blööh1 Chapter 4: rcbyby, a 9 to 5 fanfic

A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start)

By: Wasted Ink

[NSFW] - A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start) by Wasted Ink

Status: ongoing

Published: 2023-12-30

Updated: 2024-03-29

Words: 219159

Chapters: 37

Original source: https/forum./threads/25262

Exported with the assistance of

A Mage's Guide to the Multiverse (Celestial Grimoire SI, Worm Start)

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 1

I had to admit; waking up at the ass crack of dawn in a dark, moderately cold park in nothing but baggy sweats and mismatched crocs wasn't the finest start to my day. I was immediately chilled to the bone, breath coming out in short misty bursts as I wrapped my lean arms around my shirtless torso and looked around wildly. The motion caused the ratty newspaper that had been draped over my body to flutter harmlessly to the ground. I ignored it in favor of more confusion.

"What the fuck?! Where the fuck am I?"

My voice, normally deep and quite monotonous, came out an octave or two higher as I half-stumbled off of the dew covered park bench I'd been passed out on.

"Josh? Bro, I swear to God if this is another fuckin' prank…" I glared into the pale dimness of the park's street lights, the coolness of fear warring with the heat of anger roiling in my gut.

Now, I wasn't usually one for panic and indecision. For all the shittiness it brought into my life, depression included, the military did manage to ruthlessly yank out the majority of indecision and awkwardness that had plagued me for years in highschool. I did my four and a half years in the Army, got out after a suspicious shrink pegged me with both high-functioning autism and antisocial personality disorder, and proceeded to spend the rest of my twenty-something year old life being a proper hermit that occasionally got a check from Youtube for making shitty video-game review videos.

What a shitty way to prepare for being dropped in some random ass place at 6 AM. This was definitely not my two-bedroom apartment in East Harlem, and while it was cold - like, morning time during Winter cold - it wasn't New York biting the nails brick'd. Either my roommate, Josh, decided to play a decidedly lame prank and dumped me in some random ass city with no warm clothes, or I was magically spirited away during the night like some half-assed isekai protagonist in a shitty webtoon.

I bit my lip, clenching my fists tightly to push down the rising panic. "Josh!"

No reply, other than a vaguely distant scream and a trio of gunshots. In spite of myself, I couldn't stop a half-hysterical chuckle from escaping my lips. 'Maybe this is Harlem after all'.

But of course it wasn't. Now that my eyes were starting to adjust more to the darkness - and even then, the sun was slowly beginning to dip up in the distance - I could see that my surroundings were completely and utterly unfamiliar. I wasn't someone who ventured out a lot in the slightest, being a self-proclaimed hermit and all, but even I had a grasp of modern-day New York architecture. The park I was in seemed… not exactly dead, but definitely not very well-kept. The hedges were growing prickly with dead twigs and sticks, the paved pathways were pretty battered and cracked, and the grass seemed like it needed a nice shave.

'Fuck it,' I grumbled internally, turning away from the rundown park and fishing through my sweatpants' pockets. There was an empty pack of Spearmint gum - weird, because I didn't even chew gum, a Zippo lighter, a battered pack of cigs that I carelessly tossed into the nearest trashcan, and a dirty wallet. It wasn't the expensive Slytherin-embroidered leather wallet my ex had gotten me for Christmas, but it was something. I sat back on the bench, the cold temporarily forgotten in light of my most recent find, and I searched through the wallet. It reeked like months of ass sweat, I noticed immediately, and disgustingly enough… so did I for some reason.

"I can get a nice hot shower after I Uber back home," I snorted, shaking the scent away and pulling out my rightful findings. A crumpled twenty dollar bill was in the main compartment, which I quickly pocketed, what looked like a State ID was hidden in one of the smaller flaps, and a purple sticky note that immediately stood out to me… mainly because it had my name at the top in very fancy letters. A sense of foreboding drying my mouth, I read on.

To one Jason Black,

You have been chosen.

I cannot offer you much, information or material-wise, but just know that I am looking forward to seeing what you can do. Many beings are watching in interest, so please do not disappoint.

The Celestial Grimoire is within you, always.

Rise to new heights, journey to places no one from your world has ever thought to go, and become something greater than yourself! One day, if you survive, we will meet face to face. I will answer any questions then.

Take care.

PS: I would be remiss to not tell you this: You are in Worm. Practice caution.

Silence, interrupted by the occasional jarring ambient noise of a city on perpetual fire, pervaded the area. The coolness of the wintry morning air was no longer numbing my skin. No, the absolute dread that poured liquid lead through all corners of my body and soul did that all on its own. It felt as if the rug, the floorboards, and the whole fucking house was swept from beneath my feet, leaving me drifting in a cold, lonely void of fear and indecision. I wish I could say that I was one of those crazy motherfuckers who actively wished to become the main character of some crazy manga or anime, venturing into dungeons or fighting supervillains or whatever the fuck, but…

The truth of the matter was that I enjoyed my sleepy, boring little life. I preferred my video games on my 4k monitor, not staring me in the fucking face. Not to mention the fucker decided to place me in Worm of all places. Ignoring the fact that it was just a fucked world in general, I barely even knew the plot! Something, something, world ends?!

Then again, maybe it was stupid to take this at face value. My roommate knew how much of a nerd I was, and he also knew a bit about the type of shit I read. Coming up with some bullshit mystic celestial mumbo-jumbo wouldn't be too out of character for the friendly jackass.

A trickle of warmth livened my senses. "Yeah, this is probably still some dumb joke. Josh, you weirdo, stop hiding and bring me a fucking shirt man!" I looked around again. Nothing but darkness and unfamiliarity. Maybe he was-

A little 'ping' pierced through both the wintery silence and my own inner ramblings, and something in my gut pulled. Hard. Like a desperate yank of a fishing pole.

Spoiler: Mystic Eyes of Death Perception (Tsukihime - 800 CP)

Mystic Eyes of Death Perception - All things die eventually. No matter how clever you are or what paradox you invoke to escape it, all that which is born 'alive into this world will eventually leave it. And now, having seen such a thing up close at some point in your life, your body has internalized it in those beautiful eyes of yours. You are able to perceive 'death' itself on living beings and physical objects, appearing as thin red lines. When You touch or cut along these lines, the object or being in question is immediately cut deeply regardless of their durability, and attempts at healing or regeneration are greatly stunted -perhaps even made impossible for some beings, though the lines are thinner and more difficult to target the tougher a target is. At first, these lines are all you can perceive and influence, but after some time passes they will become clearer to your eyes and you will eventually see circular 'points' on their body that the lines all trace back to. Cutting or stabbing this point of death directly will immediately kill the target in question - no form of reincarnation, resurrection, or regeneration will save them from the bitter taste of death. This is what it means to kill something. With time and continued use, you may eventually be able to understand and perceive the concept of death in less tangible things, such as the spells of Magecraft or the empty space between you and an object, though the same general rules apply- and some things can only be 'cut', not 'killed', for they have no point of death.

However, perceiving how fragile the world and existence as a whole really is… that's something no human mind can truly bear witnessing. When your eyes are active, the perception of death trains the mind and can eventually cause a human brain to suffer a fatal aneurysm from continued use, and can also damage one's sanity as they are constantly made to understand the concept of death all around them. Even to an inhuman mind that can sustain the physical damage and the sanity-straining view of entropy, they are tiring to use in the long-term without preparation or precautions. Secondly, the 'points' of death may never appear for certain beings- beings that were never 'born' or are free of the concept of death entirely, such as a True Ancestor at the peak of their power during the night of a full moon - you would have to remove the source of their immortality or introduce them to the possibility of mortality in a different way, which is beyond the scope of using these alone. The strain also increases the longer you perceive the death of things beyond living beings or physical objects, which can do great damage to your mind if you're unprepared for it.

The metaphorical fishing line snapped like a taut tendon, releasing the broken ability back into the sea.

I couldn't even mourn its loss, however. Those feelings, that soul-deep cognizance of the Celestial Grimoire and its offered ability, was irrefutable proof of my circumstances. I was in Brockton fuckin' Bay.

My lips, chapped from the briskness of the air, began to twitch. A crooked grin, looking decidedly out of place on my otherwise ashen and horrified face, forced the dryness of my lips to crack from the sudden movement. I barely tasted the small amount of coppery blood, too busy staring out into nothingness.

A hollow chuckle erupted from my throat. "Hah!"

"Hehehe… what the fuck…"

"HAHAHAHA!"

A scant few minutes later, when a homeless old man wandered into the rundown part of the park where the choked cackling originated from, he would see a shirtless black teenager in dirty pants collapsed backwards on a moldy wooden bench, holding his stomach and giggling, even as tears ran in rivulets down his face.

Disturbed and cautious, the old man would slowly and stealthily leave.

I was, admittedly, embarrassed by my sudden breakdown once the panic and crying ceased.

I'd never been the type to fold or crack under pressure - rather, I tended to snark and snipe back until whatever pressed me was either sufficiently cowed or twisted to my benefit. I guess being kidnapped by some godlike being and placed in a death world - or what would eventually become one - was enough to crack even my emotionally-dulled brain. Now, though, with my tears successfully dried and my heart no longer hammering against my sternum, I was calm enough to approach things logically.

Or, as logically as I could with a significant lack of information and resources.

First thing to think about was my new identity here on Earth Bet. I'd thrown the stinky wallet away already, keeping the loot, and I stared down hard at the State ID. The name checked out, and so did the height and weight; Jason Black, 5'11", weighing a whopping 160lbs. My face, however, younger than the 25 years I remember being, stared impassively back at me from the upper left corner. I looked about the same as I did back when I was 17 - warm brown skin, high cheekbones, a brooding glare, stoic features… handsome if you found 'resting bitch face syndrome' attractive, I guess. I'd gotten better at smiling in my later years, but back then with my undiagnosed neurodivergency, it had honestly felt like the world and my own mind was against me - hence the lack of care in appearing normal and happy.

Medium length black dreadlocks were messily pulled out of light brown eyes, and I spotted the same silver stud piercings in my younger self's ears that I had as an adult. A quick glance downwards showed that my tattoos had transitioned over as well.

I let out a huff. "Making me seventeen again like my name's Zac Efron won't make up for the rest of this shit," I said dryly, glancing up at the peeking sunrise. If I had to guess, I would say that morning rush was just starting - so probably around 7 AM, give or take a few minutes. All I had on me was a lighter, a twenty dollar bill, my ID card, and a dirty pair of crocs. If the note was to be believed, and I sure as Hell believed it now, then I also had a potentially multiversal-level power compendium just chilling in my soul, but I wasn't sure if that was a bag I wanted to open up and delve into in the middle of a park with no shirt on.

For better or for worse, this was my life right now, and whining about the shitty end of the stick had never been my type of rodeo. Ignoring the anxiety that urged me to sit back down and curl back up beneath the fallen newspaper, I stood to my feet and briskly made my way towards the stretch of buildings I could see in the direction of the park's exit.

'First thing's first,' I narrowed my eyes, wincing inwardly as the cold made itself known again, 'Find a fuckin' hoodie. Does Earth Bet have Goodwill?'

Twenty minutes later found me scrounging around the dumpsters of some random mom and pop shop that looked like it had those creepy ass mannequins on the inside.

I couldn't really see through the barred windows, and seeing as the sign said they were closed until 9 AM, I figured they probably had something warm out back. The sun was pretty clear in the sky at this point, spilling light haphazardly across the dusky alleyway I was occupying, and my hackles were fucking raised. It wasn't like I'd forgotten that I was in Brockton Bay, and though my knowledge of the plot was faulty at best, I, at the very least, knew quite a bit about the setting itself. It was basically a shitty Gotham, with a shit-ton of superpowered and crime-committing assholes living in it, and if I didn't get a jacket and find a place to hole myself up in order to gain my bearings… well, I was probably screwed.

I could handle myself in a fist-fight, sure; against someone unarmed and around my size or smaller. Superpowers or switchblades kinda tipped the balance way out of my favor.

My hand slid across something warm, dry, and distinctively cotton-like, and I grinned triumphantly as I pulled a navy blue hoodie out of a dingy cardboard box. It seemed relatively new, there was no real scent to it outside of the slight mildew tinge, and most important of all… it was fucking warm. I immediately pulled it over my head without any further hesitation, tossing the hood up and cinching the drawstrings.

I sighed quietly, stuffing my hands in the pockets of the large hoodie and casually making my way out of the alleyway. A well-dressed elderly couple was making their way down the sidewalk when I emerged from the darkness of the alley, and I studiously ignored the way the woman jumped and the man wrapped his arm tighter around her waist. To be fair, I was pretty stinky and ragged. And homeless. Fuck.

"Yo, hold on," I called out to the two once it was clear that they were going to speed walk the rest of the way to their destination. At the dry gruffness of my voice, I swallowed harshly and took a step forward. I just needed information, honestly. Anything that could help me adjust. "Just real quick, I promise. I just wanna-"

"Ask for money?" They'd stopped, at least, but the man looked at me with very thinly veiled disgust. "You sure you wanna be doing that here of all places?" He looked me up and down, a sneer curling at his lip, and his wife pulled lightly on his arm with a quiet murmur of 'leave it be'.

"I don't need your money," I started again, my voice going cold and monotonous with the sudden burst of heated anger in my chest. It was pretty clear where the man's disrespect was stemming from. "Just some directions."

Before the man could open his mouth, his wife patted his hand and took a step forward. Not any closer to me, but just enough to not be hiding in the bigger man's bulk. Her voice was carefully polite when she spoke to me. "That's fine," she said slowly, condescendingly. "Where do you need directions to?" My frown deepened.

What did I want to know? My current situation was horrible, sure, but not straight up dire. I had no intentions or desire to go wailing to the PRT about what the icky sicky God did to me, mainly because I had no fucking clue what they would do to me. As far as I was aware, I had no Corona Pollentia. The Celestial Grimoire was something embedded much deeper than my brain, and who knew what the government of this world would do if they knew about the multiversal magics just chilling in my soul?

No, until I could learn more about this world and make decisions independent of fear and confusion, I was staying the Hell away from the PRT… or any other capes in general, to be honest. There was no conflict driving me - no innate need to fight or prove my dominance. That was good, because right now, I just needed… -

A sudden lurch in my gut interrupted my thoughts, hooking around an ability significantly smaller than the previous one, but no less useful.

Spoiler: Sorcery - Force of Spirit (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP)

Some people possess a raw, unbridled charisma that seems almost supernatural. With this ability, there is no "almost." An expenditure of magical energy can briefly improve your social skills, at least for a single task.

