Prologue
They promised us there wouldn't be an actual firefight. Just us, raw numbers and more guns than they had. Twenty of us, eight of them. They'd give in. They'd leave.
As the gun falls from my fingers, I lose my balance, landing on the meaty part of my left butt cheek. The Empire thug who shot me- or at least, I think he was the one- shoots again. He misses, but the second shot was probably unnecessary, as I bring my hand to my throat. The gunfire that practically explodes around me sounds hollow, far away.
I've felt worse pain from smaller injuries. Still, lurking behind the numb awareness that the heated dark pulse of slick, black liquid that's dyeing my ratty t-shirt black, Alfred E. Neumann's words "What, me worry?" being drowned in blood, the terror is receding. Fading to fear. To alarm. To something less, all worry leaving me.
I float, looking down at my body, laying in an expanding pool of shiny blackness in the orange tinted light of the street lamp over the back alley basketball court. One of my bloodied hands is pressed uselessly against my throat; there's a darkness spreading in the crotch of my jeans that has nothing to do with blood. How incredibly undignified, I think to myself. I can't feel my fingers or toes. My hands and feet quickly go numb, my legs, my arms. But there is no pain, now. No pain, no fear, no doubt, no sadness. Dignity has no meaning. The view of it fades from my eyes, white and black blotches invading my vision and cotton filling my ears.
What was I thinking about? I don't remember.
I try to take another breath but I can't tell if I succeeded. I have
Time
To wonder
There is no time. No sense of body; an attempt to move my arm gives no response. No memory. No regret or shame. Sight, smell, taste touch, sound- all gone. There's only... a little boredom. With what passes for thought right now, I dimly think of my lack of surroundings.
But... There isn't nothing, either.
There's something here.
For the first time in seconds, aeons, eternity, there is something else. Something that is not just my thoughts in lonely emptiness. It surrounds me.
I reach out, without hands, without change. I reach out..
And I grasp it.
Blue light enters me, and I open my eyes.
I can hear the fight- or maybe I should call it a battle- moving away, towards Empire territory. I suppose that means we're winning. Either that, or some of our boys are running the wrong way. Which, depressingly, is the more likely.
Skidmark didn't even bother to show, so it was just twenty of our boys against maybe a dozen Empire thugs. They told us there'd only be eight. Still, good odds until you think about what most of the Merchants are: strung out junkies. I'm part of the temps, just another bum they grabbed, gave a gun, and a promise of fifty bucks and a dime to look scary for fifteen minutes.
I'm with the Merchants not because I'm hooked on drugs, but because I'm homeless. I've done this work before, four times. Usually, it's not a thing. Merchant for an hour, food for a month.
And, glancing down, at my shirt and pants, I'm now laying in piss and blood, both my own. I've seen others like this, before, punks on the nod or hot boxing chronic, but this is the first time I've been there myself. Getting shot up and shooting up... I know there's some kind of joke to be made there.
It's at this point that I realize I don't feel any pain from being shot. Am I in shock? And I'd think I'd be freaking out right now, running for cover- except my mind is clear as a bell, and calm. Right now, both sides think I'm either dead, or on my way. Nobody's shooting at me while I just lay here. My fingers are still on my neck; beneath the sticky cold blood I feel unbroken skin.
No wonder I'm bleeding out. Dumbass. I need to cover the gun shot wound. Except as I search, there's no wound there to cover. Anywhere on my neck.
Is this a bad fucking dream? Did someone slip me a clickum instead of a roach this afternoon? But no. It doesn't have any of the reactive feel that my one experiment with acid had. Nothing was changing according to random thoughts I was having.
What the fuck is going on?
New quest! Dafuq?
Find out what's going on with the missing gunshot wound.
Time limit: 10 minutes.
Success: Enlightenment, 1250 Exp.
Failure: none.
And I take it back. There's a weird response to random thoughts right there. Now I'm seeing a see through blue text box. I wave at it; nothing happens. My hand passes through it like it's not there.
Okay, someone definitely slipped me acid. No question. Why the fuck is there a ticking timer?
New quest! Dafuq?
Find out what's going on with the missing gunshot wound- AND the blue text box.
Time limit: 9 minutes, 43 seconds.
Success: Enlightenment, 1250 Exp.
Failure: none.
This... seems familiar. Something about this reminds me of something.
Before I can think much further on it, the approaching sirens distract me. Oh, shit! The cops. How am I going to get out of here? I'm not going to get very far with a gunshot wound to the neck. Do I stick it out here, and let the ambulance guys check me out? First thing they have to do when you're arrested is make sure you're healthy, or take you to a doctor if you're not.
Sure, in jail I can't do much, but they still get weed and cigarettes on the inside, and it's three meals and a roof over my head. It's actually... kind of a nice idea. On the surface.
Me, though? No, fuck that noise. Scrawny guys like me end up taking it in the ass on a regular basis, I know from experience. Being a part time Merchant... no, no back up either. Better to make my escape here. Even dead is better than prison bitch. Once was more than enough for a lifetime.
I'm expecting pain as I roll over; I'm surprised when there isn't any. Not even as I can feel gravel pressing into my elbow, no pain.
-1 hp
Floating red number drifts up; that time of familiar memory tickles at my conscious.
The lack of pain tells me one thing: must have been PCP. Guys on PCP have been known to shatter every bone in their arms and hand punching something, get shot on the heat, and not even notice it.
Quest: Dafuq?
Find out what's going on with the missing gunshot wound- AND the blue text box.
Time limit: 8 minutes, 51 seconds.
Success: Enlightenment, 1250 Exp.
Failure: none.
That's weird. It doesn't say "New" any more. When did that change?
I get slowly to my feet and wave at the stupid blue text box, wishing it wasn't right there in the middle of my sight. I can't see in front of me well enough like this. It remains where it is stubbornly, like the mole in the middle of my back that just itches so goddamn much sometimes.
Usually, just thinking about my mole was enough to make it start itching. For some reason, though, this time it seems satisfied to not bother me. Maybe because it realizes I have more important shit to do. Like get out of here before the sirens arrive. Except I can't figure out how to get rid of this fucking blue text box blocking my view.
I can't really see where I'm going as I leave the lit area, which kind of sucks, because I suddenly slam into something hard and unyielding at a full stagger. One of the metal poles holding up the chain link fence surrounding the court.
-3 hp
And there's that red fucking number again. I manage to keep my balance.
Quest: Dafuq?
Find out what's going on with the missing gunshot wound- AND the blue text box.
Time limit: 8 minutes, 26 seconds.
Success: Enlightenment, 1250 Exp.
Failure: none.
It is at this moment that I notice the little line inside a tiny box on the upper right corner of the text box, the usual computer icon for minimize. I stare at it for a good twenty seconds. Well, according to the timer counting down, it's actually sixteen. Then I reach up- and my hand whacks against the wall I ran into a half minute ago.
I back away, then cautiously poke at the icon. The blue text box collapses into a small box that reads "Dafuq? 8:02."
More importantly, I can see. The sirens are stopped, and I can see the flicker of them from a nearby alley. A couple of police officers are slowly trickling in from the alley leading to the court. A few feet from me, I see the bloody black puddle that I'd been lying in two minutes ago.
The cops are doing that two handed thing they do, one hand holding a flashlight and steadying their pistol in the other. Circles of light pass over the walls of the project apartments at ground level.
I'm not a smart guy, but I know when it's time to go. I glance to the side, the break in the fence only a few feet away, and I run for it. Police flashlights move in my direction but I ignore their yells, running for the alley. Then I feel something hit me in the shoulder blade as I hear four or five rapid gunshots.
-35 hp
Through enduring excessive physical punishment, you have gained a new ability: Resist Damage!
The sense of deja vu is still strong as I see that, accompanied by nostalgia. Good feelings, like when I was a teen age kid, summer afternoons, playing- oh. Quests. Hp. Damage resistance. Just like in a role playing game.
Wait, what now?
There doesn't seem to be any further pursuit. Apparently the cops aren't eager to chase a runner into a dark alley after the obvious evidence of the huge gunfight that just happened. My mind goes back to the little collapsed blue box.
'Dafuq? 6:55'
I wonder if there's a control panel, or menu-
MENU
STATS
ABILITIES
SKILLS
INVENTORY
PERKS
QUESTS
PARTY
HELP
Click to expand...Oh, shit. I'm in some kind of video game? Is that why there's no gunshot wound? I'm on video game hp mechanics now?
Quest complete!
You figured out what dafuq is going on. Sort of.
Received 1250 Exp.
Level up! You gained five stat points.
New perk!
New quest!
Surplus time added to new quest.
The alert screen vanishes as I wave my hand, but I don't have time to rejoice: another big blue text box pops up. I stab my finger at the minimize icon; it collapses into a little box that reads, "Going to Ground: 16:52."
Looking around, I don't see anyone. Maybe... I should probably read that.
Spoiler
New quest: Going to Ground
The police are looking for you. The area is about to be covered with more fuzz than a Shih Tzu. Find a place to lay low
Time limit: 16 minutes, 48 seconds.
Success: Escape, 500 Exp.
Failure: Prison bitch. Again.
My eyes lock for a split second on the "Failure" result. These windows are telling me things. Is this some kind of cape helping me out in a mentally fucked up way? Or...
I shake my head. Time to think about that shit later; if there's even a chance it's correct, then I need to move. And all things considered if say there's almost a certainty that is correct.
I scan the area again, this time looking for a way to get out of here. I can't just go out onto a main street in a blood soaked shirt and, oh yeah, let's not forget piss soaked pants. Because I was starting to feel something like dignity for a moment.
Unlike in the movies, a fire escape is never handy when you need one. I briefly consider trying to force my way into a door or window, but decide against it. Don't want to kick random doors open; that'd make noise and draw any cops looking for me like flies on shit.
Due to an especially sensible decision, your wisdom has increased by 1!
I wave away the pop-up immediately.
Wait. What did that say about wisdom?
Eh, whatever. It was a small pop-up. Doubt it said anything important.
... Who the dick am I kidding? I gotta know. I think the word 'Menu,' hoping this works.
Spoiler
MENU
STATS
ABILITIES
SKILLS
INVENTORY
PERKS
QUESTS
PARTY
HELP
There it is. Now, let's try... 'Stats.'
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 2(10%)
HP: 11/55
MP: 20/20
STRENGTH:5 (-3): 2 [+]
AGILITY: 7 (-2.1): 4.9 [+]
VITALITY: (3+2)=5(-2.5): 2.5 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 6 (-3): 3 [+]
WISDOM: 3 (-1.5): 1.5 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 5
CONDITIONS: Malnourished (-30% STR, AGI, -20% INT, WIS, VIT), Depressed (-30% WIS, INT) Recently Revived (-30% STR, VIT)
The Bum.
It suddenly occurs to me. Did I actually get super powers?
Nah. That's fucking stupid. Except... I look at that timer.
'Going to Ground: 15:10'
Okay. Let's assume that I have powers. I mean, it's more likely this is a trip, and someone slipped me acid, except, if I have been shot- twice- and I'm still somewhat okay, or whatever, then to still be standing this long after being shot I almost have to have powers. As weird as they are.
... That "11/55" hp thing scares me, though.
And if I got powers, they're also telling me that cops are looking for the guy they shot at. Oh, fuck, I left my gun! It's got my prints all over it! Doesn't matter I didn't shoot it, it's got no serials. That's five years right there, minimum.
'Going to Ground: 14:52'
Fifteen minutes is plenty of time. Just be cool, be calm, relax... Think.
... And not about how I'm fifteen minutes from prison bitch.
Can I climb the wall?
I look up. I'm not sure I can manage it; the stat thing totally called it when it said I was hungry. I haven't eaten since yesterday, and the slightly rubbery feeling in my arms and legs is one discomfort that my super powers apparently didn't fix.
Hide in a dumpster?
No, probably not. Any broken glass... Well, that eleven hp I have left says it's a bad idea. I don't want to know what happens when it reaches zero.
... Take off the shirt?
That's a thought. Of course, it'd be better if I could replace it. Running around in February shirtless in New England is rather stupid. And obvious. Plus all the blood.
Wish I could think of something.
I wave the menu away, mindful of the quest box. 'Going to Ground: 13:30'
I could just stand here like a moron. Or I could start moving. South along Flight Street? That's straight into Empire territory. Plus, that's where the fighting went. West? Back to the basketball court and the cops. East takes me right out to the water-
Maybe that would be a good move? At least I could wash off the shirt and the blood. I glance down at my pants. And the piss too.
Fuck, today sucks. Sucked. Whatever. I begin walking towards the beach.
At this time of night, the streets are pretty quiet, especially this close to a major fight. I almost don't see the reflection of flashing lights coming from a cross street; I duck into a doorway to a tenement building, huddling down against the short brick wall. Within seconds the prowl car zips past the building, lights on but sirens quiet. I wait briefly, peeking up over the brick work to watch the car go.
As soon as the cop car turns the corner, I start to go, only to huddle back down as several more cop cars go past. And an armored van. Is that the PRT?
Yep. One of the Empire capes must have shown up. And by the look of things, the PRT is getting ready to sweep up everyone from the fighting.
I test the door handle. Like I expected, locked. Looking up, I scan the front of the building. Nothing I can reach, not that I wouldn't be seen the moment I started climbing. Assuming I could manage the climb in the first place.
Peeking over the brickwork again, making sure to stay hidden, I wait, hoping for the officers gathering there to not be looking in my direction so that I can get out of the stairwell I'm trapped in. Four cop cars and a PRT van so far.
Oh shit. Police sometimes gather in a nearby spot before they raid a place or respond in numbers to a major fight or crime. Is this the staging area? Talk about bad fucking luck. Getting myself trapped out here less than a block from the staging area.
... And I saw my stats; I don't know why this even surprised me. On the upside, is looking more and more like this is a left super power thing. If a really fucking weird one. On the downside... 'Going to Ground: 6:08'
I'm running out of time. How far do I need to get?
The quest window opens back up.
Spoiler
Quest: Going to Ground
The police are looking for you. The area is about to be covered with more fuzz than a Shih Tzu. Find a place to lay low
Time limit: 6 minutes, 08 seconds.
Distance: Indeterminate.
Success: Escape, 500 Exp.
Failure: Prison bitch. Again.
Indeterminate? The fuck does that mean?
Spoiler
Quest: Going to Ground
The police are looking for you. The area is about to be covered with more fuzz than a Shih Tzu. Find a place to lay low
Time limit: 6 minutes, 02 seconds.
Distance: Unknown.
Success: Escape, 500 Exp.
Failure: Prison bitch. Again.
Oh.
Wait, can I just... Ask what I need to do to get away?
Spoiler
Quest: Going to Ground
Achieve one or more of the following objectives:
Reach a safe haven before time runs out.
Reach a safe distance from the fighting before time runs out.
Get a complete change of clothes and a shower before time runs out.
How far until I reach a safe distance?
