Let's Play a Game – Chapter 8

The morning passed by in a haze of surreality.

After finding out I had…abs and other muscles…I freaked out a little. Sure, Gamer's Mind in theory lets me tackle high emotional situations without too much trouble, but the shock and awe were still there in their own muted way.

I looked over myself in the mirror, the heat of a blush on my cheeks.

The muscles added definition to my skin-and-bone frame and gave my form an athletic allure.

…I wouldn't go so far as to say having muscles made me hot, but it did make me a deal more attractive.

Beyond my hair, I wasn't very confident on how I looked. Now though…I could feel that same pitiful confidence about myself start to grow.

I really like how I look in the mirror right now.

This wasn't just a cosmetic boost either; it actually came with practical benefits. How strong was I now? If I punched someone before, I know they'd probably laugh me off, but now? How much damage could I do?

This was after only one day of seriously working on my Strength too.

How much stronger could I possibly get?

I smiled as I thought of the possibilities.

Then my fears about hiding my powers reared their heads, and my smile morphed into an expression of dread.

If I looked this much different, there was no way I could hide it. Even with baggy clothing, it wouldn't take much for someone to tell something was different about me.

Normal people don't get six-packs from a week's worth of exercise after an extended hospital stay.

I got a set after a single day's worth.

If anyone saw my muscles, they'd know I was a cape. Not even steroids are that good, and the tinker-stuff is way beyond what a high school student could afford.

I briefly considered I might be forced to have that "talk" with Dad today…

…It probably says something about me that I'm more scared of talking to Dad about myself then I am on the possibility of punching bad guys in the face.

I am not self-reflecting on that can of worms right now.

Luckily I had the whole "skin" thing, so I when I actually remembered I had that, I equipped my…ugh…"beanpole" skin.

Like a dissipating dream, my fears and muscles went poof and I was scrawny once more.

…then I turned it off and watched my muscles pop back in.

Then I turned it back on.

…then off.

On.

Off.

On.

Off.

On.

I swapped back and forth in front of the mirror a few times in bewilderment. It was both fascinating and extremely disturbing to watch, like a spider catching and eating something in its web or a train crashing headlong into a car.

I just couldn't turn away from it or stop myself.

The "before" and "after" pictures in those TV advertised work-out regimens are nice to see side-by side, but seeing someone instantly go from one to the other and back again was sick and wrong, especially when that someone was yourself.

Having muscles was nice. Seeing them melt away into chubby fat and that same fat solidify back into muscles with the push of a button was kind of horrifying.

If I focused a bit I think I could even feel it. Eugh.

Literally, my six-pack has an off-switch. The six-pack I gained overnight. The six-pack I'll hardly ever get to actually see or feel.

With a single thought my disgust turned to disappointment.

Intellectually, I understand that if I want to wait to tell Dad about my powers during the weekend when we have the…talk, I'll need to hide my…physical changes, and I'll have to keep hiding them in public for the foreseeable future.

…but on the other hand…I like having muscles.

…and knowing that I have to hide them now because it'll make it way too obvious I have powers irritates the crap out of me.

I sighed in defeat.

At least, paradoxically enough, while my muscles have to go away right now for the sake of secrecy, I still get to keep my newfound strength.

Not like I've had much of a chance to use it per say, but it'll come up sooner or later I'm sure.

After my shower, I took command of the kitchen, and started to fix not only breakfast and lunch for myself and Dad, but also some snickerdoodles.

Because even if I don't need to eat anymore, snickerdoodles are awesome...

I saw we had the ingredients and decided to make some on the sound reasoning of "why not?"

…and practically, if I lose a lot of health, food is the quickest way for me to regain it that doesn't require me to sleep. Fifteen HP per cookie wasn't too shabby, and I could bake them in relatively big batches for little cost.

By the time everything was finished, and the myriad food-stuff was either waiting to go on a plate or in a bag, Dad made his way downstairs.

I also gained two more levels in cooking for my work, and completed another quest. I was over halfway to level three.

