Man, this was kind of dramatic wasn't it? Standing in a badly lit skate park, in front of my sister and three dead meatheads whilst a cop tried to get me to drop my gun and my dear darling sister put on the crocodile tears and played the victim.
All we needed now was father dearest telling us to cut it out in so many words and filling us with pant-shitting terror, and it would be just like home.
"I said put the gun down! The Cop yelled, pointing his service revolver at me.
"Observe."
Police Officer
Lv 8 Larry Stilton
Denver Police Department
HP: 122/122 MP: 40/40
Larry is a walking, talking, donut-eating stereotype of a police officer. He came here to respond to some gunshots and is about to run afoul of something much worse than the gang shooting he expected.
Status: Healthy, Heart Disease
Only 122HP? Level 8? I could probably take him if it came down to it. But well, I didn't exactly what to murder a police officer. I let the Glock clatter to the ground. "Okay, okay, jeez, calm down," I murmured, sparing a glance at Cherie who was still pretending to be the weepy victim.
"Now hands in the air! don't make a move!."
What about the revolver? "Observe."
Smith and Wesson .38 Revolver
Quality: Common
Type: Weapon
A classic service revolver, used by police across the United States. Most departments use more modern firearms now.
Durability: 93/100
What, no information on it's damage dealing abilities? Damn. I slowly raised my hands. What was Cherie's game here? His emotional symphony was… normalish. Didn't seem like she was affecting him. Unless she just wanted to see what I'd do?
I guess a better question was 'How am I going to get out of this one?'.
Officer Stilton (should I call him Larry?) approached cautiously, keeping his revolver trained on me.
"You're making a mistake, Larry," I said breezily, just as he was about to reach for my arm, "I just want you to know that."
A twinge of shock ran through my ears, like someone strummed a bass guitar. I equipped the baton. "Power Strike," I muttered, spinning around and striking his wrist to force him to drop the gun. Damn, only thirty five damage?
Anger surged in Larry. Anger and Fear. Right, I was resisting arrest wasn't I?
-10HP!
Through your pain, you have created a new ability!
'Physical Endurance (Passive)'
'What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.'
Ow, the guy could punch. Still, only ten HP? This would be easier than I thought. And apparently I just got some sort of passive skill to reduce damage. "Don't say I didn't warn you Larry." I swung the baton again. "Power Strike!"
Power Strike has gained a level!
Huh. The baton glowed with a yellow light when I did that. Didn't know that. Oh that was better though. 42 damage that time. He charged at me again, and I met him in the middle with a third power strike.
-11HP! (0 Resisted)
Critical hit!
900XP
$908.11
And free money! Awesome, it's what I've always wanted.
"You really have changed." Cherie was still standing there, arms folded over his chest and sizing me up like she hadn't just played the victim there. "The Sebastien I knew would've run."
I leaned down and picked my glock back up… and Larry's revolver as well, why not, shunting them into my inventory.
"And what's with the lightshow?" She pressed, stepping towards me, "You couldn't do that before."
… Man, I hadn't really thought about hiding that part from her. I guess I was just… oh who cares. "Yeah, well, let's have the rest of this enlightening conversation somewhere I didn't kill three people and knock out a police officer." He was… knocked out right? I mean, if he was dead, oops but life goes on, but I did want to not murder him. He was sitting at zero HP but… okay just unconscious good.
Cherie continued looking at me, like she wasn't sure what to do.
I gave her my best 'Are you an idiot?' look. "Hello? Police? They're coming?" And apparently just defeating this guy wasn't enough to complete the quest and okay maybe that was fair enough. I still had most of the time limit, maybe it would complete automatically provided I wasn't in handcuffs? "Look, you want to stick around and answer why three people are dead, be my guest, I'm sure it'll go swell. But I'm not."
"... Yeah, alright."
'Suzie's' was a rather nice looking diner all things considered, and they were open all night which was even better. I had an order of a coffee (cream and two sugars), and Cherie was having some kind of fruit juice concoction.
"Alright, sis, let's begin with what the fuck? Seriously, dick move."
She rolled her eyes, not the least bit repentant because of course she wasn't. She was still feeling pretty calm, but there was an undercurrent of interest. "You're fine, Bastien, don't be a bitch about it."
The waitress placed our orders down and went to serve someone else, so I took a sip of the still steaming coffee. "You could've avoided that entire thing. Got him to call it in as nothing."
"It's fine," She stressed, somehow making me seem like an overdramatic teenager. Bitch. "And if I didn't do that, I wouldn't have gotten to see what you could do."
"Yeah, consider it a warning, Cherie. Try anything and it'll be you getting slammed."