Spoiler
Quest: Going to Ground
Achieve one or more of the following objectives:
Reach a safe haven before time runs out.
Reach a safe distance from the fighting before time runs out. (300 yards minimum distance North)
Get a complete change of clothes and a shower before time runs out.
North! That means... Away from the cops. Duh. I poke at the minimize button again.
I peek over the bricks again, making sure to not be seen. They're not looking in this direction. Good. Then, a blue window pops up.
Through repeated attention to detail, you have gained the Observe ability!
I almost swipe it away, before I pause. Let's not be hasty. Observe ability. Okay. Remember that. Later. I reach out, and try to move the window- it moves. Oh, man. This is actually kind of awesome.
They're still not looking over here; I slip over the wall and stick close to the building.
Through repeated activities to conceal your presence, you have gained the Stealth skill!
I move that window up next to the Observe window, and keep moving. I think my heart jumps into my throat as the light of another pair of headlights pass by but I'm far enough into the nook of a couple bushes that I'm not seen. I glance at the collapsed window.
'Going to Ground: 4:22'
I wait two seconds and chuckle to myself. Then I keep going.
Only a block later, the window expands.
Quest complete! You got away from the cops. For now.
Received 500 Exp.
I don't stop to read more, though. I'm hungry, and I want to find a safe place, preferably somewhere I can hole up, clean up, and eat something.
There's an old apartment building a few blocks away that's pretty trashed. In another city, it'd probably be demolished, but in Brockton it just serves as a gathering spot for people that don't have anything left to lose. I'm pretty sure I can find a corner to curl up in, maybe a sink to wash off my shirt. And my pants.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 2(30%)
HP: 11/50
MP: 20/20
STRENGTH:5 (-2.5): 2.5 [+]
AGILITY: 7 (-2.1): 4.9 [+]
VITALITY: (3+2)=5(-2.5): 2.5 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 6 (-3): 3 [+]
WISDOM: 3 (-1.5): 1.5 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 5
CONDITIONS: Malnourished (-30% STR, AGI, -20% INT, WIS, VIT), Depressed (-30% WIS, INT) Recently Revived (-30% STR, VIT)
The Bum
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
1 Unused Perk Point
ABILITIES
Observe level 1 (0%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
SKILLS
Stealth level 1 (5.5%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Last edited: Feb 12, 2018
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Potato Nose
Mar 3, 2017
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Threadmarks Chapter One
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 3, 2017
#3
Chapter One
As run down buildings go, this one is well known, if you're down on your luck in the bay. It used to be named Opera Terrace. Nobody's called it that in years; the first three letters fell off the corroded placard decades ago and not long after some wit decided to chisel off the "er" in Terrace. It's been called "raT race" for as long as anyone can remember. The run down apartment building hasn't seen a super, plumber, electrician, or inspector in living memory.
If there was any property value to buying it, the place would be torn down but the fat cats like Christner and Anders want it standing, it and the other trashed, worn out buildings near it, as a place so the homeless and out of luck wouldn't sleep where out of towners could see them.
The doors are long gone. There's no outside lights; power still comes to the building so that means SOMEBODY is paying the electricity bill but probably not anyone who actually flops here. There's a few lamps here and there in one downstairs room or another, giving a little light, but not enough. Crumpled burger wrappers, broken bottles, wind blown garbage, nobody goes barefoot here. Something crunches under my left shoe sole that sounds like a needle.
Ahead of me, a skinny, sucked up looking guy is sprawled half-in an abandoned room. He's using a shitty jacket as a sort of blanket. I look up at the little box telling me about learning Observe.
Okay then. Menu, Abilities.
Spoiler
Observe level 1 (0%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
Just look at them? I close the menu and look at the skinny guy. He's just laying there. How do I Observe-
Oliver Surhoff
Junkie
Level 5
HP: 168/220
Affiliations: None.
Condition: Sleeping, Intoxicated (Alcohol)
... Oh. I have to actually think it. I... should have already figured that. But what the hell is affiliation?
Oliver Surhoff
Junkie
Level 5
HP: 168/220
Gang Connections: None.
Condition: Sleeping, Intoxicated (Alcohol)
Oh.
The correction is a bit embarrassing. I never was smart; I always knew that. But earlier tonight, it said that making good decisions made my wisdom go up. And both those Abilities say level 1. Meaning there's probably a way to increase them.
Menu. Abilities.
Spoiler
Observe level 1 (1%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
How do I increase them, though? If-
Wait. Didn't Observe say 0% earlier?
I look around, then notice the jacket. Observe.
Jacket
Clothing
Level 1
HP: 12/20
Protection: Resist Cold 10%, absorb slashing damage to torso 20%, absorb piercing damage to torso 1
Condition: Moderate Disrepair.
Due to accurately exercising logic and reason your intelligence went up by 1!
That ratty old jacket does all that?
And my intelligence went up. Huh. I look at the Abilities again.
Spoiler
Observe level 1 (2%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
So it went up a percent. I'm betting that if it reaches 100% it'll improve- meaning using my abilities improves them? That... I also should have guessed on my own. It almost seems too obvious.
Now, the big question. Do I sleep, or do I try to meet up with Caleb? He can probably hook me up with a cleanish shirt, and get me the fifty bucks and dime bag of weed that was supposed to be pay for the 'show of force' that turned to shit tonight.
I look down at my shirt. That mess right there says it all; if I sleep right now I won't be able to go out till dark tomorrow. Meaning no food either. It's already been way too long since I ate.
Caleb's rat trap of a place is only a mile from here, but I have to detour the long way around to get there to avoid the area the police and PRT have blocked off. By the time I get there I'm wishing I'd taken Oliver's jacket when I'd had the chance; I need it a hell of a lot more than he does.
The apartment buildings here are slightly better than what I'm used to; all the tenants pay rent, even if it's almost entirely cash.
Walking down the hallway to the stairs, I can hear a baby crying, several dogs barking from different directions, and the sounds of a couple arguing. I tune it out; it's not my problem and it's not what I'm here for. Along the way, though, I Observe everything I see.
Hall Lamp
Light Source
Level 1
HP: 3/3
Projects mild light when active (25 feet).
Observe became level 2!
That cheerful announcement puts a smile on my lips as I knock on Caleb's door. The lighting in the hallway is from several dingy lightbulbs but it's plenty to see what a mess I am. Thankfully, nobody here cares any more about other people's business than I do. Nobody looks out in the hall. I Observe the peephole while I wait.
Peephole
Tool
Level 2
HP: 5/5
Grants panoramic wide angle view of the hallway from the living space.
This small lens is designed to allow people to see not only white knocking, but also who might be waiting off to the side. An exercise in paranoia, but a justified one in some places.
That's new. I look at the lamp on the wall again, and Observe.
Hall Lamp
Light Source
Level 1
HP: 3/3
Projects mild light when active (25 feet).
A common, cheap indoor lamp fixture, made by Pfizer. Inexpensive to purchase and maintain.
That's pretty cool. Got more information that time. I wonder what else I'll learn as I level up observe more?
The door opens. "Get the fuck in here you stupid shit below someone sees you!"
Caleb doesn't wait for me to act, grabbing the unbloodied right shoulder of my t-shirt and dragging me inside the apartment.
"The fuck are you coming here looking like that?!" He demands as soon as the door is shut. "You tryina get me arrested? Bring the cops down on this place?"
"I need my money and a change of clothes," I say. "Fifty bucks and the dime."
"... Fuck, fine. Where's the gun?"
I wince. "Cops shot at me, and I dropped it."
He looks at me for couple seconds, his eyes moving to my blood stained shirt. For a moment, I think he's gonna stiff me but then the moment passes and he nods. "Yeah... Yeah. Well, fuck it, that's why the serials are filed off. Come on. Let's get you a clean shirt. And pants."
I'm not about to turn down the offer of the shower; as I take off the blood crusted shirt, I see the bullet hole with still damp blood surrounding it right by where my shoulder blade would be. I stare dumbly at it, before turning to look at my back in the mirror. There's the bullet hole, though the bleeding has stopped.
There's a painless bullet in me somewhere. Something about the idea strikes me as hilariously funny. I toss the shirt on the sink, following it with my pants.
I don't look into the mirror anymore; I don't want to see myself. I step into the chipped bathtub and turn on the water. Cold water splashes across my toes, and quickly little streamers of dirty water start trailing to the drain. It warms up quickly, and I pull up the little knob that sends the water flowing to the shower head. It's a jolt, the first spray chilly but then the hot water hits the top of my head. It feels better than any water has a right to.
I turn my back to the spray, and I can feel my muscles start to relax. That's really... REALLY nice. I grab the bar of soap- Ivory, funny, I'd have guessed Caleb would use Irish Spring- and begin rapidly scrubbing my legs and feet.
A sixteen year old run away doesn't appreciate something as simple as a shower. It took me a few days to really worry about it, weeks to come to a decision. By the time I tried to go back home, it was too late. Without me to beat on, my step dad turned to my mom. Mom was even skinnier and less durable than me. I never got hospitalized by him, but it was close a couple times. Mom didn't survive it.
I find myself staring at the bar of soap, dirt so thick on it that it looks muddy. I wipe away the dirty streaks and rinse it off, setting it on the soap indent and washing the brown suds off. I suspect myself down again, wanting to wash away not just the dirty but the feeling, the very sensation of the streets. I know it won't last. I know tomorrow I'll be buying a loaf of bread, a couple raw potatoes, I'll hole up somewhere near Acre Park, where I can get water from the bathrooms. The dirt will cover me, coat me, cake under my nails and in my hair. But for now...
For now, I want to pretend I'm a human being.
My eyes drift up to look at the notification windows that have been hanging open for the last hour. I close both of them.
... Menu.
MENU
STATS
ABILITIES
SKILLS
INVENTORY
PERKS
QUESTS
PARTY
HELP
Well... Nobody's here to watch me. Maybe I could experiment? Perks.
Spoiler
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
1 Unused Perk Point
What do I do with the Perk Point?
Spoiler
PERKS:
Select a new Perk. Once selected, this choice cannot be undone.
Choose one:
Regenerator
Tough as Nails
Fast Learner
The Acrobat
Scrounger
Hunch
1 Unused Perk Point
What do those do?
Spoiler
PERKS:
Regenerator:
You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Requirements: none
Tough as Nails:
You're ridiculously hard to injure. After any other damage reduction, reduce damage taken by your level. +2 to STR.
Opens Juggernaut Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Fast Learner:
You pick up new skills quickly. You gain +5% increased experience to skills and abilities; reduce requirements from skill books by 5%. +2 to INT.
Opens Scholar Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
The Artful Dodger:
You're nimble, light on your feet. You have 10% increased chance to dodge attacks while using acrobatic abilities or skills. +2 to AGI.
Opens Acrobat Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Scrounger:
You have a knack for finding what you need, at a good price. Increases chance to locate objects for sale by 10%, and reduces the cost of those items by 0-15%. +2 to CHA.
Opens Well Connected Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Hunch:
You have acquired a talent for making better decisions. While making a choice, you have a 10% chance of getting a good vibe off the better alternative. +2 to WIS.
Opens Guiding Light Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
1 Unused Perk Point
Those all look good. I'm not sure which I should pick. And what are Perk trees?
Spoiler
PERKS:
Perks not only improve your stats and give you bonuses to certain actions or abilities, they also open up new paths for you to develop a focus. Selecting a peek allows you to choose from new Perks at your next Perk selection. As you go deeper into a Perk tree, the new perks you may choose from will offer increasingly better bonuses to actions related to that Perk tree. This, you may choose to branch out to a wide selection of bonuses, but in doing so you may never unlock the highest abilities and benefits that focusing on a single tree will give you.
You gain a Perk Point at every even level.
1 Unused Perk Point
There's a knock on the bathroom door; I almost jump. "Uh- yeah?"
"You hungry, man? I got stuff for sandwiches."
FOOD. My stomach rumbles at the thought of it. "Yeah, I could go for that."
"Alright. When you're ready, man."
Suddenly, I'm eager to get out of the shower. Despite how much I was enjoying it. I rinse myself down fast; most of the suds have already washed away while I was looking at my menu. I twist both handles, turning the water off, and push down the knob that redirects the water to the shower head. The water backed up to it gurgles cheerfully out of the faucet, and I step out onto the bath mat, toweling off with the clean towel Caleb gave me.
As shitty as my night had been, Caleb is actually being really cool to me. I generally don't trust this sort of thing but right now my night has shifted to something less than shit and I'm not looking gift horses in the mouth.
My shirt is still laying where I left it; the mostly dried blood a reddish brown. Seeing that makes me... Not scared, but cautious. I look back at the Perks. With that in mind, I poke the word Regenerator.
Spoiler
PERKS:
You have selected Regenerator. Once you confirm this selection, it cannot be undone. Continue? Y/N.
"Yes," I mumbled.
Spoiler
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Stats.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 2(10%)
HP: 21/60
MP: 22/22
STRENGTH:5 (-3): 2 [+]
AGILITY: 7 (-2.1): 4.9 [+]
VITALITY: (3+2+2)=7(-3.5): 3.5 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 (-3): 3.5 [+]
WISDOM: 3 (-1.5): 1.5 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 5
CONDITIONS: Malnourished (-30% STR, AGI, -20% INT, WIS, VIT), Depressed (-30% WIS, INT) Recently Revived (-30% STR, VIT)
The Bum
Regenerator
I watch for a few seconds; my HP increases to 22 after about eight seconds, then 23 about eight seconds later.
An idea is forming, but I'll deal with it later. First, dry off. Then, food.
My eyes drift back to the stats. There's a lot of penalties there. Malnourished, depressed, recently... Revived?
Can I get more details on Recently Revived?
CONDITIONS:
Recently Revived: You have been killed and revived recently; your Recovery ability is currently inaccessible. Additionally, you have a 30% penalty to STR and VIT.
What's Recovery?
ABILITIES:
Recovery: You may recover from death, returning to life at full hp. In doing so, on revival you receive the Recently Revived condition until you next sleep in a bed.
I can come back to life?!
Wait. I don't HAVE a bed to sleep in.
Shit.
There's a knock on the bathroom door again. "Yeah?"
Caleb's voice comes from the other side of the door. "Here. Toss your clothes out here, I got some clean shit for you. No guarantees it'll fit good but I got you a belt."
I wrap the towel around my waist, opening the door. "Thanks." He hands me some crumpled up clothes and starts to turn around, but I say, "Listen, this is cool of you and all, but why the..."
"Dude, don't read into it. The clothes are from Goodwill anyways so it sets me back like six bucks. And, seriously, you need to eat something. So just fucking take it, grab some sleep on my couch, and don't be here when I wake up in the morning." He turns and walls down the hall. "Couch pulls out. Money's in the pocket of the jeans."
The door shuts behind him, leaving me standing there in a towel holding a wad of clothing.