When Dad made it to the kitchen, he spent half a minute staring incredulously between me and the food.

I followed his gaze towards all the food I made, all thirteen individual dishes of it.

…I guess I did go overboard a little, and maybe it was a bit daft of me to make both pancakes and waffles…

Despite the confused looks he gave me, breakfast was a quick, quiet, and happy affair. He didn't ask, and I was grateful for it. He also really liked the food, so that could be a part of why…

We didn't say anything of substance really, but we did enjoy each other's presence more so then we had in the past.

Before long, my Dad was out the door, and I had the house to myself. I took the time to do a short clean-up, and stuffed about half of the left-overs in my inventory…and all of the cookies.

Today, I was going to take care of a few things out of the house, and I wanted to be sure I had something on hand that could heal me in case of an emergency.

"Map."

The box materializes in front of me, and I stare at the quest markers.

Two were at Winslow, so that should be Emma and Hess. Another was at the Topher Law Firm, the one Mr. Barnes worked at, and the last one was at the Barnes' home.

I took a deep breath. While Emma was stuck at school…I could talk to both of her parents, and maybe even find a journal or something if Mrs. Barnes lets me in.

Being able to think about the situation at all without everything being shaded through a lens of depression and hurt was miraculous.

Why did I never think of talking to the rest of her family about her before? Sure, I doubt Emma would share her bullying exploits with them, and I kind of know if it ever came to light, Mr. Barnes would likely do anything to help Emma, even if it were to her own detriment, but that didn't mean he would automatically be against telling me what happened to her to make her this way if I asked nicely.

…I just needed to make sure I didn't set him off on lawyer mode.

Before I went to see him though, I had to take care of just a few things first.

I had a few different outfits from my closet in my inventory, so with the tap of a few fingers, I was fully dressed for a cold winter's day in Brockton Bay.

With that done, I made sure my key was in my inventory, locked the house, and left towards Mercy Northwest, the hospital I was sent to after the locker.

Rather than take the bus, I decided to run the whole way. It was farther up north than Winslow, but it wasn't a long distance per say. At most, it would take me an hour to get there.

My powers are definitely turning me into a fitness nut.

Then again, there's the whole six-pack overnight thing. If everyone could have those kinds of results, I'm pretty sure everyone would be a bit more focused on health.

I tried going back and forth between a full out sprint and a calm jog, keeping my eyes on my stamina as I went. Sprinting ate into my stamina, but it would regenerate if I simply jogged. After a few tries, I was firmly in a good rhythm of switching between the two, keeping a stable stamina the whole way.

I was a bit nervous at first having one of my screens up, but everyone I'd pass didn't notice it. I did get a few odd looks here and there, but that was probably for not being in school.

Around fifteen minutes into my journey, a blue box popped into my face.

A skill has been created through a special action.

Through practicing the use of legs for fast locomotion, a skill to run as fast as you can, "Sprint", has been created!

[Sprint (active) Lv1 EXP: 00.00%]
A skill using economy of movement to
move as fast as the legs can carry.
With more mastery, the less Stamina
is required and the user can run faster.
Speed increases with higher Dexterity.
Current Top Speed: 17 MPH
SP Cost: 50 per minute

Huh, neat.

I'd only be able to "sprint" for seven minutes, so if I sprint for five and jog for roughly seventeen minutes, I'd spend and regain my stamina at a rate that wouldn't end up with me fatigued…

…but, is seventeen miles per hour sustained for five minutes super-human? Would I out myself?

It's not exactly flashy…but what if someone does the math? What if someone who knows me from Winslow sees me?

Well, I just have to make it so they don't recognize me, right?

Hello six-pack me! Mommy missed you!

At this point, I was outside of my residential area and closer to a few local businesses. A few alleyways were nearby. I could duck into them, turn my skin off, take my glasses off, and use my scarf to hide the lower part of my face while my hoodie was up.

…It wouldn't be a perfect disguise, but it should throw off anybody who knows me.

I wasn't currently in any gang territory, so the alleys should be safe…as long as I'm quick.

