《Incremental Improvement》


 Part 1

    "Name?"


    I breathed out slowly, "Marcus McKenna"


    The man typed, asking for the spelling, then confirmed it back to me, "Is this correct?"


    I looked at my name, "Yes, sir."


    He nodded, but wasn''t really looking at me. I didn''t particularly blame him given how much of my class had gone before me. We''d been getting processed through one at a time for hours by alphabetical order, so by the time you get to the Ms, you''re gonna be pretty sick of this routine. I was looking around the office at things when he asked the question and missed it, "I''m sorry, what was the question?"


    He sighed, "Age?"


    "14. I''m a freshman."


    He entered the information, "Gender?"


    "Male."


    This kept going. He got my address, checked the paperwork from my parents, all the things you''d expect of government types. I got asked about siblings, to which I told him I have two sisters, and then we started getting into side points. Dad works in marketing, my mom was a middle-school teacher until Mackenzie was born, and decided she wanted to stay home to raise us. I was in a karate class I''d been in for several years, I was in Scouts as a Star Scout and a member of the Order of the Arrow. Karate was a bit of an overstatement, since really, I was in the class, but mostly, I was just my sister Mackenzie''s sparring partner. She was the one who had the line of trophies at home, not that I minded, but it felt like I was sort of lying, and I wanted to correct myself, but I felt like he deeply wanted to be done with this, so I let it go.


    Finally, he produced a tablet, but not like the one he was entering my information on. This one was ancient-looking, with runes etched around the edges that I couldn''t recognize, and in the center, the outline of a hand, "Please place your hand on the tablet."


    I was a little nervous about it, but best to get this over with. The whole thing was just a thing to be gotten through. Less than 0.01% of the population of the entire world awakened with superpowers, with the news putting the total number of empowered individuals at around eight hundred thousand around the globe. The past decade had seen an explosion of the empowered, ranging across all walks of life, and with a variety of different superpowers and even magic, such as the magic in the tablet in front of me. While there seemed to be few true rules of who got what or if they got superpowers, a pattern had emerged, that powers would manifest at around fourteen to sixteen years of age, so the oldest supers by now were already in their mid-20s.


    Of course, the first thing the governments of the world did was have a very prompt freak out about it, then realized they could pass laws and regulate the hell out of it, and calmed right back down when they felt the comfort of having a whole new chain of bureaucracy to establish. First, registering everyone, and testing to find those that had the spark in them. Then, creation of the Tiers, rated from the lowest, E-Tier, to S-Tier, the highest classification. It was kind of hilarious to me that the tier system had just about been pulled whole-cloth from anime and manga. There were exactly three S-Tiers in the entire world, and they were living forces of nature, beholden to very little aside from one another. I don''t know, that always felt really lonely to me.


    I felt a small shock as I pressed my hand to the tablet as the runes glowed blue, and for the first time, the government guy reacted, "Holy shi- I mean, it would seem you have a power."


    I felt a sudden surge of panic at the news. I didn''t want powers, I''m not a hero, what the fuck?!


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    The man across from me explained a bunch of things, and made a quick call, but I can''t even remember any of it, until he directed me to a door at the back of his office, and ushered me through, where a woman was waiting for me, "Hi... Marcus? I''m Anna, I''m a licensed therapist and psychic with the Hero Association of America, and I''ll be with you through the rest of this process. Before we handle the next part, though, it feels like you might like something to eat?"


    I got taken to a cafeteria, but not the same one as the one on our tour. I looked around for anyone I knew, but none of my classmates were here. Seriously?! No one but me?! Oh God


    Even without telepathy, Anna could see the panic in me, "Marcus, it''s going to okay, I promise. Part of why I''m here is because I went through this too, when I was your age. I know how scary this can be, and I''ll be right here every step of the way. Now, let''s get you some lunch, and we can just talk, or not. Whatever works best for you."


    I did feel calmer, and I had so many questions, but I just... couldn''t speak. It was like missing a gear on my bike, in that no matter how much I might want to go forward, all that happened was a ka-chunk, and nothing. Eating, however, I could do. Anna moved through the cafeteria line, handed me a tray to hold, and seemed to be hitting a perfect run of selecting what looked best to me to put on my tray, even getting me a Yoo-Hoo to drink. I had pizza, chicken nuggets, a danish, and my Yoo-Hoo. Tucking in, I felt better almost immediately, and finally had the nerve to speak, "I''m sorry."


    She laughed, "What could you possibly have to be sorry about?"


    "I... I freaked out, and you''re a psychic, so I guess you had to feel that?" I stammered through it.


    Anna smiled warmly, and laid a hand on mine, "Marcus, I hear every thought and feeling of everyone around me, all the time, and you being afraid is absolutely the most normal thing in the world. And, in my experience, it speaks very well of you that it worries you, that you won''t take this for granted, or let it go to your head. Trust me, you''re doing great, and there''s nothing to apologize for."


    True to her word, Anna was with me the whole time. After having some lunch, I was feeling a bit better, though still anxious, so I did what I''d learned in karate: I focused on my breathing. Head clear, this was just a process, a thing of steps and stages. Anna explained that very little of my life would change in the here and now, that I would be fully evaluated, and that depending on my tier, we would discuss my options going forward.


    The evaluation was exhaustive, a full body scan, bloodwork, eye exam, hearing exam, and finally, I was led into a room with a man who introduced himself as Adam, "Hi there. Do you prefer Mark or Marcus?"


    "Marcus, please."


    "Well then Marcus, I''m Adam, and my powers are specific to evaluating the specific powers of people like yourself, and to assigning their tier ranking. Your abilities are still latent, they haven''t awakened yet, and as part of my kit of powers, I will be awakening them for you. It won''t be painful or anything, it''s just going to feel a bit odd as I examine the power and release it. Anna will be right here for you, and once we have your powers and tier, we''ll go over the next step. Take a moment, and just steady yourself. Would you like to sit, or would you prefer to stand for this?"


    I''d been sitting all day, and chose to stand, taking another moment to focus on my breathing. When I nodded I was ready, Adam had me hold my hands out palms up, then laid his hands on mine. I felt... yeah, funky, as I felt an energy move up my arms, until it spread throughout my body like a wave of pins and needles. This grew for several seconds, until I felt something akin to something tearing, and the energy removed itself back into Adam.


    He took a second for himself, obviously tiring from the exercise, before speaking, "Alright Marcus, I''m afraid it''s a good news, bad news situation. The good news is that your powers are awakened, and you don''t seem to be suffering any ill-effects, so you''re still in good health. The bad news... you''re literally the least powerful super I''ve encountered, not even E-Tier. Your power is something called ''1% incremental improvement'', and I genuinely am not sure what the use in it would be."


    I let out a breath I hadn''t even realized I''d been holding. I was relieved, really. The power was totally useless, I wouldn''t be shooting eyebeams, I didn''t have to be a hero, and I could just go back to my life, "Thank God."


    Adam tilted his head in confusion, while Anna came up next to me, "Well, I''m glad you feel good about this, but we still have some things to go over, and then we''ll have a car take you home with some literature. I''ll be working with you during your adjustment period, so I''ll give you some contact information for me, and you are free to call me whenever you need to."


    And this is how I became the world''s first F-Tier superhero. God I wish they''d gotten that evaluation right.

 Part 2

    F-Tier... yeah, feels about right, really. I mean, how else would you classify a power that''s description reads, "I get a tiny bit better at stuff"?


    They did send me home with some pamphlets and such, but I pretty much just handed those off to my parents, along with the badge with my picture on it that I received before leaving, and went straight to my room. It had been a long, tiring day, and it was fully night by the time I got in. With the school year just around the corner, I had about two weeks left of summer vacation, and I wanted to use it to do as little as possible. I would still have my regular karate classes, but aside from that, my schedule was wide open until Mom''s Labor Day Weekend "new clothes" extravaganza.


    It seemed, however, that there was no immediate reprieve coming, since I got woken up first thing by Darryl calling me, "Seriously, man? Eight AM on a Saturday?"


    "Yo, you didn''t come back with us! You got powers?!"


    Darryl was one of the rare people left in the world who was a comic book fan. The comics industry had pretty much imploded when superpowers became a reality, cause who''s going to read comic books about fictional superheroes when the real thing is right there? Darryl... Darryl would, "Man, it''s not worth it. I got a power, and it''s the crap one. I have the power to get slightly better at stuff, that''s it. But hey, I''m the first F-Tier superhero in existence... woo. Can I go back to sleep now?"


    Darryl was clearly still wanting to talk about this, "Nah, nah. I''ll buy MickeyD''s. You up for it?"


    My stomach reacted to the news like an ancient monster rising from the depths. Egg McMuffins sounded really good right now, and some sausage burritos... and a sweet tea. I had some money from yesterday to pay for food that I never ended up spending, so I swung out of bed, threw on basic clothes, and got ready to head out. Ugh, yeah, definitely time for new clothes, my shirt and jeans felt a little tight, and I had to adjust the band on my cadet cap. Ah well, time for that later when Mom goes nuts about clothes shopping.


    Invariably, Darryl and I kept ending up at this particular McDonald''s. At least for breakfast, it was cheap enough for us to eat, and one dollar unlimited refill drinks was a pretty good deal all figured. Darryl was already there, coming from the other side, and he was practically vibrating with excitement. God, this was gonna be hard on him to hear.


    He got ready to jump right in, but I cut it off, "We''re not talking about this til I have food and caffeine in me."


    Darryl was a little bit dejected, but the promise was still there. We got in and ordered: Darryl got the breakfast platter, and he bought me my regular order, sausage egg and cheese McMuffin and a large sweet tea. Then I added in two more McMuffins and three sausage burritos which I paid for myself. It was weird, it still didn''t feel like enough food. The food came out quickly enough, and we went around the corner from the registers to our usual seats over by the restrooms away from everyone.


    I laid into my food, and didn''t realize something was up until I noticed Darryl was paused, staring at me, "Damn, dude, when''s the last time you ate?"


    I looked down. Darryl had somewhat started his breakfast, and I''d polished off two of my McMuffins and both of my burritos, and I would need to refill my tea, "Wow, yeah, cafeteria yesterday for lunch."


    "That explains that," he replied, shrugging and getting back to eating while I went over and refilled my tea. Then I stopped back at the counter, and dropped the rest of my lunch money on a couple more sandwiches, and a large mocha frappuccino. Damn, I was hungry.


    We kept eating until Darryl decided he''d let me get enough food in me, "Okay, so like, what was it like?"


    I swallowed my bite of McMuffin, and considered a moment, "I mean, when the tablet glowed, the guy doing the exam nearly swore, but honestly, it ended up being nothing. Met a couple of other supers who were doing the evaluation. Anna''s a psychic, she was just there like Mrs. Brown in the guidance office, and Adam, he was the guy who ''awakened'' my powers and told me what they were. Mostly, it kept ratcheting between really scary and totally boring."


    His enthusiasm for the moment didn''t weaken even a little, "Yeah, but you said you were the first ever F-Tier. How''d that happen?!"


    Don''t get me wrong, Darryl is my best friend. We''d been together as long as either of us had memory, and aside from some arguments and fights here or there, we''d always been best friends, but his constant upbeat excitement could be... we''ll call it spiritually taxing. If someone ever figures out how to harness his energy, I swear we''d be off fossil fuels in under a year, "Well, that''s basically what happens when you get the worst superpower ever discovered. I get slightly better at things, that''s it. No super flight, speed, nothing. I just get better at... stuff, he didn''t specify what, though."


    Darryl sat back, and looked sort off into the middle distance for a moment, "Yeah, but like, what was the power actually called?"


    God, I want off this ride, "1% incremental improvement. I get slightly better at stuff."


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    He did some math on his phone for a minute before responding, "We need to go bowling."


    Darryl''s dad ran a local bowling alley, nothing too fancy, but because his dad owned it, we could bowl for free. The only downside is I suck at it. The best I have ever bowled is a 33, but fine, whatever gets us out of this conversation. At least they have chili dogs and never-ending root beer... why am I still hungry?


    We went to the alley, and I let my mom know on the way where we were. We got our spot down at the end, and started bowling. Darryl demolished me in the first game, hitting a 130, while I did get a personal best, of 37. Ooh, look at the unrestrained power of a super....


    Darryl wasn''t ready to be done, so we kept going, and Darryl kept taking notes:


    Game 1: 37- 130 Darryl


    Game 2: 42- 127 Darryl


    Game 3: 48- 122 Darryl


    "Look, Darryl, I''m glad you''re happy, but I don''t want to spend the whole day in a bowling alley."


    He looked like he was about to explode with energy, "No, dude, you don''t get it. You''ve bowled your best game ever, every time. Look!"


    He''d scored every game on paper, and showed me, "Huh..."


    He had marked both our scores, highlighting mine, and with it laid out on paper, it was easier to see it. Yeah, I still sucked, but I was more on target with every frame. Notations above the scorecard laid out the math of bowling: 2 bowls per frame for 10 frames, and if I cleared the pins on 10, I got a third roll. Normally, that''s 20 rolls of the ball per game, three games, 60 bowls. Darryl''s grin threatened to swallow his whole head, "Don''t you see it, man?!"


    I mean, it was neat, and certainly better than I''d ever done, but I don''t feel like it merited this degree of energy into it. Darryl was getting frustrated now, and took out more paper, "Look. Okay, let''s say you have a dollar, right? Now, let''s say that every second, the dollar gets 1% more valuable. How much money would you have in just one day?"


    I did the math on my phone, "Eight-hundred, sixty-four dollars. I mean, it''s neat."


    Darryl slapped hands down on the table we were scoring at, "No! You''re doing the math wrong. Look!"


    He started drawing out the equation. $1 became $1.01, then $1.0201, and Darryl explained as he continued the equation, "Every second, the number gaining the 1% increase is slightly higher than the last time. Sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes an hour, and twenty-four hours in a day. That''s... 86,400 increases in a single day. Keep bowling, I''ll score it."


    "I need food."


    Chili dogs achieved, I went back to bowling. Darryl took notes, and started recording on his phone, while I just kept rolling a ball down a lane. At first, I really didn''t have much faith in this, but he was right, my scores kept improving, and improving by slightly more each game. By the tenth game, I was easily beating Darryl''s best scores. I wasn''t getting better each game, I was getting better every time I picked up and rolled the ball. It didn''t phase Darryl in the slightest, and he only seemed happier as it went on, but something felt off, "Hey, Darryl, the ball feels weird. It''s... too light?"


    "YES! I was right!"


    He exploded out of his seat, and rushed over, "I didn''t even know if it''d be a thing, and it is! Quick, put the ball in your other hand!"


    I switched hands, and felt the regular weight come back, while Darryl started grabbing my shoulders and squeezing, "Dude, not doing a massage right now!"


    "No, no. I''m checking your shoulders. Feel it, your right shoulder feels tougher and thicker."


    I set the ball down in the return, and sure enough, he was right. Looking, there was a slight difference between my left and right arms, things had shifted, and I felt a slight alarm, but Darryl could not be stopped, "Switch hands, bowl with your left until it feels the same as it did with your right."


    Okay... I started bowling again, following the directions... and it was like a soft reset. I sucked again, not as much as I had originally, but again, it started going up. With every roll of the ball, I was getting better. When I caught up to my right, I started switching arms between bowls, and by the time we left, I did the impossible: I hit a perfect 300, once with my right, and once with my left. In the matter of half a day, I had gone from sucking, to perfect scoring back-to-back while switching hands. I thought I would be absolutely exhausted, but mostly, I was just starving, and grabbed a lane pizza before we headed out.


    Once we were outside, Darryl checked my shoulders again, "Yup, just like I thought!"


    I was a bit tired, but the pizza smelled too good to wait, so I grabbed a slice, "An explanation would be great, man."


    "Okay, so this is really just a hypothesis right now, but I''m pretty sure they screwed up your eval. It''s not just the bowling, though that was insane to watch. Your shoulders and arms improved while you were bowling. It wasn''t just a matter of you bowling better with each throw, your body incrementally improved with every roll of the ball. That''s why the ball got lighter, it didn''t, but it didn''t feel like as much weight because the muscles in your arms got one percent better every time you picked the ball up and moved with it. Your form got better too, I got that on video. And that is why you''re eating so much!"


    I shook my head and swallowed, "What the hell does that have to do with my eating?!"


    He was all teeth with the smile again, "Because man, you needed all that protein, cause your body was literally improving in real-time. Like, you remember that thing, that one Thor guy who was on Game of Thrones? Peter Dinklage talked about how the dude ate six whole chickens at dinner the one night. That''s cause he''s a serious weightlifter, and he needs the calories and protein for muscle maintenance and growth. That''s you dude! So far today, you''ve eaten... five McMuffins, four large teas, two sausage burritos with salsa, a large frapp, four chili dogs, a soft pretzel with cheese, mozz sticks, about a gallon of root beer, you ate the ice that came with it, and... you''re gonna finish off that pepperoni pizza before you get home."


    I made excuses, and said my goodbyes to Darryl, who did take it in stride, calling it my ''brood on a rooftop'' time, and citing that tons of heroes did it in comics. I kind of understood why now, even though it had seemed silly before. Oddly enough, I went by the high school, and took a seat on the bleachers by the football field to eat my pizza. No one would look for me here, which is what I wanted. It was all too much. Jesus, just over a day ago, all I wanted was to cruise through the last bit of my summer vacation, maybe do some huge Minecraft project. Now, my body was changing so fast you could see differences, I had all these expectations, just... I needed everything to just quiet down. I don''t know what to do, and I''m terrified, and even the act of eating is now somehow locked to all of this. It''s my whole life, and I don''t want it.

 Part 3

    My mom is awesome. So, Dad was proud as hell of me, "my son the superhero" and all that, but Mom could tell I wasn''t feeling great. So, she excused me from going to church with the family, and hey, a full box of doughnuts from Donut World and some Yerba Mates to drink! She got it, I needed time, and despite some grousing from Mackenzie and Merida (There was a definite theme to our parents naming us), I got the house to myself for a few hours, which I promptly decided to use the best possible use of my time: playing Minecraft. Outside of the Speedrunning/Manhunt community, you can''t really get better at playing Minecraft past a certain point, and that was a point I''d long since passed. The normalcy of it was amazing, and I made a mental note to look into other stuff that wasn''t really a "get better" activity.


    I think people deeply underestimate the importance of Doing Nothing. It''s all well and good to have ambitions and stuff, but honestly, sometimes it''s just nice to have nothing going on. After Minecraft, I decided to watch some wrestling and anime. It was as I was binging Food Wars, eating some instant ramen, a thought popped into my head- I could learn to make better ramen. For those who make ramen in Japan, it was a years-long study to make solid, proper ramen in the traditional sense, but with my abilities, couldn''t I learn to make it a bit faster?


    The house phone rang and checking the number, it was Mom. I picked up, "Hey ma."


    "How are you doing, sweetie?" The slight concern was easy to hear. Wait- social cues are a thing, do I get better at social cues?


    "I''m feeling better. Sorry I haven''t talked much, I just needed a minute."


    She paused a moment, "I know, and I wanna talk to you about that face to face, but Merida managed to guilt your dad into going to Dave & Buster''s. Are you up for it, or do you want to sit this out? I just want what''s best for you."


    With some time to just relax, I was feeling better, and not gonna lie, it''s one of my favorite places to... I had a laugh, "Yeah, I wanna go."


    Mom came and got me, the rest going ahead, and we hit up Fred Meyer''s so I could replace my outfit. This would end up freeing me up from doing the trip with my sisters, so hey, big upswing. Now armed with a new wardrobe, we went to D&B, where everyone else had ordered. I pretty much got the same thing every time, so Dad had just ordered my regular stuff, which was coming out as I sat down. I wolfed down the whole plate, and power card in hand, went into the game room, barely talking to anyone. The little Wheedler knew something was up, and followed along with me.


    Okay, so 1%... following the previous example of bowling, there was a way to break this place open like a piggy bank. Before anything, though, I went around the game room, doing some math. It seems silly, but going after the games with the largest jackpot payout isn''t necessarily your best bet in this situation. A high payout game might be mostly about luck, RNG, and that won''t let me exploit my ability. Claw machines? Nah, there, I''m at the mercy of the claw itself, and however often they''ve done maintenance on it, so that doesn''t work. Deal or No Deal? Eh, some deductive reasoning, but mostly at the mercy of luck still... SKEEBALL.


    It''s almost pure skill, and it uses the same essential muscle groups as bowling. All the balls weigh exactly the same. I''d already been decent at it, so why not? Merida knew I was up to something, so she was definitely not going away any time soon, so fine, let''s enlist her in it, "Okay Bit, you know I got powers, right?"


    She nodded, and I saw a slight glint in her eyes, "Uh huh."


    "Okay, so I need you to keep quiet about what I''m doing, and if I need to, I might need your card. If this works like I think it will, I''ll get you something nice at the prize store. Deal?"


    We shook on it, and I got started. I''d definitely improved, and the skill sets did dovetail nicely. I needed a score of 550 to jackpot out. I got 340 my first game, then 450 on the second, and on the 5th game, I hit it. 1,000 tickets... okay, let''s go again. Jackpot, jackpot, jackpot. Each time, the score needed for jackpot raised, until finally, I would need a perfect score every time to hit it. Merida''s jaw was on the floor, "Okay Bit, we''re gonna shoot hoops now, okay?"


    She nodded frantically, and off we went to shoot hoops. This I didn''t do as well at... initially. Sure, it''s a ball going in a direction, but it''s a different game, using throwing instead of rolling. Long term, though, it just didn''t matter. Within a few rounds, I was hitting jackpot again, and kept it going until I hit the same point. I kept moving between games, dumping out of them as I approached maximum scores. Sure, people were gonna hate me for the rest of the day, since the scores needed for jackpot generally increased every time someone hit it, but hey, no complaints from my end, and besides which, it would reset tomorrow anyway.


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    I still couldn''t win any of the real big-ticket items, but damn had I raked it in. It was nuts! I got Merida her agreed-upon item, and she left with her stuffed unicorn the size of me, and we got back to the table as dessert arrived. Merida was super proud, "Look what Mark won me!"


    She''s the only one who gets away with calling me Mark. I sat and had some ice cream and a root beer float, with Mackenzie giving me a look, "Geez, it''s not like the food''s gonna run away."


    I had to work on a better solution for eating. Hm... Larabars could work. They tasted good enough, and they were quick calories. The issue was I''d need a metric ton of them to keep from inhaling a small banquet every time I stopped to eat. I should probably talk to Anna about that.


    I took my phone off of Do Not Disturb, and it exploded with notifications, mostly messages from Darryl. Those I just dismissed, but apparently, I had some stuff from the H.A.A.. Reading it, they''d gone over my bloodwork and didn''t have an issue, and apparently, they did provide help for "unique challenges" associated with my new powers. The specific example they listed was that speedsters tended to burn up tons of calories, and programs were offered to help with the caloric impact.


    After we finished up and got home, I sat down and set up a board on Jira and Miro. These were apps that game and software developers used to arrange projects, Jira for setting goals and making backlogs, with Miro for a sort of digital whiteboard thing. I sent links to Darryl, cause I couldn''t have him constantly texting me all day, and then got startled when Mom knocked on my door, "Can I come in?"


    "Yeah, ma"


    She came in, and closed the door softly behind her, taking a seat on my bed, while I was sitting in my computer chair, "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"


    I took a steadying breath, "It''s... it''s a lot, not gonna lie."


    She didn''t make any particular move, just laying her hands in her lap, "Do you want to talk about it?"


    I looked at my hands. What would they look like in a year? A strange thought, but I was already changing, "Want to? No, but I need to. It''s so weird. Like, it''s gonna sound stupid, but this power... it''s so scuffed."


    Mom cocked her head, "Scuffed?"


    "Sorry, um, OP, overpowered. Like, there are wildly better powers out there, but like... wait, I can show you."


    I grabbed a deck of my Magic Cards, put my hat upside down on the computer desk, and rolled my chair across the room. I started idly tossing cards, trying to get them into the hat, and at first, I was missing, sometimes by a wide margin, but steadily, card after card sailed into the hat until every single card started going in, "See? I''ve never tried that before in my life, I just saw it on that movie with Bill Murray you groan about when Dad watches. I went bowling with Darryl yesterday, and by the time we finished, I could hit a perfect score on both hands. I got perfect scores on Skeeball, and pretty much every game I played today at Dave & Buster''s. And this is all just since Friday. And look at my shoulder!"


    I popped out of my shirt really quick, and showed Mom my shoulders and arms, "See? I didn''t have muscle like this Friday. This is just from bowling Saturday. I even had to switch hands to even out, cause I got stronger so fast. Everything I keep doing, I get better, and I get better insanely quickly. It''s like I''m on some sort of cheat code in a game."


    Mom looked me over, concern in her eyes, "Are you in any pain?"


    I shook my head, and then thought about it, "No, I feel great, but I should be, shouldn''t I? I mean, my shoulders should at least ache, like when I started with karate, but no, I''m fine. I mean, I''m hungry, but that seems to just be a new feature of this thing. Darryl says it''s because of how rapidly my body is changing, so I guess that might ease off eventually. I need to talk to Anna, she''s the psychic lady that they gave me to talk to about stuff. It''s just... I''m scared. I mean, where does this stop? Does it stop? All the superpowers I''ve ever heard of are pretty much set, or it''s like magic, where you need years of study and experience to get better at it. I''m not even trying that hard."


    Mom crossed and hugged me, "I know, it''s scary, and it''s okay to feel all sorts of things about this. It''s a huge change, and it''s normal to feel conflicted about things."


    I hate crying. Showing vulnerability at school was a good way to lose your lunch money. Yeah, I took karate, but class isn''t a real fight, where I might hurt someone. I never wanted to hurt anyone, and that always left me on the losing side, cause I never even wanted to hurt the bullies. Here and now, though, I was in my mom''s arms, and I let it all go.


    I slept that night, and when I woke, it was early. No one else was up yet, so I went downstairs, and made myself breakfast. Food was going to be incredibly important to me now, and I made a point to grab my mom''s old copy of The Joy of Cooking, and found an omelet recipe. We bought a lot of eggs in our house, so reading along, I started the work. According to the book, the key to a proper omelet was to cook the egg on low heat and to not disturb it much. Then, there was the seasoning, and whatever oddments I would use. Here, I wanted to recreate a spinach & mushroom omelet. I could almost start to track as the improvement hit, I was starting to pay attention for it. Between reading, and taking time with each stage, I could start to feel the hint of it.


    Feeling a bit on the cocky side, I decided to make some hollandaise sauce, like at IHOP. The first couple of tries, it separated, but steadily, I got it. It wasn''t the best, and the whole thing looked slapped together, but it was an essential proof of concept. I was advancing at absolutely anything I decided to do. The world was now a skill issue, and I could learn any skill I wanted.


    I was finishing up, and starting to clean up my mess when Mom came in, probably to get started on breakfast, "Hey ma, sorry about the mess. I''m cleaning it up."


    She seemed like she wanted to say something, but instead, she took a seat, smiling, "Very well, then. If it isn''t too much trouble, I''d like some breakfast please."


    I nodded, "Alright then, let''s make some omelets."

 Part 4

    Sunday was a godsend for me. I''d needed a day of just being silly, and Mom hugs are just the best. I made omelets for everyone Monday morning, and with Mom giving hints, it went a lot better than base learning. So one more theory confirmed: Teachers are still a necessity, at least until I get to the point of being able to do it on my own.


    I checked my boards online, and Darryl had been busy. All sorts of things I would ''need'' according to him, which all pertained to what he''d read of superheroes in comics. I considered playing along, but y''know what? Let''s see what I can really do. I texted him: "OPM. Park. 9am."


    While I wanted to talk to Anna, the problem was I didn''t really have proof of anything, and I would just be a scared kid making up stuff in his head if I tried to walk in there three days after eval with nothing definitive. So, let''s get some definition. Mom picked up protein powder for me, it was easier than trying to eat whole chickens, and I waited for Darryl at the park, while Mom went to see the Canadian geese that were just starting their trip south for the winter. Darryl came up, tablet in-hand, and ready to work, "Darryl! Okay, today''s plan: One Punch Man. We''re gonna Saitama this shit."


    100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10km run every day, it got dubbed the "One Punch Man Workout" after the anime, and clinically speaking, it... wasn''t advisable to actually DO that, since it would put absurd strain on your body. From what I''d seen though, my body didn''t work the same, and I needed to find the line, and the only way to find it was to cross it.


    Darryl was only too eager to do this. I popped in my earbuds, did my opening warm-up stretches from karate class, then hit push-up position. I thought about doing regular push-ups, but in karate we did knuckle push-ups, which I was more used to by now. I got to thirty before I had to stop for a minute. I rotated my shoulders, stretched, hydrated, and popped a Larabar, blueberry muffin flavor. I went back to it, and got another thirty-five, stretch, five minute rest break, hydrate, and finished out the remainder. All during this, Darryl was recording on the tablet, which he had hooked to a solar charger, and took notes on his laptop. Then followed sit-ups and squats, and all during it, Darryl would also take pictures with my shirt off. He didn''t go over what he was looking for, but I got the gist of it- It was a progress check. So, pics right before I start, and then on each break, and a final one after the exercise, alongside video of the workout itself.


    This process repeated for sit-ups and squats. I was in decent enough shape, really, I just wasn''t that physically ambitious before now. The 10k though... that I wasn''t so sure about. I''d jogged and run before, certainly, but that''s over six miles of running. Six and a quarter was confirmed by Darryl, which didn''t help. He said to just do the same thing I''d done with the rest: Run ''til I felt like I needed to stop, take a 5-10 minute break, and do some more. For this challenge, Darryl had a Go Pro rig to monitor me, as well as one on my chest, and his dad''s smartwatch was being used to monitor my heart rate.


    Darryl himself was on his bike, cause we both knew he wasn''t running six miles, plus it let him carry more with him, of which, the Gatorade would be essential for me. Portland not withstanding, it was still August, and it was warm out. Our biggest hurdle initially was that my running speed wasn''t enough for Darryl''s pedaling speed to keep the bike straight, so he was wobbling all over the place. I took my first break when my watch beeped the first km traveled. I looked to Darryl, "Ice Blue one."


    An Ice blue Gatorade was tossed my way, and I took a moment to towel off before slamming the whole bottle. In the end, this part was the most grueling. I''d already pushed myself a lot, and six miles is six miles, it doesn''t matter if you''re steadily improving at it. I had to keep stopping, and while I did finish, my times weren''t precisely marathon material. We were both exhausted at the end of it, with Darryl forcing himself to get his final pictures, "Okay man, that''s enough of that shit. You got... faster... while you were running."


    "Really? Neat."


    Darryl sort of both nodded and shook his head at the same time "Yeah, we need to figure out another way for the run tomorrow. I can''t keep doing this every day. I was barely in it by the end of it."


    I just laid there for a bit, getting my breathing back into line, and closed my eyes for a moment, "We need to keep at it, though. You''re right. I think the guys at the H.A.A. got my eval wrong. This whole thing feels broken, but I need more-"


    "THAT''S IT!"


    Darryl hopped up... or, tried to, got wobbly, and sat back down, "We need to go to the H.A.A.! They have a full gym up there, and their equipment is rated for superpowers. They showed it to us as part of the tour. You missed it cause you were all ''urr durr, I''ve got powers now''."


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I quirked an eyebrow at him at that last bit, but I chuckled. He wasn''t wrong, the H.A.A. would have all the equipment we needed, and frankly, free access to the cafeteria for me was starting to be a necessity. I still didn''t fully get the eating thing, but I''d eaten more since Friday that I''d ever eaten before, "That''s for tomorrow. We''re done on physical stuff today."


    Darryl nodded empathically at that, "So what do we do now?"


    I sat up, propping myself up on my elbows, "I''m thinking lunch, then I''m gonna start learning coding."


    "I''m all for it, man, but why coding?"


    "I''m starting to think about it, and honestly, these powers are like cheat codes. If I want to be the greatest athlete that ever lived, I just am, and no one can keep up without insane superpowers. Like, what would my career look like as a pro-bowler?" It was one of the things that was occurring to me more and more as I had this ability for incremental improvement, "And even that thought, looking further down the road, it''s part of it. I''m not just getting better at the physical stuff, I''m getting calmer about the powers, I''m starting to think about the long-run of this and other stuff. The only places that aren''t effected by my powers are things where creativity and artistry are at the heart of it, rather than a specific technical skill. So I figure, I start coding, use Minecraft as a basis, and maybe we learn to make a video game of our own, something that can be mine, not my powers."


    Darryl got up again, more slowly this time, and I hopped to my feet, as he looked at me for a moment, "I''m sorry, man. I didn''t... I didn''t really realize how much this changes things for you."


    I shook my head, "It''s fine, dude. It''s not really yours to think about it, and I get it, you wanted powers, to see a superhero in action, but it just comes with weight attached."


    We walked across the park to catch up with Mom, and I saw something I''d taken for granted for a while now: A small group of shoddy tents in an unused corner of the park. There were little tent groups like that strewn around the city, and while I''d more or less learned to ignore and avoid them, it caught my eye now. I opened my Miro board, and looked at it, at all the projects that were about me, about my powers, my costume, my career, my superhero name... me, me, me...


    I grabbed the backpack from Darryl, and stalked over to the tents, who initially trailed after me, but stopped as he saw where I was heading. He tried to say something, but I just ignored it. An older man was there, with a dog laying next to him, wagging its tail furiously as it saw me coming, and barked happily, "Hi. I''m sorry, but this is all I have."


    I handed over a handful of Larabars, a couple of Gatorades, and threw the dog some string cheese. The man thanked me, and by the time I turned, I was shaking and crying. I was getting angry, and as I thought about it, really looking around, I could feel myself getting angrier, like there was too much rage to hold in my own body. I texted Mom, telling her I needed alone time, that I was okay, but Darryl would need a ride home. I hugged Darryl, and told him I''d talk to him later, and jogged off on my own.


    It started off as a jog, but I found myself picking up speed, trying to put the anger I felt into something that wasn''t another person, or breaking things. Eight hundred thousand ''heroes'' in the world, and we still had camps of homeless people. People that could run food around the entire globe in moments, but that old guy was rail thin, powers that could trivialize construction times, and still, people slept in the streets, in bus shelters, in parks, under bridges. Even Anna, a full psychic therapist, and we were letting people wallow in their own misery.


    I stopped running, not so much because I was out of anger, but more... out of land. I wasn''t precisely sure how long I''d been running, but I''d run all the way from southeast Portland to the Columbia River. Okay, the anger wasn''t really helping things. Come on, Sensei Bill went over this, find your center. I stood on a small beach along the Columbia, and forced myself to breathe, closing my eyes, using a slow hand motion with both hands to focus it all down. There was a way, I just needed to learn, I need to get better, I need... money. However much I might like the idea that I could just get people to do the right thing, the reality of it was most of the city lived three seconds to fucked-o''clock at any given point. They might love to help, but they couldn''t spare the time from trying to survive, couldn''t turn their food and rent money into a solution for others.


    But how do I make money? I mean, allowance isn''t enough by any stretch. Okay, work? I''m fourteen, I''m not really hirable, and even if I was, I had almost no time for a job around school, karate, Scouts, and training. So how do I make money? Gig work? Again, fourteen, there''s limits, and I''ll get steeply underpaid at that. Come on there''s gotta be something... I looked at my phone... Twitch.


    It wasn''t actually that hard, come to think of it. The H.A.A. kept the identities of heroes a secret, for obvious retaliatory reasons, but there was no particular reason I couldn''t reveal things about me, no reason I couldn''t use it. An open super was not a thing, the various Hero orgs had seen to that, but then, who would intentionally expose themselves like that? Sure, I couldn''t really fight crime by the rules and regs, but this wasn''t crimefighting, this wasn''t strictly illegal.


    I called Darryl, "Change of plans. I need you to break up and edit all the video we''ve got of my training. Post it to YouTube, Insta, Snap, TikTok, just... anywhere where we might be able to start monetizing. Let me know when it''s ready to go. I''ve already got a Twitch channel, I''ll send you the link when I post a TikTok."


    I got myself set up, holding up the phone before me. This was my last chance to back out, but screw it. Screw the rules, screw the regs, screw everyone who''s gonna try to stop me. The recording started, "I''m Aegis, and I am the world''s first F-Tier superhero."

 Part 5

    Saying that our string of videos went viral was... hilariously underselling it. It did take a little bit, and then a news station in Portland picked up the hashtags. Darryl had started by hashtagging the living hell out of everything. Once he understood the assignment, it was pretty much done. He used his dad for the channel info, so we had an adult attached to what we were doing (Mr. Henning may not have exactly had things explained to him past, "We''re gonna make some TikTok and YT videos").


    For the first couple of hours, nothing much happened. Some immediate likes, but just from family and friends, but we damn well knew when it hit, because suddenly my phone started pinging second-by-second until I had to turn off the notifications. By the end of the first day, our videos were ripping through the millions of views, and our various channels had full-size governments following us, subscribing to us. Even the Twitch channel was raking in followers. Which leads to this moment:


    "YOU OUTED YOURSELF ON TIKTOK?!"


    Whelp, Dad knows. Not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping he wouldn''t have caught on yet, but... yeah. I mean, we only posted insane videos that started trending globally, got soundbites on a ton of news stations, and were now all common knowledge to.... basically everyone on the planet, but I still held out hope that my dad might take just a bit longer at finding out what I did.


    Thankfully, The all-caps was in text form. He didn''t wait to get home, and I will say this for Dad: If he''s pissed at you, you will be the first one to know about it. Okay, well, the upside, is he can''t kill me, since I can now run a lot faster than him. I was trying to do Pokemon GO during my 10k, but apparently, somewhere along the line, I started running fast enough that the game registered me as driving, and won''t let me do a bunch of stuff.


    We''d advanced our rig since yesterday a bit, with a shoulder set that would hold the camera, and allow me to respond to people watching the current livestream, "Alright folks, give me a second. I have to send my dad a quick message..."


    To my dad I wrote the following: "It''s best if I explain verbally, and I promise you, I have a plan. Here''s a link to my livestream. I''ll explain it clearly, just come watch" and dropped the link.


    Dad would be too angry to listen to me in person, and every ounce of evidence I had said he would still think of me as his little boy. That boy was disappearing from moment to moment, and I suppose I didn''t have the heart to break his. I got started up again on my run, "Alright, and off we go again, chat. I know one of the questions I''ve been inundated with since I went live yesterday is, ''Why out yourself?''


    "The answer is: Because I have to. We''ve had supers across the globe now for a decade, and let''s be real, what''s really changed? Still the same arguments, still the same back and forth. I don''t know, it feels like the world should have gone through some sort of apotheosis event, and it just... kept on going, y''know? I was over at the park yesterday, you''ve seen videos, but the part you didn''t see was after the workout. I came across a small homeless camp, and there was this old guy there, his name''s Fred, and the one thing he has from his prior life? An old, beaten-up wallet with a Superman logo on it. At the time, I only just gave him some food, and tossed his dog some string cheese that was in my backpack, but I went back after I dropped my little announcement. So who''s Fred, and why does he matter?


    "Fred used to have a life that looked strikingly similar to everyone else''s life. He went to work, paid bills, bought groceries, did bonfires along the beach. Yup, pretty normal PNW life right there, but then, roundabout ten years ago, he got in it bad, as the rents started to get completely insane. His rent jumped from just under nine hundred bucks a month, up over thirteen hundred, despite his complex being nearly to full occupancy. Why? Oh, well because a new company was getting ready to buy it, and advertise it as ''luxury'', so they could not charge the rent they charged him, but even more. He tried to keep up, but places that he could afford were disappearing. His job scaled back hours, because people weren''t spending as much- most likely because the cost of living jacked up overnight, so no one had the spare coin to spend. All it took was his car breaking down, which was inevitable since he was working two jobs, doing Uber in his ''spare'' time just to get across the line."


    I took a pause. I was well over the 10k line, but I still had the energy to keep going, so I took a short break out by the Marina along Marine Drive, "Like, I''m just some white kid from the suburbs, my family got so lucky. My dad is awesome, and he managed to get us a home before all this crap got out of hand, so we aren''t really affected by it, at least not directly... or at least, that''s what they''d let you believe. Truth is, this shit just hurts everyone''s souls a bit each day. We get angrier, we get more desperate, and the world itself gets darker. We watched businesses we loved close their doors cause they couldn''t keep up with the rising costs, and lost business due to the housing crisis here."


    I looked out over the water, then the ground, sitting there feeling ashamed, "Dad always wanted a boat. He makes those little ships in bottles, they''re all over the place in the house, and he''s got some really beautiful ones in his office. We don''t have a real boat for Dad, can''t afford it, cause everything for me, for my sisters, my mom, the house, the groceries, they''re all getting more and more expensive. College money for two of us coming up, it''s crap. And meanwhile, we''ve got people sleeping in the street, in these camps, bus shelters, under bridges... We''ve got a super who can literally raise land from the ocean, another who can stop drug addiction with her psychic powers, and these people are still there, living in horror every day, every night... and I can fix it. The more I think about it, the more I can see it, and I can get Dad his boat, and I can pay for my own college, and my sisters''."


    I dropped fully to the ground, starting the workout again, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and continued as I got back onto stride for the run, breaking south. There was a Jersey Mike''s straight down in the shopping center with the Kohl''s if I remembered correctly, and I took off before continuing and saw a comment: I don''t understand why you care. I read it aloud, and replied, "Because someone should."


    I shook my head, and leaned as I started running uphill, "I can fix so many things that are wrong... but not if I follow the H.A.A. guidelines. First, they ship me off to ''super-school'' in the middle of nowhere, and then I get to do no one any good for at least four years, and they decide I''m allowed to make a difference, y''know, as long as it falls within the parameters of maintaining the status quo. What''s that status gotten us? There anyone out there who''s really happy with how things are playing out? Any of you out there truly think we need to just leave things as they are?" I grinned, and narrowed my eyes, "I aim to misbehave."


    The run continued on, as I ran and fielded questions from my viewers, asking about my powers, what I could do, and suggestions about things I could do or learn. There were also people saying they were agents, or talent scouts, trying to get a private word with me, but I figure, that part still needs Mom and Dad around. I heard my stomach growl, and apparently, so did my chat, as I saw the shopping center coming up on my left. I crossed over, still running. It seemed like traffic was going kind of slow today, so I didn''t see an issue with it. And there it was. Personal tastes aside, they had the biggest subs in town, and I really needed as many calories as I could get. I signed off, stating I would be back online for the afternoon stream, which would be less physical, and more mental pursuits. I had a whole list of things I wanted to work on, and that was one of the tricks, was to let folks see me doing a variety of things, rather than one or two specific things.


    I got a shock when I stepped inside, and the staff realized who I was. It was one thing to hear the numbers from Darryl, and another entirely to see an entire room load of people immediately recognize you on the fly. The store manager came out from the back, and he asked if I could take a quick selfie with him. I obliged but did mention I desperately needed to eat. He comped me, and I got my giant sub, chips, Tastycakes, and just a HUGE thing of Dr. Pepper.


    I grabbed a seat in the corner, where I could see out, and plugged into my solar charger, calling up Darryl, "Hey man, how''re the numbers looking?"


    Darryl responded quickly, "We''ve got more viewers than the World Cup, World Series, and Super Bowl combined. I''m essentially doing a reaction stream on Twitch, and I''m handling the YouTube stuff. Biggest problem we''ve got is a translation problem. We''ve got a lot of folks from overseas posting, and I don''t speak whatever languages these are."


    "Alright, get a list together of the top fifty most spoken languages, and... sure, kick in sign languages as well. I''ll get ''em on Duo Lingo, guess we''ll start on Spani-"


    My Dad walked in, looking at his phone, and then turned. The "Find my Phone" app. I needed to get a burner, but for now, I stood up, "Dad, I''m so-"


    That''s as far as I got before my dad hugged me, "You scared the shit out of me!"


    I hugged him back for a moment, then pulled back, "Dad, um, I''ve been running for the last twelve miles, and you''re wearing a suit."


    He chuckled and I fished out a towel from my bag for him, "Uh, you wanna have lunch with me? We can talk. Cams aren''t on. I do need another drink, though."


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I refilled my soda, and introduced Rick, the Manager, to my Dad, Liam. Liam comped Dad, I got my soda, and we sat back down, "I''m gonna be real honest, the food comps are gonna be clutch."


    Dad was about to say something, then stopped, dropping his head and shoulders down slightly, looking me over, "Marcus, stand up for me for a moment."


    I sighed, standing. What now? Dad stood in front of me, looking me over again, "I swear, I think you''re... taller."


    He then reached forward, and touched my face. Let me tell you just how much teen boys like it when you fuss over their faces in public. Despite my protestations, however, he continued his examination, "And... peach fuzz. We need to go to the H.A.A.. Something''s off."


    I touched my face and noticed for the first time: I was growing facial hair. I mean, it was peach fuzz, but it was still hair I hadn''t had before the powers. As to taller... was that why my clothes weren''t quite fitting right? Was I just getting bigger?


    Dad let me finish up my sandwich in the car, as he was very adamant that we get to the H.A.A.. Once there, he brought me inside, where the receptionist was manning her desk, also armed with a sandwich, "Oh, welcome to the Heroes Association. If you take a number, we can see to an eval-"


    Dad cut her off, "Not here for evaluation. This is my son, Marcus McKenna. He was evaluated last week, and he needs to be seen. Something''s off with his powers, and I want to speak to someone in charge."


    She typed in my name, brought up my file, and her eyes went wide immediately, "Yes, Mr. McKenna, please go have a seat, and someone will be with you shortly."


    Something was up. Had I been flagged about the videos? I thought we would be there for a while, waiting for some department person or other, but Anna appeared only minutes later, and she was moving quickly, but with that air of wanting to appear as though things are normal, "Yes, hi Mr. McKenna, and... Marcus? Yeah, I think I see some issues here. If you''ll come with me Marcus, we can check you over."


    I side-eyed my dad, "I want my dad to come with me."


    "It''s not that kind of-"


    My Dad cut in, "I''m going to be with my son, that''s not a point of debate. Now, we talk out here, or in there, but we are having a talk."


    Anna frowned, and I saw it- they wanted to separate me off. Anna was considering me... she''s a psychic. But if she''s reading my mind, then... oh, I can play with this. I pulled out my phone, and held it up, starting to turn and catch Anna in frame as I booted up TikTok. Anna caught my arm, she knew what I was about to do, "That will not be necessary."


    I dropped a pin on my position to Darryl, Mom, and Mackenzie. I mouthed for Dad to do the same. As I put the phone in my pocket, I started rapid thinking through every single thing I could see, hear, or feel, just following the dopamine for a moment as I pressed the button to start recording. It wouldn''t be online, but I would at least have audio recording of what was going on. My backup settings would eventually send that video to the cloud me and Darryl set up.


    I knew I was being paranoid, but something was raising the hairs on the back of my neck, something I wasn''t quite aware enough to catch... or maybe it was a lack of context. Anna took us back to a doctor''s office, the same one I''d been in previously, and informed us that someone would be along in a minute. I needed to work on a way to keep Anna out of my head. She seemed genuinely nice, but I''d been in school my whole life, and certainly I''d seen people act nice, while really being incredibly mean people. I knew something was wrong, I just didn''t know what was wrong, so best to err on the side of caution, "Dad, stay with me. I''m not sure what the problem is, but they''re going to try to separate us."


