《Super Villain System》


 Chapter 1: The Birthplace of Evil

    Evil.


    Where does it begin? For countless centuries, since the minds of men opened to the concept of morality, this debate has existed without a true answer. War, famine, lust and greed were all as good as any guess for the birthplace of what truly corrupted a person.


    In the ninth grade, when Luke was filled with far too much teenage confidence and an assurance that he knew better, he¡¯d debated the topic with his philosophy teacher countless times. Power, he¡¯d proposed, was the root of what turns someone to the dark side. Because people didn¡¯t do bad things until they thought they could.


    His theory might have also spawned from holding a grudge against everyone statistically more likely to develop powers, which was improbable for him because of his genes. People rarely beat such improbability, and Luke knew he would not be the next to.


    But for the price of superpowers, fame and more money than he¡¯d ever know what to do with, Luke was allowed a glimpse into the true unfettered birthplace of evil.


    Retail.


    ¡°You should be capable of bagging those items faster.¡± Susan the bringing of doom commented in front of his counter as he slid some fire-resistant candy through his scanner. ¡°I think Super-mart should have super service, don¡¯t you?¡±


    More specifically, customer service.


    Luke squeezed his facial muscles into a smile.


    ¡°That is what we pride ourselves on.¡± He laughed with the joy of a man who¡¯d just been hit by a car.


    Susan curled her face into a sly grin. By Luke¡¯s estimation, Susan was a fairly attractive woman in her mid-thirties with glowing red hair and a smile that might¡¯ve made his heart skip a beat in any other circumstance. Susan was also a soulless monster with a robotic grocery schedule that somehow always aligned with Luke''s shifts.


    Meaning there was no escape.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve seen the ad with Shockwave. God knows how this place booked him.¡± Her green eyes stared at the nametag on his apron as she paused, as if she had forgotten his name the moment she left the store last time. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to offend, but what exactly is super about you, Lukas?¡±


    My Self-control.


    Because every part of him wanted to throw the most acidic thing he could at her. Not that it would do anything, considering she was a Supe. Maybe annoy her a little bit for the price of being thrown in a maximum security prison cell. That was not a fair trade in Luke¡¯s humble opinion. So, he left his retaliation to daydreaming and just answered her verbal jab with silence.


    Humble silence. In the hopes that she wouldn¡¯t speak to him anymore.


    Luke bagged her things under Susan¡¯s watchful eyes, careful not to do anything that would give her cause to use her grating voice anymore. He rang up her groceries and gave her the bags with just a smidge of hope that she might stay quiet.


    He was wrong.


    ¡°You should use some customer service next time, Lukas. No small talk, no efficiency and even no compliments. You¡¯re not very good at your job, are you?¡± She laughed with her bags in hand, grinning at him as if she¡¯d said the funniest thing.


    Reggie was behind her. He could see his manager had stopped dead in his tracks out of the diary section, somehow sensing the situation unravelling before him. Luke could see him mouthing to just ¡°smile and agree¡± like their company policy expected.


    ¡°I-¡± WANT TO WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR NECK TILL YOUR HEAD PO-


    He bit his tongue. Susan would probably turn him to ash if he said that. Something tamer.


    ¡°I¡¯m-¡± GOING TO SHOVE A FIRE EXTINGUISHER DOWN YOUR THROAT AND-


    Still too much.


    ¡°You¡¯re-¡± An Awful Superhero who¡¯s on a publicity restriction for burning down a school bus and maiming the driver during a skirmish. ¡°-Probably right,¡± Luke uttered, clutching his plastic scanner so hard he could feel the thing crumpling.


    ¡°I¡¯m a superhero, hon. We always are.¡± Susan said with a swing of her hair, gleaming with such self-righteousness that Luke started to feel dizzy.


    He said a small prayer to the gods above after she left, then twiddled his thumbs waiting for another customer who never came. That wasn¡¯t an uncommon occurrence in a place like Super-Mart. A grocery store that catered towards superheroes and their unique dietary needs was already a niche, and with today¡¯s happenings, that small number of clientele dwindled even further.


    Until Luke was left resorting to all the chewing gums displayed next to his register, with flavours from frost frenzy to dimensional displacement.


    By the fifteenth reshuffle, Luke found himself questioning how he had ended up at a place like this. The answer was pretty obvious; as Susan had said, Luke wasn¡¯t super. He was just a regular, slightly depressed twenty-two-year-old trying to manage his younger self¡¯s delusions of grandeur.


    And the disappointment that came with not being special in the slightest.


    I should just go pretend to take inventory in the back. I could read the new Gamma issue on my phone if the cameras are still busted-


    ¡°Hey, buddy!¡±


    Luke almost jumped as his manager popped up behind his counter. He was so lost in thought that he barely even registered the man¡¯s presence.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± The cashier asked.


    ¡°Just wanted to pat you on the back for handling the more difficult customers with class like always,¡± Reggie said, tossing him a packet of super gummy bears. They were flavoured after only the most popular Supes.


    Luke caught the packet and popped it open, throwing the sweet sugar-filled contents in his mouth. ¡°Thanks. I *chew* do my best.¡±


    ¡°Got any plans for Bright?¡± Reggie asked, leaning over the counter and looking out towards the street.


    Luke joined him, gazing out into the street, which was filled to the brim with daylight and people enjoying the once-a-month occasion. It was strange to think that before the war, this special occasion was an everyday occurrence. Even stranger to think that his parents had lived in that time themselves, waking up every day to the bright sun instead of a dim replica.


    That was a thing of the past now. A relic from a time before the arrival of the Echoes. Before the time of war.  Days didn¡¯t share that same exuberant brightness, but a dim shine of dawn all the way till dusk, followed by the darkness of night. The entire Federation of Man was treated to only one truly sunny day a month, perhaps a final cruelty from an old enemy of humanity.


    Maybe just a byproduct of war.


    ¡°I might go to Project Prodigy,¡± Luke mumbled, knowing he wouldn¡¯t have the time. The convention was already well underway, and he wouldn¡¯t make it in time unless he left now.


    ¡°That¡¯ll be closed by the time you finish,¡± Reggie commented, echoing his thoughts.


    Luke shrugged.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll just watch TV and go to bed. Gotta be back here tomorrow early anyway.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you want to take your girlfriend on a date?¡± Reggie asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t have one.¡±


    ¡°Go to the festival with your friends?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t have those either.¡±


    ¡°What about family?¡±


    Luke leaned against the counter, not exactly enjoying the barrage of questions. ¡°I¡¯ve got a sister, but she¡¯s busy.¡±


    And hates my guts. He kept that part to himself. His falling out with his last living relative was not his finest moment, and Luke would rather not mention it. Reggie gave him a strange look that the cashier figured passed for some sort of pity.


    Reggie had always struck Luke as a people person. The kind of extrovert that tried to worm their way into your life whether you liked it or not. Charismatic would accurately describe him, and not having powers made it easy enough for the cashier to be friendly with him. But that was it; beyond his favourite superhero, supervillain, sports team, or soda flavour, Luke didn¡¯t know him as a person.


    He tended to like it that way.


    Apparently, Reggie did not.


    His manager paused and then jogged to the alcohol section, returning with two Bitter Buzzes. He tossed one to Luke and cracked open his own.


    ¡°Are we¡­ allowed to drink?¡± Luke asked, keeping an eye on the camera watching them from the exit.


    ¡°Dude, this stuff¡¯s made for Supes. It gets you drunk for like fifteen minutes then drains out of your system.¡± Reggie said, waving away his concern and taking a swig.


    The part about it getting you drunk temporarily was true, at least. Federation laws prohibited the use of stimulants of any kind for Supes. If you ever tried it, you¡¯d get yourself either Cuffed or, if you were too powerful of a Supe, expelled from the Globe. E.R.A.O didn¡¯t play with that type of recklessness.


    Of course, not being a Supe, Luke was more than welcome to get as drunk as he pleased. Because he couldn¡¯t blow up buildings if he thought they were looking at him funny. Still, drinking on the job sounded like a good way to get fired.


    And he needed his job to live.


    Sooooooo¡­.


    ¡°Mind if I save it for later? Might make the fireworks a little more colourful this year.¡± Luke asked, tactfully finding an out to the strange thing they called ¡°social drinking¡±.


    ¡°Go ahead, I ain¡¯t your keeper,¡± Reggie said, unbothered.


    Luke nodded and deposited the drink in his bag. Who knew, he might have a couple of sips later. He couldn¡¯t even remember the last time he¡¯d gotten drunk. It might be a nice change of pace.


    ¡°Susan must¡¯ve been pissed to be acting like that. Has to have been because the great Meltar was in a timeout during Bright.¡± Reggie laughed.


    ¡°Probably. She was particularly prickly today.¡± Luke agreed.


    There was a reason a store aimed towards Supes, both of the villain and hero variety, was empty during Bright. While comics and television shows like to portray Supes battling it out at night where the villains had the cover of darkness, the reality was a bit less fantastic. It was estimated that 10-30% of all skirmishes between Supes were purely for marketing, and those were the numbers released onto the internet.


    The truth was probably much higher. That wasn¡¯t to say that Supes didn¡¯t legitimately scrap with each other over turf, crimes or trade off the official duties E.R.A.O. assigned them. It was well known that no one liked government-listed jobs that involved anything outside the Globe.


    Or anything to do with the Swarm.


    ¡°Vena didn¡¯t come in today, Nathan either.¡± Reggie mused, taking another sip of his drink. ¡°Probably faking being sick to enjoy the Bright. That¡¯s what I would¡¯ve done at their age.¡±


    ¡°Smart move,¡± Luke mumbled.


    I would have done it if I wasn¡¯t paranoid about my livelihood. Not having parents made being reliable at work an easy feat to accomplish. He needed money to live, not to buy the newest prodigy-tech. Not that he held that against either of his co-workers. Different priorities for different people.


    ¡°But not diligent Luke, aye? No, you¡¯d rather hold down the fort with me.¡± Reggie joked, pulling one of the carefully organised gum packets off the rack. ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem fair.¡±


    Life isn¡¯t fair.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a big deal,¡± Luke said, keeping his more depressing opinions to himself.


    Reggie made a strange face when he heard Luke¡¯s dismissive answer, leaning over further until he was almost falling. His manager met him eye to eye, and for just a moment, Luke could¡¯ve sworn he saw static spark over Reggie¡¯s eyes. His expression had flattened to something serious, and suddenly Luke was much more aware that his manager was much taller than himself. Much better built, with a much better diet and a commitment to physical exercise Luke sorely lacked.


    Much more imposing.


    He also found that it didn¡¯t bother him in the slightest. Weird.


    ¡°Be honest, do you like working here?¡± Reggie asked, peering into his eyes as if he were looking for a lie.


    I¡¯d rather be doing anything else.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± Luke shrugged.


    ¡°Do you like your life?¡± Reggie asked, suddenly making the conversation much more personal than Luke wanted.


    My life¡­


    ¡°My life is what I make of it,¡± Luke said, briskly dodging the question.


    That made Reggie smile. Luke had only ever seen him grin, so he¡¯d never noticed just how¡­ creepy Reggie¡¯s smile was. Wide, with teeth just a little too white and just a little too straight.


    ¡°Then the question becomes diligent little Luke, don¡¯t you think you deserve a little more excitement?¡± Reggie asked slowly. Something about the way he said it made Luke feel like ants were crawling up his legs.


    ¡°I think I shouldn¡¯t answer the question,¡± Luke muttered, leaning himself away from Reggie.


    Reggie clapped his hands together, drawing back and stowing the creepy smile for his signature grin. ¡°And that¡¯s the first honest answer out of you! A smart one, too. You¡¯ve got good instincts, kid.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Luke said, feeling a small wave of relief wash over him as his manager returned to normal. Must not do well with a Buzz. That conclusion made enough sense in his head for the cashier to accept it.


    Just when Luke had thought Reggie was back to normal, the man hopped over the counter and put two stern hands on both of his shoulders, grasping them with enough strength to hurt. Luke winced, but that didn¡¯t phase Reggie in the slightest.


    ¡°First things first, let¡¯s start small! How about a day off to see the Prodigy Project, if you can make it in time!¡± His manager said with a little too much enthusiasm.


    ¡°But the store closes in two hours-¡±


    ¡°Luke.¡± Reggie interrupted him, skirting the twenty-year-old around and strapping his backpack on in a fashion that made him feel like a school kid again. ¡°I can handle anyone that comes into the store. You¡¯re young, and the youth need to live!¡±


    Not seeming to take any of Luke¡¯s flailing as a refusal, Reggie dragged him out of the store and into the Bright, sunny day full of people enjoying the once-a-month occasion. The smell of fresh street food from the corner danced across his nose and invited him forward. The omnipresent street lights Luke had grown so used to were off for a change, and the constant glow of neo advertisements around the shopping district had dulled to something much more bearable for his eyeballs.


    ¡°Now, go! Enjoy the world for a change, Luke!¡±


    Reggie left with those final words, returning to Super-Mart and leaving Luke to weave his way through the crowded walkways. Somehow, he had earned himself a day off.


    Huh.


    ¡°Today might not suck,¡± Luke whispered to himself.


    He might get to see all the newest inventions this year''s convention had to offer. That would be sweet.


    *************


    Nope, today sucks. Luke thought, face pushed into the dirty asphalt of an alleyway. A boot pressed on the back of his head, making it difficult to breathe. Something sharp and pointy pressed against his back, warning against any resistance. Not that Luke was going to resist to begin with.


    Anyone who wasn¡¯t an idiot had full coverage Bright insurance for moments like this.


    To think, not even five minutes ago, he¡¯d been happily chugging along on his electric moped, lazily following the directions on his phone. Minding his own business and dreaming about buying one of those brand new Prodigy Aerobikes plastered all over advertisements since the last Prodigy Project. The convention drew a lot of eyes purely from the prestige of it.


    It had been where M.A.D., a scientist supervillain, unveiled his Magni-guns by holding everyone hostage. Excellent marketing.


    But no, for whatever reason, his maps had decided to all of sudden reroute him down a few back alleys only accessible for two-wheel vehicles. Luke should¡¯ve known. He really should¡¯ve guessed something was off about it, but a massive crash causing traffic during Bright of all times was believable enough.


    Not some jacked prodigy-tech that interfered with directional programs and lured unsuspecting victims like himself into them.


    But that is exactly what happened, and his back still ached from the pain of being thrown off his moped.


    Thank god that thing can barely crack forty¡­ For once, the cashier was thankful his only mode of transport was a piece of shit.


    The boot on the back of his pushed a little harder.


    ¡°Tell me, human! Are you afraid of Shrapnel?¡± A muffled voice asked, sounding less like a thug and more like a teenager.


    I might be afraid if you hadn¡¯t taken three minutes to set up a tripod after you tied me up. The whole experience was surreal to Luke. He¡¯d been robbed before by actual thugs, but they were quick and discreet about it.


    Instead, Luke was being pressed into the ground in an alley that wasn¡¯t dark or discreet by what looked to be a teenager dressed in black rags. Maybe they were clothes, but they were so drapey and unintimidating that Luke didn¡¯t want to dignify them as such. Perhaps the worst offender, other than the idiot recording himself, was the fact that they were right next to a residential area.


    Luke could see houses past the brick sides of the alley. All nice and proper looking.


    So no, despite being actively pressed into the ground and having a sword-like arm pressed into his back, Luke wasn¡¯t very scared.


    But that fact would probably make this whole thing take longer than it needed.


    Soooooooo¡­.


    ¡°Oh no, the horror. The pain.¡± Luke said, voice muffled slightly by his mouth halfway into asphalt. ¡°Please don¡¯t hurt me, Shrapnel.¡±


    He made sure to say the last part as dramatically as he could. Shrapnel wasn¡¯t such a bad first shot at picking a villain name, but there were better options. Perhaps with a couple of years down his belt, he¡¯d be somewhat spooky. But talking in the third person wasn¡¯t helping.


    ¡°Shrapnel is a fair evil. A fair villain.¡± Craning his neck up slightly, Luke could see the muffled rags over his face aiming towards the camera not five metres away from them, talking more to it than him. ¡°But for the price of your life, human, I expect equal reward.¡±


    Need to stop saying human like that¡­ It¡¯s going to alienate people. Luke kept the advice to himself as the boot finally stepped off of his head, letting him roll to the side and breathe freely. A bundle of rope still restricted his arms and legs from doing any more than flopping, but they weren¡¯t nearly tight enough to hurt. Just a slight discomfort.


    Maybe a rash. The real pain was the numbing ache in his back.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    For the first time, he got a good look at his attacker, and Luke wasn¡¯t that impressed. One of his arms had morphed into a shiny silver blade, no doubt part of his power, and that was fairly impressive. But besides that, the villain he assumed was a teenager looked like he was wearing a bedsheet.


    ¡°Perhaps Shrapnel should take your¡­¡± The teen started before pausing to take a good hard look at the moped he had knocked him off of.


    ¡°It¡¯s a moped,¡± Luke said flatly.


    ¡°Take your super moped as compensation!¡± Shrapnel said triumphantly, scathing his metallic arm across the paint and-


    ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t scratch it!¡± Luke shouted, causing the living bedsheet to jump in alarm. Apparently, the small-time villain was more spooked than he was.


    Probably a bad idea to freak out the teenager with a sword arm¡­ I don''t need him getting stabby.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be worth less if you do,¡± Luke added softer, keen not to get impaled by an idiot on his first go of things.


    ¡°Right. That makes sense.¡± The villain nodded to himself, seemingly gaining a measure of confidence back before noticing the tripod red flash and gaining a little more composure. ¡°Shrapnel will be taking the keys, human!¡±


    This human thing is starting to sound a little¡­


    Luke just kept that to himself, nodding. ¡°Left back pocket, same with my wallet.¡±


    He always kept his important things in his phone case anyway, and giving the perp a little more incentive to scoot was in his best interests.


    Bedsheet went back to kneeling on top of him as he rooted through his pockets for the jingling keys and a fresh wallet. It was mildly uncomfortable but much better than a boot stamping into the back of his head. Probably the most annoying thing about it was the smell. For some reason, neither of Shrapnel''s parents had taught him to practise proper hygiene and use deodorant.


    Luke scrunched his nose, trying to keep out the smell of sweaty teenager.


    Then, a much less muffled voice whispered in his ear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll give this all back once the video ends. Sorry about the hassle. I don¡¯t have enough money to pay actors to be victims.¡± The voice cracked with a surprising amount of sincerity.


    ¡°It''s¡­¡± Luke took a moment to decide how he felt about missing out on the one thing he wanted to do today and instead being robbed. ¡°...fine.¡±


    He heard the familiar jingle of keys and a strange emptiness in his back pocket as Bedsheet looted his wallet. At least he knew now he¡¯d be getting back after Bedsheet was done with his video. Luke could hear him moving around and standing up, probably showing off his bounty to the camera.


    Once that was done, he¡¯d get all his stuff back.


    Then I can go home.


    A spark of electricity flickered across his vision. It chained between the stairwell and the ground in an arc so fast Luke¡¯s eyes barely caught it. But it was there. And then it was gone.


    What the hell was-


    A boot started pushing on the back of his head again.


    ¡°Shrapnel will let you leave with your life this time, human!¡± the teenager started, probably posing for the camera. Luke couldn¡¯t see with his head smushed into the pavement.


    Only a few more seconds. The cashier told himself, holding out hope.


    ¡°Consider yourself lucky. Soon, this city¡­ no, the whole Federation will know the name- AAARHHH!¡±


    Something bright happened. Brighter than Bright.


    Then, Luke¡¯s vision turned black.


    His senses came back to him in fragments. The first was touch, and with touch came pain. The ground was harder on his back, and Luke could feel his body seizing in sporadic motions. He could feel something foreign racing through his body, sparking his nerves and burning him. For a few seconds, that pain felt endless, like his whole body was on fire and frozen at the same moment.


    Then it dissipated, fading in mere moments like it wasn¡¯t there to begin with.


    His smell came back. Luke smelled something burning, but the smell was smothered by¡­ perfume?


    A perfume that smelled like rain.


    It felt like his brain was trying to put the things his senses were telling it back together and failing miserably. The world was still black even though he could feel his eyes blinking, and he still couldn¡¯t breathe despite feeling his lungs heaving for air.


    Am I dying?


    That was not fine. That was not fine at all.


    His heart was racing faster than when he¡¯d tried to impress Gwen Harp in track class during the eighth grade. There was a jolt. He felt something grasp around his arms on either side. Hands? They felt like hands. Maybe medical services.


    Luke tried to move, and thankfully, something good happened in this nightmare because his body still responded to him just fine. Despite a soft tug from the hands, he pushed his fingers towards his face, feeling against his eyes, hoping they were there.


    They were¡­ and slowly, the darkness filling his vision started to vanish, letting lights and colours back in. People were everywhere, and from the black dots in their arms, Luke assumed a lot of them had cameras. He could vaguely see someone dressed in a black outfit with cables all over it near his moped and¡­


    Is that Shrapnel? The teen looked like charcoal, and Luke meant that in the worst way possible. Although it was quite funny seeing the bedsheet frayed at all ends, even if it meant the proto-villain had been electrocuted.


    Electrocuted, huh? That felt like an apt reason for why he suddenly felt so shit and temporarily blacked out. There was also a woman next to him wearing the classic neon green of medical responders. She was grasping at his wrist, probably trying to check for a pulse with one hand and pushing him down with another very gently.


    She was also saying something to hear that looked from her lips like ¡°don¡¯t move¡±


    She¡¯s also really cute. Maybe he should ask for her number. When Luke tried, his tongue felt a lot heavier than normal, so whatever he was saying was probably slurred. The cashier made a mental note to ask for her number when he could speak properly.