A few tense moments later, and I was sprinting towards the hospital, looking almost like another person.

I was even paranoid enough to switch into a different pair of pants and hoodie with my inventory. They were, while still technically baggy, slightly smaller too, so they showed off my form just a little bit. While it wasn't tight enough to show me off in definition, you could tell from the way they hugged onto me I was a bit thicker in my arms and legs where muscles were concerned.

…It was kind of exciting really.


Another idiosyncrasy of my powers came up. The difference between sprinting and "sprinting" was I had to actively use the word sprint in my head to "sprint" because it was an active skill. I could sprint without it, but I wouldn't actually be going as fast as I could with "sprint."

I felt a little silly about it, but it did make "sense" in gaming logic terms.

By the time I reached the hospital, I had gained two levels in sprint and even a level in vitality.

So what I learned today: I didn't have to actually run myself into a fatigue to raise vitality, I just had to expend a lot of stamina.

Running was looking like a good way to focus solely on vitality. I could even probably focus on another skill while sprint was active.

…Shit, I missed a perfect opportunity to observe stuff. Crap.

…I could have probably even shadow-boxed while I ran…

Ugh, I feel stupid.

Oh, well, I could start doing that later.

A quick dodge into a nearby alleyway and a few taps later, my muscle-less self walked inside Mercy Northwest.


An hour passed by in a most excruciating matter…

After learning a bit about HIPAA, proving I am Taylor Hebert, and filing paper-work for the release of a copy of my medical records, I find out that it'll possibly take up to thirty days for them to get a copy back to me.

I mean, I understand that a medical records department, especially in Brockton Bay, can be busy, but ugh.

Paper work is the worst, especially since I had no skill to make it go by faster with.

Oh sure, Dish Washing is a skill but Paper Work isn't…bleh.

I swear the hospital official I talked to seemed to take some perverse joy out of it when she told me that. I could see no other valid reason for her to be so peppy otherwise.

…Then again, she had red hair and reminded me of Emma, so it could just be natural bias.

Nah.

On the bright side, I used observe whenever I had to wait, and leveled it twice, but beyond that, it was boring and monotonous beyond belief.

I think I have an inkling as to why so many people hate the DMV now.

I don't know if the police department will be any better, but here's to hoping they are.

Another hop into an alley, and once I'm incognito, I sprint towards the local police sub-station.


I was half-way to the substation, my legs pumping me forward while my arms jabbed towards an invisible Sophia.

Shadow-boxing while full out sprinting wasn't working since the motion of my arms helped me keep balance. That didn't mean I couldn't box some while on a cool-down run. If I didn't go all out with my arms, I could even regenerate my stamina while I did it.

It didn't give me much experience towards unarmed combat when I held back, but it was a small price to pay for me working on multiple skills at a time. Observing everything I could while sprinting however was perfectly do-able.

I had already gained another level in Unarmed Combat Mastery, almost reached the next level in Observe, and I gained two more levels in Sprint…

That's when I ran into a problem...

Yeah, I need to work on my puns.

Sprint apparently ramps up quickly as I level it.

Now, I can run at twenty seven and a half miles per hour…

For over five minutes…without strain.

It may not be super obvious, but…if anyone thought about what I was doing for any length of time, they'd know I was probably a cape rather than some exercise enthusiast.

So, the next big item on the to-do list is to definitely find somewhere I can practice my skills in private away from home.

I'm really glad I have some sort of disguise going on, and that it was still the beginning of the work day. The few people I passed generally paid me no attention. I did get a whistle here and there, and one kid obnoxiously yelled "Run, Forest, run," but luckily no one pointed a phone at me to record a video.

I mean, it was fun, watching the buildings and feeling the air rush by. I even stopped and checked in a window's reflection here and there to make sure I wasn't recognizable. Even though I definitely wasn't, there was just this sense of worry that someone would find out that I had powers.

Given the gangs' attitude towards new capes and how they loved to recruit, it would be a disaster if anyone found out about me. If I got strong enough that I was desirable…but too weak to stop them?