    He almost argued the point, but just nodded, "I don''t know what is going on, Marcus, but I''ll stay here. A lot of it is probably the storm you''ve caused with those videos of yours."


    A woman in a lab coat came in and introduced herself, which was hardly necessary. She''d been here on the day of my eval, and she again did a full scan of my body. When I stepped out, my dad was in a chair in the corner, while she looked at my results, "The deeper stuff we''ll need to look over, but it seems you are... an inch taller since we scanned you last week? And... your bone density seems higher from what I''m seeing on the.. huh... that''s weird."


    That''s weird?! Here''s a thing you never want to hear your doctor say when diagnosing you. And doctors don''t say things are weird. Not ONE pediatrician or dentist I''ve ever seen called anything ''weird'' when speaking medically. Dad sat forward in his chair, "What''s weird?"


    The doctor didn''t look to me or my dad, instead looking at the scans, "Well, Marcus''s resting heart rate is noticeably lower, his general bone structure seems to have altered as well, and if I''m seeing this right, his BMI has altered as well. Not in bad ways, mind. For instance, his spinal alignment and posture are much improved, and when we last scanned him, his BMI was pretty much what you expect for a teenage boy who''s a gamer. Now, though I would have to consult a specialist, I would put his BMI in the top 10% for a healthy sixteen-year-old boy."


    "I''m fourteen."


    She finally looked up from the scan itself, and grabbed her tablet, checking over my information, "Huh... so you are. I assume these changes started after your power was awakened?"


    I nodded, "Yes, ma''am. It started on Saturday morning, I guess? I did some bowling with my friend, and after a while, my right arm was different. The ball was lighter, and I had more muscles on my arm, not a ton, but it was noticeably different. Also can''tstop eating since then, and when I switched hands, the same thing happened."


    She considered for a moment, "Do you have any pictures of the alterations?"


    Dad snorted with laughter a moment, as I regarded the doctor, "You... haven''t been online the last twenty-four hours, have you?"


    I sent her a link to my videos, and helped her navigate through them to the points I was talking about. With evidence in hand, she didn''t say much for the next little bit, "These results are incredible, though I don''t recommend this workout routine of yours. That level of workout daily is not advisable."


    "I did it twice today with no issues."


    The good doctor decided they needed more tests, and I was taken out to the gym facilities. Anna did try and have a private word with my dad, but true to his word, Dad stuck with me, saying that anything Anna needed to say, she could say with me present. I, however, had enough, "Alright, Anna, you want me to talk to you? Time for you to do the same. What the hell is up?"


    Anna''s brown eyes shifted a bit, she knew the routine wasn''t working, and she sighed, "Look, you screwed up a lot, Marcus. Those videos? You can''t un-ring that bell. Taking off the mask is a big deal in the hero community, and you did it so big. You Iron-Manned it, and frankly, we''re now all scrambling to figure things out."


    Dad regarded me. Some of it was definitely a shared opinion, "So what? I wait four years to do something about stuff I can change in the here and now? The mask would hold me back."


    "It''s meant to protect you, to protect your family and friends," The concern on her face at least was genuine.


    "I can protect them just fine, and protect them from what? I''m too low-tier to even be worth anyone''s time, and I''m... vaguely working out, and hoping to help homeless people. It''s a Twitch channel, not the destruction of anyone''s power structure."


    She shook her head, "That assumes that everyone against you is reasonable, rational, and thinks along the lines you do. That is just not the case."


    "No it doesn''t. It just means I have to consider the greed of others, and make it in their own self-interest to go with me on what needs to be done," I shrugged.


    We stepped into the gym facilities of the H.A.A., and I was put through every exercise device they had. It was incredibly enlightening for me. I finally had things like a specific speed for my running, of which, I was able to get on a treadmill custom-designed to allow for and measure running speed, as opposed to using set speeds, and having to juggle them. I took off, fully sprinting. According to the display, I achieved a top speed of 28.1 mph. Granted, couldn''t maintain it, but it''s still cool.


    Next up, they had me do pull-ups, planks, and stretches, and rechecked my eyesight, which was now listed as 20/10 in both eyes. Top-rate hearing, and new bloodwork. They had me swim in the pool, and even had me hold my breath underwater. I managed a breath-hold of almost seven minutes. The hardest part of that one was fighting the will to breathe. They put me in a sensory deprivation tank after collecting some of my blood and then injected me with sensors that would map my network of blood vessels and such. The tank was to allow them to isolate external factors.


    Being honest, the tank was wonderful. Desperately need to go to one of these on the regular. It hadn''t even occurred to me how much stimuli I was going through til I was in it. I''m pretty sure there was that FloatOn place, and if I remember correctly, they had a monthly subscription.


    I was calmer after the tank, and after washing the salt and whatnot off, I checked in with my phone and uploaded to Darryl. I erased the original copy from the phone and started a new recording before heading out. I was now sitting in front of a whole bank of doctors with my Dad next to me, and they all looked completely lost. The oldest man there sat forward, "I''m Dr. Chul Kim, head of pediatrics at OHSU. I''ve been called in to consult on your testing, and we''ve been going over your videos and testing here today. Comparative to your previous results during the evaluation, it''s night and day. If we did not have the video evidence of the changes, we would not know that you are the same person who was evaluated this past week.


    "Your father signed off on some documents to allow us to collate with your previous testing results, and it''s.. frankly, it''s completely unprecedented, even amongst enhanced individuals."


    Dr. Kim brought up a graphic, scans of me during my original examination, and my just completed one, "The first thing is how steep these changes are, and how fast they are occurring. For the vast majority of enhanced individuals, changes either occur immediately, on a specific trigger, or develop steadily over time. That hasn''t happened here. The changes you are going through are sharp, and they''re building.


    "We''re very glad that you''ve been monitoring your own advancement, since it is helping us track what''s happening. In every metric we are capable of tracking here, you have advanced in a way that defies considered logic.


    "After discussion with Dr. Al-Katib, our council''s hematologist, we believe we may have at least a proper hypothesis as to what is happening with you."


    I pulled in a long breath, and so did Dad, and I felt him lay a hand on my knee, which I didn''t realize, was bouncing from nervousness. I''d finally have at least some answers going forward. Dr. Kim regarded the other doctors, "According to our findings, which we would like to double-check, Marcus, your body, your entire body, down to the cells, are all improving incrementally by 1%. Your neurological development, kidneys, liver function, metabolic rate, even the precise layout of your blood vessels, and the blood cells themselves, are improving, quite nearly in real-time. In short, though, the reason for the greater growth spurt, and the growth of denser bones, is attributable to this increase, and... to put it a bit simply, every aspect of puberty, for you, is improving incrementally by that same 1%."


    Super-Puberty. I have Super-Puberty.

 Part 6

    "Alright, this emergency meeting is officially called to order. For those attending remotely, please confirm working mic and audio."


    I hated doing these meetings outside of necessity, but the kid had made it a necessity. All of the remote attendees confirmed working audio and mics, so it was time to get started, "For the record, I am John Cox, head of the Heroes Association of America, Portland Branch. The nature of the emergency concerns a recent enhanced individual, one Marcus McKenna, evaluated as an F-Tier hero, the first to appear.


    "His power manifested as a 1% incremental improvement. This was classified as low-tier, with negligible real impact. In practical terms, he wouldn''t have even rated as a sidekick, let alone a full hero in his own right. That is an assessment that is clearly wrong as we are only just truly catching up on. He and his father are currently in a private meeting with a Dr. Kim of OHSU after a council finding of doctors, so we can speak freely in this meeting. Miss Anna here will go more in-depth on the current situation."


    I passed the floor, and Anna stood up, smoothing her skirts before addressing everyone, "As stated, my name is Anna, E-tier telepath, and my job is to work as counselor to fledgling enhanced, to give them the mental health tools to adjust to their new life.


    "Marcus, now going by the hero moniker Aegis, did not want to be a superhero, and did not want powers. One week ago, his evaluation and testing put him as distinctly average for his age group and gender. His testing today puts him as faster than Usain Bolt, who holds the unenhanced record for his running speed. His BMI is top-tier, his senses have improved, but it is not just his physical capabilities that have altered.


    "His speed and clarity of thought have improved, and he can master tasks in moments that would take months or years for anyone else. Finally, he has begun to be able to keep me out of his mind, despite my psychic abilities. This exists in two parts, the first being the speed of his thoughts makes it difficult to keep up with the mental conversation, and the other is legitimate defenses that he is creating subconsciously."


    Everyone in the meeting took that last part with weight. It was one thing that he was getting smarter, or stronger, but if he could keep Anna out of his head, that changed an equation. Psychic intrusion was difficult to defend against in all but the most disciplined minds, and a scared fourteen-year-old boy was managing it. One of the online guests spoke up, "Is it possible that Aegis could manifest psychic abilities?"


    I responded, "We don''t know, but according to what we know so far, if he does, he would become the most powerful psychic that''s ever existed, and he would be capable of it in an incredibly short span comparative to what it takes outside of those who were naturally granted psychic abilities in their awakening. This would most likely be the case with any other superpower were he to achieve them, and there are several, such as magical abilities, and Chi manipulation, that he definitely can gain access to if he can find an appropriate mentor.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "As far as we are able to ascertain at this time, unless it is something purely random, or with no defined metric to be ''better'' at something, he can simply choose to become the best that has ever existed in the history of humanity. In under eight hours, he went from almost never hitting a pin at bowling, to being able to get a perfect score with either hand, and much of the gap time was his own eating, taking notes and chatting with his friend."


    I brought up pictures. The first picture was of Marcus, taken when he entered the H.A.A. for the first time. Then pictures taken from his bowling, from his family getting pictures on Sunday, and before during and after his workouts, "This is less than a week of the improvement. He''s gotten taller, gaining muscle and bone density, heightened senses. He''s gained in confidence even, as he''s come into a deeper understanding of his powers. His metabolic rate is equivalent to that of professional eaters and Sumo wrestlers."


    The questioner from before chimed back in, "And do we have any idea what he wants to do with this ability of his?"


    That man was a consistent pain in the ass, Raphael Jones, and I sighed before responding, "So far, he has locked onto his workouts, and seems to want to see about the plight of the homeless here in Portland. He also has a passing interest in learning some other languages."


    The man on the other side of the screen sat back in his own chair, "And how is it that he progressed so rapidly in such a short span?"


    I sighed, "We don''t have a straight answer on that one yet. The researchers are trying to work it out, but they don''t have what they consider a proper certainty yet. This is a completely new power, and unlike any others that we have seen since enhanced individuals first appeared. Their current hypothesis is that his improvement isn''t as simple as just ''do thing, get 1% better at doing it''. If we look at the bowling incident, you can just about see some progression in musculature as he continued, so it isn''t just his physical ability to roll a ball down a lane that improves as he''s doing it."


    Raphael smiled a big toothy grin, "Then I don''t understand the problem. I mean, he helps people, he works out, he learns to speak and understand. It''s only an emergency if we make it one. One thing I will state, however, is that he is no F-Tier."


    Raphael agitated me. Every meeting went like this. He would challenge the basic premise of the meeting, and grind progress to a halt, "The largest problem is his fame. Marcus ''took off the cowl'' online and has refused entrance into the academy consistently. With his 1%, that status is most likely to rise, not fall, as he gets better at producing content and the world at large becomes more aware of him. It also means he does not have the protection of the cowl. People know who he is, and outside of academy it''s essentially impossible to keep people from realizing he''s enhanced even without the TikTok reveal. And what tier would you say that Aegis is in?"


    "I believe he is the first American S-Tier."


    Insane bastard, "The hell?! He''s a kid! Sure, he''s fast, and sure he learns fast, but sooner or later, he hits the human limit."


    He let his head go to the side, and his grin widened, "That is an assumption based on his power being trapped to human limitations, and the assumption that there is a single true human limit, and we have been given no proper evidence that this is the case on either front."


    My hands cupped over my mouth and nose as Raphael laid it out. He could be psychic, chi-active, and magical, let alone any other area he decided he just wanted to be better at, and Marcus was already refusing to follow guidance, and to put himself in situations outside of regulation. That was here and now, so what happens as Marcus continues to improve?

 Part 7

    "Good evening as always, my name is Marisol Reyes, and tonight we have a very special interview, but first: Aegis. Surfacing only days ago via a TikTok video, he claimed to be the self-proclaimed ''world''s first'' F-Tier superhero. Since then, videos of his feats have exploded across social media, certifying his claims to being an enhanced individual. So far we have seen him demonstrate amazing skills and abilities, and further, Aegis has taken aim at a very serious problem in the homeless crisis that exists in his hometown of Portland, Oregon.


    "The first enhanced surfaced nearly a decade ago now, with the first hero, Queen Anansi, making her presence known on her home continent of Africa. While her initial claims of a coming ''Age of Heroes'' seemed outlandish when she first stated them, more enhanced would continue to pop up, from all walks of life. The world''s governments acted quickly, forming their own forms of governmental departments to find, train, and regulate these new individuals.


    "But the identities of the enhanced have been a mystery until just a few days ago, when Portland hero, Aegis, announced himself, and tonight, we have with a very special guest, and the USA''s premiere A-Tier heroine, Crimson!"


    I looked to the side stage, motioning as Crimson came into camera for the audience. Plenty applauded, and loudly cheered. Crimson cut an impressive figure, difficult as it might be to discern her facial feature under the crowned half-domino mask she wore. Her mouth and jawline were visible, but aught else, even her hair. She strode across stage, confident in every step, and draped her crimson cape out behind her as she sat, talking frankly, "I''m honored to be here, Ms. Reyes."


    "Oh, call me Marisol," It was a usual part of my interviews, to keep things casual, but it was made slightly less so by how Crimson stared behind the cowl.


    "Very well, Marisol."


    Gods, if I don''t at least get on the short list for an award off of this, it was never going to happen, "Now, obviously, you are still in training at the US Hero Academy, is that correct?"


    She nodded, "Yes, for two years now, so this will be my junior year."


    "What was it like for you when you first discovered your powers?" Best to get the softball questions out early, stretch out the viewership, before getting into the meat of the interview.


    She considered a moment before answering, "Well, like most, I was scared. I''m pretty sure every enhanced dreams of getting powers, like most kids do, but dreaming and receiving are quite different matters. I was terrified, but the H.A.A. took care of me, made certain I felt safe, secure, and led me through the entire process to now."


    I nodded, giving my intense emotional listening face, "I imagine it can be quite lonely, being a super."


    She clearly didn''t like the question as she spoke, "It can, but there are others like me at the Academy, even other mystical enhanced."


    "I assume, like the rest of us, you all found out about the newest enhanced, Aegis, at the same time?" Okay, let''s milk this.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    At that, Crimson sat forward, forearms on knees, and I could see her foot shifting, "Oh, we didn''t even find out right then. We were all in class when he dropped that bomb, and much like regular schools, teachers tend to frown on it when you start doom-scrolling TikTok in the middle of class."


    I nodded, "And how do you feel about his decision to unmask himself?"


    Crimson shook her head ruefully, "I''m so against that choice. Like, the first day of class, we''re essentially shown a video about why we wear masks, and use secret identities. Of course, the biggest reason is not to endanger our families, but he just dumped it out there for the world to see, and the things he can do are incredibly interesting."


    Huh, not the expected response... oh God, they sent me a sixteen-year-old. You tend to forget about it with the costumes, but she was still a girl, "You sound excited by him. What interests you about Aegis? And what can we expect from him when he enters the academy?"


    She twitched her head, with a slight smirk, "Oh, that''s easy. He rejected entrance to the academy."


    "He what?!" I blurted it out. It was out of pocket, but... who rejects academy entrance?


    Crimson kept going, however, "Oh yeah, he fully rejected it, multiple times now. As to what interests me about him, some of it is that. As far as I, or anyone else knows, no enhanced has rejected academy entrance. I mean, it''s one of the few places where we can really be our full selves, around other kids our own age who are going through the same thing, but I think it''s different for him."


    Her speech gave me the time to recover. We were already off-script for the interview, "Different how?"


    Despite the mask, I could actually feel her roll her eyes, "Well, I mean, it''s his powers. Sure, I''m a powerful sorceress, but outside of that, what I do is just what I do. I watch YouTube videos, I hang out with my friends, and get bored in class. It''s me, it''s my time. It''s the same for pretty much all of us, that outside of whatever powers we may have been granted, we''re just people. If I''m understanding his explanation of his abilities, he... doesn''t have that. Anything he starts doing, his powers improve. Even amongst supers, only .01% of the population of Earth, I''ve never heard or read about any powers like that."


    Madre de Dios, this girl had no polish for interviews, "For the viewers at home, how is that so much different?"


    She was reaching for the words, "His powers are all the time. Yeah, someone might have something like a healing factor, or they might be super agile, but their abilities fall within a window, and outside of that, we''re like anyone else out there in the world. Each of us feels a little alone with our powers, but we can set them down. For Aegis, every single thing he touches is altered by the powers. So, like, the bowling, the skeeball, the physical exercise, all of those are only improving like they are because of his Incremental Improvement. Anything he learns, he masters, so what are his accomplishments? What''s his, and not his powers?"


    I considered her words, "Well, I would imagine he must feel very accomplished with everything he can do with these abilities of his?"


    Crimson sat back a bit, and sighed, "Imagine you had magical reporter powers, that your entire career was due to powers you had no control over, that it was just an inexorable fact of life that you would be the greatest reporter in the world. How would it feel to get awards for something you didn''t have to put effort into? That you couldn''t even call your own? That''s Aegis."


    It was dead air for several seconds, or at least I thought it was until I felt the tears running down my cheeks, "That... I can''t even describe how horrific that would feel to know that. It''s... it''s not fair... and he''s fourteen... What does that do to someone?"


    Across the country, in a small house in Portland, Marcus laid in bed next to his sister Merida, reading Anne of Green Gables aloud, inventing voices for all the characters as he read. Merida yawned, and snuggled into her brother''s side. Mackenzie smiled silently from the hallway, and shook her head, feigning disinterest as she put her earbuds in to go practice kata.

 Part 8

    Well... fuck.


    Okay, so after the H.A.A. thing, I got good news and bad news multiple times. The good news was that the first of my revenue from the online blitz hit, so... I''m kinda rich. I had dad sign on as my manager, and after sending half of it to the IRS, I insisted that the rest go to paying out the family debt... well, almost all. I did upgrade my computer, and did my own clothes shopping for school, and oh look, another inch taller. I''m almost as tall as my dad, and I feel like I''m gonna pass him, which feels... weird, in a way I can''t describe. Also good, with the extra money, our Labor Day family weekend got significantly upgraded, and we got to go to Disneyland. I got a tourist hat and shades for while we were at the park, so I could just hang (Learned my lesson from the Jersey Mike''s and a whole list of other places)


    Here''s where the bad news starts. My OPM workouts aren''t really getting results anymore, and I''m pretty sure I know why. Essentially, my body has caught up with the workload, and my endurance and recuperation times have dropped enough that it just doesn''t feel like working out anymore. Basically, same thing that happened with the bowling ball. I haven''t gotten lighter, but because of repetition, it''s no longer a challenge for my body.


    But, good news, Mackenzie seems to have figured out a use for my abilities. Bad News, it''s being her sparring partner. At first, when we went back to karate, she was a bit upset that I was advancing ahead of her, even though she''s been religious at practicing. This lasted until we talked, and I mentioned that she shouldn''t feel bad- It wasn''t actually me, it was just my powers, and they would keep me ahead. I''d hoped that would just console her a bit, but instead, she has it in her head that I am now The Perfect Sparring Partner. I mean, she''s not wrong, per se, but it doesn''t make it feel any better.


    We got going at the thing, and after a bit, I was responding to every attack, and I started to notice some holes in her form. Mackenzie is an insanely aggressive attacker, and every time you attack, you expose a weakness. As well, attacking so aggressively, she was burning herself out, so really all I had to do was maintain a minimal blocking effort to run out the clock and wait for her to slow down. Then ''pop'' ''pop''. It was a bit of trouble explaining it, but with the help of Sensei Bill, I got better at the ''explain to people what they''re doing wrong without destroying their sense of self'' skillset.


    Sticking to maintaining the technical workout, rather than building, I started broadening my horizons. I learned to skate and rollerblade, not Xtreme Olympics level, but I can use them now to get back and forth to school well enough. Mom enforced a carpet ban on filling up my Sundays, requiring that I take a self-care day each week. So I''d play Minecraft, a couple of other games, watching anime, but then, I happened across a show when I was bored: The Joy of Painting With Bob Ross. This bore investigating. I mean, I liked listening, but really, why not learn to make some happy little trees? The first couple were... more the idea of paintings, but with confidence in the power, I went ahead and got to work on some art. Mom approved of this, then apparently hit me with a full list of old... Public Broadcasting? shows. Dad thought it was silly, but y''know, it was kind of insane. Did you know that Mr. Rogers talked about the JFK Assassination to kids?! Oh my God! Where was our cheerful talk about the wonders of Covid back in 2020?


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    Pretty much my whole week before school started turned into a blur. Some last-minute clothes and stationery shopping, got my textbooks for the new year and just read them ahead of time. With all the reading and typing I''ve been doing, trying to keep up with Twitch stream chats, I was slinging through the books like nothing. I still dread the book list for English: nothing is going to make yet another year of Ex-Patriate novels better, powers or not.


    The coach was despondent to hear I wouldn''t be joining any teams, but he got it. I mean, fundamentally, it would be cheating, and I didn''t like the ethics of it. I''m supposed to be an example of some sort, so what would it say if I took some kid''s spot who''s been working his whole life to get there? Nah, but the coach did ask if I would consider being a team manager, maybe run drills and stuff, look over the playbooks, and that was more satisfactory, so I did agree.


    I was all set. I was ready for school... and I fucking beefed it, repeatedly. It wasn''t even the extra attention. I''d anticipated that, which was one of the reasons I didn''t take the bus to school. And no, it wasn''t really the classes either, those were mostly boring with some distractions. I did great with the boys basketball team... and then repeatedly fell on my ass at the girls'' practice. How? Well, let''s recap the thought I had before each time I ate court:


    So pretty- WHAM!


    She has the bluest ey- "FUCK!"


    Wait, no can''t touch- "SHIT!"


    Aimee and I had been in school together for years, but apparently this year, she decided to go from the prettiest girl in our class to "Melt brain". And I actually got sent to the nurse''s office cause Coach was worried I might have a concussion from hitting the ground so many times. And it isn''t like I was like that around all of the girls, just... you know, the really gorgeous Italian one, with perfectly curly hair, and who smells awesome just all the time. I should know, my sense of smell got better the last couple of weeks.


    She tried talking to me, and I tried to remember the English language I''d been speaking almost my entire life, but I''m gonna go learn like twenty-some odd new languages to sound like a jackass around her in. I couldn''t concentrate for the rest of the day, and it was driving me nuts. But it''s like Crimson said, I don''t really have accomplishments. My powers have them, so even if someone that hot would go out with ''me'', it wouldn''t be... me. FUCK! I was smarter than this a couple of hours ago!

 Part 9

    "Welcome all to AegisCast. I''m your host Aegis, and we have here my best friend Darryl. Today, we''ve got a whole bunch of things to talk about, the first of which is ''Aegis, why do you have a podcast?'' It''s a good question, and one that I deeply want to get into, but first a word about our sponsor, Raid Shadow- Nah, I''m kidding, there aren''t any sponsorships for this podcast."


    Darryl tried to hide a laugh, and I raised an eyebrow at him, "Nah, nah man, laugh. We''re allowed to have fun with this my dude."


    I turned my attention back to the subject, "As to why a podcast? Well, fundamentally, I''ve realized that I need a platform to operate from, one that I can have control of, and can talk with people on. It''s pretty simple, but I''m starting to notice a trend that simple works really well most of the time.


    "So let''s get into the meat of today''s discussion: Homelessness. I took off the cowl because of Fred, and so we should start there. So let me introduce the very first guest, a Portland native, Fred!"


    I motioned across our table to where Fred sat, his pit mix happily wiggling and it''s tail slapping into Fred''s chair, "Um, hey, thank you for having me here, and thank you for food man. It''s too much."


    I nodded, and I shuffled a little, "So Fred, let''s get right into. Can you tell us a bit about yourself? And how you became homeless in the first place?"


    Fred took a bite of his sandwich, and considered for a moment, "Well, I mean, I was never exactly rakin'' it in, but things were pretty decent. I worked construction, and for a long while, business was boomin'', ''specially with everyone comin'' to Portland, y''know. So I didn''t really pay the rent increases no mind at first, I mean, I had a full-time job, things were good. We went over to My Father''s Place on Wednesday nights for the board game nights."


    "The bar in downtown, right?" Chimed in Darryl, making sure the audience knew what was being talked about, and he did some editing work to bring up a picture of the bar for the viewers so they could see it.


    Fred nodded, "Yessir, young blood. Things were goin'' good, and then the work dried up. I was with a local construction company, and helped build a bunch of the new apartments around town. Eventually, some bigger companies came in, and what were supposed to be local apartments got bought up by some company from back East, and they wouldn''t hire us. It sucks, but we got ourselves some side gigs, and I started doin'' Uber, so it was workin'' out, ''til my car broke down."


    Hm, need to focus in, "You mentioned your rent went up. Can you talk about that a bit more in-depth?"


    "Oh sure, king. I got a place with a buddy o'' mine, on out on Sandy. It was out away from the city, but that made it cheaper. We were rentin'' for about 900, and it was pretty good. Place had a little gym, pool, hell, it had a sauna, and this little steakhouse bar just outside and a Subway. First rent jump went to I think 1250, and yeah, things got tighter, but the city was talkin'' bout how they were raisin'' the minimum wage, and put in a clause to limit the rent bumps."


    Darryl punched in numbers on his laptop, and I made a mental note that I needed to upgrade his rig. It was decent enough for basic schoolwork and whatnot, but I could literally hear the laptop pushing trying to keep up between it running the video, audio, and Darryl interacting with chat. However, Darryl did come up with some info, "Looking online through apartment listings, and that same apartment that you live in... what, eight years ago for 900/month, now rents for 1800 a month, plus bills and a parking fee. Also looks like they added on a $50 pet rent fee, so figuring for average usage, you would be looking at... north of $2,000 a month before you''ve bought groceries. That''s so fu- Oh sorry."


    "Dude, it''s the internet, there is no swear jar," I chuckled a little bit. Darryl''s slip-ups actually helped. This is a big subject, and having some quick bits of levity would help keep everyone''s attention a bit. Turning my attention back to Fred, "Now, of course, this is Portland. There are programs in p-"


    He was already shaking his head, "Them programs are bullshit! Oh yeah, we''ll help you out with food stamps, but don''t you go gettin'' a job, or we''ll be killin'' that first thing. Unemployment? It pays like, one-eighty-five a week, and you gotta claim any work you get before you get paid for that work, so if you get screwed, you''re just out the money. Man, that shit won''t even cover my rent, and it''s not like the stamps actually get you enough food t''eat either. And oh yeah, there''s low-income housin''. Applied for that shit back in 2018, and I still ain''t heard back from ''em. Shelters? Well, basically, I''d have to give up Samson here. I''ve had this guy since he was a pup, so what, fuck him for bein'' a dog? And he''s a pit, so apartments don''t want ''im, he''s a ''dangerous breed''! Motherfucker, this dog''s afraid o'' squirrels! And that''s only the surface level shit-"


    Fred launched into a fifteen minute long rant about every facet of how bad he was getting screwed. It was.. it was a lot, and I''ll be honest, I was the least productive member of the team as I listened. His wasn''t even near the worst story, and again and again, Darryl was confirming any information, popping up images, linking to relevant articles and statistics for the viewers. I meanwhile, was just sitting back in my chair, listening to every horrific moment of it, asking some follow-up questions, and then getting the confirmation of the accuracy of what Fred was saying from Darryl. It was all so fucked... I mean, how do you even say it better than that?


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    We wrapped up the podcast, just over an hour, and I''m not sure I remember most of it past Fred''s story. When we finished getting everything shut down, I asked Fred to hang out a moment, "I wanna hire you."


    Fred considered a moment, "Whatta you need built, player?"


    I shook my head, "I need someone who actually understands what it is to be homeless, someone who''s been there, and that can articulate it."


    "Man, I ain''t articulate. I''m pretty sure I was swearin'' every other word at a point."


    I''d read something about this, "I know, and that''s better. There are multiple studies that show that people who swear are more honest than people who don''t, and I don''t want tragedy porn, where I pick people for the ''optics''. I need someone to help me. I can learn, but only by experience, and I''m not homeless. I can''t really learn that, and trying to would just be... it would be a mockery. That''s not cool."


    He reconsidered, "You really are gonna try to do it, aren''t you? You''re gonna try to end homelessness."


    "Yeah, but there''s so much conflicting information out there about what the problem is, and after listening to you, I get it: It''s all of it. It''s all some insane back-building loop of misery. I need you as a consultant, and I can pay. I can get you a place, we''ll call it a corporate apartment, and yeah, Samson too. It won''t be the lap of luxury, but I need help, and failing all else, you''re an adult with a driver''s license, and nothing better to do with your time right now."


    First step from there was getting Fred into a hotel while I worked on getting him an apartment. I ended up putting him in a Super 8, since they offered a full breakfast, had no issue with dogs, and solid enough wi-fi. Next step, we got him some groceries, proper dog food and treats, and upon inspecting his belongings, we trashed most of it, and just bought him some new clothes, and while we were at Target, I also bought Darryl a laptop, cause the sound from his old one was coming in over the mic. It was Target when things went... sideways a little. Darryl took Samson to go play in the dog park, so it was me, Fred, and my mom, who was driving us around. She''d been slightly worried about the idea of me being around a random homeless man, but I did manage to impress upon her that I was, in fact, an actual superhero, and could outrun cars on side streets.


    The manager at Target spotted me coming through, and it made a lot of things easier, cause she was only too happy to help out with a whole host of things. I got why, I was a celebrity now, so it didn''t matter who I was, but the what. I was "with" the H.A.A., and as I started to realize, the only superhero in the whole of Oregon. Anna and Adam weren''t natives, Anna being a transfer like most of Portland at this point, and Adam''s job had him moving around the country to do evaluations and awaken powers. If I were a normal kid, we''d have been treated like we were about to rob the place, but since I''m Aegis, I was a publicity and autograph opportunity.


    But what went wrong was in relation to Fred. We got the shopping done well-enough, got him a full set of proper clothes, shoes, full work-up, and I set up a barber appointment for him. There was a place downtown across from a cupcake place that not only did a proper hot towel shave, but also offered whiskey and cigars to their patrons. I figured... he''s been through a lot, and he could use it. I was setting it up while Fred was getting changed in the bathroom after we checked out. Mom seemed concerned, as he was taking a while. I said I''d go check up on him, and went into the men''s room, when I heard it: weeping, "Fred, you okay man?"


    He stepped out of the stall, wearing his all new clothes, and wiping his eyes, "Sorry man, I''m good."


    "You don''t have to be, you know. I cry, too."


    He shook his head, "You don''t have to make me feel better, man."


    I furrowed my brows, "I''m not tryin'' to. Two weeks ago, my entire life got thrown off a cliff, and I can''t really talk with anyone about it. Even other supers out there, they''ve got powers, yeah, but their powers are limited, like Crimson said, they can put them down, walk away. For me, though, it''s... everything, and there''s just so much pressure. So please believe me, I get things being too big."


    He started to slowly weep again, "It''s just, these clothes, they''re the first clothes I''ve gotten in over five years that someone else ain''t worn before me. For real, whatever you need, I got you. I just-"


    Fred started crying again, and I went on the instincts instilled by my mom: I hugged him. It was the final crack in the dam, and he cried, hard. Thank God I worked out, cause his knees buckled, and his whole body shook. I''m not sure how long we were there, but I didn''t feel saying things was a thing right now. I helped Fred gather up his stuff, throw out his old clothes, and we caught up with Mom. She didn''t ask any questions, at least not until Fred was situated in the barber''s chair, "Marcus, is Fred okay?"


    "No. It''s more than the homelessness itself, Ma. I''m pretty sure that I''m the first person to hug him since before this began, and that can''t be good psychologically. He cried cause he was wearing new clothes. Every time I look at this thing, it''s more of a monster than the last time I looked, like a hydra. It feels like, even if I take out one problem, the problems''ll multiply. I mean, how do you deal with that?"


    My mom regarded me for a moment, "Well, the trick to the hydra is burn off the stumps so they don''t grow back, but the key to that is knowing to do it. I know it''s huge right now, sweetie, but you just need to make sure you do your research. You can do it, I have absolute faith in you."


    I needed more resources. Yeah, money was a part of it, but I need legitimate resources. Fred was part of that, I physically couldn''t do all of this myself. I''d need to incorporate, to become a stronger entity for the changes, but most of all, I needed a lab. I needed to be able to carry out experiments, and in turn, get a better idea of the potential solution. But where the fuck do you get a lab to experiment on homelessness?

 Part 10

    School continued apace, and I got back on physical improvements. The trick was to change the workouts themselves, since basic push-ups, sit-ups, and squats weren''t cutting it anymore. Burpees replaced push-ups, planks replaced sit-ups, and I added weight to the squats. I got a treadmill, set it for max incline for the run, as well as adding weight there as well, everything I could do. I realized how much I was actually doing when my dad walked in on me one time, I was doing handstand push-ups, reading a book on introductory economics, and listening to my Spanish lessons on my earbuds. I can''t help but think this was actually a weirder situation than anything else he could''ve walked in on me doing . Darryl found a parkour place downtown, and both they and the downtown rock gym were willing to forego membership fees for some ad-time on social media, so apparently, we''ll be heading toward Spider-Man training now.


    Fred was already giving a bunch of returns on investment. For one, the first thing he''d bought after I gave him his ''recruitment bonus'', was to get a used car, an old Subaru Baja, forest green. I mean, it''d seen better days, but he showed up to get me for school, and had McDonald''s with him when he did. I sat in the backseat, mostly cause I needed to work, and I didn''t want to distract him while he was driving. I needed a workspace. Getting practical work done at the house was a problem, two sisters, Mom, and Dad made it difficult to really concentrate. I''d already converted the shed out back for the podcast, but I needed more space. I needed a map of Portland, a big table for it, white boards. I also needed more money. Yes, I was making frankly embarrassing amounts of money from my online work, but the fact remained that whatever the solution to all this was, money was a key factor, and it could all go away before I even got close.


    I need passive income, income that comes in regularly, that doesn''t require my effort to maintain it. There were ways to do it, but they were mostly for adults, not a fourteen year old. I considered Fred for a moment. Hm... I needed more employees, so I need a finance guy. Not terrible, and Dad had mentioned I needed someone to manage my money. I''d wanted to learn how to do it myself, but for now, I wasn''t there, and with everything else my schedule was getting tight. So I need, finance, and I need marketing... I need to talk to Dad. I''m pretty sure I''m gonna need to incorporate. Not precisely sure what''s involved in that, but the faster I got to it, the better. I dropped a quick text to Dad that I needed to talk with him after work, and Fred told me all about his new apartment, and how he''d heard from his sister for the first time in six years.


    At school, things were still busy, although, being frank, it was mostly getting more boring. To relieve boredom, I started analyzing my teachers, how they taught, how they did or did not keep our attention. I started doodling... or, I thought it was doodling, until I realized that it was actually Aimee I was drawing. She was constantly there in my head, and no, practices with her were not going terribly better. The 1% was fighting me, cause despite knowing I needed to focus, to help her and the team get better, my brain just kept derailing into every feature of her. I tried speaking, but it came out as drivel, I lost sentences mid-thought. God Damn, get a grip man! It''s not happening, she''s just out of your league. Now, come on!


    Socializing in school was... interesting. Several groups formed within the student body, the most prolific being that of the Hangers On. People who had never talked to me, or worse, a number of the people who''d spent their lives tearing me down one way or another were now talking about how they knew I had it in me. Yeah, sure, Kyle knew I''d have superpowers one day, that''s totally why he''d kept taking my lunch money. Then there were the ones who were scared of me, like I might suddenly Hulk out at any moment. Those ones really concerned me, I mean, I don''t want people to be afraid of me.That sort of steadily took care of it however, after I went head first into a locker door cause Aimee. Kinda difficult to be afraid of someone who keeps nearly concussing himself.


    The third group were convinced I was just doing all this for clout, the typical stuff you expect from that part of the YouTube comments section. The final group was worrying, though, because they seemed to be taking my status personally. Not just the money, but pretty much the entire aspect of my having powers, pretty much every aspect of my existence now offended them greatly. And it wasn''t some sort of skin deep dislike. It was a problem, but I had no idea what to do about it. Unfortunately, it was about to become a problem I had to face.


    Brad Warner... he''s been a pretty consistent bully for me, Darryl, and a few other kids for years. Apparently, he wanted some real cred for his freshman year. I was waiting around for my ride after classes let out, which was off school property, when him and his two buddies came up to me. It was... a pretty standard routine really, always the same two guys, with the same approach: Make it seem like he ''just wanted to hang'', then eventually when he was sure no one was watching that could get him in trouble, his backup group, Tim and Rob, grab a hold, and he takes out his frustrations with life.


    Today, I just... wasn''t feeling it. I mean, I''d pretty much written the whole thing off previously, since it was less hassle, but I had stuff to do. As he came up, plastered on smile wide, I sighed, "My brother in Christ, can we just... not?"


    He was still all smiles, and his buddies chuckled as he responded, "What? I haven''t seen you all summer. I just wanna chat, hang out."


    I rubbed the bridge of my nose, "Seriously? You''ve been using that line since sixth grade. Then you drag it out, and then you have your backup dancers do the heavy lifting, and you take a few swings. Can we just take it as stipulated? I got my first Scout meeting of the year."


    The facade cracked a little. Generally speaking, I''d never broken the routine before, and now, he had to go off-script, "I don''t think I like your attitude."


    Shrugging, I dropped my jacket off. No sense messing it up, I really liked the jacket, and I passed it off to Darryl, who was running up as the crowd began to gather, "Darryl, hold this. No video."


    I stepped forward toward Brad, who seemed to expect an attack, but really, I just trying to get close enough to talk more quietly, "Brad, this isn''t happening, not the way you want. I get it-" I dropped my voice even lower, leaning in, "I know about your dad. You don''t-"


    Mistake. He swung, and I barely dodged back. Sparring with Mackenzie was a wonderful teacher of Miyagi''s admonition, "Best way to stop punch is not be there when it arrives."


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    Brad kept swinging, and at first, I just dodged, then blocked once I had his timing down, "You don''t have to do this."


    "The fuck do you know?!" Jesus, he was just all haymakers. I didn''t even really need the powers for this.


    I kept blocking, being certain to lead the fight so the Tim and Rob stay on the same side as Brad, and kept my voice low, "About... getting bullied?.... About having someone... take their rage out on me... for things I never did?... Gee, no idea!"


    He shook now, he was throwing everything into it, but he wasn''t a trained fighter. Greater anger does NOT improve aim. If he would just throw a jab, a feint, try to draw out an attack from me, he''d probably get somewhere with this. I knew how to deal with this, just keep defending, and just like Mackenzie, he would tire out. I didn''t have to swing back, I just had to maintain.


    Internally, I could see every open spot, every weak point, I knew how to take him down. Truthfully, I could''ve won these fights a long time ago, but I just... I don''t want to hurt him. Now that I think about it, though, that probably made it worse. He''d probably never realize ''til later in life, but he was trying to confirm that this was just how the world worked, and I kept refusing to oblige him. Ah, crap.


    The minions had decided to step in. Tim rushed me, going for a straight tackle. Before I might have tried to block, or take stance, but sparring and classes came together. I stepped forward, letting a hit from Brad catch me in the shoulder, and spun, grabbing Tim as he charged, and politely escorted him into Rob, who froze in place at the sudden change, "Sorry guys, A and B conversation. C your way out of it."


    Brad hesitated a moment, and I seized it, "We don''t gotta do this, man. Just... stop."


    He was breathing heavily while Tim and Rob worked their way to their feet. He didn''t respond, but I looked to the wonder twins, "Guys, just... no. Just walk away."


    Bullies aren''t highly heroic. They''re not doing this for an even fight, or anything approaching it. It''s dominance they''re after, which is why they pick people like me, that they know won''t fight back or can''t fight back. I made a shooing motion at them, and they decided that was the cue to leave. I wasn''t prey anymore.


    Before, I''d made the excuse that I was a pacifist, but what was that quote that made the rounds a couple of years ago? "If you don''t have the capability or willingness to fight, then you''re not a pacifist. You''re harmless."


    My powers meant I could never never shut off the learning in my head, and some of that was self-awareness. I looked around, and God, it was all just a waste, "Man, I''m hungry. Wanna get Hot Lips? I''ll buy."


    That was the end of the fight. Brad nodded, saying nothing, and we fucked off to a pizza place, while I texted Fred that I wouldn''t need a pick up. He let me know he''d compiled a list of shelters and food banks around the city, and we ordered pizza. We crashed into a couple seats outside with our food, and for a while, said nothing to each other, just putting away food. It was Brad who finally broke the silence, "So, like, what''s it like having powers?"


    "What''s it like not having powers? I don''t know, sometimes it''s great, sometimes I wish I''d never gotten them. Like, every time I look at things, I see all the ways they''re being done wrong, all the ways everything''s failing, but what do you even do about it? Before, I barely paid attention to it, but now... it''s always there. Like, okay, Ms. Wilson''s obsession with the ex-Patriate novels, like Old Man and the Sea. Written by a bunch of guys who made a ton of money, fucked off to Europe, and wrote all these novels that amount to saying ''don''t bother trying to make your life better. It won''t work, and even if it does, you''ll just be worse off than if you never bothered in the first place''. Why the fuck would you want kids reading these things?


    "Would anyone listen to me? Nope, I''m fourteen, so unless I give some asinine lecture on it, removing all possibility of argument, anything I say gets written off," I was gesturing wildly with my soda as I talked.


    Brad laughed genuinely, "Oh you gotta tell her that!"


    I chuckled to myself, "Hell no, she loves those books. It''d be like ruining Star Wars for a diehard fanboy."


    We talked about a bunch of stuff from there, but honestly, it was all idiotic crap... and it was wonderful. So much of my conversations these days were all about my powers, especially with Darryl. Having an idiotic chat about MC streamers and who the hottest girls in class were was a blessed relief (I kept Aimee''s name out of it, cause I didn''t trust myself with it). When we finished, I ordered an Uber to get Brad and me home. When we got to Brad''s place, I asked the driver to wait for me, and hopped out, following up to Brad''s apartment. It was a decent enough apartment, but I was armed with knowledge now, and they were likely overpaying for it.


    As we approached, his dad stepped out from the stairwell, "Hey! What''re you doin'' gettin'' home late? I said 4."


    Brad tensed, and I stepped in front of him, "My fault, sir. I was catching up with him after school."


    The man stepped forward, and I could smell the alcohol. Fuck. "You stay outta this if you know what''s good for you."


    I continued walking forward, talking as I came up to him, "I don''t mean any disrespect, Mr. Warner. I just didn''t want Brad getting in trouble for something I did-"


    I punched as soon as I was in range, my fist connected squarely just below the rib cage, and put my whole body behind it. It was really just Brad''s strategy, and it worked as long as you didn''t constantly use it for three years. His whole body seemed to ripple from the hit, and I stepped back just before he went to his knees and vomitted, "Brad, go inside."


    It was an order, and Brad hesitated a moment before complying. Brad, I did not want to hurt. This MFer, though... oh yeah. I knelt next to him, as he kept trying to breathe, "You have one hour. Go to the nearest cop shop, and confess everything you''ve done to him, to your wife, to anyone. You don''t post bail, you don''t plead not guilty."


    He struggled up to his feet, looking like he was ready to fight, "And what''re yo-"


    I hit him again, this time in the kidney, "I beat you into a coma, and make sure you never move your arms or legs again. You offend me."


    He was down again from the hit, and this time, fell onto his side. I stood tall over him, "You and my dad, you''re both called dads. It offends me that you''re even called father, that the two of you can be mentioned in the same breath."


    I didn''t raise my voice, I was the calmest I''d felt since I''d gotten my powers, and I saw the terror in his eyes from it. Anger being expressed in rage, being expressed through screaming and yelling could be a bit intimidating. Expressed through cold, quiet conversation, it forced him to understand I was serious, "Get the fuck gone. Don''t call, don''t write, don''t text, and if you set one foot near any of them again, I''ll know, and there is nothing in this world that saves you from me."


    He got to his feet again, and struggled walking away, while my Uber driver just stared, "I''ll be along in a minute. Just gotta finish something up real quick."


    I went up to the apartment I''d seen Brad duck into, and knocked. Brad yanked open the door, fear in his eyes, "It''s over. If he shows back up, text me immediately. I can be here in ten minutes or less from anywhere in Portland."


    I gave Brad my contact info, and my dad''s for his mom. Incorporating would need more employees, and I could make sure she had enough to afford her apartment, without it being viewed as charity. I got back to the Uber, and on the side where I was out of sight of the apartment, promptly threw up. I hated how good it felt when I''d hit him.

 Part 11

    The Scout meeting went... well, if differently than I imagined. As the first meeting back, a bunch of us were catching up with each other before the meeting, talking about what happened over summer. This part was rather shorter for me for the most part, since, well, I did sort of put up Mr. Beast numbers on my superhero reveal. We were finally called to order by Mr. Bethel, our Scoutmaster, and I''ll confess, I was kind of on auto-pilot for a while... until my name got called. Somewhere in the course of the summer, I had been named to be Senior Patrol Leader. Most of our older scouts had either gotten their Eagle and moved on, burned out, or gone off to college and whatnot. Shit. I mean, it''s a huge honor to be chosen, but it''s a lot of work, and the first thing I had to do was basically restructure the entire troop.


    I called over Russ, who was currently Star, and working on his Life Scout, "Congrats, Russ, you''re now Assistant Senior Patrol Leader."


    Russ nodded, but he wasn''t fully comfortable with me. I got it, I''d gotten notably taller, now one of the tallest kids in the troop, and I was becoming somewhat jacked. He''d seen me at summer camp and we''d been tapped for OA together, so it was a bit disconcerting, I imagine, "Okay, first up: We''ve got a lot of positions to fill. You okay with Darryl as Webmaster? Pretty sure he''s the only one here who can do it."


    He just nodded again. This wouldn''t work, I needed actual responses, "Russ, it''s still me. Yeah, got superpowers. I still watch an inordinate amount of anime, alright? I need input."


    "Yeah.. o-okay. Darryl''s good, but why not him as Assistant?"


    I shrugged, "He''s not really into the leadership stuff. I mean, he''s got this and Denchief, so he''ll be watching over the ankle-biters."


