New quest 'Inter-City Throw-down!'

It's time for the big showdown everyone's been waiting for, make sure you win!

Success: Increased reputation with [Everyone], 40 000xp

"Trumpets," said Hunch. "Trumpets and bookmarks."

We nodded and stroked our chins knowingly, trumpets was a decent read from Hunch's power and the addition of bookmarks tipped it increasingly positive. Personally, I wasn't sure how accurate it was ever since we figured out that at the very least Dez's precog got increasingly wrong when I started creating spells on the fly until it finally adjusted.

"Team," Weld held out his hand palm down. "We've got this."

In turn, we piled our hands atop his, our spirits welded together by the torch of friendship and glory.

I licked my lips nervously as the lights reflected off of everyone's masks, polished to a mirror sheen. I hadn't slept well last night, tossing and turning over my wretched discovery, not getting enough to even get my Healthy buff and I missed it terribly. I'd almost forgotten the enormous difference it made on my general mood to not start the day in perfect health, it was one more thing I no longer envied about past Greg; he may have been happier but he was an oblivious, ignorant retard.

I was so much better than him.

"Boston gang!" he barked, raising his hand high from under the pile in a fist.

"Boston gang!" I croaked raising my own fist, voice drowned out by the louder cries of my team. We lowered our fists and I equipped my Anypole, the form flowing into a sleek, solid steel, intricately crafted long-bladed spear. It glinted dully as I gave it a test swing, my enhanced strength easily carrying it in smooth, easy circles.

I noticed Weld's eyes on me and I reluctantly met them, giving him a small nod. Last night, after the team huddle, he'd taken me aside and asked if this was going to be a repeat of the other training situation, and then asked if it could be if we were going to lose. I didn't want to lose, but I'd promised to wait until the last minute before I unleashed the beast to give everybody a chance to try their hardest.

We lined up on one side of the spacious padded room, mirrored by the Lancers, missing only Daisy as the sole true non-combatant. Even Hunch was having a go, despite that he was usually mission command his cauldron vial mutations made him hardy and strong.

"You're all ready?!" Nitroman called out from the sidelines because apparently we needed adult supervision to beat the shit out of each other. "Start in five! Four! Three! Two! One! Go!"

You have created the spell 'Mana Infusion'!

Mana Infusion added to Basic Spellcraft!

Mana poured into my spear, binding to it with a blue glow. I let go, the spear floating up in front of me, and split my mind having the second track control it. I figured it would be a decent enough challenge to fight using only an ability I had literally never trained and a spell I had only just created.

I stalked toward my first opponent.

"I've got muh whackin' stick, bitch, you reddy to get smacked?" I hollered at Basilisk, who cast his hat aside dramatically, then dodged a scorching blue beam from Jetstar. I turned to see her rocketing toward me like a particularly ostentatious missile. I gathered myself and swung into the air, managing to bounce off her back as she passed under me only to get singed by her boot thrusters.

I span on a dime, turning to face them just in time to see Basilisk grab her outstretched hand and slingshot her around back at me. My spear whipped out, causing her to veer off to the side giving me a gap to rush Basilisk who met me with a long, clawed kick.

I elbow blocked into his ankle and shifted low for my spear to fly over my head and drive him back with a series of feinting thrusts. He turned a stumble into a tail whip, opening up a thin cut on my cheek that burned like I'd been branded.

I pressed my hand to my face, pushing back against the stinging pain, and pulled it away bloody.

"Shit, sorry!"

"S'fine," I grit my teeth. "Just wasn't expecting it. We're good."

Basilisk made a face that might have been a contrite smile, but it was hard to tell as he didn't have lips or skin that wrinkled or remotely human facial features.

I jumped toward him, aiming a big telegraphed kick at his head, then bounced off the air in a double jump right over his head. His surprised gaze followed me right up until the butt end of my spear rammed into his back. A blast from Jetstar clipped my leg as I landed -focus, Greg!- and I back-flipped away, double-jumping again over another blast.