The ABB would probably just sic Oni-Lee on me to slit my throat since I wasn't Asian. The E88…they'd try to forcibly make me another Nazi most likely. My family has mixed European heritage with mainly Italian and French leanings…so they'd rather torture me to obey them then outright kill me.

It was a sobering thought as much as it was unnerving.

Luckily, I was never anywhere near Merchant territory, what little of it there was, so the possibility of them forcing a needle in my arm to make me addicted to whatever crap they had was low. Even then, I would just sleep the drug off and Gamer's Mind might even no-sell the addiction. So, small silver lining, the Merchants would just be forced to kill me instead.

Hell of a silver lining that is.

Deep breaths, just take some deep breaths.

Training my skills right now was the best use of my time. If I don't get stronger fast enough, anyone of those possibilities could end up as my future if I go out as a hero. Then the PRT or BBPD would have to explain to Dad why they have my corpse…

Even if my powers treat my life as a game, it isn't. I need to be careful moving forward.

Slowly, I stopped "sprinting" and merely kept up with a normal run for the rest of the way. This early on, I couldn't afford to make a simple mistake. I'd worry about "sprint" when I actually had a costume or I could find someplace to do it outside of public view. I kept up with my other skills though, shadow-boxing and observing what I could as I went down the sidewalk.

At least I could go all out with my boxing now…

Before I reached an alleyway near the substation, I gained a level in both skills for my effort. A minute later, and I was out of my simple disguise and was ready to talk to some police officers.


After explaining why I currently wasn't in school, the officers at the substation were helpful in letting me know I was in the wrong place.

Due to convenience, Police Records have their own office near the PRT headquarters.

Downtown.

In the opposite direction I'd been running in all morning.

That's the building that handles public request for police information.

Not here. Even if they could hunt down the information and give me a copy, it simply wasn't their job and protocol meant the actual secretaries had to do it over there.

...Okay then, more time for me to grind skills.

If I run without my sprint power, it'll take me probably an hour and a half to run all the way there. If I do risk using my sprint, I'd be shaving off forty minutes…

Even if I took the fastest bus route, the time of day meant I'd be wasting more time at a bus stop than actively training a skill.

The choice was pretty obvious.

The good news is that the law firm I need to visit today is on the outskirts of downtown closet to my house, so I would be heading in that direction later anyways. Emma's house would be a bit more to the west, close to Captain's Hill, so even heading back; it wouldn't be too bad of a detour.

I could head there first, but…I'd rather take care of the paper work then…deal with that mess just yet.

Before I began my trek in that direction I did ask a few questions, which one of the officers was more than happy to answer me.

Since the investigation into the locker was concluded…without finding any culprit whatso-fucking-ever…a copy of the incident report should be available for me to request from public records.

Given the investigation itself was a dud, I mostly wanted a form that talks about what they found in my locker. From what I heard from my Dad, they had to cart everything from my locker out in biohazard bags. If I could get that part of the investigation in writing as a part of my bully journal, I'd feel a bit better.

Again, it wouldn't be hard evidence, and I doubt it would do anything by itself, but it would be great to have on hand as a part of a greater whole if I ever did find something that I could nail those three bitches to the wall with.

I would have to sign a form (ugh, more paperwork) and prove I was the victim in the report in question, but I shouldn't have too much of an issue getting a hold of it, considering it was so recent.

When I asked if I'd actually get a hold of the copy today, he looked apologetic before telling me that there would likely be a queue and I'd probably be able to pick it up in a few days.

At least he was kinder about it then the hospital staff.

With that done, I tucked into the nearest alleyway, put on my disguise, and went on.


I stared at the blue boxes in front of me with a grin underneath my scarf. Another point in vitality, two in unarmed, and one in observe. Even nabbed another point in speed reading due to all the observe boxes.

I didn't learn anything really important with it. There were just a few tidbits of interesting trivia. Observe tells me who owns buildings now for one, and a lot of the run-down ones around here are owned by Fortress Construction for some reason.

