"And it all unraaavels…"
Singing has levelled up!
The band trailed off behind me as the crowd went wild with the thermobaric force of dozens of squealing children. A sea of cheering families, the waves of their enjoyment crashing over me and eroding the calcified worry buried in my heart. It was this feeling of excitement, of security, that I reflected back at them magnified through my powers. Acting, Voice acting, Singing, Charisma empowerment, Sound generation, Ventriloquism. All of it moulded together and thrown into the resonating crowd.
"Thank you all so much for coming here tonight! Times like these affect us all, and that's why it's more important than ever to stick together. Some people don't like that, but it's not up to them, it's up to us. All of us!" I made an encompassing gesture and held up a fist. "Brockton together strong!"
I paused for dramatic effect and the crowd erupted, cheering, hollering and stamping their picnic blankets; some even shouting, 'Brockton together strong!' back to me.
"Brockton together strong!" I bellowed back to them. "It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it! And now what we're all here for, we've got a great new Aleph import movie for you all! 'Harry Potter and the Celedfwlch Conspiracy', I've never seen it either so I'll be sure to enjoy it along with you. Have a fantastic evening, and enjoy the movie!"
I bowed and moved over to the band, quickly inventorying all the heavier equipment, then exited stage left while waving with both hands to more cheers.
+1 CHA!
I was walking on air, steps light and breezy. I just wanted to entertain. That was my great purpose in life. Oh gosh, I was on so many endorphins right now; come to me, Dopamine, Serotonin! I floated down the steps leading down from the little raised stage in front of the big projector screen, and around the back to the band's van. I gently placed the drum kit and amplifiers onto the mats laid out on the grass.
"Hey, thanks kid," Dale, the bands' guitarist slash manager said.
I smiled. "Thank you guys, too! We nailed it, I'll make sure if we get another gig like this to get you first on the list of people we hire."
"No problem," he shook my hand. "Easiest gig we ever played at. Great vibes, man, great vibes. We'd love to play with you again."
"I'm sure I can get something on, and I'll try and give you more notice this time, too. I tried to make it easy, but you only had like two days to learn the song."
"Ah," Dale waved a hand. "It was only one song."
"Anyway," I shook the other band members hands. "I have to get back to my seat for the movie, you guys have a great night."
"No problems there, Dark Smoke Puncher. It's a Saturday night and we're in a band, we'll find a way," he winked cheekily.
I cackled, clicking them finger guns. "Don't go too crazy, seeyas later!"
We waved and departed. I made my way back around the screen to the row of six chairs up along the left side of the main watching area set aside for us Wards. It was far enough away from the crowd that we could speak without being overheard but close enough to the screen so that we could still enjoy the movie. I did a half-lap down the edge of the crowd, laying down some sick high fives to deserving toddlers, before looping back up to my seat next to the Vista clone.
A single hair-thin strand of mana latched onto the clone as I sat to its right, giving me back direct control.
"That was an amazing job, Dark Smoke Puncher," I said, throwing my Missy impersonation into the Vista clone's mouth. "I'm going to tell Piggot to give you a raise."
"You're too kind, Vista."
Dennis, who was sitting next to me, burst into muffled sniggers. "You can damn well sing, though. I remember when you used to sound like that nerd out of The Simpsons."
"I did a lot of practice," I said, a little shortly. "And the effort paid off."
"What're they PRT paying you for it?" he asked. "I know you had that one other song."
"I get royalties when they're released and sold, which should be a shitload of money eventually. Plus all the royalties from the other merch that goes with it," I forced a chuckle. "They're even going to make poseable Dark Smoke Puncher figurines."
And that shitbird SupaGokuFiyah was going to desecrate them, I just knew. He still had it out for me for some reason, spewing his filth all over my favourite waifus. I swear he was doing it on purpose, it seemed like every time I said I liked a character he as there with her Figma, and as Void Cowboy I had spent a lot of time talking up Dark Smoke Puncher.
Like, a lot of time.
"They tell everyone they're going to get figurines, but I don't think anyone but Vista got any. There was that metal guy in Boston-"
"Weld."
"Yeah, him," Dennis continued. "And like, Miss Militia did when she was in the Wards, but it barely happens unless you're senior Protectorate."
"Three years isn't long, I can wait that much for sweet merch. Dark Smoke Puncher the T-Shirt, Dark Smoke Puncher the colouring book, Dark Smoke Puncher the lunch box, Dark Smoke Puncher the breakfast cereal and, Dark Smoke Puncher the nun-chucks."