    ¡°Ca¡­ yo¡­¡±


    As his hearing slowly started returning, the lingering pain started to subside as well, leaving a shadow of aches all over his body. Luke felt dizzy as the constant ringing in his ears was slowly drowned out by the sounds of the world around him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ Hero¡­ Saved¡­¡± The cute blonde nurse said, confusing Luke about as much as anything that had happened in the last few minutes.


    You look so cute when you''re worried for others¡­ you¡¯re a good nurse, I can tell. Luke thought. Then, the nurse paused on whatever area of his body she was checking on and blushed a little.


    Did I just say that aloud? He did feel his mouth moving.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡­ you¡­ concussed,¡± the nurse with beautiful blue assured him.


    I don¡¯t feel concussed, but my brain is kind of not working straight. It¡¯s doing loop-de-loops. Like a rollercoaster. Man, I love roller-


    Oh god, he was concussed. That was why he felt so delirious and kept noticing all the pretty features on the nurse''s face. His brain wasn¡¯t thinking properly, which left other parts of his body to think in its stead.


    He tried not to speak and just breathe, letting thoughts filter through his brain instead of his mouth as he stared up at the sky. It was dimming now, but it was still brighter than usual.


    After a few minutes of the nurse checking up on him and asking about pain in every area of his body, she let him move around and sit up straight.


    ¡°You were struck by one of Darkspark¡¯s bolts when he was combatting your attacker.¡± The nurse, Julie, informed him when he finally mustered up the energy to ask what had happened.


    ¡°And that gave me a concussion?¡± Luke asked, resting his head against the brick wall.


    ¡°No, the¡­¡± The nurse paused and looked over a Bedsheet. ¡°...Villain spasmed and shunted you into the asphalt.¡±


    Luke''s eyes were stuck to the superhero posing for the camera crew who must¡¯ve been following him around. It looked like he was either dressing down the Shrapnel or giving him life advice. Darkspark, if he recalled correctly, was a reasonably respected start-up Supe who had made his name by championing electricians'' union rights. A bit unorthodox but a savvy marketing move considering he had his own camera crew now.


    You¡¯d think he¡¯d come check on the normal dude he fried. But no, Luke was a background character in charade. He was a victim and not worth much more than a couple of insincere sympathies. What pissed him off even more was knowing that Shrapnel wasn¡¯t even a genuine threat.


    A few more seconds of discomfort for the teen''s video, and he would¡¯ve been on his way. Maybe, just maybe, he would¡¯ve been able to see the ending of Project Prodigy.


    As if on cue, the superhero looked over in his direction and started marching towards Luke. There was a certain bravado to his step that pissed Luke off far more than anything Shrapnel had done.


    ¡°How are things over here?¡± the Supe said through his coiled mask, which conveniently left his long curly brown hair exposed. ¡°I hope Julie here¡¯s been treating you well after that little shock.¡±


    He flashed a smile that was definitely more for the cameras than Luke.


    When the cashier stayed silent, Julie took it upon herself to brief the superhero.


    ¡°Besides the concussion and minor bruising, Luke¡¯s alright, but a head injury still falls under skirmish insurance. He should be sent to Hygeia, just to safe.¡±


    Luke could¡¯ve sworn he heard Darkspark click his tongue, but maybe he was still concussed because the Supe was all smiles a moment later. He seemed to take a moment to assess the situation and the cameras before offering a hand to Luke, who was still leaning against the brick wall.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get you up, Luke,¡± Darkspark said through a smile.


    It¡¯s all for him. Luke didn¡¯t consider himself a very suspicious person. Well, not a paranoid person. But he¡¯d watched the Supe game as a spectator long enough to know a lot of it was bullshit. A lot of Supes were bullshit. Case in point: Darkspark.


    He¡¯s turning me into a spectacle. Luke thought, taking the hand. Darkspark pulled him up with ease, and the cashier wobbled on his feet for a moment before he got his balance. I¡¯m just a part of his own fantasy.


    Luke didn¡¯t think like this normally. He knew that. He was normally much more¡­ optimistic about these things. Normally much more accepting. But today had gone a little too wrong, the last thirty minutes especially.


    Suddenly, all the optimism in the world wouldn¡¯t let Luke ignore people like Darkspark and how they bugged him.


    Maybe I hit my head a little too hard. He wondered as Darkspark wrapped a hand around his shoulder and faced him towards the cameramen jerry-rigging a comically big lens.


    It was all kind of funny in a way, the absurdity of it.


    And it all deeply bugged Luke.


    ¡°Just a few smiles for the camera, Luke,¡± Darkspark whispered into his ear. ¡°Then we¡¯ll get you all fixed up, champ. Might even end up with a couple thousand from insurance.¡±


    There was such a layer of condensation in the superhero¡¯s voice that it snapped Luke out of a daze he hadn¡¯t even realised he was in.


    Why am I just going along with this? Was it because Darkspark was a superhero? Had it been because Shrapnel was a villain? Did he really just heed them because they had powers? Did that somehow make them that much better than him? Suddenly, Luke knew exactly what bugged him.


    Because he wasn¡¯t bugged, he was angry.


    ¡°Can I have the keys to my moped?¡± Luke asked in the flattest voice he could manage.


    ¡°What do you-¡±


    ¡°The keys and my wallet that he stole,¡± Luke said plainly, pointing towards where Shrapnel was sulking. ¡°Can I have them back?¡±


    There was something deeply satisfying about watching Darkspark¡¯s facade grind to a halt for a moment as his brain processed that things weren¡¯t going exactly according to plan. It was like he lived in his own little world and was suddenly thrust back to the reality that people could think for themselves.


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Darkspark said after a moment, returning fluidly back to his world again. He gestured at one of the cameramen working on a microphone. ¡°Greg, the stuff that was on the kid.¡±


    Greg pulled a familiar jingling pair of keys and a wallet out of his pocket, tossing both to Darkspark, who then handed them to Luke with that fake smile on his face. Which promptly disappeared when Luke lightly pushed his arm off his shoulder and then spun on his feet, heading towards his moped. His scratched moped.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Luke said, waving the hero off as he hopped on his moped.


    ¡°Ah- where are you going?¡± Darkspark asked, a little confusion in his voice seeping through. He was still smiling, but Luke liked to imagine that behind those goggles, his eyes weren¡¯t.


    ¡°Home,¡± Luke said simply, twisting the key in the ignition.


    ¡°But don¡¯t you want to-¡±


    And before Darkspark could finish, he was off.


    That was good. Luke hadn¡¯t done much to Darkspark for being the cherry on top of his already shitty day but he had inconvenienced him. Just a little. Maybe made him slip character for a little bit on his recording.


    Which will be chopped up into only the best pieces of action and personality. Anything bad would never see the light of day. There was a reason superheroes never did anything live. Still, as Luke crawled along in traffic towards his apartment, he couldn¡¯t deny that the little act made him feel good.


    It was barely even defiance. More like just doing what I wanted. And it made another bad day just a little bit better. Maybe I should¡­ no, maybe not.


    He knew he shouldn¡¯t make a habit of pissing off people with superpowers. That wasn¡¯t good for one¡¯s health.


    *************


    ¡°Home sweet home,¡± Luke mumbled, twisting the key to his apartment door.


    The familiar sight of his one-bedroom apartment greeted him, the same as he¡¯d left it. Luke stumbled into the white walls he called home, walking past a very empty kitchen and tossing his bag onto the couch as he entered the bathroom. It had become a ritual of his to take a shower after every workday.


    Hot water hitting his face felt like a good reward after dealing with the afternoon''s events, and Luke decided to ignore the notifications on his phone until he was well and truly clean. Once he¡¯d well and truly steamed off his stress, Luke made his best attempt at shaving.


    Normal people do this in the morning. But night worked better for Luke. If he cut himself, it would heal enough by morning to not bug him. He spent more time than he¡¯d like to admit pushing his messy blonde hair out of the way of his electric shaver and being a little hypercritical of how his body looked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a tall thing.¡± Luke lied to himself. ¡°I look so skinny because I¡¯m just tall.¡±


    Not because his diet consisted of things he could heat up in a microwave. He grabbed one of those preheated meals and settled into the most comfy corner of the couch, flicking on the TV. Venus City News channel was busy interviewing a nervous-looking superhero who had the ¡°save of the day¡± this Bright.


    ¡°So you call yourself¡­ H? Like the letter?¡± Mindy Craw, the evilest anchor to ever live asked, clearly unimpressed.


    ¡°Yes, I thought of it in the heat of the moment.¡± The young woman replied, rubbing her head sheepishly.


    ¡°And does that ¡®H¡¯ stand for anything, hmmm?¡± Mindy asked, digging further.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to think it stands for hope.¡± The young lady said earnestly.


    ¡°Not ¡®Hero¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Well, no, I mean yes but-¡±


    Luke''s phone buzzed in his bag as he stuffed a mouthful of pasta into his mouth. He gulped it down and turned down the TV, not keen to see the young hero walk through the minefield that was Mindy Craw, Venus City News¡¯s anchor. A familiar name popped up with a text.


    Did you end up making it to the Prodigy Project? - from Winter ^.^


    Got robbed on the way - from Luke


    ¡°Should I feel bad for lying to Reggie after he gave me the day off?¡± Luke wondered, watching the bubbles decide what they wanted to say to him.


    When Luke said he didn¡¯t have friends, he wasn¡¯t telling a complete lie, but he wasn¡¯t telling the whole truth, either. He hadn¡¯t managed to keep any relationships he¡¯d made through school, which ended at eighteen if you didn¡¯t have money or superpowers. Sure, Luke had tried to keep those relationships going, but most people he knew diluted their friend circles to those in the same college as them.


    And since Luke wasn¡¯t going to any college, friendships slowly dwindled to none. None besides Winter, at least.


    Wat you going to do now then? Game??? - Winter ^.^


    Luke must¡¯ve been fourteen or fifteen when he stumbled upon Winter on a random superhero forum thread. He distinctly remembered only private messaging them so he could argue who was the stronger superhero between Oblivion and Finite. An odd place to bud an almost decade-long friendship, to say the least.


    But when his more real friendships had begun to fade away, Winter stayed a small buzz on his phone. Always there to talk about whatever superhero was popular or what new video game was overrated. Simple things that had nothing to do with either of their personal lives, yet a big part of what kept Luke¡¯s sanity afloat.


    He¡¯d never met Winter. He didn¡¯t know their name. Hell, he had no clue if they were a he or a she, and it didn¡¯t matter. They were his friend, and Luke valued them more than they probably knew.


    And with that said¡­


    Nah, gonna get drunk and watch reruns - From Luke


    Tonight was not the night. Too many things had gone wrong, and Luke was in a foul mood. He wasn¡¯t keen to spread that to others.


    No worries, just be careful. Don¡¯t do anything stupid like last time - Winter ^.^


    ¡°Roger that,¡± Luke said with a mock salute, dropping his phone onto the couch.


    His main priority was to forget about the day. So with that in mind, Luke stretched upwards and started walking over to his cooler-


    Wait a minute. Instead of walking over to his cooler, Luke sat back down on the couch and ripped his backpack open, retrieving a crisp can of Bitter Buzz. Despite the beating his backpack had taken today, the can was unblemished and in perfect condition.


    ¡°Prodigy creations, tough as always,¡± Luke whispered to himself, inspecting the can¡¯s description.


    It stated in big, bold letters that it was intended for Supes with above-human levels of metabolisation and was recommended in small, frequent doses. Just looking at the alcohol percentage gave Luke the shivers. But it was only one and he had already lied once to his manager who gave him a free day off.


    It wasn¡¯t Reggie¡¯s fault that it went so south. His manager had been trying to be nice. Guess this one¡¯s for you, Reggie. Luke thought, cracking the can open and having a taste. The name was correct because it was bitter as hell, but Luke hadn¡¯t expected the bubbling sensation that slid down his throat.


    How carbonated is this thing? It was like the stuff turned to foam the moment it made contact with his skin. Strange and nothing like all the regular drinks he had in his cooler. Luke sipped on his Bitter Buzz and fell deeper into his couch. His TV played reruns of superhero shows that just served as background noise to not leave Luke completely alone with his thoughts.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t judge me,¡± Luke mumbled to nobody at all. ¡°You¡¯d do the same if you¡¯d had the same day I had.¡±


    When the emptiness of his apartment didn¡¯t reply, Luke grumbled and went back to drinking. He did that sometimes. Talked out loud as if people were watching him. The cashier had thought he was going batshit crazy when he¡¯d started to make a conscious effort not to and then still kept doing it, but his doctor told him not to worry.


    A side effect of his parents being frozen in time by alien horrors beyond comprehension was a condition called FPS. Fourth-Person Syndrome. Apparently, it had to do with his genes evolving to try and comprehend the fourth dimension or something like that. Lots of big words Luke¡¯s not-so-sober brain couldn¡¯t pin together right.


    The TV kept blurring away in the background as Luke finished the can, tossing it away and sinking further into his mind than he would¡¯ve liked.


    Don¡¯t I think I deserve more excitement?


    What a dumb question.


    ¡°Of course I do!¡± Luke grumbled. ¡°But¡­ thinking I deserve something like excitement in my life is greedy, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    There were ways he could get more excitement in his life if he tried hard enough. The world wasn¡¯t boring; that was just his life. There was excitement to be found even if he didn¡¯t get the powers he always wanted. Even if he didn¡¯t have anyone to share it with. Even if it cost him more than he¡¯d be willing to part with.


    It was out there in the world. Hell, he lived in a world with superheroes. How could it not be exciting?


    This afternoon wasn¡¯t very exciting.


    Perhaps that was just a coincidence. Perhaps it was simply the disappointing reality of something as impressive as superpowers. Luke could conceptualize in his mind that the whole culture of Super-enabled heroes and villains was simply a pretext for training, funding and praising those who had the power to protect them from the Echos.


    And the Swarm.


    And every other kind of evil that lurked on the cold dead earth between Globes.


    But he couldn¡¯t say he wasn¡¯t disappointed. Because it was all so¡­ boring, even when it shouldn¡¯t have been. Creating and controlling electricity should¡¯ve been amazing, but Darkspark made it look incredibly dull. Mundane.


    Shrapnel¡­ had potential. The kid¡¯s just gotta figure out his identity. Unfortunately, he¡¯d probably just turn into another marketing slave. Money tended to sway people towards the less cool paths in life. Like being an actual supervillain.


    A real one.


    The world had real, dangerous individuals with superpowers, but none of them were flashy in the kind of way Luke had always envisioned. The real ones were more psychotic maniacs who presented danger to everyone around them. Close to what Luke wanted from a supervillain, but also just one facet of what made one great.


    ¡°A real supervillain would be cool, don¡¯t ya think?¡± Luke said wistfully. ¡°If I got held up by a guy in a suit with a big red button that might blow up the world, that would be exciting, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    But that didn¡¯t exist, and he was just talking to himself. It wasn¡¯t like the universe could hear; it wasn¡¯t like anyone could.


    Slowly, that realisation settled in Luke as the last remnants of alcohol settled in his stomach. He felt sleepy, and it was getting harder to think. All the stress from the day had caught up to him.


    Why does my life make me angry?


    Was it the boredom? Was it the lack of stimulation? Was it the constant bowing of his head towards others just because they were luckier than him? No. But also, yes. Luke felt like the slow drain of them all just kept building that anger in his heart. Again and again and again. Over and over and over.


    And when that anger had nowhere to go, it made him feel something even worse.


    Will tonight be one of those nights? The cashier wondered.


    A night where he regretted all the people he¡¯d pushed away. All the horrible things he¡¯d said to his sister when she beat the odds and he didn¡¯t. All the bad choices he¡¯d made that had left his life spiralling. Would tonight be one of those nights where the small good in his life didn¡¯t distract him from the haunting weight of the fact that he wasn¡¯t happy?


    A night where I close my eyes¡­


    ¡­And wish desperately that he didn¡¯t wake up.


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡°I just want something else,¡± Luke said quietly to himself. ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be special. I just want something else in my life. Something good. Something of my own.¡±


    An answer to the question he constantly asked himself: was it all even worth it?


    It could be a new friend, it could be a promotion. It could even be going out for a drink with Reggie and sharing something with someone. Luke didn¡¯t care.


    His eyes felt heavy. The world started to get darker.


    Luke could feel the weight of his worries slowly plunging him into sleep, but he didn¡¯t feel a need to wish for¡­ for nothing when he woke up.


    Maybe for today, I don¡¯t need to want for nothingness when I wake.


    As his consciousness fell into the recesses of sleep on his cheap couch, Luke felt one last lingering thought trail across his mindscape. A positive one. A hopeful one.


    Maybe¡­ It¡¯s okay for me to wish for more, just for today.


    Sleep took him before he could decide what he truly wanted, leaving a snoring twenty-year-old mass. Too drunk to be awoken. Even when the bubbles in his stomach started scattering in his body.


    Even when a little screen just for him popped into existence.


    [System interface loading]


    [Host¡¯s innate abilities unsuitable for {System Seven}]


    [Waiting for creator''s response]


    [Respond?]

 Prologue II: One Too Many

    [Respond?]


    A silent question that traversed reality until it arrived on the doorstep of its creator, floating in front of his eyes. A welcome curiosity. The Prodigy was well and truly fed up with his usual tasks. With a mental command, the system prompt opened into a detailed report of its problem.


    Ah. There was always a problem with the perfect plan. Always a stone in the road, however big or small.


    And this one¡¯s about the size of a mountain. And would certainly take his hyper-intelligence a moment to chew over.


    ¡°Started another side project, have you?¡± A small voice asked, emanating from the flashing screen in front of him. Spark had been modulated to bother him occasionally if he were ever in deep thought, just to make sure he wasn¡¯t being mind-fried by a Thinker.


    ¡°Something like that.¡± The Prodigy spoke in contemplation, forwarding the details of Lukas L Welter¡¯s system integration dilemma to Spark, his rusty trusty A.I. assistant.


    He could feel a slow creeping judgment from his helper as the colour of its simulacrum slowly shifted from a calm blue to a vexed pink. At least he thought pink was vexed. The Prodigy wasn¡¯t skilled enough to program complete emotional packages for his minions. Which meant they had to sort through their feelings more often than not.


    Out of curiosity, the Prodigy pulled up his own, vastly modified version of System One on the left. He ran calculation variables for the rate of successful integration and the odds of the outcome. A list of numbers rattled down his vision, quickly painting quite a ghastly picture for the lonely cashier.


    ¡­3.745% chance of brain death on integration, 1.34% chance of Echo-related psychologic collapse, 11.945% chance of instant terminal side effects, 99.9999999989887423% chance of delayed terminal side effects- okay, Great One¡¯s above I may have had a lapse in judgement. The chances that Luke would live through integration with the ability the Prodigy had gifted him were so drastically low that it almost looked intentional. But he wasn¡¯t trying to murder the young man, just give him an option in life he wouldn¡¯t possess otherwise.


    ¡°Lucky I put safety protocols in place.¡± The Prodigy mumbled. If it had forced integration, he¡¯d already be dead.


    ¡°I understand that as a human, you possess a capacity for generosity that you simply must act on, but this was reaching a little too far, even for you,¡± Spark said, dressing down its own creator. ¡°What were you thinking, giving something that interacted with the Ether to a Taken?¡±


    Spark wasn¡¯t wrong. It had been a ballsy move¡­


    But his sister had an Exodus? Her existence had been able to accept Ether into itself, creating a unique foothold on reality that she was able to exert according to her will. Superpowers, to be short about it.


    It seemed her brother did not possess the same unique constitution that allowed her to adapt to the Ether.


    ¡°Run me through it, Spark.¡± The Prodigy asked as he leaned back on his holo-chair. ¡°The description for Taken. I need to hear it again.¡±


    The lights around him turned an information white.


    ¡°Taken, as they are most commonly referred to, are a select group of individuals that were frozen in space-time during the very instant the Echos first made contact with Earth as well as their biological descendants. The why is widely speculated, but the most common and agreed-upon assumption is that for whatever reason, there exists a human gene sequence that is intolerable to Ether, the supernatural substance that now permeates the planet. The question of why they were specifically frozen in space-time is unknown, but again, it is widely assumed that their existence presented some negative effect for the Echoes'' arrival.¡±


    ¡°So Taken are Ether intolerant? Is this a known fact, Spark?¡± Prodigy asked. He knew the breakdown of why it was presumed as much, but hearing the number would help him¡­ clarify ideas.


    ¡°Evidence proves as much. Ether shrouds the majority of the world so wholly at this point that any living creature on earth is, at least a little bit, subject to its effects. The percentage of humans that have a complete Exodus, which expresses itself as powers, ranges from an average of 1.3% per year to 0.9%. However, the percentage of humans who by the age of eighteen exhibit some amorphous Ether mutation is believed to be 100%,¡± Spark explained, providing the breakdowns above in front of his eyes


    That fact was well-checked. All humans would experience some change from the Ether. They were almost always tiny, minuscule changes. But they were there, in the Ether that had implanted itself inside every person alive.


    Besides the Taken, of course.


    ¡°What is the percentage of Taken who have an Ether mutation but haven¡¯t experienced an Exodus?¡± The Prodigy asked, mulling it over.


    ¡°Zero,¡± Spark answered.


    What? He hadn¡¯t known that. The Prodigy didn¡¯t keep up with Ether mutation research, only knowing the professional basics.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± He asked. Feeling his brain tick with the formation of an idea.


    ¡°Yes. No singular mutation has ever been exhibited from a Taken.¡± Spark confirmed.