As it wrapped around the ability, I felt this inner urging, asking me whether or not I wanted to accept it. Excitement temporarily warred with caution at the thought of suddenly obtaining magic, even one as benign as a charisma boosting spell. Questions sprouted in my head immediately - where would this magical energy come from? Would I get other more basic sorceries from the World of Darkness with this purchase, or just the one ability? Which, from what I could vaguely remember from my previous Vampire: The Masquerade sessions, was pretty fucking useful once you got knuckle-deep in it.

I couldn't think for too long, however, seeing as the woman was still looking up at me expectantly, waiting for a response.

Without another thought, I accepted the power and immediately felt it settle within my body, alongside a small pool of… something in the back of my head. Mana, perhaps? Regardless, drawing upon the ability felt intrinsic and instinctive. I flexed the mana that felt like a shallow, yet crystal clear pool, and called upon my first ever ability.

It felt like an egg yolk broke over my brow, and liquid gold coalesced around my tongue. I found myself smiling a bit more genuinely, in a way that brought attention to the youthful boyishness of my face. It felt unnatural to do so, and it was only the knowledge that it was the sorcery doing it that stopped my wariness in its tracks.

"Shelter, ma'am," I said quietly, just as the man was about to butt in aggressively at my silent staring. I tilted my head slightly to the right, scratching at my cheek and giving her a sheepish grin. Fortunately, my teeth were still white and straight, and they almost seemed to gleam as I lightly scuffed the tip of my croc against the sidewalk. "Just a place to breath and rest, and maybe eat a lil' bit too. It's been a really shitty week, after my pops kicked me out and everything. Something 'bout lay-offs and me being old enough to survive. He was drunk so I wasn't able to catch too much."

Half of that bullshit story was me just being a naturally good liar, truth be told, but the other half was definitely little nudges from my power, hinting at ways to mess around with the old woman's heartstrings and come off as more affable and honest. Supernatural charisma was apparently no fucking joke. I wasn't getting much from the man, though, so I figured he was a bit of a lost cause.

The old lady stepped fully out of her husband's shadow, concern now lining her fair face as she seemed to look me over a second time. Light brightened her previously cool eyes, and she easily ignored the dirt and grime of my appearance as she grabbed both of my hands in her own. "Oh, you poor boy! You've been out on your own for a week now? And you're so thin… Harold, he-"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard the boy." The older man gave me a disgruntled glare, and my cheek twitched in anger. Boy sounded awfully less nice coming out of his mouth. "What, so you wanna know where the soup kitchen is, kid?" He snorted, crossing his arms over his barrel-like chest.

"Good luck. Those lines are always long and crazy. Winter's not a good time to be out on the streets."

I shrugged my shoulders, glancing down at the mousy woman still gripping my hands. She didn't seem very intent on letting them go, still giving her husband the puppy dog eyes.

"I can handle a bit of crazy. If you could point me in the right direction, though, that would be nice." Her gaze returned to mine, and I had a feeling that I could probably push a little bit more. My sheepish grin returned. "I don't got much, but I could pay you for the address-"

"No." The woman immediately shushed me, letting go of my hands and reaching into her purse. Her face was stormy and defiant as she glared back at 'Harold' and stopped him from speaking with one steely look. She quickly extracted five crisp ten dollar bills and placed them firmly in my hand, alongside a used receipt that she messily scribbled something on the back of. "The soup kitchens are packed, but you might have better luck at the shelter. It's quite a walk from here, but I have Bible study with one of the owners, Maxine - I'll give her a call and let her know to be expecting you."

I blinked, a warm feeling pooling in my chest at the sudden kindness. I knew that it was purely due to the sudden arrival of my sorcery, improving my persuasiveness and charisma, but it still felt nice to be fussed over by a nice older lady. The appreciative smile that lit up my face was much more genuine than the last. "Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this helps," I said 'breathlessly', pocketing both the money and the receipt.

"Don't thank me, sweetie; you seem like a good kid. Just try to get off the streets and live a decent life," she responded kindly, patting me on the chest. Before I could go to respond, her husband finally seemed to have had enough and reached forward to firmly wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"That's enough, Clara! We've got reservations and we're already running late." He groused, physically guiding the much smaller lady away. I spied a cheeky smile on her lips before her back was to me, though.

Before she could be pulled out of immediate earshot, I quickly called out, "It was nice meeting you, Ms. Clara. I'll pay you back!"

She didn't respond, but it's not like I'd expected her to. I simply watched them walk away down the sidewalk, heading deeper into the hustle and bustle of morning-time Brockton Bay. Force of Spirit was still active, though I felt like turning it off was as simple as turning it on - simply willing it to happen. I had no idea how long it stayed active for, but that was resolved by just counting down the seconds on my way to…

I fished the receipt out of my pocket.

" Walk By Faith…? Sounds kinda kooky," I sighed, reading back over the address. Religiousness aside, I didn't recognize the street name or the zip code, but I did note the 'Downtown' portion written at the top - and, considering the fancy buildings and storefronts around me, I was pretty sure I was already Downtown. Simply walking the streets and checking the street-signs would hopefully be enough to find my way to my destination.

And, once I was finally there? Well… I would get to that when I got to it. I'd always been more of a 'figure it out on my feet' kind of guy. For now, just having a relatively safe place to sit, go over things, and stay relatively warm and clean was enough for me. I'd never had to deal with homelessness before, and that unfortunately meant that I was ill-equipped to handle it gracefully.

I also felt like I was forgetting some very important things about Brockton Bay - and Downtown in particular. It was disconcerting. Maybe a few hours of soul searching would help jog my - admittedly - shit memories of Worm.

Still, fifty dollars richer and with an actual goal in mind, I was feeling somewhat confident and tentatively eager to see what abilities the Celestial Grimoire had in store for me next.

Pocketing the receipt once again, I squared my shoulders and headed the opposite direction that the old couple went.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Sorcery - Force of Spirit (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP) - Some people possess a raw, unbridled charisma that seems almost supernatural. With this ability, there is no "almost." An expenditure of magical energy can briefly improve your social skills, at least for a single task.

Spoiler: A/N

Yooo, what's up! Not much to say here; I wanted to try a Celestial Grimoire story, so here it is. I've been pretty busy with life recently, but I hope to write for my other stories once I get the time and motivation.

I'm doing 100 CP per 1k words, and I'll do a roll every 2000 words. The formula's a bit fucked in the first chapter because I wanted to do a roll pretty early for dramatic effect, so it'll be on course next chapter.

Let me know what you wanna see our boy get up to in Brockton Bay.

Chapter 2

Turns out that Ms. Clara wasn't kidding when she said that the shelter was 'quite a walk'.

No street signs I looked over referenced 'Monroe Ave.', so I had to just keep walking in hopes that I'd find that one fateful sign. I wasn't the best when it came to geography, especially the geography of fictional cities I vaguely remembered reading fanfiction about, so it was very relieving when I stumbled across a bus stop fifteen minutes after I began my aimless trek. The little sitting area was pretty dirty and had dried puke on the plastic, but beggars couldn't be choosers and I was, unfortunately, quite the fucking beggar.

I had to share the bus stop with another streetrat - some quiet Asian chick in a baggy, electric blue letterman jacket and cargo pants - but she had earbuds in and didn't seem like she wanted to converse, so I left her be. I had other shit to deal with, anyway; like the myriad of thoughts roiling through my brain and threatening to send me straight into a migraine. Stress tended to do that to me.

'Alright,' I sighed mentally, leaning back on the bench and closing my eyes. The girl beside me was focused entirely on the cracked screen of her phone, so I felt pretty safe in letting my attention wane for a bit. 'We're doing this. All bullshit aside, this is not some shitty prank or dream. I'm in Brockton Bay, USA, and I'm about to hit up a homeless shelter.' Unbidden, a snort bubbled out of my chest. The hysterics were over, though, replaced by stoic - if frustrated - acceptance.

Eyes still closed, I began tapping my index finger lightly on the cool metal at the back of the bench. 'I haven't had to deal with shit like this before, but I can adapt. What do I know about the Celestial Grimoire…?' Unfortunately, not a lot. The writing prompt had popped up a few times over my years of reading self-indulgent fanfiction online, but I'd never gotten hooked in by the premise. It was a slow ramp-up, if I remembered correctly - over time, you began to amass points, or 'charges', that would attempt to claim a magic-based power from the Celestial Grimoire.

How often that happened was anyone's guess, though. It seemed completely random. The first time was when I was panicking and in denial about being sent to Worm, and the second was when I was attempting to-

"Do you mind?" A voice, low and feminine and decidedly smoky, pulled me out of my thoughts. Frayed nerves had me jerking upwards almost immediately, my eyes opening to meet the incredulous dark stare of my benchmate.

"What?"

"The tapping," she deadpanned, a bemused edge coloring her stoic voice as she peered at me through strands of greasy black hair. "You got ADHD or something?"

As soon as she mentioned it, my finger ceased its quiet, rhythmic tapping. Gone were the days where I was ashamed or embarrassed about my little quirks, but I still had the grace to offer a slight smile that didn't reach my eyes. Niceties and politeness, right? "Something like that. Sorry if it," I glanced down at her phone, and the fake smile twisted into a wry smirk, "Interrupted your Subway Surfing."

The colorful little app wasn't the same one I remembered, but it was close enough - a platforming timewaster that didn't require much mental power.

The girl absorbed my easygoing sarcasm with startling casualness. "I was getting close to a high score when you started drumming, so I paused it. Didn't wanna fuck up my run." Her voice was definitely not what you'd expect from a five foot nothing Asian teenager, almost seductive in its low timbre, but audiophilia wasn't one of my kinks so it didn't get more than an eyebrow raise from me.

The banter felt like familiar grounds, though. I could feel my hackles lowering. "Wouldn't want to ruin your chances at professional mobile gaming." I chuckled, my head tilting slightly to the right as I studied the girl. She was probably a little bit older than my current age - 18, maybe - with a cute face that was only held back by clear signs of malnutrition and sleep deprivation. If I had to guess, I'd say that she'd been living on the streets for a few months, but it wasn't like I was the premier consultant for homeless teens.

Her face scrunched up cutely during my analysis, and she wiggled away ever so slightly. "You got a staring problem too? Jeez…"

I blinked, shaking my head. "Nah, I kinda just zoned out." This was the first conversation I've had in Brockton Bay with someone relatively cool and close to my age, and I had no intentions of fucking it up. Funnily enough, that meant squashing my almost instinctive urge to slide in a flirtatious one-liner at the end of my last sentence. I doubt that's what a paranoid and lonely girl on a street corner wanted to hear from a stranger. "Sorry, shit's just been… crazy lately. Really crazy. My name's Jason."

I briefly entertained the thought of casting Force of Spirit, just for the added insurance, but I almost immediately threw the thought away. There was no way I was relying on that shit to talk to a normal teenage girl. Talk about pitiful.

Fortunately, the girl saw something honest in my expression - or lack thereof - because she slowly nodded her head in understanding. "I figured it was something like that. The name's Cassie," she inched closer again, her brows furrowing as she peered closer up at me. "I'm guessing you're not used to being…"

The girl gestured outwards with pale hands.

I arched an eyebrow. "Alive?"

"No, smartass, homeless. You look like a noob - who the Hell wears pink and blue crocs during Winter, anyway?" She knife-hand pointed at my dirty crocs, which I'd put in sports mode prior to my finding the bus stop.

I felt myself grow defensive even before my mouth opened. "Yo, relax on the crocs! It's what-" I was wearing before God decided to fuck me in the ass. "I was wearing before my dad kicked me outta the house. Haven't found much better over the past week…" Might as well stick to the story and follow it through 'till the end. It was better than saying I was dimensionally displaced by some random asshole in the multiverse.

"Right," Cassie muttered with a distasteful glare towards my shoes. "Well that sucks, but take it from me - you can't let sentimentality stop you from being practical. Being out on the streets in Brockton Bay isn't… fun. Not that I'm saying you're treating it lightly, but still."

I knew what she was saying, even if she was finding it difficult to put into polite words. "I get it, don't worry," I sighed, giving the girl a crooked smile. "I'll try to keep that in mind next time I see an old, defenseless hobo with size 12's."

That one actually got an unlady-like snort of laughter out of the severe-looking girl. When her giggles abated, she fixed me with a faux serious glare. The slight warbling on the corner of her lips betrayed her lingering amusement. "Not funny. Homeless abuse is actually a big fucking problem here." As she spoke, the amusement almost immediately bled away into a somber seriousness that was tinged with anger.

Her phone was left forgotten on her lap, the pause screen blinking away into darkness as sleep mode activated.

It was obvious where she wanted to take the conversation, and I had to know what I was getting myself into, so I took the very obvious hook and tugged on it. "Let me guess - the gangs aren't the biggest fans of the homeless population?" It made sense with the vision I had of the criminals. With fuckers like Lung trafficking humans and actual fucking Nazis on the loose, what was a bit of hobophobia?

Cassie shook her head, however, her eyes wide and serious as she gestured with her hands. "You'd think so, right? Yeah, some gangster assholes beat up on the homeless to feel better about themselves, but a lot of the time it's worse. Like, kidnapping, inducting, testing experimental shit - if it's something fucked up and easily accomplished on the hungry and downtrodden, they probably do it." Her face, already pale from both the cold and hunger, seemed to grow even paler at her own words.

I let out a breath. "Not saying you're lying," I began cautiously, my finger drumming a quiet beat on the bench once again, "But how do you even know this?" I had a sinking feeling, but a voice in my head whispered that the odds were way too low. For one, Cassie seemed relatively put together for all intents and purposes. Secondly, I'd already guessed that she had only been on the streets for a few months.

That sinking feeling, however, sunk deeper when the Asian girl simply smiled emptily. I wasn't a mind-reader, but the answer was pretty fucking cut and dry purely by that blank stretch of emptiness that took over her expression for the swiftest of moments. I got chills, and it wasn't from the brisk January morning.

"Just trust me on it." Her voice held an edge of warning, but I didn't know what for.

So I just let it be.

"'Ight."

Cassie and I quickly brushed over that tense subject and returned to mostly inane conversation. I, feigning ignorance and home-bodiness, quizzed her about the different gangs and groups around the Bay, and she turned out to be a veritable treasure trove of information. Whether or not that information was accurate and unbiased remained to be seen, but what I did learn helped settle some of the deja-vu and lingering anxieties that had been plaguing me since I woke up here.