    From there, I looked over the roster. We''d lost a lot of boys, ones who had been around for years, including most of our patrol leaders. We also had a swath of new kids, Tenderfoots. I scanned over the roster, "Okay, let''s set up the patrol leaders. If I''m seeing this right, we''re hyper-loaded on one patrol with our now ''senior'' Scouts. We need to spread that out and mix in the new kids. Pretty sure I remember Kenny playing the trumpet. Offer him Bugler?"


    As we got into the minutiae of it, Russ settled in more, and we started filling out the leadership roles for the troop. Since I was sort of running the show for the boys, I wanted to do a couple of new things, namely set a proper Road to First Class for the new guys and a High Adventure group. The Road helped the new kids get their start and knock out some of their required badges for Eagle, while High Adventure gave the guys who were further along stuff to do. Darryl was unbelievably happy with Troop Webmaster, and God knows I''d had to hear him complain about our lack of web presence enough.


    The organizational stuff took up most of the meeting, really, cause trying to get everyone to follow along was like herding cats. Once we had patrols and basic leadership stuff sorted, I stepped up to the podium, "Alright, troop. First, I want to thank you all for the nomination to SPL. I promise to do my best with this, and to start things off, I want to get an early jump on things. I''d like to do a service project with Oregon Food Bank. There''s a lot of folks in this city that are having trouble making ends meet, and these Food Banks are the only lifeline some of these families have. I''ll be setting up a sign-up sheet, and most likely, there''ll be more than one round of this, so anyone who''s looking to knock out their service hours, this is your open shot to do it.


    "Next, Road to First Class: We''ve got a new batch of Tenderfoots, and we need to get them trained up for their First Class, which is where most of your fun stuff unlocks for Scouts. I want all of you knocking out your required merit badges quickly, so any experienced Scouts who are interested can help them with that. This means that when summer camp rolls around, you can focus on the fun badges, rather than having to do the required. And as well, it leads into my third thing.


    "I want to setup for us to do High Adventure outings, that''s things like backpacking, canoeing, rock-climbing, a ton of really fun stuff, and ultimately, I''d love for our troop to be able to do the Philmont Expedition, if not this summer, then next summer, but we have to get people processed and ready for that. Any questions?"


    The room was mostly quiet, until Darryl raised his hand. I called on him, and he launched, "Okay, so for the new troop website, I was thinking we could do tracking for the First Class and High Adventure groups, and if I can get together with the Librarian, I can do PDFs of all the merit badge books, and we can do videos on the subjects. I mean, it''s not like it''d pay off right now, but it sets us up for future years at least."


    Darryl had been begging for the last few years to get a proper website for the troop, but interest had been kind of low. Now, though, he was in charge of it, and I could see he really wanted to do this, "I don''t see any direct reason we can''t do that, so unless there are objections to Darryl making a bunch of extra work for himself, pretty sure we can say that one''s unanimous."


    We had our first Camporee coming up in October, so we got started on that, and oh God, our supplies were more than a little screwed. I mean, our Troop wasn''t ever precisely well-provisioned, but the state of things when you''re looking at it as the new leader is daunting. Our Quartermaster, Denny, shared a long slow sigh with me. We had about a month to get the inventory in order for Camporee, and it wasn''t pretty. Hmm, could just make new chuck boxes, and have the guys knock out their cooking and woodworking badges in the process of that. I marked it down, and sent it to Russ, while Darryl kept going on about getting more up to speed digitally, including discussion of having an iPad for the troop, and to use Jira and Miro, Darryl was pretty much all energy once you had him engaged. He was always either nearly dead to the world, or Husky-with-the-zoomies, no middle ground.


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    By the time I got home, I''d completely forgotten that I''d asked to talk with my Dad about stuff, so I was a little shocked when he greeted me, "Ah, the prodigal son returns! What did you want to talk about?"


    It took me a moment. It had been a day. Once I remembered, we grabbed a seat in the living room, while Dad cracked a beer, and passed me a root beer. I went over my day, carefully editing around the section labeled, "After school, but before Scouts."


    "So I was looking at it, and I only see one real way forward. I need to incorporate. I was looking at it online, and it''s entirely doable, a bunch of streamers and YouTubers do it, actually, but I need help with that, and well... I''d like you to be my manager, at least until I''m eighteen."


    Dad sucked in a breath, and took a sip of his beer before answering, "Why the sudden rush on this?"


    "I''ve got a lot of things I want to do, and pretty much all of them require me to have money and resources. I''ve got money, technically, but I can''t depend on the internet forever. I need to develop passive income, and I need people to help with the work I want to do. That means some sort of office, employees, and income enough to keep them paid. It''s all too much otherwise, at least if I want to have any sort of life, it is."


    He nodded, considering a moment, "Look, you''ve got a ton of things on your plate right now, just with school and powers. Are you sure you need to be adding more? It won''t get easier from here."


    I sighed, "I know, but I''m on this track now, and I have to keep trying to move forward. There''s so many people out there that need help, and I have the chance to make a real difference, and it sort of loops into the powers. I can''t unsee the stuff around town, and I can''t just do nothing about it. I mean, I''d pay you for your time, say ten percent?"


    Dad quirked an eyebrow, "Ten percent of what?"


    This I had a direct answer for. I''d gone over the numbers for all the videos, and noted down not only the individual amounts, but the total up as well, and pulled it up on my phone, showing it to him, "This is what I make a month."


    Beer came out of his nose, which was more of an indication of just how much I was talking about than all of my number crunching was, "Jesus Christ, ten percent of that is more than I make in a year!"


    I hadn''t really mentioned how much money I was actually making, because it was kind of a lot, and I didn''t want to ding Dad''s pride. He''d worked really hard to get where he was at, he took pride in that work, and I''d basically memed my way into a fortune before I''d even properly started high school, "Uh yeah... that''s sorta part of what I wanted to ask, is for you to maybe... just work with me?"


    He was still just staring at my phone, as he composed himself, "I mean, Jesus. Okay, what sort of company are you talking about here?"


    "I don''t actually know enough to know what kind of company I should form, but I do know one thing: I want it to be employee-owned. I figure it''s better than a union, and it''s better for our employees. I want to work on homelessness, and helping Portland, but in order to do that, I have to get more capital, and more regular income," I sort of shrugged a bit. Christ, this was awkward.


    "And there isn''t another way to do that?", he was calming as he said it.


    I shook my head, "Not a better one. Without my own money, I''d be at the whim of donations, the internet, and investors. This is the only way I can think of to avoid those areas, because like, donations are too wobbly, same with the internet, and investors? Pretty sure I''d actually be putting in more time just trying to make sure they''re not getting one over on me."


    He nodded, and set his beer down, and just sat there for a bit before picking up the conversation, "I know it''s going to sound odd, but I think for you, for what you''re doing, you would actually need multiple companies that work together. One for your homeless relief, a non-profit, and, if you''re really serious, you have to get into real estate. Aside from that... video games."


    "I''m sorry, what?!"


    He put his hands and nodded, "I know, sounds slightly weird, but here me out on this. Video games standardly take a year or more to make, and that holds true because of how long it takes to code, make everything work, and launch product. You don''t have that constraint. I''ve seen you typing, whether it''s on your phone or your computer, and you''ve got that stack of books for coding in the C languages. All you need is an engine to work off of, and some people to help with ideas. For anyone else, the idea would be grossly overambitious, but with your powers, I think that you could shrink that timetable by leaps and bounds."


    I considered. The coding idea had mostly just been my own interest, but there was no reason it couldn''t work. I mean, I''ve been gaming pretty much my whole life, I knew what worked and didn''t work from the gamer side of things, and my name would carry over at least some recognition amongst gamers, "Okay, that sounds good. Any other ideas?"


    "I know it doesn''t come naturally to you, but there are plenty of shows out there that would love to interview you, and compensate you for your time."


    From there, we got into some more detail stuff, but Dad agreed, we shook on the deal, and he said he''d have paperwork for me by the weekend. And that''s the story of my Dad quitting his job.


    I was wiped. I grabbed leftovers from dinner, reheated them, and just sort of vegged out on my computer for a bit, watching this one anime I found called Silver Spoon. Slice of life anime at its finest, and I was good and settled in when my phone pinged. A message request on Facebook... Aimee. OH shit! I changed shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and collected myself... yeah, I realized it was purely text after the fact.

 Part 12

    Aimee and I talked via text, which went a bit better since I didn''t have to look her in her eyes. It was mostly talking back and forth about stuff at school (Like with Dad, I edited around what happened with Brad), and I talked about Scouts. Aimee was super-excited I got named SPL, but didn''t actually know what the position did, and she offered for her and her friends to help with some of the service projects. It sort of ended on a weird note, with her saying good night, then right before she signed off, she wrote, "What would you do if I kiss you right now?"


    And boom, logged out. I just sat there staring at the screen, frozen, ''til I realized she was just playing. Like, ha ha, totally had you there. I shut down for the night, and got some sleep. The next day, Darryl informed me the Troop site was ready to go live. Yeah, no possible way he coded a website between the end of the meeting and this morning, so clearly, he''d already built it, most likely during the summer. He just needed the official sanction. Our prior Scoutmaster hadn''t been all that good, and he was really only in it for his own kid, so they dipped as soon as his son hit Eagle. It sucked, but there was nothing to be done about that equation except to change what we did now.


    I had Fred swing me by and pick up Brad, sharing breakfast with him, and just talking. His dad was in custody, and with some priors, he was looking at actual jail time. They would have someone from CPS coming by. I made sure to remind him to have his mom call my dad, to make sure she had a job that could see them through. We were just finishing as I got to school, and I could see some hurt in Darryl''s eyes when he saw Brad get out of the Baja with me. Brad pretty much ditched me immediately, and I caught up with Darryl, "Dude, it''s not what you think. Things went down last night, and... it''s not my thing to tell, just like your stuff."


    He idly kicked at non-existent rocks, "I guess."


    I put my hands on his shoulders and made him look me in the eyes, "You are my best friend. Powers don''t change that, other people don''t change it. Now come on, take me on a tour of the site."


    He perked up and brought up the site. He''s insane. So this site has not only a troop calendar, and the usual trappings you expect, but pdfs for every merit badge book, complete with links to instructional videos, online sign-up sheets for things like the upcoming Camporee, an online payment structure for dues and whatnot, and even links for the troop''s social media, and he even set up a Discord server for the Troop, complete with roles, separate voice and text chats, an announcements page, the whole nine. And he wasn''t done, "So, I was thinking."


    "What?"


    He shuffled like he was thinking it over, but powers or no, he''d done this constantly, playing like an idea was off-the-cuff, when really, he''d already fully thought it through, "Okay, so I know you want Eagle, but hear me out here. What if you went past that? I mean, the history of our troop is pretty bad about kids ghosting us as soon as they get pinned. So what if you did the opposite? Get every badge, every award. I mean, why not do it? You''ve got four years, and Philmont already takes care of the 50-miler award."


    Every badge... it would be an insane consideration. There were more than a hundred merit badges, and the side awards were especially difficult, it wasn''t just a matter of ''do the thing'', so the chances that you could do it all was so remote as to not bother considering. Unless... I could do it, I could learn it all, and I mean, a lot of those badges had solid implications for me outside of Scouts, both for whatever future I pursued outside of my powers, and for my powers themselves. I grinned wolflishly, "Yeah, you know what? Let''s do it."


    I was snapped out of my conversation by my homeroom teacher, Mr. Evans calling to me, "Marcus, Mrs. Brown would like a word with you at the guidance office."


    I nodded, grabbed my bag, and rolled out for the guidance office. When I got there, I had to wait a little bit, until she popped out her door, "Oh good, Mr. McKenna, come in."


    There was a non-zero percent chance that Brad had blabbed about things, so it was best if I waited for her to speak first, and confirm what this was about. I sat down in the chair across from hers as she closed her office door, and she took a seat at her desk, "So, Mr. McKenna, I wanted to talk to you today about how you''re adjusting this year."


    Oh, totally different thing, "I mean, I won''t say it hasn''t been strange, and there''s a lot of pressure, but I''d like to think that I''m handling it... pretty well."


    She nodded solemnly, and adjusted her glasses before speaking again, "I can''t imagine what you''re going through right now, and I''m not going to try and pretend like I do, at least on the whole powers side of things, but you''re still also a teenager, and that comes with its own unique pressures. I would, however, like to talk to you about the incident after school yesterday. Mr. Warner was in here this morning, quite upset and crying about what happened yesterday after school."


    Nope, okay it''s what I thought it was. Shit. Hopefully things wouldn''t to be bad, "Sorry, but yesterday was pretty packed out for me. I mean, school, Scouts, it''s all just kind of a blur of stuff."


    Mrs. Brown gave me the Mom Eye. She knew this routine, and she knew I wouldn''t give up any information I didn''t absolutely have to. No kid did, not if they understood at all how this thing worked. I''d been through routines like this a lot over the years, where teachers and administrators would try to get me to snitch, and today was not the day I was going to go down a snitch. Screw that. The counter was, however, that the teachers and admins knew that too, so it was a kind of dance, to try and get information without me being willing to talk about anything directly. After a moment, she sighed, "Mr. Warner said that he started a fight with you, which I''ve obviously heard other children discussing in the halls this morning. You bought him pizza, and gave him a lift home, yes?"


    That was almost the story, "I mean, yeah, but I didn''t see it as any big thing. I was never gonna hurt him, and he can''t hurt me."


    Confirm only the story he already gave up. No one would have enough to put the last bit together, "And apparently, it had a lot to do with his home life. You were kind when you had every right to never show him any sort of compassion. That''s rarer than you think, and you should be proud of yourself, but I can''t help but feel like you need someone to talk to. I know the H.A.A. provides counseling, and I deeply believe that you should take them up on it. They know what powers are like, and they''re offering the help for free. If you want someone outside the H.A.A., I have a list here of counselors that would be more than happy to talk with you confidentially."


    The teenager in me immediately rejected the thought, but... God, it was all so much, and the self-awareness I''d been developing said it wasn''t a bad idea to talk to someone, anyone really, but I didn''t trust the H.A.A.. Yeah, free counseling was offered, but I''d had enough of the recruitment crap, and I knew they''d try. It was the same reason I didn''t use their gym, or any of their other offerings. I needed them to back off, and they needed me to give in.


    Mrs. Brown wasn''t done yet, "I also wanted to talk to you about your classes. Your unique abilities have you easily acing your entire course load, even considering the extra-curriculars you''re taking. Your teachers are universally agreed that you can do even more, that it''s like you''re just absorbing everything like a sponge.


    "I want to try something. For one, with your permission, I want to move you up to honors courses, the best we have to offer. Second, I know it''s your freshman year, but you might consider taking the SAT, find out how well you can do."


    I didn''t like the way this was going. Putting me in harder classes was the problem: I''d ace them too... but turning them down wasn''t a great plan either. There was opportunity, but if I graduated early, if I stepped up in grade, it could be a problem. Fact was, assuming they just gave me the books, I could probably close out high school in a matter of months at worst.


    The truth was, though, I was being pulled in so many directions, and without high school, I had no constraints on my days, I could fully try to max things out, and as I looked at Mrs. Brown, I saw it: She was trying to tell me that, without telling me that, somewhat because of her job, and somewhat because of my being a teenager. I slumped in the chair, "I can''t hold onto it, can I?"


    For the first time since I''d gotten my powers, I felt the tears welling up. Was this ability taking this away from me, too? Mrs. Brown came around the desk and sat in the other chair next to me, turning it to face me, "I know you''re scared, but Marcus, this isn''t about powers. There have been plenty of children, geniuses, who have hit the same problem as long as there''s been schooling. You can keep slugging it out through four years of high school, but you can master every single aspect of this so easily, and there is so much more out there for you.


    "This place? It''s holding you back, and I know you don''t want the academy, but really, I don''t think it would get any harder there for you. Maybe at first, but it would be the same thing as here if I''m understanding your videos about your powers properly. Your mind is as unique as your heart, and you''d just be holding yourself back either way, and you''re far too smart not to get that. You''ve convinced yourself this is ''normal'', and you''ve gotten 1% better at telling yourself that."


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    I cried a bit, and Mrs. Brown put a hand on my back, and I could sense her crying too, even as I cried into my own hands, balling up in the chair. She offered to call my mom for me, and I just nodded. She excused herself to get mom''s contact info, and while she was gone, I made a decision. I texted Mom, short and to the point, "Mrs. Brown is gonna call about school stuff. Need time to process. Talk later."


    I put my phone on Do Not Disturb, grabbed up my bag, and went to my locker. I cleared everything out, just stuffing it in my bag, and started walking out. I desperately wanted to be out of the school before... *BRING*. Fuck you, God, couldn''t just give me this one?


    Students emptied into the halls at the end of first period, and I was walking along with the mass of people. They would be heading for second period by now, but what did it matter?


    "Marcus!"


    I knew the voice. Fuck my life, "Hey Aimee."


    She was right there, in every bit of her glory, "Hey, I''m uh... sorry, but I''m heading out."


    Aimee pulled me over to the side of the hallway, "Are you feeling okay?"


    "I just... I won''t be going to school anymore. Sorry," God, I sound so stupid.


    I turned to go, and she caught my arm, turning me around, and I was about to say something, when her mouth connected with mine. Had I stepped? No, if anything I''d gone at least a step back- And that''s kind of when my brain shut off. I felt myself pull her closer, I just wanted to stay there forever, but teachers and hall monitors happen, and the crowd of onlookers didn''t really help with concealing it. I didn''t really say anything, I just nodded dumbly, and we both headed off.


    Getting out of school wasn''t really that difficult, I just walked like I was going to gym class, and then used the side door the maintenance guys were always using. I needed to get clear, but I could feel that kiss, my ability playing it over and over again as I walked off the property via fence-hopping. From there, I hopped Tri-Met, and threw in my earbuds.


    I could''ve called Fred, or let Mom come get me, hell, gone to the H.A.A., but I needed time alone. It was all too much right now, and the last possible thing I wanted right now was other people. Well, not entirely true, I really wanted to go back to kissing Aimee. I mean, God. So yeah, guess that question wasn''t as facetious as I thought.


    But making out not being a real option right now, I opted for getting away from everyone. It really wasn''t that difficult to do in Portland. A series of bike and walking trails actually formed a circuit around the city, so it was really just a matter of getting to the right spot, and you could cross the whole city on foot. I could run it, but it wasn''t really a running kind of mood. Instead, I pulled on my BSA cap, flipped up my hood, and threw my Spotify on a random playlist.


    Crimson was right, as it turns out. My powers took away every accomplishment, nothing I achieved was really mine anymore, not even Aimee. I was taller, more built, and a celebrity thanks to the powers. Scouts, school, most of my video games, even my relationships. Aside from "Watch movies, shows, and play Minecraft" what did I even have left of me? I''d been avoiding the problem forever it felt like, and now the whole house of cards was crashing down. I wasn''t even a month into this thing, and I didn''t have any idea who I was anymore.


    I''m not exactly sure when I made it back to the house, but Mom tried to offer me some food, but I told her I wasn''t hungry, and went up to my room. I pretty much just stayed there, staring at my ceiling, listening to my music, until Mackenzie busted into my room, "GET UP, bitch! We got sparring to do."


    I darted up just in time to nearly take a quarterstaff to the head, and Mackenzie had a devil grin, "We''re starting on weapons tonight!"


    She was holding her own quarterstaff, and when I tried to hedge, she raised both eyebrows, "It''s like this: We can spar out front, or I can swing at you in the bed, but either way, you''re getting a staff swung at you."


    Being rather thoroughly press-ganged, I ended up out front, halfheartedly holding up my quarterstaff in front of me, as Mackenzie limbered up. I didn''t really want to do this, but arguing with Mackenzie just wasn''t worth the effort involved. I put my mouthguard in, and got ready. It essentially followed the familiar pattern: At first, I was having trouble keeping up, but continually, I was getting more on point. I stuck to defense, and I thought I was doing alright, but Mackenzie stopped, an aggravated look on her face, "Fuck''s sake, dude. What is up with you today? Is it about school? Congratulations, the hot girl in your class kissed you. Get your head in the game!"


    I took out my own guard, "NO, it''s not! You wouldn''t get it."


    "What then?! The thing with that Brad kid? What?! What is so bad that you can''t concentrate at all?"


    She kept pestering with the questions, and I snapped, "It''s EVERYTHING! Don''t you get it?! I''ve got nothing! Not even school now."


    Mackenzie blinked, and took stock a second before responding, "What the hell are you talking about?"


    "These fucking abilities. I can''t take any pride in this staff, cause yeah, it''s only because of the 1%. My grades? Oh look, that''s the 1%. My money? 1%! Scouts, art, games, coding, fuck, even Aimee, it''s all the 1%''s, not mine," I was gesturing sort of wildly with the staff as I yelled.


    Mackenzie swung, connecting hard with the staff, "You are an idiot! It''s not your powers, dumbass!"


    I felt the anger well up, and I swung back, and now we were more or less fighting for real, "The hell do you know about it?!"


    She came back, just as aggressively, both with the staff, and the words, "Your powers don''t read to Merida every night. Your powers don''t make you come up with voices for the characters! OR make you sound excited to be doing it, even though you''ve read her the entire Anne of Green Gables series like twenty times now!"


    I barely dodged a swing at my head as I tried to cut in. She wasn''t finished, "It wasn''t your powers that made you give a shit about Fred and Samson, and your powers didn''t make you take up Karate, despite hating fighting, cause you knew it was important to me. It didn''t make you care about Brad, or to keep from hurting Tim and Rob while they were trying to hurt you."


    She just kept coming, not even trying to conserve at all, now switching up between staff swings, and kicks, "The 1% didn''t choose to pay off the house for Mom and Dad, you did. Your ability didn''t choose to ditch the cowl that day, it was you. And Aimee? God damn dude, she''s had a pic of you in her locker for like a year now. She just got tired of dropping ''hints''."


    I caught her leg, letting go of the staff with one arm, and pushed her to the ground with my shoulder, "What?! Bullshit!"


    "It''s a pic of you and Merida. I saw her watching you two, when we went to Rose Festival. The whole place was one giant mud patch, and Mom and Dad wanted to pack it in, but Merida was raising a huge fuss. You remember?"


    I''d been sick for like a week after that. I remembered it, "What? I didn''t see her there."


    She caught my gi, and rolled. By angle, I didn''t have the leverage, and now I was on the ground, with Mackenzie coming up, using my own leg hold to get on top, "Like, I said: dumbass! You took her around that whole carnival, every ride, and you got absolutely soaked, cause she messed up her poncho, and you gave her yours.


    "And since then, Aimee''s been trying to hint to you to ask her out, but you miss it every time. She even asked me about you, but no, you miss every damn signal," She said, trying to maintain advantage.


    I went for straight strength, physically ejecting her off of me, and rolled, swinging to get distance. I was slightly taller now, so I had to keep the distance advantage, "Oh, what hints did I ''miss''?"


    She shot forward, trying to close, "The ''Secret Admirer'' letter? She stopped straightening her hair cause you mentioned one time that you like natural curls somewhere in. Just, so. many. times. And that isn''t your powers, that''s you. It''s all you, like when you dropped Brad''s father! He gave that up when I cornered him this morning. Yeah, the 1% gave you the ability to do it, but you chose it, dipshit!"


    She nearly ran into my elbow, and I stopped right before contact, "Fine. You win."


    We both collapsed to the mat, "It''s just, it''s so hard. Crimson-"


    "Oh come on, bro, she was baiting you." She was panting heavily. We''d definitely gone too hard, but to an extent it felt good. Note for future moments of self-doubt: Fight Mackenzie.


    I slowly shook my head, while looking up, "Why would she care about me?"


    "Aimee, or Crimson? Kinda losing track here."


    I closed my eyes, "Crimson. Aimee... I have a lot of feelings about, but Crimson trying to bait me seems less insane than Aimee liking me, so we''ll go with that one."


    She sat up, "Think about it for a second. Why go off-script? You really think it was a coincidence that they let an academy student do an open interview? I mean come on, she was a plant. Probably another roundabout way of trying to get you to the academy, hoping your ''Super-Puberty'' would guide you toward the girl with the nice body and bare midriff, and just get at you, put you in your own head long enough to make the decision. They didn''t account for you being in love with someone already, cause you dumbassed your way through the whole thing."


    She got up shakily, then offered me a hand, helping me up, "Yeah, your abilities mean you can master just about anything, little bro, but what you do with them? That''s all you, the whole way. Now come on, I need like six massages and the mother of all showers. Oh, and you got some packages today."


    That was weird. I didn''t remember ordering anything. I walked back inside, and geez, yeah, packages... from Huel? The fuck is Huel? Huh, apparently, some sort of nutritional drink. There was a letter on top of one of the boxes from them, and they had sent me a whole selection of their "ready-to-drink" flavors. They wanted to extend me a sponsorship, wanted me to try it out, and if I liked it, and believed it was a good product, that they could talk numbers. Well, okay, then. Mom came up to me, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"


    I sighed, "Better. Me and Mackenzie talked."


    She nodded, with a slight grin, "talked, yeah, it sure sounded like talking from a block away. There are leftovers in the fridge if you''re hungry."


    I hugged Mom, and kissed her on the temple, "Actually, I''m gonna grab a couple of these Huel things I got, and as soon as Mackenzie''s done, I''m taking a shower."


    I got back to my room, turned my phone back to receiving, and it positively EXPLODED with notifications. A ton of them were Darryl checking in. There must''ve been one for every five minutes. I quickly texted him I was fine, and I''d talk to him after school tomorrow. Texts from the school, Mom, Dad, checking in on me. I was tagged in a post on Insta by Fred, showing off his apartment and car, Samson sleeping on an Ikea couch. I smiled, but I really needed to work on getting him some more furniture. That apartment would make a Buddhist think he needed more stuff. He had like a couch, a TV, and a futon. Not a futon frame, mind, but just the actual mattress.


    Finally, a message from Aimee on FB: "Call me" and her phone number. I checked the time, and made the call, "Uh, hey Aimee. This is Marcus. Um, are you... doing anything Sunday?"

 Part 13

    Okay, so Friday I had pretty much to myself, so I had some Huel with my breakfast. The drinks weren''t bad really, and frankly, it was so much easier than eating the same calories in actual food. Dad was in his last two weeks with his office, so he went to work, while Mom needed to go to school to sign me out of classes and whatnot. Merida and Mackenzie were in school, so the day was mine. I figured first priority, I needed to organize some sort of schedule. The easy place to start with that was Scouts.


    Okay, first let''s compile the list of badges I already had:


    First Aid, Camping, Hiking, Swimming, Safety, and Reading, the six I''d needed to be a Star Scout.


    Okay, so just... one-hundred and thirty-two badges left to get... Okay, this could be considered an issue. That... that feels like way too much, so we need to break it down before we move forward. Categories? Required/Non-required was too broad a net. Eighteen required badges for Eagle, we''ll put those off in their own group, but the rest has to be broken down into components. Okay, so handcrafts:


    Animation, Architecture, Art, Basketry, Cooking (Required), Drafting...


    I kept going, but there was one that stood out as a problem: Dog Care. I mean, technically, I could go help at a shelter, but just thinking about it, I knew I would fold like an accordion. I got on the family text-chain:


    Me: "Mom, Dad, I need to get a dog for my Dog Care merit badge."


    Dad: "You can''t just go volunteer at a shelter?"


    Mom: "Dearheart, he swore to eradicate homelessness, revealed his superhero identity, and decided to found a business because he saw one homeless camp at a park."


    Dad: "..."


    Dad: "One dog, but it''s on you. I''m not taking care of it."


    Mackenzie: "We''re getting a DOG?!? OMG, I turn off my cell phone for one class, and y''all lose your minds."


    Mom: "You have your cell phone on during class?"


    Mackenzie: "Not important right now! We''re getting a DOG!"


    There were a couple more comments, but Dad was leaving work early to help me go get a dog. It should be noted for the record that Mom was going to do it, but Dad responded about leaving work early first, before she could get a word in on it. The whole affair was sort of odd, cause he kept saying how the dog wasn''t his responsibility, but his actions were completely against that mantra.


    We stopped by the shelter, and it didn''t take me long to find my dog. She was a husky pup around 6 months old, and while most puppies were either super-excited, or scared of the new person, she just sat very prim and proper, regally even. She didn''t bark, or wiggle; those things were Beneath Her Dignity. Oh yeah, that''s my dog.


    Dog acquired, I figured we would just swing by Fred Meyer for some quick kibble, but oh no, no, Dad ixnayed that, and we ended up at Petsmart. Every time I tried to get something basic, Dad stepped in and upgraded. Simple leash and collar? Nope! Full harness, with the premium leashes, the ones made from actual leather instead of the regular nylon stuff. Some Puppy Chow to get us started? NOPE! He picked the most expensive kibble in the store, AND he got the matching high-end dog food from the cooler that was actual meat and stuff.


    I managed to snag video of the cart, and my dad agonizing over pet beds, and which one was best for the princess. Princess would definitely be the name now, cause her name on the paper had been Snowflake, and come on, people. Give your dog a name they can feel some pride in. Princess also got fully insured, signed up for puppy classes, and got a full grooming, the premier brushes for dogs with an undercoat, even the toys. I swear to God, I never managed to put a single thing in the cart myself, cause Mr. "I''m not taking care of it" McKenna could not be stopped. Mom and Mackenzie were nearly peeing themselves with laughter at the whole experience. We wrapped up with Dad getting this insane doghouse, and finally checked out, him admonishing me again that Princess was my responsibility, before getting to the car and breaking out the backseat dog hammock he bought for her, along with a spare pet bed that seemed to exist just for the back of the van. I was nearly crying for holding back laughing.


    For what remained of the afternoon, I went online and checking Humble Bundle, I saw they had a ton of game development books and another bundle that was made up of videos. Awesome. So, snatched those up. I also found some videos on dog training, and the technical manuals for it. Tempting as it was to put Princess through her paces, she''d pretty much been in a shelter her whole life, so she needed time to get used to the house, eat, drink, and get used to the people. Currently, she had staked out my bed as being an essentially good spot to be in, and laid herself down there, still looking with that imperious expression on her face. I also looked up breed information, and apparently, I''d picked an incredibly smart breed, but they could be difficult to get control over, and were not that food motivated. Every so often, I reached over to let her smell me, then petted her. I kept this routine up until she didn''t bother smelling, and just let me pet. She eventually decided it was time to nap, and walked up to where my pillows were to lay herself down to sleep.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Well, I figure, she''ll let me know when she wants attention again, so let''s get some more scouting work done. The boys of the troop had already joined the Discord and created their website accounts with a couple of clicks and some typing between classes. There were some messages from adults who needed it explained to them, so I took them through the sign-up process for Discord and got their accounts logged. Darryl would be thrilled to have everyone ready to go with the online stuff. I assigned roles and put out an initial announcement welcoming everyone to the Discord, and letting them know to DM Darryl if they had questions about the site or Discord stuff.


    I checked email, and let the Huel people know that so far, I liked the product, and gave them my dad''s email to contact him. There were other emails from people, a number of sponsorships, and then a notification from Reddit that a new group had been created that I might be interested in, it was my superhero moniker....


    Why not? I clicked, and went to the page, where there were a LOT of posts already. Some were really nice, and some were noticeably less nice. There was a whole contingent on the subreddit that were making huge speculations about my powers, what or if the limits were, and interestingly, a bunch of folks who were trying to work out hacks for the power that could increase its usage. And being honest, much as some of them were pure speculation or utter lunacy, there were a lot of good suggestions.


    One of the first ones was that I should be doing memory puzzles, to train my memory to the point being effectively eidetic. Another pointed out that I should be isolating my different senses, to train them specifically. The instance they used was Toph from Avatar The Last Airbender, how she used her earthbending senses to be able to see. I mean, not an earthbender, but I mean, it was otherwise a pretty decent theory. I joined the subreddit, and then looked up sensory isolation, and learned something new: We do not have five senses. We also sense time, we sense temperature, where our body parts are without having to see them, there were a number. They could be improved, and that meant my power would affect them.


    Another person observed that while seven minutes of breath holding was certainly interesting, that was nowhere near the record of almost a half hour. The largest breakdown was the body''s instinct to try and breathe. Another noted I could learn to control my own heart rate, and that was rumored to be a key aspect in accessing Chi-Manipulation. On that note, someone wrote that I should be learning a bunch of different martial arts, that I could even evolve my own unique style of martial arts from it.


    There were certainly other dojos around Portland, and other styles, as well as MMA gyms that taught multiple-doctrine fighting. Everyone agreed that the power was deeply broken, since it also extended to mental skills and abilities.


    But, there were more important things than my powers to consider. I had a date, and I needed to prepare. Aimee seemed really happy to go on a date with me, but her dad insisted on me coming over there Sunday. I had cheerfully offered to bring dessert. Now, I could buy something really good, but... I mean, I do need my cooking merit badge, so it would be more efficient in the general sense to make something.


    I grabbed bags and rolled out for the Fred Meyer. While I was on the way over, I was looking over various Italian desserts, since her family is actually Italian. In point of fact, Aimee herself was only a second-generation American from the presentation she did in elementary school, and the impression she gave was that they were very Italian. I settled on tiramisu, the ingredients being essentially simple enough, while still also requiring some thought, and Aimee having mentioned it in the presentation.


    Okay, so Fred Meyer had most of it, but not all. I was missing the ''Italian ladyfingers'', and the Marscarpone Cheese. It is, however, Portland, so getting foodie stuff wasn''t exactly an impassable obstacle here. A couple of quick searches, and I found a place, jogging on over, got my last ingredients, and back home, where Merida was absolutely losing her mind that we had a dog. She didn''t have a phone, so this morning when she left for school, there was no dog, nor anyone talking about getting a dog, and now BAM.


    I memorized the recipe while I waited for the ingredients to get cold, and started my first batch, which would be used on my family. Thankfully, my recipe hadn''t decided to give me some thesis statement on the first time they ever enjoyed tiramisu, and their college trip to Italy, cause Jesus, there were so many recipes that pulled that crap. This one was written by someone with the central mantra of, "Here, I don''t have time to fuck around with you. Do this, and don''t fuck it up."


    First batch actually went decent, but then again, according to the recipe, it was a fairly simple dessert. I''d need to make more, though. I mean, not terribly difficult, but I needed other taste testers. My dad signaled me as I was considering what I could do better. Anna had called, and wanted to talk. I gave him the signal to pass me the phone, "Hey Anna."


    "Hi Marcus. It''s been a month since your awakening, and the H.A.A. likes us to check in and see how you''re adjusting. How are you feeling?" The conversation was meant to be light, just a formality.


    I rubbed the back of my head, "Well, I''m doing... okay, I guess. I learned Spanish, working on Japanese, but kanji is finicky, did some conflict resolution, got a dog- who is now singing us the song of her people cause we won''t feed her our dessert. It has chocolate in it. Got banned from actively participating in family board game night. Got a girlfriend... I think, started back at Scouts, got Senior Patrol Leader, I''m gonna be making a video game with Darryl, OH, and I don''t go to school anymore."


    Everything but that last part, Anna took with stride, congratulating me quietly while I spoke, and then that last part, "Wait, why don''t you go to school?"


    "Already memorized all my textbooks before the year began, and I was apparently setting fire to the Bell Curve without really trying to. I think that''s also why the academy isn''t any good for me. Within... let''s give it three months, I wouldn''t really be learning anything anymore. I''d just be kinda chilling. I''ll be taking the SATs next month to clear that."


    There was dead silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Quite obviously, the concept of everything coming together was likely a bit much, before she started talking again, "That''s a lot to process, Marcus. Would you consider coming in this weekend? I know your feelings about the H.A.A., but we need to re-evaluate your power, and we''d like to run some more tests, now that we have a better idea of what is going on with you."


    Eh, fuck it, lets do it.... "Hey Anna, you aren''t vegan, right?"

 Part 14

    Saturday started with me out at the H.A.A.. I fed Princess, and took her with me, along with a backpack full of Tiramisu. She wasn''t big enough yet to keep up with me running, but after a quick pit stop, I was on my way. I did stream for a while, talking about leaving school, and how I planned to use my extra time. I would start by memorizing the rest of my textbooks for high school, and expand, essentially learning every single class the school offered. This would give me a baseline of various education to work from, and by doing every merit badge for Scouts, I could expand even further beyond that. Mom gave me some basic college texts on philosophy, ethics, and sociology.


    On skills and abilities, I was starting to hit my limit on active knowledge of karate. Sparring with Mackenzie was one thing, but karate as a martial art had its limitations. I needed more, to expand. It was naive to believe that the city, or the world, were just going to let me have whatever I wanted. It was crazy the degree to which I was advancing, not just in my abilities, but the thought process behind them. To achieve my dream, I would need every spare scrap of knowledge and wisdom, enough understanding across so many lines that even the adults would have to listen to me.


    And that''s when I saw it, and made an early stop. I must have passed this place a thousand times, and never really considered it. An old mall, it had been declining for some time, and whatever business had been left to it, the COVID lockdown and social distancing had been the final death blow. During lockdown, I''d been confined to the house of course, just like everyone else, and I''d watched a lot of Netflix. Amongst those shows, one had talked about how malls had come to be. The guy who originally came up with the idea... I couldn''t remember his name, but he''d envisioned malls as having apartments attached. This was intended to create a sort of community within the mall, and now that I thought about it, I smiled. It was perfect. The city needed more housing, affordable housing that could compete against the various apartment complexes. It was like Monopoly, the game that had triggered my ban from board game night.


    Partway through the game, I''d counted the number of houses, and realized something: There were only a specific number of houses, and they weren''t enough to fill up the board, nowhere near it. In order to build hotels, you needed a monopoly, and four houses first, but if the houses were all bought up, then you couldn''t build anything until a house went back in the bank. I stopped bothering with the larger properties, screw them, I traded and dealt to complete the monopolies along the start of the board instead. I even traded out Boardwalk to Mackenzie, since she had Park Place, getting Baltic and St. James. From there, armed with the three cheapest monopolies in the game, it really didn''t matter what anyone else did, I could just run the board by controlling houses. I didn''t need all of them, I just needed enough to empty the bank. I mortgaged out my remaining properties, and built up every property I could, using as many houses as possible. Some rolls later, I was pulling in enough money to finish it out, and everyone was ready for the hotels to come online, but even as they filled up, I just sat on the houses, bought any that got sold to the bank, and let everyone else scramble. Mackenzie fell first, then Mom, then Dad. The dice were immaterial, I even sat in jail for three full turns, even though I had a get out of jail free card. Movement didn''t matter, the cards, dice, even all three players deciding to forego rent against each other, none of it mattered. They could all play against me, collude what they wanted, and I would just win, because the real monopoly of the game was housing.


    Damn it. Games. I''d stopped playing games for the most part because they were too easy to beat with my powers and abilities, but I''d missed a key concept: Games were the earliest way to teach. Tic-Tac-Toe taught basic strategic thinking for children, Hide and Seek taught stealth and how to track and hunt at a basic level, Monopoly taught the issues of unrestrained capitalism as its main focus, Pandemic taught crisis management and teamwork. The same was even true in a lot of video games. I''d fucked up, I''d set myself back because I didn''t consider the concept well-enough, it was infuriating. I needed to get on Steam, and get to work. This could be done, it was all just another version of a game, with less tightly confined rules. I remembered my anime, No Game No Life, the speech about the absolute rules of games. FUCK!


    The mall could be my lab, it could be used to control conditions, and get me on the board the game for Portland was being played on. I hadn''t even considered it ''til now, just straightly limited thinking on my part. I grabbed caffeine, and finished getting to the H.A.A.. I need to get this done, and shot off a message to my dad that we needed to talk urgently after the meeting.


    It occurred to me as I stepped inside the H.A.A. that I looked absolutely weird as hell. I had this intense look on my face, but I was dressed in a pretty basic pair of sweats, wearing a Boy Scout T-shirt I''d bought online, my green and white plaid flannel, and cadet cap, with a puppy, and a giant bag of dessert for folks. My life is completely absurd.


    Unlike last time, though, they were ready to get to work immediately, and I was able to use my pass to bypass most of the general impediments. Usually, I would''ve been stopped with the dog, but this is Portland, pretty much everyone had, used to have, or was in the process of getting a dog, and the huskies were legion around the city. It was a nothing commute, just keep moving.


    I burst into Anna''s office, fishing out one of the Tupperware containers of tiramisu as I did, "We need to talk."


    She jumped out of her seat, which was... odd. Her telepathy should''ve told her I was there, that I was coming in, but she''d reacted like I suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Something was off, "Sorry for scaring you, I sort of assumed you would be able to sense me. Unless your powers are malfunctioning, you couldn''t sense me."


    She put a hand on her chest, and closed her eyes a moment, "My powers are not malfunctioning, I assure you."


    Not a denial, but not a confirmation, "Alright then: What number am I thinking of?"


    It was both a number, and a movie quote, ''69, dude!''. She looked at me for a moment, and even if she couldn''t sense me, she got it, "I was having trouble reading you last time, and now? You''re like a blank space, like trying to hear ultra-sonic frequencies. I can sense everyone else in the building, just not you... or the dog, though that''s more cause she isn''t human. What''s his name?"


    "Her name''s Princess," I said, passing her the tiramisu, and taking a seat across from her.


    Anna sat back down, "Well, today is pretty straightforward. Adam''s back in town, and we wanted to get another read on your powers. The H.A.A. is pretty certain we mis-categorized you on your initial assessment, due to the descriptor. How did you put it in your thoughts? ''I get slightly better at stuff''. It''s pretty obvious now that we were all, yourself included, about as far off as we could be as to what the power- Oh my god, this is delicious! Where did you buy- wait, you made this, didn''t you?"


    "Thanks, and yeah, started yesterday, and just kept making more til I got it dead on. I''ve got more in my backpack, and I wanted to trade it with the cafeteria staff," Anna might be working with and for the H.A.A., but she took her job a counselor to the enhanced very seriously.


    "Trade it for what?", she said, happily munching away at her dessert.


    "Access to their kitchen. I want to learn cooking, but if I''m honest, Mom''s gonna kill me if I keep bombing out the kitchen at home,"


    She nodded, "Ah, a proper survival instinct. Okay, so let''s start off by taking a moment here, and then we''ll head off to talk with Adam."


    "You just wanna finish your tiramisu."


    So from there, we talked. Anna, aside from her powers, was a properly licensed therapist, specializing in child and enhanced development. It really didn''t cost me anything to be more open with her, and she assured me that the sessions were private. I laid down a puppy pad for Princess and talked about everything, including the reason I''d been making so much food. Anna smiled, "It''s good to hear that you''ve got a girlfriend. Supers can become... really isolated, by the nature of what we are. Believe it or not, as much as you scared the bejeezus out of me, it was kinda fun. I''ve gotten so used to just knowing what everyone''s thinking, sensing everyone. Having to actually ask questions, rather than doing it for the sake of politeness is just nice."


    I scratched at my chin. I''d forgotten to shave this morning, "Well, if you can promise me that you won''t keep pressuring me about the academy, we could make this a more regular thing, assuming that you''re willing to work with me. And by the way, Academy would be nearly useless for me, it would just be high school all over again, as soon as I start moving, I''ll just blow through the learning. I''d be there maybe three months at the longest, and I''d just be done. Everything after that would be just me hanging around for the sake of it. I already memorized my original textbooks, and I''m getting the honors program textbooks. I figure those might take me another month... No, probably about two to three weeks. I don''t have school to contend with anymore."


    Anna deflated a bit, "I''d absolutely love to work with you, but to talk about something else important first, as much as you''ve described what has been happening with you, you don''t talk about how it all feels, where you''re at emotionally. It''s important to explore your feelings, not just your actions, and so many people don''t get that far, whether they''re supers or not, children, adults, everyone tends to avoid emotions they''re uncomfortable with, and I''m telling you, as someone who hears it all, it does so much damage. Talk about how you feel, get it out there, because it needs to go somewhere."


    She wasn''t wrong. It had been there, and all came out when I sparred with my sister. I breathed in, and readied myself, "I''m scared, I''m stressed, and I''m so frustrated, angry. I didn''t want any of this, and I still don''t want it. I want to just be the me that I was a month ago, but it''s so useless to keep feeling like that. I can''t tap it back, it''s gone, that life is gone, and the more I''ve tried to hold onto it, the more it''s holding me back from what I can be. I can''t go back, I can''t be that kid.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "What really gets me mad, though, is what I see all around me. Teachers so beaten down by a broken system that beats the love of education out of them and their students. Homeless camps across the city, when we could house them all, and really get to work on the problems. Even you, right here, right now if we''re honest. You can read the minds of everyone around you, and what are you doing with it?


    Anna didn''t quite respond, taken off guard with the sudden tone and direction shift, "You''re sitting in an office, working for people who just want everything to stay the same, so they don''t have to admit the world already changed. They can''t go back, it can''t be that world again. That world ended a decade ago, and the collective wisdom of the entire human race refuses to just acknowledge it. Everyone''s trapped in this never-ending cycle of misery. I will be the end of that cycle, that useless, self-defeating wheel that keeps torturing us all."


    I''m not going to stop the wheel, I''m going to break the wheel. I''d read the books, even if my parents hadn''t let me watch the show yet. I understood more fully now, the emotions behind it. I didn''t even realize I was standing, my fist slamming down on the desk as I said it. The anger was coming out, and I didn''t know where it would stop, "Look at your power, the ability to read the thoughts and emotions of nearly everyone around you. How many of them could you help? How many could you heal the wounds of, and yet you''re here, working a job that pays shit, all so the guys running it can try to pretend everything''s normal, that they still have control. It''s an illusion, and if it only affected them, then fine, but how many people have to suffer and die for their God Damn fan-fiction?!"


    "It''s not that simple-"


    "YES, yes it is! You make a choice, you choose to help, you choose to save them! Or is that not what ''heroes'' are supposed to do? What, does it only matter if they''re at threat from supervillains or some natural disaster? Why didn''t you train your ability up? Do you all think I''m an idiot?! There are three powers that are specifically geared that can be trained: Magic, Chi Manipulation, and Psychic abilities. Most the rest are locked in when they first awaken, and it''s more about the user learning how to best use their power, but you, you could train yourself to be better."


    Anger is good. Anger gets shit done. I had watched American Gods during a sick day, and I''m realizing now, it was more right than I knew. It wasn''t anger that was the problem, it''s how anger is used. Channeled into a proper direction, it could propel me forward, but unchecked, and like Aang''s first attempt at firebending, it could hurt the ones I love.


    And then I deflated. Anna was crying. I''d done that, and she didn''t really deserve the rage. Voicing my frustration, sure, but I''d completely uncorked a month of rage in one giant torrent, "I''m sorry. You''re right, and you didn''t deserve that... I''ll... go by the cafeteria, and... I get it if you don''t wanna work with me now."


    I grabbed Princess, and my things, and went to the cafeteria. I had to get a handle on my emotions, or they''d consume me. There had to be some way to train better balance to my emotional state, something I could do that would let me get a sense of balance, so I didn''t keep accidentally hurting people. Apologizing only matters if you''re doing what it takes to not keep doing the thing you apologized for in the first place.