My spear spun like a buzz saw as I circled them at a run, harrying Jetstar as I closed back in on Basilisk.

I dodged, bobbed, weaved, dipped, dived and dodged his ceaseless attacks. He was actually almost as good as me, in pure skill and reflexes, but lacking the myriad powers that put me in my own weight class.

"Can't you fight without your little stick?" he hissed, taking a step back, eyes narrowed in focus. "Because this isn't going to tire me out."

I figured it would be rude to say that I was purposefully holding back and that I could take his whole team at once, but, it was also true.

"I promised Weld I wouldn't."

Basilisk paused. "Dude, what?"

"This is a team effort, Weld made me promise," I said apologetically, shrugging, pointing at Jetstar who had been prevented from using her air supremacy to dominate the battle by Tyrone who had blanketed the area in an illusion to achieve this very effect. "I have to let everyone have a go first."

Basilisk scoffed and tried to sucker-punch me with a lightning-quick jab, following it up with a roundhouse kick and a whirling tail strike. I dodged back, and then to the side, flowing smoothly around his attacks.

Jetstar had apparently given up fighting me as a bad job and was zooming over to the other side of the room where Jouster was keeping Weld hemmed in with ineffectual elemental charges from his lance. I recalled my spear, having it skim near the ground and collect Basilisks feet out from under him with the haft. Basilisk, in a truly impressive feat of agility, twisted in mid-air to land on all fours and in the same movement leapt at me in a big bounding jump.

He took me off my feet as I gasped in surprise at the speed of his jump, and we landed in a scrabbling tangle, each trying to muscle the other into submission. I guided my spear to grind its butt into his armpit, and as he twisted to get away from the annoying pain I put my right hand onto his right shoulder, grabbed his same wrist with my left, and pulled him close into a shoulder lock, mushing his face into the padded floor. He struggled, but I was stronger, and between that and my spear floating menacingly near his head he tapped out.

I let go and we flopped apart, breathing heavily.

"Good match," Basilisk said stolidly, lizard tongue playing over his peg-like teeth. "Sorry again about your cheek."

I put my hand to it again, probing the slice, and found that it was barely bleeding. I shook my head and smiled, getting to my feet, "it'll heal up in a few minutes, don't worry."

I held out a hand and pulled Basilisk to his feet, "it was a good match, you're crazy fast."

He exhaled loudly through his nose, "you said you weren't trying."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," I let go of his hand, still smiling. "You're still fast."

He grumbled and sloped off to the side of the room- there was a popping whoosh and I stumbled to my knees, back aflame with pain. I crawled to my feet, vision grey and blurred as Hans clawed his face in agony on the ground-

"-u okay?"

My ears whined with a tinnitus buzz as I whipped my head from side to side, searching desperately for that Nazi fuck.

"-meant to be the lowest setting, are you okay?" Jetstar floated around into view, gauntlets twisting over each other in front of her.

I scrabbled a hand over my back, searching for the knife but finding only neat, undamaged uniform. The burning pain of my Arc Flash vanishing as quickly as it arrived, fading back into the grubby little corner of my mind from whence it came.

"Yes, fine," I grimaced a plastic smile. "Thank you for shooting me in the back."

"You should pay more attention," her arms crossed over her breastplate, obscuring the glowing orb in the centre.

I could feel the thin string of my patience fraying. I growled, my spear leaping back into my right hand even as wire-fine threads spooled from my left, creeping through the air and gently wrapping around Jetstar.

She suddenly accelerated up, almost taking all my fingers off as I squeezed them into a fist and let myself be dragged along after her. I pulled hard on the mana strings, my Grace making the motion of wrenching myself closer almost effortless, the extended reach of my spear letting me whack her across the helmet hard enough to make her wobble. Jetstar dove suddenly, the ground coming up to meet us at a frightening pace.