"Jeez, fine, okay, I'm sorry. Just consider it payback for leaving." For leaving? "You know how Dad got when Jean-Paul left. And then you were gone, like half a year later."
… Oh. Shit. "Sorry," I muttered, genuinely remorseful. Sort of. I wasn't remorseful enough to, you know, regret my actions, just that Dad was a huge dick about it. "I am. But fuck, Cherie, I wasn't sticking around."
She took a long draw of her tropical juice thing. Was it juice or a smoothie? I heard a blender earlier. "Whatever, little brother, we're even now. Enough about the past, let's talk about the present - and what is presentlygoing onwith you?"
"Honestly? I don't know," I admitted, staring into my coffee. "Been like this for a year. Just woke up one morning and… I don't know how to explain it." A quick glance to make sure the waitress wasn't nearby, but Cherie was gently twisting everyone's hearts to ignore us. Nice of her to actually do something. "I woke up and there was this box above my head - this floating little box of text. Had all my names - the real ones, the fake ones. Calls me 'The Gamer', whatever that means. Says I'm level eighteen. You're level twenty, by the way."
She didn't say anything, so I just kept going.
"I got HP - hit points. And MP - magic points, I think. Has my 'stats' and things. Like a fucking RPG or something, like I'm playing Hero Quest." I let my head hit the table.
-0HP! (1 Resisted)
"Did I mention I have experience points? Killing your boytoys got me three hundred a pop, beating that police officer gave me eight hundred. Nicky and Gill were like, forty-five hundred each. Not to mention I get money from it for some reason." I leaned back up. "And, like, a week ago, I got some Quest pop up things. First one said 'Figure out what to do with your life', second one told me to reunite with one of 'The Heartbroken' - that's uh, you guys, I guess. And me, maybe, I don't know anymore. Gave me four weeks to do it - and if I failed, it implied Dad would find me somehow so maybe I panicked and that's why I ended up here looking for you and Jean-Paul."
"... Sebastien, all of that sounds completely fucking crazy." Hey! I didn't feel that was particularly fair in a world where someone could get the ability to turn into clay or some dumb shit. "But you at least genuinely believe it, and weirder things have probably happened. So what happens now?"
I shrugged. "I don't know? I figured this counted as reuniting, but apparently either you aren't actually one of the Heartbroken which is probably not it, because it says you are, orrrr this isn't officially reuniting and I don't know what is."
She nodded slowly, and then drained her juice-smoothie. "Alright. I've decided."
"... Decided what?"
"I'm coming with you of course, little brother." Wait, what? "I was getting bored of this anyway - running from Nicolas and Guillaume didn't help. I had some other plans, but this seems like it could be interesting. And if I get bored, I can just leave anyway."
Quest Success!
Keeping up with the Vasilscompleted successfully!
Gained 5000XP
You have gained a level!
You have gained (5) Stat Points!
You have unlocked the Party System!
Click to shrink...
… Huh. "That did it," I murmured, flicking through the menus to get to the newest addition, "That completed the Quest. Apparently you had to join me." Now how did this work... "Invite to Party Cherie Vasil." Nothing happened.
"... was something supposed to happen there? Because it didn't."
"Ugh, I don't know. This didn't come with an instruction manual." I smooshed my face with my hands. "It's weird. You know when we Triggered, we just… knew. I didn't really have to sit down and wonder or think about anything. I just knew. I knew what the music was, and I knew how to make it mine when I sang, and you knew how to do… whatever it is. But this? I didn't know how any of it works. Fuck, I still don't." Well. Party system could wait I guess. "Look, I'm just going to level up right now and then figure it out later."
Let's see… I wasn't actually sure what kind of difference five points would make. Earlier, I wouldn't have even been sure this would make a difference, except Power Strike was definitely doing something, and the rest of this is clearly real and not a persistent hallucination so why not?
Stats.
Job: The Gamer
Name: Sebastien Vasil
Level: 19
XP: 1220/32000
Age: 17
HP: 266/266
MP: 221/221
STRENGTH: 8 ()
AGILITY: 12 ()
VITALITY: 7 ()
INTELLIGENCE: 12 ()
WISDOM: 13 ()
CHARISMA: 18 ()
LUCK: 3 ()
Cash: $1045.52
You have (5) unspent Stat points
Click to shrink...
Well. Luck was low. Like, really low. It was my lowest of all, but it was also the stat I felt I would have the least appreciable effect. What would happen if I had five extra points of luck? Would I even notice? Maybe Nick and Gill wouldn't have found me, but them finding me led me to Cherie. Would I have just found Cherie anyway? Ugh.