    The kitchen staff were similarly thrilled with the tiramisu, and on condition that I wrote out the recipe for them, they agreed to let me use the kitchen, but only during the slow times between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Once things were on, they needed to be able to work, and I totally got that. For now, I''d just be a hindrance, but I intended to change that equation. Learning to feed a large mass of people at once was something I would need for later. Step one: 1% incrementally improved prep work.


    Dad texted back to let me know he''d swing by the H.A.A. to pick me up, and I took Princess outside for a bit, until Anna came to find me. She''d definitely teared up for a bit, "Hey Marcus. Adam is ready, we shouldn''t keep him waiting."


    I nodded, and we went back inside to the evaluation room, where Adam was waiting. I handed him the last bit of the tiramisu, and he smiled, "Oh, thanks. I''ll have that in a bit. Okay, let''s do this thing. Gotta confess, I don''t usually do these things twice, and it''s only been a month, so I''m not sure how much things''ll have changed for you."


    He didn''t really remember me from how he was talking. I mean, I get it, he probably does so many of these things throughout the year. As before, I set my hands in front of me, palms up, and Adam placed his hands on top of mine... and that''s when it went sideways. It was a fraction of a second, but I felt something inside me push back against the energy this time, and a discharge of purple energy shot out from between our hands. Adam was blown off his feet, and I reacted instantly, shooting forward, catching his waist, and the back of his neck, just before it connected with the steel desk behind him. He wasn''t unconscious, but it took a moment to get his bearings, and I helped keep him steady. Finally, he blinked a few times, and his face screwed up, "The fuck was that?!"


    I shrugged, "I don''t know. I felt something in me pushing, and then suddenly, there was a purple explosion."


    He stood fully, pulling him together, "That''s never happened. I couldn''t get a reading, nothing. I barely contacted you, and it blew up instantly."


    Anna''s worried expression spoke volumes. She''d been able to feel the whole thing from his side of it, "It was like you hit a wall of nothing. I couldn''t feel what it was that pushed you out."


    I could, though, "You go through the blood to assess, right?" He nodded, and I had a theory, "You can''t do that anymore with me. My immune system. Between you doing it before, and being in school for a month with dozens of kids who get sent in sick, it got 1%''d. So uh... what now?"


    Adam waived Anna off, "Okay, so let''s go over this. I''ve seen the videos, your ability to advance at things, and this-"


    "He''s also immune to me," Anna chimed in.


    Adam rolled his eyes, "Alright, so basically, you''re getting immune to invasive powers, and you could win every Olympic event... and this was one month of having this ability of yours. I... I don''t even know how to classify this by tier. By empirical capability, I''d say strong E-Tier, but your power is built to grow, and grow rapidly. I''ve never seen anything like it. Yeah, Crimson started B-Tier, and she worked it up in the academy with teachers helping her, but this? I have no idea what the hell this even is."


    Anna seemed to come to a decision, "S-Tier."


    Adam jolted, staring at Anna as his jaw went slack. Anna shrugged, "What else could it be? We don''t even know there''s a limitation to this, and like you said, all of it''s been achieved in a month."


    S-Tier... there were only three in the entire world. One in Africa, one in Japan, and one in Ireland. All three nations that housed them had rocketed up in power in the world. S-Tiers were essentially superpowers in human form. Anansi had the ability to read and manipulate the strands of fate, and resided... somewhere in Africa, though no one could place it any closer unless she chose. Spirit Fox (Seirei no Kitsune, strictly speaking) in Japan was the world''s most powerful Chi user, and Cu Culainn in Ireland was an absolute physical badass, not only strong, agile, fast, and tough, but a master of absolutely any weapon or style of fighting that existed, and could summon armor and weapons instantaneously. Any one of them couple wipe the floor with a dozen A-tier, just as A-tier could house full teams of B-tier. By the time you got down to baseline humans, Navy SEALs might as well be generic mooks in a Bruce Lee movie. They just existed to get dropped.


    The only restraints on them were the numbers of other heroes in the world, and one another. Crimson was expected to join the ranks of the S-tier eventually, giving the U.S. its first. If Anna was right, that would eventually give America two S-tiers.... the implications of that were global. Adam and I''s shock was normal. Anna''s calm about it was the weird one. I imagine a psychic who is simultaneously reading the thoughts and feelings of everyone in her radius likely develops a disturbing level of calm if they don''t want to lose their minds, and then she''d gotten medical and psychiatric training.


    Adam held the bridge of his nose, "Okay. Game plan: Anna may be right, but putting you to S-tier is dangerous as hell, and like I said, from what I can see, you''re E-tier. We''ll go with that, and no one outside of this room learns any different.


    "Marcus... not your friends, not your family. No one, not even if there''s patient/doctor or attorney/client privilege protecting it, not written down in a journal, nothing. Seriously, you aren''t on or near that level yet. We need to change how we''re approaching things with you, I''ll admit, and yeah it''s completely unfair, but if you really are that guy, we need you to get there, and fast. I''m putting in against academy training for you. If you tell anyone, you''re putting them in insane danger. I''m not kidding on this. Even academy won''t protect you if the world learns this before you''re ready for it. Whatever you need to do to get stronger, do it, but don''t do it here."


    Adam had barely talked the last time we''d been together, and as he spoke, he was typing on his computer, obviously submitting the paperwork that would classify me E-tier. Submitted, he looked up, "Well Marcus, this is as far as we go. I can''t be seen checking you out, so much as I''d love to learn more about you, that''s just a good way to get you pinched."


    He shook my hand for the first and only time, and headed out, leaving me and Anna together. She gave it a minute, then turned to me, "Marcus, I want to help."


    She had my number, I nodded, and headed out. By the time I was at the front, Dad was there, waiting in the lobby. Princess had a moment of zoomies at seeing him, and we headed out, setting her in her princess bed in the back. Dad could see concern in my eyes, "Something wrong, kid?"


    "I''m officially an E-tier, and I lost my temper on Anna. I mean, we were in session, and she wanted me to express my anger, but it doesn''t make it feel any better," I was lying to my dad, but Adam''s warning rang in my head. I had to commit, and I was going to have to hide the truth from a lot of people. The hard one would be Darryl. His knowledge of supers was obsessive, so sooner or later, he''d realize I wasn''t in-line with where I should be by classification. I took a breath, and switched topics, "Oh, we need to make a stop on the way home. I wanna show you the thing we need to talk about."


    I took him by the dead mall, and at first he didn''t quite get why we were there, and then I just explained it, "We need to buy it. It''s part of the overall plan. Malls were originally supposed to have places to live in them, and if they''d stuck to that, malls wouldn''t have started dying out like they did."


    He looked over it, "How do you figure that?"


    "Okay, say you need a new suit for work. It''s Portland, so it''s raining, and the wind is kicking up off the gorge. Are you going across town, or just out into the main mall your apartment''s attached to?" I was getting better at explaining things quickly. I noticed it was better to give people a scenario they understood and have them work it out themselves, than just actually explaining it to them.


    Dad caught it, and he smiled, "The covered, climate-controlled mall, and of course, the rent I''m paying would go into the mall''s pockets. It''s a good thought, but there''s a couple of immediate problems: You don''t have the money to buy it, and I''m pretty sure people are going to get out of sorts about you launching a mall."


    I did an amazing amount of sarcastic dismay, "Oh no, if only I had a superpower that let me constantly get better at making absurd amounts of money... Seriously though, no one''ll bat an eyelash."


    He looked over to consider me, "What makes you say that?"


    "I''m a teenager buying a shopping mall. They''ll just see a kid being silly with his money, and write me off," shrugging, I looked at it, "I''ll do the same thing I did in school- let them see what they wanna see until it''s too late to get in my way anymore. But we''ll need to do a couple of things first. The money, obviously, but also, I need money to roll through Steam Store, and... I, uh, have a date tomorrow. Could I get a lift?"

 Part 15

    Alright, so we got home from the H.A.A. after some more talk with Dad about how to go about doing this. Also, Brad''s Mom, who is actually called Susan when she''s not being Brad''s Mom, had called him, and after a short discussion, she was brought on board as an executive assistant. While Dad did explain that she was technically underqualified for the position, it would be easier for us to train her up to it than to hunt someone down who was both qualified to our needs, and ready to start immediately without costing us an arm and a leg. He made sure she was set up to be able to take care of her and Brad''s home, and we could always create planned raises as he came along. He also paid her a small recruitment bonus to start with, designed to help her with any initial expenses. He then mentioned that I would need some learning materials on accounting, sales, and marketing (Which are apparently different... somehow), and finance. He could do those for now but acknowledging my ability meant that I could easily whip past him. That didn''t feel... great. It felt like he knew he''d become obsolete, and minding what I had just gone through with Anna, I spoke up, "Dad, I don''t want to get rid of you."


    He laughed a little at that, "Marcus, that''s what you don''t get. If me and your mother do our jobs properly as parents, none of you''ll need us. That''s parenting, at least, good parenting. If you''re a grown adult, and you still need us there to do this kind of stuff, it means we didn''t do our job.


    "You''re getting there incredibly fast, sure, but that''s something for me to be proud of. Your mother, too, and the fact that you realize it and that you care means you''ve got a good head on your shoulders. Don''t get me wrong, it''s great to feel needed, but the object goal is for you to not physically need us. Me and your mom will still be there for you all emotionally."


    He made a stop by Starbucks, getting us both drinks, and a pup cup for Princess, and we hung out for a bit, just watching the river, "If I haven''t said it enough, I''m so proud of you, and not in that ''every parent is proud of their kid'' way. You could''ve done anything with your powers. What you chose to do was to help as many people as possible. You helped Fred, you helped Brad and his mom, you helped us. No one would''ve blamed you if you just went for the fame and money, really. Oh, some people would pick it apart online, but that''s just basic grumbling."


    I... teared up a bit, but I let it go there, we finished our drinks, and as we were about to pull out, Dad smiled crookedly, "So, about this date of yours?"


    I told him a bit about Aimee, how she was on the basketball team at school, and brought up a pic of her on Facebook. Dad looked at it, and remarked, "Now, maybe I shouldn''t say this as your dad, but nice pull."


    I almost said thanks, but what came out was, "In all fairness, I''m somehow the one who got pulled... Is there any way to not keep feeling like a dumbass around her?"


    "Nope!", he shook his head and pulled out.


    At home, I went ahead and hit up Steam. I started hitting up strategy games, things like Chess, then saw a thing for Cities: Skylines, so grabbed that, all of the DLC, along with stuff like Crusader Kings, Farming Simulator... actually, I ended up with a bunch of simulators. I switched to Amazon to find a flight controller for the computer. The upside to this little tangent was I had a ton of content I could use for the channels now.


    Once I got stuff installed, I went ahead and got started with Cities, since that one seemed the most applicable to my current plans. The basics were easy enough to get down, but it definitely got more complicated as I played along. I had a huge traffic problem for instance, because I hadn''t bothered to build mass transit, so that took a while to fix. Once the stream was over, I combed the internet and found some PDFs for the stuff my dad mentioned, and put them onto the Kindle. They are incredibly boring, and I''d thought English was one of the most boring subjects available. I took Princess for a walk and listened to my new language learning, Japanese. I mean, I''m an anime fan, so it was gonna happen, might as well get started on it now.


    Darryl messaged me, and we talked for a while. Mostly it was about stuff for the site, the stream, things like that, but he also talked about me needing to go check out a local parkour place. I mean, parkour had always seemed fun, but unattainable for me. Now though, it was a certainty that I could do it. I could take care of that on Monday. For now, however, there was other stuff to think on. Mom did Yoga at a local place, and if I was checking out parkour, might as well get yoga in too. We kept talking until I had another call coming in, this time Aimee. I told him I had to take another call, and he told me he''d catch up with me online later.


    I switched over, "Uh, hey Aimee. How''re you doing?"


    "Hey, Marcus. I''m good. I know you''re coming over tomorrow, but the first school dance is coming up, and I''ve got a game on Thursday. Do you want to go?"


    I sat forward, "Oh, yeah, of course... for both. I''ll do bo- shit. Um, Thursday''s not good for me. I''ve got a Scout meeting, and I''m kinda running things there, so I need to be there, but maybe I could meet you when school lets out? We could stop by Salt & Straw."


    "That''s great. I could send you the game schedule if you''re free for other games!" It came out a little too quickly and didn''t sound like it was a question.


    OH God, there''s another problem: I can''t dance for shit. I could fumble my way through a game of DDR, but that was the best I''d ever managed. That would need to take a front seat this week. I didn''t need mastery of dance, just enough to not look like an asshole. "Dance is on Friday, yeah?"


    "Yup. Did you want to meet there?" There was definitely a question there.


    "I can pick you up." That seemed like the right answer.


    From there, the conversation devolved into talking about stuff at school. My leaving school was a major bit of news around the school, and apparently, Darryl had joined A/V club, which he didn''t mention, but Darryl was generally more focused on my superhero end of things. That and Scouts.


    Her best friend Becky had started dating this other guy in our class, Lou. I hated Lou, and the feeling was fully reciprocated. He put on this air all the time as if he was holding royal court, and was always quick to point out he was rich. He wasn''t rich, his parents were, and he''d taken it none too well when I''d started pulling in money. The only people he was ever nice to were the ones he decided had the right ''social standing'', and Becky was pretty nice and popular in the class. So yeah, both me and Aimee were pretty sure this was going to end pretty badly, but there was no way to get Becky to see it.


    Yeah, Brad had been a bully and terrorized kids for years, but it was just anger and frustration, and I got it. Lou had pretty much everything he could ever want, and just lorded it over everyone. The two things, at least in my mind, were not the same. Brad had been dealt pretty much the worst hand you could be dealt, and outside of the bullying thing, had still been a pretty decent kid otherwise. Lou had everything, and he still chose to be a dick to people.


    It wasn''t until after I hung up that I realized, I hadn''t even gotten to the first date and had already lined up two more dates. I mean, it was good, and I wouldn''t be able to do much tomorrow, but come Thursday, I could get back to kissing her... I kind of got lost in that thought for a bit, ''til Mackenzie screamed for me to come down for dinner.


    The next morning, I got the final tiramisu together early, so it had time to set, and for the powder on top to properly combine, and then off to church we went. I know I was at church, but I''m not certain I heard anything Father Patrick was saying through the service. I pretty much just mimicked the prayers and stuff, and I couldn''t keep from bouncing my leg. My 1% was starting to betray me again. I wanted to pay attention, but my mind kept thinking about dinner with Aimee. I was running an ever-descending spiral of interactions. What if I''d screwed up the dessert?! What if her dad didn''t like me? Every thought on how I could beef this was flooding through me. I didn''t snap out of it until after the service, when Father Patrick put a hand on my shoulder, "Ah, Marcus. Can we talk for a minute?"


    Mom nodded, and I looked up... no, I looked even at Father Patrick. I remembered him being taller... right, super-puberty, "Sure, Father. I''m not in trouble, am I?"


    He quirked an eyebrow, looking sternly at me, "Did you do something to be in trouble for?"


    I considered for a moment before he laughed, "I''m messing with you. Come with me."


    Father Patrick had a perverse sense of humor. We went into his office, and he took off his robe and the scarf-thing he wore, "dressed down" in his black button-up shirt and white collar. "I think I owe you an apology. This past month has to have been pretty rough on you, I imagine."


    I nodded, "Yeah, it''s been really stressing me out, actually."


    He took a seat, "That''s to be expected. Even if you weren''t enhanced, you''re still a teenager. I won''t pressure you but just know that my door is always open. Do you think you might have some space on your plate? I could use your help."


    "Oh, is there a pancake breakfast coming up?" I relaxed a bit. The church chartered my troop, and we got a lot of service hours from them. As SPL, it wasn''t that odd that I was being talked to about it.


    "No- Well, okay, yes, we are doing one, and the troop''s help is always appreciated, but that''s not what this is about. What I wanted to ask of you is a bit bigger. As you know, like most churches, we run a soup kitchen, and food bank, parts of the Oregon Food Bank system. What I wanted to ask is if, in some of your spare time, you could look over the operations and see where we could do the job better. Your ability could help a lot of people get better help."


    That... could be useful. It was essentially an in on what I wanted to do anyway, to start getting a better idea of how to fix things, and I couldn''t do that without an understanding of the internal organization of the food banks, "I''d be happy to. I''m not really in school, so I can take a look at it tomorrow. Mom''s got a hard rule against me doing Improvement stuff on Sundays."


    He nodded his agreement, "Absolutely. Even God took a day off."


    Father Patrick then took a small zip drive out of his desk and handed it to me, "I''m not expecting a miracle here, just get back to me when you see what can be worked on. Thank you, really."


    I nodded, took the drive, and said my goodbyes. I''d have to get to work on a lot starting tomorrow. I desperately needed an actual office space, not just my room and the dining room at home. I was heading out when I got caught from behind, and as I was exiting the church, heard a voice whispering in my ear that both excited me and reminded me of my dread, "Hey Marcus."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    I turned around to another kiss from Aimee, and after a second, "Hey. So we go to the same church? I need to go to mass more often!"


    Wait... that didn''t sound stupid. Had my brain actually managed to kick up something legitimately useful around her for once? Awesome, "Wait, um... where''s your dad?"


    She motioned over, "Oh, he does confession after service every week. He''ll be a bit."


    Oh good, I wouldn''t get murdered in front of a church today. We hung out for a minute, just sort of holding hands. I mean, we were still at church, much as I was really liking the pleated skirt/sweater combination she was wearing. Finally, I got the signal from Mom, who was keeping Mackenzie from just coming over and grabbing me. Mackenzie was... less patient with the waiting, and didn''t much care for Sunday church. Normally, I''d share her opinion, since waking up on Sunday to go to mass just seemed wrong, but... Aimee.


    Aimee said she''d see me later, kissed me again, and I went off to the wrong car and family, then redirected when I realized it. Mackenzie was less impatient now, and more impish, "Great, so just a few hours til your date. Hopefully, by then, some of the blood''ll leave your face."


    "What?" I looked in the side mirror, and my whole face was red. Oh great.


    Over the next few hours, I went ahead and did some exercises, trying to work off the insane extra energy, and then realized I''d forgotten something. Flowers. Fred Meyer had a flower section, so I ran over there, and my brain kicked up Aimee wearing a lot of purple, so when I found a purple orchid, I went ahead and bought it. I got back home to Merida in a fuss. While Princess had pretty quickly taken to everyone, she kept avoiding Merida. I knelt down, "What''s wrong, bit?"


    "Princess hates me," she replied, arms crossed as she sat on the floor.


    I smiled, "She doesn''t hate you. Okay, you remember the first day of school, you were all nervous about the other kids? What if one of them kept running at you?"


    "I''d be scared," She sounded so pitiful.


    To help her out, I had her pick up one of Princess''s toys, staying seated, and call out to her. Princess looked from across the room, and curious, approached slowly. At first, Merida went to go straight for petting, but I stopped her, "Just let her come to you, okay? Talk softly, call her a good girl, that sort of stuff."


    It worked. Without the manic level of energy Merida had been trying to use, Princess kept coming closer, eventually taking the toy from Merida''s hand, and letting her pet her. That dilemma solved, the next was post-workout showering. I had to ditch the nervousness before I got over to Aimee''s house or I was going to have a coronary before I hit the front door.


    Considering this, I opted to do something from karate, and I took some meditation time, just emptying everything out and focusing on my breathing. Next up, I put together my initial outfit, only to get it vetoed by Mackenzie, who decided that a full suit was way too formal. After going through several of my shirts, she left the room and came back with one of my dad''s work shirts, a purple one that he rarely wore. She then grabbed my nicer pair of slacks, and shoved them into my chest, "There", and out she went. I got dressed, and I looked... "Uh, Mackenzie?! How many buttons?"


    She stalked back in, unbuttoned first the top button, then the one just under it, "We done?"


    "Yup. Thanks."


    Great, all set to leave.... in two hours. Jesus Christ. I went ahead and took to my computer to pass the time, playing some more Cities: Skylines. That I was getting down, but I was still accidentally creating problems, and then having to backtrack to fix whatever new thing I''d messed up. This time, I realized too late that I hadn''t placed my sewage runoff properly, and it was a problem. Then people were complaining about the lack of schools, so on we went with adding in an elementary and high school to cover that. It really was pretty-


    My phone went off. It was time to go. I grabbed my dessert, and the orchid, and headed out. Aimee lived pretty close as it turned out, so I just went ahead and walked it, rather than needing a lift from Mom and Dad. Aimee lived in one of the various apartment complexes that are pretty common for Portland, a group of three-story apartment buildings, each with about a dozen apartments split between floors. Aimee''s apartment was a third-floor one... thank God I do an absurd amount of cardio.


    I got up to the door and knocked nervously. I heard Aimee''s voice calling out, and when she opened the door, I... stopped being able to form words. She was wearing a really nice lavender sundress, and her hair was down, curls drifting a bit in the draft of the landing, "Hi- Oh my god, is that for me?!"


    "Uh..." I fumbled a bit, and then remembered I was holding things, "OhyeahthisforyouIjustknewthatyoulikedpurpleandIsawitatthestoreandifyoudon''tlikeitIcangetyousomethingelse!"


    Oh good, total gibberish. I held out the orchid in its pot like I was brandishing a shield, and Aimee was all smiles, "Oh, it''s lovely. Does it have- Yup, watering instructions right here! Come on in! Dad''s just watching the game."


    When I''d heard the word dinner, I had made the assumption of a cooked dinner, so apparently, I was more ambitious than Aimee and her Dad were. Aimee showed me around the apartment, while I worked on my meditative breathing to get control of myself. Her dad paused the game, slung up out of a well-used recliner, and crossed the room. I am pretty tall now, and I still felt like a member of the Lollipop Guild. The childhood game boys play of who could beat up whose Dad died here. He had to be near on seven-foot tall, barrel-chested, and if I remembered correctly, he worked construction as a demo guy. So yeah, he breaks stones eight hours a day, professionally. I was very aware of the fact that my legs were not, in fact, as strong as cement. He looked down at me, standing at full height, "So, you''re Mark."


    "Yessir, Mr. Palazzi-"


    Aimee shot in, "It''s Marcus, Dad."


    He nodded, and extended a hand toward me, "Good to meet you."


    I reached out and shook his hand. My dad had repeatedly impressed upon me the importance of having a good handshake, so I made sure to keep a strong grip as we shook. Still holding my hand, he wasn''t quite done with it, "So, Marcus, what are your intentions?"


    I cocked my head, "Well, I mean, dinner? I brought a dessert."


    He let out a rumbling laugh, and there was a part of me that registered that there was a non-zero percent chance, given the presence of supers, that he was about to breathe fire on me, but instead, he let go of my hand, "Good enough, I suppose. Aims, grab him something to drink."


    I was given a can of Pepsi, and I traded it for the tiramisu, which is when Aimee stopped, staring, and started trembling a bit, "Sorry, I just... I need a minute."


    She set it on the counter and walked briskly into her room. I wasn''t sure what just happened, "I''m sorry, Mr. Palazzi. I- did I do something wrong?"


    His eyes were a bit watery, but he straightened himself out quickly, and shook his head, clapping me on the back, "Nah, kid. It''s just been hard since..."


    Fuck. Aimee''s mom had passed away back in sixth grade. I didn''t remember the exact reason, but she''d been out of school for a week afterward. I ran my hand over my face, "I''m sorry. I forgot."


    I felt his hand on my shoulder, "You couldn''t have known. Aims is usually pretty okay, but sometimes a reminder catches her out of nowhere. Katherine used to make tiramisu for her every year on her birthday."


    God damn it, it linked to my memory of Aimee finally. I''d placed the tiramisu because I knew she liked it, she''d talked about it every year, and she''d done a show and tell about it. I hadn''t been consciously aware of the choice, but it was back there in my head, one of a million tiny details that you just sort of have and don''t realize you have til it gets pointed out. Mr. Palazzi signaled me with a head motion to come sit with him and watch the game while he ordered pizza. We sat in silence while we waited for a bit, until he broke the silence during a commercial, "So, what''re you studying in school?"


    I almost said something really stupid, but caught it this time, "Uh, that''s sort of complicated. I''m kind of graduating early, like, now, in freshman year."


    He paused the TV, "How the hell''d that happen?"


    He doesn''t know, "I got a superpower, and apparently, mine sort of kills my ability to just do normal schooling. Um, I can demonstrate, I think. Unpause the game."


    I''d studied football, since of course, we have a football team at school. I''d studied the playbook as well, and seen formations in practice, as well as watching games. The players lined up on the forty and I looked at the way they were all setting up, "Blitz."


    Seconds later, the ball snapped, and one of the linebackers broke through and slammed into the quarterback, driving him back a few yards before both men hit the ground. I repeated the calls with the next several plays, calling them based on what I was seeing, and Aimee''s dad became slack-jawed as it went on. Aimee came out of her room at some point and sat on the couch next to me as I concentrated. Finally, he set down his beer when there was another knock at the door. Aimee popped up to go get the pizza, but Mr. Palazzi looked at me with obvious shock registering on his face, "How long have you been following football?"


    "About a month, since the school coach asked me to help out. I feel a little bad I wasn''t able to stick with it. That guy''s about to go offsides."


    Aimee came back, setting the pizza on the dining ''room'' table, "Oh, he was doing all sorts of stuff with the school''s teams, but really, he''s into Boy Scouts. Let''s eat! You should see how much he eats, it''s crazy."


    I wasn''t precisely happy with that particular last bit being a thing, but she seemed enthusiastic about it, so I guess it''s good? The pizza was much appreciated, since I hadn''t so much eaten today, just being too nervous. I got a couple of slices and some of the garlic knots, while her dad fixed his own plate across the table, "So, you heading off to that academy of theirs?"


    I shook my head, "No, sir, it''d be the same problem as regular school. I advance too fast."


    "Well, you''ve got a great sports career ahead of you if wanted it."


    "I can''t. I''m not really an athlete, and I''m not really this smart. The ability is called 1% incremental improvement, and... it would be a cheat. How long''s Aimee been working at basketball?" I wasn''t trying to be smart, but it would be better to get this particular discussion out of the way.


    "Since she was a toddler."


    I nodded, "I''d be taking her spot, and I''ve been playing basketball for all of a month. I''m not an athlete. The drive, the determination, and the discipline are what make you an athlete, not a power. If I went after baseball, I would be able to bat a thousand, then when they started intentionally walking me, I''d perfect stealing second, then third, then home. I''d be a free run just about every time my at-bat came up. Corking a bat would be less of a cheat than having me on the field."


    He smiled and nodded, "Well said, Marcus. So what are you gonna do?"


    "I''m working on a project, and I''ve got a job with the online stuff that''s taken off. For right now, I''m learning, training, and figuring things out for myself. My sister kinda had to beat it into me that I can still have accomplishments, they''re just... different accomplishments is all."


    We kept going, and eventually, Mr. Palazzi excused himself from the apartment to go off-property to smoke. Well, there goes my human shield. Aimee leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, "You''re really cute when you get to talking."


    She really liked me, "I just... you''re the most beautiful girl I''ve ever seen, and I... keep waiting for this all to be a dream. It just doesn''t make sense."


    "I feel the same way, but it totally makes sense. You just don''t see it," She scooched her chair over, and twined her fingers up between mine, "I know exactly when I started being into you.


    "It was just after... my mom died. I came back to school, and the other kids, they were... nice enough. Except Brad, you got into a fight with him, but I suppose it was more of him fighting, and you not fighting. Anyway, you were waiting for your mom to pick you up, and we were at recess. I was sitting off by myself, and you didn''t say anything, but you sat next to me, and you pulled out a Yoo-Hoo and a danish from your lunch bag. You ripped the danish in half and gave it to me, and you shared your Yoo-Hoo with me," She was laying her head on my shoulder, and redirected my arm around her. On instinct, I leaned my head on hers, and it was a good instinct, "You were having a horrible day. You still had one of those bits of cotton in your nose, and your eye was going black, and you still just... cared, quietly. I saw it all over the place after that, like despite everything, you just became nicer, like just in defiance of it all. Did you ever think of me like that?"


    I thought for a moment. For once, I was so grateful that my memory had improved because I wanted to hold onto this forever, "It was sort of different for me. You were the prettiest girl in class, and it just never occurred to me that you''d ever like me, that you could ever like me back. You attacked everything head-on, and I just sort of assumed, that if any of us was ever going to get a superpower, it would be you. It should''ve been you."


    I took a chance and reached my hand around to lay on her cheek and turn her face toward mine, and for the first time, I initiated kissing her. We then had to break it up when we heard the front door open back up, and Aimee brought back the tiramisu. After dessert, and talking some more, it was time to leave. I got a final hug walked out to the sidewalk, and headed home, dropping a message to Mom as it got darker out. I had some extra energy I wanted to burn off.


    A voice rasped out of the darkness, "Hello, hero. I''m such a big fan!"

 Part 16

    I turned toward the voice, hearing the distinct sound of steel scraping on stone, and saw him emerging from the shadows, the jingle of tiny bells ringing out with each step. He was not particularly tall, and he was gaunt, but I could feel an aura of menace I couldn''t explain. His face was covered by a solid clown mask. I couldn''t even see eyes, covered by some sort of mesh, and the jingling noise was from bells hanging from what looked like the nightmarish cousin of a jester''s cap. I couldn''t see any skin or defining features


    The whole outfit was a mottled black and red as he slowly stalked in my direction, rasping once more, "You have no idea how happy I am to meet you!"


    Fuck! I knew who this was. Reaver. He''d shown up out of nowhere a couple of years ago, killing heroes with that giant scythe he was dragging behind him. There were descriptions of him all over the internet, but only rare pictures, and even those were silhouettes like he was posing for them.


    I noped out as hard as I could, taking off at a sprint, then nearly died as he appeared in front of me, swinging a weapon that had to be at least ten percent of his total body weight like it weighed the same as a Nerf sword. I managed to hop back just in time as the swing came down, but any hope I had that it would get stuck vanished, as it cut through pavement like butter. There was an opening, though, and I shot forward, catching him in the back around the kidneys. He started to head toward the ground, only for the scythe to shoot up, righting him to land, "Good, I was so hoping you wouldn''t be a bore. Now, before we continue, any parting words for your loved ones?"


    I still had my phone, and helpfully, there was a panic button. Unfortunately, there weren''t any heroes in Portland. The best we had was a low-level psychic therapist and a guy who was only here some of the time who could assess powers by touch. Yeah, great. I hit the panic button anyway since it would at least summon cops. In time or not remained to be seen. Running was out, I couldn''t outrun instant transmission.


    Reaver did not immediately come forward, instead a black tendril erupted from his hand, and I wasn''t fast enough this time, focused on the weapon. The tendril wrapped around my forearm and pulled tight, but not enough to pull me. Shit, something''s wrong.


    So far, he could appear out of nowhere, use that black tendril, and wield a scythe that should be tipping him over when he swings. No cast time, he just did it. These were powers, not magic, not chi, not psychic. All of those required a degree of concentration for physical stuff. But he somehow didn''t have the strength to pull me?


    On a snap decision, I shot forward, going with the tentacle. It was like with Mackenzie, I needed to close because he had reach on me, just like I had reach on my sister. I didn''t get all the way there, but I closed inside the arc of the scythe, grabbing the haft, and with the slack, struck it with my other hand while pulling it toward me... I might as well have tried to punch down a vault door for all the good it did, and felt the shock up my whole arm. Reaver tsked at me, "Aw, such a good effort. Sadly, a meaningless one."


    The scythe disappeared from my hand, along with its owner, and I rolled forward in time for the scythe to just barely miss my back. How had I- Ooh, the bells. An ornament, but when he ported, they shifted, jingling. He would keep driving the fight this way, blinking back and forth to try and catch me with my guard down. Interestingly, I realized this actually narrowed the field of attack, and he held the scythe in his right hand. I just needed him to port again. Well, I got my wish, and instead of dodging out, I did a back roundhouse as high as I could throw it. I either hit, and foiled his attack, or I die here.


    I felt it connect, and something broke loose on the side of the mask as he fell away, and I hoped that was... "FUCK!"


    I caught him dead in the temple, but he was back up instantly, the mask now hanging half off his face. As far as I knew, I was the first person that had seen his face. I saw one green eye, and I could see the first trickle of blood along where the strap on the side had snapped. But somehow, the bastard was up, and I could see one half of a psychotic grin, and he howled out in cackling laughter, "YES! FINALLY! Someone worth the fight!"


    Being acknowledged by a psychotic clown? Not precisely how I saw my night going. A saying from my Uncle Jimmy popped into my head, "When seconds matter, the cops are only minutes away."


    My phone let out a blare, the alert signal for a supervillain attack. My panic button had gotten through, but I couldn''t hear sirens yet. The clown was still smiling, and I needed time, "We don''t have to do this. I never even wanted these powers, and I''ve got no interest in being a hero. You''ve got the wrong guy."


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The fingertips of his free hand went up to where his lips would be if the mask weren''t there, "Ho, ho, ho! The Shield of the Gods speaks! Calloo, callay young Aegis."


    The grin turned demonic as he dropped into form, and I just noticed something, something wrong with his voice... no, the way his mouth was moving. It was almost like his voice was dubbed, "But don''t worry, child. If you don''t want your powers, then by all means, I''ll be happy to relieve you of them!"


    He charged, cackling again, but I knew what was coming. He blipped again, and this time I wheeled into it, connecting an uppercut into his diaphragm, and he flew back, this time hitting a three-point landing, scythe up behind him as his hand and feet rode along the ground, "That shit won''t work on me again. I''ll say it once more: I don''t want to hurt you, and I don''t need to. We can talk."


    His head went to the side, but like an inch too far, and he tsked again, slowly walking a semi-circle around me, "I have to confess, these things don''t usually take so long. No mindless speech about how you''ll bring me to ''justice''? No oath to take me down? Or how my ''reign of villainy is at an end'', but here you are, fighting despite not wanting to."


    "It''s the last thing I want to do, but it''s still on the list. Why come for me?" He was talking, I just had to buy time. He had been caught in the temple, had the wind knocked out of him, and he was still...


    "Nevermind... I''ve got it. You''re agile, you can flawlessly wield that scythe, near-pain immunity, the tendril, and the porting. You steal powers, don''t you? You aren''t here for me, you''re here for the 1%." I am sounding so much braver than I am. I''m terrified because no matter what I did, the powers he held were beyond my own capabilities. Sooner or later, he''d wear me down, it was a matter of time. I couldn''t get the advantage fast enough, and he wasn''t even breathing hard.


    He held up his free hand, and gave me a golf clap with the scythe hand. I could break blocks in karate, both with my hand, and my foot. He should be wheezing on the ground, but he just seemed amused by the whole thing, "Congratulations, Aegis! I am so proud of you! The others never worked it out, but then, they were so very busy trying to play their little bit parts as heros, but you''re not one of them, are you? You''re both so on point, and terribly wrong at the same time. At first, I saw you as I saw those other puffed-up buffoons, getting drunk on your own image, but then, I watched you.


    He stalked around me as I stood still. There was no real point in trying to stay facing him since he would just inevitably try to teleport to where I couldn''t see him. It was a waste of energy to keep turning my body, so I just maintained eye contact as best I could, "You watched me?"


    "Yes, I saw you, looking for a way to change things, to break this stagnant world. I saw you give food to the homeless, saw you volunteer your time for Father Patrick, and saw you reject easy fame and glory. You asked for nothing, not even praise or thanks. You are a man of ideals, Aegis, so much more fun than the rabble choking the world with its stagnant order."


    I''d delayed long enough. I hadn''t heard sirens because the cops hadn''t kicked theirs on, keeping the lights off, so that until the headlights came into view around the corners he couldn''t see them, and suddenly the lights were everywhere. He tsked a final time, "Well, it seems some people have crashed our party, and positively ruined our date. Afraid I really must dash. We will have to do this again soon, young Aegis."


    He disappeared as cops came out of cars brandishing guns, and did not reappear. One of the officers came forward while the rest maintained cover, looking around for him futilely, "You okay, kid?"


    I nodded, "Yeah, I''m good. Don''t think he got me. Reaver''s come to town."


    While I did see Aimee poke her head out, I was in police custody, and they weren''t letting anyone close. They had a sketch artist talk to me, but I just asked for their pad and pencil and sketched every detail of his face that I''d seen. The PBS specials had paid off in an unexpected way. Next, came the representative for the H.A.A., some guy named John to see if I was alright, and basically just reasking the same questions as the cops. I had held back some things from the cops, however, and as John finished up, I caught his arm, "We need to talk. Privately."


    He nodded, invoked some sort of special regulation, and took me to his car, "Alright, what is it?"


    "There''s something wrong with this whole incident, and I don''t think the sketch is gonna help. He had at least three abilities that I saw, the scythe, the teleportation, and the black tendril. Top agility, a bit ahead of me, really. Nothing I did seemed to phase... no... wait, that''s incorrect," I was going over it when some of the details caught up with me. I''d been answering questions, but being asked things forces you to think.


    John was patient if nothing else, "What''s incorrect?"


    "I''m pretty sure I only got one hit in that whole fight."


    "According to the cops, you hit him twice, not that that isn''t impressive in itself, especially given it''s your first time going up against a supervillain," John remarked as he was taking notes.


    "No, I was wrong. I only hit one time, right at the beginning of the fight, after I got caught by the tendril. Reaver isn''t the guy, it''s the scythe!" Reaver wasn''t immune to pain, it didn''t have pain.

 Part 17

    I didn''t sleep that night, though oddly, not for the reason you would expect. A psychotic, sentient scythe was dead-set on taking me out, and you''d think that would put me on edge, but somehow, it was almost calming. The problem was my mind needed to finish working through things, despite Anna''s call to tell me that I should absolutely get sleep. There were cops out front, much good as they would do. Not to discredit the cops, mind, but this was out of their weight class, and Kevlar wouldn''t matter for shit against this thing. He''d tracked me not to my home, but to Aimee''s. Why? Why that moment? I got not coming at me in the H.A.A., but the way that he''d talked, he''d found me far earlier. Was it just because I was alone?


    Why give me a heads-up? Why the dramatic entrance? He''d talked at length, repeatedly, given me time, when it was far more efficient to just pop out of nowhere and end me, "I need more information, but where..."


    H.A.A.. While I wasn''t allowed to technically do crimefighting, self-defense, and emergencies were considered an abridgment of the rule. It was unreasonable to expect supers to just sit around and die for a rule. He was hunting me, and it wasn''t over, but why? He had me, distracted, alone, in a city where I''m the only super with a combat-centric ability, so no backup. I needed access to H.A.A. files on him since the public ones didn''t contain much except for the physical descriptions of the suit, and the list of crimes.


    And if the scythe was running the show, why run from the cops? He hadn''t blinked at fighting me after I started laying in damage to his puppet. I went back over the fight, but I needed a visual aid. I grabbed my sketch pad and started drawing out the fight step-by-step, just like a comic book would be laid out, but making each page of the sketchpad a single panel. As I finished each panel, I hung them, forming a circle that laid out the fight, complete with dialogue boxes. I re-examined it, and yeah, he cut out as soon as the cops showed up, but he promised he was coming for me.


    The scythe might be untouchable, but the body wasn''t. The scythe didn''t care about general damage to the body, sure, but a bullet through the brain might render the body useless.... the scythe is reliant on the puppet just as the puppet is under the control of the scythe. If the scythe could animate itself, I''d be well since dead, since I could just be attacked again and again on both sides, but that didn''t happen. Okay, that opened up getting the scythe out of the puppet''s hand, but I wasn''t really trained on disarming weapons. Sensei Bill had admonished us to not fight people who had a knife or a weapon, to just go with things. That wouldn''t work here, because his direct objective was to kill me.


    And I couldn''t let that happen either, because if he got his hands on my ability... fundamentally, he wouldn''t be able to be stopped. He could just train the powers he already had, just like I trained myself, and there was a potential that the powers would improve, become more efficient, and more powerful. My broken power was all that was holding him back. I drew a 1:1 sketch of the scythe and started working, grabbing pool noodles, piping insulation, and duct tape. I recreated the scythe itself. He''d been able to use this thing like it weighed nothing, but the weapon was huge. This much steel should have required near super-strength to wield in an effective manner. I''d felt the heavy weight of the blade when I grabbed it, so obviously, it did have weight, but not for the wielder of the blade? So kind of a Thor/Mjolnir kind of thing?


    When Darryl found me in the morning, I was standing on top of a ladder in the backyard, spinning and slashing the ''blade'', changing hands... wait. Reaver hadn''t changed hands. His right hand wielded the scythe, and he only used the left to send out the tendril. even that attack had been simple, straightforward. I was missing something, something that I had no way to know or notice. I came down the ladder, and finally saw Darryl standing there, "Oh... hey man. How are you doing?"


    "How am I doing?! Dude, you fought your first supervillain, and you almost died!"


    I sighed, walking past him, "Yeah, I''m kind of sorry you missed it. I could''ve used a camera angle. Come on, I need caffeine."


    Darryl had begged off school, wanting to make sure I was alright. Aside from being a bit sleepy, I was fine. I had to consider everything, but Information Overload could also be a detriment. It was an issue in scientific research, police work, and of course, hero work. Not everything is a clue, and separating the legitimate clues from the false leads was the difference between a decent investigator and a great one. Darryl trailed after, asking questions about the fight, til I held a hand up, "Just go up to my room. I have notes and drawings. Need fresh eyes. I''m going to Plaid. Need caffeine."


    I left him there, and walked out the front door, stopping off to ask the officers out front what they wanted from the store. They told me I should stay inside, but eh, fuck it. If he''s coming for me, he''s coming for me. I told them to wait there and ran to the store. Not like they could catch me before I got there. I loaded up on the big triple espresso drinks and got myself some sausage, egg, and cheese croissants. I needed to think, and if that attack was coming again, I needed to be ready, and ready fast.


    I looked up fighting gyms in Portland and found one I could use. I needed to check in with Darryl... my phone. Son of a bitch. I mean, if the scythe had to be in hand to operate the puppet, then there''s no way I''d have missed some dipshit walking around with an 8'' tall scythe. So he''d used my phone to track me. It was so basic, and it wasn''t like celebrities didn''t get cyber-stalked pretty consistently. I''d need to correct that, but first, I could use it to test the theory.


    I went into the house, heated up my breakfast, and then went up to my room, where Darryl was going through my notes, sitting in the middle of a circle of giant comic panels. He looked up, and I tossed him a drink, which he did catch easily enough, "Man, this is actually how the thing went down?"


    "More or less, but I can''t be certain of the level of objectivity. Memories are affected by emotions, but it''s as close as I could get. You think of something?" I cracked open my own drink and started in on my first sandwich.


    "Mostly, I came to the same set of conclusions you did. The scythe''s in control, and it has to kill to absorb the powers. But there is something you missed." He came up to his feet, and went over and started going around to the panels, "This actually sounds like a comic book villain, like it''s trying to approximate what it thinks a supervillain is, but with comics as its only reference point.


    "Supervillains don''t do big monologues, not in the real world. They don''t announce their presence to their target before they attack. That''s purely an artifice of storytelling, like Chekov''s Gun, where if you introduce an element in the first act, you need to use that element in the second or third act. You''re right, if it had just wanted you dead, it would have just ended you on the first strike before you knew there was a problem, but it didn''t. It dragged out the conflict. It allowed you time to fight, to talk, to answer questions, and time for the police to arrive."


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    He directed me to the second panel, where he was coming down the street, dragging the scythe, "Right here. Look, man. You said red and black, but that''s not actually true. The base of the mask is white, and the scythe and belt are a deep purple color. A literal four-color supervillain, even though the current fashion for the enhanced is two contrasting colors, maybe three blended colors at most. Instead, these colors are distinct, and the outfit looks custom-made. Then we have the reports of him previously, where he''s silhouetted. I don''t think they were mistakes or lucky shots, I think it was actually posing like that."


    He dug in his bag and produced a tablet, on which, he had a huge collection of comics, so that he could read them without damaging his collection, "Alright then, Darryl. If that''s the case, if it''s mimicking a comic book, what''s the next move?"


    Darryl brought up some comic pages, "To back off, then come back at you, preferably after you''ve had a chance to prepare a bit, and in some sort of more public forum, since the initial meetup was private. It might try to take someone you care about, but because of how you are, it could kidnap anyone and you''d be just as likely to jump in to stop it. The point is to draw you out, and it''s going to be a big display. No matter what, you''ll be fighting around people, and he''s likely got one or two tricks he hasn''t broken out yet."


    I tossed an empty can into the bin next to my desk, and cracked the next one, "Okay, so in other words, we have a limited window to act on our own. We should move everyone to somewhere safe."


    He shook his head, "No good. That just changes the target. To Reaver, this is being treated like a duel or a game. There are rules, but if we try to break the rules, then we just remove the leash, and it might start killing indiscriminately. It could take a teacher, Fred, pretty much anyone that''s had contact with you."


    Darryl very rarely was this confident, and his reasoning was sound, "Okay, so then, operatively, we''re safe for right now. I sent you a link to a fighting gym. I''m gonna get a nap, so I need you to call them, and see if they can work me in today."


    He nodded, and I went crashed for a few hours. I don''t remember dreaming, but when I woke up, I had an idea, and called Darryl back, "Darryl, he''s operating by rules. No Game No Life. You remember?"


    "Oh yeah, great dialogue. So what''s the plan?"


    "Meet up. I''ll leave a note in the usual place." I hung up, scrawled a quick note, and grabbed the last can of caffeine. I went back up to the cop car out front, "Hey guys, when your relief gets here, need a favor. Take my phone to the H.A.A. for me. I was accidentally recording during the fight, and they might be able to map the voice or something."


    As I went back inside, I dropped the note in a small gap between the edge of the frame, and the drywall. We''d used it before. He knew where it was, and just to make sure, I''d written it in a code we''d used before. It was from an old issue of Boy''s Life, a Boy Scout magazine. Now, to lose my protectors.


    That part was easy enough, since unlike the cops, I was willing to jump out a second-floor window to a tree branch. I hopped the back fence, then one more fence to the next street, and took off at a strong run. I already knew where I was heading, and Darryl would catch up when he could. The destination was an MMA gym.


    When I got there, people recognized me instantly, not just from the internet, but my face had been in the news all last night and this morning, so it was incredibly easy to drop some money to get gym time. I met with the gym''s trainer and offered a quick bit of money to any fighters that were willing to get in the ring with me, and a larger prize each time they could take me down. No rules, no limitations, come and try to take my head off.


    I realized a flaw in how I''d been conducting my ability thus far: I''d been doing so many different things, and while that was wonderful for a long-term foundation, I couldn''t waste time on that now. I needed to improve and improve now. At first, I was fighting one-on-one with a kickboxer, and I was keeping up pretty well. Then another guy entered the ring, focused more on boxing, and another... and another.


    They were coordinating, and it was getting harder, more intense trying to keep at it. The trainer was calling out various directions to me, and I did my best to follow them. Every swing, every block, punch, kick, and dodge, I was getting just a bit better, and better fast. I knew the technical aspect of fighting, I knew how to fight in a schoolyard, and how to spar. That wasn''t what I needed. I needed a real fight, one where my opponents were really fighting to win, and weren''t concerned about my safety and growth, restraining their hits, or just trying to show dominance.