Maybe they're looking for a new lot to put another shelter in or something? I'm not really knowledgeable about real estate, so hope they can find something of use, the Bay needs all the help it can get with its economy.

Dad did say he found a few-

A scream pierced the air interrupting my thoughts.

"Help! Hel-"

I heard a slam, and then a loud meaty thud. Then thuds followed by more thuds…

Without thinking I ran towards the noise. It was coming from an alleyway just ahead of me. As I got closer…

"What did I tell you slut? Not to fucking scream!"

…I heard another voice.

As I turned into the alleyway, the first thing I saw was a broken dark skinned woman in a scuffed-up uniform crumpled on the floor. Her face was a mess of bruises, and blood was pouring from her broken nose. She was leaning up against the wall, blood flowing where the back of her head impacted the hard brick.

Above her head, I saw her name.

LV 17 Rayyah Whitley

Across from her was her assailant, a short but muscled thug sneering down at her with undisguised disgust.

Disgraced Pit-Fighter
LV 4 Michael Donovan

The bald head and the number "88" tattooed to it told me exactly why he did it too.

He reared his foot back…

"Stop!"

Who said that? I turn my head left and right to look around to see if anyone else was there. I don't see anyo-

The thug slowly puts his foot down and turns towards me.

…Oh, that was me.

He stares at me for a moment. There's something off about his right eye, like it's not really staring at me. He also has a few scratch marks on his face. Mrs. Whitley must have fought back. He calmly takes a hanker chief out of one of his pockets and starts to wipe off the blood on his fist. "What the fuck did you just say to me?"

I schooled my eyes and stared at him. Observe.

Name: Michael Donovan
Title: Disgraced Pit-Fighter
Profession: Gang Member
Faction: E88
Sex: Male
Class: Brawler
Level: 4 EXP: N/A
Age: 32 Race: Human

HP: 682/700 MP: N/A

STR: 27
VIT: 22
DEX: 8
INT: 7
WIS: 4
LUK: 8

Status: One-Eyed Arthritis Hungry Eunuch

Wait, what?

Biography: A former E88 Pit-Fighter, Michael Donovan was once a rising star in the underground fighting rings hosted by Hookwolf. Due to his misogynistic views and through the influence of alcohol after a number of wins, he insulted Cricket and challenged her to one-on-one combat in the ring.

Due to the number of insults he called her before the match and his outspoken repeated desire to win the right to "rape her raw," Cricket took great pleasure in breaking all of his limbs, removing his right eye, and publicly castrating him before the laughing crowds.

Oh god!

Right before she intended to decapitate him, Hookwolf intervened. He thought keeping Michael alive in his current state would be better than simply letting him die, turning him into a living lesson for what happens to those who "grasp beyond their reach." Cricket humored Hookwolf, but ensured Michael would never have his eye or manhood back again by tossing the remains into a nearby burn barrel.

Well, frankly, he had it coming.

Even with Othala's granted regeneration saving him from bleeding out and reknitting snapped bones, it could not restore his missing body parts. Now, barred from the pits as a laughingstock, the subdued Michael takes out his rage and frustration on acceptable targets: the women of other ethnicities that the Empire considers to be of inferior races.

Emotions: Rage. Hatred. Satisfaction.

…Great, a one-eyed castrated misogynistic Nazi with a giant chip on his shoulder and a desperate need for anger management.

This is because I have a two in Luck, isn't it?

Silver lining; observe no longer gives me a brief history!

I shake my head. Focus.

"I said stop."

Quest Alert:
That's a very nice Nazi you have there…
Stop the Nazi and save the victim!

Time limit: 6 minutes
Reward: +1000 EXP, + 3 Strength, +3 Dexterity
Failure Penalty: Death and/or Shame

He looks unimpressed.

"Listen little girl, I've got no problem with you. You've got the right skin." He tilts his head to the side. "May not know exactly how pure you are to the ol' Aryan ideal, but you're close enough for me not to want to bash your skull in." He smiled with his teeth bared. "Her on the other hand…well, I'm just doing my civic duty here: taking care of the trash. So, how about you move on now darlin', there's no need for your blood to end up on the floor here."

