú6 Willpower Awareness Lvl Up! 4¡ú5 Meditation Level Up! 8¡ú9
Well, he did enjoy that. BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP Blue eyes snapped open, Greg leaping to his feet in an instant as an alarm went off by his head. His chest was heaving, not from exhaustion or any real exertion, but simply because of the sudden shock, his adrenaline already rushing through his body. His eyes shot from side to side, landing on his computer chair just a meter away where Sparky sat, a bowl of ice cream in his friend''s grip and a spoon in his mouth. "Yo," was the muffled greeting he received. Shoulders slumping, Greg let out a sigh. "Is that my¡­" Sparky smirked as he removed the spoon from his mouth, the plastic utensil licked clean. "Yeah." Another reason he hated meditating was how it made him feel for a few minutes after. Apparently, being in tune with your mind and body meant that he was a lot more... more after a round of meditation. His skin felt warmer, his heart seemed to beat like a rabbit''s and his senses¡­ Well, his senses were on overdrive. All of them seemed to be at their peak for the ten minute period after his meditation, each one clamoring for his attention like a neglected child. That included his sense of hearing, touch, taste, sight¡­ smell. Greg sighed again, his nostrils flaring as the scent of vanilla hit him. "That''s my vanilla ice cream¡­" Tilting his head, he took another sniff of the air, wrinkling his nose slightly as he did so. "...with sea salt." "And real Madagascar vanilla, I know. I read the label too." Sparky rolled his eyes. "I said ''yeah'', didn''t I?" "You know what?" Greg shook his head as his friend continued to eat his ice cream, uncaring of Greg''s reaction. In his opinion, it was really a testament to their closeness that he wasn''t dropkicking Sparky right now. That ice cream was expensive, considering it was made from imported ingredients, after all. To be fair, Greg didn''t spend a dime on it himself. Something like that would be an insane luxury and an allowance can only go so far. Still, the basement fridge full of the stuff had been a gift from his godfather and Greg had a tendency to guard it selfishly. "I''ll just let it go." "You do that." His friend glanced up from the bowl, staring at Greg from underneath brown bangs. "Sea salt and vanilla? Mmm. That''s some Caucasian shit if I ever heard it but this is delish, so..." His words trailed off as he ate another spoon of ice cream. Sighing, the blond cast a glance to his bedside table, his alarm clock already silent. 4:20 "I was under for the whole hour and a half?" Greg asked aloud, more to himself than Sparky. A slight frown accompanied the words, Greg struggling to understand exactly how he felt about that. He was aware that time seemed to pass faster when he was under but¡­ That''s a little much. "Yep," Sparky answered through a mouthful of ice cream. "Honestly thought you fell asleep after a bit." "Huh," Greg pulled a face, shrugging slightly. "Doesn''t matter, I guess. Meditation is still super helpful." His hands crossed across his torso, grabbed the bottom of his shirt and Greg pulled it up over his head, tossing the black ''Level Up!'' shirt onto his bed without even looking at it. "Think I figured something out, by the way." ''Hmm." Sparky''s gaze lingered on Greg''s chest for a scant moment, quickly glancing up at his face as he pulled the spoon from his mouth again. "Is it how to take off a shirt like a boy?" "What?" Greg''s head tilted, giving Sparky a curious look as he tried to parse the odd question. "Nah, it''s¡­ heh." His friend''s lip quirked, taking another spoon of ice cream as he shook his head. "Nothing. Continue." "Oookay." Greg turned to fully face his friend, his forearms bent at a ninety-degree angle. "So, I was thinking about what you said last week¡­" At Sparky''s curious look, Greg tried to elaborate. "Y''know, about trying to get a work-around to aerokinesis?" "Maybe, I might have said a passing sentence about something like that¡­" The long-haired teen nodded, placing the empty bowl next to Greg''s desktop. "Yeah?" "So, I was kinda thinking about it while I was meditating." Greg frowned slightly at that. "Well, I didn''t mean to think about it but the thought came into my head and my brain kinda went with it but¡­" he clicked his tongue, casting a glance at his forearms, "I think I know what to do." Without even giving Sparky a chance to speak, blue wisps of light began to flare from Greg''s body, his torso surrounded by a far denser aura than the rest of his body. "See, I was being stupid. I thought¡­" he paused, narrowing his eyes as he clenched his fists tightly, "...I thought that all I had to do was push the air around, y''know?" Sparky watched, eyes widening as air began to flutter around Greg''s upper body, wind visible as it buffeted his hair upwards. "All I was doing was pushing the air out of my hands out of my body and trying to move it. I could do that and it could work but it''d be way harder. It''d take so much more time, y''know?" Greg shook his head, speaking more to himself than Sparky at this point. "The skill says I can exert the force of air in an area of around five meters around me. Obviously, I''m not actually controlling the air." "Obviously?" The mixed teen raised an eyebrow. "Obviously," Greg said with a grin. "What I''m doing is controlling my mana to control the air so if there''s none of my mana in the air," He closed his eyes, the wind in his room picking up as his body began to let off torrents of air, similar to a large fan, "there''s nothing for me to control. But now, just like that," his hands rose to his chest and the wind picked up, sending a quick gale throughout the entire room, forcing Sparky to blink.
Basic Aerokinesis Skill Unlocked Minor Aerokinesis ¡ú Basic Aerokinesis
Basic Aerokinesis Lv 1 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 7.5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use
"I''m an airbender!" Laughing, Greg brought his palms closer to one another, rotating his hands as a funnel seemed to form around his hands, his face lighting up with glee as the air within his grasp became denser, almost visible the longer he held it. "And the best part is¡­ listen to this," the blond cackled, "since I''m not using the full force, I use like a fraction of the mana but I can control it so much better. Ha!" Greg''s face broke out into a manic grin, his hair flying upwards like some demented mad scientist. "You see this, Sparky? This is so awesome!" His friend didn''t reply for a few seconds, simply staring wide-eyed as Greg kicked up a wind around his room, his eyes lacking the raw excitement of Greg''s. "Y¡­ you ever think you might be doing too much?" Sparky''s question came out of nowhere, cutting off the flow of conversation with just those few words. "Huh?" Greg opened his eyes to glance at his friend, letting the blue glow of mana fade from his upper body along with the strong breeze he was kicking up as he dropped his hands back to his sides. "What do you mean, Sparks?" "Like, your powers. You think... Ugh, how do I put this?" Sparky clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he did so. "Everyone knows capes are a little¡­ off, you know?" Greg shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." For the most part, that was pretty much a given when it came to capes. They were a little weird, almost every cape having idiosyncrasies that were only made more obvious due to how outlandish costumed heroes were in practice. "Why?" "Well," the long-haired teen tilted his head with a sigh. "Think about it, brah. You''ve been acting a bit more¡­ you than usual lately." "You say that like it''s a bad thing." "Not exactly but," he paused, glancing up at Greg, "like, you''re a lot for a person, if you know what I mean¡­ no homo." "No homo." Greg nodded in agreement. "And lately," Sparky continued with a heavy sigh, "you''ve been getting cocky, brah. Like, very cocky." "I mean, why not be cocky?" Greg grinned, poking himself in the chest with a thumb. "I''m awesome! I got powers, Sparks! Like, I literally have magic!" "Yeah, that¡­" Sparky gave a visible wince at the word "magic" but shook his head and soldiered on. "I''m not going to say what I think about¡­ that whole situation but I feel like you''re letting the idea of this being a game, I dunno, get to your head a little, brah." Mumbling incoherently, Greg gave Sparky a noncommittal shrug. "I mean¡­ I don''t think so." "You don''t really think all that often, though, do you?" Sparky raised both eyebrows for a moment before dropping them as he shook his head. "Brah, I''m not saying you''re dumb or nothing. You''re straight-up smarter than me. Always have been in everything except math." Greg nodded at that point, raising a hand to his chin. He did hate doing math, although it was getting a heck of a lot easier the past few days. Maybe I should try and grind INT or something. What can I do? Fix a car or something? I''ll find out. "But, brah," his friend continued, "you really don''t use your head. Like," the mixed teen paused, licking his lips, "you beat up Shadow Stalker and you just brushed it off like a joke." "Technically," Greg raised a finger, sucking in a breath as he did so, "I did try to settle it with words. She just wasn''t having it. Sucks for her, right?" "Really, brah?" Sparky narrowed his eyes. "Was that because you didn''t want to fight her or because the quest gave you the option?" "...mmm." Greg opened his mouth, before closing it with an audible ''click'' of his teeth. "...little of both, really," he replied with a nervous smile. "What''s wrong with that?" "...Mal." The single syllable fell from Sparky''s lips after a long moment of silence. "Huh?" "You got a quest to fight Mal, too. Didn''t you?" "...yeah." "So, would you have done what you did without the quest?" "I¡­" Greg blinked, opening his mouth again and leaving it like that. He wasn''t sure he wanted to answer that question, to be honest. Hell, he wasn''t sure he wanted there to be an answer to that question. "Does it even matter?" "Yeah, it matters," Sparky said, staring at Greg disbelievingly. "You told me about these quests and you honestly don''t think they''re fucking with your head, brah?" "You sure about that?" Greg frowned. "I mean, if we were talking about Gamer''s Mind, I''d get it but¡­" "G, forget about Gamer''s Mind for a f-" He bit back a curse, licking his lips as he tried to get his thoughts in order. "Your unconscious is what''s giving you these quests, I''m guessing. You''re letting your unconscious thoughts change your behavior and puppet you around. You don''t see anything wrong with that?" "Y''know what?" Greg walked over to his closet, turning his back on Sparky as he pulled out a new shirt. Slipping the "Be Excellent to Each Other" shirt on quickly, he gave his friend a glance over his shoulder. "You''re absolutely right, best buddy." "Buddy?" Sparky''s expression fell, his head shaking slightly. "Yepparoo." "Dude, I get that you don''t wanna talk but you don''t gotta use that weird old-people speak you do when you''re nervous," Sparky dropped his gaze. "It''s just weird." "I do wanna talk but... let''s pencil this for later. Right now, we''re going shopping," Greg stretched out the last word with a slightly forced grin, pulling on a jacket as he spoke. "And don''t worry, I''m paying." "You''re seriously gonna just ignore everything I just said?" Sparky blinked as he watched Greg flit around the room, throwing on clothes as he prepared to head out. "Seriously¡­" "I promise I''ll meditate on it." Greg lifted his head from tying his shoes to wink at his friend. "How about that?" "You''re¡­ proving my point right now, you know that, right?." "I mean," The blond shrugged. "I guess but can we talk about this later? This is crunch time." "Crunch time," Sparky echoed, his eyelids falling as he gave his friend a blank stare. It wasn''t a question and they both knew it. "Yeaaaah,'' Greg said with a snort. "I''m heading down to Warren''s Hardware first then Joe''s Pawn Shop, then Jock''s Sporting Emporium. We got a whole shopping list to get through. Can''t forget the spray paint and pads too, right?" Glancing at his friend''s disheveled and underdressed state, the blond shook his head. "Come on. Get ready, man. You''re gonna help me pick out the other stuff too." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "Other stuff? What other stuff? Why?" The questions, albeit simple, were extremely pertinent, in Sparky''s opinion. "My stats are way too low to pull off an Assault build right now, so I gotta do an Armsmaster." With that odd statement, Greg walked out of his room, obviously headed down the stairs. Sparky remained where he sat, unmoving from Greg''s computer chair. Lowering his head into a single palm, he let out a long sigh. "Why do I even¡­" "Come on, Sparks!" The teen in question raised his head to see his friend''s face poking in through the doorway, face as eager as always. "Hurry up, man! We gotta get this done today." Sparky sighed, cupping his chin as he gave his friend a long-suffering stare. "Why are you in such a hurry, anyway?" Greg sighed, having the gall to appear as if he was the one being stressed out. "Well, me and Emma have a thing tomorrow and the pawn shop closes at 5:30 today. Besides, they only have a couple swords left in store and I want to grab at least one of ''em." With that, the blond''s head vanished around the corner, his voice trailing off behind him. "Come on already!" Shaking his head, Sparky sat up from the ergonomic chair, picking up the bowl of ice cream in one hand and walked forward only to freeze after a few steps, hazel eyes widening as Greg''s last words fully landed. "Did you say swords?!" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 710/16350
Health 410/410
Mana 210/210
Willpower 175/175
STR 40 SPD 26 (+2)
VIT 24 INT 29
WIS 12(-80%) CHA 17(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $562.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Basic Aerokinesis Lv 1 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 7.5 meters. (80 mph) Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Observe Lv 3 (XP: 65%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 14 (XP: 20%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 2 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 1 (XP: 95%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 1 second. Length of charge increases by 1 second for every level. Damage multiplier increases by .20 with every level. Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 6 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 5 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 3 (XP: 55%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Meditation Lvl 9 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 7 (XP: 55%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 29 (XP: 65%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 5 (XP: 35%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 5 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: Ninja Magic and Stabby Things Cutscene: Ninja Magic and Stabby Things
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Sunday, April 3, 2011 Captain¡¯s Woods, Brockton Bay Captain¡¯s Hill was a rather well-off neighborhood in Brockton Bay. Some would call it the area of town where the wealthiest lived, far enough from the wretched hive of crime and villainy that consisted of the city proper that they could enjoy their cozy, wealthy lives. Interestingly, the Captain¡¯s Hill neighborhood was built off to the side of a large forest, leaving it as one of the few places in the Bay with any real connection to nature, with the sounds of small fauna acting as a sort of buffer from the drifting din of city life. Today, however, the woods seemed strangely silent for an early afternoon like this, the birds noiseless and other animals that may have been present almost unheard. That left the only sounds coming from the dense woods near the Captain¡¯s Hill neighborhoods being the rustling of a large thicket of trees, the rushing of the wind itself and the grunting of one fifteen-year old boy. The fifteen-year-old boy in question stood in the center of a copse of trees, his chest and feet bare. Once again, the young blond was in nothing but a pair of tight shorts but then again, it wasn¡¯t like he minded the outfit considering he bought it for exactly this reason. Either way, his attention was far too focused on his current goal to care about something like that. Greg threw a punch, his fist twisting slightly as it moved through the air, the wind around him seeming to swirl about the trees faster and faster with him at the epicenter as he moved. His vertical fist turned horizontal, wisps of blue mana curling around his forearm as the blond drew his arm back before the full extension. ¡°F¨±ton¡­¡± Pivoting, he struck out at the air again with a single palm, a look of intense concentration on his face. ¡°Repp¨±sho!¡± With the force of his thrust, a burst of wind flew from his gathered palms, striking the trunk of a young tree and forcing its weak branches to tremble violently. Spinning rapidly once more as if to build up momentum, he faced the same tree again, this time thrusting both palms forward violently. ¡°Daitoppa!¡± With the shout, an explosion of air burst from his palms, far larger and far more violent the previous one. Dense enough to be seen as a beach ball-sized collection of air, it rushed towards the tree just a few meters away and struck it hard. As the wind ball dispersed with the force of a gale, thick branches fell from the sapling, hitting the ground and scattering fresh leaves into the air. A moment later, he dropped into another stance, mana thickening around his limbs in a blue aura. ¡°Reinforcement!¡± A flash of yellow lit his body up for an instant and Greg rushed toward the thickest tree around him, legs propelling him forward at over forty miles an hour. Without pausing, the soles of his feet met the tree trunk and Greg didn¡¯t stop, his momentum carrying him upwards as mana coated his feet. Halfway up the tree itself, before his concentration could give out, Greg sprung off the tree, reinforced legs launching him away with an explosive spray of shattered bark. Flipping over in mid-air, the blond righted himself and launched a horizontal kick, the attack aimed in the direction of the same large tree he jumped off of. Wind wrapped around his leg, in a collection of air dense enough to be translucent, suddenly shot forward in the shape of a crescent and struck the tree. ¡°Rankyaku!¡± Where the blade of wind landed, a thick slash appeared on the tree, digging into the wood hard enough to leave a wide line of stripped bark on the trunk itself. The glass around him flattened as he landed, his blue aura dispersing as his feet touched down, both softening his fall and sending out a soft gale of wind in a circle around him. Shaking his head, Greg let out a long breath, a slight smile on his face as he surveyed his handiwork.
Reinforcement Level Up! 17¡ú18 Acrobatics Level Up! 12¡ú13 Surface Adhesion Level Up! 8¡ú9 Beginner Combat Level Up! 3¡ú4 Language: Japanese Level Up! 6¡ú7
The teen glanced upwards, obvious confusion clear in his expression as he waited for something else, ignoring the primary pop-up as if it was of no importance. Where are they? When nothing happened after a few seconds, he turned around and gave his friend a similarly confused glance. Sparky himself sat in a beach chair nestled between two intertwined trees, an umbrella attached to the back of the folding chair acting as protection from falling foliage. By his side sat an entire box of Capri-Sun drinks and several cartons of sugar cookies and donuts, both with enough frosting to border on the verge of nauseating. The long-haired teen raised his gaze from his large sketchpad, letting the drawing tablet fall into his lap as he lifted a hand to his face. Lowering a pair of black sunglasses from his eyes, he gave Greg a disinterested glance. ¡°Let me guess, no luck?¡± Hands clenched at his sides, the blond made a constipated face before finally letting out an explosive sigh, the action more an exhalation of breath than any indication of emotion. ¡°No¡­ not yet.¡± ¡°Imagine my shock,¡± Sparky replied, his voice conveying no shock at all. Without looking, he reached over and pulled out a pastry from one of the see-through containers, taking a large bite. ¡°Dude¡­¡± Greg whined, shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want me to say, brah. It¡¯s been a good thirty minutes. If you keep at it, there¡¯ll be no trees left,¡± Sparky replied, speaking through a mouthful of doughnut. ¡°How ¡®bout cutting your losses and working on something else?¡± ¡°One more try?¡± Greg shot him a smile, a weak one but one with traces of optimism still visible in it. Sparky didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°No.¡± His grin fading quickly, Greg whined again, ¡°It should work, though!¡± ¡°I think I mentioned something about cutting your losses.¡± ¡°But¡­ b-but,¡± Greg paused, his frown turning downwards into a full pout, ¡°this should work! I named them and everything! I should have made at least five different skills by now!¡± ¡°You already have aerokinesis, brah,¡± his friend spoke up again, not even looking at him as he talked. ¡°Maybe everything you¡¯re trying to do just counts as aerokinesis in your head so you can¡¯t make anymore skills with it.¡± ¡°Bu-¡± ¡°Bro.¡± Sparky frowned slightly, shooting Greg a slightly more intense look over his glasses. ¡°You¡¯re literally using names from Naruto just to look cool. Just give it up.¡± With a click of his tongue, Greg rolled his eyes. ¡°Fine, let¡¯s do something else. You got the balls?¡± Sparky rolled his eyes, his head tilting slightly as he placed an upraised palm under his chin. ¡°I skipped out on band practice for this, you know.¡± ¡°Glad you could make it,¡± Greg replied back, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice. ¡°T-Bone¡¯s not exactly happy about me skipping the last four practices, by the way.¡± Sparky huffed, hands going back behind his head to pull his hair into a ponytail, a black rubber band at the tips of his enclosed fingers. Greg rolled his eyes at the mention of that name. T-Bone, one of Sparky¡¯s other ¡°friends¡± was a drummer and basically a Merchant in all but the clothing, and even that wasn¡¯t too far from what the gang of drug dealers wore. Greg felt he was bad news. Sparky thought Greg was exaggerating. ¡°You can tell your high-school dropout twenty-year old friend that maybe he can do something else with his weekends,¡± Greg sneered. ¡°Like, I dunno, get a job or something.¡± Sparky snorted in response, shooting Greg a curious glance. ¡°Wow, just say you¡¯re jealous, brah. I won¡¯t judge.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not jealous,¡± Greg whined for the third time that afternoon, his face pulled down into a slight pout. ¡°I could almost believe that if you weren¡¯t pouting.¡± Greg shook his head, giving Sparky a sharp glare. ¡°Whatever, let¡¯s just do this.¡± Sparky shrugged in return, a smug smirk on his face, and made to get up out of the chair. Greg, on the other hand, dropped into a stance and began to seed the air with his mana once more, his thoughts moving rather quickly as he tried to focus. Air was¡­ a very strange thing to actually feel. Not just in the tactile sense, either. With his mana all active and around his body like this, Greg could literally feel it around him but moving it? That was an entirely different situation. Strangely enough, the use of aerokinesis was far closer to airbending than Greg had expected, the movements of his body contributing to his effects on the element itself. Actually manipulating the wind itself was¡­ Well, it was a doozy to actually describe. The highly simplified explanation he gave Sparky barely scratched the surface of what it was to control the air. Hell, he barely understood what he was actually doing. Simply by letting his mana drift around his body in wisps, Greg could feel the air around him in a way he doubted anyone other than Stormtiger could. Controlling the air itself was little more than him using the momentum that already existed in the air currents and moving it along a set path with his mana acting as a sort of engine for the whole process, giving it far more power than it should rightly have. Movement contributed to the motion of the air, his momentum, speed and mana enhancing the effects of his amateur blasts and pushes of wind. That had been the understanding he had gained from meditation the other day, along with an understanding of how to actually move the air around him. Sure, he didn¡¯t have to shout out move names while he did it, but that was part of the fun. The other, somewhat less important, understanding he had gained was that using air as a shield, in a purely defensive manner, required stability; that of his body and mind. In contrast to what he had learned from television, using the air as a shield was far less about maneuverability or being light on one¡¯s feet. Instead, it was far more about understanding how the object he was defending himself from interacted with the air and the best way to move it aside with the wind itself. Or, barring that, block it completely before it ever had a hope of touching him. Still, without movement, that was easier said than done. Sparky dropped to the floor, pulling out a black backpack that rested underneath the beach chair he had been relaxing on. The bag itself was bulging and as Sparky unzipped it, it was easy to see why. The insides of the bag were filled with balls. Yellow tennis balls, to be exact. They were all slightly stained and frayed, Greg having bought as many as he could on a run through the thrift store for the purposes of training. Buying them brand-new had been an option but he wasn¡¯t made of money. He had other, far more important, purchases to make so he couldn¡¯t afford to be too frivolous with his remaining cash. Sparky lifted the first ball from the bag resting by the chair, tossing it up and down a few times as his eyes tracked the motion of the yellow sphere. ¡°You ready?¡± Greg narrowed his eyes, the air around him thickening slightly as a blue haze formed around his body, the wind wrapped around him like a cloak. ¡°Distract me,¡± Greg spoke up, face tightly scrunched up as he tried to concentrate on keeping the cloak active. ¡°What, brah?¡± ¡°Distract me,¡± Greg repeated, glancing up slightly to meet Sparky¡¯s eyes. ¡°This is practice and I need to be able to pull this off without thinking too hard.¡± Sparky tilted his head, loose bangs falling into his eyes for a moment before he calmly shrugged. ¡°No problem. How about just talking for now?¡± As he said this, he tossed a ball at Greg, the throw itself not all that hard. ¡°So, spring break? Plans?¡± ¡°Going to Hershey¡¯s Park with Mom.¡± Greg grunted as he slapped the air with a hand, a powerful gust of wind sending the yellow ball flying back at Sparky. Hand snapping back, Sparky caught the tennis ball, a wince on his face. ¡°Huh. Nice. You like it?¡± ¡°Always do. What¡¯s not to love about Hershey¡¯s Park? ¡°Hn.¡± Sparky hummed, closing one eye as he tossed the ball up into the air again, as if testing it for something. ¡°So, have fun on your - ugh! - date?¡± With a hard grunt, Sparky tossed the ball back again, harder than before. ¡°Yeah, we met at the Boardwalk for lunch, then we went to the arcade.¡± Hands curled into claws, Greg pulled at the air, sending the ball flying into the trees, the sound of rustling branches and falling leaves a mark of its entrance into the forest proper. ¡°Wow, the arcade?¡± Sparky¡¯s voice was anything but sincere, sarcasm pouring off him in waves as he tossed another ball. ¡°Did you take her to the drive-in and the malt shop too? Stop off at Make-Out Point after?¡± ¡°No, you jerk,¡± Greg replied, pouting slightly. ¡°Besides, I think she had fun.¡± With a sweeping movement of both his arms, Greg knocked the ball of course, sending it rolling to the ground a few meters away. ¡°You think?¡± ¡°Well, I won her some prizes, showed how her to play some games got her some funnel cake but she didn¡¯t really eat it, and¡­¡± Greg broke off, wincing slightly as he remembered something. ¡°What?¡± Sparky asked, breaking out the suspicious, judgy tone again. ¡°What did you do now?¡± The ball he threw this time was faster than the ones before it, curving slightly in the air as Sparky through it. ¡°Nothing,¡± Greg said far too quickly, his face red. As the ball entered his seven-and-a-half meter range, he could already feel it coming through the air. Ironically, the curve Sparky had put into only helped him deflect it easier with the wind. Why? He wasn¡¯t exactly sure. ¡°The Whack-A-Mole machine just broke while Emma was playing it.¡± ¡°While Emma was playing it.¡± Sparky¡¯s face was the epitome of unamused. ¡°I¡­ uh,¡± Greg winced again, laughing haltingly. ¡°...might have tried to impress Emma and kinda¡­ might have¡­ maybe¡­ broken the Whack-A-Mole machine with some¡­ uh, let¡¯s call it, overzealous pounding.¡± Sparky blinked, the closing and opening of his eyes somehow taking much longer than it should. After a moment, he let out a sigh, the sides of his mouth twitching before he spoke. ¡°...Well¡­ at the very least, you didn¡¯t break Emma with any overzealous pounding, right?¡± A dirty grin grew across his friend¡¯s face, his eyebrows wiggling up and down suggestively. ¡°Am I right or am I right?¡± Now, it was Greg¡¯s turn to blink in surprise, his face reddening even further even as he deflected another approaching ball with a hard push of air. ¡°You¡¯re a terrible person.¡± ¡°Which of us broke a Whack-A-Mole game ¡®cause they were horny for a ginger?¡± ¡°...You¡¯re still a terrible person.¡± Three circular walls of air, layered on top of each other, sapped the momentum from the fastball Sparky threw at him, Greg not even blinking as the yellow projectile fell to the floor a meter away from him.
Reflexes Level Up! 7¡ú8
¡°Just saying. I mean I know I could never go for a redhead. Could you imagine a Jewish Black Samoan Hispanic Ginger?¡± Sparky retched, visibly shuddering but Greg could tell he was mostly joking. ¡°I¡¯m disgusted just saying it,¡± Sparky continued. ¡°Ughhh, I mean seriously, it would be an abomination unto nature¡­ like a dog fucking a cat¡­ fucking a horse¡­ fucking a dolphin.¡± Finishing his grotesque analogy, Sparky winked at his blond friend with a smirk on his face. ¡°...Terrible. Person.¡± Greg said, face blank.
Basic Aerokinesis Level Up! 3¡ú4
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg stood in front of a tree again, staring carefully at it as if pondering the nature of oak as a material. After taking a short snack break with Sparky, Greg found himself ready to practice what he really came out here for. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. After all, it was one of the main reasons he went out shopping yesterday. The trip to Joe¡¯s Pawn Shop hadn¡¯t been as fruitful as he would like, to his dismay. Several of the blades that the eponymous Joe had advertised on his cheaply made 90¡¯s era website were already sold off to some guy with an interest in Oriental weaponry. That included the one he had his eye on, the fully combat-capable katana for the low, low price of $375. He had felt like screaming his head off at the loss when the pawn store owner bluntly broke the news to him but, alas, he couldn¡¯t. People tended to frown on teenagers throwing tantrums in public and Sparky would¡¯ve gotten pissed if he embarrassed him for no reason like that. Still, it rankled him like you wouldn¡¯t believe. ¡®Glorious Nippon Steel!¡¯ had almost been within his grasp, and some filthy gaijin had snatched it away from him. He would know vengeance. He would have retribution. He had sworn it on his life! Then, Greg realized he didn¡¯t know anything about his sworn arch-enemy other than he was some kind of sword Otaku, so he decided to let the matter go. Reluctantly. Anyway, he ended up with a German bastard sword for about a hundred and thirty bucks. Despite the lack of design or anything that really made it standout, the price was a steal, especially when you considered the fact that it was a real sword.
German Bastard Sword [Windlass Steelcrafts] A combat-ready model of the German Bastard Sword. + 2 to [Swordplay: Single Blade] ability + 15% [Bleeding] damage + 5 to [Parry] ability Durability: 99%
The price had been originally higher, with Joe selling it for somewhere around three-hundred but for some reason, upon Greg identifying it as German, the dark-skinned man had given him a long, careful look and decided to change his tune, dropping the price by more than half. Greg wasn¡¯t sure why, really, but he wasn¡¯t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Sure, it wasn¡¯t what he wanted but ¡®Glorious German Engineering!¡¯ was almost as good as Nippon steel, right? Right? Anyway, he had swung it around a few times the day before, earning an ability from using the large weapon. That had been an expected occurrence, of course, but Greg couldn¡¯t deny the slight rush he felt at gaining something new. Something to level¡­ It was like opening a new gift under the tree. It really was. Regardless of how good that moment had felt, now wasn¡¯t the time to reminisce. No, now was the time for leveling. "Equip: Bastard Sword!¡± The words flew from his mouth with practiced ease as three pounds of steel appeared in Greg¡¯s right hand, his arm not dipping a single inch despite the weight of the hand-and-a-half weapon. Moving his arm over to his chest, he held the large blade straight up, flashing himself a grin as he spotted his reflection in the shiny blade. ¡°Oh ho ho ho, you may not be Japanese but I love you all the same, you big shiny metal stabby thingy.¡± His gaze moved to Sparky, his friend once again wide-eyed with shock most likely at the nonchalant way Greg swung the piece of steel around. Oh, Greg loved that look. Sadly, as quickly as it appeared on Sparky¡¯s face, the look of surprise was replaced with a frown, the long-haired teen¡¯s eyes drooping disdainfully. ¡°I¡¯d tell you not to cut yourself but I feel like for you... that¡¯d just be a plus.¡± Greg stuck his tongue out. ¡°You know it.¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 1¡ú3 Blunt Force Resistance Level Up! 29¡ú30 Stamina Level Up! 8¡ú9 Weapon Charge Level Up! 1¡ú5 You have gained 1 STR You have gained 1 VIT
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 710/16350
Health 420/420
Mana 210/210
Willpower 177/177
STR 41 SPD 26 (+2)
VIT 25 INT 29
WIS 12(-80%) CHA 17(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $68.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 4 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 15 meters. (100 mph) Cost: 12 mp per second of sustained use Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Observe Lv 4 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 18 (XP: 55%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 15%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 5 seconds. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 13 (XP: 25%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 6 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 5 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Breath-Holding Lv 6 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 9 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 8 (XP: 50%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 29 (XP: 65%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 5 (XP: 35%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 8 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. Taunt Lv 6 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: Knight In Plastic Armor Cutscene: Knight In Plastic Armor ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Thursday, April 7th, 2011 "... But seriously, holy crap on a cracker." "Mmhmm." "Sparky..." "I know, right?" Sparky raised a hand to his brow, slowly wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag that was far too stained to merely be called dirty. Ignoring the streaks of black and brown the dishcloth left behind on his face, he dropped his hands to his hips and nodded his head. "Looks good, don''t it?" "No, no, nononono," Greg turned to face Sparky, his palms against his cheeks in a perfect imitation of Kevin McAllister. As shocked as he was, the grin on his face was wide enough to strain his cheeks, his teeth on full display. "This¡­ how, Sparky?" The two of them stood in Sparky''s basement, bright lamps lighting up the dimly lit area as they both stared on the items Sparky had laid out on top of his ping-pong table. It had been a while since the two had met up, with Greg having left Brockton with his mom as soon as school had let out for Spring Break, and Sparky deciding to use his newly freed schedule to catch up on band practice. To make a long story short, Hershey Park wasn''t as fun as Greg remembered. His mother enjoyed herself and they got to spend some time together but overall, Greg found himself growing slightly more irritated the first few days he was stuck in Pennsylvania. Not getting anywhere, his active skills - barring Observe, of course - remained stuck at where they were, especially when they were still so low¡­ It was like having an itch he couldn''t scratch inside his own head, almost maddening. It had actually gotten so bad that his mom thought he was sick or something, what with how often he had been sweating and his eyes darting up and around constantly as he hoped for a relevant blue screen to appear in his field of vision. After two and a half days of that insanity, Greg had found out that some of that stress was alleviated by constantly throwing himself into certain activities with his mother, e.g., waking her up early to go for runs around the resort and then spending the rest of the day swimming, go-kart racing, laser tag, and something his dad had always tried to get him to do, the batting cages. Unexpectedly, it was a lot more fun and far less stressful with his mom cheering him on than with his dad there, just waiting for him to screw up so he could say something. Either way, the rest of his stress had eased away when he started gaining levels from these activities, the continual rising of his abilities letting him calm down. His mom was more than a bit surprised, though, when Greg turned down roller-coasters, buffets and chocolate tastings for repeated day of sports and physical activity, before simply shrugging and joining him with a smile. He knew that she was simply brushing it off as him growing up. Greg didn''t even think about correcting her, the idea of telling her about his powers let alone trying to explain them too ludicrous to even think about. (+ 7 to Breath-Holding, +2 to Blunt Force Resistance, + 4 to Driving Skill, + 3 to Gunplay: Rifles, + 5 to Blunt Weaponry, +4 to Observe, + 3 to Reflexes, + 2 to Stamina, +7 VIT, +3 STR, +2 SPD) Now that he was back in the bay, though, Greg was ready to dive into some serious shonen style training, the idea of actually getting somewhere with his powers far too appealing to pass up. However, when he had shown up to Sparky''s house with his inventory ready with everything they would need for another day of skill grinding - plus some snacks, of course -, Sparky had shut him down quick, declining his offer. After Greg had whined repeatedly, asking his friend why over and over until the long-haired teen''s eyes was twitching, Sparky relented somewhat, telling Greg he''d explain why if he "would just shut up already!" With that, Greg lead Sparky into his house, the blond spending an obligatory couple of minutes saying hi to Sparky''s mom and making awkward small talk before his friend dragged him down to the basement. That''s when Greg saw what Sparky had been working on, immediately pausing on the stairs to bask in the amazing-ness that was in front of him. Of course, Sparky then pushed him down those same stairs but Greg didn''t really mind that much, simply jumping to his feet to continue enjoying the beauty that was presented to him.
Fate/Prototype: Saber Costume (Home-Made) Sewn, glued and stapled together by your best friend Sparky with hours of his own personal time out of a desire to have you look your best. Despite being made from parts of other Halloween costumes and sports equipment, this costume still somehow gives off a somewhat regal appearance. +10% Damage Reduction +5 to all [Swordplay] abilities +2 to STR +2 to SPD +2 to VIT +10 to CHA
Greg knew the materials that had gone into it. He had paid for them, after all. Pieces of silver-colored plastic armor from a knight costume they had picked up from a party supply store, some white hockey pads, blue fabric, silver spray paint, a couple of stencils, white sneakers and a blue striped hoodie from the thrift store by the Docks. All of that had gone into making this awesome costume that looked far better than what a hundred and seventy bucks worth of materials should have made. The idea that Sparky had spent who knows how long on a costume that he didn''t even know would give him any bonuses¡­ well, that was just awesome. He even put in a couple belts. Whipping around, Greg grabbed Sparky without warning, the teen letting out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squawk of surprise and pulled his friend into a tight hug. "Dude, I can''t believe this! You spent all your time making this for me?" "Mmm¡­" Sparky let out a slight groan as he tried to fight Greg''s hug slightly, his struggle getting him nowhere. "I slept nineteen hours yesterday, so I don''t know where you''re getting this ''all your time'' BS from." "I''m serious, Sparks," Greg said with a laugh. "You ever need anything, I got your back¡­ like a chiropractor." "Shut up forever." Sparky''s nonchalant rebuttal didn''t even faze Greg, his grip slightly tightening. "I don''t think I say this enough," he sniffed, "but I love you, man." Wrapped in quite literally the tightest hug of his life, Sparky rolled his eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. "First, you say that almost every other time we hang out. Second," his lips quirked up into a kind smile over Greg''s shoulder, "...gay." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "And your parents just," Greg gestured toward the costume on the ping-pong table, "... didn''t say anything about this?" "Mom was busy sculpting the whole week," Sparky replied with a roll of his eyes, "and I just told Dad that it was for a convention that was coming to Brockton in a couple weeks." Greg nodded at his friend''s words, eyes once again locked on the costume. "Still can''t believe you made it so well." According to Sparky, his mom had always tried to get him into art stuff but the only things he really had a heart for was music and making clothes, a far cry from his mother''s favorites of painting and sculpting. Still, she encouraged him anyway. "Eh." "No, it''s awesome, seriously," the blonde said with a wide grin. "It''s all in one piece too." Sparky turned to face him. "Okay, and?" "Nononono, you don''t get it," Greg said, eyes wide. He grabbed hold of the costume on the table, holding it up to the light. "I observedthe costume. It''s all in one piece." Sparky raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly as if to create some distance between him and the almost physical force that was Greg''s excitement right now. "Okay," he replied, drawing out the last syllable for a second longer than normal, "...and?" The blond grinned. "It''s all in one piece." Sparky gave his friend a tight smile, the bags under his eyes somehow sapping most of the warmth from his expression. "Which means?" "This. [Equip: Saber Costume]." The costume held aloft in Greg''s hands began to dissolve into motes of blue light, similar to his mana glitter, and flew over to his body as they began surrounding the blond in a haze of blue. With a flash of blue light, Greg stood there fully dressed up, the costume fitted better than any professional could have achieved. "I can equip it all at once."
Perk Gained! Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
"Nice." "What?" "Nothing, really," Greg replied with a grin. "New perk. Lets me put on clothes quicker." "Mmm, dope." Greg wasn''t exactly sure what that meant but as it was accompanied by a raising and lowering of Sparky''s eyebrows, it was either somewhat sarcastic or uncaring. Either way, Sparky turned his back to Greg, walking around the basement to pick up all the materials he had used to make the costume over the last few days. "I''m already making a second one, by the way. Should be quicker cause I already know what to do. Might make a couple more, just in case." After a moment''s pause and a tilt of his head, Sparky spoke up again. "Honestly, that looks a lot better on you than I expected it would. It looked kinda meh before." Greg grinned, offering his friend a thumbs-up. "Thanks, bro!" Sparky grunted again, bending over to pick up a length of soft, blue-looking cloth. Glancing back down at the perfectly-fitted costume that he now wore, Greg thought back to the bonuses the suit offered, already feeling the bonuses it offered. "Wish those stat bonuses could work for other people," he muttered aloud. "Hmm?" Sparky raised his head from the table at the far end of the basement, one end of a tape measure between his teeth. "Well," Greg gestured, "if my stat bonuses worked for other people, I could get some awesome gear for you and we could be partners but... the bonuses only work for me, you know." "Even if I would agree to that¡­ and I wouldn''t¡­ partners in what?" "Hero stuff." "Hero?" Sparky blinked, tilting his head to give Greg an inquisitive stare. "You''re not a hero, you know that, right?" "Yeah, I am," Greg replied, obviously confused. "I mean, I haven''t saved any lives yet, but I''ve stopped criminals." "Nah, brah. You beat up some Merchants who weren''t committing a crime and you fought a Ward." Sparky clicked his tongue and shot Greg a slightly mocking smile. "You''re not even a Rogue at this point. You''re basically a villain." "Bu-" "The whole point of this costume," Sparky said slowly, finger held up, "is so that nobody can match you to everything you did before." Greg opened his mouth as the reality of what Sparky had said hit him like a hunk of bricks. "...shit." "Eh, it''ll get better," Sparky smirked. "Least you look like a hero now. Shiny knight and all that BS." After a moment, he blinked and shot Greg an odd look, lips pursed. "I can''t believe that I''m asking this, but do you not have a cape name yet?" "Good question¡­" Greg shrugged, raising his eyebrows as he stared back. Have I really not picked a name yet? It''s been forever almost. "Huh, guess I don''t. You''d think that''d be item number one on my list of things to do, right?" "Yeah, totally, whatever¡­" Sparky replied with a roll of his eyes. "Just make one up then." "I can''t just do that, Sparks," Greg replied with a slight whine in his voice. "You know how many capes are out there? I''ll have to spend forever on PHO looking for one." Sparky shrugged his shoulders. "Go use my computer in my room, then. I''ll be down here for a bit." He let out another sigh gesturing around the basement cluttered with fabric, silver costume armor and other miscellaneous items Greg could tell had gone into the costume on his body. "Gotta¡­ finish cleaning up all of this." With a grin, Greg gave his friend a thumbs-up. "Thanks, Sparks!" As Greg turned to run up the stairs, Sparky shouted behind him, "Don''t forget to take off the costume, genius!" "Got it!" Quickly shifting back to his normal clothes in a flash of light, Greg ran up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. Sparky sighed again, slumping his shoulders as he stared at the mess around him that he guessed would take him the better part of an hour to finish arranging. "Ughhh¡­ could have offered to help, you know." Picking a name hadn''t honestly taken all that long. In fact, he was easily able to pluck a name from PHO''s wiki of available cape names within fifteen minutes. His name had actually come from a minor Hero from California who had died in the last Behemoth attack, some low-level Trump with a super flashy costume. The name by itself, while not exactly a perfect match for the way he saw his powerset, was still pretty dang badass. As appropriate for someone of his innate badass nature, it hinted at power while not being a bragging douche about it. Unlike Legend or Dauntless, he didn''t feel the need to brag about himself. Not to say he didn''t want to, of course. Either way, with his name picked, Greg had decided to spend the rest of his time messing around on PHO, specifically trying to see if he could get back into the PHO spirit. It had been a while since he had been on it. The only friend he had on there, GStringGirl, had probably been wondering where he''d been, especially considering his ban had been up for a while. Seeing as she wasn''t online right now, Greg simply began to scroll the forums, drink in hand, only stopping when he saw a few threads that seemed to concern him. Two threads, in particular.
¡ö Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards. You are currently logged in, XxVoid_CowboyxX You are viewing: ? Threads you have replied to ? AND Threads that have new replies ? OR private message conversations with new replies ? Thread OP is displayed. ? Ten posts per page ? Last ten messages in private message history. ? Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically. ¡ö ? Topic: Shadow Stalker Benched In: Boards ? Places ? America ? Brockton Bay ? Teams ? Wards Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) Posted On Apr 3rd 2011: Since a bunch of people were making about five different threads simply based off of rumors of last night, I decided to post a single one to explain everything that the PRT has confirmed related to Shadow Stalker. Apparently, our friendly neighborhood night-crawler has been temporarily grounded by the PRT higher-ups. Why? Two reasons. One, it seems that she went out to patrol on her own, which is against Wards protocol and Two, she decided to fight a new cape without backup and got taken down. Luckily, she''s perfectly all right, the cape for some reason being willing to let her go without hurting her seriously apart for some minor bruises and potentially wounded pride. Despite the fact that her injuries are minor, her costume was rendered "unusable" somehow. I doubt any of this would be public knowledge if it wasn''t for the fact that whatever the cape did to Shadow Stalker during their fight prevented her from using her powers well and she ended up hurting herself trying to get away, requiring her to call in backup after the fight. The PRT has not acknowledged the cape who fought Shadow Stalker as a potential villain, given they do not have an explicit confirmation of his identity at this point, other than reports from Shadow Stalker. However, from what I''ve heard, he was young, about Wards-age, dressed in black and red, and might potentially be a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. So, anyone have any thoughts? Mod Edit: Suspected footage of this new cape has been provided by several users. Continue to use this thread for discussion about Shadow Stalker. For anything about the individual cape and the suspected footage, go here. (Showing page 16 of 22) ?KingofCaffene Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Shadow Stalker got her butt whooped? You''d think with her powers, she could avoid any serious attacks on her person. Lame. ?Duke_L Replied On Apr 6th 2011: More people going to the fucking Empire. The hell is wrong with this city? Do all the racists live here or what? ?Battle Jacket Replied On Apr 6th 2011: I''ve never liked SS anyway. She seems way too stuck up for someone whose powers are just based on running away and avoiding hits. Maybe she''ll learn something from this. ?AngryBlueBoy (Cape Groupie) Replied On Apr 6th 2011: @Battle Jacket: Wow, big talk. What powers do you have again? Shadow Stalker helps out this city. What do you do? STFU ?PocketMan Replied On Apr 6th 2011: I have footage of a new cape. Saw them jumping off a rooftop near Dowtown around 2 AM. Could be the guy. Video is here. ?Fedorable Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Does anyone actually give two shits about Shadow Stalker getting knocked around a bit? She''s like the least liked Ward. ?AngryBlueBoy (Cape Groupie) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Fedorable: Least liked or not, she''s still a fucking Ward. As in, she fights criminals so that jerks like you are safe. Have some fucking respect. ?DarkPast46 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Sigh, this thread is already on the highway to lockdown ain''t it? And void cowboy ain''t even here, ya''ll should be ashamed. ?DeviantJokester Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Yes! Another brother for the cause, soon we will rise and purge Brockton Bay of its lessers. For the Empire! ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: I don''t think that guy was a villain. Would a villain let SS go? I mean, everyone knows she has a chip on her shoulder. Who''s to say that SS didn''t overreact or something? End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 ... 20, 21, 22 (Showing page 17 of 22) ?CasualGnome Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Oh my god, he''s back. I thought he was gone for good. ?IceIceBaby Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Void Cowboy back at it again with the nuclear takes. ?SonofBosuke Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Shut up. Seriously, first day back and you''re playing devil''s advocate for the Empire? ?Fedorable Replied On Apr 7th 2011: He''s back? It''s been like a whole month. @XxVoid_CowboyxX: What? Are you defending Nazis now? Talk about trash. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @CasualGnome: What? can''t u read? Its called a TEMP BAN, dummy. TEMP as in temporary. And duh, im back ?AngryBlueBoy (Cape Groupie) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Shadow Stalker called him a Nazi. That''s good enough for me. Why don''t you crawl back under your bridge for another month? ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Okay, Shadow Stalker got a couple bruises and the cape let her get away without even running after her or anything. No proof he''s a Nazi like you chucklefucks wanna claim. ?Jean Arkos Replied On Apr 7th 2011: You can always count on XxVoid_CowboyxX to say some nonsense to derail a thread. ?KameRyu Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Look, SS said he was a Nazi. That''s good enough for me. Maybe, I dunno, don''t defend Nazis. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Relax, you dopes. I''m just saying that even the PRT hasn''t said anything about him. You can''t just call someone a Nazi without proof. End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (Showing page 18 of 22) ?Semi-Auto-Mage Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Welp, just what we needed here in Brockton Bay. Yet another damn Nazi targeting non-white heroes. ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @DeviantJokester: ...Are you trying to get banned? ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 7th 2011: So wannabe Batman got beaten up by a Nazi? fucking dammit and it was a new guy too. Why can''t we get a frikin normal cape in this city instead of a bunch of psychopaths? Anyway, I wonder what the dudes in the VS threads are going to say about this, SS fanboys are going to ggo apeshit about this. @DeviantJokester: Dude, didn''t you get a ban last time for this shit? ?DeviantJokester Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @ThunderThunder: That is but a small sacrifice. I would gladly give up my life for the betterment of my people! ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: lol there''s goes the neighbourhood. how many of those aryan freaks are joining the empire? didn''t whats his face join just a few months back and they have a new one? no wonder BB is going to shit, PRT do yer god damn job! ?LazEye Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Id herd the Merch4ntz got a new cape. ?RebelRadio Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @LazEye: Yeah just like you heard last week Purity and Circus when off together to start a traveling circus with a killer light show. What are you even on man? ?Nyarrl Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Dammit not another one, especially one whose debut is beating the hell outta ''Stalker. More shit that the ''Bay needs. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @DeviantJokester: Fucking Nazis... @ThunderThunder: As usual, he probably is. @Flash15: When you¡¯re outnumber by the enemy, it¡¯s kinda hard to do anything effective. Especially when any move can upset Anger Dragon who leads the Asians. @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Shadow Stalker said the cape is Empire, or rather is guessing he is. I¡¯m just going to assume she¡¯s biased as she got beat up my a potential Villain that¡¯s white, and therefore is being racist and assuming he¡¯s a Nazi. She could be right, but not every white is a Nazi, even if they¡¯re a Villainous Cape, and beat up a black hero. They could just be a normal villain interrupted by her. ?Semi-Auto-Mage Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Listen kiddo, even if he ain''t a nazi. He still beat up a black, underage HERO. Doesn''t matter to me if it turns out he isn''t related to the Empire, he should still be locked up. Hell, I¡¯m starting to think you might be this cape considering you¡¯re trying so hard to play devil¡¯s advocate here End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (Showing page 19 of 22) ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: void is the new nazi cape? nah, the dude doesnt seem to have the balls to go out and attack homeless black people let alone miss stalker. ?DarkPast46 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Flash15: Void cowboy being a cape? Let alone one that could actually harm another cape? God, thats the funniest thing I''ve heard all year, have an internet cookie, you deserve it. ?VictoriousDictator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Why would you trust the PRT at all? I don''t trust them to successfully pick their own noses. ?Benji3K Replied On Apr 7th 2011: So what is the Over/Under for them being a Nazi? ?BleedingEarth Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Well, we all know she''s pretty skilled, he must be pretty impressive to beat her before they''re even known! Sucks that the E88 has another strong cape. ?Professional Lurker Replied On Apr 7th 2011: I think that what we have is a case of I was attacked PLEASE SOMEONE BEAT THIS GUY UP! even though she probably started and deserved it. ?DesTiny Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Friendly reminder that speculation about a cape''s identity, even an absurd speculation like [REDACTED] being the cape, is probably going to get y''all warned, or worse, expelled. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @SemiAutoMage: We have no knowledge of the situation beyond SS and him came into conflict. For all we know, SS attacked first. Just because they¡¯re heroes doesn¡¯t mean they''re infallible. Even heroes can commit sins. Some people are just doing what it takes to survive in this hellhole @Flash15: That¡¯s a gigantic leap in logic. Also, a summoning if the mods for even trying to attempt to guess a Capes identity. Much less trying to say Void¡¯s the cape. @DarkPast46: It is indeed relatively amusing. @VictoriousDictator: Because the PRT is rather effective, the issue just happens to be we see more of the negatives of them on here. There¡¯s hundreds of positive and beneficial things they do daily. ?DarkPast46 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Undying: Trust me, he''s just trying to lull you into thinking he''s not one of the worst trolls to ever troll the pho forums, I''ve seen it all before, it''s only a manner of time until he starts his antics. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @DarkPast46: Eat a bagguette of dicks, whydoncha? End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (Showing page 20 of 22) ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 7th 2011: And like always, @Magni Imitator is being the voice of reasons and ruining my fun. **sighs** Anyway, wonder when the PRT will give more data, it is something pretty serious after all. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Hey, at least the new cape has balls. He went after the one ward willing to fight back instead of radio in for help Flash15: Save it for the tinfoil hat thread. Though the mongrel defending the cape is probably more proof to them being a villian than attacking stalker is ?BleedingEarth Replied On Apr 7th 2011: DarkPast46: I don''t know, if you''ve been around long enough you might have noticed he occasionally says something pretty insightful. It''s just buried under a few tons of random nonsense. ?VictoriousDictator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: Half of our city is ruled over by criminals. How do you call this effective! ?Semi-Auto-Mage Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: I suppose you''re correct. But why doesn''t the cape just come out and clear things up? If he''s certain he did no wrong, he should be willing to make a statement explaining his actions. It doesn''t necessarily have to be in a PRT holding cell, he could probably just give an interview to some random reporter. ?HeavyBreathing Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Good. SS is a fukin syko and she wuz a bitch to my kid sister at a thing at the mall. She just asked 4 a pic. Hope that syko vigilinty bitch gets her tits beet in. ?WaifuLord Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Dude, stop being a bore. Nothing wrong with speculation. And, please don''t be a nazi, please don''t be a nazi, the ABB doesn''t need more enemies ?DarkPast46 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @BleedingEarth: I value my eyes and my brain too much to go and look closely at the nonsense void spews, I tried once, Never Again. ?VictoriousDictator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Am I the only one who sees a problem with depending on a bunch of freaks in drag to solve our problems? We should have something more effective, like the Yangban in China. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Can we plz get bck on topic? This is NOT A THREAD ABOUT VOID COWBOY!!! VOID COWBOY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH A NEW CAPE IN TOWN. I swear, he doens''t even do anything wrong and he throws the thread off. Why isnt this guy perma banned yet? End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (Showing page 21 of 22) ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: Fuk u too ?Neck Deep (Innocent Bystander) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Its 3am, do you know where your Ward is? Well I guess we know where Shadow Stalker was. The question in is why? Aren''t wards supposed to be on patrols? I always see Clockblocker and Vista in my neighborhood, great kids. Always in pairs. If my little sis gets powers, is this going to happen to her? I''ve seen her browser history, keeps wanting to find ways to get powers. Damn it, as if being a model wasn''t bad enough. What if she actually gets powers? It happens a lot round here. ?Croissant Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Heh, its kind of expected isn''t it? Shadow Pucker is always throwing her weight around beating up any two bit villain who looks at her funny. Or at least thats what PRT wants you to think. My cousin Vinny runs a chinese-itallian fusion bar on 79th and main, and gets shaken down by both ABB and Empire regularly. You know what happens? He finally defends himself against those goons and gets arrested by little duck duck duck edgelord here for gang violence after the E88 get away. They got away! Sure the arrest doesn''t pan out and Vinny is released, free and clear, but now he''s a marked man. E88 hate him even more the racists pricks and the ABB want him for trying to start a war with E88. His restaraunt was burnt down last week by the dragonman himself. All because Shadow Pucker here didn''t do something earlier, and when she did do something, she arrested an innocent man. So to hell with it. My two cents says its Shadows Stalker fault and she deserved worse than she got. Fucking capes. ?l0ver Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Shit man, Staker got beat? Damn.Good thing we gots Panacea here in the bay. She''ll patch up Stalks right as rain. Any know where I can send her flowers? ?White Lightning (Concerned Citizen) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @l0ver: Dude, quit slobbering of that piece of cape. Its disgusting. Also do we have a name for the new Empire recruit? I haven''t heard anything about him through the grapevine. Must be real new and got real norse in him. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @White Lightning: I vote Shadow Stalker Stalker. Its fitting right? ?Arsenal Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @DeviantJokester: "Your people" are heterosexual caucasians, the powerful majority on a huge percentage of the planet. Several countries of them went on intercontinental conquests, subjugating dozens of other enthicities across the planet. The don''t beed betterment, especially not here. If you want to fight for it, get off your reclining lounge chair, get away from use, and go to asia. Maybe the vhange in scenery will teach you an important lesson. ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Guys, this isn''t a thread to shit on SS or the Void Idiot nor to discuss about the rights of white people, please shut up before a mod decides to squash us. ?Brilliger (Moderator: Protectorate Main) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Alright, shutting this down here. Get back on topic. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Any speculations on the Shadow Stalker Stalker''s (using this name until a better one comes) powers? I''m thinking Blaster or Shaker due to being able to hurt Stalker. Maybe a Trump? If they could steal powers, or even copy them, SS would be fuckeddddd End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 19, 20, 21 (Showing page 22 of 22) ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Yeesh, black AND red? No wonder Shadow Stalker got hurt, I can feel the edge all the way over here! ?BearEnthusiast Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Doesn''t the Empire tend to try and show off it''s capes? I''m surprised that they haven''t done something big like they usually do to introduce their new guy (ya know, if he''s there''s) to the public at large like they did with Rune here. ?Lark21 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: So that derailed hard. Startling of lack faith in our little hero. I mean she''s a bit intense but her heart has to be in the right place. I can''t imagine it not being after traveling out to that Behemoth fight. This is probably just a big misunderstanding. We havent heard anything from Kaiser on an an ounce mentioned. It''s probably just some new trigger or an out of towner who didn''t realize his colors would be fronting for the Empire and or who didn''t rec Shadow Stalker. She can be imposing like tiny Library of Alexandria. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Lark21: Eh, humanity always unites against a greater threat. As evidenced by World War Two. Just because you fought an Endbringer doesn''t mean you''re a good person, or possess as you said "a heart in the right place". Otherwise all those villains who fight them, are heroes as well, despite the crimes the commit. End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 20, 21, 22 ¡ö
Frowning, Greg leaned away from Sparky''s computer and took a big gulp of the drink in his hand, frown only increasing as the burn hit his throat. He didn''t even get why people on PHO hated him so much. He was no worse than half of the people on there. In fact, he was damn sure he was better than half of the people on there, considering actual gang members and supervillains used the goddamn forum. Sure, Greg admitted to himself, he had made some off-color references and a few jokes in the aftermath of Endbringer attacks. He had, at one point in the aftermath of a Leviathan attack, made a joke about how the one time a Kaiju actually came to Japan, they got their shit kicked in far worse than what a Little Boy or a Fat Man could pull off. And maybe, just maybe, he had asked around to see if anyone had any Glory Girl upskirt shots. Was that so wrong? Although, that was probably the tipping point for his last ban, now that he thought about it. Taking another swig from the bottle, Greg placed it down on the table and leaned forward again, deciding to go to the second thread that had caught his attention.
¡ö Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards. You are currently logged in, XxVoid_CowboyxX You are viewing: ? Threads you have replied to ? AND Threads that have new replies ? OR private message conversations with new replies ? Thread OP is displayed. ? Ten posts per page ? Last ten messages in private message history. ? Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically. ¡ö ? Topic: New Cape Spotted Downtown In: Boards ? Places ? America ? Brockton Bay PocketMan (Original Poster) Posted On Apr 6th 2011: I was chilling outside on my balcony last week smoking a cig when I saw this weird looking guy down in an alley cross the street from my building. He was all dressed in black and a little bit of red so I was like, "weird." I thought some criminal BS was about to go down so I pulled out my phone and started recording just in case. All of a sudden. this guy was just bouncing off the alley walls like a freaking pinball. Then, he just like stuck to the wall with his hands glowing blue and then he just crawled up the wall. Crazy, right? We got a new cape in the city. Like, how many more are we gonna get? So, yeah, here¡¯s the footage. Mod Edit: There have been suspicions that this cape is the same one that was purported to have fought Shadow Stalker last week. While this has not been verified, their costume and appearance seem to match the video record that have been submitted here, here, here, and here. For accurate information specifically relating to the Shadow Stalker incident, please go here. (Showing page 2 of 9) A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Black and Red? Are we getting Sppider man or Spider-nazi? I''ve hearn in another thread (link here) that SS got her shit beaten up by some new dude and this one here, with those colors. Um... Gotta say, I wasn''t expecting something so common, new capes in this city tend to go to the weirder side, like probability control or some such shit. Also, has anyone seen Void_Cowboy? Dude''s ban has been over for a few weeks but I haven''t seen him since. ?Nyarrl Replied On Apr 6th 2011: @HeatDeath: No, aaaaannnd I am kinda getting worried. *eyes narrow in suspicion* What is he up to? Edit: Nevermind.... ?BleedingEarth Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Sounds like a mover. And red and black? Is this the new E88 member that fought Shadow Stalker? ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 6th 2011: A new cape in downton? we might be looking at new merchant cape boys and lookng at it seems like the alleyways are going to be less safe. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Hmm they prob arent the same one that attacked Stalker. They''re prob a blaster or shaker (hurt Stalker in her breaker state) and this guy is a clear mover. But if not, what about Cape Names for this guy? I''m thinking Shadow Stalker Stalker ?Arsenal Replied On Apr 6th 2011: @HeatDeath: We might have a new nazi, but if we''re luvky, then maybe he hit void_cowboy, thus kicking off a moral discussion of whether he is a villain, or the worlds greatest hero. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Any speculations on the Shadow Stalker Stalker''s (using this name until a better one comes) powers? I''m thinking Blaster or Shaker due to being able to hurt Stalker. Maybe a Trump? If they could steal powers, or even copy them, SS would be fuckeddddd ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 6th 2011: So... beyond my Spiderman joke, what do you think this new cape''s power is? super agility? variable mass? a Uber style dude? Or maybe he is just a nutjob that thinks he is cape? I''be heard of quite a few lately. ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 6th 2011: @HeatDeath: The fuck is Spiderman? Also, Yeesh, black AND red? No wonder Shadow Stalker got hurt, I can feel the edge all the way over here! ?BearEnthusiast Replied On Apr 6th 2011: Red''s also a color of the ABB isn''t it? If this was a night and the guy was wearing a darker green that could be mistaken for black maybe he''s part of the ABB rather than what a bunch of people are saying and is a Nazi. Like it''s still bad but it''s not Nazi bad. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 3 of 9) ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 6th 2011: @BearEnthusiast: Or, oh, I don''t know, the new Mover ISN''T evil? This is part of the problem. A new teenage indie reads stuff like this, or runs into a hardass PRT guy, and suddenly they go from amiable to evil ?BleedingEarth Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Well, I''d certainly like to be wrong about him being that new E88 member. Perhaps I''ve grown too jaded living here. ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 7th 2011: I''m going to assume it''s a low Brute/Mover Tier Cape, as he wasn''t taken out by the known weaponry of SS which is a Crossbow which likely fires tranq darts. So he either tanked them or was capable of dodging them, meaning SS had to move in and engage in CQC/H2H. From there, he either kept tanking hits or dodging them until the ones he landed on her injured/tired her out/knocked her out and he left. ?Lee Stan (Not Stan Lee) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: I think I saw this guy land on my balcony. Woke up Mr Foofoo and that got the rest of the dogs barking. I swear to you, he was screaming Parkour like a madman. Someone tell this moron the Parkour is a state of being not something you yell out when feel like you''re fancy. Also thinks he''s spiderman. Only in Brockton. ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Seriously, the fuck is Spiderman? ?Leet (Verified Cape) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Kid''s got balls waking up the entire neighborhood like that. If he ain''t careful someone is going to Vikare him, or he''ll slip off a loose roof tile. From past experience, both are painful and both are stupid. Moral of the story, don''t go rooftop running when you are high off a tinker super serum. Never a good idea. ?Dawn Lawson (PRT Official) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: The PRT would like to note that all property damage attributed to the Cape currently temporary identified as Parkour, should be brought to the Legal Department of ENE PRT on the second floor. Photographic evidence, and insurance estimates are welcome. Edit: Seriously Leet? ?Mr Camera Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Hey look what I found here. Red and black dude (Edit: Parkour) faceplanting in the street. Dude got rekt! ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Welp. Guess that confirms that the new cape who beat up SS is Empire. Seriously? Of course they went Empire! They couldn''t have gone Merchants, where they would at least be high off their ass so they didnt do anything? ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Mr Camera: lol is that real? Prob not a Mover then... End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ... 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 4 of 9) ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Leet: Dude, you got your shit kicked in by some random gang mooks during your last stream, you can''t criticize ever again. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: Could be a Brute. Could be a Brute and Mover, which means lower tier Trump. But yeah, we don''t know they''re evil. @Leet: So, I''m pretty sure the Merchants might be approaching you now... try to sell them the stuff that blows up. @ThunderThunder: Red and Black aren''t monopolized by the Empire... Besides, wouldn''t we have heard from one of their Capes by now about a new one? They usually initiation things that are attention getting for new capes. @Dawn Lawson: Oh, so that''s the name... Seems they''re going with a Mover estimate for power. ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: Well they''re not wearing other gang colors, and if they''re an independent surely they can''t be that dumb as to wear red and black? That screams Empire. ?Lark21 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: The prat falls make being empire less likely not more. If he was with Kaiser we''d be hearing about him in the aftermath of some kinda rally or him showing their flag with a party of hoodlums. ?Mr Camera Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: I feel you man, but he''s gotta have healing factor survive that. His ego gotta have a brute package too. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: So, thoughts on Parkour and SSS being the same person? After reviewing my info, I think they are. A Mover or Thinker ability for the parkour stuff, and a Brute or Striker or Trump ability for the beating of SS. Prob not Empire, since Kaiser hasn''t claimed em yet. With Occam''s Razor taken into play, it''s most likely a Mover 2 Brute 2; they''re able to avoid crossbow bolts, and take down an unenhanced human with one hit. ?Dawn Lawson (PRT Official) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: Its is the stance and policy of the PRT to never release the statistical threat analysis of any cape. The leaking of our assessment document to the public, while regrettable was still illegal. To use it in this fashion does a disservice to the men and women who have come to rely upon it to safe guard themselves and those they are sworn to protect. That said, the name was chosen due to this parahuman''s propensity for shouting Parkour at the top of their lungs. Parkour seemed to be the best available to us at this time as the rest of the samples we have them are not fitting as an Identifier. ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Do you guys think capes ever take on a second secret identity? Like, what if this new guy isn''t new at all? I''m placing my bets on Legend, personally. Think about it! He goes out in costume and everyone runs away! He probably misses the old days when he was some no-name that got to punch dudes in the face. Powerful as he is, those days were probably over too soon. So now, here he is, hopping around, sandbagging, and punching fools. Hell, what if Legend is New Wave? Like, all of New Wave? At once? I know some members of New Wave are women, and many have been seen in one place at the same time, but all I''m saying is, Legend''s lasers can do some ridiculous things already. Maybe Legend is like a "By all your powers combined" kind of thing, and that''s why no one goes after New Wave anymore? They just gather in for a group hug, melt together and turn into a sparkling magical gay man? ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @The_Number_Eleven: That''s a pretty good possibility. Here I thought Legend was just a cannibal. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Legend is also Purity btw. He pretends to fight himself to make his LAdy Photon identity more legit. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 5 of 9) ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @The_Number_Eleven: Okay... so you''re either on drugs, or Void Cowboy level crackpot. I can''t decide what''s worse. But yes, it''s likely some Capes take on yet another secret identity. I mean, there''s enough off them that it''s happened at least once. Though I doubt it would be Legend, he has no reason to even be here. Edit: Void''s here. Hooray @Dawn Lawson: "Its is the stance of the PRT policy to never release the statistical threat analysis of any cape." Are you positive on that one? Guess all those Kill-Orders with the statistical analysis of the Cape right beside it mean you guys have been conducting illegal acts. Also, utilize it in what fashion? Inform us civilians, so we might better comprehend what threat we ourselves have hanging over us? Make us more aware of what we face? Don''t forget you PRT have changed your own Threat Analysis multiple times because of us, and the insight we''ve come up with before. Our predictions and thought processes have been right before, and in doing so, better enabled you. @Gil the Original King: You''re high or Void Cowboys relative. Still can''t decide what''s worse. ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: I should have known! The fact that it doesn''t make any sense at first glance is all the proof I need! They''re trying to throw me off! ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Why not just name him Hardkour then? It''s clever, and takes his likely Brute rating into account. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: He''s probably the best cape ever, probably the next Eidolon or Dauntless maybe. Just speculating but I''m guessing he''s a Brute, Shaker, Mover, Trump, Striker, Stranger, Changer... A straight four (at least) across the board. Edit: Just offering a thought. ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Either Void''s taken his trolling to a different place...or he''s actually the new cape. It''s wrong that I''m even considering the second one. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Andddd He''s back. We have no evidence on him (or her, just because they completely lack any sort of curves doesn''t mean anything) being anything beyond a Thinker, Mover, Trump, Brute, Striker. Of those, it''s Mover OR Thinker, and Trump OR Brute OR Striker. Shut Up Void. ?Mr Camera Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: So what your saying is that he''s a word salad. Also you''re forgetting a few ratings like... Faceplant 12, and Master -5. Cause I just made a gif of him doing just that! ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @ThunderThunder: I think its telling that Tin Mother isn''t popping in. Your speculation on the cape''s identity is so far off she isn''t doing anyhting ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: First things first (clears throat)... eat a dick. Second, what''s wrong with speculation? Isn''t that the point of this thread? ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Mongrel, I''ll smite you. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 6 of 9) ?The_Number_Eleven Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: Whereas in my case, they''re stunned I figured it out, and worried about drawing attention to it. The Streisand effect is a thing people. Read a book. ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: cmon man the best we got is som edgy black and red kid jumping roofs all we know it could even be oni lee running away after killing som merchants or something in downtown becas the crackheads made fun of his boyfriend ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: If he''s the best cape ever, I''m the magical Fourth Endbringer that doesn''t exist. Also, if he has powers across the board, why a four? Why not five? With that many powers, one''s threat rating should be much higher... All those powers interacting and being capable of utilized by one person should jump up there threat rating even if the powers are relatively weak. @ThunderThunder: The second one is false and continues to be. Void is the one person who''d become a Cape and get his PHO tag changed to reflect that, he''s not nearly smart enough to not do so. So, it has to be trolling. Friendly reminder, even if he''s making it sound like he is a cape, speculation even like yours can result in Moderator interference and subsequent punishment. @Gil the Original King: Just because she''s not on here 24/7, doesn''t mean she''s not here 18/7. Besides that, this is usually reported which brings the awareness to her and other mods. @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Wow, "eat a dick". Void, once more showing off his astounding debating skills. Also, while speculation is the point of the thread, however Void, your speculation just goes too far and doesn''t fit in with reality. We try to speculate and keep it at least semi-realistic, not say stuff that''s utterly unbelievable. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Flash15: Oh, so Oni Lee can stick to walls now. Pull the other one. I''m just saying that when Dauntless showed up, people were saying that it was crazy to call him The Second Coming and now that''s all people are doing. Considering how easily this guy dunked on SS, he could be the Third Coming of Eidolon. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Glory Girl/Lady Photon/Laser Dream/Brandish/Purity/Shielder/Man Power/Flashbang/Crusader all being Legend was never supposed to be discovered. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: Smite me? I have Karate Chop action. Try me, you Gilgamesh lover. Saber all day. Edit: He''s like the most annoying Archer, hence the worst one. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: Well, you''re the new Void for now. @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Void, you''ve been slightly promoted. You''re not as bad. Also, fuck Gilgamesh, and fuck Saber. They both suck. Lancer and Hercules are better, but beyond that, Counter Guardian EMIYA reigns supreme. ?Leet (Verified Cape) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Dude, just reading your posts I can tell you must have a real thing for our red and black connoisseur of asphalt. I never thought I''d say this but Ladies and Gentlemen, Capes of all Nations... The Void Cowboy has a cape crush on something that doesn''t have boobs! I never thought I''d see this day. Our little troll is growing up! ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Leet: I have a girlfriend, you slime. Can''t believe I liked your show. ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: seems to reeeeallly like sucking his dick. may be void did trigger and is the new cape. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 7 of 9) ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Flash15: Maybe your Mom triggered and is Gregor the Snail ?Leet (Verified Cape) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: I''d ask for pics to prove it, but I wouldn''t want to put you on the spot between your imaginary missus and your unrequited edgelord crush. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Magni Imitator: Really, Lancer, Berseker and Edgelord EMIYA? Mr. Never-Wins-A-Fight in Blue Spandex, General Roars-A-Lot and Captain I''m-Gonna-Kill-Myself-because-Time-Travel-Works-Like-That? Really? Lame. Saber, Prototype Saber and Nero all freakin'' day. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Void, Saber doesn''t count as your girlfriend, no matter how big your body pillow is. @Specific Protagonist ?TripleDiamond Replied On Apr 7th 2011: once again find myself seriously late to the party any way I have serious doubts about mister Hardkour (Shameless snicker) being a Empire cape don''t they like have this nordic theme thing going on....then again it''s been a while since I''ve lived in the bay. I mean what happens when to edgelords meet? Total Aggro meltdown that what. ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Prototype Saber is best Saber, first one is trash and weak. Nero is them being lazy. Berserker, Lancer, and EMIYA are all loads better than the King Arthur who wishes to not be King. One of them is going to try and break the world, the other is once more raging on against fate even though he''s chained by his madness. And then we have the Irish Hercules, cursed by the fact he''s controlled by Kirei. He''s being hampered by someone who doesn''t want him to even win. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @Gil the Original King: You suck, Gilgamesh sucks, your whole family sucks. You''re just trying to ruin my good mood. I have a girlfriend. She''s a model. You''re probably the one with a Gilgamesh body pillow. ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Void, with your reputation, forgive me if I don''t believe you. ?Specific Protagonist Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Someone tagged me and someone mentioned a body pillow. I''m here. What did I miss, do we have some cute new cape on the-... oh. Red and black edgelord and a mentally deficient dorks talking cartoons, and one cape who needs to work out because his body suit can''t hold it in any more. God help me, the Bay doesn''t need another edgelord. Oh and I''m reporting you all for derailing. Next time don''t get me out of bed for anything less than an extra limb. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: You know what? Screw you guys, I got stuff to do. End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Showing page 8 of 9) ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: 10/10 clapback Void. 11/10 with rice. ?TripleDiamond Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: shhhhh.....it''s okay Rin is best Waifu! *mad cackling* ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Okay, in what universe? Tsunderes are the worst. Sakura, Saber, and Luvia are best girls. Illya gets an honorable mention because who doesn''t want a cute little murder-sister? ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Like what? Going to go and hide your Gilgamesh body pillow? Also, S.P. is right. We, uh...definitely derailed this. So. New cape. And stuff. ?XxVoid_CowboyxX Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Now, I''m gone. You can all eat dicks of various shapes and sizes. ?Leet (Verified Cape) Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Sorry don''t swing your way little man. You can troll while I can Tinker. One of these things does not look like the other. ?TripleDiamond Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: I do agree. Illya is best murder sister. ?Flash15 Replied On Apr 7th 2011: wasnt their somting about merchants dying a few day ago somwhere Hardkour is around? hope he has someting to do bout it. wood help kill some crackheads. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Hardkour - Tentative Mover 2/Brute 2 Wears a Red and Black Edgelord Supersuit Beat Shadow Stalker in a 1v1 Fight Bad at Parkour Not a Nazi Might''ve Killed Merchants Has a Fanboy Kind of an Idiot (Went Out in Public Shouting Parkour) Is Dating Shadow Stalker in their Civilian Lives Anything else we know? Edit-And yes, Ilya is certifiably the best ever. Back on topic please? End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 6, 7, 8 (Showing page 9 of 9) ?ThunderThunder Replied On Apr 7th 2011: Wait, what did I miss? Since when is he not a Nazi? ?Magni Imitator Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @XxVoid_CowboyxX: Void, you''re edging towards areas where people are going to start asking for proof and decry you for not providing it. Also, love you too. Now that he''s gone, I''m bored... messing with Void is a great past time. ?Gil the Original King Replied On Apr 7th 2011: @ThunderThunder: A few things adding up. He''s not really Nordic, he went out in public shouting Parkour, and Kaiser hasn''t put a claim out. End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 7, 8, 9 ¡ö
"Giant. Fucking, Dicks. All of you," Greg growled, directing his ire at the forum-goers on PHO. Him, a Nazi? Really. Also, fuck that Gil the Original King. Gilgamesh was a shit character, and everyone knew it. Sure, he was cool as all hell, but he was still shit. Reaching for the bottle again, Greg raised it to his lips only to pause as Sparky''s door opened, his haggard and dirt-covered friend walking in. "Hey, brah¡­" Sparky froze as he saw Greg, his eyes widening slowly. Greg lifted a hand in greeting, letting go of the computer mouse. "Sup." "Bro, are you¡­" Sparky''s jaw dropped, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looked between Greg and the object in his hand, "... don''t tell me you''re drinking hand sanitizer?" Glancing down at the bottle of Purell in his grip, Greg nodded slowly. Quickly taking another swig to the sound of Sparky''s choked protests, he placed the bottle down just as fast, a hand rising to his lips to wipe off the liquid from his mouth. "... Nigga, what the fuck?" "Oh relax, it''s just like water, really," Greg gave his friend a slightly sheepish grin. "... Really, brah?" Sparky was clearly unconvinced, what with the way his fingers seemed to be twitching at his side. "Like water?" "Yeah, you know, if water burned your insides." "...bro." "It also gives me a nice buzz, so there''s that." "...bro." "...I''d offer you some, but¡­" With a snort, Greg stuck his tongue out, "... bad idea, y''know." "...bro."
[Light Poisoning] debuff applied -1 health every 30 seconds for 5 minutes.
Poison Resistance Level Up! 2¡ú3
"By the way, I found a cape name. How do you like Prodigy?" "I swear to God..." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 710/16350
Health 490/490
Mana 210/210
Willpower 198/198
STR 44 SPD 28 (+2)
VIT 32 INT 29
WIS 12(-80%) CHA 17(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $68.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 4 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 15 meters. (100 mph) Cost: 12 mp per second of sustained use Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Observe Lv 8 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Novice) Lv 18 (XP: 55%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increase your effective strength, speed and health by 2% per level with this technique. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Cost: 2 Will per second Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 15%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 5 seconds. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 13 (XP: 25%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 6 (XP: 35%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 5 (XP: 25%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 9 (XP: 60%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 11(XP: 25%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 32 (XP: 15%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 5 (XP: 35%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 3 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (6%) Taunt Lv 6 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.5 Aggro 4.5 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Monday, April 11th 2011 The Docks 12: 20 AM EDT As Greg landed, a current of air displacing around his body as he instinctively lightened his fall, he took off again in a flat-out sprint, easily out-speeding the downtown speed limit without much effort. Although, he doubted there was much point to a speed limit when he wasn''t even on the street. Reaching the edge of another rooftop in no time at all, the slight blue aura surrounding his legs thickened. The instant Greg kicked off the ground, the aura quickly exploded, a burst of air shooting from Greg''s legs propelling him up into the air. "Wooooooo-hoooooooooo!" It was like flight, inasmuch as the essence of flight was simply the effect of controlled falling. His falling was controlled, albeit slightly less so than what someone capable of flight could achieve but aerokinesis could be leveraged for a lot, considering how versatile the power was. The exhilaration from leaping and letting the wind carry you even the slightest bit was unable to deny, Greg''s face splitting into a massive grin as he leapt from building to building.
Acrobatics Level Up! 15¡ú16
Tilting forward, Greg aimed himself at the front of a building and twisted his body so that his legs would be the first things to meet it. Cloaking himself with wind, his feet met the brick wall of the abandoned tenement and he kicked off, exploding into the air again with the help of his aerokinesis. Arms held behind his back, Greg intermittently shot out powerful, yet tightly compacted bursts of wind from his palms, each burst extending his leap just the slightest bit further. As he neared the edge of the next roof, which was much farther than he expected now that Greg gave it some thought, he relaxed his aerokinesis and fell forward, allowing his hands to catch on the edge of the roof. Pulling himself up with ease, Greg continued his roof-jumping activities, a grin on his half-masked face. After an entire week of his mom taking time off work for the two of them to spend more time together both in Hershey''s Park and at home, Greg finally had some modicum of freedom, far more than he had expected he would get for a while. With Susan Veder announcing that the trip to Hershey''s Park taught her that she missed spending time with Greg, she dropped the bomb that she was going to start working night shifts. The reason being, so that she could be there for Greg more during the day. She had described things as if they would go back to the old days, "before I started working again, you know, sweetie? Didn''t you miss that?" Greg hadn''t said much in response, simply smiling and hugging his mom. He wasn''t sure if there was anything even to say. Although, he had found himself wondering exactly what his mom thought there was to miss of the "good old days." In the several-year period between his dad moving out and his mom actually renewing her nursing license, all he had to come home to was a lot of crying, sleeping and drinking on his mother''s part. It wasn''t a fun time for anyone, really. Although, it might have been kinda fun for his dad, now that Greg thought about it. Probably why his mom cried for so long, anyway. Even now, he wasn''t sure if his mom was actually okay or if those pills in her nightstand were just doing their job. Shaking his head, Greg pulled himself out of his own head, pushing those uncomfortable thoughts to the side rather than dwell on them. Flipping off another building, he kept his gaze on the growing sight of the water reflecting the light of the first quarter of the moon quite visibly. The Boat Graveyard was his destination tonight. With his improvements in meditation and his general awareness in both Mana and Willpower (+1 to Meditation, +2 to Mana Awareness, + 1 to Willpower Awareness), Greg was finally going to try and create something that he''d wanted to try out for a while. Seeing as how the general display of the skill might be hard to explain to his mom, Greg had decided to wait until she had left for her first overnight shift before sneaking out in full costume to head to the collection of derelict ships. The urge to improve his skills had kinda eased up over the past few days, after he leveled up Structural Analysis a bit and especially after he broke the threshold for Reinforcement, prestiging the already impressive skill to the next level, as well as gaining several bonuses from it.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 1 (XP: 30%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (50%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (250%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds.
Like, if that was not the definition of awesome, Greg didn''t know what was. As it was now, he wasn''t even using Reinforcement, satisfied with using Aerokinesis to supplement his movement. Considering that his normal state was now about as strong as his reinforced maximum last week, Greg didn''t see the point in wasting the Willpower. Either way, with aerokinesis lightening him and boosting his jumps, he was plenty strong and undeniably fast. His grin widening, Greg pushed off another rooftop again, spinning in the air like an acrobat, his body covering so many yards in one single jump. The cloak of wind around his body flared with each leap, Greg having gained enough skill to instinctively burst it from his lower body with each leap. The mana use was negligible, really, considering that Greg wasn''t using the full power and wasn''t even keeping the wind burst effect active for longer than a half-second each time. Leaping again, Greg twisted in midair until he was fully upside down, his hands angling down. Fingers meeting the top of a vent, he pushed off, a burst of wind exploding from his hands and propelling him off the roof and down to the much shorter roof below. Twisting, spinning and pulling off acrobatics that he doubted anyone but a crazy person would pull without having the comforting reassurance of powers to ease their stress, Greg prepared pull off one more daring move when... "Arrrgh!" In the middle of his spin, an undeniable roar of loud, raw anger cut through the relative quiet that filled this side of the Docks. Losing control of his aerokinesis at the sudden surprise, Greg dropped to the roof in a semi-hard landing, his fist meeting the ground at the same time as one of his knees. Not even having the time to applaud himself over his picture-perfect superhero landing, Greg spun, searching for the sound of that guttural sound. The search for the sound was interrupted by several other, more varied sounds. Screams, shouts, and yelps of pain from the street below filled his ears, as a multitude of Asian men ran down the street emitting sounds of pain as they swatted at their clothes. What the hell? ABB? What are they running from? Distracted again by something else, Greg''s eyes found themselves drawn to a large, flickering orange light down the street from the rooftop he currently stood on, the first thought passing through his head being, They started a fire? The second was, The ABB lit that guy on fire? His eyes widened as he heard the skittering of hundreds, maybe thousands, of insects on the street below, the low light provided by the moon just enough for him to spot the living carpet that filled the street below and the buzzing haze that hovered above even that, all of them swarming towards the man on fire. The man on fire and not dying, who was now raising his hands into the air to shoot fire into the sky... His third thought was, ¡­ That''s Lung. His voice was less than a whisper, the sound little more than an idea on his lips as he vocalized, "Observe."
Lung Lvl 85 Overlord of the ABB Title: Dragon King of War HP: 1528/650 [-12 HP every 5 seconds] Status: [Mild Poisoning] x 120 As the mighty Dragon of Kyushu, Lung has tangled with the CUI, the Protectorate and the Endbringer of Water itself, Leviathan. A suicidal opponent to face for even the most veteran of heroes, Lung gives no quarter and holds no real standards of honor, only interested in appearances and being in power. Also, if you somehow can''t tell, he is a boss level baddie.
Blinking, Greg took in what he just read, a dull look on his face. The fourth and frankly, the smartest thought he was sure he''d ever had in his life was, Fuck this whole situation. I''m out.
For making a very sound decision based on self-preservation, you have gained 1 WIS.
Didn''t need you to tell me that, but I''ll take it. Backing away slowly from the angry, burning, soon-to-be-dragon so as to not make any noise that would draw attention to his rooftop, Greg''s eyes caught a hint of motion from a slightly taller rooftop just a few alleys away. It was a cape. Hero or villain, he couldn''t really tell from where he stood but from what he could see, their costume looked vaguely creepy and rather insect-like with a head of long, thick hair. Or, rather, the insect comparison was what made them look creepy in the first place. Probably a bug-controlling Master with that costume, Greg thought to himself, lips pursed in thought, and considering they''re going after Lung, they can''t be a bad guy¡­ or girl, I guess. At least, I doubt they are. "Observe."
[Unnamed] Bug Girl Lvl 11 Title: Queen of the Swarm HP: 125/125 A rookie cape out on her first night. Controls bugs. Wears a creepy costume. Stupid enough to attack Lung, but smart enough to realize she can''t take him in a straight fight and she should never have done this in a million years because death awaits those who fuck with the rage dragon. Also not a big fan of gingers.
Observe Lv Up! 8¡ú9
Blinking in confusion at the last bit of info from his [Observe], Greg decided on how to proceed rather quickly. I choose life. Shaking his head, Greg continued backing away from the ensuing cape fight, not feeling in the slightest bit convinced that this was a situation that needed his intervention. Even if it was, he wasn''t really feeling up to it, anyway. That''s when Lung exploded. Literally. Exploded. Detonating in a blast of flame that cloaked his body for an instant, Lung walked forward, the area around his body entirely free of the rolling carpet or floating haze of insects. That''s pretty frickin'' cool, actually. The method of pest control didn''t last long, as the bugs continued on their path toward Lung, swarming him in seconds. With a roar of frustration, Lung burst into flames again, this time staying on fire, the flaring light from his body adding some brightness to the street below, bugs and all. A part of Greg wanted to know how Lung could breathe with the fire using up all the oxygen around him, considering all the speculation that had surrounded that aspect of his powers on Parahumans Online. The rest of him wanted to know why he hadn''t gotten the fuck out of dodge yet. Scales burst from Lung''s back, a silver ridge appearing from his spine, Lung hunching over slightly as the transformation began. Greg''s eyes widened and he began to creep away just a bit faster, his interest at seeing Lung''s transformation in-person not at all strong enough to overcome his fear of an early death. On the street below, Lung suddenly whirled around, his flames spinning with him to create something of a light show and let out another roar, this one far from human. The partially-scaled dragon man leapt from a standing position across the street, slamming into the second story of the building that the Bug¡­ person was standing on top of. Greg wasn''t sure exactly how Lung knew they were there but regardless, he did know. She''s gonna die, Greg thought to himself, hissing slightly. Even with his reduced pain sensation, burns still hurt like a bitch and they seemed to take much longer to fade than regular physical wounds for some reason. Unless they were a Brute, this cape was fucked. Greg frowned as he watched Lung dig into the building with his claws, the cape slowly ascending the front of the structure even as his body was alight with flames. Greg turned around, trying to force himself to walk away. This wasn''t his problem. He wasn''t the one who tried to fight Lung. He wasn''t a suicidal idiot, trying to take on literally the strongest cape in the city. This wasn''t his problem. In fact, it was none of his business and he wasn''t in the mood to change that. This isn''t my probl- fuck.
Quest Created! WWPSD: What Would Prototype Saber Do? Details: Save the fair insect maiden from being turned into a roasted cockroach. Success: + 3 Stat Point, +1 Perk Point, + 5 Heat Resistance, 9000 XP Failure: A deep sense of shame.
Fuck your shame. Hissing, he turned back and faced Lung with his teeth gritted. "Motherfuck meee¡­ [Inventory]." Sticking his hand into empty air, the limb vanished up to the elbow for half a second as Greg pulled out a small bottle of apple juice, a protein bar, and another bottle of Gatorade, all in quick succession. Shoving the protein bar down his throat, Greg washed it down with several sloppy gulps of apple juice and Gatorade. Wiping his lips, he tossed the bottles to the side and began to run. "[Reinforcement.]" Both body and costume flaring a bright yellow with his newest level of Reinforcement, Greg took off, legs slicing underneath him as he pushed himself to move just the slightest bit faster. Leaping the first alley without even a pause, Greg landed on the second roof and kept running, the cloak of aerokinesis doing it''s best to ease his air resistance as he sliced through the air. Flooding his mana to both his arms and legs, Greg leapt off the last roof with a powerful running jump, his aerokinesis boosting him from behind and launching him higher into the air as he took off like a rocket. The force of his aerokinesis in the form of compressed air shot him up from several different points, bringing him closer to flight than he''d ever been before now. Feet meeting the wall, Greg pushed mana to his feet and began running up the wall without a single pause, moving almost as fast as he had been when he was horizontal. He could hear Lung nearing the rooftop, the building shaking somewhat as Lung dug into the structure with his inhuman strength, tearing apart brick and mortar to create handholds. As the shaking paused, Greg''s eyes widened as he realized something. He''s on the roof! Kicking off the wall, Greg poured on the mana, pushing it all to his aerokinesis as he compressed the air again to act as a thruster. With a powerful, air-assisted horizontal leap, Greg cleared the edge of the rooftop with ease, landing shakily on the gravel that lined the roof itself. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. As he landed, he spotted Lung pulling his arm back, a ball of flame held in his wrist. In front of him was the bug girl trying to run away from him. "...erfucker!" Ignoring Lung''s guttural scream, Greg flared his reinforcement once more and rushed forward. His left arm caught the bug-themed cape around the waist, gripping her body tightly to his as he pivoted away from the onrushing stream of flame. He ignored her yelp of surprise as he dipped the cape to keep her long hair away from his face, twisting his focus to Lung as he prepared his defense. Thrusting his hand out, Greg screamed the first thing that came to mind at the very top of his lungs. "COUNTERSPELL!" In front of his outstretched palm, a convex wall of air, around six feet in diameter, directed the brunt of Lung''s flames away from the both of them by acting as a diverting force, splitting the fire. Greg blinked rapidly, slight droplets of sweat falling down his brow slightly as the fire rushed away in several directions, lighting up the rooftop with an orange flare.
Ability: Ballroom Dancing Gained!
What the fuck? Greg didn''t have time to consider this new development, hoisting the girl up in his arms before leaping off the roof. The bug girl yelped again, her grip instinctively tightening onto him as he held her in a bridal carry. Greg did his best to ignore how tightly she was pressed up against him, mind still focused on drawing the air to him to lighten their fall. From his place on top of the roof, Lung let out a guttural scream of rage, the sound of raw, animalistic anger sending a shiver of intense fear down Greg''s back even as he hit the ground with his guest in his arms. Glancing behind him, Greg''s eyes widened behind his silver half-mask, biting down a curse as he spotted Lung''s glowing eyes peering down from the rooftop, mouth open in a furious roar as metallic scales jutted out over his torso all at once.
Quest Success! "WWPSD: What Would Prototype Saber Do?" Completed! Gained 9000 XP Gained 3 Stat Points Gained 1 Perk Point Gained 5 to Heat Resistance
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Greg shook his head at what he''d gotten himself into, the cape girl in his hands trembling as he took off running again. The things I do for XP. Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 9710/16350
Health 490/490 (+20)
Mana 210/210
Willpower 198/198 (+3)
STR 44 (+2) SPD 28 (+2) (+2)
VIT 32 (+2) INT 29
WIS 13 (-80%) CHA 17 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 3
Perk Points: 1
Cash: $68.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 6 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 15 meters. (120 mph) Cost: 15 mp per second of sustained use Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 1 (XP: 30%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (50%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (250%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 5 seconds. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 16 (XP: 45%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 11(XP: 25%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 32 (XP: 15%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 10 (XP: 95%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 3 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (6%) Taunt Lv 6 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: I Need A Hero Cutscene: I Need A Hero ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Taylor Hebert I''m going to die. The same thought played on a constant loop through her head as she tried to run from Lung''s flaming form, the heat causing rivulets of sweat to pour down her face mask. It wasn''t supposed to be like this. In truth, she never thought this was how it would end. All she wanted to do was stop Lung from killing children, something that any hero worth the name would at least try. Even if it meant dying, she had to do something. With Lung staring her down and about to roast her alive, Taylor knew she had no options, simply standing still when Lung ordered her to run to make it more fun for him. There was no point stretching this out into some deluded cat and mouse game for no reason. She was already dead, and Taylor knew it. After all, if Lung wanted her dead, there was nothing she could do to stop him, so why even bother pretending otherwise? So, she stood still, her knees shaking in her costume, sweat dripping down her body as she waited for Lung to finally do it. For some reason, he didn''t get it over with immediately, simply ranting and screaming at her, the raw anger in his tone unmistakable. Even as tongues of flame arched dangerously close to her, Lung screamed grating obscenities at her for wasting his time and not even bothering to give him a good chase, promising to burn her alive just for the insult. As she instinctively turned her back on Lung to avoid his flames, she felt that unbearable heat of his flare. At that moment, she froze and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth so as to not cry out in pain when it finally hit her. Then she felt herself spinning as an arm grabbed her around the waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, her head falling down from the angle by which she was held. For an instant she thought it was Lung, the immediate lack of intense pain and the much smaller frame of the arm holding her being what convinced her otherwise. The costume, a flash of blue and white in her vision, told her all she needed to know. Cape. Hero. The cape screamed something at the top of his lungs, his voice drowned out by Lung''s roar and the sound of rushing air and fire as they all mixed together in an unbearable din. Fire exploded inches away from the cape''s face, his blue and white hoodie blown back just slightly enough for her to catch a glimpse of blonde hair. Before she could process this, the cape heaved her up into a bridal carry in his arms and leapt into the air. Instinctively grabbing hold of him tightly, Taylor found herself letting out a small sound of surprise as they fell, her eyes widening behind her mask. Instead of crashing into the ground, they landed oddly softly with a powerful expulsion of air at the moment of touchdown, the cape still retaining his speed as he broke out into a run immediately, leaving Lung roaring behind them. The wind whipped at her hair wildly, the cape''s speed matching that of a car as he took off down the street, leaving behind the explosions of flame that were undeniably Lung''s. Despite the fact that they were leaving him further and further behind, Taylor did not cease in directing more and more of the venomous parts of her swarm to the dragon-man. Most died before reaching him, consumed by the gouts of flame that he was fond of throwing out but plenty made contact, stinging him at least once before dying against his boiling hot flesh. Comparatively few of them stung at his more sensitive areas, but even then, it was enough to keep the draconic cape occupied. The cape carrying her suddenly leapt up into the air, a burst of air exploding from his feet as he took off. His jump, like Lung''s, was incredible but far more graceful and controlled, the force of it enough to carry him all the way to the top of a three-story building. Landing softly on the gravel of the roof, the cape let out a sigh and let go of her legs, letting Taylor touch the ground herself. As he let her go, the sound that instinctively left her lips this time was one of disappointment rather than shock or fear, Taylor was surprised to realize. She had enjoyed that far too much. "Are you harmed, my lady?" "Wha-?" Taylor blinked behind her mask, staring into the cape''s brilliant blue eyes as he spoke to her, silver gauntlets brushing off gravel that had somehow gotten on the shoulders of her costume. "I said... are you harmed, my lady?" So, she hadn''t imagined the barely passable Shakespearean accent that was coming out of his mouth. Good to know. At the very least, she still had her sanity. "Who¡­ who are you?" The sentence left her mouth in a tired whisper, her expectation of how the night would go having shifted so rapidly several times tonight that she wasn''t sure of anything anymore. The cape put a hand to his silver breastplate, Taylor noting a distinct lack of metallic sounds as his glove met his chest. "I am but a hero, fair maiden." Fair maiden? Taylor chose to ignore that line, simply shaking her head as he raised a hand to where her forehead would be under her mask. "But... your name?" "My name?" The cape pursed his lips, pulling himself up to his full height and striking an imperious pose. "I¡­ am Sir Arthur Pendragon, King of the Britons, One True Ruler of England and Defeater of Evil in all its myriad forms," he paused there, tilting his head before continuing, "but some call me¡­ Tim." "What?" He had to be joking. "I''m... just doing a bit. The name''s Prodigy. Y''know, ''cause I''m so dang good at everything I do." He shot her a brilliant smile, letting out a vaguely annoying and oddly familiar cackle of laughter as he finally broke character. "So, what''s yours?" "I," Taylor flinched, stumbling over her words as she tried to come up with a name. Here she was on her first night out, making stupid plans and needing to be rescued by a far more impressive and far more confident cape, despite both of them likely being the same age. He had accomplished something tonight, both saving her and escaping from Lung. What had she done other than offer herself up on a platter? "...Don''t have one¡­ yet." "Ooooh, you''re super green, huh?" The cape said with a rapid click of his tongue. Taylor nodded. "And you decided to go up against Lung¡­" he shook his head, letting out a slow whistle, "on your own, too. That''s just¡­ That''s just not using your head. Lung''s not exactly a small fry. Heh, fry. Get it? Fire powers?" He waved his hand at Taylor. "Forget it." Taylor hadn''t even been paying attention to the rest of his words past the first sentence, her mind far away as she caught sight of the explosions in the distance. Those flames¡­ Taylor shivered, recalling just how overwhelming that heat had been even from a distance. She looked back at him, noting how his gaze had been lifted off hers and was glancing over her head. Taylor glanced up as well, searching for what he could be looking for. Seeing nothing, she turned back to him. "Umm¡­" Rather than explain the oddity, the cape glanced back at her with another wide grin on his face, this one obviously forced. "Hey, you''re still hitting Lung with those bugs, right?" After a moment, he added, "Like, right now?" Taylor blinked, wondering how he knew that. "Um... " "I''ll take that as a yes," he rushed over her hurriedly, waving his hand as if brushing away whatever she was going to say. "I''m gonna need you to keep doing it for at least," his gaze went up again, "ten? Wow, yeah, ten more minutes and Lung should go down." That''s¡­ specific. Taylor''s eyes narrowed. "Ten minutes? H-how do you know that?" The cape shrugged, his face taking on an odd constipated expression. "I just know stuff. I''m a Thinker¡­ whatever. Just¡­ can you do this for me?" He asked, leaning in and giving her an oddly eager stare. Taylor shivered at the idea of staying in one place again, anywhere Lung could reach her. "I¡­", she paused, dropping her gaze to the gravel beneath their feet and shuddering again, "Last time, I... I don''t think I¡­" "Hey." His gauntlet landed on her shoulder, Taylor flinching at the sudden contact only to find herself staring into his eyes again, the silver half-mask doing nothing to dull the bright, eager look in his eyes as he stared her down. "I get it. You don''t feel like you can do it. You don''t believe in yourself, right?" Taylor found herself nodding at his words, her hands quivering slightly as she realized how close she came to dying, the entire situation out of her control from the moment Lung displayed exactly why he was so feared. "Then don''t believe in yourself," the cape continued, pausing slightly as Taylor tilted her head, her confusion clear even through her obscuring mask. "Believe in the me that believes in you because I believe you can do it!" Taylor stared at him, the conviction in his voice somehow overpowering just how unrepentantly cheesy the actual words were as they left his mouth. After a long moment, she sighed, mentally spent but willing to help the person who risked his life to save hers. "I can send bugs at him for ten minutes," Taylor replied, using his oddly specific time limit. "But I thought we were trying to escape?" The knightly cape flinched slightly, gauntleted hands snapping together without any of the sounds you''d expect from clashing pieces of metal. "You know what? I just remembered you don''t have a name!" The cape interjected, clumsily trying to change the subject as his voice slipped into his barely-practiced English accent. "If I am to be your knight, fair maiden, you must be my Lady. How dost thou feel about Lady Bug?" Taylor blinked at the name, not finding anything particularly wrong with it but surprised at the sharp way the cape just changed the subject, not even trying to answer her question. "Sound good? Good." Prodigy began backpedaling towards the edge of the roof, one thumbs up towards her as he spoke. "Remember the plan, ''kay? Taylor opened her mouth to ask him several pressing questions, questions the knightlike cape had been doing his best to avoid, only for a noise to interrupt her. A distinctly inhuman noise that undeniably came from Lung. Glancing down at the plume of flame that reached the sky just a few buildings away, the silver-armored cape made a little humming noise, far too calm at what was happening. His mouth made several odd movements, his voice little more than a whisper as it moved near-silently for a few seconds. At the end of it, the cape in the blue and silver glanced back at Taylor, the newly christened Lady Bug, and nodded. "That''s my cue. Remember, just keep him occupied, my lady, and leave the battle to me." Prodigy flashed her another grin, this one slightly less forced as his white teeth and blue eyes twinkled like stars. "As long as I draw breath, your safety is guaranteed." With a wink, the armored cape backflipped off the roof and disappeared from her sight. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Glancing at the girl he had just saved, Greg did his best to keep his attention locked on her face instead of looking at the twin quest panels above her head again, his mind already running on overdrive.
Quest Created! A Knight''s Duty I: Draw Aggro Details: Fight Lung for a total of [10] minutes while Lady Bug''s insects work their magic. Success: + 20 Stat Points, + 5 Perk Points, 100000 XP, + 5 STR, + 5 SPD, + 10 VIT, [?], $20000 Failure: Death Bonus Objective: Get the last hit on Lung.
Quest Created! I need A Meatshield I: Protect Thine Lady Details: Prevent Lady Bug''s death at the hands of Lung Success: + 5 Stat Points, + 1 Perk Point, + 5 VIT, 20000 XP, [?] Failure: Death Bonus Objective: Ensure Lady Bug takes no damage from Lung.
Motherfucker. His mind was already made up upon seeing the rewards. At some point, he already locked it down in his mind, confirming that he would take both quests. Staying alive for ten minutes wouldn''t be impossible. Nowhere near impossible. He could survive this. He could do this. All he had to do¡­ was survive Lung. Not beat him. Survive. Just survive. For ten minutes. Six hundred seconds. It would just take skill. Skill that he wasn''t sure he had. However, there was no doubt that by the end of the next ten minutes, he''d gain skill and power in droves, enough to be far more than an appetizer to Lung. His stats always seemed to level far faster in actual combat than after hours of grinding, especially with his life on the line. And, with those rewards¡­ Greg flinched as Lung''s roar seemed to shake the air as he approached, torching buildings in his path as he made his way down the street searching for them. Greg let out a breath from his nose, allowing the calm of Gamer''s Mind to keep his hands from visibly trembling. His eyes flicked upwards again, mouth barely whispering the words that would transfer his few remaining perk and stat points where they needed to go. Giving Lady Bug a fake smile that he did not believe on any level, Greg gave her a few more words of bravado that came from a place he did not know existed. Winking at her, he let one last sentence fall from his mouth, his lips running on autopilot, pulling generic cool guy lines from movies, games and books he''d read. "As long as I draw breath, your safety is guaranteed." There was no doubt he''d try, at the very least, to keep Lady Bug safe. The quest depended on it. Stepping off the roof, Greg pushed off with his aerokinesis and let himself fall. Two low-levels against a Level 80 Dragon King? Greg let himself smile as he touched down on the asphalt, his cloak of wind already tightly surrounding his body. Questions filled his mind as he turned his head to face the rapidly approaching dragon cape. Questions like: Why am I doing this? For the rewards. When did I stop being a coward? The same day he learned that doing enough crazy shit could turn him into a demigod. What part of this is a fair fight? None of it. That''s what made it fun. As he answered the questions in his own head one by one, Greg let out a slightly manic laugh and held his arms out to the side of him as he did a quick spin to gather momentum for his aerokinetic abilities. The last and final question was likely the most important one, at the moment, and the one he couldn''t wait to answer. Pants-shittingly terrifying or not, how awesome was this gonna be? Ready to find out the answer, Greg''s wry smile twisted into a manic grin. "Hey, Mushu!" The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. The flaming figure in the distance paused its roar, superhuman hearing picking up on his semi-racist insult. Greg struck a pose, body flaring with yellow light as he activated his reinforcement. "Come get some!"
Chosen Perks: + 1 to Danger Sense Chosen Stats: + 3 VIT
Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 9710/16350
Health 520/520 (+20)
Mana 210/210
Willpower 202/202 (+3)
STR 44 (+2) SPD 28 (+2) (+2)
VIT 35 (+2) INT 29
WIS 13 (-80%) CHA 17 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $68.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Danger Sense (1/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 6 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 15 meters. (120 mph) Cost: 15 mp per second of sustained use Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 1 (XP: 30%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (50%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (250%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 5 seconds. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 16 (XP: 45%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 11(XP: 25%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 32 (XP: 15%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 10 (XP: 95%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (5%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 3 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (6%) Taunt Lv 6 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.6 Aggro 4.6 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C In hindsight, maybe screaming at Lung to come get him wasn''t the smartest of ideas. Also, in hindsight, maybe referring to the angry dragon man using the name of a dragon in a Disney movie was also not a bright idea. A dragon voiced by a black man, no less. That was probably more insulting, now that Greg thought about it, considering the fact that Eddie Murphy''s voice coming out of a Chinese Lung dragon was probably some sort of insult to his culture on some sort of level. Either that, or an insult to his very existence. Although, all of this was assuming that Lung had ever even watched Mulan in the first place. Considering Lung''s general vibe plus the fact that movie solely came out on Aleph, Greg doubted Lung had ever willingly watched any cartoons in his life, let alone anything Disney related. Not enough singing and general happiness in his daily life probably explained the anger anyway. Keeping his reinforcement active, Greg was forced to dance around Lung''s explosive bursts of flames, the dragon man trying rather hard to introduce him to the wonderful world of pyrotechnics.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 1¡ú2
While Greg wasn''t gonna deny he loved explosions, Lung''s intensity for the hobby was rather off-putting, to say the least. "Stop trying to kill me!" For the tenth time that night, Greg uttered the same words at a pitch far higher than he felt comfortable with. Just barely managing to divert a large stream of fire with his aerokinesis, at least enough for him to dive under it and scramble to his feet again, Greg found himself back-pedaling once more, Lung on his tail like the world''s shiniest hunting dog as he intermittently let out roars that rung of anger and pain. "How ''bout a time out? Just to catch a breath," Greg shouted, a nervous smile plastered on his sweating, grimy face. "I dunno, seven minutes? Eight to be safe!"
Taunt Level Up! 6¡ú7 Basic Aerokinesis Level Up! 6¡ú7
Lung didn''t even pause to consider his genius idea, roaring at the top of his lungs once more. Heh-heh¡­ lungs. Hoooly SH- The inhuman roar that promised Greg nothing but a painful, torturous death was followed up by several flaming missiles, each one as large as Greg''s torso. Slapping away the first with a stream of wind, Greg dodged the second, pulse speeding up slightly as the meter wide ball of flames flew a few inches from his face. The third, fourth and fifth came right after one another, rushing right towards him with each of them trailed by a multitude of smaller blasts.
Reflexes Level Up! 11¡ú12
Spinning, Greg curved his palms in on each other, leaving a gap between them and pushed as much air as he could out in front of him, screaming at the top of his voice, "WIND WALL!" The next burst of flame met an unfinished wall of air and the air held, trembling for an instant as the fire consumed the oxygen that made it up. Greg hissed in pain as he lost focus the instant the explosive fire made contact, the plastic gauntlets heated enough to begin deforming by what little flames passed through. -9 -3 -3
Heat Resistance Level Up! 10¡ú12
The heat and force washed over Greg, already sweating from the baking temperatures he was surrounded by but he grit his teeth. More and more hit the wavering shield in front of him, the force of each one pushing him back even as Greg did his best to hold his ground. The worst part of all this was that even though Lung''s health continued dipping occasionally, the crazy bastard kept getting stronger, with his health growing to match.
Lung Lvl 88 HP: 2398/650
"What the f-" Biting back the curse on his lips, Greg refocused his attention on the wall of spinning air in front of him, sweat dripping down his face as his hair began to flatten to his skull. It was at 2619 like thirty seconds ago. 2393 a little before that. Growing and falling constantly. Greg wasn''t exaggerating in the slightest as to the efficacy of Lung''s growth. Even with the occasional rapid dips that Lung''s heath would make, his continual growth and powerful healing factor would show off their combined power, pushing Lung''s health up just enough to make Greg a great deal more nervous about the approaching time limit. In short, it was a bitch and a half to fight and fight and fight, just to feel like you were getting fucking nowhere. The only silver lining that Greg could take away from this entire situation was that Lung wasn''t able to properly focus his attention or the full force of his blasts on him, his attention constantly interrupted by insects biting at him and entering his various orifices. Still, even with his attention divided and his insides being snacked on, Lung could do plenty to make Greg sweat. Literally. Lung roared out, a plume of flame exploding around him and searing the ground into molten tar, scorching the bugs within a range of at least two meters to nothing but ash. Roaring again, a burst of flame shot from Lung''s mouth, far larger, faster and more volatile than those that came before it. Greg''s eyes widened like dinner plates. Aww f- The explosion pushed against the curved sphere of wind Greg held out, the raw power of it sending him flying back as his shield gave way, expanding outwards as he barely jumped out of it''s path. Propelled by the shockwave, Greg hit the ground hard, tumbling forward like a piece of garbage tossed aside onto the filthy streets of the Docks. -21 -12 -9
Basic Aerokinesis Level Up! 7¡ú9 Blunt Force Resistance Level Up! 30¡ú32 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 2¡ú3
You have gained 1 VIT.
"KILL¡­ OOO!" As he scrambled to his feet, Greg bit back a retort, eyes widening as Lung began gathering fire again. Heart pounding in his chest, Greg dove behind a car and pressed his back up against it, using it as coverage before Lung launched a salvo of fire at him. Glancing up slightly to peek over the edge of the derelict vehicle, Greg let out a scream of fear that was in no way girlish as Lung''s body flared again. Filled with an urge for self-preservation, he ducked behind the car, cloaking himself with wind for added cover. His actions came not a moment too soon as the car itself and the area around himself was suddenly pounded with repeating bursts of flame interspersed with streams of fire that bore far too much of a resemblance to napalm for Greg to feel comfortable even attempting to block it. I wish this quest had an active timer.
Lung Lvl 88 HP: 2419/650
"How much longer?! How much more HP?" he screamed to no one in particular, his voice going up several octaves as he swatted away a cloud of flying insects that were far too close for comfort as they passed by his face. Eww my god! Gross! The sound of Lung''s gravelly, monstrous voice was nightmare on the ears, words fighting to escape that gaping horror Lung''s scaly form called a mouth. Yet, somehow, it wasn''t the worst sound Greg had to deal with. No, the fire wasn''t it either. The din of explosions and crackling flames all around him were their own assault on his ear-drums but even then he could ignore them, far too occupied on their cause to bother getting startled by those sounds. What bothered him was the bugs. The skittering, the crawling, the buzzing. The sound, by itself, was undeniably the most unsettling thing Greg had ever heard, and he doubted anyone in the world would disagree. A few bugs in a venue were loud enough to be annoying. A hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand? More? It was essentially a method of torture, exploiting man''s innate fear of creepy crawlies like that. The sound grated on Greg''s nerves, but he shoved the fear and irritation to the side because he knew they were here to help him. As much as a horde of insects could help against someone known as "The Human Endbringer", at least. Biblical plague or not, it was still just a repeating tidal wave of insects beating against the eternal cliffside that was Lung. Eventually, the cliff would fall into that ocean. Eventually, Greg hoped to himself. All he had to do was buy time for that to happen.
Lung Lvl 88 HP: 2272/650
Or maybe just die, cause fuck that bullshit. The barrage of fire and explosions halted for a moment and Greg let out a relieved breath, only to freeze again as something in his head screamed at him to move. Lung roared. The air screamed. With an inhuman jump, Greg cleared the car, a boost of air from his feet rocketing him upwards a moment before a veritable firestorm consumed the car in its entirety, turning the portions of it still-visible white hot to his eyes. Even as he soared above it, the powerful jet of flames bulged and expanded, engulfing an entire fourth of the street with its diameter. Forcing another burst of compressed air to push him away, Greg let out a relieved sigh. Lung roared once again. Another jet of compressed flame burst from Lung''s mouth, Greg''s eyes widening as the conflagration rushed at him. Fuck! Wrapping air around him again tighter than he did before, nearly compressing it against his skin like a second layer of skin, Greg pushed a burst of air from his opened palm, the action sending his airborne body spinning wildly to gather a great deal of momentum to generate even more windforce. Less than a second later, Greg cried out in pain as the powerful jet met his barrier, exploding against it with a powerful shockwave that sent glass and rubble flying. The impact tore through Greg''s hastily-created barrier with little effort, protecting Greg from the majority of the heat but exposing him to the raw power of the shockwave itself. -23
Basic Aerokinesis Level Up! 9¡ú11 Blunt Force Resistance Level Up! 32¡ú34 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 3¡ú4
Tumbling helplessly away for the second time that night, courtesy of Lung himself, Greg hit the asphalt with a great amount of force, painfully skidding across the ground as shattered glass, torn asphalt and myriads of insects flew with him. -13 -9 -3 -1 -2 -1
Piercing Resistance Level Up! 8¡ú10 Slashing Resistance Level Up! 6¡ú9
You have gained 1 VIT.
Blinking rapidly, Greg pushed himself up to his hands and knees, coughing and spitting out an unbearably uncomfortable mixture of blood, dirt and gravel. Pulling himself to his feet, Greg shook himself and wiped blood from his mouth, his gauntlet coming away with trails of red. The army of bugs parted around him, thankfully, avoiding Greg on their path to Lung. "Seriously?" Greg groaned, shooting Lung a glare as he recovered his balance. "Do you know how much that hurt?" Lung''s head was turned away from him, a living bonfire of silver scales standing over a dozen meters away, twitching and growling as insects swarmed towards him. Bursts of flame shot from around him, lighting up the night as Lung waved his bulky, flaming fists around like torches to ward off the unending insects. He was even bigger than now, almost a good foot taller than he was on that roof however many minutes ago. Entirely covered by armor-like scales at this point, his neck already beginning to mimic that of a giraffe, the nine-foot behemoth stood naked as the flames on his person flared like a hungry bonfire. Insects died in droves around him, carapaces cracking apart and exploding like an unending multitude of flash bombs, each and everyone of them sacrifices to the dragon god that was Lung.
Lung Lvl 90 HP: 2016/650
What is the fucking tipping point here? How am I supposed to fucking win this with me and some fucking bugs? Greg let out a burst of manic, giggling laughter as Lung shook his head erraticaly, as if to say, ''You''re not.''
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind
The cape''s attention wasn''t even on Greg at the moment, his steel-scaled face twitching violently for some reason as the villain let out several angry growls. "In hindsight, that was a dumb question for several reasons."
HP: 479/520 (540) [PowerBar? Cookie Dough Protein Bar: +5 to HP every 5 seconds] [Minute Maid? Apple Juice: + 10 to MP every 5 seconds, +30 MP] [Blue Raspberry Gatorade: + 2 to Will/HP regen, + 20 Will]
With a savage bellow, Lung rushed forward, head ducked low as he thundered towards Greg. Every stride left a small molten crater in Lung''s wake, the asphalt tearing itself apart as Lung charged with wild abandon, his face a monstrous rictus as his jaw suddenly split apart in an x-shape before Greg''s eyes, blood and viscera flying out as it opened. FUCK. ME. Blood dripping from his forehead and his cheeks rubbed raw by the asphalt, Greg raised a hand to his face to straighten his silver half-mask, glad that any item he equipped didn''t just fall off like normal clothing. He didn''t bother moving from the spot, simply waiting on the spot as Lung approached him. One eye remained on Lung''s charging form, watching the approaching beast, while the other darted to his right, catching sight of Lady Bug almost a full street away from the mayhem, standing on top of the three-story building he left her on. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Okay, she''s good. Turning his full attention back to the rapidly approaching dragon, Greg allowed himself a grin. "Ol¨¦!" At the last moment before Lung could reach him, Greg darted to the side, pushing his body forward with a burst of aerokinesis centered at his lower back. At the same moment, the blond did the same for his lower body, pushing his feet off the ground with a powerful explosion of compressed air to supplement his reinforced speed. Greg''s face mocked Lung with his incessant grin even as Lung''s fist swung for his body as the blond rocketed past the much taller cape, Lung''s silver tree trunk of an arm just a bit too far away for either him or his fiery aura to touch Greg. "Catch me if you can, Dragon Tales!" The taunt left Greg''s lips as he jumped up, avoiding another of Lung''s fireballs as they struck where he was just a moment prior. "Nope! You''ll have to be faster than that!" Hopping and flipping like Bugs Bunny after a healthy helping of cocaine, Greg spun in the air and stretched his hands out. Grabbing hold of a street lamp, Greg spun on it twice and let go with a burst of wind propelling him from behind as the lamppost and the building behind it became engulfed in red-hot flames.
Acrobatics Level Up! 16¡ú19
Propelling himself over Lung once more, Greg dropped on top of a partially-torched car at the far end of the street from Lung, the roof of the vehicle sinking slightly with his harsh landing onto it. Blue eyes glanced up the moment he touched down, locking gazes with Lung''s orange hell-pits. Let''s make this a good one. Need to hurt him. Greg shot the dragon man a grin, purposely making the expression as mocking as he could possibly make it. "Hey, Lung, are you this much of a pussy the rest of the time? The fact that you''ve been so weak this whole fight has already got me thinking about what I''m gonna do with all your stuff... y''know, when I win." Greg''s grin turned positively manic as Lung exploded, the pillar of flames flaring past the rooftops, and charged Greg, bellowing like a demon as the street cracked apart under his rampage.
Taunt Level Up! 7¡ú8
"Just according to keikaku." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 8 Experience 9710/16350
Health 520/520 (+20)
Mana 210/210
Willpower 202/202 (+3)
STR 44 (+2) SPD 28 (+2) (+2)
VIT 35 (+2) INT 29
WIS 13 (-80%) CHA 17 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $68.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80¡¯s/90¡¯s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you¡¯ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you¡¯re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you¡¯re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don¡¯t hurt either. It¡¯s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that¡¯s what he always told you - even when you didn¡¯t ask - all the time. (+9 CHA)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 11 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 15 meters. (160 mph) Cost: 18 mp per second of sustained use Dash Straight Lv 4 (XP: 15%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. By combining Power Sprint with Angry Straight, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance Power Sprinted. (1.25x Damage Cap) Cost: 7 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 4 (XP: 70%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (70%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage. Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (325%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 15%) Boosts weapon damage x 2 for 5 seconds. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 19 (XP: 5%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (40%) Parry Lv 4 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 12(XP: 45%) DODGE! Increases your innate reflexes and reactions by 10% per level. (120%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 34 (XP: 95%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (24%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 12 (XP: 15%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (12%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 8 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Resistance: Slashing Lv 6 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 3 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (6%) Taunt Lv 8 (XP: 40%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.7 Aggro 4.7 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Running forward to meet Lung head-on, Greg thrust his right hand out to the side, screaming out at the top of his lungs. "Equip: Bastard Sword!" The blue-hilted bastard sword appeared in his hand in a flash of blue, motes of blue mana glitter fading away from it the moment it was enclosed in his grip. The aura of wind surrounding his body covered the sword at the same time the golden glow of his reinforcement met it. "Come now, foul Dragon, and meet your match at the end of my blade!"
Taunt Level Up! 8¡ú9
His cheesy Renaissance fair banter was met with a stream of flame, Lung''s blasts reaching him before the dragon himself could. Shit! Rather than face the blast head-on, Greg jerked to the side with a boost from his aerokinesis, rushing closer towards Lung as he recovered. Lung hurled several more blasts of flame in quick succession, forcing Greg to raise another convex wall of wind in front of him, each blast nearly dispersing the airwall despite Greg doing his best to keep it from falling apart. It truly was amazing how dedicated Lung could get when it came to a fight, now that Greg thought about it. Even now, the bugs were still swarming towards him en masse, in larger numbers than ever before, many of them somehow avoiding Lung''s flames on their path to enter Lung''s body. Yet, he barely showed any sign they were bothering him, apart from the occasional twitch and pained groan. No, he was too busy trying to kill Greg dead. It was almost admirable. At least, it would be if homicide wasn''t his goal. Greg let out another grin as his shield held against several blasts, pushing the wall of wind forward with a single palm thrust and dispersing several fireballs headed his way. "GALE PALM!" Y''know, maybe I should invest in an actual shield. Twisting out of the way of another incoming missile, Greg let it explode behind him as he shot forward once more, sword tightly gripped in hand. Like, not wood. Cause¡­ fire but like, a good metal. Lung roared, his snake-like neck undulating with the movement and exploded outwards again, launching explosive fireballs with wild abandon. Not willing to stop his charge, Greg swung his wind-coated sword instinctively. Eyes widening behind his mask, Greg let out a short bark of laughter as the blade actually cut through the fireball, dissipating it''s form with a single swipe. Where are all the capes in this city right now?
Basic Aerokinesis Level Up! 11¡ú12 Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 3¡ú4
Still laughing, Greg dodged a jet of flame, sword swiftly cutting through another launched missile. "All that bluster and nothing to show for it, eh, sir Lung?" Greg snarked, pouring on the Shakespearean speech. "Is this what it means for a man or should I say, beast, to be truly impotent?" I should really stop trying to piss this guy off.
Taunt Level Up! 9¡ú10
Lung lost it. Nearly falling to all fours, Lung tore through the streets, moving much faster than he had in his previous charges as he basically flung the road out of his path with each stride. Greg blinked. "... Errors have been made." Lung pounced. Someone screamed. Eyes wide with shock at Lung''s sudden burst of speed, Greg dove under Lung''s flame-filled claw swipe and lashed out with his sword in an upwards vertical strike aimed at Lung''s elbow joint. "Weapon Charge!" Screaming the skill name at the top of his lungs, the subtle yellow glow of his reinforced sword shifting to a bright blue as steel met scale.
Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 4¡ú6
For a single instant, there was a horrendous screech of metal on metal, the glowing sword halting for a moment as it met resistance. Grunting, Greg chose not to push any further, violently wrenching his sword out instead. With a spray of blood, the sword came free, the steaming liquid splashing on to him in a spray of red rain. Some of the blood striking him in the face, Greg recoiled in disgust at the same moment that Lung roared in pain, words utterly unintelligible, and lunged for Greg. Recovering, Greg swung again, the edge of his blade meeting Lung''s flaming fist in a powerful clash. As durable as the sword was, though, Greg''s strength still paled in comparison to Lung''s immense might and they both knew it. With a yelp of pain and surprise, Greg was sent hurtling into the air and back onto the street, his sword digging into the ground as Greg held tight. -17 -4 -1 -1
Parry Level Up! 4¡ú8 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 4¡ú5 Blunt Force Resistance Level Up! 34¡ú35
Skidding on his back across the ground, Greg pushed off the hot asphalt with one gloved hand, flipping into the air and narrowly avoiding another furious lunge from Lung as he soared over Lung''s head and landed on his feet once more.
Acrobatics Level Up! 19¡ú21
The dragon''s limb flared, a small explosion bursting from Lung''s arm directly towards Greg. Swinging his sword, a jet of wind flew from the edge of the blade meeting Lung''s flame in mid-air and diverting most of the heat and force from Greg before it could reach him. -1 -1 -2 "Weapon Charge!" Shifting his grip on the glowing blue sword with a distinct yellow tint, Greg held the weapon pointed out in front of him yet tucked close to his side as a riding knight would hold a lance. Without a moment to think, he began to run towards the dragon, his body and clothes flaring gold. "Dash¡­" "KHILL¡­" Lung howled, a raspy sound laced with an undertone of crackling glass, and twisted around to rush towards Greg. "OOOO!" "STRAIGHT!" As he dashed forward with all his speed, Greg''s sword gouged into Lung''s side. Enhanced by momentum, Greg''s sword encountered much less resistance this time, the blade tearing a massive gash into the dragon-man''s ribs as Greg came to a stop behind him.
You have gained 1 SPD.
Dash Straight Level Up! 4¡ú8 Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 6¡ú10 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 5¡ú7 Weapon Charge Level Up! 5¡ú9
Twisting, Greg pounced back at Lung before the cape could turn around. "Weapon Charge!" His slash went up and to the side, tearing into Lung''s flaming back and stopping at his shoulder. With no regard for the tongues of flame that were licking at his own costume, Greg wrenched the sword out as Lung let out an animalistic cry of pain, already thrashing wildly. [CRITICAL HIT] Stumbling back slightly, Greg weaved to avoid Lung''s massive limbs as they clawed at him, his body weathering the flames of Lung''s body as they threatened to cook him. -1 -3 -1 -3
Heat Resistance Level Up! 12¡ú14 Reflexes Level Up! 12¡ú14
It wasn''t that Lung was slow. Far from it, in fact. The cape''s angry swings and swipes were just not something that Greg expected from a badass like him. They weren''t exactly lightning fast at the beginning of this fight but they were faster than any normal person could manage to dodge. Now, though, the speed remained the same but the execution was terrible. Sloppy, careless, sluggish. These were all Greg could think as he dodged Lung''s claws once more, the dragon-man taking odd gasping inhales of breath every fifth missed swipe. Greg didn''t doubt that his super strength was still insane but still, it seemed that even at a little over nine feet tall, the only real threat Greg had to fear from Lung''s body itself was the heat he gave off and his angry charges in a straight line, both extremely impressive and incredibly dangerous. Thing was, Greg was faster either way. Reinforced to the max and his reflexes leveling up like crazy throughout this fight, Greg was damn near dancing around Lung''s sloppy attempts at close quarters combat. The incredible irony here was that for all of Lung''s bulk, Greg was getting hurt far less at close range than he had trying to keep his distance from the living flamethrower. In fact, staying out of the way of the bugs as they made their way past him to swarm Lung was more of a challenge.
You have gained 1 SPD.
The blond grinned, Lung roaring once again at the mocking expression on the younger cape''s face. The flaming wreath around his body flared slightly, alerting Greg that he was about to explode, spreading his immolation aura once again. "GONNA GET MAGICAL UP IN HERE!" Greg screamed out, breaking character once more as he lost himself in the moment. Twisting and spinning out of the way of Lung''s slow berserking movements, Greg coated his sword in air, mind focused on something he''d been practicing. Dashing backward to avoid an errant swipe from Lung, Greg kicked off the softening asphalt and burst into the air, avoiding a dome-shaped burst of flame that melted the asphalt under his feet completely. Hurtling high over Lung''s head with streams of flame flying past him, Greg spun in mid-air and glanced downwards, his eyes meeting Lung''s glowing, furious gaze. The dragon man roared once more as Greg spotted a single wasp fly into his eye. Out of pain or frustration, Greg wasn''t sure. Still, wasn''t like it mattered anyway. He swung his weapon downwards, screaming at the top of his lungs. "WIND SCAR!" A tightly controlled crescent of wind left the edge of Greg''s blade and shot forwards Lung''s face. It struck true, Lung''s x-shaped mouth wrenching open into an ungodly screech of pain as his eyes burst open, the crescent of air acting like an extension of his blade. [CRITICAL HIT] "Get dunked on, Lung!" Greg dropped down, ducking Lung''s wild swing even as the air burned him, his reinforced armor already beginning to melt and char, enhanced plastic not meant for this sort of fight. -2 -2 -1 -3 Body defensively cloaked in as much air as he could muster, Greg brought his sword down like a two-handed warhammer, tearing a slit down Lung''s torso and stumbling the silver-scaled villain, forcing him back as boiling blood spilled from his guts. "Stop healing! I need you to go down for personal reasons!" Greg didn''t stop pressing his advantage, not now that he had Lung on the back foot. Slashing diagonally, he carved an X into Lung''s chest and brought his weapon back in a horizontal move, turning the X into a gruesome star. "Weapon Charge! Raging Combo! Raging Combo! Raging Combo! Raging Combo! Raging Combo!" Screaming at the top of his lungs, Greg rushed forward, diving under a furious, yet rather slow, swipe from Lung and began to swing his sword as fast as he could, slashing at Lung''s chest with wild abandon as he danced around the cape''s massive fists, paying no regard to the blood that began to paint his body. "Yeaah-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta!" [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT]
Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 10¡ú15 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 7¡ú10 Weapon Charge Level Up! 9¡ú14 Raging Combo Level Up! 2¡ú10
"WEAPON CHARGE!" Spinning around Lung to avoid a wild slash, Greg narrowly avoided the roiling firestorm that exploded from the front of Lung''s body. "I''m not gonna lose¡­ MY FIRST BOSS FIGHT!" Screaming, he lunged forward. "WIND SCAR!" The tip of the sword flared with a burst of air as it sunk into the center of Lung''s back, Greg entering Lung''s guts with little effort compared to before. Twisting the blade, Greg wrenched it from Lung''s back as the behemoth twisted again and roared like a beast, the fire roiling around him as it flared once¡­ twice¡­. Wrapping his body in a dome of air, Greg weathered the explosion even as the force of it knocked him away from Lung. Running through the already-fading barrier, Greg soared over Lung''s charging body and shot forward again, leaping as he shouted, "WEAPON CHARGE!" Greg''s reinforced blade met the back of Lung''s shoulder blades in a powerful slash as it sheared through his metallic scales, the blonde''s scream interrupted by a gush of steaming blood from the dragon-man''s body. It''s in my mouth!
Weapon Charge Level Up! 14¡ú15 Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 15¡ú16
-11 The shock from suddenly consuming some of Lung''s boiling blood knocked Greg off balance, sending him stumbling back with a hand to his throat, choking as it seared at his insides.
Heat Resistance Level Up! 14¡ú16
Nostrils flared as the slowly healing remnants of Lung''s eyes narrowed. In an instant, the dragon lunged. For a moment, Greg didn''t understand what was happening, his hand still on his throat as he was suddenly faced with far more pain than ever before, his insides screaming as he let out a choked gasp, seared flesh steaming as Lung''s burned fingers made their home inside him. Blue eyes opened wide in a mix of raw shock and intense pain as Lung flexed his fingers, his large claws doing the work of five blades in one movement. His mouth open, pained choking sounds were all that left Greg, his mind nearly frayed as he felt his insides wrench themselves apart under Lung''s claws. "...KIII¡­ YILL¡­ OOO." The words were slow, labored things, forced from Lung''s terrifying grinder of a mouth. Even through the crackled of flickering flames, Lung''s heavy, growling breaths and Greg''s choked screams, there was an audible shlick-shlick. A portion of Greg''s mind, the little of it that was still available to process conscious thought, realized that it was Lung''s claws digging around his stomach, the smell of cooking flesh his own. Oh. -151 -36 -25 -21 -30 -19 -12 -9
Piercing Resistance Level Up! 10¡ú20 Heat Resistance Level Up! 16¡ú21
Lung''s claws clenched and flexed with each syllable as he raised the blond to eye level using only the claws that impaled his body, orange fire-pits staring into dazed, almost unseeing, blue. With a harsh twist of his massive wrist, Lung sent the bleeding body flying, crashing violently through a still-standing wall of a fallen husk of a building too burnt to even be called such anymore. -21 -7 -4
Piercing Resistance Level Up! 20¡ú21 Blunt Force Resistance Level Up! 35¡ú36
An errant fireball struck the rubble surrounding the young cape''s body, turning his impromptu burial place into a pyre. Arms and head reared back, Lung roared his victory to the skies, a plume of flame exploding around him. The half-blind dragon cape turned his head, the sound of a feminine whimper catching his sensitive ears. He twisted, letting his senses lead him, his neck moving up and down as he tried to hunt for where that sound had come from. There had been more than one of them, Lung knew that. The bitch who had started all this, she was close. His nose flared in time with his tilting head, and Lung paused, his entire body remaining still for several long moments. The dragon turned once more, his one good eye landing on a rooftop. Down the street, a thin, gangly figure shivered as Lung caught sight of her. She whimpered for the second time, scrambling back onto the gravel lining the rooftop. He charged. Taylor Hebert had no idea what to do as she stood there on the rooftop, simply watching as Lung impaled the same cape that had risked everything to save her stupid life. Part of her felt like something was breaking inside of her, her last vestige of hope shattering like so much glass. He had been so heroic, so confident, so... young. Seeing someone her age give it his all and just die like that¡­ It hurt. As she watched Lung throw a flaming missile from his hand, setting alight the place the young cape had landed, she let out an unintended whimper and froze as Lung''s head turned, snakelike neck twisting to face her direction. His massive bulk shifted around, neck undulating slowly on Lung''s massive, scaled body. He was searching for something¡­ someone. For several long seconds, he tilted his head from side to side, only to suddenly snap to his right, single glowing eye blazing. Taylor couldn''t help but whimper, unconsciously stepping backwards as Lung locked on to her, his expression telling her he hadn''t forgotten who she was. Lung''s body was still aflame, hot enough that most of her bugs weren''t getting anywhere, their options to reach him limited to the few moments where his fire would ebb. Even as they died in droves, despite the fact she knew it was pointless, futile, she still sent them in droves. Like the massive beast he was, Lung charged. Eyes wide and breathing heavy, Taylor scrambled back, deciding to simply leap off the three-story building, regardless of the consequences. She had barely managed to move a single meter when the building rocked as something big, something powerful slammed into it, sending tremors through the structure and dropping her to her hands and knees. A moment later, clawed hands and feet appeared at the edge of the building, tearing apart the concrete and gravel of the rooftop as Lung pulled himself up in a single bound. With a thunderous shaking, he landed on top of the roof as Taylor held her breath, trembling as she stared up at Lung for the second time that night. He was slightly bigger than the last time they were on a rooftop, although not as big as he seemed against Prodigy about a minute ago. In some places, his scales were already fading and his neck, nowhere near as long, seemed to be much stiffer. Wounds still littered his body, his eyes and chest the most gruesome examples of that and his shoulders almost seemed flayed, with the scales almost nonexistent in place of the pink flesh below it. Lung''s hand opened out, and like so many other times before, Taylor could see the beginnings of a firestorm growing in his palm. The heat was oppressive, powerful enough to make her sweat even as nothing more than a basketball-sized sphere. She gulped, blinking as she stared up into the face of a merciless villain, Lung''s monstrous mouth drawn back in his approximation of a grin. A third whimper fought it''s way past her unwilling lips. "DIE." Before Lung could let go of the ball of flames, a voice interrupted him, drawing his attention. A voice that made Taylor''s eyes widen even further in disbelief. "OI! SCALY BOI!" The flaming rubble where Lung had hurled the young cape into exploded outwards as Prodigy suddenly burst into the air. Glowing gold, he held his sword out in front of him in one hand while the other seemed to hold a half-eaten candy bar, several wrappers falling from the same hand. Taylor blinked. What? "Not dead yet!" The blond screamed out, taking a hurried bite of the bar as he sailed up into the air. "Next time, bring your A Game!" His trajectory suddenly - impossibly - changed, shifting from vertical to diagonal in an explosive burst of wind as he plunged down towards the roof. Towards Lung. Roaring wildly, his eyes lit with manic rage, Lung let the blast of fire in his hand go. The simple ball became an intense jet of fire, bursting forth as if intensified by Lung''s intense hate for the cape in the air. Taylor''s eyes widened as she scrambled back on the quickly collapsing roof, desperately holding on to the rooftop entrance as the building began to crumble beneath her feet. How? How is he alive? Her question went unanswered as the cape slashed his sword, a massive burst of wind shooting from it that met Lung''s jet head on. The blast of fire partially diverted, a wide portion of it engulfing the cape''s lower body as he let out a strangled scream. "Dash¡­ Straight!" In a burst of wind, Prodigy burst from the fire, Taylor''s mouth opening wide as she caught sight of his legs, the lower body of his costume charred and melted. He plunged down, surrounded by golden light, his sword slashing apart Lung''s fingers as he tried to blast him again.
Dash Straight Level Up! 8¡ú11 Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 16¡ú19
Landing with a crash, another groan of pain burst from the cape''s lips but his body only flared gold again and he launched himself towards Lung, somehow maintaining his balance on the crumbling rooftop even as Lung scrambled to keep himself standing. The dragon cape lunged forward, murder clear in his one remaining eye. Prodigy''s sword flashed out, metal glowing gold in his grip. With a sound of screeching metal and a scream of "WEAPON CHARGE!", Lung''s throat opened and blood spilt forth. Even as the roof shook apart, Prodigy''s sword flitted around Lung''s body in a series of golden and blue flashes. "Raging Combo! Raging Combo!" [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT] [CRITICAL HIT]
Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 19¡ú22 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Level Up! 10¡ú13 Weapon Charge Level Up! 15¡ú17 Raging Combo Level Up! 10¡ú13
"THAT BONUS!" the cape screamed out, grabbing the hilt with both hands and lifting the shining blade above his head. Lung bellowed and reared forward. "IS MINE!" The sword came down. [CRITICAL HIT] As the middle of the building began to split apart, Taylor closed her eyes and leapt for safety. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C (Thirty Seconds Later) Throat sore from smoke and screaming, Greg pulled his blade free from Lung''s stomach with a sickening shlick sound. The building around them had fallen apart completely, Greg having landed the last hit to Lung as they fell to the street below, a powerful two-handed [Weapon Charge]-enhanced slash that nearly lopped off Lung''s right shoulder. The fall had been icing on the cake, allowing him more momentum to plunge the sword deeper into the dragon cape.
Swordplay: Single Blade Level Up! 22¡ú25
Wiping his face with a dirty glove, he let out a shaky breath and began to move. Stumbling away from Lung''s unmoving body, Greg plunged the sword into the asphalt, the still-reinforced blade flaring with a soft yellow glow as it sunk into the street. Legs finally giving out from under him as sheer pain overrode his desire to keep moving, Greg cancelled the reinforcement on the rest of his body and sunk to the ground. The fall, soft as it was, jostled his wound, Greg''s hand rising to his stomach as blood continued to flow in constant rivulets. A soft statement of "Inventory" left his mouth and Greg''s hand disappeared into thin air, several wrapped food items falling out. Several soft ping sounds caught his attention and Greg lifted his head, the action more mentally exhausting than anything physical.
+85000 XP Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. +Dragon Scale x 108 +Dragon Blood x 100 +Dragon Eye +Bar of Gold
Quest Success! "A Knight''s Duty I: Draw Aggro" Completed! Gained 20 Stat Points Gained 5 Perk Points Gained 100000 XP Gained 5 STR Gained 5 SPD Gained 10 VIT Gained $20000 Gained Perk [Dragon Blood''s Gift] Bonus Objective: Gained 10 Stat Points, Gained 5 Perk Points, Gained 5 SPD, Gained 50000 XP, Unlocked Trait "Dragon-Blooded", Unlocked Trait "Dragon-Souled", Gained Skill "Basic Pyrokinesis", Gained Perk "Fire Dragon''s Aura" Quest Success! "I need A Meatshield I: Protect Thine Lady" Completed! Gained 5 Stat Points Gained 1 Perk Point Gained 20000 XP Gained 5 VIT Gained 20 to [Blunt Force Resistance] Gained 25 to [Heat Resistance] Bonus Objective: Gained 10000 XP, Gained 2 SPD, Gained 1 Perk Point, Gained Perk: Bulwark
Level Up x 11! You are now Level 19. You gained 28 Stat Points. You gained 2 Perk Points.
New Skill(s) Gained! Reinforcement Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second. (x 5 top Reinforced SPD/STR) Cost: 15 Will, 10 HP Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 1 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 2 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range.
Perk Gained! Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] "Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame" At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level.
Title(s) Unlocked! Dragon-Blooded Knight My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. Title grants +10% overall Damage Resistance in addition to all regular resistances one has with an additional 10% resistance to fire, +10 to VIT, + 5 to STR, + 100 to Health and +50% Damage against any creature bearing the form of [Dragon]. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Trait(s) Unlocked! Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses 50)
Named Weapon Created! Gram: Bastard Sword Lv Max Forged by the flames of a dragon''s breath, molded in battle against a scaled demon, and cooled in the blood of the same dragon, this sword represents the ideal of a true dragon slaying knight. +50% [Slashing] Damage +50% [Piercing] Damage +250% Damage to all [Dragons] +25 to [Parry Ability] +25% [Bleed-out] length +25 STR Sword Skill: Dragon Slaying Shockwave By calling out the name of the sword while fueling it with mana, you unleash a powerful shockwave that is only as strong as the power you put into it.
Spoiler: Perks (NEW)
Choosable Perks Acoustic License You don''t have to be so loud. Whenever someone is speaking to you within hearing distance, you can hear them as if they were right next to you. Cost: 1 Perk Point Darkvision Lv Max [Skill] It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Cost: 1 Perk Point Developed Mind (0/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Cost: 1 Perk Point Growing Will (0/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Cost: 1 Perk Point High Speed Incantation What was that? I didn''t catch that. If you so choose, you can say a skill name in the space of about a second. However, anyone listening will hear it as gibberish if you want them to. Otherwise, they will interpret it to be heard as if you said the full thing in real time. Cost: 1 Perk point Pulling Out All The Stops (0/10) [Ranked Skill] Go beyond the limits... Limit Break! For 1 minute, your Will and MP is unlimited. However, your HP drops to 0 after exactly sixty seconds. Cost: 2 Perk Points Rabbit of Caerbannog (0/5)[Ranked Ability] No ordinary rabbit. You do 10% more damage against anyone who underestimates you. Cost: 1 Perk Point Strength Path Invulnerable Knuckles "MY FISTS, THEY ARE MADE OF STEEL!" While you still feel the pain, you no longer take damage when exerting your strength against something more durable than you are. Cost: 1 Perk Point Stand n'' Strike "You can come to me." Remaining in one place, you hit 10% harder against any opponent while taking 10% less physical damage. Cost: 1 Perk Point Savior''s Strength "Catch me as I fall!" If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Cost: 2 Perk Points Speed Path Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Cost: 2 Perk Points Wall Jump Drive yourself up a wall Whenever you consciously choose to spring up a wall, you instinctively begin to wall jump without fear of falling. Cost: 1 Perk Point Unnecessary Combat Roll "Unnecessary: (adj.) not necessary." Whenever you attempt to dodge an attack by rolling or diving, you take 10% less damage if it hits. Cost: 1 Perk Point Vitality Path Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Cost: 1 Perk Points Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Cost: 2 Perk Points Mind and Matter The mind is what separates a body from a corpse. Meditation now recovers Health at the same rate as Willpower and Mana. Cost: 1 Perk point
Discarded wrappers of beef jerky and protein bars lay at his side, completely empty, while his mouth was a mess of crumbs and chocolate stains. Greg looked down from the boxes in front of him, his gaze tracking to the glowing sword in front of him, the hilt having transformed almost entirely into gold, leaving a single strip of blue where it connected to the handguard. "Gram." The word was strange on his lips, sounding both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. His lips; grimy, bleeding and littered with crumbs, quirked up into a smile. His body wracked with pain, Greg threw his head back and let out an exhausted, wheezing, victorious laugh. "I. Regret. NOTHING!" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 1510/32000
Health 192/1207 (+20)
Mana 90/475
Willpower 145/448 (+3)
STR 59 (+2) SPD 52 (+2) (+2)
VIT 59 (+2) INT 39
WIS 13 (-80%) CHA 17 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 63
Perk Points: 14
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 1 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 2 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second.
  • (x 5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 15 Will, 10 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 45%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 50%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 14(XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reflexes and reactions by 10% per level. (120%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 15%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv10 (XP: 20%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.8 Aggro 4.8 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "You''re¡­ alive?" The bug girl''s voice was raspy, the dense smoke in the air obviously clogging her airways. Even then, Greg could hear the sheer disbelief in her voice as she limped over to him, one arm wrapped around her midsection. Lady Bug visibly flinched as she caught sight of the body next to Greg, the bloody, slowly healing form of a near-human Lung as the silver scales began to slough off his skin. Greg cut off his laughter and slowly turned his head to face her. A hand rose to his face, Greg wiping the remaining crumbs from his mouth as he tried to think of something to say, staring blankly at her cracked lenses. It was a struggle, really, and that was without any exaggeration. The pain in his chest, courtesy of Lung''s claws, was only made worse by the fact that he could literally feel the blood leaving his body, his health slowly dropping with every second. His legs, or at least the parts of them that didn''t survive Lung''s flames unscathed, were also a testament to how hard-fought the battle was. Reinforced cloth and plastic had warped and melted onto the bare skin underneath, adding on a [Second-Degree Burn] debuff in addition to the [Moderate Bleeding V] that was draining his life-force so steadily. Hell, if it wasn''t for that new perk he had just chosen, he''d definitely be a goner by now. "You''re alive," she echoed, raw shock clear in her voice. "Sorry¡­ to¡­ disappoint," he forced out, wincing. "No!" She shouted, her voice as uncomfortable as her posture with the way she seemed to shrink in on herself. "I-I just thought you¡­ died. Lung¡­ his claws¡­ the fire¡­" Yeah, Greg thought, gasping slightly as he shifted his body. Blocking a blast of fire like that with his unfocused aerokinesis was definitely not one of his brightest ideas. Launching himself directly at Lung''s face a moment after recovering a sizeable yet still middling fraction of his health had been a new level of retarded, something he wasn''t aware he was capable of reaching. Still, he thought to himself, breath coming to him in short, shallow gasps, I saved the girl. Not all bad, right? He gave the girl in question a smile, utterly uncaring of how the blood splatter all over him may have made him appear to the insect-themed cape. "Yeah, the fire. Figured¡­ figured only one of us was a Brute, so¡­" The bug girl didn''t respond, simply staring at him through those creepy lenses. "''Sides¡­ Ev¡­ everybody gets one." Greg gave a shrug, wincing at how the drop of his shoulders seemed to send spasms of pain through his ribcage for some reason. I''m gonna feel this in the morning¡­ or not, I guess. Thank you, Gamer''s Body. "Really?" "... No." Greg grit his teeth with pain again, trying to pass it off as a grin. "Joke. Family Guy¡­ June Sixth. Two-thousand." "... Oh." "Yeah... classic episode." Greg let out another wheezing laugh again, his own joke getting him. "I can''t¡­ ," the bug girl cut herself off, her body language somehow conveying a mix of gratitude and shame, "you... let yourself get hurt to¡­ to save me?" "I wouldn''t say¡­ that, exactly," Greg replied, dragging himself forward with the sword he had planted blade-first into the asphalt. "I didn''t think about it. My body just¡­ acted on it''s own," he blinked, smiling slightly for a single moment at his own reference, "Besides... what kinda jerk... would just watch a girl die?" "So, you knew you wouldn''t die, right?" She seemed to be almost pleading, her legs bowed as she tried to get closer to him without quite squatting low to the ground. "You knew you''d be¡­" Her head turned to glance at his charred legs, the costume still smoking in the cool night air, "...fine." "No..." Another pained laugh spilled from Greg''s throat, the sound more like a hoarse cough than anything else. A second hand gripped onto the hilt of his sword and he found himself leaning on it from his position on the floor. "... I didn''t." Lady Bug seemed to slump slightly, unsure of what to say as she sunk to the ground next to him, sitting on a large clump of bricks apathetically. "If it''s any consolation," he glanced up at Lady Bug''s mask, "it does hurt like hell, yes. Just not as much as it should." The truth of that statement could not be exaggerated. Anyone else in his position should be one of three things right now; screaming their head off, numb from blood loss, or dead. By all rights, he probably had to thank his powers for whatever it was doing right now to keep him thinking relatively straight. Although, Greg thought to himself, I could be the second. Still, he doubted it. "It''s¡­ it''s not." She seemed to give off a full-body finch as she spoke the short sentence, Greg letting out a quick, hoarse bark of laughter as the pain in his legs flared in time with her words. Ironically, that seemed to make her flinch again. "That''s great," he paused for a moment, groaning as the skin on his legs began to quiver, burned flesh slowly sloughing off as the healing process continued, "I¡­ I guess. Don''t worry, though. I''m healing up fine. Be good as new in under an hour or four?¡­ fuck."He said the last part in an undertone, trying to avoid scaring the newly christened Lady Bug anymore than she already was. "Why?" "What?" Greg blinked slowly at the question, confused for a moment as to what she was referring to. She didn''t repeat herself, her hands wrapping around her mid-section and tightening as if in some kind of self-hug. Funnily, to Greg, it kind of removed any lingering fear factor her costume had for him, seeing the wearer so nervous and unsure of herself. "Honestly, I¡­ have no idea," Greg spoke up, smiling slightly. He closed his eyes for a moment, shifting his arms away from his slowly-sealing chest wound and pulled tighter on the sword he had plunged into the ground. "Normally, I''m all about that zero accountability life but¡­ yeah, burning is a¡­" he paused, smile fading slightly, "painful way to go. Couldn''t let that happen¡­ you know." Chuckling again, Greg looked up at Lady Bug, a wide grin beneath his slightly melted mask. "At least you''re okay, though. That''s¡­ the good part." "I almost died." The sentence came out of nowhere, Greg blinking in surprise this time rather than pain. "Well, yeah." She tilted her head toward him, her mask displaying no emotion and leaving Greg floundering somewhat as he tried to think past the pain. "Well, it''s true." "Thanks." There was no hiding the sarcasm in that, no matter how quietly the actual word was spoken. "Not like¡­ forget it." Greg shook his head, his hands rising to the hilt of his sword and grabbing tight. "Don''t¡­ don''t." Groaning, he grabbed hold of the sword and began to pull himself to his feet, slowly. The blond let out a hiss of air as he felt the the burnt skin on his legs cracking as he began to put weight on them. Closing his eyes, he did his best to ignore the odd sensation of rivulets of liquid dripping out of his leg wounds as he got to his feet, not wanting to spend the time to even contemplate exactly what could be running down his thighs. Opening his mouth, the word came out with a low hiss. "Reinforcement." He kept the level of it low, just enough to let him stand and move without too much trouble, not for any sort of daring-do. The skill was like a balm, a soothing warmth that spread all over his body, slightly easing the pain he felt from both his legs and his chest wound. As low as it was, the glow wasn''t even visible, which was even better. A much more relaxed smile on his face, Greg pulled himself up to his full height and rested both hands on Gram''s hilt, the newly-named sword still lodged in the asphalt. "My lady," he began, voice somewhat steadier with the constant pain at a much lower level. He stretched out his slightly deformed gauntlet, opening his hand for Lady Bug to take as he slipped into his well-polished accent. "You performed valiantly, especially against a foe so fearsome as the one which we faced together. You would have died without my assistance as would have I without yours. Now, will you take my hand so we may kindly make our escape before the dragon awakens once more?" Lady Bug nodded slowly and placed her hand in his, Greg quickly pulling her light frame up with barely any effort. He tilted his head to glance down at Lung''s tattooed form, the cape''s naked body sans scales, before glancing back up at Lady Bug again. "Hold up¡­ wanna take a selfie with Lung?" The question came out quickly even in his hoarse voice, Greg simply saying the first thing on his mind the moment he glanced at Lung''s body. "What." She almost pushed away from him, her hand freezing before she made contact with his slightly deformed, blood-splattered breastplate. Instead, she simply stood there holding his hand and repeated the same word. "What." Greg shrugged slightly, his shoulders bobbing as his smile grew. "Yeah, I mean, why not, right? I need a new PHO pic. ''Sides, how many people can say they got a selfie with Lung and lived to tell about it? Emphasis on lived." "N¡­" For a moment, she seemed to be thinking about it, her head tilting slightly before she shook it. "That''s a terrible idea." "Really?" Now, it was Greg''s turn to tilt his head. "Somehow worse than attacking Lung by yourself with bugs?" At his words, Lady Bug flinched, prompting Greg to frown slightly as she shrunk away from him slightly, letting go of his hand. Blinking slightly, Greg stepped forward. "What''s wrong? Yeah, it was a dumb plan but¡­ I mean, I''ve had dumber. Well," he pursed his lips, "not dumber. Definitely not nearly as dumb either. I mean, this was Lung we''re talking about," Greg remarked, gesturing to the unconscious Asian man off to the side. "Still, relatively dumb." Smiling, Greg glanced back at Lady Bug, the cape silently staring at him from behind her mask. She seemed almost unsure of what to do, her arms tight around herself once again. Greg lifted an eyebrow, noting a few bugs beginning to make noise in the background as they skittered back to their hiding places. "So¡­ we doing this or not?" Before the girl could answer, Greg froze as he heard something clambering towards them and glanced around them, the sounds of flickering flames making it hard to triangulate the source of the sound. Lady Bug obviously heard it too, the girl suddenly drawing closer to him. Around them, bugs began to drone. Suddenly, three massive creatures hit the asphalt. Greg''s eyes widened behind his mask and he wrenched his sword from the ground, and protectively moved in front of Lady Bug, mouth set in a determined frown. Massive barely described the beasts. At least a good seven feet tall at the shoulder, they were covered in spikes and stained, bloody-looking bone spurs, with their visible skin looking like well-tenderized hamburger meat. Their mouths were open wide, disgustingly large amounts of saliva dripping from their rather sharp teeth as they growled at the two of them. Oddly, Greg didn''t feel the least bit threatened. He did feel annoyed, though. Incredibly. Annoyed. Still, he didn''t let the annoyance rise to the surface, his mind trying to focus on how to beat three of these things while keeping Lady Bug alive. She was his responsibility and unlike the pet goldfish he had when he was nine, he wasn''t gonna let her die after knowing her for less than half an hour. Legs burnt to a crisp or not, he could [Reinforce] them into fighting shape for at least a few minutes. He just fought Lung and wasn''t dead, so Greg definitely wouldn''t let himself go down to a bunch of demonic things. Not if he could help it, at least. "Holy shit, did you kill Lung?" Greg frowned at the voice, both at the question and wondering where it had come from. His gaze slowly, reluctantly, rose until he spotted the four figures riding the monsters, his eyes widening as he took them in. "No," his mouth answered for him, his eyes locking on to the skinny teen wearing a poofy shirt and a white opera mask, realizing he was the one who asked the question. I know this guy. Lady Bug remained silent. "He''s just knocked out," Greg continued, keeping one eye on the dogs as he tried to shake off the faint feeling of familiarity he seemed to be getting from not just the white masked cape but all four of the capes in front of him. "And a bit busted up," he added, rather downplaying the collection of slowly-recovering wounds that littered the Asian cape''s naked body. "Looks like you gutted him." The next voice was from the girl¡­ boy?... muscular individual on the creature next to the opera boy, a person wearing a plastic dog mask, like the type you''d get from the dollar store. Whoever they were, their voice was gruff enough that he doubted he could tell their sex with it on. "He did," came the third voice, a blonde girl, finally speaking up. She wore a domino mask and a dark purple costume, her eyes staring past the two of them to lock on to Lung''s still-healing body. "That sword¡­ all the blood¡­" Her voice became slightly distant at this point, "... severed Lung''s axillary vein, cut out an eye, flayed him in several places, ripped open his stomach¡­ and that''s not even going into all the bee stings and insect bites. " Her pensive expression transformed into a knowing smile as she shifted her gaze onto Greg, her eyes glancing at his sword for a moment, before glancing back at him, "Wow, you''re one ruthless kid." "And you''re¡­ Tattletale." The word left his mouth as a smile grew across his face as well, sudden realization hitting him as Greg recalled where he knew these guys from. The four of them were a new villain team that had popped up not too long ago in the city, mostly known for robbing other villains and other small-time stuff. Undersiders. "Oooh, looks like Tats has a fanboy," the white masked cape, Regent, cooed. Greg frowned at the same time as Tattletale''s smile brightened. "Not exactly, Regent." "Not exactly is right," Greg interjected, his grip tightening on his sword. The hilt and guard was already glowing a soft gold, even without Greg having even reinforced it yet, the blade itself more lustrous than he''d ever seen it. "I know her, I know all of you, because I edit your wikis on PHO, even though someone keeps trying to change it." "Ha! He''s a nerd!" Regent crowed, raising his scepter as he let out a cackling laugh. "A fuckin'' nerd, Tats! Who edits wikis in their off time? Fuckin'' nerds, that''s who!" Both Tattletale and Greg scowled at Regent''s sentence, both for clearly different reasons. "That nerd cut Lung up with a sword, Regent." Greg''s grip tightened again. "This nerd has a name." Their leader, Grue, a well-muscled cape who dressed to fit his powers, was the next to speak, his voice deep and low. "What is it? Your name, I mean." Greg tilted his head to face him, just barely spotting the outline of a skull on his biker mask. "Glad you asked, Mr. Zork. The name''s Prodigy and this here," Greg said with a gesture behind himself, "is my partner, Lady Bug. Lady Bug, these guys are the Undersiders." He paused, gesturing to the one in black. "The boss, Grue," his hand moved to the girl in purple, "The Thinker, Tattletale." The girl in question wiggled her fingers at them as he moved to the one in white, "Regent, and finally," he paused, turning to the girl in the dog mask. "Hell-" "Bitch." Greg blinked as she interjected. "Really?" "Mmhmm," Tattletale hummed affirmatively as she leaned forward on the dog-beast, her gaze locked on to him. "She prefers Bitch." Ignoring the painful twinge in his stomach, Greg shrugged. "Sure, why not? A bit¡­ much, but okay." Sensing that the situation was no longer quite as volatile, Lady Bug stepped out from behind his back, the sound of swarming insects fading to nothing as she calmed down. "Hey." "Hey there," Tattletale''s smile quirked upwards at the Bug Girl''s words. "Thanks for taking care of Lung. Tonight could have ended badly for us." For us? "For us?" Greg echoed. He blinked rapidly as he took a few steps forward, barely noticing the monsters in his path as he stared daggers at Tattletale. "Lung was after you guys?" "Yes." Grue nodded hesitantly, his voice slightly less forceful than before. "He was, yes. Thanks for taking him down. It couldn''t have been easy." Greg stared at him for a few moments, his mouth slightly open, before he let out a bark of wheezing laughter. "Yeah, you''re right. It wasn''t. I mean, the fire gave me a mad case of dry eye but other than that," Greg retorted, letting out another hoarse laugh, " I can sleep it off. Got off pretty easy, all things considered." "Your legs look like hamburger," Bitch cut in, voice little more than a growl. Shooting her a look, Greg snapped back, "So do your dogs, but at least, I''m nice enough not to mention it." The girl growled at him, her dogs following her lead. Rolling his eyes, Greg chose to ignore her, turning back to Grue. "In all honesty, it could have been a lot worse. Luckily," Greg''s mouth opened into a slight smile as he put an arm around Lady Bug''s shoulder, pulling her forward slightly even as she tried to wriggle out of his grip, "I had my partner here on support." "I can see that," Tattletale spoke up, grinning. "She did a good job too. A couple hundred bites and stings to the crotch alone would keep anyone off their game. Although," she glanced back at Greg, eyes locked on to the sword in his grip, her eyes flicking between it and him, "you and that sword¡­wait... what is that?" Her voice came out in almost a whisper, her smile shriveling the longer she stared at him. "My sword?" Greg glanced at the blade, idly lifting it closer to eye level, before glancing back at the Thinker cape, blinking in confusion as she pressed her thumbs to her temples. "My powers make it glow different colors sometimes, I guess. What of it?" "Huh," Tattletale shook her head furiously, one eye open as she kept staring, almost as if she couldn''t tear her eyes away from either him or the object in his hands. "I¡­ I don''t¡­" She blinked, both eyes opening for a second before she shut one tightly again, leaving the other fixated on Greg. "... doesn''t make sense¡­ concepts?" "Tattletale," Grue''s voice seemed to relax it''s impressive baritone, the cape actually sounding worried about his teammate. "What''s wrong?" "Yeah, Tats," Regent cut in, the humor in his tone still present. "You fried your brain or something?" Bitch said nothing, simply turning her masked face to stare at Tattletale as her dogs idled beneath her, obviously uncomfortable at being still. A twinge at Greg''s side brought attention to the pain in his ribs and still-healing chest, Lady Bug''s gentle prodding far more painful than she realized. He turned to face the girl at his side, her black hair blowing in the gentle breeze as she whispered a sentence. "These guys¡­ They don''t seem like¡­ heroes." Greg opened his mouth to quietly affirm her correct assumption that the Undersiders were not, in fact, heroes of any sort only to find himself unable to speak, his eyes widening in shock. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The words froze on his lips as the cute-looking blonde let out a strangled, choking scream, sounding for all the world to hear as if someone was trying to kill her. A moment later, her hands flew to her head, the rest of her suddenly going limp as she fell bodily off the giant monster dog. Everyone froze as Tattletale''s body hit the ground with full-force, her hands not instinctively moving out to break her fall like one would expect. In unison, their gazes locked on to the Thinker as she twitched wildly on the ground, limbs spasming as she foamed at the mouth. Four masked faces turned to face him in eerie synchronization, the atmosphere suddenly taking on a much more serious tone, the beasts'' growling only adding to the tension. Suddenly struck with nerves, Greg let out another hoarse laugh and said the only thing that came to mind at the moment, his grip tightening on Gram as he spoke. "So¡­ does she do that often or...?" Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 1510/32000
Health 181/1207 (+20)
Mana 99/475
Willpower 158/448 (+3)
STR 59 (+2) SPD 52 (+2) (+2)
VIT 59 (+2) INT 39
WIS 13 (-80%) CHA 17 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 63
Perk Points: 14
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 1 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 2 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second.
  • (x 5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 15 Will, 10 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 45%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 5 (XP: 75%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 50%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 14(XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reflexes and reactions by 10% per level. (120%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 15%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 20%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Aggro 4.9 Aggro 4.9 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg stumbled down the street in full costume, the gaping wound in his chest and the bite wounds on his shoulder seemingly held at bay by the massive amount of food he had shoved into his mouth. Flesh rippled on his torso, his skin literally shifting underneath his clothes as his health slowly ticked back upwards. The fact that his health had a cap, an easily quantifiable number, felt so limiting. Ironically, now more than ever, he felt so weak. Still, with blood pooling on the inside of his costume and his skin literally flaking off in pieces, he continued moving. His body was still in a state of limbo, really. With two major debuffs draining his recovering health and the food he''d eaten ticking it back up, his health constantly bounced between double and triple digits, at most gaining one or two points every minute or so. Greg couldn''t help but be thankful for that small victory, despite how close he was to keeling over. It actually took him a while to appreciate the irony. Almost anyone else would have died within seconds and here he was, nearly five minutes later, complaining about pain. It was almost insane that he ran so far, really. A miracle that he was walking now, too, even with using all his Will this entire time to reinforce his legs enough to use. The least armored part of his costume, the part he had slipped up and forgot to reinforce as heavily as he did the rest of his suit, they had fared the worst. His shoes were basically non-existent at this point, the cheap boots overlaid with silvery plastic simply a burnt mess by now. Parts of his leg barely avoided being turned into a burnt mess thanks to the minor Reinforcement that he had managed to apply onto his knee and shin guards. Everything else, protected by flaps of cloth and a pair of blue pants, was most likely a mess. He didn''t dare to remove the partially melted plastic to actually see what lay underneath. He already knew that the [Second-Degree Burn] was the primary reason his health continued to occasionally dip, and that was bad enough That and the [Moderate Bleeding V]. His wounds, though; The pain refused to vanish, the subtle balm that was reinforcement doing almost nothing at this point¡­ why? It didn''t make sense to him. A lot didn''t make sense to him right now, of course. The pain made it hard to think for the most part and Gamer''s Mind wasn''t taking the pain away like he expected, apart from a mild dulling. Why? He didn''t know. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he had escaped from Lung and just a few minutes after, he had managed to chase of the rest of those fucking Undersiders. His chest and arm still hurt too, vaguely, but nowhere near as much as his legs. Still, he was healing¡­ he shouldn''t be hurting. None of tonight made sense. None of it. All he was out here for was to practice his powers near the Boat Graveyard but he didn''t even get that far before he got caught up in a boss fight. A bug cape, who he tentatively named Lady Bug, had gotten it into her head to fight Lung for some reason, and somehow he had gotten caught up in the middle of that. He couldn''t let her die too, so he had to help. Had to. Like a fucking spaz. Despite being aware that it was damn near a death sentence, he helped her fight Lung and look what it had gotten him. They had won¡­ well, he had won. She did help, though. Oh sure, he had leveled up and that was almost worth the mental trauma of having claws shoved through your chest but then¡­ Greg groaned slightly, his weak reinforcement no longer even easing his pain in the slightest. Those fucking villains who apparently were Lung''s targets in the first place had decided to let them fight Lung in their place. Then, they attacked him. Him, the guy who was retarded enough to help them, had been attacked simply because their shitty thinker decided to sperg out. How was it his fault she had a seizure or what? That wasn''t even something he knew how to do! Moments after escaping Lung, he had to engage some giant demon dogs, a literal Bitch, and a shitty asshole with a nerdy cape name and powers that were far too similar to Shadow Stalker for his comfort. His still-healing wounds had been agitated enough to get slightly worse, too. All that stress, and not even a quest or XP for it. It wasn''t fair! It wasn''t right! He just wanted to help regular people and he ended up helping villains! And Lady Bug... Well, she tried to help but the dogs didn''t really respond the same way to her swarm as Lung did. One of the dogs tried to turn her into a meal, the one ridden by Bitch herself, forcing Greg to reinforce himself enough to shoulder check it out of the way. Another fight broke out then and there, Grue sending out a cloud of darkness as he tried to pick up Tattletale only to be overwhelmed by Lady Bug''s swarm. Regent didn''t even bother getting down from his dog beast, so Greg didn''t pay him much attention, his focus on avoiding the sharp teeth and spikes from Bitch''s multiple dogs. Greg wasn''t actually sure what the white wearing villain was trying to accomplish, considering all he seemed to do was wave that scepter of his for no reason. Even as Greg dodged, he kept his teeth gritted, nearly hissing with each single movement. Every motion pulled at his wounds, the pain causing his limbs to spasm on occasion the more he moved, threatening to increase both the pain and the penalty to his health. Everything came to a head when a particularly strong spasm caught him off guard. His right arm had jerked to the side, allowing one of the monsters to nearly take a chunk out of him, its jaws grazing the plastic armor that covered his shoulder. Sword in hand, Greg cut a deep gash into the side of the dog with a gory spray of blood, the dog retreating as Greg advanced on it with an angry flurry that probably hurt him nearly as much as it hurt the Lung-sized demon dog. Rather than risk her demonspawn getting too hurt, the girl quickly recalled them back to her. Regent, clinging tightly to the back of his mount, had no problems escaping with Bitch, the white-masked cape letting out a dramatic and purposely effeminate scream as they took off. The fight had left Greg with his wounds reopening, health dropping dangerously quickly as he tried to ignore the pain even while reinforced. Unwilling to risk another fight, Greg began to backpedal away from the scene as he spotted Lady Bug stabbing a downed Grue with some pen-like object in her hand. He raised a hand to his mouth, about to call out to Lady Bug to leave Grue alone and follow him when he spotted something heading towards them and quickly turned the corner into an alley. It was a futuristic-looking and undeniably familiar motorcycle approaching the bug cape and the three prone forms of Grue, Tattletale and Lung around her. As he peeked from around the edge of the alley, Greg''s eyes widened as he realized who he had just seen, the blue Tinker armor of the rider in front and the military fatigues of the one behind him instantly recognizable to any Brocktonite with two working eyes. Armsmaster, Greg mouthed to himself. And Miss Militia. A blurry figure in all red rushed up behind Armsmaster''s bike, the scarlet form zipping around Lady Bug and the three prone figures on the ground. Velocity? Shaking his head, Greg moved back deeper into the alley, doing his best to keep out of sight as Miss Militia hopped off the back of Armsmaster''s bike and began to talk to Lady Bug, Velocity middling behind her as Armsmaster sprayed down Lung with a thick foam-like material before moving on to both Grue and Tattletale. This wasn''t how he wanted to make his debut to a couple of big-time capes like the three of them, costume covered in blood, soot and grime and the rest of him looking like hell. Not to mention being exhausted, dead on his feet and low on health, mana and will overall. All in all, he doubted he would make the best of first impressions. So, with reassurance that Lady Bug was in good hands, Greg took off again, using what little reinforcement his body could handle to keep himself mobile. The longer he kept moving, Greg slowly began to become more aware that he couldn''t go home like this. Not yet, at least. Leaking blood and legs burnt to a crisp, the mess he would leave behind him would be insane, not to mention the smell of burnt flesh would pervade the house. How would he explain himself to his mom in the morning? What could he say? With a shake of his head, Greg just continued moving, assuming that he''d figure out something when he got there. Either way, he wasn''t too far from home at this point, at least in his opinion. Technically speaking, the entrance to his neighborhood, just a bit of distance from Captain''s Hill, was about six miles away from the Docks, in a straight line. A normal person taking that path would make it in roughly two hours walking at about a normal speed. If Greg sat down and let his legs heal a bit, he could do it in about twenty minutes at his own leisurely pace. Thing was, he didn''t really feel like sitting down anywhere, considering the flames from the Docks were still visible from where he stood, orange flares lighting up the night sky in places. That was just asking to be spotted by a firefighter, cop or a Protectorate cape out on patrol. As he walked down an empty side-street by the edge of the Docks, Greg kept his head down, his arms tucked by his sides so as not agitate his wounds even further with any sudden movement. Biting his lip, Greg bit back a groan as he felt a twinge from his leg, nearly making him stumble from the sudden burst of pain. Bracing his arm against a wall, Greg let out a wince as he leaned against it, his chest wound protesting the sudden movement. "Hey, there." Greg froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he heard the familiar booming voice. Eyes snapped up to the rooftops around him, searching frantically for the person that called out to him. "Down here." His gaze dropped, heart falling into his stomach as his head turned directly to the source of the voice. A moment later, a tall figure walked out of the darkness of a side alley, burly hands over his bare chest as his chains moved ever-so-slightly, pushed by the wind. "How''s it going?" "... Good." What now? "You look kinda shaky there. You doing okay?" Stormtiger''s grin seemed to widen, growing as Greg''s remaining confidence waned. "I''m good." "You sure? You''re looking a little unsteady from where I''m standing. Even Brutes needs a hand sometimes." The cape stepped forward, Greg''s fists clenching as the villain moved just the slightest bit closer to him. "I''m. Good." Greg almost bit out the words, his mouth turned down in a slight frown. "Whoa, you can relax, kid," the villain replied, his smile openly predatory in Greg''s eyes. "I don''t bite." That''s like number 5 on the list of ''Creepy Things You Shouldn''t Say to Minors.''Greg said nothing, simply staring at Stormtiger. "Fine, you don''t have to say anything. Just wanted to have a chat," the villain continued, arms still folded across his chest. "By the way, that''s a nice costume. A little roughed up but¡­ uh, better than some I''ve seen before, I''ll tell you that." A little roughed up? Greg raised an eyebrow behind his mask, wondering exactly why Stormtiger was lying to him. Apart from the breastplate itself and his hood, his costume was mostly a mess of soot and grime covered plastic and cloth, the two materials deformed by heat and covered in dried blood. "Thank you," he finally managed to get out. Is he trying to get me to put my guard down or something? It was undeniable that Stormtiger was planning something. Greg knew that for a fact. The way the cape was eyeing him spoke volumes about his agenda. After all, how could Greg forget the last thing the aerokinetic had said to him that first night out. I''m gonna make you an offer, huh? Fighting the villain was an option. A bad one, but still, it was an option. What else could he do? Run? Give up? Join the frickin'' Empire? Although, considering the Empire had those two giant hotties as members, that might not be the absolute worst move. Heh. German Waifus. Nazi Waifus¡­ Luftwaiffus¡­ Greg blinked as the thought popped into his head. Wow, how much blood have I lost? Blinking, Greg began thinking of what he could do to fight against Stormtiger. Even without any reinforcement at all, he was definitely stronger and without a doubt faster than him, but none of that would really save him from the nigh-invisible grenades the Neo-Nazi could make, especially with his speed advantage basically nullified by the burns on his legs. Offensively, he didn''t think his aerokinesis was as strong as the villain''s and defensively¡­ well, Stormtiger could block bullets with his air. Greg really didn''t see himself pulling that off anytime soon. The option to turn and run was available but that would just leave his back exposed, and again, his legs as they were would get him nowhere fast. The pain wouldn''t let him get far either before he stumbled and fell, leaving him as easy prey for the white tiger on the prowl. Besides, all it would take was one air bomb ripping open his chest wound to have his health start plummeting dangerously again, leaving him stuck in another fight for his life. Part of him felt like laughing at the absurdity of meeting Stormtiger again, especially now. The other part felt like punching that part in the teeth. So, just cause my life''s a game now, is it just fight after fight after endless fight now? You have gained 1 WIS. Oh, fuck you too. "Look, uh," The younger cape stepped back involuntarily, swallowing a mouthful of nothing. "I gotta go. Things to do and stuff. You know how it is." Stormtiger smiled at Greg, his mouth stretching into a wide grin as he stared down the cape in blue. "What''s the hurry, kid? I just wanna talk for a little." Despite what he may have intended, the expression and the words that accompanied it were far from comforting, the sight enough to creep Greg far more than he was already. Seriously, all these lines are from ''How To Be A Predator 101'' or something. Greg''s hands tightened at his side, ready to pull out the sword from his inventory at a moment''s notice. The blade had leveled up alongside him in the desperate scramble for survival he was dumb enough to consider a fight just moments before, the thing actually gaining a name, Gram. Apparently, pushing massive amounts of will and mana inside something could actually have some sort of an effect. Who knew? He wasn''t sure what that meant for it, exactly, but Greg doubted the three-pound blade would be any weaker because of it. While it was designed for dragon slaying, he had no doubt that the sword wouldn''t do just as well against a person, especially a non-Brute like Stormtiger. Gram, it''s you and me, buddy. Don''t let me down. "I saw what you did with Lung, you know. You just let ''im have it. Didn''t even pull back in the slightest. That brutality¡­" Stormtiger paused, chuckling slightly. "You know, you got a real killer instinct, kid. The Empire could use someone like you." Greg stared for a long moment as Stormtiger finished speaking, blinking only once. His mouth moved just slightly, the word coming out like a hiss, "Observe."
Stormtiger Lv 28 Title: Gale Striker HP: 450/450 A cape with a fistful of wind and a hard-on for Hitler (Not literally. Don''t be gross). Wants to recruit young capes to the Empire. Likes watching Women''s Tennis. Can''t stand the WNBA, though. Also, what kind of creep walks around shirtless at night in New England?
"No." Greg found himself saying, the fear trickling away from him as the stoic calm of Gamer''s Mind pushed away everything else, leaving behind only raw conviction. He stood up straight, ignoring the persisting pain on his body and looked Stormtiger straight in the eye, his tone clear and calm. "Hell no." Stormtiger blinked, obviously not expecting Greg''s tone to shift so drastically. The younger cape seemed to have lost his geniality, leaving the Empire cape to wonder where he stood. "What?" "I have¡­" Greg blinked, thinking back to exactly what his inventory held, "had an¡­ eventful night." "I know." Stormtiger remarked, the humor gone from his expression replaced by a slight frown. Greg found himself frowning as well. "Good, and you know who I fought." When Stormtiger didn''t say anything, Greg continued. "I went up against the Dragon of Kyushu, and I''m still standing. I read somewhere most capes don''t last more than one minute. I lasted ten." At least, I think I did. Was it a full ten? Might not have been a full ten, actually. Not important, Greg. Focus. A whispered "Equip" and Gram was in Greg''s hand, fading motes of blue mana trailing from the weapon as it appeared. The blade was still slick with blood, the vitae of the demon-dogs and Lung''s own ichor kept fresh by whatever means inside his inventory. Gram glowed a soft gold, his body''s reinforcement flowing on to the sword, the glow on both intensifying as Greg readied himself for a fight. "And the dragon lost." Stormtiger tensed at the appearance of the blade. The fact that it was angled down and held in one hand didn''t seem to ease the cape in the slightest. Now, though, there was an added layer of tension as Stormtiger stared at Greg. All of his frustrations and annoyance at this entire god-damn situation surged through Greg, and for a moment he thought the sword responded in kind. "Not gonna say anything?" He had to bite back the anger he could feel in his words. Based on the piercing stare he received, Greg assumed the racist cape noticed anyways. "Now, this is the part where you''re gonna make your pitch. You''re going to say that ''cause I''m white and blond, I''d be a great fit for your little band of Nazi cosplayers. Or that you can protect me from the ABB when they''re gunning for revenge. Or some other BS like money, fame or whatever, like I''m some five year old who''ll climb into your creep-mobile because you pulled up next to me with candy." Greg paused, letting out a huff of air to disguise a hiss of pain. "You''ll say that it''s to protect this city from undesirables like blacks and Asians and gays so honest, white folk like us can be safe. And if sweet-talking me doesn''t work, you''ll try and threaten me." Greg stepped forward slightly, lifting his sword up to point it directly at the villain. "Here''s my rebuttal. I have a fucking magic sword, and I know how to use it. And if you doubt that, you can ask Lung who the hell cut out his eye and disemboweled his giant scaly ass." Greg allowed the righteous anger to fill him, annoyance pushing against Gamer''s Mind. He held onto it for a moment before letting it go, letting the emotion be overwhelmed by the oppressive calm of Gamer''s Mind. "So, I''ll say it again... I''ve had an eventful night. And I''m just¡­" Greg took in another sharp breath, shaking his head as his chest ached with the motion, "not in the mood. Like, really not in the mood. Suuuper not in the mood. So, if you''ll just kindly step aside and let me be on my way, I''ll leave you to do¡­ whatever it is you people do. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "Otherwise..." Greg paused, tilting his head as he prayed internally that the Nazi cape didn''t call this outrageous bluff and blast him anyway. "l''ll stab you. Like, really, really hard. In the face." The tiger-themed cape backed up ever so slightly, almost stepping back into the alley. His arms fell back to his sides, the chains on them jingling just slightly. What is he doing? The thought came to Greg with a slight trickle of suspicion and another helping of anger, Gamer''s Mind quickly stamping it out before it could affect him again. He was thankful for that. Emotions aside, he needed to think. After a few seconds of this, Stormtiger''s hands rose again, folding themselves across his chest as his chains rattled with the movement. The cape was clearly displeased, the expression on his face not one that could be said to match the frown from moments ago. "...You know what, kid?" Greg tightened at those words, his hand clenching the sword tightly. "You''ve got a great point there."
Bullshitting Level Up! 5¡ú6 You have gained 1 CHA.
Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 1510/32000
Health 181/1207 (+20)
Mana 99/475
Willpower 158/448 (+3)
STR 59 (+2) SPD 52 (+2) (+2)
VIT 59 (+2) INT 39
WIS 14 (-80%) CHA 18 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 63
Perk Points: 14
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 1 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 2 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second.
  • (x 5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 15 Will, 10 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 45%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 45%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10%. Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 25%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 50%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. Reflexes Lv 14(XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reflexes and reactions by 10% per level. (120%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level. Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 15%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop. Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for quieter movement while trying not to be heard. Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 20%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level.
Cutscene: A Mother Worries Cutscene: A Mother Worries ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 9:25 AM "Sweetie, are you sure you don''t need anything?" Greg blinked away the fuzziness of sleep from his eyes as he stared up at his mother, a perfect copy of his own blues looking down at him with a furrowed brow. Pursing his lips, he shrunk away from her hand as she brought it closer to his forehead. Trying to ignore her hurt expression as he avoided her touch, Greg spoke up. "Mom," the whine in his voice was obvious to him, but he didn''t care much right now, "I told you like five times. I''m not dying or anything. I just don''t feel that great." "Greg, you''re burning up. Just let me-" "Mom, just go to sleep. You just got back from work," Greg pleaded, desperate for her to just leave. "I''m fine." Greg had been laying in bed, finally asleep after spending several hours awake once he got home. With his wounds still recovering, Greg had had no choice but to drop himself into the bathtub while in the buff, just spending time watching his blood go down the shower drain as he waited impatiently for his legs and torso to heal over. Falling asleep in the bathtub hadn''t been intentional. Really, he hadn''t planned on staying in there any longer than he absolutely had to. After all, it was a cold, hard, piece of porcelain, one of the farthest things from his warm, comfortable bed. Thing is, he was tired and, Gamer''s Body or not, he still needed sleep like everyone else. Waking up perfectly healed and in a bathtub stained with dried blood had been a shock, surprising Greg for a few moments. Another shock had been the additional three points he had gained to his VIT. Pulling his phone from his inventory and realizing that it was already a quarter to nine in the morning had been a third, yet much more powerful, shock to his system, the realization telling him two things. One, he had missed school and two, his mom''s night shift ended in fourteen minutes. The rush of cleaning that followed would have been worthy of a montage. That is, if his life was a movie and not a video game. Using healthy amounts of bleach, Greg had scrubbed the bathtub free of any blood, as well as cleaning the minute trails he had left behind on the bathroom tile. With all that done, he finally crawled into his own bed, deciding he might as well go back to sleep anyway. Less than thirty minutes after he had crawled into his bed and fallen asleep once more, his mom had rushed into his room, eyes wide. The sound of his door impacting the wall had been loud enough to jolt him from his sleep, Greg''s eyes darting open suddenly to see his mom, still clad in her blue scrubs, as she made her way from the doorway to his bedside in a hurry. Questions flew from her in a rushed tone, asking him what was wrong, why he hadn''t gone to school, and multiple times, "Are you sure you''re okay, Greggie?" "Mooom," the word left his mouth with a sigh, Greg draping an arm over his face. "I''m fine. You just got back from work, though. Go, sleep already." "How can I sleep when you''re burning up, Greg?" Above the covers, her hand found his, her fingers gripping on to him tightly before Greg could think to pull away. "You have a fever and your skin¡­ it''s so clammy. You need me." One hand still over his face, Greg winced. Note to self; using powers to make myself sweat a little was a bad idea. After giving his mom the excuse that he hadn''t gone to school because he was sick, that was exactly what Greg had done. With one hand under the covers, Greg had generated heat from one finger, not even enough to start a fire, and used a slight bit of aerokinesis to circulate the heated air around his body. In Greg''s opinion, it was a genius idea when he came up with it. "I''m just worried about you, Greg," Susan continued quietly. "Worried?" Greg asked, echoing the statement into a question. He lifted his hand from his head and stared up at his mom. "About what?" "Not for any specific reason." Susan blinked, shaking her head slightly. She pulled her hand away from his quickly, clutching her fingers to her chest as she worked her mouth for a second, saying nothing. "... Just¡­ just worried. In general. You understand?" Greg sat up wordlessly, pursing his lips slightly. "I guess. I just don''t want you to stress too much. You already worked all night." "Exactly." Susan pulled him into a hug, tightening her grip around him as she stroked his hair with one hand. "I spent all night taking care of sick people. What''s one more at home?" Greg let out a sigh, blowing several strands of his mom''s hair out of his face as he did so. Pulling away from her, he looked into his mom''s eyes, her concerned gaze forcing an undercurrent of guilt to rise in his stomach. Fine. This was his fault anyway. He was the one who had the smart idea of pretending to be sick so as not to get in trouble for missing school. If his mom wanted to take care of him for a little bit before she decided to let herself rest, then he could live with that. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 9:55 AM "So¡­" Spoon inside his mouth, Greg gave his mom a short hum of acknowledgement and nodded. "It''s¡­ it''s good, Mom." He nodded again, a little slower this time. "Your chicken soup is always good, you know." "That''s nice," Susan replied. Greg gave a quick glance up at his mother, the blonde woman sitting at the foot of his bed still in her scrubs and wooly white button-up. One hand played with his comforter, making slight tents with her fingers in the cloth emblazoned with Eidolon''s image while the fingers on the other hand tapped out an unsteady rhythm on his wooden bed post. Her gaze drifted around, almost as if she was studying his room like it was a puzzle. His mom, as nice as she was, had a tendency to be clingy. In all fairness, Greg knew he could be the same way. Still, Greg knew enough to let her have some space on occasion. Problem was, his mom didn''t seem to have that same courtesy for him. Case in point, right now. Quickly glancing down at his tray before she turned back to him, Greg gave a quiet sigh. Grabbing a peeled tangerine from the tray, he tossed a piece into his mouth and tried to think. His mom had brought him a tray full of "sick food" not too long ago; chicken soup, tangerines, hot tea with honey and lemon, etc. It was nice, yeah. It''d be even nicer if Mom didn''t sit here while I ate. "Did I buy that for you?" Susan''s voice caused Greg to pick his head up, letting the tangerine in his hand fall back onto the tray. "Hmm?" Susan turned to face her son, Greg blinking at her pensive expression. "That? Did I buy it for you?" Greg blinked again, his gaze following the path of her outstretched arm as it pointed at the large decal over his computer desk, the image of Alexandria in a heroic pose staring down at the both of them. "I''ve seen them all the time in your room but I don''t remember where they came from." Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Greg blinked. "What?" "The poster things, Greg." "No¡­ I know what you mean but¡­" Greg shook his head, as he gave a slight shrug, unsure of why his mom was asking this. "Okay, look, you bought them, Mom. You did," Greg repeated as he caught Susan''s confused glance. "For my twelfth birthday. You got me the Eidolon one too. It''s by my bookcase." He gestured towards the life-like poster image of the green cloaked hero without even looking, his mother''s eyes moving towards it in confusion. Her lips pursed, Susan frowning in slight confusion the longer she stared. "I¡­ I don''t remember that." Greg let out a soft sigh and moved the tray on his lap to his bedside table, giving his mom a weak smile as he did so. "Yeah, I¡­ I didn''t really have a party that year. You remembered but¡­ it was kinda late already to do anything¡­ or get anyone to come¡­ so you bought me some more stuff. A lot more stuff, really," Greg added as an afterthought, his mind going back to the near-mountain of toys and stuff his mother had purchased for him that day. "Oh, sweetheart," Susan shook her head and got up, moving over to Greg''s side to draw her son into a hug. "I''m so sorry." Greg laughed a little, shaking his head again. "Mom, you¡­ you don''t have to apologize. I got to pick out all my gifts that year. How many kids get to go shopping for their own presents?" He hugged his mom a little tighter, making sure to keep his grip loose enough so as not to hurt her. "It was fun." Susan let out a slight whining sound, pulling away enough for Greg to see the slight tears in her eyes. "I remember that now. I was¡­ not feeling my best that morning, sweetie. You woke up all happy for your birthday and there was just nothing downstairs except for me sleeping on the couch." Greg nodded, clicking his tongue slightly. "Yeah." He very kindly chose not to mention that he knew that his mother was hung-over that morning, and that the only reason she was on the couch was because she couldn''t manage to get herself to bed the night before. "You weren''t¡­ weren''t really feeling your best that year, you know." "I''m here now. Things are better." Susan stood up, smoothing Greg''s hair back with one hand as she did so. Her other hand came up to give her son a gentle pat on the cheek as she held his gaze firmly. "I love you, sweetheart. You''re my little boy and I will always be here for you. Anything you need to talk to me about, anything you''re worried about, anything at all¡­ you can come to me because I would do anything for you. No matter what¡­ okay?" Her eyes seemed to bore into him, as if desperately pleading for him to say something back. A weak smile grew on Greg''s face, the feeling of guilt skyrocketing at his mom''s words and the prolonged eye contact, the blond giving a slight wince as he leaned away from his mother''s touch ever so slightly. "I, uh... I love you too, Mom." Susan stared at her son for several seconds, the time for Greg seeming to stretch on far longer. "Alright, then." Greg blinked at his mom''s tone, wondering why she suddenly sounded so different. Her hand let go of his hair and Susan began to walk over to his open door, the smile on her face matching his in how frail it was. "I''m gonna get some rest, Greg." "Kay. Bye, Mom." Susan''s hand gripped the doorknob as she smiled back at her son, nodding slowly. As the door closed behind her, leaving Greg alone in his cluttered mess of a room, the teenager was left wondering if he said something wrong. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 9:59 AM As she walked into her room and closed the double doors behind her, Susan Veder closed her tired eyes and let out a long, slow breath. Blinking the exhaustion out of her eyes, she rubbed her cheeks as she walked over to her vanity, staring at her exhausted face in the mirror. A finger rose to touch her lower eyelid and the blonde woman let out a sigh as she poked at the skin. "... Five thousand for an eyelid lift and I''m making every cent count," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Dragging herself over to her bed, Susan sat down on the edge and stretched a hand out, opening the top drawer on her side table and pulling out a poorly folded brochure, the once glossy paper now a rather wrinkled and frayed mess. The original sharp creases of the folded paper were almost invisible among the many other folds and bends on the paper, rendering it''s contents barely readable. Still, Susan didn''t really mind. She almost knew it''s contents by heart at this point. She had picked it from the hospital weeks ago, around the same time she noticed Greg''s growth spurt. She had walked past the collection of child-care brochures several times every day for the last couple of years, paying them no real attention because her specialty wasn''t pediatrics. However, she couldn''t help but pick it up one day, the title almost calling out to her. Could Your Child Be A Parahuman? 10 Signs and Symptoms of a Super-Powered Youth. That was a question Susan wasn''t sure she wanted answered, if only because the truth might be a lot more that she could handle. Still, what else could it be? What else could have changed her little boy so much? It had been too much, far too much for her to ignore. She saw her son every single day and had taken care of him since the day she came home from the hospital. How could she not notice? If it had just been a mild increase in height or weight, Susan might have brushed it off as just her son growing into his body, but it wasn''t. It was all just so¡­ sudden. Almost as if she left the house one day and her son was replaced by someone else with the same face, and voice, but with an entirely different body. Not to mention the change in his behavior, the hours he spent exercising, his massive appetite and, the strangest thing, her son''s sudden maturity. He whined far less, he actually seemed to listen when she spoke, he spent more time on his appearance, and he actually seemed to notice what she didn''t say, on occasion. That was¡­ a little unsettling, even compared to everything else. Susan Veder knew her son. She knew his faults, his strengths, his favorites and his personality¡­ Most of all, she knew when he was hiding something. The blonde sighed and flipped the brochure over, staring at the back for a few long moments. Can I go through with this? Her fingers tapped against her thigh as she pondered her options, wondering if she really needed to do this. Should I talk to him? Susan shook her head at the thought. She doubted Greg would tell her if she even tried asking him. He still assumed she didn''t know about that girl he was with and he was barely even trying to hide that. Sighing, Susan pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed a single button, the one number she had on speed dial the last few days coming up immediately. Raising the phone to her ear, she let out another deep sigh, closing her eyes. It''s for the best. "You''ve reached the PRT Hotline." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Cutscene: Viral Cutscene: Viral ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 12:09 AM As he walked out of the bathroom, a white fluffy towel tied firmly around his waist, Greg found it hard to keep the self-satisfied smile off his face. The entirety of the bathroom was near-sparkling, his frenzied cleaning having wiped away all evidence of his gruesome state last night. Man, has anyone ever opened a cape cleaning business? Literally one of the best ideas in the history of ideas. That thought led to a series of other, tangential ideas and as Greg opened the door to his room and strode in, his mind was still occupied contemplating the hypothetical image of Glory Girl - or Laserdream, he wasn''t really that picky - in a french maid costume. Two cute blonde maids serving him drinks and waiting on him hand and foot¡­. Greg gave a little shiver as he walked over to his vanity and glanced at his reflection in the mirror, pulling aside the wet hair that hung in front of his eyes. He shook his head ruefully. Man, if I could wish for anything¡­ The blond frowned, pursing his lips in thought. Although, I''m pretty sure that, by the rules of the universe, people can only get one wish granted and a chance at UNLIMITED POWAH - Greg struck a pose, fingers splayed out as he let out an evil cackle - would count as a wish for me. Ah well, harem routes tend to suck anyway. Not even bothering to fully dry himself, the blond dropped his damp body, towel and all, into his gaming chair and spun around in the seat to face his desktop. "Man, it''s been a while since I played an actual game." Greg clicked his tongue as he stared at his reflection in the black mirror of his powered off computer screen. One hand tousled his wet hair as he pursed his lips, thinking back to exactly when he last played a game on his PC, or even turned any of his consoles on, for that matter. It was strange how the last few weeks were so oddly clear in his memory, Greg thought to himself as he counted back, yet so much had happened. In fact, the days since he got his first notification box were almost crystal-clear in his head. Weird. Shaking his head, Greg continued to count back only to pause as he realized that the last time he played a game was the day before he got his powers. "March 19th? That''s like¡­ twenty-three days ago...That''s almost a month!" Blue eyes slowly widened. "Holy- I haven''t played a game in almost a month! I haven''t even finished Space Opera!" Palms flew to his cheeks in a perfect imitation of the Home Alone kid, Greg''s mouth opening slightly. "How can I claim to be a Gamer when I haven''t played a game in forever and a day? This is a disaster! A calamity! A travesty!" Redundant descriptions of the situation aside, it was all those things to the young cape. "There''s only one way to fix this," Greg said to himself, nodding to himself. Game marathon! Pushing the button on his CPU to turn it on, Greg found himself pausing again, finger moving away from the On button as he was faced with a noise that he was all too familiar with. Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.My phone? Greg blinked in confusion, turning to stare at his bedside table. Who''s texting me right now? The blond stood up and walked over to the small dresser, grabbing his phone and staring at the device''s front panel screen.
Sparky: MOTHERFUKER!
Greg''s hand slackened and the phone slipped from it. Eyes widening in surprise, Greg scrambled for it, the phone being kept aloft by his sloppy grabs. Shit!Shit!Shit!Shit! Lunging forward, he slapped the flip-phone to his bare chest with one hand, the other snapping to his towel to keep it from falling as he made the sudden, jerky movement. As he flipped the phone open, Greg found himself wincing as he read through the messages he had just received. As quick as he could, Greg rushed to his computer and plopped himself down on his seat, not even caring as his towel fell off in his mad dash. Dropping his phone next to the keyboard, Greg quickly opened a browser tab and opened PHO. Mouse in hand, he clicked the most recent thread, the first one on the list of non-stickied posts with the title "Knight Cape v Lung HD! (UBER & LEET SUBSCRIBER SPECIAL) [SITERIP]". Greg blinked as the video at the very top of the thread began to autoplay, eyes widening with excitement as he watched most of the fight from a third person, birds-eye view. The video itself was only four minutes at most, starting from the point right before he had spun on the flagpole right up until the building had come crumbling down. The drone had actually tilted away slightly from the action at the moment, the camera tracking Lady Bug as she jumped off the roof to grab onto a fire escape, her hands gripping tightly to the metal before letting go and falling onto the ground several feet below. Thirty-one pages. Are you kidding? Thirty-one pages for a thread that had only been up for less than two hours was insane, really. Still, Greg had to admit that the video did look cool. Switching to his bookmarks, Greg opened up Uber & Leet''s site, the home for all their premium subscriber-only videos and giveaways. Already in possession of a "Premium" subscription since he was twelve, Greg already had access to the video on their site, so he didn''t even bother glancing at that. Instead, the blond''s gaze went to the top left side of the screen at the very top of the sidebar, eyes widening as he noted how much their subscriber count had exploded. That''s like five times as many subscribers already! Just a basic, one-month subscription to their site cost $5.00, Greg knew that for a fact. With the subscriber count jumping up and up like that, he had no doubt that the two of them had to be raking in the cash right now. Opening up another tab, Greg opened up the other sites Sparky mentioned, noting that his video was in the top trending sections of both. Greg sat back in his chair, still naked, as a massive smile grew across his face. A smile that he had no reason to hide and no intention of doing so. All of this is because of me. Letting out a happy laugh, Greg thrust his hands up into the air, his feet kicking the ground as he spun around and around in his chair. "I''m viral!" His phone beeped again, the text message notification cutting into his happy time and interrupting his impromptu celebration. "What now, Sparks?" Rolling his eyes, Greg tilted his head over again to stare at the screen. As he read the newest message, Greg winced again, letting out a low hiss of air from his mouth.
Sparky: U TOTALD MY COSTUME?!
Cutscene: Ssssssmokin Cutscene: Ssssssmokin'' ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Monday April 11, 2011 4:49 Greg focused on his breathing, going over the same mantra he used while meditating. In and out. In and out. The basement was as cold as it usually was, April weather not being the warmest in New England, even during Spring. Yet, even then, Greg barely felt it, his hands brimming with a deep warmth. "Firebending comes from the breath," Greg muttered to himself, closing his eyes as he held his palms out in front of his bare chest focusing on the warmth that had he had been slowly and carefully nurturing in his palms for the last fifteen minutes. Meditation had been how he had broken through from Minor to Basic Aerokinesis. Since he''d obtained Pyrokinesis at the Basic level from the start, Greg could only assume that the principle that had let him make that breakthrough was the same no matter what element he manipulated. In and out. In and out. "It''s not the fire I manipulate. It''s the mana I put into the fire..." Greg breathed, focusing on the small flame burning brightly in front of him, held between his palms. Eyes closed, he could still feel the presence of the air around him, and the fire before him. It was raw energy, power and life burning brightly. Even with his eyes closed, he could almost see it in his mind''s eye. He could feel the Mana around him in the breeze, and the Mana that was in the flame in front of him. The fire flickered, so Greg stilled the breeze, feeding the fire with a constant trickle of aerokinesis. In and out. In and out. The fire flickered with his breath. In. Out. In. Out. It flickered with his life, growing ever so slightly with each moment. For the first time, Greg flared his mana and the flame roared. Greg opened his eyes, blinking as he saw the flame had risen in height, growing over a foot long and straight as an arrow, pointed out from his palms. The flames were only partially dispersed by the barrier of cool air Greg kept tight over his skin, convection wafting the heat back onto him while the barrier did its best to prevent his skin from burning.
Basic Pyrokinesis Level Up! 1¡ú2
Given his mom was a trauma nurse, Greg was sure that she would be familiar with how it smelled. Granted, she was fast asleep but burnr human flesh had a certain smell to it, a smell that was quite distinctive. Hell, he was familiar with how it smelled and it took an entire bottle of air freshener to wipe out that distinctive scent from the house when he entered this morning. Kinda like a mix of pork and beef but not quite, if Greg had to put a descriptor on the aroma. It was really kinda gross when he thought about it, even grosser when he found out that people basically tasted like pork. Uggh¡­ never again. Never. The blond let out another breath and frowned as he brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand, tilting his head as he looked at the flame in front of him. His tongue drifted from the confines of his mouth, moving to the side of his lips as he focused carefully on his next action. The lance of flames turned in on itself, the sharp point curving backwards until the entire thing condensed into a roiling ball of flames, just slightly smaller than a basketball. Greg let out a slight groan of annoyance as he tried to focus, compressing the sphere even further to get it under control. The way the sphere seemed to fight his attempts to control it, tongues of flame spurting out every time his control slipped¡­ it was a little scary. Fire was very different from air when it came to this type of control, Greg had soon realized. Fire was¡­ dangerous in a way that air just couldn¡¯t match. Well, duh, Greg thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. That was kinda why it was fire. Yeesh, maybe I should change my cape name from Prodigy to Captain Obvious. Still, incredibly obvious or not, it still rang true. Fire was scary and controlling it wasn¡¯t quite as easy as Greg thought it would be. The flames fed on the air, growing despite his wishes unless he purposely restricted the blaze from expanding past it¡¯s current limits. It was almost like holding a leash, really. A leash holding back an eager, dangerous dog. His nostrils flared as Greg flexed his muscles, sweat beginning to pour down his bare chest as he focused on his next action. Letting out another breath, Greg slowly let his palms spread apart, moving further and further away until the straining ball of fire remained aloft in the air with nothing holding it back. This was another strong distinction between fire and wind Greg had noticed. While it was far, far, easier to shape air, whatever form he gave the breeze quickly dispersed into nothing once it left him, even when he focused tightly on it. Fire, on the other hand, remained in the shape for far longer, even despite its innate attempts to grow past the limits Greg gave it. Shifting his mana, Greg moved one hand up and splayed his fingers outward slowly. At his subtle direction, the fire danced, spreading out from the ball into the shape of a woman''s fan, elegantly on display. Then the flame twisted, coiling upon itself as it undulated with Greg¡¯s own movement. In and out. In and out. The writhing flame spat sparks out, powerful and hungry as it threatened to lash out beyond Greg''s control. Still, Greg held tight, a grin growing on his face as he continued to move his arms. After all, he had some experience moving the air to his whim, and the wind was a far more fickle force than any hungry flame. In and out. In and out. A tongue of flame stretched out from the sphere, slowly coiling round and round in the air as Greg undulated his arms, performing a wave-like movement as he rolled his shoulders. A flare of flame burst from the long tendril sparking at the tip as the ball became a dancing eastern dragon, the now-stable flare it¡¯s head as it flew in the air around him with it¡¯s long snake-like body.
Basic Pyrokinesis Level Up! 2¡ú3
In. Out. In. Out. The dragon twisted and turned, ducking in and out, as Greg practiced his control and precision, twisting his body with the dragon''s as it moved. While the heat from Greg''s creation was relatively low, nothing compared to even the lightest of Lung''s flames that he could recall. Despite all that, it was enough to warm his body, forcing sweat from his pores as he moved to a rhythm that he made in his head. Through all this, he construct flowed effortlessly as it followed his body, the colors of the flame flickering between yellow and orange. Greg spun and the dragon followed, twirling over and over around his head as it''s long body made a path around the basement, just barely touching the walls. It''s tail flickered, sparks flying upon some magazines on a worktable near the stairs. Shit!Shit!Shit! Greg blinked, eyes widening as the magazines suddenly burst into a blaze upon the wooden table and he tightened his hold on the fire construct once more, forcing it to curl back in on itself as he kept one eye on the slowly blackening magazines. "Greg? Sweetie?" A slightly sleepy voice called for him and Greg''s eyes widened further, instinctively loosening his grip on the semi-controlled sphere of flames. Without his grip on it, it rushed forward in a burst of flames. Greg threw out his hands to recover his focus, pulling all the flame from the erupting sphere and the burning magazines into a single ball of fulminous energy that nearly roared under his control. The ball shrank as he drew it back into himself and held it between his hands before snuffing it out with a powerful clap. Furiously cycling his hands, a horizontal tunnel of wind formed around the table''s surface knocking loose papers to the ground and containing the smoke in a funnel. Breathing somewhat heavily as he continued his attempts to prevent the smell of smoke from leaving the basement, Greg gulped down a mouth full of nervous saliva as he called back upstairs, "Yes, Mom?" "What are you doing in the basement?" Greg blanched slightly but kept his hands moving. "Oh... uhh, I was feeling a little better so I decided to¡­ uhhh," he glanced around the basement, his gaze landing on some exercise equipment, "get on the treadmill for a bit." "The treadmill? That''s... huh." Greg blinked at the odd tone in his mom''s voice, wondering why she sounded a little off there, almost as if she was disappointed or something? "It''s good that you''re feeling better, at least." "Yeah," Greg called back, "It''s all thanks to the food you made me this morning. Really gave me my energy back." "That''s nice, sweetie. Oh, and speaking of food, did you order us anything to eat?" Her voice called out rather faintly. Greg blinked, letting out a slightly relieved sigh as he realized that she was still on the stairs, still a good distance away from the basement as he began to pull the still spinning wind funnel towards him, the smoke thick and gray inside the translucent construct. Greg winced as he realized what she had asked, realizing his mother had asked him to order some food several hours ago. "No, Mom, I¡­ uhhh¡­ I couldn''t find your card and¡­ uhh," Greg wracked his brain for something to say, "I knew you were tired so I didn''t want to wake you up!" he added loudly. "Way better than saying I forgot," Greg muttered under his breath. His hands began to move slower now, cycling around each other much in a semi-circle as Greg copied the same technique he started with the fireball, compressing the wind into a dense sphere. "Aww, that''s so sweet, honey. Don''t worry about it," his mom responded. "I''ll take care of it. You want Chinese or pizza?" "Chinese sounds great, mom!" A relieved sigh left Greg''s lips as he heard his mom''s footsteps heading up the stairs. With an errant push, he sent the ball of slowly spinning air into a corner of the basement, the wind dissipating the smoke against the wall. "Before learning firebending you must learn water and earth. Water is cool and soothing, earth is steady and stable, but fire... Fire is alive, it breathes, it grows," Greg muttered to himself as he began to walk upstairs, remembering another line from that same show. He seemed to muddle over the words for few seconds, hand to his chin only to shake his head a moment later. The blond scoffed as he paused on the last few steps before the basement door, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He raised his other hand in front of him thoughtfully, bringing his thumb and middle finger together. Light danced in his eyes, a grin growing slowly across his face as Greg snapped his fingers. Once. Twice. On the third snap, a tongue of flame burst from the tip of his thumb and Greg''s grin grew even further. "Pfftt¡­ as if I''m ever gonna wait for that." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 1510/32000
Health 1237/1237
Mana 475/475
Willpower 451/451
STR 59 SPD 52 (+2) (+2)
VIT 59 INT 39
WIS 14 (-80%) CHA 18 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 63
Perk Points: 12
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 5%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (8%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.10 Aggro 4.10 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "So, anyone have any thoughts about the rise of the the far-right in Europe in the 90s? Like, what that says about their politics right now? Or, what that could mean for us¡­ here?" The short man standing in the front of the class spread his arms out, clapping them together as his smile dimmed a little. "Anyone? No one¡­ nobody?" No hands went up, the classroom nearly silent apart from a few muttered responses and several quiet groans that rang with boredom. The general vibe of the classroom rang of boredom, really, and even the teacher could feel it, his smile not as earnest as it usually was. "Wow. Well, then¡­" the man clicked his tongue, one hand playing with his tie as he spoke. "I guess I''ll just go over it again. Probably went by it too fast for you guys, huh?" He asked the question with a chuckle, grin growing slightly before fading again as no one laughed. "Huh." Scratching his chin for a moment, Francis Gladly shook his head again before picking up the textbook on his desk and glancing down at it as he prepared to go over the information again. "Okay. Well, the state of Europe as a whole after the Cold War was generally¡­" Greg blinked slowly as he sank further into the seat of his desk, the feeling of cold metal against his neck nothing more than slightly uncomfortable. He stared with half-lidded eyes as Mr. Gladly continued to speak, only paying a modicum of attention to whatever it was that came out of the teacher''s mouth, despite how lively the man tried to be. Oddly enough, Greg usually didn''t mind Mr. Gladly''s class, actually enjoying the energetic teacher''s view on World Issues and the way he didn''t blindly stick to the textbook. Even when most of the class obviously couldn''t care less about the topic, Greg was usually the one kid asking questions, to his classmates constant annoyance. Today was different, though. Today, he was famous. Even a day after the video dropped, he was still the talk of the school. Well, not him. Greg doubted he''d actually be able to attend school if everyone knew who it really was behind the costume. White Knight, the moniker PHO had given him, was the one Winslow was all abuzz about. Apparently, as good as the footage from U&L''s drone was, the sound quality was just as good. What else would you expect from a crazy Tinker like Leet? So, all of Greg''s taunts, jokes and shouted attacks were all over the interwebs, inspiring memelords and internet commentators by the bucketload. In short, the "White Knight" wasn''t only popular, he was also quite meme-able. What more could a guy ask for, really, than to be eternalized in meme form? Greg turned his head to the side, casting a glance at his friend. Sparky had taken to ignoring him all day simply to give Greg a dose of the silent treatment as punishment for¡­ well, a lot of things, all of them related to Sunday night''s events. Right now, his friend''s head was down against the desk, Sparky laying down with his hair completely in his face like a curtain of brown. "Sparky," Greg hissed his friend''s name under his breath, covering his mouth with a single hand to avoid detection. "Sparky. Sparky. Spark-keeeeeeee..." Hazel eyes snapped open, barely visible behind his hair. Even then, Greg saw it anyway. Sparky''s hand rose, pulling his hair back to shoot Greg a glare that told him in one look what some people would need a long-winded rant for. Greg winced, shutting his eyes for a moment as he leaned further back in his seat. Glancing back to the front of the class and dropping his own head onto the table chin-first, he let out a heavy, quiet sigh. This blows. It did, in fact, blow. Apparently, Sparky''s annoyance at his antics hadn''t ended with the long-winded string of texts the other day, the long-haired teen carrying a chip on his shoulder into the next day solely to show Greg his displeasure. He didn''t even care when Greg told him he''d fixed the costume he made, obviously not believing Greg could do that without at least learning how to work with clothes first. Greg gave a slight "harumph", blinking languidly, as he looked toward the front of the class. Mr. Gladly was still talking, of course, trying his very best to teach a class that couldn''t give damn about fascism in Europe at any point in history. "And you guys have to understand how insane this is, that less than thirty years after World War II ended, only one generation, another far-right group using the same symbolism¡­" Greg blinked for a moment, pursing his lips as he lifted his head slightly. "Observe."
Francis David Gladly Lv 8 Teacher HP: 210/210 A teacher at Winslow High School, Mr. Gladly is a young man in his mid-twenties who basically peaked in his senior year of high school and is still chasing that same high. Tends to favor the girls in the class, especially the prettier ones. Drives a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle.
Greg blinked again, bored by the lack of interesting commentary on Mr. Gladly. Glancing around the class, his gaze landed on a head of thick, voluminous black hair. The sight actually brought a slight frown to his face, memories of their last encounter coming to the forefront of his mind. Sighing, Greg rolled his eyes. "Observe."
Taylor Anne Hebert Lv 12 ??? HP: 125/125 A girl you had a crush on for about a year and a half. Kind of a raging bitch who thinks you''re a total fucking idiot but you don''t let it bother you. Really, you''re perfectly fine with that. Really not a fan of gingers. Beautiful head of hair, though. For some reason, you have the strange feeling that you''ve seen that same head of hair somewhere else.
Greg blinked, tilting his head at both the odd question marks and Taylor''s strangely high level. Level 12? What did she do to get that high? Mr. Gladly''s almost thirty and he''s still level eight. Do levels actually mean anything? Is it all just bullshit? His lips curled again, slight frown almost turning into a full-blown scowl as he shook his head, deciding to shelve that line of thought for later. Glancing back at his friend, Greg stretched a hand out and poked the teen in the shoulder. When Sparky didn''t acknowledge the action, Greg did it again, repeatedly jabbing his friend with his outstretched index. After ten seconds of this, the olive-skinned teen sat up in his seat for the first time since he had entered the World Issues classroom and gave Greg a pointed look. Greg returned his look with a closed-mouth smile, dimples out in full force. "Hey, Sparky." Hazel eyes narrowed as Sparky continued glaring at his friend. "Do you not have a fucking off button?" Sparky hissed in response, voice low as he kept his attention on the progressively bored-looking teacher at the front of the class. Greg lifted his shoulders and dropped them, still smiling angelically at Sparky as his friend rolled his eyes and turned back to the front of the class, pretending to pay attention to whatever Gladly was talking about now as he continued to whisper at his friend. "You know my godfather called yesterday?" "..." "Yeah, me too. I haven''t seen him in like two years so it was kinda weird." "..." Sparky adjusted his position in his seat, still acting as if he couldn''t hear his friend. "The one who gives great presents, you know. Sent me the year''s supply of ice cream last year for my birthday. Kind of a lazy gift, really. I mean, you get it, right?" "..." Greg snickered under his breath at Sparky''s continued silent treatment. "Fine. Be like that. Anyway, I didn''t talk to him but he called my mom almost out of the blue. I thought I was getting an early birthday gift or something but no dice, apparently." "..." "You know, this would be more interesting if you engaged me." "..." "So, basically, my godfather asked mom if she was interested in having me spend time with my godbrother, because for some reason, his dad figures he needs to set up a playdate. Weird, right?" "..." "Anyway, he basically convinced my mom to come to this dinner thing next month." "..." "Yeah, it''s supposed to be pretty darn fancy too so I gotta get fitted f-" "The stats." Greg blinked as Sparky interrupted him, raising an eyebrow at the words that left his friends lips. "What?" There was another roll of the eyes and a slight sigh before Sparky repeated himself. "I''m still mad at you, dickweed. So, all I want to hear from you is your stats. You said you got sixty points, right?" Greg nodded back, tapping his fingers on his desk. "Sixty-three, but who''s counting?" He replied, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. On the inside, though, he was slightly giddy. Despite how much his friend tried to hide it, Sparky loved to see him mess with his powers. Then again, Sparky did like to nag him more than usual now. His friend shot him a disdainful look. "Don''t give me that. You''ve probably been drooling about all your points all day yesterday." Greg tilted his head in acknowledgement of his friend''s point, fighting the grin on his face. "Maybe a little." "Uh-huh," Sparky replied, rolling his eyes again. "So¡­ what''d you do with them? The perks, too. I wanna know." Sparky slid back in his seat again, pulling his black beanie down far enough to shadow his eyes. "Don''t try and say you didn''t use them either, you fake-ass King Arthur wannabe." Greg raised an eyebrow, his mouth shifting into a grin. "You''re just jealous." For a moment, Sparky didn''t respond, giving Greg an imperceptible glance. A moment later, he clicked his tongue. "Jealous of what, brah?" "Me in general. I mean, at least I''m not single." Sparky raised an eyebrow, resting his chin on an upraised fist as he leaned forward on his desk. "I''m pretty sure Barnes is just attracted to morons, G. You''ve gone on multiple dates and been a complete doof on each one." The wince on Greg''s face was utterly unintentional and it spoke to the truth of Sparky''s statement, Greg not even denying it as he hissed slightly. "Your point?" Sparky smirked slightly as Greg reneged on the fact that he did, actually, have a point. "My point is, brah, that I bet one day you''ll ask her where toast comes from and her clothes will just come flying off." Greg narrowed his eyes at the smirking form of his best friend, smugness clear in his expression. "I maintain that you''re just jealous of my awesomeness." "Awesomeness?" Sparky let out a low hiss of air from between his lips, almost as if he were smoking a cigarette. What''s awesome about some white knight with a shitty light-up sword? King Arthur can eat a dick. Lancer forever." Unable to hold it back, Greg let out a loud snort of a laugh as he slapped one hand against his desk, only to quickly try and cover the sound up with a faked coughing fit as a classful of eyes glanced back at him. Even Mr. Gladly had looked up from the book for a moment, pausing mid-sentence to stare at Greg. Utterly unperturbed, Greg smiled back at the faces in front of him, chuckling slightly. "Sorry, uhhh... allergies." After a few seconds of staring at Greg as he smiled, Mr. Gladly shook his head. "You sure about that, Greg?" "Hundred percent, Mr. G," Greg replied, still beaming. "Mild allergies are still allergies." "If you say so." With that, the teacher went back to reading, some of the class rolling their eyes as they turned back around in their seats. Free from Gladly''s scrutiny, Sparky turned and cast him a glance, eyes narrowed. "Stats. Talk." Greg grinned. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 1510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/86
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 14 (-80%) CHA 18 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 20
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 4 (XP: 5%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (8%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.11 Aggro 4.11 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Veder walked down the hallway, brightly colored backpack slung over his shoulder as he bounced with each single step. School had been let out for a good twenty minutes at the very least, most of the students having headed home quickly as Winslow wasn''t exactly brimming with extracurriculars that most students would enjoy. Besides, it was Winslow. No one wanted to stay at the run-down school for any longer than they absolutely had to, anyway. In fact, the only reason Greg was even still here was because he had forgotten a couple of notebooks in his locker and he needed them to complete his homework for tomorrow. Telling Sparky to just head home without him, Greg had rushed back to the school before security locked the front doors and grabbed his books. Singing a familiar and upbeat song to himself as he walked down the empty stairway, Greg didn''t even bother keeping it all that quiet. "We are fighting dreamers, takami o mezashite, fighting dreamers, narifurikamawazu¡­"
Ability Gained! Singing Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Singing Level Up! 1¡ú2
Huh, cool. "Kewash¨© shura no michinonaka hito no, chizu o hirogete doko e iku? Gokusaishoku no karasu ga sore o, uneri o agete fukiareru¡­ Oh, Hi Officer Carl." The blonde nodded at the older man as he headed up the stairs past him, a clear plastic basket nearly full to the brim that read "Confiscated Items." It honestly amazed Greg how many students brought weapons to school, as if Winslow were literally a war zone. Sure, there were gang-affiliated students, but a switchblade? An X-acto knife? A literal wood-cutting axe? Seriously? Who needs this stuff? "Kid." The word came out rather heavily in an exhausted breath as the overweight security officer nodded back at him, thick brown mustache twitching slightly. As Officer Carl walked past him, Greg glanced back at the man, wondering how long he''d be at this job anyway. The guy was graying already, and not in a cool way like a celebrity or something. Like a regular non-rich old person, with a lot of gray just popping up everywhere. His Monopoly-man mustache, most notably. How old is Carl, anyway? Deciding it didn''t really matter, Greg shook his head. Of course, there were other security officers in the building but Greg always liked Carl the most. The man had known him for almost two years and yet, he never referred to the blond as anything but "Kid". Then again, Greg had never heard the older man address any other student with anything other than "You" or, occasionally, "You in the [color][article of clothing]". For that reason alone, he liked to think the man liked him, too. Shrugging, Greg continued walking downstairs. As he reached the first floor, Greg walked through the stairwell doors and began singing under his breath again as he made his way through the hallway. "S¨¡ kokoro no me mihiraite, Shika to ima o mikiwamero! Ushinau mono nante nai sa Iza mairou!" Singing something like this during the day was almost an invitation for the ABB to take offense, the large Japanese contingent of the group known to take umbrage for trespasses on their culture, even if certain recent aspects of that culture were literally from an alternate earth. There was a reason that Anime Club was basically code for "school-sanctioned ABB meeting", after all. Greg had to figure that one out the hard way. Man, it''s quiet in here. Greg couldn''t help but notice that the place almost seemed abandoned, even though there were a few students milling about the entrance and in a few of the classrooms. Without the halls being full to bursting and the background noise of thousands of students blasting his ears, the school just felt dead. Not like that was a bad thing, considering how packed the school usually was. Deciding to cut through the gym exit instead of leaving through the front entrance, Greg turned to his left and grabbed the crash bar, pushing the gymnasium door open without much thought. As he entered the gym, the blonde blinked hesitantly, eyes slowly widening as he took in what was going on. Sophia Hess stood surrounded by several taller boys, teeth bared as she held her fists up. It was rather easy to pick her out amongst the group of ten boys, her darker skin a stark contrast to their pale complexions. Sporting a bruise on one side of her face, the track star still looked as fierce as ever. As she circled the person, she spat to the side, one of the boys stepping back to avoid it. Two of them were blonde, the color obviously coming from a bottle as their roots stood out clearly. None of this was more obvious than on the person across from her, his tall frame nearly dwarfing the girl in front of him. Mal Duncan. Greg''s hands clenched into fists as he stared at the out-and-out Empire member, stunned expression turning into a frown as he saw the tall junior''s bleeding nose and the murderous look on his face matched only by Sophia''s. Eh, it''s just a fight, Greg thought to himself, shaking his head. It''s not like they''re trying to kill each other. Greg took a step backwards and turned around, only to halt with his hand still on the open door. Still, maybe...
Quest Created! Always Save The Girl Details: Help Sophia Hess from being attacked by Empire fanboys because¡­ well, just do it. Seriously, don''t be a dick. Success: + 1 Stat Points, 1,000 XP, Improved Reputation with Sophia Hess, Improved Reputation with Emma Barnes, Decreased Reputation with Sophia Hess. Failure: None
Really? Greg sighed as he read the quest box. It''s not that serious, Greg reasoned, trying to find a way to ignore the quest. I mean, it''s not like I have to do it, right? Quest or not, Greg wasn''t sure Sophia actually needed any help at all from someone like him. The girl knew how to fight and it wasn''t like fighting someone bigger than her was something she hadn''t done before. Frowning, Greg looked back over his shoulder as the fight continued. Mal lunged forward and swung at her, only for Sophia to duck under his arm and slam an elbow into the boy''s chest. The action made Mal grunt and stumble back and Sophia kept moving, grabbing the gang member by his shirt and pulling his already leaking nose down at the same moment she reared her forehead up. There was an audible crunch and a pained grunt from Mal as he reared back, away from an obviously exhausted Sophia. A thought came to Greg''s mind unbidden, a part of his mind wondering how long the two of them had been at this but it went ignored as Mal, wiping his bleeding nose and split lip with the back of one sleeve, said three words. "Hold her down." Are you joking? Greg''s jaw dropped. What kind of messed up... Mal''s boys, previously content to just watch the fight between their leader and a lone girl, moved forward at his word. Sophia whipped around as Mal had spoken, her expression a warning to anyone of them who wanted to try and grab her. Warning or not, the three of them didn''t seem to care as they moved in on her slowly, the girl outnumbered. Ughhh, now I have to do something! Greg let out another sigh as he moved in. Sophia, not one to take anything lying down, moved in and slugged one in the face, quickly backpedaling before any of them could lay hands on her. As she moved away, a fist struck her in the back, forcing a pained grunt from the black girl as she was sent sprawling forward. Barely managing to catch herself before she fell all over the hardwood, Sophia Hess whipped around again to see¡­ "Veder?" The question left her mouth the same time as it left the mouth of Mal Duncan, both of them confused by his sudden appearance. The natural blond stared back at the bottle blond, a tight smile on his face. "Hey guys, mind if I cut in?" "Veder!" Mal spat his name out like an insult as he ripped his hand away from Greg. "Uhh," Greg blinked at Mal as the lunk wiped his nose again, the smile on his face growing slightly less forced. "You already said my name, you know." Greg opened his mouth again to say something else, probably something insulting, only to stumble back as something pushed him from behind. "The fuck do you want, Veder?" This time it was Sophia who spoke up, the sweaty girl shoving him out of the way to face Mal again. "... I honestly don''t know." Greg shrugged, making a face as he glanced over at Mal. "I just heard this guy go all ''Hold her down'' and that just didn''t sound kosher." At that, Greg tilted his head to the right and winked at Mal and the peanut gallery. "Get it? Kosher? Jews? Ehhh?" Sophia shot him a look but Greg didn''t bother to look back at her, an angry grunt drawing his attention. Mal moved forward, a fist drawn back as he rushed at Greg. Wow, this guy is slow. Greg thought to himself as he stood still and watched the taller boy move at him as if wading through water. His fist came up, calmly batting away Malcolm''s punch. Mal didn''t pause, yelling out at the top of his lungs as he threw a haymaker. Almost rolling his eyes, Greg turned his head and watched as Mal flailed about trying to hit him. The bully barely had time to blink as Greg extended his other arm, plunging his fist into Mal''s torso with a hard jab. The junior grasped at his chest and stumbled back into his hangers-on, the boys behind him nearly falling over themselves as Mal crashed into them. The ringleader pointed a finger at Greg, mouth refusing to form any words as he tried to catch his breath. Audible or not, Mal''s friends got the message and two rushed at Greg, both of them coming at him like charging bulls. Seriously, don''t these guys know the rules? Greg thought to himself, leaning out of the way of an overeager punch and twisting to the side of an attempted tackle. Once their boss goes down, they go away. That''s how it works. Greg jumped back, grabbing the first guy''s wrist and pulling him forward with a harsh tug. Even as he sent the guy off course, Greg''s eyes widened as he felt something collide into him from behind him, a pair of hands locking around his torso. Pulling himself from the sloppy grip without much effort, Greg spun on his heels and jabbed his elbow lightly into his attacker''s chest, the guy stumbling back. Still miffed over the fact that Mal''s friends didn''t seem to understand simple confrontation etiquette, Greg gave the first Empire fanboy a quick jab to the chest, sweeping his legs out from underneath him before he could even stumble back. Immediately, Greg spun around and met the confused tackler again, side-stepping a third lunge and delivered a hard palm strike that sent him to the floor just like his friend.
Beginner Combat Level Up! 4¡ú5
Quest Success! "Always Save The Girl" Completed! Gained 1 Stat Point Gained 1,000 XP
Crossing his arms, the blond glanced over at the last of Mal''s friends, the lone brunette just backing away rather than get himself involved. "Wow," Greg spoke up. "That was lame. I mean, honestly¡­ I expected better." "You''re¡­ gonna¡­ pay¡­" Mal spat out hesitantly, one arm wrapped around his torso as he struggled to his feet. "Veder." "Mmmm¡­ ''kay." The taller, far more muscular, blond shot Greg an angry scowl and took a single step forward, as if threatening to lunge at him. After a moment of thought, he seemed to think better of it and backed towards the open gymnasium door, his two remaining friends leaving with him. The cautious, rather wary looks in their eyes were kinda funny, Greg had to admit. It was almost as if they had expected him to stand still and let them hit him. Man, that was badass, Greg thought to himself, grinning brightly as he held his fists at his waist. I''m so freakin'' awesome! "The fuck was that?" Greg blinked rapidly and whipped around, Sophia''s scowling visage the first thing he saw. "Oh, Sophia¡­ huh. I honestly forgot you were, uh¡­ here." Clicking his tongue, Greg gave a shrug. "Anyhoo¡­" "No!" Sophia cut in with a shout, glaring harshly at Greg. "What the fuck was that about? Why the fuck did you do that?" "Wh- whaddya mean?" Greg responded, stepping back slightly as Sophia advanced on him. "I just wanted to help." "Who the fuck asked you, though?" the shorter girl snarled, pushing against Greg''s chest. "Who the fuck asked you to push your stupid fucking nose in my shit?" "I don''t¡­" Greg began again, only to be cut off by Sophia. "Shut the fuck up! You keep pulling this shit!" The shout exploded from her, almost echoing in the empty gymnasium. "Every fucking day with you! Ruining my fucking life!" Unsure of what to say, Greg worked his mouth silently, blinking at the girl in front of him. "... I¡­ I thought we were just messing with each other," Greg smiled awkwardly. "H-having some fun, you know." There was a pregnant pause, Greg wincing slightly as Sophia''s expression seemed to distort the longer the silence went on. "Fun?" Sophia spat, her face a mixture of shock and anger. And like that, the silence was broken. "Fun?" Okay, just all anger now. "You thought messing with me, making me look weak and-and¡­ and pathetic was fun?" Spit almost came flying from her mouth as she pushed against Greg''s chest, barely moving the taller teen. "Well, hehe¡­" Greg chuckled despite the uncomfortable tension, trying to find something to say. "I don''t think I was doing that much but¡­" "No, no! Fuck you, Veder!" Her fist lashed out, Greg''s hand catching her smaller hand on instinct. Sophia snarled wordlessly lashing out with the other hand. Just like before, Greg caught it with little effort, leaving the shorter girl to throw herself pointlessly against him, bucking like a wild animal. "Hey." Greg screwed up his mouth, his gaze dropping to Sophia''s heaving chest in little more than a loose shirt over a black sports bra for a single moment before snapping back to her face. He reddened slightly, blinking rapidly. "...Stop it. You''ll hurt yourself." "Let. Go!" Sophia let out an angry grunt, struggling futilely against Greg''s vise-like grip. "I said, let go of me, you fucking retard! Do you fucking hear me? Let me go!" "Not until you calm down," Greg replied, frowning as she bucked at him again, the top of her head nearly scraping his chin. "You''re¡­ you''re acting all crazy. Like, more than usual." He tilted his head to the side. "It''s¡­ kinda weird." His words seemed to be having the opposite effect as Sophia seemed to buck harder against hip, her head jerking forward as if trying to headbutt him. Her lower body wasn''t idle either, with Greg well aware that the only thing preventing him from getting a knee to the nether regions was the way his body was angled away from her. "Seriously, Sophia, you need to chill. I''m just trying to help." The girl breathed heavily in his grip, struggle slowly leaving her as she tried to catch her breath. As she finally eased her fighting, Greg slowly let go of her and jumped back before she could lunge at him. Instead of resuming her attack, Sophia simply slumped against the folded-up bleachers, sweat dripping down her body as she took in deep gulps of air. Maybe she feels like listening now? Either that or she''ll try and bite my head off. Greg blinked at that choice of words. Why do I feel like that''s not just a turn of phrase? "So¡­ Sophia," he began, making sure to emphasize her actual name, "mind if I ask what''s wrong?" Sophia glanced up at him, her glare making clear to him that her temper hadn''t fully died down yet. "Are you fucking doing this right now? Greg''s eyes narrowed as he tried to understand what she meant. After a moment, he shrugged and decided to ask what he had been thinking. "Doing¡­ what, exactly?" "Asking me what''s wrong after you fuck up my rep, that''s what," she bit back tiredly, still slumped against the bleachers. Wait, what? Confused didn''t even begin to describe what Greg was feeling right now and he didn''t hesitate to voice his confusion. "Wait, what? Me? Ruin your rep?" Sophia''s fists clenched at her sides, the girl inhaling deeply before she cast her gaze back at Greg. "No duh, dipshit. What do you think it looked like when you won? You made me look weak. Pathetic. Like a piece of fucking shit, that''s what. And every single day, you push my fucking buttons, get up in my space, make fun of my name¡­ You just keep makin'' it obvious." "I¡­ I didn''t kn-" "Of course you didn''t," Sophia snapped, teeth bared in a grimace. "You''re a fucking retard. Why would you? Everybody else did, though. That''s exactly what they fucking saw." At this, Greg had to pause, the blond shaking his head. "I didn''t hear anyone talking about you like that, though. It''s still the same. You''re still tough and strong and¡­ you." "You would think these fucking sheep would talk about shit like that, wouldn''t you?" The black girl snorted, lifting her head again to give Greg another glare. "I''m not talking about them, idiot. I''m talking about the people who fucking matter in this shithole. The asians. The druggies. The Empire wannabes." Greg''s mouth opened into a silent "O". "Yeah," Sophia actually smirked as understanding dawned on Greg. "Now, you''re fucking getting it. They''re making it their job to come at me. To take me down. And they started ''cause of you." "Wow." The blond shook his head, uncomfortable with the weight of the bomb Sophia had just dropped on him. "Wow, I''m sorry, Sophia. That''s¡­ a lot." "No fucking duh." "Although¡­," a thought rose in Greg''s mind unbidden, the blond simply saying the first thing that came to mind, "this is kinda your fault too." Brown eyes met his blues in a glare that promised death. "Bitch, what?" "Well," Greg began, clicking his tongue, "You said I make you look weak but you''re the one making yourself look weak. Think about it, you don''t even fight back. You don''t call me names back or anything. You just glare and walk away." Greg shrugged his shoulders. The heat from her glare vanished, Sophia honestly putting some thought into Greg''s proposal. "And you think this''ll work?" "Couldn''t hurt, right. ''Sides," Greg grinned at the shorter girl, "It''s no fun when you don''t play along." "So, you want me to shit on you? Call you names? Really?" Sophia narrowed her eyes as she leaned away from Greg, almost as if unsure of what to make of him. "Fucking really?" "Well, duh, Sophie," Greg smiled at her words. An honest smile, instead of a smirk. "Although you''ll have to be more creative than that. You use the f-word a lot. It''s kinda boring." "Fuck off and die." The blond let out a slow sigh. "Eh¡­ it''s a start. It''s part of the fun of it. Who wants to mess with someone who just sits there and takes it?" Greg grinned, "Like, how lame do you have to be?" Sophia visibly winced, her fists clenching at her sides as Greg''s words seemed to hit her like a physical attack. Purposely stepping back, she turned to Greg with another piercing glare. "Veder, I swear to fuckin'' God¡­" "What?"
You have gained 1 CHA.
What? The glare slid off her face, replaced by an exhausted expression. "Nothing. Nothing. Just leave me alone." "If you say so." Turning around, Greg threw a wave over his shoulder as he began to walk away. "See you tomorrow, Sophie." The girl in question fought off a twitch in her eye as she stared at the blond''s retreating back. "Fuckin'' Veder." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As Greg Veder neared his house, the front of his yard lacking the neatly trimmed topiaries that his neighbors seemed to love, he paused in front of the driveway. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Turning his head, Greg blinked as he noticed a car parked in front of his house. Whose car¡­ Glancing back at his house, Greg shook his head and hurried up the steps to his porch, eager to see who had bothered to pay them a visit. Opening the door, Greg kicked off his shoes and walked out of the foyer and into the living room only to freeze at the sight of his mom sitting on the couch with a man. A man Greg was sure he had never seen before. Both sets of eyes turned to him as he rushed in, his mom''s own baby blues shockingly wide as she caught sight of her son. "Sweetie?" Greg blinked. "Hey, Mom." The teenager''s gaze turned to the man, taking note of his well-pressed black suit and tie. A few awkward seconds passed by, the two adults waiting for Greg to say something, as he seemed to be trying to at least. Lost for words, Greg simply said the first thing that came to mind. "So, I''m gonna assume we haven''t met before, then?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 2510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/486
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 14 (-80%) CHA 19 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 21
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.12 Aggro 4.12 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Lucas Veder tilted his head, blinking obtusely at the well-dressed man sitting on his couch next to his mother, a pair of mugs resting on the coffee table in front of him. After a few moments of this, he turned to his mom, the blonde woman smiling nervously at him, and repeated the same action. Several long seconds went by before Greg took in a long breath, closed his eyes slowly and shrugged before finally speaking to the strange man. "So, I''m gonna assume we haven''t met before?" The man''s mouth turned upwards into a slight smile at Greg''s odd comment and he let out a small chuckle. A well-manicured hand rose to scratch at his the side of his ear, brushing the side of his thick, brown hair before moving down to a smooth-shaven chin. "Well, I don''t think we have." With a slight raise of his eyebrows, he glanced towards Greg''s mother and gestured for her to speak first. "Ms. Veder, if you don''t mind?" "Greg," The teen turned to his mom as she began to get up from the couch but after a moment, as if thinking better of it, she sat back down and glanced back at Greg with an awkward, almost sickly, expression. "Sweetheart¡­" She seemed to trail away, unsure of what to say. Under his breath, Greg muttered a quick "Observe" only to freeze as he read what came up.
Marcus Cutler Lv 14 PRT- Special Agent HP: 280/280 A special agent within the PRT for the last seven years, Marcus Cutler serves to handle the more investigative and sensitive duties that cannot be delegated to the regular officers within the PRT who function more as a police for parahumans. Carries a Glock Model 22 sidearm. A fan of Les Miserables and monster trucks. Has connections with Fortress Construction.
"Mom, seriously." Greg interrupted again, a hint of nervousness trailing into his voice as he read the description of the PRT agent in his living room. "What''s going on?" Seriously, though, why is the PRT here? This made no sense right now. How did anyone know he was a cape? "Greg, sweetheart, Mr. Cutler just wants to¡­ talk to you about¡­ something. So, please, just¡­ just listen." She sat down again, raising her cup to her lips as she eyed her son. Greg sucked on his teeth, desperately wishing this was not what he thought it was. "... Okay. I''ll listen, Mr. Cutler." The man in question gave him a smile, Greg choosing not to trust it on principle. "Again, my name is Marcus Cutler and I work for the PRT. Now, I know you might be wondering why I''m here-" "A little, yeah. I might have been wondering that." Cutler stopped for a moment, pursing his lips slightly before a grin opened in full force. "Anyway, Greg¡­ Can I call you Greg?" "Sure," Greg allowed himself a smile as a thought jumped into his head. "I''d prefer if you called me Mr. Veder, though. As my mom says, I am the man of the house." "Like I was saying," the agent began again, "Mr. Veder, my name is Marcus Cutler. I serve as a Special Agent with the PRT and I''m here because we received a call - an anonymous call, mind you - that you were likely a new parahuman and we at the PRT simply wanted to provide you with any assistance you might need in dealing with your new status." Greg blinked rapidly, his mind slamming to a halt as he received confirmation of what he had been fearing. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at the special agent who dropped such a bomb on him. "So¡­ I don''t want to ruin this cape theory the PRT has about me, cause between you and me, being a cape would be pretty darn cool, but you guys do know that I''m not a cape, right?" The suited man raised a hand to scratch his chin and nodded at Greg, as if acquiescing to his point. "It''s perfectly understandable that you believe so¡­" "Uh, no-no-no," Greg interjected, pausing for a moment to shrug off his backpack. "There''s no belief here. I''d love if it if I was. If you''ve seen my room, you''d know that." he continued, pushing past his nerves by just saying what came to mind. "Thing is, I''m just not a cape. It''s that simple. Mom, you believe me right?" Greg turned to Susan Veder, already assured that his mother would have his back. Instead, she seemed to have not heard his question, gazing intently at the cup of tea in her grip. "Mom?" "Greg, it''s not that¡­ you''ve been acting a bit¡­" His mother glanced up at him slowly, almost as if she had to pull her gaze away from her cup. "¡­ odd recently and there''s a lot of changes you''ve been going through¡­" "Puberty? You mean puberty?" Greg snapped, hands falling to clench at his sides. "Just ''cause the puberty fairy gave me an extra big sprinkle of puberty dust, I''m suddenly a cape, Mom? You don''t believe me just because I''m suddenly going outside once in a while? Is it that weird?" "Sweetheart, it''s not that I don''t believe you¡­" "But you don''t," Greg interrupted again, his tone lacking any bite as he slowly spoke the three words. "Why? Why don''t you believe me, Mom?" Susan shook her head, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find words that just weren''t coming. After a few seconds, she just gave her son a weak smile and shook her head. "I''m sorry, sweetheart." "Wait¡­" A thought went through Greg''s mind and he froze, mouth falling open slightly as he stared at his mom. "D-did¡­ Mom, did you call the PRT on me?" "No!" Susan flinched as Greg asked her the question, her cup of tea sloshing wildly as Susan tried to steady it with shaking hands. "Greg, I-" "Again, Mr. Veder, I must repeat that the call was anonymous," This time, it was Agent Cutler who chose to cut in, raising a hand before Susan could say anything else. "The individual who made the call, or calls, requested that their identity be withheld and it is the stance of the PRT to never release any private information relating to parahumans who have not taken on a cape identity or individuals who report any information relating to them." "Of course it is," Greg said with a frown as he turned back to the agent. "But you can still come in here and accuse me of being a cape without any proof." "Mr. Veder, we received a series of¡­" Marcus tilted his head slightly as if thinking, before continuing, "tips from an individual who noted several aspects you were purported to exhibit. Aspects that we often relate to the appearance of parahuman abilities in young people." "Aspects?" "Again, I''m not at liberty to disclose the particulars of the information they released to PRT," Another smile that Greg didn''t believe crossed the agent''s face as he adjusted his tie. "I hope you understand." "No, I understand." Greg lifted his eyebrows, humming slightly. "I understand that you have information on me that I''m not allowed to know about from someone that you won''t tell me about and that might not exist at all, Agent Cutler." Greg snorted, shaking his head. "You know, If that is your real name." "Sweetheart, could you please stop and let Agent Cutler finish?" Greg blew air from his pursed lips, and slumped his shoulders in an entirely undignified manner. "But, Moooom..." "Greg, if you''re so sure that you''re not a parahuman, then¡­ then what''s the problem?" The older woman gave Greg a pitiful glance that almost made him want to tell his mom everything he''d been hiding. A moment''s thought was all it took to push that instinct away, Greg unsure of whether he could even trust his mom anymore, especially if she was the one to report him to the PRT. "I don''t trust ''im," Greg replied. "Well, not him-him. I''m sure Cuts is an okay guy but I just met him so I can''t really speak for that yet. You get me, right, Cuts? Can I call you Cuts?" "I''d¡­" The PRT agent blinked, shaking his head slightly. "I''d prefer if you didn''t, actually." "Fair enough, Cuts. I''m just..." Greg sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "not that eager to let some PRT guy tell me what I am just because of some phony, anonymous report that I can''t be sure actually exists." The next few moments were filled with an almost oppressive silence as Greg finished speaking, his words almost hanging in the air as both adults found themselves blinking as they processed his statement. Greg folded his arms, staring between his mother and the agent as he tapped his fingers against his arm. "Well," Agent Cutler broke the silence, "that''s certainly a strong opinion but there is a way to clear all this up. It''s rather quick. Just a simple test that we can do for parahumans." "Hmm." The young blond gave the older man a sidelong glance, clicking his tongue as he folded his arms tighter over his chest. "Is it geometry? ''Cause, you know, I kinda suck at Geometry. So, I''m pretty sure I''ll fail that one. Ask my mom. She''s seen my last few report cards." "Greg, stop it. Please." Susan turned slightly to face the agent, resting her mug on it''s coaster. "A test? You mean something like a physical? Or a blood test?" Greg raised an eyebrow at the mention of a physical, unsure of whether or not something like that would be able to detect if he was a cape or not. He wasn''t sure if he could maintain the lie in the face of actual proof but it wasn''t like they could prove he was Prodigy, or "White Knight" anyway. Either way, I could just say that I didn''t know, right? "No, no, nothing like that at all." Agent Cutler replied to Susan''s question with a smile, rubbing the slight stubble visible on his chin. "Much less invasive. No prodding or poking or anything that uncomfortable." "Oh, that sounds nice. Perfectly safe too, I assume." Greg frowned at the way his mother responded to Cutler, her tone coming off to him much the same way she would talk about going to the dentist. "Right, sweetie? Doesn''t that sound nice?" Greg hummed slightly, not really eager to respond considering his mom has already made up her mind. Fighting too hard would just make me look more suspicious, anyway.
You have gained 1 WIS.
"There is one slight stipulation," continued Agent Cutler, "that¡­ Mr. Veder might have a problem with." "What does my dad have to do wi¡­" Greg frowned slightly as the agent''s words hit him. "Oh, yeah, you mean me. Ugh, brain fart, sorry about that." Shaking his head, Greg thought over the man''s words. "What do you mean, ''might have a problem with?''" I might have a problem with a lot of things, he mused to himself. If you haven''t figured it out yet, the PRT showing up at my house is one of them. After another pleading look from his mother, the teenager let out a long sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, drop another bomb on me, why don''t you?" "We can only hold the test down at the PRT Headquarters, so we''ll have to head down there if you want to get down the bottom of this anytime soon." The PRT agent concluded his statement with a smile, one that Greg was really beginning to dislike. Susan smiled at her son, her expression wavering slightly as she noticed Greg''s own tight frown. "That shouldn''t be a problem, right, Greg?" "One question," Greg held up a finger as he fixed the agent with a raised eyebrow. "Go ahead, Mr. Veder." "... Am I being detained?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 2510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/486
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 15 (-80%) CHA 19 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 21
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.13 Aggro 4.13 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Ughhhh." He was alone, finally. Well, not really alone-alone. Still, close enough. His mother was in another room somewhere close by, led away by a woman in a pantsuit under the excuse of "filling out some forms", leaving her son all by himself with no parental supervision. Of course, he was left with a receptionist and a a smug-smiling PRT agent, so there was nothing to get all excited over. Still, he wasn''t exactly happy with his mom, considering she basically made him come down to the PRT headquarters despite how he felt about it. It wasn''t like Greg was enjoying himself, being required to wait inside a drab, boring waiting room, his body wedged into the slightly uncomfortable chairs that seemed to be the item of choice for all waiting rooms in existence. It was almost torture, really. Boredom writ large was an unusual cause of death but Greg was sure he could pull it off, forced to remain where he was with nothing bright, colorful or noisy to draw his attention. What else could he do but sit and wait? Where else could he go? As the pass around his neck visibly displayed, he was a visitor to the PRT building and like all visitors, he wasn''t allowed to go anywhere without a PRT agent escorting him. Ergo, he was stuck milling around the small, windowless waiting room Agent Cutler had brought them into, several floors up in the PRT building itself. Shaking his head, Greg focused his attention on the PRT special agent standing opposite him, the suited man engaged in conversation with the brown-haired woman behind the desk and partition. The woman had spoken to Greg when he had entered the waiting room area, offering him both a snack-sized bag of chips or a drink. Stomach roiling with nervousness, the young blond had politely declined. Strangely, the woman''s smile had dimmed at that refusal and the conversation just cut off there, almost as if she had nothing to say after that. It had all been a little odd, but Greg had shrugged, thinking she was probably busy anyway. As Greg sighed again in his seat, Agent Cutler turned away from the receptionist and moved over to the chairs, taking the seat directly opposite Greg. He turned his gaze over to the teen, the young blond letting out another "Huh" as he scoped out the waiting room for the bajillionth time. "Something wrong?" Greg blinked, glancing upwards at the agent as he pointed a finger at himself. "You talkin'' to me?" The bad Brooklyn accent wasn''t entirely intentional but Greg couldn''t help it, bored enough to launch into a whole bit. "You talkin'' to me?" Cutler didn''t blink at the reference, almost used to Greg''s slight attempts to get a rise out of him in the short time they''d been acquainted with each other. Rather than take the bait, he only smiled. "I am, yes. It just seemed like you were a little put off by something." "Well, yeah," Greg frowned slightly, easing back in his seat. "I''m getting tired of waiting. What am I waiting for exactly, again?" "That''s a good question." Agent Cutler settled into his seat, pausing a moment to brush some nonexistent lint off his shoulder. "I''m not exactly sure who we''re waiting for. Most likely, it''ll be some doctor or technician to run the short little test we have for you." The blond teen winced at the mention of the test again and turned away, his sense of nervousness spiking slightly as he tried to ignore the fact that he was probably going to be outed soon. Just deny, deny, deny. Letting out a shaky sigh, Greg glanced back up at the PRT agent only to realize that the man had been staring at him carefully the entire time, a curious look in his eye. "Are you sure something''s not wrong, Mr. Veder?" Cutler asked, raising a single eyebrow slowly. "You seem a little nervous." "Nervous?" Greg snorted, his sneakered foot tapping away on the drab carpet that Greg had probably seen a hundred times in a hundred different waiting rooms. "Me? I don''t do nervous," he continued, lying with a crooked smile. "Smooth, calm and confident. That''s the Veder way." Should I do the finger guns? Should I do the finger guns? Okay, maybe I shouldn''t do the finger guns. He did the finger guns, concluding his confident statement by shooting off several times before blowing out both barrels. Ugh, I did the finger guns. That was too much, wasn''t it? No, he assured himself, nodding his head slightly, it was perfect, Greg. Smooth, calm, confident. "Well, if you are," Cutler continued, choosing not to address the finger guns, "Nervous, that is. You don''t have to be. At all. You''re not the only young person here today, even. We''ve got one brand new Ward already, and someone else who''s about to join right now. The PRT exists to aid parahumans and regular citizens, not hurt them." This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. "Again, not a cape," Greg replied, voice tight as he spoke through a slightly strained grin. This guy thinks he''s smooth. Cutler smiled back, his teeth hidden behind his lips. "I didn''t say you were, Mr. Veder." Okay, maybe he is kinda smooth. "I dunno," The teenager shrugged, turning his head to the side for a moment to stare at an inspirational poster with Legend''s smiling mug centered on it. "Felt like you were implying it, though." "Well, I wasn''t implying anything. You just seemed somewhat nervous. All I was doing was trying to make sure you were okay." "Nervous? In a government building filled with secrets, weaponry and amoral government agents?" Greg blew air out of his mouth, approaching a sound that was nearly a whistle. "Why would anyone be nervous?" "Come on, now," Agent Cutler said with a chuckle. "That''s a little much, don''t you think? This isn''t a spy film or something. The government isn''t full of secrets and conspiracy theories. We''re up to our ears in paperwork here as it is." "I dunno, Mr. Secret Agent Man," Greg replied in a sing-song tone. "You sure you know your own country all that well?" "I think I do, Mr. Veder." "Alrighty, then," Greg continued tapping out an unsteady beat on the carpet, his eyes gazing into Cutler''s. "You heard about the MK Ultra program?" "I might have." Cutler nodded hesitantly. "It sounds somewhat familiar, yes." "Yeah," Greg hummed, wiggling both eyebrows playfully, "It was this little thing in the 60s where the government gave people acid without telling them and put them in a chemically induced coma for a few months to see if they''d get superpowers." "That sounds... terrible." Cutler closed his eyes and nodded, clearly regretting this line of conversation already. "Mmmhmm," Greg smirked, recalling knowledge gained from hours and hours trawling PHO and the larger internet, "there''s also the Tuskegee experiments, the time that the CIA released a bioweapon in Tampa Bay because they wanted to see what would happen, the other couple of times they released mosquitos filled with Yellow Fever just to see what it did to people, the time they literally released a virus in New York City just ''cause, and all the other human experimentation the US has ever done without telling people." "Okay," Cutler raised a palm in the air, his other hand resting on the bridge of his nose, "you''ve made your point." "I know." A smug look on his face, Greg settled back in his seat. Thank you, weirdos on the internet. Your teachings have won me this battle. "All of those ¡­ are," Cutler''s mouth twitched slightly, the man rubbing the top of his lip with a curled finger as he paused to gather his thoughts. "... are all very interesting points. Still, don''t you think the Triumvirate would have a problem working with the PRT if we weren''t on the up and up?" Greg shrugged, letting out a muffled sound that was easily translated as ''I dunno.'' He opened his mouth to bring up another point only to be interrupted by the sound of a heavy door slamming shut. The blond glanced up, his gaze following the receptionist as she made her way back into the room from behind the partition. The elfin woman didn''t bother sitting down as she walked forward. Instead, she leaned over the partition and gestured towards the wooden door entitled ''Examination Room''. "The doctor is ready for you. Right through there." Fuck. Ignoring the slight tremble in his hands, Greg nodded at her and glanced back at Cutler, the agent staring expectantly at the young blond. "Well, Cuts, moment of truth, huh?" Greg wasn''t sure if he was imagining it but he felt like the smile the agent gave him in response was far too smug to be just a normal smile, the expression bearing a little too much similarity to a smirk. "I guess so, Mr. Veder." Nodding at the man, Greg got up from his chair and walked over to the door in question. His hand shook slightly as he reached for the doorknob, only steadying once he gripped the cold metal and stepped forward into the all-white room that bore far more resemblance to a laboratory than a doctor''s office. The first thing he saw upon entering the room was a tall, well-built man in a buttoned up doctor''s coat sitting in a chair. The man glanced up from the clipboard he held in his hand, allowing Greg to see the man''s face, the young man blinking as he spotted the doctor''s thick head of black hair as well as a beard that looked like it belonged more on a lumberjack than a medical practitioner. "Hello, Mr. Veder. My name is Doctor Wells. If you''ll take a seat, we can get started." Aggro 4.14 Aggro 4.14 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Observe." His lips barely even moved, the word leaving his mouth without much of a sound at all.
Cameron Wells" Lv 55 PRT- "Doctor" HP: 480/480 A "doctor" working with close ties to the PRT since his youth, Cameron Wells takes care of a great many duties that the PRT has for him, often taking direct orders from Director Piggot herself. Likes working on his motorcycle and studying medieval weaponry as a hobby. Sense of humor is very underdeveloped. Has a low tolerance for people mocking him.
Blue eyes narrowed at the bearded man, his large muscles visible even through the baggy lab coat he had on. Rather than sit down like the doctor had requested just seconds ago, Greg remained standing. Several things about this situation screamed that there was something wrong to Greg and he wasn''t going to ignore them. The fact that the doctor looked and sounded like a mixed-martial arts fighter, the fact that this guy apparently took orders from the PRT Director herself, and the fact that "doctor" kept showing up with quotes around it. All of that was suspicious as all hell. But, the thing that really got his hackles raised was the "doctor''s" insanely high level, because... What the actual fuck? Greg struggled to prevent his eye from twitching as he stared at the man, giving him a once-over once more. Fifty-five? Fifty-fucking five? How do these fucking levels work? Seriously! I fought Lung. Lung! And I''m not even Level Twenty yet! What is this guy doing in his spare time? How many push-ups? How many sit-ups? What kind of juice does he drink? As he continued ranting inside his own head at how much things didn''t make sense, the man across from him simply raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Mr. Veder?" Motherf- Blinking, Greg paused his internal commentary and focused his attention on the "doctor" once more. Eyes still narrowed in suspicion, he replied with a dull, atonal "What?" The level of annoyance he could tolerate was surprisingly low today. First with Cutler and now this doctor who looked like the model for Brawny Paper towels, but manlier somehow. It''s like they both just got on his nerves without even having to do anything, really, and he felt like punching them in the jaw. Yeesh, do I just have a problem with male authority figures or something?
You have gained 1 WIS.
You know what? That''s¡­ that''s fair, I guess. Greg thought with a mental sigh. After shaking his head slightly, he glanced up at the doctor again. "What did you want me to do again? I wasn''t really paying attention. I was thinking about something more important." The "doctor" didn''t seem to take offense at the tone in which Greg replied him, simply gesturing to the examination bed. "Please, have a seat so that we can begin." Shrugging, Greg decided to do just that. As he sat up on the examination table, his head leaned back enough to touch the wall and he gave the "doctor" a smile, albeit one that was rather insincere. "So, eh, what''s up, Doc?" Simply taking Greg''s statement at face value, the man in the doctor''s coat just nodded and replied, "Nothing much. I feel rather pleasant. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions before we proceed with the actual testing?" Nothing. Not even so much as a raised eyebrow. The "doctor" had just breezed right past it as if he hadn''t said a thing. On the inside, Greg felt a smirk growing. You want to ignore me, huh? Let''s see how much you can take, old man. "Do I mind?" Greg asked disbelievingly, blue eyes wide. "Of course I mind." "Very well." The bearded physician slowly nodded before continuing. "To clarify, you don''t wish to continue the questions?" "Hmm, I didn''t say that," the blond replied with a click of his tongue. "How about I make you a deal? You ever heard of Twenty Questions?" Without giving Wells a chance to answer, Greg barreled on, waving his hand in the air as if to brush away anything he would have said. "Of course you have, what am I talking about?" Greg snorted and shook his head, accompanying the action with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, you ask a question, I get to ask a question. Back and forth like that. Seem fair, doc?" The blond smirked at the burly man in the lab coat, slightly hoping the man would agree to his deal just so he could ask him whatever random thought popped into his head. "I don''t suppose you''ll answer without reciprocation?" "Nope," he replied, popping the "p" as loudly as he could. There was a tense silence as the doctor simply stared at Greg, the young blond staring back at him with a closed-mouth smile that was becoming less and less forced by the second. Then, the man took a breath and glanced back down at his clipboard. "Alright, then, that seems reasonable." Greg made a satisfied noise, humming from the back of his throat. "I thought so too." Wells didn''t respond, choosing instead to lift a pen from his breast pocket and click it. "First question; How is your relationship with your father?" Greg''s smile froze on his face, the jovial expression dissipating slightly as he processed the question. What the hell kinda question is that? His eyes narrowed again as he nearly bit out his reply. "Terrible. How''s your sex life?" Wells paused his notetaking and raised his gaze, brown eyes meeting Greg''s blues. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, threatening to move up and after a moment, he replied in a calm voice, "Nonexistent." Well, dang. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Twenty-two Questions Later ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C "How often do you engage in strenuous exercise?" "A couple hours every day, every single day," Greg replied, smiling for the physician as he flexed his muscles like a bodybuilder. "How else do you think I got this stronk?" "Pardon me,"The doctor raised his gaze again, one hand moving to his head to scratch at the point where his thick black hair and beard grew into each other. " ''Stronk?''" "Modern lingo, doc." "Ah." "But, yeah, I do crunches, push-ups and drink plenty of milk." "That''s good to hear," Pen met paper again, the sound of scribbling filling the room for a few seconds." As a follow-up to the previous question, what would you say your diet is on an average day?" "Hmm, that''s a toughie." Greg put a hand to his chin, eyes gazing upwards as if he was trying to remember. "I''m gonna say anywhere between three to five sports drinks, preferably Gatorade, six to eight protein bars, an orange soda, some spoonfuls of sugar for an energy boost every now and again, a handful of beef jerky twice a day, two bags of snack-size chips, some Pixie Stix to wash that down and a cupful of dry Frosted Flakes before I go to bed." The blond nodded slowly, as he finished counting off his fingers. "Whole milk, of course." "...A-are you being serious?" Greg''s smile grew slightly at Well''s slight stammer, his expression shifting from the forceful blank that he had kept it as. Of course, he didn''t eat that much every day. Only special occasions¡­ So, about twice a week, "Serious as a heart attack." The doctor shook his head, his eyes slightly wide as he continued to write down what Greg had said. "Funny you''d mention heart attacks," the man muttered under his breath. "You are aware that this type of diet is terrible for your long-term health, completely unsustainable, and entirely inefficient when it comes to providing you all your recommended nutrients?" "Yes but all that''s future Greg''s problem," the blond said, smile growing again. "If he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The look that Wells gave him was one that Greg was intimately familiar with, having received it from several different people. Most recently, Sophia. "Okay, my turn!" Greg chimed in, kicking his legs as they dangled off the examination table. "Who do you think the hottest girl cape is?" he queried. After a moment, he waggled a finger warningly. "And you can''t say Narwhal, ''cause that''s just cheating." The burly doctor blinked rapidly at the mention of the Canadian cape, only to shake his head. "... I honestly haven''t given it much thought." Greg pursed up his lips and said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Then, I guess we''re done with the questions, then." This time, Greg was sure he saw the man flinch. "Fine, then. How would you classify ''hot''?" Wells replied suddenly, confusing Greg. "Is there a way to objectively quantify a measure of ''hotness''?" "I¡­ I don''t know," Greg stuttered. "At least, I don''t¡­ I don''t think so. If there was, I guess it''d be like¡­ like a mix of what makes someone desirable, I guess." "Succinct answer," was Well''s response, the man nodding along. "There would be certain important factors to consider; costume design, physical fitness, development of secondary sexual characteristics, inherent facial symmetry¡­" Is this guy for real? Greg blinked unbelievingly. As the doctor continued to drone on, Greg echoed his thoughts out loud a moment later: "Are you for real?" "Yes." Wells nodded again, taking Greg''s statement at face value. The man stretched a large hand back and grabbed a few sheets of paper from the desk behind him and layered it over the notes he was currently taking on the clipboard. "Allow me to think over this." Greg''s mouth snapped shut as he did his best to repress a laugh. "You do that." ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C 5 Minutes Later ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C "... In this case, if you examine conventional attractiveness, sexual display, and unavailability as the criteria which lead to most popular conceptions of ''hotness,'' the forbidden nature of the Simurgh would perhaps put her surprisingly high on the list. However, considering the Simurgh can''t be considered by any means a traditional ''cape'', in the sense that her humanity is suspect and any true appeal she might have once had is now relegated to the fetishistic and deviant, the prime option would have to be," Wells let out a soft breath, and clicked his pen once more, "The Library of Alexandria." Greg just sat and stared at the doctor who was apparently supposed to be questioning him. As he realized that the doctor had concluded his speech, Greg blinked a few times and let out a low whistle. "Wow, I just made you go into a lengthy analysis of "what makes a female cape hot?" and I just feel terrible about the whole thing. Mainly, because I didn''t take any notes. Mucho cred, doc." At that point, Wells eased up on the questions, announcing that it was time to move on to other things. And move on, they did. The burly doctor began putting Greg through a series of tests that involved much less verbosity and actual testing of¡­ things. Things like grip strength, testing his reflexes with that lame rubber hammer thing, a series of hearing and eye tests, and for some insane reason, a few minutes to play with a Rubik''s Cube. Greg wasn''t even sure what the last one had to do with anything, but he decided to play along and humor the doctor by just messing around with the cube anyway. After all, it wasn''t like he ever had any luck with the thing before, so what was the harm in playing with it now? At least, that''s what he thought before he got started. The one in his room was permanently solved on one side - the white face - because he''d read online somewhere that that was the one to start with. May as well get it there; this one was almost set up for it, and he could see the steps to rotate it into position. This is where he always got stuck, though. Moving to solve any of the other sides always messed up the white side. But turning it over in his hand, he was able to see how he might be able to get it done from a top-down sort of way, rather than one side at a time. He needed to solve the four sides touching the white one simultaneously, making sure to restore the white one with each pair of rotations. This was actually easier than he thought. He got a little lost in the process, trying not to let any of the moves get away from him, lest he wind up losing more ground than he was gaining. And then, all of a sudden, he''d made the last turn, and he was done. Greg blinked, suddenly aghast. He looked at the clock, then back at the perfectly-solved Rubik''s cube in the palm of his shaking hand. Four minutes and fifteen seconds. He''d never solved one of these before. Was this one set up to be easier? He glanced up at Dr. Wells. The man looked like he expected Greg to say something. The young blond forced a smile onto his face. He hadn''t realized just what his 50 INT had really meant. Until now, at least. He''d just... he had to cover for this. Greg pushed the first excuse that came to mind through his artificially smiling teeth. "Man, I just love these things. Could solve one in my sleep, you know? I''m awes¡­" He swallowed nervously, "Awesome like that." Wells didn''t say anything in response and simply offered the teen a slight nod and a knowing look, which Greg took as all kinds of bad news. The doctor reached over and gently palmed the Rubik''s Cube from Greg, before leaning back and placing it back on a tray sitting atop a cart full of other testing implements. Immediately after, the doctor stood up and Greg was left with the realization that his Brawny Man comparison was a lot of closer to the mark than he was comfortable with. The man had to be six feet even and his built body only made him more imposing. "Please follow me." With that said, he began to move, heading towards a door on the other side of the examination room. Did I just screw myself? The blond thought as he followed behind Wells, hands fidgeting with the loss of the cube to play with. ''Cause I feel like I just royally screwed myself. The doctor opened the door, making way for Greg to pass through first. When he did, his eyes widened again as he stepped forward into a space that seemed less like a separate room and more like an extension of the previous one. They both possess the same quality of stark-white walls and bright fluorescent lighting that shone right down into your eyes and seemed to reflect and make the walls an eyesore to focus on, making it a little hard to keep your thoughts straight. The important difference for this room was that it contained nothing at all but a single object in the center of the room and what appeared to be a control panel just a few feet away from it. The object itself appeared to be another exam table, only with no thin paper cloth covering the polished metal that this device seemed to be made of. Attached to the table looked like four arms, each one sticking out from the table and hanging over it in a manner reminiscent of a rectangular street lamp sans bulb. "Just lie down on the table and try not to move. We should be done within a few minutes," Dr. Well''s voice rang out, the door shutting behind him with a sound that seemed to echo around the mostly empty room. Greg glanced over at the ebony-haired doctor as the man walked past him, only pausing once he reached the control panel to the odd-looking device. Greg swallowed a mouthful of air again, and said, "So, do I strip or what?" Wells didn''t even look up as he replied, "No, that wouldn''t be necessary. This is a Tinker-derived H.I.I.D, a Human Internal Imaging Device, provided to us by Dragon. It can see perfectly through clothes, and even through the skin of some of the most durable capes in existence." The man paused for a moment before adding, "I''d request that you remove your shoes and socks, though, but that''s purely for hygienic purposes." Greg nodded slowly and began to pull off his shoes, slight beads of nervous sweat rolling down his forehead. Fuck this. Fuck this. Fuck everything. I should have just run when I was at home. I should have fought more. I should have drop-kicked Secret Agent McSmugman out the living room window. I should hav- "Mr. Veder?" Greg glanced up as he balled his socks together, deftly dropping the wad of cloth into one of his shoes. "Mmhmm?" "If you''re ready," Wells gestured to the exam table, "we can begin." Fuck. "Awesome." Greg laid himself down on the exam table, staring up at 4 rectangular metallic arms that seemed to serve no real purpose. At least, as far as he could tell. Well, moment of truth. The blond sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for the machine to start doing¡­ whatever it did so he could get this whole day over with. After a moment, he opened his eyes again, turning his head to stare at the taciturn doctor operating the control panel to his left. "Hey, Doc?" "Yes?" "You wanna hang out sometime?" "W¡­ what?" Greg held back a slight smirk as Wells blinked, the taciturn man''s attention torn from whatever he had been doing on the panel by Greg''s odd question. "You know, go to an arcade? Fix a car?" The expression on the blond''s face grew oddly wistful, his eyes not really looking at the doctor at this point. "Go duck hunting or something?" "Excuse me?" "Just throwing out ideas." Greg shrugged. "I don''t know what older men do to pass the time. Golf?" "No, you''re mistaken," Wells shook his head slowly. "I wasn''t judging your statements. I''m just confused as to how we reached this point in conversation." "Just trying to make friends. I''ve kinda been a dick this whole time, for no reason. Well, there was a reason but it''s not important," Greg added with a slight tilt of his head. "Either way, I''m always hungry for more friends." There was a pause in the conversation, Dr. Wells just staring at the smiling blond, a befuddled expression on his face. "Hungry probably wasn''t the right word but I''m not gonna change it," Greg continued as the doctor remained silent. "But yeah, I kinda felt bad for messing with you this whole time. You''re just doing your job, right?" "... I assume you''re messing with me right now?" Greg tilted his head to the other side and bit his lip. "...Would you hate me if I said yes?" Doctor Wells simply shook his head and turned his attention back to the panel. "I''d recommend that you keep your eyes closed until I ask you to open them. The scanners are very bright and I''d rather you not risk temporary damage to your retinas." Greg did as he asked, shutting his eyelids tight. "In exactly eighty-eight seconds, your results will be ready. Understood?" Fuck. Everything. Greg nodded slowly, the reality of the situation beginning to hit him. "I understand, yeah." "Good." There was a loud beeping sound, and even through his tightly closed eyelids, a bright flash of light filled his vision. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 2510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/486
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 16 (-80%) CHA 19 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 21
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
What Could Have Been (Original Ending to this Story) Something I believe I mentioned in the comments before was that this story would have ended right before Greg''s first fight, stopping after the chapter with the garage. The original ending for this story would have would have had three paths, a bad end, a neutral end, and a good end. Bad End: Scene is like the opening from like SVU or something where cops find the naked body of a blond kid shoved in a dumpster in Merchant territory with stab wounds. Greg would have died after his first fight and the E88 takes it as a sign of war from the Merchants and Greg Veder becomes a semi-martyr in the eyes of the Empire. After all, a teenage blue-eyed blond killed on Enemy territory would incite violence among a Nazi-type gang. In the end, a gang war breaks out and ends with Kaiser killing Skidmark personally. Neutral End: Greg ends up forced into the PRT''s hands after getting caught using lethal force on a Merchant. The Wards limit his growth and don''t allow him to wound himself to the extent he would like to and nor do they let him fight villains considering he has no training yet. Ergo, he dies fighting Leviathan due to having very little time and means to ramp up to any reasonable level. Think Captain America without the requisite skill against Leviathan. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Good End: The good end actually begins with Greg waiting till the end of the day instead of going out to fight the Merchants, where he tells his mother about his powers and decides to live a relatively normal life. To him, this means dumping all his first few points into WIS and CHA while grinding INT. Within a week or two, he''s finished with his GED and ready to enter college. Come Golden Morning, his mom and Sparky''s family have escaped Earth Bet with hundreds of millions of others in a universe-sliding ark he created through researching Professor Haywire''s tinker tech due to his interest in Earth Aleph Media. They land on a new uninhabited earth and with all his CHA, WIS, INT and related perks solely along those paths he was able to gain due to creating advanced medication to fix his problem, Greg Veder basically becomes the God Emperor of Mankind with nearly all that entails. But all that was before I decided to continue this fic with Tutorial 1.6, so those paths are NOT HAPPENING, if you all couldn''t already tell. If you want to write those as Omakes, go right ahead. (Canon Sidestory) Throne of Heroes I: A Heros Summoning Throne of Heroes I: A Hero''s Summoning ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C His legs simply moved forward in a dead sprint, the single-minded instinct of ''RUN! HIDE! RUN!'' overwhelming his thoughts. As he scrambled forward, his body running on pure instinct and utterly animalistic fear, the fear of death preventing him from doing anything else. Mind nearly lost to fear and the desire to escape, Shirou was entirely unprepared for the blue figure that suddenly appeared at his side, materializing in a shower of tiny blue lights like some sort of ghost. Shirou''s eyes widened and he made to dodge, but to his hunter, he might as well have been utterly frozen in place. A mouth of sharp teeth opened in a bloodthirsty grin and the man in blue spun in place, extending his leg as he did so. The boy was flung into the shed, the force of the blue creature''s kick nearly enough to shatter his ribs by itself. Shirou let out a pained gasp as he hit the ground, audibly groaning as he tumbled head over heels further into the cluttered shed. Without a doubt, he was bruised all over but he couldn''t stop moving. He couldn''t let himself die. Not again. He didn''t want to die. He had to live. To become a hero. To die without saving a single person¡­ what kind of hero was that? Grunting, Shirou pulled himself up, only to fall back on his elbows as he tried to clamber to his feet. As he hit the ground again, he winced as the harsh impact jarred his bones, his body still suffering from the previous powerful blow. His flailing hands grabbed onto a blank poster-board, Shirou instinctively applying Reinforcement to it in lieu of another, more capable item to use as a weapon. The rush of wind at his back screamed in his ears, announcing his killer''s arrival and Shirou lunged forward, twisting around as he unfurled the Reinforced poster-board in front of him. In a burst of light, the makeshift shield exploded into fragments of useless paper and Shirou was launched forward again from the sheer force of it. Heart beating like a rabbit''s, Shirou trembled in both pain and fear as he stared up at the admittedly handsome face of his attacker, a ponytail of blue hair blowing with the wind at his back. "It''s too bad, kid." The blue-haired spearman glanced down at him, a vicious smirk on his lips. He spun his lance, ending his flourish by resting the barbed weapon on his neck and shoulders. "You''ve got conviction, guts, a real fight in ya¡­ I bet you could have been a hell of a fighter in your prime." The lancer twisted his weapon again, spinning it into his hands in a series of movements that Shirou could barely track. His grip tightened around the lance as he pointed the tip at Shirou, his blood still dripping from the weapon. "Any last words?" Shirou stared up at him, raw anger and determination clear in his eyes. "When I was young," the auburn-haired boy placed a single hand over his heart as he stared daggers at his assailant, "the previous version of me died in an accident. I was saved by the most valiant act of heroism I could ever comprehend." His other hand clenched at his side, blood dripping from his tightened fist onto the floor. "I''m never letting that feeling go. I''m never letting it die!" As the blood dripped onto the floor, a blue glow began to shine from behind Shirou, a circle etched onto the floor responding to his unintended aria as the hand clenched to his chest began to subtly shine as well, an esoteric mark etching itself onto his hand. "Even if my body dies, the image in my mind of that hero will live on! And as long as I''m here, I''ll be the vessel that becomes that image! And save everyone in front of me!" Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! There was dead silence after Shirou made his emotional proclamation, fire still in his eyes as the superhuman killer stared him down, his head tilted in amusement. "Those are some spirited last words, kid. Still¡­ spirited or not, it''s time to say goodbye." The blue spearman raised his weapon, lifting it back as the mark on Shirou''s hand flared brightly, finally completing the image of three curving lines coming together to form a stylized letter "A." Lancer''s red eyes widened as the light caught his eye, realizing what that mark meant. "No!" Screaming at the top of his lungs, he plunged the bloody spear forward on a direct path for Shirou''s furiously beating heart. For a single instant, Shirou stared at the approaching tip of the crimson spear, the world essentially frozen in time in his mind. I can''t! I won''t! I''m not going to die like this! Still, there was nothing he could do to- "PLAYER ONE HAS ENTERED THE GAME!" "You''ve gotta be kidding me!" An explosion of light flared into existence, blinding Shirou as a powerful burst of wind filled the shed and forced him to shut one of his eyes, the teen''s arms raised over his face instinctively to protect himself from the elements. The sound of steel meeting steel in a violent clash rang out in the enclosed space, the blue spearman letting out a surprised curse as something slammed into him with audible force. Just like that, the wannabe murderer was sent flying out of the shed as if shot from a cannon. "Holy crap on a cracker, was that Lancer?" questioned another voice. "That was actually Lancer¡­ dope." As quickly as he could, Shirou blinked the dust from his eyes as he tried to catch sight of where it came from. "Who¡­" The words fell from his lips, utterly forgotten as Shirou stared up at the form of his rescuer, bright blonde hair and mirthful blue eyes staring down at him with a smile that seemed to shine with a brilliance all it''s own. Silver and blue armor framed his body, the heroic knight holding aloft a pulsing, golden sword as he stood in the doorway of the shed, moonlight framing his face like an angel''s halo. "Yo, Shirou, it''s you! Guess you''re my Master, huh?" The resplendent knight broke the silence, barely-repressed laughter audible in every syllable as he tilted his head to stare down at the boy that remained on his knees. "Don''t worry, buddy, I won''t let mean ol'' Mister Lancer get you!" Spinning on his heels, the blond turned his back to Shirou as he thrust his hands up in the air excitedly. "Talk about a Special Event Quest! A hero against Heroic Spirits! A battle for the ages starring the new King of Knights himself!" Throwing his head back, the self-proclaimed "King of Knights" let out a deep laugh, one that nearly came off as maniacal more than it was joyful. "Man, this Grail War is gonna be smashing!" The armored hero did a little dance as he spoke, his voice taking on something of a posh British accent at the end, before launching himself out of the shed in a burst of displaced air. "Tally-Ho and away we go!" As dust and blue motes of magical light continued to dance around him, the third-rate magus simply blinked in the wake of the giddy knight''s disappearance, unable to comprehend what had just occurred. "...what." Aggro 4.15 Aggro 4.15 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 12, 2011 7:39 PM The blond stared down at the collection of foods on his plate, his appetite nonexistent as he continued doing what he had been doing for the last five minutes. His spoon, held lazily between two fingers, drifted over to the mound of peas on his plate and a few of the green orbs found themselves trapped in his utensil, a thick spoonful of mashed potatoes holding them fast. "...Could you pass the potatoes, sweetie?" Without looking, Greg reached over with one hand to the bowl of potatoes just to his right and lifted them over the table as he handed it to his mother sitting opposite him. "What''s the matter, Greg?" Greg blinked, his name catching his attention. "You''ve been so quiet since we got home. Something wrong?" Greg glanced up at his mother, his lips pursed slightly as he stared at the easy smile on her face. The teen leaned forward on the table, his elbow resting on the hardwood while his other hand lazily dangled a spoonful of leftover mashed potatoes precariously between his finger and thumb. "Hmm?" "Greg," her smile wavered slightly as Greg inexpertly avoided the question. "You haven''t said a word in a while. You feeling okay? I thought you''d be happy that the PRT cleared up the whole nonsense about you having powers." Greg''s lips quirked upwards as he nodded, giving his mother just the barest hint of a smile before he dropped his head again, going back to moving food around his plate. Susan let out an audible sigh, her face screwing up slightly as Greg didn''t even look up from his plate at the sound. She repeated it, exhaling louder and heavier as she tapped her utensil against her plate. This time, her pursed lips became an actual frown and she dropped her spoon onto her plate in a huff. "Greg!" The young blond raised his head, staring into his mother''s eyes as she mock-glared at him. "Huh?" "How many times do I have to beg before...," Susan shot her son an expectant smile as he looked up at her, a slight huff escaping her, "before you''ll talk to me, Greg? You''ve been all moody since we came back home." Greg blew air out of his mouth, half-lidded eyes glancing up at his mom. After a few moments, he muttered something under his breath. Whatever it was, Susan didn''t catch it, but she didn''t press the issue, simply raising one eyebrow at her child. "I didn''t wanna bug you," he finally replied, still using his spoon to decorate his mound of mashed potatoes with ornaments of peas and tiny slivers of broiled chicken. "That''s pretty much it." "Well, come on, it''s not like that''s ever stopped you before, sweetheart." She said the sentence with a smile and a soft laugh, obviously expecting Greg to join in. It wasn''t long before her laughter trailed away to nothing and the smile on her face began to fade as Greg went back to his food, the teenage boy slowly moving the same spoonful of mashed potatoes around on his plate. "I just¡­ don''t know what to say right now." He gave a slight sigh, rolling his eyes. "Okay?" "Come on, Greg," Susan snorted, rolling her own eyes at her son''s absurd statement. "What have I said about lies in this house?" Blue eyes rapidly blinked in confusion, Greg shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a persistent thought. "Lies don''t¡­" The teen began, only to pause and stare up at his mother with an oddly serious expression. "Lies don''t belong in a loving family." "And don''t you forget it." Susan smiled at him before turning back to her food. "Mom?" There was a lightness to his voice, his tone bearing a fragility to it that hadn''t been present in over a month. "Yeah, swe-mpffee?" Her voice was muffled halfway through as she placed a thick slice of chicken in her mouth, her cheeks bulging slightly as she chewed. Her face was slightly comical and only grew more so the more Susan chewed, the chicken a bit too thick and far too dry for her to eat it comfortably, but Greg''s blank expression didn''t change much. "How come you get to break the rule about lying?" "Wha-" Susan tried to answer back through a mouthful of chicken but quickly found it pointless. Struggling to wash down the somewhat dry chicken with a gulp of water, Greg''s mother blinked a few tears from her eyes as she cleared her throat with a stammering cough. As she wiped her mouth with a napkin, Susan turned back to her son, a forced and shaky smile on her face. "Wh- wh- wha¡­" Her words were breathy and awkward, more gasps than anything else and as Greg simply looked at her, Susan seemed to only get more discombobulated. There was a tense silence between the two of them that stretched on, Susan trying to conjure up something to say while Greg just stared at her, waiting for his mother to respond. Holding up a hand, Susan grabbed her glass and began to take another long draft of water, seemingly to give herself time to think. As she continued to gulp down the tall glass, her eyes never left her son''s, his face bearing an uncharacteristically tired expression. The entire glass empty, her trembling hands set it down on the table with a soft clink, forgoing the coaster entirely. She looked over at her son again, fake smile weaker than ever. "I d-don''t understand what you m¡­ what you''re talking about, sweetie." Greg''s eyes narrowed a little, his lips pursing. "Second time." Susan blinked. "Wh-what?" "That''s the second time you''ve lied to me today," his lips turned further downwards as he paused, glancing down at his uneaten plate, "At least, I think so. I''m not really sure anymore." "G-greg!" Her voice jumped, slightly shrill as she gave him a stricken look. "I-I-I would never¡­" "Third." He blinked slowly, a bitter smile growing at the edge of his mouth. "Wow, you''re on a roll, Mom." Susan''s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the woman simply staring at her son with a shocked expression. "...Sweetie, It''s n-not like th-" "The first time," Greg began, cutting his mother off as he recounted his memories, "was when I asked you if you called the PRT on me." "I- I¡­" Susan shook her head, her face screwing up as she tried to force out words that refused to leave. "I don''t¡­" "You said no. That was a lie," Greg almost bit the word out, his eyes narrowing as he fixed his mother with a weak glare. "You lied to me, Mom. You hate lies."
You have gained 1 CHA.
"That''s n¡­ I didn''t¡­. But¡­ " Susan shook her head rapidly, her gaze fixed on her son. Her face flushed red, hands tight in front of her. "They said they w-wouldn''t tell you." "They didn''t." Greg''s fists clenched on the table, the teen wincing as his suspicions suddenly became an uncomfortable reality. His glare focused in intensity, actual anger starting to bolster it. "They didn''t tell me anything, Mom. I figured it out myself. It was kinda obvious in the first place." The teenager shook his head just the tiniest bit, biting back a cough as he stared at his mother. "I mean, who else? I literally have a friend -singular- and even if he thought I was a cape, he''d never rat me out to the government." Blue eyes narrowed again. "Because, unlike my own mother, Sparky actually trusts me."
You have gained 1 WIS.
His mother visibly flinched at that, her face contorting for a moment before she recovered. Her skin seemed to be getting redder and redder with each passing moment as she avoided her son''s gaze. Visibly trembling, Susan raised her head to look at her son again. "S¡­ sweetheart, you don''t understand," Susan brought her hands towards her face, nearly resting her head on her palms. "Things were happening to you! You were changing so fast. I was worried!" "That doesn''t matter, Mom!" Greg jumped up from his seat, shouting his anger at the top of his lungs. "You''re my Mom! You''re supposed to talk to me, not treat me like a criminal and rat me out to the government because you think I can shoot fire out of my eyes or something!" "Gr¡­ sweetie, I-" His mother paused, frowning for a moment before finally retorting with, "I thought you had powers, Greg! I didn''t know what to do! The PRT, they''re trained to help kids with powers, sweetie! I''m not!" "Really, mom?" Greg huffed, beginning to pace back and forth furiously. Words flew from his mouth, angry and bitter thoughts that he would never have given voice too before."You didn''t know what to do?" "No! I d-" Greg didn''t give her a chance, rushing over his Mom''s attempt to speak. "You couldn''t ask me if I had powers or anything. Was that just too much for you? That''s good to know. So, if I ever see you with blood on your hands, I''ll just lock myself in the bathroom, call the cops and tell them you''re a murderer?" Greg spat, throwing his hands in the air again. "Forget asking questions! Forget trying to help! I''ll just let the government deal with you! That seems fair, right?" Greg''s arms fell to his sides as he took in deep, angry breaths, his fists clenched tightly as he stared at his mother. Even as he stared at her, the woman was obviously fighting tears, her mouth moving up and down as she struggled to find words. "But that would be alright because I thought you were a serial killer and the government is trained to deal with serial killers, right?"
You have gained 1 CHA.
"Greg!" "No!" Greg interrupted again. "You would have shoved me off into the Wards and made me do whatever you wanted and acted like we were both happy about it, Mom! You know that''s what would have happened!" The blond let out a scream of frustration, throwing his hands out again as he turned his back to his mother. "You still treat me like I''m still five, Mom, and you do stuff like this all time!" "Th¡­ that''s not true!" Susan shouted in response, slamming her hands down on the table. Greg turned back around to face his mother as her spoon and fork clattered to the ground, scattering peas and mashed potatoes on the hardwood floor but neither of them bothered to glance at it, mother and son too busy glaring at each other in a way that was wholly new to the both of them. "Really?" Greg let out an angry huff, stepping closer to his mother again. "Because you freaked out when I started hanging out with Sparky the first time!" Susan clammed up again, her face becoming an entirely new shade of red. Greg watched his mother as she nervously adjusted her hair, brushing loose strands out of her face as she shook her head. "My birthday''s in a couple of months and you won''t even talk to me about teaching me how to drive!" Greg continued, too caught up to stop now. "I brought it up last month and you said you''d get me a new bike, Mom! When I tried to talk to you about it, you freaked out and asked me to go play my games! You do this all the time, you know! "You overreact and then you try to brush it over later like nothing just happened. All the time, Mom!" The teen shook his head, turning away from his mother with a tired expression on his face. "And now, you overreact and go to the PRT. How am I supposed to feel about that, Mom? You literally turned me over to the government." "I was worried about you!" Susan repeated, face screwed up as she brought her hands down onto the table in anger. "Sneaking out of the house before five in the morning, your body changing out of nowhere, and you''ve been spending so much more time outside¡­" "At my friend''s house?!" "Don''t even try that, Greg!" His mother screamed back, tears starting to stream down her face. "I remember that redheaded girl you brought into this house! Changing your hair, wearing your father''s cologne, dressing up every weekend to run out of the house and acting like I don''t see any of this! Do you think I''m blind?" Greg scowled, just now realizing how much his mother had paid attention to. Annoyance fueling him, he bit back. "No, but I think you overreact all the time! I think you don''t want me to be like other kids. I think you hate me not needing you for everything. I think you hate the idea of me actually having a girlfriend and I don''t even know why!" "What are you talking about?" Susan replied, falling back into her chair. Her hands came up to wipe tears from her eyes, one napkin already stained with makeup. "I don''t even know what you m-mean." "Come on, Mom!" Greg replied, groaning as he thrust his hands into the air. He stepped away from the dinner table, shuffling his feet in barely repressed annoyance. "You freaked out when Emma was over the one time. Yeah, it looked bad, but you didn''t have to act crazy, Mom!" "Crazy?" Susan shot back, almost reeling at Greg''s words. "Crazy? You think I''m crazy because I want what''s best for you? Because I want to keep you safe?" "No, I don''t," Greg shook his head, gesturing wildly in front of him with a single hand. "I think it''s crazy that you don''t give me any space. I think it''s crazy that you expect me to be inside the house all the time and I think it''s crazy that you won''t let me do anything without freaking out!" "... You know what? Fine." Susan slammed her hands down on the table, tears openly falling down her face now. She sniffed, drawing the back of her blouse arm across her nose. "You''re right! I''m wrong! You''re growing up! You should be able to do whatever you want and go wherever you want." Greg sighed at his mom''s tone, the sarcasm evident. "Mom, come on." "No, go ahead. Who''s stopping you, Greg? Join the football team and run around with as many sluts that''ll have you. You already have one," she hissed, her own hands in fists now. "Why stop there? You''ll get bored of her before you know it! You always do!" Me? Greg blinked in confusion, stunned by his mom''s crying rant as much as what she was actually saying. "Mo-" "And when you turn into your father, you can leave me and go spend the rest of your life whoring, drinking and gambling with a man who barely even looked at you while you grew up!" "Don''t compare me to him!" Greg shouted back, knuckles white as he clenched his fists tight. His father was a sore spot for both of them, his mother more than him, but it still stung to have that thrown in his face like that. "I''m not Dad!" "Then stop acting like it, Greg! Stop acting like it!" "I''m nothing like him," Greg fumed, his voice lowered to a tired mutter. He thrust his hands in his pockets and stared at the wooden floor, following the whorls and patterns with his eyes. "You don''t know what you''re talking about." Susan let out a sort of sobbing laugh, the sound lacking any sort of real joy. "Oh, I spent over a decade married to that man. I think I know what he''s like. He''s heartless, uncaring, greedy and he only ever thinks about himself and the money in his pocket. He never loved anyone! Not his own parents, not his wife and certainly not his own son!" There was silence between the two of them as Susan seemingly dropped a verbal bomb on the entire conversation. Mother and son continued staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Greg let out a breath after a few moments, the teen shrugging his shoulders as he looked back at his mom. "Y- y¡­ you know, Mom," Greg began, folding his arms together. He shook his head at his mother. "As bad as Dad was, I could never see him calling the PRT on me. Not without even talking to me, at least. I think¡­ I think¡­ I''d call that love."
You have gained 1 CHA.
Another silence filled the dining room, Greg''s words their own bomb. Susan''s expression seemed to crack the longer Greg stared at her as she sat there, her face shifting from anger to a painful sadness, as tears began to flow in earnest. "... I didn''t¡­" Greg licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Greg stepped forward, trying to reach his mother with an outstretched hand. "Mom, I d.. I didn''t mean it like th-" Before he could so much as touch her, Susan stood up from the table and turned her face away from her son. Tears dripped from her face as she fled the table, leaving Greg behind with his hand out, a regretful expression on his face. The teen dropped himself back into his seat at the table, leaning back with an exasperated sigh as his mother ran up the stairs, every single footstep loud enough for Greg to hear. Her angry footfalls continued as loud as ever until she finally reached her room, and the angry slam of a door was heard throughout the house. The blond sat up a moment later, his face falling forward to rest on his open palms. I could have let it go. I should have let it go. I didn''t need to tell her I knew. Greg couldn''t help the thoughts creeping up on him, used to excusing away his mother''s faults as simply "love." This time, however, those same thoughts were countered by other, less appreciative ones. She lied to me, though. She always talks about how lying is bad and evil and destroys families and she lied to me. She called the PRT on me. What kinda mom does that? Greg growled, the teen gritting his teeth as he slammed his fists down on the dining table. The sound of shaking plates and utensils met his ear in a din but the blond paid it no mind, slamming his fists down one more time with an angry stream of curses. The two of them had gotten annoyed with each other before, as family members often do, but to the point of both of them screaming and yelling? Never. Greg couldn''t recall ever screaming at his mother like that and he knew she could say the same. Whatever it was that had just happened between him and his mother was almost historic. I yelled at her. He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one palm. I screamed at her. Called her crazy. Bitter feelings crept back up again, Greg fighting back the guilty thoughts as he remembered what his mom had said. She called Emma a slut, though. She doesn''t even know her. She said I was like dad. She called me heartless, greedy, a monster. What kind of mom does that? Guilt and bitterness continued waging a war inside his mind as Greg let out a quiet groan, sinking down further into his seat. "Something has to be wrong with me." Greg already knew that, though. When the results were basically shoved right in his face, what else could he do but accept them? ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Three Hours Ago ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C The teenager sat atop the futuristic exam table as he faced Doctor Wells. He was silent, as he had been since the doctor had informed him the scan was complete just a few minutes ago. A few minutes ago. Greg blinked, a slight undercurrent of nervousness working its way up his chest as he continued watching the man with a silent intensity. He had spent more time simply waiting in here than he had taking the test, nearly a full five minutes of raw, nervous silence as the doctor read screen after screen. Part of him wanted to shout, just to startle the man enough to make him say something. The rest of him really wished this moment would last forever, where he was still just some normal kid to the PRT, someone they''d have no reason to care about. Realistically, he knew that wouldn''t work out. He knew what the doctor was seeing on those results and he knew what was going to happen next. Sighing, Greg muttered to himself, "Let''s just get this shit over with." "Doctor." The man looked over the screens, the pair of glasses on his nose tipping forward ever so slightly with his movement. "Yes?" "The results." Greg paused to lick his lips and raised the back of his hand up to his face, brushing the space between his lip and nose simply to scratch an itch. "It''s been almost five minutes and¡­ well, you''ve been real quiet." The doctor nodded at Greg, raising one hand to scratch at his thick beard as he did so. "I have been, yes. I was just looking over the results to get a detailed understanding of your situation." "And?" Greg asked, not in the mood to drag things out. If he was going to get exposed, better it happen quick like a band-aid than torture himself by having it be stretched out forever. "What did it say?" Doctor Wells looked at Greg over the brim of his glasses, his expression unreadable. "You''re asking if you''re a cape, you mean?" The teen nodded slowly, gulping slightly as the doctor narrowed his eyes at him before casting another glance back at the screen. "Yeah, that''s what¡­ what I want to know." Wells mouth turned down into a frown, the sight of it barely visible through his thicket of a beard. His hands clasped behind his back, the man pulling himself to his full height. "Mr. Veder, according to the scans, I truly can''t say. The results are at best inconclusive." "...What?" The teen blinked at the man, less in confusion and more from the sheer shock of what his words meant. "I d-don''t¡­" Licking his lips again, Greg continued. "I''m not sure what you mean." The doctor shook his head slightly, muttering something under his breath as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "First, let me explain something," he began, rather loudly, "the overwhelming majority of parahumans possess a formation in their brain called the Corona Pollentia as well as another lesser portion called the Gemma located somewhere between the frontal and parietal lobes. "Roughly eight percent of these growths are so oddly placed or shaped that they cannot be detected using a traditional MRI. However, this device," the doctor paused, his teeth gritted for some odd reason, "is designed to surpass the function of any conventional method of scanning the human body, with a very thin margin of error." Greg sat back listening to the doctor explain the situation with nothing but a blank expression on his face, well aware that the only reason he wasn''t outright grinning was because he had the foresight to bite his lip. "So, what you''re saying is that I''m within that margin of error?" "What I''m saying is that officially, the H.I.I.D. could not detect the presence of either a Corona Pollentia or Gemma within your body. That presents us with two options. Either you fall within the very slim margin of error of the H.I.I.D. or you have no potential at all to be a parahuman. As your body displays a few minor¡­ oddities," Wells took a breath, rubbing his nose again, "I''d assume it was simply the first. However, none of these differences are necessarily out of human possibility. So¡­" This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Greg raised an eyebrow. "So?" "I have to ask," Wells stepped around from the screen, his arms folded across his chest, "have you come into contact with any Tinker-derived substances?" "You mean Tinker drugs, right?" Wells nodded stiffly. "Not that I can remember, doc," Greg said with a shrug. "Besides, cool kids don''t do drugs." "That''s¡­ that''s good to hear." Wells told him, the man''s large hands holding onto his clipboard with a tight grip. "Unfortunately, this officially means that you are not a parahuman, in the legal sense." "Mmm." Greg closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "Tragic." "Indeed." "Sooooo, now that the big mystery is cleared up," Greg raised his eyebrows as he pointed to the door, "mind if I get on out of here?" "Actually, there''s something I''d like to discuss with you first." Wells dropped the clipboard at the terminal next to him, crossing his arms in front of him again. "I''d rather you hear this before you leave." "Come on, doc," Greg sighed, glancing sidelong at the doctor as he kept one eye on the door. "Is it really that important?" "I''d like to think it is," Wells replied, in his blunt, measured tone. "It''s something I have some level of experience with at least." "Of course it is," Greg murmured to himself, letting out a slight groan. Shaking his head, he continued. "Okay, what is it?" The doctor was quiet for a long moment, the odd silence seeming to stretch as he kept his gaze locked on Greg. "Doc?" Greg asked, leaning back slightly from the man''s intense stare. "Tell me. Have you ever heard of Aspergers?"
Ambiguous Disorder Diagnosed: Asperger''s Syndrome Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.)
¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Now ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Bip-bip-bip Blue eyes blinked slowly, Greg raising his head from his palms as an annoyingly familiar noise hit his ears. As he felt the vibration in his jeans, Greg quickly realized what that vaguely annoying sound was. Reaching into his trouser pockets, he pulled out his candy blue flip phone and stared at the caller ID of the person texting him. A smile slowly crept across his face, replacing his forlorn expression. "Huh. Emma." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 2510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/486
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 17 (-70%) CHA 22 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 21
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Understandings Cutscene: Understandings April 12, 2011 7:21 PM As he closed the door behind him, the bearded man stood in place. He tilted his head slightly, nodding at the figure across the room as she stared over at him. "Director." The director of the PRT didn''t move, her hands latticed together over her face as she stared at Armsmaster. Behind her was a series of tall windows interspersed by symmetrical portions of silver wall paneling, the entire set spanning the length from floor to ceiling despite each port not being much wider than the director herself. "Colin." The word came with a slight nod of her own, the veteran cape taking that as permission to continue. He strode forward, the leather soles of his oxfords audible against the white tile flooring. Armsmaster pulled out the seat directly across from the director, the contents of his hands resting in his lap as he sat down. Taking off the cosmetic glasses he had worn for the last few hours, he placed them in his jacket pocket and lifted his gaze to the director. "So¡­" Colin Wallis needed no further prompting. "It''s not him." The rotund woman actually raised her eyebrows at this, giving the man in front of her a look that most would call incredulous if it wasn''t for the tense scowl on her face. "You''re joking." "Very rarely." "I don''t understand." The woman leaned back in her seat, exposing her mouth as she kept her hands still laced in front of her. "We''ve had knowledge of him for over a week. A total of four calls named him as a potential trigger. Two of those were from his mother." The bearded man tipped his head forward. "I''m aware of the particulars." "Then how is he not being prepped for the Wards as we speak?" Piggot punctuated the sentence with a palm meeting the thick wooden surface of her desk, the impact sending some loose pens rolling off the side of the large bureau. "This should have been simple, Colin." "Again, I''m well aware of what was assumed, Director," he responded bluntly. A hand rose to scratch the side of his face, a slightly red patch of skin still remaining from where Colin had forcefully removed the false addition over his beard. "Those assumptions were wrong." "I very much doubt that." Piggot huffed as she leaned forward on her desk, her gaze leaving Colin''s for a moment. "That may be but it does not take away from the fact that there is very little to doubt at this point," the large man responded, his voice tinged with clear annoyance despite the flatness of his tone. Piggot didn''t seem to notice, and if she did, she chose not to comment on it. "Greg Veder has no corona and no gemma, at least nothing definite that would point to him being a parahuman. In the extremely unlikely possibility that he is a parahuman, he''s not the one we''re looking for. Besides, any of the tests he did take would at best label him a low-level Thinker of some sort." "With that said," The cape opened the folder, pulling out a full-color glossy picture of what appeared to be a figure in a silver, blue and white costume wielding a sword. The steel-scaled visage of Lung bearing down on the cape was easily recognized, even with the bright flames and slight blur in the image. "Whoever this is, I can say with certainty that it isn''t the boy I tested today. Nothing in his scans would decisively out him as a parahuman. Again, we could make the argument for a Thinker - possibly a Tinker - but our position would be¡­ shaky, at best." "You realize that makes no sense at all. He''s an average-height, blue-eyed blond in his mid-teens." Piggot rumbled, leaning forward even further. "How many teenage boys in this city could there be to match that description perfectly?" "Over twenty-one hundred," Colin shot back robotically. The cape raised an eyebrow as Piggot''s own eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly at the relatively large number. "What?" Piggot''s hissed response was as much surprised as it was angry, the heat in her tone still present when she repeated herself. "What?" Colin nodded his head, flicking through the stack of papers in front of him with a detached interest. "That''s roughly the amount of adolescent males in Brockton Bay with natural, light blond hair and blue eyes between the ages of thirteen to eighteen with a height ranging from one hundred and sixty-five centimeters to one hundred and seventy-five centimeters. A rather large amount," Colin added, nodding again. "Interestingly, it more than doubles when you take into account those with dyed hair." Piggot leaned back in her seat, a resigned expression spreading across her face. "So¡­" "So, while he does fit the physical parameters, it''s highly unlikely - bordering on impossibility - that Greg Veder is a parahuman, let alone a high level parahuman. At least, not one with any sort of power to take on Lung in a direct fight and live." "I just don''t get it. Everything seemed to point to him. The morning after the Lung fight, his mother called us¡­ Who else could¡­" Piggot cut herself off with a sigh as she dropped her elbows onto the desk, her interlocked hands nearly level to her mouth once more. Her deepened slightly as she spoke, her eyes narrowed in frustrated confusion. "Were the results that conclusive?" "Not at all. The findings were actually rather confusing." Armsmaster took a deep breath, the man pursing his lips as Piggot stared at him, even more confused. As she opened her mouth to speak again, Armsmaster quickly continued. "The device used, one Dragon created and that I improved on, had such a low margin of error that the idea of it missing the existence of any growth or development in the brain that differs from the norm is almost laughable." The Protectorate leader cut himself off there, his teeth snapping shut as he openly grimaced for a moment, his eyes glazing over as he seemed to stare past Piggot. A moment later, he glanced down at the thick stack of papers resting on his lap, all of them held together in a manila folder. "In fact, the device managed to uncover several aspects of his brain that should have been harderto determine than the existence of any corona or gemma." Piggot frowned, casting a sidelong glance at Armsmaster. "Such as?" "While I don''t have any classical training in neurology or medicine, I''d have to say that his synaptic plasticity and the frankly absurd amount of synaptic connections in his brain deserve to be noted. That, along with several highly developed lobes of his brain, with the stark exception of his prefrontal cortex," Armsmaster replied, shuffling through several sheets of paper. Pulling out several sheets from the stack on his lap, Armsmaster slid them forward over Piggot''s desk, the woman picking them up to skim through. "What am I looking at, Colin?" Piggot questioned, her gaze roaming across each sheet of paper without much interest. "What is all of this¡­" she gestured over the papers in front of her dismissively, "supposed to mean to me?" "It means that Veder has the rapid learning capacity of a child less than half his age," Armsmaster remarked dispassionately, still looking through the papers in front of him. "Along with having an almost abnormally developed muscular system entirely out of place on anyone who isn''t a professional, Olympic-level athlete." "Meaning?" Piggot questioned further, her tone growing heated. Glancing up at the woman who was growing more impatient by the second, Colin cocked his head to the side, a slight frown forming on his own face. "Meaning one of two things, most likely. As his body doesn''t fit his unlikely Thinker diagnosis, it has to be expected that either Greg Veder is a sufficiently capable Bio-Tinker, or he''s come into contact with a Bio-Tinker who''s managed to stay under the radar for long enough." Piggot raised a hand to her face, pinching her sinuses. Armsmaster raised an eyebrow as she began to mutter what was most likely a litany of profanities under her breath. As the director finished, she raised her gaze to Armsmaster and let out a low breath, annoyed frustration written all over her face. "A Bio-Tinker, Colin? We''re dealing with that on top of that White Knight situation?" "I¡­" Armsmaster paused, hesitating as he looked back down at the bundle in his hands. He breathed in again, nodding. "I believe that it''s a possibility, yes. The latter far more than the former, considering his lack of corona. He was possibly administered some sort of serum to enhance brain function, and likely another designed for either rapid muscle development or myo-augmentation." Piggot huffed again, her hands forming fists on top of her desk. "Colin, are you sure about this? Is there a Bio-Tinker running rogue in this city?" The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Armsmaster fell silent for a moment, the bearded man frowning at the director''s hissed words. "Director, I have made clear that I believe it''s a possibility. My opinion could be completely wrong. However, it still remains that it is the most plausible situation I can come up with." Piggot cast her gaze off to the side before turning back to Armsmaster, her eyes narrowed. "Did you confront him?" "Veder flatly denied it when asked, but there have been rumors circulating for years that such formulas are regularly sold on the black market. Either way, the H.I.I.D. isn''t designed for chemical analysis in the first place. It''s purpose is to scan certain aspects of the human and parahuman body in addition to the brain, all to determine the effects on parahuman abilities on the rest of the body; bone structure, cardiovascular system, electromagnetic signature¡­" Armsmaster shook his head as the director continued to stare at him as if this situation was somehow his fault. "Expecting it to do bloodwork and DNA testing on top of everything else is asking for far too much." "Then why on earth did you let him leave?" Piggot responded immediately, her face reddening. "Grill him. Get a blood sample. Make the boy piss in a cup, dammit! It was bad enough we had someone good enough to nearly kill Lung running around. Now, a Bio-TInker?" The large woman took in a heavy breath, her jowls trembling as she did so. "I requested you handle this for a reason, Colin! I wasn''t aware you''d just let him walk!" "And I wasn''t aware that you wanted the Youth Guard to launch yet another lawsuit against the PRT," Armsmaster shot back, his words as blunt as his tone was hard. "If they were to catch word of this, it would only allow them more power over the PRT as a whole." "The Youth Guard?" Piggot reddened further, her hand meeting the table again. "Those irritating¡­" Piggot''s words devolved into another round of frustrated muttering, the woman pausing after a few seconds to take a deep breath. "... a group of soccer moms with an agenda, each and every single one of them bent on making my job a living hell. The boy isn''t even a Ward yet. How would this be their problem?" "Strictly speaking, any PRT involvement with a minor could be considered as part of their jurisdiction." Unconcerned by Piggot''s mood, Colin gave the woman a flat look as he continued. "What they would view as the PRT attempting to set a legal precedent by expanding the definition of what could be classified a parahuman, would inherently be taken as an attempt to encroach on all non-parahuman minors." Piggot looked the man across from her in the eye, a scowl still on her face. "I suppose," she replied, conceding the point. "Still, I doubt they''d be aware unless someone actively spread the information." "Testing to determine what substances are in Greg Veder''s blood would require a lengthy period of lab work, involving blood screening, hormone testing and possibly DNA sequencing. These are not processes we can handle in this building, further increasing the chances of his situation being brought to public attention. Our position is untenable as it is and Veder already has quite a low view of the PRT so for him to remain silent about it would be unlikely." Colin frowned, folding his hands in front of him as he continued to give the director a blank stare. "Frankly, I doubt he''d even consent to giving us his blood or DNA in the first place." Piggot frowned, her fingers once again meeting the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me what you think then, Colin. I''d ask Renick but the man''s out sick again." She scoffed, turning her head away from the parahuman in front of her for a moment. "Weakest constitution I''ve ever seen in a man, that one." "My opinion?" Colin replied, pursing his lips. The man glanced at the director with a pensive expression, one hand at his chin. "I doubt you''d appreciate it." Piggot''s frown deepened, the woman scowling again at Armsmaster''s dismissive tone. "I asked for your opinion, Colin. It doesn''t matter if I like it or not. Now, what do you think?" Colin Wallis sighed, his uninterested expression likely not winning him any points with the director. "We ignore him." "What?" Piggot''s response was as vehement as Colin had expected, the man doing his best not to openly sigh again in the face of her annoyance. "Ignore him? We potentially have a rogue Bio-Tinker in this city and you want me to ignore our only lead? You must be joking." The Protectorate leader simply glanced at the director, tilting his head as if in recognition of her point. "That may be but our only real option is to ignore the fact that he exists. As of now, the PRT have no proof that Greg Veder is anything more than a genetic aberration," Colin continued, sliding forward a sheaf of papers with a disaffected expression. He turned his gaze to the side, ignoring the director''s still-reddened face. "Of course, a case could be made to classify him as a parahuman, but the Youth Guard would most likely get involved, and regardless of the high chance of the PRT losing that case, the PR fallout would be disastrous in the public eye." The director grimaced, her eyes narrowing further the longer she stared at Armsmaster, almost as if willing him to change his mind with the force of her will. "You''re not entirely wrong." Colin decided to take the concession as a victory, fighting the desire to smile in the stubborn woman''s face. Successfully ignoring the urge, Armsmaster made to stand up. "If that''s all, director?" "Actually, it isn''t," Piggot snapped back, the signs of irritation still present on her face. "Now, sit. We still have more to discuss." The urge to smile was quickly replaced with a compulsion to scowl at the director, something that Colin didn''t feel nearly as strongly about ignoring. His expression conveying every bit of his displeasure of being ordered around like an animal, Colin found himself doing just that, dropping himself back unto the seat opposite Director Piggot once more. "Yes, Director?" "Have you spoken to our newest Ward recently?" "Browbeat?" Confusion began to eat away at the displeasure he usually felt the more time he spent with Piggot in close quarters. "I recall speaking to him a few weeks ago. We discussed methods to increase his effectiveness in the field. Why is that a matter of discussion?" "No, not him," Piggot said with a shake of her head, waving her hand dismissively at the mention of the PR-shy Ward. "I''m talking about the newest Ward." As Colin continued to stare at her, Piggot decided to clarify. "Lady Bug." "Ah, that one," Armsmaster blinked and tilted his head to the side as if he remembered something, but continued on without hesitating. "I wasn''t aware that she chose to join." "The girl didn''t have much of a choice, really." One side of the director''s mouth rose up in a proud smirk, the woman interlacing her hands together on top of her desk. "Once you and Hannah brought her in for medical treatment, she gave up her father''s number without much of a fight. "We told him that she got hurt trying to take on Lung and the man''s face just broke. I doubt I''ve ever seen a parent that enthusiastic about the Wards before." Her smirk widened a little more. "You have to appreciate concerned parents¡­ at least when they make you job easier. Anyway, like I was saying..." As she spoke, Armsmaster continued to nod slightly at his direct superior, seeking to give her the impression he was following along while he waited for her to finally let him leave. There were some days, he thought to himself as he gave the woman another nod, that the idea of ever joining the Protectorate seemed to be a mistake. "Your thoughts, Colin?" Sighing internally, Colin Wallis wondered if Dragon would appreciate him as a new member of the Guild. International heroics as the reclusive Tinker often described them sounded better and better to the Protectorate leader, especially when compared to dealing with the figure in front of him for yet another aggravating day. Freedom to Tinker without governmental oversight, the ability to make decisions without a powerless battle-axe constantly seeking to overstep her bounds while shrieking at others for doing the same, and most important of all, a feeling that he was actually stopping criminals. Was that too much to ask? He didn''t think so. Colin knew that he could never do it, of course. Regardless of his disdain for the woman breathing down his neck every single day, Brockton Bay was his city. Still, it never hurt to think about options. Pushing away the pointless thoughts of potential freedom with a shake of his head, Colin opened his mouth. "Actually, Director¡­" (Non-Canon) What If: A Darker Path I What If: A Darker Path I ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C APRIL 12, 2011 1:23 AM EDT The alley was dark, much like the rest of the streets in this part of the Brockton Bay Docks. Really, it would have been entirely pitch-black if it wasn''t for a single light bulb perched high above a door that led to a building owned by whatever unfortunate soul dumb enough to buy property in Merchant territory. The only source of light in the alley fought to stay on for longer than a few seconds at a time, the thing flickering like a massive firefly. Even then, it might have been better if it just died. While the encroaching blackness that filled most of the Docks at night was more than intimidating enough on its own, darkness warning the decent people that criminals and scum would soon be roaming the night, the barely-there and intermittent illumination the light bulb provided added another level of uncertainty to the entire equation, making this alley a bit more nerve-wracking than most. The darkness was terrifying, true. Still, light like this only served the purpose of making the things in the dark feel alive, what with the ways the shadows shifted and shook under the unsteady lighting. And as some people in Brockton Bay could attest to in these last few weeks, the creatures hiding in the dark were very much alive. That didn''t seem to bother some others, though. After all, it''s well known that in nearly any imaginable situation, there will always be those few that were either too stupid or too optimistic to heed common sense, continuing on whatever their path may be, regardless of whether or not that path put them directly into a dangerous situation. Case in point, the blond boy walking down the alley right now with a playful rhythm to his steps and a gait far too unguarded for anyone near a gang-held territory of any sort. Snapping his fingers to the beat that pounded through his ears, Greg Veder hummed along to the song on the cassette tape player in his pocket, an 80s antique that his mother had no problem letting him have. His other hand was hidden in the depths of his baggy hoodie''s front pockets, a slight bulge showing up around near his stomach on occasion as he played with the object he had hidden inside. Greg Veder knew, on an intellectual level, that he really shouldn''t be in the Docks right now. After all, the PRT had done a very good job in informing the public of the suspected parahuman serial killer going around on a killing spree throughout gang territory. Bloody scenes were found every night with gore painting the floor and walls, bodies torn apart, ripped to shreds, and occasionally beaten to death without leaving a single scrap of evidence that could lead to an identity¡­ a true master of their blood-curdling craft. With a body count estimated to be in the triple digits already, this person would have to be a rather powerful parahuman to accomplish all this in just a few weeks. Really, any rational person would have felt nervous, scared even, of what this news could mean for them or their family. Rather than feeling terrified or nervous, though, Greg couldn''t help but feel a deep sense of interest. After all, how close could the authorities really be to locating the culprit? Hell, would they ever be able to find this guy? The blond seriously doubted it. Man, BBPD couldn''t find a twelve-foot dildo if it was shoved up their collective assholes. Rectal proclivities of the police force aside, Greg really only saw this as an opportunity to farm more experience while the boys in blue were running around like chickens with their heads missing. While aware of how callous that sounded in his own head, Greg didn''t really care all that much. In fact, strangely enough, he found himself caring less and less every day about what he did while chasing experience points, The odd serenity that Gamer''s Mind seemed to emanate on a constant basis seemed to come with a side effect that Greg had been doing his best to stave off, a constant feeling of numbness. Almost every smile, every laugh¡­ Hell, most of the time, nearly every single emotion felt hollow without Greg emphasizing the moment in his head with some sort of skill gain or, on occasion, a fight. It was maddening how pointless doing something like playing a video game felt when it didn''t actually do anything for him. Any sense of accomplishment or achievement he felt from beating it didn''t really mean anything when he could get that same rush times a thousand from just slamming a hammer down on his thumb over and over and over for the better part of a minute. Or, at least that used to be the case. Nowadays, a minute was just as pointless as playing the stupid game, whatever type of game it was. It tended to be RPG''s, for whatever reason. Those always felt the most boring. As he neared the midpoint of the alley, Greg paused both his thoughts and his steps, stopping right before the area where the flickering light bulb lit up the brightest. A hand went down to his pocket, clicking the pause button on the outdated music device, and a moment later, he pulled the old-style headphones from his hair carefully, allowing the device to rest around his neck. He blinked a moment later, eyes flashing from sky blue to a bright gold for an instant, another blink returning his iris to normal. The boy''s smile grew into a grin, this time his eyes lighting up in a wholly figurative manner. "I know you''re there." The alley remained still, silent apart from slight noises that could be dismissed as the scurrying of rats and other pests. In a way, that was true. "Seriously, there''s no point hiding. I can see you." Greg raised a hand, pointing directly at the overflowing dumpster over on the right. "Yes, you, the one behind the dumpster. And you, the one by the empty boxes. Also, you two¡­ seriously?" Greg''s eyes flicked over to a set of discarded mannequins stacked up against the filthy alley wall as he let out a snorting laugh, eyes filled with mirth. "Who do you think you''re fooling with that?" His gaze flicked back and forth between the three locations, iris flashing between gold and blue in between blinks, faster than any normal person could catch. "Seriously, did you think I was just going to let you ambush me? Are all Merchants this stupid or what?" The alley remained silent, leaving Greg looking like a crazy person as he continued to berate the seemingly empty walls with a wide smile on his face. Then, the vague rustling noises shifted into sounds of audible movement, movement of something much larger than rats coming from several different locations. Huh, six of them? The blond raised an eyebrow. Guess my count was off. Almost as one, several figures rose from the darkness of the alley, shambling forward like zombies. Considering what they actually were, the phrase zombies wouldn''t be too far off. With all the drugs in their system, they were only a little better than the living dead. The six men, all of them in torn, ratty, and just generally filth-covered clothing, stepped into the shuddering spotlight, most of them visibly armed. Greg''s gaze snapped down to the one on the far right, his eyes tracking the rusted weapon in his grip with interest. Wow, a machete. I''m feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. He raised his head, giving the men in front of him an uninterested expression that seemed to display as much bored contempt as Greg could muster. "Let me guess, you were gonna rob me, beat me up and possibly stab me a few times, weren''t you?" He let out a snort, rolling his eyes with expertise. "Merchants gotta merch, I guess. Still, though," the blond paused, raising a gloved hand to cover his mouth as he tried to hide a growing smile, "I wonder what it feels like to be considered scum in a city with plenty of Nazis."
Taunt Lvl Up! 21¡ú22
One of them rushed forward, screaming profanities and invectives at Greg just like he expected. The Merchant in question, an older man with a filthy, matted beard, screamed something Greg couldn''t make out and swung a dirt-covered pipe at his head. With supreme ease, Greg leaned back and to the side, watching as the look on the old man''s face switched from belligerent to confused. As he recovered from his confusion, the man swung his pipe again only to jerk to a stop as the bludgeoning tool refused to move. He glanced down at the weapon to see a pair of gloved fingers holding tight to the metal, his gaze tracking the fingers back over to Greg as he blinked in confusion for several reasons. The hand inside his hoodie tensed as Greg''s hand surged from his pocket. Before he could open his mouth again or attempt to strike once more, the Merchant''s hands rushed to his throat, red seeping through his fingers as he fell to his knees. Weapon discarded, it fell to the floor with a metallic clang, scattering across the floor. "Total slaughter, total slaughter. I won''t leave a single man alive." Greg stepped to the side, continuing to grin at the other Merchants as he brought the blade of his knife down again in a much slower movement, driving it directly into the top of the bearded Merchant''s skull. With a sick squelch, he pulled it free and flicked the serrated knife in a blurring movement, blood flying from the blade and scattering against the wall. His smile dissapeared, a bored look appearing on his face again. "La de da de dai, Genocide. La de da de duh, An ocean of blood." Greg took several steps forward, walking towards the now-frightened Merchants as their bearded friend finally fell to the floor in a pool of his own fluids. The blond''s disinterested expression shifted into another bright grin, eyes flashing a bright gold and staying that way. "Let''s begin the killing time." Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Junior Ninja
Level 20 Experience 510/22500
Health 1200/1200
Mana 230/230
Willpower 220/220
STR 40 SPD 60 (+2) (+4)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 22 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $58,568.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Ambiguous Disorder: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. It was easily written off as normal behavior when you were younger but now you''re fifteen. Yet, you still come off as someone over five years younger. Maybe Mom should have had you tested like Dad said? (-80% reduction to overall WIS, 90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.Baby Steps (2/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (1/10) [Ranked Ability] You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 13 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 6 meters. Cost: 30 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 6 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 105 Cost: 11 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Observe Lv 18 (XP: 25%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 2 (XP: 55%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (6 Hits) Damage: 60 Cost: 10 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 5 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (75%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 5% Will, 2% HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (375%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 12 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Weapon Charge Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (2.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 30 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 16 (XP: 15%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 12 (XP: 85%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Basic Anatomy Lvl Max (XP: 5%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 20 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (40%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 10 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 (XP: 25%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 15 (XP: 45%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Knife-Handling Lv 25 Blades are blades. Represents your martial skill with the art of a knife Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Language: Japanese Lv 12 (30%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 16 (XP: 10%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (160%) Parry Lv 19 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (38%) Reflexes Lv 20 (XP: 35%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (200%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 38 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (28.5%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 18 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (18%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 28 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (21%) Resistance: Poison Lv 9 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (9%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 19 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (14.25%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 9 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 35 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (70%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 22 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(44%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.16 Aggro 4.16 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 13, 2011 5:19 PM "...and then, she just screams at me¡­ screams at me," Greg paused, rolling his eyes in an entire circle. "I mean¡­ Me," he repeated, a hint of incredulity creeping into his voice. "Mmm-hmm." "Like, I''m the bad guy," The blond continued with a frown. "I didn''t even do anything and she just... " Blue eyes narrowed as the frown on his face deepened into a full-blown scowl. "You know she gave me the silent treatment this morning? Like, really?" Folding his arms over his chest, he continued ranting aloud. "Because, what? She can''t handle being wrong?" "I know what you mean." Not even bothering to pay attention to what was said, Greg barrelled forward, his attention wholly focused on the words leaving his mouth. "It''s just¡­" he rolled his head to the side, glancing at the large television in front of him as it displayed yet another boring rerun of Law and Order: PRT. The blond kicked his legs slightly, moving them in a frustrated wiggle more appropriate for a toddler than someone his age. "Everybody feels that way sometimes." Greg opened his mouth again to continue speaking only to pause as he felt something touch his head. Slender fingers carded through his hair, playing with his lengthening locks and almost kneading his scalp. Raising an eyebrow, Greg stared up at Emma as he waited for her to finish, too distracted by the sensation to keep speaking. Thirty seconds later, Greg pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, the motion just enough to discourage the roaming hand from stroking his hair again. "Emma¡­ are you even listening to me?" A slight laugh left the girl''s mouth, more a giggle than anything, as she moved her hand down to Greg''s face, patting the blond on the side of his face. "Of course I am. You''re mad at your mom for¡­" Emma tilted her head to the side, raising an eyebrow in thought. "Actually, you didn''t say why." Greg''s lips turned downwards slightly as he shot Emma a questioning look. "I¡­ I didn''t?" "No, silly," Emma replied as she rolled her eyes playfully, poking her boyfriend in the cheek. "You were being all mopey and I told you to tell me about it and then you started going on and on about how you and your mom had a fight and it''s not fair and you don''t deserve it..." The redhead waved her hand in the air as she let herself trail off. "I don''t really know why but I was hoping you''d get to that¡­ eventually." "Oh, that was kind of a ¡­ huh." Greg cut himself off, unsure of how to tell Emma what happened without bringing in the whole ''PRT stuff''. "Ugggh", Emma put her hands on both sides of his face, staring down at the boy resting his head in her lap with a faux frown. "You''re doing it again." "Doing what?" Greg asked, his voice slightly muffled as Emma kneaded his face between her palms. "Whaddya mean?" The girl let out a light scoff as she pulled her hands away from Greg''s cheeks, shaking her head as she did so. "You start a sentence like halfway into it already and then you just go on and on like I''m supposed to know what you''re saying or you start a sentence and cut it off after like five words and then expect me to get it. It''s super annoying." Greg opened his mouth to retort but shut it quickly, realizing that Emma probably had a point there. Still, he couldn''t help himself from muttering under his breath, "Sparky always gets it." Unsurprisingly, the girl whose lap he currently rested his head in could hear his muttered comments rather well. Emma blinked. "Who?" "Sparky?" Greg repeated, confused by the question that came out of nowhere. "My friend?" Emma raised a finger to her chin, one eyebrow still raised. "Which one?" "Which one? That''s hilarious," Greg muttered, snorting to himself. After a moment, he decided to actually answer her question, doing his best to describe his best friend for Emma. "Okay, you have to know who he is. The guy has kinda tan skin, really sarcastic, likes wearing black... Any of this ring a bell?" Emma shook her head. "Wow, okay," Greg''s eyes tilted to the side, trying to think of something else to add. "Uh, I guess he sleeps a lot too." When that didn''t seem to answer Emma''s question, Greg continued. "He also talks pretty slow, wears ripped jeans all the time¡­" Again, nothing seemed to be getting through to the ginger girl. "Okay, the guy wears so much plaid. Like, actually too much plaid. Only farmers, lumberjacks and lesbians wear that much plaid." "Mmmm¡­" Greg let himself get his hopes up for a few moments as Emma actually seemed to be taking some time to think about it. Sadly, his positive mood got slapped down as Emma responded with a blas¨¦ "Can''t say." How? Greg bit down on the urge to shout the question, at the same time as he fought the urge to groan. , "He sat across from you a couple weeks ago, Emma," Greg added, his tone unbelieving. "How do you not remember him? He literally made that chubby girl run off crying." The redhead frowned, leaning back on the couch. "Oh, is he the one that looks like he has eyeliner on even though he doesn''t actually wear any?" Wait, what? Greg blinked for a few seconds, confused by the description. "No! No! Why would¡­" The sides of Greg''s mouth turned downwards into a frown as he took in a slight breath. "I mean, Sparky doesn''t¡­" The blond paused, his mouth forming into an ''O'' as he thought about his friend''s facial appearance. "Frick¡­" "So¡­" Emma cocked her head, her hands still playing with the strands of blond hair in her reach. "I was right?" "Honestly¡­" Greg let out a sigh, even as he smiled despite himself. "You know what? I think that¡­ Yeah, I''m pretty sure it''s him." "Oh..." her face brightened, a slight smile spreading across her face, "then I do remember him." That''s what it took? Greg thought disbelievingly as he took in Emma''s expression, his own smile growing at the sight of her smile. "Yeah," he replied, the word leaving him with a chuckle. "He''s like my best friend." "Whatever," Emma replied, shaking her head."I don''t really care about him. I''m just trying to say that I can''t read your mind, Greg. I need context when we talk. I''m not Sparky, okay?" That''s pretty obvious, Greg mused as he stared up at two reminders of that fact. His cheeks flushing red, Greg tore his eyes away, turning his head to glance at the television screen. "I mean, y-yeah¡­ I know that." "Greg." "Mmhmm," the boy replied, still trying to think of what to say. "I need context, Greg." "Well, I dunno," Greg gave a slight shrug in response to Emma''s words, the gesture the first thing that came to mind. "Do we really need to bring up the past? Personally, I''m more of an in the now kind of guy." "Oh my god, you giant dork. You know what I mean," Emma replied, her voice a breathy sigh. Her hand continued roaming through his hair again, Greg''s head nestled comfortably in her lap. "How am I supposed to know what to say if you don''t tell me why you and your mom had a fight in the first place?" You know what? Fine. Greg sighed, deciding to simply bite the bullet. "It started on Tuesday when I got back from school¡­" he began slowly. Just like that, Greg spent the next few minutes just telling Emma the whole story, rambling for a bit too long about Secret Agent whats-his-face, Doctor Wells, him definitely NOT being a parahuman, and in general, how boring the PRT was. "So¡­ yeah, that''s basically it," Greg finished, bumping his shoulder against her knee as he gave Emma a lopsided shrug. "Me and my mom had a fight because she decided to report me to the PRT because somehow," he managed to draw out the word with a roll of his eyes, "she thought that was a good idea." "...Greg." Not even paying attention to Emma''s words, the blond''s mouth turned downward into a bitter frown as he finally sat up, removing his head from Emma''s lap to stare her in the face. "I mean, really?" He continued, his tone growing increasingly incredulous the longer he spoke. "What kind of mom even does something like that? And then treating me like it''s my fault?" The blond let out a huff of air as he thrust his hands into the air. "Like, really? Me?" He turned back to Emma, the redhead resting her chin on an upraised palm as she listened to Greg''s rant with nothing more than an amused smile. "I''m the bad guy?" As he finished speaking, Greg let out a loud groan, frustration clear in his voice as he leaned back on the black sectional couch, his head stopping just short of impacting the wall. He didn''t have any real fear of being overheard. With Emma''s parents off doing whatever and her sister out with her friends, the house was empty apart from the two of them, leaving them alone to relax in the living room. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Shaking his head, Greg sighed again. "It''s just not fair, you know." "That''s just how it is. Nothing''s ever fair, Greg." Emma moved closer to him, one arm curling around his shoulders as she pulled herself toward him. "All you have to do is talk to her again and she''ll get over it." "But I tried, Emma," Greg replied, a slight whine creeping into his tone. "I really did. Like, after school, I tried to talk to her and she didn''t even look at me." Greg dropped his hands into his lap, leaning over to rest his head on Emma''s shoulder. "She didn''t even ask where I was going when I left the house." Greg let out another sigh as Emma''s hand drifted through the length of his hair again, her fingers trailing across his forehead slowly. "I don''t know why she''s so angry, Greg. I don''t think it''s even your fault. Even then, I could never stay mad at you." For a moment, the redhead paused, her index finger drawing a line down his cheeks. "Especially with those big blue eyes looking at me like that." Those same blue eyes grew even bigger, widening as Emma''s finger trailed all the way down to his chin before she brought it to her lips and winked. Oh my God. Greg let out a cough, leaning away from Emma as his face heated up, reddening like a tomato. What do I say to that? How do I even¡­ God. "W-w-well, uh, I¡­ uh¡­" The blond coughed again, clearing his throat loudly as he turned his head away from Emma;s smiling face. Shaking his head, he turned back to Emma and cast a wary glance back at the girl, his cheeks still flushed. "B-but, b-but¡­ uh, seriously, can you believe that, though?" Greg repeated again, raising his voice again in a sudden move to return the subject to a safer topic. "It''s like she''s being ridiculous and won''t even admit that she was wrong even a little." "Greg¡­ I don''t know what you want me to say," Emma said in an almost-whisper, as she leaned into Greg again, her body pushing him further into the edge of the couch. Her hand met Greg''s in his lap, the teen stiffening as her fingers nearly strayed too close to a certain body part. "People get worked up sometimes. Just wait it out." Pushing away the urge to shiver as he lifted both his and Emma''s hands out of his lap, the blond shook his head again. "No, I mean¡­" Greg paused to lick his suddenly dry lips. "I mean, uh¡­ it''s just¡­ Like, I don''t even get how it happened. I mean, how crazy does someone have to be to think that me, of all people, could be a cape?" The girl pulled away from Greg as the words seemed to settle in the air. Greg blinked in surprise, looking on as a frown marred Emma''s demure smile for a single moment. What the¡­ Confused at the sudden shift, he opened his mouth to say something, only to realize that Emma''s expression had returned to normal, leaving no sign that anything had just happened. That was super weird. Did I just imagine that or... "I mean, I could believe it." Emma''s words cut into his thoughts, derailing his train of thought as soon as it began to move down the tracks. "I''m sorry," Greg blinked again, facing the girl head-on as she spoke. "Believe¡­ what?" "You as a hero¡­ I could believe it, you know." Green eyes fluttered coquettishly at Greg as Emma leaned in close to lay her head on his shoulder. "Bright blue eyes, blonde hair," Greg grinned awkwardly at Emma''s compliments, letting out a slight chuckle as his face reddened. "Come on, Emma¡­" "That smile, these muscles..." At this, Emma gripped his right arm with both hands, her palms tight as they held onto his thin but well-defined bicep, "I could see you in the Wards or even New Wave." She grinned at him, letting out a slight squeak as she held his arm even tighter. "You''d look so cute in a costume too! Don''t you think so?" "Hahahaha¡­. Yeah, " Greg replied, his laugh slightly atonal as he tried to think of a response. "But that would only happen if I had powers, you know?" Greg gave her a grin, the expression tight as he did his best not to give himself away. "And I don''t. Have powers. Like, seriously." Emma just smiled back. "If you did, you know, get powers," she began softly, her eyes fluttering innocently at Greg, "you''d tell me, right?" Greg gulped, swallowing a mouthful of nothing. "Yeah, sure. T-totally." Change the topic! Change the topic! His awkward laughter dying down to an anxious chuckle, Greg took a moment to clear his throat before changing the topic to something else on his mind. "So¡­" Emma lifted her head from his shoulder, staring him in the face. "So?" "You wanna¡­" Greg shrugged, turning away from Emma as his face began to redden again "uh, do something?" "Do something?" Emma''s lips pursed, forming a slight ''O'' as she raised a finger to her chin. "Do what, Greg? What do you want to do?" "You know¡­" "No, not really," Emma replied breathily, a slightly mischievous bent to the growing smile on her face. "What should I know?" "Umm¡­" Her hand fell to his chest, her palm resting flush against his tight shirt. "Come on, Greg. Tell me. Tell me what you wanna do." "Okay," Greg replied, nodding. "You¡­ y-you¡­" the blond paused, gulping in a large breath of air as he prepared to blurt out what he had been thinking about asking for a while now. "You want to go on a date on Friday?" Emma froze, her hand on his chest stiffening into a fist as she pulled away from him. The redhead gave him a stare that Greg could only describe as frigid before another demure smile replaced it. "What?" "Do you want to go on a Friday date?" Greg repeated, nodding his head in time with his words. "Like out, again. We haven''t gone out since spring break ended¡­ so I figured, why not?" His girlfriend seemed to let out a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes slightly as she muttered indistinctly to herself. Why, Greg wasn''t really sure, but he assumed that she might probably have plans or something. I mean, she is pretty popular, Her schedule''s probably full of stuff to do. "Really, Greg?" Emma let out another sigh in time with her words. "That''s what you were so nervous about asking?" "Well, our last date was kind of a mess,," Greg said, shrugging as he tried to push down the slight awkwardness he was feeling. "I mean, I broke the whack-a-mole thingy - no idea how that happened, by the way - and you didn''t even get to eat anything." The blonde paused, giving Emma a trademark Veder grin. "I figured I could fix that date with a better one." "But¡­" Emma hesitated for a moment, her hand leaving his chest. "That''s really all you wanted to ask about, isn''t it?" "Well, yeah," Greg replied, beaming as he decided to lay out his plans. "I was hoping we could make a whole day out of it." Leaning back on the sectional, Greg thrust a hand up into the air with a smile on his face. "Like, we go out to dinner obviously, but before that we could go mini-golfing or horse-riding or go-karting or even¡­ laser ta-" The blond''s words slowed to a crawl as Emma cocked her head to the side and simply gave him a curious stare, almost as if she was actually confused with what he was saying. "Uhh¡­ does it not sound good, cause I can change the plans? Haven''t even made a reservation yet, so..." Greg trailed off as he waited for Emma to respond. "No, no, d-... Don''t change the plans. Just¡­" The redhead closed her eyes, letting out a low sigh before she opened them again. She gave Greg a smile that seemed slightly tight, for some reason, before quickly standing up. "You know what? Could you¡­ could you give me a second? I have to go..." The redhead''s frown disappeared into a flat line as her shoulders slumped slightly. "I have to go powder my nose." Greg blinked, eyes widening curiously as Emma began to walk away from him, headed towards the exit to the living room. "Wait, Emma!" Pausing in her footsteps, the redhead turned to the side to glance as she glanced Greg over her shoulder, still flashing him that same tight smile. "Yeah?" "Is that really a thing girls do?" At Emma''s raised eyebrow, Greg decided to clarify. "Powder their noses?" Without missing a beat, Emma continued walking around the corner as she replied over her shoulder with a blas¨¦, "Yeah, sure. All the time." As she vanished around the corner, Greg realized something. Wait, she never told me if she was free or not. He frowned slightly, aware of the fact that weekend reservations were almost nonexistent after a while. Might as well make sure. Raising his voice, Greg called out loudly, "So, Emma, so are we good on the plan or ¡­?" Aggro 4.17 Aggro 4.17 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 15, 2011 5:33 PM CONGRATULATIONS! Time Crisis 4: Rise of The Goblin King COMPLETED! TIME: 21''46"27 SCORE: 4129450 ACCURACY: 82% PLAYER 1: WIN! "Yeah, he does!" Greg crowed. Turning his back to the screen, he dropped the gun-shaped controller into it''s provided holster and glanced over at his friend. Unable to hide the victorious grin on his face, he didn''t bother trying. "So¡­" "Shut. Up." Even with the annoyingly loud sounds of the arcade, Sparky''s acerbic tone rang loud and clear. At least, enough for Greg to hear. "Whoever loses buys the winner a churro," Greg replied in a sing-song voice, tilting his head from side-to-side. "Them''s the rules, Axel." "What did I say about using my name?" Sparky raised the gun controller to Greg''s chest, a distinctly annoyed expression on his face. "Seriously." Greg''s gaze flicked down to the white controller aimed center mass, a playful grin still on his face. After a moment, the blond let out a snorting laugh and spread his arms out to his sides. "You know, I''m pretty sure even if that was a real gun, I could probably take the hit." Raising a finger to the barrel, Greg''s grin widened as he pushed the controller away from his chest. "Reinforcement or not." With a roll of his eyes, Sparky dropped his own controller down as well and turned back to Greg. "I don''t know why I''m surprised but..." Sparky paused, shaking his head. "You''re even more annoying now than you were¡­ oh, I dunno? About a month ago." "Aww, you''re just saying that cause I beat ya again." Greg leaned in, hands folded across his chest. "All moody ''cause you lost? I mean, that only makes¡­ what?" He tilted his head to the side, grin growing more smug by the second. "Fourteen wins to your zero." "Zero?" Sparky shot back, pushing Greg back with an outstretched palm. "You mean one, brah. Fourteen to one." The blond rolled his eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. ''Wow, ok. So, we''re doing this now?" Greg clicked his tongue as he tilted his head from side-to-side. "We both know I let you win the skee-ball game, dude. I made one shot right in the hundred hole and then let the rest go in the tens." Reaching over, the blond patted his friend on the shoulder. "That was a pity win, mi amigo." As he shook off Greg''s grip, Sparky let out a muttered, "Still counts, asshole," and folded his arms over his chest to match his friend. "Okay, I''ll give you that but¡­" Greg let out a musical hum as he leaned forwards again, grinning as he stood a few inches away from his friend''s face. "Doesn''t that still mean you gotta buy me fourteen churr-" "If you lovebirds are gonna make out, you mind moving so someone else can use the game?" A deadpan voice called out from behind them, cutting Greg off mid-sentence. Both Greg and Sparky turned their heads at the voice, Greg slower and far more casually than his unpowered friend. The blond raised his eyebrows slightly as he took in the appearance of the person that interrupted him. Fair-skinned, black haired, and with features delicate enough to be mistaken for feminine, Greg only had one thought running through his mind as he raised a hand to his chin. Wow, I never thought I could put a real-life face to the word bishounen, but here we are. Unable to hold himself back, the blond let out a loud snort of a laugh, drawing the attention of Sparky again. Not bothering to stop even as two pairs of eyes turned to glance at him, Greg waved off his friend''s attention as he leaned back against the game again. While Greg didn''t bother saying anything, far too content to laugh at his own jokes, Sparky didn''t seem to find the interruption funny at all. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at the pale skinned pretty boy and pulled a face. "What''d you say?" Pretty boy moved the lollipop around in his mouth, pushing it to the side as he began to speak. "I said, you lovebi-" "I heard what you said," Sparky snapped back, now wearing an open grimace. "And the answer is no, we''re not done. Why don''t you go check out another game and stop being a grabby bitch?" The pretty boy laughed at Sparky''s retort, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing it at Sparky. "No need to be a dick, man. You could just hurry up." "And you could just fuck right off right back to wherever you came from," the mixed teen shot back, taking a few steps forward. Pretty boy scoffed at Sparky''s retort as he used one hand to lazily comb his fingers through his hair. "...Whatever, man. I don''t need this energy right now." Rolling his eyes, he turned his back to both Greg and Sparky as he headed in the direction of some racing games. Staring at the guy''s back, Sparky spat out a muttered, "Faggot." "Whoa!" Greg exclaimed, his laughter having petered down a few seconds ago. Drawing Sparky''s attention with the sound, he placed a palm on his own chest, as if he could hear the Pledge of Allegiance playing. "This is a Christian arcade. That means no homophobia." Sparky shot Greg a look through narrowed eyes. "I feel like that''s the opposite of what a Christian arcade would be about but sure..." Greg shrugged as he gave his friend another grin. "So, can I get my churros now or what?" "Fuck your churros, brah," Sparky growled back. "I call fucking Hax. I bet you have a Gaming ability now, right?" Sparky began. "Is that how you beat me like this?" Greg hummed. "You mean, beat you so badly that I basically justified the existence of the mercy rule?" Curling his hands into claws, Sparky let out a frustrated groan without opening his mouth. "Dude¡­" Bursting out into another grin, Greg snickered for a few seconds until he got himself under control. "I can''t believe you''re asking me if I have a gaming skill. Wouldn''t that just apply to the game I''m always playing?" The blond paused, smile shrinking slightly before it widened again. "Hell, that would be the most meta power ever. That would be like double Hax. Hax squared!" "And that would be different from your regular powers how?" "Hmmm¡­ fair point but the answer''s still a big fat nope!" Greg remarked brightly as he leaned backwards onto the game case. "Really?" The teen tossed his head back, the action pushing some hair out of his eyes as he shot Greg a blank look. "I thought you made an ability for everything. Didn''t you get a Driving ability from go-karts or something?" "Well, yeah, but I didn''t get one for basketball, skee-ball, or the golf game back there," Greg paused to gesture over his shoulder with his thumb. "I did get one for Handguns about an hour back, though." Sparky''s eyes narrowed. "I knew it. I call Hax!" Greg let out an audible groan, slumping his shoulders. "Fine. It''s a little bit of Hax." He brought his thumb and forefinger together in front of his eye. "Just a sprinkle. It''s not like I can turn it off." "You could let me win fourteen times in a row. After that, we call it even." At Sparky''s retort, Greg raised a hand to his mouth, his cheeks bulging up as his head jerked forward. The mixed teenager raised an eyebrow, far too used to Greg''s dramatics. "What''s wrong now, Goldilocks?" The goldilocks in question shook his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stood up straight and turned his gaze back to Sparky. "I''m sorry. I thought I just heard someone say something so disgusting that it almost made me vomit." "Oh, fuck right off, Veder." Sparky frowned, crossing his arms again in a frustrated huff. "I do your ass favors all the time and you won''t give me this? The fuck, brah?" Greg opened his mouth, a smile on his face as he prepared to snark back only for the smile to die midway, the snark following it. Huh, he is right, though. Sparky has done a lot for me. The blond glanced up at his friend''s frowning face. Hell, he made me two different sets of costumes and he helped me train too. A bunch of times. "I''m sorry, Sparks," Greg said with a sigh. "That was kind of a dick move, huh?" "Not the dickest of moves, but at least halfway there on the scale, yeah." Sparky adjusted his hair, moving a few strands out of his eyes as he paused for a moment. "I mean, it''s like throw me a bone here." "Sorry, dude." "Don''t give me sorry. Sorry doesn''t do shit for anyone." Sparky rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh of his own."Just¡­ give me something, dude. I skipped band for weeks. I spent money on the shit for your costume. It''s like you don''t think I actually do shit for you." An idea popped into Greg''s head, his brain picking up on a path that Sparky''s words had led him down. "How about I pay you back all the money you spent on me, plus interest?" Greg offered, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Just for starters." Sparky let out a snort, rolling his eyes at Greg''s words. "Sure, just drop a couple hundred bucks and we''ll call it even." Greg smirked. "How about I do you one better? [Inventory]." As Greg''s right hand slowly began to leave the pocket of his jeans, his friend''s eyes began to wide as he caught sight of the thick bar in Greg''s hands as it''s distinct golden shine was only enhanced by the bright lights of the arcade. Rather than pull it out all the way, Greg left it poking out just enough for Sparky to see and winked at his friend. Amber eyes widened and Sparky let out an odd squeaking noise. "I didn''t get to show you before but it''s..." Greg paused, tilting his head as an odd expression crossed his face, "it''s part of what I got from beating Lung." "Is¡­ Is that¡­" "Gold. A whole bar, Sparky." "A whole¡­" "500 thousand bucks sitting in my pocket, dude. Jackpot, right?" Sparky''s eye twitched at the number he rattled off, his gaze repeatedly flicking between the bar sticking out from Greg''s pocket and his face. "See," Greg continued, oblivious to Sparky''s growing unease "I was figuring I''d cut off a small piece and give it to you. That should should be enough to keep you set for a wh-" Greg would have went on further if Sparky hadn''t rushed up to him with a murderous expression on his face. "Motherfucker." Less than an inch away from his face, Sparky poked the blond in the chest repeatedly, hissing at him under his breath. "Are you trying to fucking out yourself, you ignorant, whitebread piece of shit? I swear to god, I will shove my size 12 boot up your asshole if you don''t put that shiny piece of shit back right the fuck now!" Greg slid back, eyes wide as he did exactly what Sparky had ordered, the bar disappearing into a pocket that was far too small for it. "Whoa, Sparky¡­" He began, raising his hands up defensively. "What?" "Dude, you gotta relax," Greg cautioned, glancing around to the arcade full of other kids, the sound of screaming, bells, whistles and other random noises contributing to the din. "It wasn''t like anybody else was paying attention." Sparky muttered something unflattering under his breath but stepped back regardless, his shoulders slumping as most of his annoyance seemed to dissipate. "What were you even planning on doing with it anyway? 500 stacks¡­ that''s¡­" He shook his head, glancing down at Greg''s pocket again. "That''s a lot of money." "Understatement of the year." "Shut up," Sparky drawled, dragging a hand down his face. "What are you gonna even do with all that money, brah?" "Well," Greg pursed his lips, his eyes glancing towards the ceiling as he tried to recall his general plan for the cash. "After I sell the bar, I was thinking about getting a car, or a motorcycle or something. Maybe, buy a building by the docks to convert into a secret lair." Sparky blinked. "That''s¡­ that''s ridiculous." "Yeah, you''re right." Greg nodded, cupping his chin with one hand. "Secret lairs are for villains. Heroes have a headquarters." "No, you i-" Sparky cut himself off with a groan, smacking himself in the face with a palm. "I mean, that''s crazy. Did you even know how much something like that costs?" "About sixty-five to seventy-five thousand dollars, honestly," Greg replied, his tone glib. "Five to ten thousand for an abandoned property and fifty to sixty thousand for new plumbing, electric, paint, siding work, windows, doors, drywall, flooring, insulation, and new appliances." "H-how¡­" There was a pause, Sparky''s mouth falling open slightly as Greg simply smiled back at him. "...how do y-" "HGTV." Rather than respond, Sparky let out a groan, kneading his forehead with one hand. "I''m not gonna go into exactly what''s wrong with that plan. My head hurts already. I''m not doing this again." "Doing what?" Greg asked, legitimately curious. "Nothing," Sparky hissed back, glaring at Greg from behind his raised hand. The long-haired teen let out a long breath before continuing. "It''s nothing. Just¡­ just¡­. Anyway, you said fourteen churros, right?" Only slightly confused by the sudden change in topic, but deciding to take it in stride, Greg nodded. "Yep." "Great," Sparky replied sarcastically. Rolling his eyes, he stuck his hand out towards Greg. "I''m gonna need you to pay up, though. You already owe me for labor. Might as well cough up some money for your own food, brah." The blond tilted his head to the side, a smile on his face as he plunged one hand into the pocket of his jeans again. "No problem. [Inventory.]" Pulling out a wad of bills from his pocket, Greg slapped them into Sparky''s hands as his other hand patted him on the cheek. "That''s half a stack. Don''t spend it all in one place, sweetheart." "I will cut you." Greg tilted his head to the side and smiled. "We both know you''d be doing me a favor." His friend simply rolled his eyes and turned towards the concession line, shooting Greg the middle finger as he left. Chuckling, Greg leaned up against the screen again and reached into his pocket again, this time not needing to enter his inventory to retrieve what he needed. The object sat perfectly in his palm, ensconced in his hand so snugly that even without the royal blue grips on the side of the device, Greg wouldn''t ever have to worry about dropping it. Not that he would ever try to drop it, of course. Risk breaking his very first smartphone? No way, Jose. Speaking of guys named Jose, the phone store clerk had handled everything for Greg really nicely and rather quickly once Greg dropped a thousand dollars on the counter. You have to appreciate customer service like that. Seven hundred and eighty-five of that one thousand dollars had gone directly to his new phone, the shiny white model on display on the highest dais in the middle of the store. One hundred went towards a wireless set of earphones designed for him to take calls while ''driving.'' Seventy-five had gone towards an extended warranty, one that came with a free upgrade to the next phone to come out in the series. And the last fifty? The last fifty was a tip to Jose. It had been a thoughtless splurge, Greg had to admit. He had been taking his time on the walk home from Emma''s place and he happened to see the building, the large front windows advertising the newest products. Dropping a thousand bucks all at once for a new phone wouldn''t have been something he would have even considered a few weeks ago. Granted, he wouldn''t have had that much money a few weeks ago but still... Although, if Greg really had to think about it, this wasn''t an entirely thoughtless splurge. Entirely being the operative all, it wasn''t like he didn''t need a new phone. It had been three years since he had been using the same candy blue flip phone that his mom had bought him for his twelfth birthday, right before smartphones started getting big. Upgrading to a smartphone now only made sense. When Sparky had seen it, he had simply nodded his head and gone, "Nice." He didn''t even bother asking him if his mom had bought it for him, his friend still well aware of he and his mom''s tense relationship over the last week. Sparky''s lack of surprise could also be attributed to the fact that he already had a smartphone, his parents dropping one on him for his birthday in February. Granted, it wasn''t as fancy as the one Greg had but, then again, it wasn''t half-bad either. Turning his attention back to his new phone, Greg tapped a single icon on the concentric circle that served as the app menu on most smartphone models. As the app opened up, Greg stared at the front page of the single website that he spent more time on than any other. Parahumans Online Login: Password: Normally, he wouldn''t have waited an entire day to set up his PHO account on his phone but then again, he hadn''t felt as interested in it recently what with other things taking up his time. I''m not even logged in on PHO at home anymore, am I? Greg realized with a puzzled look. PHO only kept you logged in on your computer as long as you went on the site once every twenty-four hours. From what Greg could remember, he hadn''t bothered signing on in since¡­ A week ago, I guess? Ugh, can''t believe I''m back to being a lurker again. Resolving to get back in the groove of things once he got back home, Greg entered in his login information. As the app opened up in full, Greg raised his finger to tap on his favorited sub-forum only to pause mid-way, something else catching his attention. Huh, thirty-seven PM''s? That''s¡­ weird. He did remember having a bunch of unread messages the last time he logged into PHO but Greg didn''t really bother checking them out, considering how there were so many threads talking about him and Shadow Stalker to draw his attention. Might as well check them out. As the messages loaded, Greg''s eyes widened as he realized that he only had one thread in his PM inbox, meaning that all the private messages in his inbox had come from one user. GstringGirl? ? Private message from GstringGirl: GstringGirl: void. just got on world of heroes. its cool. i picked an alexandria class. whats your class again? GstringGirl: void? GstringGirl: i sent you a friend request on world of heroes. found your account. your hero looks cool too. how did you get a custom class? GstringGirl: i got to level 10 already. its real fun. GstringGirl: i dont think my friend request went through. i sent another one just in case. GstringGirl: void. GstringGirl: dont mean to bug you if youre busy GstringGirl: void. you there? i hit level 15. i can switch classes now. The first two dozen of the messages followed that same vein, with Gstring Girl basically sending him repeated PM''s, often several in the same day, trying to get a response. The further Greg went down past that, though, he began to feel slightly uneasy with how often GstringGirl kept messaging him and giving him updates on her game. Doesn''t she have other friends or something? As he kept reading, Greg had to struggle to push down the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Gamer''s Mind seemed to be annoyingly absent, leaving him actually missing that calm state of mind it always forced him into. He shook his head, trying to distract himself, but he couldn''t seem to get his mind off how GstringGirl had sounded. He had been doing a lot recently, his online friend had guessed that much right, but she couldn''t comprehend just how busy he actually was. In between training, school, Emma, and hero stuff, Greg really hadn''t had much time to spend on regular video games anymore. It was a sad fact, but there were more important things that he had to deal with. Hell, he still hadn''t made restaurant reservations for him and Emma yet. Apparently, she actually did have plans for both today and Saturday, some swimsuit modeling gig, which meant he had to find an open reservation on Sunday. Considering how booked weekends tended to be, that was going to be a nightmare and a half. With all that to deal with, Greg knew that he just didn''t have the time to spend like four hours a day on PHO, chatting with someone he''d never met in person while he played video games. It may have been harsh, but it was the truth. It''s not really my fault that GstringGirl feels bad, right? Greg thought to himself, desperately trying to convince himself of this. Sure, we played a lot together and¡­ I guess, we also talked a lot¡­ and I did mention meeting up a few times but¡­ He frowned, unsure of what direction his thoughts were moving in. Why do I feel guilty for being busy? I had things to do. It''s not my fault that she got left hanging anyway. Greg shook his head again as he tried to get his head on straight, focusing his attention back on his phone as he tried to quickly read the last few messages. ? Private message from GstringGirl: Stolen story; please report. GstringGirl: hey void. just wondering if youre doing okay? i sent you messages. GstringGirl: just a little worried. you haven''t been on PHO in a week. You didnt respond. GstringGirl: void. GstringGirl: void. GstringGirl: i know your probably busy but. im still here if you want to play again. GstringGirl: if this is about not giving you a picture of me, i told you i couldnt. my parents. GstringGirl: void GstringGirl: void GstringGirl: void GstringGirl: please. GstringGirl: void GstringGirl: im sorry for bugging you. Greg''s arm dropped as he slumped back against the arcade box, the blond staring up at the ceiling with a blank look on his face. "...Fuck."