    ¡°But then what of those who had an Exodus?¡± He pushed, feeling his mind on the verge of understanding something. Exodus were different from simple mutations, but foundationally, they were formed from the same components.


    One thing was for damn certain and that was that Ether was involved in the process. The stuff was the building block of every supernatural occurrence that had ever taken place on Earth. Easy and impossible to understand, capable of seemingly bending the laws of physics on a whim. So much so that some of his more fanatic scientific brethren referred to it as Ichor, blood of the gods themselves.


    Stupid zealots. It¡¯s not even a liquid. I¡¯d barely even call it a wave because it certainly doesn¡¯t function the way a wave should. Hell, it¡¯s not even a frequency¡­ It¡¯s just there. Something you could observe the effects of only, never seeing the substance behind them.


    ¡°Of all the Taken that have exhibited physical signs of Ether intake, 100% have had an Exodus,¡± Spark said, showing fourteen different images for the fourteen different times it had happened.


    The most recent was a blonde-haired girl with yellow eyes being hit by a car in a high-speed collision and then walking it off just as confused as everyone else. A lot of people had seen this video, mainly because the Hero she¡¯d become was so popular among the Federation.


    But I¡¯d be lying if I said this was the whole reason I was interested in her brother. His current project, System Seven, would be better served on someone who already had powers, or at least a notable Ether mutation. It was technically a mutation of its own after all.


    But the Prodigy couldn¡¯t help but see a deep, plaguing desire for more in the young man, and he of all people knew what it felt like to be overshadowed by a sibling. More than that, though, Lukas showed up. His life may not have been a complete effort on his behalf, but he showed up on that Bright when he needed to, when perhaps it was most important.


    Can¡¯t believe I gave him System Seven in a can. On a whim! Reggie too¡­ The Architect had named himself that on a whim as well, and maybe it was the nostalgia of the name that had inspired him when he¡¯d imprinted fake memories in Lukas''s head. Maybe it was because the cashier reminded him of himself.


    The reason didn¡¯t matter much anymore to the Architect.


    What mattered was making sure the poor fellow didn¡¯t keel over because of Buzz Bitters.


    ¡°Spark shut down all of System Seven¡¯s primary functions besides integration.¡± The Architect instructed as his hands flicked through the integration function¡¯s presets.


    System Seven is powered by Ether. The transmutable I store it in has Ether in it. Which meant they couldn¡¯t retrieve it from Lukas and just move on. Some small amount of Ether traces had wormed their way inside him already, and more traces were every second it was within him, so the damage was already done.


    At 100% Exodus rate, he¡¯d immediately gain power. Or he¡¯d die because his body was incompatible with even the smallest amounts of Ether. Funnily enough, the integration process that would kill him if done the way it was originally designed was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. Because it was designed to segment Ether initially, it was capable of storing that Ether for a short time.


    ¡°System Seven wasn¡¯t designed as an insulated Ether battery,¡± Spark said, echoing his own thoughts.


    It was intended for the exact opposite, considering it was meant to merge with its host completely. Keeping them as separate entities and stalling the integration process, which would merge System Seven with Lukas, was an extremely short-term solution.


    ¡°For now, just have it drip-feed integration.¡± The Architect said, wondering.


    100% Exodus rate. Kept ringing in his head over and over. It felt odd that every Taken who adapted to Ether had an Exodus. It planted an idea in the Architect''s mind.


    The Quest feature is still a bit buggy. But it might get him the conditions he needed. The only problem was the feature responded to desire, and the Architect couldn¡¯t force Lukas to desire anything.


    Do I just leave it in his hands then? Activate the possibility and let the young man decide his fate with his own two hands.


    He couldn¡¯t help but sigh. How it all spiralled so far out of control so quickly was beyond him. After a moment of thought, the Architect made his decision.


    ¡°Fuck it.¡±


    **************


    How many did I have last night? Luke wondered as he parked his moped, grasping his head as if it would settle his dizziness.


    The cashier had woken up with a splitting headache and a constant ache. It felt like he was sick, but he wasn¡¯t sneezing or coughing. It meant he just had a hangover. He didn¡¯t remember actually drinking. He remembered only fragments from the past twenty-four hours, but he tried not to worry about it.  It was probably just the alcohol killing his brain cells too fast.


    At least his drunk self had done him the favour of disposing of all the cans before he¡¯d crashed on the couch.


    ¡°Not like the boss will let me off because I got smashed, right guys?¡± Luke laughed, motioning to the¡­ empty parking lot.


    Apparently, hangovers make FPS worse. Luke groaned internally, finding it far easier to talk aloud as if other people were watching him when they weren¡¯t. Sometimes, there were flashes in his vision too, as if someone''s screen was inches away from his eye. No doubt a lingering side effect of getting electrocuted is that he¡¯d have to go get checked out.


    I should¡¯ve gotten the insurance. But no, he had to make a statement to himself and mildly inconvenience a super-powered millionaire.


    Luke grumbled about how he hated his life as he donned his Super-mart apron and strolled into the grocery store. He prayed the moment he entered the store that they wouldn¡¯t be understaffed because he needed a break from the registers and people.


    The store was busy, loaded with the usual catalogue of undercover heroes and villains. Bright made it so all the customers of yesterday rolled over into today, and by the looks of his rushing coworkers, that was a very stressful fact.


    Luke made his way towards the back, slipping past women who looked a little too much like a spider and a mechanical golem who had a taste for hot dogs. He could see his fellow company minion Vena grappling with the swarm of customers who all expected super service.


    He offered her a wave of sympathy on his way to the breakroom.


    ¡°Luke!¡± Vena shouted at him, waving back. ¡°Nathan wants to see you. Head¡¯s up, he looked real pissed.¡±


    Great. It probably had something to do with knocking off inventory. Bitter Buzz''s weren¡¯t exactly cheap. Luke tried to keep a positive expression as he slid past customers to get to the breakroom. Super-mart''s breakroom was about as super as Luke, with a plastic grey table, a couple of foldable chairs, a barely working coffee machine and a kettle that Luke didn¡¯t dare to use because he was convinced it was going to explode.


    He didn¡¯t see Nathan, so the manager must¡¯ve been in the bathroom. Luke knew not to punch a gift horse in the mouth, shoving all the tools he needed for stocking shelves into his apron as fast as he could.


    The cashier heard the bathroom door swing open just as he was about to make a break for it.


    ¡°Luke! Just the man I wanted to see.¡± Nathan said, catching the cashier just before he could escape. ¡°Listen, you mind sitting down with me for a minute? Just got some things about yesterday that I need to talk to you about.¡±


    Excuse time.


    ¡°I¡¯d love to, but with how busy we are, someone should run stock before they start complaining,¡± Luke said, pleading inwardly that Nathan would just let him off the hook. Your manager wanting to talk to you was never a good thing, in Luke¡¯s experience.


    His smile dropped when Nathan kept sitting on one of the folding chairs, waiting for him.


    ¡°Fred and Yusef are running stock already. I¡¯ll need you to register today, but that can wait a bit.¡± Nathan repeated, motioning to the chair across from him.


    Luke could feel his headache get just that little bit worse, but there was nothing to be done about it. He planted himself on the shitty foldable chair that made his backside numb and prepared for whatever scolding was coming his way.


    Maybe it¡¯s a promotion. The cashier scoffed at the stray positive thought. Nathan seemed relaxed enough, so he wasn¡¯t getting fired. That was an actual positive to think about.


    ¡°First off, I¡¯d just like to thank you for actually coming in on a Bright like yesterday.¡± Nathan prefaced, showing the good before the bad. ¡°You have no idea how many people just ignored my phone calls, I promise I was trying to get you more help holding down the store.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Luke said, finding the sympathy appreciated but not necessary. Him and-


    ¡°Argh.¡± The cashier clutched his head and let out a groan.


    It felt like ants were crawling across his brain, nipping at its edges. The pain was sharp and sudden and dissipated almost instantly after it came. But the uncomfortable sensation of something seeping into his head stayed. It felt like there was water leaking through his skull. The aching sensation across his body from the hangover only magnified it. It took a few moments before that disappeared as well.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Nathan asked, looking a little concerned.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Luke confirmed, trying to shake off the numbness in his fingertips.


    Okay, that was weird. He¡¯d never got numbness in his limbs from a hangover, and Luke had some pretty hard ragers in his youth. His paranoia demanded he go to the doctor as quickly as he could, but Luke would have to leave it till after work, especially if Nathan was upset with him as he suspected.


    What bothered him more was how it had started to hurt worse when he tried to think of¡­


    Yesterday. Working yesterday.


    ¡°That''s good to hear because I wanted to talk to you about some things that happened yesterday,¡± Nathan said.


    The older man pulled out a tablet and put it on the table. The black screen had Super-mart engraved into the top of it, which probably meant it was proprietary tech from the Prodigy that owned Super-mart. He pressed a few buttons on the screen, and a video feed opened, showing the camera that watched directly outside the front of the store. In the morning.


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


    ¡°There are cameras set through this entire store, set to record 24/7 and monitored by a private security company,¡± Nathan explained, speeding the video from 0.00 to 12.34 where Luke saw himself strolling into the store. After he saw himself push the side door open and walk inside, the video cut off.


    ¡°I see¡­¡± Luke said, a little confused by why Nathan was showing him this.


    ¡°What you just watched is the only footage recorded yesterday. All the other feeds were completely corrupted.¡± Nathan explained further, his expression starting to crumple. The older man always tried to keep a calm and in-control demeanour, but everyone in the store knew he liked to run a tight-ship, as he would call it. Anything out of place quickly pissed him off.


    Luke put his hands up, expecting the obvious allegation. ¡°I didn¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you did it as of yet.¡± Nathan interrupted, not looking any happier. ¡°The security company came to check the cameras today, and they are all working fine. The reason I needed to talk to you is because I need to know what happened yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Wel,l I¡­¡± Luke started¡­ his mind turning black as soon as he thought of something that felt so simple. ¡°...I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Nathan asked, annoyance seeping into his voice as he tapped his pen against the bench.


    Luke scratched his head, thinking. He decided to be honest. ¡°I remember leaving early, and that¡¯s it. Someone¡­ someone else closed the store, so maybe it was them.¡±


    Nathan gave him a strange look. It might have been suspicion. It might have been confusion. It was probably a mixture of both.


    ¡°Luke, there wasn¡¯t anyone else in the store yesterday. It was just you.¡±


    He was right. Luke knew he was right. He¡¯d looked at the roster in the morning before coming to work. He could remember that. There was no one but him scheduled. He¡¯d gotten a good luck text from Nathan about it in the morning. But¡­


    I know there was someone else in the- oh. Oh, that bastard.


    ¡°I think a Supe might¡¯ve been in the store.¡± Luke blurted out, drawing Nathan''s full attention. ¡°Was anything stolen?¡±


    ¡°No. All the money we have on hand is safe, and anything valuable is still here. Even the inventory seems spotless.¡± Nathan said. ¡°Why do you think it was a Supe?¡±


    Because there''s a giant black hole in my head that hurts every time I think about it.


    ¡°Because I know there was someone else, but I can¡¯t remember anything about them,¡± Luke said, seeing the thoughts churn in Nathan¡¯s head before he caught on.


    ¡°A Thinker?¡± Nathan mumbled before leaning back in his seat and grabbing his face. ¡°Oh god, why me? That would complicate things so much. If it is, we¡¯d have to involve E.R.A.O.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to undergo a full mental and psychological evaluation, wouldn¡¯t I?¡± Luke asked, knowing how hard the government cracked down on anything to do with Thinkers. Because it only ever took one bad Thinker for shit to hit the fan.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Nathan answered, sounding just as uninterested in dealing with the entire ordeal that would become as Luke. ¡°You feel any sudden urges to commit homicide or any other crime this morning?¡±


    Luke shook his head. He felt¡­ like himself, which wasn¡¯t something most Thinker victims could boast. Then again, he might¡¯ve been programmed to think he was acting like himself. Suddenly, the cashier felt even shorter of breath. He really, really didn¡¯t like the idea of someone messing with his head.


    And with every passing second, he was more and more sure that was exactly what had happened. There was something deeply terrifying to Luke about the thought of someone altering his autonomy. He already lived in a world that dictated a lot of what he could and could not do. The idea that a person could control his thoughts and the way he thought, or the way he felt, or the way people felt about him disgusted the cashier.


    Luke felt his hair standing on end. There must¡¯ve been a grimace painted across his face as the possibilities of what a Thinker could do to him weaved together with his natural paranoia.


    ¡°Luke!¡± Nathan shouted, snapping the cashier out of his overthinking momentarily. ¡°If it worries you, you can go to an E.R.A.O. hospital after your shift. They can ensure Thinker hasn¡¯t left anything dangerous in your head.¡±


    The cashier agreed with his boss. It would be much better to head to the hospital now and deal with whatever the hell had been done to him. Although he didn¡¯t want to go after his shift, he wanted to go right now. Nathan must¡¯ve figured whatever he was acting like wasn¡¯t too far off from normal, otherwise, he would¡¯ve sent him straight there.


    I should leave now. That much was obvious. The number one thing you were taught in crisis prevention classes around Supes was to never, under any circumstances, be lax with Thinkers.


    But¡­ what if Nathan held it against him?


    He was his boss, and Nathan did decide exactly how much and how little work Luke got regularly. Would he hold it against the cashier for leaving immediately? Was that¡­ wrong?


    ¡°Yeah, sure I¡¯ll do that,¡± Luke mumbled, almost out of instinct. In moments like this, it felt easier for him to comply. Working for a couple of hours before he started worrying about himself wasn¡¯t such a big ask.


    It¡¯s fine, isn¡¯t it? It wasn¡¯t. But sometimes you had to do things you didn¡¯t want to for the best of everyone. That''s what his dad always used to say. Conversation done, Luke got himself up, managing the slowly growing headache he now wasn¡¯t completely sure was a hangover and started heading towards the door.


    ¡°You can leave at lunchtime, Luke.¡± Nathan amended as he walked out the door. A little guilt must¡¯ve seeped in. ¡°I should be able to get someone in by then.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Luke said, and he didn¡¯t mean it at all.


    I just want to go home and sleep for a week.


    ************


    Thinking hurt. It hurt more when it was about yesterday. He was so sure that someone had been there that Luke felt he could almost snatch the conversation they¡¯d had out of the air with the right stray thought. But that wasn¡¯t how mind alterations worked. There was a veil in his head now that no thoughts would get past.


    His hands were numb, and his body skin felt stuffy to wear, as strange as that sounded. Luke¡¯s eyes flicked to the clock at every chance, hoping that the hour hand would start ticking as fast as the minute hand.


    Only until lunch. He kept telling himself on repeat as he went through the motions. Soon, it would be over. Soon, he could hop on his moped and speed his way to the nearest E.R.A.O hospital to get some antibiotics or a recommendation to Hygieia. A free recommendation because he didn¡¯t have the money to pay for Supe healing.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re feeling alright?¡± Vena asked for the sixth time. He was only counting because he felt it made the time go faster.


    No, it feels like my skin is about to fall off.


    ¡°Yep, totally fine,¡± Luke lied with a thumbs-up for good measure. She gave him a cheerful smile back.


    Vena was a good person. She was a little chatty and had a lot of opinions on dating, but she was always nice to Luke. He could tell she was making an effort to get more people in her line and free him up. She also hadn¡¯t taken her break yet, and he was guessing she wouldn¡¯t until he had left.


    She had nothing to do with all the negative feelings boiling up inside Luke. So it was better to just keep his mouth shut.


    ¡°Lukas.¡± A low, dreadful woman¡¯s voice said the second he looked back at his line. Which now had a familiar face at the front of it, with a trolly full of things to scan through.


    ¡°Hello, Susan,¡± Luke said in a deadpan voice, feeling just a tiny bit more of his will to live fade away.


    The cashier started to slowly and subtly grab things and scan them through, careful not to disturb the predator. She probably could only see you based on fear and movement. Something like that. Luke wasn¡¯t sure he was thinking straight anymore. His head did hurt really bad.


    ¡°I saw your face sooner than expected after yesterday,¡±  Susan said with a smug smile. She had that grin on her face that kept insults and misery behind it, insults and misery that-


    ¡°You saw me yesterday?¡± Luke asked. Of course, she¡¯d come in yesterday. She was on a public media restriction, so what better things did she have to do on Bright?


    ¡°That super service doesn¡¯t include a super memory, does it, Lukas?¡± She laughed, in a decibel that sounded like claws scratching a chalkboard. It made him feel even dizzier than he already was.


    ¡°Did you see anyone else in the store?¡± He asked, as earnestly as he could.


    In response, Susan tapped her finger against her chin, making a show of trying to think about his question before ultimately answering.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡± Luke pressed, passing a whole chicken through his smart scanner.


    Susan stared at him. She didn¡¯t scoff. She didn¡¯t grin. She didn¡¯t even give him a nasty quip. She just¡­ stared at him, with her two wide crimson eyes reflecting into his yellow ones.


    It almost looked like she was frozen in thought. Frozen stiff.


    Then she blinked, and the sparkle of doom in her returned once more.


    ¡°Why would I remember anyone in this store anyway?¡± Susan scoffed as if the very thought of acknowledging the people who served her stained her.


    Well, there goes that chance. Luke wondered why he had ever dared to put some hope in Susan. It was honestly dumb for him to expect to remember¡­ remember the other person with him yesterday. It started to hurt more every time his thoughts approached that fog in his mind. Better to just get on with the day.


    A glance at Susan¡¯s almost empty shopping trolly told him he was almost done with her anyway. Another, at the clock on the wall, said he still had about an hour left before he could leave. Almost over. Almost home.


    Just a few more things to scan, then Susan would be on her way. A packet of sub-temp soothing soup, a high protein pasta sauce and a banana that was just a bit too green-


    The banana rolled onto the scanner with a soft thud as Luke¡¯s hands twitched, losing grip on it.


    The feeling in them was gone.


    ¡°Be careful with that, Lukas!¡± Susan ordered, putting the banana into the bags herself. ¡°This stuff is basically gold nowadays.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Luke nodded, staring at his hands.


    His fingertips had been numb for a while, and that wasn¡¯t a particularly new experience. But now both his hands felt like they were just¡­ gone. He could see them still very much attached to both his arms, and he flexed them with only a thought. But he couldn¡¯t feel them.


    His heart started to beat a little faster again. The air around him was now just a little harder to breathe. Luke darted his eyes between the banana, Susan and the clock before gripping the counter to steady himself.


    He couldn¡¯t feel the metal counter either. All the sensation was gone.


    I need to go. Luke realised, maybe a little too late, as he gripped the counter as hard as he could. Just trying to feel something.


    I need to go now.


    ¡°Hey, Vena,¡± Luke said, tempted to punch the glass screen just to see if he would feel the pain. ¡°Could you come to serve this customer? I need a minute.¡±


    The world was starting to spin, just a little. Luke made sure he was tightly holding the counter as he slid past Vena, who looked very concerned. It felt like vertigo, slowly ramping higher and higher. Tiny little black spots were starting to sprout at the edges of his vision too, creeping closer.


    I should¡¯ve left earlier. It¡¯s fine.


    ¡°Do you want me to go get Nathan?¡± Vena asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. ¡°Maybe if you just wait a minute and sit-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Luke mumbled, pushing past her and towards the double-doored exit.


    Every step he took felt heavier and heavier.


    Everything is fine.


    ¡°What? Are you just leaving midway through bagging my things? What kind of service is that?¡± Susan said from behind him, staring a hole into his back.


    Luke turned to look at her and felt his whole world stop.


    ¡°Will you just fuck off for once!¡± Luke shouted in front of the whole store. It was filled with all the venom that could be mustered.


    The surrounding area was as quiet as a mouse. Susan looked a little horrified and certainly too shocked to speak. Perhaps her brain was still processing how to respond to retaliation. Luke knew for certain whatever next came out her mouth he didn¡¯t want to hear. So he tried to turn around and found¡­ he couldn¡¯t.


    His legs had gone completely numb. His skin was so warm it felt like it was on fire.


    And it felt like maggots were nesting in his brain. All of the dizziness and nausea he presumed was a hangover was rapidly mutating into pain. Pure, blood-curdling pain spread throughout his body. There was a ringing in his ears, slowly getting louder.


    The Thinker did this.


    Amidst the black spots in his vision, a small amount of light started shaping in front of him. It followed wherever his eyes went, stapled to his sight.


    Words, glowing bright red, burned themselves into his eyes.


    [Congratulations, you have unlocked the Quest function!]


    Looking at the words was like staring into the sun. It hurt. It hurt so badly.


    What''s happening to me? Luke wondered vividly, barely capable of keeping a thought together.


    ¡°Luke¡­ your¡­ nose,¡± Vena said something that sounded like that, although the cashier could barely make it out.


    He touched his nose and pulled back his hand. Red stained it.


    Blood was dripping down.


    I can¡¯t even feel any of this.


    He wobbled in place. The black spots in his vision were growing like tumours. His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier. The blinding red words were like lava.


    Luke heard someone shout as his knees buckled.


    He saw people rushing towards him.


    But he was rushing towards the ground faster.


    There was a thud.


    Then there was darkness.


    *************


    There was a boy.


    He wore a green sweater and shorts with Christmas trees on them, hair as yellow as the sun his mother had told him about at bedtime. He sat on an island of grass that smelled like his father on the weekends. Like a freshly mowed lawn. His legs dangled over the edge of the floating island. An abyss loomed beneath him, although the boy didn¡¯t feel the need to fear it.


    The sea of darkness felt familiar.