"Pfft, best I ever got was a limited series of wristwatches for, like, collectors or something," he shrugged. "I don't even know if the royalties were enough for me to notice. Or even if I got any…"
I shrugged back at him as the movie started. Bet's version of the movie was Prisoner of Azkaban, and apparently, this one contained several key similarities. The fugitive godfather, Rigel, the rat friend who betrays him, Petyr, and the Dementors. Though for some reason at the end of this one Voldemort was back and trying to get his hands on the scabbard of Excalibur which would restore him to life; a shameless rehash of Philosopher's Stone. I'd spoiled myself on it beforehand completely on accident coming across a thread on one of my imageboards, but the movie didn't sound that good anyway so I wasn't too fussed.
"Hey," whispered Dennis, nudging me with an elbow. "Time to do the thing."
"Ok, just," I leaned over, putting a fingertip to his shoulder and disconnecting from the Vista clone. "On the count of three, stand up. It won't last long so make sure you're out of sight. One."
I pulled a chunk of mana from the well within me, shaping it with the familiar pattern of Chameleon Skin. Before the spell could crystalise and cover me I reversed the feeling of the targeting, pushing it outward.
"Two."
Other Greg wrapped another piece of magic around and around, preparing it for solid form.
"Three."
Dennis stood up, the cloaking spell covering him from back to front as the clone formed underneath him, bumping his legs and causing him to stumble like a dweeb. Luckily for him, he was invisible. The timing was a little off, but I'd never practised that move so I could forgive myself.
The borderline invisible skin of mana covering Dennis moved in front of me. Even I couldn't see it, but I could feel exactly where it was.
"Thanks, Greg, this is fucking trippy though. I feel like I'm going to trip over my own feet," the mana wobbled unsteadily on its feet. "See you guys tomorrow!"
Dennis beelined away, half tripping with every other step as he adjusted to being unable to see any of his limbs. I connected my wires back to the two clones, making them fidget a little as I got used to the controls.
I settled back in my chair and focused on the movie.
The start was very much the same as our version in terms of basic overview, though Uncle Vernon's sister had brought cages of cats with her and wore pastels. She was likely a proto-Umbridge used early.
I started fiddling with the new armour on my gloves, picking at the decorative rivets. Armsmaster had done a fantastic job in taking my look from LARPing ninja to tacticool shinobi without making me look cringe, despite the designs I'd sent him ripping off a half dozen design concepts from various obscure manga. It was a complimentary contrast, I thought, to Savannah's flight suit which was modelled after the sleek lines of a stealth fighter jet and plated in the red and gold homage to Hero most new Protectorate heroes favoured. We'd make a great promotional poster picture together.
I realised I'd sort of zoned out on the movie, probably because it wasn't very interesting. In the interest of avoiding candid shots of me ignoring the movie I'd just claimed to be very interested in watching, I put on a Disguise of me staring at the big screen before equipping my phone.
Greg: hey cutie ;) what's goin on?
Greg: I'm stuck watching a movie at a publicity event
I glanced between the dragging first act of the movie and my phone for a few minutes before she responded.
Savannah: Muscle Boi.
Savannah: I'm recalibrating my flight stabilizers again. I have no idea why they can't stay fixed where I put them to. It's a good thing I love doing this or I imagien it would be odiously tedious. What movie?
Greg: aleph harry potter 3, it's worse than the bet version
Greg: being tinker is suffering, i don't think i'll ever develop that part of my powers
Savannah: Imagine*
Savannah: The suffering is rewarding, I think. There's always something to do, always something to improve, always new avenues of methodology to explore. Isn't it the same with you?
Greg: yeah, it is. I think we have a lot of the same struggles in that regard, every new thing we make needs attention and fine-tuning if we want it to be useful in the long run. But that takes time and effort, which leads us down the road of workaholism to be useful. At least my powers don't need constant upkeep, I can't imagine how frustrating it would be if they degraded like tinkertech. Having to watch my percentages tick down and devote my time to only a select core of powers; maddening. I'm really lucky.
Savannah: True, that, lol. There's really no combating the workahol, I can't think of a single successful tinker who has a social life. If you want friends you have to settle for mediocrity.
Greg: It sounds really bad when you put it like that, but you might be right. A friend, but not friends, and they have to get that you need to spend all those hours with your work and not them
Savannah: I know, right. It's good that Alvita is here, even though we only hang out once a week and talk about work
Greg: Yeah, I think my only real friend I see is Panacea, and that was mostly just working at the hospital together which they're going to let me start doing again soon! They decided that the whole Nazi assassination thing has blown over. I'm going to ask if I can go back to school even, academically pointless though it may be, but not my old one that place is a hole
Savannah: Brockton is so weird
Savannah: brb tinkering
I realised my face had been split into a big ol' dumb grin the whole time. I wriggled in my seat, biting back a tittering giggle. I was now completely, entirely, one hundred per cent sure she liked me back. For the first time in my entire life, a girl actually liked me back. Me, Greg Veder. Nerd sperglord supreme no longer, I had moulted that facet of my personality like a graceful spider and was now free to feel the good vibes with my sensitive leg hair.
