Let me tell you a little secret.

I'm something of a coward.

Yup, I'm never going to admit it out loud, but I can be a coward at times.

There're a lot of things I'm afraid of, things that I'm sure other people share. For example, I'm afraid of pain.

The idea of feeling pain alone is enough to make me wince and even shiver a little bit. It's not enough to make me want to run away and head for the hills, but it's just enough to make me reconsider making choices that will lead me to experiencing more of it.

I'm willing to bet that it has a lot to do with me being a rather sickly child growing up, thus having to see the doctor multiple times and get my blood drawn.

The earliest memory of being jabbed with a needle was when I was in the third grade. I had contracted typhoid fever, a big deal for a child my age, and had to be admitted to the hospital for weeks.

The nurse had to draw my blood to get the lab work done and I remember it being the most painful thing I had to go through.

I remember crying and screaming my lungs out in the ER, having to hold my mother's hand and gripping it so hard to the point where I was probably hurting her.

The needle, I remember, felt cold as it broke through the upper layer of my skin. That distinctive sharp pain still fresh even until now, a sensation that my younger self quickly grew to dread.

With high temperature rocking my body and an immune system that was severly weakened due to typhoid fever, my recovery was slow.

I can vaguely remember promising myself that I wouldn't get sick anymore so that I didn't have to go through something like that ever again.

Of course, that's not the case.

Ever since that first time, whenever I'd get sick to the point where it's necessary to jab me with a needle, I'd be dreading every visit to the doctor.

Even when it's for something as a check up, I'd dread every single moment.

Thankfully, my fear of being hurt via needles went away as I grow older... but I've developed something called white coat hypertension, which is a phenomenon where a person's blood pressure readings are higher when measured in a clinical setting compared to when measured in a non-clinical setting, due to the stress or anxiety associated with the medical environment.

Now, needles don't bother me as much. Hell, they don't even hurt anymore.

But, now that I'm here in Brockton Bay, I have other things that I have to worry about hurting me.

"Hm... I hope this works..."

So how do I go about making myself feel less pain? Well, there are multiple answers to that question.

Wearing armor is a solution... just not the kind I want. Armor, no matter how good, is not something I want to rely on. Which is why I'm trying to figure out if my power can provide me with the solution I need.

"Steady..." The sensation of slowly being enveloped by an invisible force feels strange, but something I quickly get used to. "Not too much now..."

The air around me shimmers through supernatural means, my powers shrouding my form in an invisble layer of energy.

Slowly, I float above the floor, kicking off the dust in the room. Frowning, I willed for the flow of energy to slow down and stabilize, so as to not make a mess of my home.

This fine tuning of power goes on for minutes, my brain requires a lot of concentration just to keep up the Psychic Shroud that I've manifested.

Eventually, I feel confident enough that I can both keep up the shroud and stay afloat without eviscerating everything in my direct vicinity.

"Huh..." I say, wondering, "it feels... weird."

I grimace.

It's like I'm covered head to toe in rubber.

Well... as long as this keeps me from getting, then I don't care if I feel like a giant condom.

"Now... let's see if this works."

Here comes the scary part...

Remember the guns those three Empire thugs left behind? I gave them to Lucy for safekeeping, but I also asked for one of them to bring with me.

Through the use of my telekinesis, I bring out the gun from the bag I store it in. As testament of my ever growing love for psychic powers, especially telekinesis, I make the gun point its barrel at me through the use of my mind alone.

I smile, feeling proud of the dextrous display.

To think it wasn't long ago when I struggled to not crush a grapefruit...

"Glock 17... seventeen rounds... 9mm..." I say to myself, analyzing the firearm without even touching it.

Not that any of that mean anything to me, never touched a gun in my life.

Which is funny, because technically, I'm about to use one without directly touching it.

I gulp.

Here goes nothing...

BANG

The trigger is 'pressed' and the gun goes off.

I reflexively close my eyes, the sound of gunshot deafening my ears, further enhanced by how echoey this empty warehouse I've made my ad hoc shooting range.

I let a few second fly by before eventually slowly opening my eyes. Quickly, I begin inspecting my body.

"No hole, no wound... phew, it works." I say with a smile, extremely relieved that I didn't nominate myself for a Darwin Award. "Still... just how did it work, exactly...?"