You have gained 1 WIS.
Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 2510/32000
Health 1447/1447
Mana 480/480
Willpower 486/486
STR 61 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 82 INT 50
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 22 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 21
Perk Points: 3
Cash: $20068.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 9 (XP: 15%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (550%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 5 (XP: 35%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 6 (XP: 15%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Basic Anatomy Lvl 5 (XP: 85%) Anatomy is to physiology as geography is to history. Gain a basic understanding of the human body. Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (50%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 13 (XP: 15%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (6.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 5 (XP: 75%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 7 (5%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 10 (XP: 30%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (100%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases your innate reaction speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level.(20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Aggro 4.18 Aggro 4.18 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 16, 2011 5:38 PM Greg tapped the send button, his lips still curved downwards in a visible frown. The look on his face perfectly matched how he felt on the inside, a perfect mix of sadness and confusion. It''s not like it matters anymore, right. Can''t take it back now. He really didn''t understand how he could have forgotten about GstringGirl for so long. While he had never met her, let alone even seen her, Greg had known GstringGirl for over a year now. He had recommended shows for her to watch, games for her to play, and¡­ Hell, they had actually played games together. Granted, it had never been in person but Greg had barely even played games with Sparky, his best friend too much of a filthy casual to play on the level he could. Simply having someone to play with and teach about games had been a lot of fun and Greg couldn''t even remember exactly how many afternoons he had spent doing just that with his online friend. How did I forget about GstringGirl? Seriously, Greg thought with a shake of his head, when was the last time I even messaged her? The blond paused for a moment, gaze flicking back to his phone as his finger quickly scrolled back up to the top of the conversation. His eyes narrowed as he settled on the date of his last message to GstringGirl. March 19th, 2011. Shit. The blond winced, teeth clicking as he shut his open mouth and thrust his phone back in his pocket. Eyes closed as he let out a sigh, Greg raised a hand to the bridge of his nose and slowly shook his head. It has been about a month, huh? A month of basically ignoring a friend. Greg winced again at the unpleasant thought, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Fuck that, I didn''t just ignore her. I forgot her. That''s even worse. How do you just forget a friend, you jerk? Greg continued to chastise himself with a frown on his face, now beginning to fully comprehend what GstringGirl must have felt like. Unsure of what else to say, the blond simply leaned back against the game once more, letting out a muttered, exasperated, "...goddamnit." "Trouble in paradise?" Greg''s head snapped to the side, the blonde standing up straight as a familiar easy-going voice hit his ears again. He blinked at the sight of the boy from before, the one that Greg couldn''t help but classify as "Bishie Boy" in his head. "No¡­" As the corners of his mouth tugged upwards in an odd smirk, Bishie Boy shifted his upper body as he leaned forward slightly. "You sure about that? I saw the look your boyfriend gave you before he ran off." Greg blinked, mouth working up and down for a few moments as he processed the words the other boy had spoken. He shook his head and finally decided to respond. "...urk." The pretty boy simply raised an eyebrow. The blond shook his head, getting his thoughts in order as he tried to respond properly, "B-b-b¡­ boyfriend?" Greg spluttered, finally getting the word out. He raised his hands to his chest, eyes wide as he tried to reconcile the idea. "What? Who?" "The angry one that just walked off." The pretty boy turned his head slightly, glancing at the rather long concession line currently moving at a pace that a snail would be proud of. One hand met the collar of his white dress shirt, his lithe fingers playing with a button before he continued. "You know? Black hair, olive skin, too much eyeliner." He''s talking about Sparky? Blue eyes widened in confusion, Greg''s mouth shifting into a slightly perturbed. Why''s he talking about Sparky? We''re not like that. After a moment''s thought, Greg tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as he did so. Well, I''m not. "He doesn''t wear eyeliner," Greg replied to the other boy''s words, the words the first thing that popped into his head after a rather long moment of silence. Realizing what he said, his face reddened slightly and Greg turned his gaze away. "Mmmm, I wouldn''t have guessed that," the other boy hummed in response, "Still cute though." "I¡­ I guess," Greg snorted, raising a hand to scratch his face as he did his best to avoid eye contact with the fair-skinned boy. "I wouldn''t know. I like gi-uh," Greg paused, knowing all too well that just because someone liked one, it didn''t necessarily mean they didn''t like the other. Shaking his head, the blond continued speaking. "¡­ I mean, I don''t like¡­ guys, you know." He continued scratching his face nervously, the conversation heading down a path he was not at all prepared for. "Dude, it''s okay. No problem with me." The smirk grew further, Bishie Boy''s thin lips gaining an odd quirk to them that came off as more than a little smug. He let out a little laugh, one hand lingering on his collar again. "Little advice, though. If you''re trying to keep the boyfriend shit on the down low, I wouldn''t recommend touching his face." Leaning forward, the black-haired teen cupped one hand around his mouth and said in a loud stage whisper, "It gives off the wrong vibe." "There''s no vibe to give off," Greg replied, leaning away from the pretty boy. "I''m not¡­" Pausing, Greg tried to work his mouth into place to say the what he needed. "I''m not¡­ like that." "Could have fooled me." There was that smirk again, the sight of it causing Greg to shake his head. "I mean, you look good together, though. Like a yin-yang situation. Moody and angry with sunny and vapid." Vapid? Unwilling to address the rest of the other boy''s statement, Greg shook his head and decided to tackle the least embarrassing part of what was said. "Two things. What makes you think I''m vapid?And two, he''s not usually¡­ angry." "Well, first, you look like a human golden retriever, same dumb smile and everything¡­" Greg quickly shut his mouth, shifting his face into what he hoped was a stern frown. He couldn''t help but notice the smug look on the face of the teen across from him increase as his own smile faded. Jerk. "And second, about your friend, he''s got a shit-ton of issues." There was another hum from the teen, one hand cupping his chin as he continued. "Trust me, blondie. I know his type." "Do you?" It was an honest question, really. Greg couldn''t really imagine meeting anyone else like Sparky. Acerbic and uncaring his friend might be occasionally, he always meant well and was a pretty nice guy, in his opinion. Granted, that was Greg''s opinion. From what the blond knew, plenty of others would disagree with the more favorable parts of his description. "Acts bored all the time, likes to tell people to fuck off," The pretty boy let out a soft laugh, before continuing, "dresses like he doesn''t care what people think even though it''s super important to him¡­" "Yeah, I know his type." He paused, shooting Greg a wider smile. "And look at you, lemon head, sticking up for your boyfriend. How cute." Greg brought a hand to his face in a rather loud face-palm, dragging his fingers down his face as he shot the guy a glare. "Seriously, man, it''s not like that. I have a girlfriend," the blond argued back. Why am I even talking to this guy? Just ignore him, already. Despite what Greg thought, he couldn''t bring himself to leave, the teen unable to help but fixate on the idea that someone had the wrong perception of him. "Juggling a boy and a girl? Look at you, lover boy." The pretty boy seemed to purr the last two words, sending an uncomfortable tingle down Greg''s back as he leaned forward. The blond couldn''t help but notice how his smile somehow seemed to grow the more Greg squirmed. "I wouldn''t have thought you were the type." "I''m not juggling anything," Greg snapped back, filled with the sudden and unexplainable urge to defend his honor. "We''re not dating." "Not dating. Oh..." The boy smiled, closing his eyes as his face grew vaguely cat-like with it''s expression. "I get you now." Greg shook his head, letting out a slight groan at the look on the boy''s face. "I really don''t think you do." "Just experimenting, right?" The pretty boy opened his eyes again, his bored gaze seeming to light up as Greg let out yet another groan, the blond covering his face with his hands as his cheeks began to redden. "Cute." "Could you please stop?" Greg pleaded. "Oh, don''t be like that. Nothing wrong with a little interest¡­" the boy bit his lip and gave Greg a wink, "outside the box." Greg let out yet another groan, his face halfway done with its slow but steady metamorphosis into a tomato. "Dude." "Nothing wrong for pitching for both teams. Now, the question is¡­" "No." Greg stepped forward, doing his best to shake his head sternly even as his face remained flushed from embarrassment. "No, no, no, no. No more questions from you." "Okay, I was just gonna ask if you were done with the machine but I guess, if you''re just gonna be rude..." Pretty boy shot him a look, forcing Greg to sigh and step out of his way. "Here you go. Time Crisis 4," The blond said with a sigh. "All yours." The other boy stepped forward, glancing at the screen and both of the controllers in front of him for a few moments. His lips pursing, he shot a look back over at Greg, one eyebrow raised. "You know, it''s kinda boring playing this alone." Greg raised an eyebrow. "So?" "So, help me out with the co-op while you''re waiting for your boyfriend to get back. Unless... " He put a hand on one of the light guns, raising the white controller up to his chest with the barrel pointed up. "You don''t think you can keep up?" Just say no. This guy is a total weirdo. Stranger Danger! Greg opened his mouth, pausing for a moment as the brunette held out the black controller to him. Just say no already! Sighing, Greg shrugged his shoulders and gave the other boy a hesitant smile as he took the controller from him. "Sure." "Nice." "Fair warning, though," Greg began as the black-haired teen to his right began putting in tokens for the game, his face gaining a smirk of its own. "I''m super good at this game." As the screen began to change, Greg held the gun out in front of him and put both hands on the controller. Time Crisis 4: Rise of The Goblin King The other boy rolled his eyes, raising his own controller as the title appeared on the screen. Only one hand on the gun, he brought the other to his face, brushing the hair out of his eyes in a way that Greg couldn''t help but feel was practiced. "Whatever, Goldilocks." Greg frowned slightly, the other boy''s casual use of that nickname somehow getting to him. Only Sparky ever calls me that. He paused, his frown shifting to a slightly puzzled look. And, I guess also Sophia, that one time. But mostly Sparky. Glancing back at the boy to his right, Greg gave him a nod that he was pretty sure came off as casual and uninterested. "The name''s Greg." "Alec. No last name," was the even more casual reply, the other teen not even bothering to look back at him as he spoke. The blond blinked, his eyes narrowing for a moment before his mouth tugged upwards in a smirk, turning to face the screen as well. "Nah, I''m not gonna call you that." "Oh?" He still didn''t bother looking at Greg, both eyes still focused on the loading game in front of them. "Any particular reason why?" "Cause it sounds pretentious and snooty," Greg replied, still smirking. The expression was more mocking than anything else, but then again, that was the purpose of it. "I''mma call you Snow White instead. ''Cause you''d look right at home dressed like a princess." He emphasized both syllables of the word princess by cocking his pistol twice, the action allowing him to select his character''s on-screen weapon, a bulky, box-like futuristic-looking handgun that looked like each shot should tear off a person''s hand. Being one of the most powerful pistols in the game, the simulated recoil in the controller was also increased appropriately. For a regular person, that would have been a problem. For Greg, though¡­ Man, this is going to be so easy, the blond thought, his smirk widening as the other guy cycled through his own weapon choices before settling on one of the lower-powered guns, a semi-automatic. Hell, I went easy on Sparky, and I actually like him. "Princess, huh?" Greg blinked again, Snow White''s voice cutting into his thoughts, and he glanced at the other boy out of the corner of his eye. "If I''m the princess in this equation," A smirk was on the black-haired teen''s face as he glanced over at Greg. "Does that make you my Prince Charming then?" Fighting the urge to let out the most awkward of laughs, Greg shook his head and refocused his gaze back on the screen. "You wish." Soft laughter was the only reply Greg received to his muttered comment but the blond didn''t let himself focus on that, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the cutscene playing out on the screen. Having played this more than a few times before, Greg knew that it was only a few more seconds before the game would begin abruptly, starting with an airdrop into the game developer''s vision of Ellisburg. GAME START LEVEL 1! Greg raised his gun and began shooting, picking off several of the airborne enemies that flew up to meet him as his character parachuted into the walled city. The first monster had it''s head blown off, the skull exploding into beautifully rendered gore as the monstrous bullet in Greg''s virtual gun perforated it''s brainpan. Two shots to the wings of the next one sent it hurtling down, the creature already considered dead in Greg''s eyes. The two bullets he had let off winged a third creature behind the now-wingless one, the demonic baddie now a sitting duck for Greg to let out one more shot. The blond gamer continued to pick off winged baddies this way, casually pausing for a few moments to appreciate how creative the developers had gotten with the idea of Nilbog''s creatures. For a few moments, he even found himself wondering if Nilbog would like the idea that he was popular enough to deserve more than one video game made after him. Probably. Someone known as the ''Goblin King'' probably has to be pretty full of himself. Shot after shot, Greg kept taking down the enemies before they could even get close enough to be a problem. Utterly decimating the first two waves of bad guys as his character glided through the air on a parachute, Greg began to pick away at the last wave of demonic monsters, the only frustration being the fact that his gun wasn''t quick enough to keep up with him half the time. Man, reloading takes way too long! Greg couldn''t help but grouse, losing valuable time as the reloading animation put bullets in his rectangular revolver one by one. As it ended, Greg couldn''t help himself from letting out a sigh. Finally! Less than thirty seconds later, Greg''s character touched down on the ground and shed his parachute in a short cutscene, allowing Greg to get back to the shooting in less than ten seconds.
Gunplay: Handguns Lvl Up! 1¡ú2
Nice! Allowing himself a quick fist-pump at the skill increase, Greg glanced to his right and raised an eyebrow at Alec''s progress. "Wow, still in the air, huh?" The other teen didn''t say anything back, still focused on shooting the baddies surrounding him. Unlike Greg, who was quick enough to pick off all the monsters before they could manage to get within range to crowd him or chip away at even a single bit of his health with their projectile spikes or fire breath, Alec wasn''t quite that fast. And, boy was he suffering for it. While health did regenerate in this game, Greg couldn''t help but notice that he was pretty deep in the red already and still falling. Might as well help out. Immediately after taking out some random grouping of identical monsters while taking care to avoid shooting the random civilians that occasionally ran across the screen only to be torn apart by monsters, Greg pointed his gun at Alec''s screen and with four pulls of his trigger, took out six of the monsters crowding his co-op partner. "On your left, princess!" "Hey, I had that!" Alec replied blithely, not much heat at all in the response. Rolling his eyes, Greg turned his attention back to his screen as some horrible abomination of a pig and a porcupine as well as another creature with a body resembling that of a frog rushed at him on-screen, the whole thing compounded by the fact that the both of them were over six feet tall on all fours. Ugh, I hate this part! Raising his gun, Greg bit his lip as he kept shooting at the frog-like creature, unable to make headshots like he had before with the screen swaying the way it did as his character ran backwards to keep away from the giant chimeras. Six shots later, neither of the monsters were dead and Greg was faced with the desperate problem of having to reload. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.Goddamnit! He thought, teeth gritted as he waited for the animation to hurry the fuck up already! Five seconds is way too long for a reload. What made the situation even worse was that the monsters on screen tended to start moving faster when shots weren''t being fired, which meant that now they were gaining ground even faster than before. Son of a- How much health do these guys have? Frickin'' mid-bosses! As the reload finished, Greg quickly let off four more shots into the toad monster''s head, the final shot causing an explosion of digital gore. Finally! A smile on his face, he started shooting the other monster, placing several perfect shots into the porcupine-pig''s head. Unlike the toad, this one didn''t seem to be super-durable and it only took four shots to take the beast down, Greg''s heavy pistol doing its job like he expected.
Gunplay: Handguns Lvl Up! 2¡ú3
"You know," Alec spoke up, his voice a slight distraction from the action on the screen, "I was thinking about that friend of yours again." "Huh?" Greg couldn''t help but frown, glancing over at the other teen. "Why?" Pausing as he shot at several monsters on the screen, his much faster gun taking at least three shots to decimate even the average monster mooks, Alec brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Oh, I don''t know. Just thinking about his eyes." What? Greg whipped his head around to shoot a look at the feminine boy, unsure what he was getting at again. "What?" He couldn''t help but say, echoing his thoughts. "His eyes are pretty enough, right? Amber''s a beautiful color." Alec let out a slight laugh, shifting his gun from side to side as he picked off several monsters on the screen, keeping them at bay despite his rather low health. "Don''t you think so, lover boy?" "Not. Gonna. Answer. That." Without even focusing his full attention on the screen, Greg did the same, the monsters falling as he managed to pull off repeated headshots against the slower, predictable mooks. Unsurprisingly, it was getting easier with all the repeated skill increases to Handguns, but then again, it wasn''t all that hard to do in the first place. As Greg moved to pull another on-screen monster''s head vanishing with a spray of gore, he couldn''t help but notice how his co-op partner kept shooting him odd looks, Alec paying more attention to Greg''s side of the screen than his own. Choosing to ignore that, Greg raised the gun again and moved to take yet another shot. What the hell? Greg blinked, staring at the gun in surprise. The blond switched hands, tossing the controller to his left as he shook his other hand. Why did my hand get all weird? Greg could have sworn that his fingers had felt rather numb for a moment there, most of his hand feeling unresponsive as he tried to pull the trigger. Now, though¡­ his hand seemed fine. The blond raised the gun with his left hand, only to pause, an annoyed expression crossing his face. And now it''s back. Greg let out an unintended grunt with the thought, his hand trembling like a leaf as he squeezed the trigger. The action was enough to make him miss another on-screen monster and the blonde glanced down at his hand again as he wondered what was going- "RAAAAAAGGGGGHHHR!" Greg''s head quickly snapped back up, the blond losing his train of thought as a random monster rushed him. Quickly raising his controller, he made to shoot it only for his hand to twitch again, his shot going wild. Fuck! Greg repressed the urge to curse at the missed shot, the blond letting out an annoyed grunt instead. The monster closed in, the chimeric creature quick enough to shave of a line of his character''s health with a swipe of its claws before Greg shot it at close range, tearing it in two. What''s going on with my h-
New Ability Gained! Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 1 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level.
Greg blinked, eyes widening at the sudden pop-up. What the actual hell? Seriously, this didn''t make any sense at all. The blond whipped his head around, confused as to what could be happening right now. Was a villain attacking or something? Why here? Why now? Seriously, just why? The Sun was still out, for God sakes. What kind of weirdo villain chooses an arcade to- "Problem, sunshine?" Greg froze, his fingers tightening on his controller as he heard Alec''s smug voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced over at the other boy, the subtle smugness of the smile on the black-haired boy''s face filling him with a sense of dread. Keeping his voice as low as he could manage, Greg let out a whispered, "Observe."
"Alec No-Last-Name" Lvl 19 ??? HP: 215/215 A random guy that seems to like messing with you. Has an odd habit of adding sexual jokes into conversation. Likes messing with people in general, not just with his power. Looks vaguely feminine. Also, he plucks his eyebrows, because of course he does.
Observe Lvl Up! 9¡ú10
Blue eyes widened, quickly narrowing a moment later as Greg read through the entire thing. ...Motherfucker. Rather than say anything out loud, the blond bit his lip, shifting his attention back to the screen in a slow, measured attempt to keep his cool. Okay, Greg, keep it calm. Keep it cool. Let''s just kick this jerk''s ass and walk away like a boss.
Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl Up! 1¡ú2
"No problem here," Greg replied, forcing a smile on his face. "Anything wrong with you?" "Nah. Just noticing that you''re pretty good at this." "Yeah," Greg''s smile faded as he focused his attention back on his side of the screen. "I guess." His face set in a determined frown, Greg switched his controller back to his right hand and began to shoot again. Just like he expected, it started to tremble as he kept shooting, his hand sometimes twitching wildly just before he was about to pull the trigger. Doing his best to ignore it, Greg held on to the pistol with both hands to keep his arm as steady as he could and began to thin down the horde of chimeric monsters approaching him.
Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl Up! 2¡ú3
Son of a- Casting quick glances at the boy to his right as his aim kept shifting, lowering his overall accuracy score, Greg couldn''t help but appreciate the fact that he was still ahead of Alec in both points earned and progress throughout the level. Try and cheat and still end up losing? Lame. He brought his attention back to his screen as the ground around his character''s feet began to rumble ominously. Now, Greg thought, the blond reloading his gun despite still having four shots left, time for the first boss. The first level of Time Crisis 4 was the shortest in general, lacking a lot of the more frustratingly hard aspects of the later levels like the rooftop run-and-guns or riding on top of monsters while fighting. However, what this level lacked in gimmicks, it made up for it in sheer, unmitigated awesome by having the most insane boss in the entire game. Just as Greg had expected, broken asphalt exploded like a geyser as a huge, brown-furred paw burst from the ground, claws digging into the surrounding asphalt and finding purchase. A moment later, that paw was followed by the rest of the creature as it leapt up out of the hole it had created in the street with an ease that did not match it''s impressive bulk. The bloody mess of a creature roared and spread out one disproportionately large and furry arm to the side while a much smaller, but still rather well-muscled, human arm curled up into a fist. On top of this mess of fur, blood, and bulging veins, sat a grotesquely pink head, half of it lacking skin and the other half just too covered in blood to make out. Overall, the monster looked¡­ well, it looked like a mix between a brown bear, a hairy pig, and an overweight Caucasian man. Greg raised his gun again, noting with a raised eyebrow that his hand didn''t seem to be trembling anymore, and smirked. Let''s do this. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C CONGRATULATIONS! Time Crisis 4: Rise of The Goblin King LEVEL 1 COMPLETE! TIME: 13''21"49 SCORE: 129450 ACCURACY: 78% PLAYER 1: WIN!
Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl Up! 4¡ú5 Gunplay: Handguns Lvl Up! 5¡ú6
Greg put his controller down, carefully putting the gun in its holster as he turned around to face his cheating co-op partner. The boy in question was in the middle of putting down his own controller as well, or would have been if he had been careful enough to replace the gun-shaped object. Rather than place his controller back on it''s stand, Alec lazily tossed it onto the machine and let the device fall to the floor, attached to the game itself by a wire. Turning to face Greg, the brunette smiled. "Nice job, blondie. You are pretty good at this." Blue eyes narrowed as Greg let out an atonal hum. That settles it. I hate this guy. Folding his arms over his chest, the blond smiled back at Alec. "Yeah, I know." Greg tilted his head, his smile slowly fading as he paused for a moment. "I''d probably be even better if someone had stopped trying to cheat." "Yeah." Alec nodded slowly, a closed-mouth smile still present on his face. "Seems like that could fuck up a day, right?" The brunette clicked his tongue as he made to turn around, obviously trying to walk away, "Be seeing you." I think the fuck not. "First of all," Greg began under his breath, taking several quick steps forward to block the other boy''s path, "there''s cheating and then there''s cheating with powers." The other boy blinked in Greg''s face, appearing unfazed by the accusation. "Your point?" Greg blinked as he continued to whisper, unsure if Alec even heard him. "What do you mean, your point? You used your power to try and make me lose." Greg''s eyes narrowed even further, the blond growing annoyed as the parahuman across from him simply responded with a disaffected shrug. "And? I didn''t give you shit for using your powers." What? The blond flinched hard, jerking away from the bored-looking boy. Forcing his face into a calm expression, Greg shook his head and tried to change the subject. "I¡­ I don''t know what you''re talking about. You''re the cape here, not me." "Come on, man," Alec responded blithely, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let''s be honest. You''re a shit liar." He raised an eyebrow, thin lips rising into a smirk. "I mean almost every time you pulled the trigger, it was a headshot. Come on, no one''s that good." Was I that obvious? Greg flinched again at the thought, realizing that he may have been a bit too good. "I d-don''t¡­ Fuck." "Don''t be mad," Alec said with another shrug. The brunette turned around again and began walking away from Greg. Glancing over his shoulder, the pretty boy waved back at Greg. "You cheat, I cheat; It''s all fair in the end, right?" The blond just watched as the other teen calmly walked away, hands in his pockets, leaving Greg alone with his thoughts and nothing else. Nothing else but all this burning rage. Greg tilted his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. Well, it''s less burning rage and more unending annoyance but still¡­. The fact that some cape could tell he had powers just like that was just ridiculous. Greg was sure he didn''t even do anything crazy. Wait¡­ Greg paused, thinking back to how he had played. I guess I did take out a lot of bad guys without even looking at the screen. Was I really aim-botting this whole time? He blinked in surprise, gritting his teeth a moment later. "...Double fuck." Am I that bad at keeping my powers a secret? It''s been like a month and some rando already figured it out. Greg shook his head quickly, a thought about that rando suddenly coming to the forefront of his mind. Forget about that. Who even was that guy? No way he was a Ward, right? There''s no Masters on the Wards and no way would a Ward use their powers on someone else like that. The blond took in a quick breath as another thought hit him. He''s a villain! Oh my God, that guy''s Regent! How did I not think about that before? Greg''s blue eyes widened in surprise a moment later, the blond coming to another realization. Oh my God, Regent is a villain! Does that mean¡­ "Yo, Veder!" Greg jumped slightly, letting out a slight squeal as Sparky''s voice sounded out from right behind him, reaching his ears above the din of the loud arcade sound. The blond spun around, slapping a smile on his face as he spotted his best friend making his way over to him with an armful of snacks and drink, Mexican pastries included. My churros! "Dude, stop staring like a goldfish and help me with this shit!" "So¡­" Greg paused to take a bite of his churro, following up that same bite with a bit of funnel cake and a swig of lemonade. Sparky glanced up from his bacon nachos, raising an eyebrow as he wiped away cheesy crumb remnants from his mouth. "So what?" The two sat across from each other, the two friends occupying one of the more comfortable tables in the arcade as they ate their greasy overpriced junk food. Sparky may have gone a little overboard with the money Greg gave him but to be honest, impulse control was never his strong suit in the first place. He wasn''t as bad as the blond sitting in front of him, but then again, that was just damning with faint praise. "Well," Greg clicked his tongue, tilting his head from side to side for a moment, "I might have some big news to share." Now, Greg had Sparky''s attention in full, the olive-skinned teen pushing away both his nachos and his drink. "I was gone like fifteen minutes. How big could the news be?" "One sec." Greg paused to take one rather long sip of his lemonade, pulling deeply from the oversized monster of a cup. In all honestly, the thing was nearly wider than his head. Two seconds later, Greg was still drinking, leaving Sparky to roll his eyes at another of his friend''s oddities. "G." "..." Five seconds after that, Sparky was getting obviously ticked off and Greg was peacefully drinking from a seemingly endless cup. "Greg." The boy in question held up a single finger as he continued that same long sip, finally coming to a close a few seconds after that. As he smacked his lips with a satisfied sigh, Greg let out a rather loud burp, the sound managing to draw the attention of several laughing middle-schoolers. "Man, breath holding sure comes in handy, huh?" Greg said, a smile on his face. "I should really work on that skill some more." "Greg!" Sparky hissed, leaning forward. The blond jumped slightly, blinking owlishly for a moment before he remembered the flow of conversation. "Oh, yeah. The news." Sparky just rolled his eyes and made a gesture with his hand that clearly said "get on with it." "Okay," Greg took a breath, "I made an arch-nemesis." There was silence between the two of them for a long moment, leaving the air filled with the sound of laughing children and the loud beeps and dings of arcade games. "What?" Sparky blinked rapidly, obviously stunned. "What?" "I. Made. An. Arch-nemesis," Greg repeated slowly, each word seeming to make Sparky wince. "I¡­ I¡­ don''t¡­" He blinked again, looking down at his nachos before looking back up in confusion. "...while I was gone?" "Yep." Sparky continued to stare, his mouth falling open in what was obviously surprise. "How?" Greg shrugged, the teen pursing his lips as he did so. "I dunno. He kept hitting on me though, so that was weird." Sparky''s eyes widened like dinner plates, the last bit of information pulling him partly out of his stunned daze. "He?" "Yep." As Sparky shook his head in confusion, Greg decided to take this moment to bring up something else that had been on his mind for a short while. Seeing no better time to get it over with, he decided to simply blurt it out. Cocking his head to the side, he wore a puzzled expression as he asked "By the way, do I look like a golden retriever?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Cutscene: Brockton Truck Simulator Cutscene: Brockton Truck Simulator April 16, 2011 1:15 PM It refused to stop shaking. Huang Wen couldn''t get the thought out of his mind as he made the turn onto Suntree Lane, several people screaming at him and honking their horns in complaint at his sub-par driving. The older man knew that at least one person would be calling the number on the back of his truck, complaining to someone in management about their "reckless drivers". It was expected, of course, regardless of how pointless the complaint would be. He wished he could have explained to them that it wasn''t his fault, but he doubted they''d care in the first place. There was always that one person who had to make their complaints known, regardless of whether they were valid or not. Personally, Huang couldn''t relate to that mindset. Tilting his head slightly, the delivery man''s attention was drawn to his truck''s radio, the busted up thing finally tuning into a station after months and months of nothing but silence and static. "...eetings, Brockton Bay. You''re on with Ben Rhodes," "And Tina Gershup," Another voice cut in, obviously female if the name alone wasn''t enough of a clue. "Listening to WKVW, with your Bayside talk, news and smooth,smooth tunes." A jingle played as the radio host paused, reciting the station''s name in a musical tone before fading out. "First on the agenda today, Tina, is something we''ve all been hearing about these past few weeks," "Let me guess, Mayor Christner''s re-election campaign?" "I wish, but this is a bit more gruesome. The BBPD put out some new information on the Archer''s Bridge Merchants. You remember all the reports?" "That I do, Ben." There was the unmistakable sound of papers being shuffled coming from the radio as the female host paused. "Last I heard, about two weeks back, there were three found dead and about four times that many brutally beaten." "Double both those figures and you''d be right on the money. Police aren''t sure if they''re dealing with an eager new cape, or more than likely, rival gangs making a play for territory. "New cape seems unlikely, Ben." "You say that, Tina, but we''ve had three new ones show up out of nowhere at about the same time." There was a slight pause from the woman, almost as if she stopped herself before saying something, only to continue moments later. "What? Do you think we have some sort of serial killer cape running l-" There was an audible scoff from the male host, the man clicking his tongue several times as he interrupted his female co-host. "Of course not. Of course not, Tina. Not at all. But what I have to ask is why any other gang in this city would really want Merchant terri-" Shaking his head slightly, Huang turned off the talk radio and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, trying once again to keep it from shaking under his grip. Making his way down another road, he quickly left the angry drivers and the local news behind, both on the road and in his thoughts. There was too much on his mind for him to keep mulling over small things like that, far too much. Immaculata, one of this city''s few private schools, was another of the things filling his mind, another distraction he was thankful for as he drove down the less crowded streets of Brockton Bay. His oldest was due to start school there in just a few months and Huang couldn''t help but be happy at that simple fact, regardless of what it meant. The fact that she was accepted had been a pleasant surprise for everyone, his wife unable to hold back her excitement as she hugged their daughter upon reading the acceptance letter. All of them came together as a family, raining praise on his daughter''s head for her achievement. It had been a wonderful moment, the man couldn''t deny that, but Huang''s ability to enjoy the moment had been soured rather quickly by one simple thing. Or rather sixteen thousand things. Huang had stared at the letter for several long minutes, utterly silent while his wife cried tears of joy in the background. The smile he gave to his daughter had been hollow, a response to the one she gave him more than anything else. How could he tell her that there was no way he could afford this much, that there was no way she would ever see the inside of a school not filled with leering boys in red and green? Immaculata was well-known for providing scholarships to graduating students worthy of them, students with the talent and motivation to make something of themselves. Huang knew that this was an opportunity. This was his daughter''s opportunity to be more than just the daughter of a delivery man, an opportunity he couldn''t turn away. Looking into his daughter''s hopeful eyes and his wife''s tear-filled ones, he already knew that he couldn''t bring himself to do it. Yet, the money¡­ Huang paused at another intersection, tilting his head to the left. His eyes met those of the younger man ¡ª more boy than man, really ¡ª of Japanese descent standing with his back to the wall, smiling through the cigarette in his mouth. A flick of the head and a raise of a tattooed arm told Huang all he needed to know and he made to turn, heading down yet another empty side-street as the Japanese man jogged ahead of him, slipping into the entrance of a wide alley. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The driver shook his head slightly, pulling himself from his own thoughts as he turned the shuddering wheel to reverse the cargo truck into a filthy alley. It wasn''t so much the garbage or litter, of which there was surprisingly little to be found. No, what made this place feel so dirty was the general environment. Regardless of everything else, it seemed to give off the air of being a place no one respectable would want to be caught in. It certainly wasn''t on his usual route, that much was certain. Although, it was rather pointless to worry about his route now, given that he wasn''t even on the clock. Huang hadn''t been on the clock for the last three days, really, and today was no different. Three days. In those same three days, his supervisor had called him twelve times, each time with a variation of "Are you sure you''re sick?" on the younger Vietnamese man''s lips. Huang couldn''t fault the man for his repeated questioning, what with Huang being one of the few drivers that he had. Still, the slight anger that rose in his chest at the man''s repeated offers for extra pay if he came in regardless couldn''t be tamped down, Huang several times finding himself hanging up the phone on the other man before he could finish speaking. Thirteen years of driving a van for the same company for four different men, delivering fish to the same companies in the same city and none of it was enough. He needed more. He had to get more. The truck driver let out a low breath as he slowly shook his head, still wondering what could be causing his wheel to shake. It couldn''t be the wheel alignment, he knew that for sure. It hadn''t been too long ago when the truck had been serviced. For something to go bad not a few months later was highly unlikely, considering his company''s mechanics took as much pride in their jobs as he did. Wheel still shuddering, Huang came to a stop at the back entrance of yet another seemingly abandoned warehouse, a wide steel roll-up door directly at his back. The delivery man heard the back door of his cargo truck unlatch itself and open wide, the Japanese man standing behind the vehicle doing his portion as quickly as Huang had expected before turning to the warehouse. Staring back at the now-opened roll-up door through his side view mirrors, Huang was faced with another uncomfortably familiar sight. His lips twisted up into a grimace as he spotted them, once again finding himself questioning if this was all worth it. He had to wonder what all of them had in common with each other as he saw them again, the group somehow as diverse as past ones had been despite being composed of entirely different people. Young women in such tight, revealing clothing that they could be nothing other than prostitutes filed into his truck, some of their faces bearing marks that Huang wished he couldn''t tell were bruises. Among their number were others, varying in age as much as they did skin color and walks of life. Children about the right age to be in high school, some of them still in uniform, as well as older men and women who looked like they should have been sitting on a park bench feeding birds rather than walking out of a dingy, worn down warehouse. They poured out of the warehouse door in a huddle, each of them seeming to cling to each other for support despite not actually holding one another at all. All their eyes remained downcast, each one barely twitching as they walked into the back of his truck, their bodies disappearing one by one. Following all of them from behind and getting into the truck last were young men ¡ª all of them obviously ABB ¡ª hauling boxes into the back of his truck, each of them looking oddly contrite. And just like that, the crowd was finished. Huang heard the back to his truck shut closed and he felt his breath catch in his throat once more as he waited for the next part. A few seconds later, the same tattooed man who had led him down this side alley opened the passenger door to his truck cab and slid into the seat next to him, a look on his face that didn''t match the ones his friends wore, oddly pleased as it was. "Tenku?" The young man held up a black bottle of beer, the container covered all over with yellow hiragana. It was a Japanese product, Huang knew that much, one that still remained popular due to it being one of the few liquor companies that survived the fallout of Kyushu untouched. The truck driver''s eyes flicked to the drink before snapping back to the smiling face sitting in his passenger seat. The smile seemed to add to his hesitation, leaving the older man unsure if turning down the young man across from him would end up badly. After a long moment, Huang finally shook his head, waving away the man''s offer with a muttered, "Thank you." The gang member laughed at Huang''s visible anxiousness, opening the bottle of beer with nothing but a hand wrapped around the edge of his shirt and a single quick twist. "Hey, don''t worry, old man. After this, you''re getting your money and you can keep your head down." Slowly nodding at the laughing man''s words, Huang turned the key in the ignition, the rumbling engine coming alive. The truck driver brought a hand to his brow, wiping off all the sweat on his forehead with the back of his sleeve as he let out a shuddering breath. Both hands fell back onto the wheel as he leaned back in his seat, Huang Lin holding on to it like a lifeline. His gaze dropped down to the object in his grip, the older Chinese man swallowing as he leaned back in his seat. Three days of of this and still¡­ Why wouldn''t it stop shaking? Mob 5.1 Mob 5.1 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 17, 2011 2:16 PM "You know, a girl has to wonder," Emma paused her sentence, spearing a rather juicy shrimp with her fork as she raised her head, "Just how are you paying for all this, Greg?" "Hmm?" Blinking, the blonde stared across the table at Emma, mouth full of food. After eating in relative silence for the last few minutes, a probing question like that from Emma was¡­ well, it wasunexpectedto say the least. "Uhh¡­ ummm, wh- how?"A quick swallow and a gulp of iced tea left him with his mouth free but his tongue still tied, Greg deciding to crack a slight joke in lieu of anything else to say."Well¡­ -w-withmoney? How else would I pay for it?" Green eyes regarded him curiously, the softest of smiles on the redhead''s lips. After a moment, she spoke up again, brushing down her poofy green blouse as she did so. "You''re not a drug dealer, right, Greg?" Emma raised an eyebrow at him, lips pursed as the blond continued to blink at her. "Because Ireallycan''t go out with a drug dealer. "No, no, no.No." Greg dropped his own fork and knife on his plate and shook his hands from side to side. "Why would you even think that? Drug dealer? Me?" He spluttered, shaking his head for a moment. "Come on, Emma. DoIlook like a drug dealer to you?" Emma''s lips quirked upwards, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she continued staring at the boy across from her. "I don''t think drug dealers really wear corduroys, so Iguessnot." Greg glanced down at his trousers curiously.Why does everybody hate corduroys? Emma didn''t give him a moment to marinate over the general public''s distaste for the fabric, continuing with, "Still, Greg, youdospend a lot of money. On our dates, on me, on¡­ well, a lot of stuff." "I don''t¡­" The blond paused to clear his throat, shutting his eyes as he took another sip from his ice cold drink. "I don''t think I spend that much money, honestly." Desperately trying to change the subject, Greg glanced down at his food again, once more picking up both fork and knife. "You''re so silly, Emma but¡­ uh¡­ how are you liking the food?" The redhead tilted her head to the side, raising her eyebrows slightly higher at Greg''s awkward attempt to shift the conversation into a direction he felt far more comfortable with. "You know you''re just giving me more questions." Son of a¡­Greg sighed, one eye closed in a pre-emptive wince. "More?" Emma shook her head slightly, raising the straw in the glass of water in front of her to her lips. As she let the white piece of plastic fall, she let out a sigh of her own. "Greg, sweetie, you''re fifteen and you don''t have a job. How do you just happen to have the money to pay for a thirty-eight dollar salad?" With a slightly raised eyebrow of his own, Greg glanced down at the seafood salad that Emma was currently picking at, confusion on his face as he tried to parse the question.That thing is thirty-eight dollars? Jesus Christ on a cracker, these guys are running a scam here. I could eat that thing in like ten, maybe twelve, big bites. "I mean, look at where we are," Emma continued, her voice low as she subtly gestured to the area around them. "This place looks expensive. How are you affording this?" Greg glanced around, wondering what she was referring to. Several tables adorned with flowers and white tablecloths surrounded them, the entire room done in shades of white with long and wide elegantly folded pieces of cloth hanging from the windows. A few people here and there milled around at their tables as they enjoyed their food but for the most part, the place was nearly dead.Sure, it''s kinda doing too much with all the decorations but I wouldn''t call it expensive looking. Maybe elegant, I guess. Truthfully, despite the fact that this placelookednicer, it was actuallylessexpensive than where they had gone to on the last date so Greg really didn''t understand what the big deal was. Still, he figured he had to say something. Shaking his head, he stared back up at Emma and blinked as he simply replied, "Allowance." The word left his mouth in a rush, Greg fighting the urge to wince as he said the first thing on his mind like so many times before.Oh great, now I have to explain that. "...You don''t have to lie to me, you know," Emma began, rolling her eyes. I kinda do,Greg thought with a slight frown.Lie to your parents and your girlfriend. It comes with the whole superhero lifestyle. Lies, deceit and the American Way. "You could have said anything else and I might have believed you," the girl continued, spearing another shrimp with the tines of her fork, "but ''allowance'', Greg?Really? If you were getting that type of money as allowance, I''m pretty sure you''d be going to some boarding school in Europe or something." Greg closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he did so.You know what, that''s my story and I''m sticking to it. I''m going to get as much mileage out of this as I can."Well, you''re right¡­ it''s not exactly my allowance." "Thank you." Emma let out a grateful sigh, nodding her head. "See, you don''t have to lie about it." "It''s allowance, birthday money, Christmas checks¡­" Greg wiggled his hand from side to side as he did his best to keep a straight face. "Basically all that type of stuff put together."How many half-truths can I push together until it makes a whole truth? You''d assume it would only take two but apparently, it doesn''t work like that. Emma raised her eyebrow again, the thing rising so far up her forehead Greg wondered if it would actually vanish behind her bangs. "Honestly?" The boy nodded, closing his eyes again as he took another sip. "Honestly," he lied. In all fairness, he wasn''t being all that deceitful. Greg did have alotof money in a bank account that his parents had set aside for him since he was a toddler. If his mom was to be believed, though, he wouldn''t see any sign of it before he hit eighteen. To be honest, Greg didn''t think that was exactly fair but his mom always bought him the stuff he asked for so Greg had never felt like making a big deal about it. "I still don''t get this." Emma obviously wasn''t quite convinced, though, as she continued her questioning with, "Isn''t your mom anurse?" "She is, yeah," Greg nodded, poking at his steak with a fork, "but it''s not like she actually needs the work. I mean, not really. Being a nurse was what she always wanted to do, I guess." Emma''s mouth pursed into a small ''o'', the girl tilting her head to the side. An almost visible gleam came into her eyes, the girl looking absolutely entranced by Greg''s words. "Are you seriously telling me that¡­" Emma paused, lifting a hand to her mouth as she continued in a more hushed tone of voice, "...you''rerich?" "Well, no." Emma blinked once again, obviously dumbfounded by Greg''s sudden walkback of his previous statements. "Not me, at least.I''mnot rich but my Dad is," Greg replied flatly, glancing out the window for a moment. "...orwas, I guess. I mean, he still kinda is but it''s alongstory and you probably don''t wanna hear it anyway." "What?" Emma''s eyes widen in a look that Greg couldn''t really parse, before she reworked her face into a smile and shook her head slowly. "Why wouldn''t I want to hear about it? You''re my boyfriend, right?" She fluttered her eyes at Greg, waiting for him to respond. "Uhh¡­ uh, right." "Exactly. So, of course I want to knowallabout you," Emma continued, a hand on her chest. "What kind of girlfriend would I be if I wasn''t curious? Now, spill." "Well," The blond shrugged, turning back to stare at Emma again with the slightest of smiles on his face. "Okay... I guess. Well, uh, I guess I kinda have to go a bit further back to like¡­ I guess, the 1930s, I think. Not super sure on this, but I think it definitelywassometime around there." Confusion fluttered across Emma''s face for a moment, only to be quickly replaced by an encouraging smile as she nodded for him to continue. "Basically, my great-grandparents basically left Europe after World War I ended and came to America with like a ton of money. Don''t ask me what they did to get it, I don''t know. Like a couple years after World War II was over, they bought a shipping business and put a lot of money into it, made it bigger and became like Brockton Bay''s biggest business back then, White Feather Line." Greg let out a slight hum and tipped his head to the side again.At least I don''t have to lie to her about this stuff. "Other than that¡­ well, they just did a lot of boat-based stuff, I think. They weren''t really big outside of anywhere past Boston but they were big enough that I''m pretty sure they also also owned a chunk of the Docks too, basically a ton of warehouses and¡­ um, yeah. Anyway, skip ahead like fifty years to 1996 and my grandparents - not great, just¡­ you know, the regular ones - are on vacation in Norway." Trying to recall all of this only deepened the frown on his face, Greg forced to remember all the times his father had gone on and on about their family with a tumbler of scotch in hand. "So, you can guess what happened when Leviathan showed up for the first time and sw-" Greg paused, blinking as he realized he had been about to say ''swung his giant water lizard dick around''.Wow, that was close. I really gotta watch what I say sometimes.
+1 CHA
"That''s¡­" Emma let out a slight gasp, her hand rising from her chest to her mouth. "That''s so sad¡­" "I mean, not really," Greg shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "Kinda, I guess but I mean, that was a long time ago." "But," The girl across from him tilted her head at him, staring at Greg with questioning eyes. "...they''re your grandparents." Again, this elicited nothing but a shrug from the blond, Greg screwing up his mouth in an expression too conflicted to call an actual frown. "Yeah, but I was,barely, like, a year old when they died so it''s not like I remember them." As the redhead continued to stare at him, Greg shrugged once more, unsure how else Emma expected him to answer. "Anyway, with my grandparentsmissingand all the confusion with Leviathan showing up for the first time, Dad wasn''t able to really take over the family business or get his parent''s stuff yet. By the time he did, he barely managed to sell it for like almost nothing compared to what it was worth like half a year before. He had to sell off everything too, all the warehouses, all the ships and even my grandparent''s house in Captain''s Hill. "I mean, god, he hated doing it, you know. My dad expected to inheriteverythinghis parents and their parents builtand all of a sudden, he basically had to get rid of it all before it was worthless. God, you have no idea how much that manhatedit." The blond let out a stream of air from his mouth, his neutral expression turning into a smile as he let out a small laugh with just the slightest note of bitterness. "Either way, even after he divorced my mom, we''ve never been hard up for money. I mean, sure, the prenup basically kept her from getting half of everything but she got the house, the car and of course,me.Mom still gets alimony and she only works because she always wanted to be a nurse anyway. So, she basically buys me whatever I ask for anyway and I always get everything I want for my birthday and Christmas so¡­yeah." "Wow." Emma blinked, green eyes wide as Greg''s smile brightened in an instant, widening with the last word until he was basically grinning."That sounds like a lot to deal with it. Is your dad¡­ Is he okay?" "Dad?" Greg snorted, the sound leaving him as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the guy''s fine. He''s living it up in Palm Beach right now. He does send me birthday money¡­ and Christmas money, too," He punctuated the sentence with another snort, his smile fading away.Not that it matters when Mom won''t let me even have it, anyway. "It''s almost always money, too. Rarely any actual gifts, cause why put in the effort, right? I mean, Dad''s always thought money was a good substitute for actually¡­" The blond let out a sigh, raising a hand to scratch at his nose, "well, actuallybeinga dad, I guess. I mean, either way, I''ll end up with all his money when he finally kicks it, so¡­yay, me?" Closing his eyes, the blond shook his head.Ughhh, what am I doing? Why''d I dump all that on her? Hell, why''d I add that last part? Now, I just sound like a greedy weirdo. Just change the subject, Greg. Change the subject. "So, Emma, what about you?" Greg spoke up again, a grin back on his face as he opened his eyes. The blond spared a moment to glance down at the half-eaten steak on his plate before looking back to Emma, his appetite suddenly gone. "Me?" Emma raised an eyebrow as her face shifted into a teasing expression. A finger roamed to the side of her mouth as she fluttered her eyes at the poor boy. "What else do you want to know about little old me?" "W-w-well," Greg stammered slightly, clearing his throat after a single moment of silence, "how''d your modeling thing go on Friday?" His smile brightened slightly with the question, thinking that he''d finally found a safe subject. "Actually," Emma''s eyes flicked up, the girl glancing at the ceiling before looking back at Greg with a wry smile, "It didn''t work out all that well." "Uhhh," Blue eyes shot her a slightly worried look. "Did something¡­ happen? "The company I model with barely has any jobs for me anymore and it''s¡­" Emma rolled her eyes, visibly sighing as she leaned against Greg, "It''s getting to me a little." "Wait," Greg blinked, leaning away from Emma to look her in the eyes. "Why wouldn''t they want you to model for them?" "Apparently, I''m not the type of girl they''re looking for right now. Basically, I''d be lucky to get anything else until I graduate." She let out a slightly bitter laugh, a single hand covering her mouth for a moment. "They just don''t want me anymore, I guess." "What?" This was enough to throw Greg off entirely, the blond trying to wrap his head around how Emma somehow wouldn''t be pretty to someone. "Are they frickin'' nuts? You''rebeautiful.You could be on a hundred magazines!" Emma shot Greg a look with her lips pursed, eyes gleaming in a way that sent a tingle down the blond''s spine. "A hundred? Me?Really?" "Really." Greg nodded fiercely, desperate to make sure Emma understood how serious he was being. "If it was up to me, you''d be on the cover ofeverymagazine."
+1 CHA
Emma let out a giggle, her smile shifting from bitter to amused. "Oh, you''re just saying that." "I really am not," Greg replied, shaking his head. "Why would they even say that they don''t want you? You''re perfect model material." "Not exactly," Emma''s smile disappeared for a moment as she let out a huff. Both of her hands went to her chest, stopping just short of cupping it as she stared up at Greg. "Yeah, these are out for high fashion models. They want girls looking like tall 10 year olds forever for those jobs and the ones I would be good for, I''m too young for. Ridiculous, right?" "Yeah,ridiculous," Greg began, his mouth suddenly dry as the blond did his best not to stare below Emma''s neckline. He leaned back in the booth, face gaining a light dusting of red as he turned his face away from her before she could see. Think, Greg. Be cool. What can you say that won''t sound creepy? Before he could come up with anything, Greg blinked as something brushed up against his arm, his eyes opening wide as he felt the samesomethingslide all the way down to his lap. His face reddened as Emma pressed up against his side, having slid across the booth in the short seconds he had looked away. "You know," Emma whispered, "If it was anyone else, I''d think they were just trying to talk me up." Her lips quirked up into an alluring smile as she turned her head to look directly at Greg. "Get me to like them because they want me to¡­ loosen up, you know what I mean." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Greg very much did, if the rapid beating of his heart was any metric to go by. "Uhh¡­ no, I''d never¡­ never do that."Blue eyes blinked rapidly, his breathing getting quicker as Emma leaned closer against him in the booth, her hand still resting on his thigh. The hand let go of him before returning back in the form of a finger, Emma''s digit quickly tracing a lazy finger onto his thigh. "No," Emma smiled, another manicured hand coming up to caress the side of his face with a soft palm, "you really meaneverythingyou say, you know. I can see it on your face." Why do people keep saying th-"Hahahaa," Greg let an awkward laugh spill out of his mouth as one of his legs inched over the other at Emma''s continued touch, the corduroy rubbing together as Greg slowly crossed his legs in a way so as not to draw Emma''s attention to his lower body. I need to¡­He blinked again, licking his lips nervously as the girl next to him continued to squeeze his leg with surprising firmness. I need to be calm here,Greg thought to himself, well aware that he was not at all calm.I need to th- Ohhhhh, she''s squeezing again!Shuddering at the touch that inched a bit too close to his upper thigh, Greg did his best to lean away.Why did I get a private booth? Why did Ipayfor a private booth? These are the important questions here. The blond shuddered again as Emma tilted her head up, capturing Greg''s mouth on her own and pulling him down as her hand held onto the back of his head.Think, Greg! What would Sparky say? ''Romeo, oh Romeo¡­ keep thy dick in thy pants.'' Greg marveled at the odd thought.Would Sparky ever say that? Most of Greg couldn''t find it in him to even care about what Sparky would or would not do as Emma''s grip on his hair tightened further, pulling him deeper into her kiss. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Emma Barnes was enjoying herself. That was something she never had imagined she would ever think with her tongue in a boy''s mouth, at least past the first few seconds. Most of the mouth breathers that chased after her were always far too forceful with everything they did past that point, bringing the enthusiasm of a football field into their interactions with her. Far too enthusiastic, really, almost as if they thought she had given them permission to do whatever they wanted. It was frustrating and more than a little annoying that the cutest boys often treated her like she was a piece of meat, only caring about her as long as they could hope to make it to second base. The fact thatGreg Veder,of all people, was the one person who she actually didn''t mind locking lips with was another thing she could never have imagined. It wasn''t just the fact that he was a cape. A cape with powers that she was still not sure of, sure, but Emma wasn''t going to deny that the boy she was currently kissing had somesortof powers. It also wasn''t the fact that Greg seemed to be a never-ending font of money, considering the extremely expensive phone she had seen him with today, and was apparently -potentially- loaded, either. It wasn''t even the fact that he was actually kinda cute, his look and behavior reminding her of a golden retriever puppy she used to dogsit for one of her neighbors. No, it wasn''t any of those. Or, maybe it wasallof those. Emma couldn''t really say for sure. Regardless of the specifics, Emma Barnes actuallylikedGreg Veder and she could no longer deny that as much as she could deny the actual color of her own hair. The redhead pulled away from him, hands trailing through his hair as she winked at him, licking her lips slightly. Wide blue eyes stared back at her, Greg looking more stunned than anything as he looked back at her with a glazed expression. She couldn''t lie. The sight was like a booster shot to her ego, the fact that she could make this cape completely and utterly hers with just a few touches, kisses and whispered words. Tight muscles trembled ever so slightly as she pressed herself up against him, the memory of one of their last date strong in her mind. Greg may have looked scrawny in his usual clothes, mostly baggy shirts, long-sleeves, and hoodies, but underneath all that, the boy was one solid hunk of muscle. These muscles, Emma knew for a fact, were the same muscles strong enough to damage a machine designed to be battered by thousands of people just because her date couldn''t help but impress her. Idly, Emma wondered if they ever fixed that Whack-a-Mole machine. The thought was driven from her mind as Greg pushed back slightly, his mouth meeting hers in a kiss that sent a jolt of passion through her. As passionate as it was, Emma couldn''t shake the feeling that Greg was holding back something. After a moment, she realized what it was. Greg''s hands seemed to be sticking out ramrod straight at his sides, almost like a robot with how stiff he seemed. Now, that wouldn''t do. Not even bothering to pull away from the kiss, Emma grabbed the boy''s hands and pushed them low on her waist until his palms were just hugging her hips..There we go. As her tongue dove further into his mouth and she pushed him up against the back of their private booth, Emma felt the blond''s movements still, his hands inching away from where she had placed them until they were at his sides again. Unable to fight a groan as Greg pulled away again, the redhead stared into his eyes. Green met blue, a slight tinge of annoyance visible in the former eliciting a slight wince from the latter. Aware of Emma''s ire, Greg let out a nervous laugh and stared back at her, an awkward smile growing across his face. "Wow. So, uh, Emma¡­ Uh, not that I''m not like, a big fan of this whole situation right now, but¡­" Emma raised an eyebrow as Greg paused, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips, her lip gloss still visible on his mouth. "Uh, uh, well¡­ uh, I''m not sure what I''m supposed to be doing right now." Unable to help her annoyance at Greg''s continued interruptions of the moment, Emma growled her displeasure. Granted, the sound came off as more sensual than angry but it had the effect of shutting Greg up regardless. Placing a hand on his undeniably well-muscled torso, a practiced smile grew across Emma''s face. The redhead leaned forward, her smile only increasing as Greg shuddered when her chest met his, and whispered into his ear, "You could just shut up and let me show you." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "You could just shut up and let me show you." Oh my god. The first thought on his mind was surprisingly borne of terror, rather than eagerness. The level of implications that Emma managed to fit into ten words was admirable, if it didn''t also send a slight shiver down Greg''s spine. Greg wasn''t sure when he had realized this but he had recently begun to feel a bit more aware of certain things, namely the looks Emma often gave him and the way she acted. It wasn''t too long ago that he wouldn''t even have noticed certain things she did, but now, they tended to make him squirm more than a little, creating butterflies in his stomach where there were none before. Frankly, he blamed both his WIS and CHA for this, creating even more problems for him. The teenage boy blinked again, mouth open as Emma grabbed hold of his hands and placed them firmly on her waist. Both of his hands were stiff and clammy as they rested on the girl''s hips, the blond''s feeling of stress intensifying as Emma purposely lowered herself into his lap, her knee-length purple skirt pooling around her.Oh no. As her behind met the fabric of his trousers, she grabbed hold of his collar and pulled Greg up until he was sitting straight against the booth and she leaned in close again. "See?Isn''t that better?" Rendered unable to cross his legs by Emma''s weight, he couldn''t find it in him to agree with the redhead.Oh no. His breath came in a quick sharp gasp as he felt Emma''s breath on his neck, the girl continuing to whisper things that Greg couldnotpay the slightest bit of attention to, far too focused on the movements she was making in his lap. "Em¡­ em¡­ E-Emma¡­ could we¡­ uhh¡­ maybe n-not do this h-h-here?" His stuttered breathing made it that much harder to talk, the situation made even worse as his voice jumped up an octave when Emma somehow placed evenmorepressure on his lap. "Why?" She didn''t pull away as she spoke, her voice a breathy giggle. Greg let out another breath as he felt her hands in his hair again, a light kiss on his cheek eliciting another soft giggle. "What''s wrong with here?" "P-people can see us." "It''s a private booth, Greg," Emma pulled away slightly, shooting Greg a look that told him she wouldn''t be dissuaded. "They can''t seeanythingfrom this angle." I feel like they can hear, though,was the lone thought that went through Greg''s mind. He didn''t get a chance to voice it, though, as Emma''s lips met his again. Whatever conscious thought he had faded into a haze, Greg getting lost in whatever Emma was making him feel. His eyelids slowly began to shut as Emma gripped the back of his head again, pulling him deeper into a kiss that he had no control over. Greg''s eyes finally began to flutter closed as he fully relaxed, his hands easing around Emma''s back, only for him to shudder violently and pull away from the kiss, taking in a deep gulp of air.
Kissing Lvl Up! 9¡ú10 Breath-Holding Lvl Up! 14¡ú15
Wha-He didn''t have a moment to complete the thought as he shuddered again as if stepping outside on the coldest day of winter with no jacket. Wide blue eyes stared past Emma, Greg suddenly struck with a deep sense of fear as he tried to think for a moment.That was¡­ That was my... Before another shudder could hit him, Greg turned to the confused redhead in his lap who was staring at him questioningly as Greg put a sudden end to their makeout session. Greg shook his head, quickly breaking out into a smile that was far more nervous than it was reassuring. "Emma, w-we gotta go. We¡­ we can''t be here right now." He didn''t even give her a chance to say anything, simply plucking her out of his lap and placing her down next to him as Emma gave a sudden yelp of surprise once she realized what Greg had just done. Apparently not willing to waste a single moment, the blonde emphasized his point by patting the seat rather quickly. "Come on, Emma!" The blonde slid across the circular booth until he could finally stand up and quickly dropped a few fifty dollar bills on the table, enough to cover the costs of their food and then some. Licking his lips nervously as he stared back at Emma as she began to get up from the booth herself, one hand gripping her small purse, Greg was suddenly glad that he had the foresight to remove the money from his inventory ahead of time. "Emma, let''s go." Just like that, the blond started walking at a rather quick pace, his gaze focused directly on the exit and the white-suited maitre''d standing there. In just a few seconds, he had walked past two tables of adults, both of them shooting him appraising looks as if wondering what an underdressed adolescent was doing in such a respectable eating establishment. Before the blond could even take another step, he felt a relatively hard tug on his arm, Greg coming to a conscious stop at the feeling. Forcing himself to ignore the feeling of another slight shudder down his back, Greg turned around to face Emma, despite being well aware that he could easily have tugged back on her arm and pulled her along with him. His worried expression quickly shifted to confused as he stared into Emma''s face as she looked back at him with an expression that was equal parts smug, seductive and teasing. "Something wrong?" The girl rolled her eyes, holding fast to Greg''s arm as he continued to slightly tug her forward, trying his best not to do anything that would attract too much attention. "I should be asking you that. Are you that nervous about a little PDA that you want to go somewhere elsethatbadly? We didn''t even finish eating yet." "Emma," Greg began, his expression falling apart as the girl continued to give him a knowing look.Just go with it, man."Yeah,yeah, yeah. You know what? That''s exactly it. I''m super nervous about kissing in public and it''s just too weird for me so,uh..." Greg let out a nervous laugh, one dress shoe tapping nervously against the restaurant''s carpeted floor as he glanced around to the two nearest groups of people watching the drama playing out.Should I warn them? Can I warn them? How am I supposed to- Shaking his head to push away the worries over people he had never met, Greg turned back to his primary focus and shot the girl what he hoped was a pleading smile. "Can we please get out of here? Like rightnow?" Greg made to tug Emma''s hand with the last word only for the redhead to let go of his hand, folding her arms over her ample chest as if scolding Greg for even trying. "There''s barely anyone in here, Greg", Emma replied, rolling her eyes again. She cast a glance at the nearest table, shooting them a glare fierce enough to convince the foursome to pay attention to their food. "And they''re all adults. They''ve been young before. Just sit back down and stop being weird." Greg''s fists clenched at his sides, the blond struggling to breathe as he held himself back from just throwing Emma over his shoulders and making a run for it. Holding back the urge to scream, he stepped forward slightly, Emma taking several quick steps back in response. The teasing smile on her face told Greg that she was goading him, trying to lead him back to their table. "Em- Emma", Greg pleaded, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to convince the redhead to listen to him in a way that wouldn''t sound insane. It really did not help that Emma only responded back in a sing-song tone of voice, purposely teasing him. "Whatisit, Greg?" "We have to go right now. Seriously, you have to listen to me. It''s-" Emma let out a slight hum, interrupting Greg''s pleading as she tapped her chin with her pointer finger, winking at Greg as she did so. "I''ll listen if you sit back down." Oh my god, why won''t you listen? I''m trying to keep you saf¡­ Blue eyes widened as another shiver went down Greg''s back, the blonde feeling a definite chill as something seemed to change in the air. The blonde looked up, noticing that Emma seemed to have felt something as well as she glanced around like Greg. Not only her, nearly everyone else in the restaurant seemed to have noticed an odd shift in the environment. "Oh, this isnotgood." No sooner had the words left his mouth did Greg stumble slightly as the entire restaurant building seem to shake, several people - Emma included - letting out startled noises. Greg''s eyes widened further, stumbling back and away from Emma as another sudden tremor seemed to hit the building, followed by a noise like a crack of thunder. The startled noises turned to screaming and Greg whipped around, trying to figure out what was causing all of this and setting off his Danger Sense like crazy.An earthquake? Brockton Bay doesn''t get earthquakes! Before he could do so much as let out a shout of his own to warn everyone to run, a thrumming noise was heard from all directions, and the sound of something cracking apart caught Greg''s attention, the blond raising his gaze to the ceiling. He let out a gasp, glancing back down to the girl several meters away from him as she stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. "Emma!RUN!" The ceiling split apart above their heads with a sound that Greg couldn''t even think to compare to anything else, the entire building seeming to rumble one more time as sunlight poured into the restaurant from above. Before he could even move, an intense flash of light, brighter than any he had ever seen before seared into his vision. The scream was torn from his lungs as Greg was suddenly knocked off his feet, something striking his body all over several times with force intense enough to knock the air out of him as it sent him to the ground. The entire restaurant was silenced in seconds, similar screaming voices quieting instantly as the entire building collapsed on top of them in a rain of debris. Mob 5.2 Mob 5.2 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The first few moments were hell for him. Several emotions hit Greg all at once as everything rained down on him, everything seeming as if it was falling apart. Light, heat, force; Whatever that thing was, it had been strong enough to hit him with all three, sending him to the floor as a wave of force knocked him over completely. As his head came into contact with the ground, a sharp burst of pain shot through his skull, forcing him to shut his eyes as everything collapsed. In that same moment, the entire building fell to pieces, entombing him and everyone else before he could react. Greg opened his eyes one by one, gasping heavily as he found himself surrounded by complete darkness. He continued to gasp for air, the darkness feeling almost like a physical weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard for him to draw breath. It didn''t take too long for him to realize that the sensation of breathlessness had very little relation to the darkness at all, and far more to do with the fact that there was a literal weight pushing down on him. Several weights, really; A pile of rubble weighty enough to prevent him from moving his legs and to make every breath a fight in and of itself. Breaking free was another struggle, Greg lacking any real leverage to lift the weights off of himself with ease. Still, he managed well enough. (+1 VIT) Gamer''s Mind had done its part in the struggle too, doing its best to keep him calm while he struggled to breathe and see, stress almost enough to make him hyperventilate when he realized what had happened. Coming to terms with the situation took him a little while, Greg nearly tearing up as he called upon his mana to shed some light on the enclosed area around him. The smell of it had been enough to make him gag already. Actually being able to see ¡ª confirming his suspicions ¡ª was even worse. So much¡­ just so much¡­ The plan came easy, really, compared to everything else. Rather than dwell on his situation or even focus on what had nearly brought him to tears before, he pushed his attention to something else. How to see, how to move, how to escape¡­ With all the options in front of him, he had no excuse not to be able to think of something. Still, even thinking of anything took far too long, Greg''s mind too preoccupied trying to understand what had even happened in the first place. Everything had happened so fast. Too fast. The shaking, the screaming, a flash of light, a surge of pain, and then¡­ Silence. The screaming, loud shouts of terror and raw cries of pain, from everyone inside the restaurant, was all just¡­ just gone. Permanently suppressed by so much falling rubble. The silence wasn''t absolute, though. Really, he almost wished it was. It would make things so much easier right now. No distractions to bother him while he struggled. But, no, Greg could still hear other things. The sound of unsteady debris above and around him threatening to shift and make everything so much worse, turning his current mission even more of a lost cause. That was all he could hear from inside, though, and even that was almost enough to make him crawl back under the wreckage that he pulled his way out from. Unfortunately, he could hear much more from outside of what was once one of Brockton Bay''s more upper-scale eateries. Sounds like the odd rumbles that had apparently set off his Danger Sense a few short minutes ago, distant explosions and the annoying symphony of car horns going off at once, combining with the explosions into a distant but overbearing din. Above all that, he could still hear screaming, though. Screaming and crying. Just not from anywhere near him. Even worse about it all was the fact that they were so distant, faint enough to just remind Greg he couldn''t do anything to stop it even if he was able to. Greg tried not to think about that last part, the teen willfully pushing those more morbid thoughts to the back of his mind as his fingers dug into the wall of what he assumed was concrete and brick directly in front of him. Dust and small bits of rubble rained on the blond from just above his head, the short ceiling of fallen debris not giving him much room to maneuver as he crawled forward on his hands and knees. As oppressive as the silence around him was, the darkness pressing around him came a close second. With both artificial and natural light lost to him, the only source of light available to Greg came from his own body, the bright blue glow of his Mana Glitter pushed to the fullest. Grains of light scattered from his open palm and stuck to the surfaces around him, each one providing some modicum of illumination for a few moments before a new spray of glowing motes. One hand out in front of him, Greg continued to sift through the rubble with his other hand, doing his best to lift and toss aside larger pieces of debris. He had to focus, Greg knew that. He had a job to do.
Find Emma Barnes Details: Locate Emma Barnes inside the destroyed restaurant. Success: +10000 XP, + 2 Stat Points Failure: Death of Emma Barnes
"Emma!" His voice didn''t sound like him, Greg realized after the first moment of silence after his scream. No, it definitely didn''t sound like him at all. That voice was too raw, too ragged, just far too rough to be his voice. Maybe it was all the dust in the air, doing it''s best to coat his throat and lungs with a fresh layer of thick, dark powder. Maybe it was the pain in his hands, his fingertips already bleeding as he kept on digging. Greg didn''t give either much thought as he paused for a moment, far too focused on his next action. Hunched over, he pressed his free palm flat against the wall of rubble and let out a low breath, careful not to breathe too much of the dust-filled air back in. For a moment, he was near perfectly still, the only movementbeing the rise and fall of his chest as he took short, measured breaths. Then¡­ "[Structural Analysis.]" Sapphire light surged to his palm, the glow a far deeper, richer blue than his Mana Glitter gave off. Again, Greg didn''t spare the time to appreciate that, nor did he pay much attention to the feeling of the mana as it traveled down his arm. Rather than dissipating into the air, the energy he could feel inside him seemed to purposely seep through the wall, ignoring the physical boundaries of the materials in front of him. Instead, his mana passed through the brick, tile, glass, and steel without much trouble, approximating a rough mental image of what lay in front of Greg. If he bothered to think much about it, Greg might have compared it to sonar.
Structural Analysis Lvl Up! 8¡ú9 Mana Glitter Lvl Up! 7¡ú8
The blond blinked as the image returned, his Structural Analysis providing some idea of what lay roughly half a meter in front of him. It was far from perfect but Greg could understand enough to be useful. Just like that, Greg knew what parts of the rubble he could lift aside, what he could dig through without too much trouble and what areas were likely to bring everything falling down on top of his head if he were to disturb them too much. Like the world''s most dangerous game of Jenga. Greg didn''t bother smiling at the joke, the thought more instinctive than anything else. Instead, he pushed the thought aside and went back to digging, the blond teen doing his best to avoid thinking about anything other than what was directly in front of him. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "[Structural Analysis.]" Greg uttered the words to the skill as he palmed the wall of wreckage in front of him yet again, shutting his eyes as information flooded his thoughts. Dust coated his body, remnants of the debris that had fallen over his head. His chest still stung from the rubble he had freed himself from, his right hand throbbing as he pulled another piece of rebar from the collapsed pile in front of him. Even still, Greg managed to ignore it, allowing himself to be subsumed by the calm focus that Gamer''s Mind provided him. So close. Right in front of him, less than a meter away was a wider area, a direct path out of the tight enclosure Greg found himself trapped in. I''m so close. "Emma!" One hand still spraying out the motes of mana that provided him light, Greg kept on tearing at the debris with the other, furiouslythrowing away anything in his path. So close.
Mana Glitter Lvl Up! 8¡ú9
Greg slammed his shoulder into the already crumpled mound of rubble, grunting loudly as his shoulder complained at the forceful action. Fighting the urge to cradle his bruised shoulder, he pulled aside one of the last pieces of construction material. A pained grunt left his mouth as he pushed forward with another shoulder tackle, sending dust and gravel flying back into his face. (+1 STR) "Emma!" Shouting again at the top of his lungs, Greg forced his way through the last bit of rubble in front of him, sending fragments of brick and building material flying outwards. Blinking through watery eyes, he took in the wreckage around him, searching for any sign of the redhead. The ceiling above had caved in, the entire thing nearly concave as it left little more than a few meters of space above Greg''s head, compared to the ballroom-like distance of before. There was far more illumination to be found too, just the slightest bits of natural light poking through overlapping areas of the ruptured roof and several larger holes. Open wires lay on the main floor of the restaurant sparking, surrounded by light fixtures shattered beyond all repair. Worst of all was the blood. There was just so much of it just... everywhere. Coating the rubble-filled floor and staining his hands and feet even further red was one thing but the metallic smell was so pervasive that it partly masked the smell of smoke and dust. Seeing the red liquid only made his heart beat faster, the smell hitting him like a sledgehammer. Blood pooled from beneath the wreckage, so much of it that it couldn''t have possibly come from a single person. His eyes spun from side to side, drops of sweat inching down Greg''s face as he held his hand even higher to spread as much light as possible. "Emma!" Silence. "Emma!Say something! Please!" His closed fist struck the ground, doing nothing but sending a jolt of pain up his arm as Greg let out another scream. "Emma!" Mouth open, Greg let out several ragged breaths, nearly wheezing as he inhaled more and more dust and smoke. "Emma!"
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
A shudder left him as he felt the calm settle over him again, his arms no longer trembling. For a few seconds he remained like that, completely silent as he just continued staring at his surroundings. He took in a single breath, low and controlled as he did his best to avoid inhaling too much dust. Greg''s eyes widened, his gaze rising as a slight sound hit his ears. He finally heard something other than the sparking of broken wires and the periodic dripping of blood, barely loud enough to be overheard over those other constant noises. A soft breathing sound and a gentle mumbling... It was her. Truthfully, Greg understood that it could just as well be anyone else, one of over a dozen people who were with him in the restaurant. Really, there were plenty of people who it could be, people who he couldn''t really care less about right now. Still, Greg couldn''t even bother thinking about them. If he let go of that little strand of hope, then there''d be no point in even trying anymore. "Emma!" Greg''s head whipped around as he tried to discern where the voice was coming from. There was so much rubble around. He could search for days in here and judging from all the blood, Emma didn''t have much longer. "Emma! Emma!" Greg heard it again, the slight sound hitting his ears as he forced himself to be as quiet as possible. Snapping his head from side to side, his gaze landed on a smaller pile of rubble next to a half-buried table and he knew that under all that debris, he''d find her. He dropped to his knees, uncaring as glass and metal cut into his trousers and stabbed at his legs, mixing his own blood with the puddle already on the floor. "[Structural Analysis!]" Information flooded him again and Greg let out a gasp, eyes widening further as he saw a blurry image of what lay under the rubble in front of him. A smile burst across his face and without even meaning to, the blond let out a burst of relieved laughter, bending over at the waist as the sound left him. "Emma!"
[Hysteria] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Shaking his head, Greg gulped as he came down from his sudden high, blinking in surprise as he found himself calm once more. Got to focus, Greg thought aloud, shaking his head once more. Can''t let myself get all¡­ distracted or anything. Grunting, the blond took the first step as he pushed aside a relatively large hunk of brick and masonry, the distinct design on it telling Greg that the building next to the restaurant hadn''t gone without its own damage. As he tossed it out of the way, he heard the sound again, this time just loud enough for him to actually hear the voice as it let out a faint noise. "...eg..." "Emma!" His voice cracked slightly, her name coming out odd as Greg screamed his throat raw again, shouting through so much smoke inhalation. "Emma, I''m almost there. J-just¡­ just hold on!" Hearing his name ¡ªpart of it, at least¡ª only bolstered Greg''s determination as he moved faster, dropping the surge of constant mana to allow himself the use of both hands. He dug like a madman, acting without much care for the stability of everything else as he continued to tear at the pile with only his bare hands. (+1 STR) He dug and dug, lifting and pulling with all his strength until he knew he was close. Forced to rely on what little light came through from the holes in the caved-in ceiling, Greg couldn''t quite see anything much but he knew that he didn''t have far to go. The image of his Structural Analysis was still vivid in his mind''s eye. Hands coated with blood tore at the last few objects in Greg''s way, the blond pushing aside a thick piece of wood with an audible grunt. Stumbling back, he hunched over and gasped as much-needed air rushed to his lungs. This is it. Dark as it was, Greg could barely make out the outline of a body resting on the remnants of one of the restaurant''s circular dinner tables, the faintest hint of movement catching his eye. "Emma?" Raising his hand up again, Greg pushed mana to his palm, motes of light bursting from his hand as he spoke the familiar words yet again. "[Mana Glitter.]" Blue light shone down on the figure below him and Greg took an involuntary step back, a gasp leaving his mouth as his eyes widened in shock. "Em¡­ Emma?" Unfocused eyes stared up at him, surrounded by a head of red hair splayed out into an unkempt mane to frame the pale gauntness of her face. "G¡­ G-greg..."
Quest Success! "Find Emma Barnes" Completed! Gained 2 Stat Points Gained 10000 XP
Mob 5.3 Mob 5.3 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "G¡­ G-Greg..." She blinked up at him with unfocused eyes, obviously struggling to make out his face as she lay limp on the restaurant floor, surrounded by so much rubble. Blood dripped from her nostrils, the sight itself odd considering her nose looked untouched compared to the cuts and bruises that littered the rest of her face. No¡­ The blond''s gaze dropped below Emma''s neckline, the sight of blood and purpled skin guiding the path of his vision. Her blouse was torn in places, utterly stained with blood both fresh and already drying, the green fabric even further obscured by the dust and dirt mixing in and caking on top of the red liquid. "Emma¡­" The sound of tinkling and breaking glass made itself heard as he stepped forward, dropping to his knees in shock, the light vanishing as he lost focus. So much¡­ His hands twitched as his hands just brushed her skin, palms coming away coated with blood as he tried to hold her. Oh my god¡­ "G¡­ Gre¡­ Greg?" Greg blinked up at her, the blond tearing his eyes away from her wounded body to look the girl in the eyes once more. Green eyes, previously dull and out of focus, seemed to gain some vibrancy to them as she met Greg''s quivering sky blues. "...It''s y-you..." Her voice was weak and raspy, throat likely hampered by the amount of dust and lingering smoke in the air, the pain she was in likely contributing its fair share to her state. "Y-yeah, Emma." His own voice came out weak as well, somehow sounding like even more of a whisper than Emma''s words. Trying not to jostle her body with his own shaky movements, Greg leaned into her, one of his hands finding its place in the one limb that managed to escape with barely any injuries at all. "It''s m-me. I''m r-r¡­ I''m r-r-r¡­" With a growl of audible frustration, Greg bit down on his lip and clenched his free hand in a tight fist. In better lighting, his face would have been a sight to behold, contorted into a rictus of frustration, anger, and an entire host of miserable feelings combined into one. Get it together, you idiot! Shaking his head, the blond relaxed his face, quickly doing his best to give the injured girl a smile as he leaned in closer to see her better, once more pushing down his negative feelings with a frightening ease. "It''s me, Emma. It''s Greg." Rubbing her hand gently, he continued speaking in a calm voice, voice steadier than it had any right to be. "Don''t worry, I''m here. Everything''s gonna be okay." Rather than answer, Emma let out a pained moan as she shuddered slightly, the minor movement tearing away the already torn left side of her top and exposing something Greg''s eyes widened at the sight of. ...No. No. Nononono¡­ The word repeated in his head, Greg unable to think of anything else as he watched Emma''s side spurt blood, the red liquid pooling at his knees. The smell of fresh blood and the stench of entrails had only gotten stronger the closer he got to Emma. Stupid. Stupid. So stupid. He hadn''t even given it much thought before, so glad to finally have found her and now¡­ Well, now he knew why. Even in the dim light and with all the prodigious medical knowledge of the average fifteen-year-old, Greg could tell that the wound he was looking at was terrible. If he wasn''t certain at first, the spurts of blood and the shaky, wet breathing sounds Emma let out every few moments made up his mind for him. Something had gone directly through her left side, possibly even her ribcage. That was¡­ Fuck! Greg found himself scowling again, his own breath coming far quicker as he realized the implications of something like this. He hadn''t really put much thought into how badly she could be hurt. Even with his own powers, he had felt somewhat winded and scratched up when he pulled himself out from under the wreckage. This is¡­ fuck! This is worse than bad! His wounds, in comparison to hers, were inconsequential. Some slight cuts and bumps, in addition to the slight pain in his chest and a gash above his eye, had been all the blond had to deal with. By now, he barely even noticed any such injuries on his own person, all of them having healed up in those few short minutes. None of that made him feel any better, though, not when he was face-to-face with something like this. "Emma¡­" She responded with only another weak groan, eyes dulling again as she seemed to stare past Greg. What''s wrong with you, idiot? Greg screamed to himself, biting down on his lip once more. Stop whining and start doing something! You''ve seen worse. You''ve had worse. Figure it out and save her! "Okay, okay, okay, I need to¡­ I need to think. I need to¡­ I need to..." Greg muttered to himself, eyes flicking from side to side without really looking at anything. He glanced down at Emma, some part of him quickly realizing he needed to know more if he wanted to actually get anywhere. "Observe."
Emma Barnes Lv 4 Teen Model HP: 29/155 A student at Winslow High School, Emma Barnes is a fifteen-year-old girl with good looks, ambition, and an eye for potential. A huge fan of capes around her age group but has a deep-seated fear of people of East Asian descent. Best friends with Sophia Hess. Currently in the middle of bleeding out.
Fuck! His inner voice rang with bitterness and more than a small amount of frustration, Greg unable to help but stress himself out even more as he read the last bit of information. That''s it? I already knew that much! While the information on Emma''s slowly dwindling health was somewhat helpful, as a benchmark if nothing else, the last sentence seemed only placed there to mock him. His own power, doing nothing more than rubbing in how ineffective he was. Currently bleeding out. I know that already! Wide eyes and shaking hands exposed Greg''s panic, the blond running a hand through his own filthy, matted hair as he tried to think of what to do now.I can fucking see that, you stupid thing! How am I supposed to do anything about this if that''s all you''re gonna tell me?! I need¡­ I need to¡­ His shaking hands stilled at once, blue eyes widening even further as the panic disappeared from his expression and was replaced with what could only be described as a sudden realization. I need to know more. The thought filled his mind, Greg now aware of what he could do to gain the knowledge he felt he needed. Letting go of Emma''s hand, the blond brought his open palm to Emma''s still-bleeding side, his other hand grabbing hold of her blouse. Greg quickly tugged at the tattered green cloth to expose the open wound, flinching at both the harshness of his movement and the gory mess in front of him. Whatever had pierced Emma''s side had not been smooth or very sharp, her skin appearing as if something had almost hacked it''s way through with a blunt object, a lengthy chunk of skin and gore hanging off her injury like an open flap. Dark red blood pooled and spilled from Emma''s exposed skin and what was likely bare muscle, Greg unsure in the dim light. More than anything, the blond was glad he couldn''t see the sight of bone. He wasn''t sure if he could handle that much. Greg stuck his hand out, preparing to make contact with the open gash on Emma''s skin only to flinch. The blond yanked his hand back before he even so much as touched the girl, the limb trembling despite himself. Stop it! He felt like screaming, unsure of why he felt so squeamish even with the reassuring lull of Gamer''s Mind tugging at him from the edges of his thoughts. Just do it! You can ignore it when it happens to you, but you can''t even look at someone else''s. Do it already! I''ll get you help, Emma. Don''t worry. With a slight shudder, Greg fought past his own revulsion and lowered his palm to Emma''s wound, flinching once more at the feeling of raw, bleeding flesh on his skin, the mere contact creating odd squelching noises that he fought hard to ignore. Part of him couldn''t help but stress even further over the fact that Emma didn''t even seem to respond to his action apart from a slight shudder of her own, her enlarged pupils still dull as she stared past Greg. If Observe Isn''t gonna work here, maybe... maybe Structural Analysis... It had been three weeks since Greg had first created Structural Analysis, just scant hours after his epic row with Taylor Hebert in that hallway. His first attempt had been on a remote control plane, a simple, flimsy toy that had been broken in his garage for years, already half a decade if Greg recalled correctly. The skill had dropped the knowledge in his mind, the plane''s design opening like a blueprint in his head. Nearly every single part of it had been dropped into his mind, Greg understanding it in seconds, knowing exactly what to do to repair the damaged portions of it. However, that only proved true for the simpler portions of the toy. The wood, the propeller and the basic mechanisms, Greg was able to grasp their understanding instantly, but everything more complicated than those simple parts, like the electronics, seemed to fall right out of his skull. Now, Greg was faced with a similar worry. The human body was both beautifully simple yet frustratingly complex, Greg knew that much from the several nursing books his mother left lying around the house. More than that, Emma was far more to him than just a toy. Even if he somehow knew exactly what was wrong, the odds of him being able to do anything to help her, especially in a place like this, was miniscule. Still, he had to try. "[Structural Analysis]." With a sense of calm that he really didn''t feel, the words left him, Greg''s hand stiffening as Emma''s body seemed to tense under his touch for no apparent reason. Greg glanced up at her face with a anxious expression only for his worries about her reaction to vanish a moment later. His iris lighting up with an unnatural blue glow, Greg''s pupils dilated in unison with the sudden ocular light show, hand trembling slightly as he poured more mana into Emma. In a sudden rush, more information than he ever expected to gain filled his mind in a manner of seconds, Greg''s hopes dropping even further with every passing moment. Rapid heart rate, breathing¡­ skin cold, pale¡­ superficial abrasions¡­ chest contusions¡­ weak pulse... fractured skull¡­ cracked ribs¡­ abdominal avulsion... broken tibia¡­
Structural Analysis Lvl Up! 9¡ú10 Basic Anatomy Lvl Up! 6¡ú10 Subskill: Physical Analysis Unlocked! Anatomy: Intermediate Ability Unlocked! Basic Anatomy ¡ú Anatomy: Intermediate
Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl Up! 1¡ú2 Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 (XP: 5%) The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
The glow disappeared from his eyes without warning, Greg blinking rapidly as his thoughts slowed down to normal, barely able to come to terms with the information rushing through him. Just that little list of Emma''s injuries was only the beginning of a much longer litany of problems, Emma''s wounds compounding on each other. Numbers and words still buzzed through his mind, no context to tie them down to anything else but they were there regardless. So many variables. So many options. And all of them were worthless to him right here and now when it came to helping Emma. He shook his head again, the slight twinge of a headache drawing his attention for a moment. Greg blinked again, letting out a slight grunt as he did his best to ignore the pain and glanced back down at Emma''s still form. Structural Analysis had given him all the information on every major injury on her body, a great many of them immediately life-threatening and that was before they all compounded upon each other like the world''s worst game of dominoes. None of them was anything he could fix on his own even if he tried, especially not trapped in such a filthy, cramped and dark environment like this one. Still, he had to try. He couldn''t just let her die¡­ at least not without trying something. One hand dropped to Emma''s side again, blood-stained fingers hovering over her most obvious injury, a gaping wound that Greg had to force himself to even glance at. His other hand gingerly lifted the thick flap of skin, muscle and raw, bloody flesh hanging from the gash in Emma''s side and pressed it against the wound itself, Greg shutting his eyes as Emma squirmed under him, letting out weak groans that spoke of the pain she must have been in. Just one more. Just one more. Most of Greg knew that all of this, everything he was attempting, was just an effort in futility. Emma''s wounds were bad enough individually, Structural Analysis only confirmed that for him, but altogether, they were¡­ They were¡­ nothing short of a lost cause. Emma continued to twitch as Greg loomed over her, the girl''s pale body spasming slightly even as Greg tried to hold down on Emma''s open wound. Pitiful moans escaped her as blood leaked from between her boyfriend''s fingers, coating his hands up to the wrist in fresh blood, Greg spending every single moment desperately wishing it was his own. Before Emma could injure herself further with her own movements. Greg opened his eyes and flattened his palm on Emma''s side and pulled up as much of his Will as he could muster, the veins in his right hand seeming to pulse with unused physical energy. "[Reinforcement.]" With a single word, Greg pushed his energy outwards, the front of his hand lighting up like a beacon as the blond channelled a strong yet steady flow of his own will into Emma Barnes'' frail, bleeding body. This was all he had left, really. The one plan he was forced to rely on due to his lack of medical equipment, experience or anything else that would actually let him be useful to help a girl in pain. What he knew for a fact was that Reinforcement¡­ well, reinforced his body in general, making him more durable when it came to taking any sort of damage. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. It didn''t increase the amount of health he had or anything but it stopped his body from falling to pieces from hits that should have pasted him and even seemed to work in tandem with his resistances. On top of all that, Greg also knew that Reinforcement could numb any pain that managed to stick with him, even the long-lasting pain inflicted by Lung''s claws and the burns inflicted by his pyrokinesis. Again, what he knew for a fact was that all of this worked for him. For Emma, all he could do was try. His palm continued to flare, the gold light bright enough that it seemed to light Emma up from the inside as well, her skin appearing to glow. Seconds passed as Greg kept focus, drawing up as much will as he could and maintaining a steady stream of it into the redhead''s wound. Blue eyes widened as he first noticed it. With his hands placed right below her chest, Greg had been able to feel it from this position already before, Emma''s heart hammering in her chest like a jackrabbit as she continued to bleed out. Now, though¡­ those frightfully quick heartbeats seemed to slow, returning to a steady, calm pace. With weak, fluttering blinks, Emma''s eyes returned to focus, her eyes finding his as Greg stared back at her hopefully. "Emma?"
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 13¡ú16
He held his hands tight over her side as they emanated golden light, the color seeming to revitalize Emma the longer Greg looked on. "Em? It''s me." His voice was low, almost a whisper as he tried to keep his focus on keeping the skill active despite never having used it quite like this before. "It''s¡­ It''s Greg." Emma opened her mouth, full lips parting ever so slightly as she took in a small, shuddering breath. "G-Greg¡­ y¡­ y-you..." Her voice trailed off, the rest of what the redhead would have said devolving into a coughing fit strong enough that Greg couldn''t help but worry for her even more. The blond fought the slight twinge of fear he felt as he spotted flecks of blood leave her mouth, the sight nearly causing him to lose his focus before Emma finally stopped a few seconds later. "Y¡­ you''re h-here¡­?" "Yeah, of course," He nodded quickly, unsure of what else to say. "Where else would I... be?" The girl in his arms seemed to accept that non-answer, nodding slowly as if Greg had just spoken some intricate words of wisdom. Opening her eyes after a long blink, Emma''s eyes flicked slowly from side to side before glancing down, her emerald eyes glimmering as they reflected the light from Greg''s hands. "W-wh¡­ what''s that¡­ t-that light?" "L-light?" Greg blinked at that question, glancing down in confusion at his own hands as if just seeing them for the first time. "Oh... that¡­ that''s a l¡­" Greg shook his head, licking his dry, cracked lips as he turned back to Emma with an inscrutable expression on his face, the blond not even sure what he was feeling right now.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 16¡ú17
Not feeling the urge to lie, considering the state Emma was in, Greg simply sighed. "The light? It''s¡­ nothing, Emma. Just¡­ just focus on keeping your eyes open. Okay?" "O-oh." Her reply was weak, green eyes slowly blinking as they stared into Greg''s focused bright blue, his gaze not leaving hers for a single second. "...Okay th¡­ then¡­" The ease with which she accepted his words only sent another jolt of fear through Greg. Please work. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Emma," she heard Greg say again, his grip tightening around her waist for some odd reason. Whatever he was doing didn''t hurt, not really, but she still couldn''t help but wonder why. "J-j-just stay with me, okay? S-stay with m-me, Emma. I¡­" Greg paused, his words interrupted by a strained gasp as he shook his head fiercely. "...no. No! I can get you out of here. After that, we''ll get you some help¡­ some real help." Help? She needed help? What for? She felt f¡­ Tired. She felt tired, but that was it. Emma blinked up at the boy cradling her side, frowning slightly as she watched his face twist into an odd expression. That same odd blue light was back again, even brighter than before, as it was accompanied by a golden light that was just as vibrant. Emma opened her mouth to ask Greg about it only to blink as something wet landed on her face. "We''ll get you some help, yeah," He furiously nodded as he absentmindedly spoke the words, cheeks glistening as tears trailed down them. "I''ll get you out of here then to the hospital and then¡­ Then, we''ll figure it out from there, okay?"'' Greg''s tone shifted again, his voice no longer wavering as he stopped stumbling over his words. Emma blinked away the dark spots in her eyes as she looked up at him, Greg''s face shifting in and out of focus the longer she looked. Everything sounded so¡­ far away, almost as if she was underwater or something. She shivered slightly, her skin trembling under Greg''s touch as she came to realize something else just as slowly. "Greg¡­" The name left her mouth slowly, Emma wondering why it felt like so much of an effort to say something so little. "G¡­ Greg?" She raised a hand slowly, once again filled with confusion as why everything felt so foggy, so¡­ distant. "Y-yes, Emma?" She felt the same wetness on her cheeks again, Greg''s tears hitting her face and distracting her as she tried to think past the fog, the tiredness, and everything else. "I¡­ it''s..." The words left her with a slow blink, Emma trying to fight past the tiredness as she opened her eyes again, "It''s cold." "Oh God¡­" Greg spoke in a desperate whisper, his eyes screwing shut for a single moment before he opened them again."It''s g-g¡­ It''s gonna be okay, Emma. Just¡­just... j-just¡­" Greg let out an odd sound as he snapped his mouth shut, the boy turning his face away from Emma''s even as the teardrops trailed down the side of his face. He glanced back at her, shaking his head. "Just stay with me, okay?" Another whisper. The redhead tried to nod her head, but even the energy to do that much seemed to be missing. Instead, Emma smiled up at Greg, attention drawn to the light that seemed to be coming from nowhere. Beneath her neck, it shone vividly, glowing even brighter as the blue overtook the gold for a single moment only to relapse again, each one continuing to pulse in time with the pressure she felt from Greg''s hands. "Emma¡­ Emma. Come on, Emma, please." Her name. He kept saying her name. Why? She could hear him just fine. Greg opened his mouth again and Emma slowly began to understand that might not be true after all. The blond holding her was speaking just like he was before, his voice wavering as tears dripped from his eyes, but she found herself struggling to understand the words. She opened her lips to speak again, possibly to ask Greg to repeat himself only for the words to die on her lips as she heard the sound of her own heart thudding in her ears. It was loud, louder than anything else she had ever heard, as it seemed to fill her head. "Emma¡­" She saw his lips move again, the words coming out thick and distant, utterly unintelligible to her own ears. Greg? She couldn''t find it in her to utter the name aloud, her body so drained that even keeping her eyes open felt like it took an ungodly effort. Bloody fingers tightened around her boyfriend''s stained shirt and she finally let out a gasp, wheezing as she took in deeper gasps after that one, her body suddenly hungering for air. "Emma, come on¡­ talk to me. You¡­ you gotta stay up, okay? Just keep them open. Keep your eyes open. As wide as you can," He rambled, continuing to press down on her side with light flashing back in his face. "For me, okay? Please?" Greg was still speaking, the boy''s words feeling like an unintelligible lullaby to the girl in his arms as she nestled into him for warmth. He continued his song, Emma smiling softly at the sound of his voice as she took another heavy, rattling inhale for air. She took a third as Greg kept pushing harder, the pressure on her side feeling almost nonexistent as her eyelids began to droop. Finally giving under the weight of her exhaustion, Emma Barnes let her eyes shut and the fourth breath never left her chest. "Emma!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C He didn''t stop. Greg didn''t think he could stop. Even if he could, he doubted that he would even entertain the idea of trying. Logic and reason had gone out the window the moment Emma stilled under him, her body refusing to react to his reinforcement anymore. Now, all Greg could do was push as much willpower as he could draw up at one time into the girl''s unmoving body. His other hand, palm aglow with cobalt light, poured mana into Emma with just as much restraint. There was no attempt to regulate his actions, not even the slightest bit of rational thought in his actions right now as Greg just kept pushing.
[Overwhelming Grief] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
The blond doubled over, hands lighting up the entire enclosed space with blue and yellow light as he poured all the energy he could muster into the unmoving body in front of him. Come on! Teeth gritted, he kept up the effort, uncaring of the fact that he was basically draining both reserves on something that he had no power to change. This had to do something. It had to. Please! The word repeated in his head over and over, the single syllable almost a mantra as his mind chanted it over and over, begging and pleading for this pointless outpouring of energy to actually have some meaning to it. Please! Please! Please!
[Overwhelming Grief] negated by G-
So much had happened in so little time. So much had gone wrong and he couldn''t do a single thing to stop any of it. This was his fault, Greg knew that. He was too slow. He was too weak. He was too stupid. And Emma was paying for it, just like so many other people. The blond screwed his face up as the last thought crossed his mind, the light from his hands nearly bright enough to obscure Emma''s body. His own thoughts doing nothing but beating him even further into the dirt, Greg drew even further from his reserves as he poured out more of his own energy in one sitting than he ever had before. No. No. No. Please. No. Despite his protests, Greg felt his body weaken as exhaustion finally hit him in full force, the blond having ignored the creeping sensation as he focused on Emma. Unable to hold himself up any longer, Greg''s body fell forward, his head landing in a puddle of blood, fat tears still trailing down his face as he found himself in the mire. No. From where he now lay, his gaze was positioned right above Emma''s injury, sparing him that gruesome sight so close up. Turning his head was a challenge in and of itself but he managed it regardless, glancing up towards Emma''s face. So much of his own energy suffused the girl''s unmoving body that even without him still channelling it into her, she still glowed with his light. Her body itself appeared lit from the inside, individual veins visible beneath her skin with the blue glow of mana while the golden glow of his will suffused her pale skin, giving Emma a vibrancy to rival that of Glory Girl''s. Even like this, she looked beautiful. Greg gritted his teeth as tears persisted their downward travel down his face, the blond letting out a frustrated, grieving scream without even opening his mouth. I''m sorry, Emma. I''m so s-
[Overwhelming Grie-
His apology faltered in his thoughts, Greg''s eyes widening with shock as the twin lights in Emma''s body dimmed to nothing and a surge of pure white light lanced from within her unmoving form, shining upon the entire area within the ruined building. Her body all but invisible surrounded as it was by the brilliant corona, it was all Greg could do but watch, self-pitying thoughts forgotten for the moment. It almost hurt to look at but the blond persisted regardless, narrowed eyes staring hard at the light blanketing Emma as he tried to make out her actual body from behind the wall of pure white. The longer Greg stared at the blinding wall of white light, the more he seemed to see, the stunning white light giving way to a myriad of colors running through it like threads. Two immediately stood out to him, familiar strands of blue and gold threading in and out of the brilliant tapestry of light but even they were nothing against all the others. Red, green, violet, orange, pink, and so many other variations on the color wheel danced in front of his eyes, seeming to vie for dominance, each strand brightening as they spread and subsumed others only to be overtaken by another. Within moments, the primary hues were gone completely, the curtain of white light over Emma now made up of varying shades and tertiary pigments; yellows so bright that they were nearly white, blues that looked more pastel than anything and a great many other faded hues. As quickly as it had appeared, every single trace of the white corona utterly vanished, the tapestry of dancing colors disappearing with it and leaving no sign that they had ever actually been there in the first place. Right where it was before, Emma''s body lay there still, unmoving atop a bed of wreckage and rubble like some sleeping princess. Did...Greg blinked in confusion, unsure if he hadn''t just hallucinated the last ten seconds. Did that j- For the second time in thirty seconds, Greg''s own thoughts faltered as something more pressing caught his attention, drawing the boy out of his own head. Blue eyes focused on the unmoving body of Emma Barnes, something distinctly odd about it adding a second strong dose of confusion to the mix of grief and anger making up his thoughts. Using one arm to steady himself, he raised his head with a slight grunt, extremely unsure of what he was about to do right now. Fighting off the overwhelming exhaustion that seemed to pervade his muscles, Greg raised a hand and gently reached forward to brush Emma''s arm. As his fingers made the barest of contact, the blond teen yanked his arm back as if burned, confusion and shock written all over his face. Staring back between his hand and Emma''s still form with a wary expression, Greg found himself tentatively opening his mouth, a single word struggling to make its way past his dry, cracked lips. "E¡­ E¡­ Em-" Once again, Greg didn''t let himself finish what he had begun to say, the rest of it dying in the boy''s throat as he looked back up, his eyes tracking the subtle rise and fall of Emma Barnes'' chest. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Mob 5.4 Mob 5.4 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 17, 2011 3:19 PM Emma. Greg let out a sigh at the thought currently holding center stage in his mind, the boy unsure how to deal with all the feelings just thinking her name brought up to the surface. So much had happened with the two of them just in the last hour¡­ So much. His mind was still reeling from what he had seen¡­ from what he had done. Holding a battered, bruised and bleeding body while trapped in that wreck of a building, cradling her to himself as he desperately tried ¡ª and failed ¡ª to keep himself from crying. Worthless. The thought repeated in his mind the longer he stood there, intruding into his other, more important musings like an alarm that refused to shut off. Unable to do anything worthwhile with something like that staring him right in the face¡­ how was he supposed to deal with that? Granted, his powers had been doing their very best to keep his head on straight. If it hadn''t been for Gamer''s Mind seemingly working overtime to keep him from falling into a bawling mess of nerves and feelings, he would have been even more worthless than he already was. Worthless. Whatever he could do to keep Emma alive, he had tried it. Everything he could think of¡­ pointless. Every plan that came to mind¡­ impractical. Every single idea that he could possibly pull out of his stupid brain¡­ Worthless. He stood slumped against the wall, head down as loud noises assaulted him from all sides. Such was the nature of a hospital''s emergency room, all that and bright fluorescent lights searing into his eyes without a hint of mercy. Really, Greg wouldn''t have expected any different almost any other day. "We were at¡­ at¡­ I think the place was called¡­ Highlight¡­ or something," Greg muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a free hand as he tried to bring the actual name of the place to mind. "Or¡­ I don''t¡­ I don''t know. Maybe¡­ Daylight¡­" Today, though, with all the overcrowding and the din of people complaining of their pain ¡ª whether through actual words or a much more guttural form of communication ¡ª it wouldn''t have been wrong to say that the mass of humanity was almost overbearing due to the sheer volume of people packed into such a tight place. At least it would have been if Greg bothered to even pay the slightest bit of attention to all the chaos going on around him. His attention was unusually focused at the moment, the boy''s eyes staring straight ahead at the blank wall in front of him as he held the rectangular rose-colored object in his hand to his ear. "It was a place¡­ in downtown, I guess. Skylight, maybe¡­ Look, I¡­" He paused, fingers tightening around the phone slightly as the man on the other end raised his voice. "... I guess¡­ maybe¡­." The pink phone wasn''t his, of course. He doubted he would ever willingly use any pink item if he could help it, to be honest. Really, what boy his age would? Still, circumstances required him to use the device regardless of the fact that the person who it belonged to wasn''t aware that he actually had it. Not that they were aware of much at all right now, to be honest. "...Moonlight, yeah," Greg nodded along, closing his eyes with a relieved sigh as he finally recalled the name. "Moonlight¡­ that was the place we went to." The blond took in a deep breath as the man on the other line continued to speak, the deep baritone voice managing to keep his attention despite the voices of the many, many people crowding the emergency room acting as background noise. He couldn''t help but ignore everything else, though, far too focused on trying to keep his head straight as the voice continued to grill him. "I''m not lyi-" Greg frowned, eyes narrowing as he pulled the phone away from his ear slightly, the voice on the other end almost shouting his head off. With a deepened frown, he placed the smartphone back on his ear. "Look, would I even lie right n-" His other fist tightened at his side, jaw hard as he paused again for a few seconds before biting out the sentence, "Yes. I said Moonlight." Another pause. "That is where we went." The boy blinked as the voice on the other end spoke up again, unsure of why this line of conversation was at all necessary. "I paid for it¡­ Yeah, with myown money. What else?" Another shout met his reply, the baritone gaining a new level of volume born from whatever annoyance the man on the other end was feeling. Greg forcefully shut his mouth rather than let himself speak, the teen well aware that the next words out of his mouth would not help this conversation at all. Gritting his teeth, he spoke again. "Yes, I know how much it costs. I''m not st-" "...No¡­ no. No. Listen, I¡­" He cut himself off halfway again, fingers curling dangerously around the phone in his hand as he stared straight ahead with narrowed eyes. "No, nothing like th¡­ Alright!" Greg bit back, yelling back with just as much heat to his voice as he had received. Ignoring the stares of several of the waiting patients and on-duty nurses startled by his outburst, the blond shook his head and continued speaking. "You don''t believe me. That''s¡­ that''s okay." "Look¡­" The blond let out a tired sigh, eyes drooping slightly as he leaned further back against the wall. He didn''t have it in him to be angry right now, mind too occupied on far more important things than to waste it on something as worthless as this. "Look, Mr. Barnes, you don''t have to believe me, alright? I''m just trying to tell you what happened." There was silence on the other end. Sadly, it barely lasted long enough for Greg to take a breath. "... No. No, I''m not saying¡­ No, I''m not calling you¡­ Seriously, I''m¡­ I''m¡­ I''m not... Fine." With an edge to his voice that Greg didn''t think he had in him right now, the blond grit his teeth and continued speaking, eyes narrowed to annoyed slits. "Think what you want. I''m not the one with a daughter in the hospital." Hanging up before Emma''s father could say anything else, Greg dropped the phone into his pocket, the device vanishing into his inventory as the blond muttered the word under his breath. Shaking his head in a mixture of annoyance and exasperation, the teen found himself muttering another word under his breath, one that perfectly conveyed his feelings toward Alan Barnes. "Dick." Greg Veder let out an exasperated sigh, sinking further into the wall in a display of tiredness that he wished was more physical than mental or emotional. With another sigh, he let himself slide down the wall, finally sitting down as he sank to the linoleum floor. If it was a matter of rest, he could just sleep off this feeling and be right as rain in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, the blond doubted something as mundane as a nap would ease any of his problems right now. Another sigh left his mouth as Greg raised his gaze upwards, turning to glance at one of the several televisions hanging from the wall of the waiting room. It was tuned to the Brockton Bay News as all of them were, every single TV set displaying scenes that wouldn''t look too out of place in an urban war zone. He stared at it for a few seconds more before turning his head away, a disgusted scoff leaving him. None of it was anything he hadn''t already seen on his way here. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Forty-Eight Minutes Ago ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Come on. Come on. Greg thought to himself, eyes narrowed. He thrust his arm out one more time, a grunt of annoyance leaving him as he did so. The young man let out a grimace as he twisted his wrist and pulled back his arm, a shaft of light meeting his eyes and forcing a wince from him. The hole he made in the wall was small, admittedly, but it was enough. Enough for the sounds of screaming and chaos to fill the cramped space of the ruined restaurant. He brought his arm back down again and in one movement, a long furrow was carved through the wall, sending a wide shaft of light across Greg''s face. Just a couple more and this will be over with. It was hard enough doing this with only hand, moving slowly enough that he didn''t send the entire thing collapsing down on his head. What made it even harder was the unmoving figure slumped over his shoulder, further hampering his range of motion. It hadn''t taken more than a second or two for Greg to confirm that whatever that strange light show had been, it had managed to restart Emma''s heart. Under Greg''s continued vigil, he could only watch with muted surprise as the worst of Emma''s wounds began to fade in front of his eyes over the next few minutes. It was shocking to see, to say the least, and for several minutes, Greg found himself torn between grateful surprise and puzzled musing over whether this was how Sparky felt every time he saw Greg''s wounds heal in front of his eyes. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. His conflicted emotions hadn''t lasted for long, however. After using his Structural Analysis to confirm that Emma was no longer in danger of dying, Greg quickly realized he had to get the two of them out of here. While the girl in front of him wasn''t quite in critical condition anymore, it would have been a far cry to call her okay. Greg knew that what she needed was actual medical help, i.e., nothing he could ever hope to provide. At least for now, Greg thought to himself, an unusual focus in his eyes. I''ll see what I can do to fix that. With one hand keeping Emma in place ¡ª albeit greatly assisted by his Surface Adhesion skill ¡ª the other remained free enough for Greg to continue slashing at the closest wall he could reach, Gram firmly in hand as the sword continued to glow with a steady application of Reinforcement to the named weapon. Whatever the building material was, it couldn''t stand up against the edge of the blade, Greg continuing to slide the sword through the barricade in front of him and meeting as much resistance as he would expect from warm butter. Each cut was a careful one, despite how it may have looked to anyone else not named Greg Veder. A single use of Structural Analysis had told him all he needed to know about the structural weak points of the section of wall in front of him and he did well to keep the image in mind as he continued his work. Staying well away from the parts that served to give some sense of stability to the slumped-over wreck of a restaurant, Greg continued to slowly and steadily make himself an exit. His hand came down once more, the last cut intersecting the previous few as he dragged the blade diagonally across the wall itself. Several cuts had been made through the wall, nearly a dozen of them intersecting each other in order to weaken the area as much as possible without inadvertently causing a structural collapse of the entire thing. Let''s get this over with. Steeling himself for the next part, Greg dismissed the sword in his hand with a muttered "Inventory" and took several long steps back before turning to focus all his attention on the wall in front of him. His blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward ever so slightly, one hand tightening around Emma''s legs as he reaffirmed she was still there. Okay. Greg raised one hand to protect his face and just like that, he said the words. "Reinforcement¡­ Burst." -40 For an instant, the blond almost froze up as he felt a stabbing pain all over, his muscles protesting this trial run of a previously untested skill. Then, just like that, the pain dulled to nothing and Greg rushed forward, moving faster than he ever had before. Body aglow as he exploded outwards through a section of the wall onto the sidewalk outside, he would have stood out like a sore thumb in any other situation, especially with Emma slung over one shoulder like so much dead weight. Amid the chaos of several cars and buildings lit up with flames, smoke clouding the skyline and streets pockmarked with craters and filled with wreckage, he was essentially invisible. Everything around him looked like it had been ripped from the pages of a war zone, the sights and sounds sending a slight chill down Greg''s spine. A single building collapsing was bad but that could be explained away as a cape fight that got out of control. It happened often enough, but not usually anywhere near such a populated area as Downtown. Still¡­ for the entire street¡­ hell, several streets¡­ For them to look like this, something serious had to be going down. Greg''s fingers tightened into fists as he glanced around, spotting the few people still remaining on the streets running around like chickens with their heads cut off; most had already abandoned their cars in the middle of the street to find cover. Fuck. He turned his head to scope out both ends of the long street, wincing as he saw how long the traffic jam was with so many cars left behind as people ran for make matters even worse was the fact that there was rubble blocking the majority of one end of the street, preventing event the people that were still in their cars from moving any faster than a crawl. Fuck. The blond winced as he realized something else, another cherry to top off this terrible sundae of a day. As bad as the traffic situation was, there was no chance of an ambulance making its way to him anytime soon, even if he called right now. I''m gonna have to walk to the hospital, huh. Greg let out an exasperated sigh, not knowing what else to say right now. Fuck. Fortunately, he didn''t have to stay on foot for all that long, really. After spending about five minutes running towards Brockton Central, the young man came across several ambulances attending to a crowd of people, most of the people looking more shocked and terrified than hurt in any way. As such, with Greg and Emma looking as bad as they did, they were quickly given priority over everyone else. Greg didn''t bother protesting when the EMT''s loaded him onto a stretcher, Emma''s unconscious body right beside him in another one as they rode together in the ambulance. The questions they had for him, though, were another matter and proved almost as nerve-wracking as the way they repeatedly kept looking at his body. The glass still cutting into his skin in places was visible to them, Greg knew that, as were fragments of shrapnel embedded in his thigh¡­ yet they stopped asking questions soon after, turning their gazes away when Greg began to pick out the foreign objects from his body. His HP remained as high as ever, so pretending to be hurt was pointless in the first place. In the end, he doubted either of them bought his feigned ignorance but it wasn''t like he was ever going to see them again, so what was the point? The knowing look that the two EMT''s shared had done little to ease his nerves for the rest of the ambulance ride, leaving him even more thankful when they finally arrived at the hospital, the ambulance hurrying through the emergency entrance doors with Greg running at their side, the EMT''s not even trying to pretend they didn''t know he was unhurt. Much like the city outside, the people in the emergency room had looked¡­ war-torn. It wasn''t just the wounds and the general sense of havoc and chaos in the air of the hospital, nurses and orderlies running back and forth dealing with the hive of human suffering in front of them. It was the looks on everyone''s faces, a mix of fear, stress and general exhaustion that seemed far too intense for a situation that had begun less than an hour ago. Greg supposed that the sight of everyone appearing so hollow might have held his attention for a few moments more if he hadn''t stumbled into someone just scant seconds after entering the hospital. Blue eyes stared back at him as he crossed the threshold, expression shifting from focused to horrified as they took in every inch of his filth-encrusted body. The blond had assumed he''d looked pretty bad, considering what he had been through. Still, it took his mother''s face paling in front of him for Greg to realize that he likely looked even more hurt than the people in actual need of medical help. It could even be said that he looked even worse than a good many of the people in here with both his flesh and clothes marred with so much caked-on grime to the point that he was virtually unrecognizable. Either way, it seemed like for everyone, this day was definitely hell. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Now ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C Greg sighed again as he raised his head again, the back of his skull meeting the wall one more time. Bloody fingers tapped out an unsteady beat on the wall behind him, progressively staining the off-white paint with every moment of contact from his dirt-encrusted digits. Gross. As he sat there on the floor, his fingers traced a patch of skin on his thigh exposed to the elements by his ripped trousers and frowned as just that light action pushed aside a small clump of blood-encrusted grime. God, I probably look like a zombie or something right now. No wonder Mom looked like she was gonna pass out when she saw me. The blond glanced down as that thought went through his mind, his attention suddenly drawn to a pair of familiar white shoes below a set of baby blue scrubs as they came to a stop in front of his slumped-over body. "Greg? Sweetie..." Speak of the devil... Mob 5.5 Mob 5.5 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Speak of the devil¡­ Greg blinked as he quickly ducked his head, confusion flitting across his expression as he mulled over his last few thoughts. Did I just call Mom the devil? What the hell is wrong with me? "Greg?" His mother''s voice met his ears again, the boy forcing himself not to let out a relieved sigh at the sound of her soft voice once again. It wasn''t that she hadn''t spoken to him at all since their fight. His mom wasn''t the type to keep up the silent treatment for long at all. It just wasn''t in her, Greg knew that much. What had been eating at him was that when she would speak, she just didn''t sound like she wanted to talk to him. So, right now, hearing her voice without any of the annoyance or bitterness that had been present over the last few days was¡­ Well, it felt good. Ugh¡­.Shaking his head as if to physically dislodge his own mopey thoughts, Greg finally lifted his head to stare up at his mother. She stood roughly a meter away from him, taking up space in the center of the hallway while he sat slumped up against the wall, knees curled up to his face. The fluorescent light directly behind her head seemed to scatter around her hair, giving his mom''s face a slight glow that seemed to cut through her slightly frazzled and exhausted state. The look on her face was hard to decipher, apart from looking vaguely negative, but even then, Greg couldn''t prevent himself from smiling despite the slight frown on her own face. With a slight grunt, simply out of habit than any legitimate effort, the young man pulled himself to his feet and gave his mom a closed-mouth smile that she wouldn''t have to crane her neck down to see. "Hey, Mom." A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two of them before his mother broke it, opening her mouth as a slightly forced smile made its way onto her face. "How¡­ how are you feeling?" "Uhhhh¡­" Greg blinked, unsure exactly how to respond to that one. How am I feeling? It was a question with too many answers, Greg realized, and none of them were responses he felt like sharing with his mother, at least not right now. Chewing his lip, the boy turned his face aside as he gave his mom a weak shrug, simply sighing after another pregnant pause between the two of them. "... I don''t know. Fine¡­ I guess." "What?" The word came out in a low whisper, almost a hiss as Susan''s hands went to her hips, the woman striking a pose that was essentially instinctive to all mothers by this point. The look Susan sent him was filled with all sorts of motherly indignation, another thankful reprieve from the legitimate tension that had been part of the last few days. "You think this is¡­ fine?" "Yeah, pretty much." For a moment, Greg had to fight the urge to smirk at his mother as she did a small double take at his words, the baffled expression spreading across her face warring with her common sense as she looked her son up and down slowly and carefully. "It''s not that bad." "But you..." Susan paused, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds as she tried to grasp for the words, "you look¡­" There was another pause from the blonde nurse, her hands falling from her hips to hang at her sides. Greg could almost feel the exhaustion sink into her expression as she seemed to slump slightly, her shoulders drooping as she shook her head and asked him slowly, "Just¡­ what happened to you, sweetie?'' What do I even say to that? Greg thought to himself as he stared back at his mom, utterly unsure as to how he was to answer. Even if he had a whole week to come up with a question, the teen worried that he might still be as lost for words as he was right now, at least in regards to his mother. Seriously, what am I supposed to say to that? "I¡­" Greg paused, the thought of telling his mother the truth coming to mind for a long moment. "Greg?" He winced at the sound of his mom''s voice, somehow managing to plead with a single word. "Sweetie..." Finally, he relented. "I don''t know," he hissed out loud, the sound more like a rough whisper without any heat to Greg''s voice. Tired, pleading blue eyes stared into his, his mother taking a slow, careful step toward him. "Greg¡­ please. I know you don''t feel like talking to me right now-" Oh, so I''m the one not talking now? Greg couldn''t help biting back in response to his mother''s attempt at the silent treatment the last few days, free from reproach in his own thoughts. "-but I need to know," she continued to plead. "You don''t understand what it''s like as a mother, seeing your child like this. Please, Greg." "Mom¡­" The boy in question shook his head again, struggling to think as his head seemed to pound. The frigid air of the waiting room didn''t do much to ease him into a sense of comfort, air conditioning biting at his skin and forcing a slight shudder from him before Greg could even open his mouth once more. "Mom, it''s¡­ it''s not that. I really don''t know." The disbelieving expression on his mom''s face didn''t shift, Greg sighing as he began to speak again. "Seriously." Susan let out a sigh of her own, tilting her head forward slightly as she took another cautious step forward, now less than half a meter away from her own son. "Then what can you tell me?" "Me and Emma¡­" Greg paused to lick his lips, grimacing a moment later as he tasted nothing but dried blood, ash and dirt on his tongue. "We were just finishing up lunch at this place downtown when¡­ I dunno, everything just started shaking¡­" His grimace deepened, becoming a full-blown scowl as Greg recalled how stupid he had been, not simply running out of the restaurant. Emma would have followed him if he had made it seem more urgent, after all. It was all because he was dumb enough to downplay how serious everything was. "That was probably more places exploding all around us, now that I think about it," he continued, his voice lowering to barely above a mumble as he bit his lip. "Then there was this weird humming noise and a big flash of light and the whole building just¡­ it just fell apart¡­ right on top of us. That''s all I really know. Everything else I got from..." He shrugged, gesturing up at the closest TV, "...well, there, I guess¡­ Mom?" Greg''s nose wrinkled, the blond pulling a face at the slight gasp his mom let out, her face pale at what her son had just described. "It wasn''t¡­ wasn''t that bad, Mom. Not like what you''re thinking," he paused, grimacing at his own words. At least, I hope not. "I mean, some stuff fell on Emma but I pushed that off and got her out of there. Nothing really happened to me." Unless you count some broken glass in my skin and a few cuts here and there as nothing. Her shocked expression faded slightly as Greg explained, shifting into a parental worry that seemed on the verge of panic. "And¡­ the¡­ the blood?" Susan whispered, fingers twitching as she glanced at Greg''s body, a large part of his visible skin and the remainder of his tattered clothes stained with the dull brown of dried blood. "Where did that¡­ all that come from?" Greg shut his eyes. And there it is. Opening them again, the blond tried his best to shoot his mom a reassuring grin, quickly abandoning that route when he remembered that his teeth were still stained with blood, the saliva in his mouth doing a good job at keeping what remained fresh. In short, his mouth was a horror show and showing that to his mother was absolutely a terrible idea. Instead, the blond tilted his head to the side and shrugged. "Well¡­ if it makes you feel better, none of it''s mine," he lied. A good chunk of it, of course, was his and Greg knew that. Still. it wouldn''t do any good to tell his mother that. Yeah, I lost a ton of blood, ma, but I''m not hurt¡­ somehow. Don''t bother checking for wounds. You won''t find any. "I''m just fine," he asserted. "Really." If anything, his words seemed to make things worse as his mother almost looked heartbroken, the implications of Greg''s statement likely hitting her. Susan paused, raising a hand to her mouth as she surveyed his body, likely taking in how haggard and beaten he looked. The slight tears in her eyes only brought another mental groan to the forefront of Greg''s mind. Not for the first time, Greg couldn''t help but wish that his powers fixed his appearance as well whenever his HP returned to full. Looking like a zombie didn''t really help his case right now. Unable to come up with anything else to say, Susan Veder simply shook her head and continued with a soft, "...your hair." Greg winced. Ughh, great. Now, I feel like the bad guy. Fighting the urge to wince again at his own bitter thoughts, Greg simply raised a hand to his hair and frowned at the feeling of it. Thick, matted locks laid flat on his skull, all the usual life and bounce gone from his hair. Thankfully, nothing dripped from it anymore the way it did when he was still stuck in that building but that was only the smallest of victories, really. As it was, much of his hair remained clumped together with the aid of a mix of dirt, sweat, blood and small pieces of building material so thick and viscous that Greg wouldn''t be surprised if it could be used as a suitable replacement for actual mortar. Even without a mirror, he could tell everything above his forehead was an absolute mess. "Yeah¡­ nothing a good shower won''t fix, though." He did his best to work his mouth up into another closed smile, his mom obviously not buying the attempt at a positive expression judging by the continued look of apprehension on her face. Susan''s look of panicked worry shifted slightly but didn''t exactly fade, Greg realizing that his mom wasn''t yet done questioning him by the look on her face. Before she could even get a word out, he opened his mouth to change the subject and, bereft of ideas, simply spoke the first words on his mind, unburdened by any trivial things like forethought or social mores. "How is she?" How is she? Greg winced at his own lack of conversational skill, the situation suddenly apparent to him as his own words echoed in his head. Have you ever heard of a segue, you idiot? The words had left his mouth in a rush, Greg unable to stop himself as soon as the thought popped into his head. He had been wondering it for a while and with a free moment, the words had simply jumped out without him paying attention. Truth be told, it wasn''t as if he was asking the question out of the blue. His mother had been one of the nurses to take Emma away from the EMT''s, moving her into another room and away from Greg. That had been well over twenty minutes ago and for his mom to be free enough to come see him, well¡­ Something had to have happened. Whether it was good or bad was another question entirely. "She?" Susan blinked, staring at Greg with all the confusion one would expect from such a rapid change in topic. "What?" Greg shook his head, already hoping this wouldn''t turn into a repeat of last time. "Emma, Mom. The girl I came in here with." He sighed as his mom''s expression shifted, preferring the confusion to the frustrated look she now wore. "How is she?" His mother''s mouth again twisted in an expression that Greg couldn''t really decipher, the only thing he could get from it being a vague sense of distaste. "Oh, your¡­ your little girlfriend..." "Mmmhmm." Greg gave a slow nod, dutifully pretending not to notice the deepening sour expression on his mother''s face as he turned to glance at a few of the other people in the waiting room. He could almost feel the beginning of a familiar headache building up in the back of his skull, his mom''s dismissive attitude toward Emma definitely not helping it. His eyes flickered from person to person for a few seconds, Greg''s headache almost seeming to build the longer he did so. The blond paused, attention caught by something odd enough to pique his interest. A rather old Chinese woman in bulky clothes sitting near the main entrance doors stared back at him, blinking slowly with milky eyes. Greg held her gaze for a few seconds before finally turning back to face his mother, the headache dulling enough for him to focus. "Her name''s Emma, Mom. I''ve mentioned that a couple times¡­ but, yeah¡­ I just want to know." There was another silent moment between them, the hurried and chaotic sounds of the emergency room around them not doing much to ease the tension. "... She''s not critical," Susan finally offered after several long moments. Greg let out a breath, a relieved smile bursting across his face. It was small, admittedly, but it was undeniable compared to the morose expression he had been wearing. "Really?" "Yes. That doesn''t exactly say a lot, though," she continued with a slight frown, hands falling loose at her sides. "I shouldn''t even be telling you this but¡­" His mother sighed again, the sound coming from deep inside her as her body seemed to slump with the sound. "From what we know already, she has a break in her leg and in at least two other places, a few cuts ¡ª pretty deep ones, too ¡ª and some heavy bruising on her legs and chest. Worst case scenario, she''s also bleeding internally but we can''t exactly be sure yet..." The smile on the blond boy''s face faded slightly. "On top of all that, she''s still unresponsive." His mother shook her head with a sigh, raising one hand to cup her mouth. "We need to run some tests to be sure of anything else, so for now¡­" "That''s all you know." Susan sighed again, the frustration visible in her face seemingly melting away the longer she stared at her son. "I''m sorry, sweetie, but yes, that''s all we know right now." Greg felt his own expression drooping, his smile falling away at his mother''s words. Before a response to her words could even come to mind, the boy had to blink as his mother leaned in even closer, the border of personal space long having been broken as her nose nearly touched his. "None of that." "None of¡­" He blinked, not even bothering to hide the confusion that he felt. "Of¡­ what?" "I know that look, Greg." Susan leaned back, her hands returning back to her sides to make the traditional "Super-Mom" pose and shot her son a knowing glance, the effect only slightly ruined by her frazzled hair and general air of tiredness. "You''re about to mope. I can tell you from experience that letting yourself wallow is not going to help anything. That gir-" Susan stopped herself from continuing, a palm rising to rub at her eyes for a few moments before she reopened them with a sigh. "Emma''s... condition is stable and as far as I can tell, that''s not going to change. She''s gonna be okay. Just¡­" Susan shook her head again, seemingly lost for words for a second. "Just be happy for that, okay? Can you do that for me, sweetie?" "I¡­ I¡­" Greg sighed and shook his head, fighting a slight shudder as his headache seemed to intensify for a moment before dulling back to a seemingly ever-present pulse. The blond his gaze to fix his mother with a smile as bright as he could manage at the moment, still fighting through the annoying sensation. "I think I can do that, mom." "Good," Susan''s face lit up slightly, her own smile only slightly less strained than the one on Greg''s face. "That''s¡­ good." After a moment, her gaze flicked back to him, roaming over his grime-encrusted body. His mom raised her arm, fingers outstretched as if to touch his shoulder. The thought crossed Greg''s mind to lean away, to pull back from his mother''s touch simply so she wouldn''t stain her fingers with the grime that coated nearly every inch of him. Greg didn''t have to do anything of the sort, though, as she pulled back of her own volition, her expression shifting towards an odd sort of playful exasperation that Greg hadn''t seen in his own mom for a while as she stared down at her son. "You know¡­ I haven''t seen you this filthy since you were a toddler¡­" Her lips quivered as she fought off what was clearly a smile struggling to find its place on her face. "You used to love rolling in grass for no reason. Not the slide or the see-saw or the swings¡­ Every single time I took you to the park, it was almost always the grass you ran straight to. I tried to stop you so many times but the second I took my eyes off you, you ran right back to that grass like it was catnip. You always came back to me, though, waddling with grubby little hands full of grass and dirt¡­" She pursed her lips, the smile on her lips letting itself out for a single moment as she let out a shaky laugh, turning her head away from Greg as her hand rose to dab at her eyes. "...and bugs. You loved bugs. Ants were your favorite, you know." "Mom?" "You liked the way they smelled, I think." With that, she turned watery eyes to stare at Greg. "God, you have no idea how much I miss that." Huh¡­ Greg blinked, not really understanding what his mom was getting at. Okaaay. "Ughhh, enough about that. Enough about me," Susan let out another sigh, raising the back of her hand to her face "You need to get clean¡­ You need a shower. Something to wear too." Greg raised an eyebrow, his mom''s words actually striking a note with him. "Wait, you guys have a shower in here?" "Of course we do," his mom replied, the words coming out with an odd-sounding one-note chuckle as she moved a strand of hair out of her face, "...for patients. You''re not exactly on that list right now because" ¡ª the odd laugh returned for another moment ¡ª "... you''re just fine, apparently." Greg fidgeted uncomfortably against the wall, again wondering where his mom was going with this. "Sooooo?" "No, that''s not gonna work." Susan let out a low sigh, locking gazes with her son once more and allowing Greg to see the growing bags under his mother''s eyes as she stared into his. "You''re gonna have to head home and clean up." Head home? "Head home?" Greg echoed, blinking in confusion. "How? The city''s still being bombed, Mom." He tilted his head to the side, still lost as to where his mom was coming from with this. "I''m pretty sure the buses aren''t running right now and I''m like a hundred percent sure the taxis aren''t." "Still?" Susan raised an eyebrow as she shot Greg an inquisitive look. "No, all that craziness stopped about an hour ago. The bombings only lasted a few minutes, really." "A few minutes?" Greg could hardly believe it. "A few minutes?" "That''s what they said on TV," his mother replied back far too calmly. "We didn''t even know anything was happening over here until people started flooding into the emergency room and the news started reporting on it. I''m pretty sure anyone not watching TV right now outside of Downtown barely even knows something happened. To be honest, no one even knows who''s doing all this." What? Greg leaned back against the wall, blinking rapidly as he tried to reconcile this information with what he had been through. "But everything was shaking.. It¡­ I thought the whole city could feel it." "I don''t know what to tell you, sweetie¡­" Susan said with a shrug, offering her son a reassuring glance as he stared back in shock. "From what the news said, the blasts mostly stuck to a single part of Downtown, really. At most a few blocks here and there. They think it could be a new villain or something." "Huh." Greg could only reply with dull surprise, finding it hard to believe that the hellzone he had made it through had been limited to "just a few blocks here and there". All this worry over the state of the city and he had just been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. Huh. "Anyway," his mother continued, speaking slightly faster as she glanced from side to side, eyes surveying the packed waiting room once more, "there''s shuttles outside dropping people off at parts of Town. Take the one headed by the Docks and just bunker down at home, okay? Can you do that for me, please?" Greg blinked again, getting his head together as he fought back the beginning of another tingling headache. "Uhhh¡­ yeah, yeah¡­ I think I can do that." The teen glanced down at the double doors where he had watched Emma get wheeled through, allowing himself to realize something as his thoughts drifted to her. Reaching into his trouser pocket, Greg quietly muttered the word "Inventory". With that, he quickly pulled out a pink device from the virtually endless holding space he had at his disposal and held the phone out to his mom. "C-c¡­ Could you give this to Emma? I mean¡­" He shook his head again, the tingle in his head shifting to a full-blown throbbing sensation for a moment. "I mean, could you put this in her room¡­ or on her hospital bed¡­ or wherever you can leave it for her, I guess? And, uh¡­ If she wakes up, could you call me?" She took the phone from his hand carefully, not even flinching as the grime on Greg''s fingers left a stain on hers. "I will. Don''t worry about it." "Thanks, Mom." The young man moved forward, stepping around his mom carefully as he glanced over at the door. "Uhh¡­ I''d hug you but uh¡­" "I know¡­ you''re filthy." His mom shook her head, the slightest of smiles on her face. "It''s okay. I''ll see you when I get home." Greg nodded, turning around again. The boy took a few steps forward, only to pause and glance back. "Mom¡­" The older blonde glanced up from the pink phone in her hands to stare back at her son smiling at her, the first real and natural smile she had seen on him in the last few days. "Thanks. Y''know¡­ for everything." His face lit up, smile finally reaching all the way up to his eyes as he looked right into hers. "You''re the best mom anyone could ask for and¡­ I know I don''t say it enough but¡­ thank you." And just like that, Greg turned and walked off towards the automatic entrance doors, making his way past dozens of people patiently waiting for their turn to receive treatment. "Greg!" The boy in question halted his forward movement, blinking slowly as he turned back around to face his mom, the woman stepping quickly to catch up with him. "Uh¡­ yeah, Mom?" "I¡­" Susan bowed her head as she came to a stop, one hand fidgeting with the hem of her scrub top while the other hung loose at her side. "I¡­ I just want you to know¡­" What''s going on now? Greg could only wonder to himself, a single eyebrow raised in both expectation and confusion. He ignored the looks from several people waiting in line to get to the ER''s front desk, too focused on what was in front of him to even care that he was only a few remaining strands of cloth away from being half-naked. "Mom, are you oka-" "I''m fine," she responded quickly, no real heat in her voice as she forcefully dismissed Greg''s question. "It''s just¡­" She stopped again, head still bowed. "Okay¡­" Letting out a low shaky breath, the blonde woman raised her head and Greg spotted the slightest of tears at the sides of her eyes, fighting to fall as his mother stared at him. "I just wanted to let you know that I''m¡­ I''m sorry." Greg opened his mouth, eyes wide as he realized what his mom was trying to do. "Mom, you don''t need t-" "Greg... please¡­ Just let me." She somehow managed to sound annoyed and apologetic at the same time, Greg shutting his mouth with a sharp click that would have been audible if not for the people around them drowning out all other noise with their ambient din. He watched his mother exhale another shaky breath before she opened her mouth again. "I said a lot of things that I shouldn''t have said a few days ago, things that were my problem. You never needed to hear them and I made them your fault when¡­ when they weren''t and they never have been." She glanced back at Greg, her expression softening as she looked at him closely. "I know that I have a problem when it comes to letting things go and you must feel frustrated because it feels¡­ it feels like I smother you a bit. I''m sorry, okay¡­ It''s just¡­" Susan chuckled slightly, the sound not coming out with any sense of mirth. "You may not understand but sweetie, you''re¡­ you''re all I have left." Oh. "And¡­ and sometimes, I''m worried that if I don''t hold on, you''ll just be gone or get hurt or¡­ run away and you have no idea how much I worry about something like that." She laughed that humorless laugh again, lips pursing as she tamped down on it. "It''s literally my worst nightmare¡­ but you''re growing up and I get that." "Mom¡­" Greg replied with all the depth and eloquence expected of him, staring right as his mother with a complicated expression. I¡­ I didn''t think she was gonna say sorry. Do I say sorry back or do I say something else? I thought we were just gonna act like this never happened. Maybe if I just tell her I have Asperger''s, I won''t have to say anything else. "I never should have compared you to your father. You''re not him. You''ll never be him and that''s a great thing. You''re my little boy and I would never want you to feel like I don''t love you." Susan raised a hand, as if reaching out to touch Greg before thinking better of it. "So, I''m sorry¡­ for everything. Understand?" Hngggh. Of course, Greg. You had to go and imply your own mom doesn''t love you because that''s not a dick move, right? Jesus, is it possible for me to feel any guiltier right now? Blinking as his thoughts passed by in a rush, Greg nodded slowly at his mom, his eyes shifting from side to side as he tried to get his thoughts together. "Mom, you didn''t need to say all that. I should be the one apolo-" His attempt to rebuff his mother''s words were met with a level stare from the women herself, Greg quickly closing his mouth. "Okay, okay, fine¡­ yeesh. I''m not gonna apologize, then." "Good," his mom replied with an even tone. "You have nothing to apologize for." Oh, look at that. Looks like it is possible. Suppressing a mental groan at both his rising guilt and throbbing headache, Greg raised a hand to cradle his forehead. "I¡­ Mom, look¡­ I''m¡­ I''m me¡­ I''m your son, Mom. I''m never gonna stop being¡­ that, you know." His hand fell back to his side, Greg staring directly into his mom''s face as he continued speaking. "I mean, like, eventually, I''m gonna move out and stuff but¡­ it''s not like I''m gonna leave the city or anything so, I''ll always be close by, right? And even then¡­ I''m still gonna need help and like life tips, and for you to teach me what taxes and mortgages and insurance is all about¡­ someone to help me do laundry and I dunno... you have a Costco card. I don''t know how to get one of those. I don''t even know where Costco is..." "Greg¡­ sweetie, I''m not s-" "I know," The teen raised his hands up to his face, groaning slightly. "I know, I''m rambling but seriously, you always packed the best lunches. I know I told you to stop making them for me but I was being stupid ''cause they were awesome¡­. and you always put a Fruit Roll-Up in there." Susan tilted her head, eyebrows raised as her mouth opened in a slight, "O". "Every lunch, a Fruit Roll-Up. Always my favorite too which is like crazy, cause I''m pretty sure I never told you which one was my favorite. You could just tell stuff like that. That''s like top-tier Mom stuff. Like, seriously, Mom, you''re awesome. And¡­ and no matter what, I''ll always need you cause you''re, like, my awesome mom...okay?" CHA + 1 Susan Veder simply stared at her son for a long moment, lips pursed in a tight line before she gave a slow shake of her head and a laugh spilled out. "...Thank you, sweetie. It''s good to know that I''ll always be needed for fruit roll-ups." "Ughhh, Mom¡­ I didn''t mean it like that." "I''m not sure I want to know how you meant it." Susan laughed behind her hand, her eyes alight with mirth as Greg''s shoulders slumped. "Just go already, Greg. I have to get back to the ICU and I don''t want you to miss that shuttle." Greg nodded at his mom one last time and turned around, taking several quick steps as he hurried towards the automatic doors. Several waiting patients leaned away as he walked down the aisle of chairs, none of them seeming eager to come into contact with him. Not even paying attention to them, Greg continued forward as the hospital entrance opened in front of him, the boy taking the brisk New England air to his mostly bare chest with nothing more than a slight grimace Well, it''s not like I didn''t know it was gonna be kinda cold. With a shrug, Greg took a step forward only to pause, eyes widening slightly. The blonde took a few steps back, frowning in slight confusion as a short, stout figure moved past him, moving quickly enough that they nearly ran into him. He would have described it as fast enough to be a jogging pace if the person hadn''t been moving so oddly, each step an ungainly, staggering gait. Who- Before he could even finish the question in his own head, the person glanced back at him and Greg found himself making eye contact with the same elderly Chinese lady from before, wrapped in a voluminous winter jacket, her milky eyes staring back at him. Without so much as a second look back, the old woman continued her waddle, moving into the next place in line to ask questions at the receptionist desk. Is¡­ is she wearing a fur coat? In fucking Spring? The blond blinked as his headache suddenly returned in full force, a slight groan leaving his lips as he felt himself shudder from the cold air still entering the hospital. Whatever. He shook his head and glanced back, wondering what the weird woman had to be so rude for when he caught sight of his mom still standing at the same place looking back at him. She raised her hand and waved at him, a smile on her face and Greg returned it, waving back for a few seconds before heading out into through the automatic doors once again. Stepping outside, Greg wasn''t sure what he expected to see¡­ Well, other than a group of buses with a crowd of people waiting to board, at least. What he hadn''t expected was the police cars that surrounded the buses themselves, along with officers in Kevlar vests flanked by PRT officers in heavy armor and mirrored visors hiding their faces. In the center of all of this, standing at the very edge of the hospital courtyard, was someone that stood out from everyone else here, someone he definitely hadn''t expected. Standing there with arms spread out out and lacking neither the haggard look of the people waiting to be boarded on to the shuttles or the rigid uniformity of the officers on either side of him was a cape. A golden lion head, vibrant and imposing, in the shape of a helmet framed a strong face. While the eyes were hidden by an opaque visor jutting from the lion''s maw itself, the smile below all that warm and charismatic enough to detract slightly from the imposing nature of the helm. Lions were a repeating theme for the cape, appearing on his shoulder pads and jutting out from his thick golden belt. Segmented and skintight body armor along with a golden set of greaves and gauntlets, claws in a form reminiscent of lion''s claws, served to complete the heroic look, leaving you without a doubt where this figure stood. Triumph. Huh. Made sense they''d send him down here, I guess. Greg knew of the cape, the man himself having been on the Wards for a bit before moving on to the Protectorate as everyone expected he would. His powers were impressive enough, some mild super strength with the durability to match and sound manipulation destructively powerful enough for Greg to give him an estimated Blaster rating of 7. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Still, more than just being a powerhouse, Triumph looked the part of a hero and it showed. The crowd''s commotion was audibly oppressive as they waited to be boarded onto the shuttles, the noise from the people fighting the the rumbling engines of each white bus as they idled at the end of the street. Even as the people lined up in front of their chosen shuttles, each person''s focus seemed to be centered on the lion-helmed cape in the center of them all. He stood directly in front of the shuttle, right below the words ''Downtown Coast East'', seemingly sharing words with several worried-looking people. Despite being much too far away to actually hear anything, Greg had no doubt that the cape was trying to reassure them as best he could. More than anything, Triumph was doing a good job at it. Like most of the Protectorate, Triumph had a certain air to him that attracted attention in a way that went past the costume alone, something that Greg found himself struggling to really describe. Whatever it was, it was enough to make people look at him as important, or listen when he spoke. It was this same air that Greg had marveled at when he was younger, long before he found himself face to face with capes in his own right. After you get fingered by Lung, a guy dressed up as the cowardly lion isn''t all that impressive, i guess. Still, as much as Greg joked about it, he could still feel that same sense of presence as he looked over at Triumph. Something about him just drew your attention, making you pay attention to the guy. Maybe it''s his posture. Greg tilted his head to the side, giving the gladiator-themed cape a once-over as he neared the end of the hospital courtyard.. Yeah, that guy has really good posture. Really heroic stance too. Wonder if he practices that. A tired smirk pulled at the side of Greg''s lips at the thought of Triumph standing in front of a mirror in nothing but a pair of lion-themed boxers while practicing heroic poses. Another thought crossed his mind a moment later, wiping his smirk away and pulling his mouth down into a thoughtful frown. A Protectorate cape standing right in front of me. Huh¡­ when else am I gonna have the chance, right? The smirk returned, slightly more visible than before as Greg opened his mouth. "Observe."
Triumph Lvl 35 Roaring Lion HP: 725/725 A respected member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and a great singer on his own merits, Triumph was assigned here to reassure the public and provide protection to Brockton Central Hospital in the wake of the recent ABB terror attack. Spends a lot of time watching baseball or wishing he was playing the game.
Greg froze, eyes widening slightly as he finished reading the information his skill had just placed in front of him, a look of shock on his face. The ABB did this? He felt his mouth open slightly, words failing him as he tried to comprehend what he just learned. But¡­ but why? How could they ev-
Observe Lvl Up! 10¡ú11
His thoughts halted as Greg''s hands flew to his forehead, the blond fighting a wince as his headache spiked in intensity for no reason. The blond let out a low shudder as the sensation began to ebb away, Greg wincing all the while and internally cursing the fact that he didn''t get something like Headache Resistance. Shaking his head, the boy''s attention returned to the Azn Bad Boys and why ¡ª and how ¡ª they could have possibly pulled off something like those bombings. I mean, I guess they have Oni Lee¡­Greg found himself musing as he kneaded his forehead with both hands, but¡­ if it was Oni Lee, the news would mention something like that, right? People seeing a teleporting ninja in a demon mask right before a huge explosion would definitely make th- The blond froze once more, another shudder rolling down his spine yet again, his headache spiking ever so slightly. Blue eyes widened further as he felt his heartbeat pound in his chest like a drum. Oh¡­ That shudder¡­ the headache¡­ Oh. [Danger Sense.] Fucking Danger Sense. Oh fuck. I didn''t realize¡­ the headaches¡­. Shit! Goddammit! His eyes darted from side to side rapidly, pupils dilated as a wave of worried fear hit him. Not again¡­ Without warning, Greg''s phone blared to life in his left pocket, violently shocking the blond out of his own thoughts and drawing the stares of several in the short line in front of him. He winced, surprise from the sudden ringing and vibration in his pocket nearly making him jump out of his own skin. I don''t have time for this right now. The blond continued to stare around him, fists clenched tightly at his side as he wondered what was about to happen now. The last time his Danger Sense had made itself known so obviously was right before a building collapsed on top of him and even then, it had never been so violent or painful as this repeated streak of migraines had been. Okay, okay¡­ let''s think about this carefully. We have armed police, PRT and a Protectorate hero here, Greg rationalized to himself, glancing at each of them in turn. Anything that happens can be handled, right? Everything''s safe. Everything is s¡ª Goddammit! Greg nearly let the curse slip from his lips as his phone blared again, the loud ringtone repeated itself with a new set of annoyingly shrill beeps. Not right now! Angrily jerking the phone from his trouser pocket, the blond found himself blinking, anger melting away as he stared at the caller ID on the screen. Mom? An exasperated sigh spilled from his lips as he continued blinking at the smartphone itself, wondering why his mom would be calling now of all times. A niggling voice at the back of his head told him to ignore the call but Greg pushed that thought to the side and swiped the screen to accept the call. Putting the phone to his ear, Greg did his best to make his voice upbeat as he spoke four simple words. "Hey, Mom. What''s u-" At least he tried to. Before the last syllable could escape him in full, the blond lurched as another violent shudder wracked his body. He recovered a moment later, hearing his mom''s voice on the other side of the phone as she spoke to him. Strangely, everything she said seemed distant, Greg barely able to make out any words as the world seemed to slow down around him. Without so much as a thought, Greg''s head snapped back to face the hospital he had just left, the blond''s eyes widening as he realized something else. No. As his eyes locked onto the door, he felt his head beginning to pulse with what felt like the beginnings of another headache. No. Greg spun, kicking off the ground with a superhuman display of speed. No. His already ruined shoes flew off after the first step he took, soles falling apart as his feet blurred. A grimace crossed his face as the pain in his head intensified like a sunburst. He ignored it, pushing it into the depths of his mind as he forced himself to move through the long path of the hospital courtyard as fast as he could. No. No. No. No. Several meters away from the automatic doors, the blond''s eyes widened as he spotted an old Asian woman standing amidst a crowd of shocked patients look up with a teary face. Her hands jerked open her fur coat and Greg''s heart sunk in his chest, the sight of wires and a digital clock strapped to her chest sending an entirely unrelated set of chills down his spine. No! At that same exact moment, the blond heard the sound of a shrill scream among many others echoing from both the phone in his hand and the building just out of his reach. A vibrant corona of gold light with a slightly reddish tint to it surrounded his body and vanished in the same instant as Greg rocketed forward with an uncontrolled burst of speed. -40
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 17¡ú18
Wha- The blond stumbled to the ground in an uncontrolled heap, a groan spilling from his lips as a series of stabbing pains surged through his legs all at once. His face hit the ground just inches away from the automatic door itself, unable to move as the nerves in his lower body screamed at him to stop, figuratively lighting themselves on fire. What? NO! Greg Veder glanced up, surging to his feet despite the agony, eyes locking on to a terrifying sight. 00:00 "Mo-!" The word died on his lips, choked to nothing as the world was consumed in a wave of light, force and the sound of shattered glass. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 12510/32000
Health ???/1457
Mana 480/480
Willpower 460/488
STR 64 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 83 INT 50
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 23 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 23
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $18,568.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 (XP: 35%) Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 (XP: 65%) Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 11 (XP: 25%) A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 (XP: 15%) A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 18 (XP: 60%) A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (110%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (675%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 9 (XP: 35%) You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 10 (XP: 5%) Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 (XP: 75%) Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 (XP: 35%) Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 (XP: 15%) Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 (XP: 85%) Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 (XP: 5%) The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 (XP: 15%) I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 (XP: 4%) Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 (XP: 25%) Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 (XP: 15%) First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 (XP: 55%) Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 (XP: 5%) Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 (XP: 35%) Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 8 (XP: 15%) Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 (32%) Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 12 (XP: 10%) Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 8 (XP: 60%) To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 (XP: 15%) DODGE! Increases innate perception speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 56 (XP: 25%) Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (42%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 (XP: 80%) The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 (XP: 25%) Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 (XP: 75%) "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 21 (XP: 50%) The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 (XP: 15%) I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 (XP: 90%) The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6.75%) Seduction Lv 1 (XP: 5%) I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 (XP: 30%) Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 (XP: 20%) Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 (XP: 15%) Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 (XP: 10%) "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 (XP: 75%) Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Mob 5.6 Mob 5.6 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 17, 2011 3:28 PM It was an explosion on a scale unlike any Brockton Bay had ever seen before. Not for its sheer destructive power, of course. With no actual combustible or thermic component to it, the bomb was never going to topple buildings or scar a landscape. No, this bomb traded raw destruction for sheer carnage. If the creator were to describe it to you, there would likely have been mention of the dual components to it; particularly of how the first part transmuted its surroundings to glass itself and the second was a powerful and focused shockwave with enough blast pressure to break bones, smash concrete and send people - or rather, shrapnel - flying at high speeds with ease. Working in tandem, the simultaneous activation of both was meant to brutally kill, mutilate and demoralize as many as possible. Granted, if the creator of this particular bomb was describing how it functioned to you, odds were you were acting as a test subject for it and you likely wouldn''t be in a state to tell anyone else how it functioned. Needless to say, it served its purpose well. -562 -228 -77 A single body ragdolled through the air from its origin point directly in front of the hospital''s open doors, hurtling over the heads of the gathered crowd as glass shrapnel flew with speed akin to bullets alongside and around it. As screams filled the air, it simply tumbled head over heels without any sense of control as if violently struck by the Hand of God. It landed with a painful crunch directly on top of a small sedan nestled away in the corner of Brockton Central''s parking lot, utterly crushing the roof and shattering the glass of the windshield with the impact. -212 -129 -52
Status Effect: Shattered Leg - 4 Hours Status Effect: Broken Knee - 2 Hours Status Effect: Shattered Ribs - 5 Hours Status Effect: Broken Arms - 2 Hours Status Effect: Broken Fingers - 2 Hours Status Effect: Punctured Lung - 3 Hours Status Effect: Severe Concussion (Cracked Skull) - 3 Hours
The alarm didn''t even bother to go off, strangely enough, despite the sheer level of damage done to it in the span of a second by a boy weighing a fraction of its weight. Even then, it was one of many cars and would have been lost in the cacophony as so many others blared at full volume.
Status Effect: Deafness (Perforated Eardrums) - 2 Hours
Blood dripped from burst and bleeding eyeballs as the body sank into the indentation the crash had formed for it, an open mouth with shattered teeth releasing nothing but silent wheezes and bubbling gurgles. -17 -22
Status Effect: Blindness (Ruptured Eyeballs) - 9 Hours Status Effect: Severe Bleeding - 3 Hours Status Effect: Flayed Skin - 3 Hours
"...nggggh."
Status Effect: Mute (Torn Throat) - 4 Hours Status Effect: Anosmia (Broken Nose) - 3 Hours
More gurgles sounded, bloody shards of glass embedded in a torn throat freeing him from screaming himself ragged. For a few minutes more, his broken form twitched madly, the action only serving to drive more shards of glass into his body from all sides. -21 -19 -25 -16 -11 -6 -4 -2 -1 -3 -1 -2 -1
Status Effect: Death by A Thousand Cuts - 5 Hours
His body twitched a few times, one side bleeding in spurts from a long sliver of metal jutting from his upper torso. With a shuddering gurgle, Greg Veder''s body stilled as he lay unnoticed and unseen all the while Brockton Bay descended into utter chaos. 3:38 PM "..." 3:48 PM "..." 3:58 PM "..." "..." "...ngghh..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Veder woke up to a world of pain. No sight. No sound. Just pain, pain and ¡ª unbelievably ¡ª even more pain. If he could make any real sound, the only things that would have left his mouth were unending screams. Screams of sheer agony at the top of his lungs. Screams of the sort that would leave the inside of anyone''s throat raw and bloody for days to come. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. As it was, Greg''s throat was already raw with plenty of blood to show for it as jagged shards of glass remained where they were, using the boy''s windpipe as a pincushion. Any attempt to scream only shook the shards that were still in place, causing him even more torture. All in all, what little suffering that would cause was just a drop in the bucket and as expected, what little remained of Greg''s neck continued to tremble as he did his best to scream his open throat bloodier. "...ngghh¡­" It was amazing, really, even with vocal chords lacerated by glass, just how much suffering a person could convey with just the slightest of groans. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 4:28 PM A third of an hour. Twelve hundred seconds. Not that Greg was keeping count or in any way aware of how long it took, but it still took twenty minutes for the blond to calm down even the smallest bit. While on the outside, he was barely making enough noise to be audible, it had to be noted that Greg''s thoughts had been filled with nothing but the sounds of his own screaming voice from the moment he woke up. Twenty minutes of non-stop screaming later, Greg Veder was once again cognizant enough to address his situation. And address it he did. Pain. Really, that was an improvement. Honestly, it was. The fact that actual thoughts ¡ª however simple they happened to be ¡ª were now part of his thought process was definitely a sign of progress. Although, it wasn''t so much of a thought as it was a simple idea, the concept of pain itself that he found occupying his mind more than the pain he felt all over. The pain itself was all he could process, the sensations themselves serving to block out any coherent thought before it could even be formed. It was an odd state of consciousness that the boy inhabited, at this very moment, that rendered him both conscious of his pain on such a detailed level while, at the same time, unable to process anything else. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C It is said that pain is part of the human condition; every day is lived in various states of discomfort. As true as this was, most people rarely and truly became acquainted with pain. At least, not long enough to become familiar with it. Real pain, the type that could only be described as excruciating, wasn''t something people tended to deal with for an extended period of time. Painkillers and various medicines had long been made available to dull the worst of pains people went through on a daily basis. Even without all that, the type of pain that drove every other thought out of your mind wasn''t something that lasted very long anyway. Excruciating pain of that sort was often all it took to send people into shock, their bodies diving blissfully into unconsciousness in a matter of seconds, all in order to prevent their minds from dealing with it. It was considered the body''s saving grace to a dying person, a blessing in disguise. Unfortunately, as altered as Greg''s body was, he no longer had to worry about that sort of blessing. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Veder knew pain. In a way that most people would never understand, and on a level that almost no one else would ever be able to comprehend, he knew it. Deeply. One could almost say that he knew it like the back of his right hand but all Greg currently knew about the back of his right hand was that there were over two dozen small lines of jagged pain taking up space there. Thoughts still too distracted to actually put legitimate focus to what he was feeling in any way that wasn''t profane screaming, it was all Greg could do to simply try and process the sensations all over his body. As best he could, at least. His chest burned, several large chunks of his torso blossoming with an agony that drove spikes into his brain with every single breath he took, only one single part of it almost bad enough to send him into convulsions again. The sides of his abdomen, directly below that, seemed to constrict his midsection, acting like a vise that made his breathing even more labored than it already was. His eyes were no longer there, Greg knew that much, the space they once occupied serving as nothing but empty holes that sent lances of pure agony through his skull. His mouth was much the same, shattered teeth only adding to his suffering. The sensation of warmth and odd wetness that surrounded his body, pooling in certain areas, was unfamiliar to him but wasn''t of much importance right now in Greg''s thoughts. The only reason he gave it any modicum of thought was the simple fact that those certain areas happened to be the same places where the greatest pains seemed to originate. His arms were a patchwork of pain, large chunks of his limbs screaming in torment along the small lines that burned and stung all over, making the larger areas so much worse. Chunks of his skin were just gone, his flesh rubbed raw and flayed completely by whatever he had been hit with. His legs¡­ Even without looking, he knew they were ravaged. One of them didn''t even feel like a leg anymore, almost all sensation vanishing past a certain point to dull nothingness. Greg supposed that he should have been thankful for that much. There was so much that Greg felt. It was too much. All of it¡­ clouding his mind and keeping from thinking. "...ngggh." He¡­ He needed¡­ He needed to focus. Greg''s mind latched on to the word, the two syllables taking up enough space in his brain to drive away the idea of pain for just long enough to allow his mind to go the slightest bit further with that simple thought. He needed a goal. Something to keep him focused. Something to keep him conscious. A spark of thought followed immediately after, cutting through the fog like the beam from a lighthouse. He needed to move.
Quest Created! Just Move Details: Move 1 meter away from your current location. Success: +250 XP Failure: Discovery by PRT
In any other situation, Greg Veder would likely have wondered how he could possibly be reading those words in front of him, what with his eyes being as nonfunctional as they were. As he was now, the thought didn''t even come to mind, the whole of Greg''s attention focused on the goal finally spelled out for him. Move. Utterly focused for the first time in so long, Greg''s mind repeated the single word for all he was worth. Move. Fingers ¡ª those that weren''t broken, at least ¡ª slowly twitched as his hands curled into laughable facsimiles of fists and from his ragged throat came another pained gurgle. "Nngggh." ...Ow. This... this was definitely going to take some time. Mob 5.7 Mob 5.7 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "I''m sorry. It''s just..." "I love you¡­" "Greg¡­ sweetheart¡­" "I love you¡­" "I''m worried that if I don''t hold on, you''ll just¡­ run away¡­" "My worst nightmare¡­" "You''re all I have left." "I''m sorry¡­ for everything¡­" 00:00 "Mo-!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 18, 2011 12:33 AM
VIT + 2
Greg Veder let out a deep gasp as he jerked awake with a start. The boy shook as he scrambled around in confusion, unseeing eyes wide with shock. Breathing heavily, the blond let out another shuddering breath, a coating of sweat lining every inch of his body despite the chill of the air on his bare skin. He sat up where he was, hands scrambling for purchase across the gravel that he could feel under him. Where¡­ am I? His face swung to both sides, tilting his head as the sounds of a multitude of repeating sirens filled his ears like an orchestra of the worst kind. What''s going on? What happened to me?! Greg blinked in clear confusion about to wonder what that could be about, only for another thought to send a heavy shock of panic through him as he realized something else. My¡­ my eyes¡­
[Terror] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Why¡­ He let out another shaky breath, hands rising to his face as he felt his eyelids close, a slowly rising itch beginning to skirt the very edge of pain in his sockets. The odd note of dulled panic in his thoughts only highlighted the absurdity of the situation to him, fear coming out in his mind with a bit of a monotone. Why can''t I see? He opened his mouth to voice that same confusion, only to find himself cut off as he let out a pained retching noise. "Wha-" The boy paused, coughing again as he choked on the words. "Whe-" His body only continued to fight him, rejecting his attempts to put words to his thoughts as the more he tried to speak, the harder it became. What he knew as his own voice came out raspy and hoarse, as if he had spent an inordinate amount gargling the gravel that was currently underfoot. "Wha-" One hand going to his throat, Greg''s body jerked forward as his frame was wracked with a hacking fit, the boy coughing for all his worth. A few seconds of this passed until he was nearly hunched over completely until finally, "...Hrrrrk!" Something thick and bitter spilled from Greg''s mouth, the blond retching even more as the disgusting taste of the gelatinous substance lingered on his tongue. Blood? The smell and taste of it was all too familiar, but the texture was something else entirely and a wholly unwanted surprise for Greg as he retched up everything he could feel clogging his throat. Mouth and nose filled with the disgusting taste and overpowering stench of rusted iron, the boy simply remained where he was, continuing to heave as the congealed substance continued dripping from his mouth. Over and over again, he hacked up chunk after chunk of thick, gelatinous¡­ Blood? What happened to me?! Just like that, it finally stopped and Greg was able to draw breath without the feel of something constricting his throat. Chest still heaving as if he had just run a marathon, the boy began to scramble away from the heap of whatever he had just thrown up, a horrified expression on his face. His bare hands and feet skittered on the gravel, sending the small rocks darting away from him as he kicked and pushed himself back, not stopping for a second until his back met something firm, his head slamming into it an instant later. What? Pale, blind eyes widened as Greg''s hands rose to pat at the surface behind him, confusion clear on his face. A wall? A brick wall, by the feel of it. Another surprise, but a far more welcome one than the blood. He tilted his head, blinking as the feel of the crumbling brick under his hands brought a thought to mind, the blond shaking his head as he began to recall exactly how he had gotten here. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 7 Hours and 50 minutes ago ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 4:38 PM
Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 21¡ú29 Resistance: Slashing Lvl Up! 9¡ú14 Blunt Force Resistance Lvl Up! 56¡ú63
Ten minutes. Ten pointless minutes. Just the thought of it sent a wave of annoyance to the forefront of his mind that was quickly forgotten in the wake of his body''s protests. That was how much time he had wasted uselessly twitching his fingers and toes, all in a pointless attempt to get himself mobile. The pain from the pointless attempt at moving from his position had almost been enough to break his concentration but even still, he held on to what focus that he could muster. The bright blue words were almost seared into his mind by this point. Ten minutes of twitching, struggling and pained groaning had passed by with Greg still deaf and blind to the world, leaving him in basically the same position as when he started. He was ashamed to say that it took him half again as long to even think about using his energy the way he had a week ago, just after fighting Lung and the Undersiders. The first few moments of it had been almost heavenly, at least compared to the hell that was the last forty-five minutes of consciousness. The instant he pulled on the bright yellow energy, Greg felt his heart rate pick up, his breathing becoming much less labored as the broken blond had let out a body-shaking shudder, not of pain but out of sheer relief. It had almost been enough of a shock for him to let go of the energy. Almost. He wasn''t stupid enough to let go of his life-saver over something that small. No longer an oppressive, overbearing force driving him to silent screams, the pain had lessened to a dull, aching throb all over his body. It still hurt, of course, and Greg would be lying if he said it didn''t. On top of his aching chest, throbbing skull, sore jaw, itchy skin, and legs and arms tender to the point of irritation, what little remained of his eyes in their sockets stung like an entire beehive had made their home in them! In retrospect, that was probably all the glass shards, but the point remained. Still, at least now, he only felt like he had been hit by a Mack Truck going ninety down the highway instead of like he had just been shoved into a woodchipper. Compared to the perpetual torture of less than a minute ago, at the very least, he could actually think with a clear head so that was a definite plus. To make the situation even better, he managed to move far more than his fingers and toes, which was¡­ odd. Judging from how limp they were, he could tell that a good chunk of his bones were still broken but even then, moving them wasn''t an impossibility¡­ somehow. Regardless, Greg wasn''t one to punch a gift horse in the throat so he purposely chose not to waste much time questioning the weirdness of his own abilities. Finally able to move his broken form without dissolving into a whimpering mess, Greg Veder took his first step off of the shattered car that had been his resting place for over an hour now, only to plunge directly onto the floor like a sack of potatoes.
-45 -26 -13 -9 -6 -4 -2 -1 -3 -1 -2 -2 -1
The sound of bones cracking and snapping as they moved in ways they were definitely not supposed to hit Greg''s ears, the disgusting cacophony made completely irrelevant in that same instant as the pain he had been dreading returned with a vengeance. Blinding pain seared into his skull, forcing another garbled groan from his throat.
Status Effect: Visible Bone Doubles the remaining healing time for the affected wound.
Unable to hold himself back, Greg Veder once again found himself screaming internally as a bone tore itself free from his forearm and jutted out by his elbow, his raw, bloody and glass-embedded throat continuing to make its usual weak gurgling sound as the mute boy tried his best to vocalize his pain. To his credit, he only continued screaming for only half a minute at most. After that¡­ Well, after that came the vomiting. It took him only five minutes to get back on his feet after that. Four to stop hacking up what remained in his now-emptied stomach and one more for Greg to attempt moving again. Trying to step up onto two feet was almost an impossibility, his mind filling with pained curses every time he tried to balance his weight on a broken leg and another with an upper thigh resembled something closer to a tenderized hamburger than anything else. For nearly a minute, the boy just lay there silently as he tried to think of what to do, never forgetting to keep his flow of will active to dull his body''s reaction to the pain. Can''t stand. Can''t walk. Don''t even know where I''m going cause I''m fucking blind and deaf, Greg groused to himself as his mouth closed in a twisted scowl on the last part, the stinging sensation in his eyes seeming to intensify at that. How am I supposed to do anything if I can''t¡­ Can''t¡­ Greg''s thoughts slowed down as an idea popped into his head, the fingers on his good hand twitching as the boy came to a realization. Can''t even see, huh? Calling mana to his hand, the boy placed his palm down on the ground and said the words in his own head. [Structural Analysis.] The mana he gathered to his palm shot forward as he discharged it, sinking into the ground and sending a vague image of nothing back into Greg''s head. All he could really discern was the few shards of glass in a general radius of six inches around his palm. What the- The scowl on the blond''s face sunk further as he realized that all he got back was something he could already basically figure out for himself. Okay, that didn''t work. Let''s try this a different way. With a slight breath, Greg brought his hand down again ¡ª in a weak fist, this time ¡ª and gathered mana to it as he thought the words. [Structural Analysis.] As he felt it try to leave him in a quick rush, the blond tightened his hold on the mana and pulled back on the flow, his fingers slowly opening up as he let the energy trickle out of his grasp. Unlike before, where it sunk underground in an instant, the mana that left Greg''s hand this time seemed to spread out in a forward arc, trickling over the ground in a small wave of energy that Greg could feel.
INT + 1 Structural Analysis Lvl Up! 10¡ú11
I can¡­ I can see? He tilted his head, frowning slightly at the stiffness in his neck as he did so. I mean, I guess? Kinda. If you can call this seeing. Rather than waste any more time thinking about it, he shook his head slightly, placing his good hand back on the ground. Let''s just do this. With one problem out of the way, Greg decided to charge forward the only way he could think of and began to crawl along the ground, his one working arm assisting him at inching forward across the asphalt. Granted, doing that while lying in a pool of his own throw-up and with so many chunks of glass sticking out from the front of his body was in and of itself a terrible idea.
-1 -2 -2 -1 -1 -1 -1 -2 -1 -1
Nevertheless, he persisted. Even with no idea of where he was going, it didn''t take long for him to complete the quest he had started, his fingers sinking into a mound of dirt as he dragged his body onto what could only be manicured grass.
Quest Success! "Just Move" Completed! Gained 250 XP
Before Greg could even stop to let out a ragged breath, something else popped up in his mind, the boy letting out a groaning gurgle that had nothing to do with pain as he realized what it was.
Quest Created! Just Move II Details: Continuing in the same direction, move 5 meters away from your current location. Success: +500 XP Failure: Discovery by PRT
Son of a... His chin dropped onto the grass, Greg''s mouth twisting into a frustrated frown as he realized that this was probably going to be a chain of missions, each one sending him even further away from where he was now. Son of a bitch. Praying he wouldn''t run out before all this was over, Greg''s body flared slightly brighter with golden light as he began to move again.
VIT + 1 Stamina Lvl Up! 11¡ú12
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 5:23 PM
VIT + 5 Stamina Lvl Up! 12¡ú15
Greg Veder hurt. All over. From the bottom of his feet all the way up to his scalp, every inch of him cried out in pain, figuratively begging him to just stop moving and find a nice hole in the ground to pass out in. He wasn''t gonna lie, either. The idea was extremely appealing and Greg knew that if he had no other choice, he would have gladly let himself fall into blissful unconsciousness. And that in itself was the problem. He had no other choice. At least, no other choice that wouldn''t have him shoved into a PRT van and his identity exposed. Seeing as he was in no rush to have either of those events come to pass, ¡ª the former more than the latter, really ¡ª Greg had quickly done his best to follow the instructions laid out for him in glowing blue lettering. Every time he had completed one of these quests, another one would pop up in a second to replace the last one, reminding him to keep walking in whatever direction it felt like giving him. What was he on now?
Just Move VII Details: Turn left and head 1500 meters away from your current location. Success: +5000 XP Failure: Discovery by PRT
Yeah, that made sense. Each quest only served to multiply the previous one, usually by a factor of five for whatever reason. The quest descriptions had been oddly contradictory as well, annoying Greg as he found himself hobbling repeatedly from point to point simply to keep up. Continue in the same direction, turn right, turn left, double back for one-hundred steps and then make a right and walk two hundred and fifty meters; All of it was enough to make him want to tear his hair out. It really didn''t help that every step was an effort in and of itself. It really hadn''t taken all that long for Greg to try walking again, simply out of a sheer need to move faster. This time, instead of trying to walk like at least part of his lower body didn''t look like it had just been through a meat grinder, he managed to keep himself stable enough to shuffle down the street, his limping gait likely resembling that of a zombie. As it was, with the fact that he was likely leaving a trail of blood behind him with every labored footstep, it was doubtless that he looked like the exact picture of a zombie, slight flaring of golden light on his body aside.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 18¡ú19
He had been forced to rely on Structural Analysis to guide himself around with his eyes still useless in their sockets, making his stumbling gait even more exaggerated. Both his feet had to touch the ground for him to really get a picture of what was within a few meters of him, forcing him to nearly fall over several times before he got the hang of it. To make matters worse, spreading out the skill''s range the way he had to only hurt the detail of his ''sight''. So much of what he could detect around him was just a vague lump projected into his mind, giving off a general idea of the shape and size but not much else. All in all, what he was doing was a far cry from the detail that he had come to know from the skill and definitely less useful than actually being able to see for himself. Apart from the relentless itching in his sockets, though, Greg had almost grown used to the nerve-wracking sensation that his blindness wrought. Having awareness for a few meters all around him somewhat made up for it by being incredibly useful, if hard to get used to. At the very least, he was walking again. Still, for all that it let him cover more ground, getting back on his feet had him struggle with learning how to use the skill from the bottom of his soles, requiring more focus than Greg thought he had to spare.
Awareness: Mana Lvl Up! 8¡ú11 Structural Analysis Lvl Up! 11¡ú12
The boy continued to hobble around, limping through the back streets and abandoned alleys of Brockton Bay as he moved farther away from the hospital with no real idea of where he was going. As random as his pattern of movement was, Greg felt he had to be getting somewhere. By now, he must have been walking for what felt like hours through the city, meaning wherever he was headed to had to be close by now. Any moment now and he would be done finally, able to let himself pass out for real this time. Hopefully, after he removed the last shards of glass still jutting from his skin. The blond worked his jaw, swollen and bleeding tongue moving carefully over the jagged remains of still-growing teeth and empty gums. Any moment now. 5:58 PM
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 19¡ú20 Stamina Lvl Up! 15¡ú17 VIT + 4
Any moment now. Those three words repeated in Greg''s head as he continued to hobble in the direction he had been headed towards for what felt like the last eight hours. His shambling gait didn''t let him cover much distance at any pace that would be considered quick but this was insane. Blood-encrusted fingers twitched as he lurched forward, quickly balancing the movement by throwing his arms back before he could lose his balance due to a lack of focus. Unable to firmly place his weight down on his legs, Greg stumbled forward a few more times, repeating the balancing motion every time with a growing frustration. Interrupting the litany of curses firing off in his mind for a second, the blond decided to check on something before it got too late. Will.
Will: 42/530
Shit. And just like that, the cursing returned again in full force. It was a routine he had gotten familiar with over the time since he had finally pulled himself to his feet. Stumbling around like this only happened when he started to run low on Will, a phenomenon he had caught on to quick after the first time he nearly went sprawling to the floor. Certain movements had gotten easier as certain pains seemed to fade, several of his negative status effects dissipating as the time on them ran out. Greg could only be glad for that but it was still only a drop in the bucket compared to everything else. Even if he wasn''t using more than a fraction of his the energy to keep himself mobile, it had to start getting low eventually. When it came to topping himself up with a little extra juice, he had an inventory filled with enough energy drinks to last him for days, even taking into account how quickly he chugged them. Thankfully, the thing responded just as well to thought as it did to speech, Greg quickly realized. The boy only wished it didn''t take him literally losing the ability to speak to find out that bit of information. He barely managed to hold the bottles he pulled from his inventory to refill his Will, let alone open them. Managing to raise the things to his mouth was less of a challenge but it was annoying to Greg that he even had to consider it one. Granted, it was still a better option than struggling to chew with his mouth and teeth as torn up as they were. Come on, any moment now. He continued forward, still swaying on his feet but managing to stay upright. Any moment now.
Structural Analysis Lvl Up! 12¡ú13
6:32 PM Any. Moment. Now. Agonizing step after agonizing step. Any moment now and he would be done with this goddamn quest.
Just Move VII Details: Turn left and head 1500 meters away from your current location. Success: +5000 XP Failure: Discovery by PRT
Fifteen hundred meters. Seven hundred and fifty meters. Two hundred and fifty meters. Fifty. Twenty-five. Five. One. Greg didn''t need any help adding all of those together and he certainly didn''t need any to get the answer he needed next. Almost two miles. He had been walking¡­ no, stumbling through the oddly empty back streets of the city for however long it''d been and he''d only almost made it two miles. No, it was worse than that, Greg realized. The last quest ¡ª the longest one so far at fifteen hundred meters ¡ª wasn''t even over with yet. Any. Moment. Now. Fingers at his side ¡ª each one still sticky from the last bottle of the sugary sports drink he had shakily poured into his mouth ¡ª clenched into fists as he lurched forward again, one leg only lightly meeting the ground as he forced himself to keep his weight off it lest he do even more damage to it. The further he walked, the more Greg was beginning to feel like all of this was utterly pointless. For all he knew, he could be walking for hours more without ever finishing this stupid qu-
"Just Move VII" Completed! Gained 5000 XP
I''m done? Greg Veder stumbled back in shock at the words that popped into his head before making another cautious retreating motion, his Structural Analysis warning him of an obstacle directly in his path. He waited with bated breath for a few seconds, nervously expecting another set of blue words ordering him to continue on this endless trek any moment now. When none came, Greg allowed himself a deep ¡ª albeit rather shaky ¡ª breath, only wincing slightly at the twinge of pain in his chest. I''m finally done? The boy lurched forward again, throat gurgling quietly as he painfully caught himself on the obstacle in front of him, his palms meeting the distinct rough and grainy texture of a brick wall. Greg let out another breath, this one much less labored, as he turned his back on the wall itself and let himself lean on it, seeking a moment''s respite from his long trek. It lasted roughly that long.
Just Move VIII Details: Make your way to the rooftop of the building in front of you. Success: +7500 XP Failure: Discovery by PRT
If there happened to be words to properly describe how he felt about this situation without profanity, Greg Veder was not aware of any of them.
VIT + 1 Stamina Lvl Up! 17¡ú18
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 6:52 PM
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 20¡ú21 Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 9¡ú11 Stamina Lvl Up! 18¡ú19
Bloody fingers latched on to the edge of the rooftop, gripping the masonry with a level of strength that was wholly artificial. The faded golden glow flickering around the digits could only attest to that. Come¡­ The fingers gripped on even tighter, digging into the brickwork for all they worth as a head of filthy, matted hair made itself visible over the edge as well. That too was then followed by a just as filthy face, one that would have been horrific to look upon if anyone had actually been around to see it. Thankfully, the rooftop was empty. Greg Veder didn''t find himself wondering about any of that, though. The boy''s attention was all too focused on how much his fingers were protesting his current actions, the rest of his body not too far behind in making itself heard. Come on. It was a testament to the boy''s resilience that he was managing this much, really. Although, it could be said that if anyone were to compare his injuries from just a few hours ago to right now, they would conclude that he was in a lot better condition than when he started. The fact that his skin was no longer slick with his own blood was a fairly obvious signifier of that fact. Even more obvious was the fact that a large section of bone along his left arm was firmly back where it belonged; his head no longer pounding like someone had taken a jumbo-sized wrench to it yet a third item to add to a quickly growing list. It was safe to say, though, that none of that meant the boy was in a condition that any reasonable person would term ''good.'' Despite what could be said about his current ''condition'', everything for Greg was still a tapestry of pain and varying levels of discomfort. While a good deal of the pain that he felt was dulled by the golden energy that currently suffused him and he knew very well that even without it, he wouldn''t be in anywhere near the same amount of pain as when he first started on his hands and knees. Still, it didn''t take away from the fact that the reinforcement was not much of a painkiller as it only served to dull the intense pain he was already feeling. It took the edge off, so to speak. That ignored the fact that there was still plenty of edge left. All of this aside, Greg Veder was doing well for someone who should, by all means, be in traction. Very well, if one was to be honest. Almost¡­ As he continued to climb, mana poured off of him in waves, the blue light clashing vividly and distinctly with the gold of his Will as the boy kept every inch of bare skin that he could manage stuck to the wall as he reinforced his broken body to provide him enough strength to make it to the rooftop. It had been like this for about twenty minutes now, Greg using his Surface Adhesion and reinforced body to make his way up the side of the brick building. Doing something like this blind was harrowing enough but what made it even more tense was the fact that his Surface Adhesion skill only lasted him roughly four minutes. Thankfully, Greg had inched his way high enough on the three-story building that he could rest for a short time on the recessed window ledge that he found himself on by the time he got to the second floor, allowing himself enough time for his mana to recover to the point where he felt safe continuing his climb. It was slow going but he was making the best of it even now as he pulled himself upward bit by bit, his hands digging in for greater purchase on the rooftop. It was just as he raised himself up even further, both his shoulders just cresting the rooftop that Greg Veder felt a sudden change, mouth falling open as he felt the last of the golden light flicker and fade from his body. ...No. It struck like a speeding car, unstoppable and unavoidable; Greg''s entire body weakening as a wave of exhaustion and mind-numbing pain dropped into his muscles without warning. As the pain resurfaced in full, Greg couldn''t help but let out a long pain-induced groan, his throat having healed somewhat enough to do that much. Still-healing skin burned as a multitude of small untreated cuts stung under the open air, remaining shards of glass now niggling at Greg as he was acquainted with their presence. How did I¡­ The thought was interrupted as Greg''s right leg twitched against his will, shards of bone in his leg suddenly without any support screaming for his attention. Fuck¡­ Greg let out a raspy breath, weak limbs shuddering as he struggled to hold tight to the roof''s edge. How did I¡­ His chest heaved as he felt the return of a burning tightness around his midsection that he could say without a doubt that he did not miss in the slightest. How did I forget to check¡­ Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!"Nghh-!" He bit back a groan as his body refused to cooperate, his attempt at pushing himself over the edge failing again. ...to check on will? How did it even fall so fast? The questions went unanswered as Greg continued to struggle, the current situation leaving him no time to even consider them. His only saving grace was the fact that his Surface Adhesion skill was still going strong but even that had a time limit that was drawing closer by the second. You can do this¡­ The dizziness and nausea threatening to overwhelm him were even more obstacles, albeit neither being nearly as powerful as the many, many injuries he could now feel in full force. Just hold on. Trying to pull himself up like this was just pointless. As hurt as he was, his body wouldn''t be able to respond the way he wanted without will acting to mediate the situation. Come on. Still, all he needed¡­ Just a few more seconds. The blond grit his teeth as he felt his fingers beginning to slacken, well aware that in just a little more time his Surface Adhesion would do the same. Come on¡­ All he needed¡­
Will: 1/546
All he needed was to wait it out. Burst! The boy''s body flared a pale gold for a heartbeat, a pained grunt leaving his mouth in that same moment as he thrust his hands down on the rooftop with all his strength. Masonry cracked apart from the sheer force of his action and for a single moment, Greg Veder was airborne as he forced himself over the edge in a move that could only be called a bastardized vault. The moment ended as ingloriously as it begun as he quickly fell to the ground face down in a heap of limbs. His face met what could only be the gravel that lined the rooftop, pieces of smoothed rock digging into his face giving him a very good idea of what he had just landed on.
-40 -9 -3
...Ow. An understatement if there ever was one.
"Just Move VIII" Completed! Gained 7500 XP
+ 1 STR Stamina Lvl Up! 19¡ú20 Will: -19/551
Status Effect: Severe Exhaustion - 4 Hours
Severe¡­ A wave of tiredness washed over the prone boy, interrupting his line of thought for a moment. Severe¡­ Severe Exhaustion? What''s th¡­ As quickly as if someone had flipped a switch, what little tension still in his paralyzed form faded as Greg Veder lost himself to a deep sleep, his body forcing him into a long-needed rest.
Perk Gained! Catch Your Breath Endurance is patience concentrated. After forcing yourself to move under extreme circumstances for a long period of time, your willpower recovery rate has doubled. (1 Will per 5 Seconds)
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Now ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C No! The blond surged up, pulling away from the brick wall in front of him in a panic as he quickly rose to his feet. One hand clutched at his skull, quickly followed by the second as unwanted memories of the last day came rushing back to Greg with the force of a river set free from a broken dam, battering the boy with a pain that felt all too physical. No. Memories. Memories of being hurled like a ragdoll. Memories of glass flying everywhere. Into him. Into the sky. Into everything. Everyone. Memories of¡­ Mom. He stumbled forward, the blond physically reeling as he tried to process everything he remembered all at once. Emma. Nononono. Another thought hit him and the blond nearly tripped again, partially from shock as well as lack of sight. This can''t¡­ His back brushed against the wall again, Greg clumsily staggering away from it with all the grace of a drunk with his fingers grasping at his own temples. This can''t be real.
[Grief] negated by Gamer''s M-
No!He pushed aside the sudden calm with a wild anger, hand almost trembling as he thrust it out in front of him into the empty air. No. Greg shook his head angrily, teeth grit to the point of straining as he did so. He wasn''t going to even think about allowing himself to just ignore this¡­ pain. So much of this was wrong already. He couldn''t make it worse by trying to forget that. His thoughts, almost unbidden, went back to what he could recall of the day. ...Emma. Yes, the parts with Emma stood out strongly in his mind''s eye, every single moment after the first bomb event almost crystal clear in his thoughts. There were still so many questions he had about that by itself, but everything was moving so fast before and now¡­ Well, now just wasn''t the right time. His time in the hospital was the next thing to stand out in his recollections, Greg sitting apart from the teeming masses in actual need of help. So much time spent just looking at the TV, not even really watching, just looking on as video and images of the damages from Downtown were broadcast on the local news. And then¡­ Then... Mom. The teen dropped to his knees, nearly hunching over as his chin met his chest. He shook his head, ignoring the feeling of his own dirty and matted hair as it struck him in the face.
[Grief] negated by G-
I said NO! A surge of angry bitterness rose up in his cheat, Greg mentally shoving away the sinister calm he could feel creeping up on his thoughts. So much was wrong here. "...Mom," His voice came out in an awkward croak, Greg still struggling with his newly regrown vocal cords. Fingers tightened again in the gravel, the stones cold to the touch. This is wrong. Greg bit back what could have been a sob if it didn''t sound so angry, the boy wiping his tears with the back of one hand. "This is so¡­ so wr-nnnngghh!" A choked scream burst from his lips as pain lanced through his eyes, the boy blinking rapidly as the unnatural brightness of the streetlight nearest him made itself known. I... Eyes widened as color returned to them, milky-white irises suddenly a bright blue. Greg Veder stumbled again, this time out of raw shock as his vision returned. His gaze dropped to his own body, blood and dirt streaked arms and bare torso browned with much of the same. Stained and tattered trousers appearing far more like shorts and bare feet greeted him as he glanced down. Trails of blood stained the gravel of the roof below his feet, turning white and gray into varying shades of brown and red, from the edge all the way to where he stood intermixed with chunks of something dark in a dark pool of what could only really be what he had thrown up a few minutes ago. A feeling bubbled up in his chest as he looked down at himself, the realization that he was seeing again after so long. Not relief or happiness. A pit of anger blazed in his chest, burning brighter than it ever had before. Fingers clenched themselves into tight fists and Greg turned his head upwards, forcing the wetness in his eyes to retreat. All of this and¡­ Greg bit back the urge to scream as he stared up at the starless night sky, toes twitching slightly as they acclimated to the feeling of cold gravel beneath his bare soles. All of this and¡­ "I''m perfectly fine." His croaking voice hit his ears again as Greg recalled those words. He remembered telling her that when she asked him how he felt not too long ago in the hospital. She had stood in front of him, smiling her worried Mom smile¡­ And I just brushed her off, Greg thought, expression shifting into an angry grimace. I just brushed her off and I told her that... "I''m perfectly fine." He found himself almost spitting, so much raw anger behind the three words that it was almost palpable. Part of him felt like screaming again, screaming and crying and slamming his fist into the wall in front of him until something broke. Until everything broke. The other part was busy thinking, half his mind at work trying to piece together everything he remembered from before¡­ before it happened. The crowd, the cops, the PRT, Triumph¡­ All of those had been in front of him before he turned back towards the hospital, running as fast as he could. He remembered the force, the glass, the sound like a hundred windows shattering at once¡­ Just everything. More than anything else, though, he remembered the one face that looked familiar, if only a little. In that thick, swarming crowd, his mother was impossible to make out but that woman had been right in front of him. Just meters away in the center of a terrified crowd, she had opened her fur coat completely, allowing Greg to see exactly what was under it. The red lights on that panel almost seemed burned into his thoughts, a countdown that he had been too late to stop. Just above that, though, was something else Greg couldn''t remove from his mind. The crying face of an old Asian woman. She didn''t¡­ He blinked again, a smaller thought making itself known through the blinding haze that was his emotions. She didn''t want to do it. That much was obvious to him. It didn''t do a thing to quell the roaring anger he felt but that much was clear to him. Then why¡­ Why... His mind went back to Triumph, something missing in his own thoughts about the lion-helmed hero that he was fighting to remember. I¡­ Greg paused, fists so tight they felt on the cusp of drawing blood. I remember now. He did remember. ¡­ in the wake of the recent ABB terror attack. Observing Triumph had told him everything he needed to know. But nowhere near enough. The blond turned narrowed eyes out onto the mess of a city around him, the sight of smoke trailing from several buildings still visible even in the dark and the sound of multiple sirens his first reintroduction to the place he called home. "I''m perfectly fine."
[Anger] negated by Gamer''s Mind
He nodded again at those words and looked back out over the edge of the rooftop facing away from the hospital, expression visibly shifting in the span of a few seconds. Greg let the void that was Gamer''s Mind subsume him, almost embracing the quiet with open arms as his hands slowly uncurled from white-knuckled fists at his sides He couldn''t afford to let himself fall apart. "I''m perfectly fine." The lie felt numb on his tongue but Greg paid it no mind, pushing it down to the same place his rage simmered. Again, he didn''t have time for that, too busy thinking about what lay in front of him. Bright blue eyes gained a distinct edge to them that no one who knew Greg would ever recognize.
Quest Created! ABB I: Avenge The Fallen Details: Destroy the Azn Bad Boys through any means possible Success: ??? Failure: ???
He had a job to do. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 19 Experience 31510/32000
Health 1597/1597
Mana 485/485
Willpower 555/555
STR 65 SPD 62 (+2)
VIT 97 INT 51
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 23 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 23
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $18,568.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (2/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (3/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 12 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 35 meters. (140 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 4 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 11 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 21 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (155%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (675%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 21 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 8 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 5 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 3 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 8 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 DODGE! Increases innate perception speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 63 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (47%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 29 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (16%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 9 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (7%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 11 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (22%) Stamina Lvl 11 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (55 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Mission Control Cutscene: Mission Control ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Axel "Sparky" Ramon stared at his phone again, amber eyes hovering over the last message from his best friend as he reread it for what felt like the thousandth time. The last communication he had with his best friend was a series of texts from twenty-four hours ago, and with everything that had happened since¡­ Well, he just wasn''t sure what to think about what that could really mean right now. It was really amazing how sometimes ¡ª usually the absolute worst of times ¡ª things you didn''t notice or didn''t even care about came back to bite you hard. Small things that you''d overlooked with the assumption that you''d never end up even thinking about them again just forced their way into the front of situations where they end up being important in a big way. Just some restaurant downtown. Nothing big. That was all Greg had said in the text. Six simple words to close out a text conversation that was dragging on too long anyway. Sparky hadn''t pressed Greg for more information and Greg hadn''t bothered to inundate him with all the details of his planned date with the trophy-wife-in-training the blond called his girlfriend. While Greg was usually the type to dump that sort of information on someone, he hadn''t bothered with Sparky that morning, likely because he knew his friend couldn''t care less about pointless shit like that in the first place. It''s not like he was exactly wrong either, at least not at the time. Sparky hadn''t had any real interest in those details in the first place, and both of them were well aware that he had been asking just to ask, not because he really cared much about where Greg was taking the bimbo to stuff her face. Just some restaurant downtown. Nothing big. Six simple words made overwhelmingly foreboding by everything else that had happened several long hours ago. Sparky sighed, palming his forehead as he let himself lean back, sinking further into the couch. There were dozens of outgoing calls and texts on Sparky''s call history, all of them directed towards Greg''s number. Sparky had made the first when the news of the bombing reached him through nothing more than a simple offhand comment his dad had made. Each attempted call had gone to voicemail after a single ring; Not something that eased Sparky''s worries in the slightest. As a general rule, Greg was one to always pick up his phone when he got a call, considering the only people that ever called him with any regularity were his own mother, Sparky himself, and more recently, Emma. A few dozen calls going straight to voicemail did not sit well with Sparky at all but he didn''t let that make up his mind for him. He couldn''t just accept something like that¡­ not without making sure, at least. Calling Greg''s mother had been a thought that came to him, but that was made pointless by the simple fact that Sparky didn''t even have her number in the first place and he doubted she had his number either. "..." A low sigh left him, Sparky blinking slowly as he felt exhaustion pulling at his eyelids, the artificial lighting of the device in his hand doing its best to keep him awake. The brightness of the screen currently searing Sparky''s unprotected eyes was assisted only by the television he currently sat in front of, the large device continuing its muted broadcast. The sole alternative source of illumination in the dark living room, just meters away, was doing the same thing it had from the moment Sparky had heard of what happened, nothing but broadcasting Brockton''s local news coverage of events from earlier in the day. Sparky glanced up again, gaze not rising high enough to focus on the TV but instead settling on the coffee table in front of him. A glass of water sat there, ice melted completely and the outside beaded with condensation, right next to a small orange pill bottle with his name typed onto the little strip of paper wrapped around it. He shook his head, eyes flicking back up to the TV a moment later. Since a little after three in the afternoon, he hadn''t bothered to really move from his spot, taking up space directly in front of the television wearing nothing but the same baggy long-sleeved shirt and flannel bottoms he had woken up in. Neither of his parents seemed to get why he was so focused on the news coverage, his mom busy with her sculptures and his dad simply treating it as any other Sunday. Safe in the assumption that cape issues never really crossed over into residential areas, at least in the Bay, his parents didn''t even bother paying attention to the news reports. They weren''t exactly alone in that belief either; Sparky knew that several of their neighbors didn''t seem to care about cape stuff as long as it didn''t hurt them. The most interest his father seemed to show was checking to see if his restaurant - not the same one Greg was supposed to have gone to - was the one that got hit and, after that, calling his workers one by one to tell them not to bother coming in tomorrow. Thankfully, they did as they always did and left him to his own devices. Sparky didn''t think he could manage to think up an excuse for why he was so invested in the erratic bombings going on in the city without mentioning Greg. It would have been a lie to say that part of him hadn''t wanted to head out and search for Greg in the rubble of that demolished restaurant, just one of several places in the Downtown area that had been struck in the first wave of explosions. The rest of him knew how horrible of a plan that was, especially with parts of the city being lit up every hour or so with a new wave of explosions. Phone still in the palm of his hand, Sparky let his arm hang down the front of the couch as he fully laid himself down, back of his head resting on a pillow propped up by the armrest. With an unnecessarily loud exhale, he sighed again and raised his other hand to rub his face with an open palm. This entire day had been hell. Twelve hours since that fucking explosion and then another one later at the hospital and no fucking sign of Greg anywhere. He didn''t pick up his phone. He didn''t answer his texts. Sparky had been desperate enough to send him a message on PHO, not that he expected Greg to even see it in the first place. Nothing about today made sense. The news didn''t help Sparky piece together much, what with every local news station he could find repeating the same canned bullshit that screamed to him of a media lockdown. Somebody was trying to keep actual information from getting out and from what PHO had been saying, Sparky could guess what three letters made up their name. It was absolutely insane that he had to turn to a bunch of shitposters on a forum to get actual information on what people were calling the "biggest villain assault on Brockton Bay since the Teeth were still fucking around." Rumors were flying all over the place about each attack, each more confusing than the last. Some were saying that Triumph got turned into a pincushion, others implying that someone that (probably, maybe, kinda sorta) looked like a shorter Manpower was seen escaping from the scene in one of the first waves of bombing, and even more arguing that they saw what without a doubt had to be a zombie near downtown, the thing somehow managing to move with a body more broken than anything they''d ever seen. Sparky refused to think about how much that description fit Greg the last time his friend had nonchalantly returned from a cape fight. Crazy rumors aside, all of them had one common denominator; a mention of the ABB. Sparky wasn''t sure exactly how but he knew those fucks were behind this. The realization had been chilling, the thought made even worse with the knowledge that the ABB already had a reason to hate Greg with Lung being put in lock-up. How they found out his identity was a mystery but even with the off chance they didn''t know who he was, Sparky wouldn''t bet against the ABB being ruthless and crazy enough to just pull shit like this on anyone who happened to fit the description. Especially now that Oni Lee was the boss. Sparky shook his head slowly and turned his gaze up at the ceiling, letting his eyes glaze over as he stared at nothing. A whole twelve hours without a word from Greg and Oni Lee on a bombing spree. The only real outcome was just¡­ too terrifying to think about. He shut his eyes, trying hard to push those thoughts out of his mind. Where are you, G? Bzzzzzt Bzzzzzt Bzzzzzt Drowsy as he was, Sparky couldn''t help but jump slightly as the phone in his hand buzzed, waking him enough to force a few alert blinks out of him. The long-haired boy glanced down at the device, still blinking as he raised the thing to his face. As he brought it up to eye level, the screen went black for a second before jerkily bringing up a caller ID screen. Unknown? His one open eye widened slightly, confused as to exactly who would be calling him from a restricted number. He stared at the screen tiredly for a few moments before shaking his head, denying the call with a single tap on the screen. I can''t deal with robo-call shit right now. With that done, Sparky laid the phone down on the floor and nestled his head deeper into the pillow, turning his head away from the light of the television as it continued to broadcast. A few seconds later, the phone started up again, buzzing on the wood floor to create a sound reminiscent of a power drill. Come on¡­ Teeth gritted, Sparky pushed his head further into the pillow, doing his best to ignore the noise. He didn''t want to risk turning his phone off or putting it on silent for obvious reasons but having to deal with annoyances like spam phone calls was not something he was in the mood for right now. Pretending like the sound didn''t irritate him worked long enough for the call to end, Spark finally maging to relax as it did, only for it to start up again without fail. Fucking... Amber eyes opened as Sparky turned to face the other direction, the television once again introducing a ray of artificial light directly into his unprotected eyes. Wincing, the teen shot a glare down at his cheap smartphone as if it had just insulted his mother. Son of a¡­ With an exasperated sigh, he swung himself up into a sitting position and reached down to grab his phone, scowling as he glanced at that same word on the screen. He stared at it for a long moment, scowl losing the majority of its heat the longer he held the vibrating phone. Before too long, he couldn''t even manage to stay angry anymore, a mix of tiredness and stress sapping away any energy he could have used towards maintaining his annoyance. "Fuck it," he muttered to himself. With a defeated sigh, Sparky tapped the green phone icon to accept the call and opened his mouth, preparing to deliver the most scathing "Hello" that had ever crossed his lips. However, before he could manage that, a voice on the other end spoke first, quickly shocking him into silence. "Hey, Sparks." The teen on the couch blinked, mouth suddenly dry as he heard a voice that he honestly wasn''t expecting. Phone trembling slightly in his hand, Sparky licked his lips as his finger tapped the speaker icon on his phone. "You there, bud?" Holy¡­ A wave of relief washed over him as he heard the voice again, eyes widening as a full day of stress almost seemed to fall away from his shoulders. "...Greg?" He licked dry lips again as he asked the question with a breathless voice struggling not to shake. "Brah, is¡­ is that really you?" "What kind of question is that, Sparks?" Greg replied, tone oddly light. "How many other teenage boys call you up at three in the morning? Should I be jealous?" "Y-you..." Sparky let out a shuddering laugh as he spoke. "You asshole. You would be the one to call me this time of night to crack a stupid-ass joke." He shook his head, dropping his face into an open palm a moment later. "It''s not even funny, man." "I mean, to me it was." "Not the fucking joke," Sparky replied back, lifting his head so as not to muffle his words. He licked his lips again, another relieved laugh escaping him. "You had me thinking you were dead, man." There was silence for a long moment as he waited for Greg to respond to what he just said to him. As the odd silence continued, Sparky decided to break it, unsure exactly what had his friend so silent. "Greg? You there, brah?" "...Uh, yeah. Sorry, uh¡­ Just¡­" Greg paused, letting out a breath of his own before continuing. "Just kinda funny to hear you say that¡­ that''s all." Sparky blinked, unsure of how to take that response. "Oh¡­ o-okay, I''m just glad you''re okay, man. Honest," he nodded along with his words, a smile creeping its way onto his face despite his tiredness. "You had me scared, brah. Twelve hours without picking up your phone once? On a day like today?" Another laugh passed his lips. "I seriously thought you were dead. What''s up with your phone, man?" "It¡­ broke. Yeah, it broke. Had to borrow this one from someone else. They weren''t really using it at the moment," the blond laughed in tandem with his friend, Sparky stopping his own laugh rather quickly as he heard Greg''s. As the sound came through his phone''s tinny speaker, he couldn''t shake the fact that something sounded¡­ off about Greg''s voice, his laughter most particularly. It felt like it was missing¡­ something, something that Sparky couldn''t quite put into words. "Anyway, I''m¡­ Huh," Greg let out an audible sigh, muttering something under his breath that Sparky couldn''t quite catch. "I''m perfectly fine, Sparks. Better than ever, really. This whole day''s been one hell of an eye-opener for me, honest." Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Eye-opener? Sparky blinked, relieved smile slowly inverting at Greg''s confusing words. "Dude¡­ the whole city''s been a minefield all day. People¡­ people died, man." "Preaching to the choir here, man. I get that." Preaching¡­ what? Once again confused by Greg''s odd choice of words, Sparky ran a hand through his hair and shook his head before letting out a sigh. Let me just change the subject. "So, what''s been up with you all day, brah? Kinda had me freaking out when you didn''t pick up." "I was downtown." "Downtown?" Sparky repeated, eyes widening. He leaned forward on the couch again, raising the phone at an angle to his mouth as he continued speaking. "All day? Shit, that''s crazy, man. You had to be ri-" "Right in the middle of the explosions, yeah," Greg interrupted, finishing Sparky''s sentence for him. "One went off right on top of me too." It was amazing how one sentence said in the most flippant way could change the entire tone of a conversation in mere seconds. Amber eyes blinked a few times as Sparky actually pulled his head away from the phone in front of him as if recoiling from it. What? "...What?!" Sparky flinched as he echoed his thoughts far louder than he expected, control of his own voice torn away from him from sheer surprise. His gaze flicked up toward the stairs, listening for any sound of movement from his parents upstairs. When none came, he returned his full focus to the phone in front of his face. "What did you just say?" "I said, one went off right on top of me," Greg continued, tone as nonchalant as ever. "The restaurant off of Rose Park Boulevard. You probably saw it on the news. I know I did." Sparky had, in fact, seen it on the news. Even if he hadn''t seen it before, glancing up right now at the television would have told him everything he needed to know about that explosion. "Okay, are you¡­ Are¡­" Sparky shut his eyes, muttering to himself as he tried to think of anything to say that didn''t have the words, "Are", "You", and "Okay", especially in that order. Just say something. "G¡­" he tried again, hoping this time would actually be different. "Greg..." "Am I okay?" Once again, the words were taken right out of Sparky''s mouth, the long-haired boy letting out another relieved sigh at not having been the one to say it. "Yeah, I''m perfectly fine. Like I said, better than ever. The restaurant bomb barely did anything to me." "That''s¡­ that''s good... " Sparky replied, voice still low. He couldn''t help but be glad about that, despite having the estimated death toll from what the news was calling the ''first wave'' staring him in the face. He was about to quickly change the subject again when something about Greg''s statement clicked in his mind, the on-screen image of the half-collapsed restaurant spurring another question. "G, I know you said that¡­" He paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a low breath, exhaling through his mouth in an attempt to get his thoughts under control. "I know you said that you''re okay but¡­ didn''t you take Emma there on a date?" "I did, yeah." "Okay, that''s¡­ that''s good, brah." The cheer in Greg''s tone helped ease the more pessimistic thought that just a moment ago Sparky felt like he was struggling with. "For a moment, I was actually¡­" He clicked his tongue, letting out a breath with a little bit of nervous laughter slipping out with it. "Okay, this is gonna sound kinda weird¡­ Don''t laugh, but for a second ¡ª like, the tiniest second ¡ª" Sparky cut himself off with another burst of awkward, yet quiet, laughter, unsure why it was taking him so much effort to just ask his friend a simple question. He stood up from the couch, beginning to pace in front of the couch, unsettled by the thoughts rattling around in his own head. "Forget about it, man. It doesn''t even matter anymore. You''re fine, so everything''s¡­ fine." "No, go ahead. Ask me whatever." Sparky pressed his lips together, a slight humming sound escaping him for a moment before he shook his head again. "...Okay, look, I was actually worried about your ginger for a second, but if you''re cool, she has to be okay¡­" For a long moment, there was silence on the other side of the line, Sparky''s smile dipping into a frown as Greg remained uncharacteristically quiet. "...Dude?" "Yeah, yeah... I know, Sparky." Hearing a sigh from Greg, Sparky''s eyebrows furrowed, the other boy deeply confused by the way this conversation was going. "Just... I know, okay." "Greg, wh-" Before he could finish his question, Greg cut in again. "Emma''s dead, Sparky." The candor in Greg''s tone sent the conversation off the rails completely, grinding Sparky''s thoughts to a halt as a consequence. The long-haired boy''s fingers grew slack around his phone as he felt his chest tighten, blood running cold at that morbid announcement. His legs seemed to fall out from under him and a moment later, Sparky found himself on the couch again, eyes blinking incessantly as he tried to process what the voice of his friend on the other end of the phone said to him. "W¡­ what?" "My mom''s gone too," Greg continued speaking with a flippancy that was more than jarring, each new announcement treated with no real substance as they passed his lips. While he no longer sounded as cheerful as he did before, the voice on the other end came off far too calm for the news he just delivered. "But Emma¡­ yeah, odds are good the second blast finished the j-" "Greg!" Sparky''s voice left him in a hiss, shock and confusion taking the place of what would normally be a tone he only used in anger or annoyance. "Your m-mom? Emma? Second blast? Seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?" "The bombs. The¡­ the first one was¡­ uh, d-during my date. Then I got Emma to the hospital. I met my mom there and then, that was when the next bomb hit." Greg let out an audible sigh, the exhale oddly forceful. "Right there." "G¡­" This was¡­ Jesus fuck, this was bad. An understatement, of course, but Sparky couldn''t get his thoughts in any semblance of order right now. "Brah¡­ your mom¡­ Are you s-" Sparky quickly shut that down, well aware that asking Greg if he was sure about his own mother''s passing was just not the right idea. "Look, I-I don''t know what to s-" "Don''t." Greg interrupted yet again, quickly shutting down Sparky''s faltering attempt to console him over the phone. "Seriously, I don''t need you to do any of that. I''m perfectly fine." "Dude, how¡­ You just told me your mom is dead! I¡­ I don''t know how can you just say something like th-" "Sparky..." A hand went through his hair again, Sparky fighting the urge to rip the strands out by their roots out of pure frustration. "What?" "I don''t need to talk and I don''t need to cry. I don''t need any of that, man." Greg repeated again, enunciating each word to his friend in a steady voice. "I''m calm, I''m focused and I''m perfectly fine." Even with everything else running through his mind, Sparky couldn''t help but notice how the little bit of cheer still remaining continued to bleed out of Greg''s tone with each word, shifting his nonchalance into a much more empty sort of indifference. "Okay. I don''t believe you, but okay, What¡­ what do you need from me?" "I just need your help." "My¡­ my help?" Sparky bit back a stress-filled groan, thoughts in a rush from every bomb Greg had just dropped on him and the deeper implications in his friend''s words. His free hand raked through his hair again, fingers digging into his scalp as he let out another breath. "What¡­ Seriously, how the hell am I supposed to help with¡­ with¡­ something like this?" There was silence for a little while, Greg not answering despite the sounds of his breathing still audible through the speakerphone. As it went on, Sparky''s eyes began to widen as it slowly began to dawn on him what Greg''s intentions could be, especially when he considered what had happened not too long ago. "Greg¡­" No answer. "... Dude... please tell me you''re not thinking about getting¡­ getting revenge," Sparky muttered, already worried over what he feared Greg would do. The silence continued to stretch, Greg not even giving him so much as a sigh. "Seriously, G... tell me you''re not gonna do it." After a few seconds more, Sparky sat up on the couch with his knees under him, shaking his head as Greg''s silence stretched on. "Greg¡­ please? Come on, I kinda need an answer here. Otherwise, I might lose my shit." Finally, Sparky heard a sigh, the blond on the other side taking in a breath as he spoke, "Look, Sparky, the ABB need to go down and I-" "No." His response was as firm as the iron grip he currently had on his smartphone, the long-haired boy gritting his teeth. "No. You''re not gonna get yourself killed with this. I know you''re pissed, man. I am too, but¡­ but you can''t just do this." "...Sp-" "Dude!" His voice shifted to a whispered growl, weeks of frustration at his friend given life in one word. Sparky''s gaze darted to the stairs, again worried his sudden outburst might have woken his parents. When he heard nothing but the sound of his dad''s rumbling snores, the long-haired boy continued, albeit in a much lower tone of voice. "No, listen. You''re not gonna do this. Most of the city''s on goddamn lockdown because of these explosions everywhere and you want to talk about wading into this?" Sparky found himself caught up in his own emotion, one hand gesturing wildly in front of him as he continued to unload on the other boy. "You barely won against Lung literally six days ago and you want to take on the rest of the ABB when they''re backed with Tinker shit? What in the actual hell, man?" Greg''s long silence only served to irritate Sparky further, the olive-skinned boy growing more irate by the second as he continued to speak. "I mean, fuck! What the fuck?" Shaking his head, Sparky let out several deep breaths in an attempt to pull himself back. "Do you ever just... I dunno, fuckin'' stop and think, bruh? Like, ''What if I fuckin'' die ''cause of the stupid shit I get myself into?'' Right?" A single hand gestured wildly in front of him, the boy sitting up on the couch as a surge of worry and frustration cleared away the remaining sleep from his eyes. "That ring any bells?" Sparky combed a hand through his hair, shaking his head again, unsure of what else to say as he took in another deep breath. Sighing, he tossed his head back and spoke again, voice much lower this time. "Look, bruh... G, people care about you, man. You know¡­" He licked his lips, unsure of what he was saying but unwilling to stop. "Like, think about how boring shit would be for me if you were gone. Do you¡­ fuck..." Sparky bit his lip, shutting his eyes for a moment as he struggled whether to say what threatened to slip free. After a moment, he shook his head again, his voice nearly cracking as he started to speak again. "D-d¡­ d''you think your mom would want you to just¡­ just throw away your life like that?" Sparky blinked as he heard Greg''s breath hitch on the phone, the other boy letting out a low grunt as if someone physically struck him. "...Greg?" "..." "...You okay, man?" A sinking feeling seemed to be making its way into Sparky''s stomach at Greg''s continued silence, his reaction to Sparky''s mention of his mom somewhat worrying. "... People are dying and you''re asking me dumb questions." Sparky couldn''t fight the wince as Greg replied back, his voice emptier than ever and lacking any sense of real emotion. "Dude, that''s not what I m..." "Then what did you mean?" The question hit Sparky hard. He knew that what he asked wasn''t¡­ wasn''t the best thing he could have said to his friend right now, but he needed to get Greg to listen. He needed him to see this wasn''t the way to go. Still, he regretted it. With a sigh, Sparky answered back, "I just wanted to talk, to understand how you feel right now¡­ Okay, brah? You should be a mess right now and I don''t think it''s okay that you sound real dead right now. I''m sorry, but it''s true." "... How I feel? You wanna know how I feel?" Sparky''s eyes widened at the hint of annoyance he could hear in Greg''s voice, the first hint of real emotion that he could detect in this entire conversation. In a voice barely above a quiet mutter, he replied, "...Yeah, dude." "Okay¡­ I''m angry. Are you happy now?" Greg began, his voice flitting between rising annoyance and placid monotone every other word. "I''m so angry that I want to hit someone until my hand breaks and then just keep hitting them until I don''t know who''s hurt worse. I want to break jaws and legs and arms and spines and every other part of their body and I don''t ever want to stop." I''m angry that my mom''s gone. I''m angry that everything I did to save Emma was pointless. I''m angry that I wasn''t good enough to save anyone. I''m angry that you''re making me say this and I''m angry that I''m angry at you. Most of all, I''m pissed that the ABB is still around and my mom and Emma aren''t." Shit. Sparky held back another wince, already beginning to regret pushing Greg this far. "I''ve never been this angry before and the only thing that''s keeping me calm right now is something that I don''t really understand. So, either you''re gonna help me or keep asking me questions," Greg continued his pattern of cutting Sparky off, shutting down his attempted apology as he returned to the empty voice, even that slight annoyance choked to nothing. "I just want to know why you aren''t angry too." Sparky sat in silence for a few moments, unsure how to respond to all that. He didn''t even know if it was possible to say anything to something like that. Because I''m scared, he couldn''t say. Fucking. Hell. Sparky brought a hand to his face, kneading his forehead for a moment before he could bring himself to say the only thing he could. "Okay." "Okay, what?" Sparky let out another sigh and shut his eyes, glancing up at the small bottle on the coffee table just meters away. He stared at it for a moment that seemed to stretch on for far too long but in the end, the long-haired boy simply shook his head and tapped the speaker icon on his phone as he raised the device to his ear. "Just tell me what you need." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Mob 5.8 Mob 5.8 April 18, 2011 12:23 PM ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C A figure sat atop one of the newer buildings in Brockton Bay''s downtown area, feet dangling over the edge of the rooftop as they kicked the air. Dressed in all black with a splash of red around his neck acting to break up the singular color scheme, his appearance as a cape told a story about his affiliations that many in the Bay would quickly latch onto. For better or worse. Regardless, as the rain fell on Greg Veder, he couldn''t bring himself to care much about how he might have appeared to any onlookers, not that there were any around. The blond simply sat where he was, overlooking the empty streets below as droplets of water peppered his body, the drizzle more of an annoyance than any actual problem Greg felt like rectifying. He hadn''t even given it a thought in the first place, simply at peace with having something to wear other than what ragged strips remained of his pants from the day before. Really, it wasn''t like he had much choice when it came to what he was wearing at all. The costume he had on right now, as well as the black balaclava he used to cover the parts of his face that the skull mask didn''t, all came from his inventory and despite everything else Greg had made sure to stock up on, clothing was something he had not thought much about. Well, apart from accessories for his costume. Dressing up in the costume that PHO had termed ''Hardkour'' would not have been his first option but it''s not like he had a great many others to choose from. At the very least, it kept him warm. Although, on further reflection, that might have not much to do as much with the clothes as he thought. (Resistance: Cold + 2) Regardless of the actual reasons, he was finally both clothed and clean, the latter mainly being achieved by his willingness to sneak into the building he currently sat atop, the city''s newest rec center/library that thankfully came equipped with hot showers. No soap or shampoo, of course, but you couldn''t have everything. Breaking into the recreational center hadn''t been his first choice but after engaging in several fights covered in filth along with his own dried blood and remaining entrails, Greg felt that a change was in order. All that had led him to where he was now, sitting atop said aforementioned rec center in the rain with a beat-up old flip phone in hand, mouth area of the balaclava pulled down as he spoke into the device. "I don''t know what to tell you, man¡­" His voice was as calm as it had been the last time he had called this number, each word was spoken with as little intonation as the one before it. "I went down to the neighborhoods you texted me. Most of them were total duds¡­ I mean, I didn''t see anything weird around but that could have just been me." "..." "Anyway, for the last two, I spotted a couple suspicious looking places. First was a dud too, but for the last one, I snuck in, found some ABB, fought pretty much all of them and then asked them some questions." (Sneaking + 3, Disarm + 2, Parry + 1, Reflexes + 1, Resistance: Blunt Force + 1, Aerokinesis + 2, Resistance: Piercing + 1, Resistance: Slashing +2, Resistance: Electricity + 2, Beginner Combat + 3) "...!" "Sp-" He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again as his friend continued speaking. "..." "Sparky¡­ it was nothing. A few bruises here and there. At worst, a missing tooth or a black eye." One thing Greg could appreciate about Gamer''s Mind was that it seemed to calm everything down. From his heart rate to his blinking and all the way down to his speech, there was a sense of purpose to everything he did and said. Something like that took all the stress and worry out of telling a lie¡­ no matter how big. "No broken bones or anything like that." "...?" "... A missing tooth isn''t that serious. ''sides, no one was hurt too bad, anyway." (New Ability Gained: Intimidation, Intimidation + 1, +1 STR, +1 CHA) Really, it was better that Sparky not know what actually happened, considering his tendency to overreact and fall into a rant. "Everything went as good as you would expect. Both were duds, though." "...?" "They didn''t know anything important," Greg replied, pausing for a moment to stare up at the cloud-covered sky. The blond rolled his eyes, the action almost invisible behind the dark tint of the goggles. "Of course I used Observe on them. I''m not brain-dead." (Observe + 2) "...!" "...Funny," the blond replied as the voice on the other end finished speaking. "Listen, Sparks, I ran all over the Downtown Coast this morning looking for ABB (+1 SPD, + 3 Acrobatics, + 2 Aerokinesis)," Greg continued speaking, voice still level. "I would have checked the Docks South but that''s on the other side of town. Just give me what you can find for down here." "..." "... Just¡­ Okay. Just give me what you can. I know it''s not easy but whatever you can find¡­ I''ll take it." From what he knew, Sparky had been scouring for clues on PHO and several local crime watch websites, hunting for any locations or areas in the city where ABB presence was high. News of the bombing being ABB-related had managed to get out overnight, likely due to the public noting how ABB territory was free from the attacks. Right now, the whole city was lit up with reports. Knowing where ABB territory was wouldn''t get him anywhere, either, because that still made up a good quarter of the city. He didn''t have the time or means to comb such a massive area. There was another silence, Greg nodding his head for a second or two. "Thanks, man." He hung up the phone, dropping the brick of a device into one of his chest pockets without paying much attention to it, his attention still focused on the city in front of him. As empty as the streets were this Tuesday morning, apart from the occasional distant explosion or the fading whines of multiple emergency sirens, one could be at fault for thinking Brockton deserted. Unfortunately for Greg, that also applied to any visible criminal activity. The ABB, in particular.
ABB II: Big Trouble in Little China Details: Locate five ABB hideouts. Failure if not completed before ABB I. Success: +2500 XP, + 2 Observe Failure: None Bonus Objective: Enter each one without being detected by its residents. ABB III: Kung Fury Details: Defeat 40 ABB members above Lvl 10. Failure if not completed before ABB I. Success: +15000 XP, [Enemy] reputation with the Azn Bad Boys Failure: None Bonus Objective: Use no weapons. ABB IV: Explosive Information Details: Uncover information about the creation or source of the ABB''s Tinker bombs. Success: +2000 XP Failure: Destruction of Brockton Bay, Death Bonus Objective: Obtain the information from a willing source and without coercion.
When he had first woken up on that rooftop early this morning, Greg had immediately set out on that vaguely-defined mission. After nearly three hours of running around the Commercial district in the dead of night, he was forced to admit to himself that he wasn''t getting anywhere. No, that he couldn''t get anywhere. At least not on his own. The next step on his mind was making a call. That required acquiring a new phone, or at the very least, a functioning one. Considering that it had been a little after three in the morning and less than 10 hours after the city had been subject to a mass bombing, buying anything wouldn''t have been an option. So, Greg turned to the only other available choice. Part of him had to wonder when he had become so blase that rifling through the pockets of a dead person for their usable items barely made him flinch. The other part of him had quickly shut that part up with the reminder that he''d been hauling around a headless corpse for the better part of a month now. A third part of him idly noted that he really should take care of that thing sooner or later. Greg shook his head, letting out a frustrated sigh as his mind began to wander again. I seriously need a plan. The blond''s eyes tracked over the smoke-filled skyline simply out of boredom, the expression under his mask almost completely flat. I''ve done nothing but¡­ His hands tightened in his pockets. Nothing but waste time with stupid, low-level grunts. A few moments later, he winced, eyes shutting as a faint sound hit his ears, followed by another one¡­ and then a third before finally petering out, the noises incredibly familiar even despite their distance from him. Another one. In seconds, another plume of smoke began to rise into the sky in the distance, darkening the already gray sky just a bit more. Another set of bombs going off somewhere in the city and he couldn''t do anything to stop them. Greg set his jaw, his eyes oddly cold behind his mask as he glanced back out over Brockton''s nearly empty streets. I can''t just keep going at it like this, he continued, mind elsewhere as he returned to his previous line of thought. Sparky is helping me out right now, trying to find where they are, but even then... The ABB needs to go down. All of them. Especially Oni Lee. The warmth in his chest burned cold under the influence of Gamer''s Mind and Greg wouldn''t have had it any other way. Focused anger was better than the uncontrolled stuff, when it really came down to it. He rose, pulling himself up to a sitting position with nothing more than a flexing of his leg muscles as they remained flush against the top of the wall. This just isn''t gonna work. It really wasn''t. Greg knew that there was still far too much of the ABB for him to take down the way he was. It wasn''t impossible, though. It couldn''t be, after all. None of his quests were impossible. That didn''t mean they weren''t hard as hell, though. The blond spat over the edge, tasting the remnants of congealed blood once again as the red-tinted loogie hurtled down. The mission was simple by definition; Take down the Azn Bad Boys. It was also extremely vague, by any definition of the word. What did such a thing even entail? HIt was also something that Greg had mused over for far too long before seeking assistance. The two quests that came after that one, thanks to information that Sparky provided, helped clarify what the first one needed from him. Still, it left far too much open for him to consider it simple. He couldn''t take down a criminal empire with simple fisticuffs and Greg wasn''t stupid enough to assume he could. If he wanted to get anywhere at all, he needed a plan. Desperately. Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt Greg Veder blinked slowly, glancing down at his breast pocket in slight confusion. Blue eyes widened slightly as he realized what it was, the vibration snapping Greg out from his thoughts and the increasingly over-complicated plans therein. Before the phone could buzz again, the blond pulled it out from his pocket and noting the familiar number on the back screen, flipped the device open and opened the new set of text messages he just received. Seconds after reading the series of messages Sparky sent, a slight frown formed on his face, the blond slightly annoyed with what he just read. After a moment, the frown faded to be replaced with a flat stare as Greg let out a sigh, pulling himself to a standing position on the very edge of the rooftop. "Docks South, here I come." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Docks South 16 Miles West of Winslow High 1:17 PM Squatting on the edge of another rooftop wasn''t where he''d envisioned himself roughly an hour later, Greg Veder passively noted, the slightest of frowns on his face. No, based on what he had been looking forward to, he had assumed that whatever he''d be doing at this point in time would be a lot more¡­ physical. Instead, he held still in an awkward pose, knees just below his chin, doing nothing but casting long glances around himself. Just waiting. Things were quiet, the blond could say that much. The neighborhood was almost too calm considering what had been going on for hours in the rest of the city. Even as he continued his watch, searching for clues, the streets directly below him remained quiet and empty, free of everything but parked cars, litter and growing puddles of rainwater. For the last twenty-two minutes, nothing had happened to draw his attention. No one frequented the sidewalks of this area, half the buildings consisting of run-down condos and the other half nothing more than old office buildings. Most of which were in desperate need of an owner. Greg couldn''t bring himself to care about the dilapidated state of the buildings though, his mind too focused on the growing frustration he could feel at not being able to actually find what he came down here for. Ten more minutes, he thought to himself. Ten more minutes on lookout and I''m checking out the next address. In all honesty, Greg doubted if he could bring himself to be patient for even half of that. After all, why waste time waiting in a clean neighborhood when he could go somewhere else crawling with ABB? In fact¡­ Why am I even waiting in the first place? Greg thought, rising to his feet with a look of annoyance behind his mask. The blond pulled out his borrowed phone to glance at the time, frown only increasing as he noted it. 1:35? He grunted at that, the sound barely audible. Definitely wasted too much time here. He turned to leave, already stepping off the edge and onto the graveled surface that covered the majority of the rooftop when he heard it. The sound of an engine as it drew ever closer. The blond stepped back onto the edge and dropped into another squat to prevent himself from being spotted before looking down below, eyes narrowing as a gray sedan with peeling paint came to a halt at the end of the street. Dried blood fell from his gloves in flakes as Greg clenched his fists, attention focused on the car as it came to a hard stop in front of a series of abandoned storefronts, parking behind a derelict car. His eyes narrowed further, almost into slits, as four men of distinctly Asian descent stepped out of the worn vehicle, all of them with a single metal briefcase in each hand. Fists clenched even tighter as Greg thought to himself, I wonder what those could be. Four heads turned from side to side, anxiously scanning both ends of the street for possible onlookers. None of them taking the opportunity to look up, they quickly began to scurry over to the building just a little further down from where they parked, a two-story office building just as run-down as many of the others on this same block. Blue eyes locked onto the back of the biggest one in a sweat-stained wife beater, his skin also much darker than that the other three. [Observe.]
Observe Lvl Up! 13¡ú14
Si Taksin Lvl 12 ABB Grunt Enforcer HP: 295/295 Member of the ABB for over four years, Si Taksin has secured his niche in the ABB working as a collector for Lung''s protection money, alongside many of his brothers. Possessing a viciousness that has served him well in the ABB, Taksin has been known to look forward to breaking bones in a brawl. Possesses several favorite pairs of brass knuckles.
His expression shifted behind his mask as the four men shut the door behind them, his eyes never leaving the building as Greg began to make his move. Let''s do this.
ABB II: Big Trouble in Little China 2/5 Hideouts Discovered.
o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Entering the building was easy, really. Skittering over the side of the building like one of those old comic-book characters from the 90s was trivial as his Surface Adhesion took away any real effort it would normally take to scale the building. Forcing open a window on the upper floor, though? That was a bit trickier to do without drawing attention. Still, compared to what he had to do next, it was pretty simple. Greg crawled over the edge of the window, careful not to make any noise as he lifted his lower half over the windowsill and let himself drop to all fours on the ground. Pulling himself back into a standing position, the blond took a moment to glance around the room and could only frown as he took in the damp darkness of what was likely once a private office. The smell of mold was almost overpowering, the peeling paint on the wail and fallen foam ceiling tiles giving the room even more of a decrepit feel. For a moment, Greg turned his face away, raising his arm to block his nose from the raw stench of it. The blond fought the urge to gag, shutting his mouth instead as he grit his teeth and held his breath. As if I didn''t already need a reason to hate this place. He could hear them below his feet, several voices. Far more than four, he could tell that much, almost trying to talk over one another. He couldn''t help but wonder how they could talk to each other, let alone breathe, in this crapsack of a building without hazmat suits. At the very least, the other building he had invited himself into ¡ª at least, the one that actually had any significant ABB presence ¡ª had been nothing like this, the ABB actually bothering to keep that safehouse livable, if still disgustingly trash-laden. Whatever the difference was with this building, Greg didn''t know and frankly, he couldn''t bring himself to care. Not like I''m gonna be here long, anyway. Shaking his head, Greg stepped around the old-looking metal office desk, the build-up of rust and grime on the thing serving as a signifier to how truly ancient it was. Rather than dwell on any of that, though, Greg continued to creep forward, walking on his heels as he carefully made his way to the dilapidated, water-damaged relic of a door. Carefully twisting the corroded iron doorknob, the blond fought the urge to wince at the loud, screeching groan the hinges made as the door creaked open. He held his position, waiting for a small army of ABB gangsters to come rushing up to check out the strange noise¡­ only to be surprised when nothing of the sort happened.
Sneaking Lvl Up! 14¡ú15
Did they¡­ Greg blinked slowly, eyes scanning what little he could see of the hallway from where he stood. The voices from downstairs came through far more clearly through the open door, allowing the teen to glean even more from their conversation, though the multiple languages involved complicated his ability to understand the arguments taking place. Did they not hear that? Realizing that they apparently hadn''t, the blond gave a mental shrug and proceeded out into the hallway in a crouch. He glanced from side to side, frowning as he took in more of his environment, his survey assisted by the sunlight coming from a window at the far end of the hallway and a single solitary light bulb flickering weakly in the middle of the corridor. The hallway was in nearly as bad a state as the private office, the ceiling tiles hanging loose and openly gaping in several areas to expose the building''s damp insulation. The walls were in similar shape, massive holes in the drywall, unpainted swaths of wall and white dust coating various surfaces, including the old dark carpeting that lined the floor. Greg shook his head again, tilting his head to the side as he continued carefully creeping forwards, each step adding another slight creak to the constant din of the office itself. Fu- The blond shook his head and kept moving, not wanting to waste any time complaining about something he couldn''t fix anyway. Even with his best efforts at moving quietly, he was bound to make some sort of noise and with the office floors constantly creaking even with the carpet, he had no other choice but to continue on his current path as he stealthed towards the stairs. As he got closer and closer, he could hear the voices far more clearly, now able to make out individual voices instead of a large mass talking at once. They mainly spoke English, interspersed with snatches of a few other ethnic languages Greg did not understand, each one of their voices bearing various level of accent; enough to leave Greg confused as to what they were actually saying. At best, Greg thought he could make out almost five or six different voices speaking in hurried tones over the same topic with several others chiming in every few seconds or so with something that Greg couldn''t really make out. So, he began, already going over what information he could understand, expression a stony grimace behind his skull mask and balaclava, I''m up against¡­ anywhere between¡­ His frown deepened for a moment as he gave the matter some thought, Anywhere between five to ten different guys. Best scenario, only half of them have any weapons. At worst, all of them have guns. The blond let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible to his own ears over the noise from below. Most likely case, at least two of them have guns, a couple more will have a pipe or a bat and all of them have pocket knifes. Maybe an axe or two, like in Aleph kung-fu movies. His fists tightened at his sides, Greg relaxing his fingers before repeating the action several times more, his frown growing. After a long moment, Greg''s face returned to a blank expression as he glanced over at the banister. So, like before¡­ move fast, hit hard, and make sure at least one of th- The thought died on his lips as a chill went down his back, something in the back of his mind screaming a warning. The blond''s eyes widened and he suddenly pulled back, ducking to the side as he followed familiar instincts. Wha- The blond spun on his heels with preternatural speed, twisting around the object that he could tell was aimed directly at his head, eyes widening at the sight of a rusted metal pipe as it passed by his head. Performing a perfect 180 in less than a second, Greg snapped his gaze up, blue eyes locking onto the shocked face of a man that looked the perfect picture of an ABB member, the tattoos on his bare chest marking his allegiance for all to see. For a second, they locked eyes and the world seemed to freeze, neither of them moving as Greg''s thoughts barrelled through his mind like a stampeding horde, taking into account several factors in an instant, including the fact that the shirtless gangster now stood directly between him and the path downstairs. It was almost a whole third of a second later before Greg finally settled on a single, yet deceptively simple, plan. Take him down hard. Take him down fast. Take him down quietly. Greg moved. His first punch was wild and thoughtless, but undeniably fast. A gloved fist rushed out, smashing into the thug''s unprotected jaw with a force just shy of bone-breaking. The man let out a gurgling scream for less than a second as he reeled back in pain, hands in the middle of rising to cradle his face as the pipe in his hands fell from his grasp. One hand snatched the weapon out of the air at the same moment as Greg moved in to finish the job. His other hand snapped out in a fist, sinking into the stumbling criminal''s rib cage before he could make any more noise, the action forcing the air out of the man''s lungs in a forceful gasp. The tattooed thug''s eyes widened as he doubled over, folding onto Greg''s fist and leaving himself completely unprepared for the next strike as a length of pipe met his temple with all the force the teen could deliver in an instant. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. The thug fell back, groaning loudly as blood spilled from the open gash on the side of his head. Unable to stop what he already put into action, Greg could only watch as the man sent back by his last blow didn''t stop, unable to halt his own backwards motion. There was complete silence as the shirtless ABB member landed at the foot of the stairs. Complete and utter silence. Greg chose to indulge in that for a moment, allowing himself a single thought. Okay. Two out of three, then. Stealth missions suck, anyway. The blond chose that moment to follow the same path, vaulting over the banister to hit the floor in a classic superhero landing. Greg took the moment between landing and standing up to survey the room full of angry Asian men of various ethnicities staring at him with shocked and angry expressions, each and every single one of them armed with some type of weapon. The blond also took that same moment to note that he had been wrong on his earlier estimate of people in the room. Wrong by just about half, I think, he mused, utterly too calm at this very moment. Staring down the room full of about roughly twenty armed and angry hardened criminals, Greg Veder took a moment to nod calmly and roll his shoulders, the taunt already spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Before we get to the fun stuff, show of hands¡­ how many of you want to avoid an ass-kicking by just telling me what the deal is with the bombs? Anyone? You in the front?" The thug in question, a scrawny man with wiry muscles and a penchant for gold chains, raised his hand. It had a gun in it. "Making me work for it, huh?" Greg allowed himself an eager smile behind his mask, the blond already pulling on the well of power that fueled his Reinforcement. "Even better." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 20 Experience 31510/32000
Health 1632/1632
Mana 495/495
Willpower 563/563
STR 66 SPD 63 (+2)
VIT 97 INT 51
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 24 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 25
Perk Points 1
Cash $18,568.57
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Catch Your Breath Endurance is patience concentrated. After forcing yourself to move under extenuating circumstances for a long period of time, your willpower recovery rate has doubled. (1 Will per 5 Seconds) Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 14 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 37.5 meters. Grows by 10 mph and 2.5 meters every other level. (150 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 3 meters. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 14 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 21 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (155%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (750%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 23 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 11 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 8 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Disarm Lv 5 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Intimidation Lv 2 (XP: 10%) If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (2%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 9 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 DODGE! Increases innate perception speed by 10% per level. (140%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 64 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (48%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 30 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (22.5%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 16 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (12%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Mob 5.9 Mob 5.9 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 18, 2011 1:21 PM
+ 350 XP + 700 XP (Bonus) + $78
ABB III: Kung Fury 13/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated.
The gangster adjusted his aim and Greg made his move, quickly dashing to the side in a feat of speed that could only be described as blatantly superhuman. His sudden movement came not a moment too soon as a sound of thunder jarred the blond''s eardrums at the very same instant that a section of the wall exploded less than a meter away from his face.
Status Effect: Mild Hearing Impairment (Ruptured Eardrum) - 10 minutes
Fu-! His head jerked back as the sound washed over, Greg shutting his eyes for an instant as his upper body was peppered with fragments of plaster and drywall dust, a spike of pain stabbing into his skull without warning. Less than a second later, the blond furiously shook his head as he pushed away the pain, vicious anger in his eyes as he charged towards the backpedaling shooter, the mob of gangsters already on the move themselves. In hindsight, that was a bad move.
-88
Status Effect: Severe Bleeding - 15 Minutes
Another gunshot rang through the air as Greg let out a sound that was more anger than pain; a new hole opened up in his chest and a white-hot pain in his torso and back informing him of what happened. He paused, only stumbling for a single moment as the pain in his chest ate at what little remained of his self-control. Still, it was enough time. The crowd of people thickened in a rough semi-circle centered on him, the shooter already lost behind a wall of men. A metal bat came swinging down on him, its holder likely cursing in some language Greg either didn''t know or bother to think about at the moment. The blond reacted, hand grabbing hold of the silver-colored melee weapon as he yanked the thing forward. The man on the other end was pulled towards him, letting go of the bat at the last moment as he realized what was happening. Greg, new weapon in hand albeit in an awkward position, swung the bat directly behind him on a gamble as his eyes darted around to those opponents that he could keep track of already. The sound of several people crying out in pain as the bat met resistance was all he needed for confirmation and the blond spun around, the wind buffeting around his limbs as he thrust his leg forward in a kick any true Spartan would be proud of. A burst of wind exploded outwards as his foot made contact, the thug on the receiving end flying across the room and colliding against the door with a cracking noise that sounded nothing if not utterly painful. Before he could even take a moment to celebrate that little victory, Greg was forced to dodge again as the edge of a long bladed weapon flitted past his field of vision. Shit!The blond quickly threw his head back in the opposite direction as another machete came swinging for his head less than a second later. Greg responded by swinging his own weapon back, yet another machete blade bouncing back off the thinner end of the bat as he diverted it into someone''s open face. The resulting shriek of pain and accompanying spray of blood from a broken nose only made the smile under his mask grow that much bigger. He knew that it wasn''t the fight itself he was enjoying so much as much as it was the knowledge that he was making them hurt with every action he took. Still, the fighting didn''t hurt¡­ in a manner of speaking. His heart rate spiked as he ducked forward, quickly maneuvering into a forward roll to avoid the continuing onslaught of weapons from all sides. Springing up to his feet in a handstand that quickly turned into a backwards flip, Greg drew around to face all of the ABB again as they formed up on each other, no longer allowing anyone of them to be at his back.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 23¡ú24
"Well, come on," Greg bit out, undisguised eagerness in his tone as he tossed the aluminum bat over his shoulder and brought both fists up to his face in his best mimicry of a boxer''s stance. He let the reinforcement around his body die down, the realization that he needed them in good enough condition to answer his questions coming to mind. "Let''s do this. I don''t got all day." "Jayus lo!" One of the thugs closest to him, a reedy man with a thick head of hair and dressed in a green leather jacket, let out a shout as he lunged forward, a butcher''s knife in one hand. The panic in his voice was clear for all to see and only made more obvious by the fear-stricken expression he wore. He rushed towards Greg despite all that, his confidence inspiring several of those around him as they began to make their own move, another in a red jacket of similar make right behind him with knives in both hands. For Greg, time slowed down by at least half as he prepared for their approach, eyes darting all over as he noted their weapons. Granted, half speed was still pretty damn fast when several grown men were charging you down in a room already filled to at least a fifth of its capacity but still¡­ It was enough. Fistswitchbladebrassknucklesbatknifeknivesmachetepistol. The thoughts filled his mind in a fraction of a second, Greg adjusting his stance as the eight men neared him with visible anger in their eyes¡­ Now. Greg Veder had never considered himself an expert on advanced martial arts on any level, his fighting skills consisting of knowing how to throw a simple punch or kick and everything he needed to do not to trip over his own feet while doing so. He also didn''t consider himself a master of the more simple arts either; the intricacies of boxing or wrestling eluded him. Honestly, it was a good thing that the wannabe hero never thought that highly of his own skill because what happened next could not be considered advanced or masterful in any way, shape or form. Gloved fists moved with a furious speed as he dashed forward, slamming into Red Jacket''s unguarded face and chest several times before the man dropped to the ground, each blow visibly jarring his frame before the knives flew from his hands. Without hesitation, Greg sprang at the next one with inhuman speed, slamming a vicious elbow into Green Jacket''s chest.
+ 275 XP + $75
The man stumbled back, choking as he tried to take in air, but remained on his feet. Greg didn''t allow him the option. Weaving around the attacks of several of his friends, the blond met the thug''s attempts to stay in the fight with a punishing kick to his lower body, sending him screaming to the ground.
ABB III: Kung Fury 14/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 375 XP + $25
The annoying thing about this fight wasn''t the fact that he had gotten shot already. What was more annoying was that, unlike the other group Greg had encountered today, these guys actually had some sense of teamwork; their quick reaction to any visibly opening was making it just the tiniest bit more troublesome for Greg to get a moment of peace in between hits. Of course, they weren''t perfect but still¡­ They were definitely an improvement. The last fight he had been in had been a good deal more hectic than this even at the beginning, each man stumbling over each other in their attempts to kill Greg. Here, they had at least some common sense. Though the slight fog in his ears remained, Greg could hear someone yelling out orders in fragmented English, the words not coming across well amid all the other faint shouts and curses. Greg dodged to the side as another aluminum bat came swinging at him, the blond tearing it out of his attacker''s hand with an angry tug. Wishing to end it fast, the blond twirled the bat into a proper grip and quickly thrust the bat forward, attempting to jab the butt of the weapon into his temple. Rather than going down, the man snapped his head to the side, wide-eyed with shock as he avoided the strike by a hair. Before he could so much as move again, though, Greg quickly corrected his mistake with a vicious punch that sent the man down.
Not even paying the batsman any more attention as he slumped to the ground without a word, Greg spun around with the bat in hand, the weapon striking yet another one of the ABB thugs, the man bending over in pain from the hit right before Greg dropped him with a swift kick.
+ 300 XP
Holding the bat to his back, Greg made it stick there with a quick application of Surface Adhesion, the weapon not budging as his free hand lashed out in a quick jab. His gloved knuckles sunk into the gut of an unprepared thug wielding a chipped machete, the man''s leather jacket no protection at all when he didn''t bother to zip the thing up. Red-rimmed eyes bulged as the thug let out a wheezing gasp and stumbled backward, that little sound completely drowned out by all the shouting going on around them. Instincts warned him to watch his back and the teen spun on his heels and thrust his forearm up to guard his face, just in time to receive the welcome gift of a pipe slamming down onto it. Jesus Ch- A shock of pain traveled up the affected limb, the strike sending Greg''s body back a few inches as he audibly grunted.
- 9
The pipe was quickly followed up by a slab of flesh in the shape of a fist as it slammed dead center into the teen''s chest. Greg bent at the waist slightly, an instinctive action as he tried to suck in a breath, his vision suddenly filled with the sight of a dirty wife-beater and an impressively muscled body.
- 18
As he jerked back up to his full height, a second fist slammed into his jaw from below in a mighty uppercut, and Greg''s gaze was lifted high enough from the force of it to catch sight of the chipped teeth, broken nose and scarred face of one of the ugliest men he had ever seen before.
[Critical Hit!] - 31
Before he could recover from those strikes in tandem, Greg was forced to take another strike as the end of a metal bat avoided his upraised arm entirely as it crashed into his right temple with skull-shattering force, the blond sent reeling with the force of took tremendous effort to force himself not to fall to the ground while still rolling with the hit. A groan spilling from his lips, Greg struggled to stay on his feet as his head pounded like a jackhammer, but he accomplished it regardless. Oh great, I just love the taste of my own blood.
[Critical Hit!] - 82
Greg glanced back up, ears ringing as he forced down a sudden wave of nausea. Fighting the urge to fall to his feet, the blond let out a wordless scream, full of anger as he pulled deeply on his mana and yelled along in his own head. Wind Explosion! The explosion of displaced air washed over him like a light breeze, the blowback barely enough to flutter his scarf. On the other end, it was like watching a bomb go off. Most of them were unlucky enough to be directly in front of it were lifted off their feet and slammed into walls, tables, chairs¡­ whatever happened to be in their path served to break their fall. The rest were toppled over, knocked to the ground and suffering nothing more than a slight dazing. Good enough.
+ 250 XP + 275 XP + 225 XP + 300 XP + 300 XP + 250 XP + 225 XP + $415
Basic Aerokinesis Lvl Up 14¡ú15
The blond rushed forward into the mob of fallen ABB, doing his best to ignore the pain as it reverberated throughout his skull, a solid thudding from the side of his eye warning him to be careful. Okay¡­ let''s finish this quick. A hand tore at the bottom of the balaclava under his mask, Greg pulling down the cloth to expose his mouth. Before I start getting angry. As he freed his mouth from its cloth enclosure, Greg quickly rushed forward again, taking them by surprise with his speed as he forced himself directly into the face of the first man to regain his footing. With a forceful ejection, Greg spat into the gangster''s face, painting his eyes with a mouthful of blood. The cry of surprise and disgust was expected as his hands flew to wipe his eyes, as were the similar shouts thrown by several others around him, the remaining men rushing to attack him. Already prepared for this, Greg parried several vicious strikes away from his body, diverting them off to the side, and with a seemingly unnecessary spin, the teen jerked to the side and slammed his open arm into the blood and spit-covered man with a move that was half-clothesline and half something else entirely. Hurricane Lariat! The tightly packed air churning around his forearm lifted the thug up and sent him across the room, the body only stopping when it slammed into a desk and slumped over it.
+ 275 XP +$42
The blond was already in motion as soon as the ABB went flying, using the remaining churned-up air from his aerokinetic clothesline to boost the force of his jump as he darted towards two shirtless men trying to circle around him. His jump turned into a dropkick, the force behind it magnified by his aerokinesis once more as Greg''s feet met the other man''s chest with a visible burst of air upon contact. It hadn''t been intentional, not in the slightest, but Greg Veder would be lying if he said he wasn''t smiling as he sent the thug flying face-first into a wall with a scream and the sound of something cracking that definitely wasn''t the sudden hole made in the cheap drywall and plaster that led to an adjacent room.
+ 250 XP + $30
As several others scrambled to their feet, a flash of gold caught Greg''s gaze and he rushed forward again, eyes locked on his target as the man attempted to pick himself up off the ground. "You!" The man in question reared back and nearly fell over, quickly attempting to scramble behind a desk for cover as his eyes widened in visible fear. Greg didn''t allow that. The blonde''s gloved fingers tightened around a handful of thick, greasy hair and yanked the shooter to his feet with a pained yelp as he visibly struggled. Greg drew his fist back and let an angry fist fly directly into his captive''s face. "Fuck you." He hit him again, growling with the strike and forcing a choked groan from the chain-wearing gang member. "Fuck your chains too." Another hard strike to the chest, the sound of something cracking under his fist music to Greg''s ears. The third was just overkill at that point, considering the second hit was enough to make sure that the guy wouldn''t be getting up for a while. Still, Greg felt like it was important to make sure of these things.
ABB III: Kung Fury 15/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated.
+ 400 XP + $137 + Frisky Cruiser Sunglasses (Black) + Beaded Dragon Gold Chain (14K) + IKOZE Sports Watch
Greg let go of the man, allowing him to drop to the ground, turned his attention back to what remained of the ABB in the room. Five of them still stood, one with a nose currently gushing blood as he tried his hardest to look threatening with a machete in hand. The teen drew his fists up again, ready to crack another joke at the expense of the ABB when the sound of another gunshot echoed through the ground floor of the office building. Greg stumbled forward as that familiar white heat spread across his torso, the sensation feeling like a vice grip around his chest.
[Critical Hit] -172
Status Effect: Severe Bleeding - 45 Minutes
Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 30¡ú31
Fuck¡­ Fuck¡­ Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ, that hurts!Greg forced himself to ignore the second hole in his chest and the inconsequential ABB armed with melee weapons trying to entrap him as he turned to stare daggers into the confused man. The man in question was busy staring between the gun and the boy in black, likely wondering why the latter wasn''t bleeding out on the floor. "You." Greg pulled the bat from his back and twirled it slowly, the thing coming free as he willingly cancelled the Surface Adhesion skill. The sweaty thug glanced up at Greg as his voice caught his attention, gun falling from his trembling hands as his eyes widened. "I''m gonna make you eat metal." He punctuated the statement with another twirl of the bat, all the while fighting the urge to wince again as the burn in his chest kept eating away at him. In all honesty, the pain was a great motivator for what came next. The vicious bat to the man''s kneecaps was something that Greg believed he would remember fondly in the coming future, possibly in the form of a story that he would tell to Sparky. The day he delivered a lesson as to why you shouldn''t shoot people in the back, an entirely different lesson from why you shouldn''t shoot people in the first place. That lesson came in the form of an angry roundhouse to the jaw.
+ 300 XP + 275 XP + 225 XP + $460.25
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C (5 Minutes Later) "I''m not gonna ask you again!" Greg Veder spun the man around, slamming his bruised body into the broken and cracked wall, the back of his head bouncing off the drywall for what had to be the fourth time in half as many minutes. The tattooed man''s attempts to struggle were almost laughable, the blond cape''s innate strength making even holding back a man larger than he was much easier than it should have been. Si Taksin. That was his name, Greg knew that much. It had been less than twenty minutes since he had Observed the thug as he and his four-man crew loaded several metallic suitcases into this building; the same ones that Taksin adamantly chose to remain tight-lipped about. Greg sunk his fist into the man''s stomach several times more as he growled his words into the remaining gang member''s face, punctuating each one with another strike to the solar plexus. "Start." Punch. "Talking." Punch. "Or." Punch. "Else." Punch. The last few were met with almost no resistance as Greg''s target went almost entirely limp in his grip, the thug''s eyes almost rolling back into his head. "Wake up!" Greg''s voice was a growl as his hands gripped the man''s shoulder tight, furiously shaking the man in an attempt to force him back to consciousness. When Taksin didn''t respond, the blond fired off a quick Observe and frowned at the results as the thug''s health still rested at nearly an eighth of its maximum. "Hey!" Greg tried again, shoving a finger into the man''s face as he pushed him back against the wall. "Don''t try and pull that. I know you''re faking." Both his hands dropped to the man''s chest as the teen gripped his shirt and Greg fiercely shook the man, trying to force him back into consciousness through his own means. After a few seconds, it was clear that his attempts were pointless. Fuck. With a frustrated sigh, Greg pushed away his anger again, letting it sink into the ever-placid lake that was Gamer''s Mind as he ignored the voice in his head berating him for not holding back enough. Without even looking at him, the blond pushed the thug back against the wall, mind already on another topic as he turned around. Another waste of time.
ABB III: Kung Fury 16/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated.
+ 400 XP + Convict Brass Knuckles (Chrome) + $110
Greg left the man to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap as he began striding over the unmoving and bleeding bodies of multiple ABB, not even bothering to so much as pause, his gaze focused on several metal cases resting on a few desks at the far end of the room. The blond stopped in front of the four desks shoved up against each other, each table holding two of the suitcases he had seen before. "Since he didn''t want to talk¡­" Greg angled himself to face the case closest to him, fingers already reaching for the clasps, "then I guess I gotta see it for myself." It opened with a click. Blue eyes narrowed, Greg staring at the multiple items inside the padded foam confines of the suitcase for a minute before uttering a single word as he chose one to focus on. ["Observe."] Those same eyes glazed over for a moment as he quickly read the panel that arose over the item he had been focusing on before completely shutting for a moment. As the moment passed, Greg Veder snapped his head back to the beaten and bruised form of the last ABB to hit the ground, face fixed in what could only be described as a venomous glare. "Are you¡­" His lips curled, sentence becoming a snarl before the blond could catch himself. A few moments passed before he made another sound, that of a single breath as he released it. "...fucking kidding me." He continued speaking, ending his thought as his hands trembled above the suitcase. With a sense of cautiousness and patience that most wouldn''t attribute to Greg, the teen shut the case and carefully re-did the latches, and returned to staring at the table with a flat expression.
Tinker Bomb Effect: Unknown
"...I honestly don''t know what I expected." Another breath passed his lips as he slowly shook his head, teeth grinding together. "I really don''t." In another slow move, the blond spread his hand over the tables in a wide arc, one more word on his lips. "Inventory." The eight cases vanished one by one as Greg''s arm moved over it, each surrounded by a flash of blue light and leaving nothing behind to mark their existence but motes of glowing blue light that quickly faded. A scowl on his face, Greg dropped his fists on the now-empty table, mouth a flat thin line of displeasure. "Well, now what?" The blond slowly turned around, facing the room full of prone bodies as he leaned back on the table, still pondering that question. His shoulders sunk, posture dropping as he brought a hand to his mouth and continued to look around the room. His gaze landed on one of said prone figures, the sound of stilted breathing suddenly as loud as a siren in the quiet room. Greg''s mouth turned down at both ends, confusion twisting the frown on his face. I missed one? Tilting his head to the side, Greg pushed himself off the table, paying little attention to the groan of the metal as he removed his weight from it. Eyes flashed blue for an instant as Greg thought the word. [Observe.]
Arashiro "Shirou" Jin Lvl 9 ABB Little Brother HP: 54/186 Yakuza fanboy and former Dartmouth hopeful, Arashiro Jin was forced into the ABB at the end of his senior year at Winslow and quickly got used to the gang''s lifestyle. Enjoys drugs, gambling and the freedom the ABB provides. Terrible at managing money. Currently trying very hard to act like he''s unconscious.
Huh, Greg blinked behind his mask as he continued walking over to the ABB in question, taking his time as he avoided stepping on any of the others. None of that was helpful except the last part. As he came to a stop directly behind Arashiro, Greg noticed the thug''s subtly rising chest freeze in place. For a long moment, the blond regarded him with completion for a brief moment, eyes narrowing as he slowly realized this one was the same guy that had come after him with a pair of kitchen knives. Kitchen knives that he barely managed to use, some part of him tried to argue for whatever reason, but Greg quickly strangled the thought promoting some leniency with another argument, Still¡­ it is the thought that counts. "Get. Up." Each word was punctuated with a sharp kick in the thug''s ribs, each one inciting a sharp intake of breath from the young man lying on the floor. Greg tilted his head to the side as the man went still again, still feigning unconsciousness despite what had just been done to him. Greg Veder shut his eyes and took a deep breath, unsure if he should shout or laugh at the situation in front of him. Choosing to do neither, the blond dropped to one knee, body looming over the ABB member''s bruised figure. His left hand lashed out next, individual fingers latching on to the gang member''s thick locks as Greg pulled back. Hard. The howl of agony Arashiro let out gave no illusions as to his state of consciousness, Greg not even flinching as the man''s wails faded as he realized the position he was in. The lines of dried blood tracing from his nostrils and the bruising and swelling around his face did serve to remind Greg of the furious combo he had delivered to this man''s face and chest, though. So, that''s half the job done. Greg flashed the beaten man a smirk, balaclava still hanging around his neck and leaving his mouth uncovered. "So, do you feel like telling me where you got these bombs from?" The silence was all the answer Greg needed, the ABB member managing a defiant look through one swollen eye and the other brimming with pained tears. "Okay. I can understand where you''re coming from. I get your position. I really do," Greg managed to shift his mocking smirk into a smile, the friendly expression coming out just as hollow as the humor in his voice. "But I''m just saying, you might change your mind if you understood mine." Silence. "Okay, let me explain, then." Greg paused to stretch his neck to both sides, the action failing to create the cracking sound he had expected. "You see, Jin, I''m very angry right now. Mostly ''cause of people like you. Terrorists who think it''s okay to bomb this city¡­" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. His grip tightened in Jin''s hair, forcing a slight groan from the man, "... think it''s okay to kill people and just¡­ just ruin lives. Innocent lives. Innocent people. People who had nothing..." Greg''s teeth slammed down on each other, the blond remaining quiet for a few moments before speaking up again, voice much quieter this time, "... absolutely nothing¡­ to do with any of this and you guys just blew them up because¡­ because¡­" The blond raised an eyebrow, tilting his head down as he shot the gangster a look that was equal parts curious and manic. "Why did you guys do this anyway?" JIn held on to his defiant expression and remained stoic, his only show of emotion being that of slight groans and a continued twitching in Greg''s hold as the blond''s knee dug forcefully into his ribs. Realizing that another of his questions wasn''t going to be answered, the teen let out a long sigh and continued speaking. "You know, it''s taking a lot out of me not to just¡­ I dunno," Greg shook his head as he made a wavering gesture with his free hand, "break your neck or something and go out to find one of your buddies out in this big ol'' city actually willing to talk to me. I just want you to know that." Jin stared back at Greg, defiant expression shifting into something resembling confusion, before reverting all the way back to outright scorn. "You''re not¡­ ngggh¡­ you won''t do that, teme." Greg raised an eyebrow at the words, confusion spreading across his expression as the grounded goon finally replied to something he said. "I won''t? Who said that?" A tongue darted out over cracked and bleeding lips, Jin taking in another sharp breath. "You¡­ you did. You would have done it already. You ain''t Empire either. They..." Jin gestured with his chin at the others in the room, "They''d all be dead already... if¡­ if you were... Empire." Geg glanced around the room, slowly nodding. "You sure about that?" "Yeah, those chikushou fucks¡­ they don''t hold back." Jin continued, voice obviously strained. "I bet¡­ I bet you''re a hero, probably a new one." The gangster visibly flinched a moment later as the silence left in the wake of his response was suddenly filled with loud, snide laughter courtesy of the cape kneeling above him. "Hero?" Greg''s laughter stopped abruptly, his fist tightening around Arashiro''s spiked hair. "See¡­ the thing is, normally, yeah, pretty much. But not right now," Greg paused to wrench the ABB member''s head closer to his own face, the thug letting out another scream as Greg yanked him by the hair, "... and definitely not when I''m dressed like this." Jin''s voice faded away again, the man shuddering as he stared up at the skull mask with blue eyes that glared down at him. "Y-y-you''re lying¡­" Without saying a word, Greg opened his free hand, the other pulling harder on Arashiro''s thick head of spiked hair to elicit another yelp. As his fingers opened up, a small tongue of flame came into existence on the blonde''s gloved palm, the tongue slowly blossoming into a small sphere that almost seemed to dance a few inches above his hand. Greg moved it closer, Jin''s sweat no longer being from fear alone as the heat neared his face. It took all the willpower the gangster had not to let out another shout when the ball almost doubled in size, jumping to the size of a baseball just a few inches from his face. "This feel like a lie to you?" "N-n-n-n¡­" His words tapered off as Greg closed his fist to snuff out the ball of fire, the grown man letting out a shudder of relief. "Tell me what I want to know."
Intimidation Lvl Up! 2¡ú4
+ 275 XP + Achete Leather Jacket (Red) + $85
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Rooftop 1:30 PM Greg Veder stood atop the rooftop adjacent from the building he had just been inside, the teen in full balaclava and mask as he waited for the police to arrive. The last gangster had told him almost everything he could think to ask about, information ranging from who was now leading the ABB to where his gang was getting the bombs from. Strangely, all the answers seemed to simply range back to one single name. Bakuda. Why did you blow up Brockton Central? Bakuda''s orders. Why are you blowing up the city? Bakuda''s orders. What does Bakuda want? ... That question seemed to be enough to stump the man, the guy simply shrugging after a few seconds of thought. Anything further than that was a dead end, with the man bearing no knowledge as to where this Bakuda actually was or where Greg could find the rest of these bombs. He didn''t even seem to know who Bakuda really was, apart from the vague knowledge of some bomb-based Tinker Lung recruited a short while ago. It had been a drop in the bucket, admittedly, but one the teen couldn''t help but be thankful for. Greg showed his appreciation to the unwilling informant by knocking him out as painlessly as he could. The guy actually thought I was gonna let him go¡­ Greg rolled his eyes as he let out a snort of laughter. Like he suddenly wasn''t a murdering terrorist. Seriously, where does Lung find these guys? That little bit of humor was interrupted as his phone rang in his pocket, the blond blinking in confusion for a few moments before fishing the device out of his front pockets. Flipping it open, Greg answered it with as much genuine happiness as he could manage. "Hey, Sparks. What''s up?" Granted, it wasn''t a lot but it was adequate. "Hey, G¡­ um, I g-" "Guess what I just did?" Greg interjected, not even Sparky a moment to really speak in his own eagerness. "...what? I-is it bad?" The hesitation in Sparky''s voice was almost enough to make the blond snort, his friend no doubt jumping to the worst possible conclusion. "Relax, dude, nothing like that. I just got us a major lead that''s gonna crack this whole thing wide open." "That''s¡­" Sparky sighed, "that''s really great, man but I gotta tell y-" "Waitwaitwait, let me finish," Greg interrupted again, "I gotta tell you ab-" "Greg!" Now, it was Sparky''s turn to interrupt, voice an angry whisper. "Dude, it''s really important! You gotta listen to me right now. My parents are all over the place, going back and forth in the living room and I had to go in the bathroom to call you so listen up." Greg blinked, a slight frown forming on his face at what Sparky was saying before the blond just shrugged. "Sure, sure, go ahead." "I just called to tell you that¡­" Sparky paused again, his words trailing off to a furious mutter under his breath. "Sparks?" Greg couldn''t help the frown that deepened on his face as he caught the words ''bad idea'' and ''might as well'''' from Sparky''s undertone. "...Sorry¡­ Sorry about that." "It''s cool, I guess. Just tell me what you need to say." "...He escaped." Greg blinked at the emphasis in just those two words. "Okay, I heard the capitalization in that," he began, frown only now turning into a full blown scowl. "Who exactly are we talking about here?" "Lung." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level Experience
Health
Mana
Willpower
STR SPD (+2)
VIT INT
WIS (-70%) CHA (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 25
Perk Points 1
Cash $20,025.82
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Catch Your Breath Endurance is patience concentrated. (1 Will per 5 Seconds) Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. Surefooted I don''t trip. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!"
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 14 "Winds, guard me!" (150 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 3 Burn, baby, burn! Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 1 I call it walking on air. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 14 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 21 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. (155%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • (750%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 24 Parkour! Awareness: Mana Lv 11 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 8 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. (10%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. (12%) Disarm Lv 5 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. (6%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Intimidation Lv 4 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. (4%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. (120%) Parry Lv 9 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. (16%) Reflexes Lv 14 DODGE! (140%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 64 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. (48%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 The cold never stopped bothering you. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 46 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." (46%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 31 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop (23%) Resistance: Poison Lv 3 I wonder what counts as a poison... (3%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 16 The cut will stop but not kill. (12%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" (20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. (8%)
Cutscene: Introspections Cutscene: Introspections ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 18, 2011 2:57 PM "-he PRT still refusing to confirm or deny allegations of ABB influence in these attacks desp-" No. "-ougarton Abbey star, Courteney Dockery, in financial hot w- No. "-ext time on Law & Order: PRT. Check your loc-" No. "-ove it, I sawed this boat in half! And repai-" No. "-oes Mayor Christner intend to address the attacks on this city with his current st-" No politics. "Tonight on Mock Trial with Judge R-" No. "-scape from Protectorate custody, with the aid of subordinate Oni L-" No news. "-eath toll from what is being called "The Brockton Central Hospital Massacre" has been lowered from the initial estim-" I said, no news. "-st time on Los Amantes Clandesti-" I don''t speak Spanish, so no. "-agic in a coral reef is not just the reef itself, but the importance it holds in the entire tropical ocean eco-" Nothing educational, please. "-ime Scene: Scene of The Crime, a Chad Dylan Cooper producti-" Terrible. "-es irae, dies illa, Solvet saeclum in favilla, Teste Dav-" ¡­ Ughh, no classical right now. "-ttle Legend: Superhero Adventures right here on Disney Ch-" Definitely not. "-nother episode of Young Eidolon right here on Cartoon Ne-" Hmmm... A set of stormy gray eyes blinked slowly, allowing another thought to penetrate the assembly line of rejections. The image of a boy in a bright green cloak, tattered jeans and a metal mask striking a pose surrounded by several other colorful characters was reflected in those same eyes as triumphant music blared before fading out. ...Why not? His bored expression shifted slightly, the sides of his mouth rising up as something occurred to him. On second thought, let''s ask the expert. Turning away from the television in front of him, gray eyes dropped to the floor as Theo cast a glance at the infant within the colorful confines of a bouncing walker, her legs softly kicking as she slowly made her way around the space in front of the couch. The baby continued her babbling and cooing, utterly oblivious to her older brother''s growing smile as he watched her play. "What do you think, Aster?" The ten-month-old let out an odd squeaking giggle as she looked up, attention drawn by her name. The amount of dribble escaping her mouth was plentiful as usual, droplets trailing down the sides of her mouth already adding a glistening shine to several of the brightly colored plastic knobs and toys that adorned the front of her walker. Tilting his head at an angle as he leaned forward, Theo continued his thought towards his sister, still smiling that same soft smile. "What do you think, Aster? Do you want to watch Disney Channel or Cartoon Network?" His question was replied to with a spiel of infantile babbles, the little blonde baby''s attention no longer on him, as her focus was now occupied by some colorful rubber toy in her hands, the thing positively bathed in her drool. "When you''re right, you''re right." The older boy nodded sagely, treating the nonsensical babbles with as much seriousness as he could despite the smile on his face. "Disney Channel is for babies." It was a curious hand that lingered on the remote, finger hovering over the volume button for a few moments as he held his gaze on the screen. As of right now, it showed a commercial of several young children of different ethnicities bouncing through the air for some pointless reason. Theo didn''t pay it much mind apart from wondering in what fictional universe could a group of children so excited about easy-peel tangerines be found? His eyes glazed further over as he eased back onto the couch, some annoying TV spot about bullying coming up immediately after and doing its utmost to send him to sleep. He let out a yawn, a free hand rising up to scratch his butter blond hair as he placidly waited for the commercials to pass. In a few moments, they would be airing a rerun of Young Eidolon, a cartoon all about the titular Triumvirate member''s heroic misadventures as a preteen wannabe hero named Eddie Long, the entire thing set in a more modern environment than the famous hero''s actual late 80s debut. More than likely, it was one he hadn''t seen yet. The idea, design, and even the animation style of the show had been shamelessly copied from the production company''s equivalent on Earth Aleph; the original was some weird show involving aliens. Rip-off or not, the show was still one of Theo''s favorites, not that the teen had much time to watch it in the first place. Really, it wasn''t very often that Theo Anders found himself in front of a TV, especially not with any sense of freedom to watch what he wanted. His father made very sure of that. After all, why rot your brain with pointless entertainment when he could be bettering himself, ''proving himself worthy of the Anders name''? Theo took a moment to think, idly wondering how many times he heard that same phrase till he finally realized that would never happen, at least as far as his father was concerned. The chubby boy fought back a scowl, expression blank as he tried very hard not to glance over at his violin case propped up in the far corner of the living room. The television screen faded back in after yet another pointless advertisement and a title screen of neon green and gleaming metal zoomed into view to fill as much space as possible. Upbeat rock music played as the opening began, the images on screen bringing another small smile to his face once again. The opening soon neared its end and Theo found himself singing along to the last of it in a rather low tone of voice, his head moving slightly in time with the music. "... Armed with powers, he''s on the case, fighting off evil, he''ll make the chase, he''ll never stop till he makes them pay, ''cause he''s the baddest kid to ever save the d-" Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! Theo found the words dying on his lips at the sound of a closing door and the tap-tap-tap of nearing footsteps, smile dying away as his face shifted into something that looked more at home on a marble sculpture than a fifteen-year-old boy. It was with this expression that he muted the television and looked up into the face of his once-stepmother as Kayden made her way into the living room, dressed in nothing but a white bathrobe. Her steps rang of a slightly hurried pace and Theo caught sight of an expression giving off an air of slight nerves on her face. That changed as she stepped into the living room proper, her face brightening with the beatific bliss that only mothers could have. Kayden bent at the waist, crouching as she paused in front of Aster, the baby''s cooing and giggling ratcheting up in volume as she caught sight of her mother. Those drool-covered hands reached out insistently and Kayden obliged, Theo watching placidly as the brunette cooed back at the blonde infant now in her hands. A few long seconds of baby-talk between mother and daughter passed that way, Kayden delivering kisses all over Aster''s face as she did so, before she gently lowered the baby back into her bouncer-walker, the hesitation in her actions almost screaming of reluctance. As Aster began bouncing again, her mouth now occupied with a rubber toy, Kayden finally glanced back up at the other person in the room, shooting him a smile that Theo doubted was as earnest as she wanted it to be. "Theo?" He blinked once, mouth remaining in a thin, inexpressive line as he replied with a simple "Yes," the word obviously not a question. "Well, I''m going to be heading out soon. Are you okay?" She tightened her arms around her chest as she spoke, Theo''s expression dimming as he noticed that the white fabric didn''t seem to end at her bathrobe, the snowy color becoming skin-tight as it left the confines of the robe all the way from her neck down to her fingers and toes. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, sinking further back into the couch instead. It''s not like I didn''t expect it. Deciding to answer the vague question, Theo gave her a slight nod, replying with the usual and well-practiced, "I''m fine." Her smile seemed to tighten as he said that, the pudgy blond not even bothering to raise an eyebrow in confusion as he cast a quick glance back at the television. Kayden was never as good at hiding her emotions as she thought she was, leaving no surprise as to why she and his father''s marriage lasted for so little time. The brunette was clearly doubtful of Theo''s words, obviously hoping that he would say more. "Well, um¡­" she began again, "Hopefully, I''ll be back before it gets dark but¡­" Kayden gave a light shrug, almost as if unsure where to go from there. Theo raised an eyebrow as he waited for her to continue, her smile tightening for a moment before she began to speak again. "In case I don''t get back before¡­ Well, before midnight, I left some money on the kitchen table. You know what for. I don''t know if anyone''s delivering right now but if not, there''s plenty of food in the fridge." Theo could only blink in response as her smile brightened in an obviously forced action, the expression only making him uncomfortable. "Okay," he answered back, voice as slow and measured as he could make it. Silence followed his one-word reply, the lengthening quiet only broken by the sound of Aster''s babbling and the energetic sounds of her walker. "Is there anything you want to ask me?" Kayden asked, an attempt to break the tension that she had repeated several times in the past week. He never bothered to answer though, well aware that the entire point of the question was simply to bait Theo to say something¡­ anything. So, he simply stayed quiet, shaking his head. Kayden tended to do this often, far too often in his opinion; attempting to connect with him despite his many polite attempts to avoid any such thing. They were never close during the short period that she was legally Mrs. Maxwell Anders and with her having been married to his father for so little time before their, to him at least, expected divorce, Theo had never even gotten around to thinking of her as anything more than another girlfriend of his father''s, even if she was more public than the others. A girlfriend that happened to be the mother to his sister, but still, for Kayden to assume they had been closer than they were or for her to feel she could build such a bridge when Theo knew very well what kind of person she was¡­ Well, it said a lot about what kind of person she thought he was. Despite all that, the idea of asking her where she was going did occur to him, if only to be polite, but both of them were well aware he already knew. Anyone with a TV or internet connection in the city knew that Purity had been making a lot of appearances against the ABB for the past week, after all. And now with Empire back-up once more: that little note in the news spoke volumes to Theo. He supposed he could ask the question simply to be polite, an attempt to keep up the appearance that their situation possessed even a semblance of normality¡­ but that would just be pointless. "Okay, then," she spoke up after a few moments of silence between them, "Wish me luck." "Good luck." It was only through force of will that he didn''t stumble over the words as they passed his lips. Every single time, she asked him to say that when they both knew. Although, he was the only one that cared. The false emotion he placed into just those two syllables was enough to make him sick with how dead they made him feel. Judging from Kayden''s expression before she turned around to leave, he very much doubted his insincerity went unnoticed. As the door closed behind her, Theo took it upon himself to sink back into the couch, a finger finding the mute button without so much as a glance. "-me on, Lee! We''ve got to stop Alexa before she takes out the wrong bad guy!" An excited squeak burst from Aster''s mouth as the return of sound drew her attention back to the colorful moving pictures on the TV, the ten-month-old waving her hands excitedly at the sight of it. Gray eyes brightened ever so slightly as a blank expression turned upwards at both ends. Mob 5.10 Mob 5.10 (Part I) ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 19, 2011 4:47 PM For its location in the Docks South, the Royal Dragon''s Oriental Palace was a rather popular Chinese restaurant. Known by many in the area, it had a good reputation and received regularly appreciative reviews, which was somewhat confusing for a place directly in the center of Northern ABB territory. In fact, if you asked most people what they thought about it, your first two answers would be something along the lines of ''great food'' or ''excellent service''. Again, very, very, odd for a place so deep in ABB gangland. Interestingly enough, asking certain other people found you receiving remarkably different results, to say the least. Far more informative answers like ''...big boys in black suits all over the place'', ''...lots of money comin'' in that ain''t from dim sum'' and, most damning of all, ''Where you think the Bad Boyz keep the bodies they drop?'' came from the least likely of places. His informant was¡­ unexpected, to say the least. As in, Greg didn''t expect her. Literally. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Things had started off predictably, with Greg once again roof-jumping every which way in search of more ABB locales and hideouts. With Sparky''s well of information having run dry with PHO currently focused on Lung''s escape to the detriment of other things, Greg had decided to put boots to the ground, forgoing the use of his aerokinesis in order to further level his Acrobatics. Going after Lung wasn''t even a thought on his mind right now; the blond was too focused on putting an end to these bombings as soon as possible to even humor the idea. Well¡­ maybe, he had thought about it for just an instant. Possibly a few seconds more than that. Maybe. Either way, Greg was nowhere near Lung''s reputed location so the violent fantasy in his head remained just that. According to Sparky, the draconic cape had apparently fled Southeast with Oni Lee covering his tail, the pair of them heading towards the larger section of massed ABB nearest to the bombings plaguing the center of the city by the Downtown Coast. Trailing after the two were several Protectorate capes along with a small army of PRT officers, all of them storming the Downtown Coast on a dragon hunt. Sparky had even heard rumors of some Empire capes ¡ª Purity, Hookwolf and Stormtiger in particular ¡ª being seen near the action. What he did know for a fact was that Squealer had been seen tearing down there with Skidmark and Mush in tow, the three of them riding in something that looked like the offspring of a monster truck, a tank and an ATV. Greg wasn''t sure how that last bit worked in that combination but just hearing about it was almost enough to make him consider making a beeline to where the action was to try and take down Lung himself. Almost. The teen hurled himself over the gap of an alley, spinning through the air with an utterly unnecessary flip to land on the next rooftop. Gravel flew from under his feet as he touched down, the particulates sent hurtling from the force of Greg''s landing as he skid slightly forward. He prepared to shoot forward again only to halt as the sound of annoyed cursing hit his ears, a feminine voice from the street below. Curious, Greg made his way over to the edge and glanced down, frowning slightly as he spotted a woman leaning against the alley entrance, a dwindling cigarette between her fingers. As his eyes took in the incredibly tight top and what had to be an uncomfortably short pair of cut-off jeans, it didn''t take Greg long to draw a conclusion as to who exactly he was looking at. Granted, he also didn''t feel like being wrong either. "[Observe]."
Kae Ji-Yun Lvl 5 ABB Street Girl HP: 115/125 Former modeling hopeful from Texas, Ji-Yun moved across the country and squandered most of her funds before she found work at a massage parlor in Boston owned by the ABB.
The ABB title in her name didn''t exactly do much to endear her to him in any real way and the red font above her head just screamed ''Enemy''. Above all else, he needed information. Greg raised a hand to his face, adjusting a skull mask that already sat perfectly on his face before dropping low to the long red scarf around his neck. She''s a¡­ He let out a low breath, trying to push down the simmering anger he could feel at just those three letters. She''s not a gang member. They make her do this. Just try to remember that. Satisfied, the blond made his move, starting by taking two calm steps over the edge. He made the fall look effortless, landing almost perfectly on the sidewalk with only a burst of wind to cushion his sudden drop. Also, it looked very intimidating. At least, Greg hoped it did. Judging from the slightly raised eyebrow of the prostitute in front of him, she didn''t seem to think it was all that impressive. Doing his best to loom over the slightly shorter woman, Greg frowned behind his mask and took a slow step forward. He raised a hand, pointing a single finger in her direction as he opened his mouth to deliver a threat. "H- "Forty for a windy, fifty for a handy. Everything else is a hundred for an hour, fifty for half. Which d''ya want?" The boy in black froze before he could say anything, stunned by the words that came out of the woman''s mouth. He blinked behind his mask, unsure of how to respond to that. "W-what?" "I said, which one you want?" Ji-Yun raised her head as she took another drag from her cigarette, red-rimmed lips opening just wide enough to blow the smoke into Greg''s face. "I ain''t got all day, cape."
Poison Resistance Lvl Up! 3¡ú4
"I¡­" Greg found himself blinking again, mouth suddenly uncomfortably dry under the street girl''s unflinching stare. The situation was odd enough as it was, a cape approaching what could be politely termed a ''lady of the evening''. Ignoring the fact that it was still far from dark outside, it was only made far more uncomfortable by the fact that her clothes were unsuitably tight and the pose she held against the wall only seemed to accentuate that.
Status Effect: [Distracted by The Sexy]
"N-none! Neither! I mean..." Clearing his throat, he took a slight step back, annoyance falling away as Greg suddenly became unsure of himself. The woman continued to stare at him with a disaffected expression as he spoke up again. "I''m¡­ I''m not¡­ here for anything like that." "You sure?" The eyebrow rose even higher as her gaze trailed up and down his body, Greg taking another unintended step back at the sudden gleam in her eyes, her flat expression shifting up into a smirk that could only be described as predatory. "From what I hear, I''m pretty good at it." It took tremendous force of will for Greg not to back away again. Hands tight at his side in balled fists, the teen instead took a decisive step forward and shot as heated a glare as he could manage at the older woman in front of him. "Listen," he barked out, actually having to struggle to work a growling undertone into his voice, "I''m not here to play games. I w-" "I''m not here to play either," Ji-Yun interjected, calmly taking another puff of her cigarette as if she wasn''t in the middle of being threatened by an unknown cape. "Not unless you pay for my time. After that, we can play whatever games you want, little boy." Jesus f- Greg screwed his eyes shut as the words left her mouth, her tongue darting out across her top lip in a way that Greg couldn''t help but assume came from practice. Fighting the urge to go down that train of thought, the blond opened his eyes again and shot the smirking woman another harsh glare, suddenly deciding to let his anger show. That''s it! What the fuck would Sophia do right now? Ji-Yun let out a sigh, glancing down at her garishly colored nails before looking back up at Greg''s masked face. "Listen, kid, either you want to have some f-" "Hey! Bitch!" The blond grit his teeth as he shut down whatever the street girl was gonna say next, quickly forcing his voice into another guttural growl. Strangely enough, the action came across far easier the second time around. "Let''s make one thing clear right the fuck now! I''m the only one allowed to run his fucking mouth right now, you understand?" The prostitute''s eyes actually widened in slight shock before she caught herself, expression slipping back into amused boredom. "Oh, little puppy can bark n-" "I said¡­ Shut. The Fuck. Up," Greg barked again, advancing forward enough that it was now the woman''s turn to take a step backward. Unfortunately for her, her back was already against a wall, a startled expression replacing her cultivated mask of boredom as she realized her situation. She tried to quickly step to the side only for Greg''s arm to block her path as he struck the brick wall with a gloved palm, the woman shrinking back from the sudden movement. "What''s so goddamn hard to understand about not opening your fucking mouth, huh?"
Intimidation Lvl Up! 4¡ú5
That''s what I''m talking about! Leaning his masked face closer to hers, Greg tried not to enjoy her flinch but he didn''t really try all that hard. "Listen up and listen good, bitch," the teen paused, blinking slightly as the sickly sweet scent of her perfume invaded his nostrils, his sudden closeness forcing him to take the brunt of it. "I¡­ I want info. Tell me what you know and I¡­ I might not, uh¡­ show you what I learned from Uber & Leet!" It took effort to not be the one to flinch as the last bit left his mouth, the reference to U & L''s most infamous episode somehow taking precedence in his thoughts. Did I really just say that? Jesus... After a few moments of silence, the street girl''s frightened expression began to fade and she stared back at him with something that looked remarkably close to defiance. Seemingly regaining her composure, Ji-Yun pulled herself up to her full height and stuck her chest out defiantly as she spat back, "Cash up front." "What?" "I told you before¡­" She smirked back at him, not even flinching at the growl Greg forced into his tone anymore. "I''ll do almost anything as long as you can pay for my time and I only take cash up front." A pale hand stretched out towards him, palm facing upwards. Greg stared back at her, fingers twitching as he looked into the street girl''s overmade face. I swear to God, she better not be serious right now. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As Greg would quickly find out, she was being absolutely serious and no amount of threats or intimidation would get her to back down. Ignoring that, though, she seemed to be a good source of information, willing to provide what little she knew as long as Greg was willing to pay for anything she told him. Considering his situation, the teen found her position somewhat understandable and quickly agreed, throwing in a few packs of cigarettes to sweeten the deal. (- Red Apple? Cigarettes x 3, - $200)
Quest Gained! ABB V: Oriental Infiltration Details: Discover what secrets the ABB are hiding using a fancy Chinese restaurant as a front. Success: +2500 XP, + 2 Sneaking Failure: None
Long story short, Ji-Yun knew absolutely nothing about the ABB''s new boss or anything about the bombs. In fact, her exact words on the question were, "I get paid to make something blow, but it sure as hell ain''t bombs." Even then, Greg didn''t find himself regretting the purchase¡­ much. At least, he hoped he wouldn''t end up regretting it. This better be worth that money. Blue eyes narrowed with that thought as the teen stared at the three-story tall restaurant from the building across the street, struck for a moment by how ridiculously cheesy it looked. Golden dragon sculpture on the roof, yin-yang symbols on the walls¡­ Greg rolled his eyes at the sight of it. What is this place? A kung-fu temple from a 90s movie? Really, with it''s red painted walls, gold tiled roofing, and bright red paper lanterns hanging from several surfaces, the entire place from the outside was so stereotypically Chinese in design that Greg couldn''t help but hear the Oriental Riff playing on repeat in his head. Although, with a name like Royal Dragon''s Oriental Palace, I don''t know what else I expected. After a moment of confused staring, the blond shook his head and frowned again, hands tightening at his sides. I better not regret this.
ABB II: Big Trouble in Little China 3/5 Hideouts Discovered.
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Five Minutes Later ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Reflexes Lvl Up! 14¡ú15
Status Effect: Mild Hearing Impairment - 15 minutes
A scream leapt from his mouth as Greg Veder dove behind a golden-tiled pillar, quickly ducking into a roll as he came to a stop behind several waist-high walls of the same design. Gunshots rang out ¡ª far too many for him to even count ¡ª as the space where his body just occupied a moment before was quickly littered with bullets. His hands rushed to his head, the blond clutching his ears in a futile attempt to muffle the deafening noises each bullet drove into his skull. "J-jesus¡­" Still, it could be worse. He wasn''t sure if it was the ringing in his ears, the ruptured eardrums, or simply the fact that he had gotten used to the noise, but he was no longer flinching at every gunshot, despite how unbearably loud they were. The explosive sound of gunfire continued above his head, fragments of golden tiles splintering onto him from all sides as his attackers continued their onslaught. Repeated clanging of bullets hitting metal warned him that their shots were getting closer to home, multiple shots making contact with the gold dragon sculptures resting on top of the set of half-walls he was crouching behind.
Quest Changed! ABB V: Oriental Ambush Details: What else did you expect a prostitute would do other than fuck you over? Ji-Yun has led you into an ambush of armed men inside the Royal Dragon''s Oriental Palace. Survive the resulting shootout and discover information on the ABB''s exploits. Success: +12500 XP, + 2 Gunplay: Handguns, + 1 Gunplay: Rifles Failure: Death Bonus Objective: Disarm 5 ABB Enforcers (Suited). Complete the mission without losing more than 25% health.
Uber & L33t did nothing wrong. Really, they''re heroes. Blue eyes darted from side to side behind a silver skull mask as the shots began to slow down just enough that the blond began to make out other sounds, that of cursing and movement, in between shots. If that wasn''t enough of a warning, he could feel that familiar tingle at the base of his neck, the subtle warning that rarely told him as much as he really needed acting up again. Really, it had only been sheer luck and trusting in his Danger Sense that had saved him from getting shot even after nearly a full five minutes of being shot at. He wasn''t going to deny it now. Voices cut into the hail of gunfire, rapid-fire Chinese barely audible over staccato bursts from several different weapons. Shit. He grit his teeth at the sound of dress shoes clicking against the tile floor amid the very short pauses of gunfire. Shouts in broken English and quick spurts of Chinese told him nothing at all but he didn''t need to understand them to understand the situation. They''re making a move. Shit. Shitshitshitshit¡­ The blond''s eyes widened as the careful clicking of leather on tile turned into rapid taps, a hail of footsteps quickly getting louder. Shiiiit! It was a burst of movement that saved him as he felt the sudden urge to move. Immediately acting on the impulse, he threw himself to the opposite, bullet-riddled wall directly behind the pillar and hugged the surface as closely as he could. The action came not a moment too late. A burst of gunfire came far too close for comfort as a suit-clad ABB gangster charged around the corner, the attacker¡¯s uncontrolled charge sending him almost skidding into the wall as he fired wildly at where he assumed Greg was. Was being the operative term. Greg surged to his feet, body charged with a golden glow and fists already in motion as he threw a vicious punch directly at the man''s face¡­ only to miss. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.The shock on the teen¡¯s face was almost palpable as the ABB thug¡¯s dress shoes came to their wearer¡¯s unexpected rescue. The complete lack of traction made him stumble backward to catch his balance. Thus, a glowing fist intended for his face instead met the bullet-ridden wall, slamming through the coating of red paint and sending white dust and drywall shrapnell flying with the force of his strike. Fighting the urge to scream in frustration, Greg reacted as the man tried to recover from his stumble and sudden surprise at the explosion of drywall, a curse on his lips as he tried to aim the sub-machine gun in his grip. Tearing his hand from the wall, Greg grabbed the goon¡¯s gun-arm by the wrist and jerked it clear of him ¡ª painfully, if the sudden scream meant anything. Mind racing, he reared his own head back. Greg¡¯s skull snapped forward a moment later only for him to flinch back in shock almost instantly as the expected noises of pain and smashed cartilage were drowned out by the thunderous din of an Uzi going off very, very close by and a quickly silenced scream. Letting the possibly concussed ABB goon in his grip fall to the ground, Greg blinked at the sight to his right, the entrance to his hiding spot filled by the still-standing form what Greg assumed was once another ABB member¡­ at least back when the majority of his face was still present. The blond¡¯s gaze flicked between the gun in the unconscious ABB member¡¯s grip, noting the slight curl of smoke as it left the barrel before turning back to the image of gore now lying at his feet, noting how well the blood disappeared into the scarlet wall and carpet it landed on. The gray matter, on the other hand¡­ Yeah, that''s gonna be hard to get out.
+ 350 XP + 700 XP (Bonus) + $225 + Gold Link Bracelet + Hang Sui 24K Gold Ring + 9mm Glock
Beginner Combat Lvl Up! 8¡ú9
A pistol clattered to the floor as the body fell to the ground in a heap, almost as if it just realized it was missing chunks of it''s most vital organ. The blond didn''t even bother to look as it fell, far too preoccupied with the pulse in the back of his head warning him again to move. Already in motion from the moment he felt it, he swung his legs over the short wall with a hurdle that would make an Olympic hopeful proud, only for his eyes to widen as a searing pain tore through his left leg.
- 54 - 42 Status Effect: Moderate Bleeding - 5 Minutes
Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 30¡ú31
¡°Jesu-gAAAAH!¡± Stumbling in shock and pain, the blond glanced over his shoulder, looking back long enough to lock eyes with an ABB member visibly bleeding from where his forehead had previously impacted Greg¡¯s.He clutched a gun in one hand. I thought he was knocked out! Stifling a scream with an angered grunt, Greg tucked himself into a dive roll before jumping back to his feet with only the slightest stumble and a sharp hiss. Why does it never stop hurting? Before he could even take a moment to answer that rhetorical, he found his eyes widening even further as several dozen guns of different shape and size turned to face him, Greg once again reminded that the entire restaurant was still full of armed criminals. As if the ones surrounding him on the first floor weren''t enough, the teen couldn''t help the slight twitch in his eye as he noticed several of them on the second behind the railings, those of them without guns already moving towards him in packs. ... Fuck me running. The sight and sound of several guns being reloaded only drove him to repeat the thought as he took a step and shot forward, speed coming to his rescue again. He barely caught the shouts of the suited ABB as he charged across the bullet-riddled remains of a once-luxurious dining area and tackled the one nearest to him before he could react. It was like a professional linebacker drilling a small child from the blindside, a shoulder hit that was anything but clean from the way the thug''s spine arched backwards. The gun in his hand clattered to the floor as the man flew into a table, the force of his flight sending another gunman to the ground with him. Yeah, they got guns. No need to hold back as much, right? Chest pounding as his insides burned with equal parts anger, rage and pain, Greg spun on his heel and drove a sharp cross into the chest of another before slapping his right palm onto the man''s face, the gangster''s nose shattering with a sound like gravel underfoot. Right.
ABB III: Kung Fury 15/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 275 XP + 425 XP + $410
A strangled scream burst from the man¡¯s throat, the gangster slumping to the ground as the pulse in Greg¡¯s head went off again. He quickly spun away, eyes widening as several links of thick steel rushed towards him in slow motion. A chain? It was, in fact, a length of metal chain. One that was being swung towards Greg''s head at that very moment. ¡°Really? You¡¯ve gotta be joking right now? Don¡¯t you guys have Tinker-Tech?¡± The blond couldn''t help the note of incredulity that made its way into his voice as he lazily ducked the weapon and sneered back at another suit-wearing ABB goon. The man¡¯s face contorted in rage as he pulled his makeshift weapon back and stared Greg down. ¡°How come all I¡¯ve seen so far is guns and chains and that one guy at the beginning with the nun-chucks?¡± Cursing in some language Greg didn¡¯t care about, the goateed man swung his chain wildly, eyes darting around to glance at his armed friends a good distance away, possibly to make sure they didn¡¯t shoot him while taking shots at the blond, before jerking back up to glare at Greg with a good deal of fury in his eyes. ¡°Speaking of that guy with the nunchucks, how¡¯s his knee?¡± Greg asked rhetorically, his voice a mocking laugh as he danced in and out of the chain-wielder¡¯s wild swings. The blond flipped head over heels, turning a quick jump into a backflip as the chain crashed through another table setting, sending the whole thing to the floor as Greg¡¯s feet touched the ground again. ¡°Is he up and running again? I can¡¯t tell. You guys all look the same to me.¡± Mouth open to continue taunting, Greg froze for an instant, blue eyes widening as he quickly sprung back and jumped away from the attack his danger-sense warned him he¡¯s successfully provoked, gaining more ground with a back handspring. A second later, he landed on two feet a few meters away, hands already in fighting position before the chain could swing at him again.This is just too easy.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 24¡ú25 Reflexes Lvl Up! 15¡ú16
A second warning interrupted his own thoughts as the chain spun for his face. With a single raised eyebrow, Greg quickly ducked back and let the thing pass over him. Another pulse went off in his head as Greg watched the incoming weapon, the teen simply stepping to the side of the errant swing only for yet another warning sensation to pass over him. Wait. Why do I keep getting warnings when I can dodge this thing n- ¡°Ahhhhhh!¡± he screamed as bullets hit him in the back. Why couldn¡¯t his danger sense give him a direction?
- 87 - 82 - 91 Status Effect: Moderate Bleeding - 10 Minutes
+ 1 VIT Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 31¡ú32
Je¡­ Jesus¡­ Never stops hurting. He fought the urge to stumble as blood dripped from his shoulder, ringing in his ears ascending to new heights as he bit down on his own tongue to stifle his screams. Despite the pain or maybe because of it, his brain seemed to latch onto something, an idea coming to mind. I get it now. Fighting the urge to throw up, Greg''s head snapped back up with renewed intensity in his gaze as he realized why this one man had been willing to get in close with him with such a ridiculous weapon when so many others had guns. A distraction, huh? I''ll show you something distracting. "Hey, chain guy!"Greg called out, the carefree tone in his voice undercut by the obvious fact that he was obviously forcing it. The man in question gawked as fire burst to life in Greg''s right hand, a small tongue of flame turning into a baseball-sized sphere in under a second. Rearing his hand back, Greg let it fly towards the man who had the balls to come after him with just a chain. "Here''s a ticket to the burn unit!" For a third of a second, Greg let himself be surprised at how rapidly the flame grew as it found something to burn before quickly getting back into gear as he spun away from another hail of bullets.
Basic Pyrokinesis Lvl Up! 3¡ú5
ABB III: Kung Fury 16/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 450 XP + $585 + Red Tie (Bloody) + Steel Chain (15 ft)
Acting quickly before he could be punctured any further, Greg dashed to his right and leapt up, scrambling over the nearest table and overturning it in his wake. The sound of ceramic and silverware clattering against the floor behind him was drowned out by the din of hot lead tearing through wood just moments after. The scattered jackhammer of gunfire tore up the space behind him and motivated Greg to not waste a moment. He continued his mad dash to the largest group of dapper, black-suited ABB thugs that he could see; a group of over half a dozen men looking half-terrified. One of them quickly flicked out his gun, the others still trying to get a bead on Greg as he zig-zagged from side to side with his innate, unnatural speed, doing his best to give those shooting at him from a larger distance something to work for. Blue eyes narrowed to slits as he spotted a finger twitch: the gangster in front was moving to fire his own weapon. Let¡¯s try something out. An intense look in his eyes, Greg Veder halted his movement and came to a sudden stop directly in the middle of the restaurant. Seemingly discarding his evasive tactics, he thrust himself into their line of fire. Wait for it¡­ The surprise on several faces was obvious, each one likely wondering what was going on. That didn''t last all too long as most took aim again. Wait for it¡­ Fingers flexed around triggers. Wait¡­ He felt it coming, of course; that sudden pulse. Expecting it, anticipating it, he was ready when they pulled the trigger. Burst!
- 40
As far as Greg Veder understood, his reinforcement increased his physical abilities by a factor of roughly two and a half, at least when he pushed the current level of it to the maximum. Burst Reinforcement, on the other hand, increased what would already be his maximum while under reinforcement by two and a half again. Granted, it was a bit painful and the enhancement only lasted for about a second, but even then¡­ Greg couldn''t deny that it was worth it. BANG. The sound drove itself into his skull as guns of all sorts fired in unison; hot lead racing at supersonic speeds towards someone who was already gone. With a burst of energy into his legs, the blond exploded forward, body aglow as his speed made the world narrow in his vision. He was already next to his closest targets before they even realized he moved. His fist met the first thug¡¯s torso in an instant, an audible crack signifying contact for the barest of moments before his target went flying ass over teakettle. The second didn¡¯t even see the elbow that collided into his jaw, losing consciousness before he could feel the teeth loosen in his mouth. The next four went down one after the other, struck so fast that they didn¡¯t even realize the cracking sound had been their own ribs until they were more than halfway across the room. Greg intercepted the last thug in his circular firing squad as the Burst died down to nothing, grabbing hold of his arm past the pistol in his hand. He tugged hard on it with both of his own and, ignoring the painful snap sound the limb made as he tugged on it, sent the screaming thug flying in the direction of one of the restaurant¡¯s gilded stairs.
Beginner Combat Lvl Up! 8¡ú10
ABB III: Kung Fury 20/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 300 XP + 375 XP + 400 XP + 425 XP + 300 XP + 300 XP + 275 XP + Achete Loafers (Black) + Hang + Sui Coin On String Necklace + .45cal Pistol w/ Taclight + Silver Desert Eagle (.50 cal) + $715
Greg knew his job wasn¡¯t done. He barely had a moment to relax as nearly a dozen guns appeared from a variety of locations on the second floor and swiveled towards him. ¡°How are there this many guns in the entire city!?¡± he shouted an instant before he moved, the back of his head pounding a warning as bullets raked the walls behind him. Each hole in the wall followed his motion like a trail. Greg screamed in his own head in an attempt to vent some frustration at not even having a moment to catch his breath. Although, it wasn¡¯t like he needed it. He moved like a blur as he jumped, the blond running on air as blue light burst and shattered under his feet with each step. Clearing a gilded railing with one final jump, Greg drove a foot into some poor fool¡¯s face with uncaring ease before flipping backwards to smash a hammer fist into the soft spot high on the temple of nearest gangster¡¯s head.
Mana Platform Lvl Up! 1¡ú3
+ 300 XP + 300 XP + 700 (Bonus) + $150
Danger Sense blared a warning and the blond dropped to the floor, fighting the urge to wince as a hail of bullets passed over his head. These assholes never quit! Jumping to his feet in a rush of motion, Greg chose to ignore the ones he couldn¡¯t reach from here as he darted forward towards the ABB thug nearest him. Just like all the other gangsters Greg had seen in the restaurant, the man in front of him wore a black suit with a red shirt. A bright green tie completed the ensemble. Unlike the last few, though, he held neither a gun nor a chain: the weapon in his hands was nothing but a short rectangular sword. The blond¡¯s shoulders slumped as he sighed, growing sense of annoyed frustration chipping away at his forced cheer. ¡°If you¡¯re gonna attack me with a weapon, could you at least fit the theme?¡± He snorted a moment later as the thug froze, confusion etched across his face. "We''re in a Chinese restaurant. A tanto is Japanese. Come on, it''s sad that I''m the one telling you this." "Shinee!" The scream turned into a charge, the man''s approach almost in slow motion from the cape''s perspective. Just for that, Greg took the time to appreciate the look on stunned rage on the gangster''s face moments before it bled into shocked pain as the bones in his arm snapped in two. Thirty seconds later, the next thug was laid flat, knocked out by three blows to the gut, sternum and nose, before Greg moved on. It was a matter of moments before he was upon the next gangster on the upper-levels and flipped him over the railing, sending him screaming to the piles of shattered furniture and tableware below. Greg cracked his knuckles - main dining area downstairs was cleared. Time for the balcony level. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 25¡ú26 Beginner Combat Lvl Up! 10¡ú12 Basic Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 15¡ú16 Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 32¡ú33 Disarm Lvl Up! 5¡ú6
ABB III: Kung Fury 24/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 300 XP + 400 XP + 300 XP + 375 XP + 375 XP + 425 XP + 850 (Bonus) + 425 XP + 400 XP + 800 (Bonus) + 375 XP + 300 XP + 275 XP + 250 XP + 500 (Bonus) + Aspirazone Dress Suit Pants + Aspirazone Designer Suit (Black and Red) + Tanto (Bloody) + Machine Pistol (Heckler & Koch MP7) + Beretta 92F + Franchi SPAS-12 + M4A1 Carbine + Cambria Pure 24K Scallop Watch + Bruno James Formal Suit + Stiddaroli Formal Shoes (Black) + Jade Necklace
Quest "ABB V: Oriental Ambush" Completed! Gained 12500 XP Gained 2 to [Gunplay: Pistols] Gained 1 to [Gunplay: Rifles] Bonus Objective Failed
You have ruthlessly attacked those who have done harm to you and yours. Title Unlocked: Punisher I Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. You have struck fear into the hearts of opponents on a regular basis. Title Unlocked: Fear Bringer I Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. You have unintentionally ended the lives of multiple opponents. Title Unlocked: Man Slaughter...er I Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your STR has 5% chance of causing instant death.
Level Up! You are now Level 21. Gained 2 Stat Points.
Mob 5.10b Mob 5.10b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 8 Minutes Later ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ¡°Seriously?¡± Greg Veder asked flatly. Behind the mask, the expression on his face as he stared at what stood in front of him was as flat as his tone. A part of him tried to reconcile what he was looking at with the previous events of today and, to Greg¡¯s chagrin, somehow seemed to make it fit. ¡°I¡¯m gonna assume everyone in here is actually in the know about this whole thing. Am I right?¡± No one moved or spoke, telling him everything he needed to know about that. The blond let the silver double doors close behind him, shoulders slumping even further as he realized he¡¯d have to finish this mess now before going anywhere else. Two of their number already lay at his feet, groaning in pain from a simultaneous punch Greg had unleashed into their faces on instinct the second he walked through the door. Glancing back up, he let out a sigh, fists loosening as his arms fell down to his sides, Greg once more repeating the same word as he shook his head. ¡°Seriously.¡± The group of men in all white stood in front of him, cleavers and steak knives in their grasps glinting in the fluorescent light of the kitchen as they held them ready. They had been ready to attack him the moment he entered the kitchen, if two of them launching a surprise attack from both sides implied anything at all. Blue eyes narrowed as Greg focused his attention on the man in front, a bald man with a Fu Manchu of all things, as well as a face so scarred that it would be a chore to determine whether the man was twenty-five or forty-five. He was a big man, with an impressive build that would look more fitting anywhere else but a kitchen. [Observe.]
Leonard "Four Fingers" Wu Lvl 15 ABB Head Chef HP: 320/320 A rather stupid man with no head for anything other than cooking and violence, Wu was in and out of prison for most of his life until he found his place working at Lung''s favorite restaurant. He runs the kitchen crew, each one of them a member of the ABB. Has a habit of removing one finger from each hand of the people he beats up and leaves for dead.
Of course. Greg blinked slowly, not even surprised at the flavor text simply from looking at the man. Of fucking course. The sound of boiling water, simmering sauces and what had to be a steaming kettle sounded off, acting like unintended mood music to set what Greg couldn''t help but feel like a ridiculous stage. None of them moved, each one likely waiting for the cape in front of them to make a move as the blond simply stood there with his arms folded.
Quest Gained! ABB VI: Chop Socky Cooks Details: Defeat the ABB-hired cooks Success: +5000 XP, + 1 [Resistance: Heat], + Ability: [Cooking] Failure: None
Fuck this. Fuck this completely. Greg let out a sigh as he raised his head, giving each single one of the armed cooks and kitchen staff in front of him a glance before opening his mouth. "Look¡­ guys, before you do anything you''ll seriously regret in about thirty¡­thirty?" The blond sighed again, shaking his head. "Yeah, that sounds about right¡­ Before you do anything you''ll regret in about thirty seconds, I''m gonna give each of you one chance. One chance to put down your various cooking implements and just tell me what I want to know." Silence. "I''m offering you a literal once in a lifetime deal." Greg unfurled his arms, opening his hands out in front of him as if offering each one of the grizzled gangster cooks a hug. "It''s either this or spending the next few months in the hospital. Possibly, eating through a straw." Silence. "The burn unit even." Silence. "The morgue is also an option," he continued with a laugh that was not at all forced. "Honestly, today... I''m finding out that I''m really not that picky on the issue." One of them twitched at the casual threat to his continued existence, the serrated knife in his hand visibly shaking. Several others seemed to be reconsidering this entire fight, likely taking note of the few groans of pain still audible from the main dining area. All of that ended the moment Four Fingers shot each one an intense glance, his fingers tensing around the incredibly sharp cleaver in his grip with each man he looked at. Greg sighed at the renewed glare from all of them, realizing what this was going to be. "All right." The blond spread his arms out again, blue eyes flickering with manic intensity as flames burst to life in his open palms. "Don''t say I didn''t warn you about the burn unit." There was a blur of motion and the kitchen echoed with screams. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Exactly 3 Minutes and 32 Seconds Later ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Quest "Chop Socky Cooks" Completed! Gained 5000 XP Gained 1 to [Resistance: Heat] Gained Ability [Cooking]
Basic Pyrokinesis Lvl Up! 5¡ú7 Parry Lvl Up! 9¡ú11 Resistance: Slashing Lvl Up! 16¡ú17 Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 46¡ú47
Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it?
ABB III: Kung Fury 29/40 Lvl 10+ ABB defeated. + 400 XP + 650 XP + 1300 XP (Bonus) + 500 XP + 450 XP + 400 XP + 425 XP + $285 + Four Fingers'' Cleaver + Wok of a Thousand Dishes (Carbon Steel) + Tall Chef Hat (White) + Bloody Apron (White) + Chef Neckerchief (White)
Big Ken Nagaoka was a man who managed to thrive off his own self-hatred. Born to Japanese parents on the island country a good ten years before capes had become more than mere fiction, he rarely had much patience for his own culture, preferring the seductive appeal of Western life. Even now, decades since his arrival in Brockton Bay, he could barely speak Japanese anymore, preferring to use English in almost every single situation. He never cared much for Japanese cuisine even as a child, an attitude that only grew more entrenched as he grew up. His parents had attempted to instill him with a ¡®traditional¡¯ discipline ¡ª forcing him to eat what he didn¡¯t like and blindly obey their every demand. It was no surprise that as soon as an opportunity presented itself, he left Japan behind and never looked back. When he came to America, he thus opened his own Chinese restaurant, almost as much an act of spite as much as it was an act of business. Even when Leviathan turned the island upside down, Ken barely considered it any of his business, so far divorced was he from anything Japanese at that point in his life. His life as a restaurateur in the 80s and 90s was nothing but ostentatious suits, pretty girls and a great deal of other things that his parents would have cursed him for. A shame on the family name, and all that. Frankly, he would have cursed them right back. But as it stood right now, Ken would do anything to be back in Japan, sitting patiently on a tatami mat in seiza as he listened to his parents lecturing him on how he was a failure as a first son. "You know, Ken..." At the very least, he wished he had followed his first instincts and called for back-up. "When I broke down your door¡­ I honestly didn''t expect anyone to be in here," the sentence was accompanied by a sweeping gesture around his office. Located on the third floor of the restaurant, it was outfitted with a very large window behind his rich mahogany desk, allowing him to feel like one of those extremely wealthy businessmen he had only ever seen on TV and in the movies. At least, not before Lung took a shine to him. "But here you were, Big Kenny..." Ken didn''t bother correcting the cape, despite the involuntary flinch he made at the childish twist to his chosen name. His eyes darted over to their periphery, hoping to catch another glimpse of the young cape in almost all black, his curiosity warring with his fear for a moment. The cape must have been through a lot downstairs, Ken could tell that much. If not from the gunmen, then from the kitchen staff, at the very least. Of the would-be vigilantes that occasionally cropped up over the years and earned the ire of the ABB, quite a few had met their end at the hands of those cooks. Handpicked by Lung himself, they were prison-hardened and vicious in ways that Ken would prefer never to have witnessed. The dishwashers by themselves were trained to some degree in martial arts, and every cook and chef were experienced killers. Four Fingers alone was enough to give him nightmares, the man having the worst habit of bleeding traitors and snitches in the kitchens with his special cleaver as well as removing the fingers of those men who made the mistake of failing Lung. The cape''s mask still had bits of pepper stuck to its surface and stray noodles clung to his chest as well, with Ken unable to not notice what was likely clothing damage caused by boiling vegetable oil. An entire sleeve hung loose where it had been obviously cut to ribbons by the kitchen knives and cleavers, drenched with blood, and yet the cape held the gun with casual ease. His boots were drenched in soy sauce, mustard seeds and scraps of half-cooked meat. There were too many bloody holes in his suit for the cape to have not been shot, even amidst the numerous slash marks and tears. On top of everything else, the scent of burnt leather was all too horrifyingly reminiscent of his occasional meeting with his own boss after an unpleasant scrap. And after all that, the cape looked fine. Like he hadn''t been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned, burnt, blinded with pepper and spices, and carved up like a choice fillet of fish. "Here you were¡­ hiding under your desk." The cape scoffed, hand shifting ever so slightly forward and making Ken lean with it as the portly man let out a slight whimper. "Like a bitch." The whimper that left his throat was utterly unintended but the man couldn''t deny that it was a true marker of how he felt right now. "I don''t know a lot about this thing, if I''m gonna be honest," the cape continued further, gesturing with the gun in hand. "Not really." There was an almost glib tone to the way he spoke, almost as if none of this even mattered to him all that much. Ken couldn''t deny the fact that it terrified him almost as much as the weapon in the cape''s hand. "I mean, other than how to aim, shoot and reload, of course. Oh, and how could I forget?" There was a click from the weapon that almost made Ken dive under his desk again, fear instincts nearly overriding common sense. "How to turn off the safety." Big Ken couldn''t manage to fight the trembles that stirred the gun pressed up to the side of his head, the cape in all black holding the weapon firm and steady as he continued to speak. The coldness of the weapon couldn''t be understated, the sensation of it contributing to the ever-approaching specter of death that he could feel in the casual tone of the young parahuman in the room. "I mean, I''m definitely better than you when it comes to actually shooting. I mean, come on. Two shots point blank and I didn''t even move. You shot your own TV, Kenny. That''s¡­ that''s just pathetic." There was a sound like a snort before the cape spoke again. "Frankly, I took the gun away more for your safety than mine." Another whimper passed his lips. "It''s not like I even need a gun, if we''re being honest. But it makes a statement, right?" There was that tone again. "It''s very final¡­ y''know as a symbol." He was going to die soon, he was sure of it. Right here in this chair. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Intimidation Lvl Up! 5¡ú6
Big Ken was going to die soon, Greg was sure of it. Just from the way the man was shaking and the pallor of his face, the blond wouldn''t really be surprised if the fat Japanese man didn''t have a heart attack right in his comfy-looking chair. Despite that, the teen didn''t see it as any reason to stop. "You know, I almost wondered why you didn''t call the police when you heard all those gunshots," Greg continued, standing above the seated businessman with gun in hand. "Then I realized that just how many ABB happen to work for you. Not to mention those guys with the guns." It was almost surprising how the man reacted to that sentence, stiffening up like a statue the way he did. If Greg hadn''t seen it right in front of him, he would have doubted a normal human being could get anywhere near that pale. Greg couldn''t help the smile on his face as the restaurant owner seemed to crumble before his eyes, mouth open as he gasped silently like a fish out of water. "I even found where you keep the guns too. Didn''t take that long either, honest. A minute¡­ Two tops. I mean, not once I got that last cook to crack." After a moment of tense silence, Big Ken finally spoke up for the first time since Greg had dragged him out from under his desk by his feet. "L-look, I only¡­ o-own this place on p-p-paper. It''s a-all over m-my head." "Your point?" "I-I only h-handle the m¡­ the m-money." "Still not getting what your point is, Kenny." "J-jus..." The older man paused as the words trailed away, taking in another shuddered breath before opening his mouth again. "P-p¡­ please d-don''t¡­ don''t kill m-me¡­" Greg''s grip instinctively tightened around the Glock in his hand, the pitiful attempt at begging making him regret actually turning the safety back on. Here he was, trying to be a good guy by fighting the temptation in the first place... "You''re asking a lot from me, Kenny." Greg lifted the gun from the man''s skull, eliciting a relieved sigh from Big Ken for a moment, before quickly lowering the gun to his chin. The look of returning terror only intensified as the blond used the weapon to prod Ken''s face into looking over at him. "Asking a hell of a lot." "O-okay..." "See, your life isn''t worth a thing to me so the million dollar question here is¡­" Greg began with a slow nod, eyes narrowing behind his mask with each word. "What''s it worth to you?"
Intimidation Lvl Up! 6¡ú7 + 1 CHA
Yeah, Greg nodded to himself, he''s nice and ready. Time for the closer. "I-I-I¡­" Big Ken began shaking again, repeating the same syllable over and over like a broken toy. Greg prodded the portly man''s face with the empty weapon again, stilling him into silence with just that. "I don''t have the time to waste on you using your last two brain cells to answer my questions." The slight smirk behind his mask grew, Greg unable to deny that Sparky''s insults were as brutal as they were cutting even when he was the one using them. "Here''s what I want you to do, big man." Using the hand not currently holding a gun, Greg gestured towards the computer on Ken''s desk and cleared his throat. "You''re gonna give me what you have on the ABB." Big Ken drew a shuddering breath, the man''s chin trembling as he began to work his mouth again. "I¡­ I d-don''t," he attempted to speak up, sweat visible as it trailed down his forehead in fat, rain-like drops. "I d-don''t have anything l-l-like th-" The gun under his chin shifted, words vanishing as Ken began to gasp again. "Don''t give me that, Ken. I know you have something. Their bases, where they keep their weapons, I want it all printed out." The blond paused for a moment, tilting his head to the side before adding, "Preferably in twelve point font." "P-please. I¡­ I h-have a f-family." "And I''m sure they''ll miss you." Greg found the humor disappearing from his tone as Big Ken continued to beg, his hand raising the weapon back to the man''s temple. Big Ken didn''t take very long to decide after that. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
+ $485,675
With a sigh, Greg Veder landed on the golden-tiled rooftop, his reinforced jump providing just enough power to let him make the leap from ground level with ease. With over two hours left till sunset, it was clear to see that the city in general was pretty much still a mess, plumes of smoke still dotting the skyline across the Bay. Despite that, Greg couldn''t deny that he felt a good deal better about the situation now than he had several hours ago.. Really, he had the big man to thank for that. While Big Ken had admitted ¡ª admittedly, under duress ¡ª that a good chunk of the documents he had in his possession were mostly just false leads, a lot of it consisting of nothing but listings of empty warehouses and abandoned office buildings to keep the police and PRT off their trail, he had been knowledgeable enough about the ABB to offer up some other prime information. In fact, the restaurateur went so far as to personally write out some locations for Greg to go after, admitting that he knew of these because he had been there in person. If that wasn''t enough, Big Ken was even willing to open his personal office safe to the young cape, trusting Greg with all the money that was to be laundered through his restaurant for the month. Truly, the man was dedicated to bringing the ABB to justice. In the end, Greg almost felt bad about leaving him tied up in his office for police to find, office computer open to the most incriminating documents the man had to offer. Almost. With all this in mind, it was a much more relaxed Greg Veder that crouched in his usual pose on one of the four golden dragons that fit the place¡¯s name. It had been at most two minutes since he called the police, but, while the blond still intended to wait and make sure the ABB were all arrested, he didn¡¯t expect them to arrive anywhere within thirty minutes. Letting out another sigh, Greg lowered the bottom of his balaclava and visibly relaxed as the brisk New England air met his skin, the scent of Chinese food carried by the breeze a pleasant addition. Or maybe that''s just me, Greg thought to himself a moment later. With the slightest roll of his eyes at the thought, the blond allowed himself a slight smile only for the expression to freeze on his face as he glanced back at the skyline, open hands shifting to fists at his side as he spotted a multitude of explosions tear through several buildings just a few blocks away. What the f- The colorful detonations and distortions in space surrounding what appeared to be normal flames dotting the entire block only confirmed what he knew of the Tinker explosives. However, it raised another question. An important question. "Why would the ABB set off bombs in their¡­ " He muttered the words to himself as he stared, almost transfixed in his confusion. "...in their own t-" The words disappeared from his mind, Greg''s train of thought derailing entirely as a railroad spike worth of pain drove itself directly into the base of his skull and a set of blue eyes widened in sudden alarm. His body tensed and Greg recoiled, the blond instinctively recoiling away from incoming danger as a backwards dive immediately became a flip towards the center of the roof. The moment he landed upright, an overhead light seared itself into his vision like a microcosm of the sun itself, forcing him to shut his eyes. The instant he did, Greg Veder felt the world slow down, mouth open in a silent scream as something violently slammed into him with immense speed. -258 The teen felt his chest buckle inwards, breath vanishing as his heart pounded frantically against his screaming ribcage. Blue eyes sprang open to face the light, Greg suddenly faced with the realization that the ground had vanished from beneath his feet. With that thought in mind, Greg Veder could only stare in shock as he fell to the unforgiving asphalt below. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 21 Experience 12000/35000
Health 1409/1667
Mana 505/505
Willpower 573/573
STR 66 SPD 63 (+2)
VIT 98 INT 51
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 25 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 27
Perk Points 1
Cash $505,700.82
Traits If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Catch Your Breath Endurance is patience concentrated. After forcing yourself to move under extenuating circumstances for a long period of time, your willpower recovery rate has doubled. (1 Will per 5 Seconds) Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Basic Aerokinesis Lv 16 "Winds, guard me!" Exert the force of your air control over a range of 40 meters. Grows by 10 mph and 2.5 meters every other level. (160 mph) Cost: 20 mp per second of sustained use at max range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 7 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 5 meters. Increases in range by 1 meter every other level. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 3 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 14 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 21 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (155%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (750%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 26 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Mana Lv 11 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of Mana, the spiritual energy found within the human mind and soul. Gaining awareness of your magical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 12 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (24%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 5 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Intimidation Lv 4 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (4%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 11 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (22%) Reflexes Lv 15 DODGE! Decreases innate reaction time by 10% per level and increases innate perception speed by the same amount.(150%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 64 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (48%) Resistance: Cold Lv 6 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (6%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 47 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (47%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 33 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (23%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 17 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (12%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 10 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (20%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Mob 5.11 Mob 5.11 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 19, 2011 5:12 PM
-258 [Status Effect: Cracked Ribs] - 20 Minutes
His mouth was open in a silent gasp, blue eyes wide with pain as Greg struggled to process the situation. The ground had vanished under his feet before he could even blink and all Greg could do was as what felt like a cannonball struck his torso, an instinctive attempt at reinforcing his body shattering under his scattered focus. Sent flying into the air at startling speed, it took Greg a moment to recover from the blow. The abrupt shock from the pressure wave warring with simple fear. Greg''s limbs flailed before he suddenly went rigid, the subtle calm of Gamer''s Mind making its presence known. The jackhammer that was his pounding heart slowed to something approaching normal. Awareness of his situation came too late to do much, though.
-34
Even with a quickened perception of time, the impact came far too fast for him to react to. His back hit the asphalt with a jarring force that rocked his body. A pained groan spilled from his lips the second he hit the ground, but Greg kept moving all the same. With ingrained skill, the blond quickly shifted the momentum of the harsh fall into a hurried roll before jumping back to his feet with a sense of urgency that only the fear of death could bring. Shit! As urgent as the situation was, Greg couldn''t shake off the pain as quickly as he would like. Something about this injury made the pain persist despite his power''s usual quick recovery, and Greg recalled the status effect that flashed in front of him as he fell for a moment. God¡­ Goddammit¡­ what was that? Throwing one hand out to the side to catch his balance as he stumbled backwards on unsteady legs, Greg simply held his chest for a few seconds, trying his very best to force air into his pained lungs. The mouth and nose-enclosing portions of his balaclava, like a good portion of his costume was in complete tatters, barely held together by more than two or three pieces of thread. While that would normally be cause for annoyance, Greg couldn''t help but appreciate the fact that it let him gulp down desperately needed air. Seriously¡­ what hit me¡­ like that? Still gasping for air, Greg forced himself to stare back up towards the restaurant''s roof, hoping to catch sight of what struck him so hard. Instead, he found himself stepping back in shock, mouth agape at the sight of the building. Or rather, what remained of it. Whatever had sent him flying had apparently done far worse to the building he had just been on. The entire roof and a good chunk of the third floor was just... gone.The only remnants of what had once been there lay scattered all across the asphalt in front of the building, coating the street in a carpet of golden tiling and other scattered detritus. But the building''s destruction wasn''t as heart-stopping as what Greg spotted next. He forgot his injuries entirely as he scrambled back again, nearly stumbling on the rubble-covered street. All the while, the cause of his shock stared down at him, hair buffeting around the brilliant source of light that hid her face from the world. As she hovered several meters above the wrecked restaurant, body aglow with the incandescence of a sun in miniature, one wouldn''t be faulted for thinking she might have been an angel. Unfortunately, that wasn''t the case. Oh¡­
Those Wacky Nazis II: Movers and Shakers¡­ and Blasters Details: Survive an encounter with the Empire 88''s best. Success: Highly increased reputation with the Empire 88, +12500 XP, + 5 Stat Points Failure: Death/Conscription into the Empire Bonus: Gain the respect of your attackers.
Greg''s jaw snapped back together with a click, teeth slamming into each other. Oh no. The blond twitched, the back of his head pulsing a repeated warning as he stared up at Purity with wide, blue eyes. His fingers trembled as he saw the Empire cape begin to move, her floating form drifting over the wrecked rooftop that Greg couldn''t help but shudder at. She must have barely missed me, Greg reasoned to himself, taking several unsteady steps back as Purity slowly floated closer towards the street below. Either that or¡­ His body sprung into overdrive as the warning in his head suddenly screamed for his attention. He shot backwards, body twisting into a powerful somersault as some sort of distortion in the air rushed beneath him with alarming speed. The screech of tearing metal tore into his ears as the distortion passed, and the boy''s eyes widened as another warning sounded off in his skull an instant later.
-67 -53 -49 -31 -21 -19 [Status Effect: Severe Bleeding] - 10 Minutes
Resistance: Slashing Lvl Up! 17¡ú18
A strained hiss forced itself through gritted teeth as an explosion solely made up of razor blades tore through his right side, blood sent flying as it ate through his costume just as easily as it did skin. Greg Veder dropped to the ground in an uncontrolled heap, body a twitching mess amid blood-stained rubble. The white of his ribs stood out amid blood and viscera so fresh that it did not belong anywhere outside of the confines of a human body. Yet despite all this, Greg didn''t scream. No, instead, vicious growls left his open mouth as the blond clawed mindlessly at the wreckage surrounding him. Blue eyes remained unblinkingly wide behind the remains of a silver skull mask, tears welling up inside them as the blond continued to thrash like a wounded animal. A sound like a thousand glass windows shattering at once rung out and he screamed as something slammed into him and then so much¡­ So much¡­
[Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder] negated by Gamer''s Mind
Greg Veder flipped back onto his feet, angry heat surging through his skull as both hands curled at his sides like claws. Raw, vibrant flames burst to life around each limb, engulfing the both of them before pooling into fireballs in his palms that quickly ate away at what remained of his gloves. Mouth open in a wordless shout, he turned to face the direction his most recent surprise attack had come from. His cry only escalated in volume as he spotted his target, transforming into a roar as the shirtless man drew his arm back. Greg bared his teeth and ignored the furious pounding in his skull in lieu of quickly jerking to the side to let the collection of distorted air pass by him. Raising his hands, the blonde shot balls of fire forward with intensity that he had never given it before, searing spheres of flame appearing ex nihilo from his outspread palms and launching themselves at high speed.
Basic Pyrokinesis Lvl Up! 7¡ú8
A wall of that same distorted air formed once more in front of Greg''s shirtless target, the fire dissipating from the blond''s palms as he suddenly launched himself forward, screaming all the while. Behind him, two bright helixes of white light lanced into the ground where he stood, each creating a new crater in the process. Greg paid it no mind as he moved, screaming as he swerved around another ripple in the air. The man in chains dropped his barrier and made to run, words leaving his mouth that Greg couldn''t bring himself to care to understand. From behind, the blond leapt, pouncing over a discarded wooden beam and the remnants of a golden dragon sculpture with cat-like grace to wrap his arms around the man''s neck. As they fell to the ground in a pile, Greg tightened his grip, muscles tensing as he began to pu-
[Mindless Rage] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Thoughtless anger faded away, replaced by an unflinching calm as Greg took in his surroundings for an instant. As his brain caught up enough to recall the events of the last few seconds, that calm was quickly replaced by confusion¡­ which was then overtaken by frustration. "...whaaaat theee fuuuuuuck?" The words left him in a low whisper as he realized just who he was currently restraining in what could only be described as a prone sleeper hold. "Stormtiger?" The man let out a wet gurgling sound as Greg''s arm tightened around his neck, the look in his eyes both frantic and murderous as he continued to thrash. Whether it was the sudden lack of oxygen, the pain of the hold or just simple humiliation, the cape continued his protest as best as he could, voice limited to nothing but errant choking noises. While the sounds of a windpipe being slowly crushed did little to answer his question, the wind currently buffeting around the both of them as well as the signature half-mask and chains wrapped across the man''s torso told Greg all he needed to know. The blond shook his head in bewildered annoyance at the situation in front of him and shot another glance up in the sky as he kept his arm-lock tight around Stormtiger''s throat. What now, bitch? Can''t risk blasting me again, can you? The focus of Greg''s current attention, Purity hung just meters above the street itself. The glare from her power died down, making her somewhat easier to look at as she drew closer. Greg let out a breath he hadn''t been aware he was holding as he noted ¡ª with no small amount of relief¡ª that her arms were crossed over her chest. Okay, at least she''s definitely not gonna blast me now. On that note, Greg began to drag himself up to his feet, pulling the shirtless villain up with him by his neck as the man desperately clawed and struggled against the teen''s iron grip and encroaching death by asphyxiation. The wind continued to furiously beat at the both of them, but Greg ignored it, as it seemed that Stormtiger couldn''t generate anything truly powerful from this angle. After all, anything the cape could do to him was next to nothing compared to the slowly fading pain of the gaping hole in his side or the ever-present and continuously oppressive vise in his chest that was his damaged ribs. Not the worst I''ve ever been, though, Greg noted calmly, a defiant glare firmly on his face as he fixed his gaze on Purity. So, there''s that going for me. "Listen," Greg began, his raised voice only slightly strained as Purity finally came to a stop a little under a dozen feet high and several yards away. "I have been doing my very best not to lose my head this whole day. I''ve tried to keep calm. I''ve tried to act¡­ normal, for what little it''s worth. But if you make a single move, I will turn his face into my favorite type of steak." Despite being unable to actually see a change of expression on the glowing cape''s face due to her luminosity, Greg could almost feel the air of confusion wafting off of her as he finished speaking. Stormtiger''s attempts at escape only doubled as Greg spoke, the cape''s fingers frantically pulling and clawing at the reinforced limb flush against his windpipe. Greg spoke up again in an attempt to clarify his previous statement, carefully adjusting his arms until one of his open palms was held directly in front of the aerokinetic''s face. "Well done." Purity''s head moved, the cape nodding her head as she spoke up with a surprisingly restrained, "I understand." "Great to hear! So, what''s this all about?" Greg finally asked, forcing cheer into his tone once again. "I mean, one attack from behind, I can forgive. Two¡­ well, accidents happen. Three on the other hand," Greg gave the glowing woman a sharp smile as he flexed his arms around Stormtiger''s neck, loosening just enough for the man to take in a lungful of air and re-tightening his hold a quick second later. "Three feels like you''re trying to kill me." "Listen, there''s a misunderstanding here," Purity began, her voice far meeker than Greg would expect from someone as imposing and powerful as she seemed. "There is?" Greg blinked, smile dipping slightly. His confusion grew slightly as he stared at Purity, the edge he believed he had in the form of Stormtiger''s life possibly no longer the bargaining chip he thought it was. Stay confident. Bluff it out. "Le¡­ let¡­ g¡­!"
-17
"Okay. T-tell me, then," Greg answered back, voice jumping an octave as Stormtiger''s continued struggling managed to force an elbow into his partially exposed side. A jerk of his arm and a sudden pull forced the animal-themed cape to rise up off his knees slightly, choking noises redoubled as the villain''s face began to redden in earnest all over again. Directing the next sentence to his captive parahuman, Greg snarled a warning. "Bad kitty."
Taunt Lvl Up! 10¡ú11
Not even bothering to wait for so much as a nod in return, Greg did his best to ignore the renewed pain from the wound as he turned his gaze back up to a silent Purity. "I¡­ shit¡­ I don''t hear an explanation." "Look¡­ we¡­ What we assumed was¡­" Purity hesitated for a moment, unfolding and refolding her arms as - Greg assumed - she tried to get her words together. "The two of us w-" The glowing woman paused again as Stormtiger renewed his struggling efforts, desperate to get a word out as he forced himself to speak up. "I¡­ Ihwaa¡­ accide-" This attempt was met with another flexing movement by Greg, the blond tightening the hold just that much more as he growled a response into Stormtiger''s ear. "Shut. Up." Taking the moment to speak again, Purity continued. "The two of us were heading down here to¡­ look for something..." Greg raised an eyebrow at that, his gaze flicking over to the half-wrecked Chinese restaurant just at the end of the street. Were they doing what I think... "...when I saw you on top of the building and¡­" "And?" Greg''s smile vanished entirely, his grip unconsciously getting tighter around Stormtiger''s windpipe as he rose to his full height. "And what? You saw me up there and you thought you''d take potshots at some cape kid ''cause you could?" "No!" Purity''s forceful shout threw him off guard, the woman sounding oddly sincere with the amount of emotion she put into the single syllable. "It wasn''t like that. I just assumed..." "Assumed what?" Greg snapped, taking a few steps back. Stormtiger''s body came with, the man barely struggling anymore as he took in quick, sharp breaths where he could, having realized he wasn''t going to escape the hold under his own power. "Listen¡­ k-kid," Stormtiger began, voice barely above a strained whisper from the tightness of Greg''s hold. "It¡­ w-" "Not you, Nazi. Her, Nazi." Purity shifted in the air as she darted a bit closer, putting Greg on guard as her glow brightened slightly. The blond was ready to drop Stormtiger the second she aimed, not really caring if the Empire cape died so long as he didn''t. "I assumed you were Oni Lee and I acted accordingly," she finally replied, voice losing nearly all of the meekness it had possessed previously. Now, Greg could see the villain standing in front of him, the voice finally completing the entire package. Sadly, he didn''t have time to appreciate that, far too caught up with Purity''s last words. "Oni Lee?" The blond scoffed, lips pulled back in an unintended sneer. "You seriously thought I was¡­ Do I look like Oni Lee to you?" "From behind, yes," Purity replied, tone intimidatingly even. "Your costumes are¡­ similar." Note to self: remodel secondary costume. A single blue eye twitched beneath a shattered half-mask along with the thought. "I guess we both wear black, suuuure, but you know what¡­" Greg''s smile popped back into place as if it never left, grin wide and bright despite the blood on his teeth. "You might be right. I''ll give you benefit of the doubt¡­ y''know as long as you don''t try to kill me again." "Agreed," Purity shot back, voice gaining a tone of urgency. "Now, would you mind releasing Stormtiger?" Greg raised an eyebrow before glancing back at the cape in question, the musclebound man''s face on the verge of turning an uncomfortable purple hue by this point. "Not sure I can do that. See, he''s my collateral. How do I know you won''t laser me soon as I let him go?" "You have my word that I won''t attack you unless you try and attack us," Purity responded, her voice brimming with the confidence of someone who believed they actually made a good point. Greg was silent for a few seconds, blinking at that declaration. Realizing that she had actually said something that dumb, Greg couldn''t quite repress a snort as he replied. "Yes, because if there''s anyone considered a paragon of trust and honesty, it would be a supervillain...ess." "That''s¡­ fair, I suppose," Purity replied, her voice level as ever. "I understand why you might feel the way you do." "I really don''t think you do." This time, he actually did laugh. "You already blasted me and then this guy tries to wind claw me to death. Fuck. Both of you. Seriously." Greg paused, shaking his head for a moment before continuing on. "Then you say, ''You have my word.'' Wow, the villains who tried to kill me are now saying they won''t if I give them another free shot. That sounds like a great idea. Not." Greg rolled his eyes, letting out another snort as he did so. He partially regretted that a moment later, given the immense amount of wood dust and brick shards floating through the air. "Jesus, you might as well be a pedo fresh out of jail trying to get a job as a nanny by promising not to diddle any more kids. I mean, c-" "Alright!" Purity audibly inhaled, her glow visibly brightening. "Your point is made, alright. Just¡­ just tell me what you want." Blue eyes narrowed at the glowing woman in the sky, several questions on the tip of Greg''s tongue. Rather than ask them, the blond decided to seek answers another way. [Observe.]
Purity Lvl 70 Title: Queen of Light HP: 235/235 Long-time member of the Empire 88, Purity is known all over Brockton Bay as the ''Queen of the Empire'', much in the same way Kaiser is king. With blasts strong enough to level buildings, she''s a serious threat and one of the most dangerous capes in Brockton Bay off of sheer firepower and speed alone. Attempting to turn over a new leaf but still pretty racist.
"... Nah, I''m good." With that said, Greg let go of Stormtiger and jumped back, letting the man drop to the floor to the audible surprise of both capes. Pushing himself up to all fours, the shirtless cape coughed and heaved as he greedily took in air, burly chest expanding and contracting to its limits. Casting a shocked glance up at Greg, one hand cradled the growing bruises on his neck as the villain tried his best not to make his backwards scramble away from the younger cape look like the actions of a man terrified for his life. Purity herself let out a small noise of surprise at her partner''s release, radiance fading from what it once was to a more manageable gleam. The woman glided forward, dropping several feet until she hovered only a few yards away from Greg, Stormtiger still on the floor behind her. "But you just-" "Yeah-yeah-yeah," Greg waved her words off with a roll of his eyes as he dropped both hands to his sides again. "I know what I said but I really don''t have the time to stretch this out any further. I came out here to hunt down ABB, to stop the bombings¡­ not choke out a dude dressed like a pro wrestler." The blond fought the urge to wince again, his side twinging as his HP continued it''s slow upward crawl. As much as I would like to, that''s not what I''m here for. As if on cue, Stormtiger let out another ragged wheeze, a hand still on his neck as he supported his weight on the rubble-laden asphalt. Apart from tilting her head to glance down at him, her facial features still hidden by her ever-present glow, Purity paid the man even less mind than Greg did, turning back to him to ask, "ABB? You''ve been hunting down ABB?" What does she care? Greg narrowed his gaze, eyes darting between a slowly recovering Stormtiger and Purity''s hovering form, slight frown exposing his suspicion. "...Yeah. Yeah, I have. Hell, right before you blew up that roof, I just took down a couple dozen of them using that restaurant as a front." This time, Purity actually turned her head completely, giving the aforementioned building a once-over before turning back to Greg just as quickly. "Hmm, we suspected as much. I didn''t expect anyone else to be taking the fight to the ABB so quickly, though." Greg didn''t bother to hide the derisive snort that left him at Purity''s words. "So quickly? I''ve been at this since one in the morning. This is the third base I''ve taken down today. Where have you been?" "Busy." Stormtiger''s voice was raspy from the abuse his neck had taken, but he was speaking with surprising clarity. Greg tensed; the man was once more on his own two feet, and was stretching his neck and shoulder muscles back and forth in a way that screamed ''threat.'' "That''s nice. I mean, I guess you guys were too caught up with¡­" Greg scoffed, rolling his eyes, "I dunno, cleaning out attics, to fight the assholes bombing the city you live in or even do anything about it. Whatever." He shook his head again and began to turn around, marginally reinforced body already poised to dodge the instant his Danger Sense flared even the slightest of warnings. He had barely taken more than two steps when a call from behind caught his attention. Greg glanced over his shoulder, gaze darting over Stormtiger back up to Purity, one arm outstretched toward him. For a moment, he tensed to run, but,with nothing giving him a sense of warning, the young cape forced a breath out and remained still. "What?" Purity spoke up again, floating just the slightest bit closer. "I''ve been taking the fight to the ABB myself an-" "We." Stormtiger interjected, strained voice slowly regaining the rich, smug depths that Greg had found himself dreading weeks ago. He glanced up at Purity, mouth set in a flat line as he gave her a meaningful look. "We are taking the fight to the ABB and someone like you¡­ A Brute and a Blaster, y''know, could make the job a looot easier." Again with this guy? Jesus. Greg felt his eye twitch again at the absurdity of three recruitment pitches in a month from the same cape. "...Nah, I''m good on my own." Greg''s quick rejection didn''t seem to deter Stormtiger much at all, the cape taking one step forward with seemingly renewed confidence. "You sure about that, kid?" "What part of nah do you not get?" Greg shot back, frustration more than annoyance tinging his voice with just the slightest heat. "I''m best as a solo act. As in, by myself." "But if y-" "Dude¡­ fuckin''... Jesus, I don''t want your help," Greg quickly interjected, stopping the aerokinetic before he could build up momentum. He threw his hands up in the air with an exasperated sigh. "I literally could not want it less. You couldn''t even pay me to consider it." "You can talk tough all you want, little man," Stormtiger rumbled, voice already recovered and just as clear as ever, "but everybody could use some backup." "Huh." Greg rolled his eyes and faked a yawn, the blond patting his open mouth with one hand. "I get that. Anywho, you guys just do your own thing. I''m sure you''ll be fine." After a moment, he shrugged and with a click of his tongue, added, "And if you''re not, well¡­ that wasn''t really my problem in the first place." "You''re not getting the point, are you?" Stormtiger began again, clearly working himself up to deliver some kind of Nazi After-School Special message. "Y-" "Just let it go, Stormtiger!" Purity spoke up, an exasperated sigh leaving her as she shook her head. Her voice rang with a sense of command, Greg recognizing it as the way people spoke when they expected to be listened to. "We"re leaving. He''s made his choice already." "Wow, one of you finally gets it," Greg answered back, drawing out the sentence. "If you were any slower on the uptake, you''d probably have to kill yourselves considering¡­ well, yaknow¡­" From how quickly Purity''s head snapped back to him, Greg had to imagine that if it wasn''t for the glow obscuring the entirety of her face, he''d be on the receiving end of quite the impressive glare right now. While her attempt at glaring him down didn''t do much to worsen his mood, what she said next did the trick. "You''ve got two minutes, Stormtiger. Use them wisely." Fuck. "Listen, kid," Greg directed his attention back at Stormtiger as the muscular villain pointed a finger at him. The man''s voice seemed to deepen by another octave as he spoke, his pose so resembling an overblown anime tough-guy to Greg''s mind that it nearly made him snort. "This ain''t a regular fight. These crazy fucks are terrorists and they''ve made that shit clear when they put their fucking bombs everywhere." Stormtiger dropped his arms to his sides as he began to pace the width of the street, the air visibly flaring around him as he stared back at Greg with a gaze so intense that the younger cape couldn''t doubt the man believed what he was saying completely. "Everyone in this city got family to protect from these monsters. They''re the ones who made this shit personal! They''re the ones bombing hospitals! They''re the ones killing kids! It''s a war against these chinks and they fucking started it. People like us... Shit, it''s our god-given duty to end it." ...Fuck. As Stormtiger finished his spiel, Greg stood there saying nothing as he stared daggers at the Empire cape in front of him. It said a good deal about how much the man''s words had struck a chord with him that Greg was seriously considering getting their help even if only to bring this whole fucked up situation to an end that much quicker. Well played, Nazi. Well played. Thankfully, it said just as much that Greg also felt like punching himself in the face for even thinking something like that. Not in a million years, though. "You know what... " Greg began slowly, Stormtiger and Purity visibly leaning in with some anticipation. "Maybe if you had found me around sunrise, I''d still be pissed off enough to jump in with you¡­ at least for a little bit. Hell, I''m pretty sure I was angry enough to cut a deal with the Slaughterhouse if they would get me what I wanted." Pausing, Greg let out a low breath and closed his eyes, only to reopen them a moment later. "That was twelve hours ago, though and I''ve had a lot of time to get my head together." As true as that was, Greg didn''t bother to add in the fact that it hadn''t exactly been by choice. While Gamer''s Mind hadn''t been rearing its head much over the past day, his repeated rejection of it early this morning seeming to keep it at bay, he couldn''t help but face the fact that the skill was constantly active; a passive that he couldn''t fully turn off, no matter how hard he tried. By the time he got to the first base, he could feel his rage fading and fading until eventually, it became something that couldn''t really be called rage anymore. He hated it. Still, it wasn''t like he couldn''t feel any anger at all. What he woke up with consumed every inch of him, screaming for him to hurt someone but what he had now... It was almost content to remain firmly at its place in the back of his mind, only spiking with every ABB he spotted. It was easier to deal with, Greg reasoned, if not what he preferred. Even now, Greg knew that Gamer''s Mind was working under the surface, doing its best to keep him from pissing himself over the fact that he was facing someone who was basically the zero-calorie version of Legend himself. As much as he was beginning to despise it, the skill was damn persistent when it came to preventing anything someone could consider mental trauma. If he really thought about it, Greg supposed that being filled with homicidal rage for long periods of time counted as traumatic¡­ even if only technically. "Since then," Greg shook his head as he spoke up again, "I''ve gone through three ABB hideouts and a bunch of random thugs on the street and you know what I learned?" You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. "I assume you''re going to tell us anyway," Purity commented drily. Greg didn''t even bother to pause, ignoring Purity''s comment as he kept on speaking. "I learned that there''s only so many pointless mooks you can mow down before you realize that none of this matters! These guys are just random thugs and without a boss, they''re nothing. You''re talking about fighting a war like I''m supposed to eat that up? These shitheads are literally nothing. They''re only confident because of their capes. I get that it took me a few hours to get over myself but you''ve been at this for years. What''s your excuse?" Greg took an angry step forward, his right foot crushing some half-broken piece of red brick to dust in his anger. "Go fight Lung if you want to get something done! I don''t need your help in fighting random thugs and considering you,"Greg pointed to Purity, "can take down buildings and you," his pointer finger shifted to Stormtiger, "can tear a car open with your powers, you sure as hell don''t need mine." Purity''s hands clenched into fists, her glow brightening as Greg finished speaking while Stormtiger just stared, eyes like ice behind his white tiger mask. Greg stared back, fingers flexing as he waited for the slightest pulse of danger to hit him, ready to fight or run at a moment''s notice. The tension in the air suddenly vanished as Stormtiger let out a short bark of laughter, the man''s shoulders actually shaking as he turned away from Greg for a moment. The older cape shook his head, his feet stomping the ground as his belly laugh died down. "You got guts, kid. I''m not gonna lie, I couldn''t give two shits about you being a Brute or not..." A wide grin spread across the villain''s face as he rubbed his chin. "I just wanna see how you fight for real. You ever change your mind, the offer''s on the table." Greg tilted his head and shot Stormtiger an unamused look, the frayed fabric of his gloves tightening around his fingers as he flexed them. "Look¡­ I''m going to repeat the same thing I told you the first time we met," Greg growled back, patience already frayed. "It''s kinda racist that just ''cause I look a certain way, you assume I''m down with the Empire." Stormtiger froze at that, mouth forming a small ''o'' as he stared at Greg. None of this went unnoticed by either Purity or Greg. "Wait a minute, you''ve met already?" asked Purity, sounding more and more confused with each word. This entire conversation had likely been a lesson in patience for the woman. "Stormtiger, you know him?" "I think¡­" Stormtiger was silent for a second or two, his grin vanishing as he took a slight step forward. "I''m thinking I do¡­" A moment later, a set of bright white teeth were on display again, the expression seeming almost forced as the cape stared him down. "Fuck me, you''re that same kid, aren''t you?" "Yep." Greg shot, fingers flexing again as his frown stayed in place. "Guilty as charged." A glint appeared in Stormtiger''s gaze as he took a calm step back, chains making some slight noise as he straightened shoulders. "Branching out from the druggies to the chinks, huh?" The amusement in his voice didn''t go unnoticed and neither did the villain''s eyes, Greg frowning even more as Stormtiger''s gaze seemed to trail over the blood splatters on his costume. "And you''ve definitely been busy since last time." A laugh spilled from the man''s throat, Stormtiger''s grin a rictus of excitement as he nodded his head. "How many?" The younger cape shut his eyes at the question, Stormtiger''s words dripping with context that Greg wished he could act like he didn''t understand. Just answer him. Worst case scenario, he wants to fight you. Best case, he leaves. He grit his teeth as he glanced up at Stormtiger''s face again, still glaring daggers at the Empire cape. "... Enough." Another barking laugh came pouring out, the sound swelling like an orchestra as Stormtiger clapped his hands like a proud dad at a baseball game. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! I know killer instinct when I see it. You''ve got the blood lust, kid. You can hide it all you want but you''ve got it!" Greg didn''t reply this time, staying quiet as Stormtiger let out another laugh just on the edge of manic, the man still wearing his grin. Still hovering above, Purity''s head continued to flick between the two of them, the woman likely wishing someone would clue her in to the nature of the conversation. As his laughter petered out, the tiger-themed villain turned his back to Greg and waved up at Purity. "Sorry about that, boss lady. Looks like you were right. The kid''s made his choice." "Just like that?" From the tone of her voice, Purity was unconvinced. "And you weren''t convinced when I told you the same before why?" Stormtiger glanced over his shoulder at Greg, grin ratcheting up a few notches. "With us or not, he''s cutting down the competition. Let''s leave the kid to his work." "Whatever." Just like that, Stormtiger leapt up to a rooftop and quickly thrust himself into the air with a burst of wind that Greg could feel from as far away as he was. Purity turned to give him one more parting glance and vanished herself in a burst of light that had Greg blinking the dots from his eyes. The teen stared up at them, mouth still turned down in a scowl. The sound of sirens in the distance, as faint as they were, didn''t go unnoticed. Greg had to wonder if they were here because of his call or because of the Empire. Not like it matters, anyway. The scowl he wore only deepened as a series of screens popped up in front of him, the words on them doing very little to make him feel better.