Fuck it. I pull on the cargo pants and sweat shirt. As promised, the pants won't stay up; still, the material's thick and intact. Patting the right front pocket, I find a pair of twenties and a ten, wrapped around a baggy full of sticky, green weed, held in a bundle by a rubber band. Paid as promised. In Brockton Bay, say what you like about the Merchants, but they at least offer work even I can do. Although after tonight I'm reconsidering taking them up on it again. Getting shot at... Except that's not as big a deal as it once was, is it?
My stomach twinges, reminding me. Food. I cinch the belt tighter, and walk down the hallway barefoot, the carpet hard packed beneath my bare feet, the way a carpet gets after it's been too long since it was last vacuumed. The whole place looks a bit dirty, and the door jambs have black smudges at shoulder height, probably where Caleb usually puts his hands.
An old comic strip from a newspaper has been cut out and taped to a hall closet door, something about a guy trying to hold up a cop hangout without knowing it. The date reads August of '98.
Observe.
Comic Strip
Decoration
Level 1
HP: 0/1
An old comic strip taken from a newspaper. The paper is too old to safely take the strip down.
Written by Rob Armstrong, the comic strip Jump Start featured the humorous exploits and experiences of a fictional police officer.
I shake my head. Strange thing for a Merchant to have hanging on his wall, a comic strip about cops. I keep walking, looking around for the kitchen, before I catch sight of the living room and the couch I'm probably going to be sleeping on. On the other side of it is a fairly standard apartment kitchen, with room enough for a fridge, a stove, a sink, and just enough shelves to fool you into thinking you can actually cook in there. There's no kitchen light; I guess he either uses the living room lights or doesn't use the kitchen at night.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm eating my third tuna sandwich while looking over my new Food Crafting skill.
This could be awesome.
As I finish the last bite of my sandwich, a new message pops up.
You are no longer suffering from Malnourished.
That's good to know. I spoon out the last scrapings of the tuna in the mixing bowl, eating it as is. Not enough left for a sandwich. True, I'm not really hungry now- but a long learned lesson sticks with me: eat until you're full, especially when someone offers to feed you. You never know when your next meal will be.
I put the mixing bowl info the sink, running water into it and pouring a few drops of the dish soap into it. The bottle is only a third full and has a crust of dried soap half way down the pull top. I take the dish sponge and wipe up some of the blue crusting too, then go about washing the spoon and the mixing bowl.
The dishes taken care of, I put the mayo in his fridge, toss the tuna cans in the trash, and close up the bread bag, all three slices of bread that's left in it. It's still enough for toast and a sandwich, so it's worth saving.
The couch pulls out into a hideaway bed as promised. It has no sheets, but the living room is warmer than any place I've slept since September, and I haven't slept in a bed in at least two years. I rest my head on a couch cushion, and I'm asleep before I know it.
You are no longer suffering from Recently Revived.
You are no longer suffering from Depression.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 2(30%)
HP: 95/95
MP: 40/40
STRENGTH:5 [+]
AGILITY: 7 [+]
VITALITY: 7 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 5
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT. Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (20%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
SKILLS
Stealth level 1 (5.5%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 21, 2017
662
Potato Nose
Mar 3, 2017
View content
Threadmarks Chapter Two
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 4, 2017
#27
Chapter Two
I'm jolted awake by the "Open the fuck up" kind of fist pounding on a door that's characterized by police with a warrant.
What time is it? It can't be that late, it's still dark out, if the lack of light in the room is any indicator. I'm already curled up facing the direction of the hallway, where I see Caleb checking the peephole. He looks over his shoulder in my direction, then opens the door.
The muffled conversation that follows is short and to the point, a fairly standard transaction. Caleb takes the money, hands over something, and shuts the door. Seems kinda strange that he'd sell out of his own apartment, unless they were people he already knows.
He walks from the door to the kitchen, bumping into the folded out bed a little. He curses under his breath, and freezes, watching me. It's kind of neat, that he's trying not to wake me. More considerate than you'd think a dealer and muscle organiser would be.
Observe.
Caleb Washington
Drug Dealer
Level 8
HP: 311/315
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Well Connected
Formerly a low ranking member of the Teeth, Caleb jumped ship shortly before Marquis drive them out of Brockton Bay. He now deals drugs and serves as a face for Merchant recruiting, both temporary and permanent.
Caleb used to be part of the Teeth? I never knew. And honestly, it's not a thing I wanted to know. The Merchants might be trash- everyone knows it, even they do- but even they have standards. Except Caleb's been surprisingly decent, for a dealer.
I feel like there's a lot more going on here than what I know.
After watching me for a few seconds, Caleb continues on his way to the kitchen, and the text box disappears as he leaves my field of vision. I hear the fridge door open; a few seconds pass as I hear the barely audible sounds of swallowing, then a small gasp for air, before a couple more swallows. I don't remember seeing much in the fridge when I put the mayo away but then again, I wasn't really looking.
Caleb doesn't look back at me as he passes by the couch.
I close my eyes again, to discover I'm not sleepy. I feel great, actually. Temporary or not, the feeling of sleeping in an honest to god bed is exhilarating. The clothes are clean, I'm clean, I'm full, and I'm rested. It's almost enough to make me forget that I've got a while new series of problems tomorrow once they run the prints on that gun. Unless...
New quest! Habeas Corpus
A cornerstone of criminal law, Habeas Corpus requires that there be evidence of a crime before someone can be prosecuted. The police have you dead to rights, but only so long as they have the evidence. Locate and remove the evidence from last night's battle.
Success: 2,500 exp, improved reputation: Merchants.
Failure: Outstanding warrant and possible arrest.
I have my doubts. Something tells me this might not be a good idea. Still, my new powers have done alright by me so far, so...
The light goes out in the hall, leaving me in the dark.
Darkness is a funny thing. Suddenly, everything you hear becomes... Clearer. Sharper. More important. The less you see, the more everything else... IS. I don't really have better words for it.
It's still dark out. Caleb said to be gone before he got up; I'm not sure how much of that was fronting and how much he meant. Even so, I'm pretty sure he's going to be asleep a while, so I have plenty of time to sleep yet. Trouble is, I'm not sleepy anymore.
It's quiet. Safe. Maybe I should explore my abilities a little more? Menu. Help.
Spoiler
HELP
GENERAL
STATS
ABILITIES AND SKILLS
INTERFACE
TRAINING
General.
Spoiler
HELP
The interface is designed to respond to the needs of the operator. Requesting clarification may be done by thought. For more detailed explanations of a term, a goal, or a word, just ask.
That's... I already figured that much out on my own. Okay, then. Stats.
Spoiler
HELP
EXP (experience)
HP (hit points)
MP (mana points)
STR (strength)
AGI (agility)
VIT (vitality)
INT (intelligence)
WIS (wisdom)
CHA (charisma)
LUK (luck)
Okay. Makes sense so far. Except... Mana points?
Spoiler
HELP
Mana points are a measure of how much power you have available to make use of certain special abilities. Mana points recover naturally at a rate equal to your WIS per hour. You have mana points equal to 5 plus 5 more per point of INT.
Mana points. That sounds an awful lot like a magic system. Don't get distracted, yet. There's other things I need to look up before I get tied down in that. Training.
Spoiler
HELP
All abilities, skills, and starts can be improved through training, gathering experience using them, ultimately increasing their effectiveness. Making frequent use of the Stealth skill will improve your ability to remain unseen and unnoticed. Likewise, working out with weights or otherwise exercising your ability to exert a lot of force will improve your strength.
There are many ways to train; varying actions will not only improve current abilities but may also unlock new abilities (see ABILITIES AND SKILLS) as well. Because of this, often the most effective training comes from a variety of ways of exercising your desired ability or stats.
Multiple ways of training...
I close the window. Menu. Abilities.
Spoiler
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (23%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (5%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
I've been doing this already with Observe. And the difference between level one and level two was a nice jump.
I get up. My foot steps seem loud; I mentally focus on stealthy movement as I walk to the kitchen, quietly searching through the kitchen. A knife is easy to find. Under the sink I find drain opener AND a pipe wrench. There's the stove.
See, there's something folks don't realize about homeless people. We're used to discomfort, to pain. It's no longer something to be feared. It's accepted. We know them, we aren't really scared of them. I once watched a bum pull out one of his own bad teeth, then watched him shudder as he followed it up with a mouthful of whiskey. We don't have the luxury of going to a dentist. He knew it was gonna make him sick, so he pulled it out then washed the hole in his mouth with alcohol.
As of yesterday, the old guy was still around. I haven't been on the street as long as him, but I learned the lesson a while ago already. And I don't really feel pain the same way anymore, do I?
Okay then. Over the sink, I brace myself, knife in one hand. I hold my arm in the basin, take the knife, and stab it into my wrist.
-12 hp
I wait. It takes a little less than a minute for the damage to heal up.
Then I do it again.
And again.
My fifth time doing this, less than five minutes, and another pop-up happens.
Through repeated enduring of piercing damage, you have gained the ability Resist Piercing Damage!
Abilities.
Spoiler
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (23%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 1 (66%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most. All damage taken is reduced by 3%.
Resist Piercing Damage level 1 (3%) Passive
Piercing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by piercing attacks by 2.
I take the knife, and stab my wrist again. It feels a little harder, this time.
-10 hp(resist 2)
I smile to myself.
I take the knife, and instead of stabbing myself, I cut the back of my forearm almost from wrist to elbow.
-22 hp
This takes a little over a minute and a half to regenerate, by my count. But that's okay. According to the stove clock, it's only three fifty.
I have lots of time.
Your Resist Damage gained a level!
Through repeated enduring of slashing damage, you have gained the ability Resist Slashing Damage!
Through repeated enduring of crushing damage, you have gained the ability Resist Crushing Damage!
Your Resist Damage gained a level!
Through repeated enduring of heat damage, you have gained the ability Resist Heat Damage!
Through repeated enduring of corrosive damage, you have gained the ability Resist Corrosive Damage!
Your Resist Damage gained a level!
Your Resist Piercing Damage gained a level!
By 5:30, I'm more than a little bored. Still, looking over my abilities, I'm happier than ever that I selected Regenerator.
Spoiler
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (23%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 4 (86%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 7.5%.
Resist Corrosive Damage level 1 (34%) Passive
Corrosive damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by corrosive attacks by 2.
Resist Crushing Damage level 1 (9%) Passive
Crushing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by crushing attacks by 2.
Resist Heat Damage level 1 (15%) Passive
Heat damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by heat attacks by 2.
Resist Piercing Damage level 2 (8%) Passive
Piercing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by piercing attacks by 4.
Resist Slashing Damage level 1 (20%) Passive
Slashing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by slashing attacks by 2.
I don't know what time Caleb gets up, but looking at this sink, I'm betting he won't be happy it looks like this. I run the water, letting it rinse the evidence away, watching the red swirl down the drain for the fourth or fifth time tonight.
I hear a throat clearing to my left- Caleb is standing there. I look at the sink, back at him. "Ahhh..."
"Yeah, I figured it out last night already," Caleb answers, walking over to the fridge. He opens it, reaches in, and pulls a couple beers out from the back. "Want one?"
I nod, and accept the offered can. The click-hiss is the tab is familiar as I thumb the tab up and take a swig in one motion. Hops, malt, and undertones of ... Chocolate?... Hit my tongue and nose. I snack my lips, taking a smaller so and rolling it around on my tongue a moment. Yeah. Actually a little chocolatey. "That's good. That's really good."
"Chocolate Porter. Get em from a microbrewery in Maine." He takes a slow swallow of his, then sits down on the edge of the folded out couch. "So, I been thinking."
Something about that statement makes me wary. "Thinking?"
In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best way to put it. He doesn't notice or else doesn't care, though. "You've done work for us before. The Merchants, I mean. Four times."
I nod, a little surprised he remembered. "Yeah."
He takes another mouthful of his beer, swallowing it slowly. "Tonight, you got shot. Twice. From the blood on the shirt, first time was in the front. Before you... Got your powers."
I nod again, slowly. There's not a whole lot of point to trying to deny it, given he sort of caught me in the process.
"Second time, barely any blood compared to the first time. Smaller bullet hole than the ones the Empire guys were shooting."
Were they? I have no idea. I don't know much about guns. I nod at him to go on.
"... So after you got shot twice, you come here to get your pay. That's not the actions of a coward. You don't hide. You come to get what's yours. And you knew we don't welch. You do for us, you get what we said you'd get." Caleb knocks back the rest of his beer, just to drink it instead of tasting it like the earlier swallows. "See... You were worth recruiting before. You're worth a lot more, now, because you been loyal. You know? And even more than that because you're a cape, now."
"The loyalty thing isn't why you want to recruit me, though," I say.
"Don't get me wrong. A cape, that's valuable. Real valuable even if it's not a huge power or anything. You grow back, right? Like, you heal. Regenerate."
"Yeah." I don't really want to elaborate. I feel the suspicion from last night returning.
"I'd like to recruit you on a permanent basis." Well, there it is. "It's a fast track to the upper ranks of the Merchants, being a cape. It has bennies. Free drugs, you can crash pretty much anywhere the Merchants have a bed, and there's money in it. Lots more than anyone outside the Merchants knows."
It clicks. "Wait a second. That's why you have a fold out couch, isn't it? This isn't just your apartment. It's a safe house."
He nods. "Yeah. Any of the capes or lieutenants gets free pass to crash and eat here. All part of Skid's plan." He shrugs. "Course, nobody except Skids knows all of them. Higher you rank, more you know."
It makes a good bit of sense. I look at the can of beer in my hand, half full, and take another drink. I'm a cape, now, after all. He's right. That does make me worth something.
A smart man would find a way to turn that to his advantage. To make a living that way. But how? Manual labor is out. Even if I can possibly get strong enough, the jobs just aren't there. Not to mention, the whole thing about having a criminal record. Especially a couple days from now.
With that in mind, being a hero cape is out of the question too. I'm not gift wrapping myself for the cops.
I need people to work with. And I already know these guys.
"Okay... What do I do?"
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 2(30%)
HP: 95/95
MP: 40/40
STRENGTH:5 [+]
AGILITY: 7 [+]
VITALITY: 7 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 5
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT. Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (23%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 4 (86%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 7.5%.
Resist Corrosive Damage level 1 (34%) Passive
Corrosive damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by corrosive attacks by 2.
Resist Crushing Damage level 1 (9%) Passive
Crushing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by crushing attacks by 2.
Resist Heat Damage level 1 (15%) Passive
Heat damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by heat attacks by 2.
Resist Piercing Damage level 2 (8%) Passive
Piercing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by piercing attacks by 4.
Resist Slashing Damage level 1 (20%) Passive
Slashing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by slashing attacks by 2.
SKILLS
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 8, 2017
614
Potato Nose
Mar 4, 2017
View content
Threadmarks Chapter Three
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 6, 2017
#55
Chapter Three
You are mildly intoxicated (alcohol).