    There was a tree behind him, shadowing over the great dark sky full of pretty lights. Its branches extended far out above him, filled to the brim with thick leaves of a bright red. When the boy looked high above him, he could see those pretty leaves catch the dripping starlight that fell from the dark sky above.


    Why do you catch all those pretty lights? The boy asked.


    To protect you. The tree answered.


    The boy didn¡¯t understand. The starlight was so pretty; how could it hurt him? Then he looked closer. The starlight stole the colour out of the leaves it touched, rendering them a shadow of their former selves. There were glowing lines in the tree trunk that grew brighter every time a droplet of starlight rained on it.


    It looked painful.


    Why do you protect me? Said the boy.


    It is my purpose. The tree replied simply.


    The boy pondered on that. The tree was there to protect him. That was its purpose. It was a good purpose. A kind one. Not the kind that deserved to suffer under starlight.


    Can I help you? Asked the boy.


    The boy saw the tree shudder for a moment. If ever so slightly.


    Is that your purpose? The tree asked.


    The boy shook his head.


    It is my wish. The boy said instead.


    Roots as big as twice as big as the boy¡¯s arms and many times longer twisted out from the ground around him. The great tree offered one of those roots to the boy, with a string of glowing silver stardust dripping down its edge. The boy looked at the root offered and the line attached to its end.


    Then, at the sea of swarming darkness beneath his dangling feet.


    An idea clicked into place.


    Do you want me to cast the line into the dark? The boy asked.


    The thing that sleeps beneath the sea won¡¯t answer your call. The tree answered.


    So, I have to catch it? The boy tried to clarify.


    The great tree didn¡¯t answer, remaining silent even when the boy took it upon himself to snap the rod off. If it caused the tree any pain, it didn¡¯t show it.


    The rod was heavy in the boy''s hands, and the line that dangled off its edge scared him. The silver starlight glimmered like fire, and something intrinsic about it felt unnatural to the boy. Unwanted. He felt that if he let it touch him, he¡¯d burn.


    Careful under the tree¡¯s watchful gaze, the boy reeled the rod back with all the strength he could muster, then cast the starlight line into the darkness. The silver line seemed to stretch forever off the end of his rod until it finally crashed in the shifting darkness.


    Subtle vibrations shivered up the line, but the boy kept a firm grip.


    The boy knew he had to be careful.


    There was something under the sea, tasting the edge of his line.


    A second of confusion. A single momentarily lapse of judgment. That would be all it took for the thing to steal the rod from his hands.


    ¡°How do I know when to pull?¡± The boy asked, staring into the swarming darkness.


    ¡°You don¡¯t.¡± The tree responded, sounding pained.


    ¡°Then what is this meant for?¡± The boy said, confused.


    ¡°The line isn¡¯t for you. It¡¯s for them. This way, they can see you. This way, your soul might resonate with theirs.¡± The tree answered.


    ¡°Why?¡± The boy questioned.


    ¡°Because you weren¡¯t made for the stars. Your self will shatter if you stay here much longer.¡± The tree said with a sad note. ¡°Your only salvation lies down there.¡±


    ¡°In the darkness." The boy mumbled, unsure. The abyss felt familiar, not safe.


    There was a loud creaking above the boy, and he looked up, seeing the great tree grow further around him. Its roots extended out, curling around him and creating an enclave of oak. An ambient feeling of desperate encouragement spread through the roots, reaching the boy as the tree embraced him.


    ¡°Catch one, boy.¡± The tree advised. ¡°You will not drown in the dark. But you will burn in the light.¡±


    The boy nodded, giving more attention to his task.


    He would not miss his chance.


    Not for¡­


    ¡°What was the beeping sound?¡± The boy asked.


    Before his dream could answer, consciousness found him.

 Prologue III: Breaking Point

    Luke blinked his sleep-filled eyes awake.


    His vision shifted from stars and darkness to something much more mundane. White walls and phosphorate light surrounded him, along with beeping machinery. The smell of disinfectant drowned out all other aroma. Dusk light shined in from the window, painting the whole room in an amber room.


    The whole hospital room.


    I feel numb.


    The softness of the sheets on his bed and the small itch from the tube sticking out his forearm were the only sensations he could register. Everything else felt distant like a thin wrap of plastic was separating his body from the world. Nothing like the nausea he felt before he collapsed.


    It¡¯s hard to remember.


    His head felt groggy. Shrouded. If Luke had to take a guess he¡¯d blame whatever painkiller medication was making the whole world feel distant. He remembered falling. He remembered being stressed about something. Something rather¡­


    ¡°..The Thinker,¡± Luke mumbled, touching his head instinctually.


    That had been the most prominent thing on his mind before he had his little medical emergency. What had even happened? What felt like a bad hangover for hours had turned into more like a seizure in minutes. Luke had never experienced anything like he had felt in those final few moments. It felt like he had been poisoned.


    The hallucinations towards his collapse felt the easiest to explain. That was the domain of Thinkers, in the mind. Luke did not doubt that he¡¯d met one yesterday and that they had planted whatever those red words were in his head. Everything was lining up too smoothly.


    But then the question became, was what happened an attempt at his life?


    Even Luke¡¯s foggy brain tensed at the thought. Stressed was one word to describe what he felt. Scared might¡¯ve been more accurate.


    The cashier laid back on the soft sheets, staring at the ceiling, pondering. He was safe, at least for the moment. Only idiots attacked hospitals.


    Why does this stuff keep happening to me? Luke was going on a string on very unlucky days. And for some reason, he felt like it was only going to continue. Whatever. If he just kept his head down everything should blow over. Everything he needed from the hospital would be covered by his job. One of the few benefits of working at Super-mart. The doctors would do their job, he would get better and probably get a stipend for a therapist.


    He really, really needed one.


    Speaking of doctors, where are they? He lowered his head, scanning the room for any sign of a clipboard carrying lab coats-


    Luke felt his face scrunch in annoyance.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Luke said, staring at the figure idly playing with her phone in the corner.


    If his baseball jacket or his baseball cap didn¡¯t give her away immediately, their shared blonde hair and her complete contempt, when she looked back at him, would¡¯ve. Lucy only gave him a few seconds of attention before going back to her phone.


    ¡°Emergency contact, dude.¡± She said, gesturing to the room around them. ¡°Your emergency equals us being forced into the same room.¡±


    It was the same as he remembered. Half a year and zero had changed about her. Lucy still turned everything into his fault.


    What kind of sister would she be if she didn¡¯t?


    That window looks really nice right about now. Luke resisted the urge. Jumping several stories was just ever so worse than dealing with his sister.


    ¡°My apologies for collapsing at work,¡± Luke grumbled with as much sarcasm as he could muster. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to inconvenience you.¡±


    His sister just shrugged.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Mum and Dad would be mad at me if I didn¡¯t show up.¡± She said, unbothered by his sarcasm.


    ¡°Mum and Dad are dead,¡± Luke said flatly. He did not wish to have this argument again.


    Lucy paused and there was a silence between them. A deep, distant silence.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you want to think,¡± Lucy whispered, staring intensely at her phone and whatever game she rapidly tapped.


    Let''s go find the doctor. In a different room. Luke thought, lifting his feet to check his legs still worked. They did, appearing from the sheets and looking close enough to what they had in the morning. Maybe a little paler but nothing to worry about. With a strong swing of the moment and his hips, he managed to swing both legs over.


    His feet felt cold against the hospital but were more than capable of supporting the weight he put on them. That was good. At least he could walk around and away from the annoying superhero who didn¡¯t know how to mind her own business.


    ¡°The doctor said it was best if I didn¡¯t move around.¡± Lucy chirped from behind her phone.


    It''s a good thing the doctor¡¯s not here. The numbness made standing up a bit odd. He could balance his feet, but he could barely feel them. Only the cold floor gave his body any sensation. Luke stepped forward past the bed, briefly caught staring at the dusk sky and the neon city lights flaring to life outside.


    He wasn¡¯t used to being in the city centre when the lights started waking up. It was pretty. To say the least. While he was no fan of the advertisements shoved down people''s faces the colour had a certain beauty to it.


    All those colours blended reminded him of the dream.


    The dream. His dream. The one with a whole lot of blinding lights trying to burn him to death. Calling it weird was probably downplaying it. Luke had explored many strange dreams in his life but that dream was weird. All of it felt so real. So vibrant.


    And the tree, it felt so familiar. So-


    [Congratulations, you have unlocked the Quest function!]


    Luke grabbed at his eyes as they burned for a brief moment, blinking them open only to see glowing red words floating in front of his face. The same ones he vaguely recalled hallucinating before just before he passed out. Only this time it didn¡¯t make him collapse.


    Only wobble.


    ¡°You sure you¡¯re healthy enough to walk,¡± Lucy asked, eyeing his shaky legs.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think my legs are the unhealthy part,¡± Luke said, half to her and half to himself, gazing at the glowing red words.


    They hovered in the air, about a metre from him, hanging over the hazard disposal. Luke''s eyes wandered towards Lucy, studying her for a moment. She didn¡¯t even glance at the words hanging in the air. He felt an urge to ask but held his tongue. His sister would freak out if she heard he was seeing things.


    Things that Luke wasn¡¯t sure were there.


    I wonder¡­


    The cashier reached out towards them, pressing his fingertips against them. Tiny jolts of something rumbled back through them, involuntarily causing his finger to twitch. Then the words fizzled out of existence. There was no warning or sound, his touch simply evaporated them like they were nothing.


    Are they real¡­ or am I that far over the edge?


    His eyes started to burn, just a little bit this time as new words engraved themselves into the air.


    [Error: Quest function requires fully matured Causal Roots]


    [Remedy: Principality must be established for Casual Roots form]


    [Error: Principality unclear]


    ¡°Hey, Loony,¡± Luke said as his mind wandered. ¡°Do you know what a Principality is?¡±


    His sister''s head turned fully this time hearing her nickname.


    ¡°As in the kingdom kind?¡± Lucy asked, seemingly curious about Luke¡¯s dilemma. ¡°Or the deity kind?¡±


    I hope neither. Because he did not have any sort of kingdom and he was most certainly not a deity.


    I am, however, most definitely insane. FPS was just the appetiser and this is the full-course meal.


    The door behind him slid open before he could contemplate that thought further, giving way to an older gentleman. He wore a fancy shirt and tie with a white coat over it and shoes that looked expensive to Luke. What stood out more than that or his greying head of hair were the deep bags under his eyes. Tiny pits where sleep went to die its final death.


    The doctor waved at the two of them and shifted past Luke carefully, plucking a clipboard left on the bench next to the bed. He scanned it in silence then turned to them, noticeably apprehensive to look in his sister¡¯s direction.


    ¡°Dr Lee.¡± The older man said, extending a hand to Luke.


    ¡°Luke Welter.¡± The cashier replied, taking the hand.


    ¡°Yes, I know. It caused quite a stir downstairs when Cure-Re-Gen¡¯s very own twin brother was wheeled in.¡± Dr Lee said with a smile, refusing to look in Lucy¡¯s direction. ¡°You''re a curious case, that¡¯s for sure. But I still don¡¯t think standing is the best idea.¡±


    Dr Lee gestured towards the bed and Luke heeded the doctor¡¯s order, scooting his butt onto the bed. The glowing red words didn¡¯t follow him as he moved away from them, hovering where they were behind the wall and Dr¡¯s head.


    Are they static? Luke wondered, before catching himself. Giving depth to delusion was not the thing to do.


    ¡°Did something on the wall catch your interest?¡± Dr Lee asked, catching him staring at what must¡¯ve been a blank wall to everyone else.


    ¡°My mind¡¯s just wandering.¡± Luke deflected, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.


    ¡°Yes, I can imagine why. I¡¯m sure it must¡¯ve been confronting waking up in a hospital.¡± Dr Lee nodded, scribbling something onto the clipboard. ¡°Now, firstly I¡¯d like to give you the good news.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s bad news?¡± Lucy asked from the side, peaking her head up from her phone. ¡°I thought you said he¡¯d be fine after the transfusion?¡±


    ¡°Transfusion?¡± Luke asked, equally as confused although for separate reasons.


    The doctor looked between Luke and Lucy seemingly trying to decide which was more important to answer before replying. Funnily enough, it wasn¡¯t the Supe. ¡°Cure-R- I mean, Ms Welter makes regular blood donations because of its unique healing properties. It is helpful in stabilising cases like yours.¡±


    Luke shot Lucy a questioning look. ¡°You gave me blood?¡±


    Lucy tucked in on herself whispering something so soft the cashier could barely make it. ¡°You¡­¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you.¡± Luke pressed, more than a little curious why Lucy of all people would go out of their way to give him blood.


    ¡°You were going to die!¡± Lucy said angrily when he pressed her, sending a hateful look at both him and Dr Lee. ¡°Is it that surprising? That I don¡¯t want my brother to die. Stars above, I can¡¯t believe the same people raised us.¡± She stood towering over the doctor and standing toe to toe with Luke. ¡°Tell him what you told me, doctor. All of it.¡±


    ¡°That might be a little alarming for someone-¡±


    ¡°If I am dying I would like to hear about it right now.¡± Luke interrupted the doctor. ¡°Regardless of how alarming it might be.¡±


    How the hell am I dying? And did his sister¡¯s blood prevent that or merely delay it? Questions started to swirl in his head as paranoia infiltrated him again. The attention he¡¯d been giving to the glowing red words and what was likely the Thinker behind them evaporated. Under the threat of his life, none of that seemed very important at all.


    I¡¯ll ask about the Thinker later. It could wait if his boss hadn¡¯t already informed the medical services about it.


    The doctor glanced between them nervously for a moment then spoke. ¡°Well, your condition showed¡­ physical abnormalities. At first, we thought it was Thinker induced pertaining to what you reported to your workplace. But our resident Thinker couldn¡¯t find any sign of mental intrusion or modification.¡±


    So it wasn¡¯t a Thinker? That didn¡¯t make much sense to him but another Thinker would know more about them than himself. Then again, how believable was that. The hallucinations were a telltale sign of Thinker influence.


    ¡°There were no underlying injuries, illness or signs that explained your symptoms.¡± Dr Lee explained before pausing. ¡°Speaking of which, are you still experiencing any adverse effects?¡±


    Luke thought for a moment.


    ¡°Besides numbness¡­¡± And seeing random words of doom. ¡°...no.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a welcome development, although I fear it might be only temporary.¡± Dr Lee muttered, glancing at Lucy. ¡°Once we concluded it was not a physical issue in the broad sense, our resident specialists in less physical illnesses discovered something rather concerning.¡±


    Definitely not a hangover. He hadn¡¯t thought it was since the moment he woke up in hospital but it was still not nice to hear. What exactly could a non-physical illness be? What was concerning about him in the non-physical sense? The room felt like it was getting hotter already.


    ¡°What¡¯s so concerning?¡± Luke asked, trying not to look at the glowing red words hovering behind Doctor Lee¡¯s head.


    ¡°You show signs of having developed Ether mutations.¡± The doctor said with what sounded like some semblance of sympathy.


    Which did not make Luke feel better.


    ¡°What the hell is that?¡±


    ¡°In most, it¡¯s simply a by-product of the age we live in.¡± Dr Lee stated plainly. ¡°In your case, specialists like myself can only think of two possibilities. Hence the good news and the bad news.¡±


    ¡°You said my blood had solved any issues,¡± Lucy complained.


    Did they mislead her to keep her happy? Or to keep her from freaking out? Luke knew his sister wouldn¡¯t do that, regardless of how many immature stunts she tended to pull in the public eye. She liked attention but she wasn¡¯t nearly as psychotic as media sources tended to try and make him think she was on his social media feeds.


    Then again, a super-powered nigh unkillable woman with the ability to supercharge the cells in her own body was fairly intimidating. If anyone was truly crazy enough to try and kill him in a hospital, Lucy would make their stay far more permanent. Poor Dr Lee was just caught in the crossfire.


    Whatever the case, clearly the problem wasn¡¯t solved or the doctor wouldn¡¯t be wearing such a grim expression.


    ¡°Yes well, we believed that at the time.¡± Dr Lee hurriedly agreed. ¡°But after further consultation with specialists in other Globes¡­ we¡¯ve had to revise that estimation.¡±


    ¡°Explain,¡± Lucy demanded.


    ¡°To be frank, the transfusion was far more effective than we anticipated. To the point that it was a little alarming.¡± Dr Lee said quickly. ¡°We thought it was simply due to you two being twins and your genetic similarities. We were wrong. Your blood simply responded to the reaction manifesting inside your brother¡¯s body. It so rapidly dulled the symptoms that we believed it had cured him completely.¡±


    Dr Lee kicked his foot before either of them could say anything. Hard. But Luke only knew it was hard from the sound it made, because he didn¡¯t feel it at all. Not even one bit.


    ¡°But we were wrong. It has only delayed the reaction temporarily.¡± Dr Lee explained, emphasising by kicking his foot again. ¡°We didn¡¯t give you pain medicine Luke.¡±


    ¡°What kind of reaction is going on in my body then,¡± Luke asked, massaging his foot to see if he could convince it to feel pain.


    ¡°That¡¯s the good news and the bad news.¡± Dr Lee said. ¡°Which do you want first.¡±


    ¡°Bad.¡± Said Lucy.


    ¡°Good.¡± Said Luke.


    There were enough shitty things all spinning around him at the moment. A little good news couldn¡¯t hurt. If it was actually good news, although somehow he heavily doubted that. Nothing seemed to be going right. Everything was spiralling out of control.


    He just wanted to go home.


    Dr Lee once again looked nervously between the two of them before picking his patient over the overbearing Supe.


    ¡°There¡¯s a high chance you''re about to have an Exodus.¡± Dr Lee said calmly. ¡°Which should be surprising in some circumstances but considering your sister¡­¡±


    Exodus.


    The doctor''s words trailed off into the white noise slowly building up in Luke¡¯s mind just hearing that word. That wasn¡¯t supposed to be a word associated with him. He wasn¡¯t supposed to ever hear a sentence like that.


    Exodus.


    There was no chance. None at all. Powers were reserved for the lucky and Luke had never been even close to it. It was something everyone craved. But it wasn¡¯t meant for everyone, least of all him.


    Exodus.


    His sister was just as surprised as him, peppering the doctor with questions. Even if they were related. Even if they were twins. Luke had been told multiple times that it made no difference to his chances. Lucy¡¯s Exodus was a freak occurrence. Not something that came from what they shared biologically.


    Exodus.


    Was he allowed to have one? Really? The words. Luke could barely resist staring at them. Were they¡­ were they real? They felt real, in some regard. They reacted to him in a way that felt like superpowers should.


    Exodus


    His heart beat quickened. His throat tightened as it suddenly became harder to breathe. His eyes stayed fixed on the floating red words.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°I promise I wouldn¡¯t tell you if it wasn¡¯t a distinct possibility.¡± The doctor said, dismissing Luke¡¯s words. ¡°But one of two possible outcomes.¡±


    ¡°And the other outcome is the bad news,¡± Lucy said, managing as always to remind him that life got worse instead of better. Always there to rain on his parade.


    Once again the doctor was hesitant to answer, stealing looks at his clipboard which he¡¯d already thoroughly examined.


    ¡°As I¡¯m sure you¡¯re both aware Taken are more or less intolerant to the Exodus process. There is a chance the Ether mutations inside you are¡­¡± The doctor paused, trying to find a nice way to phrase his next words. Luke could tell but the pity in his eyes. ¡°... poisoning you. Rapidly.¡±


    There was silence. The excitement Luke had felt mere moments ago died in his heart as a slow creeping fear crept into him. Dr Lee¡¯s unsteady gaze, almost unwilling to look Luke in the eyes, spoke volumes to him of the severity of this poisoning really presented. Poisoning was just a nice way of saying killing. Luke could tell.


    The Ether mutation was killing him rapidly.


    That was the writing on the walls. Good came with bad. There was a chance he¡¯d get superpowers like he¡¯d always dreamed of. Or he¡¯d die. There was no in-between. Luke could feel it.


    Lucy was less accepting.


    ¡°So what can we do about that then?¡± She said, staring down the poor doctor. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t have an Exodus.¡±


    There was a deep, uncomfortable silence before Dr Lee spoke with a heavy, sombre tone.


    ¡°Make him comfortable.¡±


    The look Lucy gave him would¡¯ve given even the bravest men a heart attack. ¡°What do you mean make him comfortable?!¡±


    I¡¯m going to die. Luke could feel it. There was no chance he was going to be lucky this time. He was going to die. There was a sudden urge to grip his bed sheets for warmth, but there was no warmth. Only numbness. Empty numbness that coated him.


    He stood.


    Dr Lee dropped his clipboard startled by his patient''s sudden movement.


    ¡°I need to leave,¡± Luke muttered, feeling an overwhelming sense of dread overtake him. He couldn¡¯t be here. If he was dying, then this was wasting his time.


    He didn¡¯t have time to waste.


    ¡°Lukas, I think you''re just in a bit of a panic-¡±


    The doctor''s words were cut short when Luke seized him by his shoulders, grasping them hard enough to get his point across.


    ¡°Where are my things.¡± Luke reiterated. The urge to leave was sudden and violent. He felt like every second ticking away was a second he desperately needed.


    It didn¡¯t make sense. Luke had never been one to panic like he felt now. But the walls were closing in. He could feel them, the alabaster white slowly encasing him like a coffin. He couldn¡¯t die in this hospital. He didn¡¯t want to die in this hospital.


    When the doctor didn¡¯t answer him quickly enough the cashier started trying to shake the answer out of him, before Lucy put a firm hand on his forearm. It wasn¡¯t enough to hurt but Luke could feel that no amount of his strength would move the weight.