    I did take a break when the first batch got tired, grabbed my bag, drained four Huels, a couple of Larabars, and a Gatorade. The trainer''s eyes lit up, "Jesus Christ, my man. There are guys in UFC right now who couldn''t put up with that. So we''re packin'' it in for the day?"


    "Nope, it''s just lunchtime." I got up and stretched out, then grabbed a shower with the permission of the trainer. By the time I came out, Darryl was there, as was Anna, "Hey man, got the note. My phone''s in your room, and I swung by the H.A.A. What''s the plan?"


    "Basically, we stage the fight. We hit all the right notes, just like it would set up in a comic, draw him out. Problem is, I''ve gotta be an absolute bastard to do it," I wiped myself off with my towel, and started on my way back to the ring. My trainer advised against it, but I assured him I was fine, and I could handle it. I mean, I think I can. As I hopped into the ring, I did my best Vegeta impression, "Alright, round god-damned two!"


    This time, it went different. It was the same thing I''d learned with languages: Once you knew two languages, the third got easier, and the fourth, and the fifth. It was how you had people who could speak a wide multitude of languages. It wasn''t much different with martial arts, which is what made properly trained MMA fighters so dangerous. They were constantly building, their bodies and minds trained to learn new moves, and new styles versus traditional martial arts that stayed mostly insular, karate fighter combating karate fighter. I was just doing it in a less traditional manner than usually got used. By the end of the day, I was effectively fighting five at once. Once you got over the mental hump of fighting more than one person, the general strategy was the same: Force them to one side of you, and where you could use their own numbers to cut off as many attackers as possible. I paid out the guys when I was done, and hopped out, "Thanks for putting up with me today guys. You''ve been great."


    I was breathing hard, but it was coming down as I walked off the work, "Okay, so it''s pretty basic. Thursday we have Scouts. Darryl, you''re gonna bag out on the meeting. I want you at the basketball game, say you''re working A/V. I''ll go to Scouts as planned, and let me know the moment that Reaver makes its appearance. Everything we we talk about or text near the phones from now on has to be done as if this is just us living our lives, and that Thursday is really going down the way we''re talking about."


    Anna stepped in front, "Look, Darryl filled me in, and don''t get me wrong, I''m pretty sure you''re both right, but you are not a hero, you don''t have the legal ability to do this. The H.A.A. is sending in a team-"


    "Call them off unless you want to make him an even stronger monster," I got where she was coming from, but it just didn''t matter.


    Anna looked down, "Damn it Marcus, you need to listen to me!"


    "Alright, who are they sending, then? So I can know what extra powers I''m gonna be fighting against! Yeah, this way sucks. I get it, and I wish I could come up with a better idea, but if you send in a team, that''s the end of the rules. No rules, this guy can pop out of nowhere, immediately bind someone, and take their power. It can strangle a baby with its tendril, and force heroes to let themselves die. That scythe dropped a one-foot cut through solid pavement without the swing wobbling or slowing once, so who''ve you guys got coming that doesn''t die to that thing? I''m not being reckless, I don''t want this fight, but there''s no other way this goes down that doesn''t get more people killed. And don''t worry, I''m not fighting tomorrow!"


    We were exiting the gym now, and she had a curious look on her face, "Then what are you doing tomorrow?"


    I grinned as I turned to walk off, "Getting shot at!"

 Part 18

    Mom and Dad weren''t precisely thrilled with the fact I was clearly training to fight Reaver, but I mean, there was no point in the argument with them. The fight was going to happen whether adults liked the idea or not, so the only answer was getting prepared for the showdown. Anna hated it, but being a counselor to supers specifically, she got it. She hated it, but she got it, and she did get us the H.A.A.''s file on Reaver. Two years of Reaver killing superheroes, there were eight kills, and pretty much all followed the same basic methodology: Isolate the hero, introduce yourself, get them concentrated on you, then port behind and kill (Anna had mercifully thought not to include the pictures of the dead bodies). So far, he''d killed eight heroes, and while that might not sound like a lot, given the rarity of supers in the world, it was a strong number. That also meant eight powers, plus the scythe''s own abilities. Obviously, some sort of control over a body wielding it, and some sort of ability to cloak the scythe itself so it wasn''t constantly visible.


    The list of victims were all E-Tier heroes, never any higher, so I was able to semi-confirm a working theory: Reaver had access to the H.A.A. since only the A- and S-tier heroes were widely remarked upon by their tier ranking. Anything under that, and you needed more specific knowledge. It wouldn''t stand out as odd that Anna had brought up his file, I mean, why would it? She was a counselor working with someone who had just survived an encounter with Reaver, looking up the file was pretty much standard procedure. It would be like finding it odd that a barista had looked up a particularly complicated drink order to make sure they had it right.


    If Reaver knew about Darryl, and I had to assume that he did, then there were now strictures on just what Darryl could do, and what we could talk about. Same for Mackenzie, since she was my regular sparring partner. Both were almost assuredly bugged by this point. But due to a Burn Notice marathon on Amazon (Dad''s favorite show), I''d learned something- If you uncover a spy, if you know you''re being bugged, the key is to not destroy the bugs and/or spy, or call attention to them in any way. So what do you do? You get your buddy to go to school, and talk to your former bully, to bring them into the fold. Direct eyes would be on me, somewhat on Darryl, but not on the former bully that I saved and didn''t really hang out with. Brad was now an unrealized lynchpin in the plan going forward, essentially dead-dropping stuff for all parties involved.


    I divided everyone in my life into victim categories, focusing protection on Mom and Dad, since Darryl pointed out that the number of dead parents in comics was kind of insane. People complain about Disney parents, but they have nothing of comics, so we had a dead drop to Brad, and at some point, Bard got information to Mom and Dad, not sure how, but the messaging was pretty straightforward. They, Princess, Merida, and Mackenzie went to the H.A.A., which did offer temporary housing (Usually this was for heroes that were operating in a city temporarily, but some folks in the organization had apparently been obsessed comic nerds at some point, so safehouse for relatives of a hero was also on the books).


    Removing everyone from the field was a problem, that would trigger a Rule Break, so the key was focusing on a single weak point, and that''s where being an utter bastard came into play: Aimee. Right after "Kill parental figures/close family" in comics was "Put The Love Interest In Danger". Darryl did point out that I would need to loop Aimee in, as one of the biggest red flags in the history of comics was "I lied/kept my secret to protect you", but I couldn''t do so directly. I would like it noted that you can get away with a lot in a Minecraft text chat. No one''s checking that thing, heck, a lot of server mods don''t even check the chat that close, and that''s one of their jobs.


    For his part, Brad was awesome at this. We had him at, "Hey, we need you to do something the adults won''t like you doing". It was easy enough to get the bug temporarily away from them in a way that wouldn''t arouse suspicion: Darryl got ''pinched'' playing Fortnite in class. Yeah, he got detention, but more importantly, he got his phone taken away. Brad, similarly, got himself thrown into detention as well, and also stripped of his phone, though his trick for it was a bit more M-rated. They had Tuesday afternoon locked in a classroom with no electronics to get their Spycraft 101 put together.


    Anna was in charge of getting the order out to pick up my family and get them into the H.A.A., which she had no objection to other than me not going into custody. I mean, what was she gonna say? "How dare you ask me to put your family in protective custody?!" She did mention she could order me into custody as well, to which my response was to ask how long she thought it would take me to 1% escaping the H.A.A., and if she really wanted to add that to my inherent skills list right now. She opted out of that idea but did place extra security on the house on the in-case side, which was fine.


    So what''s that leave me? A couple of days to steer the fight to where I wanted it, and train without distraction. Steering the fight was pretty straightforward, cause Reaver is a fan. That would mean Reaver was watching my channels, and that gave me an open opportunity to put the thought in his head. Darryl and I started running narrations of comic book fights. In specific, fights where the villain set up a public fight, and without fail, they were always linked to something the hero cared about. So, I made a thing of talking with Aimee about how basketball was going, missing seeing her play, and how sorry I was I had Scouts on Thursday night, but that it wasn''t too far from Scouts to the school, so I would run over after the meeting let out. Darryl broke the news to me that he wouldn''t be able to get to the meeting on Thursday, as he''d been enlisted to run A/V for the game, and I said that it sucked, but to make sure he got some good pics and video for me.


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    Tuesday, I went out to a local country club up in North Portland, ironically placed out by the bus yard for the folks that drove us to and from school. The club had a golf course, and more importantly, it had tennis courts and equipment. So I got "permission" (a.k.a. Bribed a tennis pro) to use the pitching machine for tennis balls, and started firing at myself. I started on low speed, blocking as best I could until I started being able to fully block everything coming my way, then stepped up the speed gradually, until I was going as fast as the machine would allow for. From there, I switched the settings to random speeds, so I wouldn''t know how fast any individual ball was traveling. The object lesson of the training was to be able to reactively block at both high and low speeds, and account for variance of angle. It had the added bonus of teaching me how to tell general speed, direction, and angle by visual approach. After that, I hit up the parkour gym Darryl mentioned, and that was pretty fun actually, as well as being educational for me. My chat put up that I should also find somewhere I could work on actual gymnastics to train flexibility, speed, and agility. I kept training with my foam scythe, making notations about swing arcs, the timing of swipes, and the width of the blade. I worked on fundamentally understanding every regular attack pattern the blade could use.


    Wednesday, I did indeed head out to a gymnastics place. I got trained in backflips, front flips, and other areas to add to the rolls, jumps and such that got covered by the parkour gym. I worked the pommel horse, parallel bars, balance beam, and floor routine. I had to get used to moving my body around fast, being able to change direction with as little telegraphing as possible. This was actually most likely overdoing it a bit, but I had to be ready. Thursday was the Rock Gym, getting myself to speed ascent, descent, and repelling (I did take the time to register this on the Troop Website, cause I mean, this actually covered a number of merit badges.). By the time my watch went off to get changed out and meet up with Aimee, it looked like I was speed-crawling on the floor, rather than vertically.


    I had assigned one last task, this to Anna. While she was generally known for reading the mental broadband, she could try to pull information more forcefully, but this was not considered ethical in practice, and unconstitutional by law. Unfortunately, given the current situation, it was a necessity, and Anna did understand the reason why, that I could learn to push out an invading mind. That was the task I assigned her after the gym on Monday and getting the fam to safety, to put my mind under attack, to keep trying to get in as much as she could, whenever she could, whether I was aware she was around or not. There was more I could''ve learned to do, but time was up.


    Showered, shaved, and changed into my Scout uniform, I swung by the school to wait for Aimee. We''d had a date at Salt & Straw on the books, and we were taking it. I knew when I saw her that she definitely knew what was going on, but she was still super-happy to see me, and I got to make out, so yeah, if today''s the end, it felt kind of worth it on that end. We got our ice cream, had some time sitting together, and Aimee took a moment, "You know, I actually kind of like the uniform. It''s weird, but like, you seem more comfortable in it than I usually see you."


    I shrugged, leaning my head on hers like when we''d had that moment at her apartment. I loved this, "I mean, Scouts has always been my thing. I read to Merida, and martial arts is really Mackenzie''s thing, and Scouts is me. Also, it''s terribly comfortable. I think one day, everyone will be wearing one."


    She giggled, "How do you do that?"


    "Make references to stuff? It''s really about committing fully to the Dork Side."


    Aimee slapped my chest playfully, giggling again, "No, I mean... how are you so calm? Like, you''re being hunted by a madman, and you''re doing all this stuff, and you''re still just... you."


    I nodded, "Chronic Peter Parker syndrome."


    "Who?", She broke away to look at me.


    I wished she''d stayed put, "Right, uh, comic nerds kinda died out a decade ago. Peter Parker was known as a superhero in comics, Spider-Man. He has the proportional strength, speed, and reflexes of a spider, and had these devices, called web-shooters that he could use, along with ''Spider-Senses'' that let him detect danger even if he wasn''t aware of what the danger was, or where it was coming from. What he was even more well-known for was being a complete and utter smartass in a crisis. He''d be fighting a half-dozen supervillains, and just roasting the lot of them the whole time.


    "Also, he got married to a supermodel, so hey, at least I''m following in his footsteps on more than one count."


    That one got me some more time making out, and eventually, Aimee headed back for the game, and I headed off for my Scout meeting. Darryl was texting non-stop about website stuff, which was actually just him letting me know he was in place, and confirming his phone would work in the A/V booth. Also, unless I missed my guess, a junior girl- I want to say her name is Missy- in A/V was starting to take an interest in Darryl, but he was completely missing it. I mean, like, I''m not one to talk, but I''d need to talk to Darryl after this was over... y''know, assuming there was a later.


    Okay, so off to Scouts. I pretty much just ran things as a normal meeting, helped set up Russ''s Eagle service project, and got our Tenderfoots going on some knotwork when my phone pinged. Darryl texted: "Boss Battle, Phase Two."

 Part 19

    Alright, Darryl, you''ve got this. I got my setup for tonight''s game complete. Damn it, I missed one villain fight, I''m not getting cut out on this again. I set up Go Pros around the gym, which was pretty easy to excuse since I could just tell Coach that Marcus asked me to. He was really enthusiastic about it after that. I managed to get things set up for Aimee and Brad too, cause I mean, I''m an obvious nerd. No one even checked my bags past seeing A/V equipment in them. Now, if I could just get Michelle to stop hanging on top of me and touching me, I could get this done a lot faster.


    This was gonna be awesome. A real supervillain fight, and yeah, it''s scary, but like... roller coaster scary. According to the file, Reaver didn''t bother with baselines, it was only interested in powers, not people. As long as it could be certain that it would get what it wanted, Reaver wouldn''t try to wipe us. No point, it would net nothing according to its own methodologies.


    Okay, so this might all go down fast, so I set up the cavalry text ahead of time. All I would need to do is hit send. I went through settings, changed things up so the phone wouldn''t lock up, and hooked it up to power. I may have also set up a playlist. I mean, come on, how often am I ever getting this kind of chance?


    And then... it got super boring. We were all set up, people were coming in for the game, and yeah, it was just a high school girls'' basketball game, a JV game at that. Our team, the Huskies, was crushing it, and that had a lot to do with Marcus. He''d helped a lot, even if his time was brief working with the team, making it look like the other girls were just standing still. He''d taught them to do no-look short-passing, keeping anyone from knowing where the ball was heading. Rather than focusing on any individual member, it wreaked havoc on trying to establish a defensive play. The Ducks couldn''t key on anyone, and couldn''t cut off the offense. They were getting demolished in the first half, and although they were getting points on the board, the Huskies were scoring almost every time they got the ball, and the Ducks were getting burned out.


    I was getting pretty impatient as we went into half-time, and the cheerleaders took the court... and that''s when it happened. Suddenly, everyone froze in horror as Reaver materialized mid-court. Michelle next to me got ready to run, but I grabbed her arm as I hit send.


    No one was moving, all trapped in the same mute horror.... wait, no, crapbaskets. Some sort of fear aura, but me and the A/V nerds were fine. Radial limit. We were outside the radius, but if we went downstairs from the booth, we might blunder into it. Reaver, however, was just getting ready to begin, when that rasping voice came out, projecting to the whole gym even without a mic, "Ladies and Gentlemen, children of all ages, tonight you bear witness to fate itself! Can the hero Aegis stop the Reaver?! Or will my apotheosis come to fruition?!"


    Okay, it should only take a few minutes for Marcus to get here, and all I had to do was sit still... and instead, I''m hitting the A/V booth mic, "Reaver, Aegis is coming for you!"


    Reaver let forth a maniacal laugh, "AH, the sidekick. Good, let us make this special."


    You know, I should be worried about him knowing me, but like, sidekicks are pretty cool... I may need to consider therapy after this. Reaver, for its part, wrapped a tendril around the neck of a cheerleader, and hoisted her off the ground, "Now, I do believe this girl''s parents are in attendance. Please, take a stand!"


    The audience was released from the grip of the fear aura, and some people were clearly looking to bolt. I screamed into the mic, "FREEZE! He can kill all of you before you make the doors! He just wants Aegis. Do as he says, Aegis is coming."


    People had become conditioned to superheroes. We had drills in school for this. Stating that the hero was coming settled some of the nerves, and aside from two people, everyone sat back down. The girl was Becky, one of Aimee''s friends, and those two must be her parents. Reaver regarded first me, then the parents, "So good to have someone with sense helping me out. Lock the doors, except for that one."


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    Her parents complied, begging him not to hurt Becky. All according to cake. With all but the center door locked, Reaver let Becky down, "Now, let''s clear the stage, shall we?"


    Becky and the rest of the cheerleaders got off the court, and suddenly, everyone froze again under the aura. A moment later, I heard the bang of the outside doors of the gym. Marcus was here. Ah, fuck it. It was the purest level of vanity, but we could all be dead men, so let''s have some fun with it.


    **********


    The building was essentially a combined gym and cafeteria, so stepping inside, I could see up to the gym doors. And then I heard... music?! Damn it, Darryl!


    I moved as fast as I could, opening the center door, and came in to the first lyrics of the song:


    Some legends are told


    Some turn to dust or to gold


    But you will remember me


    Remember me for centuries


    Fallout Boy... I could die here with Fallout Boy playing.


    Reaver''s laugh rang out as I stepped in, "Welcome... Boy scout."


    Everyone''s having too much fun with this shit, and also, I need to put together a super-suit if I''m gonna keep doing this, "You know what? I''ll give you that one."


    I was still playing to Reaver''s need, drawing on its belief that this was just how the thing was done. No one seemed hurt, but everyone was paralyzed, and I could feel something pressing lightly on my mind. An aura, "Alright, Reaver, you wanted this fight, you got it. Release the hold!"


    "Oh, of course. What better than to have an audience to this, the moment of my ascendancy!"


    I could see people relax, and I caught a slight nod from Aimee. Alright, deep end it is. I started walking forward, and took my cover off, tossing it over to Aimee along with my neckerchief. I took a neutral stance, and looked to Reaver, no doubt making its puppet smile behind the mask, "Take your best shot."


    He started his charge, and I started mine, darting across the court at each other. Just as I got within the reach of the scythe, he swung, the arc coming in at waist height. I leaped, clearing his head and bells, and he disappeared, porting to slash in the air at me. I balled up, and both feet hit the flat of the blade, using it as a springboard, and slung an arm around the puppet''s neck, but as expected, his blipped out again, and I felt the tendril wrap my ankle. In air, strength didn''t matter, I didn''t have the leverage, and one yank brought me back down. I didn''t bother trying to fight the pull, instead using it, rolling then jumping over another swing of the scythe. We stayed in constant motion, a war of counters. If I got a hand on Reaver, it ported immediately, so I had no chance of disarm. Reaver''s laughter intensified, it loved this.


    There is a flaw, and it''s the same between the two of us. It doesn''t really matter how skilled, or how perceptive you are, if you''re not maintaining attention, if you become distracted, you''re vulnerable. The fight raged on, five minutes, ten minutes, and neither of us could get or maintain an advantage, firing back and forth around the court. Reaver seemed to have decided that the lines equaled the ring, keeping us contained... damn, how long was Darryl''s playlist?!


    That one got me caught, and I felt the air get blasted out of my lungs as I hit the court from a tendril throw. Reaver reappeared standing over me, and raised the scythe high, "And now hero, you-"


    He never finished the statement as his whole body seized and fell, two tiny wires protruding from his back as Aimee stood, holding the tazer at the other end of those lines. The scythe hit the ground, and I kicked it away, signaling Aimee to release the trigger on the tazer. Strictly speaking, they weren''t legal, but I figured given the circumstances, no one would kick up much fuss. I took a moment to get my breath back and stood up to people loudly cheering. Cops were called, and I checked the body that Reaver had been inhabiting. He had a pulse, and I took the mask off to check his breathing. He was essentially fine. Cool.


    One last thing to take care of. I went over to Aimee, and we held each other tightly for a moment, "You alright?"


    She laughed, "Am I alright?!"


    We did take a moment to laugh, and as people flooded out of the gym, I walked over to where the scythe lay on the ground, and looked over to the other side of the court, "Brad! Phase Three!"


    I grabbed the scythe and felt it as dark energy washed over me, swallowing me while Brad fished out his own tazer.

 Part 20

    The gym disappeared around me, and I was looking around at an inky void. I could hear muffled voices in the distance, and I recognized them as Aimee and Brad. Looking, I saw my hand was empty... Liminal space? It got used in enough games, stories, and anime that I was familiar with the concept. I was still in the gym, but my mind was in a between space. The darkness was trying to close to reach me, but it couldn''t seem to quite close. Searching around, I didn''t even see the scythe, though part of me could feel it in my hand, and I could see the rest of my body.


    "Reaver! I know you''re here, even if I can''t see you!"


    The darkness receded, it seemed to bunch up, forming until the dark clown appeared, but without the scythe in hand, and now, the voice came out differently, dark but melodic, the rasp gone, "Welcome, Aegis. So strange... I would have assumed you were not foolish enough to take me in your hand. Tsk, tsk, tsk young man, that was a mistake."


    I smiled, "Not really. See, you messed up. You gave me prep time, and it wasn''t just my body I worked on. I was already becoming strong against what Adam called ''intrusive powers'', so I took the next logical step: I had a psychic attack my mind constantly the last few days. My 1% strengthened my defenses between then and now."


    I felt the ''ground'' beneath me, and took a step forward, "I was the one person you shouldn''t have messed with, Reaver, and I''m afraid you''re never getting the chance again, not with me or anyone else."


    As I stepped forward, Reaver stepped back, "Ah, poor little Timothy. He''s been through so much since we met these last couple of years."


    "Don''t change the subject!", I took another step, and Reaver retreated again, and the ground felt more solid, less spongy, and I chuckled slightly, "You really screwed this up. You''re trying to stay back. You can''t control me, that''s an impossibility, but can I control you? That''s why you''re retreating, but you''re not teleporting. Can''t access the powers without a body to control, can you?"


    Now a full hop back, and a spear of darkness lanced out at me. If this wasn''t the real world, there was no reason to be limited to my real powers. I dodged out and focused my mind on my own internal light, Aimee, Darryl, my family. I watched as light engulfed my body, and as the next lance came in, I deflected it, and felt a weight leaving me. The Reaver shook, dodging back, bending darkness as a shield, "What are you?"


    I couldn''t just defend, I could just block, I need more, but this was a battle wills, not a fight, "You know, the funny thing is, I''m not the one who beat you, Darryl is."


    Reaver seethed, "What?!"


    "Oh yeah, totally. See, Darryl''s a way bigger nerd than me, always has been. Not sure if you''d be familiar with this, but do you know what an Ego Check is?" I started moving a little faster now, the darkness was retreating, "It''s from one of Darryl''s games, Dungeons & Dragons. Some magic items and artifacts are so powerful that they become sentient, and develop an ego. To use them, you have to overcome that ego with the power of your own will. Succeed, and you can wield the item, fail and you either can''t, or worst case, the item controls you. Sound familiar?"


    An explosion of concentrated darkness slammed into me like a wall. Reaver was panicking, launching a hard assault. I''d struck a nerve, at least. Problem was, this was a lot. Think, man, the taunting is working, but you need an offense, something you can center your mind around... oh, that''s just stupid.


    As I was barely maintaining my ''footing'', I focused on the mantra I knew the best, one I''d said week in, week out for years, "A Scout is... Trustworthy!"


    The light intensified, and I could feel something change, my shirt becoming tougher, morphing itself to become like armor. It doesn''t really matter what you base your will around, just that you have that foundation, that ideal. I''d been made fun of and even bullied for my time in Scouts, but it was about to save my soul, "Loyal!"


    Another step against the current of seething darkness, and my senses expanded. Reaver was the darkness, it was all just a representation of wills, "Helpful!"


    A small shield... a buckler, formed on my left arm, and I used it to bash away the attack. Reaver was screaming now, the facade of the jester cracking, "Friendly!"


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    The darkness perverted around me, pushing, condensing, and I could feel light behind me now, lending me strength, "Courteous!"


    The light took on form and became its own force behind me, and I began to understand: My light, my ideal, was the weapon, it was the offense. It could protect, it could strengthen, and it could push back the darkness, "Kind!"


    Fred, Samson, Brad''s Mom, Brad himself. The light I make in the world, my promise to make it better, to ease the suffering. Reaver wasn''t talking anymore, its full capability fighting to maintain its domain, "Obedient!"


    I sort of chuckled at that one. This whole plan had been couched firmly in not listening to the people in charge, but I had been obedient, just to my own morals, my own ideals, what I knew to be right, "Cheerful!"


    The story of me sharing my danish and Yoo-Hoo with Aimee, not even realizing how much that one tiny act, that one small piece of brightening up her day changed so many things. Helping Brad, who now stood ready to stop me if this didn''t work, if I failed, "Thrifty!"


    I had come so far just in the last few days, used every resource, pulled every strand I could, and even beyond that, my upcoming company, even my Sundays, they all had value, created value, and I wasted nothing. By now, the force of light was pushing ahead of me, and the Reaver was consolidating, drawing back into itself to preserve its essence, "Brave!"


    I mean, I''m literally fighting this thing, but really, that''s not true bravery. The true strength was in being afraid, but choosing action, revealing myself to the world, and admitting how I feel to Aimee, those were all far more courageous than the fighting, "Clean!"


    To keep my mind fit, I''d done it. Sure, I had anger, but I was dealing, I was learning to clear it out, and anger wasn''t a problem by itself, it was how it was used, how it got channeled. I could clean away the things in my city, my community that were soiling it. Not people, but the idiocy, the self-defeating cycle of it all, "And Reverant!"


    The light shot past Reaver, and now, there was no defense. Reaver stood now as I had, and I brought my arms up and back, a bow of light forming an arrow as I drew back the string, the full light of my will, my being formed into a single point. I fired through the true heart of Reaver, the mask, and it, and the darkness were obliterated.


    The gym reappeared as the light dissipated, and I dropped to my knees, taking my hand off the scythe for a moment before touching it again. There was no darkness this time, no force of energy. Brad called over, holding Aimee behind him with one arm, "We good dude?!"


    I laughed silently and changed hands holding the scythe, giving him a thumbs up, and collapsed. I didn''t pass out or anything, just... fuck. Physically, mentally, emotionally, I was fucking exhausted. Aimee rushed over and knelt down, hugging me. Okay, this part''s good, "So, uh, sorry I missed the game."


    She laughed really hard as she held my head against her chest, "You are an idiot!"


    Cops came blaring in, paramedics, news crews, and H.A.A. reps, I''m pretty sure I saw the National Guard, it was kinda nuts. Using the haft of the scythe, I got to my feet as John came in, Anna in tow, and he seemed both worried as well as decidedly agitated, "You okay, kid?"


    "Yeah, I''m good." I was really too tired to have an argument.


    In the end, we were held up for a couple of hours answering questions. The man who had been taken over by the Reaver was named Tim Ford, an E-Tier. His power was psychometry, and he''d worked abroad with archeological teams and Interpol. His ability had allowed him to see the history and impressions of an object by touching them, so when a rare scythe had been unearthed in an ancient tomb, he''d been called in to get the impression off of it. Reaver awoke and took over his mind.


    The ability itself was pretty cool, actually. He could touch a handgun, and see who had committed a crime with it, all the way back to when it was first made. It didn''t have a single combat or rescue utility really, but in law enforcement and archeology? Insane. He hadn''t moved since he lost the scythe, and had to be rushed off by the paramedics. Becky, physically at least, was fine but would have some sessions with Anna for the mental and emotional end of things.


    I got chewed out by John pretty hard. Yeah, sooo... I could go into it, but I was tired as shit, and kind of done with the whole thing, so I just "yeah-yeah"''ed through it for a bit, and then looked at him, "Fuckin'' done?"


    "You will not-"


    I decked him, and as he lay there on the floor, I looked down at him, "I won''t what? Or you''ll... what, exactly? Send a team of supers after a kid? Think I won''t livestream whatever''s coming? I don''t work for you, I don''t serve you, and I''m not going to. I''m about sick of people who can''t keep up telling me what I can and can''t do. SO, here''s how it''s gonna work: If I want to fight crime, I''ll fight crime. If I don''t want to fight, I won''t. And if someone threatens anyone or anything that I care about? Fuck around and find out."


    Funnily enough, there must''ve been around a hundred people in that gymnasium, in the middle of open court, and yet somehow, not one person saw me hit him. The four of us went out front and sat down on the curb in front of the gym after that. Just four kids, and a formerly psychotic scythe on my lap. Aimee did return my neckerchief, but put my BSA cap on and decided it was hers. I just spent some time breathing as the others went back and forth about everything that''d happened, and then we all got quiet as everyone finished clearing out. Finally, I couldn''t hold it in anymore, "Anyone wanna hit up Shari''s?"


    All three of them responded in unison, "YES!"

 Part 21

    "Greetings and Welcome. My name is Marisol Reyes, and tonight, a very special report. As most are aware by now, a huge showdown in Portland, Oregon between the serial hero killer Reaver and Aegis took place just one week ago. While reports were scattered at first, multiple online videos have surfaced since, detailing the entirety of the fight. The action was so quick, that several enterprising social media personalities have also shown the fight slowed down so that it can be more easily followed for casual viewers.


    "There have been no fatalities in the incident, and no serious injuries, though obviously, all involved have been through a harrowing experience. Most of all Tim Ford, a hero with the power to touch objects and trace them back. He was trapped by the power of a magical scythe, the very scythe that was the signature weapon of Reaver. In the two years that Reaver had control of Mr. Ford, he slew eight heroes, the powers absorbing into the scythe until Aegis became the newest target of Reaver. Tonight, we welcome, from Portland, Oregon, the hero of heroes, *Aegis*!"


    *Oh God, that is just SO wrong*. I stepped onto the stage, and the crowd erupted with applause, many leaving their seats, it was... disconcerting for me. I waved and bowed to the crowd, taking off my new BSA cap as I did, and took a seat. The armchair was surprisingly comfortable and the set itself was rigged to look almost like one of those back porch areas that''s got the glass encasement. A solar, I think? I''ll look it up later. Ms. Reyes opened up, "Welcome to our show, Aegis. How are you doing tonight?"


    I set my cap on my knee, "I''m doing great, Ms. Reyes, but uh, you can just call me Marcus. It''s not like it''s a secret."


    She smiled in that faked sincerity that all the reporters used, "Oh, sweetie, you can call me Marisol here. How did you come up with the name Aegis, Marcus?"


    I took a quick breath, "Well, Ms. Marisol, Aegis is actually my gamertag, which is what I use online. I never really intended it to be my hero name, it''s just the name I''m used to using. As to where I got it from, I got it from the video game Final Fantasy, specifically Final Fantasy Four. I just thought it sounded cool. I didn''t learn until much later that it was associated with Greek mythology."


    She laughed at little more than she should have, a piece for the show, and it was more genuine, "So you like video games?"


    "Oh yeah. Me and my buddy Darryl- Uh, he''s the one from the video shouting over the mic- play a bunch. I''ve mostly been working on simulators like Cities: Skylines of late. Actually, on that front, I''ve been building Portland within the game, and I''m even coding mods right now for the game to add elements to make it more true to life," I was gesturing with my arm, and Marisol noticed the metal under my flannel.


    "Um, excuse me, but is that... a watch?" Ms. Marisol pointed.


    Well, this is gonna be a weird moment, "Oh, uh.... This is Reaver."


    I pulled up the sleeve of the flannel and held up what looked like a chrome bracer. Marisol took a moment on that one, "So, you remade the scythe into a... some sort of forearm guard?"


    "Oh, no, no. Reaver did. This... is gonna be a bit of an explanation if you don''t mind," I sat forward and concentrated for a moment, and Reaver shifted form, moving up into my hand, and reforming into a quarterstaff made of the same chrome-like metal.


    She nodded slowly, "I think I can safely say that all of our audience at home would appreciate some explanation of this."


    I nodded, "Reaver was first forged back just before the fall of Rome, a sort of final weapon to try and save the empire. Unfortunately, a thief broke in and killed the forger who made it, and ran off with the weapon, which at the time was a spear."


    Reaver reformed again, becoming a perfect Roman longspear, "The thief used it until he, in turn, was killed by a crime boss who wanted it, and reformed into a gladius, the boss''s preferred weapon. From there, it would change hands repeatedly between various criminals, warlords, and such, quietly in the shadows of Europe''s Dark Ages. With each user, Reaver developed more of an identity, but formed from the amalgam of its users, and eventually, became a sort of embodiment of the concept of death itself, forming into the scythe we''re more familiar with."


    Reaver kept shifting as I told the tale, changing again and again as I told the story, going through the various forms it had held throughout the centuries, with the exception of the scythe itself... we''d had that conversation. Ms. Marisol sat spellbound but continued listening, and I saw one of the guys signaling to delay the commercial break, "Eventually, it came into the hands of a pretty depraved lunatic, a court jester to some minor noble that history''s basically forgotten. He wasn''t just a jester, however, but that lord''s personal assassin and that guy died of the Black Plague. By then, we had a fully formed version of what we call The Grim Reaper, and it had evolved into the scythe you see now. From there, it felt its master die, and no new master came. The tomb it was recovered from wasn''t even its actual burial tomb, it was just where the last wielder of Reaver died, trying to hide from the bounty hunters trying to take him down.


    "With all these murders, Reaver''s entire identity was, more or less, formed entirely of murderers, rapists, and warlords, incredibly prolific killers all, even by the standards of Medieval Europe... which is saying something. What had been designed to be the last hope of Rome became the ultimate weapon of destruction. Fast forward, and when Tim found the scythe, it finally, for the first time in centuries had a wielder, but Tim was a really nice guy, and of course, wasn''t a warrior, and so Reaver forced its mind over his, finally making it its own master, sort of like how a drowning victim might panic, and try to drag down their rescuer. Reaver''s first task was to amass the power it needed, and in our parlance, Hero has a very specific connotation, as one who sacrifices for others, often without expectation of glory or riches. For the Greeks, Hero was very different, as most fought only for glory and ''honor'', which was also considered very differently."


    Her earpiece was buzzing, and Ms. Marisol regained composure, "That is absolutely fascinating, and we''ll hear more about it after the break."


    The cameraman signaled the cut, and Ms. Marisol leaned in toward me as people came in to reset for the next part of the interview. This included one of the... PAs? I could be wrong on that one. It''s been a crazy week, "Marcus, seriously, that is Reaver?"


    I nodded, "Oh yeah, it''s been a crazy week for me."


    She talked with her producer for a moment, who apparently was talking ratings with her, and I waved over one of the guys around the catering table to bring one of the pastries I saw. I figured I should get the cannoli in while I was on the East Coast. I was just finishing it as we got the countdown signal from the clipboard person. Marisol immediately, "Welcome back. We''re continuing our interview tonight with the hero known as Aegis, who has dramatically revealed a hidden history of the sentient weapon, Reaver. So, Marcus, you were saying that Reaver had a long chain of criminals as wielders. How did this inform what it became?"


    I leaned back in the chair, "Well, imagine a child raised with only the morals and ethics of Charles Manson and Hannibal Lecter, and then remember that both of those monsters in the flesh would be considered to be posting rookie numbers by the standards of the Dark Ages of Europe. The most hardcore conservatives of the here and now would be a bunch of tree-hugging hippies even a couple of hundred years ago. When that child turns 18 and goes out into the world, they have no exposure to any sort of traditional morality, and that''s just shy of two decades, let alone centuries.


    "Its understanding of the term Hero was based on the Heros- to be distinguished from heroes as we know them- of ancient Greece, and they were not considered on the value of anything we''d consider a hero in today''s world. So when it took over the mind of Tim, Reaver just applied its own understanding of the model. Villains are the enemies of heroes, and so it looked at Tim''s conception of what a villain is and... well, when we talk about villains, we have a particular meaning, too, that''s very different. It used to mean someone bound to the land of a villa, so essentially, farmers and other lower-class jobs that were bound to the lands of their noble lord.


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    "That turned into villein, which just meant someone of less than knightly status, then got sort of jammed in with the word vile, and we start getting to where we are now, and that got made concrete when supers first emerged and the first supervillains appeared. By the time our concept of heroes and villains had fully become a thing, Reaver was totally entombed and missed that piece of etymology. Tim was a Hero, and the Hero was fighting it, trying to deny it. So, it registered itself as the enemy of heroes, and the whole horror show began."


    Ms. Marisol sat silent for a moment while I took a sip from my mug of Dr. Pepper, "So, how did you learn all this?"


    "Reaver.... told is the wrong technical word here... but it presented itself to me? Originally, during the final bit where I picked up the scythe, and the huge light show began that eventually destroyed the cameras, Reaver saw itself in the guise of that jester with the scythe, and that''s what it showed me in a liminal space- A sort of mental space sort of akin to a dream state, but conscious or lucid dreaming- where we fought for final control."


    Ms. Marisol stopped me, "Wait... what happened there?"


    I laughed and shook my head, "You know, I must''ve explained this to people half a dozen times, and I have yet to have anyone believe me that it went down that way, but here it goes: Basically, it was a war between Light and Dark. Darkness was all Reaver knew, and saw the light as its enemy, as its end. It was a contest of wills, so I focused on my light, and the people I love, and Reaver freaked out, and went on a full assault. I nearly lost."


    She wasn''t even disguising her genuine curiosity at this point, leaning in her chair, "You almost lost? What would''ve happened if you had?"


    "Well, I had a plan for that. I set up a classmate of mine to incapacitate me, then just, y''know, kick the scythe away. I knew that there was a chance that this went against me, but I couldn''t take the chance that some cop touched it, and suddenly we''ve got a Reaver that has actual modern combat training. Anyways, I was pushing Reaver, trying to gain control, and it was pushing back, trying to defend itself... and from there, to harness my will, I did an... unconventional mantra," God, they''d *all* thought I was joking when I told them, but truth is stranger than fiction.


    Ms. Marisol smiled, "And what was that mantra?"


    I was fighting laughing, "I swear, by all I hold dear in this world, I recited the Scout Laws for Boy Scouts."


    She really did laugh this time, and not that ''ha ha ha'' laugh of eternaly, she actually snorted a bit and her accent picked up as I joined in on laughing, "This insane evil, and you just... Dios Mio!"


    I wiped a tear from my eye as I broke and laughed a little myself, "Look, if I''d had a better mantra, I''d have used it, but I''ve been in Scouts one way or another since I was like four years old! I started out as a Tagalong in Mackenzie''s Brownie troop, then when I was six, I went after Tiger Scouts myself. I''ve had to teach those laws to incoming boys, made sure they had it down pat and explained the tenets of the laws to them."


    "And what happens to Reaver now?"


    I considered for a bit, "Well... I''m not entirely sure. It isn''t inherently evil, nothing that can think is, it was just used and abused for so long that it assumed that was the natural state and balance of the world, to be the abuser or the abused. I was shocked as hell when it appeared to my mind while we were getting in the Uber on the way to Shari''s. It pleaded for me not to let go of it, cause I had to stick it somewhere, and like, seriously, it was a seven-foot-tall scythe. Van or not, it wasn''t fitting as it was. When it pleaded to my mind, it sort of... it felt like a child crying out, not that dark thing I''d fought. When it realized it wouldn''t fit in the van, it reformed itself into the bracer, which was so much easier to carry around. Shocked the hell out of the driver, though.


    "In any event, it just didn''t want to die or to be cast aside again. Its entire understanding of the world outside itself is based on having someone to wield it, so imagine a heavily abused puppy that''s then abandoned in a ditch, and finally found someone they feel safe around, never wanting to be put down, or left at home."


    I was suddenly aware of the audience again as they grumbled. Wait, they''re sympathetic? Sort of figured that''d be a harder sell, but I guess once you start describing abused animals, it kind of snaps everyone around to how horrific the treatment was. Ms. Marisol''s eyes were a little watery, then she quirked a bit, "So... wait, who''s Shari?"


    "Oh, shi-- um, sorry. Shari''s is a chain of 24-hour diners back home. I''m just so used to everyone knowing that I didn''t think to explain. We were all a bit hungry after the whole thing, so went and got food til parents came to get us. We didn''t just walk off by ourselves, though. Ms. Anna from the H.A.A. went with us. She''s a therapist and counselor for new supers at the Portland Branch, so we''ve talked a bunch. Obviously, after the whole fight went down... having a trained child-super therapist along was probably a good thing," I nodded along to emphasize the last bit, then got back to business with Reaver''s current status, "So now, I''m having to essentially train Reaver in modern morals and ethics, which is why I''m carrying it around with me. I don''t really have much use for weapons, so I''m not sure where it goes from here, but I want to see the powers that Reaver took put to the use they were intended for by their respective heroes, to help those that need it, so something of them continues to live on through service."


    There was applause, "An absolutely stunning story, Marcus. Let me ask you, outside of this whole thing, what are you working on now?"


    "Ooh, I got to go to my first high school dance with my girlfriend. I have a girlfriend! She''s really pretty."


    Why did I hear someone grumble angrily about me having a girlfriend?! People are weird, "Um, working on some mods for Cities: Skylines and I''ve been learning coding, uh... let''s see, learned Spanish, Japanese, and I''m working on Italian. Next, I''m thinking Gaelic, since I''m Irish. Got into parkour, some paintball... Oh, yeah, and I officially started my own company! Totally spaced on that one."


    She was silently laughing into her hand for a moment, "Oh, just a little light incorporating on the side, huh?"


    The interview went great, and it managed to generally go over well. From there, we talked about dating as a super, the goals of McKenna Solutions (I left out the mall plan.), my company, and some of the other various stuff I was into, and I got some stuff in about Scouting and how much I loved it. It was a pretty intense hour, but I was so drained by the time I got back home. Hours upon hours of plane travel, just for a one-hour interview. Ugh.


    Back home, the H.A.A. was pretty pissed with me on a number of levels. The whole plan had been basically me flouting their authority with malice of forethought, but on the other side of that, they couldn''t really do much about it. There were hundreds of hours of video on the internet showing me fighting a hero-killer. Other heroes were pretty much universally on my side here, with the rare exception here or there that didn''t really care, or were sticklers for the rules and regs.


    Mr. Palazzi wasn''t *super* thrilled with me right now, since part of the plan I''d used boiled down to ''I gave your daughter a firearm and had her fire it at a psychotic super-clown wielding a magical scythe while I was flat on my ass'' followed by ''then I grabbed the magic sentient weapon, and my only backup plan to that was to give another fourteen-year-old a firearm and tell him to shoot me with it if I fucked up''. He did, however, understand his daughter well enough to know that she absolutely wouldn''t bother with any order to stay away from me. Or, as he put it, grumbling, "Might as well hang a giant LED sign pointing to you with the words ''free chocolate'' on it."


    Partly because the Huskies had been so far ahead, and partly because one member of the Huskies *did* help take down a supervillain, the Ducks opted to let it be a win for the Huskies. Friday''s dance was moved to Saturday, and school was canceled for Friday. Again, pretty sure that was a solid plan. Mr. Palazzi laughed hysterically when he saw my reaction to Aimee''s dress for the dance, angry with me or not, "If I didn''t have video evidence of you fighting that thing, I''d never believe it."


    I was six-foot-three now, but the growth had stopped. The rest of the 1% still seemed to be working, so I went by Dr. Kim''s office at OHSU, just to make sure things were okay. He explained that generally speaking, genetics is a major factor in height and can be affected by things like nutrition and such, but to think of DNA like a blueprint. The lack of further growth just meant that, as far as the body was concerned, I had finished with that part of puberty''s construction system. At least I could finally settle into a single size of clothes. The constant re-shopping of my wardrobe was seriously getting on my last nerve.


    In other news, I had to replace pretty much my entire uniform for Scouts. Hadn''t noticed until I was in the bathroom at Shari''s, but yeah, Scout uniforms aren''t really built for advanced gymnastics and combat. I''d torn the pants, the shirt, and even the damn belt had even gotten f''ed up. Even my shoes and socks were shredded from the movements and severity of the fight. Only the neckerchief and cap survived, and Aimee hadn''t been kidding. She was now wearing that thing around school, so I ordered a new one, which I''m still breaking in, but if I''m honest, I really like her wearing my hat. Mom made a case for my dead uniform, sort of a trophy of the fight. She thought I''d looked ''dashing''. I started on designs for an actual super-suit, cause I''m not showing up in that again. Ever seen someone look like a badass taking off a Boy Scout neckerchief? Yeah, I''ve watched the video, and neither have I.


    Now, interestingly, I *did* sort of skip over a thing in the interview. So, in the week leading up to the fight, I realized that trying to ''multi-task'' learning really didn''t work anywhere near as well as focus learning. Essentially, multi-tasking just meant doing a bunch of stuff less well than you would if you were focusing on any one thing. Yeah, it worked for general knowledge, but for more advanced stuff, it was better if I actually focused. So if, just hypothetically mind, I wanted to learn to max out day trading on the stock market, it would be vastly faster to just focus on that by itself. In completely unrelated news, Wall Street is becoming a little anxious about shorting stocks this week for some reason. Huh, weird coincidence.

 Chapter Announcement

    Greetings Readers,


    First of all, let me start with an apology for going quiet the past couple of weeks. I got really sick for like a week and a half, and then that led straight into a nine-day stint working a rodeo in St. Paul, which I''m officially done with today. Much as I tried to get a little bit done, between work, sleep, and commute I was losing twenty hours of my day, which the other four being dedicated to things like showering, having at least one real meal, and soaking my feet to keep myself going at it. I just didn''t have it in me coming off of being sick to do that level of work for writing. This isn''t really an excuse, insomuch as explaining to you the course of events.


    So what now? Well, one of the upsides of my run at the rodeo is I made enough money to have a solid block of uninterrupted writing time, which I mean to take full advantage of. This means new chapters for Incremental Improvement, Pre-Warp Survival, and Valoria Saga. My goal is to get back to having a proper buffer on all stories, and yes, I will be making dead certain I account for the sorts of shenanigans that''ve already happened.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Today is sort of a rest day, and pursuant to that, I''m throwing a 24-hour writing binge starting tomorrow. My intention is to stream it on my Twitch channel (https://www.twitch.tv/dragonstryk72</a>), starting from Monday July 8th, at 9am Pacific Standard Time (12pm Eastern Standard Time), and closing out on July 9th, at 9am PST/12pm EST. This is kind of like a writing retreat for me, where I''ll be working on various stuff.


    So feel free to swing by in the comments, and if there''s interest, I may pursue doing more writing and such on Twitch.

 Part 22

    The study into Reaver was kind of fascinating. The first thing I''d learned was that the powers I had noticed in Reaver were not the only powers that it held. I made notes on each of the powers:


    Short-Range Teleportation- Teleportation within a range of sight. There were several limitations that kept it in the E-Tier. The power itself didn''t augment anything else, so you had to train with it to get over the displacement sickness it caused. It had limited range, so even if I could see something off in the distance, I couldn''t just immediately port there. On top of the training needed to effectively utilize it without hurling, and the range limitations, I also could not go through solid objects with it. While it might be considered an awesome power, its limiters are what brought it back to E-Tier.


    Black Tendrils- Produced black tendrils from either hand that could wrap around a person or object. They could be manipulated by the user, but were limited to the strength of the user, and since they came out of the hands, you can''t be holding anything in your hand. I''d been able to exploit that myself, and as well, had a hard range limit of 10 meters, just over 32 feet. Still useful, but again, the limitations of the ability kept it safely low-threat weighed against higher-tier abilities.