Brockton Bay had nazis. This, I already knew, but where the nazis roosted was a fact that I didn't know. According to Cassie, the Empire 88 skinheads claimed Downtown as their main territory, and the PRT was no closer to kicking them out on their ass now than they were when the assholes first solidly established themselves. I basically spawned in the middle of anti-black territory, and I hadn't even realized it. That had me inwardly freaking the fuck out and jumping at shadows, but I couldn't exactly bring myself to panic with a baddie sitting beside me so I stifled the majority of the freak out.

It wasn't like the other parts of the Bay were much better. You had the ABB in the Docks, the Asian gang spearheaded by a shadow clone spawning ninja and roided up American Dragon Jake Long, and a group of heroin-addicted plague bearers who flitted between the different territories like rats. The less said about Coil and his army of private mercenaries, the better. I didn't have even the faintest clue on how to deal with his particular brand of bullshit.

Sure, I already knew about the major gangs from my own readings, but it was… different, hearing an actual Brockton Bay civilian's opinion and description of what used to just be scary names on a screen to me.

Our conversation was momentarily put on pause when the bus actually came nearly thirty minutes later, and it resumed - centered around less dangerous topics - shortly thereafter, in quiet voices, at the back of the bus.

"I'm telling you, those homeless shelters aren't worth it Jason," Cassie hissed quietly at me, the spunky girl gripping tightly onto the sleeve of my navy hoodie. I'd noticed a while back that she was quick to grab and jostle onto me, but common sense tempered my now teenage brain's hormonal response and introduced the fact that she was probably just touch-starved, being homeless and everything. Most people probably avoided her, and she probably avoided most people.

I didn't let that influence my decision, though.

"This old lady said she'd put in a nice word, get me a bed and some amenities." I responded, equally as quiet. We'd been on the topic for a couple minutes, and it didn't seem like her stance was going to change. "I trust her word." Mainly because I'd used sorcery bullshit to persuade the location out of her gnarly old hands, but still.

"Last 'religious shelter' I stopped by had us burning bible pages in barrel fires, Jason. It's never as easy as 'get me a bed and some amenities'." Her voice, already low and appealing, deepened into a husky purr as she narrowed her eyes and imitated my accent.

It was amusing, but I was trying to stay serious and persuade her to come with me, so I-

… Felt a tug in my stomach, and it was pulling on a pretty sizeable one.

"… Hey, Jason. Yoo-hoo." Cassie's voice trailed off concerningly as she waved a small hand in front of my face, but I was already zoning her out to focus in on the ability the Celestial Grimoire was beginning to reel in.

Spoiler: Heroic Aptitude (Legend of Zelda: Four Swords - 400 CP)

When Link's adventure started, he was like an egg, waiting to hatch into a proper hero. It was through the tests of courage put forth by the Great Fairies that he was able to become a true hero, and through his storming of the Palace of Winds, defeating of Vaati, and rescuing of Zelda that he became the greatest of heroes.

Like him, you grow from adversity and challenge. Even if you were but a simple lad, a young boy who only barely counted as a knight, you could find yourself growing far more skilled and deadly as you conquer the challenges set before you. From simple skill with the sword to the complicated use of various items such as bombs and boomerangs, from clever use of the mind to conquer puzzles and leading a team to having what most might consider a gifted skill with a mystical weapon, you shall find yourself rapidly advancing in all these and more as you face challenges that test you to your limits.

The harder the challenge, the greater the gain, and should you find yourself on a quest such as Link's, facing tests of courage in dangerous locations against hordes of monsters to prepare you to rescue your love from a mighty and ancient demon lord… you could go from unknown zero to legendary hero in no time at all.

All you have to do is survive the path ahead.

With my newest friend still speaking to me, I didn't have much time to come to a decision - but neither did I feel as if I needed to spend more time thinking over it. Link was a fucking badass, and a paragon of virtue and strength. If this gave me even a fraction of his potential, it was worth its absolute weight in gold - and I knew, intrinsically, that I had enough charges to grab it.

As I accepted my newest ability into my embarrassingly small pool, it felt like putting on a toasty new pair of socks - just right.

"-oblem if you just zone out like that." Cassie was saying quietly, a concerned look on her face. A couple other passengers were looking in our direction as well, but I ignored them in favor of focusing on the girl in front of me.

"Sorry, what?" I scratched my cheek, still a bit distracted by the warm feeling of… heroism? Greatness? Settling into my soul. It was almost impossible to describe in words.

"What the fuck?" The girl leaned back, her hands letting go of my sleeve in favor of giving me a probing look. I forced myself to come down from the high feeling, recognizing her perturbation for what it was… she probably thought I was crazy. Or on some kinda drug. Despite having met each other roughly an hour ago, it wasn't like we fully knew each other or our life stories. I'd be plenty weirded out if my vagrant traveling companion was zoning out for a full sixty seconds in the middle of conversation.

I could've told her a little bit, maybe. Say that I was a Cape and part of my abilities involved me zoning out for 30-120 seconds as I played with little motes of powers in my soul… but something really deep inside of me told me that that would be an incredibly stupid idea. In addition to the fact that there were more than a couple skinheads lurking on the bus, stealing glances at the clearly POC teenagers hanging near the back, something told me that other things were possibly listening in too. Like maybe the giantess angel alien bitch lurking in the stratosphere.

Speaking of being watched, though - I chanced a dry smirk, glancing in skinheads' direction out the corner of my eye. Three bald headed men, one big and beefy and the other two closer to my height, blatantly sneering at us from across the bus. They weren't even sitting down, doing the truly masculine thing and gripping the rails and weathering the bus's jostling. 'Yeah, I see you assholes.' I just hoped that they fucked off before we got to our stop.

My mind was made up, however. I wasn't revealing shit right now - not until I had a better explanation than soul magic.

So… diversion time.

I churned the mana pool in my core - if mana cores were even a thing - and internally activated Force of Spirit. From what I could tell, it wasn't as much of a spell as it was an… active power? Like activating a class feature in D , rather than actively casting something with somatic or verbal components. Fortunately, that meant that it was silent and, hopefully, hard to detect.

The charisma boost was immediately apparent, but this time I tried to rein it down and control it, rather than let it control me. Already, I could feel my empathy working overtime, giving me subtle hints on how to handle the uncomfortable girl in front of me. She needed reassurance, that much was obvious, but giving her a little bit to work with and chew on while playing up my already mysterious bad boy vibe would help just as well.

The power wasn't only internal and perception-based either, though. It affected the focus of my charisma as well, if only slightly - something I needed to keep an eye on intensely. Cassie was still antsy beneath my lidded stare, but I could see some of the discomfort fading into nervousness. It was enough to almost make me crack a grin.

"Relax," I sighed quietly, leaning back in the stained and bumpy bus seat and gesturing for her to do the same. She eyed me suspiciously, but only a moment passed before she forcibly relaxed her shoulders and leaned back beside me. Her questioning gaze didn't simmer, however.

"Cool, now firstly…" I paused, feigning a look of inner turmoil, as if I was thinking how best to formulate my words. Feigning such looks weren't new to me - I spent most of my life masking and faking reactions that most people did naturally, and this was as much me as it was my power guiding my actions. "I'm not on drugs, Cassie. C'mon now."

An explosive, stressful breath burst from the Asian girl's mouth, and I tried not to hold the unfortunate scent against her. "I mean, can you blame me? Meet enough… 'friends' on the streets and you start to wonder, no matter how nice they seem." Though her voice was its usual low and smoky sass, Force of Spirit pinged the dejection there. Fear? She was scared I was another freak that she'd have to flee from at the next stop.

Homelessness truly fucking sucked.

It was probably too soon, but with how handsy she was I felt it would only help the situation. Smoothly, I laid my much larger hand on top of her own, the warmth of my body immediately contrasting her clamminess. Instincts had her pulling back instantly, and I let her arm retreat without breaking eye contact. I didn't blink when she slowly, timidly, crept her hand back into mine.

"I get it. I know I'm a… 'noob' at this whole street rat thing, but I don't plan on wasting away popping mollies or getting drunk." I narrowed my eyes, seriousness - genuine seriousness - deepening the youthful lines of my face. "Sometimes I kinda just zone out and think about shit. How to handle the next steps. Where to go. What to do. It helps keep me focused on the task at hand. And right now, I'm tryna figure out how best to…"

My eyes cut harshly to the left, in the direction of the skinheads, and I pinched the back of her hand when she went to blatantly look in their direction.

"Ow! Why the-"

"Look slowly, Cassie. They look anything like law-abiding citizens to you?" I leaned in to whisper this, making it seem more like a boyfriend whispering sweet nothings to his dirty hobo gf, but I kept an eye out in my peripheral. They were glaring now, and one was texting on his phone.

Cassie apparently saw them too now, because the hand in my grip suddenly squeezed the ever living shit outta me. The sudden quivering definitely wasn't from the cold. "Shit. Shit! How long have they been watching us?"

I gave her a wry smile. "I noticed it like ten minutes ago, but they were probably staring for longer."

"Fuck. We need to get off soon. In a public spot - preferably near a mall or something. This is their territory, so they'll probably still follow, but…"

"Vagrancy 101, huh?" I chuckled, but Cassie clearly didn't share in my amusement judging by the thin-lipped scowl she shot me. I sighed again. "How about we head to the religious cult you seem so afraid of. I doubt they can beat up the entire homeless community in Downtown Brockton."

Her hackles were raised again, but not enough to ward off my sorcery. I could see her chewing through her options in her head, eyes closed and forehead wrinkled. Maybe I needed to prod at it a little bit more?

"Come on, Cass. I don't know about you, but I'm not tryna go at this completely alone. Let's just check it out, get some food, and if the vibe's not there we dip."

She exhaled again, and when she opened her eyes, there was steel there that the awareness of the skinheads had previously melted down. Judging by the sardonic quirk of her lips, I wasn't doing too good of a job at hiding my relief, but she opted to not comment on it.

"Screw it then, let's go meet your benevolent saviors," Cassie breathed, jerking her head to the side and throwing a glance out the window. Something she saw clearly kicked her into high gear, because she was immediately jumping to her feet and pulling me up after her. "Monroe Avenue, right?"

"Yep." I popped the P, hustling behind her as she began marching down the aisle at a brisk pace. As we passed by the clear Empire 88 goons, I tried not to let anything show on my face, even when I heard them move to follow behind us. We'd probably have to leg it to the shelter.

Cassie didn't spare them a glance, too busy waving her arm and calling out, "Hey, bus driver! Let us off here!"

Thankfully Cass had the four dollars we both needed for bus fare, and within seconds of her loudly stopping the bus we were out into the streets of Brockton Bay once again - only this time, there was a destination in mind and a burning fire in our guts to reach it before we were stabbed or shot. Force of Spirits still had a few minutes left on its duration - I'd discovered that it lasted for about ten minutes - but somehow I doubted that the racist bigots behind us would be swayed by a homeless black teen waxing poetically about equality and peace. We moved briskly down the street, refusing to turn the stalking into a full-on high speed chase.

Just like slobbering dogs, thugs escalated when you showed them fear.

"This is the Southside then, huh?" I murmured to myself, walking with my hands stuffed in the pockets of my warm, ill-gained hoodie. Sure enough, the buildings here were less… shiny than the Northside - less skyscrapers, for sure. Whereas Northside held a lot more stores and business buildings, this part of Downtown seemed residential. Traffic slowed to what felt like a much more sinister crawl, and the population thinned substantially. Sure, there was the occasional hobo on the sidewalk or citizen wandering to and from their apartment, but there were also more gang tags and busted up windows.

I shifted uncomfortably. This felt off.

"This feels weird, Jason…"

Cassie clearly felt it too. I ignored the coolness of her hand reaching into my hoodie pocket and gripping my warm one, instead chancing a glance backwards to check on our tails.

They… weren't there.

I froze, my heart going from 0 to 60 in one point four seconds. Fear coalesced around my mind, but something in me rebelled against the very human desire to panic. I also felt a tug in my soul, and inwardly, I was hoping beyond fucking hope that my fishing line caught something useful for getting the fuck out of dodge. "Cass, hold on."

The asian girl was jolted back mid-step due to my abrupt stop, and turned with an annoyed and fearful scowl in order to answer me - only to stop when her eyes wandered slightly to the left of my head and realized the same thing I saw. Whatever stopped the panic inside me - probably my Heroic Aptitude - clearly had no hold in her soul, because she almost immediately let go of my hand and darted away. Only my quick reflexes allowed me to grab her wrist in turn and pull her closer. "Chill! If they slipped away and wrapped around, they probably know where we're going. You were right - coming here was dumb." I definitely felt stupid, but already I was trying to come up with ways to get out of this.

In her defense, Cassie reined her panicking in pretty fast. Breathing faster and sweating dirt tracts down the side of her face, the girl rotated a full 360, her dark eyes narrowed and glaring as she looked for gang bangers that just weren't there. "Fuck, okay. Alright, we can handle this. I don't know these alleys, but they're probably waiting closer to the shelter to grab us. We can just-"

"Go the other way?" I asked, shaking my head. "One of 'em was texting on his phone. They're probably tryna box us in their neighborhood."

"What, so you wanna keep going to that shelter? We don't even know which building it is. Who's to say they're not fucking in on it?!"

Ice ran through my veins. That nice old lady… she wouldn't have, right? Fuck, would she have even known? "The alternative is to turn around and get ambushed on our way out." She still looked unconvinced. A brief glance inwards showed that my charisma buff had already run out, and even if it hadn't, I wasn't too sure on the intelligence of forcing her to go my way if coming here was already a bad decision on my end.

We'd already been standing in place for a couple minutes now. We were sitting ducks, and a decision had to be made.

It was fifty fifty chance that the shelter was an actual shelter, and I… felt like we had to risk it. Better than running away for God knew how long, hoping they didn't catch up while screaming for help. Plus, something about that just rankled me the wrong way. If I was placed here, on Earth Bet, with the fucking Celestial Grimoire in my chest, I wasn't going to just flip over and take it up the ass. I didn't want to dive headfirst into danger, but a few bald racists with no powers?

'WWLD… what would Link do?'

"Just trust me on this one." I sighed, staring Cassie dead in the eyes. "Please."

Silence filled the space between us for a few seconds, and I was genuinely worried that I would have to just leave her and do my own thing. Cowardice or not, I wasn't going to risk my neck for someone I'd just met if they weren't willing to listen to reason. However, when she let out a huff and smacked herself on the cheeks with a muttered grumble of 'fucking idiot', I felt my spirit lighten. No abandoning my new hobo friend just yet it seemed.