Quest "Those Wacky Nazis II: Movers and Shakers¡­ and Blasters" Completed! Gained highly increased reputation with the Empire 88 Gained 12500 XP Gained 5 Stat Points Bonus: Gained + 2 CHA, Gained + 10 to [Basic Aerokinesis], Gained Skill: [Mana Bolt]
Adept Aerokinesis Skill Unlocked Basic Aerokinesis ¡ú Adept Aerokinesis Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Ability Unlocked Awareness: Mana ¡ú Manipulation: Mana (Limited)
Adept Aerokinesis Lv 1 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP
Spitting out a chunk of blood onto the street, Greg Veder raised the back of a hand to wipe his mouth and began to run in the opposite direction of Stormtiger and Purity, mind clouded with another set of uncomfortable thoughts. "Fuckin'' Nazis." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 21 Experience 24500/35000
Health 1269/1667
Mana 480/505
Willpower 522/573
STR 66 SPD 63 (+2)
VIT 98 INT 51
WIS 18 (-70%) CHA 27 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 32
Perk Points 1
Cash $505,700.82
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Catch Your Breath Endurance is patience concentrated. After forcing yourself to move under extenuating circumstances for a long period of time, your willpower recovery rate has doubled. (1 Will per 5 Seconds) Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Quick Healer Don''t worry, it won''t scar. You heal rather fast, at a rate of a tenth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Toughened Body Charles Atlas would be proud. Simply put, you''re already tougher than most people. Now, well, look at the title of this perk. All physical damage is reduced by half your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Adept Aerokinesis Lv 1 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 8 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 6 meters. Increases in range by 1 meter every other level. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 11 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 3 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 14 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 21 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (155%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
    • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second
    • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (750%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 26 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 12 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (24%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 5 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (6%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 3 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (15%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (6%) Intimidation Lv 4 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (4%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 11 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (22%) Reflexes Lv 15 DODGE! Decreases innate reaction time by 10% per level and increases innate perception speed by the same amount.(150%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 64 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (48%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 47 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (47%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 33 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (23%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 11 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (22%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Implacable Cutscene: Implacable ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 19, 2011 6:42 PM The walls of the foyer were a pale pastel color, that same sort of vague shade between purple and pink that left one spending inordinate amounts of time just trying to figure out exactly which hue it more closely belonged to. Decorating those pastel walls were paintings of vague flowery environments done in a decidedly Korean style. Fully fleshing out the atmosphere were several containers of lit incense, each one releasing distracting whorls of smoke that soon faded. The lobby could be considered one of class, yet its patrons were decidedly the opposite. The brightly lit waiting room was full of ABB, each one wearing a disgruntled look that seemed to fit their faces more than any other expression. Very few women maintained a presence in the room, several of them giggling on the lap of grown men and acting in such a way that they fit the definition of girl far more aptly. For the other, she was undoubtedly a woman and by appearance, a strong one; the scowl on her face powerful enough to match any of the much more physically intimidating male figures crowding the lobby. Most in the area knew the older woman as ''Jo'', an experienced businesswoman who had made the move to Brockton Bay from Boston years back just to open up her own day spa and massage parlor. Everyone else, however, knew her as simply ''Mama-san''. Behind what looked like a raised receptionist''s desk, Mama-san sat there staring daggers with a drink in one hand and a cigarette holder in the other, a set of gray double doors behind her. She didn''t cut much of a menacing image as she was; an older lady with a notably corpulent figure, a large mole on her chin and far too much makeup to ever truly be flattering. She wore large flowery earrings and a pink-patterned blouse that showed far more cleavage than anyone truly wanted to see. Despite all this, not a single man present dared meet her eye, each one somehow cowed by the air of authority she gave off. The rest were too busy stealing glances at the barely dressed whore rubbing herself over the overconfident idiot with the face scar. Mama-san''s gaze continued flicking annoyedly across each one of the thugs, her attention each time being drawn back to the girls nuzzling up against the men she was forced to shelter. It didn''t take a trained detective to piece together why the woman was so annoyed. Even though she had to allow the men to use her place as a makeshift hideout, it certainly didn''t mean that she had to take it pleasantly. While Lung may have owned the place in all but name, it was still her business and she made damn sure everyone knew as much. Unlike several other places Lung owned with girls plucked from anywhere Lung''s men could find them, her place had standards. On some level, it even had class. She certainly wouldn''t let her girls stand on street corners. Letting out an annoyed huff, Mama-san poured herself another drink from a flower-patterned ceramic bottle, looking imperious as the men in the room nursed their own bottles of cheap beer lamely. The atmosphere was tense and quiet even with the girls in the room, the few muttered words shared between men nervous and worried. Scattered mutterings painted a larger picture of the situation; Lung''s restaurant being raided by the Empire, Big Ken suspected dead and several hideouts going silent all over the city. All of this was barely audible over the sounds of grunting, shaking furniture and faked moaning that wafted from the ceiling above their heads. The day had been a tense one much like the one before it, each of them forced to do things they would rather not by a boss they feared even more so than Lung himself. Roughly two dozen men sat around quickly-erected plastic tables under Mama-san''s purview, almost each and every one likely hoping they would be the next one allowed into one of the rooms. The massages she offered here may not have been as therapeutic as she claimed but they were undoubtedly relaxing. Cigarette smoke wafted up into the air to mix with the smell of burning incense as Mama-san lifted the cigarette holder to take a deep gulp of the milky-white alcohol in her cup, throwing her head back as she did so. Long painted fingernails tapped the now-empty bottle for a few seconds, the sound almost inaudible as a particularly loud grunt came from one of the upstairs rooms, the ceiling shaking slightly along with the noise. She turned that same powerful glare towards the ceiling tiles, her fingernails still tapping out an unsteady beat on the ceramic. She pursed her lips as her gaze lowered back down, beady black eyes darting off to the far wall. "Hiro!" The sharp bark got the attention of several in the room, but none more so than the recipient of the call itself. From where he stood leaning against the far wall, a rail-thin figure quickly jumped to attention and hurriedly made his way over to the commanding woman, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry. His baggy black T-shirt hung off his skeletal frame, somehow drawing more attention to the visible bruises criss-crossing both his arms in addition to the multitude of flesh-colored band-aids wrapped around his fingers and palms. "Y-y-yes, Mama-san?" The teen answered the woman with his head down as he reached the front desk, doing his best to avoid making eye contact. For whatever reason, Mama-san was no fan of eye contact from any one who worked for her, the young boys Lung sent her even more so. Hiro, the newest gofer of the group and the weakest of them all, was no exception to this rule. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. The brothel manager''s gaze lost some of its heat as the boy stood in front of her, visibly cowed. Her scowl shifted upwards slightly, gaining some of the traits of a sneer as she shot him a look that was filled with more disgust than anything else. "Stop standing around like an idiot and make yourself useful," she growled out, jowls wobbling slightly as she shook the empty bottle in Hiro''s face. "You see this?" "Uhh¡­" The boy flinched back slightly, one hand quickly rising to his face to push his cheap round glasses back up his nose. It had been remarked often enough to the seventeen-year old that if he let his hair grow out from it''s distinct neat bowl cut, he''d be a dead-ringer for a Japanese Harry Potter. It was no surprise that Hiro had developed a powerful hatred for the series in all its forms. "I mean, y-yes, Mama-san." "Then stop looking!" She snapped again, tone ringing with annoyance. "Fetch me more rice wine and be quick with it!" "Yes, Mama-san," Hiro repeated, not for the first time feeling like a trained animal as he gave the woman a slight bow with his head kept down. The ceramic bottle dropped from her raised hand into Hiro''s awaiting palm, the teen accepting it gladly as his hand tightened around it almost immediately. He had barely taken a step away from Mama-san when her shrill voice struck his ears again. "Big boy! Whatever your name is, the other one!" A few meters away from where Hiro had been standing, the boy in question raised his head to glance over at the receptionist''s desk. "Follow Hiro upstairs and bring down more beer!" The muscular Korean teenager stretched languidly, taking his time to peel away from the wall as he turned to fully face Mama-san. With careful slow steps, he began to walk over to where Hiro stood."You know my name''s Eugene, right, Mama-san?" Hiro forced himself not to flinch at Eugene''s overly casual tone, only managing it through force of will. Eugene''s less-than-respectful nature often got Hiro in trouble with Mama-san ¡ª for reasons that he''d prefer not to think about ¡ª yet Eugene refused to change. Even now, the boy didn''t even bother to walk all the way over to Mama-san''s desk as he responded to her. Stopping a good distance away from the older woman''s desk, Eugene Hwang raised an eyebrow at the woman in pink, hands resting in the pockets of his black and blue tracksuit. "When you stop being lazy, I''ll remember it," she sneered again, eyes darting up and down Eugene''s large form. Hiro''s stomach lurched as he noticed her gaze shift from disgust to leering as she took in Eugene''s muscled body, even with his tracksuit in the way. The queasiness didn''t fade as Mama-san licked away the remnants of Korean rice wine on her upper-lip, the milky-white color of the Makgeolli certainly not helping the stomach-turning barrage of sexual images in his head. "Well?" The older woman stopped her leering after a few moments as her sneer returned in full force, her manicured hands shooing them away like they were insects. "What are you waiting for? Go do what I told you! Go!" It was with relief in his chest that Hiro turned away from the brothel manager to head toward the stairwell, his friend plodding along behind him. While he preferred working as Mama-san''s errand boy alongside Eugene compared to actually having to do anything truly criminal, he couldn''t deny that he hated the woman and every inch of this fake spa. In truth, he treasured the moments the horrible woman sent him to fetch something or clean something up. Any moment he could spend away from Mama-san''s gaze while on the job was heaven. Still, though, Hiro couldn''t help but think to himself, fingers of one hand idly picking at a scab on his other arm, I would give anything not to have to deal with this place anymore. The thought left his mind a moment later as he brought one foot down in front of the other and the building shook. The hell? Hiro stumbled forward, his eyes widening as he tried his best to maintain his balance from the sudden upset. Before the Japanese teen could smash his face against the hard tile floor, a hand from behind pulled him up and the teen whipped around to see Eugene with a confused expression on him and the faces of two dozen gangsters as shocked as he was. For a moment no one said anything, the entire room having gone perfectly silent. Then, Eugene broke it. "Yo, what the f-" The sound of shattering wood and plaster silenced anything the resounded through the room as the wall to his right suddenly exploded inwards. Hiro could only gasp in pain, the teen dropping to the floor as something clipped his shoulder and debris suddenly pelted the front of his body. Blinking behind his glasses, the Japanese teen glanced up. His body began to tremble as he spotted a masked face through the gaping hole that stood wider than the door itself just a few meters away. "Hello there. Sorry to drop in but..." The figure spoke up as he leisurely stepped in through the hole in the wall, hands held behind his back. "I''m looking for a Miss Bakuda. B-A-K-U-D-A is how I believe it''s spelled. Pretty sure that''s some kinda Japanese so I figured, ''who else but the ABB could help me locate someone like that'', right?" "So..." If it wasn''t for the cloth over his mouth, Hiro would have sworn the guy was smiling wide enough to show every single one of his teeth. "Any takers?" For a moment there was silence. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Nervous glances were shared, but not a single person even so much as attempted to leave their seats, each individual almost frozen by the palpable tension in the air. "If I had a nickel for every time..." Then the cape raised his hands. Cutscene: Triage ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 20, 2011 "Good afternoon, Brockton Bay. I''m Jack Trask." "And I''m Susan Runyon. Our top story today; In a joint press release, the PRT has officially confirmed the ABB as behind the series of bombings throughout the greater Brockton Bay area. In addition, multiple joint raids with the Brockton Bay Police Department have been reported on suspected ABB locations." The female anchorwoman read through the teleprompted lines with little emotion, quickly making clear to anyone watching that she had been hired more for her looks than anything else, her male counterpart doing a far better job of seeming invested. As far as the residents of the room were considered, it was as good a reason as any seeing as they weren''t paying either of them more than the slightest bit of attention. "While arrests have been made in regard to the volatile situation gripping the coastal city, the multiple injuries and deaths on record have raised some questions regarding foul play and suspected parahuman intervention. For more on this, we turn to Action 9''s Neil McNabb, live on the scene. Neil?" A chromatic blue and silver graphic suddenly flared across the screen displaying the words ''Action 9 News - Brockton'' as it twisted and turned in multiple revolutions with the sort of over-the-top flair characteristic to news broadcasts. After a few seconds, the graphic vanished, displaying a split-screen with the blonde anchor on the left and a nondescript Caucasian man on the right, the new figure standing on a crowded sidewalk. Raising a microphone to his mouth, the reporter began to speak. "Thank you, Sarah. I''m here on the Downtown Coast, right on the intersection of Crescent Avenue and Marine Row. Quite a chaotic scene here as the police work to keep people off the streets and away from the crime scene as they access the situation. Right now, I am directly across the street from one of those raids right now. As you can see behind me, the police have cordoned off this warehouse for nearly an hour already as they made dozens of arrests. Several explosive devices believed to be of Tinker make and design have been seized from these locations and delivered to PRT custody but the bombings themselves have not yet ceased. "While both the PRT and police have been making headway in responding to the threat of the ABB, recent reports have highlighted that several of these hideouts have already been assaulted, with overwhelming evidence pointing towards a parahuman." The female anchor nodded her head, her expression shifting to look somewhat interested in this new development. "A parahuman, Neil? You mean, one of the local Protectorate?" "Highly unlikely, Sarah. Some sources have pointed towards this parahuman being the same one suspected to be the assailant against Brockton Bay Ward, Shadow Stalker, and a potential member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. However, reports from the PRT indicate this parahuman as likely being an Independent but that, again, is still under investigation. There is still a lot we don''t know." "And what do we know, Neil?" Jack chimed in, the camera shifting over to him as he spoke. "So far, Jack, Sarah, not much at all. The police have released information stating this parahuman to be a Caucasian male in his early to mid-teens, going off his height and somewhat high-pitched voice. Eyewitness reports over the past twenty-four hours have described the young man as wearing a black bodysuit and a red piece of cloth tied around his neck. More recent reports from this morning have him supposedly with what looks like a Japanese sword of some type." "I believe we have a picture actually, Neil," the female anchor quickly interjected, gesturing offscreen. A moment later, an image appeared over her half of the split-screen, showing a sketch of a thin figure in all-black clothing and what looked like a katana hanging from his waist. "Whether or not this depiction is completely accurate," Neil continued as the image on the other screen scrolled from side to side, "it remains clear that this parahuman is clearly not one to be underestimated as his repeated attacks against the ABB have led to dozens of gang members requiring rapid hospitalization, due to life-threatening injuries and multiple deaths. Some fear that such brutal action will result in an increase in violence from the ABB side, an understandable worry. The PRT is requesting this parahuman stand down and if possible, turn himself in bef..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The television continued to blare pointlessly throughout the hospital room, none of its occupants paying it any real attention. Most of them were in no real state to watch TV, drugged almost to the gills as they were to avoid the worst of the bone-wracking pain they would have felt otherwise. "You''re done, sir." The man blinked in surprise at the frizzy-haired girl sitting in front of him, hands clutching at himself with frantic and unbelieving desperation. She often received patients like this, themselves almost as annoying as those who had the nerve to ask requests of her. Thankfully, these last thirty hours were made up almost entirely of the former, each one with their own tearful thanks blending into each other that she couldn''t even be bothered to respond back anymore. Drawing off past experience, Amy Dallon slid back a few feet in her hospital-provided rolling chair and let the orderlies cart the man outside of the room before he could lunge for her, trapping her in a teary-eyed embrace she didn''t want or need. Not from a patient, at least. Definitely not from someone who felt like they owed her anything. As he was wheeled out the door, Amy caught the last of the gibbering thanks as they fell from the patient''s mouth, the thankful man holding up an arm that minutes ago was nonexistent. For what was certainly not the first time today, Panacea fought the urge not to let out a deep sigh, not for the risk of lowering the morale of everyone around her even further. She settled, instead, for lowering her head and allowing her white hood to obscure what her scarf didn''t cover with cloth and shadow. Her shoulders slumped beneath her voluminous robe, the teenage girl stopping just short of sinking into her chair. God, she was tired. It wasn''t physical tiredness. Not that she didn''t feel that as well; the four hours of sleep she managed to scrape in a spare hospital-provided cot had not done much for her. Blinking away the lure of sleep with tired eyes, Amy forced her lids open and stared at the only thing available from her vantage point. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twitching and picking at loose threads of white fabric as she made another futile attempt at ignoring the growing pit in her chest. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The thought of doing this for even one more minute¡­ Being stuck here¡­ The very idea made her want to scream. Personal feelings aside, it wasn''t like she could simply stop even if she wanted to. Just like it had been yesterday, there was a constant flow of people who needed her help. A constant flow of screaming, pained, and terrified patients who weren''t going to get the help they needed without her. It was obvious to anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention that there weren''t enough medical resources to go around in the city right now. MedHall Medical Center may have opened its doors to the public for disaster relief but it wasn''t anywhere near enough to stem the tide. Certainly not with a major hospital across town still the macabre scene that Sunday''s events had left it. The blood and gore itself wouldn''t have been much of a problem for the city to handle but the crystalline remains of those not close enough to be caught within a few meters of the blast had been impossible to identify or deal with without calling in heavy machinery. The crystal figures that had miraculously remained intact might have been considered beautiful works of art were it not for their horrific composition. Panacea tried not to left her mind drift back to what that niggling thought in the back of her head suggested when she witnessed the remains of that horror. Triumph''s mangled body in the back of an ambulance had been nothing compared to what her own mind could dredge up to frighten her with. With Brockton Central out of commission, all their existing patients had to go somewhere and Portsmouth Regional was the only other hospital both close enough and large enough to suffice. And that''s where Panacea had found herself for the last thirty or so hours, healing patients as they were wheeled in to her care. A cycle that just wouldn''t end. All this in mind, Amy knew that a single moment to catch her breath wouldn''t even be on the table, far too many people in need of healing for any of the staff to even bring up the notion without her doing so first. She wondered if they would be so selfless in her place; being expected to heal on command. It was days like these that she realized that she couldn''t bring herself to care about the people she healed. What was the point of it anyway? What was the point of healing anyone when it didn''t matter in the long run? Over a hundred people died every minute, after all. Amy had looked up the statistics one day ¡ª just to torture herself, maybe ¡ª and the number had remained a context fixture in her thoughts, taking every silent moment to remind her how pointless this whole thing was. One hundred people a minute. It took her almost five times that long to deal with something as simple as a patient with a few broken bones. Five hundred people dead in the time it took her to help one person. What did a single person mean in the face of that? Would it be so wrong to be anywhere else doing anything else? ...Ugh. Amy let out the slightest of groans as the familiar line of reasoning worked its way through her mind once more. The thought itself left a bitter taste in her mouth, as it always did, her own selfishness slapping her in the face and forcing her to see what kind of person she really was. Part of her didn''t find the idea all that selfish, though. It didn''t at all help her mood that she only hated herself even more for entertaining anything that came from that self-centered portion of her mind. Once again thankful that her hood covered most of her face, Amy couldn''t help but flinch at the shrill squeak of rubber tires on linoleum as yet another stretcher came to a halt in front of her. She lifted her hood back slightly, raising her gaze to witness an orderly place the patient''s IV stand on the floor next to the yellow stretcher, the clear bag of painkillers swaying slightly as it settled into place. Her next patient was a woman, Amy realized with slight displeasure rising in the back of her mind. She didn''t much like women patients for the simple reason that they were the vast majority of those that had to ask for things, never quite feeling satisfied with her help. Amy pushed that thought even further back in her mind as she realized just how badly in need this patient was. Blood-stained bandages and gauze covered most of the skin Amy could see, a sky blue latex tourniquet around her upper arm serving as a stopgap likely to keep the woman from bleeding out from what was likely a massive gash on her forearm. Amy''s gaze shifted, eyes darting over the patches of brown and red staining her body and the bandages visible on her stomach just below what remained of the shredded top of her scrubs. Above the yellow neck brace keeping her head steady, bloody bandages crisscrossed the woman''s face, the largest ones covering nearly the entire right side of her face, eye included. "Hello, ma''am¡­" Amy inched closer in her seat and looked the patient in the eye, trying to establish eye contact before going any further. Parahuman healing skills or not, she had been doing this long enough to know to maintain her bedside manner. The woman on the stretcher stared back at the girl in white with a limp expression, one visible eye dulled from the constant drip of what had to be morphine in her IV keeping her numb to the world. "My name is Panacea," Amy leaned forward even further, careful not to raise her hand yet. Making the first move before the patient responded was something else she had to be careful of, the hospitals wary of lawsuits. "Do I have permission to heal you?" A single blue eye blinked at the parahuman, a sudden awareness filling it as the woman''s gaze shifted. Stiff blonde hair dyed an unpleasant brownish-red with blood fell down in clumps over the woman''s face as she tilted her head forward in a nod. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ¡°...going to have to cut you off, Neil,¡± news anchor Jack Trask announced with a reserved expression, the anchor¡¯s side overwhelming the split screen once more. ¡°Breaking news here at Action 9 this afternoon; A series of explosions in the Bay Central area have forced the spread of fires in Downtown Brockton¡­¡± Jack paused, a shocked expression on his face as he raised two fingers to one ear. The man¡¯s gaze turned to his co-anchor, Sarah¡¯s expression just as surprised as his, before he turned back to face the camera once more. ¡°Wait, I-I¡¯m¡­ Recent serial bomber and ABB-affiliated villain Oni Lee has been spotted engaging two heroes in Downtown. Reports of explosions and several civilian deaths are already being confirmed. This cou¡­¡± His hand rose back to his ear, eyes widening again. ¡°Oh¡­ Oh my God. For all the viewers at home, I¡¯m receiving news right now identifying the two heroes as Shielder and Laserdream of New Wave, who appeared to have been assisting rescue operations at the time. Shielder appears to be somewhat¡­ somewhat injured but Laserdream seems to be in perfect health. B-be assured that we at Action 9 will keep track of this situation as it develops.¡± Mob 5.12 There was something to be said for the cathartic effects of screaming your lungs raw. The act was, at its very core, an emotional outburst of unfocused rage with the simple purpose of venting a harmful emotion. No words could express anger with as much purity as that of a raw scream. It was the epitome of uncontrolled stress, anger and projected emotion. Greg Veder knew none of this. Even if he did, he wouldn''t find it in him to care. He screamed because it came naturally. He screamed because he wanted to. He screamed because¡ª "I''LL KILL Y-nnnNNGGGH!" Another explosion went off to his right, a wave of heat and force nearly catching him off guard yet again. Pain throbbed from his entire right side as his head snapped back from the sudden shock but Greg roared through it, swinging wildly at the cloud of smoke to his left. Arcs of wind shot forward from the thin blade with every manic slash, each one chipping away at the cloying smoke that hung in the air with all the thickness of sand and soot combined. The ground under his bare feet should have been scalding to the touch, burning from the raging flames, the heat just shy of what it would need for the tar itself to boil. The fires of his rage burned nearly as hot, their literal manifestation only making the smoke worse. He could barely see, eyes darting from side to side behind a mask that was only threads and remnants of metal by now. His right arm hung limply at his side, a broken mess of blood and meat. Greg ignored it, letting his Willpower numb it for him. He didn''t have time for pain. A pulse went off, quick and sharp, an alarm warning of danger. Blue eyes snapped up, less shock in his gaze than calculated expectation. The blond darted back, quickly kicking off the ground with one leg and letting the force of it carry him back several meters. He looked back, thin sword held out in front of him as he sent a furious glare at the wall of glinting weapons jutting forward from the ever-growing cloud of gray smoke. Greg grit his teeth and quickly spun on his heel, a visible film of air coating the edge of his blade. By the time he had performed a complete revolution, it all but obscured his weapon completely. He came to a sharp halt, eyes quickly darting down to note the gale-like winds whipping about the sword, and released the build up as he flicked his katana upwards in a rising slash. A vertical crescent of cutting wind shot forth from the blade of his weapon, slicing through the smoke as easily as the sword itself would through flesh in Greg''s hands. Through the meter-wide path in the haze, Greg spotted his target. The mask leered at him as several duplicates appeared beside, simply falling into existence without warning as if they had always been there. Behind all of them, some sort of device bobbed up and down in the air, hovering without any sort of propulsion below it, the blood red lens it bore perfectly matching the masks of a dozen murderers in front. Without a single thought, Greg lunged with a [Dash Straight]. Five meters became none in the blink of an eye. The weapon in his hands came down with all his force, the boy himself roaring at the top of his lungs as he did so. "Oni LeeeeEEEEE!" Mob 5.12 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 20, 2011 12:08 PM It had started with red. No, no¡­ He was getting ahead of himself. It had started with fire. He had been running over rooftops, heading towards the next place on the list Big Ken had given him, when he saw it. Black smoke rose into the cloudy midday sky, easy to spot even from several blocks away. From what he could hear, firefighters were either already in place or so close to the fire that any real distinction was pointless. In fact, just down the street, he could see a few trucks trying to hose down the quickly rising flames that threatened to spread further down towards him. Greg blinked at that sight, a frown growing beneath his mask. Something was wrong here, he knew that for a fact. How could there be a fire breaking out closer to him and several blocks down the street at the same time with no spread in between them? He came to a sudden realization as he felt the slightest of pulses at the very back of his thoughts, the sensation catching his attention immediately. Someone''s setting these? A sound like a peal of thunder cracked through the air, Greg tensing up as a faint rumbling din followed it. What the hell was that? He glanced up, eyes scanning the skies for any signs of an oncoming storm. Apart from that of the smoke trailing upwards, the sky was otherwise free of any dark clouds. His hand tightened around the katana on his hip, slightly tense at whatever could be twigging his Danger Sense out in the open like this. Nozarashi, as the thing was named, was a trophy Greg had taken from an ABB eager to use it against him the night before. The thing hadn''t actually possessed a name before Greg had subdued its owner. No, that had come about a few hours or so later as Greg finished up two quests, gained a skill-up or two and received a level up on top of another for his troubles. As such, the blond had felt just happy enough to indulge himself. (+ 2 to Beginner Combat)
Quest "ABB II: Big Trouble in Little China" Completed! Gained 2500 XP Gained 2 to [Observe] Bonus: Failed Quest "ABB III: Kung Fury" Completed! Gained 15000 XP Gained [Enemy] Reputation with [Azn Bad Boys] Gained 15000 XP (Bonus) Gained 5 to Beginner Combat (Bonus)
The name Nozarashi had come about from that moment of pique, one that Greg didn''t regret in the slightest. The thing had been a bit chipped along the blade and clearly a little dull, so what little Japanese Greg knew had inspired its new appellation: Weather-Beaten Skeleton. It came from an anime, one Greg wasn''t really a fan of except for a couple bad-ass characters here and there. Still, it wasn''t like that mattered. Not only did the now-named weapon come with its own set of bonuses ¡ª albeit weak ones ¡ª it also had the ability to grow further if that "Lev. 1" by its name meant anything. Another weapon in his arsenal that could potentially rival Gram could only mean be a good thing for Greg. While he hadn''t gotten much use of it in the past eighteen hours it had been in his possession, the thing had helped him turn what would have been relatively prolonged fights into much shorter affairs. Through Intimidation, that is. (Intimidation + 1) Greg waited for a few seconds more, hand still resting on the hilt of his weapon as his eyes flickered between both blazes. As firefighters hosed down the raging flames, the blond kept his guard up, muscles tensed for quick action. When his Danger Sense began to die down and nothing seemed to cross his attention after nearly half a minute, he Inventoried the sword at his hip, letting out a somewhat relieved sigh as it dissolved into blue particles of light. Greg shook his head, raising a hand to cup his concealed face. Okay, one less thing to w- BOOM! The familiar sound of a violent detonation broke into his thoughts, jarring the blond back several feet before finally falling with his back to the rooftop floor. Greg whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound, eyes quickly locking onto what had to be the remains of another explosion less than half a block away, the roof of an apartment building collapsing in real time. What the h- The thought was snatched from his head as the blond flinched, mouth agape as something blurred past the edge of his blindspot in a burst of speed and rushing air. Several more somethings quickly followed, Greg barely able to glimpse what looked like flurries of red light as they blurred past him with speed he couldn''t even track. The teen couldn''t react, barely able to get a word out as his head began to pound like a drum. In the same instant, a figure appeared at his side without warning, crouching on the edge of the roof in all black. Far behind him, the sound of a powerful impact met his ears, but Greg was unable to process it as he stared at the silent figure just a few meters away from him. Raw surprise overtook the instinctual rage he felt crawling up in his chest as a red mask stared back at him, horned face smiling like the demon it represented. An instant later, several short, thin metal items fell to the ground, clinking on the rooftop between them. Blue eyes widened, everything slowing down in an instant as his heart began to race. No. Oni Lee lunged forward, grenade primed and ready. Greg scrambled back, instinctive reinforcement granting him the agility to move even with his back Nononononon- A split second later, Greg felt a violent force strike his body, the sound of thunder and a burning red light tearing all thought from his mind. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 20, 2011 12:14 PM
Status Effect: Crushed Arm (Right) - 3 Hours Status Effect: Shattered Ribs (6) - 1 Hour Status Effect: Bleeding (Heavy) - 1 Hour Status Effect: Concussion (Moderate) - 1.5 Hours
VIT + 1
Resistance: Blunt Force Lvl Up! 64¡ú66 Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 33¡ú37
HP: 994/1747
[Shock negated by Gamer''s Mind]
He woke up with gritted teeth, instinctively fighting the urge to scream. Past the sound of his own strained voice as he tried to get his bearings, all he knew was darkness, screaming, and the continuing thunder that slammed into his head like a nail being driven into his skull. What felt like hours later, Greg Veder opened his eyes. He was greeted by a world on fire. A scream threatened to leave him once more when Greg suddenly tensed, the familiar sound of colliding forces drawing closer again. Warmth ran down his face. Tears or blood, he couldn''t determine which. He wiped it away, growling as he blinked. Blue screens filled his vision, one after the other, each one taking up more and more space in his head as he tried to think. He dismissed them without a second thought. He couldn''t ¡ª didn''t ¡ª read them. They weren''t important right now. Not in the slightest. A stream of red light raced past the blond''s line of sight with a rush of air. An instant later, a car alarm rang at full blast for a single moment as the kinetic burst struck a white news van, but the sound of warping metal and a forceful impact all but drowned it out. Safety glass flew loose in a hundred pieces as the entire side of the vehicle warped inwards from the force of the blast. The destroyed vehicle was barely useful anymore, even as cover for the two men hiding behind it as it continued to whine pitifully, alarm dying away as the men ran for better cover. Greg Veder forced his head upwards, eyes searching for the source of the blasts. He spotted it quickly, a feminine figure zig-zagging through Downtown''s smoky skyline with a trail of red light making her easy to track. Behind her, she wildly fired beam after beam without bothering to aim properly, each one racing at near the speed of sound as they left her. Laserdream, his labored mind supplied. A couple of identical flying objects, both colored a gunmetal gray, flew several meters away from her at both sides, each one quickly buzzing away from the few blasts that were aimed at them, humming with the sound of hidden rotary wings and warped anti-gravity fields. His gaze focused for a moment, narrowed eyes darting over to a large bubble of red light trailing directly behind her, a figure in a blue-and-white costume that Greg recognized almost immediately lying prone in it. Shielder? His eyes unerringly locked onto the figure that suddenly appeared in Laserdream''s flight path. The celebrity cape glanced over her shoulder at the wrong moment, another blast charged to fire as the figure in black launched himself at her undetected. The red mask. A concave shield of red light materialized in front of Laserdream instantly, shattering less than a moment later as the ABB assassin''s primed grenade detonated. The force of the blast launched her back, showering the blonde girl in a mess of white carbon ash. Hurtling back, she barely avoided crashing down onto a close rooftop, her brother following behind her in the bubble she kept up. As she made landfall, she put up another larger bubble to surround the both of them, a layer of red fields erected in a last-ditch attempt to ward off Oni Lee. Several Oni Lees came into being around the college-age girl, immediately throwing themselves at the collection of force fields. In the face of all this, Laserdream did her best to replace the fragile scarlet walls even as each layer collapsed under the force of a single detonation. She was going to die without help, Greg realized. A familiar feeling rose in his chest as the thought sunk in.
[Status Effect: Enraged]
Quest Created! ABB V: Head of The Snake Pt I Details: Defeat Oni Lee or Force Oni Lee to Retreat Success: [Nemesis] reputation with ABB, +75000 XP, + 5 SPD Failure: Potential Death Bonus: Kill Oni Lee
Quest Created! Waving Hello: Laserdream Details: Protect Laserdream from Oni Lee Success: [Accepted] Reputation with New Wave, [Friendly] Reputation with Pelham family, [Trusted] Reputation with Laserdream, +10000 XP, 1 Perk Point, 5 Stat Points, [?] Failure: Death of Laserdream and Shielder Bonus: Keep Laserdream out of the fight
Greg suddenly found himself on his feet, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears drowning out everything else. A heat collected in his chest that bordered on painful and the blond began to move. Nozarashi appeared in his off hand, parts of his body flaring with yellow light as he surged forward. Wind rushed around him, the swirling air parting itself to open a clean path as he forced himself forward. Uncovered soles pounded the ground, the blond not seeming to register any discomfort. Bare skin met burning metal for a single instant as he leapt over the husk of a burning car. Someone screamed something, the feminine voice just another one atop a mountain of others. Greg Veder jumped. He surged forward, wind howling in his ears as he ran on air. He screamed. He slashed. "DIE!" The world exploded with flames.
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "...series of explosions right¡­ r-right behind us. I''m not entirely sure right now of the situation but we had to m-make a rapid evacuation of our news van a-a-a¡­" The reporter on-screen, a clean shaven black man in his mid forties, drenched in sweat and grime, nearly jumped up from his hiding spot, eyes practically bulging out of his head in shock at the sudden explosion amidst the flaming carnage behind him. "As you can clearly, cl-clearly see, Oni Lee has been on the assault for several blocks as we followed the action from down below on the street. You can still hear the explosions right now as Laserdream fends off the villain but we''re not sure how much longer she can keep this u-up." He slid further down behind the alley wall he was using as cover, the man''s voice cracking spectacularly as he tried to keep his cool. "Again, we suspect that she''s waiting for reinforcements but the fight has been going on for several minutes now and a-as of yet, no such help has arrived. Firefighters have evacuated and PRT are believed to be en route but the fight is constantly m-m-moving." His voice jumped up another octave mid-word as another thick line of red light lanced through a street lamp on the street across from him. His next few words were drowned out by the screech of twisting metal as the pole caved in on itself and fell to the street below. "...main unable to get a clear picture of Shielder but we have been able to confirm that Laserdream has him protected and is keeping him from sustaining any further injur-" BOOOM! "Jesus Chri- What was th¡­" The reporter''s tone lost the professional decorum it possessed as he tried not to scream, running for cover as bits of masonry rained down on both him and his cameraman. The camera pointed upwards, screen swerving from place to place trying to keep track of what was apparently another parahuman who had jumped in to fight Oni Lee. "Oh my God¡­ Who is that?" The view shifted back to the reporter, the journalist repeatedly bumping into the cameraman and shaking the view as they both tried to keep track of what was going on while running for safety. "Ron!Ron! Are you getting this? Are you getting this? For the love of God, tell me you''re getting th-No! Don''t point it at me! Just move the camera! Move the cam-" BOOOM! Theo Anders stared at the mayhem on the screen, lips pursed on a face that was otherwise blank of expression. He lowered the remote control in his hand, placing it on a cushion, and nestled himself back onto the couch. A bored sigh left his lips, eyes darting to the side to glance at the occupied infant playing to his right before settling back on the action-packed situation on the screen in front of him. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Oni LeeeeEEEEE!" The guttural scream blared throughout the living room, both occupants reacting in very different way to the situation. Manuel Victor Ramon let out a slight hum as he looked over his newspaper to glance at the television. Apart from casting a slight glance at his son, he wasted no time in leaning back in his recliner and returning to his crossword puzzle. "...Jesus." Axel "Sparky" Ramon, on the other hand, could only whisper that single word to himself as he felt his chest tighten uncomfortably. The reporter taking up a good chunk of the frame continued to scream and shout to be heard over the mayhem behind him but the camera kept its focus on the action, the black-clad figures of Oni Lee and Greg dropping to the burning asphalt and pavement below to continue their fight. Whatever that explosive wave of fire that had appeared just moments before this was, Sparky wasn''t sure. It had been strong enough to shatter several of Laserdream''s shields and knock her down but he let that thought slide from his mind as the camera zoomed back to Greg''s form. Sparky winced, eyes half-closing for a second as he took in all the damage the blond had sustained. Shaky camera work notwithstanding, it was a gory sight. What the hell, man? Sparky shook his head, doing his very, very best not to think about exactly how bad one side of the blond''s body looked at the moment. Even in the short, blurry glimpses he could catch of him, a half-pulped arm dangling loose stood out in Sparky''s mind. "Fuckfuckfuck..." He kept the words as silent as he could, Sparky unable to actually voice his worries for fear of his dad overhearing. "Please don''t die. Fuckin''... Jesus, please do not die on me, G." The mouthed words were accompanied with clenched fists, the teen literally on the edge of his seat as the fight continued. "Hey, Ax," his dad spoke up, punctuating the short sentence with a slight yawn as he pulled himself to his feet. "I''m feeling the hunger pangs myself," he continued, patting his prodigious belly with one hand. "Gonna grab myself a plate from the kitchen. You want anything?" This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. "Hn." The teen didn''t even shake his head, simply giving his dad a somewhat negative-sounding grunt as he tried not to wince at the footage of Greg being stabbed in the back. "Well," the man chortled, one hand slowly tapping the doorframe, "I figured you''d say that. I''ll ask your mom to fix you a plate and leave it in there for you. Pretty sure we have some left over pork and beans from last night. How''s that sound?" "Hn." "DIE! DIE! DIE!" "I have to admit, in a hundred years, I never thought I''d hear that friend of yours sound quite so angry. " Sparky barely acknowledged his dad''s familiar, deep drawl as the man spoke up a third time, still waiting at the doorway to the kitchen, "Don''t look so worried, though. Kid''s got heart. He''s fought worse, right?" The statement hung in the air as his father walked into the kitchen proper, Sparky''s attention still focused on the television. Five seconds later, the words cut into his thoughts like a knife. The long-haired boy glanced up, pupils like pin-pricks as he tried not to lose his cool. "...shit." "Language, Axel!" "...Sorry, ma." As the sound of his dad''s belly laughter in the kitchen threatened to drown out the television, Sparky lowered his head into his hands, desperately wishing the last couple of minutes were just a products of his fitful, unmedicated and sleep-deprived mind. "I''LL KILL Y-nnnNNGGGH!" "Fuck. " Sadly, no such luck. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C It was a dance as much as it was attempted murder on both sides: Greg, a human blender slashing so quickly that you could barely track his movements; And Oni Lee, an unending and seemingly immortal apparition just out of his reach. Even with his injuries, Greg knew that he was the faster one in this fight. The agility of Oni Lee and his short-lived duplicates were firmly within the range of athletic human ability, albeit in the absurdly upper percentiles, and Greg had left that benchmark behind several weeks ago at the latest. From that alone, it had seemed like this fight would have been over in seconds. "Fuck you!" In reality, it was fast approaching two minutes with no end in sight. As fast as he was with a sword and his rapid maneuvering in general, there was no doubt about it: raw speed was nowhere near enough to get the job done. Nozarashi was a blur, slicing through countless identical torsos and arms before they could pull the pins of Oni Lee''s infinitely replicating arsenal of grenades, but the villain seemed to always be an instant ahead, somewhere else as a clone took the blow. The amount of times Greg had felt his heart leap in his chest at the sight only to watch Oni Lee''s dead form erupt into white carbon ash moments later... The sword shone with both the yellow light of reinforcement and the heat of Greg''s pyrokinesis, the blond instinctively heating the blade as both blasts of wind and flame shot from it with every slash.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 22¡ú23 Basic Pyrokinesis Lvl Up! 12¡ú13
Even then, it wasn''t enough. Hampered by his own injuries, he couldn''t actually keep up with the constantly replicating storm that was Lee. A missed slash here meant that the edge of a machete would find its way into his back. An over-extended movement in one direction was an opening for a grenade to go off scant meters away from his person. As frenetic as the pace of the fight was, it didn''t prevent it from being a slog. A slog that was quickly chipping away at him. Yet, Oni Lee was untouched. "Fuck you!" More than that, he was doing more real damage that Greg had yet to accomplish. "Fuck you!" For every four clones that Greg bisected or beheaded, a single blade found its way into his ribs or slashed into his back. Every lunge he made only took him into the path of another grenade. If he was particularly unlucky, it was more than one. He''s playing with me. He''s playing with me! He''s playing with ME?! Greg poured on as much speed as he could manage, pushing back his pounding headache as he tried to force the masked killer to take him seriously. Clone after clone after clone after clone after clone after clone after clone... They were like after-images, Oni Lee created them so quickly. It was an army of remorseless phantasms, and each one he cut down was replaced by another and another and another and another ¡ª there was no end, no ground that could be won because there was always another grinning, ghostly mask, no small victories to be found in the destruction of clones and ash. Almost as annoying were the red pop-ups that continued filling his vision every time Oni Lee stabbed him. Unlike them, however, he was in no position to ignore Lee.
[Status Eff-
"Fuck you!" The duplicates appeared with every movement Oni Lee made, each one so fast that it appeared like a single quick dash in one direction with a slew of after-images. "You think anyone''s scared of you? You think I''m scared of you?" He slashed again, slashing through yet another kamikaze attempt as he rushed forward to take on what he suspected was the real Lee. "You? All you do is hurt people who can''t fight back!" He forced as much anger as he could into that last syllable, screams past the point of hoarseness. He felt the heat in his chest build again as he pushed his rage out, something to fuel his anger just that smallest bit forward. "Innocent people!" Anger or not, he knew he wasn''t making any real headway and it was only pushing his buttons. Speed was less than nothing to an opponent like Lee. Someone who could vanish and reappear in less than a second, leaving a perfect duplicate of him at his previous location couldn''t truly be beaten with the type of speed Greg had to offer at the moment. "People who¡­ people who never hurt anyone in their life!" "And you just kill them¡­ for what?"Someone who could effectively move as fast as they could think with an unending army behind them had no real needfor speed. "For what?" His weapon blurred in a horizontal cut as he decapitated four duplicates at once, the vorpal move resulting in a thick spray of blood. The red burst clouded his vision nearly as well as the smoke his targets split into moments later, before that too evaporated into ash. "Fun?! Is this fun to you?! You¡­ you..." He burst forward, relying on his [Dash Straight] to propel him once again. "Fucking-!"
Dash Straight Lvl Up! 11¡ú12
Nozarashi swung downwards, a wind blade bursting from it and catching two duplicates mid-leap. "Ninja wannabe~!" He followed the Taunt with a wordless roar as the dull-colored gas threatened to overwhelm his sight again, the scream followed by a powerful gust of wind that blew a good portion of it away.
Adept Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 3¡ú4
Where there was only cloudy smoke, Greg could now see. See several masked duplicates hurtling towards him from several angles, that is. "Nngh-!" Before he could react, the edge of a machete scored a deep gash on the side of his face. Greg darted back before the weapon could do any more damage, reacting an instant later to thrust the heated blade into a clone''s chest. He resisted the urge to cradle his eye, not even wasting the time to wipe blood away from it. The cut had missed his left eye by the thinnest of margins, but it stung like the flames of hell regardless, the blood pooling in his eye socket rendering him half-blind. "I''m gonna kill you!" The multitude of masks continued to smile back at him as the fiery pain in Greg''s chest and his muscles only grew with each second Oni Lee avoided him. They closed in with menace, explosions and lethal edges, but Greg hadn''t been idle in his thoughts and hatred. Even amidst the pain and inferno, and despite the failure of every approach he had tried thus far, his heart still sought victory. After trying over and over again, Greg believed he had finally, finally figured out the demonic villain''s trick. "Omae wa¡­" The whispered words came to his mouth almost by instinct as his remaining eye tracked the real Oni Lee past his trail of clones, something standing out to him as he forced himself to focus past everything else. He should have noticed it before. The real Lee had a habit of huddling perfectly in the middle of each set of newly duplicated clones, always doubling back to the very end of the line as Greg fought through them and creating a new stack to hide himself in. Greg had previously gone for the ones hanging back before, assuming that to be the actual villain but he had already learned that lesson well enough. I should have seen this before. He should have noticed it before, that much was true. At least, if he wasn''t so caught up with slashing apart anything that came within his range. But, now wasn''t the time to beat himself up for missing it. It was time to throw caution to the wind. He had to act. "Omae wa mou¡­" The words came to his lips again, Greg jumping towards the last Lee, once again moving to ignore all the others that rushed at him, allowing several errant slashes from a storm of knives and machetes to fall upon him and exact their bloody toll as he bounded forwards with a [Dash Straight]. The Lee he was targeting made to jump back, something Greg realized now was an obvious feint. "...shindeiru!" At the very last second, Willpower flared through his lower body and Greg twisted back, pushing himself as fast as he could in the immediate opposite direction. It was fast, faster than any of the Lees could react. A burst of wind in his wake blew several of them out of his path, three out of four of them outright popping by the time they hit the ground but Greg paid them no attention as his sword hit home. The blade sunk hilt-deep into Oni Lee''s open chest, the villain letting out a rattling gasp as he grasped at Greg''s hands and clutched at him with the desperation of the dying. A savage smile grew on the blond''s face as Lee held him tightly, body squirming on his sword. You deserve this, he thought, pushing the blade deeper. All of this. It was a single moment later that a familiar tinkling noise hit his ears and Greg Veder instantly froze and tried to pull back, his mind associating that sound with imminent pain. Rather than let go, Oni Lee held tight to him, the smiling mask once again sending a chill down Greg''s spine. His Danger Sense blared too late as the Oni Lee he had just run through exploded with ash, heat and bone-rattling force. Shrapnel tore into Greg''s reinforced skin, each individual shard cutting through metal and flesh in one painful instant. At that same moment, something else ran him through.
VIT + 1
Several somethings. Both his eyelids drooped for a second, legs going weak as he shuddered in place. What?
Status Effect: Impalement - 1 Hour
Oh. Greg Veder looked down at the machete blades sticking from his chest, blinking his one good eye as all but one vanished into smoke before his eyes. He stumbled back on unsteady legs, Danger Sense pounding as he looked up again to receive a boot to the face. Nozarashi fell from his grasp, clattering on the burning floorboards as it was kicked away by the villain in the demon mask. "Hai. Omae da¡­*" The voice was strained somewhat, almost as if raspy from disuse. "...Demo watashi wa?(1)" The blond toppled back, nearly crashing to the ground like a fallen tree before catching himself at the last minute. Slumped on his knees, Greg threw Oni Lee a defiant glare, unsure if the masked villain was still making duplicates as his vision began to swim. "You''re..." Greg tried to catch his breath past the unyielding pain in his chest, struggling to take in air or even stay upright as Oni Lee stood over him. "You''re supposed to say... Na-" The machete in Lee''s hand swung down. Once again, the sound of thunder and red light overtook Greg''s vision. He stared up, blinking in surprise as a battered Oni Lee off to his left collapsed into a pile of ash, then glanced to his right. Greg stared at yet another massive hole in a storefront window, one that had not been there moments ago.
Quest "ABB V: Head of The Snake Pt I" Failed!
Quest "Waving Hello: Laserdream" Completed! Gained [Accepted] Reputation with New Wave Gained [Friendly] Reputation with Pelham family Gained [Trusted] Reputation with Laserdream Gained 10000 XP Gained 1 Perk Point Gained 5 Stat Points Gained Mana Barrier Bonus: Failed
Greg Veder let himself slump down to a sitting position and stared up at the screen hovering in front of him. A moment later, he threw his head back and did the only thing he could think of doing. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C All Laserdream could do was stare, mouth open in complete shock as the bleeding, broken boy pulled a knife that was placed sickeningly close to his heart out of his chest with only a slight grunt and what might have been the faint end of a whimper, she wasn''t really sure. The soft clink of metal on flaming asphalt met her ears next, the older girl still watching as he tossed it over his shoulder without even a word, spitting a thick wad of blood onto the ground a moment later. With that done, he threw back his head. The laugh that burst from his lips was another shock. Maniacal was one of the few adjectives she could think of that fit the sound. Hysterical was another. Insane was a third. "All that for a goddamn failure," she heard him mutter past the snap and crackle of another burning building collapsing down the street. Failure? She frowned, somewhat unsure of how to take that. He survived against Oni Lee and he''s treating it like some big disaster? Crystal shook her head in slight bewilderment, having seen this attitude from plenty of rookie capes before. Most of them hadn''t lasted past their second fight. He should be glad he''s alive, not worried about a win. She watched him pull himself off from the hot asphalt, the Wards-age cape laughing the entire time, seemingly unaware of the blood, dust and ash coating his body and costume. The boy was still laughing as he turned back again to face the direction her blast had launched the real Oni Lee into, the hole in the storefront window clear for all to see, the villain himself lying prone amid the remains of blazing ceiling tiles and fallen, scattered shelving. Shelving and goods that were also blasted to bits by explosions and, again, on fire. Everything was on fire. Maybe a bit too much there, Crystal admitted to herself, surveying the hole with a critical eye from her vantage point on the rooftop across the street. Just a bit, she added after another second of thought, not really able to bring herself to care all that much about the homicidal cape. Still, she acquiesced, wouldn''t look good if he died. And she knew she''d take the worst of it, along with the rest of New Wave. Homicidal bastard or not, Lee had no Kill Order on his head. At least, not yet. Pushing that line of thought to the back of her mind, she began to drift down from the rooftop with Shielder in tow behind her in her bubble. She wasn''t good enough with her shields to keep him safe unless he was close to her. Eric had always been better about that sort of thing with his powers. His flight speed and energy blasts, though¡­ Well, she loved her brother anyways, even if he couldn''t hope to keep up with her. Crystal was his big sister after all. It was her job to watch over him. She was supposed to keep him safe¡­ Again, she shook her head, sending another train of thought to an impromptu stop. Making sure to stay a few meters above the street proper as a good chunk of it was still on fire, Crystal Pelham finally found the moment of silence to say the one thing that had been going through her mind as the boy''s laughter came to a sudden stop. "How are you still standing?!" She blinked in surprise, both at the volume of the words that left her mouth and at how quickly the young cape spun to face her, his body literally blurring for an instant. His eyes widened behind the remaining half of his silver skull mask, and Crystal suddenly realized that he just now noticed she had still been around. With nothing more than a slight frown to show for it, she pushed her annoyance at that little fact to the side. "What?" ''What,'' he says, Crystal thought to herself with a mental scoff, like he didn''t just go almost five minutes in a straight fight with Oni Lee. Blinking again, the New Wave cape gave a slight shake of her head and responded far more quietly, "You''re bleeding all over, and you''ve got some¡­" Again, she repressed the urge to cringe, "...pretty bad-looking burns. How are you not in, like, all the pain right now?" To her surprise, the cape let out another small laugh, this one far more normal, and shot her a smile. Laserdream tried not to grimace when faced with his bloody mess of a mouth. Somehow, it was almost worse than the rest of him. How does he even speak?. "This¡­ This is just a flesh wound." Laserdream blinked at the other cape''s words. "A flesh wound?" "A flesh wound." He nodded jerkily. "Technically, every wound is a flesh wound, amirite?" Another laugh left him, this one far more controlled as he tilted his neck from side to side. Laserdream repressed the urge to backpedal, reminding herself that she owed it to this cape to at least try to help him¡­ somehow. Before she could think of anything else, her media-trained public skills went to work and she spoke up again. "Could I ask who you are or what I can call you?" "Me..." he interrupted himself with another burst of laughter before quickly calming down again. "Th-the¡­ the name''s Pr¡­ Nah, I mean, Hardkour." He shook his head in a dazed manner, raising one hand to cup his head. "Y''know, I actually kinda thought of going with Edgelord, though." Before Crystal could even process that enough to think of a suitable response, he cut in again, explaining himself. "''Cause I have a sword, y''know? And I''m wearing all black." The laughter returned with a vengeance as he gestured up and down to his mostly bare chest and remnants of a mask. The crazy cape actually threw his head back as he let it out. "At least I was¡­ at some point. Hardkour is good though. I blame PHO." After a moment, he tilted his head to the side again, a light frown screwing up his face. "Then again, when do I not blame PHO?" Laserdream nodded her head slowly, doing her best not to cringe at the comment. "...You''ve... You''ve lost a lot of blood, haven''t you?" "You know," He tilted his head the way her own little brother used to, back when he was closer to ten than sixteen. "You''d think so, wouldn''t ya?" Again with the bloody smile. Laserdream chose to forgo responding immediately in lieu of glancing over her shoulder at her brother''s semi-conscious form still in the bubble, trying to figure out if she would be able to carry both injured boys with her to the hospital. Calling 911 wasn''t an option considering the wrecked streets and she couldn''t even reach her family with her personal communicator wrecked thanks to that asshole Oni Lee. The only option was to airlift them herself. But how? Maintaining two fields at once was already something she struggled to manage. Making that bubble any wider was out of bounds, too. Hell, just moving a single field of any shape was a workout. That was Shielder''s thing, again, not hers. Maintaining two while simultaneously moving them both was the closest thing to an impossibility she could think of at the moment. She shook her head again, expression tightly controlled as she did her best to put a smile on her face. She had to make a decision and fast. One of them had saved her and her brother''s life, true. However, he was clearly some type of Brute and in good enough shape to make jokes about his own condition, as horrible as it was. He also didn''t seem like he was on the verge of dying, despite appearances. The other was her baby brother. Her baby brother with an arm full of grenade shrapnel... There was only one real choice here, as bad as she felt about it. With a strained smile, Laserdream turned back around to explain the situation to the younger cape. Instead, she froze as she faced an street empty of nothing but debris, scattered masonry and a hard decision already made for her. Hardkour was gone. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C * Hai. Omae da = Yes. I know you are 1 Demo watashi wa? = But what am I? Well, that happened. Quite a doozy of a chapter. Next chapter will be up next week. Mob 5.13 Mob 5.13 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 20, 2011 12:37 PM Broken glass along his path crackled threateningly as Greg stepped through the doorway, bare feet treading across the detritus without care. Sharp edges threatened to dig into his soles but he felt little more than pin-pricks, his bare skin resisting it nearly as well as one would expect from a pair of sturdy boots. Lights flickered on one-by-one above his head as he entered the building, the once-pristine door swinging back closed behind him. It hit its grooves with far more force than the thing was really meant for, the tinkling of more jagged glass joining those already on the floor at the boundaries of Greg''s perception. He shuffled on unsteady legs, muscles aching from a need to rest. Wounds across his body ¡ª a painful reminder of his disastrous duel with Oni Lee... as well as its almost-lethal conclusion ¡ª numbly reminded him that he should be suffering extreme pain. Not for the first time, Greg was thankful for Gamer''s Body for allowing him to survive what would have been his assured execution. And yet, the pain lingered ¡ª the throbbing numbness and erratic sensation of ache and hurt was a constant annoyance. In hindsight, the impromptu usage of Reinforcement when escaping the burning backdrop of his duel with Lee had helped keep him from falling apart then and there. But he knew very well that Reinforcement was only a delaying tactic, one that also seemed to epitomize the idea of diminishing returns. Case in point, it was enough for the mere minutes it took him to flee the scene, but now that he''d dropped it, the frailties of the flesh returned to the forefront of his mind. He didn''t even hurt, really. His stats alone gave him a vastly superhuman baseline - and that was without bringing his various Resistances and the other Perks and Abilities into play - but that did nothing to change the fact that his body was broken and damaged in a variety of ways. Sure, his powers made the pain and discomfort he felt negligible, to a certain point, but it still remained that Greg was simply exhausted above all else. With his Health nearly as low as his Will, his body and mind yearned for him to stop and rest; to give himself a chance to recuperate. One hand clutched his torso as he hobbled forward. The feeling of warm blood as it dripped from sucking wounds and through his fingers was a familiar one. It trailed behind him, each drop slipping past his grasp with every single step. He hated this so much¡­ This feeling... This weakness... It wasn''t him. He was better than this. This was nothing to him. One blue eye fluttered closed to match the other as Greg took in a shaky breath of clean air, the last remnants of smoke scraping at his throat lessening in the presence of its antithesis. He stumbled forward at the deepest point of the inhale, chest shooting up like fire in the very center as it expanded outward from the depth of the breath. He coughed. That single action bent him at the waist, a mass making its way past his throat with more weight to it than a mere cough could ever hope for. The taste of blood on his teeth, coating his mouth, was replaced by a taste far more acrid and bitter than he would like. Something left his mouth as he remained doubled over; the dark mix of black, brown and red sending a wave of confusion through him as it splattered over the marble floor. A little more continued to leak from his lips, the red in the mix growing brighter as his throat continued to spasm and heave. A liquid Greg knew had to be human blood kept leaking from him and he couldn''t help but wonder what color his teeth were at this point, a dumb joke from what felt like years ago making its way into his head. Who brushes a single tooth at a time? Teethbrush is more like it. He felt a ridiculous grin work its way across his face and, through the haze of exhaustion, he began to laugh. ...Ow. A few seconds letter, Greg Veder let himself breathe again, wounded torso apparently not quite ready to support another laughing fit. Okay, I deserved that one. Wasn''t funny in third grade. Wasn''t funny now. Again¡­ Ow. Apparently, getting blasted by energy-beams, carved up by a machete, taking the force of a salvo of grenades to one or more body parts, and finishing with a round of impalement wasn''t good for you. Who knew? Another laugh. Another hacking cough of detritus being expelled from his insides like hocking a loogie, and the splash of something on the once-white tile beneath him. The boy didn''t bother raising his one good arm to wipe his mouth; the ash, dirt and blood staining the burnt remains of his costume was likely to leave more of a mess than it would remove if he tried. Man, he was tired. A yawn came unbidden to his freshly-healed lips. When was the last time he slept? Oh, right. That rooftop. Maybe¡­ Maybe he should take a nap or something. Surely, that couldn''t hurt, right? Right? No! The blond blinked his one good eye, shaking his head from side to side as he tried to fight the specter of exhaustion dragging him further and further down. No. Greg had things to do. ABB to hunt. A "Bakuda" to find, whoever that really was. He could sleep when he was done. It was less than ten seconds after he finally started to move again that his legs finally decided that he was done for him. Greg Veder''s eyes began to slip shut as he collapsed forward, consciousness already beginning to fade before he could even register the object that halted his fall. ...Closing his eyes for a few seconds wouldn''t hurt¡­ right? Right. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Quick Healer ¡ú Fast Healing Catch Your Breath ¡ú Warrior''s Breath Toughened Body ¡ú Iron Body
Perk(s) Gained Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Iron Body "I am not built as weakly as you are." Forget about being tougher than most people. Now, you''re just plain superhuman. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest
Title(s) Earned Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +???
Skill Gained! Mana Barrier Lv 1 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 20, 2011 6:36 PM Greg Veder woke up the way he usually did. ...Most days, at least. His mouth opened with a slight gasp as Greg was thrust forward into immediate consciousness and his body brimmed with an energy that he usually took for granted. He lay there, face-down, for a few moments, not even opening his eyes as he allowed the caffeine-like rush of energy in his system to settle down to something far more manageable. He blinked slowly, both eyes closing and opening again without the twinge of pain that some part of him had been expecting. Instead, that expected feeling was replaced by sheer comfort. What¡­ The blond remained still, letting out a toneless, meaningless sound of appreciation as he shifted slightly in bed, eyes still closed. When did my bed get so¡­ nice? The thought echoed in his head as he nestled deeper into the comfort of the mattress for a few moments, rubbing his uncomfortably matted hair against an unusually firm pillow that was somehow just as soft as the bed. Individual fingers twitched ¡ª one by one ¡ª until his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Greg opened them again, letting out a long, low breath of air. He regretted that an instant later as his eyes darted open from raw shock, nearly retching as the stench of his own breath wafted into his nostrils. Greg raised his head from the pillow, hoping that a lungful of fresh air would ease the smell, only to find himself having to struggle. "What the... " The words were muffled into the pillow as it rose with him, stuck to the side of his face for whatever reason. Dazed and confused, Greg''s hands rose to the pillow and wrenched it away from his cheek, wincing as the pillow seemed to make a sound that was equal parts crackling and ripping as it came away and fell onto his lap. Greg spared a glance down at the pillow now in his lap and found himself flinching again ¡ª recoiling at the mass of encrusted blood, dirt and hair that coated its formerly soft, pristine surface. He inhaled sharply before gagging on the stench of the tattered mask that still clung desperately to his face. "Jesus Christ¡­ Uggh, I can barely breathe with this thing on." The blond paused to let out a slight cough, immediately raising a hand to the base of his neck and gave the fabric a sharp tug to wrench it off. Shit. What remained of the balaclava came free in his grip, falling apart completely as frayed and burnt cloth finally gave up the ghost. The torn balaclava and battered, dented skull mask fell onto the pillow in his lap before clattering to the white tile floor below. All of a sudden, Greg flinched as his unprotected eyes were suddenly faced with the full glare of harsh fluorescent lights, the sudden stimulus forcing a few blinks out of him. With an annoyed groan, Greg tossed the dirty pillow from his lap and back onto the bed proper, his wincing gaze following it a moment later. For the second time that day, Greg Veder found himself recoiling in disgust. What was once a pristine white surface had now been dyed several colors; all of them dingy, unappealing and downright disgusting. The vigilante blamed it on all the dried blood and soot that had soaked into it all. "Christ on a cracker¡­" Greg let out a groan of pure revulsion as he glanced down at the surface of the bed, leaning back slightly from his position on the edge of the bed. "Can''t believe I did all this." Shaking his head, Greg thoughtlessly licked his parched lips, eyes widening as he realized what he did. A moment later, he found himself having to push back the bile rising in his throat, Greg almost gagging once more as the taste of blood and grime spread across his taste buds. "Son of a¡­" His hand jerked up almost instinctively to cover his mouth, his palm slapping against the flesh of his face with audible force. The blond went still a second later, the same hand falling away from his face. Greg blinked, his expression twisting in confusion as he stared at his own hand as if it was unfamiliar to him. He raised his hand again, much, much slower this time around, and prodded his cheek with four digits at once. Huh. Without a second thought, Greg slapped himself across the face. Hard. His head whipped to the side from the force of it, the harsh sound of flesh on flesh almost ringing in his ears as he shook his head. But, apart from that¡­ Nothing? He mouthed the word to himself, still blinking in subdued confusion. As odd as it sounded, he hadn''t felt a single bit of pain from the hit itself, the actual pressure and force from the self-inflicted slap aside. He could register what had happened and he could process the actual sensation but the instinctual sting of pain just wasn''t there. What the¡­ Greg looked down at both his hands, breathing in deep through his nose as he tried to process this new development. I don''t look any different¡­ Well, he paused to prod at his filth-encrusted chest, noting some added definition that hadn''t been there the last time he checked, Not too different. He flexed his fingers again, unsure of what exactly he was noticing. He feltdifferent, that was for certain, but how exactly that expressed itself was up for debate. It didn''t seem to be a matter of strength or anything along those lines; he knew what that was like already. If anything, he felt more¡­ solid, he guessed would be the term. What that meant for him, he wasn''t actually sure, but it didn''t seem to be a bad thing so it wasn''t like he needed to care all that much. What he actually needed to focus on was how much of a mess he currently was, considering he had been lying in his own filth for who knows how long. A frown grew on his face as he stared at his mostly bare arms and chest, smoke and dirt coated so thick on his upper body that he seemed to be wearing a black shirt. His gloves could barely be called such anymore, most of the cloth having been worn down to pitiful threads at this point, and his boots¡­ well, those were completely missing. The entirety of his costume had been mangled to the point that the only thing still in one piece were his trousers. Well, disregarding the massive rips in the cloth, of course. Really, it was no surprise that the bed and pillows were a mess, considering what Greg looked like. Being aware of how he looked seemed to awaken the rest of himself as a sense of strong discomfort made its way through his body when he tried not to scratch at his filth-encrusted body. "Just like right after Lung¡­" He muttered again, unable to stop himself with his fingers already going to work on a patch of dried blood and shriveled muscle fibers that his body had likely ejected and replaced sometime during his nap. "Only, no bathtub to wash off in." The young cape raised his head again, voice still somewhat raspy, and let out a confused grunt as he glanced around the room he found himself in. "Mattresses? A¡­ A mattress store?" Greg continued to look around, his first words apparently hitting the nail on the head. Mattresses upon mattresses filled the rather large showroom, each one slightly different from the rest. His eyes flicked over to the shattered glass door, a massive hole in both the upper and lower panes making said blue orbs widen. "...Shit," the syllable was followed up with a pitiful frown, a contrite expression to match his mood. The blond craned his head over at the mess of the door and then slid his gaze to the half-broken wall next to it, signs of someone attempting to break the door frame visible to the naked eye. "Seriously? I did all that too?" "No, that one wasn''t you." Greg sprung to his feet at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, entire body alert and surging to life in an instant. Before he could stop himself, the teen had already spun around with both hands raised, mana already geared up to launch fiery hell at whoever and whatever posed a threat. "Hello there." Greg blinked at the figure standing at the side of the room opposite the front entrance, an older man standing right by yet another door, this one leading further into the building''s interior, a still-damp mop leaning against the frame. The flames curling around his hands sputtered out immediately, the mana Greg had been feeding the pyrokinetic reaction coming to a sudden stop. Haltingly, the blond lowered his hands from their ready position and stared back, mind racing. My mask¡­ shit. I took my mask off without even looking¡­ Jesus, what''s wrong with me? Just say something. Say anything. Go already! "Uh¡­ Hi?" Solid. "Glad to see you awake." The adult male shuffled forwards and into the light of the mattress showroom, allowing Greg to get a better view of him. He wasn''t a small man, not in the slightest, but he wasn''t exactly tall either, powerful arms and a solid chest somewhat at odds with his apparent age. Dark-skinned and with a thick salt-and-pepper beard connecting to a similarly-colored mustache, the older man cut a rather stocky figure as he took a few steps closer to Greg. A pair of square-lensed glasses glinted in the light, hiding the man''s eyes for a second before he spoke up again. "Been out for a while, haven''t you?" "Uh¡­" Greg blinked, words again failing him. "I guess? Maybe an hour or two?" "You''ve been out for a good six, young man," the words came as the business-casually dressed man paused his forward movement by a stack of mattresses, a large and colorful ''Clearance!'' sticker stuck to each of them. "That''s worth a bit more than a guess." "S-S¡­ Six?" Greg blinked at that, more thrown by the number than anything else. "I''ve been out for six whole hours?" The man nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow as Greg stiffened again, visible worry making its way into both their expressions. "About that, I''d say. Truthfully, if it wasn''t for you talking up a storm in your sleep, I''d have long figured you as dead." Six hours? Six hours? Greg couldn''t help but shake his head as he tried to process that, the action more inherently violent than usual as he slammed a palm into his forehead repeatedly as he did so. Six hours!? So much could have happened in just one hour with the city going half to hell and here he was, wasting daylight on a stupid nap. Six¡­ whole¡­ Before he could launch into another mental tirade or continue beating himself over the head with his own hand, Greg felt the calming spread of [Gamer''s Mind]lapping at the shores of his mind, almost as if warning him that it was there more than actually doing anything. Letting out a growl that was more frustration than actual anger, Greg shook his head a second time, fingers digging into his palm as he tried to compose himself. A moment later, he forced a weak smile onto his face and glanced back up at the other figure in the room, the older man brushing something off his blue polo shirt as he waited patiently. Despite his [Danger Sense] not giving him any warning at all, Greg couldn''t help but feel a rising paranoia that was entirely his own. He had broken a door to get inside, passed out in this store for nearly a half day, and ruined a presumably expensive piece of this guy''s property and yet, the older man was as calm as ever. Something didn''t feel right about this. Greg raised a hand over his mouth with the pretense of scratching his nose and uttered a quiet ''Observe'', hoping to get some information before he allowed himself to say or do anything else.
Patrick Porterfield Simpson, Lv 11 Small Business Owner HP: 260/260 Patrick Simpson is the owner of the local Mattress King in Brockton Bay. A former police officer, but quit long ago for several reasons. Does not trust either the PRT or the Protectorate. Carries two handguns at nearly all times. Secret Justin Bieber fan.
Greg blinked at the second to last line, returning his gaze back to the man in question as he suddenly realized why he was so calm. Searching for something to say to break the silence, Greg turned back to glance at the blood-stained, filth-covered mattress and back over at the shattered door, mind already made up on what to say next as his gaze returned to the man who he now knew for sure owned this place. "Oh, I''m¡­ uh¡­ I''m sorry¡­" "Sorry?" Mr. Simpson glanced up, lips in a firm line as he surveyed Greg with a critical eye. "Only one''s feeling sorry here is me. A mattress-pillow set like that would go for about two grand, give or take..." He folded his thick arms over his chest, one eyebrow raised as he continued speaking. "No matter which way I spin it, still puts me about a thousand in the hole." Greg found himself blinking again, confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. "Uh¡­ I understand. I can give you that, I guess, but¡­ uh, what about the door?" There was more than a little confusion on the store owner''s face as he spared a moment to process Greg''s words. "What about the door?" There was silence from Greg at this, his mouth hanging partially open as he found himself struggling to answer yet again. "It''s¡­ It''s broken?" "And you''re telling me this because you want to do something about it," the ex-cop half stated, half asked Greg, eyebrow raised as if asking a question with far more depth. "I think s-" Greg cleared his throat again, idly flexing his arm to draw attention away from how uncertain he sounded. "Yes, I mean. Yes, I would like to do something," he replied, figuring the man wouldn''t say no to some money to cover costs. A little more than some would likely go a long way to keeping him quiet, too. There was silence between the two of them, Greg growing more uncomfortable as the older man continued to stare at him like he could read the teen like a book. After a silence that felt much longer than it probably was, Mr. Simpson let out a tired sigh, shoulders slumping for little more than a second as Greg heard him mutter something. The blond frowned as he managed to catch the word "kids", then the words "never change" and "bother to listen" following shortly after. Mr. Simpson gave Greg another once-over, eyes still narrowed before he shook his head again. He replied, "The door''s my problem, not yours." Greg opened his mouth, a question already on his lips when the dark-skinned man simply turned around without warning and began to walk back into the dimly lit hallway. Pausing for a second, he glanced over his shoulder and gestured back at Greg in a move that clearly said ''Come on.'' With that, he disappeared around the corner. "What?" Greg found himself mouthing, more than confused by the sudden shift in the conversation. Whatever. Shaking his head, the blond took a cautious step forward, common sense warring against bold impulse. A single step later and bold impulse won. What''s the worst that could happen? ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "...Oh, man¡­" Greg let out a not-so silent gasp of air as he shook his head without even meaning to, eyes closing for a few moments. "This is¡­ this is¡­" He shook his head again, mouth opening and closing almost without his control. "Kid, I''m gonna need you to relax a bit." Greg opened his eyes, pausing his fish-impersonation to glance up at the mattress store owner. The man in question had risen out of his seat when Greg wasn''t looking, already having poured himself a fresh and steaming cup of coffee in the interim. On the other side of him, on the counter, was a good-sized counter TV screen, its screen black and powered off as it sat next to a fat radio that looked at least a whole decade out of date. Greg wasn''t sure exactly what he was expecting when he followed behind the man just a few minutes ago. But being led into a well-lit break room and offered something to fill his empty stomach had not been in his top three guesses. "Hmmpf?" Mouth full and grimy face speckled with crumbs, the shirtless teen raised his eyebrows as he cast Simpson a questioning glance. After being on the receiving end of an expectant stare, he took the hint and managed to swallow the remainder of the roast beef sandwich he had just mowed through, the remaining acrid aftertaste of his own mouth and still somewhat-dirty hands somehow not spoiling the experience for him. Water and hand soap could only do so much, after all. Pausing yet again to clear his throat, Greg raised his gaze once more. "I mean, uh¡­ Yeah?" "I said, there''s no reason to eat that fast," Simpson spoke up again, raising the steaming mug slightly higher with each word. "Food''s not going anywhere and it''s nowhere near as good as you''re making it seem." The older man took a sip of his coffee, the large, black mug reading ''Best Boss'' in white print hiding his expression for a single moment. "I would know, since they''re leftovers from my friend''s deli a few blocks over." Greg allowed himself a slight grin, the expression slightly forced but undoubtedly familiar. "Sorry about that. I guess I haven''t really eaten anything that wasn''t energy bars in a while." His grin grew a little more as the man''s expression shifted back into one of interest. "Your friend''s sandwiches are real good, though. Guy knows his beef." "I''ll tell him you said that. But fair warning, he will use it as an endorsement." "Oh," Greg took another bite of a fresh sandwich, now eating at a much slower pace. "Why''s that?" "Because¡­ well," Simpson allowed himself another sip, the man letting out a soft exhale as he raised his lips from the mug, "the man loves capes. Old ones, new ones, young ones. It''s a hobby, you know." Greg''s grin wavered slightly. "Y-yeah, I can understand that." "Good that you do, ''cause I sure as hell don''t." The blond flinched at the sudden shutdown delivered in a suddenly grizzled tone, the older man''s expression darkening for a quick moment. In a few short steps, he made his way over to the round plastic table Greg sat at and took the seat across from him. "Football''s violent as all hell, but at least half my team isn''t dead or missing six months in. So, I have to ask..." Simpson raised the cup to his mouth again, eyes not leaving Greg as he did so. "... Why?" The teen swallowed another bite of beef, working his jaw as he set down the remainder of his sandwich on the paper plate in front of him. Letting out a long breath, Greg leaned back in the metal fold-out chair, blue eyes fixed on the store owner. "... Why what?" "You look about fourteen, kid. You should be at home or something¡­ waiting for this craziness to die down, doing whatever it is fourteen-year-old boys do to pass the time. Not¡­ not this." Greg didn''t have to force the slight smirk on his face at those words, the teen still leaning back in his chair as he replied, "First of all, almost sixteen here. Second¡­" Greg paused to let a soft hiss of air leave his mouth, the sound the closest thing to an honest laugh he could manage right now. "I mean¡­ what exactly do you think fourteen-year old boys do to pass the time?" "This is not a joke, kid." The black mug clinked down on the linoleum surface between them, a few drops of black coffee trailing down the side of the cup and pooling beneath it. "It stopped being funny when I saw you stumble in here, bleeding like a stuck pig and looking like you''ve been put through a meat grinder and a smokestack." "I can see that, I guess¡­" Greg offered a slight tilt of his head, one arm lazily draped over his bare chest. "... I mean, I always did think I smelled a little like pork. Which is super weird, ''cause I''ve never liked the taste." Simpson''s jaw tightened. "Kid¡­" "Man..." The retort was intended as light and humorous, but the intensity in the teen''s blue eyes and the slight bite in his tone gave the single syllable an edge that wasn''t necessary. "You really don''t understand?" "Depends," Greg replied flatly, the smirk on his face at odds with his suddenly uninterested delivery. "There''s a lot I don''t understand and a lot I don''t want to understand." Part of him wanted to call it some sort of victory as Simpson''s hands tightened into fists on the table at his retort, but the rest of him wondered why he was still even here, apart from needing to keep the old man silent somehow. Patrick Simpson let out another sigh, the man raising his gaze as he dragged his seat even closer to the table, the slight screech of rubber soles on tile going ignored by both occupants. "Listen¡­ Listen real close and let me tell you something¡­" Simpson leaned closer, voice low enough that he wouldn''t have been heard if Greg wasn''t the only other person in the quiet room. "I''ve been stuck in this goddamn store since Sunday afternoon with nothing but those two boxes behind me to pass the time. I''ve seen you on the news and I''m pretty sure I''ve heard about you on the radio." Yay for me. The thought was tinged by not a small amount of bitterness, Greg already imagining how the news was showing him as getting ragdolled trying to pull of a rescue attempt and needing to get saved in the end by the very person he was saving. He''d be lucky to escape total humiliation after this. Looks like I''m famous. On the outside, he simply crossed his other arm over his chest as his smirk slowly faded from his face. "And?" "Do you want to end up in a morgue, son?" Greg felt himself audibly groaning before he could stop himself, an imaginary pressure building up in his forehead as he forced himself not to flinch. "Please¡­ please don''t call me that again." A raised eyebrow joined the piercing stare being sent his way. "What, you mean ''s-?" "Yes, that word." The teen nodded as he interrupted the store owner. "No offense, I''m sure you''re a great dad but I already have one of those." "Kid, this stopped being funny a long time ago," Simpson dropped bluntly. "You need to stop whatever this is before it''s too late. Just¡­" An exhale left the older man as he rubbed his chin in silence for a few moments, eyes not leaving Greg''s. "Just tell me, what exactly do you think you''re accomplishing out here like this? You think killing yourself is gonna get you anywhere? What do you think you''re doing than the cops can''t? That the PRT can''t?" The cape remained silent. "You really think any of that makes you a hero?" Greg blinked, mouth performing an imitation of the Sahara as the question sunk into his bones. "I mean¡­" The blond''s eyes widened just a bit further. "I¡­ I am¡­" Memories flashed through his mind of the last few days. Screams from thousands, the wails of the suffering and the cries of the gangsters as he hunted each and every one of them down, his own laughter as he simply mowed through them. So many burnt-out husks¡­ an entire apartment building warped in on itself like an Escher painting¡­ a side street full of what looked like but couldn''t possibly be simple ice sculptures¡­ Not like that. All things he couldn''t even help with in a million years if he tried... The blond turned away and licked his lips, a distant expression on his face as he looked back at Simpson again. "You know what? I''m¡­ I''m not sure. Least not anymore." "Oh?" There was silence between the both of them, Simpson''s mouth still trapped in a perfect O as he muddled over the answer he definitely had not been expecting to receive. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought I was, you know." Greg worked his jaw again as his gaze dropped, opening it and closing it with repeated clicks like an infant discovering the wonder of teeth for the first time. "I thought it was just that simple. Cool costume plus superpowers multiplied by the number of bad guys taken down. A few factors to add in, maybe, but other than that¡­ Yeah. Basic hero equation." "...And your parents were just okay with this?" The question came off as hollow, Simpson''s face oddly tight as if preemptively regretting the question. "M-my¡­ my m-mom¡­" Greg shut his eyes tightly, trying to force back tears that weren''t even there as he felt himself calming down almost immediately. He opened his eyes almost immediately after, a smile on his face that he couldn''t feel. "My mom''s the reason I''m still out here." "..." "Not just her. There was this girl¡­ She was the first one who ever liked me¡­" He screwed his eyes shut one more time, again fighting tears that didn''t exist. "Like, like liked me. And I saved her the first time and I thought I was in the clear¡­ I did my job, right? The hero''s duty, y''know. I saved the girl. I even got her to the hospital and my mom was there and then¡­ then¡­" "That hospital?" "Yeah, that one." Greg shook his head several times, vague sounds of disagreement escaping him as he did so. "...It was my fault, you know. I wasn''t ready. I w-wasn''t¡­ I wasn''t..." He paused for a moment, single fist tapping against his chest in a staccato beat as he stared down the recalcitrant store owner. "I wasn''t thinking. If¡­ If I had payed attention, if I had gotten my head together¡­ If I had focused¡­" The teen took in a shallow breath, controlling himself again before something could do it for him. "There''s a reason I''ve been running around trying to stop all this¡­ Looking for the person behind all the explosions, trying to stop the ABB before they could set off any more. I was doing something good, y''know? And I messed up, yeah, but I''m¡­ I''m the good guy h-here." He patted himself on the chest, voice taking on an almost pleading tone. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. "I''m the only one who seems to be doing anything cause I haven''t seen a single real hero actually taking down a single one. I''m just one guy, right? You''d think they''d be ahead of the game a little more. But noooo." Greg''s eyes closed yet again as he shook his head. "No, they''re just flying around while the city''s on fire probably doing photo ops and playing peacekeeper and just¡­ justlettingthosemonsterswalkarou¡­" His knuckles went white.
[PTSD] negated by Gamer''s Mind.
Greg''s breath could be heard for a quiet few moments, his clenched fists slowly descending onto the table. As they made contact, he spoke up again. "I''m sorry. I''ve just been so angry and I''ve tried real hard not to be, ''cause it''s really fucking hard to hold b-" He cut himself off and took in another breath, licking dry lips to buy himself a moment more before speaking again. "... There was this explosion last night. ABB set off a bomb that turned everything around it into goo¡­ including a gas main. An abandoned building south of the Docks went up and I was there. I tried to put it out¡­ tried to pull the flames out of the building. Didn''t work that well so I tried blowing the fire out with as much wind as I could manage¡­" "... I heard about that." "Yeah, I b-bet you did." Greg suppressed a slight shudder at the thought of it, the teen still surprised by how quickly things had¡­ flared up. "Look, I..." A bit of nervous laughter escaped his lips before he could stop himself, Greg not even knowing where it came from. "...I fucked up. I keep fucking up. Just¡­ over and over. There''s so much I could have done different, done better¡­ So much time I could have not wasted." Mr. Simpson seemed to be struggling as Greg continued to speak, the man flinching several times as he laid bare what was currently bothering him. "Young man¡­" "So much time I spent running around fighting bad guys¡­ for what?" The blond let out an audible snort, mouth far too wide for the expression on his face to be a simple grin. "I haven''t done a single thing to actually help anyone or fight any criminals for a reason that wasn''t¡­ selfish. I called myself a fuckin'' hero cause of that. I knew and I didn''t even care. It just felt good to be something, to do big things. I was strong and fast and powerful¡­ And even when I got beat into the ground, I felt untouchable." His too-wide smile restrained itself, lips pulling back into a distant smile. "I know it was selfish but... it was fun, I guess? I was a hero ''cause it was fun? Yeah, that''s pretty much it." Greg shook his head as he leaned forward on the table, gaze dropping to the table''s drab, gray surface as he hung his head.
WIS + 1
Another sigh escaped his mouth, the young blond faced with unwanted confirmation of his own realization "...You''re right." "I am?" Even without looking, he could hear the feigned disbelief in the older man''s tone. "Mind telling me what about?" Greg didn''t even bother to raise his head, eyes screwed shut as the he groaned into his hands. "You don''t have to rub it in, okay? I''m not a hero, I get it. I''m just a selfish, stupid kid who''s in over his head," he replied, tone as blunt as he had ever been. "Are we done here?" The break room was left with a pregnant silence, the only sound interrupting the quiet being the gentle tick-tock of the clock hanging to the right of the fridge. "... August 15, 1995." Greg blinked at that, confused by the non-sequitur even as he kept his head down. "It was a Tuesday," the older man continued, voice wistful. "And I had just celebrated my fortieth birthday the week before." The teen lifted his head, making eye contact with the store owner immediately. "What?" Patrick Simpson raised his eyebrows, the mug in his hand just inches away from his lips. "That was the day I turned in my badge. I was a cop fifteen straight years and I made sergeant five years prior. Wanna know why I quit?" Greg didn''t answer, simply blinking as he wondered what this had to do with anything. "Well, I''ll tell you," Simpson continued on as if Greg had actually responded, lowering the coffee to the table without even taking a sip. "Just two years before that, the PRT became official and just like that, capes were officially out of the hands of guys like me." The older man let out a chuckle that sounded more bitter than anything else. "Years of my life fighting idiots in masks and all of a sudden, I wasn''t good enough. Pissed me off like you wouldn''t believe." Simpson''s mouth opened in a broad and toothy smile, coffee-stained front teeth and dark gums on display. "I liked being a cop and I liked fighting capes. Made me feel good. Made me feel a rush. Was I reckless because of that? Selfish? Stupid? Of course¡­ but it don''t change the fact that I was still a cop. I did what I had to. I put away criminals; both parahumans and regular like me. Why should any of my own hang-ups take away from the good I did?" The hint of a smile formed on Greg''s face, just thin enough to barely be noticed. "No matter why I put on the uniform, it doesn''t make fifteen years of hard, honest work meaningless. I don''t think the people in this city care all that much whypeople help them. What matters is that they actually do. And I''d be a liar if I said you weren''t doing at least that much. I hear it on the television and the radio ¡ª while the Protectorate and PRT ran around the city, trying to put out the fires, someone out there was helping the police make arrests on multiple ABB strongholds, and keeping keeping people safe from looters and thugs. And, kid, as sad as that is for me to deal with, I bet that someone''s you." There was another stretch of silence as Simpson rose out of his chair, the old man''s smile dimming to nothing. His mouth became a thin line, an odd pain in his eyes as he stared at the boy across from him. Greg stared back expectantly, spirit rising as he took in the ex-cop''s commendation, backhanded as it was. "I can''t stop you, kid. I wish I could say I don''t think you''re gonna end up getting yourself killed... but it''s your life and your choice if you wanna waste it." A light came back into Greg''s eyes at that, defiant yet strangely hopeful. "I''m not wasting it and I''m not gonna stop either," Greg finally replied, voice edged with firm resolve. The slight smile on his face threatened to spread further as he stood up himself, the chair beneath him screeching on the floor as he slid it back. "I''m doing what I have to." "...Are you?" If the older man had been expecting a thoughtful reply from Greg, he was about to be severely disappointed as a twinkle of mischief shined in the teen''s eyes. "Of course I am. Beats hiding out in the back of a mattress store." The older man''s laugh was unexpected, Greg nearly flinching at the sudden raspy sound Simpson let out. "Can''t deny that one, can I?" The harsh chuckle was nearly as much a surprise to Greg as the wrinkled hand the store owner stuck out. "Pat Simpson." After a moment of quiet thought, Greg reciprocated with his own. Skin made contact with skin and they shook, Greg''s thin smile bursting out into a grin as Simpson let out a slight sigh, as if already regretting it. "Greg Veder." They pulled back from the handshake, both of them falling back to an awkward silence as they stared each other down with far less tension than before between them. "So," Pat began, hands falling to his waist. "Would I be wrong in assuming that you aren''t going to stop until either you or the ABB give up the ghost?" "That was the plan, yeah," Greg replied with only a slight snort at the terminology. He nodded his head regardless, lips jutting out slightly as he gave the question a moment''s thought. "Why?" "Because..." the dark-skinned man began with a sigh as he walked over to the counter behind him, "If this doesn''t make you rethink things, I really don''t know what will." That said, he pressed a button on the side of the small television, the screen quickly fading in from pure black to the over-saturated graphics of Brockton Bay local news. Blue eyes widened as the images on screen continued to play in front of him, Greg barely paying attention to the actual words being said as the shaky video and the text beneath it captured his full focus. His head snapped back to Simpson, neck moving so fast that it would threaten almost anyone else with whiplash at the very least. He had only word on the tip of his tongue. "When?" "...About an hour before you came to." Another sigh left the older man. "I''m assuming you still haven''t changed your mind?" The grin on his face stretched wide enough that it almost hurt. "Complete opposite." "Of course," the mattress store owner muttered. "But, first things first¡­" Greg glanced down at his blood-encrusted and soot-stained body, hands in determined fists at his sides as he looked back up at the adult in the room. "I''m gonna need a shower." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: Ninja - In Training
Level 23 Experience 18500/38000
Health 1757/1757
Mana 515/515
Willpower 592/592
STR 66 SPD 63 (+2)
VIT 100 INT 51
WIS 19 (-70%) CHA 27 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 41
Perk Points 2
Cash $505,700.82
Traits Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled For some, baptism by fire tends to be a symbolic term. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
Perks Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Iron Body "I am not built as weakly as you are." Forget about being tougher than most people. Now, you''re just plain superhuman. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) [Ranked Ability] You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/per 2 seconds)
Titles Dragon-Blooded Knight My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. Title grants +10% overall Damage Resistance in addition to all regular resistances one has with an additional 10% resistance to fire, +10 to VIT, + 5 to STR, + 100 to Health and +50% Damage against any creature bearing the form of [Dragon]. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Ninja-In-Training [ACTIVE] It''s my ninja way!!! Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 25% and + 2 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Adept Aerokinesis Lv 4 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Basic Pyrokinesis Lv 13 Burn, baby, burn! Generate flames and control them up to a range of 9 meters. Increases in range by 1 meter every other level. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 12 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by 25% with each level. (2.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 3 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 16 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 23 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and health by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (165%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%. (750%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Mana Barrier Lv 1 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 17 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (8.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 26 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 17 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (34%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 14 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 6 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (12%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 8 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (8%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 11 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (22%) Reflexes Lv 15 DODGE! Decreases innate reaction time by 10% per level and increases innate perception speed by the same amount.(150%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 66 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (49.5%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 47 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (47%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 37 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (27.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 25 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (50%) Taunt Lv 11 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (22%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Glorious Cutscene: Glorious ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "¨Ctuation isn''t looking good in the slightest. All we have to go off are statements from the man h¨C" "¨Csmaster, Miss Militia, Triumph, Manpower, Glory Girl, and Lady Photon have been seen maintaining the perimeter ar¨C" "-uations are still ongoing! Repeat! Evacuations are still ongoing! Stay safe and wait for BBPD, PRT or Protectorate guida-" "¨Corts indicate that the Brocton Bay police, PRT and Protectorate have been hard at work in attempts to locate the explosive ¡ª which some are now calling The ABB Superbomb ¡ª but without a def¨C" "¨Comeone like Lung doesn''t need bombs. The man is a [beep]-ing bomb. Don''t even bring up hostages either! He''s held the entire city hostage just by living here for the last [beep][beep] deca¨C" "-ielder still out of play, of course, but Laserdream has been spotted assisting Brandish and Flashbang in evacuations as well as creating firebreaks and tackling some of Lung''s men along with Battery and the PRT. No word yet on the location of Dauntless, Velocity, Assault or any of the W-" "¨Ce fandom knows what it wants and it wants a fight! A slaughter! A throwdown for the ages! This is gonna be a match to remember so let''s live and let die! LIVE! CAPE! BLOODSPORTS! The best thing you''ll never get anywhere else, brought to you right here on L33tNatio¨C" "¨CIt''s been over an hour now and it doesn''t seem that the Protectorate has any intention of actually facing Lung. Estimated death to¨C" "-ey''ve got a ten-foot tall, fire-breathing villain stomping around, setting chunks of Downtown on fire like he owns the place, and a bunch of his trigger-happy goons playing keep-away with the PRT and pol-" "¨Che Protectorate can''t really be buying time for some random new cape, can they? What kind of Hail-Mary play is this? I don''t care what Lung threatens, this sort of action is a direct violation of everything the organization stands f¨C" "¨Cnearly two hours into the standoff and Lung is showing no signs of backing down, his bomb threat still hanging in the minds of every Brockton Bay reside¨C" "-irect confrontation is out of the question. The BBPD has had to deal with the aftermath of Lung''s rampages before and we can tell you very well that even with evasive tactics, you run the risk of escal-" "¨Cust be asking right now is, how is the Protectorate going to salvage this situation?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C An explosion of broken glass surrounded her form as she dove through the balcony window, arms crossed in front of her face. She didn''t stop there, rocketing further forward into the shoddy second-floor apartment, a jet of fire nipping at her heels and overwhelming the balcony she had just crashed through, turning it to slag in an instant. A short moment later, Glory Girl halted her movement before she would have met another obstacle in the form of cheap drywall, her flight-power arresting her momentum nigh¨Cinstantly. The girl''s fists tightened at her sides as she took in several quick yet calming breaths, before spinning around in mid-air to face the new, flaming hole in the wall where that window had been. Blue eyes suddenly widened as the entire building suddenly shook around her, chipped paint falling from the walls like snow all around her. In most other situations, she''d be scowling at the mess of what now looked like dandruff caking her perfectly-styled hair but the sound that had accompanied the rumbling of the building ¨C the ground-shaking roar of the dragon outside ¨C kept her mind firmly on track. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Glory Girl rushed right back out the building the exact same way she came, wind rushing past her as she cleared the building''s confines in a near instant. Without wasting a moment, the blonde accelerated to three¨Cquarters her top speed in a matter of seconds, her white-clad form bursting above the skyline before she could be caught back up in the mess at ground¨Clevel. Still breathing heavier than she would like, Glory Girl cast her gaze down at the fight below and fought the urge to cringe. Chaos. If anyone had ever bothered to ask Victoria Dallon what she loved most in just one word, past that of her family or her boyfriend, that was likely the answer she would give you. Most would have assumed ''heroics'', ''attention'', ''flying'' or maybe even, ''fighting.'' Those who would have picked the latter would also be right, in a sense, but also just as wrong as anyone else. The answer was more than it seemed and more complicated than most would give it credit for. Yet, it was all the same rather simple. It wasn''t just fighting that Victoria loved. It was the real fights; the fights that made her struggle, the fights that got her blood pumping, her heart pounding in her ears as she narrowly avoided a hit that could pop her shield like an all-too-fragile soap bubble, the rare fights where everything was a constant rush of motion¡­ The fights that could only be described with one single word; chaos. Still, at the moment, she couldn''t help but be reminded that too much of a good thing had a tendency to go real bad, real quick. Bright blue eyes darted open as wide as they could go, sudden fear filling them as Glory Girl suddenly shifted gears. Her investigating hover turned into a mad, evasive spiral as the emptiness she vacated was suddenly filled by a rush of heat and roaring sound. With only that little warning to go off of, a burst of flame with the form and speed of a crude missile tore through the air scant feet from Glory Girl with several more following after it. Shit! She had her orders, of course. Run interference. No direct combat. Keep the fighting to an absolute minimum. If Armsmaster''s brusque voice hadn''t made that clear, her mother''s own words surely had. It was a shame nobody bothered telling Lung the same as the villain was hell-bent on turning this game of keep-away into an all-out brawl to the death. And something told her she really didn''t want to see if her shield could withstand more than one of those flaming missiles when she narrowly dodged one that detonated on her heels. The conflagration sent a surge of heat rippling through the air, ruffling her skirt and hair as she yelped. "Son of a-!" The blonde bit off a curse as she twisted, pulling an Immelmann turn to avoid an errant lance of flame, then barrel-rolling around one of those many silver drones flying around the area. Talk about close! The drones were just another nuisance in this hellscape; flying cameras streaming the entire fight to those gimmicky idiots, Uber & L33t. She''d already had to dodge around several of them so far as they flew in to capture the action at every angle. And while she may enjoy the occasional photo-op, having them flying around while she was trying to do her job was annoying. She could already imagine the commentary both Uber & L33t must have been adding to their footage; the two picking apart her every move, all to feed-creeps and trolls that just wanted to tear down a true hero of this city. Assholes. Sadly, the drones seemed to be indestructible... or close enough, at least ¡ª a major shock, considering Leet''s builds were notorious for being dangerously unreliable ¡ª displaying impressive resistance against both Lung''s fire-blasts and the "accidental" super-strong punch. Force-fields. They weren''t any fun when the villains had them! Glory Girl twisted and twirled while streaking through the sky like a white comet, pursued by shooting stars of red-yellow flame, circling the perimeter of this burning Downtown plaza while Lung did his best to duel with the Protectorate heroes below. That wasn''t to imply that Lung was losing, or anything like that. The heroes were just doing their best to avoid actually fighting with the rampaging dragon-man, relying on tactics that were too diversionary to even classify as hit-and-run. Glory Girl knew the point of this whole thing was to avoid direct combat with Lung as much as possible, barring these few moments they used to keep him hemmed in within the area the villain had chosen as a staging ground. The name of the game was ''stalling''. And they had to stall hard. Lung wasn''t the goal. Not really. His ''super-bomb'' ¡ª a weapon of destruction far greater than the city had suffered in the last few days that Lung claimed to possess, hidden somewhere in the city, when he captured a news-team to broadcast his threats and demands ¡ª was the only thing anyone really cared about. The other teams scouring the city had to find it before they risked going all-out on Lung. Otherwise, they''d end up losing either way. And Lung wasn''t making their job any easier. Not in the slightest. A blazing heat roared from behind Glory Girl, the air suddenly far warmer than she would like. She found herself gritting her teeth as she tried to push it, pouring on the speed in an attempt to outspeed the several bursts of semi-solid flame threatening to enclose on her. Goddammit¡­ "I could use a little h-help here!" She couldn''t help the crack in her voice, her tone jumping from forced calm to nervous shrillness mid-sentence as she quickly spun to avoid yet another fireball. Victoria Dallon tightened her expression, putting on a determined face as she darted around an empty, scorched billboard. Not the time. A thunderclap rang out from the upper floors of a blazing apartment building moments after, the ear-splitting crack of an anti-material rifle as it penetrated steel and asphalt. Its original target - Lung - had just barely dodged the bullet itself, the shot narrowly missing his temple as the villain turned his head to roar. Near miss or not, it did its job. Another blonde shot past Glory Girl in the air, peppering the draconic villain with bright purple shots of energy and tearing his attention further away from the Alexandria-package in the air. Forcefields bearing the same hue threatened to enclose on him, Lung treating them with as much patience as he did the strafing blasts from Lady Photon as he exploded through them with strength enough to rival a certain blonde. A figure in blue armor leaped off a near roof, form almost blurring as he landed atop a burnt car husk with a violent crunch and began rushing towards the pyrokinetic. Victoria couldn''t help but note the slight differences in the Tinker''s armor from when she had first seen him earlier; the design was far bulkier and more organic than she was used to, and the mechanical servos that were usually visible between the armored plating looked far more like human muscle now. Whatever its actual purpose, Armsmaster did seem to be operating on a much higher level than usual so Glory Girl doubted she''d have any complaints for him. Lung didn''t seem to appreciate Armsmaster''s uninvited approach, regardless of velocity, displaying the depth of his annoyance with a swipe of his scaled arm in the man''s direction. A near-solid wall of flame coalesced from Lung''s aura and shot towards the bearded cape with frightening speed. The immense breadth of the flame-wall left Armsmaster no real room to dodge. Thankfully, he didn''t need to. Halberd suddenly in hand, Armsmaster twirled the pole-arm in front of him and swung the tip of it upwards in a sharp crescent. A thunderous sound blared out and with nearly as much speed as Lung''s own fire blasts, a burst of air larger than the man himself shot from the tip of Armsmaster''s halberd, tearing apart the integrity of the firewall. Not wasting a moment, Armsmaster leaped over and through the fading conflagration, the man running along the side of a building with seemingly no strain as he readied his halberd again and let loose a thin jet of snow-white foam all over Lung''s feet, the chemical solution quickly expanding along the villain''s lower body. Judging by Lung''s roar and the explosion that followed, he didn''t seem to appreciate that. That short series of distractions provided Glory Girl the few seconds she needed to maneuver out of the path of another incoming set of fireballs, several of them colliding into each other as a barrage of others converged on her location. One detonation set off another, creating a chain of explosions that seemed to rip the air apart with just their shockwave, and with much greater force than the young heroine had been expecting. With a near-panicked yell, Glory Girl found herself flung from the air by the blast, tumbling head over heels through plumes of smoke as she tried to regain her bearings. It took a few moments of out-of-control flailing and another to pull her cape away from her face before the blonde powerhouse was able to right herself and dart for cover, but she managed it regardless. "Thanks, guys!" Glory Girl managed to call out, voice dipping slightly as she jerked to her right to avoid the husk of a burned-out truck stuck in the middle of the road. Shaking her head at the near-miss, Victoria ducked low and around the side of a half-burned parking lot, barely even curbing her speed as she ducked into the third floor of a formerly mid-renovating building, quickly making her way in-and-out all the way to the roof, to scan the area for civilians. Thankfully, there didn''t seem to be any. Unfortunately, there seemed to be plenty of ABB to take their place. "Are you kiddi-" She darted around a corner, not even bothering to finish what she had to say as the sound of gunfire filled the air, bullets on a direct path toward where she was. Not for the first time this afternoon, Glory Girl found herself having to corral a bunch of the gangsters herself. They seemed to think that their machine guns and pistols would succeed where Lung''s fireballs hadn''t. How they managed to sneak past the scores of PRT officers milling around the ground level and the other heroes working this sector of downtown eluded her completely. Much like their bullets. After all, none of them clearly had any experience trying to shoot targets as fast as she was. Nor did they stand any chance against someone who could collapse the floor beneath their feet by smashing a load-bearing wall ¡ª one already weakened by the devastation of the battle it bordered and general structural damage ¡ª by flying through it. Their cries of panic and horror were sweet music to her ears, a grin still on her face a few seconds later as she let the PRT officers on the comms know about the small squad she''d just stalled for them. Another roar cut her off mid-sentence, Glory Girl somehow stumbling in mid-air at the sudden closeness of the sound. Glory Girl thrust an arm out in front of her, flight-power responding immediately as she burst out of the building in a blur of white, quickly ascending to skyscraper-like heights to avoid Lung''s attention. She darted around in the air, not quite leaving her position as she used her eyes to hunt for the source of that specific sound. PRT vehicles raced through side streets, agents taking the fight to what remained of the ABB in this area. A flash of yellow from one alley and the sound of distant gunfire and explosions let her know that her uncle wasn''t too far from the majority of the action, assisting where he could. A sound like an air cannon on steroids accompanied by a storefront window shattering into a thousand pieces told Glory Girl exactly where Triumph was. It didn''t take very long before she caught sight of her real target, blue eyes widening slightly as she spotted Lung ¨C the dragon-man having grown slightly more yet again ¨C on all fours as he attempted to chase down a narrowly evading Armsmaster. That''s not good. Her eyes widened slightly further as she spotted the bright purple trail of her aunt, the woman flying slower than usual as she took off from the roof of a building on the verge of collapse, a force-field bubble trailing behind her and a familiar passenger in tow, clutching some sort of wound. Miss Militia? Glory Girl felt her chest tighten in worry. That''s even worse! She fought the unease in her stomach, desperately hoping Miss Militia wasn''t too badly hurt. While she did care for the older woman, her feelings stemmed from cold rationale just as much as they did from genuine empathy. They couldn''t afford to lose a cape right now, not when they were barely k- Before her thoughts could go any further, a long keening noise and a clamoring, thunderous din ¨C like a rainstorm heard from inside a house ¨C demanded her attention. The blonde quickly snapped her head to the side, blue eyes widening even further as she spotted what looked like a singularity form on the rooftop edge of a parking garage a few short blocks away ¨C mind-bending color scheme shifting to a more tolerable blue as it twisted into itself ¨C several ABB suddenly swirling into its epicenter, every inch of their bodies stretching in wholly unnatural ways and a third of the entire building just vanishing completely. The thunderous crumbling didn''t cease as the garage began to fall apart, several black-clad figures atop the roof of it visible as they rushed toward their similarly-colored SUV, dragging and carrying wounded officers with them. Holy shit! Glory Girl was already off before she could stop herself, cape fluttering behind her as she burst through the air to the PRT''s rescue. She shot down at a sharp right angle before Lung could turn his attention back to her, the sudden dive augmenting her flight speed to the point that everything not in front of her was barely more than a hazy blur. Hair whipping back and wind screaming in her ears, Glory Girl quickly shifted her downwards motion, pulling up just enough that her momentum was preserved as she burst directly towards the crumbling building at speeds slightly faster than she could manage on her own. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Even then, she wasn''t quite fast enough. Five stories of concrete began to fall apart as she neared the garage nearly ten seconds later, the vehicle marked P.R.T. in bright white letters desperately tearing towards the ramp leading towards the second floor. Said ramp crumbled beneath frantically spinning wheels, the ground dropping out from beneath the vehicle frighteningly fast. For the span of a heartbeat, the armored vehicle seemed to hang in the air, alongside that of the concrete rubble, struts, and metal; the entire world caught in the single act of resisting the pull of gravity. That moment passed frighteningly quick. The car dropped like a stone, alongside everything else, the vehicle tumbling over itself with no ground to support it. Concrete crumbled with a sound like thunder, battering the falling vehicle like a storm of bullets as it rushed towards the ground and¡­ "...nngggh!" She felt her shield flicker off as the armored SUV struck her, her strength failing her for a frightening moment. Still, Glory Girl held tight, shield flaring back to life half an instant later as her body supported the weight of several tons of metal in nigh-blatant disregard of anything as mundane as leverage or impact force. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but what was a little pain here and there? Even with the vehicle on her shoulders, she refused to slow down much, barreling through an already-shattered concrete fixture. Powdered by gray dust and bits of rubble, Glory Girl didn''t allow herself to stop moving, flying through the chaos until she found herself back out onto the street. Jesus¡­ Her mouth opened wide as she took in a desperate mouthful of air, the SUV coming down off her shoulders with as much care as she could manage. As a result, it only bounced a little as it landed on the street, tires sinking as the vehicle''s suspension finally gave up what semblance of life it had clung to. The SUV was a mess from the outside, the entire side of the car crumpled and bent from where Glory Girl had tackled it out of the air. The front wheel that she could see from the left side hung uselessly, the thing entirely out of place and the side panel above it half-missing, the other half nowhere to be seen. The entire hood had disappeared, what remained of it nothing more than a strip of metal swinging up and down pointlessly on hinges that held tight to almost nothing. Thankfully, the inside was nowhere near as damaged as the outside as the car, Victoria quickly noted. Unconscious or dazed enough that the point was rendered moot, the agents inside still showed signs of life; breathing and groaning most obvious among those. Slowly-deflating airbags revealed several visored faces, the figure sitting in the driver''s position raising his face from the steering wheel, surprise visible behind the shattered visor of his combat helmet. The man''s mouth dropped open in surprise the moment she made eye contact, which was expected, of course. Having that effect on people was basically part of the job description as a member of New Wave but¡­ Victoria stepped further back, unconsciously floating again as she watched the man''s eyes widen further, gaze growing distant and expression paling as she began to rise into the air. It only took that long before the realization hit her like a speeding car. Oh, no. Glory Girl spun around to see him with his body surrounded by a cloak of flame as he rushed towards her, the ground just now beginning to tremble. She glanced back at the frightened agent in the vehicle, only for her heart to sink in her chest as she realized the burly officer had joined the rest of the van in unconsciousness for a second time. God, no. Eyes trained from looking down at a city from distant heights noticed the insect-like pincer Lung called a face twisting into a grin as he noticed Glory Girl''s hesitance to escape and her refusal to get near. Oh, God no. "I need back-up! Like now! Like, right now! " She didn''t fight the urge to scream into her comm, several shades of fear coloring her voice more than she would like to admit as the thing released bursts of incomprehensible static in her ear. "Armsmaster! Triumph! Anybody! Lung''s moving on me and I''ve got trapped unconscious PR-" Lung bellowed again, silencing Glory Girl as his roaring seemed to make the air tremble much the same way his physical form did to the ground. Relief filled the teenager''s chest as she spotted Lady Photon''s signature purple aura flit through buildings as she neared Lung to strafe by again. Purple bolts lanced from Lady Photon''s hands in barely-aimable volleys of steel-denting energy, raining down on Lung in an attempt to keep the gang boss in place through sheer effort. Lung didn''t seem to have any respect for the woman''s effort, commendable as it was, only looking up at the leader of New Wave as he sent a volley of his own to meet her with an angry swipe of his arms. Glory Girl couldn''t help but gasp as she saw them come together almost at once, launching from the fires burning around the eleven-foot villain with frightening speed; a ground-to-air missile barrage of yellow-red fireballs nearly as large as she was. Lady Photon made to move, intent on weaving her way through Lung''s attacks, much the same way her niece had been doing repeatedly for minutes at a time. Glory Girl, on the other hand, felt the relief she had been feeling drop away as she realized what her aunt was attempting. Her hand flew to her ear, hopefully trying to get her comm to work again so she could warn her aunt. She herself had barely gotten used to dodging Lung''s barrages as the fireballs slowly got faster and larger over the past thirty minutes, Glory Girl learning how best to move to avoid the things. Without that, she doubted Lady Photon could manage the same. "Lady Photon! Lady Photon, can you hear me? Lady Ph- Aunt Sarah!" One finger in her ear, Glory Girl''s comm crackled as she tried it again, the thing continuing to let off bursts of static in between the sounds of a nigh-inaudible voice on the other end. Goddammit, not now! As she expected, Lady Photon couldn''t avoid the blasts, especially with Lung exerting control over them as they seemed to chase you down for a time. A purple-tinted shield formed around her as she tried to escape each persistent missile, another one layered around the first for extra protection. Yet, they weren''t as effective as she would like, Glory Girl unable to hold back a groan as she watched her aunt get battered out of the sky and the scaled villain continued his charge. Victoria steeled herself as she began to feel the encroaching heat from where she stood, the heroine realizing she was going to have to lead Lung on another chase, if only to keep the people behind her safe. The young heroine rose a few feet into the air, letting out a shout as loud as she could manage, and flared up her aura as high as she could, broadcasting her challenge to Lung. One fist drawn back in a pose that made her intentions clear as day, she stared down the charging form of the villain in her path as she flew out to face him. "You and me, asshole! Let''s do this!" Lung rose to the bait without even a moment of hesitation, the flames on his body almost seeming to find new life at the idea of a direct challenge. A plume of fire burst to life around his face, crowning the villain with a lion''s mane of hellish flame as Lung let out an eager roar. The ground only trembled more as the scaled colossus redoubled his charge, limbs brimming with a blue-yellow flame that seemed far more solid than any flame should. A wave of nigh-unbearable heat buffeted Glory Girl as she neared Lung, the ground below him turning to melted asphalt from what she could see through the haze. He wasn''t too far away now, barely a block from where she currently was, tossing aside empty cars and the husks of larger vehicles on his beeline toward the blonde Alexandria-package challenging him to a brawl. Glory Girl poured on the gas, intending to blindside the villain and shoot past him, forcing another chase she was bound to win. It was a simple plan, the same one she had used against Lung over and over in the last hour of this mess, but it wasn''t like Lung was much of a thinker anyway, right? Mind made up, she shot forward even faster, her cape fluttering like mad behind her and the world blurring at the edges of her vision as she forced herself into the triple digits. With the sound of screeching metal and crumbling concrete, Lung slammed to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, his charge halted as he dug a claw into the ground to slow himself down as quick as possible. Glory Girl''s eyes widened as fire suddenly pooled around the villain ¨C a massive bonfire centered in the middle of the street ¨C and with a roar that sent a chill running through every single part of her, Lung threw his hands out to release pure hell. It was so sudden that Victoria didn''t even have time to get out of the way, her own momentum sending her on a direct path towards the onrushing hellstorm. Her mind frozen by the sudden shock, instinct drove her to raise her arms over her face as she shut her eyes, not even given a moment to scream. "Yamete!"* A voice ¨C boyish, lively and undoubtedly loud ¨C made itself heard for a single moment as a painfully bright burst of golden light seared Glory Girl''s closed eyelids, the sudden interjection followed by the even louder sound of air rushing out in the most forceful manner possible; like that of a wind turbine combined with that of a tank''s main gun. Immediately after, the oppressive heat abated, and there was a sudden silence. Before Glory Girl could open her eyes fully, she felt herself move. Her voice almost froze in her throat again, from surprise again this time as she went spinning through the air, her body caught up in some sort of miniature windstorm that sent her flying back several meters until she caught herself in mid-air. Cape and hair falling out of her face again, tiara having gone missing long ago, Victoria Dallon found her eyes widening as she stared at the figure several meters away from her, unsure of whether or not she had contracted a very sudden case of traumatic brain injury. A blond, teenage boy stood facing her atop of a burnt-out minivan, arms folded across his chest and feet spread out wide as they somehow found purchase on the dilapidated surface of the vehicle itself. Other than his shirt, which was a vibrant blue, he seemed to wear white all over; a bright, white leather jacket with dragon patterns etched in gold up and down the side, a matching pair of jeans, a white pair of blue-tinted sunglasses with diamonds inlaid into the frame, and bright white sneakers. A gold chain hung from his neck, corresponding with the multiple rings on his fingers and the blue-gold watch glistening on his wrist. His tousled blond hair a much more buttery yellow to her bright golden blonde, the teen tossed his head back and nodded at her. All in all, he was certainly¡­ a sight. One that Glory Girl wasn''t sure she wanted to see right now. "Omatase shimashita (1)." He bowed his head slightly as he said those words, her limited knowledge of the language informing her that he had just said something in Japanese. ¡­ Again, a sight she wasn''t sure she wanted to see right now. Behind him, Lung could be seen further down the street, pulling himself from the ruins of a brick wall, rubble falling all around him as the scaled villain finally found himself on his feet again. The boy in white turned his back to Glory Girl as the noise reached him and continued to stare with his arms folded at Lung''s now-roaring form. Arms coming free, he pointed his left at Lung, voice clear and rather loud as he made another statement, the meaning still imperceptible to Glory Girl. "Ore no deban da ze! Omae no aite wa ore da (2)!" The villain on the other end of the conversation appeared nearly as confused as Victoria felt at the moment, the majority of the man''s menace melting away as he suddenly seemed to join Glory Girl and anyone else witnessing this craziness in the simple act of wondering who the hell this idiot thought he was. A single moment passed in relative silence and the teen paused, throwing his head back in laughter and adding to everyone''s general sense of confusion just that much more. "How foolish of me," he began in English this time, voice overly pompous and affecting a terrible Shakespearean tone for no real reason. "Let me introduce myself in a more proper manner!" The blond shifted his hands again, tightening one into a fist and drawing it down low, tucking it at his waist as he flattened the fingers of his other hand and slashed across his chest at an upwards angle, voice jumping in volume as he struck the odd pose. "Henshin!" With that last word, he was suddenly lit from all sides by a bright blue glow as immense winds suddenly began to kick up and his entire body suddenly surrounded by floating particles of light bearing a similar hue. The glow brightened to obscure his face and entire body, the wind blowing around him shifting from a quick breeze to a sudden gale in moments. The blue particles and the wind seemed to dance around him, spinning around the posing blond in a rapid tornado and suddenly¡­ White-and-blue armor stood out vibrantly against the soot, ash, and grime that coated the surroundings as the cape stepped forward, shifting his stance slightly as the car roof squealed under him. "Hear ye, villain!" A beautiful sword materialized in his outstretched hand, pointing directly at Lung, the edges of the blade seeming to shine with some sort of subtle golden light. "To attack a maiden most fair ''tis an act most wicked and craven!" His free hand met the other around the hilt of the slightly-glowing blade, sword still held high as if to bring it down upon the dragon from such a distance. He lifted his gaze, slight golden light seeming to flare out from behind the eye slits of the cape''s horned helm and his blue mantle billowed heroically in the unnatural wind. "Now tremble, wretch, for The White Knight ''Prodigy'' has arrived, to bring down upon thee heavens'' most divine justice!" That was the moment Lung chose to explode. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
STR + 14 SPD + 17 VIT + 5 INT + 4
(Perk) Danger Sense + 2
Equipped: Fate/Prototype Armor ¨C Saber v2 (Home¨CMade) Made with a slightly more practiced hand, more lightweight materials and a thoughtful balance regarding form and function, this redesigned armor is lighter, easier to move in, and less cumbersome than before while looking even more impressive. A direct improvement upon the original costume, it still bears a regal appearance suited to a hero. + 10% Damage Reduction + 5 to all [Swordplay] abilities + 5 to STR + 5 to SPD + 5 to VIT + 15 to CHA Gram (Bastard Sword) ¨C Lv Max Forged by the flames of a dragon''s breath, molded in battle against a scaled demon, and cooled in the blood of the same dragon, this sword represents the ideal of a true dragon-slaying knight. +50% [Slashing] Damage +50% [Piercing] Damage +250% Damage to all [Dragons] +25 to [Parry Ability] +25% [Bleed-out] length +25 STR
Title Change: Ninja-In-Training ¡ú Dragon-Blooded Knight Dragon-Blooded Knight [ACTIVE] My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. + 10% additional Damage Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 10 to VIT + 5 to STR + 100 to Health + 50% Damage against [Dragon]s.
Quest Gained! A Knight''s Duty II: Dragonfall Details: Cutting the head of the snake in a more literal fashion. Defeat the leader of the ABB in front of witnesses, declaring the symbolic end of the ABB for all to see. Success: + 25 Stat Points, + 10 Perk Points, 200000 XP, + 5 STR, + 5 SPD, + 20 VIT, $50000,[???], [???], [???], [???] Failure Objective: Lose to Lung/Die/Flee Bonus: Deflect Lung''s flames at least five times. Bonus:???
Mob 5.14 Mob 5.14 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C He did it. Or well, he had done it. It, being the dynamic entry he had always dreamed of. Even better, he had pulled off said entry with style, flair, and three, simultaneous manifestations of his aerokinesis. Three! A blast of wind, stronger than any he had ever pulled off before, to send Lung flying back. A controlled wind spout to gently carry Glory Girl out of harm''s way. And, finally, a third plume of air to ease his landing just enough that he didn''t crumple the roof of the car he chose as a landing spot.
Adept Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 4¡ú5
If that wasn''t impressive enough, he had managed several sentences in Japanese, no less, before pulling off a full magical knight transformation in front of superheroes, a supervillain, and every single person watching on the L33tNation Live Stream. #L33tSubSquad
Language Japanese Lvl Up! 8¡ú9
He had pulled air into his lungs with another inspired use of his powers, pushing the sound of his voice out on the airwaves to give it a depth and richness that made him sound so heroic and regal. And then, to put the final cherry on top of the moment of awesome, he opened his mouth again and responded to Lung''s open challenge in the only way he knew how, "...upon thee, Heaven''s most divine justice!" For a moment, there was silence. No one said a word, the sounds of flickering flames seeming to quiet for just that very second as Greg stood there with his sword pointed out. For the span of a single breath, Greg Veder found himself alone with his thoughts long enough for him to have the piercing moment of clarity he really should have had several minutes ago when he came up with the idea to taunt Lung into insanity.
Taunt Lvl Up! 10¡ú11
Blue eyes widened with some measure of fear, then narrowed with renewed certainty as Greg gripped his weapon even tighter. Oh. His heart skipped a beat. Shit. An instant later, the world wrenched itself back to life, Greg''s surrounding bursting with vibrant color and deafening sound as Lung reared up on two legs, split all four parts of his X-shaped mouth wide open and threw his arms back, the air suddenly seeming to tremble an instant before the noise hit him. If the very concept of rage could be given an audible means of expression, there was no doubt in the mind of one Gregory Lucas Veder that it could only sound exactly like what was in front of him at this very moment as Lung''s fury coincided with the fiery explosion that continually burst from the villain as he made his anger known. "Is that even a sound?" Lung didn''t bother to answer Greg''s query, the scale-covered villain still roaring at the top of his lungs as if fighting to be heard over the force of his own flames. One could almost be thankful that both Lung and his pyrokinetic tantrum seemed to be in a competition for who could shatter more eardrums because it saved Greg and everyone else from having to hear the disgusting noises that came from Lung''s suddenly violent and explosive growth. The villain had shot up an entire foot in the span of five seconds as Greg''s sudden entrance fanned the flames of Lung''s escalating threat in the worst way possible. Silvery scales spread across the dragon''s skin like a rash, thickening and bulging in places as vast expanses of muscle and flesh beneath it struggled to keep up. Beneath all that, massive bones surged into new positions as well, Lung''s body eager to expand and improve so that the villain in question could do what he needed. Another second and Lung dropped to all fours, endless roar still going strong. One clawed foot pawed the asphalt, raking furrows into half-melted tar and sending the boiling, semi-solid pitch splattering against the remnants of a brick wall. Glowing depths formed the dragon''s hateful eyes, burning orange like molten iron. Those malevolent pits stared down Greg with the unfathomable rage that could only belong to a human being, albeit one in the shape of a beast. Greg smiled back, the sound of his heart pounding in his ears a familiar and comforting tone as he let the golden warmth that was his Willpower spread out and over him, Gram gaining an even stronger glow as he layered it over the weapon as well. Right hand adjusting itself on the hilt, he steeled his expression somewhat, drawing in his smile as he prepared to meet Lung''s charge. Unnecessarily Dramatic Encounter numero dos, here we go.
Ability Gained Language: Spanish Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language.
He blinked at the pop-up, confusion and realization appearing on his face almost at the same time. Oh¡­ Oh, yeah. I forgot that wasn''t there. He blinked again, body relaxing slightly as he puzzled over the new arrival. Wait a sec, why is it here n- A throbbing at the base of his skull drew his attention, Greg''s eyes widening as his arms seemed to move on their own, the blond suddenly swinging Gram with as much force as he could muster. His sword slashed out in front of him, the blade meeting the thrown object with what felt like an endless screech of metal as he fought to keep himself still and his arms from flying back against the force he found himself against. Despite how long it felt, said screech lasted for only an instant as a pulse of wind burst from the tip of his blade, sending what was now two halves of a charred pick-up flying apart from Greg. The young cape stared wide-eyed at Lung''s now-charging form, an annoyance rising in his chest in the form of raw heat as he responded in kind at the draconic villain. "DID YOU JUST THROW A TRUCK AT ME!" It wasn''t a question. It really wasn''t. It especially wasn''t when you consider that instead of punctuating the statement with an uptick in pitch, Greg did so with a punch as he leapt forward. An oddly translucent glow surrounded his arm as he did so, the light show disappearing as he thrust forward the limb in question. A mass of pressurized air shot out, encompassing more space than Greg himself. The force of the pressure wave compressed in moments and slammed into another vehicle ¨C albeit a much smaller one ¨C and sent it flying powerfully back at Lung, a hail of debris carried along in its wake.
Adept Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 5¡ú6
In response, Lung simply snatched the car out of thin air with a twist in his charge, tore the vehicle in two, and whirled, flinging the car''s front at Greg. Greg yelped as he dove forward, ducking into a roll to dodge under the flying hunk of metal before skidding short and leaping back to avoid the crash of the rear-half that followed. "Watch it!" A startled, indignant cry from behind him and the smashing sound of a closely dodged car-half hitting the ground reminded Greg that he wasn''t the only one to worry about on this battlefield. He swung around to catch sight of Glory Girl suddenly take to the skies, a terrified expression on her face. Whoops! The sound of a one-man stampede caught his attention an instant later, Greg swinging his gaze back around to see Lung still bearing down on him, the villain now full-out charging with an inferno cloaking his silver-scaled form. To his credit, though, Greg somehow managed not to say anymore words as he darted away from Lung and leapt atop a roof to put some distance between the two of them, embarrassing or otherwise. He did scream a few, though. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The battlefield was Coventree Plaza: a large city commons Greg faintly recognized, built on the edge of the city and home to a great many businesses either on the edge of failure or already past it. Nestled in between the relatively bustling areas that were Downtown and the Commercial District, one would have thought it''d have been more thriving. One would be wrong. Despite all that, it didn''t really matter what shape the area had been in before today because Lung was doing his very best to make sure it was utterly unusable after he was done here. Flames spewed from his open mouth and outstretched palms, tracing after Greg''s form as he flitted from rooftop to rooftop around Lung himself. He moved like a bird on the wing, swooping through the air fast enough that he''d be barely a white blur to most, but held back to avoid the chance of Lung getting used to what he could really do. Still, the young cape knew he couldn''t keep this up forever. Not because he didn''t have the stamina nor the speed to manage it but, well¡­ Seriously, what is this guy''s plan? he thought to himself, teeth grit in an open grimace that might have been considered a smile in different circumstances. I know he''s mad as hell right now, so why isn''t he chasing me? Greg spun in mid-air, strong legs carrying him over a ledge and half again another rooftop, before he quickly landed on the squat, gravel-covered surface of an empty store, feet kicking off the ground again in another moment as heat and death threatened to close in on him if he dared stumble or slow down any more than he already had. His bright blue cape flapped behind him, nearly completely horizontal for the few moments Greg was able to run straight ahead. Granted, he couldn''t help but feel somewhat elated on some level that he actually had a cape. Neither his excitement at that nor the heat ¨C haha! ¨C of the moment managed to dull his confusion at Lung''s antics. Greg was well aware of how the dragon-man liked to fight. If personal experience hadn''t let him know that Lung ¡ª apart from a few blasts and streams of fire to force opponents out into the open ¡ª rarely used pyrokinesis for much more than coating himself in an aura of flame, years of online cape discussion, debate and encyclopedia referencing would have. Above anything else, Lung was rather uninventive for a cape, relying on his own brute force to handle what he could far more easily accomplish with an extended barrage of fire. That much was simple enough to understand; Lung liked to handle fights with his physicality above all else, and liked to get in close even when it was to his detriment. Yet, his actions now seemed to be going directly against that. I don''t get this. He glanced over his shoulder as he leapt over another gap between buildings, eyes tracking Lung as the man-beast surged after him on the ground below, gaze turned in Greg''s direction even as he ran forward. Despite his eyes firmly locked in Greg''s direction as he darted from building to building around in the plaza, Lung made no attempt to rush after him directly, seemingly content to continue this winding chase around the perimeter with his own powerful strides. Makes no sense. It''s like he- The thought was torn from Greg''s head as his Danger Sense pulsed a warning, the cape reacting to the sudden stimulus by bursting off the rooftop long before he could reach the ledge. The plume of flames from Lung''s maw had suddenly become a jet of fire. What was once comparable to a flamethrower was now acting more like an acetylene torch on steroids. The heat shifted from sweltering to unbearable as a slight grunt forced itself from Greg''s clenched jaw. Arms pinwheeling as Greg lurched forward in the air, his unprepared leap cost him both speed and height. A powerful gale buffeted him from behind to give him just the extra bit of distance he needed as he began to arc downwards but even then, the landing was harsher than he would have liked. Greg slammed onto the gravel-covered rooftop, body shifting into an immediate roll as he scattered across the rough surface like a stone skipping over still-waters before leaping back onto his feet as another pulse rang out in the back of his mind. He surged forward before fiery death could land atop him, pulling on the well of warmth inside him as he continued leaping from rooftop to rooftop, Lung''s flames chasing after him as they fed on the fuel Greg left behind. The fuel being entire buildings. The blond nearly froze in place as realization struck him, hands clenching at his sides as the thought forced itself into the forefront of his mind, but he forced himself forward even still. It''s like he''s not even focused on me, he thought to himself, eyes darting around as he bounded from building to building. If not me, then¡­ He blinked. No. Greg''s eyes widened in dawning realization as he swiveled his head from side to side, gaze tracking the battlefield as he kept one eye firmly on the villain still managing to keep pace with him on the ground below. The fires¡­ Lung wasn''t setting them at random, Greg realized with a slow sense of worry, or simply chasing after him with it. If he wanted them to hit me or trap me in, he''d have boxed me in already, he concluded, suddenly anxious as to what else he could have missed. No, he thought again, shaking his head as he came to mind. He doesn''t care about boxing me in. I came to him. He wouldn''t need to box me in. But¡­
WIS + 1
The notification was a confirmation Greg didn''t need as he glanced back over his shoulder, sharp eyes spotting the massive walls of fire left behind by Lung as they traced the edges of the promenade leaving almost the entire perimeter cut off from the outside. You slippery lizard... Either the Protectorate would be too busy trying to contain the flames from consuming entire blocks or they''d be unable to cross the flames. Flames and burning debris from buildings that were already dangerous unstable from the fight Lung had been having with the Protectorate and New Wave for hours, hot enough to boil blood if any of them tried to force their way through the barrier of flames. Either way, it meant that Lung was getting what he wanted and Greg was going to give him the rest. "Alright, you want me!?" The murmur rose to his lips as he darted back to stare at Lung, the dragon still charging linearly around the long end of the rectangular plaza to keep up with Greg''s pace. "Let''s go, then!" With a grunt, Greg forced himself off the rooftop as bent knees uncoiled like tensed and readied springs. A wave of displaced air followed behind him as he leapt above the massive flare Lung launched his way, jet spurting out in repeated bursts, his body shooting forward towards the villain. He twisted his body in mid-air, shifting and angling in the span of a few seconds until he was upright, both hands tightening around the hilt of his weapon. "Have at thee, craven!" He swung his sword once. A crescent of wind shot from the downwards swing, the formation glowing with that same translucence from before and a solidity that seemed to match those of Lung''s flames. A torso-sized claw swiped the air and fire exploded in front of Lung, the wind blade dissipating to nothing in the face of greater elemental force. More followed it as Greg dropped down to ground level, each one meeting another angry swipe of flame from a Lung that was already far too angry to deal with such minor annoyances. Greg touched down on a patch of unburnt grass, one of the rare few around, the spectral winds of his aerokinesis flaring to pad his hard landing. Barely even paying attention to that, the blond didn''t let his gaze drop for an instant, eyes locked firmly on Lung as the two circled each other. "OUGHHH¡­" He fought the urge to blink in confusion at Lung''s sudden outstretched growl, the younger cape nearly easing his readied position as he continued his cautious prowl just outside of Lung''s easy reach. One hand reaffirming its position on the hilt of his blade, Greg kept the other free simply out of caution and tilted his head towards Lung. Don''t let him trick you, alright? Just¡­ just stay focused and strike hard. "KEEEL¡­ OUGHHH¡­" The dragon-man''s declaration of murderous intent came with little streamers of flame, each one escaping his horror-movie maw in angry pressurized spurts. Angry as Lung might have been, Greg couldn''t resist smiling at the words, the glow of the blade in his right hand brightening along with the expression on his face. "Before we start, how about some ground rules?" The corona around Lung flared ever so slightly, hands curling further at his sides as his massive body shifted on the already-bubbling asphalt beneath his clawed, digitigrade legs. His mouth opened again, exposing the glow of his insides as larger spurts of flame escaped him in the form of a breath. -2 -2 -1 -1 -3 -1 -1 -2 -1 Amid the crackle of flames and the oppressive, oven-like heat heat that slowly ¨C ever so slowly ¨C chipped away at his health with continuing scarlet pop-ups displaying minuscule numbers, the fifteen-year old found it in him to laugh, the sound coming out slightly more confident than he himself felt, his laughter sounding out clear as a bell despite the ruination about them. "No biting, no scratching, no rabbit punches, donkey punches, dragon punches, and last but not least, let''s try to keep the heat around a moderate 70¨H. I mean, my hair doesn''t frizz but I don''t wanna risk it. Fair?"
Taunt Lvl Up! 11¡ú12
Wrong thing to say, it seemed. Lung exploded forward, corona literally bursting outwards as he launched himself bodily at the smaller figure across from him. Nearly thirteen feet and God-only-knows-how-many pounds of dragon-man bore down on Greg but he reacted instantly, the younger cape having received a warning just a moment before his opponent even moved. The world seemed to slow as he drew on his [Reinforcement], the energy spiking in intensity for an instant as he leapt several meters to the right of Lung''s charge. As the silver-scaled titan passed him by, bulky form nearly a blur as Greg twisted of his own volition to face the villain''s back, he swung his sword again. Wind shot from the edge of his sword in another crescent, speeding towards Lung''s exposed back as fast as the thing could manage. It hit home as Greg''s feet fully met the ground again, the air-blade tearing through Lung''s fiery armor to bite deep into his scales and even past those. The sounds from the villain were equal parts fury and agony as Lung met the ground on all fours, but it didn''t last for along as the red flesh visible underneath exposed scales rapidly bubbled and sealed itself up, visible steam escaping from where the wound previously was as a new line of silver appeared atop it. Roaring again, Lung spun in place, lengthy tail behind him smashing apart any debris or shattered bench that dared impede him. By the time he made a full revolution, so much bulk moving far faster and more fluidly than it had any right to, Greg was already upon him and it was all Lung could do but roar and thrash as the golden blade bit into the side of his maw. It struck with force, his massive head wrenched to the left as the thing swung into his face and left with a chunk of flesh gone. The blade pulsed with a blistering light as it met his scales and the red flesh beneath it, hurting far more than such a small weapon should. A scream drove itself into Lung''s ears as the burning pain returned even as he swung a hefty arm at the source of the pain. Despite repeated attempts, each one angrier than the last, Lung couldn''t quite strike the annoying fly that was his target.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 26¡ú27
Shifting directions in mid-air, Greg danced atop a set of constantly disappearing platforms as he darted around Lung''s explosive form, barely avoiding lancing bursts of flame and angry, wild swings from the frighteningly fast villain.
Mana Platform Lvl Up! 3¡ú4
With another hard swing, Gram met scale and sought deeper again, a spurt of blood arcing from the side of the villain''s long neck as the blade carved its way through nearly a meter of poorly guarded flesh. An eager smile burst across Greg''s face and his mouth opened wide as the grin he wore gave way to a teasing laugh, mocking words following immediately after. "How weaketh art thou? Methought thou were a dragon, n-" Greg''s eyes widened as he instinctively leapt into the air, body reacting to the sudden pulse at the base of his neck almost before his mind could catch up. CRACK!
Reflexes Lvl Up! 16¡ú17
He twisted in midair, flipping further backwards and away as a set of platforms formed under his hands, the remainder of what he was going to say immediately forgotten in the wake of a sudden pulse of warning and a burst of sound that shook his eardrums. A good sixty feet above the ground, Greg spun himself around to glance back at his opponent, Lung''s head darting around in search of him as the full length of his tail darted back to pool at his back in a manner much like an undulating snake.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 27¡ú28
He can¡­ He can control that thing? He couldn''t help but ask himself the question despite knowing very well that what they were, blue eyes staring at Lung''s clearly prehensile tail, the silver-scaled and spiked appendage ready to whip out again. So¡­ he began, standing perfectly still on the underside of a platform made of nigh-invisible mana several meters in the air as Lung roared impotently on the street below. Lung''s tail can break the speed of sound. Greg let out a low breath of air, not even able to be surprised at this new development. Good to know. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, only to flinch as Lung froze below, entire body stilling as Greg''s eyes slowly widened. Don''t tell me¡­ Lung''s head twisted atop his serpentine neck, almost rotating an entire one-hundred and eighty degrees as his eyes locked onto the target of all his ire. The villain roared again, the sound mixed in with what could have been a curse as his mouth opened out to reveal his patent four-parted snarl and a mouth full of teeth that promised death by one means or another as steam and fire escaped him in persistent spurts. Fuck. A tower of flame rushed up to meet him, a jet composed as much of Lung''s rage as it was bright yellow fire, searing the sky and warning the entire city of the dragon''s location. It didn''t even come close to touching Greg, though. -3 -2 -1 -2 -3 -1 -4 -2 -1 Motherfucker! Well, it didn''t even come close to touching Greg''s body, that much was certain as the annoyed teen hit the ground with half his cape missing, the other half shriveling upwards as embers made their way over the rest of the garment."You burned my cape!" The sound from him was its own roar, annoyance mixing in with an actual boiling fury that Greg was doing his best to keep firmly tamped down, lest it harm his focus. He surged forward with a renewed strength in his muscles, body alight with his trademark golden glow as he darted forward to meet Lung again. The villain charged forward himself, a single forelimb slamming into the partially melted asphalt hard enough to cause a lava-like eruption of fire and tar beneath his feet. Another limb met Greg''s weapon, an arm coated with bright yellow fire and steadily-thickening layers of scale exploding against glowing steel as the smaller cape roared again. "[Weapon Charge!]" The glow shifted from golden to a visibly distinct cobalt as Gram bit into Lung''s wrist, the layers of scale giving way as Lung roared in pain once more. Before the dragon-man could withdraw his limb, Greg forced the energy in him to rise, slashing yet again with his weapon as he dodged another angry swing from Lung''s other arm, a burst of flame exploding outwards from where it came down. Rather than jump right into his awaiting face, Greg quickly darted to his right, bleeding off a good deal of his momentum as he burst backwards off another platform. His other hand curled its fingers to form a swirling sphere of aerokinetic wind, densely packed air-blades swirling within the pressurized confines of the sphere in his hand. With a grunt, Greg flung it with a sweep out towards Lung and the manifestation of razor-wind shot out, a burst of air forcing Lung to take a step back as the sphere exploded like a grenade against his face. Scales scattered free with clinking noises as they hit the ground, a good chunk of Lung''s exposed reddish flesh bearing scars and open wounds from the razor-like cutting winds Greg had forced into the ball.
Mana Platform Lvl Up! 4¡ú5 Adept Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 6¡ú7
Stormtiger''s special move¡­ Greg took a moment to pull a face, feeling a level of distaste for copying anything the fight-hungry Neo-Nazi had done. Great, now I feel dirty. Another roar from Lung was silenced prematurely before bursting back to life angrier than before, the villain''s temper stoked to higher peaks as Gram drove itself deep into his chest, forming a bright red and steaming ''X'' on the villain''s chest. "Come on!" Gram slashed out again, scoring another slash into Lung''s open chest. Blood came pouring out in rivulets, steaming as it hit the ground and not for the first time, Greg found himself wondering how it even did that. Considering blood hot enough to steam would have thickened by now, he rapidly mused, sending another river of blood flowing with a hard swing into Lung''s neck, maybe Lung''s blood is just different from normal blood? Fish have antifreeze blood, right? Maybe dragons just have anti-boil? Before he could further deliberate on what was a potentially award-winning thesis on the cardiovascular system of the Eastern-originating, North-American subspecies of dragon known as Lung, another strike came for him, this one backed by potentially endless amounts of fire curled within a single palm but Greg met it with another swipe from his blade, flames petering out as steel flitted through Lung''s thick arm with a sickening squelch of flesh.
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 26¡ú27
The bellow from Lung was enough to shatter eardrums, the dragon''s wrist falling apart from the bone as he erupted like a living blast furnace. A mammoth-sized foot slammed down on a small mountain of debris, hard enough to form a small crater and crack the ground for meters around. Yet, it didn''t deter Greg from darting in again and driving Gram deep into Lung''s chest with a loud "[Dash Straight!]", sword held out in front of him like a jousting knight. Lung reared back from the blow, the blade coming free with that movement, and lunged forward again to roar at Greg only for the teen to flip off another set of glowing platforms, an armored foot driving itself into the side of Lung''s face as he screamed a single syllable as loud as he could. "[Burst!]" Red light overtook gold and Greg felt a stabbing pain travel through his leg for an instant as he made contact. An instant later, Lung''s face was knocked aside as a collection of raw force and a mass of air at the ball of Greg''s foot did their combined duty. Ignoring the already fading pain in his metatarsals, the young cape forced himself into a mid-air spin and swung his sword again. Gram came down on the intersection between Lung''s shoulder and his sinuous neck with the grace of a butcher''s knife and all the momentum of Greg''s body behind it, as the blond found himself screaming two words for the second time in half as many minutes. "[Weapon Charge!]"
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 27¡ú28 Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 23¡ú24 Weapon Charge Lvl Up! 17¡ú18 Adept Aerokinesis Lvl Up! 7¡ú9
Even amid the heat and Lung''s corona threatening to roast him alive, the young cape managed to weather the entire thing as best he could with an aura of his own; wind spinning around him like a tornado in miniature, coating limbs and torso to protect him from the worst of Lung''s heat. Even still, it wasn''t enough as Lung only seemed to burn hotter as the fight continued past it''s first few minutes. While he had expected it, of course, it was very disheartening for him to note that Lung was slowly growing as things went on; his neck a great deal thicker and longer than it had been at the start, for one, and each area his sword met growing larger and bearing a thicker layer of scales as they healed over. To make matters worse, the battlefield was not to his advantage. There was only so far Greg could go before being surrounded by more fire and Lung was in no way limited in his movement or range by anything at all. He ducked another swipe from Lung, dropping from his platforms above to drag the edge of his sword down the villain''s exposed chest. Just seconds later, he could barely even see the deep gashes he had carved into Lung''s flesh, scales already forming over the healing wounds. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. This isn''t gonna work, the blond noted in the middle of diverting a slash from Lung with the flat of his blade. The screech of claws along the supernatural metal rang out, and flames sprung from Lung''s arm like a wave crashing onto a rocky beach, bathing Greg in the dragon''s now bright-yellow fire and scorching him with infernal heat. His armor felt molten, almost softening from the heat were it not for Greg''s [Layer Reinforcement] trying to keep it strong. A single moment later, he found himself barely suppressing the urge to scream at the top of his dried-out lungs as he barely avoided another supersonic lash of Lung''s tail with a quick flip backwards. He''s healing too fast. He''s getting bigger and his flames¡­ -72 -44 -15 -18 -10 -9 -6 -3 -5 -2 -1 -3 -2 -3 -5
Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 47¡ú48 Parry Lvl Up! 11¡ú13
Another pressure wave launched itself at Lung in the form of a punch from Greg, the dragon-man barely edging back as it met him. Instead, he roared back a bright yellow stream of fire that threatened everything in its path. Even if he can''t hit me, I''m getting baked alive like a Thanksgiving turkey because he keeps getting hotter! He retaliated at Lung with an angry slash, annoyance and so much restrained fury fighting its way to the forefront again and making him lose focus. "Just die already!" Lung struck just then and his massive limb was met with the flat side of Gram for a second time but unlike the first, it struck like a cannonball launched at the speed of sound. But the attack angle was too clever, and Greg couldn''t turn it aside as Lung''s massive fist burst through his guard and smashed into the younger cape''s breastplate with the force of a tank missile. -410 [Critical Hit]
Debuff: Cracked Ribs (3) ¨C 2 Hours
Resistance: Blunt Force Lvl Up! 66¡ú68
The young cape nearly lost his footing, skidding back as he found himself taking the brunt of a super-strong strike with not even a full second to prepare himself. Nearly doubling over from the sudden force, Greg forced his will to his lower body and activated [Surface Adhesion] on the soles of his feet in the hope it would be enough to keep him standing. Luckily, he was right. Instead of getting knocked head over heels, the blond was forced into a backwards slide, the soles of his feet tearing backwards over asphalt and debris in direct defiance of the laws of physics and friction. Okay, he began as he finally stopped several tens of meters away, chest heaving from both exertion and the constant heat as he brought Gram out in front of him, you lost about 20% of your health. In one hit. No worries. You got this. Just¡­ new plan, he quickly decided, wincing at the ache that was his ribs, Stop fighting him. Make him fight me. "Is that all you got? Huh?" Greg''s words came out raspy as his chest heaved from lack of air and a great deal of pain, mouth dry as Lung''s flames did their best to dry up whatever moisture remained in the air. The less said about how his lungs felt like dried jerky, the better. Holding his breath certainly didn''t help much, that was for sure. "Is that all the big, bad dragon-man''s got? I thought you were supposed to scare me!"
Breath-Holding Lvl Up! 14¡ú15
"Come on, Lung! Where''s the effort?" He let out a shout at the top of his lungs, directly calling out the Draconic Boss himself with aerokinesis to assist his raspy voice. Even with his voice as loud as it was, Greg could barely hear himself what with Lung''s roaring, exploding and general stomping around being enough to drown out lesser noises. Mind-numbing pain and a roar of blind rage met Greg''s taunt as Lung pounced again, his landing a thunderous crash as he brought his forelimbs down on the spot where the other cape had been. It was truly insane how huge he was now, over four meters in height and counting with no end in sight. Greg found himself shuddering as he recalled the rumors he had read online of Lung''s potential, his own theories a large part of them, and shuddered yet again as he recalled that his own powers had confirmed the other rumors about Lung stalemating Leviathan the last time Greg had fought the hellbeast in front of him. That did not make him feel better in the slightest. I gotta end this quick and in a big way. Hit him hard once, faster than he can heal from. Having crossed over a dozen meters in the same time it took Lung to locate him, Greg faced the draconic villain with his arms wide open, sword held high in his right as a formation of wind circled around his left. "Hit me with your best shot!" The grin behind his helmet was openly manic now, white teeth giving off the appearance of sharp fangs as Greg''s mouth stretched open even wider as his laughter increased as rapidly as his volume. "Fire away!"
Taunt Lvl Up! 12¡ú13
He did. Lung charged forward, sending forth a meteor of roiling blue flame as Greg rushed forward to meet his opponent, free hand out in front of him with his fingers clawed as a similar-sized burst of wind left his palm. An instant later, fire met wind in a powerful conflagration as the roofs of the three nearest buildings were blown off entirely, masonry, wood and stone sent flying as every remaining window in the vicinity shattered completely, glass shards sent flying from the sudden pressure wave that erupted within Coventree Plaza. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Spoiler: STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
??Age: 15 (and three-quarters!) Job: Student
??Title: Dragon-Blooded Knight
Level 23 Experience 18500/38000
Health 1045/1757 (+100)
Mana 435/515 (+25)
Willpower 509/622 (+22)
STR 80 (+5) (+5) (+25) SPD 80 (+5)
VIT 105 (+15) INT 55
WIS 20 (-70%) CHA 27 (+9) (-90%) [+15]
Stat Points: 0 Perk Points: 0
Cash: $505,700.82
TRAITS Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon-Blooded: Fire and fury flows through your veins, blood of the dragon. The mythical hero Siegfried was baptized in the blood of a magical dragon and became nigh-invulnerable, immune to nearly all forms of damage. You, on the other hand, were splattered in the blood of a not-so-magical dragon. (+ 250 HP, + 10 STR, + 10 SPD) Dragon-Souled: For some, baptism by fire tends to be symbolic. Not for you, though. Facing the heat of Lung''s flames head-on has purified the strength of your will and the power of your soul. The beginnings of draconic power grow throughout your being. (+250 MP, +250 Will, +10 INT, +10 VIT) Peak Human: What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
PERKS Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (4/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Iron Body "I am not built as weakly as you are." Forget about being tougher than most people. Now, you''re just plain superhuman. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) [Ranked Ability] You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/per 2 seconds)
TITLES Dragon-Blooded Knight [ACTIVE] My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. Title grants +10% overall Damage Resistance in addition to all regular resistances one has with an additional 10% resistance to fire, +10 to VIT, + 5 to STR, + 100 to Health and +50% Damage against any creature bearing the form of [Dragon]. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Ninja-In-Training [ACTIVE] It''s my ninja way!!! Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 25% and + 2 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 9 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Dash Straight Lv 12 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 4 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 16 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 24 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (170%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second.
  • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (775%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Mana Barrier Lv 1 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. [Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity.] Cost: 50 Mana Pyrokinesis (Basic) Lv 13 Burn, baby, burn! Generate and control flames up to a range of 9 meters. Increases in range by 1 meter every other level. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 18 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (9 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 28 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 17 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (34%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 15 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 6 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (12%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 8 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (8%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 13 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (26%) Reflexes Lv 17 DODGE! Decreases innate reaction time by 5% per level. (85%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 68 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (51%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 48 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (48%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 37 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (27.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 28 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (56%) Taunt Lv 13 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (26%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Mob 5.15 Mob 5.15 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C This was a baaaad idea. -149 -53
Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! 9 ¡ú 10 Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 48 ¡ú 49
Greg Veder had that thought rush through his mind for the single instant before the wind sphere he had instinctively formed to shield himself buckled, protecting him from the immediate overpressure wave only to shatter like an egg in the wake of everything that followed. For a heartbeat, he hung there, vulnerable as explosions and chaos dominated everything he knew. The knightly cape didn''t even have time to blink before the frenzied pressure wave struck him hard ¡ª a crushing swell of heat, sound and force. Greg''s eyes widened as his already-battered torso was jarred by the invisible blow, the scream torn from his lungs. For what felt like far too long, the world around him was a tempest of fire. Even with his hearing muted from the roar of burning all about him, every rippling emanation of heat and energy in the firestorm seemed to rattle his entire body on a level past the physical, roaring flames and screaming wind as he processed it through the senses that both his Aerokinesis and Pyrokinesis provided him. It was a new type of pain: one that was entirely unwelcome. Thankfully, the experience rendered him a bit too insensate to fully conceptualize how much he absolutely fucking hated it. Fully lacking in physical feeling for those first few moments of raw sensation, it took Greg Veder just as much time to realize that he was flying through the air, having been hurled backwards in the instant Lung''s blast of fire had met his overly-pressurized sphere of wind. The buildings closest to him collapsed and their windows erupted with ear-splitting force as the pressure wave demanded the glass and plastics to give way. It had picked him up with ease, throwing him into the onrushing wind as if Greg was nothing more than an errant leaf. The sword in his grip threatened to do the same, nearly tugged from his hand by the sudden force but Greg held it tight, his hand glowing blue as he drew upon another Skill to keep it in place. He toppled head over heels backwards; his uncontrolled flight shifted his gaze just in time to catch Lung in a similar predicament. Wild streams of fire ¨C each one several dozen feet at the smallest ¨C poured from his maw with every roar as the draconic villain was thrown back himself. It was almost enough to make Greg laugh. Almost. -71 Whatever humor was on his mind was quickly wrenched away as the young cape''s sudden flight came to a stop. Or, more accurately, a repeated series of stops. -38 -35 Greg couldn''t help but make that internal correction as his Reinforced back met the wall of some already-dilapidated building, the third one in almost half as many seconds. The blond had shot through the first of the crumbling walls hard enough, involuntarily twisting in the air until his torso slammed hard into a pillar that collapsed around him with a prolonged cracking noise that he hoped was just wood. The rest of his involuntary flight was more of the same. -85 (Critical Hit!) -31 -26
Debuff: Cracked Ribs (6) ¨C 4 Hours
Resistance: Blunt Force Lvl Up! 68 ¡ú 70
+ 1 VIT
It was only by sheer luck that his sword hadn''t ended up impaling him; Greg had managed to hold it firmly away from the rest of his body as he was launched backward and what little part of him could still focus thanked whatever entity that might be listening ¡ª real or imaginary ¡ª for that small mercy. He opened his eyes for a second time as he twisted in the air and regret the action immediately as he smashed through another wall head first, a face full of drywall his reward. The next two came at him much easier as his momentum nearly killed to the point that he barely felt the spikes of stabbing pain that were his ribs being repeatedly introduced to building material. -29 -22 -21 -16 -12 -13 -10 He finally hit the unforgiving ground, head spinning dizzily as his body rolled across the floor with a multitude of dusty boxes in his path. He didn''t even register the impacts as they slowed him down. It was a dazed and confused Greg Veder that grit his teeth as he forced himself into an near-expert roll, inherent agility and ingrained acrobatic skill guiding him through instinctive motions.
Acrobatics Lvl Up! 28 ¡ú 31
An extended hiss of pain that left the young man''s lips as he finally managed to halt his tumbling motion; knees, legs, arms and every other part of him launching some form of protest as he flipped himself upwards and back onto to his feet far more quickly than certain parts of him appreciated. Greg stumbled back, almost tripping as he tried to regain his balance. He stabbed Gram down into the stone floor of the dark stockroom he had found himself in, the golden blade sinking into stone with little resistance as its wielder gripped the sword''s hilt like a cane for support with suddenly shaky hands. Son of a¡ª A quiet grunt of pain tumbled from Greg''s open mouth, new sources of general ache and discomfort making themselves heard now that the teen had finally found his feet. His helmet felt several sizes too small on his skull as his head simultaneously pounded and rung like a bell in a church tower while his breastplate felt like a vise clamped tight around his chest. His eyes struggled to focus, brainpan still reeling from its many impacts against uncaring buildings, and bursts of light nearly as bright as Lung''s flames danced in his vision, doing their best to leave him at least half-blind. Letting go of his sword, Greg stumbled back again, free hand scrambling out to grip the edge of a half-toppled metal shelf that leaned back against a cracked back wall. With some measure of stability returned to him, it was all he could to blink away the spots in his eyes and focus on pulling himself together. For a single moment, he felt like the old him ¨C just Greg: awkward and ungainly,curled up in pain with bruises all over as he hid from someone bigger and stronger because he couldn''t ask someone for help¡­ not that they could if they wanted to, Greg acknowledged. There were very few capes with either the powers, physique and gear to handle this sort of situation; this all-oppressive heat that Lung was putting out as simply as breathing that grew hotter by the second. Armsmaster definitely wasn''t one of those capes. While his armor could survive Lung''s heat, Greg severely doubted his skin would last all that long before it began to slough off in thick chunks beneath his suit. Miss Militia was literally just a woman with any gun she wanted, Photon Mom''s force fields wouldn''t save her eyeballs from drying up in her skull and, as far as Greg knew, Glory Girl''s luscious head of beautiful, blonde hair was as flammable as any other. Truly, he was alone. He sighed. That morose moment lasted just that, before Greg Veder forced the image away as he shook his head, returning his focus to the part of him that called himself Prodigy. Greg blinked again, idly calling up his Inventory with a silent thought and waiting a moment for two already-peeled hard-boiled eggs to drop into his open palm followed by one thick piece of unwrapped jerky. Not the best but I''m out of PowerBars anyway. Note to self: Get a fuckin'' Costco card. Hard-Boiled Egg
Hard-Boiled Egg Not the most eggciting meal. Expires in 00:01:25:32
Big Daddy''s Jumbo Jerky Stick
Big Daddy''s Jumbo Jerky Stick Go ahead. Enjoy Big Daddy''s meat. Expires in 01:15:33:19
He shoved the first two into his mouth without a moment''s hesitation, nearly swallowing both in four rapid bites before quickly going to work on the third item. Okay¡­ okay. Plan. Need a plan. Let''s plan. First¡­ what do I know? What do I know about Lung? As his jaw worked on the jerky, he could feel the pain in both his head and chest subsiding somewhat as he let the food items work their proverbial ¨C or maybe literal ¨C magic on him. I know Lung heals. That should be a given as that was one of the most obvious aspects of the villain''s powerset. Lung had a healing factor. No¡­ not healing. Lung regenerates. A better distinction, Greg mused, noting that simple healing wouldn''t account for the type of recovery Lung was capable of; both in sheer speed and capability. Simple healing wouldn''t have restored the eye that Greg vividly remembered carving out with a wind slash a little over a week ago. Lung gets bigger the more he has to heal, maybe? It was a question, yes, because despite Lung being a local threat for roughly two-thirds as long as Greg had been alive, no one was really sure of the inciting factor behind his transformation. As far as anyone knew, even the PRT had no idea. And if they did, they certainly weren''t the type to broadcast that type of thing to anyone not under their authority. No, Greg shut his eyes, lips parting slightly to mouth the word. Capes that have fought him before barely did any real damage and he still got massive, so that can''t be it. The more I hurt Lung, the stronger he g-. The faint sound of roaring broke its way into his thoughts and once again, Greg fought the urge to wince as sweat dripped into his right eye. His hair was already damp to the point that "uncomfortable" couldn''t even describe it. It was made even worse with his head enclosed in the medieval-looking helmet Sparky had added to his costume, a piece that was probably scraped together from a costume store then reinforced with metal. Since when did Sparky know metalworking? The heat was seriously no joke, though, that much Greg could attest to; the fires raging through the front part of the store only adding to his struggle. He could feel the damage it was doing to him, albeit rather minor, and his costume only fared better than the rest of the purgatory that was once Coventree Plaza due to his [Layer Reinforcement] and that Perk of his keeping it in one piece. Even as Lung roared from the outside, Greg didn''t bother moving yet, simply closing his eyes as he pushed himself to focus again. Hurting Lung makes him stronger. But it''s not a perfect power. Otherwise he wouldn''t have run before. It was a common thread with Lung''s public appearances in Brockton Bay. While he had effectively bulldozed the entire Protectorate in his early showings when Greg was a child, there had been several instances through the years where he had been forced to retreat from a fight against several other capes, both villains and heroes, despite none of them being close to Lung''s level when it came to power, objectively speaking. Maybe¡­ Lung is older now so his power is weaker than it was ten years ago? He ventured the thought hopefully, expression lightening for a moment before almost immediately shooting it down as his smile inverted itself on his face. No. He ramps up. That wouldn''t exactly work. Hell, he''s ramping faster than he has in a long while. Growing a whole four feet in five minutes? His frown deepened at that thought, almost gritting his teeth as he gave the problem more thought. No, not weaker and definitely not slower. Okay¡­ He allowed himself to venture another possibility, willfully ignoring the sound of Lung''s tantrum even as the sound began to edge closer. So, maybe his power''s not perfect? So, he takes damage but he needs to be able to heal the damage quickly enough that he can get stronger from it. Greg''s eyes opened up suddenly as vaguely remembered battleboard arguments suddenly came to the forefront of his mind. Lung''s power ramps down outside of a fight. Which means that he needs to heal quick enough that he can still fight. But¡­ he heals so quick anyways. Any cut I give him is already healing by the time I land another one. And last time... He swallowed the last of the jerky, frustration easing as he found himself on the path of what some would term a solution. Last time¡­ last time I put everything I had into one hit. And he went down. But back then, I had Lady Bug handling DoT with her bugs and all that poison definitely kept Lung off his game with constant debuffs. His head tilted forward, bobbing slightly with an almost imperceptible nod. I gotta do the same so that even if the dragon gets stronger the longer he fights, the more he heals, the more he gets hurt... or all the above¡­ No matter what, he still can''t fight the same if he''s trying to handle those. Which means that fighting just to bring down Lung''s HP is the wrong move¡­ A smile burst to life behind his somewhat crumpled helmet, grimy face lighting up with relieved laughter as Greg found himself with the answer he needed. "I''ve gotta break him."
+ 1 WIS
A sound caught his ears as one gauntleted fist landed firmly in the palm of another, the distinct clink of metal on metal lost in the wake of another ground-shaking roar that seemed far too close; even with the ringing fog that held supremacy over Greg''s sense of hearing. Blue eyes visibly widened as the blond realized that what little time he had was basically at an end. Okay, planning time over. Time to move. He nodded to himself, the action shifting to a sudden shake of the head as he pulled his sword from the floor and dismissed it to his Inventory before taking several slow steps back. He retreated cautiously, taking enough time to be careful with his steps so as not to make any noise until his back met the wall behind him. Knees already bent, Greg slowly tilted forward and lowered the rest of him to shift his center of gravity. His Reinforcement spiked to its maximum output, the energy focused on his lower body as the teen stared straight ahead at the several holes he had flown through. One after another, each was visible in the light of the flames from just outside the windowless storefront. A pocket of Aerokinesis formed at his back, a mass of air taller and wider than he was packed with enough air pressure to send a large vehicle airborne if ruptured. It wasn''t exactly what Greg wanted, but it would have to do. For now. Body humming with unreleased power, the young cape allowed himself another smile, unable to help himself at this point. Taking down Lung for good wasn''t something you did everyday, after all. The ground-shaking footsteps came closer and closer, Lung''s volume increasing in time with the ambient heat surrounding Greg. He grinned savagely despite the added sweat pooling on his brow forcing him to blink the salty liquid from his eyes. Oh yeah, he''s close. As quickly as the grin appeared, it suddenly vanished as Greg blinked in confusion. The sounds from Lung: the charging footsteps, the angered bellows that seemed to be the villain''s calling card, the jet-like roar of flames as they were given new life from the dragon-man''s attention¡­ They had stopped. All of them. The only thing remaining that could be attributed to him, Greg noted with a unsteady frown, was a low rumbling growl that, while undoubtedly Lung with his gravel-like vocal cords, seemed far too loud. Far, far, too loud for something as simple and understated as a growl. Far too loud. Blue eyes widened for the third time as the blond realized something. Okay, so he''s almost right on top of me. I need to get out of here nownownownow. His [Danger Sense] seemed to be in agreement with him, if the pulse he could now make out over the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his skull was anything to go by. Okay¡­ Greg held himself still, not even breathing as he kept his senses locked firmly on the fiery outside of the half-burnt and crumbling building. His eyes and ears waiting for a sign of their own, the blond kept half his focus on his [Danger Sense], waiting for that tingle of danger that ran down his spine and pulsed in his head before he risked throwing himself out into the open again. The relative silence stretched out for far too long; the sound of Lung''s rumbling breath, crackling flames and the creaking of the building around him louder than anything else in the world as he focused what remained of his hearing on them. Lung shifted suddenly, powerful muscles slamming against the ground with mammoth force. The reverberations shook Greg''s hide-away at the same moment Lung let out another roar, challenging his opponent to face him and die. The very same instant Greg''s [Danger Sense] blared a warning. [Burst!] -40 His already maximized Reinforcement multiplied to new heights as Greg Veder took one powerful step forward. The golden light concentrated in his lower body flared a bright, bloody red for a heartbeat as the marble floor cracked under his feet, a spider-web of fissures forming instantly. The mass of pressure behind him erupted as he forced the side facing the wall to suddenly give way and all three floors of the building suddenly groaned as it was once again met with a level of force it was not designed to weather. The building around Greg shattered as he launched himself out of it uncaringly as unrelenting air pressure impacted against already crumbling brick, mortar and plaster, all of which shattered under the stress. The entire building went up in hellfire half an instant later.
Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lvl Up! 24 ¡ú Max Reinforcement (Apprentice) ¡ú Reinforcement (Acolyte) Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 1 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Cost: 5 Will/s Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. (x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR) Cost: 25 Will, 50 HP Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! 10 ¡ú 11
All right! Greg didn''t even notice the further destruction he''d left behind him as he shot out from the collapsing structure fast enough that he visibly strained from the sudden acceleration, face pulled back into a grimace as he was launched through the air like a cannonball. I''m out. I''m flying. What next? was the first thing that popped into his mind, the young cape already drawing on his Aerokinesis to slow and reorient what could only be termed his flight path. A pulse. A roar. A sigh. Why do I ask these questions? The knight-themed cape didn''t even look at his attacker, relying on his instincts as he forced his body into a mid-air spin with his arms raised in a defensive ''X'' to shield his face. Not a full second later, he was glad he did. It was like staring into the sun behind half-closed eyes, a sudden flare of yellow light that seemed to touch everything despite being so far from it all. A shining lance of condensed flame ¨C the blast no wider around than a grown man, compared to Lung''s usual massive blasts ¨C seared past him and roared off into the sky, the edges of the plasma spear not even coming within several feet from his body. Much like the sun, though, distance was for the best of all that witnessed it. -148 (Critical Hit!) -31 -27 -13 -12 -9 -4
Debuff: Second-Degree Burn (Arms) ¨C 1 Hour
Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 49 ¡ú 52
Greg Veder opened his mouth in a soundless gasp, unprepared for that single moment of raw, intensely powerful heat. His mouth, lungs, eyes, skin; every single part of him seemingly lost what little moisture yet remained as Lung''s blast threatened to set the very air on fire. Worse than the thick cloying smoke already stinging his eyes and making his throat feel like gravel, the blast had managed to sear his flesh even without touching him; his gauntlets and chestplate partly melted from just that alone. His face was a rictus of pain. Reinforcement only did so much to mitigate the excruciating sensation of being broiled alive and bearing the wounds for such. As much as he was screaming and cursing his head off on the inside, Greg could only form his throbbing hands into shuddering fists and react the only way he knew how. A Mana Platform formed under his foot for a fraction of a second as he forced himself into another flip, and the exact moment he was perfectly upside down was the very same that Greg Veder kicked off of another, launching himself straight down and far away from the effective radius of another of Lung''s sun blasts. -72 He blinked away the red notification in his vision, wincing as the harsh touchdown made his calves burn from the sudden impact. His knees buckled, a sharp pain plaguing his joints as Greg was forced to shift his body weight almost as soon as he landed or risk greater injury despite the healthy amount of Reinforcement keeping them strong. His head jerked up almost immediately after that, pain fading quickly as shock blanked out everything else in his mind. Holy hamburgers, he''s huge. Greg suppressed the urge to let his jaw hang as Lung''s already massive forelimbs bulged in size again, looking out of place even against Lung''s impressive eighteen feet of height. The sudden shift in mass sunk them deeper into the bubbling tar pit that was once asphalt beneath his feet. The villain roars were loud enough that the noise felt almost physical. For a moment ¨C with his oversized torso, outrageously huge limbs, vicious claws and general gait ¨C Greg couldn''t help but liken the villain to a particularly scaly bear-cat-monster. Then, with a sound that might have been half that a roar and half again a groan, the nubs on his back exploded outwards with a sickening crack and a spray of blood and flesh that almost instantly vanished vanished in the scorching heat surrounding Lung. Massive spears of gore-covered bone jutted from the villain''s shoulder-blades, each one rapidly growing in size and segmentation almost immediately as they appeared. His spine stretched outwards grotesquely, the half-baked growths of bone and red-tinted flesh literally exploding outwards as bat-like wings sprouted into full bloom; each one bigger than Lung himself was. Jesus H. Christ, why is he so goddamn big¡­? No. Not the time. Greg Veder was already moving before he shook his head, running towards Lung''s partially hunched-over and groaning form, not willing to waste this moment out of something as stupid as shock. He couldn''t let Lung grow any bigger, not if he expected to be the one to end this. He had a plan, of course. It was a shit plan and would likely go wrong almost immediately, but it was ¨C by some definitions, at least ¨C a plan. The way Greg saw it, this whole situation wasn''t a fight so much as it was a dominance display for Lung, the villain wanting to fight him one on one for more than just kicks. It had to have hurt his pride, his reputation, everything that mattered to a guy like Lung, to lose to some rando no one had ever heard before. Especially when that rando was a kid. To counter that, Lung had to display his dominance by utterly wrecking his opponent in a way that no one could doubt who was stronger. To beat him, Greg would have to fight fire with fire. In this case, quite literally. "Fire Dragon''s A-Aura!" The scream from Greg shifted from a raspy gasp to a perfectly clear shout mid-sentence, fresh oxygen suddenly filling the teen''s airways as opposed to the smoke and soot that had been slowly choking him before. Even the heat he felt around him had lessened; the once oppressive and oven-like conditions now seemed more like something out of a sauna. A smile crossed Greg''s face as he spared a glance at himself and the orange-red flames wafting off his body, the expression cheerful for a moment before shifting into something only described as predatory. He glanced back at Lung, a whim suddenly coming to the forefront of his mind and Greg indulging it almost instinctively. Observe.
Lung Lvl 145 Overlord of the ABB Title: Dragon King of War HP: ??????/????? Status: ???, ???, ???, ???, ???, ??? As the mighty Dragon of Kyushu, Lung has tangled with the CUI, the Protectorate and the Endbringer of Water itself, Leviathan. A suicidal opponent to face for even the most veteran of heroes, Lung gives no quarter and holds no real standards of honor, only interested in appearances and being in power. He is here to kill you; to utterly destroy you with as much of an audience as he can manage. He will not stop until either of you are dead or close enough because he would rather die than lose twice to a child.
Observe Lvl Up! 16 ¡ú 18
That predatory smile drew back in on itself, gaining a rather unsettled tinge as Greg found himself shuddering at both the level and all those question marks, desperately hoping they weren''t what as bad as he feared them to be. Before he could dwell on his suddenly renewed sense of caution, a pulse at the base of his neck caught his attention and the teenager sprung back into action, focus returning. Mana Platform!
Mana Platform Lvl Up! 4 ¡ú 6
He flung himself forward and up, a small pocket of air exploding from behind and launching him over Lung''s massive form and a wave of fire that threatened to roast him alive. In between breaths, both Lung''s and his, he summoned his weapon back to his right hand, biting back an angry scream as the villain raised his head to shoot him a molten glare. "MOTHERF-" "Language, foul beast!" Greg shouted, voice clear and loud as he slashed out with Gram from a distance, blades of wind glinting against Lung''s armor. Some of the more powerful ones actually bit into his scales, exposing oddly patterned, reddish flesh and creating gashes and gouges where they could. "There are children watching!" Twisting to avoid Greg''s razor sharp-slashes and weathering those he couldn''t, Lung''s long, sinuous body moved with a speed and grace truly alien to his size, the massive villain seemingly gaining more and more grace the longer he stayed transformed. Even though he was bigger than most trucks, had a super-long neck, a deadly tail, and gigantic wings, the giant scaly asshole was doing his very best to act like he didn''t weigh a couple tons, and succeeding. Greg himself was a blur of motion, never in the same place for longer than an instant; springing, side-stepping, whirling, twisting, he offered a constantly shifting yet near-untouchable target for Lung''s teeth, claws and flame. At the same time, his own straight blade sang death as they carved through glistening silver scales. Lung tried his best but he couldn''t exactly make himself any smaller of a target. It remained rather insane, though, that out of all the crazy things that Greg could think of about a man that literally turned into a dragon ¡ª from his four jaws to the crazy-fast healing or the fact that his blood managed to somehow literally boil inside his own body ¡ª what truly stuck out most in his mind was just how agile the giant silver fuck managed to be when it really mattered. Lung was no match for him in that category, of course. Greg was flitting in and out of the villain''s range like a particularly determined mosquito. A mosquito holding a needle enchanted with +7 Fuck You. Even so, despite Lung''s current sheer bulk, the way he could almost manage to keep up was still an insane thing to witness. Like watching an elephant perform a gymnastics routine, it just didn''t look quite right enough to be real. And yet, Lung did so anyways. But the dragon wasn''t fast enough to evade completely unscathed and Greg capitalized on that. Little nicks and scrapes added up with the ringing of wind-blades against silvery scales. Lung began to falter, slowing every so slightly in favor of more powerful attacks and counters, that Greg almost failed to notice it. But Lung was getting frustrated, unable to land a solid blow on the gnat that continued to pester him. Frustrated enough that one of Greg''s attacks managed to slip past his defense and land a substantial blow to Lung''s hind-leg, a potent scar of wind obliterating a thin line of scales and flesh but failed to cut deep enough to truly cripple the dragon. Lung screeched in agonizing rage as the flames around him howled. Sensing weakness, Greg launched himself towards the dragon-man who had fallen to all-fours as the flesh regrew. But in the instant was in range to swing Gram to take the villain''s head, the heat spiked. The yellow flames that formed the dragon''s holocaust aura gained a blue tinge, monstrous body expanding in an instant. As he grew, silver claws gleamed with malevolence, Lung lunged. Greg drew back instantly, almost dancing away from the bestial leap as he shifted around the villain, dodging by the skin of his teeth from the surprising speed. Raising his sword to counter, he could only click his tongue and give what Lung had tried a mental shake of the head. Sloppy. It really was. Sloppy was the only way to describe the move: the dragon used the wrong leg. Pouncing forward with the half-healed leg had robbed Lung of the momentum he would have needed to even try to surprise Greg, especially once the younger cape had gotten used to how the villain moved. The leg had already healed in that burst of growth, but Lung was still off-balanced by the failed lunge. Grin already wide across his face, the young cape brought his sword down and continued to respond the best way he could. "[Raging Combo!]" Forty slashes. Forty. In the span of less than five seconds.
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 28 ¡ú 30 Raging Combo Lvl Up! 13 ¡ú 15
Powerful swings that with a normal sword would easily bisect a man tore into Lung as Greg darted around and across his body, bouncing around as best he could before the villain could gather his bearings. He should have been nothing but a blur. Should being the operative word. By the twelfth slash of his sword, Lung''s glowing orange eyes had shifted before the rest of him, narrowing in on the golden glow of Gram as it tore into his regenerating body, streaks and sparks of gold light trailing behind the blade. By the twenty-fifth, the villain was already in motion. Slow motion, compared to Greg''s Reinforcement enhanced speed, but motion nonetheless. Less than three seconds, Greg noted to himself, the number lodging itself firmly in the back of his mind as he retreated away with a Reinforced leap the instant the dragon successfully parried Gram, narrowly avoiding Lung''s powerful stomp as he both cratered and melted the debris that remained in the general area where Greg had stood. Even with his body Reinforced to the maximum that Greg could manage, moments like that were far too common for Greg''s liking. Lung had extensive combat experience and was clearly adept at reading the flow of battle, and was far too comfortable with reacting to his movements in melee and trying to turn them against him. With every assault Greg attempted, the dragon was capable of reading it moments later to launch a counter, allowing Lung to make various attacks that came far too close for comfort on multiple occasions. Multiple. If the armored boy had his math right ¨C and he was pretty damn sure he did ¨C he had to have been darting all over the area with speed surpassing that of an Indy Car, albeit one with far superior acceleration. Yet Lung persisted. A running theme of their duel to the death thus far ¡ª Lung never gave up. It was a sense of determination that Greg would have admired. At least, if it originated from nearly anyone other than the mini-kaiju trying to tear him apart and burn the pieces to ashes. "AAAAARRRRGGGGGGH!" The roar was followed up with a blast of flame as large as a mid-size sedan and a stream of thick, almost gelatinous flame. It was met with a whirlwind from Greg, the blond doing nothing more than spinning his free arm before letting a small tornado fly from the action, both dissipating as Greg bounded from location to location.
Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! 11 ¡ú 13
A pained roar accompanied the villain''s rushed attack as he spun almost one-hundred and eighty degrees, tail sweeping viciously towards the smaller cape as it once again made the air crack with its approach. Gram let out a near-audible hum as its wielder flooded his Willpower Into the Reinforced weapon, a sound that might just have been his imagination, and swung out the flat of his blade. His free hand, clad in a half-melted gauntlet, braced the other side of the blade and thrusted forward to meet Lung''s tail lash. A mass of spikes was turned aside with a deft parry, Greg''s amateur attempt at half-swording helping him accomplish the task, and he struck back. It was with a laugh that he nearly spun the glowing sword in his grip, simply flicking it with his wrist to add some force, and shaved off several feet from Lung''s fifth appendage before the villain could whip it away.
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 30 ¡ú 32 Parry 13 ¡ú 17
Dashing forward as Lung processed the sudden loss, roaring piteously at the shortening of his tail, Greg let out of a roar of his own and launched himself forward at Lung''s unprotected back. "[Dash Straight!]" The sword made contact with a not-insignificant burst of light as Greg rocketed past Lung with a spray of steaming, foul-smelling blood as Gram tore through the villain''s left knee, a massive chunk of flesh and scale blasting off the dragon''s leg. The dragon-man stumbled, unable to put proper weight on the injured hind-leg that had been cut down to the bone. The bloody red mist vanished in an instant from the heat as the world burned from Lung''s pain.
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 32 ¡ú 33 Dash Straight Lvl Up! 12 ¡ú 15
"By the way, that''s called an avulsion!" It was with that comment he let out a laugh that was far too guttural and raspy to sound a thing like himself. "I hope it hurts, you worthless lizard!" A limb as tall as Greg himself was and over twice again as wide slammed down on the exact same spot where Greg had been, the knightly cape dashing away in a surge of boosted speed. Lung roared wordlessly as a flame-wreathed hand dug into the ground, fire spiking in intensity and bringing the tarmac to a boil in seconds under his furious, unrelenting aura. Greg launched forward again, a trail of golden light and an explosive mass of air propelling him at high speeds. Lung did the same, a blast of flame propelling his still-shuddering body forward in a fiery imitation of Greg''s own method. [Danger Sense] pulsed a warning he didn''t need, Greg''s eyes widening slightly as a set of vicious, blazing claws rushed to tear him in various different pieces. He didn''t even have it in him to be surprised, Lung''s sudden crippling making him much slower than he had been just moments before. Another Mana Platform formed under Greg, the small plate of Mana shattering into its constituent near-translucent particles the instant he leapt off it. Heated orange eyes met Greg''s, the blond staring back with a determined expression. The world seemed to slow as he passed over Lung''s pouncing form. "[Dash Straight!]" Where Greg had once soared upwards, he now dropped like a stone, the golden light brightening for an instant as the sword in his hands was enhanced by yet another use of the same Skill. He paid no attention to how his seared arms screamed in pain at the moment of impact, his knees begging him not to repeat the action as he slammed down onto the ground finally. No, the only things he bothered to pay even the slightest bit of attention to was Lung''s glorious scream and the sound of three pounds of steel cleaving through the thickest part of the villain''s wrist. A spray of blood hit him the instant before he leapt back and several meters away, Greg nearly wincing before the liquid evaporated against his armor, steaming away with a smell that he would rather forget.
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 32 ¡ú 34 Dash Straight Lvl Up! 15 ¡ú 17 Mana Platform Lvl Up! 6 ¡ú 7
+ 1 STR
This was the new goal, the plan he should have gone with from the very beginning. He couldn''t try meeting Lung hit for hit anymore. Letting Lung set the pace of the fight was basically signing your death warrant, after all. Hell, the fact that he had previously rushed in to fight Lung without even so much as a coherent plan had not been the smartest idea... Honestly it was one of the stupidest things Greg had ever done. It was right up, near the top of the list of "Stupid Things Greg Has Done", he could admit that much. Right up there with the first time he had faced Lung without a coherent plan, probably. Most likely right next to the time where he had tried to kill Oni Lee while already bleeding out and almost dead on his feet. Again, none of these had been the greatest of ideas but¡­ Okay, there was no "but" to that. Trading blows with a titan like Lung, even before he was this big, was usually a more complicated form of suicide. Most capes fighting the Dragon of Kyushu one-on-one would have been a charred meal half-a-minute in with no way to actually damage the villain. Greg didn''t have to worry about that as much, though, as he had force multipliers to match the massive meathead. His "dragon-slaying" sword, his Skills, his Status¡­ From a pure stats perspective, Lung might have been an absolute monster but Greg knew for a fact that this was a monster he could bring down. As long as he was careful, at least. Lung''s stump of a right arm literally writhed before Greg''s eyes, the gory, bleeding mess bubbling up with flesh as the thing tried to heal. But rather than wait for it to regenerate, the dragon-man suddenly took to the air on those massive wings, beating his sixth and seventh limbs with enough force to buffet debris in a windstorm and fan the flames on the ground to greater heights. He reared his head back in another roar, individual words and curses lost beneath his own incomprehensible voice as he hovered above the plaza. As blood poured from his mutilated limb in steaming gouts, Lung lashed back out at Greg the only way he likely believed to be free of a counter, an focused blast of yellow-orange flame tearing out of his maw towards the ground. Greg''s breathing deepened, shifting to a near-wheeze as he literally felt the heat from the blast as it neared him; not on his skin, but somewhere else entirely. His eyes widened, a thought coming to mind and before he could brush it away, Greg was already in motion. "No, you don''t!" The blond spun on his heels and pulled at a feeling deep in his gut, screaming his words as he swung his arms forcefully in Lung''s direction. "TRY BETTER!" The blaze shuddered in mid-air as the entire cloud of infernal flame seemed to invert on itself and in under a second, the powerful eruption reversed direction in mid-air, swallowing several other newly launched flames from Lung as the dragon''s flames were turned against him. "Not done!" Greg swung his fist, a mass of air rocketing from his relatively tiny fist with intense speed, only to impact against the last reflected burst of flame moments before it struck Lung. An instant later, they both hit home.
Pyrokinesis (Basic) Lvl Up! 13 ¡ú 17 Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! 13 ¡ú 14
The surprise on Lung''s face as his own flames turned against him would have been comical if it wasn''t also the fuel for a thousand nightmares, the villain''s long serpentine neck flailing in apoplectic fury as Greg''s final wind-enhanced fire blast exploded against his upper chest. The ground shook as Greg fought to keep his footing with [Surface Adhesion], the ground vibrating under his feet from the power of the sudden flare and a plume of smoke, soot and fire exploding upwards from the epicenter of the blast. Rocks and rubble sent flying blazed like meteors past Greg''s vision, some even melting to slag. -4 -5 -8 -13 -15
Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 11 ¡ú 12 Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 52 ¡ú 53
Greg rushed forward with Gram held out in front of him, tearing across the burning ruins of Coventree Plaza with speed that left him at best a vaguely glowing blur. With Lung wide open, he wasn''t going to waste his opportunity. Lung seemed to be of the same mind, the airborne dragon-man opening his maw to release another swirling blast of flame far larger than even five of Greg put together. The armored cape was already dodging before he had seen it, bursting forwards and diving into a roll. A single moment later, he leapt again, this time straight up towards Lung''s flying form to avoid what was now a series of blasts from the unrelenting villain roaring above him. Lung tilted his head to the side, serpentine neck seeming to coil like a spring, before suddenly lashing out towards Greg with all four jaws open wide to receive him. Greg swung out with a fist as Lung dove to catch him with his open maw, an explosive blast of wind forcefully batting the villain''s head aside. Another translucent platform solidified beneath his feet and he exploded off of it and directly towards Lung''s open and unprotected torso. "[Weapon Charge!] [Raging Combo!]" It had to be said that there were certain moments that Greg couldn''t help but feel like Gram was more than simple metal when he used it. The very essence of the sword resonated with his Mana and Willpower, seeming to cast aside the appearance of steel for a blurring crescent arc of auric majesty as he let the beautiful blade sing through the air with deadly precision. [Burst!] -40 Each slash was performed almost as fast as the actual thought, Greg''s health dropping as he forced his Reinforcement to spike again, the sensation of [Burst] still making him feel like it was rending his muscles apart every single time he used it. For all he knew, it actually was and he just didn''t know it, his power not deeming it important enough to inform him of it. [Burst!] -40 The wind screamed even louder on Greg''s behalf as his sword tore through air, scales, flesh and muscle with barely a pause. Red mist splattered from Lung, powerful veins releasing their pressure into the open air. Amplified even further at the cost of his own health, Greg grit his teeth and fought through the pain as much he could, raising his voice to match Lung''s roar as he just kept cutting. [Burst!] -40 Mana Platforms were created and destroyed en masse as Greg ping-ponged off each one of them like a sword-wielding superball, moving so fast he could barely even keep himself in the directions he had planned on. It was a burst of speed he only poured more of himself into, his screaming voice that of pain and anger to drown out Lung''s as his body protested the red glare he forced himself to weather. He was a blur of red, he knew that much, bursting off each hastily prepared platform at speeds nearing that of sound as they shattered around him and left each gash in Lung''s chest sparkling brightly for a few seconds. -40 Throughout all this, he never stopped screaming and swinging his sword, a fearsome frenzy of storming steel and raging energy repeated five times over. -40
Raging Combo Lvl Up! 15 ¡ú 18 Weapon Charge Lvl Up! 18 ¡ú 20 Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 34 ¡ú 36 Acrobatics Lvl Up! 31 ¡ú 33
The last cut tore across both of Lung''s massive legs with as powerful a rightward slash as Greg could feasibly manage, Gram screeching as it slid through layers and layers of super-dense flesh and armored scale. Lung struggled to keep himself in the air throughout the barrage as his wings flared. The dragon''s multitude of wounds rushed to heal at once as the villain found himself overwhelmed by the onslaught. As Greg''s razor-sharp rave came to an end, Lung attempted to take that moment to escape, flaring his aura of blue, blood-boiling flames to ward off another attack, but Greg still wasn''t done. "[Dash Straight!][Weapon Charge!]" With Gram in a two-handed grip, Greg brought the blade down on Lung''s shoulder as hard as he could manage, glowing metal meeting superhuman scale and flesh with enough force to make his arms buckle. They didn''t.
Weapon Charge Lvl Up! 20 ¡ú 22 Dash Straight Lvl Up! 17 ¡ú 19
Shining metal cut through layers upon layers of both scale and muscle with ease, only halting as it met bone. Half of the blade had sunk into Lung''s shoulder for the single instant before Greg tore it free and stabbed it deeper again into the villain''s body. The weapon sunk into the dragon''s shoulder blade this time, and Greg''s legs clung tightly to Lung''s body with [Surface Adhesion] as Lung thrashed and bucked in the sky above his hellscape, newly regenerated wings beating like mad. Lung''s corona burned hot, but Greg found himself ignoring the continuous melting of his armor in lieu of stabbing at Lung over and over like a man possessed. -16 -12 -14 -16 -15 -27 -22 -18 -23
Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 12 ¡ú 13
Fueled by fury he thought he had repressed, Greg staunchly ignored the pain of his body being roasted alive. Instead, he screamed his own incomprehensible shouts at Lung, scrambling from position to position around the villain''s neck to avoid Lung''s claw swipes and wide, flaming mouth. His skin burned even with his own corona of fire fighting back the heat from Lung''s own, the blood spraying from the dragon''s back doing its part to fight the flames in it''s own meager way as it steamed away. Greg did his very best to assist it as he introduced Gram to the villain''s flesh as quickly as he could manage. Naturally, the blade slowed as it met bone, not quite stopping but making it clear that it would take at least a few seconds for it to make its way through marrow. Seconds Greg didn''t feel like he could afford as he continued to hack at every part of the bucking dragon''s upper body and back he could feasibly reach. -9 -6 -13 -12 -5 -17 -14
Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 53 ¡ú 54
Lung spun in mid-air, clearly not focused on flying as his neck coiled in on itself in desperate attempts to aim at Greg, the villain trying to blast him off his perch. Ignoring the repeated gouts and streams of blue-yellow flames that threatened to burn him alive as they passed just scant feet away from him.
Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 13 ¡ú 15
Undeterred, the teenager clung to Lung''s neck, dragging himself up as he plunged Gram in at various points to act as some sort of handhold. It''s time to end this, was the thought that consumed him, Greg gritting his teeth as red notifications threatened to draw his attention away from the fight. Come on, Greg. Just like Darkness of the Titans. Climb. Stab. Rinse. Repeat. "Aaaaaaaaaaaah!" The scream was his ¨C all his ¨C as he leapt up Lung''s neck to grab hold of the back of the villain''s head with one glowing palm. Gauntlet half melted around his left hand, Greg fought the sudden and immediate desire to scream even more as he held onto Lung''s scaled ridges, the heat from them enough to blister his fingers immediately; the skin sizzling and blistering painfully on contact. -16 -9 -18 -14 -6 -11 -7 -8 -19 -12 Still screaming as he hung onto the bucking, thrashing dragon for all he was worth, Greg brought Gram down again, the shining blade piercing through the side of Lung''s jaw repeatedly with barely any resistance compared to what Greg had met with before. Lung''s roaring scream was far more guttural and raw than Greg had heard since the fight began. Chunks of flesh were carved from the Changer villain''s large, monstrous head, a deep groaning noise that only filled the blond teenager with a furious determination to go even further. Lung twisted again, neck coiling like a snake as he flipped over in mid-air and beat his wings with all his might, flailing and rearing his draconic head up as he flew straight up over the burning plaza. The dragon sought to take them higher into the sky, into the clouds of ash and smoke rising from their infernal battlefield that blotted out the sun. High enough to make Greg think twice about continuing to cling to him as he soared higher.. [Inventory!]Greg dismissed his sword again, mind racing as he went over another idea and desperately hoping it wouldn''t fall apart around his ears like so many others. He shifted his [Surface Adhesion] to the soles of his feet, rising to a position that looked more fitting on a surfer than a superhero as he stood up halfway on Lung''s thrashing neck.
Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 15 ¡ú 16
The wind spun around him, blowing in his ears as Lung flew up and down, sinuous body moving in ever-twisting circles as he flared his corona of hellfire to explosive levels hoping to dislodge the determined teen. In under a second, Greg''s armor started to slag from the infernal blue heat radiating off the dragon, his greaves and sabatons melting, burning into his skin. Even as his helmet began to droop around his skull somewhat and the other metal pieces on his person only appeared as vague guidelines as to what they once were ¨C all the cloth having been burnt to embers ages ago ¨C Greg paid neither that nor Lung any mind as he brought his burned hands together, the half-molten metal only making such things even worse, and tried to focus. -11 -8 -16 -9 -13 -14 -7 -12 -13
Resistance: Heat Lvl Up! 54 ¡ú 55
It took several seconds before it formed like he expected, Greg having pulled and pulled at the metaphorical well inside him for all he was worth. The whirling wind around him seemed to still before suddenly returning to life, streams of blue-tinted air coalescing in the space between his outstretched palms. The young knight was unfazed by the movement of airas it all rushed towards him, the thrum of it becoming faster and faster and faster the more Lung moved until¡­ "Razor Wind¡­" It hung there, humming between burnt fingers and half-melted gauntlets, an idea he had stolen being brought to life. Winds that spun ever faster, sharpened farther, compressed into a smaller shape until he held in his hands a bulging sphere of fresh air and death that wanted nothing more than to be set free; to tear and rip whatever the blades inside it met to shreds. Fully in agreement with the idea, Greg let the thing go, screaming as he hurled the near translucent sphere down towards the space between Lung''s wings. "Sphere!"
Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! 14 ¡ú 16
The noise of a screaming, buzzing windstorm and ear-splitting roars drowned out everything ele and the world around Greg became an ever-shifting downwards spiral. Lung dropped like a stone, spinning down towards the fiery hellscape he had flown above with one of his wings utterly torn to shreds and the other barely more than flaps of bleeding flesh and bone. Deep gashes ran down the entirety of his back and down to what remained of his tail, a bloody tempest still tearing its way down before it exploded again. Lung''s roars were loud enough to shatter eardrums. Teeth grit as he spun out with Lung towards the still-burning plaza, Greg resummoned Gram to his right hand and forced the blade into the side of the villain''s jaw, the blue glow of his [Surface Adhesion] and the fire from his [Dragon''s Flame Aura] spreading out over the surface of the weapon. Come on! Letting out an audible grunt, he tugged hard with the sword''s hilt, dragging Lung''s flailing and uncooperative head to the side as he did his best to steer the dragon into the hardest landing he could manage. Come on! Come ON! The impact was an earthquake, crumbling already-ruined buildings, shattering what few windows remained for nearly half a block around and creating a crater in the middle of the plaza. -98 -22 -18 -14 -12
Surface Adhesion Lvl Up! 16 ¡ú 17
Greg shuddered with the landing, suffering the jarring stop of the sudden stop even as Lung took the vast majority of the crash. A final stuttering slide sent him falling from Lung''s head, skidding across burning grass as he tried to blink the stars from his eyes. The sudden roar from behind him caught him off guard as did the pulse of his [Danger Sense]. Dazed as he was, the twin warnings were too late to save him as a seemingly insensate Lung reared to life, serpentine neck arching down from above him. Four-parted jaws caught him by the mid-section and Greg Veder screamed bloody murder as Lung''s fangs crunched down on his torso. His sword moved in time with his flailing hands, blade sinking into the fleshiest part of Lung''s mouth as quickly as he could manage. -89 -57 -75 -42 -19
Debuff: Bleeding (Severe) ¨C 1 Hour Debuff: Thoracic Laceration (Severe) ¨C 2 Hours
Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! 37 ¡ú 40
Rearing back again, Lung shook his head from side to side, the villain hurling his unprepared attacker into the already-shattered wall of a burned-out convenience store. The attempt was far weaker than Greg would have ever expected from Lung, the blond barely even fazed all that much by the throw even as he was sent through another wall ¡ª likely his fifth since he woke up. If there was some kind of quota for this sort of thing, let there be no doubt that Greg Veder was the one meeting and exceeding it with ease. The blond cape rebounded with a grace that only came easily to the casually superhuman capable of such feats of agility despite grievous, mortal injuries; flipping backwards and onto his feet again without a moment''s hesitation as a stream of fire chased after him into the already wrecked building. Greg paid it no mind and rushed back out, his vision blurring as he burst out of the half-charred husk of a store to face Lung once again. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Greg Veder blinked. "Oh." Correction, to face a stumbling, weakened Lung. The villain roared weakly at the sight of his much smaller opponent, body writhing and steaming as gouts of blood still poured from open wounds. It was clear that Lung was still healing: the bubbling red skin under exposed scales as ribbons of muscle and corded flesh began to knit itself back together could be seen by the naked eye. His scales were in shambles, leaving a good chunk of his flesh unprotected; and virtually all of that open flesh was absolutely riddled with injuries. There were hundreds¡­ no, thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands of those same shifting threads of muscle visible to Greg''s [Keen Vision]. Lung''s corded, inhuman flesh threaded itself together like a spider-web weaving itself into existence, drawing into a tighter and tighter configuration. One by one, they tensed, and a single wound drew shut. One among so many others. Even as his wounds slowly healed, a good portion of Lung''s right arm still hung off at the shoulder, the limb still very much a stump for all that it was slowly regrowing its lost hand and fingers. It was no longer bleeding, but it was still a weakness¡­ one Greg had delivered for that exact purpose. His left knee was much in the same condition: the half-cleaved flank was in no shape for Lung to be putting any weight on it the way he was, having it support his massive body despite the leg looking like it would barely support someone a tenth Lung''s size. Steaming blood gushed down his back while those shredded wings fluttered with barely any support, bleeding even further as the dragon''s flesh stitched itself back together, bit by bit. His terrifying visage was rendered even more gruesome by the cuts and missing scales and blood drenched over the dragon''s head and damaged horns. Not even a blind man would fail to notice the weakness on display from Lung. And judging by the simmering anger in Lung''s gaze as he lumbered to keep Greg in his view, the Dragon of Kyushu knew perfectly well that was the case. But Lung was not weak. He was still terrifyingly strong and cloaked in a corona of bright blue flames that burned everything they touched. It was hot enough to cook a man alive from even a distance, choking the air out of almost anyone''s lungs before either smoke or actual flame could end them first. All that from a halo of devastating energy that steadily boiled the ground Lung stood on to magma and seared the sky as Lung''s hatred spread through the battlefield to overtake everything with hellish blue flames. The air around the dragon-man was hazy from the heat and everything around Lung possessed a mirage-like quality, so distorted by the blue fire that it was notable even amidst the blurry, smoke-dense air of this infernal battlefield. Amidst that distortion, even the heavily wounded Lung appeared like a monster conjured from nightmares. One more big one. Greg centered himself, sword in hand as he took a determined step forward. He pointed a single half-charred finger at the lumbering beast over a dozen meters away. Power swelled within his chest as he called to memory the reasons he was here. All the pain and anguish and suffering he had experienced over the last few days and made that his determination. Anger swelled within him, and gave him strength. Here we go. [Aerokinesis] swirled around him before spreading outward along the path he wished to propagate the sound of his declaration. "Do you see it, Lung? Can you finally see it?" Lung let out another deep groan of a roar; one that didn''t give Greg the feeling it was from pain or even anger, but more of simple exasperation. Anger or not, it didn''t prevent Lung from launching several, bright blue fireballs the size of trucks at Greg. "Just like the last time..." Greg whirled on his heels, the aura of red-orange flame surrounding his own body flaring as he drew on his [Pyrokinesis]. The first fireball was dealt with quickly as Greg pushed out with an open palm, the blaze suddenly flaring brighter only to dim an instant later, losing it''s cohesiveness until it was nothing but a wisp long before reaching their target. The second and third were dealt with at the same time, Greg diverting the path of one before it crashed into the other, the resulting conflagration landing close enough that Greg had to force himself not to flinch from the sudden wave of heat. "You have to know¡­" -8 -11 -3 -5
Pyrokinesis (Basic) Lvl Up! 17 ¡ú 18
"That this fight¡­" He dodged another, letting it sear just past his head with a bright flash as the fireball struck home not too far behind him while the last, a dark-blue maelstrom of heat, Greg met head on; a curled hand screaming with compressed wind combined with his [Pyrokinesis] tore the thing apart and launched its remains back where they came from. Lung paid the blast even less mind as it struck him, not caught off-guard this time by Greg''s ability to manipulate flames, the much smaller fireball dissipating into tendrils of flame around Lung''s corona as the dragon-man let out another tired roar. "This fight was mine from the start!" Greg roared back, I mean, I fought in this fight so in a sense... it is mine. Not willing to let the pedantic part of his mind distract from his monologue, the cape in the partially-melted armor raised his sword arm ¨C right limb still bleeding rather heavily ¨C and traced an arc in the air as he brought it down again to point towards Lung. "Because you see, Lung¡­" His left joined his right, both hands tightening around the hilt of Gram. An inhuman blue light bled over the normal hue of his eyes, Greg pulling up all his mana as he finally began to say what he had prepared. "This sword of mine glows with an awesome power!" His fingers trembled from both pain and excitement as he pushed his [Reinforcement] as high as he could manage it. As all the Willpower he could manage flowed through his body and the sword, Gram''s edge lit up with a brilliance Greg had never seen before. "Its burning blade tells me to defeat you!"
Taunt Lvl Up! 13 ¡ú 16
There was anger now, an audible rage reviving in Lung''s bestial tone, as he squared his mangled shoulders, four-sectioned maw opening up and shaking the air with the force of his deafening roar, one silver-scaled fist scattering the dark tar that was boiled asphalt into the air as he pounded his limb into the ground and lurched furiously towards Greg. "Take this!" Greg raised his voice again, gearing himself up."My hate, my pain, and all of my fury!" He rushed forward, each step feeling like one too many as Greg poured on as much speed as he could manage. "Dragon!" [Weapon Charge!] He raised the glowing weapon as it shifted colors, Mana and Will flowing through the dragon-slaying sword. Greg''s mind focused keenly on the target of his rage, and knew in that moment his sword''s name meant Wrath, just as Lung began to move his lumbering form to meet his attacker faster than one might expect. "Slaying!" [Dash Straight!] What was formerly a run transformed into a charge, the air keening as he rocketed forward in a flare of golden light, Greg Veder flooding the weapon in his hands with all the power he had left. "Shockwave!" With a burst of flame beneath him, Lung took to the sky. [Burst!]With an explosion of red power surging through him, Greg did the same and shot to the sky, mouth still moving as he whispered the last syllable, calling the sword''s name to unleash its power. "...Gram!" Greg lashed out with his sword far faster than he thought was possible for him to move ¡ª so quickly that even he could only see the trail of light it left behind. Yet his mind didn''t even consider that speed as something of note for all of his attention was focused on Lung as the sword neared the dragon-man''s midsection, aiming to carve out the villain''s heart. But Lung had twisted in flight, his one intact forearm ablaze with plasma-like blue fire, and ripping through the air with plasma-laden claws to shred Greg before his sword could land, obviously expecting to catch the other cape off guard. Lung''s sudden roar of surprise went ignored by Greg as the blond instead shifted his trajectory to bring the sword down on the closest part of Lung he could reach, still screaming that one last syllable. Greg struck first. The world seemed to lose color and everything slowed down to a crawl as Greg felt the air around him thin appreciably. All the energy he had been channelling flooded into his sword, leaving the rest of him feeling rather empty for that instant as Gram took everything he had and used it to exercise the warrior''s Wrath.. A vacuum of air formed along the back end of the blade as it swung down, while a pressurized force more concentrated than anything he could manage with simple air slowly - from his perspective - grew in size along the other, the very air seemingly condensed along its path. To call it anything less than a thunderous impact would have been minimizing the sheer magnitude of what Gram had done when it struck the thickest part of Lung''s arm with a coruscated shockwave of raw, directed force. The villain''s fiery aura vanished the very instant Greg''s sword met his scaled arm: those hellish flames blown out entirely as if the literal inferno of crematorial fire had been nothing more than a weak candle flame in front of an open window. Then, the force¡­ -56 -78
Swordplay: Single Blade Lvl Up! 36 ¡ú 40 Weapon Charge Lvl Up! 22 ¡ú 23 Dash Straight Lvl Up! 19 ¡ú 20
Greg''s eyes shut instinctively as Gram bucked in his grip, a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before sending an uncontrolled shudder through his bones. Then the blast hit him back, and Greg blacked out. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Moments later when he forced his eyes open again, teeth grit as pain flared once more in his chest and back, he did so staring at the smoke-clouded sky as ash rained all about them, and fires continued to burn all around him. Straining from the protest of his muscles and ribs, he clutched his chest and pulled himself up off the ground into a sitting position with a frown, waiting for the pain to subside as it usually did. He glanced around from where he sat, the charred, still-burning husk of Coventree Plaza meeting his eyes. Greg blinked, staring down at himself with confusion, only to raise his gaze again as he spotted Gram lying on a pile of burning debris just a few feet from him¡­ What? How did I¡­ Blue eyes widened and the cape leapt to his feet like his life depended on it, only wasting a single moment to flinch as nearly every muscle and bone in his body flared with some sort of pain in response. Again, he did his very best to ignore that, pressing onward as he glanced around himself wildly. It only took him a few seconds more to spot what he had been searching for. The massive body of Lung''s transformed state - or what remained of it, at the very least - lay in the center of the plaza, the bulk of him scattered atop the crushed stone of what used to be a rather large fountain. The dragon-man''s halo of flame was gone not even a single candle''s worth of fire flickered on his fires raging all around, which had seemed unending and sky-high just moments ago, had already begun to settle and burn what remaining fuel was left to burn with none of the intensity that had raged with during the battle for some odd reason. It was almost as if the primary inciter of the blaze was no longer able to fuel it. Greg shook his head, fighting yet another flinch as his neck protested even that much, and simply let out a sigh. Please be dead¡­ or at least, dying, he half-begged anyone that might be listening, retrieving his sword before tentatively making his way over. Is that too much too ask? As Greg neared Lung''s unmoving form, he realized that it didn''t seem to be too much too ask at all. In addition to all the injuries that he hadn''t had the time to fully heal yet, - wings, arm, knee and myriad, open wounds - Lung had sustained yet another in the form of a massive gaping laceration, like a giant had taken some jagged spoon and simply scooped out the parts he wanted. So much skin and muscle on his torso was almost entirely gone, the bones in the wound''s path had been powderized to fragments, the shoulder and wing on that side of his body obliterated along with them while Lung''s other arm was pulped to a new extreme. If the slash had gone any deeper or cut any further, Lung would have been completely bisected, from left shoulder to right waist. In short, it was beyond gruesome. Greg''s eyes widened at the sight of the dragon-man; the fact that entire chunks of flesh were just gone from something as big as Lung was a sight that he doubted anyone would ever expect to see in their life. I did this, he thought to himself, flames still crackling around him and the sound of sirens and movement even farther back. I did this to Lung. The satisfied smile that spread across his face had nothing at all to do with the sight in front of him. No, Greg was sure that, instead, it had everything to do with the feeling of relief that passed over him as he realized that he was almost done with what he had set out to do. At least, that was what he told himself as he stared on at his own handiwork, refusing to acknowledge that warmth in his chest. He also refused to accept the distinct disappointment he began to feel as he witnessed the sight of new and raw red-tinted flesh ever-so-slowly begin to creep its way over exposed bone and muscle. The sound of Lung''s near-silent, yet labored, breathing itself also had nothing to do with the slight frown that threatened to overwhelm his previous expression or the tightening of his fingers around Gram. Honestly. Dragon Slaying Shockwave, huh? He shook his head as he continued to watch Lung''s wounds slowly, slowly, slowly begin to scab over. It''s literally in the name but nooooo~ I can''t have this one thing. Greg Veder let out a long sigh as he felt his Willpower and Mana start to return to him in steady trickles, the teenager flicking his gaze from Lung over to the torrents of water currently blasting down one side of the half-charred and still burning mountains of rubble. Firefighters¡­ He blinked, remembering the near armada of red vehicles he had seen rushing down half-empty and still intact streets as he had made his way down to Lung. If they''re just now getting here then¡­ Greg paused his thought, glancing over his shoulder at the farthest end of the plaza. Former buildings, long collapsed into the streets leading in and out of the commercial plaza as their supporting structures surrendered to heat and force still continued to serve Lung''s goal of separating this fight from outside interference. The distant siren of PRT vans, police cruisers and fire-fighting trucks were just audible from behind the ruins and barriers of debris and flaming wreckage. During the fight, they would have been impassable, Lung''s power forcing the flames to such a level that they were more than simply dangerous, the environment alone enough to boil almost any cape of PRT officer in their spandex or armor. They''ll be here soon, he finished the thought with a deeper frown before turning his attention back to Lung. He wasn''t surprised to realize they were so close, not really. They wouldn''t have strayed too far from the fight in the first place. Now that the oven-like heat and the boiling tar of a street had settled almost completely to what they were before, they were bound to enter an area they couldn''t risk before. It was what the city''s official heroes would have to do in order to figure out what had happened, and apprehend both the villain and the vigilante that were stuck inside. Greg Veder sighed, hoping that he wouldn''t be stuck here when they arrived but right now, he doubted he could just up and leave without confirming something first. In fact... Jesus Christ, where is it, already? Another noise finally sounded off and the blond let out a relieved sigh, eyes closing for a moment before he opened them, glancing just inches above his normal line of sight. Fuckin'' finally.
Quest Success! "A Knight''s Duty II: Dragonfall" Completed! Gained 25 Stat Points Gained 10 Perk Points Gained 220000 XP Gained 5 STR Gained 5 SPD Gained 20 VIT Gained $50000 Unlocked Trait: [Dragon King''s Blood] Unlocked Trait:[Dragon King''s Soul] Gained Item: [List of ABB Holdings] Gained 5 to [Pyrokinesis (Basic] Bonus Objective: Gained 10 Stat Points, Gained 5 Perk Points, Gained 110000 XP, Gained $100000, Gained Item: [Lung''s Mask], Gained Item: [ABB Master Key], Gained Item: Dragon Wings (30 ft) x 2, Gained Item: Dragon Tail (7.5 ft) Bonus: Failed
Level Up x 7! You are now Level 30. You gained 18 Stat Points. You gained 2 Perk Points.
Dragon-Blooded ¡ú Dragon King''s Blood Dragon-Souled ¡ú Dragon King''s Soul Fire Dragon''s Aura ¡ú Dragon King''s Aura Dragon-Blooded Knight ¡ú Dragonbane Knight
Title Gained! Dragonbane Knight To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s.
Trait(s) Gained! Dragon King''s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You''re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD
Dragon King''s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You''ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ''Dragon'' than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT
Perk Gained! Dragon King''s Aura (1/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself.
PERKS (NEW)
PERKS (NEW) Acoustic License You don''t have to be so loud. Whenever someone is speaking to you within hearing distance, you can hear them as if they were right next to you. 1 PP Aero-Kinetic Emphasis on the kinetic. All [Air]-based abilities gain 10% increased damage in the form of knockback. 2 PP Ambidextrous Neither a lefty or a rightie. You experience no Damage or Skill reduction when attacking and defending with or using a melee, throwing or ranged weapon in your off hand. 1 PP High Speed Incantation What was that? I didn''t catch that. If you so choose, you can say a Skill name in the space of about a second. However, anyone listening will hear it as gibberish if you want them to. Otherwise, they will interpret it to be heard as if you said the full thing in real time. 1 PP Pulling Out All The Stops (0/10) Go beyond the limits... Limit Break! For 1 minute, your WP and MP are unlimited. However, your HP drops to 0 after exactly sixty seconds. 2 PP Pyro-Kinetics Emphasis on the kinetic All [Fire]-based abilities gain 10% increased damage in the form of knockback. 2 PP Rabbit of Caerbannog (0/5) No ordinary rabbit. You do 10% more damage against anyone who underestimates you. 1 PP Might Brace for Impact Grit your teeth and take the hit. When any knockback-inflicting strike is blocked, you are not knocked off your feet. 2 PP Forceful Strike I''m trying to hurt ya, not kill ya. Minimizes unarmed damage against targets that you do not wish to seriously hurt, dealing 90% of damage in the form of knockback that does not cause criticals or one-hit kills. 1 PP Invulnerable Knuckles MY FISTS, THEY ARE MADE OF STEEL! While you still feel the pain, you no longer take damage when exerting your strength against something more durable than you are. 1 PP Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. 2 PP Stand n'' Strike You can come to me. Remaining in one place, you hit 10% harder against any opponent while taking 10% less physical damage. 1 PP Strength of the Dying (0/5) The more you hurt me, the harder I hit you. When your remaining HP is lower than 5%, you gain an effective STR bonus of 25. 2 PP Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. 2 PP Unstoppable Rage (1/4) Rage is a hell of an anesthetic. While angry to the point of causing a Status Effect, gain an additional 25% to STR and SPD at the cost of 50% INT. 2 PP Celerity Anticipation A focused mind is one that thinks ahead. SPD is increased by 20% when attempting to block or parry. 3 PP Blade Acceleration I didn''t even see it move... Any blade in your hand seems to slice through the air with an unparalleled ease and a blurring speed, the edged weapon seeming to hum for some reason¡­ +50% Attack Speed with bladed weapons 2 PP Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. 2 PP Evasive Agility How do you dodge a bomb? Take 10% less damage from AoE attacks or attacks not targeting you. 2 PP Perfect Inner Ear What''s so hard about a tightrope? Your physical body has improved to the point that even small things, like balance, have increased to the point of perfection, or as near to it as anyone could ever imagine. + 10 to Acrobatics 3 PP Turn on A Dime It''s easy to make turns if you have a dime to turn on. When running or leaping, you can immediately turn or rebound once without losing any momentum or acceleration. 2 PP Unnecessary Combat Roll "Unnecessary: (adj.) not necessary." Whenever you attempt to dodge an attack by rolling or diving, you take 10% less damage if it hits. 1 PP Wall Jump Drive yourself up a wall Whenever you consciously choose to spring up a wall, you instinctively and automatically wall-jump with no chance of falling, excluding external factors. 1 PP Constitution Blood Brings Victory Spit in the face of your enemies and rise up. Upon receiving a critical hit, gain 5 effective levels to the affected resistance, if possible. 2 PP Capegoat (0/10) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. 3 PP Growing Will (0/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. 1 PP Hard Head I BREAK THINGS WITH MY FACE! All critical attacks targeting your head are 50% less effective while melee attacks made using your head do 25% more damage. 2 PP Last Legs Got one more left in me, I think. After being knocked out once, you immediately regain consciousness with a portion of your Health and Will recovered and temporary bonuses to all physical stats and resistances. Can only be used once every 24 hours. + 20% Health +10% Will +20% to all physical stats (30 seconds) +10% to all resistances (30 seconds) 5 PP Long-Fall (0/10) Base-jumping without a parachute? Reduce Blunt Force damage taken from all falls by 10% as long as you land on your feet. Sound easy enough? 2 PP Metabolic Acceleration (0/2) What? I''m hungry. All Heal-over-Time food bonuses gain a 200% increase in effectiveness in exchange for a 50% decrease in duration. 4 PP Mind and Matter The mind is what separates a body from a corpse. Meditation now recovers Health at the same rate as Willpower and Mana. 2 PP Refreshment Gotta stay hydrated if you want to stay energized. Increases the rate of Willpower and Mana recovery from [Beverages] by 50%. 2 PP Resilient Didn''t feel a thing. Your resistance to Blunt Force damage has grown to the point that you no longer can be stunned or made to flinch from attacks that do no damage. 2 PP Strong Stance Stand strong and face the world. Your resistance to Blunt Force damage has grown to the point that you can now ignore all knockback from attacks that do no damage. 2 PP Understanding of Agony It hurts, doesn''t it? Through first-hand knowledge and a growing appreciation of what it means to feel pain, you are able to cleanse your body of lesser maladies, trading away the essence of your life in exchange for such. 5 PP Intellect Analyze The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. 1 PP Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. 5 PP Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. 2 PP Darkvision Lv Max It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. 1 PP Developed Mind (0/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. 1 PP Focused Control (0/5) Focus often requires stillness... When activated, this perk focuses the mind, reducing mana consumption by 50% for up to 15 seconds at the cost of near-total paralysis. 2 PP Healthy Mind Yeah, you''re¡­ You''re definitely well-adjusted¡­ right? Increases total mana by 10% 2 PP Instinctive Biofeedback (0/10) Something something prana-musculature... 1% of your INT stat is added to your overall health regen rate. 2 PP
"Huh¡­" Greg stared up at one particular item in particular as he slipped away from Lung''s body, the clamoring of what sounded vaguely like either superpowers or explosives - possibly both - being used to clear apart the rubble in the street. He couldn''t help but be thankful that the screens of his system maintained their position relative to him even as he leapt atop a burning rooftop and fell back down to the smoke-filled alley behind it. Dismissing them as he skimmed over them, Greg passed over each screen as he moved through the back-alleys and snuck past the perimeter that had been set up a little over three blocks away. All of a sudden, the blond paused, eyes affixed to the screen as one specific pop-up caught his immediate attention. Quickly, Greg found a hiding spot on the roof of a currently abandoned restaurant, crouched behind a smokestack to hide from the several colorful drones that seemed to be tasked with following after him, and read it again in disbelief, eyes widening slightly. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head, rubbed his eyes and leaned in closer as if his sight was suddenly betraying him. As Greg Veder took a careful moment to read what was in front of him for the third time, even tapping on the screen for more detail, he couldn''t quite help the calm smile that spread across his face. "Well, would you look at that¡­" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
??Age: 15 (and three-quarters!) Title: Dragonbane Knight
Level Experience
Health
Mana
Willpower
STR SPD
VIT INT
WIS CHA (+9) (-90%) [+15]
Stat Points: 53 Perk Points: 17
Cash: $655,700.82
TRAITS Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Peak Human: What is peak human, anyway? (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
PERKS Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Danger Sense (6/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Iron Body I am not built as weakly as you are." +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Surefooted I don''t trip. Swift Learner (2/10) [Ranked Ability] You''re no idiot. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" Warrior''s Breath (1 Will/per 2 seconds)
TITLES Dragon-Blooded Knight [ACTIVE] My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Lucky Bastard +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Ninja-In-Training [ACTIVE] It''s my ninja way!!! Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Squire Training to be a knight, I see?
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 9 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Dash Straight Lv 12 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 4 I call it walking on air. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 16 Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 24 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. (170%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • (775%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Mana Barrier Lv 1 Some kind of force-field! [Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity.] Cost: 50 Mana Pyrokinesis (Basic) Lv 13 Burn, baby, burn! Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
Weapon Charge Lv 18 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? (9 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 28 Parkour! Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 17 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. (34%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 15 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. (7.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. Disarm Lv 6 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. (12%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 8 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. (8%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. (120%) Parry Lv 13 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. (26%) Reflexes Lv 17 DODGE! (85%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 68 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. (51%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 48 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." (48%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 37 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop (27.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 28 All swords are the same. (56%) Taunt Lv 13 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" (26%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. (8%)
Mob 5.16 Mob 5.16 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 21, 2011 12:42 AM The Downtown Coast was silent. Too silent. If he had been in a better mood, that same thought wouldn''t have passed through his mind without eliciting at least a snicker at his own humor. At worst, a full-blown belly laugh. Unfortunately ¨C or very fortunately, depending on who you asked ¨C Greg Veder wasn''t really in any mood to joke right now, especially not without an audience watching or a criminal to mock. Still, the silence was attention-grabbing, simply for the fact that there was nothing to distract his mind from going to places he''d rather it wouldn''t. "Sweetie..." The teenager shook his head, the slight scowl on his face wavering as he took a moment to catch his bearings on an uneven rooftop, his feet nearly skidding on loose siding before Greg was able to bound off into the air once more. Even when leaping tens of yards at a time and bursting across rooftops at roughly thirty-something miles an hour, he barely made any noise. If only Greg had been making noise as he moved, it would have proved a distraction from the distinct lack of loud. Distant and muffled as the explosions, screaming and sirens were, they had faded into indistinguishable noise in the backdrop nearly two hours ago after Greg had crossed over into what was firmly considered ABB territory. The rumble of explosions, panicked civilians, and buildings finally crumbling under the assault of esoteric explosion effects and simple fire were left far behind in the mainly Empire-held Commercial District. All of that was almost completely absent along the Downtown Coast: miles of relatively quiet streets and seemingly empty buildings given what little activity Greg had witnessed so far in the area. Having grown used to the constant din of a city on teetering over the edge these last three days, he couldn''t help but feel somewhat unsettled with the simple lack of it over the last hour or so. Police officers in heavy armor and heavy vans filled the streets in nearly every area of the coast Greg had been through, breaking down doors and dragging out whatever remnants of the ABB they could find. Mostly, they just arrested every Asian male that the BBPD ever suspected of gang-ties to the ABB, regardless of whether they had reasonable proof or not. That meant arresting maybe a third of the area''s Asian males between the ages of 14 and 50. But on this stretch of the Coast, there was none of that: this district was quiet. It was distinctly different from the mass chaos Greg had grown comfortable with. That wasn''t to imply that he missed it in the slightest, though. If anything, the entire city remaining this silent and relatively untouched would be a dream come true. What irked him was how distinct it felt from everything else he had been through. It was almost like¡­ No, no. It was... Greg Veder let out a frustrated breath, descriptions escaping him as he leapt into the air once more. He shook his head furiously as he touched down on another rooftop with almost as silent a landing as when he had first jumped. Greg couldn''t allow these thoughts to slow him down. There was still a lot of work to be done. But... It was that same silence that prickled at him and prompted another sigh, the sound coming out as more of an irritated scoff as he ran across the rooftops of the Downtown Coast. This whole thing just feels... off. It had been long enough since he had left the Commercial District proper behind; long enough that the sky had shifted its coloring from a smoke-tinted orange to the distinct darkness of night ¨C a darkness only assisted further by the entire districts of Brockton Bay still without power in the wake of the fighting. Behind both his silver helm and mask, his eyes flit across the buildings around him, searching in the dark. Greg grit his teeth, the boy letting out a slight grunt as he hit yet another rooftop with a particularly hard landing. He remembered the threats Lung had made, the news replaying that moment over and over again. Without a doubt, that video clip would send their rating sky high whenever they featured it, and would continue to provoke debate and conversations for a good while. Still recognizable as mostly human at the time, tattooed chest bared and dragon-mask snarling, Lung had unexpectedly intruded on a reporter''s broadcast, tearing the microphone from the man''s hand at the same time as an open palm sent the unsuspecting journalist flying with a lazy strike. The reporter had died on impact with the ceiling, and his fallen body cast a macabre backdrop for Lung''s following declaration and demands. Without so much as a word in return, the utterly silent cameramen had followed Lung''s gravely spoken order to keep filming, likely frozen into place by both mind-numbing fear and the simple shock of seeing a murder carried out in front of them so casually. It was with that casual disregard for human life that the dragon-masked gang leader made it known that he had indeed broken free from incarceration and would make those who put him there suffer. And so ¨C with a voice that was oddly calm and measured, considering the circumstances ¨C the Dragon of Kyushu declared that the entirety of Brockton Bay was now at his mercy, and if any of his demands were denied, the city would pay the price in blood. In exchange for the halting of the perioding bombings that terrorized the city, Lung demanded the presence of the parahuman responsible for his incarceration, and the acceptance of a duel to a death. On Live TV, Lung issued his challenge to the "White Knight" who called himself "Prodigy", and to all that would assist the vigilante in denying the demands of the head of one of Brockton Bay''s largest gangs. If Prodigy refused to face him within 24 hours, the city would be annihilated. The challenge had captured Greg''s immediate attention at the time; the thought that Lung considered him a rival worthy of such grand and horrific measures provoked a mixed response. Part of him was horrified at the lengths Lung was willing to go to, part of his was flattered that Lung considered him so dangerous that all of this was warranted, but the vast majority of his being was consumed with righteous fury and the overwhelming desire to inflict pain upon the dragon-man twice that Greg had experienced at the hands of the ABB. Greg wanted Lung to suffer. Of course, in his rush to meet the challenge (mostly consumed by the thoughts of ''Lung!'' and ''Fight-Fight-Fight''), Greg allowed himself to get too riled up to make a proper plan for the other details Lung had divulged during his proclamations. To his credit, Greg remembered that critical point about five minutes before he barged into Coventree Plaza to fight Lung that second time. The ABB Superbomb. While Lung hadn''t used that exact term ¨C simply describing the supposed weapon as "powerful enough to sink half the city into the bay", implying a warhead on par with nuclear weaponry and an EMP that could wipe out the entire North-Eastern seaboard ¨C the news had been kind enough to dub it such. With such an ominous name, it was enough to send a chill down anyone''s spine and the relative silence from the ABB after the fight with Lung hadn''t helped the tension the city felt at all. Lung had threatened to have his people set off the monstrosity of a bomb if Prodigy hadn''t shown up to face him¡­ which was just¡­ Suicidal, really. Rumors had been thrown around that half the heroes in the city had been hunting down said bomb but rumors were rumors and Greg knew he''d have to be the world''s biggest idiot to think the ABB wouldn''t set it off for whatever reason before the capes pounced on them. It was just a matter of time before the chuckleheads felt threatened enough to blow the entire city up with themselves in it. So Greg decided he''d find it first, and then take out Bakuda before she could detonate it out of spite. Freaking psychos¡­ Greg grit his teeth as his legs pumped across another rooftop, barely even touching the ground for more than a few seconds before he was in the air again, tattered blue cape flaring out behind him. Still can''t believe they went this far. Images from the last few days flitted through his thoughts; the mass destruction, his own pain and suffering... the horror stories of so many others... all of them overwhelming proof that the ABB were nothing but monsters that had finally gone off the deep end. He had seen evidence of unconscionable malice and evil; tinkertech bombs being shoved inside the heads of civilians, hiding them amongst other people and then¡­ The blond grimaced again as a memory from the night before surfaced unbidden. He had been perched on a ledge near Downtown, taking a short moment to watch as police officers did their best to herd a small crowd of directionless and half-panicked people into large shuttles to bus them out of the Commercial District as Lung''s announcement had caused a new wave of panic. The buses were an uncommon sight for Brockton Bay; they were intended for mass emergencies like Endbringer attacks where large amounts of traffic would be detrimental to an effective evacuation plan. Content that no one had been in danger and he didn''t need to wait any longer, Greg had turned back to keep rushing towards Lung, hopeful that at least some people would be kept safe from the chaos. Said hope had been quickly ripped away from him as a sound like screaming wind and tearing flesh magnified through a loudspeaker drove itself into his ears amid renewed panic, screaming, and the clamor of a human stampede. Greg had been spared the worst of it, thankfully, having not actually been looking down the moment it happened. Still, the aftermath was¡­ haunting. What that bomb had done was just unnaturalin every sense of the word. Everyone on the bus where the bomb had gone off had started convulsing, flesh warping as they turned into hideous monstrosities before attacking each other in maddened frenzy, tearing each other apart in consumptive fury until there was only one left¡­ and then the sole monstrous survivor exploded, splattering the street with flesh that began to decay in a matter of seconds. A few minutes later, all that gore that had drenched the scene was gone, and all that was left was a ruined bus stop, and the scattered remnants of people''s belongings. Just looking at it from a distance was enough to turn his stomach and Greg didn''t doubt that if he had been closer, he''d be among those unable to hold back the contents of their stomach. He found it extremely doubtful that what he''d witnessed was in any way an isolated case. Greg Veder fought the urge to shudder, quickly pushing the memory back and away as he bounded off again. Still¡­ why now? That was a good question, really, and one that had been on his mind for a bit. It hadn''t made sense to Greg even on the very first day. Why now, especially? The ABB had been around for over a literal decade and while they had done plenty of bad shit, terrorism on this scale wasn''t something anyone would ever have expected from them. Oni Lee was one thing but¡­ Even Oni Lee would never have done something like this without Lung telling him to. If there was something obvious about Oni Lee from the beginning, he was clearly Lung''s right-hand man. Silent as the grave and a far better fighter than he was a thinker, the guy was definitely not one to make any steps on his own. Especially not with Lung gone¡­ Fuck. Greg couldn''t help but suddenly wince, his current line of thought already beginning to bother him. He had entertained the idea before but now he had to face it head-on and he didn''t like it at all. With Lung in charge¡­ Bakuda took over. He winced again as he landed atop the roof of a warehouse that had seen better days, eyes flicking off to the right as he scanned his environment for a specific landmark. With Lung in charge, the ABB had no reason to ever use any Tinker bombs. At least, not like this. If I''d never have fought Lung in the first place, none of this would have ever happened. Nobody else would have taken over and¡­ Still paused on the warehouse rooftop, Greg unclenched his gauntleted hands and stared up into the smoky night sky. He did his best to breathe as evenly as possible, not at all helping himself by keeping his teeth gritted but he kept on regardless. Get your head together, man, drawled a voice in his head that sounded far too much like Sparky. Feel sad for yourself on your own time. Greg shook his head again, fighting the urge to retort at the voice in his own head for several reasons; least of all that he wasn''t quite that crazy yet. The blond glanced over his shoulder to scope out the area again. He nodded to himself as his eyes flicked across both sides of the empty street, raising a hand in front of himself with a single word already on his lips. "Property." It left his mouth in a barely vocalized mutter, the last syllable barely out before a translucent blue window flickered to life in the air. The information it displayed was little, several words that Greg had already seen several times before within the last hour.
ABB Holdings (Owned) [General Storage] [Safe Houses] [Residential] [Garages]
Yeah. Apparently, that was a thing. He had holdings now. Holdings that once belonged directly to Lung. Either that or close enough that they were considered the man''s property, regardless. Looking at the panel again, Greg tilted his palm until the screen resting on it hung right side up and pushed outwards, the blue box hanging in the air with nothing to support it. didn''t even blink as his eyes scanned the list in front of him. [General Storage] His finger tapped the keyword, screen rippling as the pointer digit disturbed it''s surface before everything on it flickered and vanished only for a longer list to take its place, roughly two dozen names contained within the box of text. Greg''s expression didn''t change as he read down the list again, the box of text scrolling down automatically every time his eyes neared the bottom of the screen''s borders. There. The screen stopped it''s automatic scroll jarringly quickly as it''s sole reader''s eyes focused on a single line of text. "Inventory." Glittering blue light coalesced in the center of his gauntleted palm, a scrap of wrinkled paper appearing as the motes faded away. Sparing it a glance before glancing back at the line on the screen in front of him, the teenager''s eyes narrowed for a second before he finally seemed to accept what he saw. Dismissing the text-filled sheet of printer paper with another dismissive "Inventory", Greg took another moment to scope out his surroundings, wanting to be sure he had come to the right place. Nothing but older buildings and warehouses that had seen better days surrounded him, this side of the Downtown Coast not exactly known for being a thriving business center. Still, that didn''t really mean much to him, Greg still taking time to glance at the street signs he could make out from the meager illumination provided by street lights. Arch Row and¡­ Kings Route¡­ He glanced back at the building on the other side of the street and fixed his gaze on the large green and white "Super Dollar" sign lit brightly from behind, the black-lettered "Self-Storage" just below it.
Discovered Super Dollar Self Storage [ 56/65 Locations Undiscovered ]
The new screen flickered to life in front of him, not even eliciting a surprised blink from Greg as he stared up at it. After all, this was the fourth time he had seen the thing. The good news was that he could now be sure he knew where he was ¨C or at least, where he was supposed to be. He couldn''t afford to waste time searching the wrong buildings. The bad news... well, if this wasn''t the place, he still had loads of other properties to look through. Not quite as many as sixty, though. The papers that Lung''s former restaurant manager had handed off to him had come in handy there, allowing Greg to cross-reference what buildings were still in regular use by the ABB ¨C specifically which ones were basically paper-thin fronts for heavy gang activity. This one, this Super Dollar, wasn''t anywhere near the heaviest but it was close enough to another place Greg had just finished scouring that he didn''t consider it a waste of time to search through it the only way he could. In fact¡­ He stepped forward calmly, straightening his body as he walked off the roof without a moment''s hesitation. All two hundred pounds of him dropped onto the sidewalk below as straight as an arrow, Greg barely even flinching from the slight jarring pain in his lower body that was the impact. Ignoring the red numbers popping up in the edges of his vision ¨C magnitudes so small that he''d recover them in under half a minute, if that ¨C he began to stride across the street, almost daring anyone who was on the lookout to react to the obvious cape in semi-mangled armor making their way over to the ABB property. Just try it, the armored cape thought to himself, staring up at the few windows the building possessed, hoping to spot someone looking out. Make it easy for me, why don''t you? Unfortunately, no one bothered to speed the process up and, in no time at all, Greg found himself coming to a stop in front of a set of locked glass double doors. He allowed himself a moment to gaze inside, blue eyes narrowing as he spotted nothing of note inside the somewhat unkempt lobby; the area was dark and empty. It''s never easy, he grumbled to himself, a muttered "Inventory" on his lips again. Well¡­ He raised a hand up, the large red-and-green key with a silver dragon serving as the key ring sat on his palm. I guess I can''t say ''never''.
ABB Master Key A special item representing Lung''s ironclad control over what some would term his Hoard, this key allows access to all properties once belonging to or controlled by the dragon himself, or any considered under the actual ownership of the ABB.
Despite not looking at all like it should fit ¨C the ABB Master Key was at least twice as large as the lock''s regular-sized keyhole, maybe more ¨C the key somehow slid in without a problem as it had done eight times before. Quickly pocketing the skeleton key, Greg pulled open one of the double doors and stepped inside, a smile appearing on his face as his eyes began to adjust to the dim lighting of the lobby. The lobby-space being rather unkempt was obvious enough: there was an accumulation of dust on the floor and across several surfaces that would not have been there if this place had actually been any kind of reputable or regularly-used business. But that was understandable for a storage business - Greg figured people don''t visit storage facilities too often, so the employees likely got lazy with the cleaning. But what made him smile had little to do with the dust itself but far more to do with what the dust showed him. Footsteps. Footsteps breaking up large areas of the dusty floor and leaving their own trails, leading past the front desk and deeper into the building. People had been here recently. A bunch of footsteps. Different shapes, sizes, depths, so a lot of people have been through here. They look recent too... Please let this be the right place. He wasn''t sure who he was begging, exactly, but he hoped they were listening. Eyes glinting with barely restrained eagerness, Greg strode forward again, following the path of footsteps as they led towards a set of doors on the other side of the wall just behind the front desk. His eyes flickered across each one, noting that the majority of the trail led to the largest and thickest door, which also had a security camera trained on it and the hallway leading up to it, the red light signaling it was on and still working. A metal grate blocked the only window firmly in the middle of the heavy door with dual keypads on either side, the devices looking well-kept and brand new compared to the rest of the building. Keypads? Two keypads? Greg paused in front of the door, smile fading quickly as an unrestrained grimace warped his expression from a violent eagerness to simple annoyance. Really? Was one not enough security for this place? What could be that important they''d need two of ''em for a single door in a place this out of the way? Intellectually, Greg realized the keypads were no real obstacle to him. Not really, at least. After all, he had aerokinesis at his disposal, after all, and there was very little a pressurized blast of air couldn''t bust through, given enough tries. He also had his pyrokinesis recently enhanced by his bout with Lung and melting the door might have been easier, really, than trying to blast it open with pressurized air. He even had a sword that made cutting through metal doable as long as you had the strength and momentum to keep the blade going. Hell, the Master Key might have even managed to work on the keypad¡­ somehow. There were several options at his disposal and a great many that flickered through his thoughts as he glared at the dual backlit keypads and the heavily locked door and it''s metal bracings. Several options, each one better than the last¡­ "Sweetie¡­" One blue eye twitched. Of course, there''s a keypad. Another twitch. Two of them! Why wouldn''t there be? His hands tightened into fists. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His chest rose as he took in a deep breath through his nose, rational thought and higher problem-solving functions giving way to teenage emotional reactions and simple petulance mixed with an already heightened level of anger. Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck this. In a moment of annoyance and a deep-seated feeling of something that could only be described as the emotional equivalent of the word "Fuck!", Greg Veder let out a scream at the very top of his lungs and drop-kicked the primary obstacle in his way with as much force as his now-brightly glowing body could muster in a singular moment of rage¡­ A sudden rattling impact seemed to rock the entire building''s first floor as a deafening metal screech accompanied it, Greg Veder''s body a battering ram of frustration as the soles of his feet met the door. The steel door gave in almost immediately under the sudden attack, reinforced couplings and hinges giving way to allow the once-door to become a missile. Panting somewhat as he dropped to the ground, more from frustration than actual exhaustion, the blond glanced up just in time to see the hefty door embed itself into a lime-green, steel roll-up door, denting it and the wall around it from the force of its crash after nearly clipping several men in its path as they dove out of the way of the massive flying door. "Shit!" Several simultaneous screams rang out, along with other curses of other types and from other languages hitting Greg''s ears as he strode into the large warehouse-like space, identical steel roll-up doors ¨C all painted the same ugly lime color ¨C lining the blocks of concrete that filled the room. Several pairs of eyes traced back to the direction the door had flown from, before those eyes grew wide as they spotted a pair of blue orbs staring at them with a reignited eagerness. Greg knew he still looked a mess; his costume was still on the mend from the incredible amount of damage Lung had put it through. It had been far worse several hours ago ¨C barely in one piece as it fed on Greg''s Willpower to put itself back together after the battle. Every inch of him had been marred with soot and blood before he had showered in the buff with a busted fire hydrant before washing the gunk off his armor. Well, that was after he had taken the time to retrieve the people from the wreck of a car that had crashed into said hydrant and called for an ambulance to help them out. His costume had only gotten stained again minutes later when a keyed-up police officer managed to wing his shoulder with several nervous shots, the idiot. He wasn''t much better now as the metal bits of his armor seemed to take priority in their recovery when repairing itself with the [Dragon Blood''s Gift] Perk. With how sporadically Greg had used his Will, not viewing the expenditure as necessary as his own physical ability along with his aerokinesis did the job just fine, the barely present cloth parts of his costume were still marred with the stains of battle. Yet blood-stained, blackened metal and all, he likely posed a threatening image to the gathered ABB. When they caught sight of him, a few froze in shock, and those who had narrowly evaded getting crushed by the flying metal door quailed at the presence of the vigilante. The rest ¨C a number quickly began to increase as several more ABB suddenly began to trickle in from around the corner and the rest of the maze-like space of the storage facility ¨C only stood ready and waiting, a scant few already armed with guns. Others handed out different weapons from an open janitor''s closet that appeared to be nothing but an armory for melee weapons; nailed bats, machetes, hatchets, knives, swords¡­ He let them arm themselves, reveling in the fact that none of them panicked and did something stupid like attacking him on their own, and that none of their eyes left Greg as he waited for the gangsters to grip their weapons tight in trembling hands. The fear felt good, that he couldn''t deny, but he wasn''t here for them, only what they knew. For some reason, this part of the city was almost empty of ABB by now and for so many of them to be here, in an out-of-the-way storage facility, and so heavily armed... Greg stood there, the picture of a smiling knight in his argent armor, gauntleted hands at his side as he stared down a mob of ABB, men armed with enough weapons to make them intimidating to almost any cape all on their own. Interestingly enough, very few guns. And here I was thinking this would be hard. The small smile that rose on Greg''s face wasn''t from any real happiness, simply an inability to repress his eagerness when he realized he was finally on the right track after eight false leads across this part of the city. "Anyone of you mind telling me where I can find a Bakuda? I''ve got some important news to deliver. Someone''s hunting him down. That someone, if you couldn''t guess... is me." The crowd went oddly still, several of the men taking great pains not to even twitch as they kept their attention focused on Greg. Not all of them managed the same, though. Greg''s eyes narrowed as he spotted several of the more nervous men''s gazes flit far down the hall, looking at one of the very last storage units from them for a second before quickly shifting back to him, sweat already forming on their brows despite the AC running full blast within the storage facility. Unit 54, huh? Greg put that out of his mind for a moment as he stared back at the mob of ABB guarding the facility. No matter what was behind that door, he still had something to take care of first. The quicker he got that over with, the sooner he could deal with everything else. Fight time. Fun. His gauntlets creaked as he formed both hands into fists, shifting into a pose as he took a step forward. "I''m only gonna say this once so listen close; the first one that runs away, will not get a beating. I won''t break your arm, I won''t shatter your jaw, I won''t crack your ribs and I certainly won''t use your own weapon on you. We clear?"
Intimidation Lvl Up! 8¡ú10
He saw one of the gangbangers flinch almost immediately; the reedy-looking guy was likely not even in his twenties and almost dropped his bat as he made to move. But another grabbed hold of him, gripping his arm tight and forcing him to stay put as the crowd reasserted their positions, and arrayed themselves against the knight-like Cape. A moment later, someone else made to run. Only, it was towards Greg, with the entire mob either beside or behind the vanguard as they charged. The rush was pathetic and pitiful; a third of the men nearly fell over themselves in the uncoordinated stampede. Their voices were raised; nearly all of them screaming to give themselves whatever encouragement they needed or in the hopes that it would intimidate him somehow. While the first objective may have been successful, the latter certainly wasn''t. Greg shrugged and surged into the crowd, his arms and legs already a blur. He was a whirlwind of brutality darting from target to target, several of them going down within the span of a few seconds; a tangled, screaming heap of limbs. Most of the mob broke apart as the first ten went down in as many seconds, shattering the resolve of those few who weren''t pressing the attack with berserker-like desperation. He didn''t let them get far, launching himself at their open backs as they tried to scramble away, and threw punches and kicks that sent them sprawling with sprained limbs, if not shattered bones, from the sheer force of them. There was very little hesitation in his moves despite Greg pulling his punches.
+ 400 XP (4) + 300 XP (5) + 375 XP (3) + 425 XP (2)
Beginner Combat Lvl Up! 17 ¡ú 18
Even holding back, Greg knew for a fact that he was slower than he could have been. The twinges of pain in his torso with every movement he made reminded him that the cracked ribs beneath his armor had yet to fully heal. Despite that, he was still nigh-untouchable compared to the panicked, terrified gangsters swinging wildly at him. Weak. He did his best to avoid their heads, out of simple preference to not kill any more gangbangers by accident with his superhuman strength. Instead, he settled for attacking their limbs and center mass where he could hit them a bit harder without risk of an unintended kill, even when pulling his punches.
+ 375 XP (4) + 275 XP (5)
That didn''t mean a few noses, teeth and lips didn''t end up as unintended casualties in the process, though. All he could do was try when it came down to it and it wasn''t his fault when criminals made his job much harder than it needed to be. Groans of pain only urged Greg to move faster through the crowd, stifling the unpleasantness even as his ribs made their fragile state clear to him with every movement. The blows that did manage to land on him were almost negligible coming from the frightened and undisciplined gang members. Greg barely even felt their blows as he countered with as much force as he felt was necessary.
+ 250 XP + 300 XP (4) + 425 XP (2)
A kick to his side was met with a thrusting elbow to the kneecap, snapping the leg back with a glorious splintering noise accompanied by a screaming crescendo as the attacker smashed his head against a wall in his thrashing. Another was introduced to the sight of his own bones as fragments of them escaped his hand when Greg smashed his fist into the hand clenched around a spiked baseball bat. Hands fumbling to reload guns had their fingers snapped and heads smashed into one another. A man swinging a hatchet so wildly he almost took out his ally''s head with the backswing keeled over and emptied his stomach on the ground as a fist buried into his gut. On and on they came. Still, he felt like he did enough at the end of it all ¨C enough to keep them from moving, whether from pain, unconsciousness, or a lack of functioning extremities; the end result was the same.
+ 500 XP (3) + 425 XP (2) + 375 XP (5) + 300 XP (4)
Two minutes passed and Greg eventually found himself facing a lone ABB as all the others lay crumpled around him. He was that same reedy, young man from before. The gangbanger looked a little older than Greg but was nearly of the same height, wielding a bat in trembling arms. Greg blinked at the guy, actual confusion flickering across his face, before he finally spoke up. "What are you still doing here?" Said confusion was mirrored and magnified on the face of the gangster. "I¡­ I-I-I¡­ wha¡­?" "I said the first person that runs away, not the first person that escapes," Greg took another step closer, cloth starting to form around his torso as his costume continued its recovery. "Why are you still here?" The man dropped the bat and immediately tried to dash away, only to freeze as cold metal gripped his shoulder tight, eliciting a whimper as it seemed to grind at his bones. Inhuman strength held him back and turned him around to stare into eyes that were far too intense for the gangster''s will to bear meeting. But he could do nothing but stare into Greg''s eyes, and quiver in terror. "When you get where you''re going¡­ tell your friends. Tell everyone you meet. Everyone that was ever part of this. The ABB is dead. If not right now, then tonight for sure. Tell them when they see me coming? When they hear I''m around?" Greg leaned in slightly. The man flinched at his approach but making no other move, trying not to meet Greg''s eyes but unable to look away. "RUN. Otherwise..." Greg tilted his head towards the groaning or unconscious men surrounding them. "Clear?"
Intimidation Lvl Up! 10¡ú11
"C-c-clear." "Good." He tilted his head in the direction of the door, gesturing with a nod as he let go of the man''s shoulder. "Go." The man was shaking, but nodded anyways and began to bolt, but paused half-way down the hall, stopping before the end of the hold in the wall. From his body language, Greg could tell that he wanted to be anywhere but here, but something kept him rooted to the spot, emotions warring over the mans'' face. Frowning, Greg tightened his fist, just in case the gangbanger thought to attack again, but instead the man met his eyes. Terror mixed with resolve flashed through the man''s muddy brown eyes, confusing Greg before they glanced at a door several yards down from where they stood. Greg followed his gaze to identify the door ¨C it was different from where the others had glanced before, but the gangbanger nodded at it intently. Greg turned back to him, a question on his lips, but he never got the chance. The man didn''t hesitate for a second more, quickly booking it with a speed many track coaches would have applauded. Greg watched him run out the hole in the wall that had once been a door, not even entertaining the thought of stopping him. Even if he needed to catch the guy, he doubted someone that looked like he was on the verge of passing out would get all that far in the first place. Instead, the blond glanced down at the men on the floor, several of them clearly still conscious but unable or unwilling to move as he stared them down. He stepped closer to those who felt confident enough to not even bother to faking unconsciousness in favor of bawling in pain or spewing profanities at him in a multitude of languages, kneeling down next to each one, who immediately pled for mercy at the look in his eyes, and delivered quick strikes to their faces, leaving them insensate and unconscious. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Standing as the last of them was knocked out, red liquid dripping from his fists, the young cape suddenly paused with confusion clear on his face. Without the noises coming from the gangbangers, he could hear other odd sounds within the facility. Are those¡­ rats? An odd shuffling sound that seemed to come from within the walls and a few stilted, high-pitched noises drew his mind to the idea but even as he thought it, he knew that it couldn''t be something like that. He turned his gaze to the nearest storage unit and took a few steps closer to it, a familiar frown settling over his face. It didn''t take long before he paused mid-step, almost frozen in place as he heard noises that certainly did not fit what he had been expecting; shuddering breaths, frightened whispers, trembling sobs. All noises that had managed to go unheard under the chaos from before, but now¡­ Greg took an unconscious step back, somewhat confused despite himself the longer he stared at the door to Unit 011. A moment later, he steeled himself and crouched down next to the door, grabbing the simple padlock. His hand lit up with the distinct brightness of his Willpower applied as [Reinforcement], sloppy as it was in his hastiness, and with a harsh twist the lock broke apart in Greg''s hands. Tossing the mangled metal aside, the teenager gripped the door handle again and yanked it upwards, exposing the contents of the storage unit and forcing Greg to stumble back as he was faced with something totally unexpected. He found himself, once again, with multiple pairs of shocked and frightened eyes on him. This time, however, his expression was much the same as theirs; Greg was unable to do much more than stare back at the small crowd of frightened women with his mouth half-open, gaping like a fish. The entire storage unit was packed, over a dozen women and young girls huddled along the back wall of the cramped room and several more clutching each other as they sat atop worn, stained mattresses resting on the bare floor. All of them were dressed in the barest of clothing ¨C barely anything more than a thin, white t-shirt in addition to panties and for a few, a pair of threadbare socks ¨C that were rather heavily stained. The state of these womens'' attire likely wasn''t even worth a thought to their captors but told Greg plenty about how long these women had been here. All of them drew tighter into themselves as they took in the sight of him, his stained armor and ratty cloth seemed to inspire far more fear in them than their appearance inspired horror in him. It was like a knife to the heart as he watched some women try to scramble away from him even with the wall preventing them from going any further. Others sobbed louder, the younger ones bawling like the teenage girls and children that they were, while a third group ¨C this one composed mostly of young women likely in their twenties ¨C did nothing more than shut their eyes tightly before opening them again, these ones only shrinking in on themselves as if resigned to what they were expecting. All of them looked at him with nothing but the utmost fear in their eyes.
Intimidation Lvl Up! 11¡ú12
No. No. No... He felt like throwing up, his eyes widening even further as he stared down at his clenched fists as if just now realizing what he was wearing. The blood on his gauntlets was fresh, adding a grim cherry on top of the ghoulish image he likely cut to the already traumatised girls, caged like rats¡­ Noooo... Another odd pain passed through his chest ¨C something like nausea, sadness and anger, all mixed together in a confusing cocktail that throbbed in his heart ¨C as Greg took it all in with a rapidly paling face, the sobs and fearful whispers suddenly seeming to come from all sides. Wide blue eyes flickered from side to side, panic and disgust warring with the oppressive calm that he was used to, and Greg suddenly realized that the other sounds were not simply his imagination. His mouth still hung half-open, bottom lip trembling somewhat as he stared around the hallway, the number of storage units on this floor alone filling him with deep dread and loathing, both in equal parts. Even more, he could feel his blood boiling, the desire to break something or hurt someone in retribution warring with the pit of disgust he felt in his stomach. God, no. He glanced down at his now open palms, argent metal splattered with smeared red. I¡­ No, I¡­ I¡­ He couldn''t help the thought that came next, the boiling anger suddenly tamped down by his Gamer''s Mind and shifted into something far colder. Lung¡­ this is all Lung. He did this. They did this¡­ His blood ran cold as he stared at the poorly dressed girls huddled together. His hands clenched into fists before loosening again as he forced himself to breathe under the imagined weight of dozens upon dozens of kidnapped girls in this building alone. They''ve been doing this for years even¡­ An unintended gasp of air left him as he realized just how many years the ABB had been around and just how many reports of missing girls he could remember this year alone. Reports and news updates that he''d always overlooked because he had other things on his mind. But when faced with the sight of all these women, and knowing there were more in the other storage units, and remembering how callously he''d ignored all those missing person reports and promptly forgot he''d ever seen them because they were so common in this city, but never his problem before... I should have killed him. I¡­ I¡­ I... [Acute Stress Disorder negated by Gamer''s Mind] Greg shuddered, the teenager feeling another wave of calm wash over him as he found his thoughts suddenly making sense again. He closed his eyes, letting out a long exhale as he felt his emotions center themselves. Unclenching both hands from where they hung at his sides, Greg raised them up to his chest, palms open and facing outwards in an attempt to look as harmless as he could. ¡­ It didn''t seem to work. The blond gulped, unsure of what to do in a situation quite like this. What could he do? What could he say? What do you say to people who were kidnapped by gangsters to be used and treated like property? Come on, dummy. You''re a hero. Say something a hero would say. Make them feel better, genius! That voice again; the one that sounded so much like Sparky rattled off advice that Greg couldn''t help but agree nodded to himself, and said the first thing that came to mind. "...How we doing?" He couldn''t help the wince that left him the instant the words left his lips, the tiny voice that was his common sense suddenly given a microphone to berate him for such a dumb statement. He closed both eyes and let out a long breath, opening them a moment later to face the girls again, a few of them starting to look more confused than scared. Granted, the fear hadn''t exactly disappeared but at least they looked less likely to scream if he stepped closer. Progress. Let''s keep this going. "I mean¡­ Greetings, citizens," he began again, dropping to one knee with a hand over his heart and the other stretched out with an open palm. The fearful flinches and audible whimper from the young girls nearest him sent another pang of dismay through him but he managed to soldier on without letting the smile fall from his face. "I am known throughout the land as Sir Prodigy, and I¡­ I mean, I..." He swallowed thickly, the sounds of fearful whimpers constantly chipping away at the false bravado he tried to keep up. "Sorry, I¡­ uh.." His fake accent slipped as he spoke again, words coming out in a rushed stumble. "Look, sorry it took me so long to find you but umm¡­ I''m¡­" His words didn''t seem to help the situation in the slightest, the sides of his mouth twitching from trying to maintain a cheerful smile, but feigning sincerity was growing ever harder by the second. "I¡­ um¡­" He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a dip in the confidence that had allowed him to get the words out earlier. "I know that it took me a while to get here but don''t worry. Seriously, don''t worry, I''m one of the good-" Greg blinked suddenly, the words on his tongue vanishing entirely as he felt a soft pressure suddenly impact his midsection, and press on his injured ribs. He blinked again as he glanced down to the sight of a girl at most eleven years old hugging him tightly. Her face was pressed tight against his chestplate, but Greg could tell by the shaking of her shoulders alone that she was in tears. Oh. He glanced up at the rest of the huddled girls, unsure of what to do as they continued to watch him fearfully. Okay¡­ Greg raised a single hand, to the visible trepidation of the captive women and girls around him, only to cautiously lower it down again, softly patting the back of the girl still crying into his chest. "Okay. It''s oka-" The words once again died on his tongue, Greg blinking in surprise as he spotted another young-looking girl slowly begin to approach him. He tried not to flinch as he watched the preteen make her way over to him. The pit in his stomach grew as the implications of her apparent age, the bruises visible on her skin and limp in her step told a story he''d rather not think about but couldn''t stop his heart from realizing. Watery brown eyes stared at him from a face that was shedding most of its baby fat and Greg found himself desperately hoping that she didn''t mimic the actions of the first girl. One crying little girl was already more than he felt comfortable with. Two was asking far too much. Thankfully, she didn''t burst into tears or rush in to bury her face into his chest, not that there was space. Instead, she made her way over to him in a series of cautious, uncertain steps, simply for the purpose of grabbing hold of his unoccupied hand. Greg simply stared as she held onto it tight as she could with her feeble fingers, barely showing discomfort from the sensation of the cold, hard material against her bare skin. After a few seconds of uncertain stares between the both of them, Greg felt a different sort of queasiness as she gave him a weak smile. "Ar¡­ are you a hero?" The smile that slowly pulled at the sides of his mouth was far more sincere than Greg expected himself capable of, but he didn''t fight it in the slightest. The laugh on his lips was more genuine than he had felt in a while. "...What gave it away?"
CHA + 1
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C So many¡­ Greg couldn''t help that simple thought as he made his way down the hallway, breaking apart lock after lock and opening one door after another. The hallway was long, Greg noted, and ran nearly the entire length of the building on its own. The doors numbered well into the double digits and behind each one wasn''t anything he''d realistically call a welcome sight. So many¡­ The girls numbered over a hundred now and that number grew each time he opened another lime green door. While some were empty of people ¨C guns, weapons, food, exotic herbs, various spices, medicine, some furniture, and other supplies were more plentiful, and one unit had a surprising collection of Asian antiques; all of which Greg claimed and put into his Inventory ¨C most storage units held at least four or five of them, a collection of terrified women and girls ranging from young women to preteens and a (thankfully) very small number even younger than that, along with the occasional older woman whose presence here baffled him. He didn''t question it, though, not having the time nor the inclination. Each time he opened those doors, he was faced with fearful gazes and watery eyes but, thankfully, the ever-growing crowd of girls behind him did a great deal in easing their fears as the girls reassured one another.
CHA + 2
Still, there were some that couldn''t be won over by smiles. A few of them, mainly from the later units, had been better dressed ¨C with actual bottoms and shoes, for one ¨C and all of them distinctly older than most of the ones that Greg had rescued earlier on; the fear in their eyes was almost nonexistent compared to the unhesitant suspicion Greg couldn''t help but notice. There had been a few grateful enough or trusting to offer Greg a smile or a thank you but none of them bothered to get within ten feet of him, content with hiding within the crowd or at the very back of the pack and away from his gaze. Looking at them gave Greg the feeling that they were hardened by some horror¡­ grizzled, almost, with an edge to them that he could only compare to the ABB members that had tried to intimidate him with their gazes at the beginning of this whole mess. They seemed like the ones who had been kept prisoner the longest, and had suffered the greatest, but hadn''t broken somehow. Even so, from the few sparse glances he got from them, Greg couldn''t help but feel that with the distinct hate toward him in their eyes, he doubted they saw much difference between him and the ABB that had abused them for so long. He was a man, after all. He couldn''t blame them. Not really. After what they had been through, he couldn''t imagine begrudging them their cautiousness nor their suspicion simply because their glares made him feel uncomfortable. All he needed to worry about was how he was going to get all of them to the hospital or the police or¡­ or¡­ anyone at all who could help them. That''s gonna be the hardest part of all of this. He glanced over at the crowd at his back, hundreds of feminine faces ranging from the late single digits to older twenties crowding the space within the hallway. Some kept to the very back, all the way over by the hole in the wall that once sported a door, and others not even leaving the enclosure of their storage unit; still filled with fear at the sight of the ABB unconscious on the ground. Ughh¡­ what am I gonna do with those? Greg shook his head to push the thought away from him andturned his gaze toward the unit marked Unit 54, the last one in this long stretch of hallway. His fingers twitched as he stared at the faded white lettering on the lime green door, hoping that this one would actually give him a decent lead towards finding this "Bakuda". After all, this door was the same one that several ABB had unintentionally glanced toward when he had mentioned Bakuda by name earlier. If that hadn''t been suspicious enough, the fact that, unlike all the other practically identical sliding-doors Greg could see around him, the door to Unit 54 was the only one not locked from the outside warranted his attentions. He stretched out his arm toward the door handle, already in the middle of crouching downwards before he found himself pausing. He drew his hand back a bit, disquiet tugging his mouth down into a slight frown. There it was again ¨C the faint tingle down his spine: Danger Sense telling him to be careful. The only other door that had made him feel a similar tingle had been Unit 31, the same one that the last ABB had glanced towards before taking off like the devil was after him. The look in his eyes had been odd enough for someone so clearly terrified, that Greg hadn''t understood why the man had done so. At first, he''d suspected that the door that man had nodded to was just his way to hint that Greg should open the storage units, and that Unit 31 was not any different from the other units keeping these women captive. But when his instincts made him cautious about opening the door, Greg had been secretly elated, thinking he had found another danger to overcome, one that might lead to more clues on how to find Bakuda. Instead, he had to keep the disappointment off his face when he finally did open the door, and instead found it was just another storage unit full of cautious, suspicious women ¨C no Tinker psycho in sight. That had been disappointing, yes, but Greg couldn''t help but hope that this would be somewhat different. Still¡­ he doubted that this would really be what he was looking for. He had made plenty of noise before now and over a hundred people, no matter how well they tried, couldn''t exactly keep quiet without express instruction to do so ¨C especially when a good chunk of them were definitely younger than him. So if there was someone behind this door, or some danger and threat that his Danger Sense was warning him about, then he''d have to be very careful about how he handled it. So he requested the women to give him plenty of room, just in case, before he had reached down again, and gripped the handle to Unit 54''s sliding door. There it was again. The tingle down his spine... Greg frowned again, steeling himself to go through with it, about to jerk the door open only to freeze as he felt a sharp shudder of trepidation make its way down his back; the origin point being the base of his neck. Blue eyes widened as he heard multiple frightened screams from behind him along with something else that hung on the edge of familiarity, an inaudible voice at the back of his mind screaming at him to move. The blond spun around, freezing in mid-dodge as he stared at one of the older women he had saved ¨C one wearing nothing but a camo bikini as a top along with more tattoos than he could count ¨C pointing a gun at him at point-blank range as several dozen girls screamed their lungs out, scrambling for safety. His eyes widened even further as the physical slap of sound that was a gunshot rang out and Greg felt far too slow in that single moment.
¨C178 [Critical Hit] Debuff: Bleeding (Critical) ¨C 2 Hours Debuff: Cervical Mutilation (Severe) - 3 Hours
+ 475 XP VIT + 1
Fu- He stumbled back as a shock of pain rippled through his system, one hand clutching at the sucking wound at the side of his neck as the other swung instinctively. A compressed blast of air caught the shooter in the chest, launching her back with the force of a professional football player''s tackle, gun skittering from her hand onto the concrete floor. Forcing himself to keep his teeth gritted as a mob of screaming women and girls parted like the Red Sea, Greg reacted before his shooter hit the wall, irises flashing blue as he did his best not to bite his tongue in the wake of fresh pain. F-fuck! [Observe!] [Observe!] Fuckin'' [Observe] already!
Veronika Lee Lv 13 ABB Big Sister HP: 95/180 Veronika was born into shit so she never expected much else. The youngest of four children, her earliest memories were of screaming. It wasn''t too long before she joined the ABB alongside two of her older brothers, beating the shit out of any thug boy who thought they could touch her. Veronika worked her way up within the ABB to a relatively trusted position using her uncanny marksmanship skills. Veronika has broken wrists, shattered jaws and put more bullets in people''s heads than she could bother to count. She''s done enough for the ABB to consider it her family, and she''d rather die than let it go under without a fight.
ABB Big Sister? F- Greg hissed in pain as his eyes flitted across the frightened crowd, searching for another possible attacker as he spammed the one skill he had for getting said information.
Courtney Finch Lv 6 Student Kinsey Lewis Lv 7 Student Gracelyn March Lv 7 College Student Heidi Lee Lv 6 Lisa Mei Lv 7 Amy Shen Lv 6
The names began to blur into each other, as he spammed the Skill. He didn''t bother reading the details, just dismissing each blue pop-up, one after another. He ignored the girls around his age or below as he searched the crowd of panicking women for another name in blood red hiding within the sea of blue.
Sakura Aihara Lv 7 Sarah Payne Lv 6 Katelyn Ware Lv¨C Alice Lawburton Lv¨C Haruka I¨C Chin Soo-Ky¨C Cai Shu¨C Tao Z¨C Mei Sa¨C Lisa Osa¨C Dana P¨C Jasmine Em¨C Kaeja B¨C Grace Sto¨C Caitlyn B¨C Khiev C¨C Jen Srey¨C Emilynn B¨C Cecilia T¨C Ayako O¨C Tiffany Kim Lvl 10 ABB Little Sister
Greg froze, eyes narrowing as he spotted one; a woman on the cusp of her twenties in a ratty leather jacket and a ripped-up short skirt doing her very best to ignore Greg''s gaze. The cape didn''t make a move yet even as he stared daggers at the woman, his eyes already flicking past her as he tried to scope out more potential threats hidden within the crowd.
Amber Baker Sammie Chun Lvl 9 ABB Stalker
Another? He felt himself tense at the sight, blood suddenly spurting in greater amounts from around the vice grip he kept on his bullet wound. The red numbers and names in his vision filling him with nearly as much rage as the pain he felt with every heartbeat.
Reina Nakamura Amanda Jiang ABB Little Sister Janie Burton Yuka Kasen ABB Little Sister Akiko Sakai ABB Big Sister Jennifer Sato Lvl 25 Queen Explosion Murder
Almost every other enemy he had locked onto seemed to vanish from his sight as his mind connected the dots almost immediately, the figure''s title and oddly high level leaving him with only one conclusion to draw. Greg had been wrong: Bakuda was not a man. "Y-Y-You¡­" Greg couldn''t help the stammer in his voice, choking a little from the blood in his throat as he raised a finger at the pretty, young woman in accusation, almost unsure of what he was about to say. "Y-You''re Bakuda?" Over a hundred fearful faces stared at him in distinct confusion, the name not ringing a bell to most of them. All the while, the college-age girl leaning up against the wall with folded arms glanced over at him, pale blue eyes narrowed in his direction as she stared over him like he was nothing but dirt under her boots¡­ Her oddly heavy boots. How did he miss those boots!? No one else had boots! "W-w-w-w-what gave it away?" She replied mockingly, raising an eyebrow as she spoke. Her Bostonian accent was thick, far heavier than Greg would have expected simply from looking at her. Almost like a female John F. Kennedy; A female Asian Kennedy. In any other situation, Greg knew he''d have probably cracked a joke by now or said something just annoying enough about her wicked smaht accent to do the job of pissing her off, but he couldn''t seem to make the words appear in his head. Oddly enough, it seemed to be taking all of his effort not to turn the entire hallway into an oven. But there were too many other girls here ¨C innocent, panicking and cowed into silence as the ABB women who had been hiding among the other girls drew weapons, keeping them from running away: hostages to prevent Greg from acting upon his boiling desire for vengeance. "No, seriously," she continued speaking, a smarmy smirk on her face as she brushed some imaginary dirt off her white tee, "What the fuck gave it away?" Greg said nothing, simply staring at her intently with shock and a burning, hateful glare. "Was it the bitch that shot you?" She jabbed a thumb over at the still-insensate shooter, not once taking her eyes off Greg, seeming to take enjoyment in his dumbstruck state. "I told her not to pull any stupid shit till we were out of here but some people¡­" Bakuda let out a mock sigh, shaking her head slightly, "... just fahckin'' retahded, y''know." Do it. Greg simply stared as she continued to speak, the voices in his head loud enough to relegate most of what Bakuda had to say to simple background noise. Draw your sword. Cut her. "But seriously, though¡­" Her eyes gained a glint to them as she locked gazes with Greg, the smile on her face gaining life as Greg looked on with a lifeless expression. "How the fahck did you know it was me?" "... I guessed." His own voice was quiet. Quiet and angry; the words struggled to escape him through gritted teeth as he felt his state of shock begin to be replaced by a powerful wave of anger. The psychotic parahuman let out a loud snort of laughter, continuing to chuckle for a few seconds more as Greg trembled with rage. "Come on, kid. If I wanted to be fed a load of shit, I''d go to fuckin'' Fugly''s." "...You sure you didn''t blow that up too?" Greg spat back. "Nope, actually. I left that place alone. You never know when you''re hungry for some greasy shit in the middle of the aftern¨C" "You''re a monster!" The blue-eyed Asian-American girl blinked, shooting Greg a look of confusion that the blond knew was not at all real, judging by the glint of enjoyment in her eyes. "What was that?" "You heard me! You''re a fucking monster!" Greg stepped forward only to let out a hiss of pain, his hand jostling the wound around his neck as his fingers shifted position, reminding Greg of the blood held back by his hand that continued to spurt from his neck. The red numbers in his vision jumped up ever so slightly in magnitude before settling down again to normal as Greg kept himself still, eyes burning with anger as he glared at Bakuda with malicious intent written all over his face. Speaking was difficult, painful, and required a little bit of his previous aerokinesis trick, but he couldn''t help but lash out with words, rather than the fists he wished he could use if not for the hostages. "You blew up half the city for no fucking reason! You killed people! Innocent people!" Bakuda shrugged at his words, letting out a slight hum as she paced a few steps, left and right, as the girls around her who weren''t ABB parted to give her leeway. "Yeah¡­ well, that''s just like¡­ your opinion, man." Greg felt his eye twitch, his teeth making an audible noise as he responded with a single, terse syllable, "...What." "I mean, sure, I did some shit you didn''t like," she tapped a finger to her chest, before gesturing over at Greg. "You did some shit I didn''t like. Lemme guess, you''re the same idiot in black that fought Lee, right?" She didn''t let him answer, waving off whatever his stammered attempt at a response would have been as she continued: "I''m pretty sure you ahre. That also makes you the same guy who put a shitload of my men in the hospital... and a few in the morgue. Third, that means you''re the same stupid, little fahck who''s been hoarding all my bombs too?" "Better me than you." She laughed again, the sound grating at Greg''s ears. "... Funny. You got balls, kid. I mean, you fought Lung so that''s a given. Twice, even. Double balls! Medical condition or not, still impressive. Pretty goddamn retahded, though, considering one fahcking bullet can almost drop you." One of her lackeys, a Korean-looking girl with bright blue highlights striping throughout her short hair, handed Bakuda another gun; the psychopath raised it lazily in Greg''s direction. "Pretty sure a second would make another pretty, little hole. And maybe a third, if I feel like it." Greg didn''t need the reminder. Blood was still spurting from between his fingertips. "So, lemme make you a deal. Tell me where the fahck you put my bombs and I''ll let you leave here alive¡­" She paused, tilting her head to the side as she stuck a finger in her mouth and started to work at a nail. "Well, I mean, as fah as you can get with a hole in your neck. That shit looks bad, by the way. I''d get it checked out." "Fuck you." "I don''t do minors. Kinda gross, you know." This wasn''t working; just standing here trading barbs with a psychopath. Greg knew he was gonna have to put her down eventually. He just needed to cover his bases first and that included finding out what he needed to know and making sure he could keep Bakuda and the other ABB women from harming the hostages before making a move. "You''re not gonna win this, you goddamn psycho. I''m not gonna let you leave here alive and you know it." "Wow¡­" Her eyes actually widened slightly, a patronizing smile replacing the smug smirk she wore from the beginning of their exchange. "I don''t know how to tell you this, little boy, but you''re already bleeding out. You look like you can bahely stand up and you''re pretty damn pale. You gotta understand... I''m already winning this just by keeping you here talking. ''Kay, little buddy?" "...Fuck you, Ah''m fine." He couldn''t help his retort to the condescension, purposely slurring his words as his face twisted into a grimace. He eased his grip on his neck a little, allowing slightly more blood to flow out and stumbled forwards a good bit more dramatically than was really necessary. She was wrong, of course. Greg knew he wasn''t losing enough health to be in danger of dying any time soon. But Bakuda wasn''t aware of that at all. She didn''t know about Gamer''s Body, and would think he would bleed out in a manner of minutes."I''m gonna cut you down for everything you did. I could do it right now." She smiled again, her condescending expression turning into a full on sneer. "Okay. Let''s say you could. Let''s say that you''re not already dead on your feet from all the blood not in your body right now. Here''s the deal... You cut me down and the whole city goes sky-high." She tilted her heat to the side and let out a low whistle. "You go, I go, we all go¡­ together." "The hell''re you talkin'' about?" he slurred. "It''s called a fahckin'' dead man''s switch, you little retahd," she snapped, emotions finally taking a step toward impatience or annoyance; Greg really wasn''t sure which. "Not even that. Anytime I want, I could set off the bombs in the unit right behind you. Just like that¡­ boom, nothing but a blond smoothie all ovah the walls." "I don''t buy it." Greg didn''t buy it, not entirely. He couldn''t discount the possibility that she could actually do what she said: Bakuda was clearly a Tinker with a specialty in explosive devices. Her expertise with bombs likely allowed her to be so confident in the ability to detonate whatever explosive she had placed in the Unit right behind him, killing him and avoiding getting caught in the blast herself. There must have been other safeguards in place to ensure she could control the bombs with that kind of precision, discounting the dead man''s switch. So if that was the case, that only left one question; where the hell was the detonator? Bakuda frowned again, her admittedly pretty face twisting with her bitter expression as the gun trembled in her angry grip. "Who the fahck says you gotta buy shit? I''m telling you ''xactly what''s gonna go down if you get stupid all of a sudden." "Doubt it." Greg shook his head slightly, hissing at the motion for a second, until he once more locked eyes with Bakuda. "Really doubt it." Nothing in her hands and her clothes¡­ Bakuda had stripped down to match the look of the other captured girls, leaving her in nothing but a white tee, some short-shorts and a pair of boots heavy enough to work as makeshift dumbbells. There''s no way she could be hiding anything under that. "''Fack does that mean?" No earpiece either and I couldn''t list all the reasons why she wouldn''t have an implant in her head. "What I''m saying is¡­ you''re a fucking psycho but you''re not crazy enough to kill yourself. You probably have a dead man''s switch, sure, but I''m not buying that you''d set off a bomb in a crowded hallway so close to you. It''s a pretty retahded plan." He watched as the Tinker''s eyes narrowed, her hands tightening into fists. Bakuda stared at him, composure cracking just that little bit more as Greg shot her a bloody-toothed smile. "... You think you''re pretty smaht, huh?" "Wicked smaht, yeah." There''s not a lot of places she could hide something like that, right? Her pants were too tiny to reach into with ease, and her white tee was so translucent as to almost be see-through. No device on her hands or arms, not even anything disguised in the form of rings, watches, or any other accessory Bakuda could conceal her detonator in. His eyes dipped down downwards to the thick boots the woman wore, his frown deepening for a second before the tingle ran down his spine. Greg winced to pass it off as pain. Right. "You think I''m bluffin''?" Bakuda shot back, jaw tight as she glared daggers at Greg. "You think I give a shit about these people?" She gestured around at the crowd of blue names around her with the gun, screams arising as all the girls tried to drop to the ground with the exception of the ABB who brandished their weapons to keep them cowed. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was her response to that, annoyance shifting into actual rage before she glanced back to Greg, her voice and tone easing back to smug superiority as she waved the pistol wildly. "All of them are fuckin'' shields. So¡­ tell me where you hid my fahckin'' bombs, or my girls here are gonna kill these lovely little hostages, one by one. I get an answer I don''t like, they die. You try anything stupid, they die. Then I blow you up, and you die. Give me what I want, and everyone walks out of here alive¡­ until you bleed out in the next, oh, three, maybe four minutes, tops." Frightened faces stared back at him, each one of them pleading in their own way. I gotta do this. I can''t let her just¡­ "Feel like talking, kid?" The smile on her face edged a bit too close to manic as she aimed the gun at his heart and Greg was faced with the frustration of how he had missed such an obvious supervillain amid a crowd of innocent victims as he stared back into that wide-toothed grin. He simply blinked at the woman, suddenly far more focused than he expected as the boiling rage and oppressive worry clouding his thoughts dissipated like drops of water on a hot stove. All of that anger, self-defeating frustration, and righteous fury in the pursuit of bloody vengeance for all the pain Bakuda had caused to this city and to Greg himself was immediately replaced by a calm decisiveness and a cold anger that he was somehow certain Gamer''s Mind had absolutely nothing to do with. "You''re making this real easy for me, y''know." He muttered the words under his breath as he stared back defiantly, hand twitching at his side as he held it away from the rest of his body. She frowned, expression darkening as she tried to parse what little she managed to hear. "The fahck did you say?" "I said¡­ [Burst]." The world lit up in a flash of red. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C My Friend Greg (Non-Canon Sidestory) "I''ve never been particularly fond of violence. But these are bad people. Bad people that need to be stopped. So let''s get crazy. Let''s get weird. Let''s get... well... ba?????????N?????????A??n????????????a???S???." My Friend Greg ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Running. Running. Jumping. Again. Hey... Jumping. He did that a lot. Greg... Falling too. Falling up. Falling down. Falling side-to-side. Broooooo... Falling almost never hurt. Almost When it did, he wasn''t the one hurting. Bro! Falling hurt meant blood. Splatter. Blood. Warmth. WAKE UP ALREADY! Amber eyes snapped open, Greg Veder bursting upright in his twin bed with a wide grin that seemed to never fall away. He didn''t know why nor did he care too much to think about why that was, the too-wide smile a comforting sight he believed for others as well as himself; at least, whenever he looked in a mirror.
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"Good morning, Brockton Bay!" He shouted out to no one in particular, literally leaping out of bed and immediately stretching his arms out and above his head. The dark-haired boy darted over to his window, quickly lifting it open and sticking his head out to enjoy the fresh morning air. "Would you look at that! Another sunny summer day!" Stepping into the bathroom, Greg once again met his face in the mirror and froze for a moment, confusion marring his smile, before quickly shooting himself a wicked pair of finger guns with as best a wink as he could manage. "Looking good, guy. Looking goooood." Not his very best wink, of course, but he had just woken up. The tap began running as he turned the nozzle as hot as it could go, splashing scalding water into his face without a care. He stuck his entire head under the faucet for a few seconds before he finally shut the water off, shaking his head like a dog would to dry itself. Dark shoulder-length hair splattered blood-stained water all across the counter and Greg found himself freezing up again... Greg Veder stared back at his reflection, golden eyes once again blinking with clear confusion, before he grabbed the toothbrush on the counter without even looking down, applying toothpaste to the bristles much the same way. He raised his hand¡ª He raised his hand and pulled, the quick jerk he felt in response sending a shiver up his spine. He did it again. The world rushed past him as the board beneath his feet carried him. He kicked, flipping up and pulling out a second. Both hands now. Raised. Twitching. Again. Again. Again. He jumped, flipped, spun, darted. Every single way he could think of, the actions coming to him faster than he could conceive of them. The guns in his hand fired. He dodged. Bullets, blades, fists, bats¡­ His yellow shirt, bloody and warm even in the cold night air as he shattered a window with a single kick. Glass flew around him. His gloved hands found a large piece, a wide eye his target and¡ª
[???????????P??????o????s????????????????????-?????????¨€¨€¨€¨€?????????S?????t???????r????e????s???????????s??????? ????????¨€¨€¡ª¨€¨€]???????? ??????n???e???????g?????a??????t?????????e????????d???? ????b????y?????? ???G????????a??????m?????????e??????????r??????''??????????s??????? ???????????M?i??n????????d???????.?????????
He blinked. ...Huh. Greg blinked again, wondering why he wasn''t in the bathroom anymore. A tongue across his teeth confirmed that he had already brushed¡­ ok. A hand raised to his head told him he had also brushed his hair while the lack of smell coming from his underarms telling him the same towards the areas of bathing and deodorant as well. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The fact that he was already clothed didn''t go unnoticed either. Thumbing the new flannel shirt he had on, he sat up at the dining table and found himself staring down at the breakfast plate he didn''t remember making for himself. ...Weird. Did I sleepwalk or something? Before he could give more thought to the situation, the sound of running water caught his attention; the sound coming from right inside the kitchen just around the corner. Mom? His smile dimmed somewhat, Greg more confused than ever. I don''t remember seeing her this morning. The fifteen-year old stood up, glancing down at his plate one more time without even the slightest feeling of hunger. Shrugging, he reached for the yellowest banana on the bunch in the middle of the table and taking the time to push his chair back into place before he walked away from the dining room, confusion warring with curiosity as he stepped into the kitchen. A familiar face stood there at the sink, turning to the side with a sud-filled frying pan¡ª ¡ªhe hurled upwards like a frisbee. The skillet flipped through the air, end over end, for a second or two. He stared up at it, the world suddenly slowing down as the single pistol in his hand seemed to lock onto it''s inner surface. Grace that didn''t feel like his and dexterity that could never have been natural came to life as he repeatedly pulled the trigger of the gun he had aimed into the air. K??????I?????L??????L????? ????????T??????H?????E???M?????????? ????????A?????L??????L??? Bullets flew up and ricocheted immediately, lead finding itself at home in the fleshy bodies of tattooed and armed gang members surrounding him. Five fell. Five more. He hurled himself into the air, fingers enclosed around the frying pan¡ª ¡ªstill in her hand as the sound of footsteps on wood reached her ears. Familiar, yet still unexpected. "Mrs R~Mom?" Greg suddenly found himself even more confused, his somewhat higher-pitched chirp of a voice immediately shifting into a lower, slower drawling thing halfway through. That sudden change came second to the fact that the words immediately on his lips had become something else entirely. Even that came second to the sheer surprise of seeing the person in front of him in his house. Sparky''s mom stared back at him with some confusion herself, gloved hands on her hips as she left the half-washed frying pan on the counter. "Was that supposed to be a question, Ax? Who else would I be?" Ax? Greg found himself wondering, the question a screaming thought in his head for a moment before he suddenly found himself calm again, the low smooth ¨C yet incredibly familiar ¨C voice that wasn''t his responding in his place. "Nah, mom, wasn''t a question. Just a yawn, y''know. Still kinda beat, I guess." "Beat, huh?" Mrs Ramon nodded, a look of understanding on her face at his words. "Well¡­ Can''t say I''m really surprised." She suddenly surged forward, enveloping him in a hug that was both unexpected and frighteningly intimate, the teenager sinking into the embrace with worrying familiarity. "I''m just so happy you''re doing better." Better? He gripped his mom a bit tighter, that word wiping the smile from his face as he found himself pondering over what that could mean. Did something¡­ did something happen? He glanced around the suddenly unfamiliar kitchen, realizing that this looked nothing like the one he had eaten in almost every day for as long as he could remember. The island in the middle of the shiny wooden floor, expensive-looking oven and the array of¡ª ¡ªchef''s knives in the apartment kitchen and he grabbed the largest he could find at a moment''s notice. It spun in his fingers in a display of skill that most would be hard-pressed to match before it suddenly shot forth with speed and force that none of the men around him would live to ever see again. The blade embedded itself directly into the forehead of a gangster on the far wall, the thug in the middle of reloading his rifle as fast he could. He slumped to the ground almost immediately, but not so fast that the teenager in the black mask wasn''t able to dart across the room and tear the knife from his skull. He spun again, grabbing his skateboard from the floor in a single smooth motion and shot off. Sneakers slapped against the bloodied floor as he rushed back in the opposite direction he came from; seemingly paying no attention to the last remaining Empire member as the leather-clad skinhead tried to make a break for it. D????????I???????????E?????????? ??????D????????I??????E???? ????????????D???????I?????????E??? ??????D??????I???????????E??????????? The teenager leapt, feet crashing through the tall apartment window as he launched himself outside, flannel shirt flapping behind him like a short cape. Knife still in hand, he released the knife, as if to let it fall with him, before suddenly flipping himself over in mid-air and kicking the hilt of it with enough power to launch the¡ª ¡ªknives artfully arranged around the main cooking spaces; all of it was nothing like his mom''s simply crafted kitchen. Susan Veder knew how to cook, but she wasn''t some sort of professional or anything. "Doing better?" he couldn''t help but ask, trying to pull away from the embrace. Mrs. Ramon didn''t ease up, though, as she continued speaking. "You''ve just been so quiet these last couple of months, barely saying a word locked in your room all day. Your dad and I were worried you were dumping your pills again." Mrs. Ramon continued, hugging even tighter as her voice began to tremble slightly. "I know you miss your friend but I can''t lose you." "...What?" Amber eyes blinked as wariness was replaced with dread entirely. "Mom, wha-" Mrs. Ramon finally pulled away, a sad expression on her face. "I could never thank him enough for what he did. That bullet would have gone right through your head if he... if he..." The boy in her arms could only widen his eyes, wariness and confusion reaching an all-time high. What¡­ "Greg saved your life, baby." She hugged him again before brushing his hair aside to plant a wet kiss on his forehead. "Don''t let it go to waste." Axel ''Sparky'' Ramon froze in his mother''s arms as she pulled back and patted his cheek, turning back to the dishes as her son tried to reconcile what he had just learned. A soft, familiar laugh crept it''s way into his ears and Sparky found himself looking down at his hands, feeling so empty that he couldn''t even muster any more confusion at the world; the smile that wasn''t his no longer on his face. The banana in his hand, however, wore it proudly. "Hey, buddy," it spoke up, Greg Veder''s voice loud and clear to no one else but him. The banana was far too expressive, in as much as a banana could be. With a wide, manic smile, the thing shot him a wink with blue eyes that shouldn''t belong at all on a piece of fruit. "How about another rampage tonight?" Mob 5.17 I''d like to thank all those who pledged to me on Patreon. Special shoutout to my newest Patrons Reaper34, Maxwell King, Ashley Stanhope, maltmana & RNGoddess. Thanks to my Betas, Kenmadragon, Segev, FancyMollases and DasStan. Especially Kenma, who took a bunch of time out to edit ANOTHER HUGE CHAPTER HERE. Mob 5.17 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Inventory.] Burst]."
Quest Success! "ABB I: Avenge The Fallen" Completed! Gained Territory: Azn Bad Boys [Brockton Bay] Gained $500,000 Gained 10 Stat Points Gained 5 Perk Points
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 21, 2011 3:54 AM What part of ''call the cops'' was not understandable? Greg did his best to fight a frown, bright lights flaring in his face amid the noise of sirens and so much commotion around him. Vans of various types filled the streets in front of the storage facility; multiple red-and-white ambulances, a couple armoured trucks from the Brockton Bay Police Department, several heavy-duty assault tanks of the PRT in gunmetal black with mounted containment-foam sprayers, and the simple white vehicles emblazoned with logos that Greg knew belonged to the local news¡­ News vans¡­ Greg found himself stifling a groan of infinite frustration as he cast a tired gaze over at the crowd of over-eager reporters clamoring for attention like a class full of kindergartners; each one of them armed with microphones, cameras and enough caffeine to give them the energy to be this wide-eyed and chipper at 4 AM in the goddamn morning. The idea of having to stand in front of cameras and answer questions in any coherent way when he felt like death warmed over. Jesus¡­ They''re gonna get you to your families." He stretched his mouth out into a smile, quietly hoping that the expression didn''t look anywhere as strained and insincere as he felt it did. "You miss your mommies and daddies, right?" okays" he received, not bothering to pull back again as the four girls came in for another hug. He ignored the flashing lights and general babble from the media not too far from him; a wall of bodies threatening to break past the enclosure in their eagerness if not for the police maintaining the barrier.
CHA + 1
Of course not. No. screamed at) about what happened to the girl''s legs by the heavily armed police and PRT, should he have simply gestured with the weapon in his hand and responded, "Oh¡­ yeah. That? Me," instead of almost anything else? Probably not the best choice, no. aesthetic¡­ Maybe. why they had stopped grilling him for answers, so much as the fact that they did. another set of questions along that line, if Greg had to guess. The blond sighed loudly, his bored expression tinted with a hint of annoyance as he faced the approaching PRT officer. Let''s get this over with. Yes." not well-received. did have to, officer." not going to find said pair of legs anywhere inside the building. Said struggle lasted about as long as it took him to realize that would mean explaining his [Inventory], and he didn''t have the energy nor inclination to do so. So, the blond stepped out of their way and sank back against the wall. He''d let them figure it out on their own. Not like they could have stopped me, anyway. was a good question, he''d admit ¨C but the answer was simple enough. The blood-splattered cape shrugged as best he could given the state of his neck and replied, "Tinkers." That''s what you''re going with?" He scoffed openly, clear signs of annoyance as he continued to stare. "Tinkers? Is that really all you have to say about what you did?" brutalized those people. Some of them badly enough that they''ll never recover properly!" Is this guy really¡­ And?" His hands tightened at his sides as he turned to match the police officer''s stare. "Why do you care?" for you? Where do you get off telling me what to do?" No." why are we talking about this?" the blond growled despite himself, mouth open in a grimace. "And by the way¡­ those weren''t people. They were human-traffickers." The officer visibly tensed as Greg took an unintended step forward, his blue eyes flashing unnaturally behind his helm. "Now, are we done with the questions or what?" Talking to me about what I shouldn''t have done? Like he was there. Like any cops were there! Who the hell d- no-" Dauntless¡­ And then a blur vibrated into sight and solidity beside the hero. Greg recognized the lanky figure in a skintight red suit with white racing stripes down the sides as well, but only as an afterthought to the rising star of the Brockton Bay Protectorate ¡­and Velocity too. The hero to replace Hero" ¡ª that''s what they called Dauntless ("they" being every nerd and cape-geek online). much less impressive form of Velocity, the red-clad cape basically as interesting as the walls he stood just a bit away from. Sir Prodigy. Wouldn''t want to get that wrong. I''m Dauntless, by the way," he added, placing a palm on his chest in introduction. As if anyone in Brockton Bay would ever be so brain-dead as to mistake him for another cape. He had been fighting but... stared, eyes almost narrowing as he gave Dauntless a once-over. The cape was seemingly untouched, from head to toe: not a single speck of dust, grime or debris on his person. His armor glowed enough under the streetlight for Greg to make out it''s immaculateness. The teen''s disquiet edged into angered frustration as he turned a suspicious eye on Velocity and noticed that the speedster seemed very much the same, despite the haggard, five-o''clock shadow on his jaw - a costume that looked comfortably worn and well-used, but clean and spotless all the same. They even had the gall to smell faintly of floral shampoo! at ¡ª Greg to make some kind of conversation, but it all went in one ear and out the other. Greg was simply too exhausted by the ordeals of the last few days and his annoyance at their audacity to actually be clean when he was an absolute mess to pay attention to what they were saying. Where were these guys? unimpressed. I just had to come outside, huh? Couldn''t have just left out the back or through the roof like a smart person would have. He glanced up at Dauntless again, envious of how the cape could so effortlessly look like he''d just walked off of the cover of ''Hero Beat'' or ''Power Week'' magazines as he seemed to laugh at some personal joke he made to Velocity, the other cape nodding as his visor remained locked on Greg. Jesus Christ, the things I''d do for a sarcastic Tony the Tiger sound effect button. The mileage I''d get out of that thing. Huh? Greg shook his head again as he caught the last few words of whatever statement Dauntless had been directing towards him, thoughts going down another trail as both capes waited there. Oh, they want me to talk. Out loud. To the reporters. Uh... yeah, what''d you say again?" All of us. No matter how long, exhausting or dirty the job is, keeping the people safe comes first." what¡­," the younger cape leaned back, a wry grin sneaking onto his face as he let out a laugh that was equal parts exhaustion and actual humor, "... what kind of heroes would just let somebody do all the work for them?"
CHA + 1
Please tell me that means what I think it means. Assist? Pick up the slack? Do what they can!? bullshit what for. Yet, even as his anger burst to life¡­ it also faded away just as quickly, Greg''s shoulders slumping as he swallowed the rage down, holding it under control before Gamer''s Mind could get the chance. The anger didn''t fade as he let the words go, but it was enough for him to keep his face blank and his gaze focused. His fingers loosened, fists falling into open hands at his side as he did his best to bite down whatever imagined retort he knew would only hurt him or Dauntless more than it would the PRT puppet-masters behind the hero. I''m supposed to just let them do this to me? Where were they when Bakuda was running amok, blowing the city to hell? Where were they Oni Lee almost killed Shielder¡­ when those girls were locked up for weeks¡­ when Emma was hurt¡­ when Mom... What about me, though? Do I have to just grin and bear it?
WIS + 1
Yeah¡­ I know. He shook his head yet again as he stared back at Dauntless, camera lights still focused on both of them. This is the city''s best. The next Hero? He''s a strong cape, and an awesome fighter, I''ve seen the videos¡­ but does the guy have an original thought in his head?. The exhaustion Greg felt the longer he stood there, sandwiched between Dauntless and Velocity, couldn''t be put into words. mess of a public conversation like a trained parrot. He turned once more, eyes narrowing as he turned to face the cameras themselves. It felt like hours before the expression on his face shifted into anything approximating a smile but he managed it somehow, looking directly at the nearest camera. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C April 21, 2011
Gregory Lucas Veder raised a hand over his face, turning his head as the sun began peeking over the horizon, announcing the beginning of a new day to a battered city. He squinted as rays of sunlight assaulted his unprepared eyes, deepening the heavy frown he wore even further as he was struck by the natural radiance of the dawnstar scattering beautiful colors across the sky with the paintbrush of a god. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Morning already¡­ He thought to himself, shaking his head slightly. Why that thought deserved a scoff, Greg wasn''t really sure. But he didn''t let that prevent him from letting out a sound of wearily distinct exasperation. It may have been a new day for Brockton Bay, in more than one way, but it felt like the same-old song to Greg. He hadn''t slept, after all. The sight of thick smoke on the horizon stood out as the sun began to inch ever higher, exposing the heavy cloud of smog that still choked a good portion of Downtown. Sirens occasionally rang out from place to place, their wailing growing more and more distant as Greg continued his slow trek. Life was beginning to return to the Bay, from what the teenager could feel in the way the city moved as he hobbled through his hometown''s various neighborhoods. Things seemed to be settling down in the last three hours in a way that was dramatically different from the four days preceding it. The city was waking up from a nightmare, and struggling to remind itself that those horrid dreams were in the past, and it had a new day to look forward too. If only Greg had that optimism. The city was waking up from a nightmare, and struggling to remind itself that those horrid dreams were in the past, and it had a new day to look forward too. If only Greg had that optimism. Meandering through back-alleys and side-streets, backroads and rooftops as he made his way through the city had told him enough. Police cars, ambulances and those white shuttle-buses that had been everywhere the previous day were a constant sight, almost impossible to miss as they sped through nearly every major road through the city. Every one of them had something to do ¨C though all of them served much the same purpose, really: picking up and dropping off people at varying locations, whether that was one of several police stations, multiple hospitals, or any one of dozens of neighborhoods. The streets were awash with activity, yet still a fraction of what it would have been if today had been a normal morning. Firefighters were still busy hosing down half-burned-out wrecks and handling rescue work alongside EMTs while policemen arrested looters attempting to capitalize on the chaos while they could. Would-be gangsters prowled about, seeking opportunities to seize power, as the powers-that-be tallied the damage and plotted what moves they could make next.. Hordes of people who had fled the city in fear were beginning to trickle back, coming home to pick up the pieces of the lives they had abruptly dropped and left behind in the days before. Brockton Bay was beginning to feel more like herself again. If he was still in costume, Greg knew that he would have been out there trying to see what he could do to assist. But now wasn''t the time for that. He was in casual clothes again, a dark blue shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans made up his cunning disguise: just another totally average teenager. Pulling off superhuman feats of strength and prowess in the public eye while dressed like all the other normal people wouldn''t have been the best of ideas. More than that, though, Greg simply couldn''t find it in himself to help because, well¡­ he was tired. Dead tired. Not so much physically, but... It said a great deal about his fatigue when the blond couldn''t find it in him to hold his head up straight, his neck feeling weaker than a newborn baby''s as he trudged along through his seemingly empty neighborhood. Each limb felt like it was made of concrete, hundreds of pounds lashed to the bones of his arms and legs, dragging him down and slowing his movement. Above all else, Greg felt like simply collapsing face-first onto one of his neighbor''s lawns and sleeping for an eternity. That, or until someone poked him back into consciousness with a rake. He''d been in this state since he had rocketed away from Dauntless, Velocity and the mob of reporters that had surrounded them, the last dregs of adrenaline fading from his body as he pressed himself up against the side of a filthy alley wall to catch his breath several blocks away. That feeling of sheer exhaustion hadn''t faded in over three hours, long enough for Greg to trudge his way around the city on a meandering path towards home. Staring up into the brightening sky again, Greg shook his head at just how quickly everything had gone by. The previous day had felt short¡­ much too short for the events that had transpired. Three supervillains in, like, twelve hours; something like that belonged in some stupid fantasy he would have dreamt up a year ago, one that Sparky would probably roll his eyes at, but later they would laugh about when they thought back about how stupid he sounded before arguing about other stupid things, like whether Jane Hinley from English was secretly from Mars or something. His mouth quirked up at one side in nostalgic mirth before falling again as he let out a tired sigh, eyelid drooping under the rising sun as he turned the corner onto an eerily familiar street.What difference did it make, anyway? Doing all that¡­ It felt pointless, honestly. Like it didn''t ever matter. Oni Lee¡­A stupid decision but at least he had softened the guy up enough for someone else to claim the takedown. Still, it didn''t really change the fact that Lee had just been an excuse to dump everything he was feeling - all the anger and frustration he had at the time - onto an acceptable target. Beating him probably wouldn''t have made him feel any better than losing to him had, most likely. And venting his emotions in a fight like that hadn''t made him feel any better, not really. Lung¡­Another mess, that much was true. A bigger target, too, one that felt more like he was attacking the reason behind all this pain than some ninja-mook following orders. Even with that, though, Lung hadn''t been the cause of all this. Lung was pretty much just another big punching bag, albeit one that actually made him feel like he was getting somewhere. He had felt better after Lung. Beating him had felt¡­so goddamn good. But it hadn''t been enough. Bakuda¡­Greg''s fist tightened at his side, his breathing hitching for a second. She had started all of this, throwing away so many lives for no real reason. He just couldn''t understand why she had wanted to do any of the horrible things she had done to the city and its peoples, and he doubted Bakuda would ever have told him¡­ no matter what he did. She was the villain here; the crazy mastermind responsible for ending so many lives¡­. And yet, when he had cut her off at the knees, he hadn''t felt much of anything. Certainly nothing that lasted... The moment before felt almost exactly the same as the moment after, only afterwards it was Greg looking down at her as she lay their, screaming, writhing in agony. He hadn''t felt any different from before. There was the satisfaction of finally being done with his Quest, of having finished what he had set out to do¡­ but feeling of achievement was lacking. Getting all of those girls out of there had been the only thing that left him with any real sense of accomplishment, but even that had faded far more quickly than he had expected. What was even the point of all this?Greg stopped where he stood, knuckles white as he squeezed his fist tight enough to almost hurt. He knew what he did was important, because of course it was important. It was of vital importance that he had stopped the ABB as best he could, and crippled it so thoroughly. That was important.It had to be. But the question still rang like a church bell and echoed through his mind, ringing even louder as he stood in front of the white-painted walls of his family home. It was frighteningly unnerving just how out of place Greg felt as he stood in front of the Colonial-style house. He had lived there for longer than he could remember. He recalled everything about it; the paint, the windows, the pointlessly ornate wind chimes hanging from the porch¡­This was home. A key appeared in his fingers, blue motes of light falling away as he slipped it into the doorknob, twisted, and pulled open the door. It made no sense that everything still looked the same, a testament to the family that had lived there for so many years, of the child who had grown up within its walls, and all the work and care and attention it''s occupants had paid it. And yet... It was missing something. The person that made it feel exactly like it should. Stepping into the foyer, Greg turned to stare at the mirror that hung in front of the coat closet. An almost-unrecognizable face stared back at him, a shock of blond hair atop a face stained with grime, dirt and blood several layers deep. For a moment, Greg simply glared at his reflection, primal anger welling up in his chest with a scalding heat that made him want to scream, rage and cry. Instead, he shut his mouth tight, teeth clicking from the suddenness of his action, a current of exhaustion and embarrassment replacing all the anger he felt. Angry for what?He asked the filthy figure in the mirror.Angry at yourself? You did the right thing, right? You saved people. You stopped bad guys. So what are you angry for?Greg stared bitterly at himself, the feelings of impotent fury giving way to bitter shame at his own selfishness in the face of everything else.Why does it feel so fu- "G-Greg?" He jumped back, head slamming against the front door as his jaw dropped in surprise. At the very same moment, he watched someone leap up from the living room almost as quickly, then freeze in place as they stared back at him. Hope flared to life, but with it came fear ¨C a deeper breed, and not one he could simply soldier on past. Unwilling to believe the illusion in front of him, Greg Veder crushed his eyelids as tightly as he could, keeping them closed as he let out several long, shuddering breaths, mouth forming silent words. He remained that way, struggling to breathe or form words, even as his ears still told him everything he knew to be a lie; his name repeated in that same, painfully familiar voice over and over, each time getting louder and making it harder for him to ignore it.Please, please, please¡­ Who was it, who would do something like this? Was there some villain lurking in his home, purposely trying to bring up the worst thing they could just to bring him down? Or had he simply lost it over the last few days as he had worried about for a while, and his mind was finally admitting it by showing him delusions he knew were impossible. Make it stop! He didn''t move, though; unwilling to open his eyes or take so much as a single step as he tried to convince himself that he was still imagining all of this. The doorknob remained right behind him, yet his hands stayed ramrod still by his side. This isn''t real! It''s all in my head... Greg Veder didn''t move an inch. Not when he heard slow footsteps approach him, his name louder than ever. Not when those footsteps became hurried and his name was shouted out loud in a voice that he could swear he knew better than even his own. Not when familiar arms wrapped themselves around him, deep sobs sounding off right next to his ears. "-s'' okay, sweetheart. It''s okay," that familiar voice spoke again. Greg barely heard anything amid the shuddering sobs and the sounds of open bawling. "Mommy''s here. I''m never gonna leave you again. It''s okay." Against his will, he found himself tightly holding the figure that couldn''t be real, sinking into the embrace of the illusion that he desperately wanted to be true. A hand patted his back, rubbing the spot behind his shoulders as deep sobs continued to sound through the confines of the house. The sensation of hot liquid trailing down his cheeks made him realize exactly where that crying sound was coming from, and his eyes stung with the burn of tears as he came to that realization. "It''s okay, Greggie." "M-" The word seemed stuck in his throat, choking on a sob and unable to get out. Breathing heavy and stilted, Greg Veder opened his eyes again with a monumental force of will, equal halves of him warring for and against the idea. Cascading blonde hair, longer than he remembered but otherwise the same, pressed up against his face as he sunk down into the hug. Her warm, beautiful face smiled sadly at him, and her brilliant eyes brimmed with happy tears. "M~mom." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C STATUS
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
??Age: 15 (and three-quarters!) Title: Dragonbane Knight
Level 30 Experience 500/50000
Health 175/2282 (+200)
Mana 35/885
Willpower 55/930 (+38)
STR 96 (+5) (+10) (+25) SPD 95 (+5)
VIT 136 (+5) (+20) INT 65
WIS 22 (-70%) CHA 29 (+9) (-90%) [+15]
Stat Points: 63 Perk Points: 22
Cash: $1,155,700.82
TRAITS Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. (50% bonus to INT gains, -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.) Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. (-70% reduction to overall WIS, -90% reduction to overall CHA.) Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. (+ 9 CHA) Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Peak Human: What is peak human, anyway? Somehow, you have surpassed the physical threshold of humanity, surpassing those inherent limits man is beholden to. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 50 pts)
PERKS Baby Steps (1/3) [Ranked Skill] With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Danger Sense (6/10) [Ranked Skill] My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Developed Mind (1/10) [Ranked Ability] I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Fire Dragon''s Aura (1/10) [Ranked Skill] Bathed in Dragon Fire and Blood, I shall fear no flame At a rate of 1 MP per second per rank, draw upon your pyrokinesis to generate an aura of fire. Your equipment and body are immune to the heat, of it and anything cooler than it. It is, however, actual fire, so try not to burn down your house. In addition, you can literally breathe fire instead of air while this is active. Growing Will (1/10) [Ranked Ability] Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Iron Body "I am not built as weakly as you are." Forget about being tougher than most people. Now, you''re just plain superhuman. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, in addition to all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The range and clarity of your vision scale with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (5/10) [Ranked Ability] Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) [Ranked Ability] You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) [Ranked Skill] "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/per 2 seconds)
TITLES Dragon-Blooded Knight [ACTIVE] My body bathed in the blood of dragons, my soul forged in the hottest fires, my skill honed in battle, I have been reborn. Title grants +10% overall Damage Resistance in addition to all regular resistances one has with an additional 10% resistance to fire, +10 to VIT, + 5 to STR, + 100 to Health and +50% Damage against any creature bearing the form of [Dragon]. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Ninja-In-Training [ACTIVE] It''s my ninja way!!! Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 25% and + 2 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 9 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Dash Straight Lv 12 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Damage: 165 Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter power sprinted Mana Bolt Lv 1 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: 50 Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 4 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (.25 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Observe Lv 16 A skill to find out basic information relating to the chosen object. Cost: 1 MP Raging Combo Lv 13 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Damage: 390 Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Apprentice) Lv 24 A discount version of the Kaio-Ken for the squishy wizard. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique from a base of 50%. Does not increase actual points of vitality or willpower. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. (170%) Cost: 5 Will every 2 seconds Warning: Overuse will lead to HP damage.
Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills.
  • A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 1 second.
  • (x 2.5 top Reinforced SPD/STR)
Cost: 20 Will, 40 HP
Subskill: Layer Reinforcement
  • Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness.
  • This form of reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a base quality increase of 250% Each level improves this by 25%.
  • (775%)
Cost: 2 Will every 5 seconds. Mana Barrier Lv 1 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. [Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity.] Cost: 50 Mana Pyrokinesis (Basic) Lv 13 Burn, baby, burn! Generate and control flames up to a range of 9 meters. Increases in range by 1 meter every other level. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Surface Adhesion Lv 11 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis
  • Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 18 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (9 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 28 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv 7 Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 17 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (34%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (20%) Breath-Holding Lv 15 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (7.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 1 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 6 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (12%) Driving Lv 4 NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 6 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (30%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (12%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 8 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid. Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (8%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 8 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 1 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. Meditation Lvl 12 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (120%) Parry Lv 13 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (26%) Reflexes Lv 17 DODGE! Decreases innate reaction time by 5% per level. (85%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 68 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (51%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat Lv 48 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (48%) Resistance: Piercing Lv 37 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (27.75%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 15 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (30%) Stamina Lvl 20 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (100 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 28 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (56%) Taunt Lv 13 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (26%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Parahuman Response Team I''d like to thank all those who pledged to me on my Patreon. You really do help out a lot more than you know. Special thanks to my Betas; kenmadragon, Segev, dasstan, FancyMolasses, and the newest of them all, MagusZanin. Cutscene: PRT (or Emily Piggot and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day) ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Sir Prodigy (White Knight)'' writ large across it, and below, in smaller font,''Mystery Cape; Potential Ward? Independent Hero?'' What can I say except..." He paused mid-sentence as he affixed his gaze directly on the camera closest to him, playful expression still unchanged. The blue eyes behind the helm seemed to run through a gamut of emotions, exhaustion primarily, before he finally concluded with, "...You''re welcome. Honestly, you''re welcome. I don''t know what else I can say, really. I''ve done a lot since yesterday. And I''m extremely beat and I could use all the sleep but I''m glad I was able to do what I could and help where I was needed. So, again, all I can say is, well... G''night, Brockton Bay!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C who, have spent all day discussingwhat, fully understand as towhere, am entirely cognizant as towhen, and finally, have no interest whatsoever as towhy." how?" footage. Footage proving that the Protectorate of Brockton Bay and the PRT ENE can''t even keep up with a literal child in ramshackle armor. I can barely believe it myself as it is so..." Taking in another breath, she stared at the entirety of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and continued, voice slightly strained as she spoke. "Again, I have to ask how... How could you simply let this happen?" Some more than others,she noted as her gaze flicked over to the haggard-looking Triumph. Since none of your subordinates seem to possess the balls to do so,remained unsaid as Piggot impatiently rapped the marble tabletop with her pen. Or don''t want to come up with excuses for being found inadequate while they''re bleary-eyed and exhausted. [Multi-Trigger]note has been added to his file ¨C the combination of which made him an effective counter to Lung''s own parahuman powers. In terms of Threat Ratings for response, I have settled upon giving Prodigy a tentative mid-level Hurdle/Run/Takeoff combination-category Mover rating of 4 along with a mid-level, composite Brute rating built from twin categories; Field and R-" Good.Piggot knew better than to blame him for the situation on everyone''s mind, but that didn''t mean she wasn''t fine with letting him stew in his own misguided sense of guilt. It was a rare cape, in her view, that had enough self-awareness to realize their missteps ¨C imagined or not ¨C and she''d be an idiot to weaken that by convincing them they did nothing wrong. Two?Even better. stupidbalancing act. It couldn''t go on forever, Piggot knew that much, and it was all she could do to keep it in one piece for as long as possible. Lately, it was far too often that Emily found herself wondering if she had made the right choice in accepting a position as thankless and problematic as this one.''Things will fall apart, though,''a firm scowl worked itself onto her face at the thought,''and who are they gonna blame when it eventually does?'' problemthat was uncovered within our Wards... ¨Co ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C veryuseful. Locker Incident." entirelyjustified, her reaction was understandable and, given what we now know, not unexpected. Naturally, we have made it clear to her that, as a new Ward faced with the cause of her trigger, she will face no repercussions. You, on the other hand..." He raised his gaze slightly, frown now clear on his face as Sophia glared back at him with a look that bordered on murderous. of course she fuckin'' did.Her mom had basically given her over to the PRT to keep the authorities from throwing her in juvie when she was finally caught by the self-righteous, parahuman clowns and the teenage girl knew for a fact that not a fucking one of them would say shit in her defense if Hebert gave them her whole sob-story. People were egocentric, blind morons that way, slaves to the lies they tell themselves about how the world works because they''re too weak to handle the truth.This isn''t fuckin'' fair, she fumed to herself, eyes stinging as she fought the urge to scream again.I did everything they wanted. I danced for the fucking cameras. I went to the fucking Behemoth fight. I played nice with those shitheads on my team. This isn''t fuckin'' fair! You can''t do-" She found her voice again, long enough to growl out those three syllables, only for the man standing across from her to interject. Cutscene: Publicity I''d like to thank all those who pledged to me on my Patreon account. You really do help out a lot more than you know. Special thanks to my Betas; kenmadragon, Segev, dasstan, FancyMolasses, and the newest of them all, MagusZanin.
Cutscene: Publicity ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Evening in Brockton Bay had rarely been this peaceful for a long while. It was a Sunday evening to remember simply for the fact that it was so un-memorable. The night was quiet and calm, no distant explosions nor wailing sirens to drown out the general ambient noise that came with living in the suburbs. A perfect day; one best spent enjoying the warmth of family and the little things that came with it. Things like the smell of a freshly cooked dinner wafting through the house as the general sounds of clattering plates and movement accompanied it. Most enjoyable of all, though, was settling into the best spot on the couch, a warm blanket wrapping you from top to bottom like a burrito and watching your favorite Sunday night show. Little things like that. Slender fingers wrapped themselves around the remote resting on the polished coffee table, fumbling with it for a few minutes as the channels flipped by. Several dozen stations went by, each one somehow less interesting than the last, until finally¡­ "What number was that stupid channel again?" A quiet voice muttered aloud, more than a hint of frustration evident. "Oh, yeah¡­ 3-6-6." Finally there after what seemed like hours of pointless searching, the television wasted no time in broadcasting the uncomfortably loud and overdone intros that every news-related program seemed to feel were necessary to be taken seriously. As the intro finally came to a close and its various banners, infographics and images ¨C all tinted a rather bright blue ¨C vanished from the screen, the focus shifted to zooming in on a well-lit studio stage set up much like most news programs were, only with far more blue-tinted glass than most. A pale man sat at the center of the stage at the head of an oblong glass table in the shape of a blue-tinted map of Earth, several cameras trained directly on him as he faced his applauding audience. Sitting there in a perfectly-pressed navy suit with perfectly coiffed black hair, the man of the hour gave the audience a wide smile, arms outstretched like a showboating football player. The audience responded with even more powerful applause as the show''s theme music swelled, cheering voices growing in volume. Rising from the unneeded bow with one hand still spread out in a flourish, he began to speak, voice quieting down the audience by itself. "Welcome! Welcome! Welcome! We''ve got a great audience tonight, great guests and a great show to match it, don''t we?," the host spoke up with a smile, theatrical voice projecting powerfully as he hammed it up for the audience. "For all those watching at home, thanks for tuning into The Domino Network on this wonderful Sunday Evening. I''m your host, Zac Young, bringing you every angle on the most relevant and trending hot button issues about¡­" The camera zoomed in on him in a close-up as the host snapped the fingers on both hands, pointing right back at the audience as they all answered in unison. "You guessed it, capes! Welcome to CapeWatch, people! Today we have with us we have NYU Parahuman Studies Professor and author of the new book, ''Evil, Be Thou My Good: An Analysis of Parahuman Psychology'', Dr. Jerry Goldstein." As Young gestured off to his right, the camera shifted along with his movement to display a somewhat portly figure in a smoky, argyle sweater vest, the man''s bald head and pallid skin giving him an appearance not unlike a bald egg. He blinked owlishly as the camera zoomed in to his face, the man pulling an awkward smile. Below his double chin, a blue banner unfurled along the bottom of the screen to display his name in brightly contrasting snow-white lettering. "G-great to be here." "...famous UK rapper, co-owner of Cape Beat UK and host of the long-running podcast, ''Cape or Cowl'', Dazz D!" The screen moved right to show off a dark-skinned black man in his mid-twenties wearing a bright red leather jacket, a jewel-encrusted, platinum crucifix around his neck and a pair of transparent-framed tortoiseshell glasses low on his nose. The man let out a laugh as he leaned forward ¨C elbows on the table ¨C and grinned at the audience, showcasing a platinum grill smile that shined distractingly bright under the studio lights. "Please, please, call me Dazzy." In a more subdued tone of voice, Young continued. "And to my left, former Media Director for the children''s group, Mothers against Mayhem, Youth Guard proponent, and current CapeWatch Junior Contributor, Michelle Maitland." The camera panned again, this time in the opposite direction, the screen shifting to show the slightly-forced smile on the face of an older, caramel-toned woman in a dark-gray pantsuit waving at the audience, russet-colored hair hanging free around her face. She raised her hand up halfway in a hesitating manner, her smile straining slightly as she seemed torn over whether to wave towards the studio audience or the camera. "Always a pleasure." "And last, but certainly not least¡­" Young brought his hands together one more time before leaning back in his seat, smile spreading even wider across his face as he continued speaking, "Let me be the one to introduce noted philanthropist, multi-millionaire businessman, President and CEO of Medhall Corporation himself, Maxwell Anders. Thanks for coming on the program again, Max." The camera quickly cut to the man in question, the handsome businessman reacting to the host''s words with a brilliant smile, teeth as pristine as the obviously hand-tailored suit he currently wore. The audience only seemed to clap and cheer more at this, a multitude of female voices making themselves heard. "Once again, Zac, thank youfor having me. Your show is always a delight." Anders raised a hand to the viewers, brilliant blue eyes surveying all of them with that same stunning smile plastered across his face. Some would call it a testament to his wealth, others his genes, but whatever it was that kept Maxwell Anders perpetually looking like he had just stepped off a runway despite being in his mid-thirties, it was undoubtedly working for him. As the audience began to calm down, Young leaned back in his seat, arms outspread over the round table. He turned his head to catch the eye of each one of his guests and opened his mouth again. "Now¡­ normally on this show, we''d spend a few minutes on the lighter side of life. A little bit of humor to take the edge off before another stressful week, you know?" The half-Asian man dropped his smile slightly, expression nearly falling into a frown as he continued. "Unfortunately, this has been a week of big things. Big, big, big things in the world of capes and one special little city has been at the center of it all. I''m talking big name villains getting taken down in spectacular fashion. I''m talking cape terrorism on a massive scale! "For those of you unaware about the incredible series of events coming out from the Northern East Coast in the last two weeks, well¡­" Young leaned forward, the camera zooming in to his face as he gave the viewing audience a wink, "You better listen close as Professor Young gets you up to speed. Now¡­ April 11th 2011 ¨C otherwise known as the day the internet lost its collective minds ¨C is the same day that this went down." At the word ''this'', the wall-length screen behind Young began to play what could only be described as a frantic, violent melee between two capes; one vaguely dressed like a knight in a costume clearly made by amateur hands and the other that could only be described as a massive, silver-scaled dragon, while a myriad of smaller screens surrounding it showcased various news desks and field reporters speaking as alarmingly red headlines scrolled beneath them. "That right there was the very same moment that one of the biggest villains on the East Coast was brought down in crystal clear HD after a fight that took no longer than ten minutes." Young rubbed his hands, a smirk on his lips as he spoke again. "Lung is a special kind of parahuman villain ¨C an A-Class threat according to the PRT, his power allows him to become a massive dragon, one strong enough to face off against an entire team of experienced Protectorate heroes single handedly ¨C so it''s frankly karmic that the rumored "Dragon of Kyushu" was brought down by another cape dressed as a knight on what many authorities believe to be his first night out." The crowd gasped, uncertain applause picking up as the screen showed off footage of a bloody, burned and battered teenager thrusting his hands in the air as he stood over an unconscious Lung. The volume may have been lowered but the sheer excitement and laughter on his ash and blood-covered face was palpable, the words "I. REGRET. NOTHING!" easily audible as he screamed them out. "Now, Lung," Young continued again, "being the leader of a large gang controlling roughly half of the city of Brockton Bay", the large screen shifted once more to display a graphic map of the United States, one that quickly zoomed in to the East Coast and further again to one city not too far from Boston, "apparently had plans if he was ever captured and with the help of a bomb-making cape that had recently joined his gang ¡ª the infamous Cornell Bomber, now going by ''Bakuda'', who was thwarted by Legend and the New York Protectorate ¡ª put those plans into practice and the Brockton Bay Bombings..." the host let out a sigh, shaking his head as he toned down his smile, "...well, if you''ve been watching the news, you know all about that tragedy which rocked the port city of Brockton Bay." For a second or so, Zac Young seemed solemn and calm, but the smile on his face returned in full force immediately after. "Fast forward ten days, past the bombings that terrorized an entire city, past Lung''s break-out of Protectorate holding, past the villain''s threats to unleash a ''Super-Bomb'' capable of disrupting the entire North-Eastern seaboard, past that new hero''s second confrontation with Lung and the capture of his cape-lieutenants... and we. Get. This!" Young snapped his fingers and, in flamboyant fashion, gestured behind himself with both hands. At the very same moment, the wall-sized screen behind him shifted, changing from a looping video of Lung''s roaring visage to something entirely different. "Ladies and gentlemen, the cover of Friday''s issue of TIME Magazine!" A new round of gasps and applause ¨C this time far more enthusiastic and excited ¨C broke out from the viewing audience as they caught sight of the image on-screen, the usual title ''T I M E'' shown in bold, bright red letters and the candid photograph imposed over it. The picture was haunting yet powerful, saddening yet inspiring all the same; a teenager in beaten, battered and heavily tarnished armor ¨C tufts of blond hair visible from underneath his dented helm, and what little of his face was visible was caked in blood and grime ¨C knelt on the ground, clearly wounded as the visible gash under his utterly ruined helm showed but still somehow utterly unaffected as he returned the embrace of the weeping little girl wrapping her arms around his chest. Young brought his hands together in one heavy clap, the audience getting the signal and ceasing the bulk of their noise. "Prodigy, everybody!" He glanced around the table, smile widening just so as he opened his mouth again. "By himself, he upended the ABB, took down their bomb maker, and broke the dragon himself ¨C not once but twice ¨C in the most dynamic series of cape fights ever captured on camera. If you haven''t seen their second duel yet, it''s honestly amazing; better than the first, people. Just, wow." He suddenly grew more serious, smile fading somewhat as he glanced around at his guests. "But getting to the point of all this¡­ this is big news, of course, but it''s rare that big cape news turns out being all good. So," he leaned onto the table, interlocking his hands together, "... everybody here today has some connection with the issue on the table, whether with their experience with capes or..." Young paused to glance from Dr. Goldstein and Dazz D on his right to Maitland and Anders on his left, "...with the city in question. That in mind, I have to ask, what do you think we''re going to see from this new cape?" "W-w-well..." Surprisingly, Dr. Goldstein was the first guest to speak up, one hand producing a handkerchief to pat his forehead as he spoke. "you see, the thing is¡­ well, th¨Cthere''s just a l-lot to unpack here, first of all. This is a new cape and new capes¡­ Well, while they may seem to share little in the realm of commonality, at least relating to powers, personality-wise and considering the actions they take, they are often rather similar and follow an observable pattern of behavior. Naturally, there are variances so you have to understand the specifics of the situation, and in this case-" "Hold up, Doc," A distinctly British voice cut in, the camera expanding out past the sweating professor to include the guest next to him. "You''re goin'' bout this all the wrong way." "I wouldn''t say tha..." Goldstein frowned at yet another interruption, the rest of his sentence fading away to mumbles as a repeated sound of disagreement came from Dazz. The camera panned over to the African Brit fully, the man pushing up his glasses with a finger. "I get what you''re doing, Doc, and I''m not gonna knock it. You''re here to plug your book but you''re ignoring the trees for the forest. But capes have been unpredictable since the OG Quad started throwin'' their weight around." "What does that have to do-" "My point is, Jerry," Dazz continued, turning back to the professor and completely ignoring Goldstein''s attempt to respond, "you''re an academic. I get that. I work with a lot of ''em. Not the best if you''re looking for a laugh or a good time but not bad to have a pint with, if you know what I mean. "I don''t." "Anyway, you''re looking at capes like they''re something you can figure out with a university text. Nah-nah-nah," Dazz shook his head quickly, leaning back in his seat as he stared back at the professor calmly, "Capes are.. Well, they''re somethin'' else. People, yeah, but still forces of fuckin'' nature. More than that, it''s a kid we''re talking about here. We don''t see a lot of those on their own, especially not this strong, nor catching this much attention so soon after a public debut. Ain''t much we could know ''bout ''im." "And that''s where you''re wrong, Mr. Dazz," Goldstein replied, voice slightly firmer than before as he stared the younger man down. "We can determine a good deal about him simply from what we''ve seen over the last two weeks. His age, his personality, his ego." "His ''ego''?" The host took this moment to interject, clearly interested in what Goldstein had to say now. "What do you mean by ''ego'', Professor?" Emboldened by the attention, Goldstein nodded his head excitedly and tapped the cover of his book. "E-ego, yes. It is to be noted that from his recorded interactions with Lung, the police and Protectorate members that not only can we see a notable streak of immaturity coloring his responses and body language, but also an inflated sense of self-importance as well as a general sense of entitlement." The camera zoomed outwards as another guest made themselves heard, Maxwell Anders'' well-mannered voice drawing the attention of the others around the table. "Entitled, is he? Isn''t that going a bit too far, Professor?" Manicured fingers met each other in a steeple over the table, Anders leaning forward slightly as he spoke. "We are speaking of the same young man that risked his life to save over a hundred young women and girls from the pedophilic, rapist and human-trafficking monsters that called themselves the ''Azn Bad Boyz'', after all." The camera cut back to Goldstein, just in time to catch the man wiping his brow. "His actions, being what they are, don''t change the mindset behind them, one that''s common for¡­ a certain subset of capes." The professor shook his head quickly, jowls visibly moving as he did so. There was more than a hint of frustration evident in his tone as he spoke, the man glancing back at the image of the young cape on the screen behind him as if working out a puzzle. "He behaves as if he is deserving of undue praise and adulation for work that would be expected of any Protectorate hero. The little humility displayed when he spoke to the media that Thursday morning was clearly play-acting; It''s notable that he focused on how tired he was and how much work he had done, implying that Brockton Bay''s various emergency services, law enforcement, the PRT and the Protectorate had been sitting on their hands all night. Countless reputable media-sources show that as a laughable insinuation. And yet, while he takes credit for having done more than the legal authorities in dealing with the situation, Prodigy had been remarkably absent throughout the countless tragedies that rocked Brockton Bay throughout the bombings in the days preceding his climactic battle with Lung and later with Bakuda. His mannerisms offer even more terrifying implications; that of an individual that is remarkably self-glorifying and visibly unhinged in h¨C" Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. "Now, let''s not jump to conclusions," Anders spoke up again, hands raised in the universal ''calm down'' gesture. The camera zoomed into the millionaire''s face, catching the faintly disturbed expression Maxwell seemed to be wearing as he glanced at his fellow guests. "There''s no need for such rampant speculation, especially with such damning undertones. He''s still a teenager, after all. A teen that did his best to help the city he likely grew up in. I have a son myself, around the same age as this young man, and I would be enthused that if he developed abilities, rather than employ them for selfish ends, he would instead put them to work in cleaning up our city as Prodigy has. And, professor, forgive me for saying this, but I can''t help but feel that you''re only ascribing negative attributes towards the young man in an attempt to sensationalize the issue." The slight frown on Goldstein''s face grew, the professor more than a little offended at the other man''s words. "There''s nothing sensational about this line of reasoning, Mr. Anders. It''s a common thread among the parahuman population; egos, attitudes, and behaviors one could consider maladjusted¡­ all this despite their intentions. I just want you to know that I''ve spent years of my life studying parahumans and their psychology, so trust me when I say that I can understand that someone lacking my breadth of knowledge in the field," The professor paused to cough lightly into a raised fist before tilting his head over in Anders'' direction, "...might find it somewhat difficult to process." "Guys, could w-" Young began, clearly sensing some rising tension. "While I myself am not a Parahuman Studies major," Michelle Maitland''s voice made itself heard for the first time in the discussion, cutting off their host without a hint of hesitation. "I do feel I have had my fair share of experience around capes, both minors and adults, and frankly, I think he''s the biggest threat to the safety of that city! Just look at him; what do you see other than a child soldier? That is the last sort of figure we need inspiring copycat behavior from other impressionable children who may see him as some sort of role model." She scoffed as the last syllable left her, as if the idea of Prodigy being anything of the sort utterly unbelievable to her. "What do I see when I look at him?" The rapper spoke up defiantly, gesturing to the image of TIME Magazine''s latest cover that projected on the background of the stage, depicting Prodigy embracing the young victim of human-trafficking he had just rescued. Next to it was a still-image taken from Prodigy''s latest confrontation with Lung, standing defiantly atop a wrecked minivan, cape billowing with a shining sword in hand as sparkles danced around him. "I see a compassionate figure, I see a human hero. I see someone out there risking his life who looks like he cares. I see someone I''d love to party with... but that''s not even the point," he finished, smirking widely at the unamused woman across from him. "Also, a role model? That''s your problem with him?" Dazz let out an audible snort, barely holding himself back from a full-blown laugh if his strained expression had anything to say about it. He raised his hands in front of him as Maitland shot him a dirty look, his reaction clearly not appreciated by the older woman. "It''s too late for that already! How many kids do you think have watched that mayhem on video? Both of ''em? He''s on the cover of bloody TIME Magazine hugging a scared little girl he''d just rescued from a damn gang! No matter what you think, most people aren''t going to look past that image." "Are you just going to ignore that Prodigy is also an underaged vigilante? One cannot register with the Protectorate as an Independent until they are of age, after all. He needs the safety of the Wards, if not to protect him, then to protect others from him," she bit out, jabbing a finger at Dazz as if to emphasize that last point. "He needs structure, therapy, and experienced, responsible heroes guiding him to avoid situations like this. Otherwise, we''re just looking at another¡­ another Gavel in the making. No matter how many compassionate photoshoots he has, we''re ignoring the very, very large threat he presents to our youth with his vigilante example." "Listen, Maitland¡­" Dazz slumped back in his seat with half-closed eyes, the man fighting another laugh before he spoke up again. "What you gotta remember is that at one point in time, four badasses basically demanded that the American government sit up and listen. And the government actually sat up and listened, doing somethin'' nobody ever thought was possible¡­ The Quad at the time were in unknown territory." Dazz leaned forward again and clapped his hands together with a mad grin on his face, the shiny metal lining his teeth only adding to his manic expression. "It was the Wild West out there; No Man''s Land. No rules, no script, just flying by the seat of their pants! Hero, Alexandria, Eidolon and Legend were bloody vigilantes and they acted for the greater good of everyone; capes and normies alike. So many others like them ¨C less famous, sure; weaker, no doubt; but still heroes, love ¨C did and still are puttin'' their lives on the line without the support of the law. Don''t just act like ''vigilante'' is some sort of dirty word here, ''right?" "I suppose we''re just supposed to forget the pervasive chaos and violent mayhem of the pre-PRT days then." Dr. Goldstein muttered, almost too low for the microphone clipped to his blazer to pick up. "Vigilantes were done away with for a reason, after all." "Pervasive chaos, was it?" Anders let out a soft laugh as he spoke up again. "Exaggerations help no one, doctor." "I think Dazz is also forgetting that this is a child." Not even acknowledging Anders'' words, Maitland barrelled forward, the woman leaning toward Dazz as she growled out her first sentence. "Likely not even sixteen and willfully, not to mention gleefully, throwing himself into dangerous, violent altercations while laughing and making jokes¡­ even after suffering appallingly gruesome injuries. There''s a reason the Wards are limited in scope and authority; they''re simply not ready for this sort of thing. Mentally scarred children with superhuman abilities are a dangerous combination." "Very good point, Ms. Maitland," Goldstein interjected, nodding thoughtfully as he responded. "Further, are we also choosing to ignore the massive amounts of property damage left behind? Both locations where Prodigy fought Lung suffered immense, irreparable collateral damage. A danger¡­ yes, I could see how one could reach such a conclusion. After all, that is not how any aspiring hero should act." "I mean, a danger... can you really say that, Michelle? Dr. Goldstein?" Young questioned, one perfectly-trimmed brow raised. "The Protectorate has had several notable members with similarly cocky and whimsical attitudes over the years; a few Independents, much the same." "And we can''t act like the guys in the Big Leagues haven''t torn down a few buildings or messed up a city block here and there with a few of the stronger villains. Especially when you throw Brutes like Prodigy and Lung in the mix. It''s a hazard of the job," Dazz chimed in again. The smirk on his face transitioned into a full-blown laugh, the man slapping his table as he nearly bent over. "I can''t believe it, honestly. Mentally scarred children, she says. They''re bleedin'' capes, lady! They''re not normal from the get-go!" Maitland frowned at the black gentleman across from her. "I have met multiple capes through my work. I believe I know how parahumans work very well." "And I know how aeroplanes fly, but I wouldn''t dare tell my pilot what he''s doing wrong." He scoffed again, the sound transitioning into another laugh. "I mean, did you not see that magazine cover? No-no-no, you did see it but you just want to hate on this little man. I stick with what I said before. I really don''t think you understand a thing about capes, if we''re being honest." "If you say so." With a distinct frown on her face, Michelle turned away from Dazz, glancing back over at Young with a severe look on her face. "Look¡­ We don''t know a thing about him. He hasn''t even registered as an Independent with the PRT, yet. For all we know, Prodigy could be working with the Empire 88 ¡ª another prominent villain-group in Brockton Bay with white-supremacist ideologies that has historically been at odds with the pan-Asian ABB that Lung led ¡ª as was first speculated two weeks ago with his first appearance. I mean, he''s young, impressionable and well¡­ I don''t want to offend anyone, but he does fit the description of that gang''s typical recruit." Zac Young''s eyes widened at the last sentence from his female guest, quickly interjecting before Maitland could continue speaking. "...L-let''s pivot. Max, your thoughts?" "I''m not willing to dignify a hateful statement like that with a response." "Hateful?" Her eyebrows rose, the action mimicked by the other guests and the host himself. "Okay, let''s just be open here, Do I have to quote the statistics on Caucasian teenage males with neo-Nazi affiliation on the North-East Coast of the United States within the last two decades?" Maitland continued again, her previous statement leaving the air tense. "As frightening to think of as it is, we could even be looking at one of Kaiser''s literal spawn; I mean, that healer woman in the Empire can give powers like fire control, speed, strength, flight, etc¡­ and Kaiser¡­ Kaiser has a reputation for wearing medieval knight-armor, which is also a theme that Prodigy has taken up, which led people to call him the "White Knight" prior to his declaration of a cape-name. And, well, we''ve all seen how Prodigy uses that sword of his. It appeared out of nowhere, and that was the Empire 88''s former leader, Allfather''s, signature ability. Not to mention Prodigy''s obviously aerokinetic powers ¡ª powers shared by another Empire cape, Stormtiger. The similarities between the boy''s myriad abilities and his attire and that of the villains in the Empire 88 gang are frightening. Frankly, people are assuming that this¡­ misguided, teenager is going to make a world of difference in a city that was going down the tubes anyway." She glanced over at Anders, the man shooting her an amused look. "No offense, of course." "...None taken," Anders replied, seemingly amused at the woman''s words more than anything else. "I have personally spent most of my life and leveraged my company''s resources to directing Brockton Bay back onto the path of progress, but I won''t deny the city has its troubles, especially after the events of the last couple weeks. However, I still think you''re overstating the supposed danger of this singular young man. Judging from the quality of his second costume and the fact that he was able to obtain so quickly after destroying the original, he likely has a capable support system. More than that, his parents are likely a part of it¡­ and if they consider him mature and capable enough to go out on his own¡­" He raised his hands up to his sides in a questioning gesture. "As a mother yourself, shouldn''t that be taken into account?" Maitland let out a slight scoff, closing her eyes for one moment before opening them again to stare between Young and Anders. "You know what¡­ you''re right. It should. The question that should be asked here is what type of parent would allow their son to do this sort of thing? What type of mother could live with herself knowing her s-" "MOM!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The remote clattered onto the floor, back cover flying free and AAA batteries scattering in different directions. Voices from the television continued their back-and-forth, grown adults sniping at each other like people half their age as the host continued to lose more and more control of his guests with each passing remark. It made for excellent television, truly, but the person watching couldn''t find it in herself to notice or care. Sitting on the couch, Susan Veder remained frozen in place, unseeing eyes wide and frightened they remained fixed to the television. She couldn''t¡­ She couldn''t breathe, heart pounding in her chest with the tempo of a frightened rabbit as her fingers gripped the couch cushions like a lifeline. It took a few seconds ¨C far longer than she liked ¨C for the act of breathing to become instinctive again, air coming in quick, short and quiet gasps. "Mo-!" It had been an entire seven days since Susan Veder had heard that gut-wrenching scream on her path back to the lobby. The word was something she responded to instinctively, having gotten used to simply being referred to with some variation of "Mom" for the last fourteen years. It warmed her insides to hear it; the word told her that she was important, needed, necessary in the life of another. It was a special kind of unconscious acknowledgement and... Well, if she had a choice, she honestly doubted that she''d ever want to be referred to as anything else. And yet¡­ It still hurt to hear. The last few days had brought about a new feeling with that word. Abject terror was a new sensation for her and it was not something she ever wanted to feel again. But¡­ "Mo-!" Susan kicked off her blanket, face dropping into her hands as she did her best not to shake. He can''t¡­ She couldn''t afford to have that happen, couldn''t stand to have her little boy see her broken down. He can''t see me like this. Not again. "Mo-!" A violent shudder wracked her body and Susan Veder clamped her mouth shut to push down any sound she might unthinkingly let out. That sound¡­ She remembered the noises coming from the waiting room, the sudden sounds of shrill, fearful screams and general mayhem as the ICU doors burst open and several people made a mad dash toward her as she simply stood there in shock, wondering what was going on. The doors had barely swung closed when she heard it; a sudden scream¡­ My baby. Then, even that sound was cut off by a sound that she couldn''t find it in her to describe. The noise that came after, though, the orchestra of shattering glass and the blinding pain¡­ All of the shaking and weakness of the last four days had nothing to do with the glass explosion nor the injuries she suffered and the numbness of shock ¨C I c- can''t¡­ I can''t feel my arms ¨C followed later by the agony nor everything else that occurred afterwards. That had all seemed to disappear from her mind with Panacea, the young heroine''s touch leaving her whole again. And in some sense, more than whole, having been healed of minor injuries and ailments that she had long gotten accustomed too. Amusingly, her lower back no longer ached as it once did, she noticed. She felt many years younger, and more physically whole than she had been in a long time. But that scream¡­ It had stuck with her more than anything else. Susan let her hands drop from her face, clasping them tightly in front of her until the knuckles began to whiten. She had been unable to push that scream out of her thoughts. It invaded her dreams, her calm moments; everything. The last few days had been relaxing, yes, but they had also been a new sort of terrifying every time her son said that word. "Mom?" Susan blinked quickly, falling out of her haze nearly as quickly as it had sprung itself on her, hurried rustling noises from behind her drawing her attention nearly as quickly as the voice had. That one hadn''t been in her head, echoes of the memory that plagued her thoughts. A smile on her face that was almost instinctive at this point, Susan rose from her huddled position on the couch and turned around just in time to see her baby boy poke his head out of the kitchen. "Mom?" She felt her smile waver with that word again, the expression nearly falling off her face entirely as her little boy ¨C who all of a sudden looked a lot less little, and more like the young man she knew he would become ¨C stared back at her with a look on his face that rang of both confusion and caution. One arm rested on the doorframe, fingers curled around a sauce-stained ladle while his other hand rubbed itself clean on a stained apron. "Mom, you okay?" "...Yeah!" Her smile reaffirmed itself, Susan pushing any feelings of weakness aside as she made her way through the living room. "Yeah, just surprised for a second. I didn''t realize you were calling me, sweetheart." Greg blinked at her and Susan nearly let out a sigh of relief as she watched the concerned look fade from her son''s face to make way for curiosity. "Surprised? About what?" "..." The words halted on her tongue as she stared at her son, the teenager barely more than a few feet away from her now. Looking into a set of blue eyes that seemed oddly brighter now than they did over a week ago, she found herself wondering why she found the words so hard to say. "Well¡­ it''s just¡­" She coughed, mouth suddenly dry with the weight of a lie. "It''s your Uncle Max!" Gesturing over at the television as the camera focused on the millionaire, she announced the words as if it was honestly a surprise to see the man she often considered equal and opposite to her ex-husband in so many ways. "On TV! Isn''t that just really¡­ cool?" "Hmm¡­" She watched the curiosity and interest drain from Greg''s face before her son caught himself and forced a smile onto his own that nearly matched hers for false enthusiasm. "I mean, yeah! Haven''t seen Uncle Max in a while so¡­ yeah!" "A-and we''ve got those invitations from him coming up soon too!" Susan continued, trying to keep up her flagging enthusiasm. "Getting to see your godfather again! Doesn''t that sound like¡­ fun?" "So much fun, Mom!" With both of them trying their best to seem enthused by the upcoming visit to an estranged family friend''s, the once-comfortable silence between them only grew more awkward. Susan stepped past her son very quickly, leaning her head into the kitchen in an attempt to change the subject. "So¡­ what''s my little Master Chef up to in here?" She ruffled his hair as she asked the question, Greg reddening a little bit at both the action and the nickname. He had reacted much the same way that first Thursday afternoon he had decided to cook something for her rather than have her get up¡­ as well as every day afterward. For some reason, he refused to let her cook, insisting on needing the practice and that she had to take it easy for her recovery. Initially, that had been concerning; the extent of Greg''s culinary knowledge had been knowing how to boil eggs or pour himself cereal. But over the last few days, he''d rapidly picked up the basics of cooking, and almost devoured her old recipe books. She''d have been happy about his sudden interest if it hadn''t made her feel awkward being shooed away from the kitchen whenever she tried to help. "It smells¡­ mmm¡­ it smells great! Can I finally ask what''s on the menu?" A mouth full of bright ¨C too bright ¨C white teeth told her that her little diversion had worked, as Greg gestured dramatically with the saucy ladle back towards the pans on the kitchen range. "Of course you can," he replied, glancing over at the stove he had slaved over ¨C why isn''t he sweating? ¨C for the last few hours. "It took me a bit of practice but I spent all day making the perfect¡­ seafood alfredo!" "My favorite?" Susan blinked in legitimate surprise, mouth dropping open finally recognizing that familiar aroma. But¡­ but Greg hates Italian. She glanced back at the expectant grin her son was sending her way, clearly waiting for her reaction. "You made¡­ you made my favorite. Sweetheart..." "Well¡­ w-well, not just yours, you know," her son began to splutter, a little red on his face that most definitely was not from the heat of the stove. "I like seafood, too! You know¡­ with fish," he gestured upwards as if plucking something from a tree, "some crab, little shrimps¡­ just put em in my mouth¡­" Greg kissed his fingers a few times, each time a little longer than the last before he finally finished off with a dramatic chef''s kiss, fingers exploding from his face. "D-e-elicious." "..." Susan cocked her head to the side, simply staring at the boy in front of her. "...too much?" "... Just a little, Greg." Before Greg could slump his shoulders and form that cute, little pout she had grown very familiar with over the years, Susan pulled her son close and enfolded him in a warm hug before he could fight her off. "Still very, very cute though." "... Thanks, mom." "You''re w-welcome, sweetheart."