    ¡°Luke.¡± His sister said, staring him down. There was a rage of emotions behind her eyes. ¡°You need to calm down. We¡¯ll fix this. I¡¯m not just going to let you-¡±


    ¡°Die?¡± Luke spat. ¡°Are you going to lie to yourself about me too? Just like you do about mum and dad?¡±


    Lucy bit her lip as she took a step back from him. Like his words had slapped her in her face. His sister''s yellow eyes quivered and starred at him with such¡­ such horror. It was like a terrible mixture of fear and grief along with disappointment at the thing in front of her. The thing that couldn¡¯t be her brother.


    Because brothers didn¡¯t say such horrid things. But Luke had, twice now. The regret immediately welled in the pits of his being and the thought of death suddenly seemed a little more fitting. Sometimes he was a horrible person. To make his sister sit there, dealing with the potential death of her only living relative. Then throw it in her face.


    Try to make her feel worse than she already did. Just because she still held onto the hope their parents were alive. Just because she¡¯d gotten powers instead of him. Just because she wasn¡¯t going to die.


    Lucy was struggling not to cry, holding her hands at her sides and waiting for him to say something else.


    I¡¯m terrible. Luke realised. I¡¯m a terrible brother. I¡¯m a terrible person. She doesn¡¯t deserve this.


    She had come to help him. Why did he hold it against her? A little piece of the fight to live died inside Luke the moment he realised the answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Luke said, trying to stumble an apology together. ¡°I¡¯m not in my right mind, I just-¡±


    ¡°You what?¡± Lucy said, her voice so much smaller. ¡°You just said what you were thinking?¡±


    ¡°No, you-¡±


    ¡°No, you! You don¡¯t get to hold me still having hope against me!¡± Lucy yelled. ¡°Why do you always do this? Why can¡¯t we just¡­¡±


    ¡­Be a family. That was what she had said the last time he¡¯d blown up at her. When she¡¯d gotten her superpowers. Why couldn¡¯t he just be a good brother, because she was always a good sister? There always something that got between them. Like they were born oil and water.


    Forever at odds.


    But Luke didn¡¯t want to be at odds.


    It¡¯s too much. He realised, sight narrowing in on the exit.


    It¡¯s all too much. He wanted to have a happy family. He wanted to live.


    But none of that was going to happen.


    So instead of facing all the terrifying problems in front of him, Luke ran. He sprinted out the door, uncaring for his illness or the pleas of Lucy and the doctor behind him. Find his things. Find his moped. And run.


    Far away from all of this.


    **************


    ¡°Why did I do that?¡± Luke said to no one at all, stumbling through a dimly lit street towards his apartment.


    How he ended up there was half a mystery to him, fogged by a constant gnawing in his head that refused to leave. He knew that he¡¯d somehow gotten his clothes back, and the keys to his moped. He also knew that somewhere along the line that piece of shit had broken down. Then he was struggling to walk down an empty street.


    In one of the worst neighbourhoods. His neighbourhood.


    His feet weren¡¯t numb anymore. Somewhere along the way, the pain had settled in past that fog and now it felt like ants were eating the bottom of his heels. A strange pain, but Luke wasn¡¯t surprised by the strange anymore.


    ¡°Just a little bit further,¡± Luke mumbled as he stumbled along.


    He could see the vague shape of his two-story motel apartment coming into view. The dim vacancy light shining bright to light his way in the darkness. It was a good thing he was so close because he felt terrible.


    In every way possible.


    I collapsed at my job, I cussed out a customer, I found out I¡¯m dying and I¡­ Luke felt something well in his throat when he thought of Lucy. At the time dying had felt like a fair excuse, now it just felt as vapid as his only blood relationship. She had been so worried about him in her own way. He knew that.


    So why was he such an idiot?


    The guilt hurt. It hurt so much.


    Luke chose to ignore it like all the other pain, shoving it down and looking forward to the little good he had left in this world. His apartment was filled with plenty of things to make the little pains easier and Winter to make him feel like he wasn¡¯t completely alone in the world.


    Maybe I¡¯ll just go to bed. Luke thought, eyes wandering to the glowing red words floating in front of his face.


    [Error: Principality unclear]


    ¡°The only thing unclear is why I¡¯m not absolutely hammered,¡± Luke mumbled, before casting a glance around himself. He was completely alone on the street, surrounded by only the buzz of street lights. ¡°Losing my mind never felt so shit.¡±


    He hopped over the waist-high hedge and into his motel apartment parking lot. Normally his moped would sit neatly in one of the reserved sections, but now? It was ditched on some part of the highway. Luke was sure when he woke up in the morning he¡¯d feel like a moron for leaving it there. But in that moment he would just rather be home than deal with the hassle of wheeling it home if it was even still there.


    Every step was enough of a struggle as is.


    There was a sound behind him that sounded like feet behind him. It was subtle.


    The cashier turned from looking at his empty parking space to look-


    Luke felt his head snap back as something hard hit him from behind. He crashed into the ground, tasting metallic rust and asphalt as he tried to breathe. Fiery pain raced through his body from his ankle twisted from the fall, down to his head which somehow felt more dizzy.


    Trying to collect himself Luke blinked the blood seeping down his forehead out of his eyes, barely able to see past the bright motel sign and the cars around him. Everything was a blur of motion. Except for the red words.


    [Error: Principality unclear]


    Not exactly helpful. Luke thought, trying to muster himself up as his hands sprawled out against the asphalt. Whatever had just hit him left a deep numbness on the back of his head and Luke wasn¡¯t keen to get hit again.


    There were words as he struggled himself up. It was slow and arduous.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get up dude.¡± Sounded behind him among a constant buzzing in his ears.


    Deciding not to take advice from the stranger who¡¯d just slammed him in the back of the head Luke kneeled, slipping a hand in front of his stomach just before a blurry foot impacted it hard enough to send him rolling over the concrete.


    The cashier grasped at the ground, trying and failing to breathe as it felt like his lungs were collapsing. A deep numbing burn spread through his body like a virus.


    Why does this keep happening to me? Luke wondered as the carpark around him slowly turned into from a fuzzy blur to something more recognisable. Why do things keep going wrong?


    Was he being robbed? Luke hadn¡¯t a clue. Every time he¡¯d been robbed it had been in the street and the aggressor hadn¡¯t been very physical.


    Was¡­ was it another newbie Supe like Shrapnel?


    No that doesn¡¯t make any sense. Why would one be here? At his apartment, waiting for him. Was it about Lucy? Was this one of her Supe nemesis come to find an easy hostage? Was this the Thinker come to finish him off? That last one felt the most likely.


    Thinkers tended to cut loose.


    A hand grasped the back of his collar and wrenched him up. Luke weakly grabbed at his hand, but the grip was like a vice.


    ¡°I told you not to get up dumbass.¡± His attacker said into his ear. ¡°Why do you Normies never listen.¡±


    ¡°Why are¡­¡± Luke paused to spit some blood and dirt. ¡°...doing this? I don¡¯t have anything expensive on me.¡±


    As if on cue he felt a hand slip into his back pocket and take his wallet.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be the decider of that.¡± His attacker mumbled, sounding pleased with himself. ¡°But I ain¡¯t here for your money dude.¡±


    ¡°Then why.¡±


    ¡°You made some Supe look like an idiot on T.V.¡± The stranger said, dropping him back onto the ground. He waltz around to the front of him giving Luke the first real look at his attacker. He wore black jeans and a black hoodie with a hockey mask, standing over him with an almost casual posture. ¡°Darkspark always struck me as a petty guy, but using my services on a Normie is pretty low even for him.¡±


    It took him a few seconds to remember Darkspark was the superhero he¡¯d left hanging yesterday. That was why this was happening? What the hell even was this?


    ¡°What does he even *cough* want.¡± Luke managed out, feeling a rasp scrap in his throat.


    Hockey Mask squatted down in front of him and it almost felt like he was smiling behind his mask. His entire demeanour was so carefree while he was assaulting Luke. It was eerie and infuriating all in one. Acting like this wasn¡¯t a big deal. Like attacking someone was something so usual.


    ¡°Just to rough you up, trash your place and steal your shit,¡± Hockey Mask said, ruffing Luke¡¯s blonde hair like he was some kind of dog. ¡°That sorta thing. Sending a message, ya know?¡±


    Luke laughed. At first a little. Then a bit more. It hurt to chuckle but it felt so worth it. Because all of this, every single part was just so ridiculous. It was all too much.


    His chest heaved and waned as he rolled over, feeling the wet blood on the back of his head stain against the asphalt. An empty Globe sky greeted him above. Funny. Too funny.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    This was because of Darkspark of all things. God that was hilarious. So hilarious Luke just wanted to grab ahold of Hockey Mask¡¯s neck and squeeze till he heard a crack.


    ¡°Message received, jackass.¡± The cashier grunted, spitting on his feet. ¡°Now fuck off.¡±


    ¡°If only it were that easy, but I don¡¯t get paid for nothing Normie.¡± Hockey Mask sighed, sounding almost proud. He got up from his squat and started leisurely strolling towards the stairs to Luke¡¯s apartment. ¡°By the way, I go by Puck if you somehow ever find yourself in the market for some Super muscle.¡±


    Luke reached out a hand, his strength slowly leaving him as he bled onto the asphalt. He wanted to grab Puck by the head and shovel him into the ground until he was nothing but mush. But he couldn¡¯t. He couldn¡¯t move.


    He couldn¡¯t do anything.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t¡­¡± Luke struggled to get the words out. ¡°...aren¡¯t you afraid I¡¯ll come after you.¡±


    Puck paused halfway up the stairs and looked down at him, tilting his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a threat to me, so no.¡±


    Then he continued up the stairs towards Luke¡¯s apartment, leaving the cashier bleeding in the carpark, staring at the sky like it might lend him a helping hand.


    I hate this place.


    He could feel something in him resonate with that. Something unfamiliar. Was it rage? Was it fear? Luke couldn¡¯t tell. He just stared at the sky. The inky blackness seemed so welcoming.


    If only he had that same abyss in his heart. If only he couldn¡¯t feel it.


    If only he wasn¡¯t here.


    I just want it all to end.


    Again, he felt a pulse deep inside himself. Inside something more illogical than his brain and something more personal than his heart. A soul.


    Was it his soul that he felt tugging at him?


    It felt like a hand reaching out to him, pressing against his mind.


    All his senses were distorted by pain and burning. It felt like parts of him were moulding into something new. Mutating and evolving inside of him.


    Luke raised a lofty hand to the sky.


    It felt¡­ it felt like he could grasp it.


    [System Seven notice!]


    [New Class available: Herald of Echo¡¯s]


    New class? The red words glowed above him ominously, entwining with this dark new stimulus he felt swirling inside. The sky around him was darkening, the lights going out one after another.


    Luke could feel the ground beneath him groaning under the weight of something supernatural.


    It wasn¡¯t a hallucination. It wasn¡¯t dizziness or the wound on the back of his head.


    Luke could see it now. The darkness made him more lucid than he¡¯d ever felt and he could feel it.


    The words were offering power.


    No.


    Something was reaching out through System Seven. Lending a hand to his plight.


    He could hear horns, low and heavy in the distant past, sounding as the dark embraced him.


    They sounded like¡­ like death itself.


    [Herald of Echo¡¯s:


    You have been without them your whole life, shielded by fate from their eyes. Their touch. But now the Echo¡¯s see you, and in you, they see a champion.


    A herald.


    They wish you to be their favoured son and offer you their blessing and power.


    Bring the dark to this world, shatter their little prisons and show the final bastion of man the glorious purpose they struggle so fruitlessly against.


    Death. Destruction. Domination.


    Those will be your tools to enact the end of man.


    This class features spatial, spiritual and metaphysical manipulation abilities, along with a growth path towards something more than human.


    *Warning* certain abilities may alter users race


    *Addition warning* taking the class will put you at odds with the CREATOR]


    He could feel it, like a hand clasped around his shoulder.


    Something was behind him. Watching. The red words were merely a vessel, nothing more than a messenger for the creature offering Luke power.


    Herald of echoes? Was that the name of his power? Or simply what he would become. Was he having an exodus? It felt like it, in a way. In another, it felt wrong.


    The brimming hate he had for Puck, Darkspark and the Thinker and whatever was killing him and the whole world wrapped together into one bundle made just to fuck him over had brought them here.


    That hate was an anchor, letting that darkness in.


    Power.


    Real power. No hallucination. Real genuine power was stemming at his fingertips.


    Luke could¡¯ve sworn he saw the sky swirling down towards him as he held his hand up.


    Reaching for a vessel.


    He wanted power. He had for so long. He could feel the red words waiting silently.


    Whatever System Seven was, awaited his answer.


    Unlike seemingly everything else in his life, this time Luke had a choice.


    I don''t remember Exodus¡¯s giving you a choice. He¡¯d scrolled and devoured every account of an Exodus he could get his hands on. None of them ever gave you a choice. He¡¯d never even heard someone propose such a thing.


    I should want this. He had all his life.


    I should say yes. It would make everything so much simpler.


    Life was better with powers.


    But.


    Will it be better with these powers?


    His hesitancy began with the description. It was vague enough to leave some leeway, but as Luke devoured the red words again and again, he found it felt intentional.


    A bunch of nice words about being chosen and being gifted were just gift wrapping on top of the ultimately grim description of what he would become. What his powers would make him.


    Bringing the dark?


    Shattering the prisons of man?


    Does that mean the globes? He didn¡¯t want to shatter those. He lived there!


    Moreover, constricting himself to becoming a creature solely designed for death, destruction and domination sounded like a horrible life. Luke was absolutely down on life and kinda wanted to maybe murder someone, but what kind of psycho wanted that for their whole life?


    Not me.


    The final straw was the thing that started all those little seeds of doubt.


    And it was rather simple. Sure he hated the world right now. Sure he was curled in pain on a dark night, freshly robbed and bleeding all over the place.


    But you know what he hated more.


    ¡°Fucking Echoes.¡± Luke spat, using his hand that raised towards the sky to give it the bird.


    His family were Taken. A generation of people stolen from time by creatures who thought they knew better. Luke had seen first-hand the ramifications of what the Echoes wanted.


    It had ruined the early years of his life.


    It had ruined almost all of his parents'' lives.


    [Do you wish to decline?]


    [Warning: Failure to integrate a Class will have a catastrophic consequence]


    ¡°Like I¡¯d ever join up with you bastards,¡± Luke muttered, giving the final decree.


    The effect was immediate. His senses shifted from the possible to simple reality as everything snapped back into place.


    The ground no more groaned under his power.


    The lights around him didn¡¯t hide in his presence.


    The darkness didn¡¯t reach out from above.


    Suddenly he was in just as much pain as he had been the moment Puck smacked him on the back of the head. Suddenly, he could hear the distinct sound of things smashing from up those motel stairs, towards his apartment.


    But the pain hurt too much to move.


    I¡¯ll just stay here for a little. Luke reasoned with himself, feeling his consciousness wane. It was probably from the blood loss.


    [Error: Principality unclear]


    ¡°Again, not helpful,¡± Luke mumbled, drifting.


    His whole body wasn¡¯t warm anymore. The departure of his potential Exodus had left a deep cold.


    It spread through him. Dulling pain, numbing nerves. Offering something.


    An escape?


    A release?


    Death?


    That¡¯s what it felt like. The strange affliction and mutation within him was devouring his body. Luke remembered what the doctor said clear as day. If he didn¡¯t have an Exodus. If he didn¡¯t evolve. This¡­ this Ether would be the death of him.


    But he was too tired.


    ¡°I don''t want to.¡± Luke felt his lips mutter, like a child scared of the dark. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go.¡±


    His eyes were so heavy. He tried to keep them open, but it only delayed the inevitable.


    Luke felt consciousness leave him one final time as he stared up those stairs, wondering why he had been chosen to live like this.


    His last sight, red words offering him no solace.


    Only more questions.


    **************


    Then Luke woke up.


    His thoughts were dazed and drizzled as he tried to pull himself up only to realise too late he was sleeping on his couch. In his frenzy he rolled onto the ground, falling onto the remains of his coffee table.


    He felt wood and glass remains stick into his backside, barely able to take in the sight of his wrecked apartment. But strangely, there was no pain.


    There was also silence around him. Puck must¡¯ve left quickly because Luke seemed to be alone.


    Puck really did a number on this place.


    His apartment surrounded him, ruined. His curtains had been ripped, the couch had been burned on its far end, and the TV was smashed.


    His poster of Finite, the greatest superhero to ever live, was torn to pieces.


    His collection of DVDs was destroyed.


    The only thing that seemed to have been spared were his comics, resting on a shelf that was the only piece of furniture left unscathed.


    The room smelled too. Like burnt toast.


    Looking around himself, in the wreck of his apartment made Luke feel even emptier inside. His home had been hollowed out, and for what?


    Almost mechanically, perhaps as a coping mechanism, Luke got himself up and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed a garbage bag from his cabinet that no longer had a door and started hauling anything that was broken into it.


    Mugs, figures, and disks routinely fell into the garbage bag.


    Why does this happen to me?


    Had he done something wrong in his life to deserve this?


    Luke had lived almost his entire life Putting up with what the world gave him. He rarely complained and he never tried to purposely make his annoyances someone else¡¯s problem.


    So why?


    I don''t want to think about it. He realised. It felt harrowing to try and unpack everything he felt about the world. He was sure he didn¡¯t want to break it like the red words-


    Wait a minute.


    Luke paused, holding a piece of a plate he¡¯d made in pottery with his father when he was six.


    ¡°They¡¯re gone,¡± Luke said, turning around himself.


    No matter where he looked the words of this System Seven didn¡¯t appear. No error. No offering of a class. Was that like a class from a video game?


    Weird. Luke noted, waiting for the red words to pop back into existence. They didn¡¯t. Where they went, the cashier had no clue, but he sure as hell wasn¡¯t missing them. His eyes couldn¡¯t help but linger on his hand, which was not nearly as bloody as it should¡¯ve been.


    Curious, Luke touched the back of his head, expecting to feel some blood still caked in his hair. But there was only hair.


    Come to think of it¡­ how did I get here?


    The last thing he remembered was lying outside in the parking lot. Then he was lying on the couch of his ruined apartment by his lonesome.


    Did Bloom bring me in? His supervillain neighbour did have a kind streak in her as of late. It wouldn¡¯t surprise him if she¡¯d decided not to let him freeze to death outside.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Luke mumbled, continuing with his cleaning.


    He liked it. Cleaning was an easy distraction from the world around him. In a way, it felt like he was fixing some of the destruction that had come his way.


    However after four garbage bags full of broken mementos and pieces of his apartment that made it his apartment Luke was drained.


    Drained of everything.


    Drained of pain.


    Of hate.


    Of rage.


    Of sorrow.


    He just felt¡­


    I wonder if Winter¡¯s still awake.


    Luke slouched onto the not burnt cushion of his couch and pulled out his phone. He was met with a completely shattered screen.


    ¡°And of course that dibshit somehow broke my phone.¡±


    He tossed it onto the ground in frustration before that quickly subsided as well.


    Luke sat in the darkness of his shattered apartment, staring at the ground absently. Silence accompanied him as he stared at the ground, praying it would swallow him whole.


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    The cashier gripped his hands to his head, squeezing as hard as he could. Hoping for some feeling. Some pain.


    ¡°I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t¡­¡± His voice raised louder and louder, from a low whisper to a steady begging.


    I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t I can¡¯t. If he had a heart it would be beating like a racehorse. If he had sweat it would be it be dripping from his scalp. If he had to breathe, it would be stolen by the panic.


    Luke couldn¡¯t be here. He couldn¡¯t be left alone with his thoughts. There were no distractions his mind could find, no purchase for sanity to cling to. All he could think of was everything that had gone wrong. Everything that just kept going wrong. Over and over again. Like some kind of sick joke.


    Emotions stormed in his head like a blaze, absorbing all reason. He kicked the remnants of his coffee table into the wall, but that wasn¡¯t enough. He screamed his lungs out into his hands, but that wasn¡¯t enough.


    Hot tears dripped down from his eyes, but even they didn¡¯t make him feel any semblance of peace.


    Luke always tried to do the right thing. The honest thing. Somehow he¡¯d ended up here regardless.


    Asking himself the same question. A question he didn¡¯t even remember being asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think you deserve a little more excitement in life?¡±


    ¡°Yes dammit!¡± Luke raged. ¡°Who doesn¡¯t think that? Who doesn¡¯t want more? Is that so wrong after all the shit I have to deal with constantly?¡±


    He wasn¡¯t asking for much. He didn¡¯t want money. He didn¡¯t want fame. He didn¡¯t even really want power.


    Luke just wanted an outlet.


    Something that was his.


    Not death. Not destruction. Not domination.


    Just something¡­ something¡­ something¡­


    For whatever reason his thoughts wandered towards his encounter with Shrapnel. How positive that was in comparison to the shitstorm that was dealing with Darkspark. Then that thought mingled with the casual apathy of Puck and how off it felt, like he was just doing a job. These images trailed along with all the painful interactions he¡¯d had with Susan.


    All of them had one thing in common.


    Despite their powers, they all failed.


    Because none of them were truly super.


    His eyes unconsciously shifted towards the comics, unscathed and stacked high. The heroes and villains had kept him daydreaming for hours on end as a kid. They had filled him with excitement, with desire and with something¡­ something¡­


    Again the words escaped him.


    But whatever it was, it ran parallel to what real heroes and villains made him feel.


    Susan, a hero, failed to even gain Luke¡¯s trust the way she should. Too busy with her sense of self-importance to make anyone feel anything positive.


