Character Creation 1.4

Fight or flight doesn't even factor in when you realize you're actively pissing off someone who can apparently control enough flies to make you flash back to watching The Ten Commandments. I barely even notice the near word-for-word recreation of a 90s Raid commercial by [Fugly Bob] himself as I desperately try to think up a way to fix this. Preferably before she kills me and/or someone calms down enough to realize the swarm of might have something to do with the girl who isn't freaking out with everyone else.

Clearly, talking is just making things worse. Show, don't tell. I grab the nearest utensil, Taylor's fork, and ram it point first into my left hand. She jolts as if to stop me, but she's too late. Thankfully, the cheap plastic doesn't break on my skin.

[-8 HP]

Unfortunately, it still hurts like a bitch. I am distinctly aware of each tine, four irregular beams of agony speared through my hand. Thank God I didn't grab the serrated knife.

Taylor's face shifts to aghast as she lunges across the table and yanks the fork out my hand, flinging it across the room. "Why did you do that? Are you okay?"

The pain starts fading immediately. I hold up my hand so she can watch it regenerate, but there's no wound. "Huh. You saw that, right?"

She grabs my inexplicably uninjured hand roughly, and for a second I think she's going to inspect it right there, but instead she stands abruptly and drags me out of the restaurant. I barely avoid banging a hip against the table, or worse. Behind us, the flies disperse as their natural instincts kick back in.

Taylor pulls me past kitschy souvenir stands, along a derelict pier, and down a half-concealed stairway. On the shaded sand under the Boardwalk, surrounded by the various bits of litter that fall through the cracks overhead, Taylor stops and draws my hand to eye level. There's no sign that anything happened. "I thought you said your regeneration was slow. This," she shakes my hand around, "Is not slow."

[HP: 81/85]

I twist my hand in her grasp, taking a moment to look at the palm. Still no mark. "...I'm confused. My power is showing me at 81 out of 85 hit points. But there's no holes…"

"Hit points? Like in an RPG?" Her tone makes it less a question, more a demand for information.

"Yeah. I think my power is a little weird. It also told me I'd gained vitality while trying to bash my way out of your locker, gave me a quest with a two hour timer to get out of there, and leaves little signs floating over people's heads. Like I said earlier, it tells me name, level, and that you're an [Unaffiliated Parahuman]."

She gives me a dirty look and releases my wrist. "And what are you going to do with that knowledge? Are you trying to out me as a cape? Push me into using my powers in public?"

"No!" I'm borderline flailing my arms in denial. "Hell no. Not a chance. I was hoping to get your help figuring out my powers..." Honestly, I really hadn't thought that far before now. I've been running on auto-pilot since I realized I can see when someone has powers. I'm not sure if I'm trusting Taylor because she's a friend, because she's been bullied, or just because she's got cool hair. Long hair has always caught my eye. I hope it's not the last one. I really don't like to think I'm making life-changing choices based on hair. "...and maybe team up. And not just 'cause I'm not sure how good my powers are in a fight and need backup." I'm still thinking out loud. "Like I said earlier, I assume you got your powers in the locker. That means you've had the ability to control flies for -"

Taylor interrupts me with a smirk. "Insects. All insects." She gestures at the beach a few feet closer to the ocean as a dozen or so crabs boil out of the sand and approach us… in a crustacean congo line? "Oh, and arthropods. You know, lobsters and crabs and such."

A [Controlled Wasp] floats about six inches from my face, making me go cross-eyed for a moment. "That's even scarier." I have got to get my thoughts back ahead of my mouth. "And still proves my point. Emma, Sophia, and even Madison are still alive. I like to think I'm a good guy, but the urge to go all bug-Carrie on them would be REALLY hard to resist."

Wasps, flies, and a few spiders - are those black widows? - weave between the fingers on Taylor's right hand as she lifts it to eye level, an indecipherable look on her face. "I thought about it. I really did. Somedays it got so bad it took everything I had to keep the swarms drawn by my rage in the walls. To not drown them in the bugs they linked me to. And every time, exactly one thing held me back."

It hits me. I know. I was right to trust her. "You're better than them."

"I'm going to be a hero," she agrees.

There's only one thing to do: I offer her my allegiance. I almost offer my hand in an overly-dramatic gesture, but think better of it. "I'm not sure how much I can do with my power, especially compared to yours, but I'd lo- be honored to be your sid- to fight at your side." Smooth. I should probably let her do the talking when we deal with other capes.

"I've seen the statistics for independent heroes. They're pretty grim. And as a Master, I could use a Brute as backup." She smiles in a way I haven't seen since middle school. "Tell me everything you know about your power."

A/N: Considered not having a fork be at their table, because burger joint, but couldn't bring myself to try and write James telling Taylor to stay right there while he finds something to stab himself with.

While posting this arc on Spacebattles I ran a poll on whether James' powers should come from a shard or Gaia. The vast majority of readers preferred Gaia-based powers for The Gamer. This will have in-story consequences.

Many thanks to Harper Potts for her help, both with Beta-ing and help with plotting out story details ahead of time. She can be found on my favorite author's list.