By the third beer, I'm feeling pretty good about things. Okay, sure. I'm about to go full time Merchant. On the other hand, is that really so bad? To hear Caleb talk about it, it's free weed, free booze, free bed- to a point- in exchange for a position of responsibility in the group. Sure, it's a job, there's shit I have to do, but the idea of having a job, of actually making money regularly, it's got me stoked.
Three bangs on the door; both of us look from the folded up couch. "That'd be the boss," Caleb says, getting to his feet. "Wait here."
I take another swallow of the beer, this one a coffee stout. This one, though, Caleb made himself. It's a good beer; I like it a lot better than the chocolate whatever it was, and I'd already liked that one. I swirl the beer around my mouth, then swallow, while I watch him walk to the door. He looks through the peephole, then opens the door.
I've seen Skidmark before. He's skinny, the mask revealing the clearest case of meth mouth I've ever seen. He wipes his lips with the back of a trembling hand as he looks past Caleb directly at me. "That the motherfucker you were telling me 'bout?"
Caleb nods. "Yes sir."
"Fan fucking tastic." Skidmark looks to either side down the apartment hall, like he's making sure nobody's looking, before stepping in the door. Caleb closes it behind him.
The leader of the Merchants. He strolls from the entryway into the living room, looking like he owns the place. "So. You want to be a member of the Archer's Bridge Merchants. I'm pretty particular about who I let into the Merchants, see?"
I nod silently.
"Not much of a talker, huh? That's fine, that's fine." He paces a little. "Mouthy motherfuckers get powers, talk a lot. Nice to see you don't get full of yourself. Nice to see." He wipes at his mouth again- from this close I can see a thin trickle of sweat trailing down his neck, despite the fact that it's still early in the year. He shifts his shoulder as it reaches his collar.
Caleb moves past the couch and opens up the fridge, grabbing a couple more beers. He tosses one to me, and I almost don't see it in time. Skidmark is surprisingly riveting to see in person.
I glance down, finishing the last drops of my third beer before cracking open the fourth. Looking up at Skidmark again, I Observe as I take a sip.
Skidmark (Adam Mustain)
Gang Leader
Level 30
HP: 440/545
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Intoxicated (meth), Addiction (meth), Mild Dental Abscess, Cape
I choke on my beer. I can learn a cape's real name just by looking at them?
After a second, though, it occurs to me that there's less info here than usual. I look over at Caleb. Observe.
Caleb Washington
Drug Dealer
Level 8
HP: 291/295
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Well Connected, Tired
Formerly a low ranking member of the Teeth, Caleb jumped ship shortly before Marquis drive them out of Brockton Bay. He now deals drugs and serves as a face for Merchant recruiting, both temporary and permanent.
Yeah, there's the extra stuff I remember. Except his hp is different. And he's tired.
"The fuck is he doing?" Skidmark asks.
"Sorry," I blurt out. "You read differently than he does."
"Read?" Caleb parrots, handing a beer to Skidmark. "What's that mean?"
Skidmark narrows his eyes at me, and says, "Yeah. I'd like to know myself."
Shit. "Uh, when I look at someone or something, I learn things about them."
Skidmark sits up straight, ignoring Caleb's protest of ignorance, and his head tilts to the side. "Izzat a fucking fact? So, what's it say about me?"
In for a penny, I guess. "That you're a gang leader, you've got a dental abscess, you're currently doing meth, and you're... A lot more experienced than me or Caleb." I do, however, neglect to mention it tells me his name.
"Tells you all that?" He asks, rubbing his jaw with a nod. "So what's it say about Caleb?"
"It tells me he's a drug dealer, he's tired, got connections, he's part of the Merchants, and handles recruiting." I also don't mention the Teeth. Caleb might have been motivated by the wish to recruit me, but somehow it still strikes me as the dickest of moves.
Skidmark smiles. It's a hideous sight. "All stuff you should already fucking know, but let's drag a couple random quim lickers out here and see what it has to say about them. But first," he says with a flourish, before pulling out the shittiest of basic masks, and tossing it frisbee style to me, "free of charge, your brand new cape self. Welcome to the high life. Now show me your regeneration."
Around me, there's a dozen men yelling, taunting. The sound leaves my ears ringing. Across from me, a white guy with scraggly hair stands about the inches taller than me, a bit more than arm's reach away. He's got a sleepy look to him, with flushed red cheeks. Welts from his fingernails decorate his bare forearms. Sleepy looking out not, though, his hands move with certainty and quickness, and he's balanced, on his toes.
Observe.
Marco Gruber
Enforcer
Level 14
HP: 336/355
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Fast Hands, Addiction (cocaine, heroin), Intoxication (lortab), Gonorrhea
Marco Gruber is a runaway from a family with ties to Gesellschaft. His refusal to embrace the Aryan ideal and his rebelliousness have led him to join the Merchants as a way to stick it to his overbearing parents.
"Alright, Bitches!" Skidmark calls out with a smile that could traumatize horror movie clowns. "We got ourselves a new motherfucking cape! Let me introduce you all to Spurt!"
A few whoops go up, but Skidmark puts on a tone of dramatic sadness. "But he's a scrawny little cunt with no training. He needs to know how to fight. Which is why you're all here. You're all going to educate him."
Skidmark named me Spurt. Because of all the blood on my shirt, which he insisted on me bleeding all over to demonstrate my regeneration. The bloody shirt is part of my official costume; it will wait, however, until after Skidmark and a few of the normals teach me how to fight. Regeneration is all well and good, but it's not much use nor very impressive if all I do is get my ass kicked repeatedly. So to prevent that from happening in public, it's going to happen in private.
"Everybody's gonna take turns," Skidmark continues. "Don't worry too much about hurting him; he regenerates. He goes down, we take a break til he heals up again. He learns a good trick off one of you that he takes someone else down with, you get a ten percent discount of your next purchase from your local pharmacist." A chorus of anticipatory chuckles rises up from the group. "It stays one on one til Spurt gets a good idea of what he's doing. We're gonna be meeting up daily for a couple weeks. Don't worry, you greedy cunts, there's plenty of time for everyone to earn a few discounts."
"Alright Spurt! You ready to go to fucking school?" Skidmark calls out. "Marco, begin class for us."
Spoiler
New Quest: First Impressions
This is your internal debut with with the Merchants. They know you're shit now; you need to show them that you're capable of much more.
Time limit: 8 hours.
Success: Increased reputation with the Merchants, 1000 Exp.
Failure: Reduced reputation with the Merchants.
I don't really have time to process this new quest before a bony set of knuckles expands in my vision, and then I'm flat on my back.
The first half hour is humiliating.
Through shoddy instruction and dogged refusal to give up, the Basic Unarmed Combat skill is created!
I gain four levels in Resist Crushing Damage, two more in general Damage Resistance, and five levels in Basic Unarmed Combat over the course of the next four and a half hours, along with two points of STR, one AGI, and five VIT. By that point, though, I'd managed to wear down all twelve of the crew Skidmark had assembled, to the point that they were too tired and too bruised to fight. Nobody was upset, though, given I'd made a point of using something from everyone to get a knock down today. They all earned their coupons.
Caleb got sent home. Right now, it's just me and Skidmark eating lunch sitting on the hood of a rusted out Ford behind the abandoned warehouse we were training in. "You learn fast," Skidmark comments to me over Subway sandwiches and beer. "Also, don't think I'm blind. Your powers get stronger."
I pause, mid chew, looking at him, before I nod. "Yeah," I agree around my mouthful. "They do."
"Is it permanent?"
I nod again, washing down the bite with a hefty swallow of Sam Adams. "I haven't lost anything I've gotten from it so far."
Skidmark grunts. "Fucking nice." Skidmark picks out something stuck between his teeth with a fingernail, flicking it off to the side casually. "But I want to know something. Those guys you were fighting today. They all loyal to me? To the Merchants?"
I think hard. Do I really want to do this? If so, one of those guys is probably going to end up floating in the Bay. On the other hand... Loyalty is important here, right? I'm actually IN. I'm part of this group, now. Arguably, an important part of it. Plus, if this fucks up, it's now my cock on the chopping block, too.
"... No," I say after a moment. "Jeremiah King? The guy with the dreads and the nose scar?" Skidmark nods. "He's a rat. Information selling."
Skidmark jumps up off the car hood, slamming his sandwich down. Shredded lettuce and tomato begins hanging dangerously from the side of the abused sandwich. "Donkey fucking scrunt monger, I knew it!" he yells explosively. "Son of a goat taint. Fuck." He pulls out a cell phone, smearing a dab of mayonnaise on the screen as he dials. He pauses just long enough to wipe the screen on his shirt before he redials and puts the phone to his ear. "... Motherfucker you know who this is. Shit up and listen. Jeremiah King, promoted to tier three last month. He's a police mole. Surgery. I want it done fucking yesterday."
Skidmark hangs up without waiting for a response. He glares in my direction. "I fucking knew it. I had a feeling he was a little too lucky with the cops last month." Well, as I remember, his luck HAD been pretty high. "Should have guessed he was passing information. Fuck."
I just got a man killed.
No... Let's be real. He got himself killed. He chose to be a rat. Right? And he could have gotten a lot of us fucked over in the process. Guys who were supposed to be his people. A guy might be able to get away with that shit if he's a citizen, but at our level of things, a person doesn't have legal status.
And I know I'm justifying. I told Skidmark about Jeremiah when I wouldn't tell him about Caleb. But the truth is, I don't know Jeremiah. He's never done anything for me. And while Caleb isn't likely to do anything to ruin my new chance at life because of him being former Teeth, Jeremiah telling the cops about me very well could.
I still feel a little scummy for it. I look down at my sandwich, and make myself take a bite. He's a rat. He's just a rat. Snitches get left in ditches. What he knew was going to get me wrecked.
I'll get over it.
Quest complete!
You've demonstrated to the first wave of the Merchants that you've got something special, and demonstrated to Skidmark that you're useful to him.
Received 1000 Exp.
Level up! You gained five stat points.
Yeah. I'll get over it.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 3(1%)
HP: 180/180
MP: 45/45
STRENGTH:7 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 12 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 10
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT. Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (77.2%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 6 (16%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 10.5%.
Resist Corrosive Damage level 1 (34%) Passive
Corrosive damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by corrosive attacks by 2.
Resist Crushing Damage level 5 (12%) Passive
Crushing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by crushing attacks by 10.
Resist Heat Damage level 1 (15%) Passive
Heat damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by heat attacks by 2.
Resist Piercing Damage level 2 (8%) Passive
Piercing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by piercing attacks by 4.
Resist Slashing Damage level 1 (20%) Passive
Slashing damage affects you less than normal. After other forms of damage resistance, reduce all damage by slashing attacks by 2.
SKILLS
Basic Unarmed Combat level 6 (51%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +18% attack speed, +30% unarmed attack damage.
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 8, 2017
637
Potato Nose
Mar 6, 2017
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Threadmarks Chapter Four
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 8, 2017
#85
Chapter Four
For the next day or so, I'm crashing at Caleb's place. Mostly I'm going to be staying out of sight during the day, doing my thing at night. It's boring as hell.
After seeing the vast difference in my crushing resistance compared to slashing and piercing, I spend a good amount of the afternoon stabbing and cutting myself in the bathtub. It's messy, and the kitchen knife is starting to get really dull by the time Caleb gets back. On the upside, though, I've got my slashing resistance up to five, piercing at eight- because I'm pretty sure gunshots count as piercing, right?- and overall resistance at nine.
Also, it turns out where I stab myself makes a difference for how much damage I take. Stabbing myself in the hand or arm doesn't do a thing anymore, not even break the skin. Stabbing myself in the chest, however, still does damage, although it's getting harder to break the skin.
Sitting on the couch, I look over my list of abilities, admiring my progress. The listing for damage resistances is getting really bulky. They all kind of do the same thing, sort of. There should be a way to, I dunno, put them into a single ability.
Your various damage resistance abilities have been collapsed into subcategories of Mitigation!
Uh... Abilities, Mitigation.
Spoiler
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 5 (12%)
-10 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 8 (3%)
-16 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Well, that works.
I remember the gunshot to my back. That was what, 35 damage? Something like that? "Caleb, what kind of guns do cops use?"
Caleb looks at me from where he's packing the large, blue glass hookah. "Nines, I think."
I grunt, thinking hard. Thirty five minus sixteen is... Fuck... Eighteen? No, seventeen. I think. I almost ask Caleb, but... That might mean giving more information about my powers than I'm really comfortable with.
Sixteen off that gunshot would have been almost half. That's pretty good, but not good enough, even with my regeneration. A few shots with a hand gun could still take me down. I have, what was it... 55 hp or so?
Stats.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 3(1%)
HP: 180/180
MP: 40/40
STRENGTH:7 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 12 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 10
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
Whoa! That's a lot more than before, I'm sure of it. Okay, so maybe I could take a whole mag. From one gun. Still, recovering... Vitality... Twelve hp every thirty seconds from regeneration, that's... Uh...
Fucking math. "Hey, Caleb."
He grunts this time.
"Can you get me some math books?"
"Math books?" he repeats, looking at me like I've grown an extra head. "The fuck you want something like that for?
Think fast, think of something... "Well, money, right? And stuff." That sounded convincing. "Mostly money, really."
He looks at me a moment longer, then grunts again. "Can probably see what someone can lift off Winslow; we got a bunch of customers and kid brothers go there," he says after a second.
I nod. "Cool. Thanks."
Caleb punches the foil with a tooth pick, sets the coal on the foil, and take the charcoal dust and pours it carefully into the coal's indent, before lighting it with a fireplace lighter. The dust flares, and the coal begins to glow in the middle, creeping out to the edges slowly. "So, anyhow, Peter," he says conversationally, "you got family?"
"Psh. Just me. Real dad split a long time ago, step dad killed my mom. Only child."
"Bummer, man." It's an attempt at sounding sympathetic. And I guess I appreciate the attempt. But after five years on the street, I guess little things like sentiment get lost in the shuffle. Either way, though I know it's a bad response for the issue, I'm not really upset by it or anything.
We watch the embers creep out to the edges and down the sides of the coal. After being sure the coal is fully lit, Caleb sets it on the right side of the foil.
"What's in it?" I ask.
"Half ganja, half Turkish tobacco," he replies. "Good tobacco."
I nod, glancing to the door. "Beats joints?"
He nods back. "Less of a high but much mellower. Lots more enjoyable. Plus, lasts longer."
He takes a light pull from one hose, and thick smoke bubbles up through the water, a lazy rolling haze filling the vase. He hands me the other hose. "Here. Take a slow draw, gentle. Don't pull too fast, or it'll scorch the leaf, make it taste burned."
Is it that obvious I've never smoked an actual hookah?
Probably. I've spent my entire adult life on the street. My experience with marijuana has so far been limited to joints. I do as I'm instructed.