Fuck luck, what I wanted was to not die. Five points to Vitality then. How much HP did that make?
356/356
Oh? That's good. An extra five points and I was up what… ninety HP? Hm.
"Level up?"
"Yeah, like a game," I muttered, a little distracted, "Obviously. I level up, I get stronger, I get a bunch of points I can spend apparently. I just put them into my Vitality stat, and I went from about two sixty six to three fifty six. I've got way more HP than you now. Regenerates faster too I think, I haven't really tested it."
Cherie was staring at me blankly. Right. She'd never touched a video game.
"HP is health, basically. I get it back by sleeping. To give you an idea, when that cop punched me, it was like ten damage. When I hit him with the baton, that was thirty five, but admittedly, I was using my power. Shooting your boy toys was like one fifty each?"
She nodded slowly, and I could literally hear the gears working in her mind. "So if a bullet does one fifty, or whatever, how much do we have?"
"Uh. I've got three fifty six right now, you've got two forty." Hm. I wasn't much of a Maths guy (Dad had us homeschooled by people he brainwashed, but it was a very… unethical sort of education, with subjects like 'Lockpicking' alongside 'Algebra'), but I could sort of approximate things. Officer Larry had one twenty two HP but he also had Heart Disease. I didn't look at it very closely, but it might have affected his HP overall. If I assume, and yes, make an ass of me out of it, but the average person probably had something around that range. That meant I was… what? Three times sturdier than the average person? Was Cherie twice as strong?
That didn't… that didn't seem right. My own sturdiness I could chalk up to this weird secondary power, sure, but why was Cherie, whose power was very much mental, whose physical prowess was very muchnotolympian (sure she might have worked out but she wasn't exactly Brawnhilda here), had nearly twice as much health as a police officer, even one with heart disease? Hell, she had more health than her meatheads and they were pretty tough looking.
"Brother, what are you thinking about?" Oh, right, empath. Man, that was kind of annoying. Had it always been annoying back at… back with the others?
"This power is dumb and I hate it," I said blankly. "Why do you have so much HP? Your power's not physical. That cop had like one twenty HP, and your meatheads weren't more than that. But you're two forty, and I was something similar as well actually. Before today, and leveling up and other stuff. But until today, if you told me I could survive a bullet to the chest, I would've told you there's a bridge for sale at a good price."
Cherie shrugged, seemingly much more at ease with all of this than I was. I envied that. I think. "People survive getting shot all the time, brother."
"Those three didn't," I muttered, looking down at what was left of my coffee. "Cherie, it doesn't make sense is all I'm saying."
"Bastien. Legend exists. That's all I'm saying." … Okay, fair point. "So, you can become stronger using this power? Just by leveling up you got a bit more… tough?"
I didn't like the undercurrent to her emotions right now, but I shrugged anyway. "Yeah, I guess. Not by a lot."
She gave me a look. "Well, why haven't you?"
"... Why? What would be the point?"
"Ugh, you reallyarean idiot sometimes." Hey! "You get a power that lets you become stronger, to really grow and you do what? You sit on your ass for a year? You're worse than Dad."
"Cherie," I said slowly, with an amount of calm that I found surprising. The Glock was in my hand again, just on the table, angled towards her. "Do not. Compare me.To him."
There was a genuine streak of fear in her emotions, so I was willing to let the fact that when she said "Sorry,", there wasn't any actual genuine apology in it.
"... but my point still stands. If you worked at it you could probably take on Alexandria - or the entire Triumvirate. Brother, you could become the boss of a city! A king! Emperor of the World, God, it's all possible!"
I twitched, annoyed. All of her excitement and enthusiasm, genuine as it may be, was clamoring in my ears. I could do without the brass and drums thank you very much. "'The nail that sticks out gets hammered back in'. I dunno if you were still around for it, but I saw what happened to Dad a few months back. Tried kidnapping a celebrity and just like that," I clicked my fingers for emphasis, "Hammered right the fuck down. If I woke up one day with the strength to fight Alexandria? That'd be a different thing. If I try building myself up? Moment someone realises what I'm doing, I don't wake up the next morning." I put my fingers to my head and made a small gunshot noise.
"Besides," I muttered, continuing on, "To get anywhere I have to do… challenging things. I can't beat up normal people all day to reach Alexandria's strength. Well, maybe I can, but it'll get really slow."
Why was she frustrated? "Ugh, you are impossible. Do I have to tell you how to do everything? Don't go around fighting normal people," She gestured at the waitress who was behind the bar, "Fight actual capes. Idiot."
"Sis, that is like, the thing I have been trying to avoid this entire time."