Cooking Lvl Up! 1¡ú10
Cutscene: PHOtogenic Cutscene: PHOtogenic ¡ö Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards. You are currently logged in, DJ Sparkplug You are viewing: ? Threads you have replied to ? AND Threads that have new replies ? OR private message conversations with new replies ? Thread OP is displayed. ? Ten posts per page ? Last ten messages in private message history. ? Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically. ¡ö Topic: WHITE KNIGHT Part 2: Electric Boogaloo In: Boards ? Places? America ? Brockton Bay Discussion NinjaNinja (Original Poster) (Wiki Warrior) Posted On Apr 22nd 2011: So... the dust has cleared (figuratively), the city is quiet (relatively) and I feel a lot safer (as safe as one can feel). The biggest fight in Brockton Bay history just went down yesterday and I am ready to talk about it. Lung vs the White Knight himself The Second Round, people. Like a week later. And they fucking wrecked the place. It was a brawl. Normally, a fight like this never gets actually seen unless you''re a cape yourself, but I got some great news for you losers. Uber & L33t came through in the clutch for the second time in a row with a banger of a video. Thanks to our surprisingly competent Audio/Visual overlords Uber & L33T for providing access to footage of the throwdown for the low-low price of $50 (a little over twice the price as their ultra-premium sub FYI), we can analyse the shit out of this thing frame-by-frame. (UP Subs get the video for $5, Ultras get it for $10, Premiums are $15, normal subs are 30. Everybody else is $50). Here''s the L33TNation splash page for potential subs. [Link] Here''s the video access page for non-subs. [Link] Now, let''s get to it. (Showing page 2 of 495) ?Chromeon Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: ... $50? What the fuck? That''s illegal. It''s highway robbery. How are you gonna sell a video for fifty bucks? I''m not doing that, no way. EDIT: ...And of course, I paid for it cuz I have no willpower. ?BDClownFucker459 Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: I''ll eat my dad''s own asshole before I sub to that beta boi Leet, even on the lowest level. Sure, it''s 10x the price but fuck it, here''s two twenties and a ten down the drain. ?KillerQueen Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @BDClownFucker459: First of all... what is with that name, dude? Second... jesus, I just bought the video and it''s fucking cherry. Ho my god, it''s beautiful. It''s like the first fight OD''d on steroids and Michael Bay juice. ?DatBouy Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Hoooooly shit. Holy shit, it''s so fucking awesome. It''s so F U C K I N G awesome. Has there ever been a cape fight this massive captured in HD? I''m literally pausing every 5 seconds ''cause it''s so gooooooood. The frame rate is super high, and the quality is amazing, and my bandwidth is somehow able to handle it? And the fight itself!!! HOOO MY GOD ?MalchiorDa4Bidden1 Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Okay, I just became an Uber & L33T premium subscriber, something I never thought I''d say because fucking hell, this is some quality shit! They got close ups, wide angles, zooms, cinematic cuts, and mothafuckin SLO-MO?!! How the fuck? What kind of super-godlike editing skills was L33t blessed with? EDIT: THAT FUCKING KNIGHT GOT EATEN BY LUNG WTF ?GigaMan Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Is the fight really that awesome or is it just hype? Cuz'' people sound like they''re creaming their goddamn jeans and I don''t want to end up wasting money on some mediocre shit. EDIT: Oh my god, I just creamed my goddamn jeans. ?dukeybootie Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: What the actual fuck is this newfag on about? ''Biggest cape fight'' The fuck have you been? Do you not remember Marquis going up against the goddamn Laughterhouse? ?La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Wow, that vid is just fucking... wow. I mean, fuck. Wow. ?Laughterhouse Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @dukeybootie: I don''t remember fighting Marquis, no ?FrenchLaugh (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: I for one always knew that King Arthur would save the day. I did not expect it to be today, though. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4 ... 493, 494, 495 (Showing page 23 of 495) ?KingFatBob Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: This guy''s a fuckin chunni weeb. Bro, what kind of world is this where some lame weeb gets powers and actual normal people don''t? Fuckin ridiculous, Jesus Christ. Hate the fact that I wasted 50 whole bucks to see this shithead again. ?BumBumSugger Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @KingFatBob: I know, right? He''s so fuckin chuuni. Also, he stole Glory Girl''s spotlight for no reason. He could have just hit Lung out of nowhere and ended the fight before it started but he had to show up, wearing BLING, do a stupid chuuni pose and then start fighting. Fuckin weebs, man. ?KirbyDidNothingWrong Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Weebs "lmao fuckin weebs" Weebs (¡¡-_?) ¦î¥Ç¨TÒ»? ??? ?( ? ?? ?)? ?KingKarna Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Wait... why was he wearing bling? ?SaladClock Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @KingKarna: LMAO, dude. I dunno... does it even matter? ?CaptainCanuck Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Wait, did I just see a live-action Henshin? Did we just get Kamen-Ridered? What the hell? Kamen Rider Zero One! WE KAMEN RIDERS IN THIS BITCH! Also, is no one going to question how Prodigy can Henshin? Not even the Sentai Elite could do that! ?Markpocalypse Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: So... Prodigy can''t be Empire, right? I remember someone arguing about this a while back, back when people were calling him ¡°White Knight¡±, but... He was speaking Japanese to mess with Lung. Why would he know Japanese if he was Empire. ?Out of Touch Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: I can''t wait till the real nerds get in here and start jerking off over Lung''s massive fireblasts. Dragon-Man just jumped at least 50 spots in the battle-boards yesterday. ?ThroneofLies Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @Markpocalypse: He could definitely still be racist. He was just repeating basic anime lines. That was probably just to fuck with Lung. ?LegendIsMyDaddy Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: LAAAAAAME. I got excited from the Kamen Rider pose and he let me down. I expected a weeb. This guy can''t even Naruto run. End of Page. 1 ... 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 ¡­ 495 (Showing page 44 of 495) ? MagnusBeowulf1610 Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: This man''s such a goddamn C H A D. Stabbing a goddamn dragon in the head screaming like a goddamn viking. The balls on this guy... I mean, everybody talks about how they could be a hero if they had powers but could you do that same shit tho? Like, I could stop a guy with a gun if I was like Gallant or something but Im not going up against a monster like Lung, man! He''s just swinging a sword like... fuck, ITSSOBADASSS!!!! ?MagnumDong Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @MagnusBeowulf1610: I know, right? Dude''s so badass! Could you imagine how much ass he probably gets? He''s probably fighting them off. I wish I was in Brockton Bay right now just to see him live ?AssGuardian Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @MagnumDong: See him live? He''s not Justin Bieber. Take it down a notch, weirdo. ?MagnumDong Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @AssGuardian: Thanks for your opinion, Mr... *squints* *puts on eye-glasses* *reads carefully* ...AssGuardian. ?thecoolgeek Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @MagnusBeowulf1610: Real Chads don''t even need to use weapons to pretend they are "skilled" real chads kill with kindness ?AssGuardian Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: @MagnumDong: You''re welcome, Mr... *leans in* *wipes screen* *tilts head* ... MagnumDong ?MysticOxide Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Lung took 1 hard loss and didn''t learn his lesson. He needed another for the point to sink in. Mmmhmmm, that''s some delicious irony. ?KissyaHomies Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: Lung x Prodigy fanfic when? ?Sperghetti Replied On Apr 22nd 2011: So... on another thread, somebody mentioned Prodigy''s unrealistically high speed acceleration later on in the fight. Like, it honestly doesn''t make sense even when trying to compare it to either his speed or acceleration earlier on. At some point, even Leet''s Tinker cameras couldn''t keep up with him. Anybody do a calc on that? ?Punkrider Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: FIna-fucking-ly, we''re back on point after page over page of random fucking commentary. Jesus, half of you need to die or stop going off topic. End of Page. 1 ¡­ 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 ... 495 (Showing page 49 of 495) ?Clout God Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @Punkrider: Overreaction, much? Anyway, we should be getting some serious calcs and stop jerking off over the explosions. ?XPlosionFetish Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @Clout God: SPEAK FOR YOURSELF I HAVE MY LOTION AND PLENTY OF TISSUES ?Micah_Demiurgos Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: 22:12 has one drone give a side angle of Prodigy zoomed out so, with that one, it''s possible to put a definite limit on his speed due to how the scene is framed. He moves halfway across the screen to meet Lung, and then just straight up fuckin vanishes off the screen entirely in the next frame. Given his acceleration, he''s probably breaking the sound barrier but there''s no way to be sure, really, given how he uses his powers. ?FTL=HellaFast (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @Micah_Demiurgos: What do you mean, there''s no way to know? Did you not see that shockwave he left behind him? That''s definite proof that he went supersonic. He without a doubt went supersonic there. Are you goddamn blind or something? ?WilliamWanks Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: I heard Lung disintegrated a PRT officer caught up in one of his blasts. Like, the guy just went straight to clumps of ash. Can we calc that? How much energy we talking here with that type of heat? Also... @XplosionFetish: ...ew ?XWingTech (Wiki Warrior) (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @WilliamWanks: Based off of memory and a lot of Tinker-tech debates on plasma/laser weapons (those can take months) it would only take about 3 Gigajoules to vaporize a human body. This is off memory, but I''m pretty sure that''s still accurate. I''d do some more research but I''m pretty sure I''m already on some type of watchlist for all the times I''ve looked up "human cremation machines" or similar things. ?WithAnEye Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @LickyLicky: No, you''re right. I admit it. Lung is clearly durable enough that smashing into those buildings didn''t noticeably injure him in any way, and is also massive enough that he didn''t lose any noticeable speed on his way out. I''m not sure what you want me to say past that. Just take the win, my guy. ?LickyLicky Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @WithAnEye: What I want you to do is explain what you meant by ''durability has nothing to do with it.'' ?WithAnEye Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @LickyLicky: Fine, imagine an M1 Abrams being thrown through a thin brick wall. It goes through the wall because of its inertia, and takes no damage because of its armor (durability). Now imagine a fighter jet being thrown at the SAME wall at the same speed. Because it weighs about the same as the tank, it will go through the wall about as well--BUT, it will be turned into a crumpled pile of scrap metal from doing so. That''s what I mean when I say "durability has nothing to do with it". A very fragile object will go through an obstacle the same as a very durable object, provided they have the same mass. ?NotaBot Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: A speed calc for the first two minutes of the actual fight This one''s iffy due to the camera not being ready for the sudden acceleration and a very visible blur but anyway... Using the torn down lamppost behind Prodigy as a ruler, we see that he moves 1.26 meters in 1/30th of a second which puts his speed at 40 m/s (89.4775 mph) or roughly 1/10th the speed of sound. This same scene was discussed by "certain" people above (to amusing levels of wankery I haven''t seen in a long while). He''s definitely not even remotely close to supersonic here. Later on, maybe but not this scene. End of Page. 1, ... 47, 48, 49, 50, 51 ... 493, 494, 495 (Showing page 57 of 495) ?JesusIsMyOnii-chan Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @WilliamWanks: From the big Wiki - Crematories are most often heated by burners fueled by natural gas. LPG (propane/butane) or fuel oil may be used where natural gas is not available. These burners can range in power from 150 kW (0.5 MMBTU/h) to over 400 kW (1.5 MMBTU/h). The time to carry out a cremation can vary from 70 minutes to approximately 200 minutes. Crematories used to run on timers (some still do) and one would have to determine the weight of the body therefore calculating how long the body has to be cremated for and set the timers accordingly. Other types of crematories merely have a start and a stop function for the cremation, displayed on the user interface. The end of the cremation must be judged by the operator who in turn stops the cremation process. 400 kW over 70 minutes equates to ~1.7 gigajoules. 150 kW over 200 minutes equates to ~1.8 gigajoules. This includes inefficiencies in modern crematoriums, of course. And obviously the energy required to reduce his body armor to ash can''t be calced. His armor disintegrating kind of calls into question whether we can treat this as similar to a cremation process though. ?FeralMan Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @Sperghetti: You mentioned how fast he accelerated, right? If you mean the part at 22:40-22:42, I got your back there. So, I slapped the calculation for Prodigy''s speed that @FlickaBrick did earlier on into a formula for acceleration. [Link] The math can be seen here [Link] on this calculator program one of the mods put together. Ended up with an average speed figure of 197.5 m/s and a final velocity of 395 m/s and an acceleration of 9637 m/s^2. I dunno... I''m prolly way off but that''s what I got. ?GhettoJoe Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @FTL=HellaFast: You''re the one who''s fucking blind. Have you not seen that White Knight''s a goddamn aerokinetic? We can''t use shockwaves as definite proof that he''s gone supersonic. It''d be ridiculous to. ?LegendIsMyDaddy Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @Feral Man: What mach range does this put White Knight at? ?FTL=HellaFast (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @GhettoJoe: No, you''re the one who''s fucking ridiculous. He clearly only uses aerokinesis through his hands. Frame [Link] Frame [Link] Frame [Link] Fuckin'' frame, bitch. [Link] He''s clearly supersonic. ?La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo Replied On Apr 23rd 2011: @LegendIsMyDaddy: About Mach 1.1 You could have looked that up yourself tho, buddy. ?HeatDeath Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @FTL=HellaFast: Okay, so you''re not only just blind but also pants-on-head retarded too... Good to know. Look at this right here. 8:22 - 8:25 Do you see that shockwave when White Knight hits that car roof? Cuz there''s clearly a shockwave and that was far from supersonic speed. You want to claim that he slammed into the rooftop of that wrecked car at that velocity and the roof only buckled slightly, instead of crumpling? Are you lacking that many brain cells? Stop huffing paint and watch the video like you have a working brain, guy. ?BAM Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @Ghetto Joe: @FTL=HellaFast: @HeatDeath: Okay, okay, okay, before we dive into name-calling and other insults, let''s look at another couple of frames for context on speed. Look at this still right here. [Link] This is White Knight dashing out of the way from Lung''s tail swipe. From what Bagrat mentioned before, White Knight stands about 5''9 with the helmet and armored boots adding another 2 solid inches to his height. Judging from that, we can estimate his head height (helmet included) at roughly 25 cm In this image, it is 25 pixels tall. 25/25 = 1 cm per pixel He travels: 100 pixels (measured from right hip - right hip) 100 x 1 = 100 cm traveled = 1 meter He crosses this distance in 1 frame. Only 1 frame. (L33tNation promises all footage is 60 fps) 1/60 = 0.01666666666 Speed = Distance/Time 1/0.01666666666 = 60 m/s That''s a 135 mph/217 kph leap. ?Loquacious_Lizard (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 24th 2011: From what I can tell, Whitey tends to run anywhere between 30-100 m/s during combat with his jumps falling a little under the median point of that with a noted 60 m/s leaping feat. He also has a confirmed 200 m/s speed feat, which suggests that he''s capable of going supersonic. I''m gonna claim it right the fuck now before anyone else. We could be looking at the first fuckin'' bullet timer cape in the Bay. ?NeonPee Replied On Apr 24th 2011: HOW IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT LUNG''S FUCKING TAIL BREAKING THE SPEED OF SOUND? End of Page. 1, ... 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, ... 495 (Showing page 77 of 495) ?AssGuardian Replied On Apr 24th 2011: We¡¯ve been talking about speed feats and wanky calcs for pages. Bullet-timing is an underestimation, even. Stop talking about it. Dude reacted to attacks before Lung even did them at a couple points. I''m thinking combat precog. Definitely has a Thinker Rating. Do we have a PRT note on his rating yet? Tentative or otherwise. ?David_Derrickson (Verified PRT Agent) Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @AssGuardian: It is the stance and policy of the PRT to never release the statistical threat analysis of any cape. Just a reminder. ?FunkyBoy Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @Loquacious_Lizard: First bullet-timer? You gotta be joking... Are we just forgetting about Velocity? ?KickButtowski Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @FunkyBoy: Yes. Yes we are. Velocity doesn''t count. Velocity never counts¡­ @David_Derrickson: Fuck the PRT. We''ll make our own statistical threat analysis... with blackjack... and hookers! Codename: Sir Prodigy, White Knight Location: Brockton Bay Classification: Brute, Mover, Thinker, Striker, Shaker/Blaster, Changer(?) ... That''s all I got. ?BumBumSugger Replied On Apr 24th 2011: Yeah, Velocity''s a bullet-timer, probably, but it doesn''t really matter when he can''t do shit in a real fight anyway. That doesn''t even compare to super-speed Combat Thinker New Hotness Bruteus Maximus Prodigy. If some of these calcs are right, dude can react to things with like a fifth of a seconds worth of warning time. ?XPlosionFetish Replied On Apr 24th 2011: LUNG FIREBALL CALC? LUNG FIREBALL CALC. LUNG FIREBALL CALC!!! ?BubbleButt Replied On Apr 24th 2011: I could go for another Lung calc myself @KickButtowski: Also, why is Changer there? ?XPlosionFetish Replied On Apr 24th 2011: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!! ?Trilby>Fedora Replied On Apr 24th 2011: @XplosionFetish: @BubbleButt: We''ve had TOO many Lung calcs! FUCK LUNG! Why are we even talking about him? He''s about to be Birdcaged! End of Page. 1, ... 75, 76, 77, 78, 79 ... 495 ¡ö Topic: White Knight Activity In: Boards ? Places? America ? Brockton Bay Discussion Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member) Posted On Apr 26th 2011: So. it''s been a bit since everything went down in Brockton Bay and things seem to have settled. Not quite business as usual just yet, but there hasn''t been anything major going down since. The Protectorate have been making themselves more visible in recent days, likely to make up for their lack of sightings during the bombings. However, there have been a ton more sightings of one specific cape in particular. Sir Prodigy (White Knight, to most of you) has been all over the city since the week started. First public appearance since last Thursday was Monday around 3 AM, quelling a small riot in former ABB territory. While there was violence and several gunshots reported by witnesses, no one got seriously injured and there was no collateral damage. No footage was taken of the encounter but there were a few pictures of Prodigy taken at the scene. A bit blurry, but still good. [Link] [Link] [Link] [Link] [Link] About two hours later, Prodigy was spotted pulling a solo search and rescue a few blocks down from his earlier location. From what I can piece together from PRT reports and emergency service chatter, one of Bakuda''s bombs (one of the glass ones) was left undetonated and only finally activated that morning. PRT is still unsure as to why that bomb was planted in an ABB-controlled area, or in a residential neighborhood. Regardless, Prodigy was first on the scene and was already pulling survivors from the collapsed townhouses by the time emergency services arrived. There were several casualties, but Prodigy managed to recover those as well. Pictures and video footage of that are linked below. [Video] [Picture Gallery] (Showing page 10 of 59) ?MagnusBellum Replied On Apr 27th 2011: Extra sighting from this morning! Bunch of tatted Asian fuckers wrecked and robbed this old couple''s pawn shop just a couple blocks off of downtown, beat them up and stole some money and appliances and shit. Then they tried to get away in a fucking Jeep or something, just tearing down the street like maniacs Out of knowhere, White Knight just smashes into the front of the goddamn car, legs fuckin wrecking the whole front and crumpling shit in like it was a beer can. The guy just steps out of the wreck, dropping out the engine and just hauls each one of the fucks out of the car and drops them on the street till the police got there. Fuckin'' A, dude! ?CaptainCanuck Replied On Apr 27th 2011: @MagnusBellum: Ooh, I heard about that one. Talk about a badass. ?MelaninMachine Replied On Apr 27th 2011: "The Protectorate have been making themselves more visible in recent days, likely to make up for their lack of sightings during the bombings." It''s obvious what they''re doing, I guess. We can''t really fault them for it, though. Am I wrong? ?YogaFire Replied On Apr 27th 2011: @MagnusBellum: Uh, I heard about that. Should we really be cheering that on? Prodigy almost caused a huge car accident doing that. I mean, he even messed up the street too and caused a huge mess. Those four guys also needed serious medical attention after that. I think one of them almost had his spine broken... or at least something like that. I respect what he¡¯s doing with all the search and rescue around town and whatever but I have to ask: If he can¡¯t be a hero without hurting people, should he be a hero at all? Like, breaking jaws and shattering ribs is going WAY too far in my opinion. That''s messed up. Hero or cop, excessive force isn''t cool, man. ?BelieveIt Replied On Apr 27th 2011: I know the girl whose house got bombed. I don''t even know why they got attacked. Makes no sense, honestly. Her dad''s just a fish truck driver and the guy''s even Chinese too. RIP. ?BitchBreaker (Banned) Replied On Apr 27th 2011: [This post has been redacted for violation of forum guidelines] ?DildoShaggins Replied On Apr 27th 2011: @MelaninMachine: Nah, you''re right. They probably had reasons for being covert last week anyway. We gotta trust that the Protectorate knows what they''re doing. ?BloodyBrains&Balls Replied On Apr 27th 2011: Ughh, only the tenth page and thread''s already crawling with PRT shills. ?VandaLass Replied On Apr 27th 2011: @BloodyBrains&Balls: No u ?LupineBoy Replied On Apr 27th 2011: @VandaLass: How much does being a PRT shill pay? Asking for a friend End of Page. 1, ¡­ 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, ... 57, 58, 59 (Showing page 12 of 59) ? MacGoogles The Frog Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @YogaFire: Talk about first-world problems. "Oh my god, they''re being too rough with the violent criminals. He didn''t even give them a massage or ask how their day was. Such a savage." STFU @LupineBoy: I hear it''s better than minimum wage. Comes with dental too. ?YogaFire Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @MacGoogles The Frog: Is it wrong for me to feel like a superhero should know and understand what "appropriate force" means before going after law-breakers? Sorry for having common sense, I guess. ?magnum oPUSS Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @Bitchbreaker: Wow... that''s fucking gross. What the hell is wrong with you, man? Are you literally a psycho? ?Retard_Whale Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @YogaFire: You done being a little pussy? Huh, you think whining about "fair treatment" for scum makes you a better person or something? ?YogaFire Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @Retard_Whale: Alright then, common sense is "being a pussy". Good to know. ?No1InParticular Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @BitchBreaker: The fuck is this? The fuck is that? What the fuck is wrong with you? ?NukeOfHonesty (Temp Banned) Replied On Apr 28th 2011: [This post has been redacted for violation of forum guidelines] ?MeterMaid (Moderator) Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @NukeOfHonesty: I would like to ask why you felt graphic description of pedophilic acts towards an underage cape was within the bounds of PHO forum rules, but I don''t think I''d like the answer. ?LickyLicky Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @NukeOfHonesty: How would that work, even? You''re a guy. You don''t even have those parts. ?BigMeg Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @LickyLicky: Man, people will do anything for famous people. Capes, especially. End of Page. 1, ¡­ 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, ... 57, 58, 59 ¡ö Topic: Prodigy Speculation Thread In: Boards ? Places? America ? Brockton Bay Discussion Jesus-Kun (Original Poster) Posted On Apr 28th 2011: You know what it do. Post your thoughts and theories about Prodigy. Have some explanation to why you think whatever you think. Don''t go too crazy either. Let''s not get this thread locked, okay. (Showing page 4 of 36) ?ChrisTheLonely Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @XxVoidCowboyxX: Woahhhhh You Got 2000+ Hours In Parahumans Online? 1000+ in World of Heroes??? That¡¯s So Crazy, Dude. How Many Hours Of Talking To Some Hoes Do You Got? ?InternetFlexing Replied On Apr 28th 2011: (¨i_¨i)(¨i_¨i)(¨i_¨i)(¨i_¨i)(¨i_¨i)(¨i_¨i) ?MegaMilkers Replied On Apr 28th 2011: ?BlankSpace Replied On Apr 28th 2011: Damn, it''s so easy to dunk on Void. Everytime he sticks his stupid head into the boards, he just gotta say something stupid. @XxVoidCowboyxX: Well, I prefer the phrase "Inhale My Richard" but okay¡­ ?InsertNameHere Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @BlankSpace: What did he even say this time? ?JustAnotherMike Replied On Apr 28th 2011: Not sure. I think he deleted the first post. Whatever it was, it had to be stupid as hell. ?[mystery mark] Replied On Apr 28th 2011: Yeah, it was some dumb-ass speculation about White Knight. Someone asked him for a source (like it wasn''t from the depths of Void''s basement-dwelling ass) and the shithead replied with: *heavy breathing* "Uhhh, I- I- uhhh, I play a lot of Parahumans Online and World of Heroes and I can tell things like that because of blah blah blah nerdshit" Fuckin idiot. ?DatBoi Replied On Apr 28th 2011: To be fair, World of Heroes is an awesome MMO tho. The remake just blew Parahumans Online out of the water, not that something like that is hard to do. ?DeadZone Replied On Apr 28th 2011: Why are we even humoring this guy? Like, wasting any amount of time on Void is too much. He''s honestly just trolling. Ignore him! ?BulkandSkully Replied On Apr 28th 2011: White Knight is 100% Armsmaster''s secret love child with Brandish. Only thing that makes sense, honestly. End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 ... 34, 35, 36 (Showing page 8 of 36) ?Loquacious_Lizard (Veteran Member) Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @XxVoidCowboyxX: I really don''t want to believe you so I''m not gonna but even if I did, it''d be hard to trust what you''re saying because I don''t think that you could ever stop yourself from bragging online that you had powers for a day, let alone several weeks. In conclusion, ya bullshit. ?ScrubTier Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @XxVoidCowboyxX: Yeah, and Eidolon''s my real daddy. Pull the other one. ?LordDick Replied On Apr 28th 2011: Can we get a permaban for Void, please? ?KillingmeHardly Replied On Apr 28th 2011: I heard that Prodigy might have been working with Uber & L33t this whole time. That''s how the guys knew to have their camera drones ready to catch the action. Plus, that sword of his is definitely not normal either. ?dukeybootie Replied On Apr 28th 2011: The sword works like that cause of his Striker power, genius. It''s not a Tinker sword. Did you see any tech on it? Any moving parts? No! Just cause something glows doesn''t make it Tinker shit. ?LemonDropItLikeItsHot Replied On Apr 28th 2011: The Uber & L33t connection does make sense. The two losers are raking in so much money right now that it''s believable that they could be working with WK. ?GstringGirl Replied On Apr 28th 2011: I don''t think that Prodigy would work with those guys. They''re villains, after all. They go after heroes and hurt people. Why would they work with one? ?SecretSquirrel Replied On Apr 28th 2011: We can''t trust Prodigy just cause he says he''s a hero. I got a source who told me he''s 100% Bonafide Empire. First, he can create swords out of nowhere like Iron Rain and AllFather (possible son of Iron Rain, hidden after her death to keep him safe from Marquis?) and is also aerokinetic like Stormtiger too... Stormtiger x Iron Rain lovechild? Second, Uber & Leet have been putting up recruitment posts all over the PHO Personal board, looking for normies and capes to join up. (Possible popularity-assisted takeover of the Bay?) Third, all the money Uber & Leet made. Sure, the footage got leaked but that didn''t happen till like Monday morning and their video had at least 5 million views by then. Even if we''re counting their subs and ignoring rewatch numbers, they had to have made at least 20 million from the video buys and that is a very low projection. Likely numbers could be double that¡­ or more. This is a major conspiracy ?PureFree Replied On Apr 28th 2011: @SecretSquirrel: ¡°White Knight is empire¡± Good news to me. End of Page. 1, ¡­ 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, ... 34, 35, 36 ¡ö Reason for Sudden Hiatus Hello everyone. Sorry for the long silence, but I had run into some issues IRL that kept me from writing for the last few weeks. My financial and housing situation was very uncertain, to say the least, and I didn''t have the time nor headspace to get any writing done for any of the stories. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Now, though. My housing situation has been handled and my personal life is now back in order, relatively speaking. However, now I''m all good and ready to get back to it. Sorry for the long wait but just a little while longer and Greg Vs should update again. END OF HIATUS A new chapter will be posted within 24 hours. The hiatus is now officially over, or it will be at least, as soon as I post. I know the hiatus was long. It went on far longer than I expected. I''ve just been physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted for months. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. A good portion of the reason the hiatus even went on past January could be filed under "girl troubles" and "family issues." That would probably encompass all of it. However, you don''t care about that. You''re here for a story and not the one about my life. Thank you for being patient, though. I hope to reward that with quick updates. Lag 6.1 Lag 6.1 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C A pair of eyes opened slowly, bright light shining directly at them making the action more labored than it had to be. Those same bright blue eyes fluttered once¡­ twice¡­ a few times more as consciousness took hold. As she lay on her side in her soft king-sized bed, it took more than a moment for Susan Veder to come to terms with the idea that she was actually awake as she faced the red light of her alarm clock, the numbers ''8:35'' easily decipherable even as groggy as she was. The early morning sunlight from her window beamed down directly on her face, her curtains open just enough to let in a single shaft of said light. Her ears perked up as another moment passed, the sound of subtle movement from behind her drawing her attention and drawing her further into the waking world. She rolled over in her bed, turning away from the sun and the light of her alarm clock to face the other end of her room. Almost immediately, her eyes widened. "Hey." The single syllable was accompanied with a wave and a smile, both innocent as anything else. Innocent but¡­ unexpected. In fact, everything about this was. "Greg?" The word came out groggily, sleepiness still clinging to Susan as she did her best to rise from her bed. Propping herself up one elbow, she stared hard at the figure sitting in the loveseat next to her bedside table, as if to convince herself that she was not simply dreaming. "Greg?" "That''s the name you gave me, yeah." She blinked again as her tired mind took a moment to process the joke, then once more in mild confusion. Susan raised a hand to rub her eyes and let out a long yawn as she did so. "Swe¡­" She paused to let out another yawn, the same hand lowering to cup her open mouth. "Sweetie¡­" "Mornin'', mom," her son spoke up again, suddenly much closer than he was before. Susan''s eyes widened slightly as Greg neared her, her son somehow having moved from the other end of the room to the foot of her bed in between eye-blinks. She was silent for a moment, too stunned to return her son''s greeting as she noticed something in his hands, a tray that she couldn''t recall seeing moments ago. The blonde woman shook her head, rubbing her eyes one more time to clear whatever grit remained. A tired smile on her face, she glanced back up at her son. "Good morning, sweetie." A slight groan left her lips as she raised her arms above her head in a languid stretch, mouth expanding as she let out a gaping yawn just seconds into it. "Nggghh¡­ what time is it?" "8:38, if you wanna get technical, but honestly I prefer..." Greg paused for a moment, a smile beaming as he stepped forward and around her bed until he was at her side. "Breakfast time, mom, the most important meal of the day¡­ in bed," he added as an afterthought, smile faltering only slightly at the stilted continuation. Susan Veder shook her head slightly, the action meant for nothing more than to shake away some of the grogginess she still felt. The movement was almost unnecessary, the woman already having been shocked by the knowledge of how late it was. Almost 9 and just waking up, she noted with slight bitterness, the emotion directed at her smiling and oblivious boy. Three hours wasted. Sick guilt warred with it an instant later, Susan unable to hold the prior feeling whenever it came to him. Not his fault. Mine. Mine. Attempting to take her mind off her own thoughts, she focused her gaze on the black dinner tray her son held, the smell easily drawing her attention anyway. Greg''s smile was still affixed on her as he stood there. "You hungry?" Susan found herself nodding as she continued to stare blankly. The breakfast part wasn''t so much a surprise to her, all things considered, seeing as how Greg had been busy in the kitchen every morning, afternoon and night over the last week. In fact, almost every time Susan had made her way downstairs every morning, it was to the smell of an almost perfectly-cooked breakfast. The only real surprising part of this was the "in-bed" portion of it all. "Very..." she began as she sat up straighter against her pillows. In response, her son gently placed the tray on her lap. She kept one bleary eye on Greg as he stepped back a bit, her left hand busy rubbing the other one free of the usual sleep crust. "What''s the special occasion?" "Hmm?" A confused glance from Greg was all Susan received in response, a familiar expression but one she couldn''t deny as unmistakably adorable. "...special?" "I mean, breakfast in bed?" she continued, lifting one of the bell jars on the tray to expose a plate full of piping hot scrambled eggs and a small mound of sausage links, steam still visible and wafting off of them. "It''s not my birthday¡­ and I''m pretty sure it''s not Mother''s Day either." "I can''t do something nice for my mom, now?" Greg replied, hand over his heart in mock outrage. It might have been enough to hint at the concept of sincerity if he had managed to wipe the smile off his face as he did it but that was asking for far too much. "What has the world come to where it has to be a holiday for the best mom in the world to know her son cares?" Susan paused, a forkful of well-prepared eggs keeping her mouth occupied for a few seconds as she chewed. "Not that I don''t appreciate all you''ve done, sweetheart," she paused again, an eyebrow raised. "Especially all the cooking these last week but¡­ I should be the one taking care of you." "But why¡­" Greg shook his head but his smile didn''t waver as he answered back, "Why can''t I take care of you?" "Because I''m your mother," Susan answered him back, a hint of finality in her tone. And I''m tired of having you treat me like an invalid went unspoken, but the white-knuckled grip with which Susan held her fork spoke for her nonetheless. "I mean, I''m pretty sure you are, yeah," Greg chimed in obliviously, a faux-pensive look on his face. He held a look with his mother, the older blonde ignoring her food for a moment to fix her son with a blank glare. Unperturbed, he gave a slight nod and continued with, "It''d be pretty hard to fake that video you showed me, I guess." Susan let her fork clatter onto her plate with the slight tink-tink of metal on porcelain and allowed a wry smile to cross her face, if only to humor her little boy. "...Funny." "I thought so too," her son replied, head tilted slightly to the side as he did so. She managed to catch the sight of white teeth for an instant before Greg pushed his grin back into a closed-mouth smile, a common occurrence over the last seven days. Odd, but not worth bringing up, Susan could only remind herself again. It was one of many things that she had noticed as odd about her son''s behavior over the last week; Greg''s newfound habit of covering up his grins was far lower on the totem pole than his incredible cooking skill that seemed to have sprung up overnight or his tendency to walk around shirtless all of a sudden. All of those absolutely paled in comparison to Greg''s sudden growth spurt. It was all very confusing and uncomfortably familiar, but they were nothing that Susan felt needed to be brought up in conversation anytime soon. Not without pushing my baby boy away. She shook her head again, jaw set as she pushed those uncomfortable thoughts down and forced a smile again. Nothing''s worth that. Glancing down at the tray as she lifted another bell jar to expose a rasher of crispy bacon and what had to be sauteed mushrooms¡­ How much time did he have down there? She couldn''t help but wonder once more. Raising her head from her plate again, the blonde voiced her question towards her son, Greg''s expression shifting towards nervousness as he replied, "W-well¡­ I had to shower and get ready first, so I had to rush a bit, y''know. So, about thirty minutes?" Greg let out an awkward chuckle, his smile losing some of it''s confidence as he continued. "Give or take five minutes, I guess?" "Oh¡­" Wait... Susan frowned slightly for a moment, frown only deepening as something important suddenly made its way to the forefront of her mind. Something far more important than breakfast. Her gaze flicked down and to the right, eyes locking on to the jet-black alarm clock resting on her bedside table.. Red numbers stared back at her. ''8:40'' All traces of tiredness immediately left her, replaced with shock and the sort of anger reserved for all exasperated mothers everywhere. Susan Veder whipped her head back to face her son, face already set in a stern glare as she prepared to tear into him. "Wha-" You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. However, that wasn''t to be. All the anger in Susan''s expression bled away as it was replaced with yet more shock as the single mother found herself alone in her bedroom, her door wide open and the sound of hurried footsteps on her wood floor already fading away. It only took a second more for her to hear the shouted flurry of words from the bottom of the stairs, "Notimelateforschoolsorryloveyoulotsbyyyyyyyeeeee!" One second more and the anger and exasperation came flooding black. "GREGORY LUCAS V-" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The door slammed right behind him as Greg leapt from his doorstep and landed just a foot away from the sidewalk with easy grace, knees barely even bending as he touched down from the nearly fifteen-foot jump. The almost-nonexistent weight of his backpack slightly throwing off his center of balance, Greg spun in place to offset the rest of his momentum and struck a pose in front of his house like a flamboyant 80s rockstar. Per. Fec. Tion. "Mornin'', Gregory." The teenager stumbled forward despite having been frozen in place and, a moment later, glanced up with an awkward smile as he turned toward the voice that called out his name. One hand rubbing the back of his neck, Greg took a few steps forward onto the sidewalk proper and waved over in the direction of his neighbor, the old man just one house over lazily watering his lawn. Sprinkler system be damned, the man would do it anyway. "How you doing, Mr. O''Donovan?" The older man nodded over at Greg, the one hand not occupied by the hose in his hand raised in Greg''s direction in a lazy hello. "I''m doing just fine," he replied back, voice drawling slightly. "You, though... aren''t you running a good bit late for school?" Greg found himself holding back a snort, biting his lip to avoid the laughter that threatened to spill out at his neighbor''s choice of words. Clapping his palms together, the teenager brought them up in front of his face and replied, "Yeah, uh... funny you''d say that, actually..." As if not hearing Greg''s attempt at a reply, Mr. O''Donovan continued speaking. "I saw the bus you''d usually take down the street pass by an hour ago when I came out to top up my birdhouses. And two more buses passed by since then." He shook his head, garden hose in hand moving in time with him. "Next one''s not for another thirty minutes." "Already knew that, by the way, Mr. O'' Donovan," Greg shot back, doing his best not to be rude to the old man as he let him drawl on, "but thank you, anyway. Gonna catch a ride once I head out the neighborhood." "Alrighty then..." The old man nodded at Greg again as he paused to release the pressure valve on his garden hose, the stream of misty water coming from his garden hose immediately fading to nothing. "You be caref-" Before the septuagenarian could even get his whole sentence out, Greg was already a third of the way down the block, the young blond moving at what he felt could be considered a leisurely jog. Fast as he was, the teenager wasn''t far enough to avoid hearing the old gardener call him a "real oddball, that one." The teenager snickered to himself as he galloped down the block and made a sharp corner towards the long winding street leading out of his neighborhood. "Man, if he knew..." Greg snickered again, face screwed up as he let out little snorts of laughter. "I mean, he''d probably have a heart attack, actually. That''d be soooo funny, though." Shaking thoughts of possible elder abuse out of his head, regardless of how humorous it would be, Greg glanced from side to side as he ran across the large street just outside of his neighborhood a few short minutes later. Satisfied that no one was around to see him, he finally began to pick up a bit more speed as he rushed down a forested side path that he knew would take him into the city proper. Let''s kick it up a notch. He ducked his head down and began actually pumping his arms, lower body almost a blur as he raced through the barely-trodden path through Brockton Bay''s denser foliage. An actual smile crossed his face, one he could taste as real, even though it was a good bit smaller than the usual expression that usually covered his face. Man, haven''t had a moment to really just take this in since... Greg''s smile dimmed slightly as he zipped through a break in the path and jumped over a fallen tree. Well, since before two weeks ago, at least. Been way too busy. Busy was a word he could use, he supposed. Although, considering most of his days were spent lounging around the house or taking care of the cleaning and cooking while his mom rested and recovered, he supposed that it would be better to describe his nights as the busy ones. Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping-p- Greg shook his head as if to shake away the phantom remnants of a maddeningly familiar sound that only served to haunt his nights. I could have been sleeping but noooooo. Noooo, we can''t let ol'' Greg have one peaceful night at home in his own bed. That''d be asking way too much. The blond huffed to himself in slight annoyance but his mood brightened back up a moment later as both of his sneakered feet left dirt and sparse grass and met the cracked edge of a sidewalk. Greg skidded to a quick halt, eyes flicking from side-to-side to take in the environment around him. Already here, huh? Nice. The blond allowed himself a nod as he recognized the area, a sort-of happy medium between the quiet suburbs and the more urban areas of Brockton Bay; not dangerous enough to be worried about, but still not safe enough to be walking around in the middle of the night if you could manage it. Clustered with brownstones, townhomes, big-name stores and various gas stations, the area itself was just a few minutes away from his neighborhood if you took a shortcut through the woods. That is, moving at his inhuman pace. For anyone else, roughly the better part of an hour. Not everyone can be super, I guess, Greg thought to himself as he began to stride across the near-empty street, not enough cars on the street to make him even worry about checking for traffic. Not that I have to even bother looking out for cars anyway. Even still, the blond glanced around as he walked across the crosswalk, unable to help but note how empty the main street actually was. Very few people were actually out and about, even considering that it was almost 9 AM already. He knew the reason, of course, considering he lived the reason. Even then, it still hurt to see the city like this. As he reached the other side of the street, Greg ducked into a nearby alleyway as quickly as he could without drawing suspicion from the few people still milling about. Reaching the center of the filth-ridden alley, the teenager craned his head up and smirked, finally happy to be around buildings with some actual height to them. Without wasting another moment, the teenager leapt. A single jump. Forty feet up. It was just a second later that Greg landed feet-first on a grimy rooftop, one hand running through his growing mane of hair. Four stories, one jump, His smirk grew slightly as he mused over the thought. Let''s see how much air I can get on the way to school. The blond teen bent his legs, hands at his sides as a sudden breeze began to pick up around him. As if that wasn''t enough, his lower body began to glow as well, the wind swirling around enough to ruffle his hair and make the jacket he wore flutter wildly. His smirk burst into a full-blown grin as a sudden thought came to mind. "Heh... air." With a sound like an air cannon, Greg Veder launched himself into the sky. "WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "-one though a lot over the last few weeks and I don''t intend to make that harder for you over the next few months. Of course, we''re still required to stick to the curriculum in the wake of parahuman disasters but I do plan on blah blah blah blah blah... blah blah blah blah blah..." The substitute teacher standing in front of the dusty blackboard continued to drone on to a class of students that could barely drudge up the motivation to care about him, his name or even any of the words leaving his mouth as he continued to drone on with as sympathetic of an expression that he could manage. Wannabe actors doing sub work now? Weak shit. Even with the fact that what was being said would be something they would have likely been excited to hear in any other circumstance, none of them felt like listening. The few that weren''t talking with their friends in hushed tones, simply stared blankly at the teacher or out the window. For most of those, their reasons for not paying attention stemmed from actual boredom or simple distaste for the school environment after roughly two weeks without having to attend. For a few others, they had far more on their minds than worrying about their grade point averages. "-s I will be replacing Mr. Pickney till the end of the school year, I want to make it clear that I don''t intend to replace him in your minds. You probably had a connection to your Biology teacher and I know he cared about blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah-blah-blah extra credit and blah blah blah..." This guy needs to get with the program, I fuckin'' swear, One student sitting at the very back thought to himself. His chin sat atop his arm as he rested his head on his desk and glared viciously at the reed-thin man half-sitting, half-leaning on the desk that still held all their old teacher''s possessions and knick-knacks. He looked more like a senior than he did an actual teacher, the pencil mustache he sported only accentuating how waifish he actually looked. Blah blah blah, niggas don''t care. Just hand out the classwork and shut the fuck up. Axel "Sparky" Ramon rarely found himself in a mood that he could consider good. None of those rare moods ever occurred within the halls of Winslow High School. This was especially true considering this was his first day back. Heading into homeroom with a certain blond nowhere in sight was irritating enough, but Sparky could deal. He could. Honest. He knew Greg wasn''t dead and he knew that he definitely wasn''t hurt, so it wasn''t like he was worried, right? His mood only worsened as homeroom went by and Greg Veder remained nowhere to be seen. It wasn''t like he had been hoping to see his best-fucking-friend after two whole weeks of not actually being around each other. It certainly wasn''t that Sparky thought seeing Greg would make him feel less annoyed with the world. No, definitely not. Either way, Sparky didn''t care. It wasn''t like the blond hadn''t bothered to stay in contact with him much over the last week, barely responding to his pings on PHO and the shitload of messages Sparky had sent. No, it wasn''t even like Greg had even tried to message him first, Sparky having to make every single move when he felt like hearing from his best friend who had just gone through a fucking trauma train... Again, not his problem. Not. His. Problem. Why did it feel like his problem, though? Fuck me, right? Fuck me for being a good friend. Fuck me for ever fucking trying to even help that ungrateful piece of... The olive-skinned teen closed his eyes and unclenched his fists as he let out a long, hopefully calming breath breath through his nostrils. Even as he tried to center himself the way his mom had taught him, the sub continued to drone on, introducing himself like any single person here actually cared what his fucking name was or where he went to college. Jesus, would you just shut the f- "How''s it shaking, Mr... Waaaaaait, you''re not Mr. P." A familiar voice made itself heard, the heavy classroom door swinging shut at the very last syllable as if to act as punctuation. The class was jarred into paying attention, Sparky included. "Umm... Who are you?" "Name''s Greg. Veder. You?" "Oh, I''m your new blah-blah blah..." A pair of amber eyes opened again, focusing their usual glare towards the front of the room again as a figure walked to the back of the room. In no time at all, he stood there, in an unzipped royal blue hoodie, blue jeans and a white shirt that had the word "shirt" in simple black lettering in the center. "Yo, bro! Long time no see!" Blue met gold as both friends locked gazes for the first time in roughly two weeks. A smile A scowl. "I don''t speak to shitheads that ghost me." Greg raised an eyebrow, an awkward smile on his face as he began to respond. "See¡­ uh, the thing about that¡­" Yeah, Sparky thought to himself, his pronounced frown lessening. Still the same idiot. Greg & Sparky Hey guys, I just wanted to post this picture that a friend of mine from Twitter drew of Sparky and Greg. There''s a lot more media of the characters on Spacebattles and Sufficient Velocity, and I rarely post them here because they''re so much harder to translate unlike SB where it''s pretty much insert and send off without needing five hundred words of accompanying writing. Anyway, I hope you like it. I myself am a big fan of the art style, because even though Sparky''s not perfect and he looks a bit more masculine than I envision him, Greg is captured almost perfectly. His physique has improved since Sparky last saw him, as Greg used to be two inches shorter than Sparky, now stands a good inch-and a half over him at 5''10". His physicality is also tied directly into his stats, something I haven''t mentioned here before but have mentioned on SB and SV forums. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. He is denser than he should be for his build and height among other things. His rapid growth in INT and the way his brain processes information is represented in his neurological structure, etc. BTW, the next chapter should be up by Monday. Lag 6.1b Lag 6.1b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "So, you feel like talking now?" The question left the mouth of a rather-annoyed Sparky as both he and Greg left their second class of the day, the two almost having to force their way through amid a crowd of others clamoring to escape the over-eager substitute. As usual, Sparky wore a tired frown and Greg sported a perky grin that seemed almost unchanging. Even after everything else, that much was the same. Still, Sparky was no idiot. In fact, the long-haired boy was rather perceptive in general, magnitudes more so when compared to the blond boy usually at his side. Both wore roughly the same outfit ¨C a zip-up hoodie over a t-shirt, along with a pair of jeans and sneakers ¨C as they strode through the halls of Winslow toward their next class. Yet despite their similar outfits, radically different color schemes aside, Sparky knew things couldn''t be more different. He knew things had changed; with Greg''s attitude, with his powers, with¡­ them. But now, with them in school together again and both of them moving at the languid pace of most teenagers on their way to somewhere they''d rather not be, they had plenty of time to open up and have a conversation about everything. And he did mean everything. His own mistakes, included. "Talk about what?" Well. Sparky had the time, or at the very least, the inclination to talk. Greg didn''t seem to share that with him. To be honest, the super-powered teenager seemed to have a vested interest in keeping his head on a swivel, the blond glancing from side-to-side as the two made their way through the crowded hallway. From the way his blue eyes seemed to sparkle, it was almost as if he was drinking in the atmosphere and sights of Winslow the way a tourist would a new landmark. That was enough to confuse Sparky as he stayed silent, stewing over the way Greg had so casually deflected his question without a second thought. Don''t punch him, was the prevailing thought in his head. Don''t punch him. You''ll probably break your fucking hand or something. Despite himself, his right hand still curled into a fist. Steeling himself, Sparky opened his mouth to ask another question only Greg to all of a sudden step forward in front of him and spin, the blond transitioning to a backwards walk, blue eyes level with his own amber and in perfect sync with Sparky''s own pace. Sparky blinked, eyes widening in clear surprise as Greg maneuvered through the hallway way with perfect ease, narrowly avoiding students in his path that he couldn''t even see, all the while smiling like a giant idiot. It was even more impressive in Sparky''s eyes given that the hallway was more crowded than the school usually was, much in fact like their last class had been. It was to no one''s surprise that Winslow High was suddenly home to a great many more students than usual. The bombings of two weeks ago had left at least two other high schools within the city pretty much useless for the rest of the school year and all those students¡­ Well, they had to go somewhere. "What are you..." Sparky hissed the words as he leaned in slightly. Well aware that a few eyes were now on them if only from curiosity with Greg''s odd display, he didn''t allow himself to stop walking. "What the hell do you think you''re doing?" "Walking." There was that grin again, the playful spark in his friend''s eyes that was more than familiar. "Why?" "Stop. It." He hissed the words again. Patience already wearing thin, Sparky forced himself to suppress the impulse to grab Greg by his hoodie and drag him off to an empty stairwell or unused classroom. If not to talk, then to at least keep him from acting so blatant with¡­ well, with whatever his powers were. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. The blond seemed to appear confused. "Walking?" And just like that, he did. "Wha-" Sparky jerked forward at his friend''s sudden halt, nearly tipping over until a surprisingly gentle yet unyielding hand caught his shoulder and pushed him back up. The action was quick and deceptively smooth, the other boy barely noticing he had been righted until he blinked a moment later. Amid the bustling, noisy hallway, Sparky simply stared at his friend for a few long moments, ignoring the other students shooting them dirty looks as they remained standing in the middle of the hallway. That was smooth as fuck. "Okay, first... Fuck you, brah," he began. "Fair." Fair, he says. Sparky gave a non-committal grunt in return, before continuing on. "Second, thank you for that." "Aw, shucks, man, no problem. It''s what I''m here for." Once again, Sparky felt that firm grip on his body, only far more encompassing this time, Greg suddenly wrapping an arm around his friend''s shoulder and they began moving along the hallway again. "So, what was it that you wanted to talk about anyway?" Sparky rolled his eyes, frown deepening slightly as he sped up his strides to remain at Greg''s side without being pulled along. Glancing up ever so slightly to look Greg in the eye, he replied sarcastically, "Oh, so now you wanna talk?" "Well, I figured you had a lot on your mind, man," Greg replied blithely, glancing to his side as he spoke. "With the whole craziness outside, you know." "Me?" Sparky found himself pulling a face, jaw clenching tightly as he stared incredulously at his friend. He''s fuckin'' lost it, I swear. He''s insane. I know it. "I''m the one with a lot on my mind?" Sparky continued questioning his friend as more heat leaked into his tone. "You''re seriously talking about me right now, brah?" The boy in yellow found himself at a loss for words as Greg nodded his head and stared back at him with an expression that looked almost confused and at least a little bit sad. "Of course I am, dude," the blond began, more than a hint of sincerity creeping into his tone as he continued walking through Winslow''s bustling halls, basically carting along a dumbfounded Sparky. "I couldn''t have done most of what I did a couple weeks ago without you in my ear for a bunch of it. You saved the city as much as I did¡­ almost." "Uh¡­ uh, well¡­" Sparky began, as he tried to parse the odd feeling inside his chest fighting what seemed like a surprisingly even battle with his sour mood. Wrestling back some control, Sparky shot what he hoped was a fierce look at Greg and tried again. "Look, I get that b-" "Nah, not sure you do," Greg interrupted in a surprisingly serious tone, his smile muted as he kept on speaking. "You''re pretty much my only friend. Like, unless you count my cousin, and I don''t cause you know, family. Or you know, online people, but they don''t really matter anyway. Either way, I don''t know what I''d do without you. Anytime you wanna talk, I''ll listen." "Wow¡­ I mean¡­" the olive-skinned teenager shook his head, thoughts racing past him too fast for him to grab hold of any particular thread. "I mean, really?" "Yeah, Sparks," Greg''s smile grew slightly as the blond gripped Sparky''s shoulder and squeezed just hard enough for him to feel it. "Would I lie to you?" Sparky found himself silent as he stared at his friend, suddenly caught up in a whole host of emotions he hadn''t been expecting. Emotions he somewhat disliked yet didn''t want to let go of in equal turn; entirely frustrating at the moment but undoubtedly appreciated. Yet, all that faded away as he continued to stare in silence. For a moment, Sparky could see the phantom of his friend standing right in front of him; a few inches shorter, the nervous but excited smile plastered on his face as the blond tried his best to keep him entertained with whatever random thing could come out of his mouth. The messy bowl-cut, the light dusting of acne across a face that hadn''t yet lost it''s baby fat, the slight pouch in his middle that came from too much junk food and sugar, awkward thin limbs almost in constant motion as he rambled with the energy and tone of someone five years younger than he actually was. It was familiar. It was Greg. But piece-by piece, that image fell away in front of him. Blond locks a wild mane down to his ears compared to how they used to be, perfectly clear skin and a face that looked sharper. Greg had at least an inch on him, Sparky could tell without a doubt, something he noted with a slight frown. The blond had also filled out a good bit, his dumb t-shirt tighter on his chest than Sparky had ever seen it. The visible muscles under his hoodie sleeves were a dead giveaway, after all. All of it taken in at once, Sparky couldn''t shake the uncomfortable feeling that he was staring at a stranger. I haven''t been paying attention this whole time, have I?. A sudden weight seemed to rest on his chest as those words passed through his mind. Where''d my friend go? The casual confidence had been something Sparky had seen growing for a while, but this¡­ Greg actually thinking past himself and saying something that heartfelt was unexpected. No. That wasn''t the right word. Heartfelt. Greg could be heartfelt, usually without meaning it or realizing what he was saying. The guy had his moments of insight, surprisingly deep ones too, but this didn''t feel random and oblivious. The blond seemed to mean every single word out of his mouth, spouting them with a confidence that, while not super convincing, seemed natural. That was just¡­ odd. Sparky blinked as Greg''s arm moved, the blond dropping his hand from his shoulder as the expression on his face changed from a muted smile to an eager one. One that Sparky actually felt familiar with, if only recently. "One sec, bud. Gotta take care of something." The shorter boy blinked again, the words still lost as he watched Greg speed-walk off towards a group of students forming a small circle by some lockers, voice audible as he loudly yelled, "Hey, dickhead, you better drop that kid before I drop your ass!" His gaze stayed fixed on Greg''s back, finding the words as they left him in a whisper. "Who are you, brah?" Lag 6-2 Lag 6.2 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Being back in school was, somehow, a thrilling and boring experience simultaenously, Greg mused. After a week of being around just his mom and certain other people, it was honestly a treat to just see other people his age in a pressure-free, non-family environment. Well, it was. At least for the first five minutes. That substitute somehow managed to beat their old teacher when it came to the power of inducing boredom and that was honestly saying something when you considered the old man put himself to sleep at least once or twice. Although, after giving it some thought, that was probably more because of how old he was than how boring he was¡­ Either way, class was not a fun time. In fact, it wasn''t for the constant rush of energy in his veins keeping both his body and brain in a constant state of readiness, perpetually prepared to burst into action at any moment, the blond might have found himself copying his friend and using the class to catch up on his sleep. Try as he might, the substitute couldn''t have captured Greg''s attention in a million years. The sight of a flood of new faces in the hallway had been interesting for a minute or two, but even then Greg''s interest had faded quickly with nothing to actually do as he walked side by side with Sparky. But this¡­
Quest Gained Asserting Dominance Winslow High has been said to be a mini-Brockton Bay with the way junior members of each gang populate it''s halls. With the ABB shattered to pieces, young members of the Empire now consider themselves the real power within these halls. Show them they''re wrong. Objectives -Make the Empire students back down [ ] Rewards: 1000 XP, Nerdy Glasses, Increased reputation with former ABB students Bonus Objective: -K.O. the highest leveled Empire student [ ]
It took a moment for Greg to realize he was smiling like a madman, his face a tight rictus of excitement as he read the pop-up. A half-instant later, the expression was within normal ranges for a carefree smile, or so he hoped. Really, it didn''t matter. What did matter was right in front of him. Excusing himself from a quiet Sparky, Greg walked up to the semi-circle of students surrounding one familiar bottle-blond bastard and his usual posse of juniors standing just a few feet behind him trying to look threatening. Said bastard loomed over a smaller student ¡ª a freshman by the looks of him, and Japanese as well ¡ª perfect prey for an Empire stooge. Before the asshole could slam the younger, bespectacled boy up against the lockers one more time, the superhero in disguise felt it was time to announce himself. "Hey, dickhead, you better drop that kid before I drop your ass!" The words did their job, catching the attention of said dickhead with ease. The bully slowly turned his head in the direction the voice came from, annoyed confusion crossing his face as he spat out the words, "Who the fuck¡­" Greg didn''t even have to muscle his way through the semi-circle after he announced himself, the small gaggle of students not tightly gathered enough for him to bother as he strode through with Sparky at his heels, leaving both blond boys and their respective companions staring at each other with vastly different expressions. The Japanese kid''s gaze hurriedly flicked to both boys in front of him, looking the perfect mixture of nervous and more than a little scared as the confrontation played out. The surrounding students just looked on curiously, which Greg thought was more than appropriate, considering¡­ Observe.
Jun "Johnny" Eto Lvl 2 Student HP: 110/110 Small, fragile and very, very nervous, Jun has spent his first two years at Winslow hiding in the shadows of several larger and stronger ABB wannabes as he focused on his education. Dangerously close to pissing himself.
Small, fragile and very, very nervous, Jun has spent his first two years at Winslow hiding in the shadows of several larger and stronger ABB wannabes as he focused on his education. Dangerously close to pissing himself. "... wait..." Malcolm Duncan spoke up first, his expression actually becoming more confused than annoyed as he gave his former victim a once-over. "Veder?" The smile on Greg''s face actually faded at that, the boy in the blue hooding mirroring Mal''s look of confusion. The hell? "Yeah¡­ it''s me. Surprised?" He raised an eyebrow, head tilting to the right slightly. "No, like, are you actually surprised or like¡­ is it a joke or¡­ what? You blind, man?" Seriously, do I look that different? "No. Shut up. " The bully shook his head, annoyance flaring back into his tone and looks. Mal narrowed his eyes as he slammed the boy in his grip back up against the wall, eliciting a loud racket from the lockers at his back and a groan from his current prey. "The fuck do you want?" Alright, then. "... I dunno." Greg paused, the blonde cupping his chin as the expression on his face crept back into a grin. After a moment, he continued with, "I guess it kinda depends on if you want me to shut up orrrr you want me to tell you what I want." The twitch in Mal''s eye didn''t go unnoticed by Greg, the sophomore''s grin widening even further as he let his taunts work their magic. Deciding to rub it in a bit more, Greg gave a simple shrug and added, "Not for nothing but, I think all that hair dye probably killed a chunk of your brain cells if you can''t figure which one it is."
Taunt Lvl Up! 16¡ú17
Magical. Really, that was the only way to describe how quickly Mal''s focus had shifted. For all the Empire-aligned junior cared, the scrawny bespectacled kid he had been putting the fear of God into no longer existed. Thick fists opened up, dropping Jun on his butt with a pained groan and what might have been a stifled curse from the Japanese student, and Mal turned to face Greg fully. Greg, however, glanced at the student on the floor. "Stay right there, you''re gonna love this. It''s gonna be hilarious. Trust me." Met with nothing but a bewildered look from the other kid, the blond winked at him before glancing back up at one angry Malcolm Duncan. His shoulders squared as if to intimidate, the older boy rounded on a smiling Greg Veder, the boys standing behind him already shouting out words of encouragement for Mal and various insults toward Greg. "You really think you''re funny, don''t ya¡­ Veder?" The junior''s words were met with a few murmured insults from the lackeys several feet behind him. "You think you can talk shit to me for whatever fucking reason popped into your stupid little head?" "..." Greg''s smile seemed to freeze in place, his teeth making an audible clicking sound as he shut his mouth. After a moment of silence, he nodded quickly. Don''t laugh. Don''t laugh. The attempts at intimidation were laughable honestly and the blond was pulling on whatever control he had over Gamer''s Mind not to burst into hysterical laughter in the middle of all this. Please don''t laugh right now. The dark scowl on Mal''s face shifted to a malicious grin, clearly taking Greg''s silence for nervousness as he took a few more steps forward. The halls were still loud with students who had no interest in the confrontation still making their way to class, but even then, Greg could still hear the crack of Malcolm Duncan''s knuckles above all that, the taller boy clearly itching for a fight. "Got any more shit to say before I kick your retarded ass, Veder?" Plenty, in fact. Case in point... "Mal, I am picking up some real subtle hints that you are a dumb musclehead with more bottles of peroxide in your bathroom than you have brain cells," Greg shot back at the bully without even the slightest hesitation. "However, I''m guessing you still wanna fight?" The dark scowl returned, Mal''s devious grin nowhere to be seen as Greg''s taunt hit home for the third time. "I''m gonna kick your shit in, Veder." I swear to god, this is too easy. "That is disgusting¡­ and unnecessary," Greg patted his left hand with his stomach a few times, snorting as a little bit of laughter slipped out. "I have been surprisingly regular these past few weeks. Not that it''s any of your business, really." Several ewws erupted from their small crowd and the blond sophomore couldn''t help but laugh again, both at their reaction and Malcolm''s reddening face. I missed this so freakin'' much. It''d only be better if Sophia were here too. A moment later, Greg shook his head at that intrusive thought, muttering to himself, "...actually, she''d have lost it by now." Rolling his eyes at his own thoughts, Greg flicked his gaze back at the taller boy, deciding to end this in the only way he knew how before he was late to class. "Anyway, Mal, good buddy, friendo, I''d love to fight you, but I''ve recently discovered that violence solves nothing. Long story short, you weren''t there but Greg Veder is pretty much a pacifist now." Malcolm edged forward, arms flexing as he forced his hands into tight fists. "I''ll pass a fist through your face." "Ooh, burn." Greg didn''t bother holding back a snicker at the muttered commentary from Sparky, glancing back at his friend behind him for a single moment. A split-second later, a set of bright blue eyes flicked back to the taller boy, his mind already aware of exactly what his Danger Sense considered a non-threat. The world slowed in his eyes, Greg''s reaction time spurred into sluggish action as the Empire junior swung out a heavy fist toward his face. He saw it coming, of course. It''d be a shame if he didn''t see the amateur punch coming a mile away, given everything he''d been through. Greg just wished he wasn''t so disappointed by it. It wasn''t just slow. It was a painful crawl. So much so in fact that the shorter teen had more than enough time to lean his upper body to one side, moving from his own perspective with all the speed of a geriatric yoga student. Like Greg had expected, Malcolm overextended himself with the hurried blow, the bully''s face gaining a look of familiar shock as his sloppy punch failed to connect. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He looked at Mal''s boggled expression, wondering to himself what he ever found threatening about it. The other boy''s muscles, his height, his fists¡­ What was scary here? His eyes flicked back to Mal''s other arm as another swing came his way, Greg staring at the approaching fist for a full two seconds from his point of view. He felt something inside him rise up as he stared silently at the appendage, Greg suddenly well aware of how fragile and fleshy it was in comparison to his own, a wave of anger pushing him in one direction. What felt like several seconds later, the blond felt himself shudder internally as he pushed the dark thoughts back down. How about I not do something that crazy on the first day back? Another confused look, one Greg was intimately becoming familiar with, flooded Mal''s expression as Greg calmly slid out of the way of another blow. Something slightly less crazy then. That look of shocked confusion only increased as he felt skin on skin, a single smooth hand cupping the side of his face. Greg laughed. Mal screamed. The students screamed. Sparky cursed. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Are you aware that school has only been in session for less than three hours?" The question hung in the air unanswered for several long, silent seconds as the round analog clock on the wall continued to tick loudly. Two of the three occupants glanced at each other, one of them bearing a confused expression and the other looking both simultaneously bored and murderous. A few more seconds of silent staring got neither of them anywhere and finally, the confused one glanced over at the office''s third occupant, looking a bit less confused and more inquisitive as he responded. "Umm, Principal Blackwell, are you asking me or Sp-" "Yes, Mr. Veder, I am asking you," the stern woman responded with a tired sigh, both hands resting on the desk in front of her. "I am asking you if you are aware that it only took two periods of class before you somehow ended up in my office on the very first day back to school." The question was entirely rhetorical, Greg was aware of that much, but he couldn''t help himself as he replied,"Well, technically, it only took one for me. I was late to school so-" "Were you?" Another sigh left the scrawny blond woman as she closed her eyes, sounding almost incredulous. "Were you really? An entire hour? On the very first day?" Greg didn''t answer that one, choosing to take the next few moments of silence to ignore Sparky attempting to glare a hole in the side of his head as he stared at his principal curiously. Weird how me and Blackwell used to have the same haircut, isn''t it? I mean, the bowl cut worked for me but¡­ Greg clicked his tongue and with a shake of his head noted, yeah, she''s not really pulling it off. "I''ve just¡­" Blackwell attempted again, before pausing and shaking her own head. "I''m just stunned because this has to be something of a record. It has to be." The last part was almost whispered to herself, the principal shaking her head again. "It just has to be." "What is?" "Fastest detention in the history of Winslow High school." "Whoa, whoa," Greg''s eyes widened slightly as he raised his hands in defense of himself, "I think you might wanna pull back there, Principal B, I don''t really think I did anything worth a deten-" "You dented a locker with a student''s head!" And there it is. Greg nodded sagely at Blackwell''s near-screech of a response, calmly ignoring the intensified heat in Sparky''s glare once again. "...Again, I don''t really think I did anything worth that, you know." "Excuse me?" The frown on the principal''s face deepened at Greg''s repeated words, the blond noticing that change. Raising his hands, the talkative boy quickly began to backpedal. "Whoawhoawhoa, ma''am," he rushed out the words with an awkward chuckle, quickly glancing towards Sparky with a pleading look, silently begging for help. As expected, his friend simply stared back at him with an expression that was somehow equally "bored", yet also "absolutely murderous". Stifling a snort, Greg forced himself to keep his own expression as serious as he could manage as he faced his frustrated principal. "Okay, maybe I should start over and tell you exactly why things ended up the way they did," he began again. "Start over? Start over?" Blackwell asked, voice nearing the point of confusion as she stared at the both of them in turn. "Where exactly? At the very beginning of this whole situation?" "Yes," Greg nodded slowly as he continued speaking, taking her words at first value. "Hello, Principal Blackwell. I''m Greg Veder. This is Axel Ramon," he added, jerking a thumb in the direction of his suddenly wide-eyed friend. "And the two of us are the ones who were not auditioning for a position in the Brockton Bay branch of the Fourth Reich." His words were simple, tone as blunt as a hammer as he smiled unassumingly at the woman sitting across from him. Part of him couldn''t help but feel like it might not have been worth it as Blackwell''s eyes lowered behind her glasses. The principal stared at Greg for a moment, fingers steeped in front of her, before closing her eyes and letting out a long, careful breath through her nostrils. Opening them a few seconds later in an action too lengthy to be called a blink, Blackwell let out a single sentence, voice sounding more tired than it had any right to be. "This is not worth it." The two students in front of her let out similar noises of curiosity, Sparky turning to face her in confusion as Greg followed up with a question. "Principal B?" "There is roughly a month of school left," Blackwell continued, a tired look behind her glasses. "Giving you detention would be pointless, and given the state of the city, I''m not even sure if I''m allowed to keep you after school. So," she paused as she leaned back in her desk chair, "fortunately for the both of you, there will be no direct punishment." "Really?" Greg found himself asking aloud, "I mean, I did slam a student''s head into a locker. I mean, sure, he''s a¡­" the blond raised his hand halfway into the air only to lower it back down after a moment''s thought, thinking better of miming a Nazi salute at the moment, "...you know, but I figured I''d be in some kinda trouble." Blackwell turned those tired eyes firmly on him, her voice gaining a firm edge to it. "Would you like to be?" "Not even a little." "Then, please, keep your mouth shut." The blond responded with a nod and a thumbs up, leaning back in his seat with a relaxed expression. A moment later, his friend leaned forward, exasperation and confusion firmly written on his face. "Okay, but why am I even here?" Sparky asked, finally making himself heard. "I didn''t throw a punch, like, I literally did nothing. It was all him." He punctuated the sentence by pointing a thumb at an innocent-looking Greg, Sparky shooting the blond another glare for added emphasis. "Loud and extremely vulgar profanity in the halls." Sparky fell back into his chair, deflating a bit as whatever argument he had was cut down in an instant both by Blackwell''s words and her acerbic tone. "...That''s¡­ that''s fair, I guess." "There''s no guesswork involved, Mr. Ramon," Blackwell answered back. "No matter your opinion on them, Winslow still has rules." "Not that anyone ever follows them, though," Greg muttered to himself, remembering just how often students had simply left the campus for whatever reason or did so many other things without fear of reprisal. "Do you have something to add, Mr. Veder?" "Not that I can think of." Greg replied, rebounding forward in his seat as he beamed at his principle with a smile that was only maybe thirty percent forced. "Can we head back to class now?" "No." "But you said¡­" The blond leaned back, a confused expression on his face as he closed his mouth. A moment later, he opened it again, with the same question on his lips, this time fully formed. "But you said we''re not in trouble, though?" "No." "But y-" "No." The ice in her tone was enough to make Greg shut his mouth again, the teenager blinking as he stared back at her, uncomfortably reminded of some of his mother''s worse moods. Jesus, what crawled up her ass and died? The principal relaxed her hands, laying them flat on her desk as she surveyed both of the students in front of her with a much less tense expression. "What I said was that you two would receive no direct punishment for this instance. Consider yourselves on some level of¡­ let''s call it probation for causing such an incident on the first day back to school." Causing. Both teens shared a quick glance, similar expressions of annoyance and disbelief playing out across their face, albeit for different reasons. A moment later, they turned back to Blackwell as she focused their attention back on her with a hard rap on her desk. "But what I meant was..." the principal paused again, gaze re-settling on the blond as if properly looking at him. "No, you''re not going back to class." Greg sighed. "Okay, I''ll bite. Why?" "What do you mean¡­ Wait, excuse me," the principal interjected. Pushing her glasses up, she pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a single, frustrated breath. "I forgot that you were late to school by¡­ an hour, if I''m not mistaken?" "About that, yeah." The flippant reply didn''t seem to do him any favors with the principal from what Greg could tell of the expression on her face, but he couldn''t help himself. "Maybe a little more. I know I was late, and I''m really sorry, ma''am, but I just had to make my mommy breakfast in bed. I know it''s not a real excuse but with the effort I put into making it perfect, time kinda got away from me." "...really?" Greg nodded slowly and did his very best not to make his lips twitch as he responded to Blackwell''s single-worded question, the disbelief in her tone audible. "Yes." The effort in keeping his face somewhat serious tripled as what could only be described as the combination of a dying groan and a drawn-out sigh came from the third person in the room. "My mom does a lot for me. She deserves it, you know."
CHA + 1
Despite himself, Greg smirked. Score. Principal Blackwell''s simply continued to stare at him, the edge still present in her gaze albeit a good bit softer than it was a moment ago. "Well¡­" she spoke up after a few seconds, "I suppose, given the circumstances¡­ that''s understandable. She is a nurse, if I''m correct?" "She is, yeah." "So, she would have had to deal with the¡­ events first-hand," Blackwell continued, closing her eyes for a moment. Opening them again, she folded her hands above each other and placed them on her desk. "With that in mind, I can understand why you felt the need to take care of her." Greg glanced down, his expression stiffening before he replied,"...I-yeah, I¡­ you''re right, yeah." "Anyway, seeing as you missed the announcement this morning, there will be an assembly in about fifteen minutes to¡­" the principal paused to adjust her glasses, and cleared her throat before continuing on, face a bit more somber, "to honor those of our students and staff who were injured or¡­ lost in the last two weeks." For the second time, Greg Veder froze. "Wow¡­ that¡­ That sounds like a really good idea." "It''s only proper," Blackwell nodded. "Now, if you two would please head down to the auditorium. I''d like to see you both in the front row by the time I''m on stage." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As both teens exited out of Winslow''s main office area, the hard wooden door closing hard behind them, Greg glanced over to his far more quiet friend and grinned. "... I think that went pretty well. You?" "I disagree." Hands gripped tightly into fists at his sides, Sparky glared back at the smiling blond. "You got me in trouble on the first day back, you¡­ you actual asshole." He hissed the last word through gritted teeth, a great deal of venom in his tone. Are we really doing this right now? Greg snickered to himself at both that thought and Sparky''s words as he started walking down the hallway, his friend following on instinct. "I''d be more careful with that profanity, bro¡­" he began as Sparky rushed up to his side. "Oh, you think, brah?" "Oh, I know, dude," Greg laughed again. "And in related news, you got yourself in trouble, which is kinda unsurprising. Seriously, I don''t know why you''re so bitter. I should be the one mad at you right now. You implied some unsavory things about my mother in that rant, you big jerk you." The wink he gave his friend at the end of that sentence was likely a bit too much for the other teen to take calmly, Greg mused to himself. A moment later, he got his confirmation as Sparky let out an actual growl and fully lunged at him. Snorting in addition to actual belly laughter, Greg casually sidestepped the attempted tackle both for his enjoyment and his friend''s health. Quickly pulling on the hood of Sparky''s jacket to prevent him from crashing into a locker, the blond righted the angry teenagers and gave him a very light tap on the forehead. "Gotta be quicker than that." His chuckles died away as he watched Sparky breathe heavily, shock on the other boy''s face. Fine, I''ll be the big man. Letting out a slight sigh, Greg raised his hands up. "Alright, alright, that was too much. I''m sorry for going too far." Axel Ramon stared his friend down for a few seconds, expression quickly going from surprise to anger before simmering down to frustration as he realized what had just happened. "I swear to God you weren''t this bad before." Blue eyes narrowed slightly as Greg leaned up against the locker his friend would have smashed into if it hadn''t been for his rapid intervention. "I''m not sure what you mean." "You¡­ how are you not sure? You started-" "Ended," Greg interjected, sticking his tongue out. "- a fight." Sparky sent him another heated glare, one that his friend continued to smile at. "You pretty much outed yourself by denting a locker with a dude''s head and-" "I didn''t out myself, Sparkplug," Greg cut in again, bringing up his fingers to form air quotes around the three syllables. "This is Winslow. The lockers are mad cheapo, my guy. A hard elbow would make that same dent." Sparky stayed silent for a few moments, amber eyes glaring daggers at the blond as they both stood still in the vacant halls of Winslow.. Deciding to go for broke, Greg spoke up again. "Besides, it was Big Mal''s giant head making the dent. The guy''s as dense as fucking iron. Besides, you can''t tell me part of you inside wasn''t stoked to see him get that sweet KO he''s been begging for?" At those words, His face widened in a smile that might have been a bit too big for his face, before he quickly pulled it back. "Come on, bro, after all the times he''s held us both up for money?" Sparky shook his head. "It doesn''t matter what I felt." "I think it really does." "It doesn''t matter what I felt," Sparky repeated, unclenching his fists finally. "What matters is that if you get outed, I''m your best friend, so I go down with you." "Down? Down?" Greg let out another laugh, barely restricting his smile this time. "Bud, there''s no down for me. The only way is up, and you''re my best friend, so you''re coming along for that sweet-ass ride." "... Could you at least stop trying to out yourself, brah?" Sparky asked, speaking up after Greg''s laughter finally died away. "As a favor to me, for helping you out, at least." Bro, really? The smile that the blond teen was wearing quickly shrunk, Greg''s face twisting up in confusion. "What? Do you think I''m shouting it from the rooftops?" He flicked his hand over his face, a pair of glasses that would have fit right at home on any stereotypical nerd appearing on the bridge of his nose in a quick flare of blue light. "You think I can Clark Kent this craziness? Huh?" "You could try." "Can I really? You think so?" Greg smirked back sardonically, the glasses on his face vanishing in another flash of blue as he stood up straight and stepped towards Sparky, making sure his friend noticed the new height difference. "I grew 3 inches literally overnight a good two weeks ago. My teeth are straighter than they''ve ever been. No acne anywhere on my face. No scars¡­ anywhere. And the better I get, the more obvious this shit looks. It''s just a matter of time." Almost as if it hurt him to do so, Sparky nodded. "Whatever, I guess. At least try not to be stupid." "Will try, bro," Greg laughed again as he continued walking down the hallway. "Anyway, gotta go." Sparky made to go after him, only to pause and frown, glancing the other direction as a sudden realization came over him. "Wait, the hell are you going? The assembly hall''s back that way." "I got an appointment, Sparks," Greg called back, not stopping to do so. "Can''t be late." "You''re gonna get us in trouble again!" "Nah," Greg grinned to himself, "this one''s on me." Lag 6.3 Lag 6.3 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "You know people can go up to almost like two or... three, yeah, three-hundred hours without sleep?" The question hung in the air, almost echoing in the relative silence. "Well, close to it, I guess. Really, it''s just two-fifty." His mouth dipped into a frown at that, eyes narrowing for an instant. "Which seems like a lot until you realize it''s only, like, ten days." Greg Veder blinked, staring straight forward as he searched for something to say. "Anyway¡­" he finally managed a few long seconds later, "I know it''s been a while since I was here but the last ten days have been kinda hectic. So... forgive me?" His frown threatened to shift into a smile, a decidedly awkward one at that, but his expression barely managed a twitch. "For that, at least. Also, I didn''t bring flowers this time¡­ so that too." More silence. "I''ll take that as a yes." He felt a laugh threatening to make itself heard from within his chest at his own joke but nothing actually managed to make its way out. "You know, you''re really forgiving. I''d think most girls would be angry if their boyfriend forgot to visit them or bring them flowers¡­ but I don''t really know much about girls, so they could be okay with it too." Greg let out a breath, blinking a few times as he glanced straight up. "I doubt it, though. I don''t know why but I do. Either way¡­ I''m sorry it took me so long. I''d have tried to come earlier but I had to pull a favor for this time slot. You wouldn''t believe how hard it is to get in to see you without your family and¡­ well, your dad pretty much hates me right now." The blond bowed his head, staring at his hands. "I''d hate me too, though, y''know¡­ It is kinda my fault you were there. You could have been home safe, like the rest of your family but¡­ noooo. I had to impress you and take you somewhere fancy so you wouldn''t get bored of me and now you''re¡­ now you''re like¡­ this." Greg glanced back up to look at the only other occupant of the hospital room, silent as ever. Emma Barnes laid there under the covers of her hospital bed, dressed in a long white T-shirt he was sure some nurse aid made sure was changed at least once a day. The MedHall symbol was clearly visible on the chest, embossed in bright silver. No such thing as a ''cheap hospital gown'' for this place, he mused. Even for the coma patients. It had been weeks since the Barnes had their youngest daughter transferred to a private MedHall facility ¡ª one of the larger ones too ¡ª dotting the city, and Greg knew Emma had received nothing but exceptional treatment. If he had to guess, her dad had called in a favor from a certain client to get her put here. If he didn''t, I might have tried at least. Tried and failed, maybe, but still tried. Private hospital rooms and top-notch medical care were in short supply right now, what with a whole hospital and a lot of medical staff still out of commision. Greg''s thoughts flickered over to his mother and the way she still kept well clear of windows and refused to even acknowledge the presence of any sort of glassware. She loves my cooking, though, so win-win, I guess. The blond shook his head, letting out a wry laugh along with the motion. "I''m not that great at feeling sorry for myself, I''m sorry. It doesn''t really stick. Didn''t really stick before either, but I think that was more my attention span than¡­" He let himself trail off, letting out a slight breath of air as he cupped his chin. The simple beeps of her heart monitor continued on in the quiet of the room, the dull noise of the hospital outside barely audible with the door closed. "Anyways, I feel like I should feel bad about that too. I don''t know if you''d call it ironic or meta, but it just is, I guess. It definitely feels ironic complaining about not getting enough sleep when you''re¡­" Greg trailed off again as he glanced back at Emma again. Looking at him, his expression would seem like it was almost set in stone. "A real Sleeping Beauty, I guess." Wait, red hair? The blond scoffed out loud, folding his arms across his chest as he remained standing at the side of Emma''s bed. Wrong Disney Princess. "Sleeping Little Mermaid sounds really stupid, though," he muttered to himself. Still, she really did look the perfect Sleeping Beauty - Sleeping Ariel? - as she laid there in the hospital bed, seemingly untouched the way she had been for the last few weeks. Really, if it wasn''t for the IV attached to her arm and the various monitors she was hooked up to, she would look to anyone else as if she was simply and peacefully asleep. Which was odd¡­ to everyone. The doctors, nurses and her parents. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Odd enough for Greg to give her a surreptitious glance with his Analyze, even, the last time he had been here.
Emma Barnes Lv 7 Student - Model HP: 200/200 It''s a coma. There''s not much else going on here. If you''re looking for more information you already know, she has red hair, I guess.
And that had only been slightly more annoying than it usually was when it came to providing information. Either way, it was just another annoyance to add to the growing list. Greg sighed again. "You know, about the not sleeping thing¡­ it''s not nightmares or anything like that, you know. That''d be way less annoying than what it actually is, no joke." Greg shifted his gaze over to the wood-paneled door of the room, craning his head to look through the glass pane in the center of the door. His eyes narrowed, blue eyes shifting into a bright yellow for only a single moment. Satisfied with whatever he saw, Greg turned back to Emma and leaned forward, arms still folded over his chest. "Honestly, imagine your phone constantly blowing up with notifications and you can''t turn the volume off or anything. The only way you can get some peace is to take care of the problem and by the time the problem is taken care of and you''re back home, it''s already morning and you have to make your mom breakfast." Greg drummed his fingers against one arm, biting his lip in a tight smile. "Like, I literally had to get some guys to help me out. I mean, I have to pay them¡­ y''know, to keep them loyal, I guess, but that''s literally no problem." The blond paused, one eyebrow raised as something came to mind. "Although, I''m pretty sure a bunch of them would stick around anyway. I feel like they think of me as more than a paycheck, considering I''m keeping their neighborhood safe, y''know. Like¡­ respect or something." Greg Veder shook his head, letting out a slight laugh. "Forget it. I''m being stupid." His lips quirked up at the side, turning the slight smile on Greg''s face into a smirk for a few moments. "I think you''d be really proud of me, though." He nodded his head at the whispered words. "I''m keeping people safe every night, doing my best in training too. I know I can''t promise that nothing like this is gonna happen to you or anyone else but I''m gonna do my best, you know? Whenever you wake up, you''ll feel safe, I promise." Greg''s gaze flickered back to the door as the sound of footsteps neared it, straightening up his posture as it opened fully. A brown-haired woman poked her head and shoulders in, the MedHall logo embossed in silver on the chest of her all-white scrubs clearly visible. "Greg, baby, I''m gonna need you to wrap it up real quick, okay," she said gently, her eyes crinkling softly as she smiled. "They do a check on high-tier patients every ten minutes, and I can''t have either of us getting in trouble." The teenager smiled back, letting out a slight sigh as his arms dropped to his sides. "No problem, Aunt Bex. I''m pretty much done anyway. Didn''t have too much to say." "Alrighty, babe," she smiled again, easing back out as she began to close the door behind her. "Just walk straight out when you''re done." "Gotcha." "Also," Greg glanced back at the still open door, his aunt''s face still staring back at him, "Ask your mom if she wants to come over this week. We haven''t had a girl''s night in forever." As if I''d let her leave the house. "... Sure. I''ll do that," he lied. "Great." The door finally closed behind her, allowing Greg to turn his attention back to Emma again. The blond stepped forward and nodded, feeling sure of himself in a way he hadn''t for a while. "Whenever you wake up, okay."
Gregory Lucas Veder
Student
Age: 15 Title:
Level 32 Experience 40000/55000
Health 3220/3220
Mana 1200
Willpower 1205
STR 200?? SPD 125
VIT 197 INT 90
WIS?? 22 (-70%) CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0?? Perk Points: 0
Cash: $10,000
Lag 6.4a Lag 6.4 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Every generation has its counterculture, and while American pop culture has gone overboard with superhero worship, Post-Cape counterculture has gone¡­ the other way. It began with supervillain penetration of the drug gangs in the late 80s and then the appearance of supervillain and "minion" street gangs. Urban street-villains began adopting a distinctive "style" of costume: heavy boots, jeans, cargo, or leather pants, a leather jacket or even a long duster, and in many cases, a bright colored shirt with a symbol hand-painted on it ¡ª tattoos or face-paint optional. Freakshow, a rapping "supervillain" Changer based in Jacksonville,Florida took gangsta rap and made it villain rap in the mid-90s, vaulting both the new music style and the clothing style into a sort of niche popularity, not so unknown as to be underground but ignored and even disdained by most if not all mainstream media. Still, it cannot be denied that the genre possesses popularity despite that, possibly for the better. Any form of overt mainstream acceptance or promotion would only hurt the image of villain rap as part of supervillain culture is a denial of the validity of popular media, superhero worship and heroic claims of righteousness. After all, Protectorate capes and other professional superheroes support and defend The System, which oppresses minorities with legal bruta-
Greg Veder pushed a loud sigh out of his mouth, the sound launched deep from within his chest with hours of frustration serving as powerful propulsion. He closed his eyes for a moment, a finger and thumb on his left hand kneading the bridge of his nose. "Jesus Christ, why did I pick thisbook? I could have chosen any other smart-looking book but I went with this one." He raked the fingers of his right hand down his face, eyes gazing upwards at the dark night sky as he let out an annoyed groan to follow the sigh. The things I do for these numbers. Turning his gaze back to the book resting on his lap, he shook his head and frowned at the ordeal in front of him. "Okay, let''s do this again."
-lity and systemized discrimination. You can''t be a hero and the oppressor. On the other side, villain culture worships actualized power¡ª displayed through law-breaking ¡ª and this often makes supervillains victimizers in their own communities. Villain culture is not defined by race, but it does have strong racial and class elements; urban street culture condemns "brothers" who become superheroes ¡ª traitors selling out their own. Fashion villains have their minions and their groupies, and there is a strong bleed-over between fashion villains and gang villains; Chicago''s two supervillain gangs, the Folk and the Ronin, are the epitome of fashion villains ¡ª they do extortion and drugs and prostitution and they make sure to do so with style. Their minions have even been seen to wear their symbols as tattoos, but their flamboyant fashion-sense doesn''t make them any less dangerous. Villain culture is a refuge for both professional and thrill-villains, and for some cause-driven villains if it''s the right cause. Villain culture''s open display allows them to be completely public while making it very hard for traditional law enforcement to pin anything on them legally, with groupies ready to alibi for them and minions ready to assist them. For a villain to be "authentic," he needs to be able to boast at least one successful tag, otherwise known as a villain vs. hero fight. Win or lose a fight, do a little prison time if you can''t get off on a technicality, and you''re in. Inside their circles, the most hardcore boast of their ''cape-tags'', a common term for hero injuries, and in some cases, kills. Much like criminal culture, villain culture worships power; by definition, a supervillain is strong enough to do what he wants and lawbreaking is a display of strength. Worrisome enough on its own, this becomes even more of a threat when one attracts a fanbase. Parahumans are often seen as larger-than-life whether physically or metaphorically, with said image correlating with the magnitude of their ability. If one was of a religious bent, they might glance at a Bible, particularly Genesis 6:4, which says "There were giants in the earth in those days". Ignoring those that believe or attempt to further theories that parahumans are nothing more than a return of the mythological and religious figures of the past, the idea that the Nephilim of the Bible did encourage the normal people around them to worship them and submit to their base urges isn''t one to be brushed off, given how relevant such a topic is to our time (For more discussion on this, see Chapter 19 "Capes of the Ancient World?"). Those who consider themselves "fans" of villain antics and rarely enough, their merchandising, are attracted to what they represent; total self-empowerment and a challenge to the system. This nearly always results in a cult of personality developing around the supervillain, with any well-known villain that is not overtly homicidal or unapproachably insane gaining some manner of popularity in a more fervent and fanatical manner than seen in regards to most heroes (See Chapter 9 regarding the specific issue of Social-Strand Mentalists, i.e. Masters & Thinkers).
"Yeah, no, I can''t. I literally can''t. I have lost the ability and will to can." Greg swiped the book from his lap with one hand and began shaking it like a rag, the freshly-bought paperback somehow managing to rewrite the definition of boring. "It''s not even worth the stats. Holy fuck, is this thing long for no reason." The words left him as nothing more than a statement, because he was speaking absolute fact. Long was the nicest way to describe the book in front of him, honestly, and that was only after he had gotten fifty pages in. The author, who was probably doing his very best and wasn''t that sad as hell, somehow managed to make one paragraph feel like an entire page with the way he wrote. Rambled on and on in his own way, the man had made each page seemingly loop back to the one before it, creating a convoluted mess of phrase and wording as he somehow managed to retread the same ground with slightly different terminology every 500 words. He turned the book over in his hand, shaking his head as he spotted the unpicturesque face of a chubby bald man in a sweater vest attempting his best version of a relaxed smile in his author''s photo, only to come off looking sweaty and constipated at the same time. Dr. Jeremiah Goldstein, PhD¡­ Greg snorted aloud as he read the name, the man''s picture too funny for him to look at for too long. Imagine being boring and an asshole, the blond mused to himself, thinking back to how the literal egg-head of a professor himself had talked about his cape identity on national television. Not to mention bald too, he added as an afterthought, fingers coiled around a thick hank of his own hair. Greg didn''t hold a grudge, though, not in the slightest. After all, the guy probably had his reasons for calling a brave young superhero all those mean names. Must suck to suck, Jerry. Ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p-ping-p- No sooner than the last chuckle had faded away did the ever-so-familiar noise make itself heard, screen after screen after screen after screen from his friendly system popping into semi-reality right in front of Greg''s field of vision, almost as if aware the teenager might ignore the helpful notifications otherwise. Considering the first thing the blond did was close his eyes and let out another long sigh followed by a rattling groan that would have been right at home in a zombie movie, the possibly-sentient game wasn''t that far off. Right on time. Points for punctuality, game. After taking another few seconds to drag one hand down his face, Greg Veder let out another sigh before finally opening his eyes to face what he had been expecting for the last few hours. Your territory is under attack: Imperial Yards Your territory is under attack: Firefly Hill Your territory is under attack: Okinawa Heights Huh. The blond raised an eyebrow at those locations as he flicked each pop-up away with a lazy gesture, the neighborhoods actually not what he was expecting. Chinatown, Seoul Plaza, Little Tokyo, sure. Beachgate, East Hook, maybe. But these¡­ His mouth pulled itself down into a slight frown. These are new attack spots. Empire spreading out?
Quest Gained Big in Japan XVII: Territory Defense You know what the deal is. Some fools are causing trouble in your ''hood, wrecking your property and causing mayhem. You''re gonna have to fight some fires and save some souls. Get to it, boy scout. Objectives Put out fires in Okinawa Heights 0/2 [ ] Put out fires in Firefly Hill 0/2 [ ] Put out fires in Imperial Yard 0/2 [ ] Rewards: 1000 XP, Increased reputation with former ABB, + 1 Resistance: Heat II, + 1 Pyrokinesis (Adept), + 1 Perk Point, + 1 Stat Point
Quest Gained Klash of Klans VIII If the Empire''s grunts know how to do one thing right, it''s live down the ideal of the racist skinhead. With Lung, Bakuda and Oni Lee in the Cage, they seem to think that former ABB territory is their new stomping ground and the people living there are theirs to terrorize. Do as you usually do and teach them a lesson. Objectives Defeat 3 Empire 88 in Okinawa Heights [ ] Defeat 6 Empire 88 in Firefly Hill [ ] Rewards: 1000 XP, $1000, + 1 Perk Point, + 1 Stat Point
The quest screens hung in the air as Greg stared at them with half-lidded eyes, gaze not even bothering with the actual text as he locked on to the rewards and suppressed a groan. Wow, throw me a bone, would you? Whether it was due to the fact that these quests were repeatable - and boy, did they fucking repeat - or the fact that the Game considered Greg way too strong to receive much of a reward for what were basically chores at this point, the XP he had been receiving for them over the last couple weeks had been a fraction of what he had come to expect. Honestly, it probably had something to do with the 5 Perk Points he had dropped for Battle Concentration, if he really thought about it. Either way, it was kind of annoying. Not that he didn''t wanna save lives or anything, but still¡­ You could make it worth my while, you know that right? His pleas for more went unanswered yet another night as a tinny beeping noise rang out from the pocket of Greg''s jeans, rather loud in the relative silence of the open air. Letting out yet another sigh, this one of exasperation, the young blond reached into his pocket and opened the burner phone he had bought for just this purpose. Raising it to his ear, he rolled his eyes at the person on the other end rattled off respectful greetings in rushed Japanese only to gain more than a hint of fear in their tone as they began telling Greg what he already knew. "..." "¤ï¤«¤Ã¤¿¡£"(I know, I know.) the teenager replied, albeit in somewhat stilted Japanese. "̨µØ¡¢°³¤¬ºÎ¤ÈÑԤ俤Τ«£¿¤ï¤«¤Ã¤¿¡£"(Daichi, what the hell did I just say? I know.) "..." Rolling his eyes at the confused words he got in reply, Greg spoke up again, his impatience audible in his tone this time. "¡¸¤ï¤«¤ê¤Þ¤·¤¿¡¹¤ÈÑԤä¿¡£°³¤ÏÀíÓɤΤ¿¤á¤Ë’B¤¤¤Þ¤¹¡£¤À¤«¤é¡¢ÊËʤò¤·¤Æ¤¯¤ì£¡(I told you that I know. I pay you for a reason so just do your job and I''ll handle my part.)" "..." He nodded along impatiently, eyes half-lidded as he did his very best not to simply hang up at the continued unnecessary talking. " ¤ä¤ì¤ä¤ì,¡¸¤¢¤ï¤Æ¤Ê¤¤¤Ç¡¹¤ÈÑԤäƤ¯¤ì¤¿¤¯¤À¤µ¤¤¡£Ô礯½ì¤¯¤Ä¤â¤ê¤Ç¤¹¡£¤½¤¦¤·¤Æ¡¢†–î}¤Ï¤â¤¦¤¹¤°’Q¤¤¤Þ¤¹¡£(Yeah, yeah, just tell everyone not to panic and that it''ll all be over in an hour, tops.)" "..." "Íü¤ì¤Ê¤¤¤Ç¤¯¤ì¡£‚}Žì¤ÎÇ°¥¢¥¸¥È¤Þ¤Ä¤ò¤á¤¤¤¸¤Æ¤¯¤À¤µ¤¤¡£(Also, don''t forget. Have them meet up by the safehouse by the other storage place.)" "..." "ÖØ»ðÆ÷¤òʹ¤ï¤Ê¤¤¤Ç¡£(No guns.)", he added, his tone firm this time. Definitely no guns. " Õl¤«¿Ö»Å¤·¤Æ¡¢°³¤ò“ĤĤϤÀ¤á¤À¡£¥Ó¥¸¥Í¥¹¤¬¤ª¤ï¤ê¤Î¤¢¤È¡¢Ô礯À´¤Þ¤¹¡£ ¥Ü¥Ã¥¹¥ó¥¢¥¦¥Ã¥È¡£(I don''t need anyone getting nervous and shooting at me again. I''ll be there as soon as I''m done. Boss out.)" Language: Japanese Lvl Up! 14¡ú15 Greg let out another sigh and dropped his burner phone back into his pocket, the book in his other hand vanishing into blue light with barely a thought and a half-muttered ''Inventory''. As the last screen dimmed into nothingness, the blond uncrossed his legs and sprang to his feet in a single movement, scattering a few pieces of long-abandoned construction materials away from him as he did so. A cool breeze blew his hair back from where he stood up on a rooftop, peering down at the view that was Brockton Bay''s mostly-recovered Downtown. At least, what little he could see of it from the edge of the Downtown district. Night had already fallen hours before he had made his way over here just forty-five minutes ago, and the streets were as bustling with a liveliness that one wouldn''t expect from a city that had just survived a mass bombing half a month ago. "That''s Brockton for you, I guess. Tough as nails," the blond muttered aloud to himself. "Still doesn''t stop idiots from trying to tear it apart, though." With a slight upward tilt to the flat expression he wore, Greg walked over to the edge of the rooftop, only coming to a stop as he raised one leg to rest a sneakered foot halfway on an overturned carton resting on the ledge itself. Both eyes flicked from side to side as he looked out into the distance in the direction that was the waterfront, eyes flickering a bright gold each time he chose to blink. Several long seconds later, he spoke again. "...Inventory." Even before the last syllable left his lips, a bright blue glow surrounded his body, rendering his form indistinct to any possible viewers. A literal second later, it faded away, the teenager''s bare face and casual clothes replaced by a jet-black domino mask, a dark button-up motorcycle jacket with sleeves folded back and sewn up to his forearms, a large belt of the same color hanging from his hips and similarly colored, thickly-armored motorcycle pants. A long scarlet scarf was wrapped around the bottom half of his face and neck, long ragged ends fluttering in the wind, and motorcycle gloves of the same color covered his once-bare hands. Another flash of blue surrounded his right hand a moment later, Greg raising that same hand up in the air as the light faded, exposing the form of the jagged, chipped nodachi that now rested on his shoulder. Sliding his arm back till the sword lay flush with his back, he let it go and allowed the blade to simply stay attached where it was. The blond took a few more steps forward, kicking the carton off to the side as he stood on the very edge of the roof, looking down at the busy street below. "Wait¡­" Greg tilted his head to the side for a moment, a look of sudden realization on his face. "Almost forgot¡­" His free hand swiped in front of his face in a flash of blue light as quick as the others, a solid black skull faceplate appeared over his domino mask. "Hardkour''s gotta strike fear into the heart of evil, right?" With that, he let a smile spread across his face, arms stretched out at his sides as wind blew his hair back, the sounds of Brockton Bay''s nightlife hitting his ears as he simply took it in. With a deep breath and an open grin just beneath his skull mask, he slowly leaned forward. And just like that¡­ He fell. The sudden downward drop was slowed moments later as a pair of surprisingly adhesive soles met the sides of the building, his fall becoming a downwards facing run for a few thrilling seconds. Immediately afterwards, Hardkour leapt off the side of the building in a burst and blur of motion, launching himself like a missile towards the nearest building. Clearing the roof of a five-story brownstone with ease, the costumed blond met the side of another building and ran along its side at inhuman speeds in perfect and complete ignorance of the concept of gravity. Jumping again and again, he bounded from building side to building, relatively weak flares of his Reinforcement sending him ever further and faster with every single leap. Traveling like this had become commonplace to him, the movement style distinct from the glowing, near-flight leaps that a certain White Knight had shown off during the day. Bouncing from rooftop to rooftop and running along building sides like a ninja were less likely to get him spotted but they also helped separate his identities as well. The news had been looking for him for weeks now, almost as eagerly as they chased after sightings of his more knightlike persona, but when it came to avoiding them, he had learned how to move unseen and discreetly¡­ Hardkour jumped yet again, his arc sending him right towards a flagpole jutting out from the side of a building. Both arms reached out and his face exploded into a grin as he made contact, body moving with his momentum as he spun and spun and spun, his entire figure almost a blur. With a burst of manic laughter, the blond let go and let himself fly high up into the air again, whooping like a madman as he did so. Acrobatics Lvl Up! 45¡ú46 "WHOOOOOHOOOO!" ¡­ Somewhat discreetly, at least. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Klash of Klans VIII" Completed! "Big in Japan XVII: Territory Defense" Completed! + 1 Resistance: Heat II + 1 Pyrokinesis (Adept) + 2 Perk Points + 2 Stat Points +7000 XP +$1000 Resistance: Heat II Lvl 3 ¡ú Lvl 4 Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lvl 5 ¡ú Lvl 6 Territory "Imperial Yard" Secured! Territory "Okinawa" Heights Secured! Territory "Firefly Hill" Secured! ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Finally done, he thought to himself as he leapt into the air from a rooftop several blocks away from four now-unconscious Empire thugs. It had been as easy as usual, as simple as something like that gets, at least. But then again, fighting the guys causing trouble was never the hard part anyway. Nah, it was all about finding them. It may not sound like much, but a whole neighborhood was a lot of ground to cover, especially when you were only looking for less than half a dozen people. Moving just a bit too fast when it came to looking for his targets meant people could end up in the hospital. Hell, the morgue even. Well¡­ the wrong people. Smirking at his own little joke as his sneakered feet met the edge of a rooftop, Hardkour kicked up enough speed to turn his limbs into a blur and raced to the other edge in the blink of an eye. While the rooftop may not have been designed for highway speeds, it didn''t much matter as he was already in the air again with a powerful leap, the wind rushing around him with blistering speed as his scarf flared out behind him like a cape. Loud night tonight though. Almost never this heavy with the idiots. The thought was enough to make him pause as he alighted on a brick wall, his back and the soles of his feet staying firmly in place as he simply sat on the wall. Seriously, though, ten guys in one night? Half a dozen fires? Talk about wei- "Pleasesomebodyh-!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" "HELP!" The hell? His head snapped to the side and, already moving without a single complicated thought in his head, Hardkour pushed off the brick wall behind and bounded through the air towards the call for help. Moving like a maniac, he was there in literal moments, knees bending with the sudden impact as he touched down feet-first just outside an alley. The blond threw out his arms, clicked his heels together and bowed, eyes never leaving the figures in front of him as he wore a fake smile no one even saw. "And he aces the dismount!" They all remained frozen in place at his sudden appearance, the street silent as a grave. Even then, he didn''t need the power to read thoughts to know the word on everyone''s minds. Cape. Besides the trembling woman on her knees, the frightened children in her arms and the Chinese man clutching his clearly bleeding nose and battered face alongside them, there were four of them directly in front of him and two a bit further away; a chubby bottle blond in nothing more than a white t-shirt and dark jeans standing shoulder to shoulder with a pimply-faced dude wearing a ratty windbreaker, a tired-looking man in black motorcycle leathers from head to toe with a long scar edging up the right side of his face and stopping right under his eye standing front and center, and a bit behind him to the left, a rail-thin guy in a wife beater, this one looking far too twitchy to not be on any drugs. Right behind the four of them stood a very tall and overly-muscled skinhead in literally nothing else but denim shorts and a pair of white sneakers. Standing bald head and shoulders above the rest, he proudly sported a black lightning-shaped tattoo on the right side of his well-defined chest as he leaned up against the trunk of the car parked halfway on the curb. Trying his best to look tough was a much smaller man with an unfortunate haircut standing right beside him, small even by a teenager''s standards and wearing what looked like a bulletproof vest. All of them were young, none of them probably anymore than nine or ten years older than him, and like he expected, every one of them was armed with a handgun, the bottom of the weapon visible sticking out each of their waistbands. Oh, boy. The funny thing about the Empire, more than any other gang within the city, was the simple fact that they were all about their image. Their most publicly seen capes; Kaiser, The Wonder Twins, Purity, were all shiny, bright, well-spoken and¡­ well, you could assume good looking but with capes and masks, no one could really say that for sure. Regardless, the Empire capes most of the public could name by heart were as clean-cut as a Nazi super-gang could expect to be. Even the less talkative ones like Krieg, Stormtiger, Crusader and even Hookwolf managed to be surprisingly well-behaved¡­ again, for Neo-Nazis. at least. More than that, all of them were reined in compared to every other villain in Brockton Bay. Still, no matter how good the capes looked, it did not help when a large chunk of their non-powered members couldn''t seem to go two days without kicking in the teeth of anyone with a skin tone darker than a brown paper bag. If they weren''t beating people up, they were shattering windows, breaking down doors, stealing whatever wasn''t nailed down and setting the place on fire¡­ and sometimes, not even the middle two. A lot of them seemed to have taken it to heart that his territory was theirs to run wild in at night, or in the early early morning¡­ or every single time Greg felt like he could take a moment to himself. With the fact that Brockton PD didn''t even seem to register calls from the formerly-ABB held neighborhoods anymore, he knew for a fact that people could die if he didn''t make his way down there in time. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Pretty much like what was going on right now.
Quest Gained! American History X-Factor Empire street soldiers beating up on a harmless family deep in ABB territory with not a cop for miles? Sounds like a job for¡­ well, you. This shouldn''t be too hard. Like at all. Hop to it, hero. Objectives - Protect the Lin family [ ] - Defeat the Empire Street Soldiers [ ] Rewards: 1000 XP, $1000, + 1 Perk Point, + 1 Stat Point Bonus Objective: - Avoid any deaths, ''accidental'' or otherwise. - ??? - ???
Couldn''t make this one easy for me, huh? he thought to himself as he slowly rose from his bow. Yeah, sure, put a whole family right in the splash zone. That''s fair. He let out a huff of air as he finally stood up straight and angled his head at the gangsters. "Hey, guys, I know I''m late but¡­ you started without me?" Not a single Empire flunky spoke, all of them simply sharing increasing looks of worry at each other and the cape in black-and-red didn''t miss a single one. The one in motorcycle leathers did his very best to keep his expression still even as his hand twitched towards the visible gun at his waist. Despite the anger in his glare, it wasn''t hard for Greg to notice the wariness on the man''s face much like the other three, all of them obviously recognizing the distinctive red of his long-ass scarf. Two weeks of this mayhem had gotten him something of a reputation with the Empire, he was sure of it. "You want something¡­ c-cape?" The scarred man spat the last word out like a slur, answering back in a voice that would put some baritones to shame. Despite that, he couldn''t keep his voice from wavering. For a fleeting moment, Greg found himself wondering just how many of the man''s friends he had personally put in the hospital but the thought quickly passed as his attention turned to what was actually important. "First, the name''s Hardkour - k, o, u, r, make you sure get that right when your boss hears about this - but also, good question," the self-titled Hardkour answered back with a smile that went unseen from behind his scarf. "Gimme a sec to think about it." He raised a hand up to his chin for a few seconds, pretending to actually think about it before going, "Ah! I remember now. What I want is for you to let these good people go." "Wh-" Hardkour took a single step forward, a single finger up to the place his mouth would be under his scarf and Scarface shut up immediately. Intimidation Lvl Up! 15¡ú 16 The man took a quick step back, hand twitching closer to his gun as he visibly fought the urge to draw it, as if the sweat trailing down his brow wasn''t evidence enough. Chubby outright flinched at the sudden movement, Zit-Face doing the same while the twitchy one actually scurried back like a rat, almost stumbling into the car parked behind him in his attempt to put some distance between him and the dark-clad cape. Muscles leaned his head over and simply grinned at the action. Unlike the rest, his expression flickered from wary to eager. Great, this is gonna actually be a fight. "Mr. Lin, I''m gonna need you to escort your family away from here, please." A brief pause filled the air as the injured man took a moment to process that he heard his name, looking more shocked and frightened than he had been when Greg first landed, if such a thing was possible. "H-how did y-" Repeating the gesture that quieted Scarface had the same effect on the trembling man, Greg didn''t say another word as he just stared at him from behind his mask. After a few seconds of silence, the family man simply nodded as he got to his feet and pulled his wife up alongside him. Mouthing a ''thank you'' to the cape that saved his family, he began to move as quickly as he could manage, one of his children in his grip as his wife held the other. Greg simply nodded back and moved to stand in place of the family as they scurried away down the sidewalk. "So," Hardkour tilted his head as he spoke, slowly glancing at each one of them in turn. "Now that that''s out of the way¡­ I''ll make you a deal. You go back to your boss and tell him that Lung''s territory is mine now. In exchange, I won''t jack up your insurance premiums." Like I even know what that means. The four of them nearest him shared another look and for a second, the cape felt that they might actually surrender for once. Then Chubby went for his gun. Hardkour was in motion the instant the handgun left the waistband, a thunderous ''bang'' filling the air as he grabbed hold of the man''s wrist in a lightning-fast lunge and swung it and the weapon he held into the air. What might have been the sound of all the bones in his forearm cracking went unheard as Chubby screamed loud enough to wake the dead. + 400 XP + $100 + ACT 44 Handgun Hurling the screaming fat man a good ten feet away like a bag of trash, Greg simply nodded in acknowledgement as the very back of his head buzzed with the gentle yet familiar warning of his Danger Sense. And the fun starts now. Shots rang out as Hardkour leapt into the air, pulling off several unneeded flips and twirls as bullets from opposite directions raced right through the spot where he had stood a second ago. Landing in a cartwheel, Greg pushed off the ground with both hands and launched himself feet first at the nearest gunman. + 400 XP + $50 + SIG P226R Pistol A double kick to the chest took Zit-Face out of commission and might have cracked a rib or three, but the ninja-themed teenager chose to assume the guy would be fine¡­ at some point. Either way, he didn''t really have the time to check as he sprung back into action at the call of his Danger Sense, darting to the right to avoid a hole in the skull. Barely even blinking as he caught sight of the bullet zoom past his face for a fraction of a second, Hardkour sprung forward again. From Greg''s perspective, he took his time moving toward the next shooter, barely moving at a fourth of his un-enhanced top speed as he zig-zagged to stay out of the actual path of fire. Despite that, he knew Hardkour must have seemed impossibly fast as a certain twitchy bastard fired like a maniac at the places he had been, screaming incoherent curse words all the while tears streamed down his face. Twitchy''s gun clicked empty as Hardkour neared him, to his obvious panic. With only a split second of hesitation, the man whipped out a knife from his pocket and slashed at the cape as he came within reach. His dodges were lazy, Hardkour barely having to lean and flop out of the way of the man''s pointless stabs and slashes as Twitchy did more damage to the air than him. After a few seconds of this became boring, he quickly repaid the man''s wasted effort and annoyingly loud gunfire with a jab to the solar plexus as light as he could manage. And there go his ribs, Greg thought with a wince. I really gotta get better at that. + 300 XP + $50 "Wai-!" Scarface wasn''t able to finish whatever he possibly could have said as the cape appeared in front of him in the blink of an eye, the flat of his palm impacting the man''s chest. Before he could even so much as scream, the grown man slammed back into the now-cracked windshield of the car directly behind him, either unconscious or unable to move. Wait¡­ The teenager blinked as he realized that the man hadn''t even tried to fight him let alone went for his gun at all. As if to drive home the point, the pistol in Scarface''s waistband fell loose and clattered onto the asphalt, forcing a wince from the young cape. "... sorry?" Should I be apologizing? The guy is Nazi scum but I kinda feel like I should. Uhhh¡­ + 400 XP + $250 + Motorcycle Leathers (Outfit) "My bad, dude." Holding back the urge to groan at his mistake and wondering if he should, Greg spun around as his Danger Sense buzzed again, the sensation almost like a whisper this time. He raised an eyebrow as he watched the retreating back of the shrimp that had hung back from the fight, the guy already half a block away. Huh. Okay, I guess. Not bothered at one guy escaping, Greg shifted his gaze to the last guy left, raising an eyebrow as the man just now got down from his seat on the trunk of the car. They never learn, do they? The bare-chested man stood about half a dozen meters away from Greg with an eager grin on his face, all six feet and seven inches of him. His hand inched toward the silver gun visible in the pocket of his jean shorts, the action eliciting nothing more than an eye roll from Greg. But I guess if they did, they wouldn''t still be Nazis, right? From a standstill, the skull-masked blond rushed towards the skinhead at speeds more comparable to a car on the highway than a human being. Before the man had time to blink, he landed a single punch directly to the thug''s chest and, like Greg expected, his target went tumbling backwards head over heels. -1 "...ow." The blond blinked in confusion as the word left his mouth before he realized it. "What the..." He raised his still clenched fist up, the slight stinging sensation from his knuckles already gone as soon as he noticed it. Did that actually kinda-sorta hurt me? Enough to drop him down a couple points of health, it seemed. Certainly enough to be felt, that was certain. "Hehehehe." The sound of a much deeper voice giggling pulled him out of his own thoughts and Greg glanced back at the hairless figure he had just punched hard enough to send sprawling a few good meters away as the man pulled himself to his feet. A slight glow surrounded him for a moment, the light color already fading to nothing as he got back up. What the- A pair of blue eyes widened for a moment before narrowing again, sudden realization coming over him as the costumed teenager let out a sigh. "... cape?" Muscles nodded. "Yeah. Just a couple days ago." Greg met that answer with a nod, actually feeling somewhat excited after weeks and weeks of chore-like Empire clean-up. The fact that normal people went down in one hit now was honestly one of the most boring parts of all of it. At the very least, this might be fun. "First cape fight? I''m just guessing ''cause I''ve never heard of you." The grin on the man''s face grew at the question, looking almost manic as he began to slowly walk forwards. "Yeah, y-yeah, haven''t told nobody either." With every step he took, the grin grew as his gaze flickered between his own hands and the cape standing away from him, seemingly gaining confidence from the fact Greg had yet to move. "I was actually hoping it would be Assault, y''know. But you''re good enough, I guess." Greg quirked an eyebrow. "Good enou-" The blond ducked back reflexively as Muscles rushed forward at surprising speed, the man crossing almost half a dozen meters in a fraction of a second and already prepared to swing. With barely a moment''s thought, Greg retaliated immediately, barely holding back as he thrusted with his open palm right into the man''s torso. The musclehead flew from the strike, landing back-first on the asphalt several feet away with a groan. Pain, and more than anything else, shock was clear on his face as he glanced back up at the teenager staring directly at him, eyes visible behind his skull mask flickering with a chilling blue light. [Analyze.] Markus "Muscles" Mills Lvl 40 Empire Brute HP: 825/850 Status: Eager, Intoxicated Traits:Critical Status/Kinetic Rebound Field 9%, Enhanced Speed/Strength I Markus Mills has loved the fight for as long as he could remember. He was a rowdy kid in elementary, a trouble-maker in junior high and an outright hooligan by his sophomore year of high school. Not even caring about the Empire or their ideals, Markus only joined the Neo-Nazi gang to fight as often and as much as he can. Triggering after being manhandled in his first cape encounter, Muscles has never felt better. "Was this really your best idea?" Greg replied, mocking tone in full force. Rather than answer, Muscles jumped to his feet with a rough shake of his bald head, the glow around his body intensified enough for the young cape to catch it again. Just like that, the Neo-Nazi charged forward once more, to Greg''s slight surprise. He''s¡­ faster? A bit faster, Greg confirmed, but not so much that he was able to dodge the full-force standing kick that slammed into his bare chest the instant he closed the distance. In fact, as the man literally went flying like a javelin even further back than the way he came, the teenager found himself doubting Muscles ever even saw the hit coming. "I just wanna go home, big guy," he called out to the Empire cape, hands cupped over his mouth. The blond''s smile began to lessen as Muscles bounced back to his feet seemingly no worse for wear, the pale white glow around him seeming to stick this time. "How about we end it here and call it your loss? I''ll only brag about it a widdle bit." Six feet and seven inches of grown man stared down the younger cape with that same shit-eating grin on his face, breaths coming in heavy pants that clearly came from anticipation as opposed to exhaustion. Once again, the mountain of a man rushed forward, moving even faster for the second time in a row. Alright, you wanna play? The teenager smirked behind his scarf. "Let''s play." He burst forward with the raw natural speed as he had become accustomed to under his Hardkour persona, not a single hint of yellow light to be found anywhere. He closed the miniscule distance between them in a heartbeat and met the musclehead in the middle, their clash coming to a sudden halt. Greg shot a hand out to catch the large fist in his palm with nothing more than a slight grunt of effort on his part and pushed back easily. As he stared back at the cape opposite him with mirth in his eyes, the blond took a moment to relish the confused look slowly wiping away the musclehead''s eager grin. Only a moment, though. With a yell, Muscles struck out with a heavy punch that would have broken the bones of any normal person, yet his smaller opponent caught it with his forearm with only a barely audible groan. Without hesitation, Greg retaliated before the Brute in front of him could blink, launching several blurred jabs into the skinhead''s face and midsection, the man''s white glow growing more distinct and solid with each single blow. Each strike stung his fists a little more, the field around the man growing denser with each impact and Greg could only confirm this as the numbers bleeding from his own health worryingly began to near the double digits. He felt a growl rise in his throat, the urge to draw on Reinforcement and cut the fight short growing. With great effort, Greg pushed the thought away, not trying to send the man''s head flying off with an errant punch. Muscles took the moment of hesitation to charge again, glow intensifying for a moment as he managed to land a hard punch that caught the teenager on the bottom of his jaw. - 75 "Fu-!" It was a punch like one he hadn''t felt in a while, Greg noted with a dazed blink. As his head snapped back from the strike, Greg bit back a curse and wrenched down the red scarf around his face, letting go of his Surface Adhesion to let it fall down fully around his neck. With a slight sound of amusement, the blond spat a mouthful of blood onto the street. Baring his stained teeth at Muscles in a grin, he gave the man a motion with one hand that anyone and everyone knew meant "bring it." Muscles'' eyes lit up with a fire and the man stormed forward in a bullrush that was surprising even to Greg, faster than what he had come to expect from him. Covering ground at a superhumanly fast pace, the skinhead threw another fast punch and the glow from his field brightened, solidifying around his fist in particular. With ease, Hardkour dodged the easy to read strike before he slammed a hard elbow into his opponent''s broad chest, knocking him back a step or two. Beginner Combat Lvl Up! 19 ¡ú Lvl 20 Not even bothering to hold back on his speed, the blond lashed out with a right cross to the center of the grown man''s torso before he could fully rise to his feet. The powered gangster was the one to stagger back this time, face red as strings of spit fell from his open mouth. Greg swung again and again, every blow a powerful hook to the jaw that sent both head and body in the opposite direction each time. For a moment, Hardkour paused his barrage and Muscles took a deep gasp of air, obviously attempting to catch his breath. "Not happening, tough guy!" With a lunge, Greg grabbed hold of the man''s shoulder and pulled him in close. Another pained wheeze left the fighter as a final hard blow in the form of a swift gut punch met his unprotected stomach, depriving him of even more air. Several hundred pounds of skinhead doubled over, the thug retching and hacking as he was hit with force equivalent to a battering ram. The blond''s grin returned for a single second only to fade just as quickly as he noticed the shield around his large opponent solidify again as he staggered around on unsteady legs, the off-white light visible around him like full-body armor as Muscles tried to catch his breath. He''s not bleeding. Barely even a bruise. The thought came to Greg immediately as he took in his gasping opponent, the man''s skin barely even blemished under the light of his field. He''s not hurt. Why is he not hurt? [Analyze.] Markus "Muscles" Mills Lvl 40 Empire Brute HP: 725/850 Status: Eager, Intoxicated Traits: Critical Status/Kinetic Rebound Field 45%, Enhanced Speed/Strength IV How the f- Greg paused, shoulders visibly slumping as he realized something very important. He''s getting stronger, isn''t he? The teenager let out an audible sigh, actually feeling a little annoyed after getting actual confirmation of how little damage he was doing to a literal jumped-up mook. Guess we''re doing this now. The irritated Hardkour charged the winded villain wannabe, slamming into the grown man with full force. Muscles slammed into the side of an abandoned car, someone having made off with the wheels sometime ago, and slid to the asphalt with his face having left a dent into the door. A moment later, he let out another grunt as over two hundred pounds of teenage boy slammed into his back. "Hey, buddy," Greg called out from on top of him, tone as mocking as ever. "I just want you to know that this hurts me way more than it''s gonna hurt you." In a single movement, Greg grabbed the man''s burly right arm as it flailed back, held it like a vise and- "AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" -snapped it backwards like a twig. "That was also a lie." Impressively, Muscles didn''t pass out from the pain. Then again, he was a cape. Instead, he screamed as loud as his lungs could manage and bucked upwards like a raging bull. At the exact same moment, the off-white shield around the man bulged around his skin, fragmenting like glass for a single moment, before it ruptured outwards with the force of a grenade. "Jesus Ch-" The words died on his lips as Greg was hurled off almost immediately, thrown from the Empire cape''s back and launched away as his shield exploded. -125 Recovering with a quick flip, Greg landed like a cat several meters away, a bit unsteady on his feet but not too worse for wear. "What the hell are your powers, man?" The blond shook his head quickly and, after blinking away the spots in his vision, glanced up to witness the other cape still howling on the street, head up against the car as he cradled his nigh-useless arm. "You know what, don''t answer that?" As Hardkour took another step forward, his eyes flashed a bright blue again as he called upon his most-used skill. [Analyze.] Markus "Muscles" Mills Lvl 40 Empire Brute HP: 575/850 Status: Eager, Intoxicated Traits: Critical Status/Kinetic Rebound Field 0%, Enhanced Speed I/Strength I Shield down? Nice. "I''m sorry", Greg spoke up again, a smile visible beneath the skull he wore. He took a single step closer to the grown man bawling on the ground in a position that was almost fetal. "Did it really hurt that much? I''ve had a couple broken limbs, y''know. You don''t see me-" CRACK! "-crying about it!" Hardkour''s leg snapped out at the same moment as Muscles'' leg snapped in, the man''s tibia fracturing with a sickening sound and forcing another level of scream to erupt from the man''s mouth. -2 There''s the rebound, he noted with a frown. Shield''s coming back. The skull-masked teenager squatted down next to the insensate gangster and grabbed the man''s thick neck with both hands. "Let''s make this quick, big guy. The faster you sleep, the faster I get what I want." With a grunt, he slammed Muscles'' head forward into the side of the car directly in front of him with as much force as he could muster. BANG! Muscles screamed again, thrashing against Greg''s hold as his face met steel. "Oh, shut up, would you?" BANG! Another dent formed, a deep indentation that would have been almost a perfect mold of the gangster''s face if only steel was a good bit more pliable. Still, he thought with a grin, nothing wrong with trying, right? Hardkour raised Muscles'' head up again ready to continue his attempts to beat the man into unconsciousness when he suddenly paused, aware of a familiar buzz at the back of his thoughts. The blond''s eyes widened and he jumped back and away, intent on avoiding whatever trick the cape under him was about to pull¡­ -200 Only to bite down on his tongue as something slammed into him from behind. Hard. Whatever it was sent him flying back in the complete opposite direction, tumbling head over heels in the most literal of ways. It was a literal second later that Greg met ground, or wall in this case, with a hard smack of leather against brick as his back met a building side. It barely hurt, relatively speaking, as he had been hit with far far far worse and barely even screamed, but the sheer power behind it was enough to knock the wind out of him. Okay. Okay. Oh. Kay. No such thing as a simple night, I guess. With a quick inhale, the teenager allowed himself to glance up, hoping to catch sight of whatever it was that sent him flying. After a moment, he blinked. He blinked again. The urge to rub his eyes like a cartoon character popped into his head, only ignored by the power of his common sense and the fact that he was wearing a mask made it pointless. Either way, Greg seriously doubted rubbing his eyes for hours would manage to erase the fact that two Protectorate heroes stood not too far from where he was, before someone had so rudely knocked him out of the air. Assault, in the dark visor and red-armored costume that only an idiot could mistake for Velocity''s, glanced from Muscles'' half-knocked out form to where he now rested, slumped up against the wall of a boarded up¡­ convenience store? Maybe. It was hard to read the sign from here. Battery stood only a few paces in front of her partner, glowing blue circuit lines of her gray costume slowly growing brighter. This is a thing now and I still don''t know who hit me¡­ but I''m pretty sure I can make a really good guess, though. He thought with an outward sigh, eyes focusing on Battery. When is this mission gonna end so I can dip out of here? "So, before like, you know, you hit me again," Hardkour began slowly as he took his time rising to his feet, eyes firmly placed on both Assault and Battery as they stood there in combat-ready poses. Well, Battery more than Assault. The red-clad cape kinda just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest as his partner held her fists up, quite obviously raring to go. "Can I just ask¡­" He trailed off, hands up in the air. "What?" Assault responded, after a few awkward moments of silence. Greg nodded in his direction. "Exactly. What. The hell¡­ was that for? You just attacked me out of nowhere? What was that all about?" Battery loosened her stance slightly as she shifted forward a few steps. "You''re wanted by the PRT under suspicion of homicide." "Couple dozen suspicions, actually," Assault chimed in, the man leaning back slightly as he tapped the heel of his foot against the street. "Been a real busy bee, huh, kid?" The hell? Couple¡­ couple dozen murders? Greg''s blue eyes widened behind his mask, legitimately confused as to what the two capes were even talking about. A second later, he told the pair as much. "Dude," He paused, glancing over at Battery in an attempt to be respectful towards the experienced heroine who thought he was a criminal, "dudette¡­" Assault let out a slight cough at that, one Greg decided to ignore. "...with all due respect, I have no frickin clue what you''re talking about," he continued, both hands still in the air. "I''m a hero just like you." After a moment, he added on to that. "Well, I don''t exactly work for ''The Man'' y''know, but I''m a hero without a paycheck." He paused and tilted, raising his raised hands even higher in the best approximation of a shrug he could manage. "Technically, that kinda makes me more of a hero, if you think about it?" Assault raised a fist to his mouth, that same cough returning with a vengeance. Battery shot the man a quick look, her mouth turned down into a vicious scowl, before fixing her gaze back on the cape opposite both her and her partner. "Are you the cape known as Hardkour?" "...You''ve heard of me?" Battery seemed to take that as a yes, judging by the way her jaw tightened and she barged forward with her questioning. "Are you also the same individual who engaged in combat with Oni Lee on Wednesday, April the Twentieth?" "...To save Shielder and his hot sister, yeah, that''s me." Both Batter''s stance and expression tightened, the woman raising her fists again. "As I said before, you are wanted by the PRT under suspicion of murder of several members of the Azn Bad Boys." Hardkour blinked rapidly. Ohhhhh shit. I remember¡­ that was me, yeah. "First of all¡­" he let out a long breath of air to buy time as he rushed for what to say, "you actually didn''t say that before." The coughing fit behind Battery went unremarked on once again, despite Assault seemingly in the midst of hacking up a lung by the sound of it. "Second¡­" he continued, "I have no idea how you could possibly think that was m-" "A figure in black was spotted leaving several crime scenes," Battery interjected, obviously intent on shutting him down. "You also have a sword on your back, the same as that individual." The teenager nodded along with her words, trying his best not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation he was currently. Wanted for murder¡­ wow. I am so freaking boned right now. Keeping his face as still as he could manage, Greg spoke up again. "Hm. Hm. Hm. You make good points but, hear me out... I disagree with them." "In that case," Assault chimed in, tilting his head to the right to mimic Greg. "We also have to bring you in for the assault of Shadow Stalker." Oh come on! Hardkour''s mouth dropped open in shock at those words. "Whoa, that was an accident, okay?" He shot back immediately, pointing one finger at the other male cape. "Hell, she attacked me first!" Assault let out a long interested-sounding noise. "So, you''re confessing that it was you?" He tilted his head in the other direction, an amused tilt coming into his voice. "Personally, I just guessed but again, good to know." ¡­ okay, he''s good. Greg blinked, suddenly feeling very unsure of himself. He is very good. Note to self; don''t answer his questions. "Although, if that wasn''t enough," Assault spoke up again, gesturing with a thumb to the drooling form of Muscles the Neo-Nazi slumped against a dented car to his right. "We also got you on attempted murder and excessive use of force." "Attempted murder? On that guy?" Greg found himself scoffing, his mouth moving before the rest of him. "Don''t be crazy. He''s a Brute. He''ll be fiiiiine¡­" Muscles chose that moment to chime in with a noise that was somewhere between a groan, a scream and outright sobbing. Some might call it a death rattle but Greg was more optimistic than most, so he didn''t. "... with medical assistance. He''ll be fine with medical assistance." Assault pointedly glanced at the other Empire members lying in various positions up and down the small street, a few who were actually still groaning in pain, Greg now found himself noticing. After looking at each one in turn, the Protectorate hero glanced back at Hardkour, expression unreadable behind his visor. "In my defense, I forgot those guys even existed until right this second." For the first time, Assault finally gave in, his mouth twitching for a second or two before the red-clad cape let out several loud barks of laughter that the man didn''t even bother to pretend away as a simple cough this time. Honestly, it was for the best. Greg was kinda getting tired of pretending he didn''t notice. "Puppy, I think I like this kid." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C +10000 XP
"American History X-Factor" Completed! - Protect the Lin family [?] - Defeat the Empire Street Soldiers [?] Rewards: + 1 Perk Point + 1 Stat Point + 1000 XP + $1000 Bonus Objective: - Avoid any deaths, ''accidental'' or otherwise [?] - Defeat the Empire cape [?] - Encounter Assault & Battery [?] Bonus Rewards: + 10000 XP + 10 Stat Points + 5 STR + 4 VIT + 4 Perk Points + 5 to Mana Barrier + 1 to Reinforcement (Acolyte)
Level Up! You are now Level 33 You gained 2 Stat Points
Mana Barrier Lvl 1 ¡ú Lvl 6 Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lvl 5 ¡ú Lvl 6
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Gregory Lucas Veder
Student
Age: 15 Title: Ninja - Low Class
Level 33 Experience 14500/60000
Health 33320/3320
Mana 1240
Willpower 1245
STR 205?? SPD 125 (130)
VIT 201 INT 90
WIS?? 22 (-70%) CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 13?? Perk Points: 7
Cash: $12,550
Art for the Fic Here is some art I had commisioned for this story last week. Also, here are two pieces of art I had commissioned for this story all the way back in 2019 and forgot about. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it It''s amazing how easy things slip out of memory sometimes. Anyway, here you guys go. I don''t remember what the deal was with the arm-length black gloves but I left that up to artistic flair, y''know? Lag 6.4b Lag 6.4b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As Assault''s chuckles faded away under Battery''s continued glare, Greg simply stared at both of the older ''professional'' capes with a slowly-fading smile on his face. A small part of him was actually excited to see his heroes in the flesh ¡ª one more so than the other if he was being honest ¡ª while the rest of him¡­ I wonder how long they''re gonna keep this up, he wondered to himself, one eyebrow raised behind his skull mask. Any longer and they have to realize that they''re being crazy obvious with it. The teenager knew what stalling looked like, of course. Assault was good at it, though, with the way he stretched out words and even over-exaggerated simple things as long looks just to seem playful and fun. There was no doubt that a good chunk of it was just the man being himself or at least playing the same part he did for the camera, but Hardkour knew he was still milking it for what it was worth. The good-cop, bad-cop routine Battery was obviously trying to pull was obvious as day as well, mostly for how forced it was to make Assault look like the friendly nice guy. It took all his effort not to sigh as Assault stepped closer to stand right beside his wife just a few seconds later and the two seemed to engage in some sort of conversation, Battery actually sounding like she was nagging him as the man nodded along with a patronizing smile on his face. No way they actually got together if she''s got that much of a stick up her ass, Greg''s fading smile revived itself slightly with a smirk at that thought. Not likely. How is that hot? All jokes aside, this was starting to get pathetically obvious, and that was coming from him. Greg knew that he was never the most observant person, even with a skill that let him do just exactly that to a superhuman degree, but still¡­ Just put a little more effort into it, whydoncha? It certainly didn''t help the supposed image that the two were just being casual and not at all worried or threatened by him when Battery continued to give her husband several playful punches in the arm over his behavior. Oh, come on already, I know how his powers work. Greg bit back a groan at the sight, shoulders simply slumping they weren''t contained in his skull, the blond was sure his eyes would have rolled right out of their sockets. Take some acting classes or something. It would have helped the whole ruse if the both of them managed to do a better job to pretend like they weren''t keeping one eye on him the whole time, both of them clearly prepped to launch into action at any moment. You know what? [Analyze.] [Analyze.]
Assault Lvl 45 Hero - Protectorate Title: The Rebound Guy HP: 400/400 Status: Amused, Curious Traits: Tactile Kinetic Redistributor A strong cape with a habit for mischief that years in the Protectorate have only slightly curtailed, Assault is almost as dedicated to hero work as his wife, in spite of his personality and past. While he somewhat resents the limits both his workplace and his partner try to place on his freedom and behavior, respectively, he manages to remain as free-spirited as possible, not quite the type to hold a grudge.
Battery Lvl 37 Hero - Protectorate Title: Woman In Charge HP: 320/320 Status: Cautious, Wary Traits: Electro-Magnetic Charger (100%) Driven by her father''s career and tired of seeing him struggle, the goal of becoming a hero has driven Battery to make some unsavory deals. Due to that, Battery has remained a dedicated part of the Protectorate since her days as a young Ward. Partnered with the hero, Assault, despite her initial chagrin with the naming scheme, she remains a very diligent and hard-working cape who often goes above and beyond the call of duty.
Interesting¡­ but yeah, I''m done waiting. With that thought, Greg decided to simply cut the charade short the simplest way he knew how. "So¡­" the blond tilted his head to the side as he called out loudly, "you guys do know I can tell you''re stalling, right?" Both Assault and Battery paused their conversation, not quite freezing in place but oddly still as their heads turned fully to focus on him in near-perfect unison. Standing just under twenty-five feet away from him, just in front of the car Greg had put work into denting, he had no doubt that both of them heard him loud and clear. Neither said a word at first until Assault let out a loud cough, the sound quickly transitioning into actual laughter as the Protectorate cape didn''t even try to fake his composure this time. Huh. Greg raised an eyebrow as Battery''s shoulders slumped, the woman letting out an exasperated sigh as her partner held his stomach amid actual belly laughs. The blond blinked at both of them, not even bothering to fake a smile that he didn''t feel right now. They really think I''m stupid, huh? He let out a sigh through his nose, eyes narrowed to slits behind the eyeholes of his mask as he glared at the two Protectorate capes. "So, I tell you that I know you''re stalling for reinforcements and all you do¡­" He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. "All you do is stall some more." Neither of them bothered to actually say anything in response as they simply shared a look, something Greg felt told him all he needed to know. "Yeah," Hardkour snorted loudly. "You guys need to work on your acting skills, but still, kudos for sticking to your guns." Assault shared another look with his partner before turning back to Hardkour. He moved a bit nearer towards where Greg stood, only a few feet closer but close enough to make the teenager tense, before coming to a stop as he let out another long sigh. "Kid¡­" "The name''s Hardkour," said kid interrupted, one finger rising to his temple as he bent forward slightly at the waist. "Got it memorized?" The red-clad cape let out another chuckle, one that didn''t sound quite so sincere this time as he simply raised his arms in implied defeat and gestured toward his partner. Letting out a sigh, Battery took a few more steps forward to match Assault''s position and spoke up, circuit patterns on her suit still shining a bright white. "Alright, let me just be clear with you¡­ Hardkour. I''m not sure what you mean by st-" "Oh, come on," Greg couldn''t help but scoff, once again interrupting the capes as he shook his head in actual annoyance at Battery''s continued attempt to lie to him. At least Assault could admit I was right, even if he didn''t say it straight up. "You know what really wrinkles my ballsack, lady?" Assault''s hands rose to grip the sides of his head, his mouth mimicking the words despite making no sound. "When adults try to treat me like that," Greg continued. "I know you have a job to do but try not to patronize me, okay? I''m a teenager, not a fucking retard." The blond took a step forward of his own, folding his arms as he spoke. "It''s the only thing that makes sense, y''know, and that''s why I said it. Either you have some kind of sedative, I''m guessing you don''t cuz you''d have used it instead of tackling me ¡ª thanks for that ¡ª or you have backup on the way with an easy way to haul me in." A smile sprung back to life on his face, Greg unable to help the expression as he simply let his mouth splurt out what his brain saw as obvious. "I don''t see any containment foam on the two of you and I doubt your whole plan was to beat me bloody and unconscious and drag me in, right? The only answer that makes sense is that you gotta have some sort of backup coming. Probably a PRT truck full of troopers and that oh-so-special foam you actually need to haul capes in? No?" His smirk transformed into a grin as he caught Battery''s flinch. "No, please, tell me I''m wrong. I wanna hear you say it." "Wow, dude, you''re a smart one," Assault replied after a few moments of extended, pregnant silence. He inched toward the sidewalk again, taking two quick steps before coming to another stop. "Like, smart smart." Hardkour nodded in the hero''s direction. "Good to see that it''s not just me saying what we both already know. I was feeling kinda self-conscious there for a second." Assault let out another low chuckle, one that sounded oddly sincere, given the situation and shot Hardkour a grin to match his own. "You''re funny, not gonna lie there. Quick on your feet too." "Quicker than you," the teenager shot back. "Ooh, burn," Assault replied, a hint of friendly snark in his tone. Obviously intent on saying more, the man made to move forward again. However, Battery didn''t seem to appreciate that, as the woman stuck her arm out to bar her partner''s movement. In his place, she stepped forward and ahead of him until she stood barely twelve feet away from Hardkour''s position. "Look, I''m gonna be honest with you, Hardkour, we just wanna talk to you. You''ve gotten into a bit of trouble here but you''re a kid. They will go easy on you. You really don''t wanna make this a fight, though." Eyes narrowed despite his still-present grin, Greg shot back, "Listen, I know they''ll go easy on me. I was taking down literal terrorists while you PR-pirates were probably sitting on your asses somewhere. Thanks for your service, though." The mocking salute may have been a bit too much but he did it anyway, heels snapping together and all. "I''m sure people will be glad to know their heroes care more about chasing down a high-schooler than saving their lives. Really putting those tax dollars to work..." Okay, now you''re just making stuff up. I don''t even think the PRT gets tax money, do they? "Hold up!" Battery took another couple of steps forward, almost edging on to the sidewalk as Hardkour remained standing against the wall of the boarded-up convenience store. "You don''t get to say anything like that! I''m not gonna let you insult the work we d-" "Gonna stop you right there," Greg interjected, barely holding back a grin as he held a finger up in the air. Battery visibly bristled at both the action and the interruption, her wariness seeming to have shifted into outright annoyance. "I don''t really care about what you do. I''m talking about what you don''t. If you got a problem, take it up with the people the Empire killed these last couple weeks. Maybe Dauntless was too busy saving cats from trees. Or Triumph had to do another photo op with the mayor." The teenager clicked his tongue, an insincere on his face. "I knew there was a reason that I thought Armsmaster was the coolest one on your team." The blond let out a loud snort, shifting into a loud and mocking laugh a moment later after he gave up on holding it in. "No offense, of course." "Some taken," Assault replied, more than a little bit of hurt clear in his tone that Greg wasn''t entirely sure was fake. "Eh," Hardkour shrugged. "I also don''t really care." "And why do you care so much?" Battery shot back at him, body language primed again as her circuit-patterned suit continued to glow. "About the violence? You clearly don''t have a problem with killing people¡­ from these neighborhoods." ¡­The hell is that supposed to mean? Greg''s smile disappeared again, eyes narrowed to slits as he stared down Battery. "What¡­" He let out a scoff before he spoke again. "What, you think ''cause of that mess a few weeks ago, that¡­" Greg stared at the Protectorate capes, actually incredulous at what she was implying. "What? I hate all Asians? That''s what you actually think?" He let out another unbelieving scoff, hands dropping down to his sides as they tightened into fists. "Jesus Christ, looks like I''m not the one who''s the fuckin'' retard here." The teenager blinked a moment later as Battery almost immediately stood up straighter at his words, confused as to why both she and Assault suddenly seemed a good deal more tense. Oh. Greg''s eyes widened slightly as he replayed what he just said and realized that his words had come out in a vicious growl as opposed to his intended mocking tone. Whoa, pull it back. The unexpected anger struck him hard and the blond eased back against the wall with his hands raised, a slight awkward laugh leaving him as he did so."You know what? This was a fun talk¡­ but I got an appointment I don''t wanna be late to." "Hardkour," Assault called out with a hand up, stopping Greg before the teenager could even so much as take a single step. "You don''t wanna run. Take it from me." Battery nodded, once again looking ready to leap into action. "I''d listen to him." Greg paused for a moment, a finger tapping his chin as an errant idea popped into his thoughts. After a moment, he gave a mental shrug and decided to give voice to it. "You guys are supposed to take me in¡­ whether or not I come willingly¡­ right?" He shook his head a moment later, waving away any attempt either of them could make to sugarcoat the response. "Don''t answer that. We know that''s a big yes, so¡­ you know what?" "What?" Battery replied rather tersely. "See," Greg snorted, brushing off the last of his irritation. "I figure, it''s like 2 AM, and we all don''t wanna get bruised up. So, how ''bout I make you an offer you can''t refuse? I won''t struggle. I won''t fight. None of that. All you gotta do¡­ is catch me." "Catch you?" Battery asked back incredulously. "You''re joking, right?" "Serious as an Endbringer attack," Hardkour answered back. "Hand to God." "You can put the hand down because that''s not happening." Despite the fact that Greg couldn''t see her eyes, he knew for a fact that the woman was glaring at him with all the force she could muster. "That. Is. Not. Happening," she repeated, punctuating each word forcefully. "Just come quietly." Assault shrugged, smile still on his face. "I''d listen to her." Hardkour laughed to himself, shaking his head as he realized that the heroes didn''t seem to catch on to his point. "You don''t really have a say in this. Here''s the thing, lady... I. Can. Run. Any. Time. I. Want. To," he shot back, in blatant mockery of Battery''s tone. The blond flashed them both a grin as he took a step forward, both Assault and Battery doing the same until there were barely nine feet of distance between the three of them. "You''re the heroes here. I''m the dastardly vigilante. You don''t chase me down, you''re not doing your job. You gotta do it. At least this way, you''re guaranteed not to get a ninja sword to the gut." "Look," Assault began, scratching the back of his head as he spoke. "Look, I''d be down for a good race anytime, but if you run, right now¡­ then that escalates this. I don''t want that. You don''t want that." Hardkour said nothing, his grin only widening. Battery''s expression shifted, moving from a scowl to an open grimace as she glared at Hardkour with her teeth grit. She bounced on the soles of her feet again, already aching to make a move if her body language could be trusted. "So, high-stakes tag, is that it?" she finally asked after a moment of silence. "Look who''s been paying attention. Gold star, lady. A-plus." "You''re only hurting yourself right now." Battery snapped back at him, hands tightening into fists yet again. Her body was tensed, every part of her screaming that she was ready to pounce at any moment. "This isn''t some kind of game, you know!" The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The teenager tilted his head, eyes narrowed just slightly. "To you." Hardkour laughed out loud as Battery visibly bristled again at those two words, the female cape edging a few steps to the side but not taking a single step closer. "But yeah¡­ no tricks. None of that. All you have to do is keep up and tag me. That''s it." Greg answered, arms spread out at his sides like he was presenting on a stage. Finally, he turned his attention to Assault. "That''s all I want." Taunt Lvl Up! 18¡ú19 Taunt? That was a taunt?! The blond''s eyebrows rose behind his mask. Did that really count? Assault''s expression shifted a bit, almost matching his wife as his cocky smile grew brittle to the point that it somewhat appeared like a grimace. "This isn''t gonna end well for you, you know?" He asked after a few seconds of silence, his smile returning to normal. "You think you''re really faster than the two of us, though?" Greg grinned, showing far too many blood-stained teeth as he did so. "Wanna find out?"
Quest Gained! Need for Speed: Protectorate Pursuit It''s a superpowered game of tag with high-stakes. High-speed pursuit along the streets of Brockton Bay, only with no cars. Avoid two of Brockton Bay''s "top" Movers as best you can. Objectives: - Outpace Assault [ ] - Outpace Battery [ ] Rewards: + 5000 XP + 5 SPD + 2 SP + 1 PP Bonus Objective: - Avoid every attack from Battery - ? Bonus Rewards: + Electrokinesis (Minor) + Magnetism (Minor) + 5000 XP + 7 SP + 2 PP
"So, how''s about i-" The words died mid-sentence as Battery''s figure blurred toward him. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Part of her wanted to say she had a plan. Rushing the kid while he was unprepared and goofing off sounded as good as any other. He clearly wasn''t going to come along quietly and honestly, Battery didn''t feel the need to humor the high-schooler by engaging in some pointless chase around Chinatown. She was a Protectorate cape, after all, not some underpaid truant officer. And yet¡­ The rest of her just felt livid. She wasn''t quite sure why, exactly, but something about the kid standing on the sidewalk just rubbed her the wrong way. Whether it was the way his eyes seemed to mock her, or possibly the complete nonchalance that oozed from him, or maybe it might just have been the simple snarky remarks that made her want to grab him by the collar and slam him up against that wall- It certainly didn''t help matters that the little brat felt so smug about openly admitting to murder, throwing around hypotheticals like she had to worry about police standards. Whatever it was about him that got her so riled up, it didn''t really matter. She had enough. As the kid began to yammer on again, she tensed. The same instant Hardkour turned his attention away from both her and Assault, Battery forced herself into high gear, the circuit detailing on her suit glowing a bright white as she went from zero to European highway speeds in under a second. Blue eyes snapped back down and for an instant, their eyes met. She blinked, mid-step, eyes suddenly widening as the boy vanished. What the- Before she could even process that, Battery let out a sudden cry as something struck the back of her ankles from behind, knocking her off balance and unable to halt her forward motion. Half an instant later, the cape winced - not from pain, but surprise - as her back impacted the brick wall of the shuttered convenience store. She was back on her feet in a literal second, only to let out a sudden shout as her husband''s body slammed into hers at high speed. Battery fell hard to the ground, catching herself with a grunt on her hands and knees, while Assault simply recovered in the air and rebounded ¡ª the way he almost always did ¡ª feet meeting the wall first as he bounded off it and back to the ground like a circus performer on steroids. "I could have sworn I said tag, but two-hand touch works just fine for me, too." The female cape bit back a growl as she jumped back to her feet again, not even paying Assault a glance as she brushed off his helping hand. Hard eyes flicked over to the teenage vigilante as he bounced on the balls of his feet almost halfway down the alley, several meters from where they stood at the entrance. Alright, then. We''ll play it your way. "He''s playing us," Battery hissed through gritted teeth. "Correction!" the vigilante shouted back, both hands cupped around his mouth. "I''ve been playing you." The heroine bit down the urge to curse at the taunt, frustration spiking in a way she hadn''t dealt with for quite some time. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper as she hissed out instructions. "He''s too slippery. Cornering him isn''t enough. We gotta do this hard, fast and dirty." "Really? Reminiscing about our wedding night right now?" Assault replied back, voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, if you want to¡­" "I swear to God..." She punctuated that last word with a punch to her partner''s shoulder that would have sent a car skidding out of control like an icy road in the dead of winter, one Assault didn''t even seem to recognize as he smiled back at her. "I kid. I kid." Assault shot her another grin and a wink before they both darted off again in unison, Battery just keeping pace with Assault before she punched his side again. This time, he let himself move with the blow, shooting toward the alley wall at an angle as Battery charged forward toward the awaiting teenager. Her fist came up and she neared him in a little more than a second. It took a fraction of that for the boy to almost disappear in front of her, the image of him blurring with movement even from her accelerated perspective. Another fraction later and her super-durable fist slammed into nothing but simple red brick. The force of her strike sent bits of brick and dust flying, her vision almost obscured if not for her visor. With the sound of laughter, her head whipped to the right and she saw her target. Even further down the alley, he stood with his hands in his pockets, casually bouncing on the balls of his feet as he laughed at her attempt. She didn''t waste another moment. Unfortunately, neither did the kid. Hardkour''s entire body burst into motion to sidestep Battery''s third lunge. This time, though, she caught his movements perfectly, eyes wide and open as she took in the slow-motion world her powers granted her when charged. Two simple steps was all it took to carry him several meters away from the female Mover, her hand still stretched out toward him. Before either of them could draw breath, her red-suited partner rushed him from the opposite direction, moving only half as fast as Battery had. The blond glanced up as Assault''s arm arced towards him in what would seem like most to be an impossibly fast series of swipes. Cackling at the top of his lungs, Hardkour dove to one side as he avoided Assault''s hands, weaving out of the way of each at the very last second. "What''s the Japanese word for slow again?" Battery rushed at the vigilante again, interrupting his line of thought only for the kid to flip back and bounce from wall to wall before dropping back to the alley floor in a move worthy of her husband. "Oh, yeah, I remember now. Osoi, oso sugiru, omae wa toroi na." The kid''s laughter devolved into puerile giggles, only intensifying further as Hardkour caught the Assault''s second swing only to duck yet another rush from Battery from behind at the same time, as he pulled the red-suited kinetic forward in his place. For the second time in half as many minutes, Battery found herself meeting her husband''s body as they tumbled out of the alleyway in an uncoordinated sprawl of limbs. Her throat clenched as she bit down a curse, jumping back to her feet as quickly as she could. This is what I get for going for the hard sell, she groused to herself, You would think most kids would back down with murder charges thrown in their face. To most, Battery was quickly coming to realize didn''t seem to apply much to the kid they were trying to corral. Her eyes flicked from side to side, trying to catch where the kid could have gone to, only for her eyes to widen a second later in sync with her husband. Both of them quickly locked on to the teenager at the other end of the street as he flipped backwards up into the air and slammed down onto the roof of an abandoned car. The top of the clunker buckled under the force of his impact, Hardkour clearly not trying to be gentle. As he landed feet first, the teenage vigilante threw his head back and let out a villain-worthy cackle at the two confused and surprised professional heroes. Grinning back at the both of them, the vigilante leaned back, hands curled like claws at his sides to strike a back-breaking pose and let out some weird screeching noise at the top of his lungs. "...what." Her husband vocalized what both of them were thinking but Battery knew for a fact that Assault couldn''t help but be legitimately interested as to what the kid was actually doing. He was curious that way and she loved him for it. Assault shot a quick look at his partner, "I have no idea what''s going on but I kinda like it." Sometimes. She loved him for it sometimes. "Stop. Encouraging. Him," Battery hissed at her partner, throat full of gravel as the circuit lines of her suit pulsed white. "If you''re not gonna focus, I''ll do this by myself." "Battery," Assault whispered back. She ignored his voice, focusing her attention on both her power as she charged to her maximum and the teenage cape still mocking them with every moment he spent free. "Battery." Not this time, brat. She tensed. "Puppy." A hand on her shoulder held Battery back before she could rush off again and she almost whirled on Assault in her anger, blood pumping in her ears as she glared at her husband. "What?" He stayed silent and serious, a rarity for him, and gave her a steady once-over. What is he¡­ After a moment, Battery glanced down at herself as well, suddenly aware of just how tightly her fists were clenched as her body continued to tremble from¡­ Rage? Anticipation? Battery felt her heart drop into her stomach as she realized she wasn''t exactly sure what she was feeling, only that whatever it was had her attention laser focused on that goddamn br- She shook her head and took another moment to unclench her fists again. Both her and Assault met eyes from behind their visors as they came to an immediate realization that neither of them had to voice. Master. Battery held back another curse as she nodded her head, the cape doing her best to keep her mind clear as she released a breath she wasn''t aware she was holding. Shoulders squared, she turned back to face the vigilante with Assault by her side. Without another word, both capes dashed forward again. Hardkour reacted before they could even get halfway across the asphalt; the teenager flipping backwards off the car the instant they moved. His feet barely touched ground for a single moment before he spun around in a blur of motion and was already pounding pavement down the currently empty side street. Battery clenched her teeth as she outpaced her husband, super-strong feet slamming the asphalt as she sped up to make sure they didn''t lose the kid. A part of her almost felt thankful that he was largely just running in one direction, the drain on her power lessened by the simple movement pattern. Don''t have too long before I have to charge up again though, she frowned to herself. Gotta make sure I''m close before that. It didn''t actually take long, a few seconds at most after she made a sharp left at the corner, before she began to catch up with Hardkour. His scarf trailing behind him as he ran got her attention immediately, the tattered red cloth like a matador''s cape. And I suppose that''d make me the bull. She frowned at that thought, only to let out a relieved sigh of barely concealed relief moments later as she noticed Assault nearing her, the pace of his steps quickening with every passing second. Another sharp turn, this time left, and he was there at her side, his stride longer and less labored than her more aggressive running style. Good, Battery thought with a mental nod. The only thing the kid had on them was how quickly he could accelerate, she was sure of it. At this pace, they were bound to catch up to him in no time. If not her, then definitely Assault. And if both of them couldn''t manage it, well¡­ The thought evaporated from her mind as something else caught her attention, the distance between both of them and the kid decreasing with every single step. "We''re catching up," she said with a smirk. She glanced at Assault, expecting to see the same on his face, only to be met with a serious grimace. "No, kid''s slowing down," he answered back, with a slight shake of his head. "On purpose." What. Battery''s smirk vanished as she tried to refute him only for her to realize that he was right. The way her perception accelerated while she ran often made it hard for her to judge motion from other Movers but Assault was all about motion. If he said it, it wasn''t likely that he was off the mark. "Why?" she bit back as she glanced at him, barely tamping down her annoyance. It was much easier this time around, she noted to herself. The blood pumping in her ears had calmed and her mood felt much more level despite the physical exertion. Whatever Master effect the kid had at his disposal was likely wearing off. Maybe the distance. "Why do you think?" He edged his head in the kid''s direction and Battery turned her gaze back to see the kid actually running backwards almost at the same speed from before, this time with a phone to the side of his head. "Either he''s actually having a conversation right now, which I doubt, or he''s just having fun with this." A moment passed and the kid put the phone away before he flipped the bird at both of them, one finger for each cape, and turned his back to them before speeding up again. Battery narrowed her eyes. "...I think I hate this kid?" This time, Assault did smile at her. "Is that a question?" "...Maybe!" Battery shouted back as they rounded another corner out of the mostly empty areas of Chinatown and traffic began to fill the streets again. She had to yell as she darted out of the way of a rapidly honking car, one that was going a bit too fast for these neighborhood streets for that matter, and landed right by Assault''s side again. Both of them stayed hot on the kid''s tail, Battery remaining on as straight a path as she could manage down the busying street while Assault weaved in and out of traffic to match the kid as he began bounding the street. "A better one question would be, ''where the hell is he taking us?''" "What?!" Assault''s voice came through her earpiece as he was forced to make distance between her and some oncoming cars, Battery wincing slightly at his volume. "What do you mean?" "Look at him," she answered back, both of them easily able to spot Hardkour as he jumped up every few seconds, head flicking from side to side. "He''s on the lookout for something." Assault shot her a glance. "Maybe that phone call was re-" A barrage of gun shots sounded off, loud and strong, as they completely drowned out the rest of his words. Both Assault and Battery snapped to attention, both at the sudden sound of pistol fire as well as screams. "Where is that coming from?!" Battery''s shout didn''t go ignored by her husband, the red-clad cape jerking a thumb in the direction of the vigilante they had been chasing. "I think he''s got an idea!" Hardkour leapt into the air, suddenly unburdened by gravity as he cleared several stories in a second and alighted on a rooftop only to dart away in what Battery had to assume was the direction of the gunfire. "After him!" "No, I was just gonna stay here and take in the nightlife," Assault answered back sarcastically, already in motion. Battery shot him an annoyed glare, only to flinch mid-motion as several more bursts of gunfire rang out, followed by a sound of screeching tires and a squeal of crumpled metal erupted. "Goddamnit, I''ll call it in, just move!" They both turned a corner, sprinting as fast as they could in pursuit of the kid, Assault rattling off code words to police and emergency services as they moved. For a moment, they were lost for direction until a bright gout of flame caught their attention from half a block away. If that wasn''t enough, then the sight and sound of people screaming as they ran away certainly gave them an idea of where to go. Turning another corner, Battery leapt forward without a word, clearing several dozen meters of fencing to land on another street entirely, her fist striking the asphalt at the same time as her bent legs to support her impact. Several yards in front of her, her husband landed with much more grace than she could ever manage. Normally, he would rib her for her somewhat unsteady landings but the two Protectorate capes remained absolutely silent as they took in the street in front of them. An overturned SUV sat there in the middle of a half-empty street, it''s tires melted into slag as the wheels turned listlessly. Shattered windows showed off the unmoving, blood-covered passengers inside, some still in their seats as they hung upside down by the grace of their seatbelts and one slumped on the upside-down roof of the vehicle. Empire tattoos were visible on at least two shaved heads and what were certainly illegal guns on the asphalt, scattered on the asphalt around the car. Fuck. Battery''s eyes flicked to the top of the vehicle where a familiar vigilante crouched with bent knees, still smiling like nothing at all had happened. Her heart beat loud in her ears again as they locked eyes, her attention suddenly focused on him as she felt that familiar annoyance(?) rise up from nowhere. Fuck. "Man, you guys sure took your time." "... Are they alive?" Battery asked quickly, not willing to give him a chance to work whatever Master effect he had. "Answer." "Yeah¡­" His smile widened as he rose to a standing position. "For now, at least." Hardkour made to jump down from the overturned vehicle, humming some pointless tune as he did so. Before his feet could hit the ground, both Battery and Assault burst forward, both of them moving as fast as they could to neutralize the kid before he could escape again. He opened his mouth wide and Battery''s eyes widened in shock as a burst of flame leapt from the depths of his throat, long and thin but dangerous all the same. She moved quickly, slamming her husband to the side with a shove and darting to the side herself. To her surprise, the fire died out before it neared where both she and Assault had stood, but she didn''t allow herself to freeze. She lunged at the kid once more, bursting forward as she spent several seconds of her charge to electromagnetically tear the bumper of the car off as the kid stood in front of it, hoping to trap him in between her and it. She wasn''t prepared as Hardkour threw himself backwards and over the bumper like an Olympic jumper from a standstill. In the same moment, he lashed out with an upside-down bicycle kick, striking the bumper perfectly and sent it hurtling directly toward a surprised Battery still in motion. Battery slapped aside the front guard away with a grunt and continued her charge. Time slowed down even further for her as the kid side-stepped, moving even faster than normal as he bounced on the balls of his feet like a trained boxer. She swung. Two blows. Three. Four. Five. Delivered in the blink of an eye. He ducked each one like it was child''s play. "Battery." Assault''s voice came in through her headpiece. "I circled around. Pincer move on my signal. Three¡­" She kept swinging at the kid, changing the rhythm and speed of her blows as she attempted to trip him up with a change in tempo. Thinker, maybe? "Two¡­" Each blow was dodged with the same ease, the kid not even trying to escape her reach as he avoided each punch. Accelerated perception, definitely. "Now!" Pushing down the rising frustration she felt, she charged forward again as Assault burst out from behind the SUV like a rocket, intent on spearing the kid with a tackle. Hardkour''s fist lashed out for the first time, driving itself into her gut and slamming all the air out of her lungs and forcing bile up her throat as she nearly fell to her knees, only for him to duck aside at the very last instant. For the third time that night, Battery found herself in a head-on collision with her husband. She stumbled back as Assault rebounded off her body and towards Hardkour again. Their target leapt aside to avoid the kinetic''s second lunge, body on a straight shot toward the wall of some random building. Sneakered feet met brick wall in a sudden leap and Hardkour slammed off it, forcing himself into the air as Assault slid to a halt on the ground below. Hardkour dropped to the ground as Battery steadied herself and Assault came to a stop, still grinning at the both of them. "Assault." He glanced in her direction for a second, not keeping his gaze off the kid quite yet. "Yeah?" "Call... call Velocity." The kid let out a laugh at that. "And, that''s my cue. This was kinda-sorta-maybe fun. You guys coulda tried harder and I''d love to give you pointers, but now I gotta split." "As if we''d let you," Battery spat. "You''re not getting away if we can help it." "That''s the thing." Hardkour shook his head. "You can''t." Before either her or Assault could make a move, the teenager suddenly spun on his feet, both arms thrown back behind him as he leaned forward. Battery''s eyes widened as the kid suddenly took off down the street, bursting away at a speed that had to be at least double what she could manage at her very best. Assault blinked as Hardkour vanished around the corner. "...Huh." He glanced back at Battery, hand on his chin. "Huh." Battery lifted a hand under her visor, pinching the bridge of her nose tight. "Please don''t say it." "Honey, how do you feel about kids?" "... I said please." Covid and Viral Pneumonia Hey guys, I''ve had COVID since my birthday on the 9th. It''s been pretty serious. I''m in the hospital right now on an oxygen machine and an IV. It''s really not fun, especially when I get my blood taken like three or four times a day. Really doesn''t help that I can''t get a good night''s sleep without someone checking my vitals every two to three hours either. The less to be said about hospital food, the better, am I right? If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Anyway, jokes aside, I''ve been on an oxygen machine and expensive rationed antivirals being pumped into me for the last few days. I haven''t been able to write or even do so much as look at a computer screen for a long period of time. I even tried to make a video explaining it while in the hospital for those of you who support me on Patreon but doing it on mobile just gave me a serious, serious migraine. I will try again, though. The story is not abandoned. Covid is just kicking my ass. I''ve been unable to work, walk, eat or even sleep properly and the less can be said about working out the better. Breathing is its own exercise right now and it''s not exactly a fun one. I dont plan on abandoning you guys or the story at all and I hope you don''t give up on me just cause I caught covid at the worst time. I once again want to thank everyone who does so for supporting me on Patreon and it really does my heart good that you like my writing. I know it can be slow going but I try really hard to hit certain notes with it so you''re at least left satisfied with almost every new chapter. It''s the least I can do given your guys patience. Thanks for being there for me. Cutscene: Power Struggles Cutscene: Power Struggle ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? May 10, 2011 1:07 AM Asada Seo was considered by some to be a big man, at least in the physical definition of the word. Standing straight, he measured up at just a little more than an inch or so over six feet without shoes. Tall for a Japanese man. Tall for most Asian men, he knew that much. A few years of being in the ABB had done it''s part to disabuse him of the notion that he was anywhere near the average when it came to something that obvious. It wasn''t quite as easy to see at the moment, what with him sitting side saddle on his motorcycle the same as the few men he had brought along with him, but he knew if he were to stand, he would tower above every single one of them. Lung liked shit like that. Shit that showed strength. Five years of running protection for the man in his own neighborhood has taught Seo that much. Whether it was just looks or actual strength, the dragon wasn''t really picky, a simple fact Seo had picked up on pretty quickly. After all, why else would you lift up some random nineteen-year old wannabe above older, more experienced, and definitely more hardened criminals? Didn''t make much sense otherwise. The young man raised a hand to his face and rubbed the scruff that dotted his chin as he continued to wait. The cold night air didn''t bother him much as he rolled his thoughts around in his head, the conversation of his boys around him nothing more than background noise. The only other option Seo had ever given much thought to was that Lung was looking to instill loyalty when he chose his underlings. Again, something Seo really doubted when it came to Lung. After years of working for the dragon, he learned that the man assumed they were all loyal anyway, at least in the face of his strength. Not like the choice was ever really in their hands, from the way Seo saw it. You only ever had two choices when it came to the dragon boss, anyway. One, never ever let Lung think you were anything but loyal. Two, burn. No one ever went with number two. At least, not by choice, anyway. Plenty of people ended up going the second route no matter what they wanted, their choices not really mattering to Lung when the dragon got his blood up. The cape leading the ABB had a bad habit of offing the people that pissed him off the most. Far too often, that was those that worked directly under him. It had started way back in the day with the old collection of oyabun that ran the gangs when he arrived in the bay and it continued with Lung''s lieutenants every now and again. Sometimes, the big man didn''t even feel bothered to do the deed himself. You simply entered the restaurant for a nice meal and just never left the kitchens. The funny thing was that sort of thing never seemed to happen to the guys running the shadier shit. Even Lung needed to get his dick wet on the regular, scaly as it might have fucking been, and those scummy fucks had it good for almost a whole decade untouched¡­ Well, at least they had until some kid fucked their shit up in a permanent way. Somehow, the cops and PRT suddenly had lists and names of every place and person of importance when it came to that side of the ABB, even the ones outside the bay strictly. Most would have blamed one Big Ken, but word going around was that he died the same day his restaurant did, done in by the Empire. Purity, Hookwolf and Stormtiger had made themselves real fucking visible that whole week, all throughout ABB territory. It would have been the smart bet to figure one of them had gutted the rich fuck for all his secrets and, well¡­ his guts. Seo knew better, though. He knew way better than most. The twenty-something removed a hand from his jacket pocket and raised it to his mouth to place a single loose cigarette in his mouth. He scrambled through the pocket of his jeans for a few seconds more with a slight frown on his face, only for his expression to turn up slightly as his hand came free once more, this time with a silver lighter in his grip. As he hummed the theme to some show he vaguely remembered, the Japanese man cupped the butane lighter to the cigarette he held between his lips, only to pause. His lips shifted around the cigarette in his mouth as his men began to go silent. Seo glanced up, frowning slightly as he spotted one of the first few cars pull into the mostly empty parking lot, the sound of hard rubber on gravel and an idling engine drowning out most other noise as over a dozen cars of similar make and model began to enter the lot. I told these idiots to split up and stagger¡­ A sigh escaped him a moment later, the taste of nicotine already filling his mouth and nose. The first car came to a stop just meters from him and his boy''s motorbikes, several more following behind in a constant stream that went on for at least a minute. What part of ''low fuckin'' profile'' is hard to understand? He felt his eye twitch at the familiar noise of loud Korean rap blasting from several colorful vehicles entering last. Fuckers never listen to common sense. Seo let his eyes drop as he muttered curses under his breath, the man taking a moment to calm himself as he breathed in the stick of nicotine in his mouth. Seconds passed and Seo took another drag, mutterings turning to curses as he heard car door after car door open and shut. The former ABB lieutenant opened one eye to a cry of "Seo!" as a much shorter and much wider man dressed in a bright red tracksuit slammed shut the passenger door of the sedan nearest to Seo and his group of bikers. Seo, in comparison, had on a white dress shirt under a black-and-white motorcycle jacket, the first few buttons of his shirt left to display his tattooed bare chest and golden chain. A pair of black jeans and matching motorcycle boots completed the ensemble as he remained seated on the side of his custom bike. Making his way over with the three men who had ridden with him, the Chinese gangster gave him a smile as wide as it was mocking as he threw his ring-laden hands out and let out another shout of "Seo!" "Wei...," Seo raised a hand in a lazy wave as he returned the greeting with a much calmer and quieter response. Much like Seo, Zhu Wei was considered by some to be a big man in the ABB on his own merits. Unlike Seo, though, Wei was somewhat lacking in height, even for the average man. Still, despite being somewhat short, the Chinese man far made up for it in sheer bulk, the once muscle-obsessed man having let himself go a good bit over the years. Both him and Seo had also served directly under Lung, and then for a very short while under his replacement, the two of them being minor players that Lung had chosen to raise higher above others. Wei had been friendly with a few of Lung''s trusted people - the late Big Ken among them - and used that to weasel his way into a lieutenant position years before Seo ever even joined. Past that, the only similarity they shared was the hate they had for each other''s guts and their mutual awareness of that. "I see you¡­ You..." Seo''s eyes flicked down and back up again as he gave the other former ABB leader a once-over and then over to the group gathering behind him. It was through great effort that he restrained himself from frowning again, despite how much he wanted to. "Wow. You¡­ brought..." Asada Seo nodded his head in Wei''s direction, barely able to spit out the rest of the sentence, growing irritation close to turning his vision as red as the other man''s tracksuit. Zh¨± Wei glanced over his shoulder as a sizable mob of Chinese men and more than a few women formed up in the parking lot behind him, most of them young enough to barely be out of college at best. Even to the eye of an unaware bystander, they would clearly stand out as ABB, tattoos and fucking weapons visible on at least a few of them. The fact that they all wore red prominently somewhere on their bodies - caps, shirts, bandanas - only furthered that image¡­ Granted, that didn''t mean much anymore as the ABB colors of red and green had been left in the past. Over the last two weeks, what was left of the ABB had begun to splinter without any of their former cape leadership to keep them united through fear. Chinese gangsters had taken to wearing red, Koreans to blue, and the Japanese - especially those who still followed his lead - stuck to white. It didn''t take a genius to see that all the splintering has formed along racial lines, not unlike what the situation had been before Lung. The main difference was that, instead of following the lead of old and experienced bosses, they were being led by new, young faces. Well¡­ Seo raised an eyebrow as he slowly took in the older man''s girth again. Mostly, I guess. Already pushing that pointless thought aside, Seo also did his best to ignore the fact that he and his own boys were outnumbered by at least five to one, but that was much harder to push down when he knew exactly the kind of person he was dealing with. Huh. His eyes scanned the crowd again, slower this time, visibly taking the time to inspect almost every single person in front of him. Apart from almost a dozen near the front, most everyone else the former lieutenant had brought along with him was fresh-faced and barely blooded, ABB in name only. Oh, you fat fuck. Wei seemed to have brought along nothing but gofers, dumb muscle and whoever else was awake this early in the morning. It would be a miracle if anyone in the crowd did anything as important as picking up protection money. So, he didn''t bring anyone he couldn''t afford to lose, Seo concluded, fighting the expression that threatened to take over his face. Don''t give yourself away. You figured this would happen. "Ah, yeah, all this." Wei turned back to Seo, a smile spreading across his face as he let out a small chuckle, "I know you said only a few, but a couple more of my boys wanted to hear this deal of yours. You know how it is, big man." "A couple," Seo repeated, tone betraying nothing. "A little more than a couple, but you get it." Wei''s smile shifted into a smirk as greasy as his forehead, the overweight gangster picking at the heavy gold chains he wore over the tracksuit top that strained a bit too tight against his prominent gut. "That gonna be a problem?" For a few moments, there was relative silence in the parking lot, Seo''s own men tensing quietly behind him as he stared down Wei with an incomprehensible look. "Nah, nah," the much bigger man waved his hand with far more energy than he felt, laughing off the growing attention. A second later, Wei joined in, his laugh more raspy than Seo''s but just as sincere. It''s not like you basically screamed from the fucking roof that some ABB shit is going on right fucking here. "Nah, it''s no problem. Least you made it." "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Sure." Wei let out another chuckle as Seo rolled his eyes, the sound trailing off until both men were staring at each other again, their gathered lackeys doing much the same. "So, Seo," Wei broke the silence again, his volume somewhat raised. "What''s this deal about? You know, the one you couldn''t tell me about over the phone?" "Couldn''t t-?" Seo muttered to himself for a moment, cigarette in hand, before pausing as his eyes flicked over to the crowd in front of him, his eyes meeting those of several of Wei''s men before dropping back down again to the former weightlifter. Oh¡­ so, that''s how we''re playing it. Unable to help himself, the taller man let out a short bark of laughter, to the visible surprise of Wei and several others. "Man, I can''t believe it," Seo let out another snort before returning the cigarette to his mouth. "I can''t fuckin'' believe it." He shook his head disbelievingly, and shrugged his shoulders as casually as he could. "Wei, I don''t know how but it must have slipped my mind. I honestly swear¡­" He paused mid-sentence, eyes hard and mouth a thin line before he spoke again, this time with a deeper edge to his voice. "... but what I don''t get is how the fuck I forgot to tell you the biggest fucking news I''ve heard in a while." "...Yeah," Wei coughed, looking off to the side. "No fucking idea either." "You showed up anyway, though," Seo continued, not even trying to hide the sneer on his face anymore as he blew out a stream of cigarette smoke. "Brought a whole squad with you, too. ''Cause why, man? Just cause you were curious?" "Seo, c''mon¡­ c''mon, man," Zh¨± Wei spoke up again, still wearing a smile as he raised his hands as if to calm the larger man. "Don''t be like that. It''s not that serious." Seo let out a scoff behind closed teeth, the noise coming off as more of a hiss as he shook his head. "If you say so, bro." "...''sides," Wei continued. "It ain''t just me. The boys wanted to hear you out too. Why don''t you tell them the big news? See what they think about it?" The confused looks he was getting from Wei''s "boys" didn''t make the man''s lies sound anymore convincing, not that Seo wasn''t aware he was full of shit already. Frankly, he was pretty sure almost all of Wei''s "boys" knew how full of shit the older man was, even the ones that hadn''t followed the man to this meet-up. The Japanese gangster felt his left eye twitch, the taste of ash in his mouth as he bit down on his cigarette. Fat fucking bastard. Can''t even lie for shit. Biting his tongue before those words could escape him, Seo nodded his head slowly as he leaned back on his bike. "... Alright." Raising his voice to make sure he was heard, Seo began as bluntly as possible. "If you ain''t a complete retard, you know the ABB is more than in the fucking ground. To this city, to this people, we''re all dead men fucking walking. Even our own¡­ our own neighborhoods look at us like shit now. You''ve seen it. You lived it." His mouth turned down into a furious scowl as he saw several of Wei''s people shaking their heads. "Don''t you play fucking stupid with me! You know exactly what the fuck I''m talking about so don''t act like I''m spitting bullshit!" Seo took in a hissed breath from between gritted teeth, clicking his tongue as he turned his head to the side for a moment. "They look at us like shit, you know it. They don''t say it but you see it in their eyes. You get the same looks. And, you know what?" His nose crinkled slightly as he breathed in again, cigarette smoke filling his nostrils. "I don''t blame ''em. They''re our people, on our territory. And we fucked them over." The general mutters from both in front of him and behind him seemed to agree, encouraging Seo to press forward. Rather than say anything else, he opened up his biker''s jacket, exposing the lining and went for the inner pocket. Ignoring the tensing of Wei and several of his men, Seo pulled out a green-colored packet of cigarettes, a smiling green worm with a cigarette in it''s mouth on the cover as it poked its body out of a bright red apple. "I buy this shit every week at the same convenience store since my ass was eighteen. Wu''s Market, if you know it, you know it." More nods and mutters of agreement met his statement, albeit with some clear confusion as to where he was going. "Uncle Wu was family to me, you know," the smoking gangster continued. "He was family to a bunch of us. I''ve known that old man my whole fucking life and I didn''t say a goddamn word when Bakuda put her shit in his skull. I pussied out cause I didn''t¡­" Seo paused to blow out another gray plume of smoke, digits tense around the cigarette in his hand. Any tenser, and the man knew he would be holding nothing but ashes and paper. "Look, I pussied out. Didn''t say shit cause I wasn''t looking for that bitch to put one in mine either. We all shut up and followed orders, let some random cape who just joined up do whatever the fuck she wanted and we got fuck-shit for all of it. What we got was a shit-ton of our people getting free brain surgery and every fucking person looking at us like monsters. Be a hell of a lot better if they were wrong, shit." His other hand tightened around the pack of cigarettes as he shook his head again. "Fuck, I couldn''t even look Wu''s fucking daughter in the eye when I bought this shit today. Y''know what? Any fucking one of us could have put a bullet in that fucking cape''s head. She ain''t bulletproof. She can''t heal. We coulda capped her twice and we''d be good right now." Seo returned the green packet to his pocket and, in the same motion, took the lit cigarette out of his mouth. "Fuck this shit. Look..." A large gray cloud of smoke escaped his lips, the gangster releasing a sigh as he felt his nerves ease slightly with the action. "I''m fucking tired of all this. I know you are too. Bakuda fucked us, yeah?" He raised an eyebrow a moment later at the sudden "Yeah!" he received in return from Wei''s crew and some of his own as well. Judging by the slight jump Wei was trying to play off as nothing, the fat man wasn''t expecting it either. Wasnt looking for an answer, but whatever. "Yeah, Bakuda fucked us¡­" Seo paused to take a smoke-free breath, "but Lung ain''t do us any favors either. That bastard never cared about a single fucking thing but his own rep." The voices of agreement began to peter out with the quickness Seo had expected before he finished the sentence. Before anyone could interject, the Japanese gang leader quickly continued his statement, an added edge to his tone as he raised voice. "Don''t start that fake fuckin'' loyalty bullshit. The dragon''s caged up and he ain''t getting out so there''s no getting fried for speakin'' up. Now, listen, yeah? Look, Bakuda was AIDS but Lung was fuckin'' cancer. The fucker was killing us for years with his bullshit." "Ey, Seo," Wei drawled, shaking his head slowly as he kept eye contact with the taller man. "You''re talking some crazy shit right now. Lung made us, made the ABB. Man kept our people safe." "Did he, really?" Seo scoffed out loud, exhaling another lungful of smoke. Even still, he had to admit that Wei had something of a point. He ain''t wrong with the first part, though. At best, half of one. "Yeah, yeah, he did," Wei continued, edges of his mouth tilting up into a smirk. "I don''t appreciate the shit coming out of your mouth about the boss. You know no one fucked with us or our territory with him around." "Yeah?" Seo bit back. "''cause I think you''re fuckin'' confused right now. We got fucked with all the goddamn time. Lung made it worse cause that motherfucker had to scale up every few weeks and swing his dick into Empire territory." "That''s not li-" "How many times we get the fucking Nazis wrecking our shit, leaving random bodies as a message to teach the ABB a lesson, especially after Lung picked a fight and got his ass chased out?" Seo spat out, annoyance coloring his tone. "Man didn''t give a shit about us, ''bout people he said he was about. He got free and didn''t say shit to Bakuda about this suicide bomb brain surgery shit." Seo took another pull from the nicotine stick between his fingers, keeping eye contact with Wei as he did so, as if daring the shorter man to contradict his words. "Cape just ran to another fuckin'' fight and got his ass beat for the second time." "Oi, Seo!" Wei barked at him. "You going too fucking far." "Yeah?" The Japanese gangster snorted at Wei''s words. "Still ain''t wrong, though. The fucker was killing us for years with his bullshit." As Wei bit back whatever he was going to say next with a constipated look, Seo took another pull from his cancer stick. Lung¡­ Lung had operated like a fuckin'' idiot. Years of working for the man had taught him that much. The cape was strong, sure, but he felt that his strength was all that mattered. He didn''t know shit about much else apart from his pride and how best to kill whoever pissed him off the most. And look where that got him. The dragon they had been forced to serve had basically pressed everyone between the ages of fifteen to fifty within his organization. If you were some type of Asian, you were ABB and that was the way Lung wanted it¡­ the fucking idiot. It didn''t help thing much that most of the city was now suspicious of anyone of Asian descent, thanks to Lung''s retarded fucking recruitment style. The ones that ain''t some kind of suspicious, he breathed out another lungful of smoke, are just better at fuckin'' hiding it. "The dragon¡­" Seo raised an eyebrow, pulled from his thoughts as Wei spoke up again, "he killed the old men. Every oyabun¡­ of every Asian gang in this city." "Your point?" "He kept us, chose us, let us live, the kobun¡­" From the way Wei seemed to be looking past him instead of at him as he continued, the other gangster was sure the discussion, as it was, was no longer much of one. "As long as we didn''t fail him. As long as we stayed loyal. He''d protect us, our homes, our part of the city¡­" "And how''s that working out for us, Wei?" "You would know better than me, Seo," Wei barked back, "considering you''re the one kneeling down to kiss the boots of some fuckin'' gu¨«l¨£o brat." The silence between the two of them would have been deafening, if the murmurs breaking out from the men behind and in front of Seo weren''t loud enough to be overheard. Seo froze for a moment, cigarette held just inches from his lips, and turned his gaze back down to Wei. He felt a twinge of rage run through him as he shuddered, and judging by the sudden silence from several of his own boys, even they noticed. After a moment, the gangster slowly and carefully placed the cigarette back in his mouth. "Ain''t no one kissin'' any fucking boots, you hear me?" Seo replied as calmly as he could manage. "Yeah, I bet. Ain''t this boss the same little shit that wrecked half your old crew?" Seo let out a grunt despite himself. After a moment, he caught himself. "It was war. We shot at him. You know how it is." "Yeah, yeah, I bet," Wei''s smirk returned. "By the way, what happened to that shit fucking sword you used to wave around, Seo? Didn''t that same brat pick it off you?" "... We made a deal for it." "I bet you fuckin'' did," Wei''s smirk widened, the man patting his stomach. "Did you make a deal to suck his little white dick too or you just do it for free?" "Listen up, you fat fuck! I made a fuckin'' deal to save our asses!" The calm left as quickly as it arrived. "Hell of a lot more than you''re doing stirring up trouble!" "Oh yeah, big man?" Wei replied, a laugh on his lips as he flashed a big yellow grin in Seo''s face. "What''s this big fuckin'' deal?" "The fucking deal is you''re a greedy pig who thinks he''s hot shit," Seo hissed back at the other liutenant. "You know exactly what the fuckin'' deal is. You just wanna act tough in front of your people and make me look like some kind of bitch." "I don''t gotta make you look like anything, big man," Wei openly laughed in the taller man''s face, gut actually shaking. "You know people talk, right? I got Joon on the line the other day and he was tellin'' me some big fuckin'' secrets about the kiddy cape you makin'' all this big ''deals'' with." "Big fucki-" Seo paused as thoughts suddenly took in the other part of that sentence. Anger fell away into confusion as he spoke again. "You workin'' with Joon now?" "Working with?" Wei took a few steps more towards Seo, until the two of them were literally spitting distance from each other. "Strong words. Let''s just say that the interests of Zhu Wei and Joon Lee find themselves mutually aligned for the foreseeable future," he replied, clearly repeating words someone else had spoken to him. Seo kept his mouth in a firm line, fingers tensed around his cigarette. Joon Lee. One of the few remaining ABB higher-ups that the cops or PRT hadn''t snatched up. There was fucking good reason for that, too. College-educated and sly as hell, the Korean man was the trickiest bastard Seo had ever met in his whole life, and he always made sure never to get caught with his pants around his ankles. If Wei was a selfish, gluttonous, weasel of a man, then Joon was a slimy fucking snake. A good drinking buddy, but still. "Real question is," the Chinese man laughed out loud again, "who exactly are you working for?" "Don''t play me," Seo bit back, fighting back the anger in his voice as Wei smirked. "I''m not fuckin'' here for that shit. You know damn well who I''m working for." "Course I do. People talk, Seo. Joon got boys in jail. I got boys and girls in jail. They spread secrets," Wei''s smirk dipped slightly as he spoke, expression darkening. "Secrets about that new boss of yours that Bakuda figured out." Okay, then. "Secrets, huh?" Seo turned his head slightly, staring off into the Brockton night. The warm aroma of cigarette smoke clung to him like a security blanket, the man taking a deep sniff before he responded again. "Like what?" Wei grunted in confusion, frowning slightly before he recovered his expression. "Like you''re making deals with the same cape that took out Oni Lee and Lung!" The Chinese gangster raised his voice, clearly speaking to Seo''s men and his own more than he was actually talking to Seo at this point. "What about that, Seo? What about that?" So, that''s what we''re on now? Seo raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Ain''t much of a secret, Wei. For all I know, the boss likes playing dress-up. I don''t question it. He''s out there right now keeping the Empire out of our space and paying us to help him out with that. Got no complaints with that." "And you want us to work for the kid that fucked the whole ABB into the ground?" Now, it was Wei''s turn to scoff, the other man raising his hands in disbelief. "Are you fuckin'' serious?" Fuckin'' retard, I swear. The Japanese gangster let out a loud sigh. "I want a lot of things, Wei. A couple million in the bank, half a dozen girls on my dick, a private island somewhere in the Pacific so I can fuck ''em all day and night and pass out on a bed bigger than my mom''s old apartment." Seo took another pull from his cigarette, his thoughts moving a mile a minute until he let out another gray exhale. "What I need is someone on our side so the Empire don''t kill our families whenever they get the itch. The kid came to me for info on the Empire and I made a deal to save our fuckin'' skins." "This is bigger than you, Seo," Wei raised his voice as he glared daggers at his Japanese counterpart. "You can''t make deals for the rest of us!" Seo scoffed one more time, cigarette just brushing his lips. "At least the deals I make stick." Wei blinked. "Wha-" "The Koreans were never on your side, idiot. They''re in on my deal, if you couldn''t figure it out. Joon and Park, all the Blues, since day one. Even the other Reds, the ones that went with Chu. Matter of fact, Chu''s probably giving your boy Charlie the same message right now. Either that or Charlie''s dead," Seo added with a smile. "Long story short, we''re all tired of being shit on in this city. Only way to go from here is up." The other man seemed frozen, mouth half open as confusion and shock expressed themselves clearly across his face. "You¡­ you¡­y¡­" Wei bared his teeth, face going red as he devolved into cursing in Mandarin, pointing an angry finger at Seo as the Japanese man stood there, not understanding a single word. The Japanese man dropped his cigarette, grinding it under one boot as he stepped away from his bike. "From where I''m standing, you''re the only boss that wants to bring back what the ABB was, trying to bring us down. The rest of us¡­ we''re letting it die with Lung. If you fuck with this, you¡­" Seo Asada folded his arms, "well, you''re just gonna die." "I''m gonna die?!" Anger and hate twisted Wei''s face into something even uglier. "You fuckin'' first!" The man''s hand jabbed toward his back, reaching for an object tucked into his tight waistband. Before his fingers could close around it, the gangster froze in place again. A smile spread across Seo''s face as he witnessed Zhu Wei pale with a wiry arm wrapped around his neck, barely letting him breathe, the other arm leading to a hand firmly attached to the gun currently placed against his temple. "...whatthefuck." Seo raised his gaze to watch as just behind Wei, almost a dozen of his men found themselves in the same or similar positions as the rest of the crew Wei had brought along to this meeting as simple muscle for intimidation quickly subdued them. "...whatthefuck." "I guess I didn''t make it clear," Seo continued, stepping closer to the trembling Wei. "Most of your crew knew about the deal, fatass. You didn''t have to tell them shit. All I had to make sure they didn''t tell you or your right hands. Simple." "They¡­ th-thi¡­ what the fuck...whatthefuck?" Wei''s breath shallowed as he gasped for air, doing his best to scream and struggle even as one of his former boys pushed the gun harder against his head. "Fucking traitors! You''re all fucking traito-" "They''re not traitors, Wei. They''re loyal to this city, to their neighborhoods, to their families. Not to pig-shit like you. This was how it was always gonna go down." The Chinese man continued to struggle, face reddening from the effort even as the wiry young man continued to tighten his hold. After a few seconds more, he let out a long gasp for air, his gut expanding as the man let himself sag in defeat. "...why?" "Why? You really gotta ask that? We want our people safe. We want money in our pockets. We want less trouble, not more." "... fine. Fine, I give in, alright." Wei grunted as he spat on the ground, eyes darting from side to side angrily as sweat dripped down his reddening face. "Just¡­ just call your boys off." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Seo shook his head. "They ain''t my boys." Wei opened his mouth to ask a simple one-word question, only for it to die in his throat as a dark figure dropped into the parking lot from seemingly nowhere, gravel displaced under his feet from the sudden impact. "He''s right." Beneath a dark skull mask and a shock of thick blond hair, a mouth full of sharp white teeth grinned at him. "They''re mine." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
hero. This phenomenon is rare, yes, but not unheard of, specifically outside the United States, where the hero-villain paradigm is less clear. A superhero gaining power and influence this way rarely bodes well, for many reasons, largely personal and societal. Already being blessed with personal power and abilities that place them objectively above the average human, being granted direct control over others and influence in such a way has been seen in nearly every case to be corruptive in nature. In the same manner in which ''neighborhood protection organizations'' have devolved into the large, sprawling gangs that plague cities today, groups of normals forming around a hero eventually devolve into some manner of criminal organization, turning the aforementioned ''hero'' into nothing but a villain corrupted by power, greed and their own ego, deluding themselves that they are still ''fighting the good fight''. It is with this mindset that these former heroes continue along, going from engaging against villains and criminal activity to enforcing a proactive stance against crime in a manner that could best be described as a reckless, egomaniacal fascistic approach to community service¡­ but I digress. ¡ª Dr. Jeremiah Goldstein
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Greg Lucas Veder
Student
??Age: 15 Title: Ninja - Low Class
Level 33 Experience 24500/60000
Health 3320
Mana 1240/1240
Willpower 1245
STR 205 SPD 125 (+5)
VIT 201 INT 90
WIS 22 (-70%) CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 22 Perk Points: 10
Cash: $12,550
TRAITS +50% bonus to INT gains -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains. Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. -70% to total WIS -90% to total CHA. Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. + 9 CHA Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Greater Human The true power of human beings is that we can change ourselves on our own. Pushing yourself past the limits of what could ever be considered human, you have entered into a realm that even the most obtuse would notice as distinctly in-human. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 200 pts)
PERKS With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. Capegoat (5/5) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. Danger Sense (6/10) My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Darkvision It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Developed Mind (7/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Dragon King''s Aura (1/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Flowing Mana The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base mana recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 MP/s) Growing Will (6/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Greater Iron Body "It''s a good thing I''m so buff, or that fall would''ve killed me. " What is your body made of, exactly? It can''t be anything human. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, applying after all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest +10% of blunt damage inflicted totaling less than 5% of innate health is negated. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The clarity of your vision scales with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (10/10) Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/s)
TITLES To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Low-Class Ninja Hide in shadows and darkness. You''re a ninja! A NINJA! Cool... Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 25% and + 2 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Skills Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 19 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Analyze The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. Cost: 1 MP Dash Straight Lv 20 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter Mana Barrier Lv 6 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Mana Bolt Lv 3 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 7 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (0.5 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lv 6 Great Balls of Fire! You''re a walking firestorm, the ability to launch enough flame at once to set an entire building ablaze from hundreds of feet away. Cost: 250 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Raging Combo Lv 18 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 1 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Cost: 5 Will/s
  • Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR Cost: 50 Will, 50 HP
  • Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten.
Surface Adhesion Lv 20 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object.
  • Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 23 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (11.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv MAX Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 20 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (40%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (10%) Breath-Holding Lv 25 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (12.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 10 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 18 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (36%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 8 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (40%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (16%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 17 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (17%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 15 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 10 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. (10%) Meditation Lvl 30 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (300%) Parry Lv 17 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (34%) Reflexes II Lvl 1 That''s two bullets. Child''s play. When you can avoid six bullets, then you will have accomplished something. Decreases innate reaction time by .1% per level. (95%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 70 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (52.5%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat II Lv 4 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Reduces heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks up to 200% of health. (4%) +Complete immunity to heat damage with a magnitude up to 1% of Innate VIT Resistance: Piercing Lv 40 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (30%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 25 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (50%) Stamina Lvl 25 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (125 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 40 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (80%) Taunt Lv 19 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (38%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Covers for Arcs 1-5 Hey guys! Chapter 6.5 is almost done. I''m 5k words into what should be a 6 or 6.5k chapter. I''m just here to post some covers I had commisioned for Arcs 1-5 because apart from one site, most people haven''t gotten to see them yet and I do enjoy them a good deal. They add a bit to the story and I like the art. Hopefully, you''ll like it too. In addition, I''ve revamped my Discord, moving it from Patron only to public. Here is the invite to the Discord: https://discord.gg/5esAbCbn The Patreon is still up if you want to support me or request a commision or simply request a behind-the-scenes look at what could have been or some of my notes or some other things I''m writing, then you can do that as well on Patreon whenever you want. If you don''t know my Patreon, the Discord might have a link, I dunno. I''ve been busy working on the chapter to implement ALL the Discord goodies I want. If not, you can just google my username and Patreon together. Something should come up. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Anyway, considering Discord, I''m almost always there if you wanna chat or have a question. ARC I ARC II ARC III ARC IV ARC V ANNOUNCEMENT NOTE I already mentioned this on the Discord (Link: https://discord.gg/v4Zxd55g ) but I forgot that everybody else wouldn''t be aware of this bit of information. Anyway, I simply want everyone to know that Chapter 6.5 is already up on Patreon. It will be posted on Tuesday here and on SV, SB, and FF dot net. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. I''m still working on updating Ao3 for anyone that reads there. I just wish they had more editing options, frankly. It just feels a bit limiting. Anyway, by Thursday night, 6.6 will be completed and posted on Patreon. It won''t be updated till next Tuesday on the sites. 6.7 and onwards will follow the same pattern. I''m working towards a backlog of 3 to 5 chapters so we no longer go months without chapters. By Arc 7, I''m hoping to meet that goal. Thank you. Lag 6.5 Lag 6.5 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "There comes several times in a young person''s life when they have to make a decision. These decisions are important. These decisions are life-affirming. These decisions can and will make or break the adult you become later in life. These moments of choice are few, fleeting, and far too often, they go by unnoticed. However, I want you to trust me on this one; they are, without a doubt, sig-ni-fi-caaynt. Throughout the misadventures of your youth, you wi-Ramon!" A bored-sounding voice replied back with a "Yessir?" "Ramon, what on god''s green earth is your hand doing up. in. the. ayer?" The Ramon being addressed - first name Axel - shrugged his shoulders as he leaned forward. "Uhh¡­" He leaned forward further, allowing his raised hand to fall as he shifted positions slightly from where he sat cross-legged on the cold gym floor among a small crowd of roughly sixty other students. "Uhhh¡­ cause I have a question?" "Fine. Speak now or forever hold your peace." "...Okay?" Sparky let out a slight hum before continuing with his actual question, "Senor Wilkers, You''ve been talking for almost ten minutes now. What does any part of this speech have to do with dodgeball?" Gordon Wilkers let out a loud huff, a pair of meaty hands coming to rest on his proportionally sized hips. "Five things, young man. Uno," he slapped his chest, the thick chest and belly under his white ''Winslow Warriors'' T-Shirt jiggling slightly, "that is Coach Wilkers to you. I may have been the Spanish teacher, but with Coach Barker deciding to retire, I can now live my dream." "... of being a gym coach?" "Dos," he slapped his chest twice more, ignoring Sparky''s follow-up, "If you can''t see what my words have to do with it, you haven''t been paying attention. Tres," three more quick slaps to his chest, "I am required to spend at least ten - count ''em - ten! Minutes of every physical education class providing some sort of non-physical based education. Thank your school board for that one." "That''s dumb", spoke the student sitting right next to the aforementioned Ramon. "That''s really dumb." "Thank you, Veder, for saying the obvious and in-terr-up-ting me," Coach Willikers barked back at the amused face of the blond boy. "You never fail to be a credit to your hair color," the coach said with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, cuatro," four guesses as to what repetitive action the large man did here, "I like imparting life lessons into impressionable young minds. Ain''t that right, Gerold?" "Yes, sir," A squat, beefy redhead sitting near the front replied back, looking for all the world like a miniature version of the coach. "Yes, it is." Coach Wilkers nodded proudly and continued on with a grunt, as he held up a moderately-sized blue rubber ball for the whole class to see. "That''s why we''re here to play ball." "Follow-up question," Greg chirped, leaning forward. "De-nied." Greg simply shrugged, an amused look still on his face as he leaned back on the cold gym floor. Shooting his friend a glance, Sparky simply rolled his eyes at his friend and raised his hand again.'' "Ramon?" "Follow-up question. Isn''t dodgeball banned?" "Very good question. You can blame your school board for that too. That is exactly why," the coach began slowly as if to build up tension, "We will be playing hitball. Entirely different ball, entirely different rules¡­ which I will now explain to you." Wilkers cleared his throat a moment later, before launching into an explanation of the rules that made up what he referred to as his "all-new, all-different" game which was not at all dodgeball, in no way at all. "So, what''s up with Wilkins?" Greg let out the audible equivalent of a shrug, a single eyebrow raised as he glanced over at the coach and back again. "Honestly, I don''t know. If you ask me, those shorts are a bit high and tight but what do I know about P.E. teacher fashion?" "What?" Sparky froze, mouth open for a moment before his expression shifted from puzzlement to one of disgust. "No, brah¡­ I mean, what''s his attitude about? Man''s been giving you the stinkeye since I walked in." "-e makeup of this ball, specifically the rubber compounds¡­" "Oh, oh yeah, that." Greg clicked his teeth, mouth scrunched up in a way that made his expression hard to decipher. "Welllll, he might have asked me what I was ''on'' and kinda got pissy when I said this was pure natty." "Ohhhh," Sparky vocalized, tone making clear his realization. "He got mad ''cause he thought you were lying to him." "I mean¡­" the blond in blue shorts pulled a face as he gave his friend a shrug. "I guess that might be technically it, but I''m pretty sure it''s ''cause I wouldn''t share what I was using." "-p to five percent softer than the average dodgeball but with a greater tensile..." "How do you figure?" "Well, I did hear him call me a selfish little prick under his breath," Greg answered back with a smile, "so, using my expert powers of deduction, I came to a conclusion." "Huh." "Yeah," the blond agreed. "Two other dudes asked me the same thing this morning and I just don''t get why everybody thinks I''m doing ''roids. I like my nuts the way they are, y''know?" "Yeah, brah, I''m sure," Sparky rolled his eyes again, "but if I had to guess, I''d prolly go with the fact that Mal''s been spreading that rumor for a while now." "What?" Greg hissed, albeit with no actual anger in his voice. "Wait, which Mal?" His friend shot him a pointed look. "I dunno, Sherlock Bonehead, try the one who usually picks on you? The one we have a bunch of classes with? The one whose head you used to dent a locker?" "Huh." "Yeah," Sparky agreed. After a moment of quiet thought, Greg made a simple announcement, low enough that even if anyone was listening, only he and Sparky would hear. "Imma kick his ass." "..." After letting out a tired sigh, Sparky raised his head and pushed aside his bangs to ask a simple question. "Fine, I''ll bite. Why?" "To teach him a lesson." After a moment, Greg hummed. "Also, just ''cause." "Please don''t." "What?" Greg whined under his breath. "I''m just saying that Winslow would be a ton more fun if it was a shonen battle high school." "Yes," Sparky replied in a monotone. "Wannabe Nazis, wannabe drug lords and wannabe Yakuza running around a shonen-level fighting school would be a great idea." "Exactly." At this, the blond craned his head, glancing back at the far corner of the gym where Mal sat with some of his friends. Sparky could only watch as the taller boy locked eyes with Greg, and in response, his friend slowly raised a middle finger toward his former bully as a greeting. Sparky wasn''t sure it was possible for a vein to be visible from so far away and yet... Greg Veder let his mouth open wide into a grin, one that Sparky had been growing too familiar with for comfort over the last month and a half. "Well, now it''s up to him." "You know I really don''t get why you bother." Sparky shook his head, a slight noise of disgust leaving his throat. "He can''t touch you but you still fuck with him anyway for shits and giggles." The other teen looked puzzled for a moment, grin returning almost an instant later. "...Well, you kinda do get it, then." A pair of amber eyes narrowed. "And you don''t think that''s bad?" Greg met Sparky''s gaze, unwavering blue meeting slitted amber. "Well, I''m not the bad guy. I''m the hero," he dropped his volume even lower, leaning forward as he whispered the two syllables. "I mean, I could do whatever I want to him and that still wouldn''t change." "... I don''t think that''s how that works, brah." Rather than answer, the blond just relaxed his grin into an amused smile, and after a moment or two, simply shrugged. "Eh." A few long seconds of silence passed between the friends as they stared each other down, the quiet broken up only by the background muttering of their classmates and Coach Wilkin''s voice booming throughout the gym as he explained exactly how the new balls were much less likely to give them brain damage. "You know, all things considered," Greg jabbed a thumb in the coach''s direction, his mouth concealed by the back of his left hand, "I''m kinda getting a vibe for why Senor Wilkers got denied the P.E. job before. I mean..." The blond let himself trail off, tongue out and eyes crossed as he jabbed his index finger toward his temple and drew lazy circles in the air with it. "You get me?" Sparky stifled a snort, his mild annoyance fighting to make itself known over the urge he was feeling to just let himself laugh and relax. "I''ve been saying that since last year, brah." "-nd that''s how hitball works." "Wait, that sounds exactly like dodgeball, though!" Both Greg and Sparky snapped their attention back to the coach as another student yelled out his opposition to the large man''s proposed game. "And to-may-to sounds like to-mah-to," Wilkers barked back. "What''s your point, young man?" This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "That they''re the s-" "Aaaand, that''s ten minutes exactly. Grab your balls and let''s get going!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C It didn''t take long for Axel to remember exactly why he didn''t miss playing dodgeball. Hitball, he sarcastically reminded himself in his head. Entirely different games, he says. Granted, it was a little more different than he expected. Considering they were divided into thirty teams of two and each person had to get hit three times to be considered out, the game had a bit more to it than a simple game of dodgeball. "Jesus!" Thing about it, though, was the fact it was pretty hard to remember that little tidbit about the naming structure of whatever the coach wanted to call the fucking game when he was stuck doing more fucking dodging than any actual hitting with said balls. Who actually enjoys this shit? "Booo-frickin-ya!" Sparky groaned as his partner began gloating again, the yellow ball he had just caught in one hand raised high like a trophy. "You''re out, sucka! Hit the bleaches like the rest of the losers! My ball now!" Before Sparky could even open his mouth to tell him to cut it out, Greg let out a grunt worthy of a tennis player - his way of faking effort in a throw - and tossed the banana-colored ball at one of the few teams nearest them. "Aren''t you gonna brain anyone with a ball?" Sparky asked his friend. "Might make the class end quicker." "Wha-" Greg let out a bark of laughter, the blond tilting his head as a blue rubber ball sped past where his cranium just was, only to laugh again as he glanced back at Sparky. "Jesus, I almost thought you were for real." "Honestly," Sparky continued, voice edged with irritation, "I''m debating it ." "Well, if you were being a Serious Sparky, first, I''d say that murder is bad, mmmkay?" The other boy raised an eyebrow. "Hasn''t stopped you before." "Y segundo, mi compadre," Greg continued in badly accented Spanish, completely ignoring Sparky''s statement, "why would I wanna share the spotlight with anyone but my best bud? Look at us, we''re killing it out here!" "You mean, you," Sparky corrected with a roll of his eyes, doing his best to ignore the sweat dripping down his brow. "You''re killing it." "Splitting hairs." "Fuck your hair," Sparky hissed as he held back a yelp from a ball that whizzed a bit too close to his head for comfort. He really couldn''t help but get annoyed looking at the blond next to him, his hair especially serving as a source of irritation. The fucking thing isn''t even damp! Sparky groused. It was true, there was no denying that much just from looking at his partner. Greg''s face was as dry as the moment he had changed for gym, and not a single drop of sweat could be seen on him. Fuckin'' disgusting is what it is. Oh, sure, he knew it wasn''t fair or even fucking logical to actually be annoyed at Greg for his powers, but considering the fact that he was already annoyed at his friend for much more than that, Sparky didn''t really see the point in letting this one go. Fuck! The boy in yellow shorts yanked himself out of his thoughts as he batted away a purple ball launched towards his chest using his own hitball, and threw himself to the side a moment later to avoid another one aimed at center mass. Jesu- He couldn''t even get the thought out before he was forced to duck backwards again to avoid another ball, but even as he stepped forward to right himself, his eyes widened. One foot in front of the other was simple enough. Not so much when your legs were all twisted up trying to dodge a series of hard rubber balls. Shit! He bit back a grunt as he slammed onto the floor, palms out as he landed in a general approximation of a pushup position. Even as his palms stung and his arms strained from the impact, he only let out a quiet, disgruntled "...o-kay, then." "You good, Ax?" Sparky glanced up at Greg''s slightly worried-looking face staring back down at him and once again bit something back, this time the urge to reply sarcastically. It took even more willpower not to reply the same way a half-second later as Greg simply tilted his head out of the way of a ball aimed at the back of his skull - without even looking - just to catch it with the palm of one hand and toss it back without missing a beat. All in one single motion that looked almost too fucking smooth to be possible. To add insult to injury, he tossed a middle finger over his shoulder at the thrower, the person letting out a pained scream as the ball hit home. Real subtle there. Sparky''s eye twitched. "Yeah, fine." "Good." His mouth quirked up into a smirk. "Now, get up. We''re still in the game." "We''re still in the game," Sparky mocked under his breath. Almost thirty minutes into gym class and this asshole hasn''t even worked up a sweat. As Sparky rose to his feet, the teenager raised an arm to wipe the moisture from his own face. Whatever, least I didn''t break my fucking nose or something. The thought came and left an instant before his eyes widened again, his hand coming away from his eyes just in time for him to catch sight of another red rubber ball. This one rocketing right at his face. And of fucking course. The hard sound of rubber and skin sounded off a scant moment later. "The f-" Sparky could only blink in complete surprise as he stared at the back of the pale palm just inches from his face. Before he could even jump back in surprise, he watched as Greg Veder launched the ball back where it came from with more force than anything else he had let fly the entire class. The red streak blurred across the gym on a seeking path toward it''s target, the one person who had thrown it. All Sparky could do was let out a surprised bark of a laugh as the projectile hit home with full force, smashing into Mal Duncan''s shocked face the way only a properly thrown dodgeball could. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The bottle blond stumbled back, hands clutching the front of his face, as a stream of blood made its way through his tightly clasped fingers. "FUCKKK!" A stream of less-intelligible profanities followed that one as he leaned back into the wall his group of fellow wannabe Nazis had formed behind him. "Ouchie ouch, my hand." Greg Veder shook his fingers as he took a few steps closer to the bleeding Empire junior, the shorter teen letting out a slight groan of pain that rang false to anyone paying close attention. "Man, I bet that''s gonna cramp up later." He glanced up at Mal, head tilted to the side, and let his hand fall to his side as he grinned at the furiously bleeding teenager trying to bite down his very real pain. "But your nose, though¡­ What is that now? Twice in four hours that I smashed it?" "I swear to God, Veder!" is what Mal tried to say but with his hands clutching his nose, it could really have been anyone''s guess, honestly. Fortunately, Greg guessed correctly. "I have to wonder if God would ever answer Nazi prayers, y''know considering you all share some very differing ideas on the Jews." His grin grew, Greg shooting the larger boy a look that screamed ''I''m not taking this seriously'', because of course he wasn''t. The super-powered sophomore was doing his best to pull back on every hit, though, while at the same time trying hard to make every swing look like it actually took effort. It''s way more of a struggle, Greg groused to himself. All this acting like I''m normal. Granted, he had the ''roids excuse to fall back on at least. Who knows how long that one''s gonna last, though? Greg caught a swing from Mal and struck back, his knuckles making contact with the junior''s upper torso. "Although, I''m pretty sure the Big Guy killed a ton of Jews one way or another, so maybe he would. It''d be a sick world if God was a Nazi but y''know, kinda funny, right?" The last syllable was punctuated with the sound of an unyielding fist on flesh, Mal not being quick enough to avoid a purposely slow punch. "What? That too much for you?" The junior growled, teeth bared as he rushed the other teenager. Greg grinned. "Think fast, chucklenuts!" Deftly avoiding Malcolm''s blind swing, he retaliated with one more quick jab to his former bully''s stomach. It wasn''t much, really, but it did the job. Mal''s back slammed into the chain link fence to the accompanying noise of rattling metal and his own groans, the bully grunting loudly as he made impact with his friends not there in time to keep him upright. The bottle blond hunched over with a hand on his chest as he tried his best to rise to his feet, making noises that made him sound more like a rather pissed-off zombie than anything else. "Jeez, Mal, you gotta be in a lot of pain right now. If I was you, I''d quit while I was¡­ behind? Conscious? Breathing?" Greg let out another laugh before pausing after a second or so. Eyebrow raised, he glanced around the gathered mob of students crowding the alley, all of them here to watch the fight. Not a single one of them were even so much as snickering at his attempt at a joke. Well, I thought it was funny, at least. He fought the urge to frown, mood picking up again as he glanced down at Mal. "Whatever, anyway, just give up, man. You gotta be feeling this ass-kicking in your bones by now." Malcolm raised his head from his position on the ground to shoot the shorter boy a look filled with equal parts pain and rage, Greg smiling at Mal as if daring him to try something. "I don''t feel shit!" "Ooh, Zen Bullyism. Nice." "Kick her in the balls!" Greg grinned. "You hear that? That''s my boyfriend hyping me up. It''s the sound of sweet, sweet bromance uninhibited by racial boundaries." "Gaaaaaay!" "Love you too, Sparkplug." Both the bully''s hands dropped to his sides, fingers tightening into fists as knuckles cracked menacingly and for a few seconds of hateful glaring, the Empire wannabe appeared to be on the verge of action. "H-how?" "How am I kicking your ass?" Greg shrugged. "Practice? Luck? Expensive Tinker steroids?" He said the last part in a low voice and a playful wink in Mal''s direction. "All of the above? "I swear¡­" Mal bit out through gritted teeth as he stood back up straight, shaking his head as if to push away the pain through that physical action. "What was that?" Greg mocked, surveying his bloodied hand as if he just received a fresh manicure. "Seriously, it all sounds like trombone noises to me every time you open your mouth." "I''m¡­ I¡­ You..." "I-I-I-Ay-yi-yi, spit it out," Greg interrupted with a snort. "I don''t got all day. What is it?" After a few moments of struggling to get the words out, Mal stilled. "You''re gonna pay." He blinked. "No, seriously¡­ what?" "I said¡­" "No¡­" Greg rolled his eyes, letting out a laughing scoff as he did so. "I heard you but I can''t believe you''re saying that again." He shook his head, one hand rubbing his nose as he stared back at the bottle blond with quickly dimming interest. "Like... Mal, you keep telling me I''m gonna pay but I''m still the one kicking your ass for free." With a roll of his eyes, he turned his back on the junior and with a nod to Sparky, the two friends began walking away, the crowd of students, Empire and not, parted to give way Before the two fully left the semi-circle of students crowding them, Mal shakily got to his feet, shoulders trembling even in their hunched position. "I''ll kill you, shithead! Don''t¡­ don''t you turn your fucking back on me, Veder!" Greg let out a loud sigh and paused in place to glance over his shoulder. He stared at the other teenager with a look of literal boredom for a few seconds, his smile vacant. "Oh my god, I kinda already did, dude. If you''re gonna say something, say it already. This literally isn''t even fun anymore." "I said," Mal bit out with renewed anger as he reared up again, almost snarling his words like some animal, "you''re gonna fucking pay for this, Veder." His shout echoed throughout the alley, the gathered students suddenly quieting as they took in the threat along with the almost insane look that Malcolm fixed Greg with. As if unable to read the sudden change in mood, Greg laughed again at the top of his lungs, almost bending over to match Mal''s position from before until he just¡­ stopped. Without reason or justification, the near hysterical laughter ceased and Greg''s expression blanked. To the further confusion of everyone around him, the natural blond suddenly took a few steps back and glanced upwards, a knowing look crossing his face before he closed his eyes a moment later and let out a low whistle.
Quest Gained Asserting Dominance II Mal Duncan refuses to stand down despite knowing that he can''t actually beat you. His pride as a man and an Empire member is on the line here. Make him regret having both. Objectives - Make him regret talking shit [ ] Rewards: 1000 XP
¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C When Greg opened his eyes again, something felt undeniably different. Whether it was the air or the ground under his feet, Axel Ramon didn''t know. As an odd feeling of nervousness crept down his back, all he knew was that he didn''t like whatever it was. From Mal''s expression, the older boy definitely didn''t. "What? You''re gonna kill me?" Greg Veder glanced at the Empire junior with narrowed eyes and a smile that looked more than a little eager, his gaze so focused on his target that Sparky could have sworn that his friend didn''t even notice the crowd''s sudden burst of whispers at his threat. "You''re gonna put me in the hospital?" Regardless of that, Sparky was sure that Greg had to notice their reaction as the next four words left his mouth and the back alley exploded with noise, the audience finally getting over their surprise at the upset to actually cheer for the first time. "You and what army?" As if taking Greg''s words as cue, several more Empire wannabes and newbies stepped forward to square up around Malcolm, looking ready and determined to make the cocky sophomore eat his words. Greg spared Mal a grin, his body language shifting in a way that left Sparky wondering who he was looking at. The slope of his shoulders, the graceful stance, the curl to his fingers¡­ It all contrasted rather shockingly with the too-wide smile on Greg''s face, an expression that looked more like a kid at a birthday party than anything else. Sparky somehow felt that made it worse. "Bring it." Lag 6-6 Lag 6.6 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Multiple muffled screams of "my nose" didn''t seem to make the situation any more serious to Greg Veder, at least from what Sparky could tell. Judging by his belly laughs and the way he pointed at Mal and his friends groaning in pain on the floor, it managed to accomplish quite literally the opposite. Granted, it was hard not to laugh at all of them on the verge of tears, not that Sparky held himself back much either. I mean, everyone else is laughing. Might as well join in. Truthfully, a large chunk of the crowd were in stitches themselves, the sight of Mal and his friends so quickly beaten by Greg Veder of all people hilarious to see, even more so when the air was still filled with cries of "by thode!" as the Empire kids clutched their bleeding and likely-broken noses. Despite having been knocked around the most, Mal still somehow found it in himself to rise to his feet, shaky as they were. Forcing himself to tear his hands away from where he had cradled his bruised face, the Kaiser Youth spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm to the alley floor, the action eliciting several loud "Eewwws" from the crowd that he willfully ignored. "Listen..." Greg began again, laughter fading away as he spoke, "listen, we''re not so different you and me. Like, our hair colors are very similar, for one." Mal let out another hacking cough, stumbling back just a bit as he tried to stay upright. Even still, he pushed past it, body tense as his meaty hands clenched back again into tight fists. "Ew. Point is, Malcom, we live in a world of similar things. Lots of stuff is the same as other stuff." Greg''s lips turned down in a slight grimace, head tilted to the side. "I forget where I was going with this but the takeaway is that your parents don''t love each other or you." Malcolm bristled, uttering a mountain of swears under his breath and, without a doubt, in his own head. "I swear," he spat the words out, almost hissing them even. "Veder¡­ I fuckin''..." "You fucking what?" Greg asked with a smile, Sparky''s frown reappearing again as he watched his friend take a step forward, hands out in front of himself as if daring the junior to try something. Okay, fight''s over. Sparky thought to himself, about to yell out to Greg to quit it. Too much of a good thing or whatever. "I h-h¡­ Fuck you." Mal managed a bloody triumphant smile through the pain as he sneered back at Greg. "You and your fucking buttfag can go suck each other off." ...on the other hand, Sparky folded his arms, leaning back up against the alley wall as his eyes returned to their apathetic, half-lidded state. A couple more hits might teach him to shut the fuck up, I guess. "Now, that''s just mean," Greg outright laughed, clearly enjoying how Mal seemed to flinch every time he did so, hits to his pride almost as damaging as those to his body. "You don''t mean that. Like, I actually have a girl though." Mal grit his teeth and rose to his feet fully, fists clenched tight as he shouted out, "Fuck you and her! I hope that g-ginger bitch dies in the hospital!" Greg Veder froze in place. He wasn''t the only one. Amber eyes widened as realisation crept into his thoughts slowly. A second or two later, it hit him all at once in a sudden wave of awareness. Sparky took a step forward. "... Greg." Both Sparky and Mal paled as they witnessed the playful and slightly vacant smile disappear from Greg''s expression. "What did you just say?" Heart pounding in his chest, Sparky made to get in front of the blond, but he wasn''t anywhere fast enough. By the time he had taken just one more, his friend was already right in front of his opponent, staring the taller boy in the face. The faint hostility on Greg''s face ratcheted up without him even twitching as he leaned closer, eyes like ice. "I said, What did you just say?" Mal opened his mouth again, expression defiant if unwary, but he didn''t get a chance to answer back. Five fingers wrapped themselves deftly around the junior''s throat almost faster than anyone could see, keeping him from letting out a breath, let alone a sentence. "Greg!" The pressure around the bully''s neck grew tighter despite the fingers around it not so much as twitching an inch, the bully''s back pressed up against the chain link fence dividing the alley. Heavy, meaty hands beat at Greg Veder''s face and body, yet he barely even blinked. His eyes remained focused, intently so on Mal''s increasingly panicked expression, a growing fear visible in his eyes. "Brah, stop it." Sparky dropped his hand on Greg''s outstretched arm and locked eyes with his friend. It took him all he had not to flinch as that anger was directed his way, grim seriousness more than unsettling on a face that just wasn''t built for it. After a moment, though, the blond''s expression quickly cooled as he met Sparky''s eyes. "You don''t gotta do this," he added, as he tightened his grip on Greg''s arm in a reassuring squeeze. It didn''t take long for Greg to nod, expression lightening as the tension faded from his face. Sparky felt his own mood rise slightly but not by much. Just a slight flicker of his eyes to the side let him know that someone''s hand was still tight around someone else''s neck, the second someone beginning to go blue in the face as he thrashed helplessly against Greg''s grip. As if fighting against himself, the sophomore''s hand trembled for a few seconds before he finally extricated his fingers from Mal''s thick neck, the bully falling to the ground in a gasping heap of sweaty, bruised limbs. Letting go of a breath he hadn''t been aware he was holding, Sparky spoke up again, "He''s not worth it, okay? Trust me on this. You''re better than him. You and me. Ain''t that right, brah?" The entire alleyway was almost completely silent, apart from the hushed and quiet mutters of the crowd of high-schoolers that showed up expecting a murder and the fading groans of Malcolm''s crew. With that, it was all too easy for Sparky to catch his friend''s whispered reply. "...Yeah." "Can''t hear ya." He threw an arm around Greg''s shoulder and turned both of them around as he forced a smile onto his face. Before he spoke again, he began stepping towards the alley exit as naturally as he could, Greg following along. "What was that?" Greg smiled back, shaking his head. "I said, yeah. You heard me." "There we go," Sparky continued smiling, the expression starting to waver back to something more his usual expression, the teenager feeling more relaxed with every he took away from what was almost an attempted murder. he punctuated the last sentence with a lazy gesture to Mal and his friends on the ground. As the gathered mob of students parted to make way for both of them, Sparky let out another breath. "I thought I went deaf for a sec." "Holy shit." "I know." "Did you see Veder''s guns? Fucker''s shredded like cheese." "Right, like bro, where can I get those fucking ''roids?" "Yeah, Mal got fucked all the way up." "Like, is he gonna be okay?" "No idea, but did you know Veder was a fucking monster?" "Fuckin'' hell, did he even get hit once?" "I heard he was on ''roids." "I heard he joined the Empire." "I heard Veder was gonna die." "Me too. I bet on Mal." "Fuck me, I''m out twenty bucks." "Why''s he fighting Mal anyway?" "Dude, I don''t know. I showed up to see a murder, not a massacre." "You think you can find what he''s juicing with for cheap?" "Fuck, we gotta pay Veder lunch money now?" "Something happened to Barnes? Why''s she in the hospital?" Holy shit. Sparky felt his eye twitch at the comments growing in volume around them as he tried to walk Greg out of the alley as quickly as possible. Could you retards shut the fuck up? They didn''t understand the seriousness of what he was dealing with, Sparky very well knew that, but they just fucking saw the same thing he did. Pissing off the guy who did that just wasn''t smart, in any fucking sense of the word. "Veder!" Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. The olive-skinned boy closed his eyes and sighed, head hanging down the instant he heard the angry, guttural scream. "Vederrrrrr!" A half-second later, he forced himself to bite back an audible curse as Greg stood up straighter at the voice calling his name a second time, unconsciously shrugging off Sparky''s arm from his shoulder. His face hardened again, mouth once again a single flat line, as he turned around in the opposite direction. Sparky opened his eyes to sigh again and turned around, entirely aware of what he would see. And to his complete lack of surprise, he was right. Sparky, and everyone else within the confines of the alley, stared right at a beaten, bloody and bruised Malcolm Duncan. The junior was struggling to stay upright from the looks of him, breaths leaving him in hard, heavy gulps. His neck was already darkening from where Greg''s fingers had tried to deprive him of air and the Empire member seemed to cradle his right arm on reflex, probably having hurt it somehow - maybe from falling on it wrong, Sparky mused. Smeared and half-dried blood marred the seventeen year-old''s face, that along with the dampness of sweat did it''s job in making him look even more of a deranged mess. Pulling himself up to full height, Mal shouted Greg''s name one more time, clearly too angry to care about the fact that he was in no shape to fight. And yet, he charged forward anyway. Amber eyes flicked to his side to take in how his friend simply waited in place as Mal rushed forward. Greg seemed utterly unbothered by it, body language seemingly loose and unprepared, but Sparky knew better than to believe what his eyes told him. It''s not like he needs to be ready. He wasn''t sure exactly how strong the blond was right now, but judging from what he''d seen - what the entire internet had seen - Sparky was sure that letting him use that strength in anger was a bad idea. "I''ll kill you!" Mal screamed out another pointless threat as he finally neared the smaller boy, swinging his fist like a hammer. Greg Veder ducked the first blow without a word, ducking to the right as Mal was sent scrambling to an unsteady stop from his own reckless momentum. The rampaging steroid user turned around, unhinged rage in his eyes, and made to rush forward again. "Fucking die alr-" Hard knuckles met a harder jaw. "FUCK! God fucking damnit! Shit!" Axel Ramon let the curses fly as he stepped forward and shook his aching hand, regretting that last decision even as Mal lay dazed on the ground in front of him. "Why the fu- whydididothat? Fuckmechristalmighty." "Wow. Nice job. I had that, though." Sparky slowly turned his head around to face the speaker, one hand cradling the other as his eyes watered from the pain, and did his best to flip his friend the bird. "What you had would have landed you in juvie. You''re welcome." Greg''s lip twitched and he began to snicker, his attempt to hold back a laugh failing almost immediately. "Thank you, bro. I''ll buy you some lunch or whatever. My treat." He slapped his palm on his friend''s back, eliciting a yelp of pain and a dirty look, but the blond just laughed even harder. "And some ice for that hand too." Asshole. He narrowed his eyes at his friend as Greg broke into another bout of laughter at that last comment. Fucking idiot. I half-broke my knuckles for this dumbass. Utterly tired of today already, Sparky shook his head, only to let out a slight hiss at the new source of pain that was his entire back. Gritting his teeth, he glanced down at Mal''s face and stared him in the eye, the other boy clearly conscious but too beaten to move. "Know your fucking place, dipshit," He spat down next to his face, the bully not even flinching as the wad of spit barely missed his cheek. "That was me being nice." "Ooh, I got chills from that. Scary Sparky." The olive-skinned teenager rolled his eyes at that remark from Greg, simply shooting him a dirty look. "You''re an idiot." Greg shrugged. "High-five?" Sparky shot him another glare, raising the single hand he was cradling. "Oh, shit, yeah, let''s get you some ice on that." He threw a hand around Sparky''s shoulders and began rambling in his own special way as he guided him towards the alley exit. "Ice first. Food stop later. I''m feeling¡­ chinese?" With that, the duo casually made their way out of the alley with their business complete, leaving Malcolm Duncan to stare at their backs as they left, his face blank and expressionless. "Holy shit, that just happened." "I knoooooow." "Who knew Veder was a psycho?" "I knoooow." "What do we do with these guys? Are they knocked out or what?" "... I don''t know." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ?
Greg Lucas Veder
Job: Student
Age: 15 Title: Ninja - Low Class
Level 33 Experience 26000/60000
Health 3320/3320
Mana 1240 Will 1245
STR 220 INT 90
SPD 137 (142) WIS 22 (-70%)
VIT 201 CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 0 Perk Points 10
Cash: $2,550
TRAITS
Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. +50% bonus to INT gains -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains. Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. -70% to total WIS -90% to total CHA. Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. + 9 CHA Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Greater Human The true power of human beings is that we can change ourselves on our own. Pushing yourself past the limits of what could ever be considered human, you have entered into a realm that even the most obtuse would notice as distinctly in-human. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 200 pts)
PERKS
Baby Steps (1/3) With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. Capegoat (5/5) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. Danger Sense (6/10) My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Darkvision It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Developed Mind (7/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Dragon King''s Aura (1/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Flowing Mana The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base mana recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 MP/s) Growing Will (6/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Greater Iron Body "It''s a good thing I''m so buff, or that fall would''ve killed me. " What is your body made of, exactly? It can''t be anything human. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, applying after all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest +10% of blunt damage inflicted totaling less than 5% of innate health is negated. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The clarity of your vision scales with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (10/10) Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/s)
TITLES
Dragonbane Knight To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Low-Class Ninja Hide in shadows and darkness. You''re a ninja! A NINJA! Cool... Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 35% and + 5 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
SKILLS
Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 19 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Analyze The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. Cost: 1 MP Dash Straight Lv 20 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter Electrokinesis (Minor) Lv 1 A human taser. Impressive? You''ve got the power of lightning at your finger-tips. Sadly, that''s pretty much as far as it goes. Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Mana Barrier Lv 6 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana Magnetism (Minor) Lvl 1 Magnets? How do they work? You possess all the power of an office magnet toy. Cost: 5 mp per second of sustained use Mana Bolt Lv 3 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 7 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (0.5 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lv 6 Great Balls of Fire! You''re a walking firestorm, the ability to launch enough flame at once to set an entire building ablaze from hundreds of feet away. Cost: 250 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Raging Combo Lv 18 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 6 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique. (230%) Cost: 5 Will/s
  • Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR Cost: 50 Will, 50 HP
  • Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten.
Surface Adhesion Lv 20 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object.
  • Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 23 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (11.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
ABILITIES
Acrobatics Lv 46 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv MAX Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 20 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (40%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (10%) Breath-Holding Lv 25 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (12.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 10 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 18 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (36%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 8 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (40%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (16%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 17 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (17%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 15 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 10 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. (10%) Meditation Lvl 30 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (300%) Parry Lv 17 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (34%) Reflexes II Lvl 1 That''s two bullets. Child''s play. When you can avoid six bullets, then you will have accomplished something. Decreases innate reaction time by .1% per level. (95%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 70 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (52.5%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat II Lv 4 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Reduces heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks up to 200% of health. (4%) + Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (75%)
  • Salamander''s Skin I burn... well, not really? Complete immunity to heat damage with a magnitude up to half of 1% of Innate VIT.
Resistance: Piercing Lv 40 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (30%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 25 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (50%) Stamina Lvl 25 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (125 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 40 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (80%) Taunt Lv 19 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (38%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Hiro in Training Cutscene: Hiro in Training ¡°Knowing what we do about parahumans, it is in the benefit of our nation¡¯s national security, financial stability, and simply peace, that we limit the reach of parahuman power to what is innate to them... and keep the financial, political and social influence in the hands of normal individuals. Allowing parahumans to leverage their abilities to make millions or billions of dollars with little comparative effort allows them to go even further. We cannot let these rogues run roughshod over our industries. What¡¯s to stop them from building armies of mercenaries, infiltrating the political sphere, indoctrinating our children through the media and who knows what else? We can already see the situation on our streets. Local gangs all over the country are actively looking for capes to lead them, to give them legitimacy and importance. Mark my words, if this bill fails to pass, that will only be the beginning.¡± ¡ª Anton Dick, Co-Sponsor of the NEPEA-5 Bill and Disgraced Senator ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Hiro Yasuda gulped nervously as his hands tapped at his sides, the fifth time this night he had swallowed down a mouthful of nothing but spit and fear. He held back a shudder, the chill of the night air affecting him just as much as his nerves. After a few seconds of suffering in silence, the teen gave in and hunched in on himself, hands rising his hands from his pockets to rub them together, somewhat relaxed by the fact that he could see a few other people doing the same thing. It was oddly cold for May the last week or so in the city, and no one was really sure why. Some said that the smart money was on the cause being one of Bakuda¡¯s bombs exploding unnoticed or something but Hiro doubted that much. ¡°You.¡± The Japanese teenager rose up again and stood stock still as he heard the voice again, back and arms straight in his best imitation of a soldier, among a large crowd of others around his age. Like before, several did the same, either of their own volition or mimicking his actions. At his side, and a few steps behind, stood his bigger friend Eugene in his usual purple-trimmed tracksuit, the beefier Korean boy looking much more at ease and far less cold. Hiro shuddered again, hands entering his pockets, as he regretted wearing only a T-Shirt to this. Should have known better. But then again, it really wasn¡¯t his fault. After all, he had assumed this meeting would have been held in one of the old ABB¡¯s furnished and heated safehouses and not¡­ Well, not this. No matter what the situation, some old abandoned warehouse by the docks was not where the ABB had held meetings before, he knew that much. From what he heard of Lung¡¯s pride and some of the older men running what had been the ABB for the short time he had been connected to it, that sort of thing ¡ª this sort of place ¡ª would be considered beneath them, more suited for people like the Merchants. Then again, Hiro was never invited to those meetings and he had only been a gofer for the gang for barely half a year so it wasn¡¯t at all like he actually knew that much of anything. Just earlier today, messages had gone out throughout what remained of the ABB¡¯s information network, informing everyone that the new boss was holding a meeting, they being the younger wannabe members of what had once been the ABB. Normally this wouldn¡¯t be important or relevant, as they were never invited to these things, being jun-ko-sein, trainees at best, gofers at worst. What made this so blatantly different was that they had been the ones specifically requested, the eighteen-and-under junkosei, the ones who had no real boss and were too green to even be considered real members. Hiro had simply been on his way home after another not-so-boring day at Winslow, the only real highlight to his day getting to witness some Empire assholes getting their asses kicked by some other blond white kid who had gotten sick of their shit. That had been a sight to witness, especially considering the E88 kids had been walking around Winslow like they owned the place ever since school had started back up. Still, his good mood had wavered somewhat after getting the message that the boss wanted them to come in for a meeting. For what, Hiro didn¡¯t know yet, but it had to be important. Still, though, Hiro couldn¡¯t help but feel like it was very odd that the meeting was so short-notice and held in a place like this - I''m not even sure half the under-18s made it here - but even then, he wasn¡¯t going to be the one to raise his voice and question the new boss. Speaking of the new boss¡­ The reason Hiro stood there ¡ª along with everybody else ¡ª strolled past him, eyes glowing a bright blue behind his red face mask, giving him a ghoulish appearance that somehow managed to outdo the skull face mask the cape used to wear. It certainly didn¡¯t help that his voice seemed to echo from behind his mask, seemingly coming from everywhere around you at once and making it impossible for him to go unheard. ¡°You.¡± A red-gloved finger darted out and, without hesitation, another teenager stepped out from the crowd. Another girl this time, Hiro noted to himself as he watched her take a few more steps toward the line-up of five boys and two other girls standing several meters in front of the crowd. Pausing for a moment, she glanced back over her shoulder at the crowd behind her, a tight smirk on her face as she blew a kiss back and winked, several hands in the crowd that Hiro couldn¡¯t quite see cheering her on. Sashaying forward, the newly chosen took her place in line and placed a hand on her hip as if striking a pose. From where he stood, Hiro let out a breathy sigh, eyes half-lidded as he took her in from head to toe, focusing on her face more than anything else. She was pretty, there was no doubt about that, beautiful even with her hair tied back in a tight bun and two long bangs framing her face and jawline like fine art. She also knew how to dress herself to look her absolute best, even her casual outfit looking styled to perfection. From the choker around her neck to the black-and-red varsity jacket that hung just so from her delicate shoulders ¡ª probably from whatever huge sports guy she was dating ¡ª and the almost-too-short red skirt she wore made it hard to look her in the face. After a few seconds of staring, Hiro came to his senses and let out another sigh, this one more disappointed than dreamy. What are you doing, Hiro?, he chastised himself. You¡¯re not here to look at girls. Besides, she¡¯s out of your league and she knows it, too. Truthfully from the look in her amber eyes and her knowing, superior smile, she probably knew she was out of most people¡¯s league. Not like she¡¯s even wrong. She¡¯s probably used to dating big, strong, handsome guys lik- ¡°You!¡± Hiro jerked himself out of his thoughts as the voice rang out, gloved hand pointing out again. This time, in his direction. What? He blinked. The teenager felt his heart rise in his chest, mouth already open and one hand going to his chest to confirm what he could barely believe. His mouth had barely formed the single syllable when a familiar figure walked past him and towards the line of teenagers, purple-lined tracksuit and large frame making him hard to miss. All at once, Hiro felt his mood fall and his nerves dissipate. Yeah, of course. He nodded, entirely unsurprised as he watched Gene join the line as the ninth chosen, the larger boy waving back at him with an easy grin. Hiro didn¡¯t waste a moment to raise his hand and wave back, a slight smile on his face as he tried to ignore his own disappointment. I¡¯d have picked Eugene too. The guy¡¯s a tank. The boss walked past again, red mask turning as he surveyed the waiting crowd of expectant and eager teenagers. Already nine spots, Hiro thought to himself. How many is he going to pick? Hell, why is he even pick- ¡°You!¡± The mask turned towards Hiro again, the small teenager raising an eyebrow as he glanced around to see who else the cape could be pointing at. A few moments and a few confused looks passed between him and several others before the boy glanced back at the red-masked parahuman still pointing at him. Him. ¡°What the fuuuuu-¡± A hard shove from behind sent him moving towards the other line, but Hiro found himself coming to a harsh stop almost immediately after, meeting the eyes of the boss. His nerves at an all-time high as hundreds of eyes stared at him, it took more effort than he imagined possible for him to raise a shaky hand to his chest and ask the only question on his mind. ¡°M-me?¡± If Hiro didn¡¯t know better, he could have sworn the boss was actually smiling at him as he stared back. A heavy, gloved hand dropped down on his shoulder, eliciting a slight grunt from him even as he maintained eye contact. ¡°Yeah, you. Now get over there.¡± Hiro felt his cheeks heat up from several emotions, one in particular, but obeyed as quickly as he could manage. With his head down, the teenager scampered towards the spot next to Eugene, the guy already snickering at his red face before he even managed to get in line, taking the tenth place. Before Hiro could elbow him to stop laughing, the boss clapped his hands together, the sound echoing loudly throughout the empty, almost completely silent warehouse. ¡°Everyone here knows what the ABB was.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. There were murmurs of agreement from the gathered crowd of teens, most of them familiar with the gang¡¯s activities. ¡°You all know what the ABB was, what it did, who it hurt.¡± The boss continued again as he stood perfectly between both the crowd of teenagers and his chosen ten, voice booming and bouncing throughout the warehouse in a way that just wasn¡¯t natural. Hiro gulped. He knew better than most, really. He knew of the girls who were smuggled into Brockton Bay, the ones who chose to come here to work at the ¡°party places¡±, the ones who fought back, the ones who stopped working suddenly, the ones he was told to stop asking questions about¡­ The bespectacled boy spared a glance at Eugene, relaxed by the fact that he didn¡¯t know much about all that due to his own lack of curiosity. At times, it could be annoying, but Hiro would take it as the blessing it was. "You¡¯re all here because you were part of the ABB. Whether you were forced into it or if you chose this life yourselves, I don¡¯t care. You had your own reason for not leaving when I¡­,¡± Hardkour paused to Hiro¡¯s confusion, chuckling for some reason, ¡°when my friend and I decided to finish things with Lung, Bakuda and Oni Lee.¡± The short teenager nodded at that last name despite himself, having watched that last fight at least a dozen times since the beginning of the month, having managed to find a rip to download on his shitty laptop. Even though it hadn¡¯t been captured in perfect Tinker Quality super-HD like the two Lung fights, that cape battle was still his favorite. No one had ever seen Oni Lee move like that or produce that many clones, and they certainly hadn¡¯t expected some new young cape out of nowhere to fight him the way he did. Grainy and badly captured, sure, but it was still insanely awesome in an entirely different way than the White Knight fights. ¡°Whether it was for money, for power, for protection, I don''t care. You chose to stay.¡± Hiro knew that last one rang true to him, and he doubted he was wrong in assuming that was what most of the people here wanted more than anything else. Though, the boss might have had it a bit backwards. More than money, more than power, more than respect. They wanted to protect what they saw as theirs; their neighborhoods, their homes, their family. Just like him. ¡°That makes you mine. My responsibility." Gloved hands snapped to his back and Hardkour continued walking back up the line, only coming to a stop as he met the gaze of the first teenager he chose. The boy stared back at him with a relaxed smirk, a cool-looking half-Chinese guy with green stripes in his hair. ¡°Mine to lead. Mine to protect.¡± Nodding as if confirming something he already knew, the boss walked down to the next person in line, a short Japanese kid in an Edison Academy boy¡¯s uniform and slicked-back hair. On top of that, he seemed to have been cursed with what looked like a terminal inability to show emotion. "The ABB no longer exists. You know this already.¡± Another nod and Hardkour stepped forward to face number three, the eye-slits of his mask lighting up with bright blue light as he tilted his head back to make eye contact with the freakishly tall stern-faced Filipino. ¡°Your bosses told you, cause I made sure to remind them to pass it down.¡± Number four winked up at him, a cute Japanese girl wearing a wig and glasses ¡ª both a shocking neon pink ¡ª that starkly contrasted with the red tartan of her Immaculata skirt. As Hardkour continued to stare at her, she stuck the tip of her tongue out and winked at him in a display that was oddly cute. ¡°No more theft. No more slavery.¡± Fifth in line avoided the boss¡¯s gaze, lowering her head and putting the large red stripe in her hair on display. Interestingly enough, she wore a long black-and-red striped scarf as if to copy the boss¡¯s solid red one. ¡°No more rampaging gangs.¡± The sixth chosen, a baby-faced Vietnamese kid, palmed his fist as the boss neared him, dropping into a light bow as the cape¡¯s gaze landed on him. ¡°You are protectors of your neighborhood. That''s all you need to be.¡± Number seven, a chubby Japanese kid with thick glasses and hair that he had clearly spent time dying grey tied back in a ponytail, flashed the boss a grin and a peace sign. "You protect your people, I protect you and make it worth your while." The hot girl with the varsity jacket only smirked, eyes sparkling at the last words from the masked cape. ¡°Are we clear?¡± Hardkour stood between both Eugene and Hiro, glowing eyes flickering between the both of them. Hiro ignored the sweat on his brow as he nodded back at his boss, trying his best not to think of how it felt like his soul was being laid bare the longer the cape looked at him. "Yeah¡­" Eugene replied, seemingly not even bothered. "I said, are we CLEAR?" A shout like a roar swept out as Hardkour whipped around to face the silent crowd, visible wind rippling over Hiro and the rest of the gathered ten. "Yes, boss!" The warehouse was filled with the din of dozens of teenagers shouting back in unison, each one of them motivated by the sudden fear of an angry cape. ¡°Good.¡± Once again, Hiro was struck with the sudden odd idea that the boss had to be smiling at them behind that red face mask, but he had no idea why. ¡°These ten¡­¡± the boss pointed at each one of them in turn, gaze still facing the larger crowd, ¡°are my new bosses.¡± Hiro felt his heart freeze in his chest. What. ¡°Your new big brothers and sisters. Each of them will choose two little brothers or sisters. The rest of you will be selected as part of their squads. You follow their lead. They follow mine.¡± The teenager glanced around himself, all the other people in line with him looking much more eager and excited at these words. His gaze turned back to the eagerly-listening crowd of former wannabes, fresh faces, happy smiles and unscarred bodies staring back at him. All of us? Membership? Just like that? Him being chosen was weird enough, but Hiro was left unsure of what to think about an entire warehouse of teenagers promoted so quickly. ¡°They report to me and they keep you in line. You cross them. You cross me. Everyone who didn''t make it to the meeting - make sure they get this message.Simple enough?¡± An army nodded their heads. "The Azn Bad Boys are no more,¡± the boss continued as he began walking back to the middle again, red scarf trailing behind him like a cape. ¡°Sad thing is, that means you guys don¡¯t have a name at all. Not yet, at least. And no, the ¡®Reds¡¯, ¡®Blues¡¯ and ¡®Whites¡¯ aren¡¯t names. Ridiculous, really.¡± Hiro blinked in confusion, the act mimicked by many others as the tension that had just gripped the room began to fade as the boss continued speaking aloud. ¡°Honestly, if I really felt like it, I''d name you the Azn Gud Boys¡­¡± Hiro choked on an unintended laugh, the sound barely held back by force of will, ¡°but that sounds TERRIBLE, doesn¡¯t it? Like, just the absolute worst name." It started with him, he couldn¡¯t help it. A giggle escaped his tightly clenched lips despite him trying his very best. With him laughing, Eugene chuckled along, his voice much louder as he wasn¡¯t trying to hold back at all. Just like that, the floodgates opened and almost everyone in the warehouse laughed along with the boss¡¯s joke, immature youth doing what they do best. "Oh¡­ so you think that''s funny?" And just like that, the crowd stilled, laughter vanishing faster than water down a drain. "Cause I really didn''t think the joke was that funny.¡± Hardkour shrugged his shoulders and let out a chuckle of his own. ¡°I appreciate the laughs, guys." Hiro allowed himself a smile as the tension faded again. He wasn''t sure why he of all people was chosen to lead, but the boss had to have seen something in him. It had to be something important enough to single him out, too.
Justin Li AGB Big Brother HP: 250/250 A smooth wannabe playboy, Justin joined the ABB to rebel against his dorky white dad. Tough enough to hold his own in a street fight. Figures he might as well ride it out and see how the new boss will do things. Sees Hardkour as the biggest bad-ass in the city next to White Knight. Shinichi Nobunaga AGB Big Brother HP: 210/210 A quiet boy, Shinichi had served as a small-time gofer for the former ABB under constant threat of violence. When Bakuda took over, he couldn¡¯t stand by as people were strapped with bombs and began removing as many he could find from people as discreetly as he could. Decided to join the ABB purposefully after hearing about Hardkour¡¯s leadership. Chad Cheng Lv 14 AGB Big Brother HP: 350/350 Strong and silent, Chad isn¡¯t someone to be messed with. He joined the ABB after three Empire members tried to attack his mother. Has beaten three grown men to a pulp at the age of 16. Speaks four languages fluently and plays Spanish guitar. Yumi Jakuzure Lv 9 AGB Big Sister HP: 185/185 An acrobat and a member of the Immaculata marching band, Yumi has a habit of hanging out with boys on the wrong side of the tracks. Funny enough, that same side of the tracks has made her real familiar with how to shoot a gun. Hands-on type of familiar. Amy Kim Lv 8 AGB Big Sister HP: 170/170 Amy Kim comes from a nice conservative middle-class Korean-Chinese family. Her father does something dull at an office building Downtown. Amy met a nice white boy who ended up cheating on her for a not-so-nice white girl. Amy decided to rebel and joined the ABB to show she could be a bad girl, bringing along her father¡¯s antique samurai sword - which is odd, because he¡¯s Korean, not Japanese. Wants to learn from Hardkour on how to better use it. Lance Quan Lv 10 AGB Big Brother HP: 250/250 A Vietnamese orphan, Lance threw his hat in with the ABB to actually make something of himself. Well-practiced in Muay Thai and possesses a treasured pair of brass knuckles. Yoshi Noboyuki Lv 9 AGB Big Brother HP: 285/285 Proud Chuuni and gamer, Yoshi has been bullied since before middle school and has sent most bullies packing with his bulk and quick willingness to throw a punch. He keeps strong and bulky by lifting hard and eating a lot. Joined the ABB to learn how to be a ninja and stayed to get Hardkour¡¯s autograph. Aoi Huoyan Lv 8 AGB Big Sister HP: 180/180 The ambitious Aoi knows what it means to be a boss. Leading her own crew of girls from Immaculata¡¯s halls into the ranks of the ABB, she wants respect and power that she knows she¡¯ll never get from a normal life. Thinks Hardkour is hot. Eugene Hwang Lv 10 AGB Big Brother HP: 300/300 A wannabe weightlifter. Regular boxer. Acquaintance of Hiro Asada. Eugene doesn¡¯t have much going on upstairs but that¡¯s more a matter of choice than ability. Prefers to live in the now. Hiro Yasuda Lv 5 AGB Big Brother HP: 170/170 Short. Near-sighted. Lactose intolerant. Gamer. Acquaintance of Eugene Hwang. Hiro Asada is many things but strong is not one of them. Eager to please and eager to prove himself, Hiro joined the ABB of his own volition to learn how to be tougher. Thinks Hardkour is super-cool, even more so than White Knight.
Whatever it was, Hiro knew he was going to have to live up to it. Announcement Hey, guys. Finally moved in to my new place. Just recently got my room arranged and PC set up for writing again. Anyway, gonna be posting two chapters on Patreon this Friday. One on here this upcoming Monday. And then on Friday on Patreon again. In other announcements, Just a slight announcement. After giving some thought to it, I''ve decided to start occasionally working on some of my original pieces that I''ve left on the backburner for a long while. Actual novels and not fanfics. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I''ll probably be posting these on Royal Road depending on how you like it. The two works I''ve been letting sit without attention are called Call of the Void and Streets of Sorcery.
  • Call of the Void: A Cyberpunk Xianxia Cultivation novel
I shouldn''t be here. I really shouldn''t be here. Nothing about me being here makes ANY SORT OF SENSE. I just wanted to play a game, to feel like I mattered, like I was somebody. Whatever this is, it doesn''t feel like that. My name''s Kenneth Trank and last time I checked, I had five years to live. The way things are going, I don''t think I''ll last five days.
  • Streets of Sorcery: A Sci-Fi Urban Fantasy novel
Markus Kaine was no one of importance, really. An introductory magic teacher at a barely-surviving strip mall, he prided himself on keeping his head down and making sure the wealthy teenagers he gave his first taste of magic to didn''t have a reason to complain to their parents about him and get his pay docked. Two hours ago, his biggest fears were losing his job, getting further into debt, and avoiding his old friends and family. Now, though? He was pretty sure the mage hunters after his head had taken all three spots. Lag 6.7 Lag 6.7 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Every concentration of power creates its own opposition, whether that power is military, political, monetary, or social. Opposition groups may or may not be violent, largely depending upon their aims and whether or not they believe the political environment favors them. More than any hero or PRT resistance, the greatest opposition villain groups face is more often than not from other villains. Allowing them to whittle each other away is not necessarily an approved tactic but is a preferred one, especially when outnumbered and outgunned. ¡ªParahuman Response Team, Threat Assessment 10.4, Summary ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 11, 2011 2:42 AM Pap. Pap. It was turning out to be something of a slow night, at least by Greg''s standards. Pap. Pap. No random gunfights. No unexpected arson. No undiscovered bomb reaching the end of it''s arbitrarily-and-unnecessarily-long timer. Pap. Pap. Apart from some random thug literally seconds away from committing an execution on two parents in front of their young son for some cash, the entire night had actually been downright freaking peaceful. Apart from taking time for that three-second detour and giving a quick salute to the terrified parents and awed kid, he might as well have spent the rest of his patrol time just dicking around. [+300 XP, + Colt 1911, + Newsboy Cap] Pap. Pap. Honestly, he was finding it hard to believe it himself. Not even a hint of the Empire 88 trying to stick their unwashed dicks into his territory, and wasn''t that rare as hell? Or¡­ The blond tilted his head back, sparing a glance at the rapidly spinning ceiling fan above him. Even in the dim light of the office, he found it far too easy to catch sight of dirt and dust buildup on each individual blade. Maybe there actually was and the Game just didn''t think it was that important to let me know? Pap. Pap. The dull thudding in the room came to a stop as his fingers closed themselves tightly around the yellow tennis ball he had been bouncing against the ceiling for the last quarter-hour. Greg Veder''s eyes narrowed to curious slits as he continued staring up at the dusty ceiling fan. Is that what''s going on, Mr. Game? A half-second later, he gave a mental shrug and decided to hedge his bets, following up his thoughts with a questioning, Ms. Game? For a few moments, there was no response and then¡­
Firefly Hill ¡ª Secure Imperial Yard ¡ª Secure Little China ¡ª Secure Okinawa Heights ¡ª Secure Osaka Plaza ¡ª Secure Seoul Square ¡ª Secure Taipei Town ¡ª Secure
No enemy intrusions or attacks of note on your captured territory.
Blue eyes gleamed as the screen flickered into place, the curiosity in his gaze not bothering to fade even as the translucent window blinked away, the blond already having committed the words it displayed to memory. Interesting. Greg''s eyes remained slitted as he filed away that particular tidbit of information in the back of his mind, deciding to address something that stood out as far more important than anything else at the moment. "So, you''re a Ms. Game, huh?" "What?" "Huh?" The blond''s expression turned down into a slight frown, eyes widening as he brought his gaze down from the ceiling to somewhere around his actual eye level from where he sat in the (rather comfortable) office chair that had been provided for him. The awareness that he wasn''t entirely alone in the dim office returned to him and the blond let out a quiet sigh behind his mask as he prepared to deal with the work that came with being a boss. His attention flicked from the Japanese man sitting on the opposite side of his big wooden desk, to the two bulkier figures standing guard on both sides of his door. While those two wore nothing but a matching set of white tank tops, blue jeans, and dull looks, the young man sitting across from the teenage cape wore a far more aware expression ¡ª albeit a rather tired one ¡ª in addition to a well-fitting black suit over a white t-shirt. An unlit cigarette hanging precariously from the edge of his mouth, Seo Asada simply raised an eyebrow at the person who kept his family fed and allowed him to maintain, if not upgrade, his current lifestyle. "You said something, boss?" Adjusting his posture in his chair, Hardkour leaned back even further and dropped both of his booted feet rather heavily on the desk, the noise echoing slightly in the bare-bones penthouse room Seo had his men turn into a private office. Letting out a slight sigh, he fixed his current number two with a focused stare from behind his red face-mask. "Did I?" The gangster''s brow furrowed heavily, a slight tremble passing over his expression. A moment later, his eyes darted up to meet those of his current employer as if seeking a clue for how to proceed. "I¡­" A pair of already gleaming blue eyes brightened, the sight causing Seo to tremble again in a way that the only cape in the room had gotten rather familiar with.
Seo Asada Lvl 14 AGB Senior HP: 310/310 A former Big Brother in charge of some of the many smaller groups within the ABB, Seo was a lieutenant in name only and had none of the real power that the older men still surviving from the old ABB had maintained. While not the most ambitious or the most educated, Seo is undeniably smart, willing to learn and has a great sense of timing. Turning the ABB to your side and disposing of the old lieutenants who managed to avoid arrest was how he pledged his loyalty to you and your plans, well aware that he needs you more than you need him. He is unaware that you don''t have much, if anything, of a plan.
"...Must be confused. My fault, boss," Seo replied carefully, the man clearly taking effort to keep his usual detached tone as he inclined his head in something that was almost-but-not-quite a bow. "No problem, Seo." "Thank you¡­ sir." The current AGB administrator lowered his gaze and Greg followed his eyes to zero in on the pile of several manila folders lying in front of where he sat at the desk. "If you got time, there are some things I gotta let you know." Oh, greaaat. The mask on his face was a blessing, sometimes, and Greg knew that from the bottom of his heart. He knew his face was easy to read, from what both Sparky and his mom had told him often enough, and he couldn''t hide his initial reaction to almost anything if he tried. At least not without something obscuring his expression. Although, he doubted anyone would find it easy to read the odd combination of expressions that his face had formed at Seo''s words even without the mask right now. Something like the gratification of a former gang boss tip-toeing around his words and deferring to him combined with the disgust and simple displeasure that came from having to do actual work related to said gang. "...uh-huh." His face smoothed itself into a tight smile underneath his mask, teeth almost grinding against each other as he tried his best not to groan in annoyance. "Sure, let''s see what you got." Seo nodded and turned to face the two by the door, barking out terse orders that Greg didn''t bother paying any attention to in the slightest. Behind his mask, his expression dulled slightly as the teenager turned in his chair, feet still resting on the desk, to face the TV mounted on the far left wall of the office. It took him about ten seconds to situate himself comfortably in his seat, lean back against the chair properly, and focus his attention properly on the muted television broadcast. In an amazing feat of absolutely no effort, it only took Greg twice that long to become rather irritated with the late-night/early-morning local news broadcast, especially when he wasn''t the topic of discussion. It''s like they haven''t mentioned me at all this week. That by itself was almost as suspicious as the lack of Empire presence on his turf, if he had to be honest. While Hardkour had been a topic of some discussion on PHO, neither of his personas had received any notable attention on the news for almost a week now. Seriously, I beat Lung like... what? Two weeks ago? For the second time even, a voice in the back of his head groused petulantly. I outran Assault & Battery. I''m still fighting the fricking Empire. Hardkour spun in his chair, turning away from the 24-hour local news channel as his mood edged closer and closer to a fit of annoyance. I saved little girls, like a hundred of them. And I''m just old news now? His legs dropped to the floor and he sat forward in his chair, fingers interlocking as he laid both hands on the table. Staring straight ahead, he did his best to ignore the possibly sleep-deprived anchors as they rambled on about local ''events of importance''. Unfortunately, his best wasn''t the best. Hm, who even cares about a stupid frickin'' fundraiser party? Shaking his head as if to dislodge the annoying line of thought from his mind, Hardkour let out a long breath. You would think the fact that I cut a woman''s legs off would get me more attention, but noooo? What does a guy have to do to get some respect around h- "Boss?" The blond let out another tired sigh, the interruption serving as another annoyance, and shifted his gaze towards his head minion. Huh. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of the former gang member standing in front of a whiteboard, the thing barely having any white left on it due to all of the writing that covered the surface of it. Both of the guards had left the room to handle whatever busywork Seo had given out, granting both of them the privacy they would need to talk about things they had no real business knowing about. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. With a relaxed sigh, Greg unclasped his red face mask and placed it on the table to the side of him, leaving him with only a black domino mask hiding his identity. "Yeah, I''m ready, Seo. Let''s hear what you''ve got." The young man standing by the board straightened his collar and loosened his expression, relaxing enough that he seemed to deflate slightly. One hand stretched out to the whiteboard just to the right of him, and his pointer finger specifically directed Greg''s attention to the portion on the far left of the whiteboard, which just so happened to be a rather hastily-drawn ¡ª but still accurate ¡ª depiction of the ABB''s seven major neighborhoods. At the same time, Seo''s gaze aimed downwards as his other hand rose up, allowing the teenager to catch sight of the thick stack of flashcards in the man''s grip. It took much more effort than it should have for him to avoid letting out a groan of frustration at the sight, suddenly well aware of what he was getting into. Oh, great. Exposition. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C O ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C "-ooking at the damage done to part of the territory ''cause of Bakuda, I already had to rework our old routes. Thing is, I can''t be sure that these gaps can''t be abused by any skinhead worth more than a couple brain cells. I know those are kinda rare, but I''m pretty sure the Empire is already working on¡­" The teenager sat behind the desk, his gloved hands clasped tightly in front of his face as he held Seo''s gaze as the man spoke. Nodding slowly every few minutes, he seemed to be the perfect picture of a stoic leader as he listened intently to the words of the man he assigned as administrator. Seemed. The reality was a bit different. Oh. My. God. It''s been thirty goddamn minutes. I get it. Here is map. Map of territory. Need send people to place on map to keep territory safe. Perfect caveman impression completed, Greg gave himself a mental pat on the back for being so succinct. Boom. Done. Not that hard, Seo. Granted, that wasn''t all the man had been speaking about the whole time, the first ten to fifteen minutes taken up with issues of the money-handling side of what had been the ABB needing to be restructured somewhat, considering nearly a third of them had been arrested. Apparently, Big Ken''s evidence had been a bit more far-reaching than Greg had realized, while also at the same time strangely shallow. Either way, Greg had quieted Seo''s worry of potential money issues "It''s these points here," Seo continued as he faced the board and circled certain areas on his map with red marker, unaware that his self-appointed leader was glaring death beams at him, "that are giving me some real headaches, boss. You''ve taken care of a lot of the Empire shitfits around here and it''s looking like they''re trying to wreck buildings around these spots to prevent our boys from scouting them out." Hardkour nodded his head slowly, a few moments of silence following after he responded. "I see." He did see. That much was true. What was left unsaid was that he was also finding it frustratingly hard to listen to his number two rattle on about things that didn''t do much at all to hold his interest. Patrol movements were cool and all, but patrolling was enough of a chore when it was just him running around randomly from neighborhood to neighborhood by way of the rooftop highway. Seriously, I''m the boss and the muscle. Just tell me where to go and I''ll do my thing, he thought with a scoff. Actually, Greg raised an eyebrow as he recalled how the system often informed him of said intrusions before his informant network could even call him. You don''t even need to tell me half the time. Really, with all that in mind, having to hear about ways to better plan to have people that he was pretty much hand-holding do something he barely even needed them to do was just¡­ God, this is torture. Yeah, that. "-ese are the patrol routes I''m workin'' on fixin'' right. Like I talked about, the hoods down the south and leaning into Downtown are the biggest issu-" "Seo." The newly-appointed administrator froze mid-sentence as Hardkour''s voice reverberated throughout the room, deep and echoing in a way that fell just short of physical. His free hand twitched at his side for a gun that wasn''t there, visibly shaken by the sudden feeling that passed over him as he openly shuddered.
Intimidation 17¡ú18
The young cape watched silently as Seo swallowed for a second, face as controlled as he could manage as he replied with an almost-casual, "Yeah, boss?" Confident that he had grabbed the man''s attention, Greg relaxed his hands and laid them flat on the desk in front of him, while at the same time letting go of his Aerokinesis and letting it dissipate from around him. After a few seconds of tense silence, the blond raised one hand to tap the side of his mouth. "Let''s skip past this. We''ll come back to it, okay?" Before Seo could even say anything, his mouth half-open in an attempt to reply, Greg cut in again, impatience and boredom driving him. "In fact, how about this?" The blond jabbed his index finger in the gangster''s direction. "I made you my number two for a reason. You decide whatever you feel is best for patrol. I''ll look over your notes later. That sound good to you?" "I..." Said number-two blinked as if unsure as to how to proceed, before simply nodding to himself. "If you say so, I g-" "You guessed right. Good that we''re on the same page," Greg cut in again, a smile spreading beneath the domino mask. "Let''s just get to other business. What else do you have for me?" Seo''s mouth formed a thin line for a moment before opening as he seemed ready to say something. Halfway through a single word, the man stopped and turned back to face the whiteboard, quickly turning the entire board to show the other side. As Seo stepped away from the flipped board, the first thing that Greg noticed was that this side of the whiteboard was far less cluttered than the other. The second thing he noticed was the marker-drawn map and it''s accompanying small essay of notes had been replaced by two images taped to the board, each paper with two words in large print below both of them. "Huh." Greg blinked in slight confusion. His gaze flicked over to the left side of the board where the image of a three-headed dragon in the shape of a shuriken hung. That''s the Sky Triad, based out of Boston. An instant later, his eyes darted to the right where a similar tribal image of a dragon was, this one half bodied and with two vague lines that implied wings. Flying Dragons, these guys are from New York. "These guys..." "Yeah, boss." Seo''s expression eased slightly, becoming less grim, but his frown didn''t quite disappear as he continued. "I''m thinkin'' you know ''em." Know them? "Well¡­" Greg tilted his head to the side, expression tilting downwards to match Seo''s slight frown as he tried to think back. I can''t really say that, honestly. Know of them, I guess. Even then, it''d be kinda hard not to hear about them. They''re like right next door. "They''re the Sky Triad and the Flying Dragons, one from Boston and the other from New York." Seo nodded silently, allowing him to continue. Adjusting his posture in the chair, the teenager tilted his head to the other side, staring out through the large windows that took up almost an entire wall of the office. The city lights kept the darkness of the night from being overwhelming, but Greg liked to imagine that with them gone, he might be able to catch sight of New York from where he sat. "They kinda sprung up a few years after Lung moved the ABB to the Bay," he continued after a few seconds of silent thought, gaze turning back to Seo. "Except for their cape bosses, most of them are old ABB that left when Lung took over the original gang way back when. They''re pretty much followers. Even down to their branding," Greg added on, the corner of his mouth curling up in a private smirk as he glanced back at their logos. "Especially the Flying Dragons. Their boss even calls himself Ryu," the blond snorted at that, unable to help himself. "Talk about a copycat." Greg''s attitude towards both gangs wasn''t an uncommon one, even to those living in the cities where they made their homes. Both organizations were blatant chameleons, absorbing old members of the gang Lung used to be a part of, even cribbing off the names of old Asian gangs that fell apart in the cities they made their homes in. While each gang had at least twice the number of capes as the ABB ¡ª even counting Bakuda ¡ª neither of them had the power or skill to stand in the same league as Lung or Oni Lee. In fact, every time Lung had poked his head out of the cave that was Brockton Bay, both gangs had set world records with how quickly they had gone to ground, staying quiet until the big bad dragon was deeeeep within his lair again. Ryu, especially, Greg thought with an unbidden smirk. Considering he was the only one who had ever tried to fight Lung. While most people had never seen how it went down, witness testimony had described it as going poorly for the guy whose power was not turning into a kaiju. Like, dude, come on. Greg snorted again, barely holding back actual laughter as he recalled how badly PHO had roasted the guy back then. It was the highlight of his twelfth birthday, after all. Your power was pyrokinesis and Lung is literally fireproof. Literally a joke. Even besides all that, it wasn''t like either of the copycat gangs had the space to get as big or cause as much mayhem as the ABB did. With the size of both the Boston and New York Protectorate and Ward teams compared to Brockton Bay, they were lucky they didn''t get their shit pushed in if they even hinted at trying to act as blatantly as the now-dead Azn Bad Boys. If Greg had to be honest, he''d have to say that both those cities'' hero teams were also a good bit more powerful on average compared to Brockton Bay, and he doubted anyone in their right mind could or would disagree with him on that. It was definitely something of an undeniable fact when it came to their leaders, considering as great of a Tinker as Armsmaster was, the man was no Hero. Still, I gotta give it to him. Greg hedged to himself, Bastion''s pretty much racist, and odds are good Legend''s probably a cannibal or something ¡ª no one''s that squeaky clean ¡ª so I''m still on Armsmaster''s side for coolest Protectorate boss. Nodding to himself at his own reasoning, Greg glanced back at Seo with a questioning glance, blue eyes brimming with visible confusion. "But yeah, apart from that guy and like the boss from Boston, nobody cares about these guys. They''re not complete jokes but they''ve never really done much but kinda look scary. Actually¡­ Why are we even talking about these two? They''re all literal wannabes." The AGB administrator straightened and shifted his expression into another of his various interchangeable displays of general reticence, face not showing much more than a wall of vague displeasure. "Some of my boys in Boston ¡ª a few guys I ask to keep an ear out for me, just in case ¡ª heard talk that the Sky Triad''s been looking to step up and step out¡­" Seo raised a closed fist to his mouth, clearing his throat before continuing, "Apparently, they''ve heard that there''s some territory up for grabs." The confusion vanished in an instant, replaced with a gleam of something else. "~Oh." The focused interest in Greg''s simple response went seemingly unnoticed by Seo as the man continued speaking. "Exactly. I''m thinking, what with Lung gone thanks to¡­ you know¡­" The cape in the room let out a warning hum, prompting Seo to abandon that statement as a drop of nervous sweat eased down his brow. "Anyway, it''s looking like they might be leaving Boston for Brockton B-." "Hold up," Greg cut in, unable to hide his interest. "Just to be clear you''re sure about this?" "Uh..." Indecision flashed across Seo''s face, the man clearly not sure. "That''s where it gets tricky." "Seo?" "L-look, boss. I can''t say for sure that they''ll make a move. It''s looking gridlocked with their bosses on this," the unlit cigarette still at the side of his mouth struggled to stay in place as the man shook his head. "From what I know, it''s two-to-one, attack vs stay in place. Thing is though, the one is the big boss." Greg nodded. Raijin. The guy was a high-level Blaster, nothing like Legend or even Purity, but anything short of a bunker wasn''t going to be in one piece after taking a bunch of his "lightning" barrages. The other members of the Triad were a Shaker and a Brute, but they couldn''t bring the same level of power to the table like Raijin did. "I know they''re recruiting more capes but after that," Seo shook his head again, "it''s looking more like guesswork to me and it''s kinda stupid to roll out the guns off false intel." Damn it. There goes my fun, I guess. Rolling his eyes, Greg let out a long sigh, only to cut the noise short as he recalled there was more on the table. "Wait¡­ the Flying Dragons. You mentioned them for a reason. They''re looking like they''re gonna attack m-us?" This better be good. "...well." "Seo." I swear to god, man. The tired-looking gangster gave his boss something of a shrug, one hand raised to scratch his forehead. "That''s still to be seen, boss." "Then why are they even on the board?" "That¡­" Seo''s expression rose slightly, looking far more at ease than just seconds before. "That is something I got an answer for. Yesterday¡­" a hand entered the jacket pocket of his suit and the man pulled out a phone. A quick tap on the screen later and the man turned the device around to show off a somewhat blurry image of an Asian man in a simple white T-shirt mid-stride. A tribal tattoo of a thin winged dragon was visible on his upper bicep. "Scouts caught several people we think are Sky Triad scoping out the territory." "Uh-huh." "Specifically, your safehouses and private spots. This fucker here," Seo tapped his phone screen with a single digit, "almost tried to break into one of them, the small storage house on the edge of Downtown." Greg let out another hum, this one without any real undertone to it. "Wouldn''t have worked anyway." "I know that," Seo nodded, agreeing immediately. "but the boys sure fuckin'' don''t." The blond''s head tilted forward in acceptance, glad that the secret he had shared with Seo had remained that way. His thoughts drifted towards the dragon-shaped key in his inventory that did much more than unlock doors. He wondered when, if ever, anyone else would discover that to break into any of Lung''s old spots, you''d have to break the place itself. Probably no time soon. "Okay." Greg nodded again. "So we''ve got some guys who may or not be planning to fight me and a bunch of shitty thieves." The blond sighed out loud, expecting a bit more excitement than this. "That about cover it?" "Well¡­" Whatever Seo had been about to say was interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone, the man''s expression shifting towards apologetic as he silently requested permission to take the call. At the blond''s lazy gesture, Seo picked up the call and began conversing in rapid Japanese, Greg not paying any attention as his focus was suddenly captured by something else. Pip.
Your territory is under attack: Little China
Quest Gained! Klash of Klans VIII: Road Rage If the Empire''s grunts know how to do one thing right, it''s living down the ideal of the racist skinhead. Vehicles belonging to the Empire seems to be racing through your territory, white vans specifically, firing on any ABB that tries to chase after them. Stop the vans. Objectives - Stop the white Empire vans. [ ] Rewards: 5000 XP, $5000, + 2 Stat Point
Seo hung up the phone and Greg turned away from the quest screen, the translucent blue squares popping out of existence at the edge of his vision. The Japanese man glanced at his boss with an expression even more serious than usual. "Boss¡­" "I know." Greg grinned back, one hand on his red mask as he rose to his feet. "Time for work." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Lag 6.8 Lag 6.8 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 11, 2011 11:42 PM A pair of hard red boots met the top of the rooftop as their owner made contact in a deceptively silent landing. With less than a half-second''s pause, the figure was on the move again. Body blurring from the speed of a single step, the cape leapt up and into the air, clearing several rooftops with a single flip and repeating the move that led to his original landing with just as much finesse. His feet flitted on the side of a rooftop as he slowed down for a few moments, movements looking oddly like a dance. Doing so on the edge of a rooftop was not the best idea, though, as the cape let out a slight grunt of surprise as both feet stepped completely off the roof. A half-second later, the fall turned into a blur of movement as the dark-clothed parahuman quickly spun his entire body into a forward flip. Red-gloved palms touched down before the rest of him as he landed on a shorter roof and his body flowed, twisting with the impact until he bounded upwards again, forcing himself into the air with just his hands to propel himself. Gotta work on that Acrobatics, he reminded himself as he popped back up to his feet. Can''t afford a slip like that in a fight. Granted, he doubted that there were very many capes in the city that could even manage to stress him, let alone cause trouble to risk having to pull out any crazy flips or gymnastics worthy of getting him close to a slip-up. Hardkour paused again mid-stride, busting out another dance move on the rooftop with the raucous symphony of the night traffic as his accompanying music. Maybe I can finally unlock a dancing ability too, he grimaced behind the mask. I don''t think this is what krumping looks like. He froze, hand cupping his chin. Or maybe, I''m just really really good at it already? Rolling his eyes, the blond teenager became a burst of movement once again, legs just short of gliding over the tightly-packed buildings. Travelling by rooftop had become almost completely normal by now, nightly excursions atop Brockton Bay''s middling skyline nothing more than a routine activity for him. Routine or not, they were a thankful break from the boring mess that was school. Today had been no different, honestly, and he was beginning to consider smashing his own head into a locker just to get a few days off ¡ª whether for health reasons or suspension from damaging school property, Greg didn''t really care. Speaking of lockers, he hadn''t seen a certain dark-skinned tough girl in a while, which was¡­ oddly worrying. Wait, a sec¡­ If he was being one hundred percent honest, he wasn''t sure Sophia had even been back to school this whole week. Man, I hope she''s not dead. She was all kinds of crazy and fun, he thought absently, vaulting over a large air-conditioning system. Wound up real tight, but fun still. The blond quickly shoved thoughts Sophia aside, her presence in his mind bringing up someone else that would probably leave him feeling much worse if he allowed himself to dwell. Duncan also hadn''t been at school today, either. Unlike Hess, Greg wasn''t worried about the junior Neo-Nazi not being present at all. He was just surprised that the asshole hadn''t tried to have him killed by now. Greg wasn''t sure what part of his brain had gone so weird that he was smiling at the idea of a mob of racist gangsters trying to beat him to death, but it apparently had. Man, it''s good to be me. Cars honked below him, floodlights and streetlights fighting the darkness of the Brockton nights at street level. Engines propelled the vehicles at almost half the speed he moved several stories above them, his speed and elevation mixing with the darkness of the night and rendering him near-invisible to anyone who happened to glance up towards the street-facing buildings. Even still, his own eyes were immune to the gloom of midnight, Darkvision allowing him to see everything as if light were a simple constant. Colors may have been a bit iffy, but there was no chance of the shadows hiding anything from him now. "He flies through the air with the greatest of ease," he shouted into the air as a quick kick sent him into the sky again. Like a rocket, he bounded towards a distant rooftop with a spray of dust scattering across the rooftop behind him. He followed the action fluidly with a backwards handspring, and then two more, until he was flipping sideways across rooftops. "A daring young man with his dyed-black jammies,"Hardkour sang the half-remembered song with a laugh as he spun in mid-air like a top, red scarf trailing behind him like the tail of a meteor. "Something something graceful, dancing on the breeze." With another leap, he cleared an entire street, hurtling back to the same street simply to land on another rooftop with quiet grace. With only a peal of wild laughter to emphasize his landing, Greg Veder burst forward with another inhuman rush of speed. Tonight had pretty much been a slow night, much like the previous night. The only glaring exception was that the night before had been mostly silent, while tonight might as well have been the most peaceful night since Bakuda had lost a good fifteen or so inches from her height. It was calm. It was quiet. Greg didn''t like it. Or, more accurately, he couldn''t find it in himself to trust it. Even as he edged his way across the rim of the border to Downtown area, bounding across rooftops like a demented rabbit, the thought still made itself heard all the way from the very back of his mind. Things should be happening, it whispered. Something is wrong somewhere. People are hurting, the voice urged him every idle moment. Villains are running free. Go find them. Go stop them. Go FIGH- The kid almost faltered mid-leap, shaking his head as he focused on the next landing in front of him. A slight touch of mana on the bottom of his soles activated just the barest hint of his Surface Adhesion and he slid across the slanted rooftop without missing a beat, bouncing back over the skyline the moment before he met nothing but air. Okay, maybe I am a bit fight-happy, he thought to himself with a nod. Sparky was right. Something to work on. Maybe it was the fact that he just had too much energy now, so much in fact that barely sleeping for the better part of two weeks hadn''t even made him slip up much when it came to fighting criminals. A few slightly slow reflexes, sure, and a couple of bullets that he could have avoided if he was paying better attention, maybe, but nothing important. Maybe I actually do need sleep and I can just ignore it better now. His eyes narrowed again, filing that thought away for further research. Still, it wouldn''t do to get used to not sleeping and then end up getting thrown into Hookwolf''s giant murder-blender of a mouth, Greg thought with a wide smile. Wait, what the¡­ The blond''s mouth, which had beaming with a wide-toothed grin underneath his helmet-mask, closed and turned down immediately as he realized that he had actually been getting excited at the thought of Hookwolf eating him. That''s not good. That''s not good at all. Am I getting all twitchy because I''m not sleeping or¡­ The feeling of restlessness and eagerness to fight something had persisted ever since the ABB had crumbled apart ¡ª thanks to him, of course ¡ª and at first, he hadn''t paid it much attention, really. It was pretty easy to push the odd sensation aside to relax with his mom, making her meals and doing his best to spend time together as he took care of her. Still, he could only ignore it for so long. It had only been a few nights in when he had laid awake on his bed over the covers in as little clothing as he could manage, skin hot and body brimming with restless energy as he stared at the ceiling of his room. Desperate for something to do, he had tried to occupy his mind by counting the imperfections in the patterned surface above him before something seemed to give and suddenly ¡ª
Your Territory is under attack!
And just like that, he was back in business, baby! Or, well, something close enough to it. Fighting two-bit criminals and thugs armed with guns, knives, bats and crowbars lost their appeal real quick when he realized that these guys were painfully slow and horribly weak, even when he was holding back. It was a good time-waster, at least, but Greg wanted more. He was beginning to get so deeply bored, doing the same thing for the better part of a month. Every night, fighting the same normal, weak thugs. If it hadn''t been for the fact that he had to kinda keep the ABB from¡­ well, being the ABB, Greg was pretty sure he would have considered finding Kaiser''s door and kicking it in just to get a good fight. He needed something to get his blood pumping in his ears again, and as much as they tried to be a threat, the average Nazi with an Uzi was barely a warm-up at this point. Hell, he had to goof around just to make a fight even stretch out past a few seconds when he wasn''t even using any powers, even with multiple guys ganging up on him at once. It was almost enough to make a guy go back into his room and play World of Heroes with a new character until he was at endgame content again, despite the literal hell that was. However, a little over a week ago, his mindset had changed in a big way. As he was loosening the teeth from some Empire goon''s jaw and scoffing at the boredom of it all, a seemingly brilliant idea had dropped into his brain, much the same way the thug''s teeth had dropped onto the sidewalk. Not even a quest, it was a simple idea on it''s own. A simply amazing idea, if he could say so himself. And he did. Genius, even. And here he was, about to put another step of it into practice. Greg dropped to the final rooftop in a silent three-point landing, as was appropriate, and remained completely silent as the figure he landed next to let out a small yelp of surprise. The yelp was followed by something of a jump backwards, the frightened young man nearly falling out of his plastic chair as it leaned too far back. Eyes wide, he let out a few more gasps of surprise, each one lowering in volume as he realized he wasn''t falling anymore, a red-gloved hand holding his plastic lawn chair from tipping back any further. "You okay?"
Takeshi "Tak" Huoyan Lv 12 AGB Brawler HP: 275/275 A motivated martial arts student and gymnast, the 17-year-old half-Japanese/half-Chinese Takeshi has never excelled much academically or socially. His usual stoic and prickly personality has done a good job at chasing off most of the people who might be his friends. In addition to his martial skill, he is also a promising artistic talent, but still chooses to remain in the ABB for whatever reason.
The young man opposite Greg quickly collected himself as all four legs of his chair met solid ground. Shaking his head, the teenager got to his feet, brushing off what might have been either dust or crumbs from his red t-shirt. After a moment''s hesitation, the wiry teenager bent at the waist to pick up his fallen binoculars and raised his head again. The older boy offered Hardkour an uncomfortable attempt at a smile, the expression too terse and tight to really be called such. After thinking better of it, Takeshi simply sighed and nodded back. "...yeah, boss. I''m good." Ignoring the obvious lie, the cape in question turned his attention towards the building across the street, a renovated two-story office building built with wood unlike the usual brick of most places on this side of Downtown. "Any movement over there?" The older teenager at his side shook his head, clearing his throat a moment later, before he replied, "Nah, boss. Place is dead. Empty since I''ve been on watch and I''ve been out here since five," the AGB scout added on, likely to emphasize just how long he''d been waiting. "I''m guessing it''s just an old safehouse." "Safe house, huh?" Greg mused aloud, taking in the building once more. Well, that''s helpful, he thought to himself, his inner voice acerbic as Sparky''s own. Thanks for telling me what I figured out last night. Once again, Greg found himself wondering what he really needed the AGB for, other than using them to take care of what was now his stuff. For example, he had figured out that this place was a safehouse the night before.
Quest Failed! Klash of Klans VIII: Road Rage Objectives - Stop the white Empire vans. [X]
He hadn''t bothered chasing after the vans, not in any real obvious way, simply letting them drive through ABB territory as he watched them from the rooftops. After all, by the time he had arrived, there was no one for the Empire to shoot at, the gang having gotten the message Seo put out to stay away from his fights. A side of him had screamed at him to do something, anything, as he followed the white vans racing around and shouting slurs but another side stood strong and held the screaming part down, Greg letting patience win this round. It had taken actual effort not to jump down and flip over the Empire vehicles or rip out engines and smash in tires, even more so when he watched the vans slow down from highway velocities to speeds more appropriate in a school zone. When one of the vans actually came to a complete stop and a couple Eighty-Eighters actually stepped out of the van to wave guns around, the blond almost had to hold himself back, the thought of performing an reinforced aerial divekick through the van''s engine block flitting through his mind. Yet, he persisted. He simply followed along as that single van sped out of his territory, the other vans likely doing the same, not making a single move to stop the vans like the quest demanded he do. The screaming from that certain over-eager side of him only worsened as he acknowledged to himself he was willfully letting himself fail the quest, but he didn''t give up on whatever plan he had decided on. After chasing the van across town, it had finally come to a stop right here in this quiet little business outlet, parked across the building he was currently staring at right now. Five Empire gangsters had gotten out of the van, grinning and laughing like idiots with the weapons in their hands on full display as they crossed the silent street early in the morning and headed into what should have been a simple office building. He waited and watched, eyes alert and taking in everything from across the street. His patience paid off. Within the hour, all of them had left the place and gone elsewhere, half of them jumping into a bright-red muscle car and tearing off down the street. He didn''t mind much, not even bothering to stop them because now, he was left alone to peer into the building without being spotted, specifically the upstairs windows left unshuttered . A small two-floor "office building" is what it may have been on the outside, but the inside made it clear that the only workers that used the space were of the Neo-Nazi variety. What he couldn''t make sure of with his eyes alone was met with confirmations by Analyze, the ability formerly known as Observe picking out crates of guns and what were clearly stores of morphine and other prescription drugs. The fact that the latter two were in MedHall packaging made it obvious that the Empire had stolen them, Greg not needing any power to confirm that much. With the doors and windows locked, there was no obvious way to enter and wreck the place without making it clear someone had been there so he had decided to end the night with simple recon. However, that was then. This was now. And now, he had to leave the Empire a message. "And you''re sure nobody''s inside, right?" Hardkour glanced back at Takeshi, the athletic teen digging around in the backpack he had with him. "Some idiot didn''t sneak in when you weren''t looking?" The older boy raised his head from his bag and shook it fiercely, expression set in a thin, serious line. "No one gets past me." Greg raised an eyebrow. "Sure." Tone it down, dude. For real. The cape cast a scrutinizing glance at the large backpack Takeshi was still digging through, both curiosity and eagerness triggering a question. "You got what Seo told you to bring?" What I told him to tell you to bring, went unsaid. "Yes, sir." With another nod, he removed his hands from the bag, the backpack falling to the ground as Takeshi pulled out a small video camera from the bag. "Got it right here." Greg''s grin returned in full force, not that Takeshi could see it. "Good. That''s real good." He turned his back to the minion Seo had sent on this job, taking a few steps toward the edge. His eyes locked onto the same van he had followed down here parked more than a few feet to the side of the building directly across the safehouse. "Now meet me downstairs." Takeshi''s blink of surprise was almost audible. "Wait, wh-" He let himself fall. The thirty-foot fall barely even stung, Hardkour''s knees bent to absorb the force of the drop, but even if it had hurt, the blond wouldn''t have let it bother him. Already in motion, his full focus was on the vehicle just a few meters from him, the pure white of the van from last night having been desecrated with graffiti. On his orders, of course. Takeshi wasn''t just here to be a lookout, after all. Greg had asked Seo to send out one of his boys that could graffiti up a car with the best of them and it hadn''t taken the Japanese man long at all to carry out that order, as odd as the man probably thought it was. Case in point, Greg came to a pause barely a foot away from the car and began to walk around it, admiring the art work on both sides. "You like it, boss?" came a slightly out of breath voice from behind him. The blond didn''t bother turning around to acknowledge Takeshi, the older teenager having made great time at racing down the fire escape of the building to meet up with him. "I¡­" Hardkour let out a laugh, one that strayed too close to a giggle in his own opinion. Can''t giggle in front of the minions, security risk. Shutting down the laugh, he cast a glance back at Takeshi, one hand gesturing forwards at the marked van. "I freaking love this, Takeshi! You did amazing!" Truthfully, the words "Fuk U Kaiser" and "E88 Suks Dik" had never looked so beautiful, the big tribal lettering in red and blue paint doing a spectacular job of getting his message across. If that wasn''t enough, the image on the van''s back doors ¡ª that of an actual anthropomorphic swastika with it''s mouth open and something in it¡­ Well, it only served to drive said point all the way home, in his opinion. Talk about leaving a message. "I know Seo told you to go nuts, but this¡­ this is art." "Thanks, boss." Takeshi nodded his head in appreciation, Greg actually noticing his reddened cheeks in the dark. "I finished like a good hour and a half back so it should be good to go for whatever you want to do with it." "Yeah." The blond nodded along as well, voice oddly wistful as he replied. "Whatever I want to do with it." After a moment''s thought, the blond un-inventoried a confiscated smartphone he had wiped clean and made his own, the thing appearing in his hand in a flash of blue light. Taking a moment to snap a few pics of the vehicle, he returned the device to whence it came before shooting a glance back at Takeshi. "That camera ready?" "Yeah, just¡­ one sec, boss." Takeshi fumbled with the strap of the device for a few seconds, until he held the thing properly in one hand. With the other, he pushed something on the camera, one that Greg couldn''t see but was more than likely the Record button. "Okay. And three¡­ two¡­ one. You''re on." Hardkour glanced back at the van and let out a quiet sigh, not at all having expected Takeshi''s graffiti work to be anywhere near this good. It was almost sad that such a piece of art was gonna have to go to waste like this. Almost. Dropping to his knees, Greg''s hands found purchase on the van''s underside and immediately let out a grunt as he attempted to rise to his feet. "What th-" Greg ignored Takeshi''s voice as he tried to manage the mass of the thing bearing down on him, threatening to force him to the ground with the full weight of almost a full three tons on top of his body. The cape drew in a lungful of stale air as he tipped the vehicle upwards, rocking it just enough for it to tip over towards him. "Nggghhhhh!" He rocked the van again, forcing it to tip even further and forcing even more weight on his poor protesting knees and back.
+ 2 STR 220 ¡ú 222
In hindsight, he could see how this was not the best of ideas. "Nggggh!" In fact, it was edging rather close to what some might consider a bad idea. Taking another breath of precious air, Greg took one of his hands, with the other one still holding the bottom as he crouched even deeper, and used the flat of his palm to support the van. "Hrrrrrnnngggh!" Oooh, there''s a new sound, the non-protesting side of his brain chimed in. That one too. Is that what a breaking spine sounds like? Keep going and let''s find out. Ignoring himself, Greg prepared to do what was turning out to be one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life so far. He rose.
+ 1 STR 222 ¡ú 223
All the strength he had worked for and acquired through his blood, sweat and other fluids screamed in pure exhilaration and something that was probably also some sort of pain as Greg pushed them all for the purpose of pure upward thrust. There was no Reinforcement to make this easier. No special magic skill that he pulled out of his ass to ease the pain. Just his own pure muscle. Only me, A trembling Greg thought with excitement, blood boiling at his own self-induced challenge. Anything Reinforcement can do, I can do better.
+ 1 STR 223 ¡ú 224
He ignored the second notification as best he could and attempted to rise further. With only a slight stagger, the blond reared up even further, more than halfway along the way to his full breath came hard and heavy but he did his best to ignore it, well aware that he wasn''t anywhere close to exhausted. You got this. "Nnnnggghhhh!" Okay, maybe a little Reinforcement couldn''t hurt.
+ 2 VIT 201 ¡ú 203
On the other hand, though, he was getting one hell of a workout. "...why¡­ ngggghhh¡­ is this¡­ nggh¡­ so¡­ frickin''... heav-Nnnggghhh-gaaAAAAHhh!"
- 50 HP
Both his arms jerked as he screamed for all he was worth. Hurling the vehicle in his arms forward with as much strength he could muster in an instant, the weight on his body thankfully vanished, the pain and sudden red glow of light along with it. Almost immediately, the blond dropped to his knees with both hands slapping hard on the asphalt. Forehead dripping with sweat from exertion, he stared down at the ground and let out a long groan. "!" The indescribable din of crumpling metal and crumbling wood and brick resounded through the street and drowned out whatever noise he could have made, and the continuing noise of shattering glass and falling building materials muffled his further noises of various physical complaints. "HOLY FUCK!" Another voice made itself heard over the noise, the other teenager on the street unable to control himself at the sight. "HOLY FUCKING FUCK!" Greg Veder grinned. Yeah, this is gonna be fun. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ?
Greg Lucas Veder
Job: Student
Age: 15 Title: Ninja - Low Class
Level 33 Experience 26000/60000
Health 3320/3320
Mana 1240 Will 1248
STR 224 INT 90
SPD 137 (142) WIS 22 (-70%)
VIT 203 CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 0 Perk Points 10
Cash: $2,550
TRAITS
Nerd-Geek Hybrid: Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it+50% bonus to INT gains -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains. Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. -70% to total WIS -90% to total CHA. Casanova Bloodline: As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. + 9 CHA Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Greater Human The true power of human beings is that we can change ourselves on our own. Pushing yourself past the limits of what could ever be considered human, you have entered into a realm that even the most obtuse would notice as distinctly in-human. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 200 pts)
PERKS
Baby Steps (1/3) With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. Capegoat (5/5) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. Danger Sense (6/10) My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Darkvision It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Developed Mind (7/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Dragon King''s Aura (1/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Flowing Mana The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base mana recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 MP/s) Growing Will (6/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Greater Iron Body "It''s a good thing I''m so buff, or that fall would''ve killed me. " What is your body made of, exactly? It can''t be anything human. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, applying after all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest +10% of blunt damage inflicted totaling less than 5% of innate health is negated. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The clarity of your vision scales with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (10/10) Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/s)
TITLES
Dragonbane Knight To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Low-Class Ninja Hide in shadows and darkness. You''re a ninja! A NINJA! Cool... Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 35% and + 5 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
SKILLS
Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 19 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Analyze The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. Cost: 1 MP Dash Straight Lv 20 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter Electrokinesis (Minor) Lv 1 A human taser. Impressive? You''ve got the power of lightning at your finger-tips. Sadly, that''s pretty much as far as it goes. Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Mana Barrier Lv 6 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana Magnetism (Minor) Lvl 1 Magnets? How do they work? You possess all the power of an office magnet toy. Cost: 5 mp per second of sustained use Mana Bolt Lv 3 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 7 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (0.5 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lv 6 Great Balls of Fire! You''re a walking firestorm, the ability to launch enough flame at once to set an entire building ablaze from hundreds of feet away. Cost: 250 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Raging Combo Lv 18 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 6 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique. (230%) Cost: 5 Will/s
  • Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR Cost: 50 Will, 50 HP
  • Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten.
Surface Adhesion Lv 20 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object.
  • Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 23 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (11.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
ABILITIES
Acrobatics Lv 46 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv MAX Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 20 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (40%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (10%) Breath-Holding Lv 25 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (12.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 6 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 10 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 18 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (36%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 8 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (40%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (16%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 17 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (17%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 15 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 10 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. (10%) Meditation Lvl 30 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (300%) Parry Lv 17 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (34%) Reflexes II Lvl 1 That''s two bullets. Child''s play. When you can avoid six bullets, then you will have accomplished something. Decreases innate reaction time by .1% per level. (95%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 70 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (52.5%) Resistance: Cold Lv 8 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat II Lv 4 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Reduces heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks up to 200% of health. (4%) + Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (75%)
  • Salamander''s Skin I burn... well, not really? Complete immunity to heat damage with a magnitude up to half of 1% of Innate VIT.
Resistance: Piercing Lv 40 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (30%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 18 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (13.5%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 25 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (50%) Stamina Lvl 25 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (125 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 40 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (80%) Taunt Lv 19 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (38%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Family Life Cutscene: Family Life ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The wheels on the cherry-red Camaro squealed to a halt, wheels threatening to diverge on the curb as it came to an oddly diagonal stop in front of a simple cookie-cutter house, one of nigh-uncountable many in a neighborhood full of quickly made cookie-cutter houses. Within the vehicle, a gloved hand moved behind the wheel, the powerful engine silencing itself completely as it pulled the key from the ignition. Pocketing the key before anything else, the driver sat quietly in the car for a few seconds, pinpoint pupils staring straight ahead before his head began to list towards the right. It only took a moment for him to catch sight of something that pulled his satisfied grin sharply downwards, his face now bearing an annoyed grimace. "Fuck." The word came out a harsh whisper, the driver''s hands twitching as he seemingly held himself from submitting to the urge to punch the wheel. "FuckFuckFuckFuckFuck!" At the end of the quiet tirade, he let out a frustrated hiss of air, both expelling themselves with force from the driver''s mouth as he pushed on the wheel of the car, the back of his leather jacket pressed tight against the driver''s seat as he held back another curse. The custom leather of the wheel squealed slightly as he gripped it, lanky fingers stretched wide as he furled and unfurled them. Another sigh left him, somewhat muffled this time under the hand he raised to rub his bloodshot eyes. He raised the same hand higher to rub at his forehead, bottle-blond bangs brushed aside as his fingers massaged away a growing stress headache. Jaw tight, the man reached down and to the right of him, fingers quickly closing around something and retreating with it as he raised his prize to his face. Despite the sun already beginning to set, the Brockton Bay sky lit up in shades of orange and red, the blond man carefully put on a pair of dark sunglasses, only pausing to adjust the eyewear slightly with one hand as he opened the car door with the other. As the door slammed shut behind him, the gloved man took his time walking around his sports car. His mouth twisted up in a roguish grin that was almost entirely forced, a single hand trailing along the side and back of his Camaro as he kept both eyes locked on the house in front of him. More specifically, his gaze was focused directly at the man standing defensively on the porch of said house, both arms folded over his slender chest. A pair of light blue eyes glared warily at the approaching man from behind a set of horn-rimmed glasses, his own brown irises a stark mismatch despite both their faces looking oddly similar otherwise. The new arrival continued walking forward in silence, showing off freshly-whitened teeth in a wide grin. The grin remained as he raised his gloved hands up to his chest, palms facing outwards as if to say ''see, I''m harmless''. Finally taking his first step across the property line, he raised one hand a bit higher to offer the other man a wave. "H-" "What are you doing here, Cameron?" Cameron didn''t pause his forward motion at the interruption, not even flinching at it as he continued towards the porch. The man standing on the porch, however, seemed to lose his grit the closer the other man came, his glare losing heat with each step. When they finally stood face-to-face, barely more than half the length of a ruler between them, he allowed his grin to lessen into a closed-mouth smile and cocked his head slightly. Taking a shallow breath, he finally spoke. "Kenneth Isaiah Duncan¡­" Cameron threw his hands out to the side, his smile brightening authentically as the man on the porch fought a flinch at his sudden action. Black sunglasses stared back at clear frames, open arms within a leather jacket directly across from a pair of folded arms over a yellow sweater vest and tie. "Is that how we treat our family? Your own little brother?" He took no small bit of enjoyment at the almost-flinch on his older brother''s face at the use of the word little to describe himself, both well aware that if it wasn''t for the roughly seven inches of height the porch gave him, he and Ken wouldn''t exactly be seeing eye-to-eye. Letting out a laugh, Cameron dropped both his hands on his older brother''s shoulders, the smaller man buckling slightly. Shrugging his sibling''s hands away, Kenneth tried to keep his glare strong as he scowled back. "I told you never to come back here." "That was a whole month ago." The bespectacled man looked blatantly confused for a moment, expression shifting to one of annoyance and outrage as he bit back. "Don''t play with me, Cam." "Kenny, brother, just¡­ try and relax, okay. I''m not here to mess with your little happy suburban¡­" Cameron snorted as he threw a dismissive gesture at the entirety of his sibling''s home. "Whatever." Despite flinching at the nickname, Kenneth remained unmoved. "This is my house," he stated firmly. "I have a right to know what you''re doing here." "What, a man can''t stop by to see his family now?" Cameron replied with fake hurt coloring his tone. "Is that the kind of world we''re living in?" Kenneth''s eyes narrowed. "I missed my big brother." The blatant lie rolled off his tongue with ease. Seconds passed as they remained silent, the quiet sounds of a suburban neighborhood around them dying down as the sun slowly fell from the sky. "Fine, fuck you," Cameron spat after the better part of a minute went by in silence, true feelings bleeding through his expression as he frowned at his sibling. "Malcolm called me." "No. Don''t even try it." Ken told him flatly as he shook his head, having seen through the lie as soon as it met his ears. The guarded look in his eyes didn''t vanish as he shut down his little brother''s attempt to spin another untruth off of that one. "He''s been in his room since we brought him back from the doctor. No phone." Fuck. Cameron raised his eyebrows. "Okay¡­ fine," he said with a sigh. "Some friends of some friends let me know that Malcolm got fucked up the other day." Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. "Yeah, I bet they let you know. Why wouldn''t they, right? From what I know, this all leads back to you. You and your friends," Kenneth snapped, body tense as he held his brother''s gaze. "You know why I told you never to come back here." "He''s an adult." "He¡­" Heat bled into Kenneth''s voice as the smaller man hissed back, actually taking a half-step forward in his anger. "He¡­ My boy was sixteen before you and your people warped his mind." Cameron raised a hand to scratch at his hairline, fingers idly pulling aside a lock of his dyed-blond hair as he stared down his older brother with silent malice. "Get the fuck out of my way, Kenny." "I want you to turn around and lea-" "And what about it?" Cameron interrupted, taking a half-step forward on his own until he and his brother were chest-to-chest. " What are you gonna do if I don''t, Kenny?" Silence. "You gonna fight me?" he leaned forward, whispering in his older brother''s ear. "Ken Doll gonna grow some balls and throw a swing at his little bro? Is that what''s gonna happen right now?" Ken remained rigid. Yeah, that''s what I fucking thought. Cameron leaned backwards, looking his brother up and down with a smirk as Kenneth refused to say a word. "Now get the fuck out of the way so I can see the kid." Not bothering to wait for him to actually move, Cameron shoved his brother aside and went for the door. He paused with a single gloved hand around the doorknob, the word "pussy" leaving his mouth in a quiet mutter, before shaking his head and stepping into his brother''s home. It only took a single step inside for him to stop and sniff the air, delicious smells greeting him as he entered and making his mouth water. The man in the leather jacket walked into the kitchen, steps quick but light. A moment later, an unpleasant smile crossed his face as he spotted exactly who he was looking for, a long head of creamy blond hair above a shapely figure humming to herself as she moved ingredients from counter to pan. Her attention on whatever she had cooking on the stove, the woman was entirely unprepared as she turned around to face the six-five figure in a leather jacket and sunglasses as he waltzed into her kitchen. "Hey, Clarissa¡­ sweetheart. You miss me?" Her eyes widened as she stared with an open mouth, giving the tall man time to drink in her face. Man, 17 years later and she''s still amazing. "C-c...Cameron?" The name struggled and stumbled it''s way from the housewife''s mouth as she took a step back, expression betraying her discomfort. "Whe¡­ I mean¡­ h- Hello, Cameron. It''s nice to see you." "That''s all I get? A hello?" The other man scoffed, striding forward into the kitchen with his arms open. "Come on, we''re family. Give your brother a hug." Cameron Duncan felt his brother''s wife freeze in his arms as he wrapped them around her, body rigid and tense with only the softness and warmth of skin to separate her from a statue. It was only as his hands drifted lower that he felt movement return to her, first with a shudder and then¡­ "You¡­ Don''t d-" "Shhhhh." He smiled as he held his sister-in-law tighter, not that she could see it. His sister-in-law let out a gasp as he squeezed again and made an attempt to push him away, but Cameron held tight, prolonging the uncomfortable embrace. "Mmm-mmm-mmm. If we weren''t family¡­" We could have been more than that, though. "C-Cameron!" Her voice was little more than a squeak. "Mmm-hmmm, it sure ain''t Kenny." "Yes, because he''s right here." Cameron Duncan inwardly stifled an exasperated groan before it could pass his lips. "Of course you are," he called out without turning around, sarcasm edging his words as he addressed his brother. "You think I didn''t know that?" "I''m sure there''s a lot you don''t know, little brother," Kenneth bit back. "We could be here all day talking about it, but you won''t. Now finish your business and get out of my house." Cameron''s expression slackened Clarissa remained stock-still, barely even breathing as her husband''s brother gave her one final squeeze. Before he finally pulled away from the not-so-familial embrace, he bent slightly to whisper in her ear a few parting words that left the housewife just as rigid as before. "Still tight as ever, ain''t ya?" With that said, Cameron turned around to face his brother, a bright grin on his face to counter the bespectacled man''s burning glare. He knew those eyes well, his only remaining family eyeing him like a stranger being something he had grown used to since he was in his mid-teens. Despite that, he wasn''t fazed, simply stepping forward to near the other man. "You know, it''s rude to talk to a man like that. In fact, if I didn''t know any better, I''d think there was bad blood between us." Cameron Duncan lifted his sunglasses with a grin plastered on his face, brown eyes pinpricks as he shot a look at the smaller man that called himself his bigger brother. "But like you said, there''s a lot I don''t know. Ain''t that right, Ken Doll?" Silent threat, delivered with a smile. "I''ll be going to take care of that business now. Be a good boy, Kenny, and fix me a plate. We''ll have ourselves a nice family dinner." He clapped his brother on the shoulder harder than was strictly necessary, brushing the man aside as he made his way towards the stairs to the second floor of the house. Annoyance spiked in his chest as he stomped up the stairs with slow, deliberate steps, his forced smile fading away to leave a frowning grimace in its place. A little girl with creamy blond hair like her father and mother and distinctly unlike his stood halfway across the threshold of her room as he reached the second floor landing, a confused expression on her face as he walked right past her without pause. "Uncle Cammy?" "Hey there, Marilyn," he replied back, not even bothering to slow down as he continued down the hallway. A tiny voice at his back shouted "It''s Madeline!", not that he bothered to listen or really cared all that much. In seconds, he had reached the room he was looking for, the "Do not Enter" written in black with skull-and-crossbones below it confirming whose room it was if he didn''t know already. The door creaked as he threw it open, welcoming him to the the chaotic mess of a cluttered bedroom and the teenager lying on top of an unmade bed. A surprised face that looked like the spitting image of his own stared back at him with a hard-to-parse expression, the dark bruises all over his kisser likely making it a challenge to interpret anything in particular from just a look. "Uncle Cam?" His response was immediate and rushed, one gloved palm raised up to keep his nephew from saying another word. "Yeah, kid. It''s me. Don''t bother talking. I heard all about it." "Y- you did?" Cameron nodded. "Yeah, you brawled with some kid who wanted to one-up the big man. That shit''s normal. He was the right kind, though, so you lost but it''s not as big of a deal." Malcolm Duncan blinked, managing to look confused past a face full of bruises. "What do you mean, not a big d-?" "What did I just say about talking, Mal?" Cameron barked. "I love you, kid, but shut the fuck up when I''m trying to tell you something important." Mal quieted down almost immediately, leaning back on his bed without even putting up a token resistance. "Anyway, you got in a fight. You got your ass kicked. No big deal, right?" Cameron turned suddenly, a snarl on his face. "Wrong. The big shit on the floor I''m seeing here is that apparently, this mutt ¡ª a black-beanjew, the fucking shit cocktail ¡ª sucker-punched you in the middle of your fight, right?" "...Yeah," Mal answered bitterly, a few seconds of silence preceding his reply. "If I''m getting this right, the little shit spit on you too?" "...He did." "See, that''s the shit we can''t let stand. Any other day, if that happened to one of my crew, I''d call up some boys and we''d shoot up that fuckin'' house of roaches. But this is special. You''re family, Mal. You''re important to me." Cameron began around the room, arms crossed as he kicked aside any piece of clothing unfortunate enough to be in his path. "I got something special coming up. Something that I want you to be a part of. You''re gonna take care of this yourself, little man. Let me lay it out for you." At the end of it, Cameron spoke for a good ten minutes, giving his nephew everything he needed to know about what he had in mind. At the end of it, Malcolm just smiled. Lag 6.9 Lag 6.9 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 13, 2011 9:42 PM "Not gonna lie, this is kinda nice." Hand outstretched with the remote pointed towards the television, Greg Veder glanced back at his friend and raised a single eyebrow. "What is?" Axel "Sparky" Ramos sighed as he leaned back on the couch, can of iced tea in hand. "This, dummy." He shook his head, lips arching upwards into a relaxed smirk as he took a sip of his drink. "Like, just chilling for no reason. Your place, my place, when was the last time we did anything like this, just hung out after school?" As Greg turned around fully, his butt moving along the carpet in an undignified scoot, he couldn''t really find it in him to disagree with Sparky''s words. "Yeah, I guess it has been a bit. That''s not really on us, though," he added roughly a second later, tossing the remote to his friend. "Here, you find something good to watch." Sparky let out a scoff as he caught the launched device, placing his can softly on the coffee table a moment later. "You''re supposed to make me comfortable. I''m the guest here, brah." Despite his words, he didn''t hesitate in continuing to flip through the program guide still on the screen. "Doubt," Greg retorted, looking almost offended as he flopped down on the couch next to him, air leaving the cushions with an audible noise. "Big doubt on that one." "What?" "You are not a guest," Greg clarified, arms going behind his head as he leaned back on the couch. "You''ve been over here like dozens of times, like, c''mon, dude." "Counterpoint, I don''t live here," his friend shot back immediately. "That makes me a guest." "Okay, yeah, you''re correct but you''re not right." The blond''s mouth fell open as he stared at Sparky incredulously. "Do you not remember the two of us dancing to Smooth Criminal in this living room last year, banging on pots and pans?" He gestured all around the space they were in, as if to emphasize his point. "At that point, you''re not a guest." Axel scoffed again, as he continued flipping through channels. "Yeah, whatever, that was freshman shit. Either way, I''m still right, brah." "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah. Open a dictionary, look up the word guest, and you''d see my face right there." "Again, doubt" Greg turned over to face his friend. "Like they''d put your face in the dictionary." Sparky shot Greg a half-offended look with a single raised eyebrow. "So, you think I''m ugly?" "''Course not," the blond winked one bright blue eye at him, "you''re the prettiest boy I know. They wouldn''t put your face in the dictionary because no one would look at any other page" Sparky couldn''t fight the honest smile creeping across his face. "...Oh, fuck off." Greg grinned back. "You first." "Suck a dick." "Isn''t that more your thing?" he jabbed back, smile growing. After a moment, Greg stuck his tongue out and corrected himself. "Half your thing, whatever." Sparky simply shot him a frown, before he let out a long, burdened sigh and spoke again. "You know, brah, I never thought I''d miss the day you let me punch you into a bloody pulp, but wow, you just make the impossible come true." A slightly surprised gasp left the blond as he snapped his fingers, shaking his head with a smile at Sparky''s words. "Woah, I almost forgot about that day. Talk about a deep dive. I mean, like, that was fun, though, huh?" he added with a laugh. "You and me, testing my limits." Sparky''s mouth dipped downwards. "Yeah, sure, fun." "Come ooooooon, Sparky," Greg whined at him. "Don''t be like that, bro. It was fun. Well," he paused at the blank look his friend gave him, "it was fun for me, okay, and¡­ Well, honestly, if you hadn''t done it, I probably wouldn''t have survived Lung that first time. So, you¡­" Sparky winced slightly as a single finger poked him in the heart. "You saved my life, bro." Greg finished. "Yeah¡­" Axel shook his head, seemingly giving in with a sigh only for his eyes to snap wide open as he glanced back at Greg, "wait¡­ what? I did that?" "You did, in fact, do that and now ya boi Greg is a pest exterminator," Greg crooned as he jumped up on the couch, arms up in a bodybuilder''s flex. Unlike most of what he wore to school, most of his t-shirts were rather tight on his more developed body and his muscles visibly bulged with the movement. "All ''cause I took care of the city''s l~l~lizaaaaaard proble~em." "Were you really that close to dying?" "H-huh?" Sparky''s oddly unemotional voice cut into Greg''s celebratory flexing, the blond''s smile vanishing somewhat as he glanced down at his friend. Hopping down from the couch, Greg blinked and opened his mouth to reply, only for Sparky to beat him to it. "Were. You. Gonna. Die?" Each word was punctuated with a flex of his hands, knuckles tight against his skin as he spoke. "That first time, y''know? Is that like, true, or are you fucking with me?" "I¡­ well¡­ I mean," Greg bit his lip, words struggling to leave him. "I mean, I guess I was kinda bleeding out a bit. A bit more than a bit, yeah." Greg raised his hands a moment later, as he tried to downplay it before his friend could freak. "But before you say anythi-" "Y''know, I saw the video and all, brah," Sparky began again, already speaking over Greg with his voice raised slightly, "and you told me about the fight a lil'' bit but I¡­ I just¡­" Sparky stuck his tongue in one side of his cheek, quiet for a few seconds as he seemed to work over the words in his mouth, "I don''t know why you never mentioned that before." "Well," Greg snorted, the sound leaving him with a shrug of his shoulders. "Yeah, I didn''t cause¡­ I mean, it just wasn''t that big of a deal, y''know?" "How?" Sparky bit back, shooting Greg a dirty look. "How is that not a big deal? Almost dying is like one of the biggest damn deals, brah." "Okay, look, relax, dude," Greg began, palms still up. "It''s what I do. It''s how I fight. It''s how ya boi Greg gets stronger. I got like eleven whole level ups from that fight. I might have been hurt, y''know, but it''s part of the job" At first, Sparky didn''t reply, simply staring silently at Greg with a hard-to-read expression and the blond decided to take his friend''s silence as a sign that things were alright. Leaning backward slightly in another shrug, he asked, "So, are we coooool or¡­" "Stop talking about yourself in the third person." "Ya boi Greg makes no promises," he answered honestly, fairly certain he was going to keep doing that till he got bored of it. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Sparky let out an annoyed grunt, simply staring at his smirking friend. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Just answer something else real quick. These level ups?" Sparky asked, mouth forming oddly around the words. "I never asked you before¡­ but¡­ what do they feel like?" The blond teen blinked back, a hand suddenly rising to his chin. What kinda question, he mused to himself for a second, only to pause as he realized something else. Huh. He chose to vocalize the thought in the same instant, unable to help himself. "Huh." "What?" Greg tapped the side of his head. "I''ve never¡­ huh. I guess I''ve never thought about it. I usually get them in the heat of the moment, but still¡­" His face scrunched up in thought, the teenager let himself drift off as his friend simply looked on. After a few seconds of near-silence, Sparky stood up from the couch to fix Greg with a serious look. Snapping his fingers, the other boy barked, "My question, blue-eyes. Pay attention." "Oh, yeah. Uhhhh¡­ Level Ups¡­ they feel like, like tingly, a little. Like a real quick massage inside of me, I guess? Even my brainmeat, weird as that sounds," Greg added with a chuckle as his friend mouthed the word ''brainmeat'' with an incredulous expression. "Especially when I get a bunch at once. Man, it''s like someone just shot Gamer Juice right into my veins. My heart kinda beats faster and¡­ I," he took in a slight breath of air, eyes closing for a moment before he stared down at his own curled palms, "¡­I just feel really good. Like, I can do anything." As the last word left Greg''s mouth in almost a whisper, he shook his head slightly and glanced up at his friend''s face, expecting some sort of recognition or understanding for his explanation. Instead of that, he was met with an odd look from Sparky, an odd look that the blond wasn''t quite sure how to read, but felt nothing at all like understanding. If he didn''t know any better, he''d even say Sparky looked sad. Ughhh. The teenager ignored the urge to shudder as he glanced away for a moment to stare at the television, feeling oddly uncomfortable with the held gaze for a reason he couldn''t explain. "... I need to use the bathroom." Greg turned back as his long-haired friend already began to move past him. "What?" He reached a hand out to grab his friend''s shoulder, and frowned a little as Sparky warded him off before he could even make contact. "Wait, Sparks. I know what I said might have sounded kinda weird, maybe, but you gott-" "Whatever." Sparky shook his head, expression stiff as he turned his back on Greg''s attempt to explain himself. "I don''t care, okay. It''s weird. You''re weird. Whatever, brah. Just let me use the fuckin'' bathroom." Greg kept quiet as he watched his friend walk out of the living room, mouth clamped shut even as he caught the whispered hiss that were Sparky''s final words. "Fuckin'' hell, man." Several seconds passed before Greg finally let out a tired sigh of his own and fell backwards against the couch in a slump. "Jeeez¡­" he began to himself, stretching out both the ''e'' and ''z'' until it trailed away. "He asks me stuff. I answer what he asks. Why am I the bad guy now?" He let his head loll to the side, releasing a long muffled groan into his mother''s couch. Christ on a cracker, everything was cool up till now. What just happened? Greg honestly didn''t understand how things had changed up so quickly. Inviting Sparky to spend the weekend had been a spur of the moment thing, something he had done all the time before without even thinking about it. He didn''t even have to ask his mom, considering his best friend had been over so many weekends before without her even saying a word about it. Granted, Sparky did have to ask his parents, but that was pretty much a courtesy phone call, considering both he and Greg knew they''d say yes. And they had. The whole afternoon had been a mess of just random fun, starting with him and Sparky hitting up a Chinese place for some food to bring home after school. After bringing home enough food to feed like two dozen people (thanks, Inventory!) and playing a bunch of fighting games till Sparky got frustrated at losing almost fifty times in a row (it would have been more, but Greg decided to be nice), all they had done was chill and flip through random channels on the tv, watching whatever caught their interest. It was¡­ Honestly, it was pretty chill. Until, apparently, he had said something that set Sparky off. "Ugggggghhhhhh," Greg groaned once more into the cushions. To make things worse, he still wasn''t exactly sure which part of what he said got to his friend so bad. It was like playing a game of Jenga talking to the guy sometimes. He wasn''t sure what would get him a lecture, or a mean look. I mean, yeah, I poke at him ''cause it''s fun, but¡­. He let out a sigh, pulling himself up until he was leaning forward on the couch, hands on his knees. Half the time, he rolls with it and other times, he goes off and lectures me or stops talking to me or whatever. An annoyed scowl formed on Greg''s face, a grimace below narrowed eyes. And it''s not like I even did anything on purpose this time. I just told him the truth. And if that''s gonna make him pissed at me, then... He quickly hopped up from the couch, tight fist dropping into his open palm as he came to a decision. Then I''m just not gonna tell him anyth- "Greg." The blond teenager whipped around to face his friend, eyes wide from surprise. "H-hey, dude." The blond raised a hand in an uncertain wave toward the other boy on the edge of the hallway, Sparky''s expression flat as he stood there with his phone in hand. Of course, he''s still mad. Like I even did anything. Ugggghhh, let''s just do this. Thankful that he hadn''t said any of his thoughts out loud, Greg took a few steps forward, a forced smile on his face as he spoke up again. "So, first off, I feel like you''re mad at me and I don''t know for sure why." Sparky blinked. "A-anywaaaay, to fix that, I made a list of everything I did in my head and I''m going to try not to do any of them again. ''Kay?" After a moment, he paused to screw up his face in thought before correcting himself. "Well, maybe not the third person thing, though. Ya boi Greg is thinking that might be his new thing." A few seconds passed and a forced smile began to break, falling from strained and eager to nervous and unsure. All the while, Sparky refused to say anything back or even change the look on his face, his stare still unreadably blank as he remained in place where he was. Frick on a stick, what did I do to this guy? Greg whined to himself. With a nervous laugh, he began again. "Okay, no joke. Jokes are off the table. No prob. I''m just gonna say that¡­ like¡­ I know I might have said something we-" "I don''t care about that," Sparky finally interrupted, voice as tight as it was quiet. "Huh?" was his only reply. "This." Sparky raised his phone, allowing Greg to spot the familiar color scheme and mobile layout of the website everyone and their cousin knew as Parahumans Online. "I''m talking about this." The blond boy''s mouth opened slightly as he raised a finger, unsure exactly how to reply or exactly what all this was about. "... you''re mad about PHO?" Greg finally managed to reply, his voice oddly high as the last word left his mouth. "I mean, I do have some issues with their draconian moderation policy, so I can see why." "Don''t fuck with me, brah," Sparky held the phone screen up. "What the hell is this?" "The hell is what?" Greg let out an actual laugh despite not feeling much like it, hands raised in confusion. "I got good eyes, dude, but they''re not that good. I can''t see wh-" His words were interrupted once more, Sparky deciding to forgo conversation in favor of launching his smartphone at the other boy''s head with an annoyed grunt. Tantrum, much? With a mental sigh and a roll of his eyes, Greg Veder deftly caught the device with a single hand, the blond scooping it out of the air before it struck his face. Without missing a beat, he fixed his now-scowling friend with a raised eyebrow as his arm dropped back down to the side. "Really, dude?" "Look at the fucking phone," Sparky growled irritably. Letting out a slight sigh as he held eye contact, Greg decided to drop his smile. "Promise you''ll chill out if I do?" he offered, unable to help himself from trying to ease the tension. Instead of answering, Sparky simply crossed his arms over the smiley-face on his chest, the word ''Nirvana'' still visible in bright yellow lettering over his thin limbs. "Jeez man," the blond gave in, throwing up a hand in defeat. "I''ll look at the fucking phone." Not even wasting another moment with a sigh, Greg held the phone away from his face to stare at it. A half-second later¡­ "Huh."
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards. You are currently logged in, DJSparkPlug You are viewing: ? Threads you have replied to ? AND Threads that have new replies ? OR private message conversations with new replies ? Thread OP is displayed. ? Ten posts per page ? Last ten messages in private message history. ? Threads and private messages are ordered chronologically. Topic: HARDKOUR STAKES HIS CLAIM In: Boards ? Places ? America ? Brockton Bay Rakugaki (Original Poster) (Banned) Posted On May 12th 2011: Last month, Lung was beaten, Oni Lee was put in the hospital and Bakuda got what was coming to her. Three weeks ago, the Azn Bad Boys died as a gang. Two weeks ago, the Empire decided that meant they could do whatever they wanted to our people. Today, we are making it clear that none of that means our territory is up for grabs. Today, we are letting it be known that no one can attack us without retribution. Today, our new boss has a message for Kaiser and the Empire 88. Link: [VIDEO] (Showing page 1 of 1) ?Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member) Replied On May 12th 2011: WHAT THE FUCK? ? Tin Mother (Moderator) Replied On May 12th 2011: This post has been locked and the original poster banned. Using PHO''s public threads to facilitate criminal activities in any way is considered a breach of the terms of service. Here is a ban for your efforts, Rakugaki. End of Page. 1
Greg Veder blinked a pair of large blue eyes, raising his gaze back to his friend. "Huh." ANNOUNCEMENT II Hey, guys. A chapter is coming this Monday, 6.5k words, Chapter 6.10. No delays or anything. No need to worry. The schedule is on track. I have a backlog of chapters, those ready to post (albeit being beta-read) and those I''m still working on. In about five chapters, part 1 of arc 6 (Lag) will be over. Chapter 6.10 is currently up on Patreon and just went through a first round of Beta so the version I posted there is already 1.2k words behind and out of date. That old version is going to be updated in 2 hours on Patreon. The interlude following 6.10 is going to be up in a few hours as well. A 1k preview for 6.11 is up already and I''m almost done with that chapter, really. 6.12 is being worked on at the moment and the interlude following 6.12 has been posted as a rough draft/outline on Patreon already. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Part 1 of Arc 6 should end on 6.15 or an interlude in place of 6.15. Also, I posted a poll on Patreon regarding my writing path and uploading goals? Some people might want me to focus on Greg Vs only following the end of Arc 6. Others might prefer some Life Is But A Game. Even more others might want both. Anyway, that''s all I had to say. Thanks, guys. In the meantime, have some story art that hasn''t been posted anywhere yet. Lag 6.10 Lag 6.10 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 13, 2011 9:57 PM Axel Ramon remained still, eyes dry from a lack of blinking as a pair of bright blue eyes flicked upwards from the phone to lock on to him. Even over the sound of some villain actor projecting all the rage he could at whatever two-bit hero guest starring on Law & Order: PRT this week, Sparky could almost hear the overworked gears in the blond boy''s head grind together as those same eyes lit up in realization. Holding himself back from yelling was already a colossal effort, one that didn''t get a single bit easier as a blank smile spread across Greg Veder''s face. "Huh," the other teen repeated himself. Huh. Sparky repeated back in his own head. Huh, he says. This¡­ Greg tilted his head to the side, an odd look in his eyes as he remained smiling. This fucking guy. The living room sunk into an odd quiet, the blaring of the television oddly loud as neither of the two boys in the room said a word for the length of time it took some random snack food commercial to start and end. "Huh," Sparky echoed back, voice as derisive and mocking as he could manage in that single syllable before his tone returned to strained annoyance. "That it, brah? That''s all you can fuckin'' say?" Greg stepped forward, both of his hands raised again and Sparky shifted a little, almost taking a step back despite himself. "Okay, look, dude, before you say anything¡­" the blond began slowly, "I want you to know that I was planning to tell you, okay?" Before Sparky could say anything to that, Greg thrust one hand forward. "Wait," he continued quickly, "Look, I know I should have told you about this. Before you yell at me, I know." Sparky shook his head, spitting out a muttered curse in Spanish under his breath before he glanced back at his friend to say, "Do you? That something you really know?" "Yeah, I do, okay," Greg continued, taking another step forward. "And I know that it wasn''t the best idea, y''know. But¡­" "But what?" Greg shook his head. "... but it all just happened kinda quickly, I guess. I had the idea and I kinda just jumped into doing it. If there was any other way, I would have but¡­ I guess by the time I thought about it¡­ it was too late, you know?" What? Sparky''s lips tightened as his eyes remained firmly on a pair of bright blues. What the fuck is he even talking about? "To be fair, it was kinda dumb of me not to expect a van that probably had to explode after getting thrown into a building but," Greg snorted out loud, the sound petering into a small laugh after a second or two, "Okay, but I did put out the fire before it spread¡­" Greg cleared his throat, Sparky''s eye twitching as the blond continued to speak. "Well, before it spread too far. So, anyway, no one was hurt and property damage was minor¡­ except for the exploded building, but you know eggs, omelette, yadda yadda yadda." Sparky looked the other boy in the room up and down as he remained silent, unable to actually find the words to convey the growing heat in his chest that felt like some type of rage. To make matters worse, the blood pounding in his head only served to make him intensely aware of the imminent headache creeping up on him. Is this a joke? Sparky thought to himself, a bare hand pressed up against the wall of the hallway to provide him some needed stability. Is every fucking thing a joke with him? It definitely sounded like a joke. Honestly, it did. Everything Greg said since all this started sounded like he was trying to be funny and usually, Sparky laughed along because it kinda was. Most of the time, it was nothing important, nothing too crazy and it was pointless to rock the boat too much. So, he let it slide, like a good friend should. But this¡­ This. This wasn''t a fucking joke anymore. It hadn''t been for a while now and it hadn''t taken Sparky all that long to get how serious it was. It was time for Greg to understand it too. "This isn''t a fucking joke, Greg," he finally said out loud in a half-whisper. Voice strained and taut with tension, Sparky clenched his hands at his sides and finally took a step forward. "None of this is a fucking joke." "Sparks¡­" "You think this is just about throwing a van into a building?" Sparky assumed slowly. "I mean¡­" "Th-that is literally the last fucking thing I care about right now, brah." "Okay," Greg scoffed in reply. "Last? Let''s not exaggerate here, c''mon. Dude, I threw a frickin'' van. Do you know how big that is? Literally, vans are kinda heavy." "Shut up," Sparky hissed. "Shut up. Shut up. ShutUp-ShutUp-Shut-Up-Shut-Up-Shut Up!" With every single hiss of a syllable, the angry teenager took a single step forward, propelled by nothing more than outright annoyance and a growing feeling of exasperated rage. Standing in front of Greg with barely a foot of distance separating the both of them, Sparky jabbed a finger in his face and let out another hissed sentence. "Why the fuck does the ABB think you''re in charge of them?" Greg rolled his eyes, waving one hand as he took a step back from his pissed-off friend. "Oh, that," he replied dismissively. "Huh, well, that''s really not a big deal." Is he ser¡­ Sparky felt his eye twitch. "I swear to every fucking god there is, you better not fucking act like this is not serious shit, you absolute tard." "First, harsh. Second, chill," Greg deadpanned in reply, only for Sparky to let out an annoyed whistle of air. Palms up defensively, the blond continued with, "I didn''t say it wasn''t serious, dude. I just said ''really not a big deal'', y''know?" Axel took in a quick breath, eyes flicking around the room as he tried to prevent himself from actually raising his voice. "No," Sparky bit back, turning his eyes back to Greg. "No, I don''t know. Just answer the fuckin'' question, brah." "Fine," Greg said, lowering his palms. Sparky cleared his throat, the teenager closing his eyes and swallowing a mouthful of spit before he asked the important question once more. "So, you run the ABB now?" "They''re not the ABB anymore." Amber eyes snapped open, directing a heated gaze at Greg once more as anger flared in his chest. "I don''t fucking care what they call themselves. You''re telling me that you''re the one in charge of those shithead low-lifes?" Sparky''s eyes tracked Greg as the blond gave him a slight smile with perfect white teeth. A single hand rose to his chin before he finally spoke up again. "Dude, it''s different. They''re not criminals anymore." WHAT? "Are.. are you joking?" Hands tightening into actual fists, Sparky began to advance on Greg once more as he did his best to make his point as slowly and carefully as possible. "They are literal goddamn terrorists, brah." "That was before, Sparky," Greg replied back to him with a roll of his eyes. "I literally took care of all that, anyway. ''Sides, they''re under new management now." "YOU!" Sparky shouted out loud, unable to help himself. Greg simply grinned back, a sight that made his friend feel like smashing his face in. "Exactly." Sparky twitched despite himself and looked away to stare at the wall, blinking rapidly as he tried not to scream in outright frustration. After a few seconds, he turned back to throw a dark look at Greg''s grinning face, the blond looking entirely too happy with himself. "I get it, actually," Greg told him before he could say a single word. "Why you were so mad before? I see it now, you know, and yeah, I get it. It''s a lot but¡­ I''m doing some real good here, Sparky." "Good?" he whispered back. "What good?" "Well, for one, I''m stopping the old ABB ¡ª still don''t really have a good name for them, by the way, and I was gonna workshop that with you later if you''re down ¡ª from being evil and whatever," Greg began again, counting off his fingers. "For two, I''m saving Brockton Bay''s Asian community from civil war by uniting them¡­ under me, of course. Do you have any idea how close the city was to another gang war? Japanese vs Chinese vs Koreans, for starters," he explained slowly as Sparky continued to frown at him. "For three, not just keeping them from killing each other, I''m keeping the Empire from killing them." After a moment, he laughed a bit, adding, "Also, kicking Nazis in the teeth but that''s more a side-benefit than anything else, y''know?" Arms spread out to his sides, Greg''s grin widened. "Other heroes would just beat the bad guy and go home but they''re not big thinkers like me, okay," Greg emphasized as he tapped his temple with a single finger. "I knew there''d be a power vacuum with Lung and Bakuda gone so I stepped in to keep things copacetic. I even had a plan before I took care of them to make sure the ABB weren''t gonna just find a new cape and come back angrier," the blond added with yet another laugh that only served to irritate the other teenager more. "If anything, people should be thanking me. I did the city a favor by dealing with this before it turned into a huge mess." Sparky took in everything Greg said with only another twitch of his left eye and a single sigh to show for it. I don''t¡­ I can''t do this anymore. He thinks this is a fucking game because¡­ of course it is to him. I honestly¡­ I can''t. "... you''re a gang lord," were the only words Sparky eventually found. "Technically, yeah," Greg replied nonchalantly. "No, not technically," Sparky retorted, still angry but oddly tired at the same time. "Literally. You lord over a gang, making you a gang lord." "Well¡­" "Like, I was gonna not say anything about this because you know it was over and done with and I knew you were dealing a lot cause of your mom," Sparky gestured upstairs to where the woman in question was fast asleep, "but you and I know both know you killed a fuckin'' load of people last month." Sparky didn''t miss the way Greg''s eyes drifted to the side, his expression looking oddly sheepish. "Yeah, sure, fuck whatever, they''re ABB but you can''t honestly tell me you that you think it''s okay that you did what you did, right?" "Sparks¡­" "No, brah, you''re a killer bossing around other killers and all of this¡­ what? You''re fifteen. This isn''t your job. All of this is just a fun fuckin'' time to you?" Sparky barked, a rant building up inside him along with his anger. "You think you can just stand there and tell me you''re doing good when you killed a ton of people and you''re proud of being a gang lord and you think you''re gonna justify that shit by talking about some fuckin'' responsibility?" Sparky scowled, baring his teeth with the last word as he spit it out. "Justify it? Justify what?" Greg asked back, head tilted to the side as he seemingly ignored all his friend''s vitriol to question a single word. Sparky froze long enough to process Greg''s response. "W-what? Justify the things you did? You killed like two dozen people at least." "Why would I do that?" the blond almost seemed to laugh as he replied with a question. What. Sparky felt his eye twitch again, blood pounding in his head so hard he felt like something in it was due to explode any moment. "You killed people and you don''t care?" The pounding sensation in his head almost seemed to double as Greg gave him a look that seemed almost pitying in it''s patience, something like the expression a teacher might give a slow student. "They were bad guys, terrorists, rapists too¡­ I''m not saying I did anything great, y''know. I didn''t even mean to do it like half the time¡­" "That doesn''t make it better," Sparky cut in. "But," Greg barrelled on without even acknowledging the interruption, "why do I have to justify the fact that they died?" "Because you''re the reason!" Sparky shouted, throwing his hands in Greg''s direction. "You. Killed. Them. You went crazy, like a fuckin'' monster. Don''t act like half the city didn''t see you fighting Oni Lee! All the damage you''ve done, with Lung too? Maybe it''s time to hang up the fucking cape already, brah!" "You think I went overboard? Me?" Greg snorted, a sneer of an expression on his face. "What, you saw one fight where I was half-dead from getting caught in an Oni Lee hit-and-run, pretty much on an empty tank of gas and not all there and you just figured that was how I was the whole time?" Greg shook his head before glancing back at Sparky. "I get that you think that I lost it, okay. But I went out of my way to not hurt people." "Bullshit," Sparky muttered. "Sure, I was angry," Greg went on acting like he didn''t hear it, but the distinct frown on his face told Sparky he did, "but that doesn''t mean a thing. I controlled myself the best I could last month. Hell, I even talked to them. I was the goddamn Mr. Rogers of Superheroes, dude. I offered a bunch of the ABB chances to give up and work with me. Some of them did. Most of them didn''t. Even then, most of most of those didn''t even end up in the hospital. A bunch did, sure, but that''s how it goes." Sparky pulled a face, returning Greg''s sneer. "That''s how it goes? "Yes. When they have guns and knives and numbers and they want to kill me and terrorize the whole city and act like terrorists, that is exactly how it goes." Greg shook his head in exasperation, throwing his hands up at Sparky''s seeming unwillingness to let this go. "I let people run, Sparky. I talked to a bunch of them. I even paid some off. I was pissed, like extremely, but you know what?," Greg sat down on the couch''s armrest, eyes firmly meeting Sparky''s without any sign of turning away. "I had to do what I did because someone had to. In fact, I was positively level-headed through most of that week. The chill that I displayed, considering the situation, Legendary, okay. I''m surprised at how calm I was, no joke. I could have done a lot worse¡­ but I didn''t. And I feel like you''re giving me shit for keeping my cool." Sparky scoffed at him, brushing some hair out of his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest again. "I''m not giving you shit for ''keeping your cool''. I''m giving you shit for somehow not getting my point. I don''t care that those fuckers died." He scoffed again. "You honestly think I give a shit about some gang members biting it?" "Then wha-" "You think I''d be bitching if some rando were the one who did this, brah?" Sparky let out a laugh that had no humor in it, a strand of hair falling back into his face as his shoulders shook. "Nah, I''d say good riddance and go about my fucking day, and be happy that there was less shit on the streets." With the last word, his expression dipped back to a grimace. "No, Greg, you fucking tard," Sparky bit out angrily, "I''m mad that you''re the one who did it. I''m pissed that you''re fucking letting this shit take over you. You''re turning¡­ The things you''re doing¡­ You¡­ Y-" Sparky stumbled on every single word, each one a struggle as he tried to properly phrase what he wanted to say but lost track of the words every single time. After several seconds too many, the teenager let out a frustrated groan and decided to go with just two words. "You''re changing." "I''m not changing," Greg laughed back. "You''re a gang lord now!" Sparky growled. "The fuck do you mean you''re not changing?" "I''m still me," his blond friend replied, not really explaining anything as he suddenly glanced up and stared into space with oddly vacant eyes. "I''m just¡­ Hmm. I''m just doing more things." The non-reply gave Sparky pause, the teenager taking a few moments to think as he stared at his friend glancing up for whatever reason. Probably a fucking quest. Another one. Those fucking things are controlling him. He shook his head, thoughts racing as he tried to figure out what to say next, anything that would make Greg actually listen. Wait¡­ A pair of amber eyes blinked as Greg continued to stare into space, blue eyes flicking from side to side showing that the other boy was clearly reading something. That''s it! Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "Greg¡­" The blond glanced back down. "Eh?" Sparky bit his lip, thoughts barely composed as he tried to put what he knew to work. "Brah, let me put this in a way you''ll understand." "...okay?" Fuck. Sparky took in a quick breath before he opened his mouth. Here we go. "You''re jumping from quest chain to quest chain, pissing off every faction as you go. First, it was the Merchants, then it was the PRT, then the ABB, and now it''s the Empire. You''re not thinking of the meta, brah, just playing like a noob." "...what?" What the fuck am I saying? Despite hating himself, Sparky continued speaking. "Even worse, posting crap like that and taking over the ABB is probably a big hit to your reputation bar? Your karma meter too¡­ I guess." He winced at that last phrase, unsure if those were the same thing. "Like, what if you need a quest from the Protectorate to break the level cap, but you can''t ''cause they''re all aggroed?" Greg simply stared.. "¡­" The other teenager winced slightly, already regretting his words. "Y''know?" Blue eyes blinked in confusion as Greg leaned forward slightly. "...Sparky, what the fuck are you talking about?" Yeah, that went in one ear and out the other. "I¡­ I¡­ I guess I don''t know how your game thing wor-fuck. You know what, I don''t even fucking know anymore..." Sighing again, Sparky let himself trail off, his mouth moving silently for several awkward seconds before he spoke up again. "Just¡­ brah, you could just stop¡­ You know that, right? "Stop what?" "This." He waved a hand in Greg''s direction. "Y''know. This." The blond raised an eyebrow. "You just gestured to all of me." "Yeah," Sparky replied tiredly. "I did." The other eyebrow joined the first. "I don''t know wh-" "Don''t gimme that shit, brah," Sparky cut in again with another hiss. "Yes, you fucking do! Don''t you dare gimme that shit, Veder! You could stop right the fuck now and never look back. No more violence, no more crazy damage, no more killing, no more¡­" His voice trailed away as he took in several much-needed gulps of air. "What?" Sparky raised his head, blinking in surprise as Greg had somehow stood up and closed the distance between them in seemingly no time, the blond''s hand now on his shoulder. "No more what, Sparks?" He took one more deep breath before staring back at Greg again with a firm look. "No more superhero shit. You could just stop and that''d be it." Greg glanced away, clearly thinking about it. That was almost enough to give Sparky hope. Almost. "¡­ I could. Yeah," the blond finally answered, giving his friend an oddly resigned expression. "But you won''t," Sparky finished for him. Greg let out a shallow laugh. "I would never give it up." "But why?" Sparky almost found himself begging with those two words, voice wavering. "You got powers, sure. You could enjoy the fuck out of those without ever getting involved in this BS anymore. Lung is done. The ABB is fucking dead. You removed a girl''s legs, Greg!" "C''mon, she wasn''t just a girl, Sp-" Sparky shook his hands violently, pulling away from Greg''s grip on his shoulder with a great deal of effort as he glared back at the idiot. "Yeah, She was a lot of things, I know, but you don''t have to do any of that shit anymore. The city is fine. You got your mom back. Why won''t you stop?" "¡­The city needs me." The long-haired boy froze for a second, confusion warping his expression before it quickly melted back into a frown. "No, it fucking doesn''t, Batman. Give me the real fucking reason." "..." Greg turned his head aside as he muttered. "...what?" "Christ." With a long sigh, Greg turned back, the blond looking almost as tired as Sparky did as he began to speak again. "I said, it makes me feel good. It feels like winning, okay?" "What does¡­" Sparky found himself asking, despite a part of him not really wanting to know the answer. "Which part?" "All of it, I guess." Fuck. "It''s just¡­" Greg continued on, "I was never gonna be anyone, Sparks. No one cared about me. No one looked at me. At school, I''m just ''that annoying kid who doesn''t shut up.'' People online only know me as ''that annoying troll who won''t shut up.'' The girl I crushed on barely even said five sentences to me and I said like five thousand to her these past couple years. Half the time, I think my mom only likes me because I''m all she has left of my dad. "I have two friends, this one girl online that''s probably a fat dude my mom''s age in Canada and you," the blond let out a bitter laugh, palms by his head as words rushed out of his mouth in a torrent, "and let''s face it, you¡­ You were cooler than me. Your dad didn''t move a thousand miles to get away from you. You''re in a band. You could hang out with anyone in school and they''d be okay with it. Like, the only reason you were friends with me is because I made you laugh one time last year during lunch. You have other people you hang out with and you''re all chill and happy and people like you, y''know?" Greg laughed again, the sound a bitter one. "But me? My ''friends''? Just you. You''re it. You''re all I had. Somehow, I was too much of a weirdo for anyone to even wanna be around and that doesn''t even make sense. All I did was smile and try to talk to people. Things sucked, okay Sparky? Yeah, my home life was easier than most Winslow kids, sure, I had more money and stuff, but I didn''t have anything other than games and my mom and you. But now? "Now I have¡­ everything," Greg seemed to hum the word, canines oddly large as he flashed Sparky a grin. "It''s more than I ever had before and y''know what? I''m doing real good here. So, cut me some frickin'' slack just cause I don''t wanna go back to being a normal nebbish noob." Greg stood front-and-center in the middle of his living room, staring down Sparky as he continued speaking. "Look, I''m not gonna let it go¡­ not gonna give up just cause it makes you feel icky, okay. And yeah, I''m changing. It''s called growing up." "No, it''s n-" Sparky attempted to interject. "Yes. It is." Greg didn''t let him. "I''m a fucking superhero and I don''t care what I have to do. I save lives, I help people, I fix things. I''m the good guy here." Wow. Wow. Axel Ramon could only blink. Fucking wow. Sparky found himself at a loss for words for a moment as he took everything in, every single bit of Greg''s rushed confession hitting him with almost physical force. I tried to help you out. I stuck up for you. I did everything I could for you and now you wanna dive off the deep end like this? After far too long, he stared Greg in the eye and said the only thing he could. "You know you sound exactly like a fuckin'' supervillain, right?" Axel glanced back at his unfamiliar friend, Greg standing there with his eyes closed and mouth in a thin line, the blond almost frozen in place. "What? No comeback for that one?" After what seemed like a minute but was most likely a few very long seconds, Greg opened his eyes again and flashed Sparky a bright grin that rang as unnatural in the boy''s eyes. For what reason though, he was unsure. "Nah, no comeback. Just waiting for you to stop acting like my Mom." "...Motherf-" Sparky bit back a curse, the word dying down to a strangled choking noise. Unable to help himself, Sparky clenched his fists and shot back, "Yeah, I''m your mom right now. For real, brah, I''m your mom because I''m telling you that posting a video of yourself blowing up a building with a van missile is fucking dumb. I''m your mom because I''m letting you know that taking over a fucking gang isn''t just a slippery slope, it''s a fucking avalanche. I''m your Mom because I cover for your ass and try to keep you from fucking up royally." "Just saying, a friend would support me," Greg replied in a tone that Sparky could almost call petulant, if it weren''t for the oddly serious look on the other teen''s face. "Sorry, not sorry." Fuck it. Sparky scoffed, the teenager throwing his hands up in the air as he walked toward and then past Greg, walking directly towards the door. "You know," he began again, not even turning around to face the only other person in the room. "I know you, brah. Like, real fuckin'' well, I think. I''m just giving you a heads up ''cause you got no idea what you''re doing and you¡­" Sparky scoffed again, the sound almost becoming a laugh. "You''re just gonna royally fuck up everything. Not just for you, not just for me, but for everyone around you." "Yeah, I bet you think that," Greg spun around to stare at him as he walked away, Sparky fighting a wince as his eyes seemed to flash in anger. "You''re just Sparky Smarty-Pants. Fun fact, genius, you wouldn''t know anything about me if I didn''t let you know and y''know what?" The blond tapped his chin, a fake smile on his face as he added on, "I think I kinda regret doing that." Somehow, that was the straw that broke the camel''s back, the camel being Sparky and the back being his patience. He moved without meaning too, already in motion as blind rage and uninhibited frustration propelled him forward. An arm swung out, balled fist on a beeline directly towards the blond''s grinning face before he could stop himself. In a blur of motion, Sparky found himself blinking as his fist was seemingly brushed aside before it could land and he found himself pulled forward before he could stop himself. What the f- He blinked again as he realized a pair of surprisingly sturdy arms were wrapped around his back, his arms flat by his sides. "We can let this go," a voice muttered in his ear, almost begging by the sound of it. "I''ll say sorry. We forget about this and just pig out on orange chicken and watch some anime with random elf boobs or whatever. What do you say, man? C''mon," the blond punctuated the word with a squeeze. "Please." It said something to Sparky that part of him wanted to give in, to just listen to the siren song that was his friend''s pleading request. That same part was also doing it''s best to pound into him how stupid what he had just tried was, something that likely would have ended in a broken hand simply resulted in an embrace that was at worst emasculating. Unfortunately, he was too angry to be in a forgiving mood. "Fuck You," he hissed back into Greg''s ear. An angry grunt accompanied the last syllable as the angry teenager did his best to shove his friend away. It didn''t really amount to much, Sparky realized almost immediately, the force of his push likely the equivalent to a light breeze to the other boy. His guess was confirmed almost immediately as the superpowered blond slowly and carefully let his arms relax, following the action by purposefully stepping back and away from his friend. It didn''t help Sparky''s mood that Greg seemed to wear a look of what seemed like disappointment on his face the entire time as he stared back at the furious teenager. Sparky''s eyes narrowed as Greg Veder continued to stare at him, the teen holding back several curses as he stumbled away and angrily grabbed his backpack from the wall where it sat. A hand thrust itself into his backpack, quickly retrieving a white long-sleeve and a black-and-yellow hoodie. Without wasting time, he put both of them on before shooting Greg another dark glare on his way to the front door. "Trust me, you''re gonna feel really stupid about this one day, Veder." "You know what I feel?" Greg bit back, disappointed expression fading away as it was replaced by an oddly smug smile. "I feel motivated, Axel." "...I''m gonna regret asking but¡­" the teen stopped by the door, grabbing up his skateboard and helmet as he stepped into his low-top sneakers, "what the hell could possibly be your motivation at this point, you blond fucking asshole?" Please. Make it worse somehow, I dare you. "Heh." Greg flashed him another too-sharp grin. "I''ll tell you later when you''re in a better mood." "Whatever," Sparky swung open the door and marched out of the Veder house, skateboard and helmet under one arm. He was tired of this, far too tired to deal with whatever Greg was sperging about and not interested in helping someone who had no intention of accepting his help. "I''m going home." With a single hand on the fence as he attempted to close the wooden gate back, the irritated teenager glanced back to see Greg as he stood there watching him from the open doorway. A sigh left him as Sparky closed "Hey, Sparky!" Cruiser skateboard under his foot and helmet already secured firmly on his head, Sparky rolled his eyes and answered back with a terse and unfriendly "What?" "Don''t leave, dude. It''s Friday the 13th. Mad spooky hours," Greg added with a laugh that only sounded patronizing to Sparky''s ears, if not outright mocking. "If you wanna go that bad, gimme a minute and I''ll walk you home." Sparky frowned back at the other boy, wondering what he ever saw in him. In lieu of words, he answered back with a single finger. A half-second later, Sparky kicked off the ground, speeding down the suburban streets with both feet on his board. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C "Alright, see ya Monday!" Greg waved goodbye at Sparky''s figure as he sped away on his skateboard, a mix of conflicting emotions in his head despite the fake smile plastered firmly on his face. He stood there in silence, staring long after Sparky had vanished into the distance even with his [Darkvision] preventing shadows or low light from hiding anything from him. Finally, after what must have been well over five minutes of pointless staring, the blond at the door let out a long sigh. This wasn''t at all how he expected this night to go, not in the slightest. Hours of chill fun ruined in fifteen minutes. He shook his head as he remained standing at the doorway, pushing the worst thoughts to the back of his mind. He wants answers and he freaks out on me and calls me names when I give them to him. Just like Mom¡­ I give people what they want. I try, at least, you know. I''m not saying I know everything but what''s so wrong with doing things to keep you safe? I''m somehow the bad guy for that, he ranted to himself, fingers clenched tightly into his palms as he stared off at nothing. Mouth in an open grimace, his teeth seemed to sharpen somewhat, visibly lengthening as he continued to rage to himself. Think, Sparky! When are the ABB gonna attack anyone or hurt anyone or do anything bad to people when I''m there? I literally stopped half the crime in the city. ME! Greg Veder closed his eyes and let out a long sigh into the night, breath coming out in a literal cloud of steam. By the time he opened his eyes, the plume had vanished and his tensions seemed to have eased, Greg allowing the subtle flow of [Gamer''s Mind] to work it''s magic on him. Within moments, the blond''s sharp grimace was once more a relaxed grin as his mood returned to a calm, almost surprisingly happy equilibrium. All thoughts of blowing up a neighbor''s car with an errant fireball now back in the part of his mind that considered it a funny idea rather than an immediate consideration for stress release. With a dramatic shake of his head, the blond threw his hands up in the air. "This is why I keep secrets y''know," he muttered to no one in particular. "People just don''t know how to handle them." Blue eyes flicked up again. "But back to important things¡­"
Your territory is under attack: Okinawa Heights Your territory is under attack: Little China Your territory is under attack: Osaka Plaza
Quest Gained! Objectives Rewards: 50000 XP, $50000, + 2 Stat Point
It had been hanging there for a while, just before Sparky had decided to storm out. Greg had done his best to ignore it, hard as that was, as he focused on his friend and whatever argument they had been having. Not much of an argument. He''s just not listening to me, Greg shot back in his own head. What am I doing? We''ll talk tomorrow and work it out or whate- His thoughts were interrupted as Greg glanced down at the pocket of his jeans, specifically the vibrating object inside his pocket. Really beginning to wonder what I pay these guys for, honestly. Pulling the smaller, less-expensive phone from his pants, Greg glanced back into the house with narrowed eyes before he closed the door behind him, flipped open the burner and raised it to his face. "What''s the issue, Seo?" he answered, getting right to the point. "Boss, we got a situation! We go-" "Empire shooting again?" he interjected. "I''m already on it." Greg was halfway through closing the device when Seo''s voice nearly screamed out from the phone''s tinny speakers, faint gunfire just audible from a distance even as he shouted. "Nonono! Boss, you don''t understand! They''re not just shooting! They''re breaking in and snatching up kids, not even the gang. Just a lot of the Winslow kids!" Pip. Pip.
Your territory is under attack: Taipei Town
Quest Changed! Save The Children Objectives Rewards: 10000 XP, $10000, + 4 Stat Point
A pair of blue eyes widened. "Fuck." Greg jumped upwards, easily clearing two stories with a tight backflip and landed firmly on the roof of his house with only a slight thump for all his weight. "I''m on my way," he spoke into the burner before quickly closing the device and returning it to his pocket. "[Transform: Hardkour]." As he stood up to his full height, a flash of blue light and wind obscured Greg''s body, fading a moment later to reveal him fully costumed in black leather gear, a long scarlet scarf and a ruby red full-face helm exposing only his hair. "Yeah, I''m pretty fucking motivated." With a flex of his legs, Hardkour burst off into the night sky. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Six Miles From Greg Veder''s House 10:37 PM My head hurts. That was the first thought that flitted through Sparky''s head as he blinked his way back into painful consciousness. His vision was bleary, not at all helped by the darkness that seemingly surrounded him. His body seemed to shake and shudder, bouncing painfully on the hard surface that he found himself laying on, his throbbing face pressed up against cold metal. What¡­ He blinked again, the action seeming to hurt as he began to recognize the feeling of a bruise forming on the side of his face. What happened? He blinked again, trying to ignore the pain. I¡­ Greg. I had a fight¡­ me and him, right? Noise pounded into his skull as he bounced harshly once more, making it even harder for him to get his bearings as he tried to focus his brain enough to form a sentence. He was acting¡­ acting crazy and I¡­ left? Something¡­ Yeah, that''s it? He blinked again, more events coming back to him. I left. I was on my skateboard and then¡­Sparky let out an audible groan, suddenly realizing something was stuck in his mouth preventing him from speaking. Pain. Both in his memories and the present. Then, something hit him hard. Harder than he had ever been hit before, sending him off his skateboard and into blackness. Now, someone had pressed a foot against his face, painfully grinding the sole of a boot against his already bruised cheek. "Wake the fuck up! This ain''t naptime!" Sparky bolted up, trying to move ¡ª why can''t I ¡ª as the sound of someone yelling jolted him back into full consciousness. The voice made his gaze snap upwards, everything in the sound of it sending warning sirens through his already protesting skull. The teenager regretted it almost immediately, his eyes locking for a split-second with those of a grown man with a series of scars on his bald head grinning down at him with promises of pain. What the fuck? Sparky made to turn his face away, only to let out another vocal protest of pain as his head was yanked upwards by his hair, the teenager forced to his knees as his scalp screamed in pain. "So, you the special guest, huh?" A gruff voice barked out, Sparky meeting the beady eyes of a flat-faced biker-looking man with breath like a sewage pipe. "Now, what makes you so fuckin'' special?" Sparky tried to fight, instinct begging him to escape, only for him to realize¡­ My hands¡­ They were tied. Literally. His legs, not so much. While that was a relief, albeit not much of one, it took Sparky only a few seconds to come to the realization that he wasn''t alone with the man. And yet that did nothing to calm him down. Not too far from him were at least six other teenagers, bound like him, but also gagged and entirely conscious, their eyes screaming fear. Panicked eyes flicked over to the noise by his side, the noise of a van door opening as two other grown men hopped into the vehicle, their shaved heads and tattoos cluing him on who he was stuck with. The final man to enter the van was what could only be described as an older version of a bully that Sparky had grown familiar with, having been around Greg for a long while. The man hopped into the van with a grunt, brushing some imaginary dust off his leather jacket with similarly gloved hands, and closed the door behind him. As he found his footing, he quickly demanded the van driver to get moving with a sharp whistle and a shout of those same words. Almost immediately after, a pair of red-rimmed pinpoint eyes scanned the van before they finally locked on to him, ignoring everyone else almost completely. "There''s our special little boy," the man said with a smile that promised nothing good. Special? What? Even in the dark of the van, the man laughed like he could see the confusion in his eyes, the other men in the van chuckling along slowly in a way that rang with the fact that they didn''t actually know what was funny. "Yeah, you''re really special, a nice little present for a good little boy. You know, I had to change a lot of my plans just to snatch you up," the man said as he squatted down, somehow not falling over as the van continued to move, "but don''t you worry. I''m sure you''re worth it." A pair of heavy gloved hands gripped his chin and Sparky found himself being hauled up painfully, meeting eyes with the older Malcolm Duncan look-alike. "You don''t know me, kid, but I''m gonna tell you a little secret. This is not gonna be the best night of your life, I can promise you that." Cutscene: Taken I Cutscene: Taken I ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The van bucked, axles of the vehicle bouncing as it hit yet another pockmark in the asphalt without slowing down. The world spun again for Axel Ramon as he slammed against the floor of the van again, his muffled mouth letting out an unwanted groan. Another jolt rocked the van as the driver made a swift turn, doing nothing to ease Sparky''s pain as his skull bounced off the hard surface without care. The noise of the engine didn''t make matters easier for him either, the sheer din only outdone by the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. The bruise on the side of his head throbbed with the pain of the first blow he never saw coming, blinding headache mixing with flashes in his vision as he let out another unintentional cry. Even in his state, Sparky didn''t fail to notice that he wasn''t the only one making noise. In fact, he was far from alone in many ways, several other muffled voices almost synchronizing with him in a symphony of discomfort. A short second later, their noises were followed by the sounds of annoyed cursing, this time from the irritated - angered - voices of their grown captors. Along with growls to "shut the fuck up", several kicks landed home on the bodies of at least three or four others, the resulting additional groans making that much clear. Wincing in expectation of his own, Sparky tensed his body, doing his best to curl in on himself as he waited for his own stomping. And yet¡­ The van ride continued on like that, the teenager blinking in confusion almost half a minute later as he realized he hadn''t been punished for making noise. Huh. Surprised as he was, Sparky didn''t exactly find himself in anything approaching a better mood. Bound, gagged and on the floor surrounded by Neo-Nazis, there were only so many possible ways this was gonna end. And none of them looked happy. At least, not for him. ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C? It was amazing how time seemed to slow to a crawl when you were terrified for your life. The word ''amazing'' might not exactly be accurate, but Sparky wasn''t exactly in a position to look up any synonyms that better fit his situation. In fact, he wasn''t in a position to do much other than scream past his gag and writhe on the floor of the van like a particularly overgrown caterpillar, both his hands and legs tied up the way they were. Not that he would do either of those. Drawing any more attention to himself would definitely not make things any better than they already were. Even though things getting worse was almost guaranteed, Sparky didn''t think that making things worse faster would do anything to help. Even still, anything happening faster would almost be an improvement, even if it came with a healthy helping of pain. Don''t- Sparky shuddered at what would come along with the pain, fear jumping up again in his chest as his heart once again resumed the pace of a rabbit. Don''t think about it. Just¡­ Just what, he asked himself. Just¡­ Frantic eyes darted back and forth across the dark insides of the vehicle, vaguely lit up by flickers of street lights as the van darted past them. Just pull it together. It took a while for his breathing to shift from it''s ragged pace to something slower, Sparky''s nostrils flaring as he tried his best to return to something approaching a level of calm, but he managed it¡­ somehow. Still, whether it was due to fear or anxiety or just a simple concussion, the ride felt like it was taking hours upon hours and attempting to keep track of how long it had been was pretty much a no-go. Honestly, each slight bump on the road rattled his head against the hard metal and every slight turn sent him sliding several inches back and forth; both making it impossible to somehow try and keep time. Even trying to get an idea for where they were headed was a failed start by itself, the van windows covered with cloth preventing almost any light from getting in and keeping everyone in the back in the dark, both literally and figuratively. Holy fucking shit, this is¡­ Sparky mentally shook himself before that thought could continue. He knew what the Empire did, yeah. Almost everyone in Brockton Bay and honestly, a lot of people outside it knew at some level too; how could he not? Beating up minorities was along the lines of what people expected from the Empire, at least the basic racist thugs that made up 99% of the gang, given what they were. Robbing anyone who was non-white after leaving them half-dead was pretty much a guarantee, because why the fuck not, right? Obviously, they weren''t exactly gonna get rich out of random and disconnected muggings, but if you were the type to beat up somebody over their skin color or religion, then you probably were pretty happy to snatch an extra twenty bucks from their wallet after cracking their skull op- ...Fuck. The image of his own skull leaking blood and gray matter on the sidewalk jarred Sparky''s mind, sending another shudder through his body that had nothing to do with the driver''s reckless behavior. Why did I leave his fucking house? Fuck. Part of him blamed himself. What the fuck was he thinking when he did this? All this ''cause I was pissed? Running out into Brockton Bay at night? Like I''m fucking invincible? His own self-loathing hung at his thoughts, his own mood cratering even further as he tried not to think of how none of this would have happened if he just accepted Greg''s offer. Yeah, he offered to walk me home. and I flipped him off. Fuck me. Not smart, he knew. There''s being pissed and there''s being retarded, he hissed at himself. And then there was being fucking suicidal. Being pissed off at his friend to even worry about anything like the Empire felt like the third right now. It didn''t even make sense, though. Why me? Why today? This isn''t even their turf! The questions bounced around in his head as the ride continued on in relative silence, the thought of retribution doing it''s job at keeping the other kids in the car quiet no matter how uncomfortable they felt. To Sparky, every second spent in the darkness of the van, surrounded by fearful teenagers and fearsome gang members, felt like five at the very least. If it wasn''t for the fact that he didn''t feel some sudden reserve of power in his body, he might even have assumed he had triggered with the power to control his perception of time. He''d give anything to be that lucky right about now. Unfortunately, he was just as powerless as ever, the fear he felt making time move at a seeming crawl while his heart did the opposite and pounded at a rabbit''s pace. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. That was why he could only react with surprise, albeit completely silently, when the van finally came to a sudden jerky stop. What? Fear surged in his chest a moment later, surprise shoved to the back of his mind, as his mind connected the dots. Stopping isn''t good. It really wasn''t. Stopping meant that whatever they were gonna do with them was about to happen. A rough hand grabbed Sparky by one of his arms while the remaining calloused palm took hold of his hair again. Oh n- The Nazi wasn''t gentle. If anything, the bastard made sure to be the exact opposite of whatever his single brain cell thought was anything close to gentle. Not that Sparky had expected anything less, but still¡­ Fuckfuckfuckfu- The teenager couldn''t help but scream, both in his mind and past his gag, as he was harshly dragged out of the van without even a moment''s warning barely a second after the door slid open. Sparky let out another noise as he was pulled out and to the ground, shoulder protesting and wind knocked out of him by the short fall. Trying to catch his breath, he blinked up at the meathead that had stepped out of the van with all the care the man didn''t bother showing to him, only for those eyes to widen as the man''s hands reached out for him again. "Nnnggh!" A fistful of his hair once again found itself in the man''s hands and Sparky could only release a muffled scream in protest once more, his body thrashing violently as he was pulled back up onto his feet. The first thing he saw was an abandoned tenement, the fading, patchworked, broken building taking up almost all his fading vision. Almost every window he could make out in the dark of the night was shattered, some from the inside and some from the outside, those probably the fault of random kids throwing shit at buildings no one cared about. What the fuck now? A hand at his back pushed him forward, and Sparky stumbled forward toward the building he was obviously being directed to enter. He cast a glance over his shoulder as more noise caught his attention, the other teenagers in the van being pulled out with just as much care he received. Fuck, was all he could think as he glanced at his surroundings. An abandoned building in a derelict part of town, barely any lights still working up and down the street, and all in an area with little witnesses. ¡­huh. Sparky stared blankly forward as he was pushed from behind again, the hand at his back accompanied by a muttered grunt. He glanced at his side, some Asian kid staring back at him with a look that just seemed to define hopelessness. Behind them both, the last of the Empire kidnappers stepped out, dragging the last kidnapped kid with him. "This is the last of them," the familiar looking man in the leather jacket barked at the driver through the passenger-side window. "Dump the van with the rest." With a noise of agreement, the white van pulled away, quickly heading off down the dark streets. Last of them? That didn''t sound good at all. The teenager took in a breath through his nose, attempting to calm himself down as much as he could. Fuck. Once more, the thought of making a run for it made itself known in Sparky''s thoughts, but he didn''t even bother attempting to entertain the idea. He was already beat up and his hands were tied; outrunning several grown men was basically a fantasy at this point. The entrance to the abandoned tenement creaked open as he neared the steps to the building, him at the front of a small crowd of teenagers walking to what he could only assume was a death sentence. As if to confirm his thoughts, several blond and pale faces ¡ª oddly young ones, too ¡ª glanced out of the opened door, Sparky''s mood falling even further, if such a thing was even possible. This is¡­ He knew what this was now. An initiation. He''d heard of them, not that they were rare. All the gangs did something like this, he was pretty sure. The ABB and Empire were alike in that their initiations involved violence; the ABB against white people and the Empire¡­ Well, the Empire against everyone else, really. ¡­ I''m gonna die, huh? The thought barely had a moment to settle in, the realization dropping into his stomach like an anchor, when a belligerent yell caught his attention. Sparky''s gaze snapped up as a screaming figure launched themselves out of the door and down the stairs in a blur of motion. Before he could even move, A hard right slammed into his jaw with a guttural yell that Sparky wasn''t even sure were words, the teenager suddenly struggling with the monumental task of keeping himself upright. Breathing ragged and unsteady, the teenager threw himself forward, forgoing careful attempts to find balance in favor of the much simpler solution of simply hurling his body in the opposite direction he was falling. It worked¡­ kinda. Wavering in place, Sparky blinked back, unfocused eyes managing to land on the belligerent figure that had struck him out of nowhere. He blinked once more at the familiar face contorted in anger as well as the fist flying toward his face, something shiny wrapped around its knuckles. ...Mal? A sharp pain exploded above his eye, the world going black for a single instant as that same fist rocked his entire world. No one caught him when he fell. Not that he expected them to, really. "Nnggh!" Sparky was reintroduced to the asphalt with a loud grunt of pain that was audible even behind his gag, the sound more a muffled yell than anything else. F¡­ fuck. His nose met the ground with a noise that he would have been more worried about if his head wasn''t currently throbbing hard enough to block out almost everything else. Said everything else already hurt bad enough, a large chunk of his face a patchwork of bruising and what could only be a cut above his left eye from the brass-knuckled fist that had just made contact with his face. A faceplant and broken nose didn''t help that much at all. Wetness gushed down Sparky''s face, both from his nose and a good bit higher than that, the taste of something warm and metallic in his mouth as he tried not to choke on his gag. With great effort, the teenager managed to roll over, eyes staring up at the night sky, unable to discern the stars in the sky from those in his vision. Sparky stared up at his attacker, eyes meeting a face dotted with bruises as the angry teen stared down at him. ''In his head, the pieces suddenly started to form one by one, all of them falling in place as the night began to make sense. You''re fucking joking, I swear to god. This can''t seriously be h... Behind his gag, Sparky began to make a sound that could only be described as muffled laughter, the manic urge to cackle madly seizing the teenager. It didn''t take a genius to realize what was going on, why he was one of the people snatched up along with all those Asian kids. Oh, this would be way funnier if I wasn''t about to get fucking murd- He didn''t get a chance to finish the thought as Mal Duncan screamed bloody murder and his booted foot smashed down on Sparky''s face. For the second time that night, Axel Ramon knew darkness. Lag 6.11 Lag 6.11 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C No. Greg Veder was wrong. No. No. This was not fun. No. No. No. No. No. His thoughts were a scattered mess, both from irritation and impatience. His feet landed on another surface, and the black-red figure that was Hardkour took off again. Again, he ignored the damage he left behind on another rooftop, tiles scattered and flying from the force of his takeoff. Backtracking again! He gritted his teeth, a frustrated anger building up in his chest. How many times is it now? Yet again, Greg had to double back and scout around after meeting another dead end. How in the flying frick are a bunch of white vans this hard to find? How in the flying frick, indeed? It had been a good bit over thirty minutes since he had gotten both the call from a frantic Seo and the alert from the Game. The former had changed the details of the latter and spurred him into action. Well over twenty minutes had gone by since he had met up with Seo and scouted three other locations. Every one of them had been a spot in his territory that the Empire had performed their smash-and-grabs. At every location, several of his men were injured, whether from gunshots or other wounds; Greg hadn''t really bothered to clarify. To make things worse, more than a few innocents needed a hospital, but at the very least that was the worst of it. Thankfully, the E88 thugs hadn''t killed anyone, but Greg wasn''t sure why that was. He could only assume the Empire had done rush jobs on their way to get the hell out of dodge, rather than any desire to avoid a murder charge. Fucking Empire! The thought was like a surge of heat in his chest as he bounded off a streetlight. He didn''t need to wonder what they were going to do with the teenagers they kidnapped, and it only made his mood worse. Seo had already told him what was likely to happen if the kids weren''t rescued in time. Greg wasn''t exactly unaware of the things the gangs did, but he had been grim-faced ever since Seo had explained in-depth what gang initiations in Brockton Bay tended to be like. The teenager didn''t miss how quick the smoking gangster had been to go silent after he had asked him about what he knew about the ABB''s initiations on a personal level. Greg decided to ignore that. For now. While the man skirted around exactly how he knew what he did, Seo still made sure to give Greg concrete facts about what the Empire did for initiations as well as how the old ABB had officially invited new members into the group. Nothing he heard helped his mood. All of that in mind, Greg knew that every second he wasted was a chance another kid his age wasn''t going to make it to sunrise. So, the kid did what came naturally. He took to the rooftops. He raced across the skyline, long red scarf trailing behind him like a comet as he bounded from ledge to ledge, trying to find any trace of the kidnappers before it was too late. He had already rushed over to the third place they were supposed to have hit, Taipei Town already far behind him now. For the third time in a row, the bastards were gone by the time he had gotten there. Can''t fucking believe this. He had no idea how fast the Empire had moved. There was no point in wasting time or trying to be subtle, so he didn''t bother in hiding his [Reinforcement] or avoiding any use of the physique-boosting Brute power. Well aware that he had a job to do, he tapped into the wilder poor energy inside of him and poured on the speed, making sure to use no more than he could regenerate without digging too deep. Even though Greg knew that he wasn''t exactly the shining beacon of gold that he knew White Knight looked like, the teenager was well aware that the glow coming from him was nowhere near discreet against the dark of the night. He also knew that trying to be stealthy would only slow him down, and time was running out. Not for him, but definitely for others. Hardkour''s figure jumped from rooftop to rooftop, blurring across the skyline for barely a second before he was airborne once more as he bounded from place to place. A yellow glow flickered from behind the eye-slits of an expressionless red face-helm as he scanned the area below with Reinforced eyes, the apex of his leap giving him the perfect chance to do so. Nghh. At the same time, the young cape did the best he could to ignore the growing spike of pain he felt every single time he forcefully pushed the overeager golden light inside him to enhance something as sensitive as his eyes. Goddamn it! A growl burst from his throat, anger not pain forcing the sound from him. Literally can''t believe this. This makes no goddamn sense right now! He had no idea how the Empire could have moved so fast by themselves. From what Seo had told him, no one had seen a single cape among them, only regular petty Empire thugs. Thirty minutes and I can''t find a one fricking single va- His head snapped to the right as his thoughts came to a sudden halt. A half-second later, the blond dropped down with knees bent, the roof ledge he landed on cracking slightly as his reinforced body proved superior. Eye-slits flashed gold once more as he reinforced his eyes again. Is that¡­ It was. He could see it now, almost four blocks away A dirty, dented white van ¡ª license plates conveniently missing ¡ª cut across a parking lot as it made its way toward what looked like a back road. For a vehicle clearly past its prime and not built for any careless driving, the driver ignored those limitations as they drove recklessly and well above the speed limit; their path seemingly headed right towards the Docks. Gotcha! The blond''s eyes locked on to his target, sure of its location. You''re not getting away from me. Then he pushed off. Less than a second later, he burst high above the concrete jungle like a rocket, mana thrumming along with his will as he pulled on his [Aerokinesis] to extend his leap. It was then that he felt it. Weak enough that he almost dismissed it as an itch, it pulsed again, and he confirmed the feeling without even having to think about it; the lazy throb of [Danger Sense]. Oh, come on. Not you again. The sensation all-too familiar against the back of his neck, Greg pushed the pulse of forewarning away from his thoughts as he dropped down towards the speeding van, Aerokinesis boosting his speed and keeping him aloft. Not now! He frowned to himself, as the sensation buzzed lightly once more. The Thinker power of his had been oddly sensitive since he had upgraded it last, pulsing off every time he jumped off a particularly high roof or oddly enough, often for no reason at all throughout a normal day. Half the time at Winslow, he felt it buzzing whenever he made eye contact with a random gang kid with anger issues, regardless of race. Just the implication of someone meaning him harm was enough to set the thing off somehow, which was freaking insane. Hell, when it came to even the average thug with a gun, he''d gotten used to the thing buzzing at him over and over, each bullet enough to catch the thing''s attention if it happened to stray too close. And considering he thought it was pretty fun to cut it close, plenty of heated lead would often go screaming inches from his body. His [Danger Sense] buzzing for every single instance of that was more than a bit of a damper on that fun. Useful, sure, but still annoying. In fact, that stupid oversensitivity was the main reason he hadn''t bothered to upgrade it higher than it currently was. If it was this annoying at only six ranks, how bad would it be at ten? His stupid territory warnings were bad enough already. If [Danger Sense] got any worse, he''d never get a single moment of peace. Honestly, he had enough pains in his ass without making the one in his neck a bigger one. It was for that reason that he ignored the repeated sensations from the moment he launched himself off the rooftop. It buzzed again, pulsing the instant his soles hit the ground. Apart from a slight wince at the reminder of possible danger, Hardkour didn''t bother to hesitate. He burst forward, shedding aside [Reinforcement] in favor of his own unnatural speed. It was more than enough. He barely had time to get into his own pace, the world not even blurring much at the edges of his vision, before over a hundred meters vanished in literal seconds. Hardkour eased up the intensity of his stride as he neared his speeding target, careful not to overshoot the van as he pulled back his speed to just a little faster than it was already moving. In another second, he was neck-and-neck with the dented vehicle. Can''t hit the thing, he thought to himself, revising his strategy of driving it off the road. There''s kids in there. The young cape shook his head. Gotta take out the driver first. Hardkour sped up just a little bit more until he was right next to the driver''s window. His head darted to the side, allowing him to cast a harsh look at the hooded figure behind the steering wheel. "Good evening, sir! Great night for a drive!" He spoke the words in a tone that didn''t match his mood, a joke already on the tip of this tongue. "L-license and registration, please!" The next sentence nearly stumbled out as it left his mouth, Greg slightly surprised that the driver already began to lower their window. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Saves me the trouble of breaking the window, he thought viciously after a moment, smiling to himself. Just gotta KO the driver, stop the van, and save the kids. Then, I find the other vans. Easy as cake. It was a surprise then, when he felt his [Danger Sense] pulse yet again to grab his attention, Greg unable to ignore it as it rang with the urgency and intensity of a punch to the back of the head. Jesus! It pulsed once more, forcing Greg to tear his head away for barely a second to wince at the sensation. What. Now. He glanced back at the driver with an irritated grimace beneath his mask, only for his expression to freeze as he stared at the open driver''s window. Blue eyes widened mid-stride as he stared through the object sticking out at him, the teenager''s face barely a meter away from the palm of a gloved hand. His field of vision, limited as it was by the mask he wore, distorted as something rippled the air outwards from the palm in his face. Instincts and another pulse from [Danger Sense] demanded he jump away. He didn''t have to think about it, body already brimming with golden light as he made to kick backwards. "What the f-" To his raw shock, Hardkour froze in place with a curse on his lips. Literally. A distorted sphere of near-translucent milky light surrounded him for a meter around as he hung in the center of it. In the middle of the street, he stood perfectly still within the odd light formation, unable to even move his eyes as he stared straight forward. His body a statue in mid-stride, frozen in place and mouth open behind his mask. The van screeched to a sudden stop, the back doors bursting open. The moment they did so, Hardkour caught sight of someone with hands wreathed in the same greyish light that surrounded him, one of those hands gripping the musclebound shoulder of a much larger figure, this one with a white-blue tiger mask that Greg was honestly getting tired of seeing. Without warning, a keening wail screeched out through the otherwise quiet night as Stormtiger raised his hands, a mass of roiling air in his grasp. That sound was cut short by the unholy sound that followed it and quickly put the last one to shame by sheer volume and depth. If Greg could move, his eyes would have widened further at the vibration powerful enough to make the ground shudder. A moment after he called it up, the aerokinetic let go of his power. Hardkour couldn''t even gasp as the world exploded in front of him, the bubble of energy surrounding him collapsing under the force of what slammed into the blond like a cannon. If he was in a position to describe it, he might have had the idea that it felt like being hit by a truck¡­
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If said truck was going a hundred miles an hour¡­
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And covered with knives.