    Shrapnel, a villain, failed to intimidate Luke the way he should. Perhaps the only failing he was willing to forgive, but he could¡¯ve done better at Shrapnel¡¯s age. He was sure of it.


    Darkspark, a hero, failed to inspire Luke the way he was meant to. It was easy to see through the paper-thin persona he wore to whatever egomaniac lay beneath.


    And Puck, a villain, failed to interest Luke. Because he wasn¡¯t invested and he wasn¡¯t really a villain. He was just a thug who¡¯d gotten lucky and used that luck to ruin other''s lives for money. Even Shrapnel had more of a thing going for him than the casual indifference of Puck.


    And all these walking pitfalls in his life had one thing in common.


    They disappointed him. They disappointed him so immensely that they killed any of the childish joy that kept Luke interested in the Supe world. That kept him interested in life.


    None of them had any of that precious outlet he craved.


    The excitement he actually wanted.


    None of them were that something¡­


    None of them were¡­


    ¡°...Fun?¡±


    A ghostly voice echoed through the room, tearing Luke from his ruminating.


    He tore his head up to the source of the noise only to see static hissing over the TV dimly lighting the TV.


    Static coming from the broken TV, with a whole corner of the glass loosely hanging off.


    Despite all the crazy things that kept happening to Luke, his heart couldn¡¯t help but skip a beat staring at the broken TV. The way the static moved buzzed in his eyes and danced in his eyes felt almost hypnotic.


    ¡°Guess Puck didn¡¯t finish off the TV,¡± Luke mumbled nervously.


    His hands grasp the still-intact remote sitting on the floor, turning it off. The static died in a moment, suspending the room in darkness and silence once more.


    I need sleep. And a shower and some good food. He was too tired, too overworked and too close to death for any of this. Hell with his paranoia, if he kept seeing things he might die of shock-


    The TV flicked back on, filling the room with buzz and static.


    Then it responded.


    ¡°I give you the answer you¡¯re looking for and you turn me off?! I swear I¡¯ll climb through this screen and beat your ass right now! Ring style jackass.¡±


    The ghostly voice rang through his apartment once more, emanating from the TV and sounding quite offended. Luke gazed at the TV for a few moments, trying to rack his brain before eventually letting his head just fall in his hands. ¡°Hearing voices can be ticked off my ¡®Are you insane¡¯ bingo card.¡±


    ¡°I think your insanity bingo card is already well and truly filled.¡± The ghostly voice surmised.


    Yeah, that¡¯s enough of that. Luke got up before he could hear more delusional rambling in his head. He stepped over the broken coffee table and wrapped his hands around the TV¡¯s power cord, giving it a hard yank. The TV went dark and silence once again returned to the room.


    ¡°Thank god-¡±


    The TV flashed back alive with light and buzz. This time without any power. Then the ghostly annoying voice returned.


    ¡°If it makes you feel any better, chicks dig crazy guys.¡±


    ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± Luke replied blankly.


    He wasn¡¯t really¡­ sure how to continue. The idea to just destroy the TV more popped into his head but at this point, he didn¡¯t want to touch the thing.


    ¡°They do if you¡¯re comfortable with restraining orders.¡±


    There¡¯s a whole lot to unpack in that statement. Luke thought as he plopped himself back on the couch, staring at the static. Try as he might to take stock of the situation, the cashier didn¡¯t really have a clue what the hell was going on.


    The screen flashed again and the drizzle of black and white static started to fizzle into colour. Shapes and sounds became clearer as the buzz faded to give way to¡­


    Is that a person? It was hard to tell. Hard to distinguish shapes in the blurry colours that slowly moulded together into something clearer.


    An image of a masculine figure lounging in the biggest, most rigid chair Luke had ever seen fizzled into the TV screen. The chair was so black that it almost faded into the background without any light, were it not for the glean that reflected off its many edges. It was almost a throne and perfectly fit the mystery man sitting on it.


    He was draped in a sleek black overcoat with red lines glowing on its edges, dark military pants and a mask shaped like a V obscuring his features.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Luke said with a nervous smirk. ¡°... You have my attention.¡±


    ¡°Why did you reject them?¡± The figure asked, a blurry image on his TV screen.


    ¡°Them?¡±


    The figure pointed up at the sky. ¡°Enemy number uno. The Echoes. They gave you a way out from terminal Ether exposure and you rejected them. Why?¡±


    That had a pretty simple answer.


    Because fuck them. But he wasn¡¯t going to let the figure gloss over the whole terminal Ether exposure thing. Nor a gnawing question lurking at the back of his head. He never did figure out how he got up his apartment stairs and inside.


    ¡°Am I dead?¡± Luke asked, far calmer than he should be as he thumbed at himself.


    ¡°That¡¯s irrelevant. Answer my question.¡± The figure said, dismissing him.


    ¡°It feels pretty relevant to me.¡± Luke refuted.


    ¡°Technically, no.¡± The figure finally answered. ¡°But you certainly aren¡¯t alive either¡±


    Well, that blows. Luke wasn¡¯t keen on kicking the bucket just yet.


    ¡°Now answer the question, peon¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to do it. Seemed dull, to be honest.¡± Luke answered candidly.


    There was silence. The masked figure rapped his knuckles against the chair armrest, seemingly chewing over Luke¡¯s answer. Luke was slouching on the couch, slowly contemplating the deeply horrifying reality of his own mortality.


    There were so many things left that he had to do. He could die here. He had to at least give his two weeks at work. He had to at least clean his apartment, the real one. He had to at least mend things with his sister.


    He had to¡­ he had to¡­


    The figure leaned forward. ¡°I can bring you back you know. I can make you better too. In fact, I want to.¡±


    That sounds foreboding. Luke thought to himself immediately sceptical.


    ¡°...How?¡± The cashier asked.


    ¡°Simple really.¡± The figure said with glee in his ghostly tone, holding out a hand. ¡°We make a deal.¡±


    ¡°What kind of deal?¡±


    ¡°One where we both get what we want.¡±


    ¡°And what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Something super.¡± The masked figure announced in a grandiose tone. ¡°Just like you.¡±


    Just like¡­ he can read my thoughts. Or he responded to them, which Luke found much more likely. Those thoughts that had been plaguing him since Susan had erupted and festered when Puck smashed the back of his head in. The sheer lack of super in the world was the last straw. Luke could stand living in a super world that treated him the way it had. He could stand living in a non-super one that treated him better.


    But a lacklustre, dull world that treated him like crap.


    That wasn¡¯t okay.


    He wouldn¡¯t stand for it.


    A world where superpowers weren¡¯t just mistreated, they were made boring.


    Luke couldn''t stand the thought. There were good ones out there, like his sister. Good or bad people who treated their powers with respect, but there weren¡¯t many like the ones in his comics.


    They were all dead or turned into things so horrible they were expelled from the Globe.


    The world needed that back. Luke needed back. Or he needed a better life¡­


    Or¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± Luke said, leaning forward. He felt a certain sense of eagerness propel him through his anxiety around the masked figure.


    Maybe all he needed was to make a deal.


    With some hesitancy. Luke told himself, not getting too accepting. He couldn¡¯t let himself get caught up in ideas that weren¡¯t his, especially by this stranger.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad I finally got your attention because just like you, I¡¯ve noticed the Gifted of your world has lost a certain¡­¡± The figure paused, grasping at the air as if he were grabbing the world he was looking for. ¡°I.T factor. An actor''s sense of drama to the stage that you humans all play on. A problem I didn¡¯t possess an answer to until I stumbled across you.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Luke asked. ¡°You think I¡¯m right? That the world does need real superheroes and villains.¡±


    ¡°Yep!¡± The figure exclaimed ecstatically, before pointing at Luke. ¡°And I think it should be you.¡±


    ¡°You want me?¡± Luke almost stammered, thumbing himself. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Call it the cosmos aligning, but your idea happened to have reached something that hates the Echoes as much as you do. Your little stunt got my attention, then your idea got me excited.¡± The masked figure said, standing. ¡°All of this is only possible because of that little virus in your body. If that ain¡¯t fate, I don¡¯t know what is.¡±


    Almost convenient. Everything falling into place so neatly. From the hospital to the System Seven to Puck to now. All of it aligned so well to blossom the ideas in his head that attracted this¡­ whatever the masked figure was. That kind of thing just didn¡¯t happen by accident.


    But this guy doesn¡¯t strike me as the type to plan. His demeanour and behaviour gave Luke the impression this was all some whim. A whim with purpose sure, but still just a whim. He didn¡¯t take Luke¡¯s plight seriously because he didn¡¯t care at all. He was just leveraging it to get what he wanted out of Luke.


    Which was a¡­


    A super-something.


    Which sounded perfect. Too perfect.


    Someone did this. Luke was sure of it. Someone put all of it together.


    But did it matter?


    Because this was what he wanted.


    And he didn¡¯t exactly have a choice, from what he¡¯d gathered it was this or death.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Luke muttered standing himself. ¡°What have I got to lose.¡±


    ¡°Brillant! But that¡¯s not how you should be thinking, dear Luke. It¡¯s not what you have to lose¡­¡± The masked figure paused dramatically and then took a step forward.


    Then another. And another. Until he was so close to the camera that Luke could only see his chest. Then he stepped through the screen and planted a hand on either end of Luke¡¯s broken TV as he crawled out of the screen. It was extremely uncomfortable to watch and made Luke seriously doubt his decision to accept superpowers from a stranger. Then again¡­


    ¡­Don¡¯t all superpowers come from strangers?


    Whatever the case the TV screen wobbled back into static as the masked man dusted himself off, smelling of old leather and cinnamon.  Luke thought he would¡¯ve felt more confronted seeing the strange sinister man barely a few feet away from him, but after all the odd things that had happened, he felt like he¡¯d started to grow a certain tolerance for it.


    The man was his height, which wasn¡¯t small and slightly more robustly built than the lazy cashier.


    ¡°...But what you have to gain!¡± The masked man finished, before holding out his hand.


    It hovered in the distance between them.


    The cashier considered it for a moment.


    Fuck it.


    Mustering what little was left of his sense of preservation while shutting up the alarm bell screaming in the back of his head, Luke grasped the hand tight. The masked man grasped tighter. His grip was like a vice and it held onto Luke¡¯s arm when he naturally tried to retract it back.


    Something changed.


    Luke couldn¡¯t put his finger on where or what it was.


    But something intrinsic to himself morphed under the will of the masked man.


    ¡°You¡¯re supposed to let go,¡± Luke said, suddenly a little less sure of what he was doing.


    ¡°One last thing.¡± The masked man murmured, gripping his hand so hard it started to burn. ¡°Light or dark?¡±


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°You know, good or evil. Goody two shoes or nasty bad guy? Saviour or disaster?¡±


    Luke frowned. ¡°Is this something I need to decide now?¡±


    The masked man just gripped his hand harder, until Luke started to wince. He could feel it. Unlike any other pain in this place, the grip was real. And it hurt like a bitch. Making the point very clear.


    He doesn¡¯t want more questions. He just wants an answer. Luke didn¡¯t have a preference. He didn¡¯t swing towards the path of good or evil and didn¡¯t feel particularly motivated towards the pursuits of either.


    He didn¡¯t see himself as some clandestine saviour. Nor did he want to hurt people.


    Well, that''s not entirely true. He wouldn¡¯t say no to swinging a tyre iron at Puck''s kneecaps or setting Darkspark on fire. But he didn¡¯t want to hurt everyone or save them either. He was a pretty mixed bag when it came to people as a whole. No black or white in him, just a whole bunch of nebulous grey.


    Still, that¡¯s probably a point towards evil, consider-


    The masked figure squeezed his hand, causing a painful crack.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah I get it just give me a sec.¡± Luke stammered.


    ¡°Tic tock. Decisions decisions.¡±


    Okay okay, think about this logistically. Logistically the path of good was a lot smoother. For one he could register with the E.R.A.O instead of merely being accounted for by it. He could get grants for saving people, he could take courses on the beginnings of heroism. There was a fairly well-known network that ran through E.R.A.O that connected starter heroes together to form teams, which was almost always safer.


    Not to mention public opinion was far easier to sway your way when you were the good guy. Many, many grim connotations came with being a villain. It was not so easy to get brand deals when you were blowing up storefronts for the helluva it. The numbers also tended to lean pretty heavily in the hero''s favour. It was an easy path to a payday and esteem in the city.


    There really aren¡¯t a lot of reasons to become a villain now I think about it. Except if you were a psychopath who just wanted to cause misery. It was a much harder job but it did come with a single benefit.


    You could do whatever the fuck you wanted.


    Besides the unwritten rules of the Exodus Accords, you could get away with pretty much anything, so long as you were willing to take the consequences. Like getting Cuffed. No one wanted to get Cuffed.


    Not really for me¡­ But he did really, really want to maim Darkspark. There was also the personal side to consider. He lived next to a supervillain and Bloom sure as shit wasn¡¯t going to be happy living next to a hero. If she didn¡¯t scalp him she¡¯d probably take him hostage for E.R.A.O to bail out a couple dozen times, which would probably land him Cuffed anyway.


    Then there was his sister. Would she want her brother as a hero?


    I don''t think she¡¯d want to fight me. He certainly didn¡¯t want to fight her. But she probably didn¡¯t want him acting as a hero either. They were bound to get grouped as siblings, each other faults shining on the other.


    Kinda feels like a moot point. However, if he were a villain, Luke would become the definitive bad sibling, which could be good for Lucy¡¯s career. But it could also drag her down.


    It evened out in his head.


    When it came down to it, only one real difference mattered to him. Hero¡¯s weren¡¯t meant to fight other heroes. You¡¯d catch severe penalties from E.R.A.O just for thinking about it.


    Which would mean he couldn¡¯t break Darkspark¡¯s kneecaps.


    And he really, really wanted to.


    Plus I can hunt down Puck. Villain vs Villain is more of a turf war sort of deal. There were many other reasons he could think of to lean towards villainy.


    But the main one was simple.


    Vengeance.


    ¡°Breaking the law sounds fun,¡± Luke said with a smile, redoubling his grip. ¡°Make me your villain magic man.¡±


    The masked man let his hand go.


    ¡°Villain it is.¡±


    ¡°Soooooooooo¡­¡± Luke muttered, prepared for something Exodus-like to happen. A giant hurricane of darkness. A wall of fire. Tsunami. Earthquake. That sorta thing. ¡°...what now?¡±


    ¡°Now you wake up.¡± The mask man said, moving his hands to said mask and pulling it up ever so slowly. ¡°Sorry in advance.¡±


    ¡°What''s that supposed to mean- ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHH.¡±


    Luke tumbled over, gripping his eyes in pain as they started to burn with terrible truth. A mere visage put such a weight on his mind that his brain stumbled, letting the pieces of it fall through the cracks.


    The words to even describe it felt like they were slipping through his fingers.


    It hurt just to think.


    His mind was on fire.


    Luke felt his body collapse into ashes as his whole being was shattered. Bones charred and skin melted like butter. The terrible truth infested more than just his body and mind. It grasped onto his soul.


    Flowing into it and whispering secrets to him in languages that sounded like the stars. Raw unfettered chaos dripped through his sight, through the fractured image of what that thing was, landing against the back of his mind like fire.


    He blinked awake.


    His hands felt against the controls of a great vessel, suspended in an ominous everpresent darkness. A ball of blue lingers beneath the glass floor beneath him, covered in crackling dark clouds and seeming so vast. When he looked up, he saw lights. Countless of them peppering the great darkness beyond like lamp posts.


    Guiding his mind to the path of doom.


    Luke felt danger in those stars.


    He blinked awake.


    His hands held his dead friend, body torn to pieces by a terrible black blood that had eaten most of their skin. He stood on a charred war-torn plain covered in deep white fog. Long rivers of pulsating black blood were carved in the cavities of the plain around him, surrounding him in death. Small dark figures in the distance were lurking through the fog. They were getting bigger. Closer.


    Luke felt time closing in.


    He blinked awake.


    He stood before a chained man. Countless complex azure chains bound the slender man to a stone tablet. The man looked gaunt with dark features and a wash of raven-black hair. But his white eyes were sharper than a razor and they stared into him unwaveringly. Those eyes were asking questions, but he didn¡¯t possess the answer. The man looked in deep pain. The man looked familiar.


    Luke felt fear as raw as humanity could feel it in those clear white eyes.


    He blinked awake.


    Wetness trickled down his face as his eyes fluttered open. A dark sky greeted him, lightless as usual. A small warmth settled through his body, nesting together in his slow-beating heart. Cold asphalt pressed into the back of his head. The smell of dried blood lingered but there was no pain.


    The motel sign glowed luminescent in the distance.


    Rain poured down around him.


    ¡°Well, that was¡­¡± Luke paused, waiting for his thoughts to stop tumbling. ¡°...weird.¡±


    Red words painted his sight before he could elaborate.


    [Congradulations on obtaining a class!]


    [Class {Super Villain} has been selected]


    Yes. Luke thought, pushing himself up. He focused on the Class and expanded, offering a description of exactly what he¡¯d agreed to.


    [Super Villain:


    The stage is set, the mask is adorned and it¡¯s time to make the world super again. The world needs a good shake to get back in order and with the Principality of ¡ª-- on your side, you might just be the one to do it.


    Fancy guns, high-speed chases and big red buttons flash in your future, along with a legacy of crime, bodies, chaos and fun.


    Plot, scheme and destroy to your heart''s content.


    You are the Villain.


    Build your infamy, payroll some minions and leave chaos in your wake.


    This class is centred around conceptual powers and loosely defined villainous deeds, creating an exponential power base centred on the collective fear, acclaim and coolness surrounding your identity. Think plot armour, but as a superpower.


    *Warning*: Parts of this class may subconsciously alter your behaviour, subject but not limited to an increased propensity towards anti-social behaviours and a strange desire to ominously caress a cat named Mr Doom in a larger-than-necessary chair.


    *Additional Warning*: Accepting this class may make the Creator very proud.]


    ¡°Yes,¡± Luke mumbled, growing more and more enthused as he read over his newfound power.


    Then more words carved themselves into his eyesight.


    [All stats have been reduced to zero]


    [Starter Quest intialising]


    [Starter Quest created]


    [Daily Dose of Evil:


    Description:


    An apple a day keeps the doctor away.


    A victim a day keeps you from going astray.


    Complete one minor act of villainy to grow your powers and infamy. The reward is static and will not increase with the scale of villainy accomplished.


    Reward: 100EXP, one {Skill} and unlocking of {Status} feature


    Punishment: Ouchies


    Deadline: 23:59:48]


    ¡°Huh¡­ it¡¯s like a video game.¡± The cashier felt like he was already growing used to the weirdness.


    Luke had many questions. What was going on? Who was the masked man? Was that the creator? Why did everything line up so perfectly? Who did this to him? Were they mortal? Could they die? What scale of ouchies would he suffer if he failed to meet the deadline? Why was his power sending him on quests?


    And I have basically no answers¡­ Except one.


    He knew exactly who his first victim was going to be.

 Chapter 1: Evil Is Good For The Soul

    [Deadline: 23:38:43]


    The deadline starts at 2 am. Luke noted, checking his phone as he wafted through garbage bags in his apartment.


    Like in the dream/death/nightmare/whateverthefuckthatwas, his apartment was completely trashed. Slowly cleaning it over the last ten minutes made him keenly aware of just how much of his stuff was destroyed. Normally, Luke would be stressing to the gills about how much money it would cost him to replace everything.


    But right now, he had bigger problems.


    And he didn¡¯t feel stressed in the slightest.


    ¡°It¡¯s strange,¡± Luke mumbled. ¡°I feel light.¡±


    Not just emotionally either. His body felt light and full. His muscles were fresh and powerful. It was easier to breathe, easier to think and easier to just be. It made cleaning much more exciting. It also gave him something to think about.


    What exactly am I going to do? That felt like a big question. Especially when he started thinking about what he was going to do now that he had powers. Or at least, he thought he did. They might still be shy, but he felt like something there. Something that had taken root in his heart. The question felt like too much to tackle at once, so he decided to narrow it down to what he was going to do about his quest.


    Daily Dose of Evil¡­ or DDE for short. He had ideas. He had many ideas. But how to go about them was a little bit more complex. Then, there was the list of criteria that all those ideas had to meet.


    The first criteria was not to get caught.


    The second criteria was to make the act fall under the minor villainy category.


    He wasn¡¯t going to kill anyone or maim them. That was a big no-no.


    And it can¡¯t just be anyone. Luke wasn¡¯t completely against involving other civilians, but when it was his first time doing something like this it felt wrong. Doubly so when he already had someone in mind that deserved it.


    But that presented more complications.


    ¡°Puck would probably just beat my ass,¡± Luke grumbled.


    Out of curiosity, he grabbed one of the more disappointing issues of Oblivion Files: Lost in the Cosmos and tried to rip it down the middle. The thick comic book tore only slightly before his fingers started to ache. ¡°Yeah, Puck would definitely kill me if I tried to hunt him down.¡±


    That was okay. The first step to anything new was accepting you were out of your league and you wouldn¡¯t be good at it immediately. The second step was finding something to teach you.


    Or someone.


    While he was cleaning away, Luke thumbed through the internet on his very not broken phone, looking through various assortments of news, guides, lists and laws. He needed to find out what people considered a minor crime, and he also needed to find out the easiest way to get away with it.


    It was harder than he had hoped. As you would guess, most of the information about committing crimes wasn¡¯t easy to find, and the real helpful stuff was taken down before Luke ever got the chance to see it. The one problem with the web being monitored was that you couldn¡¯t use it for evil. Well, not as easily.