"Oh fuck you, dickless wunder."

Oh fuck I said that out loud.

His eyes widen, and his fists tighten to a fine white. His face reddens and… "Whoa, I didn't know people could even get that shade of red!"

Also, fucking said that out loud too. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I don't know how the hell you fucking know that, but I feel generous today." He reaches under his jacket and pulls out a very large knife. "Now, I won't say it again, get the fuck away from here, or I'll treat you like I'm about to treat her, and carve you nice like a fucking Thanksgiving Turkey."

Okay. Fuck it.

"Oh I'm sorry. You're not dickless. You were castrated! That means you have no balls, not that you have no dick. It was an honest mistake. I mean, if we run into Cricket, I'm sure I could convince her to fix that for us. I'm sure she'd be up to it. What do you say?"

A new skill has been—

Close. Not now.

I focus back on-and he's actually purple now…and is that his health bar above his head?

"Alright bitch, time to bleed."

I think for half a second. Menu. Options. Notifications. Non-combat only.

He starts to charge towards me, the knife in his left-hand. For some reason, the blade is pointed down rather than up… That's like, a rookie mistake with a knife. (Thank you Unarmed Combat Mastery) He should be holding it for slashes and quick stabs, not…like some B-rated slasher film villain.

I raise my guard. "So, is that a yes?"

"Aaaaaagh!"

As he closes the distance, he starts swinging his knife out like his last name's Myers, thrusting down with the blade.

"I guess that's a no then. Well, I always did want to beat up Nazi." I stare at him in morbid fascination as I jump back a few steps, his knife missing by miles. "Don't you know that's a horrible way to use a knife?" I take another back step out of his range and into his blind spot as he tries to stab me like he's the American fucking psycho. "I mean, really now? You have no control with it."

"Shut the fuck up!"

"No can do Mr. Skinhead." I do another dodge. "I like talking." I step into his blind spot again, dodging another horribly performed stab. "Did your parents really like the Halloween series when they named you? It seems appropriate really."

He screams again in an inarticulate rage. I'm not sure he got that one, but yeah, less taunting, more fighting. He's stronger, so I can't overpower him, but…dodge…he's also horribly off-balance, and totally…dodge….focused on just stabbing me.

For an ex-pit fighter he doesn't really fight like one…

He stabs at me again.

This time, I dodge to his left-side, something that he completely didn't see coming for whatever reason, his purple face imitating a gold fish in shock. I lash out with my left hand and grab his wrist, and twist the knife's blade away from me. I pull his arm towards my hip, bringing him off balance.

At the same time, I raise my left leg up past the Nazi. With all the force I can muster, I bring my leg racing back down, and drive my heel into the back of his left ankle. The force of my leg carries it through, and the skinhead falls to the ground as one of his legs shoot out from under him. My left hand is still firmly on his wrist with the knife.

The maneuver is done all in the span of a second.

Ooh, he hit his head. His eyes are closed shut as he moans. That'll bruise.

I see numbers float in front of me in red.

-25

-150

I check his health. Yep his health is down to five-hundred and seven. Not good enough. With a shuffle of my feet, I'm now facing his downed body from his left side. I shift his captive wrist to my front and grab hold with my other hand.

I roll his wrist, and with a grunt from the Nazi and another red floating number, the knife pops out of his hand into one of mine.

Inventory.

With a quick toss, the knife vanishes with a small flash of light.

No weapon for you.

He's trying to get back up. I don't let him. I rear my right foot back and kick him in the head.

-300

Suddenly he's dead weight.

Observe.

Huh, unconscious is a status effect…so is berserk. Neat.

Suddenly, there's a small flash of light right in front of me.

When it fades, I see on the ground a pile of dollar bills and coins.

What.

Then I'm suddenly buried by over a dozen blue boxes appearing all at once.

My eyes widen.

What.