    Agility Boost- Augments the agility of the wielder. Tim hadn''t been all that agile, but with this had been on my level of agility given my 1%. That was the limiter on this one, that it wasn''t superhuman unless you maintained a top-level of agility to start from. For most people, to top out this ability, you have to spend your life in constant training.


    Fear aura- within its radius, the power overloaded the fight or flight response of everyone in the area. This was powerful, sure, but it was the AoE problem. You couldn''t discriminate, so any allies or bystanders in the zone were humped as well. Its range was a radius of just over 15 meters, or 50 feet, and as with the teleportation, it didn''t go through solid objects.


    Those were the powers I''d already essentially known about at the point of the fight, but that was only half the registry of powers in the bracer. Reaver had taken eight heroes out, and some things still remained:


    Prey scent- Once I "locked in" a scent, I could track it pretty much forever until I released it, caught them, or they found a way to break the scent marker. This was one of the tracking abilities that had helped it find me and other heroes, to get them alone. No practical combat use outside the niche, but it would be useful in the law enforcement sense of crime-fighting.... also when I lost my keys or wallet, not that that comes up a few times.


    Technopathy- Ability to communicate with and manipulate digital devices. Its limiting factors were sort of robust. For instance, you can''t just ''do anything'' with it, you have to essentially know what you''re doing with the device, so yeah, I "could" try to communicate with a nuclear bomb, but lacking any key knowledge of how to activate anything within the system, I wouldn''t be able to do much, though I could potentially shut one down by hitting the wrong passcode a few times, but I could do that by just mashing random buttons. Next up, computers speak in coding language, so unless you''re about to spend your life learning every computer code in use, again, you''re kind of limited on that. Yeah, you could use most phone apps, and that was how I''d been ultimately tracked by my phone through the H.A.A. app, along with Reaver being able to listen to the mic on my phone, since those were mostly on the whole time to allow for things like voice controls and marketing crap.


    Finally, the two ''broken bullshit'' powers:


    Spatial Cognition- In terms of an individual power, this was... not great. I mean, don''t get me wrong, it has a ton of various uses, but it''s pretty much just the top-tier of spatial awareness. On it''s own, it had uses, but it was low E-tier. Hook that power to something like the teleportation, and scent ability, and it got way more OP. With teleportation, absolute spatial awareness was a fundamental concept of the ability, to be able to gauge the exact distance you were porting over and readjust on the fly. With scent, I could fully determine direction and distance of the scent trail. The limit was only perception.


    Sensimotor Synchrony- Oh... fuck this power. This is insane hooked into the other abilities. Okay, so as an isolated power, its only function was to remove the "lag time" between thought and action. Like, if you wanted to fire a gun, your brain has the thought to put your hand to the grip, the thought to wrap your fingers, the thought to unclip the strap holding it, the thought to draw it, the thoughts around aiming, and the thought to squeeze the trigger. Reaction speed increases by leaps and bounds, since you can literally now move at the speed of thought, cutting out the intermediary steps of the process. It had combat applications, but without other powers to feed off of, it was mostly a defensive measure. Attached to other powers, it was a broad spectrum boost to everything. Instantly lock on scent, instant boost on agility, increased manipulative control of the tendrils, and I''d directly seen its use with the teleportation and spatial awareness abilities.


    Any of the individual abilities were very limited in scope of power, either directly, or by the limitations of the ability, but as a whole, they''d turned Reaver into a killing machine. There was another issue, however, a bit more minor, but it did suck a bit- While I could get better at using the powers, they didn''t actually interact with my 1%, since they were an outside force operating through me. I was essentially just the vessel being used by Reaver to be able to access the powers.


    The H.A.A. wanted me to hand Reaver over for destruction, and I did get it at a certain level, but Reaver''s alive in its way. It thinks, it feels, and its sins were not its own. It was never given an understanding of any version of proper morals and ethics, and did what it thought it was supposed to do. Just like if Princess were raised in a dog fighting ring, Reaver only knew war, only knew fighting. I''m... I''m not okay with the concept of killing it.


    There was more to it, though. Reaver had referenced the ancient Heros of Greek and Roman times. For a moment, I considered something: It knew enough about what powers were to absorb them. That wasn''t a fluke ability as far as I could tell. That would state that there were enhanced in the life and times of Rome and Greece, because why make a function for a thing that doesn''t exist? It would be like the Romans building anti-aircraft weaponry. If there''s no aircraft, there''s no reason for the weapons to fight it. It was magical in nature, and that stated there was magic in those times, enough to make Reaver. So where had all the magic and powers been the past thousand years or so?


    This put me on a different track: Technopathy. It was an odd power that could only be relevant in the digital era. If powers were attached to something so ancient, why was there a power like this? It was so dated to modern times that it would''ve been barely functional until about the late 1990s when digital started becoming more commonplace. I got a sinking feeling as the 1% kicked up the theory that there was something behind all of this, back then, and the last ten years. Something was coming, and I had no way to prepare for it. I couldn''t even really tell it to others, because every iteration of the explanation sounded like I was getting ready to start making a survival bunker and breaking out the tinfoil.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    As to Reaver itself, it didn''t really have reliable information outside of its users'' personal perspectives. It had simply taken everything they thought and felt as the absolute truth of the world. While I could establish an essential chain of custody of it, Reaver itself didn''t have much in the way of provable evidence of anything. Living to thirty in the Dark Ages of Europe was, in itself, not as simple as now, and Reaver had been in the hands of violent men and women, who had an even higher propensity to die before that line, and if no one was holding it, Reaver had no perception of anything, so there were big gaps. Reaver did have names, however, so I wrote those down, sending them off to PSU''s history department, since the university was right in downtown. I could look it up myself, but that would mean a lot of time having to learn a ton of different history, spread across centuries, with random twists and turns. Yeah, I could do it, but I would have to divert off of what I was doing in the here and now.


    Okay, let''s get to work. We had an office now... not a ton of employees, but we had people. We listed Darryl, Brad, and Aimee as interns, paid interns, but interns. They wouldn''t be able to help much with school on and the whole ''child labor'' issue, but it kept them in the flow of things, and as a secondary point, it gave them something to put on college admissions forms and essays. They were put over to the game development side of things, since that was mostly safe as far as laws were concerned on the matter. I was also working in game development amongst other things, and with technopathy now a thing for me, I decided the best thing to do was, in fact, learn every coding language currently in use. JavaScript first, followed up by HTML/CSS, the top two most used languages that existed.


    Fred was being trained to help set up the non-profit arm, acting as a community liaison with the homeless of the city. They knew him, at least somewhat, and people could tell the difference between someone like Fred trying to help them, who knew the real struggle, and someone like me, who might mean well, but had never gone hungry, had never had to convert a bus stop into a temporary shelter. Dad was working as the head of the real estate arm, since that was closest to his area of expertise, while Brad''s Mo- Susan worked as the line of communication between us all. She was doing a lot, and I felt a bit guilty about that, so my tiramisu production went up.


    I was sitting in my office- That would take some adjustment- with three computers. One was a laptop, so I could work on the go, then a gaming rig that I was using to do coding, and finally, the Bloomberg Terminal. Once Dad had understood what I could achieve with stock trading, this had been his first goal. From this single terminal, I could monitor every market, newsgroup, and industry in the world in real time, and it gave real-time updates on basically anything that could affect the markets. I did have to get used to the three-screen setup of it, but I mean, I''d been essentially doing that with doing livestreams on video games, so I was at least a third of the way to mastery. I couldn''t code yet with the technopathy, but just the ability to communicate with the computer allowed me an insane capacity for analyzing the information contained in the terminal display, and with my Syncing ability attached, I could execute trades instantaneously as soon as soon as I needed to, far faster than simple clicking and typing. For its part, Reaver found the whole thing fascinating, advancing its learning of the world and people by leaps and bounds, balanced by my desire to help.


    I realized quickly that I''m fucking dangerous. Yeah, sure, I could be a badass in a fight, I''d gotten right with that point, but in an arena that was entirely based on your ability to research, respond mentally and immediately, I actively affect trade on a global level if I just decide to. I wasn''t kidding about the traders getting antsy about short-selling. In studying, I realized how fucked the global trade markets were, mainly through two specific problems: Short-selling, and Stock Buybacks. Shorting stocks is a racket: You borrow someone else''s stock shares for a specified length of time by contract, sell them to drive down the stock price, and then buy them back at the lower share price, passing them back to the guy you borrowed them from in the first place, and pocketing the difference.


    It should have been considered market manipulation, and in fact, had been until the 80s. The point of stock investing was to invest in companies with the idea of seeing the stock improve over time. Shorting stock was the opposite, a naked attempt to drive the stock under, and profit on misery. So yeah, fuck those guys. It didn''t even take all that long to get the traders to back off it, because stock traders only did it because it generally worked. By buying stock in shorted companies, I could drive up the price up, while getting a legitimate stake in multiple companies. This crashed the short-selling because once the time limit is up, you have to buy back the stocks, regardless of price. So yeah, if the price per share is higher than you sold it at, you''re gonna need to pony up the dough, Bucky.


    All the information I was using to do this was publicly traded information, it wasn''t a secret. And calling it market manipulation wasn''t exactly a great direction either, because if you did call for it, you would have to prove that it was manipulation. From there, you really opened yourself up- For one, you had to admit rather publicly that your entire trading group got clowned by a fourteen-year-old boy who was downing Nesquik at the time, and in trading society, you might as well slit your own throat. Then, there''s the counter problem: You couldn''t accuse me of market manipulation, without me having the open shot to counter that it''s you doing the manipulating. In fact, that was part of the plan, to pursue it so hard that either they tapped out on short-selling entirely, and made regulations against it themselves, or decided to come after me about it, and take it to a court, where I could try and force regulations against it that way. Side note: The companies that are being shorted love me.


    Stock Buybacks were a whole other thing, a really detestable practice, where essentially, you beef up your stock price ahead of earnings reports in order to make it look like your company is doing better numbers than it is, and could even make it look like the company was actually prosperous while being fundamentally fucked. At one time, it was simply a practice to remove dilution of your stock, beefing up your company''s individual stock price per share, and that would translated to getting higher payouts per stock holder on dividends. That time was gone, and for a lot of companies it was being used to make the company look more solvent than they were. Countering was pretty easy, actually. All you had to do was the following: Get enough stock in the company to get a quarterly earnings report (They''re required to give it to you as an investor), find the information they buried knowing that their investors wouldn''t fully read giant document made of legalese, and then just make sure all of them found out about it, that their stock prices were artificial, and could plummet at any moment, for the company to then re-sell the bought stock to post a "profit" on the next report.


    Think the federal government''s coming for your fiddly bits? Wait til you see the investors in your company realize you''ve been playing them in a financial shell game for several years. The government''ll fuss at you and maybe make you pay some money. The investors, however, are out for blood. But hey, we got enough for the mall, and... huh, wait, did I...


    Well fuck, I own a small solar company now. RIGHT, they were shorted out to the nines, so I''d managed to buy up like 80% of the stock as investors dumped out to get out of the damage pad. Gonna have to figure out what to do with that. Right now, I gotta flood the Oregon Food Bank with enough money to feed everyone surf n'' turf for a month, and more importantly, Aimee''s got new jeans that she says I need to check out.

 Part 23

    One of my commenters mentioned something. It was just a random one-off comment, but it was just one of those non-sequiturs that oddly make you think. In response to my sudden run of capital gains, they were surprised there wasn''t any sort of regulation of powers. It gave me pause, and as is the usual thing when I have questions, I decided to look it up. Outside of explicit regulations pertaining to working with/for the H.A.A., there was surprisingly little regulation of anything super-related- in the U.S., at least. Yeah, invading minds with psychic abilities was out, but that... was about it. I mean, in ten years, no one had actively created any significant regulations concerning us outside of the H.A.A.. How the fuck does that even work? I had to get a license to catch fish, but not even traffic regulations for speedsters? The FAA had nothing to say about supers with sub- or super-sonic flight?


    So, I did some more digging, and I got pretty pissed. So, at fourteen, you get enrolled in the academy, to learn to control your powers and abilities and get the education for eventual work with the H.A.A.. After that, supers immediately joined the H.A.A., and start their careers under them, or like Anna, they go to college for a more specific degree, then work for the H.A.A. in one capacity or another. Here''s the part that got me: Contracts. People had talked about the things that child actors went through, there was a whole ass documentary on it, but the whole thing with supers was under a shroud... Until I found the contracts for Blacklash. She was the one who''d held the black tendril ability until Reaver killed her. After her death, Blacklash''s wife found the old copies of the contracts and posted them online. They were almost immediately taken down, but it''s the internet, the difference between immediately and almost immediately was a wider gulf than a lot of people realized.


    Nothing came up on a reverse Google image search, but I didn''t stop there. I kept rooting through the internet, and no reputable site had anything. It had been online, and then all traces of it seemed to vanish from the world. This is more or less when I backed it up, and using a VPN, went off-road. I needed the information, so I did what it took to get there, reaching out with my technopathy, and sifting through, with a clear goal, I saw it, and printed out all of the documents.


    A nearly three hundred-page NDA agreement, and then as I was looking over the contract itself, I started to see a pattern in the wording. I looked up similar wording going through a legal site and got directed to a site that covered legality for child actors and other celebrities who were minors. The contract I would have entered into would have been like this, specifically sculpted, including an absolutely insane morals clause. Like, I''m a Boy Scout, I do a lot of charitable work, and I''m pretty sure I violated a few of these now. The NDAs essentially had the same weight as slipping classified information to China and could be treated as an act of domestic terrorism, they were literally worded to completely annihilate not only the enhanced individual''s life, but it would burn their family down around them as well, since it would be the parents that signed it. Then you spend four years at their academy under the morality clause, and other stipulations, and at eighteen, you''re given the bill that''s been accumulating the whole time, and you''re given more paperwork for contract work through the H.A.A.. The tuition price of the academy? Only around a quarter million for four years, in bankruptcy-proof debt akin to current college loans, before you factor in the ones like Anna who then went to college.


    Violated the morality clause? Huge fines, which got tacked onto your debt, the lowest of which, for point of example, was $10,000 for "conduct unbecoming an empowered individual". Decide to fuck off right at eighteen? Well, sure you can, just give us back the quart-mil in tuition, and if you don''t, we''ll just deduct it from your every paycheck before you ever see the money. International treaties had been established to stop countries from poaching other nations'' supers (No one wanted to compete with U.S.''s wallet), so regardless of where you went in the world, you were still screwed, since you couldn''t get work there, and your home country was still owed their money. The few countries that you might be able to work something out in were not the sorts of places you wanted to be.


    The adult contracts? Much like military service, they included abridgments of Constitutional rights, such as Free Speech and privacy (The right that made psychically pulling information from your mind illegal), and you couldn''t be charged on crimes in a normal court, but a special one, similar to a Court Martial from the military. The NDAs got refreshed as well, this time with steeper fines and penalties for breaking it. All fines would be added to the "loan" balance, so nothing came out of pocket, but the interest on that stacked up. The kids who joined the academy would hit eighteen with a mortgage already, and a second one for college tuition. All in all, you would be over $400k in bankruptcy-proof debt by the time you had a degree.


    That was why they were so hard up to get me in the academy, to get that financial weight around my neck. It could be used to control. How many parents had been duped into this? Parents of the enhanced, if my parents'' reactions were to be used as a general gauge, were worried about their kid, and being sold this giant story about how great the academy was, and how awesome your life would be, with a guaranteed career as A Hero. Even when they considered me an F-Tier, the only one in existence, they''d been giving me the full-court press to join up, let alone someone like Crimson who had a higher tier power. Tim, the former ''owner'' of Reaver, was still in the psychiatric wing of OHSU. Two years under Reaver had taken its toll on him. I packed up the contracts and rolled out. Since I''d been the one who saved him from Reaver, the staff was generally well-disposed to letting me visit with him, and I''d been checking in when I could. He didn''t really talk that much, and I got it. I''d seen plenty of kids in school who got bullied that clammed up, and that was just the sort of low-level abuse. This? Yeah, I''d cry in a corner forever myself.


    He was watching a documentary in his room when I entered. It was on Egyptian myths and legends, "Hey Tim. I need your help with something."


    Tim nodded, "''K."


    I dropped the contracts on the small rolling table by his bed, "You familiar with these?"


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Tim''s eyes bugged out as soon as he saw them, "I''ll take that as a yes. Are they real?"


    He''d been to the academy, then gotten his graduate''s in archeology, then started work. If anyone knew these contracts, it was him. Flipping past the cover page, he saw the name and spoke, "Blacklash.... yeah."


    Time teared up, "I still... I can see her face... begging me... she has a daughter."


    I knelt down, and I could feel Reaver pulsing. It had been becoming more aware of all that it had done, who it had hurt, and its pulse soundlessly matched the sobs of Tim. I put a hand on his shoulder while I held my backpack in my right hand, "Hey, crying is good, and that stuff? It wasn''t you. It''s not your fault. I get it, Reaver tried to kill me, so I have a fairly unique vantage point on this one, but we can set at least some of this down right now. It''s not your fault. What happens to debt in the event of a hero''s death?"


    He sniffled, blew his nose on a napkin, and responded as he idly pretended to tie his shoes, shoes that had no laces in them, not looking up, "If they died while on duty, the debts are forgiven. They''re given a special burial in Arlington, too... but Blacklash isn''t there. Her wife, she..."


    "She released these. What happened to the debt?"


    He finally looked me directly in the eyes, "It fell on her. She was... ruined."


    I nodded and fished out a chocolate pudding cup for him. The nurses had pointed out he loved them. It was one of the only things here that he would eat immediately. I got up, and slung my backpack back up onto my shoulder, "Alright then. How about next time I bring a board game with me?"


    Tim followed my eyes with his, "What will you do?"


    I smiled, and raised my eyebrows, "Same thing I always do: Piss off the H.A.A.."


    I didn''t wait for a response, heading out. Outside, I took a moment to breathe, and felt the voice of Reaver from within: H.A.A. are the enemy?


    "In this they are, but no violence," The government might be slow in a myriad number of ways, but once it came to violence, they were unmatched.


    What could I do? I had the contracts, but what to do with them? I mean, contacting Anna was just dead out. If these were true, she was under them too. She would probably help, sure, but it could easily cost her everything, potentially cost her family everything. That was too much to ask, and her job was important, not just to me.


    Okay, putting it back out on the internet was a wash. They swept it away once and kept it buried, and no other super was going to go offside to help me. The supervillains were out because they both wouldn''t help and wouldn''t be taken seriously... Blacklash''s wife. I swung by Black Rock, grabbed a coffee, and sat over by the faux fireplace. How to find her... I texted Dad to tell him I''d be home later... I erased the message, and called him directly, "Hey Dad. Your old company: Did they employ a headhunter?"


    Headhunters, however, needed a name if they were trying to scoop someone specific. I combed back through old interviews. Blacklash had been a decently popular hero based out of Atlanta, Georgia, and as a black woman who openly identified as lesbian, she''d been in a ton of interviews. Watching them all chained together, there were some pretty cringe bits, like how, regardless of what was going on, pretty much every interview brought the questions back to her skin color and her sexuality. Less than 1% of interviews done by Blacklash lacked these two subjects. It had to have sucked for her, and I felt a little guilty myself. No one had asked me about anything like that, and even when I mentioned having a girlfriend, it wasn''t a major part of the interview, it was just an off-comment and the interview moved on. I couldn''t get bogged down on the facet, though. There were larger concerns, and all I needed was one of them, a time when she talked about what her wife did for a living. She wouldn''t give out a name, heroes were very wary of that stuff... with a notable exception. Looking around online, I got it, though I had to comb through rather a lot of false leads. Ironically, this was on YouTube as a reaction video. In the interview, she talked about her life, and the normalcy of things outside of being a hero, and mentioned her wife working in Human Resources for a non-profit. Okay, so we have a career path, and non-profit would generally state that she hadn''t been in it for the money. I checked the Atlanta obituaries the week of Blacklash''s death. Wrong age, wrong age, wrong gen... HAAHAA! It took a while, and I''d had to search through multiple papers, but I found it. She was the right race, gender, and age, and the article included that she was survived by her wife, Beth, and daughter, Marie.


    From there, I cross-referenced the names involved and looked up for a second to see I was about six large white chocolate peppermint mochas in. Well, I''m gonna need a seventh. Secure in my continuing drip of caffeine, I pressed on. Okay, so we had a name, a career, the city, and it''s a non-profit. I looked up non-profit groups in Atlanta, then cross-referenced with the details I already had... and BOOM! goes the creeper!


    Beth was working for a senior-living group, and had been there for almost four years, starting as a volunteer in college! YES! She was now the Human Resources director. I called Dad, he called the headhunter, and the headhunter called Beth to arrange a good time for an interview. Me and Dad would fly out Sunday night, do the interview on Monday, and then Dad wanted to rent a car, and wanted to go to some cafe in Louisiana to get doughnuts. Alright, frickin'' crazy, but let''s do it.


    We booked business-class tickets to Atlanta, set up the rental car, and generally got our stuff together over the next couple of days. We would be meeting Beth for lunch, and Dad would mainly conduct the interview, but since I was running the show, my being there was important. The headhunter sent us her LinkedIn, and it looked like she was looking for work. I mean, honest truth, we need a proper human resources lead anyway. The employee counts were going a bit nuts.


    Aimee insisted that, since I would be missing another basketball game, we needed to go shopping on Saturday, and I would get her a present. It seemed vaguely reasonable, and I mean, getting her something nice to wear wouldn''t be such a bad experience. I was a little perplexed when she steered away from the clothing section, then past sporting goods, and ended up in the lawn & garden section. She seemed to know where she was going, so I just kinda tagged along, until she came to a spot and my head went to the side: A hammock. She did this to get... a hammock, "Um, this won''t fit over at your apartment. Not with the frame."


    She scoffed, "No silly. it''s for your backyard."


    Okay then, apparently I''m getting her a hammock for my house. I deeply didn''t get the point here, but it was clearly amusing her, which was the current point. We got the hammock, and some drinks, and on back home. I got the hammock set up, and looked over it, "Behold, the hammock, in all its glory."


    She giggled a bit, "Well, go ahead, get in the hammock!"


    I shook my head. This was just an odd direction for this to go in. I got myself situated in the hammock, "It''s ni-"


    Aimee climbed into the hammock, laying down on top of me so her head was on my chest, and her feet dangled over the end. Oh, yeah, I get the advantages of the hammock now.

 Part 24

    The problem is evidence. Yes, I had Blacklash''s contracts, and if it went well, Beth, but that was sort of the end of my ability to prove things. Tim had come forward to me, but he was in a mental hospital, so getting his testimony blocked or tossed was a problem point on my end. The technical law states that he can still give testimony, but the difference between what is technical and what actually is the case in front of a jury isn''t a small gap. People had been convicted on little to no evidence before, wrong evidence, biased juries, judges, and under-funded public defenders. The reverse was also certainly true, that people who had committed the crimes they were accused of got let off the hook. If it were like it was supposed to be, there wouldn''t be all these various pro-bono legal groups out there around the globe. Things don''t exist within a society that don''t have a reason to exist within society, regardless of whether that reason is right or wrong.


    This involved the federal government, which would run any proceeding, and I couldn''t just haphazardly jump around the internet looking for whatever because there''s no way they''re not looking for keyword searches. Individual clauses in a contract? That''s essentially fine, even lawyers do that because, unlike what law shows would have you believe, lawyers don''t really just know every clause of a contract and what it specifically means. They have paralegals that help research things like precedent, procedures, and more, as well as searching themselves. They''re still experts, don''t get me wrong, and they have to do a ton of work to get there, but there are limits, man... well, for them. Me, less so.


    Getting Beth with us was one key aspect since she could act as a witness to finding the contracts and what they contained, but this was a government issue. One contract and one person wasn''t going to be anywhere near enough to move the needle. I needed more, but getting a subpoena wasn''t looking great as an option with the contracts being considered so highly classified. The oldest heroes currently in the game were around twenty-four years old, such as Anna, who''d had time to go to college. Beth and Blacklash got married right as Beth was finishing college, and Blacklash had died at twenty-two years old. As I thought about it, it made sense it hadn''t been worked out yet. Most people didn''t understand the first thing about the actual contracts, since the heroes themselves were getting contracted at the start of high school, and the vast majority of parents weren''t lawyers themselves. Plenty of kids were coming out of college with massive debts because they didn''t understand how the loans worked until after they finished school, and had no wealth of experience to understand.


    The H.A.A. offered free legal services for starting enhanced, and most of the country couldn''t afford a $500 emergency, so they wouldn''t have the necessary funds or time to devote to searching for a lawyer outside the system. Groups like the ACLU could help, but again, if I pop off early, if I don''t get enough evidence to force the issue, then the government can drag this out pretty much as long as it wants, and nothing changes. I needed more evidence. Maybe Blacklash''s old team? The problem there was they weren''t a known quantity, so I wasn''t precisely sure how to approach them. I''d need to think about it more and figure out how to approach them.


    Dad ate his way through Atlanta. Fried catfish, sweet tea, fried chicken, peach cobbler, it was like he was trying to hit every section of a buffet right before closing. I was sworn to secrecy since Mom was insistent on him eating healthy. I decided to play along in my own way, "You will owe me for this discretion, and one day, I will collect on this debt that you have incurred" in my best mob boss voice.


    I texted ahead of the meeting, "Hi Beth, this is Marcus, and I just want to confirm the interview for today and to ask about where the best place to go have lunch is since we''re new to... Well, anywhere not the West Coast."


    A few minutes later, Beth texted back, confirming the interview, and gave me the name of a place: Twisted Soul Cookhouse & Pours, which on looking, seemed like it had a pretty interesting menu. I let Dad know, and we drove on over. Being Portlanders, the concept that Dad was having a local beer during lunch wasn''t really uncommon. Half the businesses in Portland fell under the heading, "[X]... and a bar". No seriously, wanna get used records and a drink? Bar Carlo. Picked up the newest Magic The Gathering release? Grab a drink at Guardian Games. Paddleboat river tour? BrewBargePDX. There was the Barcade Ground Kontrol, the list went on and on, and if it didn''t contain a bar directly, there was a place within about a block of it, whether bar or food truck.


    The place was nice, and as we got settled in, Dad broke out his laptop, and I had my papers with me. Beth signaled that she was there, and I waved to her as she stepped inside. She waved back, "Hi, y''all must be related. I''m Beth, welcome to Atlanta."


    We stood as she walked up, there were handshakes all around, and we had a seat. I''d place Beth at about twenty-five. I didn''t say much at first, letting Dad take point on the interview after we placed orders, "So Beth, McKenna Solutions is looking to hire on, specifically, we''re looking for someone to head up our Human Resources division for our non-profit work. Have you had a chance to look over the information I sent you?"


    She passed my dad a couple of pieces of paper, which I figured were her CV. I focused on eating and getting a read on her. She seemed happy enough, but there was that slight twinge of something, a sadness and weariness. She was a young woman who''d been the wife of a super who had died in action, the director of HR at a very young age for an underfunded non-profit group, and now a single mother. It wasn''t hard to imagine where those traits had come from. Dad went through the usual interview process, asking questions about whether she was willing to commit to the move, and how long she would need. He went over the salary, and benefits, and listed some good schools, but while she was answering capably, I did notice her eyes kept drifting slightly. Subtly, she kept glancing at my right arm. I''d brought Reaver with me, although it had objected somewhat vigorously at having to be in checked bags. I had to explain that trying to walk through airport metal detectors was going to be a problem if I was wearing armor, "Ms. Beth, did you want to see it, or is this making you uncomfortable?"


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Reaver was under the sleeve, and normally, I wouldn''t have brought it to meet her, but at the same time, I was still sort of confirming a number of things. Most people didn''t have much reaction to Reaver if they even saw it. I wore a lot of long-sleeved shirts, just like now, so you had to know it was there. Also, if she was going to be working with us, I was kind of inextricably linked to Reaver for the moment, and it was best gotten out of the way. Beth took a moment, "Can you... make it do the tendrils?"


    I didn''t want to make a scene, so I brought the tendrils out a short ways, just enough for her to see them. Beth''s breath stuttered, and I retracted them, "I''m sorry. I.. don''t understand how much this must have hurt you, but I know it has to hurt."


    "Yeah... it does, but it''s good, too. I reckon that means that something of her time as a hero is still with us. Just, make sure it matters," She teared up a slight bit, but got it under control. She''d had time with the pain, and while it did still hurt, she''d been moving forward for a while.


    I looked at my dad, and he gave me the nod, "Beth, we''re undertaking a project to fix the homelessness situation in Portland, my hometown. The job is fully legitimate, and from what we''ve already seen, the interview is mostly a formality. I didn''t go to the academy, and I don''t work with or for the H.A.A.-"


    On H.A.A., her eyes narrowed, and the tears dead stopped, real rage behind her eyes. I''d hit the sore spot, but there wasn''t a way around the talk, "I did that because I didn''t really want superpowers, I didn''t want to be a hero, and I still don''t, at least not in the way they mean it. I want to use my ability to help, but, video evidence to the contrary, I don''t like fighting. I found the contracts, and I need to confirm if they''re real."


    I pulled the stack of papers out of my backpack and passed them to her. She looked over them, and nodded, "Yeah, this is it, well, a copy at least. I''ve still got the originals."


    Originals would be better than the copies I''d printed out, "Look, right now, I''ve got this, your story, and one guy who was trapped under Reaver for two years, and he''s got pretty severe trauma from it."


    "Jesus," She stared at the papers in front of her, "Yeah, my wife kept a journal on her computer. Mostly just general life and superhero stuff, but she did talk about stuff like the morality clause and whatnot. It''s not much, and I swear I tried-" She broke off as she fought down a sob.


    I nodded, "I wouldn''t even know about this if I hadn''t searched for it, and if you hadn''t posted it online, I wouldn''t have thought anything of it. Now that I''ve seen it... this is wrong. I can''t just leave it like this, but as long as you''re being held to the contracts, it puts things in a bind. I know you''ve got no real reason to trust me, but I need a full accounting of everything that she still owes to the H.A.A., so I can pay it off. I''m doing that whether you want to help us or not."


    She just sat there for a moment, blinking, "I don''t understand... why you care?"


    I laughed, and I knew she wouldn''t get the reference, but it was too good to pass up, "Because somebody should!"


    Dad cut in, "Don''t look at me. He gets that shit from his mother!"


    She looked at the table for a moment, struggling to remember something, and broke out into laughter, and she was tearing up again, "Oh my God, Unlimited Blade Works, right? Jenna loved that series!"


    Okay, or maybe she will get the reference. Dad glanced at me, "Anime?"


    I nodded, smiling, "Yeah, it''s a great anime. She watched?"


    The server came by, dropping off food as Beth kept going, "She had the Crunchyroll. God, Jenna watched the worst stuff on there. I mean, don''t get me wrong or nothin'', she had a bunch that were really great, but the other end- Good God in his highchair, they were awful!"


    We were all laughing now, though Dad wasn''t quite with us on the anime thing, "Yeah, me and my buddy call it ADD- Anime Dumpster Diving. We find the stuff that''s so terrible, it wraps right back around to being awesome, cause like, whole teams of people had to get it approved at every stage of development. There were animators, voice actors, writers, a whole board of professionals, and everyone just somehow kept going, ''yeah, that''s the stuff''."


    We had lunch, and Beth and Dad talked more. I got distracted texting with Aimee for a bit. I''d been sending her pictures of Atlanta, and she was talking about how her and her friends were going out to a movie. Her dad was acting as a chaperone, and I felt for him. I love Aimee, but her friends could be a lot, especially as a grou-


    I love Aimee... I just sort of stopped thinking when that caught up with me. I missed the rest of the time there, and we were on the road again before I got snapped out of it by Dad thumping my ear, "You there?!"


    I shook my head, to see we were heading south out of Atlanta, "Uh, not as much as I''d have liked. What''d I miss?"


    He shook his head, "Well, it''d be nice if I had directions, for one."


    Oh, right, so I hopped on the phone and got directions going. A little bit later, Dad nudged at me, "So, what''s got you so distracted? And will it involve this car getting wrecked?"


    I chuckled, "Nah, it''s... it isn''t superhero stuff. I just... I''m in love with Aimee."


    A slow nod and Dad changed lanes in time with the directions from my phone, "Ah, finally realized that did you?"


    I blinked repeatedly, "You knew?! I didn''t even know!"


    He snorted a bit, "Kid, I love ya, but it''s so obvious to anyone that''s not you and Aimee. You two get near each other, and it''s like... you have your own gravity. Pass me a Slim Jim, would you?"


    I passed him the Slim Jim, "But like, how do I know if she loves me back?"


    He was having too much fun with this, "You don''t! Right up until you say it, and she says it, it''s all up in the air. And no, it doesn''t get less scary. It means being vulnerable, and that''s always going to be scary. You weren''t afraid of Reaver, you''re not afraid to fight the H.A.A., but this? Oh, we all get scared, just like I was scared when I said it to your mom for the first time."


    He didn''t say anything else really until he asked me to find a Super 8 Motel, and we pulled off for the night. Dad turned in early, and I hung out on the balcony, mustering up the courage to call her. I felt the Sync power kick in, Reaver making the adjustment to push my thought into action, "We''re gonna talk about that one late- Hey, Aimee. Uh, how''d the game go?"


    "Oh, it hasn''t started yet. I loved the pictures! Georgia looks so beautiful. Hey, I can''t talk long, Coach is rounding everyone up," She said, speaking up as the sound of people in the background intensified.


    "Uh, yeah, alright... Um, Aimee?" Why was this so hard?


    "Yes?"


    "I love you." I was looking up at the night sky, just praying I''d hear it back.


    There was silence for a moment, and then, "I know."


    And click, she hung up. I just stared at the phone for a moment. That was... I don''t know what that- Wait... Did that woman just Han Solo me?!

 Part 25

    We got to New Orleans easily enough, outside of various spots of traffic. The city is lovely, and poking around online, I found us a place, the Palace d''Armes, a nice little courtyard hotel in the French Quarter of the city. I wasn''t really sure what that all meant, but it was there. Dad crashed out almost immediately, which, after being the only driver in the car the whole way, I totally got.


    I, however, had spent the entire time cooped up in the car and wanted to stretch my legs. With not a whole lot of planning, I ended up over on Bourbon Street. The feeling here was different even on just a personal level. I''d become used to everyone knowing who I was in Portland, but here, supers were a more known quantity, they had a regular team, so while I did get recognized, it wasn''t anywhere near like it was back home, which was nice. Dad had mentioned a cafe here, so I sort of started in that direction but got distracted. There''s a lot of food here, so I ended up sort of snacking my way through the French Quarter. True, I couldn''t take advantage of all that Bourbon Street had to offer, being rather distinctly too young to drink, but it was quite lovely.


    Much as it''s called the French Quarter, I noticed that a lot of the buildings were more Spanish construction, having homes built around a central courtyard. I liked the architecture and sent along pics to Aimee and the family on the text chain. Mom kicked up a slight fuss at me wandering around New Orleans by myself, to which Mackenzie asked the question about what Dad was going to do if it was something I couldn''t handle. I told Mom that if anything got hairy, I could just teleport out immediately as fast as thought, and between me and Mackenzie, Mom seemed mollified. On with the tour!


    I did finally make it to that cafe Dad had been raving about. He''d mentioned the doughnuts some half-dozen times, but I''d have felt bad if I went in first and got one. He had not, however, mentioned anything about coffee, and in retrospect, that''s sort of criminal on his part. Coffee is big in Portland, but to my knowledge, we didn''t have anything like this. Not that our coffee is bad or anything, but it''s.... y''know, regular coffee. The coffee they made here at... Cafe du Monde- I''d have to check pronunciation- was an absolute treasure, and I put it on the list of things I needed to learn to make it back home. It wasn''t tourist season at this point, and a warm Tuesday afternoon in late October, so getting a quick minute here or there to talk with cooks wasn''t terribly difficult. I got some helpful pointers, and every one of them seemed to be very insistent that I need to be aggressive with seasoning.


    This wonderful low-key afternoon would get interrupted pretty hard as I was sitting at an outdoor table, reading on my tablet, coffee cup in hand, when I heard a voice growl out, "No!"


    People started to scream as I looked up to see a man in his mid-twenties growing in height and size, clothing tearing, hulking into a behemoth, "You won''t take me in!"


    His accent was really deep, and it took me a moment to register, but register it I did, "What? I''m not- Shit!"


    Reaver ported me before he punched through the table and chair I''d been resting comfortably in. I was to his back now, "I''m not a-"


    He wasn''t listening, flinging the broken table at me, before turning to charge. Fuck. My coffee was still in my hand, still holding it and the tablet when I changed locations. Thank God, tablets get pricy, "I don''t want to fight you!"


    He... didn''t care, and I ported again back behind him as pavement stone cracked where I''d been standing. He was incredibly strong, and from what I was seeing, a possible D-Tier. Unfortunately, his powers and my powers had an issue. As long as I knew he was coming, I could just keep porting around. The other side of it wasn''t great, though. I had no idea what this guy''s limit was, and it might not be packed, but there were still a lot of people here. I sighed, I wasn''t getting out of this, and ported again as he charged through where I was, porting onto a balcony for distance. I downed the rest of my coffee as the guy down below bellowed, "Get back here and fight me!"


    I laid down my tablet and the coffee cup on the balcony. Time for some testing. I ported back to him, "Hey! ''Roid Rage!"


    Why do I say things? I succeeded in kicking him in the head in the air, and he fell back a step... from surprise at the hit, and nothing else. Great, strength and toughness to back it up, but if he went back at all from that, it wasn''t true invulnerability. I''d felt the give in the kick, he had been hit, and it stung him, that was just all it did.


    I ported again and continued getting hits in where I could, keeping him contained by porting all around him. With the agility boost, sync, and teleport, I could stay out of his way, and get small hits in. Hmm, he kept leaving his left side open. Mackenzie had a similar issue in her fighting, tending to favor swings and kicks on the right in her case. I focused, catching him multiple times in the same spot. It wouldn''t hurt him, but it was having an impact, and making him even angrier, and I could start to see a slight weakness on his left side. Enraged though, he brought both arms up- an opening. One last teleport behind him and I unleashed the black tendrils the moment I was ported, wrapping both hands. Being so strength-focused, he ripped forward as hard as he could, and instead of fighting the pull, I instead pulled with both arms and flattened my body out to propel myself faster. I felt the impact as my feet connected with the base of his skull, and he went down in a heap.


    He wouldn''t stay down, so while I had him, I let the tendrils out, tying hands and feet together behind his back. People cheered and clapped. Most had the sense to run off, but some few had whipped out cameras to watch the fight. He struggled, but now, the tendrils'' leverage was on him. He wouldn''t be able to break them, his own strength cut down by the position. Thank God we went to that Rodeo in St. Paul for Scouts last year. Certain in my hold, I looked around, "Hey, could someone call the cops? My hands are full!"


    The cops did arrive, along with a tall man with dark skin, who bowed with over-exaggerated grace as he came, his voice and accent both deep, "I see we decided to have some fun our first time in Nawlins, no?"


    "I was just trying to get some coffee, man," I was tired. Maintaining the hold on the tendrils did start to drain, and when his rage form had dissipated, I''d had to retighten the binding.


    The man laughed deeply, and stood up, "Is fine, bon temps. I''m Binder, and I''ll take it from here, child."


    As Binder enacted his powers, brilliant colored runes appeared, seizing around him, "It''s Marcus. You know this guy?"


    He shook his head, "No, sir. Dis one''s new to my city, but we get a lotta his type. Supers who are tryin'' t''dodge the law, and get themselves out on the Gulf.


    "You''ve done good here. You in the city long?"


    I released my tendrils as Binder brought the super to his feet, "Not really. Dad wanted to stop here to see the cafe."


    He nodded, still smiling, "Well when we''re done here, let me show you the city, as thanks for this."


    I nodded, got my things, and paid for another coffee, this one to go. I left a tip, and feeling a bit guilty, money to replace the table and chair. Binder was good to his word, and after he''d processed King- Really, he called himself King?- He stopped by our hotel and took us out on the town. Dad was a bit worried about the fight, but Binder explained that I''d handled it like a pro. In Portland, the H.A.A. had cussed me out for acting, but in New Orleans, the vibe was very different. Binder had given me the accolades for the capture and seemed more at ease with me having done underaged hero work. A sort of rolling, "It''s all good, cher" sentiment.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    For the first time, it really occurred to me that the individual conditions of supers were very different depending on where they were. It also turned out that they also varied by Tier. E-tier, such as myself, had a ton of restrictions on what we could do, while higher tiers tended to be less so. It made a certain sense, since really, what were you going to do to someone like Crimson or Anansi? Pushing them only turned them into an issue you couldn''t handle anyway.


    Binder was D-tier, his ability was able to capture multiple opponents at once, even strong ones like- I''m not calling him King, ''Roid Rage it is- ''Roid Rage. That guy was E-tier. Yeah, his strength and endurance were crazy, but he had to activate them, and couldn''t hold the form all that long. In form, he was D-tier, but again, limiters brought the ability back down. That seemed to be a recurring theme, that even if what you could do was powerful, if it had some obvious exploitable flaw to it, then it didn''t rate as high. This meant that the true D-tier powers were ones that didn''t have some drastic massive drawback to them, they were full up by an order of magnitude. My ability was different, since it continued improving, and was difficult to scale properly against other powers. Anansi could warp fate itself, Crimson could use magic to fly, fight, and just so many things, and I could learn just about anything. However, if I wanted to get out from under the absurd restrictions on me, I needed to start working on secondary abilities. Moving up in tier changed my view of the field.


    The rest of the drive back over the next few days was good, and I actually got in some things I needed. I did work on some merit badges, by this point submitting most of my community badges (I already have the service time, so it was mostly done there), physical ones like Athletics and Personal Fitness (I''ll just casually run a triathlon), and I caught up with Mr. Bethel. He was getting ready to head out on his regular hunting trip, which could help me snag at least half a dozen badges on the back of that. He was more than happy to have me along since his son wasn''t actually that much into it. Tom Bethel, his son, quietly sent me a thank you text that was written like I''d just gotten him off of death row.


    Portland H.A.A. did contact me about the "Battle of Cafe du Monde", and yeah, got chewed out again by John. I just eye-rolled my way through it, but they did have to admit I''d handled it well, keeping civilians out of the fight, and using dodges and restraints to capture the villain, keeping him held until legitimate authorities took over. I did also point out that I had tried to de-escalate things, but it just hadn''t worked. They did the adult, where despite the fact I''d had no choice, they treated it like I somehow should have known that I would get jumped by a dude outside while sitting around having coffee. Am I supposed to be a kid or a highly trained veteran of combat who maintains constant awareness? Pick a fuckin'' side!


    Aside from that, the trip was pretty fun. Got to go to Six Flags, picked up a whole mess of souvenirs for people back home, and texted links to love songs to Aimee. She mentioned another dance coming up, and the 1% kicked up something interesting: I liked dancing with her, but we could only really do that at school dances unless I thought of a way to set something up, "Hey Dad. What would you think about something like a nightclub, but for like, under 18 only?"


    Dad considered it for a moment, "Could work. Most businesses can, really, it''s just a matter of whether you can get the business to keep it going, and stay ahead of costs. You thinking of making one?"


    I nodded, "Yeah. One annoying thing is there really aren''t many places for us to go in Portland. Like, take Ground Kontrol for instance. It''d be a great place to hang out, but after 5, it turns into a bar, and we can''t be there. Kids my age don''t even get home til around 330-4 o''clock, so it''s not really a thing for us. D&B is cool, but it''s really expensive for most kids, and it''s really just games and food. I want a place that''s ours, y''know?"


    He nodded along, "I get it, but there''s a lot that goes into something like that. We can take a look at it, though. Right now, we''ve got the mall purchase coming up, so we do need to focus on that. On that front, there''s another dead mall up in Vancouver, so if this works out, we might look at doing that as well."


    There was a problem there, "Then we should buy it now."


    Dad looked over with a raised eyebrow, "We don''t even have the first one up and running yet. Why the rush?"


    "It''s... so like, basically, as soon as we prove this thing''s at all viable, there''s gonna be this whole rush of people trying to get in on the action, so I figure if we wait, then it''ll probably be gone before we can get there."


    He stayed silent for a bit, "I mean, that''s a big move, but if you''re determined, I''ll take a look at it."


    I nodded, and broke out my laptop, using the hotspot on my phone. I started looking up dead malls, and there were a lot. COVID had been the final bullet in a lot of struggling malls, but the death of malls had been coming for a long time, the lockdown and social distancing had just sped up the process. As we drove across Texas, I kept researching into it. Malls had started getting killed off by the presence of online ordering and had several other distinct issues. The main issue of having a reliable customer base, though, was circumvented by my plan to add residential to the equation of the mall.


    A whole other section of it, though, was the fault of short-sighted thinking on the side of the businesses in the malls. For many store owners, they''d taken the approach of cutting down staff to lower costs, but from what I could see, that had only managed to hurt them more in the long term. Customers had trouble getting questions answered because there was never anyone around to answer them, and the remaining employees were too tired from the extra work heaped on them to hold up proper customer service. So, people had turned to Amazon, while the stores tried to make all of their own online stores, but that again only undercut their own physical businesses. As well, with a lack of employees came a rise in shoplifting. I mean, it made perfect sense- Fewer people working meant less security, too. Shoplifters tended to hold off if they were being spoken to by employees since that could get them caught. That obstacle removed, it was just the natural thing for the shoplifting to get worse.


    The other side of it was that the general poverty situation had also contributed highly to a rise in theft and a decrease in sales. People were desperate, and if you push anyone into a desperate situation long enough, it''s bound to lead to worse actions. That had been proved with the Wal-Mart self-checkouts. Sure, most people would generally pay for their goods, but if you''re on shakier financial ground, you don''t get as many options to be the paragon of morals and ethics. At a certain point, survival trumps rules, whether you were stealing food to have it to eat, or a PS5 so you could sell it to make rent.


    Without creating paying jobs, alleviating homelessness would be a nearly insurmountable task. Sure, homelessness had a direct endpoint- Everyone has a home, and are thus, not homeless. Mission Accomplished! Not really, because there were a ton of limiters. Anna sent me a link to a TedTalk, on the subject of motivation. Apparently, it had been redone on YouTube by a group called RSAnimate, and to summarize, people had three needs for motivation:


    Autonomy. The ability to feel like they were making the choices in their life, that their life was their own.


    Self-Mastery: The feeling of getting better at whatever you''re doing, to know that you''re progressing.


    Purpose: A reason beyond the work itself. So a single dad working a drudge job could put forth that he was doing it for his children. A person working as a teacher was sculpting young minds or a stockbroker who was working to afford a better life.