Greg: No problem, enjoy yourself ;)
I was Greg Veder. I had real friends and a girl who liked me.
In the end, I think that was all I ever really wanted.
Something tapped on my shoulder. I looked over to see Carlos stretching over the Dennis clone and tapping me on the shoulder. He tapped again, then again. Oh, right.
I dropped my Disguise and he flinched slightly, mouthed 'whatever', then whispered, "I'm bored as hell, can you get me out of here too?"
I grinned sunnily. "Of course, get ready."
I dropped control of my clones and reached in for my magic, working it as I had done for Dennis. The transition went a little smoother, Carlos floating up out of his chair and circling back around to hover behind me.
"Thanks a million, Greg, I owe you one."
"No problems, my dude," I looked over my shoulder at the ever so slight shimmer in the air he had become. "Don't even trip."
He clapped me on the shoulder and flew off into the night.
It was a good night, too. Clear and wholesome, with young families enjoying Harry Potter and I, Greg, had friends and a girl who was into me.
Oh, the changes seven months could bring. I remembered, I remembered perfectly. From weirding out the agent who escorted me to meet Armsmaster for the first time to my god awful attempt at dating Sophia to my brief attempts at killing Amy's monsters that neither of us enjoyed, now, finally, to here on this day. The scene played out in my mind.
The corpse of Old Greg was truly lifeless now, a withered thing in a stained, faded Idolmaster t-shirt. Skin greying and eyes sunken, mummified in my mind. He was dead, but not forgotten. The shed where he lived lay in ashes around him, all the trophies and inanities he coveted burned with him. If you looked closely, the pattern of wrinkling on his skin resembled a bulge I shamefully recognised, the last remnant of his insipid life.
I took to a shovel, working it into the dirt with slow solemnity. It was over and now it was time to tidy up. The grave I dug was shallow and unmarked, and it was here I would finally bury him, put him away where I would never need to see him again. I moved back over to him, half expecting him to make a last feeble attempt at explaining what a Mary Sue was, but he was silent and still. I grabbed him by the shrunken ankle, just above his velcro sneaker, and hauled him to the grave, casting him-
A gunshot.
I startled back into awareness, looking around as a visible wave of fear and confusion washed over the crowd of families.
Another shot echoed faintly over the park.
I dispelled the clones, leaping to my feet. Chris and Dean were both frozen in their seats for a split second before galvanising to action as the families started screaming. The screaming sounded as if it were coming from underwater, my ears felt plugged and my voice choked. I turned to Dean to ask what-
This is ours.
I turned to Dean to tell him what we should do.
"I need you and Kid Win to both guide the families after I calm them down," I spoke, forcing all the command I could copy from Armsmaster into my tone and posture as I could. "I'll make a path, and I'll need you to lead them."
"Kid Win," I turned to him, feeling a charlatan as the gunshots grew louder. "I need you to be bright and loud, you're going to take point and be their focus."
I put a hand to each of their shoulders. "We've got this."
There wasn't time to hear their replies, I had to save everyone.
I turned on a dime, taking off at a sprint, landing on the stage in two steps. I told Chris bright and loud, but I'd have to lead by example.
I lit up in a brilliant flash, light spell boosted as high as I could.
{Dark Smoke Pun-Cha!}
The guitar riff rolled over the crowd, smothering their panicked screaming enough for me to take a deep, deep breath.
"I'm going to make a path!" I bellowed, forcing my voice out over the families in an attempt to drown out Harry Potter. "This is Brockton, we can handle this! Follow Gallant and Kid Win!"
I brought both hands up, wire fine smoke billowing out past them, expanding out into gentle green walls that led out of the park opposite the growing firefight. There were a few fewer screams.
"Please follow Gallant and Kid Win! We'll get you to safety, that's my Dark Smoke Promise!"
Then, in a trampling herd, the families obeyed; allowing themselves to be shepherded into the smoke walled path by Gallant and then to follow Kid Win who emitted a siren and whirled with red and blue lights atop his hover-board.
I backflipped up, landing on a support strut for the screen, and looked over my shoulder at the flashes of gunfire that grew closer still.
Shit. Fuck. God damn shit fuck! Fucking cunt wanker shit fucker!
"You're doing great!" I shouted, to myself.
Oh god, why?
A figure burst out of the tree cover behind me, fleeing the guns. They sprinted, superhumanly fast, the Mad Max cage of metal around their head glinting in the movie's backlight.
No. No, no, no, no.
No.
She slowed, jogging into a confident strut right up to underneath me, cast in an eerie half-light under the dusk.
"I thought that was you up there," Cricket raised one of her Kamas at me, the other hand pressed to her throat. "Little Rat Boy."