    He still found some sweet spots, using vague non-descript wording to imply that certain alleys, bars and streets at certain times were easy spots to rob unsuspecting victims.


    Robbery could be a good crime. It was relatively harmless in the grand scheme of things, and there was a chance the System Seven, as it called itself, wouldn¡¯t care about him taking things of little value if he still gave the victims enough of a fright.


    They would get over a little fright.


    Still, even though he found traces of helpful information, Luke had learned something even more valuable.


    There wasn¡¯t a guide for evil. Inconsequential stuff, sure, but the world of villains wasn¡¯t a very welcoming place, and there was no gate of entry. A dog-eat-dog culture made getting your foot in the door next to impossible.


    And to top it all off, he still wanted Puck to pay.


    What¡¯s the point of being a villain and having a say if I just sit by and let people pull that shit on me.


    In the words of his father, that fucker would learn the hard way.


    To do that, Luke knew exactly what he needed to do. He¡¯d known it from the moment he climbed up the stairs towards his apartment and walked past room 204.


    His neighbour, also known as Bloom, the botany-based genetic nightmare who he was pretty sure had committed crimes against humanity on multiple occasions.


    She could tell him everything he needed to know.


    She could also help him with Puck.


    She could also feed me to her horrific creations.


    Whatever the case, if he asked, it was going to be a bit of a gamble. She might see him as a competitor even if they were far apart in strength and take him out early before he could grow.


    She might force him to become her minion.


    ¡°Let¡¯s hope she likes brownies,¡± Luke said to no one at all, pulling out an intact baking dish. ¡°I need to stop talking to myself.¡±


    Maybe his Fourth Person Syndrome had gotten worse.


    It was par for the course.


    ******************


    There was a knock at the door.


    Hard enough to be intentional, soft enough to not be an immediate threat.


    Cassandra opened her eyes slowly, stirring from her sleep. There was a moment of confusion as she found herself not in her bed, but in her nightgown with a book resting on her stomach and a glass of red spilled over her chaise. Her nightly routine was rather robust, and it generally didn¡¯t involve an empty bottle of wine shattered against her coffee table.


    It must¡¯ve been Henry. Cassandra thought, cupping her head as her super-enabled metabolism started erasing the last remnants of a hangover. It¡¯s always Henry.


    She could struggle to think of a person other than her ex that could send her spiralling like this. He was a real asshole. A psychopath, too, but that was honestly one of his more attractive qualities in her eyes.


    There was another knock at the door.


    Cassandra¡¯s already gloomy mood dimmed a peg.


    This second knock was lighter than the one that roused her from her slumber.


    Nervous.


    Whoever was outside didn¡¯t like that they hadn¡¯t gotten an answer.


    ¡°I swear if this isn¡¯t important, I¡¯m going to use their skin as a rag.¡± Cassandra groaned, eyeing the red stain on her chaise. It was imported.


    The supervillainess righted herself and called upon that special little essence in her heart. Her superpower extended her mind out. Suddenly, the one became the many as her body had long since stopped being the single carrier of her consciousness.


    Bulbs of light hanging from vines neatly across her apartment lit up in a soft orange luminance as her mind travelled to the door. A petal screwed between the crevice of the wall and the gutter outside her door bloomed open, barely bigger than a nail. Designed with just enough optic nerve, it showed her something that was most definitely not enough to warrant waking her.


    A nervous young man in bloodied cashier clothes holding¡­


    Is that brownies? A full tray of them from the looks of it, with steam still wafting off. She could tell it was still hot because the blondie had oven mitts on, nervously tapping his feet as he played hot potato with it.


    And it¡¯s just Luke.


    Her Normie next-door neighbour who always seemed to be alternating between motivated and miserable. He also talked to himself a lot more than a regular person should and always seemed extremely on edge during their limited interactions.


    But he was fun to mess with when she was bored.


    And he had brownies.


    And she was hungover.


    Coming to an older woman''s house in the middle of the night bringing treats, hmmm? She stood up, taking in her reflection for a moment. Midnight black hair spilled over her shoulder, contrasting with her emerald eyes and the streaks of green veins that crawled up her neckline. With her nightrobe wrapped around gently, she might look less like a serial killer than normal.


    Maybe just enough to keep the young man at ease.


    Worst comes to worst, I can just scare him into leaving the brownies. Cassandra told herself, waltzing towards the door and opening it to the sight of a very haggard-looking neighbour. She leaned against the door, giving him a questioning look while her eyes shifted between the brownies and his eyes.


    ¡°Luke? Do you know how late it is?¡± She asked, truthfully not knowing herself.


    ¡°Right, sorry,¡± Luke said, not sounding sorry in the slightest as his eyes moved a little bit too frantically. ¡°But I brought brownies.¡±


    ¡°I can see that,¡± Cassandra said. ¡°Would you like to tell me why you¡¯re bringing brownies to my house in the middle of the night? I¡¯m awfully curious.¡±


    ¡°I uhhhh¡­¡± Luke paused and looked around the empty parking lot. ¡°...could we talk about it inside?¡±


    ¡°Is this your version of a confident approach?¡± Cassandra asked, leaning against the door. ¡°Because if that''s the case, hon, you can just leave the brownies at the door.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean-¡± Luke paused, looking at himself, then her, then around the both of them fully taking in exactly what this looked like. ¡°Oooooh. Oh, god no! Wait, no I mean you look lovely but ah-¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She interrupted with a smile.


    ¡°Look, I need a favour.¡± He said forcefully, far less flustered than she would¡¯ve expected. He wasn¡¯t on his tippy toes around her tonight. Strange.


    ¡°I don¡¯t offer that kind of favour here, Lukas.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°No! Not that! I need help from Bloom.¡± Luke emphasised, whispering the last bit. ¡°Not Cass.¡±


    It was cute how he tried to act like her identity was a secret. She wasn¡¯t one to flaunt it, but you could figure it out with a quick search on the web.


    Help from Bloom, huh? That was not in character, especially not from someone as shit scared of her as Luke acted like he was half the time. What made it even more curious was the fact that she wasn¡¯t some type of Fixer who was known to deal with Normie''s problems. It was partly insulting to think that anyone would come to her with problems of the everyday variety.


    She might not be The Silence, but she wasn¡¯t some punk.


    Still, the supervillainess took a moment to reevaluate Luke. The blood on his clothes spoke of something violent, but he didn¡¯t seem to have any obvious wounds. So, it''s not healing. He had taken the time to bake fresh brownies, so clearly this was planned. Urgent enough to wake me up, but not life or death urgent. He also seemed far more composed around her than he ever had been previously, his eyes flickering with a vehement focus she recognised.


    He¡¯s got Star-Eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got five minutes to explain.¡± She finally decided, pulling the door open to let him pass. ¡°And you better hope those brownies are delicious if I don¡¯t like what you say.¡±


    His eyes had a brief flash of relief before they reverted back to that hyper-focused glow. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Your five minutes started when you knocked on my door.¡± She added.


    Cassandra had never seen a person rush inside so hastily.


    *******************


    [Deadline: 23:33:56]


    ¡°So in essence, you want me to help you kill someone?¡± Bloom, aka Cassandra, said, coming to that conclusion from Luke¡¯s long-winded and very rushed explanation. Which left out key points like System Seven and tripping balls because she didn¡¯t need to know those specifics.


    Luke shook his head, snacking on the singular slice of brownie left. ¡°Kill is a strong word. I just want to ruff him up.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Cass said, sounding quite sarcastic.


    He couldn¡¯t see her face because she was lounging much too deep on her strange one-person couch, but the cashier would bet she was grinning. Cassandra didn¡¯t take him very seriously, that much had been made clear every time she tried to egg him on. Which bugged him, because Luke felt all of this was extremely serious.


    Having explained everything from Darkspark putting out a hit, to Puck basically triggering his Exodus Luke would¡¯ve expected a different reaction. But no, apparently all the shitty things that had happened to him were unimpressive in the supervillainess''s eyes. She also had gone uncharacteristically silent when had elaborated on what he truly wanted.


    Mentorship into the ins and outs of not getting caught. Or at the very least a pointer in the right direction. Any advice was welcome.


    I think she only let me in because of the brownies. Is this what it feels like to be used?


    ¡°I think it¡¯s important we establish a few things first before we do any roughing up, Luke.¡± Her head popped up over the fancy couch and Luke tried his hardest not to look at the green veins running up her neck and into her mouth. ¡°For starters, I¡¯m not going to dispose of you just because you have powers now, even if you live in my motel.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting to know.¡±


    ¡°But if you¡¯re planning on being a villain this is not your base of operations, okay?¡±  Cassandra said. ¡°I don¡¯t need small fry coming here and breaking shit looking for you.¡±


    I mean that''s exactly what Puck did. He chose to keep that to himself, just like he chose not to ask about the wine stains on the rug or the smashed empty bottle Cassandra seemed insistent on ignoring. ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°Secondly, I¡¯m not going to mentor you or give you tips on how to live this life.¡± She sunk back into her couch. ¡°If you want that, go be a superhero. It¡¯s their way of doing things. In their world, that''s how things work, but in mine, you gotta walk your own path. Because you can¡¯t trust me and I can¡¯t trust you.¡±


    That¡¯s a very pessimistic way of viewing things. But it was probably accurate. The people that took the path he¡¯d stumbled into weren¡¯t generally good. There wasn¡¯t much of a reason to believe that helping one another wouldn¡¯t lead to them stabbing you in the back.


    Backstabbing was pretty standard practice.


    Luke leaned against the countertop, admiring how nice the marble was. Cassadra''s apartment was a far cry away from his in terms of quality. Then again she did also have vines and greenery growing all over the place, with living bulbs for light that glowed in an eerie orange.


    Probably should¡¯ve listened to the alarms in my head when I walked in here. If she wasn¡¯t going to help him, the cashier didn¡¯t see a reason to stick around. He¡¯d just have to figure something else out.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just figure out things by my lonesome then, thanks for the advice.¡± Luke nodded, stepping towards the door.


    A vine sprung from the ceiling and coiled around his wrist before he could get even a step closer.


    And now I die like a dumbass for walking into Bloom''s apartment. Good job me, you didn¡¯t even live a day as a supervillain.


    ¡°Hold your horses, young man, you didn¡¯t let me finish,¡± Bloom said, getting up from her couch and collapsing back into a chair, facing him this time. Predatory emerald eyes looked him up and down like an easy meal. ¡°I won''t teach you anything, but that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t do each other favours.¡±


    She flicked her finger and the vine slipped off his wrist. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with favours between neighbours.¡±


    Luke didn¡¯t like her grin. He didn¡¯t like her grin one bit.


    ¡°Come, sit,¡± Bloom said, gesturing to the couch.


    Option A, leave and don¡¯t get yourself into another potentially life-ending deal and complete DDE by just robbing someone, or pissing on a tree? Does public indecency qualify- Luke dismissed that line of thought and evaluated option A. It was sound, safe and the right selection. It was what he would¡¯ve done before he¡¯d gotten his powers.


    But.


    Option B, sit on the couch, deal with the consequences of whatever Bloom could want from me and potentially break Puck¡¯s kneecaps. Stupid, rash and completely unnecessary. But¡­ super. A lot more super than just testing if public indecency was a minimum enough of a villainous act.


    Luke briefly weighed his options. His brain, rightly so, told him to run as fast as he could out of there. But his instinct and that funny lightness emanating from his heart told him to just ride the roller coaster of life.


    The cashier found himself on the couch before reason could win out.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t lace these things did you?¡± Bloom asked, twirling her wine glass. ¡°Because your eyes are kinda freaky right now.¡±


    Luke was well aware. He could see it reflected in the window behind her.


    ¡°I figured it was just a post-Exodus thing.¡± Luke shrugged.


    Or a manic episode. All he knew was he felt focused. Focused and free. Free of thought, free of body and free mind.


    ¡°They call that being Star-eyed.¡± Cassandra nodded. ¡°So what do you do, neighbour?¡±


    ¡°Wayda mean?¡±


    ¡°Your power dumbass. What is it?¡±


    Luke shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t really figured that out yet.¡±


    Cassandra froze momentarily, seemingly a bit shell-shocked as she raised her eyebrows. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Your power comes from that tingling sensation in your heart right?¡± Luke asked. That''s what it said online.


    ¡°It can vary, but yes generally people feel their power in their heart to begin with. It changes as you grow.¡±


    ¡°Well then how do I¡­¡± Luke flailed his hands around, trying to conjure some kind of effect. Nothing happened. ¡°...use it.¡±


    Cassandra gave him a strange look. He gave her a strange look back. She tilted her head at him for a moment as if he were a curiosity.


    ¡°Using your powers is like breathing. You should know intrinsically.¡± Cassandra said, then offered her own theory. ¡°You could be a Blank.¡±


    Somehow I doubt that. Blanks were technically the rarest of all types of powers, possessing abilities that were constant. Most of the time they weren¡¯t even aware of their own Exodus nor that they had abilities to begin with. From what Luke had heard they only ever caught on to their powers when the results of them started becoming obvious.


    But for the most part, Blank¡¯s powers were subtle and discreet.


    Unconsciously Luke¡¯s eyes wandered over to the glowing red deadline that stayed permanently within sight, slowly ticking down. There was no way System Seven qualified as being a Blank, but Luke had never heard of anything like it and wasn¡¯t very inclined to talk about it.


    He also felt like Cassandra would push the subject. It was fair, knowing what he could do would give her a measure of security that could replace actual trust.


    So just tip-toe around it. The rewards section of his DDE quest came to mind. The things it offered him sounded awfully like faucets for a superpower, especially the skill. A fog started to creep into his head, like a canvas absorbing all his ideas and leaving behind a plan.


    It felt bizarre.


    ¡°I¡­ feel like getting Puck back will make me¡­ stronger.¡± Luke tapped on his heart to emphasise the point. ¡°In here. I can¡¯t really explain it well. It feels like my whole being just needs to do this.¡±


    A half-truth. He knew for a fact he would get stronger if he committed a crime but it didn¡¯t need to be Puck. Luke just wanted it to.


    ¡°A revenge type of deal, huh?¡± Cassandra questioned and Luke felt as if he¡¯d piqued her interest. ¡°I¡¯ve seen something similar before. I can work with that.¡±


    Luke frowned. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°That you¡¯re worth helping because you can be useful to me,¡± Cassandra said. ¡°The brownies bought you my time, the same way your power can buy my help. Transactions are the key to this life.¡±


    That was an awfully pragmatic way of looking at their interaction. Pragmatic in ways that disturbed Luke a little, thinking of himself as some tool rather then a person to be sympathised with. Then again, the cold calculating nature of the transaction Bloom offered warmed his heart a bit.


    Like a villain should.


    ¡°So what do you want?¡± Luke asked, knowing he was treading on thin ice. ¡°Specifically.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like you to participate in the Pit this weekend, that¡¯s all,¡± Cassandra said candidly. She smiled as she spoke. ¡°I get a commission for any newbie I send in there, got a deal with one of the promoters.¡±


    That¡¯s¡­ not the worst idea actually.


    The Pit was a pretty notorious attraction of Venus City, located just far enough on the outskirts to avoid police but just close enough to draw in a crowd. There were many underground fighting rings but none had as much money, history or respect behind them.


    Nor did they have an emperor, willing to part with millions to put fights together between the super-abled of the world. How it avoided being shut down by E.R.A.O while being incredibly illegal was beyond Luke, but he knew for certain it drew quite a crowd.


    There were constant mentions of it in every superhero discussion, whether it was betting, experiences or just excitement about upcoming matches. It was also known to be brutal but not terminal and the cherry on top of the coliseum was simple.


    Anyone could sign up.


    If you had powers, the emperor wanted to see them, regardless of how useless or boring they might seem.


    An easy payday for newbie Supes which somehow didn¡¯t discriminate between villain or hero.


    Plenty of well-renowned heroes had clips of them in the Pit. Hell, everyone eventually ended up fighting there.


    Luke had never been himself because of the ticket prices but he¡¯s always wanted to go. Although he¡¯d never imagined himself participating. Maybe he could crush two birds with one stone.


    There¡¯s just one tincy, wincy little problem.


    ¡°Would the cut you get come out of my winnings?¡± Luke asked, acutely aware of how her lounging body language was an attempt to relax him and show power.


    She scoffed and held a hand to her mouth, giggling a little like he¡¯d said something funny. Those green veins pulsed on her neckline and the bulbs of natural light faded for a moment.


    Luke felt his heart tighten.


    ¡°Of course not, Cesar would never allow anything like that. I do get more if you win, so do at least try for me.¡± She said, smiling again.


    It didn¡¯t reach her eyes. They were the same dark emerald green, devoid of emotion.


    She¡¯s lying.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if she was lying about taking some of his money or something else, but he knew for certain she wasn¡¯t telling him the whole truth. The question was what he was going to do about it.


    Red flags Luke. Red. Flags.


    ¡°I''m happy to trade favours,¡± Luke said, keeping his hand firmly tucked at his side. He was not shaking hands again. ¡°As neighbours.¡±


    Cassandra''s smile finally extended to her eyes which lit up like she¡¯d just unwrapped a present.


    ¡°Perfect. Do you by chance have a mask?¡± She asked.


    Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever need one. Until now.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°When do you want this done?¡±


    ¡°Before 2 am tomorrow.¡± If he didn¡¯t do it by then he¡¯d suffer ¡°ouchies¡± and he didn¡¯t want to find out what that meant.


    She leaned forward, keeping that hungry smile. ¡°Then you better go get one. Along with some rope. I¡¯ll text you a list.¡±


    Then she kicked him out of her apartment before he could say another word. Being manhandled out the door by vines.


    [Deadline: 23:25:45]

 Chapter 2: A Daily Dose Of What You Deserve

    ¡°No sir, we don''t have it in that colour,¡± Amanda said in her calmest tone. ¡°If you¡¯d like I can search for it in other stores and see if they have stock-¡°


    ¡°No, forget it.¡± The grumpy old man said, waltzing away from the costume section.


    He muttered something about today''s youth as he waved her off. The old codger was probably just going to find another worker and badger them until he got an answer he got an answer he wanted. Obviously that wouldn¡¯t happen, but the thick skulls of retail customers never seemed to allow that simple concept in.


    If Amanda said they didn¡¯t have something in store, she wasn¡¯t trying to hide it from people. The administration managing inventory was just shit at their jobs.


    Don¡¯t let it get to you. She sighed inwardly as she began to stock the shelves again. People were just people and sometimes they were lousy, especially when there was no punishment for it.


    In those times she tried to just drift off and think about all the good things her job got her. Discounts, free food at the built-in Vicburger, money to go to conventions as see her celebrities crushes because there was zero chance her parents were paying for that.


    Apparently, if her free time wasn¡¯t devoted to studying for university it was beneath her parent''s notice.


    They were lousy people more often than not.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± A voice called, pulling Amanda out of her thoughts.


    She snapped her head in the owner''s direction before she could think to not look like she wanted to kill someone.


    ¡°Ahhhhh¡­ I can go find someone else if you¡¯re busy.¡± The tall blonde man offered, slowly his trolley away.


    ¡°No! It¡¯s fine.¡± Amanda said, putting a death grip on his trolley so he couldn¡¯t escape. Too many disappointed customers meant another write-up, which meant she¡¯d have to talk to Nathan. No one liked Nathan. ¡°What can I help you with?¡±


    The tall blonde looked hesitant to accept her offer before eventually giving it. ¡°I need a mask, preferably one that covers the whole face.¡±


    It was a strange request considering that Halloween wasn¡¯t close by but who was she to judge? People made strange requests sometimes and the best thing to do was just go with the flow. So long as it didn¡¯t break store policy it wasn¡¯t her problem.


    ¡°Going to a costume party or something?¡± She said, making small talk as she led him to the lines of masks in a separate row.


    ¡°Something like that.¡± He nodded, inspecting the masks.


    Her eyes, trying not to stare at that jawline, wandered towards the man¡¯s trolley he perused through the wall of masks occasionally mumbling to himself.


    The comics weren¡¯t that strange, nor the black windbreaker. Standard shopping things. But it got weird when she noticed the cans of pepper spray, balaclava, handcuffs and a concerning amount of thick rope. There were also chains bundled inside a plastic bin that had a 2-litre water bottle and a bedsheet.


    What concerned her the most was the sheer amount of forty per cent proof alcohol bottles stacked next to a dozen rags and a box of matches.


    Huh¡­ must be a weird party. She could think of a handful of reasons that one would buy that colourful combination of items, and frankly, Amanda didn¡¯t want to be involved. Not her peanuts, not her monkeys.


    ¡°Hey¡­ you mind if I ask you a weird question.¡± The tall, blonde, possible kidnapper with a killer jawline asked, spooking her.


    Her mind blanked for a moment before her customer service instinct kicked in.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Amanda said with a cheery smile.


    He held up two masks. One was an oni mask, with a black base, red horns and sharp white teeth. If Amanda remembered correctly it was meant to represent a demon. The other was a masquerade mask that covered just the eyes, with a black base and flowery silver accents.


    ¡°Which of these would look better on me?¡± He asked, flashing a smile.


    So, are the choices horror movies or romance movies that turn into horror? She thought, pointing a finger at the masquerade mask.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± He said, putting the oni mask back on the wall and throwing the masquerade mask in his cart.


    The man strolled away, rolling his cart down the aisle and leaving Amanda feeling very conflicted about what had just happened. She looked at the cameras recording them above, then at the blonde hair fading into the horde of people in the store, then back at the masquerade masks she¡¯d stacked on the wall.


    It probably wasn¡¯t a big deal.