    I thought about it for a bit, and the underpinnings of it were important. If I couldn''t provide these things, it would be far more difficult if not impossible to fix the damage. Another section of the video mentioned that money was only a motivator insofar as that you made enough that it wasn''t an obstacle. I couldn''t just provide housing, I had to remove the financial obstacle, and that meant creating jobs. Of course, the mall would employ a bunch of people, as would my company, but I was starting to realize we needed a much higher industrial base, a problem I''d already encountered in recreating Portland in Cities: Skylines. We had industry, sure, but jobs-to-residents was a problem. I needed some sort of business that sold things outside of the system of Portland, to bring money external to Portland into the city. There was Intel, Nike, and Amazon, but more could be done.


    Hmm... tech. I mean, I was already building a video game, and I owned a solar-power company now. I could relocate them to Portland, and use that, but there still needed to be more. I couldn''t do all of it on my own, or anywhere near it. I need networks, and connections that could help me navigate this, that could run these businesses separate from myself.

 Part 26

    Sigh... Jesus, this company needs an overhaul.... and an old priest, and a young priest. SolCo, for one, wasn''t the best name, to the point sure, but it didn''t exactly roll off the tongue well, and there were a ton of other more pressing problems. They were based in California, and since we were heading that way anyway, it was natural to go ahead and stop in. Like most tech startups, they''d gone to Silicon Valley... and made a right mess of the whole thing from day one.


    Let''s focus on the good parts first. The product is good, and it does have potential. Essentially, they worked out a new way to layer the crystals that would allow for far higher power gains and a new more efficient power battery to match it. All of their designs had been properly patented. As well, the staff was enthusiastic, and deeply believed in what they were doing.... and that''s it for the good parts.


    The facilities weren''t even close to ideal. There wasn''t any room to expand the facility, jammed in amongst multiple other businesses, so even if it took off, they would essentially be locked to a certain level of business, with no ability to step up. They''d been deeply screwed on the lease as well, and gotten chained into a longer lease to where they couldn''t really just upgrade facilities. The company''s valuation had been way too high, and while that is good in some ways, it was way too much, with VC investors expecting frankly insane degrees of return on investment, and that was the main part that preceded the stock shorting on such a massive scale, as they saw what way the wind was blowing, and decided to get what profit they could on the way to cutting their losses. The exaggerated valuation had also gotten them screwed at practically every level of spending, facilities included, as the people selling to them saw them as a much larger entity, and got as much money as possible out of them. The management of the company was idealistic, but it held everything up, unwilling to compromise, and there was about one administrative position for every non-administrative position at this point. Not only was that inefficient, but the salaries attached to that were absurd, so to make a profit, they couldn''t compete against larger companies at all, being pricier and slower.


    You couldn''t run a McDonald''s like this, let alone a whole multi-million or billion-dollar enterprise. I mean, sweet mother of Christ, Portland Public Schools was a fundamentally more efficiently laid out bureaucracy than this, and they were screwed in their own way. If your private company is less efficiently laid out than a governmental department, you have fucked up in a special way. Their org chart looked like the meme conspiracy board from that one show. Despite my 1%, I couldn''t understand what half of these positions even did... well, aside from getting in each other''s way.


    Then the stock itself. They''d put out too many shares, and while that could get you quick capital, unless you delivered, all you did was dilute your stock price and leave yourself deeply vulnerable. The people running the show had fully panicked, and made the situation worse at basically every turn.


    Raj, who was ''CEO'' of this, was a nice guy. Once he''d learned who I was, he hadn''t talked down to me, just explaining things as he would any other investor, and addressed me directly rather than my father. He took me through the facilities as they were, and introduced me to people. But nice, and good leader weren''t necessarily the same thing. It was good to listen to your subordinates, but for many of them, it was clear they didn''t have respect for him as the leader, like him as they might.


    Okay, let''s handle the problems in order. The VCs were a problem, and I didn''t want to have to deal with them. Fortunately, they were desperately trying to finish out their deal with the stocks, and the deadline for return was fast approaching. They had to cut a deal, so I cut them one: I would sell them back the stock at the original price they got it at, and in exchange, they would sever their ties with SolCo, and relinquish the stock shares back to me at the same point. The entire deal was rigged to make no money for anyone, but leave me with the stock. Really, they were only too happy to get out from under this whole thing and wanted to wash their hands of it, and I couldn''t blame them on that count. Much as shorting stocks is a horrible practice, they had their own investors to answer to, and for some, they couldn''t afford the raised price on any level. They were against the wall, and I was the only one offering them an out.


    Okay, VCs down, let''s work on the debt problem. They didn''t have an insane level of debt, but that actually would have been better for them in the given situation. Much as it''s nice to think that VCs are the superior option to loans, it just depends on the situation, who your VCs are, and a whole roster of things. I rounded up all the smaller debts, consolidating them into a single loan payment to a single bank, the same one I had my money in. They were only too happy to work with me, albeit through my dad, but the important point was that it was handled for the time being. It was like my 1% but in reverse. With multiple loans, the multiple payments and interests had stacked up far too quickly, required extra management, and generally just dragged down the entire enterprise for all involved.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Now the shitty part... I had to lay off people. I talked with Dad about it for a long time, but the truth was there was no saving most of these jobs. They were completely superfluous, and there wasn''t enough room for everyone. The secondary issue with this is that Raj would never let them go. They were like family to him, and his own nature worked against him. Brilliant guy, but he should''ve been the guy heading up the tech line, not running the company. It was a bit like Reaver in a way, in that Raj had been doing what he thought was the right thing to do, but ultimately, operating from an incredibly flawed mindset and the limitations of bad/incorrect information.


    Being smart doesn''t protect you from doing stupid things. From what I was seeing thus far, if you really wanted to see something get completely fucked, you needed a smart person. An idiot would run into a brick wall, go "Well that didn''t fuckin'' work!" and move on, but the smart person tries to envision how to further get past the brick wall. Depending on the degree of self-awareness and ego, the smart one could bring the whole wall down before they take a moment to realize that there was a door just around the corner, completely consumed in battering their way through the problem in front of them. The idiot, meanwhile, walked around the corner and took the door. Raj was really smart.


    I voted him out as CEO. It wasn''t difficult to do, but I hated it all the same. He''d founded this company and had dreams of what it could be, but reality was harsh here. He''d fundamentally screwed himself, and there was no other way out. Dad advised me to keep it as short as possible, both with the vote and with laying people off. It might sound more merciful to try and be kind, but the truth was, no one wanted to hear it when they were being let go, and even less so hear a bunch of what amounted to empty platitudes from their perspective. I set up severance packages, made sure benefits got extended for a bit, and made sure to have letters of recommendation for them.


    As to the vote, the reality was that I was the quorum. I held 80% control of the stocks, and Raj held another 10%. The final 10% were small investors, including some employees who had bought stock in the beginning. Even if every single person there voted to keep Raj, my vote outweighed them all, by a wide berth. I felt like an asshole, but Dad was there building me back up. This would lead to a better future for all involved. If I didn''t pull the trigger, I was condemning them to a slow and inexorable destruction. To quote Moneyball, "Would you rather take a bullet to the head, or two to the chest and bleed out?"


    I had to take a break at one point and threw up in the bathroom. Dad offered to handle it, but I refused outright. I had to learn, I had to get used to it, and my 1% would see that I got there. I just didn''t have the privilege of time to be a kid about this, not if I wanted my own ambitions to succeed. No matter how I looked at it, I would have to get a lot better at swimming with the sharks if I was going to navigate these waters. All well and good to want to be a good person, but at a certain point, you''re just massaging your own ego at the cost of others.


    With a more realistic outlay to admin, the final part: Moving the operation. Local prices were incredibly high, just on the reputation of Silicon Valley alone, to say nothing of the company getting taken for a ride on the lease. Coordinating with Fred and Susan back home, several properties in Portland filled our needs, and the one I ended up picking was a bit out of the way. There were two distinct advantages, the first of which was price, but that was less of a material concern than the second point: Space. It was a bit bigger than we actually needed, but it was out in an area behind PDX airport, with other industrial buildings. There was space, which would give us the space to grow the operation once it was moving, with the price being far more manageable.


    I installed Raj as the CTO, Chief Technology Officer, and started getting the move readied. Dad became CFO for now, in charge of the financials. It was more tiring than difficult. Employees for the most part were willing to go with it, and I did make sure to cover moving expenses. We lost some there, but that was just unavoidable. Like the rest, they were given severance and letters of recommendation. I didn''t fight to keep anyone, but I made sure those leaving weren''t going to be completely fucked by it. It was the best I could do at the moment, but I did make sure to give them my contact info in case things didn''t work out, and they rethought the move.


    Aimee tried texting me, but I just... I couldn''t right then. I sat in a drained-out pool at our hotel, idly bouncing a rubber ball, sitting in a fetal position. I''d known it would be hard, but there''s a difference between knowing and understanding. Dad tried, I had enough pizza to convince him I''d be okay, then promptly stopped eating. It felt like lead in my gut. I''d just stepped in and ripped away Raj''s dream, sacked people he cared about, and pretty much spent the last several days recounting his every misstep to him. It didn''t matter how polite I''d been about it, you could still see the pain it caused him, caused everyone. This is all so fucked.


    "HEY! You Marcus?!"


    I looked up, to see a man in his early to mid-twenties, wearing a three-piece suit, and holding a briefcase, "Can I help you with something?"


    He met me as I walked up out of the pool, taking a moment to steady myself. He had a lot more energy than me, catching me in an aggressive handshake, "I''m Miguel Suarez, and I''m your new finance guy!"

 Part 27

    "Here, take one."


    Miguel held out a beer to me as he came over with a tray of food, "Uh, dude, fourteen, remember?"


    "De nada. You beat two supervillains, founded three companies, and bought a fourth that you''re bringing back to life in the same calendar month. If you haven''t earned some cervaza, no one has," He shrugged, sitting down across from me.


    We''d gone out to a food truck by the beach for the meeting, on the premise that holding it in the hotel room was less than ideal, and Dad had hung back to check Miguel''s information. Dad hadn''t heard of Miguel when I approached him, but he wasn''t H.A.A., so I mean, unenhanced, there wasn''t an issue in hearing him out. Plus, there was something I liked about him. Hard to explain, but there was this sort of odd aura of trust to him, a feeling that he just had things in hand. I''d dealt with a lot of people, especially in the last few days, evaluating who to keep, who to let go... who to fire. Say the truth, coward. I''d seen so many people break down in the last few days, and I at least owed them the respect of not hiding it behind euphemisms.


    "You couldn''t have saved them, ese,'' He offered me the beer again, and I took it. It tasted wretched, but honestly, a part of me welcomed it. Miguel loosened his tie a little bit, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "I remember when my pops got laid off. Worked for the same company for twenty years, and then... boom! Gone. You think any of the guys who let him go let it tear them up like this?"


    He wasn''t wrong, but it didn''t make it better. Better to focus on something else, "Why throw in with me? I read your resume. You''ve got a BA in finance, with a minor in financial law, top of your class. You went to UCLA on an Eagle Scholarship, and you''ve got letters of recommendation from your internships and professors. You could do this anywhere, for anyone, so why me?"


    Miguel took a pull from his beer, "Cause you''re not them. Heck, you''re even still wearing a Scout hat. I had to stand there when Pops lost the home he''d built, and I couldn''t do a damned thing. I had to watch as he went from owning a home to being stuck in a cramped one-bed with Mom. They sleep in the living room, so my sister can have a room to herself."


    He teared up, "Dad worked construction his whole life, and now they''ve got him bagging groceries, and Mom goes around to his old construction yard to sell tamales. She has to smile in the faces of the guys who fired her husband every day so they can just scrape by! Meanwhile, I wear this suit, and I look at men and women who could have saved them with the change in their couch."


    He stopped, wiping at his eyes while I half-heartedly ate tacos, and when he came back to the conversation, he ran a hand through his hair, "So yeah, I want in. If there is a one percent chance that you can do it, that you can find a way to fix this mierda, then I have to try. It''s like you said one time, that you can''t just sit back, you can''t unsee it. There are so many people like me, like you, and we all just want something to believe in. Some chance that we can get better, so yeah, I''m in, whether you want me or not."


    I wanted to give him a shot, I truly did, but as I looked at the road in front of me, I saw it getting so much worse before it got better. I sighed, "Look, I''ve got the H.A.A. consistently up my ass, I''ve gotten into two supervillain fights, and I''m looking at a massive fight no matter where I look, and I have no idea if this even works. It can go down in flames, and if I fuck it up, I can make things a lot worse than they are already.


    "It''s gonna be an unending street fight, and when we get someone down, two more are gonna take their place. It won''t end, cause there are just too many, and the longer we last, the bigger the new guys are gonna be."


    Miguel, "Great. I''ll start now."


    He pulled a book out of his briefcase- The Art of War. I''d heard of it, of course. Technoblade had used quotes from it during The Potato Wars. I''d never read it before, however, "I''m not sure I really want to go to war."


    He smiled, and shook his head, "Ese, you''re already in the war, they just don''t know it yet."


    Depressingly, he was right. I took the book, and we exchanged information, then finished our meal. Miguel said he''d be in Portland within the week, and I got the impression he wasn''t kidding. I also got the impression he absolutely didn''t have the funds for that, so I Venmo''d him some cash to get himself to Portland, and let Dad know to set him up with at least a studio apartment. It definitely felt like Miguel would otherwise end up sleeping in his car.


    Talked with Dad, and he''d been able to talk to Miguel''s former Scoutmaster, confirming he was an Eagle Scout and fellow Order of the Arrow. The next day, we confirmed with UCLA his graduation status, and his class ranking. He was on the level. I read the book, and I started to get it. The biggest key was to break the will to fight me, to know myself and my enemies. I knew myself pretty well, but I didn''t really know who I was fighting. They were a very nebulous ''they'', and I would need to learn who I was actually going to be fighting for Portland if I wanted to find a way to step over them.


    I was completely sacked by the time I got back to Portland. I had enough time to shit, shower, and shave before my last Scout meeting before Camporee. Mom and Dad both thought I should skip out on the meeting, but I didn''t want to. Scouts was always a safe space for me, somewhere I could go and just be. Far from stress, it made me feel relaxed like I knew my place in a world around me that was changing too damned fast. I was in for a surprise, though, as Aimee and her dad were waiting in the parking lot of the church we had meetings at. I was thrilled to see her, but by the look on her Dad''s face, I was in trouble.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Aimee came directly up to me, and yeah, she was pissed, "What the hell? I haven''t heard from you in days!"


    I dropped my head, and pulled off my cover, "I''m sorry... I... was in a bad place. I-"


    She slapped my shoulder, "Idiot!"


    Aimee came forward, and hugged me tightly, "That''s when you need to talk more!"


    I just let her hold me there for a minute, until I got the five-minute warning from my watch, "Uh, not that I don''t love this, but I kinda have a scout meeting to run. Would you... wanna come in? We can talk after."


    She nodded, and she and her dad followed me inside, where the boys of the troop, on seeing me holding her hand acted like a bunch of teenage boys. Mr. Bethel snapped up three fingers quickly, and they did settle down, at which point I directed Aimee and her dad to where the parents and coffee were, while I broke off to the podium. We left for Camporee tomorrow after school let out, but as I looked around, I noticed an oddment, "I''m sorry, uh, do we have more boys than last week?"


    Sure enough, we''d gained nearly a twenty-five percent increase in the number of boys in the troop, I just hadn''t noticed it until now. At first, it had been one or two following the Reaver fight, but now I was starting to notice we had definitely gone up in membership. I''d just been so busy with other things, I hadn''t thought about it. Oh right, I did fight off a supervillain in a Boy Scout uniform.


    One of them was Brad, standing over by Darryl, who just shrugged at me, and I couldn''t delay the meeting for this, "Well then, welcome, and I''ll make sure to learn all your names in just a bit here. First order of business-"


    I had everyone go over supplies for tomorrow. I''d already known what we had and had replaced a lot of it. I really wanted better tents, though, and the chuck boxes pretty much just needed to be replaced. I had the materials, I just needed to get to work on them. The main point of the exercise, though, was to make sure that the boys themselves were taking active responsibility for the gear themselves, and not just trusting it out of hand. The patrols of the troop each put forward names for their individual patrols, and that took a bit since some had chosen names that were just silly, or purely because they sounded cool. Then I sketched patterns for the patrol flags, adding their creation to my list of things I needed to do.


    At the very least, this would get me finished up on a few different badges, such as woodworking and sewing. Mr. Bethel leaned into my ability, laying out a process to clear me on my hunting, fishing, fly fishing, backpacking, orienteering, archery, riflery, shotgun, as well as disability awareness badges, and, hunting ability willing, leatherworking. Aimee had been a bit shocked when she saw Mr. Bethel. I''d talked about him a lot, but hadn''t mentioned the fact that he looked like the lost lumberjack member of ZZ Top and that he was in a wheelchair. I''d never seen him out of the wheelchair, and he''d been involved with me in Scouts since Tigers. I just didn''t think about it until Aimee saw it. I knew that he''d used to work for a railroad company until his accident, but I''d never really asked, just picking up what the adults mentioned about it. He was just Mr. Bethel.


    I finished up the meeting, made sure the new kids got seen to, and then checked in with the adult leadership to make sure we were all set for Camporee on drivers and such. Everything was in order, or at least, it hadn''t gone horribly wrong yet, so I headed out. I got a lift home with Aimee and her dad, and sat in the back with Aimee, bringing her up to speed on the last few days. She didn''t bother telling me there wasn''t anything I could''ve done, I''d clearly had that speech several times, but she listened. When we got home, she kissed me, and after she left, I went straight to the garage.


    Yeah, I''m tired as shit, but it was mental and emotional exhaustion, not physical. I''d slept in the car, and I was too awake to try and sleep. Instead, I looked at the supplies in the garage and got started, chuck boxes first. The previous ones had been cheap plywood, and a lot of the hinges were rusted or broken. they''d also been measured wrong, so they didn''t really properly fit together, and the wood wasn''t properly treated, leading to warping. That shit ends now.


    I decided on cedar for the wood. For one, it was far more durable than the crappy plywood the previous ones had been made out of and didn''t warp in humid climates. Portland is a temperate rainforest, so yeah, humidity is a thing. It was also naturally an insect-repellant, which worked in the woods, and frankly, having a chuck box that actually smelled good when you opened her up was just nice to have, and it looked great. I set a camera up, laid out my materials, and went over every step of creation as I worked through it.


    I didn''t bother with paint, instead woodburning the troop numbers, patrol names, and insignias into the wood itself, then, once that was done, and everything was assembled, I applied a solid amount of clear coat to each, keeping the garage door open for ventilation, alongside wearing a mask. They looked great, and while they were setting, I uploaded the video I had and turned my attention to the next thing: tents. I wanted a ratio of one tent for every two boys and leaders, assuming 100% attendance.


    The tents we had were older, and pretty beaten up, and honestly, they hadn''t been great tents to start with. They were what we could afford as a small troop with a limited budget. Now, however, we could get some real tents. I got to work and Reaver assisted, reforming into tools as I needed them, using tendrils to grab items I needed, and Syncing me so I could work faster than even my 1% could allow for. I modeled the new tents after army tents, tents we could fully stand up and move around in, rather than being straight stuck to the ground. Even if it was pissing rain, we would be up off the ground and dry in the tents.


    I treated the canvas, ensuring it was as weatherproof as I could make it, and then got to work on cots and foundations, again using cedar. It was durable, it could put up with pretty regular abuse, and I could work them together so they could be broken down easier for transport. I spent the whole night working, finally crashing out somewhere around sunrise, but it felt good. As a final bit of outfitting, I lined up some cardboard boxes for the troop. I might not be able to participate in the challenges for the weekend, but damn it, we would look the part of champions.

 Part 28

    The Camporee went really well, if a bit of an initial clusterfuck. I got woken up by Princess licking my face, and demanding walks. I got up, and a bit bleary-eyed, made coffee. Wasn''t the same as New Orleans, but it would work for the moment, and I got washed up, changing into gear for the weekend, sneakers traded out for my hiking boots. Some messages from Dad, but nothing that required immediate attention. A ton of texts from Darryl about various stuff, and a message from Aimee to see if I could meet her before I left for the weekend. Easy enough to do.


    I got Princess her walk, and stopped off at Plaid to get some stuff, as well as a beef stick for her highness. Wait... Reaver had turned into tools last night. I''d been in deep focus while I''d been working, but as far as I''d known, it only turned into weapons. It had turned into various objects, and I hadn''t really paid attention to that at the moment. Reaver itself hadn''t known it could either, but when you came down it, it made more sense it wasn''t limited to weapons. Sure, weapons were useful, but a shield could protect life, and tools could build needed structures. Reaver had been constructed to save a failing empire, not necessarily to destroy its enemies. It had only taken the weapon forms based on its owners. With me, I didn''t need or want weapons, so it altered itself to what it saw I did need.


    It had interesting implications, but I didn''t really have time to screw around with it and work out the limit. I had other issues: A couple of drivers were going to run late for the pick-up at the church, and we needed to come up with a solution. Remembering who had which vehicles, I re-sorted kids and adults, and got something at least duct-taped together. The sleeping bags had been checked by the boys to see if they were there, but not if they were fully functional, and several boys were missing basic stuff like mess kits. Mr. Bethel was picking me up in his van, so I let them know I could replace what was needed, and just get them into the trailer.


    More hopeful, the tents and chuck boxes were ready to go, so that was taken care of. We would need to pick up extra propane for the camping stoves, but that was always going to be a part of the thing. I had Fred run me by Dick''s at the Town Center since this was potentially going past where Fred Meyer was reliable. He''d been hard at work, bringing together lists of the various charity organizations around Portland, and an up-to-date list of shelters, which ones were day shelters versus overnight shelters, and marked which ones were attached to what charity or government group.


    He''d also been talking with various homeless people. There was a distinct problem: A lot of the homeless refused assistance. I didn''t get it, but Fred explained. Centrally, the homeless had gone through so many failed programs, and so many false hopes, that it was easier to just reject the help out of hand than it was to potentially lose what little they did have on someone''s pipe dream, or get it yanked away to some asinine provision. That was gonna be a big obstacle, but there was little I could do about it in the current moment. The mall sale hadn''t quite gone through yet, so I had no way to offer a more permanent solution.


    Princess had a moment of barking at Samson, who took one look at the puppy in front of him, and barked back once, then pawed her over. Understanding of the power structure firmly secured, Princess took to following Samson around. We''d need to work on her dog etiquette when I got back.


    I got everything, plus some extras, just assuming that some of the boys would have forgotten to mention something missing, and while I was at the mall, ducked into Barnes & Noble to grab some books on basic Sociology, as well as coffee and puppaccinos all around. I managed to get to the school just in time for it to let out and got a little precious time with Aimee.


    It wasn''t enough time, but I had a lot going on, so I arranged to come over for dinner on Sunday, took some kissing time, and headed off. I was just pulling back in with Fred when Mr. Bethel pulled up with the trailer. I put my backpack in the van, just in front of his ATV, and then got Fred to help me load up the trailer. I did a last run-through of the house, and checking over everything, we were ready to roll. Mr. Bethel''s van had been rigged for hand controls, allowing him to run both gas and brakes on the steering wheel. He was super-excited for the hunting weekend coming up and went over stuff while we got over to the church for the final call.


    A couple of boys ran late, and trying to keep everyone in line while we waited on a Friday was a full-time job. Finally, with everyone accounted for, we got going.... and then had to pull off, cause one of the drivers had forgotten to get gas. I was using a group of walkie-talkies to talk to a designated person in each car, so we could talk quicker and easier than having to call on the phones, and finally, we pulled into the campsite.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Once everyone was parked, and the boys were rounded up, I opened up the trailer, and faced the group, "Alright, guys. We''ve got a lot to do to get camp ready before dark, but first, I brought some gifts with me."


    I broke out the boxes and opened up the first one. Red wool BSA jackets, and began passing them out. We''d had everyone''s shirt sizes at the beginning of the year, and then box two had base layers for everyone. Box three was loaded with BSA boonie hats. The guys went nuts, throwing on hats and jackets pretty much immediately. I was just happy everyone was on board with it.


    From there, we took the trailer to our actual site and off-loaded everything we would need. I did have to take everyone through putting up the tent, and then, my own built, moved around the troop, making sure everyone had theirs together. It was, strictly speaking, more work getting the tents up than the old ones, but the other side of it was that they looked awesome. We grouped everyone by patrols to keep organization simpler, with our main campfire in the middle of the camp, and broke out chuck boxes while Russ went with the Tenderfoots to get kindling and show them what made for good kindling and firewood. Me and Russ got our own tent along the side of the campfire, and I got moving on dinner as soon as I could. Tonight''s dinner was pretty simple, burgers and fries. Russ did his thing with putting together fruit punch, and hanging a lamp in the tent, then went to check on everyone else while I got some time to myself.


    The next morning, we all swore out a bounty on our bugler, in jest... well half-joking, and the adults learned my most important new skill: I could make really good coffee. We broke up patrols and teams for different events, and Russ did notice I wasn''t on any of the teams. He went to say something, and I just shook my head. I was having a good time anyway, and the important point was getting together with other Scouts, not feeding my ego. While everyone else was out doing their events, I worked on stuff for merit badges. I got signed off on a bunch of badges, not least of which was cooking and woodworking. One of our female leaders, Ms. Owens, shed a tear about her son Robby being so damn happy with his new gear. She talked about it with Mr. Bethel, they''d wanted to get him better stuff, but it was just too much.


    I felt good and bad. Good that I could help, but bad that the help was needed, even so close to home. I got to feel better as the day went on. My troop was cleaning house at events, placed first multiple times, and at least top three for the rest. Chef''s Smell was mostly an honorary, but I''d worked with the guys: Mojo Pork, maduros, and elotes, with a caramel flan for dessert.


    Due to people abusing Chef''s Smell, bringing in specific custom ingredients for just the competition, a hard rule had been passed that whatever was being entered into the competition had to be cooked for the entire troop, not just the competition. It kept some of the more asinine shit at bay, like making filet mignon and lobster tail. As long as we could produce it for everyone using what we had at camp, though, we were in the clear. I took Russ through the pork, which needed time to marinate, while I explained flan to the younger ones. Maduros were mostly a matter of the cook itself, rather than needing a ton of ingredients, and the only other remaining point was the rice that would be served with the pork.


    It wasn''t ''fancy'', but it was great cuisine, and I took to directing everyone, making sure we were starting cook times to roll it out together, rather than cobbling together a piece at a time. The effect, however, was pronounced. I''d taken that talk about seasoning in New Orleans to heart. People could smell our campsite from a ways off, and it was kind of awesome in and of itself. They were getting it, with me just giving direction, and the occasional guiding hand from an adult. Everything put together, we assembled the dishes for the troop, using them as effective guinea pigs. That way, when we did our dish for the judges, we knew we had it. When the judges came by, the troop was fully ready, and Russ explained the mojo pork, Robby talked about the elotes, the maduros and Flan had the tenderfoots, and they launched into their spiel, though I did have to step in to get them to stop talking over each other. I said nothing in correction: This was their time, and I couldn''t let my 1% overpower the effort they''d all put in. It paid off, and we took first place, it wasn''t even close.


    I had a great weekend and got in on Sunday just in time to head over to Aimee''s. I snagged the extra ingredients we had left over from the cooking and remade the dish for her and her Dad. Her dad, when he''d originally heard I was going to cook something, was worried I would make some insane gourmet food, but he didn''t strike me as the type to go for it, so I decided to stick with what I''d taught everyone else to do. It was a great weekend, and I only wish it could''ve lasted longer.


    Monday, however, took a decided left turn. Miguel had arrived and was going nuts on my Bloomberg Terminal, so I let him take it to his office, and we got a call from Beth, who wanted to ask if it was alright if she brought some of her team with her. I didn''t see any particular issue there, and if I could get a team that already knew how to work together well, all the better. And then there was the line: Dozens of people were waiting at the office, queued up in front of Susan''s desk. She looked plenty frazzled as me and Dad came in the door, "Uh, Susan, real quick: Who are all these people?"


    She took a moment staring at me, "Apparently, they''re your employees!"

 Part 29

    Fuck... we got slammed. The entire day was consumed by trying to deal with the line of people, and regardless of how quickly we were trying to go, the line just seemed to get longer. Miguel showed up with prototype business cards and wanted us to rebrand as Aegis, Inc., looking to trade on my own self-imposed moniker. The business cards themselves were kinda cool actually, a translucent blue with silver lettering that looked kind of sci-fi. Broadly, we started sorting people between companies. Portland had heard about our hiring of people like Beth and Miguel, as well as SolCo''s restructuring and upcoming move. I ended up having to call Beth and see if we could get her here any faster, offering to put her and her daughter up, mentioning that her daughter and my sister Merida were around the same age. When Beth asked why, I considered explaining, but instead put her on Zoom, walked into the lobby, and just... turned. We were three hours in, and there were more people than we''d started with. To help ease things up a bit, I''d had to have to have lunch brought in.


    Beth gave several immediate suggestions that were immensely helpful. First, split them up by what company they were looking for employment at so that we could each interview the people that were more specific to the individual company''s needs. So now, instead of one interview at a time, we were running four deep: Miguel handled the finance folks, Dad pulled things together for the real estate end, Fred handled the non-profit, with me on game development. We then turned and made Susan an interviewer as well, tasked with building what would be our secretarial pool. Susan opted to start doing ''working interviews'', grabbing those interviewing to help manage the chaos.


    I quickly developed a simple system for initial weeding: If they started pushing microtransactions, gacha mechanics, or anything akin to loot boxes, that was the end of the interview. I wanted to take my cues from studios like Larian and Paradox Interactive. DLC is fine, as long as it enhances and/or deepens gameplay, but the concept of trying to flip gamers over and shake them for the loose change was never going to make it into our company. Pay-to-win and gambling mechanics had no place here.


    Next, there was a skills assessment, and one poor girl was absolutely paranoid about not knowing how to code but had artwork with her. After getting her some tea to calm down, I explained that artists were needed too, pulling up concept art from games like Final Fantasy, Doom, and other games that had unique art designs. She had skills, but just lacked confidence. Eh... that can be worked on.


    And then... the ultimate frat guy. Couldn''t code, and didn''t do artwork, but strangely enough, when I asked him for ideas for games, he had a ton. Apparently, he and his buddies had done stuff like Fortnite, Call of Duty, and just about every FPS that hit the market, and while he might not know the technical side of video games, his actual level of genre awareness was massive. I didn''t quite have the heart to break it to him that, at some point, he had in fact become an FPS nerd. He had that weird energy of the guy that walks into a room, loudly exclaims, "We''re going caving!" and, despite no one in the room having any prior interest in, or knowledge of caving, they would still all find themselves outside a cave in the middle of nowhere, questioning how they got talked into this. I might not know exactly how to use that, but it had its uses.


    There''s an odd tendency I noticed in studying, that beginning indy studios tended to focus far too much on technical coding ability, but with my 1%, I didn''t need to worry over coding as much. By now, I was crushing my way through C, C+, and C#, the main coding languages used for games, across engines like Unity and Unreal engine. Neither of them were the most elegant platforms, but it gave us a place to start producing games, and I could always just build my own individual engine later custom-tailored to my needs. So I focused on the sides of the gaming industry instead, artists, music, sound, QA, the things that it was better if I had more people for. I did hire on some coders, but it was less about technical ability for me, and more about if I could rely on them, and if they would be willing to call me out on stuff. A bunch of yesmen singing the praises of their lead developer had cratered game studios across the range.


    Other people also showed up, less for employment, and more for advertising their services. Cleaners, food truck operators, it just kept going. We didn''t even get out of the office until around six-thirty, and I was sitting with this bombed-out expression on my face in Cubo, a Cuban restaurant near the office, Miguel sitting across from me, happily chattering away with Susan about how much ass he was about to kick with the team he''d pulled together. I know I ate... I just don''t really remember eating. Swear to God, I''m pretty sure I''d rather fight Reaver again than go through that insane process again.


    Not that the experience had been a bad one. I''d learned a lot about interviewing, what I needed, and how to look at traits that might not otherwise be considered. Still... Jesus Christ.


    Tuesday was a bit more of the same, but I got through it faster, and as afternoon rolled around, Dad let me know that the sale on the mall had gone through. It was officially ours, but with the new hires, we would need to hold off on the second mall purchase. It made sense, he didn''t want to go too close to the line. Besides, we were now furiously moving forward. I unveiled my initial game idea to my new team, a concoction of Darryl''s based off of an old PS1 game, called Azure Dreams. It was a combination of dungeon crawler and city-builder... well, town-builder, but Darryl had found a bunch of stuff that could be added, done better, or expanded on.


    C.J., (a.k.a Frat Guy) put forward that we could probably get started with some quick mobile games to get us going while we worked on the larger game, and the coders seemed to think it was plausible despite their immediate dislike of frat guys. By making a bunch of smaller games first, we could get ourselves together as a team, start making some income, and get our names out there in at least some context. Sarah (Artist) surprised us by suggesting that we could dovetail the games together, maybe making all of them a section of lore-building for the eventual game release. It went surprisingly well, though I knew tensions would arise eventually. I''d seen it in Scouts, I''d seen it at school: Anyone passionate enough to do something creative was going to get creased with each other at some point. Right now, however, we have a firing solution.


    Dad focused on a smaller, more targeted team. He had come up with an interesting plan: One of the problems of housing costs was, well, houses themselves. This meant mortgages and plenty of people around Portland had already defaulted on their loans or were in the process of defaulting, and according to Dad, there was an opportunity here. We''d gotten ''lucky'', buying a property in foreclosure when he and Mom were first starting out, and they had then built the home up. The thing was, once a bank forecloses a mortgage, they''re really just trying to get the debt off their books, even if they take a loss. What we could do is buy up the bad debt for pennies on the dollar, and for those we could help, restructure the thing as a much more equitable refinance or rent-to-own arrangement. We would still make a profit off of the deal, and interested people could keep their homes. For those that weren''t, we could simply forgive the debt, get it off their credit, and flip the house, though this would involve realtors and agents. Fortunately, there were plenty around, and Dad had hired a few.


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    Miguel essentially built his own little financial group within the company, and approached me late on Tuesday with a proposition: To look at and learn the various algorithms that tracked markets, and design the next logical step. He also had a USB drive full of stuff on a range of economic theories, market trading, the works. He was taking no chances, here. He wanted an accurate prediction model that no one else had. While my technical powers could eventually be considered market manipulation past a point, a legitimate computer program that was just accurately collating data did not run afoul of this.


    On Fred''s end, he had not only people who had been hired on for regular positions, which he worked out with Beth but a mass of volunteers. The only issue for volunteers is keeping up motivation. If things stalled, we would quickly lose all but the most ardent, so Fred was getting them to work immediately, using their schedules to spread out volunteers between different organizations. Combined with what I was putting into the food banks and shelters, it would provide an immediate relief while we worked on a more long-term solution.


    The problem arose on Fred''s end: Therapy. Even if someone was fully cognitively normative at the point where they became homeless, the sheer stressors and daily living conditions of homelessness would batter that down, whether drugs and/or alcohol ever became involved or not. You had to be completely ruthless to survive, even with yourself, and it changed people, to say nothing of those who had become homeless due to addictions, or some undiagnosed or untreated mental disorder. Worse was, it was likely that a number had been misdiagnosed, and prescribed drugs that not only weren''t helping them, but causing bigger ones. Again, I drew parallels to Reaver, trapped by not only a lack of understanding but also being given generations of added trauma from misinformation. In some ways, misdiagnosis was worse than being undiagnosed.


    It led to drug and alcohol abuse, for just anything that could numb the pain, even if just for a few hours. When Miguel questioned me, saying it was the junkie problem, I countered, explaining it thusly: You''ve had a long day at work, you''re tired, just drained. You go out after work to have a beer and unwind, right? Now, imagine that horrible day is your entire life, with no real view of where it gets better, and no weekend to look forward to. The best you can hope for is that the weather holds out, that you manage to get to the food bank before all the good food is gone, and that no one steals or destroys your tent while you''re away from it. Wouldn''t you be drinking a bit more?


    At the same time, much as they needed help, the help they were getting was... steeply lacking, we''ll call it. It wasn''t just a matter of underfunded and undermanned organizations, but the entire system around those organizations. They were under counter-productive regulations, and inadequate systems in place to deal with the homeless life. So many of these programs were well-intentioned, but if I mean to cook you dinner, and instead, I burn down your house, do my intentions really matter that much?


    Serious therapy was needed, and people who could get to the root causes behind the addictions and address them, but the lack of trust issue rears its ugly head there. Those in the worst shape were also those who''d been mangled up by the system the most, unwilling to trust it because they''d been repeatedly betrayed by that system. Accidentally relapse? Well, you just lost your home, only now, you''ve also lost all the stuff you had built up to survive on the streets because you trusted them. It didn''t really matter who the they were. But how do you get around it?


    Aimee provided the answer. She came by the office to see the tail end of the mayhem, and meet the new game dev team, to hear me and Miguel going back and forth with Fred about the various problems. Much as you might think less of Miguel for his hard stances, they were actually really helpful. He had the same view most people did, unlike myself and Fred, and I needed those crossed opinions, if for no other reason than to learn to get past them.


    She was hanging back, just sort of waiting around for us to break up the conversation as she worked on one of the gourmet lollipops a local place carried. Then, suddenly, she clapped her hands like I''d seen her do dozens of times at practice when the girls were getting too caught up. We snapped around, "You should hire Anna. I mean, she reads minds doesn''t she? And like, she works for the government... how much could she really be making?"


    Motherfucker. I grabbed my jacket, and me and Aimee grabbed an Uber to the H.A.A., waiting for them to close up, when Anna came out. She saw us and waved, "Oh, hey Marcus, and you must be Aimee. So glad to meet you. Did something come up?"


    "I mean, yes, but it''s pretty tame this time. Do you have a minute?"


    We stopped off at a coffee shop, got drinks, and had a seat in the corner, "I want to hire you."


    That startled her, "I mean, my services are free for you."


    "No, I mean, I want to hire you for my company. You said you wanted to help, yeah? So here it is. I need a unique therapist for my non-profit, someone who can reach people in a way no one else can. This is a job offer," I hadn''t touched my coffee yet. I didn''t want to spare a ton of time on idle chit-chat.


    Anna breathed, deflating after a moment of hope, "That''s going to be difficult..."


    Fuck it, "Anna, I know about the contracts. I found Blacklash''s online. It took work, but I talked to her wife. Here''s the thing, though: The money you owe the H.A.A. is structured like student loan debt. I checked with my Dad, and we can offer full tuition reimbursement after a year. Plus, we pay more."


    Her hands shook, and Aimee gave me a look. She didn''t know what the contract thing was about, and that was a conversation I''d have to have later. Anna''s hands shook, "It''s not that simple. If I leave, they-"


    I nodded, "They''ll pursue a hero''s court-martial, but here''s the thing: They still have to prove that you violated H.A.A. ethics, and you are entitled to representation that meets with H.A.A. approval. You''re not taking a job with a Fortune 500 company; you''re working for a non-profit helping the homeless. How precisely does that violate the codes set forth by the H.A.A.? And as far as loan repayment goes, just keep making the payments til reimbursement time hits, then we clear the remainder."


    There it was: That same look Fred had talked about the homeless having. That instinctive lack of trust based on years of failure. Anna wanted to believe me, but her experiences told her that I couldn''t do it. Unlike the majority of people, however, I''m built different. I fished out Blacklash''s contract, and set it down in front of Anna, "Follow along, and when I get one word wrong, stop me."

 Part 30

    Why aren''t they doing anything? That was the question ringing in my head. I had made the general assumption that when I finally got Anna to take the deal, the H.A.A. would move pretty much immediately to block it but... nothing. They hadn''t said anything for or against it, and that was bugging me.


    Right now, though, I have more pressing concerns. Dad and Miguel were going back and forth over the plan for the housing, and Miguel was getting ready to launch into a full rant, "Look, I get the idea, but this ain''t your specialty. Buying them up individually won''t work like you think it will."


    Dad jumped in, "We can negotiate with the banks on it. The idea''s solid."


    They were both frustrated. This had been going back and forth for a bit, and I stepped in, "Guys! Okay, let''s see if I have this right in my head. Dad, you''re convinced we can do the housing deal, but I think what Miguel is saying is that the approach is wrong. I''m looking at debt collection agencies, and how they do it is to buy up batches of debt at a time, which is how they get the more absurd deals. And looking at it, Miguel''s right. The plan won''t work as it is... not yet, at least."


    I didn''t like that Dad was obviously hurt that I''d taken Miguel''s side, but I mean, what am I gonna do, lie to him? It was right there. Buying individual mortgages wasn''t the direct shot he thought it was. The banks would see us coming, and fight to keep the amount as high as they could, to recoup as much as they could. Even if it went the way Dad thought at first, we''d get maybe one or two homes saved before the banks shifted tactics, and closed out not only us, but anyone else trying to affect the same outcome. The central idea, to help people before they got to the losing their homes point was good, but the approach wasn''t as solid as he was thinking it was. Dad could be stubborn, and in a lot of ways, it helped him rise up, willing to keep pushing when a lot of other people would have given up, but everyone has their flaws. Miguel, on the other hand, was arguing from a different place entirely.


    He had watched this go down, watched his own father lose his house, so by natural persuasion, he should be gunning for this. That he wasn''t, that he was taking a swing at it, spoke volumes, "Look, we all want the same thing here, we''re just arguing the best way to get to a solution. Take a minute, neutral corners, and give me some time to consider how we move forward."


    They both got up to go at the same time, but I motioned Miguel to stay. Their backs were up, and I needed them both to stay away from each other. Miguel''s face said it, I hate that I''m right. I''d had the same face enough recently that I could scent my own. Dad needed the time to calm down and listen, and Miguel needed to not feel like a total shitbag, "You remember when you told me I couldn''t have saved the people I fired at SolCo?"


    He nodded, but the near-constant smile was gone. I exhaled steadily, "Okay, it''s almost noon. Let''s go get lunch."


    Our office was half-living in Cubo and a couple of other nearby restaurants by now, so instead, we went over to Sizzle Pie. Pizza was calming, and they sold by the slice. Miguel didn''t talk on the drive over beyond the basics. He wasn''t being rude, he''d just had to tell my Dad that he couldn''t save people like his pops, "You know, both you and Dad told me I can''t save everyone, and you''re both right, but you both also seem to think you each should be able to. You couldn''t have stopped it, and you weren''t wrong here.


    "This can''t be about what feels good, it has to be about doing it right, and that means we''re gonna fight. Everyone we''re hiring on believes, and from what I''ve seen, the believers will fight, even if it turns into fighting each other."


    Miguel took it in, "I just wish I could do something. I''m such an asshole, and then I gotta sit there and tell a guy that he can''t jump in t''help guys like Pops."


    I considered, "Well... that''s not precisely accurate. There may be guys like your dad that we won''t be able to help, or help in time, but we can help Pops."


    He snapped up, "Que?"


    I took a big drink of my soda, "You said it. Your dad worked construction for twenty years. That''s a full Ph.D., internship, residency, and well into a doctor''s career as an attending. We''ll need someone to act as a liaison between us and the construction folks working on the mall, to say nothing of any stuff we''re going to have to build coming up. They have to know how it works, and he fits the bill, and he knows it from the ground up."


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    The smile reignited, and he responded entirely in Spanish, "I can''t wait to tell him!"


    I winced, "You can''t."


    "Come on, ese, why not?!"


    I looked up at the ceiling, "You''re still his kid. Most likely, he''ll see it as pity. Not saying you''re not a man, I''m saying that your dad is still gonna see Mijo, not the man. Don''t be so bummed about it. I can''t give the offer to him either, since I''m actually a child."


    He closed his eyes, "Your dad."


    I smiled, nodding, "Oh yeah. That''s gonna be a fun talk at the office."


    He chuckled ruefully, "Yeah... about your dad. Is he really good to run the real estate side of things?"


    I thought for a moment and considered it, "Don''t know, but to ask the question: Is there any other company where you''re running the financial end of things, and not just manning a desk? We try, we test, and we adapt. It''s all we can do, and frankly, it''s important we''re doing things this way. Now come on, let''s get back to the office, and get our dads working together. No chance of blowback on us with that!"


    Following lunch, things were calmer. Dad had gotten food in him that Mom would have objected to. Much as my diet was all over the place, Dad would live out of the Taco Bell drive-thru if the man wasn''t stopped. There are a thousand places in Portland to get really great Mexican, and yet, I could recite his go-to order before the 1% power had even become a thing: Chalupa Combo, beef, no sour cream, add spicy ranch, a soft taco, large Baja Blast, and two cheesy roll-ups. Apparently, they used to sell something called a Baja Beef Gordita, and that was as close as he could get now.


    The trip through the South had fucked me in at least one way: Our sweet tea and fried chicken options were shit. I''d had the real thing now, and the bullshit version here just didn''t cut it anymore. Ah well, not enough time in the day for this problem, but I would set aside time later to correct it.


    I got back to work, and resumed the fight, "Okay, so giving it some thought, I have a compromise solution: For now, until we''ve got the capital for it, what we do is a partial plan. We help with refinancing, and help people get more favorable terms to help avoid foreclosure in the first place. We can buy the actually bankrupt properties, and put them up on a rent-to-own basis, as opposed to trying to straight-shot this. Later on, we can revisit our options, but just for now, we need to do what we can do."


    They settled it, and shook hands, before I called back as I exited the conference room, "Oh, and we need to hire Hector Suarez. Ask Miguel about it. Off to code!"


    I did need to get coding and walked right into the next argument, World War Nerd. Fuck, I do not have time for this, "GUYS! We''re using Unreal. It''s done!"


    Patrick started to object, but I just cut over him, "I am going to code in Unreal, so your options are: Make useless script we can''t use, or use Unreal."


    I didn''t really care that much, but Unreal had the benefit of being more set for doing direct code, as opposed to Unity, which was designed for snap-to. In the general sense, it was the superior engine for starting studios, but we weren''t the typical studio. At this point, between my typing speed, coding knowledge, and Technopathy ability, it just wasn''t a contest. Okay, time for my next thing.


    I called my team together, "Okay, we''re instituting a new policy. For the last Monday of each month, while you do still need to come to work, you can work on whatever you want for that whole day. No quotas, no meetings, nothing. The only rule is that the next day, share what you''ve worked on. I don''t care if it''s current stuff we''re working on, stuff we''ve released, or new things that you''ve thought of. It doesn''t even have to directly concern your section. Share it. We might implement it immediately, we might not, or we may wait on it, but bring those ideas forward."


    Fully admit, I was cribbing notes from various places. I''d arranged meetings, and organizational charts around the ones used by Naoki Yoshida, who''d rebirthed Final Fantasy XIV. Same thing with deadlines, essentially asking what the shortest times were for a given task, and what the longest times were, then setting the deadline somewhere in the middle. The last Monday idea was from the TedTalk on motivation, and there were a half-dozen other things I was taking from other sources of management. I encouraged playing games that competed with the games we were looking at producing because I wanted to be sure that everyone actually knew what they were walking into, what the expectations of the games were, where they fell short, and what they did well. Know yourself, and know your enemy.