The smoke is only a little harsh, then smooth, with a rich scent. I take it slowly, the cool vapors much milder than the occasional roach I've had in the past. Past the burble of the water I feel a tiny buzz in my hands and feet; the world seems to slow a little. I feel tension in my back and shoulders release that I didn't even know I had.
It's nice. Relaxed. Comfortable, even.
I let the smoke trickle out my mouth over the course of an exhale that's at least twice as long as the draw was. "Different," I say, the last of the smoke in my throat giving the word a muffled sound. "You're right. It's more slow, not as heavy."
Caleb takes a hit of his own. I watch the coil start to glow just a little brighter as he does. Kinda hypnotic.
Over the next hour, as we take turns, the high builds slowly. I wave away the notifications of mild and moderate intoxication; if Caleb notices it he doesn't say anything. We talk about pointless bullshit, raid the kitchen for tortilla chips and potato salad. The slow pace stretches it out, the sensation gentle and content.
"I fucking love potato salad," Caleb says. "Especially when you mix, like, relish and hard boiled eggs and mustard in it."
I look at the potato salad, then at him. "You made this?"
"No, you dumb fuck," he says with a shit eating grin. "I emptied a tub of store bought crap into the mixing bowl while you were stabbing yourself in the shower. Of course I made it. Can't live on your own in this town if you can't cook for yourself sometimes. Especially when you have people staying at your place at random times and eating all your food."
Oh. Makes sense. "Never would've guessed someone in the Merchants or Teeth for a cook, is all. Unless it's meth, heh..." My chuckle dies in my throat as he looks at me.
"How the... Your powers told you that?" He says.
Oh. Oh, right. Fuck. "Uh, yeah. Didn't think it'd be right to tell Skidmark after you helped me, though."
"He already knows," Caleb says. "Still, don't fucking talk about that shit. I won't be able to do my job if it gets out."
"Your job?" I ask. For the life of me I can remember my job. No, wait. His job.
"Recruiting, dumbass." This time, the insult isn't screwing around. "The people I hire for temp work, remember?"
"Oh... Right." I look at him. "Why do the Merchants do that, anyhow? Wouldn't it be cheaper to have, I dunno, more permanent crew instead of just hiring like that?"
He shakes his head, moving the coal from the last edge to the center of the foil. There isn't much left of the coal; he adds a broken chunk of another coal on top of it to get it lot before the first one burns out. "You'd think that, but no. We get the homeless hires, like you, and the commission sellers, but the actual Merchants? There's only like forty of us in the city."
I blink at him. "Serious? Just forty?"
"Maybe not even that. Half the guys you met this morning were commission. They sell for us, but they're not part of the organization."
I frown, trying to wrap my mind around that one. It doesn't make sense. "If they sell for Merchants, they're not Merchants? Does that mean I'm not a Merchant?"
"Eh, kinda. You're not in, yet. You only know my place, because I'm sort of like, the guy who brought you to Skidmark's attention. You don't have any administrative purpose, you can't even fight yet." He takes another pull on the hose. Through the smoke, he continues, "Skidmark definitely wants you, though."
I try to process this for a minute, a rather hard task given the amount of weed in my system. "So... He wants to keep me secret, right? If they're not really Merchants..."
Caleb shrugs, exhaling a narrow ribbon of smoke through the gap in his front teeth. "Shit, man, I don't know. It's Skidmark."
"What's that mean?"
"It means Skidmark is Skidmark." Caleb says with a shrug, and eats a nacho Dorito. "Dude's got way more brains than either of us, and he's always got a plan. Always. He doesn't hold the territory he does because he can't get anywhere better. He holds the territory he does because it has an unlimited supply of disposable workforce. Because it's got the clients be wants, people who will pay him for the privilege of enslaving themselves to his product, in exchange for a break from their worries, then will do anything to get a few more doses. They give themselves to him and they love him for it."
I feel a bit of a chill pushing through the mellow. Who the hell am I working for now? "And the Merchants?"
"Nah. Actual Merchants, we're too valuable. We don't get expended. The lower ranks get expended for us." He smiles at me, and for a split second, through the friendly expression I see something that seems... Cold. Calculating. Like when I was a kid, going to the Boston Zoo on a field trip, and I saw the pythons on the other side of the glass. One of them looked at me, and I remember clear as anything the feeling that it was measuring the distance to me, gauging the glass. I still have nightmares about standing in front of that exhibit, only there's no glass, and the snake decides it's worth the effort.
Except this snake decided I was worth the effort when he saw me gunshot, but more or less fine, come to get my money. He had me fooled, thinking he was cool. Have me a place to stay, have me food. That he could be nice. It was all an act.
I reach for a chip, then think the better of it. I suddenly don't feel safer than I was before at all. I don't have a place to go; the police still have evidence on me, which I still haven't gone to get. But I'm feeling like I need to NOT be here either. How much time do I have left?
Unlike other times, I get no answer from my power. I don't much care for it. I take a pull from the hose, then right on its heels, another.
Through repeated exposure to toxic substances, you've gained the subcategory Poisons in Mitigation!
I feel the buzz of the marijuana lessen a little bit. Somehow, I can't bring myself to feel too sorry about it. "I'm gonna go get a shower," I say.
He nods at me. "Cool."
I leave him in the living room, walking down the hall to the bathroom, leave my clothes on the floor, and step into the tub. I don't wait long enough for the water to warm up before pulling the knob up on the faucet, and the first spray is chilly, making me almost yell. Then, the heat hits, and I'm frantically fucking around with the cold and hot water knobs trying to get the water right. Finally, though, I get it where I want it, and take my shower.
It's a lot less satisfying than last night.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 3(1%)
HP: 180/180
MP: 45/45
STRENGTH:7 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 12 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 10
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT. Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
ABILITIES
Observe level 2 (77.2%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 9 (21%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 15%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 5 (12%)
-10 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 8 (3%)
-16 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (4%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
SKILLS
Basic Unarmed Combat 6 (51%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +18% attack speed, +30% unarmed attack damage.
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 16, 2017
623
Potato Nose
Mar 8, 2017
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Threadmarks Chapter Five
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 10, 2017
#123
Chapter Five
In the slums near the docks, there's a gym named Iron Man. Once it was a fairly successful business, if the building is anything to go by. Now, it's filled with unused equipment, dust, and the smell of rusting metal. I'm somehow unsurprised that Skidmark owns the building. It's just him, me, and a bulky Mexican guy this morning. Observe.
Enrique Maldonado
Bodybuilder
Level 12
HP: 275/315
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Dehydrated, Minor Roid Rage
The son of a Florida lawyer, Enrique rejected his father's wishes to go to college, instead wishing to make it big on the bodybuilding circuit. Even with the assistance of steroids, however, he does not possess the genetics to get as large as he wants to, which has built a major resentment in him.
"Purchased this dive through my lawyer," Skidmark informs me proudly. "That shit's a free lesson for you. Find yourself a smooth motherfucker to handle your business, do something with the money you pull in. Just be careful who you hire- there's some cock monglers out there that will grease your pucker and slow fuck you til you're dry right before they feed you to the pigs. I can give you some recommendations."
The weed paranoia from last night wore off while I was sleeping. I'm not a stranger to it, but with the way the high snuck up on me, it did too. I don't really remember the conversation near the end, just the snaky feeling, and that's a weed paranoia if I've ever felt it. "Yeah, thanks. So what are we doing here?"
Skidmark grins hideously at me, and tosses me a bag. "You're gonna eat half the shit in the bag, and you're gonna work out. Let's find out if your muscles roid out the way your regen does."
I look into the bag with a little nervousness, but all I see is a bunch of sandwiches and a couple bottles of Muscle Milk. I look back at Skidmark, who folds his arms. "Get on with it, cumstain."
I nod reluctantly, and pull out a sandwich. There's sliced roast beef and some green leafy stuff. I smell mustard. "So... Just the one guy today?"
"Yeah. He lifts; I gave him a discount on his injections to spot for you. Eat."
Biting into the sandwich, I taste mustard, black pepper, and horse radish. It's surprisingly good, even though I can't taste any mayo on it. I don't need encouragement to eat the whole thing. I eat the second without prompting, and wash it down with the muscle milk.
"So, how long am I spotting for?" asks Enrique.
Skidmark gives him a nasty looking smile. "Until you can't keep up."
Enrique gives me a wary look. But he nods, and we set to work.
"Push that fucking bar, you pansy!" yells Enrique, while my muscles burn and my breath burns in my chest, the first thing approximating pain that I've felt since I got my powers. "Stop holding your breath! Breathe and push the bar!" The bar rises, the thing feeling like it weighs a ton instead of the eighty pounds Enrique says it does. Gritting my teeth, I throw everything I still have into the effort, and after a miserable few seconds, I finally get the bar up. "Two more!"
I grit my teeth, lowering the bar slowly like Enrique said. "Don't bounce the fucking bar off your chest! And keep breathing!" Enrique barks out.
Halfway through the next lift, a window pops up.
Through proper instruction and effort, your STR increased by 1!
I can't let go of the bar to close the window. Have to work through it. But it's easier this time, although I'm still tired. "One more! Make it slow!" Calls out Enrique, although I think I hear a bit of a smile in his voice. Obediently, I lower the weight, the burst of strength starting to be overcome by my increasing exhaustion. Somehow, though, as he yells at me to slow down but keep moving, I get the last lift up.
"Maybe you aren't a waste are all," Enrique says. "Put the bar up."
I do; or at least, I try. The window announcing my strength increase is blocking my sight again. The right side of the bar hooks onto the bit of metal sticking up in front but the left misses. I'm surprised enough by it that I don't have time to react before the round plate slams into my ribs.
-8 hp(13 resisted)
"You stupid fuck!" The bar comes up and flies off to the side but then my head moves to the side suddenly.
-0 hp(11 resisted)
"Ow, fuck!"
I quickly swipe the window away to sit up, and see Enrique wringing his hand.
By the time Skidmark comes back from his phone call, Enrique says we should break for lunch, I've gained eleven STR, four VIT, and increased my Crushing Mitigation by one as I spent a little time hitting myself repeatedly with a 45 pound plate while Enrique rested between exercises. I'm hungry, very hungry, but my body looks different already. I go about the business of eating while Enrique is giving me strange looks that I can't really define.
Skidmark makes small talk with Enrique, not really addressing me. I look at my half eaten sandwich. Observe.
Roast Beef Sandwich
Food
Level 2
HP: 5/8
Condition: Fresh, Partially Eaten
Lean roast beef, fresh kale, stone ground mustard, pureed horse radish and black pepper on whole wheat. Flavorful, aromatic, and surprisingly healthy.
"What's kale?" I ask.
"Leafy green," Enrique answers scornfully. "High in vitamins A and C. Traces of other stuff too."
I nod, looking back at the rubber waist band. Earlier, Enrique had me running from the wall with the rubber cable tying me to the wall. You only get so far, before the band pulls you back, but Enrique ordered me to keep taking steps while I was pulled backwards. He had me do this multiple times after, in his words, repetitions to failure on one thing or another. Everything had a name. Everything had a correct way to do it, and I was almost never doing it that way. After hurting his hand, he just called me an idiot when he got frustrated with me for not getting something.
He's right, though. I guess I am an idiot. I know I'm not smart. I never was. It was one of the things my step dad used to hate most about me.
I look over at the rubber waist band. Observe.
Rubber Resistance Exercise Band, Large
Tool
Level 6
HP: 21/24
Condition: Good
Made by Superband LLC, this exercise band is rated for up to 110 pounds draw at full extension. Use caution around sharp objects while in use.
Observe gained a level!
I wave it away irritably. There needs to be a way to shut off those pop-ups. Or at least the 'gained a level, went up by one' stuff.
Another window immediately pops up.
Turn off level up notifications?
I nod and take another bite of my sandwich. Yes, definitely.
Notifications turned off. To turn them back on again, 'Inactive notifications set to active.' Or ask for help with notifications.
That's another thing. I need to find out what mitigation means. I'll ask Caleb to get me a dictionary.
"Finish your sandwich, fucker. I got shit to do, and you got people to meet."
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 3(1%)
HP: 220/220
MP: 45/45
STRENGTH: 18 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 16 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 10
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT. Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
ABILITIES
Observe level 3 (1.2%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 9 (55.8%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 15%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 6 (29%)
-12 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 8 (3%)
-16 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (4%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
SKILLS
Basic Unarmed Combat 6 (51%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +18% attack speed, +30% unarmed attack damage.
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 16, 2017
575
Potato Nose
Mar 10, 2017
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Threadmarks Chapter Six
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 12, 2017
#171
Chapter Six
When I was a teenager, I used to sneak downstairs to watch the scrambled Cinemax at night after Mom and Chuck were asleep, although really it was squinting at distorted video while listening to lewd sound track with the volume turned low. Three AM, that was when all the porn movies came on. I remember the excitement of maybe seeing what I wasn't supposed to be.
Right now, listening to Skidmark and Squealer make out while the souped up Bronco drives itself is both reminiscent of that, and just grosses me out. My discomfort is increased by all the pieces of... Whatever, piled around me and the other occupant of the backseat: Mush. The debris is mostly metal plates, although there's bunches of things I can barely grasp- motors, guns, cables- along with bunches of other things I have no clue WHAT they are.
Something about my feelings towards the make out session up front must show on my face, because Mush reaches over a metal chunk in his lap to offer me a little plastic bag with a pair of ear plugs in it. Looking at the bag, I can see the foam ear plugs are covered in black smudges and have a sort of greasy look to them. Observe.
Disposable Ear Plugs
Clothing
Level 1
HP: 1/1
Common, cheap noise reduction devices. Reduces hearing and sonic effects by 30 decibels; provides Sonic Mitigation 3. Stacks with other sources of Sonic Mitigation. Wearable: ear canals.
Condition: Fair, Filthy, Oily
These handy little bits of foam rubber are made by Johnson & Johnson. Although they were designed to be worn once before being discarded, this particular pair has seen... A lot of use.
Despite how nasty those ear plugs clearly are, it's almost worth it to not have to hear Skidmark and Squealer making out. Almost regretfully I shake my head, giving him a smile but not saying anything. He shrugs, sticking the bag to his bare forearm, and the thing seems to melt into his skin. He looks out the window, and I take the moment to get a better look at him. Observe.
Mush (Drew Teller)
The Bum
Level 23
HP: 209/410
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Cirrhosis, Malnourished, Depressed
Widower and father to two dead children, Drew simply gave up for eight months after his wife and kids were killed in a car accident during a short drive to pick up a pizza. In a fit of madness and grief, Drew burned down his house, resulting in jail time for arson. He lost his job; with no insurance money and no savings, he has been homeless ever since.
Damn. That sucks. Mush seems unbothered, like he either doesn't notice or doesn't care that I'm looking at him. His arms and legs are somewhat spindly- depressingly, less so than mine were, yesterday- but his potbelly sticks out nastily beneath a too small shirt over the large metal panel in his lap. His wispy hair doesn't do anything to conceal his scabby scalp, and his watery, bloodshot eyes are unpleasantly revealed past the bandana he wears.