I wasn't able to see what happened to the bullet on account of me having my eyes closed. I consider shooting myself again, but I get the feeling that I'll just close my eyes again in reflex.

But, fuck it, right? I already tried shooting myself, what's another try at this point?

"Take two...!"

BANG

I try. I really try... but I just can't help closing my eyes! And fuck is it loud! Holy shit... I should've packed some earbuds or something.

Still... no hole, no wound, and – most importantly – no pain.

Hm... I can record myself with my phone and see the video recording, but I have a very strict rule of not recording myself using my powers. I'm not going to make it easier to incriminate myself, thank you very much.

And before anyone says 'oh, you can just delete the video after you're done looking at it' well, yeah, there's this thing called meta-data and who knows how good people are at data recovery in this world?

"Well, I guess I'll just have to save it for later." I shrug. Oh well.

I still have time before the next operation – god, it's so cringe calling it an operation – so let's see if David's up to hang out.

Without looking, I telekinetically fish out my phone from my bag, floating it over to my direction. Thoughtlessly, I reach for it—

SHRRK

"...eh?"

-only for it to be ground to dust before I can even grasp it in my hand.

"..."

Without looking at a mirror, I can tell my mouth's hanging so far low I might as well be catching birds. Eyes wide as dinner plates, I am left blinking at the sight of ruined electronics and scrap metal that used to be my phone.

I'm not proud to admit it... but it takes a while before I find out what happened.

"Ooookay..." I sigh, dropping the useless scrap metal to the floor, "it's less of an armor and more of a disintegration field."

I turn off the shroud – Disintegration Shroud – and slowly float down to the floor.

Geez... now I have to buy a new phone, great.


"I know you told me before but I still can't believe you quit your job at Fugly's..."

Hm... surprisingly, Samsung is still a thing here... maybe I shouldn't be too surprised, seeing as Apple's alive and well.

"And it wasn't even that long since you started working there!"

The latest model is expensive, though... maybe I should go with last year's model? Yeah, it's a no brainer. Even in a different world, these companies still operate the same way.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" David, feeling frustrated from being ignored, finally addresses me directly.

"I heard you," I say, "but I wasn't listening, not really."

I hear the teenager sigh, something I notice he's been doing lately. Maybe he's in a bad mood or something?

It's midday and it's technically a school day, but I have 'requisitioned' David over here to help me shop for a new phone.

I had to find him first, since my phone's no longer an option. It's not hard when you have a super power that lets you find people. So, I caught him right in the middle of walking to school.

Thankfully, David's not very difficult to persuade, even if it means having to skip school and commit truancy.

Hell, he looked like he's happy when I sprung the offer... still didn't stop him from nagging me on the way here, though.

"Then what about all that talk about needing money then, huh?" David asks, raising a very valid point. "How you gonna get money if you don't have a job, huh? You find a new job yet?"

"Something like that..."

Then, I grimace. Ugh. Looking at David, I was right to do so. He's looking at me with that 'is he for real' look, like, he's got a bullshit detector built in him right out of the womb or something. Sighing, I have no choice but to spin a tale for him.

"Okay, maybe I don't have a job lined up just yet," I tell him, "but I've saved up the money I got from working at Fugly's. Relax, I can afford a new phone."

The highly perceptive teenager is still staring at me, like I'm some sort of kid who's lying about dipping his hand in the cookie jar. Eventually, he shakes his head.

"...fine, let's just get you your stupid phone already." He says, head dipped low, before casting his gaze aside.

I frown. Something must be really bothering him... and something's telling me it's not a topic I can just ask openly.

Maybe I shouldn't have asked him to come? Nah, he sounded way too happy to be ditching school... maybe it has something to do with school after all?

Lord Street Market, commonly known as just the Market by the locals, is an open air market in Brockton Bay.

It's basically a very huge parking lot, surrounded by grass and with stalls set up on it. Kind of reminds me of the bazaars I used to visit when I was younger back in my old world.

The stalls here could be rented by anybody, ranging from anywhere between fifty to three hundred bucks, and were used to sell all sorts of trinkets from foodstuffs, electronics, Cape memorabilia, and even pets.

Heck, I saw a kid trying to sell his pet rat a few stalls back.

Obviously, I'm aiming for something secondhand. I looked up phone prices brand new and immediately noped myself out the website. Once again, I am reminded of what decades long of shitty economy could do to a country.