    I got to coding, creating the baseline code for an incremental idler. The irony of me sitting at a computer building an incremental wasn''t lost on me, and I did spare a short laugh at the irony of what I was making, but it was really more of a thought exercise, getting the foundations down rather than coding a proper game. I had to start failing faster, to get the rhythm down. It broke, it froze, it went off the rails in so many spectacular ways, but I kept advancing.


    With things settling down at the office, myself, Dad, and Miguel went to see the mall we''d bought. We took the boards off around the middle of the place, and.... fuck. The interior was pretty trashed, with wiring that had been stripped for copper, sections of ceiling torn out to get at it, and water damage, it was all over the place. Yeah, I kind of expected it, but man, it still sucks. There were some folks there, having snuck into the interior, and using it for shelter. They didn''t bother us or anything, more or less skittering off. It was a prey response, which meant they saw us as predators. Not a great start. There was so much work that needed doing.


    Oh well, that''s for tomorrow. Tonight, I was taking Merida out trick-or-treating.

 Part 31

    I was running Princess through her first agility course... well, I was working on it. Her highness wasn''t responding to treats, so I had to get personal, using her small husky plushie instead. Apparently, huskies aren''t as food-motivated as other breeds, but her husky plush she carried around the house like a baby. That at least got her attention, but instead of directly following through the posts of the agility run, she tended to go around it, cause apparently, they''re also generally smart enough to use a degree of lateral thinking.


    It was while I was doing this that the doorbell rang. We had one of the Ring doorbells, and I checked my phone to see who was there since I wasn''t going to the door to deal with someone trying to tell me about Jesus. Nope, John Cox. Great, H.A.A. bullshit here we come.


    I gave Princess her baby back (She had a bad reaction the one time I''d tried tossing it to her, and wouldn''t deal with me for like an hour), and closed to the front door just ahead of Mom, who''d been absorbed in her book. I pulled the door open, "What is it?"


    John was no-nonsense, launching straight at the point, "We need to talk about Anna. Can I come in?"


    I stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind me, "No."


    He sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. When a guy starts going bald, there are generally two initial reactions that I''ve begun to notice. Either the balding man tries to replace it with fake hair one way or another, or they take John''s cue, and fully shave it off. John had also apparently decided to grow out a goatee... I''m pretty sure this one''s called a Van Dyke. I was considering facial hair, and I might think he''s a prick, but he pulled the look off. In any event, I motioned over to a small seating arrangement. Mom and Dad tended to sit out here together when they wanted some time to themselves.


    John went over and sat down, "Look, I''m essentially on board with what you''re doing, but Anna has a contract with us. She can''t just wander off any old place."


    "Right, that contract she signed on the day of her eighteenth birthday after the one her parents signed her into on her fourteenth?." I took a seat on the loveseat and leaned back. I imagined this would take a while back, but it was here, and I was ready for it.


    He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on trying to keep his temper, "Aegis, I swear, I''m not trying to fight you. She''s AWOL- Absent Without Leave. There are steep penalties for this. I don''t want to see her ruin her life and career over this. We can call it here, she comes back to work, and we just don''t talk about it again. I haven''t called it in yet, but I''m at the end of my timeline. I have to report it if she stays gone, and she''s giving me the cold shoulder."


    I analyzed and spared a glance at the Ring doorbell. Right now, we were still in the camera''s range, and it did record. I had an H.A.A. branch head sitting on my porch talking, "John, she''s happy. We''ve had her start working with some guys, putting together a team, and I''m pretty sure it''s the first time I''ve seen her genuinely happy with her job itself, and not just that ''power of positivity'' smile she usually has."


    He rubbed his fingers just above his right eye, "I get that, really I do, but you can''t just walk off a contract because it feels good. She''s doing important work, whether you understand that or not, Aegis."


    "And I''m not? Have you even read that contract?" I was trying to keep my own temper in check. We had a history of getting hacked off at each other, and I couldn''t blow this chance. Not only was the camera recording, but John had activated it when he rang the doorbell, he''d acknowledged its existence. This being my home, he had no expectation of privacy in the legal sense. Whatever he said next, it would be court-admissible.


    "What? No! Do you have any idea how long those fucking contracts are?!"


    The floor dropped out from under me. "Three-hundred and fifty s- You didn''t read the contract?! It''s your job!"


    He gestured somewhat widely, "No it isn''t! My job is to run H.A.A. affairs in Portland, and greater Oregon if it comes to it since it''s the only branch office. It''s legal''s job to read the contracts, and really, that''s just so they can break it down to parents. It''s not like my team even writes the contracts. Those''re written up in DC."


    My brain kind of clicked off for a minute there. I was just staring, mouth agape, my hands sitting motionless like I was trying to catch some imaginary ball. He wasn''t lying, he had never actually read the contract Anna was under.... how the fuck do you even do that?! I mean not do that?! Jesus fucking Christ!


    While I was having my little mental implosion, John worked something out, "Wait... have you read the contract?"


    I could''ve equivocated, but- Literally, in all my considerations of the whole affair, moves, and counter-moves, it had never even occurred to me that one of the guys running the show had just never bothered to actually read the contract that his supers would be operating under, "YES!"


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    "Anna trusted you with her contract?", he inquired.


    Wait.... inquired. It wasn''t accusatory, it wasn''t asked as a question pertaining to something I shouldn''t have done, like when a teacher would ask a kid something when they knew they''d done something, but needed to hear the kid say it. Oh my God, he doesn''t know anything! How in the fuck did we get here? What sort of operation did they think they were running? I had a whole goddamn plan, and they''re just fucking ignorant?!


    Know Your Enemy. I had simply assumed the enemy to be fully up on what was going on, on the contracts... because they''re adults, and as a kid, I just assumed the adults generally knew what they were doing. I hadn''t thought past that point. Of course they knew. Of course they would have done the obvious thing and read the contracts, "John, do you have anywhere to be?"


    "No, an AWOL super is kind of the top of the priority list right now."


    I nodded, "I''ll be back. Stay."


    I went inside and had a moment of freak out, calmed myself, and grabbed copies of the now three contracts. I now had: Anna, Blacklash, and Tim, who had been kind enough to donate a copy of his from his Google Drive. I diverted on my way back and grabbed drinks for us, and as I sat down, got John''s pizza order. This was going to take a while, but at least John liked Dr. Pepper, so he wasn''t a total bastard.


    I''d left the original contracts as is, making copies that I could highlight, and make notes on. It was essentially there to preserve the chain of evidence, while still being able to go over them, "We''ve got a long night, but you don''t have to read the whole thing. I highlighted the relevant bits."


    "You''re building a case," He observed. It wasn''t a question.


    At first, he seemed pretty disinterested. I mean, they''re contracts. It''s adult homework for lawyers, so who''s out there like, "Aw yeah! I get to read huge contracts!"


    However, I saw it when he found the sections further in, and he suddenly shifted, whipping over to Blacklash''s contract, then Tim''s, ripping through the stack to find the same clauses. I was tipping the pizza guy when he finally said something out loud, "That''s insane!"


    "Uh, thanks, Toby. This is for you. Thanks again, and drive safe!"


    I handed off most of the stack to my mom, only taking the pizza for us, a bottle of Dr. Pepper, and my garlic parm wings. I sat down to John, red-faced and shaking, and he launched up out of his seat, pacing, before slamming back down in the chair, "It''s backdoor slavery!"


    I was busy wolfing down wings, answering around my food. It was a bit odd seeing one of my rants from the outside, "Well, technically it would be indenture, but still fucked, yeah."


    Y''know, it''s starting to occur to me that letting people just come to the conclusion themselves was really just the better way to do things. Every time I tried to explain things to people, I had to do these huge long runs of explaining, while if I just let them get there themselves with a couple of nudges here or there, it went so much easier. It took longer, yeah, but I didn''t have to fight as much.


    John was running through an app on his phone, referencing back to the contracts. He was searching for something, much as I''d had to research the clauses myself. Whatever he found only pissed him off more, and I realized I had to step in, shoving a slice of pizza on a paper plate into his hand and putting my hand over his screen, "John, breathe."


    John halted, set his phone down, and ate his pizza. I decided it might perhaps be time to extend an olive branch, "I get it, dude. Ever since this started, the more I''ve learned about how things work, the angrier I''ve gotten. I was sure you knew about this, but clearly, that''s way off base."


    John said nothing, he just... ate and looked vaguely into the middle distance. He was shell-shocked, unable to reconcile the evidence now in front of him. I might dislike John, but I was watching his belief structure crumble in real-time, so he had a degree of sympathy from me. Words didn''t seem to be reaching him though, until he suddenly spoke, his voice going completely monotone, "Hanlon''s Razor."


    "Um, o-kay..."


    "''Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity''. It''s an adage, that most of the bad things in the world that happen aren''t because of some mustache-twirling villainy, but just people being idiots," He was still staring off into the distance, but he was talking, so that''s a positive sign.


    The adage explained so much of what I''d seen. I''d been imagining vast conspiracies, counter-productive rules, and regulations by a nebulous they. It could seem like that, but applying the adage, it was much more likely that everyone was just a fucking moron, and being short-sighted. I wasn''t immune to it, either. We sat there together, eating, until John came to a decision, and started back in on his phone, something obviously occurring to him, and satisfied, he finally looked to me, "Okay, in order: With the addition of the powers that Reaver grants you, and by my position and authority under the H.A.A., I do hereby upgrade Aegis to D-Tier. Follow the link I''m sending you to acknowledge this change.


    I was mid-chew, so I just used the Technopathy to do it on my phone, while John continued, "Second: Contingent with the authority of the greater Portland Metro Area''s declared State of Emergency, and according to federal guidelines, I do hereby recognize the homeless situation in Portland as an emergency situation. D-Tier hero Aegis stands as witness."


    Oh God, he''s recording this!


    John didn''t stop, "As an emergency requiring direct heroic intervention, I am enacting Crisis Protocols as established in H.A.A. guidelines. In keeping with regulations, Aegis is hereby granted emergency status in Portland, and the Greater State of Oregon, pursuant to the handling of the homelessness emergency, and is as of-" he noted the time and date- "activated as a full Hero, with all commensurate authority and responsibilities until the crisis is contained."


    I couldn''t move. I registered what he was saying, but it was so far out of pocket. It was like watching the sun rise in the west. I just sat there holding up a wing I was about to eat as John just kept plowing through H.A.A. regulatory precedent into his phone, "Finally: As the senior hero of the Portland Metro Area and the Greater State of Oregon, Aegis is hereby granted full command authority of all necessary forces and requisitions until such time as a special Congressional committee can be convened to determine longer-term solutions should they prove necessary or warranted."


    The fuck?!


    John stood up to leave, "Kid, you have ninety days from this moment. Anna''s your sidekick."

 Part 32

    So... fuck. According to what I''m looking at here, as far as Portland goes, I''m fully off the leash. Let''s take a moment to go over the basics. So as a full hero, I now had full arrest and detainment authority in line with police and federal agents, no more having to hear about it from the H.A.A. or other adults. That was the big one, and it also removed the weapons restrictions I had as a teenager. If I had a weapon, I could use it. I could start and do patrols, and coordinate with law enforcement, and even the military.


    That was the hero stuff, and it was pretty standard. The next bit, the emergency powers, is where things went off the rails. Portland had declared homelessness a state of emergency several years ago, to be able to cut through a bunch of red tape and be able to apply for federal emergency relief funding. When the H.A.A. declared it an exigent crisis, it changed the rules in profound ways. And by change, I mean burning them to the ground and pissing on the ashes.


    Let''s for a moment go over what my new powers and authority look like:


    Vehicle Restrictions- Gone. Whatever it takes to get the job done as far as vehicles go, I''m considered to be licensed through the H.A.A. and the federal government behind them. I could literally roll a tank down Cesar Chavez, and while I might have to explain myself in later reports and hearings, it was otherwise perfectly legitimate in the moment.


    Weapons Restrictions- Nope, don''t have that. I couldn''t drop a nuke except under special provisions, but my restrictions more or less ended there. Everything else was on the level, and I had the authority to kill, though obviously, I would have to answer for it after the fact. Not that I would, but the fact is, that was still there.


    Command- I am in command of all H.A.A. assets in the entire state of Oregon. Heroes and employees, John included, fall under assets. Apparently, this is the provision in the military that lists attempted suicide as ''destruction of government property''. This included all offices of support, including tactical teams within the STATE of Oregon. Yeah, the fourteen-year-old now has command of a not-so-small army. Truly, what I''m looking at in the armory of these guys is... extreme, even by Texan standards. I could even order up the National Guard if I so chose, but I didn''t... wait, does the National Guard have access to the Army Corps of Engineers? Okay, I might have a use there.


    Requisition- I can order emergency requisitions. Sure, if I go full monkey shit, I''ll get told no, or be explaining myself to a Congressional Budget Committee down the line, but shy of that, I could order just about anything I needed, personnel included, as long as they were attached to the H.A.A.. Given the presence of magic, and the research being done, that could get frightening quickly.


    Authority- I had emergency authority over federal agencies in Oregon. FBI, DEA, ATF, just so many three-letter groups. I could direct and guide efforts, and state and local government branches were obliged to work with me, though that part was a bit more nebulous.


    Access- I had full access to the H.A.A., including files. The first thing I did with that was to get copies of all the contracts in the system, encrypting them to the full extent of my abilities, Technopathy included, and then moved the files to an air-gapped computer, a fresh laptop from Best Buy. I didn''t care about specs, I just found one that was essentially intended to be used in heavier work, like construction yards and the like.


    There were tons of things like this, all essentially designed around the concept that in a crisis, a hero couldn''t be held back by unnecessary rules, regulations, or pig-headed bureaucratic bullshit. I could build and declare emergency structures, and declare curfews, it was truly insane. If this fucked up in any way, John was going to disappear down the deepest darkest hole.


    After reading to Merida and tucking her in, I got to work, learning the rules. The short version of it was that, as far as the crisis in Portland was concerned, I was answerable to the Geneva Conventions and God. Everyone else would have to wait ''til afterward to tear me a new one.


    First things first, I copied files outlining my authority, made physical copies, and essentially just got paperwork in order. I was rapidly realizing that if you had the right paperwork, you could get away with anything. John sent over official paperwork via pdf with his signature on it all and told me to be certain to pick up my badge as soon as possible from the H.A.A..


    Okay, think. The crisis is homelessness, so what do we need? Shelter. I mean, I could make more tents, but that was inefficient when I could just order actual army tents. It wasn''t ideal, though. According to the most conservative estimates, there were just shy of seven thousand homeless people in Portland as of last year. Of course, it was insanely difficult to get actual numbers, so the real answer was almost assuredly higher than that, so I made the assumption that Portland had missed about half of the actual number, so I planned around fourteen thousand people. Yeah, I was certain I was running over by a significant number, but that was also the point, to have so much extra that even if it was far worse, there would be no break in the chain.


    I initially started from a baseline of looking for how to house everyone in Portland, but it was a serious problem. Even assuming the seven thousand was accurate, you would still need at least seventy camps, assuming you limited the camps to a population of one hundred each, which was a pretty big camp and difficult to locate places for camps of that size. Where do you even put that many people in a city? Generally speaking, I could commandeer buildings, but that would turn into a giant clusterfuck, spreading out forces across the entire city, creating massive traffic snarls... no, that''s not gonna work. I need new options.


    I reached out with my technopathy, let my senses reach for the search, Sync following as fast as I could think, and my own speed of thought being rather augmented already. Images began snapping up in front of me, I was sifting through information spanning across all of Oregon when I saw it: An article. It was one of those touristy sites, and they had written an article on the top ten ghost towns in Oregon. Some were left over from the gold rush, some had been nearly wiped out in a natural disaster, or a new rail line took their business away, killing the town. They were perfect.


    One of the core problems of treating things like addiction is neighborhood familiarity. An alcoholic in Portland was under constant exposure to places to get a drink, making it steeply more difficult in the beginning days of sobriety, when your willpower is weakest, and your stress around sobriety is highest. I cross-referenced, and for most recovery programs, they pushed for ninety days, whether it was AA with their "90 meetings in 90 days" point out of the gate, or more formal rehab facilities. Thirty days was a sort of minimum, but ninety from the research I was doing was far and away better, with markedly lower percentages of relapse. I mean, of course, it made sense, the more time you got to work on yourself, and the longer you could be kept in a controlled environment away from the substances you abused, the better.


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    Scanning the map, I even located a good foundational strip, just east of Warm Springs Reservation, home to the Wasco bands of Native Americans, which were a part of the larger Chinook if I''m reading their home site correctly. Hmm, I should talk with them if I''m going to be operating around them. Guess it''s time to learn conversational Wasco.


    The towns themselves were absolutely minute, places like Shaniko, Kent, and Antelope, to which even other Oregonians would respond, "Where?" but they were located along the same strip of highway. People here don''t think about it, but Oregon is large enough to fit the entire UK landmass inside of Oregon, with thousands of square miles left over. Population-wise, however, we were one-fifteenth the size of the UK, with 4.2 million people in Oregon, versus just over 66 million in the UK.


    There were other concerns to this idea as well. What residents did exist would need to be spoken with. Yes, I could just do what I wanted, but what I wanted was to make sure I had everyone on board from the jump. Guess getting that public speaking merit badge is about to be a reality. I contacted SolCo, now in the midst of changing their name to Aegis Solar. They were working on the move already, but I would need them to send folks along. Whatever we were doing, we would need power, and solar was fast to put together, and we could always hook into larger power later. I ran through their catalog of stuff and noticed two prospective projects that were interesting for different reasons: For one, a projection of how to use solar panels to cover parking areas... I could use that for the mall, and let Raj know about that, but the second piece was a bit more long-term, solar roofing tiles. At current, they... didn''t look all that great, but I moved that off. I could work on that later when I had more time to explore, but I couldn''t help but think it had promise.


    I knew I would need to make adjustments and reposition, but I couldn''t waste time trying to be perfect. I could use local Portland locations to process the homeless, then relocate based on more targeted groups. The first and largest separation would be in delineating which ones had serious mental disorders, and getting them into facilities that could care for them. We would need to keep families together as best as we could. I kept going through what was essentially sorting groups based on the various challenges in making people self-sufficient for the long-term.


    One huge part of it would be the mall. It had to be finished as soon as possible, to be able to start housing people. If we switched to a 24-hour construction model, we could run three shifts, but I was certain I could find other ways of moving things forward. Again, talk to locals, but in this instance, there was a good chance they would be more receptive since it was mostly commercial around us, and a brand new mall brought brand new business. Other shops and such had closed down around the mall after it closed down, without that main draw. It was like a well that ran dry. Yeah, the people suffered, but so did the local plants that were getting incidental water from the well''s natural reservoir. Same thing, the mall had been an anchor for the neighborhood, so went it dried up, it started triggering the same in everything built up around it.


    The problem was people. I needed people, and finally, I turned to the H.A.A. files. John had given me access, and now I started looking through it. The H.A.A. was a sort of weird amalgam of law enforcement and disaster relief organizations. This meant they also had access to construction personnel and equipment, so let''s get that. Meanwhile, I needed supers.


    The inherent problem of my plan is that it wasn''t humanly possible to pull it off. So, let''s go superhuman. For instance, the hero Rockalanche sprang up almost immediately. Rockalanche''s power was control over stone, but he was mostly considered for crime-fighting. Criminal underuse of his powers from what I was seeing of the ability, since he could lay cement, even reshape existing stone. In the context of a super-fight, his speed was an issue, but those were situations where a quarter of a second was the difference between life and death. In construction terms, he would have radical capabilities that couldn''t be matched by whole teams of builders.


    Siren, a heroine out of L.A., could use her voice to create an effect akin to Reaver''s fear aura using her voice. The difference was that she could trigger endorphins instead of fear, and based on the power she put behind her voice, it could be a general uptick, or she could ''bliss'' everyone in range of her voice out. It was D-tier as a power, and she was fresh out of the academy, trying to make a name for herself, but since her power, like the fear aura, hit everyone within its range, she was having trouble getting on a team. For my needs, she was perfect.


    There were dozens of E-tier and low-end D-tiers like this scattered out across the country. Their powers weren''t really being examined for their maximum utility, and I got why as I looked through the Tier System itself. Most of the infrastructure of hero assignments was done by people who themselves did not have powers and were only looking at the direct military applications of the powers. They didn''t properly understand them, but as I examined the powers, I could see the use.


    I made my selections of personnel, building a team of empaths and fellow psychics for Anna. We would need them, and I sent the roster off to her to go over it. Then I looked at folks who had construction abilities, grabbing Rockalanche and Bloom as a pair. Bloom had plant growth, able to markedly speed up the growth of plants. Again, in a construction capacity, this was insane, with the ability to grow and age trees, creating fresh lumber without the need to cut down vast tracts of forest land. Finish it up with Push, a kinetic E-Tier, and the trio could speed build most construction, as long as they had someone with practical knowledge and experience. Enter Hector Suarez, and we had what we needed for the team.


    I was just about done when it occurred to me that we had a secondary issue: Drugs. It was less weed problems, but the harder stuff, opioids especially. A well-meaning but ill-informed law, Measure 110, had de-criminalized drug use in Oregon, and the problem exploded. The idea was to get the addicts the help they needed rather than arresting them and putting them into a prison system that tended to make them into harder criminals, but it came across as tacit approval instead. It had recently been rolled back, re-criminalizing drug use, but that was still in its infancy, and the damage had been done. Once we started moving the homeless back into Portland, the availability of drugs would be a problem, and we needed to prevent relapses. We had to take the dealers off the board, that much was clear. I could use Reaver''s Prey Scent to find the drugs, but we would still need others with us, and of course, scouring across the city ran into an issue of sheer territory. I could coordinate with the police, and request heroes, but also sent in requests for DEA, ATF, and FBI support. If I could learn to coordinate them all, then under the Crisis Protocols, we get most of the drugs off the street, at least long enough to break the current cycle of abuse. Of my entire list of people I''d grabbed, the highest power was a D-tier and a whole lot of E-tiers who could be put together as much more effective teams.


    I was only just finishing up the work a little after dawn and after some food, headed over to the H.A.A.. It was then that the news hit. It was everywhere. News stations across the globe were reporting on the Crisis Protocols in Portland, and my face was everywhere as well. I only found out when I got a call: Marisol Reyes. Ms. Marisol called me personally this time.

 Part 33

    "How did you react to the discovery of your new status, given the situation in Portland?", Ms. Marisol was looking at me from the seat in her studio, while I sat in what was now my office in the H.A.A., talking over my computer monitor.


    I sighed, and blinked a little, "It was.. it''s big. Kind of hilarious, though. I was eating some wings at the time, when John Cox, head of the H.A.A. branch, dropped it on me. I kind of just stared at him, holding up this half-eaten wing. I imagine I looked pretty silly, but I mean, how would you have reacted Ms. Marisol?"


    She did a good-natured laugh, "I can only imagine what you''re going through right now. What are your priorities at the moment?"


    "The biggest priority right this second is making certain I have everything in place, and that I speak with all involved parties. I know I should be aiming for a flashier beginning, but I''ve done my research. Plenty of attempts to alleviate homelessness have been made, and so many have gotten buried because people tried to make it look like they were making progress, rather than focusing more on making actual progress," I said, quietly sending off memos through my technopathy as I chatted away. The interview was important, but I had more to do, and I couldn''t fully spare the time.


    Ms. Marisol had caught me just before entering the H.A.A., asking for an interview. My initial instinct was to put it off. After all, how much could there be to report? I hadn''t even gotten my badge yet, but when I brought it up to her, Anna had a much different take, "Marcus, have a seat."


    I wanted to get on with my day, but Anna was rarely insistent, so I had a seat, and she started, "You need to do the interview."


    "Come on, really? I can do it later when I''ve actually got some stuff together. Right now? I''ve got like a million things to do," It was a waste of time.


    Anna didn''t let me off that easy. "Yes, you do have a million things to do, and the interview is the first one of them. Have you really considered what this looks like right now? The entire world woke up a few hours ago to find out that a fourteen-year-old was given executive authority over a state. Boy Scout notwithstanding, the world doesn''t know you. They don''t know your plans, and they don''t know what your ultimate goal is. There will be plenty that are scared of what''s happening, scared of you."


    She wasn''t wrong. I''d love to think I had a reputation for being someone trustworthy, but trust is earned, and whatever trust they might have in me to be a decent person, it was different now. They could laugh things off when it was just ''hero stuff'', or when a teenager bought his own mall. Now, though, I was in charge of a state. I mean, not a terribly highly populated one, but still, it was expecting too much that I could just do whatever, and the rest of the world would just be cool with it.


    "So are you saying that other attempts at curing homelessness have been more in line with publicity stunts?"


    That snapped me back to the conversation real quick, "No. Image is important, and the image of progress in itself can be important to those in the struggle. The problem is that limited resources get expended on the initial vision of progress, and then the resources for the actual progress taper off, and... they get screwed again.


    "It''s what we see again and again, and it''s a large part of the reason that those most in need of help avoid it amongst the homeless. They''ve been let down, abandoned, and abused so many times. I will break that cycle."


    Ms. Marisol was clearly getting direction from whomever was on the other end of her earpiece, but it made sense. This was a developing story, so most likely, they were feeding her various updates from her producer. Knew that Newsroom marathon would pay off. She had a new question, "You''ve used the term homeless, but there are many who believe that the proper term should be unhoused individuals. Would this language better fit the situation?"


    I actually felt Anna''s palm hit her forehead as the question came out. Alright, I''ll be honest... lost my cool for a moment here, "On behalf of the homeless of Portland, the greater State of Oregon, and on the behalf of every person in the history of all of humanity that has been homeless... they can go fuck themselves!"


    Oh yeah, there it is. Anna sighed, fully unsurprised by the statement. Shock registered as people on the show had gotten used to me being generally polite, but there was a line here, "Inane bullshit like this stalls legitimate help! It doesn''t ''raise awareness'' or whatever other asinine bullshit buzzwords you wanna jam together. It wastes time and starts idiotic arguments that are the height of privilege. No one trapped in this shit cares, they don''t have the capacity for it, cause they have real problems, like where the next meal comes from, where they can sleep safely tonight, and whether someone''s robbed or burned down their tent since they were last there. They don''t have the free time to come up with new language to be offended by.


    "So you know? They can go argue about the language, and I''ll keep myself busy with getting them homes, jobs, and help that actually matters."


    Yeah, I was gonna pay for that one. The interview wrapped up shortly after that, and having given the internet enough fuel to go fully nuclear, I went on about my day. The next fun moment? I had to go talk to a slew of local business owners who wanted a word about what was happening. They seemed to think I was going to speak with them each individually, but I didn''t have the sort of time to have the same conversation dozens of times. So, we rounded everyone up in what was just a gymnasium in the H.A.A., and I stepped up front with a mic, "Okay, I know everyone here has seen the news, and yes, I''ll be handling things to take care of the current crisis. Now, you''ll see mics on either side, as well as down the center. Once I say my piece here, there''ll be an AMA section, and then, I''ve got more people to talk to."


    I pretended to shuffle some papers for a moment, and launched off, "Okay, first off, I get it, you have businesses, and we''ll need businesses in order to make sure this succeeds. Part of this whole system is jobs, we need jobs to keep this from turning back into the same situation or a worse one. Portland businesses are at the forefront of my plans, even if I''m not immediately involving all of you.


    "Next. We''ll be making use of as many Portland industries that produce what we need as possible. I could just order everything in, true, but we might as well use what we have, and in helping that way, we funnel economy into Portland which helps us out with the relief of homelessness going forward. If anyone here is involved in a business that can help in solving this crisis, there''s a man over here on my left named Gregg. He''s running point on the H.A.A. disaster relief for businesses. Talk to him, and we''ll get the ball rolling."


    Everyone seemed a bit more relaxed in general. The business leaders heard the magic words: I''m not coming for you, and you could make some money. Unfortunately, there was a particular class that was about to be made considerably less relaxed, "As to the renting situation in Portland... here, landlords will be far less happy with me. It''s gotten out of hand, and it''s getting stopped, but to my other business leaders here that are bout to scream about capitalism, understand me: They''ve screwed all of you. Gen X, Millennials, and Gen Z would love to join country clubs, but that rent allotment says no. They''d love to go out to bars and restaurants more often, but that rent says it isn''t happening. Buy better clothing? Rent''s a problem. The rampant theft? Desperate situations breed desperate solutions. Student debt pretty much assures that they might never get to buy homes and combine it with rent, that''s just a pipe dream as it stands now. If this situation does not get resolved soon the entire housing market is going to crash as the Boomers leave the market.


    "This exists at all levels of Portland society because just as the cost of living has gone up for the poor, it has skyrocketed for everyone else as well. It''s hurting every business outside that group, and due to the rise of corporate-owned apartment complexes, competition in the market has been gutted, since many apartment complexes are hiding their true corporate ownership, groups of companies that are owned under the same umbrella company. Their money leaves Portland, never to return, and that stops now."


    I knew the landlords were going to pitch a fit, so I went ahead and got myself my own angry mob for free. The people of Portland would yell at them, sure, but they hadn''t changed anything from that, because why would they? People still needed places to live, so there wasn''t a proper motivation to change the arrangement. The first landlords stood up, only to get shouted down by the other business leaders, who were now starting to get the picture of how many of their businesses were losing profit to them.


    Now let''s take it for a spin, "My first emergency proclamation is this: All apartment complexes must prominently display their full corporate ownership and must show that ownership to all new or current residents in clear terms. If this is not taken care of in one week, you will be fined, and from there, if you haven''t taken care of it, then two weeks after that, we will be severing the ties, revoking your licensing to operate as apartments. The property will revert to the City of Portland until new owners buy the property from them. You''re free to argue this after the emergency situation has resolved, but it will be seen to in the meantime."


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    While some landlords looked furious, I noted one or two who heard it, and the potential possibility: Encourage your competition to reject the current rule, and then potentially you could scoop up a shiny new complex for next to nothing. The sharks would be swimming, but swimming against each other as much as me.


    "Mall owners, we have a special provision for you, a separate presentation by my company, Aegis, Inc.. This is not paid, it''s pro-bono, it costs you all nothing, and represents a potential new revenue stream for your consideration. You can contact Miguel Suarez for more information, and he has business cards available for interested parties."


    From there the Q&A started, and it generally went how I expected. Business owners in downtown who''d had their stores robbed, vandalized, and otherwise seen their business crumble away over the last several years wanted to know what I was going to be doing about it. I went over my initial plans, focusing on creating what were essentially rehab communities, and moving the homeless to there, cutting the numbers involved. This would also involve cleaning up the camps around the city, and some restoration projects. I didn''t mention my eventual plans for the actual criminal element of the city. I didn''t want it getting back before it was time to spring the trap on them.


    Then, one particular owner stepped up to the mic, a middle-aged woman named Sheila, "Hi. My question pertains to your upcoming mall. I own a bakery on the west side, and I was wondering about leasing rates for businesses in your new mall."


    I hadn''t expected the question, but it wasn''t too difficult... then I saw a bunch of other nods around the room, "Well, it''s not really the purpose of this meeting, but you can also speak with Miguel about that. He would have the information on it."


    Another owner was in business around the mall, "If I might ask: How long until the mall is finished? My bar''s been kind of on the edge for a bit."


    More nods of affirmation. Okay, this is going in an odd direction, "I''ve ordered in things to get the renovations of the mall done as fast as possible. This means increased work crews, so I do apologize, but there''s definitely going to be some noise for a while. Our current plan is to be operational within the next ninety days."


    The owners from around the mall took it... differently than I would have thought. I''d assumed they would kick a bit, but when they heard mention of construction crews, felt more secure- OH. Construction workers would most likely hit up whatever was convenient nearby, rather than go hunting for somewhere specific. It was a more or less automatic business for them, much as the construction noise might be otherwise harmful, and their business had already been reduced with the mall dying, so it wouldn''t be driving off much business.


    A few needed help to stay afloat, so I directed them to Gregg. Finally one of the landlords stepped forward, "I have a problem with this ''proclamation'' of yours. The companies that bought these complexes are just trying to earn a profit, like every other business here. What right do you have to hurt that?"


    I could feel Anna''s disapproving look back behind me, so I took a moment to breathe before responding, "And people have a right to be able to afford to live in the city they work in. It would be one thing if it was one or two, but nearly every complex in this city falls under that heading. Your companies knew what they were doing, and didn''t just build new apartments, but bought out existing complexes, drastically raising the rents to ''recoup'' your investments, investments that should not have been made if they required such staggering rental prices to be recouped. I have evidence in front of me of independent complexes that have literally doubled their rents in the last ten years while offering no new services or amenities to counter or explain that rise in rent, all owned by similar companies. It''s FAR ahead of inflation and even raises in property value, taxes, and pretty much any metric that would explain such a constant, consistent shift.


    "If I had the authority for it, I would not be outside of reality to label the practice as monopolistic price-fixing, since, let''s be real, you''re not even competing with one another, all charging remarkably similar prices across all instances. But, you have given me an idea, so thank you.


    "I will be setting up three distinct websites for rentals, leases, and homes. For rental, all Portland renters will be able to post, not just the complexes as happens on the larger renting sites. The same will be done for homes, including what homes are going up on bankruptcy, and we will arrange it for private sales, not just those through realtors. Finally, a leasing site for commercial and industrial spaces following the same essential rules."


    I did the paper shuffling again like I was looking for a particular note, "Now, a final note: We''re going to be working with Tenant Court here at City Hall to work things out on evictions. While I''m not currently going to halt evictions, we will be directing resources to help get people out of their current predicaments with their rent, whether that involves them keeping their current lease or us figuring out somewhere else for them to live. This does not halt eviction for things like vandalism, theft, or violent behavior, just the people who are behind on their rent. You''ve oddly enough hurt yourselves in a lot of ways on that count, so we''ll come up with stuff for getting you paid out, and keeping what people we can in their homes while we get the new paradigm sorted out."


    The other landlords peeled out of the question line. Some people''s kids, man. I spent the better part of an hour fielding questions until it looked like everyone was done one way or another, either satisfied that they had all the information they needed or going off to seethe on their own time. The latter group was going to be an issue.


    They filed out, and I got enough time to grab a bite real quick, and the next group launched in, the H.O.A.s... they''re not happy with me either. Researching H.O.A.s had been troubling. For so many, they operated with next to no real restrictions, and it definitely showed. Portland had made no proper, concrete regulations for these, nor had a number of cities around the country drawn such things up. H.O.A.s in and of themselves weren''t a problem and could be good, but they needed better oversight, restrictions, and regulations that protected against the worst impulses of those running them. Some of the things they got away with were just idiotic, like people getting fined for parking their own cars in front of their own house for just one example. Other H.O.A.s seemed barely functional, unable to handle even simple matters, and no provisions in place for the residents to replace bad leadership.


    Preventing evictions and bankruptcies was important, as both were things that led directly or indirectly toward homelessness, and we needed to stem the bleeding. Get evicted, and you would have trouble getting another place around Portland, especially with so many ''sister company'' apartments. Bankruptcy could destroy years of otherwise good credit, and knock you into a different life.


    Next came groups like Oregon Food Bank and Salvation Army, all the groups that were associated with working with the homeless more directly. Their questions were more related to what was going to be happening over the next little bit, and what their roles would be, and while I might argue with certain groups'' individual policies, I needed all of them. I was a little surprised to see the head of the BSA District Council in attendance. This meeting kind of loved me immediately. I mean, my donations budget notwithstanding, I''d demonstrated an incredibly active desire to do the same thing they were trying to get done. Every shelter and Food Bank in the area was overworked and understaffed and had been for years now. The prospect that someone was going to potentially change that dynamic had them ready to go.


    The head of the BSA District stepped up to the mic, "Lincoln Tsumpti, representing the Boy Scouts council here in Portland. What do you need from us?"


    I, uh... okay, another little gap. I hadn''t properly factored in Boy Scouts, so it did take me a moment, "Mostly, we need folks who can clean up around the city, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts if we can get them. I''m also certain the Food Bank and kitchens could use some volunteers. There''s been a lot of damage, and we need to get it cleared up."


    It was kind of like that here. This group was more about working out federal funding and marching orders. I directed a lot of it through Fred, since that was specifically our non-profit group, to come together and create a council. They wanted assurance more than anything else.


    All-in-all, I spent eight hours up on that stage, largely just answering questions, laying out the game plan, and then on to the next group. Anna let me know that I had one final group, but it was much smaller: The mayor, city council, and Oregon''s Congressional Reps. We would hold that meeting in a conference room, and everyone felt awkward. I was drained from the all-day press of everything, and they were dealing with a fourteen-year-old kid who was now their boss for the next few months. Super fun.


    The first thing I did was actually take the office of Commissioner of Police from the Mayor, and she wasn''t deeply thrilled with me on that, but I mean, she''s never been a cop or any other member of law enforcement. That should have been the job of someone who was in the field and had some degree of proper experience with the thing but with an eye to the future. It was an old holdover from before the Portland population boom. Locating one had been back-burnered repeatedly over the years, but we needed action now that would roll over into whatever became of Portland in the aftermath of this. The council had a ton of things to say, none all that helpful really, but I assured them I would seek their input whenever I needed it, and the people from Congress needed to go over paperwork with me for submitting reports, and to get an idea of what precisely my intended goal was.


    By the time evening rolled around, I was just done. I was finally sitting in Jersey Mike''s with Anna and Miguel eating when I got a text from Mr. Bethel, who was confirming the time to leave for the hunting trip. Fuck. I almost canceled, but Anna halted me, "Marcus. We have several days before anything happens with all of this. It''s coming up on the weekend, and there just isn''t anything to be done until Monday. You should go, take the weekend."


    "Anna, there''s a lot of shit that needs to be in place before-"


    She held up a hand, "That''s why heroes get sidekicks. I can keep things moving, and help get heroes settled as they come in. This is probably the last weekend you''ll get to yourself for a while, so you need to take it. I''m telling you that as your sidekick, your friend, and a fully licensed therapist. I''ll take care of Portland. You go."

 Part 34

    I was assured by no less than a dozen people that things would be fine for me to head off on the hunting trip with Mr. Bethel. I''m actually glad I got to go, but it was hard to click off, my mind running through everything that needed to be done. Also, if I''d bagged out, there wasn''t anyone else to go with him, and as capable as Mr. Bethel might be, his disabilities meant that he couldn''t be out in the woods alone. His son had already found other things to do for the weekend, so if I left, then he had no one to go with him.


    Reaver was a bit more in the moment, and its identity was growing, so I now was starting to get questions while we rode, Why don''t they reforge him so his legs work?


    I thought back to it, rather than speaking the question aloud, Humans don''t work like that. The damage is in his spine, so the signals from his brain can''t make it to his lower half.


    We swung through Jack in the Box. Not really too many pre-dawn options in Portland. Despite being a city, most of Portland shuts down at night. Our Wal-Marts aren''t even 24-hour. A few places, like McDonald''s and Jack, ran 24-hour drive-thrus, but overall, almost the whole city was shut down when we left. Mr. Bethel talked at length about the upcoming trip and the area we''d be camping out in. He loved this shit, Scouts too. It was only too bad that he hadn''t been made Scoutmaster earlier, cause his excitement was infectious, and that could''ve saved us attrition on boys.


    People would say that he was the sort of man that ''demanded respect'', but I always felt like the term was inadequate. He demanded very little, he just... exemplified. Hmm, wouldn''t have gotten that one before the 1%, it had its upswings in my personal life. We drove out of the city, heading sort of vaguely out in the direction of the principal mountain range in Oregon, the Cascades. The one that everyone around the area knew was Mt. Hood, which you could generally see from a lot of places around the city. People think of Portland as A City, but it isn''t that difficult to get out into the wilderness. Take a wrong turn in sections of the city, and suddenly you''re in farm country.


    I decided to swing through the Troop site, and Darryl had been at it again. Now, aside from video tutorials and such, Darryl had stacked up other features, such as merit badge tracking, service hour tracking, and... some sort of thing that was grouping the badges based along sympathetic lines, with suggestions on which merit badges could be worked on simultaneously. Okay, for instance, Camping, Backpacking, Bird Study, Cooking, Fishing, and Fly Fishing could all be worked on at the same basic time. It was based on my own merit badge grouping that I''d made up to try and maximize badge collection.


    There was now also a Slack element to the site. Darryl had made it so that boys could contact the merit badge counselors through the site, rather than having to specifically create meet-ups with them, or hope they remembered how to use Discord and arrange time. Instead, you could communicate quickly and effortlessly through the site, and even post videos of your completion of tasks. If I was tracking this properly, the boys were devouring new badges now. That wasn''t me, though, it was Darryl behind it, getting easier access to the information and the ability to complete tasks through a less complicated interface than attempting to do things the traditional way.


    Then I noticed the notifications tab, and I had new notifications for the site. Clicking, a bunch of merit badges had been signed off on, and I clicked over to see what it was. All of my citizenship badges had been signed off, along with Communications, Public Health, Public Speaking, and Salesmanship. I didn''t remember setting up any of those for work, but I checked the sign-offs... Mr. Tsumpti. He''d joined the site and signed off on a range of my merit badges, things I had inadvertently completed without considering them. Meanwhile, Darryl had closed out my physical badges for the counselors, linking them to my various streams and videos of my workouts and my explaining my workouts, so in came badges like Personal Fitness, Athletics, Cycling, Climbing, and Sports. He''d also put forward my work on our little mobile games for things like Game Design, and others were adding up, like Textiles, Woodworking, and Drafting for my making of the tents and designs for the chuck boxes... Jesus, that next Court of Honor was going to be insane when it came time for badge awards, especially with all the stuff I was working on this weekend. Oh... I was gonna have to spend so much time sewing badges. Pretty sure I just secured Life Scout at the very least. I would need to start considering what my Eagle Scout service project would be.


    As we drove along, I tried calling Anna to check on things, "Hey Anna. Was wondering how things are going back in Portland?"


    Anna didn''t even hesitate, "Everything''s being handled, Marcus. I''ll talk to you when you get back, and you can tell me all about the trip."


    And she hung up. So, I called Dad, "Hey Dad, how''re things going on your end?"


    Again, a lack of hesitation in response, "Everything''s being handled, Marcus. Talk to you when you get back, okay?"


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    And he hung up. I called Mom, Mackenzie, Miguel, Fred, and even Darryl and Brad. Every one of them was a two-sentence reply that everything was being handled and that they''d talk when I got back. Finally, I talked with Merida. Yeah, she''s young, but she wheedles, and she''s definitely heard stuff. No Luck, "Mom says everything''s being handled, Mark. Can I have a baby deer?"


    "Hon, if I take a baby deer, their mom''ll be really upset."


    They were handling me, and wouldn''t let me know what was happening in Portland. Finally, I called Aimee, and while she wouldn''t talk about Portland stuff either, we did talk for a while. They''d gotten to her, that much was evident, but had left me regular girlfriend conversations. How thoughtful. We did, however, get interrupted by her dad, who wanted to ask me if I would be willing to trade him some steak when I got back. I assured him I would, and hung up. Mr. Bethel finally let out a held laugh, "Reminds me of the first time me and the wife left Tom home with the babysitter. Look, you laid out your plan?"


    I nodded, "Yes."


    "And you trust all of them?"


    And there it was, "And I should trust them to get their jobs done for a weekend."


    He slapped the steering wheel, "There we go! Now we''re cooking with bear grease!"


    You know, I''ve never been sure if he means bear or bare when he says that, and I''d ask, but... there''s an outside chance I don''t want the answer. So instead, I focused on checking the map, chatting idly while I found the most up-to-date information on the hunting region we were going to. As hunting season ran along, the deer would change area, avoiding the predators, so with hunting season up and running, it was a matter of tracking to where they were going to be more than where the herds were right this second. Hunters were posting their kills, chatting with each other about where they''d bagged their kills, and arguments over who had the best deer call were legion. Following that track, I started listening to live deer calls. There were also warnings of cougars, with open hunting season on them year-round.


    Suddenly, we pulled off, and I almost asked, but we were at a Cabela''s, so the reason for the stop was pretty obvious. Mr. Bethel wanted me to practice before we got to the site, to make sure I had the basics down. We went in, and I had a look around. Much as I respected Mr. Bethel being willing to let me use his firearms, I wanted my own equipment. The store was fully geared out for hunting season, and it was pretty lively. Much as folks tended to write off Oregon as being the ultimate bastion of liberal ideology, we were half-redneck, and it was time to hunt and fish... and apparently, drink copious amounts of beer if the rush on coolers and advertisements were an indicator.


    I got a bunch of stuff, mainly centered around hunting versus my usual camping and hiking gear. I needed things like camo, though I did opt for the neon-orange stuff. The animals we were hunting didn''t see color, and catching a bullet in the ass was less of an issue if you were visible to the humans with guns. We got bear bangers, and then I paused, cause Reaver was curious about bows. It had been a significant weapon for its entire lifetime, but archery had changed a great deal over the centuries, and fallen out of style for warfare. Instead, they had become their own sport and were used in hunting as well.


    One of the sales associates came over. Unlike most stores that tried to have as few people on the floor as possible, Cabela''s did have a lot of employees, and at least the woman I was working with was very knowledgeable. She took me through things like draw weight, and what different weights were used for. I ended up opting for a lever action bow package, letting me shift between draw weights, but having a smoother draw curve. That would let me reset based on whatever I was hunting, and be more comfortable on repeated draws. Also, they look really cool. The saleswoman let me know that they did have an archery range on-site and that I could practice with a few different models to decide what worked best for me.


    I would need practice, so yeah, let''s do this. For me, practice is a very different concept. I started out on the lightest draw and worked my way up. I had it essentially down, but I bought accouterments to accompany it, such as targets that I could use for further practice at camp, as well as stuff for repair, maintenance, and arrows for both big and small game.


    Next up... I did purchase some firearms. I wanted to close out riflery and shotgun badges, and while I appreciated Mr. Bethel being willing to let me use his, I needed the space with my own weapons to be able to properly use my 1%. There was a short spot of bother with that purchase until the guy at the counter recognized my name, and I flashed my H.A.A. badge for ID. There are upsides to this, and... okay, look, there''s a lot of really cool things in this store, and I''m a fourteen-year-old with a near-bottomless wallet. I freely admit that the trip got away with me, and the salespeople saw me coming as soon as they realized I wasn''t asking anyone if I could purchase things.


    I had to get most of the stuff I bought sent back home, and yeah, I would definitely be having a chat with Mom and Dad about some of it, but come on, I''ve watched Mr. Bethel tool around on that ATV for years, and the one I ordered looked absolutely badass.


    Mr. Bethel put out that I needed to stop by the gun range after this, so I could practice with my new string of firearms, and make sure I had it down before we got out into the woods. We hit up the gun range, and I got my shots off. The shotgun was the biggest adjustment, with way more kick to it than the rifle and sidearm, but it wasn''t long before I had the firing down. I wasn''t sniper-qual level yet, but it was enough for a weekend of hunting and fishing. He also had me reading care and maintenance information for the rest of the ride until I could recite it in my sleep.


    We got to our location around mid-afternoon, and after pulling up the van and trailer, it was time to get things ready at the cabin. Bethel had rented out a hunting cabin near enough to the hunting ground we were using. Unfortunately, whomever had been using it before us hadn''t bothered to replace the firewood. Sigh... Let''s get to work.