Between him and Skidmark, I wonder if convincing them to exchange masks would improve both of them. With Skidmark's mask covering that scraggly hair and funny eyes, while Mush's mask covers Skidmark's mouth...
Although, considering the names he gives us, that he gave himself, maybe he likes it this way. I vaguely remember Caleb saying, "Skidmark is Skidmark, he's way smarter than either of us." Or something like that.
The wet smacking and humming noises finally stop as Skidmark's phone rings, and the vehicle shimmies just a little as Squealer takes the wheel again. Out the window, traffic goes on as normal, none of them knowing that in this particular SUV four Merchant capes and a junkyard are passing by. It's kind of a weird thought.
"You know who it is, now tell me what the fuck you want," I hear Skidmark say from the front seat.
The SUV slows to a stop for a red light. "... Good. Now have Robbie pull his thumb outta his ass and get down to Hardy Square. We got at least a dozen vendors getting ready for drop off and pick up this afternoon and I want the money moving on time; there's deposits to make." The light turns green; Squealer doesn't peel out like you'd think she would.
"That was Vincent about the Boardwalk vendors, baby?" asks Squealer.
"Yeah." There's the sound of a lighter wheel scraping against flint, and I'm a second, the smell of a lit cigarette. "It looks good; Christner was a good as his word."
Christner? Why does that name sound familiar?
Wait. "MAYOR Christner?"
Skidmark lets out a raucous laugh. "Fuck yeah. And the best part is, the cocksucker's got no idea Vincent works for me."
I look over at Mush, then back towards the front of the vehicle. "What's Vincent do?"
"Now, see," Skidmark says, "that's a bad fucking habit you got, being curious. Normally I'd penalize you but this is shit you're gonna know anyhow. Vincent is our other face."
"Other face?" I ask.
"For the legal side of the Archer's Bridge Merchants," he says. "See, just because we make a ton of money doesn't mean it's safe to spend. Three quarters of our take we launder through the Number Man, but the rest we put through our own interests here in Brockton Bay. For one, it's faster, and gives us cushioning, softer than Squealer's tits, on the off chance that someone ever manages to shut Number Man down. It's money that he isn't tied to."
"So... The Merchants own shops on the Boardwalk?" I ask after a second.
"Two, small ones, and they're part of it too, but the best laundering comes from food and drink. The guys with the carts?"
"... Those guys are Merchants?"
Both Squealer and Skidmark laugh, this time. "No, my little cumstain," Skidmark replies. "They're just vendors. They sell for us. Just like the dealers. Except they all belong to the same company: Argon Vending, LLC."
Both Skidmark and Squealer laugh again, and there's the sound of a high five up front. I feel like I'm missing the joke. "So... How does that, ah, help?"
"Lots of ways," Skidmark answers, "but time enough for that later. We're here." I almost ask where 'here' is, but Squealer turns the vehicle left into a parking lot.
I recognize one of the other cars here- it's the junker that Caleb drives. I never thought to ask what he does during the day. I'll have to ask him.
I take off the seatbelt; Skidmark says, "Spurt, I want you helping Squealer get all that shit in the back attached to the ride. I'm off to speak to the masses. Mush, with me."
I start to open the door, but Squealer does something, and the back door of the Bronco doesn't unlock. "Uh..."
"Didn't you fucking hear Skids?" Squealer asks. "You're helping me soup up the ride. We're not doing it here."
Mush gets out on his side, stopping only to pull a half dozen or so thick metal bolts from his leg and leave them on the seat. Closing the door behind him, he and Skidmark start walking away. With each step Mush takes, trash he steps on first wraps around his feet, then travels up his shoulders and arms and legs. Some of it seems to soak into his skin while the rest just layers around him. God, that is the weirdest power.
I put the seatbelt back on. Squealer backs the SUV up, then turns it around, and we pull back out of the parking lot.
I clear my throat. "So, where are we going?"
"Body shop." The words are clipped and unfriendly. "Usually I get a couple guys to do the heavy lifting but Skiddie thinks you can do it by yourself. So you better live up to billing."
"Up to billing?" I ask uncertainly.
"Christ, you're stupid," she mutters under her breath. "If you're half as strong as you are dumb you'll be fine."
Well fuck you too, bitch.
Several times over the next two hours I notice things getting easier to move and lift. Squealer went from rolling her eyes to satisfied to mildly impressed as the day went on. After hoisting a second engine into what had been the cargo area in the back of the Bronco, I got the first actual smile out of her. "Think I'll have you do this shit more often. It'll sure as hell mean less need of special lifting equipment."
I shrug. I'm tired again. It's been heavy lifting, but the Bronco now has a pair of machine guns attached to the top on something she calls a sponson. Something else to look up when Caleb gets me that dictionary. Combined with a lot of plates of solid metal, and a bunch of crap that I have no idea what it's for, she armored the entire outside of the SUV, even the wheel wells.
"So now what?" I ask.
"Now, the wheel caps come off again," she says.
"But we just put those on," I protest.
"That was just to fit them. They fit, now we do the tires."
Doing the tires involves me stripping the exterior layer away, revealing metal wires woven into the rubber. She adds layers of paste to each one, with me holding these increasingly heavy tires for each layer she adds. When I'm not coating the tires I'm doing a lot of mixing as she adds chemicals, liquids, and at one point, has me grind up a half dozen bags of crushed soda cans to pour the resulting shavings into the mix.
Level up! You gained five stat points.
New Perk!
I stop. I gained a level? Don't actually know how, but I'm not complaining. Oh, and a new Perk?
As good as regeneration has been, I can't wait to see what other perks will do.
Menu. Perks. Perk trees-
"What the fuck are you doing?" Squealer demands. "I'm not finished here, goat fucker, I still need you moving shit!"
"I need a break," I say.
Squealer starts to say something, then looks at the wall clock. She looks at the SUV, the tires that are hanging to dry, then shrugs. "Ten fucking minutes, that's it."
She stomps off towards the office. I turn my head to the rolling door. Menu. Perks. Perk Trees.
Spoiler
PERKS:
Chameleon
Your skin can darken or lighten based on your surroundings; occurs automatically when attempting Stealth. Grants a 5% bonus to Stealth benefits and Stealth experience. +2 AGI.
Requirements: Regenerator
Fast Regenerator
You heal even faster. You now recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every twenty seconds instead of every thirty seconds. +2 VIT.
Requirements: Regenerator
Tough as Nails:
You're ridiculously hard to injure. After any other damage reduction, reduce damage taken by your level. +2 to STR.
Opens Juggernaut Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Fast Learner:
You pick up new skills quickly. You gain +5% increased experience to skills and abilities; reduce requirements from skill books by 5%. +2 to INT.
Opens Scholar Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
The Artful Dodger:
You're nimble, light on your feet. You have 10% increased chance to dodge attacks while using acrobatic abilities or skills. +2 to AGI.
Opens Acrobat Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Scrounger:
You have a knack for finding what you need, at a good price. Increases chance to locate objects for sale by 10%, and reduces the cost of those items by 0-15%. +2 to CHA.
Opens Well Connected Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
Hunch:
You have acquired a talent for making better decisions. While making a choice, you have a 10% chance of getting a good vibe off the better alternative. +2 to WIS.
Opens Guiding Light Perk tree.
Requirements: none.
1 Unused Perk Point
Chameleon? It sounds good... On the other hand, increasing my regeneration speed sounds even better.
I debate this in my mind for a little. All the benefits still look really good. But... What did it say before? Stick to my strengths. Or something.
Stats.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 4(0.7%)
HP: 275/275
MP: 50/50
STRENGTH: 23 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 19 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 15
Damn, my hp went up a lot. Okay, then. Regaining them faster is a good way to survive, I bet.
Select Fast Regenerator.
Spoiler
PERKS:
You have selected Fast Regenerator. Once you confirm this selection, it cannot be undone. Continue? Y/N.
"Yes," I mumbled.
Spoiler
Stats.
Spoiler
Peter Gardner
Level 4(0.7%)
HP: 295/295
MP: 50/50
STRENGTH: 23 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 21 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 15
My eyes zero in on the Unused Stat Points. What the hell does-
"Time's up, shit stain," Squealer announces. "We're going back to work."
Time enough to wonder about that later. I smile, and nod at her. "Ready when you are."
Spoiler
Level 4(0.7%)
HP: 295/295
MP: 50/50
STRENGTH: 23 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 21 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 3 [+]
CHARISMA: 2 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 15
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
Fast Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Fast Regenerator: You heal even faster. You now recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every twenty seconds instead of every thirty seconds. +2 VIT.
ABILITIES
Observe level 3 (41.6%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 9 (55%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 15%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 6 (29%)
-12 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 8 (3%)
-16 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (4%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
SKILLS
Basic Unarmed Combat 6 (51%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +18% attack speed, +30% unarmed attack damage.
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 13, 2017
578
Potato Nose
Mar 12, 2017
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Threadmarks Chapter Seven
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 14, 2017
#218
Chapter Seven
My hauling and lifting continues for another four hours; it's after dark by the time the tires are complete. The tires are some reddish black material that acts a lot like rubber tires, except (entirely at Squealer's prompting) when I try to cut it with a knife, then a hack saw, I get almost no results. I say almost, because after a few seconds of sawing, the overheated hack saw snaps. Squealer seems satisfied with the results.
"We're done," Squealer announces. "Now you can get the fuck out of my workshop; I've already texted Skiddie. You're not needed for anything else on this project and you're in the way."
I'm starting to really not like her. Even so, there's a nagging sensation in the back of my neck that says provoking her is a bad idea. Much as I want to call her a flaming cunt for the attitude she's thrown at me all day, I actively resist the urge.
If nothing else, I saw the size of the bullets in the ammo box that she hooked up to the machine guns. They're all about the length and thickness of a finger at the base. Getting shot by one of those would suck, and there's two of those machine guns side by side on that sponsor mount, or whatever she called it. I'm pretty sure I'm going to need a hell of a lot more damage resistance and mitigation to handle getting shot by that.
Of course, not saying it doesn't stop me from thinking it.
Squealer folds her arms impatiently. "The fuck are you doing still standing there? I said get out."
I walk to the side door and open it, stepping outside. The air is cool and rapidly getting colder now that the sun is down. I open my mouth and breathe out, trying to see my breath, but it's not that cold yet. The various run down shops and empty business slots of the building face a street empty of cars. Across the street I see a woman tightly clutching her purse and hurrying on her way, throwing an anxious look in my direction as she does.
With a start, I realize that she's probably got good reason. I'm a Merchant now. We don't have a good reputation; robbery, forced addiction, assault, and much worse are all blamed on us, and it's not unjustified. I've seen what desperate junkies will do to get their next fix, what they'll do to bystanders, each other, and even themselves. Still, the thought that the sight of me send her in fear of her belongings, her life, and possibly more makes me feel... Uncomfortable.
I watch her until she turns a corner.
A buzzing noise off to my left jolts me out of my thoughts. It takes me a second to recognize him, since he's half standing in shadow, blocked off from the light of the street lamp. Skidmark, and he's smiling again. "Hey baby. So, how'd the cum stain handle it? Keep his temper alright?"
I watch him as he walks forward, the streetlight's orange glow rising up his shirt, and he puts a finger across his lip. "No troubles? Held his temper? Followed orders?" He meets my eyes with his own as he pauses, then answers, "Yeah, I think he'll work out just fine."
He presses something on his phone and pockets it, walking over to me. "Gotta say, Spurt, you made a good impression on her."
"I did?" I reply. "I thought she didn't like me. She was kinda a racing bitch." I slap my hand over my mouth, the words just sort of slipping out.
Skidmark just laughs. "I told her to be."
"Why?"
"I wanted to know what you'd do. If you'd do what you were fucking told to, or lose your shit and make her fuck you up." He pulls out something from his coat pocket, unwraps it, and bites at it with his molars on the left side, chewing carefully. Observe.
Skidmark (Adam Mustain)
Gang Leader
Level 30
HP: 308/545
Affiliations: Merchants.
Condition: Intoxicated (meth), Addiction (meth), Moderate Dental Abscess, Cape
The infamous leader of the Archer's Bridge Merchants, Skidmark is known to be a drug addled thug. Less known is his surprising intellect, or the real depth of his plans for the gang. There is more organization to the Archer's Bridge Merchants than anyone guesses.
More than last time. I guess I haven't Observed Skidmark since the last time I leveled it up. "Your abscess is getting worse," I comment.
"Yeah, tell me something I don't fucking know, asshole," he growls.
I wince a little. Stupid of me to think saying something would help. Teach me to keep my mouth shut. I change the subject. "So... What do I do now?"
"You go home," Skidmark says. "You get some sleep. Tomorrow, you build up a bit more. This rate, we get to reveal to the unwashed high masses our answer to Dauntless by Friday."
I nod. "What day is it?"
He gives me a funny look. "Tuesday. April 12."
"Sorry," I reply, shifting uncomfortably. "I've been kinda homeless a while. You lose track."
Skidmark grunts, taking another molar bite of his whatever it is. "How long?"
"Uh... 2005?" I answer. "Just before spring break."
He grunts again. "So what are you. Twenty? Twenty one?"
I take a moment to think. "Uh, August 8, '88, so... Twenty two." I stare out at the street as a small car drives by. One taillight is out on it, making me wonder how long til it gets pulled over.
"Done time yet?"
"Three months for unpaid fines," I reply.
"Ah, old fucking story, that one," Skidmark says with a nod, finishing his snack bar, and lighting up a roach he'd had tucked under the edge of his mask. "What was the original?"
"Stole about thirty dollars in ground beef from a Foodies Mart, got caught."
"And the fine?"
"Hundred fifty dollars. Judge said five times the value of the stolen property because it was contaminated from being under my coat, did damage to the image of the market." I shrug. "Fuck all I could do to pay it. Wouldn't've been stealing fucking ground beef if I could afford to pay a hundred fifty dollar fine. Next time the alley got shook down, cops swept me up on refusal to pay the fine. Got sentenced three months. Told me I was lucky, could've been up to a year." The resentment is strong, still, the feeling of unfairness rising again. I push it down, like always.
Instead of screaming I spit, as much to focus on the here and now as to give my opinion of the memory, of the law in general. "And motherfuckers wonder why this city needs me," Skidmark says, offering the blunt. "Shit like that written into the law and motherfuckers wonder why we wipe our asses on it. Not like the law doesn't line up ninety eight percent of the people for the other two percent to bugger."
I take the joint, bringing it to my lips and inhaling slowly. The smoke is harsh; the buzz hits in seconds. It's only a few more seconds before I start to relax. I hold the hit for a little longer, then longer still. I hand the joint back to Skidmark, only exhaling when, after a good half minute, I finally start to feel the urge to take a breath. Barely any wisps of smoke are left to exhale by the time I do.