-17 -16 -20 -19 -24 -27 -16 -21 -24 -22 -28 -25 -26 -22 -28 -21 -24 -18 -20 -18 -26 -16 -24 -19 -21
A lot of knives.
+ 1 VIT (203 ¡ú 204) Resistance: Slashing Lvl Up! (18 ¡ú 20) Resistance: Piercing Lvl Up! (40¡ú 41) Resistance: Blunt Force Lvl Up! (70 ¡ú 71)
He flew back still frozen in that unfortunate mid-stride position; body hurled like a doll by the hand of a particularly petulant toddler. "-uck!" A second later, Greg Veder finally let out the last of his curse, the rest of the word coming out like a gasp as he felt his body return to him in mid-air.
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Another gasp forced itself out from his lungs as his back met what could only be a brick wall with an impressive amount of force. His body drove through it with only the slightest bit of hesitation, the only comfort being the fact that it managed to slow him down.
-54 -30
Somewhat.
-22 -6
That comfort didn''t last long as he collapsed another wall in a flail of limbs, still unable to stop his body as he rag-dolled backwards through wood and plaster and an entire pane of glass with the uncaring force that was pure momentum managing to keep him going despite his wishes.
-4 -2 -2 -1
"Gah!" Hardkour''s body landed hard on another backstreet as he left the damaged storefront behind. A grunt of pain left him as a mouthful of blood coated the inside of his face-helmet. Another incoherent sound followed right behind it as he painfully bounced head over heels, back grinding over the asphalt repeatedly. It was when he finally came to a relatively painless stop that the young cape blinked and took it upon himself to glance up at the scarlet notifications in his field of view. "W-What just-" he gasped, choking on the words as he grabbed his stomach, the fact that his jacket had been shredded allowing him to feel the deep cuts. The blood pooling around his fingers as the gloved digits sunk into his torso wounds only made things worse. His face a conflicting mess of emotions, Greg Veder could only let out a slight sigh, albeit one tinged with pain. Huh.
Status Effect: Shattered Ribs (2) - 24 Minutes Status Effect: Bleeding (Severe) - 45 Minutes Status Effect: Internal Bleeding (Mild) - 2 Hours Status Effect: Flayed Skin (Mild) - 30 Minutes Status Effect: Perforated Liver - 1 Hour
He finally settled on curiosity, pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind at the same time as he did his best to ignore the pain he was currently feeling. The bulk of said pain was apparently one or two of his bottom ribs jabbing into what was just confirmed to be his liver, which was certainly a new feeling. Not one he enjoyed, but certainly new. When did Stormtiger get that frickin'' strong, like goddamn? Like, almost 1k health. What the... Still, Greg didn''t really care about that. Okay, no... That was a lie. He very much did. However, that wasn''t what the main topic on his mind, not really. No, what currently had his attention was another question, albeit just as relevant. How the hell did they trap me? He was chasing after a van, a van that was supposed to have kidnapped kids in it, not be full of Empire capes. He had no idea how they knew where he would be tonight, considering he didn''t even have any idea he was going to be doing this tonight himself. Frantically jumping from location to location as fast as he had been, and they still caught him¡­ Okay. Okay. Okay. Greg took a deep breath, the feeling of his rib bone slowly shifting back into position inside his body distracting him somewhat. Truthfully, it was only half as distracting as the red single digits constantly ticking down in the corner of his vision. An equally deep breath left him in an exhale as he heard the squeal of screeching tires, the teenager not even having to stand to be well aware of the van that had just turned the corner at the end of the block. And there they are. A grunt came from the teenage cape''s mouth as he rolled over quickly at the warning of another pulse of [Danger Sense]. Okay, you''re only annoying sometimes, I guess. The explosion of another grenade of compressed air ruptured the ground where he had just been and sent him rolling further away. He hissed, nearly biting his tongue as his sudden motion against the ground jarred his abdomen. A flare of red pushed more digits in his vision as he felt the bone move inside him, teeth gritted in further pain. Careful. Hardkour launched himself backwards in a push-up motion, snapping to his feet in one motion even as he let out a gasp of pain. Still, he did his best to ignore his wounds, considering he planned on maiming the ones who gave them to him. The slashes on his costume were many and varied, Stormtiger''s powerful blast having ripped through the leather of his costume like safety scissors through printer paper. His chest, especially, took the worst of it as his jacket hung off him in places like ribbons, the blood dripping from the cuts on his wounds stinging even worse under exposure to air. He liked this costume. They were gonna pay for that. He stood there for a second, catching his breath as his attackers leapt out from the truck. Two of them were remarkably familiar to his eyes, one of them more so than the other, but the other two¡­ The other two... Despite their bright and gaudy costumes marking them as parahumans, they were complete unknowns to him and everyone else but the Empire. New capes. Greg''s eyes narrowed behind his helmet. Great. Underneath his clothes, his muscles bristled with barely repressed rage, skin tingling with violent energy as he held back the urge to slam a fist through one or all of their skulls for the sudden attack on his person. "So¡­" A hand slowly rose to his face, fingers splayed over his mask as he made sure not to hinder his vision. "Before I say, what the actual fuck was that, and whoops, guess I just did..." A flash of blue energy flickered as the red half-helmet vanished from his face, exposing a black domino mask beneath. A pair of angry blue eyes beneath that promised pain as he stared at the capes across the street. As the light faded completely, the last of the oddly geometric motes of blue energy vanishing, each one of his surprise attackers caught sight of the wide-mouthed expression the young cape wore as he stared back at them. "Let me ask each one of you chucklefucks one simple question." Half-grin, half-grimace; all sharp-toothed irritation at the core of it all. He spat a fat wad of blood against the debris-littered ground, careful to keep an eye on the capes in front of him. "Where the hell are those kids?" A pair of pupils morphed from humanlike to other by the end of the sentence, eyes casting a serpentine gaze at the four figures staring him down across the street. He knew even without checking, the same way he knew his eyes had changed, that beneath his gloves, his fingernails had shifted into frighteningly sharp claws, each one capable of easily puncturing metal. "And before you answer that..." The blond cape slowly turned his head to take in each one of his attackers, irises flashing intensely with that bright blue glow as he locked on to each and every face staring back at him with expectant yet wary expressions. "I want you to think real hard about the answer to my second question¡­ Hardkour took a single step forward out of the rubble he stood in, still grinning as he kicked a piece of brick out of his way hard enough for the thing to shatter into red dust. Gloved hands met in front of his chest, a hard fist smashing tightly into an open palm as his voice took on something of an inhuman growl. "How badly do you want to die?" Cutscene: Taken II Cutscene: Taken II ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "-ey. Hey, kid. You there?" Words drifted past the haze of pain, easing him slowly back into the waking world. "Ngggh." The sound was muffled, a mouthful of dirty cloth still shoved firmly in his jaw. He groaned again as the world returned to him, sensations exploding all over his mind and body in ways that were entirely unpleasant. "Nggggghhhhh." Sparky groaned, unable to stop himself at all. His head pounded, consciousness warring with the reawakened throbbing surface that was his skull. It wasn''t just his head, the teenager realized a moment later, a low keening groan escaping from his throat. His whole body stood out a mass of aching fless, nearly every single feeling popping into his conscious mind ringing with the same note. Pain. Axel Ramon peeled one eye open despite himself, trying to see exactly where he was and why¡­ Why am I not dead? That question aside, he quickly realized he was upright again, albeit with his butt planted firmly on a chair. Not by choice, of course, but then if he had anything like a choice offered to him, he would never even be here in the first place. Wherever here was, anyway. "Helloooooo, you got brain damage or what?" A voice called out to him. Sparky tried his best to ignore it as he tried to focus past the raw mass of bruised flesh that was his body, trying as best he could to take stock of his situation. I''m in a chair in some shitty room in some abandoned building. He could guess that much just from the peeling wallpaper, stained walls and the creaky wood floor he could make out just from flicking his eyes across the ground. The fact that the only lighting in the dim room seemed to come from a single flickering light-bulb just overhead didn''t exactly make his job any easier. Attempting to move his arms, the teenager quickly confirmed something that his unconscious brain already let him know. Jesus fuckin'' Christ, you''re kidding me. Both of his arms were held behind his back and around the wooden chair, tied together by a piece of thick rope securing his wrists. His heartbeat picked up as he felt the ropes give slightly as he tugged on them a bit, only for his mood to sink even lower as he realized that he would need a good deal of privacy to actually get anywhere. Double fuck. Even with his head down, Sparky still had one good eye able to tell him that no one else was in the room but him and seemingly a lone Empire asshole, the man''s boots being the only pair of footwear in the room other than his own. Despite himself, Sparky let out another groan as a spike of pain ran up his arms as he tried to flex out of his bonds without moving too much, the limbs feeling twice as heavy as lead and half as tender as hamburger meat. "Ah, fucking finally. You''re awake," the voice continued, voice sounding more amused than actually caring. "Almost thought you were dead for a bit." He laughed at that, actually laughing as Sparky''s slowly waking brain tried to process what exactly was so funny. "Kid''s got some anger issues to work out, I know. Just how I used to be," the man added on with a wistful sigh, clicking his tongue at the end of it. "Everytime I see him, I almost shed a little tear. Manly tear, but you get me, right?" ...What? Even without saying a word, the aura of confusion around him must have been so clear that even his kidnapper could notice it, the man letting out another chuckle after a few seconds passed by in awkward silence. "I bet you''re kinda wondering, what the fuck am I doing here?" The Empire goon began once more, boots clomping on the creaking wood floors as he took a few steps away from the far wall. "I don''t look ABB, so why the fuck did they grab me and toss me with a van full of chinks, right?" He wasn''t wrong, of course. Sparky was, in fact, wondering roughly the same thing. At least, he was pretty sure he had been wondering about it before he woke up again. Things were still kinda hazy upstairs, though, probably because the last thing he remembered was a boot meeting his face. Probably. "Well, don''t waste any more time worrying about that. I figure it''s only fair to let you know exactly why the fuck your head''s on the chopping block tonight." The teenager shuddered as the end of the sentence settled into his ears, his neck suddenly hurting much more than the rest of him as the implications. "Like, uhhh, wait¡­" the man snorted. "No one''s gonna cut your head off, okay. That''s just pointless and this ain''t fucking Mexico, all right?" The rational part of his brain kicked in as the speaker took another long pause, pain and haziness ignored for a few seconds as a pair of amber eyes flickered across the floor of the dark room. It took no time at all to take in the room again, given that it seemed like some kind of basic studio apartment. At least, it used to be at one point. Time, neglect, and outright vandalism seemed to have turned the space into something that would probably have been perfect fodder for some kind of indie horror movie, not much needing to be done to make the place look any scarier than it already was. Apart from what seemed like a portable camera perched on a short stand several feet across from where he sat and just in front of the other occupant of the room - And wasn''t that fucking worrying - the room seemed to be almost entirely empty, indistinguishable from one of many in the various run-down properties all over the Bay. But why me? Why am I here? There was no answer to that question, none that he wanted to acknowledge at least. More than that, there wasn''t much information for Sparky to gain without actually lifting his head to scan the room. Even still, the teenager didn''t dare to raise his gaze and potentially meet eyes with the only other person in the room. That was just asking for trouble. Like I''m not in a shitload already, he snarled back at his own thoughts. How did this happen? "You got into some shit that wasn''t your business, you know?" the man asked with a sigh. "This was about teaching the fucking Asians a lesson, not to stick their heads up again. Like, they pulled some shit and now, it''s like they think they don''t deserve a beating for it. We''re just being good citizens here." How is this about me, though? Sparky thought, the gag in his mouth the only thing keeping him from vocalizing the words. You giant asshole, what did I fucking do? "Tonight was not gonna be about you but you made it about you. You got into a fight that didn''t involve you. It was simple, mano a mano. It was about respect. If my kid got knocked down a peg, fine, that''s on him. And then you stick your dirty hands where they don''t belong." Jesus Christ, fuck me a third time. Sparky felt his heart rise into his throat, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he realized where this was going. Sparky followed the pair of legs with his eyes, boots stomping over to the right side of the room as his captor leaned back against the wall and continued speaking. "A mutt jumps in and throws a sucker punch like a fucking coward and then he spits on my boy''s face! I gotta ask you, what the fuck did you think was gonna happen?" It was odd to him, hearing the man speak even if Sparky wasn''t actually listening. The gangster''s tone and words were almost perfectly contradictory, and he even had to wonder how so much anger could leak out from a voice that sounded more amused by what he was saying than anything else. "Do you see the position you put me in? Put my boy in? He can''t live that down if he''s ever gonna join the family. It''s unfair to him." Okay. Honestly, the thing that really seemed unfair to Sparky was how much shit he was being put through. If it wasn''t enough that his hands were tied, both of his legs were bound as well, albeit in an altogether different way. Both of his ankles were secured by the same sort of rope, each tied to a rickety chair leg by the ankles with much better knots than the ones around his wrists. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell! Fingernails dug into his palms as he tried not to scream out loud in frustration, already something of an impossibility with the rag in his mouth choking most sound. "You sucker punched him in front of his boys, in front of his school, and then spit on him like he was dirt beneath your feet and I''m just stunned by the size of your fucking balls to think that shit wasn''t gonna come back to you. Like, what¡­ We don''t fucking exist to you?" the voice continued on, a pause every now and then between sentences that was a bit too long for something as simple as a breath. "Brockton Bay was built by our people. The Empire is our heritage. ABB, Merchants, the rest of you, you''re all fucking parasites." Oh, come on, just fucking ki- Sparky bit down on the sarcastic response in his own head, the taste of blood in his mouth suddenly all too noticeable as he ground his teeth and kept his head down. He wasn''t dead. Yet. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. He had to hold on to that as long as possible, keep that going by not being a fucking idiot and interrupting the violent, kidnapping Nazi. "Look at me." It was a command, one that he would have preferred not to follow, but the teenager was very well aware that he wasn''t exactly in anything approaching a bargaining position at the moment. So, he did. Axel Ramon raised his gaze, shifting in his chair as he hid the attempt to ease the ever-loosening binds around his hands as nothing more than an accompanying shoulder movement. For a second, he locked eyes with the man, amber meeting brown, as the gangster grinned back at him, opening his jacket just enough for Sparky to catch sight of the serrated knife in the inner pocket. Eyes wide as he tried to ignore his pounding heartbeat, the terrified teenager snapped his head back down to face the ground, anger at himself filling his chest for giving the bastard the reaction he wanted. "So now, you''re feeling the tension, huh? Can''t blame you, though," Another pause. "If I was sitting where you were and looked like you did, I''d be pissing and shitting myself, crying like a fucking baby, and begging for mercy." An actual cackle of laughter followed those words, the man clearly enjoying both his own joke and Sparky''s shudder of a reaction for all the worst reasons. "Honestly, if I wasn''t real focused on this cigarette right here, I''d give you a round of applause for being so brave right now, hand to God." The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty room, Sparky holding his breath as he realized the man was nearing him. It took just a few seconds for the gangster to make his way over to him at a relaxed pace ¡ª literal seconds ¡ª but they felt like entire minutes, each one of them. Either way, they passed all the same. And eventually, Sparky could only shudder again, entire body vibrating with fear as the man finally came to a stop just barely a foot away from him. "Look at me," he commanded again. A sudden defiant urge filled him and Sparky hesitated, unwilling to move. A second or two passed and the gangster took another step forward, clearly interpreting the disobedience for what it was. "I said, Look at me," the thug repeated harshly, a spike of aggression in the man''s voice edging out his formerly playful tone. Sparky didn''t. Even as the rational part of his mind begged him to listen, the rest of him simply gritted his teeth and kept his head down. Despite being aware that his life was literally in the man''s hands, Sparky didn''t really feel the need to indulge the fucker''s demands. I''m gonna die anyway, ri- The thought was interrupted as a gloved hand gripped his chin, painfully jerking his face upwards. Sparky''s eyes met the other man''s and he almost flinched again. Looking far more unhinged than amused, the red-rimmed and beady orbs looked down at him with raw hate. Adrenaline banished the pain almost completely for a few seconds, cold fury pushing away his fear and nerves as well. Staring at the face of the only person in the world he wanted dead, Sparky didn''t even flinch as the man spoke up again. Despite looking like he was on the verge of snapping, the words that left the man''s mouth were almost smooth as silk. "You know, you know, I bet you''re wondering why I haven''t killed you yet." Sparky couldn''t deny that, yes, he was curious about that. Very, very curious, considering his life literally depended on the answer. "I''d love to do the job, but it''s not for me. No, no, no," he laughed again, the sound slipping slightly to a level of manic that shook Sparky''s conviction. "No, you''re not here for me. You see that camera back there?" The man jerked his head back towards the device Sparky had noted a while ago. "I''m gonna use that to film you getting your head beat in." Sparky''s eyes narrowed. "Then I''m gonna send it to your parents when they report you missing to the cops." He smiled again. "Can''t have them holding out hope." The cold fury filled his chest again. "And you know who''s gonna get the honors of beating you to death with his bare hands?" Sparky didn''t need him to answer the question. Mal. It was almost kinda funny, really. I''m gonna get killed by a shitty bully so he doesn''t look like a bitch. "My precious little baby boy, that''s who." Air escaped through Sparky''s nostrils in the best approximation of a sigh he could manage, the unneeded response sinking his mood further than he knew it could go. ...fuck. The teenager blinked in surprise as he was pulled out of his own thoughts by a removal of pressure from his face. A pair of amber eyes blinked again as he realized his chin was suddenly free from the man''s grip, only for those same eyes to widen as a pair of gloved hands went for his face instead. Wai- The hands settled around the back of his head, fingers undoing the knot that held the gag in the work of a moment or two. Without a moment''s hesitation, Mal''s father yanked the entire thing out of the teenager''s mouth, a slight look of disgust on his face as he flinged it into some dark corner of the room. Sparky''s eyes widened again, this time for another reason, as he took in his first real breath in what felt like forever. The gulps of refreshing air came with deep heavy sighs, his lungs working hard even as he felt his bruised torso protest. "After we finish filming the business downstairs, I''m gonna come up and the boy''s gonna take care of our special guest. Make a real spectacle to make Mom & Pops feel special, won''t we?" The man''s grin widened as he gripped Sparky''s chin again with a gloved hand, nodding the boy''s head for him as Sparky bristled at his touch. "I''m not gonna lie to you, though, Malcolm''s gonna be real eager when he sees you next, so... you only got this one chance. Any last words?" The teenager stared up again, hate in his eyes. He didn''t have much to say but something was at the forefront of his mouth despite that. A mouthful of blood and thick phlegmy spit sat there, poised to fly from his lips if he really wanted it to. Do it, part of him screamed. The defiant part. The part he wanted to listen to. Spit in his fucking Nazi face, it begged. What do you have to lose? It would almost be worth it, really. Almost. The cost would certainly be another beating he couldn''t afford right now. Worse than that, maybe even his early death, if the bastard didn''t feel inclined to stop. Instead, Sparky sat silent, making no noise but the sound of his own heavy, labored breathing through his open mouth. After a long moment... He laughed. The man stared at him with an odd smile for a few seconds, head tilted slightly. Then he began to chuckle as Sparky continued to laugh with the hoarse and unsteady voice of someone on the verge of tears. Within seconds, Malcolm''s father was laughing along, the sound full-bodied and mocking compared to the teenager''s labored noises. That only made Sparky laugh more, unable to stop himself at the absurdity of everything. Eventually, though, the noises coming from the man began to fade as Sparky continued to laugh, the sound almost a half-cough now as he barely even paused for breath. "Kid, what''s so funny?" "...well," Sparky let out another burst of manic laughter that would have made most people flinch from the suddenness of it, "I''m pretty sure I have a concussion." The Empire bastard raised an eyebrow. Sparky could only laugh again. "That''s not it, though, but it was something that was kinda fuckin'' funny. I sucker punch Mal, he hits me so hard I go retarded. I spit on him, he kills me..." The sentence devolved into another burst of laughter, the action actually causing him pain now. "I-I''m gonna die, right?" the teenager finally asked, the question spilling out of his mouth. "That there was the plan, yeah." "Y-yeah, I figured it but just, you know, gotta make sure," He laughed again, the sound finally trailing away. "But no, you see¡­ the th-thing is that you''re all gonna fucking die too, y''know that, right?" The kidnapper blinked, eyes narrowed slightly. "Now how do you figure that?" "You kidnapped a lot of Asian kids, too. Not just that one van, right?" Sparky continued, the thoughts of earlier in the night back at Greg''s house coming to him. "And you''re g-gonna kill them. And.. a-and they look perfect ABB starter age, I''m guessing. Winslow, I recognized one of them, I think." "You''re not wrong on that." "See, I hear the ABB got a new cape boss and¡­ he''s why you''re doing all this, I''m guessing. Cause he''s making you look¡­ well, look like what I made your little boy look like, r-right?" The grin the Empire member had been wearing lessened, easing into just a smile. "He''s gonna fucking gut you, and your kid and all of you¡­ You''re all going to die screaming..." Sparky let out another low laugh, the sound quickly shifting into a cough as the phlegm and blood he''d been holding back dribbled out of his mouth. The teenager smiled up with stained teeth and bloody lips, sure of himself as he held on to whatever small victory he could. "So¡­ s-so, if I die, I''m pretty sure you''re going with me." "... you done talking?" Sparky watched as the man he knew as Malcolm Duncan''s father blinked. He stared as the man let out a slight "huh" of acknowledgement, lips pursed in thought as he seemingly processed the words of the teenager in front of him with a simple nod. "Your boots look like shit." Sparky saw the blow coming. He even went limp as best as he could. It didn''t keep his vision from going white for a second as the right side of his face exploded with pain. It certainly didn''t keep him from falling to the floor, still tied to the chair as his face met the dusty, dirty ground with a sound that was only half as agonizing as it felt. If the impact that knocked all the air from his lungs wasn''t enough, the hot wetness he could feel dripping from his nostrils was another punishment in and of itself. "You''ve got a smart mouth." Helps to have a smart brain, he tried to bite back. From where he lay on the ground, it came out as something more like "Hmmfpshohmppfasmrfffbfff." "I''ll be back." Sparky lay on the ground, eyes closed and entirely unmoving. He heard those boots clomp across the room, barely restrained anger visible from how hard the man dropped his feet with each step. A few seconds later, the sound of a creaky door opening and slamming shut met his ears. He stayed like that for almost a minute, ears peeled for any semblance of sound they could pick up long after the sound of footsteps had vanished from his perception. Idiot. His body ached, most of him feeling like a giant bruise every time he so much as took a breath and the entire but even still, Sparky felt victorious as he tugged his arms out of the knot the idiot had jostled completely loose by knocking him to the floor. Yes! The cheers in his head only increased as he pulled the knots tying his legs free, the fact that the chair legs were already half-broken from the fall making the actions so much easier. FUCK YES! Then came the hardest part. He made to stand up, only to nearly fall back to the floor entirely as his body decided to resist him. He considered it luck that he caught himself on his hands and knees. Luck or effort? Honestly, whatever saved him from landing on his face again and preventing another nosebleed, he would go with. He breathed, the action heavy and shuddering as he pressed his forehead against the filthy, dust-covered ground of the one-room apartment. His skin stung all over, the pain there barely comparable to the rest of him. C''mon. Axel Ramon did not care about that. He didn''t have the time to care. He didn''t have the luxury to care. It took several long, hoarse breaths as he gritted his teeth until he was grinning despite himself, his face a rictus as he pushed himself to ignore the pain. It took a few more to actually act on it. With as quiet a groan as he could manage, the teenager pushed himself back to his feet as something that felt like excitement rose up in his chest, filling him with unexplained euphoria as he rose up to his full height. The jagged edge of one shattered chair leg in one hand, he took a few tentative steps toward the door, almost painfully slow in his movements. Even still, he was grinning like a madman. He had never felt so sure of himself before, so alive. It was probably just adrenaline, maybe a concussion. But even still¡­ Sparky bent over and retched, the orange chicken in his stomach vacating his stomach and adding a fresh coat of color to the drab wood floors. A few seconds later, Sparky forced himself upright again, tears falling from his eyes as he wiped the wetness from his lips. Despite it all, he still wore a smile as he glanced up. Was... was this what going crazy felt like? He was going to die, maybe¡­ Probably, the pessimistic - rational - part of his mind reminded him. Yeah, he was probably not going to survive the night, his body felt like shit on a stick but¡­ Even with all that, Axel also felt more of a thrill than he thought possible. God, what the fuck was going to happen next? Was this, he half-wondered, what Greg felt like when¡­? A palm met his forehead as Sparky winced away a headache. Yeah, yeah. Definitely a concussion. That same hand wrapped itself around the doorknob, the rest of him still buzzing with adrenaline. I got a chance. After all, he was already dead if he just sat there and waited for Mal and his shithead dad, anyway. Sparky swung the door open and stepped out into the dark, dingy hallway¡­ Only to find himself rebuffed immediately, a man''s broad back blocking his path to freedom. ...fuck. His jaw dropped as the skinhead in front of him slowly turned around. As they locked eyes, the somewhat dull and vacant look on the door guard''s face shifted to a blatant confusion that matched the shock that ran through Sparky at the very same instant. The world slowed as his grip tightened around the makeshift weapon in his hand, fear transforming into another burst of overpowering adrenaline. "Wait, what the f-" Sparky lunged forward. Cutscene: Taken III Cutscene: Taken III ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The thing in Sparky¡¯s hand wasn¡¯t even a chair leg anymore. Half of one at best, it was a jagged and broken thing that would be better thrown away, not even useful as a scrap of wood. As a chair leg, it was worthless. As a weapon, it was¡­ probably not much better. In Sparky¡¯s hand, in that single moment, it was a godsend. ¨C ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C¨C ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? ¨C ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C¨C ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? ¨C ¨C ?¨C ¨C? The moment passed. Sparky heard it, felt it, more than he saw it. The squelching noise as sharp, serrated, pointed wood met the weaker, gelatinous surface that was the eye. The spray of fluid and lack of resistance as the eye gave way. He pushed forward without realizing it, acting on instinct, his victim falling backward and him dropping to the dusty hallway floor along with him. The large skinhead flailed and shuddered on the ground as his body acted on a much deeper, more primal instinct than the one Sparky had gone with. Maybe, he would have screamed. Maybe, if he was still aware enough to. Maybe, if Sparky hadn¡¯t clamped a hand over the mouth of the spasming gangster as he forced his weapon as deep as it would go into his eye. And then even deeper still. ¡°Just die die die die die die die¡­¡± It took Sparky several seconds before he realized he was the one speaking ¡ª chanting, more like ¡ª those words, his face pulled into a rictus of a grimace that irritated the wounds on his face, as many as they were. He kept pushing, unwilling to ease up for fear that whatever he did wouldn¡¯t be enough and he¡¯d be caught again. Killed, if he was being honest with himself. ¡°Just fucking die,¡± he hissed to himself, more like a prayer than a demand. It was several long seconds more before the man under him stopped moving completely, responding to the teenager¡¯s pleading the only way he really could. The eyes of the now-corpse unfocused, dulled once more from the frantic panic that had set in for a few seconds until they came to a final stilling. The hallway was silent again, nothing but the teenager¡¯s frantic, hoarse breathing and the buzzing of the barely-working lights above his head. Is it- Sparky pushed the length of wood again, as if it could possibly go any deeper, rather than hope the job was done. It¡¯s¡­ over. Almost unwillingly, he let go of the man''s lower jaw and stared with narrowed eyes, watching carefully as the man¡¯s mouth opened, moving oddly for a moment before it simply went slack. Still watching for any signs of life, Sparky remained on top of him in a sitting position, straddling the dead gangster¡¯s body. His grip almost seemed plastered to the remaining bit of wood still free from the depths of the man¡¯s skull, the teenager finding it hard to let go. When he finally did, it wasn¡¯t entirely by choice. The disgusting stench that slammed his nostrils with almost a physical force was enough to shake Sparky back into awareness. The teenager jumped off the dead man¡¯s body almost immediately, face pulled into a grimace as he began to gag. Is that - "Shit!" It was. For the second time in about twice as many minutes, Sparky found himself retching as the remaining contents of his stomach ¡ª still tinted an unappealing shade of orange ¡ª left his body, the entire mess covering the twitching corpse in the hallway. Fuck. Sparky wiped his mouth again as his body continued to bristle with energy. His eyes struggled to move from the dead body in front of him, tears pricking his eyes as he struggled not to vomit a third time. I¡­ The body twitched again, moving just enough that the smell of shit suddenly spiked again and the vomit on its chest pooled toward the blood-splattered face and neck of the dead man. The gory sight filled the teenager¡¯s vision, the entire hallway blurring as the single corpse grew overwhelmingly large in his mind¡¯s eye. I did that. The thought flicked into his mind for a second, the same moment as he felt something churn behind his navel. The urge to vomit again reared up in his throat, as something like fear and regret began to overwhelm him A moment later, it vanished as his frantic, nervous thoughts were slammed down by an equally cold fury. Yeah. I did that. The thought of rationalizing it away came into his thought for a second. They kidnapped him, after all. They were gonna kill him. He was trying to escape and this guy¡­ Sparky glanced down at the large corpse at his feet, the man¡¯s considerable bulk and the mess that was his face making it hard to look at anything else. This guy was gonna stop him from getting away, right? Right. Even then, he didn¡¯t think about what he was doing, anyway. It was instinct, right? Right. Instinct. He didn¡¯t think about it. He just acted. ¡°¡­¡± Sparky took in another breath, ragged and hoarse as another shudder went through him. He stood there for a moment hunched over, bristling with a nervous sort of energy that he could only be thankful for. Nothing to justify, he let out a long breath, hands on his knees as he began to focus on the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. That¡¯s what Greg said, right? The voice in his head rings with a mocking sneer of a tone, his own sarcasm stabbing him in the back. The same thing you gave him shit for. Kind of a bitch move. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The teenager shook his head quickly, already cursing to himself under his breath. Nothing to justify. Nothing to justify. Nothing to justify. He shook his head again hurriedly, the unspoken reassurance on repeat in his thoughts like a mantra. The dying embers of what felt like a conscience were crushed even further everytime he repeated it, thankfully enough. It was this conviction that fueled Sparky as he began to creep down the dingy hallway, body in something of a crouch as he crept forward as silently as he could manage. Shuddering lightbulbs struggling under a poorly maintained wiring system buzzed silently overhead as he eased lightly from door to door. Sparky made sure to be careful with his steps, moving as quietly as he could to make sure that he didn¡¯t alert anyone around. It didn¡¯t also hurt that being quiet let him tell if someone was on the approach, either. That bastard said they were downstairs, right? He had, the teenager confirmed to himself a moment later, sure of that fact. They¡¯re filming their initiations downstairs, his fingers curled into fists at that thought. Killing a bunch of kids and¡­ and¡­ He winced as another twinge of pain went through him, the whispered curse on his lips suddenly for two purposes. ¡°Fuck.¡± As much as he hated accepting it, there was nothing he could do about it, as weak as he was right now. He couldn¡¯t stop them, no matter how much he wanted to repeat what he had just done to each and every bastard in this building. Even if he wasn¡¯t beaten bloody or running on nothing but fumes and pure adrenaline, what was he honestly supposed to do? Against a whole gang, especially? He wasn¡¯t a cape. He wasn¡¯t a cop. He wasn¡¯t¡­ ¡°Greg.¡± Another whisper escaped him, this one equal parts bitter and wistful. Closing his eyes for a moment, Sparky let out a long sigh, thoughts of earlier in the night stabbing his brain with regret. Fuck it, I¡¯m a big man. Sparky opened his eyes fully, one hand raised to scrape away the remnants of dried blood around one eyelid. I can admit it. I was wrong. He swallowed hard as he started forward again, edging carefully towards the flickering ¡®EXIT¡¯ sign at the end of the hallway. Kill em all. Salt the fucking earth. If he was like Greg ¡ª if I had powers like that ¡ª Sparky knew he¡¯d do it himself. He¡¯d make every fucking Empire fucker scream and beg for him to finish it quickly, even. Make them suffer, more like. He took in another ragged breath, just the thought of feeding the Empire their own medicine exciting enough to make his heart pound loud in his ears. Fucking hypocrite you are, he chastised himself, inner voice sounding distant compared to the bitter snark of before. Talking all that shit about right and wrong and now you wanna smash heads in. Just ¡®cause it¡¯s your problem now. Sparky slid up against the wall next to the door of the stairwell, another labored breath leaving him as he did his best to ignore the pain of his bruises. A slowly building headache from who-knows-how-many blows he had taken since he had been snatched off the street was poking its unwanted head up as well, the already-tired teenager noted with an internal groan. ¡­ Oh, fuck me. That same groan almost became external as he realized something else, the thought crashing into him in a sudden burst of awareness. My skateboard! My phone! The loss of both honestly hurt him almost as much as any one of the hits he had taken that night. Both of those together ran me like five hundred bucks and now they¡¯re¡­ they¡¯re... fucking¡­ fuck! Fucking fucking fuck! A sigh of pure frustration escaped Axel¡¯s mouth as he hung his head in defeat. Not enough they want to kill me, but they gotta murder my wallet, too. The tired teen pushed off the wall and slowly pushed open the door to the stairwell, wishing every Empire member a painful death under his breath as he stepped through... ¡°Hey, uh, Kev. I¡­ uhh, I''m sorry, man.¡± Those words died in his throat as Sparky found himself frozen again, heart beating in his throat as panic raced through his veins. "Look, If I''d known you''d be back so quick, I wouldn''t have taken your beer too, but¡­ uh, I¡­ at least it''s not warm, r-right?" The door closed behind him rather loudly as the man spoke, the teenager''s eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared at the muscled, tattoo-covered and shirtless back of another member of the Empire 88. ¡°I mean¡­¡± The man let out a raspy laugh, not even bothering to turn around as he continued to speak. ¡°No hard feelings, y''know?" The sound of liquid drizzling in a constant, if hesitant stream, began to fade as the man let out a sigh at the end of his sentence, oblivious to the teenager moving silently at his back. ¡°I¡¯ll buy you a round tom-¡± The word turned into a choked scream as the Neo-Nazi was struck from behind. He went airborne, head turning just enough for his frantic eyes to meet the cold ones staring back at him. Another cry left him, this one equal parts anger and shock, only to be cut short barely half a second later, overshadowed and silenced by another sound. CRACK! The sickening noise as his skull met the ground was louder than it had any right to be, the man¡¯s body buckling from the sheer impact of it. A half-second later, his legs curled far enough to nearly meet the back of his head before slumping back down to the ground, the man¡¯s unbuckled pants falling down to his knees and exposing even more bare flesh to his killer. The sound echoed throughout the stairwell, clouding out everything else as Sparky stared down from the top of the steps. He stood almost perfectly still as his leg dropped back to his side, the appendage formerly extended for the Spartan kick that had been used to send the man to his maker. The teenager let out another breath, still shaky but a good deal more calm than his last few, as he came back to himself. Hard kick. Small of his back. He hurriedly thought to himself, his brain restarting after a few quick breaths as he took stock of his own actions. Wow. W-wow. That worked. Axel Ramon swallowed, hands gripped tight at his sides. That really fucking worked. He glanced back down at the corpse at the bottom of the steps, the sight of blood as it began to pool around its head relaxing him for reasons he didn¡¯t feel like delving into right now. He¡¯s not getting up. Good. That makes two. Two. He tallied his wins, deaths at his hand marked in his head like a tally. That¡¯s two for me. Zero for the empire. The awareness that one win for the Empire meant his death was sobering, but it didn¡¯t exactly change much either. They got the numbers and I got the motivation, he thought to himself, a giggle spilling from his mouth. It took another breath for Sparky to blink in realization as another thought came to the forefront of his mind, his own thoughts surprising him. For a long time ¡ª seconds or minutes, he¡¯s really not sure ¡ª he stands in shock, before his mouth grows into a wide smile. The expression on his face pulled at the jagged cut across both his lips from Mal¡¯s brass-knuckled blow, but Sparky honestly couldn''t find it in him to care as a bark of laughter left his mouth. Fuck me running¡­ The teenager just shook his head in pure bemusement as he let out another hoarse laugh. He was right. It really does feel like winning. ¡°No hard feelings, right?¡± Sparky repeats the words of the cooling corpse, slipping into Greg¡¯s familiar nonchalant peppy tone with an ease that¡¯s almost frightening. ¡°It was me or you, my guy, and I¡¯m pretty sure being alive is better than being dead. Infinitely better, I think.¡± Another laugh trails away to a painful cough as the adrenaline in his veins begin to ebb, the awareness of his wounds slowly poking their way back to the forefront of his thoughts. It is with the taste of dried blood on his lips that Sparky comes back to himself, realizing that he¡¯s speaking to no one but himself in a dark stairwell. Fuck me. ¡°...I¡¯m gonna need way more than antidepressants after tonight,¡± the muttered words were all he could think to say as he turned around and stepped away from the stairs, leaving his handiwork as well as the path leading downstairs at his back. Mal¡¯s dad had been pretty clear, vividly so, that the real party was downstairs and Axel had no reason to doubt the man. On that much, at least. So many dozen junior E88 were probably at this party, all of them waiting there to make their first kills in the name of the Empire. God, I hate this city. Apparently, he was just the cherry on top, a bow-wrapped gift for Mal Duncan''s swearing in as a full-blooded Neo-Nazi. Having him kept away from anyone and everyone else was probably the guy¡¯s way of making sure nobody offed him before his bouncing bully boy could do the deed himself. Okay, so downstairs is death and¡­ A pair of exhausted amber eyes flicked up to the dark stairwell leading up to what could only be the roof exit. Stairway to heaven? He thought to himself after a long moment, before nodding tiredly. Note to self: learn how to play that fucking song. If you survive this, was what he didn¡¯t allow himself to think. Sparky stepped toward the stairwell, only to pause before he could make another forward motion. What the¡­ His gaze dropped to the ground, narrowed eyes having adjusted to the dim stairwell just enough to make out several objects right before he stepped on them. In front of him were a few scattered and empty beer bottles, the logo of a snarling, frothy-mouthed doberman atop the words ¡®Reservoir Dog¡¯ staring back at him. None of those were particularly interesting as what grabbed Sparky¡¯s attention were the shiny aluminum bat behind them and the cheap, dented flip phone resting alongside it. Score. Sparky swept both up without hesitation, bat in one hand as he rushed up the stairs toward the roof as quickly as he could. He opened the stolen flip-phone halfway up the flight, intent on using it for a quick rescue only for something else to crash his mood. The smile plastered on his face rapidly turned back downwards into another frown as he tried to recall the number of the person who could actually save his ass, only for him to draw a blank. What was it again? God, he gave it to me on Monday. Racking his already rattled brain for Greg¡¯s number would have been hard enough already, Sparky realized with an audible groan, if the blond hadn¡¯t gotten a new number along with his new phone after all the chaos of the bombings. Memorizing a brand-new number hadn¡¯t been the most important thing on his mind, anyway. I¡¯ve been saying this way too much but - ¡°Fuck!¡± The word was repeated several times more as Sparky was met with another obstacle in his path to freedom, this time in the form of an uncooperative door. ¡°Can I get a fucking break?¡± he hissed to himself, as he threw his shoulder against it. ¡°Just one?¡± It took another hard shoulder tackle but the roof door gave way and Sparky stumbled out into the night, barely catching himself from sprawling to the floor. ¡°Finally.¡± The word came out in a massive sigh, Sparky taking a deep breath of the night air immediately after. Gotta try and see if I can find my way out of here. While the breath of fresh air calmed his nerves somewhat, it didn¡¯t do much favors for his mood as Sparky found himself cursing the world and his luck just seconds after the fact. Peering over the edge of the roof in search of a working fire escape had turned up nothing but half-wrecked and dangerously rusted metal, the remainder of which was likely to kill him with a several-story fall if he tried to use it to even get halfway down. Old-ass fucking safety hazard building. Sparky bit his lip in irritation at one more problem in his path, the taste of his wounds filling his mouth as saliva mixed with nearly-dried blood. Calling 911? Maybe¡­ He considered the idea for a second before shaking his head at the pointless thought. Nah, the cops¡­ Everybody knows Kaiser¡¯s got the cops in his pocket. Might as well try my luck diving off the roof rather than trust those bastards. The teenager bit down a curse as he tried to use his brain again, pushing past the fog in his thoughts and constantly-growing headache. Come on, c¡¯mon, you know it. 5-0-8-4-7-4¡­ As he punched in each number into the flip-phone, the next one seemed to come instinctively, and by the time he had reached the tenth digit, Sparky could only hold his breath as the phone began to ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And¡­ "Hello?¡± Amber eyes widened. ¡°Greggreg, brah, it¡¯s Sparky. You gotta help! I¡¯m in seri-!¡± ¡°What? Hello? Slow down, slow down, one sec,¡± Greg replied back, the blond almost shouting as he interrupted his friend. ¡°Don''t hang up.¡± Relief flooded through Sparky as he heard his friend speak. His own voice came out hurriedly, equal parts rambling and pleading as he tried to say everything at once. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry, okay? I fucked up, I said stupid shit. Like, you have no idea how sorry I am, okay? It''s just, I-I-I-I¡¯m kinda in a thing right now and it¡¯s real b-¡± ¡°Ha! Got ya good! You¡¯re in my voicemail. The Greg-Meister is kinda busy right now but you know what to do after the beep.¡± Amber eyes blinked. ¡°Mother-¡± Beeeep. Lag 6.12 Lag 6.12 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "How badly do you want to die?" None of them answered the question. Not that he expected them to. Their responses really weren¡¯t necessary. Not yet, at least. He¡¯d burn it out of them. Hardkour made to step forward, tension in the air spiking as he did so. Heat wafted around his hands, the young cape about to spark his pyrokinesis to life only to pause barely a moment later. Pip. One eye was sent into a twitching fit as annoyance warred with anger.
Quest Gained! Those Wacky Nazis III: Enhanced Interrogation Interrogate the Empire through whatever means necessary. Objectives - Discover where the kids are being kept. [ ] - Do not kill the Empire attackers during this quest. [ ] Rewards: 5000 XP, $5000, + 2 Stat Points Bonus Objectives - ??? [ ]
Oh, come ooooooon, Greg groused to himself. I was just bluffing. I wasn¡¯t gonna kill them anyway. He gave a mental shrug after a second of thought. Like, not really. Just a little burning. Despite his mental dismissal, the quest window seemed to linger for a bit more than necessary, as if in doubt of his honesty. Alright, alright, I get it. No killing. One eye closed in a frustrated wince, the young cape began an attempt to calm himself. C¡¯mon, ease up, he told himself, doing his best to push his angry thoughts aside as he pulled on the calming mental balm he had grown used to. Calm it down. Don¡¯t kill them. The thought of how easy it would be flickered past his thoughts as a haze of red tinted his vision for a moment, a haze that had nothing to do with his slowly healing wounds. You need them to talk. You need them to tell you things. You need them. The teenager¡¯s eyes flickered, and slit-like pupils eased into something approaching humanity. Alive. He let out a hiss of air. ¡°SooOoooo¡­¡± Hardkour flinched as he paused to cough and clear his throat, the single fist he raised to his mouth splattered with blood after a second. His eye twitched as he stared daggers at the Empire Capes, not even glancing down at the bloody phlegm on his gloved hand. ¡°Sooo¡­,¡± The blond paused again to nod, voice finally easing it''s grating tone as he felt his mind and body actually begin an ardent retreat back to normal. ¡°Considering I wasn¡¯t raised in a barn and I don¡¯t just attack people out of frickin¡¯ nowhere without so much as a hello¡­¡± He paused his words as his tongue darted around his mouth, gloved fingers curling up to his palms, and noted with some annoyance that the changes were taking longer to retreat than he liked. ¡°I¡¯m gonna do the polite thing and introduce myself. Hey there, you can call me Hardkour. The group-formerly-known-as-the-ABB is under my protection.¡± None of the capes spoke, but both the tension in the air and their bodies spoke volumes for them. One of them, the shorter woman in the green-white costume and sculpted face mask with a similar coloring, was clearly edging closer to Krieg, her movements barely half-steps as she shifted towards the man standing several feet away. Hardkour¡¯s keen eyes narrowed as he caught sight of her, unable to avoid noticing how her fingers were splayed out in the black-clad cape¡¯s direction, the stoic man not even paying her attention as he stared forward silently. Greg felt the urge to bend over himself, fingers twitching slightly as he held himself back from cradling the slowly healing wounds marking his torso. His jaw clenched as the little scarlet numbers rained down the left edge of his vision, even as he kept his own eyes forward, straight and unblinking. -1 -1 -1 -1 -1 It was bad enough that he could literally feel and see himself bleeding out, but the sensation of the blood in his body constantly refilling itself in turn was even worse, somehow. He could only be thankful that the system didn¡¯t bother him with little blue numbers showing how much he was regenerating, as well. In fact, he really didn¡¯t want to put much more thought about where all that precious, precious blood was coming from, anymore than absolutely necessary. Note for later; Easy way to make money. Infinite blood bank. Trying to stall for a few more moments as Gamer¡¯s Mind worked it¡¯s magic, the teenage hero directed his gaze towards the two capes nearest him with a slight tilt of his head. Both of them males and a good bit older than the two women standing between and behind them, they were also the only parahumans that weren¡¯t complete unknowns to him. ¡°Krieg,¡± Hardkour began with a tilt of his head. I¡¯m gonna have to take you down first. ¡°I¡¯d say it¡¯s nice to finally meet you but honestly, it¡¯s... really not. More like a disappointment, really. You¡¯re not as scary as I thought.¡± You hit hard, though, and you¡¯re a guaranteed Brute. Smart, too. Hardkour made eye contact, or something close to that, with the Neo-Nazi cape wearing an entire Schutzstaffel uniform ¡ª trenchcoat, cap and iron cross necklace included ¡ª that was jet black from top to bottom. The only spot of color in the man¡¯s costume were the red lenses in his tight-fitting full-face gas mask, the enclosing helmet itself as black and soulless as the rest of Krieg¡¯s getup. All in all, the cape came off as rather frightening. Or at least he would have, if Greg could find it in him anymore to be scared of anything other than his mom in a bad mood. ¡°Before we do this, I gotta tell you that you pretty much look like a Goth C-3PO. You know, the one from Star Wars?¡± That was a lie. The cape looked more like a Nazi C-3PO but Greg doubted Krieg would consider that anywhere as much of an insult. It didn''t matter either way as Krieg didn¡¯t visibly respond to the joke. From what the teenager could feel on his own end, the Teutonic terror didn¡¯t particularly react internally either, his targeted [Taunt] basically sliding off the man¡¯s composure. Well, dang. Yeah, too composed to let something like that get to him. Definitely a bigger problem than Air Cat. His smile didn¡¯t waver an inch despite his disappointment. Still smiling brightly, Hardkour turned his attention over to Stormtiger, gaze not actually shifting much at all as he made sure to keep all four capes within his line of sight. ¡°Been a while, huh, Stormy?¡± Aerokinesis. Mine is stronger, but my tricks¡­ Nah, my tricks aren¡¯t on his level yet. The tiger-masked cape grunted, fingers curled to claws at his sides in a slightly bent stance nearly identical to Hardkour¡¯s own. ¡°A couple weeks, about.¡± The teenager nodded, thinking about just how often he had run into this one particular cape above all others. Just the odds alone¡­ Hardkour took a breath as he pushed that thought away, leaving it as another thought to tackle when he had a free moment. One eyebrow raised, he shot Stormtiger a curious look. ¡°Didn¡¯t you try to take me out last time we met too?¡± Shaker. Not a Brute. One hard hit takes him out of the fight. Before the Nazi cape could respond with anything more than a grunt, Greg spoke up again with a smile on his face. ¡°I tried to kill you too, didn¡¯t I?¡± Gotta shake him up. His smile widened, showing a shrinking set of sharp teeth that had yet to shift back entirely. ¡°Said I¡¯d fry you up real good, right?¡± Make him angry and I got this in the bag already. ¡°Yeah,¡± Stormtiger growled, the rumbling of his voice actually able to be felt from as far away as Hardkour currently stood. The man edged even further forward, shoulders hunched as he stood in a form that could only be described as bestial. "That ya did." "Kinda wish I finished the job, but anyway, Stormy ¡ª can I call you Stormy? Don¡¯t answer. I¡¯m gonna call you Stormy ¡ª Stormy, this is like the third time we''ve met, huh?¡± Hardkour spoke with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to seem unbothered, casual even. More like the fourth but he doesn¡¯t know that. ¡°Look at us, man, who would have thought?¡± "Not me," the older cape admitted, not relaxing his combat-ready stance even as he responded with a curt nod. ¡°Definitely not me.¡± ¡°Not me, either,¡± the teenager shot back. He knows I can move fast enough to get the jump on him. ¡°Honestly, if I had felt like it, you¡¯d be pushing up daisies. Be real easy, too.¡± Don¡¯t show off how much faster I got. Not yet. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. He held up a raised hand, Krieg¡¯s gaze following his raised limb. ¡°You know, one hard punch and I¡¯d probably take your jaw right off. Hell¡­¡± Greg cast a surveying glance at all the capes, looking at them as if seeing them for the first time. Blue eyes darted from side to side, irises flaring to life with a cobalt light four different times in quick succession. Analyze
Krieg Lvl 35 Villain - Empire 88 Title: War Is A Force HP: 380/380 Status: Calm Traits: Inertial Mitigation/Enhancement Krieg is one of the three lieutenants of the Empire 88, holding equal influence with Purity and Hookwolf, but possessing more intelligence, rationality and belief in the ideals of the Empire 88 than the other two combined. He enjoys Death Metal, spicy foods, and early morning calisthenics. Also, you know, murder.
Stormtiger Lvl 30(+) Villain - Empire 88 Title: Razor Wind HP: 450/450 Status: Angry, Eager Traits: Aerokinetic V A cape with nearly as much of a hard-on for violence as his friend and boss Hookwolf, Stormtiger loves the Empire for all the chances it gives him to flex his powers against other capes. Also, wants you dead pretty badly because your continued existence and his part in it has gotten him in trouble.
Nordwind Lvl 25 Villain - Empire 88 HP: Status: Traits:
Impuls Lvl 15 Villain - Empire 88 HP: Status: Traits:
What the hell powers are those last two? The blond thought with a confused blink as he received the results of his quick [Analyze].. I mean, I know what the words mean by themselves but together¡­ huh. I get Stormtiger and Krieg at least. They¡¯re supposed to keep me from using my speed and strength but¡­ the other two? ¡°Dang. All of you seem pretty, pretty¡­ uh, what¡¯s the word?¡± Thermal-Inversion Enhancile? ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right¡­squishy, ¡± Hardkour continued, a wide grin accompanying the emphasized word. That sounds like she absorbs heat to get stronger, but how does the boost work? "Just look at me, honestly. Stormy blasted me though a couple buildings and I''m pretty much okay." Is it massive? Weak? Over time? How much heat? And how does inversion work there? He pushed out a mocking cackle of a laugh, fighting the urge to groan in frustration even as he played up his reactions. "For you guys, I probably wouldn''t even have to try all that hard." He let himself trail off as he squeezed five fingers of an upraised hand into a right fist, and took careful note how each of the capes responded; Stormtiger and the woman in the gray/blue costume both shifted into a more aggressive stance while the woman in green next to her took an unwilling step back. Krieg, though¡­ Krieg just stared. Wait¡­ An odd thought popped into Greg¡¯s mind as he pulled his eyes away from Krieg and allowed his gaze to drift from person to person. Why aren¡¯t they moving? The four had remained in that odd formation from the beginning, Stormtiger and Krieg in the front with the two girl noobs in the back, each of them within a few meters of the other. It¡¯s been a couple of minutes. What are they planning? Surprise attack, sure, but they haven¡¯t pulled anything since then. His eyes narrowed as he tried to piece together what their intentions were. I mean, stalling I get, but if they¡¯re trying to put me down, they could at least try, right? ¡°This fight is not in your favor,¡± Greg pulled himself from his thoughts as his gaze snapped to the cape in the modified SS uniform. The man spoke up for the first time, voice a grim and somewhat husky sound that rang with a slight German accent. ¡°We, as well as the larger Empire, have numbers. We have resources and, of course¡­¡± Krieg¡¯s hands unclasped for the first time, hanging loose at his sides, ¡°...we have experience.¡± ¡°And?¡± Hardkour tilted his head. This is new. ¡°What are you getting at?¡± One of Krieg¡¯s hands went to his back as he held the other out in front of him, palm facing upwards. ¡°This is an invitation for you to leave behind the sinking ship of the ABB and let the rats drown.¡± His voice wafted towards Greg, pose and tone expressing a poise that rang with tight control. ¡°This is an invitation for you to join a group more appropriate for your talents, appropriate for your heritage. The Kaiser wishes for you to join him personally for a meeting, simply to discuss how best to nurture your growth.¡± The boy couldn¡¯t help it. He snorted out loud, actually confused at those words and blinked in pure confusion. What are these guys on right now?¡°... okay, but this is like one hundred percent a trap, so I don¡¯t get how you thought that would work.¡± ¡°This is no trap,¡± Krieg responded calmly. ¡°You attacked me,¡± Greg enunciated the word carefully, almost like he was speaking to a toddler. ¡°Literally smashed me through a city block. How is that supposed to be an invitation? ¡°Stormtiger simply reacted a bit too eagerly,¡± the wannabe SS officer said, voice tightening ever-so-slightly as he gave a nod toward his somewhat-sheepish looking teammate. ¡°After all, were you not attempting to run us off the road?¡± ¡°...You¡¯re villains.¡± Krieg was silent for a moment, the man staring at the younger cape through the red lenses of his mask before allowing himself a tight nod. Then he spoke. ¡°Mass murder.¡± Greg blinked at Krieg¡¯s non-sequitur, the words coming out of nowhere for him. ¡°Sorry, what?¡± ¡°Involuntary manslaughter. Destruction of property. Reckless endangerment. Evading arrest. Malicious vigilantism. And the assault of two Protectorate heroes, if I¡¯m correct. These are the current charges the PRT has against you and I believe this is just a short summary.¡± Krieg tilted his head to the side, body shifting so that he seemed to be looking down at Greg, even from so far away. ¡°If we are villains, quite frankly, I must ask what you believe yourself to be.¡± Okay, fuck this guy. A pair of bright blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. ¡°Look, I know what I am. I also know that I don¡¯t want to talk to your boss, and why the hell do you think I would ever say yes? I repeat, why do you think I would ever join you sickos? Hell, you showed up with two noobs ready to ambush me!¡± His eyes flickered over to the women in question, gaze rapidly switching between both of them in quick succession. Lower levels than Krieg and Stormtiger. Question both of them. Hardkour lingered on the timid woman in the green mask a bit longer than the other, her frail frame obvious even under the layered cloak of a costume the Empire had put her in. Her powers might be strong, but she¡­ She definitely isn¡¯t, the blond thought to himself. She¡¯ll break easy. Use her for answers after Krieg, Stormtiger and the other one are down. A moment later, he visibly shook his head, a vague snort of disapproval leaving his mouth before he spoke again. ¡°Scratch that, I don¡¯t care what you think. You¡¯re stalling and I know it. I just want answers. If I don¡¯t get them, if you don¡¯t tell me what I want... I¡¯m breaking bones.¡± Stormtiger¡¯s response came in the form of a humorless laugh, the man¡¯s arms trembling slightly as he held himself back. "Shut the hell up, brat. You¡¯d never even get a chance. Either take this offer or leave it.¡± ¡°I already told you, I¡¯m not joining your Neo-Nazi weirdo club!¡± Greg shot back with a mocking laugh of his own. ¡°Now, answer my question or I¡¯ll turn you into a Fire-Stormtiger.¡± Ughhh, that was terrible. The tiger-mask cape growled again, muscles twitching from sheer rage. ¡°You know, if I¡¯d have known how annoying you¡¯d be, I¡¯d have splattered you all over that alley that first night I met you." He was right, and Greg wasn¡¯t going to even try and deny it to himself. It was more obvious than anything, really. A level 5 who could barely take a gunshot and only fought up close going up against a hardened and experienced cape with blasts that could rip open a car? That would be an absolute slaughter. But, that was then. This was now. "I don''t know. You seem to hit like a pussy so I kinda doubt you¡¯d pull it off," Hardkour shot back with another open-mouthed smile, grin widening as he felt his [Taunt] take hold. ¡°No Purity to beg for mercy for you this time, kitty-cat.¡± ¡°Beg!?¡± The chain-wearing cape curled his fingers into claws as he yelled the word with all the force of a war cry. Bingo. Krieg¡¯s gaze slid to his male accomplice, body language showing a lack of total composure for the first time that night as he tried to warn the man back. ¡°Stormtiger, the plan!¡± The black-clad Nazi¡¯s shout came too late, not that the other cape would have listened anyway. Stormtiger was already in motion with one hand outstretched, the grimace of a vicious scowl visible beneath his mask. ¡°Fuck the plan! I can take him!¡± There were no more words to be had as a blast of weaponized air launched from his palm, a massive translucent sphere on a direct path towards the teenage cape. Lag 6.13 Lag 6.13 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? ¡°Fuck the plan! I can take him!¡± If he had the time, Hardkour would have laughed right in his face. Instead, the blond jumped back far, flinging himself backwards twenty or thirty feet to land back on the street again. He touched down and snapped his head back up, just in time to spot the mass of roiling air Stormtiger launched his way suddenly veer off. Greg darted away again, leaping back several more feet to make sure the blast wouldn¡¯t follow his movements. Huh. His concerns went unrealized as the air bomb swung wide to the right, the entire thing smashing into a parked car with metal-shredding force. The turbine-like roar the air bomb gave off as it flew came to a sudden end, every other noise dwarfed as the sedan went up like a bomb. Hardkour barely had the time to raise his eyebrows, half a second to take in the raw power. An instant later, Stormtiger let out another scream at the top of his lungs. What the- Greg winced and gritted his teeth as the scream actually impacted him with physical force, a wide-ranging - yet somewhat weak - roar of Aerokinesis strong enough to lift him off his feet for a second or two. The shirtless villain followed up the roar of anger by launching another large air claw from his other hand, barely a second of windup before it was airborne. This one¡­ Hardkour felt it before he saw it coming. Aerokinesis was a special sort-of power, different from Pyrokinesis in a basic and fundamental way. Pyrokinesis was something he could turn on and off, a hose of power that sprayed fiery hot death at high speeds whenever he let the nozzle loose. Aerokinesis, though¡­ It was entirely different. Air was all around him. All the time. Flames, he had to call up and let go. Flames existed around him when something was set on fire; that was when he could feel it. Air? Greg couldn¡¯t keep himself from feeling it anymore than he could keep himself from seeing when he opened his eyes. Hell, half the time when he spoke, he had to be careful not to let the wind propel his words like a carnival barker on steroids. Instinctive and unintentional use of Aerokinesis like that was terrifyingly easy now, using so little mana for something so small that he literally didn''t even notice the drain. At first, doing the booming hero voice had taken some effort, an actual flexing of his power, but now, it just seemed to happen without a thought whenever he put on the costume and took on that identity. Sure, it was cool as hell, but deepening and altering his voice like that was firmly reserved for when he was in his White Knight costume. Using powers that belonged to his other identity was almost off-limits so that he could keep them seperate for as long as he could, even in his own mind, but Aerokinesis did its best to make that effectively impossible with the way it worked. Even now, he could feel it at work. The rents in the air stood out to him like the tactile equivalent of neon signs in the night, the paths where Stormtiger¡¯s air claws passed by so glaringly obvious to his senses they might as well have been glowing. Another one. Said senses stood out to him again as he felt Stormtiger prepare several more blasts, eyes widening slightly as he saw them coming. He tensed slightly as [Danger Sense] buzzed a redundant warning. Faster. It was about twice as fast as the last and that one had already been a good deal faster than the one Stormtiger had managed to land on him minutes earlier. In fact, it was so fast that the teenager almost found himself taking a slash of metal-rending wind head-on. Almost. Instinct nearly had him pull on the pool of gold light inside him the instant he felt it coming but he pushed down the urge as he clenched both fists tight. Instead, Hardkour forced himself into motion in a harsh swerve, body jerking in the opposite direction without leaving another second to waste. A moment later, the powerful bursts of air screamed past his head, the roar of wind overpowering Stormtiger¡¯s own belligerent vocalizations. Can¡¯t let him push me back like this, Greg thought in a hurry, his plan for focusing on Krieg becoming less and less likely with every passing second. Speaking of Krieg¡­ Wait. The blond ducked another air knife, teeth grit, eyes narrowed and - Wait, what¡¯re they doing? From the corner of his eye, he could see the other Empire capes still maintaining their same position, neither Krieg or Nordwind moving an inch as the other woman stood between them. Her hands glowing with a soft milky light as she rested them on both of their shoulders, it was clear that whatever the green cape was doing wasn¡¯t going to help him out. ¡°Wha-¡± Greg bit his tongue with a wince as he felt the air scream again, the sensation filling his thoughts at the same time his head buzzed with a warning of danger, the signal as irritatingly obnoxious as usual. Obnoxious or not, the pulse of [Danger Sense] rang a second too late. ¡°Hngggh,¡± A slightly strained noise left his mouth as he stumbled slightly from the hit, a sound of pain more associated with bumping into a door or a mild headache. Not something like a subsonic bolt of condensed air tearing through his sleeve and across his forearm with the force of a bullet. - 72 Bright blue eyes shot over towards Stormtiger¡¯s direction. A half-second later, his eyebrows shot up as those same eyes went wide once again. Without pausing to think or process, Greg simply moved. Buzzing blades of tightly packed air flew towards him ¡ª each one just a little smaller than the last, their speed increasing the smaller they became. Stormtiger hurled them through the air in an unfocused barrage, nothing as pointless as aim even a consideration as he carpet bombed the street like a madman.
Hardkour blurred from place to place, jumping like a rabbit as he avoided Stormtiger¡¯s air bombs. Each one pockmarked the asphalt where they landed, exploding with the force of land mines and with the frequency of a hail of bullets. Where they didn''t strike the ground with explosions of gravel, they pulverized walls, grass, cars and sidewalk alike with the force of grenades. ¡°Shit!¡± The curse leapt from his mouth almost unwittingly as he quickly jerked his head to the side in a sharp dodge. The move was perfectly-timed, aided by both Danger Sense and the instinctive air sense that came with his advancing skill in Aerokinesis. The teenager could only thank both of them for saving him from a sudden right-side-of-face-ectomy. Acting on instinct, Hardkour¡¯s hand snapped up to palm the side of his head even as he scrambled around Stormtiger¡¯s barrage. Roaming fingers confirmed what he already knew a short moment later, as he neither felt nor saw any sign of a wound. Regardless, he wasn¡¯t much happier. Okay, his teeth met in a hard grimace, so we¡¯re playing it like that? One eye twitching from annoyance, the blond¡¯s free hand twitched at his side, the temptation of pulling out the chipped katana in his inventory a powerful one. No. No. Greg shook the thought away a half second later as he darted past several parked cars to bound himself off the wall of a building. Even for intimidation purposes, the battered sword he carried around just wasn¡¯t worth it for a fight like this. No¡­ let¡¯s try something else. Hardkour let out a quick breath, focusing his gaze on his current attacker. He knew plenty about the shirtless Neo-Nazi in front of him but reading about Stormtiger was one thing. Aerokinesis; usually expressed in the form of explosive air bombs. His wiki said that much and a bit more on the cape, info like the fact that his aerokinesis was strong enough to deflect bullets and that the guy could kinda-sorta-maybe fly with it. Watching Stormtiger¡¯s fights online was completely different. While he wasn¡¯t the blur of motion that Krieg was or the shining pillar of light that Purity came off as, the man still managed to be impressive on his own. Hell, he was rarely caught on camera for long, given that his powers were so¡­ explosive. However, the little that was seen of him made it clear that his abilities were powerful and not something easily beaten. Facing Stormtiger¡¯s powers in action was¡­ something else entirely. Stormtiger¡¯s powerful and over-muscled arms pumped like mad as the cape slashed pressurized air in Hardkour¡¯s direction, seemingly uncaring of his teammate¡¯s refusal to assist. In fact, the cape showed nothing but anger fueled by eagerness, all of that wrapped around a single-minded desire to end a teenager¡¯s life. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Eyes narrowed as he shot Stormtiger a piercing glare, the young cape only had one thought on his mind as he rushed forward, dancing around baseball sized air-bombs with a grace bordering on inhuman. No more Mr. Nice Guy. "DIE!" Another blast rocketed from Stormtiger¡¯s open hand with that scream, the Nazi¡¯s furious eyes boring into Greg¡¯s own as the cape cleared twenty feet in an effortless leap. Passing over the air mass, the teenager twisted his body in mid-air and frowned slightly as he caught sight of the angry yet determined grimace on Stormtiger¡¯s face that had yet to fall away. No point fighting air with air. Still in motion, the teenager in the ninja costume brought up his open palms as he soared forward in mid-air. Stormtiger raised his own hands to release another set of his patented air-claws and at the same moment, small wicks of bright orange flames flickered to life in Hardkour¡¯s gloved palms. Let¡¯s try it with fire. ¡°Hey, Windkitty!¡± Greg flicked a single wrist forward, the small tongue of flame in his left hand roaring to life as it shot out from Greg¡¯s palm and rapidly grew. I really should workshop some jokes before a fight¡­ ¡°Eat this!¡± The cat-masked cape barely had a moment to react as a firebomb struck the ground just in front of him, exploding past the size of a beach ball in an instant. The explosion wasn''t too large, nor was it overwhelmingly loud, but it was undeniably strong. Strong enough to send a grown man flying, at least. Unfortunately, Stormtiger was more experienced and capable than most grown men, at least when it came to cape fights. Hardkour simply narrowed his eyes at Stormtiger as the man stood with both arms raised in front of his face in an ¡°X¡±. He stood almost untouched in the middle of the street, entirely unbothered by the heat or the flames licking at the asphalt around him. Greg barely had to even look to realize why, both of his senses confirming what he already suspected. Just barely visible in front of the man was a flickering wall of barely-visible air, the man having blunted almost all the damage with it. It was an expected move, especially from a man who often used air to block bullets in their path. Even then¡­ It didn¡¯t matter much to him, really. His other hand shot forward with another expression of pyrokinesis. With a sound like rushing air, heat roared from Hardkour¡¯s open palm, the dimly-lit backstreet giving way to the bright light of a plume of raw fire. Without wasting another moment, Greg rushed forward and jumped through the fire , heat of the flames barely even singing his clothes at the speed he was moving. His eyes locked on to Stormtiger, the man wearing a look of frightened surprise as he jumped away from the fire wall, still keeping his own wall of wind going as protection. Hardkour touched down in a crouch, one unnecessary fist on the ground to steady himself, while Stormtiger was still mid-leap, intent on dodging the flames. The blond burst forward the instant his boots made contact with the ground, not holding back nearly as much on his speed this time as he rushed up to his hapless opponent. As Stormtiger''s boots met the asphalt, the cape barely had a moment to react as a figure blurred up directly in front of him. He blinked. Shock and confusion was clear on the face of the E88 cape as the black-clad cape appeared in front of him, so unprepared for the sudden burst of speed he didn¡¯t even have time to bolster his defenses. "What th-" The sentence shifted into a pained groan as a gloved hand pierced his aerokinetic shield like a knife through warm butter, five fingers like steel trapping his forearm in a vice grip.
Aerokinesis (Adept) Lvl Up! (19 ¡ú 20)
"This one¡¯s for the kidnapping." Stormtiger swung his free hand forward with a grunt, palm roiling with two or three half-collected and semi-translucent blades of compressed air even as he instinctively tried to pull himself free from the young Brute''s unyielding grip. In another blur of motion, his other hand was trapped as well, the readied claws dispersing into nothing as his five fingers were locked in a tight grip with another gloved set. Stormtiger grit his teeth from effort and sudden worry as he took stock of his position with quick jerks of his head. Both his limbs were held hostage in hands that could dent metal, hands that simply refused to give, no matter how hard he pulled. "This one¡¯s for the surprise attack." His pale face whitened even further as the bloodied cape holding both his forearms stared up at him wearing a grin that Stormtiger normally only saw reflected in his opponent''s eyes. His befuddled expression almost immediately shifted to plain horrified realization as Hardkour''s restraining grip tightened enough for both his wrists to release uncomfortable noises in pointless resistance. ¡°Waitwaitwaitwaa-" CRACK. "-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" A sudden sickening crunch and both hands hung limply on the villain¡¯s raised arms, the action itself occuring in one single painful instant. The muscular Neo-Nazi stumbled back on unsteady legs as he stared in pure shock at his useless wrists, mouth wide open as he creamed bloody murder in a pitch a man his size should be incapable of. "And¡­ Well, I guess this one''s for making me bleed my own blood." Stormtiger didn''t even register the words. In fact, the still-screaming man didn''t even look up before his chest buckled with another loud crack as a single foot made contact with his torso in the form of a powerful Spartan kick. For an instant, Greg could see the villain''s expression shift from one of raw pain into blissful unconsciousness, before Stormtiget flew back from the force, his body sent skidding back across the ground. One down. A familiar pulse at the base of his neck urged him to move, a warning throb that ran from his neck all the way down to the base of his spine with immediate intensity. This time, Greg didn¡¯t hesitate to listen. He moved. To his left, the ground exploded from the force of a powerful crash landing, the asphalt cratering somewhat from the impact. Hardkour didn¡¯t have to bother to steady himself, Surface Adhesion keeping him steady but the teenager still took a sudden step back, eyes flickering between the new cape in front of him to the unmoving Krieg and the equally still Impuls with her hand still on his shoulder. His gut warned him that the black-clad Nazi was up to something and his brain only made that gut feeling worse with what he knew of Krieg¡¯s powers. The man was a monster to fight with the way he could resist and deflect things. Not just hits; things. Almost everything had kinetic energy and the man could keep it all at bay. Greg was drawn away from his wary gaze at the stoic Nazi as the cape closest to him pulled his focus. With an angry roar far more high-pitched than Stormtiger¡¯s, the figure in the center of the new pothole made herself heard. ¡°Fucking hell!¡± She screamed the last syllable with a forced masculine grunt, one that didn''t match her curves or anything else about her looks. The female cape rose from her half-crouch in the catered asphalt, arms out at her sides as the scant remnants of Hardkour''s firebomb burned to nothing around her. A second later, both her hands clenched into tight fists and, to Greg''s slight surprise, his mana-born fire flickered out instantly, embers vanishing to nothing immediately in front of his eyes. The woman in blue and gray - Nordwind, he recalled quickly - took in a deep breath, chest and shoulders rising with the motion as her gray hood fell back, exposing her white-blue facemask. She exhaled. Greg tensed where he stood, eyes narrowed as two simultaneous shudders ran up and down his spine. One from Danger Sense and one, far more common. With a sound like cracked glass, the crater Nordwind stood in was surrounded entirely with a layer of white frost, icy fractals appearing ex nihilo between eye-blinks. Similar patterns of ice raced up the arms and legs of her costume, the noise repeating itself several times in a second until it stopped completely as the woman''s exposed lips turned a distinct blue. Those same lips turned up in a vicious grin as a pair of grey eyes turned on him. Oh. Thermal-Inversion Kinetic Enhancile. Greg''s head bobbed up and down in an unintended nod as something in his brain finally clicked together, context meeting definition in a blast of awareness. So, that¡¯s what that means. He only had a moment to think about that new information as Nordwind roared again and in a blur of motion, she jumped. Announcement Hey guys, I''ve been a bit out of it for the last few days. Really since before thanksgiving honestly. have had several doctors appointments one after the other. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.Just had my last one yesterday. honna have to get my tonsils and a bunch of inner throat flesh (idk the term) removed. It''s not my uvula by the way. I asked and they made clear and they weren''t talking about that. Just like a bunch of extra flesh in my airway. On top of that, my tonsils are so massive, i have like a third the throat/air space i should have. Imma get back to writing now though. sorry for the delay. Lag 6.14 Lag 6.14 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Hardkour felt his entire body tense, every muscle under his skin seizing and tightening at once. His breath hitched in his lungs as the urge to breathe in took a step back to simply reacting. At the exact time, his eyes widened suddenly before quickly narrowing a half-instant later. For a moment, he was nearly a statue.
Breath-Holding (25 ¡ú 26)
Then he wasn''t. A grin overtook his mouth, the expression growing visibly wider as he took two deliberate steps to the side. One singular thought was on his mind as he turned his entire body with him. Finally. His eyes passed over Nordwind as he easily avoided her mid-leap, the woman already rocketing past him. The confident sneer on her face fell apart under Hardkour''s gaze as he simply side-stepped her attempted pounce, a raised foot from him enough to send her spiraling out of control completely. The new cape scrambled as she stumbled into a near-faceplant, Nordwind falling forward to meet the ground with both hands in front of her as she caught herself from doing exactly that. The woman landed entirely on all fours, her body in something of a push-up position, but Greg barely paid her any attention as he focused his gaze at the man in black still standing several meters away. He tilted his head, mindfully aware of the constricting sensation pressing down on and around him. And there''s Krieg doing his thing. He dropped his eyes back down to the fuming form of Nordwind as she pushed herself up to her feet, hands in front of her as layers of frost materialized on her knuckles. Hardening her face back into a glare, the young woman tightened those same ice-covered hands into fists and she swung at Greg again. And again. And again. Wow. Hardkour avoided each blow with sharp, but deliberate motions, each dodge accompanied with a single step back and away from the Empire cape. Wow, he repeated to himself again. She is really not good at this. Even with Krieg hampering his movements and breathing, her blows were easy enough to step away from, and that was without using much speed at all. Every punch she threw was obviously powerful but at the same time clearly inexperienced, even to his own eyes.
Resistance: Cold (8 ¡ú 9)
Greg shuddered slightly, his attention drawn away from his opponent''s technique as goosebumps prickled across his body, the intensity of the cold rising even further. At the same time, even more lines of frost wove their way up Nordwind''s forearms in tighter and denser patterns with audible crackling noises, the blue of her arms hidden almost entirely by fractal-patterned white. At the same time, ice radiated across the asphalt and spread with every step the cape took towards him, leaving the ground slick with frost and the air bitterly sharp. Great. Greg suppressed the urge to cough as the words almost completely refused to leave his mouth, despite his efforts. Air felt like soup in his lungs, muscles tight as he did his best to keep his movements under control. To make things even worse, the iced-over ground threatened to trip him up at the same time as snares of frost burst from the ground in multiple attempts to crawl up his legs. Nordwind charged forward again, fist pulled back for what Hardkour could tell to be another combo. The teenage cape simply shook his head as he dodged her first amateur blow. More basic than basic. He stepped in, one arm up as he quickly parried another punch with his forearm. A moment later, both fists blurred into motion.
Parry (17 ¡ú 18)
"Nnngghahhh!" Nordwind stumbled back once more with another sound of pain on her lips, eight blows to the head in a quarter as many seconds doing just enough damage to rattle her super-tough skull. Hardkour simply watched, blue eyes flashing for a half-second before they returned to normal almost immediately. Hm. So that Enhanced Strength and Durability is still there. Huh. He clicked his tongue with clear annoyance. Yeah, I don''t have time to wear her down. It''s not my time being wasted here. As if on cue, Nordwind stepped forward to face him again, the amateur cape simply shaking her head as she got back in her amateur stance, both hands raised in a bad mimicry of a boxer''s. Greg took that as his cue. Hardkour shot forward, heavy fist swinging on a direct path to the woman''s right side and... missed? Huh. His blow went wide as Nordwind dodged with a sharp slant to the opposite side, swinging forward with a blow of her own.
-45 -18 -11 -8
Resistance: Cold (9¡ú 11) + 1 VIT (204 ¡ú 205)
The blond grunted slightly as her fist impacted his stomach, a sensation like several knives in his chest following behind a cannonball of raw force. He jerked back, teeth grit tight and stared down at himself with a slight wince as a layer of frost spread across his torso. Hardkour let out another involuntary grunt as the sudden movement only tore further at his skin, shards of ice from Nordwind''s momentary touch stabbing deep into and past his still-healing wounds. Okay, dumb move. Dumb move. Don''t let her touch you. Still, he didn''t falter. Hardkour tilted his head as Nordwind''s fist swung by again, and suppressed yet another grunt as frost stung at the left side of his face from the narrow miss. She swung again and Greg retaliated with speed she couldn''t match the moment she neared him. Bashing her fist away with his forearm, the vigilante lunged forward and into his attacker.
- 2 - 2 - 1 - 1 - 1
Resistance: Cold (11 ¡ú 12)
The teenager shrugged off the pain that was Nordwind''s ice, ignoring the sensation of jagged barbs of ice as they grew into his arm. It hurt, slightly, but not enough to bother him. Pain was an afterthought at this point, and when it wasn''t, it was just a reason to fight harder to put down whatever made him hurt in the first place. It was for this reason that Greg Veder wore a grin as he struck out with a heavy punch that found its mark in Nordwind''s solar plexus. The moment she staggered backwards clutching her chest, he shot forward once again and smashed the hardest part of his elbow into the side of her face. His grin grew larger across his face as he heard a pained groan from his opponent as she went down once again. "That enough for you yet? I got plenty more. Just let me kn-" Greg blinked, the words hitching in his throat as he felt his lungs tighten again. The blond raised one eyebrow as he shot a look down down at the groaning villain. He frowned a moment later, both eyes narrowing as he raised his gaze. I swear to god¡­ Blue eyes promised the silent figure a good deal of pain in return as he focused his eyes on the slowly-advancing Krieg still a good distance away. The man did well to mask his movements, avoiding any visible motion when Greg''s attention strayed anywhere near him. All of it was probably an attempt to avoid a direct attack, but Greg could see him. He knew exactly what Krieg was doing. Even more than that, from the pressure on his lungs and the tightness in his limbs, he could feel it. I know your game, man. A growl came from a few feet away as Nordwind shot back to her feet and lunged once again at her expectant opponent. "Y-you really should give up," Greg snarked through tight lungs, ducking aside another set of punches with an easy grace. "Make me!" "... ''kay." Greg moved, clearing meters in a blurred instant. Suddenly, before the wannabe supervillainess could properly raise her guard, she found herself staring into the blank yet hungry eyes of her teenage opponent. "How''s..." Nordwind''s eyes couldn''t even track him, barely having time to even shift all the way down as the teenager rushed past her flimsy attempt to block. Fist already rushing upwards, Greg didn''t bother to hold back. You can take it. "This?"
+ 1 STR (224 ¡ú 225)
Hitting her jaw was like punching raw metal; Nordwind''s durability was that impressive. That was the only reason her head stayed attached to the rest of her body when his fist struck home, especially as the force of the blow was enough to lift the hooded cape into the air. Greg''s eyes didn''t leave her until her flight came to a sudden end as she crashed face-first into the ground and even then, not until she let out a groan of pain as she lay on the asphalt clutching her now-bleeding nose. The teenage cape lowered his hand, a single breath escaping his lips in a short, terse exhale. He raised an eyebrow, gaze drifting from Nordwind to the still-silent Krieg. They held eye contact as Greg took several quick steps back, the pressure on his chest easing slightly the farther away he got. Not daring to take the risk, Hardkour made sure to keep his eyes locked firmly onto Krieg as the blond took in a deep breath. He didn''t bother to inhibit his Aerokinesis this time, the overactive power actually assisting him as it helped funnel an extra helping of sorely-needed fresh air to his aching lungs.
Aerokinesis (Adept) (20 ¡ú 21)
Finally¡­ "Fuck you!" Greg''s attention turned back to the irritated woman as she burst to her feet again, having brushed off the blow that had sent her off her feet in seconds. Inwardly shaking his head, he dodged a large spike of ice moments before it burst out from under his feet. The ice growth shot forward and past him, a jagged line of meter-tall frost jutting from the ground at speeds that just barely managed to stay on the safe side of school-zone legal. Nordwind roared again as ice formed across her upper limbs again, layers and layers of frost quickly solidifying before his eyes into translucent gauntlets of ice on her fists and all the way up to her otherwise slender forearms. He fought the urge to frown, unsure what to expect. Do those¡­ Do they actually make her stronger or tougher? Or is this like an intimidation thing?. Without giving him another second to think, Nordwind lunged at Hardkour in a blur of motion. Really? He scoffed to himself as he casually dodged a punch from an ice-covered fist that was noticeably slower than her last. She swung again and met empty air, raging with a grunt. Faster than she could even track, Greg had moved to her other side, twisting as he launched several well-placed hits to her open torso. He sprang forward, leaping off his back foot the moment she fully turned to face him, and threw his entire weight behind his strike. His fist slammed into her side in the form of a punishing hook, the lack of give against his knuckles something he had come to expect from her durable body. Still, she only weighed so much. And she could still feel. Nordwind fell back in a hard pratfall, ass on ice with one hand at her side as she hissed the universal symphony of pain through her gritted teeth.. Yeah, smart move, Nordy. Give up more speed just to keep not hitting me. One eyebrow raised as she leapt back up to her feet, Greg made to dodge back and out of her range as he had been doing for a while now, only to nearly freeze completely as a pulse ran down his neck. Instinct sent him forward instead of backward. Barely even thinking about his move, the teenage vigilante launched himself towards the charging Nordwind. A raised knee struck home into the Empire cape''s chest, hard enough to easily shatter bone on a normal person. The sound of cracking accompanied the impact as she fell back and to the ground with a harsh grunt. Nice trick. Hardkour peeked over his shoulder, nodding slightly as he spotted the sharp-looking stalagmite of ice that had erupted right behind him; the source of the cracking noise and clearly what Nordwind had planned to spear him with if he had jumped back. "You know w-what?" He began, voice labored and strained. Greg cleared his throat as Nordwind began to pick herself up again, doing his best to speak through lungs that felt waterlogged. "I thought you were kinda retarded but that wasn''t a bad move back there. With the feint and the ice thing. Pretty smart, honestly. Smartest move you''ve made yet."
+ 1 VIT (205 ¡ú 206) Taunt (19 ¡ú 20)
For some reason, she seemed to get even more annoyed at that. The next set of blows she threw seemed to say as much. He had to give it to her though, she knew how to throw a punch if nothing else. Thing was¡­ "GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!" Thing was, Nordwind clearly didn''t know how to do much else. Aggressive combos, sure, but her knowledge seemed to stop where her fists began. She was strong and fast, sure, but she really just didn''t know how to fight. The little bit of skill she had rested on the giant mountain that was her strength and speed, the two of those packaged right along with her super-tough nature as a Brute. Okay, Greg blinked as he silently dodged another cross before countering with a quick jab of his own. Pot calling the kettle black there. "You know, I read up a lot about the human body." He dodged her punch, avoiding the urge to catch her wrist and snap the limb despite the opportunity that was her overextended limb right there in front of him and all but begging to be abused. Greg shook the thought away, not really interested in seeing if he could regrow a frozen and shattered arm at the moment. Instead, he dodged again, ducking low and delivering four quick yet hard punches to Nordwind''s unguarded midsection. "You probably don''t care," he made a noncommittal noise from the side of his mouth as he danced around Nordwind''s continued attempts to actually hit him, "but I remember a lot of it too. I found out a lot about Brutes. Like, for example¡­" The temperature dropped further and a pair of rime-like greaves grew over Nordwind''s legs to accompany her icy gauntlets. She burst out with an awkward kick, a desperate attempt to hit him even once failing just as her other tries had as Hardkour simply dodged to the side and smashed yet another fist into her unprotected face.
Beginner Combat (20 ¡ú 21)
"Like, for example," he repeated again, forcing his labored voice even louder just to be heard over Nordwind''s groans. "Brutes, like you and me, tend to just be tougher humans. Usually, you know." He flashed the seething woman a patented "Fuck-You" smile, perfectly crafted to piss off it''s intended target. "I''M GONNA FUCKING END YOU!" It''s really too easy sometimes. He couldn''t even tell if that was his own work or [Taunt] kicking in anymore, not like it really mattered. "It means¡­" Greg darted past her as she charged towards him without restraint, leaving the woman somewhat confused until she spun around with a curse on her lips. "Little shi-" A heavy blow to her ear knocked the words from her mouth and sent the woman sprawling across the asphalt. "It means that they usually have the same weak points as normies." Nordwind rose again from the last hit, another rivulet of blood trailing from the side of her mouth to match the small stream already flowing from her nose. Red running down her face, the woman glared back at the teenager standing still across from her. Ice-blue eyes brimmed with rage as she tightened her fists at her sides and let out another grunt, this one of effort rather than pain. Rolling his eyes as he dodged past another spike of ice from the ground, Hardkour darted around her. Still growling, Nordwind whipped around and made to throw another uncoordinated punch... "Do." ...just in time to catch sight of the bottom of a blood-splattered boot. "Better!" Hardkour''s sole slammed into her face with little mercy, the force of it enough to launch Nordwind into another spin, this one out of her control and off her feet. This is a joke, he thought with a shake of his head as the woman fell back head over heels. Not a funny ha-ha joke, more like a... homeless guy named Rich. "And a lot like you, aren''t really all that tough." He smirked as he ribbed the woman but it was honestly impressive that with as many hits she had taken to the face, she was still in the fight with only a busted nose and lip to show for it. "At least, if you can figure out what they''re weak to." Nordwind really wasn''t weak at all, honestly. If anything, she was definitely stronger than him and definitely more durable, from the way her skin resisted his hits. Not anywhere near as fast, but enough to give Battery trouble, at least. As he spoke, Nordwind tried to rise again, but another boot to the face cut that short. "See, my point. Same weak spots as normies. Fact is, most Brutes aren''t even tougher to everything, really." He clicked his tongue as the Brute coughed on all fours, blood from her nose and mouth spilling onto the asphalt and staining her icy battleground. "Shut the fuck up," Nordwind retorted as her chest rose in hard pants, voice a cold growl as she quickly shot up from the ground with the dogged stamina that was often seen as common in so many Brutes. "You can''t even take one fucking hi-!" Greg stared back at her in smug silence as Nordwind staggered back once again like a drunk, both hands clutching her still-bleeding and now-broken nose as she let out groans that could only be of pain. Hardkour raised his gaze to shoot a glare at Krieg, wondering if the frustration he noticed in the man was just his imagination. Whatever, he''ll talk when it matters. Deciding to put off confronting Krieg for now, he stared back down at Nordwind with eyes that were almost bored. "What was I saying again?" He continued on, acting like he honestly didn''t remember. "Oh, yeah! What they''re weak to! For instance¡­" The blond raised a hand as his opponent began to stand again, looking battered but as resilient as he expected. Unfortunately for her, Greg was already gone, the sheer burst of kinetic energy he expended in a single motion enough to shatter the ice under his feet. Nordwind didn''t even have time to register his acceleration as he blurred in her eyes as he darted around to take her back. It was speed impossible to react to, but it was not necessarily an action impossible to predict, especially with his top speed cut in half by Krieg''s power. And Nordwind had seen enough to do exactly that. The ice-themed cape thrust her hand behind herback before the rest of her body could turn to meet it. Half a heart-beat later, a car-sized spike of ice burst from the battlefield. "Gotcha!" Her eyes widened as the teenager''s body twisted itself into a tight flip in mid-air, Hardkour''s face a bright grin as he bounded off her ice structure with inhuman agility. With a slight grunt, the teenage cape launched himself forward with one hand in front of him, propelled like a missile as his outstretched fist crackled with what could only be electricity. Nordwind made to dodge again with what little warning she had, ducking aside with a look of shock on her face. It helped very little. His knuckles landed hard as they smashed against her temple, the open target she presented to him, with audible force. Once again, it felt like introducing his fists to a wall of solid metal. This time, though¡­ This time, something gave. The hit erupted with a crack that definitely was not just ice as his electrified blow sent Nordwind''s skull directly into the ice rink of a battleground. A moment later, another crack erupted, this time from the ice, as a hard skull slammed into it hard enough to shatter it even further.
Electrokinesis (Minor) (1 ¡ú 2) Beginner Combat (21 ¡ú 22)
Nordwind lay there on the cracked ice breathing heavily, eyes out of focus and blood flowing freely as it stained her face, costume and the ground. Greg dropped to the ground, looking down over her with a small smile. He bent down into a crouch, hands resting on his knees as he looked at the half-conscious woman. "Let''s review, students. Brutes are shaped like humans." He raised one finger. "Humans have weak points." A second. "Most Brutes have weak points." A third. "Like the solar plexus, jaw, nose, ears, and temple." A fourth. "A hard enough hit to those last four can rattle the brain something fierce." And finally, his thumb. In all honesty, unless he used enough Reinforcement for it to show, he didn''t have much of a choice given how durable she was. Add onto the fact that heat just made her even stronger and¡­ well, he was already running low on options. His smile widened slightly more and flexed all five of his digits again, each one spread out wide as small arcs of electricity sparked and jumped between all of them. "Another little weakness that most things with a nervous system have, Brutes included..." She couldn''t even make an attempt to dodge this time. Not that it mattered, the force behind the hit was almost nothing. What it came with, on the other hand¡­
Electrokinesis (Minor) (2 ¡ú 3)
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. His palm cupped her face and the sound of sparking electricity was audible for a scant second before the noise that was Nordwind''s screaming drowned it out. She flailed on the ground, unable to even grab for him as her muscles seized and spasmed. Regardless, Hardkour refused to let go as she continued to scream. "I''m honestly sorry about this," He said aloud, more to himself than her, the words not even audible over the sound of her screeching. "Not for this, but like¡­ well, that I gotta finish this so quick."
Electrokinesis (Minor) (3 ¡ú 4)
After a few more seconds, he stopped and the insensate Brute flopped back to the ground completely. The only thing stopping her from finally resting on the asphalt was the gloved hand holding her up by her hood. Hardkour jumped back, still holding onto the unconscious Nordwind, and landed next to the still unmoving Stormtiger just a few meters back, unceremoniously dragging the female cape behind him. The man with shattered wrists lay completely unconscious against the curb, dead to the world behind his mask but Greg''s focus wasn''t on him. No. Once again, his attention was on Krieg. The man had moved closer yet again in the time Greg''s attention had been away from him. He could feel it in his chest too, the tightness that was the Neo-Nazi''s power trying to constrict both his movements and breathing from several meters away. "It''s over, Krieg! It''s over!" The words left his mouth in one long exhale, the sound quickly devolving into something like laughter. Greg shook his head as he laughed back at the still form of Krieg and the other trembling cape by his side, her hand finally removed from the older man''s shoulder. "Tell me where the kids are..." He paused to gesture down to the two broken and unconscious capes at his feet. "Tell me where there are and I won''t finish the job I started." Krieg simply made a move to close the distance, Impuls following right behind the man, only for them both to pause as Hardkour shouted out again. "Not another fucking step!" He barked the sentence as he shook the unconscious Nordwind by her hood. "You get closer and I use her as an example. Every minute you stall, I break a limb. You lie, and she loses the ability to walk. Make your choice." "..." Krieg continued to stare at him, the only movement from the man coming from his greatcoat as it fluttered in the slight night-time breeze. "Why do I doubt that?" His voice was raised, yet despite that, sounded just as calm as unbothered as ever. "More than that, declaring intent to murder and you still consider yourself distinct from villains? Do you lack understanding of your own deeds or are your thoughts so far separated from your actions that you still b-" The sound of a loud CRACK silenced Krieg, and Greg removed his foot from Nordwind''s shattered leg without even glancing down. Eyes full of rage stared down the Neo-Nazi as Greg opened his mouth again. "Oh, shut up with your bullshit armchair psychology! I said it before, I don''t give a fuck what you think!" The teenager sniffed, free hand wiping traces of his own blood from below his nose. He spoke the words he meant with more passion than he intended, barely holding himself back from outright shouting. "Dozens of kids for one random Nazi villain wannabe? You think I won''t make that trade?" He shook Nordwind again, a slight groan coming from the woman despite being too out of it to even open her eyes. "I could rip her jaw off," he switched again from truth to lie without a moment''s hesitation. "I know how normies feel. She''s a Brute, yeah, but you heard her leg. She doesn''t get really tough unless she''s actively using her power, right? But not when she''s passed out, yeah. Not right now." Krieg visibly stilled, if that was possible, but the woman next to him shuddered like a leaf at Greg''s threat. He took that as a sign to continue. "Wouldn''t be too hard either. One quick pull and she''s done." Krieg raised his hand. "We both know th- Greg didn''t let him continue. "You. Don''t. Know. Me," the teenager interrupted, intoning each syllable carefully. "First of all, a four-man crew? For me? Fucking insulting. "Second, you didn''t know how fast I was or you would have planned better. Third, you didn''t know how tough I was or you would have come with more people. Finally, you didn''t know that I don''t just control fire, I''m also a living battery," Greg paused and blinked for a second, his emphasis on the last word an unintended joke. "I''ll rip her jaw off if I don''t get what I want and you can bet on that."
Bullshitting (6 ¡ú 8) Intimidation (18 ¡ú 19)
"Not just her jaw, too. Grab the top of her mouth, yank a bit, and I get a Nazi skull to use a paperweight. Lucky me." The lies flew out of his mouth as easily as he breathed, which - given Krieg''s hold on his lungs - wasn''t exactly all that easy. "After that, well," He slowly and purposely glanced down at the other unconscious cape next to him, before returning his eyes to Krieg. "I can cook up a Stormtiger barbeque." Krieg''s hands tightened at his sides. Got him. "So, what''s it gonna be, Captain Nazi?" Greg spoke up again, not letting his expression shift. "You lose two valuable team members or I get my info?" "..." "Her jaw¡­" he repeated the words as he used his free hand to cup the body part in question, slowly moving it in his hand to get the point across, "or¡­" "Drop her," Krieg finally spoke again. Hardkour''s head tilted towards the unconscious woman in his hands. "No problem, I will... when you tell me what I want." "You don''t want this fight, boy." "You said that almost five minutes ago, Krieg," Greg challenged, "and look at me now." "Yes, an idiot and a greenhorn. I''m not as easily beaten." "I bet Stormtiger thought that too but it doesn''t matter anyway." Blood-stained fingertips tightened around Nordwind''s hood, raising her slightly higher. "I told you, another step forward¡­" "Old S-s-saint''s R-row!" The blood-splattered vigilante blinked, his attention suddenly focused on the last person he had expected to speak, given she had yet to say a word before. Krieg, for all his attempts at control, seemed to be nearly as surprised as the teenager as he glanced at the trembling figure to his left with what Greg could only imagine as pure shock behind his gas mask. "Th-they''re by Old Saint''s Row, w-w-with the dead apartments!" Impuls shouted again, her head down as her hands covered her face as if to protect herself from expected reprisal or unwanted attention. "That''s all I kn-know! Please d-d-don''t kill them, p-please." "... you''re joking." He didn''t yell, voice audible to no one but himself. Especially so, as he mouthed the words to himself one more time. One eye twitched as he stared between the frozen Krieg and the trembling Impuls. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" This time, he did yell. Voice carried by rage and Aerokinesis, the air rippled around him from the force of his yell. "Old Saints Row? Do you think I''m that stupid? Really?" He stepped forward, teeth grit as his head swiveled between both of the capes that were still conscious. "Is that it? Huh? The other side of town?! You think I''m dumb enough to run to the other side of the city, like I''m enough of a retard to believe you guys are doing this on my own fucking turf!" The teenager took a step forward, allowing Nordwind to drop to the ground as he released her hood. He took another step, fists tight at his sides. "Where. Are. They." Impuls didn''t say another word, the small woman simply shaking her head as she kept her face covered behind her hands. Greg''s gaze turned to Krieg, the man seeming off-balance for the first time since all of this had started. It''s a lie. They''re lying to you. It had to be, right? A lie. What else could it be? Right? He stepped back, fists shuddering as he tried to think straight. This is a mind game Krieg''s pulling. He saw Stormy and Nordwind lose and he coached the last one to say this, because why else¡­ Greg shook his head furiously. But why, though? Why would he do that, make her lie when he could just as easily point me somewhere else? No reason to send me back across town to my turf when he could just lie and say it''s in Empire territory that''s just a trap waiting for me or¡­ He looked up again, unsure of what to do. This makes no sense¡­ but¡­ But it was the only lead he had. And he knew it. Even if he didn''t trust it¡­ "That''s the place, right?" Greg turned his head , blue eyes darting from the silent Krieg to the two wounded and insensate capes at his sides and back to the trembling form of Impuls. "You''re sure of it?" Despite Krieg''s hand on her shoulder visibly tightening in what had to be a painful grip, Impuls still managed to give him a confirming nod. God, I hope I''m not being played. If he was, then¡­ "FUCK!" He bit the word out with all the anger he could force into a single syllable. "Fuck! Fucking fucking god fucking fuck!" Hardkour raised a shaky hand, pointing a single finger at Krieg as he held himself back from turning the empty block into a hellstorm from one bad tantrum. "If this is bullshit, I swear to God, I¡­ I''ll make¡­ I¡­ I¡­ I''m¡­" He glanced down at Nordwind as an idea came to him. Glancing back at Krieg, the teen grabbed the unconscious woman at his feet and tossed her over his shoulder without missing a beat. "I''m taking her with me.," he finally responded back to Krieg. "I find out this is a game, I break her other leg. I find out any kids are dead, I break her spine. I find out they''re all gone? She... she goes too." "That¡­ that wasn''t what the deal you offered," Krieg responded, taking a step forward. "I know, I''m changing it. You should be glad I''m not changing it any further. Oh, and one last thing," the teenager spat on the ground. "Fuck you, Krieg." He leaped without wasting a moment more, ground to roof in the blink of an eye. The instant he landed on the railing atop the roof, he burst off it like a launching pad, built-up speed and somewhat measured strength forcing his body through the air and launched himself halfway across an entire block. One arm tightened around Nordwind''s legs as he dropped to another roof''s surface again, the woman''s unconscious upper body flopping against his back. Not wasting more than a second, Greg hurtled up into the air again, a sense of uncertainty rising in his chest as he rushed from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally skipping the buildings in between entirely.
+ 9500 XP +10500 XP + Stormtiger Chain
Quest Success! "Those Wacky Nazis III: Enhanced Interrogation" Completed! Objectives - Discover where the kids are being kept. [?] - Do not kill the Empire attackers during this quest. [?] Gained 5000 XP Gained $5000 Gained 2 Stat Points Bonus Objective: - K.O. both Stormtiger and Nordwind in under 5 minutes. [?] Skill: Cryokinesis (Basic) Reinforcement (Acolyte) (6 ¡ú 10) Aerokinesis (Adept) + 5 (21¡ú 26) + 5 STR (225 ¡ú 230)
Skill Obtained! Cryokinesis (Basic) Lv 1 Say freeze. Drop temperatures and project freezing air within a range of (1) meter. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range.
I¡­ Oh my god, I gotta call Seo. The thought came to him mid-leap as the appearance of the opaque screens in front of him gave him a bit more hope, easing the rage in his chest before Gamer''s Mind could do more than take the edge off. He dropped down on the edge of a rooftop and the blond took a second to adjust the knocked-out Nazi on his shoulder as he dug a hand in his pocket. A moment later, he blinked as his hand went past the point where his pocket should stop¡­ and simply continued deeper. Greg blinked again as he stared down at his own arm poking right through one of the many holes in the trousers of his costume. Fuck. So, that burner''s gone. As far as he could guess, it was probably somewhere scattered to the wind several blocks in a random direction, or in a million pieces thanks to Stormtiger''s surprise attack. Greg let out a deep sigh and pulled his personal phone from his Inventory with a simple thought and a flash of blue light. The moment he flicked his thumb across the phone to unlock it, Greg paused at the first notification to appear on the top of the screen. Seven voicemails? Sparky? He winced, a slight shake of the head following the action. "I don''t have time for this." Deciding to deal with that later, he quickly opened his texts, entered the number of his second-in-command from memory and began to type.
To Seo It''s Boss. Codename: Blue Eyes, White Dragon. Move out to Old Saints Row with plenty of people and big cars. Head towards the screaming and fire.
Pressing Send on the message, Greg began to lower the phone from his face but before he could drop it completely, he paused. Hesitation clear even behind his mask, he gripped the device in his hands slightly tighter. I said¡­ I know I said later but¡­ "Greg, I¡­ fuck, just¡­ I know you''re doing your crazy superhero shit but god damn it, you gotta pick up your phone. Look, brah, I''m fucked. I''m beyond fucked right now, I¡­ fuck¡­ I got grabbed after I left your place. I know, I know, you told my stupid ass not to, but I¡­ Fuck, the Empire got me. My fucking skateboard is probably in some dumpster or some shit or whatever¡­ not the point, fuck, my head¡­ my head hurts¡­ I''m in¡­ Fuck, I can''t think straight, I don''t even know where the fuck I am an-and I''m freaking the fuck out, okay? There was these guys and-and I¡­ why am I saying this again? You''re not picking up the phone and this is like the fourth call¡­ I¡­ I¡­ L-look, G, I don''t know if I''m gonna make it tonight if you don''t find me. I don''t know where I am. There''s like almost two dozen E88 here and so many Winslow kids and I¡­ There''s no fucking streetlights and it''s just a shit ton of abandoned buildings, brah. I-I¡­ Just¡­ I need help, G. Mal¡­ just fucking everything, I''m fucked. I got fucked up real bad and y-AHHH!" "..." The phone in his hand vanished in a flicker of blue as Greg''s other hand went slack. With nothing to keep her secured, Nordwind silently fell to the empty rooftop in a slump. For another half-second, there was silence.
[Anger] negated by Gamer''s Mind [Anger] negated by Gamer- [Anger] negated by G- [Anger] negated b- [Anger] negate- [Anger] nega- [Anger] ne- [Anger] n- [Anger] [Anger] [Anger] [Anger]
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" The roof shattered and a streak of red light shot across the Brockton Bay skyline screaming pure rage at the top of his lungs. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ?
Gregory Lucas Veder
Job: Student
Age: 15 Title: Ninja - Low Class
Level 33 Experience 51300/60000
Health 2710/3350
Mana 1240 Will 1252
STR 230 INT 90
SPD 138 (142) WIS 22 (-70%)
VIT 203 CHA 33 (+9) (-90%)
Stat Points 2 Perk Points 10
Cash: $7,550
TRAITS
Nerd-Geek Hybrid Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. +50% bonus to INT gains -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains. Asperger''s Syndrome Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. -70% to total WIS -90% to total CHA. Casanova Bloodline As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. + 9 CHA Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Greater Human The true power of human beings is that we can change ourselves on our own. Pushing yourself past the limits of what could ever be considered human, you have entered into a realm that even the most obtuse would notice as distinctly in-human. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 200 pts)
PERKS
Baby Steps (1/3) With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. Capegoat (5/5) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. Danger Sense (6/10) My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Darkvision It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Developed Mind (7/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Dragon King''s Aura (1/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Flowing Mana The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base mana recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 MP/s) Growing Will (6/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Greater Iron Body "It''s a good thing I''m so buff, or that fall would''ve killed me. " What is your body made of, exactly? It can''t be anything human. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, applying after all other damage reduction. +Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest +10% of blunt damage inflicted totaling less than 5% of innate health is negated. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The clarity of your vision scales with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (10/10) Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (2/10) You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/s)
TITLES
Dragonbane Knight To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Low-Class Ninja Hide in shadows and darkness. You''re a ninja! A NINJA! Cool... Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 35% and + 5 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
SKILLS
Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 26 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Analyze Lvl Max The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. Cost: 1 MP Cryokinesis (Basic) Lv 1 Say freeze. Drop temperatures and project freezing air within a range of (1) meter. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 20 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter Electrokinesis (Minor) Lv 4 A human taser. Impressive? You''ve got the power of lightning at your finger-tips. Sadly, that''s pretty much as far as it goes. Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Mana Barrier Lv 6 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana Magnetism (Minor) Lvl 1 Magnets? How do they work? You possess all the power of an office magnet toy. Cost: 5 mp per second of sustained use Mana Bolt Lv 3 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 9 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 7 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (0.5 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lv 6 Great Balls of Fire! You''re a walking firestorm, the ability to launch enough flame at once to set an entire building ablaze from hundreds of feet away. Cost: 250 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Raging Combo Lv 18 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 10 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique. (250%) Cost: 5 Will/s
  • Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR Cost: 50 Will, 50 HP
  • Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten.
Surface Adhesion Lv 20 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 13 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object.
  • Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis.
Weapon Charge Lv 23 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (11.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
ABILITIES
Acrobatics Lv 46 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv MAX Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 2 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (4%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 22 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (40%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (10%) Breath-Holding Lv 26 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (12.5 min) Bullshitting Lv 8 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 10 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 18 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (36%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 8 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (40%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (16%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 19 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (18%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 15 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 10 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. (10%) Meditation Lvl 30 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (300%) Parry Lv 18 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (34%) Reflexes II Lvl 1 That''s two bullets. Child''s play. When you can avoid six bullets, then you will have accomplished something. Decreases innate reaction time by .1% per level. (95%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 71 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (53%) Resistance: Cold Lv 12 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (12%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat II Lv 4 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Reduces heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks up to 200% of health. (4%) + Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (75%)
  • Salamander''s Skin I burn... well, not really? Complete immunity to heat damage with a magnitude up to half of 1% of Innate VIT.
Resistance: Piercing Lv 41 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (31%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 20 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 2 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 25 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (50%) Stamina Lvl 25 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (125 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 40 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (80%) Taunt Lv 20 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (38%) Thrown Weapons Lv 4 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (8%)
Cutscene: Edge of Glory Cutscene: Edge of Glory ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? ¡°Ha! Got ya good!¡± Sparky let out a bitter hiss, air barely escaping from between his gritted teeth as he listened to the same ridiculous voicemail message play for the seventh fucking time. It just made everything about tonight feel like a joke, a giant joke that his friend was the one telling and he felt like the big fat punchline. ¡°You¡¯re in my voicemail.¡± He hadn''t stopped at simple phone calls. Sparky had sent texts too, several of them, not that those seemed to be helping him either. He had kept on trying even though a large part of him really doubted that Greg would bother to even glance at his texts if he wasn¡¯t going to pick up his phone after seven different calls. ¡°The Greg-Meister is kinda busy right now...¡± Busy, right? The thought failed to come out as bitter as he wanted it to, Sparky knowing all too well that the blond probably was actually busy. It still didn¡¯t help his frustrations in the slightest. God¡­ His fingers tightened around the phone, the cheap case cracking slightly under his manic grip. The thought of calling his dad, his parents¡­ It had been a constant one. The idea hung in his head like a virus, almost demanding that he just get it over with. In fact, his fingers had hovered over the screen several times, ready - if not willing - to tap out the numbers he knew by heart. And yet¡­ he couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t manage to make the call. He couldn¡¯t do that to them. What would he even say? What could he say to both his parents, crying and probably screaming at him with worry and fear in their voices? ¡®Hey Mom, I¡¯m gonna die tonight. Sorry for skipping breakfast¡¯ or ¡°Sup, Dad. I¡¯m probably not making it home. Sorry I said your Kiss the Cook shirt was lame.¡¯ He couldn¡¯t do that. So, he didn¡¯t. He left a text, though. A single message to both their phones, a message he knew none of them would check until they woke up the next day. ¡®I love you.¡¯ Simple and sweet. Calling 911 had been his third option, but that had been¡­ even more frustrating, if that was possible. He wasn¡¯t sure what the hell was going on but apparently, 911 could just hang up on you¡­ if they thought you were fucking with them. That didn¡¯t seem legal, but that didn¡¯t really seem to stop them. The phone sat in his hand for a minute or two after that, his mind a complete mess of feelings and frustration as he stared out over the rooftop, eyes barely catching much of anything in the dark of night. ¡°...but you know what to do after the beep.¡± ¡°Beeeep.¡± Sparky opened his mouth, breath coming in rapid and unsteady pants as he tried to wrap his head around what he would say again. What did he even want to say? His legs carried him, nervous energy rushing through his veins as he paced back and forth across the rooftop like a madman. He felt... He felt frantic, thoughts of everything he had gone through in the last half an hour barreling through his mind at speeds that would have left him stunned even if he wasn¡¯t dealing with several different head injuries. His feet carried him across the rooftop back and forth, the teenager pacing like a madman. His free hand occasionally brushed across his face, pausing by his nose or the side of one eye to wipe away a trail of blood or cradle a particularly noticeable ache or throb for a second or two. At the same time, his other hand held the stolen phone to his ear as he listened to the same voicemail message for the fifth time in what was probably half as many minutes. I¡­ I¡­ He shook his head before he let his thoughts distract him. ¡°Fuck, I can''t think straight,¡± Sparky paused, blinking slightly as he realized he said that bit out loud, rather than in his head. Why am I even calling again? ¡°...I don''t even know where the fuck I am an-and¡­¡± He gulped down air, words escaping him before he could even give them proper thought. ¡°I''m freaking the fuck out, okay? There was these guys and-and I¡­¡± He shut his eyes and sighed as he dropped his head into an open and awaiting palm. ¡°Why am I saying this again? You''re not picking up the phone and this is like the fourth call¡­ I¡­ I¡­ L-look, G, I don''t know if I''m gonna make it tonight if you don''t find me. I don''t know where I am. There''s like almost two dozen E88 here and so many Winslow kids and I¡­ There''s no fucking streetlights and it''s just a shit ton of abandoned buildings, brah.¡± He paused, raising his head to take in the darkness around him and the surprisingly quiet environs. Once again, the urge to simply jump over the edge made itself known to him, an overly-loud scream amid scrambled thoughts, the idea of simply stepping into the dark a tempting one. If he didn¡¯t survive, it would at least be a quicker death than what the Empire would offer. If he did survive¡­ Well, that was a big if. ¡°I-I¡­ Just¡­¡± He sighed again into his voicemail. ¡°I need help, G. Mal¡­ just fucking everything, I''m fucked. I got fucked up real bad and y-¡± His words gave way to a pained cry as Sparky was suddenly jarred forward. A hard blow to his back sent his body stumbling across the rooftop and the phone flew from his hand, clattering and skidding across the rooftop until it was hidden amid the darkness. Wha- Shock and fear kept him from freezing up completely, his mind screaming at him to keep moving. The teenager spun around to face his attacker, arms raised just in time to block another hard blow, this one aimed right for his head. What the- Another pained grunt left him against his will as Sparky stumbled back, his already aching body suffering as he dealt with another jolt of pain through his upper body. He lifted his gaze just above his raised hands in an attempt to catch sight of who had just struck him, only to nearly drop both of them as his eyes widened from surprise again. Sparky found himself taking in a face he could only assume was almost as damaged as his own, purpled bruises and scabbed-over cuts on a pale face in stark contrast to the still-forming welts and fresh wounds on his own darker complexion. ¡°Mal?¡± The other boy stood slightly hunched over, fists tight and muscles tensed, his back to the only exit from the roof that didn¡¯t come with a stiff vertical drop. ¡°You¡­¡± The single syllable came out almost as a whisper. Shit. Sparky took a nervous step back, thoughts racing as he tried to keep his breath under control. ¡°Look¡­ look, man, we don¡¯t gotta d-¡± Fuck. The words died on his lips, giving way to a soft gasp as Sparky ducked back out of the way of Mal¡¯s swinging fist. Fuck. Without hesitation, he swung back. His own punch caught the wannabe murderer on the jaw, a glancing blow but enough to surprise Mal as he let out an expression of pained shock. Capitalizing on the moment, Sparky launched a forward kick - a move that was becoming almost instinctual at this point - and slammed his sole into the junior¡¯s chest, sending him back a few feet as he shouted again in more anger than pain. Where did I drop that fucking bat? Sparky scrambled back a few more steps, eyes glancing around in the dark as he tried to spot the weapon he had liberated just minutes ago. Fuck. His breath left him in quick, short pants as he glanced back up at the furious and much larger seventeen-year old across from him. Fuuuuck. A purpled, chapped lip curled up into a snarl and Mal growled. ¡°Stand still!¡± The odd demand had the smaller teen nearly pause his footwork in confusion, eyes narrowed. Jumping at the opportunity, Mal threw out another furious punch. The attempt was sluggish, sloppy and barely controlled. Sparky ducked aside, just barely managing to dodge the blow as he twisted in place. Acting on raw instinct, Sparky swung his own arm. His aim was true and his balled hand struck home as it slammed into the side of Mal¡¯s face like a hammer. His knuckles struck hard just against the bully¡¯s eye, Sparky¡¯s much scrawnier fist given greater force by the pure momentum of his rapid spin. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Mal jerked back in pain, barely able to keep his balance as he stumbled back, one of his hands clutched to his face as a hail of barely-comprehensible curses flew from his mouth. At the same time, Sparky winced as his other hand cradled the first, already feeling the recoil from his counter. Staring with wide eyes as Mal stumbled back against the wall behind him, Sparky let go of the breath he¡¯d unknowingly been holding, actually shocked by his unexpected success. ¡°Heh¡­¡± His quiet laugh didn¡¯t go unheard as the other teen¡¯s head jerked up at the sound. Malcolm shot a vicious glare at the sophomore standing on shaky legs just a few meters away from him, one of his eyes visibly tinged with red and bulging noticeably as he stared Sparky down. ¡°T-the fuck you l.. laughing at?¡± Axel Ramon blinked as he made a sound that he hadn¡¯t expected. Did I¡­ Did I just snort? As it dawned on him that he had, in fact, just snorted, the teenager found himself struggling not to actually break down in complete laughter. ¡°You¡­ I¡¯m laughing at you.¡± ¡°What?¡± The bully responded blankly, hand falling away from his face as he stared the other boy down again. ¡°W-what¡¯d you just say to me?¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up, y¡­¡± Sparky shook his head, a wry smirk pulling at his lips as he snorted again, ¡°...y-you bitch.¡± A hand cradled his side, his battered torso jostling uncomfortably as he tried to hold in his laughter. The bully started at the words. ¡°Y-you don¡¯t fucking laugh at m-¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Sparky interrupted, another snort following the sentence as Mal¡¯s glare deepened with rage. Sparky¡¯s expression grew, smirk becoming a bitter smile as he gave into a bit of laughter. ¡°You¡¯re a f-f-fucking roided-up washout. W-what, do you think I¡¯m scared of you, brah?¡± He jerked a hand in the direction of the stairwell behind Mal, the junior actually glancing back for a moment despite himself. ¡°I k-killed two guys, man. You def saw at least one on your way up, right? You had to have, right?¡± Sparky nodded, as if responding to his own question. ¡°I did that.¡± He said the words like a whisper, Mal actually leaning forward and away from the wall as if to properly listen. ¡°Me,¡± Sparky hissed again. ¡°Unlike you¡­¡± Sparky could only grin wide as he brushed strands of his hair away from his face, the clumpy mess of dirt, sweat and blood sticking long strands of once semi-carefully managed hair to his face and all over his neck. Those three items also stained his clothes almost completely, the mess of filth sticking his shirt especially tight against his chest. He could hear it too, his blood pounding in his ears, a musical beat he can sink into, his own personal soundtrack. A groan of laughter leaked it¡¯s way past his lips as Sparky clutched at his ribs, nearly bending over from the pain as he just managed to stay upright. ¡°H-how does it feel to be such a pussy¡­ Malcolm ¡­ T-that you need your fucking dad to help you get rid of me?¡± Regaining his balance, Mal¡¯s expression twisted up into an image of rage, both eyes bulging and bloodshot. The junior Neo-Nazi faced down Sparky, glaring angrily with gritted teeth and a snarl that made him look even uglier than his healing wounds could manage on their own. The other boy didn¡¯t look anything approaching sane, as he stared down the smaller teen with a look that promised pain. ¡°YOUUUUUU!¡± With that scream, Malcolm Duncan swung out again. His fist flew faster this time, the punch far more focused than the last. Amber eyes widened as he ducked to the side, the skin on Mal¡¯s fist just barely grazing his jaw. Even with the pain he was feeling all over, the sluggishness and hesitance his body felt from each wound and every bruise on his body, Sparky felt like he still had a chance to win here. After all, like he just said, he¡¯d already taken down two grown men. What was one teenager, right? The confidence vanished from his thoughts at the exact same moment that a mouthful of spit flew from his mouth. Sparky doubled over from the unexpected gutshot, pain racing through him as he tried to keep his balance. When Sparky opened his mouth again, it came with a pained grunt and a splatter of blood on his shirt and the ground below. No words followed along with it, but they were unneeded. He didn¡¯t have the time for them anyway. He dove forward from his hunched-over position, arms wrapped around Mal¡¯s mid-section as he tackled the larger boy. A second later, they both hit the ground. Mal¡¯s head slammed against the rooftop, a sound halfway between a groan and a choked scream bursting from his lips. Sparky¡¯s body dropped on top of him and the other boy raised his head, twisting back from the downed Neo-Nazi for an instant before it snapped forward like an over-stretched rubber band. Forehead met nose with a resounding crack that Sparky could only describe as brutally satisfying. With a victorious grin, he raised his head again to stare back down. The smaller teenager leaned forward on Mal¡¯s body, one knee pressing down on the older boy¡¯s left arm and his left hand managing to hold down Mal¡¯s right. Angry yet dazed eyes glared up at him as Sparky shifted his battered body on top of Mal¡¯s torso, straddling the bully¡¯s prone body. ¡°Y-y¡¯know, the Empire 88 is all about purity.¡± He paused to throw a punch down at Mal¡¯s face and another one followed after it in quick succession, the third blow slamming harshly down on Mal¡¯s nose and coating him with another spurt of blood.. ¡°And you¡¯re all one hundred percent pure bitch!¡± A single fist flew towards Malcolm¡¯s face and Sparky found himself unable to stop as several more followed after as he threw both hands into the mix, blow after blow raining down as he grew more and more exhausted. Sparky couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯s felt this much¡­. Well, this much of anything. It was a rush that left him feeling more awake and excited than worried or frightened, the latter two emotions barely noticeable as he greedily fueled the burning in his gut, something he wasn¡¯t sure he¡¯d ever felt before. He felt alive. The moment passed surprisingly quickly as he felt something else in his gut. Something else he was sure he had never felt before. His mouth opened wide in a near-silent gasp, all air driven from him as a sudden cold spot extinguished the fire in his gut. Fire was replaced by ice in an instant and Sparky found himself blinking in confusion. Wha- Sparky had a moment - a split second - to take in a ragged breath as pain lanced through his lower torso. His gaze dropped down. To Mal¡¯s face, the bully¡¯s eyes wide open as he stared up with a victorious smile. Down, down¡­ To the side of his stomach, just by his ribs. To the blade jammed inches deep into that exact spot, a single hand just now letting go of the small knife. Oh. Sparky blinked slowly, taking hold of the pocket knife as he stumbled back and away from Mal¡¯s prone form, the other boy doing the same as they rose to their feet in oddly similar and ungainly scrambles. He blinked again and gripped the knife¡¯s holster, suppressing the urge to vomit from both the pain and the sensation as his legs wavered beneath him. With a pained grunt, Sparky pulled the blade from it¡¯s fleshy sheath and the cold lessened with another twinge of pain. The teenager didn¡¯t have to glance down to see fresh blood streaming out of his stomach, some important vein probably torn wide open from the gut wound. Red liquid stained his clothes even further, his shirt clinging even tighter to his chest. The knife, slick with blood in his hand, felt like a massive weight. Sparky stumbled back again. Oh. Slick yet heavy, the blade slipped from his wavering grip and the scarlet-stained pocket knife fell to the ground, clattering on the rooftop. Sparky clutched at his stomach with a single hand, another joining it a moment later, trembling fingers on both hands struggling to dam what felt like a river of blood. ¡°Who¡¯s¡­ heh¡­¡± Malcolm Duncan paused to release an audible heavy gasp of air, the words fading away for a moment before he continued speaking, voice labored as he spoke like someone clearly out of breath but trying to hide it, ¡°who¡¯s the bitch now?¡± Sparky raised his head slowly, his entire body feeling oddly weightless. It wasn¡¯t just his body; really, the entire world seemed to spin as he did his best to remain upright. For a long moment, he took in the other boy''s face, eyes lingering on fresh bruises atop older ones and reopened cuts marring Mal¡¯s face even more. ¡°...¡± Another snort escaped the bleeding boy; pain, shock and adrenaline giving way to exhausted hilarity. He couldn¡¯t help himself, really, his mouth curling upwards again as he didn¡¯t bother to stop it. ¡°...brought a knife¡­ knife to a f-fistfight, huh?¡± He shook for a second, blinking rapidly as he tried to keep his gaze steady. ¡°Still¡­ still saying it¡¯s you.¡± Mal¡¯s nostrils flared. Sparky blinked as he stumbled in place near the right edge of the roof, seemingly uninterested in moving or raising his hands in an attempt to continue the pointless fight any longer. Fuck it. Hands still clutching his freely bleeding stomach, he simply stared blankly forward. ¡°Bring it, bitch-boy.¡± Over two hundred pounds of over-muscled teenaged boy lurched forward with a roar of rage that someone had to have heard in the silence of night, nothing but raw murder on his face. A second later, Mal slammed into him with all the force and subtlety of an infant rhino. Rather than fight, Sparky went completely limp, finally giving into his pain and exhaustion as he let himself fall to the hard, unyielding ground in an unmoving heap. Just to the right of him, Malcolm Duncan did almost exactly the same as his momentum carried him past and over the edge. Only in his case, the ground was much farther away. At least, judging by how his scream had the time to shift from rage to raw fear. As he heard the scream come to a sudden stop several stories above, Axel ¡°Sparky¡± Ramon allowed his eyes to open, a smile plastered on his face as he stared up at the night sky. Just like his daddy. He almost couldn¡¯t believe that had actually worked. Almost. Sparky allowed himself another snort, the sound devolving into silent gasps of laughter as he continued to bleed out onto the rooftop. Both fucking idiots. Adrenaline finally began to trickle out of his system as he lay there for who knew how long, entire body almost completely unmoving. Little by little, he felt each and every single wound he had received from the beginning of this entire shitfest of a night began to make themselves known in full force again. So many bruises, uncountable cuts, head injuries, a stab wound, and who knew what the fuck else? His gaze drifted over to his side, eyes widening slightly as they landed on the semi-reflective form of something that could have come in handy just two minutes earlier. ¡°The bat?¡± He snorted again at the absurdity of it all, still laughing. ¡°So, that¡¯s where I dropped that st-¡± The words died on his lips as the rooftop door slammed open with a loud crash and a familiar-looking figure burst onto the rooftop, head jerking from side to side as he seemed to vibrate in place with nervous energy. ¡°Malcolm!¡± The man in the leather jacket screamed, all previous calm in his voice gone and replaced by the raw fear of a man terrified for his life. ¡°Boy, where the fuck are you? This ain¡¯t a joke! We gotta move!¡± The man froze a half-second later, his body stilling as his gaze dropped to lock on to Sparky¡¯s prone form. ¡°You.¡± The teenager raised a blood-stained hand lazily, feeling surprisingly unbothered. ¡°Me.¡± Mal¡¯s father took a hurried step forward, gaze snapping from side to side as he seemed to scan the roof. ¡°You¡­ you, where the fuck is my boy?¡± Even though Sparky could barely see his face from the angle he found himself in, the frantic worry edged with pure anger in the grown man¡¯s tone just made the whole thing seem even funnier for some reason. ¡°...Who?¡± Even if he was somehow completely unable to see the man reach into his jacket and pull out a shiny silver weapon, Sparky knew he couldn¡¯t miss the undeniable sound of a handgun being cocked. ¡°Y-you fuckin¡¯...¡± The man raised the weapon in one hand, allowing Sparky to properly take in the shiny handgun Mal¡¯s father was aiming down at his prone body. ¡°My son, my boy! He ran up here when I wasn¡¯t looking.¡± ¡°...wh-what does that¡­ have to do¡­ with me?¡± He shot back with a smile, voice labored with the simple effort of speaking. The Neo-Nazi shot a sudden glance back down the stairwell, a sound seemingly catching his attention before he glanced back at Sparky and shouted with an added hiss to his tone, ¡°Where the fuck is he?¡± The boy on the ground smiled uncaringly. ¡°Check¡­ the¡­ ground¡­ floor.¡± It took at least a second or two for the man to piece the sentence together, enough time for Sparky to let out another laugh as he finally caught sight of the man¡¯s incredulous expression the moment before it flashed into rage. An instant later, a gunshot cracked through the air. Lag 6.15a Lag 6.15a ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 13, 2011 11:01 PM The streets of Old Saint''s Row were silent in the dead of night. Not that they weren''t nearly always silent, really, as the blocks of the once-lively urban housing project had long since become a corpse of its former self. With the roads dimly lit with what few flickering street lights remained¡ªthose that weren''t already on the verge of failure at least¡ªthe entire area felt more daunting than they ever did in the bright light of day. The cold chill of night did little to help bring a sense of warmth and security, either. Even if the area hadn''t been one of those specifically chosen for its lack of occupants and general emptiness, these parts of Brockton Bay often seemed desolate and vacant enough to the eye of the average person who made their way through here for whatever reason. Honestly, without a dedicated search or some lucky happenstance, almost no one would have noticed the few people that used these decrepit houses and near-ruined buildings in Old Saints Row for shelter. However, tonight was different for several rea- "God fucking damnit!" The door to one of the Row''s derelict buildings slammed open with that hissed curse as accompaniment. The young man who had managed to keep his cursing under control while inside now stomped angrily down the steps of the once-new apartment, visibly fuming as he spat angry words at no one and nothing in particular. Hair dyed a visibly unnatural shade of blonde and cropped close to his skull, he looked very much like the prototypical young Empire member, the gangster aesthetic only solidified by the fact that he was dressed in a simple, torn pair of jeans under a thin faded windbreaker. To top it all off, a scraggly beard covered his chin and face, the facial hair dyed a similar color to that of his head. Moments passed and his cursing lessened in both intensity and speed, both trailing away as he seemingly let both fade away along with the anger that fueled him. As he finished his tirade, the Empire member eased forward and dropped an arm over the top of the rusted junkpile that was the abandoned car someone had left behind in front of the building. A few moments passed like that before he lifted his gaze to stare at the night sky, outburst completely over, a look of something imperceptible on his face as he did so. "God fucking damnit." He repeated the same line that had started his quiet, yet bitter tirade, shoulders slumping as he spoke the sentence with one long sigh, utter exhaustion audible in the extended breath. A few moments passed like that before he turned around to begin making his way back into the building, the introspective look on his face shifting back into one of carefully-crafted yet thuggish anger. His foot met the first step when - "Wow." The Empire thug whipped around, unrestrained shock and visible fear clear on his face even in the dark of night as his head darted around in search of the unexpected voice. "Yo, Shay," the voice spoke again. "Up here." Once again, the Empire member was barely more than a shell, unable to move or do anything but vainly search for the source of the voice that knew his fucking name. "Shane!" Shane frowned, appearing to momentarily worry that the voice he heard was just another illusion - or worse, another Empire member who had heard him spit some choice opinions that he''d rather keep under wraps. Someone had to have been watching the door, right? Shane was certain of that much. "Yo, bro?" he called back questioningly, easing away from the steps as he swiveled his head back and forth, ears raised expectantly. "Here." Shane''s eyes finally came to a stop at a spot just ahead of him, a few short meters away at the top of the steps, right next to the door he had stormed his way out of barely a minute before. The figure sitting on the edge of the steps stared back at him, the dot of light and trailing smoke that was a cigarette held just a few inches from his smirking lips. Shane held his breath for a few moments, second-guessing each and every one of his words as he stared into the eyes of the smoking skinhead, the other man clearly finding everything in front of his eyes amusing. Oh, thank fuck, it''s just Dean. After a moment, the young man paused. Oh fuck, it''s Dean. Dean Becker was a lot of things to a great many people, and a very few terrible things to a few certain other people. To the Empire Eighty-Eight, he was a loyal and eager street soldier. To the citizens of his neighborhood, he was a vigilant night watchman. To Shane Koons, he was at the very least one of the best friends a man could ask for. Unfortunately, Shane wasn''t entirely sure what order his friend held any of those priorities in. "Hey there, dumbass," Dean''s smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he placed the cigarette in his mouth. The cool night air seemed to get even colder to the nervous Shane as the other man tilted his head patronizingly, like a parent who had caught you red-handed. "You get it all out of your system?" Shane found it hard to meet Dean''s eyes as he worked his jaw silently, his capacity for words seemingly as dry as his mouth suddenly felt. It took several long seconds before he actually spoke with any level of eloquence. "What?" Shane spoke flatly, keeping his tone cool and even as he could manage, despite being clearly uncomfortable. His eyes flicked around the building''s stoop in a manner similar to the way he had done so just a few seconds prior, before finally, hesitantly, settling back on Dean''s own. "I mean¡­ what?" "Really?" The word came with a single raised brow from the other man, the hair above his eyes rising high to the point they nearly kissed his clean-shaven skull. "What? That''s all you gotta say, man?" You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Shane Koons stared silently on again, exhaustion filling him as he found himself out of his depth and entirely unable to talk himself out of the mess he had just gotten himself into. Finally¡­ Fuck it. "Fuck it," he repeated, throwing his hands up into the air. "Fuck it, fuck me, fuck everything, alright?" Irritated eyes circled back to his friend again, the man seemingly unbothered as Shane began to work himself up into proper ranting form. "Nah, go on," the skinhead waved the hand that held his cigarette in Shane''s direction. "Talk all your shit. Tell ol'' Deany boy what''s wrong." The man paused a half-second later, tilting his head slightly to the right. "You know, I can honestly kinda piece what your whole deal is. You said a lot already. A hell of a lot." A burst of nervous laughter spilled out of Shane''s mouth, the young man raking a hand through his mane of platinum blond hair as he tried to compose himself. "Y-yeah, I guess." "Honestly, Sh-shane, you gotta be s-straight with me," Dean continued with a tight smile, the man audibly and visibly holding back the urge to laugh himself. "What''s got you so worked up about the Triple E, man? "I-i-i¡­ I dunno." "Don''t know what," the skinhead demanded, the humor in his voice fading slightly to expose a not-so-hidden edge. "Use your words, man." "I''m just having second thoughts, you know?" Shane finally replied. He stepped backward, halting his motion right before his back met the edge of a rusted out junk-bucket of an abandoned car, the only things still intact on the vehicle being the glass itself. "I got one semester of college left and I''m just¡­ I''m just not sure if I want all this to be part of my life anymore." "Oh, oh, I see," Dean laughed this time. "You get ya degree and all of a sudden, you''re too good for the Empire, huh?" He raised an eyebrow again as he leaned one shoulder up against the stoop. "That how it is?" "No, it''s¡­" Shane fidgeted in place, fingers sliding over both thumbs as he tried to occupy his hands. "It''s just an Associates, okay, not a big fancy degree and it''s just about doing more for myself and I''m about to be twenty-five and I just don''t think¡­" His rambling words trailed away as he shook his head, standing silently on the barely-lit sidewalk. "I dunno if I can do this anymore, Dean," Shane finally continued with a loud exhale, hands thrown up by his head again. "This was supposed to be about protecting my neighborhood, okay? My family, right? Not these kids. Not this." Shane gestured a lanky limb to the building his friend sat in front of. "Not any of this." Dean shook his head, chuckling at his friend''s antics. "Bro, these kids? Yeah, I''m not a-hundred percent for it but they''re all baby thugs, Shaney." The skinhead sniffed loudly, thumbing his nose as he narrowed his eyes at his taller, lankier friend. "Give ''em a year or two and they''ll be holdin'' each and every one of your baby sisters down¡­" Shane shut his eyes, clenching them tight as he tried to pretend the shiver he felt down his back was from the cold breeze fighting against his cheap, ineffective windbreaker. "Dean¡­" "Nah, Shay, you know it. Trust me, those kids are gonna be takin'' turns dick deep in all three of those lil girls while you''re bleedin'' out on the floor next to your mom¡­ while she''s cryin'' an'' waitin'' her turn." As that dark scenario left his lips, Dean sniffed again and tossed the cigarette over his shoulder without a care. "''Sides, now''s kinda a real shit time to be welching, y''know. You signed up for this same as me. Yeah, I pushed you a lil bit but you were down." "Bu-" "Nah, Shaney." He shook his head slowly, another smile creeping across his face as he leaned forward on the steps to give Shane a knowing look. "It was your choice." The silence hung in the air between both men, Dean seemingly unbothered by the night chill as he sat on the stairs and stared back at his friend, waiting patiently for him to say something back. "Same as me," he repeated again after several seconds of quiet. "I don''t know, man," Shane shook his head as well, finally finding the words to express himself after a long pause. He knew himself well enough to know that this wasn''t the life he wanted, not for himself and not for his family. "I mean, I mean¡­ I chose to be here right now, but do I actually have the ability to choose?" The skinhead blinked. "Huh?" Shane frowned, forcing his thoughts into something coherent. None of this¡­ None of this was what he had really signed up for. His initiation had involved him shooting a Merchant that tried to push drugs in his part of the city. He could justify that, easily. This, though? Shane shook his head quickly. "I mean, look at it this way, if I''m making decisions, decisions based on personal experiences and the environment I was raised in," he paused to catch his breath, licking his lips in a show of restlessness. He''d had a lot of time to think about things like this, those Philosophy and Ethics courses really helping him as he thought about his life and future at the same time he did his homework. A lot of the kids he grew up with had basically been press-ganged into the Triple E, pushed by friends and other people they knew, coerced into thinking that they had to fight back against the ABB and a bunch of the other smaller gangs that the Empire had done a great job at stomping out. It didn''t help when the Asians were taking over half the city and the ABB was killing, robbing, kidnapping or raping like a bunch of invaders. What else were you gonna do to stop them? Become a cop? The cops might as well all work for the Empire anyway and the ones that didn''t¡­ Well, the ones that didn''t learned pretty quick to follow the orders of the ones up top, especially when it came to the Eighty-Eight. "...if I''m doing that, then I''m just seeking the optimal choice based on previous trial and error results for my life." Shane glanced down at his own hands, clenching them into tightly held fists for a moment. "I mean, my choices might just have been the product of how I''ve been previously conditioned to think and choose." The lanky young adult raised his gaze to meet his friend''s slightly widened eyes. "What do you think?" Dean blinked, visible confusion in his gaze. After a pregnant pause, the man leaned back and took a deep breath. "I thin-" The skinhead went silent, glancing up into the night sky as he cut himself off. He dropped his gaze back over in Shane''s direction, appearing somehow even more confused as he opened his mouth again. "Did you hear that?" Shane shook his head, just as confused. "Hear wh-" Roaring wind and the sound of shattering bones eclipsed Shane''s hearing, drowning out whatever his friend was about to ask in its wake. The Empire member blinked and his world was overtaken by a flash of red. "-GKK-" A second later, Shane felt his nose shatter inwards, fragments of bone and cartilage sent down his throat as something latched onto his face with force unnatural. The back of his skull exploded through the side window of the car behind him, thick teeth of safety glass jabbing everywhere as they caught onto his head, back and unprotected neck. Barely a moment later, an instant to gag down what little air he could, the gang member screamed through a mangled throat as an uncaring hand ripped him from the car with frightening ease. He stared up into glowing red eyes, liquid draining down his legs that he knew wasn''t blood. "WhERE Is HE!?" "-Mpff-" "...fUcK." A bloody glove drew back, Shane having just enough time to catch sight of it before it palmed his face again, this time the bottom half as he found himself silenced completely. His jaw was next to break, cracking in three places, splintering in one corner and pulverized completely towards the front of his mouth. It creaked in a final act of resistance before it finally crumbled under the powerful grip as Shane barely coughed out a moan through it all. "...plfff¡­" Please. Then the pressure eased, stopping almost completely. He had a brief moment of relief, a slight hope that it was over as those red eyes flickered blue. Then a single finger from the figure''s ungloved hand drove itself into his left eye. "MURdEREr!" Tears of blood and water poured from his face, the only thing the young man could do as he stared up at a face nearly as young as the smallest of his sisters''. Glaring. A burning red gaze. The teeth, bared. Inhuman. A monster''s fangs. His remaining eye spasmed in it''s socket An arm pulled itself back, a tight fist at the end of it. The last thing Shane would ever see was his friend''s skull shattered against the wall of the building with a spray of blood, bone and gore surrounding it. Just like his own. ANNOUNCEMENT Hey, guys. I''m back. I will be posting the next chapter today. It will be un-beta-ed but I completed it in a relative rush. It should be around 3k words. Maybe around 4-5k after I hopefully get a few people to look over it if they''re not too busy over the next week. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I know I''ve had you guys waiting but I do have good news, there are two chapters after this that are nearly almost done so there will be weekly updates for the next month at least. In other good news, I can sleep now and I don''t need a giant mask and tube attached to my face. Also, tonsil surgery is extremely painful even with opioids Lag 6.15b Lag 6.15b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? It all started with a text. One text. One simple text and everything fell apart like a fucking Jenga tower. [Iinitiation compromised. Leave targets. get out NOW.] That had been enough to set him on edge, a strong sense of unease having crept down his back as he took in the three short sentences. There wasn''t much to read but what was there served well enough to throw him off his game something fierce. A text message from Krieg of all people was rare enough. The cape in charge of this section of the Empire was somewhat old-fashioned and chose to eschew text-based communication in favor of setting up a call¡ªconference or singular¡ª or simply holding a meeting with the men he chose as his own lieutenants. From there, the man would deliver clear and detailed¡ªyet at the same time, concise¡ªplans and expectations with a timetable and a deadline by which he expected things to be completed and reported back to him. Krieg was detailed, organized, precise. He didn¡¯t send short, clipped messages. He didn¡¯t make fucking spelling errors. Hell, the man barely ever texted. Even on the occasions he did send a text, as rare as those were, they were written like you¡¯d expect from a memo or a business email. Quite literally, any text from Krieg would be coded so that they¡¯d appear like an especially wordy manager in some office building in Downtown sending work-related instructions to the staff that worked for him. Not¡­ [Iinitiation compromised. Leave targets. get out NOW.] Not this. Cameron Duncan resisted the urge to chew on his bottom lip, thoughts going a mile a minute as he scrambled down the last flight of stairs and stomped out the door leading to the first floor. He had given the message to all the boys on the three middle floors on his way down from the fifth, as quickly and as tersely as he could to make sure they got the message. Despite his effort to control his face, Cam¡¯s tight expression betrayed his own anxiety, keying in his men as to how serious this whole situation was and their worried reactions and quick scrambling made sure the recruits got the same message. They needed to drop whatever they were doing, leave the kids and book it. Initiation would have to wait for another day. As he quickly passed on the same message to each door guard he passed by on the first floor, Cameron found his mood worsening with each single stop. By the eight door, the man had to struggle to hold himself back from returning another annoyed look from a fresh recruit with a well-deserved punch. Ruining their fun? A muttered reply from one of the idiots repeated itself in his mind as he squeezed his hands tight, knuckles on both hands white as he kept moving. Fuckin¡¯ idiots. It¡¯s like they don¡¯t get that what ¡®we¡¯re fuckin¡¯ burned¡¯ means. Despite his ire, Cameron couldn¡¯t act like he wasn¡¯t pissed at the situation himself. All the work he¡¯d put in, all the coordination, all the distraction plays and pay-offs to police and emergency services¡­ All of it down the fucking drain. Hell, he might be even madder if he was a fresh recruit expecting to get initiated. All these ¡°kids¡± they had jacked were chosen for a specific reason. All of them¡­ Just wannabe ABB or close enough that had decided to mouth off, acting hard in that run-down shit school back when Lung had gotten captured the first time. They had all tried to tuck their tails in and act like sweet little angels after their gang of fucking animals had gotten ripped apart. ¡°All this work and we get fucking burned?¡± The words left his mouth in a hiss, the Empire crew leader¡¯s pace becoming even more hurried as he turned a corner leading him from the hallway to the wall of mailboxes leading to the front door. Through the thin wooden walls, he could hear the rapid scramble of movement from all the rooms he had made his way past, even more hurried footsteps from upstairs letting him know the boys had taken his message seriously. The fact that the screams and groans of the targets had eased down to barely-audible whimpers didn¡¯t exactly help his mood, but they didn¡¯t have the time. For all he knew, this place would be flooded with capes in under ten minutes. Five, if they were unlucky. ¡°Lutz. Kell. Beck.¡± The names left his mouth in a surprisingly restrained bark as Cameron stepped down the small set of stairs leading to the front door of the old tenement. The three men standing guard closest to said door quickly stood up, their attention focused on him and the few others milling around them talking about whatever followed suit almost immediately after. ¡°Boss?¡± Lutsford Andrews, an older man who was on the heavier end of heavyset with a beard like a salt-and-pepper Santa Claus, leaned forward. Confusion visible on his face even with the flickering dim lighting, the man unfolded his burly arms and stepped away from the door slightly as he gave Cameron a slight nod of the head in respect. ¡°Boss, something happen?¡± For someone who was barely more than muscle, Lutz had experience and he could tell when things were off. It was a given, considering how many years he had spent running low-level street work for the Empire, and at any other time, it¡¯d put something approaching a smile on Cameron¡¯s face. Right now, though¡­ not so much. Cameron brushed a spot of nonexistent dust off his leather jacket as he glanced over his shoulder to see several of the E88 muscle and the recruits they brought leave the rooms they occupied and begin moving towards the back doors. He gritted his teeth for a moment, not seeing what he had hoped for before he glanced back to face his subordinate. Eyes screwed up in clear frustration, he finally replied back with a simple, ¡°We¡¯re burned. Fucking burned. Shit¡¯s gone south.¡± His words were met with widened eyes from the half a dozen men milling around him, Lutz¡¯s mouth falling open in surprise. Before any of them could do so much as form a word, the obvious single syllable question clearly heavy on their tongues, Cameron didn¡¯t bother to give them a second as he continued speaking. ¡°Already passed on the message to the boys upstairs.¡± He sighed after a moment and raised a single hand up to knead his forehead. ¡°And before you ask, no, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s coming our way, but it¡¯s coming and we gotta move.¡± ¡°...shit.¡± The simple word left the mouth of the reed-thin man standing barely a foot from Lutz. Kell, a platinum blond with sunken, sallow eyes like a raccoon shook his head as he spat the word again. The man was a good soldier, fuckin¡¯ deadly with a knife and always handy for fights and intimidation despite always looking like he needed sleep. ¡°Fuck.¡± Standing across from Lutz with his distinct half-grimace was Beck, a small-bodied but wiry man with a demeanor that seemed more appropriate to a drug addict considering how wired he often acted. That was always rather odd to Cameron, considering the man was more straight edge than a fuckin¡¯ nun but he never bothered to ask. ¡°Yeah, all that,¡± Cameron spat, his frustration peeking through as the footsteps from above and around him grew louder and more hurried. ¡°Now, we gotta move. Kellan, Wenz, you¡¯re riding with me. I¡¯m parked out back. Lutz, drive as many as you can in one of the vans. If they¡¯re not inside in two minutes, you book it.¡± The three nodded, responding to his command without hesitation. ¡°Good, now let¡¯s move already!¡± They responded on his order, Lutz¡¯s hand already reaching for the rusted door knob when he paused a half-moment later, a shout from Cameron freezing him in his place. ¡°Wait,¡± their boss repeated more quietly this time. ¡°My kid.¡± The two words left his mouth with a complicated expression on his face but he soldiered on regardless. ¡°You guys seen my kid down here? I asked around upstairs and they said he was heading down to smoke a bit before the main event.¡± Their confused expressions told Cameron everything he needed to know. The situation wasn¡¯t the only thing contributing to the rapidly deteriorating state of his current mood. No, if that was all he had to worry about, he¡¯d be fucking chipper compared to how he felt right now. He felt a new sort of pain making itself known between his eyebrows as he turned back to face the nearest stairwell leading back the way he came from. Don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ tell me that kid went u- Cameron¡¯s thoughts were interrupted, a shrill sound from outside shattering his focus as he whipped his head back to face the door, all eight of the men standing around him suddenly alert with wary expressions on their face as they did the same. Lutz¡¯s expressions turned down into a frown, the heavy man stepping back for a second before he seemed to reconsider and reached toward the doorknob again. ¡°What the f-¡± Cameron Duncan was already scrambling back as fast as he could, acting on his instincts even as a shout left his mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t fuckin¡¯ open that d-!¡± It all started with a punch. One punch. One simple punch and the door shattered with such overwhelming force that Cameron could almost swore someone had launched a missile at it. Only in place of heat, there was simple raw force. Either way, the wood barrier ruptured inwards, shrapnel flying with abandon as a single fist obliterated the entire thing with pathetic ease. Cameron barely had time to catch sight of it as he tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor in a scattered heap, ears ringing from the sound of what seemed like an explosion. The bearded man with tattoos worn proudly on his shaved head had his words shift to screams courtesy of a face full of wood chips. Lutz¡¯s shout became a pained gurgle as a second punch slammed into each and every one of his necks. The portly biker collapsed back with an empty expression, hands raised to his throat as red leaked from his open mouth like a lazy faucet. The figure responsible ignored him, stepping past the dead man without even a downward glance. His face seemed twisted, the little of it Cameron could make out from beneath a ragged domino mask and above a tattered scarf, warped and distorted in a way that didn¡¯t seem quite right. His entire face just came off as monstrous for some reason, like a Renaissance artist''s idea of what the Devil would like but transplanted onto the face of a human. As if to drive that point home even further, the cape¡¯s eyes shone with an utterly inhuman color as they turned their head in a slow but steady rotation, irises flickering like firelight but with a deep red like fresh blood. The aura didn¡¯t isolate itself just to his eyes, that much was obvious at a glance, the phenomenon seeming to pervade his whole body. His entire body was the same, a red haze of jagged looking light spiking intermittently from the visible parts of his skin. It didn¡¯t even seem to just sit atop his flesh, so much as it pulsed from beneath, so strongly that even his veins stood out gruesomely; the blood vessels swollen, throbbing and dark against his red-tinged skin as they seemed to burn and heal from the light in quick succession. That same scarlet glow radiated out not just past the veins and the flesh, but even from under the tight leather of the cape¡¯s torn costume, the brightness dim yet still enough to light up the figure¡¯s chest from beneath like the world¡¯s largest firefly. It was a stunning sight, and even as one of their own drowned in his own blood barely two meters away from the closest one of them, nearly everyone remained frozen in shock. Even the cape stood still. Then, like a trick of the light, he flickered. The wood floor beneath him exploded like the door that once stood behind him, shattering from the force of his movement as he leapt forward. Cameron could only watch in shock as one gloved hand shot out and grabbed the nearest man¡ªKell, Kellan Mynes¡ªby his throat. The cape wasted no time in lifting him up over his head. Even as the long-haired man swung his treasured Bowie knife with all the desperation of a dying man, the cape in black and red didn¡¯t seem shaken. In fact, he didn¡¯t so much as flinch as Kellan dropped the knife in another flailing attempt to stab the life out of him and simply tried to claw at the boy¡¯s evil red eyes, the things slitted like a lizard¡¯s. A second later, his movements ceased and his body hung limp after a sudden and final CRACK. Tossing Kellan¡¯s lifeless body out the door and over his shoulder without even looking back, the figure¡ªboy, Cameron realized from his position on the floor, the sudden realization not doing a single thing to fill the growing pit deep in his stomach, that¡¯s a boy¡ªhunched his shoulders and let out a roar that reverberated through the halls of the brownstone and shook everyone present back into awareness. ¡°WHERE IS HE???¡± Cameron scrambled to his feet, already running back towards the back end of the hallway even as more of his men ran forward and past him, another mission clear on their minds. As if it would make a difference, several of them carried weapons, whether they had pulled them from the rooms they left or carried them on their persons, they held them up proudly as they charged to attack the cape like the brave white warriors that the Empire drummed into their heads that they were. Idiots! He wanted to scream back at them, warn them, anything. Most of them were doing the smart thing, running for their lives but Cameron seriously doubted that less than a couple dozen of them would charge right to their deaths. Fuckin¡¯ meth¡¯d up idiots! After all, it¡¯s not like many of them would really care or even think straight right now. Part of the initiation rituals involved getting high on some real raw shit to ease past any hang-ups any of them would have with their first kill but it was gonna be the death of them tonight. You don¡¯t fight a fuckin¡¯ cape. Not like this! Not like that! He wanted to but he couldn¡¯t. Instead, the man charged forward, one leap clearing a short landing of stairs before he even had the confidence to glance over his shoulder at the proceeding massacre behind him. He turned back just in time to witness the cape¡¯s open hand strike the jaw of the man everybody just knew as Beck ¡ª Wenzel Becker, a good friend who had managed to save Cameron¡¯s ass several times. The simple slap was enough to shatter the bottom of the small man¡¯s face, teeth sent flying and jaw coming loose in a way that was nothing short of cartoonishly gruesome. Wenzel¡¯s body flew back as he slammed hard into the wall behind him, a spray of blood from the back of his head visible from the moment of impact. All of it done with an ease that zig-zagged the line between both frightening and disgusting given the strength on display. The cape didn¡¯t stop as he swung his other arm like a weapon, his enclosed fist a hammer as he bashed the side of it into another one of Cameron¡¯s men, this one smart enough¡ªor stupid enough¡ªto at least raise his gun first. The gunshot rang out, a bullet tearing through the cape¡¯s shoulder with a powerful spray of blood behind it, but it wasn¡¯t enough to save the man as the cape¡¯s limb slammed into his gut. Even halfway down the hall, you could hear the snap of bone the instant the man¡¯s feet left the floor, the limpness of his body making it clear he wouldn¡¯t be getting up again the moment his back slammed into the ground. ¡°WHERE IS HE???¡± His arms were raised as he roared again, shoulders hunched and digits claw-like as if he were some animal that managed to force itself onto two feet in defiance of nature. The kid¡¯s gloves were slick, Cameron could tell, the thought in his mind even as he took off running toward the stairwell again. Blood clung to leather tighter than you would think, he knew that fact for himself. The hallway was filled with noise and a crowd of bodies impeding his path as they rushed the opposite way, pupils dilated and a bunch of them twitching like psychos. Recruiters, muscle and recruits armed with weapons, the former two thinking they could kill the cape and the latter just following their lead like lemmings, all of them probably thinking a cape kill would be all they needed to earn either membership or glory. Idiots! Cameron mouthed the word over and over as he elbowed his way past, mind focused on reaching the stairs. They clearly hadn¡¯t seen the cape they were dealing with and they had no idea how strong this fucker clearly was. He had seen the video, after all. He¡¯d heard the news flickering around the Empire, too. This angry motherfucker was the ABB¡¯s pet white kid. Maybe even their boss if some rumors had any truth to him. If he was removed from the situation, he might find that idea funny. Some white kid in charge of the ABB, basically the Empire¡¯s wet dream if he really thought about it. It wasn¡¯t funny though, not now. Not ever. After all, this was the same red fuck that threw a fucking van into his drug hideout and blew the place sky-fucking-high. The same masked bastard that made a video about it, literally calling out Kaiser and the whole of the Empire while a building full of cash and drugs burned to the ground behind him. If a couple guns, knives and bats would do him in, Cameron would be the first to join right the fuck in with his own piece. ¡°WHERE.¡± Cameron glanced over his shoulder again as the boy¡¯s growling voice rang out again, too-sharp teeth visible as he roared the single word. His nails stood out, longer than they should be and viciously pointed as he slashed a single hand down. A moment later, another of his men fell to his knees clutching his ruined face and screaming bloody murder. ¡°IS.¡± Cameron heard another scream as his hands closed around the stairwell door, another voice silenced immediately after that with the squelching noise of a powerful impact on fragile flesh. ¡°HEEEEEE?!!¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? He saw red. Red in his vision. Red everytime something struck his body. Red whenever his eyes flicked to someone new.
Harley Mack Lv 11 Tyson Cole Lv 10 Hunter Robertson Lv 11 Drake Wright Lv 12 Jacob Kirkson Lv 10
All of them red. He screamed his question again. They wouldn¡¯t listen. They wouldn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t understand why. At the same time, he didn¡¯t care. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Hardkour¡¯s eyes flicked to the side. He also didn¡¯t hesitate. The teenager rushed forward, veins on fire and claws trailing red light behind him. He twisted in place, contorting as he avoided a nail-studded bat swinging toward him. Moving at a speed that left him pretty much a blur to human eyes, he cupped the fist of one palm with his other hand as he drove an elbow backward. With another crack, he shattered the lower spine of the Neo-Nazi wielding the crude weapon. He felt his shoulder knit closed, the sting of a bullet pushing itself out of his upper arm nothing noticeable compared to the burning pain searing his veins with every heartbeat. A fist lashed out, the impact shattering apart a nose, jaw, skull¡­ All three in quick succession. In the next motion, he stepped forward with his other foot raised. A belligerent skinhead ran right into his extended limb, the man crashing to the floor from the blow to his gut. At the same time, Hardkour grabbed another attacker by the back of the man¡¯s shirt, hurling that one bodily into a crowd of several others charging at him. With a sound of groans and screams, his airborne missile sent all of them toppling like squishy bowling pins. The one he kicked could barely stand but it didn''t stop the idiot from scrambling for a gun one of the bowling pins had dropped. The man''s attempt at a second attack was cut brutally short when Hardkour''s boot stomped down on the middle of the man¡¯s searching limb, elbow giving way with a loud crack. His blood boiled as the man screamed, the teenager fighting the twitch in his clawed fingers to quiet him. He didn¡¯t even have the time to entertain the idea as something swung at him, a screaming voice behind it. By instinct, Hardkour¡¯s hand darted out, fingers and thumb closing shut around the machete blade and holding it fast before it could dig into his leather-clad palm. Uncaring of the pain, the cape tightened his grip around the blade and tore it from his attacker¡¯s hand, the man stumbling forward with it. The machete-wielder was launched back by the ensuing blow, body curled in on itself from sheer pain even before he hit the opposite wall. He took a moment to take in a breath, the taste of blood that wasn¡¯t his own fresh on his lips. Hardkour could see them running, some to other rooms, others the opposite end of the hallway. Even a scant few shuddered like prey animals, stumbling over bodies as they all but hugged the walls on their path toward the main door. Yet, some still came towards him, thoughts of escape clearly not on their mind as they threw insults and whatever else they could think of at him. The screams, one over another, all of them making so much noise he could barely make anything out, let alone piece together any clues. His Danger Sense rang out, an almost undetectable pulse against the base of his neck that rang of mild worry. The young blond spun around just in time to catch sight of one of the Empire members he had let run past him as the Neo-Nazi lunged forward with a knife in hand, shining blade on a direct arc towards Greg''s un-shielded face. Hardkour swung his fist, planting a punishing blow in the gut of the man in mid-air, only to pause for a moment as his Danger Sense pulsed again with that same middling warning. A half-second later, a grunt escaped his lips as a thick arm wrapped around his neck from behind. A much taller figure, body slick with sweat and what smelled like blood, struggled with all his might to strangle the life from the cape in his grasp while his other hand, a serrated knife slick with scarlet, stabbed out at his target¡¯s chest as furiously as the gangster could manage. With another roar, the boy reached back and grabbed his attacker by the shoulders. Clawed fingers dug roughly into fragile flesh, forcing the man to let go of both him and his weapon as he let out a cry of pain. With another grunt, Hardkour pulled the man from behind him, holding the much larger figure above his head, before hurling the gangster down to the ground with a thunderous crash. A groan escaped through the man¡¯s mouth¡ªteeth gritted from pain¡ªbut even still, the man tried to move, clearly attempting to stand despite the pain. Greg¡¯s hand moved faster than the eye could see as the teenager grabbed the man¡¯s blade from the ground and slammed it back down in one quick blur. The sound of pierced flesh and the scent of blood confirmed just as much as his vision did, the teenage cape not needing to look down as the man began to scream like a banshee with his leg pinned to the ground. His fingers flexed as he shuddered out a long drawn-out breath. The blond rose to his feet, the red clearing somewhat from his vision as he took in the blood, debris, and scattered bodies littering the floor just around him. ¡°W-where¡­¡± he stumbled over the word, lips shuddering as he tried to speak through a mouth full of blades, ¡°where is he¡­¡± He just wanted answers. The question once again went unanswered as the teenager raised his head, anger fading slightly more as he noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. The far end of the opposite hallway stood out to him, past the thinning crowd of people scrambling around simply to get away from the red figure of death in the midst. Wait¡­ He tilted his head, barely catching sight of the man wearing what looked like a frustrated grimace -not fear- as he ducked into a stairwell, his leather jacket standing out as odd on a night this warm. The man seemed familiar but¡­ he wasn¡¯t sure how. Wait. He repeated the word in his head as something else forced its way into the forefront of his thoughts, a semblance of rational thought battling past a haze of anger and bloodlust. Everyone''s running to get out. Why is he going upsta- Before he could finish that thought, Greg snapped his head to the side. A half-instant later, the wall just a meter to his right exploded with drywall and wood chips as the powerful BANG of a gun rang out once more. In quick succession, two more bullets shot through the wall, both projectiles flying through where the boy had been just a moment before. Hardkour took in a quick breath as both ears rang with something most people would think of as pain, enhanced hearing doing him very little favors. It didn¡¯t matter. The shooter¡ª Hardkour ducked another set of gunfire as a second gunman poked their head out of another doorway, an old-looking shotgun in hand. A third rushed out from behind the corner of another hallway to stand one door behind Mr. Shotgun, two revolvers held up like a movie-style cowboy. Almost immediately after, one more gangster poked his head out behind the cowboy, before quickly ducking back into the room like a scared chicken. ¡°...¡± With a barely-audible grunt, Greg threw himself to the side, moments before gunfire lit up the hallway. One foot out, he kicked off the wall, already in motion an instant before the weak material exploded from the force of his impact. Body a blur of motion, he bounded to the other side of the hallway, lazy leaps carrying him easily around the scattered gunfire with seemingly no effort behind the movement. He was on the first man in under a second, the gunman letting out a scream as his vision became filled with raw red light. His hand darted out and snatched the arm of the gangster, handgun falling from his grip and scattering to the floor. With another sudden movement, Greg jerked the man¡¯s wrist, snapping it with barely any movement. Another slight yank and the man¡¯s arm came loose, hanging limp from the socket with a distinct pop. The Nazi¡¯s scream rose to new heights, becoming even more intense as Hardkour flung the man by his useless arm, using yet another E88 member like a missile. A half second later, the airborne gangster impacted his friend with the shotgun, the weapon going off. Immediately, both of them ceased their screams. Greg didn''t hesitate as he burst forward one more time, fist slamming into an unprepared chest. The last gunman flew back and through the weak, dilapidated wall, the entire thing collapsing and exposing the room behind it as the gangster¡¯s broken body came to a stop at the feet of Hardkour¡¯s next target. ¡°Don¡¯t you fuckin¡¯ move!¡± The young vigilante blinked. Hardkour¡¯s head turned slowly to the right, eyes narrowed as he took in what he could of the dimly-lit room. Red irises flickered in intensity as over a dozen wide-eyed faces stared back at him, all but one of them young and of Asian descent. The only outlier stood at the front of the room, knife in hand as he held it to the neck of a Japanese teenage girl standing stock-still. Said outlier stared back at Greg with pupils like pinpricks, his entire body trembling like a leaf. Fear? Adrenaline? Drugs? All of the above was most likely, but it didn¡¯t matter. ¡°W-wh¡­¡± Greg frowned as the words fought against his mouth, forked tongue and razor teeth making it hard to speak the way he knew how. ¡°Wha-what are you fuckin¡¯ saying?!!¡± The man with the knife screamed. Greg raised his head, making firm eye contact with the Neo-Nazi. ¡°Where. Is. He?¡± There was visible confusion in the gangster¡¯s eyes, the knife wavering away from the girl¡¯s as he stood up a bit straighter. ¡°...Wha-?¡± He flickered. The man¡¯s unfinished question shifted to a scream as the hand wielding the knife went flying, a clawed hand tearing through flesh and bone like butter. Another scream rang out, shrill and terrified as the girl ducked to the ground, and Greg walked forward, dragging the man across the filthy, dust-covered floor as the man screamed bloody murder. He raised the man up with one hand, launching a fist into his gut. The lieutenant spat blood, face twisted into a rictus of pure pain as he crashed into the wall. For the second time in as many seconds, an unrelenting fist slammed itself directly into the gangster¡¯s torso. Pressed up against the creaking wall, his chest resisted the force of it for a scant moment, the sounds of complaining bones somehow louder than those leaving his mouth. Then, it all gave way with an ungodly cracking sound. The blond boy''s fist pierced through with only as much hesitation as it took for the unnamed man to let out a single tortured rasp of breath. With that last gasp, he collapsed backwards through the new hole in the wall, a smaller hole in his chest painting his surroundings with lifeblood. Greg blinked again and opened his gloved fist, fingers splayed open. The teenager kept his gaze on the corpse for a moment, then shook his head with an annoyed expression. A single second later, he raised his head and turned around to face the teenagers huddled against the opposite end of the wall from him in the barely-lit room. He opened his mouth to speak, to offer them reassurance or ask them questions, he wasn''t quite sure yet. Then he heard it. ¡°Where the fuck is he?¡± Pointed ears twitched as the faint crack of a gunshot rang out. Red eyes widened and the teenage cape¡¯s gaze snapped up to the ceiling, mouth hanging open in disbelief. With a flash of red and a scream, Greg moved again. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Sparky had learned two things in the last few seconds. Things that he probably wouldn¡¯t forget till the moment he died. One, guns¡­ Guns were loud. Really loud. That was the first thing he noticed. The sound was like a physical thing, like another punch taken straight to the head. He flinched back as his head rang, the sudden pain enough to force a hoarse curse from his lips as the back of his skull slammed against the ground again. Two, guns didn¡¯t really hurt. In hindsight, the first was really obvious. The second¡­ not so much. That had been the confusing part. It literally felt like nothing, nothing but numbness and a slight sense of pressure in the middle of his chest. If he hadn¡¯t seen the gun, Sparky couldn¡¯t even be sure he¡¯d have even noticed anything at all. Even the second shot almost immediately after, that one piercing higher than the first, didn¡¯t even seem to register. He definitely felt different, stiffer like he was suddenly carrying a lot of dead weight, but he wouldn¡¯t call it pain. ¡°H-huh?¡± Sparky blinked and stared back at Mal¡¯s father, the frantic-looking Neo-Nazi still pointing a gun at him as his mouth kept moving. A second later, Sparky realized that he could barely hear anything, the ringing still in his ears making everything else seem extremely quiet. Like someone had turned the volume settings in the world all the way down to 5. He felt like laughing again as he lay there, but something in his chest seemed to keep the sound from reaching his mouth the way it was supposed to. Like a weight in his lungs, or something weird like that. ¡­oh, yeah. He realized after another second. I got shot. His attempted laugh became a cough, something hot and funny-tasting coating his mouth before splattering out against his chest. I really got shot. Mal¡¯s dad stared down at him as he kept yelling something Sparky didn¡¯t bother to pay attention to, fat tears visible in the man¡¯s eyes. The gun pointed at him shook, the man barely able to keep it still as his mouth kept moving silently. The laughter was almost worth the blood, really. Eyes half-lidded, Axel ¡°Sparky¡± Ramon grinned lazily up at the frantic ex-father, blood on his lips as something else even funnier popped into his head. ¡°H-hey, you ever think it¡¯s funny¡­ you ever¡­¡± He spat another mouthful of blood out as he giggled, the thick sensation in his chest seeming to fade as it grew warmer. ¡°K-kinda funny how there¡¯s no v-version of orphan for parents, huh?¡± That seemed to be enough to snap Malcom¡¯s dad out of his quiet rant, the man raising his head as his mouth slammed shut and his gaze shifted entirely to rage. The gun stilled and rose again. Fuck you too. Sparky¡¯s smile didn¡¯t fade an inch, slowly dimming eyes somehow filled with more life than he¡¯d felt in years. Fuck all of this. Then the world exploded with red light. No¡­ No, the roof door exploded outwards, imbedding itself into the wall as a beacon of red light rushed through the doorway. Sparky blinked as Mal¡¯s father turned slightly, gun in hand. When he opened his eyes again, the man was¡­ Well, he wasn¡¯t. The gun was still there, and so was the hand. And the arm as well. All of it falling to the floor of the roof with a spray of blood behind like propellant from some very morbid rocket. He blinked again, shifting his gaze to look up as red glared down at him. The teenager on the ground squinted slightly as he stared back up at the light, only to find the action unnecessary as the red faded away, exposing a familiar face and a set of crying blue eyes. A smile spread across Sparky¡¯s face, this one not at all from a place of spite or bitterness, and he found it in him to speak again. ¡°...s-sup, dork?¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Sharp fangs bit down on his bottom lip as he stared down at his wounded friend, the action drawing blood and a pathetic whimper that had nothing at all to do with the pain. The fat, heavy tears pooling underneath a pair of big blue eyes also had nothing to do with that, but Greg Veder didn¡¯t have the consciousness of mind to feel shame for blubbering like a baby, nor did he really care right now. ¡°Sp-Sparky, I¡¯m here,¡± the words left his mouth shakily as he dropped to his knees, both gloved hands hovering just above the other boy¡¯s bloody chest. ¡°It¡¯s me. I¡¯m h-here. G-Man. Greg, okay? I¡¯m here,¡± he repeated himself once more, a usually-speeding mind finding itself stuck in a rut as he stared down at another of his worst fears. A faint laugh was the response he received as his friend stared back up at him, normally sharp, judging eyes clouded with shock and blood loss. ¡°I.. I know it¡¯s you, bro,¡± he laughed again, bloody teeth spread in a delirious grin. ¡°Y-you¡¯re the biggest f-f-fuckin¡¯ dork I know.¡± Greg nodded frantically, trying to match his friend¡¯s mood as his hands sent pulses of Mana all through his friend¡¯s body. ¡°That¡¯s me, I¡¯m a dork.¡± ¡°My dork.¡± His grin widened. ¡°...Your d-dork.¡± Greg grinned back. This wasn''t too bad, the blond tried to reassure himself, his hands futilely trying to stem the blood pumping from the center of Sparky¡¯s chest as well as his stomach. He could fix it, fix this. "The bullets aren¡¯t inside you," Greg rambled off quickly. "That¡¯s good. That¡¯s real good. That¡¯s less of a problem. Less for me to fix. Less for me to¡­¡± ¡°L-less for you to what?¡± "This might feel weird," warned Greg, as his right hand began to glow a vibrant blue as he held it over Sparky¡¯s chest. CAPEGOAT!
Capegoat Active!
Debuff Gained: Collapsed Lung (Severe) - Gunshot Wound
Fuck. Greg Veder bit down on his lip slightly as he felt the wound materialize in his own chest, the odd sensation of his lung just deflating an intensely unsettling one. It was far from the worst pain but it certainly wasn¡¯t fun. "Wow. That did feel weird,¡± the injured boy hummed. "You know what else is weird? Being shot. It didn¡¯t hurt. Both times. Like, isn¡¯t that weird?¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt sometimes. It¡¯s a thing,¡± Greg answered back, shaking his head as he tried to push back the urge to vomit. Capegoated wounds always seemed to hit him harder than his own, for some weird reason. ¡°Sometimes people don¡¯t feel it all.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Sparky questioned dreamily. ¡°Well, not for me. They always hurt,¡± Greg continued with a grimace. ¡°Must be ¡®cause I heal so fast my body doesn¡¯t bother with dulling the pain or something?¡± ¡°Huh. Must be nice.¡± ¡°The healing?¡± He raised an eyebrow and nodded, conceding the point. ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± ¡°No, dumbass,¡± Sparky laughed, the sound and his speech coming easier with a fully healed lung. ¡°Not having to worry about dying from shit like that, like us normies.¡± "Sparky," Greg leaned in towards his friend as he held pressure on the boy¡¯s lower gunshot wound, a serious look on his face as he made a promise. "You aren''t going to die." ¡°U-uh-huh¡­¡± ¡°Sparky¡­¡± ¡°U-uh-huh¡­¡± Blue eyes shifted from his friend¡¯s face, Sparky having shifted to mumbling something that sounded vaguely like drumming noises, and down at the rapidly spreading patch of blood around his chest. He still had Capegoat, right? Right, he had that. All the points he poured into that one perk for times like this, he had at least four more uses left in it for this. He could fix a bullet w- Fuck. He could fix another bullet wound easy, Greg quickly corrected himself as the information filled his line of sight and flooded his mind. I can fix this, he convinced himself. Greg tried it again, hand glowing blue as he held the image of the skill in his mind. A second later, the glow flickered out like a dying lamp. ¡°What the¡­¡±
Capegoat Unusable!
Unusable?! The blond had to hold himself back from screaming in frustration and panic. As the notification flashed in front of him. Instead, he simply slammed his mouth shut, teeth audibly grinding against each other. What?! Why?
Perk: Capegoat (Rank 5) has an individual cooldown of sixty minutes per individual use. Find another target for Perk: Capegoat (Rank 5) or wait sixty minutes before additional use. Four targets remaining for this use.
No, you¡¯re my power. You¡¯re not gonna fuck me like this. His pupils flashed blue as he instinctively used Structural Analysis on every inch of his friend¡¯s injured body. Fuck no! A litany of wounds and conditions flashed past his vision, Greg mentally filtering away everything that wasn¡¯t at least Moderate or Critical hoping that would make things easier to deal wi-FUCK! Unfortunately, it did not make any of this easier, with the exception of providing less distractions for Greg to slog past. The blond boy gritted his teeth as he flicked through the remaining serious medical issues, his expression growing more and more troubled with each one. Internal Hemorrhage, Gunshot Wound - Abdomen, Skull Fracture, Cerebral Contusion, Hemorrhage, Hypoxemia, Hemoptysis¡­ The list came to a stop with something that had Greg flinching, a curse slipping quietly from his lips with sadness and desperation behind it rather than anger. ¡°...fuck.¡±
Spinal Cord Injury (Critical)
Greg took in a shallow breath as his eyes flashed blue, hoping with everything he had that things would look different from the last time he checked.
Axel "Sparky" Ramon Student Lvl 9 HP: 19/225 Best friend and a true bro. Thinks meeting you is one of the best things that ever happened to him, definitely Top 3. Doesn¡¯t blame you. Status: Resigned, Dying.
More tears filled Greg¡¯s eyes. "...I¡¯m gonna die." Sparky didn¡¯t ask a question, the statement clear albeit strained in his hoarse voice. ¡°I am.¡± ¡°Stop being such an idiot,¡± Greg raised his voice, almost hissing the last word. Sparky smirked. ¡°That¡¯s my line.¡± ¡°Then you should know better, dumbass.¡± "Wow, shitting on me on my deathbed? Not cool, brah." "Fuck. You. Fuck you, you¡¯ll be fine to tell me that tomorrow," Greg bit back with tears in his eyes, lying to himself more than Sparky. He wasn¡¯t sure how to save him, no time to get him to a hospital and moving him in this condition would just end things faster. Fucking Capegoat. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡± Fuckin¡¯ useless piece of shit, waste of fuckin¡¯ points! He knew how it worked. He¡¯d tried it over the last couple weeks, the Perk being something of a stabilizer for wounds as they transferred the five worst injuries on someone else to his body. It was a quick fix, a miracle heal. For one condition. For one person. Even with the upgrade, it only allowed him to use it on five people at a time, not five conditions. If someone broke their arm, Greg¡¯s arm would be broken and they¡¯d be fine. In pain for a while, but with a perfectly working arm. If they got a cut, a concussion, a bruise, exactly the same. For something like this, he could take the bullet wound, or the brain bleeding, or the spinal severing, or the low oxygen or the blood loss or the punctured lung but one still left the rest killing him. Even if he had taken the spine wound first in some move of spectacular retarded genius, that¡¯d leave him fucking useless right here on the rooftop next to a dead body until how many hours it¡¯d take to heal a wound like that. ¡°Fuck me,¡± Greg whispered the word under his breath. It was pretty much just a band-aid at this point. Capegoat didn¡¯t do multiple injuries like that. It didn¡¯t do multisystem traumatic injuries either, it seemed, all the other morbidities that piled up as a result of one large one. It couldn¡¯t fix fucking everything. Greg clenched his fists. But¡­ but¡­ something could. ¡°...G-Man.¡± "What?" he asked again, eyes closed. One chance. "It¡¯s okay, man." "You¡¯re not dying, Sparky," Greg repeated, eyes still closed. One shot. "...h-heh, sure," Sparky replied back. Let¡¯s make this count. The blond boy took in a deep breath, mouth pressed in a grim line as he pressed his hands down on his friend¡¯s chest harder. ¡°Do I look like I¡¯m fucking joking?¡± Greg Veder opened his eyes, the sight forcing a slight gasp out of Sparky. Both of the blond¡¯s eyes shone like searchlights, everything from the whites of his left eye to the very center of the pupil shining a single solid royal blue. On the right, the exact same was mirrored with the exception of the color being a brilliant, bright gold. "...not really," his friend replied dreamily. "Okay, then." Greg breathed in again, refusing to feel unsure of his actions. A second later, the phenomenon repeated itself for both of his hands. ¡°You might wanna grit your teeth for this." "For wha-aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" ANNOUNCEMENT + STAT DETAILS with INT Focus ? Anyway, I''ve noticed some people have asked in the past how Greg''s intelligence works and calling him stupid because he should think better because of his high INT. I''ve answered that it''s not thinking ability so much as processing power, more storage space and basically an defragmented mental hard drive allowing for more efficient and faster recall with less chance of corruption (aka brain meat work better). Just because you have a supercomputer in front of a nine-year old, it doesn''t mean that nine-year old will do anything with it other than play bigger games of Minecraft, but that might be hard to grasp for some cause it''s not really a good explanation. So, when I was setting up this story, I wanted certain things to be logical, effectively, from my own perspective. In this way, Greg''s physical stats and perks induce immediate physical alterations to his physiology. I originally considered splitting the stats three by two, with the physical stats being (STR, SPD and VIT) and the non-physical being (INT, WIS and CHA) but then I realized that doesn''t exactly work, so to speak. So, I thought of another way, four by two with the physical stats being (STR, SPD, VIT, and INT) and the non-physical being (WIS and CHA). However, I also realized that didn''t really work the way I wanted it to. It also didn''t feel even enough and I have issues with that. Anyway, what I ultimately settled on was a two by two by two method for Stats.
  • I began with the strictly physical AKA STR/SPD.
    • Direct changes to Greg''s muscle, hormones, bones, blood, fatty tissues, nerves. To be specific, it''s even down to the cells and ATP.
  • The half-physical/intangible(?) being VIT/INT as VIT both influence physical/neurological processes but also affect him intangibly with energy.
    • VIT also affects him on a cellular level, controlling his rate of cell division, etc. In addition, it changes his blood chemistry, slowly increasing his resistance to pain by affecting his leuenkephalin as well as rerouting how his blood vessels work and are routed in addition to their makeup.
    • INT literally rewires his brain and nerves, amygdala, visual cortex, retinal reflectivity, cross-wiring, expanded corpus callosum, cortical folding, glial cell density, etc. You fucking name it,INT does it.
  • I ended with the strictly intangible being WIS/CHA because you fucking get why.
  • Anyway, physical-based STAT perks also affect him on the same level.
Anyway, back to how INT actually affects how Greg thinks and processes. I don''t know if any of you have read a book called Blindsight by Canadian author Peter Watts. It''s a very interesting novel and it influenced how I understood Worm and helped me grow as a writer. It also left me with a new understanding of the concept of intelligence as it''s rather hard science-fiction focused on the concept of intelligence, sapience, consciousness and the mind and based in cutting-edge scientific theory (at least for 2006). Really, the entire point of Blindsight, or at least part of it, is that awareness, sapience, conscious thought is not really needed for intelligence. You don''t need to be aware of yourself or the fact that your brain meat works better for it to simply work better. In fact, Watts would argue that awareness gets in the way of intelligence and how the brain actually works, wasting energy on all that shit like feelings and introspection that could be used to make the brain actually work better. The best way to get into the way of your own brain, your own natural intelligence, is to think about what you''re doing. A pianist or a dancer or a fucking writer overthinking what they''re doing will freeze up, fuck up, and fail. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Probably a good reason as to why Scion''s species became what they were. They didn''t waste brain meat on anything else. To elaborate, if a 9 year old can do complex mathematics in his head in five seconds that most adults would struggle to get the answer for with a calculator and five extra minutes but he doesn''t know how to talk about his feelings with the right vocabulary, do you really think those adults are smarter than that kid, huh? Getting to my point, Watt''s book helped me understand that most of what we understand as intelligence is unconscious. INT in Greg Vs has nothing to do with advanced reasoning, introspection, feelings and creative thinking and all that. That''s a very human element, the field of WIS, and if you haven''t caught on by now, I''ve been purposefully molding Greg into a very inhuman protagonist. Really, the only thing making that not entirely obvious is his personality layered over it. It''s like a delicious cake with sprinkles and frosting on top but with cyanide baked within. Anyway, yeah, so in Blindsight, Vampires are also a thing, basically a genetic throwback that used to prey on humans in early times before written history but who happened to die out. Anyway, scientists recovered the genes for vampirism in humans after trying to cure autism and instead creating a vampire child. If you haven''t seen the thread here, yeah, I''ve based Greg off of what the book considers "obligate cannibals with psychopathy built into them on a genetic level", or something. I dunno, it''s along those lines, basically, Im fucking paraphrasing. It''s been a decade since I started the book and gave up because I was busy. I don''t really remember it all that well. Really, I only restarted and finished it two years halfway through this story. Back to the point YET AGAIN, Aspects of INTELLIGENCE/INTELLECT that we have no control over that I have implemented in this story
  1. Omnisavantic pattern-matching and analytical ability
  2. Inhuman calculation skills (that''s been there since like arc 2?)
  3. Faster firing neurons
  4. Enhanced ability to process large numbers of things and be aware of how many there are. Much the same way a normal person can see three marbles and immediately know there are three without counting, Greg can do that for thirty marbles.
  5. Enhanced unconscious reflexes.
  6. Etcetera and etcetera
Effectively, I''m going with the true nature of intelligence, the brain being a survival engine not an awareness engine. Okay? For instance, gorillas have brains almost one-and-half again the size of orangutans and with more neurons while chimpanzees brains are also larger than the orangutans. Guess which great ape has more self-awareness and is more "conscious" and aware than the others? That''s right, the goddamn orangutan. Long story short, Greg''s not "stupid". Intelligence is just not as simple as a lot of people think it is. Greg as a character was not neuro-normative in the first place. I''m just having fun with a different idea of it. I''ve put a LOT of thought into this. A LOT. Cutscene: Tinker Toys Cutscene: Tinker Toys The bearded Tinker leaned forward over his workstation, feeling the chair adjust automatically to his movements. The room was silent, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning system ¨C a sound that his keen ears picked up amidst the tranquility. With a single hand, he shuffled through the collection of writings arrayed on his desk, his own handwriting neat and crisp despite his mental state having been what it was when he made them. His other hand cupped his chin, two fingers barely managing to conceal the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. Even in his most chaotic mental state, Colin took solace in the fact that he hadn''t solely relied on analog methods of data storage. Much of his writings were also recorded within several tablets on the table, their digital counterparts offering a level of organization and accessibility that paper alone could not provide. Redirecting his focus from the physical notes, Colin reached for the nearest tablet and raised it to his face. Glowing blue holographic text flickered across the screen, lines of code and schematics swirling and shifting in response to the slightest gesture of his fingers. With a careful gaze, Colin scrolled through various schematics that danced across the screen, eyes focused but brighter than they had been in months as they took in the notes he had made. Notes that were making far more sense to him now than they did weeks ago. ¡°Hm.¡± It was not often that Armsmaster found himself in a good mood. Most days often followed one another in a haze of Tinkering, maintenance, patrols and meetings. Not necessarily in that order, but he considered that sequence the general level of importance to assign them in his head. The endless cycle often left him feeling drained and detached, more often than not. Every now and again, though, that routine would be interrupted with the occasional cape fight or public appearance, but the latter didn¡¯t take place as often as you would think, even in a city like Brockton Bay. Granted, when they did, they were intense, disruptive, and potentially hyper-lethal, but that was the standard, after all. Even when the routine was broken, it was still routine. Being as jovial and positively carefree as he had been of late was a stunning break to said routine, however, and one that Armsmaster found himself often struggling to recapture. It was rare enough when it happened, and it was stunningly fleeting when it did. Many who knew him¡ªprofessionally, personally or both, albeit the former far outnumbered the latter¡ªwould be hard-pressed to say they had ever seen so much as a smile on his face. Those same individuals would actually go so far as to say they didn¡¯t believe it was possible for him to smile, a somewhat insulting statement but not necessarily unexpected. He knew this not-so-fun fact because he had better hearing than most would think, outside of his suit but especially inside of it. Again, he wasn¡¯t offended by this. Colin was acutely aware of the impression he made on others and how he presented himself. More often than not, he leaned into those expectations, preferring not to expend unnecessary effort on being personable when it wasn''t absolutely required. He considered such attempts a waste of time, both in the short and long term. Hence, his surprise that he had been in a mood that he could only describe as good for what was nearing well over a month. An unexpected surprise, but not necessarily an unappreciated one. With a simple nod, Colin rose from his workstation, tablet in hand, and walked over to the far wall of his private rest area. He pressed his palm against a barely-raised section of the wall, which indented almost immediately as skin met surface. After a brief pause, the scanner beeped its confirmation, and with a quiet hiss, the door to his lab slid open. Colin stepped through, rubbing his eyes as he entered. The stark white light contrasted sharply with the warm tones of his private room. He paused for a moment, surveying the gleaming white walls, the hyper-sanitized environment, and the bleeding-edge equipment that most Tinkers would likely¡ªand probably¡ªkill to have access to. The temperature was perfectly controlled at a constant 25 degrees Celsius, the ideal environment for delicate machinery, and the air smelled faintly of ozone, a byproduct of the powerful electromagnetic fields generated by the lab''s many machines. Colin took a deep breath, feeling the rush of purified oxygen flood his lungs, and savored the moment of stillness before he started moving once more. He made his way over to a nearby shelf, eyes trailing over the surface of the metal as he scanned the labels of the various tools and materials that were carefully organized there. Everything was in its proper place, neatly sorted and arranged, as he was well aware that even the smallest deviation could have catastrophic consequences for his work. After a few more moments, Colin came to a stop in front of an enclosure on the wall, the capsule¡¯s doors sliding open with a pneumatic hiss as the Tinker approached it with a purposeful stride. Polished blue-and-silver externals gleamed under the bright overhead lights, the accompanying skinsuit and the newest model of both his helm and halberd encased alongside the brand-new armor. He noted the slight smile on his face reflected back at him from the metal-and-carbon fiber that made up the externals of his newest power armor. With a slight glance to his right, Colin gestured towards the similar enclosure just a meter or two away. With an identical hiss, the capsule opened up just like the first displaying the model he was preparing to retire, the suit looking much less welcoming than it once had. His gaze swiveled between them both as he raised a finger to tap a command into the tablet in his hand. Obediently, the first suit of armor opened itself up, its mechanisms unfolding with a faint hiss of compressed air. As it did, the Protectorate Tinker¡¯s eyes flicked over the intricate array of circuits and sensors that lay exposed beneath the titanium nanocomposite outer bodysuit. Barely two meters to the side of the first suit, standing by itself on the wall in an enclosure of its own, was its predecessor. Colin watched as its mechanisms opened outwards in a slightly off-sync mimicry of its replacement. This suit had been his pride and joy for years, but now¡­ Not good enough. As he scrutinized the mechanisms, Colin couldn''t help but feel a sense of pride mixed with a tinge of melancholy the longer he looked on. The older armor, with its almost completely blue externals, had served him well for years, the Tinker having upgraded and tweaked it to its near limit, but that was far from enough. He wasn¡¯t sure what he had been thinking, really. Spending increasing hours and hours every day making extensive changes and effectively pointlessly time-consuming alterations just for a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of an increase in performance. It was the epitome of a waste of both his time and effort. And to think, he had once been approaching something near satisfaction with his improvements to his armor. But now¡­ Now it was clear to him just how much it had fallen behind his current standards. Just the movements of the older suit alone were slow and almost disjointed in comparison, its actuators and servos not nearly as smooth and precise as those in the newer version, explaining its lack of flexibility and responsiveness. As he continued to examine the armored suits, Colin began to notice more and more subtle differences between the two. In comparison to the clunky, to him, nature of his previous armor, the newer suit moved with the natural gait of a human body on its own even without him in it. For a moment, Armsmaster felt the slight urge to frown as his attention remained drawn to the sluggish response times of his older design. To his current standards, the armor of just thirty days ago felt years out of date, antiquated even. Damn near obsolete, in comparison. The urge faded quickly, though, as he glanced back at his current armor, something just short of a grin spreading across his face at his own handiwork. His eyes traced over the hydrostatic gel layered into the inner skin-suit as it shimmered in the harsh fluorescent lighting, Key to his survival, it provided a degree of cushioning and support from the pressures of operating his armor. Not only that, but it was exceedingly comfortable as it molded itself perfectly to the contours of his body, a sight that would have been met with the approval of Narwhal, if no one else¡¯s. He had started work on the new armor design in fits and spurts, the entire process beginning with what had at first just started with what was intended to be a complete overhaul to its artificial muscle systems. What he had ended up with, after several intense Tinker fugues, was the largest-scale refactoring of his armor designs he¡¯d done in nearly a decade. The first had begun quite literally a month ago, nearly to the day in fact. Inspiration had dropped onto him from the most unexpected source, causing something of a revelation. No, more than that. While the term had religious connotations that he¡¯d rather not associate his work with, it almost felt like there was no other way to describe it than nothing short of¡­ Well, an epiphany. ------------------ "Hello, Colin." The sound of a voice caught him by surprise, and the Tinker blinked the exhaustion from his eyes, the familiar ache in his back and hesitation in his muscles, from long periods of work suddenly making itself known as he drifted back into awareness. Armsmaster stared down at his fingers, precision tools falling from his clawed grip onto the table in front of him. "D-Dragon?" His voice wavered, a testament to his weariness. "H-how¡­ how long?" He didn''t need to finish the question; the mere statement was enough for Dragon, of all people, to know what he was referring to. "A little over nine hours this time," she replied, her digitized voice carrying a note of concern. "¡­oh." His face contorted with a mix of disbelief and self-reproach. "Indeed," Dragon''s image shifted on the screen, her digitized avatar''s expression changing to a visible frown. "I''ve been checking on you in thirty-minute intervals after the first five." Armsmaster opened his mouth to say something in return ¡ªa thank you, possibly¡ª only to glance down at the table in front of him and lose track of everything else on his tired mind almost immediately. The once organized workspace had been transformed into a chaotic mess of disassembled gadgets and blueprints, an aftermath of his single-minded focus. His gaze wandered over the scattered components, each one a testament to his relentless pursuit of perfection. Armsmaster''s obsession with improvement was both his greatest strength and his most persistent weakness. The dedication to his craft had led him to remarkable achievements, but at the same time, it had isolated him from others and robbed him of the balance in his life. He felt the weight of Dragon''s concerned gaze on him, and he squared his shoulders, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "I... I appreciate your vigilance, Dragon," he said, his voice strained with fatigue. "I simply lost track of time." "You need to take better care of yourself,¡± she admonished, voice soft yet firm. "Your work is important, but so is your well-being." Armsmaster sighed, conceding to her point. His body ached, and his mind felt as if it were running through a thick fog. He knew he needed rest, but the drive for progress pushed him to continue despite the toll it took. "I know, I know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in a futile attempt to alleviate the tension. "I''ll¡­ try to do better." Dragon''s avatar smiled, a small gesture of reassurance. "That''s all I ask, Colin." ------------------ It had, in fact, been the inquisitive review of a certain individual''s medical scans that sent his mind into a state of disassociation that nearly every Tinker was familiar with and, more often than not, sought to induce. It was a highly unique and irrefutably interesting state of mind to suddenly know something so deeply that its inner workings become instinctual and ingrained, almost a thing of the body itself rather than the mind. If he were a more philosophical man, he might have spent countless days pondering over if his abilities simply decided to grant him some expertise ex nihilo or if his mind was just enhanced enough to draw these connections from its own heuristic system. Regardless of the means, time was meaningless when he was deep in the hyper-focused fugue state that Tinkering often brought on. Save for the inherent limits of his physical body and the necessities it required, he wouldn¡¯t be surprised if it was possible for him to simply Tinker indefinitely, improving on improvements he had just made until he eventually reached a hard limit. If such a thing exists¡­ Anyway, by the time Armsmaster had come back up for air that first day, he''d had the bare bones of a brand new suit lying right in front of him. It was at that point that he knew he couldn''t turn back to what he had grown used to. What he had put together that day would be his step forward, he knew that. The inspiration had been one part, a necessary part, but still only one part. The second and most important part had been an almost-forgotten present from Dragon ¡ª a birthday present, of course ¡ª because who else would celebrate his birthday? Granted, the issue with that wasn''t others choosing not to, it was his own negative response to his birthday. He didn¡¯t mind sharing the time to enjoy other¡¯s celebrations but with every year, his own birthday was just a reminder of his passing age and eventual shift into decrepit obsolescence. Armsmaster sighed, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt his mood drop slightly with his own thoughts. No one better than yourself at ruining a good time. Anyway, the gift itself had been a two-parter; a carbon metamaterial, nano-gel insulated at that, along with a much smaller amount of a piezoelectric reactive liquid metal. While both Tinkering materials had been appreciated, especially given the effort and time required in the manufacture of the latter, Armsmaster had simply been unable to truly utilize either at the time. Granted, that had been more of a lack of desire rather than ability to do so, but he had been focused on maximizing the efficiency of his current designs rather than setting himself back by creating something entirely new. Yet those same metamaterials had finally been put to use - good use, at that. Hours and hours of painstaking work he could barely recall had laid the groundwork for a new set of power armor, layers of metamaterial patterned into the myofibril structure of his new suit with the liquid metal serving as a layer in between, the former placed in specific patterns that even now seemed imprinted onto his memory. Of course, Armsmaster knew he likely could have done it without the metamaterials at hand but it would have been like knowing how to bake a cake without the proper ingredients at hand. Or rather, maybe it would be more comparable to chiseling Michelangelo''s David out of simple cheap wood. Either way, it wouldn''t be nearly the same. By the end of his efforts that week, Armsmaster had in front of him a suit that stood head and shoulders over all his previous ones. He had no other way to define it other than simply a massive leap forward in his own potential. What else would you call a massive increase in strength, durability, agility and responsiveness all across the board, after all? The incredible breakthrough had almost made his hours of Tinkering everyday to eke out a fraction of a single percent of improvement seem pointless. Almost. Building on top of his old designs with the addition of the new concepts had allowed him to make the most of the muscle analogues the undersuit portion of his armor utilized as well as that of the external exoskeleton musculature. With the nature of the rigid yet reactive undersuit designed to support and protect him while working in tandem with the enhancile nature of the polymers¡­ Well, the capabilities spoke for themselves. Each thin cord of meta-matrix polycarbonate synthetic muscle fiber already had five times the tensile strength of elastomers, allowing for a potential force projection easily two hundred times past that of human norms. And with all those corded sym-muscle bundles built into the skeletal frame of his armor along with the reactive gel layer amplifying the force even further, the ability to kick a car across a street lengthwise was well within the realm of possibility. A near flawless amplification of speed and power. And to think, he still wasn''t finished. Not even after weeks of Tinkering. Colin glanced down at his tablet, a slight sense of unease as he reviewed the specs of his new armor. The battery life suffered an 18 point percentage drop compared to the previous armor¡¯s and that was accounting for physical parameters on par with that of said older model. Defaulting to the standard output would result in at least a 50% drop in expected operational hours, and that was without taking into account the more advanced capabilities he had included into the new design. The Tinker shook his head with slight frustration, mouth twitching slightly downwards as he once again gave the numbers a once-over. Not to mention, the cooling system¡­ he mused with a hand on his chin. Need to work on that. Said cooling system was far less efficient than he felt in any way comfortable with, a potential worry for the future. That ignored the fact that the armor had yet to be entirely proofed against electromagnetic interference, let alone the more exotic capabilities some capes could bring to battle. No, even after being given the approval to use this armor in the field, Armsmaster still wasn¡¯t satisfied with what he had done. Still not finished yet, he mused. Though, really, he doubted he would ever consider it finished. It especially hadn''t been finished when he had taken the suit out to keep Lung at bay, especially considering the muscle underlay had still been visible, but the suit had once again shown its worth. While direct combat would have been a different story, the thermoneutrality of the metamaterial design had made weathering the indirect effects of Lung''s flames much less of a problem than in the past. ¡°Note to self: Thermal insulation is a priority for the near future; temperature regulation a necessity,¡± Armsmaster muttered the words to himself, already compartmentalizing the thought for later. The Tinker took a few steps back and stretched his brawny arms outwards as he kept his gaze on his wall of armor. After a moment, a slight frown crossed his face as he focused his attention on the new set of armor once again and gave it another once-over. ¡°In addition, additional jump jets for potential pauldron or greave upgrades; improved mobility is a must. Short-term flight, a likelihood.¡± He nodded slightly. ¡°Would need an ion cyclotron resonance frequency booster to even begin, though.¡± Granted, the PRT had not originally been pleased with the use of an untested and unreviewed suit in the field but Armsmaster truly couldn''t find it in him to care. Even after having to wait two weeks to receive actual approval for his new suit, he wasn¡¯t truly so irritated as to lose his good mood. Two weeks, though, the Tinker mused to himself incredulously. They act as if I''m Kid Win with no idea of what I¡¯m creating. Insane. He had been too happy to expend the effort to worry about any reprimand he would receive, verbal or otherwise, for using the suit without approval. Even Piggot¡¯s general attitude over the last few weeks barely put a dent in his mood. Hell, he had been far too happy in general to care about anything. After all, why wouldn¡¯t he be? This new suit would elevate him in a way he hadn''t thought possible for years¡­ But still number two. His expression shifted downwards again, the slight smile he had been wearing now a frown as the errant thought intruded on his good mood. Still never good enough. Colin understood very well what it meant to be a leader. He also knew what the importance of strength meant when it came to leadership. He knew it especially well being a Tinker, and even if he didn¡¯t, a multitude of strangers on the Internet would make sure he was quickly made aware of that fact. No one in his team understood his mindset or the pressure it took to be him. No one would look up to Legend, Alexandria or Eidolon if they were not the absolute strongest the Protectorate had to offer. And he¡­ He wasn¡¯t even the strongest on his own team. Not yet, at least. Not quite yet. Even then, it might not make much difference. Colin pushed his thoughts away from his weapon as he turned around and made his way across his austere lab. As he approached his primary workstation, the man dropped himself into his chair with a heavy sigh. With another heavy breath, the Protectorate hero turned to grab hold of a tablet computer sitting on a metal desk just to his right. With barely a glance at the screen proper, he flicked and tapped his way through the device until he finally arrived at what he needed. [. . . . . . .]
[System Bootup Sequence Initiated] System Clock: Friday May 13 11:11:04 EST 2011 Initializing CHALLENGER-SYSTEM¡­ > A.R.M. BIOS LOADING¡­ > BIOS Version: CHALLENGER // VER 1.22.12 > CHALLENGER-SYSTEM Diagnostics Beginning¡­ > Running System Diagnostics¡­ > System Diagnostics complete. > Booting A.R.M. Suit variant-CHALLENGER¡­ > A.R.M. Suit variant-CHALLENGER ONLINE CHALLENGER-Sys Init Completed. Checking system components... -Power Supply: Online -Mainframe: Online -Memory: Online -Processor: Online -Communications: Online -Sensors: Online -Thrusters: Online -Armor: Online > Auto-Detecting A.R.M Suit Extensions. . . . A.R.M Suit variant-CHALLENGER extension startup initiated. Running extension diagnostics¡­ Full Extension Check
  • Accelerated Response & Mitigation- [ONLINE]
  • Bio-Monitor¡­ 100%
  • Combat Analyzer¡­ 100%
  • Combat Predictor¡­ 100%
  • Electro/Echolocation ¡­ 100%
  • Infrared Sensors¡­ 100%
  • Motion Tracker¡­ 100%
  • Night Vision ¡­ 100%
  • Real Time Translation¡­ 100%
  • Visual Scanner¡­ 100%
  • Vocal Stress Analyser¡­ 100%
  • Active Responsive Mimicry - [ONLINE]
  • Actuator Reflexion Management - [ONLINE]
  • Acrobatic Reactionary Motion - [ONLINE]
  • Adaptive Response Modules - [ONLINE]
  • Advanced Reactive Motors - [ONLINE]
  • Aero-Responsive Maneuvering - [ONLINE]
  • Armor Rotational Maintenance - [ONLINE]
  • Anti-Radiation Module - [ONLINE]
  • Armored Resistance Mechanism - [ONLINE]
  • Articulated Reactor Module - [ONLINE]
  • Artificial Reality Matrix - [ONLINE]
  • Atmospheric Reconditioning Module - [ONLINE]
  • Augmented Reality Movement - [ONLINE]
  • Automated Repair Module - [ONLINE]
  • Automated Resupply Management - [ONLINE]
[All Extensions Operational] Running Adaptive Response Module diagnostics¡­
  • ARM-ATLAS: Atmospheric Terrain Landscape Analysis & Scouting
  • ARM-ALERT: Adaptive Lethal Enforcement & Rapid Takedown
  • ARM-BARRIER: Biological Area Respiration Response & Isolation Extension Rig
  • ARM-CANNON: Compact Artillery, Non-lethal Neutralization Of Non-Civilians
  • ARM-COMMS: Communication Optimization & Message Management System
  • ARM-CORE: Centralized Operations & Real-time Engagement
  • ARM-FIRE: Firefighting & Incident Response Enhancement
  • ARM-GRID: Geographic Routing Intelligence & Directional Guidance
  • ARM-HACK: High-Level Access Cybersecurity Kit
  • ARM-LOCK: Load Optimization & Combat Kinematics
  • ARM-MEDIC: Medical Emergency Detection & Intervention Capabilities
  • ARM-ORY: Ordinance Requisition & Yielding
  • ARM-SCOPE: Scanning & Computational Optical Precision Enhancement
  • ARM-SPARK: System Power & Auxiliary Reactor Kickstart
  • ARM-SWIFT: Special Weapons & Interdiction of Fast-moving Targets
  • ARM-TRACK: Target Recognition, Acquisition & Combat Kinematics
[Adaptive Responsive Modules Operational] If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. > All Systems Nominal > All Extensions Online. > All Adaptive Response Modules Online. > No Critical Issues Detected. > Initiating Closed Network Connection Sequence. > NETWORK ONLINE 0.801.25.392.1 > Now Connected to Closed Network. > Connection Secure. > Boot Sequence Complete. > Diagnostics Complete. > Power levels at 100% percent capacity and steady. > Projected length of time till shutdown: 47.2 hours at average levels of usage.
Nearly complete, Colin mused, clicking his tongue as he allowed his mind to wander. But the Adaptive Reactor Management requires some improvement to maximize the suit¡¯s battery life. It goes without saying that the Advanced Resonant Metamaterials need to be elevated in priority, as well. But those thrusters, however¡­ The bearded Tinker nodded his head. Table that for l- ¡°Armsmaster?¡± Colin found himself harshly pulled from his diagnostics; the sound of his moniker being repeated once again quenching any attempts at maintaining his usual laser-focus. ¡°Armsmaster?¡± The man in question raised his head from his tablet, the insistent sound of Miss Militia¡¯s voice ringing loud and clear over the speaker of his workshop. Placing the device down on the table in front of him, the Protectorate leader rose from his seat, a response on his lips that he knew she would hear. ¡°Militia, what can I assist you with?¡± ¡°I¡­ I tried to contact you through your comms earlier but you didn¡¯t respond, I assumed you also wouldn¡¯t be in your room,¡± she replied, a slight hesitance to her words even as her tone came off rather flat. ¡°So, I decided to meet you where I knew you would be.¡± The Tinker paused slightly at that, blinking as he recalled the contact request he had ignored while in the middle of some armor upgrades roughly an hour prior. ¡°Yes, I was occupied at the time but we can speak in a moment. I¡¯m almost done.¡± With a few deft keystrokes, his armors ¡ª new and old ¡ª began to recess back into the walls, pneumatic hisses of air releasing as mechanized doors sealed the Tinker-tech away until he would next need it. As the doors finally closed, the bearded hero strode across the cold metal tiles of his workshop and quickly opened a steel cabinet to withdraw what he needed. With practiced efficiency, he threw a pristine white lab coat over what he was currently wearing ¡ª a simple T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts bearing his own logo. Taking a moment to both clear his throat and button the coat to a degree he felt appropriate and professional, Armsmaster turned back around to face the entrance to his lab and spoke. ¡°You¡¯re free to enter.¡± The sentence was directed to both his visitor as well as the room itself, the locking mechanism to his workshop¡¯s door responding. A second later, the door slid open with a hiss to reveal a waiting Miss Militia. Armsmaster observed as his second-in-command entered the room in full costume, a patriotic bandana resting around her neck, leaving her face fully exposed. Her expression was tight, lips pressed together in a way that suggested a restrained frown. Her body language mirrored her face, hands flat at her sides in a deliberate attempt to give nothing away. The only thing that spoke to her tension was the glowing weapon at her hip, a sheathed bowie knife silently buzzing with a miasma of green-black energy around it. Being the man that he was, he paid no real mind to any of this. Armsmaster simply turned around and adjusted his expression into what he hoped was a welcoming, if restrained smile. Shifting his body language as she entered, the cape straightened his back and clasped his hands behind him in a more professional manner. His tone, too, became more formal and business-like as he finally spoke. "Miss Militia," he greeted her with a careful nod, "What brings you here?" She hesitated before speaking, regaining her composure with a shake of her head. "It''s about the boy." The flag-bearing cape blinked after a moment, quickly correcting herself as she said. ¡°The cape, I mean. The new one.¡± Armsmaster nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°Yes, Hardkour.¡± The name left his lips in a clipped tone, the man seemingly mulling it over as he spoke it. ¡°He is an interesting one.¡± Militia¡¯s eyes narrowed, the woman taking a step forward as actual indignation filled her tone despite her seeming calm. ¡°Interesting? Colin, he¡¯s killed dozens of people.¡± First names, Armsmaster noted, slight confusion filling him for a moment. He had assumed this was a strictly business matter, given Militia¡¯s use of their codenames in a private location. No, given her response to that, this is clearly a matter of a personal nature to her. Acting accordingly, Colin let out a slight hum and relaxed his stance slightly, bringing his hands out from behind him to rest at his sides. ¡°Hannah, their deaths were unfortunate but given the situation at the time, we could consider them expected losses.¡± Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, staring back at Colin with an expression that told him that his answer hadn¡¯t quite met her standards. The Bowie knife at her hip seemed to shudder violently as she locked her arms in place. ¡°Since when did murder become an expected loss?¡± He responded with a firm glance of his own, eyes narrowed. ¡°Since Brockton Bay became at risk of turning into a crater.¡± Hannah¡¯s gaze flickered with an unreadable emotion, and she seemed to gather herself for a moment. Colin observed her carefully, his own expression remaining neutral, almost impassive. Her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke again, "Do you truly believe that justifies his actions?" The Tinker in the room sighed, internally bracing himself for the conversation he knew was coming. "I understand your concerns, Hannah, but justification isn¡¯t our place. I¡¯m certain the PRT itself doesn¡¯t really have an opinion on ¡®justification¡¯ past officially condemning his actions, either.¡± Colin paused to take a breath, gauging how best to phrase the statement he knew would incense Militia. ¡°Regardless of Battery¡¯s unauthorized actions, our current strategy isn''t even focused on apprehending Hardkour immediately. We''re planning to observe him, yes, but not actively pursue him." Hannah''s eyebrows shot up; her voice incredulous as she responded immediately. "Why on earth wouldn''t we? He''s killed people, attacked our own team members, and threw a van into a building! He set a street on fire, Colin!" ¡°A street we are both aware was owned by Empire proxies, and a fire he put out almost immediately after,¡± the Tinker corrected dispassionately. ¡°But-!¡± Colin held up a hand, trying to stem the flow of her indignation. "Yes, I''m aware of the implication of his chosen actions, but I¡¯m not going to argue on the result. As for his other transgressions, you¡¯re being blinded by your own sense of duty. You need to consider the bigger picture.¡± ¡°I¡¯m well aware of the bigger picture, sir,¡± Militia¡¯s voice shifted, her tone nearly matching the chill of his lab as her eyes narrowed. ¡°That wasn¡¯t meant to offend, Hannah,¡± Colin didn¡¯t flinch as he responded. ¡°And no. No, you are not. The boy is a distraction.¡± Militia raised a single eyebrow, the rest of her unmoving as she waited on her superior to continue speaking. He rolled his shoulders slightly in his lab coat, the action seemingly halfway between a shrug and a shake of his head as he corrected himself. ¡°Well, not so much as a distraction as a wrecking ball.¡± Hannah tilted her own head forward slightly, a hint of irritation visible in her eyes even as she kept her tone cordial. ¡°That answered very little.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware. You¡¯re lacking context¡­¡± Colin began calmly, unbothered by his subordinate¡¯s disquiet. ¡°Our ultimate intention is to use him as a tool to trim down the villain population of Brockton Bay to a more reasonable degree before effectively railroading him into the Wards. Upon doing so, we will use him as a warning to external attempts to infiltrate and revive Brockton Bay¡¯s villain epidemic.¡± The room was silent for a few long seconds, the quiet only interrupted by the hum of machinery and near-silent buzz of air conditioning. Finally, Militia broke that with a single, confused, ¡°What?¡± ¡°I shared this idea with Piggot and Calvert not too long ago, and they considered it a suitable method of engagement,¡± Armsmaster continued on, a slight chuckle leaving him as he gave his subordinate a slight smile. ¡°And just last week, I was informed that my proposal was rubber-stamped by the Chief Director herself. I¡¯m rather proud of myself, actually.¡± Colin raised an eyebrow at Miss Militia¡¯s clear surprise, her body tensing with the shock of the revelation. ¡°Did I forget to tell you? I apologize. I¡¯ve been rather occupied with th-¡± "Apology accepted,¡± Hannah replied tersely as she interrupted the Tinker as he gestured behind him, the man about to launch into an explanation on something she clearly found irrelevant. She took a deep breath, hands on her hips as her weapon began to buzz a tad more violently. ¡°But please, more details. I¡¯m a little lost right now." Colin nodded; arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the cool metal of a nearby workbench. He tilted his head to the side, gaze tracking across his lab before he brought his attention back to Militia. "Well, first of all, Hardkour¡¯s effectively an unwilling participant in our strategy towards finally reclaiming the city, a primary part as well. Simply put, he serves as a distraction for the Empire, keeping them occupied." "And why do we need them occupied?" Hannah questioned him, her gaze fixed on him. Colin kept his gaze on her, both of them silent as they kept eye contact. There was a depth of emotion to Miss Militia that most wouldn¡¯t have noticed from the woman, given that she did her very best to stick to her duties and the standard of whatever orders she was given. It certainly didn¡¯t help that her chosen method of concealing her identity went against Protectorate standards and made it even harder to read her face. Still, though, despite how dutifully she followed commands and protocol when out in the field, the woman was undeniably a bleeding heart in private. Truthfully, Colin couldn¡¯t help but find it admirable. With a slight shake of his head, the Tinker¡¯s thoughts turned towards the brewing war he expected to reach Brockton Bay any day now, the pincer attack intent on engulfing the city and throwing it into another disaster. News from Boston and New York had made it clear that movement was being seen from the Sky Triad and Flying Dragons, both multinational Asian gangs based in those respective cities. While the Triad was largely Chinese in makeup, while the Dragons were predominantly Japanese, both gangs had a good number of parahumans. Despite that, most were either too weak or lacking the determination to stand out against the other villain groups or heroic parahumans in the cities they resided in. Having them move towards Brockton Bay, though, would be disastrous. Colin nodded his head slowly as he looked up at Hannah, the decision to lay it all out on the table one he had already made. "Having him occupied with the Empire allows us our best opportunity to keep the bay from devolving into another warzone. I have it on good authority that the Sky Triad and the Flying Dragons are intent on making a move towards our city. While they are at odds with each other, as far as we can tell, they both share three goals. One, to replace Lung as the primary power in Brockton Bay. Two, to take over what remains of the ABB. And three," the Tinker paused to let out a sigh, ¡°to publicly kill Hardkour to solidify both prior goals.¡± One could almost hear a pin drop in the lab as Hannah''s eyes widened. "¡­What?" "Yes, my reaction was¡­ similar," he admitted, albeit not exactly truthfully. His was much quieter. "While it¡¯s not exactly confirmed, I have heard reports that the ABB has a new leader, but information is surprisingly limited on this. Given who I suspect it is, the Thinkers at WEDG are¡­ about as useful in this situation as I would expect. The precogs, especially.¡± Militia nodded at Armsmaster¡¯s words., confusion clear in her eyes as she took in the information. ¡°I¡­ see.¡± "Back to the point,¡± Colin began again, mouth turning down slightly, ¡°apprehending the boy would not be as easy as you might believe.¡± ¡°And why not?¡± Hannah¡¯s eyes narrowed, the patriotic cape standing up straight as she questioned Armsmaster once again. "From what Battery informed us, he''s a high-speed Mover but nothing outside of Velocity''s pace. We could have him trapped, foamed and at PRT HQ within the week." Colin shook his head, the man looking Militia right in the eyes with an expression that rang with something approaching tiredness. "I''d argue that you''d be underestimating the same cape that took on Lung." Miss Militia''s eyebrows rose high as Armsmaster''s words sunk in. "¡­You¡¯re joking." Armsmaster mimicked her, a single eyebrow doing the work of two. "How often does that happen?¡± ¡°Fair enough, but¡­¡± Miss Militia shook her head, her brow furrowed in disbelief. "But that makes no sense. The vast array of powers, the differing ability, strength, everything¡­" After a moment of stunned silence, the woman shook her head again, hands on her hips as she glanced back up at a patiently nodding Armsmaster. "That''s just not how powers work!" Colin allowed himself a small scoff, devoid of derision. "Trust me, I''m well aware of how confusing it all is." His gaze flickered to the side, his thoughts swirling as he considered the strangeness of the case. ¡°The vast array of powers he''s shown across both identities, they simply don''t make sense, especially given the level of magnitude he seems to be able to display.¡± He looked back at Hannah, his gaze vibrant and curious as he continued to speak. "His regeneration ability, though? Especially potent and highly distinct. It''s how we confirmed the idea before all other evidence really managed to stick. Some of my cameras caught him on the day of Bakuda''s first attack - at least the ones that were still functioning. His body was entirely¡­" Colin paused, seemingly searching for the right words. After a few seconds, he gave up and shook his head with a slight laugh. "Truthfully, it''s rather hard to describe properly. Being entirely honest, I doubt that anyone has ever seen a human body in quite that shape and still intact." The Tinker held up a single hand before Miss Militia could ask another question, as his other reached for a thin tablet on a nearby table. He palmed the device quickly, raising it up to his second-in-command to take, the datapad¡¯s sleek blue surface bearing his logo. ¡°Here''s his unofficial case file, something I''ve been working with the analysis team to compile. Confidential, yes, but I''m authorizing this.¡± Placing the device in Miss Militia¡¯s hands, the woman accepted it with a look of reluctant curiosity.
[FOR PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM USE ONLY] SUBJECT: [¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€¨€] CODE NAME: Prodigy (Thinker Analysis posits self-aggrandizement rather than ability description) - White Knight (primary identity association) - Hardkour (secondary identity association; criminal activity and ABB affiliation) AGE: [¨€¨€¨€] - mid-teens (high confidence) CLASSIFICATION: Trump (8) Sub: (Brute/Mover (6), Shaker/Blaster (6)) - [All Ratings are tentative] DISPOSITION: Rogue (Civilians protected, but exhibits aggressive behavior towards Protectorate Heroes; criminal organization affiliations) LOCATION: Brockton Bay BACKGROUND: Subject first observed on April 1, 2011, attempting wall ascent. Trigger event estimated within preceding week. As Hardkour, engaged and injured Ward: Shadow Stalker, neutralizing Breaker ability. White Knight persona documented on April 6, 2011, defeating Lung to rescue now-Ward Lady Bug; recorded by villains Uber and L33t. Trump (8): Preliminary Thinker Analysis indicates evolving Trump ability; controllable-energy field (yellow) augmenting force/durability. Subject capable of extending field to weapons, producing Shaker/Blaster effects with intensified/focused application. Shaker/Blaster (6): Advanced Pyrokinesis and Aerokinesis exhibited. Significant scope/intensity; structure destruction potential. (Inconclusive) Thinker analysis posits city block range. [Ruin/Impact] Brute (6): Endures combat despite debilitating/potentially fatal damage; apparent pain/structural maneuverability loss immunity. - Substantial resistance to blunt force, heat damage, gunfire. - Superhuman strength demonstrated; van-lifting/launching capacity (15 meters, high velocity). - Regenerative capabilities observed; near-total organ damage recovery (12-hour period) Mover (6): Supersonic movement bursts, surface adhesion, wide-range attack evasion. Enhanced agility; leaps, elevated landings, advanced acrobatics feats. [Hurdle/Run] ¨CHeightened perception, reflexes, reaction times; requisite for high-speed movement. Fast-moving object tracking, projectile interception (e.g., crossbow bolts), bullet evasion. PERSONALITY: Thinker analysis (psychological evaluation corroborated) reveals Peter Pan-like attributes; narcissism, empathy deficiency, present-focused consequence disregard. Subject exhibits combative tendencies/latent hostility toward Protectorate/PRT authority; playful facade.
  • His regeneration and resilience has likely left him with a lack of care for his own mortality, implying he is likely to fight even against unfavorable odds.
  • Prodigy has proved combative and somewhat hostile towards Protectorate and PRT authority, said hostility hidden under a playful mask he is willing to discard if bored, annoyed or feeling insulted.
  • Approaching him with intent to recruit is ill-advised.
RECOMMENDED STRATEGIES: Upon hostility manifestation, maintain maximal engagement distance.
  • Civilian evacuation, Protectorate notification, backup request advised.
  • Minimum parahuman engagement: two.
  • Optimal candidates: Brutes/Breakers (melee skill nullification), Blasters/Shakers/Movers (movement impediment/immobilization), Strangers.
  • Subject''s inexperience/single-mindedness suggests trap vulnerability.
  • Containment foam may effectively restrain if accurately deployed.
  • Lethal force not authorized.
THREAT RANK B: HIGH THREAT PARAHUMAN
Militia''s expression was unreadable and remained that way the longer she stared at the tablet. Finally, she raised her gaze and simply handed the device back to an expectant Armsmaster. "All ratings are tentative." Despite the manner in which she said it, the question was clear. Armsmaster grunted, his face remaining impassive. "WGDG reports imply that he''s likely a growth-type Parahuman. With that in mind, hard ratings would only cause a potential issue of complacency." Miss Militia took that news silently, her only response a widening of her eyes. It was several seconds before she spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "So, they''re¡­" "One and the same?" Armsmaster nodded in response, glancing down to put aside his datapad. "That is the most likely option. Again, WEGDG is dragging their feet on giving me a definite answer, but voice analyses and appearance approximation leave us no other option, really. More outlandish possibilities are a cloning ability or powered projections that possess his appearance or even multiple personality disorder¡­¡± The bearded Tinker let out an uncharacteristic snort, slowly walking to the other side of the worktable that had been at his back to face Miss Militia again, ¡°but, again, those are far less likely. The only other option is some sort of cluster trigger, but given the realm of raw power on display, that¡¯s almost so far out of the realm of possibility for this situation it might as well be a joke." As Hannah took in his words, her fingers tensed around the tablet. She had heard mention of certain rumors like that, the idea that both capes could be one and the same, but she had dismissed them out of hand as the ridiculous online theories of those who didn''t understand the reality of parahumans. Multiple costumed personas and a buffet plate of powers was something belonging to old comic books and movie screens, not real life. While the latter was possible, it was just so rare that it fell just short of impossible. Militia looked up at Armsmaster, eyes grim as he had ever seen them. "Then we''re facing a possible Fairy Queen-level threat." ¡°Curious that you''d use that as an approximation of his abilities.¡± Colin couldn¡¯t help himself, the slight rise at the edge of his lips becoming more noticeable as he spoke. ¡°I might have argued that he is to Eidolon what Glory Girl is to Alexandria." Militia''s eyes flashed with irritation. "Does any of this really matter, Colin? We didn''t give this sort of leeway to Shadow Stalker. This¡­ All of it just sounds like you¡¯re making excuses for some pet project of your own." Armsmaster held her gaze, the man unyielding as he loomed over his worktable, powerful arms planted firmly on its surface. "Shadow Stalker was using lethal force on random muggers in alleyways. Shadow Stalker was not facing off against terrorists and large well-embedded gangs. She was barely even known to the public and certainly was not a national topic of discussion. You¡¯re comparing two entirely different situations in search of some level of equity that can''t be applied here.¡± His piercing eyes bore into those of his subordinate, willing her to understand the weight of his argument without him having to delve into the weeks of planning and strategy he had put into this. ¡°Two months ago, the boy was weak enough that Shadow Stalker was a potential threat to him even without the more deadly applications of her power in play, and a month later, he¡¯s clashing head-on with Lung at a stage the PRT hadn''t seen him in since he entered this city." He exhaled a heavy sigh, the tension in his broad shoulders briefly dissipating before they tightened again. "This has gone far past the point where we can treat him like some juvenile delinquent and throw him into the Wards after a talking-to. This requires strategy, Hannah." The patriotic cape could only glare back, the frustration she wore on her face betraying any attempts to hide the fact that she didn''t have a comeback. Armsmaster wasn''t one to care much about people''s feelings, at least not unless those people were members of the public, but even he couldn''t miss the annoyance and tension on display from his second-in-command. "I''m going to assume you have misgivings on the plans we have for¡­ the boy." Her voice was tense as she replied, "You''d assume correctly." Armsmaster''s gaze remained steady, the cold blue of his eyes betraying no emotion as he regarded Miss Militia. He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, as he attempted to convey the depth of his disagreement."Well, frankly, he''s too powerful and too well-known for us not to use, so I''m going to have to request that you shelve those concerns for now." Hannah¡¯s eyes narrowed, her voice sharpening with incredulity. "I would have struggled to do that even before you dropped on me that he was much stronger than I thought possible. He could break the sound barrier, Colin. The sound barrier!" Armsmaster nodded, his posture rigid, as if every muscle in his body was geared for some unfathomable calculation. "There''s not much we can do. You saw how he fought against Lung. None of us could contribute at that point, given that we have never seen Lung reach that stage before. I don''t know if you saw Battery''s helmet cam, but the boy was literally playing with them. We can''t afford to alienate a cape like that, at least not in the long run." Militia clenched her fists, frustration evident in her body language. "And your proposal to keep from alienating him is to allow a 15-year-old to fight an entire gang of super villains?" Colin tilted his head, the motion barely perceptible as he allowed himself a moment to ruminate over his own thoughts. "We are rather competent when it comes to our jobs; we certainly have the experience and the ability. However, competence only goes so far when faced with a large enough power gap. It keeps him occupied and complacent and, frankly, I don''t think Brockton Bay''s homicide rate could be much more alarming than it currently is." "That''s a horrible joke to make," Militia snapped, the corner of her left eye twitching with anger. "Then it''s a good thing I wasn''t joking," the Tinker replied, voice as cold as the steel of his halberd. Militia''s expression darkened. "I''d like to hope you''re not quite that... jaded." Armsmaster''s eyes flickered with something akin to irritation. "I formulated a plan to deal with the current situation in a manner everyone benefits from. It''s not an issue of being jaded, Hannah. It''s a matter of being realistic." "Throwing a child into a meat grinder is being realistic now?" Militia challenged. The woman stepped forward as the last syllable left her mouth. At her side, her weapon buzzed and shifted, more amorphous than anything as it switched between the shape of a knife, nightstick and a pair of brass knuckles in rapid succession. ¡°Is that what we¡¯re saying?¡± Armsmaster closed his eyes and sighed, well aware that the conversation was going in circles. As things were going, he''d never convince Miss Militia of anything. That was partly the reason he had chosen to delay informing her of the matters at hand. "That is a fair question, but before I give you an answer, I''d like to ask something of you in return." Militia frowned. "And what would that be?" Colin held her gaze, his expression resolute. "I want you to think carefully about something. Would you take a bullet to save one of the Wards?" "Of course!" Militia replied without hesitation, sounding almost insulted that Armsmaster would even ask. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t let them die.¡± "I don''t doubt it,¡± Armsmaster responded truthfully. ¡°However, would you jump in front of a bullet headed for Aegis?" Militia hesitated, her expression shifting. "B... but I wouldn''t need to." "And why is that?" "His powers... He wouldn''t be in any real dang...," Militia faltered, eyes losing focus as she began to think. Armsmaster simply leaned away from the table as he stood up straight, arms resting calmly at his sides as he raised an eyebrow, his point made. Militia let out a long sigh, the fight visibly seeming to escape the woman. "Alright. I see where you¡¯re coming from,¡± she finally conceded with another sigh. "Thank you," Colin replied. "Now granted, all of those things you have said about his behavior are true, but place everything he has done in the context of protecting what he feels is important to him ¡ª whether it''s family, his neighborhood, whatever ¡ª and also understand that his relative freedom to act against certain criminal elements in a way we can''t gives us ¡ª the legitimate protectors of this city ¡ª an opportunity down the road to both recruit him and do our job without being overwhelmed." "So, we''re just letting him run wild?" Militia''s voice carried a note of resigned disbelief. "No, certainly not. We are going to have to step in at some point. We can''t afford a Boston Games situation, of course." Armsmaster''s tone was firm, but underneath it, there was a trace of uncertainty. "Then when?" Militia pressed, her eyes searching deeper for any sign of doubt on his face. Colin clenched his teeth, the action keeping an annoyed sigh from slipping out. He respected Militia but she chose the strangest moments to be hard-headed and he never could understand why. "The issue that you''re failing to grasp, Hannah, is that the boy didn''t simply beat Lung or the ABB. He effectively decapitated their leadership, and claimed the entirety of the gang as his own. Along with the evidence that he left for the authorities to find, from what I''ve been able to uncover, the gang itself chose to self-maintain by eliminating those who would otherwise rebel against his actions. As Colin continued to speak, Militia''s body language tensed, her arms crossed defensively. "Even with the backing of the former ABB, he''s effectively a lesser threat compared to the Empire, simply due to what we know of his nature. On top of that, we''re aware of his identity, those of which he''s in costume as well as the civilian one that he believes is private. His motivations, family, friends, routine... They''re all cataloged, tracked, analyzed and monitored. We¡­ I know him better than he knows himself and all we need to do to stop him at any time is to elevate his threat level and request outside assistance. Any actual attempt to take him on now ¡ª much like Assault and Battery did against my recommendation to Piggot ¡ª would only allow him to counter our powers in the long run. Hell, if we tried to strong arm him to join, the boy would fight to the bitter end and for good reason. He¡¯d gain much more of a tangible bonus by pushing his limits against us than by simply coming in quietly. I mean, at least, it¡¯s what I¡¯d assume he¡¯d do,¡± Colin explained with a noticeable smile on his face. ¡°Any cape strong enough to defeat Lung at that point would consider the help of the PRT rather pointless, anyway,¡± he mumbled the last words to himself before quickly shaking his head. ¡°I''m aware that it might seem callous but allowing this boy to batter the Empire roughly the same way he tore through the ABB only serves to help us. Help the city, really." Militia frowned, her eyes narrowing. "¡­ You know, throughout everything you said, I honestly can''t decide if you''re empathizing with this kid or just using him.¡± After a moment, he shook her head. "Honestly, I''m not even sure what would be worse right now." Armsmaster''s expression betrayed nothing, the slight smirk he had been wearing throughout the entirety of his explanation nowhere to be seen as he shook his head. His thoughts raced, attempting to reconcile his feelings towards Dauntless and the boy in question, Greg. He had to admit that the resentment he felt towards Dauntless did not extend to the new cape, whom he had built a connection with and who had even inadvertently helped improve his own armor. Truthfully, he couldn''t harbor resentment for a boy who fought and bled for his power. Colin glanced back up, pulled from his thoughts by the slow, steady sound of retreating footsteps. "Militia¡­ Hannah¡­" The woman in fatigues paused by the door as Armsmaster¡¯s voice reached her. After a moment, she turned to face him. "What is it¡­ sir?" "Hannah,¡± Armsmaster barely repressed the urge to sigh. ¡°We''ve known each other too long for that. Just¡­ do you not see the logic in this plan?" Militia closed her eyes, unable to help herself as she internally acknowledged that she couldn''t disagree with that. After a few moments, she did the same externally albeit with a sigh. "As much as I''d like to argue the point, I do think you''re right. He''s far more dangerous than Shadow Stalker but¡­ if Shadow Stalker had his powerset, she''d probably have done much worse than what she has.¡± Militia sighed again, closing her eyes for a second before fixing Armsmaster with another glare. ¡°Still, that doesn''t justify this situation.¡± "You simply don''t understand." A good deal more frustrated than when she walked in, Miss Militia let out another exasperated sigh. "What do I not understand?" "This boy¡­ I''ve studied him. I know him." Armsmaster''s voice was steady and resolute, his gaze locked with Miss Militia''s. "I don''t¡ª" "Listen, I was dismissive of him at first. He''s reckless, cavalier, and frankly, he''s crossed the line more than a few times, I will admit." "Then why are you trying to defend him?" Hannah raised an eyebrow, her posture tense. ¡°That¡¯s not it at all.¡± Colin shook his head as he stared at Miss Militia, a patronizingly patient look plastered on his face. "There is nothing to defend. I''m simply stating facts, Hannah. You know very well that I¡¯ve always seen our situation as a war. The boy, Prodigy, Hardkour, whatever else he chooses to call himself, he sees this like a war game." Armsmaster paused, his expression somber. "I told you that I''ve studied him. I might have gone a bit too far in my efforts. I know his personality, his hobbies, his posting habits on online forums. I know the movies he watches, the TV shows he quotes, the games he plays¡­ At this point, I can be quite sure I know the boy better than his own father does." ¡°Colin¡ª" "Late March,¡± the Tinker continued, barreling past his subordinate¡¯s attempts to interrupt him. ¡°Specifically, March 19th, 2011. That was the last time the boy signed into any online game, games that he usually frequented. And he frequented many with varying themes; superhero, science fiction, space travel, fantasy, the list goes on." "Colin, what does all this have to do with anything?" Hannah asked, her eyes narrowed, searching for understanding. "That day or the day after was the day that the subject of our discussion likely triggered. And before you say anything, I have done my research to an invasive degree. Possibly too invasive.¡± Colin¡¯s mouth turned down in a frown, his brow furrowed as he hunched his shoulders slightly. ¡°The boy loves video games. That is the link that our Thinkers are missing when it comes to understanding him, to projecting him. The magnitude of his powers, as well as their diversity, increase after a combat situation, a common trait found in nearly any role-playing video game. His changes in costume and identity are likely not an issue of vanity as I first believed but possibly the method in which his powers work. More than likely, he has to separate his abilities into classes - another common video game conceit - in order to make the most of them." Armsmaster took a deep breath, his voice growing more impassioned. "Everything he has done since he triggered was likely in pursuit of a self-given quest to save the city, upon which he likely believes he''ll be rewarded somehow. All of his actions and thoughts are guided by the fact that his entire focus is that of a video game addict." "So, when he finds his reward upon fighting back the Nazis and everything else in his way of keeping his city safe is being acknowledged by¡­ maybe Alexandria or Eidolon, I''m not sure on the specifics quite yet¡­ and offered a lofty position in the Wards, in which he not only has recognition but a social circle with similar abilities and experiences, how could any lonely teenage boy turn that offer down?" Hannah''s expression shifted from skepticism to contemplation. "...I see." "It''s the end of his game, the reward he''s looking for. Since he''s clearly not gaining any tangible benefit from his actions," Armsmaster''s expression took a distinct turn downwards, the man''s gaze seeming to look past Miss Militia as he quickly added, "other than an increase in power, of course." "And if the boy refuses or challenges your authority, you have a member of the Triumvirate there to make him submit, anyway,¡± Militia finished for him. "I''m not disagreeing with the specifics of the plan. I¡¯m not going to insult you by claiming you haven¡¯t thought about it but¡­¡± Hannah shook her head. ¡°I just have to ask¡­" Colin waited silently for her to continue. Finally, Militia glanced up at him. "What if you''re wrong?" The Tinker opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he had to say would go unheard. Both he and Militia glanced up as the lights in the lab shifted from a solid white to flashing red, the blaring sound of sirens from powerful speakers audible throughout the entirety of the Protectorate HQ. Armsmaster''s jaw clenched again. ¡°What. Now?¡± Cutscene: Embers Hey, guys. Just like I promised, two weeks later. ? I''m working hard on all my stories and the next few chapters of Greg Vs. ? With spring semester mostly over, I''ve been kicking it into gear and I have a lot of great stuff coming. ? I want to thank my Patrons especially: MagusZanin, Jack, Segev, AnteausTheGiant, Cedron Spaulding, James Carl Henderson, Tian Seve, Ashley Stanhope, Nikhil Majumdar, Sartek, Zach Collins, Furyful Fawful, zero1995, greenfall87, ALEX, Skinnybonz, TheBlackenedWoods, SaintPriest, Andrea, Johnathan, Mark-Anthony Edwards, Shaan Vyas, Haydos, TJMTG, One Damed Soul. ? Thank you, guys. Regular updates here and on the Patreon are coming this week and regularly onwards.
? Cutscene: Embers ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C He feels it. The weakness. The cold. The darkness creeping in with each passing moment. His thoughts flit, flicker and fade as he sees lips below glowing eyes move, forming words he can''t hear anymore. He opens his mouth. H- His heart stops. And the rest of him pulses despite it. Like a single heartbeat within every cell of his body. A heartbeat that refuses to drum a second beat, but instead continues like a single note, growing stronger every second. Every inch of him screams. Not with pain, but with raw sensation. He feels it. He feels it more than anything he''s ever felt in his life. His eyes are closed but he sees. Light. Powerful, bright. Blue. Gold. Both battling each other, force against force, yet one blazes like a bonfire as its light meets his flesh and the other¡­ The other seems to struggle to latch on. In the center of his heart, he sees with those same unopened eyes, a figure staring down at him, eyes like miniature suns brighter than anything ever had the right to be. He feels the heartbeat within him thrum, thump and thunder like a drumbeat. The figure opens his mouth and a voice resounds through every inch of him. "WHO THE FUCK¡­" It rang with power, each syllable pulsing in time with his strange, new heartbeat. The words echo across the border of existence and non-existence, resounding in his bones and rattling his soul. His breath hitched, each inhalation a battle, each exhalation a victory. His heart stuttered, faltered, and then began to beat again. Slowly, unevenly, but undeniably. The light subsided, but it did not disappear. It pulsed within him, a second heartbeat, a silent promise of continued existence. His eyes wrenched shut as sensation rushed back into his previously fading form, but golden light burst from behind his eyelids even still. "TOLD YOU¡­" His mouth opened in a silent scream as his insides pulsed harder, golden light spilling forth like a beacon from inside his throat as he felt his back arch, body moving despite itself. An unseen force pulling him back from the brink, tethering him to this world, asserting an undeniable claim over his being. The golden light within him responds, thrumming in time with each syllable, each pulse acting in sync with his heart, each drumbeat a refusal to surrender. "THAT YOU COULD¡­" His back arched, skin prickling as every single pore of his body became an aperture for golden light that refused to be contained any more. His body, a beacon in the black void, a defiance against the inevitable, a monument of resilience against the unforgiving march of time. "DIE?!" The words reverberate in his mind, in his soul, challenging the very fabric of his being. Light as bright as the sun but far, far denser pulsed again but this time in reverse as it vanished, hidden beneath flesh and bone. [DESTINATION] [TRAJECTORY] [AGREEMENT] [QUERY: POTENTIAL?] [AGREEMENT] He breathes in and for the first time¡­ He exists.
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C An expanse of nothingness, a vast canvas of sand, spread out to infinity. In its midst, a solitary figure walked on. A trekker in the desert of the surreal, where sand met sky at the horizon''s edge, an edge that never draws closer, yet seems to recede with every step. A dance with the sun above, a dance of shadows and light. Larger than life, the sun. A giant, golden disk in the limitless sky. No friendly beacon, but an inferno. Unforgiving. Merciless. Its fiery tongues lapping at his mind, searing him from the inside out. The world around him shimmered and wavered in the brutal heat, a hazy mirage of existence. The heat wrapped around him, a tangible entity. Seeping through his skin, into his bones. Sweat trickled down his body, a river of desperation. Each droplet that hissed away under the unforgiving light drained at him, the clear fluid somehow his lifeblood. His footsteps echoed in the silence, a rhythm of persistence. A testament of his journey. But the sun... the sun drew nearer with each passing moment. A celestial body, defying the laws of space and time. A paradox. The sun, it insists. Tugs. Grasps. Yet, at the edge of perception, a trembling mirage. Blue. Cool. An oasis. Shimmers, spectral, amidst the ballet of sands¡ªswirling, twirling, twisting. Tranquility rendered illusory, wrapped in the soothing hues of the intangible¡ªsapphire, azure, and dreams. Verdant specters sway, calling to him. Their dance¡ªshadows, whispers on the face of the water¡ªpromises. Promises of relief, sun-drenched lies forever out of reach. He reaches, lunges, plunges. Toward it? Through it? Stubborn, persistent in its elusive dance on the horizon. A step. A falter. A slide. Further. The dance¡ªan eternal dance between hope and despair, sun and illusion. Drawing near, drawing away. Reality blurred at the edges, a painting smeared by an unseen hand. His body slick with scarlet sweat, flesh glistening under the relentless sun. His strength waned and the desert floor embraced him, hot and unyielding. His sweat-soaked body imprinted upon the grains of sand, a testament to his journey. A voice rang in the silence. It echoed from the heavens, a deep, resonant sound, words that made no sense, a tongue forged in the heart of a star. Again. A voice. A din as infinite as the desert that echoed through the silence. Words strung together, their meanings lost in the roar of a million furnaces. His mind grasped at them, a futile attempt to comprehend. The sun was closer now. A face within the golden inferno. A face that was no face. A riddle wrapped in a mystery. Axel squinted, his eyes stinging from the brilliance. The sun, larger than ever, filled the sky and his vision. A burning paradox, threatening to consume him. Yet, he did not burn. Words. Words that were not words. A communication of sorts, a conversation with a celestial entity. The sun spoke, its voice a symphony of heat and light. A language born from the heart of a star. The sun spoke again. A single phrase that echoed in the vast emptiness. A command, a plea, an inevitability. DON''T DIE. DON''T DIE. DON''T DIE. PLE- I''LL DO ANYTHING. COME BACK TO ME. DON''T DIE. I''M SORRY. I''M SO SORRY. DON''T DIE. PLEASE. With those words, the world shifted. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The desert, the sun, the voice, all fading into the background. The echo of the sun''s words lingered, a faint whisper in the recesses of his mind. He looked up again and the sun was upon him, close, so close. A face, a vague impression of a face, on the sun. It filled his vision, a blinding panorama of golden light. The sun, it spoke, its voice a symphony of celestial melodies. The words, unintelligible. The roar, a million furnaces. They washed over him, through him, the intensity of the star''s language scorching his very soul. The sun, now a lover''s distance away, leaned in. A celestial kiss, an intimate moment between star and man. From slow burn, now a raging fire. It consumed him, devoured him. His silent screams echoed in the vast desert, his body writhing in the sand, a silent plea to the indifferent expanse. And then, the sun''s voice again, a whisper amidst the chaos. A command, a plea, an existential truth. WAKE UP. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
With a suddenness that he knew was not normal, Axel Ramon felt himself wake. His brain didn''t trudge forward slowly, the fog of unconscious dreams gradually fading away to the normal morning rising one would expect. Instead, the alertness was jarring, abrupt, immediate, all-encompassing. The teenager took in a sudden harsh breath as awareness flooded his mind. The air left his lungs in a quick gasp as he found himself acutely aware of himself, his location, the dimensions of the space around him and far, far too much from the very instant he was thrust into consciousness. This isn''t¡­ m-my room? The excess of details that surged into his sightless mind all at once told him it wasn''t. Where¡­ He breathed in again, unsure of himself even as he refused to open his eyes to be sure. Where am I? There was no answer, because why would there be? Am I dreaming? The question popped into his head even as he dismissed it; the sudden hyper-reality too detailed for a dream. Awareness seeped into him like ink spreading on blotting paper. He could sense everything, his mind and body inexplicably alert, his perceptions keen and razor-sharp. No, this can''t be a dream. His forehead crinkled in confusion, eyes firmly shut against the torrent of sensory information. Even still, his mind spun like a top, trying to grapple with foreign sensations that stood just an arm''s reach past the realm of understanding. From the soft morning breeze that whispered past the open window ¡ª the fresh scent of dew-covered grass carried by the wind right to his nose ¡ª to the feeling of cloth and fabric against his skin ¡ª a symphony of cotton blends, all of it, right down to the socks ¡ª and even the faint hum of electrical current coursing through the wires in the walls. Suddenly, a wave of disorientation washed over him, a sensory overload swarming his senses that made his head spin. He could feel everything. For a moment, he thought he would be sick. The world spun around him, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds and smells. His heart hammered in his chest, matching the frantic pace of his thoughts. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the disorientation passed. Sparky took a deep breath, steadying himself as he lay still. He was still here, still¡­ Sparky''s heart continued to pound in his chest, each beat resonating with a strange energy that pulsed through his veins. What is happening to me? Swamped by the deluge of perceptions and thoughts, Axel shifted haphazardly in bed, teetering on the brink of sensory overload, his expression one more of exasperation and discomfort than any real pain. For a too-long moment, he found himself wondering a single question: Is this what death feels like? The thought hung above his head like a sword on a frayed string as he tried to come to terms with the possibility. I have to be dead, right, he attempted to convince himself again, as if trying to push past the denial of his own mortality. I¡­ I got shot. Twice? The thought shifted into a question, before he answered that same question himself not even a full moment later. Twice. And this is probably some last-minute hallucination my mind''s trying to give me right before my brain stops working. But¡­ He froze, body stilling atop the bed as he wondered how this could be a hallucination if he''s able to think and feel and t- His mind grappled with the intrusive sensations as he finally forced his eyes open. Oh God¡­ All of a sudden, the world came rushing back, an assault of amplified details blasting his senses with all the subtlety of a lion''s roar. He let out a low groan, wincing as his eyes were assaulted by the details of the ceiling above, the speckled texture paint of the popcorn paint easily noticeable, the faint, complex patterns of whorls and knots on the wooden closet doors, the muted glow of morning sunlight casting a kaleidoscope of shadows. The air held more than just the scent of dew-kissed grass. It was a cocktail of aromas ¡ª fragments of last night''s dinner lingering in the air, the familiar musk of his room, the faint smell of old books from the shelf, the subtlest hint of fresh paint from a freshly retouched surface. It was overpowering, intoxicating, overwhelming. Too much. His skin prickled with awareness, the mere touch of his bedsheets sending ripples of sensory feedback. The fabric''s weave was suddenly complex, individual threads distinguishable under his fingertips. Even the air felt denser against his skin, like an invisible, silken blanket pressing against him. This is too much. He tried to sit up, to ground himself, but the effort sent tremors of strength through his limbs. As if every single muscle fiber was individually aware, singing in harmony with the flow of his blood, each cell alive and responsive. Even his confused flailing felt different, individual movements somehow flowing and practiced, a fluid dance of muscle and bone. The background hum of electricity in the walls was no longer just a hum. It was a symphony of currents, a fluctuating melody of energy. He could hear the gentle tick of a timepiece from somewhere, the sporadic chirping of birds outside, the distant rumble of a car engine, the muted conversation of a radio host outside even as it became more and more distant. He could even hear his own heartbeat, the rhythmic thump echoing in his ears. His stomach churned, a sense of nausea swirling within him. His body ¡ª suddenly a stranger''s: foreign and unfamiliar¡­ yet intimately his own. Every breath he took was a discovery, a flood of amplified experiences that left him gasping but never breathless. What the hell is going on? He thought again, fear creeping into his thoughts. The panic that had subsided began to rise again, a tide threatening to drown him as he teetered on the edge of the tightrope that was his sanity. And then, as sudden as it came, a moment of stillness. It was as if his senses, his thoughts, his fears, everything paused for a breath. The world around him was still a riot of sensory information, but it was no longer a chaotic, crushing wave. It was a river, a rush of experiences that he was part of. He could feel everything. He could hear everything. He could see everything. He could t- A harsh cough ruptured the silence, thick phlegm wrenched from his throat with a guttural rasp. The teenager outright wretched in disgust as an overwhelming rush of taste exploded in his mind like a dormant landmine. Taste. His tongue felt like sandpaper, a gritty desert, coated in dust and dried blood from hours past. The teenager jolted upright in bed, hands flying to his mouth, fingers scraping urgently at his tongue. Barely a moment passed before Sparky found himself frozen once again, those same eyes widening as they locked onto a mirror directly across from him. He stared back as he was met with the reflection of irises ablaze with a gold as molten as a supernova. Stunning eyes set in a seemingly untouched face, every single one of his features pristine, flawless and¡­ Perfect. His hands fell away from his now-forgotten tongue as a mouth filled with impeccably placed and immaculately white teeth silently formed both syllables of the word before it slowly returned to a single flat line that he recognized as his face''s natural expression. Am I... me? The thought, insane as it was, felt like it needed to be answered. Sparky swung his legs over the side of his bed, nearly pausing as he took in how fluid the action seemed. There was a distinctly uncanny grace to his actions, each motion a seamless transition from the last as his body responded to his commands with a fluidity he had never known, each muscle and tendon working in perfect harmony. His bare feet brushed against the carpet, and he felt every thread, every fiber. The sensation was so intense, so vivid, that for a moment, he thought he could count each individual strand beneath his soles. The unsteadiness Sparky would have expected after that sudden bout of nausea was seemingly nonexistent as he moved towards the mirror, feet gliding across the floor with a dancer''s effortless grace. His reflection stared back, a figure so similar and yet so foreign. His posture was straighter, his body more defined, his gaze sharper. He looked... stronger, not in the obvious way of bulging muscles, but in a more subtle, understated way, lithe and powerful compared to his former lean scrawniness. But his face¡­ Is this me? Perfect was the closest thing he could think of to describe it ¡ª him, his face ¡ªthe same sort of look you''d see on a magazine, or a movie star on the screen. His skin looked as though it had been filtered and airbrushed to the point of actual beauty, skin glowing and radiant. His long hair, usually something he''d have to comb and manage from a tangled mess, hovered just above his shoulders with a level of life and bounce that didn''t seem real outside of a shampoo commercial. He glanced down at his hands, unsurprised at what met his gaze. His palms, once rough with callouses, were now as soft and smooth as an infant''s, and his previously gnawed-on fingernails were now neat and polished to a degree that looked almost reflective. I feel good. No, not good. He blinked at his expression again. Great! No¡­ He bent and curled his fingers into solid fists, every muscle in his arms coiling with an almost predatory grace. He stared down at his hands again, relaxing his fists just to flex his fingers and watch silently as the sinewy muscles beneath his skin responded instantly. They were the same hands, but also, they were not. I feel¡­ right. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his mouth despite his confusion, immaculate teeth in perfect rows gleaming back at him. His skin hummed with an undercurrent of energy, a sensation almost like the shock of caffeine, yet somehow purer. Adrenaline, his mind supplied, his newfound hyperawareness unfamiliar but not unwelcome, especially so soon after waking. Fast. Immediate, even. Far quicker than he was used to, at least. His mind raced, neurons firing and thoughts whirling as he tried to comprehend his situation. His body felt different, stronger, more agile. He could sense his surroundings with an acuity that was almost frightening. The thought lingered, taking up the entirety of his mind as he tried to process what was going on with him until something else seized his attention. "You''re not dead, by the way." A voice, laced with an uncanny mixture of relief and trepidation, pierced the silence. Sparky spun around, tension rising and bleeding from his body in a single instant. to see a familiar face sitting by the door, a blond figure perfectly still and unnoticeable as he remained in place in his computer chair. "I figured you''d be worried about that," he continued on. "Considering¡­ y''know, two gunshots and all." There, by the doorway, sat a blond figure, a familiar face that he didn''t realize how badly he needed to see. A blond figure, statue-still in a computer chair, melding seamlessly with the background, unnoticed till now as if he had always been there. Sparky''s awareness flared again, the realization that had escaped him for the last fifteen seconds of consciousness ringing in his mind like a morning alarm as he suddenly took in all the familiar gaming and superhero merch that surrounded him with new eyes. I''m in Greg''s room. "Hey, Axel," Greg ventured, his voice soft yet somehow reverberating in the silent room. "Don''t call me that." The words escaped Sparky''s mouth reflexively, his tone sharp, eyes instinctively narrowing into a glare before he caught himself, blinking away the sudden and unexpected animosity. He doesn''t speak at first. At least, not immediately after. Instead, Sparky simply stared at his friend and Greg was kind enough to return the favor by not disrupting the quiet and staring right back. The silence had a purpose, at least for Sparky. He needed a moment or three to simply see, to take everything in and study his friend with these new eyes of his. So much new detail he was sure he would have missed before, how little he used to see. Sparky''s memory of Greg was a somewhat blurry adolescent image. A boy with a cluttered face, speckled with the ordinary smatterings of acne, the persisting baby fat giving him a round, youthful charm not quite appropriate of a boy nearing his sixteenth year of life. His hair tried to be neat but never quite reached the level of control his mother would have liked, not without copious amounts of gel that neither of them bothered to consider as an option. After he had returned to school, Greg was almost a different person entirely. The "almost" was rather kind, but it was still true. Sure, Greg had returned taller, leaner, an airbrushed version of his old self with a mane of hair that was rather wild and untamed and yet somehow looked like it was meant to be that way. Blue eyes that were once both nervous and jovial had changed to something slightly darker ¡ª not quite malicious ¡ª and at the same time playful, like he was listening to a joke that only he could hear. A similar smile tugged at his lips constantly, mocking and aware of it. All of it ¡ª all of that ¡ª was true, but there was still undeniably a core of Greg at the center of it all, despite how much Sparky had railed against those former changes, and even now, that was clearer than ever. To Sparky''s newly altered eyes, Greg seemed almost otherworldly. His smooth, unblemished skin was so perfect it looked almost unreal, making him more of an ethereal fae-creature than a handsome boy. Yet, he was both, in an unsettling, undeniable manner. His eyes sparkled with an intense brightness, meeting Sparky''s stare with an unwavering blue flame that seemed to burn bright even in the light of day. His irises were not quite circular either, the things looking almost ragged, not quite the usual round of a normal human but seemed to be on the verge of narrowing at points, teetering on the edge of shifting into something alien. Wow. Something else was different now too, not just physically or appearance-wise. It was something more¡­ Silently, Sparky studied Greg again, noting the tension in his friend''s shoulders, the forced grin that hung on his face, even as his voice was laced with a playful jest. Behind the fake good humor, there was a noticeable uncertainty, a distinct nervousness. His friend was unsure. Worried, even. After several long moments of thought, Sparky finally built up the courage to ask the question burning at his thoughts. Staring right into those jewel-bright, royal blue eyes, the teenager sighs before he finally speaks, his own voice melodic and unfamiliar to him for a moment. "Wh-what h-happened?" Greg''s response came with a radiant smile, "You have no idea how happy I am right now." It doesn''t go unnoticed that his question went unanswered. "Why?" "You almost died, Ax. In fact, I''m pretty sure you did. I¡­" Greg''s voice trailed off, a flicker of some haunting emotion passing over his face so quickly that Sparky wasn''t sure if it had been there at all an instant later. "I didn''t even think it would work. It was a fuckin'' Hail Mary, dude." Hail Mary. Sparky took a tentative step forward, hesitant as he reacquainted himself with his voice. "Wait, what¡­ what happened?" "You don''t remember." A statement, not a question. Greg''s face lost its smile for another instant, looking all too grim and scaring Sparky into another step back even after it vanished. "...No?" Something¡­ something tickled Sparky''s thoughts: a faint non-memory ¡ª like a distant dream at the edge of his consciousness demanding to be acknowledged, but elusive, already miles out of reach the moment you woke up. "Probably for the best, really," Greg frowned at the last syllable, the expression actually visible on his face and remained there without flickering away, his voice laced with a seriousness that momentarily disrupted his usual playful demeanor. For a second or so, Sparky wondered how much of that was genuine and how much was for his benefit until Greg spoke again. "You sounded like you were in a lot of pain." "A lot of¡­ What did you do to me?" Sparky questioned, voice firm despite his growing unease at the fact Greg had yet to answer his actual question. He moved forward, steps surprisingly graceful and effortless. But as he advanced, his eyes dropped to his own body, distracted by the smoothness of his movements again, and he paused as another more pressing realization pushed all others aside. "Wha- did you undress me? Change my clothes?" Another realization hit him. The grime, sweat, and blood that had stained his skin the previous night were gone. His skin felt clean, fresh. "Did you... bathe me?" "Waitwaitwait. No¡­" Greg held up a finger, the action accompanied by a slightly nervous laugh. "Well, yes, yes and no." "What?" "Well, after I got you off that rooftop, I needed somewhere to take you but the hospital would ask too many questions because¡­ well," Greg shrugged. "You were literally in perfect health, from what I could tell. Just really, really deep asleep. So, I brought you to my place. But you were dirty as hell so I hosed you down. " Greg shrugged again, offering Sparky a sheepish smile. "Literally." "What?" The blond nodded. "Yeah, you were deep asleep but not in a coma. I checked." Not in a c- Coma. The word echoed in Sparky''s mind, a chilling reminder of the severity of the situation. But he brushed it aside, doing his best to focus his attention firmly on the more pressing issue. "...That''s not the important part," Sparky bit the words out, partly to Greg but also to his own errant thoughts. Wait, isn''t a coma kinda imp- "Not. The. Important. Part," he repeated the reminder through gritted teeth. Holding back the urge to say something rude was a challenge but Sparky somehow managed it, instead letting out a long breath. "So¡­ what exactly did you do to me?" "Oh¡­ that." The explanation that left Greg''s mouth was more confusing than it was enlightening, something Sparky couldn''t help but frown at. Granted, he was grateful that Greg had saved his life but he would have liked some real answers on what exactly the fuck had been done to him. Apparently, from what the blond managed to lay out after a five-minute story, the whole thing had involved a lot of sound effects, hand gestures and words like "glowing", "pushing energy into you" and finally ending with "then something clicked and your body just started healing itself right up". All in all, Axel Ramon was neither enlightened nor amused. "Long story short," the blond finished up. "I''m pretty sure I¡­ kinda Reinforced your body¡­ permanently. Or soul, or ability to exist or whatever. For all I know, I realigned your chakras. I definitely reinforced something ''cus, well, I mean it''s kinda obvious, right?" Greg pulled a face and offered Sparky a shrug, gesturing to all of him in a manner that distinctly felt both familiar and insulting. "I''m not really sure how but I think I made you Trigger or something, not gonna lie. This is the first time I ever tried to do this on purpose." "Uh-huh." Axel mumbled, as if he understood. Far from it, really. It made him want to cry. "I''m thinking of calling it something else actually. Triggering doesn''t sound right to me, gotta be honest," Greg shook his head thoughtfully, cupping his chin as he paused the movement. "Maybe¡­ Ascension. No, no, no¡­ Awakening?" Sparky frowned. "Greg. Me. My Body. Answers," he demanded softly. "Oh, sorry, yeah," the other boy changed gears with a nod. "It was sick as fuck to see from the outside. I mean, I heal and glow all the time but I''ve never really glowed-it-up in the mirror or seen anyone else heal like me. I mean, there was Emma but¡­" The long-haired boy froze, an incredulous expression on his face. "What?" Greg blinked back. "What?" Sparky took in a deep breath, chest shuddering before he asked again. "What do you mean, heal like you? You mean¡­ you gave me your powers?" His question hung heavy in the air, his incredulity unmistakable. As if unaware or ignoring the wariness on his friend''s face, the blond rose to his feet, a smile on his lips and a snort leaving his mouth as he responded blithely, "I sure hope not. I kinda like being a special snowflake in this city. More likely your powers are just similar to mine, for some reason. Probably because you got them while I was doing¡­ well, whatever we end up calling it, to save your life. I mean, can you imagine if I ended up giving you all my powers? You''d have to take over as Prodigy and Hardkour and run the gang to keep the city from imploding with turf-wars. That would kinda suck. Also, let''s be real, everybody hates legacy capes too ¡ª never as good as the originals." Thisisntamotherfuckingjoke! The scream remained internal, just the way Sparky liked it, and he simply stared at his friend and nodded, a similar smile on his face as his gratitude wrestled with a tag team duo of shock and worry. "Hehe¡­ yeah." Trying to ignore the fact that Greg had done something to him, changed him, only brought those changes to his attention ¡ª smell, sight, hearing, touch. Hell, even taste. He could make out the dust in the air on his tongue, smell the accumulated leaves in the rain gutters outside, the soap from the laundry detergent on the bed sheets, the stale aroma of last night''s Chinese food from downstairs. Even the individual, nigh-invisible strands of a spider-web at the very corner of Greg''s ceiling was noticeable to his new superhuman eyes. He closed his eyes, inhaling a slow, steady breath. Despite the flood of new sensory information, he maintained his breathing rhythm ¡ª in and out. He knew if he allowed himself to pause, he would let out a scream. He already felt a strong urge to lash out, to vent his frustration and confusion. Whatever Greg did to him ¡ª even if he doesn''t know exactly what ¡ª he''s not human anymore. Finally, the teenager opens his mouth again, plastering a smile on his face that isn''t entirely faked. "Makes sense, at least," Sparky began with a laugh. "I''m alive, right?" "You know I honestly thought you''d be freaking the fuck out," Greg spoke up again, a slight but noticeable confusion coloring his words. "You''re more freaked out about the part where I changed your clothes than¡­ y''know, making you a cape." Now it was Sparky''s turn to hold up a finger, the long-haired boy pointing a single digit at his friend. "We''re gonna get back to that later but¡­ you''re right. I really think I should be. It''s insane but, for some reason¡­ for some reason¡­" Sparky worked his digits, forming his fingers into tight fists before opening them once more, "this just feels right." He could feel every inch of himself as he flexed his hands again, feeling the pulsing energy travel down his arms, coursing through his veins like liquid lightning. An ever-present thrum of energy just beneath his skin. "Uh-huh," Greg parroted back. "Is this how you feel all the time?" The question was genuine, the last few syllables coming out like a whisper as he felt the coiled energy in his veins, heart pounding louder than he''d ever noticed before in his ears. A part of him recoiled at the idea, a quiet voice screaming in him that this wasn''t right. But the larger part of him, the part that was experiencing it, was reveling in it, embracing the change. "Like the most natural thing ever." "I¡­ maybe?" Greg screwed up his face in a thoughtful expression, head tilting to the side in an authentic way that helped to reinforce Sparky''s belief that his friend was still the same beneath everything else. After a second, he raised his head and focused those suddenly-bright glowing eyes back onto Sparky''s, mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown as the glow faded. "What do you feel?" The teenager took a breath, the natural action sending a thrum of energy through him. The feeling pounded in tune with his heartbeat, power surging in his body in tune with his blood as his spine tingled with potential and the hair on his arms stood at attention. Sparky flexed his muscles and glanced down at his clenched forearms, half-expecting golden light to be visible just beneath his veins. There was nothing to be seen, but he still felt it all the same. "I feel good." Sparky grinned. All hesitation vanished in an instant from Greg''s face as the blond grinned back. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "Can you do me a favor?" "What?" "Say ''Menu''." Sparky blinked, slowly realizing what the other teenager meant. With a slight hesitancy in his voice, he repeated the word. "M¡­ Menu." Nothing. He said as much to Greg, his friend''s face falling slightly. "Okay¡­ try ''Status''." "Nope." "Skills." "Nuh-uh." "Inventory?" "Nada." "...Well, guess you can''t have everything. Anyway, welcome to the party¡­ Player Two." "Fuck you, no." Lag 6.16 Lag 6.16 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As the door swung open, Sparky stepped into the stairwell, only to blink and stumble over for a moment. He gasped, head facing the floor, as white filled his vision and the world in front of him swayed, drooping and distorting like a surrealist painting brought to life. A second later, it shifted again, suddenly snapping back to something approaching normal. He blinked again, the boy taking a moment to catch his breath, when a sound caught his attention. He raised his head and his eyes widened again. At the top of the landing stood an Empire member with his back to him, unaware of anything going on as he drunkenly and tunelessly hummed some insipid tune. Time seemed to slow as Sparky watched, the details of the scene soaking into his mind with the sharpness of a high-definition photograph. The man''s tattoos visible on his bare back, his close-cropped dyed blond hair, pants halfway around his ankles, the unchecked yellow stream pouring from between his legs ¨C all of it came into sharp focus, even as the edges of his perception seemed oddly fluid. Deja Vu. "Fuck¡­." Sparky winced, a hand rising to his temple as a spike of pain ran through his skull. The tattooed gangster spun around at the whispered sound, pants unbuckled and urine dripping still, his stupefied expression swimming across his face, refusing to solidify as if seen through a warping, liquid lens. The world turned to ice for a moment when their eyes met, fear spiking through Sparky''s thoughts as realization seeped into the tattooed man''s alcohol-fogged brain as slowly as honey. "Fuck." Driven by pure instinct, the teenager charged forward. Before the gangster could even do so much as pick up his pants, Sparky''s shoulder collided into his bare chest with as much force as he could manage and the unprepared man flew. Back and downward. The boy blinked as the man came to a stop unceremoniously at the next landing, eyes blank and head at an angle that he doubted would ever straighten again. He forced himself to ignore the part of him that was laughing maniacally at the sight, already in motion and not willing to spare the corpse another thought. His legs carried up the dingy, dimly-lit stairwell, mind focused on reaching the door to the roof. His hands closed around the doorknob as he pushed it open a¡ª As the door swung open, Sparky stepped into the stairwell, only to blink and stumble over for a moment. He gaspe¡ª His mouth snapped shut silently as his eyes landed on something familiar. The Empire member was back, different yet eerily similar, stuck in the same humiliating act. Deja vu. "Wai-" This time it was a broad-shouldered brute, a black shirt concealing his back but his tattoos spilled out and over his arms, a canvas of intricate ink swirls showing off gang hierarchy and blood bonds. Sparky watched him, something within him reacting to the familiar scenario. A clear decision formed in his mind, a strategy, simple but solid. Instead of charging blindly, he collected himself and timed his movements. He rushed, his shoe connecting with the man''s exposed back, sending him off-balance and down the staircase in a series of heavy, disjointed thuds. The sound bounced off the walls of the stairwell, a gruesome symphony accompanying Sparky''s footsteps as he ascended the stairs without a single look back. His movements were more manic and desperate this time, fingers closing around the door to push it open as the world seemed to shudder and shift an¡ª Time folded in on itself. His surroundings seemed to ripple and distort as he blinked an¡ª Deja vu. An Empire member stood at the landing, yet another, with a shaved head marked by vibrant tattoos. Sparky didn''t bother to hesitate, not even blinking as he rushed forward. He chose a punch this time, a forceful right hook that caught the man off-guard. The surprise in his eyes was almost comical before he collapsed, tumbling down the stairs in the same familiar, grotesque, way the others had. The stairs. He ran. The doorknob. The d¨¦j¨¤ vu persisted, sending a shudder through Sparky as he watched the world change. He blinked as he re-entered the same stairwell, badly-lit and just as poorly constructed, another gangster pissing freely as he sang like no one was watching. This one was fat¡ªround even¡ªmiddle-aged and balding, with the center of his scalp glistening even in the dim, flickering light. His neck was decorated with tattoos that coiled around the back of his throat, a collar of thorny swastikas with other symbols of his gang life surrounding it. Sparky didn''t care. He sprang forward, the familiar feeling of adrenaline rushing through him for the nth time his fuel, as he lunged his fist into the back of the man''s neck with force and speed. The fat man choked in surprise and pain, body pitching forward and arms swinging wildly as he tried to right himself. He failed. He tumbled. The rhythmic thuds of his fall echoed off the enclosed stairwell, shifting to silence in no time at all. Again, Sparky made his way upward. Again, the world reset. Each time, a new Empire member. A new face he couldn''t quite make out. A different body, with different clothes marked with different ink, but always in the same stupid situation. Young or old, skinny to buff, they all fell the same way. Every single one of them drunk and collapsed under a single hit, repeating the same stupid moment. He wasn''t sure how many of them had fallen. He couldn''t keep count. He never kept count. His fingers closed around the doorknob every time and every time¡ª The Empire member was a tall man this time, a head of thick dyed blond hair atop his head and a well-built body noticeable beneath his clothing. He stood at the landing, leather jacket covering his back, once again caught in the same act of urination, whistling and oblivious. Sparky stepped forward. The man froze, his whistling ceasing immediately as the urination cut off at the same time. The teenager halted, mouth open in a silent "what?" The gangster spun, a pistol in hand. The sight of the gun jarred the rhythm the boy had set, but the sight of the man''s face ¡ª clear and distinct ¡ª shook him more than anything else, confusion and shock warring with the rest of him. "Thought I was gone, kid?" His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes widened, but he was already in motion. Time seemed to warp as he ran towards the gun, and reality seemed like a picture frozen in place. The grinning face of the older Duncan shifted to shock as he ran toward him, the cold glint of the gun, the droplets of urine suspended in mid-air¡­ He took in everything and he lunged. Hands stretched out, reaching for the weapon, hoping to tear it away. Reality held its breath. A bone-rattling roar filled the enclosed stairwell, the echo bouncing off the walls in a deafening cacophony. The handgun jerked in Sparky''s grip, its recoil sending him sprawling backwards, head connecting with the cold, hard floor. The taste of iron coated his tongue as blood trickled down his face, vision clouded and the world spinning. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The last glow of a setting sun pierced through the narrow gap in Sparky''s blackout curtains, casting a single dim stripe of fading twilight across the chaos of his room. Stirred awake from the grip of uneasy dreams, Sparky''s bright golden eyes snapped open as he stared up at his ceiling with a piercing gaze and a tightly-clenched jaw. The teenager blinked once, acutely and unmistakably aware of just how alert he was in a single instant, the moment after waking up. Never gonna get used to that, am I? he thinks to himself, a frown creasing his brow. His words echoed strangely in his head, and he did his best to ignore what he really thought about that. There was a sense of disillusionment poking at him whenever he dared to even contemplate that idea, that this new feeling, all of these new feelings would never stop being new and weird. The thought felt far less like truth and more like the worst sort of lie ¨C a comfort blanket he chose to wrap around himself rather than confront the unsettling reality that he likely would get used to all of this sooner or later. Hopefully later. Pushing the thought away, Sparky pulled himself up, pillows bunched up at the base of his spine as he rested against his headboard. Almost against his will, his sharp gaze¡ªtoo sharptoocleartoobright¡ªslid from corner to corner of the four walls around him, taking in the room that he had properly made his own in the last few years. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. As Sparky scanned his surroundings, his mind grappled with the aftershocks of the dream. The beginning, at least. The face of the man he had killed ¨C a face he couldn''t recall, and more disturbingly, found that he didn''t particularly care whether or not he did. He wasn''t sure what that meant and found himself just as uninterested in the answer as he was the face. The ending; that was different. That was scary. Frightening, even. That man¡­ Sparky may have mouthed off to him several times, but those were for a purpose. Hell, the last time he didn''t think it mattered because he was already dying by then. He still didn''t know what happened to him, after the bullets hit his body. All Sparky remembered was blinking from the shock and then¡­ The older Duncan was gone. Greg had been cagey about what happened to him, becoming more and more evasive, and outright changing subjects the longer he kept asking about the man. Even though Greg''s smile didn''t leave his face, for the most part, Sparky had decided to let things slide when he noticed his friend''s eyes beginning to go from rounded to¡­ Well, to something else. A question for tomorrow, I guess. As that thought passed through his mind, Sparky let out a slight groan, just now remembering about tomorrow. He almost forgot that he had to meet Greg again tomorrow. For what, he wasn''t sure, but the other boy said it was important. "Important, my ass," Sparky grumbled to himself as shook his head slowly. He probably just wants to do the same thing I did to him when I found out he got powers. He groaned again, dragging his palm down his face as he did so. I''d be a lot more okay with that if I wasn''t dealing with this bullshit right now. Sparky let out a sigh and shut his eyes tight, doing his very best to avoid thinking and push down the mild nausea that seemed to pop its annoying head up every now and again. Since this morning, his senses were perpetually on edge, constantly and relentlessly alerting him to any new stimuli, a constant buzz of observations. He was blind and now he could see. Oh God, he wished he was still blind. The bullshit in question was the irritating distraction he had to deal with every time his senses picked up on anything new or unfamiliar, his brain automatically forcing him to be aware of it. Whatever those things happened to be would buzz in his awareness like particularly persistent mosquitos, lasting until he finally got used to it and he could let it sink to the back of his mind like everything else. At least, until something else popped up. And something always did. Letting out a groan of pure frustration, Sparky flicked his eyes open, the dimly-lit room clear as daylight. Even with the barest of natural light, his vision was razor sharp, cutting through the gloom with unnatural acuity. His room stood out to him as frighteningly unfamiliar the longer he looked, each corner full of unexplored details his mind would simply pass over normally. Misplaced socks hiding beneath the bed, the scent of candy bars in an old shoebox, and worn-out comic books strewn under his desk, all things he''d somehow missed before. He allowed his gaze to wander to the pile of dirty laundry in the corner, his own musk wafting back at him, the scent feeling like a punch in the face. Even from here, he could still make out the faded smell of his mom''s favorite organic detergent layered under the stench of his sweaty feet. A gentle breeze from the outside tugged at his blackout curtains, sending a slight shudder across his sensitive skin and momentarily disturbing the posters adorning his walls. He looked at the walls of his room in turn, each telling a story of an obsession, a phase, a fleeting interest. Every band he had ever worshiped, every model he had ever fantasized about, every extreme skateboarder he had ever dreamed about being, was there staring back at him. He glanced at his old Rockhenge poster, the vibrant colors of his favorite childhood rock band neon in their intensity under his gaze. The lead guitarist, Lance "Lightning" Laramie, mid-solo, his fingers a blur on the strings. The detail was uncanny, his enhanced vision picking up fine print at the corner that he''d never even noticed from close up. Next to that was the pinup poster of Aria Washington, a model who caught his eye immediately with her dark skin and noticeable abs. She was draped over a sleek, silver Astoria V8 in nothing but a black bikini, the gloss of the car''s paintwork reflected in her aviator sunglasses. Even from across the room, he could pinpoint the minute creases on the poster, each fold and tiny tear revealing years of possession. Right up against them was a large landscape poster of Zephyr Zenn, the world-class skateboarder immortalized in the middle of a gravity-defying Christ Air, board in hand with his arms stretched out at his sides and body perfectly parallel to the ground. From somewhere outside the walls of his room, the familiar chords of ''Eclipse Heartbeat'' by Stardust Fall strummed in the background. The radio from the kitchen, probably left on by his dad, delivered the familiar song right to his ears as if he wasn''t several rooms away and a floor up. The singer''s voice was perfectly familiar, the lyrics coming to his lips with a slight smile as he mouthed along to the song his parents seemed to love more than anything else. Surrounded by all these details and sensations, the small white-capped container perched on his dresser existed like a gray spot of color. He hardly glanced at it, the bottle of Zenelix entirely unnoticeable surrounded by the skateboarding trophies, concert ticket stubs and dirty socks. Instead, Sparky swung his feet out of bed and padded across the room, bare feet cool against the wooden floor. Reaching the window, he opened the curtains slightly wider, pausing as his brain took in everything about the neighborhood from this particular angle. After a long moment of quiet processing, the teenager shut the window and locked it, before unceremoniously pulling the blackout curtains tightly together to block the fading bits of daylight. Only a sliver of light from the hallway peeking under his closed door dared to intrude in his room and yet, it was enough for his eyes to paint the room perfectly for him, each shape and object carved out in the twilight haze even if he couldn''t quite see. His other senses, undeterred by the lack of light, continued to pick up and process information with just as much detail as before, if not more. God, I wish Greg was here right now. I need someone to talk to. He plopped himself back down on his bed, chin resting on his palms as his knees kept his elbows elevated. All he could think about was earlier today, the events of seven hours ago unfolding in his mind. Honestly, they hadn''t done much talking after their main conversation. Sparky had voiced the urge to go home for a bit and Greg seemed to think that was for the best. The blond then made him breakfast, his mom having left for work apparently; something Greg didn''t seem all that happy with the way his smile had faltered when he mentioned it. Deciding to not poke the bear, Sparky chose not to ask about what that was about¡­ for now. Not long after, Greg had walked him home, a sense of quiet understanding marking their unusual companionship. They didn''t need to say much and Sparky honestly appreciated that silence, knowing very well how hard that was for his friend. His uncharacteristic thoughtfulness hadn''t stopped there as Greg had graciously prepped a pair of sunglasses and headphones for Sparky to wear outside, to help him drown out everything that seemed to demand the attention of his newly superhuman senses. Coupled with a new set of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie to hide his transformed face from the prying eyes of their mundane suburban neighborhood. Still, though, it wasn''t until Greg handed him a backpack¡ª his backpack¡ª with his skateboard poking out of it, his phone inside and everything else Sparky had assumed lost, that Sparky began to feel a good bit more like himself, as ridiculous as that sounded. Although, how Greg got those things back raised more questions than he was willing to get into. Their path to his house was confusing, at first, unfamiliar, and not just because of his newly enhanced senses. Instead of using the familiar main roads and sidewalks, Greg steered them down empty backstreets, through thickly wooded paths, and across narrow alleys. It wasn''t long before Sparky pieced together the method behind Greg''s madness, at least in this case. His friend quickly began speeding up their pace, Sparky keeping pace without giving it much thought. In moments, their casual strides changed to a power walk, shifted to a brisk jog and, not too long after, transformed into an outright sprint that seemed to extend endlessly, challenging the limits of human stamina. Sparky wasn''t sure how fast they were moving, but he was very well aware they were moving faster than he''d ever felt himself move, the world seemingly blurring at the edge of his vision. He would have thought more about just how fast they were moving, perhaps even questioned if it exceeded the world record, if not for the sudden realization that he was standing at his front door, his hand already turning the doorknob. The muffled sounds of his parents cooking and laughing in the kitchen greeted him as he stepped inside, leaving Greg behind with a hasty wave. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad," he greeted, quickening his pace towards the staircase. He held his breath, hoping they wouldn''t question his early return or his anxious rush to his room. "Sparky!" His father''s resonant voice met him halfway up the stairs, halting his progress abruptly. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing the rhythm of his name. "Axel, sweetie, you''re home early!" his mother''s voice chimed in, her cheerful tone belying the hint of suspicion in her words. Suppressing a groan, Sparky rested his forehead against the stairs. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the impending lies. "Yeah, Mom," he began, straining to keep his voice steady. "I forgot I had a small project due on Monday, and I needed to get some work done on it." "Oh." Sparky didn''t know if it was his new senses or just his familiarity with his mother''s voice, but that one syllable contained volumes. It was enough to know exactly what his mother was thinking. Sparky grimaced, a momentary pang of guilt striking him. With that, he sprinted up the stairs, quickly shutting himself in his room. The residual adrenaline from his run with Greg had worn off, leaving him with the stark reality of his transformation. In no time at all, he sank into his bed, desperate to sleep off everything he had just been through. Sleep hadn''t helped. Not one bit. With a slow, deliberate motion, Sparky lifted his gaze from the wooden floor of his room, his eyes reluctantly finding their way to the mirror opposite his bed. For the second time that day, his reflection stared back at him, unchanged from the morning. Not even a single shower in over a day¡ªand the hosing down Greg had remarked about did not count¡ªand he still looked like he''d had a makeup team take care of him. There was a sense of alienness that came with the reflection. The figure looking back was recognisable yet detached, as though it belonged to someone else. For a moment, he sat frozen, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. With a soft sigh, he hoisted himself from the edge of the bed, the cool wooden floor once again familiar under his bare feet. Each step towards the mirror was a journey in itself, one foot in front of the other, with an ever-growing sense of unease. It was like a dance, a slow waltz, mirroring the movements he had performed earlier that morning. He halted, standing face to face with his new self, his heart pounding in his chest. He was both the observer and the observed, unsure which of them was really him. He was Sparky, and yet, he wasn''t. He was standing in his own room, and yet it felt foreign. He was looking at his own reflection, and yet it seemed alien. What the fuck is this? A solid set of footsteps caught his attention as they made their way up the stairs, jarring him from his thoughts as they neared his room. He was entirely unsurprised a few seconds later as a rhythmic knocking resounded through his room, its unhurried tempo unmistakable. "Hey, Sparky, you coming down for dinner? Your mom and I made garlic butter chicken," called his father''s familiar voice from beyond the door. "One sec, dad," Sparky replied, his voice echoing in the room. There was a heaviness in his heart that he couldn''t shake off as his eyes lingered on his reflection. His physique had undergone a dramatic transformation, the previously skinny teenager now boasting noticeable muscle definition and a bouncy mane of hair that would make any male model jealous. The stark contrast from just a day ago was glaringly obvious; he''d be lucky if his parents didn''t notice immediately. The mirror reflected back a face that was simultaneously his and yet not his. The airbrushed complexion and voluminous curls of hair were a stark contrast to his once mundane appearance. How long would it be before his parents noticed? His father seemed to have infinite patience and just as much good humor, that much was obvious the way he had taken learning about Greg''s powers. He had glanced at the TV with a joke on his lips, the same sort of attitude he had when buying a new "Kiss The Cook" apron. The man had even sat next to him for a good bit on the couch that day, watching Greg take on Oni Lee on television with the sort of eagerness you''d reserve for a game of football, doing his best to casually cheer him up even when he was worried his friend would lose. Victor Ramon had been unflappable, even as the image on screen blurred and shook, the cameraman on scene earning his paycheck in spades the way he did his best to keep up with a battle involving super-speed, cloning and teleportation. But this was different. This was his son. How do I explain this? Sparky wondered, the question casting long, inky shadows in his mind. His reflection stared back at him, an airbrushed avatar he was still having trouble getting used to. Can I even explain this? Start with something small. Something manageable. Maybe I could tell them it''s just a sudden growth spurt? No, that''s just stupid. Sparky pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to will away the headache that he felt coming on. Can I even get proper headaches any- Not important. He could feel the lies already forming on his tongue, bitter and heavy. What about the gym? I could tell them I''ve been hitting the gym... in the middle of the night... secretly... and it just hit me all at once... Nope, definitely not. Or¡­ or just show them your face straight up. Look, ma, I''m a model now, he winced at the attempt. Yeah, they''ll believe you just changed overnight. His parents deserved the truth, they always had. They deserved the son who got arrested for skating on the Boardwalk, who got straight C''s from sleeping through class and dreamed of being a rockstar/DJ and got noise complaints from the neighbors with his garage band full of high school dropouts. They didn''t deserve a liar. Definitely not their son wearing a stranger''s face lying to them. Yet, the lie was the first thing on his lips. Even if he wanted to lie, though¡­ His mind whirled around, playing out various scenarios, each ending with the same inevitable conclusion - he would have to come clean about his newfound powers. And laying everything out would include¡­ You''re going to have to explain that text, Sparky, a little voice whispered in his mind, a sting of guilt making his heart skip a beat. It was true. He had sent a text late last night, an innocent "I love you" that was sure to raise alarm once his parents bothered looking at their texts. He had done it out of fear, out of desperation, a last-minute message in a bottle to make his parents feel better if he never came home. A teenager sending something like that, especially at midnight, was definitely worrying to any parent, if not immediately panic-worthy. But I''m just fifteen, he thought, a sense of helplessness creeping up his spine. But how do I even begin to explain this? How do I tell them that I''m not the same Sparky they knew? That my best friend put magic hands on me and now I''m different, inside and out. That just sounds... insane.The silent confession hung heavy in the room, the enormity of it causing Sparky to draw in a shaky breath. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, each beat loud in his ears as everything else seemed to be all of a sudden. He snorted, the sound bitter and harsh. Here he was, all tough and super-powered, more scared of telling his parents the truth than he was of fighting his way through Empire members to freedom. It was so insane¡­ just straight up weird. But it was real. The fear of losing his parent''s acceptance was more terrifying than any cape battle he''d watched Greg fight on TV, more nerve-wracking than a hundred Nazis with guns, even. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he gathered his courage. "Dad?" he called out tentatively. "Still here, Ax," his father''s voice reassured him. With a final glance at his own reflection, he summoned his newfound strength, letting it fortify his resolve as he glanced down at his feet. "Can you come in real quick?" he asked, swallowing hard. His gaze lifted from the floor, meeting his own golden eyes in the mirror, the pair glowing at him in the dark. "There''s something I have to tell you." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg''s feet pointed upward, defying gravity, his body held aloft by the strength of two simple digits pressing against the floor. Every muscle tensed and focused, he moved rhythmically as he performed two-fingered handstand pushups with a grace and control that would leave a gymnast stunned. The harsh glow of emergency halogen lights scattered around cut stark shadows across his features, but the blond didn''t even seem to notice the bright glare in his face. Consumed by his thoughts, the teenager hummed a low, tuneless melody to himself, his mind wandering ahead to the next day''s tasks. Okay, so tomorrow is the thing with Sparky... should probably go over those notes again. Then there''s that thing with mom at night... might want to make sure my clothes are ready. The rhythmic count echoed in his mind as he continued his punishing regimen. "Twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three..." Suddenly, the room''s solitary door swung open with a creak, two burly men¡ªone Japanese, the other Chinese¡ªstepped in with a captive between them, their prisoner''s face concealed by a rough bag and hands bound securely behind their back. The men paused, their entrance breaking the rhythmic flow of Greg''s workout and pulling him from his thoughts. "Boss... we got him," one of them, the Chinese one, grunted. The other one simply nodded. Greg didn''t break his upward movement, only lowering his feet slightly as he balanced precariously on his single digits. "Good work, Joey, Wesley." His gaze flickered over to the newcomers, registering their presence and their prisoner before he jerked his head in a brisk nod of acknowledgment. "Set up wherever." "Got it, boss. Joon and Seo say they''re on their way." "Understood." His response was curt, an unspoken command for them to handle their business while he continued with his own. With that, he turned his attention back to the task at hand, his body starting to rise and fall once again. His humming resumed, a quiet melody threading the silence of the room. Alright, back to it... twenty-four... twenty-five... Lag 6.17 Lag 6.17 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "One-sixty¡­" It was interesting just how many properties the former head of the ABB and, by extension, the former ABB itself, had held on to. Granted, the overwhelming majority of those weren''t strictly owned by either of the two, at least not in any official, legal way. "One-sixty one¡­" But legality never really mattered to criminals all that much. "One-sixty two¡­" Or giant, fire-breathing, rage dragons, for that matter. Still¡­ "One-sixty three¡­" It was honestly surprising just how convenient having access to empty warehouses at the far fringes of the Docks could be. Especially when those warehouses had soundproofed back rooms in their basements. In a basement backroom, nested deep beneath a warehouse that bore a deceptive fa?ade of abandonment, Greg Veder raised himself into the air for the one-hundred and seventy-eighth time. His body balanced perfectly atop only his index fingers, both digits managing to keep his body in a gravity-defying handstand. He was in the middle of another set of pushups, two hundred at a time, one finger from each hand being the only points of contact with the cold, recently power-washed concrete beneath him. This wasn''t the typical setting for a workout, but then again, nothing about his life was typical anymore.
+ 1 STR (231 ¡ú 232)
Wow, a Strength gain after almost a whole week. Wondered when that would show up. His body remained taut, as he pushed off the floor for the one-hundred and eighty-secondth instance, legs straight up and facing the ceiling. Each repetition was performed smoothly and carefully, the teenager''s attention focused on training his dexterity and agility more than his strength. His voice echoed softly around the room, bouncing off the cold, hard walls, the repetition numbers inching closer to two hundred. (Acrobatics 47¡ú 48) It had been getting harder and harder to train a lot of his stats, at least not without attracting undue attention. Sure, he could go to the Boat Graveyard in costume and try to drag a trawler across the water with a rope but that would just get the Protectorate on his ass, no matter what persona he chose for that workout. Sooner or later, he''d have to see about maybe ordering Tinker workout gear from¡­ Greg''s mouth turned down into a frown. Where do you order Tinker tech? From somewhere. He''d figure it out. Eventually. Shirtless but not sweating, he wore an expression of detached focus underneath his red polycarbonate helmet, his mind elsewhere as he continued his workout. Sparky, Greg''s thoughts wandered to his friend. Did he tell his folks about last night? They haven''t reached out to me or mom, so maybe he didn''t... With the thought of his friend, he pushed once again, hoisting his body upward, fingers holding steady as he kept them extended. Funny enough, despite the fact that the rest of the building was as empty as church on Super Bowl Sunday, Greg was far from alone in the room. Three men, each one unique in their manner and appearance, occupied the other end of the room, bodies bathed in the sterile glow of emergency lamps scattered around the room. They sat in silent observance, each of them with varied expressions; one of detached interest, another of silent appraisal, and the last held a subtle trace of amusement. The first, a lean Japanese man, held a lit cigarette loosely between his fingers. The crisp white silk of his dress shirt clung loosely to his angular body, the rings of smoke curling from his pursed lips drawing attention away from the growing bruise underneath his right eye. Next to him sat a buff Chinese man, dragon tattoos spiraling up his crossed arms and disappearing beneath the tight-fitting red muscle shirt. His hair, gelled to a sharp faux-hawk, glinted under the harsh light, while a gold chain necklace laid heavy around his thick neck. The last of the trio was a young-looking Korean man, as handsome as he was reserved. His slim figure was encased in a black suit, sans tie, with an unbuttoned collar that seemed to go against his professional appearance. A smile played on his lips, the man seemingly more amused than anything else. In between both Greg and the three others, another man stood center stage. Standing tall and imposing with six feet of height and a good bit of solid muscle, he was a well-built Japanese man without a single bit of hair on his head. "Ugh-ugh-ugh!" A white-and-red motorcycle vest left his arms and chest bare, showing off a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm as thick as they were intricate. A dual pair of katana were attached to the back of his jacket, secured by an attached circular holster that bore an image of a red dragon. A strip of red fabric tied around his wrists matched the dark-red pants he wore, but the red on his clothes didn''t really compare to the red on his hands. "Ah¡­ Ah!" Or where it came from. "Ngh!Ngh!Ngh!Ngh!" In front of him was a man sitting in a chair; younger, smaller, scrawnier. His clothing mirrored that of the bigger man, a pale imitation, but the similarities ended there. Where one sat vulnerable, hands tied behind him and legs bound to the chair, the other was free to stand and rain down blows on him. Each strike from the larger man left the younger one gasping, bruises blooming across his body from repeated blows. His body bore the brutal imprint of fists, blood flowing freely from split lips and opened wounds, every single hit drawing wince-inducing sounds from the smaller man. "Nghh-nghhhhhhhh!" "Two hundred," Greg''s clear voice broke the rhythm of punches and pained grunts as he held the final hand-stand. That makes five sets of two hundred. New record. Nice. With a final push, he launched from his handstand and flipped to his feet, landing upright in one fluid motion. The seated men offered him polite applause, Greg raising an unseen eyebrow and giving the men only an audible snort. Man, Lung had these guys trained like dogs. Shaking his head, Greg turned the white lenses of his helmet over to the two men in the center of the room, raising his hand in a clear signal. "Alright, Joey," he announced, authority clear in his tone. "Enough. It''s time for Yuri to talk." The muscular Japanese man nodded silently and offered his boss a respectful deep bow, Greg returning the respect with a simple nod. Before turning to take his own seat alongside Seo, Greg''s second-in-command and advisor, and the two other lieutenants, he pulled a harsh face and spat on the young man he had spent the last thirty minutes beating. The teenager raised an eyebrow at the action but, after a moment, he found that he couldn''t really fault the bad blood, considering the circumstances. The room seemed to grow colder as Greg moved. His steps were measured as they rang against the hard floor, filling the room with an intimidating rhythm. Each and every one echoed in the silence, each breath Yuri took harsher, raspier and more desperate as Greg closed in on him. Finally, he stopped, standing just a few feet away from Yuri, his body towering over the pitiful man strapped to the chair. His gaze was cold, expression as unreadable as the featureless mask he wore. Instead of speaking, Greg simply stared, taking a few seconds to sift through the mountain of information Seo had gathered and handed to him about four days ago, his mind piecing together the fragmented life of the man in front of him. Yuri Utsuro, not even a full decade older than Greg himself, had been steeped in the ABB culture from birth. His father, a former boss in the pre-Lung era¡ªback when the ABB''s roots were still firmly planted in Boston¡ªhad managed to survive Lung''s original power play in the early 2000s by almost immediately joining the cape''s side. He had even retained a semblance of his power, managing a section of the ABB and securing a middling leadership role for his son, Yuri, before the geezer had kicked it of a heart attack. Yuri¡­ Yuri wasn''t much to write about. He wasn''t particularly smart, or particularly strong. Hell, he didn''t even seem to have any real skills in particular. Truthfully, there was nothing extraordinary about him, but that might have been all he needed. Yuri was sly enough to stay out of notice and keep his head down. The ABB legacy had a knack for survival, a trait that had acted as his luck. Or it had been, up until now. He had navigated the treacherous waters under Lung''s rule, maintaining his position in the lower middle of the shitheap that was the former ABB hierarchy and did his best not to rock the boat. Apparently, that had changed when the new leadership came in. Greg had given Seo specific criteria for selecting the heads of the three main factions and his second had narrowed that down to; a) being young, b) having experience, and c) not having done that much fucked up shit. Utsuro''s name had floated to the surface and he was picked as the Head Lieutenant of the Whites, his second-in-command one Jonouchi Takata. As it would turn out, he was a shit choice. Not Joey, though. Joey was good people. Greg''s arms crossed over his chest, an imposing figure against the harsh halogen lighting that struck him from behind. He finally broke the silence. "Utsuro Yuri," his voice cut through the tension in the room, chilling and detached, "Do you know why you''re here?" His question hung in the air as several long seconds stretched into an agonizing half minute. The room was filled with Yuri''s labored breaths and pitiful whines, Greg growing more irritated as the man refused to speak. "That''s not a rhetorical question, by the way. I want to know that you at least get why you''re here," he spoke again, hand slicing through the air as he urged Yuri to respond. A moan was Yuri''s initial response, the sounds that followed barely more than a mumble. Greg''s response was to raise a hand mockingly to where his ear would be under his helmet. "I didn''t quite catch that," the teenager lied. "One more time for the whole class, Yuri. Come on." A shudder of a gasp wracked Yuri''s body, a clear sign of the pain he was in. Then, finally, the admission spilled from his lips. "I...I sold...I sold information." "To. Who. Yuri?" Greg was relentless, his voice a hammer against the cold silence, his body leaning in, crowding Yuri''s space. With a gasp, Yuri confessed. He had sold the information to the Dragons and the Triad. His words, laced with fear and pain, tumbled out in a hurry, almost tripping over each other in their haste. "I didn''t think it was a big deal," he added weakly, a blatant lie that rang hollow in the echoing room. "I didn''t tell them anything they could use, I swear." Greg, closing the distance between them, now stood barely a foot away from Yuri. "Yuri," he began, his voice low, his tone almost soothing. His words rolled off his tongue, a whisper in the cold air. "I knew that." Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "W-what?" Yuri''s response was shaky, filled with surprise and confusion. He flinched, a reaction to the sudden jerking of Greg''s thumb towards the three men who sat behind him. "Well, Seo knew it," Greg corrected, the man in question raising a lazy hand as he was mentioned. His eyes glared at Yuri as he took a pull from his cigarette. "He told me you were snitching to them last week." "Y-you¡­" Yuri stuttered, his words hanging in the air. "Yeah, I knew. I told him not to kill you too," Greg continued, a carefree tone to his words as he announced the man''s stay of execution. Beneath the nonchalance, though, there was an odd heat to his words as he continued. "Figured¡­well, I figured it was better we knew where the leak was coming from. That way, we''d feed you wrong info, taking care of that issue, and if anyone else joins up with you, we could easily take care of all of you¡­ at once." "B-boss¡­" The eruption that followed rattled the room. "YOU DON''T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!" Greg''s roar was a physical force, a shockwave of anger and disappointment that rippled through the stuffy, poorly-ventilated room with a wave of pressurized air. The energy in the room transformed instantly, the heavy stillness replaced by a pulsating vitality. The outburst was nearly enough to send the four men behind him jumping out of their seats, clear panic in their eyes for a moment. Still, though, they managed to keep their cool, limiting their reactions to a subtle shift of posture, a tensing of muscles, and a visible edge of wariness in their stances. " ¥ª©`¥Þ¥¤¥´¥Ã¥É ¤Ê¤ó¤Æ¤³¤Ã¤¿ ¤ª¤ª¡¢¤¯¤½£¡1" Yuri on the other hand was nearly screaming his head off in Japanese, the man suddenly animated with fear despite his wounds and the pain he was in. Adrenaline seemed to override everything else as a string of stuttered words left his mouth in a sudden rush. "O-okay, fuck, fuck! Fuck! I''m sorry! I w-won''t!"
Intimidation Lv 22 ¡ú 24
"You don''t get to call me that," Greg reiterated, his voice dipping back to a calm murmur. His head shook subtly in denial, a soft growl echoing deep in his throat. "You don''t¡­ fuck." A clipped sound of irritation bounced off his tongue as he raised his hands to his temples, deft fingers easing his helmet off his head. A stark silence hit the room, a palpable quietness, the result of five men collectively holding their breaths. Every sound, every whisper of movement seemed amplified in the oppressive silence. Swiveling on his heels, eyes closed against the world, Greg casually tossed his helmet-mask in the direction of his second-in-command, his warning no more than a deep, growled utterance of "Seo." Yet, the man in question made a deft catch, not a hint of fumble in his action. Tucking the helmet under his arm, Seo let his spent cigarette fall to the floor, his attention fully on the capricious young man he called "Boss". His gaze, filled with a curious blend of caution and respect, was glued to Greg. All the while, the young man stood there, eyes closed, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts. Seo kept his gaze forward, pointedly ignoring the pleading stares from the three lieutenants, their wide eyes begging him to calm down the irritated cape. Seo cleared his throat, the dry cough echoing in the silence. He was acutely aware of his precarious standing, the knowledge that his life hung by a thread never something he didn''t think about. Hell, he knew damn well the only reason he was still six feet above ground was because the kid in front of him had laughed off his attempt at murder and allowed him to trade his life in exchange for a shitty pawn shop sword. "B-boss¡­" "Yeah, sorry," Greg broke his silence, his head lifting and his eyes blinking open. The sight that greeted the four men sparked quiet surprise. A pair of slitted blue eyes, reminiscent of a predator, stared back at them, cold aggression and pure hunger visible at a glance. Beneath those piercing eyes, a row of teeth sharp like tiny daggers framed by a smirk that could almost pass for friendly. "Hey, hey there, boys. Don''t worry, I''m fine. You''re fine. It''s all good." It was bizarre, he knew that, trying to calm down four hardened gang members and killers like this. Yet, he knew he had to. He was different like this¡­ rougher. Greg''s words, while lighthearted, were undercut by the intensity of his gaze, the primal look in his eyes taking the air out of his forced nonchalance The energy in the room shifted once more, the silence taking on a new edge, the tension ratcheting up another notch. "Yeaaaahhhhhh," Greg drawled, head cocking to the side as if contemplating something profound. The word stretched out in his mouth, an elastic band of sound."I was trying to see if I could get my anger under control. Usually, I''m really good at that. But this¡­" Greg tapped the bridge of his nose, the spot directly between his eyes. "This is kind of its own thing. I''m not even angry, just iRRitaTeD." The last word left his mouth with a noise like metal being pushed through a grinder, the sound sending a shudder down the backs of everyone present. Greg offered them a brighter smile, "Kinda like a boner for my powers. Just gotta wait for it to go away on its own sometimes." "Boss¡­" Seo murmured, anxiousness seeping into his voice as the weight of Greg''s words sunk in. This was unprecedented. Seeing the boy''s face without even the cover of a domino mask was disturbing. It wasn''t what capes did. "Relax, Seo," Greg began once more, fixing his focus on the men seated before him. Their wary postures reflected the tension buzzing in the air. "I''m letting you all see my face." A moment passed, and then he pulled a face, quickly correcting himself, "Well, not exactly my real face, 90-95%, I guess. Can''t exactly fix that right now, can I?" "B-boss," Seo attempted again, his chest knotting with tension as he realized the only exit was behind the monologuing blond. Nothing good ever came after a cape''s monologue. That was just a law of nature. "Don''t interrupt me, Seo," Greg shot back calmly, his second shutting his jaw with an audible click. "Seo Asada, Wesley Yang, Joon Lee, Jonouchi Takata." At the sound of their names tumbling from his lips in that deep gravelly voice, each man stiffened, their backs straighter. "As your boss, I''m making the executive decision that you should receive my trust. Trust is very important to me. If you betray that trust, well¡­" His words trailed off into a scoff, quickly morphing into a laugh that held just a hint of manic energy. "Well, I don''t know what I would do." The quiet sound of two men swallowing echoed in the room. Seo and Jonouchi, on the other hand, simply nodded as if expecting as much. "Anyway," Greg pivoted on his heels, his attention swiveling back to Yuri. The man, bound and beaten, flinched visibly at the shift in focus. "Back to the guest of honor." Yuri let out a soft groan, the only protest he could muster. "You''re here not because of the Triad or the Dragons, Yuri," Greg resumed, leaning in towards the pitiful figure tied to the chair. "You''re here because of the Empire." Yuri froze in his place, his response choked off by shock and fear. If not for the dark bruises and drying blood marring his face, Greg would have seen the blood drain from it. "You didn''t just sell basic info to the Empire. You gave them addresses. You gave them names. You betrayed your brothers and sisters. You got their families hurt. Some of them¡­ killed." A stunned silence hovered over the room. The revelation hit like a punch, sucking the air from the room. "...f-fuck," Yuri finally managed to gasp out, the lone word falling flat in the heavy silence. "And then you tried to run," Greg''s voice dipped, becoming a low rumble that reverberated around the room. Leaning over Yuri, his hands resting on the back of the chair, the blond flexed his clawed fingers, wood shattering under the force of his grip. "You tried to pack-up and run like a fucking coward. Joey, a great fucking guy by the way, your new replacement, loyal to a fucking fault, had to take you down and bring you in. Isn''t that just fucking sad?" Yuri didn''t respond this time, only offering silence in response. Not even a gasp of pain or a whimper of fear, he just stared back quietly. "I said, isn''t that just fucking sad?" Greg repeated, an added edge to his voice. "...f-fuck you," came the garbled response, more a wheeze than actual words. "What?" Fueled by some indescribable blend of frustration, resentment, and desperation, Yuri focused his single functioning eye on Greg, the other swollen shut from earlier punishment. The glare he shot the gang boss was filled with pure hatred. "I s-said, fuck you!" "Alright," Greg responded, straightening up, a strange kind of fascination lighting up his eyes. "I''ll humor you. Go ahead, say your piece. This might be fun." "Nnnngghhh! ¤ªÇ°¤Ë¤Ï¸¹¤¬Á¢¤Ä£¡2 See, right there," Yuri forced out, his words punctuated by the spit of blood from his lips as he strained against his restraints. "We''re just a fucking joke. There''s no more fucking Azn Bad Boyz. You fucked Lee, and your fucking partner fucked Lung and Bakuda, you fucking fucks!" "Classy," Greg interjected, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Sh-shut up! For fucking once!" Yuri retorted, his voice a venomous hiss. "You''re not funny, you''re just another white boy with too much fuckin'' power! We¡­ we were something. Brockton Bay was our fucking kingdom. We had more power here than even back in the old days in Boston! We had respect, people watched their fucking tone, they bowed when they saw us. Even the Nazis had to watch their shit! The Docks, The Trainyard District, the fuckin'' Downtown Coast? We were at the top there. Even the kids, fuckin'' newbies got treated like kings!" The man was panting now, his breathing ragged and harsh, painting a vivid picture of his struggle. Another mouthful of blood was spat out before he continued again. "A-a-and now, even our own people can''t fucking stand us. I gotta get cursed out by some fucking baasan3 in front of her grandkids because our names got dragged through the mud by some kid looking for cape cred!" Greg watched him, the lopsided grin on his face not faltering for a moment. He listened to Yuri''s disjointed rant, his stammered words painting a picture in his head. "Now every-fuckin''-body smells blood in the water, from h-ere to fucking Virginia! Fuckers on the street don''t show respect and we got bottom feeders from Boston and New York thinking we''re easy prey cus we don''t got capes in charge no more!" Yuri''s words spilled out in a slurred mess, his rage evident in every muttered sentence and desperate gasp for breath. The corner of Greg''s mouth quirked upwards, a clear note of amusement twinkling in his eyes as he smirked at the man''s words. "I''m literally right here." "F-fuck off! You''re fuckin'' nothin. You got no cred. You ain''t even the fuckin'' one that took Lung down!" Yuri spat, his voice raspy from his previous tirade. "You didn''t even go out and let the people know we at least have a fucking cape! All you do is fuckin'' run around and clean up after the Nazis decide to pull shit! We got no real leader, fuckin hell!" Yuri spat once again, literally this time, a fresh mouthful of blood falling just short of Greg''s boots. "No capes, no cred, no leader! We might as well be fuckin'' ronin!" "...You''re right." "Yeah, you fuckin'' f¡­" Yuri''s words stumbled to a halt, anger giving way to surprise as he shot Greg a puzzled look. "What?" "You''re right," Greg repeated, a nod emphasizing his words. His grin softened into a simple, amused smile. "I haven''t been public enough, I haven''tmade it clear enough that we''re not to be fucked with. I haven''t been effective and firm enough with my leadership." He nodded once more. "That''s all on me. My fault, Yuri." "Uhhh¡­" "It''s not even your fault that those kids got hurt or killed. It''s mine. I should have confronted you when Seo told me to," Greg mused aloud, his hand coming up to cup his chin as if contemplating a chess move. "I was too smart for my own good there. My fault again." Yuri simply blinked in response, confusion etched on his battered face. "Uh-huh." Greg''s acknowledgment, his acceptance of blame, was disarming. It was meant to be. It pulled the rug out from under Yuri, turning his expectations on their head. It was a form of control, a demonstration of power. But it was also genuine. It was true that he had not been visible enough, not been decisive enough. That''s gotta change. He had to change. After all, admitting your mistakes is the first step towards correcting them. And correction was something Greg was very good at. "I guess¡­" Greg''s voice trailed off as he let out a drawn-out sigh, his hand absentmindedly running through his blond hair. "I guess I''ve been trying to be more of a relaxed, chill leader, you know." He made a small self-deprecating smile at the bloody man tied up in front of him. "When I see a situation, I always think to myself, ''What Would Lung Do?'' and then, I sorta do the opposite." He shook his head, a sigh slipping past his lips as he cast a vaguely apologetic glance at the traitor. "Like, look at right now. You know what Lung would do to you?" Yuri visibly grimaced, the gruesome mental image evidently off-putting as he squirmed in his seat. "He¡­ he probably would have burned me alive, roasted right on the fuckin'' spot ¡ª that''s classic Lung." "Yeah¡­" Greg nodded in agreement, his gaze falling back to the terrified man before him. "And you see, I''m not Lung." "Yeah," Yuri parroted back, his voice wavering with what seemed to be relief, appearing in his one good eye. In a single motion, Greg raised a single finger to his face. With a flick of his will, a tiny tongue of flame burst to life atop his index, dancing and flickering in the dim room. His blue slitted eyes were fixed on Yuri, a predatory smile slowly spreading across his face. "But if it ain''t broke¡­" "Wha-" Greg''s cheeks expanded slightly, a rush of air held captive within his mouth. He watched the spark of realization flicker in the traitor''s eyes, sudden understanding hitting him in the worst way. Yuri''s lips parted, ready to scream, to protest, to beg for mercy. But before the first syllable could escape, Greg let loose his breath. With a powerful exhalation that reverberated through the room like the roar of a dragon, the small tongue of fire burst. A searing jet of flame exploded forth, illuminating the room with a harsh, blinding light that put the emergency lights to shame. The temperature spiked dramatically as a furnace-like heat engulfed Yuri, choking his would-be scream before it could fully form. The once whole man was subsumed by a fiery hellstorm, wild, roaring flame scraping hungrily at his flesh. Seconds passed and Greg extinguished the remnants of the inferno with a swift closing of his fist. The sudden absence of light and heat was jarring, leaving behind only the ashen remnants of the burnt wooden chair and the charred remains of Yuri. The teenager stared impassively at the blackened scorch mark on the concrete floor and the grisly remains of the traitor, his mind already drifting to other thoughts. "Ronin, huh..." he mused out loud to the eerily quiet room, his voice no longer booming, barely more than a whisper really. The word echoed in his mind, its implications intriguing him. "I kinda like that." With a casual spin on his heels, Greg turned to face his remaining men, a blank expression on his face. His gaze flicked over to the one furthest on the left. "By the way, I need you to get someone to pick up my dry cleaning from the Chen''s. I''m going out tomorrow night. Real fancy¡­ but before that, what do you say we get something to eat?" A mouth of straight white teeth glittered in the light as he grinned at each one of them in turn. "I''m feeling... teriyaki pork?"