"Fine," Cassie frowned, looking away with stormy annoyance clear on her face. "If I get killed I'm haunting the fuck outta you, just so you know."

"I don't blame ya," I replied dully, forcing myself to continue walking down the sidewalk. After a moment's hesitation, Cassie followed a few steps behind me, clearly not enthused about walking into a veritable trap. I kept my eyes peeled, though, hoping that the homeless shelter had a sign or poster or something that made it distinctive from the sleuth of near identical apartments that lined the street.

As we walked and I scanned the buildings, the Celestial Grimoire heaved again, and that ability I felt it tugging on before suddenly coalesced in my soul.

Spoiler: Weapon Magic (Undertale - 100 CP) While a Monster can learn how to wield a weapon just like a human can, Monsters can take their mastery one step further, and apply their skill at arms to their magic! With a single purchase of Weapon Magic, you can make copies of the weapon you're currently wielding and use them as projectiles, or manipulate them remotely like you would the real weapon- But they'll be magical copies, and not physical objects, so while contact will hurt your foe like a magic attack would, it's not as if you actually slashed them with a sword.

I accepted the offered mote of power, and as it floated down into my soul, I felt the technique latch on and ingrain itself inside of my being. A smirk found its way onto my face.

Yeah, I can do a lil' bit with this. I had to wonder, though - did miscellaneous objects and trash found on the side of the street count as a 'weapon'?

Spoiler: Perks Received

Heroic Aptitude (Legend of Zelda: Four Swords - 400 CP): When Link's adventure started, he was like an egg, waiting to hatch into a proper hero. It was through the tests of courage put forth by the Great Fairies that he was able to become a true hero, and through his storming of the Palace of Winds, defeating of Vaati, and rescuing of Zelda that he became the greatest of heroes.

All you have to do is survive the path ahead.

Weapon Magic (Undertale - 100 CP): While a Monster can learn how to wield a weapon just like a human can, Monsters can take their mastery one step further, and apply their skill at arms to their magic! With a single purchase of Weapon Magic, you can make copies of the weapon you're currently wielding and use them as projectiles, or manipulate them remotely like you would the real weapon- But they'll be magical copies, and not physical objects, so while contact will hurt your foe like a magic attack would, it's not as if you actually slashed them with a sword.

300 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

I've been reading your opinions, and I DO believe I'll change up the rate of perks/CP as he gets more. Sorta like a scaling thing, if that makes sense? We'll probably do milestones, so once he hits 5 perks it gets harder.

Chapter 3

The thing about the Southside residentials was the unfortunate amount of nooks and crannies nestled everywhere. If we hadn't already been tagged as prey, it would've been good for us - I'm sure dipping into one of the dozens of complexes or zipping up a fire escape in order to hide on the second floor patio of some random asshole would've been an amazing plan to stay out of trouble. The problem was, we were already in the shits. I had no idea where those goons went, and I didn't have an ability that allowed me to scout things out, so I was stuck with my very human perception… and was it too late now to say I was in need of glasses?

Unfortunately, random miscellaneous objects didn't seem to count for my newest magic. Attempting to summon a magical variant of the ID card in my pocket definitely didn't work, and I had no intentions of pushing the issue in the middle of the sidewalk beside my - tentatively labeled - muggle hobo friend. It would have to be a trial by fire, and something told me that trial would be close at hand soon.

The end of the street was coming up, and right at the corner's intersection - just before the stop sign, I could see a rundown apartment building. If not for the large, chipped white cross tied crookedly to the gate in front, I would never have noticed. We were still a ways away - maybe a couple minute's walk - but it was still close enough for me to notice the cross, even if it was a bit blurry.

It was also impossible not to notice the silence. It was a cold, uneasy silence; one that felt artificial, or forced. I glanced behind me, and noticed that the few people who were out letting their dog shit or checking their mail had gone back inside, as if they sensed the stillness in the air themselves.

"Jason," Cass elbowed my side, and I turned back around to give her a confused glance. Her brow was drawn down in concern. "Look."

I followed her line of sight, and abruptly, I felt my mouth go dry. Apparently I hadn't noticed, but there were a few people still out and about. Or, more accurately, people came out as we made our way up the street. Skinheads, for the most part - leaning against stoops, sitting on parked cars. It wasn't like a mob or something, maybe about five or six in total just watching us - which was very fortunate, because I didn't think I could handle reenacting a scene from Get Out.

I'd already seen quite a few black, asian, and even hispanic people Downtown anyway, so I knew that the gang couldn't have been that plentiful and voracious as to lynch any and all people of color on sight. This was targeted and planned ever since they saw the two of us, one black and the other pretty and Asian, seemingly searching for paradise on the back of a bus. Going to one of the few homeless shelters in the Southside must've really cinched it in.

It wasn't just us, individually. They had some sick romantic twist to their savagery. It made me fucking sick to my stomach.

"Keep moving." I commanded, but my voice was unsure even to my own ears. I gritted my teeth and wrapped my hand around Cassie's, tugging her with me. "They're not even hiding anymore. We gotta move."

"Fuck, okay. Just… fuck." I could feel her shaking, but she seemed to draw comfort from the skinship. I couldn't guarantee that we'd be holding hands throughout the entire confrontation, but if it helped her keep going then that's all I needed for now.

We continued to move down the sidewalk, this time at a much more brisk pace, and the pit in my stomach grew when one of the skinheads - this one wearing a red bomber jacket and shades - made a very obvious gesture to two of his lackeys. They weren't even that far away, leaning against a building maybe sixty or so feet up the curb, but that distance was quickly disappearing and now the two were making their way towards us.

In my peripheral vision, I could see the asshole in the jacket - who I took as their leader - gesturing to someone else on the other side of the road. They were gonna box us in.

Cassie's hand tightened on mine, and I narrowed my eyes. If I was gonna nut up and do anything, now was the fucking time. I brought her into this, and although I didn't have a lot of faith in the shelter, my gut was telling me that gang violence probably wasn't allowed on the inside. At the very least, I was hoping this 'Maxine' chick was both not racist and toting a shotgun. The two goons moving to intercept us didn't seem to be packing lead, but who knew what they had in the waistband of their jeans.

"Jason…"

"I know. Just-… just follow my lead."

They were within speaking distance now, and as they swaggered towards us with all the arrogance of two predators cornering prey, I was finally able to take in the full breadth of their ugly life choices without my short-sightedness blurring the details.

The thug on the left was big - much bigger than my average 5'11", and weighing in on the well sought-after 6'4". A big, splotchy black swastika ran up the side of his neck, curling in on his acne-scarred face and stopping a few centimeters below his scowling lips. Muscles seemed to be built on top of his muscles, but all of the beefiness lagged towards the middle, where a prodigious beer gut threatened to rip his wifebeater.

Almost in direct contrast, the smaller guy on the right looked… normal. Sure, he was bald, but there were no overt displays of neo-nazism threatening to make him a hit artist on Soundcloud. The wickedness in his eyes when he looked over Cassie, though… beefy or not, I wanted to stomp his fucking face in.

I figured I'd do the ol' 'ignore and brush past' trick, just to see if Lady Luck was watching my shitty isekai adventure with relish, but Wifebeater immediately put an end to that wish by shoulder checking me with his much broader body. I felt the wind get knocked out of me instantly, a rattling wheeze surging from my chest as I bounced backwards and nearly toppled over Cassie.

"Hey! The fuck's your problem, lard-ass?!" she yelled angrily, fear temporarily forgotten in the face of seeing me eat shit. The girl was dragging me to my feet immediately, and the only lingering evidence of her very genuine fear was the violent shaking of her hands when she grabbed onto me.

The thin thug grinned, showing a gapped row of yellowing teeth. "Oh look," he drawled, amused, "The chink is worried 'bout her star-crossed lover. 'Nuff to make a man like me cry."

I breathed slowly, steadily, forcing my lungs to take in oxygen at a normal rate. "Cheap shot." I muttered tersely, wiping my bloody hands on my sweatpants. I must've skinned them when I fell.

"What was that? 'Cause it didn't fuckin' sound like an 'excuse me', did it Mac?" The mean-eyed thug glanced over to his big partner, Mac apparently.

"Naw." 'Mac' blinked slowly, a scowl on his lips.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Say it again, boy."

God, hearing such blatant racism in modern day America felt like liquid fire being poured in my veins. Everything in me rebelled against the very thought of not swinging on the ignorant hicks. I'd swung on people in the past for less. But it wasn't just me in danger here, and I wasn't brought here with the Celestial Sledgehammer. The confrontation was right in front of me, and I had to think my way through this. My new magic was waiting patiently in my soul to be called upon, and I knew how to use it… I just needed a fucking weapon.

My eyes glanced around sporadically, searching for something sharp in a desperate fervor. My ID card hadn't worked, but it was a slip of plastic - why would it? But weapons weren't inherently metal, or even dangerous. Fucking John Wick proved that with a pencil-

"Answer me when I ask a question! Deck 'em, Mac."

I focused back on the two, eyes widening as I began to raise my hands. The big guy, Mac, was closing in fast, and I had no time to even think. Instinctively, I moved to throw a punch-

SMACK.

Heat and pain shot through my head, and for a second I was floating. My ear was ringing, my cheek felt like hamburger meat, and I swear I could feel a tooth going down my throat. What the fuck even happened? I could hear yelling, too - loud, scared, angry. It sounded like…

Cass?

I fought through the staticy white noise droning through my skull. I couldn't just fucking lay here!

"-you doing? We haven't done shit to any of you!"

"Stupid cunt, it's one thing to be on our turf. We can hardly stop alla' yous. But it's another to be interbreedin' your nastiness here too."

"W-what? We're not even together you hillbilly fuck! Leave us alone!"

Things were blurry, and vaguely, through the ringing and noises, I could hear what sounded like a metallic 'shlick'. Adrenaline pumped through my body at the distinctly familiar sound, and I forced my eyes to clear. When I did, fear shot through my heart like a bullet.

Cassie was holding a switchblade, one clearly well taken care of, and she was pointing it at the two thugs who seemed genuinely surprised at the move. The shaking of her wrist, though, was too obvious. She wasn't just scared… no, she was downright horrified. Whether it was due to being in a life or death situation, or because she was being stared down by two nazis and watched at a distance by more, I had no idea.

All I knew was that I had to do something, and she was giving me that opportunity. I reached deep within myself and activated Force of Spirit. The pull on my mana pool was noticeable, but minor.

"Don't be stupid now, girl. Put that fuckin' knife down." No one was listening to Bugs Bunny at this point, though. Cass was too scared, and I was too focused.

I must've made a noise when I snapped back to reality, because her eyes darted down towards me for a brief moment. That's when I realized that I was, in fact, eating shit on the concrete once again. "Jay! D-don't worry, we-"

Suddenly, as soon as she looked away, Mac the pudgy bulldozer began to move again, and I knew that our time window was practically nonexistent. I had to enact my shittily thought-of plan now.

My voice came out loud, clear, and commanding, causing even the thugs to hesitate for a split second at the sudden power in my tone. "Toss me the knife!"

Her eyes were wide in shock and fear, I noticed, but her body seemed to submit to my demand before her mind even had the opportunity to catch up. The switchblade was tossed my way just as Mac bodily slammed into the small girl, and the sound of something snapping in her body would probably haunt my nightmares for the next few weeks. Still, I couldn't hesitate out of fear or concern now.

I caught the knife clumsily by the blade, cutting open the palm of my hand, but that pain felt like nothingness in the face of the pure power that filled my body. I knew then, without any doubt or hesitance, how to call forth my magic. It wasn't a spell by normal mage or wizardry means… Undertale didn't work like that. It was pure magical power, through and through, and I called upon it the same way I did my other ability - by pulling directly from my mana core.

I could feel the drain immediately, like unclogging matted up hair from your shower drain, but that was fine. Magic like this probably needed precision. Bursts. I instantly deactivated Force of Spirit.

Around me, half a dozen knives of wispy, almost smoke-like gold mana formed like a magical shroud. I could feel each one, and knew that, with only a little urging from my mind, I could send them flying at my enemies. Now was not the time to think deeper on the ramifications of actually doing it, though. I'd never been squeamish about violence, and that wouldn't start now.

Eyes cold and fierce, I twisted the switchblade around in my palm and gestured towards Mac. "Go."

And my magical blades responded instantly. All six shot forward too fast for me to track, completely silent other than a graceful 'woosh' that sounded more like a bird of prey diving at a meal.

"AHHH FUCK!" The thuggish brute choked out a scream as the magical switchblades embedded hilt-deep into the side of his torso, sending him toppling over to the side and off of the groaning and dazed Cassie. I didn't have time to check on either of them, though - I was already dashing at the skinny bastard.

"… What the fuck?! Cape? CAPE! BOSS, HE-"

There were only a few feet between the two of us, and he was not in the right mindset to defend himself so suddenly. There was a brief feeling of nausea as the very real switchblade sank deep into the nazi's gut, but it wasn't like I hadn't trained for four odd years to kill for even worse reasons. I didn't hesitate to wrench the knife out and plug another hole in the bastard's chest for good measure. Warm blood squelched around the blade, drenching my hands and staining my navy hoodie with red.

"Ughhhh…" I glanced over to the sprawled mess that was the brutish nazi and a cursing Cass. She was conscious and starting to sit up, fortunately, but her ankle was fucked - that had to have been the snap earlier. Mac was still alive, and I didn't know whether or not I was happy about that. He was collapsed, groaning, and seemingly unconscious, but definitely not bleeding out. The knives had already faded from his body, leaving only singed holes in his tank top. Why the fuck was he still alive?

The sound of rushing footsteps from the street caused me to dart my head in that direction. Two thugs - the ones who the leader had gestured to a couple minutes prior - were sprinting in my direction. One hand a baseball bat clenched in his grip, and the other had…

My heart stopped.

"Get down!" I hissed at Cass, leapfrog-tackling her back to the ground as gunshots started to hit the rundown building above us. I did my best to avoid jostling the clearly broken ankle with my knee, but judging by her pained cry of 'fucker!' I clearly didn't do a good enough job. "Gettin' shot at, bear with me!"

I rolled to my side, drawing on my dwindling mana pool and conjuring another two mana-knives overhead. Fortunately Mac had tackled her behind a bit of cover in the form of a knocked over mailbox, one of those chunky blue ones, so I was still able to see the thugs well enough to send the twin golden blades darting through the air towards their faces.