She rolled her eyes at me again. God damn it Cherie, stop being a bitch for five seconds. "You're not doing a great job of it then."
"Hey! It wasn't my fault I ran into Nicky and Gill!"
Something in her gaze sharpened. "Isn't it?" Her emotions twisted into a piercing beat, like the beginning of a fox hunt. I had a sinking feeling I was the fox. "You came out of hiding looking for us, Bastien. Your own power told you to figure out what to do with your life. I can hear your fucking feelings, brother, I know you enjoyed beating up that officer, and I'd bet my sweet ass that you enjoyed beating up Nicolas and Guillaume as well."
I opened my mouth to retort but… she was right, wasn't she?
After coming to a difficult realisation, you've gained 1 WIS
Damn it. She was going to be insufferable about this. "... Okay, fine. Maybe I was deluding myself into thinking I could possibly be a normal person after everything that's happened to me. Another reason to punch Dad in the face if I ever see him again. But just because I enjoy fighting doesn't mean I'm going to just pick a fight with whoever! I'm not a Hero, and I don't want to be a Villain again."
"Christ, Bastien, do Ireallyhave to do everything for you? Be a Vigilante then, it's not fucking rocket science. Find villains, beat the shit out of them, kill them, whatever. You get money from it you said, so do that for a living." She leaned back in my chair, looking at me like I was the idiot here.
… I guess I was.
Vigilante huh? It was kind of risky. If I was on my own, the Protectorate or whoever wouldn't help. Probably. But… well, did I really want to join them? I was a dangerous Master - a son of Nikos Vasil. No matter what they said, I can't see them just looking at me like nothing to be worried about.
"What do you get out of all of this, anyway?" I said, half-accusingly. It was mostly to change the subject.
"I told you, I'm bored," She said breezily, leaning back in her chair, "You're right about that story with Dad. I stuck around because I thought maybe he was building up to something. Building a group of powerful children, maybe take over the Ontario underworld? Or the city itself, I didn't care. But no." The pitch of her emotions dropped. "He just used us to get him a new girlfriend. That's what he wanted. To bang someone. All that power, all that potential… and he uses it for sex."
"Yeah. Sounds like Dad. Also, doesn't answer my question."
She rolled her eyes again. "I told you, I'm bored. That's it, little brother. You're interesting right now. If you can really grow and become stronger, than I want to see what happens." She paused. "Besides. Tweedledum and Tweedledee were chasing me for the past month, and it was getting really old."
Ah. Insurance against our father. I could understand that. "Alright, fine." Doesn't mean I liked it though. But… well. It could be worse, I guess. "I'll be a Vigilante, I guess,"
Quest Success!
Boredom Breakerhas been completed successfully!
You have gained 5000XP!
Oh nice. That put me at... nearly twenty percent, natch. "And I'll let you tag along. On one condition."
"Name it."
"I don't know, brother," She muttered behind me. I couldn't see what she was doing, but I could hear the uncertainty in her song. "Are you sure?"
I rolled my eyes - although I wasn't facing her. She could probably hear it though. "Yes, I'm sure. God. Don't be a little bitch." I parroted her own voice for that last part, and I could feel the annoyance. This was… kind of nice, actually. I'd never thought I'd say I missed this.
"Fine, fuck, don't blame if this goes bad." There was some rustling as she got prepared.
I rolled my eyes again. "You're dying my hair not defusing a bomb."
She huffed, and the indignation violins fiddled in my ears. "Yeah, but Burgundy? Brother, come on, you'd look better with something lighter like Auburn."
"I like it darker, so shut your whining and do it already." The reason Cherie was dying my hair was pretty simple - Officer Stilton had seen my face, and my semi-distinctive dyed green hair. So, although we were skipping town in the morning, dying it red was just to be on the safe side, and to do it, we were… borrowing the apartment of one of her meatheads. He was dead, he didn't need it. I'd probably collect all the food and things later and stuff them into my inventory.
I settled into the chair and let out a sigh. "So where should we go next? We can't stay here, obviously. Denver's a big place but I'm not risking it."
There was a genuine stream of uncertainty in her song. She really didn't know if she wanted to dye my hair red? Christ Cherie, it's not a fucking-OW!
-27HP! (1 Resisted)
Condition gained: Moderate Bleeding (-5HP every five seconds)
Physical Endurance has gained a level!
"Cherie what the fuck!" I shouted, shooting out of the chair and grabbing at my back. Thankfully, as I'd jumped up, Cherie had pulled the knife out. The knife she had embedded in my back. The knife she had just fucking stabbed me with.
She better have a good fucking explanation for this or, sister or no, I was going to shoot her right in her pretty face.