Intimidation Lv 24 ¡ú 25
Lag 6.18 Lag 6.18 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 9:50 AM Docks - North Sparky kicked off the ground, his skateboard connecting with the worn asphalt of the docks'' back streets. The docks were still and quiet as they usually were, the empty silence of the dead shipping area comforting in their own way. The solitude gave him the space he needed to really think. He had left his house half an hour earlier, the sun barely making its way into the morning sky, and now found himself carving a path through the empty streets at a blinding pace. The cool breeze kissed his face as he weaved in and out of alleyways, the world around him all too visible even as he kicked against the ground as hard as he could manage. Once again, he pushed off the rough pavement, the whisper of his skateboard wheels a faint, comforting murmur under the chilly morning sky. He was moving fast, faster than he had ever been on a board, his feet barely touching the surface before they were off again, sending him darting forward. His balance was impeccable, his reflexes lightning-fast, his agility unprecedented. But¡­ The olive-skinned teenager glanced at his surroundings, a sea of gray buildings and deserted lots, stark silhouettes standing against the early morning sky. He was pretty much alone, the only sign of life in this forgotten part of town after the ABB mostly went to ground. There were rumors that the Archer¡¯s Bridge Merchants had started getting cockier, whispers they were planning to poke at the Trainyards and Docks after the ABB had disappeared from the public eye. Sparky didn¡¯t see any sign of that anywhere. Instead, there was an odd tranquility in the emptiness, a quiet sense of peace that washed over him as he sped through the streets. His mouth was barely more than a thin line, eyes focused on the path ahead as his mind moved faster than the board beneath his feet. Why isn''t this fun anymore? He wondered, the realization creeping up on him as he performed a trick, his skateboard twisting in the air beneath him, the motion so smooth it seemed almost effortless. Is it too slow? Is it too easy? His mind raced even as his body followed the familiar rhythm of the board, the feel of the rough texture beneath his feet, the wind rushing past him. Yet, something was missing. The thrill, the excitement, the adrenaline rush he used to feel when he pushed his limits on the board just wasn¡¯t there anymore. It just felt too casual now, like he was going through the motions or something. Still caught up in his own thoughts, Sparky approached a narrow alleyway. Without thinking, he angled his skateboard toward a haphazardly discarded crate, gaining more and more speed as he neared. With an effortless push, he launched himself into the air, board spinning underneath him as he executed a high-speed 720 flip. The world was a blur as he rotated, the skateboard spinning synchronously beneath him. With a fluidity that would have stunned almost anyone, he landed back on the board, its wheels touching the ground with a satisfying clatter. Without even raising his eyebrows, he continued his high-speed skate, his thoughts still consumed by the uncanny ease of it all. Am I just bored? He mused, furrowing his brows as he grappled with the perplexing feelings. Skating had always been his escape, his solace. It was the one thing that truly made him feel alive, feel free. But now, it felt like just another activity, still fun, but not quite as thrilling as it used to be. As he zipped past the docks, the murmur of the waves crashing against the shore reached his ears, a rhythmic lullaby that blended seamlessly with the hum of his wheels on the pavement. He allowed the sound to wash over him, his mind quieting for a brief moment. His focus drifted back to the board beneath his feet, the cityscape speeding past him. It was as if he was observing everything from a distance, detached and indifferent. It hadn¡¯t even crossed his mind for a single moment that the trick he had executed moments ago was perilous, even deadly for an ordinary skateboarder, something he¡¯d only ever thought about trying. But I''m not ordinary, am I? The thought crossed his mind, like it had several dozen times in the last twenty-four hours. The memory of last night¡¯s coming out to his parents intruded upon Sparky''s thoughts as he took a sudden, sharp turn without slowing down. His father, a picture of stoic calm, his face an unreadable mask. His mother, a whirlwind of worry and panic, barely contained. He had laid it out as simply as possible, his parents already shocked by his change in appearance: he was empowered, he had been kidnapped by Empire 88, but he had triggered when they kidnapped him, escaped before they could hurt him and he was okay now. ¡°See, not a mark on me,¡± he had said with a smile. ¡°Literally.¡± They were caught off guard, understandably. Sparky had expected a slew of questions, probing and prodding, but it was as if they were both stunned into silence. His dad had eventually regained his composure, his characteristic cheery calmness returning. "Sparky," he had started, his voice steady but carrying a hint of concern, "We''re glad you''re okay." His mom, though, was less convinced. ¡°My baby!¡± The fear in her eyes hadn¡¯t really eased up even after he did his best to let her know he hadn''t actually been hurt. It was a lie, sure, but it was a comforting one, and it was enough to calm her down, if only a little. She had eased up a bit, the wateriness in her eyes going away, and stopped smothering him in an insanely tight hug but he knew his mom well enough to try to lie to himself that she was completely at peace.. His dad seemed to pick up on that too. Despite his usual calm demeanor, there was more than a glint of suspicion in his eyes. He didn''t question Sparky''s story, but there was a clear understanding between the both of them as he locked eyes with the old man over his mom;s shoulder: he wasn''t buying what his son was selling. That was when Sparky decided to leave out Greg''s involvement in everything that went down, pushing it to a general later. His friend tearing through the Empire was a tale for another day, something that was sure to make it to the news soon enough. Besides, he didn''t want to put his parents through more shit, they had plenty to freak about with just him. They were just glad he was okay, and that was enough. The following morning, he left his house, ignoring the lingering tension and the concerned glances from his parents. It was uncomfortable, this newfound fear they held for him, but he understood it. His world had shifted drastically overnight, and theirs had too. Yet, even with their worry, he could see that they were okay, accepting even. His little demonstration of what his new body could do probably had a lot to do with making sure they felt a lot better about his safety. After all, when your son picks up the couch over his head, it¡¯s hard to feel all that scared about the average person doing much to him. Honestly, whatever made them sleep better was fine with him. As Sparky coasted down the deserted streets of the docks, he couldn''t help but replay the scene with his parents over and over. He had told them about his powers, about his whole new deal, but he had left out the details about anything involving Greg. Something big like granting powers¡­ he didn¡¯t feel like that was something he could just put out there. It didn¡¯t feel like his secret to tell. Still, it was something that he was still struggling with as he tore through the city streets, his mind a whirl of uncertainty. Am I gonna have to keep lying forever? As he neared his location, he coasted to a stop, the momentum carrying him over a dozen meters more before he finally came to a halt at the end of a street, the signs above him clueing him that he was at the right intersection. He stood there for a moment, skateboard under his feet, and dug his phone out of his basketball shorts. ¡°Okay¡­ where are you?¡± The morning sun began to cast long shadows around him as he raised his head from his messages to cast searching glances at the empty warehouses around him, looking for the right one. He didn¡¯t have to look for long. Sparky released a low, sardonic whistle, his gaze sweeping over to the hulking warehouse to his right. The building stood in solidarity with the rusting, forgotten industrial landscape around it that represented the Docks to a T. The outside bore the battle scars of a war against time¡ªpaint peeling away like sunburnt skin, the bricks underneath coated with grime. It sat there like an old lion, crumbling but still kinda beautiful. You could tell this was something at one point, a real place where shit happened. Not like some of the real horror show buildings Sparky knew were sprinkled around this part of town. Gotta hand it to Greg, Sparky thought, the guy''s got a knack for picking prime real estate. If this superhero/supervillain thing doesn¡¯t work out, brah should become a Scooby Doo villain. A moment later, his eyes dropped to the warehouse¡¯s entrance. Twin doors, as gray and lifeless as the rest of the building, were emblazoned with a garish letter "H." A mess of jagged lines and errant drips, the graffiti was a vivid splash of red against the dull monotony. Its edges were faintly outlined in black and white, like some kind of comic book detail. Sparky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°Subtle as a fucking brick, G.¡± With a dismissive shake of his head, Sparky kicked his skateboard off the ground, catching it mid-air with practiced ease. He tucked it under his arm and advanced towards the building, his footsteps echoing in the morning silence. As he walked, his eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings. Since the chaos two nights ago, he¡¯d been on high alert. Twitchy. Paranoid, even. His previously quiet world was now filled with imagined threats lurking in the shadows. The simple, basic fact that he could easily lift a grown man off the ground by their neck didn''t make the creeping sense of unease any easier to shake. Honestly, his brush with death had left more of a mark on him than he¡¯d like to admit. Near death, my ass. I got stabbed and shot fucking twice. And not even a fucking mark on me the next morning, he scoffed inwardly, his eyes narrowing as a fleeting movement caught his attention. He snapped his head to his right, only to let out a sigh as his heightened senses recognized it for what it was¡ªan overgrown rat scurrying away. "Get it together, Sparks," he muttered to himself. It was a fun little fact that he had learned about his senses since yesterday; the more things demanding his attention, the less they seemed to bother him. Being in a mostly silent, small, dark room with nothing but his thoughts sent them on overdrive. Going outside¡­ not so much. Weird, he knew, but he¡¯d take any relief at this point. As he neared the warehouse¡¯s entrance, he noted the doors were slightly ajar, just wide enough for a couple people to squeeze through side by side. He glanced around and behind him once more as hesitation tiptoed around the edges of his bravado for a split second. ¡°Fuck it.¡± Shaking his head, Sparky squared his shoulders and stepped in. The gloom inside the warehouse was thick, barely any light coming in through the grime-covered windows, yet his eyes adjusted almost instantly. Those same eyes came in handy, allowing him to see all the way to the back of the warehouse with perfect clarity as he scanned the area. This was unfamiliar territory, yet he felt an odd surge of adrenaline as he navigated through it. ¡°Greg?¡± His voice was louder than he intended, bouncing off the walls and ceiling, filling the space with echoes. He ventured further into the belly of the warehouse, head swiveling, eyes unblinking. His heart pounded slightly in his chest, the silence and the darkness making it even more obvious and annoying. Deep breaths, Sparks, he reminded himself. Then, in an effort to shake off the growing unease, he called out again, his voice stronger this time. "Greeeeg? You there, brah?" Sparky froze, his eyes darting to the left as a faint noise wafted to his ears. His breath hitched as paranoia crawled under his skin, worming its way into his thoughts. Each creak and groan of the warehouse played in high definition, amplified by the pounding in his chest. "G-man?" His call out for Greg sounded shaky, even to his ears, and he berated himself for letting his fear seep into his voice. Something rustled nearby, a low, grating sound that shot ice through his veins. A desperate gasp for breath hitched in his throat, his chest tightening with the suffocating grip of fear. A rustle. A scratch. The warehouse seemed to come alive, the huge building suddenly far too close and tight. Sparky whirled around, gaze scanning the building for the source of the sound, eyes darting around and straining to catch any movement. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles bleached white under the strain. He could feel the cold bite of adrenaline in his veins, sparking his senses into overdrive. Why couldn¡¯t he see anything, though? "Boo." A soft whisper tickled his ear, causing an instinctive, totally manly shriek to tear itself from his throat. Fear fueled his jump, panic propelling him almost two entire body lengths away from the disembodied voice. Landing with only a slight backward stumble, he raised his fists again, hearth thrumming a rapid drumbeat against his ribs. The adrenaline rush gradually receded as his senses finally caught up. His racing pulse slowed, but his breaths still came in short, ragged bursts. His gaze finally focused on a figure rolling around on the grimy warehouse floor, a blond head shining faintly in the dim light. As the fog of fear began to recede, the familiar sounds of uproarious laughter filled the warehouse. Sparky''s bloodshot eyes honed in on the source of the annoying sound¡ªa blonde-haired menace convulsing in laughter on the warehouse floor. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. That absolute fucking moron. "What the fuck, brah?" Sparky demanded as his voice wavered, irritation replacing the spike of terror. His heart was still racing, body still on high alert, breaths still coming in heavy bursts, but he forced himself to steady, eyeing Greg with heat in his gaze. In a swift, almost fluid motion, Greg was on his feet again, still shaking with laughter as he dusted off his clothes. "Jesus Christ," he wheezed out between gasps, slapping his knee as he succumbed to another fit of laughter.. "You should have seen your face. Screamed like a girl, I swear." Sparky was still catching his breath when he asked the question that was spinning around his brain. "Where the hell did you come from?" he finally spluttered out, voice edged with irritation and disbelief. Greg, the casual bastard, paused for a moment, and held up a hand, fingers splayed open. Then, with an infuriatingly smug grin¡­ "Well, first, I was on the wall behind you," he started, dropping one finger. "Then, I crawled up the wall," he continued, a second finger joining the first. "Then the ceiling," a third finger, "swung on some rafters," a fourth, "and then I dropped down behind you." He finished, closing his thumb into the rest of the fist. Confusion etched its lines on Sparky''s face as he tried to picture the blond''s acrobatic journey. His brow furrowed, disbelief flickering in his eyes as he stared back at Greg silently. ¡°Huh.¡± Greg, for his part, only nodded sagely as if he''d just imparted some grand wisdom. "Yeah, people don''t really look up. I don''t know why." Sparky''s incredulous gaze remained on his friend, fear a fading echo in the back of his mind. He shook his head, barely able to muster up a coherent response. "But m-my... my senses... How did I not see you? Hear you? Anything?" A single snort left Greg¡¯s lips. "You sure about that? You actually noticed when I was moving around. That''s not normal. Average person barely notices me, especially when I''m above them. I''ve gotten pretty good at stealth missions, you know." A moment later, he clicked his tongue and added, ¡°Clearly something you need to work on, partner.¡± The snide comment brought a flush of annoyance to Sparky''s face, irritation long having replaced fear. His entire body vibrated with a burning cocktail of emotions - anger, embarrassment, relief, and a bright burning desire to punch his best friend right in his smirking face. He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he bit his tongue rather than curse out the other boy. Not. Cool. "So funny. Wish I recorded that, though," Greg said with a chuckle as he placed his hands behind his back, both of them cupping his head. Sparky smirked back, irritation quickly melting away as his usual relaxed demeanor popped its head back up. He shot back, tone laced with a mocking threat, "It''d be the last wish you ever made." ¡°Oooh, Mr. Girly Scream is so scary,¡± Greg snickered, hair bouncing with his movement. His fingers came up to adjust the frames of his glasses, the lenses catching the overhead light. Glasses? Wait. Sparky''s brain stuttered. His gaze narrowed on his friend, really taking in him properly. His eyes traveled from the blue-and-white tracksuit to the oddly thick, geeky glasses perched on Greg¡¯s face, the mirrored lenses shimmering in the dull light in a way that clearly wasn¡¯t prescription. ¡°Glasses!¡± Sparky found himself blurting out, the question spilling out before he could stop it. ¡°I mean,¡± he paused to cough, trying to sound uninterested and chill, ¡°why are you wearing glasses, dumbass?¡± Greg, unbothered by the insult, flashed a grin. ¡°Eye issues,¡± he replied cryptically. As he lifted his head, the light above ricocheted off his lenses, making them seem to glow from within. ¡°Better not to ask, honestly.¡± Sparky could only blink at that vague explanation. Yeah, I¡¯m gonna need more facts on that but¡­ later. "Okay. Can I ask why am I here, then? What is this about anyway?" His question hung in the air as his gaze swept over the interior of the warehouse. He had expected a grimy, cobweb-covered mess typical of abandoned buildings. But this place¡­ No, this place was not like that. The concrete floor was visibly freshly cleaned, the only sign of a mess being the caked-in stains that one would expect of years and years of use and hard regular work. Still, it was far from the decades worth of dust and grime that he''d thought he would see. The walls bore fresh coats of paint, a stark contrast to their weather-beaten exterior. The ceiling, too, looked surprisingly intact, unbothered by leaks or rot. Yet, the windows looked just as neglected, the outside grime making the washed insides pointless. "Also, follow-up, aren''t these buildings abandoned? How the hell is this place so clean?" At the barrage of questions, Greg¡¯s eyebrow arched higher, amusement glinting in his eyes. He let out a snort, the sound echoing in the spacious room. "Well, in reverse order, I have a guy for that." "A guy?" Sparky interrupted, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, a guy. He has a small business doing power washing and building renovation. Name''s Glen. Glen Yang," Greg elaborated nonchalantly, pausing for a moment as he tilted his head to the side, seemingly caught in thought. Then, he added, "with three Ns." Sparky blinked, taken aback by the random trivia. "Three?" "Yeah." "But, where?" Greg¡¯s expression shifted into one of pure bewilderment as he parroted back, "What do you mean where?" His gaze swept over Sparky, almost pitying, as if he were dealing with a particularly slow student. "In his name, dude." The sullen teenager looked at Greg, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water. After a moment of silence, he managed to choke out a sound, somewhat resembling a strangled cat. Then, he managed to form words, "I mean, where in his name, Glen or Yang?" His question was met with a dismissive scoff from Greg. "Obviously the first name, dude," he retorted. "Don''t be silly." Sparky could only stare, his expression caught between incredulity and irritation. He managed to mimic Greg''s tone, pitching his voice higher as he said, "...don''t be silly," his hand flapping in imitation of his friend¡¯s mouth. "Bringing up fucking Glennnn and I''m the silly one. Fucking hate your ass, I swear." At Sparky¡¯s display of annoyance, Greg only hummed nonchalantly. "You done whining? Cause I can give you like five, ten more minutes to get it all out?" Sparky glared at his friend, then sighed in resignation. "...just¡­ just tell me why I''m here?" "Well, okay. I''m gonna be real with you, Sparks. You''re not my mom. I can''t keep eyes on you all day,¡± Greg stated, his voice unusually low and sincere for a moment. "Uhhh¡­" Sparky blinked, caught off guard by the wording and sudden tone shift. The hell was that about? "But I do want you to stay safe. And now¡­ well, now you have powers, so you can keep yourself safe," Greg paused, his gaze steady and intense, as if he was carefully measuring Sparky¡¯s reaction. "I just gotta make sure you can use them right." His eyebrows shooting up, Sparky shot back, "Oh, so you''re just gonna teach me how to use my powers?" He couldn¡¯t help but feel a little excited, honestly. Apart from the short run home yesterday, he hadn¡¯t had a chance to really test drive what he could do. He definitely hadn¡¯t got a chance to really go all out either. ¡°....mmm,¡± Greg only wiggled his hand from side to side, his boyish grin widening. "Basically, yeah." "Huh, I figured this was just gonna be you trying to figure out how strong and fast I was, the way I did you way back when," Sparky replied, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought back to that long day that felt like it had been literal years back. Wild how that was only two months ago. Things had changed so quickly "Nah nah," Greg dismissed Sparky''s words, hand sweeping through the air with a dramatic flourish. "That''s what I''ve got these babies for. I can do that with a quick look," he explained, jabbing two fingers back towards his eyes. "Nah, I''m just here to give you a real quick rundown on superhero life. 10 quick lessons." "Huh?" Sparky frowned, his eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise. A sense of wariness crept into his gut as he noticed the broadening smirk on Greg''s face. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell his friend was on about, but Greg was already on a roll. "Lesson One," Greg began, his tone shifting as he glanced down at his right hand. He then curled his fingers into a loose fist. "You''re not human anymore." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ¡°FUCK!¡± Greg pulled his fist back, the sharp jab having sent his friend stumbling backward with a gasp of choked air and a curse from his lips. He held up the offending hand, lazily adjusting the frame of his glasses as he glanced over to see Sparky hunched over now, arms cradling his stomach like a gunshot victim. Such a drama queen. A moment later, he blinked behind his glasses. Oh shit, he is a gunshot victim. Might have to make this up to him at some point. Damn. His friend¡¯s head shot up, eyes wide with shock, a little betrayal and a healthy dose of confusion. ¡°Wh-¡± Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Greg decided to continue the bit, the blond letting out an huff of air that might have been mistaken for a sigh if it wasn¡¯t so loud. Before Sparky could voice his confusion, he interrupted him for the second time in about five seconds, this time with words rather than fists, ¡°Before you say anything, I want you to ask yourself something. ¡®Did that actually hurt or am I just being a giant frickin¡¯ baby?¡¯¡± He lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug, a playful pout on his lips to make it even worse. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was how to push people¡¯s buttons. And Sparky¡¯s? Well, his friend was like an old, worn-out gamepad, and just as predictable. His words, as calculated as the punch, struck home. The look on Sparky''s face was evidence enough. A smirk played at the corners of Greg''s lips. Bingo. Obviously pissed, Sparky straightened up, expression like the Bay during thunderstorm season. ¡°Giant baby?" He shot back, taking an angry step forward, one hand clenched into a fist of his own. "You just fucking hi-¡± The words fell from his lips in a rush, only for the teenager to cut himself off this time, just as suddenly as Greg¡¯s punch had. A pair of golden eyes dropped to his stomach, one hand still cradling the punched area. A low, surprised, ¡°...huh,¡± tumbled out. Greg let out a playful hum, pout shifting into a white-toothed grin. ¡°Giant baby says what now?¡± ¡°Wha¡­¡± The blond watched as Sparky glanced down again, lifting both his black t-shirt and the yellow long-sleeve beneath it. ¡°But I felt that.¡± ¡°Yup,¡± Greg affirmed blithely. Sparky looked up at Greg, still confused. ¡°It knocked me back, though?¡± ¡°Probably did,¡± the other boy remarked with a smack of his lips. ¡°You-I-Wh¡­¡± The olive-skinned teenager let his stutter trail off into a raspy noise of exasperation, head thrown back as he let his shirts drop. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t this hurt?¡± The blond¡¯s grin stayed present as he took another step forward. ¡°Simple. I¡¯m only hitting you about as hard as a regular person could. Like this.¡± With only that sentence as warning, Greg rushed forward again with his fist raised. The world slowed down, the way it always did when he moved this fast, even in short bursts. Slow enough for him to witness Sparky¡¯s golden eyes widen. Slow enough for him to see Sparky¡¯s head inch back. He¡¯s already learning. Greg felt the grin on his face widen to a manic degree, as he took in his friend''s reaction. Never felt so proud. Whatever pride he felt in his heart watching the other boy adapt in real-time didn¡¯t do a thing to stop Greg from blasting him square in the face. But he did feel all warm and fuzzy when he did it, that much was undeniable. Sparky reared back from the blow as time sped up again and Greg stood still as he watched the other boy let out a sudden bellow. It was a shout that was more anger and frustration than actual pain, something the blond knew for a fact. Cradling his nose, the bronze-skinned teenager cradled his face with one hand while pointing an accusing finger at the blond, another shout on his lips. ¡°What the actual fuck is wr-¡± Time to start. Greg raised a single finger as if to shush the other boy. The gesture was followed up by a gust of wind so abrupt it actually did silence Sparky, forcing him to take an actual step back in surprise. ¡°The force exerted by an average human male punch can be placed into the ballpark of roughly three-hundred-and-twenty-five pounds,¡± Greg recited aloud, drawing from something he had read a few weeks ago on one of his nightly patrols. He shifted his finger to adjust his glasses again, this time lowering them down his nose just enough to allow Sparky to see his eyes. ¡°For another average human male, this would cause significant pain and possibly injury, depending on where the hit lands. However¡­¡± He pointed a finger at Sparky, who was still cradling his nose, his expression a jumbled mix of confusion and outrage. the blond grinning as his lesson plan began to play out just like he pictured it. ¡°You¡¯re not human anymore.¡± The words echoed in the silence, Greg¡¯s aerokinetically-enhanced voice bouncing off the warehouse walls, each syllable slamming into Sparky¡¯s brain like a sledgehammer given how he winced. His hand fell away from his nose as the realization sank in, his eyes widening with a sudden understanding. ¡°...oh.¡± ¡°Oh, indeed, young padawan,¡± Greg ignored the knee-jerk grimace that flitted across his friend¡¯s face as he dove right back into his lecture. ¡°You¡¯re not human. Your body is better ¡ª different but better. Bone density, muscle capacity, healing rate, nerve conductivity, pain tolerance... Everything from the cells up, you name it, it''s all been upgraded. You¡¯re running on next-gen hardware, dude. Meaning as long as I don¡¯t hit you too hard, I can-¡± In a rush of motion, he was on Sparky again, his leg snapping out in a controlled calculated kick that to any normal observer, would have been barely more than a blur. His foot made contact with Sparky¡¯s ribs, and just like that, the other teenager reacted in a completely human way - groaning in pain, cradling his side, stumbling backward. ¡°Do that,¡± Greg continued, lowering his leg back to his side. ¡°All day. And you¡¯ll be just frickin¡¯ fine and dandy. No matter how much you act like a pussy, all I¡¯m doing is pretty much pushing you around.¡± Greg watched as Sparky¡¯s eyes narrowed at his words, the other teenager visibly bristling as he clenched his fists, both irritation and embarrassment clear as day on his face. ¡°How do you even know that, huh?¡± He bit back lamely, wearing a frown that even Greg could tell was only there for the sake of pride instead of any real anger. Greg responded with a sigh, drawn out and over-dramatic "Same way I know those arms can bench at least five of you and you can run fast enough to get a ticket in a school zone." He tapped a finger against the frame of his glasses again, the lenses once more reflecting the scant light in the warehouse. "I have really good eyes, dude." Shaking his head, as if he were an exasperated teacher and Sparky his clueless student, Greg carried on, "...but like I said, lesson one: You¡¯re-¡± Without giving Sparky a chance to process his words, Greg blurred into action, the world around him dulling like an old photograph as he dashed forward. The back of his fist connected with Sparky¡¯s mouth, the unexpected blow sending a spray of spit arching through the air and his friend¡¯s head snapping back. ¡°-Not-¡± The second word was followed with another punch, this time to the gut. A gruff groan tore from Sparky¡¯s throat as he instinctively doubled over. ¡°-Human!¡± Greg¡¯s foot moved like a comet, a swift arc that hooked behind Sparky¡¯s ankle, upending Sparky and sending him sprawling onto the cold, concrete floor. Time slid back to normal, a slight hint of color returning to the world as Greg stopped his assault, gaze shifting to where Sparky lay, panting and staring at the ceiling. "So, don¡¯t fight like one,¡± he finished, punctuating his sentence with a click of his tongue. A smirk played on his lips as he watched Sparky sit up, the boy''s tan body moving fluidly despite the one-sided spar they''d just had. Man, is that what I look like when I move? the blond thought to himself, an eyebrow raised behind his glasses. So cool. Apart from the way he moved, Greg also couldn¡¯t help but notice that Sparky didn¡¯t look so shocked anymore, resolute expression telling Greg that his friend was finally getting the hang of things. "Alright." "Alright?" Greg tossed back the word playfully. ¡°Alright,¡± Sparky repeated again, a determined glint in his golden eyes. He sprung up, feet spread apart and hands guarding his face ¨C a simple boxer¡¯s pose. ¡°I¡¯m ready, teach. Show me how capes kick ass.¡± Greg couldn¡¯t help but laugh again. That¡¯s more like it. He clapped his hands loudly, the echo bouncing around the vacant warehouse like a gunshot. ¡°Good to see you taking your education seriously. But before we start, you know what day it is?¡± Sparky looked puzzled, one eyebrow raised. ¡°Uhhh¡­ May 15th?¡± ¡°Nah.¡± With a simple shake of his head and a grin that was more predator than pal, Greg corrected him. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be the worst Sunday of your life. Lesson Two.¡± With a casual flip of his hand upwards, a quick flash of pixel-like blue light gathered into a red rubber ball resting on his palm. "DODGE !" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg-Sensei¡¯s 10 Lessons to Your New Life
  1. You¡¯re Not Human
  2. DODGE
  3. Move Fast
  4. Strike Hard
  5. But Not Too Hard
  6. Pretend to Be Weak
  7. Everyone has Weak Points
  8. Be Unpredictable
  9. Use Your Words
  10. RUN
Lag 6.18a: Strike Hard Lag 6.18a: Strike Hard ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C If you¡¯d ever told Greg Veder he¡¯d one day be stripping down to his skin for the benefit of his friend¡¯s personal development, he¡¯d have likely rolled his eyes and blown you off with a self-deprecating joke. But here he was, discarding his clothes like bad jokes at a comedy show, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched the confusion dance across Sparky¡¯s face. A moment ago, they¡¯d concluded the previous lesson. Sparky, all out of breath, was still gasping like a fish out of water. All things considered, it was understandable. For the past half hour, Sparky had been doing a one-man circus show, all twists and turns, trying to land a punch on Greg. Lesson three had essentially been a crash course in speed and agility, but for Greg, it was a devious amusement park where he could taunt his friend with an army of flying dodgeballs. And let¡¯s face it, he¡¯d had an absolute blast. That session had quickly evolved into a hardcore game of tag. The rules were simple. Sparky was "it" and had to tag Greg within the confines of the warehouse. Despite the former¡¯s best efforts, he hadn¡¯t come close to laying a finger on Greg. The blonde boy was like a shadow that danced just out of reach, a ghost that defied Sparky¡¯s every attempt to touch. Speed was one thing, sure. But even when equalized, agility and experience were the real challenge. Greg moved with an uncanny ease that bordered on natural instinct. Compared to his acrobatic aptitude, Sparky was a little tiny baby learning to crawl. After an intense training session of being on the receiving end, it was time for Sparky to dish it out, to release pent up frustration and give Greg a taste of his own medicine. A mild chuckle escaped Greg as he tossed away his tracksuit jacket, white under-shirt, and glasses. With a blink, he manipulated the digital blue energy at his command, causing the discarded clothes to pixelate and disappear. Standing in the stark openness of the warehouse, a cocky grin on his face, he threw his arms open and made his bold declaration. "Hit me," he called out, the command echoing off the empty walls. Sparky looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Wh-what?" Greg laughed, a low sound that echoed through the cavernous space. "Lesson Four: Strike Hard," he clarified, the smirk never leaving his face. "Consider me your personal punching bag. You get to hit me as hard as you want. Get all your grievances out. Hit me as hard as you can for as long as you want to. Let loose, sparkplug." To Greg''s slight surprise, Sparky nodded quickly, a smile that sang with anticipation clear on his face. "Sure, wouldn''t be the first time you''ve asked me to beat the shit out of you." Greg let out a barking laugh, the sound echoing off the cold, hard walls. He recalled the times he¡¯d asked Sparky to aid in resistance training, the memories vivid in his mind. It had been oddly enjoyable, despite the painful circumstances. Greg was mid-thought when a faint sensation tickled the base of his neck. A pulse of danger. The thought process came to a halt as Sparky¡¯s knee was introduced to Greg¡¯s face. Staggering backward, Greg fought to regain his balance. Sparky had begun suddenly, without warning. Although, I guess I usually do the same, he reflected, shaking off the momentary disorientation. No sooner had he steadied himself than another pulse surged. Sparky''s fist hooked into his jaw with a surprising force. The momentum carried through as another punch caught him off guard, causing his face to swing the opposite way barely a moment later. Hand rising to rub his jaw, Greg felt a faint dull throbbing in his face, the familiar ring of pain clear as day. Wow, did that actually hur- Without missing a beat, Sparky plunged into a storm of strikes. His fists hammered against Greg''s skin like hammers, each punch carrying a weight that surprised even Greg, despite his durability. Rapid jabs connected with his ribs, imprecise and sloppy, but hard and heavy, all the same. The hits were more surprising for how much anger was in them than the actual pain itself, that fading rather quickly. They were bad enough but then came the kicks, high and low, aimed at his gut, his chest, his thighs. Each boot-fuelled strike was a resounding thud, a shockwave that radiated through his body, threatening to knock him over. But Greg held his ground, arms spread out in open defiance, urging Sparky on. This was no game of dodgeballs or tag. This was raw, brutal, and apparently more necessary than he thought. He can¡¯t keep this going for too long, anyway. As the minutes stretched on, Sparky didn''t let up. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. He transitioned from fists and feet to elbows and knees, using every part of his limbs as weapons. The sharp stinging of elbows and knees slamming into his body nearly had Greg gasping, his teeth gritting at the sudden spikes of pain. Still, he willed himself to stay upright, to take it. This isn¡¯t that bad, actually. Kinda like a very angry massage, he tried to joke to himself. Even still, the thought rang rather hollow when he saw the look on his friend¡¯s face, empty and furious. Ten minutes in, Sparky''s stormy eyes were drawn to a pair of discarded iron pipes lying nearby. He sprinted towards them, his footfalls echoing throughout the warehouse, then dashed back, face set in a grim line. The first swing with the pipe was a surprise. It collided against his ribs, a stark contrast from the feel of Sparky''s bare knuckles. It was cold, merciless, and jarring. The shock of the impact rippled through him, his body jerking back from the force. Greg could almost hear his skin protesting under the harsh onslaught, a numb hum beginning to resonate at the impact site. The pipes were¡­ different. They hurt, sure. But Greg had dealt with worse. This wasn¡¯t even all that bad. If anything, it was a familiar pain. It reminded him of when all this was new, when everything was still more fun and exciting, instead of chaos and carnage. Sure, there was blood, but most of it was his, and he¡¯d be fine in no time. Now, though? Now, there was a lot more and he didn¡¯t know how to feel when it wasn¡¯t his over everything around him. The subsequent strikes were no less brutal. The pipes were wielded like bludgeons, a hailstorm of metallic fury. More than that, each blow felt like an unspoken statement, saying, "Take that, and that, and that." The pipes connected with Greg''s body in a constant, staccato rhythm, each blow strong enough to cave in a man¡¯s skull five times over and full of a silent rage and frustration that the blond hadn¡¯t realized his friend was holding back. Greg''s body began to respond to the relentless attack. Despite his superior physiology, he wasn''t entirely immune to the effects. The impacts grew more painful, more intense, the rhythmic pounding beginning to leave its mark. A bead of blood, bright red against his pale skin, trickled down from his chest, evidence of the brutal punishment he was undergoing. As the iron pipes continued to crash against his skin, Greg realized that he was bleeding from multiple points. A cut opened on his cheek as a pipe smashed into his face, a small river of blood tracing its way down his jawline. His chest, where the pipes had hit him the most, were painted a glossy red. He was a canvas of pain and blood, a messy art piece. Despite the steadily increasing pain, Greg didn''t back down. His posture remained unyielding, his arms still spread out, inviting Sparky to continue. Blood continued to seep out, the metallic scent mixing with the cold, musty air of the warehouse. The deafening clash of metal against skin continued to fill the air, every strike with the pipes a raw display of his friend¡¯s frustration, a storm of violence that seemed to come from nowhere. But eventually, the storm did end. Sparky''s powerful swings gradually slowed, his strength just as potent but his motivation clearly fading like the anger on his face. The blood-stained and utterly broken pipes fell from his hands, hitting the concrete with a loud clatter. The resulting silence felt just as loud as the pipes had been against his skin, Greg couldn¡¯t help but notice. With all the fury spent from his system, Sparky collapsed onto the cold, hard floor of the warehouse. Greg watched this, his eyes oddly piercing in the dim lighting. It''s not easy being the punching bag, he thought with a sad smile. Sparky was drained, emotionally if not physically, and it was obvious to his friend. ¡°You done?¡± Greg had faced a lot in the last couple months, from violent gang members to a literal dragon-man, but he couldn¡¯t deny that this left him feeling even more out of his element than those could manage. His body was a canvas of red, the aftermath of a one-sided brawl with no wounds to show for it. Greg kept his eyes forward as he watched a whole set of emotions play out on his friend¡¯s face. It took far longer than it should have for such a simple question but eventually, Sparky looked back at him with vaguely empty ¡ª almost vacant ¡ª eyes before he quietly nodded. The warehouse seemed to brighten somewhat as the boy in yellow slumped forward slightly, shoulders hunched. Greg blinked, his eyes roaming from Sparky''s spent form to the rivulets of blood staining his own body. Each crimson droplet punctuated the silence as it fell, a steady drip-drip that should''ve had him reeling. But it didn¡¯t. Not anymore. Not from blood loss or simple squeamishness. Despite the sheer amount of the stuff smeared across his skin, it didn''t really faze him. It hadn¡¯t for a long while. It should have been worrying how apathetic he was to the sight of his own blood, simply accepting the sight of it outside of where it belonged, no matter how much of it there seemed to be. Despite how okay with it he was, cleanliness still meant something though. After all, he wasn¡¯t all too keen on being a walking, talking Pollock painting. His hand vanishing into an odd azure rift that splintered open as soon as he thought the magic word, the thing visible from his vantage point, Greg pulled out a packet of moist towelettes, the dull packaging briefly aglow with the cobalt luminescence of his power. Without a word, he began his cleanup. Each towelette glided over his skin, taking with it dried rivulets of blood. With each swipe, more and more crimson evidence vanished, leaving mostly bare skin behind. Eventually he was clean - or as clean as he could get without a proper shower - and Greg strode over to Sparky, his friend still sitting on the floor. His hand extended out, offering the other boy the opened packet to use. "Wet Wipe?" His voice was light, a deliberate contrast to the heaviness that lingered in the air. Sparky seemed to be lost in thought, but Greg''s voice snapped him back to reality. He blinked up at him, and with a murmured "Thanks, brah," he accepted the wipe. Watching him clean up, Greg could only wonder how much of Sparky''s past frustration had been vented on him today. When Sparky was finally clean, Greg took it upon himself to reach into his Inventory again. This time he summoned a box of juice boxes and a container of frosted sugar cookies, the items falling into both of his hands. Given what just happened, the items seemed almost laughable, more of a joke on their own than anything else, but Greg thought they were fitting. He held them out towards Sparky. "How about we have a half-hour snack break?" Exhausted eyes glanced up again as Sparky gave a tired nod, and the two sat down side by side to snack. A silence stretched between them, the length punctuated only by the sounds of biting into soft cookies and slurping juice boxes.. It wasn¡¯t exactly an uncomfortable quiet, but it certainly went on for much longer than Greg felt at all comfortable with. Eventually, he had to say something, and despite his better judgment, he did. ¡°So, Sparks¡­¡± He let the words linger, an incomplete sentence echoing in the warehouse until Sparky turned his head slowly to face him. ¡°Mmmhmm?¡± Sparky responded, his focus divided between Greg and his fifth sugar cookie. ¡°You¡­ uhhh, you wanna talk about it?¡± "Talk about what?" "...cool.¡± Lag 6.18b: But Not Too Hard Lag 6.18b: But Not Too Hard ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? ¡°You¡¯re strong, Sparks. Strong, fast and tough,¡± Greg began, his posture an open book of lazy confidence, hands thrown back behind his head in a way that could have been interpreted as cocky - if you were inclined to read into things like that. With an offbeat rhythm, he began to tap his foot on the cold, unforgiving concrete floor, sending a tattoo of echoes reverberating around the cavernous expanse of the dimly lit warehouse. Jeez, this place could use some uplighting. His face was a solid mask of inexpressiveness right now, eyes hidden by his nerd glasses and a mouth that lay in a straight, flat line, the sort of line a frustrated artist might draw and then erase in favor of something more dynamic. Need to get Glennn on that. Maybe some LED¡¯s or something. Make this a cool lair, instead of just¡­ this. Behind that line and the glinting lenses of his glasses, his mind was a whirlwind of algorithms and potential paths of action, all cataloged and ready to be deployed at a moment¡¯s notice. ¡°I mean, let¡¯s be honest, you''re not exactly a prime example of peak physical performance, at least when compared to, oh, I don''t know... little ol¡¯ meeeee,¡± he drawled, cocking his head to the side in a way that came off as mockingly cutesy. His nonchalant tone didn¡¯t falter in the slightest, even as Sparky rolled his eyes dismissively. The hot-blooded air of the last lesson still hung fresh in the atmosphere over thirty minutes later, but both of them had wordlessly chosen not to address it, leaving it unacknowledged for now. They¡¯d deal with it¡­ later? Later. ¡°But you know, pretty solidly not bad all around,¡± Greg nodded to himself. Sparky sucked his teeth dismissively, shooting Greg a tired look as if to say ¡®get on with it¡¯. ¡°You¡¯re alright, I guess. Not bad, really,¡± Greg said, letting his arms drop loosely at his sides as he shook his head. ¡°And that¡¯s kind of the problem. Your not bad is a regular guy¡¯s ¡®oh my god, that¡¯s a fucking monster¡¯. You could turn a mob of mooks into hamburger on your own and that¡¯s if you¡¯re trying not to kill them the way you are now. Hell, you¡¯d probably screw up and send more than half of them six feet under in the process.¡± Sparky opened his mouth, head already moving side to side in a clear prelude to arguing against Greg¡¯s words. A single raised hand from the blond kept him quiet. ¡°Don¡¯t even. Trust me, you can deliver at least five times as much force with just as much effort as the regular guy with almost any hit. That¡¯s¡­ well, that¡¯s kinda deadly, okay?¡± His mouth twisted, the grin that had been dancing on the edges of his lips quickly morphing into a frown of introspection.I ¡¯ve already let him use me as a punching bag, let him go all out. He can definitely throw punches, the force behind those fists is a lot, but. He¡¯s got sledgehammers in those fists and that¡¯s saying something. Thing is, if he gets used to going full force¡­ he¡¯s gonna have to get used to dealing with a manslaughter charge. Dude¡¯s got serious anger issues under all that chill. He¡¯ll actually kill someone and pretty easily too. He¡¯s not really gonna be fighting Brutes if he fights anyone. Probably just regular dudes with guns or bats or something. Need to teach him where to hit but also that hitting hard is bad. Greg studied Sparky, his eyes tracing the bronze contours of the teen''s face.The bronze-skinned teenager narrowed his own eyes, expression clearly reading confusion at where Greg seemed to be going with all of this. The silence hung heavy between them, tension building with every second. After nearly a half-minute¡¯s silence, Sparky¡¯s barely restrained frustration splashed over the side of his patience. He folded his arms over his chest in a clear challenge, the curiosity in his eyes laced with a kind of "are-we-there-yet" impatience. ¡°... So, yeah, I¡¯m strong. We knew this. What¡¯s your point?¡± Greg inclined his head in a slow, contemplative nod, his gaze catching and holding Sparky¡¯s challenging stare. His hands flexed at his sides, the knuckles popping like firecrackers in the quiet warehouse. Okay, game on, Sparks. Brace yourself. He stretched out, rolling his neck and stretching out his hands like a concert pianist preparing for a symphony. ¡°Get in position,¡± Greg commanded, the command ringing out loud. ¡°I¡¯m gonna show you where to hit, and why hitting too hard is a no-no.¡± A savage grin crept onto Greg''s face as he took in Sparky''s hesitance, the boy''s face a study in wary anticipation. Sparky was still trying to find his footing, frame taut as he tried to prepare for the next onslaught. Come on, Sparkplug. Let¡¯s speedrun through this one. No pain, no gain. ¡°Lesson Five; But Not Too Hard.¡± With the surprise of a pouncing tiger, Greg lunged at Sparky, his movements fluid and controlled. Despite the stark display of power, he was careful to limit his strength, restraining the natural inclination of his muscles to bring about a level of devastation that could be construed as overkill. But with speed, he allowed himself a little bit of indulgence, turning into a blur of quicksilver motion that was not so fast that it left Sparky unable to keep track of him. Precision, not power. Speed, not strength. He was even kind enough to announce his strikes, every body part he targeted turned into a painful, impromptu biology lesson. Each punch, each jab, each blow, a painful chapter in the subject. "Nose," he announced, his jab quick and calculated as it connected with Sparky''s face. The punch landed with a satisfying thud, making Sparky''s head snap back, his golden eyes watering. "Super sensitive, tends to bleed, and snaps like a dry twig." Sparky, his eyes squinting through the shock of pain and the sheen of unshed tears, didn''t have time to respond before Greg was on him again. This time, his hand shot up, his fingers rigid as they delivered a harsh chop right to the center of Sparky''s upper lip. "Philtrum. Bundle of nerves. Doesn''t feel too good, does it? Next up is¡­" His eyes shifted, slow enough that even the disoriented Sparky was able to notice. The teenager¡¯s own eyes widened as he tried to dodge, but it was too late. In an almost lazy move, Greg spun on his heels, catching Sparky with a powerful slap to his left ear. "Ears," he taunted, watching the boy wobble on his feet in a way that let Greg knew his head was buzzing like an overworked beehive, equilibrium shot as he reeled and tried to keep himself upright. "Disorients you, knocks you off balance. Easy way to put a person down. Most people don''t need much. Just one good hit," he added, a twisted smile tugging at his lips. And then, before Sparky could fully regain his bearings, Greg was on the offensive again, his next word punctuated by a single ruthless strike. "Throat," he stated with a casualness that was at odds with the suddenness of the motion. His hand flew forward, striking Sparky''s windpipe. The darker-skinned boy recoiled, choking, his hands instinctively reaching up to protect his throat. "Slightest hit to the throat stuns anyone. Painful as all heck and people immediately hold their throat when it''s hit, letting you get all sorts of hits in. Like to the..." Greg sidestepped a blind, furious lunge from Sparky, the other boy desperately fighting through the pain to regain his footing as he attempted a tackle. In a whirlwind of movement, Greg didn¡¯t let his momentum go to waste as he spun around to deliver a swift kick to the-. "Knee," he stated with a chuckle as Sparky stumbled from the blow and went flying. "Knees are a joint. Joints can be dislocated. Just a little pain, and any fight''s over." His body hit the concrete floor of the warehouse with a hard grunt, but he didn¡¯t stay down for long. With a growl that brought a smile to Greg¡¯s face, the teen burst to his feet in an instant with a powerful handspring, landing on his feet with tense muscles and gritted teeth. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He charged forward, fast. The blond was faster, though. "Temples," Greg''s voice carried like a teacher¡¯s in a class, if a teacher could make ¡°2+2¡± sound like a veiled threat. Shifting into a literal blur of motion, his hands moved with the speed of a striking snake, fingers curled into an on-the-spot invention of a new martial arts technique, delivering twin strikes on either side of Sparky''s forehead, each blow carrying just enough force to get his point across. The impact felt like tiny hammers pounding against Sparky''s skull, each strike echoed, reverberating with a dull, throbbing pain that twisted his face into a grimace. Even so, Greg didn''t pause. "Base of the skull," he announced again, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His lightning-quick hands targeted the back of Sparky''s head. As the strike landed, Sparky''s knees buckled momentarily, his balance disrupted, and he stumbled forward, eyes wide from the unexpected blow. Greg was already moving on, his voice smug as he said, "Jaw." His deft fingers jabbed Sparky''s jaw from beneath, a point so vulnerable that the sharp sting raced up to his face, forcing his mouth to clamp shut with an audible click of his teeth. Greg continued the dance, his hand sliding to Sparky''s throat, fingers tracing the delicate skin there, and he said, "Side of the neck", delivering a tickling threat rather than a pointed jab. "Are you finished yet?" Sparky interrupted, his words sharp with feigned disinterest. His hands darted forward in that moment, seeking an opening, his fingers striking towards Greg''s exposed midsection. But Greg merely chuckled, sidestepping the blow with a grace that seemed effortless, making Sparky''s attack swat only air. "Just getting started," Greg replied with a wry grin, before tapping the tender flesh behind Sparky''s ear, causing the other boy to flinch. Sparky growled, a low rumble in his chest, "I don''t nee¡ª" But his words were cut off as Greg shut him up with another jab to the throat. The strike was delivered with just enough force to make his voice hitch and the other boy¡¯s words dissolve into an uncomfortable cough. "Trust me, you do," Greg responded, his voice echoing around the vastness of the warehouse as he continued the brutal lesson, striking Sparky''s shoulder with a flick of his wrist. "Clavicle," Greg tapped his knuckle against the curve of Sparky''s shoulder even harder a second time, the point where bone met flesh, pulling back as the boy let a pained hiss slip from his mouth. A small bit of pain for a spot that could have ¡ª and had ¡ª brought a grown man to tears and to his knees with the right amount of force. "Ribs," His fingers prodded at Sparky''s chest, not hard enough to break anything, but a stern reminder nonetheless. "Bladder," his tap was lower this time, aimed for the center of Sparky''s lower torso. Sparky winced, pulling back, but Greg was unyielding, only giving him a second before he continued his ''demonstration''. "Shins," He moved lower, delivering a sting to Sparky''s exposed bone with a swift kick that made Sparky suck in a sharp breath. As Greg moved lower, striking Sparky''s shin with his foot a second time, Sparky attempted a roundhouse kick in return. It was a move of beautiful desperation, his body twisting and foot arcing high. But like before, Greg was already a step ahead, dodging with a step back and a mocking shake of his head. "Thigh Nerve," Greg''s fingers burrowed into the meat of Sparky''s thigh, pinpointing the hidden pressure point with unerring accuracy. As Greg''s fingers found the pressure point on Sparky''s thigh, Sparky let out a hiss. "Fuck y¡ª" his fist rocketed towards Greg''s face. But Greg deflected it effortlessly, swiping Sparky''s hand aside like an annoying fly. "Kidneys. Spine. Tailbone." Greg¡¯s fingers moved to Sparky''s back, tapping a path down his spine, each touch precise and firm, illustrating just how many points of vulnerability a body held. His fingers continued their dance on Sparky''s back, tracing a path of potential pain until¡ª "Achilles Tendon," He finished, bending down to tap the back of Sparky''s ankle, the touch just enough to make the other boy shift his weight uneasily. ¡°Goddda¡ª!¡± Sparky tried to shove him back, his palm pushing towards Greg''s chest. But with his balance off, he lacked both the speed and force. Greg evaded with a smirk, and Sparky''s hand found only empty air. ¡°And finally¡­¡± Greg''s hand hovered over Sparky''s torso, the air between them charged with anticipation. Then, like a viper, he struck a brutal punch contained in a span of barely an inch. "Solar Plexus." His last strike sent Sparky flying, the boy sprawling down to the floor once more, leaving him winded and sprawled out beneath Greg. He looked up, dazed and panting, the ceiling above him spinning. ¡°...ow. What the fuck was that?¡± With a satisfied smirk, Greg stepped forward, looking down at Sparky. "Apparently, it''s called Jeet Kun Do. I picked it up from a book, but honestly, I think I was getting it down on my own already. Either way, it''s just the way I learned to fight without my swords." Dropping down to a crouch, he reached out his hand to Sparky, using the other to adjust his glasses with a quick flick as they slid down his nose. "Get up, sparkplug. We¡¯ve got a city to save." Sparky stared up at Greg, his breath coming in slightly heavy pants, but nothing more than a light sheen of moisture on his forehead was there to show that he was at all winded. More importantly, his golden eyes blazed with understanding. Greg, for his part, kept his grin in place as Sparky took his hand and he pulled his friend back up to his feet. "These, Sparks, are where you aim if you want to put someone down without killing them. A smart hit¡¯s better than a wild swing. Remember that.¡± This time, Sparky didn¡¯t interrupt. He simply stared back at Greg, jaw clenched tightly, eyes glinting with something like¡­ respect? He was quiet for a moment, a long, heavy pause as he seemed to take a moment to digest the information, until he finally nodded. Smart and a good listener, the blond¡¯s smile widened. Good for him. ¡°Let''s go again,¡± Greg ordered, stepping back to give Sparky room. ¡°And this time, I¡¯ll slow down to no better than a regular dude. You get to hit back and remember, no wild punches. Controlled and precise. You hit too hard, I¡¯ll knock you on your ass. Got it?¡± Sparky rolled his shoulders, his jaw set with determination. His hand flew forward, striking at Greg¡¯s face with a careful amount of force. Greg ducked out of the way with a bit more effort than normal, quickly reversing on his heels with his eyes firmly on his sparring partner, eagerness dancing in his eyes. The fight turned into something like a dance, the two boys moving around each other, each punch, each jab, each blow carefully measured and controlled. Their movements filled the empty warehouse with a rhythm, a symphony of motion and action. It was a step in the right direction. There was something undeniably satisfying about watching the other boy learn, watching the knowledge click into place as if he was finally getting it. Man, teaching is kinda fun. Greg thought, blocking a jab aimed at his clavicle. The smirk never left his face. ¡°So, no more sledgehammer punches? You promise?¡± Greg drawled, keeping his tone light and teasing, even as he narrowly avoided a blow aimed at his nose. ¡°Yeah,¡± Sparky gritted out through clenched teeth, his face hard with focus. ¡°Yeah, I get it. I promise.¡± "Good boy," Greg shot back, swatting away a hand that aimed for his ribs. "There''s hope for you yet, Sparks." The training continued, the rhythm never breaking. It was a start, a small step towards a larger goal. But as Greg bobbed and weaved, a satisfied smile curled around the corners of his mouth. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was making a difference. Baby steps, sure. But steps nonetheless. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit, Sparks!¡± Greg grinned, patting Sparky on the shoulder. ¡°Now let¡¯s go over all those pressure points again, ¡®cause I bet my left kidney you can¡¯t remember where half of them are.¡± Cutscene: Introspections II Cutscene: Introspections II ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The world spun around Theo as he sat awkwardly at a lavishly set table in the middle of a gala. As usual, he felt like he was on an alien planet, one brimming with a constant rush of activity that left him feeling dizzy and out of place. Directly across the polished mahogany table sat his father, the illustrious Maximillian Karl Anders, caught up in the adoration of some random rich socialite, this time a female city councilman who was probably looking for something a bit more personal than political. Her voice, full of polished flattery and the clinking of crystal glasses, only served to amplify Theo''s irritation. His father, sat across from him, an imposing figure. In a perfectly tailored charcoal gray suit, his golden hair slicked back, and a charming smile plastered on his face, Max Anders was the epitome of poise and aristocracy. His overwhelming presence cast a shadow that Theo could never escape, a shadow that only deepened under the glittering chandeliers. Beside him, sat the twins, Nessa and Jessica, picking idly at their gourmet salads and engaging in a frivolous banter that had become their trademark. Their radiant beauty was enhanced by the glistening white and gold dresses they wore, which seemed to twinkle with every shift in their postures. Nessa had her hair up in a braided crown, while Jessica had hers down in a long fishtail braid - the usual reversal of the styles they wore when out in uniform. He''d often wondered about their peculiar choice of hairstyles - was it an attempt at being smart or just a pointless quirk? It''s probably both, Theo thought, trying not to roll his eyes. He wasn¡¯t very forgiving of the two, but he couldn¡¯t help it. Despite looking so much like his mother ¡ª albeit younger ¡ª the two of them always seemed to represent everything he hoped his mother would never be. Granted, he wasn¡¯t very forgiving to anyone in his family for that matter. Speaking of his family, while they all looked picture perfect, there was Theo himself - a misfit in a baby blue suit that dug uncomfortably into his midsection. While his was supposedly tailored to perfection, by the same hand that handled his father''s own, it was the difference in their forms that was a painful reminder of his constant chubbiness. A pinch at his torso and stomach from a slightly-too-tight shirt and jacket was without a doubt a purposeful choice from his father, something to make him think. After all, his father¡¯s frosty words still echoed in his head, It doesn¡¯t reflect well on the Anders family if the only son and heir looks like he has no self-control. Yeah, well I''m not you, am I? He retorted silently. The only evidence of his bitter thoughts was the slight clenching of his fists under the table. Despite sharing the same blond hair and gray eyes, Theo always felt like a penguin in a flock of flamingos. His glasses did little to hide his chubby cheeks and the discomfort written across his face. His parents, even in their youthful photos, seemed to glide with effortless grace, a stark contrast to his own clumsy demeanor. With a quiet sigh, Theo shook his head, chasing away the unpleasant memories. His eyes dropped to his empty plate, the remains of a chicken breast and a meager helping of steamed vegetables stared back at him. His stomach protested, a faint growl lost in the symphony of clinking cutlery and muffled conversations. As if sensing his need, his gaze found a server weaving through the crowd. However, before he could signal with a raised finger, his father''s piercing grey gaze bore into him, freezing him in place. He deflated, his shoulders drooping subtly. Not even a single second to myself, he thought, keeping his expression neutral. His eyes wandered, taking in the grandeur of the gala. The twenty-sixth floor of the Forsberg Gallery had been transformed into a sparkling winter wonderland. White cloth draped the walls, their ethereal glow intensified by the bright chandeliers. What was initially planned as a fundraiser for the Mayor''s re-election campaign had been transformed by MedHall into a grand event for the city''s revitalization. Well, for the wealthier parts, at least. Theo thought cynically. The parts Bakuda¡¯s bombing spree hadn¡¯t reduced to rubble. For the rest? Who cares, right? The entire event was a spectacle put up for the elite, a stark reminder of what he was expected to be. Despite the veneer of elegance and luxury, the gala felt hollow, a mere facade for the world to see. Theo was just a part of this spectacle, his discomfort an inconsequential detail lost in the glitz of it all. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "Isn''t this just darling, Theo?" Jessica cooed, her voice pulling him out of his reverie. He offered her a noncommittal hum in response, his gaze locked onto the intricate patterns of the barely-eaten dessert that he knew his father had only touched to be polite. "D''you see the Mayor''s wife, Jess?" Nessa nudged her sister, her grey eyes glinting with mischief. Jessica followed her sister''s gaze, a delicate hand stifling a giggle as she observed the woman in question. "Oh, honey," Jessica drawled, "that dress is a disaster. Poor thing, she looks like she''s wearing a curtain." The girls erupted in a shared fit of laughter, their clear, bright voices ringing through the ambient noise. Theo, however, remained detached, his gaze lost somewhere beyond the chandelier''s glittering prisms. He heard their words, their laughter, but it all seemed to blend into the grand symphony of the gala. "Theo, don''t you think?" Nessa turned towards him, her voice laced with sweetness as she sought to pull him into their gossip. It was an unspoken command, a game they loved to play ¡ª a puppet show, and Theo was as usual their reluctant marionette. "I...uh, I guess?" He responded with a slow drawl, his eyes momentarily flicking towards the Mayor''s wife before returning to his untouched dessert. Jessica let out a high-pitched giggle, her gloved hand lightly touching his shoulder. "Oh Theo, you''re such a bore sometimes," she declared, her words sounding so bubbly and ditzy Theo felt like throwing up. "You don''t have to pretend to be interested." "I''m not pretending," Theo mumbled under his breath, his gaze fixed intently on his plate. His stomach twisted as they laughed again, a bitter taste creeping up his throat. "Hey, look there," Nessa whispered, pointing at a tall man draped in a suit that was more costume than formalwear. Square-jawed and handsome, he flashed a moviestar-worthy smile as he chatted and laughed. "Isn''t he the guy from that new TV show - the one about the cape bodyguard?" "Yep, that''s him," Jessica nodded, her eyes sparkling with delight. "Oh, the things I could do if I were on a date with him." This banter was like their own secret language, a constant barrage of jokes and half-whispered comments that Theo could hardly keep up with. He sat there, surrounded by their laughter and the constant hum of the gala, a bystander in his own life. "Right, Theo?" Jessica asked, trying once more to pull him into their conversation. "I wouldn''t know," Theo replied, the words slipping out almost automatically. He offered them a strained smile, one that didn''t reach his eyes. ¡°Goodbye, councilman.¡± Maximillian Anders'' conversation with the politician came to a close as Max delivered a swift, practiced wave of dismissal. The politician, satisfied and star-struck, departed with a pleased smile. Theo watched as his father turned his attention back to their table, the lines of his face shifting into a calculated neutral. An approaching security guard ¡ª the familiar silver MedHall crown gleaming on his uniform ¡ª offered a quiet piece of news into Max''s ear. The news was met with a subtle smile tugging at the corners of Max''s mouth, a predatory glint in his steel grey eyes that made Theo''s stomach knot. His father could be a sight to behold when he was happy, but that delight always came with strings attached ¡ª puppet strings, Theo often thought, that made them all dance to his rhythm. With a commanding presence, Max rose from his seat, his gaze flickering between Nessa and Jessica. "Stay here," he instructed them, the tone of his voice non-negotiable. Their faces fell slightly at his words, a blend of disappointment and silent protest. "But, Maxy¡ª" "Why¡ª" Two voices, one question. Max cut them off with a single glance, a silent reminder of their roles tonight. As for Theo, he didn''t utter a word of protest, didn''t ask for an explanation. Instead, he simply met his father''s eyes with a stoic gaze, a slight nod of his head affirming his compliance. With a final, decisive gesture, Max pointed to an empty table three placements over. "You''ll sit there," he declared, his voice resonating with the authority he wielded. He paused, a knowing smile spreading across his features. "It''s been quite a while since you''ve met your godbrother, hasn''t it, Theodor?" The mention caught Theo off-guard, his eyebrows raising slightly. Greg''s here? He thought, a rush of confusion and a spark of relief washing over him. Greg was unlike the rest of their family; just as much of a ball of nerves as he was, if a good bit louder and less restrained. Maybe he wouldn''t feel so alone tonight. As Max walked away, presumably to fetch their new guests, Theo was left to his own thoughts. He preferred it that way. Lag 6.19a Lag 6.19a ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C 8:15 PM EST May 15th Downton, Brockton Bay Susan Veder couldn¡¯t remember the last time she had a night out like this. Has it been three years? She felt a frown form on her face at the self-directed question, unable to actually answer it definitively. Maybe four, if she was being honest. Back then, nights like these had been a fog of glittering parties, champagne-fueled chatter, and the constant swirl of her ex-husband¡¯s eccentricities. The last part, especially, had left its mark on her memory. The last year of her marriage had been... hazy, to say the least. A good amount of alcohol had been involved, really. Regardless of exactly how long it had actually been, it had been quite a long time since she¡¯d attended an event at all, let alone one as big as this. A gala. A swirl of celebrities, wealth, and fancy clothes that seemed to have no end. A night where even the valets were as pristine as the cars they parked, a detail she had completely let slip her mind until a few minutes ago. Just one of a small mountain of important details about events like these had slipped through the cracks in her memory. God, Suzy, you¡¯re such an idiot! Idiot! Valets were a given for things like this, she should have remembered that. How did a simple concept like that slip her mind? She hadn¡¯t even given it an ounce of thought until she had already pulled up to the event to see those same valets pulling away with Mercedes and Bentleys from those who had pulled up to the red carpeted entrance. And her with her simple hatchback ¡ª a humble candy blue Nova Pulse. She was lucky Greg had seemed occupied with his phone, because otherwise, she¡¯d have to explain why the red on her face was visible from a distance, she was sure of it. I can¡¯t drive up there with this basic mom car, she groaned to herself as she fought the urge to introduce her forehead to the steering wheel, feeling like a stupid teenager lost in a world she had long left behind, I¡¯d be a complete joke. So, she didn¡¯t. Maneuvering around the block for a few good minutes until she found a suitable garage, Susan parked her car and began making her way down the street. The high-rise buildings of the city cast long shadows in the waning daylight as she and her son, her dear, confusing, bewildering son, walked down the street, the gallery''s hulking, crystalline form standing tall in the distance. Heading towards the gallery with her son on her arm had felt like being transported back in time more than anything else. The Forsberg Gallery, a towering asymmetrical art-piece of a structure in the distance loomed ahead, a twenty-six story architectural marvel surrounded by the bland buildings of Brockton Bay. From a distance, she could see photographers'' flashes slicing the dark like miniature lightning, their cameras visible even under the massive flood lights that framed the gallery itself, the collective murmur of the crowd a dull roar, growing louder with each step they took¡­ This was the sort of nostalgia that was entirely uninvited and still managed to overstay its welcome ¡ª the kind that gnawed at her heart and left a bitter aftertaste. Striding past the initial set of velvet ropes arm-in-arm with her son and still nearly half a block away from the red carpet proper, Susan Veder felt herself recalling her past, the wandering paths that had led her where she was. From a frightened, depressed, near-suicidal teenager to an unexpected mother, and then suddenly a wife in a rushed marriage, it had been nothing but a whirlwind of events. Life happened so quickly, and she was always playing catch-up. Any potential dreams she might have had for herself died early under the fog of her depression, thickened by the sudden death of both her parents. Then, like a streak of sunlight piercing through the dense fog, he appeared. Him. Her Prince Charming. Her knight in shining armor, complete with blond hair, muscles and a stunning smile that stole her breath away. A chance encounter on a crowded street had led to a whirlwind romance that felt straight out of a fairytale. Tall, rich, handsome, and with a jawline chiseled from marble, the young man standing in her way that day on the sidewalk didn¡¯t have to do much more than smile at her before she felt her heart skip a beat. With a simple and deep ¡°Hey¡±, Susan knew she was smitten. In very little time, she ended up in the arms and then the bed of some rich boy who treated her like a fairytale princess. Her life had transformed overnight. From a struggling lower-middle-class existence to one where she brushed shoulders with the city''s elite. It was magical, intoxicating. For the first time in what felt like the longest time, Susan Marie White had felt happy. Truly, deeply happy. But fairy tales don¡¯t last. In her case, it hadn¡¯t even lasted a full year. All of a sudden, she was pregnant and her Prince Charming was suddenly a completely different man than the storybook prince he had been in her eyes. He was a brat, spoiled, entitled, violent, a man-child wrapped in the veneer of adulthood. Yet she couldn''t shake off the memories of him¡ªthe memory of what he had promised her. It didn¡¯t even last a full year. Either way, she did her best to hold onto the feeling but her old Prince Charming continued to prove that what she thought she had was only a fantasy and in his place, he left a spoiled brat of a man that never had to grow up. Even though it had been quite some time since she had seen her old Prince Charming, let alone heard his voice, sometimes she couldn¡¯t help but think back to when she first met him. Years after their separation, memories of their time together would sneak up on her. She was reminded of it most recently when she looked at her son, more often than not. Especially now, as he led her towards the bustling gala. As they passed the snaking line of uninvited attendees waiting for their turn to enter, an irritated voice pierced through the clamor. "Excuse me?" The protest came from a balding man in a well-tailored navy blue suit as mother and son walked past him on the sidewalk, displeasure clear on his pinched face. "You''re excused," came the nonchalant reply from her son as he turned around to casually dismiss the man. He wore a look that rang with bored indifference ¡ª a polite, albeit vacant, smile ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t enough to hide the slight hint of amusement in his eyes. Susan recognized that expression. She knew it all too well. Rowan wore it often whenever he saw a potential opportunity to kick sand in someone¡¯s face, sometimes literally. The older man stepped forward, bristling at Greg''s dismissive response. He pointed to the queue behind him, the single-breasted jacket of his worn suit straining at the action. "What do you think you''re doing, young man? There''s a line,¡± he huffed, gesturing at the people waiting patiently. Susan glanced up and down said line, making eye contact with some familiar faces as she was met with a slight nod and a smile. While those she recognized chose to say nothing, many more unfamiliar individuals kept quiet all the same, clearly interested but keen to steer clear of any drama. She glanced back to see her son¡¯s smile rise slightly, his bored look gaining a hint of playfulness as he turned around properly and let go of her arm. Greg reached into the inner pocket of his luxurious jacket, the dark blue stripes on top of white fabric embellishing the suitcoat. "We have tickets... sir." "Son, we''ve all purchased tickets," the man reiterated, the depth of his frown increasing. His robust, grey mustache quivered with ill-concealed annoyance, his hand clenching around his own white ticket. "The line exists for that reason," he made a sweeping motion with his hand, indicating the multitude of people obediently queued on either side of him. "Exactly, you bought tickets," Greg''s words rang clear, a mocking smile making his intentions clear as he pulled his hand from his jacket pocket. Held loosely between his fingers was a sleek booklet of black cardstock, the embossed silver letters glinting in the artificial light. A ticket, equally dark, was nestled within it. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re behind the line and I¡¯m not. Mind your hairline before you mind my business, old man.¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. With a casual roll of his eyes, Greg snorted at the stunned man, turning on his heels to stride confidently towards the relentless strobe of camera flashes. For the first time in at least four years, Susan experienced a familiar sense of embarrassment, raising her hands in a conciliatory gesture towards the line of disgruntled guests, Greg¡¯s words apparently not sitting well with some of them. The balding man himself stood aghast, his mouth moving soundlessly as he gripped his expensive ticket as though it were his last lifeline. "I am genuinely sorry. About all that." She offered him and everyone else an apologetic smile, the words rolling off her tongue with well-practiced ease, her voice carrying the sincerity of past experiences. ¡°Honestly, I am. I don¡¯t even know what¡­ He¡¯s never been here before either.¡± ¡°Mom!¡± His call came loud and sharp, Susan flinching slightly at the call. "He''s not usually this¡­ rough," she stumbled over the words, trying to ease the older man''s injured pride as best she could. "He''s a good boy, it''s just...adolescence and¡­" ¡°Mom!¡± Greg''s voice reverberated through the night air once more, a clear note of impatience edging his tone. "Get a move on, already!¡± ¡°Coming, Greggie!¡± A glance behind her had her chuckling nervously before she scurried off after an awaiting Greg. ¡°Again¡­ a good boy.¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The journey to the entrance of the Forsberg Gallery took a surprisingly short amount of time. Susan moved with a rush of anxious energy, her steps hurried and uneven as she clung to her son''s arm. Greg, in contrast, strolled along the sidewalk with a casual, confident stride. Despite their differing pace, Susan couldn''t shake off the feeling that she was the one moving slow somehow. In no time, they made it to the front and Susan¡¯s gaze craned higher and higher as she took in the Fosberg up close. The gallery was a behemoth, intimidating in its asymmetric grandeur. It towered overhead, with steel, glass and art deco touches shimmering under the illumination of floodlights like some deranged architect¡¯s personal kaleidoscope. As they actually neared the red carpet, an obstacle appeared in the form of a stern-faced security guard with a shaved head, the silver crown badge on his suit denoting him as a part of Medhall¡¯s security team, the company seemingly doing more than just sponsoring this extravagant event. Their path was momentarily interrupted, but with a swift exchange of their invitations from Greg, the security man''s suspicious gaze softened. He scrutinized the booklets, his eyebrows visibly raising behind his dark sunglasses at the personal signature of ¡®Max Anders'' clear on the page in silver lettering once he opened it. The man glanced at the invitations, a look of noticeable surprise across his face, before glancing back at them, mother-and-son together, giving both a cursory once-over. ¡°Veder for two, of course.¡± And then, they were on the red carpet. On both sides, the path forward was neatly marked by velvet ropes, an ocean of flashes from photographers and journalists armed with microphones, still cameras and video cameras lined up behind them. Susan Veder, thirty-five years old and more experienced than she''d ever wanted to be, found herself immersed in a world she had once known. It was a world filled with extravagance and grandeur that was both comforting and disturbingly alien. Oh no. Suddenly, the bright lights felt too glaring, the noise too loud. Panic seized her, and she came to an abrupt stop on the carpet, the anxiety in her chest spiking for a moment. I can¡¯t do this. Not again. Her heart pounded like a drum as she glanced around to stare an eager reporter in the face, not for the first time wishing she had her ex-husband at her side. Not without him. ¡°Mom?¡± The person holding her arm wasn¡¯t her husband. Susan Veder raised her head to stare into a pair of blue ¡ª so blue ¡ª eyes that radiated care. At times, she couldn¡¯t help but feel like her son was just like his father, to a degree that she found it outright disconcerting. Other times, though¡­ ¡°You feeling okay, Mom?¡± Susan stared back into a rounded face that was undeniably her own, despite bearing some of the markings of a different man. Get it together, Suze. She nodded back at Greg, a slight smile on her face as she nodded. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Just fine, don¡¯t worry. Let¡¯s¡­¡± she gestured with her chin at the gallery door, ¡°...how about we get inside, okay?¡± The raised eyebrow from her son told her he didn¡¯t exactly buy her words but he didn¡¯t protest, shrugging his shoulders as he let out an audible ¡°Sure.¡± The walk along the plush red carpet felt like a journey through a field of lights. Yet, somehow, despite being the only one among the two of them to have done it before, Susan felt like the outsider while her son strutted along with an easy confidence that made it seem like he had walked it at least a dozen times, if not more. His short golden blonde hair gleamed under the bright lights, each strand seemingly coming together to form a radiant halo around his face. His youthful skin, essentially unblemished, seemed to glow, perfect under the ruthless scrutiny of the high-definition cameras, adding to his charm. Susan had spent time picking out his suit over a month in advance but that had all gone to waste. Her little boy had grown over the last couple months, shooting up several inches and filling out in a rather impressive way ¡ª probably due to the constant workouts he seemed to be doing whenever he had a free moment. This recent growth spurt had effectively thrown her planning out the window, leaving Greg without any suit that he could wear on short notice. Thankfully, Greg was able to get that taken care of on his own...somehow. She¡¯d had her doubts, but Susan couldn¡¯t help but feel her little Greggie had outdone himself with what he¡¯d put together. She knew how hard it was to get something that both looked good and fit your own style and personality. Honestly¡­ Well, he didn¡¯t fail at either. Especially with so little time to prepare. All in all, Greg managed to do both even better than she could ever have hoped for. The white jacket, embellished with thick, vertical stripes of a dark blue and an understated red, along with thinner stripes of cobalt blue in between those, fit him impeccably. Beneath the jacket, a simple cobalt blue vest and white shirt made a statement of their own. The vest, void of any distracting designs, was punctuated with simple black buttons that matched his suit lapel along with a black tie. Pinned into the collar of his crisp white shirt was a thick, gold chain, accompanied by a striking red pocket square peeking out from his jacket''s pocket. The bottom half of Greg¡¯s outfit was just as striking. Black trousers, adorned with delicate white pinstripes, added depth to the whole thing. His footwear, a pair of black and white wingtip oxfords, was both classy and fashionable, and just plain perfect. Beside him, Susan, despite the unfamiliarity of the scene, matched her son''s pace, her own ensemble complementing his vibrancy. She had chosen a graceful blue dress, which cascaded down to her ankles, and her blonde hair, curled into near-ringlets compared to her son''s carefully untamed mane, fell in soft waves around her face. Her feet were adorned in complementary silver heels, just tall enough to lend her an air of elegance without compromising comfort, leaving the overall effect simple yet captivating. However, as she swept her gaze around the red carpet, Susan''s heart rose with the recognition of familiar faces and quickly sank as those same faces seemed to do their best to avoid acknowledging her in return. Lillian Weiss, a woman whose dinner parties were known for their vivacity and style, had been Susan¡¯s confidante just a few years back. Their shopping trips had been something Susan looked forward to every other week. Now, she looked at Susan from the corner of her eyes, hastily looking away when their gazes met. Edward Monahan, a vibrant man known for his charitable works and infectious laughter, was another blast from the past. He was someone who had always had a story to share, a joke to crack, a convenient quote at the ready. Yet, as their eyes met, Edward merely raised his chin in her direction, wide smile not quite managing to reach his eyes. Cynthia and Patrick Barrington, a power couple working to expand the reach of Brockton Bay¡¯s independent superhero industrial complex in the corporate sector, had once been regular dinner companions. Cynthia''s animated talks about her travels and Patrick''s deep discussions on world economics were staples at every gathering. But tonight, they merely nodded at Susan, their expressions a blend of shock and awkwardness. Finally, there was Mary-Anne Cross, a fellow art-lover and an avid admirer of Susan¡¯s ex-husband. Her face broke into a surprised expression when she saw Susan, quickly replaced by a vague nod and a swift change of direction. Susan was actually glad not to get more than that from her. Seeing the woman in her bed had been the last time Mary-Anne had ever witnessed a smile from Susan directed towards her. Some friends, I guess, she thought bitterly as she continued to make pointed eye contact with specific faces among the well-dressed crowd. They were people Susan had once considered part of her extended social family, sharing meals, laughter, secrets. And now, with her wealth and status stripped away with her marriage, their amicable nods had become frigid, their warm smiles replaced with polite indifference. It¡¯s so weird that the only one who never stopped talking to me was the closest one to Rowan. Never thought in my life that I¡¯d ever be looking forward to talking with- ¡°Susan?¡± Caught off guard, she blinked, yanked from her train of thought. Is that? Susan turned carefully, mindful of her elegant heels, to see a familiar man making his way toward her. The man in question, light blond hair coiffed to perfection and resplendent in a bespoke charcoal gray suit, had just emerged from the grand front doors of the gallery. His presence was commanding, impeccable attire drawing eyes like a magnet. His suit was cut to perfection, flattering his lean build. The jacket hung beautifully off his broad shoulders, and his trousers were pressed with military precision, adding to the impression of length in his confident stride. Her eyes widened in recognition as she took in his approach, surprise making her voice louder than expected. "Max?" The man strode towards her, as composed as ever and just as elegant. As much as her husband¡¯s presence had overwhelmed that of his best friend, she¡¯d always noticed. For as long as he had been in her life, he had served as the perfect mirror to her husband, equal albeit different. Composed where her husband had been boisterous, caring when he was cold, perceptive as opposed to indifferent, it reflected all the way down to appearances as Max stood lean where Rowan had taken up space with muscular bulk. ¡°Susan.¡± A smile lit up his face as he properly caught sight of her, now just a few meters away. She smiled back at him, actually glad to see an actual friendly face for once. She couldn¡¯t blame the man for being so distant during the last few years. He had been going through his own divorce and that on top of losing his previous wife. Even still, Max had managed to remember birthdays and Christmas, always being there with lavish gifts for both her and Greg. ¡°Max,¡± she replied back, her own smile widening unintentionally as the single syllable left her. "Greg!" A new voice chimed in, causing two pairs of eyes ¡ª one blue, one gray ¡ª to turn their attention away from each other. A grinning Greg Veder raised an eyebrow as both faces turned his way, amusement twinkling in his bright blue eyes. ¡°My bad. Thought we were doing a bit.¡± "A jokester just like your father, aren''t you?" Max Anders¡¯ smiled down at Greg, expression seemingly warm. Greg''s smile turned down visibly as he turned his attention solely to Max, blue eyes seeming to glow under the flash of camera lights. "A jokester..." His lip twitched back upwards. "That''s me, alright." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Lag 6.19b Lag 6.19b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Veder had never been a fan of art. Then again, what teenage boy really was? Still, it could be pretty accurately stated that Greg had less appreciation for art than the average teenager. Not to say that he had anything against it, really. After all, it looked nice, right? Usually. It just really wasn''t his sort of thing. Especially art like this. "What we have here, folks," Greg began, squinting at a peculiar object in the center of the gallery, "is a smashed glass jar turned upside down with shards dumped inside¡­ for some reason?" He tilted his head, blue eyes scrutinizing the supposed art piece. "Someone forget to take out the recycling?" "It''s..." the person next to him stuttered, someone who seemed even more clueless about the exhibit, shrugging helplessly as he spoke. "...Art?" The uncertainty in their voice was obvious, suggesting they were as baffled as Greg. Greg responded with a dismissive eye roll and a scoff. "Doubt it." "There''s even a plaque and everything," the other teenager protested, sounding almost desperate to justify the existence of the strange exhibit. With one eyebrow raised, Greg let his gaze drift to the small plaque mounted above the artwork. "Wow¡­ The Folly of Man," he read out loud, a smirk twisting his lips. "Sounds about right." He was pretty sure he''d seen weirder things on the internet, but who was he to judge the artistic merit of literal garbage? He let out a snort at that thought. Who am I kidding? I can 100% judge. Especially if they''re going to be this straight-up pretentious about it. "I''m betting that the artist woke up one day, tripped over their trash can, and thought, ''This is gonna look great!" Greg continued, voice full of fake excitement. His joke drew a stifled laugh from the boy standing by his side, and even a few smirks from the nearby adults who were trying their very very best to act like they understood the piece. He cast a glance around the gallery, gaze lingering on several other exhibits. There was one that appeared to be a rusty bicycle wheel attached to an old television set. Another was a tangle of bright neon wires twisted into the vague shape of a cat. A bunch of the art-pieces on the top floor ¡ª the twenty-sixth ¡ª of the Fosberg had a title just as pretentious, and each one looked as though it belonged in a scrapyard rather than an art gallery. His lips twitched with a barely suppressed laugh of his own. There was a joke here, even if it was at the expense of someone else''s overblown "artistic expression". What else could you expect from a pretentious event like this? If nothing else, at least it was good for a laugh. "...look lovely tonight, Susan." What it wasn''t good for was enough of a distraction. Because even from halfway across the ostentatious room, over the sounds of clinking glass, idle chatter, and ambient laughter, Greg could still somehow hear his mom being fucking hit on. "I couldn''t lie if I wanted to. That blue brings out your eyes so beautifully." His hands clenched, knuckles whitening as his jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching faintly but visibly. Shifting his gaze to the person standing beside him, he plastered on a smile that clashed harshly with the icy glint in his eyes. "Theooooo," he drawled his godbrother''s name, his voice a hard edge of forced cheerfulness. "Talk to me." "What?" The boy in question blinked in surprise at the sudden shift in mood and topic, the word spurting from his lips. "Huh?" He spluttered, visible confusion knitting his brows together. "About what?" Greg raised an eyebrow. "About what? What d''ya mean ''about what?'' Need a topic? My back is hurting from carrying this conversation. Seriously, just talk." "I¡­ I¡­" Theo stuttered, lost for words. "I-I-I-Aye-yi-yi," Greg broke in, rolling his eyes and laughing - a laugh that rang a touch too hollow. "Let''s talk life. The universe. Our lives. It''s been, what, three years? How''ve you been? What''ve you been doing? How''s the sis? Your hot stepmom? Anything. Just work with me here, man." The faint frown that creased Theo''s forehead and the slight spark in his eyes caught Greg''s attention, the first hint of actual emotion he''d detected since their reunion. "Hot? K-Kayden? That''s really not cool of y-" "Right, right, lying isn''t cool. She''s not. Your cousins, though? Aunts? Whatever, the twins," he waved a casual hand in the direction of the two radiant, near-identical blondes across the room, one''s hair spilling over her shoulders in waves while the other''s was swept up in an elegant updo. "Smokeshows. Introduce me." "What?" "Theo, it''s okay. I can say this. We''re not related by blood¡­ I''m assuming. Hard to tell sometimes. City''s practically swarming with blondes. Odds are good, I''ll end up kissing my second cousin one of these days." "What?" Theo looked genuinely flustered, shaking his head slightly. "I''m¡­ you''re confusing me, Greg." "Am I? Am I really?" Greg''s smile didn''t falter, but his thinning patience was visible in the blankness of his eyes. He leaned closer to Theo, who instinctively recoiled slightly, looking flustered as he leaned back and away from the taller blond. "No worries. I''ll catch you up to speed then. Hi there, I''m Greg. Your godbrother from another mother. We haven''t seen each other in three years. You''ve gained weight. I''ve gained height. And right now, I''m doing my very best to distract myself with any and everything else so I don''t punch your dad in the face for trying to fuck my mom." As his words sank in, Greg watched as Theo''s eyes flicked from him to the spectacle unfolding nearly a dozen meters away... only to quickly snap back. "I¡­ don''t think he''s-" "Max, please," the sudden sound of his mother''s girlish giggle cut through the murmurs of the gallery like a hot knife through butter, making Greg physically cringe. "You don''t have to say that, it''s just me." A heavy silence fell between them. Theo, floundering for words, finally murmured, "...okay, maybe." As if this gala couldn''t get any more unbearable, Greg groused to himself, forcing himself to keep his attention off both Max and his mother as they did everything short of canoodle. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air after Theo''s lackluster acknowledgement. Greg felt a twist in his gut, but he kept his smile fixed firmly in place. Instead of dwelling, he decided to let his gaze wander, trying to detach from the pathetic tableau playing out at the table across the room, and found himself studying the room instead. Stuck on the 26th floor of the prestigious Fosberg Gallery, surrounded by the city''s so-called elites in a ballroom that screamed money, it all looked like he expected. Sweeping vistas of the Brockton Bay skyline surrounding it, the room was bathed in a soft glow from the city lights. Artwork worth a fortune adorned the walls, a touch of class adding to the posh ambiance, and right below them rested sculptures worth even more that added a touch of trash. Chandeliers hung low, casting a warm, iridescent light that glinted off the elegant glassware and the meticulously arranged table settings. A string quartet added a layer of sophistication, their melodic tunes enveloping the room. Greg couldn''t help but admit that it was kinda pretty. You know, If you were into that kind of thing. In the middle of all this, representatives from companies, the media, politicians, and the vast majority of Brockton Bay''s Protectorate and Wards rubbed shoulders, all there for the noble cause of rebuilding a city that had been pummeled by Bakuda''s insane bombing spree. It effectively went unsaid that the fundraiser had originally just been a simple affair to boost the Mayor''s re-election campaign, but after the chaos Greg had personally put an end to, its purpose had evolved in a big way. Figures like Armsmaster, Triumph, Assault, Battery, Dauntless, and Miss Militia were scattered amongst the crowd, their bright costumes standing out against the sea of tailored suits and elaborate gowns. Over by the politicians, Triumph was looking anything but triumphant, stuck in what seemed to be an interminable conversation with the Mayor. The hero seemed to have positioned himself firmly at the mayor''s side, his demeanor reflecting the easy confidence of a star quarterback turned superhero. They were engaged in a hushed conversation, one that seemed too intense for a social gathering, but casual enough not to raise eyebrows. Greg found it odd that Triumph hadn''t broken off from the mayor''s side since his arrival at the event. He wondered if it was part of his duty to play bodyguard. Or the guy could just be into politics, I guess. Greg shrugged, not that he really cared anyway. It wasn''t like Triumph was anyone''s favorite hero, to even know what the guy was into.
Triumph Lvl 35 Hero: Protectorate ENE Title: Roaring Lion HP: 725/725 Power: Sonokinetic Burst A respected member of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and a great singer on his own merits, Triumph was going to be here whether or not he was assigned to be part of the gala. The Mayor wasn''t going to take no for an answer on that. Spends a lot of time watching baseball or wishing he was playing the game.
In stark contrast, Dauntless, with his Arclance sheathed and his ShockShield deflated, was holding court with a gaggle of women all to himself, both young and not so young. The women were hanging on his every word, even though he hardly seemed to say anything. His quiet chuckles and that friendly, strong-jawed, ''savior of the city'' look were apparently enough. Not bad for someone who tried to swoop in and steal my credit. Greg had to suppress a snort as he triggered his Analyze yet again, quickly closing his eyes in a forced blink before any eagle-eyed cape could spot the use of his powers.
Dauntless Lvl 85 Hero: Protectorate ENE Title: RPG Hero HP: 320/320 Power: Incremental Ascendancy Imbuement Here''s Dauntless, the living proof (other than you) that video game logic can apply to real life. Every day, he powers up an item and becomes stronger. A single dad who works too hard, who loves his kid and never stops, a gentle hand and the heart of a fighter, he''s a survivooooor¡­
RPG Hero? Greg blinked, slightly shocked. I¡­ I guess that makes sense. Just different game mechanics, huh? Shaking his head slightly at the realization that he and Dauntless were a bit more similar than he realized, he glanced over at the small crowd of people not too far from the Roman-themed hero. Just like Dauntless, Miss Militia, in her signature green fatigues, had surrounded herself with a group of individuals, engaged in small talk, but with much more variety in her audience. She radiated an aura of calm even with only her eyes visible, her conversation easy and warm as she quietly laughed and replied to questions. "...the plans I''ve seen for the city''s revitalization project look amazing..." Her words were received with a gentle nod from a grey-haired man and a bright smile from a younger woman, maybe an architect herself. "...As for art, I''ve always been partial to watercolors. The medium takes balance and a gentle hand..."
Miss Militia Lvl 40 Hero: Protectorate ENE Title: Girl (Gun) Power Power: Mundane Arms Manifestation HP: 315/315 A walking arsenal. Need a knife? Boom. Need a gun? Bang. Need a bazooka? Stand back. She can conjure any conventional weapon she can think of, making her a one-woman army. Imagine always having a spoon, though? Little secret, her actual superpower is being really good at small-talk even though she hates it.
Greg''s gaze then drifted over to Assault who was sharing a laugh with a group of actors. He recognized some from the local "Law & Order: PRT" specials that had filmed in Brockton Bay. Assault''s laughter boomed over the hum of conversation, but his partner, Battery, stood aside and apart from the conversation, her body language making it clear: she wasn''t a big fan of socializing. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. Armsmaster, however, stood out like a sore thumb. His armor gleamed under the soft light, drawing the attention of those around him. He was perched in a corner, looming in his full armor, his gaze sweeping the room as if he expected Bakuda to burst in any second with a bomb. Greg couldn''t help a smirk. The guy always seemed ready for a fight, even in a room full of rich, harmless socialites. Greg couldn''t help but feel a little sorry for the guy. To be fair, he was also ready for a fight, but that''s because he was looking for a distraction more than anything. Cheer up, Halbeard. It''s a party.
Armsmaster Lvl 55 Hero: Protectorate ENE Title: The Over-Compensator Power: Technical Hyper-Efficiency Augmentation HP: 425/425 If there was a contest for ''The Most Serious Man in the Universe,'' Armsmaster would probably win. His power is all about making things more efficient, from his combat style to his morning tooth-brushing routine. But the real question is, if he''s so efficient, why does he need that much beard?
The Wards had claimed a table of their own, Aegis, Kid Win, Vista, Gallant and the new additions, Lady Bug and Browbeat, all relegated to one spot, looking slightly out of place from where they sat at the appointed "kiddy table." Despite his personal thoughts about the Wards and their lack of a cool factor, his gaze lingered on Lady Bug.
Aegis Lvl 35 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: Implacable Teen HP: ?/? Power: Integrated Redundancy Optimization Ever met a kid so stubborn he just refuses to stay down? That''s Aegis. It''s like puberty on steroids, only this guy became a superhero. Despite being the young leader of the Brockton Bay Wards, he never lets the weight of the world get to him. Actually, that''s a lie. He just chooses to ignore it. Sound familiar?
Kid Win Lvl 18 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: ? HP: 185/185 Power: Modular Technological Innovation While most kids his age were putting down Lego sets, Kid Win was building weapons to fight supervillains as the resident tech expert of the Wards. Just remember to return his gadgets in one piece, or he might use his tinkering skills to fill your locker with self-replicating ping pong balls. He also has, you guessed it, serious issues.
Vista Lvl 30 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: Shaker Bell HP: 130/130 Power: Spatial Distortion Manipulation Imagine a funhouse mirror, but in real life. Now imagine that mirror being a pre-teen girl. Phenomenal warping power, itty-bitty living space. Despite how much she wants to claim she''s different, her anger issues are only second to Shadow Stalker''s.
Gallant Lvl 22 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: Shining Armor HP: 250/250 Power: Emoti-Resonant Impulse He''s the kind of guy who''d offer a supervillain therapy before knocking them out. And that''s not an exaggeration. Dean could be a walking advertisement for a psychology degree if he wasn''t busy playing knight-in-shining-armor with his powers. Also, he kinda needs a hug of his own.
Browbeat Lvl 25 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: Muscle Memory HP: 1135/1135 Power: Tactile Kinetic Self-Augmentation You know the guy at the gym who''s always there? That''s Browbeat for you. With the ability to bulk up and self-heal, he''s a walking anatomy lesson and the new muscle for the Wards. Just don''t leave him alone with his thoughts too long.
Lady Bug Lvl 23 Hero-in-Training: Wards ENE Title: Insect Queen HP: 191/191 Power: Pan-Arthropod Control Think being a teenager is tough? Try being a teenager who can control all the bugs. On the plus side, she''s the best person to call when you need to ruin someone''s picnic. Just remember: spiders are friends, not foes, in her book. You should go over and say hi. She''d love that.
Wow. He couldn''t help it, honestly. The girl stood out compared to everyone else on her team. Her long, curly black hair seemed to cascade down her shoulders, the one part of her costume that remained identical to what he remembered from that night. Clearly, everything else had gotten a makeover. Now, a vibrant red domino mask graced her face, five black spots in an asymmetrical design surrounding her eyes. Below that, she wore a double-breasted peacoat that was just as red, the hip-length jacket adorned with black polka dots, piping, and cuffs, looked great on her. The skirt was similar in design, with slits at the front, back, and sides revealing black tights underneath, and her boots ¡ª red and thigh-high ¡ª rounded off her outfit. As good as she looked in her new costume, Greg couldn''t help but shake his head at the sight of the girl, feeling somewhat bad for the girl he had once teamed-uppartied with when he soloed Lung the first time. "I can''t believe she joined the Wards, though," he muttered to himself, "those guys are so lame. She''d be way cooler on her own." He pulled his gaze from her to look elsewhere in the room, trying to find something else to catch his attention. Among the local celebrities and teen actors who added another layer of glamour to the event, the younger members of New Wave had decided to show up. Victoria Dallon, Amelia Dallon, Crystal Pelham, and Eric Pelham, better known as Glory Girl, Panacea, Laserdream, and Shielder respectively, were all there and all dressed up, their usual bright superhero costumes swapped out for regular party clothes. Victoria looked good in a white-and-gold sleeveless dress, Crystal rocked a bright red one, while Panacea had on a floral, red-on-whitewhite and red long-sleeved evening gown and Eric was all cleaned up in a black suit with a bright blue tie.
Victoria Dallon (Glory Girl) Lvl 40 Alias: Glory Girl Hero: New Wave Title: Collateral Damage Barbie HP: 245/245 Power: Oscillating Hyper-Aegis Field The poster child of New Wave, and the literal golden girl of Brockton Bay. Part supermodel, part superhero, all sass. She has a temper. She has issues. She has insecurities, and so does her power.
Amelia Dallon (Panacea) Lvl 12 Hero: New Wave Title: Physician, Heal Thyself! HP: 155/155 Power: Comprehensive Biokinetic Alteration Panacea, the go-to girl for all your miraculous healing needs. Is it cancer? Broken bones? Mutant flu? Doesn''t matter, because she can fix it with a touch. What she can''t fix is how much she hates people talking to her.
Crystal Pelham Lvl 45 Alias: Laserdream Hero: New Wave Title: The Beam Dream HP: 280/280 Power: Dynamic Crimson Cascade If her name doesn''t give it away, she''s pretty good with lasers. Flight, force fields, light blasts, she''s got the whole package. It''s like she stepped out of a comic book and forgot to leave the awesome behind. It''s a shame she''s absolutely the messiest person you''ll probably ever meet.
Eric Pelham Lvl 30 Alias: Shielder Hero: New Wave Title: Rising of The Shield Hero HP: 255/255 Power: Azure Forcefield Nexus Here''s the thing about Shielder - he''s not just defensive, he''s offensively defensive. He can throw shields, create force-field bubbles and still find time to be a good brother. The real question is, can he do a Captain America style shield rebound? He''s a cool fun guy with a secret love of Tanking as a Bulwark on World of Heroes.
Looks like Shielder''s doing okay since last time, Greg thought with a nod. I mean, why wouldn''t he be? It''s not like his cousin doesn''t fix entire missing body parts every day. In contrast to the radiant figures of the teenage heroes, the PRT squad on duty near the entrance of the room looked downright ominous. Dressed in full armor, their outfits an interweaving blend of kevlar and chain mesh, they were the embodiment of stern protection. The featureless visors on their helmets gave off an intimidating, almost robotic vibe, casting long, impersonal shadows as they stood in formation, silent sentinels. Even still, Greg found his attention being pulled back to the young members of New Wave in attendance at the gala. There was something odd about this, though. Where''s the rest of them? The whole lot of New Wave used to patrol together like one big, happy, flying and blasting, superhero family. Except Panacea but that was for obvious reasons. That was literally their whole thing. Yet lately, three of the four here had been patrolling separately, leaving the rest of the family at home. It was another bit of juicy gossip on PHO that Greg had managed to spot during slow patrol nights, and something that had slipped his mind till now. Wonder what that''s about? "Theo¡­" Greg nudged again as he stood perfectly still, his eyes darting from the New Wave table to Theo''s sheepishly blond corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. "Earth to Theo?" "H-huh, what is it?" Theo stuttered, dragged back into their conversation. "You know if the rest of New Wave showed up?" Greg asked, his voice blending into the room''s murmurs. "...actually, no, they didn''t. M-my dad was kinda talking about it a couple weeks ago. The New Wave adults¡­" Theo shrugged, following Greg''s gaze to the designated New Wave table. "For some reason, they canceled their RSVP. Dad wasn''t happy about that." "Yeah, I bet he wasn''t," Greg said, struggling to suppress the disdain prickling beneath his skin as he verbally brushed off the mention of Max''s tantrum. He was more interested in the recent events surrounding New Wave than some old man''s bad mood. "You know what''s going on with them, though?" "...not really?" "I''m not hearing a no, Theo," Greg glanced back over at Theo only to pause as a ripple of movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. Lady Bug was shifting in her seat, her red and black costume stark against the white of the tablecloth. "Actually forget it, don''t answer. Just chin up and follow me." "Wh-" Greg didn''t wait for Theo''s stammered question as he made a beeline for the Wards table. In a stride that was borderline arrogant, he closed the distance in a matter of moments, his confident smirk wide on his face as he turned his gaze onto the six young heroes. They were all there, from Aegis to Browbeat, but his eyes inevitably settled on Lady Bug. She looked...familiar, and not just because of their previous encounter during the Lung fight. He found himself looking a bit longer, trying to figure out where he had seen that particular slant of her eyes, the curve of her jawline. "Hey there, guys," he opened, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He drummed his fingers against the table as he spoke, the rhythmic tapping serving as an informal drumroll to his casual tone. "What''s up? Nice to meet you." "...Hi." Aegis, leader of the Wards, stuttered slightly as he processed the interruption. His gaze did a quick sweep over his team before refocusing on Greg. "Nice to meet you, too?" he returned, the inflection adding an unsaid question at the end. "Greg!" Theo''s voice pulled him from his thoughts as the blond lumbered over to join him. "Right, manners," Greg said, a chuckle escaping him. He clapped Theo on the back, drawing an awkward smile from his godbrother. "I''m Greg Veder. This is my cousin, Theo." A chorus of hellos filled the air, interrupted by Vista. "I mean, we know him," she chimed in. "You do?" Greg''s eyebrow arched, his gaze bouncing between the tiny blonde and Theo. "Do you?" "I, uh, yeah." Theo shuffled uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair as he shot Greg a sheepish look. "I go to Arcadia, y''know. I have classes with Eric. You know, Shielder. I met these guys through him." "In-cre-di-ble," Greg let out a whistle, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "Small world, huh?" A murmur of awkward agreement fluttered around the table, punctuated by a soft voice, almost a whisper. "Yeah¡­ Small world." Greg looked toward the sound, his grin widening as he laid eyes on Lady Bug. Huh. Something about her voice, it was strangely familiar. Not just the voice, but something about her...He nodded at her, grinning. "Hey." She avoided his gaze, her voice measured and cool as she replied with the same. "Hey." "Hey there, I''m G-" "Greg Veder." Lady Bug interrupted, her shoulders tightening. She couldn''t meet Greg''s gaze, her voice strained as she hastily added, "I heard. Nice to meet you, but we''re kind of busy. Talking about official Ward stuff. Right now." "Ouch," Greg feigned a wince. He glanced at the others, noticing their confused looks. "Stepped on a few toes there, didn''t I?" "Could you just go?" Lady Bug shot back again, voice far more tense this time. "Please. We''re busy." Greg''s smile wavered, the palpable heat from Lady Bug throwing him off. "Ah, gotcha." Greg''s grin faltered slightly, his eyes drifting over the rest of the Wards, who were all giving Lady Bug odd looks. "No problem. I don''t want to interrupt official Ward business, right?" The words fell from his lips as he rubbed his thumb under his nose. "Come on, Theo, let''s leave the baby capes at the kiddy table and go back to ours. Maybe we''ll find a real hero on the way back, like Prodigy maybe." The doughy blond boy about Greg''s age blinked owlishly at him, gray eyes widening slightly as his eyes flicked back over to the stunned Wards, Aegis'' hand on Vista''s shoulder the only thing keeping the small blond in her seat. "But I thought you wanted t-" "I know what I wanted to do, Theo," Greg cut him off with a laugh as his eyes drifted back onto his mother''s laughing face. His hand went to Theo''s back and began walking, the other boy forced to move without his consent. "Now, I want to do something else." Theo glanced back at the table where Greg''s mother sat with his father, clearly filled with doubt over the idea. "But do we have t-" The chubby teenager clammed up for a second time, this time without a single word. A simple glance from Greg was enough to shut down the other boy''s attempt to disagree. It had been a little over three years since he had seen the kid he usually called his "cousin". Since then, he had forgotten how timid Theo was, skittish even. It was almost annoying watching him flinch and freeze up at the slightest confrontation, like¡­ It felt almost familiar, and he wasn''t sure why. "No, we don''t have to," Greg smiled back at him as he leaned forward. Theo''s face paled, a flicker of fear passing through his eyes as he stepped back and away. His hands twisted nervously in front of him, causing the fabric of his baby blue suit to bunch awkwardly around the crook of his arms. Jesus, dude. Man up, please. "But we''re going anyway." Theo, recognizing the stubborn look in Greg''s eye, nodded hesitantly, choosing not to argue. Cutscene: Wards Cutscene: Wards ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The complicated tapestry of Taylor''s life, knotted with the shadows of bullies and tormentors, had been carefully tucked away when she''d shifted to Arcadia: when she''d morphed into Lady Bug as she joined with the Wards. Despite that, the past had a pesky way of pushing its unwanted nose into the present. Taylor watched Greg Veder walk away, his departure releasing a coil in her gut she hadn''t realized was wound so tight. I really thought I was done with this... Sure, she still dealt with Sophia''s biting words at the Wards base and, despite how much she hated seeing the other girl, it was really fun seeing her walk around with an electrified ankle monitor. On top of that, Emma''s coma situation, as messed up as it was, had also offered another sense of relief. Her old friend was out of commission, possibly for good. Terrible, sure, but not something she really felt bad for. It seemed her old issues, the ones that made the last two years a living hell, were being neatly packaged and stowed away. She had her dad back for one, their relationship blossoming into something that actually felt more like a proper family. Each morning they exchanged smiles over the breakfast table; a simple thing she never thought she''d experience again. And then the universe throws in the wrench that was Greg Veder. Greg''s entrance to the gala was a slap in the face ¡ª the return of an old irritation. He was different, somehow looking straight-up amazing compared to the Greg she remembered. It was actually disgusting how handsome he looked, because puberty had done him a ton of favors, face and body-wise. Even his hair¡­ God, he looked like he could have been a model ¡ª and that was fucking ironic. It gnawed at her, the bitter unfairness of it all, like a painful punchline to some cosmic joke. Apparently, he''d hit the jackpot in the family lottery too, attached to one of Brockton Bay''s wealthiest, money and status on his side. Why can''t life play fair, just once? She remained sitting at the Wards table, adorned in her Lady Bug costume, her eyes scanning over the crowd, only half-listening to her teammates as they chattered amongst themselves. Dean (the chivalrous Ward, Gallant) was talking about some event he had attended with his father. Missy, known to the world as Vista, was eagerly sharing an anecdote from their recent patrol. She let their words wash over her as she sipped on her drink, her mind still wrestling with the intrusion of Greg into her new world. Her silence didn''t go unnoticed. Missy''s voice cut through the noise and her own thoughts like a razor-sharp knife. "What''s up, LB? You''ve been pretty quiet." Her usually sparkling eyes were heavy with concern and the others followed suit, their curious gazes boring into her. Taylor turned to look at Missy, her eyes hard. The little girl was sharp, always catching on quicker than anyone would expect from someone her age. And beneath that high-pitched voice and youthful face was a seasoned cape, a warrior who''d seen far more than her fair share of the city''s grime. Taylor had underestimated her once, during a training exercise. Never again. "Just thinking," Taylor replied, her voice curt, betraying the turmoil of her thoughts. "About that guy?" Missy asked, her voice lowered, her eyes fixed on Taylor''s. "The one who came over here?" Browbeat, a tall, muscular cape sitting beside her, stirred. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Gallant shot him a look that killed the words before they even left his mouth. Kyle was a nice guy, a bit too nice for his own good. Always looking for the ''why'' behind everything. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Chris (the tech-wiz, Kid Win) glanced at her through his red visor. "Seems like you two knew each other?" "We don''t." Taylor''s tone was terse, her gaze distant. Gallant offered a soft, intervening murmur, "I see. You understand why that''s hard for us to believe, though?" Taylor sighed. "I''d rather not talk about it," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Talking about Greg felt like picking at a fresh wound, a reminder of a time when she was someone else. Someone weaker. "Well, if you''re not going to tell us what that was about," Vista piped up, her voice laced with a note of defiance. "You could at least clue us in on who that asshole was." "Vista," Aegis'' voice was a terse reprimand, his gaze falling on the thirteen-year-old like a parent''s stern look. "My bad," she responded softly, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Just¡­ keep that to the HQ," Aegis added, his voice softer now. Taylor appreciated Carlos, as Aegis, for that. He knew when to push and when to give space, a quality she admired. "We just... knew each other," Taylor muttered, her gaze still locked on the spot Greg had vacated. "From school." Gallant turned to Taylor, his voice gentle. "You only have to tell us if you want to, LB. It just seems like you have some history with him." History was a mild word for what she and Greg had. She sighed, her mind flitting back to the boy she once knew. Acne-ridden, a little pudgy, with an annoying persistence that made her skin crawl. "He was just... there." Her words felt inadequate, like trying to sketch a landscape with a broken pencil. "Kind of like a bully. Kind of like a friend." The table fell silent, the collective attentiveness of her teammates threatening to suffocate her. Did he know? Was that why he came up to me? He had been looking too close at her, his eyes narrowed and judging as he studied her face. She found her voice, "He''s basically one of my bullies from Winslow. Well, not really, but it''s hard to explain. I thought he was just a random nerd who had a crush on me or maybe he had been working an angle for over a year, pretending to be like that to get close to me? It''s kind of confusing." Confusing was an understatement. Greg Veder had been an annoying part of her past, a bug she couldn''t squash, and now he was here in her present, looking nothing like the Greg Veder she knew. He had lost the chubbiness, his skin had cleared up, and he stood taller than he ever did back in Winslow. It was as if he had metamorphosed overnight, while she wasn''t looking. He had been a random nerd with a creepy crush on her, now he was a hunk with connections to high society, an unfair twist of fate. "He''s an asshole," Taylor continued, her voice flat, her face devoid of any emotion. "He''s one of Sophia''s friends and I honestly never want to see him again. Odds are, I never will." As she spoke, she could see her teammates exchange glances. They didn''t press her further, a small mercy she was grateful for. Being Lady Bug, being part of the Wards, it was a fresh start. She wanted to leave the old Taylor Hebert behind, but it seemed her past was not ready to let go of her yet. "He''s a jerk." She shrugged, her voice bitter. "That''s all you need to know." It''s not supposed to be like this. This isn''t me. Lady Bug shifted her gaze from her teammates back to the crowd. She took a long, deep breath, her eyes skimming over the room, lingering on the adult capes engaged in their mingling and politicking. It was a different world indeed, far from the desolate corridors of Winslow. She scanned the sea of faces, some familiar, some new, but all hidden behind the masks of their alter egos. She was looking for Greg, but she didn''t find him. A sense of relief washed over her. She didn''t need his ghost haunting her new life. Aegis spoke up, successfully steering the conversation away from Greg and Taylor''s troubled past. "We should mingle, guys. We''re the young heroes of Brockton Bay after all." Taylor rose with them, a slight smile on her face. The Wards were a distraction, a respite, a purpose. They were friends, comrades-in-arms. She had started to trust them, to let them in, to feel at home with them. Still, as she glanced back at her team, the unspoken words hanging in the air felt like a too-heavy blanket in the atmosphere. Browbeat, Gallant, Aegis, Vista ¡ª they looked at her, concern etched on their faces. It was a far cry from the biting sarcasm and cruel taunts of Sophia and Emma. Taylor had made a world for herself here, amongst the Wards. She''d fought tooth and nail to earn their trust, to build a place where she wasn''t an outcast. Here, she wasn''t a target; she was a teammate. The bitterness melted away slowly, replaced by a strange cocktail of gratitude and trepidation. She felt lighter, more grounded. She was Lady Bug, and she had the Wards on her side. She was Taylor Hebert, and she wasn''t going to let Greg Veder, or anyone else, unravel her hard-fought peace. She cast a final look at the spot Greg had occupied earlier, steeling herself. No more ghosts. No more hiding. I''ve changed. It''s time they see that. "I''m fine, guys. I promise," she said, her voice steady. "And hey, if I have to see him again...I''ll be fine with that too." With that, the Wards rose from their seats and made their way towards the crowd. Taylor tagged along, her heart beating a tad lighter. As Lady Bug, she wasn''t just Taylor Hebert anymore, she was more. She had been through hell and came back stronger. Greg Veder was a ghost of her past, but he had nothing to do with Lady Bug. After all, she was a cape. Greg might be different now but he couldn''t come close to her on that. Lag 6.19c Lag 6.19c ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Theo stood rooted by the side of an empty table, a silent statue in a sea of rich party-people, as his godbrother nonchalantly sipped from a flute of apple cider. They had chosen this table together¡­ Well, Greg had chosen it, and Theo had simply¡­ said nothing. His father''s instructions echoed in his head, an insistent whisper, commanding him to ''stick by Greg¡¯s side and make friends''. It was an awkward pairing, with Greg at least half a head taller than Theo, and while Theo was well aware of it, Greg didn¡¯t seem to know or care in the slightest. Instead, he stood tall and aloof, bright blue eyes scanning the bustling room with an air of bored indifference. Following Greg''s lead, Theo elected to stay standing, mirroring his godbrother''s stance, and doing his best to mimic his detached demeanor. Compared to his familiar defense mechanism of sinking into a chair and trying his best to go unseen, it wasn¡¯t one of his favorites. I get that it¡¯s been three years, Theo thought, his grey eyes discretely sizing up the boy next to him. But still¡­ Greg, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny, didn''t flinch, didn''t even glance his way. If he was at all aware, he certainly didn¡¯t say a word about it. He just looks so different. That wasn¡¯t even an exaggeration. He had seen pictures of Greg just a year ago and the two of them could have been brothers, only accounting for a noticeable difference in weight. Both awkward, blond, and with uncool interests, they had managed to keep each other occupied when no one else would be their friend. They even had the same near bowl-cut of a hairstyle for years, something they did out of solidarity more than any real fashion sense. But now¡­ Suppressing a frown, Theo studied Greg further. This version of Greg was like a stranger, and Theo wasn''t sure how to feel about that. Honestly, he wouldn¡¯t have guessed this was Greg at all if his dad hadn¡¯t said as much when he brought him and his mom over to their assigned table. The Greg he remembered might have been a few years out of date, but that one felt like someone he could relate to. Someone he did relate to. They shared more than awkwardness and uncool hobbies. Both boys had fathers who were far from happy with who they were, men who constantly pushed and prodded them to be different. Greg''s father was a louder, happier, more muscular (but not quite as wealthy) mirror of his own. Their disparities seemed minor compared to the glaring similarity - the palpable disappointment their fathers held for them, made apparent at every turn. But that was then, and now¡­ Now was different. Is this what not having a dickhead dad around does to you? Theo allowed himself to wonder what life would be like away from his dad¡¯s expectations. If I could only be so l- His mental musings were abruptly disrupted by a flutter of pink near their table. A girl ¡ª delicate, pretty, and with long brown hair ¡ª was sneaking furtive glances at Greg as she slowed her approach toward them, her cheeks reddening under Theo''s bewildered gaze. Heat rose on his face as he spotted the girl, and he had no doubt that his cheeks were at least as pink as her dress ¡ª if not outright red by now ¡ª as she took several quick steps toward their table, the sudden movement making her bounce. "Hey, I¡ª" ¡°We¡¯re busy.¡± Theo¡¯s gaze slowly shifted toward Greg as the words left his godbrother¡¯s lips, his mouth nearly falling open at the audacity. Just like that? Not even a hello? ¡°Personal conversation. You understand.¡± Greg didn¡¯t even so much as flinch, literally shooting her a bored look as the girl stuttered in response blinked in surprise. A small part of Theo felt his heart shrivel up as the girl scurried away in a pink blur and went back to wherever she was going, wearing a newly insecure look on her face. ¡°What the hell?¡± Greg''s bored facade cracked, making way for an unexpected grin that sprawled across his face. His eyes, bright and piercing, bore into Theo''s, the intensity of his gaze a stark contrast to his bored detachment from a moment ago. "Finally, I was wondering if there was a real person under all that fake bullshit quietness. How you doing, Theo?" Taken aback, Theo fumbled with his words, Greg''s blunt honesty throwing him off balance. He turned his gaze back to the fleeing girl, using her retreat as an excuse to hide his unease. "Wh-what the hell?" He repeated, this time less forceful, more bewildered. Why would he do that? She was just trying to¡ª ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to be more specific,¡± Greg interrupted his train of thought, his snorting laughter punctuating the end of his sentence. He took another swig from his flute, the cider fizzing at the edge of the glass. "You talking about her dress? Cause I couldn''t believe it either. That shade of pink with her skin tone? She must be insane, right?" Theo simply stared, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. ¡°Y-yeah,¡± he blinked, dazed by the sudden shift before shaking his head and shooting Greg a strange look. ¡°What? No! What?¡± Greg responded with a nonchalant sigh, an amused snort passing his lips as he took another sip of his cider. His brows arched in a silent challenge, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I don¡¯t know, man, I¡¯m just saying shit. I¡¯m bored. You¡¯ve been giving me nothing to bounce off of this whole night.¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Theo started, but his voice tapered off into an uncertain whisper. He could feel the walls of his self-assuredness crumbling again, his stoic expression giving way to a faint hint of insecurity. ¡°I¡¯m sorr-¡± ¡°Wow, boring and a liar,¡± Greg interrupted, the words slicing through the silence between them. ¡°Great combo there, Theo. Girls love that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not ly-¡± Theo¡¯s protest got lodged in his throat, strangled by the intensity of the look Greg was shooting at him. It was a look that made his father''s stern gaze seem mild in comparison. Under the glittering light of the chandelier, Greg''s eyes sparkled with an unfathomable depth, his stare probing into Theo''s very being. ¡°Really? We both know you don¡¯t like talking to people,¡± Greg stated matter-of-factly, as though he was discussing the weather, and not unearthing Theo''s deepest insecurities. He chuckled, a sound that carried a hint of amusement. His eyes, half-lidded and playfully challenging, met Theo''s. ¡°Come on, you don¡¯t even like me right now, forget about talking to me.¡± In the face of such brutal honesty, Theo was rendered speechless. The cold truth echoed in his ears. He''s right. Gathering his thoughts, Theo muttered, ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been kind of harsh all night. When you haven¡¯t been mean, you¡¯ve been talking over me or for me. Can you blame me?¡± Greg''s response was a hearty laugh, a row of teeth ¡ª unnaturally bright ¡ª gleaming in response to Theo''s confession. ¡°No, I really can¡¯t. No hard feelings, but I like that you have good reasons for it. I knew it, you¡¯re a real thinker.¡± Theo blinked, taken aback by Greg''s acknowledgement. ¡°Do you?¡± ¡°I do. I also know I¡¯m being a dick but it¡¯s really hard for me to stop sometimes. Especially when I¡¯m bored.¡± Greg confessed, his words hung in the air between them, a tacit admission of his flaws (albeit a tremendous understatement of one). He ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips before he fixed Theo with another intense stare. His voice dropped to a low whisper, loud enough for only Theo to hear. ¡°I¡¯m really bored, Theo.¡± His confession fell heavily in the silence that ensued, creating ripples that slowly diffused into the awkward tension hovering between them. The admission was startling, not for its content but for its candidness. For the first time that evening, Greg wasn¡¯t trying to play any games or hide behind a mask of bravado; he was simply being himself ¡ª bored, disgruntled, and surprisingly human. The realization stirred a sense of sympathy within Theo. "...We''re at an art gallery," the pudgy blond retorted, his tone laced with a note of disbelief. He deliberately swept his gaze around the space, taking in the high ceilings, the serene colors and the art pieces adorning the walls. "I don¡¯t know what you expected." A genuine laugh bubbled out of Greg, a sound that was more heartfelt and authentic than the previous ones. For a moment, Theo saw a hint of the old Greg in that laugh. The taller blond swiftly drained the rest of his cider and Greg lowered the now empty glass to the table before swiveling back to face Theo. ¡°See, that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. This is the Theo I missed.¡± Theo¡¯s gaze hardened behind the lenses of his glasses, scrutinizing Greg for any signs of deceit. ¡°You didn¡¯t miss me. You barely even thought about me.¡± ¡°Guilty,¡± Greg confessed unabashedly, his tone devoid of any remorse. ¡°Mean.¡± ¡°Sue me.¡± Theo couldn''t suppress a snort of laughter, despite the seriousness of their exchange. ¡°My dad has the best lawyers in town.¡± Greg mirrored Theo''s action, his own snort a mockery of Theo''s threat. ¡°Your dad¡¯s not like mine. He doesn¡¯t even give you an allowance, you¡¯re not touching his lawyers.¡± ¡°...True,¡± Theo admitted after a moment''s hesitation. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, the reality of his situation hitting him anew. "At least I see my dad, though." He realized what he had just said and the sharpness of the words hung in the air between them. His heart hammered in his chest as he clamped his mouth shut, trying to conjure up an appropriate apology. That was crossing a line, he had gone too far- ¡°There¡¯s the Theo I missed!¡± Greg''s laughter echoed through the gallery, his hand landing on Theo''s shoulder in a light clap. The impact jolted Theo forward, a sudden sting blossoming on his back from the unexpected blow. Holy hell. He regained his balance and lifted his gaze to meet Greg''s eyes, relief washing over him as he noted the other boy was still laughing. Maybe he hadn''t messed up after all? ¡°God, I¡¯ve been waiting for you to say something like that,¡± Greg retorted, his smile so bright it seemed to illuminate the gallery. There was no hint of annoyance or anger in his demeanor, despite Theo''s previous comment. Instead, he looked genuinely amused, as if Theo hadn¡¯t just left an emotional jab hanging in the air between them. ¡°Can¡¯t believe a dad joke did it.¡± Theo blinked, stunned by Greg''s reaction. His heart rate slowed down, his clenched hands relaxing at his sides. Maybe this wasn''t a total disaster after all. The thought brought a faint smile to Theo''s lips. Wait a second¡­ The cogs in Theo''s mind began to turn as he caught onto Greg¡¯s last words, his brows knitting together in a contemplative frown as he put two and two together. ¡°So¡­ let me get this straight. This whole night¡­ the Wards, the girl, making fun of my weight, it was all just to make me insult you back?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Greg hissed slightly, teetering his hand side to side. ¡°In the spirit of honesty, that was just me being me. But you were like five percent of it.¡± ¡°...only five?¡± ¡°So conceited, Theo. It¡¯s been three years. My life doesn¡¯t revolve around you,¡± Greg replied with a scoff for emphasis. ¡°Get over yourself.¡± I don¡¯t know whether I like him a lot or I dislike him a lot right now. Another question on his mind spurred Theo forward. ¡°But why were you so mean to the girl?¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± Greg¡¯s smile faded for a moment. ¡°Well, three reasons. One, I¡¯ve decided that I no longer like brunettes. Two, that was actually way too much pink for me to deal with. No idea what she was thinking. And three¡­¡± Theo blinked, watching Greg fall quiet all of a sudden. The other boy lowered his head, his smile vanishing completely. For a moment, they sat there in silence, Greg''s piercing gaze threatening to bore a hole through the white tablecloth. Finally, Theo mustered the courage to probe further. ¡°And three?¡± Greg raised his head, blinking slightly. ¡°What? Oh. Three¡­ I have a girlfriend.¡± The words left his mouth in a matter-of-fact tone. A trace of a smile formed on his face, but Theo couldn¡¯t help but feel that it didn¡¯t quite reach Greg''s eyes. ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Theo offered, attempting to lighten the mood again. ¡°She¡¯s a model,¡± Greg added, his tone nonchalant. ¡°...Lucky,¡± Theo replied, suddenly feeling his own mood falling. ¡°She¡¯s also in a coma.¡± ¡°...¡± Theo blinked. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Greg continued to smile at him in that same empty way. ¡°It was my fault, anyway.¡± Say something. Say something. Say something. ¡°...I have to use the bathroom.¡± Not that. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have said that last bit, Greg remarked to himself blandly, head tilted to the side as he watched his godbrother scurry away. Ah, well. Theo''s hasty retreat was almost comical to Greg, the way he darted through the crowd, looking like a fat little blue mouse running from a cat. He could almost picture a tail poking its way out of the back of his suit, even. As Theo disappeared into the sea of people, Greg felt the pull of the conversations around him, especially the animated talk his mom was engaged in. Yeah, of course she¡¯s still laughing it up with Uncle Max, he mused, noting his mother''s smile and the flirtatious vibes emanating from his godfather. The sight annoyed him. Do they think I can''t see? Normally, he wouldn¡¯t have to strain his ears too much to pick up on their conversation, even as far away as they were, even with the din of so many other voices and the music being played. But words remained just out of his reach, their back-and-forth overshadowed by the fierce rhythm of blood pulsing in his ears, like a drumbeat drowning out a whisper. Alright, enough with Mom and Uncle Max. Time for some distraction, Greg thought, as he took a deep breath to center himself. The blond shifted his gaze, his focus extending outwards like a net across the room. At first, it was the usual ¨C glints of diamond necklaces, the shimmer of silken gowns, the sparkle of polished cufflinks. But then he started to catch some intriguing details, the kind that most would never notice. Two tables away, an older woman carefully tried to wipe a wine stain from her pristine white gown with a napkin. Her futile attempt only made the stain spread more, creating an unintentional piece of abstract art, one she didn¡¯t enjoy by the look on her face. A couple was engaged in a hushed argument near the balcony doors. Despite their whispered tones, Greg''s heightened hearing picked up the man''s mumbled apology about forgetting their anniversary and the woman''s sharp glare and immediate harsh insult. Further away, by the grand staircase, a pimply teenager ¡ª seventeen? eighteen? ¡ª in an ill-fitting suit covertly fiddled with a flask. The guy¡¯s sneaky glances and the amateur hour attempt at stealth was enough to put a smirk on Greg¡¯s face. Near the entrance, a waiter precariously balanced a tray of champagne glasses, one teetering on the edge. Greg almost willed the glass to fall, just for the minor chaos it would create. And just like that¡­ ¡°Oh n-!¡± Perfection. For a moment his smirk grew into an outright smile, but then- ¡°Max, you¡¯re too much, I swear.¡± The sound of his mother''s giggle, distinct and vivid, pierced his concentration. Like a magnet, his gaze was forcibly drawn back to her and his expression twisted back down. He wanted to pull up a seat right between the two of them, really he did. To disrupt their conversation, slide in between them, and maybe throw a few sarcastic remarks. But, there was that lingering fear - what if I lose my cool? What if, instead of a frown or a regular glare, his eyes flashed back to dragon mode for everyone to see? A frown¡¯s one thing, but dragon eyes aren¡¯t so easy to ignore. The dragon eyes were worrying enough on their own, obvious as they were. Even worse, they weren¡¯t something he could simply shut down anymore. Not since¡­ ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
[Anger] negated by Gamer''s Mind [Anger] negated by Gamer- [Anger] negated by G- [Anger] negated b- [Anger] negate- [Anger] nega- [Anger] ne- [Anger] n- [Anger] [Anger] [Anger] [Anger] "FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Shutting down Gamer¡¯s Mind like that had consequences, apparently. Not that he could have known, really. He should have figured given how he was barely in control of himself until he found Sparky. Turning that blond guy on the roof into a bloody mist might have been a sign too. But either way, shutting down Gamer¡¯s Mind by force of sheer rage had left him with something, a trait, one he wasn¡¯t sure of how to manage.
Dragon King''s Rage The ancient wrath of Dragon Kings courses through your veins, waiting to be unleashed.. When threatened or challenged, this mighty rage awakens, granting you greater strength and more access to your lineage the longer you let your rage burn unabated, along with the will to vanquish any who stand in your way.
He could feel it even now, even with his anger at a minimum, the way his senses seemed to be dulled and he couldn¡¯t actually make out what they were saying. It''s not that the conversation¡¯s over my head. It''s just... Greg''s thoughts trailed off. The rush of blood in his ears was just drowning out their words. His lips twisted in distaste as his mom giggled again and Max leaned in closer. Maybe Dad wasn¡¯t entirely full of shit. Uncle Max can be such an assho- But mid-thought, a sensation drove everything else to the back of his mind ¨C a tingling, an alarming pulse crawling up his neck that screamed danger. He was familiar with this, all too familiar, and it never promised anything good. Oh, come on, what the fuck n- The posh atmosphere shattered faster than a lightning bolt, and speaking of which, ZAP, ZAP! Twin bolts flashed through the air, transforming the luxurious windows of the twenty-sixth floor into shards that glittered like diamonds and sending the shining ceiling-perched centerpiece of the room shattering to the floor. Honestly, that chandelier was overrated anyway. As the echoing screams of the once-relaxed guests punctured the silence, two monstrous, spike-studded dogs bounded through the shattered windows, their thudding steps and rumbling growls vying for attention against the rising screams of the audience. And as if on cue, Greg''s gaze rose, recognizing the unmistakable figures perched atop these living tanks:
Bitch Lvl 22 Villain: Undersiders(?) Title: Alpha Bitch HP: 250/250 Power: Canine Morphogenic Augmentation Think your chihuahua''s a handful? This bitch turns them into demons from hell. Word of advice: Don''t ask her for dog training tips unless you want your pet to eat your car. The only thing nice about her? She really likes dogs. Regent Lvl 18 Villain: Undersiders(?) Title: Heartless Prince HP: 175/175 The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Power: Neuromotor Hijacking Making people trip over their own feet, Regent''s the kid who turned twitching into an art form. Just like you, he has daddy issues out the ass, but his are more justified. He¡¯s a terrible cheater in video games, though.
You two? He hadn¡¯t seen the two in well over a month, not since the first time he had fought Lung, and the Undersiders had decided to finish the job the dragon man had started. Last he heard from PHO, the team had gone to ground after the Protectorate had arrested the other two members of the team, the supposed leader and his Thinker. What are these assholes d- For the third time in three times as many seconds, another interruption stopped Greg short, this time in the form of a third intrusion into the Forsberg when, as usual, the universe decided to up the stakes. To the right of the dynamic duo, another colossal figure burst through yet another window, looking even more menacing and at least half again as big. A giant beast slammed into the gala, the monster tables flying as its weight made the ground rumble and the floor noticeably creak. Greg''s inner commentary, never one to be silenced for long, leapt to the forefront. Huh, was his first thought. That¡¯s a big bastard, came the second, right on cue. And a big bastard, it was. The creature was like something out of a fantasy novel''s fever dream. With a tortoise''s black shell, red-scaled muscular legs that whispered of a dragon''s might, wings flaunting feathers that seemed to flicker between red and black, and a head like a giant lion, it was a chimera in every sense. To top off this bizarre ensemble, a line of electrically charged, knife-like teeth as black as the monster¡¯s shell gleamed menacingly. On top of that, its back was hollowed slightly, shaped perfectly like a massive saddle, a perfect platform for riders to sit. And sit, they did. A long-haired, caramel-skinned teen in a magician¡¯s suit, complete with top hat and red vest rose to his feet atop the lion-turtle-dragon¡¯s back, followed by his two companions; a short female figure fully enclosed in a suit of black armor emblazoned with red suns with a helmet and visor as well, and a square-masked, black armored male, costume filled with padding and pockets, looking something like a college football player in the wrong setting.
Trickster Lvl 24 Villain: Travelers Title: Prestidigi-Dickhead Power: Spatial Displacement Equivalency HP: 205/205 The ultimate bait-and-switch conman. Misplaced your keys? Maybe Trickster. Misplaced your wallet? Probably Trickster. Misplaced your grandma? Definitely Trickster. He¡¯s also a monsterfucker. Best not to ask. Sundancer Lvl 45 Villain: Travelers Title: Searing Hot Power: Solar Sphere Generation HP: 160/160 Sundancer. Because who needs a beach day when you can get a third-degree burn just by saying hello? Don''t forget your sunscreen¡ªor your flame-retardant suit. Ehhh, you¡¯ll be fine¡­ probably. Fun fact: her nickname was giraffe in middle school. Ballistic Lvl 32 Villain: Travelers Title: Gunslinger? HP: 315/315 Power: Kinetic Propulsion Imbuement Who throws a car, honestly? Ballistic, that''s who. If it''s not nailed down, it''s ammo. If it is nailed down... it''s probably still ammo. Pretty cool guy, actually. Honestly would rather be a hero but he¡¯s surrounded by dicks.
Quest Gained! Travel Plans The Travel-Siders have decided to crash the gala. A gala full of heroes. Why? I don''t know. Just stop them. Objectives - Defeat the Travelsiders. [ ] - Do not expose your identity. [ ] Rewards: 15000 XP, $5000
Fucking great. Well, I did say I was bored, Greg thought sarcastically, his instincts kicking into high gear. Quickly sliding into the shifting, nervous, chaotic crowd as the one in the tophat - Trickster - began to speak, Greg snapped his head from side to side, his eyes quickly noting his mom was safe and secure behind several PRT troopers with his uncle Max and the two blondes that usually hung around next to him. Okay, mom¡¯s safe... for now. A moment later, his eyes narrowed as his head continued snapping side to side, looking for a place to do what needed to be done. Change. Need to change now. His keen eyes began a rapid scan, darting across the vast hall, mapping escape routes through the shifting maze of panicked guests. Every second mattered. Finally¡­ Hallway! His eyes widened as he spotted the side hallway, seemingly unnoticed by others as the rich people of the Bay stared like frozen deer as the youth members of New Wave and the Wards stood side by side with the few Protectorate members that had chosen to attend, all of them in a standoff with the intruding villains. Quick change time! Determined, the teen began his careful navigation through the crowd. People stumbled, tripped over each other, or stood rooted, their facial expressions ranging from shock to horror. Greg ducked under an outstretched arm here, uprighted a falling woman there, his every move as instinctive as it was careful. As the distance to the hallway dwindled, snippets of panicked conversations reached his ears, a surreal backdrop to the unfolding scene. "Is that... are those villains?" "What do they want?" ¡°I paid $800 to be held hostage!?¡± "I knew I should''ve stayed home!" Honestly, same, Greg mused. And then he was there, the hallway just a leap away. But before diving in, he threw one last glance back at the scene. Heroes and villains, poised in a tense standoff, neither having made a move yet as Trickster continued to speak. Okay, Greggy-boy, let''s not keep the audience waiting. Diving into the hallway, Greg could feel the pressing weight of time on his shoulders, coupled with the muffled sounds of commotion seeping in from the gala. But in the relative dimness of the corridor, he spotted the bathroom sign at the very end. Less chance of getting caught in there, right? The low hum of his danger sense thrummed in the background as he paused to consider the bathroom, like a distant warning bell. So useful sometimes. What would I do without you, Danger Sense? He thought with a bitter laugh. With a quick blurring sprint, he approached the bathroom and, without ceremony, he flung the door open. "Anyone in here?! Anyone?" His voice was deeper, rougher ¡ª booming even ¡ª his best attempt to sound possibly scary and full of authority. The bathroom, far more polished than he''d expected ¡ª Must be all those rich people''s donations put to work ¡ª echoed back his query. But silence was all he received in response. It was an arena of sparkling tiles, chrome fittings, and pristine stalls. Hesitating only for a moment, Greg stooped, peering under the partitions in search of any sign of life. No feet. No movement. Nothing. Empty. Jackpot. "Alright, the coast is clear." His normal voice sounded almost foreign in the reverberating stillness. Straightening up, he faced the mirror and met his own blue-eyed gaze. You''ve got this, Greg. Just another fight. This time, your mom is watching. No big. Greg took a quick breath, a simple moment of quiet in the echoing silence of the restroom. A second later, he spoke with a practiced ease, "Inventory: Hardkour Gear." There was no grand gesture, no long-drawn ceremonial process. Instead, his suit vanished in a visual burst, a pixelated cavalcade of blue light. What it left behind was the menacing white-eyed sight of Hardkour, the notorious ninja-esque cape that many in the city had grown to recognize. He leaned into the mirror, absorbing the familiar image. Red mask-helmet combo; a scarf that fluttered invisibly in the still air; gloves in the same deep red; the protective allure of a black motorcycle jacket and jeans that seemed just tight enough to look good but not hinder his movement. Looking sharp, Greg, he thought, mental voice smug. But then the mental alarms started sounding. An internal chime of rational thought that seemed to scream, The fuck are you doing? He groaned, voicing his frustration with a breath as his gloved palm met his face, the slap echoing slightly. "Shit, I can''t go out there with this on," he hissed, eyes darting to his own reflection. "There¡¯s Protectorate and PRT everywhere. They¡¯re going to pounce on me faster than cats on a laser pointer. I¡¯m wanted for like a dozen counts of homicide or whatever that bitch Battery said.¡± He blinked, a memory flashing through his head ¡ª a chaotic night that hadn¡¯t yet hit the news. ¡°Make that a couple dozen.¡± Without a second thought, a wave of his hand and a clear command: "Inventory: White Knight Armor." Another vivid blue burst. The transition to knight was rapid, a flare of light and a new avatar stood where the ninja once stood. A resplendent armor of blue, white, and gold shimmered around him. Now, Greg was enrobed in gleaming armor ¡ª a blend of blues, whites, and golds. A radiant blade materialized in his hand, the centerpiece casting an otherworldly glow that shifted the atmosphere, casting the room in its own ethereal glow. Cool as hell, he thought, momentarily distracted by its magnificence. But reality, as it often did, nudged him back. Holding the blade and swinging it around with an ease that belied its lethal capability, a thought gnawed at his brain. "I can''t go out there with this," he muttered, wiggling the blade playfully, its sharp edge catching the overhead lights. ¡°My baby Gram cuts through metal like butter and Lung like he¡¯s made of cheese. The idiots out there...¡± he trailed off, his thoughts unraveling. "They¡¯re kids like me. Maybe I''d maim ¡®em a little," he admitted, only half-joking, "but I don¡¯t want to end them." Think, Greg. Think. In a split-second decision, Greg decreed, "Inventory: ... New Suit." As if pulled from the void, a costume seamlessly tailored itself to his form. The blue light performed its routine, pixels skimming across every curve and muscle; up, down and sideways, simultaneously, cascading, shaping, and then disappearing to reveal the newest ensemble. He took another moment, one last self-assessment in the mirror. He let his eyes slide up and down the reflection before him, an appreciative grin slowly spreading across his lips till it was as wide as any other. Damn. Not bad for a last minute dye job, not bad at all. With a confident wink to his mirror counterpart, he quipped, "Well, aren¡¯t you looking damn fine?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C As the door to the bathroom swung shut, a raspy inhale of breath could be heard from the middle stall. Hands clambered for the door handle and the stall swung out, the chubby figure of one Theo Anders stumbling out red-faced and gasping. He glanced around, clear surprise and shock written on his face before glancing up at the ceiling. ¡°What the fuck?¡±
Greg Lucas Veder
Age: 15 (and three-quarters!)
Title: None
Level 33 Experience 10500/70000
Health 3500/3500
Mana 1350/1350
Willpower 1330/1330
STR 232 SPD 140
VIT 209 INT 94
WIS 22 (-70%) CHA 33(+9) (-90%)
Stat Points: 0
Perk Points: 0
Cash: $2550
Traits Asperger''s Syndrome: Ever since you were a little kid, you''ve always been a little bit off. Impulsive, obsessive, socially obtuse and emotionally needy, you''re a bit of a weirdo. You now know that you have Asperger''s Syndrome. Thanks to the help of a PRT doctor with good advice, you''re now more aware of your own mental state. -70% to total WIS -90% to total CHA. Casanova Bloodline As a Veder man, you have a great smile, natural charm and a confident approach to life that draws the ladies in like a moth to a flame. Your great cheekbones don''t hurt either. It''s how your dad got your mom to go out with him while dating at least three other girls and sleeping with two others, at least that''s what he always told you - even when you didn''t ask - all the time. + 9 CHA Dragon King¡¯s Blood Touch my skin, feel the pattern of my scales. Look into my eyes. Feel the magic of my being. Know that I am dragonblood. You¡¯re more than just dragon-touched, now. For all intents and purposes, you are a dragon, in all but form. The blood of dragons and kings now runs through you. Your scales may yet be soft skin and your teeth may lack fangs, but that may yet change. + 500 HP + 20 STR + 20 SPD Dragon King''s Rage The ancient wrath of Dragon Kings courses through your veins, waiting to be unleashed.. When threatened or challenged, this mighty rage awakens, granting you greater strength and more access to your lineage the longer you let your rage burn unabated, along with the will to vanquish any who stand in your way. (Whisper of the Wyrm Triggered by growing anger, your eyes slit and your nails and teeth sharpen. You''re still mostly human, but with a hint of the power that''s to come. + 25% HP + 10% STR + 5% SPD -10% INT) Dragon King¡¯s Soul One does not need the size of a dragon to have the soul of a dragon. You¡¯ve defeated the Dragon of Kyushu for the second time and proven yourself more worthy of the role of ¡®Dragon¡¯ than he. What does that mean, though? +500 MP +500 Will +20 INT +20 VIT Greater Human The true power of human beings is that we can change ourselves on our own. Pushing yourself past the limits of what could ever be considered human, you have entered into a realm that even the most obtuse would notice as distinctly in-human. (Unlocks perks for STR, SPD, VIT and INT once a stat crosses a benchmark of 200 pts) Nerd-Geek Hybrid Your obsession with video gaming, computers, fantasy/sci-fi literature and 80''s/90''s pop culture has left you in the rare middle of two circles; the obsessive fandom-loving geek and the intelligent, knowledge seeking nerd. Sadly, your hobbies have left you with an aversion to physical exertion. +50% bonus to INT gains -50% penalty to STR, SPD & VIT gains.
Perks Baby Steps (3/3) With Catlike Tread... Allows very light movement across surfaces, allowing you to move or stand on surfaces that would normally not support your weight. Battle Concentration Keeping a calm head during a fight is often all you need. Your experience gain increases by 90% due to your increased focus during battles. Bulwark Facing off against an opponent who far outclassed you has given you an ability to withstand impossible pain in the face of impossible odds. Takes 50% less damage from opponents over five times your level. Burdened Spirit The soul grows through suffering. All Mana Skills increase in magnitude by 2% for every debuff active on you, up to 50%. Capegoat (5/5) Their pain is your burden and boy, is it a burden. Removes harmful status effect from your chosen target by absorbing the negative status, inflicting yourself with a lesser version. Catch! Hey batter, batter. Your SPD is increased by 25% when it comes to catching thrown projectiles. Danger Sense (7/10) My common sense is tingling. You gain a sixth sense that allows you to sense the presence of incoming danger. Darkvision It is pitch black but that doesn''t matter to you. Allows perfect night vision, regardless of the level of light. Developed Mind (10/10) I like to think of myself as enlightened. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 MP for each rank of this perk. Dragon Blood''s Gift What is a knight without armor? A dragon without scales? A lion without teeth? All equipped armor and gear is self-repairing at a rate of 1% a minute, so long as it is constantly being fed mana or will in some manner. Dragon King''s Aura (3/10) A dragon''s breath is both sword and shield. At a rate of 2 MP per second per rank, draw upon your [Elemental] Skills to generate an Aura of Mana that supersedes lesser [Elemental] effects based upon the Skill used and enhances the use of Skills of those [Elements]. Your equipment and body are immune to the effects of the Aura, but your surroundings are not. While your Aura is active, you may also utilize your Elemental Skills as a [Breath Weapon] with no harm to yourself. Fast Healing Just a flesh wound, right? You heal much faster now, regaining Health at a rate of a fifth of your VIT every fifteen seconds. Flowing Mana The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base mana recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 MP/s) Growing Will (10/10) Some people say you''re rather willful. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 Will for each rank of this perk. Greater Iron Body "It''s a good thing I''m so buff, or that fall would''ve killed me. " What is your body made of, exactly? It can''t be anything human. All physical damage is reduced by your level number, applying after all other damage reduction. + Blunt Force-based Status Effects require a Critical Hit to manifest + 10% of blunt damage inflicted totaling less than 5% of innate health is negated. Keen Vision 20/20? That''s weaksauce. The clarity of your vision scales with your INT by a ratio of 2:1. (100%) Lifegiver (10/10) Health is more than just not getting sick. Every time you gain a level, you gain an additional 5 HP for each rank of this perk. Not Quite Dead People die when they are killed¡­ usually. Survive after your HP sinks below 0 and a harmful status effect is active. 10% Chance to recover with full health when HP drops to 0. Savior''s Strength Catch me as I fall! If you''re strong enough to hold an object when you catch it without hurting yourself, you can also catch it without hurting it. Sleep It Off Great advice, honestly. Negative Status Effect durations are lessened by 25% while Asleep. Super-Fulcrum "Let me just lift this bus by its rear bumper." When you lift something that you''re strong enough to pick up without hurting yourself, it doesn''t matter where you grip it. You can lift and move it as a single unit, no matter how the internal stresses should cause it to break. It might still bend or even flop with movable joints, but as long as you can lift it, it won''t break due to how you''re holding it. This won''t stop somebody else from breaking it. Surefooted I don''t trip. Allows perfect traction over any solid ground, eliminating the chance of slipping and falling over your own feet. Swift Learner (5/10) You''re no idiot. You gain an increased amount of experience, increasing by 10% for each point in this skill. Transformation Sequence (1/3) "It''s Morphin'' Time!" By willing yourself to transform, you can equip any full outfit within your inventory, transforming in a flash of blue light, mana glitter and/or a whirlwind of aerokinesis obscuring you. Warrior''s Breath The true power of the Warrior lies in his Breath. Recovering from countless struggle has forced your physical energies into a state of rapid circulation. Your base Willpower recovery rate is multiplied by 10. (1 Will/s)
Titles Dragonbane Knight To hurt a dragon, one must hone their blade till it is sharper than teeth and claws. To survive a dragon, one must temper their armor until none but a dragon can pierce it. To catch a dragon, one must run and jump until both are akin to flight. To slay a dragon, one must become a dragon. + 10% Physical Resistance + 10% Resistance to Fire + 20 to VIT + 10 to STR + 200 to Health + 100% Damage against [Dragon]s. Fear Bringer I Who puts that scare into people? Strikes fear into enemies equal or below 25% your level. Lucky Bastard Fortune smiles upon you. You have experienced good fortune at a time when you assumed all was lost. +??? +??? +??? Man Slaughter...er I It was an accident... right? Direct physical attacks on an enemy with VIT equaling or below 5% of your ST has 5% chance of causing instant death. Low-Class Ninja Hide in shadows and darkness. You''re a ninja! A NINJA! Cool... Increases the effectiveness of Evasion, Acrobatics and Stealth-based skills by 35% and + 5 to SPD STAT. Punisher I Revenge is a dish best eaten through a straw. Increases all forms of damage by 5% to those who do damage to your allies. Squire Training to be a knight, I see? Title grants +15% increased damage with a sword and 15% increased physical resistance when equipped with a sword.
Skills Gamer''s Body (Passive) Lv. MAX Allows you to live life as if were a game. Sleeping restores HP, MP, Will and removes most negative status effects. Gamer''s Mind (Passive) Lv. MAX Grants immunity to mental status effects, emotional and mental trauma and severely dangerous emotional states. Aerokinesis (Adept) Lv 28 "Storm''s a brewin''... Metaphorically too." Exert the force of your air control over the range of a football field and with the raw wind speed of a Category 7 Hurricane. Cost: 100 MP per second of sustained use at maximum range & power. Analyze Lvl Max The more you know... An immediate upgrade to Observe, this Skill grants you added knowledge on the subject in relation to other realms of knowledge you might already possess. Cost: 1 MP Cryokinesis (Basic) Lv 5 Say freeze. Drop temperatures and project freezing air within a range of (2) meter. Cost: 20 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Dash Straight Lv 20 Force equals Mass times Acceleration. You may suck at physics, but you know that much. Through reinforcing the body, you smash your fist into a target while moving at high speed. Damage scales based on distance moved. (1.5x Damage Cap) Cost: 25 Will + 2 Will for every meter Electrokinesis (Minor) Lv 6 A human taser. Impressive? You''ve got the power of lightning at your finger-tips. Sadly, that''s pretty much as far as it goes. Cost: 10 mp per second of sustained use Magnetism (Minor) Lvl 2 Magnets? How do they work? You possess all the power of an office magnet toy. Cost: 5 mp per second of sustained use Mana Barrier Lv 10 Some kind of force-field! The power to generate and manipulate defensive fields of arcane energy as a projected construct of your Mana. When using this Skill, your barriers can negate and/or deflect all physical damage up to a certain level. Any damage above the negation level shatters the barrier immediately. Warning: Strength of barriers can decrease proportionally and drastically with complexity. Cost: 50 Mana Mana Bolt Lv 10 Magic Missile for the uninitiated. A projectile of raw kinetic force that flies with incredible speed toward your chosen target. Damage: INT + (Skill Level x 5) Cost: 100 MP Mana Glitter Lv 10 Sparkle like the pretty bishounen you were always meant to be. Or a princess. Or a pedophilic slightly-rapey vampire. Who''s judging you? Release particles of mana from your body in the form of iridescent sapphire sparkles. Max Range increases by half a meter per level. (5.5 meters) Cost: 1 MP per second Mana Platform Lv 10 I call it walking on air. Using raw mana, you create semi-solid platforms under your feet that last only as long as you remain still. Platforms double in size every five levels. (1 m) Cost: 1 MP per 2 seconds Pyrokinesis (Adept) Lv 8 Great Balls of Fire! You''re a walking firestorm, the ability to launch enough flame at once to set an entire building ablaze from hundreds of feet away. Cost: 250 MP per second of sustained use at max range. Raging Combo Lv 18 A blistering barrage of belligerent blows built to batter baddies. By repeatedly using weaker forms of Angry Straight, you pummel your target with raw frustration and anger. (36 Hits) Cost: 65 Will Reinforcement (Acolyte) Lv 10 Enhance your physique to new levels, your body and soul working in tandem. Reinforcement imbues you with the efforts of the physical aspect of your soul given form, pushing your actual body to heights it might never had reached otherwise. Increases your effective strength and speed by 200%. Improved control means that weaker usages of Reinforcement is within your grasp for lower costs. Increases your effective strength, speed and resistances by 5% per level with this technique. (250%) Cost: 5 Will/s Subskill: Burst Cast from hit points. Yeah, it''s one of those skills. A short, yet extremely concentrated and focused burst of Reinforcement applied to the extremities for an insane burst of ability lasting 2 seconds. x 3 top Reinforced SPD/STR Cost: 50 Will, 50 HP Subskill: Layer Reinforcement To improve on an item is to improve the very soul of it. Increases the quality of non-living items, increasing their sharpness, durability, and hardness. This form of Reinforcement can be used on non-living substances for a multiplier of ten. Surface Adhesion Lv 20 You ever wanted to be Spider-Man? Don''t lie. Of course you did. This skill allows you to stick to walls and hang on to ceilings and vertical surfaces without a risk of falling. While not denying gravity, this allows you to adhere to surfaces unaided. Cost: 2 MP per second Structural Analysis Lv 20 Judging the concept of creation, Hypothesizing the basic structure... Grants the ability to gain a rudimentary understanding of the internal structure and functional design of simple, non-living objects. Cost: 2 mp per square half-meter of object. Subskill: Physical Analysis Allows an innate understanding of the human body with the levels of complexity based on the progression of the primary skill, Structural Analysis. Weapon Charge Lv 23 Conceptually do twice as much damage with a weapon. Broken? What''s that mean? Boosts weapon damage x 2. Length of charge increases by 1/2 second for every level. (11.5 sec) Cost: 8 MP
Abilities Acrobatics Lv 50 Parkour! An ability that enables you to pull off backflips, frontflips and any manner of jumping-based ground-movement technique with greater ease. Awareness: Willpower Lv MAX Willpower, ki, chi, qi, stamina, aura, mantra, physical energy, life energy, od, or even hamon¡­ Call it what you want. It''s all the same in the end. You have gained awareness of your Willpower, the physical energy found within all living organisms. Gaining awareness of your physical energy has given you some semblance of control over it. Ballroom Dancing Lv 1 I wouldn''t call it dancing yet. More like a full-body dry heave set to music. Represents your skill in the art of dancing in a fancy, romantic manner when with a partner. Anatomy: Intermediate Lvl 5 The quickest way to a man''s heart? Directly through his ribcage. Gain a more experienced understanding of the human body and how interconnected systems function. [Status Effects] become easier to inflict in melee combat by 2% every level. (10%) Basic: Increases [Critical Hit] damage by 10% per level. (100%) Beginner Combat Lvl 24 I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times. The next level of combat, Beginner Combat is a fusion of fighting and footwork into the ability to learn new styles of combat, fusing them into a novice martial combat capability. Increased bare-handed damage by 2% per level. (48%) Blunt Weaponry Lv 5 Carry a big stick. Speaking softly is optional. Measures your skill with using a blunt weapon. Increases damage with a blunt weapon by 2% per level. (10%) Breath-Holding Lv 30 Asphyxiation is a terrible way to die. Increases time able to stay conscious without air by 30 seconds per level. (15 min) Bullshitting Lv 8 First, you tell a lie; then you believe it; then you become it. Increases chances that any lie you tell is successful by 2% with every level. (12%) Cooking Lv 18 Some people are just born to cook and talk. People have been cooking since the discovery of fire. Who knows what you could create if you put your mind to it? Disarm Lv 18 Take their weapon from their warm, living hands. Increases chance of disarming the enemy by 2% with every level. (36%) Driving Lv 4 (XP: 25%) NASCAR, here we come. Measures your skill at operating a four-wheeled motorized vehicle. Gunplay: Handguns Lv 8 Possibly more than the automobile, the handgun is synonymous with America. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a handgun by 5% per level. (40%) Improves damage with a handgun by 2% per level. (16%) Gunplay: Rifles Lv 4 Slightly better than a stormtrooper. Improves aim/accuracy/stability with a rifle by 5% per level. (20%) Improves damage with a rife by 2% per level. (8%) Intimidation Lv 25 If you want to control someone, all you have to do is to make them feel afraid Strike fear into the hearts of man and throw them off their guard, allowing you to score critical hits much easier. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by 1% every level. (25%) Kissing Lv 8 Looks like practicing on a peach actually paid off. Represents your skill in the art of smooching. Language: Japanese Lv 25 Gratuitous Japanese indeed. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Japanese language. Language: Spanish Lv 16 Me llamo Gregory. Reflects your speaking skill, and understanding of, the Spanish language. Manipulation: Mana (Limited) Lv 12 Mana, magic energy, magicka, prana, ether, thaum, spiritual energy, magatsuhi or even chakra¡­ Call it what you want. It all rests in the palm of your hand to command. Your awareness of mana has advanced to an understanding of how to force the energy resting within your mind and soul to your eager and unprepared will. Adds a 1% bonus to effect of all mana-based skills. (12%) Meditation Lvl 32 Breathe in the good shit. Breathe out the bullshit. By finding your inner focus, you push out all earthly distractions and enter a state of mental and physical harmony, allowing a greater understanding of your mind and body. While meditating, your Mana and Will recover at a rate of 10% faster per level into this ability. You retain this bonus for a period of ten minutes post-Meditation. (320%) Parry Lv 18 To deflect an attack is a double-edged sword; Risking more damage for the chance to inflict the same. Increases the effectiveness of any attempt to divert or deflect a physical attack by 2% with every level. (34%) Reflexes II Lvl 1 That''s two bullets. Child''s play. When you can avoid six bullets, then you will have accomplished something. Decreases innate reaction time by .1% per level. (95%) Resistance: Biological Manipulation Lvl 5 Some people like to work with clay, or glass, or wood. Others prefer the mutability of flesh. Measures your ability to resist any attempt to directly control your physical form, referring to skin, nerves, organs or otherwise. Increases by 2% per level. (10%) Resistance: Blunt Force Lv. 71 Going from punching yourself in the face to actual self-mutilation? Bold move, Veder. Let''s see if it pays off. Reduce all blunt force damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (53%) Resistance: Cold Lv 12 The cold never stopped bothering you. Increases resistance to cold temperature by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (12%) Resistance: Electricity Lv 8 Everyone knows electrocution is harmless. Increases resistance to electrical damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (8%) Resistance: Heat II Lv 4 "You have to respect anything that can just stand there, on fire." Reduces heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks up to 200% of health. (4%) + Increases resistance to heat damage by 1% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (75%) Salamander''s Skin I burn... well, not really? Complete immunity to heat damage with a magnitude up to half of 1% of Innate VIT. Resistance: Piercing Lv 41 The thrust or stab is risky because it can kill and yet not stop Reduces piercing or stabbing damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (31%) Resistance: Poison Lv 4 I wonder what counts as a poison... Reduces damage and effects caused by poison by 1% every level that will cause damage less than 100% of your health, in any way, shape or form. (4%) Resistance: Slashing Lv 20 The cut will stop but not kill. Reduces slashing or cutting damage by 0.75% with every level from attacks less than 100% of your health. (15%) Seduction Lv 1 I didn''t mean to turn you on¡­ or did I? Manage to draw the attention of a member of the opposite sex using your innate attraction skills. Increases chance of [Critical Hits] on enemies by .5% every level. (.5%) Singing Lv 5 Stick to doing musicals in the shower for now. Represents your ability to hit the correct notes, harmonize and anything to do with the art of vocals. Sneaking Lv 25 Ugh¡­ stealth missions suck. Allows for 2% quieter movement per level while trying not to be heard. (50%) Stamina Lvl 25 Whatever I lack in talent I have in stamina. Increase Will by + 5 with every level. (125 Will) Swordplay: Single Blade Lv 40 All swords are the same. Represents your martial skill with the art of a single blade. Increases damage with a blade by 2% per level. (80%) Taunt Lv 20 "And this! Is when I taunt you!" Draw the attention of a target through nonsensical, idiotic, but occasionally piercing, verbal attacks. Increases chance of Critical Hits on enemies by 2% with every level. (38%) Thrown Weapons Lv 5 Throwing your sword always works. Except, you know, when it doesn''t. Increases the skill, range and force by which items and weapons can be thrown by 2% with every level. (10%)
Lag 6.20a Lag 6.20a ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The flood of blue light from Armsmaster''s HUD cast a thin hue over his vision, providing an immediate, detailed scan of the chaos unfolding before him. Hellhound Regent, and their monstrous canine companions barricaded the escape routes, while the ostentatious Trickster seemed hell-bent on seizing the spotlight as he stood atop the form of what Armsmaster knew was another member of his team, arms spread. In the seconds that stretched between the breaking of windows and the settling of dust, Armsmaster¡¯s processor-like mind churned with plans and contingencies. While the posh gala attendees reacted with instinctive fear, the seasoned hero mentally dissected the unfolding scene with a detached and razor-sharp focus. Always a show with these ones, Armsmaster ruminated. Decades of experience and meticulous tactical planning had finely tuned his brain, enabling it to function at a level most could only dream of. Within moments, he had already begun to craft a strategy. Seconds passed and the Tinker knew he had to act fast. He could see Glory Girl to his far right staring down Hellhound, and he had very little faith in her ability to not act rashly. ¡°One moment, please.¡± Armsmaster''s voice was measured and even, though his mind raced. The words had barely left his lips as he took a deliberate step forward, arms raised and empty, but he could see the rising tension in the crowd, civilians and Protectorate members alike. The enormous monster loomed, blue sparks crackling menacingly from its open maw but Trickster''s mocking sneer from atop the beast was what kept Colin¡¯s attention. ¡°Does the esteemed Armsmaster want to parlay?¡± Armsmaster''s HUD flickered to life, detailing information about Trickster that the PRT and their affiliates had collected. But beyond the digital readouts, his seasoned instincts knew that beneath the sneer, Trickster was still a child playing at a deadly game. ¡°What I want is an answer.¡± ¡°To a question you haven¡¯t asked.¡± Trickster''s smirk was maddening. Armsmaster maintained his calm exterior, mouth not even shifting past a thin line. ¡°Why here? Why now? Just¡­ why?¡± He queried. The vagueness was intentional. As curious as he was, as to why they would attack a location in which they were vastly outnumbered and with little gain, he needed to keep them talking. ¡°Let me guess,¡± Trickster raised an eyebrow. ¡°You think it¡¯s about the money?¡± Armsmaster didn¡¯t, because it clearly couldn¡¯t be. Anywhere else in the city would have been a better target and a better reward. A hard target like this gala with little to no money on the premises was a terrible idea if money wasn¡¯t the goal. However, he didn¡¯t say any of that. ¡°Money is the usual motive of your group. You¡¯re too young and disorganized to have any grander goals. Am I wrong?¡± The villain in the top hat scoffed, the sharp downturn of his expression letting Armsmaster know he had unintentionally pushed a button. ¡°No grander goals, huh? That¡¯s cute. Shows how much you know.¡± Spreading his arms out wide, Trickster raised his head and scoffed out loud. ¡°It¡¯s not always about the money, Armsmaster.¡± As the youth spoke, Armsmaster¡¯s mind flitted back and forth, part of him absorbing the verbal barrage while another part covertly subvocalized commands to his team. Their pre-set channels would ensure his orders were conveyed without any noticeable sound or gesture. ¡°Dauntless, aerial advantage. Arc Lance on overwatch. Disrupt Trickster by sending sparks around him; to inhibit use and precision. Intercept Ballistic¡¯s projectiles.¡± ¡°Militial, ranged non-lethal. Target Sundancer if she attempts to use her powers. without engaging directly. Can¡¯t risk a fire.¡± ¡°Triumph, sonics on those dogs. Minimal intensity. Too much and they¡¯re in pain and rabid.¡± ¡°Battery, strike Assault full power. Assault, full force redirect into the chimera. Knock it out the window and away from the fight.¡± His internal systems kept him updated: Battery on his left flank perfectly still as she kept her charge up, Militia¡¯s weapon barely wavering from it¡¯s rifle formation on her back as she kept her attention focused on it, and Dauntless, the unfortunate attention magnet, hesitating for just a fraction of a second as his Arclance visibly sparked in his grip. Armsmaster made a mental note, Discuss Dauntless¡¯ stealth ability in our next debrief. Immediately after, his thoughts were interrupted by Regent, the adolescent¡¯s derisive tone cutting through the gala¡¯s tense atmosphere as he held his scepter aloft. ¡°Stalling to keep us talking, Armsmaster? Giving your buddies a little pep talk?¡± The accusation caused visible ripples in his team. Battery''s posture stiffened, Militia¡¯s eyes widened, Triumph''s fingers twitched, and Dauntless, perhaps the most obvious, was like a deer in headlights. Fuck. Armsmaster kept himself still, even as his gaze flicked over to the smirking teenage villain across the ballroom floor. I should have expected this from the Vasil boy. ¡°Now, I¡¯m no Tattletale, God Rest Her Soul,¡± Regent drawled, his voice dripping with mocking sorrow, ¡°but I do know a thing or two about body language. And Dauntless there? Reads like a damn book.¡± The Tinker nearly flinched as Regent''s all-too-accurate observation was like a slap to the face, a reminder that these weren''t just juvenile delinquents. They were threats. Real, calculated, strategic threats. His attention flickered as his HUD continuously updated him, calculating potential scenarios, risk factors, and possible points of engagement. ¡°Stalling, Armsmaster?¡± Trickster cut back in as he and the two teammates beside him dismounted from the monstrous cape they rode. ¡°Just like I said, the heroes of this city can¡¯t do anything when it comes down to it. What¡¯s the point of the PRT and Protectorate when their only plan is to stall, wait, and hope things get better?¡± Armsmaster''s eyes hardened behind his visor as he grit his teeth. Time for a display of authority. Pulling the collapsed form of his halberd from behind him, it extended with a mechanical fluidity. The blade snapped open, gleaming threateningly. ¡°No plan survives contact with the enemy,¡± he retorted coldly, ¡°even if said enemy happens to be children in over their heads.¡± The tension in the room pulsed like an ever-tightening wire, each vibration strumming its impending snap against Armsmaster''s every nerve. The weight of the halberd in his grasp was a reassuring anchor to reality, though, as he stepped forward, subvocalizing to his team again. ¡°Take them down n-¡± ¡°Whoa there, settle down, cowpokes!¡± A voice¡ªinfuriatingly familiar and yet utterly out of place¡ªrang out, lacerating through Armsmaster¡¯s focus. The sound made Armsmaster stiffen immediately, the Tinker nearly lowering his weapon out of shock. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. No. No. No. No. He took in a short, quick, inhale of breath. His analytical core fought back, seeking an immediate explanation. I checked the guest list. There were no tickets bought under that name. ¡°If y¡¯all get to tusslin¡¯ without lil ol¡¯ me,¡± the atrocious drawl came again, the bad Southern accent forcing a slight wince out of Armsmaster. Logically, it would make no sense. The city is still on high alert after Friday night. Only an idiot would show up to a location surrounded by PRT and Protectorate heroes, he attempted to convince himself. No one would e- ¡°...I might just feel a tad nettled.¡± Armsmaster''s gaze snapped upward, following the collective eyes of the room. The incredulity in the room seemed to physically materialize and there it was¡ªup near the chandelier¡ªa form swathed in outlandish purple. Miss Militia¡¯s voice dripped with irony. ¡°Oh, no.¡± Assault, always one to enjoy theatrics, grinned. ¡°Oh, yeah.¡± That minute streak of blond hair peeking beneath the hat was all too familiar. The flamboyance of the entrance, the sheer audacity¡ªit all pointed to one individual. The voice, the attire¡ªit was so incredibly stupid, and yet irrefutably real. The intruder swung slightly on his rope, drawing attention to himself, pulling Armsmaster¡¯s focus like a magnet. A moment of uncharacteristic disarray and he muttered, ¡°Oh, fuck.¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Dangling from that chandelier, he couldn''t help but revel in the stupefied expressions below. God, if I could get exp for cool entrances, I¡¯d be level freakin¡¯ fifty by now, Greg thought to himself as a smirk tugged at his lips. The world was his stage, and the entrance? Well, nailed it. I mean, come on, he thought. Surprising Armsmaster? That¡¯s a tick on the bucket list. But there was work to do, villains to thwart, and maybe, just maybe, an audience to impress. ¡°Hey!¡± Trickster¡¯s voice rang out, filled with a mix of irritation and bemusement. ¡°This is our show! Who the hell are you supposed to be?¡± From his vantage point, Greg could practically see the gears turning in Regent¡¯s mind before he spoke, the mocking lilt in his voice unmistakable. ¡°Yeah, and what''s up with that accent? Are you doing cowboy? Southern gentleman? Make up your mind.¡± Greg''s brows knitted behind his mask. There was a certain art to staying in character, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel the sting of that last one. It¡¯s my first time. I¡¯m still learning this guy. His voice dripped with snark as he shot back, still in character, ¡°Didn''t know we were hashing out opinions here.¡± His gaze flicked across the crowd, trailing past the many faces before they locked onto his mom in the center, the woman knocking back several flutes of champagne on the table nearest her. Oh, come on, Mom. I know you¡¯re stressed but I thought that was done for. Battery''s muttered comment reached his ears, sharp and critical, distracting him from the sight of his mother¡¯s possibly-returning alcoholism. ¡°Why are capes such clown shows?¡± Clown show? Bitch. The words stung, but Greg had learned early on that rolling with the punches, verbal or physical, was the name of the game. He chuckled, an authentic sound amidst the staged bravado. ¡°Always a critic, huh.¡± Regent, forever the antagonist, pounced on his earlier comment. ¡°There! You did it again.¡± His voice held more than a hint of laughter, making it clear he was enjoying the moment far too much. ¡°PICK ONE ALREADY!¡± Okay, enough banter. Greg thought. Time to set the stage. Without missing a beat, he shot back, ¡°Why don¡¯t you try hanging from chandeliers and see if you stick to one accent? Besides...¡± Greg paused, letting his voice drop an octave for theatrical effect, ¡°that¡¯s enough out of you.¡± Leaning into the moment, he locked eyes with Trickster, a sly grin playing on his lips. ¡°And to answer your burning question...¡± With the flourish he had grown used to, Greg let go of the rope. Time seemed to slow as he somersaulted through the air, landing deftly on the polished floor. One hand instinctively adjusted his hat, tipping it just so in a gesture of respect to the heroes present. The other hand, gloved and steady, pointed straight at the Travelers. The atmosphere felt charged, his next words punctuating the silent drama. ¡°Name''s Void Cowboy. Pleasure''s all mine.¡± Greg could almost feel the eyes on him, scrutinizing his every move, every element of his attire, and likely judging him. They hadn¡¯t yet seen what he could really do, but, you know, first impressions. Seriously, I couldn''t have chosen a better day to rebrand. Miss Militia and Armsmaster exchanged glances. Greg could see the silent dialogue passing between them, idly noticing Miss Militia shooting Armsmaster a pointed look, and the man himself palming his face. Wonder what that¡¯s about? As the silence stretched, Ballistic finally broke it, taking a step forward, his boots echoing on the marble floor. "Void Cowboy?" He had a certain incredulity in his voice. "You''re the Void Cowboy?" ¡°Dead on, hombre.¡± Greg answered, swagger in his stance. Sundancer tilted her head, tapping a finger against her visor. "That dude from PHO? The annoying one?"¡°That annoying dude off PHO?¡± Sundancer chimed in. Greg''s chest deflated slightly. "Well, ''annoying'' is one word for it, but I wouldn¡¯t quite say th-¡± A familiar voice, biting and sharp, came from somewhere in the gathering. "So that stupid troll has powers now?" Vista. Oh, great. ¡°Feelings!¡± Greg shot back, accent slipping as he fake clutched at his chest. ¡°He also has feelings!¡± Ballistic leaned in, accusingly pointing. "You got my friend banned. Banned from World of Heroes. For a lifetime." ¡°Your friend?¡± Greg¡¯s gaze flicked from Ballistic to Trickster to Sundancer and back again, unsure who the villain was referring to. ¡°Which one?¡± Ballistic jerked a thumb behind him, directly at the growling dragon chimera with electricity sparking from its teeth. ¡°This one.¡± Greg let out a vague sound of confusion. "That thing is your friend?" Trickster, not one to stay silent, smirked. ¡°That thing has a name.¡± ¡°I mighty don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°What is that accent?¡± Regent, once again, was not one to stay silent. Miss Militia tried to be the adult in the room, clearing her throat like a schoolteacher attempting to restore order. "This isn¡¯t a high school reunion. We have¡ª" "Ma''am," Greg interrupted, holding a finger up. His voice was polite, but his eyes challenged her. "I''m trying to restore my good name here. You can speak in a moment." A single twitch in Miss Militia¡¯s eye spoke volumes, and even Armsmaster seemed to sense the atmospheric shift, his eyes flickering toward her blurring weapon with what you might call concern. "Alright, let¡¯s break this down," Greg began. ¡°Two things there, compadre. Firstly, I wasn''t aware giant monsters played video games. Secondly, are you absolutely certain you have the Void Cowboy?¡± ¡°Lemme refresh your memory,¡± Ballistic replied as the chimera behind him continued to growl louder. ¡°You kept trolling her and pissing her off until she told you to stick your baby dick in a garbage disposal and kill yourself.¡± ¡°Okay that sounds like me.¡± Void Cowboy tapped his chin thoughtfully until... ¡°Nah, still not ringing a bell.¡± Oh! ¡°Now, hold on a darn-tooting moment. Was she the one I called a third rate Cape with a fourth rate build who should get pregnant so she can play phone games like a mom?¡± Ballistic¡¯s nod was tense. ¡°...Yeah.¡± Accent still up, Greg focused his attention on the monster, ¡°Yeah I''m still right, you dragged our raid down.. I''m glad you got kicked.¡± ¡°You dick!¡± With a bellow that was half feminine scream and monstrous roar, the monster lunged. ¡°Genesis, no!¡± And for a split-second, Greg wondered if maybe ¨C just maybe ¨C he should''ve kept his big mouth shut. But then again, where was the fun in that? Lag 6.20b
Lag 6.20b The world around Greg seemed to slide into slow motion, and the bizarre hybrid of a dragon-turtle-scorpion made a ferocious leap right at him, muscles bunched up and launched itself, eyes locked on Greg. From an outside perspective, anyone would''ve thought he was about to become monster chow. Okay, time to impress, Greg thought, as a detached calm settled over him. His arms moved, quick as whips, blurring as they snapped forward, two-finger guns ready to unleash their payload. With the precision of a practiced marksman, he aimed his fingers, and flared his mana to them just the way he practiced. Bright blue energy sparked to life at the tips, and he couldn''t help the confident grin that stretched beneath his bandana. He pulled his thumbs back like the hammers of a pair of revolvers and then ¡ª he fired. Bang. Bang. The world lurched back to full speed. Tennis ball-sized bursts of blue light surged forward, colliding with the hybrid creature in a barrage of energy. And -
+ 1000 XP
What in the...? The dragon-turtle-scorpion thing... just popped, like the world''s scariest balloon. Literally, just vanishing and leaving behind nothing but a shimmer of fading energy trails in its place. He blinked, trying to process. But then it clicked, and the words tumbled out with a Southern twang. "Oh, that''s right?" Greg drawled, wearing a satisfied smirk behind his bandana. The cowboy accent he slapped on made each word a playful jab. "She''s a projection, ain''t she?" While the others were still reeling, caught in that split-second where brains tried catching up to events, Armsmaster didn''t miss a beat. Halberd in hand, the veteran hero charged the momentarily disoriented Travelers. Ballistic, quick on the draw, responded nearly as fast as Armsmaster had. The guy was built like a brick house, and Greg briefly wondered if all the mass went to his biceps or his brain, with how fast his reflexes seemed to be. As Ballistic slapped his hand onto the side of a nearby table, that thought got replaced with a sudden realization that the guy''s power wasn''t just for show. The table took off like a jet, and Greg''s eyes widened in real-time as he danced out of its trajectory as he barely dodged it, feeling the rush of displaced air as it zoomed past. The world might be slow for him at times, but that table? Jesus H. Christ! He didn''t even need his enhanced perceptions to see the table slam into Armsmaster with crushing force. The collision had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer meeting a particularly fragile vase. Poor Armsmaster, fully armored and so high-tech, taken out by wood. Battery seemed ready to jump into action, but Assault got there first. A superhuman punch connected, her fist striking his side, and Assault simply redirected the energy, hurling himself away from Battery like a cannon and into the fight. And then, in a moment that would''ve been comical if not for how serious the situation was, Armsmaster''s airborne body slammed into Assault and before Battery could open her mouth to scream, the two crashed into her in a tangle of limbs. In barely more than a second, the entire trio smashed into a wall, and it was like watching human pinballs as furniture collided around all of them, champagne and table arrangements sent flying. The nearby civilians screamed and scattered, their cries only making the chaos worse. As the world around him dimmed, slowing to a crawl, Greg took a breath and bounded forward at the Travellers but Sundancer was nearly as quick on the draw. With an unreadable expression, she unleashed her power, palms unleashing twin balls of consuming flame. They were the size of baseballs but he could feel the power they held, enough to do incredible damage. One screamed through the thick air towards Greg, while the other mercilessly sought the crowd, where bodies huddled in terrified anticipation. His heart tightened, eyes darting momentarily towards the threatening fireball as it approached the vulnerable mass of people. Mom! The heat from it was intense, searing, but Greg''s reflexes were on point as he summoned his mana again. Without missing a beat, his fingertips became the barrels of twin cannons again, releasing focused, precise blasts of energy. They struck with the unerring accuracy of guided missiles, striking the fiery orbs head-on. And then, the flames buckled, succumbing to his unleashed energy. They died into sparks, whimpering streaks of light that fizzled out, defeated, rendered harmless. Spinning with fluid grace, Greg locked his eyes on a surprised Sundancer. His gaze was a blade, sharp and glinting with the fires of a barely-repressed rage. Seriously? Fireballs? His mind scoffed, even as his body maintained its coiled readiness. Amateur hour, echoed through his mind. His eyes threatened to slit, he could feel it, his gaze wavering between human and something else. I FOUGHT A FUCKING DRAGON! Before he could gather his next thought, his Danger Sense screamed at him. A split second later, something metallic, something heavy, crashed into his skull. He felt his head whip to the side, and tasted the sharp tang of copper. But his body, well-versed in the brutal choreography of fights, moved with the blow. He tumbled through the air, flipping with a kind of grace that defied the violence of the moment, and, in less than a second, his feet found the ground again. Well, that was... something, he blinked. He raised a hand to the side of his head, fingers brushing against his skin. A strange, dazed feeling enveloped him, and there was a muted sort of surprise that his instinctive Adhesion had managed to keep both his bandana and hat stubbornly in place. "Was that..." He tried to shake off the disorientation, feeling like his brain was trying to swim through mud. His eyes glanced downward, meeting the crumpled, defeated form of the instrument that had dared to assault him. "...a tuba?" There was humor in his voice, disbelief. That''s kinda funny, he almost let out a snort at the thought. Fu¡ª And then, he had to dodge again. Seriously? More? His Danger Sense blared again, and he hurled himself out of the way. This time, it was an entire volatile volley of discarded instruments, an orchestral arsenal, each piece hurtling through the air with the speed of a bullet. God, my life is weird. Greg''s eyes were everywhere, catching glimpses of the battlefield in quick, super-speed flashes. Miss Militia, her demeanor as sturdy as the gun she aimed, eyes locked onto Sundancer with rifle in hand as she raised it as her target, and beside her, Dauntless surged forward, his lance aglow with a fierce, electric charge, like a modern-day knight charging into battle. But neither managed to do anything as Triumph appeared out of literal nowhere, a look of disorientation flickering in his eyes. Trickster''s laughter filled the room and just as quickly, the laugh died, suffocated by Triumph''s superhuman roar, the man having been holding it in for a while. It wasn''t just a sound, but a shockwave, a force of nature unleashed unexpectedly. The air trembled, tables upturned, and wood cracked and splintered under the unseen assault of the bellow. The world in that corner seemed to blur, a smear of colors and flying debris as Miss Militia and Dauntless were swept off their feet, hurled like ragdolls. Tables crashed, wood splintered, and through the debris, Greg could see Glory Girl sent crashing to the stage with an unceremonious thud. A monstrous dog, a hulking beast resembling a van on legs, launched at her with the raw brutality of a wrecking ball. The dog''s jaws clamped around her, shaking furiously as Bitch rode the beast, the dog Master growling orders. A second later, a blue wall slammed into its jaw from below, jarring the giant dog and sending Glory Girl skidding across the stage as Shielder rushed in. Laserdream was in her own pocket of hell. Her body was a beacon of radiant determination, hands launching scarlet blasts of concentrated fury as a dog, another behemoth ridden by Regent, faced her on the other side of the room, its monstrous form quivering under the rain of Laserdream''s relentless energy. The creature, in its pained skittishness, kept away from the civilians, directed away by the painful persuasion of searing scarlet energy even as Regent tried to steer the thing away. Shielder? He was putting up a good fight, in the thick of it, embodying his name. His shields, glowing blue and bright, were the walls holding back the beast on the stage from getting closer to the unmoving form of Glory Girl, burying it behind wall after wall to keep it corralled and contained despite its attempts to ram its way free. And here I am dodging fucking tubas, Greg thought with a roll of his eyes. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. But he couldn''t waste time. The battlefield was a mess. Everywhere he looked, heroes were holding back, trying to avoid causing collateral damage and safeguard the civilians caught in the crossfire. The sharp, piercing cry of a violin struck his ear, and he instinctively turned, narrowly dodging another instrument hurled his way by Ballistic. How many more of these things are there? He took off, his super-speed blurring the world around him as he weaved through the chaos, searching for an opening, for an advantage. He wasn''t about to let a tuba or Ballistic''s next choice of instrument take him down. Something''s fishy here, Greg thought, a frown tugging on his lips as he dodged and weaved through the chaos. He could see the patterns, or rather, the deliberate scrambling of them. It was like watching a messed-up game of chess, pieces colliding, crashing into each other instead of taking the enemy down. It''s like they have cheat codes or something. Way too lucky, he mused, feeling the air whip past him as he moved, the rest of the world seeming to unfold in slow motion. Regent? Can he do all this? The younger members of the New Wave were like colorful blurs at the corners of the ballroom, seemingly tied up, keeping Bitch''s dogs at bay. But even they seemed to be stumbling, faltering, like marionettes with their strings suddenly snarled. Definitely Regent, Greg thought, feeling a flicker of annoyance at the interference. Battery, Miss Militia and Triumph were out, crumpled like discarded action figures. Dauntless was somewhere under a rubble of fancy, probably expensive, furniture. Assault was cradling a broken arm and bouncing back projectiles from Ballistic while Armsmaster was occupied, spraying down the effects of Sundancer''s fireballs with a solution from his halberd. The Wards, young and eager, were forming a human wall, shielding the scattering civilians with their bodies, their faces beneath their masks of frustration and helplessness with several of their number already unconscious. Despite his best efforts, he couldn''t really find it in him to feel bad for the knocked out Lady Bug and Vista. Greg took a breath, feeling the rush of air fill his lungs, feeling the energy vibrate under his skin. His eyes were on Sundancer, the pyrokinetic who seemed to love throwing fireballs a bit too much. And as if on cue, another swirling ball of flame was hurling through the air toward him. Alright, cowgirl. Times up. Speed surged through him, and he was there, before the flame could complete its deadly arc. With a flick of his fingers and a flare of blue light, the fireball exploded, harmless embers dying before they touched the ground. And then, he was holding her, one arm firmly around her, and his other hand, fingers shaped like a gun, pressed against her temple. It all happened in a heartbeat, and he could feel her body stiffen in shock at the suddenness of his move. "Now¡­ y''all better stop or she gets it," he said, his voice a mix of teenage nonchalance and the hardness of a seasoned fighter. She flinched, and he could feel the rapid beat of her heart, the heat of her fear mixed with surprise. In the slowed-down world of his speed, he saw the calculations in the eyes of the two male Travelers, the dawning realization of the shifted odds. It was like watching a bad movie, where the villains suddenly found themselves outplayed. Was it bad that he kinda loved shit like this? So, what''s it gonna be, folks? Greg thought, feeling the slight tremble of Sundancer in his grip. The room was a battlefield, scattered with the remnants of what had been a luxurious ambiance. It seemed unfair, the elegant drapes now torn, the polished floor now scuffed and marred. And yet, even in the midst of it all, Greg felt a certain detachment. Too easy. "Y''all can surrender now." Trickster''s reply was wrapped in smugness, "How bout no?" His eyebrows arched at that. He tightened his grip on Sundancer, feeling the beat of her heart against his arm. "I don''t know if you''re blind or what, but I quite literally have your teammate hostage. Y''all don''t care one lick ''bout that? You don''t think you should listen to my orders if you don''t want her hurt?" There was a beat of silence. "No, we march to the beat of our own drum." Trickster smirked, a display of unswayed confidence, pointing a lazy finger over Greg''s shoulder. "But you should care about that." Air swooshed, laced with the signature whistle of Ballistic''s power. A cello, defying gravity and sanity, soared through the shattered window like it was taking its sweet time just to mess with him. Greg''s world slipped into that odd rhythm where seconds stretched as he watched it arc into the air. Really? A flying cello? Cocking an eyebrow, Greg glanced between Ballistic and Trickster, an unspoken challenge hanging in the sudden quiet. "What, that supposed to scare me into letting her go?" A shrug from Ballistic, nonchalant in the face of the chaotic ballet around them. "No, idiot. Trickster just needed something your size." Realization hit him like a ton of bricks as Greg''s eyes widened. "F-" His surroundings flickered, the world shifted, Trickster''s power playing reality like a twisted game of musical chairs. Outside. He was suddenly outside, the stark lines of the Forsberg gallery framed in the window before him. Not good. "-u-" His Danger Sense screamed, a stark warning ringing in his head as he instinctively scrambled in the air. "-ck!" Piano. A full-sized, no-nonsense, lumbering behemoth of a black grand piano, hurled with Ballistic''s brutal force, stormed through the window, a barrage of timber and keys as it crashed into him, delivering a concerto of pain in a minor key. Air whooshed out of his lungs, the world blurred as he rocketed backward. Concrete walls slammed into his back and he bounced off the building, his spine screaming in agony. The ground came next, all the passerby and bystanders waiting outside an unwelcome audience to his unscheduled performance. Dust rose from his sudden landing, leaving him in a haze of pain and disoriented thoughts. They played me¡­ He blinked as he lay there¡­ with a piano. Ha. HA. HA. Greg forced himself onto all fours, his fists slamming into the ground with barely repressed rage and frustration, a voice in the back of his mind laughing its ass off at the craziness. He slammed onto his feet, the world around him a buzzing, chaotic whirl as he tried to keep his balance. Okay, this is a new level of crazy¡­ but I''m fine. I. Am. Fine. A sensation, like a blaring horn, ricocheted through his mind¡ªhis Danger Sense, always so urgent. Greg''s body moved with conditioned speed, swerving away as the wreckage of wood and wire crashed where he''d stood milliseconds before. He glared down at it. Nice try. Then, as if the universe hadn''t quite finished using him as a chew toy, his Danger Sense screamed again. OH GOD WHAT AGAIN??? His body, in pain but alert, spun on his heels and the world slowed, each detail becoming painfully vivid as extremely bright floodlights filled his vision. A metallic monster¡ªa junkyard''s version of a wrecking ball¡ªsmashed into him with force and speed, sending him once more spiraling through the air in a heap of ungainly limbs. The ground came up fast and hard, but it wasn''t the unforgiving concrete that welcomed him¡ªit was a suspiciously convenient pile of garbage. Thankful but confused, Greg pushed himself off the garbage pile only to blink down at his feet. What''s a pile of garbage doing in the middle of the street? The garbage stirred, rumbling and shifting as Greg found himself staring in the face of a rough, bulky form, ugly as sin, and it reeked of more than just trash. "You really don''t wanna do this," he deadpanned. A fist, solid and grimy, connected with Greg''s face.
Quest "Travel Plans" Failed!
+ 7500 XP Skill Gained "Geo-Armor"
Geo-Armor Lv MAX Harness the Elements, Be the Fortress. Surround yourself with an armored exoskeleton made from surrounding debris, its shape and size limited only by mana and focus. Cost: 200 MP/s per second at base (Greater mana investment results in a larger armor)
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "Greg, what happ-" "I fell down some stairs." "But, I d- what stair-" "I fell down some stairs, letsjustgohome." Lag 6.21 Lag 6.21 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Approaching the dilapidated structure of Winslow High, Greg Veder couldn''t help but feel a wave of cynicism wash over him. The school, with its peeling paint and graffiti-tagged walls, stood as a stark reminder of the negligence it suffered, nestled in the heart of Brockton Bay''s Docks South area. The building''s rundown exterior mirrored the city''s gloom, its lack of care evident in every cracked window and rusted railing. School. Great. The thought dripped with sarcasm as Greg took his first step onto the school grounds proper, the air of the campus matching his mood - unenthusiastic and cynical. The pathway leading to the main entrance was littered with trash, just to show how much people cared. Winslow High, despite being the second most populated public high school in the city¡ªsecond only to Arcadia¡ªwas a far cry from adequately maintained. The disparity was jarring. Here was a school that, on paper, received enough funding for its size, yet in reality, it was one of the worst in terms of appearance and upkeep. Despite Winslow looking like shit on a stick, the air around him was charged with the buzz of teenage energy and drama. Snippets of overheard conversations floated around him - gossip about weekend parties, complaints about homework, the latest relationship drama. It was like walking through a live feed of trivial concerns, each one more mundane than the last. A group of students huddled near a graffiti-laden bench, their laughter cutting through the morning air. "Did you see the game last night?" one of them exclaimed, his enthusiasm failing to mask the tired lines under his eyes. "Yeahhhhh, shouldn''t have watched it instead of studying," another replied. His expression, a blank smile lacking its usual intensity, barely changed as he navigated through the clusters of students loitering around the entrance. Despite his nonchalance, Greg couldn''t ignore the whispers and stares that trailed him like shadows, echoes of last Friday''s encounter with some Empire juniors. It wasn''t every day someone stood up to bullies like that, and now he was a walking, talking piece of high school folklore. "...heard he took on three of them by himself," one voice whispered, tinged with a mix of awe and disbelief. "No way, Veder''s just a regular dude," another scoffed, skepticism lacing their tone. "I hear dude''s on the juice." Holding back a sigh, blue eyes roamed Winslow''s grounds as he slowed his approach, in no real hurry to get to the doors, attention falling on a group of eyes that seemed locked in his direction. Girls stared back at him, a few pretending to be on their phones but he could tell by the glances of the half-dozen group that they were looking at him. He glanced down at himself quickly, wondering if he had spilled something on himself during his rushed breakfast. His outfit today was a simple one, one better suited for lazing indoors than school, but he didn''t really care. Throwing on a sky blue t-shirt with a large white exclamation mark on the center of it and a pair of baggy white sweatpants over similarly-colored sneakers, he had simply run out the door after scarfing down some pancakes and eggs. And no stains either¡­ He glanced back up and sighed. Probably nothing. Turning away from the girls as he still felt their attention on him, Greg''s eyes dulled as his thoughts went somewhere else. The night before still weighed heavily on his mind. It was supposed to be his big debut as Void Cowboy, the persona he had meticulously crafted, the one that was truly ''him''. But instead of a grand unveiling, it turned into a humiliating¡­ humiliation. I can''t believe I let myself get punked by some two-bit villains, he thought, frustration simmering within. And a literal trash-tier cape... what a joke. What were the Merchants even doing there? White Knight''s fights with Lung and Hardkour''s clash with Oni Lee had left him feeling like a real, serious cape, and had made him think that Prodigy was up there with the big-leagues. But Void Cowboy? That was a different story. The embarrassment he faced the night before was a bitter pill to swallow, especially considering the effort he had poured into superhero work.. I should have seen it coming, should''ve been quicker, sharper... he degraded himself internally. Greg''s gaze drifted past them, noting the cracks in the pavement, the way the weeds had made a home in the neglected flowerbeds, and the tired, resigned expressions of students trudging their way to the school''s entrance. It was a scene played out in countless high schools, but here, it felt like a prelude to something bleaker. You''d think with all the attention this place gets, someone would bother fixing it up. Passing by a group of underclassmen, he caught a fragment of their conversation - something about a new video game release. He probably would''ve really been invested in that a few months ago¡­ weird. A moment later, as he swerved to avoid another set of giggling girls in his path, his thoughts were interrupted as someone tried to brush past him, a shoulder bashing his own. "Watch it, Veder," an annoying voice sneered. With barely more than a thought to guide his actions, Greg pushed back with his own shoulder, patience wearing thin even as he kept his force minimal. "You watch it, Tenorman," he growled at the boy in the letterman jacket. The jock''s surprise was evident, and the surrounding students couldn''t help but laugh and whisper at the sight of the football player being put in his place. Figures. Satisfied with his small victory, Greg continued towards the school entrance, his mind drifting back to the previous night once more. The embarrassment, the mockery he must be facing on the forums, what PHO was probably talking about, it all gnawed at him. He''d planned to stay offline for a while, to let the heat die down. At least for a week, maybe more. But the replay of his mistakes still burned. He tried to shake off the thoughts, focusing instead on the day ahead. Thinkin'' about it won''t change anything, he reminded himself. Today was a new day, and he''d just have to face it head-on. "Told you to step the fuck back, slant!" Greg''s frown deepened at the slur, the angry word pulling him out of his irritated thoughts. His eyes narrowed as his gaze snapped up, instinctively scanning for the source. Why can''t one day at this place be normal? His thoughts were interrupted again as a kid with a phone in hand clumsily collided with him. The kid mumbled an apology, eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation, clearly more interested in recording the scene than being part of it. What the- Greg followed after and rushed forward, moving no faster than a normal person, and pushed his way into the middle of a small circle already forming around the front doors of Winslow. Both hands moved instinctively as a figure charged in his direction and another nearly stumbled to the floor, his attention barely on his actions before he was already done. In one swift motion, Greg''s palm caught a large fist, stopping it dead in its tracks, while his other hand grabbed the collar of a smaller boy''s shirt, pulling him back to safety. The blond blinked and glanced down, blinking again in recognition at the Japanese kid in his grasp. Huh. He turned his head slightly to face the shocked face of the first student, the other boy still half wearing an enraged grimace. Tall and built like a basketball player, with toned muscle and a shock of blond hair bleached even brighter, he wore a tattered jean jacket over a band t-shirt Greg had never heard but Sparky probably had a poster, trying hard to look the part of a tough guy. Logan? Greg frowned at the thought. Logan Sterling was another idiot that he knew well, the boy one of his usual bullies in the sophomore year that sniffed around Mal and the other juniors in an attempt to be more than an Empire wannabe. He had been one of the outcasts like Greg in the first half of freshman year, almost even something like a potential friend. Considering he seemed to be a fan of Japanese media, manga especially, no one ever figured he would be one for the Empire. That was before puberty hit and he started to bulk up, getting wider and taller enough to be somewhat intimidating to others in the same year. Greg, especially. Or at least, he used to be. Logan''s face, twisted in aggression, slowly melted into confusion as he realized who had stopped him. "Veder?" Greg''s hand tightened slightly on the collar of the other boy''s shirt, his gaze locked with Logan''s startled brown eyes. "Sup, Logan?" Greg plastered a smile onto his face. "Read any good manga recently?" "Look, I didn''t even do anything," the boy in Greg''s grasp tried to argue, wriggling around in his shirt. "I was just trying to get inside." "Yeah, I bet," Greg replied, his tone light but his gaze sharp. He released the boy, who quickly scurried back and away from the action, quickly surrounded by a group of other Asian kids. Logan''s fist, still caught in Greg''s other hand, trembled slightly, the initial shock of being stopped mid-swing giving way to a simmering anger. "Let go of me, Veder," he growled, trying to pull his hand free. The crowd of students around them whispered and murmured, some taking out their phones, hoping to catch a potential fight on camera. "You wanna keep your teeth, Loge?" Several other boys, their hair dyed a noticeable bottle blond, stepped forward from the doorway, surrounding Logan as the boy flinched at Greg''s threat. Greg stood his ground as Logan''s posse, a mismatched group of wannabe tough guys desperate to be part of the Empire, closed in around their leader. The boys flanking Logan were equally imposing in their own way, each trying to puff themselves up to seem more intimidating. One had a buzz cut and a face full of acne, his oversized hoodie hanging off his skinny frame. Another, with a nose that had clearly been broken more than once, wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off his tattooed arms. They all shared the same look of misplaced confidence and anger. Greg finally letting go of the other teenager''s fist, Logan''s face paled slightly as he stumbled back. "Let''s keep it civil, yeah?" His voice was calm but firm, the underlying threat clear. "Civil?" Logan spat, his face full of anger and embarrassment in equal measures. "Yeah, civil. You know, like calm?" Greg answered back. "Too big of an SAT word? My fault." The taller boy growled, puffing himself up even as he remained in place, seemingly hesitant to take a step forward. "The fuck do you think you''re talking to?" "The fuck do you think you are?" Greg shot back with a snort. "You think you''re tough, man? Picking on someone like Hiro?" "Wait, how do you know my na-" "Why don''t you try that with someone your own size?" The blond continued, not letting the other boy speak. "You big enough, bro? Bigger than Mal?" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. "You really think you''re something, huh, Veder?" Logan hissed, his eyes darting around, gauging the reactions of the growing crowd. Greg''s lips quirked into a smirk. "Just think you should pick on someone your own size, Logan. Or maybe find a better hobby." The one standing just behind Logan, a pudgy boy with arms crossed defiantly across his muscle shirt, spoke up. "No fuckin'' ABB in the school unless they pay a fee. Lung and Oni Lee are done, we''re not letting them in for free." Greg hummed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nice rhyme, Dr. Seuss, but freedom is the right of all sentient beings. So is education. Move." "Or what?" Logan challenged, confidence bolstered by his crew. "Or I''ll beat your faces in," Greg responded, grin sharp and dangerous. The threat wasn''t one without heat or weight to it. Last week''s events had spread like wildfire through the school and both Greg and the Junior-Eighty-Eights knew it. On top of that, the public denting of a locker with Mal''s head on top of Coach Wilker''s added gossip of him being on roids had given him a bit of a reputation when it came to being something of a fighter. Not to mention, the added rumor of him beating up Sophia so bad that the humiliation made her stop coming to school. He still wasn''t sure where that came from or why he was supposedly at fault but the rumor mill was like that. "You gonna let him talk to you like that?" one of the bottle-blond boys muttered, his voice laced with uncertainty as he glanced between Greg and Logan. One of Logan''s friends, a wiry boy with a shaved head, stepped forward. "Maybe we should teach you a lesson, Veder." His voice was eager, too eager, like he was trying to impress Logan. Greg''s eyes flicked to him, then back to Logan. "You sure? Right here, right now?" Logan''s resolve visibly wavered as Greg spoke, but he puffed out his chest as he realized all the eyes on him, trying to maintain his bravado. "What''s it to you? Scared?" Greg laughed, the sound coming from a place deep inside him. "Of you? Never. But it was really hard to get blood out of my jeans last week and I''m wearing right now so¡­" Logan took a step back at the reminder of the last fight Greg had been in, his gaze darting around the crowd. The whispers and the watchful eyes of the other students seemed to press down on him, weighing heavily. Suddenly, a voice called out from the crowd. "Come on, Logan, leave it. He''s not worth it." Logan glanced over his shoulder, his expression faltering as he saw the disapproval in some of his friends'' faces. He looked back at Greg, his anger still simmering, but his confidence visibly shaken. He shot a final, spiteful look at Greg before turning away. "We''re not done, Veder," Logan spat out, but the threat lacked heat or venom. The other boys, picking up on Logan''s retreat, exchanged uneasy glances before shuffling away, their own confidence visibly diminished. The crowd, their anticipation for a fight unmet, began to disperse with murmurs of disappointment and curiosity. Greg watched them leave, his posture relaxing slightly as the confrontation came to an uneventful end. Shaking his head, the blond glanced back at the boy he had saved as the crowd slowly walked away and indoors, the fight they had been hoping for not going to happen. The boy Greg had saved broke apart from his friends and gave Greg a wary look as he walked back up to him, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, clearly unsure how to react to the sudden rescue. "No problem, Hiro." Greg shrugged nonchalantly. "Uhhh¡­ do I know you?" Hiro Yasuda, one of his new AGB commanders, asked meekly, shrinking back slightly as Greg suddenly focused his gaze on him. "What was that?" The shorter Japanese teen stared up at him, adjusting his glasses once more as he tried to take in the other boy. "Y-you knew my name? But I don''t know you?" He stepped back slightly, his face blanching slightly as he slowly took in Greg''s taller, more muscular, blond form, probably drawing many wrong conclusions. Fuck meeee¡­ Greg mentally cursed. He had forgotten, for a moment, that Hiro only knew him as Hardkour, not as Greg Veder. He quickly let go of Hiro''s shirt, hoping to diffuse the situation. "No, you don''t. Forget it," he replied with a snort, trying to brush off his slip-up. "Just watch out for yourself, yeah?" "Y-yeah." Hiro nodded, still a bit dazed, and hurried off in the opposite direction. Greg watched him go, his mind briefly wandering to the complexities of his double life. One minute I''m fighting super villains, the next I''m fighting bullies on roids. My life is weird. He pushed past the doors of Winslow and into the familiar dilapidated hallways and flickering lights above as they greeted him like a bad friend, strides slow and unbothered. The lockers lining the walls were covered in posters and flyers, each one screaming for attention despite most people paying them no mind. The chatter of students filled the air, a constant buzz that Greg had learned to tune out. He navigated through the crowded halls, sidestepping a spilled backpack here, a huddle of gossiping students there. He passed a group of juniors huddled around a phone, their laughter loud. One of them caught his eye and quickly looked away, whispering something to her friend. Greg couldn''t help but wonder if they were talking about him, or about Void Cowboy. He pushed the thought away as he approached his locker. No use worrying about what they think. As he spun the combination lock, a figure huddled nearby caught Greg''s eye. The familiar slouch, hidden under a black-and-yellow hoodie and sunglasses, could only belong to one person in the whole of Winslow High. "Hey, Sparkplug." Greg couldn''t help but tease. A grin played out on his lips as he observed his friend, who looked more like a brooding, incognito celebrity than a high school student. "What''s with the glasses, bro?" Axel "Sparky" Ramon, his posture only slightly defensive, lowered his sunglasses a little, showing off a brilliant pair of bright gold eyes that seemed to shine like the sun against the comparatively dull ones above. In fact, they seemed to pierce through Greg, the boy in yellow blinking slowly as he stared. The hooded teenager glanced around cautiously before replying in a slight hiss, "Because fluorescent lights mess with my new eyes, dumbass. Shit''s a bitch-and-a-half to deal with." Man, that''s gotta be tough. Greg barely held back a sigh again, smile fading slightly as something in his stomach left him feeling unsure of what to say. I can imagine, still getting used to the sensitivity. "Yeah, that sounds about right." Leaning against the locker wall, Sparky let out a heavy sigh as he banged the back of his head into some rando''s locker. "On top of that, I''m wearing earplugs and I can still hear just as good as I could before. Shit''s fuckin'' insane, brah." "Yeah¡­" "Like some next level comic book shit." "I know¡­" "Like, I think I''m getting abs?" Sparky''s pitch rose, voice sounding hesitant as a hand cradled his stomach. Greg tilted his head slightly as he shot a glance at his friend, unsure of how to respond to that one. "...nice?" Sparky shot him a weird look back. "I mean¡­ yeah? But in a weekend? That''s fuckin'' weird, brah." Greg nodded as he swung his locker open, the metal door creaking slightly. "You''re not wrong. You know it was the only way I could..." "Don''t," Sparky cut him off sharply, his expression hardening as he raised his head again, sunglasses tilting forward until Greg was faced with his friend''s wolf-like glare. "Don''t apologize. Not for this. I''m the one that snapped and went off rogue. You ain''t try to torture me to death." Greg paused, his fingers hovering over a textbook. What do I say to that? He wondered, his thoughts a whirlpool of guilt and relief. Sparky continued, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice as his grin widened, teeth seeming oddly sharp for a moment as he stood up straighter. "Hell, you killed the fucks that wanted to. ''Sides, I can jump almost twice my height now. That''s sick as hell, I don''t care what else, man." A genuine laugh escaped Greg at the newfound enthusiasm in Sparky''s voice. "Yeah, it''s pretty badass. Just remember, with great power¡­" "We all watched the Eidolon movie. Shut the fuck up," Sparky shot back, unable to hide the small smile on his lips. "I get it, Greg. I''m not planning on going all lone rogue vigilante on you." "Good to know." Greg grinned, relieved. "Just promise me you''ll be careful, okay? We don''t need you getting into any more trouble." "I''ll try," Sparky replied, his tone light but his eyes serious. "but you gotta watch the stones you''re throwing. Don''t wanna fuck up your own house, my boy." "Huh?" He winced as he said the word, the smirk on Sparky''s face undeniable as he realized what he was referencing. "Wai-" "Ain''t that right, Void Cowboy?" Sparky whispered the last three syllables with a growing grin that was entirely mocking. Greg sighed, leaning forward into his locker as he tried to hide his head from his friend''s mocking. He didn''t need enhanced hearing to hear the barely repressed laughter in Sparky''s voice and he certainly didn''t want it right now. "It wasn''t just a joke, y''know. I put a lot of thought into that persona." "Bet you did." He groaned again. "But I did." Sparky let out a pleased hum. "And where did that thought get you?" "Can we not do th-" Greg felt himself being pulled out of his locker by the back of his shirt, the blond allowing the action until he once again found himself facing the grinning face of his best friend. "Can we not?" "Oh, we''re gonna, brah," Sparky shot back. "You lost to the fuckin'' Merchants." Greg winced again. "I didn''t lose to the Merchants. I took down Mush. Squealer and Skidmark drove away and I was not in the mood to chase them down, okay?" Sparky shrugged, glee visible in his eyes as his sunglasses dipped forward. "You got beat up by band instruments and a walking garbage dump uppercutted you. Sounds like a loss to me." There was very little that could make the other boy smile but actually getting on Greg''s nerves for a change was one of them. "A piano missile slam-" Their conversation was interrupted by the bell ringing, signaling the start of homeroom. Students around them began to move with a renewed sense of urgency, heading to their respective classes. "Whatever. We''ll talk about this later," Greg said as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "J-just.. just meet me at Old Industrial tonight." Sparky, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow, his sunglasses once again slipping down his nose slightly. "Why?" he asked, as he adjusted them back on. Greg''se expression shifted from a scowl to a grin, embarassment giving way to excitement at the flip of a mental switch. "We''re going for a run. Trust me, you''re gonna love it." The look on Sparky''s face told Greg very well that his friend was as interested as he was skeptical. "Alright, brah, I''ll bite¡­ but this better be good." Greg chuckled, closing his locker with a final thud. "Oh, it''ll be good." Lag 6.22 Lag 6.22 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? It was amazing how calm a city like Brockton Bay could seem at night. There had to be dozens of crimes occurring all over but this early in the morning, with the sky still pitch-black ¡ª as black as you could get with all the light pollution at least¡ª you could almost imagine that it was actually as peaceful as it looked. "Fu-shit!" Almost. Greg Veder, dressed in his Hardkour costume¡ªa badass ensemble crafted from a motorcycle jacket, pants, leather belts, paired with a red scarf, gloves, and a full-face helm¡ªswirled through the night sky. His body vaulted off the edge of a rooftop, twirling in the midnight air as he spun and flipped with an ease that bordered on disgustingly casual. The city blurred around him as he spun, finding himself upside down, then right side up, sideways and then upside down again as he dropped into a handstand only to quickly flip back up in the same movement. Every single movement, an act of casual defiance against gravity. "You okay, Padawan?" Greg called out, his voice cutting through the night as he settled on a power pole with the grace of a predatory bird. "I told you never to call me that," the reply came from his partner in roof jumping, the other boy clearly trying to mask the struggle, but the words spoken through gritted teeth were a loud, flaring billboard of effort. Unlike Greg''s more intricately designed outfit, Sparky''s was comparatively simple. A hooded tracksuit, in black and yellow, reminiscent of Bruce Lee''s iconic bodysuit with an inverted color scheme, black fingerless gloves and a face mask slapped over his mouth. Yeah, that was Sparky¡ªtrying to channel his inner martial arts legend while leaping over rooftops. "Hey, I''d go with Skywalker," Greg began again, bounding around Sparky as the boy took a moment to catch his breath, "but you''re not exactly living up to the name." Was he being a bit of a jackass? Obviously. However, he wasn''t wrong in his critique of Sparky''s ability either. For Greg, it was all too easy¡ªa blend of monstrous strength and acrobatic elegance, even without his [Reinforcement] skill singing in his veins. Every leap, every flip was done with an almost disgusting level of effortlessness. Sparky? Not so much. Imagine a toddler learning to run. Now, take that toddler several stories up, heart racing, navigating gaps that yawned like open mouths ready to swallow him. A quarter of Greg''s speed, a fraction of his strength, and a choir of anxiety screaming in his every movement. "So, ever considered a less life-threatening hobby? Like knitting, maybe?" Greg shouted, his voice carrying an echo of playful arrogance. "Very funny, Hardkour," Sparky shot back, panting, eyes narrowing with exertion as he tried to keep up with Greg''s rhythm. Greg looked at Sparky, a flicker of genuine concern behind his mask. It''s tough, but he''ll get it. Hopefully without falling down a few stories like an idiot. Ignoring the fact that he had done exactly that for a while and Sparky was doing far better than he had the first time attempting this, Greg continued his roof traversal. He moved fluidly, every leap an effortless demonstration of superhuman ability, his red scarf trailing behind him like a cape All the while Sparky strained to keep up, each motion measured and deliberate. It was during one of these mid-air pirouettes that Greg casually threw a question at his friend. "So, any new changes you''ve noticed since the... y''know, boost?" His voice cut through the night, nonchalant as a stroll in the park, even as he swerved through the city''s rough skeleton of bricks and shadows. A notebook and pencil appeared in his hand¡ªLove you, Inventory¡ªand he scribbled in it while leaping "Boost," Sparky retorted, shooting him a look that screamed ''seriously?'' even with a mouth covered by a black mask. "What else do you want me to call it?" he shot back, scribbling some notes. "I Gregged you up real good, didn''t I? Filled you up with some Greg juices." "Eww." Even behind a mask, the face Sparky pulled was obvious. "Never in your life should you ever say that again." Greg barely held back the urge to wink, aware that his friend wouldn''t see it behind his helm anyway. Cackling, he leapt into the air again, shouting out, "You know you love me!" Sparky crashed down to the roof a second behind him, grunting out the word, "Debatable," as he landed hard. The blond let out an audible snort, shaking his head. "Answer my question though, bro. How you feeling?" His eyes never stopped scanning even as he wrote down what he could already notice on the pad, noting that Sparky''s movements had a new edge since yesterday''s night out on the town. Faster, higher, something edging closer to impressive. Four days. It had been four days since the world shifted on its axis for Sparky, since Greg played savior and architect of his transformation. Two days since his embarrassing first showing as Void Cowboy at the Forsberg. Luckily, Greg had done the smart thing and chose to stay away from the internet, particularly one forum specifically, well aware that he''d be unable to stop himself from getting into internet fights. "Senses still kinda sting a little but it''s easier now," Sparky admitted, rolling his shoulders after a slightly harsher landing. "How did you not fucking lose your mind dealing with this shit?" Greg tilted his head to the side, rolling the question around in his skull for a second or two before he finally spoke again. "Two theories or¡­ at least, two reasons? I guess," he somehow managed to shrug while flipping upside down. "Anyway, my growth was pretty much just a slow ramp up. It took time to get from level one to level five, you know, and I only got like 2 stat points at a time. Basically, my body, me, my soul, brain, meat, whatever, had time to adapt to every level and every point I put in, y''know," the young vigilante paused as he rolled his words around in his head for a moment before just deciding to push through anyway. "Like, dude, my senses are sick but unless I''m actively like using them, y''know, or adrenaline''s pumping, everything''s only a little above normal. At least, I don''t notice it, y''know. Like, sensory extinction, y''know, unnecessary distraction your brain ignores, basic stuff like that." "...yeah, basic. Sure." Greg clicked his tongue. "I''m not gonna pretend I didn''t have a fast start. But you¡­ You went from zero to sixty in literally a heartbeat." The other boy nodded his head a few seconds later, accepting that answer pretty easily. He glanced at Greg as they ran side by side for a few seconds more before finally letting out a sigh and speaking up again. "...the second theory, brah." "Oh," Greg snorted at that, the sound petering out into quiet chuckles before Greg spoke again with an audible grin. "I''m literally built different." The joke landed about as well as Sparky did a moment later, the other boy caught off guard to the point that he had to drop into a roll to keep his forward motion. Bouncing back to his feet, he shot a harsh look in his friend''s direction as Greg turned around, running backwards just to see the pratfall. "Dickhead." As if to punctuate his last words, Greg let out a cackle worthy of any witch on Halloween as he turned back around and bounded over to another rooftop. "Anything else?" "My appetite''s gone mad crazy, brah," Sparky finally added again as he rushed forward to cross the gap between them, a ripple of vulnerability in his voice that might have also been due to exertion. "I''ve been sleeping way less, too. That normal?" Greg nodded, the motion as fluid as his jumps. "Totally. I was a food vacuum at first. Eating like a pig, honestly. It''s gotta be all the enhanced biomass processing and cellular metabolic acceleration, you know. You gotta adapt to all the rapid changes and all that extra intake''ll probably drop down to something close normal like me once your body levels out." He paused for a moment, something else popping into his thoughts. "Although that still begs the question of where all the extra energy is coming from after that. Some kind of high-efficiency biological furnace, that what we are? Turning every scrap of food into pure energy?" Greg''s mind whirled with the possibilities, expression shifting downwards into a frown behind the mask, far more in his thoughts than he could manage to verbalize at once. "I mean, the energy has to come from somewhere, right?" "...right." "Honestly, as long as there''s some net intake, we should be good," Greg finished his musing, the night air carrying his words. Sparky blinked in silence, his eyes above his face mask an open book of ''What the hell?'' Greg stared back. "What?" "Nothing. Just¡­ nothing," Sparky muttered, shaking his head in confusion for a moment as he looked at Greg. A few seconds later, his voice shifted and took on a teasing tone. "So, how''s it feel getting your butt kicked by the Travelers and the Merchants in the same fight?" Greg rolled his eyes dramatically, but couldn''t suppress the slight heat in his chest at the thought of that night. "We''re not revisiting this! Though, for the record, I did trash Mush." "Clockblocker could take on Mush." Greg whipped his head around, white lenses focused on the other boy. "No, he hasn''t!" "I said could, not did," Sparky corrected flatly. "...fair." He couldn''t deny that much. "But that''s only a hypothetical." Still, he wasn''t going to go down without a fight. "Besides," Sparky ignored Greg''s last comment, his smirk audible behind the mask hiding his mouth, "That''s not what PHO''s saying." Biting back an actual growl, Greg sped up just enough to drag a lead on Sparky before spinning in the air once again, simultaneously leaping backwards across a gap as he held up both middle fingers. "I dont give a flying fuck what virgins on PHO are saying." Sparky actually raised an eyebrow at that, pumping his arms and legs faster in an attempt to catch up to Greg''s sudden burst of speed. "Virgins?" He questioned with a grunt to punctuate the word as he landed hard. "Glass houses, big brah." "Shut. Up." "Uh-huh," Sparky nodded back. "''sides, we both know that''s a lie." He''s right, Greg couldn''t help but agree. But he wasn''t going to admit that in a hundred years. "...you''re right," he admitted after a moment of silence, the blond boy spontaneously gaining the power of time travel. "But other than me, what is PHO talking about?" Sparky''s second eyebrow rose to join the first. "...Leet got a girlfriend." What. Greg let out a burst of laughter, a bark more than anything else. "That''s just a bad joke. Pull the other one." Before Sparky could shoot back with another insult about glass houses and stones, a scream ¡ª desperate and raw ¡ª ripped through the night air. Their conversation, along with the playful edge, was obliterated in an instant. "What the-" Sparky began, the words sharp and edged. But Greg had already moved. In his perspective, the world seemed to slow, giving him that fraction of a second''s advantage. His eyes, visible through the blue-glowing slits in his full-face helmet, scanned the area, catching onto a glint of movement. There. "There!" He repeated aloud. His voice wasn''t a shout; it was a command, casual attitude momentarily forgotten. "Follow me!" He took off, at a pace just exceeding that of Sparky''s, a sheer blur against the skyline, fast enough that he''d be risking a fine in a school zone at the very least. Sparky, though quick, was still a good distance behind. Gotta give him credit, Greg mused as he came to a stop. He''s trying. By the time Sparky caught up almost a half minute later, Greg had already come to a harsh stop and was deadly still, gaze focused down an alleyway. Sparky''s eyes seemed questioning but the blond didn''t have to speak a word as the other boy followed his line of sight and froze in place, the slight twitch of his fingers standing out against his stock still body. Both boys stared down, hands tightening into fists in unison. Five members of the E88, all of them obvious from clothing to coloring, were on the prowl. Their target? A young black couple who looked nothing short of terrified. "Why are we just standing here?" Sparky finally snapped his head to the side, pulled from his trance by the woman''s sudden scream yet again. His voice was urgent, frantic even, the newly-superhuman teenager almost vibrating in place. "We gotta save ''em!" Greg just turned to him, face inscrutable behind the mask. "Nah." All you, Sparkplug. The response seemed to shatter whatever focus Sparky had, like Greg expected, the other boy''s twitching reaching a new height as rage and other emotions seemed to spill out from him even before he spoke. "What do you mean, nah?!" His chest rose hard and fast as his breath seemed to come in heavy pants, anger evident in his stance as golden eyes seemed to flare in time with his breaths. "Are you or are you not a fucking superhero?" He hissed, taking several steps forward to glare down the blond. "No, not we. Just you," Greg corrected him, pointing at the scene with two fingers. He knew his tone was dismissive, harsh even, but he also knew if he sounded any less serious, it wouldn''t work. Sparky''s hard-headed and he can be as much of a dick as I am. I can''t let him see any weakness on cape stuff or he''ll never really listen to me. No more repeats of Friday night. "Get to it." Sparky seemed to deflate for a moment, the weight of the responsibility seeming to hit him. But another scream echoed ¡ª louder, closer. The woman had tripped over, and her partner was shouting, trying to protect her as the gang closed in. "Another one of your damn lessons?" Sparky shot back, glaring at Greg. But even as he did, his body tensed, preparing to jump into action. "Get to it, Apex," Greg pressed, tilting his head. Come on, Sparky. Prove me right. He wasn''t doing this just to be an asshole, as much as it might seem like that was the case. No, this was a lesson more than anything, a test to prove something on several different layers. And not just one for Sparky. "Fucking h- fine." With a huff, Sparky jumped off the roof. Quest Gained Sidekicking the Enemy While They''re Down Nice. One layer down. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Axel Ramon, known to some as Sparky, was intimately familiar with his own anger. He wasn''t like some annoying bitches who wore his anger proudly, like a human pitbull, walking around with some conspicuous chip on his shoulder. He wasn''t like Greg either, who pushed all his bad feelings down or ignored them and tried to put on a smile no matter what was going on around him. No, his was subtler, more irritating, a persistent buzzing in the back of his head. That buzz, insistent and ever-present like a bad case of tinnitus, did nothing but sit there, occasionally growing louder and more annoying every time someone did something to piss him off. Since Friday night, that buzz had intensified - like almost everything else about him - and had become a deafening roar. He stared down from the rooftop at the chaos unfolding below. Five members of the E88, hopped up on hate and hunting their next victims, had chosen a dark, grimy alley as their playground. The dim light from a solitary flickering bulb barely cut through the darkness, casting eerie shadows. Greg could handle this, easily, Sparky thought, but his mind quickly added, But I guess it''s my turn. Rather than unleash his wrath on Greg ¡ª again ¡ª for not playing the superhero, Sparky decided the thugs below made perfect targets. Let''s do this. "Fucking h- fine." If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Taking a breath, the chill of the night mixing with the rush of adrenaline, Sparky leapt from the building. His heart plummeted into his stomach as the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness enveloped him briefly before instincts he didn''t know he had kicked in. His eyes locked onto a rust-stained exterior stairwell, and like a cobra''s strike, his arms lashed out and his fingers latched onto the cold metal, muscles tensing the instant he did so. He absorbed the impact as his palms gripped tight, muscles straining as he caught himself. Instinctively, he moved again, maintaining some of his momentum in the process. With a coordinated push and kick, he propelled himself off the stairs, flipping backwards in a display of acrobatics he''d never have dreamed possible before. His body arced gracefully as he twisted in mid-air, a black and yellow blur against the dark backdrop of the alley. As he approached the opposing wall, his eyes calculated the distance and angle in a fraction of a second. He extended his legs, his sneakers making contact with the rough brick surface. The impact sent a jolt through his legs, but he used the momentum, channeling it into a powerful kick. The wall became a springboard, launching him forward as he bled off more force. Heading towards the ground, Sparky twisted his body, tucking and rolling mid-air to manage the force of his descent He landed with only a grunt, one fist and both feet touched the ground, his body low and coiled in the position Greg had drilled into him, a move straight out of a comic book. The ground beneath him was hard, unforgiving, but he barely noticed. His senses were heightened, every sound and shadow amplified in the dim light of the flickering bulb overhead. See, teach, I''m learning, he thought with a bitter edge of sarcasm. Straightening up slowly, muscles coiled and ready for action, he found himself in between the Empire gangsters and the couple, rage building in his chest as he took in the obvious signs of the same gang who nearly killed him just a few days ago. "Hey, fuckfaces!" He growled out, voice slightly muffled behind his black facemask. "Y''all too pussy to fuck with someone who''s not scared or what?" The couple being chased quickly took off, further into the alley and towards the nearest street as the Empire Eighty-Eight members turned to face him. Their faces contorted, eyes filled with ugly hate as they took him in. A knife glinted ominously, reflecting the flickering alleyway light, and brass knuckles promised pain. "What are you, kid?" One of them barked, waving a bat threateningly. Sparky scoffed, raising his fists up in a simple stance. "This an interview? You want my full genetic history before a beat-down? I''m a cape, how''s that?" "What fucking kind are you?" Another one demanded. "What are you t-?" "We can tell you''re a cape, you dumb fuck," the one with the bat interrupted, his gravelly voice grating on Sparky''s ears. "If you had powers worth talking about, you wouldn''t be talking, We''d be on the ground, maybe dead, so I figure some kind of shitty Brute, maybe a Striker. A Mover, maybe." Sparky frowned again, visibly confused at the conversation. "And you still wanna do thi-" "This ain''t Boston, kid. Dozens of new capes every couple of months pop up in the Bay thinking they''re hot shit," Knives grinned, interrupting him, "and you don''t look half as mean as some of the ones we''ve seen go down. So, what are you?" "Yeah, you look kinda vague," Knuckles chimed in. "Dependin'' on your blood, we might kill you. We might just fuck you up. Might just break your legs. It''s up to you." "..." A pair of golden eyes narrowed. "I''m as dark as the dick your moms suck to keep the lights on, how ''bout that?" Bat nodded. "...Alright, kill him." They charged. So did Sparky. He darted beneath the careless swing of a bat, feeling the rush of air as it missed him as a grin sprung into place behind his mask. Too slow. He found openings in the wild arc of a knife, exploiting the hesitation at his speed, every misplaced step. A particularly reckless swing by one of the gang members opened up an opportunity, and Sparky struck back. His hand chopped down at the thug''s wrist, sending the bat clattering into darkness. A vicious palm strike followed, making contact. The man stumbled back a step or two and the teenager let out a silent hiss as he realized he had held back a little too much as the man rushed forward again. Irritation at himself fueling him, he sidestepped a knife from the side and spun with the momentum, a spinning backfist landing in the same spot he struck with his palm barely two seconds ago. A vicious grin sprang across his face as he felt bones give way beneath his fist, and the man flew back and crumpled, body a heap on the damp alleyway ground. Not dead, at least, he caught himself thinking, able to see the ragged rise and fall of the thug''s chest even in the dim lighting. He felt the sharp edge of victory but also the sour twist of disgust at how excited he felt. Lucky me. "YOU KILLED KENNY!" His head snapped up as Knuckles let out a ragged scream. "He''s not d-" "YOU BASTARD!" The rush of adrenaline in his veins drowned out everything else as the guy with the brass knuckles charged him. The man''s angry intentions were all too clear from the raw hate in his eyes and Sparky reacted, instinct and training colliding. He blocked the blow with his forearm and struck back out, countering with a heavy fist into Knuckles'' gut. Unable to stand as his eyes bulged from the pain, the gangster slumped to all fours, coughing and spitting up his dinner from earlier. Oh come on, Sparky thought, grin falling away and replaced by a grimace as he hopped back from the mess all over the alley floor. Ewwww. A grunt from behind him blared like a loudspeaker in his ears as Sparky''s eyes widened. He dropped low, narrowly missing being trapped being the bulky arms of a massive tattooed Neo-Nazi. You guys all look the same to me, I swear. He moved with precision, every muscle, every nerve tuned into his motion and with no time to waste, he pivoted in place, channeling his momentum to drive a foot hard into the thug''s knee. With a cry of agony, the man went down hard, writhing on the alley floor. Two more E88s, seeing their buddy in distress, bolted for him. Sparky''s sneakers skidded on the grimy pavement as he darted towards a nearby alley wall. Rebounding off the wall, he flipped through the cold night air. His feet connected with both their chests in a powerful jumping double kick, the sudden blow leaving them gasping as they collapsed in heaps of failure on the cold ground. Landing back on the ground in a tight crouch, Sparky allowed himself another smile. Man, I''m good. The smile didn''t last long. "AAAAAAHHHHHHH!" His head whipped around, golden eyes wide as ever as he heard the woman scream again, this time her voice coming from deeper within the alley. Shit! What now? With barely a glance back at the downed gang members at his feet, Sparky felt a tug in his gut and rushed through the dark alleyways as fast as he could. With his heart pounding against his ribs, Sparky''s feet pounded the grimy path, propelling him through the dark alleyways. The flickering lightbulb barely illuminated the scene, casting long, ominous shadows that danced on the grimy walls. His mind raced as he tried to anticipate the gangsters'' next move, irritated at himself for not thinking ahead. They''re gangsters, not idiots. Of course, they''d have somebody else to trap them if they ran. He heard the scream again, closer this time, the sound echoing off the walls at the mouth of another alley. The urgency in the woman''s voice spurred him on, his body nearly blurring with speed. Come on! As he skidded to a stop, the scene that unfolded before him made his blood boil. Three gangsters, each a caricature of hate and violence, had cornered a terrified woman. One, with what looked like dirt smudged across the side of his face and a twisted smirk, was tearing at her shirt, pressing her hard against the wall as she fought and screamed, trying her best to push him away even as he held one of her arms against the wall. His muscular build and the way he moved spoke of a man used to getting what he wanted through force. The other two, one bald and shirtless, revealing a canvas of hateful tattoos, and the other in a dirty, torn jacket, were relentlessly kicking a man on the ground. Without a second thought, Sparky launched himself at the one attacking the woman. His shoulder connected with a solid thud, sending the rapist flying back as he let out a scream that was more surprise and shock than pain. He crashed hard, face-first, against the alley wall, a pile of trash bags just barely cushioning his fall. Not wasting a second, Sparky turned to the woman pressed against the wall. "You okay?" he asked quickly, voice muffled behind the mask. Her frantic nod and wide, terrified eyes were all the answer he needed. He didn''t wait to comfort her, instead, turning his attention to the other two thugs who had jumped back from their victim, startled by Sparky''s sudden appearance. "You picked the wrong night for this, man," Sparky growled, his voice muffled behind his mask but carrying an edge that promised retribution. The bald thug, recovering from his surprise, sneered. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?" "A guy with a grudge," Sparky retorted, his fists clenching. He didn''t wait for them to attack. Instead, he lunged forward, his movements swift and precise. He caught the first punch thrown by the bald thug, twisting his arm and sending a sharp jab to his ribs. The criminal grunted, doubling over in pain. The one in the torn jacket swung a knife, its blade glinting under the weak light. Sparky sidestepped, feeling the whoosh of air as the blade narrowly missed him. He grabbed the thug''s wrist, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. A quick jab to the chest sent the man stumbling back, eyes wide and mouth open as if he didn''t realize how much a punch could hurt. The woman''s partner, bloodied and bruised, tried to push himself up, his eyes meeting Sparky''s. There was a silent thank you in his gaze, mixed with shock at the teenager''s efficiency. Sparky turned away from him, muscles tensed, ready for the next move. The bald Empire member lunged again, a wild swing aimed at Sparky''s head. With a swift duck, Sparky evaded the punch and watched the man stumble as he kept his eyes on the other one, the one in the jacket. The jacketed thug was quicker, more cautious, circling Sparky like a predator, blade in hand. As he finally lunged, Sparky sidestepped and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard. The knife clattered to the ground as the thug howled in pain. With a swift, fluid motion, Sparky delivered an uppercut, sending the man sprawling onto the ground, unconscious. The bald Neo-Nazi, now recovered, charged at Sparky with a roar. Sparky braced himself, then at the last second, pivoted on his heel, using the thug''s own momentum against him. With a snapping kick, he sent the bald man airborne, the sound of what was hopefully only ribs snapping as he landed hard on the grimy ground. Panting, Sparky glanced around, ensuring there were no more threats. The woman was crouched by her partner, trying to help him up. Sparky walked over to them, steps heavy. "You two need to get out of here. Now. Stay on the main roads." The woman nodded, her eyes still filled with fear as she helped her partner to his feet. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don''t mention it," Sparky replied gruffly, his eyes scanning the alley for any more danger. As the couple hurried away, Sparky took a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing. He looked down at his hands, slightly trembling. I did it, he thought, a mix of relief and disbelief washing over him. I actually di-. His thoughts came to a halt as movement caught his eye ¡ª the first thug, somehow back on his feet, a gun in one shaking hand, nose gushing fresh blood as he cradled his chest. Sparky felt himself freeze like a deer in headlights, a cold, numb feeling washing over him as his heart stilled. The world seemed to slow, each second stretching endlessly as a familiar cold terror gripped Sparky''s heart. The gun... the same cold, metallic sheen as the one that had been staring down at him just days ago. His breath hitched, trapped in his lungs as the memories flooded back ¡ª the sight of steel, the deafening bang, the searing pain that had erupted in his chest. He couldn''t move, couldn''t think, his entire being focused on the weapon that threatened to tear his life away once again. His ears rang with silence, the alley''s dingy surroundings blurring as his vision tunneled on the gun, its barrel the only thing in the world. Just as the coldness of dread settled in, a blur filled his vision. A half-second later, the sound of bones crunching filled Sparky''s ears, louder than any gunshot, breaking the spell that had held him frozen. "Missed one," Greg''s voice cut through the tension, light and mocking. Sparky drew in a ragged breath, his body trembling as he forced himself to focus on the scene unfolding before him. The gun clattered to the ground, its threat neutralized, but Sparky''s heart continued to pound in his chest, a stark reminder of his vulnerability. He swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control over his racing thoughts. He took in another shuddering breath as he nodded silently. Holy fuck. The masked blond held a shattered wrist in hand, mask turned towards Sparky as he waved the man''s hand in a grim "Hello", still crunching bones in his grip as the gun clattered uselessly to the asphalt. "T-Thanks, brah," he managed to choke out, his voice barely more than a whisper."I mean¡­ Hardkour." The red-masked cape tilted his head slightly. "What are friends for, Apex?" It was an oddly comforting sentence, somehow made even more comforting by the way Greg held the thug''s wrist in an unyielding grip, the man''s hand flopping grotesquely as the bones continued to audibly grind against each other. Sparky nodded again, his gaze drifting to the gun lying harmless on the ground. He knew he had to get used to this, to the dangers that lurked in the shadows of Brockton Bay. But it was one thing to know it, another to live it. Turning to the man blubbering in his grip, the blond''s voice shifted, losing most of its warmth as he spoke next. "Hey, big guy," Greg shook the man like a ragdoll, uncaringly and with probably too much force, "Come on. Stop screaming," he commanded blithely, wiggling the wrist with each syllable. "I''m trying to teach my Padawan the ways of the streets here." Despite Hardkour''s best efforts at making himself clear, the man didn''t seem to hear him, continuing to scream. Greg sighed theatrically, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I get it. You''re hurting. So am I. I don''t like to do this either. You know, I''m a pacifist, really." Sparky blinked, thinking back to the chaos of a few nights ago. Pass a fist through a face, maybe. Greg shook his head as the man continued to scream. "Fun fact: did you know 106 people die every minute?" Sparky blinked at the non-sequitur. So did the man, his horrified expression clashing comically with his confusion as he managed to croak out a pained "What?" "You make 107." Greg said as he let go, only to send the gangster sprawling with a final punch. Sparky stared, trying to catch his breath. "Bro, what the fuck?" Greg laughed, brushing nonexistent dirt off his clothes. "You killed three guys three days ago," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "You didn''t exactly go easy on these ones either." Sparky bit his lip, memories flooding back even more. "...Yeah, I guess," he muttered, not wanting to dwell on the past. "Sides, he''s not dead, only K.O.''d. Some broken ribs, but he''ll be good in a month," Greg said with an audible smirk, gesturing at the man''s still moving chest. "You know me, I just said that to fuck with him." "... I''m not really gonna complain that much, honestly," Sparky found himself admitting. "Not anymore, at least," "Look who''s learning," Greg replied, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. Cutscene: Introspections III Cutscene - Introspections III ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The corridor stretched before him, pristine white walls and gleaming glass partitions painting a picture of clinical efficiency that bordered on the futuristic. Each step of his Oxfords echoed softly on the polished floor as he took his time, no need or desire to hurry. His pale gray suit, carefully selected to embody Medhall''s ethos of elegant performance, melded seamlessly with the sterile surroundings. The silk tie, its color and pattern meticulously matched to his bespoke suit, lay perfectly flat against the crisp white shirt, a portrait of unerring attention to detail. ¡°Good afternoon, Mr. Anders.¡± Maximilian Anders tilted his head in the slightest of nods, his lips upturning just a hair in recognition. "Michelle." The attractive executive assistant smiled wider at his acknowledgement, a pretty flush hitting her cheeks as she continued past him, the sharp click of her heels punctuating her path. As she finally walked past him and the click of her heels began to fade away as she rounded the corner, the smile he wore ¡ª the ghost of it, at the very least ¡ª vanished, his mouth its usual blank line. Max held her image in his mind for a moment, considering. She was certainly attractive enough, in a generic, surgically-enhanced way - perhaps falling within the lower range of his admittedly high standards. But¡­ But her procedures were amateurish, noticeable to his discerning eye. Any personal attention she received from him never exceeded the usual half hour every other week, or when the need took him. Too little distance, and she might start having ideas. As Max continued his procession down the long hallway to his office, he engaged in the expected ritual - nods of acknowledgment, exchanges of polite greetings and respectful deference from the executives and researchers who crossed his path. Outwardly, he projected an air of composed authority, the very picture of a leader in effortless command of his domain. But in the privacy of his own mind, contempt simmered, a persistent anger bubbling just beneath the surface. These sycophants, with their fawning smiles and eager-to-please demeanors, were so pathetically transparent in their toadying. He would say he despised their obsequious pandering, the way they postured in a vain attempt to earn his favor or catch his eye, but then he¡¯d be the one lying to himself. If only they knew the depths of his disdain for their pitiful displays. The sheep, prostrating themselves before a wolf in tailored wool... Unbidden, his thoughts turned to his father, and Max fought the urge to curl his lip. His father had never been one to indulge in the power plays, at least in this manner, too hard-headed in pursuit of his endgame, his goal to ¡°focus on what was important.¡± No, Richard Anders was too harsh, petty, and savage of a man to apply any sort of ¡®give¡¯ to any aspect of his life. But then, his father never truly understood the importance of appearances, of theater ¡ª that perception was its own reality. Max knew better. He understood the necessity of cultivating an image, of playing a role. Out there, he might don his armor, seize his birthright. But here, in this world of wealth and influence, he wore a different kind of armor - bespoke suits and a veneer of respectability, a polished mask for the ugliness that lurked beneath. In this arena, he was master of the game, king and kingmaker both. "Morrison," he greeted, his voice a deep timbre that filled the expanse, acknowledging the head of R&D lingering by the door of an elevator. The scientist, caught mid-step, paused and straightened, a flicker of pride lighting up his eyes before he nodded back with a respectful ¡°Mr. Anders¡±, before disappearing behind the door that hummed softly as it closed. "Walters," Max Anders spoke again as he continued, his gaze shifting to the finance director who emerged from a side office, clutching a tablet like a lifeline. Max noted the tension in her shoulders, the stress lining her face. Good. Let them feel the pressure, the weight of his expectations. He would accept nothing less than their best, their total dedication to his vision. ¡°M-Mr. Anders, good afternoon.¡± Anita Walters straightened her pantsuit and offered him a smile nearly as tight as his own along with a nod, stress visible on her face as she quickly made her way past him. ¡°To you as well, Anita.¡± Each name he uttered reinforced the hierarchy in place, every executive on his floor acknowledging him with a respectful nod at the very least. Reaching his office, the CEO paused, hand hovering over the biometric scanner as he stared at his reflection in the glass door. Light blond hair with not a strand out of place, teeth as white as his shirt, handsome face unmarred by the garishness of cheap surgery¡­ Perfection. The door slid open with a silent grace, revealing an office that was an extension of the corridor''s aesthetic ¡ª sleek, modern, and bathed in the natural light from his floor-to-ceiling windows. Maximillian stepped inside, the door closing shut behind him with barely a whisper behind him as he strode over the far end of the room, soles clicking on the gleaming polished floor. He paused for a moment as he reached the end of his path, casting a glance over to the large glass and steel desk at his side, before turning his gaze to the window and looking out over the city that sprawled below. This view, a testament to his life''s work and his family¡¯s legacy, filled him with a profound sense of purpose. Here, in this citadel of glass and steel, he was more than a name; he was a vision brought to life, a force of raw power, prestige and dignity. And despite it all, he was filled with all this unyielding rage. He was a man of wealth, composure, power and sheer will. In an ideal world, he would never have a moment of stress or discontent, given the means at his command. Yet, the world was far from ideal and he knew that much. Still, he made sure that potential problems were mitigated, loose ends were tied up and issues were resolved in such a way that if they were not already, they would handle themselves in time. So it was not often that such a mess of a situation was dumped on his lap without notice, because of pure incompetence, no less, from his own appointed lieutenant. Max had always known James to be an intelligent man. Dutiful, controlled, nearly as poised as himself but far less charismatic; all in all, the ideal subordinate. Far less trouble to manage than Brad, but that was just damning with faint praise to say the least. The sort of insult that could only be understood as comparing a dutiful butler to a mad dog on a tight leash. He had never had a bad word for the man, not in his civilian guise, and certainly not in costume as Krieg, the man nearly as capable in both aspects of his life as Kaiser was. To make matters even better, the man was loyal to a fault with seemingly no mind to usurp his position, which was more than he could say for some. Ignoring Hookwolf¡¯s own grumbles, he¡¯d often had to worry about Kayden sometimes¡­ The woman was powerful, capable, and ¡ª when properly reined in ¡ª excessively useful and focused on his needs. Still, she had a surprising willful streak when it came to being seen as ¡°good¡±, one that had only gotten worse since she gave birth and especially so in the wake of their unpleasant separation. Hormonal and temperamental as she had become in recent years, if anyone was to attempt to usurp him violently and to a permanent end, she would be a likely suspect. Nevertheless, Krieg was his best man, his right hand even. Skilled, dutiful, and composed. Never had he expected anything less from the taciturn man. Which was why he felt stunned to his core that a simple ambush and a simple initiation event had gone so unimaginably wrong just five days prior. The plan had been relatively simple, when Krieg had floated it to him weeks ago. With Lung out of the way and the ABB in tatters, the Empire needed to step in and make it clear that they were a dominant power before any other force within or without the city could rise up. Part of this involved striking fear into the remnants of the ABB before they could properly solidify, and another part necessitated the indoctrination of many entrants into the fold of the Empire proper. The timeline for the plan had been rushed ahead when some idiot child in a mask and motorcycle leathers decided to announce his enmity towards the Empire and Kaiser himself by not only affiliating with the ABB but taking it over as their new leader. That alone was bad enough, but publicly declaring as much with a video of the upstart whelp hurling a van into Empire-owned property and causing a massive conflagration that took down a good portion of an Empire-owned block? Egregious. If the destruction had not been enough of a statement, the graffiti on the van certainly made the point clear. So, really, it was only understandable that he had not been feeling entirely composed when he ordered Krieg to make the boy and the ABB pay. Still, he had never thought it would lead to this¡­ Maximillian Anders let out a long sigh, the man directing his gaze to the far side of the Bay, eyes searching towards where he knew the Docks were. This humiliation. Stormtiger beaten and broken was one thing. It certainly hadn¡¯t been the first time the musclebound Blaster got too cocky and received a beating. But a brand new Empire cape left in critical condition and possibly dead if not for Othala¡¯s healing hands? One adolescent rookie cape who seemed about as intelligent as one could expect from a lower-class child in this city against two experienced and powerful parahumans along with two more rookies as force multipliers? It should have been a done deal. Especially with one of the boy¡¯s own traitorous and opportunistic lieutenants informing the Empire of his movements so they knew exactly when and where to strike? On paper, it was excessive. And, in truth, it had been. Just in a direction he hadn¡¯t expected. If it had ended there, things would have been fine. Really, he might have been satisfied. At the very least, they would have had more information on a new threat, and the only cost was some humiliation at the hands of a rising figure and no damage that couldn¡¯t be fixed with a session under Othala¡¯s care. But no, of course not, it couldn¡¯t simply end there. It never did in situations like this. At the very least, he did learn something else from the situation. The child clearly took his role as leader of the ABB seriously. Extremely so. The precautions taken had been well-thought out and well-implemented. Dozens of white vans throughout the city, most of them acting as decoys and most of them entirely unaffiliated with one another. Most importantly, none of them related to or owned by anyone even tangentially affiliated with the Empire. The perfect location to carry out the initiation, far from what could be considered PRT-held territory and equidistant from ABB stomping grounds and Empire land alike, while also being in such a run-down part of town that only Merchants and no-name street gangs would even bother trying to ¡°hold¡± it. The idea of anyone seeing or hearing anything was unlikely, and that anyone would care enough to call for help even less so. Even the idea of law enforcement and cape support making it there was theoretical, at best. Unfortunately, unlikelihoods and theoreticals were not impossibilities. Two of his men literally torn apart, six times that number murdered, and almost three times that number, mostly Empire initiates, in various degrees of serious injury. One apparently hurled from a rooftop, at that. Even as his blood pressure had risen from sheer rage that same early Saturday morning, he couldn¡¯t help but admire the sheer brutality. It was something worthy of Allfather or Marquis, as much as he despised giving that fop any credit. Considering he had heard from those who escaped that the ABB adolescents had taken to calling him the ¡°Blue Eyes White Dragon¡±, it wasn¡¯t wholly unexpected, in hindsight. Regrettable, of course. But not entirely unexpected. Max frowned as he stared off into the city as Brockton Bay stretched to the horizon, a patchwork quilt of faded glory and tarnished dreams. The Downtown skyline gleamed in the late afternoon light, steel and glass monuments to wealth and power thrusting upwards like an insult to the heavens. But even from this lofty perch, Max could see the rot setting in at the edges from the Docks and the other side of the city, the slow, inexorable decay that crept through the city''s bones. A fitting enough metaphor, he mused, for an organism beset by disease, by parasites feeding on its lifeblood. His gaze traced over the distant Docks, skeletal and rusting, the once-thriving heart of the city''s blue-collar identity now little more than a graveyard of broken dreams and shattered lives. And who fills that void, hmm? Pushers and pimps, thugs and thieves, drug-addled fools desperate for their fix. Max''s lip curled, a sneer of aristocratic disdain. Pathetic. A city of sheep, bleating for a shepherd to save them from the wolves at the door. Wolves like that arrogant child and his band of mongrels. Fury simmered in his veins, slow and sulfurous. It had been days since he''d received the report from Krieg, days since he''d learned of the ignominious defeat dealt to his Empire by a boy playing at being a warlord. The wounds to his soldiers'' flesh had been healed by Othala''s gracious touch, but the blow to their pride, to his pride, was not so easily mended. That an upstart like him could challenge me, could spill the blood of my men on the streets of my city...it''s unforgivable. Intolerable. His hands tightened behind his back, knuckles whitening. He remembered well the surge of anger, of indignation, when Krieg had first brought him the news. The sheer effrontery of it, the unmitigated gall. That this child, this insect, could believe himself a match for the Empire, for Maximilian Anders... Arrogance. Hubris of the highest order. But what else can one expect, from the product of such inferior stock? The son of a whore and a bastard, without a doubt, gutter trash that lucked into powers and foolish enough to grasp beyond his station. His newest burner phone had buzzed that night, an unwelcome intrusion to his sleep. Krieg''s name on the display, bearing news of the defeat, another humiliation visited on Max''s soldiers. Stormtiger, beaten to within an inch of his life, Nordwind, nearly comatose. Their informant within Hardkour''s ranks, gone silent, likely dispatched with extreme prejudice. At the time, Max had listened to Krieg''s report with a face carved from ice, his voice betraying not a flicker of the incandescent rage simmering within. Only after ending the call had he permitted himself to feel it, to stoke the flames of his fury until they burned white-hot behind his eyes as he snapped the cheap phone in half. Now, days later, that anger had crystallized into something diamond-hard and unforgiving. He exhaled slowly, a frozen sigh. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, shadows lengthening across the city like grasping fingers. Max watched the light fade and felt only a grim sense of purpose. He raised his head slightly, gaze rising from the bottom of his windowsill to the proper view of Brockton Bay in the late afternoon sunlight once more. Light blue eyes narrowed as they took in the city¡¯s skyline, a dwindling little thing even after years and years of effort on his part. This city could have been another great, he mused. Not quite a New York or a Los Angeles, but at the very least, the San Diego of the East Coast. He remembered his adolescence, a time when that seemed like a possibility for the city he was born and raised in. When shipping was vibrant, capes were barely a decade old concept, and Brockton Bay was a thriving, growing living organism of a city on the cusp of greatness. Even after the ¡°Golden Age of Parahumans¡± ended, that didn¡¯t really affect a thing within the city proper. Now, Leviathan¡­ The CEO let out a quiet sigh as his eyes focused again, gaze locked firmly on the city in front of him. A sea of encroaching red appeared in his mind¡¯s eye as it flooded over the city, its origin point being the building he stood in up to the point where it came to a sudden stop several blocks away from the Docks. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, indeed, he closed his eyes as he dwelled on the thought, the visual of Empire territory unfading from his mind. It would have come down to this anyway, he told himself. With the musclehead of a dragon gone and territory up for grabs, it would have only been a matter of time before the unpowered thugs and the capes themselves started questioning why he wasn¡¯t expanding the Empire¡¯s demesne. He scoffed at the thought. And that would only lead to them questioning me as a leader. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Max let out another scoff, this one far less audible. As if most of those fools could think past the next morning with any degree of clarity. It was obvious to anyone with even two brain cells to rub together, meaning himself, Krieg, and Victor, for the most part, that their interests benefited from Lung far more than they lost, both immediately and in the long-term. Every empire needs an enemy to focus their efforts on lest they become prone to infighting due to a lack of challenge. Unfortunately, his Empire was no different. A perfectly detestable, powerful, monstrous illegal immigrant from a nation known historically as either a covert or overt enemy, entering their homeland with a wave of bodies, killing their brothers, kidnapping their wives, sisters and daughters for lascivious purposes, along with poisoning their friends using back-alley drugs? Lung had been perfect for his needs. With the Empire already largely in control of the areas of town that mattered, and Lung being there to publicly split PRT attention and draw more people to his ranks, there wasn¡¯t much else he really felt the need for. The dragon and his cronies were basically a walking advertisement for the Empire. Almost too perfect, honestly. Really, what more could any ruler ask for than a ready-made enemy with a loyal army hand-crafted to incite racial tensions and shift otherwise neutral or friendly figures into ardent fighters or sympathizers for the cause? Sure, the ¡°cause¡± was largely bullshit, but the sheep needed dogma to keep them bound to the only cause that truly mattered in the Empire ¡ª the will of Maximilian Anders. Panem et circenses. Medhall¡¯s support programs for ¡°those truly deserving of aid¡± and the organizational structures the Empire had built up over the decades provided the former, but latter came from the pageantry of the parahuman underworld, the ¡°great cause¡± of the Empire and the enemies he could point them towards. Aside from the worthless gang of drug dealing nobodies that cropped up in the last year, who else would the Empire have to fight? A largely Caucasian Protectorate, a superhero family that was just as white as his own, and a hidden figure in the form of Coil that most of the city didn¡¯t even know existed. All the way down to the mayor and PRT director, this city was so Caucasian, the war was effectively already won from the time his own father had triggered. Truth be told, if he had been a more petty man, he would have put Lung on his Christmas list, simply for making his job so much easier over the last decade. Not that the dragon-man wouldn¡¯t have promptly burnt said gift rather than risk opening it, but the look of confusion on his face would have been well worth it. He had tried picturing how Lung would look if he actually did it, but it just couldn¡¯t match up to the sheer knowledge that it was actually done and that the man would have been too baffled to know how to respond. Just not the same, he thought with a shake of his head. Max allowed himself a moment of private amusement at the thought, a razor-thin smile slicing across his face. Ah, the little things in life. Still, he knew better than to let flights of fancy distract him from the task at hand. The Empire''s position was strong, yes, but it was not unassailable. Not yet. Recent events had made that all too clear. Maximilian Anders knew what he had to do. Granted, the public¡¯s attention had shifted towards mocking the Protectorate after the travesty that was the fundraiser, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that there were still plenty of fingers being pointed in his Empire¡¯s direction, with laughing faces behind them. Letting the ABB¡¯s new pet parahuman go without reprisal would make his Empire look weak. It would make Kaiser look weak. And if there was one thing he learned from his father, it was that weakness kills. Scouts had reported what seemed to be Asians of varying types scouting out the edges of his territory, and considering the ¡°White Dragon¡¯s¡± attacks on his men, there was war on the horizon. Max''s lip curled at the thought, a sneer of aristocratic disdain. As if those mongrels could hope to challenge the might of the Empire. But still, the insult could not be borne. This ''Hardkour'' needed to be taught the error of his ways, and swiftly. It was obvious to anyone with a working brain that the already unstable gang would crumble without a parahuman at the helm. Above all else, they would devolve into infighting, or simply vanish into obscurity without a powered hand to guide them. His Empire was in no real danger. But that would only last as long as he made a decisive strike. He would teach the new "White Dragon" a lesson that he had never needed to teach Lung. A lesson written in blood and pain ¡ª a message that would reverberate throughout the underworld like a thunderclap. Cross the Empire, and pay the price. It was a simple calculus, really. But then, simpletons often required a firmer hand to grasp the complexities of the world. The Asians would be taught their place. And anyone that dared to laugh would understand why the name Kaiser was one to be feared. His Empire would not fall. He would- ¡°Welcome to Channel 5 News: Brockton Bay''s CapeWatch Channel.¡± Max froze as a sound from the far corner of his office drew his attention. A droning voice, the unmistakable cadence of a news anchor, emanating from the sleek tablet perched in pudgy hands. ¡°Chip Walker here, am I coming in clear?¡± The voice was tinny, slightly distorted by the device''s speakers, but still recognizable as that insufferable Walker. Max felt a flicker of irritation, his jaw tightening imperceptibly. ¡°Loud and clear, Chip.¡± The tablet''s volume increased slightly and Max had to actively resist the urge to grind his teeth. His gaze flicked to the couch, to the hunched figure sitting there in a gray hoodie, engrossed in the screen. Theo. His son and heir, in body if not in spirit. Max took in the boy''s soft, rounded features, the pale blond hair so like his own, and felt a now-familiar rush of disappointment, tinged with an emotion he refused to name. Fifteen years old and still so childish. It was Max''s own failing, he knew. He had been too lenient, too forgiving of the boy''s weaknesses. He had allowed sentiment to color his judgment, permitted the potential his beloved Heith had birthed into the world a chance to falter out of a desire to avoid being the monster his own father had been. Thus far, Theo had proven a decidedly poor investment. ¡°It seems like the city is always on fire, and that¡¯s why the news is always hot,¡± the news program droned on, Theo''s doughy face rapt with attention. Max felt his irritation calcify into something harder as he continued to listen, staring at his son out of the corner of his eye. The boy was too soft, both in body and mind. He lacked the killer instinct, the iron-spined ruthlessness that had seen him succeed. He spent his days sequestered in his room, face buried in books or glued to a screen, insensate to the realities of the world outside their gilded walls. ¡°Two people died in what seems to be a double homicide, their bodies found outside-¡± Max''s eye twitched, the inane chatter scraping at his nerves like nails on slate. He had indulged this distraction for long enough. He whipped around, eyes narrowed as he kept his hands clenched firmly behind his back. ¡°Theodor!¡± He kept his voice level, but imbued the single word with an unmistakable note of command. The effect was immediate and gratifying. Theo jerked upwards, grip tightening around his tablet for a moment, the device still blaring with the news program, before he glanced over in the direction of his father, his expression blank but distinctly nervous despite showing little emotion otherwise. "Uh-uh, y-yes, sir?" Max allowed the moment to stretch, his gaze boring into the boy''s wide grey eyes. He noted the way Theo seemed to shrink into himself, the subtle hunching of his shoulders, the unconscious attempt to minimize his presence, and his frown deepened at the sight of it all. Pathetic. "I believe I made myself clear, Theodor," he said at last, each word precise and razor-edged. "These meetings are not to be interrupted by these distractions. You are here to learn, to observe, to begin the process of preparing yourself for the duties that will one day fall to you as my heir. Not to waste your time with nonsense." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Theodor stared blankly at his father as the man continued to berate him, the words fading away to little more than a drone as he nodded at what he knew were the appropriate moments. His mind wandered, drifting away from the oppressive atmosphere of the office and the weight of his father''s disapproval. Gotta love these father-son bonding moments, Theo thought dryly, his face carefully neutral. Nothing quite like a good old-fashioned dressing down to really bring the family together. It was an art, really, the way he could tune out his father''s voice. Years of practice, of enduring the same tired monologues whenever the man found some new reason to be displeased with him. Theo had learned to read the patterns, the ebbs and flows of his father''s rants. He knew when to nod, when to murmur a quiet "Yes, sir" or "Of course, sir", just enough to maintain the illusion of attentiveness. But, as usual, his mind was elsewhere. Truthfully, he knew that his father wasn¡¯t really irritated with him. Not really. It''s not really about me, Theo mused, grey eyes tracing over his father''s face, noting the faint tension in his jaw, the tightness around his eyes. Never is. This is just... overflow. From whatever''s really eating at him. Truthfully, if he could muster up the energy to care, he might actually be annoyed at that. That even his father''s anger, his disapproval, was just a secondhand thing. Table scraps from the emotion that Maximillian Anders reserved for anything outside of family. His father had perfected the art of ignoring him whenever he was in a good mood. Anything less than that and he might decide to grace his only son with a few words of wisdom that could be summed up in short as: ¡°The best is the minimum for any Anders. You must exceed everyone else. Also, lose some weight.¡± Not quite that succinct, but he didn¡¯t really have it in him to be anywhere as wordy as his father. Simply put, he knew not to take it personally. Granted, it still hurt but it had less to do with him and far more to do with his father¡¯s¡­ extracurriculars. Theo''s gaze flicked away, skittering over the fancy office furnishings. The gleaming glass and metal desk, the stark modern art on the walls in polished silver frames. All of it carefully curated to project an image of sleek, unbothered power. Anders have an image. We have to be perfect, Theo thought, his eyes returning to his father''s face as he mimicked the man¡¯s voice in his head. But Theo saw. He had learned, over the years, to look past his father¡¯s attempt to manipulate. The slight stubble on his jaw, barely noticeable against pale skin. The faint disarray of his perfectly coiffed hair, a few strands out of place. To anyone else, they would have been unremarkable. Trivial. But to Theo, they were a glaring neon sign. Something''s wrong. It could be many things, Theo knew. His mind raced, sorting through the possibilities. The Empire had been making moves lately, capitalizing on the power vacuum left by Lung''s defeat. Theo knew the broad strokes, even if he was rarely privy to the details. Recruitment drives, pushes to expand their territory. The usual song and dance. But there was more to it, more than that. The events of Friday night hung heavy in his thoughts, the images still fresh and raw. Four Empire capes, routed by the ABB''s new warlord. Granted, half of them were greener than Astroturf, but even then, you didn¡¯t have to be part of the Empire¡¯s inner circle to know the bare bones of what had transpired there and how bad it was. Truthfully, anyone on the East Coast with an internet connection and a curious mind was probably aware that the Empire had struck against the ABB again and bit off more than they could chew. Pictures of Stormtiger with his arms hanging limp at his sides had already been made into memes on Parahumans Online, one of the more liked ones made by Theo''s own hands. Not that he would ever admit to that, but still. He could imagine how that must have galled his father. The great and powerful Kaiser, outmaneuvered by a kid in a costume. It was the kind of humiliation that he knew would eat at the man, especially considering the van incident just a few days before that. It couldn¡¯t be just that, though. Right? His father was many things, but he was not a brooder. What¡¯s going on here? Theo schooled his face to avoid a frown from showing as he kept his gaze on his father, eyes dull as his thoughts went elsewhere. It has to be Empire related but¡­ what? He knew the Empire was making moves. He had known that since Sunday afternoon when Kayden had asked him to watch her apartment as she prepared to leave. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ He''d been in the living room, on the couch, trying to lose himself in the pages of a paperback he¡¯d purloined from his father¡¯s shelf¡ª a book titled The Lacanian Subject¡ª when she''d walked into the living room, coming to a stop right in front of him as her shadow fell onto the page he was on. "Theo? Can we talk for a moment?" He held back a sigh, marking his place with a dog-eared corner. "Yeah, sure." Theo raised his gaze, gray eyes narrowing ever so slightly in the dim lighting, to take in Kayden standing there, a strained smile on her face. Those same eyes took in the scene quickly, flicking across her face and downwards, noting the tightness in her jaw, the way she seemed to wring her fingers even as she kept her arms down at her sides¡­ Something''s up, he thought then, a familiar sinking feeling in his gut. Something big. "I need a favor," Kayden had said, her voice too bright, too cheerful. Like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. "I''m going to be out of town for a few days. Visiting family in upstate New York." Theo just stared at her, his expression carefully blank. Visiting family. Right. He wasn''t an idiot. He knew what this was, what it meant. The Empire was making moves, and Kayden was part of it. So much for ¡°I¡¯m done with your father.¡± "It''s been forever since Aster saw her grandparents," Kayden had continued, the lie sitting heavy and awkward between them. "And I thought, well, it''s about time, you know?" Theo had just nodded, a slow, mechanical bob of his head. Why are you telling me this? he wanted to ask. Why are you pretending like I don''t know what''s really going on? But he hadn''t. He just sat there, silent and still, as Kayden had shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. "Anyway," she said, her smile faltering. "I was hoping you could keep an eye on the apartment while I''m gone. Water the plants, get the mail. That sort of thing." He just nodded again, a bitter taste in the back of his throat. "Sure," he''d said, his voice flat and lifeless. "No problem." Kayden had looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, Theo had thought he''d seen something like guilt in her eyes. Like she knew exactly what he thought about her, how much disdain he held for both her and his father. But the moment had passed, and she just flashes him another brittle, false smile. "Great. Thanks, Theo. I really appreciate it." And then she''d been gone, sweeping out of the living room in a rush of floral perfume and unspoken apologies. ------------------------------------------------------------ ------------------------------------------------------------ He had paid attention. He''d watched, and he''d listened, piecing together the scraps of information that floated his way. Purity, Crusader, and Rune; anyone in the know was aware that the three of them hadn¡¯t been seen anywhere in the Bay within the last week or so. All of them out of the city at the same time and in New York? Out of all the Empire members, they were the "cleanest", at least as far as their crimes, or in the case of two out of three, the opportunity to commit crimes. They were also three of the more personable and impressive capes the Empire had to offer, and given Rune was part of that list, that was saying something. The three of them were going to New York to recruit, obviously. Purity was always a big part of the Empire¡¯s recruitment and indoctrination efforts. Imposing and powerful, but soft-spoken and gentle, she was the perfect silk glove over Kaiser''s hard metal fist. Hookwolf was far more of a drill sergeant and trainer, Victor was built to lead in the field and Krieg was more about impressing the importance of finesse and skill than anything else. He''d seen them work their magic on Crusader, messing his head up even worse than what he already was. Theo didn''t doubt they''d be just as effective on other young or easy-to-influence capes. It didn''t take a genius to figure out what that meant. Recruitment, Theo had realized, the pieces falling into place with a sickening clarity. They''re recruiting new capes. Building up their forces. But even as Theo had come to that realization, even as the pieces had fallen into place... He''d missed something. Something big, something important. And now, as he sat there in his father''s office, listening to the man''s clipped, cutting words, watching the tension in his jaw, the tightness around his eyes... Theo realized what it was. Fear. His father was afraid. Afraid of something, or someone, out there in the city. Someone who posed a threat to his power, his control. He''s rattled, Theo realized, a cold certainty settling in his gut. Something''s got him spooked. Something big enough to shake the unshakable Maximilian Anders. And then, with a sudden, sickening clarity... He knew what it was. The Empire had been blooded. Their capes beaten, their forces routed by the ABB''s new warlord. Hardkour. The name hung in Theo''s mind, a specter of violence and brutality. He''d seen the footage, had watched the shaky cell phone videos that had made their way onto the internet. A figure in black, moving with a speed and grace that was outright inhuman. A blur of motion, a whirlwind of destruction that had left Stormtiger broken and bleeding, Hookwolf''s men literally torn apart. It was a display of power, a gauntlet thrown down at Kaiser''s feet. And Theo knew with an iron certainty that his father would not let that challenge go unanswered. He''s going to war, Theo thought, a numb sort of horror settling over him. He''s going to crush Hardkour, to grind him into the dirt. And he''s going to burn the city down to do it. It was a bleak realization, one that sat heavy in Theo''s chest. He knew his father, knew the cold, ruthless calculus that drove the man''s every action. Maximilian Anders would not tolerate a threat to his power. He would not allow an upstart like Hardkour to challenge his authority, to make him look weak. He''s going to kill him, Theo thought, a sick certainty twisting in his gut. He''s going to kill Greg. And there was nothing Theo could do to stop it. But even as the thought formed, even as the darkness threatened to close in... Theo felt a flicker of something else. He didn''t know how, didn''t know what he could possibly do.. But he knew that he had to try. I have to warn him, he thought, the idea taking shape in his mind. I have to warn Greg, give him a chance to prepare, to fight back. If his father found out, if anyone in the Empire discovered what he was planning... I''ll be dead, Theo thought, a grim certainty settling over him. Or worse. But¡­ "Sir!" The word burst out of Theo''s mouth before he could stop it, his inner voice screaming at him as he watched his father freeze mid-diatribe. The man''s pale blue eyes locked onto him, a burning intensity in their depths that made Theo''s blood run cold. Why did I say that? What was I thinking? The room was silent for a moment, the tension stretching like a rubber band about to snap. Theo fought the urge to squirm under his father''s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. "Interrupting me now, Theodor?" Max finally spoke, his voice deceptively calm. "N-no, sir," Theo answered reflexively, the words tumbling out in a rush. He blinked, realizing his mistake. "I mean, y-y-yes, s-sir. Uhhh, I m-mean¡­" What do I say here? Max let out a laugh, the sound sharp and cold, like the edge of a knife. "You must have an excellent reason for interrupting me," he said, his eyes never leaving Theo''s face. "So go ahead. Speak." Theo swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything to say. Just... just say something. Anything. "I was just thinking about how you were right," he blurted out, the words feeling clumsy and awkward on his tongue. Max raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to continue. Right. He always thinks he''s right, Theo thought bitterly. Gotta stroke that ego, make him think I''m hanging on his every word. "I mean, you were right about how I am lacking in composure," Theo said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "And I''m simply not putting myself out there like I should. I''m bringing shame to the Anders name because of it." Max stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Am I supposed to be impressed that you can parrot my words back to me?" he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "Is this what you disrespect your father for?" Theo felt his face flush, a hot rush of shame and embarrassment. "N-no, sir. I was¡­ I was just thinking about cousin Greg and¡­" Actually speaking to his father was surprisingly hard, the words tumbling out despite himself. It was so much easier being monosyllabic. "And?" Max prompted, his eyes narrowing. "And how he''s¡­ been working on himself," Theo finished lamely, mentally kicking himself. Great. Just great. Way to sound like a total idiot, Theo. "...Continue, Theodor. Finish your point." Theo swallowed again, his throat feeling tight and constricted. "I wanted to know if I could¡­ I think spending time with him would be good for me. I could learn how to better stand out." The words hung in the air, heavy and awkward. Theo braced himself, waiting for his father''s response. But Max didn''t say anything. He just walked over to his desk, pulled out his chair, and sat down, his movements smooth and deliberate. He stared at Theo, resting his chin on the back of his raised palm, a thin, mocking smile stretching across his face. "That''s idiotic," he said at last, his voice flat and dismissive. Theo felt his stomach drop, a cold, sinking feeling in his gut. He didn''t say anything, didn''t trust himself to speak. "That boy is just like his father at that age," Max continued, a slight laugh escaping him. "He might be your godbrother but never forget that the Veders come from a long line of blowhards with more ego than common sense. You think you''d learn how to stand out from that little fool?" He shook his head, leaning forward in his chair. "No, son, you''d be in his shadow for as long as you were around him. Let me tell you something, loud idiots will always get the most attention. So, if you think I''d let you around that boy for that reason, you''re more disappointing than I thought." Theo felt the words like a physical blow, a punch to the gut that left him breathless. He opened his mouth to say something, to defend himself, but nothing came out. "I¡­" he started, his voice small and weak. "However," Max cut him off, his tone suddenly thoughtful. "If there is one thing I learned from Rowan Veder, it''s how to manage and handle fools. I wouldn''t be anywhere near the man I am today if I wasn''t friends with that man, as sad as that is." He let out a scoff, shaking his head. "I know that boy will incite a rage in you that you will barely be able to handle. And honestly, I think you need that more than anything else at this point. I expect you to spend at least three afternoons with him every week, are we clear?" Theo stared at his father, his mind reeling. After a few moments, he just nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "Crystal, sir," he said, his voice sounding hollow and distant to his own ears. Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Good," he said, his tone final. "Now get out of my office. I have work to do." Theo didn''t need to be told twice. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, legs feeling like rubber beneath him. As the door closed behind him and the automatic lock beeped, the chubby teenager let out a shaky breath, heart still pounding in his chest. Damn, I left my tablet in there. Lag 6.23a Lag 6.23a ? ?¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 19, 2010 3:35 AM The night in Brockton Bay was rarely ever truly silent. Like most cities of any sizable population, someone was always going somewhere and there was always some degree of traffic. Truly, the streets never fully emptied. But above the streets, across the rooftops of Downtown, the skies were also far less empty than they usually were ¡ª they had at least one more occupant. The figure in black and yellow pumped his arms and legs for all they were worth, pushing even harder as he bounded off the edge of a rooftop. Axel "Sparky" Ramon, a lean fifteen-year-old with a mop of unruly dark hair, was pushing his newfound abilities to their limits, his heart pounding in his chest with each death-defying leap. He wore a sleek black tracksuit with bold yellow stripes running down the sides, the fabric clinging to his wiry frame like a second skin. A matching mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his intense brown eyes visible, gleaming with a mix of determination and exhilaration. His hands, encased in fingerless gloves, curled into fists as he pumped his arms, propelling himself forward with each powerful stride. Sparky was jumping from rooftop to rooftop, concentrating as he attempted to pull off more and more dangerous leaps. Each one was more daring than the last, pushing himself harder and further than he''d ever gone before. The wind whipped through his slightly long hair, tugging at his clothes, but he barely noticed, his focus solely on the next jump, the next challenge. His chest was pounding, not as much from exertion but from exhilaration. This was the rush he''d been chasing, the thrill that skating no longer seemed to give him. Out here, leaping and bounding across the rooftops in a way he never could have a week prior, he felt alive in a way he never had before. He was supposed to be running with Greg - his best friend and the reason he even had these powers ¡ª but he had no idea where the blond dummy had vanished off to. For a second, he considered that he had outrun him before banishing that thought from his mind. Even holding back, Greg was effortlessly faster than he could manage. Probably saw a mugging and went to stop it, Sparky thought with a mental eye-roll. But that wasn''t what he was focused on. Faster, he thought, gritting his teeth behind the mask. Gotta go faster. Gotta see how far I can push this. The world blurred at the edges of his vision as he approached the lip of the rooftop, his sneakers pounding against the gravel. With a grunt, Sparky launched himself into the void, his body arcing through the night air like a comet. For a moment, he hung suspended, weightless and free. The wind whipped through his hair, tugging at his clothes, and Sparky felt a fierce grin stretching across his face behind the mask. This was what he lived for now. This rush, this thrill of pushing himself beyond the limits of what he''d thought possible. Ever since that night, since the change, nothing else came close. Not even skating, his former passion, could compare to the sheer adrenaline rush of leaping from rooftop to rooftop, defying gravity with every bound. Sparky hit the opposite rooftop hard, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He rolled with the momentum, coming up in a crouch, his eyes already scanning for his next target. There. A water tower, looming in the distance, its metal legs glinting in the moonlight. It was a good fifty feet away, the gap between buildings yawning like a chasm. Perfect. Sparky took off at a dead sprint, his arms pumping, his breath coming in sharp, focused bursts. He could feel the energy thrumming through his veins, the power coiled in his muscles, just waiting to be unleashed. He hit the edge of the rooftop at full speed, planting one foot on the low wall. With a grunt, Sparky launched himself towards the water tower, his body arcing through the air in a graceful twist. He reached out, fingers closing around the metal railing, and swung himself up and over, landing on the top of the structure in a single, slightly jerky motion. Not perfect, he thought, wincing as he felt the impact jarring through his bones, but getting there. He didn''t pause, didn''t give himself a chance to catch his breath. Instead, he bounded off the top of the water tower, his sneakers hitting the gravel of the next rooftop with a crunch. The strain was starting to make itself known, his arms burning, his legs aching with each leap. But Sparky pushed through it, gritting his teeth behind his mask. Can''t stop now. Gotta keep pushing, see how far I can go. He scanned the surrounding rooftops, his keen eyes picking out the next obstacle. A narrow gap between two buildings, barely wide enough to fit a person. It was a precision jump, one that would require perfect timing and control. Sparky didn''t hesitate. He took off at a dead sprint, his feet pounding against the rooftop. At the last second, he leaped, his body stretching out like a diver, arms extended, reaching for the far ledge. For a heartstopping moment, he thought he''d misjudged the distance. The ledge seemed to recede before him, tantalizingly out of reach. But then Sparky hit the rooftop hard, rolling with the impact. He grunted as the gravel dug into his gloved palms. His skin is thick, but the jagged pieces still manage to scuff up his uncovered fingers. His sneakers bite into the rooftop, skidding a single meter before stopping. He came up in a crouch, his chest heaving, his limbs trembling with exertion. Shit. That was close. Too fucking close. But even as the thought formed, he felt a fierce grin tugging at his lips behind the mask. But I made it, didn''t I? I fucking made it. It was a small victory, but out here, in the dark of the night, with nothing but the rooftops and the rush of the wind... it felt like everything. That''s what makes it fun, right? The risk, the danger. Pushing yourself to the brink, and then pushing a little further. It was a thrill like no other, a high that he couldn''t get enough of. And now, with these new powers humming through his veins, he could push himself harder than ever before. Sparky took off again, his strides long and powerful, eating up the distance between rooftops. He leaped from building to building, his body moving with a fluid grace that would have been impossible just a week ago. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. He flipped in mid-air, twisting his body into a corkscrew, reveling in the sensation of the wind rushing past his face. He landed in a roll, coming up running, his heart pounding in his chest, his blood singing with adrenaline. This is what I was meant to do, he thought, a fierce joy welling up inside him. This is who I was meant to be. God, he kinda felt like shit for ever telling Greg to pull it back some. This shit was like crack right to his veins. No wonder Golden Boy¡¯s out here every night. Sparky pushed himself to his feet, his legs protesting the movement. He knew he should probably call it a night, head back to the house and try to get some sleep. But the restless energy was still thrumming through him, the need to move, to push, to test his limits. Just one more jump, he told himself, scanning the surrounding buildings for his next target. One more, and then I''ll head back to look for Greg. His gaze settled on a rooftop across the street, a good thirty feet away. It was lower than his current perch, the gap between them more of a downward slope than a straight shot. Perfect. Sparky backed up, giving himself room to build up speed. He took a deep breath, feeling the night air filling his lungs, the anticipation building in his chest. Then, with a burst of explosive motion, he took off, his feet pounding against the gravel, his arms pumping at his sides. The edge of the rooftop rushed up to meet him, and for a split second, Sparky felt a flicker of doubt, a whisper of fear in the back of his mind. But then he was leaping, his body arcing through the air like a comet, and all thoughts of fear and doubt were lost in the rush of the wind, the thrill of the fall. He hit the opposite rooftop hard, his sneakers skidding on the loose gravel. For a moment, he thought he might lose his balance, might go tumbling over the edge in a tangle of limbs. But then he caught himself, his enhanced reflexes kicking in, and he was sliding to a stop, his chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears. Fuck yeah, he thought, a fierce grin splitting his face behind the mask. Nailed it. But even as the thought formed, even as the rush of victory surged through him... Sparky felt a flicker of something else, a nagging whisper at the back of his mind. What am I doing out here? It asked, the question like a splash of cold water, jolting him back to reality. What¡¯s the end-game of all this? He didn''t have an answer, not really. All he knew was that ever since that night, since the explosion that had changed everything... he hadn''t been able to sit still, hadn''t been able to go back to his old life like nothing had happened. Because something had happened. He had happened. And now, with these powers humming through his veins, with this newfound strength in his limbs... he couldn''t just go back to being plain old Axel Ramon, skater boy with a garage band made of near-Merchant losers. No, he was something more now. Something different. He was th- "I''m Hardkour, hard-hitting, hard-spitting, hard-kicking. / Villains ain''t got the heart cus they know I''m too wicked." Sparky''s grin fell off his face as a familiar voice made itself heard, the sound of a feather-light landing of feet on gravel following it just a second later. He held back a groan, his shoulders slumping as he recognized the terrible attempt at freestyle rap. "I''m vicious, malicious, my powers are limitless. / I''m gifted and lifted, my prowess? Infinite." That¡¯s not even how you pronounce infinite. Sparky turned around, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation as he faced his newly arrived friend. Greg stood there in his black leather costume, accented with red on his shirt, scarf, gloves, boots, and that weird helmet-mask with the white lenses. The blond teenager continued to jam to his own beat, seemingly oblivious to Sparky''s growing irritation. "I''m in it to win it, spin it, no gimmicks, I''m no mimic," Sparky shut his eyes, grunting internally before opening them again. "Hardkour," he said, trying to get his friend''s attention. But Greg was on a roll, his hands starting to move in what Sparky assumed was supposed to be some kind of rap choreography. "I''m authentic, frenetic, kinetic, poetic, copacetic¡­" Oh, hell no, Sparky thought, watching the blond do a little dance that would probably unite both East and West Coast rappers against him if they ever witnessed it. This has to stop. "Hardkour," he tried again, a bit louder this time. "Pathetic crooks can''t get with this, I''m too quick-witted, / I''m committed, acquitted, spitting the hard-hitting lyri-" "Greg!" Sparky finally barked, his patience wearing thin. The masked teen froze mid-motion, his head tilting to the side as he looked at Sparky. "Heyyyy, no names out in the field," he chided, wagging a finger. Sparky raised his hands in apology. "My bad," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But whatever you were trying to do there? That was just bad, brah." Greg put his hands on his hips, striking a pose that Sparky assumed was meant to be heroic. "Hey, I can rap," he protested, sounding offended. Sparky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I do garage rock, and even I know that was terrible," he said bluntly. He stepped closer to Greg, giving him a once-over. The blond had been out running too, he knew that. But unlike Sparky, who felt like his lungs were about to explode out of his chest, Greg looked like he''d barely broken a sweat. Frickin'' unfair, is what it is, Sparky thought, a flicker of envy sparking in his gut. Dude gets all the rad powers, and what do I get? Slightly-better-than-average everything. But he pushed the thought aside, realizing it was just his usual bitterness and self-hate taking root. Brah saved my life with these powers and I¡¯m acting like a little whiny bitch. "Where''d you run off to, anyway?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought we were gonna train together, work on our teamwork and shit." Greg shrugged, the motion smooth and effortless. "Saw a carjacking on Twelfth," he said casually, like it was no big deal that he spotted a crime from almost two blocks away and was back in minutes. ¡°Mmm. Empire?¡± The word left his mouth in an unintended scowl, the thought of the Neo-Nazis far more personal recently, for obvious reasons. ¡°Nah,¡± Greg shook his head. ¡°Just one of the no-name gangs around town. Didn¡¯t even have any serious weapons on them, but I couldn''t just ignore it, y''know?" Sparky did know. That was the thing about Greg ¡ª for all his goofball antics and there were many ¡ª the dude had a serious hero complex. Always had to be the big damn hero. Sparky knew how the ABB bombings had gone; even with all the craziness, Greg had focused on saving people, both as Hardkour and as White Knight (or ¡°Prodigy¡±, as Greg often insisted). Guess that''s why he¡¯s the big shot, Sparky thought, nodding to himself. Universe knows what it''s doing, apparently. But he didn''t say that. Instead, he just nodded, uncrossing his arms. "Right. Makes sense." There was an awkward pause, the two of them just standing there on the rooftop, the distant sounds of the city filling the silence between them. Sparky scuffed his sneaker against the gravel, feeling a sudden need to move, to do something. "So, uh... you wanna keep going?" he asked, jerking his head towards the next rooftop over. "I was thinking we could work on our leaps, maybe try some of that wall-running shit you were talking about." Greg''s mask might have hidden his face, but Sparky could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Hell yeah, dude!" he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Let''s do it!" And just like that, they were off again, two blurs of black and yellow and red, leaping and bounding across the rooftops like a pair of super-powered parkour enthusiasts. Sparky let himself get lost in the rhythm of it, the pounding of his heart, the burn of his muscles. Out here, with the wind whipping through his hair and the city sprawling out below him, he could almost forget about how far he had to go to match his friend. Almost. But then Greg would pull off some crazy flip or impossible leap, and the reality would come crashing back down. To be perfectly honest with himself, Sparky really didn¡¯t want to have to go through shit like getting blown up or having to scoop his own guts back into his own chest just to be able to do everything Greg was doing. Sparky was fine just being along for the ride. Eventually, he¡¯d catch up. Right? Right, he thought, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself to make the next jump, to close the literal gap between him and Greg. But he kept going, kept pushing, kept leaping. Because what else could he do? This was his life now, his reality. And if he couldn''t be the hero, well... at least he could be the sidekick. With a grunt of effort, Sparky launched himself off the edge of the rooftop, his body arcing through the night air. For a moment, he let himself imagine that he was flying, that he was soaring above the city on wings of his own making. But then gravity took hold, and he was falling, plummeting towards the unforgiving ground below. Only to be caught at the last second by a pair of strong arms, a familiar voice laughing in his ear. "Gotcha, bro!" Greg said, his masked face grinning down at Sparky as he held him bridal-style. "Can''t have my sidekick going splat, now can I?" Sparky just groaned, pushing himself out of Greg''s arms and onto the rooftop. "I''m not your sidekick," he grumbled, brushing himself off. But even as he said it, he knew it wasn''t true. Lag 6.23b
Lag 6.23b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? May 20, 2010 The bell rang, a shrill sound that cut through the chatter filling the halls of Winslow High. Greg Veder strolled into Mr. Gladly''s World Issues classroom alongside a bored-looking Axel Ramon, his blue eyes scanning the room with a mix of amusement and detachment. The desks, ancient relics that had seen better days, groaned under the weight of students as they settled in, their conversations a cacophony of teenage interests. "Yo, did you see that new Thrillshot music video?" one guy asked, his voice rising above the noise. "The special effects were insane! They said they got a Tinker working for the band." "Nah, man, I was too busy trying not to fall asleep during detention," another replied, slouching in his seat. Greg plopped down into his chair, the plastic creaking beneath him. He glanced over at his best friend, Sparky, who was already doodling in his notebook, golden eyes focused on the page. A smirk tugged at the corner of Greg''s mouth as he leaned back, his gaze drifting to the front of the room over to Mr. Gladly, a short, baby-faced blond with a smile that seemed permanently etched onto his face as the man stood before the class. Really, he looked more like a student than a teacher, his expensive clothes and well-groomed appearance setting him apart from the sea of hoodies and ripped jeans. "Alright, everyone, settle down," Mr. Gladly called out, clapping his hands together. The chatter slowly died down, though pockets of conversation still persisted. "Hey, anybody seen Hess today?" a girl whispered loudly, leaning across the aisle to her friend. "Probably skipping again," the friend replied, rolling her eyes. "Has she been here since school got back in?" "So, for your next project," Mr. Gladly continued, his voice cutting through Greg''s thoughts, "I want you to put your desks together and¡­" As the teacher droned on about the assignment details, Greg''s mind wandered. He glanced around the room, taking in the peeling paint, the flickering fluorescent lights, and the three outdated computers lining the back wall. He wasn''t even sure why he bothered with Winslow. He could make all the money he ever wanted in less than a month and it wasn''t like college was something he was ever gonna bother with. Not even sure I could handle it without losing my fucking mind. Twelve years of school is already torture. His gaze landed on Sparky again, and a grin spread across his face as he twisted his chair around and scooted the attached desk across the floor with a loud groan to meet his friend''s own. Greg leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "Hey, Sparks," he whispered, his voice low. "You hear what Gladly wanted us to do?" Sparky glanced up from his doodles, one eyebrow raised. "Did I hear? Yeah. Did I pay attention? Nah, brah." Greg huffed out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Cool, me neither. Now, check this out." And with that, he pulled out a sheet of paper and started scribbling. The blond could tell Sparky was interested in what he was writing, even though he kept his bored expression. Yeah, gonna make those eyes widen up real quick. Try to act nonchalant about this. With a self-assured smirk, Greg finished scribbling down the lyrics he''d just brainstormed and passed the sheet over, eager for his friend''s approval. Sparky, curious as Greg expected, glanced down at the paper. A second later, he glanced back up. "Yeah, nah," Sparky said under his breath, shaking his head as he tried to avoid drawing attention from the rest of the class. Greg''s face contorted into a look of confusion. "What?" he shot back, his voice barely audible to anyone without enhanced hearing like Sparky and himself. "What''s wrong with it?" Sparky narrowed one eye, tapping the paper in front of him. "Okay¡­ ''carving the streets, I''m hardcore blazed¡­''" "Uh-huh," Greg nodded, seeing nothing wrong. "''...Katana so sharp, it''s a bloody parade¡­''" Sparky continued, his mouth pursed. "Inspired writing, honestly," the blond replied. Greg leaned back in his chair, the picture of ease, even as the aged plastic creaked beneath him. "...okay, let''s skip to the end here," Sparky said, both eyes narrowed now. "''Fire like a comet, I''m the talk of the town, villains drop like flies when I''m wearing my crown¡­'' You see nothing wrong with this?" "No," Greg answered simply, his smirk never wavering. "...what crown?" Sparky finally asked, his voice low but his expression making it seem like he''d yelled. "What. Crown." Greg gestured to his messy bedhead, his blond locks sticking up at odd angles. "It''s a metaphorical crown," he explained, his tone suggesting that it should have been obvious. "It represents me best, that I''m the king. Boastfulness in rap is part of the culture." "The culture?" Sparky shot him a look, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The culture," Greg affirmed, his voice unwavering as he leaned back in his chair, the plastic creaking under his weight. He met Sparky''s gaze head-on, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. Sparky rolled his eyes, clearly at least a little frustrated. "Why do you even want a rap? I can write you a sick theme song with some guitar riffs and drum solos." "Bro, only Protectorate and corpo heroes do rock and pop." Greg snorted quietly, pulling a face. "You don''t know anything." Gold eyes went slightly cold as Sparky tilted his head to the side. "...wanna rephrase that?" "Nah." Greg shook his head. "Like I was saying, you don''t know anything. It''s the hard superheroes and vigilantes that get rap songs. Villain rap, vigilante rap, it''s the new edge music. Self-empowerment and a challenge to the system but as a cape, y''know. Don''t act like you haven''t heard Razr?" Sparky''s golden eyes narrowed, his expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. He slouched in his seat, his long hair falling over his face as he shook his head. "Wannabe villain from a gated community who acts like he grew up in the hood. Yeah, I heard Razr." Ooooh. I touched a nerve. Greg''s smirk only grew wider. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratched surface of his desk. "Hater," he accused playfully, his voice barely above a whisper. "He was on the soundtrack for the first Ex-Heroes movie." Greatest zombie movie in fucking history. Sparky scoffed, one hand reaching up to toss his hair back. "Brah, you''re gonna need to tell me how I''m the hater for speaking facts on th-" "Because you''re disrespecting a legend," Greg interrupted. His voice rose slightly with the last word, but remained low enough to avoid drawing attention from their classmates as his fingers tapped against the desk. "His album was amazing." "Tracklist was trash, let''s be real," Sparky countered, his tone flat and unimpressed. He leaned back in his chair, the plastic groaning slightly again. "Dude does pop rap and acts tough." Greg opened his mouth to retort, but Sparky held up a hand, his fingers outstretched as he began to list off his points. "Does music for game trailers, gets featured on movie soundtracks. His power is that he can claw things with his hands," he ticked off each item, his voice low and steady. "He used to be on a TV show for teens. And committed one crime, assault without using his powers." Greg shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "...I don''t see your point," he replied glibly, eyes flicking around the room. "Of course you don''t. Razr as an artist depends on you. You''re a white kid from the suburbs, brah," Sparky said with a slight hiss, his fingers tapping against the scratched surface of the desk. His golden eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his voice still low. Greg fought back a laugh. "What does race have to do with anything?" he asked, doing his best to keep the mocking tone out of his voice. He''s serious about this. Love it. Sparky shook his head, his long hair falling over his face. "Cus you''re literally his target demogr-" "What are you two talking about?" A high-pitched voice piped in from behind Greg, interrupting Sparky mid-sentence. "Are you even doing the wor-" "Shut the fuck up, Julia," Sparky snapped, leaninf forward his seat to shoot the tan, brown-haired girl a withering glare as he hissed at her. His golden eyes flashed with annoyance, mouth set in a firm line. "Kinda having a serious conversation right now. Don''t be a nosy bitch." Julia''s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shock. "Y-you can''t talk to me like tha-" "Julia," Greg cut in, voice dismissive. He leaned back in his chair and turned his head, the plastic creaking under his weight as he rested his arm on it and fixed the girl with a steady gaze. "Were we talking to you?" "...no?" Julia''s voice was small, uncertain. "Okayyy¡­" Greg raised his eyebrows, smiling at her with a closed mouth. "Logic would dictate you should mind your business then." "She''s a fucking parasite, G," Sparky snapped, still glaring at the girl. "Only thing she lives for is gossip and throwing up the strawberrry donut with sprinkles she ate for breakfast." The brunette''s eyes widened as one hand clutched her desk. "How d-" "I can smell it on your breath, vomit queen," Sparky hissed back, the other girl snapping a hand to cover her mouth. Jesus¡­ The blond turned slowly to give his friend a wide-eyed look, mouth open slightly. "Bro¡­ decency? Civility? Courtesy? Heard of them?" "You heard of my balls?" Greg raised an eyebrow. "...they make a sound?" "...shut up." Turning back to face the girl, Greg shot her a look he hoped was understanding. "You get my point though, right?" Julia stared at Greg, confusion etched across her features. Her gaze snapped from him to Sparky, then to the other boy sitting across from her who had chosen to ignore his partner''s argument. Her mouth opened and closed silently, like a goldfish gasping for air. Greg watched as her gaze flicked back to him, uncertainty warring with irritation in her eyes. He could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to decide what to say. The blond barely suppressed a flinch as thoughts of his girlfriend, Emma - currently lying comatose in a hospital bed - hit him like a hammer at the reminder of how he recognized Julia. The trio of Emma, Sophia, and Madison had once ruled the sophomores and freshmen of Winslow Highs with whatever the teenage girl version of an iron fist was, their popularity and social status unquestioned. But now, with Emma out of commission and Sophia thoroughly humbled, the balance of power had shifted. With him basically beating up any bully he saw being annoying, it was mostly in his favor. And then there was Julia, one of Emma''s "friends." A hanger-on, a satellite that orbited the trio''s star. Without their protection, without their status to shield her, she was nothing. Just another face in the crowd. From what Emma had told him about how this social shit worked, someone who wasn''t popular or respected for a specific reason like sports or being pretty or having a cool after-school job, like Julia, they couldn''t really say anything to someone above them and expect any back up or something like that. He didn''t really pay much attention. "I''m gonna assume you do. I apologize for my bro, though, that was¡­ I''m being real, kinda rude," Greg shot Sparky a glare the other boy ignored before the blond leaned back again, his elbow resting on the back of his chair as he fixed Julia with a steady gaze. "But I''m still gonna need you to turn around," he twirled his finger in the air. "And do your own work." Julia''s face flushed with frustration, but she did as she was told, turning back to face her own desk. Greg could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Probably should do something nice for her to make up for that. "Nice," Sparky chimed in, his voice a low murmur. Without even looking, Greg raised his hand, meeting Sparky''s in a high-five across the table. "When am I ever not?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face. "At least one of us has to be." "Not to those bitches," Sparky snorted quietly as he leaned back in his seat once more, this time with his arms crossed ovet his chest. "Also, ''logic would dictate''? Really?" Greg shrugged, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "What? Too Spock?" "You watch Star Trek?" Sparky asked, one eyebrow raised in surprise. "Yeah, the movie?" Greg nodded, his blond hair flopping over his forehead. "It came out last year." Sparky shook his head, his long hair swaying with the motion. "I didn''t see it." "Why?" "Zac Efron as Captain Kirk, really?" Sparky''s tone was disbelieving, but Greg understood why. "Jesse Eisenberg wasn''t my first choice for Spock, either," Greg admitted, his shoulders rising and falling in a casual shrug. "But he pulled it off. Something about him speaking super-fast as Spock soothes my soul." Sparky fixed Greg with a skeptical look, his eyebrows knitting together. "Wait¡­ you have a soul?" Greg scoffed, his hand flying to his chest in mock offense. "Being blond makes you evil. Being ginger means you have no soul," he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don''t mix them up. It''s rude." The two friends shared a look, their eyes locking for a moment before they both devolved into snickers. The sound was just low enough that only the two other groups seated near them paid them any attention, their heads turning to shoot the pair curious and annoyed glances, respectively. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the front of the classroom where Mr. Gladly droned on about the project. The teacher''s voice was a distant buzz in Greg''s ears, and wow, he actually kinda sounded like the trombone off Peanuts. Crazy. Womp-womp-womp-womp- wompwomp. Hehehehe¡­ Sparky''s voice cut through Greg''s mocking thoughts. "Oh also, someone made you a theme song and they added it to your Henshin bullshit right before you fought Lung." He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone with stealth and sliding it across his desk to Greg''s own with a smirk. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Greg''s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in surprise. "Wait, someone made an AMV of... me?" Sparky rolled his eyes, shooting Greg a playfully harsh glare. "... First of all, it''s not anime, so it''s just a music video. Second... shut up. Third... people are loving it. Look." He pushed the phone even closer towards Greg, the screen already lit up with the video in question. Picking it up, Greg hit Play, his smile widening as he watched himself transform into his white knight armor, the footage cutting to him flitting around the screen, engaging in a fierce battle against Lung. A rock song played in the background, the heavy beats and guitar riffs perfectly synced to the action on screen. "Sick," Greg breathed, his eyes glued to the screen. "Greg, Sparky!" Mr. Gladly''s voice rang out from the front of the classroom, startling the two boys from their reverie. They jumped slightly in their seats, their heads snapping up to face the teacher. "Are you boys doing your work?" "No," they both said in unison. Blue eyes met gold, and for a moment, there was silence. Then, the snickers started. They didn''t stop. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "And that''s when Mr. Gladly kicked us out and told us to go to you," Sparky said, his golden eyes flicking over to Greg as he spoke. "Well, he kicked Sparky out and I just kinda went with him," Greg interjected, voice quick and confident. "He didn''t really say anything to me. I think you should really give him some diversity training. Little bit of prejudice there, maybe?" He glanced at Sparky, one eyebrow raised, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe?" Sparky hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered Greg''s words. "Maybe. First time I noticed, but it was a little weird. Maybe." Greg nodded, his expression one of fake solemnity as he turned back to face the owner of the office the two were standing in. "And yeah, that''s pretty much how we got here." Principal Blackwell, a skinny woman in a gray pantsuit, stood by the side of her thick wooden desk. Her dirty blonde bowl-cut framed a face set in a severe frown, her hazel eyes speaking of exhaustion despite the rest of her appearance remaining as harsh and unforgiving as it usually was. "Mmm," she hummed, her gaze flicking between the two boys. "And the part about you walking in slow-motion as you entered Mr. Gladly''s class and doves flew out from behind the two of you. Mr. Veder, Mr. Ramon, tell me please¡­ how was that relevant or¡­" A barely audible hiss escaped her before she spoke again, her voice strained, "...factual?" Greg faked a cough, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he fought back a grin. "Well, Gangsta''s Paradise was also playi-" "We''re sorry about that, Principal Blackwell," Sparky cut in, a grin on his face as he let out an awkward laugh. He slammed a hand over Greg''s mouth, muffling the blond''s words. "So very sorry. He''s an¡­ unreliable narrator. You can never trust his perspective, really." Blackwell shot her gaze over her glasses at Greg, her eyes narrowing as she studied the boy. Greg simply shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in a fluid motion, not feeling the need to remove Sparky''s hand from his face. He could feel the amusement bubbling up inside him, the urge to laugh barely contained. The principal closed her eyes, two fingers meeting the bridge of her aquiline nose as she rapped hard on the desk with her other hand. She looked as if she wanted to wipe her face with her hand, said rapping hand squeezing into a tight clenched fist when it wasn''t knocking against her desk. A loud sigh escaped her, the sound filled with a mix of frustration and resignation. Sparky lowered his hand from Greg''s face, both boys shooting the principal expectant looks. They stood there, shoulders nearly touching, waiting for her to say something. Finally, Blackwell opened her eyes, a clearly fake smile plastered on her face. Annoyance and exhaustion warred for dominance in her gaze as she spoke, her voice tight. "It''s 2 PM. Get out." Greg''s eyes widened, his mouth opening to protest. "So¡­ no detent-" "Getoutofmyoffice!" Blackwell interjected, her words running together in a rush of exasperation. She pointed at the door, her smile never wavering even as her eyes flashed with barely contained irritation. Greg glanced at Sparky, a grin spreading across his face as they left the office. The other boy returned the look, his own smile a mirror image of Greg''s. "Your house?" "Where else?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg and Sparky lounged in the Veder living room, the soft blue walls and plush furnishings creating a cozy atmosphere. Greg, in his usual fashion, had draped himself upside down on the couch, his feet dangling over the back while his head hung off the edge, blond locks brushing against the carpet. Sparky, on the other hand, had claimed a spot on the floor, his back resting against the front of the couch as he sat cross-legged on the woven white rug. The two teenagers were engrossed in an episode of CAPES, a popular TV show that delved into the cutthroat world of corporate cape life. On the rustic coffee table in front of them, cups of orange soda sat half-empty, the condensation leaving rings on the wooden surface. "So, when''s this Mike Ross guy gonna get caught?" Greg asked, his voice slightly strained from his inverted position. He kicked his feet playfully in the air, the rhythmic thumping of his heels against the back of the couch punctuating his words. "It''s been like three seasons. You''d think they would find out he used to be a villain before." Sparky snorted, his gaze flickering from the TV screen to his phone as he idly scrolled through his messages. With a shrug, he let the device drop back into the pocket of his baggy black-and-yellow hoodie. "He''s the main character, brah," he replied, shaking his head in amusement. "He goes to jail, show ends." "I know, I know," Greg conceded, his upside-down eyebrow quirking as he drummed his fingers against the couch cushions. "M''just saying. It''s like every third character threatens Hotshot with this secret at least once a season. You think he''d just say fuck it and leave already." Sparky frowned, his shoulders rising and falling in a noncommittal shrug. "Corporate bread is too good, brah. You see Ross''s new apartment? You see how Closer''s place looks, the cars he buys, brah? I wouldn''t give that shit up easy if I was Hotshot." "Hmmm¡­ true." Greg nodded, the movement somewhat awkward given his inverted position. A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the dialogue emanating from the TV and the occasional slurp of orange soda. Greg''s mind wandered, his thoughts drifting to the recent changes in his life. Being a superhero had its perks, sure, but it also came with a whole new set of responsibilities. As if reading his thoughts, Sparky glanced around the living room, his gaze trailing up the stairs towards the second floor. "...your mom asleep upstairs again?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. Greg shook his head, the movement causing his hair to sway like a golden curtain. "Nah, dude," he answered calmly, his tone fully sidestepping the slight worry that gnawed at the back of his mind. "She''s at a friend''s house in Downtown." Sparky leaned back further against the couch, fixing Greg with a cock-eyed look. "And you¡­ aren''t worried about her or nothing?" A laugh bubbled up from Greg''s throat, the sound slightly strained as he waved away his friend''s question with a dismissive hand. "Come on, man. Of course I am. That''s why I got some of my boys watching her." "...some of your boys," Sparky repeated slowly, his gaze intense as he focused on Greg''s upside-down face. Greg fought back another snort, amused by Sparky''s apparent inability to accept the fact that he now essentially ran what used to be the ABB. It was a strange turn of events, yeah, but one that Greg had embraced wholeheartedly. After all, with great power¡­ And if that responsibility included keeping the streets safe and his mom out of harm''s way, well, he was more than happy to shoulder that burden. "Yeah, some of my boys," Greg confirmed, his tone slightly mocking as he echoed Sparky''s words. He could practically hear his friend''s just barely unspoken concerns. Sparky''s frown deepened, his brows knitting together as he studied Greg''s face. "And you trust them?" "Yeah, they used to be criminals but they''re loyal, dude." Seo and Joey are good guys¡­ real loyal. "Sides, I told them anything that happens to my mom happens to them," Greg shot back, his voice firm and unwavering. He knew that his new authority might seem strange to Sparky, but he also knew that he had the power to back up his words. "They''re super-de-duper vigilant, trust me." "No, I mean with your identity," Sparky clarified, shooting Greg with a look. "Oh, it''s my two most trusted guys," the blond answered. "I know they wouldn''t dare." "...If you trust them, I trust them, brah," Sparky conceded, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "We already had this convo, anyway." "True," Greg blinked, the realization dawning on him as he recalled their previous discussion. Has it really only been a week? he thought to himself, marveling at how quickly time seemed to pass. "Crazy how it''s been a whole week since that¡­ that went down." Sparky nodded, his expression somber as he stared at the TV screen, his mind clearly elsewhere. "Right. I¡­ honestly can''t believe it. It already feels like a whole year. More even. I''m jumping over buildings and shit now." Greg let out a low whistle, his upside-down face scrunching up in a mixture of disbelief and awe. "That¡­ that Friday escalated quickly, like¡­," he paused, taking in a deep breath as he tried to find the right words. "Like, that really got out of hand fast." "It jumped up a notch," Sparky agreed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the fabric of his hoodie bunching between his fingers. "It did, didn''t it?" Greg mused, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he replayed the events of that whole night in his mind. Sparky''s voice broke through his thoughts, the words oddly calm despite the weight in them. "I killed two dudes. Maybe three. Probably three." He fell silent for a moment, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Definitely three." Greg nodded, his own memories of that day flooding back in vivid detail. "Yeah, I think I saw one of them when I was coming up the stairs." "Did you?" Sparky asked, his tone a strange mix of heaviness and lightness. "Guy who fell down the stairs and smashed his head on the wall?" Greg clarified, tilting his head to look in Sparky''s direction, his blond hair brushing against the couch. Sparky didn''t meet his gaze, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen. "Yeah." Greg hesitated for a moment, weighing his next words carefully. "Also, did you take out the second one with a chair leg?" I remember seeing that, when I checked that floor. "First," Sparky corrected, his voice flat and emotionless. ¡­okay. "And how''d the third go?" "Natural causes." Greg''s eyes narrowed. "...But you just said¡­" "Knocked him off a roof. I don''t really know how much more natural you can get than gravity, brah," Sparky shot back, no real heat in his voice. Oof. "Wanna talk about it?" "...No." Greg nodded, understanding his friend''s reluctance. It''s not like I''m jumping at the chance to relive it either, he thought, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Kinda lost my shit a lil. "Felt. My end was crazy too. Kinda lost my shit at the start and squeezed a guy''s skull till it popped." Sparky''s head slowly turned towards Greg, his eyes wide. "What." "Yeah, it was all crazy. There were guns and knives and one of those guys fucked up and set himself on fire, and¡­ basically, yeah, I threw a fire extinguisher on one of them cus it was broken. Fire stopped. I don''t think he died though." "Wow¡­ we''re kinda fucked up, aren''t we?" Sparky mused, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips as he turned back to watch the TV. "Like, big kinda." "Yeah, both wanted for murder," Greg agreed, eyes focused on the show. "Like, multiple counts." "I think you technically count as a serial killer," Sparky mused. "And you''re right there next to me," Greg said with a slightly airy laugh. "...yeah." "Yep." "Mmhmm." A beat of silence passed between them, the gravity of their situation hanging in the air like a thick fog. Sparky was the first to break it, his voice hesitant and unsure. "You think we should get some¡­ like¡­ therapy?" Greg considered the question for a moment. Therapy? Nah, that''s for normal people with normal problems. We''re superheroes. We don''t need therapy. We need¡­ to wreck shit. "...Nah," he finally answered, his tone decisive. "Same," Sparky agreed, a hint of relief in his voice. The sound of the doorbell ringing cut through the silence, startling both boys from their thoughts. Greg tilted his head, a grin spreading across his face as he realized what it meant. "Oh cool, the Chinese food''s early." He glanced over at Sparky, his olive-skinned friend looking back at him with a raised eyebrow and bored golden eyes. "You mind¡­" Sparky rolled his eyes, a long-suffering sigh escaping his lips. "I do, but I''ll get it anyway." As Sparky stood up and made his way out of the living room, Greg focused his attention back on the TV, his eyes drawn to the stunning redhead who played Closer''s assistant. Man, Harvey Specter, you are one lucky cape, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. "YO, GREG!" Sparky''s voice rang out from the front door, pulling Greg from his musings. The blond angled his head towards the sound, his voice carrying across the room. "CASH IS ON THE DINING TABLE, BRO!" "THAT''S NOT IT!" Sparky yelled back, his tone urgent. "SOME FAT KID''S HERE LOOKING FOR YOU!" Protectorate Profile: Miss Militia (ENE-02) MISS MILITIA Name: Hannah Washington Code Name: Miss Militia Age: 33 Affiliation: Protectorate ENE Designation: Hero Location: Brockton Bay Classification: Blaster 6 | Striker 1 Appearance: Miss Militia possesses an athletic physique, olive skin, and medium-length dark hair. Her costume includes stylized army fatigues, complemented by a scarf and sash, both adorned with the American flag. Her eyes are a bright bottle-glass green. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Background: Hana Washington triggered at an age younger than most. She has dedicated her life to the service of others, leveraging her unique capabilities to uphold peace and justice within the Protectorate framework. Ability Title: Mundane Arms Manifestation Ability Assessment: Miss Militia wields a dynamic and semi-sentient energy that she can mold into any form of conventional non-Tinker weaponry at will. This energy, characterized by its green and black hue, exhibits slight vibrations and a semblance of life, often reshaping itself into various armaments in response to perceived threats. The weapons created are not only versatile but also self-replenishing, allowing for instantaneous ''reloading'' or ''unclogging'' by re-summoning the weapon. Notably, her arsenal includes the capability for nonlethal munitions. Threat Assessment: Miss Militia''s power set offers a significant tactical advantage, granting her unparalleled versatility. Her ability to instantly access a wide range of weaponry makes her a formidable opponent in direct combat scenarios but the inherent limitations of non-Tinker conventional arms place boundaries on her overall threat level. Operational Notes: Engagement alongside Miss Militia should acknowledge her rapid armament shift capability and her preference for nonlethal force. Threat Level: Elevated. While not posing an extreme threat, her versatility and adaptability command respect and careful consideration in engagement strategies. Threat Class: C Protectorate Profile: Velocity (ENE-05) Name: Robin Swoyer Code Name: Velocity Age: 28 Affiliation: Protectorate ENE Designation: Hero Location: Brockton Bay Classification: Mover 5 [Breaker] Appearance: Velocity is distinguished by his lean and athletic build, accentuated by a form-fitting red costume adorned with racing stripes and a ''V'' emblem on his chest. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Background: Swoyer''s early life and trigger event remain classified; however, his commitment to using his exceptional abilities for public service led to his induction into the Protectorate. Ability Title: Accelerated Kinetic Phase Variation Ability Assessment: Velocity''s parahuman ability grants him a unique interaction with time, allowing extraordinary speed at the expense of physical impact. This accelerated time state allows immense speed and reflexes, as well as lessened physical impact on his person. However, this same state diminishes his capacity to exert force, rendering direct physical interactions nearly pointless at peak velocity. Threat Assessment: Velocity''s speed and evasion is nearly unmatched in a direct encounter, making him an elusive target in combat scenarios. His ability to reconnoiter, relay information, and disengage from threats swiftly is incredible, considering his rate of perception is equally accelerated. While his offensive capabilities are mitigated at higher velocities, his strategic value in surveillance, rapid response, and non-confrontational engagement is significant. Operational Notes: Engagement protocols involving Velocity should leverage his rapid reconnaissance and hit-and-run tactics, avoiding reliance on his physical strength for direct combat. He is optimal for surveillance, rapid response, and diversionary tactics rather than brute force, where his speed can be utilized to its full potential. Threat Level: Elevated. Velocity''s exceptional speed and evasion capabilities, combined with strategic application of his abilities, present a considerable asset to the Protectorate''s operational efficacy. Threat Class: C+ Lag 6.23c Lag 6.23c Lag 6.23c ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C May 20, 2011 Axel Ramon never liked strangers, and that was a fucking fact. To be real, he never liked most people and for many reasons. Some were too exhausting without being worth it, some were just straight dickheads whether they were hiding it or not, and some¡­ well, some people just pissed him off by existing. The main reason, though, was that people were fake as fuck. They hid who they were, what they thought, what they wanted to say. They put on masks, pretending to be something they weren''t, and it made Sparky''s skin crawl. He didn''t know why but it pissed him off like he wouldn''t believe. These people thought they were smart, or good at it, or whatever, but ¡ª even before his eyes brightened to a new shade of gold and his senses went up to 11 ¡ª he could almost always notice it and it made something inside him go sour. Like right fucking now. Sparky glanced down at the fat kid standing on Greg''s doorstep, frowning at him with narrowed eyes as if somehow expecting him to manifest the Chinese food he was waiting on. The kid was pale, with a bad bowl-cut and a blue hoodie that seemed to swallow his chubby frame. He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting in his pockets and his eyes darting around like he was scared of his shadow. But that was the thing. Sparky could tell, with just a look, that it wasn''t real. The kid was good, and he didn''t doubt that he was naturally quiet - he did have that sort of vibe to him - but this nervousness looked too neat to be real. Kid was a good actor, though. And that immediately got him tense. "...the fuck are you?" Sparky asked, his voice flat and unamused. The fat kid blinked at him with graygrey eyes, his mouth opening slightly and moving without words. Sparky raised an eyebrow, his palm curled around the doorknob as he pulled said door open wider, careful not to squeeze or pull too hard. He still wasn''t sure how strong he was and he had no intention of breaking a door to find out. "...I''m waiting." "I¡­" The boy stammered for a moment, wilting noticeably under Sparky''s glare before glancing behind him for a moment. Sparky''s eyes tracked the sweat on his brow, the slight surprise in his face as the boy took him in for the third time in five times as many seconds, confusion etched into his features. "Am I at the right house?" The chubby blond teen with pale hair and a bad bowl-cut muttered under his breath, glancing around again like he was lost. "I don''t know," Sparky quirked his eyebrow higher, giving him a withering look that screamed ''are you fucking stupid?''. "Are you?" "This¡­ is Greg Veder''s house, right?" The kid asked, his voice wavering slightly. Sparky narrowed his eyes again, the shorter teenager in front of him barely able to suppress the instinctive wince at the sudden shift in expression. Finally, a question I can answer, Sparky thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "YO, GREG!" He shouted, turning his head to the side, his voice carrying into the house. "CASH IS ON THE DINING TABLE, BRO!" Greg''s voice called back, slightly muffled by the walls separating them. Already picked up the cash 15 minutes ago, Sparky snorted to himself. Dumbass never gets the food himself. "THAT''S NOT IT!" he shouted back. "SOME FAT KID''S HERE LOOKING FOR YOU!" For a fraction of a second, Sparky could see the other kid''s face twitch slightly, brow furrowing and mouth twitching as teeth flared for a bare instant, the actual anger behind the insult peeking out. And then it was gone, and the other boy went back to looking nervous, the anxiety looking a lot less real than it had a second before as gray eyes made firm eye contact with Sparky. This guy''s good. It took a second or three but Sparky didn''t blink or flinch as he felt an arm drape itself over his shoulders from behind, the voice accompanying it expected. "Well¡­ well¡­ well, cousin Theo, how you doing? Good?" The chubby kid - Theo, Sparky noted to himself, filing the name away for later - nodded, the motion fast and somewhat jerky as he stared at Greg with slightly widened gray eyes. "Y-yeah, good. I-I''m good." "Really?" Greg asked again, and Sparky could almost hear the smile in his voice, that shit-eating grin that meant he was up to something. "Cus you look kinda nervous." "I-I''m.. I''m not," Theo stammered, and Sparky''s mouth turned down into an obvious frown as the obvious lie left the chubby kid''s lips. Bullshit, he thought, his eyes narrowing. I see you twitching and if I see it, blondie sees it. "That''s good. Good," the blonde on his shoulders said back, his tone light and easy. Sparky cast a gold eye in Greg''s direction, noticing a specific upturn to the grin on his lips that made it look like a grin and a smirk warring for dominance - a look that screamed that Greg was laughing out loud in his own head. He raised one eyebrow in Greg''s direction, doing his best to avoid straight-up asking: What''s goin'' on here? Greg tilted his head slightly in Sparky''s direction, the action barely noticeable as he narrowed his eyes and flicked his blues over in the fat kid''s direction, a sign Sparky understood without needing words. Just roll with it. "You like orange soda, Theo?" the blond asked, waving in the boy waiting on the doorstep ib with one hand as he removed his other from Sparky''s shoulder. His voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something else in it. "I''ve¡­" Theo paused, his gaze flicking from Sparky back to Greg, his focus shifting back into tension as he looked up at the grinning blonde. He stepped into the foyer, anxiously avoiding contact with Greg in a way that Sparky immediately noticed, his eyes tracking the movement with a sharp intensity. "I''ve never had any? My dad doesn''t allow soda." Greg stared at him, his expression flat, his blue eyes boring into Theo''s gray ones. "...what." Sparky immediately rolled his eyes as Greg decided to pull another bit, his hand relaxing around the doorknob as he moved to close the front door. This drama queen, he thought, shaking his head slightly. Always gotta make a scene. Theo flinched noticeably under Greg''s focus, visibly wincing but not turning around at the sound of the door slamming shut behind him. "Is that¡­ bad?" he asked, voice wavering slightly, as his hands fidgeted at his sides. "It''s absolutely terrible." Before the chubby pale-haired blond could react, Greg moved forward, wrapping the shorter kid in a hug that he clearly wasn''t expecting. At least, not from the way his eyes widened, his mouth falling open in a silent ''o'' of surprise. "Uhh-" Theo started, his voice muffled by Greg''s shoulder. "Shhhh." Greg patted his back gently. "We''re gonna fix this, okay?" Gray eyes flicked over to meet gold, a question clear without words. Sparky smirked and mouthed back, "Just roll with it," his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. It''s easier that way, he thought, his mind flashing back to the countless times he''d found himself in similar situations with Greg. The kid blinked but gave him a slight nod, Sparky still unable to help himself as he noted with confusion how calm and focused the other kid immediately got when not in front of Greg, the real nervousness hidden behind a wall of fake shyness. Cousin, huh? Greg pulled away from the hug, his hands firm on Theo''s shoulders as he looked the other boy in the eye, bright blue to gray. "We''re gonna get you some orange soda, big guy," he said, his expression focused and determined. "...Tthank you?" Theo replied, his voice uncertain, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "I don''t need thanks to do what I do," was Greg''s odd response as the blond let go of the chubby boy and gave him a thumbs up, his grin returning full force. "I just do it." With that said, he turned around and headed towards the living room, footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. Said chubby boy turned to face Sparky as Greg kept rounded the corner, his gaze still questioning as his mouth hung open slightly, his expression a mix of bewilderment and disbelief. Sparky let out a slight sigh, and gestured to Theo to follow the other blond, his golden eyes rolling skyward once more. Here we go again, he thought, his feet already moving to catch up with Greg. Another episode of ''The Greg Veder Show''. The two shared a tense look for a moment before Theo started walking and Sparky followed him rounding the corner. A few seconds later, the long-haired boy raised an eyebrow as he spotted the taller and skinnier blonde already sitting on the couch as he poured orange soda from a two-liter bottle into a new red Solo cup on the coffee table in front of him. Greg glanced up, screwing the white cap back onto the half-emptied bottle with a grin. "Theo, come on, grab a cup. Sparks, you too," he said, voice cheerful. Somewhat hesitantly, the chubby boy grabbed the red cup in the middle, Sparky walking past him to grab his own as he sat down next to Greg, the couch cushions sinking under their combined weight. His eyes slid over to Greg, a smirk still on the blond''s face as he took a sip, Theo following right after. "KOF¡­" Gray eyes blinked fast and then slower as Theo let out a cough, Sparky himself snorting at the reaction, his mouth twisting into a wry grin. "...wow." "Tastes good, right?" Greg asked, his smile brightening, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It tastes¡­" the other boy pulled a face, nose wrinkling as he took another sip before continuing again "...like sugar." "Exactly." Greg''s smile widened as he gestured to his left. "So, Theo, this is Sparky. He''s my best friend, almost my brother. He''s also a dick." Sparky''s head snapped towards Greg, his golden eyes narrowed to slits. Did this motherfucker just...? "You''re one to talk," he immediately shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "See, he didn''t deny it," Greg said, his grin turning smug as he glanced back at Theo. Sparky opened his mouth to retort, a scathing comeback on the tip of his tongue, only to pause as he realized the truth in Greg''s statement. Fuck, he''s got me there. "...fFuck," he muttered, shoulders slumping not in realization, but from Greg winning that little verbal battle. "Hehehe," Greg snorted, his attention shifting back to Theo as he gestured to the chubby blond. "Sparky, this is Theo Anders, my godbrother, my best friend before you, and pretty much my cousin. We were in diapers together." If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Sparky''s eyes snapped back to Theo, his long hair falling into his face before he brushed it back with an impatient hand. "Godbrother?" he asked, his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. How the hell have I never heard of this guy before? A moment later, golden eyes widened slightly as a realization hit him like a freight train. "Anders?" he said, his voice rising in pitch as he connected the dots. As in, the Anders family? The richest fuckers in Brockton Bay? "Yeah, same Anders," Greg answered, his words confirming Sparky''s suspicions before he could vocalize them further. "Our dads have beenwere like buddies since they were kids. Went to private school together. They''re still best friends." The blond screwed up his face before continuing, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "But they also hate each other, like a lot. It''s¡­ weird." "Yeah," Theo agreed, nodding his head as he took another sip of his orange soda, his expression thoughtful. "It is." "I remember I was like ten and my dad called yours an uptight pretentious pussy who couldn''t relax even if someone massaged his balls every time he made a dollar," Greg continued, a snort of laughter escaping his lips at the memory. Theo nodded, a slightly uncomfortable smile on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "And mine said that yours was a worthless bastard with more concussions than brain cells." "Yeah," Greg laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That was a great birthday." The blond''s smile faded slightly as he tilted his head to the side, his gaze focusing on Theo with an intensity that made Sparky''s skin crawl. Here we go, he thought, flicking his gaze from Greg to Theo, watching as the chubby boy froze under the sudden scrutiny. "So... why''re you here, Theo?" Sparky leaned back against the couch cushions, his arms crossing over his chest. This should be good, he thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I¡­" Theo stammered, the sudden question clearly catching him off guard. "...What? I mean, I¡­" "We both know your dad doesn''t like me," Greg interrupted, his voice casual but his eyes noticeably icey. "I know that for sure. And I know there''s no way you''re here without asking him. We both know you don''t have the balls for that, no offense." Damn, Greg, way to pull your punches, Sparky thought, his eyebrows rising at the blunt statement. Theo frowned, his gaze dropping to the cup of orange soda in his hand. "..." he said nothing for a moment, his fingers tightening around the plastic. "Some taken." "Fair," Greg nodded, before shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of nonchalance. "But also, I don''t care." Sparky snorted, a chuckle escaping his lips despite his best efforts to remain stoic. I love not being on the other end of him, he thought. It''s really funny to see this happen to somebody else. "Why''re you here, Theo?" Greg repeated, his tone just as uncaring as before. Theo was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the orange liquid in his cup as if it held the answers Greg was looking for. "...I did ask my dad by the way," he finally said, raising his gaze to meet Greg''s. "He said yes. Before you ask why," he continued, forestalling Greg''s obvious next question with a raised hand, "he thinks that being around you will teach me¡­ some of the same lessons being around your dad taught him." Sparky watched as Greg frowned for half a second, his brow furrowing in thought before his expression cleared, a smile spreading across his face as his eyes lit up with barely contained laughter. "O...oh, wow, my dad was right. Your dad is a dick." Sparky jabbed his elbow into Greg''s side, drawing the blond''s attention. "Explain." Greg smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "His dad thinks being around me will piss Theo off and make him stand up for himself." Sparky''s eyes narrowed as he mulled over the idea in his head, his gaze darting from the uncomfortable-looking Theo to the smirking Greg. It''s a dick move, sure, he thought, but¡­ "I...is he wrong?" he asked, voice more thoughtful than teasing. "Dick." Greg let out a snort of laughter, his head shaking in amusement. After a few seconds, his laughter trailed away, and he turned his attention back to Theo, his blue eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "But seriously, come on, you can quit fucking with me, T-Dog." ''T-Dog'' blinked at the nickname, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "I¡­" The skinnier blond stared his godbrother down, his eyes serious despite the smile that still played on his lips. "Why you really here, Theo?" he repeated, his voice taking on a harder edge. "I¡­" Theo began again, only to pause, clearing his throat as he took another sip from the cup in his hands. Nervous little fucker, isn''t he? Sparky thought, watching as the chubby boy''s fingers tightened around the plastic. The longer he stood there in silence, Sparky could visibly see real nervousness creeping over his mask of shyness again, said mask crumbling under the weight of Greg''s intense focus. Dude''s definitely hiding something, Sparky mused, golden eyes narrowing as he took in the beads of perspiration forming on Theo''s brow. Gray eyes darted over to Sparky, and for a moment, the two locked gazes, a silent communication passing between them. What the fuck are you hiding? Theo''s eyes widened slightly, and he quickly looked away, his gaze shifting back to his godbrother sitting next to Sparky. "It''s¡­ private," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Oh." Greg frowned at that, the smile draining from his face like water from a leaky faucet. He slowly turned to face Sparky, his expression troubled. "Ummm¡­ you mind giving us a m-" He paused, one eyebrow jumping up slightly before his brow furrowed a moment later, a thought seeming to occur to him. The golden-haired blond turned back to his pale-haired cousin, a curious look on his face. "Wait¡­ is this secret yours or¡­ mine?" Sparky couldn''t help but flinch slightly at the emphasis on the last word, the oddly deep near-growl in Greg''s voice making both him and Theo straighten up like soldiers at attention in unison. The fuck was that about? Theo gulped, his Adam''s apple bobbing in his throat. "Y...yours." The fuck. Sparky''s eyes narrowed to slits, his mind whirling with the implications of that single word. If this is what I think it is¡­ "Then Sparky can stay," Greg answered, his blue eyes still locked onto his godbrother with a focused expression that Sparky had rarely seen on his friend''s face. "He can¡­?" Theo glanced at Sparky again, a question clear in both his eyes and his words. One he wasted no time in voicing after a moment''s pause. "He knows?" "Depending on what it is, he knows a lot," Sparky said, once again forcing the chubby boy''s attention onto him. If it is what I think it is¡­ he thought, his mind already jumping to conclusions. Greg nodded, his expression grim. "Sparky knows enough. But that''s ''cause I tell him¡­ usually." "Usually," Sparky echoed, his voice flat. "It''s ''cause I believe in honesty, transparency, truthfulness," Greg said, his tone almost mocking. "All lies, but okay," Sparky chimed in, his mind flashing back to all the times his friend had lied, omitted the truth, or just straight-up bullshitted his way through a situation. Greg didn''t bother answering back to that, his blue eyes still focused on Theo with the intensity of a laser beam. "Question is, how do you know, Theodor?" "I¡­" Sparky watched as the nervousness peaked in Theo''s face for a moment, his hands trembling at the sides of his pale blue hoodie. Then, the chubby boy let out a quick, slight breath through his nose and seemed to forcibly still himself, somehow calming down almost immediately as emotion bled out of his face and body. Huh, Sparky blinked. That''s¡­ It was almost like the opposite of how Greg seemed to be, where the blond could jump from emotion to emotion, joking to angry in a half-second, Theo seemed to lose all emotion and just go blank. That''s creepy as fuck. "I thought I was T-Dog?" Theo questioned calmly, his gray eyes not cold, and not bored either, but definitely unbothered. Like he just flipped a switch and turned off his feelings, Sparky mused, his brow furrowing slightly. "You might be¡­" Greg began, blue eyes narrowed further, his voice taking on a harder edge, "...if you tell me what I want to know." Theo stared blankly for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he said one word. "Bathroom." What the fuck? Greg blinked in confusion, and Sparky could visibly watch in real-time as Greg''s face fast-forwarded through a series of emotions that he doubted Theo managed to catch a quarter of. Confusion, realization, shock, horror, embarrassment, Sparky ticked them off in his head as they flashed across Greg''s face. Finally, all the apprehension and seriousness vanished from the blond''s features as his expression settled on shame. "...Noooo." The stretched out word left Greg''s mouth in an embarrassed whisper, his cheeks flushing a dull red. A ghost of an actual smile flickered on Theo''s face, there and gone again in an instant. "Yes." Sparky''s jaw slackened slightly as the pieces fell into place. You idiot, he thought, his eyes widening in disbelief. You absolute fucking moron. Greg let out a slight groan, dragging his hand down his face as he did so, his fingers pulling at his skin. "The stall?" he asked, his voice muffled by his palm. "The stall," Theo answered quickly, his tone almost smug. This fucking idiot, Sparky repeated in his head. "And you saw me¡­" Greg trailed off, his eyes squeezing shut as if he could block out the reality of the situation. Theo nodded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Finger guns? Yeah." Greg inhaled loudly through his nose for a second as he rose to his feet, his hands coming to rest on his hips in a pose that was probably meant to look confident but just came across as awkward. "Did I at least look cool?" he asked, a hopeful note in his voice. "...Sure," Theo replied after a moment''s hesitation. Hands came together in a single loud clap, Greg nodding at Theo''s affirmation. "I''ll take it," he said, a grin spreading across his face. Alright, this is getting annoying. Sparky chose now to chime in, rising to his feet to meet the other two, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "You''re a fucking idiot, brah," he said, his voice flat and unamused. Greg glanced over at Sparky, a look of mock hurt on his face. "You''re like a broken record, you know that?" "Eat my dick, blondie," Sparky shot back, his tone venomous. "You''d love that, wouldn''t you?" Greg retorted, sticking his tongue out. "But enough about your dreams. Let''s focus on reality." Sparky narrowed his eyes as he pointed at Theo, his finger jabbing accusingly in the chubby boy''s direction. "The reality where you exposed your identity to Augustus Gloop in a bathroom?" "Wh-" Theo started to respond, his face twisting in indignation at the insult, but Greg spoke over him, his voice loud and fast. "Obviously, bro, keep up. I thought I was supposed to be the fucking idiot here," he said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to face his slightly annoyed-looking cousin/godbrother, the chubby boy still glaring at Sparky. "Also, Theo, no offense." "Some taken," Theo replied, his tone clipped. Sparky shot him a look with glazed-over eyes, matching Theo''s look of disdain with one of boredom. "You''ll get over it, Chunk," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Gray eyes narrowed in his direction. "Is the only reason you''re so rude is because you think you look like a girl?" Theo asked, his voice deceptively calm. Sparky twitched, involuntarily taking a single step forward as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Motherfucker, he thought, his blood boiling in his veins. After a moment, he caught himself before he took another step, noticing Greg staring at him with slight worry and widened eyes. He got me, he actually got me, he thought to himself, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He glanced down at his own clenched fists before he looked up again at the fat teen on the other side of the coffee table. There was silence for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. "Good hit," Sparky finally said, a grin spreading across his face. Then he laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "I like you." Chubs has an edge, okay. And he struck a nerve, he admitted to himself, a grudging respect blooming in his chest. "Well¡­ I don''t hate you," Theo replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That''s all I need," Sparky shot him a slight smile that the other boy reciprocated, a silent understanding passing between them. Greg glanced between both of them, his head snapping back and forth like a tennis match, his blond hair flopping with each movement. At the end of the exchange, he grinned at the both of them, his teeth flashing white in the light of the living room. "You know what''s happening here? We''re sailing a friendship." "What?" "Huh?" Sparky and Theo both glanced at him, confusion clear on their faces, their eyebrows knitting together in near-identical expressions of bewilderment. "The S.S. Get Along," Greg clarified with a wide grin. The living room was silent for a good few seconds as both boys blinked at him, the only sound in the room coming from the commercial for Mucinex blaring loudly on the television, the animated mucus monster''s voice grating on Sparky''s nerves. This guy¡­ Sparky thought, eyes rolling. "Bite me, both of you," Greg pulled a face at the clear lack of appreciation for his joke, bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. "Theo, is that it? That why you here?" The other blond raised his eyebrows, his expression shifting from confusion to something more serious. "Well¡­ yeah, I wanted to help you with your¡­ work." "My work," Greg echoed, nodding with a sudden solemnity that Sparky knew was more affected than anything else. "Our work," Sparky corrected, his voice firm. "Our work?" Theo shot him a curious glance, his head tilting to the side, his gray eyes questioning. Sparky didn''t hesitate. The olive-skinned boy leapt up and backwards, his long hair fanning out behind him as he took advantage of the tall ceiling in the Veder living room and curled his body backwards in a flip. His feet left the ground, both soles nearly grazing the high ceiling before he tucked his legs into his chest in a full rotation. A full second later,Sparky landed behind the couch by the stairs in a classic three-point landing, knees bent to absorb the impact. He straightened up as he raised his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in Theo''s wide-eyed expression. "Our work," he repeated, his voice smug as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh." The chubby blond nodded slowly, the movement still slightly unsteady as he kept his gaze locked onto Sparky, his mouth hanging open slightly in shock. "Yeah," Sparky said, his smirk widening, his eyebrows rising in a silent challenge. "Yeah," Greg echoed with a smile, drawing Theo''s attention again, his voice cheerful. "I know you came here to help me, Theo. But I have a counter-offer." "Counter-offer?" Theo blinked, clearly confused at the wording, his brow furrowing once more. "Ignore that," Sparky cut in, walking around the couch to stand at Greg''s side again, his strides long and purposeful. He delivered a punch to the other boy''s arm, his fist connecting with a solid thunk. "He''s been watching too much CAPES." Greg rubbed his arm, his eyes narrowing as he shot Sparky a glare that the other boy rolled his eyes at, well aware that Greg didn''t even feel that. Drama queen, he thought, a snort of laughter escaping his lips. "Like I was saying," Greg began again, his voice louder, his tone insistent. "My counter-offer¡­" Theo nodded slowly again, his expression still uncertain. "Yeah?" "You wanna be a cape, Theo?" Lag 6.23d Lag 6.23d ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "Wh-what." Theo''s not-question hung in the air, the silence of the room interrupted only by the blaring theme song of another episode of CAPES starting up as the marathon continued on the TV. Indie rock filled the room, but Greg paid it no mind, his focus entirely on the chubby boy in front of him. Greg smirked. "I didn''t stutter. You did, though." "What the fuck are you doing?" A voice hissed at him from his left, the words sharp and biting. Carefully ignoring the focused glare of his best friend''s gold eyes boring a figurative hole through the side of his face, Greg kept his own blues focused on his godbrother. Theo looked straight at him with shock and confusion, his mouth hanging open slightly, his eyebrows knitted together as he clearly tried to wrap his brain around the offer. Sparky''s glare, on the other hand, was a mix of shock and anger, his lips pressed into a thin line. The offer wasn''t one that Greg was making on a whim, despite how it seemed. Theo''s perfect for what I need, he thought, his mind racing with the possibilities. "I''m building our forces," Greg began, his eyes still focused on Theo, a smile playing on his face. The other two boys blinked in confusion, Theo more so than Sparky, until both realized that Greg was responding more to one than the other. Theo''s expression was still one of dull shock. Sparky, however, stood there with a single eye twitching in irritation. Greg wasn''t going to lie. As much fun as messing with people was, he didn''t just do it to make them angry or for his own enjoyment. While he did get a huge kick out of messing around the way he did, more than anything else, when he dropped a non-sequitur into a conversation or acted off, the best part was that it threw off the path of conversation and gave him at least a second or two to think. And right now, he needed all the time he could get. He knew Sparky wouldn''t like the idea of him offering powers to anyone else, even though he had been thinking hard about the idea since the night he had used it on Sparky. Not only had it worked, but it had worked better than he thought. He had managed to keep Emma from dying with it, after all. Stabilized her, even. He didn''t even know what he was doing and it still¡­ Sheer dumb luck. It had saved her life. His girl had pretty much had her chest torn open, her ribs broken and stabbing her insides, internal bleeding everywhere including her brain, and a shattered skull. All he had to do was lay hands on her and¡­ glow it up, and she was¡­ I kept her alive. Greg swallowed hard, pushing the image of Emma''s broken body out of his mind with a barely-hidden shudder. Sparky, on the other hand, had some injuries, but a stab wound and a gunshot were the worst of it, as shitty as that was to say. Even then, Greg had poured in at least two or three times more energy into Sparky than he had into Emma. It wasn''t Reinforcement or anything. No, that works half as well as Capegoat for actually keeping a person together, he thought, recalling the shitty perk that was more trouble than it was worth for any injury that wasn''t a simple wound. No, it was just flooding Sparky''s system with as much Mana and Will as he could take and all Greg had to give. It worked, Greg thought, a sense of bitter pride swelling in his chest. It had. And he had pulled Sparky back to life with powers and with no wounds to show for it, and all his friend needed was a long nap. But Emma¡­ Greg''s thoughts trailed off. She was stable, yes, but she wasn''t healed. Not completely. Not like Sparky. Greg kept the smile on his face as both boys looked at him with confused and annoyed expressions respectively, nobody actually aware of where his thoughts were going, as usual. He liked it that way, for many reasons. They don''t need to know everything. Not yet, anyway. He needed more¡­ data points? Test subjects? He needed to try and do his glowy thing-y on more people to see if Sparky was a fluke, or if he was simply better at¡­ that thing now. Meaning that he could try again¡­ he could fix¡­ he could¡­ Greg''s smile wavered slightly, his eyes darting to the side as he considered his options. He had been considering Seo for the third try, the constant [Analyze]''s on his second-in-command letting him know that the man was more likely to walk into Hookwolf''s arms for a hug than betray him, but with Theo here and now¡­ It''s too perfect, he thought, his smile widening again. Theo''s the perfect candidate. He''s practically family, he''s trustworthy, and he''s already in the know. Plus¡­ the other stuff. "I''m building our forces," he echoed, his voice taking on a grandiose tone as he spread his arms wide. "This city needs young men of good moral quality, and brave hearts who are willing to stand up f-" "NO!" Sparky cut in, not even humoring him. "NO! Not right now! Just be real for five seconds¡­" Five seconds, "I know, I know, I just like saying stuff like that out loud." Greg raised an eyebrow as he shared a look with a still-stunned Theo. I can do that. "Fine. I think Theo''s a cool dude and I figure why not?" "That''s not a good reason," Sparky shot back, his voice rising in pitch. "Come on, Sparky. We''re already two wild outlaws, the dos bandidos," the blond said, finally glancing over at his friend. "With him, we could be the tres criminales." "I-I''d rather not be a criminal," Theo''s oddly quiet, distant voice made itself heard, words barely audible over the sound of the TV. "Tres amigos," Greg corrected, without skipping a beat or looking away from Sparky. "And he''s bilingual, great resume." "I don''t speak Spanish, it was just¡­ obvious," Theo said, his voice still quiet, his expression still stunned. Still ignoring Theo, Greg tried to make Sparky listen, voice almost pleading. "We need a third mind, a super-ego to our id and ego." "Do you even know what that means?" Sparky shot back. Greg pulled a face, one eyebrow raised as he looked at his friend. "Yeah, I''ve read Freud. I read a lot. I have a lot of time on night patrols. Do you know what it means?" "...No," Sparky admitted, voice low as he blushed slightly. "Okay, then," Greg said, unable to help his smug smirk. "Now, Theo," he turned on his heel, his attention shifting back to his cousin, "What do you say?" Theo stared back, his gray eyes blank as he looked as if his entire understanding of the world had just been upended. "Y¡­You can give me powers?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. After a second, he took a low breath and added in a much quieter voice: "Permanently?" "On a scale of yes to no¡­" Greg grinned back, restraining himself from smiling too-wide. He was well aware he had an issue with more teeth in his mouth than should be there recently. Probably. "Yes." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Gray eyes narrowed at that answer before Theo shifted his attention to Sparky, his expression intense. "He gave you powers?" Sparky nodded slowly, arms crossed over his chest as his gaze flicked over to Greg for a moment before settling back on Theo. "Yeah¡­ to save my life. Some E88 fucks kidnapped me and almost killed me, till blue-eyes showed up and sent them packing." Theo stared hard and long at Sparky at those words, his expression unreadable. Finally, the chubby boy let out a long, low hiss, shoulders slumping slightly as he seemed to come to a decision. "...Okay." Greg tilted his head to the side, a curious expression on his face as he studied his cousin''s reaction. "Is that an ''okay, I''ll accept powers'' or¡­" he trailed off, letting the unfinished question hang in the air. Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands fidgeting at his sides as he seemed to struggle with his words. "It''s an ''okay, I believe you,''" he finally said, his voice slightly strained, as if he couldn''t quite believe what he was saying. "It''s an ''okay, I think I trust you''." "Why would I lie?" "Idon''tknow," Theo replied, the three words coming out in a rush as he stared at Greg with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Maybe because c-c-capes that can hand out powers permanently are kind of a big deal, maybe. Like shoot this guy in the head before he makes a cape army big deal," the chubby boy continued, the last sentence almost a whisper. " Greg pulled a face. "That''s kinda of an overreaction, don''t you think?" "Overrea-" Theo paused, eyes widening as he took another deep breath, in a clear attempt to calm himself. "Power granters are a big deal, man. Even Othala has to deal with kidnapping attempts and the powers she gives out burn out faster than the time it takes to boil an egg!" His voice rose with each word, hands tight at his sides. "Can you imagine? Permanent powers that you''re just handing out to people you think are cool? Who would do that?" Greg blinked, his mind racing as Theo spoke. Kidnapping attempts? he thought, his brow furrowing slightly. I didn''t know that was a thing. Othala wasn''t really a powerful cape, especially compared to the few decently strong parahumans the Empire kept in its roster. Given that she was literally useless in a direct fight by herself, the cape in the skintight red bodysuit wouldn''t at all be a real member if it wasn''t for the fact that she could literally hand out powers. "Imagine how tired I am," Sparky suddenly spoke up, voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes in Greg''s direction. "Imagine how tired I am." "Wait¡­" he said, his voice slow and thoughtful. "People tried to kidnap Othala?" He shook his head, his blond hair flopping into his eyes with the motion. "When did that happen?" Theo turned to stare at him, his gray eyes widening again. "I just¡­ I heard¡­" he stammered, his words coming out in fits and starts as he licked his lips. Greg watched him with a raised eyebrow, noting the way his godbrother''s face remained oddly still despite the visible anxiety in his body. Yeah, I gotta toughen this guy up. "You know, on Parahumans Online¡­" Theo continued, one hand waving through the air in a vague motion as the other was clenched at his sides. "...the forums¡­ they talk, you know, about stuff like that. I think it was on her wiki, at some point¡­ yeah¡­" he trailed off, his voice growing quieter with each word, eyes darting away from Greg''s own. "...Okay," Greg nodded, his voice slightly slower than usual. "Must have missed it. Haven''t really been using PHO in a while." "So¡­" Theo spoke up again, his voice slightly steadier, his eyes meeting Greg''s once more. "What powers do you give out?" Greg grinned. "Well, as far as I know, the powers I give out are highly increased senses, a stronger and faster body, general resistance to pain, and faster healing, stamina and immune system. When I say stronger, I mean like lifting half a ton and running as fast as a car, no joke." He leaned forward slightly , one arm in the front pocket of his jacket as he stared Theo up and down. "I''m pretty sure you can make yourself stronger by pushing yourself too." "Yep," Sparky chimed in, raising two fingers from where he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice flat and unamused. Theo stared at them both, his eyes so wide that Greg was surprised they hadn''t rolled out of his skull. "Huh," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "All of that? You give a Brute, Thinker and a Mover package? " "Yep," Greg replied, his grin widening, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "And no side effects?" Theo asked, his voice hesitant, his brow furrowing slightly. "Nope¡­" Greg began, only to pause, eyes widening slightly as a thought occurred to him. He turned slowly to face Sparky, his gaze locking onto the other boy''s unnaturally bright golden eyes. "Welllll¡­," he drawled, his voice taking on a slightly sheepish tone. "Visible side effects include an increase in the depth and intensity of your eye color. Maybe a different color entirely, it depends. And you''ll be hungrier for a bit." Sparky nodded. "Also, migraines from the enhanced senses. Takes a while to get used to ''em," he added, raising two fingers slightly again. "Just take some Tylenol and you''ll be fine after the first couple days. Bitch and a half till then though." Greg winced slightly at the memory of Sparky''s first few days with his new powers, the other boy''s complaints about the constant headaches and sensitivity to light and sound still fresh in his mind. Maybe I should have warned him about that beforehand, he thought, a slight twinge of guilt tugging at his chest. Then again, it''s not like I knew it was gonna happen either. He shook his head, pushing the thought aside as he turned his attention back to Theo. "So, what do you say, cuz?" he asked, his voice taking on the heroic tone and slight British accent he used as Sir Prodigy. "Are you ready to join the ranks of the superpowered? A vanguard against evil? My pantheon of just-" "Stop," Sparky''s voice interrupted him bluntly. "Party-pooper." Theo shifted his weight again, his eyes darting between Greg and Sparky, his expression one of intense consideration. Greg could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Theo let out a long, slow breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he seemed to come to a decision. "...okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes locking onto Greg''s with a mix of trepidation and excitement. "I''m in." +1 CHA Greg felt the grin on his face grow, the look of it definitely not normal as Theo flinched and stepped back at the sight of it. "Perfect." He rushed forward, startling Theo again as his cousin let out a sudden squawk at the sight of him appearing in a blur. "Wha-" "Shhhhhh," Greg began, resting one palm over his godbrother''s heart as the other cupped the side of his head. "Relax, Theo¡­" Blue light began to pool around one palm as gold light shone from the other, "and embrace eternity!" I''ve always wanted to say that. Cutscene: Depth Cutscene: Depth ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C You stare into the eyes of the boy in front of you, bright blue eyes that seem to glow with knowledge and secrets, and then you feel something shift through your body, a sensation that starts at the base of your spine and crawls upwards, tingling and electric, like a thousand ants marching beneath your skin. The room you''re standing in falls away, the walls and floor and ceiling dissolving into nothingness, and you''re falling, falling through a blue sky that stretches on forever, an endless expanse of azure that fills your vision and your mind and your soul. You try to scream, but nothing comes out, because you can''t breathe, because you''re falling too fast, the wind whipping past your face and stinging your eyes, tears filling them and blurring your vision, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of blue and white and emptiness. And then you land, but you don''t stop falling. You''re in an endless alien sea that looks like stars, the water glittering and shimmering with pinpricks of light that dance and swirl around you, and you''re sinking deeper and deeper into the darkness, pulled down by an invisible force that you can''t see or feel or understand. You try to struggle, to swim upwards, to reach for the surface that you know must be there somewhere, but your limbs are heavy and sluggish, and the water fills your lungs, choking you, drowning you, even as you continue to breathe, the air coming in sharp, painful gasps that tear at your throat and your chest. The darkness is all around you now, a thick, inky blackness that swallows you whole, and you look up, desperate for some sign of light or life or hope, but there''s nothing, just the stars fading away as you fall deeper and deeper into the abyss, the weight of the water pressing down on you, crushing you, until you feel like you might implode from the pressure. And then you stop, and you''re floating in the darkness, your body suspended in the depths, no ground beneath your feet, no surface above your head, just an endless expanse of nothingness that stretches out in every direction, a void that threatens to consume you, to swallow you whole and never let you go. But then the darkness shifts, and you see it. A massive blue eye, bigger than you, bigger than anything you''ve ever seen, so large that you''re almost a speck in comparison, a tiny, insignificant speck of dust floating in the vastness of the universe. The eye shifts, and then it looks at you, and you look back, unable to do anything else, your body frozen in place, your mind reeling with the impossibility of what you''re seeing. You stare into the eye, and you realize that it''s familiar, that you''ve seen that blue before, glowing and all-knowing, a blue that''s as blue as anything can be. You try to speak, to ask what''s happening, to beg for answers or mercy or something, anything, but your voice is gone, swallowed up by the darkness and the silence and the weight of that massive, unblinking eye. And then you feel it again, that sensation of something shifting through your body, a tingling that starts in your toes and works its way up, up, up, until it reaches your head and explodes behind your eyes in a burst of light and color and sound. You gasp, and you breathe in water, delicious sweet water that fills your lungs and clears your head and makes you feel alive for the first time, alive and awake and here, wherever here is. But the eye is still there, still watching you, still boring into your soul with its unblinking gaze, and you know that this is just the beginning, that there''s more to come, more to see and feel and experience in this strange, alien world that you''ve found yourself in. You take a deep breath, and you steel yourself for whatever comes next, knowing that you have no choice but to face it, to confront the unknown and the unknowable and hope that you come out the other side intact, or at least alive. The eye blinks, once, twice, three times, and then it''s gone, vanished into the darkness as quickly as it appeared, leaving you alone once more, alone with your thoughts and your fears and the echoes of that word, that single word that seems to hold the key to everything and nothing all at once. You float there, in the darkness, in the silence, in the emptiness, and you wonder what it all means, what any of it means, if anything means anything at all in this strange, surreal world that you''ve stumbled into. You close your eyes, and you try to remember how you got here, how you ended up in this place, but your memories are hazy and fragmented, like a dream that''s already starting to fade away in the light of day. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. But then you hear it, a sound that cuts through the silence like a knife, a sound that makes your heart race and your blood run cold. It''s a voice, a whisper, a murmur that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, a voice that speaks directly into your mind, bypassing your ears and your brain and going straight to your soul. "Eternity," it says, and you shudder, because you know that voice, you''ve heard it before, in another life, another world, another time and place that seems so far away now, so distant and unreachable. "Embrace eternity." And then the darkness shifts again, and you''re falling once more, falling through the stars and the void and the nothingness, falling into the unknown, into the abyss, into the heart of the mystery that surrounds you, that consumes you, that threatens to tear you apart and put you back together again in ways that you can''t even begin to imagine. You fall, and you fall, and you keep falling, until you can''t tell which way is up or down, left or right, forward or backward, until the only thing that exists is the falling itself, the sensation of hurtling through space and time and reality, of being pulled apart and put back together again, over and over and over, until you''re nothing more than a collection of atoms and molecules and bits of stardust, floating in the endless expanse of the universe. And through it all, that word echoes in your mind, that single, solitary word that seems to hold the key to everything and nothing, the word that haunts you, that taunts you, that calls to you from the depths of the abyss. Eternity. You gasp, and you breathe in air. "...You¡­ you okay there, Theo?" Theo. His brain seems to buzz and then go silent as sound returns, vision, smell, feeling, all of it. "Theo?" Who? "T-Dog?" Theodor Heathcliff Anders blinked and looked into a pair of blue eyes, watching and waiting for an answer. He blinked. Silver eyes blinked. He - Theo - blinked at the same time as the blue - Greg - blinked. His skin tingled, electricity running beneath his skin, in his veins, as he flexed his fingers and toes, staring forward. He opened his mouth and tasted air, moved his tongue and formed his first word. "...yeah¡­ I," Theo blinked several times, staring at the room around him as if seeing it for the first time. No, as if seeing for the first time. "I think... so. Why?" He feels¡­ wetness. Fingers dab at his eyes and ears and just below his nose. Silver eyes blink again as those fingers come away with something that feels like blood, but looks¡­ like ink or oil or something too black to be from a human body. Huh. He can''t hide his interest as he plays with it, the blackness staining his palms and fingers. After a few moments, he blinks up at blue - Greg - and asks again, still patiently waiting on an answer to his first question. "Why?" Greg opened his mouth, an odd look crossing over his face as he looked past Theo. Theo turned to follow his gaze, eyes meeting those of the - gold - other boy on the far end of the room, forming the sign of the cross with his fingers. "Uhhhhhhhhhh¡­" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C "?H.. ?d?i?d?n?''?t? ?e?x?p?e?c?t?-?"? ?"?H?o?w? ?d?o?e?s?n?''?t? ?t?h?a?t? ?e?x?i?s?t? ?i?n?-?"? "???????W?????h????y??????? ???????a?????????r???e??????? ?????????w????????e?????? ??????o?????n??????? ?????????E??????a?????r???-?????????"???? ??????"?????T???????h?????i??????s???????? ?????i?????s????????n??????''??????t????? ??????h???????o???w???? ???????t????h?????i?????????n???????g????????s??????? ????????s??????h???????o???????u????l????d?????????-?????"???????? "???????Y???????o???u?????????? ??????d?????o????????????n??????????''????????t??????????? ???????????r????????e????????a????????l????????l?????y???????? ???????e??????x????????i???????-????????"?????? ?????????"???????????I???????? ??????D??????????O???????N???????''??????T?????? ?????E??????????X???????I???????????S??????T???????????"?????????? ????????"??????????T??????????H??????I?????????????S??????????? ???????????W????????O??????????R????????????L?????D??????? ????????I?????????S??????? ??????????A?????N???????? ??????I?????????L??????????L???????U?????????S????I??????O????????N??????"?????? "??????????????????????????????????I?????????????????????????? ????????????????C??????????????????????????????A???????????????????????????N???????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????S???????????????E???????????????????????????E????????????????????????????????????????????? ?????????????????E??????????????????????V??????????????????????????????????E?????????R?????????????????????????Y????????????????????????????????????????T?????????????????H???????????????????????????????????I??????????????????????N????????????????????????????????????G???????????????????????????????"?????????????????????????? ???????????????????"????????????????????????????????????I???????????????????????????????? ?????????????C???????????????????????????A???????????????????????????????N???????????? ??????????????????????????????????????????S??????????????????????????????????????????????E????????????????????????????????E???????????????????????????????????????????? ????????????????????????I?????????????????????????????????T??????????????? ???????????????????????????A?????????????????????????L????????????????????????????????L????????????????????????????????????????????????!?????????"?????????????????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????????????????"?????????????????????????????????????????H????????????????????????????a????????????????????????????????????????a????????????h????????a?????????????????????????????????????????????H????????????????????????????????????????A????????????????????????H???????????????????????????A???????????????????????H????????????????????????????????????A??????????????????????!?????????????????????????????????????????????"???????????????????????????? "HAHAHAAAHAHAAHAHA-!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Greg Veder shut his mouth, shooting his godbrother a wide smile that looked extremely strained. "No reason at all. Let me get you some wet wipes." Cutscene: Introspection IV Cutscene: Introspection IV ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The salad in front of him ¡ª a meticulous arrangement of greens, cherry tomatoes, and precisely sliced grilled chicken ¡ª appeared more like a well-composed still life than food. He stabbed at it mechanically, lifting a forkful of green to his mouth, the textures and flavors barely registering despite the flavor making his neurons spark with recognition. Bringing his fork down to his meal again, he found the act of cutting into the fibrous tissue of the chicken required a precise manipulation of the opposite utensil that felt strangely cumbersome in his grasp. Truthfully, both did. The metal tool in his left hand hung rather limply despite his firm grip, the thin object extending downwards before widening, the end of it separating into much thinner sections. It felt¡­ limited. Specialized? He allowed himself a slight nod. That seemed more accurate. Across from him, his father''s mouth moved, the words reaching his ears with a clarity that seemed almost unnatural. "I assume your afternoon was as taxing as I expected," Max Anders spoke, his tone carrying the casual dominance of a man expecting to be listened to, the vibrations of his voice traveling across the room and hitting the boy''s eardrums with an almost palpable force, leaving silver eyes blinking as he felt his brain react, dissecting the phenomenon ¡ª waves transmitted through a medium, encountering the tympanic membrane, inducing a cascade of biological responses resulting in the perception of sound. "Yes," he replied, the word a mere product of learned social response, devoid of any real meaning or emotion. His mind seemed to be operating on a different level, analyzing the interaction with a detached, almost clinical precision. "You''re quiet today," his father remarked, the words registering in his mind as little more than a series of vibrations, stripped of their intended significance. "Just thinking," he answered, his thoughts drifting to the events of the afternoon, to the panic in Greg''s eyes and the way Sparky''s hands had shaken as they both tried to stem the flow of black blood from his nose and ears. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Sparky stared at Theo with wide eyes as he dabbed the tears away from his eyes with a clean napkin, several others stained jet black with the thick inky blood that had poured from his other orifices. The boy with gold eyes took in a deep raggedy breath as he clung to the far wall. "I think I''m having a panic attack." His godbrother stared at the black blood for a moment, glowing blue eyes clearly fascinated, before his eyes flicked away from Theo and over to his best friend for a single second that seemed to stretch out for far longer and slowly nodded. "...yes. You are." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? As if any of it matters, he mused, his brain dissecting the vibrations of speech and reducing them to meaningless noise, each syllable analyzed for its phonetic components rather than its semantic meaning, layered back together in a way that rendered the conversation almost surreal. "And Gregory?" The sound waves from his father''s careful speech pattern did little more than stir the air around him, the boy''s mind visualizing them as mathematical models of waveforms expanding and contracting, the intricacies of the phenomenon more captivating than the actual content of the question. "What did you do with him today?" "...he took me running," he answered, his voice a monotone that mirrored the numbness spreading through his thoughts, the memory of the wind rushing past his face as he ran, faster than he''d ever moved before, the world blurring around him in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. "Not much to talk about." Forks scraped against plates, the sound grating against his heightened senses, each scratch and scrape magnified to an almost unbearable degree. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, a metronome marking the passage of time, each second stretching out into an eternity as he sat there, lost in his own thoughts, the world moving relentlessly forward around him, regardless of his internal stagnation. He blinked, the action suddenly noticeable in a way it had never been before, an awareness of his own bodily functions that seemed to border on the obsessive. It was like watching someone else blink, he realized, the movement feeling separate from his own consciousness. He blinked again, the sensation strange and unfamiliar, as if his eyelids were moving of their own accord, no longer under his control. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.A moment passed, the silence stretching out between them, and he realized that his father had spoken again, the words lost in the haze of his own thoughts. How long did I zone out that time? he wondered, his mind struggling to focus on the present, to pull himself back from the brink of whatever abyss he''d been teetering on. "Mustn''t waste food," the words sprung back to life in his mind, a perfect recreation of his father''s tone and cadence, the memory so vivid that it almost seemed to override the present moment. That''s new, he thought, a flicker of interest sparking in his otherwise numb mind. He didn''t look up as he finally responded, his gaze fixed on the fork in his hand, the metal cool and heavy against his skin. "Not hungry," he said, the words mechanical and rehearsed, yet honest in their simplicity. His father''s eyes narrowed slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the shift in their verbal sparring, the tension between them palpable in the air. A part of Theo found it funny how, despite his father''s vaunted and self-proclaimed eye for detail and exceptional intelligence, the man hadn''t managed to see the difference in the set of eyes staring him in the face. The slight slimming of his face was one thing to ignore, but the eyes... Am I so forgettable? Theo allowed the thought space to roam for a moment. Or did father simply never care? "Will miracles never cease?" Max asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stood to leave the table, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor with a sound that grated on the boy''s nerves, the noise amplified by his heightened senses. The latter then. Soles on hardwood continued to click, each step a sharp, staccato beat that echoed in his mind long after the sound had faded, his father rounding a distant corner and disappearing from view, leaving him alone with his thoughts, the silence pressing in on him from all sides, a tangible presence that seemed to fill the room. He sat there, unmoving, the fork still clutched in his hand, his mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of them quite coherent, none of them quite real. The world seemed to blur around the edges, reality and illusion blending together until he couldn''t quite tell where one ended and the other began, the blue energy coursing through his veins, altering his perceptions, his very sense of self. He wondered, not for the first time today, if this was what it felt like to go mad, to lose oneself entirely in the labyrinth of one''s own mind. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him, a detachment that bordered on the inhuman, as if he were watching himself from a distance, observing his own descent into madness with a massive eye, detached from the emotions that should have been tearing him apart. He watched silently as the maid entered the room, her movements efficient and noiseless, clearing the table with the practiced grace of someone well-versed in the art of invisibility. She finished her task and retreated to the kitchen without a word. Now alone, he felt a peculiar relief, a momentary respite from the weight of expectations. His fingers tightened around the fork as he rose from the table, the metal cool and smooth beneath his touch, a silent testament to his burgeoning sense of control. Ascending the stairs, the fork''s presence was a comforting certainty, an odd companion that seemed to pulse with potential energy. Each step was measured, his awareness heightened to the point where each creak of the wooden stairs was a distinct note in the quiet symphony of his solitude. He entered his room, the familiar space a haven from the world''s prying eyes and his father''s disappointed silences. Closing the door behind him, he relaxed, the mask of indifference he wore downstairs beginning to crack. The fork slipped from his sleeve as he let go of the doorknob, an unexpected descent halted abruptly by a new force. His eyes widened slightly, not with fear, but with a cold curiosity as the fork stopped in mid-air, suspended at knee height. He reached out, the air around him charged with an unspoken energy. The utensil remained still, obedient to his unvoiced command. Interesting. As he extended his fingers, the fork ascended, aligning with the slow upward motion of his hand. The sensation was alien yet intimately familiar, as if he were exploring a forgotten aspect of his own being. Turning his palm upwards, the fork mimicked the movement, a metallic disciple of his silent will. The drain on his energy - the blue circulating in his brain and nerves - was palpable, each moment costing him a sliver of strength, but the allure of control was intoxicating. With a deliberate motion, he closed his hand into a fist. The metal obeyed, compressing into a tight sphere with a muted screech. The final shape was a perfect, smooth orb, gleaming dully as it hovered in the low light of his room. A slow smile crept across his face, a rare expression of genuine satisfaction. "Fuck yeah." Theodor Heathcliff Anders felt¡­ alive. Cutscene: Snake In The Grass Cutscene: Snake In The Grass ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Thomas Calvert massaged his temples as he leaned back against the high back of his chair, the cool leather relaxing against his skin. The room around him was steeped in shadow, broken only by the dim glow of his desk lamp, which cast angular shadows across his face, accentuating the deep lines of frustration etched into his dark skin. Frustration was a word he was very well familiar with. Failure, not quite to the same extent. The walls of his study seemed to accentuate his irritation, absorbing the sighs and the occasional muttered curse with no echoing or reverberation. Calvert sat in his home office, hands dangling at the sides of his chair as he rested his head back on the cushion of his ergonomic seat and allowed himself the near-orgasmic pleasure of a long, frustrated groan. The office was meticulously organized, each book and paper perfectly aligned, a physical manifestation of his need for control. The mahogany desk, large and imposing, bore no clutter, only a sleek, modern laptop and a series of neatly arranged files. Despite all this, the man¡¯s eyes were locked onto the dark brown wood that was the ceiling of his little personal enclave, the soundproofing allowing him perfect peace away from everything else. This role... this incessant bureaucracy... it¡¯s suffocating, he thought, his fingers drumming a staccato rhythm on the dark wood of his desk. The job was a far cry from the power he had envisioned. His plans had always involved manipulation from the shadows, not being shackled to a desk, mired in paperwork and politics. He had never truly desired the position of Deputy Director of the PRT ENE; his ambitions had always angled towards more... autonomous roles, if he couldn¡¯t have the top seat. But circumstances and, admittedly, his own machinations had maneuvered him into this unwanted role. To be so close to the power, yet shackled by bureaucracy and that battle-axe of a woman riding my ass, he grumbled to himself, mouth turning down in a harsh frown for a moment. He was a smart man, he knew that much. Not the smartest, of course, but his natural mind far exceeded the average. At the very least, if he wasn¡¯t exceptionally smart, then he was simply surrounded by people so stupid on such a constant basis, it made no functional difference, really. He¡¯d planned around some rather impressive minds, so he had the right to feel the level of pride in himself that he did. Yet, it was somehow the stupidest possible obstacle in his path that made him feel like scratching his scalp till it bled. Calvert leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his fingers tented in front of his lips. He spared a glance at the opposite wall, adorned with a map of Brockton Bay, little pins and markers denoting various points of interest and territories. The silence of the room, usually a balm, now seemed to amplify his irritation. On his polished mahogany desk lay several dossiers, the topmost featuring the latest escapades of Hardkour¡ªno, White Knight, or was it Void Cowboy today? The boy''s penchant for changing aliases and outfits was as confusing as it was irritating. If only the boy understood the subtleties of power... Calvert''s thoughts trailed as he considered the young hero. The raw, unchecked enthusiasm of youth, combined with a surprising level of power that apparently seemed to grow, made Hardkour a wildcard that disrupted many of his carefully laid plans. He picked up the dossier, his fingers tracing the outline of the reports that detailed the boy¡¯s abilities and personality profile as well as another of his nighttime activities the PRT received report of. If the boy were slightly less lucky, he might have ended up in a body bag and saved him all this trouble. Lucky, Calvert¡¯s mouth shifted, flat line becoming a noticeable scowl as he slammed his fists down on the table without warning. He glared at the file again, the words blurring before his eyes. In addition to his abilities, the dossier on his desk detailed recent activities that disrupted several of Coil¡¯s carefully laid plans. The boy¡¯s unpredictable nature wasn''t just a nuisance; it was a variable Calvert hadn''t fully accounted for, a variable that was becoming increasingly problematic. The sudden spike of pain and dull ache in both hands that filled him as quickly as the shout of frustration from his lips faded to nothing only left him feeling more irritated, catharsis be damned. It wasn¡¯t just the victories themselves that irked him; it was the chaotic, unstructured manner in which they were achieved. Not to mention¡­ The dark-skinned man grit his teeth as the memories of countless headaches came back to him, each and every one of them from the prior three months. Recalling them bore no actual pain, of course, but the mass of them brought a ghost of the agony back to the forefront and the man sitting in silence could only hope that the next time he used his power, he wouldn¡¯t have to face another. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. The use of his abilities had never come at a cost, but recently, the new repercussions had him nearly spiraling. The splitting headaches, the brief lapses in memory after concluding a timeline¡ªit was becoming more frequent, more painful. He knew the cause of them, though. He knew it very well. Initially, he only suspected. The odd few seconds of blackness that occurred back in March¡­ short spans of time that he only really seemed to recall after the fact. They were unsettling but not truly an issue, he had assumed it was simply a conflict of some hidden Trump or Thinker working within the city. A problem for the future, certainly, but not an immediate one. Then the night of the boy¡¯s actual debut¡­ Well, his suspicions vanished. He had chosen the ideal timeline out of the two; Lung down and captured, with Tattletale and her crew having escaped freely, assisted by some girl with the ability to control insects. Yet the moment he chose said timeline, he was hit with a powerful headache, strong enough to nearly make him pass out. He was confused at first, but that confusion turned to near-panic as he reviewed what he thought to have happened and was met with a different series of events entirely, a new individual that he had no recollection of playing the major part. Calvert''s long, thin fingers reached for a glass of water on his desk, the ice cubes clinking softly as he lifted it to his lips. The cool liquid did little to soothe the burning frustration in his chest. He set the glass down with a soft thud, his eyes drifting back to the dossiers spread before him. "Void Cowboy," he muttered, his low, cool baritone filling the room. "What an utterly ridiculous name." He flipped open the file, scanning the contents with a practiced eye. The boy''s powers were... problematic. Unpredictable. A wild card in a game where Calvert had meticulously stacked the deck. The power he likely wasn¡¯t even aware of¡­ more so. The rumored Brockton Blackout was true, unfortunately, not that PRT Thinkers weren¡¯t already aware. The closer one got to Brockton Bay as a Thinker ¡ª the more likely it is that some or major aspects of their powers would refuse to work or, in some cases, outright backfire. I''ve dealt with worse, he reminded himself. I''ve overcome greater obstacles. It felt like a lie, even as he thought it. His greatest tool, ripped from his hands unintentionally by a child with developmental issues. He¡¯d been forced to live the last month without them, risking pain and confusion and an entirely wrong timeline if the boy happened to intersect with his plans in the slightest. No¡­ more than a lie, it felt like a joke. A Trump with the power to play with timelines in addition to continually advancing potential at a pace surpassing Dauntless. What mad god had thought something like this funny? Calvert leaned back in his chair once more, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. The soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the room, a white noise that did little to drown out the cacophony of his thoughts. With a soft sigh, he reached for his phone, his fingers hovering over the keypad for a moment before dialing a familiar number. It rang twice before a voice answered on the other end. "Sir?" The voice was respectful, deferential. "I need you to increase surveillance on our... special project," Calvert said, his tone measured and calm despite the turmoil in his mind. "I want to know every move he makes, every word he speaks. Understood?" "Yes, sir. Right away." Calvert ended the call without another word, not yet settling the phone down. Instead, he found himself staring at it, his thumb hovering over the keypad. A moment passed, then two, before he made his decision. He dialed another number, this one not stored in his contacts. It rang three times before a gruff voice answered. "Yeah?" "I need a list," Calvert said, his voice low and measured. "Effective exterminators." There was a pause on the other end, then a chuckle. "Sure thing, boss. Any particular type of pest?" "No," Calvert replied, his free hand drumming a slow rhythm on his desk. "The expansive list." "Alright, I can do that. Might take a day or two to compile¡ª" "Any that can be here in under a week," Calvert interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. Another pause. "That... narrows it down considerably, sir. Mind if I ask what kind of job we''re looking at?" Calvert''s lips thinned into a tight line. "A very specific pest that needs expert handling." "I see," the voice replied, a note of understanding in his tone. "That kind of pest. Got it. I''ll get you that list ASAP." "Thank you, I appreciate your services," Calvert said, his voice softening slightly. "As always, discretion is paramount." "Of course, sir. You''ll have it by morning." Calvert ended the call, finally setting the phone down on his desk. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting to the ceiling once more. The weight of what he had just set in motion settled over him like a heavy blanket. Is this necessary? a small voice in the back of his mind asked. It wasn¡¯t a question of morals, no. The sheer potential that this could backfire had him questioning himself for a moment, wondering if he hadn¡¯t just set dominos in motion he wouldn¡¯t be able to right. He squashed the doubt ruthlessly, after the moment passed. In this game, hesitation was death. He had come too far, sacrificed too much, to let this do him in. Sometimes, you have to remove a piece from the board entirely, he thought, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. For the good of the game. He reached for his glass of water again, taking a long sip as he contemplated his next move, Calvert allowing himself a moment of calm. Now, all that was left was to wait and see how the pieces fell. And if they don''t fall in my favor, he mused, his fingers tracing the edge of the dossier, well... that''s what contingencies are for. With a soft sigh, he turned his attention back to the stack of papers on his desk. Cutscene: Deal with The Devil Cutscene: Deal with The Devil ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C THEN ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The room was a chaos of violence, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat. It was just another day in this South Docks'' hideout¡ªa recently refurbished tenement building that served as a haven for the sorts of activities that decent folks whispered about but never dared to confirm. Hidden from the prying eyes of both cops and capes, it was the perfect sanctuary of drugs, violence and sex. Sometimes, all three at once. Today, the second reigned. A long-haired Japanese man let out a pained gasp as a casual blow to his stomach left him gasping for air, the gangster sent stumbling back. His legs trembled as he kept standing, surrounded by broken bodies and shattered walls. Fuck, he hits like a freight train, he thought, trying to steady his breathing. He stared back at the figure opposite him, fear making his heart race even faster. A blond teenage boy, garbed in red leather that clung to his form like a second skin, his face obscured by a demonic-looking, shattered scarlet mask. Each movement he made was precise and brutal, harsh and uncaring, casual blows sending men to the ground and angry ones sending them flying or shattering bone. As the last man standing and the effective boss of at least a third of them, the quivering Japanese man had no choice but to fight. He held a rusted, chipped katana firm in his grip, the blade having seen better days. Despite being not yet half done with his twenties, his youth did nothing to mask the weariness of his eyes or the scars that marred his skin. The gang member''s hands tightened around the hilt of his blade, muscles tensed as he prepared to defend what little ground he had left. This kid''s crazy, the man thought, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His back ached from being thrown through a plywood wall earlier, the splinters having left their mark both on his flesh and his blackened outfit. Blood trickled down his forehead, mixing with the sweat that dripped into his eyes, stinging and blurring his vision. Gotta end this quick, or I''m fuckin'' done, he thought, gritting his teeth. Ignoring the pain, he rushed forward again, not even able to scream with his throat raw. The fight was brutal and one-sided as it had been before. Every block and parry he made was countered effortlessly by the boy in red. The boy moved with a superhuman grace, dodging strikes that should have hit and responding with punishing blows that left the man reeling. Even still, he could tell the other kid was holding back. After all, I''m still standing. For now. With a feral yell, he lunged forward, the katana slicing through the air aimed at the boy''s midsection. But the strike met only air. The boy sidestepped, his movements fluid, almost supernatural. How? Confusion warred with rising panic as he barely registered the boy''s counter¡ªa swift, precise strike to his ribs that knocked the wind out of him. "That all you got?" the boy taunted, his voice muffled by the mask but still dripping with amusement. "C''mon, man, I''ve seen grannies do more damage¡­ Literally." Fucking smartass, the gangster thought, anger flaring up alongside the pain. He swung again, a wide arc meant to cleave through bone and sinew. The boy ducked under the blade, close enough that he could feel the whisper of the boy''s jacket against his skin. Then, in a blur of motion, the boy was behind him, delivering a crushing blow to the back of his knee. Pain buckled his legs, sending him staggering forward, struggling to maintain his grip on the katana. "Shit!" he hissed, barely catching himself before face-planting on the floor. His knee throbbed, threatening to give out entirely. This is bad. Real bad. Gasping, he whirled around, his movements now driven by instinct rather than thought. The boy was there, just out of reach, his posture relaxed, almost bored. With a shout that tore at his ragged throat, he charged with his blade raised for a downward strike. But again, the boy was no longer there when his blade came down. Instead, the cold floor greeted his sword with a jarring clang that sent vibrations up his arms. The impact nearly dislodged the weapon from his grasp. C-can''t be happening. "Dude, seriously?" The boy''s voice came from behind him, laced with disappointment. "I was hoping for at least a bit of a challenge. Y''know, given you''re supposed to be running things around here." The gangster spun around, his vision swimming from the sudden movement. Running things? How does he¡ª His thoughts were cut short as he looked up just in time for a lazy backhand to connect with his jaw, sending him sprawling across the floor. The katana clattered away, sliding across the blood-slicked floor. He lay there, dazed and beaten, every breath sending jolts of pain through his battered body. The boy in red loomed over him, his mask somehow more terrifying from this angle. The flickering fluorescent lights cast eerie shadows across the scarred surface of the plastic face covering, making it seem alive and hungry. His nose was thick with the sharp smell of blood, the coppery tang enough to mask the sweat and dirtiness that the place was full of. "Where''d you get the sword?" The voice came from above him, tinged with a curiosity that almost seemed innocent. He glanced up to see the boy looming over him, a single golden eye visible behind the half-shattered scarlet mask.The eye seemed to glow, unnaturally bright in the dim warehouse. "Gaaaah¡­ my nothe... " He struggled to speak, his voice muffled and distorted by the swelling. Shit, he probably broke it, he thought, tasting blood in the back of his throat. "Where did you... Get. The. Sword?" The boy''s tone hardened, insistence threading through each word. "Holy¡­ Duke¡­ Duke''s Pawn Shop¡­ god..." His response came out in gasps, each word punctuated by a sharp throb of pain that radiated across his face. Just let it end, he pleaded silently, his eyes squeezing shut against the agony. "Alright. I''ll make you a deal." There was a shift in the air as the boy''s stance relaxed slightly, golden eye locked onto both of his with an intensity that felt almost physical. The change in tone was jarring, almost casual, as if they were discussing the weather. "What?" Confusion clouded his mind, pain and adrenaline making it hard to follow. "The sword. I want it." The boy''s tone was even, but there was an edge to it that spoke of underlying threats. "So, I''m gonna make you a deal. The sword for your legs." "But¡­ but¡­ what?" His voice was weak, incredulous. This can''t be happening. This is insane. "...The sword or your legs." The finality in the boy''s voice left no room for argument. The air seemed to grow colder, the silence in the warehouse oppressive. "What?" Panic flared within him, a desperate kind of fear that made his heart pound painfully against his ribs. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape that didn''t exist. "I keep the sword or I keep your legs. Choose." The simplicity of the choice did nothing to ease the dread that settled heavy in his stomach. The boy''s voice was calm, almost bored, as if he were asking about lunch preferences. The sword, his sword, was now pointed menacingly at his legs, the steel glinting coldly under the flickering light. He swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to muster the courage to look the boy in the eye. This is it. This is how it ends. "Y-... Y- You could have just taken the sword though." His voice was barely a whisper. "I could have¡­" The cape kid nodded. "Yeah, I really could have. But that''d be mugging you. That''s what villains do. I''m putting the choice in your hands here." "Ch-shit¡­ choice, huh?" His laugh was hollow, pain-laced, and it hurt even more but he couldn''t help it. The boy''s smile was thin, almost amused. "Exactly." There was a beat of silence, heavy and thick, before he finally exhaled a shaky breath. "You''re funny," the words scraped out of him, a ragged, manic laugh that hurt his chest with every secondl. "Take it." "Hn¡­ Thanks for the sword." "...you''re welcome." "What''s your name?" The question was unexpected, almost curious. The boy paused, his head tilting slightly as he waited for an answer. Fuck it. If he wants to kill me, he would have already. "...Asada. Asada Seo." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C NOW ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Seo adjusted his rearview mirror, casting a watchful eye on the blond woman they had been tailing as she walked down the street. Downtown bustled around them, the thrum of city life a stark contrast to the silence in their car. Leaning back in the driver''s seat of the nondescript black sedan, Seo did his best to blend into the scenery, which was easier said than done, considering¡­ The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Even after the events of the Bombings, Downtown was still a hive of activity, the kind of place where a person could get lost in the crowd¡ªor in plain sight, if they weren''t careful. Just like old times, Seo thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Except now we''re the good guys. Sort of. Beside him, his fellow ABB captain, Jonouchi, sat like a statue, the martial artist''s muscular frame barely fitting in the passenger seat. The man''s stern face was framed by the tinted window, his gaze fixed intensely on the woman they were tasked with shadowing as she walked towards the boutique they were told of. He looked every bit the part of a gang enforcer all the way down to his black and yellow motorcycle jacket. "Jonouchi, question¡­ do you ever smile?" Seo''s voice broke the silence, an attempt at lightening the mood. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the steering wheel. Jonouchi''s eyes flickered towards Seo, the hint of annoyance quick to surface. His arms, covered in intricate dragon tattoos that snaked their way from his shoulders down to his wrists, crossed defensively. "Focus, Seo. We''re not here to chat." Seo sighed, his gaze wandering back to the woman as she disappeared into a boutique, the bell tinkling softly as the door closed. God, this is boring as hell. Silence settled over the car like a thick blanket and after a moment, he ventured another question, unable to keep his curiosity down. "Been thinking, man. Why the loyalty, though? I mean, I get why I''m here, and everyone else has their reasons, but you¡­ I don''t get you." The question was honest. He really didn''t understand Jonouchi, or Joey as the kid boss called him. Seo''s eyes flickered back to Jonouchi, curiosity piqued despite his best efforts to remain nonchalant. The older man was an enigma, had been even before all this White Dragon business. Guy''s like a damn statue most of the time. What''s his deal? "Can I tell you a story?" Jonouchi''s deep voice broke the silence, his eyes still fixed on the bustling street outside. Seo felt his eyes immediately droop, a bored expression settling on his face as he internally rolled his eyes. Great, storytime with Captain Serious. "...sure, man," he replied, trying to keep the skepticism out of his voice. Jonouchi shifted slightly, his massive frame creaking the car seat. "There was a boy," he began, his voice taking on an almost rhythmic quality, "brought to Brockton Bay by his parents when young. The boy was big, always had been, stronger than his peers, a suspected cape when cape society was still young." Seo blinked, nodding slowly. Where''s he going with this? "The boy had few friends because the boy was quiet, and because the boy often had a bit of a temper," Jonouchi continued, his gaze distant. "To curb this, the man''s father had taught him kindness and responsibility and the duty of the strong to protect the weak from a young age, seeing his son''s size and strength. He had taught him all of these through Kung Fu. Year after year, the boy trained alongside his father. When his father died, the boy trained while his mother watched. When his mother died, the boy trained by himself." Jonouchi''s voice took on a somber tone, and Seo found himself leaning in despite his initial disinterest. "Soon, the boy became a man and others came to be trained by him. The man trained those others and those others brought more others. As the man grew, his town also became worse as bandits and bandit lords thrived. Still, the man had his peace and his students. Soon, the man was called sensei and the sensei had a dojo and the man''s neighbors knew peace." Seo''s eyebrows knitted together. "One day, a dragon entered the sensei''s town," Jonouchi said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "While the men who worked for the bandit lords in the sensei''s town respected the man and his peace, the men that served the dragon did not. Those men tried to force the sensei to serve the dragon. When they were sent away beaten, they sent more men. When those men were sent away beaten, they attacked the building of the sensei''s dojo." Jonouchi''s hands tightened into fists, the only outward sign of emotion on his otherwise stoic face. "The sensei knew that a building was just a building but then they tried to force the sensei''s students to serve. For the last time, the sensei sent the men away beaten." The large man''s eyes hardened. "It was expected the sensei would die. To defy the dragon once is to court death. To do so three times is to lay in one''s grave. Before the dragon could rise, the sensei shaved his head and marked his body with the dragon''s likeness and waited there on his knees for the dragon, revoking his title of sensei." Likeness¡­ Seo''s eyes trailed down to Jonouchi''s arms, the tail of the dragon sleeve tattoo the man had still visible. Jonouchi''s voice softened, almost sad. "Seeing the man''s acceptance, the dragon accepted the man and the man served the dragon, and did his best to protect those he could." A heavy silence fell over the car as Jonouchi finished. "Wow..." Seo finally managed. "That was a long ass story, Jonouchi." The older man''s lips quirked up in the barest hint of a smile. "It was." Seo leaned back in his seat, processing what he''d just heard. The bustling street outside seemed muted now, less important than the revelation he''d just experienced. No wonder he''s so loyal. Kid must be like a second chance to him. "So," Seo said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral, "that sensei... he ever regret his choice?" "Every day," he said softly. "And never." The car went silent for a bit longer before Jonouchi''s gaze flickered toward Seo again, a frown creasing his brow. His jaw tightened for a moment until he finally spoke again. "A question for you, why do you think the others don''t defect? Why do they follow him instead of joining the gangs trying to encroach on our territory?" Seo chuckled dryly, his eyes scanning the rearview mirror. A couple of teenagers walked by, laughing and shoving each other playfully. To be that carefree again... "Well, the Boston gang''s more like a bunch of mercenaries than a proper gang. Spend more time out of the city than in it, always running scared whenever Lung''s name pops up. And the New Yorkers? Flashy idiots trying too hard not to look scared of Legend." He paused, watching a couple of pedestrians narrowly avoid a cyclist. The rider flipped them off, earning a chorus of curses. Just another day in the Bay. "Wesley''s just looking for the strongest lead, someone who can make decisions so he doesn''t have to. And Joon Lee? That guy''s tied up in so many deals in the Bay, he can''t afford to jump ship without losing everything." Jonouchi nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And what about you, Seo? Why do you follow the White Dragon?" Seo''s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. The White Dragon. It still felt strange to use that name, to think of the kid who had beaten him down as some kind of savior. But wasn''t that exactly what he''d become? "He gave me a choice," Seo said finally, his voice low. "More than Lung ever did. And he''s... fair. Doesn''t abuse his power. Doesn''t treat us like we''re expendable." A ghost of a smile flickered across Jonouchi''s face. "Exactly. He''s not perfect, but he''s trying to build something better. Something that might actually help this city instead of bleeding it dry." Seo smiled, a rare, genuine twitch of lips that didn''t quite reach his eyes. His fingers tapped an irregular rhythm on the steering wheel, a nervous tic he''d never quite managed to shake. "On top of that? I''m just trying to stay alive, man. I stick with who I think can keep me that way and not turn on me when he gets in a mood." The sarcasm in his voice was biting but the seriousness in his eyes didn''t fade.. And isn''t that the fucking truth. The other man nodded, his expression softening slightly. The harsh lines of his face smoothed out, making him look almost paternal for a moment. "Loyalty''s not about the easy choice, Seo. It''s about making the right one." Seo let out a low whistle. "Damn, that''s deep. You been practicing that?" Jonouchi''s smile widened slightly. "Maybe. I have a lot of time in my own head." The conversation hung between them as Seo found himself pondering Jonouchi''s words. Loyalty. The right choice. He''d made plenty of choices in his life, most of them far from right. Joining the ABB hadn''t been about loyalty or morality ¨C it had been about survival, plain and simple. The right choice, huh? As if anything in this fucked up world is that simple. He turned his attention back to the boutique, the woman now exiting with a shopping bag in hand. Her blonde hair caught the sunlight, a beacon in the crowd. Guess the right choice requires playing secret bodyguard for some single mom? Seo started the car, ready to follow at a discreet distance. "You know," he said as they pulled out into traffic, "I think that''s the most I''ve ever heard you say at once." Jonouchi''s only response was a soft grunt, but Seo could swear he saw the laughter in the older man''s eyes. The younger man laughed and turned his attention back to the road. Grief 7.1a Grief 7.1a Greg and Sparky walked through the streets near Firefly Hill, their footsteps echoing in the eerily quiet neighborhood. The streets, once bustling with life, now stood half-deserted. Most residents chose to stay inside, leaving the streets quickly. With the E88 attacks last week and the distrust from everyone else, no one felt safe, simple as that. Hate how dead it feels, Greg thought with a mental frown, his smile not leaving his face as his eyes scanned the boarded-up storefronts and vacant lots. Bakuda''s bombs didn''t even touch this place. Of course they hadn''t. Firefly Hill and adjacent areas were all ABB territory. Maybe the fact it was fully untouched was another sign to the people not to spend any time here. Greg shook his head. Whatever. The May air held a crisp chill, perfectly typical of a New England spring. Greg tugged at his blue drop shoulder bomber jacket, its yellow accents catching the late afternoon sunlight. His white shirt peeked out underneath, matching his blue jeans and coordinating sneakers. Beside him, Sparky slouched in his black denim overalls, hands shoved deep in the pockets, the other boy standing out in his yellow shirt, yellow beanie and matching checkerboard yellow-and-black skate shoes. Place is like a ghost town, Greg mused, kicking a stray pebble and watching it skitter across the cracked sidewalk. Guess people are still spooked from the bombings. Can''t blame ''em, but damn... Wish they''d give my boys a chance. The ABB is over¡­ we''re the¡­ the¡­ He shook his head¡­ workshopping what we are, still. He glanced over at Sparky, noting the tight set of his friend''s shoulders. His friend had yet to get used to just striding into ABB territory, his eyes flicking from side to side expecting someone to jump out of an alley. Instincts of living in Brockton Bay were still strong, even with powers. Or it could have just been anything gang-related, he admitted to himself, remembering the Empire. For a second, Greg''s eyes narrowed at the memory, anger flaring hot in his chest even as his mouth kept moving and Sparky kept nodding mindlessly. Never again. He forced his fists to unclench, smile no longer as forced. "¡ªat''s when I whack him in the face with the hitball!" Greg let out a laugh, the sound jarring in the quiet street. "You should have seen it, Sparks." Sparky''s eyes rolled so hard, Greg half-expected to hear them rattle. "I did," he drawled. "I was there. We were the only two people on the same team. It was today." Greg''s eyebrows shot up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh... yeah, I just honestly forgot you were there," he lied, cupping his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "Cause you weren''t doing shit, were you?" "Cus I was trying not to hurt anyone," Sparky fired back, his tone flat but tinged with exasperation. "Cus of my powers. Y''know, the things you told me to be careful about?" He''s got a point, Greg admitted to himself. I did tell him to watch his strength. Out loud, he snorted, waving off Sparky''s concern. "Oh, they''ll be fine. Kids bounce back quick, especially when you apply rubber to their face." "Kids, he says..." A moment later, a crack appeared in Sparky''s stern frown. "...his face really was funny when you hit him, I can''t lie." "RIGHT?" Greg cackled, his laughter echoing off the empty buildings. "That''s what I''m saying!" Their banter carried them to a familiar storefront, familiar to him at least. The faded red awning of House of Wu sagged slightly, its edges frayed by time and neglect. Even still, it still looked pretty nice despite all that, as nice as a place like this could look. Good ol'' House of Wu, Greg mused, eyeing the chipped paint and cracked window. Looks rough around the edges, but still standing. "Man, I love House Of Wu," Greg said with a grin, head tilted up to look at the chipping signage. "This place never gets old." Sparky glanced over at him before his own gaze returned to the cracked window on the place''s front door and then back up to the chopping paint, the look on his face saying it all more than words could manage. "Really... never?" "Yeah," Greg replied guilelessly, not even rising to the bait. "And you love their orange chicken, don''t lie." "Mmmmm," Sparky nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "It''s still just orange chicken, though." Greg''s eyes lit up, sensing an opening. "Oh, so you don''t mind paying, then." "Eat me," Sparky shot him a flat look. Greg laughed, the sound bright and genuine as he pushed open the door. The familiar jingle of the bell was a welcome interruption to the neighborhood''s oppressive silence. Sparky followed him in, the door swinging shut behind them. "Mr. Wuuuu!" Greg called out, his voice echoing in the empty takeout place. The inside of the place was that of a classic Chinese takeout spot, with those backlit menu pictures above the counter¡ªeach one showing off a different dish in bright yellow colors and red designs popping even as the lightbulbs behind them threatened to flicker off. The dark green worn marble-like counter was clean, but that was really the only thing in the front end of the place that properly was, everything else vaguely dirty in a way that it probably actually wasn''t but it just felt run down more than anything. The man behind said counter looked even older and more worn than his restaurant but the smile on his face said otherwise, "Gregory!" "Mr. Wu, how''s my favorite chef doing?" Greg shouted, one hand cupped around his mouth as he walked up to the counter, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the dingy linoleum floor. Same old House of Wu, Greg mused, eyeing the faded posters on the walls and the chipped paint on the window frames. It''s like coming home. "Ah, Gregory," the old man laughed, showing off his several missing teeth, "you know I never cook in the afternoons. That''s Stephen''s job." "I know," Greg tilted his head to the side as Sparky walked up beside him, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, "but I can''t acknowledge that your afternoon chef exists. Me and your grandson have beef." The Chinese man raised his eyebrows. "Oooh, Beijing?" "Come on, Mr. Wu, don''t joke like that," Greg said with a scoff, clicking his tongue as he shook his head. "It''s two orders of General Tso''s, a Sweet and Sour Chicken combo with fried rice, and a couple sugar donuts for dessert." Mr. Wu nodded, a playful glint in his eye. "Mmm, I see you''re watching your weight." Greg grinned, patting his flat stomach. "Someone has to, right?" Gotta keep the calories coming, Greg thought, remembering those early days after his powers kicked in. My metabolism was insane back then. Still is, but I''ve got a better handle on it now. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Visiting Mr. Wu''s place as often as he could during the first few weeks of his powers was kind of a daily ritual. Greg needed a lot of food back then and his mom was getting suspicious with all the shopping she was having to do. Brushing it off as ''puberty'' only worked for so long and the all-you-can-eat buffets were an easy way to get the PRT called on him for suspicious behavior. With Mr. Wu, the old Chinese man knew how much he could shovel down, at least, and he never complained, considering Greg was without a doubt his best customer and he made sure to grease the man''s pockets with tips as healthy as his food was unhealthy. If Wu thought I was a supe, and he probably did, the old guy knew better than to talk, Greg mused, watching Mr. Wu punch their order into the ancient cash register. This was Brockton Bay, after all. People went missing for much less. Greg blinked at that suddenly vicious thought. Not that I would do something like that, Greg amended hastily in his own mind. But because of the implication... Mr. Wu glanced over at Sparky, tilting his chin at the other boy. "And you?" Sparky shrugged, looking mildly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. "Keep it simple and double this guy''s order." "Triple it," Greg interjected, ignoring Sparky''s confused look. Mr. Wu nodded approvingly. "That''s more like it." Sparky shot Greg a questioning glance, one eyebrow raised. "What? C''mon, you know you need it," Greg said, nudging Sparky with his elbow. Sparky''s confused expression melted into a slight smile, one hand scratching his hair beneath his beanie awkwardly. "Thanks, brah." Greg made kissy faces at him, batting his eyelashes as he did so. "Someone has to feed my growing boy." Sparky sighed, rolling his eyes. "...they''ll never find your body." "Not if I swallow a tracking device first," Greg shot back without missing a beat. Sparky opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head. "...I don''t have a comeback for that." Greg chuckled as he reached into his pocket, pretending to root around for money as he mentally voiced [Inventory] inside his head. Gotta love pocket dimensions, he thought with a smirk, pulling out three crisp hundred dollar bills and handing them over to Mr. Wu. "Here you go." Mr. Wu didn''t even bother counting the money or checking it, simply smiling as he nodded his head at the only properly clean booth in the place. "Thank you very much, Gregory. Your food will be brought over." Greg smiled back as he gestured for Sparky to follow him as he walked over. Compared to the dingier, cracked red faux-leather seats in the booths, the booth almost looked reupholstered even, the table so clean it sparkled. My private booth, I love making friends, he thought with a sigh as he slid in, the vinyl squeaking under his jeans. Sparky slid in across from him, the other boy''s eyes scanning the restaurant with a mix of familiarity and vague discomfort. Probably thinking back to that last time we both came here together, Greg guessed, his own mind flashing back to that afternoon when he told Sparky his secret. That was¡­ different. But some things never change, Greg mused, watching Mr. Wu yell back behind the counter, getting their order ready. "So¡­" Greg folded his hands on the table, smile still on his face as he leaned forward, the vinyl booth creaking slightly under his shifting weight. Sparky raised one eyebrow, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. "So?" "Brockton Bay is about to explode," Greg said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. Both of Sparky''s brows shot up, nearly vanishing into his bangs as he leaned forward over the table, hands slamming down flat on the surface. "What? Again!?" Greg shook his head, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "No, not literally, at least. Just making an Akira reference." Sparky let out a sigh and slumped back into his seat, arms crossing over his chest again. "I..." He shot Greg a harsh look from beneath half-lidded eyes. "I''d say I hate you but it feels like you get off to that." He''s not wrong, Greg thought with an internal chuckle. Out loud, he just shrugged. "Meh. Anyway, in the long term, I''m planning war." Sparky blinked, his expression going blank. Greg blinked back, maintaining eye contact. "..." "..." "..." The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sizzle of cooking oil from the kitchen. "...aren''t you gonna ask why?" Greg finally asked, breaking the stalemate. "No," Sparky shot back, shaking his head. "No dramatic pauses. Keep speaking." "This fuckin'' guy, ruining my fun," Greg muttered to himself, knowing full well that Sparky''s enhanced ears would catch his words anyway. Clearing his throat, Greg continued. "Anyway, full story is that without Lung, the Empire''s getting too big for their britches and I gotta nip that in the bud before they do something worse than they''ve already done." They''ve already done plenty, Greg thought darkly, his smile slipping for a moment. Sparky clicked his tongue, taking all that in. "...and?" Greg sucked in some air, meeting Sparky''s gaze head-on. "The Empire needs to die." Sparky leaned forward, elbows on the table, his expression serious. "Figuratively or literally?" "Lady''s choice," Greg replied with a shrug, his tone light but his eyes hard. "If I get to break Kaiser''s neck, you can call me a girl six ways to Sunday, brah," Sparky said, a vicious glint in his eye. He paused for a second, eyes going wide as he cleared his throat. "...no homo." Greg made a face, nose wrinkling. "I mean, literally half homo." "Shut uuuup." With a roll of his eyes, Sparky leaned back in the booth again, the vinyl squeaking. "Speaking of metal weirdoes, how''s your fat cousin?" The blond boy coughed slightly, holding back an obvious laugh as he turned it into an attempt at clearing his throat. "If you mean Theo..." "Ye." Greg shrugged again, picking at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. "I think he''s doing pretty good, I can''t be sure. He was acting kinda weird..." Weird is an understatement, Greg mused, thinking back to his last conversation with his cousin. More like straight-up unsettling. "Weird like black blood from his ears, eyes and nose?" Sparky scoffed, one hand fiddling with his beanie. "Or did I miss something else?" Greg clicked his tongue. "No, no, no, that was the weirdest, actually." His gaze focused on Sparky a half-instant later. "Also, I didn''t know you were Catholic." Sparky shook his head, shuddering, likely because of the mental image of Theo from last week. "I wasn''t and I''m not. I was just scared, kinda throwing stuff at the wall that day." "And at Theo," Greg reminded him, remembering the panicked shouting and flying objects. "I''m not apologizing for that. Shit was demonic, brah," Sparky shot back, tugging his beanie down over his ears. "True, but still, rude..." the blond chided, wagging a finger at his friend. "Anyway... I was on the phone with T-Dawg last night and he..." Greg frowned slightly, thinking back, "he kinda just zoned out and... saying stuff..." Sparky tilted his head, confusion written across his face. "Like... Like Latin chanting in reverse?" "No... honestly, that would have been less weird," Greg answered with that odd frown still on his face. "He told me it was the structural transformations of iron at different heats and melting points of iron in those structural transformations." "...what?" Sparky blinked, looking utterly lost. "I knoooow, right?" Greg made a grimace, clicking his tongue again. "I mean, he''s still Theo. He just has his moments." "I kinda call bullshit though," Sparky added, pulling off his beanie to fix Greg with a look, his dark hair slightly matted from being under the hat all day. "Why does he get an actual power and I just get stronger?" The blond shrugged, leaning back in his seat with a slight frown on his face. Theo''s weird metal shaping powers were crazy, but honestly... if it stops there, I don''t see him doing much. If it stops there... "Look, I don''t make the rules. He''s definitely gonna be helpful, though." "With the Empire, right?" Sparky asked, one eyebrow raised. "''Cus of the metal thingy." "I mean¡­ sure," Greg replied, a knowing smile on his face. "But not just the Empire." Sparky''s other eyebrow joined the first. Greg tapped Sparky on the arm, covertly tilting his head in the direction of the alley across from Wu''s. Sparky turned, and Greg saw his eyes narrow as his friend spotted three Asian guys heading into said alley. The first was tall and wiry, with a red bandana tied around his neck and a black cap pulled low over his eyes. The second was shorter and stockier, wearing a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves ripped off, showing off tattooed arms. The third was average height, with a green bandana and a matching plaid shirt, his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. "What, brah?" Sparky gave him a look, confusion written across his face. "Aren''t those your guys?" "Not mine," Greg said, shaking his head. "Huh?" "You know how Boston had a really huge underground Asian crime thing going on¡­ before Lung, at least?" Greg asked, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. Sparky raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. "...not really, brah." "Well, now you do," Greg shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "New York had one too. I mean, it was less overt, kinda had to be with Laser Man hanging over your head, right?" "I guess," Sparky said with a shrug, his expression still confused. "Anyway, I''ve been getting reports that they''re making moves again, this time into the Bay because they think it''s easy pickings," Greg finally took his eyes off the alley, focusing back on Sparky. "You know, what with Lung gone and all?" Because the ABB is weak now, was the part that went unsaid. Sparky tilted his head, eyes half-lidded and seemingly uninterested. "And let me guess," he leaned forward slightly, "your part in this equation is to¡­ disabuse them of that notion." "You would be correct, Sparkplug," Greg said with a grin, finger-gunning at his friend. "Sparkplug" slowly closed his eyes the rest of the way, letting out a long sigh, before opening them again halfway. "So, what¡­ we suiting up?" Greg smirked, shaking his head. "Nah, this is just recon. One of mine told me about suspicious locations and I told him I''d scope this one out. No, see, I wanna wait till they actually come into the city in force so I can spank ''em all at once." "Spank ''em¡­ okay. And when''s that gonna happen?" Sparky asked, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "I dunno," Greg answered with a shrug, "soon as they bring in their capes, probably." Sparky''s eyebrows shot up again. "They have capes?" Grief 7.1b Grief 7.1b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg paced back and forth in front of the whiteboard, the marker in his hand a blur as he added some notes to the already-full board and sketched out rough diagrams. The warehouse around them was a far cry from its dilapidated state just a week ago. The walls and floors had been power-washed, the grime and graffiti of years past stripped away to reveal the original concrete beneath. The windows, once caked with dirt and cobwebs, now allowed the late afternoon sunlight to stream in, catching the dust motes that danced in the air. It was still clearly an old warehouse, with its rusted metal beams and echoing emptiness, but there was a sense of new life breathed into the space. Shelves had been removed, opening up the floor, and the walls looked fresher, sporting a new coat of paint. The guys had done good work, honestly, Greg mused to himself, a smirk tugging at his lips. Maintenance and upkeep of this place couldn''t be easy, and the refurbishing on such short notice¡­ Note to self: give Glenn a bonus. "New York... the Big Apple, more like an apple with a big worm in it, and by a worm I mean, these guys," Greg began, gesturing at the whiteboard with a dramatic flourish. "They''re a mostly-Chinese criminal organization ¡ª well semi-organized at least, they''re kind of a mess¡­" A loud groan interrupted Greg''s opening, the source of it coming from one Axel "Sparky" Ramon, the fifteen-year-old throwing his head back for extra force in the annoyed noise he was letting out. "Oh brother, get to the point!" A pair of blue eyes shot him an annoyed look. "Rude." "...Please," Sparky added, his tone only slightly apologetic. "Fine¡­" Turning back to the whiteboard right behind him, Greg pointed a finger at the words at the top, "...The Flying Dragons. Wannabe gang coming out of New York. These guys popped up like, four, maybe five years ago, a good bit after Lung tore into all the Asian gangs in the tri-state area, killed a bunch of the old heads and made it a bad idea to do Asian organized crime anywhere Lung could reasonably get to in a day." Sparky nodded slowly as he took a bite from the box of General Tso''s in his hand. He leaned forward on the little couch Greg had dragged over, the coffee table in front of him filled with the rest of their food from Wu''s place. The couch was a recent addition, a battered but comfortable thing that Greg had liberated from a curb somewhere. It added to the slowly growing sense of ''home'' in the warehouse, a far cry from the echoing emptiness it had been before. "They''ve got a few hundred guys. So nowhere near as big as the Empire or the ABB, not around as long nor with the same¡­ ''encouraged recruitment policy''," Greg continued, adding some finger quotes at the end, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "About as big as your usual gangs are, they''ve got their fingers in all sorts of pies in the boroughs ¡ª protection rackets, gambling, drugs, you get me?" "Pretty simple, yeah," Sparky nodded again as he took another bite, chopsticks held in deft fingers. He seemed more interested in the food than the briefing, but Greg knew he was listening. Sparky always listened, even when he pretended not to. "But here''s the weird thing though," Greg continued, tapping the name on the board so fast the marker ink began to smear a little. "When they do big heists, they never do it in New York. It''s like they''re trying to keep their home turf clean or something. Probably afraid of ticking off Legend or Lung or both, is the consensus online at least." He stepped back from the whiteboard, capping the marker with a click. "Now onto the baddies¡­" Greg began, a grin spreading across his face. This was the part he''d been waiting for. Greg tapped the first three pics under the title, each one showcasing an image of a white-haired Chinese dude in a red silk shirt with hands that looked really burnt, all black and red with what seemed like open sores that he didn''t seem to mind. One pic had him smoking a cigarette, the other had him holding a fireball, the third had him hurling what looked like a hellstorm out of both hands. "Zhuyin, the head honcho, aka David Chen, twenty-four years old, open villain, meaning no mask¡­" "And they haven''t arrested him?" Sparky asked, clearly confused as he sat up straight, setting his food aside for a quick gulp of orange soda. His brow furrowed as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he put the two-liter bottle of soda down. "Guy''s just walking around?" "Give me a sec." Greg waved the words away, a slight frown on his face at the interruption. Dude always gets ahead of himself. "Anyways, his name means ''Light-in-the-Darkness'' or something pretentious like that. It''s also the name for the Chinese mythological Torch Dragon, so calling himself that should generally a bad idea when Lung lives a few hours away¡­ but Zhuyin got away with it because he doesn''t use the ''long'' character in his name, so Lung didn''t tear him apart for the disrespect. He''s a hundred percent terrified of the guy, by the way" Greg''s eyes narrowed as he stared at the picture, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "Zhuyin was from an organized crime family and was planning to take over eventually when Lung exploded into his life ¡ªno metaphor there¡ª killed his parents and wrecked his house with a gas explosion. According to reports, he triggered there, fire-proof and fire-throwing." Man, Lung was a dickhead, Greg thought, a flash of sympathy crossing his face. "PHO and other forums tag him as a Hi-Blast, Mid-Brick, Lo-Swift so in PRT terms we''re talking a Blaster 7, Brute 4, with a side of Mover 3," Greg continued, his words coming faster now as he got into the groove of the briefing. "He throws around thermobarics that can level small buildings and can shoot across the skyline like a rocket, so an arrest attempt in a populated area is kind of a¡­ bad idea. Dude''s albino, you can tell by the pic, but his hands are kinda burnt all the time and it gets worse when he uses his powers. Major threat, I guess, but not like peak-Lung major." Not someone to mess with, cus he''s at least smarter than Lung though, Greg mused. Gotta be to avoid Legend for several years. Can''t just go in guns blazing. Maybe some kind of fire suppressant? Or a way to cut off his oxygen supply? Gotta think on it, Greg nodded to himself as Sparky continued eating, eyes fixed on the board. "Lung-major is like Endbringer-major, brah," Sparky chimed in, his tone only half-joking. "That''s not a low bar, what are you talking about?" "True to that," Greg agreed, shuddering slightly at the memory of Lung ragdolling him like a pitbull even after he had shredded the guy''s chest and back with that makeshift Rasengan. He shook his head, dispelling the dark images, and turned back to the board. "Alright, next," his hand went to three sets of polaroids showing a gray-skinned and heavily scarred man with silver hair, looking somewhat like a human version of a honey badger almost, "we got Jiangshi, aka Matthew Wei, the major muscle of the Dragons and second in command. Rocking the whole undead vibe and also a no-masker¡­ y''know, considering... the Dragons are full of monster capes." Greg paused, taking in a slight breath. "Anyway¡­ Wei got his powers after being trapped in some nasty industrial accident and is now a walking, talking zombie that can bench press a bus. Parahumans Online rates him as a Mid-Brick with a bit of Lo-Swift. PRT-speak, that''s a Brute 4 with Mover 2 on the side. Heals crazy fast, runs kinda fast and throws around cars like they''re toys. Also¡­ just doesn''t feel pain, which is¡­ unfair." Tough bastard, Greg thought, eyeing the pictures. But¡­ we don''t really need to take him down at all. If he doesn''t feel pain, maybe we can use that. He''s not that fast. Lure him into a trap or something. "...Wow," Sparky said, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed and a little disturbed. "Yeah¡­" Greg raised his eyebrows as he slapped his hand against another picture, only one this time, of what looked like a Latina girl in a schoolgirl uniform whose entire left side was surrounded by thick black tentacles dripping with a similarly colored liquid. "Next up is Mimic, not a public cape. But imagine a shape-shifting octopus made of nightmares ¡ª all black tendrils and creepy vibes. Forums tag her as a Mid-Shift, Lo-Brick combo. That''s Changer 4, Stranger 4, Brute 2." She''s gonna be a problem, Greg thought, frowning at the picture. Sparky tilted his head, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. "She''s not Asian, though?" The blond shrugged, still staring at the board. "Yeah, I don''t get it either." Doesn''t really matter though, does it? he mused. A baddie is a baddie is a baddie. "Next is their Tinker, Dizhen, who also keeps her real face hidden," Greg continued on, pointing at a girl with bright green hair, and a matching color weirdly-shaped headphone-helmet combo that exposed her eyes and nothing else. "Rumor is her parents wanted her to be a doctor or something and she wanted to be a DJ, so she ended up triggering as a music Tinker. Very on brand for an Asian villain." Sparky snorted, shaking his head as he reached for another container of food. "Racist much, brah?" Greg snorted, a grin tugging at his lips. "Hey, I don''t make the rules. Villains gonna villain." He tapped the picture again, his expression turning slightly more serious. "For a Music Tinker, she''s fucking strong. Villain View and Power Patrol rated her as a Mid-Tech, Mid-Blast, Lo-Brain, Lo-Swift. In PRT terms, that''s Tinker 5, Striker 4, Thinker 2, Mover 2. Her tech is all about sound; making it, breaking stuff with it, you name it." "Sounds like a real pain in the ass," Sparky muttered around a mouthful of chicken. "Pun totally intended." Greg chuckled, the sound echoing in the empty warehouse. "Nice one." He turned back to the board, his hand moving to the next picture. "Then we got," he gestured at a picture of what looked like an image of a living shadow with glowing white eyes and a trail of white tears, "Fei ChangFang, aka the Ghost Boy, monster cape like the others, but worse. Whatever happened to trigger his powers, well, he''s stuck like that. Didn''t lose his memory too, like the boss and second. Glowing eyes, crying ectoplasm, the works. He can pop in and out of existence, taking stuff ¡ª or people ¡ª with him anywhere up to around a block away. Anyone he tags and ports gets a free ticket to Puke City for a few seconds. Plus, he''s got this thing where he can teleport attacks away from him. Mid-Shift, touch type Mid-Warp aka Breaker 5, Striker 5." Sparky''s eyes widened, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. "How are you supposed to fight him, then?" he grumbled annoyedly, the teenager dropping the empty white carton and going for another one immediately. "Sounds like fucking hax, brah." Greg let out a slight hum, a grin breaking out on his face as he tapped the marker against his chin. "I''m thinking fire. If it doesn''t hurt him, well¡­ He needs to breathe¡­ probably." Probably, Greg echoed in his head, his grin turning slightly feral. At Sparky''s slow nod, he continued by tapping the board again, this time on the image of a muscular Asian man with bright blond hair ¡ª definitely dyed ¡ª in all-black denim jacket, tank top and jeans, leaning up against an overturned police car with a long black bo staff by his side, "We got Sun Kwan up next, no mask. Heard of the MMA incident two years ago; amateur fighter triggered in a match while losing badly in a fight people thought was his to win?" Sparky frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to recall. After a moment, he shook his head. "No." "Well, it was this guy," Greg said, tapping the pic again, the sound echoing in the warehouse. "Real name, Ken Zhou. Literally ''sploded his opponent by accident and apparently went villain with the Dragons. Power is all about boom-y fists from kinetic energy. For some reason, he uses it through his staff ¡ª I dunno, maybe it works better?" Probably some martial arts bullshit, Greg mused, his eyes roving over the picture. Looks like the type to be into that kind of thing. All ''inner chi'' and ''harnessing your ki'' or whatever. Greg shrugged, shaking his head as he turned back to Sparky. "Anyway, the more he moves, the more boom he''s got stored up. Villain View got him tagged as close-range Hi-Blast, Lo-Brick, Lo-Swift. PHO Wiki is saying Striker 7, Brute 3, Mover 2." The blond tapped the Polaroid at the bottom of the whiteboard, the image looking like an albino man crossed with both a hyena and a crocodile somehow. "Last member of the Dragons, name¡­ Y-Yang-zay? Yangzee?" "Yangtze?" Sparky offered, one eyebrow raised as he looked up from his food. "Probably," Greg accepted with another shrug, his eyes still focused on the picture. "This guy''s a straight-across-the-board monster cape, no memory, nothing. Dragons just snatched him up. Mid-Brick, Mid-Shift from V2''s boards. Brute 3, Striker 4 in PRT-lingo. Bro''s tough enough as is, but he''s also got a tongue like a knife crossed with a steel cable. Can stretch it across a street and heals faster than you can cut it. Not top-tier, but definitely nightmare fuel. And also, yeah, he can split his head open to use it." Sparky sat up straighter, a second container of General Tso''s empty and tossed aside. "So, those are all the fuckers we''re going to war with." "No," Greg clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he did so, his blond locks swaying with the motion. "There''s a whole ''nother group, from Boston. Kinda bigger dickheads too." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Sparky''s eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. "What?" "Yeah¡­ my board-guy only had the records finished for the first group so far," Greg said, gesturing at the whiteboard with a sweeping motion of his arm. Gotta get him to speed that up, Greg thought, making a mental note to light a fire under Seo''s ass. Can''t go to war without proper intel. "So¡­ two small armies of capescoming to wreck our shit, not to mention the small army of capes already here with the Empire, who also want to wreck our shit, and we''re supposed to sit here with our thumbs up our asses, brah?" Sparky asked. Greg blinked, the blond removing his jacket and hanging it up on the side of the edge of the whiteboard. "Why that saying, first of all? Second, no. Third, I wouldn''t call them armies, that seems a bit much," he said the last word as he removed his t-shirt and placed it with his jacket, standing shirtless in front of the board. Sparky''s eyes widened, his gaze flicking from Greg''s bare torso to his face and back again. "Why are you shirtless?" "We''re training. We need to get you stronger, fast," Greg grinned, his teeth flashing white in the warehouse''s fluorescent lighting. He flexed, the tightly corded muscles in his arms and chest rippling under his skin. "Time''s a-wasting. Strip." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ? Later That Night "Parkouuuuur!" The wind whipped fiercely around him, tugging at his clothes as he rushed forward. He was practically a blur against the cityscape, flipping and vaulting from one building to the next. His movements were a well-choreographed dance of leaps and bounds, each jump fueling the next. Launching himself into the air, muscles coiling and uncoiling like springs,he built up enough momentum to clear half a block in a single, graceful arc, soaring with the wind at his back. It was tempting to harness that wind, to channel it and augment his already impressive jumps. He could move faster, reduce the drag, push himself even further into the air... Very, very tempting. Greg grinned as he somersaulted through the air, the rush of the wind drowning out the sounds of the city below. His body twisted and turned, contorting into impossible shapes as he soared over the rooftops. He could feel the pull of the wind, the way it seemed to whisper in his ear, urging him to let loose, to embrace the power that thrummed through his veins. But no, he reminded himself, shaking his head as he landed on the edge of a roof, his feet barely touching the concrete before he was off again. Gotta keep the identities separate. No mixing and matching. That way lies madness... and probably a lot of property damage. The wind almost sang to him sometimes, his voice carrying when he didn''t mean to, his hearing enhanced even further as sound made its way to him when he strained to listen, stuff like that. But he had rules. Keeping the identities separate from one another, even in his own head, was a big one. Sure, did it make himself sound a little crazy talking about his identities in the third person? Yeah, but that was pretty low on the list of crazy things about him now. Besides, he couldn''t afford the heat of Hardkour to fall on Sir Prodigy, the White Knight of Brockton Bay. No, that path was very much of the bad, especially considering Hardkour was wanted for... well, a lot of things. No, his identities had to talk, move, act and even fight differently, and that meant keeping the powers from crossing streams. "Like the Ghostbusters," Greg muttered to himself as he ran along the edge of a roof, his feet barely touching the ledge. "Never cross the streams. Bad juju." Besides, he didn''t need White Knight''s aerokinesis to have fun. That was just being greedy. "Whoooooohooooooo!" Greg couldn''t help but shout as he launched himself over a wide street, arms thrown back, body twisting and turning in a display of aerial acrobatics that an Olympian would kill for. His red helmet-mask cut through the air, the white eyes on it staring blankly ahead as his hair flapped wildly from the opening at the top. He corkscrewed through the air, his body spinning like a top, before uncurling at the last moment to land in a perfect three-point stance on the next rooftop. "Nailed it!" he crowed, throwing his arms up in a perfect "V" for victory. "The judges give it a perfect 10! The crowd goes wild!" Below him, life in Brockton Bay continued. Cars honked, people shouted, and somewhere, roaming packs of wild dogs barked incessantly. And here he was, above it all. It had been well over a week since he almost lost Sparky, and he hadn''t felt this relaxed since. Even still, he wasn''t that relaxed. After all, the Flying Dragons and the Sky Triad were circling, like sharks smelling blood in the water. It didn''t matter if they were here to recruit or to conquer, and it honestly didn''t matter all that much. Either way, it spelled trouble. Greg wasn''t actually sure which of the two they were here for. Seo knew for a fact that they were scouting for something, though. And that was the hard part, planning on two ends meant more variables to handle, more balls in the air, and a Juggling ability wasn''t one he had gotten yet. Note to self: unlock Juggling. "Yet another thing to add to the old skill tree," Greg mused as he balanced on the edge of a roof, his arms spread wide. "Right after ''Not Getting My Ass Kicked by Gangs of Superpowered Assholes''." Jokes aside, takeover meant war. That much was both obvious and unavoidable. Anyone with half a brain and just a single working eye could tell you that Brockton Bay wasn''t a place that changed hands peacefully. It simply wasn''t how things worked here. Not since Allfather first swung his big metal dick into the city,said "Mine", and Marquis took it personally. And if it was just poaching? That still spelled disaster in a city like this, already tense as hell. Simply put: two new, rival Asian gangs in a city with thousands of Nazi gang members already looking for a reason to make a move was just a prelude to war, even if they didn''t start fighting each other first. Whatever their plans, Greg knew he needed to prepare. There was only one way this went down and, in that case, he needed to make sure it was short, if not all that sweet. If it''s war they want, it''ll be short and sharp, he thought with a harsh grin. One-day-war, max. City can''t handle much more without breaking under the pressure. They could not afford a Brockton Games fiasco. Not now, he thought. Before that, though, Greg knew he needed to make the ABB... Azn Best Boyz? AGG... Azn Good Guyz? AGB... Azn Good Boyz? Gah, fuck it! He thought with a frown. None of the names stuck. None of them really worked. Honestly, none of them were¡­ cool. With the exception of¡­ He scowled at the thought, eyes narrowing behind the white lenses of his helmet. Gah, fuck it, he thought, deciding to give up worrying about it. He might end up just calling them ''Ronin'', after all. I mean, it''s cool enough, right? True, but the only issue is that it almost felt like a copout given the name idea came from a traitor... or maybe I could use the name anyway... Yuri had meant it as an insult. Out of spite, yeah. Make that bastard eat his wor- Lost in thought, Greg barely registered a sharp tingle that snapped him back to the present just as his boots touched down on a high railing. He froze, the buzz running down his spine. "Huh?" The blond whipped around so fast he literally blurred, both hands tight in gloved fists at his sides. "Who''s there?" Both syllables left his lips in a harsh growl as eyes narrowed behind his mask, the teenager fully slipping into his role as an avenging ninja. The night was dark, but that hadn''t mattered to him in months. [Darkvision] came in handy as often as you''d think it would, the power of perfect night vision regardless of the level of darkness, something he never really took for granted. He didn''t even need it right now. Not really. "I can hear you," Hardkour called out, his voice echoing across the rooftop. He tilted his head, listening intently. The city''s usual nocturnal symphony of distant sirens, barking dogs, and the ever-present hum of traffic faded into the background as he focused on the sound that had caught his attention. That wasn''t just for intimidation. He could hear them, the abnormal sound of purposely quieted human breathing. It was almost familiar, something he''d grown used to when he had spent days hunting down the members of the gang he now lorded over. It was different from normal breathing, awake or unconscious¡ªthe slight hitch at the top of each inhale as they consciously did their best to make each breath shallower, almost like they were afraid to fill their lungs too much. The exhale was always the real giveaway, though. Instead of the smooth, natural flow of air, it was a series of controlled releases, the person letting out the breath out in tiny, measured bursts, all slightly uneven, a tremor in each one. Gotcha, he thought, a smirk tugging at his lips. Can''t hide from these ears, buddy. Hardkour raised a hand to the bottom of his mask, pushing up the bottom until the lower half of his face was open to the air. His nostrils flared as he took in a breath. Sweat¡­ Hardkour realized, but it''s faded. And¡­ He frowned as he noted the faint smell of pork ribs, having spent enough time eating Chinese food in large amounts the last two months to pick up on it easy enough. Oh, I see¡­ "So, you''ve been waiting for me, huh?" His clenched fists relaxed, the teenage vigilante crossing his arms as the figure hiding behind the rooftop enclosure flinched, taking in a sharper breath than intended. "What? Tracking me on cameras and figured I''d pass by here?" A figure slid out from behind the roof enclosure, Greg raising a single eyebrow at him. It was clearly a guy, Greg could tell that much. A little shorter than he was, the guy was skinny and wearing a form-fitting bodysuit in shades of gunmetal and navy, with smooth gray paneling in segments on top of it. Over his shoulder was what looked like a grappling hook attached to a long and thickly-braided gray rope. He held his hands up, seemingly in surrender. "Alright, alright, you got me," the cape spoke up, voice smooth and understated behind his featureless gray mask. "How''d you know?" [Analyze].