In their defense, they did attempt to dodge, but it seemed like my magical weapons moved at roughly the speed of a particularly lethal arrow, meaning… they had no chance. This time, when the golden blades 'thunk'd' inside of their faces, I knew that they were dead. There was no blood, no gory display of bone and brain matter… just the mana-shaped knives peacefully going into their flesh, and them careening backwards and collapsing bonelessly in the middle of the street.

In the brief, few seconds of respite I had then, I felt my soul line snap while attempting to bring in another ability, but I had no time to worry about missed opportunities. The asshole in the red bomber was yelling animatedly into his phone while gesturing down the street towards us, and I just knew that whatever he was saying would not, in any way, bode well for me or Cass.

However, it seemed like he was the last E88 thug in the area, and I didn't like the thought of just leaving loose ends. My mana pool was the lowest it'd been so far - I needed food, water, and definitely some rest - but I felt like I had enough for a few more knives.

"Jason…" Cassie's voice brought me out of my intense observation of the leader, and I whipped my head back to look at her. She was holding her fucked up ankle, pain etched into every crevice on her face… but when she looked at me, I didn't sense any fear. I half expected her to go hobbling off crying 'murderous cape' or something, but she just seemed… sorta surprised? Grateful? It didn't matter, I had to go take care of Nazi Ring Leader #1. Now wasn't the time to second guess myself or let myself be weighed down by fear.

If I stopped now, I was scared I wouldn't get back up to fight again. I needed to keep going.

"Hold that thought, Cass. Icin' nazis right now."

"But-"

I pushed off of my knuckles and feet, going from lying on the sidewalk behind the mailbox to outright sprinting up the road. The gunshots would definitely have drawn attention, and I really didn't want to be in the area when and if more gang bangers or cops showed up. My 'action hero' meter was already filled up for the day, and it was barely 11 AM.

Weapon Magic came easier to me now, each magical switchblade draining a small amount of mana as the golden weapons hovered just over my head. One, two, three, four of them rotated in place, ready to peel off and… nonlethally kill people?

My movement didn't go unnoticed, and it wasn't like I could even be stealthy with the man watching me from the hood of what I assumed to be his Charger, parked at the top of the curb. Panic was clear in his body language now as he ducked behind his car and grabbed for something in the seat, but I was already close enough to get a bead on his location.

'I'm up, he sees me, I'm down!'

I dove behind another mailbox as the first pistol shot rang out, and stumbled more than rolled the rest of the distance behind a parked F-150. Two more shots rang out, the loud, metallic 'plink' telling me that the rounds were slamming against the front of the poor truck.

BANG.

BANG.

As soon as the pistol spat out the last bullet, I gritted my teeth, squeezed my asscheeks, and twisted out from behind cover. I lashed forward with Cass's switchblade like a fucking magical wand, forcing the mana blades hovering around me to blast forward with more speed than normal. I emptied out my already dwindling pool of magic, assured in the knowledge that it would grow stronger and regenerate from this expenditure, and was rewarded with displaced cracks of air as the magical switchblades tore through the streets with the speed of bullets.

The distance between the two of us was still pretty wide - maybe around 80 or 90 feet - but my aim didn't need to be the greatest when a simple command sent the blades flying in a straight line. I was barely able to see the result since I threw myself back into cover almost immediately, but judging by the scream of pain and lack of return fire… I assumed that I managed to land at least one of them.

'That excellent marksmanship badge has to count for something, right?' I snorted, cautiously sticking my hand out from behind the Ford. A few seconds passed and no bullets turned my arm to swiss cheese, so I tentatively stepped out from behind the bullet-ridden truck and made my way up to the nazi's Charger. It was pretty swanky - seemed modern, and the paint wasn't as bright-ugly red as the loser owner's jacket, so I had to give him a point towards car taste at the very least.

I found two of my mana blades sticking inside of the passenger door, warping the paint around them, and the other two were…

Well, they didn't actively tear into his neck and forehead at least, so all I saw was his limp body lying on the pavement with little golden switchblades embedded in the flesh. As soon as I thought about them disappearing, all of the switchblades faded away into little motes of golden mana which dematerialized into thin air.

Huh. Pretty handy. Just in case, I crouched down to check his pulse. Dead stillness met my fingers. Dead as a fuckin' doorknob.

I shook my head, brushing the thought away.

"Now for the good part…" I muttered, cinching my hoodie strings tighter so that it rode up to securely cover the bottom of my face. Satisfied that any nosy onlookers, if they decided to come outside within the next hour, wouldn't see much of my face, I began digging around the dead nazi's pockets. I didn't have much time before whoever the fuck he was on the phone with showed up, and the E88 had some really scary fuckers on their rosters - all of 'em Capes. We weren't gonna get too far on foot with Cass having a broken ankle, though, and considering the fact that ol' boy had a whole wine red muscle car just going to waste here…

"Aha!" I pulled his keys out of his jacket's right pocket, frowning minutely down at the black and red swastika attached to the keyring. A quick yank broke it off, and I disgustedly tossed it down onto its former owner's chest. Pocketing the keys, I spent a few seconds combing around the vehicle for anything overtly… nazi-like. There was another swastika hanging from the rearview mirror, and I had to toss out a mini version of Mein Kampf, but otherwise the car was pretty normal.It even smelled decent, which surprised me. I figured all nazis smelled like rotten eggs and urine.

I am not ashamed to admit that I took a moment to loot the dead dude's wallet, which had a nice few hundreds just sitting idly inside. Yoink.

When I finally cranked the bad boy up and drove down the street to pick up my crippled hitchhiker, Cassie was sitting on the side of the curb with her arms crossed and a very unimpressed frown on her face. I rolled the passenger-side window down and matched her frown with an innocent smile.

"Get in loser, we're going shopping."

Silence met my shitty reference. Hell, did they even have Mean Girls in Earth Bet? Or maybe it was my monotonous delivery-

"Jay," Cass cut through my inner monologue, struggling to stand on one leg in order to move towards the door. I moved to hop out and help, obviously, but she shook her head with a sardonic chuckle. "I feel useless enough right now, I can get in by myself - don't worry. But you know this car's probably gonna be tracked down, right?" She swung the door open and carefully lowered herself into the passenger seat, not able to hide her winces of pain whatsoever.

I gave a shrug. I knew that, of course. "We'll ditch it once we make it to a hospit-"

"No!" Cass suddenly yelled, eyes wide and wild as she jerked her head towards me. Doing so seemed to jostle her ankle, though, as she almost immediately groaned and leaned back into the leather seat. "Fuck. Sorry. Just-… no hospital, please. I'll be fine, just head towards the Docks."

I blinked, heart still beating a bit faster at the abrupt shout. "… Yeah, alright. What, you got some secret base out there? All secret-identitied up and everything?"

"…" She fiddled with her phone, pouting down at the cracked screen.

"… Bullshit." I gaped, surprise pulling my brows up into my hairline as I pulled out of Monroe Avenue and onto the slow and quiet highway.

Cassie side-eyed me, her pout stretching up into a sardonic smirk. "Yeah? And I'm guessing the whole golden lightshow was part of the reason why your dad kicked you out." The heavy dosage of sarcasm coating her words made it clear just how much she believed that theory.

"Touche." I closed my gaping mouth, returning my tired gaze to the road.

Silence descended inside the car, broken momentarily by me reaching forward to turn the heater on. It wasn't a comfortable silence, per se - not like what we had before all of the magic was thrown around and I left four dead bodies cooling before happy hour. I didn't really know where to drive in order to reach the Docks, but Cassie hadn't admonished me for missing a turn yet so I figured I was going roughly in the right direction.

I was more puzzled on why she didn't seem too… shocked by my abilities. Or by me killing those assholes. Sure, they were racist nazis who attacked first, but most human beings didn't just kill that easily. I hadn't exactly wanted to kill them myself, but they'd seen my face and didn't seem like the type to just let bygones be bygones. I'd killed before coming to Brockton Bay, and the act had never bothered me the same way it did other people. Logically, I knew why - a big part being my own mental quirks.

I just didn't expect her to be as… okay with everything?

"If you're thinking that everything's all peachy right now, you'd be wrong." Cassie's low voice sounded from beside me. I didn't glance over, opting to stay focused on the road, but the slow, rhythmic tapping of my index finger against the cheetah-printed steering wheel was evidence enough that I was listening.

"I'm not… well, I'm not a hero. Or a villain. Or a killer. I got a place in the Docks, but it's not much, and it's more of a… hideaway." She let out a few dry chuckles, and began flicking away at her cracked phone screen again. I felt like it was more of a comfort thing than anything else. Another small stretch of silence passed, before she sighed violently and spoke again, "I'm a Tinker… not that I can even do much. I can make phone apps, I guess - programs and stuff. Coding. And I can hack into things pretty easily, but in a place like Brockton Bay…"

"Yeah, a lotta places are probably on the lookout for shit like that, right?" I finally spoke up, glancing over at Cassie.

She nodded quickly, seemingly both relieved and nervous that I was taking active part in the conversation. "Yup. It's why I got, uhh…" She bit her thin bottom lip, eyes darting everywhere but my face. It only took a moment for her to muscle up the courage to finish the sentence. "I got caught up with a bad crowd, wasn't really planning on staying for too long… and figured I'd skim a bit off the top before I left, maybe help some friends out too on the way out. I r-rushed the plan, got a lotta good people fucked over."

I could practically feel the hurt in her voice as she spoke. It pulled at my empathy - or maybe that was the Grimoire attempting to reel in yet another mote of light. Regardless, I felt for her. Cassie was sorta like me, in a sense - a strong girl who tried not to let other people in too deep, because her inside was actually really soft. I wasn't a girl, and neither was my insides super soft or whatever… but the rest of it fit.

I took my right hand off of the steering wheel and silently laid it on her knee. Her small hand gripped it almost immediately after.

"People get greedy, and you were probably pretty young. Shit happens, Cass." I tried to reassure her.

Cassie shook her head stubbornly. "I was sixteen. I was young, yeah, but I should've known better. The ABB doesn't play around with their 'merchandise'." She spat the last word out like poison, and I was idly glad that this wasn't actually my car.

"Yeah, well you got a yellow laser pointer as a homie now so… ABB beware, right?" I offered her an intentionally cheesy grin, hoping to get at least one genuine smile out of the downtrodden girl now dubbed 'illegal hacker'.

Her lips warbled upwards in a facsimile of a smile, so I took that as minor success.

"You ever gonna explain that, by the way? Like, did you already have that in… 'reserve' or-"

I glanced away as the mote of light in my soul tried to worm away out of my fishing line. The Grimoire probably didn't like being ignored, and honestly, I didn't really wanna go into the origins of my magic right now anyway. If she hung around me for much longer, she'd be seeing a lot more than piss knives, and the less I had to explain away each spell the better. I doubt I could just say 'HA I'm a mage, silly cape'.

"-ason, no, you are not zoning your way outta this one you asshole-"

Spoiler: Spellcaster (Terraria - 100 CP)

Everyone who comes here may gain the potential to cast spells, but you are a cut above the rest. Your Mana Pool is twice as large, and has the potential to grow even farther, and magic that you cast is simply more potent compared to what it might be normally. Spells you cast hit harder and are harder to resist.

My lips twitched up into a smirk, and I reeled the mote of light into my soul with a speed that would make pro fishermen jealous.

"Ew, don't smirk and smolder while ignoring me. You are definitely up to something wei-"

I could feel my mana, previously running on empty and reminiscent to a small pond, suddenly double in size. Now it felt like a… medium-sized pond? But the mana within was stronger, denser, more viscous and potent as opposed to its previous thin and crisp feeling.

It wasn't an array of crazy spells or magical items, but the passive improvement was possibly more valuable than all of that.

I pulled myself out of my inner examination just as we reached a red light. Traffic was still light, with only a couple cars behind me from what I could see in my rearview mirror, but I still felt antsy. We were, so far, outta the area where all the action went down, but I probably wouldn't feel completely safe until we were out of the Downtown area completely.

I patted the silently frowning Cassie's knee once as an apology. "Sorry 'bout that… was just thinking about something again."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah? And what was more important than you answering my earnest questions and earning back my trust?"

"Lunch. You wanna grab some Fugly Bob's on the way to your place? Their leader had three hundred bucks on him." I withdrew my hand in order to reach into my pocket and toss her the crisp 'hunnids.

Cassie snorted. "Asshole. Fine, but you gotta take a right at this next stop sign."

"Aye aye."

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spellcaster (Terraria - 100 CP) Everyone who comes here may gain the potential to cast spells, but you are a cut above the rest. Your Mana Pool is twice as large, and has the potential to grow even farther, and magic that you cast is simply more potent compared to what it might be normally. Spells you cast hit harder and are harder to resist.

700 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

First scuffle didn't go too bad! For those wondering about how he is handling everything so well - in addition to the mental things going on with him from a neurological standpoint, he has Heroic Aptitude running in overdrive mode to shape him into a hero, and you don't see Link sprinting away from the first sign of danger or puking out his guts, right? Don't worry, it definitely won't be an instant thing - and you can still see the effect everything has on him.

Overall, though, Jason is someone who has dulled emotions and empathy already. He doesn't fit into the mold most people fit in, and a lot of his life was built around being negatively affected by that. As an adult, he just doesn't care to hide it anymore. Not to mention the military tends to curb a lot of shit inside of you as well.

Since this is a SI, I'm mainly going off of my own life experiences alongside a bit of embellishment for the sake of an entertaining story. He's an autistic veteran who hides his sociopathy behind a veneer of casual apathy and nonchalance. I can't wait to write him interacting with more of the cast.

Chapter 4

Admittedly, heading to a popular burger joint right after committing four person homicide wasn't the greatest of ideas.

The adrenaline rush that accompanied mortal combat had faded away completely by the time we busted out the Southside and was heading up the middle lane on Lord Street, so I shifted mental gears and opted to follow my crippled passenger's souped up GPS directly to her hideaway near the Docks. The traffic got significantly busier as we drove through the middle of Downtown, but my paranoia about speeding was pretty low considering Cassie's phone had a scanner that apparently pinged off nearby police communication devices. How the fuck she managed that through a mobile app, I had no idea, but I wasn't one to look security ungratefully upside the head.

We were just hitting 75 after yet another lane change when the passenger princess broke our companionable silence by reaching forward and click-clacking at her cracked phone screen, taking us off of her weird GPS-Scanner app. I glanced down, one hand on the wheel, and arched an eyebrow at her fiddling.