I dissolved the wires as she burst sideways at an almost right angle, landing heavily, but safely, where she expected to whip me into the floor.

I was suddenly struck by a disorienting moment of clarity; how fucked was it that I could hit her with a spear, or she could try pile-drive me headfirst into the floor, and it was considered OK.

A headache started throbbing in my left temple. I was going to have to break my promise, sorry Weld, but Jetstar was just too god damn aggravating.

I inventoried my spear, cast Cuttlefish Skin, and vanished from view.

Jetstar immediately zoomed backwards, firing her repulsor beams wildly, but not fast enough. I charged, leapt, and grappled her in a bear-hug. We fell as I encased her in a solid shell of mana and I landed us as gently as I could, feeling her struggle futilely against her restraints, trying to burn through them with her boot thrusters. I clenched my fists as the urge to punch her as hard as I could while she was down surged to the forefront of my mind, but I picked her up and heaved her atop my shoulders like a big blue sushi roll, jogging over to where Basilisk, Hunch, Valerie and Fred sat in the losers' corner. I balanced the Jetstar sushi against the wall and dissolved the mana shell, where she wilted into a sullen pile.

"We're gettin' our asses kicked, huh?" I asked Fred.

"Just go win for us, dude," he said tiredly, rubbing at a swelling wrist.

I nodded, sighing heavily and jogged back toward the action. Roulette was sparring fiercely with Flechette, and both looked like they were in Flow state so I figured I should let them be. Tyrone and Shaman were nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected as Tyrone's whole job was to disorient the enemy and deprive Jetstar and Shaman of their air superiority.

Weld was now getting double teamed by Bangarang and Jouster while Norman ineffectually chased around Noodle, it was like bullying. Were they bullying Weld?

Bangarang would skate across the ground like a writhing octopus and hit Weld from a blind spot, bouncing him away with a big bass reverberation into the path of Jouster who would jet forward and lance Weld with a crackle of lightning, flame or ice. None of it was doing any damage, but still.

I let off a bright flash and loud crack, drawing all attention in the room. I raised an arm, slowly, pointing at Jouster and Bangarang.

"Which one of you bitches wants to dance?"

They stopped, Bangarang turning to Jouster. "Well, it has to be me, right? You took out Bassy and Jet, no way I'm gonna not getting a piece of that shit."

Jouster cocked his head and paused, glancing to Weld and then back to me. "Yeah. Go for it."

"Thanks, chief!" Bangarang cracked her knuckled theatrically, failing to produce any actual cracks, then jumped forward into a power-slide that took her a full three meters. She popped to her feet and swaggered toward me. "So you really are some kinda super Trump, huh?"

"Yes," I said.

The acknowledgement was nice, but my headache was getting worse. My skin crawled, I was itching to hurt someone, to hit them like I had Armsmaster. Unrestrained and without hesitation. Actually, maybe I just wanted to hit Armsmaster again.

I took a deep shuddering breath, then exhaled every last molecule of air in my lungs. I should just leave, who cared if I was some kinda super Trump? Lily wasn't into me, I was scared of my own reflection and the power mafia was going to come knocking any day now. I should go see Sveta, I should go see Amy, I should go see mum and dad and I should go apologise to Taylor.

Bangarang started saying something else but I wasn't paying attention. I looked at Weld, so shiny and chrome, watching me with folded arms.

"Sorry, bro, but I want to get this done, do you mind?"

Then he unfolded his arms, his expression unfolding into something tender. He took a step and started walking toward me. I stood rooted to the spot, what was he doing?

"Greg," he said softly, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok?"

I glanced down at my shaking, clenched fists. Ah, my acting skill control had slipped.

"I think I'm going to hurt someone," I whispered. "Can I go sit down for a bit?"

His grip tightened on my shoulder and he nodded. "Of course, of course. Anything you feel you need to, do."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"It's ok."

"Sorry," I said again.

"It's alright."