Skidmark gives me a slow clap, the joint hanging from his lip. "Not fucking bad, cumstain. Not fucking bad at all. Decent pair of lungs on you."
I shrug, looking back towards the roll doors behind which Squealer is working on the truck. "Getting better. All around, I'm getting better, I guess."
The two of us are silent for a while; I really don't know what else to say to him. He ends up breaking the silence. "So, it's unconfirmed, right now, but word on the street is Armsmaster took down Lung last night. If so, ABB's days are numbered. Means that the Protectorate is gonna have more time for Merchants."
It's a flash of realization. "That's why you're trying to get me stronger, isn't it?"
He gives me an amused look. "Kinda fucking obvious, but yeah. Powers like yours are rare, and usually start to level off after a bit. I want you closer to your soft maximum before anybody knows about you."
Another vehicle comes down the street. Skidmark and I watch it with the sort of focus that only street people on the lookout for cops can manage. This one turns into the parking lot. It takes me a second in the orange glare of the street light to recognize the four door '82 Skylark, with its patchy hood and the cracked grill. Caleb's car.
"Ready to head back?" He says through the rolled down passenger window.
I nod, opening the door, and give Skidmark an upnod. He nods back. I get in the car.
Caleb is quiet as we pull out of the parking lot. Tilting my head, through the side mirror I can just see Skidmark going inside the door I'd used when Squealer evicted me from the body shop.
I Observe everything I can along the way back to Caleb's apartment, which is less than I'd like, given the time of night. It seems I need a second or so and decent light to make use of the ability. Mostly I end up Observing signs.
Suddenly, Caleb speaks up. "Not what you'd expect, is he?"
I respond, "Who?" although I already know exactly what he means.
"Skidmark." I wait for him to go on, but he doesn't.
I finally shrug. "Not really." I look over at Caleb suddenly. "Hey, did you hear Armsmaster caught Lung?"
Caleb nods. "That's the story the papers have. Rumor has it he had help."
"Oh. Is that why Skidmark said it was unconfirmed?"
Caleb nods as we slow to make a right turn. "If any tinker could do it, it'd be him or Dragon."
I shrug. I don't know much about the cape scene despite the number we supposedly have here in the Bay. I saw more capes today than I've ever seen in one place.
"Oh, right," Caleb says. "Back seat, got you a bunch of books."
I look over my shoulder, and see a khaki green backpack with faint purple stains on it. "I just wanted the one book."
"Well, one of the guys noticed a bunch of girls throwing the backpack in the dumpster, so he grabbed it. Probably has a math book in it, and fuck it, it's free, right?"
That's a good point. I don't give a rat's ass about the stains, and it looks pretty sturdy otherwise. If nothing else, I got a free backpack.
I reach back and haul the pack up front, bumping Caleb's shoulder with it in the process. "Jesus fuck, man! I'm driving here!"
"My bad," I say, pulling the bag into my lap. There's a bunch of wadded up wrappers, a handful of orange peels, and a crumpled up single serve cartoon of milk stuffed in the bag, on top of a few notebooks, a half dozen textbooks, and something that looks like it was made out of cardboard and carefully painted before someone took a lot of effort to stomp it flat. There's a few shoe prints on it, from several sets of shoes.
Wonder what it was. Maybe Observe can tell me? Observe.
Ruined Art Homework
Decoration
Level 2
HP: 0/3
A cardboard and paint project that once was a carefully, if not particularly skillfully, recreation of a single story house. It has been viciously stomped until it was unrecognizable, then carefully placed between two textbooks for the original creator to find.
Wonder who this guy pissed off. Oh well, not my problem. I pick up the first textbook.
You have found a skill book! Would you like to learn [Computer Programming] now?
Wait, what? I can do that? Fuck yes!
There's a bright flash, and both Caleb and I yell. The car Steve's and for a moment there I'm sure we're gonna crash. Then, Caleb gets control of the car. "What the FUCK, man?" Caleb shouts at me.
"I didn't know that was gonna happen!" I yell back.
"What the fuck happened?" He hollers.
"I don't know, I just-"
Both of us go quiet as we hear the blip behind us, and red and blue lights begin flashing behind us.
"Fucking hell, look what you did!" "It was an accident-" "-How do you blow up a book on accident?!" "-I don't know what the-"
The siren comes on behind us, shutting our argument down immediately. "Shit, we gotta pull over."
"Pull over?!" Caleb says incredulously. "This is a company car man! And you smell like weed!"
"Company car?" I ask dumbly.
"Company car! Merchants company car, man, it's fucking stolen!"
Ahhh fuck. I look over my shoulder. "... Pull over."
I see Caleb out of the corner of my eye looking like he's about to argue with me, but then begins pulling over. "This is a bad fucking idea."
I'm a little surprised he's listening to me. "What do you think we should do?"
"We need to lose them." His voice is flat and insistent.
"How do we do that?" I ask.
He wilts. "You think you can take them down without killing em? Bad enough resisting arrest, but they come down on cop killers. And you're a cape, that goes double for you."
The vehicle allows to a stop. I feel alert. Not nervous, really, but very aware. Okay. Don't kill the officers. Stop them. Let us get away.
I can do this. I reach out and open the car door.
Level up! You gained five stat points.
Getting back in the car, I swipe the obnoxious box away. I have a few taser burns and a couple bullet holes in my shirt, but the damage to me is already regenerating. The tasers stung, and the bullets were more annoying than anything; their night sticks even less significant. Caleb raises an eyebrow at me. "We clear?"
I nod, tossing the dash cam and the police radio on the floor of the car. "Let's go."
Spoiler
Level 5(89.7%)
HP: 285/320
MP: 55/55
STRENGTH: 25 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 21 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 4 [+]
CHARISMA: 3 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 20
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
Fast Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Fast Regenerator: You heal even faster. You now recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every twenty seconds instead of every thirty seconds. +2 VIT.
ABILITIES
Observe level 3 (77.0%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 10 (20.3%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 16.5%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 6 (84%)
-12 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 9 (3%)
-18 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (21%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
Electricity: level 1 (22%)
-2 to all electricity damage.
SKILLS
Basic Unarmed Combat Level 7 (26%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +21% attack speed, +33% unarmed attack damage.
Computer Programming Level 1 (0%)
You understand how to construct algorithms for computer programs. +5% speed and +2 effective INT when programming computers. Known languages: Java, C++
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 19, 2017
595
Potato Nose
Mar 14, 2017
View content
Threadmarks Chapter Eight
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 16, 2017
#246
Chapter Eight
As we walk into the apartment, Caleb heads straight for the kitchen. He didn't say anything to me after we ditched the car, so we walked back here in silence. I held up to the walk a lot better than he did. Honestly, I felt like I could run it.
Caleb takes a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open and drinking half the can with the fridge door still swung wide. He stops guzzling momentarily to let out a thunderous belch, followed by a smaller one a second last, then finishes the can and tosses it towards the trash can before grabbing a second. Glancing at me, he gets a third before toeing the door shut on the fridge.
I flop onto the side of the couch closest to the hallway, more to minimize the distance Caleb has to walk to sit down than out of any need to rest. My eyes go to the backpack.
"So what happened in the car, man?" Caleb asks, shoving the spare can of beer in my direction. As I take it, he continues, "I thought you wanted to, you know, read that shit, not blow it up."
"Uh, my power kinda took everything in the book and stuffed it into my head," I reply, thumbing the tab up on the beer and taking a sip. Wheat, malt, and something like honey hits my tongue. "Don't know why the book blew up, but everything that was in it is in my head, now."
Caleb looks at me a second, then pulls out his phone. He stares at it, then pockets it again. "That's crazy, man. What book was it?"
"Computer Programming," I answer. "Uh, Java and C++."
"Shit. You just blow up a book and you learn everything in it?"
"I guess." I have no idea what the hell is up with my powers. This is the weirdest thing from it yet. I take another swallow of my beer.
"Man, you got some seriously strange powers," Caleb says, echoing my thoughts. He tilts the can back and finishes his beer. "I'm heading to bed. If you blow up any more books, make sure the blinds are closed."
I nod, nursing my can of beer as he gets up and heads down the hall to his room.
It's quiet tonight. No couples arguing in earshot or crying kids. Either that, or the sound proofing in this placeplace is better than I thought.
I set the half finished beer on the arm of the couch and get up, walking over and closing the blinds in the kitchen. Then, back to the living room, where I open up the backpack again.
The math book doesn't give me any message like the programming book did. Neither does the biology or world events book. Strange. What's the difference between the programming book and the others? They're all textbooks, right?
I look at the math book. Well, I wanted it, and there it is. Programming was just a sweet bonus. I pick up the book and start flipping through it.
Unfortunately, I can't figure this. I never managed to get to pre algebra in high school, part of that whole 'being dumb' thing. Although... I wonder if it's possible to train up my mind the way I have my body?
Oh shit! Those unspent points. Stats.
Spoiler
Level 5(89.7%)
HP: 320/320
MP: 50/50
STRENGTH: 25 [+]
AGILITY: 8 [+]
VITALITY: 21 [+]
INTELLIGENCE: 7 [+]
WISDOM: 4 [+]
CHARISMA: 3 [+]
LUCK: 1 [+]
Unused Stat Points: 20
Wow. I'm almost level six.
... That one fight with those cops did all that? That's crazy.
Twenty stat points. How do I use them?
STATS
The interface for the stat screen provides a symbol next to each stat for the purposes of improving them. Increasing stats simply requires touching the icon on the visual interface. Keep in mind any such increases are permanent, and once selected, cannot be deselected.
I look at my stats again. What do I choose?
Psh. No contest. I learned a long time ago that if you don't live to tomorrow, nothing you planned for that day happens. Survival comes first.
I poke the button by the vitality stat until I run out of points and it vanishes.
Oh... I can FEEL the difference. I'm full of energy. I feel like I could run a marathon. Like I could run ten of them. I get to my feet, bouncing a little.
Oh... Yeah. Stats.
Spoiler
Level 5(89.7%)
HP: 520/520
MP: 55/55
STRENGTH: 25
AGILITY: 8
VITALITY: 41
INTELLIGENCE: 7
WISDOM: 4
CHARISMA: 3
LUCK: 1
That was a HUGE jump to my hp. This is awesome.
And I'm not even a little sleepy.
Since I can't learn any new skills off these books, and I can't use the geometry book, I need a way to burn off some energy.
That marathon idea is sounding pretty good. I think I'm going to go out running. I can skirt the northern edge of the slums and run around the Railyard for a while.
I'm barely fifteen minutes into my run before a new message pops up.
Through dedicated effort, you've created the [Running] skill!
I swipe the notification away without stopping. Menu. Skills. Running.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 1(3%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 10% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 8.8 mph
I immediately move the window like I did... Yesterday? Day before? Don't remember. Half the time I forget I can do this.
I chuckle to myself. If Running is like any other skill, then it's going to get better as I level it up.
I push myself to my fastest and hold there, running through the gravel of the abandoned railyard a few feet to the side of the tracks. I'm not getting that tired, but after twenty minutes or so it ticks over to level two, then later level three, four, five...
As I run, I find I have a lot of time to think. I'm useful to people, now. Sure, Merchants, but I'm still useful. Or at least, I can be soon. But then, somebody took down Lung. I'm supposed to be the guy that shows everyone the Merchants are a group to be careful around.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 4(81.6%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 40% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 11.2 mph
But am I good enough? I'm just... Peter. Peter Peter, Fingernail Eater. Made it through junior high on luck, pity, and summer school, the last mostly out of frustration by summer school teachers who could see I was trying, but... I just didn't GET it. A step dad who never missed a chance to tell me how much I disappointed him, and that it's small wonder my Dad split after seeing how I was turning out.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 6(51.0%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 60% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 12.8 mph
No. I'm worth something now. He always said I'd never amount to anything.
Except I didn't, did I? Living on the streets for what, five years? Six years? No, five years. Eating out of trash cans, squatting in condemned and abandoned properties, stealing clothes and food, working for Merchants. And now, I've got super powers. Really cool ones. And the best I can do is the Merchants?
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 8(33.4%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 80% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 14.4 mph
At some point, as the minutes turn to hours, I can't tell if I'm running towards improvement or running away from memories that don't stop, the doubts that are creeping in. I'm not that kid anymore. In the distance, I hear the 'whoop whoop' of someone's car alarm.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 10(48.8%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 100% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 16 mph
My breathing is easy, my pace steady and my footsteps version, gravel flying up alongside the rusted railroad tracks . Running laps, faster and faster with each passing hour. My mind keeps pace.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 11(55.9%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 110% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 16.8 mph
I'm running fast, now, faster than I ever have in my life. Getting faster. Hearing the distant sounds of pre dawn traffic, a dog barking mindlessly, as I'm hopping between tracks, trying to keep my speed up as I reach the end of one train shelter, running up the steps of the concrete loading platform.
Before doesn't matter. I'm something now. I'm not the something that Chuck always thought I should be... but I AM something now. I jump mid stride, hopping over a railing so that I don't have to slow down. I stumble, but keep my feet and most of my speed.
Through rough practice and determination, you have puzzled out the Basic Parkour skill!
And suddenly I can see where I need to put my hands, where to put my feet.
Then, I slow to a stop, as I notice the slowly gathering color in the sky. With a touch of panic, I realize it's been many hours. The sun is coming up; my muscles have a sort of slow burn and ache that's receding, now that I've stopped running. I feel good. Somewhere along the line, the doubts started to fall away.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Running level 13(1.4%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 130% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 18.4 mph
I turn, and start jogging to apartment. I should be able to make it there by the time Caleb wakes up.
I swipe away the window for Running as I carefully open the front door with the key Caleb gave me. He's still not up. And I smell to high heaven.
I consider flopping down on the couch as is, but change my mind. Instead, I go into the bathroom and turn the water on low, trying to bathe myself quietly. I'm not too successful but in short order I smell like a human being again. I pull on the pants again, and leave the shirt and socks soaking in the sink. Won't do anything for the burned spots or gunshot holes in the shit and probably not much for the blood either, but it's either soak them or throw them away.
Clad in my pants and nothing else, I then proceed to flop onto the couch. I don't remember falling asleep.
Spoiler
Level 5(89.7%)
HP: 560/560
MP: 60/60
STRENGTH: 25
AGILITY: 10
VITALITY: 45
INTELLIGENCE: 8
WISDOM: 4
CHARISMA: 3
LUCK: 1
Unused Stat Points: 0
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
Fast Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Fast Regenerator: You heal even faster. You now recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every twenty seconds instead of every thirty seconds. +2 VIT.
ABILITIES
Observe level 3 (77.0%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 10 (20.3%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 16.5%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 6 (84%)
-12 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 9 (38%)
-18 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (21%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
Electricity: level 1 (22%)
-2 to all electricity damage.