"Unless you're tryna be my IRL Siri, I kinda need to see where the blue line's takin' me." I said in a questioning tone, pumping the gas a bit to cut off some asshole trying to overtake me from the right lane.

"Don't worry Mr. Sunday Driver, it's mostly a straight shot from here. We'll probably wanna ditch the ride soon though." Cassie responded with an idle wave of her free hand, the other one scrolling down what looked like a pink and black version of Spotify - if it was made in Bizarro World. I returned my eyes to the road pretty fast, though. Safe habits; they kept me out of car crashes back on my Earth, and they would do the same here damn it.

"Easy enough. Excuse my old lady speed, though - I'm not really tryna get stopped by the cops in a dead man's Dodge Charger. Your little police scanner can't possibly pick up every mention of the word 'car' in Brockton Bay." My finger began to tap a quiet little beat on the steering wheel, even as I glanced boredly out the rearview mirror. Nothing but plain ol' cars, all heading forward and back in an endless cycle.

Cassie snorted.

"Definitely not in the entirety of Brockton, but I'm currently keyed in on mundane comms throughout this part of the Bay. Once we get deeper into the shittier part of the Docks and away from Downtown, we'll have less to worry about. But forget about that for now - what kinda music do you listen to?"

The sudden question threw me for a loop. "Depends on the kinda music you got. My taste varies."

In my peripheral vision, I could see the girl practically preen in arrogance. She looked like a colorful little bird in her bright, oversized jacket. Maybe one a bit worse for wear.

"Let's see here… I've got some Mandrake - dude's a classic in Rock n' Roll, a bit of Larry Herd… I don't really like country though. A lot of EDM, from back when I was in my techno-girl phase… don't ask about it. I've even got some unreleased tracks I managed to, uh, pick out from some popular artists-"

"You got any Lil' Wayne?" I cut her off, already tired of hearing a bunch of names that I definitely didn't know. Didn't Earth Bet follow normal history up until a certain point? I knew that GTA, at the very least, existed in this world - mainly because I'd read something about 'Uber and Leet' fucking up hookers during one of their many video game rehearsal shenanigans. Or maybe that was fanon, and I was completely incorrect. "Shit, or even some Drake. His sad fuckboy shit would be a nice balm on the morning we've had so far."

Silence enveloped the car. I didn't have to look over to know that Cassie was looking at me oddly, if not a bit offendedly due to me cutting her off. "Who the hell is 'Lil Wayne'? Sounds like a rapper or something, right? And there's a couple Drakes, but…"

Damn, they probably didn't exist here. Or maybe not yet? Fuck, I really didn't get how this shit worked. Quantum Physics wasn't my strong suit. "They're pretty underground," I sighed, exaggeratedly pointing my nose up and away from Cassie. "You wouldn't know them I guess."

"Ha!" she laughed out loud, playfully punching my shoulder. It was a testament to her significant lack of physical strength and weight that the hit didn't even budge my grip on the wheel. "Dick. I mostly listen to rock and EDM, so I guess I wouldn't."

"You can just play whatever you usually listen to. I'm mainly trying to keep an ear out for trouble. If the scanner's audio even works with music playing."

Cassie rolled her eyes, but a genuine smile still graced her face. "If it catches one of my keywords it'll stop any third party audio, dad. But thanks, I think I know just what I wanna listen to. Music… helps a lot with stress, y'know? Today's been pretty wild." Her voice got a bit quieter as she began scrolling again. An easy silence grew between us once more, before…

"And, uh, if you wanna help me try to find your 'secret underground artists' later, we can listen to them together… if you'd like."

I blinked, turning my eyes from the road ahead and looking back over at Cassie. She was markedly not meeting my gaze, but her smile - smaller but no less genuine - seemed to accentuate the slight blush on her cheeks. Or maybe the redness was from the heat of the car, because it was getting a bit toasty. Regardless, it all made for a surprisingly cute sight from the spunky hacker.

I couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, sure. It's a date."

She scoffed, her smile growing a tinge as she met my dry and lidded stare. "In your freaking dreams, jackass. Pay attention to the road."

"Mm."

She finally seemed to find whatever song she was looking for, as she clicked on a little thumbnail that showed a beach with a blue thunderbolt flashing through the sky. Immediately, the sounds of electronica began bumping through the speakers of the car - surprising, considering I didn't remember her plugging up an AUX or connecting to some sort of bluetooth.

It wasn't my type of music, to be sure, but when I noticed Cassie relaxing back in the passenger seat with her little smile, nodding her head along to the violent and eclectic beats, I figured I'd just endure the ensuing headache and pretend I liked the 'song'.

That was a very minor sacrifice for keeping that smile on her face for a little bit longer. I kinda liked how it looked.

Cassie had fallen into a deep sleep by the time we arrived into the Docks proper, and I felt pretty bad at the thought of waking her. Don't get me wrong, I would in a heartbeat if I felt like it was necessary, but with her asleep and the loud EDM music turned off I was easily able to navigate back to the GPS app. It actually wasn't that dissimilar from my old Google Maps, except it gave me a whole view of the entirety of Brockton Bay alongside a smaller subscreen with different names and buttons.

Most of them were encoded and completely lost to me, like G-1059629 or Z-5968274, but 'Brockton Bay PD' was pretty easily identified.

I turned the audio of that particular scanner up to a medium volume as I pulled off into one of the quiet side-streets that the GPS guided me towards. The area seemed pretty barren - like I remembered from the wiki, the Docks seemed to be a smorgasbord of warehouses, abandoned factories, and poorly constructed homes and apartments - though I noticed that we'd left the residential neighborhoods behind a while back.

It was starting to become midday - Cassie's phone read 4 PM, and the sun was beaming a warmth down that completely contradicted the previous frostiness of the morning. Brockton Bay seemed pretty fucking random in the weather department.

A static-like buzz brought my attention down to the phone. Moments later, a tinny, gruff voice came through the speakers, though it sounded crackly and fragmented.

"… no trace of… witnesses reported… golden… in a dark hoodie… be on the lookout for a dark red-"

The audio fizzled out again. Instincts almost had me smacking the phone until I realized that the bar beneath 'Brockton Bay PD' was probably the signal strength - and it was quickly lowering down into the red zone. We were probably far enough away from whoever was issuing the BOLO for the signal to almost completely go dead. Still, as broken as the information was, common sense told me that they probably didn't get a good look at my face and Cassie wasn't even mentioned - which was fair, considering she spent the entire fight literally lying in a broken heap on the side of the sidewalk.

The car was an issue, though, and we needed to get rid of it now.

Fortunately, we were already in what could be constituted as an abandoned side alley, and other than maybe a bit of sweat and other miscellaneous bodily fluids the car was pretty clean. I wasn't even sure if it mattered if I bled or sweated everywhere… it's not like I was a native to Worm. I had an ID card, sure, but those were easily fabricated. I sincerely doubted that they had my DNA logged anywhere in the system. I was practically a ghost, and as long as I kept my face outta view of any cameras or nosy snitches I would hopefully stay that way.

At least until I felt secure enough to reveal myself fully.

"Yo, Cassie," I reached over and prodded her cheek.

No response.

"Cass." I said a bit louder.

Nada.

I smirked, a devious thought coming to mind. I raised my voice higher, feigning shock and disgust. "HOLY SHIT, what is this browser history-?!"

"NOOO!"

It wasn't often that I genuinely laughed, but something about this entire day - and the girl I've spent it with - had me in a… different mood. Lighter, more floaty.

I released a full body guffaw as Cassie lunged forward, a broad grin curling into my cheeks as I restrained her back down with one large hand. As lean as I was, I had broad shoulders and long arms - and plus, it was purely for her benefit. I wasn't 100% certain that her fucked up ankle was broken, mainly because there seemed to be no blood or white parts sticking out, but I doubted her mad lunge for her phone would've felt good.

"Heh… calm the fuck down. I didn't go through your phone. Clearly you got a lot to hide if you're freakin' out like that, though." I chuckled, taking my hand off of her almost nonexistent chest.

She, fortunately, made no comment on the touch - too busy yanking her phone out of the console mount and cradling it against her body. Her eyes were still sleepy and blurry, but they had no issues glaring daggers. Blunt daggers, maybe, but daggers all the same.

"You can't play with a woman's privacy like that, Jason," she huffed.

I shrugged easily. "When that same woman is an accessory to murder on my behalf, I think we skip a few steps."

"Shhh, dumbass, don't say that out loud so easily! Where even are we?" Cassie stifled a yawn as she sat up straighter in the seat, a wince covering her face as the movement jostled her injured ankle.

"Check the GPS. We're in the Docks, that much I know. Some random ass alley off the side of…" I peeked over at the screen, "Burgundy Street?"

Her face lit up as she slipped the phone into her pocket. "No need to check - I know where we are. It'll take us fifteen minutes to get to my spot if we go by foot… probably longer with my bum ankle, but I don't want to get the car any closer."

"Yeah, that would be a pretty stupid idea. That's why I parked here… figured we could, I don't know… set it on fire or something?" I still had the Zippo in my pocket after all. Additionally, the fishing line in my soul was starting to loop around something… I could feel a pretty hefty charge resting in my sternum, and the Grimoire probably wanted to wane off the excess. What were the odds that my next magic would be something arson-related?

"Ew, you're starting to smirk evilly again Jason - stop it. And what the fuck do you mean set it on fire? You wanna just blow a car up in some random alleyway?!"

I wiped the drool from my lips and fixed the deadpanned Cassie with an unamused glare. "Cars don't just explode when you set 'em on fire… they smolder, burn, and smell horrible. Although the tires might burst. It'll probably gain some attention but we'll be long gone before it gets to that point. Hopefully… "

I trailed off, because the Grimoire managed to snag that elusive mote of light that almost slipped away. It was getting easier, dividing my attention between the inner workings of my soul and the outside world, so I was able to catch Cassie's next words even as I briefly surveyed the magic being offered.

"'Hopefully' is a pretty huge adverb in this situation, Jay. Wouldn't we be better off by sending it into the bay or something?" She seemed unsure, a far-cry from her usual rough bravado, but who wouldn't when talking about dumping a dead nazi's whip? I pretended to think over my response while inwardly analyzing the Grimoire.

Spoiler: Sorcery - Conveyance, One Dot (WoD: Sorcery - 100 CP)

Teleportation, flight, and other means of magically swift transportation are covered by this path.

[1] The sorcerer may transport themselves across roughly 10 feet.

Teleportation! And something else from the World of Darkness? Hell fucking yes - if there was one spell that I felt would be useful in all aspects of life, it was teleportation. Who couldn't find a use for something so utilitarian and multidimensional? Not to mention Spellcaster would probably increase the range a little bit… if I understood the ability correctly. I reeled it in quickly and efficiently, not bothered at all by the feeling of my consolidated charge growing smaller with the catch.

Shaking my head and pushing the nerdy wizard thoughts to the side, I refocused on Cassie. "Something tells me 'dumping shit in the bay' is the choice most sloppy criminals default to when tryna hide evidence, and I don't know if we wanna show ourselves, along with the car they're looking for, anywhere near a place like that right now."

She bit her lip. Thin, soft, and red, the poor girl's mouth was already looking a bit bruised from the abuse her teeth had inflicted from the stress of the day's activities. "Damn, you might be right. Okay, just… let me check something real quick. Try not to set anything on fire just yet." Still fiddling with her bottom lip, Cassie leaned back in the seat and brought her one uninjured leg up to her chest, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the half-and-half position.

It was probably an instinctive comfort thing though, because she was almost immediately sucked into her own world, click-clacking on her phone once again. I didn't want to interrupt whatever the fuck she was doing, so I decided to just pull the car further up into the alley near a couple of overfilled dumpsters. The alley wasn't a deadend, but the street on the other side seemed just as quiet and desolate as the one behind so I tried not to let it make me paranoid. If anyone was snooping around and watching, I felt like I would've been able to spot 'em by now. Unless they were pulling a Batman and lurking on the rooftops…

Ugh.

Turning the car off, I chanced a glance out the window and up to the lip of the roof beside us. Nothing.

"Whew… paranoia's gonna be the death of me…"

"What was that?" Cassie murmured, darting her eyes towards me without stopping her handheld typing. How the Hell did she even move her thumbs that fast?

"Nothing," I sighed.

"Cool. So look, I used a personal app I made called 'Spy Be Gone' to hook into the CCTV cameras around our location - Burgundy Street, right? They're still using Detcore as a security network for their IP addresses, old shit, and I've already installed a subroutine for those years ago. As long as those babies stay connected to wherever they're keeping the servers for this side of the Docks, I'll have eyes on every spot with an unprotected CCTV for this entire block."

She showed me her phone screen, a wide, prideful smile on her face. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I had no fucking idea what she was going on about, but the dozen or so little black and white squares of live camera footage told me all I needed to know. Curiously, I stuck my hand out the window of the Charger and saw the same arm wave out of a nondescript car in one of the lower CCTV recordings.

My eyes widened. One click of her finger, and that same camera went lights out.

"You… are something else," I breathed, genuinely impressed despite myself.

Cassie blushed, her nose wrinkling in that same cute way it did the last time she was both embarrassed, proud, and fake annoyed at the same time. "Yeah, well…" For some reason, I got the impression that she wasn't used to flexing her talents to people who actually gave a shit. Or receiving compliments. Or, as evident from her reaction to skinship, receiving physical affection. Life was hard on the lonely hacker.

So I reached down and rested my hand on her head, messing up her short, straight locks of greasy black hair. "I'm being serious, good work Cass. This would be a fucking shitshow without you."

Idly, in the back of my mind, I knew that I was taking advantage of the pitfalls of her life in order to get a certain reaction and feeling out of her. I didn't actually feel the urge to thank or compliment her, but I did it because I knew it would make her feel good and feel affection towards me. That was the thing about being Jason Black… empathy was a decision and a choice, rather than a natural human instinct. Regardless, I couldn't really bring myself to feel bad about wanting to emulate being a good person.

Cassie's blush, previously just a scant little dust of red on her cheeks, volcano'd instantly. Her bruised lips warbled up into a shy, tentative smile, and it seemed like she didn't know whether to melt into the slow, deep massage of my hands and fingers in her hair, or pull away in fear. "T-thanks Jason, that um… it means a lot. I'm… I'm proud of the stuff I've made. I know they're just little ratty apps and scripts instead of badass Tinker shit like Armsmaster's halberd or one of Dragon's suits, but-"

"Meh." I yawned.

Her brow furrowed, and her smile froze. A self-suffering snort broke through her previously rosy exterior. "Boring, right? Compared to all that heroic stuff, I guess it would be."