Independent Mercenary Title: Smooth Criminal HP: 220/220 Power: Friction Coefficient Modulation Smooth? Rough? He''s got it all. A cape with the power over friction, he left the world of amateur parkour behind for the world of professional killing. This smartass treats the city like his personal slip ''n slide, turning skyscrapers into playgrounds and sidewalks into ice rinks. With the power to make you stick like glue or slide like a greased-up penguin, Slique''s the guy who''ll kill you with a smile under his mask. Just remember, in his world, teamwork makes the dream work... for him to steal all the credit and cash.
Hardkour let out a sigh. "Okay, no," he made an X over his chest with both hands. "Listen, Slique¡­ I get that you''re probably here to kill me or something but I really don''t feel like this right now." The assassin tilted his head, body language clearly showing his confusion. "How do you know m- Ah, Thinker, huh?" "Sure, yeah," Greg replied, giving the bad guy in front of him a nonchalant shrug. I''m not doing this, broski. "I don''t really care what you feel like, kid, personally," Slique said, the man''s tone casual, almost bored even. He took a step forward, his movements smooth and fluid, like a cat stalking its prey. "It''s just the job, by the way, nothing personal." Job, right, the blond thought, rolling his eyes behind his mask. And that job is probably putting a bullet in my head. No thanks, bro. "I''m sure," Hardkour shot back aloud. "But I really don''t feel you''re thematically appropriate to my storyline right now. I''m going for more of a strategy-game, slice-of-life vibe right now. I''ve had enough property damage for a bit. Maybe we can reschedule for next month, ''kay?" Seriously, dude, read the room, Greg thought as he started to back up towards the edge of the roof. I''m not in the mood for an assassin subplot. Keeping his eye on the assassin, Greg made to run backwards, already building up speed to dive. "I''d watch my step¡­" His Danger Sense buzzed again, blue eyes widening as the gray-suited cape raised his gloved hand. Suddenly, Greg''s feet found no purchase on the roof''s edge, the ninja-themed cape suddenly scrambling as he skid uncontrollably, sliding as if the ground was at a steep angle. "...if I was you." [Adhesion]! Mana rushed to his feet as he scrambled across the ground towards empty air, kicking for purchase against a ground that might have well been made of oil. Shit. It didn''t help. "Shit!" Grief 7.1c Grief 7.1c ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg''s arms flailed wildly as he toppled backward from the edge of the seven-story building, the ground rushing up to meet him. In a split-second reflex, he twisted in mid-air, reaching for a flagpole in a desperate bid to halt his descent. But his fingers only slipped off the metal, seemingly greased slick, sending a jolt of panic through him. What the¡­
He crashed onto the pavement below with a resounding thud, the impact reverberating through his body with such force that he felt something inside him crack. "NGGGH!" The air was knocked from his lungs, and for a moment, the world was nothing but a blur of pain and disoriented lights. Gritting his teeth, Hardkour pushed against the cold concrete, forcing himself to sit up. "My back!" He groaned out loud, frustration mounting. Why do I keep getting knocked off buildings? It was a fair question, if a rhetorical one, as this was the second time in about a week or so. It just wasn''t fair, honestly. Stumbling back to his feet, Greg scanned the street, his gaze sharp. This side of downtown was quiet ¡ª Coil''s territory, he knew that ¡ª and that was the usual for it. The Empire and the ABB usually stayed clear of it, but people also knew not to loiter around past dark either. Who the fuck is this guy? His eye twitched a moment later. Oh right, an assassin, duh, he told me. A sound caught his attention and a flicker of movement caught his eye. Hardkour spun, fists raised, just in time to see Slique casually skating down the side of a building, leaving a faint, oily sheen behind him. The villain''s lanky form was a blur of motion as he slid, whistling and sounding as happy as a clam. What kind of jumped-up Me bullshit is this? Greg thought, his eyes narrowing behind his mask as he watched Slique''s unnatural movement. Dude''s copying my fucking Adhesion, but better? Slique landed with a soft hop, squatting on the wall with a casual ease that grated on Greg''s nerves. He cupped his chin, eyeing Hardkour with an amused smirk that was audible even through his featureless mask. "Man, for the price of this job, I thought you''d be way harder to put down." Greg''s hand twitched, itching to draw his katana from his [Inventory]. He resisted the urge, knowing that revealing his hand too early would be a rookie mistake. Play it cool, Greg. Let him think you''re just another mook. "I wouldn''t get ahead of myself," Hardkour rasped, his voice taking on the gravelly tone he reserved for his edgier persona. "You knocked me down, not put me down." He couldn''t see it but he felt like the bastard across from him smiled. "Well, the night''s still young," Slique drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. Greg grinned darkly under his own mask. Oh, you wanna play, huh? Let''s play. "And so am I!" "You''ll die that way, yeah," Slique retorted, his tone still infuriatingly casual. Hardkour tensed, ready to charge, only for his eyes to widen again the instant his feet pushed the ground. He stumbled, arms windmilling as he found himself barely able to pull his feet from the pavement. What the hell? Slique seized the moment, launching from the wall like a missile. Both feet connected with Greg''s chest, the force of the blow sending him skidding back across the street.
He collided with the side of a parked car, the metal buckling under him with a loud, grating crunch. Slightly gasping for breath, Greg pushed off the crumpled metal, muttering to himself, "What. The fuck?" He shook his head, trying to get back in the game. "Focus, dumbass," he scolded himself, "You can take harder hits than that." Okay, Friction Coefficient Modulation. Greg wondered, his mind whirring as he tried to piece together Slique''s power. Definitely a Shaker considering the range. Making things slippery or sticky at will? Slique was already on the move again, ricocheting off surfaces with inhuman agility. He bounded from the wall to a streetlight to a mailbox, each surface seeming to propel him faster, his movements erratic and unpredictable. Hardkour fully freed himself from the dented car, ignoring the protest of his chest and screaming back. You''re fine. Nothing broken. His eyes tracked Slique''s movements, waiting for the right moment to strike. Gotta time this just right¡­ As Slique zoomed in low for another strike, Greg jumped, the force and timing of his move allowing him to clear Slique''s attack. He twisted mid-air, aiming a vicious axe kick at Slique''s head. Eat this, you slippery son of a¡ª But Slique moved like oil. The gray-suited bastard altered course mid-motion, sliding under Hardkour''s attack with impossible grace. Greg landed hard, and before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp tug at his back as something struck him ¡ª a backwards glance had him growl in frustration at the sight of a grappling hook stuck fast there. "Got ya!" Slique crowed, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "Get over here!" The Scorpion-wannabe tugged hard, and Greg found himself reeling backwards like a fish on the line. Physics was a bitch, that much was true. Here he was, able to lift about two tons even without reinforcement and he was being treated like a prize-winning haul in a fishing competition. "Son of a-" "So, tell me about yourself; streets are saying you''re a gang lord?" The villain darted in as he spoke, a fist connecting solidly with Hardkour''s jaw, and sending his head snapping back. "Holding territory, really? In this city? What''s the point?"
It stung, sure, but wasn''t really a hard hit. Guy barely hits harder than a regular person, Hardkour thought, more annoyed than hurt. It''s the damn slipping and sliding that''s the real problem. The ninja teenager lashed out blindly, his enhanced speed allowing him to catch Slique with a glancing blow. The villain danced back, clearly not wanting to trade direct hits. "Come on, it''s no San Francisco or New York. It''s a shithole." "It''s my shithole, shithead!" Hardkour snarled, his voice rough with anger and exertion. He lunged forward, his fist aimed squarely at Slique''s smug face. "And I''m the only one allowed to call it that!" Slique laughed, the sound grating on Hardkour''s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He slid to the side, Hardkour''s punch passing harmlessly through the space where his head had been a moment before. "Ah, I get it. Dog wanting to eat its own vomit situation," Slique said, half-laughing. "How noble." Hardkour growled, low in his throat. He unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, each one missing the mark as they slid off the assassin, but forcing Slique on the defensive all the same. "Less talking, more getting your ass kicked!" For a moment, it seemed like he had the upper hand. His speed and strength allowed him to press the attack, keeping Slique on his toes and unable to retaliate. Then Slique touched the ground, and suddenly Hardkour''s momentum worked against him. His feet slid out from under him, sending him face-first into the pavement with a painful crunch.
Fuck! Hardkour thought, tasting blood in his mouth. Okay, that one hurt. Guess Sure-Footed doesn''t apply when some fucking cape is dicking around with fucking friction as a whole. Biting down his frustration at the uselessness of one of his most useful Perks, Greg rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding Slique''s follow-up strike. The grappling hook slammed into the pavement where his head had been a split second before, cracking the concrete. Hardkour scrambled to his feet, only to find himself stuck fast to the ground. "What''s wrong, bossman?" Slique taunted, circling him like a shark. "Having trouble keeping your footing?" Hardkour snarled, straining against the invisible force holding him. His enhanced strength allowed him to slowly pry his feet free, but Slique wasn''t about to give him the chance. The villain darted in, spinning his grappling hook like a lasso and slamming it over and over into Greg''s legs.
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Each hit was precise, targeting already bruised areas and sending shocks of pain through Hardkour''s body.
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Gotta break free. Gotta smash this dickhead into the ground. With a roar of effort, Hardkour ripped one foot loose. He pivoted and spun, using the momentum to pull the other one free. "You''re gonna pay for that, you slippery son of a bitch!" Before Hardkour could close the distance, Slique darted towards a nearby fire hydrant. What''s this slippery fuck up to now? Hardkour thought, eyes narrowing behind his mask. Slique slapped his hand against the hydrant, seemingly doing nothing. Then, with a powerful kick, he easily knocked the suddenly unstable hydrant clean off its mounting. Water erupted from the broken connection, gushing onto the street in a powerful spray. In an instant, Slique''s hands were a blur, touching the wet ground in a wide arc. The flooded area transformed into a massive slip-and-slide as Slique manipulated its friction. "Oh, come on!" Hardkour yelled, his voice equal parts frustration and disbelief. Hardkour''s boots skidded across the slick pavement, his enhanced reflexes barely keeping him upright. Slique was everywhere and nowhere, not too fast, but so all-over the place that he defied prediction. The villain''s laughter echoed off the buildings, taunting him. "What''s wrong, tough guy?" Slique called out, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Having trouble getting a grip on the situation?" Cocky piece of shit, Hardkour thought hypocritically, gritting his teeth. He planted his feet, fists raised, trying to track Slique''s movements. The villain was skating along walls, bouncing between surfaces with impossible agility. Hardkour lunged, aiming a haymaker at Slique''s smirking face. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Frustration boiling over, Hardkour conjured a fireball in each hand. "That''s it, Katon: Kutabare no Jutsu!*" He hurled them in quick succession, the flames illuminating the alley with an angry orange glow. Slique nearly froze for a moment, but the bastard''s reflexes were uncanny. He bent backwards, limbo-style, the first fireball singing the top of his costume as it passed overhead. The second he avoided with a graceful sideways twist, the heat of it barely grazing his costume. "Ooh, spicy!" Slique taunted, righting himself. Hardkour growled, smoke curling from his clenched fists. "I''m just getting warmed up." He lunged, a growl on his lips, but at the last second, the ground beneath him turned frictionless. His punch went wide, momentum carrying him face-first into a dumpster. The impact left a Hardkour-shaped dent in the metal and sent a spike of pain through his skull.
Shitty fuckin'' thin-ass helmet! "Fuck!" he spat, tasting more blood. He whirled around, only to catch a glimpse of Slique disappearing around a corner, his mocking laughter trailing behind him. The ninja-boy gave chase, his speed letting him close the gap. Fuck it, what can I use? Cryo? No, not enough range? Electro, same. Aero''s fucking out. His right eye twitched behind the mask. Mana Glitter? Sure, yeah, that''ll fucking do something. Growling, he decided to go for the tried and true. Hardkour''s fists ignited, wreathed in flames as he rushed in. "Let''s see you slip away from this, you greasy bastard!" he snarled, hurling a fireball at Slique''s retreating form. The villain twisted mid-air, impossibly agile, and the fireball sailed past him. It struck a nearby dumpster, setting its contents ablaze. "Shit!" Hardkour cursed, immediately absorbing the flames back into himself. The fire died down, leaving only scorched metal behind. Can''t let it spread. He burst forward as Slique laughed again, ducking into another alleyway. Hardkour frowned as he rounded the corner at full tilt, only to leap up, the raw instinct of his Danger Sense screaming at him to avoid the sweep of the grappling hook''s gleaming tines taking out his shins. But, the momentum of his sent him right into a wall. Unable to stop in time, he slammed into it, feeling like he''d hit industrial strength flypaper. "Nggh!" The air left his lungs in a painful whoosh as he stuck to the wall, completely immobilized. "Oh, this is just great. Fan-fucking-tastic." "Question, ninja brat..." Slique taunted, perched on a fire escape above, looking down at Hardkour with a tilted head and a smug grin that was audible in his voice. "Having fun yet?" "Son of a motherfuckingshitfuckfuckFUCK!" Hardkour roared, muscles straining as he tore himself free from the adhesive wall. Chunks of his costume remained stuck to the surface as he reared around to face the gray-suited villain, his eyes blazing with fury behind his mask. "I loved this costume! When I get my hands on you-" "Big if, musclehead," Slique interrupted, dropping down from his perch on the fire escape. He touched the metal structure as he fell, creating a frictionless slide that let him glide to the ground with ease. Hardkour charged, unleashing a flurry of punches and kicks that would have put a kung-fu movie to shame. His enhanced strength and speed should have overwhelmed Slique, but the villain was always just out of reach, dodging and weaving like a damn ballerina. Every time Hardkour thought he had him cornered, Slique would alter the friction of a surface or himself and slip away, leaving Hardkour grasping at air. Anger built in Hardkour''s chest, burning hotter than the exertion of the fight. With a roar of rage, Hardkour focused his power, compressing the flames into two dense, white-hot spheres. A second later, he thrust both hands forward, unleashing a cone of searing flames that filled the entire alley. The fire roared hungrily, consuming oxygen and scorching everything in its path. For a heartbeat, Hardkour thought he''d finally nailed the bastard. But then he spotted movement above the inferno. FUCK! Cackling in a way that Greg found infuriatingly familiar, Slique swung from a fire escape, flipping in the air as his grappling hook retracted back to the baton held tight in his grip. He was stronger, faster, tougher - but none of that mattered if he couldn''t land a solid hit. Slique was running circles around him, quite literally at times, leaving Hardkour flailing and off-balance like a rank amateur. "You''re gonna eat my fist!" Hardkour snarled, his knuckles cracking the brick wall where Slique had been a split second before. The villain had already slid away, his mocking laughter echoing in the alley. "You really don''t know how to fight someone more agile than you, do you?" Slique taunted, skating up the side of a building like he was taking a leisurely stroll. "You''ve gotten better, though. You were literally shit against that ninja guy in that video, you know?" Oh, I''m gonna tear you apart. Hardkour''s eyes narrowed to slits behind his mask. He bent his knees, channeling all his frustration and rage into his legs, then launched himself upward with all his enhanced strength. For a moment, it looked like he might actually catch Slique mid-air, his outstretched hand inches from grasping the villain''s ankle. But Slique was ready. He touched the wall, the ground beneath him suddenly losing its friction and sending Hardkour sliding right past him and over the rooftop. Hardkour barely managed to grab the ledge at the last second, his fingers digging into the concrete hard enough to leave grooves. As he twisted to pull himself out of the impromptu handstand and land fully on the rooftop, muscles burning with the effort, Hardkour saw Slique waiting for him, that infuriating grin still plastered on his face. "Gotta hand it to you, kid. You just don''t quit, do you?" "Quit? You mean, die?!" Hardkour lunged, his fist aimed squarely at Slique''s smug face, but the villain was already moving. The gray-suited bastard''s hand brushed the ground again, effectively turning the rooftop into an ice rink. Hardkour''s feet nearly went out from under him again, but he was starting to get the hang of this, tightening his core and keeping firmer control of his legs, desperately maintaining his balance so he wasn''t just sliding helplessly across the gravel-strewn surface. "This is almost too easy," Slique chuckled, casually strolling across the frictionless roof like he was taking a damn walk in the park. Easy? I''m easy?! Hardkour twitched in indignant fury, but the anger nearly destabilized him, arms windmilling as he tried to stay upright. He had all the power in the world but no finesse, no control on this slippery fucking ground. Slique, on the other hand, moved with the grace of a figure skater, effortlessly gliding circles around Hardkour''s flailing form. In a desperate move, Hardkour threw himself at Slique, hoping to use his body weight to pin the slippery bastard down. But the dickhead sidestepped at the last moment, sending Hardkour careening over the edge of the roof once more. This time, there was no ledge to grab. Hardkour plummeted, the wind rushing past his ears as he fell. He crashed through an awning, the fabric tearing like tissue paper under his weight, before slamming into the pavement below. The impact left him dazed, vision swimming and his ears ringing.
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As he struggled to his feet, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he saw Slique sliding down the side of the building, again, that damn grappling hook in hand. Fuck it, Hardkour thought, his patience finally snapping like a frayed wire. Am I gonna have to burn down the whole block just to get one dickhead to back down? Fire erupted from his hands, no longer constrained by caution. He hurled a massive fireball at Slique, the heat so intense it warped the air around it. The villain barely dodged, the flames scorching his suit as they passed. The fireball slammed into a parked car, instantly igniting its fuel tank. The resulting explosion rocked the street, sending shrapnel flying in all directions. Hardkour didn''t flinch, his eyes locked on his target. "Oh, so now the kid wants to play rough?" Slique taunted, though there was a new edge to his voice. The teenager responded by yelling and unleashing a torrent of bright orange flames, sweeping them across the street like a flamethrower. Slique was forced on the defensive, frantically sliding and leaping to avoid the inferno. He was still fast and hard to predict, but so were Hardkour''s attacks. A stray flame caught the edge of Slique''s costume, and for a moment, Hardkour thought he had him. But the villain quickly slapped out the fire, somehow able to smother it instantly with a single slap. "Missed me!" Slique called out, and before Hardkour could rush him again, he struck. The villain''s rope whipped out, the metal hook glinting in the dim light as it wrapped around Hardkour''s neck. In one fluid motion, Slique slid past a nearby street lamp, looping the other end of the rope around it. With a touch, he effectively welded the rope in place, the fibers practically fusing to the pole under his power.
Hardkour''s hands flew to his throat, clawing at the rope as it tightened, cutting off his air. His strength should have been enough to snap it like a thread, but even with Reinforcement and Adhesion on his hands, it seemed to do nothing; Slique''s friction manipulation made it impossible to get a grip on the outside while the inside latched tight to his throat. It was like trying to tear a greased steel cable with his bare hands.
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"Looks like you''re all choked up," Slique quipped, watching Hardkour struggle with a sadistic glint in his eye. "Maybe next time you''ll think twice before-" The villain''s taunt was cut short as Hardkour let out a primal roar of rage, his eyes blazing with fury behind his mask. Suddenly, flames erupted from the hero''s body, engulfing the rope in a brilliant inferno. The fire seemed to come from within him, bursting out in a wave of heat and light that lit up the night. Slique''s eyes widened in shock, the villain stumbling back as the flames licked at his costume. "What the f-" He didn''t get a chance to finish his sentence. The rope melted in seconds, the metal fibers warping under the onslaught of Hardkour''s pyrokinesis. The flames didn''t stop there, though. They spread rapidly, threatening to engulf everything around them in a hellish blaze. "God, fuck, damnit!" Slique screamed, the heat singeing his costume. He turned tail and ran, disappearing into a nearby alley. "This isn''t over, flame boy!" As quickly as they had appeared, the flames vanished as Hardkour clenched his fists and pulled them back in towards him, leaving him on his knees in the middle of the scorched street. He gasped for air, his throat raw and aching. The acrid smell of burnt metal and melted asphalt filled his nostrils. Hardkour looked around at the destruction he''d caused - scorch marks on buildings, melted streetlights, and the smoldering remains of the braided-wire rope that had nearly choked him out. This is what I was worried about, he thought bitterly. Can''t be wrecking my own city everytime I fight! He let out a growl, hands on the ground as he stared at the pavement. Did I just lose to some fucking non-Brute wimp? The thought burned almost as much as his neck. Hardkour took another ragged breath, then slammed his fist into the ground, leaving a small crater in the asphalt. "Fuck!" * = Fire Style: Fuck You Technique! Grief 7.2 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg Veder''s eyes blinked open the second a ray of sunlight poked through his well-covered window. Hm. He lay there for a moment, a frown tugging at his lips as he glanced down at the Eidolon comforter beneath him. The emerald and silver design of his childhood hero seemed to judge him silently for sleeping atop the covers like some kind of heathen. Sorry, Big E. Your boy''s running a little hot these days. He never really slept under the covers anymore; his body not really needing anything on him to keep him warm. He ran hot enough, as it was. Pushing the frown off his face, Greg Veder swung his legs over the side of his bed, one hand absently lifting his shirt to scratch at his washboard abs. Despite the chaos of last night, his body showed no signs of the fracas; the perks of a rapid healing factor that kicked into overdrive when he got a full night''s sleep. Physically, he was pristine, but inside¡­ Fucking assassin dickhead, he thought to himself with an eye on the verge of twitching. See how you like being choked to death. The memory of the fight burned in his mind, a mix of frustration and anger simmering just beneath the surface. Well, no one liked losing. Especially not Greg Veder, supreme badass extraordinaire. Losing was for losers, and he was no loser. No siree Bob. He was a winner, a champion, the main character in this crazy anime that was his life. And the main characters always bounced back, stronger than ever. He glanced around his room, uncaring of the mess that was his "floordrobe" lifestyle. Greg had never really cared before, either. Not like I spend much time in here anyway. CD-ROMs for games he hadn''t touched since discovering he could bench-press a car were stacked haphazardly next to his PC, crying out for his skilled fingers. His eyes skimmed over the posters plastering his walls, a rogues'' gallery of heroes he no longer believed in. Well, actually he still liked the ones in here. Armsmaster''s stoic techiness, Eidolon''s mysterious aura, Myrddin''s wizardly swagger ¨C those guys still held up. At least some things don''t change. Nothing to complain about. Real heroes, the kind that inspired kids to tie towels around their necks and jump off the couch, pretending to fly. A red-suited Assault figurine caught his eye, perched precariously on the bottom shelf. Greg shot it a stink-eye that could curdle milk. At least I dodged that bandwagon. Talk about false advertising. He silently high-fived his past self for never falling into the Dauntless or Battery fan clubs. No merch, no posters, no regrets. He walked out of his room, his hearing already picking up the sounds of his mom in her shower, singing¡­ Madonna, of course. Shaking his head, he walked down the hall and into the bathroom wearing only a white shirt and blue boxer briefs, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, more out of habit than any actual tiredness. Sleep was for the weak, and he was anything but weak. "Status." He examined himself in the mirror, eyes flicking between that and to his stat page, as he applied toothpaste to his brush. The face that stared back at him was pretty much his own, with a few tweaks; whiter teeth, brighter hair, shinier eyes, for one¡­ But his body, yeah, that was the real difference. He had stretched a few inches in the last couple months, the top of his head nearing the old mark that his dad had made in the wall when he was only ten years old; the man''s height when he had been sixteen and a football star. His muscles were all ropey and hard, intensely layered on themselves in a way that definitely wouldn''t seem normal if anyone felt them up. Like a wall, almost. Really, he barely recognized himself if it wasn''t for his ever-loving blue eyed face staring right back at him. "Whatever," he muttered to himself, turning away as he brought the brush to his teeth. He couldn''t deny he looked different. Like he''d gone through puberty on steroids, then did it again just for shits and giggles. He hadn''t seen a pimple since April, his face as smooth as a newborn''s. He hadn''t even thought how weird that had been till Sparky had brought it up, his mother a frequent scrapbooker and album maker. She couldn''t help but note that her son looked almost like a movie star, in full makeup. Yeah, they looked different. If he had to be honest with himself, he might say airbrushed. Sparky would argue Photoshopped. Staring at himself in the mirror, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, Greg couldn''t help but wonder how his mom hadn''t seemed to notice anything, especially when his best friend''s mom had picked it up even before Sparky mentioned anything. I mean, I guess mine did happen more slowly... His changes had spread out over a few months, the slight jump in height and muscularity far easier to ignore than Sparky''s weekend-warrior transformation. Still, Mom''s always been clingier than plastic wrap, he mused, spitting out a mouthful of minty foam. You''d think she''d notice all this. Maybe she''s in denial? Or maybe... He paused, a half-formed theory tickling the back of his mind. Greg shook his head, dismissing the thought before it could fully form. "Naaahhh." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ? Untoasted, like nature intended. The sweet, artificial taste was really all he needed as a pick-me-up. Breakfast of champions, he thought with a smirk, taking another bite as he walked towards the front door. His mother walked down the stairs, Susan Veder looking happy, healthy and unbothered the way he preferred it. "Morning, Greggy. You need a ride to school?" "Nah, mom, I''ll just catch the bus," Greg lied smoothly, his tone breezy and unconcerned as he rushed over to plant a kiss on her cheek. "What are you up to?" His mom pursed her lips, as if in deep thought, for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. "I''m not sure, I might do a little grocery shopping. Maybe go get you some new clothes for the summer." She looked him up and down, before narrowing her eyes. Before he could say a word, not that he would stop her, a hand came out to pinch his cheek as his mother shook his face playfully. "Ma!" "Look at my big little man, going through a growth spurt," she cooed, patting his face gently as her lighter blue eyes focused on his brighter ones. "Already taller than me. Don''t get in any trouble today." Greg snorted. "Mom, when do I ever get in trouble?" She simply looked at him, the way only mothers do. "Yeah, yeah, See you later." He flashed her a grin, the picture of a carefree teenager without a worry in the world. "You stay out of trouble too." For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that his mom probably wouldn''t appreciate the way he was making sure of that. But he pushed it down. What his mom didn''t know wouldn''t hurt her. And besides, he had important hero business to attend to. School could wait. Greg waved back at her as she said her goodbyes, already out the door less than two seconds later. He rushed down the street towards where the bus stop would be. But he didn''t stop there. The teenager kept going, heading out of the neighborhood, his feet carrying him away from school as he took a sharp right instead of a left. In no time at all, the Docks greeted him with the familiar scent of sea and decay, the salty air mingling with the industrial stench of old warehouses and rusting machinery. Greg darted through back alleys and silent streets, his footsteps echoing in the early morning stillness. He moved with purpose, his destination clear in his mind. Hardkour''s back on the prowl, he thought with a grin, the persona already settling over him like a second skin. Watch out, bad guys. He turned onto Imperial Yard, ducking into a narrow alley between two crumbling brownstones. With a quick glance to make sure he was alone, he leapt onto the low roof of one of the buildings, his enhanced strength making the jump effortless. He placed a palm to his face, his thoughts shifting to his [Inventory]. With a flare of blue light shimmering like pixels over his entire body, his clothes were replaced by his Hardkour uniform, the helmet settling over his face as the leather and belts did so over his body, the red scarf around his neck already trailing in the light breeze. [Dragon Blood''s Gift] had done its job since last night. Granted, the Perk had taken almost two hours to heal all the damage to his gear from Slique''s flypaper friction fuckery but it still did it. He stared out through the white-tinted lenses over the neighborhood. This was Hardkour''s territory now, and it was firmly under control. My turf, my rules, he thought with a sense of fierce pride. Leaping off the roof, he bounded from building to building, his target in sight. His hideout was nestled in the heart of this territory, a former condo building that had been converted into a functional base. The Hardkour Cave. He leapt into an open window, easing into his office and standing up straight. The room inside the condominium was spacious, with a large desk dominating the center, a large flatscreen TV taking up one wall and a whiteboard lining the other. Some rich guy would probably have used it as an office too or maybe a den or something if this neighborhood hadn''t gone to shit with the Docks pretty much useless thanks to Leviathan. "Morning, boss," Seo greeted, his voice echoing slightly in the spacious room. "You''re out early." Greg''s hands went to the back of his head, unhooking his helmet and dropping the red plastic thing on the wooden desk. Beneath his helmet was a red domino mask, something he had taken to wearing underneath his mask, in case it was broken. "Yeah, I am, Mom''s going out today. Joe on her back?" A moment later, he dropped into his chair, the black leather comforting as he let himself sink into it. Letting out a sigh, he stared up at Seo through the slight curtain of hair in his eyes. "Yeah, boss. Tracker on her car and you know Jonouchi. Guy''s focused." The twenty-something Japanese guy stood there in his usual white silk shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he stood in front of a whiteboard filled with notes and photos. Blue eyes flicked over to it, noting the words "Sky Triad" written at the top of it. "Good. You''ve been working hard, huh?" Greg asked, the question rhetorical. He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk, the picture of a laid-back boss. "A little, boss," Seo said as he gestured to the whiteboard. The smirked, his second-in-command pulling his sleeves up tighter as he did so. Why the guy did that to shirts he bragged as being real silk, Greg had no idea, but it wasn''t like it was his money, anyway. Well, technically¡­ "Downstairs," Seo continued talking, "I got some smart boys on my end, gathering intel and whatnot. Running strategy games, and hypotheticals. It''s been a good night." Hardkour nodded, his eyes roving over the notes and photos. Been waiting on the Sky Triad stuff. Out loud, he nodded slowly and said, "Sounds fun." "How was yours, boss?" Seo asked, his dark eyes scrutinizing Greg''s face. The man had a knack for reading people, he knew that. Hell, even with the domino mask over the blond''s eyes, and the lack of physical wounds, he could probably piece together that something was on his mind. The teenager frowned and let out another sigh, slouching back into his seat. "Someone tried to take my head, Seo," he finally said, a bit of bitterness and frustration bleeding into his voice. "A mercenary, assassin-type-guy¡­ whatever you call him, he was a cape." "What? A merc?" Seo''s eyes widened slightly, the man standing up straighter as his languid posture vanished. "Yeah¡­" Greg frowned, the memories of the fight playing out in his mind. "Guy gave me the run-around and got away too. Called himself Slique. Had some kind of friction manipulation power. Made everything slippery or sticky, depending on what he wanted. Fucker was hard to pin down." He described the fight in more detail, mentioning how Slique had used the environment against him, turning the streets into a deadly obstacle course. "Guy had me on the ropes for a bit, I''ll admit. But I turned the tables with a little fire. Bastard wasn''t expecting that. Ran off with his tail between his legs." Seo listened close, his second-in-command nodding as the story continued. Greg paused, something occurring to him. "Why do I keep getting knocked off buildings?" he added out loud, more to himself than to Seo. "Kind of annoying, honestly." Finally, Greg finished speaking and the gangster let out a long raspy sigh, the man running a hand through his long hair. Tired yet calculating eyes focused on Greg, the wheels turning behind the man''s eyes as he put things together. Seo was many things, but he was far from stupid. If anything, the man had been underutilized as part of Lung''s gang. Speaking of, Seo took a moment to flip through his phone. "Slick, you said?" Greg shook his head, frowning. "No, S-L-I-Q-U-E. Spelled just like that." He waited a moment, expecting a question as to how he knew that but Seo didn''t seem to notice or, at the very least, he didn''t seem to care how the boss knew that, simply adjusting his search in his phone. "Slique¡­" Seo repeated, scrolling through his phone as Greg watched, before finally coming to a stop with a smirk that quickly shifted to a frown the more he read. "Got him. Cape based in San Francisco, definitely a merc like you said. Mover/Striker with some range, and a minor Brute rating with top-tier reflexes, certified bullet dodger. Guy''s got a rap sheet too. Killed a few capes, all villains though. Yeah, fuck me," he let out a low whistle, "this guy''s a professional." Seo glanced back up at Greg''s unimpressed face. "Let me guess, he snuck you?" This is why he liked Seo, more than his loyalty. Above all else, the guy was a thinker ¡ª small t, of course ¡ª and a good one, his strategic mind wasted just watching over a drug den and handling a small crew. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Greg clicked his tongue. "He tried. I kinda brushed him off and tried to ditch him and he got me anyway." Dickhead. "Merc capes, especially killers, boss¡­ shit," the man hissed to himself, sighing again. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a practiced motion. He took a long drag, the tip glowing orange in the dim light of the condo turned HQ. "Mercs like that... they''re a different breed. More lethal, more focused." Greg absorbed the words, only one syllable on his lips. "How?" Seo tilted his head to the side, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Capes¡­ capes fight a lot, but they rarely fight for keeps and they rarely fight with strategy. A lot of their shit is posturing, unless they''re at war or out for blood. You fight just to prove you''re the bigger man on the block. Once you can prove taking you down is more trouble than it''s worth, capes usually back off." The lieutenant trailed off, mouthing the word ''usually'' again. "That goes for gangs and Protectorate both. It''s almost all a big fucking kayfabe, half the time at least. No one wants to start blood feuds. Those are¡­ those are messy." "And?" Greg didn''t appreciate the long pause, his fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. "Well, killer cape mercs are like professionals. You''re mixing the crazy power of a cape with the business attitude of a merc," the Japanese man continued, crossing his arms. The cigarette dangled from his lips, ash falling to the floor. "They fight with strategy first of all. Play for keeps, too. It''s not a game for them." Walking over to a raised desk with a laptop resting on top of it, the man turned it on. "You fought an assassin with skills, planning, training, and a job, and well... with capes, power is number one but that''s not always enough when the other guy has two, three, four, and five," Seo explained, taking another drag from his cigarette as the smoke curled around his face. Greg frowned, his clenched fist resting on the table. Fuck two, three, four, and five. I have all the numbers... He had power, plenty of it. More than most capes, even. Granted, Hookwolf would definitely turn him into soup and Armsmaster might be directly stronger with his suit and more skilled sure, but he was still better in a straight fight than almost every other cape in the Bay. Still, Seo had a point. Raw power wasn''t everything in a fight. Considering the Empire had tried to jump him in a fight by playing to his weaknesses and distracting him... Hell, they might have gotten him if Stormtiger wasn''t a fucking idiot and Krieg could lead better in the field. Strategy, skill, experience... Those mattered too. And this Slique guy seemed to have them in spades. "Mercenary capes don''t just pop up without solid money behind them," Seo continued, flicking ash from his cigarette. "Real solid bread, boss." Greg leaned forward, his eyes narrowing behind his domino mask. "Yeah, yeah, tell me what I don''t know. It was a genuine hit. But what bugs me is this; who around here would bother hiring someone outside the city instead of sending their own capes?" It was a valid question. Brockton Bay had no shortage of capes, both hero and villain. If someone wanted him gone, why not send their own people? Why outsource to a mercenary? Shaking his head, Greg shifted his gaze over to the whiteboard, studying the notes and photos again. "You think the merc¡­ You think the Dragons or the Triad sent him my way?" Seo shook his head, his long hair swaying with the motion. "Boss¡­ I doubt it. If they do wanna takeover, they can''t have some other cape claim your head or outsource it. That shows weakness. And gangs, gangs are all about strength ¡ª ruling a gang... it''s all about power." He''s right, Greg thought, his frown deepening. No self-respecting gang leader would let someone else take out their rival. It''s a matter of pride. "So¡­ some rando wants me gone," the blond mused aloud, his fingers drumming on the desk. "Can''t be the New York or Boston guys, and¡­ I definitely don''t think Kaiser''s gonna outsource either." Seo shrugged, then hesitated, as if a thought suddenly struck him. "What about Coil?" Greg looked up, eyes narrowed. "Coil?" Seo''s eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. "Oh yeah, I guess he wouldn''t really be common knowledge." "No, I know Coil," Greg answered back. PHO talked about him enough that even though PHO barely had any info about the guy, let alone his powers, he knew that the guy was still a dickhead villain who acted more like a mob boss than a regular supervillain. "Just not that much about him." Seo nodded like that made sense. "He''s the other big player in the city. Some kind of secret warlord who mostly sticks to downtown. Very professional. Arms his men with Tinker Tech. It''s why a good chunk of downtown stays visibly gang-free." Greg frowned, his mind racing. "I thought that was mostly because the PRT was just good at their job over there." Seo snorted dismissively, smoke puffing from his nostrils. "No, that''s all Coil. He''s got big money, moves professional, and he keeps things under wraps. Exactly the kind of guy who''d hire out." A professional, Greg mused, the pieces starting to fall into place. Someone who operates in the shadows, pulling strings. Someone with a reason to want me out of the picture. "Alright, so say it''s Coil," Greg said aloud, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "That means he''s got a reason to come after me, but I don''t remember doing anything. Any chance you can dig up more on him?" Seo nodded, his expression serious. "I can try, but information on Coil is locked down tight. Might have to reach out to some... less savory contacts." "Do it," Greg affirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And keep an eye out for any other mercs popping up in town. If this Coil guy is on my ass, he won''t stop at one." "Right," Seo agreed, taking another drag from his cig. The tip glowed bright in the dim office, the man''s brow furrowing as he seemed to think on something else. "Thing is though, nobody knows what Coil''s whole deal is. Nothing about the guy, really. ABB and Empire were simple, it was territory and race and everybody knew what Lung and Kaiser could do, they showed the fuck off." He took in another deep breath. "But Coil, nobody even knows his powers. Like, I said, two, three, four, and five¡­" The blond rolled his eyes, resting his cheek on his raised fist. Yeah, yeah¡­ He''d heard it before. But hearing it and understanding it were two different things. Greg was starting to understand, though. This was a different kind of game, with different rules. And if he wanted to win, he needed to learn those rules. Fast. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Fast. That''s how he was moving. Fast as fuck, boy! Greg Veder, still in costume, navigated the skyline of Brockton Bay with acrobatic ease, speed his priority. He bounded from rooftop to rooftop, his feet barely touching the surface before he was off again, a blur of black and red against the night sky. His path cut a zig-zag pattern between Downtown and the Docks, prioritizing protecting his territory and keeping an eye out for that slick fucker. Slique, he thought, the name leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. If I see him again, I''m gonna introduce his face to the pavement. Repeatedly. Launching from the rooftop, he curled his body into a tight somersault, spinning with controlled velocity. His limbs were perfectly positioned to minimize air resistance, allowing him to maximize speed and maneuverability. Like a human bullet, he mused, a grin spreading across his face beneath the mask. Enjoying his own moves too much was a luxury he couldn''t afford tonight¡ªnot with the recent mercenary attacks fresh in his memory. Every flip and leap was calculated, a blend of necessity and reflex honed by countless nights on patrol. He was looking for a fight, after all. Spotting for Slique by covering as much ground as possible was the name of the game and he was playing it smart. Gonna give him a one-way ticket to the burn unit. He grinned behind his mask, a low rumble in his chest as he laughed to himself. Try and make me slip when I''m half a block away from you carpet bombing your shit! As he approached the edge of a particularly high rooftop, he gathered speed, his feet pounding the gravel-topped surface with increasing tempo. With a powerful thrust of his legs, he launched into the air, his body silhouetted against the moonlit sky. Mid-flight, he tucked his knees close to his chest, spinning to maximize his rotational speed, which added an extra bit of distance to his leap. Hardkour, bitches! he crowed internally, the rush of wind and adrenaline making him feel alive even as he avoided adding too much flair to his moves to focus on speed. As he vaulted from the roof of an old printing press building, his Danger Sense abruptly flared¡ªa tingling warning that shot through him like a jolt of electricity. Fuck! Mid-air, he spun, instincts kicking in as he ignited a burst of pyrokinesis from one hand. The flame acted like a jet thruster, altering his trajectory just enough to evade a spinning surge of water that sliced through the air where he had just been. The attack was precise, meant to incapacitate or kill. Oh come on, another merc? He spun again, barely avoiding another one, as his ears caught a warbling sort of humming sound a half-second before his Danger Sense pulsed again. His vision swam a bit and before he knew it, the vigilante realized he was falling. F-fuck!
Nausea Recovery: 15 minutes Vertigo
  • -2.5% Movement Speed
  • -5% Accuracy
  • -5% Reflexes
Recovery: 30 Minutes
Hardkour landed with a shaky roll on the concrete of a narrow alley in downtown. The rough landing sent a shock up his legs, but he was up in an instant, his body tense and ready. His Danger Sense didn''t let up, pulsing with urgent warnings that had him spinning on his heel, scanning the shadows for his assailant. I just got used to one! This was gonna be my gang lord, strategy arc. "Well," he said out loud, hands clenched into tight, leather-glove-clad fists at his sides, "You gonna fight me or what?" His voice was a growl, edged with the rasp of his Hardkour persona. "I don''t have all night. Places to go, mercs to punch. You know how it is." The alley was dark, especially this late at night, but it made no difference to him. His enhanced senses could pick out details even in the dimmest light. At the far end of the alley, a figure stepped out from behind a dumpster. Spotting it immediately, Greg opened his mouth to taunt again, only to freeze as another stood up from the shadows near a fire escape. Two of them? His eyes narrowed, his stance shifting subtly as he prepared for a fight. Alright, I can handle two. No problem. It''s not like I haven''t fought multiple opponents bef- His thought was cut off as his Danger Sense screamed again. Above, a silhouette hovered, outlined against the sparse light of a flickering street lamp. From the rooftop directly above, he heard someone moving and he looked up to see another figure rise to their feet. And from the entrance to another side alley, yet one more stepped out. ¡­two, three, four, five¡­ Greg''s eye twitched, his jaw clenching tight. [Analyze].[Analyze].[Analyze].[Analyze].[Analyze].
Glaive Lvl 36 Pocket-Sized Guillotine HP: 180/180 Power: Incisive Force Amplification Meet Glaive, the tiny terror with a big slice of crazy. Don''t let her mousy appearance fool you - this pint-sized powerhouse turns every knife fight into a nuclear arms race. With each swing, her blades get hungrier, transforming from butter knives to exploding lightsabers. She''s living proof that good things come in small packages, especially if those packages are filled with enough kinetic energy to split an atom. Size doesn''t matter - but boy, does momentum. Flatline Lvl 32 Shock Jock HP: 420/420 Power: Electrostatic Extremity Conduction Meet Flatline, the DJ who traded sick beats for sicker volts. This walking Tesla coil brings new meaning to "electric personality". His hugs are literally to die for, and his handshake? Let''s just say it''s shockingly bad for your health. Thrash Lvl 39 Mosh Pit Mayhem HP: 365/365 Power: Impact Reverberation Harness A punk rock nightmare who turns bar fights into demolition derbies. This walking wrecking ball treats buildings like drum sets and cars like cymbals, creating a symphony of destruction wherever he goes. With fists that could give a wrecking ball an inferiority complex and the ability to pinball around like a caffeinated squirrel, Thrash is what happens when you mix a mosh pit with a particle accelerator. Torque Lvl 36 Spin Cycle HP: 225/225 Power: Hydro-Acoustic Resonance Projection This pint-sized powerhouse turns battlefield strategy into a swirling mess. With the ability to create watery wrecking balls that pack a punch and a scream, Torque brings new meaning to "making waves". Just remember, if you hear a strange humming sound, it''s probably too late to plug your ears - or hold onto your lunch. Anthracite Lvl 42 Black Lung''s Revenge HP: 1080/1080 Power: Carbon Lattice Reinforcement From the depths of abandoned mines emerges a villain with a heart as black as coal. Anthracite is what you get when you mix childhood trauma, superpowers, and a penchant for sledgehammers. This walking lump of coal brings new meaning to "dirty fighting," turning every brawl into a coal miner''s delight.
As Greg squared his shoulders, only one thought echoed through his mind: Fuck. Grief 7.3 Grief 7.3 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The night air nipped at Seo Asada''s exposed skin as his motorcycle growled to a stop outside the seemingly deserted condominium. He dismounted with a fluid, almost careless motion, the heavy thud of his boots echoing faintly in the empty street. The damp asphalt glistened under the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights, reflecting the neon signs of the few businesses still clinging to life in this forgotten corner of the Docks. Removing his helmet, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his other hand twitching toward the cigarettes in his pocket. Not yet. The itch was there, as always, but he had to stay sharp, couldn''t take the edge off too often. Boss''s orders. Seo had made the call just ten minutes earlier, immediately after receiving the urgent text. His response had been swift, a message sent to the others before he''d even swung his leg over the bike. As he stood in the quiet, his eyes darting around the dimly lit surroundings, eyes twitching at every shadow, he knew it wouldn''t be long. The neighborhood had seen better days, that much was clear. Boarded-up windows and crumbling brickwork told a story of decline, of a once-thriving community now reduced to a ghost of its former self. But beneath the decay, Seo could see the potential. The bones were good. With the right leadership, the right vision, this place could rise again. And that''s where we come in. Right on cue, the screech of tires shattered the silence. A car roared around the corner, wrapped in aggressive red and yellow, thumping hard rap from its speakers as it came to a skidding halt across from him. Wesley Yang stumbled from the driver''s seat, his overly muscled form and bleached blonde hair unmistakable in the streetlight''s glow. "''m I late?" Wesley mumbled, voice carrying the slightly slurred tone of someone who had either been sleeping or drinking, or possibly both. Seo shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nah, you''re just in time for the party, meathead." Wesley flexed, the man''s large muscles rippling under his tight shirt. "Who ''ya callin'' a meathead, fancy boy?" Seo snorted, taking in Wesley''s ridiculous posturing. All brawn, no brains. But loyal. And in this game, loyalty''s worth more than a good gun. Before Seo could retort, another vehicle approached. This one was a stark contrast to Yang''s¡ªsilent, smooth, a matte blue luxury sedan that spoke of understated power. It pulled up with barely a whisper of sound. Joon Lee stepped out, the twenty-two-year-old looking as immaculate as ever, dressed sharply enough for a boardroom meeting despite the early hour. "Gentlemen," Lee nodded, adjusting his glasses. "I trust we''re not here for a social call?" Yang snorted, crossing his arms. "What, you didn''t read the text like I did, money man?" Lee''s eyes narrowed slightly. "I wasn''t aware you could read." "You tryin'' to say somethin'', four-eyes?" Wesley took a step forward, his fists clenching. Seo stepped between them, his voice low and raspy. "Cool it, both of you. We ain''t got time to measure dicks just yet." Fucking children, Seo thought, shaking his head. Put a bit of power in their hands and suddenly it''s all alpha male bullshit. But that''s why I''m second. To keep them in line. And considering who would be on their neck if they go too far¡­ As if on cue, another vehicle arrived. The yellow-and-black Camaro with its distinctive dragon hood wrap pulled up haphazardly, parking half into the street. Jonouchi exited quickly, his expression grave as always but with a tension to the way he held his shoulders that was noticeable. "What are we waiting for?" Jonouchi''s voice cut through the tension, his eyes scanning each of them in turn. Seo jerked his head towards the building. "Boss called. Something''s up." As they approached the entrance, Wesley cracked his knuckles. "If it''s another rat situation, boss should let me handle it." A dark chuckle left the man''s mouth. "Jonouchi got all the fun last time." Seo rolled his eyes. Jonouchi got ''all the fun'' because Yuri was directly in charge of him. He felt all the more betrayed and allowing him to handle the situation was the young boss''s way of ensuring his loyalty and allowing him some revenge. He knew Wesley knew that but the man liked to run his mouth anyway. Lee sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Brute force isn''t always the answer, Yang." "Enough." Jonouchi''s calm voice cut through their bickering before it could truly start. Thank fuck for Jonouchi, Seo thought. Scary fucker though. Seo''s keys jangled softly as he unlocked the door, the metallic clicks sounding oddly loud in the quiet night. He didn''t wait to see if the others followed as he took the stairs two at a time, his familiarity with the layout guiding him swiftly to the top floor. "Yo, Seo," Wesley called from behind, slightly out of breath. The man was not one for cardio, obviously, and it often showed whenever he had to move. "Any idea what this is about? Boss ain''t usually this cryptic." True. Seo knew that. If there was one thing the old boss and the new boss had in common, they were decidedly simple people, though the new boss had far more layers than Lung ever did. Both Seo and Wesley appreciated the kid sitting atop the new ABB for that, he didn''t pretend to be complicated or at least more complicated than he had to be, all the various identities and costumes aside. But the message was cryptic. Seo paused, glancing back at the others. "No clue. But if he''s calling us all in like this..." He left the implications hanging in the air, heavy as the cigarette smoke he desperately craved. His fingers twitched, itching for the familiar comfort of a cigarette between them. Focus, Seo. Now''s not the time. Lee''s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, the lenses reflecting the dim light of the stairwell. "Financial troubles, perhaps? Or a territorial dispute?" "Or someone needs a good ass-kicking," Wesley added, grinning like a kid promised ice cream. He cracked his knuckles again, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. Jonouchi''s calm voice cut through the tension. "Whatever it is, we handle it." The tense smoker frowned to himself as they reached the top floor, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Whatever it is, I doubt it''s good. Boss ain''t one for vague unless shit''s real. Real bad, real dangerous, or real fucking complicated. And in their line of work, all three tended to go hand in hand. At the door of the main condo, Seo paused only briefly to select another key from his chain. The metal clinked softly, a jarring counterpoint to the thundering of his heart. He could feel the tension radiating off the others, their anticipation a palpable thing. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, the others close behind. The room was enveloped in darkness, thick with the tension of unspoken questions and the heavier weight of anticipation. Seo''s hand was steady as he reached for the light switch, though his gut churned with a mix of fear and concern. The light flicked on, casting a harsh glow over the scene. Four grown men breathed in at once and held their breath. The boss stood there, his appearance a fucking disaster zone. His helmet was cracked and shattered in half, face almost completely exposed with the domino mask beneath in shreds. Blood matted his hair, clumping it together and trailing down in streaks of red across his face, mixed in with sweat and dirt. The kid''s face was messed up with both blood and swelling, a massive gash over his brow showing white that could only be skull and slashes and cuts tearing into the side of his face and exposing the teeth in his mouth on one side entirely. Jesus fucking Christ, Seo thought, his stomach lurching at the sight. What the hell happened to him? His clothes were no better, the costume a ruin of tears and slashes, soaked not just with blood but also water, sticking to his body in places that weren''t torn apart or completely shredded to expose wounded flesh. The bitter smell of smoke hung to the burnt parts of his costume leathers, the smoky smell mixing with the sharp tang of ozone. Electricity? Seo''s eyes darted around the room, taking in details his companions might miss. Water pooled on the wood flooring, reflecting the harsh overhead light. Bloody footprints traced a stumbling path from the window to where the boss now stood, the crimson a stark contrast against the pale wood. Crimson handprints smeared the wall, a grisly connect-the-dots of the kid''s journey into the room. He crawled in through the window, Seo realized, his mind racing. Probably couldn''t make it through the front door. "Boss?" Seo''s voice was the first to break the heavy silence, raspy with concern he couldn''t quite hide. He took a step forward, hand outstretched, but hesitated. Don''t crowd him. Give him space. Jonouchi moved forward, hands raised as if to offer support. His voice was gentle, almost fatherly. "Young sir, you need medical attention-" The teenager looked up, as if just noticing the four of them now. Seo doubted that, but the sudden focus in the boss''s eyes had him also doubting his doubt. There was a sharpness there, a clarity that cut through the pain and exhaustion. There was silence for what felt like the longest time, the only sound the drip of water from the boss''s saturated costume. Then the boss spoke, his voice raspy, pained, but also furious. "...I''m being hunted." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The pain in Greg''s skull was excruciating, a relentless throb that made it difficult to stand. Blood blurred his vision in one eye, the thick, metallic taste of it coating his mouth as he struggled to form words. "...I''m being hunted." His voice sounded distant, as if he were speaking through water, his ears still ringing from the assault. Each breath hurt like a bitch, his lungs burning with every shallow inhale. His mouth was full of blood, his tongue half torn. Shit, did I bite it? Or did someone else? The thought swam lazily through his mind, disconnected from the urgency of the situation. The room spun, faces of his gang blurring into a kaleidoscope of concern. Focus, dumbass. You''re the boss here. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision, but the world remained out of focus. Concussion, right. Or worse. Fuck. "Boss?" Seo''s voice cut through the haze, sharp with worry. The older man''s face swam into view, his dark eyes wide with concern. Greg blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. "I... they came out of nowhere." He raised a hand to his forehead, wincing as his fingers brushed against raw, open flesh. The pain was sharp, insistent. "Didn''t even... didn''t even see them coming..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The air had vibrated with a menacing hum, an ominous warning that sent his Danger Sense into overdrive. All of a sudden, the world shifted as Greg''s legs felt wobbly, his vision swimming as if he were underwater. Danger Sense screamed even as he stumbled forward on his feet, almost unsure which way was up.
Nausea - Serious Recovery: 1 Hour Vertigo - Serious -5% Movement Speed -10% Accuracy -10% Reflexes Recovery: 1 Hour
Resistance: Bio Lv Up! Lv 6
Then, with the ferocity of a storm, an explosive force struck his back, catapulting him forward with violent momentum. - 288 He didn''t even have time to think as something¡ªor someone¡ªclamped onto him from behind. Arms and legs encircled his torso in a vice-like grip. Panic surged as he tried to throw them off, but agony erupted through his body like wildfire as volts of electricity coursed through him, seizing his muscles in brutal spasms. His teeth clenched so hard he thought they might shatter, his jaw locking up as his body convulsed uncontrollably. - 56 - 62 - 53 - 57
Resistance: Shock Lv Up! Lv 9
Quest Gained! Most Dangerous Game It seems you''ve topped the charts where you least want to¡ªon the hit list of five mercenary parahumans, each more eager than the last to claim your head as a trophy. Well-trained and skilled as well as powerful, these guys don''t have time to play around like villains and neither do you. Survival isn''t just a goal; it''s a must. Dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge¡ªbecause these headhunters play for keeps. Objective: Survive and escape the onslaught of the five mercenary parahumans. Success: 30000 XP, +2 SPD, +5 VIT Failure: Seriously, do you need to ask?
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there."...I''m fine..." His response was automatic, a lie told more to reassure himself than to answer Seo. Blood was pooling in one of his eyes, the blue probably more red than anything else considering how badly his face had been smashed in. I have to be fine. I''m the boss. I can''t be weak. Can''t show weakness. "You sure?" Seo''s voice was tinged with doubt, eyes narrowed. Greg looked up, trying to muster clarity. "I..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C?
[Muscle Paralysis] - Serious Recovery: 5 Seconds
The ground rushed up to meet him. A savage blow to the neck cut off his breath, his body hitting the asphalt with a sickening crunch. - 182 - 16 His limbs twitched uncontrollably, every nerve ending sparking with electric fire. Before he could even gasp for air, a crushing weight pinned him down. Through the haze of pain and confusion, a dark, stony figure loomed over him. The streetlight behind cast the attacker in shadow, but Greg could make out the glint of what looked like polished coal where eyes should be. The figure''s head, hard as bedrock and just as unforgiving, slammed into Greg''s forehead. Once. - 264 [Critical!] Twice. - 182 Again and again, each impact driving him deeper into the crumbling ground beneath. Stars exploded behind his eyes, each hit sending a fresh wave of agony through his skull. He could feel his bones creaking, threatening to give way under the relentless assault. - 223 - 294 [Critical!]
Cracked Skull - Severe Recovery: 12 Hours Concussion - Severe -20% INT -25% WIS -20% Reflexes -15% Accuracy Recovery: 4 Hours Severe Hemorrhaging - Severe -20% VIT Recovery: 8 Hours Eye Socket Fracture - Severe -25% Perception Recovery: 8 Hours
VIT + 2
In a moment of desperate clarity, Greg''s survival instinct kicked in. "DASH STRAIGHT!" With a guttural roar that tasted of blood and fury, he bucked his hips and surged upwards glowing with yellow light and throwing his attacker off-balance. His hands, slick with sweat and grime, grappled for purchase on the figure''s coal-like skin. With a herculean effort, Greg flipped their positions. Now he straddled the burly man, pinning those stony arms to the ground. Up close, he could see the modified miner''s outfit, black and blue fabric stretched tight over the man''s massive muscular form. "My turn, Rock-for-Brains," Greg snarled, his voice raw and unfamiliar to his own ears. He inhaled deeply. The air burned in his lungs, and with a roar that was more dragon than human, it burned outside of his lungs as he exhaled a torrent of flames directly into his attacker''s face. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Nausea overwhelmed him as water bombs exploded around him, each burst disorienting, designed to incapacitate. The world tilted and spun, his equilibrium shot to hell. Water filled his mouth, his nose, choking him, blinding him. Another grip from behind, a cackling voice locking his body in painful paralysis. "Not so tough now, are ya, Mr Warlord?" The voice was high-pitched, manic, the words dripping with glee.
Resistance: Shock Lv Up! Lv 10
[Muscle Paralysis] - Serious Recovery: 5 Seconds
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg stared at each of his men one by one, their faces a mixture of shock, concern, and something he never saw in them¡ªfear, for him. The realization hit him like another blow, the gravity of the situation settling in his battered bones. "Boss, we need to get you patched up," Seo insisted, taking a step forward. Greg held up a hand, wincing at the movement. "No." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? In a blur of motion, a powerful fist connected with his body, a blow that felt like someone took an entire car crash and compacted it in the space of a human hand. He felt it hurl him sideways into a dumpster with a crash that left his ears ringing and his side aching. The impact rattled his teeth, the taste of blood fresh in his mouth. - 419
Resistance: Blunt Lv Up! Lv 72 Vit + 1!
¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? He dismissed his mask in a burst of blue and white pixels, letting them watch as his skin visibly knit itself together. As the mask vanished, Greg turned his head to the side and spat out a pointed tooth. The jagged thing embedded into a wall, adding another splatter of blood to it. He saw as each of them noticed it, even beneath his shredded mask and bloody face. It was slow on the surface, but easily hundreds of times faster than a regular person''s. He''d cut his hands open enough times to watch the writhing of flesh as it knitted itself back together, training his own Vitality at the same time. It was terrifying and fascinating in equal measures, because flesh simply shouldn''t do that. Greg shook his head, wiping the blood from around his eyes as he swept his hair back with the same hand, dying even more of his locks red. "I''m fine but¡­ those fuckin''..." He grit his teeth and growled, sharp teeth and bright blue dragon eyes visible. "They... they''re coming for me. All of them." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Out of nowhere, a throwing knife whistled through the air, detonating upon impact and tearing a gruesome, burning hole in his chest. The pain was white-hot, searing through flesh and bone. He could smell his own skin burning, the acrid scent of charred meat filling his nostrils. - 339 [Critical!] - 28 - 24 - 26 - 29 - 21 - 19 - 22 - 25 - 24 - 23 - 76
Shrapnel Wounds - Critical Recovery: 12 Hours Bleeding - Severe -1% HP per minute Recovery: 6 Hours Shattered Ribs (4) - Severe Recovery: 8 Hours Punctured Lung - Severe Recovery: 3 Hours
Resistance: Pierce Lv Up! Lv 42
FUCK IT, FUCK THIS, FUCK YOU! A wordless inhuman shout left his mouth as he shouted his lungs raw, arms spread out to both ends of the alley. The backstreet roared with flame, becoming an open furnace as Greg exploded outwards with heat and fire from both hands.
+ 20000 XP + 40000 XP (Bonus) + 1 Perk Point
Perk Gained: Blade Inferno Blade Inferno When steel meets fire, sparks fly. This perk supercharges your bladed weaponry with both intense heat and explosive kinetic energy. The harder you swing, the more your blade is enhanced by searing temperatures that can melt through defenses, but also imbues each strike with explosive force, causing shockwaves upon impact, with neither harming the weapon.
Quest Success! Most Dangerous Game It seems you''ve topped the charts where you least want to¡ªon the hit list of five mercenary parahumans, each more eager than the last to claim your head as a trophy. Well-trained and skilled as well as powerful, these guys don''t have time to play around like villains and neither do you. Survival isn''t just a goal; it''s a must. Dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge¡ªbecause these headhunters play for keeps. Objective: Survive and escape the onslaught of the five mercenary parahumans. Success: 30000 XP, +2 SPD, +5 VIT Failure: Seriously, do you need to ask?
+ 30000 XP + 2 SPD + 5 VIT
Level Up! You are now level 34! + 2 Stat Points
By the time the fire faded and Greg forced himself to run, only four capes were left standing behind him. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "All of who?" Wesley demanded, his muscles tensing as if ready for a fight. His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting an attack at any moment. Greg''s vision swam again, memories and reality blurring. He gripped the edge of a nearby table, steadying himself. "Everyone. They said there''s over a dozen of them¡­ mercenaries, assassins, all capes, after me." "That''s¡­ the expenses¡­ a single merc cape for a job like yours," Joon interjected, adjusting his glasses. "The logistics alone-" "It''s happening," Greg cut him off, his voice raspy but firm. He looked at each of them again, seeing the doubt, the confusion, the fear. "I''m going to war." "We." Greg''s head snapped up, reptilian eyes narrowing intensely at the man that just spoke. "What?" Seo barely flinched, the action nearly invisible if you weren''t looking directly at his face. But Greg had. "What." "What I said, boss," Seo nodded his head slowly, defiantly. "was that we''re at war. They come after you, they''re coming after us. And we ain''t letting you go down without a fight." Jonouchi nodded beside Seo, the large martial artist''s hands clenched tight at his sides. "Whatever we are now, it is far better than what we were. The people still fear, yes, but the fear is for those who would hurt them, not for those that should protect." Wesley shrugged, a cocky grin the only thing hiding the nerves on his face. "Yeah, boss. Truth is, shit would be a civil war right now without you. If we weren''t already fucked by the Empire, plenty of fucks I know would have slit my throat." Lee tilted his head to the side. "Truthfully, your investments into the establishment of territory have great potential and I can''t wait to see it. On top of that, you run a much more efficient and functional management system." Greg blinked, the pounding in his head almost lessened by his confusion at Lee''s words. "I read a book on management and gave you guys a basic org chart." The bespectacled young man let out a sigh. "Do you think the old dragon had one before? That most gangs even know what one is? Most businesses barely do." The blond teenager grunted, accepting that logic. Fair. He glanced at all four of them in turn, before landing once again on Seo. Might as well. "Seo, come here¡­" The pale Japanese man blinked before taking a few steps forward, deceptive casualness not enough to hide his growing nerves. "Boss¡­" "You trust me¡­" Greg interrupted again, this time to Seo. "Right?" "...yeah, boss," the Japanese man nodded slowly, eyes firm. Good. Greg shook his head and stumbled forward, torn gloves exposing ragged, raw and severely bleeding fingers as he tapped a wide-eyed Seo in the chest with two outstretched fingers. "Good, because I¡­" "What?" "...trust...." Two fingers shone blue and gold as Seo Asada''s eyes went wide. "...you." Grief 7.4 Grief 7.4 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? "Fucking kill me," was what left Kenny Whitman''s mouth as he closed the tap, shaking his wet hands dry rather than bother with either paper or the hand dryer. Another fucking day. The same routine, the same bullshit, the same endless parade of entitled patients and overworked colleagues. It was enough to make him want to scream, but he swallowed the urge, as he always did. He let out a sigh as he dropped his palms onto the sink counter, aware that he was kinda ruining the whole point of washing his hands but not really finding it in him to care. Sixteen hour shifts should be in the Geneva convention or some shit. The thought brought a bitter smirk to his lips, the closest thing to a smile he could muster these days. He stared at his face in the mirror, taking in the haggard reflection that greeted him. The dark circles stood out under the harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom, deep purple smudges that spoke of too many late nights and early mornings. His blond hair, once his pride and joy, now lay limp and lifeless against his skull, the color dulled by stress and neglect. I look like a fuckin'' corpse, man. After a moment of staring, he tried to smile at the man in the mirror, a weak attempt at psyching himself up for the journey home. The result was more of a grimace than a grin, his facial muscles struggling to remember how to form the expression. Gross. He shook his head, disgusted with himself. I shoulda gone to college man. He snorted as the thought flickered into his mind, like he could even afford the cost of Brockton Community College with all the bills he had to pay. Dad in prison and mom drinking like a fish ¡ª someone had to pay the bills and take care of his little brother and sister. Shaking his head again, as if to dislodge the depressing thoughts, Kenny shuffled out of the empty bathroom. He winced slightly as the even brighter lights of the hospital proper seared into his eyes, the stark white walls and gleaming linoleum floor reflecting the fluorescent glare with unforgiving intensity. Fucking hate this place. Standing just shy of six feet, his slender frame moved towards the hospital''s exit with a sense of relief, almost unnoticed by the other hospital staff, patients and visitors. He was just another cog in the machine, another faceless drone in scrubs. Story of my life. Invisible Kenny, that''s me. As he punched out for the day, the click of the time clock sounded off in his head like an alarm, finally allowing him to finally finally let go of the slightly bland smile he kept on his face while on the clock. Freedom, sweet freedom. The thought was tinged with irony. What was he free to do, really? Go home to his family''s shitty apartment, eat some shitty microwaved food, and pass out on their shitty couch? Living the dream. Pulling the ID card from around his neck, he stuffed it haphazardly into the pocket of his windbreaker, the lanyard strings hanging limply out. He couldn''t be bothered to tuck them in properly. Who cares? Not like anyone''s gonna notice. The cool afternoon air greeted him as he pushed through the glass doors, shrugging deeper into his jacket against the rain. Great. Just great. The weather matched his mood perfectly, the gray skies and steady drizzle a perfect backdrop to his misery. Walking towards the parking lot, Kenny shook his head, muttering to himself about everything that had pissed him off since he had clocked in at 11 pm. It was a long list because of course, he had to work with a list of dickheads a mile and a half long. "Why do we never get Panacea at this place? Private hospitals got sick people in ''em too," he grumbled, his words barely audible as he hunched his head down against the rain. Fucking Panacea. The thought of the famous healer always made his blood boil. Must be nice, being a big shot hero. Bet she doesn''t have to deal with half the shit I do. He kicked a pebble, watching it skitter across the wet asphalt. Probably gets paid more too. Fucking unfair. Before he could really pick up steam, his thoughts and quiet complaints were interrupted by a hard hit as someone bumped into him, jostling his tired frame. What the fuck? He stumbled, barely catching himself before he face-planted on the sidewalk. The quick pat on his shoulder and a mumbled "sorry about that" were the only acknowledgments before the person hurried away. Kenny, caught off guard and too tired to react with anything more than a tired blink, watched the stranger''s back as they merged into the crowd entering the hospital. For a brief moment, annoyance flickered across his face, a scowl forming as he turned away. He didn''t recognize the person, or see anything but a shock of bright blond hair with the sort of life his own never had and a face hidden behind a hospital mask. Probably some doctor''s kid, running late for a visit. The thought was tinged with bitterness. Must be nice, having people who care about you. Shaking his head again, Kenny kept on trudging towards the bus stop. "...Asshole," he muttered under his breath. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? MAY 27, 2011 11:32 AM The pickpocket slipped on the stolen lanyard and adjusted the thing around his neck so the ID card hung conspicuously from his neck, front and center across his chest. Dressed in plain silver scrubs and with a matching hospital mask on his face, he blended seamlessly into the flow of people ¡ª hospital staff and patients alike ¡ª bustling through MedHall Private Care''s wide corridors. In his hand, he carried a clipboard loaded with blank form-papers, the perfect thing to flip through whenever he needed to look busy and occupied, eyes flicking down to it every now and again. As he pushed through the sliding glass doors, he paced through the lobby. The reception area buzzed with activity, but no one paid him any mind. Families huddled in clusters around the waiting area didn''t even look at him as he moved with a calm, calculated pace. He was just another face in the crowd, navigating through families wrapped up in their own worries. He cut across the lobby, eyes quickly glancing at signs but not wasting a moment by staying still, the thief maintaining a careful balance between intentional movement of someone needing to get somewhere and the deliberate slow pace of someone whose shift was far from over. Snippets of conversation drifted past him as he wove through the throng. "...need to schedule a follow-up..." "...in the cafeteria, I think..." "...the doctor will be with you shortly..." He let the words wash over him, not really listening, just using them as background noise to blend into. Moving with that measured pace, it took him barely half a minute to find the staff elevator and waiting for it took at least twice that. He couldn''t afford to stay still for long, an easy way to get caught. Nerves creeped slightly higher as he continued standing there with his face down towards the clipboard in his loose grasp. Come on, come on... he thought, resisting the urge to tap his foot impatiently. Don''t need anyone getting a good look at me. When the door finally opened with a ding, he had to hold himself back from letting out a slight gasp of relief, his eye flinching as he stared at several other MedHall workers. Shit. Okay, play it cool. You belong here. He stepped into the elevator, giving a brief nod to the others as he positioned himself at the very front, using the brief ride to mentally review the floor plan he had memorized a few hours before. The elevator hummed as it ascended, the soft ding of passing floors punctuating the silence. He could feel the eyes of the other occupants on his back, or maybe that was just his paranoia talking. Fuck, why does this thing move so slow? It''s like it''s taunting me. When the doors finally opened, he stepped out with the flow, offering a brief nod to a nurse passing by, moving fast enough that she couldn''t really get a good look at him or his lanyard but not too fast that he looked like someone to notice. Spotting an empty gurney along the corridor, he gripped it firmly, adopting the role of a worker moving equipment. Pushing the gurney helped him blend in, making his movements across the hospital floor less conspicuous. He pushed the gurney slowly, peering occasionally at the clipboard as if confirming his destination. All about the details. As he walked, the intercom crackled to life above him. "Dr. Weiss to OR 3. Dr. Weiss to OR 3." After almost two minutes of traversing around the second floor like this, he spotted what he was looking for and allowed himself a slight smile beneath his mask, quickly moving at a relaxed pace toward the staircase entrance. There we go. Parking the gurney neatly against the wall, he slipped into the stairwell and quickly made his way up the stairs, not so fast that anyone paying attention would notice something though. He needed to break up his path as much as possible given the cameras in this place, and as a bonus, it let him avoid the crowded main elevators during the shift change. The less opportunities he had to interact with hospital staff, the better. Less talking, less chance of fucking up. The stairwell was quiet, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. He took the steps two at a time, his breathing steady despite the climb. Upon reaching the fourth floor, he took a moment to reassess his surroundings. This area of the hospital was quieter, the urgent pace of the emergency and general wards replaced by the relative calm of specialized care units. He made a point of stopping to sanitize his hands at a nearby dispenser, one eye on the flow of staff and visitors. Navigating towards room 412, he slowed his pace, peering occasionally at the clipboard as if confirming his destination. The hall outside the room was momentarily empty¡ªa perfect bit of luck. Glancing behind him for a quick moment, he nodded to himself and slipped into the room, easing the door shut with a gentle click that barely disturbed the air. As he pushed the door open, the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the sterile tang of medical equipment greeted him. The room was bright and inviting, well-lit and filled with Get Well Soon cards lining the windowsill and bouquets of flowers he knew were replaced regularly, adding color to the space. He placed the clipboard on the counter with a soft clack, the sound stark against the quiet of the room. The quiet of the room enveloped him as he walked further into the room, his movements precise and cautious as he came to a stop right in front of the foot of the bed. His fingers moved to the mask, removing it from his face and slowly pocketing it. Greg Veder looked at the girl laying still in bed, a sad smile on his face. "Hey there, Emma." ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ¨C ? Emma lay there, peaceful and untouched by the chaos of the outside world, chest rising and falling slowly. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the room, a constant reminder of her precarious state. Greg stood by her bedside, his eyes fixed on her face, a mixture of emotions playing across his own. He walked up to her side, pushing the rolling table full of flowers aside. The blond leaned back slightly, rubbing his face with one hand, and stared at her for a long moment. He breathed in deeply, the air somehow both clean and suffocating. Shit, Em. You don''t deserve this. Any of this. The thought weighed heavy on his mind, a constant presence in the back of his head. "...A lot''s happened since the last time I was here," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. The words felt strange on his tongue, like he was telling a story that wasn''t quite his own. Understatement of the fucking century, Greg. He chuckled dryly, the sound more a puff of air than anything else. "Like you wouldn''t believe. You know how I took over the ABB? Which is still really weird, I gotta tell you, but I''m kinda just rolling with that. Either I do it or the city goes to fucking hell... again." He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. The artificial lighting gave her skin an ethereal glow, making her seem more like a porcelain doll than a living person. Fragile. That''s what she looks like. Fragile and breakable and... fuck, I can''t lose her. "The Empire kinda declared war on me for that." He tilted his head to the side. "Or, I guess, they declared war on me for blowing up an Empire drug hideout by throwing a van at it. Kidnapped Sparky too," he frowned, lines on his forehead appearing. The memory of that night was still fresh, the fear and rage a bitter taste in his mouth. "For unrelated reasons... never really got an answer on that one." Sparky. His best friend, pretty much his brother. They took him to get to me. Because of me. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant ache in his chest. He paused, running a hand through his hair. It was disheveled, sticking up in odd directions, a testament to the number of times he''d raked his fingers through it in frustration. "My mom''s doing good. I''ve got a couple guys tailing her every time she goes out... just to make sure she''s safe. Good guys, I trust them." Mom. The thought of her sent a pang through his heart. She doesn''t know. Can''t know. It would kill her. "Brockton Bay''s a mess... and it''s gonna get worse. I... it''s insane but nobody else is gonna do it or could do it or would listen to me if I told them about it. I gotta keep it from falling apart," he murmured, more to himself than to Emma. His hands clenched into fists, the knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. I have to. There''s no one else. "I got New York Asians gunning for my city. I got Boston Asians trying to poach my people. Assassins and mercs coming out of nowhere to take my head," he continued, voice growing softer with each word until he was almost hissing. His tone was incredulous, a mix of anger, frustration and pure confusion. "How they think they can do this to me ¡ª to my fucking city..." My city. My people. My responsibility. The thoughts pounded in his head, a constant mantra driving him forward. He walked away abruptly, pacing back and forth by the bed, movements almost erratic. "I fought one, and then out of nowhere, five jumped me the next day. I can''t believe it¡­" This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Five of them. Five fucking capes, all gunning for me. The memory was a blur of pain and rage, of desperate struggle and frantic escape. He shook his head. "They beat my ass, Emma." He gestured directly at his chest with both hands, an incredulous expression on his face. "Me! Like¡­" he grit his teeth, almost growling. "Like, sure I get the fundraiser, because I was kinda playing around¡­ majorly playing around, but this was me in my element. Hardkour, one of the best me''s, and I got frogstomped by a bunch of fucking no-names." Hardkour. The ninja, the shadow, the lethal protector. The perfect persona he''d created¡­ largely accidentally, but still¡­ And I failed. I fucking failed. The admission burned. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked at Emma again. His expression softened, the hard line of his mouth relaxing into something more tender. "But I''m still here, Em. Still fighting." His hands twitched at his sides, eager for action, for purpose. "Because someone has to." His teeth sharpened in his mouth, anger spiking. "I''ll rip off their heads if they think they can take away what belongs to me," Greg hissed, his voice a whisper. His fists clenched at his sides as he stared off at nothing, eyes fixed on the wall but seeing something far beyond it. The rage in his voice was palpable, a simmering fury that threatened to boil over at any moment. They think they can just waltz in and take what''s mine? Hell no. Not on my watch. It''s why he did what he had to. Last night. This morning? Hours ago. Before he could think twice, or hesitate. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? EARLIER THAT MORNING Energy crackled from his fingertips, vivid blue and yellow, as Seo stumbled back, caught off guard. The man''s eyes widened, shock and confusion warring on his face as he stared at the teenage cape in front of him. Shit, did I overdo it? Greg thought, a flicker of concern crossing his mind as he watched his second-in-command clutch his midsection. The Japanese man took a few shaky steps away, one hand pressed against his stomach as if expecting to find a wound. He stared wide-eyed at his boss, disbelief etched into every line of his face. Seo dropped to one knee with a thud on the wood floor, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the room. The others¡ªJonouchi, Wesley, and Joon¡ªstarted forward in alarm, their hands twitching towards the fallen man. None of them made a move in Greg''s direction, something he couldn''t help but notice. "Don''t." His voice was firm, authority hedged with aggression, and they responded like he expected, freezing as he turned toward them with blue eyes slit like a reptile. He wasn''t sure if it was the eyes or the tone, but they seemed like deer caught in headlights when he looked right at them. Probably the eyes. Seo''s coughing subsided, the sound harsh and grating in the quiet room. The man raised a shaky hand, wiping the tears from his eyes as he took in a slow breath. He looked back at the three and coughed again once, a final, shuddering thing. "I-I''m f-fine, fuck... Chest''s a bit prickly, but I''m fine, Jesus, fuck." His voice wavered as he regained his breath, the words coming out in a rasp. He looked up at Greg, confusion and a hint of fear in his dark eyes. "Wh-what was that?" What was that? Good fucking question. Even as battered as he was, Greg found something to focus on, ignoring his pain as he answered calmly, "That was my power." He scanned their faces, the four of them reacting like he expected. Seo stared in confusion, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together what had just happened. Joon''s eyes widened in realization, the gears turning behind his glasses. Jonouchi simply tilted his head, not giving away much, but Greg could see the calculations happening in his mind. Wesley just blinked, probably still a few seconds behind. Greg frowned, the expression pulling at the open gaping wound on the side of his face that exposed his teeth to the world. "A part of it, I guess." How do I explain this? Joon, eyes wide behind his glasses, asked, awe clear in the Korean man''s voice, "You gave him powers?" Huh, that''s how, I guess. Greg almost laughed, the sound bubbling up in his throat before he swallowed it back down. Seo, still on the ground, echoed in shock, "You what?" I gave you a piece of me. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but Greg bit them back. Theo and Sparky might be willing to accept the whole "I''m magic" thing but he doubted four grown men would be as quick to jump on that bandwagon. Jonouchi''s eyes narrowed on Greg''s fingers, the digits still crackling with residual energy. Okay, maybe one of them would. Wesley, piecing things together, threw out a guess, "Like Teacher?" Fucking Teacher, really? Greg almost snorted at the comparison. Seo, still on the ground, snapped his attention to Wesley, now more than slightly alarmed, "Like who!?" Fuck, not the reaction I was going for. The teenager shook his head and clicked his tongue in annoyance, the action harder than he expected as the flesh in his mouth was still piecing itself together. "No, not like Teacher," he waved off the comparison. "This is yours." Seo slowly rose to his feet, his legs shaky but holding. "No mind control." It wasn''t a question, but the nerves were still there. Greg gave him an understanding look. "No, no mind control. Jesus, what do you take me for? I just gave you a bit of my own power. It''s yours now. Not much right now, but it should grow with you." Seo blinked, the man glancing down at his arms as he flexed them. "Shit." Shit indeed. Greg continued speaking, his voice low but clear, each word carefully chosen. "If we''re at war, you need to be able to fight with me." Wesley''s confused face shifted into a grin, the gold-chain wearing gangster leaning forward with excitement. "You mean¡­" Greg nodded solemnly. "All of you, I can trust," he said, his gaze sweeping across the group. He held up one hand, the index and middle finger glowing intensely. The yellow light was particularly vibrant and dense, the solid gold of Reinforcement, outshining the blue. "I''m giving you a gift. Use it well and I''ll give you the rest." What he was doing was different from what he had done to Theo or Sparky. None of them were going to be near even what Sparky was that first day, but they''d be stronger than they were now, at least. Faster. Tougher. Human-plus, if not superhuman. Not like any of them would ever have a power like Theo''s, and that didn''t even have anything to do with him. Especially not with an unfinished Awakening. If anything, really, it was closer to what he had done to Emma. And, honestly, that was as important as anything else. I have to know. I have to know if it''ll work. "No more ABB. No more ''Azn Bad Boyz''. If you''re gonna be like me, we need a new name. We are the Ronin." Greg''s gaze dropped, eyes narrowed as his two fingers blazed with dual light. "Jonouchi, come here." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? MAY 27, 2011 12:12 PM Creak. Greg was thrust out of his thoughts as the doorknob rustled, the sound as loud as a gunshot in the quiet of the room. His head snapped to the side, eyes wide as his heart jumped into his throat. Shit, shit, shit! His mind raced, scenarios flashing through his head at breakneck speed. Okay, okay, think fast. Gotta hide, gotta- The door cracked open and an older nurse in silver scrubs stuck her head in, the fluorescent light from the hallway spilling into the room. The graying woman knitted her eyebrows together in a confused frown as she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. Please don''t see me, please don''t see me... She scanned the room, her gaze slipping over Emma''s still form, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound. Her eyes swept across the seemingly empty space, passing over the corner where Greg was perched without a second glance. "...Odd," she murmured, before gently closing the door, leaving as quickly as she intruded. Greg rolled his eyes from where he was perched at the corner of the room above the door, hands and feet spidered onto the walls as he clung to the surface with his [Adhesion]. Odd? I''ll show you ''odd'', lady. I''m the King of Odd. The Emperor of Eccentricity. His body relaxed as he released his grip on the walls, unique abilities allowing him to descend silently to the floor, landing with a soft thud on the linoleum.
"That''s probably my cue to leave," he muttered to himself, though his feet carried him to Emma''s bedside instead of the door. He stood there, watching the sleeping girl silently for a few good seconds. She looks so peaceful. Like she''s just taking a nap, not... He swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. No. She''s gonna be fine. I''ll make sure of it. "What I did with Sparky... it was more balanced, more... intentional." He paused, looking down at his hands as he raised them up to his face, both now glowing with an intense light ¡ª one with a bright gold aura, the other a steady sapphire. The colors danced across his skin, casting strange shadows on his face. Yin and Yang. Balance. That''s what I need. The thing he had noticed about what he had done differently with Sparky compared to Emma was down to the simple fact that he had simply been panicked, near-hysteric. Just flooding Will with a touch of Mana in her system when all he wanted to do was keep her from dying. It was a Hail Mary, and he hadn''t quite finished the job. I was so scared. So desperate. I didn''t think, I just... did. Sparky''s had been an equal flooding of Will and Mana, on top of having been far less damaged than Emma had been. Theo had been a test case, both unharmed and flooded with equal amounts of Mana and Will, without even a proper attempt at Reinforcement. The other test cases ¡ª granted, only four of them ¡ª just confirmed what he had already assumed he had done to Emma. All Greg had really done back then was Reinforce Emma''s body permanently, with a little bit of Mana to keep it going. He had been thinking about it for weeks now, the thought popping into his head when he compared Sparky and her. Then Theo and her and Sparky. And then finally, his four lieutenants. The four had gotten what she had, and remained fine. It was only now that Greg could properly understand what he''d done. An incomplete job. Yang, but no Yin. All body, little mind. He was pretty sure the person''s subconscious could handle the rest, but he had to give them what they needed, in equal amounts. So, now he had to fix that. It''s all about balance. Push and pull. Yin and Yang. Slowly, deliberately, Greg placed both his palms over Emma''s hand, feeling the delicate bones under her skin. Her hand was cool to the touch, almost unnaturally so. "I tried to Reinforce you before, just pouring whatever I could into keeping you here. But it wasn''t enough, was it?" His voice cracked a little, the words catching in his throat. "... God, I hope this works." He pushed the energy into her, the light from his hands enveloping them both, casting strange, dancing shadows across the walls. The room was silent save for the hum of machinery and the soft whisper of energy flowing from him to her. Please, please let this work. I can''t lose her. Not like this. Greg waited. And waited. For several minutes, the room remained silent ¡ª the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft hum of the energy. Greg''s eyes remained fixed on Emma''s face, searching for any sign of change, any flicker of movement. Come on, come on... But there was nothing. The only response was the unchanging beep of the monitor, the unwavering rise and fall of her chest. His shoulders slumped, the energy fading from his hands as the realization hit him. It didn''t work. Why didn''t it work? He pulled back, standing up straight as he glanced back at Emma, her face still the picture of peaceful slumber, unaware of his efforts, his desperation. "Fuck." He shook his head, and as quietly as he entered, Greg left the room. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? MedHall Private Care Patient Medical Report Unit: Long Term Care Room Number: 412 Date: May 27, 2011
Patient Information: Name: Emma Barnes Date of Birth: July 19, 1995 Age: 15 Medical Record Number: 254-897-310
Incident Report: Date of Incident: May 27, 2011 Time of Incident: 12:32 PM Details: Patient, comatose for approximately two months, abruptly regained consciousness, displaying acute distress and confusion; coma was spontaneous, not medically induced. Observations:
  • Responsive to external stimuli
  • Exhibited severe agitation
  • Exhibited confusion with no recall of events leading to hospitalization
  • Physical exam revealed no new injuries or deterioration
Actions Taken:
  • Administered anxiolytics for distress
  • Conducted neurological evaluation
  • Ordered brain MRI and blood tests
Current Status:
  • Patient stabilized under sedation; remains in intensive care with continuous monitoring. Psychological support arranged for post-awakening recovery.
Doctor''s Notes:
  • Sudden awakening with this presentation, while concerning, aligns with observed reactions in cases of spontaneous emergence from coma.
Signed, Dr. Marion Lund Attending Physician MedHall Private Care May 27, 2011 Grief 7.5 Grief 7.5 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Evening settled over Brockton Bay, the setting of the sun on an already hectic Saturday bringing with it the usual mix of distant city noise. The low thrum of activity from the Docks nearby barely penetrated the thick concrete walls of Greg''s progressively-refurbished warehouse hideout. Home away from home, he mused, taking in the large open interior filled with brand new showroom-worthy furniture ¡ª including the living area centered around a comfy pull-out couch. All of it, the couch especially, was provided by one specific furniture showroom in ABB ¡ª no, Ronin ¡ª territory; paid for, of course. All in all, the blond was beginning to consider it a second home, or maybe a first-and-a-half. Greg''s eyes darted around the room, taking in the mismatched furniture with a mix of pride and mild embarrassment. It wasn''t exactly Better Homes and Gardens material, but it was his. Well, technically the Ronin, but potato, po-tah-to. He''d have to remember to ask Seo about interior decorators or something, but whatever. Sparky was sprawled on the couch, his lanky frame almost swallowed by its cushions. The sight of his best friend looking so at ease in what was essentially Greg''s superhero lair brought a small, genuine smile to his face. In front of Sparky, several large bags of Chinese takeout stood on the coffee table, the smell of greasy, delicious MSG-laden goodness filling the air. Greg''s stomach grumbled, reminding him he hadn''t eaten since... when was it? Lunch? Yesterday? He grimaced. Fuck. Shaking off the thought, Greg focused on the task at hand. He wheeled in a large whiteboard covered with a tarp, the wheels squeaking slightly on the concrete floor. The sound seemed to echo in the vast space, making Greg wince. Note to self: get some sound absorption in here. Finally, he came to a stop with the thing in the usual place, settling in the very center of the room, both him and it just a few meters away from the couch. Greg stood beside it, still as a statue despite brimming with barely contained energy. His hand lingered on the tarp a moment longer than necessary, his knuckles whitening as he fought the urge to check his phone again. Sparky raised an eyebrow, somehow managing to look judgy even with his mouth full of chicken. "So, these the Boston guys?" His voice was dry, brow rising high as he looked over the covered board. He tossed a large chunk of orange chicken into his mouth with a flick of his wrist, chewing slowly and carefully. With a dramatic flick of his own wrist that even he had to admit felt a bit over-the-top, Greg yanked the tarp off the whiteboard. Gotta work on my reveal flourish. The board wobbled slightly before settling, revealing a complex web of photos, scribbled notes, and colored strings connecting different locations and faces. "Them''s the Boston guys," Greg confirmed, his expression terse, a half-smile that he couldn''t quite keep on his face. Sparky''s eyebrows somehow climbed even higher, the judgment practically radiating off him now. "You skipped school yesterday to set up for something that coulda been an email? Brah..." A flash of annoyance crossed Greg''s face, quicker than a shutter click, but he masked it with a laugh that sounded a bit too forced. The comment stung more than Greg wanted to admit, poking at something he wasn''t in the mood to examine too closely. He pushed it down, plastering on an even brighter grin that didn''t reach his eyes. "Yep! Didn''t feel like going, so I just... didn''t." He punctuated the statement with an exaggerated shrug, the words more defensive than he intended. "...Brah, that''s like, a mad unhealthy ''tude to have. You know that, yeah?" Sparky''s tone carried a hint of genuine concern beneath the snark, the forgotten orange chicken dangling precariously from his chopsticks. Ugh, not this again. Greg rolled his eyes heavenward before glancing back at his friend. "Well, well, well... Hola Se?or Pot, my old amigo. Fancy meeting you here." Greg''s retort came a little sharper than he intended, the humor not quite reaching his eyes. Sparky''s lips twitched, a reluctant half-grin spreading across his face as he conceded the point with a slight nod. "Touch¨¦, mi hermano. Touch¨¦." Satisfied, Greg rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the chaotic collage of intel decorating the whiteboard. Gotta check in with Seo, see how the big guy''s handling that power boost from yesterday morning. Well, more Joon and Wesley than Seo. Jonouchi¡­ Jonouchi''ll probably be fine, though. His brow furrowed as he considered the potential issues. It wasn''t just about watching for side effects, though those were definitely a concern. He doubted they were gonna have it as hard as Sparky or Theo, given they were still going through puberty and they got a much bigger boost; it was about keeping the men from getting too cocky, too high off the power. Gotta make sure this doesn''t go to their head, make him think they''re invincible or some shit. Greg''s frown deepened at the thought. Can''t let any of ''em start thinking they''re bulletproof. "So..." Sparky''s voice cut through Greg''s darkening thoughts, "we gonna get this party started or what, boss man? What''s the holdup?" Crap, spacing out again. Greg blinked, shaking off the memory before jabbing a thumb casually towards the warehouse entrance, eyes never leaving the whiteboard. "Him." Sparky followed the motion, freaky new hearing probably picking up the approaching footsteps that were audible enough for Greg to make out, at the very least. Curiosity flickered across his friend''s face as he watched the oversized metal doors expectantly. Instead of the big doors, the maintenance entrance to the side creaked open, revealing a pale, chubby face peeking in, blond hair barely hidden by a gray hoodie. "Uh... Hello?" Theo''s tentative greeting echoed in the cavernous space. "...el Diablo," Sparky muttered under his breath, clearly still not over the kid''s unintentional reenactment of a scene straight out of the Exorcist last week. Yeah, the whole ''black blood pouring out of every hole in his face'' thing? Mad unsettling. Greg huffed out a chuckle, the sound coming out more amused than he actually felt. Shaking it off, he waved the younger boy in with a grin that was only slightly forced. "Hey, Theo, come on in." The other boy walked in, pulling his hood down in one smooth motion. Huh, something''s different. Greg raised an eyebrow, lips pursing as his smile became a touch more genuine. "Did you... get a haircut?" Theo gave him a small smile in return, tilting his head slightly as he approached, giving Greg a better view of his godbrother''s new undercut. The shorter sides and back contrasted sharply with the longer top, the blond strands falling across his forehead in a stylish fringe. "I did." "And you kept the bangs?" Sparky chimed in, dropping his chopsticks into the carton of Chinese food with a clatter. He turned to face Theo, eyebrows climbing as he took in the new look. "I mean¡­ definitely a choice. Bold, I guess. I''m all for emo, but it does not work with the blond curtains, chief." Theo glanced over at Sparky, burnished silver eyes meeting bright gold. His smile shifted subtly, a hint of something creeping in, but didn''t fade. "Hello, Axel." Sparky''s expression darkened, smirk morphing into a scowl. "It''s Sparky," he ground out, annoyance clear in his tone. Theo walked over to the couch and sat down, his placid smile still firmly in place. "Axel." Oh boy, here we go again. Before Sparky could fire back, Greg cut in with an exaggerated clap of his hands, drawing out the word, "Anywaaaaaay..." Both his best friend and godbrother turned their attention to him. Greg clapped again, nodding slowly as he surveyed them both. "So... you might be wondering why I gathered you here today..." "Nah," Sparky said, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back into the couch cushions. "Figured it was same old, same old." Theo shook his head, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. "I''m not aware of any ''same old.'' You were frustratingly vague on the phone, Greg." "Was I?" Greg snapped his arm out, pointing a finger at Theo accusingly. "Or do you just lack the insight to parse my words, young padawan? Maybe the student has much to learn, hmm?" Theo blinked, silver eyes unperturbed by Greg''s theatrics. "No. You were deliberately obtuse. Almost infuriatingly so." Heh, it was fun though. Greg lowered his arm with a shrug and a noncommittal "meh" sound. "Also," Theo continued, raising a finger as his gaze roamed the warehouse interior, taking in the eclectic mix of training equipment, computer setups, and random detritus that littered the space, "whose building is this, exactly?" Greg quirked an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. "Mine." Theo blinked again, a hint of surprise flickering across his stoic rounded features. "Yours?" Sparky shot him a look, chopsticks pausing halfway to his mouth. "Try to keep up, ''T-Dog'', he shot at Theo, mockingly using Greg''s nickname. "He just said it''s his. What, you need it in writing or something?" Theo side-eyed the olive-skinned boy to his left on the couch, but remained silent. Greg grinned, the expression feeling a bit brittle on his face as he spread his arms wide. "C''mon, man. You''re on PHO. You saw the mask in the bathroom. You know my whole deal by now. I''m not exactly subtle about it." Theo nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. "It belongs to the ABB." Greg''s fake smile slipped for a moment before returning, a shade darker. His blue irises narrowed slightly, the sensation something Greg had gotten used to feeling even as he tried to dial it back. "No. There is no more ABB," he said the words with a hint of steel. "There''s a group called the Ronin now, and it belongs to me. Along with everyone and everything in it, including this building." Sparky glanced over at Greg, shoveling more orange chicken into his mouth. "Oh, you finally changed the name, huh?" he asked around a mouthful of food, seemingly unfazed by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Bout time, brah. ABB was getting a little stale, don''t you think?" "Yeah, we''re the Ronin now," Greg confirmed, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "New name, new era, new management." "Cool," Sparky said around a mouthful of food. "Just FYI, you got mad creepy for a sec there." "Thanks, S-Money," Greg answered back, tone dry. "Anytime, G-Man." Sparky gave him a lazy salute with his chopsticks before diving back into his food. Greg turned back to Theo. "But yeah, I''m a hero. I''m also a gang lord. And a gamer. I have layers, y''know." Theo''s voice was laced with subtle sarcasm, one eyebrow lifting. "My mistake. You''re right, I must lack insight. Please, enlighten me with your wisdom, o great one." Greg laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Growth! I love to see it. Stick with me, young grasshopper, and you too shall learn the ways of the Greg." He spun to face the whiteboard, eyes locking onto the three images at the top, all humor fading from his expression. "Anyway, I called you here because I got word that the Boston group officially made landfall in the Bay last night. And that, my friends, is a problem." Theo chimed in again, a hint of confusion in his tone. "Boston group?" Greg gestured lazily with two fingers, not turning around. "Sparky, give him the rundown." "The SparkNotes?" his friend asked. " The SparkNotes." Greg heard Sparky shift on the couch, speaking between bites of Chinese food. "Right, so, there''s these gangs trying to muscle in on the Bay ''cause they think the ABB''s weak now that Greg murdered Lung." "Not. Dead," Greg corrected, still not looking back. "Yeah, whatever. Since Greg beat Lung. Anyway, you got the Sky Dragons¡ª" "Flying Dragons," Greg interjected. Sparky swallowed audibly. "Flying Dragons, right. They rolled in from New York. Got a bunch of freaky monster capes on their roster, and they roll almost as deep as the Empire. Same deal with the Boston crew. What''re they called again, G-Man?" Greg''s eyes flicked up to the words scrawled in red marker on a strip of black tape above the three photos. "The Sky Triad." "Yeah, them," Sparky continued, waving a hand dismissively. "Greg wants us to get the 411 on these guys, so if they start stirring up trouble, we know who''s who and what''s what." Theo raised an eyebrow. "Succinct." Sparky grinned, a hint of smugness tugging at his lips. "I try." "Anyyywaaaaaayyyy," Greg drawled for the third time, still facing the whiteboard. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his mind kept drifting, thoughts pulled towards things he''d rather not dwell on. Not now, not ever. "Sky Triad... some crazy fucks in our city, potentially about to raise hell a-" "Hold up," Sparky cut in, frowning. "Potentially about to? That don''t sound right, brah." Greg blinked, raking his fingers through his hair. "What?" "Potentially about to¡­" the olive-skinned boy repeated. "You''re off somewhere. It''s like saying irregardless or some shit." Theo nodded, a rare show of agreement. "He''s right." "I am?" Sparky glanced to his right, eyebrows climbing. The chubby blond boy nodded again, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "Potentially already suggests something may happen, so adding ''about to'' doubles down on that uncertainty for no reason. It''s not technically wrong, or bad grammar¡­ just redundant." Greg stared at them both, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Are they seriously ganging up on me over grammar right now? "...we done with the English lesson?" "My bad, bro," Sparky said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Apologies," Theo offered, ducking his head slightly. Greg rolled his eyes, letting out a soft sigh through his nose. Focus, Veder. Head in the game. He turned back to the board, trying to shake off the lingering sense of... something that kept trying to pull his mouth into a frown. "As I was saying," he started again, "Sky Triad. Crazy fucks, about to raise hell in our city. Like the Dragons, they keep a tight crew. No more than a couple hundred guys, and they''ve been around for about the same amount of time." The blond spun around to face Sparky and Theo, blue eyes narrowing. "But unlike the Dragons, these guys aren''t about flash and spectacle. They''re more like psycho mercs. They do whatever the fuck they want, as long as it lines their pockets. That includes taking jobs, but never on their home turf. They always keep their heads down in Boston, and they sure as shit stayed out of Lung''s way whenever he poked his snout in their direction. Where the Dragons were Chinese, mostly, these guys¡­ Well, they''re Japanese. Which makes their name incredibly dumb because the triads originated from Chinese secret societies, and as far as Seo can tell, these ''Sky Triad'' assholes are Japanese, most of them former juvie kids that were born in the U.S." Greg frowned. "Probably some sort of weird statement, or whatever¡­" Greg turned back to the board, red marker in hand. He popped the cap off with his thumb, circling the three pictures at the top with quick, almost aggressive strokes. "And this," he said, stepping back and gesturing with the capped marker, "is the big boss man himself." All of them showed off the figure of a well-built man who was clearly Asian by his eyes, even if the lower part of his face was covered by a black mask. "Meet Inazuma. Early twenties¡­ suspected former juvenile delinquent." Sparky let out a low whistle, clicking his tongue appreciatively. "Damn, bro is fucking built. Like, anime protagonist levels of jacked." A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.Greg clicked his tongue and nodded, glancing at the pics. Inazuma was a big guy, standing at least six feet tall, and just yoked in a way that spoke of regular hours at the gym or straight-up power influence. His long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail that reached down almost to his waist, and his black urban tactical gear looked like something straight out of a Japanese streetwear catalog. Dude definitely has style, I''ll give him that. "Villain View tags him as a Hi-Blast, Lo-Brute, and a Mid-Swift," Greg said, tapping the first image. It showed Inazuma leaning casually against an alley wall, looking relaxed despite the chaos around him. "PRT officially classifies him as a Breaker with two states." Greg tapped the first image of the man, seemingly relaxed in an alley against a wall, "his normal state where he''s a high-level Blaster and a decent Brute who can spam explosive lightning bolts all day, and his second state," the marker in Greg''s hand shifted to the second picture, which showed Inazuma wreathed in crackling electricity, looking more like a god of lightning than a mere man, "where he gets a Striker power in the form of an explosive lightning rod ¡ª a rod made of lighting that explodes ¡ª that he can extend fuck knows how far and also, just walks on air and flash steps around." "Bullshit," Sparky breathed, eyes wide. "That''s so fucking broken, I can''t even. I want it." Greg snorted. "Of course you want that, Sparky," he added, holding up a finger, "It''s fuckin'' sick. Thing is though, he doesn''t seem to be able to stay in it for long. It seems to hurt him and fuck with his head. It makes his scars raw or something, I dunno." Theo tilted his head to the side, brow furrowing. "Psychological scars?" "No¡­" Greg paused for a moment, clicking his tongue. "I mean, maybe? Dude did get struck by lightning, so he''s probably got some trauma there, definite hang-ups. But I''m talking physical scars. Lichtenberg figures, y''know? He just covered ''em up with ink." "Man''s a fucking anime character," Sparky muttered, shaking his head. "So goddamn cool." "Yeah, yeah, OP plz nerf," Greg rolled his eyes, but he couldn''t quite suppress a grin. He turned his attention to the next set of polaroids, his smile fading. "Anyway, Inazuma''s left hand goes by the name Akuma. Tyler Smith, open cape¡­" His gaze roamed over the altered orange jumpsuit the guy wore, taking in the scorched and tattered edges. Juvie chic. "Triggered during a fire in his juvie. A fire he started, by the way, while trying to break out after causing a fucking riot. Because of course he did." Greg tapped the photo with the marker, his expression grim. "Powers-wise, we''re looking at a Breaker who sets himself on fire every time he hits something. Burns or disintegrates shit on contact. Real nasty fuckin'' psycho." Sparky frowned, leaning forward with a serious expression. "He got a body count?" "''Bout a dozen deep on record," Greg answered, his own brow furrowing as he studied Akuma''s pierced face and tattooed body, the inked skin seeming to flicker and peel as flames licked up the cape''s arms. Can I absorb that fire? Is it even normal fire? He grimaced, mind racing with possibilities. "And that''s just what they can definitively trace back to him." Shifting his gaze to the images directly across from Akuma, Greg underlined the next name with a quick slash of his marker. "This here is Inazuma''s right hand. Goes by Abunai. It''s Japanese for ''dangerous'', and trust me, she lives up to the name." He drew several arrows around the pictures of an extremely attractive woman in a backless white-and-purple jumpsuit, white cloth wrappings around her chest, candy-bright purple hair, and a distinctive red fox-themed gas mask. "Breaker 4 with a decent Shaker rating and a low but tricky Mover rating. Long story short, she''s a gas girl. Turns into the stuff, two types specifically. Knockout gas and acid gas." Sparky nodded sagely. "So she''s like a Japanese Shadow Stalker, but also a human fart." Greg opened his mouth to argue, only to pause, head tilting thoughtfully. After a moment, he snapped his fingers and pointed at Sparky. "Y''know what? Yeah, actually." Theo leaned forward, silver eyes intent. "How acidic is the gas? The gas she becomes, I mean." Greg shrugged, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "Good question. It depends, apparently. The more acidic it gets, the slower she moves. If all she''s doing is making your eyes water, you might never even see her. Crazy hot, though." "Like, damn," Sparky agreed, gaze lingering on Abunai''s photos appreciatively. Greg tapped the next image on the board, positioned below the previous two. It showed a young man with a lean, wiry build wearing a white porcelain dog mask and baggy black jogger pants, a tanto gripped in his hand. "Next up, this guy. Goes by Ansatsu, another enforcer for the Triad. Mover 5, Brute 1, and his powers are some kind of teleporting or... maybe super speed? Honestly, it''s hard to tell." Theo raised an eyebrow. "You don''t know?" Greg shrugged again, frustration flickering across his face. "I don''t think anyone knows for sure. I''ve seen some online clips, and the dude just... flickers in place, and then ¡ª blink ¡ª he''s already across the street. He blurs from point to point and leaves this weird ripple effect behind him. But that''s pretty much all we''ve got on him." He paused, finger hovering over the next picture, a grey-skinned woman with sharp teeth. "Next enforcer is Mako..." The blond trailed off, frowning as he stared at the board. A creeping sense of disinterest settled over him, his earlier enthusiasm draining away. What''s the point of all this, anyway? He shook his head, letting his hand drop to his side. "Actually, can we talk about something else for a bit? Sparky raised an eyebrow, setting down his carton of orange chicken. "Uh, brah, this is your whole thing. Like, you''re the one running the show here." Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. I just..." Sparky''s expression shifted, concern replacing confusion. "What''s wrong, man?" Greg didn''t answer, his frown deepening as he stared at the floor. I can''t... I don''t want to think about it. About her. Theo stayed silent, watching the exchange with a carefully blank face. "Bro..." Sparky prompted, leaning forward intently. "Emma''s awake." Greg finally raised his head, blue eyes clouded. "She woke up yesterday." "What..." Greg sighed. "Yeah... my mom''s friend, she''s a nurse there. She called and told me." He watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across Sparky''s face ¡ª surprise, irritation, disgust, acceptance ¡ª before his friend schooled his features into a neutral mask, a forced smile appearing a beat later. "That''s... that''s amazing, dude." "Uh, who''s Emma?" Theo asked, a little confused. "My girlfriend. She''s been in a coma since the mess with Bakuda. She''s awake now, finally," Greg huffed out a bitter laugh. "Except her dad says she doesn''t want to talk to me." "Greg..." Sparky started, but Greg cut him off. "And her mom says she doesn''t want to talk to me." "G¡­" Greg shook his head. "And her sister said the same fucking thing." His fingers clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white. "I just don''t get it. I saved her. I fucking saved her life, I figured out how to wake her up, I spent so much time and energy and... she doesn''t want to see me." His voice cracked on the last word, raw pain leaking through. "I just... I don''t understand." Theo suddenly interrupted, speaking rapidly with an oddly stilted cadence, as if unsure of his own words. "Do you know we literally have magic?" Sparky blinked. "Huh?" What? Greg sighed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I mean... duh, c''mon, man..." Theo pressed on, his tone slightly forced. "No, I mean, I have magic." "Double duh," Greg said, waving a hand dismissively. "You showed me the metal thing, remember?" Theo nodded, relaxing slightly as he found his rhythm. "But that metal thing, I can do it with fire, water, air. I think I even figured out telekinesis." He gestured towards Sparky''s chopsticks, a faint translucent ripple surrounding them as they floated into the air. Despite himself, Greg felt a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Cool, mage hand!" "Yeah, metal and earth are just easier for me," Theo explained. "And way less... expensive, I guess? I can control the elements, but not create them. Even though I feel like I should be able to. I tried, but it almost made me pass out. I think I can figure out a workaround, though. Like a cheat code, or a macro..." "Like spells?" Greg suggested, his smile widening a fraction. Theo blinked. "What?" "You called it magic, but you''re really just talking about dynakinesis right now. Have you tried making actual ''spells''?" Theo fell silent, staring at his palm as Greg and Sparky watched him intently. The chunky third teenager kept focusing, his attention seemingly zeroed in on his hand and nothing else, eyes somehow distant but focused, the silver flashing noticeably at irregular intervals. Sparky looked over at a suddenly frowning Greg, the boy''s arms crossed as Theo''s hasty attempt to distract him and change the subject went by the wayside, Greg''s own question a more effective tool for that. The long-haired boy shook his head. "Look, Greg, there''s other fish in the sea¡­" Greg snorted, a slight laugh escaping his lips as he gave Sparky a look that wasn''t very humorous. "Yeah, and the sun will rise tomorrow. Anything else?" Sparky shrugged. "What about Locker Girl?" The blond let out a burst of laughter. "What?" What? Greg couldn''t help how funny he found that, Sparky''s irritation with Taylor Hebert something he made clear before. "Y''know," The other boy shrugged listlessly. "Her¡­ Tara or whatever." Greg kept laughing, the sound echoing through the warehouse''s cavernous space. He barely managed to rein it in, even as Sparky slowly stood up from the couch, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Theo watched him with calm, slightly narrowed eyes, as he focused on Greg''s unexpected outburst. What the fuck is wrong with me? Greg wasn''t sure what was so funny. In fact, he was pretty damn certain that nothing about this situation was amusing at all. He just... needed to get the sound out. Needed to fill the silence with something, even if it was borderline hysterical laughter. "Greg." Sparky''s voice cut through the noise, his golden gaze a little worried. Greg tamped down on the laughter, forcing it away with a cough that sounded more like a choke. "I-I''m sorry, I... I don''t know why, I''m just not having a good week." Understatement of the fucking century, Veder. Sparky took a step forward, concern etched across his face. "I can tell, bro. But c''mon, where''s that classic G-Man smile at?" Greg grimaced, shooting his friend a dark look. "What, you think I smile all the time ''cause I''m just so fucking happy? That I don''t have bad days, that I don''t feel like shit sometimes?" "No, but¡ª" Sparky flinched. "I''m not saying it''s all an act," Greg interrupted, frustration bleeding into his tone. "I''m a happy guy, and I like my life. I really do. But I smile because I have to. I have to stay in a good mood, because otherwise... otherwise things just get worse." And I can''t afford for things to get worse. Not now, not ever. Sparky''s expression softened. "Yeah, bro. I know..." Greg threw his hands up, agitation vibrating through his frame. "No, you fuckin'' don''t, Axel." Sparky stared at him silently, golden eyes firm and unblinking. Greg sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "No, you... you kinda fucking do." He shook his head, shame creeping in. "I''m sorry. I''m sorry, that was rude of me. Really rude. You almost died, and you weren''t ready for that shit." The other boy flinched again, expression going grim. "To die? Nah, I don''t think anybody kinda is." "Yeah, well... You get used to it." Greg''s voice was bitter, edged with something dark and painful. "Do you?" Sparky asked softly. "I do. It''s happened enough. Fuck it, maybe if I lose an arm, I''ll take a week off or something. I got turned into hamburger and was still fucking trucking," Greg bristled, anger and hurt warring in his chest. "I got my guts blown out of my chest two nights ago. I had my face cracked open in a back alley and I still made them suffer for it." Sparky''s eyes went wide. "What the fuck, brah? When did this happen?" "I just said two nights ago," Greg shot his friend a look, before shaking his head. The golden-eyed boy blinked. "Bu-" "But I don''t give a shit about any of that," Greg continued, all the words spilling out of him in a rush, "because all my effort was basically fucking worthless. The person I was trying to do it for fucking hates my guts, and I don''t even know why." The warehouse was silent for a few seconds, all three boys holding their tongues as Greg glared furiously off into the distance. Finally, Sparky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Wow... Wooooow." "What?" Greg snapped, defensive. "C''mon, man. ''The one I fucking did it for''?" He shook his head again, shooting Greg a look that screamed ''what the fuck are you talking about?'' "C''mon, don''t be a whiny bitch right now, okay?" The blond stared back at him. "..." Sparky rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he did so. "You''re just being emo for no reason, ''cause you''re sad. You didn''t do this for some redhead who made the blood rush outta your head. You did it because you wanted to be a fucking hero, dumbass." Greg glanced down, uncertainty warring with the anger still simmering in his gut. "...What if I did it ''cause I just want to hit something?" What if that''s all I''m good for? Sparky shrugged, unfazed. "Then go fuckin'' hit something, brah. Just stop being a pussy about it." "Flamme." Theo finally spoke, breaking the tension, his voice ringing out soft but clear, almost reverberating physically through the warehouse. Both Theo and Sparky turned, blue and gold widening as the chubby boy finally raised his gaze to look at them, his face sweaty from exertion. A small flicker of fire, no larger than a lighter''s flame, sat in the center of Theo''s pale hand, flickering to life in front of their eyes. Sparky''s eyes widened. "What the fuck?" Greg just laughed, loud and genuine, the sound startling in the quiet of the warehouse. "I know you did this to distract me, Theo, but I don''t even care. This is fucking sick!" As if on cue, a phone began to ring, cutting off Greg''s laughter before it could get manic again. Greg blinked, digging into his pocket and pulling out a battered blue clamshell. Flipping it open, he answered the phone with a curt, "Blue Eyes White Dragon." The warehouse fell silent as Greg listened, his expression shifting from a slight frown to something almost approaching a grin. After a few seconds, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket, striding past the couch towards the door. "I''m going out. You guys can lock up behind yourselves." Theo and Sparky exchanged a glance before turning back to Greg. "Where you goin''?" Sparky asked, an eyebrow raised. Greg grinned wide, a savage edge to the look on his face. "To go fuckin'' hit something." The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the space. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Theo glanced sideways at Sparky, breaking the silence that had settled over them. "...Is this sort of thing a regular occurrence?" Sparky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "...Kinda, yeah." Grief 7.6 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The call had come at the perfect time. Greg needed a distraction, and this? This was a golden opportunity served up on a silver platter. His body was a crimson blur as he raced across rooftops, leaping from building to building like a hyperactive kid skipping stairs; two, three, four at a time. The wind whipped against his helmet, tugging at his costume as he moved with inhuman speed and agility. Seo''s intel had been tantalizing ¡ª a boat sneaking into the Docks South under the cover of darkness, silent as a ghost despite reports of it moving at a breakneck pace. Suspicious as fuck, Greg mused, a smirk tugging at his lips beneath the red helmet. Gotta be a weapons drop. Why else go through all that trouble to keep quiet? One lookout claimed he''d seen the water churning violently in front of the vessel as it maneuvered into port. That little detail set off alarm bells in Greg''s head, pieces clicking into place like a puzzle. Oh hell yes. Please let me be right about this. In full Hardkour regalia, Greg launched himself through the air with a whoop of exhilaration, landing on the side of a towering smokestack in a perfect crouch as he leaned forward. Blue eyes narrowed behind white lenses as he surveyed the Docks from his vantage point, the gloom of night no obstacle for his enhanced vision. It didn''t take long for him to spot the target It was a scrappy, small fishing boat, probably a couple decades old. It had a weathered look to it with faded paint and some rust showing where maintenance has been slipping, compact enough to not draw too much attention too. It was the kind of boat that looked more at home among local fishermen than in a smuggler''s fleet, which was exactly the point; the perfect kind of vessel that would go ignored in Brockton Bay. Can''t say these guys didn''t do their homework, Greg thought with a smirk. The men offloading crates from the boat worked with brisk efficiency, even as they visibly strained under the weight of their cargo. Greg watched them with a critical eye, head cocked to the side. Something''s off here. No way a cape-led gang is gonna let a weapons shipment into new territory without some serious muscle on deck... His gaze flicked from figure to figure, brow furrowing as he tried to pinpoint the source of his unease. C''mon, Veder, think! Boat with no engine noise, big mystery boxes... Where''s the catch? Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. Fucking duh! They wouldn''t leave the goods unguarded. His head swiveled, searching the docks with renewed intensity. If I were a smuggler, where would I... Bingo! There, perched atop a towering stack of crates, was a woman. Even from a distance, she was striking. Leathery blue-gray skin and bluish-white hair stood out in stark contrast to the dingy surroundings and Greg caught a glimpse of gills on her neck and shark-like fins protruding from her forearms and calves. She was dressed for action in a navy sports bra and bike shorts, every inch of exposed flesh screaming "dangerous". Analyze.
Shark and Awe HP: 745/745 Trait: Selachian Morphogenesis Dive into the terror that is Mako, the Sky Triad''s deep-sea demon turned street shark. Morphing into a formidable shark-humanoid, When the fight club floods didn''t drown her, they awakened a predator tough enough to shrug off bullets and throw cars. In water or on land, you''re in her world now, and it''s filled with teeth.
Shark in the Water The Sky Triad thinks they''re slick, sneaking weapons into Brockton Bay by sea under the watchful eye of their shark-inspired enforcer. Let''s make waves and give them a lesson they won''t forget. Objective(s):
  • Defeat Mako
  • Disrupt the Sky Triad''s weapons transfer.
Success: 10000 XP, $25000, + 2 Perk Points, + 4 Stat Points, Perk: Hydrophile
Yeah, let''s teach the Triad a lesson. Hardkour''s lips curled into a savage grin, adrenaline already coursing through his veins at the prospect of a fight. He leapt off the smokestack, mouth wide open as he screamed at the top of his lungs. "MAKOOOOOOO!" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? She sat perched on a weather-worn crate stacked atop three others, her muscular figure outlined against the rapidly dimming sky. The usual stench of the harbor mingled with a sharper, tangier scent of salt and rust ¡ª a smell that reminded her of home, of the docks she used to prowl back in Southie. Fuckin'' easy job, this one, she thought, her lip curling. Boss ''Zuma had been pretty damn clear on what she had to do. Take the stupid boat with the dumb guns and swim it over to Brockton Bay, makin'' sure no one saw or heard the shipment come in. Simple as shit. And yeah, it was simple. But it was also boring as all fuck. Mari Ortiz ¡ª Mako to anyone who wanted to keep breathin'' ¡ª wasn''t built for sittin'' still or playin'' supervisor. It just wasn''t in her nature to be idle for too long, not with the itch under her skin, the restless energy that came from bein'' what she was. Her sharp, shark-like teeth clenched tight, the only outward sign of her growin'' impatience. The boat she''d dragged, a nondescript piece of shit loaded down with crates of firearms, was nearly empty now. She''d swum it all the way from Newburyport, her fins slicing through the Atlantic like a hot knife through butter. A stealth op, ''Zuma called it ¡ª no lights, no noise, nothin'' to give ''em away. And it fuckin'' worked, didn''t it? Mako thought, her scowl deepening. Dull as my great-aunt''s tits, but successful. The docks bustled with the low hum of men at work, their grunts and curses punctuating the night as they unloaded crate after crate. Rifles, ammo, whatever the fuck else Inazuma had ordered. Mako''s role was simple: a glorified babysitter for cargo that couldn''t shoot back. A job that ''Zuma swore was critical, but had all the excitement of watchin'' paint dry. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue-gray in the dim light, scanned the operation with a listless gaze. The men handlin'' the crates were struggling, their efforts pathetic to her enhanced senses. She could hear every strained breath, every muttered "fuck" as they hauled the heavy boxes. They kept their distance, though. Knew better than to ask for help, didn''t they? Mako snorted at the thought, her pointed teeth glinting under the weak dock lights. As if I''m here to play mover for these pissants. Nah, she was here to ensure no one interfered. Cop, cape, or any other dumb cunt¡­ Didn''t stop the side-eye, though. She could feel their wary glances, the unease radiating off ''em like cheap cologne. Scared of the shark girl, ain''t ya? Fuckin'' smart. "Fuck this," Mako muttered, her voice a low rumble in her throat. Her clawed fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against her muscular thighs, faint scars crisscrossing her arms and legs. She wasn''t made for this shit. She was made for the thrill of the hunt, the rush of the fight. For blood in the water and bones snappin'' under her hands. She scoffed as she watched one of the men nearly drop a crate, the wood creaking in his clumsy grip. Useless fuck. If it were up to me, I''d throw you in the harbor. Chum the waters a bit, yeah? But ''Zuma had been clear: no waves, unless shit went sideways. Leaning back against a stack of empty crates, Mako crossed her arms, her clawed fingernails tapping against corded muscle. Could toss one of these boxes clear across the bay, I bet. Snap these assholes like twigs. She flexed, her lips curling into a vicious grin at the thought. "MAKOOOOOOO!" Mako barely had a moment to blink at the sound before the world turned upside down. One second she was sitting, the next - airborne. What the fu- KRNCH! The impact rattled her bones as she found herself embedded in the hood of a van. Metal crumpled around her like tinfoil, the shock of the hit momentarily stunning even her tough hide. Mako blinked hard, trying to clear the stars from her vision. Did I just get bitchslapped by a freight train? Around her, chaos erupted. Men dropped crates and scattered like schools of startled fish, some fumbling for weapons only to be swatted aside by a red blur. The sound of bodies hitting concrete mixed with panicked shouts and the crack of gunfire. Mako jerked herself free of the twisted metal, rolling her shoulders as a familiar rush of adrenaline surged through her system. The side of her face throbbed, a dull ache pulsing through her jaw. She worked it experimentally, feeling a tooth wobble. Gonna have to yank that out later, she thought, a raw thrill running through her at the idea for some reason. The blue of her skin deepened, hardening past her already leather-like toughness. Fins elongated, claws sharpened to razor points. Mako felt her blood singing, every nerve crackling with electricity. This - this was what she lived for. A savage grin split her face, rows of serrated teeth gleaming in the dim light. Mako rolled her shoulders again, feeling bones pop and muscles coil with barely contained power. A roar ripped from her throat, primal and hungry, at odds with the manic joy etched across her features. "NOW THAT''S A FUCKING PUNCH!" She shook her head, laughing through closed teeth. "Kick, actually." In front of her stood a blond fuck in all red motorcycle leather, down to some weird-looking helmet that looked like a mask too. Mako''s eyes narrowed, sizing him up like a shark eyeing its next meal. This little shit thinks he can take me? "Mako, right?" The blond asked, voice sounding definitely young. "The fuck?" Mako spat, her Boston accent thick with disbelief. "How fuckin'' old are you? What, ya mom let you out past curfew or somethin''?" A half-second later, she spat a mouthful of red to the ground and shook her head, grinning with bloodstained teeth. "Fuck it, don''t care. Age ain''t nothin'' but a number when I''m about to turn you into chum, kid." In another half-second, Mako covered several yards with explosive speed, throwing a hard right that could crumple steel. The air whistled as her fist cut through it, aimed straight for the kid''s face. But the little bastard was fast, ducking under her swing with a fluidity that made Mako''s blood boil with excitement. Oh, we got a live one here. "Missed me, shark bait," the kid taunted, his voice carrying a hint of cockiness that made Mako want to rip his throat out. "Oh, I''m just gettin'' warmed up, guppy," Mako growled, her body tensing like a coiled spring. The fight exploded into a frenzy of motion, a blur of red and blue-gray. Mako''s fists flew like pistons, each strike carrying enough force to shatter concrete. But the kid in the red costume was a goddamn acrobat, flipping and twisting out of the way, his movements almost too quick for Mako''s eyes to track. Slippery little fuck. They crashed through the docks, a whirlwind of destruction, wood splintering under their feet as they traded blows. Mako''s clawed hands dug into metal as she grabbed hold of a shipping container, muscles bulging as she hefted the massive thing overhead, veins popping with the strain. "Catch this, you little shit!" she roared, hurling it at her opponent with all her might, a primal scream tearing from her throat. The container sailed through the air, a makeshift missile, but the kid vaulted over it like it was nothing more than a fucking hurdle, a blur of red and black. "Thanks for the assist!" he called out, using the back of the container as a springboard to launch himself at Mako, leg extended in a flying kick that would''ve made Bruce Lee proud. Her eyes widened, a split second before a bright red boot connected with her face, the impact like a fucking sledgehammer. Mako stumbled back, the taste of blood flooding her mouth, metallic and familiar. Motherfucker! "Got me a second fuckin'' time!" she spat, the loose tooth finally coming free as a savage grin spread across her features, feral and hungry. "Now that''s what I''m talkin'' about!" They clashed again, hard and fast, trading blows at a blistering pace. Mako''s raw power met the kid''s insane agility, fists and feet colliding in a brutal dance, a symphony of violence. Each impact sent shockwaves through the air, the sound of their fight drowning out the panicked screams of the men fleeing the scene like the cowards they were. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Mako swung hard, a haymaker aimed right for the kid''s head, but he ducked under her arm like a fucking champ, retaliating with a rapid series of jabs to her ribs, each one precise, practiced, punishing. Fuck, he''s fast! She grunted, absorbing the hits, then lashed out with a knee, catching him in the gut and sending him skidding back, boots scraping against concrete. She pressed the advantage, charging forward with a roar that would''ve made a lion piss itself. The kid backflipped out of the way, a flashy move straight out of a kung fu flick, but Mako was ready this time. She lunged, hand snapping out to grab his ankle in mid-air, fingers digging in like steel traps. With a vicious twist, she slammed him into the ground, the impact enough to crush bone. The kid hit the concrete hard, the breath audibly knocked out of him, but he recovered fast, rolling out of the way as Mako''s fist came down like a fucking wrecking ball, pulverizing the spot where his head had been a heartbeat before. Slippery little fucker. Mako caught a glimpse of her reflection in a broken window as they fought¡ªher blue-gray skin was flushed with excitement, fins fully extended, eyes wild with bloodlust. She looked like a monster straight out of the depths, and she fucking loved it. The kid in red wasn''t looking so pristine anymore, though. His fancy leather was torn in places, revealing glimpses of body armor underneath, slick with sweat and blood. Tough little fucker, Mako thought, a mix of admiration and frustration rising in her chest, a growl building in her throat. What''s it gonna take to put you down? She surged forward again, a tidal wave of fury, but the kid was ready. He sidestepped her charge, hands flashing out in a move she recognized from her MMA days. Jeet Kune Do? You''ve gotta be fucking kidding¡ª Her thoughts cut off as his palm slammed into her chin, snapping her head back, stars exploding behind her eyes. Oh, it is fucking ON! Mako retaliated with a flurry of her own, fists flying in a brutal barrage, each punch backed by the force of a jackhammer. The kid weaved between them, fluid as water, retaliating with quick, sharp strikes to her pressure points, each one sending a jolt of pain through her body. Suddenly, there was a flash of blue light, and the kid was holding a fucking sword. "What the¡ª" Mako''s words were cut short as the blade sliced through the air, a whisper of steel and ozone, almost too fast to see. Pain exploded in her gut as the sword plunged in, the sensation shockingly cold, like ice in her veins. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Mako looked down, seeing the blade protruding from her stomach, blood seeping around it, dark against her skin, almost black in the dim light. But pain was an old friend, and rage was a hell of an anesthetic. Mako looked up, meeting the kid''s eyes through his mask, her lips curling into a bloody snarl. "That all you got?" Mako roared, grabbing the sword with one hand and swinging with the other. Her backfist connected with a satisfying crunch, sending the surprised kid flying towards the water, sword still buried in her gut. Ignoring the blade, Mako dove after him, hitting the water like a shark breaching for a kill. The second she was submerged, she felt alive in a whole new way. This was her domain now. She circled him like the apex predator she was, powerful legs and fins propelling her through the water at incredible speeds. The kid struggled to orient himself, clearly out of his element and surprised by the hit Amateur hour, bitch. Let me show you how it''s done. Mako struck like a torpedo, hitting him at fifty-five miles an hour¡ªher full underwater speed. She tackled him with bone-crushing force, the impact resonating through the water. Again and again, she slammed into him, using the water to amplify her already insane strength, pummeling him from every angle. She got behind him, jaws clamping down on his neck. Her razor-sharp teeth sank into his suit, puncturing kevlar and tasting blood. Gotcha now, you slippery little¡ª Suddenly, Mako''s world exploded into agony. Every nerve in her body was on fire, muscles seizing as electricity coursed through her. She screamed underwater, bubbles erupting from her mouth. What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK?! Through the haze of pain, she felt herself being dragged back to shore, body twitching and convulsing uncontrollably. Mako hit the docks hard, gasping and sputtering, the sword still embedded in her gut. How... how the fuck did he... Her brain worked frantically, trying to process what just happened. Adrenaline and pain warred with higher functions as she struggled to remember why this fucking kid was so familiar. It hit her then, the realization slamming into her like the electricity that just fried her nerves. A rough, disbelieving laugh tore from her throat, the sound more like a beast''s snarl. ''Zuma had warned them about this one, back when they were planning this whole shit-show op. The red costume, the crazy powers, the fucking attitude... "H-Hardkour, right?" Mako managed to rasp out, voice raw and shaky. "You''re the one... ''Zuma said to watch out for..." The teenage cape loomed over her, a red and black shadow against the city lights as he pulled his sword free from her gut, Mako letting out a groaning wheeze as it came loose. In another flash of blue, it vanished to nowhere, leaving his hands free. Cool trick. He raised his foot, the sole of his boot hovering above her blood-streaked face. She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke, the words dripping with cocky triumph. "That''s my name," Hardkour confirmed smugly. "Remember it." His boot came down, and Mako knew only darkness. "..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
+ 1 VIT Resistance: Blunt Lv Up! + 2 VIT + 1 STR + 1 STR Resistance: Pierce Lv Up! Resistance: Shock Lv Up! Electro Lvl Up! Beginner Combat Lvl Up x 6 (30) + 1 VIT
Shark in the Water The Sky Triad thinks they''re slick, sneaking weapons into Brockton Bay by sea under the watchful eye of their shark-inspired enforcer. Let''s make waves and give them a lesson they won''t forget. Objective(s):
  • Defeat Mako
  • Disrupt the Sky Triad''s weapons transfer.
+ $25000 + 2 Perk Points + 4 Stat Points Perk Gained: Hydrophile Hydrophile Swim or sink.- 50% water resistance
+ 5 Stat Points + 1 Perk Point
He snickered to himself, the sound a touch manic. Definitely can''t talk. Greg let out a pained groan as he rolled his shoulders, feeling his battered body already starting to knit itself back together. Gotta love that healing factor. His gaze drifted to the scattered crates littering the docks, a good chunk of them broken and shattered, several already lost to the dark waters below. What a waste. He glanced back at the trawler, most of the illicit cargo still stacked haphazardly on the deck of the medium-sized fishing vessel. Time to get to work. Fire sparked to life in Greg''s gloved palms, the flames crackling with power and ready to be set free. With a wind up a pitcher would be proud of, he hurled them forward, one after the other, twin fireballs streaking through the air like comets. The roiling spheres of flame hit the ship''s deck with a crackling whoosh, igniting instantly on impact. Fire erupted like a ravenous beast let off its leash, devouring the wooden fixtures and metal surfaces with equal fervor. The flames spread unnaturally fast¡ªtoo fast¡ªtheir searing heat warping the air above and causing the metal parts of the trawler to groan and shriek in protest. Tongues of fire licked hungrily across the rusted deck, seeking out the crates of ammunition and rifles so carelessly stacked. As the heat intensified, gunpowder and oil-soaked rags began to catch, flaring up with bright, violent flashes as smaller explosions rippled through the vessel. Thick, choking smoke billowed upwards, rising into the night sky in a swirling, dark cloud that blotted out the horizon. Ammunition belts, already heated to critical temperatures, started to pop like over-enthusiastic popcorn kernels. At first, it was just sporadic cracks, like someone popping bubble wrap. Then, bam! The larger caliber rounds began to cook off in unpredictable bursts, sending stray bullets ricocheting wildly across the deck and into the churning water. The whiz of bullets splitting the air was quickly drowned out by the escalating roar of the inferno consuming the ship. Below deck, the situation was even more dire. The fire had found its way into the storage room¡ªa tight space packed to the brim with crates of firearms and a stockpile of explosives meant for sale or sabotage. As the heat reached the munitions, the trawler vibrated for a split second before a deafening boom rocked the entire vessel. The explosion punched through the hull like a fist through wet tissue paper, sending jagged splinters of metal and wood flying into the ocean, creating geysers of water around the now-crippled ship. Parts of the boat collapsed inward as the flames clawed at every surface, the remaining fuel tanks bursting into violent sprays of fire that only served to feed the blaze. The air stank of burnt oil, charred metal, and spent gunpowder, a gross mix that made Greg''s eyes water even from a distance. The ship''s engine room was the next to go, fire consuming the last of the oxygen in the lower decks and cooking the diesel tanks until they, too, detonated with a savage explosion that nearly split the ship in half. The trawler began to list heavily to one side, its frame creaking and groaning in protest as the flames consumed it from the inside out, reducing the hull to little more than a molten skeleton. The water, now thick with oil and ash, caught some of the fire as well, creating eerie pools of flame that danced on the surface of the waves like will-o''-the-wisps. Amidst the chaos, the guns¡ªboth those unscathed by the immediate flames and those caught in the explosions¡ªwere flung into the sea as the vessel finally capsized. Some still fired off rounds as they hit the water, popping futilely beneath the surface before sinking into the dark depths. Greg watched it all with bright eyes, a manic grin stretched across his face. "...Sick," he breathed, the word equal parts awed and satisfied. Nothing quite like a good explosion. He turned around, the grin fading into a more serious expression. Now to get out of here before the cops and PRT show up to crash the party. But before that... Almost on autopilot, Greg summoned his phone from his inventory, something he did every few minutes when in costume and not actively engaged in a fight. Can''t afford another Sparky situation, he thought grimly, the memory of his friend''s close call still fresh in his mind. Gotta stay connected, just in case. If anyone needed to contact him, they wouldn''t have to wait long for a response. He glanced down at the device, unlocking it with a bloody finger and scowling slightly at the smear it left on the screen. Eh, whatever. Not like it''s the first time. He was about to dismiss the phone back into his inventory when a notification caught his eye, making him pause. PHO app? Greg tilted his head to the side, curiosity piqued. Who the hell is messaging me? Grief 7.7a
Grief 7.7a ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Taylor sat on a sofa, her legs tucked behind her as she stared at nothing in particular. Her mind was awhirl as usual, the metaphorical hamster wheel in her head turning relentlessly as she tried to reason her way through a problem that was going nowhere fast. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the Wards'' lounge, casting long shadows across the room''s mix of cozy and clinical decor. Like the plush sofas that looked jarringly out of place against the stark, functional walls of the headquarters. Another day in superhero central, Taylor thought wryly. She absently picked at a loose thread on her hoodie, her fingers tracing the worn fabric. It was an old comfort item, one she''d stubbornly refused to replace even after receiving the hush money from the PRT. Why bother? It''s not like new clothes would make me feel any less out of place here. That wasn''t to say she hadn''t bought plenty of new clothes, all that and makeup. The PRT apparently had plenty of staff that were focused on teaching the Protectorate''s female capes how to primp and pluck and prepare themselves for the camera, even without the help of a makeup team. Taylor was still getting used to it, and a month of practice hadn''t exactly made her a deft hand at it yet. She let out a slight sigh, exhaling the air through her nose. The soft, ambient light gave the room a warm glow, making it feel less institutional and more like a hybrid between a living room and an office. Taylor''s eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, its steady ticking a constant reminder of time passing. How long have I been sitting here? she wondered, realizing she''d lost track of the minutes... or was it hours? Probably better not to know. The pneumatic hiss of the lounge doors opening startled Taylor from her thoughts. She tensed instinctively, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. Old habits die hard, even in this supposed safe space. As she recognized the figure entering, her muscles relaxed, though a different kind of tension took its place. Great, just what I need right now. "Hey, Dean," she said, forcing a smile that didn''t quite reach her eyes. Taylor prided herself on her observational skills, but she knew Dean''s empathic abilities would see right through her facade. Not that it matters. He''d probably just think I''m being moody again. Still, old habits die hard. Normally, she would have called him Gallant, trying to stick to cape-code. But out of costume, Taylor preferred real names. More than anything, it felt more... genuine and grounding. Even after a month with the Wards, the concept of being a ''hero'' felt surreal. The only tangible aspects were the mountain of paperwork she had to file and the laundry list of regulations she had to memorize as a Ward. Who knew being a hero took so much bureaucracy? "Hey, Taylor," Dean replied, flashing a perfect white smile in her direction. It was almost perfectly measured to put her at ease, and Taylor couldn''t help but draw comparisons. It was so different from his smile ¨C no smarmy, aggravating cockiness that screamed how much better he thought he was. Stop it, she chided herself. You''re not there anymore. Dean settled onto another sofa at an angle to her, letting out a relieved sigh as he sank into the cushions. He glanced up at her again, his expression open and friendly. "What''s up?" Taylor shrugged, her curly hair falling forward to partially obscure her face. "Nothing much, y''know." Just the usual existential crisis, she added silently, her inner voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mmmm," Dean hummed, nodding. "Same here, same old stuff." They sat in silence for a bit, nearly half a minute of simple quiet that felt both comfortable and awkward to Taylor. She was still getting used to the idea of teammates, of people who genuinely seemed to care about her well-being. It''s weird, having people actually want to talk to me. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean let out another sigh, rolling his shoulders and glancing her way again. "You mind if I run something by you?" Taylor blinked, surprised. "Oh, uh... sure, yeah." What could he possibly need my input on? Dean smiled, the expression warm and reassuring. "Great. You know how I''m kinda second-in-command, right?" Taylor smiled back awkwardly, feeling a bit silly. "Kinda? Yeah, I do." Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Dean laughed, the sound genuine and lacking any hint of mockery. "Yeah, well, as second-in-command, I usually do regular check-ins with the team to see if everyone''s doing good, what they feel could be done better, what anyone might need, y''know, before running it by Carlos ¨C err, I mean, by Aegis." Taylor nodded, memories of her own check-in surfacing. "I remember mine, yeah." It was... actually pretty helpful, she admitted to herself. Dean was an effective number two, from what she''d seen, and he tried hard to make up for any shortcomings, real or perceived. Honestly, Carlos'' job would probably have been way harder without him. Dean seemed to meet everyone''s needs before they even realized it half the time ¡ª the other half, he knew when they needed to make the first move themselves before an issue could actually be solved. Taylor knew part of it had to do with his empathy power, but even still, no one could really complain about the way Dean used it. Except maybe me, right now. "Yeah, that was over a month ago, though," Dean said, giving her a warm look that made Taylor want to squirm. "And I was thinking that you might need a follow-up." Taylor felt a knot forming in her stomach. "No, I don''t... I don''t think so." Please, just let it go, she silently pleaded, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the loose thread on her hoodie. Dean nodded slowly, his smile turning concerned. "I get that, I do and I see where you''re coming from..." Taylor knew he probably did, which only made her feel more exposed. She hunched her shoulders slightly, trying to make herself smaller, as if she could physically shrink away from the uncomfortable truth of Dean''s words. He''s right, she thought, a bitter taste in her mouth. I have been out of it. "But I think so," Dean continued gently, his voice soft and understanding. "You''ve been out of it the last couple weeks, Taylor. It''s okay to admit that." Taylor gave a noncommittal shrug, avoiding eye contact. She focused on a spot on the wall just past Dean''s shoulder, counting the imperfections in the paint. "It''s okay to not be okay, you know," Dean said softly. "Sometimes talking helps more than we think." She hesitated, fidgeting with the zipper on her hoodie, the metal cool and smooth under her fingertips. The familiar motion was comforting, giving her hands something to do as her mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in a chaotic jumble. He''s just trying to help, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. But how can I explain something I barely understand myself? Taylor''s hand rose to tug at a strand of her curly hair, a nervous habit she''d never quite shaken. "It''s nothing... Well, maybe not nothing. Just old ghosts, I guess." She said the last few words with a sigh. Dean leaned forward slightly, his body language open and attentive. "Old ghosts?" Taylor took a deep breath, steeling herself. You can do this, she told herself, trying to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest. "I don''t know. It''s just... Greg just... seeing him, he just brought up a lot of things ¡ª things that I thought were behind me. But I guess they''re not. I guess they''re still inside me, still haunting me." The words tumbled out, each one feeling like a small weight lifted from her chest, a tiny bit of the pressure easing. Dean''s frown deepened, confusion flickering across his handsome features. "Greg?" Taylor turned to face him, blinking in surprise. "Oh¡­my bad," she mumbled, feeling a flush creep up her neck. Way to go, Taylor. Bringing up random people like he''s supposed to know who you''re talking about. It made sense that Dean didn''t remember Greg. He had only met him once, for a grand total of two minutes a few weeks ago at the fundraiser gala. And right after that brief encounter, the event had been crashed by those villains with the giant monster dogs, the ones she half-remembered from her first chaotic night out as a hero. Hellhound and her crew, Taylor recalled, the memory sending a shiver down her spine. Just another day in Brockton Bay, she thought dryly, a humorless smile tugging at her lips. "The blond guy from the gala," Taylor clarified, fidgeting with her sleeves. "The¡ª" She paused, searching for the right word. "I guess, the pretty boy." That''s new, she muttered under her breath, still processing that particular development, as well as the fact that Greg had apparently hit a growth spurt, now standing a good few inches taller than her. When did that happen? "The rude one," she added, louder. "Who called you guys ''kiddy heroes'' or something like that?" Recognition dawned on Dean''s face, his eyes widening slightly. "The angry one, yeah. I remember now." Taylor blinked again, caught off guard. "Angry?" She frowned, trying to recall the interaction. She really hadn''t gotten the impression that Greg was angry. Rude, definitely. Tactless, absolutely. But angry? Not unless I completely misread the situation, she thought, doubt creeping in. Did I miss something? "Yeah." Dean nodded, his expression thoughtful. "The guy''s holding a lot of anger inside. It''s like... it''s deep down, but it''s there. Like it''s wafting off him, like smoke from a hidden fire. I don''t even think he notices it himself." "Huh." Taylor filed that information away, adding it to the mental dossier she''d been unconsciously compiling on Greg Veder. Anger issues. Noted. It wasn''t what she expected, but it fit, in a strange way. Maybe that''s why he''s always so... intense. Dean''s voice softened, his tone gentle but firm. "Taylor, I know you don''t want to talk to me about this, and that''s okay. But it would help to talk to someone. Someone you trust, who won''t judge you...." Taylor sighed deeply, the sound coming from somewhere deep in her chest. "I guess. I just don''t want to drag anyone else into my mess, you know? It''s my problem, not theirs." "It''s not dragging anyone down if they''re willing to walk through it with you," Dean countered, his words filled with a quiet conviction. "That''s what friends do. They help carry each other''s burdens. Besides, there''s a reason people like therapy. Having someone that''s not tangled up in your personal life... It''s really helpful." "Is it?" Dean nodded. "Yeah, try someone you felt comfortable or safe with before¡­ Well, before us, I guess. Someone you can just unload everything onto." Taylor blinked slowly as she stared at Dean, the words resonating in her head. "Someone you can just unload onto..." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? May 29th, 2011 Taylor Hebert paced nervously atop a rooftop, frowning noticeably. The red and black of her outfit stood out starkly against the concrete expanse, her voluminous twin-tailed black hair fluttering slightly in the noon breeze. She couldn''t help but feel like a target, exposed against the gray backdrop of Brockton Bay''s skyline. She wasn''t sure why she was doing this. Scratch that. She knew why. She knew exactly why. The reasons tumbled through her mind like a swarm of agitated insects, each thought buzzing with its own anxiety. Taylor bit her lip, a habit she''d never quite shaken. Dean had given her the courage to just go ahead and get it over with, but now that she was here, doubt crept in like a chill down her spine. "This is stupid," she muttered under her breath, her words carried away by the wind. "What am I even doing here?" Taylor''s fingers fidgeted with the zipper of her PRT? approved Lady Bug purse, the first of many that were soon to be manufactured for the masses of little girls to accessorize just like their "favorite magical pretty young bug-themed heroine". The thought made her cringe inwardly. She''d never been one for frills and bows, and now here she was, a walking billboard for cutesy merchandising, pitching up her voice like she was right out of one of those Japanese cartoons. "Fuckin'' Glenn," she grumbled, remembering how the local Protectorate branch''s PR head had spun her debut into something straight out of a children''s show. Her team had warned her of how irritating the man would be, but Taylor had underestimated just how aggravating Chambers actually was. The memory of their first meeting still made her want to roll her eyes so hard they''d fall out of her head. Granted, it wasn''t entirely his fault. Her given name had been broadcasted all over the internet thanks to Uber & Leet''s camera drones that first night out and... Taylor shook her head, trying to dispel the memory. That night had been a mess, a jumble of adrenaline and fear and exhilaration. And then there was her association with White Knight. That same night was really what made the situation what it was. "A magical girl," Taylor scoffed, glancing down at her outfit. "Seriously?" She found herself asking the same question at least once a week looking at herself in the mirror. The red peacoat with its black polka dots felt more like a stage-costume than ever, a far cry from the practical, tactical outfit she''d initially imagined for herself. Even now, her voice was still pitched up, Taylor so used to doing so that it had pretty much become instinct anytime she was dressed in red. Thankfully, Glenn didn''t ask anything of her other than to pitch up her voice while in costume, no horrendous accent but... Taylor rolled her eyes at the memory of her official debut to the press. They''d had her rush on stage hidden behind a cloud of quickly dispersing ladybugs to sell the whole thing. It had been mortifying, like something out of a cheesy kids show intro. With a sigh, Taylor pulled out her phone from her purse, an alien object in her hands despite its necessity. Her phone. That was still really hard to get used to. If it wasn''t for the fact that the PRT required her to carry one of their devices, she wouldn''t even be touching it. The thing still felt awkward to hold. The black polka-dotted red case it came in, even more so. "Just another thing to get used to, I guess," Taylor muttered, her fingers hovering over the screen. She rotated through the apps on the device, spinning the navigator until she found the one she was looking for, the large "P" centered on the globe behind it. Parahumans Online. The forum where she''d arranged this meeting. Her finger hovered over it, wondering whether to send another message. No, he said he''d be here at three. Even still¡­ He''s late. Taylor glanced at the time display, anxiety knotting in her stomach. It was already a quarter after three, and here she was in full costume standing on top of a rooftop not too far from the heart of Downtown. "This was a mistake," Taylor whispered, hugging herself against a sudden chill. She barely felt comfortable doing this with her team by her side. Doing this now ¡ª she just felt exposed and, honestly, kind of silly. The area was too quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted from this height. It felt unnatural, like the calm before a storm. As the minutes ticked by, Taylor''s unease grew. She paced back and forth, her boots scuffing against the rooftop. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. "Where is he?" she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with frustration and a hint of fear. "Did he change his mind? Or is this some kind of trap?" Taylor''s mind raced through possibilities, each scenario more dire than the last. Was this all an elaborate setup? Had she walked right into an ambush? Her powers thrummed just beneath her skin, ready to call forth a swarm at a moment''s notice. But no, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. She was just being paranoid. Wasn''t she? The cold knot of isolation in her stomach tightened as she scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of movement. The city sprawled out before her, indifferent to her anxiety. Taylor wrapped her arms around herself, the chill in the air compounding her unease. "Where is h-" Taylor''s words died on her tongue as she felt a ladybug die behind her several feet back. Her eyes widened, a jolt of alarm shooting through her as its presence in her mind winked out instantly. Crap, what was that? You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Her eyes narrowed, muscles tensing as she whirled around and jumped back at the same time. The air around her erupted into a buzzing cloud of red and black, half a million ladybugs forming a defensive halo. Taylor''s heart raced, adrenaline pumping as she scanned the rooftop for threats. "Thou hast summoned me, from beyond the perilous clutches of the forums?" a voice boomed, clear and resonant as if speaking right into her ear. It was theatrically loud, like the speaker was right next to her instead of across the rooftop. Taylor''s eyes widened as she caught sight of who was speaking. Oh god, it''s him. "Oh¡­ I¡­" she stuttered, the words catching in her throat as she took in his appearance. The speaker stepped down off the ledge, his blue cape fluttering gently in the light breeze. The sun at his back framed him like a halo, making Taylor squint slightly. He changed his costume, she realized with a twinge of disappointment. She hadn''t known it until now, but she''d kind of liked the cobbled-together look of his previous outfit, down to the silver spray-painted armor. Even though it was clearly hand-made, it had still managed to look good on him. More than anything, it had made him seem more... real, somehow. Now, though, he wore a painted-white knight-inspired chestplate, with fancy gold detailing and a blue fleur-de-lis on the chest. A short blue cape draped over his shoulders, covering a padded blue long-sleeved shirt beneath. White gauntlets and padded white slacks with armored sections completed the whole look. It was definitely more impressive, Taylor had to admit. But it also made her guest look a lot less approachable. Kind of intimidating, even. He just¡­ looked less like a scrappy knight and more like a hero. Taylor wasn''t sure why that bothered her, why it was disappointing but she couldn''t shake the feeling that something had been lost in the upgrade. Maybe it''s just me being weird about change again, she thought, fidgeting slightly. Matching blue eyes stared at her calmly from behind a blue mask trimmed with gold, partially hidden by a blue hood. A shock of blond hair peeked out from underneath. "Mine journey over the bay hath brought me to thy presence, O Lady of Bugs, and I beseech thee once more¡ªhast thou summoned me?" Taylor blinked, her brain taking a second to process the flowery language. "Wha¡­?" she managed, before catching herself with a quick nod. Get it together, Taylor. "Oh, y-you''re doing a bit." "Yeah, I''m doing a bit," the other cape answered, his expression calm and unchanging as he somehow kept that same Old English accent going even as he slipped smoothly back into modern language. "I thought we were on the same page." His eyes flicked around, taking in her swarm. Taylor gaped a little bit, feeling more awkward than ever as the very last bit of her shock melted away. With a thought, her swarm quieted and fell away, the ladybugs she''d hidden atop the rooftop crawling back under the crevices. Better not look too aggressive, she thought. This is supposed to be friendly. Friendly as it was, she wasn''t planning on going into a meetup without some backup, after all. Half a million ladybugs and ladybug-lookalikes on the rooftop didn''t seem like much, but the many, many other bugs in her range were ready if needed. She technically wasn''t supposed to use them, but she was only strongly advised not to, not explicitly forbidden. "S-sorry, we are¡­ on the same page¡­ yeah." She hoped the red of her domino mask made the blush on her cheeks much less noticeable. God, I sound like an idiot. Pull it together! White Knight nodded, thrusting his arm out to the side with a single flourish of his cape. "''Tis well!" He spoke again, immediately going back into his old-timey wording. In a quick rippling flare of blue light, a flat box appeared on his outstretched palm, steam still rising from it. Even from a couple yards away, Taylor could smell the aroma of fresh pizza wafting strong her way. Her stomach growled quietly, reminding her that she''d skipped lunch to get here on time.. Sir Prodigy smiled at her, the look making her stomach do something that wasn''t a growl. "Art thou inclined to partake in some baked, doughy fare?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Taylor bit down on the still-fresh slice of pizza, the pepperoni, sausage, onions, peppers and other toppings along with the dripping cheese exploding with taste in her mouth. "Mmmm¡­" She couldn''t help the sound that escaped her. God, this is so good. Her legs kicked happily as she sat on the edge of the five-story building, the large pizza box between her and Sir Prodigy on the other side sharing it with her. The breeze up here was cool against her skin, carrying the faint salty scent of the bay mixed with the mouth-watering aroma of the pizza. It was nice, sitting up here away from everything. Almost peaceful. She opened her eyes as she chewed, to see Prodigy staring back at her, the knight-themed cape with a look on his face that sang of amusement, even with his face seeming perfectly calm as he took his own bite. His blue eyes sparkled with barely contained laughter behind his mask. Taylor reddened again, turning away from her lunch partner as she chewed and swallowed rather quickly, before glancing back. Great, now I look like a pig. "What? I missed lunch," she said defensively, trying not to fidget under his gaze. "I spoke not a word," the other cape answered, his voice carrying that exaggerated Old English accent. Taylor couldn''t tell if he was making fun of her or not. "Not out loud," Taylor shot back, surprising herself with her quick retort. Where did that come from? Sir Prodigy rolled his eyes, the action so at odds with his Shakespearean persona, it almost overshadowed Taylor''s shock at the way he almost inhaled the rest of his pizza, barely even chewing the thing before it vanished. "I was unaware the Lady of Bugs possessed the prodigious gift of mind reading," he said, now fully smiling with perfectly unstained teeth which just wasn''t fair. "Your enemies must tremble at your presence, their secrets laid bare," his smile brightened a little more as he glanced down toward the pizza box again. "You think you''re funny, don''t you," Taylor couldn''t help herself but blurt out. She immediately regretted it, worried she might have offended him. Smooth, Taylor. Real smooth. "I know mine wit is sharp;" he took a bite of another slice, chewing and swallowing so quickly Taylor found herself staring. "''Tis oft the other''s sense of humor that doth falter." Taylor snorted and took another bite of her pizza, surprised at how comfortable she felt. This¡­ is nice, she thought, then frowned. She''d only been at Arcadia High since school had started up after the bombing but she had yet to actually make any friends that weren''t the Wards and well¡­ the Wards might have been her new friends, but sometimes it kinda felt like they were more obligated to be her friends, so it didn''t really feel as sincere as it should have. Even Dean''s kindness came with the overhanging specter of one simple fact; he was literally her boss. Well, next in-line to be her boss. Not only that, but her boss who would be also be gone a few months after Aegis to be with the Protectorate. It just felt¡­ less real. And here I am, having pizza with a random cape on a rooftop. What even is my life? As she took another bite, her eyes caught on the intricate details of his armor¡ªthe gold accents shimmering slightly in the light, giving him an almost regal appearance. Definitely more hero than hapless knight now, she thought, still unsure how to feel about the change. The playful part of her wondered if the armor upgrade came with an increased ego or just better sponsorship deals. Maybe both? Sir Prodigy watched her examine his costume, misinterpreting her scrutiny. "I hath improved mine armor," he said, gesturing to his breastplate. "Greater protection, swifter movement, and, well, doth it not appear more striking?" Taylor nodded, her eyes flicking back up to meet his own. "It does look cool," she admitted. "Functional and flashy." She paused, lips pursed for a moment as she wondered whether to actually say what was on her mind. Should I tell him I liked the old one better? No, that''d be rude. "I must inquire," Thankfully, she didn''t have to talk just yet as the other cape chose to speak first. "How didst thou know ''twas I when thy sent the missive? There be many a false White Knight upon the forums." Quickly parsing what he said, Taylor responded with a smile. Finally, something I can answer without sounding like an idiot. "That''s pretty easy, honestly." "Pray tell," he said, leaning forward slightly, his interest apparently genuine. Taylor smiled, feeling a bit more confident. "You''re the oldest account that has the name ''Sir Prodigy'' with nothing else. All the fakers are focused on the name White Knight, like you said." "Most clever indeed, my good lady," he replied, nodding approvingly. Taylor felt a small spark of pride at the compliment. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to just go for it. "So... just as a heads up, you ever gonna give up the bit?" Sir Prodigy fixed her with a look, his expression mock-serious. "I have yet to use the word ''prithee'' in a sentence, so¡­" he paused for dramatic effect, "no." Taylor narrowed her eyes, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "You just did." Sir Prodigy narrowed his eyes right back at her. "Hey¡­ shaddup," he said, breaking character for just a moment. Taylor snorted loudly and started laughing, unable to help herself. "Fair enough," she managed between giggles. "So¡­" Taylor took a second to glance up again as he spoke, "What''s up, Lady Bug?" Taylor pursed her lips, shooting him a look as he slipped into modern lingo again. He''s doing that to mess with me, isn''t he? She looked him up and down, taking in his exaggerated posture and the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. His eyes sparkled with barely contained mischief behind his mask. Yeah, he definitely is. She smiled despite herself and shook her head. Two can play at this game. Sir Prodigy seemed to catch on to her amusement, quickly returning to his Old English: "There is a purpose to mine presence here. What might it be?" Taylor hesitated, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious. "¡­Don''t laugh, okay?" "What dost thou take me for? I would never," he replied, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. Taylor rolled her eyes, fighting back a grin. "Of course. Okay, don''t laugh¡­ I just wanted someone to talk to, you know? About stuff¡­" She trailed off, fidgeting with the edge of her costume. Sir Prodigy tilted his head, his voice softening slightly. "And I was thy choice?" "Don''t¡­ don''t say it like that," Taylor mumbled, feeling her face heat up. God, why did I even say anything? "I''m not, though. I mean it, I''m glad I was your first choice." He smiled at her, bright white teeth shining as he looked her in the eye. The sincerity in his voice caught Taylor off guard. Taylor felt her face redden even more. "I¡­" she started, then stopped, unsure what to say. Sir Prodigy continued, his resonant voice and accent still strong, but with an undercurrent of warmth. "If I''m being honest, I was happy you messaged me." Taylor looked down, fiddling with her fingers. Is he for real? "Really?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded. "A knight needs his lady," Sir Prodigy replied, his tone playful but not mocking. Taylor shot him a look, trying not to blush again. "Shaddup," she muttered, but there was no real heat behind it. "As you wish," he said with a slight bow. "So, pray, tell me¡ªwhat is this matter?" Taylor''s hands fidgeted with her pleated black-polka dot patterned red skirt. She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I''ve just been¡­ having issues ever since I joined the Wards." Sir Prodigy''s voice slipped into something more modern for a second, catching Taylor by surprise. "Yeah, changes can be a killer." "It''s not just the new job," Taylor said quickly, then paused. How do I even explain this? "It''s more like¡­ I met this guy who I used to know a little while ago." "Oh," Sir Prodigy said, his tone suddenly neutral. Taylor''s eyes widened as she realized how that sounded. She waved her hands frantically. "No, no, no, not like that. He was just some guy from school, but I¡­ I guess I realized I thought I knew who he was and then he''s just entirely different the next time I see him." Sir Prodigy seemed to consider this for a moment before replying, "Mayhap thou hast misjudged him; such things occur oft. Was he perchance a knave or some such?" Knave? Taylor blinked, frowning slightly. She rolled the unfamiliar word around in her head for a second before piecing together its meaning from context. She shook her head. "No, not a ''knave''. Or even a jerk, really. He was just kind of¡­ a little annoying, but not, like, bad. I just had some bad memories with people associated with him and I guess it made me treat him worse." Sir Prodigy leaned forward slightly, his voice thoughtful. "Then why dost thou not strive to resolve those matters with him?" Taylor blinked, taken aback by the direct question. "Because¡­ Well, I just¡­ I don''t know. It feels awkward." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The last time I met him before that, I kinda yelled at him, but now I''m pretty sure he was only trying to help, even though he didn''t really get what was going on. I was just overwhelmed at the time and¡­ well¡­ yeah." Sir Prodigy nodded, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Alas, I can only do so much. It is my opinion that a parley with this fellow would accomplish far m-" He paused as a beeping noise came from his pocket. Taylor watched as his demeanor shifted, his playful air giving way to something more businesslike. He held up a finger, looking apologetic for a moment as he dug a phone out of his pants pocket ¨C a red clamshell that looked almost comically out of place with his knightly attire. His face went serious as he flipped it open and raised it to his ear. "Speak," he said, his voice suddenly much deeper and commanding. Taylor flinched at the sudden drop in his tone, the sound seeming to come from all around her. Whoa, what was that? She watched as Sir Prodigy''s face became more serious, his jaw clenching as the person on the other side told him something that he clearly didn''t like. As the call came to an end, his expression slipped from grim to exasperated, a sigh escaping him. "Understood, on my way." Pocketing the bright red flip phone, Sir Prodigy gave her a slightly strained smile and stood up on the ledge. "Apologies, my lady. This good knight must depart. Perhaps, we can meet on the morrow?" Taylor couldn''t help but giggle at his quick return to the ''Old English''-speak as she stepped back onto the rooftop and away from the ledge, staring up at the White Knight. "Perhaps," she replied, mimicking his accent. "Fare thee well," Sir Prodigy said with a dramatic bow. Before Taylor could respond, there was a burst of wind that sent her hair flowing back. She covered her face, squinting against the sudden gust. When she lowered her arm, she saw White Knight taking to the air, gliding across the rooftops like a large white bird. Taylor stared after him, watching his back as he flew. Her smile grew a bit sadder as he disappeared from her sight, leaving her alone on the rooftop. The pizza box sat forgotten between them, a reminder of the unexpected connection they''d shared. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself as the cool evening air settled in. Part of her wished he could have stayed longer, but she understood. That''s what being a hero is about, I guess. Always on call. As she gathered herself to leave, Taylor''s eyes lingered on the spot where Sir Prodigy had been sitting. Despite the fancier new costume and the theatrical persona, there had been moments of real connection there. She couldn''t help but draw parallels to her situation with Greg. Maybe I should give him another chance, she thought, surprising herself. If Sir Prodigy can be both ridiculous and genuine, maybe there''s more to Greg than I realized. Taylor stood up, brushing off her costume and taking one last look at the city skyline. As she prepared to make her way home, a final thought crossed her mind: "...Honestly, I still like his old costume better." Grief 7.7b "That was kinda weird," Greg muttered to himself, running along the walls of a Downtown skyscraper, his arms thrown behind him as he moved at high speeds. The cool evening air whipped past his face, muffled by his helmet but still sharp enough to keep him alert. It had been. Undeniably. Lady Bug sending him that invitation on PHO had been¡­ also very weird. The memory of the message notification popping up on his phone still made him do a double-take. He honestly hadn''t believed it was the real Lady Bug yesterday, until Greg realized that she was also verified on PHO. Which then brought up the question¡­ Why is she talking to me? The thought buzzed in his head like an annoying fly, refusing to be swatted away. It had been almost two whole months since the one and only time they met, before he had unlocked Gram, before he had taken down Bakuda, before he had fought Lung for the first time¡­ The memories flashed through his mind in rapid succession, each one a snapshot of adrenaline and chaos. Jesus Christ, it''s only been two months, Greg pulled a face under his red helmet. Feels like way longer. He had been expecting many different things when he showed up. His mind had conjured up scenarios ranging from ambush to impromptu dance party. One of them had not been a simple hangout. The normality of it all had thrown him for a loop. Honestly, not even top five options on his mental list. Greg smirked to himself, amused by his own overthinking. It had been top ten, though. Funny enough, Lady Bug wanting to pour her heart out to him had actually been top three, but not like this. The reality had been far more... mundane? Was that the right word? Was I really just used for therapy? He knew it wasn''t that simple but the thought had made him frown at first on the inside, which was weeeeird. You have a gf, dude. Anyway, he might be kinda-sorta-friends with Lady Bug now ¡ª Greg had not been expecting that. Hell, it had been a whole month since he had last been Sir Prodigy ¡ª almost two since he and Lady Bug had last met. He didn''t think they were cool like that, for real. The idea that she might actually consider him a friend made something warm and unfamiliar stir in his chest. Guess I made a good impression, he smirked to himself, leaping off the edge of a rooftop. The ground rushed up to meet him, a dizzying swirl of concrete and asphalt that sent his heart racing. He was already in his Hardkour costume again, the red helmet snug around his head as he looked out at the world through his white double-sided lenses. It had taken an instant to switch outfits, Greg ducking behind a rooftop the second he was out of Lady Bug''s sight and transforming with a thought. Time to take care of business. He landed atop a six-story building, rolling to build off momentum, both his body and his padded motorcycle leathers absorbing the impact with practiced ease. The gravel of the rooftop crunched under his feet, tiny pebbles scattering in his wake. Greg sprang up and sprinted towards the edge as wind blew through his hair where it poked out of the top of his helmet, his pace quickly reaching at least sixty miles per hour. The world blurred around him, buildings and cars melting into a kaleidoscope of colors. He bounced up in a short leap, arms lunging out as he grabbed onto the side of a metal pole off the edge of the building. The cool metal bit into his gloved hands as he swung around it, letting go of it at the perfect moment as his momentum sent him hurtling at speed right towards another building. As soon as he landed, he ran vertically up the side, sticking to the wall with his Adhesion skill. Each step felt like defying gravity, a middle finger to Newtonian physics that never failed to make him grin. Greg dodged around rooftop obstacles like HVAC units and exposed pipes using fluid flips and spins. His body moved on instinct, years of video game parkour translated into real-world agility thanks to his powers. The call from Lee had been¡­ unexpected and more than a little bit frustrating. The memory of the conversation made his jaw clench, the playful energy of his run momentarily replaced by a spike of anger. Apparently, the Sky Triad was making noise again, not all that happy that Mako was in PRT custody thanks to him. So they had decided to raise hell by fucking with Ronin property off the Downtown Coast. Because they seemed to think that the best way to deal with their problems was to make them everyone else''s problems too. Trouble was, the old buildings they had been wrecking were occupied by a bunch of people that already had beef with both the Ronin and the Sky Triad. Three guesses who that would be, and if your first wasn''t the Flying Dragons? Greg almost felt his eye twitch behind his Hardkour mask. Because why the fuck not?
Turf Wars: Flames and the Fallen It''s like the worst of a bad horror and action movie mash-up on your doorstep. The Sky Triad and Flying Dragons have unleashed their respective heavy hitters ¡ª Akuma, a fire demon with a flair for murder, and Jiangshi, a killer zombie who''s all brawn. As they turn your turf into an action-packed, flaming nightmare, it''s up to you to strike back. Objective: Defeat Akuma and Jiangshi in a showdown on your territory. Bonus I: Prevent any civilian casualties during your clash. Bonus II: ??? Success: 40,000 XP, +10 VIT, Perk: Hard to Kill, +5 to [Pyrokinesis] Failure: Loss of ? of the Downtown Coast, Loss of respect with the Ronin
Greg growled at the thought of never having any peace in this fucking city. The lieutenants of both the Dragons and the Triad duking it out would have been perfectly fine by him if it wasn''t happening in his territory. He frowned. Well¡­ That wasn''t exactly true, but he would probably have been less pissed about it. Who am I kidding? I''d still be pissed. The thought of gangsters tearing up any part of his city made his blood boil. Greg approached a wide street gap, eyes narrowing behind his mask as he calculated the distance. With a burst of speed, he made a cat leap onto the taller building across. His fingers scraped against rough brick as he scrambled up quickly, moving with inhuman ease. In seconds, he was flipping up to the roof, the momentum carrying him into a smooth roll. This would be so much cooler with a soundtrack, he thought, imagining an epic orchestral piece accompanying his moves. The night air whipped past him, cool against the exposed skin at his neck. Spotting a narrow scaffolding, Greg grinned. Time for some Mario action. He used it as a makeshift tightrope, balancing perfectly while sprinting between rooftops. The metal creaked under his feet, but he paid it no mind. His focus was razor-sharp, every sense heightened by the thrill of movement. Reaching the end of the scaffolding, Greg launched himself towards a neighboring building. He used a burst of speed to bridge the distance, the gap between structures yawning beneath him. For a heart-stopping moment, he was airborne, nothing but open air between him and the street far below. He landed in a low crouch on the next roof, barely pausing before sprinting forward again. The impact sent a jolt through his legs, but his body absorbed it like it was nothing. Superhuman durability for the win. Greg jumped and rolled over a series of small air vents and other rooftop clutter, weaving through them with nimble footwork. It felt like a real-life video game obstacle course, each move flowing into the next with practiced ease. The worst part was he had actually been really enjoying hanging out with Buggy, even if he wasn''t as big of a fan of her new costume. Kinda liked the creepy look better, he mused. Made her seem more... I dunno, mysterious? The memory of their rooftop pizza date¡ªNo, not a date, idiot¡ªflashed through his mind. He bit his lip as he leapt up and used a billboard as a springboard, pushing off with his hands and vaulting high and far across to another building. The advertisement for some new action movie blurred past him, forgotten as soon as it was out of sight. But that would have been rude to say, he reminded himself. Plus, Emma would kill me if she thought I was critiquing another girl''s outfit. I think. Upon landing, Greg sprinted down a declining rooftop, gathering speed as he headed towards the outskirts of the commercial district. The slope added to his momentum, making him feel like he was flying. Buildings whizzed by in a kaleidoscope of concrete and glass. He navigated through a construction zone, using half-constructed walls and beams as a complex obstacle course. Maintaining speed and direction, he vaulted over stacks of lumber and ducked under hanging tarps. The smell of sawdust and fresh paint filled his nostrils. Greg leapt from the construction site to an apartment building, transitioning from the unfinished structure to an old fire escape. The metal clanged and rattled as he clattered down several flights swiftly. Hope nobody''s trying to sleep, he thought with a smirk. Spotting a water tower, he swung around it, using the momentum to pivot and change his trajectory toward a cluster of smaller buildings closer to the docks. The rusty metal groaned under his grip, but held firm. He made a series of rapid descents, jumping from building to building, decreasing in height as he neared street level. Each landing sent a small shock through his body, but the thrill of movement kept him going. Greg caught sight of a moving bus and grinned. Time for some Pro Skater shit. He ran alongside it for a moment before smoothly transitioning to its roof, using it to cover ground quickly without expending as much energy. The rumble of the bus''s movement vibrated through his body. After a few blocks, he dove off the tram, tucking into a tight ball and rolling into a narrow alley. He pushed off walls to maintain speed, ricocheting between brick surfaces like a human pinball. The confined space amplified the sound of his movements, echoing off the walls. Greg emerged from the alley onto a busier street, seamlessly blending into the crowd for a few moments to cross. He weaved between pedestrians, his movements so fluid that by the time most turned around, he was already out of sight. The noise of the city¡ªcar horns, snippets of conversation, distant sirens¡ªwashed over him. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. Re-entering a quieter area, he used parked cars and dumpsters as stepping stones to keep his feet off the ground and maintain a relentless pace. Each surface offered a different texture¡ªsmooth metal, gritty asphalt, slick plastic¡ªforcing him to constantly adjust his movements. As he approached the final stretch, Greg spotted the Docks in the distance. The salty air grew stronger with each step, filling his lungs with the unmistakable scent of the ocean. It mixed with the urban smells of exhaust and concrete, creating a uniquely Brockton Bay bouquet. He utilized the last few rooftops, making smaller, more calculated jumps as the buildings became more sporadic near the waterfront. The gaps between structures grew wider, requiring more precision and focus. For his final move, Greg executed a soaring leap from the edge of an old warehouse. He tucked his legs in as he flipped¡ªonce, twice, three times, four¡ªcovering a crazy distance before landing in a tucked roll on a deserted backstreet near the Docks. The impact sent a jolt through his body, but he absorbed it smoothly, coming up into a low crouch. His head moved on a swivel, scanning the area for any signs of the gang activity he''d been sent to investigate. The warehouse district loomed around him, full of shadows and potential hiding spots. "Now, where the fuck are these¡ª" A sound that could be nothing but an explosion ripped through the air, Greg flinching instinctively even as he spun around. The blast wave hit him like a wall, rattling his teeth and sending his heart racing. What the actual fuck? His eyes widened just in time to see a warehouse wall buckle and burst, concrete giving way as a blurry figure was launched through it at speed. Time seemed to slow as Greg''s enhanced senses kicked in, allowing him to take in every detail of the chaos unfolding before him. The wall crumbled like it was made of styrofoam, chunks of concrete and rebar flying outward in a deadly spray. Dust billowed out in a thick cloud, momentarily obscuring the figure hurtling through the air. Greg''s muscles tensed, his body reacting before his mind could fully process the danger. His eyes widened and he ducked low as rubble flew over his head and around him, a wave of heat flowing out. The heat washed over him, making his skin prickle beneath his costume. Too close for comfort, he thought, adrenaline surging through his system. Greg turned his head as the flying figure hurtled above his head, gray skin and black clothing barely visible amid the cloud of rubble careening alongside him. The person ¨C Cape? Greg''s mind supplied ¨C looked like a ragdoll tossed by a giant, limbs flailing as they soared past. The figure landed with enough force to crater the already pockmarked street as they struck it, their body skipping over the ground like a stone lazily flung by a giant. Each impact sent shockwaves through the pavement, cracks spiderwebbing out from the points of contact. Greg winced at the sound of bones crunching, but the figure kept moving. It slammed into a car at the other end of the street past him, the metal screeching like a banshee as it jackknifed around him. The vehicle folded like an accordion, wrapping around the person''s body in a twisted embrace of steel and glass. For a moment, everything was still, the only sound the settling of debris and the faint hiss of the car''s dying engine. Greg''s eyes widened slightly as the man wrapped in mangled metal spat out what could only have been a curse, pallid gray hands gripping the sides of the wrecked car and slowly pulling himself free. Huh. Regeneration Brute. So that''s what that looks like. The teen watched in morbid fascination as the man emerged from the wreckage. Gnarly. He was a muscled man shorter than Greg, wearing a ripped black t-shirt and jeans, with ragged white wrappings around his hands and forearms. There was a large faded white scar in the shape of an X across his face centered on his nose. What stood out most, though, was his skin ¨C an unnatural, sickly gray that made Greg think of corpses and zombies. Greg narrowed his eyes. Analyze, he thought, activating his power.
Jiangshi Lvl 42 Urban Revenant HP: 1280/1280 Trait: Somatic Integrity Reinforcement Jiangshi is the undead enforcer of the New York Flying Dragons. With skin as gray as the city smog and hair like silver wire, this villain is a relentless, regenerating thug who refuses to stay down. Feels very little pain or much else at all, apart from the rush of adrenaline. Jiangshi prefers close-quarters combat to better leverage his brute strength and rapid regenerative abilities. It''s the only way he feels alive.
"Son of a¡­" Hardkour''s gloved hand went to the sword on his back as the gray-skinned man fully stood up, the villain rolling his neck as he groaned and spoke. "This fuckin guy." Cloudy-looking whitish eyes turned Greg''s way, the guy clicking his tongue as he raised an eyebrow. "I know that ain''t who I think it is¡­" His voice was a gravelly drawl, tinged with a hint of New York accent. Hardkour stared back, trying to keep his voice level and intimidating. "And who are you thinking?" Jiangshi snorted, a sound somewhere between amusement and disdain. "I''m thinking it''s some shitty AB-brat who''s trying to get in the way of my fight." The teenager blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual dismissal. "Your fi-" "WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT SHITTY ZOMBIE?!" Greg''s head snapped back to the hole in the warehouse wall the cape in front of him flew out of, a figure hopping out onto the rubble with a mad cackle. The new arrival''s voice was high-pitched and manic, a stark contrast to Jiangshi''s bored drawl. Analyze, Greg thought again, his power kicking in instantly.
Firestarter Fugitive HP: 450/450 Trait: Dermal Pyrokinetic Propagation
Akuma. Greg blinked, watching the fire trail up the man''s bare arms, skin flickering like paper and trailing off into the air as bits of flame. Oh, that just looks weird. It was like watching a human candle, flesh melting and reforming in a constant dance of fire. "Ask this fucking kid," Jiangshi drawled, jerking a thumb in Greg''s direction. Akuma''s gaze snapped to Greg, the blond standing directly in the middle of both villains. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with a manic energy that made Greg''s skin crawl. "Ay, kid, what happened to my fuckin'' fight?" Greg tensed, glancing between the two villains. He could feel the heat radiating off Akuma, the air shimmering around him. Jiangshi, on the other hand, seemed to suck the warmth from his surroundings, his undead presence an unnatural chill. Caught between fire and ice, Greg thought, just my luck. "I don''t know what you fucking think this is," Greg growled, trying to channel his inner badass, "but keep it out of my fucking territory." He glanced at Jiangshi, noting the way the undead cape''s muscles tensed, ready for action. "Take it back to New York," he said, before shifting his gaze to Akuma, "or Boston. Or wherever the fuck else. Just keep it out of my backyard." The gray-skinned man grinned slowly, a predatory expression that made Greg''s hair stand on end. "I don''t know, I kinda like it. Feels like a second home." Akuma laughed, a high-pitched giggle that sent shivers down Greg''s spine. "Yeah," he said, flames dancing in his eyes, "It lets us meet in the middle. And I''m all about compromise." Hardkour fought the urge to roll his eyes. Great, comedian villains. Just what I needed. "Portland''s right next door," he suggested, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Go fuck their shit over." Jiangshi tilted his head, considering. "He''s got a point." For a moment, Greg thought they might actually listen. Then Akuma spoke again, dashing those hopes. "Yeah¡­" the pyrokinetic drawled, his grin widening impossibly. "But the boss likes this shitheap. With Lung off to the Birdcage, it''s looking like a perfect vacation home. A real fixer-upper, though." His gaze swept around the derelict warehouse neighborhood. "And your shit is in need of fixing-upping." Hardkour felt a spark of anger at the casual dismissal of his city. "Rude," he muttered, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to draw his sword. Akuma''s eyes snapped back to Greg, narrowing dangerously. "And on top of that, you got my fucking shark girl arrested." Hardkour''s eyes flicked in his direction, confusion momentarily overriding his anger. "I''m... sorry? Was she your girlfriend or something?" That wasn''t in the briefing¡­ Akuma''s demeanor changed in an instant. The fire on his arms intensified, flames licking higher as he started to twitch. His face contorted with rage, suddenly seeming to become manic as his palms exploded with fire with the force of small grenades. The blast sent debris flying, scorching the ground beneath him. Greg tensed, muscles coiling as he prepared for the attack he knew was coming. Time seemed to slow as Akuma pointed his hands behind him, using the explosive force of his flames to propel himself forward. The pyrokinetic shot towards Hardkour at high speed, spitting and screaming at the top of his lungs: "YOU GOT MY SHARK GIRL ARRESTED!" Grief 7.7c Grief 7.7c ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ? Akuma''s arms blazed with an infernal glow as he charged towards Hardkour, each step leaving scorched footprints on the cracked asphalt. The heat from his body distorted the air, creating a shimmering haze around him. Hardkour''s eyes narrowed behind his mask as Hardkour took his stance, Nozarashi coming free from his back as he held the katana out in front of him. He tensed his body, preparing to sidestep and counter. Alright, just dodge, slice, win. Easy peasy. Before he could move, the world seemed to slow down in his eyes as Jiangshi burst in between them at the pace of a car. The zombie stepped in with supernatural swiftness, his body nearly a blur. Hardkour''s enhanced senses kicked into overdrive, allowing him to catch every detail of the incoming attack. Jiangshi''s shirt strained as he swung his arm, vascular gray limb tensed. The villain''s fist connected with a thunderous impact against Akuma''s chest, a shockwave of force distorting the damp air of the waterfront and blasting nearby debris aside. Concrete cracked beneath their feet, the force of the blow sending spider-web fissures racing across the ground. Akuma stumbled back, his flames flickering wildly, his eyes wide with shock and fury. He recovered quickly, the fire intensifying, roaring back to life with a vengeance. "You fuckin'' dickhead!" he snarled, his Boston accent thick with rage. "This is personal right now!" Hardkour seized the moment and dashed forward, katana drawn. The blade caught the light in a deadly arc as it flared with heat. "I said stop!" Jiangshi turned to meet Hardkour, his movement a series of rapid, jerky twitches, indicative of a body powered by something other than human musculature. "Tch, kid''s got some balls," he muttered, his tone somewhere between bored and mildly impressed. Heated metal screamed as katana met the supernatural hardness of Jiangshi''s skin. The blade bit into a layer of skin but didn''t move any further, even as it exploded with the force of a grenade. The shockwave made Hardkour''s eyes widen behind his helmet as the guy didn''t even flinch. Oh, fuck me. Even as Hardkour''s Danger Sense rang, Jiangshi punched him in the gut, making his eyes widen and sending him skidding back. His sword remained stuck in the gray man''s flesh, like some kind of giant porcupine quill. Hardkour blinked, grunting in surprise as Jiangshi simply yanked the sword from his forearm and tossed it aside. "How tough is this guy?" Hardkour wondered, a mix of awe and frustration filling him. Akuma''s voice cut through the chaos like a lit match in a gas leak, his words dripping with the kind of manic energy only a pyrokinetic could justify. "C''mon, c''mon! That all you got?" His laughter was sharp, serrated, as he straightened up, one foot hovering in the air like he was about to crush an invisible soda can. The heat around him shimmered, warping the space like a mirage on asphalt. "I''ve seen matchsticks with more FIYAH!" Then came the stomp. The ground beneath him cracked and howled as a wave of fire roared forward, turning asphalt into molten slag in a heartbeat. The air turned thick and heavy, heat searing Hardkour''s skin even from several feet away. He didn''t hesitate¡ªrolling forward like a spring snapping loose, his body reacting even before his brain caught up. The fire hit behind him with a deafening BOOM, sending chunks of street flying. The force of it knocked a parked car onto its side, wheels spinning helplessly in the air. Right in the middle of it, the flame swallowed Jiangshi, the gray-skinned brute standing like a statue, his body obscured in the blinding inferno. For a moment, the battlefield became a living furnace. Hardkour didn''t stop moving. His boots found a crumbling wall, and he pushed off with an explosive leap, angling his body into a sharp arc back toward the fight. He landed in a crouch, skidding slightly as the pavement beneath him groaned in protest. His heart hammered against his ribs, but his lips curled into a grin. "Okay," he muttered to himself, eyes darting between the two villains, "I''m mostly fireproof, so we focus on that one." His gaze locked on Jiangshi, who was emerging from the flames like he''d just walked out of a bad action movie, his skin untouched, his clothes singed but intact. Hardkour burst forward, his body blurring as he closed the distance, his momentum coiling into a flying kick aimed squarely at Jiangshi''s head. The impact was solid, satisfying¡ªbone meeting bone with a dull thwack. For a second, Jiangshi staggered, his head snapping to the side. Then he straightened, faster than Hardkour anticipated, a dry chuckle rattling from his throat. His silver hair caught the light of Akuma''s flames, glinting like polished steel. His smile was wide, feral. "Nice try, kid," Jiangshi said, his voice low and guttural, as his hand shot out and clamped around Hardkour''s leg like a steel trap. The grip was crushing, sending a jolt of pressure up Hardkour''s spine. "But I''ve had paper cuts more painful than this." Hardkour twisted instinctively, his waist rotating with unnatural flexibility. His free leg lashed out, the bottom of his boot smashing into Jiangshi''s face. The brute''s head jerked back, and with a shout of exertion, Hardkour snapped his leg straight, forcing the man to release him. Hardkour flipped backward, landing lightly on his feet with the kind of grace that usually required weeks of stunt choreography. Akuma wasn''t about to let the spotlight slip. "Stand still, you little shit!" he roared, flames trailing from his fists as he launched a series of blazing punches in Hardkour''s direction. The air hissed and cracked with every strike, the heat sucking the moisture out of Hardkour''s lungs. Hardkour deflected with rapid blocks, his arms moving in a blur. Pain lanced through him as his exposed skin blistered¡ªnot from simple heat but something deeper, something corrosive and violent in Akuma''s flames. His sleeves disintegrated, ash fluttering to the ground like dirty snowflakes. - 178 HP
"Note to self," Hardkour muttered through gritted teeth, his arms stinging painfully with every block. "Fire-resistant doesn''t mean fireproof. Ow, ow, ow." The fight shifted. Jiangshi recovered from Hardkour''s earlier attack, joining Akuma with a surprising level of coordination. Together, they closed in, flanking Hardkour on either side like predators circling prey. Hardkour''s muscles coiled, his Danger Sense flaring with urgent warnings. Jiangshi charged first, each step a mini-quake that splintered the pavement. Akuma followed, his hands glowing like molten iron, flames licking hungrily at the air. Hardkour darted backward, narrowly avoiding a crushing blow from Jiangshi''s fist that cratered the ground where he''d been standing. "Yo, zombie guy!" Hardkour called out, his voice edged with mockery as he dodged another fiery swipe from Akuma. "I thought your fight was with him?" He jerked his head toward Akuma, hoping to reignite the tension between the two villains. Jiangshi''s grunt was more animal than human, but his focus stayed locked on Hardkour. His silver eyes gleamed with a cold intensity as he lunged again, his massive hand swiping for Hardkour''s throat. Hardkour ducked, twisting sideways as the wall behind him cracked under the force of the miss. "Okay," Hardkour said to himself, his tone dry despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "Plan B. Or C. Or¡ªhow many letters are there, again?" Hardkour pivoted sharply on his heel, narrowly avoiding Akuma''s blazing fist. The air sizzled where his head had been, and he felt the sharp sting of heat graze his cheek, like a strong sunburn. Too close. Way too close. He twisted mid-motion, already anticipating Jiangshi''s next move as the zombie-like brute swung a massive arm in a wide arc. The guy wasn''t subtle; the punch aimed for Hardkour''s ribs might as well have come with a GPS tracker. Hardkour threw himself backward, the rush of displaced air whooshing past his face as Jiangshi''s blow tore through empty space. The brute''s swing smashed into a nearby light pole, the steel bending like it was made of tin. Hardkour landed with a controlled skid, his boots grinding against the cracked pavement. His stance was wide, balanced¡ªready. Okay, Hardkour. Think. Two-on-one. One fire-happy psycho who apparently doesn''t believe in SPF, and one undead meathead with fists like cinder blocks. What would Eidolon do? He pictured it for half a second¡ªa graceful, tactical takedown, maybe a deus ex machina power trick. Yeah, no. Not happening. Akuma darted in again, his manic grin stretching wider. "Time to burn, baby!" he yelled, flames rippling off his skin like living things. His fist ignited mid-swing, the heat visibly warping the air. Hardkour dodged, dipping low under the strike, and retaliated with his own flaming punch. His knuckles collided with Akuma''s chest, sending a satisfying shockwave through the air as the pyrokinetic staggered back. For a moment, Hardkour thought he''d landed a solid hit¡ªuntil Akuma laughed. No, not just laughed¡ªcackled, head thrown back like a cartoon villain. The flames Hardkour had hit him with crawled up his arms, sinking into his skin. The burns and scrapes on Akuma''s exposed arms began to fade, healing over in real time. "Oh, great," Hardkour groaned, deadpan. "Fire heals you." "Damn straight!" Akuma barked, voice wild as his arms flared brighter. He slapped his hand against a nearby car, flames erupting and consuming it almost instantly. The heat visibly seeped back into his body, his smirk widening as the freshly ignited blaze licked up the side of a building. "I''m just getting warmed up!" Hardkour was about to spit back another quip when Jiangshi lunged in from the side, his gray-skinned fist catching Hardkour''s shoulder with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact sent him skidding across the pavement, his shoulder throbbing. Hardkour gritted his teeth and shoved down the pain. "Okay," he muttered under his breath, rising to his feet. "Maybe not Eidolon. What would Legend do? Talk them into becoming good guys? Yeah, no. Not feeling that vibe." Jiangshi''s follow-up punch came like a wrecking ball, but Hardkour was ready. He ducked under the swing, his muscles coiling, and launched himself upward with a tight, brutal uppercut to Jiangshi''s jaw. The contact was clean¡ªbone met bone with a crack that echoed in the night air. Hardkour''s grin widened for half a second. Ha! Take that, you undead tank. Then Jiangshi straightened, his head slowly lowering back into position like nothing had happened. His bored expression didn''t even flicker, his gray lips curling into something almost like amusement. "Fight him, fight you," Jiangshi muttered, his tone disinterested. "Ehh, it''s all the same." Before Hardkour could counter, Akuma burst forward, flames erupting from his hands as his expression shifted into something more manic. "Let''s keep this party going!" he yelled, barely holding back the gleeful giggles bubbling in his throat. Hardkour''s Danger Sense flared, a warning that wasn''t entirely necessary given the flaming lunatic charging him. He spun on his heel and leapt into action, exploding upward into a wide split kick that slammed into both Akuma and Jiangshi''s chests. The impact sent them flying in opposite directions, kicking up a storm of dust and debris.
"Not today, assholes!" Hardkour snarled, landing lightly on the cratered ground as his momentum carried him forward. Keep the pressure on. Don''t let ''em breathe. He charged Jiangshi first, ducking under a wild haymaker and popping up with a vicious uppercut that snapped the brute''s head back again. This time, Hardkour didn''t pause to gloat. He turned, closing the gap to Akuma in two quick strides. Akuma, flustered now, lashed out with a flaming backhand. Hardkour ducked under it, his reflexes sharp, and swept Akuma''s legs from under him with a low, precise kick. The pyrokinetic hit the ground hard, his manic grin faltering as he gasped for air. "Timber, motherfucker!" Hardkour quipped, planting his boot on Akuma''s chest and glaring down at him. The pyrokinetic hissed in pain, his flames flickering violently as he slammed a palm to the ground. Fire exploded outward, erupting from the ground and forcing Hardkour to leap back. The flames climbed higher, devouring the wreckage Akuma had caused earlier, and Hardkour realized what was happening. The fire wasn''t random¡ªit was fuel. Akuma''s injuries faded as the heat fed him, his breathing evening out as he grinned up at Hardkour. "Well, that''s not annoying at all," Hardkour muttered, his eyes darting between the smoldering Akuma and the hulking Jiangshi, who was already advancing again. A guttural roar alerted Hardkour a split second before Jiangshi barreled into him, meaty fists swinging. Persistent prick! Hardkour swayed aside from a punch that would''ve stoved in his skull, latched onto the freak''s shoulders and heaved. Jiangshi''s own momentum carried him up and over, right into a staggering Akuma. "Fuck off!" Both villains clambered up, expressions promising murder. Hardkour''s fingers closed around a length of pipe as he blitzed forward. Batter up, shitlords! The metal sang as it cracked against Jiangshi''s dome, the impact juddering up Hardkour''s arms. Homerun! Crowd goes wild! Akuma''s howl of rage sent a chill down Hardkour''s spine. The pyro''s arms exploded into searing brilliance, the heat palpable even yards away. A fiery fist scythed through the air and Hardkour folded backward, the flames nearly kissing his face. Uncoiling like a spring, the masked vigilante chambered a kick and fired it point-blank into Akuma''s knee. Something crunched and the psycho screamed. Sensing movement, Hardkour whirled and weaved under another of Jiangshi''s swings. He lunged up, fist leading, and buried a brutal uppercut in the freak''s breadbasket. Air whooshed out of undead lungs and the blond grinned. Akuma''s shriek cut through the chaos, sharp and jagged, like a fire alarm on steroids. "Fucking DIE!" Hardkour barely registered the Danger Sense flare before the fireball consumed him. The heat hit first, a flash of agony that seemed to bypass his skin and bury itself deep in his chest. Then came the force¡ªa concussive punch that hurled him backward, the world flipping over itself in a kaleidoscope of fire and shadows. His only coherent thought: Ah fu¡ª The brownstone''s facade shattered as he tore through it, the impact detonating brick and mortar in an avalanche of pulverized debris. The force rattled his bones and sent a shockwave through the already compromised building. Somewhere between the crash and the dust settling, he realized he''d stopped moving. His ribs screamed as he forced himself upright, fragments of brick cascading off him like confetti at the worst party ever. Ears ringing, chest burning, Hardkour staggered to his feet, dragging in air that tasted like smoke and plaster. Through the jagged hole he''d made, he could see the carnage outside¡ªAkuma and Jiangshi were tearing into each other, their brawl an apocalyptic ballet of fire, fists, and collateral damage. Akuma''s flames surged like living things, licking at everything within reach, while Jiangshi tanked the hits, his heavy frame barreling through each blow like a freight train refusing to be derailed. Glass exploded, windows bowed inward, and metal twisted as the two villains rampaged. The street was becoming a war zone. These fuckers are gonna level the whole block. A scream cut through the ringing in his ears. He turned, catching sight of squatters scrambling for the exits, their faces pale, their fear a living thing that twisted the air around them. One man tripped, his hands scraping against jagged rubble as he scrambled for balance. Hardkour''s jaw clenched, fury igniting in his veins. Can''t let anyone else get hurt. Gotta end this. Now. The anger hit him like a jolt of lightning, sharper than pain and louder than the chaos. He launched into a sprint, crossing the distance between himself and the brawl in a blur. The crowd became a smear of wide eyes and dirty faces as he moved past them. A mother clutching a child. An old man trying to pull another to his feet. Their terror was fuel, stoking the fire already burning in his gut. Ahead, Akuma landed a blazing uppercut that sent Jiangshi sprawling backward. The impact slammed the brute into the brownstone, shaking the structure like it had been struck by an earthquake. Dust and debris rained down, and the building swayed drunkenly. Hardkour''s stomach dropped as he spotted a wooden beam crashing down toward the bystanders. "SHIT!" His voice cracked like a whip as he moved, his body reacting on pure instinct. With a leap, he planted his foot on a crumbling piece of masonry and kicked off, his trajectory arcing straight toward the beam. His fingers found purchase, and with a grunt, he shoved it aside, sending it clattering harmlessly to the ground. The squatters bolted, their screams echoing in the night, but Hardkour didn''t wait to see them escape. He was already moving. "Get the FUCK away from them!" Hardkour roared, hurling himself back into the fray. His roundhouse kick came like a missile, the arc of his leg cutting through the smoke-filled air. His boot connected with Akuma''s ribs, sending the pyrokinetic skidding across the street. The momentum carried through, his other foot catching Jiangshi in the face. Brick and dust exploded as the zombie brute smashed into a wall, cratering the already battered structure. Akuma hit the ground rolling but sprang up almost instantly, flames trailing from his limbs like frenzied shadows. His eyes burned with rage, the heat warping the air around him. "Oh, you wanna die?" His voice cracked on the last word, more unstable than intimidating, but the fireball forming in his hands said otherwise. Hardkour didn''t give him the chance. He exploded forward, fists blurring in a rapid-fire assault. Each punch connected with a satisfying crunch, Akuma''s molten skin flaring with each impact. The bastard''s flames burned hotter, eating through what was left of Hardkour''s gloves and stinging his knuckles, but Hardkour didn''t stop. - 28 HP VIT + 1 (223) The pain was background noise now. "Fight through it, Veder," he snarled to himself, gritting his teeth as his fists hammered into Akuma''s face, chest, and arms. Each blow disrupted the flames slightly, but he could see the bastard drawing energy from the fires he''d created. The damage wasn''t sticking. Jiangshi re-entered the fight with the grace of a wrecking ball, his massive fist swinging toward Hardkour''s back. Danger Sense flared, and Hardkour twisted sharply, slapping the strike aside with a grunt. The deflection sent a jolt up his arm, and Jiangshi followed up with another swing. Akuma didn''t waste the opportunity. He leapt forward, aiming a fiery kick at Hardkour''s head. Hardkour ducked, feeling the heat scorch the top of his hair as it passed, and drove an elbow into Jiangshi''s gut. The brute folded with a deep, guttural noise that was half pain, half frustration. Grabbing Jiangshi''s arm, Hardkour pivoted sharply, using his momentum to fling the zombie through a shattered storefront. Glass exploded as Jiangshi crashed inside, landing with a thunderous thud. "Twofer!" Hardkour barked, his voice sharp with adrenaline. "One down¡ª" His Danger Sense screamed again. Akuma''s wild haymaker was coming in hot¡ªliterally. Hardkour juked left, narrowly avoiding the fiery fist, and countered with a jaw-rattling uppercut. His knuckles met Akuma''s chin, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The shockwave rippled through Akuma''s face, lifting the pyrokinetic clean off the ground. Spittle, embers, and a trail of flame hung suspended in the air. Hardkour couldn''t help but grin, his pulse thrumming in his ears. Damn, I''m good. Akuma hit the pavement with a sickening crunch, flames sputtering out as his Breaker state briefly faltered. Hardkour loomed over him, chest heaving, the cracked visor of his helmet making his glare all the more feral. "JUST STAY DOWN, MAN!" "Fuhk off, brat!" Akuma snarled through a broken jaw, flames reigniting along his arms as he surged up from the ground. The heat radiating off him made the air shimmer like a mirage, but Hardkour didn''t flinch. He ducked under a wild, flame-wreathed swing, stepping into Akuma''s space and grabbing the extended arm. Gotcha, dickhead. With a savage twist, Hardkour yanked Akuma off his feet and whipped him over his shoulder, slamming him into the pavement. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, fissures spiderwebbing outward as chunks of asphalt flew like shrapnel. Akuma wheezed, his flames momentarily dimming, but before Hardkour could capitalize, his Danger Sense screamed. Behind! Jiangshi slammed into him like a runaway freight train. A sledgehammer fist buried itself in Hardkour''s side, driving the air from his lungs in a single violent whoosh. "Motherfff¡ª!" Hardkour staggered back, ribs creaking under the force of the blow. He bit back the pain through gritted teeth. Sonnuva¡­ fuckin'' cheap shot. Akuma wasn''t about to let the opening go to waste. He sucked in more power from the fires in the buildings and darted in with a blistering one-two combo, flames trailing his fists like streaks of molten lava. The first punch shattered the pavement inches from Hardkour''s head, while the second ignited the air itself, sending waves of concussive heat rippling outwards. Hardkour rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding a fiery hammer fist that pulverized the asphalt where his head had been a split second earlier. Shards of jagged debris peppered his mask, spiderweb cracks racing across its surface. His Danger Sense flared again, but the boiling frustration in his chest drowned it out. Alright, enough. Hardkour exploded into motion, crossing the distance to Jiangshi in a burst of speed that left the air buzzing in his wake. The world seemed to slow, the zombie brute''s expression sharpening into focus. Triumph glinted in Jiangshi''s dead eyes as he raised a meaty fist¡ªbut Hardkour was faster. His fist smashed into Jiangshi''s jaw with a bone-rattling crack, snapping the brute''s head to the side. Rotting teeth sprayed from Jiangshi''s lips, black ichor dripping onto the demolished pavement. Jiangshi growled, his massive hand clamping down on Hardkour''s bicep with crushing force. "Oh fu¡ª" Hardkour managed before the world blurred. Jiangshi hurled him like a ragdoll, Hardkour''s body smashing through a wall of damp brick and jagged glass before slamming into the ground with enough force to crater it. The impact jarred his teeth and left his muscles screaming in protest, but he didn''t stay down. Gritting his teeth, Hardkour rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, every nerve in his body alight with rage. His head snapped up just in time to see Akuma charging him, flames erupting in quick bursts behind him as his feet pounded the cracked pavement. Each fiery detonation propelled him forward like a living rocket. Nope. Hardkour reacted on instinct, backflipping with acrobatic precision as Akuma whooshed past him. He felt the singe of heat against his face as the pyrokinetic missed by mere inches. Akuma slammed into the wreckage of a car, and the fuel tank detonated in a spectacular fireball that lit up the street. Hardkour landed lightly on his feet, already smirking. "Missed me¡ª" His Danger Sense blared too late. Thick, iron-like arms wrapped around him from behind, Jiangshi pulling him into a crushing bear hug. Hardkour''s ribs groaned in protest as his chest compressed against the brute''s unyielding frame. Foul, fetid breath washed over his neck, making his stomach churn. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. - 19 - 11 - 10 - 21 VIT + 1 (224) "Oh god," Hardkour choked out, wriggling against the grip. "Your breath fuckin'' reeks! Dude needs a Tic-Tac the size of a cinderblock!" The pressure tightened, stars creeping into Hardkour''s vision. His brain screamed for air, but he forced his focus inward. Drawing on his Reinforcement, he felt the power flood through his muscles, every fiber of his body igniting with supercharged strength. He braced his feet against the ground and wrenched his arms upward, prying Jiangshi''s grip apart with a roar of effort. Breaking free, Hardkour twisted sharply and drove an elbow into Jiangshi''s face. The blow landed with a wet, meaty thud, and the zombie stumbled back, ichor dripping from his cracked cheekbone. Hardkour followed up immediately, ducking low and sweeping Jiangshi''s legs out from under him. The brute hit the ground hard, but Hardkour didn''t stop there. He launched himself into the air, twisting mid-leap, and came down hard with both boots slamming into Jiangshi''s chest. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the street, cracks radiating outward as Jiangshi let out a guttural snarl and reared to his feet in a burst of rage. Hardkour jackknifed his body, slamming his head back into Jiangshi''s face. The wet crunch of cartilage breaking was deeply satisfying, even as he was still wheezing from earlier. Jiangshi''s grip loosened, and Hardkour twisted free like a spring snapping back into place. He spun, driving his heel into Jiangshi''s gut with all the force his enhanced muscles could muster. "Choke on that, you decomposing dick!" Hardkour snarled as Jiangshi doubled over, air whooshing from his undead lungs. He didn''t get a chance to follow up. A guttural roar erupted behind him, and the earth itself seemed to catch fire. Flames blasted upward in a violent torrent, swallowing Hardkour''s world in suffocating heat. The ground beneath his feet buckled, cracked, and then disintegrated entirely, leaving him suspended in a moment of chaos. The explosion spat him out like shrapnel. Hacking and coughing, Hardkour tumbled wildly through the smoke-filled air, his body screaming abuse with every impact and roll. His muscles trembled with exertion, his skin stinging as if peppered with needles. - 10 HP - 24 HP - 9 HP Just need... a second... to breathe... He blinked hard, forcing his eyes open against the burning ash that clung to his face. The world around him wavered like a mirage, flickering shadows cast by the inferno Akuma had unleashed. Rubble shifted beneath his boots as he staggered upright. Where...? A tremor crawled up his spine, an electric buzz zipping across the back of his neck. His Danger Sense flared, screaming louder than his thoughts. Oh shit¡­ MOVE! Hardkour didn''t hesitate. Muscles coiling, he leapt skyward just as the ground beneath him detonated in a fiery eruption. The blast sent chunks of superheated asphalt and shattered stone spraying outward, ripping through the space he''d been standing like a grenade. He twisted mid-air, landing in a crouch on the edge of the blast zone, his gaze already snapping toward the threat. Jiangshi was on him before he could catch his breath, barreling forward with footsteps that shook the earth. The brute''s eyes gleamed with unrelenting purpose, his massive body a blur of movement despite his bulk. Hardkour pivoted sharply on the balls of his feet, meeting Jiangshi''s charge head-on. His piledriver fist slammed into the brute''s ribs with a sickening thud that reverberated through the battlefield. The impact staggered Jiangshi, his lips peeling back in a grotesque snarl. Hardkour didn''t pause to enjoy the moment. Movement in the smoke caught his eye¡ªAkuma, bursting out of the wreckage. The arsonist looked eerily intact, his Breaker state pulsing violently as flames crawled over his skin, healing the damage that should''ve left him a burnt-out husk. The twisted wreck of the car he''d just exploded from didn''t even seem to register with him, the burning remains rejuvenating and invigorating the maniac to new heights. "Can I just have my fuckin'' fight?!" Akuma bellowed, throwing his hands up as flames licked around his fingers. His frustration was palpable, but it didn''t make him any less dangerous. Hardkour surged forward in a burst of speed, his feet barely skimming the ground. He rolled into a tight combat somersault and popped up in front of Akuma like a living jack-in-the-box. "Shoryuken!" he shouted gleefully, his uppercut connecting with Akuma''s jaw with a force that sent the pyro''s head snapping back. Akuma stumbled, dazed and punch-drunk, his steps as wobbly as a drunk on roller skates. "Ha! Get it? Sure you can? Shoryuken¡­ Sure you can?¡­No?" Hardkour quipped, tilting his head as Akuma teetered. "Everyone''s a critic." Not wasting the opening, Hardkour spun on his heel, channeling his Reinforcement through his body as he delivered a brutal roundhouse kick. His boot connected with Akuma''s side, and Hardkour felt and heard ribs crack and shatter as the pyrokinetic was sent hurtling across the battlefield. He crashed into a graffiti-covered wall with enough force to reduce the bricks to powder. The entire building groaned, shuddering under the strain as rubble cascaded from the point of impact. Hardkour straightened, flicking dust from his gloves. "Timber," he muttered, voice dripping with amusement. But of course, Akuma didn''t stay down. A half-second later, the pyrokinetic staggered out of the rubble, flames already licking at his body as his jaw realigned itself with a grotesque snap. His eyes burned with fury, his expression a mix of pain and unhinged rage. "You fuckin'' punk!" Akuma screeched, his voice cracking with strain as the air around him shimmered with heat, his flames spiking violently as veins bulged in his neck. "I''m gonna char ya into fuckin'' kibble!" Hardkour narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching as the air hummed with the energy coursing through his body. Reinforcement, fully active, made every muscle coil like a loaded spring. "You can try," he said, his voice low, deadly. His Danger Sense blared again, and he was already moving. Akuma charged, flames erupting with each step, but Hardkour slipped past him in a blur of speed. With Surface Adhesion activated, he planted a boot on a nearby wall and used it as a springboard, launching himself into a high arc that carried him over Akuma''s head. As he descended, Hardkour twisted mid-air, aiming a devastating axe kick at Akuma''s exposed back. His heel connected with a crack that echoed across the battlefield, driving the pyrokinetic face-first into the ground. Akuma''s flames sputtered violently, struggling to recover from the blow. Jiangshi lunged from the side, but Hardkour was ready. He pivoted sharply, slamming his knee into Jiangshi''s ribs with enough force to lift the brute off the ground. Jiangshi didn''t go down. He landed hard, feet crunching into the shattered asphalt, and straightened with an unnervingly casual air. The series of pops from his knuckles sounded like distant gunfire, and his dead black eyes locked onto Greg with murderous focus. "Enough screwing around," Jiangshi growled, his voice low and flat, dripping with malice. "Imma put ya in the ground where ya belong." I''ll remember to laugh when I''m standing over his twitching corpse. Greg tilted his head, considering. Assuming he''s not already a corpse. Can corpses twitch? Questions for later. Shaking off the stray thought, Hardkour barked a sharp laugh. "When I''m done with the both of you, I''ll go visit your moms! They''ll give me a way better workout." Akuma''s snarl came like a match striking flint, flames bursting from his flash-paper skin in a wild, erratic blaze. The heat radiating off him turned the air into a shimmering inferno. "I HATE THIS FUCKIN'' KID!" Greg''s Danger Sense buzzed softly in the back of his mind as both villains squared off against him, their focus united for the first time. His grin sharpened, thoughts racing. Okay, if I can''t pull an Eidolon, I''ll do an Alexandria. Alexandria''s playbook was simple: brutality and overwhelming force. Make it clear, make it fast, and make it hurt. Hardkour''s body exploded into motion. He surged forward, his body glowing faintly gold, sharpening his movements into precision strikes. He hit Jiangshi first, closing the distance in less than a second. His hand clamped around the zombie''s forearm, fingers digging into cold, rubbery flesh. With a roar of effort, Greg pivoted, using Jiangshi''s own momentum to rip him off the ground. The brute''s feet left the earth, his massive body arcing through the air as Hardkour hurled him into the inferno left by Akuma''s earlier rampage. Jiangshi''s form disappeared into the flames, steam and ash billowing upward in an angry cloud. "Yo, zombie dude!" Greg called out, voice cocky despite the strain in his muscles. "You should really stay down." Akuma''s head snapped toward the explosion, distracted for a fraction of a second. Greg didn''t waste it. He was already moving, his feet slamming into the pavement as he sprinted toward the pyrokinetic. The man''s flames flared wildly, but his eyes widened as Greg closed in. "Ey, what the fu¡ª" Akuma''s shout cut off mid-sentence as Greg''s reinforced knee slammed into his stomach. The blow landed with devastating force, bending Akuma''s body around the point of impact as the pyrokinetic let out a pained gurgling wheeze. Something cracked and the boy grinned. Greg followed up instantly, pivoting to drive his elbow into the back of Akuma''s skull. The strike dropped him to the ground with a groan, flames sputtering weakly. Greg planted his feet, already tracking his next target. His Danger Sense screamed. He spun just in time, catching Jiangshi''s fist with a raised block. The impact jolted up his forearms and into his shoulders, a sickening wave of force that made his teeth rattle. "Shit," Greg muttered under his breath, wincing. This guy hits like a fucking truck. Jiangshi smirked faintly, his expression bored despite the fight''s intensity. "Tch, not bad, kid. But you''re gonna have to do better than that." Greg''s grin widened beneath his mask, feral and dangerous. His muscles burned with exertion, but the heat only sharpened his focus. He let the Reinforcement glow shift, bleeding red as he activated Burst. Pain lanced through him as the power surged, his arms trembling with the violent increase in strength. His body blurred, footwork invisible as he vanished from Jiangshi''s sight, slipping behind the zombie before planting his feet for a powerful strike. "And overwhelming¡­" Hardkour growled, his voice low, building to a primal scream. "FORCE!" He brought his fists together and slammed them down onto Jiangshi''s spine in a devastating hammer blow. The force of the strike cracked the ground beneath them, spiderweb fissures rippling outward with a deafening boom. The shockwave made the air shudder, dust and debris kicking up around them. Jiangshi roared, the sound guttural and raw as his massive frame staggered and twitched under the impact. He tried to straighten, his movements slow and jerky. "That¡­ that actually hurt," he muttered, voice thick with surprise. Without hesitation, Greg pivoted sharply, his adrenaline surging as his eyes locked onto Akuma again. The pyrokinetic was struggling to rise, his hands trembling, sparks sputtering feebly from his fingers as he leeched fire from the environment as fast as he could to fix his shattered spine and skull both. Despite his unsteady stance, Akuma''s eyes still burned with a mix of rage and desperation. "Come on, ya little shit," Akuma snarled, his Boston accent thick enough to cut with a knife. "I''ll turn ya into a fuckin'' cinder!" Greg''s lips curled into a grim smile. This is gonna hurt me more than it hurts you... he thought, then smirked slightly. Okay, maybe not. The crimson glow of Burst ignited along his body, raw power flooding his muscles and surging through his veins. His legs coiled, and in the blink of an eye, he was nose-to-nose with Akuma, his sudden appearance freezing the pyrokinetic in place. Fear flickered behind the fury in Akuma''s wide eyes. Greg''s fist rocketed forward, glowing red-hot with concentrated energy. The punch landed square in Akuma''s stomach, and the impact reverberated through the battlefield like a bomb going off. The sickening sound of flesh and bone giving way under the force was a grotesque symphony¡ªlike a watermelon meeting a sledgehammer wrapped in dynamite.
Akuma''s body crumpled instantly, folding over Greg''s fist before rocketing backward. He crashed into the rubble-strewn ground, bouncing once, twice, before coming to rest in a shattered heap. His flames flickered and died, his breaths shallow and ragged. Greg stood there, chest heaving, staring at Akuma''s limp form. "Guess you couldn''t take the heat," he muttered, unable to resist the pun. A wet, squelching crunch from behind sent a chill up his spine. His Danger Sense hadn''t fired¡ªhe didn''t need it to know what was there. Ah, The other guy. Greg turned slowly, dread tightening in his gut like a lead weight. Jiangshi stood there, grinning, his teeth blackened and slick with ichor. His hulking frame looked almost untouched, the cracks in his flesh already knitting themselves back together. His expression was a grotesque promise of pain. "Enough screwing around," Greg muttered under his breath, his eyes snapping to the ground. Something glinted amidst the rubble Akuma had unearthed in his fall. A shape Greg knew well. Nozarashi. The katana''s blade caught the dimming light, reflecting a sliver of salvation. Greg''s eyes widened, his heartbeat quickening. Paper cut, huh. Let''s see how you like it when I upgrade to scissors. Jiangshi roared and charged, the ground quaking with each thunderous step. Greg didn''t hesitate. He exploded into motion, legs pumping like pistons as he sprinted for the blade. Each step ate up the distance in an instant, his hand stretching toward the hilt. He dropped into a roll, momentum carrying him through the chaos. His fingers closed around Nozarashi''s hilt, the familiar weight grounding him even as he came up in a crouch. The blade slid into a guard position with a whisper of steel, its balance perfect in his grip. Pain seared through his battered body, but Greg shoved it aside, forcing his focus into the moment. His muscles tensed, ready to spring. This is it. All or nothing. With a primal kiai shout, Greg surged forward in a blur of red. Nozarashi cut through the air in a blazing arc, the flames licking along the blade''s edge flaring with the sheer force behind the swing. Jiangshi''s expression twisted into confusion as the katana connected. The blade cleaved through Jiangshi''s torso with an almost effortless motion, parting dead flesh like silk. For a split second, time seemed to freeze. The brute''s upper half hung suspended in the air, his face caught in a moment of grotesque surprise. Then reality snapped back. Jiangshi''s torso crashed to the ground with a wet thud, followed by the slap of his severed lower half hitting the pavement a moment later. Thick, black blood sprayed from the wound, splattering the ground in dark, glistening streaks. To Greg''s surprise¡ªand disgust¡ªJiangshi was still conscious. The brute''s head lolled slightly as his dead eyes blinked slowly. His expression, calm despite the carnage, was almost unnerving. "That... that''s a new one," Jiangshi muttered, his voice faint but eerily steady. Despite both villains being down, Hardkour didn''t hear the familiar ping or see the pop-up of his UI telling him the quest was a success. What gives? Did I miss something? Hardkour''s head swiveled back and forth, scanning the area with a deepening frown. The street looked like a warzone, a testament to the destruction their battle had wrought. But other than Jiangshi''s pathetic attempts at pulling himself together, everything seemed quiet. Too quiet... Ah shit, I can''t believe I just unironically thought that. With a flicker of blue, Hardkour dismissed Nozarashi back to his inventory, the comforting weight vanishing from his palm. "What the hell..." The words slipped out in a mutter, confusion and unease warring for dominance down his spine. Something''s not right here. I can feel it in my- Hardkour froze, ice water replacing blood in his veins as a shudder worked its way up his spine. DANGER! His hand lashed up, tattered glove tightening around the object that had suddenly filled his palm. The fuck?! Pain exploded in his left hand, a sharp lance that had him hissing through clenched teeth. Blood welled up, flowing freely to drip from his wrist. Fuck, that hurts! What the shit is... Time seemed to slow to a crawl, each millisecond stretching to an eternity. A figure blurred into view, shimmering like a heat haze. Hardkour''s eyes widened as the world snapped back into focus, his brain finally registering what he was seeing. Is that... a dog mask? What the actual f- Analyze.
Speedster Samurai HP: 220/220 Trait: Temporal Displacement Protocol
Hardkour''s other hand struck like a viper, right for the neck, and tightened around the masked man''s throat like a vice, fingers digging into the soft flesh with bruising force. I''m so fucking done with this surprise attack bullshit! "I said¡­" He gripped the villain''s tanto, dismissing it into his inventory and ripped the young man''s neck tighter, making him scramble for air and claw at Hardkour''s fingers as his blurring intensified to the point it became audible. The sound reminded Hardkour of a hummingbird''s wings, if hummingbirds were human-sized and trying to kill you. "Fight. Over. Understood?" Ansatsu''s head bobbed up and down frantically, still choking in Hardkour''s grasp, hands raised in desperate surrender as his blurring intensified to a high-pitched whine. Well, that was easier than expected. Rolling his eyes, Hardkour tossed the guy over his shoulder, letting him fall into a gasping heap. The thud of body meeting concrete echoed in the eerily quiet street. Hardkour glanced around, waiting for¡­ Waiting for what exactly? His enhanced senses were still on high alert, picking up every whisper of wind, every creak of abandoned buildings. A growl of frustration tore from Hardkour''s throat, his patience snapping like rope. "Okay, enough of this surprise attack fuckery! Who''s next, huh? Step up now or forever hold your dicks, you cowardly shits!" He was annoyed, tired and annoyed ¡ª it needed a second mention ¡ª with today. It had been a nice pizza date and now he was burnt, and his bones were showing in places and he had a headache that he wasn''t sure sleep would fix. The ground rumbled ominously, the vibration traveling up Hardkour''s legs to rattle his teeth. Oh great, here we go again. He sighed heavily, resignation settling in his gut like a lead weight. I swear, if there''s a single fuck out there granting wishes, I''m gonna need a two-bad-guy-per-fight limit. Dirt and debris exploded outward as another costumed clown burst from a nearby alley, asphalt churning and swirling around him like a mini-tornado. Hardkour raised an eyebrow as he took in the newcomer''s ridiculous get-up. Boxing pads in an eye-searing shade of baby-shit brown covered the guy''s arms and legs, while the rest of him was sheathed in some kind of lumpy earth armor. As Boxer Boy charged forward, one hand plunged into the ground, the asphalt liquefying and flowing up his arm to form a massive, ugly club. Huh. Okay, that''s actually kinda cool. Too bad he''s gonna eat shit in about five seconds. Without hesitation, the walking dirtball swung his improvised weapon directly at Hardkour''s face, the air whistling with the force of it. Hardkour leapt back in a blur of motion, the club passing so close he could feel the disturbed air ruffle his hair. Landing in a crouch, Hardkour fixed the guy with a piercing glare, his voice sharp with barely-restrained frustration. "Who the fuck are you?!" "I''m Terracotta," the villain replied, his tone cocky and slightly high-pitched beneath the modified boxing mask. He twirled his earthen club with casual arrogance, a smirk visible in the set of his shoulders. "And I''m the guy who''s gonna pound you into the dirt, kid." Hardkour''s eye twitched, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides as he fought the urge to strangle this mouthy prick. "I''m going to assume you''re with either of them," Hardkour said, eyeing the unconscious arsonist, the asthmatic sounding speedster, and the zombie man still crawling over to his legs. "Why can''t you, you, you, and both halves of him just get the fuck out of my city?" Terracotta shifted his weight, muscles tensing beneath his earthen shell. "Because fuck you, that''s why!" With that, he charged forward recklessly, club swinging in a wide arc. Hardkour sidestepped smoothly, his body blurring with the speed of his motion. Fucking predictable. As Terracotta stumbled past, Hardkour pivoted and snapped his leg out in a brutal kick to the idiot''s midsection. His reinforced boot impacted with a meaty thud, the sound of forcefully expelled air echoing off the surrounding buildings. Terracotta doubled over, wheezing, and Hardkour seized the opening. He lunged forward, snatching the moron''s club-arm and wrenching it up behind his back in one smooth motion. The earthen weapon crumbled to dust under Hardkour''s crushing grip, Terracotta''s control faltering as pain overrode his focus. With a deft sweep of his leg, Hardkour took Terracotta''s feet out from under him, sending the idiot crashing face-first to the cracked asphalt. The impact reverberated through the empty street, chunks of the villain''s armor breaking away to puff into clouds of dust. Planting a boot on Terracotta''s back, Hardkour leaned down until his snarling face was inches from the downed cape''s ear. "If you don''t tell me what I wanna know in the next five seconds, I''m gonna snap your fucking arm like a candy cane. We clear?" His grip tightened on Terracotta''s arm, making the guy whimper in fear. Maybe I''m going a bit overboard, but I''m so done with this day. Terracotta trembled beneath him, a pathetic whimper slipping past his lips as Hardkour tightened his grip on the captive limb. "Okay, okay!" the guy yelped, his voice cracking with panic. "I''ll tell you whatever you want, just don''t break my arm, man! Please!" Hardkour straightened up, maintaining his hold on the villain''s twisted arm. Finally, now we''re getting somewhere. "Alright then, start talking. What do you gotta tell?" ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C
Turf Wars: Flames and the Fallen It''s like the worst of a bad horror and action movie mash-up on your doorstep. The Sky Triad and Flying Dragons have unleashed their respective heavy hitters ¡ª Akuma, a fire demon with a flair for murder, and Jiangshi, a killer zombie who''s all brawn. As they turn your turf into an action-packed, flaming nightmare, it''s up to you to strike back. Objective: Defeat Akuma and Jiangshi in a showdown on your territory. Bonus I: Prevent any civilian casualties during your clash. Bonus II: Defeat their two backup members waiting in the wings. Success: 40,000 XP, +10 VIT, Perk: Hard to Kill, +5 to [Pyrokinesis] Bonus I Success: 10,000 XP, + 3 VIT, + 5 STR Bonus I Success: 20,000 XP, + 2 SPD, + 2 STR
LEVEL UP! (36)
Hard to Kill When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Fortifies your resilience against the most dangerous attacks. It significantly reduces the damage from critical hits by toughening your natural defenses.
  • Reduces damage from critical hits by 50%.
Grief 7.8 Grief 7.8 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Sparky felt the hit crack across his jaw, stars bursting in the corner of his vision as his teeth ground together. The blow sent a shockwave rippling through his skull, rattling his brain against the inside of his cranium. He stumbled half a step, the world tilting just enough for adrenaline to scream through his veins. The pain was a sharp, familiar flavor¡ªone he knew well enough to ride out. The metallic taste of blood swirled across his tongue, hot and bitter. It coated his teeth and the inside of his cheeks. Before the man who swung the bat could pull back for another swing, Sparky''s fist shot out, driving deep into his gut like a piston. Cartilage crunched under the impact, the guy''s eyes bulging wide before he folded, legs giving out like they''d been yanked from beneath him. One down, Sparky thought. And only... what, like eight more to go? Fant¨¢stico. Sparky didn''t get the luxury of satisfaction. Movement blurred at the edge of his vision, and he barely spun in time to use the slumped body as a makeshift shield. A tire iron smashed into the man''s limp side with a hollow thunk, the force of it jarring up Sparky''s forearm like an electric shock. Fuck me on a unicycle! The attacker''s snarl met him on the recoil, eyes full of desperate hatred blazing out from a face covered in jailhouse tattoos. Before he could swing again, Sparky snapped a low kick at his kneecap, the joint twisting with a sick pop that sent the man dropping to the gravel, gasping through clenched teeth. "Stay down, bro. Seriously," Sparky muttered, voice hoarse with adrenaline. He pushed off the groaning heap and ducked behind a rusted sedan, sucking in a breath sharp enough to cut. No way these pendejos actually stay down though. His enhanced hearing picked up the crunch of feet on loose stones and the click of a gun being cocked. Mierda. The parking lot was a mess of bouncing shadows and erratic light, the kind of half-dark that twisted everything into something worse, something ominous. Exhaust from a nearby idling truck choked the air, the acrid stench mixing with the salty tang of sweat and the raw, coppery reek of blood. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm blared in jagged bursts, the shrill sound like a relentless needle jammed into Sparky''s ear. He caught a glimpse of Greg perched on top of a streetlight, silhouetted against the harsh glow of the sodium lamps. Hardkour''s red-and-black outfit didn''t need to move for Sparky to know he wasn''t getting involved. He wasn''t even surprised. Greg''s silent watch from above, arms crossed over his chest, was its own kind of judgment¡ªthe unhelpful, smug kind that sank like a rock in Sparky''s gut. He''s judging my one week of experience, fucking dick. "I can''t help you," Sparky muttered, parroting Greg''s words from earlier through gritted teeth. It came out like a snarl as he blocked a wild swing with his forearm, the tire iron''s impact rattling his bones despite the three layers of padded tracksuit. "All on you." The goon staggered back, and Sparky wasted no time. His return kick thudded into the Nazi''s chest with a sick, satisfying force, sending him sprawling onto the cracked asphalt. Enjoy the nap, cabr¨®n. "This is your own fight." The echo of Greg''s words twisted in his head like a barb, a niggling reminder that he was pretty much on his own out here. No fucking kidding, Sherlock. Behind him, gravel skittered¡ªa warning too late. Pain shot up his spine as a bat slammed into his back, driving him to the ground with a gasp that punched the air from his lungs. His palms scraped raw against the rough grit as boots descended, sharp and fast, like a hailstorm of steel-toed fury. The first kick jarred his ribs, a bright flare of agony that made him see stars; the second cracked against his temple, spinning everything into white noise. Son of a bitch! They dogpiled on top of him, fists and feet a brutal rhythm that threatened to beat him into the ground as they shouted various slurs and curses Sparky didn''t even bother listening to. He bit down on the shout crawling up his throat, tasting more blood as he twisted onto his side and caught a leg mid-swing. The muscles in his arms burned as he yanked hard, throwing the attacker off balance long enough to punch upward with every ounce of strength he could muster. Knuckles met jaw with a satisfying snap, and the pressure lifted for a heartbeat¡ªjust enough for Sparky to suck in a desperate breath. He rolled to his feet in a half-lunge, shoving one of the men back into the hood of a compact car with enough force to shatter the glass. The sound of the car alarm blared to life, a shrill, erratic screech that rattled Sparky''s enhanced hearing. Sweat streaked down his face, stinging his eyes and mixing with the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He could feel the slow throb of bruises blooming across his ribs, each breath a jagged pull that sent spikes of pain lancing through his chest. The Empire crew hesitated now, their bravado thinning like smoke in the wind. What''s the matter, pendejos? Not so tough when your punching bag punches back? Sparky''s lip curled into a bitter grin, a feral thing full of bloodstained teeth and dark promise. "Come on, you started this." The words rasped out of his throat, rough and biting. Now, that wasn''t technically true. Sparky had walked into the parking lot, hood up and mask on, loudly insulting various mothers and sisters in multiple ways that was unsurprisingly met with violence. Not my fault these dumbasses have no sense of humor. Still, he wasn''t the one to throw the first punch. Wait¡­ Actually, he might have been¡­ yeah, now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure he''d cracked that first guy across the jaw as soon as the bat came out. Whoops. Eh. He snorted to himself as he rolled his shoulders, feeling the pop and crackle of his joints settling back into place. The pain was already fading, his enhanced healing kicking in to knit together the worst of the damage. Fuck it. A few exchanged looks, weighing numbers against that sharp glint of eagerness in his eyes visible above the mouth mask. Sparky could practically see the gears turning in their thick skulls, trying to calculate the odds. Come on, fuckshits. I ain''t got all night. One stepped back, his hands raised in a half-hearted gesture of surrender; another followed, slinking back into the shadows like a whipped dog. Smart move, dumbasses. The group thinned, a wary semicircle of faces caught between rage and second thoughts. Sparky planted his feet, muscles coiling as he rose from his crouch, and grabbed the closest man by the shirt collar. He grinned, a feral flash of teeth behind the black fabric of his mask. "Leaving so soon, hermano? But we were just getting started!" He yanked hard, using the momentum to swing the guy into the side of a dented sedan. Metal crumpled, a side mirror shattered, and the man''s body folded awkwardly against it, out cold before he even hit the ground. Sparky didn''t let go of the grip, using the split second to whip around and catch the two closing in from his left with a glare that promised no mercy. You want some too? They faltered, hesitation flickering across their faces like a stutter in a film reel. Just a half-step, but it was enough. Gotcha. His muscles coiled, every part of him a tight spring ready to snap. The scent of exhaust filled his nose, sharp and acrid, mixing with the coppery tang of blood and the sour reek of fear. He could hear the scrape of gravel behind him and spun just in time to dodge a machete''s gleam slicing past his ear. The whoosh of it sent a chill up his spine, the cold kiss of steel a hair''s breadth from his skin. His elbow shot up, meeting the attacker''s temple with a crunch that vibrated up his arm. No time to see if he crumpled¡ªSparky twisted, ducking under a bat''s arc that came inches from cracking his skull like an overripe melon. The wind of it grazed his neck, a whisper of what could have been. Too close. Way too close. He felt the give of muscle and bone as he launched a knee into one man''s ribcage, heard the muffled snap beneath the ragged shout as the man slumped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. The other swung wildly with a bat, panic making his aim sloppy, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. Sparky sidestepped the clumsy attack, grabbed the weapon mid-swing, and yanked the bat from the man''s hands. He drove it back into his shoulder with brutal precision, feeling the crunch of the joint giving way. The man''s scream split the night, sharp and ragged, a sound that would have made Sparky wince if he hadn''t been riding the high of adrenaline and pain. Headlights cut through the darkness as someone scrambled into an old SUV, tires screeching as they fled, leaving their fallen comrades behind. Typical Empire loyalty. Bunch of fucking cowards. Sparky stood in the middle of the lot, chest heaving, eyes darting over the wreck of blood, broken glass, and bodies. I did this. Me. He met Greg''s gaze one last time, the weight of his friend''s stare heavy even from a distance. "This was..." Sparky muttered, more to himself than anything, the words a rough rasp in his throat. My fight. My choice. My consequences. "Mine." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ? Greg watched from his perch atop the streetlight, body coiled like a spring as his eyes tracked every movement below. The parking lot had transformed into something straight out of a Mortal Kombat stage ¨C minus the dramatic lighting and plus about twenty unconscious neo-Nazis sprawled across car hoods and concrete. A grin spread beneath his mask as he observed his friend''s handiwork. Blood smears decorated vehicle panels like abstract art, and various weapons ¨C brass knuckles, chains, even what looked like a machete ¨C lay scattered across the asphalt like dropped loot in a beat-em-up game. "Yeah, it was yours," Greg finally called down, unable to keep the amusement from his voice as he watched Sparky catch his breath, "and you did okay, honestly." He launched himself from the streetlight, dropping down into what he hoped looked like an appropriately superhero-ish landing. His boots hit the ground with a satisfying thud that sent small vibrations up his legs. Perfect three-point landing. Definitely nailed the Alexandria pose there. Sparky remained hunched over several feet away, hands braced on his knees as he sucked in air like it was going out of style. Even through the black mouth mask, Greg could practically see his friend''s scowl ¨C that particular mix of ''I just went through hell'' and ''but I''d do it again'' that seemed to be Sparky''s default expression these days. Something about the whole scene ¨C his normally laid-back friend standing amid a sea of groaning racists while looking ready to spit blood ¨C struck Greg as absolutely hilarious. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. He couldn''t resist. Bringing his hands together in an exaggerated slow clap that echoed through the lot, Greg drawled, "Solid work, Apex. I''d give it, oh, I dunno... maybe a seven out of ten? Definitely room for improvement." The look Sparky shot him could have curdled milk. One eyebrow rose above his friend''s now-golden eyes in that uniquely Sparky way that managed to convey ''are you fucking kidding me?'' without a single word. Despite the beating he''d clearly taken ¨C Greg could spot at least three forming bruises and what looked like brass knuckle imprints on his friend''s jaw ¨C Sparky managed to sound perfectly deadpan as he replied through his mask, "Wow. A whole seven? Don''t spoil me, dude." Greg made a show of surveying the carnage, head tilting as he counted bodies. Let''s see... three by the pickup truck, another five spread across those sedans, and ¨C oh hey, that guy actually made it onto the roof of that Civic. Impressive distance. "Just being real," he said, gesturing expansively at their surroundings. "I mean, you got the job done¡­ but, hey, all I''m saying is maybe try a little more... finesse? You kinda went for ''wrecking ball meets pi?ata'' instead of, like, precision combat. Not your best work." Greg started walking, waving for Sparky to keep up. No point staying for cops to find them or people to take pics. Apex ain''t debut-ready. Not with an off-the-rack costume. The scoff Sparky let out was pure attitude as he finally straightened up and hurried after him, though looking back, Greg didn''t miss how his hands kept flexing and unflexing, like they were itching for something else to hit. "Dude, I just took on half a neo-Nazi meetup with no help. Forgive me if I didn''t look like a freakin'' Jedi out there." "Sure, sure." Greg crossed his arms, letting his smirk carry through his voice even if Sparky couldn''t see it behind the mask. He came to a stop as they crossed the street in another parking lot, this one empty, an alley entryway just down the street. "But I''m just saying, for the future, a little less flailing, a little more footwork¡­" He paused for dramatic effect, watching Sparky''s eye twitch. "Might save you some bruises next time." The eye roll Sparky gave him was Olympic-worthy. Still, Greg caught the slight quirk at the corner of his mouth ¨C that tiny tell that meant Sparky knew he had a point but would rather eat glass than admit it. "Okay, sensei perfectionist. Next time, you''re taking point, and I''ll sit pretty up on the light pole." Greg opened his mouth, ready to point out that Sparky''s current strategy of ''block punches with face'' could use some refinement, when every nerve in his body suddenly screamed danger. The sensation hit like an electric shock up his spine, that familiar pre-combat buzz cranked up to eleven. He didn''t even think ¨C his body was already moving, muscle memory and enhanced reflexes working faster than conscious thought. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Sparky''s midsection in a tackle that would have made a pro footballer proud. They hit the ground hard, Greg''s hand instinctively pressing Sparky''s head down as intense heat suddenly filled the air. A massive yellow energy blast ripped through the space they''d just occupied, the concussive force sending chunks of pulverized concrete raining down around them. Beneath him, Sparky let out a pained groan. "What...?" "Fuck," Greg muttered, pushing up on his elbows as his combat senses went into overdrive. Way too much power for some random cape. Has to be someone serious. Sparky blinked up at him, clearly still processing what just happened. "What... What was that?" Greg rolled to his feet in one smooth motion, eyes already searching for the source of the attack. His voice was grim as he replied, "We''re about to find out." Through the settling cloud of pulverized concrete and asphalt dust, two figures materialized like characters loading into a cutscene. Greg''s enhanced vision picked out details through the haze ¨C though honestly, these guys weren''t exactly trying for subtlety. The whole entrance screamed "main antagonist reveal," complete with dramatic lighting from the remaining functional street lamps casting long shadows across the debris-strewn lot. His eyes locked first on the taller one, a walking recruitment poster in powder-blue and pristine white. The bodysuit looked military-grade, all reinforced panels and tactical webbing arranged with the kind of precision that screamed "I iron my socks." Not a wrinkle in sight, not even where the fabric stretched over impressive musculature. The full-face mask completed the look ¨C smooth, expressionless, probably bulletproof knowing the type. Definitely the kind of guy who color-codes his protein shakes, Greg thought, fighting back a snort. The contrast with his partner was so stark it had to be intentional. Where Mr. Perfect looked fresh off the assembly line, this guy seemed to have stumbled out of a 90s cop drama marathon. The blue blazer hanging open like he''d just finished interrogating suspects in a smoky room somewhere, that half-Windsor knot barely holding his tie together ¨C everything about him screamed "loose cannon who doesn''t play by the rules." Those wraparound visor shades probably cost as much as his usual outfit normally, but somehow managed to look exactly like something you''d impulse-buy at a gas station. Even his stubble seemed calculated, like he''d spent twenty minutes getting it to look exactly that disheveled. A few chunks of asphalt clattered down nearby, punctuating the moment as Armsmaster''s more straight-laced cousin took a measured step forward. His posture was parade-ground perfect, probably practiced that stance in front of a mirror. When he spoke, his voice was pure gravel and authority, the kind of tone that expected immediate compliance: "Kid, you better surrender now." "Save yourselves a lot of pain ¡ª and us the trouble of delivering it," grumbled the other one. The words hit Greg like a match to gasoline. Every muscle in his body tensed, hands clenching into fists at his sides as irritation blazed through his system. The sheer audacity of it ¨C these guys had opened with what was basically a tactical nuke, and now they wanted to play Good Cop, Bad Cop? Though honestly, Greg mused through his rising anger, they''re more like Stick-Up-His-Ass Cop and Midlife Crisis Cop. He let out a scoff that carried all the teenage disdain he could muster, deliberately crossing his arms in a pose he''d definitely not practiced in his bedroom mirror. Even with his mask hiding his expression, he made sure his body language broadcast exactly how unimpressed he was with this whole situation. "Uh-huh. So, just to be clear, you''re the ones who come out guns blazing and expect us to just... what? Respond reasonably?" Greg caught the twitch at the corner of Blazer-Guy''s mouth as the words left his mouth ¡ª that millisecond-long tell of someone trying not to laugh. For a heartbeat, he thought maybe they could dial this whole situation down from "imminent violence" to just "severe antagonism." But one glance at his partner crushed that hope. Mask-Man stood like a statue, radiating the kind of rigid intensity that suggested he probably alphabetized his sock drawer. No humor, no annoyance. Just that same unyielding brick wall energy. "This isn''t a negotiation," Mask-Man declared, voice as flat and cold as a concrete slab. "We''re here for you, kid. Just you. Now, you can either cooperate and we''ll let your friend go, or we''ll bring you in the hard way. Your choice." A sharp snort escaped Greg as he darted a look toward Sparky. His friend had finally managed to get vertical, brushing concrete dust off his costume with quick, agitated movements. Sparky looked like he was halfway between fuming and laughing, and honestly, Greg couldn''t blame him. Greg''s danger sense continued to pulse steadily at the base of his skull, a constant reminder that these guys weren''t jokes. Whatever that energy blast had been, it had packed enough punch to liquefy asphalt. Still, he couldn''t help himself. "Oh, right, the hard way," he drawled, making sure his eye roll came through in his voice. "Because blowing up the parking lot was just you guys taking it easy, right?" Blazer-Guy''s face finally cracked into something resembling actual human emotion. He adjusted those ridiculous shades with one hand, somehow managing to make the gesture look both casual and vaguely menacing. "Look, kid, you can make this easy on yourself. Neither of you has to get hurt. Like he said, we don''t even want your buddy over there. Just come with us, no fuss. Think of it as... cutting out the middleman." The grin he flashed had too many teeth to be friendly. The sheer audacity of it made Greg''s jaw clench beneath his mask. His heart rate kicked up another notch, combat instincts whispering that this was about to get real ugly, real fast. "Cutting out the middleman? Dude, you just dropped a bomb on us." Mask-Man took another measured step forward, moving with the kind of precision that screamed ''trained fighter.'' His focus locked onto Greg like a targeting system, almost without anything close to normal human emotion. "Last warning, kid. Either you come quietly, or we''ll bring you in by force. You can choose the method." Greg could feel his pulse thrumming in his ears, the danger sense in his head still buzzing faintly, like his whole body was on high alert. He gave sparky a quick side-eye, catching the brief glint in his friend''s eyes that said he was game to do this the messy way. Greg exhaled, jaw set as he drew in a steady breath, tasting concrete dust and ozone. "Force, huh?" He let just enough edge creep into his voice to make sure they caught his meaning. "Well, I''m guessing no one told you, but that''s kinda my style."
Capture or Casualty Two new cape mercenaries have arrived with one goal: to bag you, dead or alive. Interestingly, they''re pulling their punches¡ªa sign they''d prefer to drag you back breathing. But whether it''s chains or a coffin they''re offering, you''re not buying. It''s time to teach these mercs that you''re not an easy target, and their restraint might just be their downfall. Objective: Defeat the two new cape mercenaries attempting to capture you. Success: 30,000 XP, +5 to [Mana Bolt].
Grief 7.8b Grief 7.8b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Analyze. Analyze.
Bash Brother HP: 750/750 Trait: Vector-Field Cohesion
Bash Brother HP: 250/250 Trait: Photoluminary Detonation Matrix
Hardkour''s fists clenched instinctively as he stepped forward, that familiar heat building beneath his skin like a kettle about to boil. The parking lot had become an arena, abandoned cars casting long shadows under flickering street lights, the air thick with concrete dust and the acrid smell of scorched asphalt. His enhanced senses picked up every detail ¨C the subtle shift of Quantum''s weight, the low hum of energy gathering around Woody''s hands. Quantum stood like a fortress in blue and white, radiating the kind of controlled power that spoke of years of training. His brother was his opposite in every way ¨C Woody practically bounced on his heels, yellow energy dancing between his fingers like a cat''s cradle made of lightning. The casual display made Hardkour''s jaw clench tighter, his patience wearing thinner with each passing second. He didn''t give them time to monologue. Drawing in a sharp breath that tasted of ozone and burned rubber, Hardkour exploded forward. His boots hit the pavement in rapid succession as he closed the distance, body automatically settling into the foundational stance his power had drilled into muscle memory. Keep it tight, keep it simple ¨C just like training. He zeroed in on Woody first, hands up in a boxer''s guard, looking for that perfect opening. Woody''s grin only widened as Hardkour approached, his fingers twirling an orb of crackling energy with casual disregard. "C''mon, kid, you gotta try harder than that!" The man''s laughter grated against Hardkour''s ears as he suddenly snapped his wrist forward, launching the energy sphere with deadly precision. The orb cut through the air like a miniature sun, trailing golden light that cast strange shadows across the lot. Hardkour''s instincts screamed as he pivoted hard, concrete crumbling under his heel. He felt the heat of the blast pass his shoulder close enough to singe, the air crackling with displaced energy. The explosion behind him sent a pressure wave that nearly knocked him off balance, but he recovered in a fluid motion, already tracking Woody''s movements. The scruffy merc was already forming another orb, tossing it between his hands with the casual air of a street performer. Each pass left afterimages in the air, like a deadly light show. Hardkour''s muscles coiled as he analyzed the pattern, waiting for the perfect moment. It reminded him of Sundancer''s powers, only smaller and faster. He slipped into a modified fighting stance, power humming through his limbs as he burst forward again. This time, his fist found its mark. Knuckles drove into Woody''s solar plexus with a satisfying impact that reverberated up Hardkour''s arm. The blow knocked the energy wielder back several steps, his latest orb dissolving into sparks as his concentration shattered. But instead of doubling over in pain, Woody actually laughed ¨C a genuine belly laugh that made Hardkour''s blood pressure spike. The merc clutched his stomach, still chuckling like they were sharing some private joke. "Got some sting, don''t ya?" A shimmering wall of azure energy materialized between Hardkour and his target, the barrier springing up faster than thought. His momentum carried him straight into it, the impact sending vibrations through his bones as electricity sparked involuntarily from his hands, dancing across the translucent surface like lightning on glass. The forcefield hummed with contained power, giving off a faint ozone smell that mixed with the lingering scent of scorched asphalt. "Speed doesn''t count for much if you can''t get through," Quantum remarked, his tone carrying all the enthusiasm of a DMV clerk checking licenses. The man''s crossed arms and rigid posture radiated smugness even through the tactical suit. The streetlights caught the edges of his armor, turning him into a living sculpture of blue and white whose image was stained on the bright sapphire plane in front of him. Rage surged through Hardkour''s veins, hot and electric. Power crackled along his arms as he chambered a punch, letting the energy build until his fist glowed with white-hot potential. The air around him ionized, making his hair stand on end beneath his mask. The blow crashed against the barrier with a thunderclap of discharged power, sending concentric ripples of force across its surface like waves in a pool. For just a moment, Quantum''s perfect posture faltered. A slight tremor in the barrier, barely perceptible but *there* ¨C like spiderweb cracks in bulletproof glass. Hardkour pressed his advantage, driving another electrically-charged strike into the same spot. The impact jarred up his arm, but he caught Quantum''s minute flinch, saw the way the man''s shoulders tensed with effort. Each hit sent cascading waves of energy through the forcefield, creating interference patterns that lit up the parking lot like a twisted light show. The barrier held, but it was straining, like a dam developing hairline cracks under mounting pressure. Movement flashed in his peripheral vision ¨C a black-clad figure streaking across the lot with frightening speed. Sparky, still running hot from his earlier fights, launched himself at Quantum''s shield with the kind of reckless abandon that made Hardkour''s heart skip. His friend''s golden eyes gleamed in the darkness, reflecting the electric discharge still dancing across the barrier''s surface. "Apex, get back!" The warning tore from his throat, but it was already too late. The words hadn''t even finished echoing off the surrounding buildings before everything went sideways. The barrier vanished like it had never existed. Quantum''s hand shot out, snagging Sparky''s collar mid-leap with practiced ease. The merc pivoted, using Sparky''s own momentum to send him flying. The sound of his friend hitting the pavement and skidding across broken concrete sent fresh anger coursing through Hardkour''s system. Each scrape and bounce felt like sandpaper on his nerves. Quantum barely spared a glance at Sparky''s prone form before turning back, radiating disdain through his mask. The streetlight caught the edge of his visor, turning it into a mirror that reflected Hardkour''s own crackling energy back at him. "You kids really don''t get it, do you?" Instead of answering, Hardkour reached deep, pulling electricity through his body until it hummed in his bones. The power manifested as crackling coronas around his fists, casting sharp shadows across the lot. His hands tingled with contained energy, like holding onto live wires. The air around him became charged, making nearby pieces of debris shift and crackle with static electricity. He exploded forward, closing distance in a heartbeat. When Quantum raised another barrier, Hardkour was ready. He twisted around the edge of the forcefield, keeping his movements economical, precise. Months of combat and enhanced muscle memory guided each step as he slipped past the merc''s defenses. His electrically-charged fist drove straight into Quantum''s chest plate with a satisfying crack of discharged power, the impact sending arcs of electricity crawling across the other merc''s armor. The mercenary grunted but didn''t fold. Hardkour followed through with two more strikes, each impact releasing a burst of electrical energy that lit up the night like camera flashes. But something was wrong. Instead of dropping, Quantum''s stance widened, grew more stable. Each hit seemed to feed into him somehow, and Hardkour felt his own power being drawn out, pulled away even as his blows connected. The electricity that should have been shocking his opponent was being absorbed, redirected, transformed. What the fuck? "You done yet?" Quantum''s voice carried that special kind of condescension unique to adults who thought they knew better. The smirk was audible even through his mask, and it made Hardkour''s blood sing with rage. Streetlight glinted off his pristine armor, unmarred despite the intensity of their exchange. A flash of movement was his only warning before Woody materialized on his flank, moving with the casual grace of a veteran showman. The energy orb left his fingers like a fastball, its golden trail cutting through the darkness like a comet. Hardkour twisted away, but the explosion caught him anyway, its concussive force sending him staggering across broken concrete. The world tilted sideways for a moment, his enhanced senses overwhelmed by the combination of searing light and thunderous sound. The taste of copper filled his mouth as his teeth clicked together from the impact. "Man, you''re giving us a workout, kid," Woody called out, adjusting his visor with an almost theatrical flourish. His tone carried genuine appreciation, like a coach impressed by a rookie''s first game. Energy danced between his fingers as he spoke, casting his face in an ever-shifting pattern of light and shadow. "Usually, we don''t play this nice with villains." The word ''villains'' hit harder than any of their attacks. Quantum''s forcefield pulsed with renewed strength as Woody circled, launching orbs in a precise pattern that forced Hardkour to constantly adjust his position. The blasts weren''t random ¨C they were herding him, controlling the battlefield with practiced efficiency. Every dodge brought him closer to Quantum''s reach, every sidestep put him in Woody''s line of fire. The air crackled with contained energy, making Hardkour''s skin tingle even through his costume. Gritting his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache, Hardkour charged in. He weaved through Woody''s barrage, each near-miss raising the hair on his arms and leaving afterimages burned in his vision. Dropping low, he slid under Quantum''s guard, driving his fist into the mercenary''s side with enough force to crack concrete. The impact reverberated up his arm, but Quantum merely shifted his weight, absorbing the blow like it was nothing more than a love tap. The merc''s forcefield flickered briefly, absorbing and redirecting the energy in a display that lit up the entire parking lot. Before Hardkour could press his advantage, Woody was there, his kick coming in high and fast. The blow caught Hardkour''s shoulder, not even hurting him but knocking him off balance just enough for Quantum to counter. The merc''s armored fist descended like a hammer, and Hardkour barely got his guard up in time. The block sent shockwaves through his arms, forcing him back several steps as his boots scraped against broken asphalt, leaving gouges in the concrete. "Still holding up?" Woody''s taunt came with another orb, this one detonating behind Hardkour with devastating precision. The pressure wave felt like getting hit by a car, driving the air from his lungs as he fought to maintain his footing. Heat washed over him in a wave, singeing the edges of his costume. "Better than you think," Hardkour gritted out, voice barely above a growl. The brothers circled him, their movements precise, almost choreographed. Woody darted through the darkness, golden energy trailing from his hands like comet tails, while Quantum''s forcefields shimmered in geometric patterns that caught and reflected the streetlights. The air itself seemed to pulse with contained power, making Hardkour''s teeth vibrate with each resonant blast. Another energy orb screamed through the air, forcing Hardkour to duck and roll. The movement brought him straight into Quantum''s range, the mercenary''s armored fist cutting through the space where Hardkour''s head had been a split second before. The rush of displaced air ruffled his hair through the mask, carrying the sharp ozone smell of Woody''s energy attacks. Electricity sparked weakly around Hardkour''s knuckles as he readied himself for another exchange. Woody''s next orb came in hot, larger than before, crackling with unstable energy that cast wild shadows across the lot. Hardkour''s body moved on instinct, twisting away from the blast radius. The detonation sent a wave of superheated air washing over him, kicking up clouds of concrete dust. He pushed through it, channeling the momentum into a sharp jab at Quantum''s exposed side. His fist connected with satisfying force, the young vigilante holding back the electricity under his skin and grinning widely as the man let out an actual grunt of pain. "Okay, we done here?" Woody called out, his casual tone belied by the precise way he positioned himself, another orb already forming between his fingers. This one was compact, dense with contained power, moving faster than the others. Hardkour dropped low, feeling the heat pass over him as he rolled clear of Quantum''s follow-up strike. Every near-miss, every blocked hit was starting to wear on him ¨C not physically, but still¡­ Pushing up from his roll, Hardkour launched a right hook at Woody''s smug face. The cape slipped the punch like he''d seen it coming a mile away, that infuriating grin never wavering. "This kid fights kinda fair for a villain," Woody remarked to his brother, eyes never leaving Hardkour. "Thought he had fire? What''s with the taser-fists?" The question made Hardkour''s jaw clench. Fire. His trump card, the power that could turn this parking lot into ground zero. But with Sparky still down somewhere in the chaos? The risk wasn''t worth it. His friend had taken enough hits tonight. "Maybe he''s out of lighter-fluid." Quantum''s voice rumbled with quiet amusement, like he was sharing an inside joke. His mask tilted slightly, studying Hardkour with clinical interest. "Or maybe he''s just holding back." Frustration burned in Hardkour''s chest, but he kept his eyes locked on Quantum''s mask, searching for any tell of their next move. "Trust me," he bit out, forcing confidence into his voice, "I''ve got plenty left." The words tasted like a challenge, defiance rising up to replace his earlier uncertainty. If they wanted to see what he could really do, fine. He''d show them. His body dropped into a fighting stance automatically, movements becoming sharper, more focused as he centered himself. No more playing around. He jabbed at Quantum, then twisted, throwing an elbow aimed at Woody''s ribs. Woody twisted aside, his movements casual, almost lazy, as if he had all the time in the world. Greg''s teeth ground together in frustration, but he didn''t have the time to dwell on it. Greg''s fists sparked to life, electricity surging through his veins like a second pulse. The empty parking lot had turned into a dangerous, chaotic light show¡ªWoody''s golden orbs streaked through the air, leaving phosphene trails in Greg''s vision, while Quantum''s blue shields bathed the asphalt in an eerie glow. Long shadows stretched and flickered across the ground, shifting with every explosion. Greg drove his fist into one of Quantum''s shields, the electrically charged strike scraping against the barrier with a sharp crack. Quantum staggered back, another forcefield snapping into place just in time to block the third follow-up strike. Yet again, Greg''s knuckles connected with the new barrier, the charge bursting through with an ear-splitting crack. So that was the trick! Quantum seemed unfazed by the electrick punches, but his barriers? Not so much. Quantum''s shields were strong, but Greg''s electricity carved through them like a buzzsaw, each punch blowing apart the shimmering defenses. The tension in the air grew heavier with every strike, the ground beneath them trembling with each clash. Static crackled across the pavement, and Greg''s hair bristled beneath his mask.
Lv 34 Electro (Minor) Lv Up!
"Not bad," Woody called out, rolling his shoulders with theatrical flair. Another energy sphere materialized between his fingers, more condensed than the others. The sphere pulsed and shifted in his palm like a miniature sun. "But you''re gonna have to try harder than that!" He hurled it with a flick of his fingers. Hardkour ducked low, the blast screaming past his ear and detonating behind him in a burst of heat and force. The shockwave rocked the parking lot, scattering debris and forcing Greg to roll forward into a crouch. A quick glance showed his shoulder singed, the costume blackened and torn where the blast had grazed him. The acrid stench of burnt fabric filled his nose, but he shoved it aside. Stay focused. Stay moving. His body fell into a rhythm¡ªmeasured footwork, controlled breaths, staying close enough to force them into mistakes. Woody was fast, but ranged attacks were riskier in close quarters. Quantum, though, was adapting. The next time Hardkour shattered one of his barriers, Quantum stepped forward, letting the remaining charge arc across his body. Electricity crackled over his blue-and-white suit, drawn into controlled pulses. Greg''s chest tightened. "Ah, figured it out, huh?" Quantum''s voice was calm, even amused. He dismissed his shields with a gesture, letting his hands drop to his sides. "Go ahead. Hit me again. I dare you." Greg''s fists clenched tighter, sparks dancing along his knuckles. Don''t take the bait. He pivoted, aiming a reinforced punch at Quantum''s side, careful to suppress the electricity remaining in his swing. The blow connected with a satisfying thud, the force knocking the mercenary back a step. But Quantum only chuckled, rolling his shoulder as if brushing off the hit. "What''s wrong? Your punches getting soft?" Hardkour threw another blow, this time at Quantum''s chest. The merc dodged slightly, forcing Greg to adjust his angle mid-swing. The move disrupted his concentration just enough for a faint electric charge to spark back to life on his fist. His knuckles connected, and the electricity jumped instantly to Quantum''s body. The crackle of stolen power filled the air as Quantum''s armor absorbed the charge, blue arcs flaring across his chest. Greg cursed under his breath, stepping back sharply. Quantum grinned beneath his mask. "Thanks for the boost, kid." "Yeah, you''re welcome. Just keep standing there like a punching bag, see how long that lasts," Greg shot back, his voice sharp as he circled to reposition. His fists sparked to life again, glowing brighter, the charge wild and volatile. He focused, forcing himself to calm the energy. No more mistakes. Keep the electricity for the shields. Normal hits for him. Woody flanked from the side, tossing another golden orb that arced low. Hardkour sidestepped it, the explosion rattling the ground behind him. Woody flashed a grin, darting to the top of a wrecked car for a better angle. "Gotta keep up, Hardkour!" Woody called, his tone sing-song and infuriatingly cocky. Hardkou lunged toward Quantum, fists blazing. Another shield snapped up between them, but his electrically charged punch tore through it, sending a crackling shockwave outwards. He followed with a second strike, smashing the remnants of the field, and drove his knee toward Quantum''s ribs. Quantum reacted too slowly this time, the knee slamming into his side with a solid thud. He grunted, staggering back, but Greg''s satisfaction was short-lived as another barrier shimmered into place. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Greg''s jaw tightened as Quantum regained his balance, the blue glow of his armor now brighter than before. Every misstep is just giving him more juice. Can''t use fire because there''s not enough force behind it to actually get past the barrier ¡ª not without going crazy with it and Sparky''s still around¡­ somewhere¡­ "Not bad," Quantum said, the mocking edge in his tone cutting through the tension. "But you''re still not hitting hard enough." "Don''t worry," Greg shot back, electricity flaring at his fists again. "I''m just warming up." "Honestly¡­" Quantum''s voice dripped with mockery, the hint of a smirk visible beneath his mask. Stolen electricity crackled across his armor in controlled arcs. "I doubt it." His counterattack came like a freight train, the displaced air alone enough to make Hardkour''s ears pop as he barely twisted clear. The punch left a small crater where it connected with the ground, sending spider-web cracks through the concrete. There was no time to respond. Woody had already repositioned, moving with that annoying, stop-motion, zippy speed, golden orbs of energy arcing from his fingers like angry fireflies. They shot through the air in a precise pattern, detonating in bursts that forced Greg to constantly adjust his footing. Each explosion sent out concussive waves that rippled through the vacant lot, leaving Greg no choice but to keep moving. Every near-miss raised the hair on his arms, each golden flash searing itself into his retinas. It wasn''t random, not by a long shot. These two have definitely done this before. Woody''s attacks weren''t designed to land directly¡ªthey were like chess moves, pushing Greg into Quantum''s range. Every detonation carved the battlefield into smaller and smaller spaces, herding him toward the human fortress. Then came the hammer blow. A larger orb hovered behind Greg for a split second before detonating with a crack that felt like the world splitting open. The shockwave slammed into him like a freight train, hurling him forward with dizzying force. He couldn''t stop himself from careening straight into Quantum''s waiting grip. The mercenary''s hands closed around Greg''s collar like a vice, his strength casual but overwhelming. Greg barely had time to react before Quantum lifted him like a rag doll and slammed him into the ground. The impact hit like a sledgehammer, vibrations ricocheting through Greg''s skull as his head bounced off the asphalt. Stars exploded behind his eyes, the edges of his vision flickering like static on a broken screen. It took pure, stubborn will to keep himself conscious. "Usually, we don''t play this nice with villains," Woody remarked conversationally, adjusting his visor with casual disregard. His smirk held an edge of genuine amusement, like this was all some entertaining diversion. Golden energy continued to dance between his fingers, casting strange shadows across his face. "But you? You''re lucky we''re in a good mood." Hardkour pushed himself up, spitting blood onto the cracked pavement. His skull throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but he forced his voice to stay steady. Each breath tasted like copper and concrete dust. "Oh yeah? Guess I should be flattered, huh?" Electric energy coursed down his arms as he straightened, centering himself. "More like grateful," Quantum replied, his tone carrying that particular brand of condescension reserved for unruly children. His shield flickered to life as he stepped forward, the barrier humming with stolen power. Light from nearby streetlamps bent around the forcefield, creating prismatic distortions in the air. "Not every day a kid gets a free pass." "I''m not just a kid," Greg muttered, his voice low but steady. His eyes flicked between the brothers, analyzing their movements, their habits. Quantum was predictable, always anchoring himself with those shields, relying on his absorption to shrug off hits. Woody, though¡ªhe was a problem. Constantly moving, using his brother''s position as an anchor point for his attacks. Break that synergy, disrupt their rhythm and... Hardkour surged forward without hesitation, his movements a blur of speed. Woody''s swing came fast, glowing gold with energy, but Greg slipped under it, his body twisting with practiced precision. His momentum carried him straight into Quantum, his fist driving into the mercenary''s shielded ribs¡­ Only for the shield to vanish. Electricity arced from Hardkour''s knuckles on impact, crackling along Quantum''s armor, and disappearing into the mercenary''s suit with barely a flicker. Quantum didn''t even flinch, his infuriating stoicism intact. Greg didn''t have time to process the frustration before Woody closed the gap again, moving like liquid. His kick came up in a blur of blue-tinged energy, aimed high and fast. Hardkour raised his arms just in time, the impact rattling his bones as he absorbed the hit. He stepped back, resetting his footing as Woody circled like a predator, golden energy swirling at his fingertips. "That all you got?" Woody taunted, his grin widening. "C''mon, kid, you''re embarrassing yourself."
Lv 9
Quantum''s fist drove into Greg''s raised arm, the force of the blow traveling up his bones like a shockwave. It was the kind of hit that made your whole skeleton feel like it was vibrating. Greg slid back across the cracked asphalt, his boots skidding, but Surface Adhesion kept him grounded. His teeth clenched behind his mask as he reset his stance, every nerve in his arm screaming in protest. Quantum''s forcefield pulsed faintly, a low hum that rose and fell with the rhythm of their fight, like some alien heartbeat. Each time Hardkour slipped past one of their attacks, the next was already there, perfectly timed, interlocking like a machine. It wasn''t just two people fighting; it was a system, and Greg was caught in the gears. "C''mon, kid," Woody called, bouncing lightly on his feet as if the fight were just warming up. A fresh orb crackled to life in his hand, sparking and buzzing with barely contained energy. "Show us what you got left!" Greg''s fists tightened, sparks crackling along his knuckles. His chest burned with exhaustion, his body a patchwork of bruises and aches. But the anger, the fire that had been building since the fight began, refused to be smothered. They think I''m just another cape. Another dumb kid with a mask and a bad attitude. Fine. He''d show them who they were really dealing with. With a burst of speed, Hardkour charged forward, his body blurring into motion. Quantum''s shield snapped into place, shimmering blue and impenetrable, but Greg dipped low and slipped past it with practiced precision. Sparks trailed his fists as he drove a flurry of punches at Woody, targeting his ribs and sides. The first strikes landed on empty air as Woody darted back, his movement liquid and infuriating. Then, finally, contact. Greg''s last punch grazed Woody''s side, sending the man staggering slightly. His visor flashed with a faint crack, and for the first time, Woody''s grin faltered.
Lv 10 Beginner Combat Lv Lv Up! Lv 35
"Alright, alright, not bad, kid," Woody said, slowly adjusting his cracked shades with a mocking chuckle. "But you''re gonna have to do better than that." Greg barely caught the blur of motion before Quantum closed in, moving with the inevitability of a freight train. The mercenary was relentless, a fortress wrapped in shimmering energy. A new shield snapped into existence inches from Greg''s face, its surface rippling like disturbed water. The prismatic light scattered across the broken pavement, momentarily dazzling him. Greg slipped left on pure instinct, his body flowing into a defensive stance as his fist shot out, targeting Quantum''s side. The punch connected, but Quantum simply tanked it. Before Greg could react, Quantum countered. The large man''s fist came in like a battering ram, slamming into Greg''s chest with devastating force. The impact sent him spinning, his body bouncing across the broken asphalt like a thrown ragdoll. His vision blurred as his head smacked against the ground, his mouth filling with the sharp, metallic tang of blood. -135 -72 -45
Lv 75
Oh, nice. He spat blood onto the ground and squared his shoulders. Been a while. "You done yet?" Woody asked, his voice light, almost teasing, as he conjured another golden orb. "Or you still got some fight in you?" Something hot and defiant burned in Hardkour''s chest, refusing to stay down. "You wanted more?" Blood dripped from his split lip as he grinned, the expression more feral than friendly. The metallic taste in his mouth only fueled the growing rage. "Fine. I''ll give you everything I''ve got." His fists shook at his sides as he pushed thoughts of Sparky from his mind, focusing entirely on the two mercenaries before him. Woody''s insufferable smirk, Quantum''s robotic composure ¨C both fueled the heat building in his core like a furnace about to blow. His fingers twitched with the urge to unleash it, to let the flames consume everything. The air around him began to shimmer with barely contained power, the temperature rising noticeably even several feet away. His last thread of patience snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight. "Oh, you guys wanna kill me?" The words tore from his throat, echoing across the empty lot with raw fury. The nearby street lights flickered and dimmed as the air temperature spiked around him. "Fine. Fine. Well, you FIRST!" Fire exploded from his palm, white-hot and hungry. The flames wrapped around his arm like a living thing, turning the night into day. The fireball streaked through the air, its trajectory leaving a trail of superheated atmosphere that distorted everything behind it like a highway mirage. Woody''s perpetual smirk vanished as he dove aside, the explosion sending him stumbling. The blast wave shattered nearby windows, showering the ground with glittering fragments. Quantum''s hasty barrier bent inward from the force, blue energy straining against orange flames as cracks of stress appeared in its surface. "I can''t have some peace and quiet?!" Another fireball formed in Hardkour''s hand, twice the size of the first. The heat was intense enough to make the air shimmer around him as he hurled it forward, the asphalt beneath his feet beginning to soften and bubble. It detonated against Quantum''s shield with the force of a small bomb, the concussive wave strong enough to set off nearby car alarms and send loose debris flying in all directions. "You just couldn''t leave me alone?" Woody backpedaled, his visor cracked and askew as Hardkour unleashed a barrage of flames. Each projectile lit up the lot like a miniature sun, casting multiple shadows that danced across broken concrete. The explosions kicked up a storm of dust and debris, filling the air with the acrid smell of burning asphalt and melted metal. Their semi-synchronized movements faltered for the first time, their practiced coordination disrupted by sheer ferocity. "You want my head?" Rage made his voice shake, made his vision tunnel until all he could see were his targets through the heat haze. His hands glowed like forge-hot iron as more flames gathered around them. "Come and take it! I''ve got more where that came from!" "...You''ve got more heads?" "AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" Fire erupted from his hands in a continuous stream, turning the parking lot into ground zero of a personal inferno. The smoke and heat distorted everything, but Hardkour barely noticed the strain in his muscles or the way his costume was starting to singe. The world had narrowed to just him and his targets, everything else falling away in the face of his fury. He was locked in, focused on ending this, on burning them both into nothing if that''s what it took.
Lv 31
A hand clamped down hard on his shoulder, the sudden contact sending a jolt through Hardkour''s combat-ready nerves. "HARDKOUR!" The familiar voice cut through his rage-induced tunnel vision like a bucket of ice water. Greg spun around, fist raised and still crackling with barely contained power, only to lock eyes with Sparky ¨C no, Apex right now ¨C his friend''s golden eyes wide with an urgency that made Hardkour''s stomach drop. "What?" he snapped, blood still rushing in his ears like a freight train, drowning out everything but the thundering pulse of his own fury. Sparky took a cautious step back, hands raised in a placating gesture that only served to irritate Hardkour more. His friend''s costume was still smoking slightly from earlier explosions, the yellow lines barely visible under a layer of concrete dust. "G... bro, stop." The simple command made Hardkour blink, the flames around his fists flickering uncertainly as confusion pierced through his anger like a needle through a balloon. "Wha¡ªno! You don''t get it!" His head whipped around to glare at the two mercenaries. They stood amid the wreckage he''d created, their pristine costumes now gray with dust and marked with scorch patterns. Despite their disheveled appearance, both maintained combat-ready stances. "These are mercenaries, dude. They''re out for my head! They''ve been trying to kill me all week!" Sparky''s expression shifted from concern to shock, his golden eyes widening as the implications sank in. "Wait, what?" Hardkour''s jaw clenched so tight he could hear his teeth creaking, rage surging back as he locked onto his targets again. Fresh flames licked up his arms, casting dancing shadows across the devastated parking lot. "Yeah," he snarled, voice dropping to something dangerous and raw, "and I''m gonna put ''em down first." "Wait!" Sparky launched himself between Hardkour and the mercenaries, arms spread wide in a desperate blocking maneuver. His eyes darted rapidly between them, reading the tension in the air like a live wire about to spark. The interruption made Hardkour''s blood boil. His teeth ground together as he fought the urge to simply bowl his friend over. "I swear to god¡ª" "Just... just wait." Sparky''s voice carried an edge of desperation as he turned to face the mercenary duo. His stance shifted, becoming more authoritative despite his battered appearance. "You two!" Woody, still fiddling with his cracked visor, gave a casual nod that seemed calculated to appear effortless. "Yeah?" Quantum managed a terse acknowledgment, though Hardkour noticed with savage satisfaction that the hero was favoring one arm, the limb hanging at an angle that suggested significant damage. "What?" Sparky crossed his arms, his golden eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You''re hunting villains, right?" A snort escaped Woody as that insufferable smirk crept back onto his face. "No duh, kid." Sparky jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward Hardkour. "Then why are you after him?" Hardkour felt a smirk tugging at his own lips, appreciation for his friend''s logic momentarily overshadowing his rage. "Yeah, I''m not a villain!" Quantum''s response came flat and immediate, delivered with all the emotion of reading a grocery list. "You''re on record with the PRT, wanted under suspicion for roughly a dozen homicides." The accusation made Hardkour''s jaw drop. "Of gang members!" The words came out half-incredulous, half-outraged. His hands still smoldered, small flames dancing between his fingers. "Terrorists!" Woody raised an eyebrow above his damaged visor, his shrug deliberately casual. "Cool motive. Still murder." Hardkour muttered wordlessly under his breath, barely suppressing the urge to throw another fireball just for emphasis. He took a measured step forward, heat still radiating from his hands in waves that distorted the air. "Okay, but why are all of you guys trying to hunt me down like this? Vigilante justice or something? ''Cause some of these guys after me are straight-up killers." The parking lot around them was a wasteland of scorched concrete and melted asphalt, testament to just how close Greg had come to actually ending them too. Sparky nodded beside him, arms crossed as he fixed the mercenaries with that particular stare of his that made most people deeply uncomfortable. "Yeah, what''s the deal?" Quantum''s sigh carried the weight of someone who''d rather be anywhere else in the world. Even through his mask, his exhaustion was palpable. "Because there''s a Two Hundred and Fifty Thousand dollar bounty on his head. Dead or alive. If dead, posted online for the full price. If alive, dropped at the local PRT for half the bounty." The words hit Hardkour like a physical blow, shock cutting through his remaining anger like arctic wind through summer clothes. His mouth fell open behind his mask as the implications sank in. "The PRT put a bounty out on me?" A hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up in his throat. Only 250k? Feel like I''m worth more than that, but sure. Woody scratched his stubbled chin, visor gleaming under the flickering street lights as he glanced skyward. "Nah... I mean, could be, but I doubt it. Just requested you be dropped off there. If you''re still alive. Honestly, it''s weird that you''re worth more dead. It''s usually the other way." His casual tone belied the way he kept shifting his weight, ready to move at the slightest provocation. Hardkour''s mind raced through the possibilities, each one darker than the last. Fresh anger coursed through his veins as residual flames danced across his knuckles. His voice dropped to something cold and dangerous as he locked eyes with both mercenaries. "How about I cut you both a deal? I won''t roast you alive or cut you in half, and you leave me the fuck alone." The threat landed hard. Woody''s eyes flashed yellow behind his cracked shades as he took an involuntary step back, while Quantum tensed up despite his clearly injured arm, like a wounded animal preparing for one last fight. Sparky jumped between them again, hands raised like a referee calling time in a particularly volatile boxing match. His eyes darted between Hardkour and the mercenaries, reflecting golden in the darkness. "He meaaaans¡ª" His voice carried that particular drawl he used when trying to prevent violence, a tight smile visible even through his mask. "That everybody stops fighting, and we can all go rest up and maybe decide if we want to throw down later, right?" Hardkour''s fingers itched with the urge to summon Nozorashi, to end this decisively. The familiar weight of the weapon in his Inventory felt like it was calling to him. He rounded on Sparky, ready to argue his point, to explain why leaving enemies alive was always a mistake. But Sparky met his gaze with a look that could melt steel. "Riiiiiiight?" Something in his friend''s tone made Hardkour''s protests die in his throat. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes with theatrical annoyance. "...Yeah." Woody''s relief was almost tangible as he raised a hand in agreement. "Sounds good to me." Quantum muttered something inaudible but gave a stiff nod that looked painful. "Fine." The mercenaries backed away with the careful movements of people trying not to spook a dangerous animal, before turning to sprint into the shadows at the edge of the lot. Hardkour tracked their movement until they vanished, embers still dancing around his clenched fist as combat-grade adrenaline continued to surge through his system. "Fuckin'' dickhead mercs," he growled, his body screaming at him to give chase, to finish what they''d started. A pointed glare from Sparky caught his attention, his friend''s eyebrow raised in that particular way that meant a lecture was incoming. "What?" Hardkour demanded, unable to keep the defensive sneer from his voice. Sparky rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, arms crossed over his chest. "Learn some de-escalation techniques, bro." Hardkour''s expression twisted, shifting into something in between both disbelief and outrage behind his mask. "Whaaa?" His friend just sighed, shaking his head with the weariness of someone who''d seen this coming a mile away. "Might save your life one day."
Capture or Casualty
Interlude: PRT Form 440-B (This was supposed to before 7.8) Interlude: PRT Form 440-B ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C PRT Form 440-B: Official Incident Report for Parahuman Combat Section 1: Identification
  • Incident ID: PRT-2011-05-29-008
  • Date and Time of Incident: 2011-05-29, 8:15
  • Location: Driftwood Court, Brockton Bay
  • Reporting Officer Name & ID: Officer J. Richards, PRT-0845
  • PRT Team Designation: Alpha Strike Unit
Section 2: Parahuman Profiles
  • Parahuman Involved (Primary):
    • Code Name: Mimic
    • Threat Class: Moderate
    • Known Affiliations: Flying Dragons (NYC-based gang)
    • Changer and Regen Brute known for rapid recovery from injuries.
  • Parahuman Involved (Secondary):
    • Code Name: Hardkour
    • Threat Class: High
    • Known Affiliations: Independent, Azn Bad Boyz
    • Mover with precision-based combat techniques. Demonstrated use of incendiary Blaster abilities.
Section 3: Incident Narrative
  • Initial Contact:
    • Date & Time Contact Established: 2011-05-29, 7:29
    • Circumstances Leading to Engagement: Responded to reports of active fires and structural damage at Driftwood Court.
  • Sequence of Events:
    • PRT team entered the site and discovered Mimic unconscious, with non-powered Flying Dragon members injured and barely conscious.
    • Uncharacteristic burn injuries were observed on Mimic, despite her known regenerative abilities.
    • Surveillance footage identified Hardkour as the hostile asset. He neutralized the non-powered gang members in under a minute and fought Mimic, employing high-force tactics and fire-based aggression.
    • Hardkour restrained Mimic, inflicting burn wounds while demanding information.
    • Containment breach occurred when Hardkour inflicted burns, resulting in partial collapse and fire outbreak.
    • Containment Protocols Enacted: Standard
Section 4: Environmental Impact
  • Description of the Area: Urban residential w/ mixed-use structures nearby.
  • Collateral Damage: Severe damage to building rear; partial collapse with fire spread.
  • Civilian Presence and Evacuation Status: Area evacuated; no civilian casualties.
Section 5: Tactical Analysis
  • Tactical Advantage Observed: Hardkour''s speed and precision were dominant, allowing rapid incapacitation of opposing hostiles.
  • Weaknesses in Enemy Profile: Potential over-reliance on intimidation and controlled environmental damage.
  • Recommended Adjustments: Deploy rapid containment units with advanced thermal suppression; ensure backup teams are equipped for high-mobility capes.
Section 6: Incident Outcome
  • Resolution of Engagement: Parahuman Escaped
  • Agent Injuries/Fatalities: No
  • Additional Parahuman Sightings Post-Incident: No
Section 7: Follow-Up Actions
  • Immediate Follow-Up Required: Yes
  • Recommended Units: Surveillance Task Force, Intelligence Unit.
  • Further Notes: Intelligence suggests escalating conflict involving the Sky Triad and Flying Dragons. Anticipate potential retaliatory strikes and maintain high-alert status in the sector.
Signed by Reporting Officer: Officer J. RichardsThis novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. For Internal PRT Use Only ¨C Security Level Alpha Required for Access ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C [RECORDING STARTS: 22:30, MAY 29, 2011. PRT ARCHIVAL UNIT. ACCESSING FILE ID: PRT-2011-05-29-008] [SYSTEM VOICE:] Incident report narrative logged by Officer J. Richards, PRT Alpha Strike Unit, Brockton Bay. Begin playback. Officer J. Richards: Officer J. Richards, Alpha Strike Unit, Brockton Bay, badge number Alpha-7741. Time of recording is 22:30 on May 29, 2011. Incident location: Driftwood Court. So, yeah, we got called out around 22:10. Report comes in¡ªbuilding''s half gone, fire''s out of control. We roll up five minutes later, and it''s already a shitshow. Rear of the building''s caved in, flames chewing through what''s left. Scanners are pinging life signs inside, so we gear up and go in. No time to wait for full suppression; people were gonna die if we dragged our heels. First thing we see is this woman, down and out near the middle of the room. Took me a second to put it together, but it''s Mimic. She''s out of town¡ªcame up in a briefing a few weeks back when we got the heads-up about the Flying Dragons and Sky Triad trying to carve out space in Brockton Bay. Regen Brute, we were told. Tough. Damn tough. Like, "walk through a car crash and barely limp" tough. Except here she is, laid out on the floor with burns up one side of her body and barely hanging on. That was the first thing that didn''t sit right. Around her, there''s a bunch of Flying Dragon muscle¡ªyour usual non-powered gang types. They''re scattered all over the place, knocked clean out. We managed to get one of them awake enough to talk, and he gives us the same story we''ve heard a dozen times now: red and black blur, moved too fast for them to react. Hardkour. I''ll be honest, when I first saw the scene, I thought, "No way he did all this." He''s wanted for some shit but not exactly anything like this. Being honest, we''re under orders to bring him in, but¡­ no one''s really pushing it to bring in the kid for killing ABB. We all lost people during the bombings, okay. Anyway¡­ But then we pulled the surveillance footage from the corner store. Yeah, it was him. Hit the crew first¡ªdidn''t even slow down. Less than a minute, and all of them were out cold or worse. Then he zeroed in on Mimic. Their fight? Ugly doesn''t even cover it. He pinned her, burned her, and started asking questions. I say asking but it looked more like demanding to me. Couldn''t make out what he was after¡ªthe audio''s garbage, and honestly, the way it looked, I''m not sure she even knew what he wanted. The burns weren''t random, though. He knew what he was doing, where to hit her. That kind of damage on someone with regen like hers? It takes knowledge. He was in and out before we even got close to the scene. No trace, no lingering presence, just a building on fire and bodies on the floor. By the time we finished clearing the place, fire suppression teams were moving in. Managed to keep the flames from spreading, but the building''s a total loss. Mimic was stabilized on-site, and the rest of the crew''s in custody now, waiting for interrogation. Here''s the thing, though¡ªonce we got back to base, I pulled up more intel on Mimic. I wanted to understand how the hell she got wrecked like that. And... yeah, what I found surprised me. I knew she was tough, but the reports? They''re on another level. This cape''s walked away from a grenade to the face. But he tore through her like she was nothing. That''s not normal. That''s not something we''re ready to deal with. Not on the PRT level and our capes aren''t exactly stacked with high-level Brutes here. Unless you wanna throw Aegis on the big-leagues and hope for the best, I don''t see us coming out of this easy without some outside backup, okay. Kid''s a killer, obviously, but he''s treating the law like jokes, which isn''t ideal, but do we wanna push him to take shit seriously, to be a cape killer? I wouldn''t risk it. Either way, tactically, he''s a nightmare. Speed, precision, control¡ªhe came in knowing exactly what he wanted and left when he didn''t get it. If we''re gonna deal with him, we need upgrades¡ªthermal suppression, better speedster countermeasures, the works. Right now, we''re outclassed and brass knows it, but not doing a thing about it. Either we take him down or we risk a Boston Games when somebody else tries to. This could blow up, no question. Flying Dragons and Sky Triad were already close to throwing down. Why in the Bay? I could give you a few guesses. And now you''ve got this kid on top of it? It''s a powder keg, and kid keeps lighting the fuse. That''s all I''ve got for now. Richards out. [SYSTEM VOICE:] End of recording. File archived. [RECORDING ENDS: 22:45, MAY 29, 2011.] Grief 7.9 Grief 7.9 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Sunlight knifed through the blinds, slashing jagged lines of gold across Greg''s room like some discount light show. He sprawled on the bed, limbs splayed out like a chalk outline at a crime scene, one sock half-off his foot, an arm dangling over the edge as if he''d kicked the bucket mid-nap. Greg stared up at the ceiling like it owed him money, eyes boring holes through the drywall. Honestly, he wasn''t really looking at it¡ªmore like looking through it, his mind spinning its wheels, stuck in the mud of every other place he''d rather be. Literally anywhere else. Maybe a beach in Hawaii, sipping on one of those fancy drinks with the little umbrellas. Definitely not here, getting ignored by his not-quite-girlfriend. His phone sat next to him, a black mirror of existential misery reflecting his own scowling face whenever he glanced at it. No new messages. No notifications. No hope. Outside, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of some neighbor''s ankle-biter of a dog provided the perfect soundtrack to his pity party. Chef''s kiss, really. Couldn''t have scored it better himself. The phone buzzed, a faint, useless vibration that only reminded him of everything it wasn''t. Like, oh, say, a call from Emma. An explanation. An apology. Anything other than the deafening silence that had become the norm. Greg didn''t even bother glancing at the device this time. The rejection hotline that was her voicemail had become the broken record of his day, the soundtrack stuck on repeat. Call, ring, beeep¡ªrinse and repeat. It was enough to make him want to launch the stupid thing out the window. Or maybe at the neighbor''s yappy dog. Apparently, he hadn''t learned his lesson about beating his head against metaphorical brick walls that only left him with a migraine the size of Texas. He''d stared at the "message sent" screen long enough to memorize every pixel, waiting for that little "delivered" checkmark to pop up like a sucker praying for a miracle in the desert. Nothing. Nada. Zip. No reply, no acknowledgment, no "Hey, sorry for leaving you on read for a week, my goldfish died." Nothing. No reply. No acknowledgment. Earlier¡ªand by earlier, he meant "I should change my name to Desperate"-o''clock¡ªhe''d tried calling Emma''s number. Again. And again. It spiraled straight to voicemail every single time, her chipper, automated greeting feeling more and more like a giant middle finger with each listen. At this point, Greg could recite it from memory, right down to the peppy little "Have a great day!" at the end. What a joke. Voicemail, every time. Not even a text back. Frustration simmered beneath his skin like lava, poking at him like a splinter he couldn''t quite dig out no matter how hard he tried. It itched, festered, a constant nagging sensation he couldn''t shake. Seriously, what had he done to deserve the cold shoulder from her? From her whole family? He thought they''d actually liked him. Well, Emma''s mom, at least ¡ª always smiling at him like he was already her son-in-law or something. Greg''s fingers drummed against the edge of the bed, an erratic beat, like a malfunctioning metronome. His thoughts raced, chasing each other in dizzying circles. Look, he wasn''t an idiot¡ªhe could tell when someone was cutting ties. Giving him the ol'' "it''s not you, it''s me" without having the balls to actually say it to his face. But still, no warning? No explanation? Just straight up radio silence? From the girl whose life he''d literally saved, like twice over. So this was ¡®getting ghosted¡¯. Man, it felt like shit. Complete and utter shit. "What the hell did I even do?" Greg muttered to the ceiling, half-expecting the white plaster to crack open and reveal some divine wisdom. It didn''t, of course. The ceiling remained as silent and unhelpful as ever, leaving him to stew in his own thoughts. Emma''s dad had been absolutely livid when he''d seen Greg looking perfectly untouched while his daughter lay comatose in a hospital bed. That was... what, a month ago now? Maybe more? Time had started to blur together, the days bleeding into each other like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The man had assumed all sorts of things, his mind jumping to the worst possible conclusions. Like Greg had just left Emma there, unconscious and bleeding on the pavement, and ran off to save his own skin. It had taken his mom stepping in and explaining that Greg had personally gotten Emma to an ambulance and stayed with her all the way to the hospital for the man to even begin to calm down. Not that Greg could really blame him for his anger. Hell, he was mad at himself. Mad for not being faster, for not trusting his Danger Sense more, for not... for not being better. "-ABERRRR!" The sudden shout jolted Greg out of his spiraling thoughts, his head snapping towards the source of the noise. Oh. Right. His PC. The monitor was still playing the intro video to Fate/Stay Night: New Star, the game he''d booted up in a fit of nostalgia and then promptly forgotten about. The looping animation flickered in the dim light of his room, the dramatic music swelling in a vain attempt to hype up a game Greg had already played to death. God, this was a mistake. He wasn''t even sure why he''d turned it on in the first place. Maybe it was a desperate grab for nostalgia, a futile attempt to recapture some sense of normalcy. Or maybe he''d just done it out of sheer boredom, because everything else felt too exhausting to even contemplate. On the screen, Saber''s sword gleamed as she struck down yet another faceless enemy in the cinematic. It used to give him chills, that scene. Now it barely even registered. Yeah, it all just felt... hollow. The once-epic storylines and flashy fights he''d loved in one of the best selling RPGs out of Japan since Leviathan were just... meh now. Like chewing flavorless gum, going through the motions without any of the satisfaction.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. "Nostalgia, my ass," Greg muttered, pushing himself up and sitting cross-legged on the bed. The springs creaked beneath him, the sound startlingly loud in the otherwise silent room. The game wasn''t the problem. Not really. It was just... everything. Everything piling up at once, like a bad anime filler arc that wouldn''t end no matter how much he wished for it. His mind drifted back to the capes from the other day. Well, the other-other day. Not Quantum and Woody. That fight was a whole different mess, and honestly? Kind of fun, in a weird, masochistic sort of way. Annoying as hell, sure, but at least they''d been interesting. Those two fought like they were playing co-op mode on the hardest difficulty setting, bouncing off each other''s attacks like they''d spent years choreographing their moves. They were professionals, through and through, and it showed. Every punch, every kick, every blast of energy¡ªit was all so clean, so precise, so fucking flawless. Like watching a ballet, if ballerinas could bench-press trucks and shoot laser bombs out of their fingers. It was cool, in a way, seeing that level of skill in action. But it was also a total pain in the ass to fight against. No wild, brawling chaos. No room to just... go even the slightest bit apeshit. They''d been too clean, too skilled, too fucking precise. It reminded him of fighting Slique, that slippery bastard with the friction control. Fun in the way a final boss fight was fun, more than anything: stressful, infuriating, and something you couldn''t stop thinking about after it was over. Greg flexed his hand, watching the faint flicker of sparks dance across his fingertips like miniature fireworks. They were almost mesmerizing, in a way. A tiny light show just for him. Fighting capes like Quantum and Woody was one thing, but dealing with the other nonsense? The Dragons? The Triad? Yeah, those were actually fun. Annoying but fun. Way more fun than the endless parade of "kill Greg Veder" attempts that seemed to be the new normal these days. Those guys, the meathead thugs who liked to brawl and scream and punch and smash? They were a breath of fresh air. It felt like fighting Lung again, but like... mid-boss level. He wasn''t scrambling to survive against them, constantly on the back foot and just trying to stay alive. No, with them, he could let loose a little. Cut the leash and really go wild. The mercs, on the other hand? They were just exhausting. Despite neither Quantum nor Woody doing all that much damage to him in the grand scheme of things, he''d much rather fight another Mako, or an Akuma, or a Jiangshi (just not all at once), than deal with another super-skilled merc out for his head. At least those Flying Dragon goons were all about making fights fun. There was no smashing, no brawling, no letting loose with the mercs. It was a surprise skill-off every damn time, like they were constantly trying to one-up each other with how many fancy moves they could pull off. Christ, taking down four capes was a hell of a lot easier when it was one-on-one. Or at the very least, two at a time. That teleporter guy, Ansatsu? Barely a hassle in the end. But Greg wasn''t dumb enough to think that the guy might not be able to move faster than his Danger Sense could react to, given the right circumstances. Teleportation, super speed... it was all the same past a certain point. He wasn''t taking any more chances, not after the last few close calls. And that fucking Terracotta guy? God, what a joke. He cried like a baby, spilling his guts and telling Greg everything he wanted to know, all the while begging him not to break his arms like they were made of glass. It was honestly kind of sad, in a pathetic sort of way. But still, the guy had led Greg to another safehouse in the end, another hideout of the Dragons that he could cross off the list. And another one of their capes, too. Taken down like it was nothing. Really, it had just taken some fists and some fire. Honestly, it was almost too easy. Where was the challenge? The thrill? Greg sat up suddenly, dragging his hands through his hair, which was now sticking up in a way that screamed "not even trying." His fists clenched, the faintest flicker of heat curling against his palms before he forced it back down. Tamped it down like a campfire that was getting just a little too big for comfort. "Can''t punch away my feelings," he muttered, the words bitter on his tongue. "This is bullshit. Why is everything so bullshit?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. He knew why everything was bullshit. It was because the world was just ¡°Like That¡±, and no amount of punching or slashing or fire-throwing or screaming at the ceiling was going to change it. But that didn''t make it any less frustrating. Any less infuriating. A sharp ding-dong jolted him out of his spiral, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet of his room. The doorbell. He blinked, head snapping towards the sound like his brain had to physically catch up to the real world. Who the hell even comes by unannounced anymore? Greg frowned, glancing at his watch. 4:17 pm. The numbers glowed back at him, almost mocking in their steadiness. Who the hell was ringing his doorbell in the middle of the afternoon like this was the 1950s and they were trying to sell vacuum cleaners? The bell rang again, more insistent this time, like whoever was on the other side was getting impatient. Or maybe they just had a really heavy finger. Who knew? "Hold your horses," Greg grumbled, dragging himself off the bed with a groan that was half-annoyed, half-resigned. It wasn''t like he had anything better to do, anyway. Maybe answering the door would provide some much-needed distraction from the never-ending spiral of his thoughts. He was already padding halfway down the stairs before he realized he wasn''t even wearing shoes. Or socks, for that matter. The old wood creaked under his feet with each step, announcing his presence to the entire house. Greg darted to the door, his heart kicking up just slightly in his chest. What if it was a package? Or worse¡ªanother bounty hunter, who managed to find out where he lived and was ready to take his head? But why would they be ringing the doorbell? He pushed that thought aside as his fist sparked faintly as a precaution, tiny arcs of electricity dancing across his knuckles. The other hand yanked the door open in one swift motion, ready for whatever fresh hell awaited him on the other side. "Hey¡ª" The word caught in Greg''s throat, lodging there like a fishbone. He froze, his brain screeching to a halt like a record scratch. There she was. There she was ¡ª Taylor Hebert, standing on his porch like a glitch in the matrix. The girl he hadn''t seen in... God, how long had it been? Weeks? Months? It felt like a lifetime ago, a different era entirely. What was she doing here? She looked the same as he remembered, and yet... different, somehow. Still long-haired, still bespectacled, still awkwardly stiff like she didn''t quite know what to do with her limbs. But there was something in her eyes, behind the glasses, a lightness that hadn''t been there before. She looked¡­ less tired, to put it simply. Taylor wasn''t looking directly at him, her gaze hovering somewhere over his left shoulder like she couldn''t quite bring herself to make eye contact. But the expression on her face? Woof. It was somewhere between "I made a huge mistake" and "Please don''t make this weirder than it already is," with a dash of "I''d rather be anywhere else right now" thrown in for good measure. Greg''s brain short-circuited for a second as he stared at the girl who had once been taller than him. Now, he realized with a jolt, he was actually looking down at her, just slightly. When had he gotten taller than Taylor freakin'' Hebert? When did that happen? When had he gotten taller, grown into his own gangly limbs and started to fill out? Greg couldn''t remember. It felt like it had snuck up on him when he wasn''t paying attention, like so many other things lately. Another second ticked by. Then a third. Greg managed to close his mouth after what felt like an eternity of gawking, finally croaking out a highly intelligent, "Uh... hi?" Taylor exhaled, her shoulders dropping a fraction like she''d been holding her breath. "Hi," she said, her voice quiet but still sharp enough to cut through the haze in Greg''s head. "Can I ¨C can we talk?" Greg stepped aside without thinking, holding the door open wider in a silent invitation. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Come in." But Taylor hesitated, glancing behind her like she was expecting someone to swoop in and snatch her away at any moment. Then she shook her head, a quick, jerky motion. "Actually... Can we talk outside?" Greg blinked, a thousand questions colliding in his head like bumper cars at a carnival. Why was she here? Why now, after all this time? What did she want to talk about? Was something wrong? Did she need help? But instead of asking any of them, he blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "You hungry?" Taylor frowned, clearly caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What?" Greg shrugged, leaning against the doorframe in a way that he hoped looked casual and not like he was internally losing his goddamn mind. "I mean, we can talk outside or whatever. But if we''re gonna talk, we might as well grab food first, right?" He gave her a quick once-over, taking in the way her clothes seemed to hang off her frame. "You look like you haven''t eaten in... like, a week." It was an exaggeration, of course. Taylor''s expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes that Greg couldn''t quite place. Surprise, maybe? Gratitude? Annoyance? It was hard to tell. She sighed, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie like she was trying to hide them. "Yeah. Okay. Food first." Greg grinned, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind him. "Great. Wings? Burgers? Or are you one of those, like, salad people? Because I gotta warn you, I don''t trust anyone who willingly eats leaves." Taylor shot him a look that was almost a smile, almost a glare, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Wings are fine." Grief 7.9b Grief 7.9b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Tuesday, May 31st Greg was three wings deep into his third round¡ªhalf buffalo, half honey sriracha¡ªwhen Taylor finally spoke again. he barely registered her voice over the muffled hum of the restaurant, the crackle of frying oil from the open kitchen, and the general buzz of people chewing, chatting, and occasionally daring the nuclear options on the menu. ¡°¡­so why¡¯d you pick this place?¡± she asked, her tone as flat as the untouched celery stick on her plate. Greg paused mid-bite, the drumstick still inches from his face, its spicy sheen glistening under the restaurant¡¯s warm, faux-halo lighting. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. Taylor, in all her big-haired glory, was watching him with what could only be described as a look. Not quite disgust. Not quite confusion. More like someone staring at a lab experiment they weren¡¯t sure had gone right. He set the wing down, licking the sauce off his thumb as he took a second to glance around the eatery. ¡°Why this place?¡± Greg repeated, voice muffled through the napkin he pressed to his mouth. ¡°You mean besides the fact it¡¯s basically heaven with a cholesterol problem?¡± Taylor didn¡¯t answer. she just gave him a deadpan stare, her five-wing plate still mostly untouched. Greg sighed, setting the napkin down and gesturing vaguely around the restaurant. The halos on the servers¡¯ heads gleamed, hand-polished by a guy named Gabe who didn¡¯t know what boundaries were. Under the low-hanging lights, the golden glow caught the edge of every perfectly waxed tabletop. Wingdom Come was a masterclass in trying too hard¡ªit had that weird balance of ¡°we¡¯re upscale¡± and ¡°but not, like, fancy-fancy¡± that screamed corporate focus-groups. The walls were soft blue, freshly painted, dotted with framed posters of angelic clouds and stock-photo sunsets. One even had a slightly pixelated dove soaring toward the light, which was either intentional irony or an oversight from their ¡°everything looks better after you eat¡± department. Below the posters, the tile floors sparkled with an unnerving amount of effort, reflecting the servers¡¯ movements as they bustled like caffeinated cherubs. Greg nodded toward the mural on the back wall. It was obnoxious in the way only restaurant decor could be: golden gates flung open like they were inviting you to the buffet table in the afterlife, surrounded by clouds so detailed they might¡¯ve been edible. Beneath the gates, a row of LED candles flickered, giving the whole scene a weird, almost holy glow. The neon sign overhead read ¡°Your Wings Are Ready¡± in big, looping letters. ¡°I mean, look at this place,¡± Greg said, leaning back in his chair and gesturing with the half-eaten drumstick in his hand like it was a pointer. ¡°It¡¯s themed. It¡¯s greasy. and it smells like¡­ like¡­¡± He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes for effect. ¡°Like divine intervention in chicken form.¡± Taylor raised an eyebrow. ¡°It''s a chicken joint.¡± ¡°A chicken cathedral,¡± Greg corrected, pointing at her with the drumstick before popping the rest into his mouth. He chewed dramatically, savoring the mix of buffalo sauce and that vaguely honey-adjacent sriracha, then swallowed. ¡°Where else are you gonna find a flavor like Seraphim Sweet Heat?¡± The girl across from him pursed her lips. ¡°No idea.¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°Besides, do you know anywhere else can you find servers with halos? That¡¯s gotta be some kind of OSHA violation.¡± One of the servers passed their table at that exact moment, balancing a tray loaded with wings and sauce cups. Her halo wobbled precariously, held in place by what Greg guessed was a strategically hidden headband. Her smile was big¡ªtoo big¡ªand faded the second she turned her back to the customers. ¡°Totally OSHA,¡± Greg muttered under his breath. Taylor just stared at him, her expression unreadable but definitely unimpressed. Greg shrugged, reaching for another wing. ¡°My type of place,¡± he added, dipping the drumstick into a cup of ranch and taking a huge bite. She nodded slowly, finally tearing a sizable piece off one of her wings and nibbling at it like it was toxic. ¡°I can see that.¡± Greg grinned, finishing off his wing and leaning forward on his elbows, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. ¡°Soooooo¡­¡± Taylor frowned, her fork pausing mid-air over a celery stick. ¡°What?¡± Greg waved his hand in a circle, motioning at her face. ¡°I dunno. You¡¯re the one who showed up at my place. you¡¯re the one with the whole mysterious ¡®Let¡¯s Talk¡¯ thing. What¡¯s up?¡± Taylor hesitated, her gaze drifting down to her plate as she pushed a wing bone to the side. ¡°I just¡­¡± she started, then trailed off, her shoulders tensing like she was bracing for something. Greg tilted his head, watching her closely. He could feel it¡ªthe weight of whatever she wasn¡¯t saying, the way it hung in the air between them. Part of him wanted to crack a joke, defuse whatever tension was building, but something about the way she wasn¡¯t looking at him stopped him. Instead, Greg leaned back, giving her space to speak. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me, y¡¯know,¡± he said, his tone lighter now, less probing. ¡°I''m not exactly licensed for emotional deep dives. But if it¡¯s about homework, I''m gonna need a better bribe than wings.¡± Taylor almost smiled. almost. it was fleeting, like a flicker of light through clouds, but Greg caught it. She exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just enough for him to notice. ¡°It''s not homework,¡± she said quietly. Greg raised an eyebrow, waiting. When she didn¡¯t elaborate, he leaned forward again, resting his chin on his hand. ¡°Is it about Emma?¡± Taylor flinched, and Greg immediately regretted asking. but before he could backtrack, she shook her head, her messy hair falling into her face. ¡°No,¡± she said quickly. ¡°It¡¯s¡ª it¡¯s not her.¡± The silence that followed felt heavier than it should¡¯ve been, like there were too many words trying to fit into too small a space. Greg let it hang for a moment, then picked up another wing, because sometimes the best move was to do nothing at all. ¡°Okay,¡± he said simply, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. He didn¡¯t push, didn¡¯t prod. He just waited, letting the sound of the restaurant fill the void between them. Greg finished his latest wing with a theatrical sigh of satisfaction, reaching for the napkin while Taylor sat across from him, silent, fidgeting with her untouched plate. Her fingers tapped against the edge of the table in a rhythmic, uneven beat, the kind that screamed I¡¯m thinking too much, and it¡¯s annoying me. Kinda annoying him too, honestly. After a half minute of nothing but that awkward tapping and the muffled noise of the restaurant, she finally pushed her hair back and let out a long sigh. ¡°Okay, it is kinda¡­¡± she hesitated, and Greg raised an eyebrow mid-reach for another wing. She frowned, glancing away as if the words were hiding somewhere under the neon lights. ¡°It''s kinda about¡­ about Emma, okay?¡± Greg nodded, slow, his expression carefully neutral. ¡°Okay.¡± She shifted in her seat, her discomfort practically radiating off her. ¡°But it¡¯s more about me¡­¡± another flinch, this one sharper than the last, her eyes darting to Greg¡¯s for just a second. ¡°Well, you¡­ you and me?¡± Greg froze for half a second, chicken wing still in hand, before letting out a low whistle. ¡°Oh¡­ Well, I¡¯m flattered, you know.¡± Taylor¡¯s head snapped up so fast it was a miracle her neck didn¡¯t crack. ¡°Wait, n¡ª¡± Greg smirked ¡ªbecause of course he was smirking¡ª and leaned back in his chair, suddenly in no rush to finish his wings. ¡°I get it,¡± he said, gesturing vaguely at himself. ¡°I know it''s a lot ¡ª the hair, the bod...¡± He pointed at each with exaggerated precision, nearly dripping buffalo sauce onto his white shirt as he motioned at his chest. Taylor stared at him, her mouth slightly open, but her narrowed eyes gave away her irritation. except¡­ was that a flicker of surprise? She glanced at his chest for half a second too long before snapping her gaze back to his face. ¡°¡­Are¡­Are you done?¡± Greg pretended to think about it, tapping a clean finger against his chin. ¡°Well, I am single, so if you¡¯re offering¡ª¡± The joke almost hurt to make, Greg barely hiding a wince as he thought of Emma again. ¡°Stop,¡± she snapped, her cheeks going pink. You have gained 1 CHA. Greg let out an unintentional snort. Wow, a CHA level up. Been a while. ¡°Okay.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Taylor glared, her flush deepening. ¡°You¡¯re impossible.¡± Greg laughed, wiping his hands clean. ¡°Okay, okay. But seriously, this is¡­ a weird jump from last time.¡± ¡°Last time,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Yeah..¡± he tilted his head, thinking back. The last time they¡¯d spoken was, what, two months ago? That whole mess in the hallway after school? Taylor had snapped at him in front of like five percent of Winslow''s population, and he couldn¡¯t even remember exactly what it had been about. Probably Emma-related. Everything seemed Emma-related back then. Of course, a lot¡¯s happened since then, Greg thought, rubbing at his temple like he could erase the mental replay of recent chaos. On top of that, he had also gotten a bunch of brain damage since it all went down. Like, a lot, he thought with a slight frown. How many concussions was that? He was pretty sure his gray meat might have actually been more red meat at one point, honestly, considering Bakuda¡¯s hospital bomb ¡ª that Boston bitch ¡ª and pretty much all the times he had been slammed through walls and hit with fists that were more like sledgehammers than anything else. Granted, his brain had probably healed up better than before but still, that was his excuse and he was sticking to it. ¡°Anyway,¡± Taylor said, cutting through his spiraling thoughts, ¡°I came to see you because¡­¡± She hesitated, her hands curling into fists against her thighs. ¡°Because I was talking to some people about¡­ how I acted. And I ¡ª I realized I might''ve been¡­¡± Greg leaned forward, interested now, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Go on¡­¡± ¡°...Unintentionally mean,¡± she finished quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. she cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at him. ¡°And I wanted to¡­ apologize.¡± Greg blinked. ¡°Oh.¡± Taylor sighed. ¡°...yeah.¡± He nodded, setting down the wing in his hand and folding his arms on the table. ¡°Well, go ahead.¡± Taylor blinked back at him, clearly caught off guard. ¡°What?¡± Greg shrugged, gesturing with his now-clean hands. ¡°Apologize.¡± She frowned, her eye twitching ever so slightly. ¡°I did.¡± ¡°No,¡± Greg said, shaking his head slowly. ¡°You said you want to apologize. I''m still waiting.¡± Taylor¡¯s jaw tightened. her hands curled into fists again, and her voice was almost a growl as she said, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry.¡± The last word came out through gritted teeth. Greg held her gaze for a long moment, his expression carefully serious¡ªthen broke into a snort, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°You¡­ You didn¡¯t have to do that. I was just fucking with you. Wow.¡± Taylor groaned, leaning back and looking half-disgusted, half-exasperated. ¡°Oh, c¡¯mon,¡± Greg said, still laughing. ¡°Laugh a little. It¡¯s good for you.¡± A pair of eyes narrowed at him. ¡°Why are you like this?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Greg replied, without missing a beat, ¡°I was hugged too much as a child.¡± ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Taylor said, rolling her eyes¡ªthen froze, her expression shifting. ¡°W-wait. You¡¯re single? You and Emma broke up? When? How?¡± Greg blinked at her, thrown by the abrupt topic change. ¡°Uh, well, I mean, when a girl doesn¡¯t like you anymore, she usually calls it off.¡± ¡°Shut up,¡± Taylor said quickly, her voice sharper now. ¡°I mean, sorry, but isn¡¯t Emma, like¡­ you know, in the hospital?¡± ¡°Oh, you mean, the coma thing.¡± Greg shrugged, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Well, I mean, she was. Got released last week. It was all super quick ¡ª private Medhall hospital and all that. Probably cleared the beds or something. Space issues, you know how it is.¡± Taylor stared at him, her expression unreadable. ¡°...What?¡± Greg tilted his head, confused. ¡°Yeah, what?¡± ¡°What do you mean, ¡®yeah, what¡¯?!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want me to say, okay?¡± Greg spread his hands. ¡°Like I said: Emma¡¯s out, and she¡¯s ignoring my calls. Her family, too. So, I figure we¡¯re broken up. I don''t know the rules to this.¡± Taylor blinked, clearly trying to process everything he¡¯d just said. Greg picked up another wing, shrugging as he took a bite. ¡°So, yeah.¡± Greg sipped at his lemonade, letting the straw squeak against the ice as he leaned back in his chair. The pink drink was aggressively sweet, like the kind of sugar rush that came with a free side of regret. The condensation beaded down the tall plastic cup, dripping onto the table, but Greg barely noticed. He was too busy watching Taylor squirm in her seat, her expression flickering between a bunch of emotions he wasn¡¯t sure he could define. He leaned back in his chair, his pink lemonade abandoned for the moment, though his fingers still drummed lightly on the edge of the table. ¡°You know, I used to wonder, what if she wakes up but I¡¯m not there, and the first guy she sees is some hot doctor, like that gay guy off that hospital soap opera?¡± Taylor, who had been mid-sip of her water, nearly choked. She set the glass down harder than intended, giving him a look that could¡¯ve flattened a lesser man. ¡°In reverse order¡­ It''s not a soap opera, the doctor¡¯s probably not gay, and Emma''s fifteen. How the hell would a fifteen-year-old even get with a grown man who wasn¡¯t a sicko?¡± Greg tilted his head, considering. ¡°Well¡­ I guess. But if she was in Germany, she could.¡± Taylor froze, blinking at him in disbelief. ¡°I know I''m gonna regret this, but what?!¡± ¡°The age of consent in Germany is fourteen,¡± Greg explained matter-of-factly, like he was giving a history presentation. ¡°It''s like the Alabama of europe.¡± Taylor stared at him, her expression torn between horror and sheer exasperation. ¡°We¡¯re not in Germany, Greg!¡± He shrugged, his tone as casual as ever. ¡°Tell that to the Nazis, Taylor. It feels like the nineteen-fucking-forties sometimes.¡± The restaurant bustled around them, a background hum of conversations, and the occasional laughter from a kid who was probably hopped up on too many of Wingdom Come¡¯s ¡°Heavenly Cake Fries.¡± One server rushed by with a precariously stacked tray of wings, her halo wobbling dangerously. Greg watched it, half-expecting the whole thing to topple over. Miraculously, it didn¡¯t, and she disappeared toward the back, her wings brushing the mural as she passed. Greg took another long, loud sip. Taylor shot him a look, her lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°What?¡± Greg asked, pink lemonade still in his mouth. His voice came out muffled and slightly ridiculous, which only made her glare harder. ¡°You¡¯re impossible,¡± she muttered, breaking eye contact to stare down at her plate again. ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon,¡± Greg said, setting his drink down with a clink. ¡°Impossible? Really? You make me sound like the final boss in a video game.¡± He tapped his fingers against the table, pretending to think. ¡°But, like, a fun one, right? not one of those ¡®ugh, can¡¯t handle this guy again¡¯ bosses. No Gilgamesh. I''m talking Sephiroth. Or maybe Ganondorf¡ªclassic, but always a good time.¡± ¡°Greg,¡± Taylor said, her tone teetering on the edge of exasperation. ¡°Fine,¡± Greg said, throwing his hands up dramatically. ¡°Bowser. I¡¯ll be Bowser.¡± ¡°Greg!¡± ¡°What?¡± he grinned, reaching for another wing. ¡°You were saying?¡± She sighed, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her eyes darted around the restaurant, like she was trying to gather her thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you seem weirdly okay about everything.¡± Greg blinked at her, mid-bite. ¡°Define ¡®everything.¡¯¡± ¡°Emma. The breakup. Her ignoring you. The hospital thing. Everything,¡± she said, gesturing vaguely, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Greg swallowed his bite and set the wing down, dusting his hands on a napkin. ¡°Oh, that. Yeah, no ¡ª it sucks. But what am I supposed to do? Storm her house with a boombox over my head, all John Cusack, Say Anything-style? Feels a little overkill.¡± Taylor frowned. ¡°But you don¡¯t even seem mad. Or¡­ or anything.¡± Greg tilted his head, studying her. ¡°What, you expect me to go full telenovela? Throw myself on the ground, tear my shirt open, scream ¡®Por qu¨¦?!¡¯ at the sky?¡± He put a hand to his forehead for dramatic effect, earning another glare from Taylor. ¡°You¡¯re not funny,¡± she said, but her lips twitched, betraying her. ¡°Eh, debatable,¡± Greg replied, picking up his drink again. The straw squeaked as he took another sip, the sugary lemonade hitting him with a fresh wave of artificial bliss. He set it down and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re the one who brought her up. So spill. What''s the deal? You miss her or something?¡± Taylor flinched, her shoulders tensing. She didn¡¯t look at him, her gaze fixed on the table like it held all the answers she couldn¡¯t say out loud. Greg waited, his smirk fading slightly as the silence stretched on. ¡°It''s not that,¡± Taylor said finally, her voice quieter now. She reached for her glass of water, but didn¡¯t drink from it, her fingers just tracing the rim. ¡°It¡¯s not about¡­ missing her. It¡¯s just¡­¡± Greg raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully. ¡°Just what?¡± he asked, keeping his tone light, like they were still joking around. Taylor swallowed, her throat bobbing visibly. ¡°You wanna know the truth?¡± she said suddenly, her voice sharper now, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade. She looked up, meeting his eyes properly for the first time since they sat down. ¡°Why I hate Emma Barnes?¡± Greg¡¯s heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the weight in her words. His smirk slipped completely, replaced by something quieter, something closer to concern. ¡°Yeah,¡± he said, his voice softer than he expected. ¡°I do.¡± ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The room was dark, but Greg saw everything clearly. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs, the faint glow of streetlights threading through the blinds just enough to paint the edges of his cluttered desk, the chair he never used anymore, and the heap of laundry he kept promising himself he¡¯d deal with. The silence felt thick, pressing, broken only by the occasional hum of a car passing outside. He sat on the edge of his bed, back hunched, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. The faint light caught on his knuckles,bloodied but healed from the rustbucket of a car he¡¯d punched. It wasn¡¯t like he hadn¡¯t meant to hit it¡ªit was more that he hadn¡¯t meant to hit it that hard. But Greg hadn¡¯t been thinking clearly at the time. Still wasn¡¯t, to be honest. His mind spun in circles, thoughts crashing into each other like a slow-motion car wreck he couldn¡¯t look away from. Taylor¡¯s words replayed in his head, sharp and heavy, chipping away at everything he thought he had understood about Emma. Everything she¡¯d told him about her. Everything he¡¯d wanted to believe about her. Greg exhaled through his nose, his jaw tight as he stared at the floor, unmoving. The wood grain blurred in and out of focus, and for once, his usual stream of snarky commentary was silent. The buzz of his phone broke the stillness, its vibration rattling against the nightstand. The screen lit up, casting a cold, pale glow over the edge of his bed. Greg didn¡¯t reach for it immediately. His gaze flicked to the screen, and he froze, his body tensing as the name burned into his retinas. He didn¡¯t move, didn¡¯t blink, just stared at the name. "Emma." And, once again, Greg Veder didn¡¯t know what the hell to do. Grief 7.10 Grief 7.10 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg shoved open the glass door to the store with just enough force to let it swing freely. It didn''t slam, though¡ªof course it didn''t. Places like this didn''t do slamming doors. The movement was caught by a smooth hydraulic hiss, like even the door had standards. Stepping inside, Greg adjusted his jacket and strolled in like he belonged there, despite having never set foot in the place before. The air hit him first: a crisp, artificial chill that smelled faintly of leather, polished steel, and some overpriced air freshener that probably had a name like "Wealth Breeze" or "Success No. 5." The place oozed money in that subtly posh way high-end clothing stores only could, with a facade of catering to the every-man despite the fact that everything was branded with designer labels to showcase their ''quality''. Racks of carefully curated streetwear stood like soldiers in formation, spotless and expensive, their tags dangling like quiet warnings. Greg''s brain wasn''t really here, though. It was two streets over, still chewing on the phone call he''d let ring out earlier. The screen had lit up with that familiar name and, like a pro, he''d sent it straight to voicemail. Again. He''d been doing that a lot lately. The irritation was there, bubbling under the surface, but Greg shoved it aside, cramming it into the same mental junk drawer where all his unresolved stuff lived. Instead, he focused on the here and now: clean floors that gleamed under soft, recessed lighting, mannequins dressed like they were ready for a post-apocalyptic runway show, and racks that didn''t creak or wobble. A glance toward the counter confirmed what he already knew. The clerk had clocked him the second his sneaker hit the polished marble. She was young, sharp-looking, in a tight black v-neck with an artsy blue "V" logo that screamed, "I don''t get paid enough for this. Her eyes flicked up from the counter, scanning him in that subtle-but-not-subtle way trained retail workers had. It was quick¡ªsneakers, jeans, jacket¡ªenough to decide Greg probably didn''t belong. Greg didn''t blink, didn''t roll his eyes or scowl at all. The woman''s look slid off him like rain on an overpriced raincoat. He wasn''t here for her, wasn''t here for the store, really. No, he was here because Sparky and Theo needed new outfits for cape stuff and, apparently, couldn''t pick a damn place to shop without arguing about it for an hour. He turned back toward the door, where it was taking far too long for his so-called friends to follow him. "Oi, Tweedles!" Greg called, loud enough to make the clerk twitch. His voice bounced off the polished walls with a casual kind of authority that dared someone to tell him to shut up. "Hurry it up!" The door swung open again, and Sparky strode in, all long hair and annoyance, golden eyes narrowing at Greg like he''d personally ruined his day. Theo followed right behind, dragging his feet like they''d walked a mile uphill. His silver-gray eyes scanned the store with an expression that hovered somewhere between bored and curious. "Tweedles?" Theo asked, his tone mild, Greg nodded, tilting his head toward them. "Yeah, you know, like Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee." He gestured vaguely between the two of them. Sparky snorted, crossing his arms. "Tweedle Dum? I know you''re not talking¡ª" Greg smirked, turning back toward the racks of streetwear and giving a dismissive wave. "Yeah, yeah, just pick out what you want." Sparky''s eyes widened slightly as he glanced at a nearby rack. The jacket closest to him had a tag that practically screamed ''Do not touch unless you''ve got a trust fund''. "From here?" he asked, his voice pitching up in disbelief as he caught sight of another price tag. "What happened to the thrift store?" Greg grinned, casually picking up a shirt to inspect the fabric. It felt ridiculously soft, like it had been handwoven by the collective effort of clouds and angels. "What? You''re acting like I expect you to pay." Sparky raised an eyebrow, already unimpressed. "Uh-huh." "Consider me your sugar daddy," Greg said, his tone as smooth as the AC. Sparky made a face, half-disgusted, half-exasperated. "Shut up." "No, really," Greg continued, grinning wider as he threw an arm over Theo''s shoulders, pulling his shorter godbrother into a loose side hug. "You two are my dependents now. I''m officially adopting you. Congrats. Paperwork''s in the mail." Theo blinked up at him, clearly unsure how to respond. "Uh¡­ thanks?" "Don''t thank me yet," Greg said, releasing him and stepping toward the nearest mannequin. It was dressed in a sleek, military-style jacket that looked like it could survive a nuclear winter and still make you look cool while looting the wasteland. "Just wait until I start making you do chores." Sparky rolled his eyes, his friend already flipping through a rack of jackets with half-hearted interest. "You''re the worst." "And yet," Greg shot back, winking, "here we are." The clerk was still watching them, her expression blank but her posture stiff, like she was ready to swoop in if any of them so much as breathed on the merchandise wrong. Greg caught her eye and gave her his best I dare you grin, then turned back to Theo, who was inspecting a hoodie like it might bite him. "Yo, Theo, you good?" Greg asked in a whisper, leaning over his shoulder. "You look like you''re debating whether or not to call security." Theo glanced up. "Just wondering if this place is worth the markup." Greg let out a short laugh. "Spoiler alert: it''s not. But you''ll look sick, so who cares?" He grabbed a random jacket from the rack and tossed it to Theo, who caught it with a quiet oof. "Here, I figure you might like gray." Sparky, still flipping through options, glanced over his shoulder. "Seriously, why are we even here? You could''ve just taken us to, like, the mall or something." "And miss out on this vibe?" Greg gestured around the store with both hands. "Look at this place. It''s got aesthetic." Sparky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "It''s got overpriced bullshit." "Exactly," Greg said, already reaching for another jacket to try on. "And you''re welcome." Greg''s pockets were heavier than usual¡ªnot just with his usual assortment of gum wrappers and loose change, but with cash. Real cash. Lee Joon, the head of finance for the Ronin, always made sure to keep Greg''s "investments" working for him. With most of the ABB''s old business ventures in shambles, Greg had gotten into the habit of handing most of his earnings to Joon anyway. The guy was like a human calculator with an attitude and it honestly beat Greg having to figure out how to manage it himself. Still, he could feel Sparky''s judgment radiating off him from ten feet away as the other boy flipped through jackets, grumbling loud enough for half the store to hear. "Why are we here again?" Sparky asked, holding up a neon green jacket like it had personally offended him. "This stuff''s not even practical. Who needs a jacket you can see from space?" "It''s practical if you want to be a cape," Greg whispered without looking up, his voice carrying to Sparky and Theo''s enhanced ears as he lazily brushed his fingers over a pair of gloves on a nearby shelf. "You know, dazzle the normals." Sparky snorted, dripping with sarcasm. "Great plan. ''cause staying stealthy is overrated." "So''s complaining," Greg shot back, a slight smirk on his lips. Theo, standing nearby and watching the exchange with his usual calm detachment, glanced at Sparky. "He''s right, you know." Sparky rounded on Theo, pointing at him with mock indignation. "Don''t start. You''re just as bad." Theo shrugged, reaching for a hoodie that looked about three sizes too big. "I didn''t drag us here." He paused, glancing at Greg. "But I''ll take some things, since you''re apparently feeling generous." "Sugar daddy Greg strikes again," Greg said, rolling his eyes. He picked up a sleek blue jacket with white carbon-fiber panels on the shoulders, inspecting it for no reason other than it looked expensive. "You two are lucky you''ve got me. I''m like the Robin Hood of teenagers, except I keep the money and spend it on my friends instead of the poor." "Yeah, so selfless," Sparky muttered, shoving the neon green jacket back onto the rack with exaggerated force. Greg ignored him, his attention shifting to the clerk who had been hovering a little too close for comfort. She wasn''t the problem, though. The real problem was standing near the main checkout desk: a man, late twenties, with hair so perfectly styled it bordered on aggressive. His name tag read Bennett in sleek, minimalist font, the kind that tried to convince you it belonged on a designer ad. Bennett wasn''t staring outright¡ªtoo professional for that¡ªbut his gaze lingered just long enough for Greg to catch it. The kind of look that said I see you, but the thin, too-polite smile that followed said I don''t trust you. Standard Boardwalk retail-worker procedure when you were sixteen and wearing sneakers that were clean but not brand-new clean. Greg glanced at him once, then dismissed him just as quickly. He drifted past a rack of bullet jackets, their polished zippers and carbon-fiber trim practically daring him to care. One of them caught his eye¡ª$600 on the tag¡ªbut he kept walking. no need to give Bennett the satisfaction of looking interested. His fingers brushed a guardian wristband on a nearby display, sleek and black with some kind of hidden tool tucked inside. It felt cool for half a second before Greg dropped it, already bored. He could almost hear Bennett spinning up a Can I help you? line from across the store, and that was the last thing Greg needed. Instead, he focused on the gloves¡ªblack, carbon-fiber knuckles, serious gear. They looked like something you''d wear if you planned to punch steel and walk away with your hand intact. "Need help?" the clerk asked, her voice a little too chirpy for the vibe she was going for. She''d clearly scurried over on orders from Bennett, her ponytail bouncing like it was rehearsed. Greg turned slightly, holding the gloves like they were nothing special. His face didn''t shift, his tone perfectly level. "Nope." She lingered for a second too long, her eyes flicking between Greg and the gloves like she wasn''t quite convinced. After an awkward pause, she finally turned and walked away, her sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. Greg rolled his eyes and set the gloves back on the shelf. "Think they''ve got a quota for how many teenagers they kick out a week?" he muttered, loud enough for Sparky and Theo to hear. Sparky snorted. "Probably. Let me know when they get to us." Theo, now holding a shiny robe-like oversized drop shoulder gray hoodie and inspecting the stitching, glanced up. "They''re definitely watching you more than us." "Jealous?" Greg shot back with a smirk, stepping toward another rack of jackets. "Nope," Theo said simply, pulling the hoodie over his arm. Sparky muttered something under his breath about "stupid boardwalk stores" and the "freaking overpriced everything" as Greg casually slid his phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen. Emma. His smirk vanished, the usual lightness in his expression replaced with something heavier. his thumb hovered over the screen for a second¡ªjust a second¡ªbefore he shoved it back into his pocket, his jaw tight. "Yo, Greg," Sparky called, oblivious, holding up a jacket that looked like it could double as body armor. "You gonna get anything, or are you just here to piss off the staff?" Greg blinked, forcing a grin back onto his face as he turned toward Sparky. "Pissing off the staff is the purchase. Everything else is a bonus." Sparky rolled his eyes and tossed the jacket back onto the rack. "You''re insufferable." "And yet," Greg said, already heading toward another display, "you''re still here." Eyes scanned the rack, fingers brushing lightly over blue and white jackets, hoodies, and shirts. The material ranged from sleek, futuristic cuts to the kind of baggy, overdesigned nonsense that belonged on the runway, not the Boardwalk. Each piece whispered ''buy me, you''ll look invincible''¡ªbut his mind wasn''t on looking cool, not entirely. The phone in his pocket buzzed again, a persistent vibration that he ignored for the fourth¡ªor was it fifth?¡ªtime. Emma''s name flashed behind his eyelids every time it went off, like his subconscious was keeping track for him. He gritted his teeth, pulling a jacket off the rack and holding it up to the light. Not bad. But unlike what he''d told Theo and Sparky, he wasn''t here for his usual casual gear while they grabbed costume-related stuff. No, this was about something else entirely. Greg knew he''d need a new costume soon¡ªone for himself, not Hardkour. It had been sitting at the back of his mind for over a month now, gnawing quietly since school started back up. And no matter how much he tried to shove it aside, it kept coming back, louder every time. He''d told Sparky before: his identity wouldn''t stay secret forever. And he''d meant it. It wasn''t a matter of if, only when. The confirmation that someone had put a hit out on him only made it more urgent. Whoever it was, they were tracking his movements closely enough to follow Hardkour, to somehow track his patrol habits he thought he randomized, to set up fucking repeated ambushes. How long until they connected the dots? How long until they started following Greg Veder? How long till they decided to go after other people? There wasn''t a constant tail on his mom just because he was paranoid. Greg exhaled sharply through his nose, flipping through another set of jackets. He picked out a navy blue hoodie with a simple white trim, holding it up before tossing it over his arm. The motion made his phone buzz again, and he froze for a moment, his fingers tightening around the fabric. Emma. Again. He didn''t even bother pulling it out this time. Instead, he shoved the hoodie, undershirt and shoes into Theo''s hands as the boy wandered past, earning a placid "mm?" in response. "Hold this," Greg said. Theo didn''t even blink, his calm, unbothered demeanor somehow grounding. Greg sighed and moved toward Sparky, who was muttering to himself about how much money they were about to burn in this store. His fingers slipped into his jacket pocket as he reached him, hand diving into his inventory. In his head, he spoke the word, feeling the familiar pull of his power as he summoned what he needed without a hint of the motion showing. A tied stack of hundred-dollar bills slid into his grip like magic. "Here," Greg said, dropping the stack into Sparky''s open hand. Sparky blinked at him then down at his palm, his golden eyes widening as he stared at the money like it might explode. "Wha¡ªwhat''s this, brah?" Greg smirked faintly, brushing past him toward the door, grabbing a few more things. "A down payment on a new car. Should be enough to cover whatever you guys want in here. Theo?" His godbrother looked up from the hoodie Greg had handed him, his expression as calm as ever. "Hmm?" Greg dropped the pants, jacket and gloves he''d been looking at into Theo''s hands. "Add this to the pile." Theo gave a faint nod, his silver-gray eyes glancing briefly at the clothes before settling back into his usual calm gaze. He didn''t question it. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. There was a lot the chubby blond didn''t seem to question, those gray eyes blank but piercing at the same time. And a lot more he should have, honestly. Greg started walking toward the exit, his steps deliberate but not hurried. "Where are you going¡ª" Sparky began, but Greg quickly cut him off. "Need to clear my head," he waved him off without turning. "I''ll be back in ten minutes tops. Just buy the stuff." He pushed open the door, the hydraulic hiss catching the movement as it swung shut behind him. The cool night air hit him as he stepped outside, the noise of the boardwalk muted but still present¡ªa steady hum of distant laughter, conversations, and the faint crash of waves somewhere in the distance. He glanced down at the black screen of his phone, the missed calls glaring back at him like a silent accusation. Seven missed calls. Greg shoved the phone back into his pocket, his jaw tightening as he let out a sharp breath. "Fuck me," he muttered, heading toward the railing overlooking the water. Greg kept walking, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, the dull buzz of the boardwalk pressing in around him. The lights, the sounds, the smells¡ªusually, they were enough to keep his brain busy, to drown out whatever he didn''t want to think about. Not tonight. Emma. He couldn''t keep ignoring her forever, and he knew it. His phone was proof of that, still vibrating every few minutes like it had a personal vendetta against him. But the thought of actually picking up, of hearing her voice again after everything Taylor had told him¡­ He didn''t want to talk to her anymore. He couldn''t. Not right now. The locker had been bad enough. Greg had known about that part¡ªeveryone had heard about it at Winslow¡ªbut he hadn''t known how bad it I was. How long it had been planned. How calculated it all was. Greg had been shoved into lockers before. Not like that. And everything else¡­ God, he hadn''t realized how insane girls could get with their version of bullying. He''d take a black eye and stolen lunch money over whatever that psychological-warfare shit was. Don''t lie, Veder. You weren''t thinking with your head. Or, well, he was, but not the bigger one. He hadn''t bothered to push on Emma''s mean girl behavior from the beginning, even when he had seen what she did to the girls in her own friend group. At the time, she had seemed to be defending him, and Sparky had said worse, but it wasn''t exactly a good look either way. And Sophia¡­ well, Sophia was just a darker-skinned Sparky in his head. A darker skinned Sparky who liked wearing track shorts and tight shirts and¡­ Greg shook his head furiously. Get it together, big boy. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, Greg kicked a loose pebble off to the side, watching it launch across the sand with a bit more force than it should have. Shit. Thankfully, the Boardwalk was nowhere near as full as it should have been, for some reason. A yell cut through the night air, sharp and panicked. Shit! Greg''s head snapped up, his attention pulled toward the north end of the boardwalk. He hadn''t even realized he''d wandered this far. The alley near the exit toward the docks loomed ahead, dimly lit, a few trash bags scattered near the mouth like some lazy attempt at camouflage. Another yell. Louder this time. Greg''s stomach twisted as he glanced around, his eyes zeroing in on movement just beyond the alley''s edge. A girl, her back pressed against the wall, struggling as some guy loomed over her. The man had a wiry frame, his clothes loose and disheveled. His face was shadowed, but Greg could see the sharp angle of his jaw, the tension in his posture as he grabbed at the girl''s shirt, his fingers curling like claws. Rage spiked in Greg''s chest, hot and instant. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was moving, his feet hitting the pavement harder than he meant to. "Hey!" he barked, his voice slicing through the alley like a whip. The man barely had time to turn before Greg shoved him aside, his hands finding the man''s shoulders and pushing with more strength than he probably should have. The guy stumbled, his face twisting with rage as he turned back toward Greg. For a split second, their eyes met. Blank. Almost dead, like he wasn''t in the driver''s seat. The guy lunged, but Greg was faster. And stronger. He slapped an open hand into the man''s chest with enough force to knock the air out of him for a good few minutes at the very least. The guy hit the ground with a wheezing thud, clutching at his ribs as he heaved for breath. Greg didn''t spare him another glance. He turned to the girl, his voice softer. "Are y¡ª" The words died in his throat as his eyes locked onto hers. He blinked, his thoughts scrambling like they''d just hit a brick wall. The girl¡ªno, woman¡ªwas pressed against the wall, trembling so hard Greg could see it in her shoulders, even with her hands braced against the brick. Her breath hitched every time she exhaled, coming out fast, shallow, panicked. She looked like a rabbit cornered by something with claws. Thin, dark-haired, pale, with a streak of red in her hair that somehow made her seem more fragile, like someone had put it there to mark her as a target. Her eyes¡ªwide, wet¡ªstayed glued to him. Not the guy on the ground. Not the alley around them. Him. The fear in them wasn''t vague or general; it was specific. She wasn''t just scared of what had just happened. She was scared of what might happen next, and it had everything to do with him. Greg felt his jaw tighten. "Hey¡­ you good?" he asked, voice low and steady, keeping his movements slow and both hands loose at his sides, nonthreatening. The last thing she needed was someone else making her feel cornered. Her head jerked slightly, the barest nod, like her body was on a delay. She sucked in a shaky breath, then tried for a second nod. Her fingers curled against the brick, gripping it like it might anchor her. "I¡ªyeah. I think. Yeah." The words barely made it out. They weren''t practiced, not polished. No one faked that kind of stammer. Her voice sounded like it had been dragged out of her. Greg''s eyes flicked to the guy groaning on the ground, curled up and holding his ribs. He wasn''t getting back up anytime soon. Good. Greg turned his focus back to her, and she flinched like she''d been caught doing something wrong. "It''s fine," Greg said, shrugging. Like it was just a fight. Just some asshole. Like it wasn''t her fault. "You''re fine." She didn''t look convinced. Her back stayed flush against the wall, but her hands slid down slightly, like she was starting to believe the brick wasn''t going to hold her up forever. Her lips parted, and for a second it looked like she was trying to say something else. Nothing came out. Greg gave her a moment. No pressure. No rush. People had to process these things in their own time. "You got a name?" he asked finally, casually, like he was asking for the time. She blinked, her mouth working around the question like she hadn''t expected it. "Cherie," she said, soft, almost too quiet. Her voice cracked on the second syllable, and she swallowed hard, like she hated how weak it sounded. "Greg," he said. He kept his tone even, level, like he was handing her something solid to hold onto. "You''re okay, Cherie." When Greg said the words, her whole body seemed to sag, and before he could blink, she was on him, arms wrapped tight around his middle like a lifeline. The movement was so sudden, so unexpected, that for a split second he froze, hands halfway raised, unsure where to put them. She pulled back just as fast, her face inches from his, her wide eyes locking onto his. For a moment, it felt like the entire alley had gone silent except for the pounding of her pulse. Or his. "My hero," she whispered, her voice soft and trembling, but with something underneath. Something he couldn''t name. Then it hit. Like a wave that wasn''t a wave, a sensation he couldn''t put his finger on. Greg blinked, and then¡ª Whoa, what the fuck. The blue words flashed across his mind like a neon sign:
He stepped back instinctively, his hands coming up between them as if to ward something off that wasn''t there. "The hell was that?" Her face twisted in confusion, her hands still hovering, raised cautiously like she might reach for him again. "What?" she said, her voice small but searching. And then it came again, the same strange feeling, but sharper, like a hook had snagged something in his head and was trying to pull.