Right now, I'm browsing this dude's stall. He's got a nice collection going on, most of them in good condition too.

There's just one problem...

"Oh, c'mon dude," David goes off, not hiding his irritation, "eight hundred for something that came out like, what, three years ago? You're kidding, right?"

The guy manning the stall vehemently shakes his head, his rough features highlighted further by the frown he currently has on his face. His arms are crossed over his fantasy dragon printed t-shirt.

"I'm giving you a good deal there, kid," his eyes dart over to me, "tell your little brother, man, for something like that and at that good of a condition? It's basically a steal!"

The man's very strong Boston accent does a lot in reinforcing his image of a stubborn salesman, but it does little in convincing us of the claims he's making.

"He's my friend," I correct him, "but I gotta agree with him; eight hundred bucks is a lot of money for something that's three generations ago. You sure I can't get this for five?"

"No way," the vendor denies ardently, "sure it's a little outdated but the specs are still up to date with what's out in the market now."

Yeah, well, I'm not going to argue with him on that front. I am haggling because I know I can get that phone for cheaper.

"And I'm running a business here," he says, trying to sound empathetic, "I got overheads to cover, you know it."

"Uh-huh, I'm guessing most of that goes to that box of half-a-dozen Dunkin's?" David gestures to the opened box of half-eaten treats.

"Aw, shuddup kid," the vendor snaps before sighing, "look, I can't give you anything lower than eight hundred, and that's final."

"What about five-fifty? You'll go for five-fifty, yeah?"

"No."

"Six?"

"Try harder."

"Six and a half?" I try for the last time.

"...six and a half." The guy gives me a stink-eye, but relents.

"Deal."

We both shake on it.

Storing my newly purchased phone inside my bag, I make sure to hold it close to me. Although this place has people patrolling it, including several Capes if I'm sensing correctly, you can never be too careful.

Why, yes, I am indeed using my powers to scan for threats.

It's a variant of my Psychic Field, one where I can scan the layout of the area I'm in along with the people that are within it.

I'm not concentrating as hard as I'm supposed to when I'm searching for something in particular, but just having the Psychic Field up and running is enough for me to be aware of what's around me.

To the point where, if I want to, I can walk with my eyes closed and not bump into anything.

We walk to the benches, where we can both sit down and rest. My rest is less of a physical need, but more of a mental one as I need to prepare myself for what Lucy has planned later tonight.

"David," I begin, asking the boy who just sat down on the space next to me, "may I borrow your phone?"

"Huh? For what?"

"I need to send a text." I tell him with my palm open.

"Sure..." He hands me his phone and I waste no time in typing in numbers. "Who are you texting?"

"Oh, just Lucy."

"Pft!" Ah, yeah, I was expecting this kind of reaction from him. "L-Lucy? You know her number? And you're using my phone to text her?"

"Hm? Yeah, we're neighbors." I tell him casually, shrugging my shoulders. "It's for emergency. You know, just in case either of us left the stove on while we're away, or something like that..."

I take my eyes off the phone screen to stare at David.

"It's definitely not because I'm interested in her or anything like that, so you don't have to worry your sweet little head."

"S-Shut up..."

I chuckled, handing his phone back to him. Ah, to be in love.

"There, now you have her number," I point out, poking him at the side playfully, "you literally don't have a reason to not ask her out now. Don't say I didn't help."

"Oh shove it..." he says that, but I can feel his heartbeat rising. I can tell that bro's happy, a hundred percent. "Hm? Why did you text her to 'rest well'?"

"Hey now, you're reading my text? That's rude." I say without any real heat.

"Is she sick or something?" Ugh, he's actually concerned for her... damn it kid, you're actually down bad for her, huh?

"I don't know," I tell him, lying through my teeth, "I saw her taking out the trash this morning and she wasn't looking so fresh. She got bags under her eyes, she was extra pale... probably stayed up all night playing computer games or whatever it is you kids do nowadays."

"Alright, old man, whatever you say." David finally calms down after hearing my answer, I can feel it through my powers. "...you think I should visit her? Bring her something to help her feel better?"

Uh... how should I respond to this?

On one hand, I want to be supportive and say, yes, he should do that... but with whatever's currently going on, I don't think it's a good idea to have David anywhere near the apartment apartment.