"No, I mean the beard dude and the mech suits and all that shit. Just… meh. Never been a fan of Gundam or Robocop."

Cassie's pity party screeched to a resounding halt, and she blinked owlishly up at me, my hand still resting on her head. "What?"

"I like your apps. Hacking's cool… I did a bit of coding in co- er, highschool, and even though I flunked out I still find it badass. Kinda like magic, y'know? A few random numbers and words and bam, you're controlling the Statue of Liberty and shit." I withdrew my hand, inwardly smirking at the way she instinctively moved her head to follow after it without realizing.

Her eyes, however, were completely focused on me. What seemed like surprise, amazement, and something else my current Force of Spirit-lacking self couldn't identify brightened her gaze. "You know… you're something else too." She threw my words right back at me, shaking her head in amusement.

I winked, and she deadpanned.

"Don't do that if you're not even gonna bother putting more emotion on your face. It's creepy, no matter how handsome you are."

"I'll take the compliment. Now, use those cameras to find me a place with gasoline. Or oil. There has to be something around here, and we don't have time to search the whole block." I grinned, sitting back in the cushy leather driver's seat and crossing my arms over my chest.

Cassie sighed, but her mood definitely seemed happier as she hunched over her trusty phone once again. "Fine. I can't really tell, but it seems like there's drums of something over here at Camera 11B, which would prooobably be somewhere over…"

As she reverted into 'girl in the chair' mode, filling my ear with absolutely essential information that I'd probably have her summarize right after she was done, I had to admit something to myself. The thought even surprised me.

I still wasn't happy about being sent here… but this could've been a lot worse. Cassie truly made everything much more bearable, and I was lucky to meet her at that bus stop.

I wasn't completely confident about the near future, but maybe…

'Maybe things'll go smooth for once… '

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One

Sorcery - Conveyance, One Dot (WoD: Sorcery - 100 CP)

Teleportation, flight, and other means of magically swift transportation are covered by this path.

[1] The sorcerer may transport themselves across roughly 10 feet.

900 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

I might slow down CP gain to 100 every 2000 words, as he is collecting them pretty fast at 100/1000. We'll see how things go moving deeper in, so try not to worry about CP or Perk distribution right now. I can easily edit things post-writing if need be.

Chapter 5

Things actually did go pretty smoothly for a while. I'd regretted mentally challenging Lady Karma mere seconds after thinking it, but maybe she was giving me a break today.

"I wish she would've done something about this fuckin' scent too, damn…"

I covered my lower face with the sleeve of my hoodie, trying not to inhale the fumes permeating the old, decrepit warehouse Cassie had pointed me in the direction of. It had been child's play to slip in through a broken window, but the darkness in the messy corridor proved annoying. Why the CCTV camera in the old facility worked was anyone's guess.

Apparently we were closer to the more rundown side of the Docks than I'd originally thought - things got better and more lived in the closer you either went to the Southwest, towards the South Docks, or East, towards the Market and the Boardwalk. Cassie, in all of her - admittedly smart - wisdom decided to hunker down in some shitty abandoned complex closer to the Trainyard, so the place where we were dumping the car was pretty much knee-deep in urban decay.

It was honestly pretty bleak, just how shitty some of the buildings I'd seen so far looked. It wasn't even like we were in a completely abandoned area, either. There weren't many cars out on the curb or streets, but that was because the owners were probably too fucking poor to afford 'em. Or, they were too afraid of getting robbed. I'd already skirted past what felt like half a dozen starving people huddled around alleyways, and I was sticking only to Burgundy Street!

The less said about the random bouts of gunshots, crying, and yelling that echoed in the near distance the better. It made me nervous to leave my cripple hacker behind for any period of time.

'All the more reason to hurry up,' I grumbled internally, kicking open the corroded remains of what seemed like a former emergency access door. The rusted and decrepit hinges broke on impact, swinging the burgundy and brown scrap metal flaps wide open. The sound was loud and screeching, almost startling me even though I was the one who kicked the damn thing open. For a brief second, paranoia forced me to entertain the idea that there were people already here for some reason. We hadn't seen anything on the CCTV cameras, but-

No, there was no way. Not even the homeliest of hobos would willingly sleep inside of what I was quickly beginning to think was an old gasoline and oil storage facility.

When I stepped through the sorry excuse for a doorway and my crocs immediately became sticky with a gross black residue, I knew that my theory was correct. Additionally, the overwhelming amount of scrap metal shelves lining the huge room was pretty solid proof too. Quite a few of the shelves - probably the majority, actually - were overturned or busted and corroded in some way, but there wasn't too much that I could see with the lights busted and no sunlight coming from the roof. Hell, there weren't any windows inside this main area either, so I was practically going in blind!

Thankfully, human eyes adapted decently well to darkness, so there were things I could still see - the shelves not included. Large drums littered the floor in all directions, some spilled over and leaking what I assumed to be gas and oil everywhere. I was sure that most of it was no good, obviously, but with such a heavy fucking smog in the air there had to be something worth taking back.

I moved further inside, cringing at the loud suction cup sounds of my crocs sticking and unsticking to the oil-slicked concrete. "Definitely gonna have to ditch you two after this," I sighed dramatically, my voice muffled through the cloth of my hoodie sleeve. There was a second floor to the warehouse, although I couldn't see much more through the heavy shadows, but time was of the essence and I had no intentions of sightseeing.

'Alright, let's see… '

Approaching a random drum, I leaned down to examine it further. It seemed about average - large, burnt-red, and half empty judging by the slosh it made when I experimentally leaned it to the side. It was also fuck-off heavy, because even getting it to tip over a little bit almost had me releasing it fully and allowing it to crash onto the ground.

"Damn!" I swore, letting it wobble back into equilibrium. I wasn't sure how much we needed to set the whole car on fire, but I didn't care much for making a return trip with a BOLA still out on my head. I'd risk a half-empty drum, but anything less than that was probably no good.

Hm… maybe teleporting with it would work? I hadn't tried the spell yet, not wanting to attract too much attention if it turned out to be loud and ostentatious, but considering there didn't seem to be no one inside with me…

A grin pulled at my lips and grasped the edge of the gas barrel with my left hand, enduring the scent of stale gasoline and oil. From what instinctive understanding I could grasp purely off of gaining the ability, there was no foci needed like with my Weapon Magic. World of Darkness' Sorcery was more… streamlined than it was versatile, and its magic was less about casting spells and more about activating magical abilities that lied upon a certain Path. Conveyance was the Path of Traversal, and reaching deep within my mana core, I grabbed a hold of that same innate feeling of familiarity that came with all of my magic, and channeled my ability to move.

There was no loud 'boom' or 'crack' that signified my teleportation. It was very simple, actually - one second, I was standing beside the red drum, and the next I was stumbling across the oil-slicked concrete roughly ten feet away from where I started channeling my mana.

"Oh, shit-"

For a few seconds I was the wackiest and most unique dancer in all of Earth Bet… until finally, I ate complete shit. Again. Third time today, actually.

"Oof!"

My hands landed in a sticky black mess, splattering oil over my hoodie and sweatpants, but holy shit… I had teleported! It was virtually silent, other than the slight 'woosh' of air being displaced. It didn't feel any further than ten feet, but it wasn't like I had a masterful inner sense of measurements. Whether or not Spellcaster affected my Sorcery was unimportant, though! Teleporting was trippy, but so fucking cool. I felt like a kid again- er, I was a kid again, but I felt a childlike giddiness fill my chest.

It took a fair amount of mana, but with the doubled size it wasn't too big of a loss. I felt like I could teleport quite a few times without getting too low. If I didn't go crazy and chain cast it, the slow regeneration of my mana should be able to recoup the loss over the course of a minute or so. "But… it didn't bring the gas drum," I muttered, pushing myself back to my feet and glaring at the red barrel.

One churn and pulse of my mana later and I was gripping the lid of the gas drum to steady myself. Using Convoyence Sorcery to teleport was sorta like riding an intense rollercoaster for all of one second - hella vertigo and dizziness, but I would get used to it over time. Crouching down, I wrapped my arms around the entirety of the gas drum and willed my magic to transport me backwards.

WOOSH.

I slipped backwards on the balls of my feet, still crouching with my arms extending outwards. Reflexes I barely even knew I had kicked in just in time to keep me from toppling backwards and falling flat on my ass. "Whew. 'Ight, I get it… no teleporting nukes into enemy bases at my level. Fair play, Celestial Grimoire."

With a sigh, I stood to my feet once again and looked around the dark warehouse. If I couldn't teleport with the goods or carry 'em on my back, how the Hell was I going to bring the gas back to Cassie and the car? What a stupid fucking dilemma!

There had to be something here…

"And that's when I found this dollie! Almost forgot these things existed." I said to Cassie as I poured the noxious gasoline inside the back of the car. It reeked, but it sank into the leather and floor mats much easier than oil would have. Plus, oil wasn't even that flammable in the first place - gas for the win.

"Mhm. So it took you that long to find a dollie? I know you said it was dark, but c'mon." Cassie smirked from her seated position on top of the dumpster. She'd taken off her right shoe and stowed it… somewhere, so her massively swollen and purple foot was on clear display. It was pretty grotesque, but I was just happy that it wasn't broken. Toughing it out was cool with a sprained ankle, but without a hospital a broken ankle was just asking for permanent damage.

Tensing my arms and lifting with my legs, I manhandled the last remnants of the gasoline barrel and grunted as I drizzled it over the already soaked roof. "I don't have my glasses," I breathed, successfully managing to sound dry even as I strained to carefully place the drum down. "And I was practicing a lil' bit."

That was also something I'd thought about. Explaining my magic.

Cassie's eyes widened in interest and she leaned forward over her knee. "Ooh, your powers, right? Nice form, by the way - the energy projection stuff you showed before gives you a Brute rating or something?"

I rose an eyebrow in bemusement. "What? No, I'm just built different. My power is actually a lil' bit weird. Definitely not " I rolled the gas drum over to the side of the dumpster, hidden amongst the ridiculous amount of stinking refuse and boxes. Cassie's eyes followed me the entire way.

"Weird how? And don't even think of trying to wiggle outta this one. My interest is fully piqued now, Jay, and I've read about some really weird shit on PHO."

Taking a second to catch my breath, I sighed and squatted down beside the dumpster, taking the Zippo lighter out of my pocket. It was pretty funny, actually - how I hadn't gotten a simple firebolt spell out of the Grimoire, despite fire magic being one of the most basic bitch staples of fictional fantasy.

"Good, then maybe my situation isn't too weird. I don't know 'bout any kind of brute rating, but uh… I can teleport now. Only short distances, though."

Cassie's eyebrows practically disappeared. "Like with that golden energy? So it's a… Mover-Striker combo? Make weapons and teleport to them…?" Her previous bravado slowly disappearing, Cassie crossed her arms beneath her small chest and eyed me confusedly. At least she was being patient.

"Nah, just straight up teleportation. I also learn skills faster the more danger I'm i-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Cassie gaped, raising her hands and making a 'time-out' gesture. "Let me make sense of this, Jason. So you're, what, a Trump? But those powers don't sound like they have much connection or synergy to them, unless you're some sort of power copier or-"

I could feel the Grimoire, as if it was destined, began to send out its feelers once again. Raising a hand to silence the rambling Cass, I gave her an amused smirk and stood back up. Resting time was over, and even though she shut off any camera that could possibly catch sight of us, I wasn't very enthused at the idea of sitting beside a gasoline-covered car in broad daylight for any longer than was necessary.

"We can finish this conversation later, in a much safer locale. For now, just believe me when I say this: I don't know too much about my powers, all I know is that every once and a while I get a new ability, though they're usually pretty minor. The teleportation was the most recent."

Telling her this much wasn't a horrible idea. I planned to stick around Cassie for the foreseeable future, she planned to show me her hidden base, and I genuinely felt like I could trust the girl. Trying to keep everything secret sounded like the biggest pain in the fucking ass, and I wasn't one to play the whole 'secrecy' thing anyway.

Eventually, I wouldn't need to hide anything about myself.

Cassie, in her defense, didn't freak out or panic - her eyes were just wide as she stared at me like I just farted out a gold brick or something. From what I remembered, having multiple powers or gaining them wasn't… unheard of, right? That Eidolon dude, part of the grimdark Justice League, had something similar. I could just say I was like him if anyone really tried to dig into my secrets deeply, right?

"We're definitely revisiting this, bucko. I know I seem calm right now, but there's nothing normal about being a-" Cassie's voice dropped down to a hiss, "Trump that can just spawn powers 'every once and a while'!" Her shitty rendition of my voice caused me to cringe.

"Fuck off, I don't sound like that. Now get ready to run." I scowled, flicking the Zippo lighter on.

"Huh?!"

I paused. "Shit. Right. Here-" Turning around, I teleported the scant few feet over to Cassie - ignoring her started and surprisingly high-pitched yelp - and tossed the lighter behind me. I wasn't too worried about missing since the gas covered quite a bit of distance around the car, but I was worried about it exploding in spite of my previous half-ignorant declaration. Putting one arm beneath her knees and the other right above her ass, I hefted Cassie into my arms with a grunt and immediately began sprinting down the opposite lip of the alley.

I wasn't looking - because cool guys obviously didn't look at explosions - but I could both hear and feel the immediate eruption of flames that consumed the gas like a whirlpool. Cassie gasped, stretching her head up to stare over my shoulders at the fiery mess but I was too busy focusing on placing one foot after the other to pay proper attention. She couldn't have weighed more than 90 pounds and I was in pretty good shape, but moving around that drum and fighting for my life had a way of tiring a man.

Spoiler: Eyes See All or None(Wonderland No More - 200 CP)

You get two related abilities with this perk. First, by saying, "I can see what you're doing there, young man," you gain literal (illusory) eyes on the back of your head (or an equivalent position) that not only have your normal eyes' level of vision but will also detect and see all supernatural things within your normal range of vision, even if they are invisible. On the flipside, if you cover your eyes and say, "I can't see you, so you can't see this," you stop all magical/supernatural attempts to see you for as long as you keep your eyes covered.

"Jay," Cassie suddenly gasped as I jay-sprinted across a crack-laden street.

"What?"

"It ignited the dumpster."

"Oh." I blinked, breathing evenly through my nose as I ran. "I can see what you're doing there, young man."

"… The fu-"

"You're right! Poor… raccoons?"

"Pfft, you fucking dick. Take a right through that alley."