SKILLS
Basic Parkour level 2 (91%)
You can navigate obstacles without breaking stride. 10% improved footing while moving at a run, +4 effective AGI when avoiding obstacles at a run.
Basic Unarmed Combat level 7 (26%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +21% attack speed, +33% unarmed attack damage.
Computer Programming Level 1 (0%)
You understand how to construct algorithms for computer programs, and possess knowledge of C++ and Java. +5% speed and +2 effective INT when programming computers.
Running level 13(12.1%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 130% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 18.4 mph
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Craft (cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
Last edited: Mar 19, 2017
603
Potato Nose
Mar 16, 2017
View content
Threadmarks Chapter Nine
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Potato Nose
Potato Nose
(Verified Alpaca) (Monkey With a Typewriter)
Mar 19, 2017
#374
Chapter Nine
I wake up around nine thirty. Not a trace of stiffness; I roll my shoulders and just marvel at the sensation.
Caleb isn't up yet- his door is still closed down the hall.
I take advantage of the privacy and the necessary moment to adjust the junk; it's not glamorous but a guy only has to get that delicate skin pinched once- or worse, zippered- to ensure that he never lets it happen again. I open the fridge to assess the contents.
The fridge is pretty barren. My choices are... leftover Chinese takeout, a quarter jar of peanut butter, beer, and... Not much else. I don't know how long that Chinese take out has been in here. Right then. Peanut butter and beer, the breakfast of champions.
Doing nothing but running last night for hours on end... I liked it. And I got something from it, too.
I spoon out a wad of peanut butter, thick enough that I have to turn the spoon to keep it from dripping onto the floor. I cap the jar one handed, seeing it back on the shelf, before grabbing a can of the winter ale and mimicking Caleb's toe-close of the fridge door from last night.
Okay, so as breakfasts go this one is kind of lame. Still, it beats going hun-
Quest "Habeas Corpus" failed!
Oh... Oh fuck. I completely forgot about that shit. The fuck do I do now?
Spoiler
New quest! Rally High
Attend the rally Friday, and finish the night sober and intact.
Reward: 2500 exp, improved reputation with the Merchants
Failure: Reduced reputation with the Merchants, ?.
I swipe away at the new quest, and stare at the 'quest failed' like it'll change of I look at it hard enough. I want to go back to last night. I want to break into the police station and get the gun back instead of having run around a railyard like an idiot.
Like me.
I don't want to be brought up on charges again. Jail was terrible. The worst three months of my life. Not just the other images, but the feeling of being trapped. Helpless. Having no say in any part of my own life. Even being hungry and homeless is better, most of the time.
And this time, I slowly realize, there won't be any pretense of going easy on me. Not with my fingerprints on a gun with no serial numbers. They have my picture from when I was arrested before, it's not like I've changed that much. They make you shave once you go in, so even shaving my scruff won't help.
I know what this means. It means that with or without a mask, there's no safety from the law for me.
I have to get stronger. Tougher. I have to get strong enough that they can't take me back there- but now, getting stronger, that's something I can do.
The next two days are a blur of activity. Skidmark manages to get ahold of a massive tire from some kind of industrial tractor, a tire that's bigger than either of us. In six hours I go from awkwardly lifting it up and pushing it over across a warehouse floor to flipping it easily. My strength increases.
I only need about two hours sleep. At nights I go running in the railyard, practicing parkour. Agility increases a good bit the first night, and a few more points the second. Running improves a lot.
I'm looking over my stats Friday morning when I hear Skidmark's three knocks on the door, he seems... a little late today.
And, as Caleb lets him in, he looks a little sick. Observe.
Skidmark (Adam Mustain)
Gang Leader
Level 30
HP: 250/545
Affiliations: Merchants, Cauldron.
Condition: Mildly Intoxicated (meth), Addiction (meth), Severe Dental Abscess
The infamous leader of the Archer's Bridge Merchants, Skidmark is known to be a drug addled thug. Less known is his surprising intellect, or the real depth of his plans for the gang. There is more organization to his organization than anyone guesses.
Do I say something? Would he even listen to me? He got angry last time I mentioned it. Except it's getting worse. His hp is getting low.
I chicken out. "What do you have for me today?"
He gives a slight chuckle. "No ass beating today. We're gonna take advantage of some of the other shit you can do."
I'm a little puzzled. "What kind of things?"
"The book things." At my blank expression, he goes on, "The books? Caleb told me you can learn shit from some books. So I've had our store owners buying an elephant's ass load of them from the used bookstores by the college, Barnes and Noble, all that bullshit."
"Buying them?" I parrot.
He snorts. "What, you think I would've stole them instead?" He grins at me, clearly expecting me to say yes. "See, that's called motherfucking subtlety. You build a rep for theft- but when you really don't want the cocksuckers to know what you're doing, you do it legally. You steal books, they wonder what the fuck you wanted them for so bad. You buy them, and the dumb shits don't look twice or think once."
He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "To the car. Time's wasting, cumstain, tonight's your cotillion!"
"My what?"
"Your debut, your coming out party!" he says, some of his familiar energy leaking back into his voice. "Tonight's the fucking night! And you got work to put in before you do!"
Caleb stops halfway to the kitchen, casting a regretful look in the direction of the fridge, before sighing and turning towards the door. "There's a rally tonight?"
Skidmark aims a dire look at Caleb. "Yes. I told you earlier in the week it was Friday fucking night. And tonight is Friday fucking night, dipshit. Which means your ass is pulling in part timers for party night. So remind me, you diarrhea soaked pube off a baboon's taint, what the fuck do I pay you for?"
"Order behind the chaos," Caleb mumbles, looking off to the side.
"Damn fucking straight, mung tongue," Skidmark snarls. "Any other stupid questions or are you gonna engage your fucking brains again?"
Skidmark doesn't wait for a response, instead jerking his thumb in the direction of the door. "Get fucking moving already. We're on a schedule."
You cannot learn this skill. You must have at least 15 INT.
"... I'm not smart enough to learn this one either," I say. I've seen that message far too many times this afternoon. Not smart enough, not wise enough, I don't know a required skill.
Skidmark had had me divide the books into three piles: the books that aren't skill books, the ones that are but I can't use, and the ones that are that I can. The last is the smallest pile.
"You know, I get the pattern," Skidmark says after browsing the various titles. "If it's a trade or an action or an activity, you can theoretically learn it. A lot of this shit you can't use because you have the IQ of a sack of dumb puppies." I wince. "But most of that, I'm betting, is because of your step dad. You said the motherfucker use to hit you a lot. Upside the head?"
I nod. "Yeah. A bit."
"More than just a fucking bit, I'm betting. He knocked you out?"
I nod slowly. "... Yeah."
"Someone knocks you out, it's because they smack you in the head hard enough to rattle your fucking brains against the bone of your skull, numb nuts," he growls. "Tiny bits of brain damage that keep fucking adding up. He was with your mom since you were about six fucking years old, am I right?"
I nod again, surprised. I never told him that. "How'd you know?"
"Because most of the shit you have trouble with is shit that the average second grader manages. You've had brain damage from that cock mongling dog fucker since you were a little kid. The kind that adds up, like boxers and football players get." He spits off to the side, and something an unhealthy reddish brown is in the wad. "But because you were in a public school in the fucking Bay nobody thinks of checking cause they have enough good damn problems, they just assume you're a borderline potato and pass you down the chain."
Hearing Skidmark say that, I'd have thought it would be humiliating. But it actually isn't. I'm not defective after all. I was just... damaged. It wasn't because there was something wrong with me, but because there was something wrong with Chuck.
"For now, learn the martial arts shit. You regenerate so your fucked up brains are probably healed- unless your power makes even less sense than most powers. Which happens. Until I see otherwise, though, I'm gonna assume that all you fucking need now is practice using your brain and you'll be able to pick all that shit up."
"Are you gonna do something about that abscess?" I ask suddenly.
Skidmark casually flips me the bird. "I'll fucking do something later. God damn mother hen. I got more important shit on my plate right now."
"Like my de-butt," I snark.
"Motherfucker, you think you're cute?" He says with a snort. "I know that one was on fucking purpose."
"Coulda been," I respond.
"So, the martial arts," he presses. Then, he takes one of the books from the small pile. "Also, that one."
"Speed reading?" I ask. "If I can absorb books, then-"
"Fucker, don't question me. And just cause you can't turn it into a skill doesn't mean it's not fucking useful to you, me, or the Merchants. That one right the fuck after martial arts."
I shrug, picking up the Tao of Jeet Kun Do.
You have found a skill book! Would you like to learn [Minimalist Martial Arts] now?
Yes.
There's a bright flash, and the book vanishes. Skidmark grunts. "Thought it would be brighter," he comments.
I'm a little distracted, though. New ideas about fighting have found their way into my brain, the concept of doing only what needs to be done to win. The meanings of victory, and a punch is just a punch.
"This..." I'm at a loss for words, until I look at Skidmark and decide to borrow his. "This is fucking sweet."
Menu. Skills.
Spoiler
SKILLS
Basic Parkour level 2 (91%)
You can navigate obstacles without breaking stride. 10% improved footing while moving at a run, +4 effective AGI when avoiding obstacles at a run.
Basic Unarmed Combat level 7 (26%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +21% attack speed, +33% unarmed attack damage.
Computer Programming Level 1 (0%)
You understand how to construct algorithms for computer programs, and possess knowledge of C++ and Java. +5% speed and +2 effective INT when programming computers.
Minimalist Martial Arts level 1 (0%)
By adopting the goals and thinking of "take away everything you do not need and what remains will be simple, effective, and elegant," you have taken a simplistic approach to hand to hand combat. +2% to attack speed, +5% to melee damage, +3% dodge, parry, and block. Stacks with compatible combat skills (no current conflicts).
Running level 18(92.8%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 180% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 28 mph
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Crafts
(Cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.
I smile. So I get both bonuses from Basic Unarmed Combat and Minimalist Martial Arts? That's really cool. It...
Wait. The fuck is up with running? When I was looking at it this morning in the railyard, my top speed was only 22.4 miles per hour.
SKILLS
Running level 18 (92.8%)
Running is a terrain dependant skill influenced by the surface you are running on. Surfaces of different textures, resistances, and traction will affect how quickly you can move across them.
Current conditions: flat, firm, medium traction surface (-0%).
Oh.
Skidmark clears his throat. "So. How's it looking?"
I jump. I'd forgotten what I was doing. Right. Skills. "Uh, it'll be great once I can get some practice in."
He nods. "Alright. The speed reading next. Then you're gonna practice that shit on the local newspapers and give me the condensed version on everything that's going on."
"Wait. Just two of them?" I ask.
"Yeah, just two of them to-fucking-day, cumstain," he snaps. "Use your fucking brain. You practice the shit you learn and get better at it, right? Then you practice at that shit before you start adding in new fucking things. You're not useful to me or yourself if you know a million things and can barely do any of them."
"Oh. Okay." He makes it sound pretty simple.
"After that, you're gonna be practicing fighting against the group, but with a new restriction: you can't hit them. You're too strong- you hurt them, you're done practicing with them till they heal, and we don't have a lot of guys I trust not to open their fucking mouths. If you hurt a guy, you lose. Plus, I'll come in there and kick you in the balls. So don't fucking injure these guys, got it?"
I start to protest, but then stop myself. It makes sense. They can't actually hurt me, so I should make sure I'm not hurting them, right? Since it's just practice and all. "Alright. Understood."
"Good. Now I've got shit to do. Get to it, I'll be back in a couple hours."
"What if I'm done with the papers before you get back?" I ask.
"Then start using your speed reading on the books you can't learn instantly, dumbass!" He shouts over his shoulder, slamming the door behind him.
... I guess I have my instructions.
You have found a skill book! Would you like to learn [Speed Reading] now?
Yes.
The flash of light happens, and I pick up the Brockton Times and begin to read.
Spoiler
Level 5(89.7%)
HP: 580/580
MP: 60/60
STRENGTH: 33
AGILITY: 20
VITALITY: 47
INTELLIGENCE: 8
WISDOM: 4
CHARISMA: 3
LUCK: 1
Unused Stat Points: 0
CONDITIONS:
The Bum
Regenerator
Fast Regenerator
PERKS:
The Bum: You are hardy, or at least, you're used to sucking it up when times are shitty. Because they always are.
+2 VIT, 55% chance to ignore effects of spoiled food and bad water.
Regenerator: You heal stupidly fast. You recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every thirty seconds. +2 to VIT.
Opens Regeneration Perk tree.
Fast Regenerator: You heal even faster. You now recover hp at a rate equal to your VIT every twenty seconds instead of every thirty seconds. +2 VIT.
ABILITIES
Observe level 3 (95.2%) Active
You can gain valuable information about people and things just by looking. The amount of information gained is determined by the target's level (if any) and the level of Observe.
Resist Damage level 10 (20.3%) Passive
You are tough, harder to injure than most.
All damage taken is reduced by 16.5%.
Mitigation -Passive
Through mutilations both self inflicted and otherwise, you've gained a level of immunity to various types of damage. Mitigation is counted after damage reduction.
Corrosive: level 1 (34%)
-2 to all corrosive damage.
Crushing: level 6 (84%)
-12 to all crushing damage.
Heat: level 1 (15%)
-2 to all heat damage
Piercing: level 9 (38%)
-18 to all piercing damage.
Slashing: level 5 (28%)
-10 to all slashing Damage.
Poison: level 1 (21%)
Reduce the effects of intoxication and poison by 2%.
Electricity: level 1 (22%)
-2 to all electricity damage.
SKILLS
Basic Parkour level 8 (91%)
You can navigate obstacles without breaking stride. 40% improved footing while moving at a run, +16 effective AGI when avoiding obstacles at a run.
Basic Unarmed Combat level 10 (61.5%)
You understand the basics of hand to hand combat, and how to apply them. +30% attack speed, +50% unarmed attack damage.
Computer Programming Level 1 (0%)
You understand how to construct algorithms for computer programs, and possess knowledge of C++ and Java. +5% speed and +2 effective INT when programming computers.
Minimalist Martial Arts level 6 (8.0%)
By adopting the goals and thinking of "take away everything you do not need and what remains will be simple, effective, and elegant," you have taken a simplistic approach to hand to hand combat. +12% to attack speed, +30% to melee damage, +18% dodge, parry, and block.
Running level 18(92.8%)
You know how to move quickly, whether endurance jogging or fast sprinting. 180% increase to running speed. Current top speed: 28 mph
Speed Reading level 9 (4%)
You read faster and more effectively. Increases reading speed by 225% and retention by 90%.
Stealth level 1 (11%) Active
You can go unseen and unheard.
10% reduced chance to be seen or heard when trying to conceal your presence. This bonus is tripled when at least 50% cover is available.
Crafts
(Cooking) level 1 (12%)
You can prepare food. Improves the quality of taste and nutrition for self-prepared food by 2%.