Greg''s eyes narrowed. His pulse was steady, his breath even, but his brain was kicking into overdrive. It had been¡ªwhat, weeks? Weeks since Gamer''s Mind had done anything like this. Not since that rooftop, when Sparky called, and the Empire¡ªyeah, he didn''t want to go back there. He hadn''t even felt it since then. But now? That. He stared at her. Cherie''s face was a perfect mask of fear and confusion, her lips slightly parted, her eyes flicking to his fists as they clenched instinctively. Was she¡ª? No, she didn''t look like she could be. She looked terrified. But then again¡­ Greg sighed, forcing himself to loosen his grip. "That." She shook her head quickly, almost frantically. "I don''t know wh¡ª"
Greg took another step back, the space between them finally letting him think clearly. His jaw tightened as he scanned her face, her hands, her posture. Nothing screamed threat, but this was Brockton Bay. Threats didn''t always scream. Analyze.
Drama Queen HP: 150/150 Trait: Socio-Emotive Influence Spectrum Hailing from a background rich in questionable parenting and free-range debauchery, Cherie turned "walking away" into an art form. Fleeing Canada and a dad who thought ''Daddy issues'' needed a new benchmark, she didn''t just escape; she practically invented ghosting. Her life reads like a bad reality show where every vice was on the table before she could even spell ''hedonism.'' Now in America, she''s the girl who might remind you of that one friend who''s into all the drama but claims they hate it¡ªexcept, with her, the drama really does follow.
"...You''re a cape," he said finally, his voice low, careful. Her eyes widened even more, and she flinched, the fear in her face somehow looking sharper, more real. "I¡ªyeah. Y-yeah," she stammered, her shoulders hunching slightly like she expected him to hit her. Greg sighed again, less irritated, more resigned. "Look, I''m not gonna hurt you or anything, okay?" He kept his voice calm, even. "Just¡­ Your power. What is it?" If she lies, she''s going down. She hesitated. Her lips trembled like she was searching for the right words, and then they came out all at once, rushed and shaky. "I-it''s instinctive. It makes people who like me¡­ like me more. Like a little bit more, but it''s useless in a fight, you know."
HIs hands twitched. Greg raised an eyebrow. "''Like'' you?" He glanced pointedly at the man groaning on the ground, still clutching his ribs. Her eyes dropped, and her voice was quieter this time. "He¡­ liked me in a bad way. Too much." Greg nodded slowly. "Okay." He didn''t press further. Not here, not now. Whatever this was, it was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. "I gotta head out," he said, jerking his thumb at the guy on the ground. "Can you¡­ I dunno¡­ call the cops? Or the enforcers or something? For him?" She nodded quickly, her hair falling into her face. "Y-yeah. Thank you." "No problem," Greg said, already stepping back toward the mouth of the alley, not turning his back on her just yet. "Stay safe, okay?" "I will," she said softly, her voice almost swallowed by the distance. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg was almost all the way back to the store he''d left Sparky and Theo at, the faint buzz of the boardwalk''s nightlife starting up as the sun began to set. The distant scent of saltwater mixed with fried food, and the neon lights from nearby shops cast shifting colors over the pavement. His thoughts were somewhere else, back on Emma and Taylor and Sophia (of all people) when a small figure darted out from the corner of his eye, fast but clumsy, and before he could fully register it, she collided with him. The girl¡ªno older than nine¡ªbounced off his side like a pinball, stumbling backward. She was small, with messy black hair tied into pigtails and a face sticky with melted strawberry shortcake popsicle. Her clothes looked like she''d been in them all day, a little wrinkled but still cute in that mismatched kid way¡ªbright purple shorts and a neon yellow t-shirt with a cartoon bear on it. The half-eaten popsicle she''d been holding went flying, spinning end-over-end in the air like a sugary comet of doom. Greg moved without thinking. One hand shot out, catching her by the stomach before she hit the pavement, while his other blurred forward, snatching the popsicle by the stick an inch before it hit the ground. He blinked. That was close. Straightening up, he carefully set the dazed girl back on her feet, brushing her off like it was no big deal. She stared up at him, wide-eyed, her popsicle back in her hand before she even realized it. Greg crouched slightly, meeting her gaze with a lopsided grin. "You okay there?" She blinked again, glancing down at the popsicle, then back at him. "Uhhh¡­ uh, yeah! Thanks, mister!" Greg''s grin faltered for a split second. Mister? Am I old enough for mister? He wasn''t sure if he should feel insulted or just accept his apparent entry into "adult" territory. "No problem," he said smoothly, standing back up as she shuffled off, moving much slower this time. He watched her go, his grin softening into something closer to a smile. Ever since that day with the ABB, pulling those imprisoned girls out of that hellhole, he''d found himself wondering¡ªwhat would it be like to be a big brother? A sigh escaped him before he realized it, and he muttered under his breath, "Man, I want one of those." "Uhhh," came a voice from behind him. Greg spun around, his eyes widening slightly as Sparky and Theo stood there, arms full of black boxes and bags. Sparky''s face was somewhere between disbelief and mock horror, while Theo''s was, as always, unreadable but definitely judging him. "Wait, no¡ª" Greg started, hands shooting up in protest. Sparky raised an eyebrow, his expression deadpan. "FBI?" 7.11a Grief 7.11 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? He adjusted his grip on the discarded train axle, gloved fingers straining against the cold, greasy metal. The thing weighed a ton¡ªliterally¡ªand his arms trembled as he forced it upward, breath coming in short, sharp bursts behind his mask. "Thirteen..." The axle wobbled slightly as he pushed again, his muscles screaming in protest. "...Fourteen." One more. Just one more. "Fifteen!" he growled, locking his elbows and holding it at the peak for a split second before letting it crash to the ground with a thunderous thud. The impact kicked up a small cloud of dust, the weight pressing into the dirt and leaving a shallow dent. Greg sat up on the makeshift bench he''d dragged over earlier, his chest heaving as a faint blue screen popped up in his mind''s eye. He grinned, the ache in his arms fading just enough to let him enjoy the sight.
"Hell yeah," he muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. That made a total of five today, after an hour of this. Ten sets of fifteen reps, lifting a one-ton axle in the middle of an abandoned trainyard, and it had gotten him as much progress as a half-hour of regular weights two months ago. "Fucking crazy," he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. The teenager leaned back for a moment, peeling off the domino mask that had been stuck to his face. He pulled a small, red cloth from his inventory with a quick flick of his fingers, the faint blue glow of his power sparking for just a second. Wiping the sweat off his face, he took a moment to let his arms recover, rolling his shoulders to shake off the ache. "...man," Greg muttered to himself as he finished and sent the cloth back to his inventory, snapping both his domino and his proper red helmet-mask back into place. "I know you''re not supposed to lift without a spotter, but who else is supposed to spot me? Glory Girl?" He froze mid-thought, one hand rising to tap the chin of his helmet. "Actually¡­" His mind wandered, unbidden, to a very specific platinum blonde¡ªGlory Girl, superhero Barbie herself, flashing that All-American smile while probably bench-pressing a bus. Before the fantasy could fully develop, his phone rang, its loud and obnoxious ringtone jerking him back to reality. He let out a sigh, digging into his pocket and pulling out the phone. Sparky''s name flashed on the screen, obnoxiously bold, like the ringtone wasn''t enough of a hint. "Oi, sk8er boi," Greg answered tiredly, playing it up like he just woke up as he tilted his head back and let his helmeted gaze wander toward the sky. "Where''d I say we''re meeting again?" Sparky''s voice came through the line, sharp and annoyed. "Are you serious right now? You skipped school to train, and you don''t even know where we''re going?" Greg grinned, sitting up fully. "You skipped too, Sparky. Glass houses and all that." "YOU BEGGED US TO SKIP!" Sparky snapped, his voice hitting a pitch that made Greg almost chuckle. "I don''t recall."
Greg was on his knees in the middle of the street, hands clasped together in the most dramatic begging pose imaginable. "PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA¡ª" Sparky stood in front of him, arms crossed and expression deadpan, his golden eyes glaring down with the kind of annoyance usually reserved for toddlers throwing tantrums. "No," Sparky said flatly. Next to him, Theo raised an eyebrow, cutting in calmly. "Is this what desperation looks like?"
The blond blinked, shaking off the flashback. "Doesn''t sound like me." Sparky''s sigh was audible, even through the static of the call. "You''re impossible." Greg smirked, brushing some dirt off his gloves. "Sensei Greg would never beg his students." "...kill yourself," Sparky muttered flatly. "And change my fuckin'' ringtone!" Greg''s grin widened. "Kill me yourself, you coward." He hung up the phone with a sharp tap and shoved it back into his pocket, already picturing Sparky''s inevitable rant as he stood up from the bench and started walking. As he rounded the corner of a bunch of turned over train cars, the crunch of his boots against gravel filled the quiet. above him, the skeletal remains of derelict cars cast jagged shadows against the pale midday light. The air smelled like rust and oil, the kind of scent that stuck to your clothes if you hung around too long. Unable to help himself, his thoughts wandered. This whole "team" thing¡­ it wasn''t just for show. He''d meant it when he said they needed to train together, to know each other''s strengths and weaknesses. But there was something else, something he wasn''t saying out loud. Taylor''s words from the other night still lingered in his mind, heavy and sharp. Everything he thought he knew about Emma, everything he''d believed about her, had shifted. Mercs and gang wars¡­ shit was changing. And it wasn''t as neat or heroic as he thought it was going to be. His phone buzzed again in his pocket, a different ringtone, but he ignored it, jaw tightening slightly. This wasn''t just about training. It was about being ready¡ªfor everything. Greg stood, brushing himself off and stretching his arms above his head. His muscles ached a bit, but it was the good kind of ache ¡ª the kind that told him he was getting somewhere. "All right," he muttered to himself, cracking his neck. He kicked a loose piece of gravel, watching it skitter across the ground, the sound sharp in the stillness. The faint hum of the city felt distant out here, muted by the sheer emptiness around him. Then came the familiar sound of feet hitting metal, breaking the quiet like a drumbeat. Greg looked up just as a figure in black made his entrance. Sparky moved with grace, flipping through the air with a precision that screamed practice. He hit the top of a rusted train car with a solid thud, crouching low for half a second before standing tall like he''d rehearsed the move a hundred times. Knowing him, maybe he had. Greg stopped mid-step, watching as his friend straightened up. Sparky''s skills had gotten way better since the first time they''d gone out, back when he''d been all nerves and raw energy. Now? He moved like he owned the space, every flip and landing honed to make what he had look incredible. And speaking of looking incredible, Sparky''s updated costume was fucking legit. Gone was the cheap tracksuit, the one that looked like it had come straight out of a thrift shop clearance bin. Now he was decked out in gear that could''ve been ripped from the pages of a comic. The matte black compression jacket had ribbed shoulders and yellow chest accents that looked both sleek and practical. The black cargo pants were tapered perfectly, with reflective, yellow zippers adding just the right amount of flash. His gloves¡ªblack, fingerless, with padded knuckles¡ªlooked like they could smash through glass without a scratch. The mouth mask, though? That was next-level. Matte black with a vertical, yellow stripe and a subtle honeycomb texture. The goggles matched perfectly, streamlined and yellow, with shatter-resistant lenses that caught the faint sunlight. His high-top sneakers were black and yellow too, armored at the heels, because why not. And to top it all off, he had a lightweight, black hoodie-cape with a yellow stylized "A" logo that somehow managed to look both edgy and professional. Greg tilted his head, smirking under his mask. "Yo, Apex." Sparky adjusted his goggles slightly, the yellow lenses catching the light as he turned his head slightly, tilting it in a way that only Sparky could make look vaguely condescending. "Sup... Hardkour." There it was again, that slight drawl Sparky used when saying his cape name. Greg couldn''t decide if it was supposed to be mocking or if Sparky just genuinely hated how the name was spelled. Probably both. No appreciation for flair. Greg stepped forward, glancing around. "Where''s..." he trailed off, pausing as he tried to figure out what to call Theo. Godbrother felt a little too impersonal, and there was no way he was saying the guy''s real name while in costume, "...the other one?" Sparky blinked, tilting his head again, this time with a thoughtful hum. "Oh yeah, he does need a name, doesn''t he?" he said, almost to himself. Then, with zero urgency, he raised a gloved hand and pointed behind Greg. Greg turned, slow and deliberate, until he caught sight of him. Floating. Theo was floating. Like, casually floating. Greg blinked once, then twice, trying to process what he was seeing. Theo, his godbrother¡ªthe same kid who''d dragged his feet all through Vanguard yesterday like it was a chore¡ªwas now hovering at least a dozen feet in the air and moving towards them at a slow, but steady pace. His godbrother was descending lightly onto a train car opposite Sparky, his movements so casual it was almost unnerving. Unlike his aerokinetically enhanced leaps as Sir Prodigy, this wasn''t forceful or showy. No, this was smooth, controlled, effortless. Theo didn''t just land; he drifted, like gravity had decided to give him a pass for the day. Since when can he do that? Still, the floating wasn''t the only thing worth noticing. Theo''s costume was sharp. Matte silver dominated the look, the robe-like drop-shoulder hoodie giving him a vaguely futuristic vibe. White accents lined the edges, pairing neatly with the high collar and the chainmail-textured compression top beneath. His joggers were loose but tactical, the white paneling breaking up the silver in a way that made the whole thing look intentional rather than overdesigned. Chunky, high-top sneakers with silver accents completed the look, but it was the mask that stood out the most. The full-face mask was matte silver like the rest of his outfit, but the LED display on it was the real kicker¡ªa simple white smiley face that seemed to shift slightly, reacting to Theo''s expressions even if the guy''s actual face was hidden. "What¡­" Greg spoke out, his tone flat with disbelief. "You fly now?" he asked, still blinking while his brain was catching up. "He flies now," Sparky chimed in, nodding slowly as he crossed his arms. "Also, you know, I said the same thing when I saw him." Greg clasped his hands together over his chest in an exaggerated heart shape, leaning forward like he was about to deliver a Valentine''s Day confession. "Twinsies," he said in a singsong, cutesy voice, dripping with fake sweetness. Sparky didn''t miss a beat, flipping him the bird without even looking. "Eat me." Theo''s voice came through his mask, calm and just slightly distorted, which made it all the funnier. "Strictly speaking, It''s not flight, per se. It''s a three step process, involving limiting my personal gravity, locking my relative buoyancy in place to an extent, and providing thrust in increments using what you termed... ''Mage Hand.''" Greg squinted at him for a long moment, then made a show of dragging a hand down his mask-covered face. "...You just described flying. Shut up." Theo shrugged like it didn''t really matter. "I''ve been working on the ''spells'' as you called them. Made some rather decent headway." Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! "Nice." Greg pointed at him, tilting his head. "Also, sick voice changer." Theo inclined his head slightly, the LED face on his mask smiling wider. "Thank you." Sparky leaped from the train car, tucking into a tight flip that twisted him midair before he landed with a solid crunch a few yards away from Greg. The impact sent a puff of dust into the air, settling in his wake as he straightened up with a spring in his step. His body language was practically electric¡ªevery movement screamed cocky excitement. The way his golden eyes practically glowed behind his goggles told Greg all he needed to know¡ªSparky was grinning like a maniac under that mask. He couldn''t even blame him. Hell, if he were being honest, Greg still got a kick out of the way his powers let him move. Sure, Greg could almost sorta kinda pull off proper flight when he wanted to as Sir Prodigy with the wind powers, but there was something about running and jumping¡ªfeeling the air rush past his face¡­ Moving like that never got old. "So, bossman," Sparky said, his tone light and teasing. "What''s the training on the agenda?" Before Greg could answer, Theo hopped down from the opposite car. His palms were turned downward, a subtle shift of energy slowing his descent as he hit the halfway point until he landed gently, smoothly, and almost soundlessly on the gravel, the faintest crunch betraying his touchdown. "From what he said yesterday," Theo spoke up, the electronic distortion from his voice changer giving his word a robotic edge, "It''s teamwork-related, isn''t it?" Sparky rolled his eyes so hard Greg could practically hear it. "I knew that, genius. I was just making conversation." "Poor conversation starter," Theo countered without hesitation, his mask''s LED display flickering into a neutral smile that felt just the right amount of smug. "Your face is a poor conversation starter," Sparky shot back, crossing his arms. Theo didn''t miss a beat. "Your insults also leave a lot to be desired." "Not what your girlfriend said last night," Sparky fired back. "I don''t have one," Theo replied, his tone so dry it could''ve started a fire. "Oh, really?" Sparky dragged out the words in a sing-song tone, leaning forward like he was about to share some juicy gossip. "I wonder why, fatass." Greg let out a long breath through his nose, feeling the urge to smack both of them rising rapidly. Instead, he tapped into his aerokinesis, amplifying his voice to cut through the bickering. "SHUT UP!" The force of the shout rippled through the air, kicking up loose dirt and sending a faint vibration through the ground. Theo''s hoodie shifted slightly from the pressure, and Sparky instinctively straightened up, his posture suddenly far less cocky. Both of them snapped their attention to Greg like scolded kids caught goofing off. Greg folded his arms, the blank white lenses of his mask making his glare all the more menacing as he dropped his voice lower. "No talking when I''m talking." Theo hesitated then tilted his head slightly as he started to speak. "But you weren''t t¡ª" Greg turned his head sharply toward Theo, his mask''s lenses catching the light just enough to make his glare look more menacing than a featureless glance could be. "The fuck did I just say?" The aerokinetic push in his tone hit harder this time, making the edges of Theo''s robe-like oversized silver hoodie sway ever so slightly. "Yeah, Theo," Sparky cut in, his tone all mock-sincerity as he jabbed a thumb toward Greg. "The fuck did he just say?" Greg snapped his attention to Sparky next, his body language rigid. For a second, the other teen actually looked like he might take a step back. Instead, he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender, his body language practically oozing my bad. Greg exhaled slowly, shaking his head. It was something he was still getting used to ever since the first day they met¡ªthe slightest comment might set one of them off and then they''d start bickering back and forth like five year olds. "Idiots, both of you," he muttered under his breath. Even with their faces mostly covered, Greg could tell neither of them really appreciated the comment. Sparky shifted his weight like he was about to argue, and Theo''s mask flickered with a less-than-neutral smile. But neither said a word, not with Greg still glaring at them like a disappointed dad. He sighed again, running a gloved hand down his face. "Listen up!" He took a small step forward, his voice steady but edged with the same authority. "Now, what we''re going to do¡ª" BOOM! The deafening crash cut him off mid-sentence, the sound of shearing metal following immediately after. The noise was so loud it echoed off the train cars, rattling the air and making Greg''s stomach drop for a split second. He flinched, spinning around toward the source of the sound as his instincts kicked into overdrive. His voice cut through the chaos, sharp and frustrated. "Oh, what now?!" Blue eyes narrowed, scanning the ruined train car that had toppled over like a drunk giant. The mangled metal groaned under its own weight, steam hissing out of cracks like the whole thing was furious it had been moved. Then, like some nightmare rising out of the wreckage, a man pulled himself free. Big guy¡ªreal big, like taller than Emma''s dad big¡ªwith short red hair that practically glowed under the dull sunlight filtering through the yard. He wore a battered canvas jacket over a red shirt, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show forearms that looked like they were big enough to probably bench-press a small car. Dark denim jeans, scuffed brown boots, and a bandana covering his mouth completed the look. Cowboy chic, except this guy looked like he used cows as weights. Analyze.
HP: 615/615 Stampede Stomper Trait: Kinetic Momentum Escalation
Greg''s vision flickered red, that unmistakable tag burning in his mind''s eye: Villain. Merc, probably. He gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists so hard his knuckles ached. Theo muttered something under his breath, but Hardkour couldn''t hear it over the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears. The guy stumbled a little as he got free, muttering something Greg couldn''t make out before standing tall, wiping a hand over his face. He slapped his forehead with a groan loud enough to carry across the trainyard. "Fucking hell¡­ I missed!" Greg blinked. What? Missed what? A second voice called out, sharp and smug. "How''d ya miss?" Greg''s head snapped up to see another guy perched on a train car like it was a barstool. This one looked sleeker, his whole vibe screaming high noon outlaw with a flair for drama. A maroon poncho draped over one shoulder, leaving his right arm free, which was probably convenient for the throwing knives strapped across his chest. Or the shiny coins glinting in his holster like they were some secret weapon. His bandana¡ªembroidered gold sunburst over his mouth¡ªcaught the light, making him look even more obnoxious. And that hat? Straight out of a western, complete with a bullet hole in the brim. Analyze.
HP: 185/185 Trickster Shot Trait: Kinetic Acceleration Vector
Who was this guy? Greg''s stomach churned as another tag burned red in his head. Walker shrugged, scratching his head like a cartoon bear. "I dunno," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "Felt charged enough." "Clearly not," Ranger shot back, the words laced with mockery. He twirled something between his fingers¡ªa coin?¡ªbefore letting it fall back into his holster with a practiced flick. "Maybe try again without embarrassing yourself." "Don''t tempt me," Walker grumbled, kicking at a piece of debris. "Reckon I could flatten you next." "Good luck with that," came a third voice, this one cold enough to freeze the air. Greg''s attention snapped to the shadows just beyond the wreckage, where a third figure emerged slowly and casually, almost strutting. Tall, lean, and wrapped in black, his long duster swayed slightly as he moved. The coat''s frayed edges looked like they''d seen every fight this guy had walked away from, and the burn marks didn''t help. His gloves were slim, designed for precision, and his hat¡ªflat-brimmed and immaculate¡ªdidn''t fit the rest of his wrecked aesthetic. The bandana covering his face was the worst part: faded skull print, like Death himself had decided to cosplay. All in all¡­ God, these guys are lame. Analyze.
HP: 222/222 Dry as the Desert Trait: Localized Necrotic Decay
Greg''s gaze narrowed further, the words flashing red across his vision. "Oh, great. More of ''em," Sparky muttered behind him. His tone was half-annoyed, half-nervous, and Greg didn''t blame him. Last time mercs showed up, Sparky got tossed like a dodgeball. "Hardkour," Sparky said, his voice sharper now. "Who the fuck are these guys?" Greg didn''t look back. His voice dropped, growing rougher as he shifted into the mindset that came with the mask. "Trouble," he said simply. Sparky''s tone didn''t lighten. "Oh wow, that''s fucking helpful." Greg didn''t bother with a comeback, his focus locked on the three figures in front of him. His body tensed, every nerve screaming at him to move, to strike first before they could. His fists clenched tighter, the leather of his gloves groaning against the strain. Trouble didn''t even begin to cover it. Walker, Ranger, Texas. Three against three. Odds weren''t terrible, but with Theo still green as grass and Sparky''s last encounter ending in a bruised ego and body, Greg couldn''t afford to let anything slide. The grin that spread under his mask didn''t reach his eyes. Grief 7.11b Grief 7.11b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Hardkour''s fingers clenched tighter, his red gloves stretching audibly under the tension, each breath filtered through his helmet''s mesh as he faced the trio of villains. The air felt like it had thickened somehow, not from humidity but from the weight of what was about to go down. Texas, standing out front like some brooding antihero who had completely lost the plot, was making no effort to hide his relaxed menace. His boots scraped gravel as he took one deliberate step forward, his duster swaying faintly like it had a personality of its own. The skull on his bandana caught the light, making it look like it was laughing at them. Behind Texas, Walker casually stretched his massive shoulders, the motion somehow managing to be both lazy and intimidating. It was like watching tectonic plates shift, slow but promising devastation if they ever got going. Meanwhile, Ranger flicked a coin between his fingers with the casual skill of someone who''d spent too much time practicing for that one party trick no one asked for. The metallic tink-tink filled the silence between the three teens and the villains, like a countdown only he could hear. "Hello," Texas greeted, his voice calm, deliberate, and dry as the desert he was apparently named after. "I''m Texas. This here''s Walker"¡ªhe gestured lazily to the man-mountain behind him¡ª"and Ranger." A nod toward the gunslinger still playing with his coin. "I''m assuming you''re Hardkour." Hardkour tilted his head, his lenses narrowing slightly. "And if I say you assumed wrong?" Texas''s eyes crinkled behind the bandana, a clear smirk in his tone. "Then I''m assuming you''re a dirty liar." Ranger chuckled, stepping up onto a bent steel beam like he owned it. "So, uh¡­ either we got bad intel, or this fella''s real popular. Reckon he sent out invites?" Texas sighed, the kind of sigh you''d give when your idiot friend wouldn''t stop making jokes at a funeral. "You think I planned for this? Hell, I didn''t even bring my good gloves." "Wouldn''t be the first time," Ranger fired back, his tone mockingly sweet. "You remember Chicago, don''t ya?" "This ain''t Chicago," Texas shot a pointed glare his way, his voice sharper now, "and you ain''t funny. Focus." Walker didn''t even acknowledge the back-and-forth as he cracked his neck and grinned. "Well, three''s just a party, ain''t it? Let''s give ''em somethin'' to dance to." He took a step forward and even the ground seemed to groan under his weight. Hardkour didn''t flinch, didn''t move, though his mind raced through the info he''d pulled on these guys. Levels in the 20s, decent powers but nothing world-ending. Dangerous if underestimated, though ¡ª especially since Walker''s whole gimmick was turning into an unstoppable wrecking ball. He snapped back toward his team, moving so fast his helmeted head had to be nothing but a red blur. Analyze. Analyze. Sparky on his right, shifting into a low, tense stance, and Theo floating just behind him and to the left like some kind of ominous ghost in a smiley-face mask.
Alias: Apex Title: Karate Kid HP: 600/600 MP: 20/20 WP: 200/200 Who else but Sparky? Your one and only best friend in the world. Sure, he''s a dick on occasion, but so are you. He''s always had your back before and, in the last two weeks, he''s proven to be a suitable sidekick. Just don''t call him that. With an instinctive aptitude for martial arts and physical intuition that nearly matches your own rapid absorption of skills and talents, he can take down entire groups of normals with nearly as much ease as you had a month and a half ago
Alias: [None] Title: Sorcerer (Apprentice) HP: 400/400 MP: 200/200 WP: 20/20 Your godbrother, Theo. Sure, he''s been a bit weird ever since you gave him powers, but he''s still Theo. He seems to take to mana and intellectual stuff with the same ease Sparky has with fighting and physical stuff. Do you really wanna know why he''s so obsessed with the melting points of various metals at 3 in the morning? Of course not¡­ But, he figured out how to develop actual Spells so you don''t wanna ignore him either in case he makes a Gigaflare by accident. After all, you like being alive.
Wait¡­ Greg''s eyes widened, his bright blues darting from side to side behind his mask looking for something. When it didn''t show, his grin became downright evil. These guys are lower leveled than my guys¡­ and no quest¡­ means¡­ "Apex," Hardkour said, his voice barely above a growl. "Yeah¡­" Sparky''s voice had dropped too, quieter now but still steady. "The guy in front," Hardkour continued, keeping his gaze locked on Texas. "Don''t let him touch your skin. Got it?" Sparky pumped his fists once, the soft thud of leather on leather punctuating his response. "Got it." Hardkour tilted his head slightly toward Theo. "Player Three." Theo''s head cocked ever so slightly, his tone quiet and measured as he replied, "Yes¡­ boss?" Hardkour''s gaze flicked toward the metallic debris scattered around them. "How good is your metal control?" Theo paused for the briefest moment before answering, his voice even. "I don''t like to brag." Sparky let out a low chuckle, his posture shifting just enough as he rolled his shoulders. "That means it''s pretty shit." "No," Theo replied without missing a beat, "that''s what you''d mean if you said it. I simply don''t like to brag." Hardkour raised a hand, the sharp motion cutting through their bickering like a knife. "Answers, Player Three." Theo''s head dipped slightly. "It''s functional. I can manage." Hardkour turned back to face the villains, his shoulders squaring. "You''re taking the guy with the bullet hole in his hat. He''s a shooter. Keep his junk off me." "Understood," Theo said, his voice clipped but certain. "Hardkour¡­" Sparky said, voice questioning. The blond boy in question clicked his tongue. "What?" "Promise you won''t kill these guys." Hardkour clicked his tongue again, mouth angled down in a harsh frown. "Only killed one out of fifteen, I have better control than that." He did, honestly. Greg knew he was wanted for at least a dozen confirmed murders. He didn''t really have any interest in getting any more added to his body count. As long as they didn''t piss him off too bad, at least. "What do you mean, you already kill-" "On three¡­" Hardkour growled to cut off Sparky, his voice dropping even lower, each word deliberate. "Two¡­" His fists clenched tighter, the leather groaning under the strain. "Break their fucking legs." The trio moved as one, their motion sharp and sudden, cutting through the stillness like the snap of a rubber band stretched too far. Hardkour surged forward, his boots hitting the ground hard enough to send a faint ripple of dust in his wake as he locked eyes on Walker, the big merc''s grin widening like he''d just been handed the world''s biggest beer and told to have fun. Behind Hardkour, Sparky cut right, aiming for Texas with a speed that left a faint blur in the dusty air. Theo veered left, moving with that eerie smoothness Hardkour was only starting to get used to. His godbrother looked more like he was swimming through air than flying¡ªgraceful in a way that made Hardkour look and feel like a wrecking ball by comparison. Which, honestly, was fine. He wasn''t here to be pretty. He was here to hit things. Walker''s boots slammed into the ground, each step heavy enough to shake the wreckage around them. The guy was built like a linebacker who moonlighted as a construction crane, and his outfit only added to the vibe. That canvas jacket, red shirt, and steel-toed boots screamed "practical ranch hand," but the way he carried himself? Pure brute. His bandana-covered face did nothing to hide the intensity of his hazel eyes, which locked onto Hardkour like a missile tracking its target. Hardkour didn''t slow. His boots pounded the gravel as he closed the distance, fists clenched so tight his gloves whined in protest. "Yo, cowboy!" he called, his voice cutting through the chaos. "You want a dance partner? Let''s tango!" Walker snorted, a low rumble of amusement that matched his lumbering steps. "You talk big, kid," he drawled, his voice muffled but no less menacing. "Hope you hit big too." Hardkour didn''t dignify that with a response¡ªhe just lunged. His right fist shot out like a piston, aiming square for Walker''s chest. Walker twisted mid-swing, forcing Hardkour to pivot fast to avoid the follow-through. The big guy wasn''t just slow¡ªhe was deliberate. "Not bad," Walker said, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a workout. "But you''re gonna have to do better than that." Hardkour didn''t wait for him to finish. He pivoted, dropping low to sweep Walker''s legs out from under him. But the big guy was faster than he looked, which wasn''t saying a lot. Walker jumped¡ªwell, more like stomped¡ªupward, his boots hitting the ground with enough force to send a shockwave rippling outward. Hardkour managed to keep his footing, gritting his teeth as the vibrations rattled through his bones. "Okay, fine," Hardkour muttered, taking a step back to reevaluate. "You wanna play hardball? Let''s play." Walker didn''t hesitate. He charged, each step gaining momentum like a freight train building speed. Hardkour''s Danger Sense flared, a sharp prickling at the base of his skull, but he didn''t move. Not yet. He waited, watching the way Walker''s shoulders tensed, the way his right fist cocked back. And then, at the last possible second, Hardkour ducked. Walker''s punch missed by inches, the force of it whipping the air past Hardkour''s head. But Hardkour wasn''t done. As Walker''s momentum carried him forward, Hardkour planted his feet and slammed an open palm into the side of the man''s face. The impact sent Walker stumbling, his boots skidding across the gravel as he struggled to regain his balance. "Still not enough?" Hardkour called, his tone mocking as he straightened. "Man, I thought you''d hit harder. The force of a freight train, but you can''t break the speed limit?" Walker growled, a low, dangerous sound that made the hairs on Hardkour''s neck stand on end. "You got a death wish, kid?" he snarled, turning back to face him. His movements were slower now, more deliberate, but the tension in his frame gave off a nervous energy that Greg could taste. Meanwhile, Sparky was a blur of motion, weaving around Texas like a boxer dodging jabs. The black-wearing villain moved with the kind of trained precision that screamed experience, each step calculated, each strike deliberate as he reached out to latch onto Sparky time and time again. But Sparky was faster, darting in and out of range like a mosquito too quick to swat. "Hardkour!" Sparky shouted, his voice strained but steady. "How''s it going over there?" "Fantastic!" Hardkour shot back, dodging another slow swing from Walker. "Just bonding with my new buddy here. You?" "Livin'' the dream!" Sparky replied, landing a quick jab to Texas''s side that had the man groaning, before leaping back out of reach before the man could do to him what his hand just did to a piece of metal sticking out from a train car. "Livin'' the dream!" Hardkour smirked, his focus snapping back to Walker as the big man charged again. Like last time, he was ready. He waited for Walker to close the gap, watching the way his shoulders bunched, the way his right foot planted just a little too firmly. And then, just as Walker''s fist shot forward, Hardkour ducked low and slammed both glowing yellow palms into the man''s chest, Reinforcement doing its job like a pro. The impact sent Walker skidding backward, his boots tearing up gravel as he struggled to stay upright. Hardkour straightened, his chest heaving as he adjusted his stance. "You done yet?" he asked, his tone light but his grip tightening. "Or do you wanna keep embarrassing yourself?" Walker didn''t answer. He just grinned behind his bandana, his hazel eyes glinting with something dangerously close to amusement. "Kid," he said, his voice low and steady, "you ain''t seen nothin'' yet." "I mean, you''re right. I haven''t." Hardkour was starting to get a feel for Walker''s movements¡ªthe big guy was all power and no precision. The kind of bruiser who could turn a wall into powder but couldn''t land a clean hit to save his life. He ducked another wide swing from Walker, the man''s fist grazing the air above his head with a sound like a whip cracking. Man, he''s slow. Not exactly "buffering on a 90s internet connection" slow, but almost as slow as some of the non-capes he had fought before. Hardkour darted to the side, letting Walker lumber past him and slam into the side of a derailed train car. That said, even glancing blows from a guy like this could probably send him flying into next week, so Hardkour kept his steps light, slipping and weaving around Walker''s sluggish punches like a pro. "You''re gonna wear yourself out at this rate," Hardkour taunted, shaking out his arm. His gloves were still just a tad scuffed from the force of his earlier punches. Walker grunted in frustration, swinging another massive fist that barely missed Hardkour''s head as he narrowed his eyes. "You gonna dance all day, or you actually gonna hit back?" Hardkour grinned under his helmet, his voice calm but with a cocky edge. "Oh, okay, I just didn''t wanna hurt you too bad, but if you say so." He poured Reinforcement into his arm¡ªgolden light flickering around his forearm like the aurora borealis had decided to make a pit stop in his limb. His fist shot out, catching Walker in the gut with enough force to lift the man clean off his feet. The impact sounded like a bowling ball smashing into a brick wall, followed by Walker''s deep, wheezing gasp. Walker turned, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, knees shaking for just a second before he found his balance again. His hazel eyes sparkled with something halfway between amusement and genuine irritation. "Hoo boy, you got a punch on ya," he admitted, spitting off to the side. "Lemme guess¡ªfarm work?" "Sure, why not?" Hardkour shot back, watching Walker steady himself, knees shaking for just a second before he found his balance again. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Across the battlefield, Theo hovered mid-air, dodging a barrage of coins and ball bearings that Ranger flicked at him with surgical precision. Each projectile whizzed past, narrowly missing Theo''s silvery robes as he raised a hand. "Erde: Eisenruf!" Theo''s voice was calm, deliberate, and far too composed for someone under fire. The metal projectiles stopped mid-air, caught in an invisible field before joining the small cluster of floating debris. "Spells", as Theo had discovered, required a certain level of both imagination and certainty ¡ª binding his power''s effects to "incantations" allowed him to better control his power and direct it efficiently. "Mana" was a mysterious energy that Theo could direct through conscious focus alone but stray thoughts made that control waver. Verbalizing his intentions and using hand-gestures helped make things easier and the effects more predictable; sort of like a mental mnemonic for manipulating magic efficiently, but even that had problems ¡ª trying to bind the idea of a flame-spell to the word "Fire" just set things ablaze every time he thought about fire in general. Eventually, Theo realized he needed a language he understood with some fluency ¡ª so he would have a versatile arsenal of words and incantations to draw from ¡ª but which was not so comfortable that he would cast spells while thinking idle thoughts. Sadly for Theo, the only language he knew well enough to bastardize for use in his spellwork was German¡­ which had unfortunate connotations in Brockton Bay, especially given his family''s use of it to twist culture and ideology, but no matter. He would take it back and make it his own. To take it and make it his weapon against the Empire. Against his father. Ranger cocked his head, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, that''s cute," he drawled, flicking another coin that Theo snatched out of the air. "You gonna catch every one o'' these, or just the ones I don''t mean to hit you with?" Theo hovered a few feet above the broken ground, his baggy hoodie swaying slightly as he raised one hand and muttered another "Erde: Eisenruf." Ranger, still crouched behind a battered train car, flicked another coin with a sharp twist of his wrist. The coin zipped through the air like a bullet, but Theo barely moved. His fingers twitched as he muttered the spell he had formulated, and the coin stopped mid-flight, spinning lazily before joining the orbiting scrap metal around him. "Predictable," Theo said, his voice calm but cutting. "For someone with a power like yours, you''re incredibly boring." Ranger laughed, loud and sharp, as he stood up from his makeshift cover. His maroon poncho shifted with the movement, catching the wind. The bullet hole in his hat''s brim gave him a lopsided silhouette that somehow made him look even cockier. "Boring, huh?" He reached into his vest and flicked two coins at once, their trajectories splitting apart mid-air like they had minds of their own. "Well, sweetie, you ain''t seen nothin'' yet." Theo''s eyes¡ªhidden behind his expression-reactive mask¡ªnarrowed. His hand shot out, fingers splaying wide. "Erde: Eisenruf." The two coins stopped inches from him, their spin perfectly synchronized as they joined the growing constellation of metal hovering at his command. "Erde: Eisenpfeil! Schie?!" Theo''s other hand moved in a sharp, precise gesture, and several pieces of nearby debris formed together into a makeshift spear of rusted iron and twisted steel that flew toward Ranger in a line of sharp-edged destruction. Ranger ducked and twisted, his movements unnervingly fluid. The train car he''d been standing near bore the brunt of the attack, the metal groaning under the force as shards of steel embedded themselves deep into its side. Ranger emerged unscathed, his grin unfaltering. He spun another coin between his fingers, the metallic flick-flick sound loud against the tension. "Pathetic," Theo muttered, his voice carrying over the din of the fight. He lifted his hand again, and a larger piece of debris¡ªa rusted bolt as thick as a man''s wrist¡ªfloated up to join the arsenal around him. He flicked his wrist, and the bolt shot forward like a cannonball. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Ranger''s eyes widened slightly as he sidestepped, the massive projectile grazing his shoulder and slamming into the ground behind him with enough force to leave a shallow crater. "Oh-ho, now that''s more like it!" he called, still grinning. "Didn''t think you had it in you, kid." Theo didn''t respond, his focus razor-sharp as he brought his hands together. The pieces of metal around him began to orbit faster, a faint hum filling the air as they accelerated. The next barrage was already forming. Ranger, for his part, seemed almost delighted. "Keep ''em coming!" he taunted, tossing a coin high into the air before catching it again. "I like a good challenge. Builds character, y''know?" "You''re mistaking incompetence for character," Theo replied, his voice cool. He extended his arm, and several smaller shards of metal shot forward, converging on Ranger from multiple angles. Ranger spun on his heel, his poncho flaring out dramatically as he dodged each shard with precision that bordered on unnatural. A coin left his fingers mid-spin, aimed not at Theo but at one of the floating shards. The impact sent the shard hurtling back toward Theo, forcing him to raise a hand and catch it mid-air with another "Erde: Eisenruf." "You''re learning," Ranger said, mockingly. "Nice to see some growth. Warms my heart." Theo adjusted his stance slightly, his feet hovering just above the ground as he tilted his head to the right. "And yet you remain as unimpressive as ever. Fascinating." Ranger''s grin twitched, just for a moment, before he tossed two more coins. This time, they curved mid-air, one arcing high and the other low, forcing Theo to split his focus. With a flick of his wrist, he caught the higher coin first, but the lower one was faster, aimed squarely at his chest. Theo dropped slightly, letting the coin pass just above him, before flicking it back with a sharp motion. The redirected projectile zipped toward Ranger, who leaned back just enough for it to miss, the edge of the coin nicking his poncho. The Texan villain swung a hand behind him, the coin Theo had just shot back at him, reversing position immediately and launching back at the floating boy. A hiss left Theo''s lips unintended, forced to dodge in mid-air as it seared past him, the velocity somehow doubled from before. His gaze snapped back to Ranger, mask barely able to hide his quickened breathing. "Close," Ranger admitted, his grin returning. "You''ve got potential, kid. Shame you''re wasting it on a losing fight." Theo''s mask shifted slightly, the glowing smiley face turning into a thin, unimpressed line. "Bold words," he said, his tone flat as he recovered his breath, "for someone losing control of the battlefield." With another sharp motion, Theo sent the collected debris spinning outward in a coordinated strike, forcing Ranger to dive and roll to avoid the barrage. The older man landed in a crouch, his hat tilted slightly from the movement, but his grin never wavered. "You think you''re smart," Ranger said, standing slowly and brushing dust off his vest. "But smarts don''t mean jack if you can''t close the deal." He flicked another coin, the movement almost lazy, and it shot toward Theo like a missile. Theo caught it, of course, but this time, he didn''t send it back. Instead, he let it join the thin swirling mass of metal around him, his calm demeanor unshaken. "And you think bravado compensates for lack of strategy," Theo replied, raising his hand lazily again. "You''re not strong enough for that." A dozen meters away, Sparky crouched slightly, arms loose at his sides, his weight shifting back and forth on his toes like a boxer waiting for the bell. Across from him, Texas moved like a snake¡ªsmooth, deliberate, with a coiled tension that made every step feel heavier than it looked. He wasn''t bulky like Walker or flashy like Ranger; Texas radiated control, his wiry frame hiding a dangerous precision. Those pale blue eyes locked onto Sparky, cold and calculating, as if measuring every breath he took. Sparky didn''t wait. He lunged forward, closing the gap in a blur of black and yellow. His foot struck out in a high arc, aiming for Texas''s jaw, but the man stepped back just enough to dodge, his boots crunching softly against the ground. The kick missed by inches, and Sparky twisted mid-air, flipping back to his feet like it was all part of the plan. "Quick," Texas muttered, his voice low and dry, like gravel grinding against itself. "You''re good, for a green chickadee." Sparky smirked, rolling his shoulders as he reset his stance. "And you''re slow, old man." Texas didn''t respond with words. Instead, he shot forward, his movements faster than they had any right to be. His right hand lashed out, fingers splayed like claws, aiming for Sparky''s chest. Sparky ducked low, feeling the rush of air above him as the hand passed inches from his face. He spun on his heel, using the momentum to drive an elbow toward Texas''s ribs. The strike connected with a solid thud, but Texas barely flinched. "Cute," Texas said, his lips twitching under the bandana into what might''ve been a smirk. "But you''re gonna have to do better than that, sugar." Sparky''s eyes narrowed. "Sugar? What are you, a grandma?" He leapt back, putting distance between them, but Texas followed like a shadow. The man''s left hand shot out this time, but Sparky pivoted, narrowly avoiding the strike. He spun again, this time delivering a low kick aimed at Texas''s knee. The man moved just enough to absorb the blow, his booted foot stomping down to steady himself. Texas chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Playin'' games, huh? That''s fine. I''ll play too." The next exchange came fast. Texas pressed forward, his hands moving like strikes of a viper, each one calculated to cut off Sparky''s angles. Sparky dodged, ducked, and weaved, the air between them crackling with tension. A right hook aimed for Sparky''s temple was met with a parry, but the force behind it sent a jolt through his arm. He retaliated with a spinning kick, the edge of his sneaker grazing Texas''s shoulder as the man twisted away. "Not bad," Sparky muttered, breathing a little heavier now. "For someone pushing forty." Texas''s eyes narrowed. "Pushing forty? I''m twenty-eight, you little shit." Sparky grinned, hopping back a few paces. "Oh, sorry. I didn''t realize that''s when AARP started sending membership cards." Texas''s jaw tightened. "Funny." He suddenly crouched and slammed a hand onto the ground, the impact sending a faint ripple outward. At first, Sparky didn''t register the change. Then his foot shifted, the once-solid dirt beneath him crumbling into loose grains. Texas had destabilized the ground, turning it into something closer to sand. Sparky''s footing wobbled, his balance thrown as he stumbled to stay upright. "Problem for you is," Texas said, his voice sharper now, "I don''t lose. You''re just buying time until you figure that out." He lunged like a viper, hands darting out to take advantage of Sparky''s fault balance. Sparky''s arms flailed for half a second before instinct kicked in. He dropped into a cartwheel, his hands planting firmly on the unstable ground as he swung his legs overhead. The movement was fluid, almost effortless¡ªuntil the tip of his sneaker caught something solid. There was a loud crack. The world seemed to pause for a beat as Sparky''s kick connected with Texas''s face. The man''s head snapped back, his body following as he staggered, and fell to the ground. Sparky landed on his feet, crouching low and wide-eyed as his eyes widened in surprise. Only for them to dull again as Texas flipped back onto his feet. "Shit." Texas wiped his bandana with the back of his hand, his eyes locking onto Sparky. "Not bad, chickadee. try again." His tone was almost... encouraging. Like sparky was a kid learning to ride a bike. That was just annoying. The teenager shot forward, faster this time and Sparky''s foot snapped out. Texas''s hand moved to block it, eyes wide and eager as he shouted, "Gotcha!" ¡ªtoo slow to notice Sparky''s real strike as he spun fast enough to blur and the other sneaker connected squarely with his jaw, in the exact same place with a satisfying crack. This time, Texas flew back and dropped to the floor for a full second before Sparky let go of his breath. The villain lay motionless, his angular features slack beneath the bandana. Sparky straightened slowly, brushing the dust off his gloves as a grin spread across his face. "Well," he said, glancing down at the unconscious villain. "Guess you did lose." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Hardkour dodged another of Walker''s swings, darting to the side and delivering a rapid series of blows to the man''s ribs. Reinforcement made each punch land like a sledgehammer, but Walker barely flinched. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying himself. "Alright, kid," Walker said, his grin widening as he cracked his neck. "Lesson time. Hurt me once, shame on you. Twice? Well, that''s me." Hardkour snorted. "Nah, it''s you both times." Walker turned his head slightly, calling out to Ranger. "Hey, think fast. How good''s your pitchin'' arm today?" Ranger ducked another one of Theo''s projectiles, flashing a grin. "You thinkin'' what I think you''re thinkin''?" Walker braced himself, crouching slightly. "Yep. I''ll get the height, you give me the distance. Make sure I stick the landin''." "Oh, hell no," Hardkour muttered, watching as Walker charged toward Ranger, and the smaller man met him halfway. Ranger''s hand slapped onto Walker''s back, and with a flash of kinetic energy, Walker was hurled skyward like a human cannonball. "Dodge this!" Walker roared from several dozen meters in the air, his shadow growing larger as his massive frame plummeted back toward the ground. Hardkour stared up at the incoming meteor for a split second. "...Okay." He leapt back several meters, clearing the impact zone easily. "Fuck!" Walker slammed into the ground with the force of a wrecking ball, leaving a small crater and sending shockwaves through the debris. Train cars rattled, and dust rose in a choking cloud around him. Walker groaned as he pulled himself to his knees, but Hardkour was already moving. With a burst of speed, he closed the gap and launched himself into a flying knee, the blow connecting squarely with Walker''s jaw and sending him sprawling onto his back. The big man gasped, wheezing for breath, but Hardkour didn''t let up. He planted a gloved hand on Walker''s neck, leaning close enough for the glow of his helmet lenses to catch the cowboy''s hazel eyes. "You ever played Dungeons and Dragons?" Hardkour asked, his tone mockingly casual. Walker blinked, dazed. "Wha¡ª?" Hardkour grinned under his mask. "Shocking Grasp." Electricity surged from his palm, arcing through Walker''s body. The man seized up, his muscles locking as the current surged through him. After a moment, Walker''s eyes rolled back, and he went limp. "Well," Hardkour muttered, shaking his hand to dispel the last of the sparks. "Guess you failed your saving throw," he muttered, glancing toward the others. "Who''s n-oh." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Ranger crouched, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth under the maroon bandana. He flicked another coin into the air, watching Theo hover silently, unmoving, the space around him disturbingly quiet. No floating metal. No shards. No bolts. "Where''d all your toys go, kid?" Ranger asked, voice casual, though his eyes narrowed slightly as they flicked around the battlefield. Theo didn''t answer. The LED face on his mask had shifted into a calm, eerie smile. Ranger''s fingers tightened around the next coin, his gut prickling with something he hadn''t felt in a long while. Unease. He scanned the area more carefully, his gaze darting between Theo and the empty air around him. Nothing in immediate orbit. No incoming attack. Just silence. Then his eyes caught it. A faint glint above Theo''s shoulder, almost imperceptible in the light. His gaze traveled upward, following the shimmer of something metallic. Then another glint. And another. His grin faltered as he finally looked past Theo¡ªpast the immediate space and up, his eyes roaming across the sky. Above and around them, forming an enormous sphere, dozens of coins, ball bearings, and shards of scrap metal floated in perfect suspension. They hovered in formation, almost serene in their positioning, like stars caught in the middle of an invisible constellation. Their polished edges gleamed faintly as they shifted ever so slightly, catching the light. "You were never trying to hit me," he breathed, realization dawning fast and cold. Theo''s mask didn''t change, but somehow the LED smile looked sharper. The faint hum of mana resonated in the air as he clasped his gloved hands together with deliberate force. "Not yet," Theo said, his voice calm, clinical, almost bored. The lack of emotion made it worse. Ranger''s grin vanished, dropping into a faltering smirk. "Not yet?" He repeated, stepping back instinctively. His fingers twitched, but the coin he held felt pointless now, absurdly small in comparison to the massive trap hanging in the air. The Texan tried anyway, three coins launching from his palm at once in a desperation move. The floating teenager hissed, his hand twitching as a single coin''s edge cut through his sleeve. The sphere faltered, its orbit flickering for a split second. but Ranger''s smirk didn''t last long. Theo tilted his head slightly, as if examining a chessboard and finding his opponent''s king hopelessly exposed. Then, in a single, commanding motion, he clapped his hands together. The sound was sharp, ringing through the air like a judge''s gavel. "Erde: Eisenchor." The hum became a roar. The suspended metal didn''t just move¡ªit converged. Every single piece accelerated toward the center point with terrifying speed, slicing through the air with a whistling shriek. For a split second, the sound was almost musical, a metallic harmony vibrating in perfect unison. Then it hit. From every direction, the metal slammed into Ranger''s body, striking him like a collapsing star. The force sent him flying backward, his poncho whipping in the air before his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. The coins and shards scattered harmlessly to the ground around him, their purpose fulfilled. The discordant clangor of all that scrap clattering to the earth was like metallic rainfall, a sound of its like not heard in Brockton Bay since Iron Rain had fallen. Theo hovered there, his LED face unchanging, the serene smile still glowing faintly. He watched as Ranger''s body slumped, unmoving, the man''s hat rolling off to reveal a mop of dark, sweat-soaked hair. The slow clap echoed off the wreckage, faint and deliberate, pulling Theo''s attention from the mess he''d just made of Ranger. He rotated in midair, the faint hum of his mana keeping him aloft. Sparky strolled toward him first, his black-and-yellow hoodie swaying with each exaggerated step, and behind him, Hardkour¡ªred and gold against the carnage¡ªfollowed with a grin practically radiating through his mask. "Okay¡­" Hardkour said, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stopped just short of Ranger''s unconscious form. "First of all, legit." He pointed lazily toward Theo Theo adjusted his gloves, tugging them tighter with the methodical precision of someone resetting the pieces of a chessboard. "I don''t waste energy," he muttered, barely audible, seemingly more to himself than Greg. "Efficiency wins." Sparky groaned, throwing his head back like Theo''s words physically hurt him. "Efficiency wins," he mocked, dragging out the syllables. "Yeah, cool, whatever, Einstein. You figured out how to do actual magic, but you still can''t pick a decent name." Hardkour leaned on one foot, crossing his arms. "Jesus, dude, why the Negative Nancy routine right now? Y''all just won your first real cape fights. Vibes should be at least moderately immaculate." Sparky shrugged, glancing around at the three downed villains sprawled across the trainyard. "What? I''m just saying." Theo tilted his head slightly, his glowing smiley-face mask betraying none of the subtle annoyance in his tone. "...Call me Hakham." Sparky''s head snapped toward Theo, his brow furrowing beneath his goggles. Hardkour''s masked gaze shifted between them, his body language practically screaming Oh, this''ll be good. "Okay," Hardkour said, nodding slowly. "I like where this is going. Hakham. Strong start. Exotic, kinda mysterious. What''s it mean?" Theo hesitated for a fraction of a second, but the lights on his mask blinked twice, almost like a sigh. "...Hakham, or Chakam," he began, "is a Hebrew term. It means someone who''s wise, skillful, learned." Sparky''s expression, or what little of it was visible, shifted into full Bruh mode. Hardkour, meanwhile, nodded even slower than before, like he was testing the weight of each syllable. "Not bad," Hardkour said, after what felt like a beat too long. "I mean, it''s no Hardkour¡ª" he jabbed a thumb at his own chest. "¡ªbut it''s got some character." "Yeah," Sparky jumped in, his voice dripping with mockery. "Not like Apex. That''s cool. You pick cool." "Oh, absolutely," Hardkour said, ignoring the edge in Sparky''s tone entirely. "You know me¡ªcoolness connoisseur." Theo''s glowing eyes narrowed, the smiley face expressionless despite the rising tension in the moment. "Fine. I could try Cosem. If Hakham is too¡­ obtuse." Hardkour tilted his head. "Oh, what''s that mean?" Theo hesitated again, visibly regretting whatever rabbit hole he''d stumbled into. "...Another Hebrew term. It also means wise, or¡ª" "Bro, again with the Hebrew," Sparky interrupted, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "What is it with you and Hebrew? I had my Bar Mitzvah and forgot all of it the second I got home." Theo cocked his head to the side, clearly intrigued. "You''re Jewish?" Sparky puffed his chest slightly, like he was about to deliver the punchline to a joke only he found funny. "Betach, brah." "The hell does that mean?" Hardkour asked. "It means ''Of course,''" Sparky explained, shaking his head like the answer was obvious. "Man, Greg, pick up a book sometime." "Ah, cool," Hardkour said, throwing up finger guns. "The more you know." Theo folded his arms across his chest, hovering just a bit lower as if retreating from Sparky''s overbearing energy. "I just happen to like Hebrew. It sounds cool, and I wanted to learn a bit." Sparky waved him off. "It''s not that cool of a language, man. Trust me." Theo''s head tilted again, and the smiley face blinked slowly, radiating confusion. "But you''re Jewish?" Sparky shrugged. "What, you think I had a choice? This is Brockton Bay. I own it ''cause it''s me, but there''s nothing cool about it, brah." There was a long pause. Finally, Theo muttered, "...Fine. Call me¡­ Magi." Sparky and Hardkour exchanged a long, wordless glance. Then Sparky broke the silence. "Ehhh¡­ Yeah, sure, why not?" Theo turned away slightly, muttering just loud enough to be heard. "You''re making me regret spending time with you both." Hardkour clapped him on the back with just enough force to jolt him mid-hover. "And yet, here you are, Magi. That''s what I call a wise decision." Grief 7.12 Grief 7.12 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The wind howled as Greg¡ªno, Sir Prodigy¡ªswung Gram in a precise arc, the glowing blade slicing through the air with an audible whump. The wind blade shot forward, razor-sharp and shimmering faintly, before it slammed into its target. A dry, skeletal tree in the clearing practically exploded into splinters, the upper half teetering before collapsing to the ground with a dull crash. Dust and bits of bark floated lazily in the aftermath. From across the clearing, Lady Bug gave a long, exaggerated hum, her voice playful but carrying a tone of appraisal. "ehhh... 7.5 out of 10. better than the last one, though." White knight turned to face her, tilting his head as if considering the critique. "My lady, I take offense. ''tis at least an 8. At least." She giggled, perched casually on a broken chunk of concrete, her legs swinging idly like she had all the time in the world. Her black-and-red costume caught the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, but her expression¡ªwhat he could see of it under her mask¡ªwas all mischievous curiosity. "Nope, you gotta earn the 8. I need more pizzazz. More... I dunno. Flair?" His grin stretched wide beneath the mask, though he kept his voice steady, deep, and full of dramatic gravitas. "Very well, Lady Bug. Thou shalt have thy flair. Prepare thyself to be awed." "Bold claim," she shot back, the smirk audible. "Don''t mess it up." Gram hummed faintly in his grip as he took a step forward, then another, his posture loose but deliberate. He raised the sword overhead, its golden glow intensifying. Focus. The air around him seemed to shift, the wind stirring against his armor and pushing his cape into a wild dance. With a sudden burst of movement, he launched himself forward, boots digging into the earth before he swung the sword down with a sweeping motion. The blade hissed through the air, releasing another crescent of compressed wind. It carved through the brittle trunk of a nearby dead tree like butter, splitting it clean in half. The two pieces toppled in opposite directions with satisfying symmetry. The sound of the impact faded, leaving the clearing in silence except for the faint rustle of disturbed leaves. Lady Bug stood now, her arms crossed as she surveyed the scene. "All right," she said after a moment, drawing out the pause just to mess with him. "Now that was cool. 10 out of 10." He bowed dramatically, waving the sword with an exaggerated flourish. "Wind blade," he announced, the words dripping with cheeky confidence. "Trademark pending, of course." Her laughter came quick and easy, melodic in a way that made the effort feel worth it. "Okay, knight boy. I''ll give you that one. Nice work." He straightened up, resting Gram on his shoulder with a smooth motion, though his chest puffed out slightly as he absorbed the praise. "Well, my lady, I am fairly cool myself, as thou hast surely noticed." Lady Bug arched a brow beneath her mask, tilting her head. "Fairly cool? That''s not very knightly of you. Don''t knights have, like, absolute confidence or whatever?" "Oh, verily," he corrected, slipping seamlessly back into his over-the-top persona. "And ''tis a word of great import, signifying¡­ uh¡­ chilliness of the highest caliber!" She doubled over laughing, her hands gripping her knees. "Those are two different words, Sir Prodigy. ''Fairly'' and ''verily'' don''t mean the same thing. Not even close." He waved her off with a dismissive hand, his tone mock-offended. "Pshaw! Mere trifles! A knight of my renown concerns himself not with such linguistic technicalities. My coolness speaks for itself!" They stared at each other for a beat, her mock sternness against his unyielding smirk. The tension shattered as they both broke into laughter, loud and unrestrained, echoing across the clearing. Birds startled from nearby trees, scattering into the sky. "Okay, okay," Lady Bug managed between breaths, wiping under her mask. "That was good. I''m honestly glad I came to this." Greg tilted his head, his earlier embarrassment gone as he leaned on his sword like an actor posing for a renaissance painting. "And I, fair lady, am glad thou didst heed mine call. though, y''know, I was just gonna be here anyway." He gestured broadly to the clearing, the ground littered with fallen branches and the telltale scars of his training. His eyes flicked over to the gouged out and fallen trees, most of the remaining arboreal figures in this park ¡ª if you could really call it that any more ¡ª long dead from pollution or mismanagement. Greg honestly wasn''t sure how you even killed a tree through sheer neglect, let alone a park''s worth; he was pretty sure they kinda handled themselves. "A knight''s work is never done, after all." She hopped off her perch, landing lightly on her toes and brushing off her gloves. "Yeah, about that. When you said noon, I thought you meant another lunch date or something. This was fun too, but, uh¡­" Lady Bug tilted her head, teasing. "Maybe bring food next time? Just a thought." His grin widened. "Noted, my lady." Greg wasn''t sure how it happened, honestly. I mean, sure, they had hung out before, and it was fun, but he hadn''t expected... Well, expected this. Sir Prodigy planted his feet firmly, standing as if he were preparing for a royal portrait, the tails of his cape fluttering just enough in the breeze to make him feel like he nailed the dramatic timing. With one hand, he placed a fist to his chest in a gesture that he imagined was equal parts knightly and superheroic, and with the other, he dismissed Gram back to his inventory. That''s satisfying every time, he thought as he watched the glowing blade dissolve into a spray of blue pixels, the visual effect reminding him of fireworks¡ªmini ones, just for him. Or sparklers. Sparklers are rad too. "My fair lady of House Bug," he began in his most regal tone, letting the words roll out like a Shakespearean actor auditioning for the role of his life, "let it be known that I would gladly have obtained you sustenance¡­" a beat, and then a shrug that broke the illusion of gravitas as he added, "...but you said you were cool, soooo¡­ yeah." Lady Bug folded her arms, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. A laugh bubbled out of her, bright and unrestrained, breaking through the quiet of the abandoned park like sunlight through a grimy window. "You''re such a dork," she said between giggles, wiping under the edge of her mask. "Seriously, though, the sword thing? Ten out of ten. No notes." Greg winked again. "Thank you." "But yeah, I said I was cool, not that I don''t eat," she teased, her eyes flicking toward where Gram had disappeared, the twinkle behind her mask unmistakable. "Fair point, fair point," Sir Prodigy conceded, watching her carefully, though the corner of his mouth curved up despite himself. "But let us not forget: I bestowed upon thee chocolate¡ªa knight''s finest offering." "Which I ate," she said, mock-defensively, "because duh. Also because chocolate is a girl''s best friend." Greg tilted his head slightly, holding onto his persona but letting his confusion show just enough to be deliberate. "Wait¡­ I thought that was diamonds?" "And how, exactly," Lady Bug rolled her eyes. Okay, yeah, totally saw that coming, Greg thought, watching her gesture like she was dismissing the question before it even landed. "Am I supposed to eat diamonds, silly knight?" "You''d find a way." Greg nodded solemnly, ignoring the way her laughter almost made him crack up too. "But the wisdom of your words is undeniable, my lady." For a moment, her hands dropped to her sides, and she stared at him with her mask slightly tilted. "Do you ever stop talking?" she asked, not unkindly, though her tone was full of fake exasperation. He tapped a gloved finger to his chin, as if genuinely pondering the question. "Not so much as ''stop,''" he replied slowly, "but sometimes, when the mood is right, I pause dramatically." Her laughter came again, but this time she turned slightly to hide it, like she didn''t want him to catch how much she was enjoying herself. Her hand lifted as if to adjust her mask, but she froze halfway through, letting it fall back down instead. "You''re ridiculous," she said, the words half a mutter and half a compliment. Greg took a small, theatrical step closer, pointing at her with exaggerated purpose. "What I am, my lady," he declared, "is a force of nature. Also¨C" he added after a brief pause, then leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Wait. Did you just say lunch date?" Lady Bug froze. Just for a split second, but Greg caught it¡ªher legs stopped swinging, and her head jerked like a needle scratching off a record. "Nooo... I mean, I didn''t mean, I meant¡ªwait." she floundered for a moment, then straightened. "Why did you pick noon, anyway? Shouldn''t you be in school?" Greg blinked behind his mask, tilting his head slightly. Okay, curveball. Where''s she going with this? He shrugged and tilted his head further, letting his posture shift into something more casual as he shot back, "Shouldn''t you?" For a moment, she froze like a deer caught in headlights, her shoulders tensing visibly. "...Not important," she muttered quickly, waving her hand in a way that definitely screamed totally important. Her posture shifted, tension creeping into her shoulders. she stood up abruptly, brushing nonexistent dust off her gloves, and turned away like she''d just remembered something fascinating about the dead grass. Greg raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, his instincts kicking in. File that away for later, do not push. He tilted his head again, letting his tone soften just enough to sound more curious than prying. "What''s so bad about school, anyway? I mean, unless they gave you homework over the weekend or something. That''s just cruel and unusual punishment." Stolen novel; please report. Lady Bug didn''t answer right away, hand lifting to fidget with the edge of her glove. "Nothing bad," she said finally, but the words came out clipped, like she was trying to shut the door on the topic before it even opened. Weird. Greg didn''t say anything right away, just watched her fidget. It was weird seeing her like this, all hesitating and awkward. She was usually so composed, at least when she wasn''t cracking jokes or rating his sword slashes. Her mask hid her face, but her body language practically shouted something''s up. Greg took a step closer, his boots crunching on the gravel path. "Okay, so, what''s your excuse?" he asked, keeping his tone light, even teasing. No point in pushing too hard. People got squirrelly when you pushed too hard. "I don''t need an excuse," she replied quickly, still not looking at him. Her voice was steadier now, but the words came too fast, like she was trying to get ahead of the conversation. "I just¡ªI''m out here. Same as you." Greg tilted his head, pretending to consider her answer. "Uh-huh. Right. Totally normal to skip school for abandoned park hangouts. Super common." She spun around, hands on her hips. "And you''re the poster boy for responsible school attendance?" "I mean, no." Greg spread his arms in a gesture that was equal parts shrug and guilty as charged. "But I''m me. Skipping school is practically in my DNA." "And I''m me," she countered, her tone sharp but not angry. "Maybe I wanted some air. Maybe I wanted to hit stuff. Maybe I didn''t feel like sitting in some boring class while people¡ª" She cut herself off, and Greg felt the shift in her tone like a pebble skipping off a still pond. It was subtle, but it was there, the way her words trailed off like she''d just yanked the handbrake on her train of thought. Yeah, definitely something up. He didn''t press, though. Instead, he let his tone shift back to playful consciously, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, no judgment here. After all, you''re in a park with the one and only Sir Prodigy, the White Knight of Brockton. Clearly, you''ve got excellent taste in how to spend your day." Lady Bug snorted, crossing her arms but relaxing slightly. "Yeah, sure. Best decision ever." "Obviously." Greg grinned, waving his hand around with a burst of diffused aerokinesis. "Now, fair lady, shall we continue? Or shall I leave the next tree unscathed in your honor?" "Oh, don''t hold back on my account," she replied, the teasing edge creeping back into her voice. "Besides, I want to see if you can top your last one. You''re at, what, a solid average of nine? Think you''ve got another ten in you?" "My lady," he said, lifting said hand with a flourish as air whirled around it, "I am all tens. Just you watch." He gestured broadly to the park, his voice rising in mock grandeur. "We are knights and champions, my lady, and this¡ª" he waved at the empty clearing with dramatic flair, "¡ªis our court!" That earned him a soft snort, and she crossed her arms again, though the tension in her posture seemed to ease just a little. "Your court, huh?" she asked, her voice lighter now. "Looks more like a graveyard for old trees." "Semantics," he replied smoothly, brushing off the comment with a flick of his wrist. "Besides, the trees are better off this way. Now they can be¡­ modern art. Avant-garde, if you will." Lady Bug rolled her eyes but couldn''t keep the small smile off her face. "You''re lucky you''re funny," she muttered, though her tone held no real heat. Greg grinned behind his mask, taking a mental victory lap. You''re damn right I''m lucky. Sir Prodigy spun one hand lazily, the faint hum of buzzing aerokinesis spreading its vibrating edge across his entire hand. Smirking, he raised his free hand theatrically toward a crumbling park bench. "Observe, my lady, as I demonstrate... finesse." He flicked his wrist, and the bench didn''t so much explode as it collapsed, a loud crack splitting the air as the backrest gave out first, toppling sideways into the grass. Splinters and screws popped loose in a chaotic burst, carried by a short, sharp gust of wind that sent the pieces tumbling a few feet away. Greg grinned behind his mask, watching the debris scatter unpredictably, like confetti at a party no one wanted to attend. Not bad, he thought, even as one of the screws pinged off his boot. Lady Bug gasped softly, the sound barely audible, but it was enough to make his chest swell with pride. "Whoa!" she exclaimed, leaning forward. "You''re actually... controlling it? No giant wind cannon this time?" Greg gave an exaggerated bow, letting the bench fragments drop with a controlled thud. "I am nothing if not adaptable. Behold: the subtle art of aerokinesis." "Subtle, huh?" her tone was teasing, but he caught the genuine spark of curiosity in her voice. "You''re not gonna send a tree into orbit again?" "Hey," he replied, pointing his hand at her like it was a teacher''s ruler. "That was one time. And technically, it was a sapling." She snorted, her shoulders shaking with laughter, and Greg decided that was officially his favorite sound. Without thinking, he twirled his hand again, summoning a small whirlwind that kicked up leaves and dust around him in a miniature tornado. "But no," he added, his tone turning mock-serious, "Today is about precision. About elegance. About¡ª" The whirlwind fizzled out abruptly as his mana dipped a bit too low than he felt safe with for practice. He staggered slightly, muttering, "Damn it." Greg shook his head, trying to recover his balance. "Okay, so maybe ''elegance'' needs work." Lady Bug chuckled, hopping off her concrete perch to stand closer to him. "Still cool. Very anime of you." Greg straightened, chest puffing out again. "Always anime. I live by the code of¡ª" A sharp brrring cut through the moment, and Greg froze mid-sentence, the sound pulling him back to reality like a record scratch. His hand instinctively went to his belt, pulling out a bright red clamshell phone. He flipped it open with a flick of his wrist, glancing at the caller id. The grin under his mask faded. "Uh... one sec," he muttered, turning away from Lady Bug and raising the phone to his ear. His playful tone vanished as he spoke. "Yeah?" Greg flipped open the phone, already bracing for Takeshi''s voice to hit like a panicked bullet train. He didn''t even get a chance to say hello. "Boss! It''s me!" Takeshi''s voice came through fast, hurried, like the teenager was double-timing it on adrenaline and bad coffee. "Look, we''ve got a situation. Empire guys¡ªjust saw a truck near the docks." Greg''s eyes narrowed slightly, though his voice stayed flat. "Uh-huh." "Big, white, plain as day, but I caught the plate. It''s theirs, no question. They''re moving in your area." Greg exhaled through his nose, his grip on the phone tightening. "Uh-huh." "I mean, it''s quiet right now, but you know how they do this. Scout first, hit later. You gotta move quick." "Uh-huh." "I only saw maybe three, but they''re armed. Not subtle, either. This ain''t random, boss." Greg glanced at Lady Bug out of the corner of his eye, the faint rustle of her skirt catching the breeze as she studied him curiously. "Uh-huh." "You want me to call Boss Seo?" Takeshi didn''t even wait for an answer, barreling on. "No, scratch that, you''re closer. Boss, this could get bad fast." Greg''s jaw tightened, but his tone remained steady, almost bored. "Uh-huh." "It''s your call." Greg''s frown deepened. No quest notifications yet, but that didn''t mean much. Takeshi''s intel was rarely wrong, and the absence of a quest probably just meant the bad stuff hadn''t started yet. Great. So now I''m playing prophet instead of knight. "Got it," he said curtly. "I''m on my way." He snapped the phone shut and dropped it into his pocket with a sigh, running a hand through his hair under his helmet. So much for fun. "What''s up?" Lady Bug''s voice pulled him back, softer now, her earlier laughter replaced with concern. She took a step closer, her head tilting slightly as she studied him. Greg hesitated, glancing between her and the phone. "I have to..." his voice trailed off, and he felt the weight of his other mask¡ªHardkour¡ªpressing at the edges of his mind. No jokes now. No Sir Prodigy. Just focus. Lady Bug nodded, reading more in his silence than he''d intended to share. "It''s okay," she said gently. "I need to head out too." Her smile was small but steady, the kind you gave someone when you didn''t want them to worry about you. Greg managed a nod, his usual bravado dampened by the shift in atmosphere. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice quieter than he wanted it to be. Then, louder: "You should. Don''t let me keep you." She didn''t argue, just gave him one last look before stepping back. In the span of a few seconds, Greg was airborne, a gust of wind carrying him up and over the crumbling park. His cape whipped around him as he accelerated, aerokinesis propelling his glide, the world below shrinking into a blur. As the wind roared past, he let his mind race with it. Empire guys. Territory creeping. Takeshi sounded spooked. His gloves tightened as his hands clenched into fists even as his thoughts spiraled. Okay, calm down. It''s probably nothing. Probably just a patrol or something stupid. But if it''s not... He shook his head, pushing the thought away. Doesn''t matter. I''ll handle it. Just like always. Ahead, the city unfolded like a patchwork quilt of concrete and steel, the docks looming in the distance. Greg adjusted his trajectory, his movements sharp and deliberate, the playful knight from the park replaced by something harder, something sharper. The echoes of Lady Bug''s laughter lingered in his mind, but they were already fading, drowned out by the familiar thrum of adrenaline. No rest for the cool, I guess. Grief 7.12b Grief 7.12b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the living room curtains, draping uneven golden lines over the scuffed hardwood floor. Taylor sat cross-legged on the couch, a worn paperback in one hand and her other absently tracing the stitching of the couch cushion. The knock at the door startled her, the sound sharp and unexpected in the otherwise still house. She frowned, her brow creasing. No one visited unannounced. Not anymore. She set the book down, closing it with her thumb tucked between the pages. As she approached the door, her chest tightened slightly, the odd weight of unease settling in. It wasn''t fear exactly¡ªjust the vague, persistent discomfort she always felt when something unpredictable disrupted her carefully managed world. Opening the door, Taylor''s stomach dropped when she saw Greg standing there. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked completely out of place on her modest porch, the edges of his red hoodie catching the wind as he shifted his weight. Her surprise was quickly swallowed by irritation. Of all people, it had to be him. "Greg?" she blurted, her tone edged with disbelief. "How do you even know where I live?" Greg''s sheepish grin spread across his face, and he raised a hand to scratch the back of his head in a gesture that felt far too practiced. "Uh, Winslow isn''t great at, you know, keeping records secure," he offered, his voice light, almost teasing. She stared at him, dumbfounded. "You hacked the school records? Seriously?" He shrugged, like it was no big deal. "Hacked is a strong word. It''s not my fault their password was literally ''admin123.''" God, that does sound like Winslow. Taylor''s frown deepened, her arms crossing over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe. Christ¡­. She wasn''t sure what unsettled her more¡ªthe fact that he''d gone to the trouble of finding her address or that he was standing here now, looking far too casual about the whole thing. "What do you want, Greg?" Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she didn''t apologize. She felt raw, exposed, standing there in her black t-shirt and denim shorts, less armor than her usual baggy clothes. She felt comfortable enough to wear most of her new wardrobe inside the home, at least. Not quite ready to walk the streets of Brockton Bay in them, though. Maybe by mid-summer. It wasn''t just the clothes, though; it was the way he looked at her house, his gaze flicking briefly to the peeling paint on the porch railing and the patchy grass in the front yard before returning to her. "Relax," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I''m not here to sell you anything. I just..." Greg hesitated, the grin faltering for a moment before snapping back into place. "Look, I figured I owed you. After, you know, last time." Taylor''s fingers tightened around her arms. She hadn''t forgotten their last conversation, the way his usual bravado had crumbled under the weight of what she''d told him about Emma. Seeing him like that¡ªvulnerable and shaken¡ªhad been strange, almost disorienting. And now here he was, looking like none of it had touched him at all. Greg glanced past her into the house, his eyes scanning the dimly lit interior. He let out a low whistle, his tone half-joking but with just enough edge to make her bristle. "So, are we doing vampire rules, or...?" She blinked, confused. "What?" "You know, like, you have to invite me in," he said, smirking. "Or I can''t cross the threshold or whatever." The sheer audacity of it made her want to slam the door in his face. Instead, she exhaled sharply, her irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. "You''re not a vampire, Greg." His grin widened. "But you''re not saying no." Taylor fought the urge to roll her eyes. It wasn''t just his words; it was the way he carried himself, like he expected the world to bend around him. It reminded her too much of Sophia, of Emma, of the kind of confidence that came with knowing you were untouchable. But as much as she wanted to tell him to leave, she couldn''t quite bring herself to do it. Maybe it was the lingering guilt from their last conversation, maybe it was the great mood from skipping school to hang around with Sir Prodigy for a couple hours today or maybe it was something else entirely¡ªsomething she didn''t want to examine too closely. "Fine," she muttered, stepping back and gesturing for him to come in. "Just... don''t touch anything." Greg stepped inside, pausing just past the doorway. He gave her a look, one of those infuriatingly unreadable expressions that made her skin crawl. She closed the door behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him in it. He turned to face her, his presence somehow larger than she remembered it being before, back when they¡¯d gone to the same school. Taller, broader, more solid. It wasn''t just his size, though; it was the way he stood, the quiet confidence in the set of his shoulders and the way his eyes met hers without flinching. And for the first time since she''d opened the door, Taylor felt a flicker of something she couldn''t quite name. It wasn''t fear, exactly. Just... unease. As Greg stepped over the threshold, Taylor could feel her irritation mounting. He moved like he belonged there, his every step casual, almost leisurely, as though he wasn''t invading her space at all. "Also, little note," Greg said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "If I was a vampire, you really shouldn''t have invited me in." Taylor narrowed her eyes. "The sun''s still out." Her tone was flat, every word deliberately devoid of interest. Greg smirked, unbothered as always. "I could be a daywalker." She let out a sharp breath through her nose and closed the door a little harder than necessary. "I don''t care. I don''t care. I don''t care," she muttered under her breath, each repetition quieter but no less forceful, more for herself than him. He followed her into the living room, looking around with an expression she couldn''t quite read. It wasn''t judgment, but it was something close enough to make her skin crawl. The silence between them stretched thin, the kind of awkward that made Taylor''s thoughts louder, more insistent. Finally, she broke it, her voice cutting through the air with more edge than she intended. "So why are you here?" Greg stopped, half-turning to face her. For a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback, but the expression vanished almost instantly, replaced by a grin that was too smooth to be real. "Whoa, rude. Not even a ''Can I offer you a drink'' first?" Taylor stared at him, deadpan. "Can I o-" "Not thirsty, don''t bother," he interrupted, waving her off like she was an NPC in a video game. He glanced around the room again, his eyes landing briefly on the secondhand furniture, the mismatched curtains, the faint water stain on the ceiling. When his gaze swung back to her, there was something in it that wasn''t quite pity but came close enough to make her chest tighten. "But seriously, I''m just here because I need to know more." More. The word hit her like a thrown pebble, small but sharp. It echoed in her head as she stared at him, confusion and annoyance swirling together into something heavier, more uncomfortable. "More what?" she asked finally, her arms crossing over her chest once more, a defensive wall she didn''t even realize she was building. Greg shrugged, but it wasn''t the easy, carefree gesture she was used to now. His shoulders were too tight, his expression slipping for just a second into something raw before the smirk returned, smaller this time. "Just¡­ more. You told me about how bad the locker was, but..." His voice faltered, and he looked away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Taylor''s brows knit together. He looked... uncomfortable, almost uncertain, and it was such a familiar jump right back to the old Greg she remembered that it threw her off balance. "And Emma''s been calling me nonstop for days now," he continued, his words picking up speed like he was trying to outrun whatever was chasing him. "I haven''t picked up because... I don''t know if I can talk to her without just... believing her and giving in... and I... I know I never really paid attention to how bad you were getting it, I just... it was Winslow, you know? Everyone got their shit pushed in. You know, I¡­ and yeah, kids are weird, and they stare at the weird kid like a zoo exhibit and that was me and I thought that was just you too and that that was also normal... and we... " He trailed off, licking his lips like he was searching for the right words and coming up empty. Taylor watched him, her arms still crossed, her irritation shifting into something more complicated. The way he was rambling, stumbling over his own thoughts¡ªit was the old Greg, the one she''d known back at Winslow, the one who couldn''t hold a conversation without tripping over himself. It was almost comforting in a way, like slipping into a pair of old shoes you forgot you owned. But it was also frustrating, like those same shoes pinching in all the wrong places. The Greg standing in her living room wasn''t the same boy she remembered, but moments like this made her wonder if he was trying to be. "I just..." Greg''s voice broke through her thoughts, softer now, almost hesitant. "Why is Emma like this? Why would she-?" The silence that hung between Taylor and Greg after his question wasn''t just heavy¡ªit was suffocating. It pressed against her ribs, settled in her throat, and buzzed faintly at the back of her mind like an old TV left on in another room. She wasn''t sure how to answer him; she wasn''t sure she wanted to. But the look on his face¡ªearnest, pleading, almost desperate¡ªmade her falter. She exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing the tension in her shoulders down as she motioned to the sofa. "Sit down," Taylor murmured, her tone more resigned than inviting. Greg nodded, his movements awkward, a little jerky, as though he was trying to match her sudden seriousness. The blond boy who had waltzed into her living room with a vampire joke seemed far away now. He took the armchair opposite her, perching on the edge like he might spring up at any second. Elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced, his posture radiated nervous energy. His eyes didn''t leave hers, and she couldn''t decide if that made it better or worse. Taylor tucked her legs beneath her as she sat down, the worn fabric of the sofa familiar beneath her fingertips. It creaked faintly under her weight, a sound she usually ignored but now seemed deafening in the quiet. The living room felt too small suddenly, the walls closer than they''d been a moment ago, and the distant hum of traffic outside only made the silence between them more unbearable. "I just... I need to know more," Greg said finally, his voice low but insistent, as though he was afraid she might cut him off. "About Emma. About what you said last time." His words settled over her like a weight, dragging her back to the memories she''d been trying not to think about. She looked down at her hands, fingers knotting together in her lap, the familiar nervous habit grounding her just enough to meet his gaze again. "Emma," she began, the name alone sharp enough to make her mouth go dry. Her voice was steady, but the effort to keep it that way was exhausting. "Emma used to be my best friend." Greg leaned forward slightly, his expression softening with what might have been sympathy. She hated that. She didn''t need his pity. But there was no stopping now; the words were already spilling out, dredged up from the dark corners of her mind where she usually kept them locked away. "That was before high school," she continued, her voice tightening despite herself. "Before... everything changed." She glanced at Greg, half-expecting a flippant comment or an interruption, but he just nodded, urging her silently to go on. The weight of his attention was uncomfortable, but also... steadying, in a strange way. "It started two years ago," Taylor said, her hands clenching the fabric of her shorts without realizing it. "When we started at Winslow. Emma changed over the summer before school... turned into someone I didn''t recognize." Greg''s brow furrowed, his confusion plain on his face. "Changed how?" he asked, his voice cautious, like he was afraid of pushing too hard. Taylor''s lips pressed into a thin line. "She used to be kind. Funny. Caring. She was... she was my person, you know?" She forced the words out, even as they tasted bitter. "And then, all of a sudden, she wasn''t. It was like... like a switch flipped. She wasn''t just distant¡ªshe was cruel."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Greg stayed quiet, but his jaw tightened, and she caught the way his knuckles whitened slightly where his hands rested on his knees. It was almost enough to make her stop. Almost. "It wasn''t just her," Taylor added after a moment, her voice dropping to something closer to a whisper. "Sophia and Madison followed her lead, but Emma was the worst. She made it... personal." Greg finally broke his silence, his voice low and rough. "Personal how?" Taylor hesitated, her nails digging into the palm of her hand. The memories were sharp and jagged, but she pushed forward anyway. "Sophia was physical," she said, her tone flattening as she forced herself into a clinical detachment. "Shoving, tripping, a punch when no one was looking. But Emma..." She trailed off, the words catching in her throat. Greg leaned forward, his eyes wide, waiting. "Emma destroyed my mom''s flute," Taylor said finally, her voice cracking just enough to betray her. "She mocked her death, called me... horrible things. She spread rumors that I was a whore, a druggie. She made it a game for everyone else to join in." Greg''s fist tightened against his knee, the tension in his shoulders coiling like a spring. His earlier lightheartedness had evaporated, replaced by something darker and more serious. "That''s... that''s just sick, Taylor," he said, his voice low but steady. "How did you even deal with that?" The question caught her off guard. Taylor looked away, her gaze fixing on a spot in the corner of the room as the faintest shimmer of tears began to blur her vision. She refused to let them fall. "It wasn''t easy," she admitted quietly, her voice thick. "I felt trapped, like every day was a test of how much I could endure." The words felt like they were being pulled from her, one by one, as if they didn''t want to be said aloud. Greg leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and the usual restless energy that clung to him seemed to ebb. "And Madison?" His tone was softer this time, almost hesitant. Taylor gave a short, bitter laugh that didn''t quite reach her eyes. "Madison," she repeated, the name tasting like ash on her tongue. "She did things that seemed small, but they weren''t. They were insidious." Her fingers curled into the fabric of her shorts, nails digging into the material. "Stole my homework. Hid my books. Messed with my locker. Little things, but constant. Like she was trying to chip away at me day by day, piece by piece." Greg sat back, exhaling through his nose. "Taylor, I..." He trailed off, stumbling over his words as he glanced around the room, searching for something that wasn''t there. "I uh... I mean, I wanna say I''m sorry I didn''t see it. I saw it, but I thought it was just... normal, you know? Just Winslow." She shook her head, the movement slight but deliberate. "It''s whatever, Greg," she said, her voice flat. She couldn''t decide if she believed herself. "I didn''t let anyone see the really bad stuff. I thought I could handle it, that it would stop. But after the locker..." She stopped, her voice cracking slightly as the weight of the memory pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. "The locker," Greg echoed, his voice barely more than a whisper. There was something in his tone that made her look up. Taylor swallowed hard. "They shoved me in an old locker," she said, her tone detached, as though she were reading from a script. "I told you how bad it was already, how it was full of..." She faltered, her throat tightening. "It doesn''t matter. I was in there for hours before anyone found me." Greg''s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the armchair. He nodded slowly, once, as though the motion cost him something. "It''s why I told you about Emma. What she did," Taylor continued, her voice firmer now. She met his gaze, her expression sharp and unyielding. "Because people should know what she''s capable of. Why she''s not this perfect person they think." The silence that followed was thick, almost unbearable. Greg nodded again, his head dipping lower this time, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy. "I needed to know this. Thank you for telling me, T-" "It''s whatever," Taylor interrupted, her words rushed, her voice trembling. She dropped her head into her hands, the weight of everything she''d said finally crashing down on her. "I''m at Arcadia now. It''s fine... I guess." She felt exposed, raw, like she''d been flayed open and left to bleed. "I just... I just need a moment." She barely registered the sound of Greg shifting in his chair, the faint creak of the springs as he adjusted his position. After a moment, there was more movement, and then the sound of footsteps crossing the floor. Taylor stiffened as she felt a hand on her back. Her entire body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. She raised her head slowly, fixing Greg with a look that was equal parts incredulous and annoyed. His hand was still there, resting in the middle of her back, and she could feel the warmth of it through the thin fabric of her shirt. "What do you think you''re doing?" She asked, her tone sharp enough to cut. Greg''s awkward smile did little to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. "Just thought you could use a hand," he said, his voice light but unsure. "You want to move it?" She shot back, raising an eyebrow. Greg hesitated, his mouth opening as if to respond, then closing again. His hand didn''t move. Finally, he opened his mouth once more, his words coming out haltingly. "Do you... want me to move it?" Taylor''s eyebrow arched instinctively, skepticism etched into her expression as Greg''s words hung awkwardly in the air. "Why wouldn''t I?" She repeated, her voice clipped, laced with her signature brand of doubt. Greg leaned back slightly, his face morphing into an exaggerated attempt at nonchalance. "Well, you know," he started, waving a hand as if the rest of the sentence were obvious, "sometimes people need a shoulder to cry on and, not to toot my own horn, but I''ve got some pretty nice shoulders." The sheer absurdity of his delivery made Taylor''s brain stall for half a second. What did he just¡ª Her gaze flicked involuntarily to his arms. Even through the jacket, she could tell. Damn it, they are broad. Realizing where her thoughts were going, she yanked them back like a runaway kite in a storm, narrowing her eyes. Wait... Is he flirting with me? Now?! The thought struck her like a low blow, her suspicion sharpening. "...What''s that supposed to mean?" The words came out more confrontational than she intended, but she wasn''t about to let him think she was impressed, much less flustered. Her narrowed gaze locked onto his face, daring him to explain. Greg''s eyes widened in panic, his hand retreating from her like it had been burned. "No, no, no! Nonono, not like that!" The words tumbled out so quickly they tripped over each other. His hands shot up defensively, palms out like he was surrendering to a cop. "I just thought you needed some comfort or something. You know, friendly comfort." Her lips twitched at the sheer awkwardness radiating off him. God, he looks like a kicked puppy. The image nearly made her laugh out loud. For all his new swagger and occasional moments of surprising competence, there was still plenty of the old Greg Veder under there, bumbling and clueless. She tilted her head, letting a sliver of amusement slip into her voice. "And what kind of ¡®comfort¡¯ were you trying to provide, Veder?" Greg froze, his expression hovering between embarrassment and determination. "...Not the kind that would get your dad mad at me, Hebert." "And what do you think my dad would get mad at?" She shot back, folding her arms across her chest. Greg hesitated for a beat, then his mouth quirked into a lopsided grin. "C''mon, I think I know what a dad would get mad at. I got a B in health class, okay?" Taylor blinked, thrown by the randomness of the statement. "Let''s say I believe you," She said slowly, as if humoring a small child. "Why wouldn''t you?" Greg countered. He cupped his face dramatically with both palms, dimples appearing as he gave her a closed-mouth smile so forced it belonged on a toothpaste commercial. "You don''t trust this face?" Taylor rolled her eyes so hard she practically saw the inside of her skull. "Not in the slightest." "Darn." He clicked his tongue and dropped his hands, snapping his fingers like an old man as he shook his head. "Well, beauty is in the eye of the beholder." She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "And what is that supposed to mean?" His eyes flicked up to hers, blue meeting brown in a moment of wordless challenge. The smirk returned, sharper this time. "Well, you wear glasses. You''re smart enough to put two and two together." Her tongue pressed into the side of her cheek as she hummed, trying not to laugh at the audacity of it all. He''s impossible. "Wow. Is this how you comfort people, Greg?" "Usually, yeah. What''s wrong with it?" The sheer casualness of his response broke her resolve. A short, sharp snort escaped before she could stop it. Once the first laugh slipped through, the rest followed easily, spilling out in a quiet, uncontrollable wave. Greg grinned, the sound evidently contagious as his own chuckle joined hers. "You''re unbelievable," She muttered, shaking her head. ¡°Something¡¯s definitely wrong with your brain.¡± Despite her irritation, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. This is better than the wings at least. He''s not as much of a dickhead as he was there. He mirrored her gesture, shaking his own head with mock solemnity. "That''s what the counselor said too," He said, his tone teasing. She shook her head again, the smile lingering despite herself. Something about this feels kind of familiar. Taylor tilted her head slightly, eyeing Greg with a mix of disbelief and reluctant amusement. "Now I feel like I''m the dumb one," She said, her voice carrying a teasing edge she couldn''t entirely smother. "I can''t believe I thought you were trying to make a move on me." Greg blinked at her, an exaggerated look of mock offense spreading across his face. "Hold on. ¡®Now¡¯? Was I supposed to be the dumb one before?" She smirked, arms crossing in front of her as she leaned back slightly on the sofa. The movement was casual, but she realized too late it mirrored his relaxed posture. "I think you''re smart enough to put two and two together." He rolled his eyes with all the drama of someone enduring a great injustice. "I bet you tell all the pretty boys that." Her retort came without hesitation, sharp and dry. "Is the pretty boy in the room with us right now?" Greg''s grin widened, and for a split second, it was infuriatingly disarming. Leaning back further, he shot her an open-mouthed smile, his tongue flicking against one of his oddly sharp canines. Since when did he have sharp canines? The stray observation made her swallow reflexively, heat rising unbidden to her cheeks. "You tell me, Hebert," He said, his voice laced with that maddening confidence he''d somehow acquired. "How good are those glasses?" She tightened her arms across her chest, her expression guarded as she glared at him with mock suspicion. "See, now I''m not sure if you are trying to make a move on me or not." "Again, not true," Greg replied, his grin undeterred. "Just being friendly." Her lips twisted into a disbelieving snort. "Is this how you''re friendly with guys?" His brows furrowed as he blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. After a moment of apparent deep thought, he tilted his head slightly, his mouth opening just enough to make her think he might say something profound. "...Yeah, actually." Taylor blinked back, incredulous. "You flirt with guys?" "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Greg said, hands flying up in mock surrender again. "I didn''t say that. I don''t even know what flirting is. I don''t even know how. I just talk until people either laugh or want to punch me in the face. Usually, it''s the second." He paused, tilting his head in mock contemplation. "Sometimes, both." She rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth betrayed a faint twitch of amusement. "I can tell." Greg snickered at her dry tone, the sound irritatingly infectious. "Is this how you flirt? Being a jerky jerk?" Heat crept up her neck, and she knew her face was reddening even as she shot him a glare that had less bite than she intended. "I don''t really know how to flirt either," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. Greg simply looked at her, his expression softening into something she couldn''t quite place. There was no smirk, no exaggerated gesture, just a small, genuine smile that made her suddenly very aware of how quiet the room had become. The silence stretched, and she felt herself bristle under the weight of his gaze. Finally, unable to take it anymore, she grunted, her tone edged with irritation. "What?" "Nothing," Greg said, his smile unwavering. "I''m just nice enough to say, ''I can tell.'' You could learn something from that." She scoffed, the sound sharp enough to cover the way her stomach flipped. "Only thing I could learn from you is how to be more of a jerk." "Honestly," he said, leaning forward slightly, "you''ve got that pretty locked down." Her response was immediate, her lips curving into a saccharine, exaggerated smile. "Thank you." Greg leaned back again, his grin returning with full force. "But for real," he said, his voice quieter now, more sincere. "You''ve never been this nice to me." Taylor frowned, caught off guard by the abrupt turn in Greg''s tone. "What?" The word slipped out before she could stop herself, her confusion plain. Greg stretched his arms, the movement causing his blue zip-up hoodie to pull snug over his shoulders. "Yeah, you know¡­" he began, his voice carrying that casual lilt that somehow always sounded half-joking. "I mean, before the last time¡­ Not the wing place, before that ¡ª You kinda just ignored me or didn''t say much. This, and the last two times we''ve talked¡­ Well, it''s the first three times we''ve actually talked." He blinked, his face settling into a slightly blank smile, as though the thought had just crystallized in his mind. "You know?" Taylor swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she searched for a response. "I¡­ I guess." The admission felt heavier than she wanted it to, but it was the truth. She hadn''t given Greg much thought before. To her, he''d always been a mild annoyance, a background fixture at Winslow she did her best to tune out. He wasn''t malicious like Emma or Sophia; he was just¡­ there. When he''d tried to include her in his rambling conversations about video games, software, or flashy shows she had no interest in, she''d dismissed him without hesitation. He hadn¡¯t been worth the energy. He''d been an obstacle. Not a cruel one, but an obstacle all the same. Greg nodded, his expression softening into something that could almost be described as genuine. "It''s nice¡­ I mean, you''ve been nice. Mostly. You even went to dinner with me." Her snort came unbidden, a sharp exhale of air that she didn''t entirely mean to let slip. She couldn''t help it¡ªthe memory of their "dinner" at the wing place surfaced immediately. Greg had demolished an ungodly amount of wings, leaving her stunned and slightly horrified as he powered through plate after plate while she nibbled on her modest order of five pieces. "Well," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "I felt like I owed you a favor. And I was hungry, so you kind of did me another favor." Greg''s brow furrowed slightly, and she could almost see the gears turning in his head as he worked through what she''d just said. After a moment, he straightened, his eyes brightening with realization. "So¡­ you''re saying you still owe me a favor?" Her blink of surprise was immediate, her mind stumbling to catch up. "I¡­ guess?" The word left her hesitantly, her tone more question than answer. Greg''s lips quirked into a smirk, the kind that made her both want to roll her eyes and smack it off his face. "So I can cash in another favor?" Her gaze narrowed, suspicion creeping into her voice. "I¡­ guess?" She echoed, though this time her tone was sharper, warier. He leaned slightly closer, his smirk widening. "Can I¡­ kiss you?" Taylor''s entire body stiffened, her mind stalling as the words hit her like a rogue wave. For a split second, she didn''t know how to respond, her thoughts tangling in a mess of indignation, disbelief, and something else she refused to acknowledge. Then, her glare sharpened into something with enough force to pierce steel. "Get out of my house, please," She said flatly, her tone brooking no argument. Greg didn''t flinch. Instead, he nodded, his movements casual and unbothered as he stood. The complete lack of reaction only served to needle her further, her irritation bubbling beneath the surface. He took a step toward the door but then paused, glancing back at her with that maddeningly familiar grin. "Actually, about that drink from earlier¡ª" Her hand shot out, pointing quickly and firmly at the front door as her other hand came up to cover her face. She sighed heavily, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Out." Greg didn''t argue. He simply waved over his shoulder as he walked out, his voice light and teasing as he called, "Bye, Taylor." She waited until she heard the door close behind him, the sound solid and final in the quiet house. Only then did she lower her hand from her face, the flush on her cheeks still stubbornly present. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she let out a whispered, "Bye, Greg." Grief 7.13 Grief 7.13 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C His footsteps felt heavy as he dragged his feet on the pristine pavement. The neighborhood was almost offensively perfect¡ªeach lawn manicured to within an inch of its chlorophyll-laden life, the kind of green that practically glowed. Greg was pretty sure if he lay down on one of those lawns, the HOA would materialize out of thin air to scrape him off with a rake. Even the air smelled wrong, all fresh and clean, like someone had Febreezed the entire block. No exhaust fumes, no old trash cans, no stale whiffs of burned toast from some guy forgetting his breakfast ¡ª nothing. Greg glanced around, half expecting to see a drone patrolling the area to keep out riffraff like him. "Welcome to suburbia," he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with sarcasm. His hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, fingers curling tight around his keys like they were the last real thing in this unnervingly sterile environment. Everything was too quiet here. No kids yelling. No barking dogs. Just the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of a swing set moving slightly in the breeze, like a ghost kid had taken up residence. If Greg didn''t know better, he''d think he was walking through one of those dystopian movie sets where everything looks normal, but something''s just... off. He slowed as the house came into view. Emma''s house. Or... the place that used to feel like Emma''s house. Now it was just a building, beige siding and dark shutters staring blankly back at him like it didn''t know him anymore. His feet stopped just short of the driveway, as if some invisible barrier had sprung up to hold him back. His gaze flicked to the brass numbers above the door. Yep, still the same. Not like they''d change them, but he still felt the need to check, like maybe he could pretend it wasn''t the right house. Wouldn''t that be convenient? "Oops, wrong place, guess I''ll go home," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible even to himself. But no, it was the right house. And he was here. Again. Why the hell am I here? He didn''t have an answer for that. Not really. Except for the phone call. Her voice. Her name lighting up his screen like it still had the same power over him it did back then. Maybe it still did. "Greg." Just his name. No greeting, no pleasantries. Her voice was soft, too soft, like she was testing the waters, seeing if he''d bite. And he did. Of course, he did. His jaw tightened, the memory of that breathy tone sending an annoying jolt of something¡ªregret? nostalgia? anger?¡ªthrough his chest. It pissed him off that she could still do that. That she could call him out of the blue, say his name like it mattered, and he''d just... show up. Like a damn idiot. Greg took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. The house loomed in front of him like a mausoleum. Same siding. Same shutters. Same faint knot in his chest. He took a step forward before he could think better of it, the driveway cracking faintly under his weight. The numbers over the door caught the light just enough to feel smug about it. ¡°Fuck me running,¡± he muttered, the words barely audible. His feet wouldn¡¯t move. He stood at the edge of the driveway, staring up at the brass numbers on the door like they¡¯d rearrange themselves and let him off the hook. What the hell was he even hoping for? Closure? Maybe. Probably not. All Greg knew was that ¡°closure¡± sounded better than "pathetic hope." He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his shoulders hunching slightly against the cool afternoon breeze. The air here wasn''t just cleaner¡ªit was thinner, too. Harder to breathe. Suffocating in its perfection. He glanced at the house again, his eyes scanning the windows for any sign of movement. Nothing. No shadows, no curtain twitches. Just stillness. Fuck me running. His heart thudded in his chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that didn''t match the calm he was trying to fake. He could still hear her voice, clear as day, and it made him want to punch something. Or run. Or both. But he didn''t do either. Instead, Greg just stood there, staring at the house like it was some kind of puzzle he couldn''t figure out. Why did I pick up the damn phone? He knew why. And that was the worst part. "Greg," she''d said, her voice softer than he remembered. Like she was trying to be... what? Sincere? Apologetic? Manipulative? He couldn''t tell anymore. Not "hey." Not "hi." Just his name. Like it was supposed to mean something on its own. And it had. For a second, it felt like someone had knocked the air out of him. Even now, the memory was enough to make his fingers twitch, his jaw tighten. Greg stared at the doorbell like it might bite him. His thumb hovered, hesitant, the button''s plastic surface catching the light in a way that suddenly seemed menacing. Was this some kind of metaphor? Probably not, but his brain didn''t care; it was busy replaying Emma''s voice on loop, the way her tone had shifted, how rushed it had sounded at the end. He flexed his free hand in his jacket pocket, the keys biting into his palm again. Grounding, yeah, but also annoying. His other hand stayed frozen midair, the doorbell just inches away. One more second. His reflection stared back at him in the glass of the storm door, the shadows under his eyes a little too dark. Greg looked like he''d been hit by a truck and considering last night''s fight... that wasn''t exactly off the mark. The glass distorted his face just enough to make him look even more haggard than he already felt, his hair doing its best impression of a haystack post-tornado. He probably should''ve done something about that before walking over here. Like¡­ anything. Great first impression, Veder. Absolutely stellar. Emma''s totally not going to think you crawled out of a dumpster before coming here. His lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn''t stick. His chest felt tight, like someone had shoved a weight onto it and then walked away whistling. "Tomorrow. My house. Around 4. No one''s gonna be home." Why did she emphasize that? The thought had been gnawing at him since the call. Like, he knew why but¡­ It was the kind of detail you''d drop casually, not deliver like a headline. Or maybe that was just how he was reading it now, standing here like an idiot in front of a house he''d known as good as his own not that long ago. But the rushed goodbye¡ªthat was what really stuck in his head. Like she didn''t actually want to hear his response, like she was afraid if she stayed on the line any longer, he''d say something that made her regret calling. Or maybe she just regretted calling. His thumb brushed the edge of the doorbell again, still not pressing it. His breath fogged the glass as he exhaled slowly, staring past his distorted reflection to the faint shadows moving behind the curtains. Okay, Veder. You''re here. You said you''d do this. Standing on the porch looking like a moron isn''t helping anyone. But the longer Greg stood there, the more his mind spun in circles. The house felt too quiet, the whole neighborhood like a snow globe that hadn''t been shaken in years. Pristine, untouched, and completely foreign now. It didn''t feel like Emma anymore. He frowned, his hand lowering slightly, his knuckles brushing the edge of the doorframe. Was that why she''d called him here? Because she wanted it to feel like her again? Because she wanted him to¡ªwhat, fix something? His stomach churned at the thought. You''re not her handyman, Greg. You''re not her¡­ whatever she thinks you are. But the problem was, he wasn''t sure what she thought he was. Hell, Greg wasn''t even sure what he himself thought he was anymore. The guy who''d said yes to this? The guy who''d answered the phone in the first place? Greg let out a short laugh, low and bitter. You''re the guy who doesn''t know when to let go. That''s who you are. His fingers clenched tighter around the keys in his pocket, the jagged edges digging into his skin. He hated this. Hated the way his chest felt hollow and heavy all at once, hated the way her voice had shaken something loose in him. Hated the way he couldn''t stop himself from being here, standing on this stupid porch with his stupid hand half-raised like an idiot. But most of all, Greg hated the way he still wanted to see her. Just press the damn button. But for a second, all he could think about was the chipped scuff mark on the frame. Just get it over with. And what was he supposed to say? ¡°Hey, Emma, remember me? The guy you ignored for a week?¡± Or maybe, "Hey, Emma, why do I feel like throwing up every time I think about you?¡± Or maybe nothing. Maybe Greg wouldn''t say anything at all. Maybe he''d just stand there and let her talk, let her explain whatever this was supposed to be. Except... what if she didn''t? What if she expected him to start? What if she just stared at him with that look she used to get, the one that made him feel like he was six inches tall? His hand dropped back to his side, his chest tightening as the back-and-forth in his head got louder. No. No. Stop. Don''t think about it. Just... do it. His jaw clenched, and he shoved the thoughts down, locking them somewhere deep where they couldn''t get to him. Where they couldn''t make him turn around and walk away. Without allowing himself a moment to hesitate¡ªwell aware he might cut and run if he overthought it for even a second¡ªthe blonde boy rang the doorbell. Greg barely registered the sound of the bell finishing its chime before the door opened, too fast for it to feel normal. It swung wide with a polished ease that spoke of well-oiled hinges and a household where appearances mattered. There she was, framed in the doorway like she''d been waiting for him. Emma. Her hair caught the late afternoon sun just right, the warm red strands almost glowing.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. Her smile was bright, too bright¡ªlike stage lights cranked up to eleven. It hit him square in the chest, not just emotionally but physically, like an unexpected shove. The familiarity of her face clashed with the unreality of the moment, leaving him momentarily frozen. She was mesmerizing. "Greg!" she said, her voice pitching upward in an almost musical lilt. She dragged his name out like it was her favorite song, the kind she hadn''t heard in forever, as she stood there in a pink crop top and white shorts. It was so... enthusiastic that it made his skin itch. He opened his mouth to say her name¡ª¡±Em¡±¡ªbut didn''t get further than the first syllable. She launched herself at him like a missile. Suddenly, her arms were around him, her face pressed to his chest. The scent of her shampoo¡ªsomething floral and expensive¡ªhit him before her weight did. "I missed you," she murmured, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of her words seeped through, and his mind sputtered, caught between the comfort of the moment and how wrong it felt. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air for a moment before he managed to mutter, "I¡­ I missed you too." Did I? She pulled back as quickly as she''d jumped forward, blinking up at him. The closeness made him acutely aware of just how much he''d changed in the past few months. Her head tilted back slightly to meet his eyes, the subtle wrinkle of confusion on her brow like a small crack in her polished expression. "You got taller?" she asked, her tone almost accusing before it quickly softened into genuine surprise. "Did you get taller?" Greg shrugged, his hands finding refuge in his jacket pockets. "Yeah, a little bit." "A little?" Her eyes widened, her incredulity almost playful. "We were, like, the same height before." "I guess." He tried to sound indifferent, but the way her gaze darted up and down, sizing him up, made his neck heat up. She was scrutinizing him like he was a puzzle she''d thought she''d solved already but had suddenly found extra pieces for. Her expression brightened again, the momentary crack sealing itself. "What happened? I mean, I know I was out of it for a while, but..." Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Puberty." Her lips parted slightly, as if she had more questions, but then she laughed, the sound high and practiced, like something she''d rehearsed. "...Okay!" she chirped, grabbing his hand in one smooth motion before he could even think to stop her. Her grip was firmer than he expected. "I can''t wait to show you my new room. My parents bought me a bunch of new stuff because they were so happy I was okay. They said you carried me out of what happened. That''s crazy. You gotta tell me all about i¡ª" "Emma." Her name left his mouth flat, almost deadpan, cutting through her rapid-fire enthusiasm like a dull knife. He hadn''t meant for it to sound so heavy, but it did. She stopped mid-step, her hand still around his wrist, and turned to look at him. "What''s wrong?" she asked, her voice syrupy, her smile softening into something teasing but not quite genuine, the slightest crack in her perfect face. "Are you scared to go in my room? I know you''ve never been in there before, but nobody''s home. You won''t get in trouble, I promise." His feet stayed rooted to the pavement outside the threshold, his body tense despite the forced casualness of her words. He stared at her hand still on his wrist. "Emma... I just wanna talk." Her fingers loosened, and she let go of his wrist, her smile freezing in place for a beat too long. It didn¡¯t quite reach her eyes anymore. "Yeah, let¡¯s talk. I¡¯ve got some¡­ some stuff I need to tell you too." she said, her eyes dulling slightly with the words, an edge creeping into her voice even as it somehow managed to stay light and airy. "Come in and let¡¯s talk." But he didn''t move, his stance stubborn, his voice firm. "No, because if I go inside, I feel like we''re not gonna talk about anything we need to talk about." The air between them grew heavier, her smile faltering for a fraction of a second before she plastered it back on, brighter than before. "I...I don''t know what you mean." Greg rubbed the back of his neck, his hand dragging over the stiff fabric of his hoodie. The silence between them felt loud, somehow heavier than Emma''s bright, expectant gaze. She was still standing there, her expression a perfect mix of teasing and confusion, like she couldn''t fathom why he was hesitating. Like the concept of someone pushing back on her didn''t compute. "Yeah..." He started, letting the word hang in the air before finishing with a shrug. "I''m not so sure about that." Emma''s smile faltered, just a touch, but enough for him to catch it. She tilted her head, her auburn hair catching the light in a way that felt almost too deliberate. "What''s that supposed to mean?" She asked, her tone airy but her eyes narrowing slightly. Greg looked away, letting his gaze drift to the pristine sidewalk, the edge of the doorway, anywhere but her face. He didn''t want to see that look of hers¡ªthe one that made him feel like he was on the wrong end of some inside joke. He knew he had to bring this up before anything else. He was weird around Emma, Greg knew that for a fact, as much as he knew anything else. It had been a while but he remembered how easily she could simply make him go along with whatever she wanted. Even when hindsight proved how bad those choices were. The thought of how he hadn''t simply rushed Emma outside of the collapsing restaurant came back into his head and he fought back a grimace. What are you even doing here? The thought scraped at the back of his mind like nails on a chalkboard, but he shoved it aside. Too late to second-guess himself now. Greg sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I don''t know." His voice came out lower than he''d meant it to, and he could see her shift her weight, her stance going a little stiffer. Honestly, he didn''t know. He had so much going on in his head that he didn''t know what to get out first. Part of him wished he was just talking with Taylor again. That had been so much easier and flowed better and there wasn''t this huge weight on his chest that didn''t make sense. Although, thinking about it¡­ Taylor was kinda the whole reason he was here right now. "I just... don''t get you." Emma blinked, the slight furrow of her brow the only sign of her confusion. "What do you mean?" She asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "What''s there to get? I just wanted to see my boyfriend." The word hit him like a thrown brick, not because of what it was but because of how casually she said it. "Boyfriend." The word felt... wrong, somehow. Like wearing a shirt two sizes too small. Greg let out a bitter laugh before he could stop himself, shaking his head. "Really?" Emma frowned, her lips pressing together tightly for a moment before she spoke. "What''s that supposed to mean? You''re being super weird right now, Greg." Greg ignored the jab, meeting her gaze again. "Are we, though?" He asked, his voice quiet but steady. "Are we really... boyfriend-girlfriend?" Her expression shifted, her confusion melting into something sharper. "Yeah¡­" She said, dragging the word out like it was obvious. Then she added, her tone clipped, "As long as you promise me you''ll never say it like that again." Greg couldn''t help the slight smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Promise." Her demeanor softened, her smile returning like she''d won some unspoken game. "Great," She said brightly, grabbing his arm again and tugging him forward. "Now come inside already." But Greg didn''t move. His feet stayed planted firmly on the concrete, his arm stiff against her pull. "Wait," He said, his tone sharper than before. "Before that..." Emma stopped, letting go of his arm with a dramatic sigh. "Okay." She said, her voice dripping with exaggerated patience. "Greg, if this is about me not calling¡ª" "No," He interrupted, his words coming fast and tripping over each other. "No, I don''t care ab¡ª" Greg paused, frowning as he caught himself. "No, that''s a lie. I do. I care about that a lot, actually. It kinda fucked me up for a little bit, but no..." He shook his head, the motion quick and jerky like he was trying to shake off a bad memory. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the cool air biting at his knuckles. "I need to know why you lied to me." Emma blinked, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she smoothed her expression into something more composed, almost placid. "Lied? I... I''ve never lied to you." Her voice carried a perfect blend of confusion and hurt, the kind of tone that might work on anyone who didn''t know better. Who wasn''t expecting it, at least. Greg felt his jaw tighten as he stared at her, her wide, innocent eyes locking with his. Maybe it was his bias¡ªor maybe it was something stupider, like hope¡ªbut there was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to believe her. To buy into the act. Because what if she wasn''t lying? What if he was just overthinking things again, spinning everything out of control? But then Taylor''s face flashed in his mind. Her tear-streaked expression, her voice cracking as she told him the worst of it. The locker. The rumors. The flute. Everything he had willingly blinded himself to. But now? Greg couldn¡¯t keep his eyes shut anymore. All of it, crashing down on him again like a broken faucet that wouldn''t stop running. His fists clenched in his hoodie pockets. "C''mon. Don¡¯t do that." He muttered, his words heavy with frustration. Greg dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a breath that felt like it burned on the way out. "Don''t lie to me about not lying, okay?" Emma tilted her head, her brows furrowing just slightly, the picture of wounded confusion. "Greg..." "No," He cut her off, shaking his head. "None of that. That very first day at my house... You came and lied to me. And then you kissed me, like it was nothing." Her lips parted slightly, as if she were going to respond, but instead, Emma let out a faint laugh. It wasn''t a friendly laugh¡ªit was sharp and bitter, the kind of laugh someone uses to cover up a misstep. "I don''t know what you''re talking about," She said finally, her voice low and defensive, her gaze flickering to the side for a moment before snapping back to him. Greg''s eyes narrowed, his voice rising before he could stop himself. "I''m talking about Taylor, Emma!" Emma''s jaw tightened, her polished poise cracking just enough to reveal something raw underneath. "Wow..." She clicked her tongue, her lips curling into a small, incredulous smile. "I can''t believe you''re doing this right now. It''s literally unbelievable. I thought you were better than this, Greg. Like, I mean... really?" He blinked, his frustration spiking higher at her tone¡ªhalf-dismissive, half-condescending, like he''d just asked her for a million bucks instead of an ounce of honesty. "What do you mean, ''really''? Better than what? I haven''t done anything yet!" "It''s just..." She shook her head, her hands gesturing vaguely in the air like she was trying to shape an argument out of nothing. "It''s really fucking unfair to me, as your girlfriend, to have to deal with this kind of shit from you. Like, do you know how hard it''s been for me since I woke up? And it''s just kinda weird how you haven''t even talked to me¡ª" Greg¡¯s hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms. "BECAUSE YOU DIDN''T RETURN MY CALLS!" The words exploded out of him, his voice echoing down the empty street. He felt the heat rush to his face, a mix of anger and embarrassment at how loud he''d gotten, but he didn''t back down. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat screaming at him to just turn around and walk away, but his feet stayed planted. Emma''s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly in surprise before she recovered, her expression hardening again. "And you didn''t return mine," She shot back, her voice icy but controlled. "But sure, let''s go ahead and talk about other girls." Greg blinked, caught off-guard. "I''m not talking about other girls!" Emma raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk that didn''t reach her eyes. "I''m sorry, I guess Taylor''s a fucking man now?" His fists clenched again, the knuckles pressing hard against the fabric of his hoodie. "Emma..." She took a step closer, her smile dropping as she tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping into a softer, almost sweet tone. "Why are we even talking about her right now? What do you mean, Greg? Why do you think I''m lying?" Greg opened his mouth, but she didn''t give him the chance to answer. "Why do you even care about Hebert?" she snapped, her words coming too fast, like she was trying to outrun the accusation. "We''ve been over this. It was all Sophia and Madison anyway." Her tone softened, just barely, as she added, "You believe me, don¡¯t you?" Emma''s arms crossed tighter against her chest as Greg hesitated, her sneaker tapping against the threshold in a slow, deliberate rhythm. Her expression was unreadable¡ªtoo still, too calculated, like she was waiting for a cue to start her scene. Greg took a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. His eyes twitched as he forced the words out. "Look..." He breathed. "Taylor came to my house the other day." Emma''s brow lifted slightly, the motion almost imperceptible, but her voice came out sharp and clear. "She did what?" Greg bit his lip, his mind racing to keep up with her tone. "But I was hungry, so... I took her with me to grab some wings." Emma didn''t even blink. "Uh-huh..." "And she told me a few things. About what you did. How bad it was." The tapping of her foot slowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. Greg thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "I''m sure she did." Greg swallowed, feeling like he''d just stepped into a trap he couldn''t see. "And then yesterday, I had more questions. So I went to go talk to her." Emma''s head tilted slightly, her voice dripping with an almost mocking curiosity. "And let me guess, you went to her house?" He nodded, hesitating. "Yeah... Emma, I went to her house." "Don''t mind me," She said, waving a hand in the air as if to clear the space between them. Her smile didn''t reach her eyes. "I''m just making sure I have all the details. Continue." Greg exhaled through his nose, trying to ignore the growing knot in his chest. "I asked her more questions. She told me everything. About... about you specifically. How you''ve been torturing her. Mentally, I mean." He stumbled over the words, his voice lowering as if admitting it made it worse somehow. "Like, that''s messed up, Emma. I didn''t think about it much when you explained your side, but from what Taylor told me, you lied to me. Why did you do all of that?" Silence. For a few seconds, Emma didn''t say anything. She stared at him, her arms still crossed, her foot tapping again¡ªfaster this time. Her pink crop top shifted slightly as she adjusted her stance, her face unreadable but sharp. "So... while I¡¯ve been stuck in a hospital bed, you¡¯ve been what? Grabbing lunch with her? Catching up? Talking to her while I was in a fucking coma?" Her tone was light, too light, but her eyes narrowed as she spoke, voice growing more clipped towards the end. Greg''s eyes widened. "That is not what I''m saying. No." Emma''s eyebrows arched as her arms dropped to her sides, her head tilting like she couldn''t believe what she was hearing. "And you''ve been hanging out with her." Greg''s words spilled out, too fast and too defensive. "No." "Buying her food." "I bought myself food!" He threw his hands up, his voice rising. "She was just there! Anything she got was like... a rounding error in comparison." Emma''s eyes narrowed, her voice cutting in sharply. "And you''ve been going to her house, too? Like, you know where she lives for some fucking reason." Greg felt like the air was being sucked out of his lungs. "I got it off Winslow''s records," He said quickly. "I didn''t ask her for it." "Oh wow," Emma said, her voice dripping with exaggerated surprise. She took a step back, her hands resting on her hips. "So you wanted to be around her so much, you put the effort in to hack the school." Greg''s mouth opened, then closed. "Hack is a big word. I mean¡ª" "Did you kiss her?" She asked suddenly, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. Greg blinked, the question slamming into him like a truck. "What. Huh. I mean... Hm?" He swallowed hard, his brain scrambling for something¡ªanything¡ªto say. Emma''s eyes narrowed further, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Did. You. Kiss. Hebert?" Greg felt his throat tighten, his words coming out uneven. "No! I promise you, I did not kiss her." Emma''s lips curled into a cold smile, one hand reaching for the doorknob. "Go fuck yourself, Greg." The door slammed in his face before he could even process what had happened. For a second, he just stood there, staring at the painted wood, his mouth falling open slightly. "Come on, Emma..." He muttered, his voice barely audible as he threw his hands up in exasperation. He turned around, his shoulders sagging as he took a step away from the house, his mind racing with everything that had just unfolded. "Wait... wait a minute..." Greg said, more to himself than anyone else. She never even answered my questions. His arms dropped to his sides, his head tilting back slightly as he stared at the sky. "How am I the bad guy here?" Cutscene: Takeshi Cutscene: Takeshi ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C Salt and rust scraped Tak''s throat raw with each breath. He shifted his weight, trying to find a less painful position on the concrete as he adjusted his grip on the binoculars. The plastic was warm, almost hot from hours of use. Below, water slapped against weathered pylons while the warehouse''s metal siding creaked and groaned. His own shallow breaths filled the spaces between. A distant siren wailed, then faded - just another night in the Bay. Shouldn''t even be here. Boss Seo''s orders had been clear enough - stick to the usual spots, keep it simple. But he''d caught that first flicker of movement, strangers slipping in and out of the warehouse. No colors, no crew markings. Nothing that made sense. So he''d stayed, watching. Which meant spending most of the last day crouched on this rooftop, the older teenager''s knees screaming at him the whole time. The concrete felt custom-designed to destroy joints, each tiny shift sending needles of pain up his legs. His stomach twisted - partly hunger, mostly the constant edge of knowing he was somewhere he shouldn''t be. Sure, Hardkour had driven the Empire out of this chunk of territory yesterday, but they never stayed gone long. Like vultures circling a corpse, they always came back. But this... this wasn''t vultures. Not with how they moved, not with those weapons he''d spotted. Tak scanned the shadows again, mapping the spaces big enough to hide an army. Or worse - capes. The movements he''d seen didn''t match any crew he knew. Not Empire swagger, not the Dragons'' precise formations. Too quiet for Triads. He traced the building''s outline through the lenses, marking each exit point, each broken window that could hide a sniper. No signs, no tags, no faces he recognized from his usual surveillance runs. Just... outliers. His fingers tightened on the binoculars. Wrong place, wrong time. Five of them so far, each one wrong in their own way. His watch ticked past another hour as Tak pieced together what he could see. None of it added up to anything he recognized. The pit in his stomach grew deeper with each passing minute. The ache in his spine had gone from annoying to brutal, but he kept his pose rigid. That fighter''s instinct, the one that had saved his ass more times than Tak could count, hummed a warning in his gut. Something coming. His knuckles brushed the binoculars as he exhaled, steadying himself. A cold breeze carried the smell of the bay, making him shiver despite the warmth of the night. The air shifted ¡ª soft but sharp, like reality bending under new weight. A thump behind him. Quiet. Deliberate. Too deliberate. Tak''s body moved before his mind caught up, spinning as the binoculars swung from one hand. Training kicked in: center mass, guard up, ready to- Red mask. Blond hair. White lenses staring back, blank and unreadable. Boss. Tak''s throat went dry as he forced himself to straighten, pulse thundering in his ears. "Boss," he managed, the word clipped. His foot slid back on instinct, putting space between them. Hardkour didn''t move. Just perched there on the edge, one knee up, other leg dangling over empty air like the six-story drop meant nothing. Capes. Tak let out a slow breath, trying to steady his nerves. Hardkour didn''t acknowledge the greeting, didn''t even seem to register it. His focus was somewhere else, somewhere sharp and distant. Tak knew better than to ask where. "Just tell me what''s going on," Hardkour said, voice flat. No patience, no warmth. Tak swallowed, nodding quick. The binoculars swung from his fingers as he started talking, words coming fast. "Boss Seo had me checking the usual hot spots, but I ended up finding some new capes. Ones that don''t fit anywhere. Not doing hero stuff, not gang stuff. Just... there." He cleared his throat. "Been keeping an eye on that warehouse," Tak said, jerking his chin toward the shadowy building. "Spotted these new players going inside. They¡¯re... weird." Hardkour''s mask didn''t move, but Tak felt the weight of his attention shift, zeroing in. "Yeah," Tak continued, voice steadier now as he found his rhythm. "Just a small group. I''ve been watching for about a day; there¡¯s five of them. Boss Seo told me about some guys to keep on the lookout for, I think these might be it. Hardkour''s lenses tilted toward the warehouse, but he said nothing. Tak swallowed and pressed on. Tak listed them off, voice clipped. "First guy''s definitely a brute. Big. Bad dye job on a red leather vest. Cargo pants. Ground shakes a little when he walks. Second''s... twitchy. Rail-thin. Spiky hair. Goggles. No shirt and a blue tattoo on his chest¡ªlooks like a brain, or something close." He paused, glancing at Hardkour for a reaction. Nothing. So he kept going. "Third''s a black dude with a blue mohawk. Neon blue tracksuit." A tremor raced through Tak''s hands as his fingers tightened around the binoculars. Metal dug into his palms through the thin plastic coating. "Fourth guy''s all black. Quiet. Sniper rifle¡ªfolds up. Might be Tinkertech." His eyes swept over the warehouse''s broken windows, mind mapping bullet trajectories and firing angles from each vantage point. The rifle''s sleek design stuck in his memory ¡ª too advanced for the typical street gangs, too clean for an Empire 88 hitter. "Haven''t seen him use it yet, but he''s been scoping out the place more than the others. Had to duck out when he makes the rounds.¡± Night wind pushed salt-heavy air between them as he watched Hardkour. The cape hadn''t moved, but the space between them crackled with something electric, dangerous. Power radiated off him in waves that made Tak''s teeth ache. He shifted his weight, ribs screaming as muscle and bone protested the movement. Each breath brought fresh spikes of pain as he forced out the last description. "Fifth''s different." His voice dropped with each word, barely above a whisper. The memory of that fluid movement sent ice through his veins. "Silver costume. Full face mask. Moves like an acrobat¡ªfast, smooth. Like..." The words caught in his throat as phantom images flashed - that silver blur cutting through shadows, defying physics. "Scary smooth." Hardkour''s head tilted. Just a fraction. Just enough. Those blank lenses locked onto Tak like crosshairs, and the air grew dense with each passing second. The subtle shift in his posture sent warning signals firing through Tak''s brain. His animal instincts screamed at him to move, to run. "Sound familiar?" The question slipped out before he could stop it. Tak''s throat closed up as silence flooded the space between them, thick as the bay''s salt-rust stink. The distant sound of traffic felt like it belonged to another world entirely. Metal groaned beneath Hardkour''s boots as he leaned forward. His frame coiled tight, muscles bunching under that costume like steel cables ready to snap. Tak had witnessed this before¡ªthe moment before Hardkour unleashed hell. His heart hammered against his ribs, each beat sending tremors through his chest.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Concrete scraped against his shoes as Tak eased back. The roof''s edge loomed closer with each step, but Hardkour''s presence made the whole world feel claustrophobic. Wind whipped his jacket around his legs as he moved. Great. Here we go. Someone''s about to die. The thought sparked through his mind as Tak caught that telltale tension in Hardkour''s shoulders, the way his fists clenched at his sides. Even the air seemed to retreat from the cape''s growing rage. Slique. The name burned in Tak''s mind like acid. Boss Seo''s warnings echoed: not just muscle, not just another cape. This was personal. A San Francisco mercenary with a reputation for being untouchable, uncatchable. Now here playing house in a dead thrift store, like painting that target on his back was smart when the boss was still around and holding a grudge. And Hardkour? Grudges were currency in his world. Tak had seen what happened to people who crossed the boss. The lucky ones ended up in hospital beds. The others... Knuckles cracked through the night. Sharp. Deliberate. Tak''s gaze snapped to those flexing fingers, watching them curl and uncurl. His pulse thundered in his ears as sweat trickled down his spine. Don''t go off, boss. Not yet. "Where is he?" A killer''s whisper that made the hairs on Tak''s neck stand up. Tak''s hand twitched toward his backpack strap before he caught himself. Weakness wasn''t an option, not with Hardkour wound this tight. "In there, boss, right fucking there." He jerked his chin at the warehouse, forcing steel into his voice while his heart tried to escape through his throat. Streetlights cast weird shadows across the building''s face, turning broken windows into watching eyes. "Used to be a thrift store. They''ve been holed up for a couple days. Not much activity, but they''re definitely in there." Hardkour''s boots scraped concrete as he tipped forward over the edge. Tak''s muscles tensed, ready to lunge forward¡ªbut of course the boss didn''t fall. He hung there like gravity was optional, like the laws of physics bent around him just because he said so. The sight made Tak''s skin crawl as memories of other rooftops, other nights filled his mind. The boss never fell. His targets did. The air vibrated with suppressed energy as Hardkour stared down at the building. Tak recognized that tension, knew what came after. He''d seen it before¡ªseen the aftermath. Seen what happened when the boss decided to snap. Last time, Hardkour threw a full-sized truck through a building and set half a block on fire. Being collateral wasn''t on Tak¡¯s agenda. Another step back, shoulders hunching as he tried to shrink away. Rough concrete caught at his heel. Okay, Tak, think. You''re getting paid for this. Get ahead of it. "Before you do anything, boss¡­" Tak''s voice caught in his throat, raw from hours of silence. Wind whipped his jacket as he steadied his tone. No orders ¡ª you never tried to tell a boss what to do. But he had to slow this down. "Just hold up a sec." Hardkour''s head turned with mechanical precision. Those blank lenses fixed on Tak''s face, reflecting nothing but darkness. "What?" Cold sweat trickled down Tak''s spine as he felt that attention press down on him. His fingers flexed, muscle memory from a hundred fights urging him to take a stance. Careful. The roof''s edge yawned behind him, a thirty-something foot drop to unforgiving concrete. He slid sideways, each movement calculated to avoid sudden moves. The makeshift surveillance post he''d built near the roof''s edge beckoned - a lifeline. "Been busy while I was watching," he said, keeping his voice flat. The cobbled-together setup squatted on a warped desk: satellite dish scored from a dumpster two blocks over, wires stripped and twisted into new configurations, headphones patched with electrical tape. Hardkour stood motionless, but his attention shifted like a searchlight sweeping the gear. Static crackled from the headphones, echoing his silence. "What''s this?" "Recon." Tak''s fingers found the dish''s edge, cold metal anchoring him to reality as his heart hammered against his ribs. Rust flaked under his touch, staining his fingertips red. The familiar technology steadied him, gave him something concrete to focus on besides the killing machine three feet away. "It''s a basic rig," he continued into the vacuum of Hardkour''s silence. His hands moved over the equipment, muscle memory taking over. "Directional mic. Bugged the place last night when they went for supplies." The headphones clicked under his touch, plastic worn smooth from hours of use. "Picks up chatter from a few hundred meters. Figured it might give us a leg up. Thought you''d wanna know what''s going on before youwe, uh... jump in." Hardkour''s attention remained locked on the equipment, weighing, measuring. Tak forced air into his lungs, trying to ignore how the cape''s presence made the whole rooftop feel like a cage. The boss hadn''t moved yet - that was something. Better than watching him tear through walls. "They''re not talking much." Words spilled out as Tak settled into the familiar rhythm of intel work, hands ghosting over dials and switches he''d adjusted a hundred times tonight. "Mostly logistics. Supply routes. Security patterns." His throat tightened as he hit the important part. "But the silver guy?" He risked a glance at Hardkour''s clenched fists before pushing on. "He''s usually out there himself, doing little flips and tricks, keeping up practice, I guess.¡± The boss''s fingers uncurled fractionally. Tak''s racing pulse slowed a tick as the immediate threat of violence ebbed. Hardkour''s stance shifted, but with purpose now. Good. He''s processing. Work with that. "Silver guy." Hardkour dragged the words out like they hurt. "Slique. What else about him?" Tak nodded once, sharp and precise. His stomach rolled as memories from intelligence briefs surfaced. He''d never met Slique, but the reports painted a clear picture: mercenary through and through, body count as high as his rates. The kind of guy who shouldn''t have made this personal, but somehow had. "Yeah," Tak''s voice scraped out rough from hours of silence. His throat burned as he watched Hardkour''s mask for any hint of reaction. "He''s giving orders. Running things. The others pretty much seem to follow what he says." A chill ran down his spine as memories of that silver blur flashed through his mind. "Guy keeps his head down when he''s not moving.¡± The words caught in his throat before he pushed them out. "Like he figures you might be watching." That last line hit like a hammer strike. Hardkour''s head tilted, lenses catching the dim glow of distant streetlights. His whole frame shifted - just enough to tell Tak he wasn''t about to launch himself off the roof. Not yet. "So¡­" The word hung in the air as Tak felt sweat trickle down his neck. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to run, but he held his ground. "Figured you might wanna do some recon first." His hand drifted toward the surveillance setup, fingers trembling slightly as they gestured to the cobbled-together equipment. Static crackled through the headphones as wind whistled between buildings, Hardkour taking a few steps toward the setup. Tak''s heart hammered against his ribs as the boss closed the distance. The boss''s gloved fingers hovered over the headphones. The leather creaked as his hand flexed. For a brief moment, Tak dared to hope. Maybe I can stall him long enough to get a few blocks out of range. "What else?" Hardkour''s voice sliced through the ambient noise. Each word carried the weight of barely-contained violence. The frustration beneath that controlled tone made Tak''s skin crawl. "Uh, right." Tak''s mind raced as he sorted through hours of intel. His fingers drummed against his thigh, an unconscious tell he couldn''t quite suppress. "The group''s been quiet most of the day. No heavy movement. No reinforcements coming in." His eyes darted to the warehouse, mapping sight lines he''d memorized over countless hours. "But they''ve been checking their gear. Constantly. Like they''re prepping for something big. I caught mentions of timing - ''soon,'' ''tonight.'' Nothing specific, but..." The pressure in his chest built with each word. "It''s coming." A ripple passed through Hardkour''s shoulders - subtle, but enough to make Tak''s breath catch. Words spilled out of him, filling the dangerous silence. "The sniper? He''s got the high ground inside. Covering exits like a pro. Their insurance policy." His hand swept toward the warehouse, painting invisible lines between firing positions. "The others spread out in coverage patterns. No blind spots, no gaps. They know what they''re doing." "And Slique?" The name came out as a growl. "He''s been moving. Constant motion," Tak pushed the words out fast. "Never stays still long enough to track properly. But..." His voice slowed as he remembered watching that fluid grace, that impossible speed. "He''s fast. Really fast. Caught him running what looked like combat drills earlier. Not just athletic moves ¡ª military-grade stuff. These guys¡­ they¡¯re trained." Don''t break it. Please don''t break it. The thought echoed as he watched Hardkour''s grip tighten on the headphones. The tension crackled like ozone before a storm - raw power waiting to be unleashed. Hardkour''s voice cut through the static. "Turn it on." Grief 7.14 Grief 7.14 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C The thrift store smelled like mothballs and broken dreams. A cardboard cutout of Betty White smiled eternally from behind a rack of Hawaiian shirts, all of them stained in exactly the same place. Fluorescent lights buzzed conspiratorially above mannequins in various states of disrepair. One was wearing half a wedding dress and a motorcycle helmet. Another had three arms, none of them matching. A dark-skinned young man with dreadlocked hair dyed a garish platinum blond and tied back into a messy ponytail stood adjusting his blazer cuffs for the fourteenth time in three minutes with a self-satisfied smirk worn proudly. The price tag was still hanging from his sleeve - $249.99, marked down to $6.50. His tattoos shifted under the fabric like living things, blue ink catching the light every time he moved. "You know what''s funny about this place?" he asked no one in particular, ink-black eyes entirely lacking pupils making the smile he wore look distinctly threatening. "That mirror''s the only thing worth more than twenty bucks." Slique¡¯s chrome mask fractured into a kaleidoscope in the cracked mirror. Rainbow trails bloomed under his fingers, like oil slicks. "Funnier that you''re counting other people''s money while wearing clearance rack Armani, Nox." "It''s Versace, actually." Nox''s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "And I got it for a steal." A snort like a freight train echoed from near the empty shelves where a massive frame loomed, making the space feel even more cramped than it was. His skin bore a lifetime of scars and weathering, aging an otherwise young-looking face in the oddest of ways. He had a tiny plastic tiara perched on his permanently bruised and entirely bald head - probably swiped from the children''s accessories bin. It sparkled every time he moved, a sharp contrast to the rust red padded vest he wore in his chest with the word ¡°Brunt¡± spray painted on it in black. "Ya''ll are wearing dead folks'' clothes and arguing about brands?" Metal scraped metal as a figure in the back of the old store cleaned his rifle, a thin man with black hair and blacker clothing accented by bits of blue, sat surrounded by porcelain dolls in a perfect semicircle. Their vacant stares didn¡¯t bother him. One wore an eyepatch of electrical tape. ¡°The dead don¡¯t need clothes,¡± he muttered, not looking up. ¡°Or mirrors. Or tiaras.¡± "Some of us have standards, Tangent," Slique replied, his power leaving prismatic trails as he moved. A nearby rack of shoes began slowly sliding across the floor, friction apparently taking a coffee break. "Even if we''re working with... tools." "Tools?" Nox''s laugh could have stripped paint. "That''s rich coming from someone who treats walls like they''re moving walkways at the airport. At least I fight on solid ground." "When you can see it," Brunt rumbled, adjusting his tiara with surprising delicacy for hands that could crush concrete. "Better half-blind than half-assed," Nox shot back, but his fingers were tapping an uneven rhythm against the counter now. Slique turned away from the mirror, with a scoff on his lips. "Efficiency isn''t about pride. It''s about results. You''re all here because you''re useful. Nothing more." Tangent''s rifle clicked as he reassembled it, the sound precise as a metronome. "This little dick-measuring contest done yet?" His voice was as flat as day-old soda. "Or do we need to sit through another round before we actually talk strategy?" "Thank G-G-God," Another figure blurted, blurring between display cases like a caffeinated pinball. His blue-haired reflection multiplied across the cracked glass, each one showing a different twitch or tic. The man¡¯s hands fluttered at his sides like electrocuted butterflies, blue light pulsing under the bare skin of his chest and arms in seizure-induing patterns. "Finally. S-s-seriously, we''re wasting time here.¡± He scratched the blue-inked tattoo of an electrified brain in the center of his chest. ¡°We got, like, a million things we c-could be doing instead of just... this." Slique tilted his head like an overly curious cat. "We?" The word dripped from his mask like quicksilver. "You''re part of this now, Snapt. Remember that. Your time isn''t yours anymore." Snapt froze mid-bounce, his fingers conducting an invisible orchestra. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, eyes darting toward Brunt faster than a shoplifter spotting security. The massive man hadn''t moved, but his presence filled the space like concrete filled a grave even as the plastic tiara sparkled menacingly. "Enough," Tangent repeated. His rifle came up with mechanical grace. "What''s the plan?" "Y-y-yeah," Snapt continued. "We''re not just sitting here for story time, are we?" Snapt¡¯s footsteps drummed against the warped floorboards, syncopated with Tangent¡¯s rifle checks and the airy whistle of wind through broken windows "Don''t rush genius," Nox drawled, adjusting his discount designer lapel with the air of a man who''d practiced the motion in front of a mirror. Several mirrors, probably. His smirk could have curdled milk. "You can''t hurry art, Snapt." "A-a-art?" Snapt''s stutter hit the word like a speed bump, his circuit around the counter stuttering as one hand spasmed toward his face before dropping like a failed high-five. The blue glow under his skin strobed in time with the dying fluorescents overhead. "This ain''t art. This is sitting around l-l-like we''re waiting for an oven timer. What''re we even¡ªwhat''re we even doing, huh?" "You''re stuttering through your third loop around that counter," Slique noted with all the warmth of a morgue freezer. "It''s almost impressive how much nervous energy you have. Almost." Snapt''s glare could have melted ice, if the ice was already mostly water and sitting in direct sunlight. "You''re real good at w-wasting time, huh? Bet that''s w-w-why you needed backup." Slique stepped forward. "Funny.¡± His voice could have frozen helium, "coming from someone who can''t stand still long enough to follow instructions." "Boys," Tangent''s voice cut through the tension. He cradled his rifle like it was the only sane person in the room. "Play nice. Or don''t. I don''t care. Just don''t get in my way." "Good to know the robot has an opinion," Nox quipped, slouching against the counter. His fingers tap-danced across the cracked surface in a poor rhythm. "What about you, big guy? Wanna weigh in? Maybe settle this little spat before someone loses a tooth?" Brunt''s grunt made the shelves shiver. He unfolded his arms with the deliberate grace of an avalanche deciding which way to fall, muscles rippling under his vest like tectonic plates. "I think y''all just like hearing yourselves talk," his drawl thick as Mississippi mud pie, "but I''ll break a jaw if it means some peace and quiet." Nox''s hands shot up faster than retail prices near Christmas, his surrender more mock than a courtroom re-enactment. "Noted. Point taken." Slique''s mask caught the dying light like a disco ball at a funeral, fragments of reflection dancing as he turned toward the window. His gloved fingers tested the glass with the careful precision of someone checking if milk has gone bad, leaving rainbow-sheened fingerprints that seemed to bend reality slightly sideways. "This isn''t a democracy," he announced coldly. "You''re here because I wanted efficiency, not feedback." "Yeah?" Nox leaned forward like a cat spotting an especially judgmental mouse, his clearance-rack Versace creasing. "Then maybe you should''ve hired quieter help." "Or smarter help," Slique replied without turning, his words hitting the room hard. Snapt''s hands shot up, neural patterns surging blue-white under his skin before fizzling out like cheap Christmas lights. "G-great. Awesome. This is f-f-fantastic teamwork right here." His pacing resumed with the manic energy of a squirrel after three espressos, each step making the display case rattle. "You wanna lead, lead. But s-sitting around cracking jokes? Not a plan." Tangent''s rifle clicked, the scope snapping into place with mechanical perfection. He rose from his crouch, weapon balanced in his hands like a particularly lethal dance partner as his pale eyes fixed on the group. "Plan." The word dropped into the room like a penny in a wishing well. The fluorescent lights buzzed their approval as Snapt''s sneakers squeaked a counterpoint against the warped floorboards. Slique surveyed them through his mask, their reflections warping and stretching. "What''s the plan?" Tangent pressed, his tone as blank as flat soda. "Y-y-y-yeah," Snapt''s words tumbled out in fits and starts. "We''re not just sitting here for story time, are we?" The air thickened like grocery store gravy as Slique seemed to take his time responding, each movement measured like he was being charged by the second. Snapt''s sneaker screeched against the floor, his pacing stuttering into a half-step forward. "So? We just g-gonna stare at each other, or are we¡ª" "You''re making it harder to think," Slique cut in. "All energy, no direction." Snapt jerked to a stop like someone had hit his pause button. "Direction? Oh, right, because s-s-sitting around waiting for your big brain to come up with something better is real f-f-fucking productive." "Snapt." Brunt''s voice rolled through the room. "Shut up." Snapt folded in on himself like a card table at closing time, shoving twitching fingers deep into jacket pockets. His resumed pacing had the guilty shuffle of a cat pretending it hadn''t just knocked something off a table. Nox snorted, adjusting his cuffs with the dedication of someone avoiding actual work. "And here I thought this was going to be boring. Nothing like watching a team fall apart before the job even starts." "That''s enough," Tangent declared, voice cold as ever. His rifle received another adjustment that seemed more therapeutic than necessary. "Either we''re working or we''re not. Pick one." The tension hummed through the air, all eyes drawn to Slique as if magnetized. He propped one foot against the wall with calculated casualness, leaving a slick spot where his limb rested. His head tilted just enough to acknowledge their existence, like a cat deciding whether to knock a glass off a table. "You want a plan?" Slique''s tone suggested he''d rather be explaining basic math to a particularly dense rock. "Fine. Here''s the plan. We go in, we hit fast, we clear out. No room for hesitation, no room for mistakes. Brunt takes point, clears the path. Tangent sets up wherever he can see the most angles. Nox does what Nox does best." His gaze swung toward Snapt. "And you? You keep your head on straight. Or I''ll do it for you." "Bold words," Nox drawled, smirking like a cat. His lean against the counter looked rehearsed enough to have its own choreographer. "Especially for a guy who just admitted he can''t do this alone." Slique stepped forward with the careful menace of a tax notice. The shimmer of his power spread beneath his boots like an oil spill, turning the warped floorboards into a funhouse mirror''s nightmare. "I don''t need you," each word precise as a surgeon with OCD. "You''re here because you make it faster. Don''t confuse that with essential." Brunt''s chuckle rolled through the room like thunder deciding to take up comedy. His massive frame made the sagging shelves behind him look like they were having an existential crisis, while his tiara somehow managed to sparkle threateningly. "He''s got you there, Nox." "Yeah, yeah," Nox flicked his wrist dismissively, still grinning like a used car salesman who''d just found his groove. "But I''m the one who keeps things interesting." "Interesting isn''t what we need," Tangent announced, his rifle''s bolt snapping home with the finality of a bank closing early. He rose like an automaton, the weapon sliding across his back with mechanical grace. "We need efficient." "Y-y-yeah," Snapt''s stutter tap-danced through the silence like morse code on fast forward. "We''re not just sitting here for story time, are we?" Betty White''s cardboard smile seemed to take on a knowing edge as the fluorescents overhead played a symphony of dying bugs. Snapt''s sneakers continued their nervous percussion against the floor, each squeak harmonizing with the building''s asthmatic ventilation system. Nox shifted his weight like a pendulum looking for attention, gesturing toward Snapt. "He''s got a point. Might be the only coherent thing he''s said all night, but hey, even a busted clock, right?" Neural patterns surged under Snapt''s skin as he whipped toward Nox, glaring as hard as his twitchy eyes could manage. "G-go fuck yourself, Nox. I''m the one still standing w-while you''re out here playing... what, the team comedian? N-not helping." "Sure," Nox purred, studying his nails. "Because your neon rave routine has been invaluable so far." Brunt''s laugh rumbled through the room like an avalanche taking a coffee break. He leaned forward with the deliberate grace of a glacier, the shelves behind him creaking. "Y''all ain''t ever gonna get along, huh?" Slique glided into the center of the room as rainbow sheens spread beneath each step. His mask caught the light like a mirror practicing intimidation. "Focus." Snapt froze mid-twitch, his perpetual motion machine suddenly discovering pause. Tangent''s eyes flicked up from his rifle with as much emotion as you''d expect from an ATM. Nox''s shrug could have won awards for most theatrical surrender. "This isn''t story time," Slique continued. He positioned himself before a makeshift table that looked like it had been assembled from yard sale leftovers. "But if any of you want to treat it like one, feel free to walk out that door. Now." The silence that followed had weight, mass, and possibly its own tax bracket.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "Good." Something crinkled in Slique''s pocket. He withdrew and unfolded it with the precision of an origami master, smoothing it across the table''s dusty surface. His gloved hands pinned the corners, the fluorescent lights overhead casting dramatic shadows across what was taking shape before them. Tangent raised an eyebrow but didn''t say anything as he stared at what could only be a map of Brockton Bay. The map was part transit schedule, part serial killer manifesto. Red lines carved up Brockton Bay into surgical dissections, while timestamps and coordinates crowded the margins. A dead fly lay perfectly centered on Market Street, its tiny corpse circled three times in red ink. "Everyone over here." The command left no room for discussion. Brunt''s boots hit the floor like artillery shells as he approached, each impact making the building remember its structural integrity issues. His tiara caught the light at exactly the wrong angle, temporarily blinding Snapt for a moment as the wiry man let out a curse. Nox drifted over next, price tag fluttering. Tangent didn''t bother standing, just dragged his chair closer with rifle parts cascading into his lap. The screech of metal on wood made everyone wince except him. Snapt ricocheted between three different positions before settling, patterns under his skin dancing with each motion. He''d somehow acquired a rubber band and was stretching it between his fingers with the intense focus of someone defusing a bomb. "What''s with the spiderweb?" Brunt moved closer and leaned down until his shadow swallowed half the table. "You been doodling, Slique?" "Tracking the kid." Slique''s finger landed on what might have been a coffee stain near the Boardwalk. "He''s predictable when he''s on patrol. Sticks to a pattern, mostly." "A cape with a schedule?" Nox''s designer knockoff creaked as he leaned forward. "Adorable." "Problem is¡ª" Slique started, but stopped as a distant ballerina music box hit a particularly sour note. The tiny dancer spun faster, as if trying to escape its own melody. "Problem is, he''s not stupid. Randomizes his drop-off points." A moth committed suicide against the nearest fluorescent tube with a decisive pop as Tangent assembled three different rifle parts without looking, his movements precise as automated machinery. The dead fly on Market Street buzzed in a way that was very not-dead. "Makes sense." Click-click-click went another piece into place. "Basic counter-surveillance." "So we''re chasing shadows." Brunt''s voice rumbled. "Sounds like a waste of time." "Not quite." Slique''s mask reflected five different versions of the same tension. "Made a call to the client. He wouldn¡¯t share anything but he connected me with another cape I¡¯ve gotten to know well. She offered some... interesting details." Snapt''s rubber band snapped, the sharp crack making everyone but Tangent flinch. He was already reaching for another one. "Details like what?" Nox''s smirk had teeth now. Slique''s hand moved across the map like a blade. "His name. His address. His family." Each word landed with precision. "Friends. His patterns, behaviors, places he goes when he''s not wearing a mask." The room shifted. Brunt''s knuckles cracked like gunshots. Tangent''s assembly routine accelerated to blur-speed. Nox''s posture changed from ''amused cat'' to ''shark that smells blood.'' Snapt''s new rubber band stretched to breaking point. "So what''s the play?" The excitement in Nox''s voice was real now, sharp as broken glass. "Gonna send a little message to his mom?" "If it works." Slique shrugged, but the casual gesture felt weaponized. "Point is, we don''t need to chase him anymore. We make him come to us." Brunt''s laugh shook dust from the ceiling. "Now we''re talking." "What if he doesn''t fold?" Tangent asked, his voice as flat as ever, though his hands paused for a moment over his rifle. "Then we make our point another way," Slique said, his gloved finger tapping the map again, the sound like a faint drumbeat of inevitability. "He''s smart, but he''s not invincible. We hit what he cares about. He''ll break. Doubt he''s gonna be on his best game when mommy ends up car bombed." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The headphones came off with a faint click, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the still night air that hung heavy over the docks. His fingers lingered in place, hovering in empty space as the weight vanished from his palm, until Takeshi''s hands¡ªcareful, hesitant movements that betrayed his nervousness¡ªreached out to take them away. The exchange barely registered through the static filling his head, vision tunneling as his eyes locked onto the warehouse looming ahead: a hulking block of shadow in the half-lit industrial sprawl, its aluminum siding punctured by weak yellow light that bled through gaps like infected wounds. The word kept echoing, sharp and serrated, cutting deeper with each repeat. Car bombed. Not shouted in anger or sneered with hate¡ªjust said. Casual. Offhand. Like ordering fries at a drive-thru or asking someone to pass the salt. The kind of tone that made it clear this wasn''t the first time, and wouldn''t be the last. The laugh in the merc''s voice made it worse, that barely-restrained amusement riding under his words. The sound of someone who found the whole thing funny, who got off on other people''s fear. Slique. The kind of man who thought killing people was worth a good laugh. Who treated murder like a punch line. Car bombed. It hit harder the second time, third time, fourth¡ªeach echo carrying fresh weight as the implications sank in. His jaw tightened until his teeth creaked, the pressure building behind his eyes as something cold and razor-sharp crystallized in his chest: He knows who I am. He knows about my mom. The world went quiet, sound dropping away like someone had hit mute. Not real quiet¡ªhe could still hear Takeshi shifting nervously beside him, sneakers scuffing concrete, the electric drone of distant street lamps humming through the night¡ªbut the kind of quiet that came from pressure. From focus. A muted roar filling his ears as his awareness narrowed to a single point: that warehouse and the five bodies inside it. Five distinct voices he''d heard through those headphones. Five separate threats to eliminate. The rage simmered just below the surface, a constant low boil in his veins, but not enough to make him explode. Not yet. A soft, hesitant voice broke through the pressure. "...Boss?" Hardkour blinked, his mind snapping back like an over-stretched rubber band finally giving way. He turned his head slightly, the motion mechanical as he glanced at Takeshi. The older teen just stood there, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging slightly open, like he was waiting for the punchline to a particularly bad joke that he already knew would hurt. Hardkour stared at him for a long beat, the question hanging unanswered in the air between them. "Oh," he said finally, voice flat and empty. "You''re still here." It wasn''t meant as a threat. Not at all. But the way Takeshi flinched, stepping back as if Hardkour had raised a hand instead of his voice, made it clear how it sounded. His lips moved silently, searching for words that wouldn''t come as sweat began to bead at his temple. Hardkour tilted his head, an almost birdlike motion, and blinked behind the red sheen of his helmet''s visor. His voice came quieter this time, just a little softer around the edges. "That wasn''t a threat. I just forgot you were here." Takeshi froze, like he wasn''t sure if that was better or worse. "Oh," he managed after a beat. "Yeah." Hardkour nodded once, turning back to the warehouse. "Relax." "...Right." Takeshi tried to straighten up, but his posture stayed hunched. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sure." Hardkour didn''t look at him again, attention sliding back to the target ahead with laser focus. "I can''t order you to relax," he added, the words drifting out almost as an afterthought. "I''m just saying you should try." "Uh...okay." The other kid''s nerves radiated off him in waves, but Hardkour couldn''t spare the focus to play therapist. His attention tunneled inward, sinking into the deep well of cold rage thrumming through his veins. This wasn''t the kind of anger that burned¡ªit froze, crystallizing into something sharp and deadly in his chest. His breathing stayed measured, controlled, each inhale and exhale carefully counted like he''d practiced, but the technique felt hollow. Pointless, with those words still scratching at the back of his skull like rats in the walls. Car bombed. His mother. The sting behind his eyes wasn''t tears¡ªit was transformation. The familiar pressure built as his pupils contracted, narrowing to predatory slits that caught every flicker of movement, every shadow. His teeth ached as they sharpened, pressing against the inside of his lips. Another deep breath did nothing to slow the changes. His fingers curled inward, joints popping as claws threatened to emerge. Rage wasn''t enough. Rage was a liability, a path to mistakes he couldn''t afford. These weren''t just enemies to defeat¡ªthey were threats to eliminate. Walking time bombs aimed at everyone he cared about, everyone unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius. Power hummed beneath his skin as Hardkour shifted his stance, an electric current racing through taut muscles. His fingers twitched, power begging for release. The urge to charge in screamed through his blood¡ªto play the hero, to tear through walls and bodies until nothing remained but wreckage and red mist. But recklessness meant risk. One survivor was all it would take, one merc living long enough to make a phone call. To pass on what they knew. To put a target on his mother''s back. Unacceptable. This wasn''t going to be a fight. Fights had rules, had limits. Had survivors. This was going to be an execution. "Takeshi." The teen''s posture snapped straight, headphones still clutched in his hands like a shield. "Yeah, boss?" "Step back." Each word fell like ice, precise and sharp. Not a request¡ªa warning. Hardkour kept his gaze locked on the warehouse, tracking the shadows that shifted behind thin walls, cast by sickly yellow light that flickered like dying fireflies. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his hands, feeling the burn of claws pushing against skin, begging to emerge. The rage had crystallized now, a glacier in his chest that wouldn''t melt until the threat was eliminated. Time to get to work. He squared his shoulders, stance widening as he studied his target. The warehouse squatted at the street''s end like a diseased toad, corrugated walls streaked with rust that looked more like dried blood than oxidized metal. Shadows danced across warped aluminum siding, thrown by the weak light bleeding through gaps in the walls. His movements were precise as he brought his hands together, one palm pressed flat against the back of the other, fingers spread wide. The air between them pulsed once, twice, then rippled with visible heat distortion. A spark ignited in the space between¡ªtiny at first, a mere ember dancing with destructive potential. The flame swelled immediately, twisting and writhing like a living thing as it fed on the mana he channeled into it. The sphere of fire grew rapidly, heat radiating outward in waves that prickled against his skin. Within seconds, it had expanded to the size of a basketball, its surface roiling like liquid glass. Sharp, erratic shadows leapt across the uneven cobblestones as the magical flame cast its deadly light. "Holy¡ª" The curse exploded from behind him as Takeshi stumbled backward, his voice cracking. "What the hell is¡ª" "Stay back," Hardkour said evenly, his voice a stark contrast to the violent chaos writhing between his palms. The words carried the weight of certainty¡ªnot a suggestion or warning, but a simple statement of fact. Takeshi didn''t need to be told twice. His footsteps scuffed against loose gravel as he scrambled backward, finally grasping the meaning behind Hardkour''s earlier warning. The sound of his retreat faded into background noise, barely registering through the low thrum of power building in Hardkour''s hands. The air around the fiery sphere shimmered with distortion, light bending and warping into waves that rippled like heat haze over summer asphalt. Each breath Hardkour drew sent sharp, dry aches through his chest, the superheated air searing his lungs. The flame felt wild beneath his fingers, pushing against his control with predatory intent. Its weight pressed back against his palms with growing force, straining the muscles in his arms and shoulders until they burned, but he refused to give ground. Instead, he drove his focus deeper, channeling his will into the writhing flame. The sphere fought him like a living thing as he began to compress it, but raw determination won out over magical resistance. Sweat traced burning paths down his temples, trickling along his jaw before vanishing into the fabric of his suit. The heat grew more intense with each passing second, the air around his hands starting to shimmer and distort. The fire shrank gradually, its surface growing brighter and sharper as its mass compressed inward. Energy swirled within the sphere like a contained storm, held in check only by the iron grip of his will. By the time it had contracted to volleyball size, the ground beneath had blackened and cracked, giving off faint wisps of smoke. The air itself felt hostile, crackling with potential violence. Another muffled curse drifted from behind him¡ªTakeshi probably unaware he''d even spoken aloud. The sound barely registered through Hardkour''s concentration as he continued to compress the volatile energy. The sphere now vibrated with barely contained force, its surface an unstable fusion of molten orange and eye-searing white that reminded him of footage he''d seen of solar flares. Heat lashed out in waves, scorching the air around his hands until it wavered like water. The low hum of contained power drilled into his chest, resonating through bone and muscle. His arms quivered under the increasing strain, but his stance remained solid as steel. His gaze never wavered from the warehouse, those distant moving shadows reduced to meaningless smudges against the singular focus of his purpose. No hesitation clouded his thoughts, no doubt weakened his resolve. His world contracted to two points of reality: the inferno straining against his grip, and the target waiting to receive it. Another slight shift of his feet positioned him perfectly, weight settling with practiced precision. One more measured breath drawn through clenched teeth. The compressed fire responded by growing impossibly denser, its core darkening to deep orange while the edges blazed white-hot enough to leave afterimages dancing in his vision. The humming deepened to a bone-shaking Thrummm that seemed to ripple through the earth beneath his boots. A final steadying breath. The weapon was primed. Hardkour pulled the condensed sphere closer to his palm, exhaling sharply as the force of it tried to tear his arms apart. Fresh sweat rolled down his neck as the intensity peaked. His focus narrowed to a laser point, the rest of the world falling away into irrelevance. Then, without hesitation, he thrust his leading hand toward the warehouse. The fiery projectile ripped free from his grasp with a deafening roar, tearing through space fast enough to leave the air glowing in its wake. The backlash rippled outward in a visible wave, strong enough to make the ground buckle beneath his planted feet. Searing heat trailed behind it like a comet''s tail as it streaked toward its target. The impact was immediate and catastrophic. The compressed sphere struck the warehouse''s wall and detonated, unleashing a blinding explosion of flame and concussive force. Thunder cracked through the night air as the shockwave expanded outward. The building''s exterior didn''t simply break¡ªit vanished, material flash-vaporizing under the overwhelming heat and pressure. The air itself seemed to catch fire, glowing in rippling waves of orange and white as the flames consumed everything within reach. The warehouse collapsed inward as the inferno swallowed it whole. The walls buckled, the roof caving in before vanishing into the blaze. Whatever hadn¡¯t already been turned to ash was lost in the roiling flames, the sheer heat warping the surrounding air into shimmering waves. Hardkour stood motionless, his arms still extended, as the fire raged in front of him. The searing heat washed over him, the air thick with the smell of ash and burnt oil. He could feel the residual energy vibrating faintly in his chest, the aftermath of unleashing so much concentrated power. The warehouse was gone. In its place was a near crater, edges glowing faintly with residual heat, the ground blackened and scorched. A faint breeze stirred the haze of ash, carrying the remnants of destruction into the night.
Pyrokinesis (Adept) Level Up x 6 14 ¡ú 20
+ 125000 XP Level Up! Lvl 37
+ 5 Acrobatics + 10 STR + 10 VIT + 5 SPD + 5 Electrokinesis + 5 Gunplay: Rifles + 10 Surface Adhesion
¡°Takeshi.¡± Behind him, Takeshi¡¯s voice cracked like a broken radio, squeaking and creaking like a rusty door hinge. ¡°...Y-y-yeah, boss?¡± Hardkour didn¡¯t move, his gaze still fixed on the crater. His voice came low, even. ¡°Call the fire department.¡± Grief 7.15 Grief 7.15 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The school day ended like it always did at Arcadia High: a burst of energy as the doors opened, halls erupting with bodies in motion, the building exhaling its occupants in a chaotic but somehow choreographed release. Taylor¡¯s hand tightened on her backpack strap as she stepped out of the stream of students and onto the sidewalk. The sun hit her face, warm but not comforting, a spotlight she hadn¡¯t asked for. She stepped aside as a trio of students surged past her, their chatter bouncing in a flurry of voices. ¡°-o way she actually said that¡­¡± ¡°-riiiight, and then he¡­¡± She caught fragments, bits of a conversation so trivial and so happy it felt foreign. Not unfamiliar like a word you might¡¯ve once known the meaning of, but alien. It was the kind of easy joy that didn¡¯t exist at Winslow. Not for her. Too polished and far too bright. Her eyes followed them for a second longer than she meant to, watching the way their laughter carried them through the crowd like they belonged. As if they couldn¡¯t imagine a world where they didn¡¯t. Taylor¡¯s feet dragged a little as she stepped back into the flow of bodies. She was still on the edge of this place, not quite a part of it, not really outside of it either. A month here and she still hadn¡¯t figured out where she was supposed to fit. She wasn¡¯t sure she could. Arcadia High was... different. Impossibly so. She could accept that maybe it was just her; after all, the sheen of newness hadn¡¯t worn off. Not really. But still¡­ Everything about this place felt sanitized, curated. No fights in the halls. No whispered insults slipping under the teacher¡¯s radar. No deliberate trips or spilled drinks. Not a single gum wad stuck under a desk, as far as she could tell. It was Winslow¡¯s polar opposite, and yet¡­ It felt wrong. Like a set. Like she¡¯d walked into a Disney Channel original movie, complete with bright-eyed extras and a suspicious lack of real-life grime. The students here laughed too easily, smiled too brightly. They acted like the world wasn¡¯t waiting to stomp them into the dirt the second they let their guard down. It wasn¡¯t even a rich kid¡¯s school like the other one¡­ Immaculata, her brain supplied after a moment. What gives? She hadn¡¯t even seen a locker slammed shut once¡ªnot in anger, not for intimidation, not for emphasis. That was weird, right? It had to be weird. Normal wasn¡¯t supposed to look like this. Maybe she was just too used to horrible. Maybe she¡¯d warped herself into someone who couldn¡¯t trust good things when they came. But that thought didn¡¯t make her feel better, either. Was this what it was like to have money? She couldn¡¯t help but think, the blank line that was her mouth threatening a scowl. Maybe Brockton Bay only sucks if you¡¯re poor. The PRT had also made sure of that, too, if her brand-new clothes weren¡¯t obvious enough. A settlement for her trauma. Another for her silence. Add that to a boost in both her salary as a Ward and her trust, with said increases also applying to her future salary in the Protectorate and it meant that she had pretty much jumped several tax brackets. And she barely even knew what a tax bracket was. She sidestepped a group of laughing juniors, their voices carrying snippets of conversations¡ª¡°...he totally asked her out, but she said¡­¡± and ¡°¡­did you see his shoes? Like, bro...¡±¡ªand watched as they flowed past her like a wave around a rock. She blinked as a pale-skinned girl with curly dark hair and glasses passed her, and then another. For a second, her heart jumped before logic caught up, leaving Taylor feeling stupid as her expression darkened slightly. Still not used to that. She scanned the crowd, her eyes snagging on familiar patterns: pale-skinned girls with dark, curly hair. Tall, thin builds. Glasses. She¡¯d never realized how common her features were until it was basically thrust in her face the day her transfer was final, and now they were everywhere, a small scattered army of almost-Taylors blending into the throng. My own little camouflage. She didn¡¯t even have being the new girl to make her a novelty at her new school. No, Taylor Hebert had been mixed in with so many other similar girls just enough to be invisible. Part of her appreciated the effort for many reasons other than the most obvious of the fact that the PRT was just doing their job. The rest of her hated it¡ªhated the reminder that even her looks, her individuality was disposable, a cog swapped out for another just like it. She sighed, rolling her eyes at herself. ¡°Be grateful,¡± she muttered. ¡°You¡¯re not at Winslow anymore. No one here even knows who you are.¡± And wasn¡¯t that the problem? The people here were polite, sure. Even damn near friendly, in that surface-level, ¡°Oh, you¡¯re new here, how cool!¡± way. But they didn¡¯t know her. Not really. And they didn¡¯t really want to know her, she could tell, not with less than a month left in the school year and their own friend groups already formed. A month wasn¡¯t long enough to stop feeling like a placeholder, a ghost walking halls she wasn¡¯t even familiar enough to haunt. She clicked her tongue and started walking toward the bus stop. The crowd thinned as students started to peel off in groups, their voices fading into background noise. Her footsteps felt loud against the pavement, a steady beat beneath the chatter. She adjusted her grip on her backpack and let out a small sigh. The protection was good, obviously. Necessary. She knew that. But it made her feel like a placeholder¡ªa part of someone else¡¯s meticulously designed picture, rather than a person. She stepped over a stray flyer on the ground advertising the upcoming school dance, the words "Spring Spectacular!" printed in obnoxiously large letters, cheery as all hell. The edges of the paper were already curling, caught in the wake of passing feet. Even Arcadia¡¯s litter felt curated. Taylor rolled her eyes and moved on, weaving through a cluster of students gathered around a boy showing off a skateboard trick that ended in a loud crash and collective laughter. By the time she reached the sidewalk, the press of students had thinned, dispersing into clusters that trickled into cars or wandered off toward buses. Taylor glanced down the street, the shadows of buildings stretching long in the late afternoon sun. She could feel the weight of the day in her legs, a dull, dragging kind of tired that made her eager to sit, even if it was just for the bus ride home. Then she stopped. It wasn¡¯t a conscious choice. Her foot just froze, her body jerking slightly as her brain caught up to what her eyes had landed on. Her heart stuttered before picking up speed, like it had been shoved into high gear. Across the street, waving like they were old friends, stood Greg Veder. No. She blinked, her stomach doing something complicated¡ªlike it had dropped and turned over at the same time. She couldn¡¯t believe her eyes. And yet there he was. Behind him, a car honked, and Greg glanced back briefly with a raised eyebrow and a thumb pointed behind him that said ¡®get a load of this guy¡¯ before resuming his wave. Taylor¡¯s hands tightened on her backpack straps, her palms damp. Fuck. Her first instinct was to deny it as her brain scrambled for explanations. Coincidence? Hallucination? ¡°Maybe he¡¯s just¡­¡± she muttered to herself, face reddening, ¡°waving at someone behind me.¡± But no. His grin was aimed directly at her, wide and eager. What the hell is he doing here? Greg didn¡¯t go to Arcadia, didn¡¯t belong at Arcadia. Greg belonged to Winslow, to awkward jokes and thick arms and that irritating voice of his. He belonged to the life she was trying to leave behind. Hell, considering who his family was and the way he looked now, he belonged more to the life she had now than even she did. And wasn¡¯t that a bitch? Her stomach twisted as a bitter resentment bubbled up, hot and irrational, and she bit down on it hard. He¡¯s not doing anything wrong. He was just¡­ Greg. Which in a just world would have been a crime of its own. Smiling. Waving. Being his oblivious self. And she hated how much she didn¡¯t want him there. What did that say about her? Her fingers clenched the strap of her brand-new backpack as if squeezing it hard enough could snap her out of this. She could feel her pulse in her palms, fast and uneven. She should ignore him. Walk away. Pretend she hadn¡¯t seen him. Except she couldn¡¯t. Not because she cared what Greg thought, but because she knew Greg¡­ even this all-new different Greg. Ignoring him would just make him louder, more determined to get her attention. She imagined it; heads turning, eyes landing on her, her anonymity cracking wide open. Taylor let out a slow, steady breath and started moving again. Her steps were deliberate, measured, but her grip on her backpack strap stayed tight. Fine. She¡¯d say Hi. Be polite. Two minutes, tops. Then she¡¯d be done. She couldn¡¯t help but wince as Greg winked at her as she finally stepped off the sidewalk, the expression making her want to turtle into her hoodie. Fu- ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? ¡°-ck me, this is a good milkshake.¡± Greg set the glass down, licking away a little of the sugary dairy that had spilled from the blue straw. The taste of stale blended birthday cake lingered, sweet and synthetic in a way that stuck to the back of his throat. It was a good distraction¡ªa necessary one¡ªfrom the oddly silent part of his brain that had been circling itself since yesterday. Squirtin¡¯ Bessie¡¯s was lively enough for a Tuesday afternoon, the hum of conversation weaving through the clinks of glass on linoleum. The neon pink glow from the ¡°Udderly Delicious!¡± sign overhead buzzed faintly, a soft undercurrent to the chatter. A group of kids in the corner giggled over a sundae piled far too high with whipped cream and sprinkles, their fingers sticky and leaving smudges on the chrome edges of the table. Greg leaned back in his vinyl chair, shoulders sticking slightly to the red cushions as he shifted. It was an obnoxiously cheerful place. Bright, loud, and just a little too clean, like the kind of setting where a laugh track might suddenly kick in. A girl behind the dessert counter scooped ice cream into cones with the robotic ease of someone who¡¯d done this for far too long. The cow-print bow in her hair was crooked, and greg found himself wondering how many hours it had taken for her to stop re-tying it perfectly. He''d give it another week before it vanished entirely, lost to the entropy of retail. Across from him, Taylor stirred her milkshake with a straw, her expression carefully blank except for the telltale twitch of her fingers on her hoodie sleeve. It was subtle, but Greg had a talent for noticing the little things, even when he wasn¡¯t trying. Her fingers curled tighter around the fabric, pulling at the threads as if she could unravel the whole thing if she just fidgeted hard enough. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t curse,¡± She muttered, eyes darting to the group of toddlers near the window. One of them was licking the window, his tongue leaving a faint smear on the glass. Taylor''s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°There''s kids here.¡± ¡°Noted,¡± Greg said, nodding solemnly as he took another sip of his milkshake. He made a point to slurp loudly through the straw, dragging the sound out until she shot him a glare. He set the glass down and gestured vaguely around the parlor. ¡°Glad you could make it, Tay Tay.¡± Taylor froze mid-stir, her head snapping up so fast he half-expected her glasses to fly off. ¡°First of all, don¡¯t ever. Second, make what? You were outside the bus stop at Arcadia waiting for me as soon as school closed.¡± Greg shrugged, lifting the straw back to his mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t shrug at me,¡± Taylor continued, her voice sharpening. ¡°How were you even there? Winslow¡¯s like minimum an hour away from Arcadia by bus, at least. It takes me almost that long to get home.¡± He shrugged again, slower this time, just to emphasize the motion. The exaggerated purse of his lips around the straw was a cherry on top. ¡°What did I just say about shrugging?¡± Taylor hissed, leaning forward slightly, her hoodie¡¯s cuffs pooling around her hands as she gripped the edge of the table. Greg leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. He tilted his head, wagging his eyebrows with deliberate slowness.. ¡°Drink your shake, Tee-Tee.¡± Taylor blinked, her jaw tightening. ¡°What did I just say?¡± ¡°Not to shrug.¡± ¡°No! I mean¡ª¡± she groaned, visibly shrinking into her hoodie as a couple of nearby patrons glanced their way. Her voice dropped even further, barely audible. ¡°About the weird nicknames. Don¡¯t give people ideas.¡± Hisgrin widened as he leaned back, his chair squeaking faintly. He raised his eyebrows again, this time with a little bounce for emphasis. ¡°About w~what exactly, Tee Bert?¡± Taylor groaned, dragging her oversized sleeve over her face. ¡°Oh my god, I must have done something horrible. Like killed a baby in a past life. That¡¯s the only thing that makes sense. This must be my punishment.¡± This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°...I¡¯m right here, you know,¡± Greg replied, pressing a hand to his chest. ¡°I have feelings.¡± Taylor raised her head a little, just enough to glare at him from behind her glasses, her expression flat. ¡°Do you actually?¡± Greg felt his smile blank for a moment, his eyes losing a bit of their shine. He leaned back slightly, spreading his arms with exaggerated nonchalance. ¡°No. I¡¯m a stone cold killer. Can¡¯t you tell?¡± The words came out smoothly and calmly, a bit off from the slight whine that he put into the last thing he had said, but he honestly couldn¡¯t help it. He was being entirely honest on this one, even though he didn¡¯t know exactly why. For a moment, Greg¡¯s gaze lingered on the tabletop. He traced a finger along the chrome edge, feeling the cool metal beneath his skin as the hum of the milkshake machine filled the silence. Across the room, the waitress in the checkered blue dress leaned over a table, her cowbell choker jingling faintly as she delivered a tray of milkshakes. The smell of vanilla and sugar mixed with the faint metallic tang of freshly wiped chrome counters, grounding Greg in the present. Maybe it was just because he had to tell somebody. Anybody. And it wasn¡¯t like Taylor would believe him no matter how he said it. Hey, Tay, I sent five killer capes right to the gates of Hell, first class. Telling Sparky? Well, that would be spitting right in his face. His friend was trying so hard to keep him on some imaginary line, and Greg wasn¡¯t exactly helping. I mean, the blond allowed, I didn¡¯t exactly break his rules this time, at least. I used exactly as much force as I needed and no one died that wasn¡¯t supposed to. He raised an eyebrow, still silent as the girl sitting on the other side of the table tilted her head to the side and stared at him curiously through her glasses. Yeah, that¡¯s gonna hold up in court. He allowed himself a snort. Taylor¡¯s voice cut through his internal spiral. ¡°I¡­ I don''t really get your jokes sometimes.¡± Greg snapped back to the present, forcing his grin wider as he leaned forward. ¡°Yeah, me neither.¡± Taylor rolled her eyes, her expression softening as she took another sip of her milkshake. Bessie¡¯s winking face stared back at him from his glass, her cartoon cow lips puckered in mock flirtation. Greg glanced at the menu on the table, the same smirking logo etched onto the back, and let out a soft laugh. Taylor raised an eyebrow. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± He picked up his glass and took another sip, the sugary sweetness settling on his tongue. ¡°Just thinking about how weird this place is.¡± Taylor glanced around, her gaze lingering on the framed poster of Bessie lounging on a hay bale. ¡°Yeah,¡± she said slowly, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ a lot.¡± Greg chuckled, the sound low and genuine as he gestured toward the counter. ¡°Bet you five bucks the girl behind the counter hates that bow.¡± Taylor glanced over, watching as the girl in the cow-print bow scooped another round of ice cream into a sundae dish. Her expression was a blank smile, her movements belonging to some sort of world-class animatronic. ¡°I¡¯m not taking that bet.¡± ¡°Smart,¡± Greg said, leaning back again. The vinyl chair squeaked under his weight, and he let the sound hang for a beat before adding, ¡°I always win.¡± Taylor didn¡¯t respond immediately, her gaze flicking back to him as she stirred her milkshake again. ¡°Is that so?¡± Greg shot her a lopsided grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. ¡°Yep. Stone cold killer, remember?¡± Taylor rolled her eyes again, but this time, the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She shook her head and took another sip from her straw, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across her face. ¡°So what¡¯s Arcadia like?¡± Greg asked, leaning forward slightly with his elbows propped on the table. ¡°How¡¯s the school for the rich and Glory Girls of the world?¡± Taylor stirred her milkshake absently with her straw, watching the whipped cream swirl into the chocolate. ¡°Well¡­ uh¡­ you know, it¡¯s¡­ nice.¡± Her voice carried the kind of awkward hesitation Greg was too familiar with, every word weighted like she had to measure them out carefully. ¡°Nice?¡± he prompted, keeping his tone light, even teasing. ¡°That¡¯s it? Come on, Tay-Tay, give me something to work with.¡± Taylor shot him a half-hearted glare, her lips twitching like she wanted to smile but couldn¡¯t quite manage it. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ nice, okay? I¡¯ve made some friends. They¡¯re nice. But, uh¡­ I¡¯m still settling in, I guess. It¡¯s not crazy¡­ right? I showed up a month ago and only¡­ two weeks left of school, you know? ¡± Greg nodded slowly, watching her eyes flit down to her milkshake, her fingers tapping idly against the glass. She wasn¡¯t lying exactly¡ªat least, not exactly¡ªbut there was enough hedging in her tone to make it clear she didn¡¯t want to talk about it. ¡°Cool,¡± he said finally, leaning back in his chair with a deliberate squeak of vinyl. ¡°Nice is¡­ well, nice.¡± Taylor gave him a look, her expression unreadable, and fell silent. The hum of the milkshake machine buzzed faintly in the background, blending with the low murmur of the parlor. Greg shifted in his seat, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the chrome edge of the table. The silence stretched, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, ¡°I¡­ uh¡­ I went to see¡­ uh, Emma yesterday.¡± Taylor¡¯s gaze snapped up, her body tensing like she¡¯d been caught off guard. She wasn¡¯t scared, exactly, but there was a sharpness in her posture, like a hyena catching sight of a lioness. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Greg said, scratching the back of his head. He hated how his voice wavered, hated how she could still make him nervous without even trying. ¡°Uh¡­ she called me after I left your place. Right after, actually.¡± Taylor tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Huh.¡± Greg fiddled with his straw, spinning it slowly between his fingers. ¡°I think you¡­ you were right.¡± Taylor didn¡¯t relax, her posture still stiff. ¡°¡­About?¡± ¡°Emma might be a bitch,¡± Greg admitted, his tone dry. Taylor¡¯s eyes went wide behind her glasses, and Greg could practically see the gears turning in her head. Then came the snort¡ªsharp, quick, and utterly unintentional. He savored the sound like a rare loot drop, his grin creeping wider as she tried and failed to smother the laugh that followed. ¡°That is a strong might, you know?¡± She managed between laughs, her words lighter, less sharp. Even her shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension she carried like armor. Greg leaned back, letting his chair squeak in protest. His laugh came easier now, following hers like it was on cue. "I know, I know. It''s just¡­" He paused, licking his lips. Why was this question so hard to say out loud? It wasn''t like Taylor was going to roast him over it. "Does¡­ does it make me a bad person if I wish she wasn''t a bitch so I could still like her?" The question hung in the air for a beat too long, long enough for Greg to feel the prickling unease of second-guessing himself. But then Taylor''s gaze softened, her brow furrowing slightly. She didn''t snap back at him with some deflection. She just¡­ looked at him. "I guess you''d have to call me a bad person too," She said, her voice quieter than usual. Greg blinked, caught off guard by her answer. It wasn''t what he expected, and he couldn''t tell if it made him feel better or worse. But the corners of his mouth curved upward despite himself, his default setting when things got weird. "Wow, way to bring the mood down, Hebert." Taylor''s jaw dropped, her glare sharp but edged with something playful. "What? Me? You brought the bitch up." "You made it worse, you negative Nancy," He shot back, his grin taking over his face. The words felt automatic, almost like muscle memory. Banter was a language he spoke fluently. "Shaddup," Taylor sighed, shaking her head with exasperation, but there it was¡ªthat faint, barely-there smile tugging at her lips. Greg felt like he''d won something, though he wasn''t sure what. "As you wish," He replied with a mock bow of his head, the phrase rolling off his tongue before he even registered saying it. Taylor froze for half a second, her brow lifting slightly as she watched him, and Greg could feel the air shift, at the exact same moment he felt something niggling at the back of his mind. Something in the way she looked at him, though he couldn''t put his finger on it. He tilted his head, blinking, but Taylor had already leaned back, her expression smoothing out again. Something was off¡­ "So¡­ how''s Winslow?" Her voice broke the tension. Greg blinked at the question, his arms crossing lazily over his chest as he forgot what he was just thinking about. ¡°Well, I wish I could say nothing¡¯s different, but that¡¯d just be a lie.¡± "What?" Taylor asked, her confusion tilting her head slightly. He let out a theatrical sigh, throwing in just the right amount of melodrama. "Yeah, without you, it''s just¡­" He trailed off, his face shifting into a mock-grim expression, letting the silence drag for effect. "...not the same." Taylor''s stare hardened into something flat, unimpressed. "What." Greg grinned, sly and sharp. "No more color in the halls. No joy in class. I''ve been skipping because it''s just not worth it." Her response was a long-suffering rub of her temple. "I swear to God¡­" "No, I''ve tried praying too," Greg interrupted smoothly, raising his hand as if to swear an oath. "Doesn''t make up for no pretty girl sitting next to me in Mr. Gladly''s class." He delivered the line with his best poker face, but Taylor''s reaction wasn''t what he expected. She didn''t roll her eyes or fire back immediately. Instead, her expression shifted subtly, her glare narrowing but carrying an edge of something else¡ªsomething more focused. It felt like she was studying him, dissecting him in her head. "What did I say about the flirting?" Taylor finally asked, her voice sharper than before, but it wasn''t cutting. More¡­ annoyed. Like a teacher dealing with a student who wasn''t paying attention. "I didn''t know the truth was flirting," Greg said, plastering on an exaggeratedly innocent look. Taylor leaned forward slightly, her glasses catching the light as her eyes narrowed further. "What if I walk out of here right now?" Greg shrugged, gesturing toward her milkshake. "I''ll drink your milkshake." The challenge in her stare deepened as she wrapped her arms protectively around her glass, pulling it closer. "Stick to your garbage." Greg''s smile widened into a full-faced grin as the blond tipped his imaginary hat. "Attagirl." Taylor rolled her eyes, but Greg knew she wasn''t really annoyed. It was a show, the kind of performative reaction people gave when they couldn''t decide if they were exasperated or just mildly entertained. Her milkshake straw made a soft sucking sound as she took a long sip, the frost on the glass smearing under her fingers. Greg stirred his own milkshake absentmindedly, watching the sprinkles swirl into the mix like tiny, multicolored whirlpools. It was a birthday cake flavor¡ªbasically dessert pretending to be dessert. Perfect. "But yeah, I mean¡­" He started, letting the words drag as he tilted the straw back and forth. "Winslow''s Winslow. Everybody''s a dick of various shapes and sizes." Taylor raised her eyebrow over the rim of her glass. "Wow. Gross." Greg grinned, leaning into the theatrics. "I''d say the other word, but I''m a good boy." Her expression didn''t shift, except for a slight narrowing of her eyes. "Mmm." "Speaking of dicks¡­" Greg continued, pausing just long enough to enjoy her exasperated sigh. "Were we, though?" She asked, cutting him off with just enough sarcasm to make his grin widen. He ignored her interruption, tapping his spoon lightly against the table for effect. "Haven''t seen Sophia since school started back up," He said, his tone almost conversational. "She''s not dead or in the hospital as far as anyone can tell, but no one knows where she is. Weird, right?" Taylor stiffened, just slightly, but Greg caught it. Her hand on her spoon clenched a little tighter, her shoulders going just a little straighter. It wasn''t much¡ªjust a flicker of something before she covered it up¡ªbut Greg noticed. He always noticed. "Yeah," She said lightly, her voice perfectly even. "Weird." His eyes narrowed slightly, his brain catching on the way her tone didn''t quite match the grip she still had on her spoon. Huh. Maybe it was nothing. Sophia wasn''t exactly a happy subject for a lot of people, and Taylor had more reasons than most to find the topic unpleasant. "Maybe she finally pissed off the wrong person," He added, smirking. "Karma or something." Taylor''s gaze flicked to his for just a second before dropping back to her milkshake. "Sure," She said, the word clipped and neutral. Greg frowned, trying to figure out if it was just awkwardness or something else. The tension in her hand hadn''t gone away, though. Okay, new topic. "Taylor," He started, his tone shifting to something a little more serious. "Can I ask you a question?" Her eyes narrowed instantly, her suspicion clear as day. "If it''s to kiss me again, I swear to God¡­" Greg held up a hand, his expression solemn. "No, I''m being real right now." Taylor''s gaze lingered on him, still clearly skeptical, but after a moment she sighed and shrugged. "¡­Okay, go ahead." He leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as he gestured for her to do the same. For a second, she hesitated, her eyes flicking to the other tables around them before she finally leaned in. Her movements were careful, almost too careful, and Greg noticed the way her shoulders stayed tense. When she was close enough that their heads were almost touching, Greg whispered, "...Did you kill Sophia Hess?" Taylor''s reaction was immediate. She jerked back with a groan, one hand dragging across her face as Greg leaned back in his chair, letting out a snorting cackle loud enough to turn a few heads in the diner. It wasn''t subtle, but then, that was the point. "Are you ever gonna give up the bit?" She asked, voice dry as she glared at him over the rim of her milkshake glass. Greg blinked, his laughter fading just enough for that odd itch at the back of his brain to resurface. Her glare wasn''t just annoyed¡ªit was¡­ something else. Something sharper. The thought slipped away before he could grab it, though, and he shrugged, forcing his grin back into place. "What bit?" "The whole ''Greg Veder, class clown'' thing," Taylor said, her voice steady but not unkind. Her tone shifted just enough to make him pause, though, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second. "Do you ever turn it off? It''s a lot funnier than Greg Veder, video game nerd, I''ll admit." Greg leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, letting his grin stretch just enough to be cocky but not obnoxious. Well, maybe a little obnoxious. "Careful, T-Hizzle," He said, his voice low, "you said no flirting." Taylor rolled her eyes so hard he half-expected her glasses to fall off. She didn''t respond, though, just shook her head and went back to her milkshake, her expression vaguely unimpressed but not exactly annoyed either. He watched her carefully, his fingers idly spinning the straw in his drink. Was she smiling? No, not quite. But the corner of her mouth twitched, didn''t it? Yeah, she was holding something back. She thinks I''m funny¡­ wait, I already knew that. Greg leaned back, his vinyl seat squeaking faintly as he let the silence linger just long enough to be awkward. Taylor''s sharp brown eyes weren''t quite on him, though. They had this faraway focus, like she was halfway out of the conversation and halfway in some deep thought he couldn''t see. It was unsettling in a way, like she was looking through him and at him at the same time. He wondered what was going on in her head, what her version of this moment looked like. "You know," Greg said finally, breaking the quiet deliberately, "if I ever do give up this bit, you''re gonna miss it." Her eyebrow arched in perfect disbelief as she gave him a look so flat it might as well have been asphalt. "Oh, yeah. I''ll be devastated." He smirked, stirring his milkshake with the straw like he was conducting an orchestra. "You say that now, but what happens when you''re sitting here all alone, wondering where all the joy in your life went? Who''s gonna spice up your boring-ass milkshake runs then, huh?" Taylor tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting into something he wasn¡¯t really sure how to decipher. Then she shrugged, her tone so dry it could''ve started a fire. "Probably someone who doesn''t ask if I''ve murdered people." The words landed with that perfect mix of snark and deflection that he didn''t entirely expect, but before he could react, there it was¡ªthe faintest twitch at the corner of her lips. A near-smile, barely there but impossible to miss. Triumph flared in his chest. Another one on the board for Veder. "Fair point," He conceded, leaning back again and twirling his straw. The motion felt automatic, almost meditative. "But let''s be honest¡ªno one does it quite like me." She rolled her eyes again, but this time, her lips twitched upward for another half- second before she hid it behind her milkshake. He felt another flicker of victory, but it was short-lived. Her focus shifted back to the table, her fingers absently tracing the frosted glass, and something about her body language felt¡­ different. He couldn''t pin it down exactly, but she wasn''t just here. "Sophia, huh," Greg said abruptly, the words slipping out before he could think better of it. The reaction was subtle, but Greg caught it. Taylor''s posture shifted, just barely¡ªher grip on the milkshake tightened for half a second before relaxing again. If he hadn''t been watching her so closely, he might''ve missed it. "Weird how no one knows where she went," He continued casually, swirling his milkshake like he wasn''t paying attention. Maybe this¡¯ll get her attention again. "You''d think there''d be rumors or something, right? Like, somebody has to know what happened." "Maybe she''s just laying low," Taylor said, her voice carefully neutral. Too neutral. "People disappear all the time." Greg squinted slightly, not at her but at the words. There was something under that statement, but it was buried deep, wrapped in layers of casual dismissal. He wanted to poke at it, but he didn''t. For now. Instead, he leaned forward with a grin. "Okay, but if she did disappear, you have to admit it''s kinda poetic. Without you, Sophia just melts like the Wicked Witch of the East." "West," Taylor corrected instantly, her voice sharper than he expected. "The Wicked Witch of the West melted. East got a house dropped on her." Greg blinked, caught off guard by the automatic response. "Okay, Dorothy," He said, smirking as he tried to recover. She let out a soft snort, shaking her head. "You''re impossible." "Nah, I''m Greg," He said, flashing her his best grin. "Impossible''s my middle name, though. Fun fact." Taylor sighed, her hand coming up to rest against her chin as she gave him a look that was half-exasperation, half-amusement. "Why do I even talk to you?" Greg straightened up, leveling her with an exaggeratedly wounded look. "Because I''m charming," He said, draping an invisible cloak of smugness over himself, "And also, you secretly find me hilarious." "I don''t," Taylor shot back, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her. It wasn''t much, just the barest flicker of amusement slipping past her defenses. The kind that someone like Greg would notice immediately. Gotcha. He let out an overly dramatic gasp, clutching at his chest like the world''s cheesiest soap opera star. "You wound me, Taylor Hebert. Truly, I am but a shell of a man now." For a second, her smile faltered, dropped like she wasn''t sure if she''d let it slip too far. Then it came back, shaky but brighter, almost like she was forcing it into place. She ducked her head and took a sip of her milkshake, her straw absent-mindedly forgotten as the glass made a soft clink against her teeth. Greg watched her closely, the small shift in her demeanor catching his attention. Something was going on behind those glasses, some kind of gears turning. Maybe she was thinking about the joke. Or maybe something else entirely. He leaned back in his chair, letting the vinyl creak under his weight. "You really love that milkshake, huh?" Her response came so naturally, so casually, it almost didn''t register at first. "Yeah, you know, chocolate''s a girl''s best friend, right?" Greg froze. It wasn''t an obvious kind of freeze¡ªno sharp intake of breath or dramatic pause, just a subtle shift. His grip on his straw loosened, his brain stuttering for a fraction of a second. There was something about that line, something that rang a little too familiar. Huh¡­ Where had he heard it before? "Wait," He said, his voice slower, almost tentative as the words formed. "Isn''t that diamonds?" Taylor blinked at him, her head tilting just slightly to the side. "What?" Greg scrambled, his thoughts tripping over themselves in their rush to explain. "You know," He said, forcing a chuckle that sounded almost real, "Diamonds. Like the saying. ''Diamonds are a girl''s best friend.'' Classic line, right? Marilyn Monroe, or¡­ or something." Her squint was subtle but pointed, her gaze narrowing just enough to feel like it was cutting through him. She didn''t answer right away, letting the silence hang just long enough to make him squirm a little. Then, finally, she shrugged, the movement sharp and contained. "Sure. Whatever you say." She turned back to her milkshake, her expression unreadable, but Greg couldn''t shake the nagging weight in his chest. The line¡ªit wasn''t just the words, it was the way she''d said it. The exact cadence, the easy throwaway tone. It sparked something at the back of his mind, an itch he couldn''t quite reach. He blinked at her, his gaze lingering on the dark waves of her hair. They framed her face in a way that felt suddenly¡­ off. No¡­ not off. Familiar. Familiar in a way that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. No. No. No! That was ridiculous, right? ¡­Right? Introspections V The glass stretched from floor to ceiling, a monolithic windowpane framing Brockton Bay like a museum exhibit. Theo analyzed his reflection: a pale smear against urban decay, the mana field rippling around him in precise geometries. Silver eyes tracked motion patterns below¡ªpedestrians flowing like particles in a fluid dynamics simulation, each trajectory predictable, mappable. He traced the flow of power through his body, a quiet exercise in control. Mana pooled in his core, responsive but contained, like mercury under glass. Two weeks of practice had taught him the value of restraint. Point five percent leak rate per minute. Acceptable. Sustainable. For now. The position was calculated¡ªspine straight (vertebral alignment optimal), shoulders squared (scapular tension distributed evenly), stance wide enough for stability but not aggression (center of mass perfectly aligned). One week and four days of practice had taught him the value of precision. Numbers as armor. Data as shield. The equations helped steady him, gave structure to the raw potential of the blue humming beneath his skin. Even his mass¡ªa point of shame before¡ªnow registered merely as a variable in his personal force equations. Fascinating how perception altered reality: fat cells that once drew mockery now served as excellent mana insulators, their high lipid content perfect for allowing him some enhanced control, even as his body rapidly burned through them. From this height, the docks looked almost tranquil¡ªcranes frozen mid-motion, the water cutting black veins into rusted skeletons. A grid of decay and commerce, laid out with deceptive simplicity. The illusion of order. Theo knew better. The same way he knew the precise moment his father would¡ª "...and Greg? How''s the boy been?" His father''s voice struck the air like a tuning fork, each syllable precision-engineered to provoke response. Theo heard them: micro-variations in tone suggesting calculated interest masking genuine disdain. A performance, Theo cataloged, adding the data point. He barely tolerates me. The man treated conversation like combat, every other crafted sentence a thrust seeking weakness. Maximum efficiency dictated playing along, but something in him¡ªperhaps that spark of teenage rebellion Greg kept encouraging¡ªsuggested a different approach. "Fine," he replied, voice modulated to just a fraction below his father''s volume. The monosyllable hung in the air, its deliberate inadequacy a tiny revolution. Through the glass, he tracked his father''s reflection, calculating the precise moment irritation would overcome control. Three. Two. One. "Fine," Max repeated, the word dripping with disdain as he leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked¡ªexpensive, Italian, a sound designed to draw attention like everything else in this office. Theo didn''t need to look to see his father''s expression¡ªa faint smirk, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening with condescension. The reflection in the glass provided enough data: sixty-degree head tilt, right hand drumming a precise rhythm on the armrest. "Is that your assessment, or just a lack of effort to think critically?" Theo''s silver eyes flicked to the docks, tracing the jagged geometry of the waterfront. Derelict ships dotted the harbor like toys abandoned by a careless giant, shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. The weight of his father''s gaze pressed against his back, but he refused to turn. He couldn''t afford to let the man see the disgust simmering beneath his practiced indifference. Control the variables. Maintain the equation. A crane swung into motion below, breaking the stillness. The movement drew his attention, a welcome distraction from the psychological chess match playing out behind him. Greg. Sparky. Theo thought of the two boys¡ªhis godbrother''s unrelenting energy, bouncing between topics like a rubber ball in a vacuum chamber, Sparky''s acerbic wit cutting through pretense as easy as breathing. They''d become constants in his life, grounding him in a way he hadn''t expected. But they didn''t know. Couldn''t know. The Empire''s shadow loomed over every interaction, a dark variable he hated but couldn''t eliminate from the equation. How do you tell your friends the truth when the truth could destroy them? The thought tasted bitter, like copper and failure. Sparky, his train of thought shifted. The other boy was interesting, in comparison to himself. His powers, though purely physical, were simplistic in ways Theo envied somewhat. But, in truth, the chubby boy would rather have his fingernails removed than ever give up mana. Strange, Theo thought, how natural the word "mana" had started to feel in his vocabulary. Greg had said it casually, like someone naming an old friend, and Sparky had followed suit with his usual mix of sarcasm and conviction. Theo had rolled his eyes at first, silently debating the semantic accuracy of it all. The term felt primitive, almost childish¡ªlike naming a complex mathematical principle after a cartoon character. He''d spent hours constructing alternative taxonomies, each more precise than the last. Energy manipulation. Matter resonance. But in the end, he couldn''t deny the evidence. The equations balanced, the patterns resolved. Mana existed. He traced the curve of a crane''s rusted arm far below, cataloging the molecular structure through his enhanced perception. The metal sang to him¡ªa symphony of stress points and material fatigue, crystalline structures degrading in precise patterns. The word still felt a bit foreign on his tongue, but the concept had become as natural as breathing. Every object, every person, every breath felt interconnected in ways Theo couldn''t unsee now. The air itself pulsed with potential, a lattice of invisible forces waiting to be reshaped. A gull wheeled past the window, and Theo tracked its trajectory without thinking. Mass: approximately 1.2 kilograms. Velocity: 12 meters per second. Mana signature: negligible but present. He still wasn''t entirely sure how the term fit into the broader taxonomy of parahuman abilities, but it didn''t matter. It worked. And wasn''t that what mattered most? There was something oddly satisfying about it¡ªlike finding a perfectly shaped puzzle piece in a chaos of mismatched edges. The energy responded to his will with mathematical precision, yet required no conscious calculation. Mana bent to intent like water over stone. Effortless. Instinctual. Theo found himself marveling at its elegance¡ªhow the invisible threads tied everything together, how a single shift in pressure could reshape the flow. Complexities reduced to intuition, like a savant solving equations without understanding the underlying math. It was better than any equation, cleaner than any calculation. No messy variables, no error margins to account for. Control made tangible. Pure intent translated directly into effect, bypassing the crude mechanics of physical interaction. A part of him found it ironic, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly at the thought. The Protectorate cape Myrddin, with his staff and robes and ridiculous theatrics, had always been a joke to Theo¡ªa man playing wizard in a world of science and logic. The cape''s proclamations about magic had seemed delusional at best, an embarrassing affectation at worst. But now, sensing mana flow through the world like currents in an invisible sea, Theo wondered if Myrddin had the last laugh. Perhaps the joke was on him. The thought settled uncomfortably in his mind, challenging years of carefully constructed assumptions. "It''s been... educational," Theo said finally, picking his words as carefully as his father picked his suits. Each syllable measured, weighted for maximum impact with minimum revelation. "Greg is... direct. Different from what I''m used to." The understatement felt like armor, deflecting the sharp edges of Max''s attention. Behind him, his father exhaled sharply, a sound of faint amusement that carried more condemnation than any outright criticism. Theo could hear the faint rustle of papers, the deliberate shuffle of work being handled with machinelike efficiency. The sounds painted a picture: Max seated at his mahogany desk, documents arranged in perfect right angles, every movement a performance of power and control. "Direct," Max echoed, as if the word were a slur. His tone carried decades of cultivated superiority, sharp enough to cut. "Well, I suppose that''s a kind way of putting it. His father was the same. A loud brute who thought force alone could solve any problem. Charming in its own way, I suppose, but ultimately useless. No subtlety. No vision." The words fell like precise knife strikes, each one calculated to wound. Theo clenched his jaw. His reflection flickered in the glass as he shifted his weight, the tension in his posture betraying his calm facade. The mana around him rippled in response to his agitation, a microscopic disturbance in the field that he quickly suppressed. He knew what Max was doing. Greg wasn''t just his godbrother¡ªhe was the specter of Rowan Veder, the man Max had once called a friend. Max had built an empire, while Rowan had settled for brawls and bravado, and was liked more despite it all. The stark contrast defined their paths: one man ascending to corporate heights while maintaining a facade of respectability, the other content with simple pleasures and dishonest relationships. Greg, Theo knew, was a constant reminder of that gap. And Max hated reminders. "You spend enough time with someone like that," Max continued, his tone light, almost conversational. The shift in his voice carried practiced charm, the kind that had won over board rooms and bought silence. Through the glass, Theo watched his father''s reflection adjust his platinum cufflinks¡ªa habitual gesture that preceded his most cutting observations. "And you start to see the limits of brute strength and bluster. Useful in a crisis, sure. But as a foundation? It crumbles under pressure. The same way his father did." The words sliced through the air with surgical precision. Theo felt the mana inside him shift, responding to the tension building in his core. Power spike: 0.02%. Negligible. Contained. He focused on the numbers, letting them anchor him against the rising tide of irritation. "Greg''s not his father," Theo said quietly. The statement emerged perfectly neutral, each word stripped of emotional weight through careful calibration. It wasn''t a defense, not really. Just an observation. But it hung in the air, heavier than he''d intended. The afternoon sun caught his silver eyes in the reflection, making them flash like mercury. Greg wasn''t his father, and that was precisely why Theo trusted him. Rowan Veder had been a hammer, loud and unsubtle, smashing through problems with raw strength. Greg, for all his bravado, carried a spark of creativity his father had lacked¡ªa willingness to think around corners instead of charging straight through them. Sparky too. Theo smirked faintly at the thought, the expression barely visible in his reflection. Sparky, with his biting wit and pragmatic streak, balanced Greg''s raw pure energy in a way that felt... inevitable. Like the two of them had been crafted as counterweights. Chaos and control. And Theo? He was the fulcrum. The pivot point. They balanced him in ways his father could never understand. Greg''s raw creativity sparked new pathways in Theo''s mathematical framework, while Sparky''s cynical pragmatism grounded their experiments in reality. Together, they formed a kind of human Euler diagram - three distinct approaches overlapping to create something greater than their parts. His place in the group served specifically by providing another focus for Sparky to vent his frustrations, adjusting the tension between him and Greg, while Greg looked to him as a new wall to bounce ideas off. The equation was elegant in its simplicity: Greg + Sparky + Theo = Stability. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The air conditioning hummed, a steady undertone to the subtle power plays unfolding in the office. They didn''t know about Theo''s plans. Not yet. But they didn''t need to. The thought settled like a weight in his chest, heavy but necessary. Max hummed, a low, contemplative sound that Theo had learned to hate. The noise carried years of condescension, wrapped in a veneer of paternal concern. "No. He''s not," Max said at last, the words trailing off like an afterthought. Theo could hear the faint click of a pen tapping against glass¡ªa subtle signal of his father''s impatience. The rhythm matched the building''s security patrol schedule: three taps, pause, two taps. Always counting, always measuring. "And Susan? How''s she managing?" "Fine," Theo said again, his voice a shade sharper this time. The syllable escaped before he could fully neutralize its edge. He regretted it instantly. "Fine," Max repeated, slower, the syllable stretched into a blade. Each second of silence that followed was precisely calculated for maximum psychological impact. "It''s funny how often you use that word, Theodor. As if it''s a shield. Something to hide behind. Is it because you''re afraid I''ll notice if you say something real?" Max''s questions grated against Theo''s thoughts like sandpaper, each one designed to strip away layers of defense. The mana currents around him swirled with barely contained agitation. He didn''t need to be here. His time could''ve been spent refining the force-spell Greg had shown him or experimenting with the strange way his own mana seemed to refract through the air¡ªa phenomenon that suggested fascinating implications about the nature of parahuman abilities. But no, here he stood, absorbing Max''s condescension like a sponge. All part of the plan. Every second he spent under his father''s gaze was calculated, the same way he calculated the efficiency of a spell. An optimal input for maximum gain. The city stretched out below, a testament to similar calculations¡ªevery building, every transaction, every power play carefully measured and executed. There was no other way to play this game, not with someone like Max. So Theo listened, nodded, and waited for the man''s expectations to align with his own designs. His fingers tightened behind his back, knuckles pressing white against his palms. He forced himself to breathe, slow and measured. The man saw only tools and weaknesses, never people. The realization crystallized in Theo''s mind with mathematical certainty, each interaction a data point in an undeniable pattern. The mana currents around Max carried a signature Theo had learned to recognize¡ªsharp angles and rigid geometries, lacking the organic flow that characterized most living things. "I''ll keep that in mind," Theo said finally, his tone so neutral it was almost acidic. The words emerged perfectly calibrated, each syllable stripped of emotion through careful modulation. The mana field around him remained steady, betraying none of the calculations running beneath the surface. His weight shifted, carefully distributed to maintain the precise posture his father often demanded. Max chuckled softly, the sound as hollow as the city''s abandoned warehouses. Theo''s enhanced senses picked up the subtle artificiality in the laugh¡ªa practiced performance, like everything else. "Do that," he said, the words punctuated by the sharp snap of a file closing. "You might learn something." The leather chair creaked as he shifted, a sound engineered to project authority. Theo turned his head just enough to catch his father in the corner of his vision, analyzing the scene with detached precision. Max was hunched slightly over his desk, the sleek surface littered with neatly stacked papers and a single glass of water. His movements were precise, almost robotic, as he sorted through his work. His father''s movements were precise¡ªtoo precise, Theo realized, a machine compensating for worn gears. The flex of Max''s fingers, a faint hitch in his otherwise flawless rhythm, betrayed a man more fragile than he wanted the world to see. Micro-expressions flickered across his face: tension at the corners of his eyes, a barely perceptible tremor in his right hand. Max Anders, who cultivated an image of unshakable control, was riddled with cracks. And Theo cataloged each one, mapping them like stress fractures in a failing support beam. A younger him would''ve missed it. The thought carried no emotion, just clinical certainty. Even six months ago, he might''ve written it off as an anomaly, lacking the framework to process what he observed. But now, the patterns were as clear as the lines on a graph. Efficient. Methodical. Weak. The thought startled Theo. Weakness wasn''t a word he''d have associated with his father before. But now, as he watched Max shift through the detritus of his empire, he saw it in every action. The way the man leaned too heavily on his systems, his subordinates. The way he dismissed anything he couldn''t immediately control. The cracks were small, but Theo could see them. And they disgusted him. "You''ll be spending more time with Greg," Max said abruptly, his tone signaling the conversation''s end. A steel knife gleamed on his desk as he aligned it precisely parallel to the edge. "There''s value in... learning to deal with simpler minds. It sharpens your own." Each word carried the weight of command, expecting no resistance. Theo didn''t respond. He turned back to the window, letting the city''s fractured skyline fill his vision. The docks stretched out below, a maze of containers and cranes that pulsed with potential energy. The empire''s king, blind to the very foundations of his throne. The irony tasted like copper in Theo''s mouth. "Understood," Theo said finally, his voice as still and cold as the glass before him. The word hung in the air like frost, perfectly formed and utterly empty. If Max wanted him to be an heir, fine. He would learn everything Max had to teach, absorb every lesson, not as a son but as an apprentice studying the flaws of his master. The mana around him hummed with contained purpose, responding to the crystallization of his resolve. Behind him, Max muttered something inaudible and returned to his work, the scratch of his pen marking time. But Theo''s focus was elsewhere¡ªon the docks, on Greg, on Sparky. On the cracks he''d seen in his father''s armor. Small cracks. But enough. Those cracks were not unique to him alone. His father''s empire was built on fear and obedience, on loyalty that was only skin-deep. Theo could see it now, clearer than ever. The weight of Max''s expectations pressed down on his subordinates like gravity, and gravity, Theo knew, was a force that could be manipulated. All it took was the right angle, the right leverage, and the whole system could collapse. Mana worked the same way. A simple change in pressure, a slight adjustment in flow, and what seemed solid could shatter like glass. Theo''s experiments had taught him that much. Taught him enough to start breaking things apart. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Max Anders rose with the practiced ease of someone who understood the power of stillness, each movement a carefully choreographed display of dominance. His reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window caught the afternoon light: Italian wool suit (Kiton K-50, charcoal, $21,000) cut to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders without appearing ostentatious. The fabric whispered against itself¡ªa thousand-dollar symphony of controlled power. Beside him, the unaesthetic form of his son shifted, and Max''s attention snapped to the motion with predatory focus. The boy''s movements carried new weight, each gesture precise, controlled. Gone was the nervous energy, the desperate attempt to disappear into the background like prey sensing apex predators. Instead: stillness. Calculation. Purpose. Fascinating. Max cataloged the changes with a careful eye: spine straightened to optimal posture, hands clasped with military precision, gaze steady with an unflinching calm that bordered on insubordination. A transformation that would have been impressive if it weren''t so potentially problematic. The boy was learning¡ªbut was he learning the right lessons? Or merely perfecting the art of camouflage? The thought settled like a splinter in Max''s mind, irritating yet useful. After all, hadn''t he done the same, all those years ago? Hadn''t he learned to wear compliance like a second skin, right until the moment he''d taken control? Theo stood in stark contrast to the boy he''d been weeks ago, the one who slouched and avoided eye contact as though the act itself might summon judgment. There was judgment now, of course. Always. The weight of expectation hung in the air between them, thick as smoke. But Theodor no longer seemed afraid of it. The realization settled in Max''s mind like a newly placed chess piece, its implications radiating outward across the board. Interesting. "Theodor," Max began, his voice smooth, its deep timbre filling the room with practiced ease. He pitched the word precisely, letting it resonate off the glass and steel that surrounded them. He made no attempt to soften its edge. The boy needed to hear every syllable, every nuance. This was instruction, after all. "What do you see, son?" he asked, finally. ¡°Tell me.¡± The question was simple, deceptively so, a test disguised as curiosity. Max watched as Theo''s gaze shifted to the window, eyes narrowing slightly as he focused in thought. The faint tightening of his jaw, the knowing way his gaze swept the skyline¡ªit was deliberate. He''s learned to wear masks. "A city in decline," Theo said finally. His tone was low, even, but there was a precision to it that Max hadn''t heard before. Each word emerged fully formed, considered. "A system... stretched thin." A pause. Calculated, Max noted. The boy was choosing his words with care, weighing each one before releasing it into the space between them. The silence itself became a tool, wielded with unexpected skill. When did you learn this dance, Theodor? "But not broken," Theo added, his voice sharper now. More certain. "Not yet." Max allowed himself the faintest of smiles, though it didn''t reach his eyes, just enough to suggest approval without granting it fully. "An optimistic view," he said, turning back to the glass. "Or perhaps just pragmatic." There was a silence then, thick with unspoken tension. Max waited, curious to see how the boy would respond. Weeks ago, Theodor might have stumbled over his words, scrambling to align his thoughts with what he thought Max wanted to hear. But now, his reply came with measured precision. "Pragmatism¡­ it revolves entirely around understanding the pieces, sir," Theo said. "How they fit. How they fail. How to fix them¡­ how to remove them." The faintest flicker of surprise registered in Max''s mind, though he didn¡¯t show it. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, catching his son¡¯s reflection in the glass. Max turned fully, his blue eyes narrowing as he studied his son. Each movement was precisely calibrated¡ªthe quarter turn of his shoulders, the slight inclination of his head, the way his hands hung loose but controlled at his sides. The boy''s newly acquired stillness carried echoes of boardroom power plays¡ªa crude approximation, perhaps, but promising. Like watching a child mimic Machiavelli without understanding the full depths of the game. The words hung in the air between them, sharp and deliberate. "And what pieces do you see in this room?" The question was a trap, of course. A calculated probe designed to expose weakness, to force an error in judgment. Max expected a hesitant reply, something fumbling and insufficient, but instead, Theo met his gaze. The fluorescent lights caught the silver of the boy''s eyes, lending them an unsettling clarity. There was no defiance in his expression, but neither was there submission. It was... blank. A mask, perhaps. One Max recognized all too well. Like looking into a mirror that''s learned to look back. "One," Theo said at last, his tone quiet but firm. The word landed with unexpected weight, each syllable measured and controlled. "The most important one." The simplicity of the answer gave Max pause. He understands. His fingers twitched imperceptibly, the only outward sign of his recalculation. He searched Theo''s expression for cracks, for any hint of the boy''s intent, but found only the same infuriatingly composed neutrality. The afternoon light cast half of Theo''s face in shadow, making his features harder to read. When did you learn to hide so well, Theodor? "Go on," Max said, his voice a velvet blade. He kept his tone carefully modulated, letting just enough danger seep through to test the boy''s composure. "The only piece that matters," Theo replied. His hands remained clasped behind his back, his stance unmoved. "...is the one whose removal will upset the board." Bold. Too bold. Max''s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn''t look away. His reflection in the window caught the gesture, doubling the impact of his displeasure. The boy''s tone was deferential enough to pass scrutiny, but the undercurrent of confidence was unmistakable. Had it been anyone else¡ªone of the colorful idiots that served under him, perhaps, or even Kayden in one of her more insubordinate feminine moods¡ªMax might have dismissed it as arrogance. But from Theo? No, this was something else. "Correct," Max said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. He let the word hang there, testing its weight. "The center defines the whole. Remember that." Each word emerged precisely spaced, a lesson wrapped in warning. "Yes, sir," Theo said. The words were automatic, but Max caught the faintest tilt of his head, the slightest flicker of calculation in his gray eyes. It was unnerving in its familiarity. Like watching a chess piece suddenly develop awareness of the board. "Your posture has improved," Max observed, his tone shifting to something almost conversational. The change in topic was deliberate, a tactical retreat to gather more data. "No more slouching, I see." "Thank you, sir," Theo replied, his voice even. A car horn sounded from far below, but the boy didn''t flinch. "I''ve been... making adjustments." Max''s mind lingered on the final word, turning it over in his head. Once. And then once again. My boy has changed. It wasn''t dramatic¡ªhis soft frame, his cautious demeanor, all still intact. But beneath the surface? Something colder. Sharper. Like steel being tempered, emerging stronger from the forge. Was this how father felt when I started applying myself? It went unsaid that it had all been towards the purpose of eliminating the man to take his place, but Max brushed that aside as he returned to the window, letting the conversation settle into silence. Theo didn¡¯t have that in him, he knew that much. Despite Heith¡¯s own streak of ruthlessness, she was nothing like his sister and Theo was¡­ not like him. To his side, the boy remained motionless, his presence steady, "You''ll be dismissed soon," Max said, his voice low, almost distracted. His hand rose to adjust his tie, though it needed no correction. "But before you go, Theodor... tell me. What is it you''ve learned?" The reply was immediate, as if Theo had anticipated the question. No hesitation, no stumbling search for words. "That this city needs someone to save it, to control it," he said simply. "To rebuild it in an image of order and utopia." Max''s gaze shifted slightly, catching the boy''s reflection once more. "Good," he said finally, the faintest trace of approval coloring his tone. He allowed himself a small nod, perfectly measured. "You''re beginning to understand." Gray eyes seemed to flash. "Thank you, sir." The words were respectful, careful. Unbidden, Maximilian Anders found a small smile growing on his face. Cutscene: A Mother Thinks Cutscene: A Mother Thinks ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? The dining room held its usual evening shadows, Rowan Veder¡¯s grandmother''s crystal chandelier casting warm pools of light across the antique mahogany as steam rose from the serving plates in front of them. The table¡ªtoo large now for just the two of them¡ªstretched between them, its watermarked surface collecting their shared history in rings and scratches. Susan''s fingers traced her glass¡ªcider, just cider, no alcohol on the weekdays, she promised herself, like she promised the therapist, like she promised Greg''s tear-stained face three years ago. Some promises meant more than others. Some promises kept you upright during thirty-hour shifts and parent-teacher conferences and nights when the silence felt like drowning. She took a slow sip as she watched Greg easily plate the spaghetti with practiced movements. "Darling, do be careful-" Susan stopped, hearing her mother-in-law''s inflections in her voice as her son looked up. "Just... watch out, sweetie." The correction was necessary but worrying¡ªa single night back in Rowan¡¯s world weeks ago bringing back everything she thought she¡¯d left behind. Pushing that aside, she focused back on her son¡¯s actions. The way he handled the tongs reminded her of Dr. Harrison in the OR, that same fluid efficiency that came from... from what? Training? Experience? When did he learn to move like that? She found herself cataloging the changes with the same attention she gave her elderly patients in the long-term care ward, the same focus she brought to those precious moments in pediatrics when a small blonde head would peek up from beneath hospital blankets, bringing with it that familiar ache of what-ifs... Stop it, Suzy. The crystal stemware caught the light, and she remembered similar glasses, different liquid, different promises. Three years next month. The number felt simultaneously massive and fragile, like a patient''s stabilizing vitals¡ªvictory tempered by the knowledge that things could always change. Her fingers tightened around the cider, each sip a quiet affirmation. The dining room table sat beneath the warm light of the chandelier¡ªthe one real remnant of her previous life she''d insisted on keeping. Her fingers found the watermark¡ªthe same table where she''d once hosted Rowan''s colleagues, each place setting a battlefield of proper fork placement and calculated conversation. She remembered standing in Bloomingdale''s, testing edge patterns against her palm while the sales associate assured her that yes, this was what the right sort of people used. Now the wood bore Greg''s overenthusiastic cleaning marks, and somehow that felt more honest than all her careful polishing ever had. Susan''s hand trembled slightly as she smoothed the tablecloth¡ªthe good one, she realized with a jolt. The one she''d bought during that desperate phase of trying to impress Rowan''s colleagues, right before everything fell apart. When did Greg even find this? She couldn''t remember the last time she''d touched it herself, couldn''t bear to think about those dinner parties where she''d smiled through clenched teeth while the other wives compared summer homes and private schools. Her fingers traced the fabric''s edge, medical instincts noting the slight tremor. Should have eaten something before this. Blood sugar''s probably... The garlic and basil hung heavy in the air, professional-grade cooking aromas that reminded her of the upscale restaurants she still frequented when she still wanted to spoil herself between shifts. When had he learned to cook like this? She''d taught him the basics¡ªnot because they needed to economize, but because every child should know how to care for themselves. This was different, though. This was talent. The kind that didn''t appear overnight, except¡­ She found herself categorizing Greg''s behavior like patient symptoms¡ªnew mannerisms in one column, old habits in another, changes highlighted in red like warning signs on a chart. She watched Greg''s movements with the same careful attention she gave to post-op patients, noting his gait (too smooth), his posture (too controlled), his reflexes (too sharp). Her trained eye caught the changes: deltoid definition suggesting regular exercise, fine motor control indicating improved proprioception, pupils responding to light changes with unusual precision. Each observation filed in her mind with unprofessional yet perfectly motherly attachment, trying to ignore the implications that made her pulse quicken. The assessment was instinctive¡ªmother and nurse warring for dominance in her observations. Stop it, Susan. Not everything needs a diagnosis. But the medical charts in her mind filled themselves out anyway, mother''s intuition written in perfect nursing shorthand. "So," Greg''s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts, carrying that new edge of confidence that kept catching her off guard, "you''re telling me you wouldn''t pay actual money for this spaghetti?" His eyes caught the light, reflecting a self-assurance that seemed to flicker in and out¡ªthere one moment, carefully dimmed the next, like he was remembering to act more... normal. She raised an eyebrow, fighting back the urge to check his pupils¡ªequal? reactive? normal-shaped? The pasta was good, restaurant quality even, but she knew her role¡ªkeep him grounded, normal, safe. "I said it was good, Greg. I didn''t say I''d open my checkbook for it." "Wow, harsh," he replied with that new grin, the one that seemed to carry secrets. There was something knowing in his expression, like he was sharing a private joke with himself. "You''re lucky I''m not charging you. Do you even know how much garlic bread goes for on the black market? They call it liquid gold." She forced her focus back on his voice, to the familiar way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. This is Greg, she reminded herself. Just Greg. Your little boy. "It''s not even liquid," she pointed out, watching as he tore off a piece of garlic bread with careful restraint. Gone was the boy who''d devour entire loaves, scattering crumbs like evidence of his enthusiasm, a blond hurricane in human form. Now each movement was measured, controlled, as if he was monitoring his own strength, even unconsciously. "Semantics, Mom." He leaned back slightly, his grin softening into something more genuine. The motion was smooth, catlike¡ªthen, as if catching himself, he added a slight wobble, a manufactured touch of clumsiness that made her throat tight. "But really, I nailed it tonight, right?" She nodded, twirling her fork elegantly through the spaghetti. The sauce was perfect, the pasta al dente. When did my boy learn to cook like a chef? Her mind flashed to the PRT brochure hidden in her bedside drawer, edges worn from constant handling and stained with tears. "You did. Seriously, this is... really good, sweetheart. Better than last time." Greg''s smirk grew wider, almost cocky, before he quickly reined it in, ducking his head in an approximation of his old shyness. "I''m getting better," he said, voice quieter but still thrumming with pride. "Figured I should... you know, help out more." Her chest tightened at that, mother''s instinct warring with professional assessment. "You already help plenty," she said softly, light blue eyes watching his every movement for... for what? Signs? God, listen to yourself, Susan. "Nah," he replied, swallowing a bite of pasta and gesturing casually with his fork. "I mean, yeah, I help, but I could be better. Like, more consistent, you know? Plus, it''s fun. Cooking''s like... chemistry, but you get to eat it after." How many family dinners had she spent reminding him to slow down, to chew with his mouth closed? Now here he sat, each movement deliberate, choreographed, wrong. "A budding chef and a scientist," she teased, raising her glass of cider. The ice cubes clinked against the glass, the sound sharp and intrusive in the careful quiet between them. "My overachiever." Greg chuckled, the sound both familiar and strange at the same time, like a remixed version of the laugh she was used to. "Overachiever?" His eyes sparkled with that new pride he tried so hard to hide, barely masked behind his usual playful look. "Nah, I''m just a guy who likes his garlic bread crispy." He smirked, taking a bite of the bread with exaggerated satisfaction that didn''t quite mask the precision of his movements. "But what can I say? The culinary arts call to me." Mmmm. "They call loud enough for you to actually listen." she found herself saying, the words coming automatically as she sampled another piece of the garlic bread. Fresh thyme, she realized¡ªthe kind she used to have imported from specialty grocers, not the dried herbs from their local market. How? Her mind flashed to the untouched garden space behind their house, the plots she''d once planned to fill with herbs like her mother always wanted. "You''re spoiling me tonight." Greg''s responding smile carried that new grace she kept noticing, his posture perfect as he leaned back, so different from the way he used to sprawl across her imported furniture, all gangly limbs and boundless energy. "Well, someone''s gotta keep you from surviving on cafeteria jell-o and questionable lasagna." A laugh escaped her, memories of shared break room meals with the other nurses flooding back. Her fingertips found the chip in her plate, one of the few sets she''d kept after the divorce, now bearing the scars of Greg''s childhood. "It''s not all too bad. The jell-o''s pretty decent these days. I think they upgraded from ''rubber tire'' to ''edible.''" Their shared laughter filled the dining room, echoing off walls that had seen far too little joy lately. For a moment, she could almost forget her worries, could almost ignore the way his laugh seemed more calculated now, like he was measuring each note. She set her fork down, sterling silver that matched nothing else they used anymore, and studied him with patient, careful attention. His cheekbones seemed sharper, more defined, with the slightest bit less youth to them. "So," she began, using the gentle tone she reserved for anxious patients, "How are your friends? You''ve been hanging out with Axel a lot lately, haven''t you?" "Yeah, Sparky''s good." The casual shrug he gave was too perfect, too rehearsed. "We''ve been, uh, gaming. You know, killing time. Hanging with Wesley and the others too." "The others?" She kept her voice steady, the way she did when checking suspicious bruises on elderly patients. Her grip tightened on her mother''s silver, knuckles whitening slightly. "You mean Seo and... who''s the new one? Jonouchi?" Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Greg''s fork paused mid-motion, a micro-expression of surprise crossing his face before smoothing out with unnatural speed. "Yep, good ol'' Joey. Funny guy. Kind of serious, though. Like, guy never cracks a smile, even when Seo''s jumping around laughing like an idiot, doing parkour? It''s weird." "Parkour." The word tasted wrong, like medication on an empty stomach. Images flashed through her mind: trauma cases from her ER rotation, teenagers with shattered bones and grieving mothers. Her heart monitor would be spiking if she were wearing one. "And you''re doing this... parkour?" "Me?" His laugh was crystal perfect, practiced? "Nah, I''m too cool for that. I just watch and judge. Playing games, all that." "Games," she repeated, barely able to keep the slight tremor from her voice. Greg leaned forward, almost but not quite breaking her old but simple rule about elbows on tables. His eyes met hers with that new confidence that reminded her, with a jolt, of the way Rowan used to command attention every single day. "You know me, Mom. Games are life." She smiled despite herself, even as her instincts screamed at her. But she''d learned long ago when to press and when to wait¡ªtriage wasn''t just for the ER, after all. The warm light from her crystal chandelier (a wedding gift from Rowan''s grandmother, worth more than most cars) softened the scene, letting her pretend, just for a moment, that everything was normal. She glanced down at the table again. Her little boy had arranged everything with the same precision as an operating theater: the pasta, the artisanal bread on her grandmother''s serving dish, fresh greens in Waterford crystal. His plating showed the same attention to detail she saw in the hospital''s top surgeons, everything positioned just so, each element balanced. The pepper flakes scattered through the oil carried more heat than strictly necessary, but the technique was flawless. Nothing like the boy who used to drown everything in store-brand sauce, who needed constant reminders about simple table manners. She watched him twirl another perfect forkful, his father''s charm written in every gesture. His hair flopped over his forehead, the only part of him that still seemed genuinely teenage, still purely her Greggie. Everything else had shifted, changed, like watching a wound heal on fast forwarded video. He smiled, and for a moment she saw Rowan again, the brilliant boy who dropped from private school into Winslow and swept her off her feet with that same magnetic energy, before getting pregnant had changed everything. His face was animated, his movements relaxed in a way that seemed almost rehearsed¡ªa careful performance beneath the animation. He''d grown so much recently, not just taller, though that was undeniable¡ªshe still wasn''t used to craning her neck slightly to look him in the eye, not in the slightest. But it was more than that. The confidence, the way he held himself, the subtle grace that appeared between his carefully maintained moments of teenage awkwardness. He wasn''t the same boy who used to stumble over his words or retreat into video games she bought him to keep him inside. The overhead light caught the steam rising from their plates as the conversation shifted, Greg beginning to recount his "adventures." She watched the way his hands moved as he talked about his friends¡ªSeo, Wesley, Joon, and Joey¡ªthrowing in vague, rapid-fire anecdotes that left Susan mildly amused and slightly dizzy. His stories had a practiced quality to them, but she chose not to pry. "So, yeah, Joon trips this digital alarm," Greg said, his hands gesturing wildly, though she noticed how carefully those gestures avoided the glasses, the sauce boat, anything breakable. "And we''re all scrambling to figure out how to fix it. I mean, it was just a simulation, but come on. Digital, Mom. How do you trip a digital alarm?" She arched an eyebrow, her fork paused halfway to her mouth, marinade from the perfectly dressed salad greens threatening to drip onto the tablecloth. "A simulation, huh? Was this ''online'' or in person?" "Uh, both," he replied after the slightest hesitation, his voice carrying that artificial lightness she recognized from her own society days, when maintaining appearances meant everything. His fingers tapped the antique oak before freezing mid-motion, caught in a tell. "It''s... hybrid gaming. Cutting-edge stuff." "Uh-huh," she said, unable to suppress the twitch of her lips into a small smile. "And where exactly does one ''hybrid game'' in Brockton Bay?" Greg paused, just for a second, before leaning forward with an easy grin. ¡°It¡¯s top secret. can¡¯t tell you, mom, I¡¯d be breaking the rules.¡± Susan rolled her eyes, but the warmth of the conversation was too familiar for her to pry. I¡¯ve missed this, she thought to herself through another bite of the delicious pasta. It had been quite some time since things were both this comfortable and easy with her son¡­ at least since that day with the PRT. The guilt crept in unbidden, memories of that day rising like bile. She''d done exactly what she''d sworn never to do after watching Rowan''s family manipulate and control him: she''d chosen authority over trust, institution over love. I reported my son¡­ I thought he had powers and I reported him¡­ I didn¡¯t talk to him. I just tossed him to the government to control. All because she couldn''t bring herself to simply talk to him. The thought still stung as much as anything else did and Susan found herself tossing and turning many a night since then, since that argument, since her boy had thrown in her face that he knew his dad would never have done that. Somehow, that was the most traumatic thing about the last few months¡­ which was terrifying in its own way. The truth in them had cut deeper than any scalpel¡ªRowan, for all his faults, would have protected their son from that kind of scrutiny. There had been some distance from that day till the day she came home from the hospital, after being gone for days, her son having thought she was dead in the bombings that had struck the city. They had both cried into each other¡¯s arms and she had never felt so happy to be with her son. Their tearful reunion had begun to heal the wound, but she still felt the scar tissue of mistrust between them, tender and new. Now, though¡­ "You''ve been spending a lot of time with Axel lately," she said casually, watching his reaction the way she monitored patients for adverse reactions; careful, clinical, searching for the smallest tell. The dining room light caught the slight tension in his shoulders, there and gone like an irregular heartbeat on a monitor. His practiced smirk melted into something real, the performance dropping away like a patient finally letting their guard down. "Sparky''s got good ideas. Keeps me on my toes. Theo on his too." Long fingers¡ªpianist''s fingers, like his father''s¡ªtraced invisible patterns on her heirloom tablecloth. Susan couldn''t help but smile, even as her mind cataloged the changes in her son''s social circle like symptoms in a patient file. Axel¡ªor Sparky, as Greg insisted on calling him¡ªwas an odd one, with his grunge aesthetic, perpetual smirk, and that strange combination of sharp sarcasm and disarming politeness that only occasionally rang false. Greg had met him two years ago at school, and though she hadn''t been sure about him at first¡ªtoo mature, too much attitude, too different from the safe, predictable friends she''d imagined for her son if Arcadia hadn¡¯t been so stingy with admissions¡ªSparky had proven himself a loyal friend. "Theo, huh?" she said aloud, thinking of Greg''s godbrother. Anders. Of course Anders'' blood ran through her son¡¯s veins, however distant the connection. The name carried weight, like her mother-in-law''s silver that still lived in the back of her cabinet, too precious to use but too loaded with memory to give away. She remembered Marjorie Veder at her wedding, lips pursed with slight distaste as she adjusted Susan''s wedding gown to hide her bump with precise, manicured fingers. I wonder if seeing her grandson grow up would have put a smile on that dry face. Susan fought the urge to let out a sigh. Don¡¯t speak ill of the dead. Even despite the family ties, the name felt unfamiliar, three years of carefully maintained distance stretching between her and the Anders family ever since Rowan had gallivanted off to Florida with his secretary. The chandelier light caught on her crystal glass, sending fractured shadows across the tablecloth. Theo''s sudden appearance in Greg''s life as a friend carried weight, a significance she couldn''t ignore. At least I''ve met this one, she thought, though the comfort felt hollow, like so many other reassurances she gave herself these days. The Anders name still carried weight in Brockton Bay, even if she''d chosen to step away from that world. Worry settled in her chest, as familiar as her morning routine of checking her appearance in the hallway mirror, touching up her lipstick before facing the world. She was a mother¡ªthe role had become her anchor after everything else had drifted away. "He''s a good kid," she said carefully, each word measured against memories of his father''s family. "A little... intense, maybe, but good." Steam no longer rose from her pasta, time slipping away unnoticed while she focused on her son. "Intense is putting it lightly." Greg''s laugh carried echoes of Rowan''s charm, but something else flickered in his eyes¡ªwas that pride? The kind of confidence she remembered from her own society days, when every gesture carried meaning. "He''s got this energy, you know? Like he''s always thinking three steps ahead." "That sounds... exhausting." Her fingers found the edge of her napkin, smoothing away invisible imperfections with practiced movements. Old habits died hard, even years after leaving that world of constant scrutiny and perfect table settings. Greg''s shrug carried that new grace that still startled her, so different from his childhood clumsiness. "Nah. Keeps things interesting." She opened her mouth, questions forming... His phone buzzed against the antique oak, the harsh sound interrupting their careful dance of conversation. The name "Sparky" flashed across the screen, and she caught the moment of tension in Greg''s shoulders before he masterfully suppressed it, just as she used to hide her own reactions at society gatherings. He lifted the phone, hesitated a fraction too long, then set it down slowly. "That''s Axel," he said, his voice carrying the same artificial lightness she''d once used at charity galas. "He, uh, wants to show me something cool." Her heart clenched. Sparky. The boy who somehow balanced leather jackets with perfect manners, who seemed to ground Greg in ways she couldn''t anymore. She did her best to push him away the first few times her son had brought him around, making excuses for why Greg couldn¡¯t go outside or that the other boy couldn¡¯t come in to play because Greg had to focus on his homework. Even now she felt bad for that, for doing that to them both. "Something cool," she echoed, the words tasting of doubt. The dining room''s warmth seemed to fade, shadows lengthening across their half-finished meal. She appreciated that he didn¡¯t pretend to be going to sleep, just to sneak out later like he usually always did. Asking her permission at least once in the last month was a courtesy she appreciated, for what little it was worth. "What kind of cool?" His posture loosened deliberately as she stared at her son carefully, expression blank but waiting. "Dunno. He didn''t say. Probably something dumb, like... I don''t know, glow-in-the-dark frisbee." "At night?" The porcelain clinked as she set down her fork, sound sharp against the growing tension. Outside, streetlights flickered on one by one. "That''s when it glows, Mom." His smirk didn''t reach his eyes, which darted between phone, window, and door with barely concealed urgency. "C''mon, keep up." She forced an eye roll, but unease settled in her chest like old perfume. "Is that all you''re going to do?" Greg was already rising, his chair already scraping back slowly. "No idea. Might grab some night ice cream or something." Night ice cream. She mouthed the words slowly. Her fork hesitated on the edge of her plate, leaving tiny scratches in the ceramic like track marks on a patient''s arm. She wanted to say no. To tell him to stay here, where she could see him, where he was safe. But the look in his eyes¡ªthe barely restrained energy, the need to go¡ªstopped her. It was the same look she''d seen in recovering patients, the ones who''d push themselves too hard, too fast, but couldn''t be contained any longer. He wasn''t a little boy anymore. The thought hit her like a crash cart against her hip, sudden and bruising. The dining room light caught his profile, highlighting cheekbones that had sharpened overnight, casting shadows where baby fat used to be. As much as she hated it, she had to let him go. "...Okay," she said finally, her voice quieter than she intended, like whispered updates during midnight rounds. "Have fun." The words felt hollow, automatic. Greg was up in an instant, his chair scraping against the floor as he rushed to her side. He leaned down, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. The gesture was warm but rushed, but she leaned in all the same. "Thanks, Mom. Love you." "Love you too," she said, but the words barely left her lips before he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall with hurried energy. The front door clicked shut with finality, leaving her alone in the quiet dining room. The silence expanded, consuming everything. Susan sat there, staring at his half-finished plate, the carefully arranged food now cold and abandoned. The house felt unbearably quiet, the warmth of their earlier conversation replaced by a gnawing sense of unease that spread through her chest. She noticed the sauce congealing at the edge of her plate, the garlic bread cooling from crisp to chewy¡ªsmall details marking the passage of time like a hospital clock ticking through night shift. The wine glass of cider had lost its condensation, beads of moisture pooling on the coaster like tears. "Love you too, sweetie," she murmured again, the words lingering in the empty air. She wouldn¡¯t push. She promised. Grief 7.16 Grief 7.16 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C ? A bolt of lightning tore through the night, searing the air where Seo had been a split second before. His enhanced reflexes kicked in before his conscious mind could process the danger, body moving with inhuman speed that felt foreign after only a week since the boss''s "promotion." The Ronin general hit the ground hard, reinforced muscles absorbing an impact that would have strained normal bones as he skidded across cracked asphalt. His leather jacket scraped against the rough surface, the sound crystal clear to his heightened senses in spite of the chaos around him as he rolled behind a dented Camry. The sedan''s faded green paint glinted like vomit in the flickering streetlights, windshield spiderwebbed with cracks that reminded him way too much of the patterns his tekk¨­-kagi left in flesh. Those same cracks only deepened as crackling energy slammed into a sad, graffiti-covered box of rust that had once been a mailbox, splitting it open like an over-ripe fruit. The smell of melting metal hit his enhanced senses an instant later, along with the acrid stench of burning paint and ozone that made his eyes water behind his mask. "Fuck meeeeeee..." he hissed through gritted teeth, glancing at the ruined mailbox, now nothing but half-melted slag dripping onto the sidewalk. Kuso. The sight sent an involuntary shiver down his spine as memories of Lung''s flames flickered through his mind. Tougher body or not, getting cooked wasn''t on his agenda tonight. He pressed his back against the car, twin Berettas clutched in his hands with the familiar weight of years of practice. The guns felt reassuring but he needed more than reassuring when faced with this level of clusterfuck. His palms were slick with sweat inside his fighting gloves, making the grips feel uncertain in his grasp despite his superhuman strength. His breaths came shallow and fast, heart hammering against his ribs like a taiko drum, but he forced them slower. Calm. Control. You''re a general now, man. Oyabun material. Look the part, Seo told himself, doing his best to keep what little he could together as another explosion rocked the street somewhere behind him. He was shaking and sweating harder than the night he got these powers, The tiger mask felt heavy on his face as he adjusted it with the back of one hand, its metal edges pressing against his cheekbones hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck¡­" First time wearing the damn thing¡ªthis symbol of his new authority, new powers¡ªand he was already sweating under it, the moisture making his skin itch in the worst way. Right now it felt more like a fancy coffin lid than a badge of office. With what courage he could muster, he peeked over the car''s hood, one eye twitching involuntarily as his enhanced vision caught every detail of the chaos. Shit. Calling it a warzone might have been polite. No, the street was a hellscape, the kind of fucked up bullshit you''d only ever expect from an action movie scene. The kind where the director got drunk on explosives and decided subtle wasn''t in his vocabulary. The air itself seemed to vibrate with violence, thick with cordite and the metallic tang of spilled blood that his nose picked up like a shark in bloody water. Gunfire rattled through the night air like some demented percussion section, sparking off streetlights and the twisted remains of old construction scaffolding. His enhanced reflexes let him track individual bullets as they ricocheted, sending golden sparks raining down in deadly beautiful arcs. To his left, a sleek black Hummer roared as its engine idled, its blue-red trim reflecting in the burning remnants of a shop window. The flames cast dancing shadows across its polished surface, making the vehicle look almost alive in the darkness, like some mechanical yokai waiting to pounce. The Flying Dragons, in their blue-black streetwear¡ªhoodies, chains, sneakers, cocky swagger¡ªwere firing in tight bursts toward the building in the middle of the street. Their gear probably cost more than his mother made in six months growing up, all designer labels and custom pieces that screamed more "Shibuya fashion" than "street wear", much less "gang war". Flashes of muzzle fire lit their faces, young and wild as they whooped and cheered like it was all some kind of game. Kids playing at being yakuza, with real guns and real bodies hitting the ground. And in the middle of chaos incarnate? Ronin HQ. The place didn''t scream "gang hideout." It looked like what it was meant to be: a fancy condo. Clean brickwork that probably cost more than all the cars on the street right now times ten, modern glass that reflected the firefight like some twisted mirror, a neatly landscaped front that somehow hadn''t been ruined by years of ABB activity. No graffiti. No markers. Nothing that should''ve given it away. The whole setup was meant to be invisible, hidden in plain sight among the other wannabe-high-end, forgotten buildings that dotted this part of the city. Yet here they were. The Dragons and Triad working together, which, honestly, should''ve been impossible. Seo frowned as he worked it over in his head. These guys can''t even share a parking lot without someone getting stabbed. No exaggeration there¡ªhe''d heard of three separate "business meetings" end in bloodshed at the start of the year. His ears caught snippets of Mandarin and Cantonese mixing with the gunfire from the Dragons, the languages familiar after years of working the streets. Not only were both gangs historically ready to gut each other over pocket change, all the intel had screamed they were about to start a damn territory war. The idea that this whole time they were just gathering forces to do... this... God damnit, I fucked the dog on this one. This was the kind of fuck-up that got people killed. The kind of fuck-up Lung would kill you for. Let''s make sure I live long enough to regret missing this one, yeah? On the other end of the pockmarked street, the Sky Triad had blockaded the exit with their Toyota Land Cruisers, the vehicles arranged with military precision. Their men moved like they were auditioning for some Yakuza thriller¡ªblazers with gold trim, designer sunglasses, shoes polished enough to blind¡ªeach motion calculated and cold. Pistols and SMGs barked in controlled bursts, shots sparking off the condo''s reinforced windows in a deadly light show his enhanced vision tracked with painful clarity. Both ends of the street were locked down tight, Hummers and Land Cruisers five deep on each exit. This wasn''t just planned¡ªthis was fucking choreographed. Inside HQ, his Ronin were giving as good as they got. He could pick up the distinctive rhythms of their weapons¡ªthe firing pattern letting him know they were fighting back hard. A quick glance confirmed they''d barricaded the entrances and windows with whatever they could grab: flipped tables, filing cabinets, even that fancy couch he insisted on. Smart thinking. Even though I fuckin'' loved that couch. You didn''t survive long in this business without learning how to fortify a position. But determination and furniture wouldn''t hold forever. BTZZZ! And then there was that lightning-slinging cocksucker. Another bolt cracked through the night, vaporizing a chunk of the Lexus''s hood barely three feet from his position. Seo''s jaw clenched involuntarily, teeth creaking from the pressure. His mother would kill him if he came home with another cracked molar. He was already on thin ice with the old woman ever since Bakuda. Where is that sparkplug piece of shit? He knew exactly who it was¡ªthat Dragon boss who''d been making noise about moving into the Bay with Lung gone. But Seo wasn''t about to validate the guy by calling the fucker out. Some people got off on that kind of recognition. "Where the fuck is backup?" Seo growled, ducking back behind the car as a flurry of bullets peppered the pavement near his feet. The impacts sent tiny shards of concrete flying that battered him like miniature missiles. He pressed his back against the car door, knuckles whitening around his pistols as his strength threatened to warp the grips. "That fucking Meathead. I called him ten minutes ago." Wesley had been his only option when everything went sideways, the first and last call he could make before the chaos made phone conversations impossible. Now all he could do was wait and hope the muscle-bound idiot remembered which street to turn down. "D¨­ shita... how the fuck did they find us?" The Japanese slipped out unconsciously, his mother''s language always surfacing when stress peaked. But he had a pretty good guess at the answer. The boss. Of course it''s the boss. The kid had been on an absolute tear lately, beating these guys senseless and gift-wrapping them for the cops. Six arrests last week alone, not counting that whole thing with the safe house. Seo''s face twisted into a grimace at the memory. Right. The safe house. Shattering glass sent him lower behind cover, hands moving automatically to reload one Beretta while keeping the other trained on potential threats. His enhanced coordination made the motion fluid, almost beautiful if you ignored the context. They''re here for him. Has to be. The boss has pissed them off enough for two lifetimes. The lightning-slinger was the real problem though. Every time Seo tried to get eyes on the situation, a bolt would streak toward his position, too fast to dodge if he wasn''t already moving. Even with his enhanced reflexes, it was a close thing each time. The bastard was out there somewhere¡ªtoo much smoke and too many bodies to spot him yet¡ªbut Seo could feel the electric charge in the air raising the hair on his arms. "Perfect. Just perfect," Seo muttered, his enhanced hearing picking up the crackle of electricity building somewhere in the chaos. Ten minutes since he''d texted the boss: RONIN HQ UNDER SIEGE. WE R DYING! Still no response. Fuck. No point panicking¡ªyet. That''s a fucking lie and you know it, Asada. A flicker of movement caught his attention, enhanced vision cutting through the smoke and darkness. A Triad member in a slim black blazer was sprinting between cover, gold tie clip catching the light like a beacon. Seo''s enhanced reflexes took over before conscious thought, both Berettas singing in perfect sync. The man crumpled mid-step, pistol skittering across the asphalt with a sound that rang crystal clear to Seo''s heightened senses. "One down," he muttered, lips curling into what his enhanced strength made feel like a death rictus rather than the grim smile he intended. "Only what, forty more to go? Wonderful." The sarcasm had barely left his mouth when another lightning bolt split the night, the crack of thunder hitting his enhanced hearing like a physical blow. The surge of power hit a fire hydrant, water erupting from the ruptured pipe in a chaotic spray that his heightened senses transformed into thousands of individual droplets, each one a potential distraction. Seo winced, shielding his eyes against the sudden burst of mist while his other senses worked overtime to track threats through the impromptu rain. He didn''t need to look to know who was responsible. The electric charge in the air made his enhanced nervous system light up like a Christmas tree, every hair standing on end as his body screamed danger at him. Sliding around to the other side of the car, Seo''s eyes scanned the rooftops with inhuman precision, searching for any sign of the lightning-slinger. Every time he shifted position, another bolt followed, precise and unrelenting. Seo clenched his jaw, the tiger mask suddenly feeling heavier than ever. "Yeah, you want the fucking boss?" He checked his ammunition with practiced ease, enhanced coordination making the motion fluid even as his mind raced through scenarios. "Get in line, motherfucker." A rapid series of crashes and shouts from the far end of the street sent Seo''s enhanced senses into overdrive, his heightened vision catching every detail as one of the Land Cruisers crumpled under the impact of a Hummer. The vehicles ground against each other with a screech of twisted metal that made his sensitive ears ring. The momentary chaos gave him the opening he needed, superhuman speed and reflexes letting him dart to a new position behind a dented delivery van, the movement fluid despite the tension thrumming through his enhanced muscles. His enhanced hearing picked up every detail of the gang war raging around him. Flying Dragons in their street fashion¡ªhoodies emblazoned with blue dragons and cargo pants worth more than his first car¡ªbarked orders in a mix of accented English and Japanese. Their assault rifles thundered in a deadly rhythm his trained ear recognized as military-grade hardware. Sky Triad members moved with the cold precision of heist experts, their compact submachine guns spitting precise bursts that sounded off like lethal rain. Two groups that had been at each other''s throats since their inception, now working in semi-perfect sync with one goal: destroying everything he''d helped build. He carefully guided his shots even as he fired quickly, scattering Dragons behind a shattered storefront. His vision tracked each individual shard of glass as it rained down, creating a deadly beautiful light show. "This is complete bullshit," he hissed, skilled fingers making the reload of his Beretta look like a magic trick. His mind raced through scenarios¡ªif this firefight dragged on much longer, the cops and PRT might actually decide to earn their paychecks for once and show up to the Asian Quarter for a reason other than "committing police brutality". Or, at least they''d direct that brutality at the fuckers trying to murder him and his men. That could work in his favor, give Seo an out that didn''t end with him extra crispy or ventilated. But explaining this clusterfuck to the authorities would be its own special hell. A quick glance around cover let him spot a Dragon trying to flank the building. His enhanced reflexes took over, sending a bullet flying with inhuman precision. The gangster dropped with a sharp cry that his ears caught in perfect clarity, the sound of the man clutching his wounded leg almost lost under the chaos. That''s when Seo saw it¡ªlightning slammed into the building''s face, carving a jagged black scar into brick and mortar. His enhanced vision caught every crack spreading through the wall, telling him exactly what the sparkplug bastard was planning. "Shit. He''s trying to flush us out like rats." The Triads opened up with another coordinated volley, one round ricocheting off the pavement with a spark his enhanced eyes tracked like a camera flash. He shifted position, muscles coiling with superhuman tension as he prepared to move. "Going to put down every last one of these yarou," he growled, Japanese mixing with English as his patience wore thin. A deep rumble preceded the massive crash that yanked his attention left. His enhanced reflexes let him track the Hummer as it erupted into a fireball, debris flying in all directions like deadly shrapnel. He flinched as metal pinged off the van, his superhuman heart somehow hammering even faster. Did those idiots just use the RPG in my office? The one I specifically said was for my use only? His eye twitched. Eight racks of weapons budget up in smoke. Fantastic. "Sure, boss," he muttered, sarcasm dripping like poison. "Take your sweet time. Maybe grab some green tea mochi for dessert while you''re at it." His dark eyes swept the street, tracking the Dragons and Triad as they advanced in perfect coordination, combined firepower forcing his people deeper into the building. His tactical mind, sharpened by both experience and enhancement, raced through possibilities. This isn''t just about the boss anymore. The level of coordination, the timing, the intel¡ªsomeone was pulling strings behind the scenes. Someone who could make sworn enemies work together like a well-oiled machine. The distinctive sound of breaking glass made him spin, enhanced reflexes bringing his Berettas to bear as a Molotov cocktail sailed through the air. Flames erupted up the side of the condo, the orange glow reflecting off his tiger mask as his enhanced vision tracked the fire''s spread. One thought cut through the chaos with crystal clarity: "Fuck me running. Cops are definitely gonna show now." He didn''t hate the idea of backup¡ªcops, PRT, anyone¡ªbut he knew what that would mean. Lockup. Interrogation. A headache he didn''t need. Another crash ripped through the night, tearing the air apart with the kind of violence that demanded your full attention¡ªlike a car wreck you couldn''t look away from, no matter how much you wanted to. Seo''s head snapped toward the noise, heart sinking in the split second before his lips pulled into a sharp smile. one of the Dragons'' Hummers had rammed headfirst into a Triad Land Cruiser, the two vehicles now a mess of twisted metal and leaking fluids. On the ground, their respective owners were already at it¡ªshouting, shoving, weapons half-raised. Finally, s. Something good tonight. His brain kicked into high gear, scanning the smoke-drenched chaos for any hint of movement that mattered. If they could just keep each other distracted, this clusterfuck might hold long enough for the boss to roll in. Blue Eyes White Dragon to the rescue, like always. Right? He wanted to believe it. But the thought sat uneasily in his chest, like something heavy and jagged pressing against his ribs. Then came the footstep. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy enough to carry over the distant shouts and gunfire. Seo''s body moved before his brain caught up, his grip tightening on the twin Berettas at his sides, the weight of them suddenly unbearable in his hands. He turned, breath catching as a figure emerged from the alley''s smoke-choked shadows. Broad-shouldered. Armored like a tank. Something massive clutched in their hands, the silhouette almost cartoonishly oversized¡ªuntil you noticed how naturally they held it. "Shit," Seo muttered, the word slipping out as reflex. Then the figure stepped into the flickering light of a nearby streetlamp, and Seo blinked, his fear evaporating like fog under a heat lamp. Dyed blonde hair on a square jaw. Familiar enough to jolt his brain out of its fight-or-flight stupor. He stared at the modified black boxing headgear sitting snug on that thick skull, the red visor glinting like some low-budget anime knockoff. And below all that, there it was¡ªthe same dumbass grin that always made Seo question whether this guy''s brain was connected to anything at all. "Meathead?" Wesley Yang stood there, broad as a billboard and twice as bright in that sleeveless red motorcycle jacket of his. The black trim was almost subtle, but nothing could downplay the fact that the guy looked like a walking road flare. "Smokey!" Wesley grinned, his voice a slow drawl that somehow carried over the chaos. His hand lifted the massive sledgehammer with the casual ease of someone carrying a baseball bat. Seo''s eyes flicked to the weapon''s handle¡ªit looked as thick as his forearm. Perfect. "Why you dressed like that?" Wesley asked, grin widening like this was some schoolyard reunion. Seo rolled his eyes, tamping down the urge to snap. The stress already had his teeth grinding, and Wes''s dumb questions weren''t helping. "Shut up," he shot back, tone clipped. "It''s Kiritora when I''m like this. Remember that, Zhu Hawk." Wesley didn''t flinch. Didn''t even blink, the grin still glued to his face. "Yeah, sure thing, Smokey." The big idiot stepped closer, planting himself at the alley''s mouth like a living barricade. The easy swagger in his movements set Seo''s nerves on edge, though he wasn''t entirely sure why. "Got your call," Wesley said, hefting the sledgehammer onto one shoulder like it weighed nothing. "Booked it. Took me a minute to get the new gear on, though." He gestured vaguely at his getup with his free hand, as if the bright red monstrosity needed explanation. Seo''s gaze flicked down again, taking in every detail of the stupidly oversized weapon. The thing was almost as tall as he was, its blunt head gleaming under the streetlights. It looked like the kind of weapon someone would use to pulverize a building¡ªor a person, if Wes was in one of his moods. Great. Just great. "Rest of ''em should be here any minute now." "Forget the rest of them," Seo growled, words coming sharper than intended, his scowl hidden behind the tiger mask. "We''re only alive because the capes aren''t blasting yet. Dragons and Triad are working together. Their capes are fucking working together." "Whoa." Wesley tilted his head, the absurd red visor of his helmet catching the flickering streetlight as he glanced down at Seo. "You fucked up bad, didn''t ya?" "Not the time, meathead." "Thought you said no nicknames." "No, I said¡ª" Seo started, only to duck as a flurry of bullets pinged off the alley wall to his right, sending chunks of brick and dust into the air. His hand shot up to shield his face, the move instinctive and far too late to be helpful. "I said, shut the fuck up and cover me!" Without waiting for Wesley''s reaction, Seo holstered one Beretta and launched himself forward, boots hitting the hood of the car in a blur of motion. The leap felt too light, his enhanced muscles making it almost effortless, even as the adrenaline in his veins made the world slow to a crawl. Mid-air, his free hand came up, the Beretta barking twice. Each shot echoed in his ears, sharp and clean against the backdrop of distant chaos. The first bullet ripped through the shoulder of a Flying Dragons member, the man crumpling with a grunt and clutching the wound. The second found its mark dead center in another gangster''s chest, sending him stumbling back into the barricade with a spray of crimson. Seo hit the ground hard, boots skidding against the pavement as he ducked behind another car for cover. The air felt alive with static, his enhanced senses picking up every spark and pop of gunfire, every shout and distant crack of breaking glass. Behind him, there was a grunt¡ªlow, guttural, and unmistakably Wesley. A fraction of a second later, the car he''d just used as cover screamed across the street, skidding at a diagonal angle straight into the Dragons'' makeshift barricade. The impact was cataclysmic, a crunch of metal on metal that sent debris scattering like shrapnel. Multiple gangsters dove for cover, and Seo''s eyes darted to the massive dent in the car''s side, already knowing who had caused it. "What the fuck, man?!" Seo shouted, voice cracking as he dove toward a new piece of cover. "You''re welcome!" Wesley''s voice rang out, all smug pride. Before Seo could bark back, a burst of heat and light streaked past him, close enough that the static prickled along his exposed arms. The lightning bolt slammed into the pavement a few feet ahead, leaving a smoking crater that filled the air with the acrid stench of burnt asphalt. His head whipped toward the source as he rolled to the side, instinct taking over. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The movement minimized his profile, but not by much. No guarantee it''d help if the next bolt was aimed better. "We''re gonna die out here if they don''t show up soon," he hissed, voice low enough that even he barely heard it. A new sound cut through the din¡ªboots on pavement, deliberate and steady. Seo''s head snapped toward the source, his grip tightening on the Beretta still in hand. A sound cut through the noise¡ªboots hitting pavement and Seo''s gaze snapped up, his body tense and ready to spring. Jonouchi. no, Roshi now. Even in the middle of this warzone, the older man moved like he wasn''t in a rush, like the bullets flying around him were a bad joke he wasn''t laughing at. Roshi''s presence carried that unnerving calm, the kind that made everything else feel louder and more chaotic by comparison. Seo straightened slightly, his gaze locking onto the figure stepping into the fray. His sleeveless black motorcycle jacket wasn''t just gear¡ªit was a damn statement. The golden dragon curling across his back gleamed in the flickering streetlights, an emblem that said look at me and regret it. The reinforced yellow accents on his pants and those steel-toed boots? Yeah, those tied it all together, making him look more like a war machine than a man. Then there was the mask¡ªfull-face, etched with a dragon silhouette, its predator-yellow visor catching the light like a warning. Roshi didn''t waste a second. No grand entrances, no unnecessary words. Just movement. He closed the distance to the nearest Flying Dragon with that fluid precision that always felt a little too sharp, like watching a predator decide to pounce. His foot came up in a spinning arc that connected with the guy''s chest, hard enough that Seo swore he heard something break. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The guy hit the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. "Kiritora," Roshi barked, his tone cutting clean through the chaos. "Orders. Where''s Haechi?" Seo hesitated. just for a second. because Jonouchi¡ªRoshi, he reminded himself¡ªlooked like he''d stepped straight out of someone''s fever dream of a super-soldier. Fuckin surreal. The same guy who lectured him on subtlety and patience now stood there like a goddamn action figure brought to life. "On his way," Seo managed, gritting his teeth to force the words out. "Last I heard, anyway." Before Roshi could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows¡ªa sleek, polished blur that moved with too much confidence to be anything but deliberate. Joon Lee¡ªHaechi¡ªslowed to a stop just short of their position, his angular blue mask catching the faint light. A dragon crest, subtle but unmistakable, marked the forehead, and his black-and-blue tactical gear looked so precise it was almost irritating. Even the faint glow of the wrist-mounted tablet on his arm screamed high-end. Seo blinked, staring for a moment longer than he meant to. Seriously? He looks like he''s about to drop a powerpoint mid-battle. "Traffic was hell," Haechi said smoothly, voice calm behind the mask. He tilted his head toward the ongoing chaos. "How bad?" "Bad." Seo''s reply snapped out fast, clipped. "They''ve got a lightning thrower frying anything that moves. It''s definitely you-know-who. Also, no time for fashion shows, Haechi. Focus up." "Says the guy in a tiger mask." Before Seo could fire back, a sharp laugh broke through the tension. Wesley¡ªno, Zhu hawk, he reminded himself, because apparently, they were all playing dress-up tonight¡ªgrinned wide as he hefted his sledgehammer. "Hey, at least Kiritora''s got style," Wesley said, his tone that lazy, shit-eating confidence that grated on Seo''s nerves. "And now we''re all here. Let''s show these pricks why they don''t fuck with the mothafuckin'' Ronin." Style? Seriously? Seo bit back the retort burning at the back of his throat. Not the time. Instead, he turned his focus back to the fight. And then they moved. It wasn''t perfect. There was no choreography, no pre-planned strategy. But somehow, it just clicked. Roshi led the charge, his movements crisp and devastating. Every kick, every punch, every strike was precise¡ªdelivered with the kind of efficiency that made Seo realize just how far he still had to go. Never really learned how to fight. He didn''t really have to, considering guns and swords did a much better job than fists. Haechi flanked, slipping through the fray like a scalpel through flesh. Calculated. Efficient. His tablet glowed faintly as he barked out updates and directions over his earpiece to the Ronin still fighting back, his voice somehow steady even when the ground shook. Wesley, on the other hand, was pure chaos. Raw strength and sheer mass in motion. The sledgehammer swung in arcs that shattered cover, crumpled barricades, and sent gangsters scrambling like roaches under a light. And him? He was the bridge. His pistol barked out in sharp, measured bursts, as he moved instinctively, motions syncing with theirs in ways that felt natural¡ªlike they''d been fighting together for years, not minutes. For the first time tonight, it felt like they might actually pull this off. Roshi was a blur, years of skill and experience making his enhancements look even more inhuman than they already were. Precision and strength wrapped in goju-ryu technique that made everything else happening around him look amateur at best. A triad grunt came at him swinging a crowbar, a full-force arc aimed right at Roshi''s head. But it didn''t matter¡ªRoshi caught it mid-swing, the steel screeching against his palm. A quick twist, and the guy''s grip broke like it didn''t even exist. The weapon clattered to the ground a second later, forgotten, as Roshi drove his elbow into the man''s temple. The grunt crumpled like wet cardboard, out before his body hit the pavement. Damn. Sensei''s got moves. Across the street, Haechi ducked behind the mangled remains of a vending machine. His wrist-mounted tablet flickered, blue light reflecting off his mask as his fingers flew across the interface. Calm as ever, he shouted something into their comms¡ªorders, tactical updates, whatever¡ªand then slid out of cover just long enough to deliver a kick to the nearest dragon''s knee. The angle was perfect. Bone cracked, the guy folded with a sharp yell, and Haechi was already moving before the body hit the ground. Meanwhile, Zhu Hawk was, predictably, loud as hell. "Crowd control!" he bellowed, grinning like an idiot as his sledgehammer smashed into the side of a Humvee. The massive vehicle screeched under the force, skidding sideways until it crashed into the Dragons'' barricade. The gangsters scattered like roaches, diving for cover as the makeshift wall crumbled around them. Of course, the meathead was having the time of his life. Seo, for his part, moved as best he could. His Berettas were an extension of his hands, snapping off shots as he darted from cover to cover. Each bullet landed where it was meant to: a shoulder, a knee, a weapon ripped clean out of a hand. One Dragon spun backward, clutching his shoulder. Another dropped his gun entirely and bolted, slipping into the shadows without a second glance. Good. Less mess to clean up later. But just as the tide seemed to turn in their favor, the air shifted. The ozone hit Seo''s nose first. Sharp, metallic, an electric needle dragging down his sinuses. His boots slid to a stop against the gritty asphalt, pulse spiking in a way he wasn''t proud of. The Triad gangsters were already breaking formation, scrambling like roaches as they barked hurried commands into their earpieces. They didn''t even look back as they bolted. That''s not normal. Seo felt himself freeze, teeth itching as static crawled over his skin and the sharp tang of ozone hit his nose. "Electro-fucker!" he shouted. "Scatter!" They didn''t have a chance to. The flash came fast¡ªbright enough to turn night into searing white¡ªand the crack that slammed into his chest like a physical blow. The blast struck the Hummers, the explosion ripping one of them apart in a fiery display of force. Metal screeched as it flew, the shockwave throwing up a spray of debris and shrapnel. Seo barely had time to twist out of the way before a chunk of flaming wreckage slammed into the ground where he''d been standing. "Fuck!" Wesley''s voice, somewhere behind him, was half a grunt, half a yell as he dove for cover. You and me both, meathead. Roshi was already back on his feet, his movements deliberate despite the scorch marks marring his jacket. The man didn''t hesitate, his posture as steady as ever, even as the chaos raged around them. Haechi groaned somewhere nearby, sitting up with a pained grunt. He adjusted his mask with one hand while the other dragged his tablet closer, the faint blue glow flickering like nothing had happened. And then there was Zhu Hawk. Somehow, the idiot looked completely unfazed. "That''s all you got?!" he shouted, swinging the sledgehammer onto his shoulder like this was all just a warm-up. Seo glared, the frustration boiling over before he could stop it. "Shut up and focus. We''re not out of this yet." He forced himself to his feet, rolling his shoulder to test the damage. It screamed in protest, but nothing felt broken. Good enough. "Fuck me..." the words slipped out under his breath as he scanned the street again. The Dragons and Triad were regrouping, their movements sharper now, more coordinated. Whoever was running the show on the other side wasn''t giving them time to recover. We need to end this fast. The smoke cleared just enough to reveal the source. Standing on the crumpled remains of the hummer was a figure¡ªtall, lean, posed up like some dickhead grim reaper. Even through the haze, Seo recognized the silhouette. Tactical streetwear, black with faint blue-white accents that glowed like faint embers. Muscular arms ¡ª but still a good bit smaller than Wesley''s ¡ª were wrapped in white cloth beneath compression sleeves, Lichtenberg scars snaking across his shoulders like a fucked-up art piece. The mouth mask was what sold it, though: Black, featureless except for the faint shine of a thin, white-painted crack cutting on one side. "...Inazuma." He hadn''t meant to say it aloud. "Don''t forget me." The voice came from across the street, slick and mocking, soaked in smugness Seo''s head snapped toward it, heart sinking further. Perched casually on the hood of a wrecked hummer was another figure¡ªthin, wiry, with a lazy posture that pissed Seo off on principle, mostly because he recognized it in the mirror half the time. Red shirt, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Arms like blackened glass, veined and jagged as if the skin itself was trying to rip free. "Zhiyu," Seo muttered, jaw tight. He was already calculating¡ªoptions, angles, anything. The gangsters had scattered, but Inazuma wasn''t alone, and the Ronin crew wasn''t exactly in prime shape after the last volley. "Kiritora." Roshi''s sharp, clipped tone cut through the chaos as the man stalked up to his side, his presence radiating that unsettling calm. Seo didn''t turn. His grip tightened dangerously around the Berettas in his hands, sweat beading under his mask. "Yeah, I see them." "We can''t hold them." "No shit." Zhiyu yawned, exaggerated and loud enough to carry over the tension. "You boys planning something?" he gestured lazily with one molten arm. "Don''t mind us. we''ll wait." "Asshole," Wesley muttered, stepping up beside Roshi with his massive sledgehammer slung over one shoulder. His grin was totally gone now, replaced by a focused edge that Seo didn''t see often. Haechi was last to join, mask catching the firelight as he moved into place. "Reinforcements?" Seo shook his head. "Plans?" "Don''t die." "''Good plan." "Shut up." The words fell flat, even to his own ears, but he wasn''t in the mood to sugarcoat anything. Not when crackling lightning starting to coil around Inazuma''s fingers like they were alive. Those hands. Seo''s eyes flicked between Inazuma''s lightning-laced fingers and the swirling fireball that Zhiyu lazily spun in his palm. The flames reflected in Zhiyu''s too-perfect features, casting jagged shadows that twisted as the fire danced. And that hair¡ªsnow-white, catching the glow of his own damn flames like he''d planned the lighting for this entrance. It framed a face built for trouble, sharp and smug, the kind that practically screamed I''m better than you. But it was the eyes that nailed it. red, piercing, alive with a malice that you couldn''t help but notice. "Shit." Like before, the word scraped out of him before he could stop it, hoarse and automatic. Zhiyu''s smirk widened, eyes narrowing as he soaked in Seo''s discomfort. "It''s actually pronounced Zhiyu," he drawled, voice slow and mocking. "But hey, points for effort." Both of the bosses. Seo''s mind whirred, every thought colliding with the next. two fucking capes. his grip tightened on the Berettas, the cold metal biting into his palms as if grounding him. This wasn''t just a gang war anymore¡ªit was a massacre waiting to happen. Then Seo saw it¡ªpurple smoke curling around the wreckage behind Inazuma. the fog thickened, solidifying, and in seconds, another figure took shape. Shiiiiit. She was tall, the kind of height on a woman that made her presence all the more noticeable, and her outfit wasn''t helping. The backless white-and-purple jumpsuit was cut to turn heads, the fox-themed red gas mask doing nothing to soften the effect. Slits in the fabric revealed pale skin, every inch of it intentional. Then there was her hair¡ªvibrant purple that spilled down her back, catching every flicker of light in the air. Three. Next to Zhiyu, another thud. Seo flinched, his head snapping toward the sound as a second figure dropped into view. And he recognized her, too. Shiiiiiiiiiiiit. Neon green hair caught the light first, bright and loud against the sleek black-and-green skinsuit that clung to her frame. A matching bolero jacket hung loose, the trim catching the glow of the flames around them. But it was the tech that sealed it. Massive, tinker-made gauntlets, bulky enough to dwarf her slim frame but precise in their design, hummed faintly as she flexed her hands. The color scheme matched her outfit, and her green visor, paired with bulky headphones, hid her eyes entirely. Four. Behind him, Wesley shifted, his voice a low mutter. "This is bad, Smokey." No shit. Seo''s jaw tightened, a spike of irritation flaring in his chest. He couldn''t let himself think like that¡ªnot right now. His body shifted as he adjusted his stance, scanning the street for better angles. Inazuma''s the distance hitter. Range. Speed. Precision. Zhiyu''s the wildcard infighter. Firepower and more firepower, the kind of combo that made every scenario worse. And the other two were the worst kinds of support... for them, at least. The pieces fell into place, each one pointing to the same conclusion. Great. Fucking. Combo. His fingers tightened around the Berettas, the leather of his gloves creaking as he gripped them white-knuckle tight. His eyes flicked between the capes and the chaos around them, every nerve on edge. Running wasn''t an option¡ªnot with the Ronin HQ and their people still trapped in the middle of this clusterfuck. The boss better be on his way, or we''re fucked. Inazuma moved first. His descent was effortless. The tall cape leaped from his perch with a fluidity that didn''t belong to someone wearing combat boots. He landed softly, the weight of his arrival marked only by the faint hum of electricity that followed him. The charge buzzed in the air, crawling under Seo''s skin, sharp and unrelenting. "Shit," Wesley muttered, barely loud enough to catch over the din. On the other side of the street, Zhiyu chuckled. The sound grated¡ªlow and smooth, almost musical in the worst way. The fireball in his palm flared once, a bright, fiery pulse, before shrinking into a tight, concentrated orb of heat. "Don''t look so scared," Zhiyu teased, his voice carrying an edge of amusement that made Seo''s teeth grind. "We didn''t know y''all had this many capes, but even if we did, we''re not here to fight." "The fuck?" the words slipped out before Seo could catch them, his gaze darting between the armed gang members still holding their positions. Wesley, crouched behind cover, shot a wary glance toward Seo. "Since when?" Inazuma spoke next, his tone clipped and deliberate. "This is not a fight." Zhiyu leaned into his smirk, letting the pause hang in the air like a taunt. "It''s a warning." "A message," Inazuma corrected, his sharp gaze flicking between the Ronin crew. "To you and your boss," Zhiyu added, the grin never leaving his face. "For fucking with us and ours," Inazuma finished. Joon Lee shifted, his stance still tight, his muscles tense enough to snap. His voice came low, cutting through the tension for the first time. "Yours." Zhiyu''s grin widened, like he''d been waiting for that. "Yeah, we did a little merger before we hit the city. We''re best buddies now¡ªone big, happy Dragon Triad." Seo''s jaw clenched as he caught the phrase. Merger. A team-up was one thing but two gangs with that amount of firepower together¡­ It was a powder keg on top of a declaration of war. Inazuma''s eyes darted toward Zhiyu, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. "Yes. With Lung no longer in the picture, we''ve decided to¡ª" "Make different moves," Zhiyu cut in, rolling the fireball across his knuckles like a coin. From behind cover, Wesley''s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Does that involve finishing each other''s sentences?" Zhiyu turned toward him, all grin and no warmth. "It involves me not frying you to hell as long as you listen." Seo scoffed, stepping forward, his grip on the Berettas shifting. "Listen?" The word came sharp, bitter. "Listen to what?" Inazuma''s voice dropped lower. "A proposition for your boss." ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Hardkour stood motionless at the edge of the Ronin HQ rooftop. Fuckin'' bullet holes everywhere. The emergency lights from the cleanup crews bathed the scene in bursts of red and blue, faintly reflecting off the fires still being extinguished. His katana sat silent against his back, hilt jutting out at an angle like it was just waiting for someone stupid enough to push him. The real show¡ªthe PRT and the cops¡ªhad already come and gone. Slow to arrive, and quick to leave, just like they always were when shit went down in former ABB territory. In and out, no lingering, no questions asked Greg''s eyes swept over the street below, lingering on the husks of luxury cars now warped into grotesque, blackened shapes. Melted frames, tires long gone, the whole thing a graveyard of what used to scream money. His fists clenched at his sides, the reinforced leather creaking faintly. He barely noticed. Behind him, the murmurs of his captains pressed against his focus. "They''re fucking kids, yeah, but they gotta know this shit ain''t light?" Wesley''s voice came first, gravelly and too casual for the mess they were standing in. He sounded like he was asking about the weather, not a gang war. "Don''t add up. Triad''s too calculated for this." "It''s a statement," Joon''s tone followed, smooth and measured, the kind of calm that made everything else feel louder. "they didn''t expect to win. they expected to send a message." "No shit," Seo growled, irritation bleeding through every word. "The question is, who''s the message for? Us, or¡ª" "Lower your voices." Jonouchi cut through, sharp, precise, like a slap. "The Tenryu hasn''t said a word." Greg didn''t react, in his own head. It took me minutes to get here. His eye twitched. Minutes. Minutes for their base to be wrecked to shit. He let their voices fade, his attention fixed on the barricade of Hummers that Seo told him had once stood defiantly across the street. Now, all that remained was a twisted pile of scrap metal. Bright yellow-clad firefighters swarmed the scene, trying to smother the stubborn flames that refused to die. This is what they wanted. The thought sat in the back of his head, heavy and sour. It didn''t want to leave. His gut churned as his eyes dragged upward, away from the wreckage and back to the street. nothing but chaos. cleanup crews moving like ants, bright jackets flashing as they worked around the mess. The talk behind him softened but didn''t stop. Still there, quieter now, like they knew he wasn''t tuned in but couldn''t help themselves. Greg turned anyway. His gaze shifted to them¡ªhis captains¡ªfor the first time tonight. The costumes should''ve stood out. It was the first time he''d seen them like this, all suited up and ready for war. But between everything else going on tonight, they barely registered. Seo leaned against the rooftop railing, arms crossed tight. If someone didn''t know better, they''d think he looked relaxed. Greg did know better. The white tactical jacket clung to him, black tiger stripes stretching over his shoulders and down his sleeves. Flashes of light caught on his mask¡ªa polycarbonate design, sharp-edged and sleek, with a tiger''s face etched into it. It should''ve been impressive, something you couldn''t look away from, but it pissed Greg off. It hid too much. Couldn''t see Seo''s expression. Couldn''t see the jaw clenching, the brows furrowed. But the tension was there, thick and sharp, like another person standing next to him. "You think the PRT''ll be back?" Wesley asked, his voice cutting through the quiet. He stood there, the massive sledgehammer resting casually across his shoulder. Joon snorted, soft and dismissive. "They''ve got enough on their plate without us. Just more gang violence ¡ª they''d rather we kill each other off." "That''s exactly what it is," Seo muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "Only difference is, we''re the target." Wesley jabbed back, tone lighter than the situation deserved. "PRT cleared out fast. I don''t think they liked what they saw." Joon answered before Seo could. "Neither did the cops. They don''t stick around when they''re out of their depth." "They don''t give a shit about our turf unless there''s a cape to bring in," Seo growled. "That''s the only reason they left without asking questions." Jonouchi''s voice cut through the rest, calm and precise, like it was the final word. "They have made it clear we are not their priority. Simple." Greg''s eyes flicked over to them again, landing on the biggest of the group. Wesley. He stood there, towering like a wall, the sledgehammer slung over one shoulder as if it weighed nothing. The bright red of his sleeveless armored motorcycle jacket was loud¡ªtoo loud against the black trim¡ªbut it suited him in the worst way. His broad shoulders caught the firelight, muscles casting heavy shadows that only made him look bigger. And the helmet. Of course. The visor reflected the distant flames, glowing faintly as he shifted. Greg felt the familiar tug of irritation, the urge to roll his eyes bubbling up even in the middle of this mess. Of course Wesley picked the loudest colors possible. Joon stood near the edge of the group, looking way too polished for the scene they were in. everything about him screamed tactical catalog cover model¡ªclean-cut, spotless. His black-and-blue jacket didn''t even have a speck of dust on it, the sharp lines of the fabric somehow standing out against the chaos around them. Matching gloves hung loosely behind his back, like he was waiting for someone to shake hands with. Then there was the mask. angular, sharp-edged, and entirely blue, it hid his face but not the energy he carried. Composed, straight-backed, like this was a corporate meeting and not a post-apocalyptic street fight. Greg tried to figure out how the hell the guy pulled that off. Finally, Jonouchi stood off to the side, just far enough to make it feel like he wasn''t really part of the group but still watching everything. The golden dragon etched into his mask gleamed faintly whenever the light hit it, the design carrying over to his sleeveless black jacket. It looked deliberate, like everything about him¡ªpracticed intimidation that made it impossible to tell if he was about to strike or just stand there forever. His movements were small, disciplined, conserving energy even now. The yellow-tinted visor covering his eyes gave him a predator''s look, gleaming faintly as his head turned toward the skyline. Greg exhaled softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. They''re leaning into this whole cape aesthetic harder than I thought. His gaze flicked between them again, the polished, intimidating uniforms somehow fitting perfectly against the aftermath around them. Looks good, though. Better than I expected for only a week in. Below, the last of the fires finally gave up, the flames replaced by thick trails of smoke winding into the night sky. a few civilians lingered behind the barricades cops had set up earlier. Their voices were low, hushed whispers barely audible over the sounds of the cleanup crews. Greg''s gaze drifted upward, past the wreckage and toward the skyline. The faint lights of the city stretched out endlessly, blurring into the haze above the horizon. "Boss." Seo''s voice cut through the quiet, low and steady as he stepped closer. Greg didn''t look at him, keeping his eyes on the city lights. "We need to talk." Greg''s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn''t answer right away. The wreckage below told the story well enough: the gangs working together, their capes backing them up. The message wasn''t subtle. "They want to do business in the bay," Greg said finally. He turned his head just enough to meet Seo''s gaze through the faint glow of his own mask. "And they are willing to work with us?" Seo nodded, his stance shifting slightly, arms still crossed as if bracing for something. "That''s what they said." Greg let the silence stretch for a moment, his gaze flicking back to the skyline. A hard frown tugged at the corner of his mouth, hidden beneath the mask. "Yeah, no. Fuck that." Grief 7.17a Grief 7.17a ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg leaned against the steel railing of the elevated command platform, one arm folded, the other tapping a slow, absent rhythm against the metal. his foot rested on the lowest rung, shifting his weight slightly as he took in the warehouse below. The place smelled like fresh paint and new insulation; clean, artificial, a weird contrast to the usual mix of salt, oil, and distant exhaust that rolled in from the docks. It looked brand new. polished concrete floors, steel support beams running up to the high, vaulted ceiling, neat rows of overhead led strips cutting the space into clean angles of shadow and light. "Damn, G." Sparky stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, head tilted back as he scanned the ceiling like it personally offended him. His black circular sunglasses caught the white glow of the lights, reflections flickering across its surface. "How''d they get this done so fast, brah? We were just here, like, what, three days ago?" Greg smirked, his fingers tapping a sharp little beat against the rail. "Amazing what happens when you''ve got money, huh?" Sparky groaned, running a hand down his face before turning back to Greg. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, you shit gold or whatever," he muttered, barely lowering his voice. "Still, fuckin'' wild, though." Greg shrugged, brushing imaginary dirt off his blue t-shirt. "Glennn''s got a whole team. They would''ve wrapped it up even faster, but he had to do orientation for the new workers in the company that bought out his renovation business." Sparky squinted at him. "New company?" "Yeah. Black Turtle Construction," Greg answered smoothly, mouth quirking up, but only just enough that it wasn¡¯t too obvious. "Pretty new. They do good work, though." Sparky blinked. "...Black Turtle?" "Black Turtle." "Black Turtle," Sparky repeated, slower, drawing the syllables out. Greg nodded, expression unreadable. "Black Turtle." "Black Turtle," Sparky tried again, narrowing his eyes like the words themselves were a puzzle or something. "Black Turtle," Theo said, flat. Greg and Sparky turned in unison, eyes locking onto the third member of the conversation as he finally chimed in. Theo stood by the kitchen, a can of something fizzy and orange in his hand, silver eyes calm as ever. He looked between them like he¡¯d walked into a conversation about metaphysics and wasn¡¯t sure if they were joking. "I thought we were doing a bit," Theo said. Greg burst out laughing, the sound cutting through the open space, bouncing off steel and concrete. "I was!" he gasped, grinning. "Don¡¯t know what se?or grumpy pants over here was doing." Sparky folded his arms. "I was¡­ I was thinking about the name. It¡¯s¡­ familiar." he frowned, shaking his head, glasses shifting slightly. "I don''t know why, brah, it just is." Greg wiped an imaginary tear, shaking his head. "Really? ¡®cause sounded like you were just saying ¡®Black Turtle¡¯ over and over again." Clicking his tongue, Sparky shot him a flat look. "It was a process, man. Had to make sure I heard you right." Theo¡¯s gaze flicked between them. "Do you two rehearse this?" "No/Yes," they said at the same time, Sparky throwing Greg a look as their answers completely contradicted each other. Greg grinned before turning back to Theo. "One of us tells the truth. The other tells only lies." Theo didn¡¯t even blink. "Everything I know about you has you as the liar." Greg groaned, turning away dramatically, arms crossing as he tilted his head like he¡¯d just been deeply wronged. "Aw, come on, T-Dog. Why couldn¡¯t Sparky be the liar?" "He doesn''t¡ª" Theo cracked the can open with a soft tssk and took a casual sip before finishing, "¡ªand I quote¡ª¡®give a shit¡¯." Sparky exhaled sharply, amused despite himself. "Ha." "Shut up," Greg tossed over his shoulder, rolling his eyes before facing them properly. "Anyway, you¡¯ll love it here. New floors, training space, even had them put in a kitchen for all your little... food things." he gestured with a lazy hand toward the fully stocked restaurant-size-fridge, as if that explained everything. "It''s homey." Sparky snorted, tilting his head. "''Food things,''" he echoed, drawing out the syllables like they personally offended him. "Brah, maybe stop skipping English class." Greg grinned. "Never!" Theo stepped forward, scanning the warehouse with that same methodical focus he put into everything. his gaze moved from the padded training area to the reinforced windows, lingering a half-second longer on the polished steel of the railings before he finally spoke. "It''s... efficient." Greg finger-gunned at him immediately. "See? High praise from Mr. Minimalism." "Man, don¡¯t encourage him," Sparky muttered, flicking a glance at Theo like he expected better. Greg ignored that entirely, pushing off the railing and landing lightly on the floor a full story below without even bending down in a slight crouch. "Alright, let¡¯s do the tour proper." Sparky and Theo followed without hesitation, both of them landing with only slightly more effort than the bright-haired boy in charge. Talking the entire time, Greg led them across the open main area. The polished concrete was cool underfoot, rubber matting laid out in key sections. dimmable lighting, climate control, soundproofing¡ªevery inch of the space was practical, streamlined, exactly the kind of thing someone with resources and zero patience for inefficiency would put together. Greg had to admit, Glennn knew what he was doing. "This," Greg spread his arms, "is the main floor. High ceilings, industrial led lighting, climate control¡ªfully hidden in the ductwork, thank you very much¡ªplus multiple emergency exits behind false panels. Because, you know. Me." Theo gave him a look. "You do seem to have a habit of making enemies." Greg pressed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. "It''s not me making enemies, it''s the natural consequences of my winning personality." Sparky scoffed. "Nah, it''s the natural consequences of you running your mouth." Greg pivoted away from that with zero shame, marching toward the training area. "Moving on!" The padded flooring gave slightly underfoot, impact-resistant, and clearly built to take one hell of a beating. Wall-mounted mirrors were tucked behind sliding covers, gym equipment stored in sleek built-in cabinets. A trio of training dummies stood at the far end, looking way too ready to get absolutely wrecked. Sparky whistled low, running a hand over a pull-up bar. "Damn, this place is stacked." Greg grinned. "Hell yeah. free weights, agility space, even got reinforced mats so you can get body-slammed without shattering your spine. Mostly." Theo tilted his head. "Mostly?" Greg shrugged. "You might still break something. but, like, less likely now, and isn¡¯t that what really matters?" Theo exhaled through his nose. "Agreed." Greg clapped him on the back before leading them toward the command center, perched on an elevated platform overlooking the entire warehouse floor. Multiple monitors glowed soft blue, cables routed cleanly through professional-grade cable management. It was organized, ergonomic. Borderline suspicious, given who it belonged to. Wait¡­ Greg narrowed his eyes. Did I just roast myself? He tilted his head to the side a half-second later. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Sparky flopped into the chair, spinning once before stopping himself with a foot. "And this? This where you plot world domination?" Greg leaned over the console. "First of all, local domination. Tri-State Area first. Gotta start small, mi hermano. Second, it¡¯s for operational oversight. Monitors all entry points, security feeds, and comms. Also," he tapped the built-in cupholder with a straight face, "has a very nice coffee holder." The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. He let out a short laugh. "You can¡¯t be a proper superhero without beverage support." "Superhero, says the gang lord," Sparky drawled, dragging out the syllables just enough to make it annoying. "This is 100% villain energy, brah. You know it. I know it. Theo definitely knows it." Greg tilted his head. "Nah." Theo crossed his arms, gaze moving slow and methodical over the space, taking in details Greg barely gave a second glance.The soundproofing. The way every exit blended into the architecture like an afterthought. "This is absurdly high-end for a teenager¡¯s secret lair." Greg shrugged. "Glennn knows people. And those people know how to build cool shit." Theo¡¯s stare didn¡¯t waver. "Black Turtle." Greg grinned. "Black Turtle." Sparky¡¯s fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh, brows furrowed. "...Black Turtle." Greg clapped his hands together, pivoting before Sparky¡¯s brain could catch up. "Alright, next stop¡­ living space!" He led them past a partition, stepping into a section cut off from the main floor, soundproofing swallowing the shift in acoustics. Kitchen in one corner, clean, minimal. Microwave, mini-fridge, stovetop; enough to function, nothing fancy. Past that, a real bathroom, with a locker-room style full shower, plumbing and all, because Greg wasn¡¯t about to live in some grimy half-baked setup. Across the room, storage space for civvies and extra gear. Against the far wall, three Murphy beds, ready to fold out when needed. Sparky let out a low whistle. "Shit, man, you really thought of everything." Greg grinned. "You think I never planned out a base before I got powers?" Sparky flopped onto the couch like it had personally called him over, stretching his arms behind his head. "Ayy, this is nice. So what, this your new official HQ now?" Greg leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as he tried not to think back to the previous night. "Something like that. More of a private home away from home." Theo sat down in one of the armchairs, fingers steepled, silver eyes sharp. "And what¡¯s the purpose of all this?" Greg tilted his head. "Purpose?" "You don¡¯t build something like this just to hang out," Theo said. "What''s it for?" The question settled in the space, heavier than it should¡¯ve been. Greg¡¯s eyes flicked over the room¡ªhis space. Every inch of it built with purpose. Reinforced. Secured. Structured. Designed so nothing could reach him unless he wanted it to. He exhaled through his nose. "It''s my control center." Theo studied him. Sparky cracked one eye open. Greg rolled his shoulders, letting the tension settle somewhere between amusement and inevitability. "Gotta have a place where you¡¯re the one setting the rules, y¡¯know?" Sparky hummed, voice slower now, thoughtful. "Huh. that¡¯s¡­ actually kinda deep." Greg flopped onto the couch next to him, grinning. "I have my moments." His fingers tapped an absent rhythm against the leather armrest, working to keep his expression straight. This was fun. The stress still sat heavy in his jaw, the past few days pressing into his skull, but this? This was therapy. The other night still ghosted through his head. Smoke and shattered glass, the ringing in his ears. Two gangs clawing at his city like rats, thinking they could carve out a piece for themselves. Thinking they could walk in to his house, set their own rules. That lightning bastard and that fire fucker, Greg kept his expression flat, rage suppressed as he did his best to keep his eyes from changing. They¡¯ve got another thing fucking coming, he thought. And it¡¯s my foot up their combined assholes. But right now, the only fight that mattered was the one playing out in Sparky¡¯s brain, and Greg was enjoying every second of watching him suffer through the slow, painful process of realization. Sparky¡¯s brows furrowed, sunglasses slipping just slightly down the bridge of his nose. "Wait..." his face twisted in realization, like he was just coming to terms with some sort of existential horror. "Black fucking Turtle." Or that. it could be that too. Greg turned, expression carefully blank. "Yeah, we¡¯ve been over this, bro. Bit¡¯s kinda dead." Sparky pointed a finger straight at his face, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. "No." Greg blinked. "No?" "No." Sparky took a step forward, triumphant. "I remember now. I remember why that¡¯s so fuckin¡¯ familiar." Amusement curled in Greg¡¯s chest, slow and warm, like watching someone walk into a trap they set for themselves. He tilted his head, voice deliberately light and fake, just this side of condescending. "Because, and stay with me here, it¡¯s the name of the company I just mentioned?" Theo let out a quiet snort. Sparky let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Don¡¯t pull that shit with me. You¡¯re not getting me off track this time." Greg arched a brow. "Did I do that before?" "Yes!" Greg hummed, lips quivering as he held his laugh tight. "Yeah. Yeah, I did do that." Theo¡¯s lips twitched, the faintest flicker of amusement betraying him before he schooled his expression back to neutral. Sparky exhaled sharply, like he was physically forcing himself to focus. his fingers tapped a jittery rhythm against his thigh, the mental math of realization playing out across his face. "Black Turtle¡­ you wouldn¡¯t happen to¡­ own that company, would you?" Greg blinked, perfectly blank. "Why would you think that?" Sparky¡¯s eye twitched. "Don¡¯t." "No, seriously, I just don¡¯t get it." Sparky made a strangled noise, dragging both hands down his face, like he could physically wipe away the migraine forming. After a slow inhale, he finally spoke. "Okay. Fine. It¡¯s just weird that some random company named after a mythological chinese creature is coincidentally handling all your renovations." Greg shrugged. "Why would that be weird?" Sparky narrowed his eyes, slow, suspicious. "¡®Cause it seems like some shit you¡¯d do. You¡¯d think it was funny or something. You know how you do." Greg beamed, bright and entirely unrepentant. "I do know how I do. That''s why I did it." Sparky¡¯s sunglasses slipped down his nose as he stared, disbelief settling into his face. "What." "It''s my company." Greg gestured vaguely, like this wasn¡¯t new information. "Obviously." Sparky gawked at him. "You just said it wasn¡¯t!" Greg gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "No, all I did was ask why you thought it was mine. I''d never lie to you like that, bro." Theo coughed into his fist. It wasn¡¯t, in any way, a real cough. Sparky lowered his sunglasses fully, pinning Greg with a long, flat look. "It''s your company." Not a question. Greg grinned, all teeth. "Yeppers." Theo exhaled slowly, leaning forward a little. "Would you also happen to own Blue Dragon Financial?" His grin widened, stretching at the corners. "Also me." Sparky¡¯s mouth dropped open. "Blue Dragon Fina¡ª" "And Red Hawk Security?" Theo interrupted smoothly. Greg nodded, as if this was the most normal conversation in the world. "Also me." Theo pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, slow and deliberate. "I suppose White Tiger Temporary Employment Services doesn¡¯t even need to be asked." Greg shook his head, expression suddenly confused. "Nah, that one''s not me." Theo¡¯s fingers paused mid-adjustment. "Oh." Sparky blinked. Theo nodded once, controlled. "I just ass¡ª" He caught himself mid-word, expression unreadable as he took another measured breath. "And you are messing with me." Greg¡¯s grin sharpened, fingers flicking into effortless finger guns. Theo had almost caught up, but not quite. "Look who¡¯s catching on, Theo. Of course it¡¯s fucking me." Sparky dragged his hands down his face again, muttering something incomprehensible under his breath before inhaling like he was prepping for the worst. "I''m gonna regret this, but why?" The butter blond stretched, rolling his shoulders like he was settling in. "Well, a lot of people are out of work because the city doesn¡¯t trust people of Asian descent... for some reason..." He let the words hang, gesturing vaguely, before snapping his fingers. "So I employ the roughnecks who can fight and hold a hammer, the smart alecks who can handle a computer, and the ones who are good with numbers. I¡¯m doing good things here, Sparks." Sparky squinted. "I don¡¯t buy it." Greg shrugged. "There¡¯s also the fact that it¡¯s a very bad idea to betray the guy who signs your paychecks. Especially when that paycheck is coming from a gang." He grinned. "Making entire families feel loyal to me, basically looking toward me as the one guy looking out for them, means that I¡¯m basically pulling a Lyndon B. Johnson." Sparky¡¯s face went through an entire process¡ªconfusion, realization, horror. Finally, he spoke. "I can¡¯t believe you paid attention in history." Greg tilted his head, smirking. "Didn¡¯t wanna have to repeat it." Sparky narrowed his eyes slightly, shaking his head. "You do know he was racist, right?" Greg shrugged. "Yeah, but I¡¯m not." Silence. Sparky sighed. "...You¡¯re not seeing the gates of Heaven, brah." Greg snorted, interlocking his hands behind his head in the classic anime protagonist pose. "I dunno, I feel like Heaven might be Chinese." Theo groaned, pressing a hand to his chest. "My chest hurts." Greg burst into laughter, the sound bouncing off the steel beams. God, this was fun. Rebuilding Brockton Bay: A Look at the Citys Rising Stars in Business In the aftermath of the Azn Bad Boyz¡¯ horrifying acts of terror, Brockton Bay has been left with scars that may never fully heal. The chaos unleashed by this pan-Asian gang disrupted every aspect of our lives, from the economy to public safety, leaving a cloud of distrust and unease that will take years to dissipate. However, in a surprising turn, the city¡¯s Asian community has been working hard to rebuild and rebrand itself in the wake of this destruction. Several new businesses have emerged, aiming to contribute to our city¡¯s recovery and show that they, too, can play a role in bettering Brockton Bay.
  • White Tiger Staffing Agency has quickly become an essential resource for many residents struggling in the aftermath of the ABB¡¯s rampage. This business specializes in connecting workers¡ªprimarily from Brockton Bay¡¯s Asian neighborhoods¡ªwith short-term employment opportunities. Whether it¡¯s warehouse labor, office temp work, or construction jobs, White Tiger has proven effective in filling the gaps left by the ABB¡¯s economic chaos. It¡¯s heartening to see this level of industriousness coming from a community that, in the past, has often seemed disconnected from the broader city.
  • Red Hawk Enforcement, headquartered in Brockton Bay¡¯s Asian districts, is another example of this newfound focus on responsibility and public service. Red Hawk works alongside the police to maintain order in neighborhoods that were once ABB strongholds, helping to prevent a resurgence of lawlessness. Their efforts to instill a sense of discipline and safety in these areas are encouraging, showing that perhaps, with the right structure and leadership, these parts of the city can become stable and even respectable.
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  • Blue Dragon Financial Firm, located at 227 Merchant Street in Downtown Brockton Bay, has been making waves in the financial sector. Positioned as a boutique advisory service, Blue Dragon focuses on helping small businesses¡ªmany of them Asian-owned¡ªsecure loans, manage debt, and find stability in uncertain times. Their professionalism and drive are admirable, and it¡¯s clear that this business understands the value of hard work and calculated planning. This kind of effort bodes well for the Asian community¡¯s ability to integrate into the city¡¯s economic landscape in a meaningful way.
  • Black Turtle Construction has taken on the monumental task of rebuilding Brockton Bay¡¯s damaged infrastructure. From homes in the Sunken Quarter to repairing the battered docks, this company is making visible contributions to the city¡¯s recovery. By hiring local workers and focusing on areas hit hardest by the ABB¡¯s destruction, Black Turtle demonstrates a commendable commitment to the broader community. It¡¯s encouraging to see such a focus on collaboration and hard work, traits that, when consistently applied, can help change perceptions.
These businesses are part of what some are calling a new era for Brockton Bay¡¯s Asian community, one defined by progress and accountability. While many residents remain understandably cautious, given the city¡¯s history with the Azn Bad Boyz and other pan-Asian criminal networks, these businesses represent a step in the right direction. They show that this community is capable of pulling itself up and contributing meaningfully to the betterment of the city. However, it¡¯s important to remember that actions speak louder than words, and true change takes time. The Asian community has much to prove if it wants to regain the trust of the city as a whole. Businesses like White Tiger, Red Hawk, Blue Dragon, and Black Turtle are a promising start, showing that perhaps, with the right effort, this group can become not just a part of Brockton Bay, but a valued and respected contributor to its future. Grief 7.17b Grief 7.17b ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, all ten fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against both his biceps. The metal was cool through his t-shirt, grounding, but not enough. Everything else felt too loose, too stretched thin, like his body couldn¡¯t decide if it was floating or sinking. His head was full. Too full. Hours of just standing here hadn¡¯t helped. Neither had staring at nothing while Theo meditated and Sparky flipped through reruns of cape bullshit with the kind of glazed-over focus that said his brain had fully checked out. They¡¯d kept their distance, mostly. Quiet glances when they thought he wouldn¡¯t notice. Like they were waiting. A few feet away, Sparky sprawled across the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent, sunglasses down just far enough on his nose to suggest he wasn¡¯t actually watching the screen anymore. Theo sat cross-legged on the floor, unmoving, expression blank, but Greg had been around him long enough to know he wasn¡¯t just zoning out¡ªhe was thinking. Waiting. Greg¡¯s fingers stilled. Mercs had been one thing. That was his mess. His problem. Theo and Sparky had gotten caught up in the crossfire, yeah, but they hadn¡¯t been the target. This? This was different. Gangs didn¡¯t play by the same rules. They didn¡¯t come at you in clean, predictable ways. Didn¡¯t move in straight lines. Didn¡¯t stop when the job was over. Gang shit meant debts, alliances, grudges that stretched back years, whole families dragged under because some asshole didn¡¯t know when to let a grudge go. It meant people getting pulled into something without ever realizing how deep they were in until it was too late. It means you got them into this. His jaw locked as the thought rudely poked its way onto his train tracks. Sparky let out a quiet snort at something on screen, shifting like he was getting comfortable again. Theo didn¡¯t move. Greg exhaled slow, the sound barely audible beneath the low hum of the warehouse. ¡°¡­Sparks.¡± Sparky turned his head lazily, one hand adjusting his black round Matrix sunglasses. ¡°Hm?¡± Greg jerked his chin at the TV ¡°Mind cutting that off for a sec?¡± Sparky sighed, rolling his eyes as he fumbled for the remote, flicking the screen off. Greg looked at Theo. ¡°Theo.¡± No movement at first. Then, a small shift as a pair of silver eyes turned his way ¡°Yes.¡± Not even a question, just acknowledging his name. Greg raised both his eyebrows quickly and tilted his head. ¡°Mind scooching over?¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Theo blinked once. Without saying a word, his godbrother unfolded himself, his movements lazy in a way that said his mind was still on something else and made his way over to both Greg and Sparky. Greg pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders. Alright. Time to deal with this. He dragged a breath in, fingers pressing against his temples before dropping back to his sides. Once. Twice. Then he blinked, forcing himself to meet their eyes as they stared at him like he was crazy. Well, at least Sparky did. He chose to ignore it. "You know how I said I don''t lie to you guys?" Sparky barely waited half a second before shooting back, "Vaguely, yeah. That sounds familiar." The way he said it, the way his glasses tilted just slightly as he watched Greg, made it clear enough that he didn¡¯t really believe it. The sarcasm in his voice was just window dressing, a buffer for the part of him that was already running calculations, already waiting for Greg to just come out with whatever bullshit that would get on his nerves. Greg didn¡¯t sigh, but he wanted to. Instead, he shifted his attention to Theo. Theo, as always, took his time. "I don''t believe you lie so much as you simply don¡¯t tell the full truth," he said, frowning slightly, like he was working through the phrasing even as he spoke. "Or anything at all, if it¡¯s not necessary. Truthfully, it all depends on your views regarding lies of omission." Greg nodded absently, only half-listening. "Yeah¡­ thing is, I feel like I might have done the opposite of that." Sparky squinted. "Huh?" "Not omission. Emission." Greg waved a vague hand, like the motion might help him find the words. "I feel like I''ve told you too much." Sparky''s expression twisted like someone had just handed him a raw onion with the expectation that he bite into it. "...I don''t think that word works like that." Greg shrugged. "Either way. I shouldn''t have told you a bunch of things." Golden eyes narrowed as Sparky finally took his sunglasses off entirely, pocketing the things as he fixed Greg with a glare. "What things?" The blond let out a slow hiss, rolling his jaw. Words didn¡¯t sit right in his mouth, thoughts didn¡¯t sit right in his head but¡­ "Things like¡­ gang shit. The gang shit." "Wha¡ª" "It was bad enough dealing with the Empire, you know?¡± Greg cut in, well before Sparky could start picking up steam for a rant he wasn¡¯t ready for. ¡°We weren¡¯t even doing anything about them." Theo raised an eyebrow. Greg exhaled, already feeling the rebuttal coming. "We weren¡¯t. I was doing shit about them," he amended. He glanced off to the right, arms loose at his sides, fingers flexing like they wanted something to hold onto. "But these gangs¡­ the new ones, the ones from out of town, they¡¯re not¡­" he frowned at the words, unsure of how to break the full news. "They¡¯re moving differently than I expected. Than we expected." Theo didn¡¯t hesitate. "You forced an escalation, didn¡¯t you?" Greg¡¯s head snapped up, bright blue eyes widening as they locked onto his godbrother¡¯s placid face like heatseeking missiles. "How did y¡ª" "CapeWatch reported use of powers and gunfire in formerly ABB-held territory last night,¡± Theo answered the question before it was fully formed. Greg frowned. Afternoons spent scrolling, refreshing, skimming through updates on every fight in the city and well outside it came back to mind. CapeWatch was basically just a glorified PHO subforum ¡ª with map pinning and better video hosting ¡ª where nerds posted their sightings, but at least the mods weren¡¯t draconian dumbasses. Better than the main boards, where every other post was some kid swearing they¡¯d totally seen Alexandria at a Dunkin¡¯ Donuts. "And?" Theo stared back. "Lightning and fire reported. Sightings that match the bosses of both gangs you¡¯ve informed us of." Greg shut his mouth, teeth meeting teeth with an audible click as he winced. Sparky, on the other hand, stood up straight so fast it was almost like someone had yanked his strings. "Wait, they fucking teamed up?" Greg almost sighed but he caught himself. He''d meant to break this news slowly. "Logically," Theo mused, voice smooth, careful. "But they haven¡¯t openly attacked you before now, correct?" Greg exhaled through his nose. "Correct." "Yet everything you¡¯ve done to them has been¡­ instigative." Theo paused. "Simply put, you shot first." Greg dragged a hand through his hair. "Also correct." "Which raises an important question. If their merger happened before arriving in Brockton Bay, then you¡¯re simply unfortunate." Theo¡¯s tone remained neutral, almost amused. "But if it happened after¡­" "Then I forced it," Greg finished. According to Seo, it was unlikely they¡¯d merged before coming to Brockton Bay. No matter what they said, there had been too many clashes in the weeks leading up to them actually showing up for that to be the case. They might¡¯ve considered it, but losing their capes and that many bodies? That would¡¯ve forced a decision real quick. So, yeah. Apparently, he was just too badass like that. "You¡¯re such a fucking idiot," Sparky muttered. Greg let out a slow breath. "So, it¡¯s my fault for styling on these guys? That it?" "Yes," Theo said, without hesitation. Ouch. Expected that one from Sparky. Et tu¡­ "Look," Greg started, rolling his shoulders, "blame whoever you want¡ª" "You," Sparky deadpanned. That¡¯s more like it. Greg ignored him. "The simple thing here is, I don''t want you guys thinking you have to get involved." "We don''t have to do anything but eat, shit, and die," Sparky shot back. "Wow," Theo muttered. Sparky shrugged. "We¡¯re gonna help you, dumbass. Because we¡¯re your friends." ¡°Because you¡¯re family,¡± Theo continued. He closed his mouth, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest. ¡°...guys, I-¡± ¡°And as long as you¡¯re around, my parents will always be happy I¡¯m not as bad as you,¡± Sparky finished. Theo nodded slowly, agreeing with that part as well. Greg let his eyes close for a second. No¡­ no, still a warm moment. He exhaled with a snort and let the tension bleed off. It didn¡¯t take all the weight with it, but at least he could pretend. "Yeah," he said, quieter, but solid. "Yeah. Thanks, guys." Sparky just folded his arms while Theo, unreadable as ever, tilted his head slightly. Greg shook himself out of it, rolling his shoulders. "C¡¯mon. I¡¯m hungry. Let¡¯s get some food." Sparky¡¯s mouth opened¡ªGreg already knew what was coming. "Yes," he cut in, tilting his head. "It¡¯s Chinese. All you can eat. My treat." Sparky shut his mouth, then nodded, slow and deliberate. Greg squinted. "Was that supposed to be Theo?" "Who''s to say," Sparky murmured. Theo made a noise in his throat, something between amused and disapproving. ¡°C¡¯mon, I need some orange chicken!¡± Sparky turned and rushed up to the warehouse doors, his boots echoing over the concrete. He grabbed the handle and pulled. Greg shifted his weight, already following behind him. And then¡ª A shudder, deep at the base of his skull, wrong, a fire alarm in his bones. His mouth opened. "Sparky!" His body moved before his mind caught up. Muscles locked as he shot forward. His palms hit Sparky¡¯s chest and he pushed¡ªweight barely registering as his friend went flying back, wide-eyed, arms flailing. Thunder. A crack of heat, white-hot¡ª Pain. Sudden. Electric. It tore through his skull, burned, split, hollowed him out. "GRE¡ª!¡± ¡ª ¡ª Grief 7.18 Grief 7.18 (this is from Greg''s fucked up mental perspective) ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? nothing. then¡ª everything. something breaking. inside, not outside. a crack, a split, a wrongness buried deep in the meat of his skull. behind his eye. inside his brain. a firework punched into his head and then lit¡ªnot sparks, not light, just the flash of something splintering apart, burning too hot to hold itself together. pain. blinding. crushing. everything wrong. heat. thick and pulsing, running down his face, into his mouth, his nose. hot metal flooding his tongue, suffocating, searing the back of his throat. breathing around it, through it, made something rattle in his ribs, like his whole body was shaking apart from the inside. his limbs¡ªhis limbs¡ªtoo heavy, slow, sluggish in a way that made no sense. thick syrup clogging his muscles, tendons misfiring, signals scattering and looping back on themselves. too much. not enough. his fingers curled in against his palm, but they didn''t feel like his fingers. dripping. warm. wrong. up. something was touching him. no. grabbing. no no no no no. voices. wrong. garbled, shredded, pitch bending up, down, sideways, warping too much, shifting between too high, too low, twisting around itself like a radio signal flickering between stations. sharp bursts, low hums, static. a chorus of not-quite-words, screaming inside his skull, bouncing off the raw edges of something that wasn''t supposed to be touched. pressure. hands. no. forced down, pushed, weight sinking into his shoulders, his back. trapped. no no no no no. something in his chest clawed its way up his throat, the raw scrape of a snarl that never made it past his teeth. his tongue felt thick, foreign, too much blood and too much metal rolling over the taste of something deep and burnt. drowning. movement. his. not his. his body jerked, the motion all wrong, angles too sharp, weight shifting where it shouldn''t. instincts firing off the wrong way, like his own muscles were fighting him. but he was strong. still strong. even through the static, the dragging slowness, the scrambled weight of his own limbs¡ªhe had strength. enough. enough to move. enough to rip free. the weight against him buckled. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. figures. two. blurred, shifting, their edges bleeding into the red-black haze flooding his vision. one rounder, solid, wrapped in something soft, colors warping, twisting. the other lean, dark, lines too sharp beneath black fabric, angles wrong. they¡ª their mouths moved. fast. too fast. lips pulling back, teeth flashing, words spilling too quick, crashing together, falling apart before they reached him. not words. not speaking. just noise. he blinked. warmth ran down his face, thick and wet, slipping over his lips, coating his tongue. copper. salt. wrong. wrong. his vision swam, the world smeared sideways, shapes dragging like someone had taken a brush and painted the light too far. lines stretched, bent, twisting where they shouldn''t. hands. on him. too much. too close. run. he shoved. his arms weren''t moving right¡ªtoo slow, too stiff, like he was dragging them through mud. but he was strong. still strong. the pressure ripped away, weight flying off of him, bodies staggering back. gone. gone. gone. he lurched forward, legs locking, unlocking, balance half-there, half-vanishing, the world tilting on an axis he couldn''t feel. the door¡ª open. gone. cold slapped against him, sharp and wet in the night air, sticking to the blood slicked across his face. an orange sky. run. his body moved, even if his brain hadn''t caught up. instincts yanked the strings, something deeper than thought, louder than pain, louder than the static screaming in his skull. find it. hunt it. kill it. something had hurt him. and it wasn''t finished. his feet hit the pavement harder than they should, the force rolling up his legs, locking his spine, hammering through his bones. muscles fired wrong, steps jerky, unnatural, but even like this, he was fast. air howled past his ears, the world tearing at the edges, concrete splintering beneath every step. his balance lurched, tilted too hard to the right, but stopping wasn''t an option. stopping meant dying. his head snapped up, something in his chest surging, instincts locking, locking, there¡ª above. high. dark blue and black, barely distinct against the skyline, perched. watching. not far enough. a gun. pointed at him. wide eyes. his lips curled, breath clawing its way up his throat, sharp and ragged, too big for his lungs, too small for the hunger curdling in his ribs. mine. he moved. the ground shattered. Cutscene: Tangent Cutscene: Tangent ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Tangent saw it coming. Just barely. The light shifted in a way it shouldn''t have¡ªtoo fast, too hot, the wrong shade of orange. Reflex over analysis. He glanced up from his perch, caught the flicker through the upper warehouse window. Fire. Wide as a wave, rolling hard and fast toward the building, already eating up the air. No time. His body moved before his brain caught up, pushing off the back of his chair, boot hitting the crate stack in a perfect angle, a launch point, a clean rebound. His power wasn''t teleportation. He didn''t blink out and land somewhere safe. No neat vanishing trick. He had to work for it. Velocity, trajectory, impact. The right physics to snap himself from here to anywhere else in one fluid move. One second too slow and he''d be gone like the rest of them. Instead, he was airborne, body twisting as he ricocheted off an unseen angle, snapping forward through the collapsing warehouse frame and landing two rooftops away, shoulder rolling to disperse the force. The heat washed over his back a fraction of a second later, fire blooming outward as the whole place went up. Glass, metal, bodies. Five in. One out. He exhaled through his nose, slow and even, adjusting his balance as the shockwave rumbled underfoot. There was supposed to be a plan. A setup. His target was a kid¡ªfifteen, maybe sixteen, just barely over five and a half feet, lean. The job had been about control. They were going to go after the mother first. Use her as leverage. Rattle him, get him sloppy. Make him feel the fear before they finished it. But the kid hadn''t played along. Hadn''t hesitated. Hadn''t spoken. He''d just killed them. It hadn''t been a fight. A fight meant some back and forth, some effort. This was something else. Tangent exhaled again, rolling the tension out of his shoulders, checking the way his hands sat steady at his sides. Slique had called it his gig. The guy was an idiot. Already fucked the job twice over, burned intel, burned resources, left loose ends. This wasn''t his gig. It was Tangent''s. He was the only one with the range to do it right, and now he was the only one left to see it through. That wasn''t a kid, though. Kids didn''t have that much conviction. Weren''t that heartless. That was a decision, already made. A straight line from start to finish, no hesitation, no detours. The kind of thing that stayed in your head long after the job was done. So yeah. He wasn''t leaving it undone. ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? NOW Tangent exhaled slow, even. Adjusted his grip on the pistol. Weight familiar, solid in his palm. The second the trigger broke, he knew. Hit. Clean. Through and through. A perfect shot. High-caliber, precision round, straight through the skull. Wind resistance, bullet drop, distance¡ªnone of it mattered. He''d lined it up, waited, and squeezed. No wasted motion. No hesitation. No need for a second shot. His body had done what it was trained to do. He slung the rifle over his back, let it snap into the magnetic holster, and pulled out his phone. The warehouse doors were still shut. He switched the scope to camera mode, zoomed in. Took the shot. The kid''s head was a wreck. Blood, skull fragments, brain matter, all splattered out in a mess on the concrete. Good resolution. No distortion. Tangent sent the confirmation image. Thumb hovered over the screen for half a second before he pocketed the phone. That was it. Done. Except. Something was wrong. The sensation hit him before thought. Before logic. Before anything else. A full-body scream, primal and sharp, spine-deep in a way nothing should''ve been. Tangent listened to that feeling. Always had. Always would. It kept him alive. And right now, it was clawing at him, gnashing its teeth. Move. He did. Angle Shift. Pivot, push, bounce. He hit the rooftop''s edge, kicked off the gravel, snapped back midair. Landed on the next roof just as the warehouse doors slammed open. Something came out. Something wrong. Something that should be dead. Tangent skidded, eyes locking onto the figure below. The target. Standing. Moving. Bleeding. Blood soaked the right side of his head, a deep, viscous red trailing thick from the hole above his ear. Face painted in it, smeared down his jaw, soaking the collar of his shirt. His eyes¡ªglazed, unfocused. Empty. Not human. Tangent''s stomach went cold. He gritted his teeth, ripped the pistol from his holster, turned, ran. His boots hit the rooftop hard, wind cutting past his face, dragging at his jacket. The dockside air was thick, carrying the brine and rot of the waterfront, mixing with the copper bite of blood. Behind him, a sound. A growl, low and rough. The fucker was chasing him. Not just running. Hunting. Tangent didn''t slow. Didn''t hesitate. Vaulted over a rooftop ledge, hit the gravel rolling, came up on his feet with his arms locked and kept moving. The sniper flicked his wrist, snapped the sights in place. Breathe in. Squeeze. pop-pop-pop! Three shots, tight grouping, center mass. And the fucker didn''t even flinch. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Tangent''s gut twisted. No stagger. No recoil. The bullets punched through fabric, through skin, but the damage didn''t stick. Each shot ripped into the kid like tearing through wet paper, only for the holes to do jack shit in slowing him down. Not good. Not fucking good. Tangent gritted his teeth, shoving forward. Boots hit gravel, pushing hard, the docks a blur of rusting metal, weather-worn concrete, the sharp yellow glare of a busted streetlamp throwing his shadow long against the rooftop. Breath steady. Too steady. Shouldn''t be this fast, shouldn''t be this easy to stay on rhythm when every alarm in his body was screaming at him to get the fuck out. He''d made the shot. Had felt it. Same way a pitcher knew the second a fastball was clean. Same way a hunter knew before the deer dropped. Except now he was the one being hunted. Tangent forced his focus forward, flicked through every escape route in his head. Ahead, a vent. Rusted, half-collapsed. Good enough. He adjusted, bent his knees, and¡ª ¡ªjumped. Angle shift snapped him midair. No straight lines, no wasted motion, no dumb fucking mistakes. His body obeyed the physics, let the force carry him. Vent to ledge to pipe to rooftop. Fast. Practiced. Perfect. Except¡ª Pain. Jagged and real, searing up his ribs like a hot knife ripping through fabric and muscle. Tangent hit the gravel, rolled tight, came up fast, instinct firing on autopilot. Gun raised, eyes scanning. Didn''t need to check to know the damage. Something had clipped him. Deep enough to tear, shallow enough to keep moving. Claws? His mind latched onto the detail even as he moved, muscles shifting in the way only a man trained to ignore pain could. The injury meant jack shit. The real problem was behind him. It wasn''t moving right. Fast, yeah. Superhuman, sure. But the movements were still wrong. Too jerky. Too mechanical. Like a puppet with half the strings cut. Or half its skull popped. Tangent fired. Quick, sharp motions. Flicked his wrist, pulled the trigger, three shots tight to center mass¡ª No reaction. Again. His stomach twisted even as he kicked off. Angle shift. He let the momentum snap him forward, ricochet off a powerline pole, let the weight of the turn drive another bullet home. Hit. Still moving. Fuck. Another ricochet. Another twist of his body. Another bullet in the chamber. The thing was still on him. Legs burned, lungs worked in overdrive, but it didn''t matter. The fucker was still coming. Chasing. Hunting. There wasn''t hesitation, wasn''t thought behind it¡ªjust pure, raw instinct, a predator acting on something deeper than reason. Tangent clenched his jaw. Okay. Fine. You wanna play? Let''s fucking play. Tangent hit the rooftop, boots skidding against gravel, his body twisting on reflex. His pistol was already raised, already lined up, and the second the kid leapt¡ªsloppy, uneven, but still too fucking fast¡ªTangent fired. Twice. A graze. Not a miss. The bullet clipped its shoulder, ripped through skin, sent a spray of blood across the rooftop. No reaction. No stagger. Just a slight wobble in the trajectory, barely enough to matter. Tangent gritted his teeth, let his body move before his brain caught up. Angle shift. A sharp pivot, a twist, a push off the rooftop ledge, and he rebounded midair¡ª CRASH. A dull, meaty impact. Tangent landed, tucked into a tight roll, and turned just in time to see the blond hit the concrete of the roof hard. Messy landing. Too fast, too uncoordinated. He collapsed in a heap, limbs sprawled, the weight of his own force working against him. And he didn''t get up. Tangent exhaled, slow, deliberate. His ribs screamed. His side throbbed. He barely noticed. His eyes stayed locked on the heap of bloodied limbs, his pistol steady as he raised it again, this time with no rush, no hesitation. It was still moving. Sluggish. Disoriented. Not the same feral, wild thing from earlier. Something else. The kid''s head lifted, eyes unfocused, something slow and confused shifting across his face. Dazed. Almost... childlike. Tangent didn''t give a shit. He reloaded, the sharp click-click of the magazine snapping into place a dull comfort against the distant ringing in his ears. This job had gone to hell and back, but it didn''t matter. He was still walking away rich. He adjusted his grip, steadied his breathing, lined up the shot. This time, no mistakes. No interruptions. Just one last pull of the trigger. His finger curled¡ª CRACK. A sound like a sledgehammer to his chest. Tangent stumbled, breath hitching, something hot and wrong bursting behind his ribs. The world tilted. Vision swam. He made a sound¡ªraw, startled, barely human¡ªbefore his legs locked beneath him. Another shot. Another impact. He turned, body jerky, movements sluggish, eyes struggling to focus¡ª A girl. Blond. Purple suit. Newsboy cap tilted just so. Standing in front of what looked like a doorway in space, the edges flickering like static. Gun raised. "Sorry about this," she said, tone breezy and unbothered, like she hadn''t just put two fucking bullets in his chest. "Nothing personal. But he''s useful." She clicked her tongue, lips twitching into something not quite a smirk, not quite an apology. "You? Not so much." Tangent tried to move. Didn''t have time. The last thing he saw was the muzzle flash. Grief 7.19 Grief 7.19 ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C o ¨C? Greg¡¯s head hurt. Bad. Not like a punch. Not like a headache. Not like anything. It was big. Wide. Heavy. Like something inside was crushed, leaking out into everything else. He didn¡¯t know how to think about it. He didn¡¯t know how to think. His hands twitched. He was standing, but not standing right. Legs wrong. Feet wrong. Too soft. No, too hard. Something was wrong. He blinked. It took too long. His eyes opened again, and everything was¡­ different. Sharp and bright, but also messy. Colors too strong, edges too loose, like the world was smearing itself apart every time he moved his head. Something dripped down his cheek. Wet. Warm. Sticky. His fingers brushed against his temple, smearing red across his skin. Blood. His blood. Why? Greg¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out. Just a slow, heavy exhale. His body swayed, arms lifting too slow, like something was pulling them down. His knees locked up, then buckled, then locked again. Moving was hard. He was missing something. His brain was missing something. It sloshed in his skull, slow and thick, every thought heavy, like trying to run in water. Nothing stayed still. Think. He tried. Really tried. His lips pressed together, muscles in his face moving in ways that didn¡¯t feel right, like he was trying out an expression he hadn¡¯t used in a long time. There was someone here. Small. Blonde. Purple. His head twitched toward them. They were saying something. Their mouth was moving, but the words crashed into him sideways, sliding off before they could stick. His ears worked. He knew they worked. But the sounds weren¡¯t making sense. His fingers twitched. His brain twisted itself up, trying to pull the sounds apart, force them into something real. ¡°Hey there, bud,¡± the girl said, slow and sweet, like talking to a puppy. ¡°You probably can¡¯t understa¡ª¡± she stopped, blinked, and tilted her head. ¡°Wait. No. You should just be able to understand me right now.¡± If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Greg stared at her. His head pulsed. A deep, dragging throb behind his eyes. ¡°Look at you,¡± she cooed. ¡°Who¡¯s a big boy? You¡¯re a big, strong boy? Still standing, still moving. Even with your brain half out? Do you actually need that to survive? Did you need it before your powers?¡± Her shoulders moved up and down. ¡°Either way, impressive.¡± His jaw clenched. He didn¡¯t know why. The girl sighed, shifting her weight. Her eyes flicked sideways. ¡°Finally outside,¡± she murmured, stretching out her arms. ¡°God, fluorescent lights are the worst.¡± Greg twitched again. Her voice was wrong. Too soft. Too sharp. Familiar. No. Yes. No. His fingers curled, nails scraping against his palm. She knew him. Maybe. She was talking again, but he didn¡¯t hear it. Couldn¡¯t. The words got lost somewhere between her mouth and his ears. Something was dripping down his chin. More blood. He swayed on his feet, stomach twisting. Something about her face made his thoughts slip, made everything feel even more wrong. His eyes slid past her. There was something on the ground. He blinked, forcing his vision to focus. A shape. A person. Lying still. He knew what it was. He should know. His mind fought itself, trying to pull the pieces together, trying to make it real. Dead. A dead person. A dead body. Greg¡¯s breath hitched, fingers twitched, brain ached as his chest rose and fell, breaths coming too fast, too slow, all wrong. Something inside his head cracked, deep and jagged, like a splinter of ice digging into his skull. "You want the guy who sent him after you, right?" The girl¡¯s voice cut through the noise, smooth, light, like she wasn¡¯t standing in front of a half-dead kid with blood still dripping down his face. Her head tilted, a smirk playing at the edges of her mouth, but her eyes¡ªtoo sharp, too knowing¡ªwatched him carefully. "The guy who put the price on your head? Who gave them your mom¡¯s name?" Greg¡¯s breath stuttered. His brain lagged, tripping over itself, trying to put those words together, trying to make sense of them. They landed wrong, slipped sideways, but- That. That was¡ª Pain flared, twisting sharp and deep in his skull. His mouth opened before his brain caught up. ¡°Y-y-yes.¡± The word felt weird. Thick. Like it barely fit in his mouth. But the girl just nodded. ¡°Oooh, ominous.¡± As he felt his eyes narrow, the girl held a hand up for some reason. ¡°Alright, alright, relax, big guy. Can¡¯t have a little fun after you gave me a seizure, I guess.¡± She adjusted her cap before getting a bit more serious again. "His name is Coil. Real name Thomas Calvert." Coil. Greg¡¯s head throbbed. He did know that name. Didn¡¯t know it, know it, but something about it stuck, burrowed under his skin. The girl¡ªTattletale, his brain threw at him suddenly, like a puzzle piece snapping into place¡ªkept talking. He remembered her... the blond who was part of the villains with the giant dogs... after Lung... First time Lung... That was months ago. Greg tried to listen. "Tall guy, real dark skin, jaw that could cut glass," she listed off like she was going down a grocery list. "Long story short, you give him headaches. Not even bad ones, just mildly annoying. But he¡¯s a drama queen and can¡¯t stand when things don¡¯t go his way." She kept going, words slipping in and out of focus, sharp then distant. A car. A plate number. Something about mercs. About a highway. Boston. Greg¡¯s fingers twitched at his sides. "Lots more guesswork without getting to see the future pan out," she said, voice lilting into something almost amused. "But not important." His head hurt. Words drifted in and out, but his brain wasn¡¯t keeping up. Like he was running after something just out of reach, something just a little too fast. A flicker of white. Something landed at his feet. Greg¡¯s eyes dropped. A card. "In case you forget." His stomach twisted. Because she was right. His memory was slipping, trying to hold onto something that kept sliding through his fingers. He could feel it, the edges of it unraveling, fraying, pulling away. "I¡¯m gonna leave now,¡± Tattletale said with a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be as smart as a six-year-old in almost¡­ a minute.¡± She raised an eyebrow as she pulled what look like a pill from her jacket pocket and tossed it in her mout. ¡°Insane, right? I wish my brain worked like that. Either way, I¡¯d rather not get turned into charcoal when you have enough brainpower to get angry." She stepped back and away from him. "Door me." Greg flinched as space ripped. A black hole opened behind her, swallowing up the air around it, curling at the edges like paper burning. Tattletale adjusted her jacket, finally meeting his gaze. Her smirk had faded. "Good luck, Greg." Her voice was quieter. And softer as her eyes looked his way and spoke in a way that seemed downright sad. "And¡­ also, this whole thing¡­ it was kind of my idea, so¡­ I¡¯m really sorry for what¡¯s about to happen to you." She stepped through and vanished. Cutscene: Snake on the Lane Cutscene: Snake on the Lane Tap. Tap. Tap. Thomas Calvert¡¯s fingers drummed against the leather of the steering wheel. Rhythmic. Deliberate. Control manifested in movement. He let the sound fill the silence, let it settle beneath the steady hum of the highway. The vibrations of the engine. The low murmur of tires against asphalt. The world outside his vehicle existed in controlled chaos¡ªdarkened buildings flickering past, steel and glass catching passing light, nothing more than background noise. A sharp buzz against the center console drew his gaze downward. He didn¡¯t check immediately. Another glance in the rearview mirror¡ªthree black SUVs, perfectly spaced, precisely positioned¡ªthen, only then, did he tilt the screen toward himself. Attachment: 1 image. The man allowed himself the rare indulgence of a slow inhale. A quiet, restrained exhale. His jaw slackened by a fraction, the muscles in his shoulders unwinding by degrees. Finally. The sniper, Tangent, was competent. Expensive, but competent. A rarity in this line of work. Most mercenaries were blunt instruments¡ªuseful in application, but unreliable in execution. Parahumans? Even more so. But Tangent? Worth every cent. The photo was crisp, unmistakable: the boy sprawled in the warehouse entrance, half his head missing, gore soaking into the concrete. A clean kill. He deleted the image. No reason to keep it. No reason to doubt it. Text: Job done. Remainder in 1:25. He eased into his seat, fingers relaxing against the wheel. He hadn¡¯t realized how much tension had accumulated¡ªhow much effort it had taken to not act, to not escalate, to not do what should have been done weeks ago. He exhaled through his nose, slow, steady. This was order restored. The past month had been an exercise in calculated restraint, watching a carefully constructed empire unravel at the edges, all because a single overpowered, overambitious brat refused to acknowledge his own insignificance. It had been almost amusing, at first. A child throwing tantrums, breaking things, setting fires, convinced he was making a difference. But then, it had become irritating. Not because the boy was intelligent. He wasn¡¯t. He had no sense of long-term strategy, no understanding of the mechanisms that actually held power in this city. He wasn¡¯t a warlord, wasn¡¯t a tactician, wasn¡¯t anything but an accident waiting to happen, a barrier to his own goals. And yet, through sheer brute force and an absurd amount of luck, he had survived things that should have buried him. Should have. Not anymore. Coil let the thought settle, let the certainty of it soak in, solidify. He was done with this particular variable. His gaze flicked back to the rearview mirror. Three SUVs, moving in perfect formation, shielding his Mercury Executive from any potential threats. Unnecessary. A waste of resources. Coil exhaled again, this time sharper, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Cost was irrelevant in comparison to certainty. The boy had been an unknown quantity. Unknowns required overcompensation. Besides, he had bigger concerns now. Rebuilding. Reclaiming. Reestablishing himself in the cracks the boy had made in his empire. The Travelers had already aligned themselves with her¡ªan inconvenience, but not an insurmountable one. Assets could be reacquired. Investments could be replaced. Control, once lost, could always be retaken. His lips pressed into a thin line. It was, if anything, fortuitous that he had chosen this moment to take a bit of a break from Brockton Bay, a step back from active leadership for the lesser part of a month. Piggot had been more than willing to approve his request for leave¡ªof course she had. A shaken officer, seeking therapy for the trauma she had shared during Ellisburg? The emotional harridan of a woman had practically stumbled over herself to grant it. He almost wanted to laugh. But he didn¡¯t. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Instead, Coil¡¯s gaze dropped to the phone, a slight thought drawing his attention downwards. A half-second later, said thought became a bit more than slight. No read receipt. His fingers stilled. Odd. Mercenaries, as a rule, were creatures of habit. They did their job. They got paid. There was no artistry to it, no long-term vision¡ªjust transaction, execution, and, in the case of Tangent, an excessive price tag that should have bought efficiency. Competence. And yet, despite completing the job, despite the image that should have been his final proof of work, the man had yet to confirm receipt of the final installment. Coil tapped the screen once. No response. Again. Still nothing. A slow, creeping pressure settled in his ribs, tightening, familiar. He exhaled through his nose, deliberate, measured. There were a dozen reasonable explanations. Tangent securing his exit route. Tangent celebrating his payday with a moment of indulgence. Tangent being insufferable and making him wait longer than necessary out of some self-satisfied sense of power. Unlikely, but not impossible. And yet¡­ Coil¡¯s knuckles tensed against the steering wheel, then released just as quickly. The convoy moved smoothly through the darkened highway, SUVs maintaining precise distance, each a reinforced safeguard against potential interference. Everything under control. Everything accounted for. He pressed a button on the dashboard. The private channel opened. ¡°Blue, Red, White, Black. Report.¡± His voice remained steady, neutral, as if this were routine. Blue responded immediately, his words crisp and without hesitation. ¡°Traffic''s easing up. No tails, no hostiles. You¡¯ll be in Boston in an hour fifteen.¡± Red followed with a similar check-in. White echoed the same. Coil¡¯s fingers tapped once against the wheel, an idle movement, a habit. They¡¯d rather shoot civilians than botch a job, and the system in place ensured precision. They were professionals. There was no cause for concern. Then Black Team¡¯s channel crackled to life. ¡°Sir¡­¡± The voice on the other end wavered, the faintest yet audible hesitation threading through the static. ¡°Something¡¯s coming up fast.¡± Coil¡¯s spine went rigid. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I think it''s¡­ it¡¯s on fire.¡± For a fraction of a second, the words meant nothing. Meaningless data, an absurdity dressed in radio static. Then his stomach turned, a slow, sickening shift, because something in the man¡¯s tone was wrong. The line filled with movement¡ªclothing shifting, boots against metal, someone adjusting their grip on a weapon. A scream. It tore through the channel, raw, wind-distorted, vibrating through the speakers with something deeper beneath it, something Coil felt before his brain could name it. And then, impossibly, unmistakably¡­ ¡°COIIIIIIIILLLL!¡± His breath stilled. Not possible. His gaze snapped to the rearview mirror. The bridge ahead framed the dark expanse of sky, the road curving beneath overpasses, streetlights casting long shadows against the asphalt. And then¡ªmovement. A shape, a figure, soaring over the bridge in a perfect arc, wreathed in fire, trailing smoke like a comet. The boy. Alive. Coil¡¯s pulse spiked. His fingers clenched so hard against the wheel that the leather creaked under pressure. The SUVs ahead remained in formation, oblivious, unaware, as if the world had not just realigned itself into something incomprehensible. This wasn¡¯t happening. He was dead. He was dead. The shot had been clean. The body had been still. There was no scenario in which this was possible, no outcome where the boy survived a bullet through the skull and emerged as something worse. And yet¡­ He was coming. Coil inhaled sharply through his nose, forced the air out in a slow, controlled exhale. It took effort to keep his voice from breaking when he snapped, ¡°Black. Report. Now.¡± Static. "Black Leader, report." Nothing. Coil¡¯s grip on the wheel turned vice-like, leather groaning under pressure. His breath remained steady, even, controlled, only because he demanded it. His mind, however, moved too quickly, recalibrating, restructuring, constructing contingencies to account for an impossibility. Tangent had sent proof. Tangent wasn¡¯t responding. Black wasn¡¯t responding. He exhaled sharply, thumb flicking over his phone screen. Split. Two paths. One where his men opened fire immediately. Another where they held back, confirmed the threat before engagement. And¡ª A spike of pain, sharp and sudden, drove itself behind his eyes, radiating down his spine. A visceral, clawing pressure in his skull. Coil gasped, his vision blurred for half a second, the SUV swerving slightly before he corrected. The decision refused to settle. His power stuttered. He split, but there was no divergence. No clarity. No foresight. His power was failing. His power was¡ª No. His jaw locked. His pulse remained steady. His eyes flicked sideways to the mirror. Fire. He barely processed the reflection before a presence, something massive, something incandescent with rage, filled his periphery. Closer. His breath caught in his throat. And for the first time in a very long time, Coil felt fear. Real fear. His convoy moved before he could speak, trained instincts overriding hesitation. The leftmost SUV veered forward, tires shrieking, a gunner already leaning out the window, Tinkertech rifle braced against the frame. The vehicle behind slowed in tandem, a second shooter taking position. Disciplined. Precise. And then they screamed. It started as clipped, focused chatter, but Coil heard it break. The sharp staccato of gunfire, the deep whump of impact, the grotesque metal-on-metal crunch of reinforced armor caving beneath forces it wasn¡¯t designed to withstand. A choked yell, cut off mid-breath. And above it all, the sound of fire, not roaring, not crackling, but moving¡ªlike a living thing. He kept his eyes forward, hands steady, but the mirror framed everything in grim clarity. A human form, burning, blinding orange and red, cutting through trained mercenaries like they were nothing. Not flinching. Not slowing. Not stopping. A man crumpled against the pavement, arms limp, his legs twisted at a wrong angle, his weapon a useless heap yards away. Another hit the road at impossible speed, bounced, rolled, did not get back up. His men were dying. His plan was collapsing. And Greg Veder was still coming. Coil¡¯s throat was dry. His hands did not shake. His SUV remained steady, a precise forty meters behind the next in line, a moving fortress with a singular purpose: to keep him alive. Ahead, the lead vehicle swerved. One of his parahuman mercenaries leapt out, hands alight with some unfamiliar energy, eyes bright, mouth moving in a battlecry Calvert couldn¡¯t parse. Coil swallowed. The merc raised his hands. Let loose. An explosion tore through the highway. Flames surged high, an unnatural column of heat and debris. The air itself shuddered with the force of it, black smoke swallowing everything in an instant. And within it¡ªthe burning thing, the boy who should be dead. Gone. Calvert exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel, pulse steady, willing himself to accept it. It was over. Then a shadow moved. The fire bent. And a boy in red and black surged out of the smoke. Coil¡¯s heartbeat slammed against his ribs. "Shit."