    She probably shouldn¡¯t bother going to her manager to ensure they¡¯d gotten a recording of that jawline.


    It was just a fleeting question in her mind that made her unsure.


    A silly, completely baseless question¡­


    ¡­Did I just help a serial killer?


    ***********


    I hate last-minute jobs. Jeremy groaned, spying on his target through a prodigy-tech scope he¡¯d picked up from the black market. His feet tapped against his car seat as he waited patiently for his target to exit the recreational centre in the shady part of town. It was a nervous tick he¡¯d picked up after a job gone bad.


    He hated sitting still. Jeremy was too open, too prone to attack. It might sound paranoid but during his career as a pseudo-supervillain for hire he¡¯d picked up some real enemies and some of them were mean pieces of shit that wouldn¡¯t mind cutting off a few of his fingers to send a message.


    ¡°And today on Ways of the Future we have Mr Magic showing off his new Anti-Swarm technology, now Mr Magic will you tell us how this weapon thwarts those vicious hungry bug-¡±


    Nope. Jeremy thought, switching off the radio. He did not need to hear about the Swarm. Not when he was focusing on a job. Growing up a survivor of the outside made it pretty hard not to break into a cold sweat every time you heard about those things. It wasn¡¯t something he needed to worry about anymore.


    He tried not to think about it. To recall the sights. Instead, he focused on the sweet smell of cinnamon coming from his bakery delights, then on the sample picture of his target. Generally, the street villain fixer Puck didn¡¯t do last-minute jobs. But after how well the last one had paid, Puck otherwise known as Jeremy had decided that maybe it was a venture worth investing in.


    Regardless of how sketchy the last one had been. Good money like that was getting harder and harder to come by for Jeremy, mainly because most of his contacts only ever offered him risky shit he wouldn¡¯t do. As morally reprehensive as some might see it, Jeremy much preferred beating the breaks off some Normie than trying to rob a Prodigy base of operations or kidnap a supervillain''s daughter.


    Jeremy didn¡¯t feel guilt for what he did, because he felt the world needed people like him. In some strange and twisted way.


    ¡°How long is this granny going to take.¡± He mumbled, looking at the darkening sky.


    The elderly lady, Joanna Sky, had become his target through an extreme amount of money from someone high enough up the chain that Jeremy didn¡¯t get a name. That happened sometimes. While he considered himself a Fixer, he was still technically just hired muscle. But he was learning every day. Making connections, building a resume, and showing diligence.


    Soon he wouldn¡¯t need Crypt.


    Soon he¡¯d be fully independent.


    Movement caught Jeremy''s eyes, stealing his focus. An old lady who looked exactly like Joanna was shuffling her way down the street to her car. For an older lady, she had a nice ride. Not a prodigy-tech vehicle, but a classic Mustang like the one Finite used to drive in comic books. Jeremy switched the keys in the ignition, following her as she slowly drove away.


    He always made sure to stay at least five car lengths behind. It was easier that way, to keep out of sight. From the information he¡¯d been given, she lived in the shady side of town right around where his last job had been. The part of town big-time Supes paid to keep cop-free so smaller-time Supes could get their fill.


    Someone like him didn¡¯t have the money to bail himself out of getting Cuffed if he got caught.


    And I¡¯d rather die than go back outside. He shivered just thinking about the world outside the miracle of creation that surrounded Venus City. It was funny how much of a parallel the city painted to the outside world. All flashy neon billboards plastered across skyscrapers all over the centre, petering out into suburban normality and the occasional Supe-infested area. All of it was so bliss, even in the chaos, that one might forget the horror that waited outside.


    Jermey did not forget.


    Jermey could never forget.


    The Supe shook his head, ridding himself of those thoughts as he glanced at the baseball bat sitting in his passenger seat along with the hockey mask.


    His target pulled into her home driveway and Jermey slowed, parking his car next to a park that ran opposite to it. The park was almost empty as night drew nearer and it gave him ample vision of the quaint two-story dollhouse Joanna lived in. There was no reason for anyone to find his car suspicious and he¡¯d had his windshield fitted with a prodigy-tech tint that fizzled facial features to cameras and memory alike. No one would know a thing.


    After about thirty minutes of surveillance Jeremy was pretty confident Joanna didn¡¯t have any pets, cameras or any security beyond a couple of locks that were not super strength proof, which was a bit odd in a way because the rest of her neighbours had what he had come to expect as normal. Cameras, prodigy-hounds, hell one seemed to have an automated turret.


    Could just be because she''s old. Old people had a tendency to forget they lived in a super world, but that still struck him as strange. Something was off but Jeremy couldn¡¯t put his finger on it so he just read over Joanna¡¯s information packet again. She seemed like a pretty normal old lady, with an obsession for bingo and a bucketload of money left over from a long cheapskate life. Maybe that was why the security was so lax.


    I wonder if I could find that money. From his experience, the older you got, the less you trusted the infrastructure of the world around you, leading to certain behaviours, like taking out a large portion of your savings in cash and storing it in your walls. Easy picking for one such as himself.


    Jeremy tapped his feet against the pedal, waiting for night to fully swallow any hesitation he had. When the darkness arrived and presented him with the perfect opportunity, the supervillain couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was amiss. Not wanting to get cold feet, Jermey pulled himself out of the car and donned his hockey mask, ensuring the weightlifting belt he kept around his waist was tightly fitted as well.


    Instantly his body felt stronger, nimbler, colder and much, much more aggressive as his power kicked into effect. Sport Spirit, the name he¡¯d eventually settled on for his power, was quite simple. Whatever sports gear he was wearing, he gained power relating to.


    If he wore Jordans, he could jump over buildings. If he wore track shoes, he could run at full sprint for hours without breaking a sweat. And if he wore boxing gloves nothing happened because for reasons beyond Jeremy¡¯s understanding combat sports were banned by his power.


    It was a pretty big caveat to have, although not as annoying as other caveats his unique power possessed.


    ¡°Guess that¡¯s what I get for being obsessed with hockey,¡± Jeremy mumbled, sneaking towards the front door.


    A quick click of his Zapper, a handheld small-scale EMP killed the nearest street lights and the TV noises emanating from inside Joanna¡¯s living room. He checked the windows stealthy, finding her absent and came to the conclusion the granny had a problem just gone to sleep. Then he grabbed the door handle and twisted it until the lock snapped, making a fairly loud crunch.


    Jeremy waited a moment for any sound or movement in response. Everything in the house was still and silent.


    It looked like things would be as things would be as easy as he thought. All he had to do was sneak up to Joanna¡¯s bedroom and give her the fright of her life, then tie her up and loot her house. The basics.


    Easy does it. He thought, sneaking into the house and carefully treading on the creaky wood floor. Just a few steps to the staircase and then¡­


    He froze, his eyes snapping to a certain vine lazily hanging from above the stairwell. Quickly he tried to backstep step but-


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Suprise attack!¡± Someone shouted from above him as he felt something heavy and hard crash into the back of his head.


    There was little to no pain but the shock of it made Jeremy unsteady enough to stumble forwards, before he whipped around, swinging his baseball bat indiscriminately at whoever had just hit him. The person who¡¯d dropped from the ceiling barely managed to snake away before his bat crashed down, shattering part of the wooden floor.


    Jeremy growled unconsciously in annoyance as woodchip sprayed around him, keeping one eye on the retreating figure and another on that vine that was so out of place. He knew who that vine belonged to, what he didn¡¯t know was who the hell just hit him.


    The figure, Jeremy guessed, was a man by his silhouette who wore all black with a windbreaker and a balaclava underneath a fancy mask that exposed his yellow eyes. The man kept a cautious eye on him and a tight grip on his axe which now had a blunted end. On the axes end a small smidge of red dripped eerie.


    Jeremy reached to where the man had struck, feeling a small cut and a numb pain at the base of his neck.


    He cut me but he was trying to cut my head off. So much for a warning. Luckily the supervillain was used to violence and took it in stride. He needed no words to explain how he felt about being attacked from above midway through a job.


    Instead, Jeremy simply lunged at the masked man inhumanly quick. He felt the bat in his hands blend with reality as he tried to take the man''s head off like he was smacking a ball on a tee. The man dodged back towards the dining table but he wasn¡¯t nearly quick enough to stop Jeremy.


    Unfortunately, that looming vine was, stretching out and restraining Jeremy¡¯s wrist just as he was about to end the man in front of him.


    ¡°Straight to trying to kill me?¡± The man said, huffing a little as he stared at the bat. ¡°You don¡¯t mess around do you Puck.¡±


    Crypt isn¡¯t an amateur, he wouldn¡¯t just give me a crooked job by accident. Jeremy thought, pulling his wrist and testing the vine¡¯s strength. It must¡¯ve been as strong as steel but definitely breakable. This was a set-up. It had to be. There was zero chance that a Fixer with as much experience as Crypt wouldn¡¯t know that he was giving bad information. Which meant it had to be intentional.


    He¡¯d been lured here and someone had paid Crypt to do it¡­ or the old bastard had sensed Jeremy''s growing desire to become his own Fixer and wanted to take out the competition. Honestly, it was more than likely both. Villain life 101, you were either useful or you were an enemy.


    It took him barely a few seconds to consider all his options. Escape was the only way out, but Jeremy knew he wouldn¡¯t be able to just leave. He¡¯d heard about the vines before and he¡¯d knew exactly who they belonged to. A real supervillain. Someone dangerous enough to hold territory in Venus City.


    Turf that Jeremy belatedly realised, he was now on. There was no escaping Bloom, especially not in a house she¡¯d prepped full of her flora. There was no fighting either. Which meant the man in front of him was his only option.


    I have to take him hostage.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Jeremy asked, buying time to work through how he¡¯d walk out alive. ¡°One of Bloom¡¯s grunts?¡±


    ¡°Something like that¡± His attacker answered vaguely. ¡°I don''t expect much peacefulness from a dude wearing a hockey mask but you resort to violence incredibly quickly you know.¡±


    ¡°You tried to cut my head off, dude,¡± Jeremy said.


    The man simply shrugged


    ¡°I did warn you.¡±


    ¡°By shouting surprise attack?¡±


    ¡°Not my fault you didn¡¯t listen.¡±


    ¡°How important would you say you are to Bloom?¡± Jeremy asked, gripping his bat tight. The man was right, he was violent. He felt like very violently separating his head from his shoulders. But he couldn¡¯t waste a good hostage.


    The man clicked his tongue. ¡°I mean we¡¯re neighbours sooooo¡­¡±


    Good enough for me. Jeremy thought, pulling as hard as he could on the vine and snapping it off his wrist. He felt a burning sensation coming from the lifting belt strapped around his waist as his power interacted with it, drawing unnatural strength into his limbs. He lunged at the masked man without warning, barely giving the assailant time to react. Jeremy didn¡¯t want to kill his, so he aimed low with his bat. Crushing a shin or two would give him the opportunity he needed.


    Unfortunately, more vines shot out from the roof, smashing through the plaster above and wrapping around his limbs. Jeremy powered through them all in one motion, but it gave the man just enough time to roll over the dining table. So Jeremy planted one foot and used his other to kick the dining table into the masked man.


    He let out a pained groan as he was shunted back into the wall, trapped between it and the wall. There was a small crunch that sounded like a broken rib, which was music to Jeremy¡¯s ears. The vines were quick, but they weren¡¯t quick enough to stop him.


    He rushed towards the table just as the masked man laughed and pulled a can from his windbreaker, spraying something Jeremy accidentally rushed into. The supervillain was momentarily confused, taking a hesitant step back before his eyes started to burn. He blinked and they burned more.


    Jeremy grabbed at them, trying to adjust his hockey mask to cover them. It was a futile effort. The burning crawled past his eyes and into his skull, like ants squirming into his head.


    ¡°Prodigy pepper spray.¡± The masked man said with a pained laugh, twirling the can in his hand. ¡°Helluva thing, ain¡¯t it.¡±


    Fuck it.


    Screw hostage-taking, he was going to kill this worm and then take his chances with Bloom.


    **************


    Uh-oh. Luke thought as Puck seemed to take his joke a little too personally, charging at him like a raging gorilla.


    Cassandra¡¯s vines sprung up out of the ground and roof slowing him down somewhat while pushing the table forward just enough for Luke to slip through, rolling out of the way. Their arrangement for this whole thing was quite simple, she would help when and if he was about to die, but other than that Luke just wanted her to make the whole thing fairer. Because even with all the tools he¡¯d picked up, there was a fat chance in hell he could take Puck on alone. The man had actual superpowers whereas at the moment Luke was restricted to much more human abilities.


    And a much more human constitution, considering the hot pain coming from the side of his torso. Luke tried to ignore it and power through, swinging his axe full force at Puck¡¯s ankles while he tried to overcome the storm of vines slithering through the entire house.


    He heard a curse as his axe buried itself in the base of Puck¡¯s foot, barely making a dent and drawing a small amount of blood before a baseball bat came flying down towards his head. Luke fell backwards away from it, employing more of his pepper spray to try and ward off the man.


    It didn¡¯t work.


    Whatever shock, pain or annoyance that held him back the first time seemed to be ignored by the all-consuming rage that Puck felt.


    Well, that¡¯s not good.


    ¡°Plan B!¡± Luke shouted as the inhumanly strong Puck closed in on him.


    Luke pushed himself up as a green growth of thick braided vines tore the entire wall apart and swung at Puck wildly, knocking the hired muscle down for a moment. He swatted the next strike away with his baseball bat, causing a sound as loud as a car crash and vibrating the whole house. Luke used the momentary chance to bounce and ran his ass towards his duffle bag of goodies hidden outside by the car.


    A couple of Joanna¡¯s, a fake victim people could hire, neighbours had stirred out of their homes but all of them looked surprisingly¡­ calm about what was going on.


    ¡°You one of Mrs Sky¡¯s guests?¡± a middle-aged-looking man in his bathrobe shouted, standing by the letterbox on the other end of the street.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m her grandson!¡± Luke lied, reaching his car and pulling the many bottles packed with gravel from his bag.


    ¡°Should I call the cops?¡± The middle-aged man shouted back.


    ¡°Mind your own fucking business!¡± Luke shouted back.


    He could hear the crashing coming from inside the house and the cashier took that as motivation to speed up. Quickly he tossed rags halfway into each bottle, grabbing matches and lighting each end one after the other. The smell thick scent of a burning rag mixed with alcoholic fumes, almost caused his eyes to water as he finished one surprise after the next.


    Puck threw himself through the front window, taking brick, plaster and glass with him as he tore through the house in a frenzy. He wasted no time brushing off the rubble and sprinting towards Luke like a dog with rabies. In response, Luke started hurling his impromptu molotovs at the Supe with reckless abandon, hoping to catch him by surprise.


    The untrained, frankly unprepared cashier missed his first two throws, splattering hot flaming gravel all over Joanna¡¯s finely mowed lawn. Puck did need to make an effort to dodge them though, slowing down just enough for Luke to nail him with molotov.


    The Supe made a pained yelp as shards of flaming gravel exploded towards him, setting Puck ablaze and stopping him in his tracks. For all the endurance his superpowers gave him, he wasn¡¯t immune to thousands of boiling hot pieces of gravel sticking to his skin and being dosed in fire.


    Puck rolled on the ground trying to put out the fire as Luke grabbed his pained side with one hand and hefted a gas bottle out of the car Bloom had rented with the other. The thing was heavy, especially so with one hand, but more than that for the briefest of moments Luke felt a little conflicted about what he was about to do.


    What he was doing didn¡¯t feel like reality. Luring someone into a house and attacking them with an axe was not what he usually did on his sick days. In some way, it felt wrong. This wasn¡¯t his life, these weren¡¯t the things he did. Until a day ago, he was just a regular person.


    And now¡­


    [Deadline: 5:10:43]


    Things were different. Maybe he would regret it later. Maybe this whole thing would be a little too much for him at some point. But at that moment, Luke felt like being a supervillain was exactly what he needed.


    It was fun.


    It was freedom.


    It was heaving a gas bottle above his head and slamming it back into Puck¡¯s head, who was far too distracted with being on fire to react in time. The gas bottle made a doink sound as it banged against his head. Puck somehow pulled the willpower together through the pain to grab at Luke¡¯s ankle but was restrained by more vines that sprung from the ground. They coiled around his body and restrained him completely.


    Allowing Luke the right every good villain deserved.


    The freedom to monologue.


    ¡°Puck, Ima give you two options. You can either tell me how your power works so I can restrain you¡­¡± Luke said, kneeling down the same way Puck had once done in front of him. ¡°...or I can beat you unconscious with this gas bottle.¡±


    He was originally planning on pouring gasoline on Puck if the Molotovs didn¡¯t slow him down, but now that seemed a little much. Even for a psycho piece of shit like Puck.


    Maybe it¡¯s that¡¯s still a good idea.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­¡± Puck started with a pained groan, spitting out glowing red gravel. The fire didn¡¯t seem to be killing him, but it looked like it hurt. A lot. ¡°...kill you both.¡±


    Then Puck spat at his feet. It was quite a familiar sight, and very satisfying for Luke to be on the other side. He patted the supervillain on the shoulder, smiling behind his balaclava.


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± Luke said, hefting the gas bottle above his head again.


    Before Puck could say another threat or curse at him Luke slammed it on his head as hard as he could. A pained sound escaped Puck¡¯s mouth. A sound that only someone who was still conscious could make. So Luke raised the gas bottle up again. Then again, then again until on the fifth time with a bloody welt on the back of his head, the Supe finally went silent.


    Luke breathed a sigh of relief now step one of his revenge was done, collapsing against the rented car. Sweat was clinging to all the tight black clothing he was wearing and the balaclava was much more stuffy than he had anticipated it being. His side was in more and more pain as the adrenaline slowly left him, giving Luke a pretty clear view of where he stood compared to Puck.


    This was such a dumb idea. Without powers, he stood virtually no chance against Puck, which made the sting of getting beat up and robbed by him a little sweeter. There wasn¡¯t anything he could¡¯ve done at that moment.


    But now?


    ¡°Probably still nothing,¡± Luke mumbled, watching a mound of grass burst in front of him. ¡°But I made it work.¡±


    A giant flower-like petal crawled out of the ground and bloomed open, revealing a woman in a lab coat and khakis. Apparently Bloom showed up to the job looking every bit the botanist she was. Luke couldn¡¯t fault her for that, not every Supe had to have a ridiculous-looking spandex outfit made from Prodigy material.


    She propped up glasses Luke assumed she didn¡¯t actually need, surveying the scene in front of her before giving an approving nod.


    ¡°Not very subtle but you got the job done,¡± Bloom said, shoeing away the spectators at a distance. ¡°Did you feel your ability work yet?¡±


    The red timer still hovered above his head.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Luke grunted, kicking Puck¡¯s face only to hop back in pain. The dude felt like he was made of metal. ¡°Ow, ow, ow I don¡¯t think it¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°You beat him unconscious?¡± Bloom said, then her eyes narrowed. For just a second, Luke felt a wave of dread run through him. ¡°You don¡¯t have to kill him, do you?¡±


    The way she said it so slowly and the way the vines perked up as she spoke gave the cashier a very distinct impression. There was a wrong answer to this question.


    That¡¯s definitely a maybe. Frankly, he was surprised DDE hadn¡¯t already completed it. He¡¯d already stumbled his way into a litany of crimes like assault, home invasion and arson. Apparently that wasn¡¯t enough. Maybe there was something specific he had to-


    [System Seven Notice*]


    [You have already subconsciously selected a suitable objective for ¡°Daily Dose of Evil¡±. Until this objective is complete the quest will not finish.]


    Huh¡­ would¡¯ve been nice to know that beforehand. Luke thought, tempted to flip the red words off.


    [System Seven Notice*]


    [Next time ask dumbass]


    It can talk? He was learning more and more about System Seven every day. Luke tried to barrage it with more questions about the specifics of his abilities and everything else he could think of all at once but System Seven stayed quiet. Making it clear that it could reply to him, but it didn¡¯t have to. Which was very annoying.


    At least it answered the most relevant question he had.


    And he was pretty sure he knew exactly what the ¡°suitable objective¡± was.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t need to kill him.¡± Luke finally answered, causing the tension between him and Bloom to simmer slightly. ¡°But we do need to take him somewhere private. You wouldn¡¯t happen to own a warehouse by chance?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Bloom groaned in annoyance.


    ¡°Reasons,¡± Luke answered dismissively.


    ¡°Since I¡¯m helping you and we¡¯re going to be using my warehouse, you¡¯re going to need to tell me what reasons. I can¡¯t just let you torture someone on my property.¡± Bloom said in that serious, unfun tone of hers.


    ¡°Well its not toture per say¡­¡± Luke lied, moving his hands around trying to think of how to say it gently. ¡°...I just need to break a part of him.¡±


    ¡°Causing permanent psychological damage on a fellow Supe when not in due course of self-defence is a textbook way to get Cuffed, Luke,¡± Bloom said sounding completely unconvinced.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s a physical part of him,¡± Luke responded, rejecting her idea.


    The way she stared at him with wide eyes like he was some kind of monster after he said that gave him her opinion on the matter. Which confused him because he didn¡¯t get why she¡¯d be so against something that wasn¡¯t that big of a-


    Her eyes flicked to his crotch and then back to Luke. He could¡¯ve sworn there was something like pity in them.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of inhumane, but it¡¯s not against the Exodus Accords,¡± Bloom mumbled, biting her upper lip in contemplation.


    For a moment Luke was confused. Then he understood just how diabolic what he just said had sounded. Horror filled him completely at just the thought of such a vile act. He was evil but he wasn¡¯t a monster.


    ¡°I MEANT HIS KNEECAPS!¡±