"Hm... I don't know," if it sounds like I'm confused, it's because I am, "what if it's actually something serious? What if it's contagious? I think we should let her rest."

"You think so?" I nod at his question. "Alright then..."

"That doesn't mean you can't text her, though."

"Yeah, yeah..."


"You sure took your time."

Ah, yeah, I should probably apologize to her for that.

Looking at the sky, it's already dark out. My little outing with David took longer than expected, mainly because I wanted to know what's bugging him.

Wasn't very successful on that front, I'm afraid. It's all on me, I was being indecisive. I should've just be forthright and asked him straight up, but I just had a lot on my mind.

Standing in front of both our apartment doors is noneother than Lucy herself. She looks well rested enough, indicated by the fierce scowl on her face. If she has enough energy to glare at me like this, then she's probably got proper rest.

"Sorry, got a bit caught up with something." I apologize, raising a hand.

"Hm, with your friend David, huh?" I don't like that tone she's using... "What, couldn't decide which phone to choose?"

"Something like that," hey, if she's giving me attitude, it's only fair if I return a little bit back to her, "but no, seriously, I'm sorry. I should've called you, but I figured you could use the rest."

I can tell she's still upset at me, but a sigh from her is enough evidence for me to know that won't take my tardiness personally. After all, she's just on edge as much as I am, with everything going on...

"...thank you," she starts, "for being considerate... but I can take care of myself."

To that, I nod.

She opens her room's door, entering the dark place of dwelling only to emerge back outside a minute later with a familiar looking duffel bag over her shoulder.

"What's with that?" I ask, gesturing to the bag.

"My gear." She says as we walk towards the stairs. "Not all of us are Parahuman, some of us have to rely on plain old equipment."

We make our way down the stairs, heading out of the complex proper and into the streets.

"We expecting trouble?" I ask, side-eyeing my younger companion.

"We're starting one." She tells me grimly.

"Oh."

Reaching the place where we parked the car we used as getaway the other night, I was just about to enter the passenger side, only to be stopped by Lucy.

"No. You drive." She says, already opening the passenger side door. "To the docks."

I sigh.

Once inside, I do all the pre-driving routine. Turn on the engine, buckle up, turn on the A/C, lower the handbrake, and only then I step on the gas pedal.

"Empire always get their goods transported to the docks, they have their own place to conduct exchanges and supply drops there. It's all under Medhall, of course, so no one bats an eye." Lucy explains. "If we're lucky, we should be able to catch them in the middle of the act."

"What about this guy of yours... what's his name again?"

"Jimmy Botez." Lucy supplies helpfully. "He'll be there, but he'll be heavily guarded after what happened."

"Hm. We can't risk him slipping away."

"True," Lucy agrees, "which is why we'll move quickly. We'll sneak in and take out everyone in our way."

Whoa, alright, wasn't expecting that.

"Not worried about civvies?" I ask.

"Dockworkers know not to intervene when it comes to back-door business deals," Lucy says, "if we see anyone, then they're most likely complicit in whatever's going on."

I nod, taking in the information that has been provided to me. It makes sense, I suppose. It's not like you have to hire outsiders when you can just use your own men to do all the dirty work.

Speaking of dirty work...

"How do we deal with them?" I ask. "Lethal? Non-lethal?"

"...I'll leave that to you."

Okay, so I'll stick with knocking out people and maiming them. Good to know.

"How are we going to get the goods out of there? In case you haven't noticed, we're in a sedan with not a lot of space in the trunk." I point out. "And before you expect me to drive a truck; I can't."

Those things don't come in automatic and I can't drive a manual, okay!

"Then I'll drive." Oi, don't think I don't see you rolling your eyes at me. I swear, kids these days... "You'll be busy dealing with Empire thugs anyway and making sure we're in one piece, so leave the getaway to me."

"And then where do we go?"

"I have a place where we can stash everything somewhere in the Trainyards," is it just me or is she getting annoyed with me asking these questions, "from there, we'll split up and lay low; for a few days if we have to."

"...okay."

"Any more questions you need answered, Jack?" Oh, I was right, she is annoyed at me asking too many questions.

"Just one," hey, she's asking, "what if there're Capes?"

I don't receive any immediate answer. For once, my question leaves her thinking, probably mulling over whether or not we should do this whole thing.

"Then we'll just have to be very careful."

Right, careful, we'll just have to be careful...

Here's hoping.


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