Arms sore and legs pumping, I followed her directions, inwardly quite satisfied with my latest ability. It was sorta… discombobulating, but useful. Plus, I was getting used to this whole multitasking thin-

A rock almost made me eat shit, and I stumbled, jostling my passenger.

"Ow, Jason, be careful!"

"Sorry."

I wish I could say that I fearlessly and tirelessly sprinted through streets and alleyways for two whole miles, but that would be a bold faced lie. After ducking through a couple of apartments and warehouses - just in case we needed to lose a trail, Cassie insisted - we finally managed to make it to the infamous 'Chateau de Hacker'. I had to deactivate my newest ability halfway there, despite the confidence and peace of mind it gave me to be aware of any threats coming from behind.

Although they were near-sighted just like my plain 'ol human eyes, if the description proved to be right - and it always was - then I'd be able to pierce through both Stranger powers that hid or cloaked their owners away from normal sight. That wasn't even getting into the second ability, which I hadn't had time to test out just yet. The unfortunate side-effect was the severe fucking headache looking from two different sets of eyes smacked me with.

At this point, I had a dinosaur treating the inside of my skull like Jurassic World and I honestly wasn't the biggest fan - of the headache or the movie.

"You can put me down now, Jason. We're safe here." Cassie brought me out of my thoughts, lightly tapping a chewed-on fingernail against my chin. True to her words, the area around us seemed safe; her warehouse was fringing on the outskirts of the Docks, more in the Trainyard than anything else, and other than a few abandoned boxcars and a half-destroyed building I had to skirt around in order to even find the damn hideout, there wasn't much in the way of easy places to wait in ambush. She chose well.

"I can," I said casually, making the motion to lower her to the ground. I tried my hardest to not smirk at the subtle, almost too fast to notice tightening of her arms around my neck. Try as she might to deny it, I knew the touch-starved girl enjoyed lying defenseless in my arms for so long. Talk about a pillow princess. "You sure you want that?"

"Ugh," Cassie groaned, but made no comment to deny the hinted allegation, "Just do it so I can put the code in. The door won't open otherwise."

"Fine," I chuckled, gingerly lowering the much smaller girl onto the ground. Huffing, she hobbled over to the large, metal gray door bringing her phone out and scrolling to another app. There was some sort of small plastic screen embedded at around face-level on the door, and as she typed on her phone the screen suddenly turned black. Moments later, green code started piling up.

'Ooookay, stereotypical hackerman shit.' I rose an eyebrow, turning my attention away from the crazy girl and her fancy door and observing the outside of the warehouse. Warehouse was… an incorrect term, however. It looked more like a concrete dungeon - small, compact, and the only noteworthy features seemed to be the metal door placed directly in the front.

"It's a bunker," Cassie suddenly spoke up, pocketing her phone and pushing open the door. "Probably for some poor family who wanted an escape for the Endbringer attacks. Don't know, don't really care - it was a bitch to hack into and it was empty when I found it, so finder's keepers."

I shrugged my shoulders, moving to walk inside. "You won't find me complaining. What's yours is mine and what's everyone else's is mine too, ya dig?"

She snickered. "Don't ever say 'ya dig' again, grandpa." Turning around, she shut the door and fiddled with another screen.

I waved her off. "Yeah, yeah. Hey, this place doesn't look half bad. A bit small, but…" 'Small' was a bit of an understatement - it was probably around the size of a poor girl's bedroom, but it was… clean, at least. And it had electricity - I wonder how she got that set up. A single fluorescent light bulb hung from the concrete ceiling, a dark green hatch was installed on the floor beneath said bulb, and… there was nothing else.

Huh, the hatch probably led down into-

"Do you even know what a bunker is?" Cassie sighed, limping towards the hatch. I followed after, because Lord knew she wasn't lifting it by herself with no core leverage.

"I do… I just never saw the inside of one before. Or, if I did, it was a long time ago. Who the fuck regularly observes the inside of bunkers?"

"Uh, normal-"

"Nah, crazy people - that's who."

"And people who enjoy surviving the crazy monsters that threaten our cities once every second Sunday." Cassie snarked, stepping back and letting me muscle up the hatch. I was honestly a bit surprised that she hadn't found a way to put some ridiculously complicated hydraulic locking mechanism accessible only by her Nokia on the hatch as well.

"Point." I conceded, watching as the metal ladder folded down out of the hatch and fell the 13 or so feet down into the inky darkness. There was a small beat of silence, before: "So, I guess I'm gonna go down first and then catch you-"

"I can climb down slowly on one foot, genius." Cassie's voice was amused.

"Yeah, but then you miss out on another ride on the muscle wagon," I replied with a rakish grin and a wiggle of my eyebrows.

"Haha! You're actually insufferable." Cassie snorted, shaking her head and fixing me with a glare that lacked heat. "Go down first, just in case I fall or something."

"Yup."

Still grinning, I tossed my lower body over the side of the hole and gripped the metal rungs of the ladder. Even though the inside of the bunker proper was pretty much pitch black, the events of the day did a lot to help me with my blind confidence. Or maybe that was just Heroic Aptitude doing it's job. Fake it 'till you make it, right?

Without hesitating, I slid straight down into the darkness. It was only a few seconds before my completely fucked up crocs hit solid concrete, and as soon as I did an array of lights flickered on directly overhead, momentarily blinding me.

"Shit!" I swore, closing my eyes and covering them with my forearm. That damned dinosaur started doing flips again, this time with aplomb.

"It's better than the dark at least. Don't worry, they're voice activated," Cassie said as she slowly clambered down the ladder after me. "Lights, dim." There was the sound of something flickering and buzzing, before all went silent once again.

Opening my eyes, I watched as the previously bright fluorescent bulbs dimmed to a much more relaxing level. I blinked the spots out of my eyes. "I'd be more impressed if your lighting system didn't just flashbang the Hell outta me." I grumbled.

Cassie grunted as she made it past the final rung, slightly out of breath and looking paler than usual. "You'll be alright, Mister Trump. I'm sure there's a power somewhere in that noggin that can heal you right up."

I shivered in disgust, shooting her a glare. "First off, don't ever call me that again. Secondly…" I trailed off, slowly turning around in a 360 as I took in her base of operations. "… Holy shit."

Cass limped forward to stand by my side, a nervous look overtaking her face. "I know it's pretty shitty, but I did what I could to make it home."

I shook my head, absently plopping my hand on top of her head.

"Hey!"

Laughter, free of stress and worry - at least for now, bubbled out of my chest. I turned to give my newest roomie a big, genuine grin. Tentatively, but with growing elation at the realization that we were safe and free, Cassie met my smile with her own. Somehow, in the shitty lighting of the underground bunker, it looked more beautiful than any other woman's I've ever met. "Homeless my ass. If this ain't paradise, I don't know what is."

Sure, it wasn't my apartment in East Harlem, but…

For now, right in this moment, it was perfect.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One

Eyes See All or None(Wonderland No More - 200 CP): You get two related abilities with this perk. First, by saying, "I can see what you're doing there, young man," you gain literal (illusory) eyes on the back of your head (or an equivalent position) that not only have your normal eyes' level of vision but will also detect and see all supernatural things within your normal range of vision, even if they are invisible. On the flipside, if you cover your eyes and say, "I can't see you, so you can't see this," you stop all magical/supernatural attempts to see you for as long as you keep your eyes covered.

900 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Trying out the new CP gain this chapter! Also, I wrote enough to roll twice - but I will be rolling in the beginning of next chapter because I liked the ending here and didn't wanna mess it up by shoehorning a roll at the end, hehe.

Chapter 6

PRT Director Emily Piggot stapled her pudgy fingers together beneath her flagging chin, eyes as sharp as any sword practically piercing the short distance between her and the small stack of reports that were recently faxed over to her from the Brockton Bay PD. Homicide cases in the Bay wasn't at all irregular, what with gangs like the Azn Bad Boys and the Empire-88 braying over blood and territory like starving hounds, but most of the cases didn't find themselves making their way to her desk in particular unless one very specific element was involved.

What element was that? Well, one of the few things that the regular justice system treated like an ugly, unwanted ginger stepson and threw away at the first sign of trouble.

Parahuman activity.

Oh, it wasn't as if she was the one who handled all the Parahuman cases in Brockton Bay. The chain of leadership didn't work like that, and she delegated a lot of the workflow through to those trained to handle and monitor Cape activities, but somehow life had a funny way of wrapping it all back 'round to her desk. Not that she could, or would, ever openly complain about her duties as Director. Better her than some other weak schmuck not able to handle the stress and responsibility that came from keeping the peace relatively stable amongst one of the highest Cape-populated cities in America. It was easy to underestimate the job when your eyes were still blinded to the danger and turmoil those with powers threatened humanity with.

She had shed those rose-tinted glasses long ago. Too long ago.

Now, if only she could get a more concrete report from the coroner's office, just so she knew more about what sort of rogue cape they were dealing with.

"Director? Not trying to rush your thoughts, but I assume you called us here for a reason?" Armsmaster's voice, carefully stoic and respectful, brought the blonde woman out of her darkening thoughts.

Emily had called for him and a couple other select Protectorate members that weren't currently on duty. In front of her desk, sitting in fairly uncomfortable metal folding chairs, Armsmaster, Miss Militia, Assault, and Battery waited patiently - or, in Assault's case, patiently while smacking his lips on a pack of Cool Ranch chips. When she gave him a reproachful glare, the laidback Cape raised his hands peacefully and smiled. "What? You kinda called us outta nowhere, boss lady. I gotta keep my calories up."

Battery let out an almost silent sigh, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair and crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed content to completely ignore her obnoxious partner.

"Put the chips away and pay attention, Assault. I don't like bugs in my office any more than I like watching you chew with your mouth open." Emily's voice was like steel - commanding and tough, in spite of her lessening health. She punctuated the seriousness of the demand by holding out her hand expectantly.

Assault blanched. "Awww, come on Director! I'm not a naughty kid sneaking cookies out the-"

"I'm not going to say it again."

"But-"

"Just give her the chips so we can move on with the briefing," Battery sighed, giving her husband a tired glare.

Seeing that he was getting no support there, Assault, still chewing, glanced helplessly over to Armsmaster.

The bearded man stared sullenly ahead.

He looked to Miss Militia for any sort of backup, probably trusting in the mature woman's genteel nature.

The gun-toting hero studiously checked her fingernails, looking away from the obvious SOS. The shape of her eyebrows betrayed her amusement, however.

"Man…" Pouting - like a real life man child - Assault sighed and placed the half-empty bag of chips in Emily's meaty palm. She immediately dropped the junk food in the wastebin beside her desk, easily ignoring the Cape's stuttered gasp of horror at the wasteful display.

"Great. Now, if we're done playing reindeer games, I want each of you to look over the reports placed in front of you on the desk. It has all consolidated information we have on our most recent rampant Cape, unofficially named 'Shiv'."

That seemed to grab all of their attention. For a few seconds the room was overtaken by the sound of shifting fabric, kevlar, and metal as all four heroes leaned forward to grab and study their own copies of the report. It took Miss Militia only a brief, cursory glance over the page before her voice spoke up in subdued interest and caution.

"'Showcases the ability to generate and shoot golden energy constructs in the shape of small blades'? Sounds rather familiar, doesn't it? Pretty limited, though." A wry tone skirted along the edge of her low, feminine voice.

"Limited or not, I'd watch my back if I were you Missy! Kid showed up outta nowhere jacking your style while stabbing a bunch of racists. Talk about ballsy." Assault chuckled in amusement, his own eyes roaming over the report in his hands. "Name's pretty accurate too. His power sounds a lot closer to Brandish's, though."

Miss Militia's only reply was a noncommittal hum, her eyes still focused on the Shiv report.

Armsmaster rubbed his gloved hand over his beard, a frown pulling at his lips. "This isn't a laughing matter. Underage or not, killing four unpowered people while using the full force of your abilities isn't acceptable. Do we have footage of the fight?"

"And do we even know if he's underage or not? These photos don't show much." Battery added.

Emily leaned back in her office chair, ignoring the familiar sound of plastic and leather creaking with the movement. She nodded her head towards the large monitor on the wall to the right of her desk, placed in the perfect area for on the spot briefings. A click of a button later and familiar camera footage - footage that she'd played over at least three times so far in the past hour - flashed onto the screen.

Clearing her throat, the Director addressed the heroes once again. "According to the reports, there had been four cooling bodies on the scene when the policemen first arrived, and only one of them had actual physical stab wounds that matched the size and shape of a small blade - more than likely a switchblade or pocket knife. The other corpses lacked any matching wounds."

"Then how-"

A raised hand interrupted Armsmaster's expected question. Without any further words, Emily unpaused the footage.

Though grainy and relatively poor quality, the footage managed to capture a good portion of the fight - if it could even be considered that. Two figures, one relatively average in height and the other quite short, were seen walking down the sidewalk in what appeared to be a fairly normal neighborhood. The shorter figure was a girl, seemingly Asian and fair-skinned, while much couldn't be seen about the taller one. Brown skin and what seemed like locks of black hair poked out of a tightly cinched hood, but nothing else could be seen from the camera's positions.

"Hold on." Miss Militia said quickly, and Emily inwardly sighed as she pressed the pause button on the remote.

She had already come to terms with the amount of prodding and hold-ups the briefing would have - just like any other meeting about rogue or dangerous capes - so she couldn't find it in her to be annoyed with the interruption. Additionally, information gathering and distribution is why she called for the meeting in the first place.

"Go ahead," she replied.

"Thank you, Director," Miss Militia inclined her head. "But who is the girl beside 'Shiv'? You gave us files on him, but nothing on his companion. Is she not being investigated as well?"

Emily's thin lips pulled down into an ugly frown. "Finding out more about the girl should be easy, since she had nothing to hide her identity. No mask, hood, nothing. However, first attempts with the city's facial recognition system brought nothing up. No identification, public records, birth certificate, Hell - not even a damn shoe size." Her voice, always so cold and controlled, lowered in frustration. "Further diving into her identity, not being a major point of interest yet, was reluctantly put on hold."

Why the elderly man who reported the crime deigned to call the police department instead of the PRT Emergency Hotline transcended her knowledge, but he successfully wasted time for both departments that could have been used in pursuing Shiv and the mystery girl. She hadn't actively committed any crime, but she was an accessory, and thusly involved.

Armsmaster's brow furrowed at the new information. "A possible data wipe? I'm not familiar with the PD's digital security, but we should be able to recover something. Dragon and I-"

"Lack the authority to go deep-diving into private city records without probable cause. For now. Shiv is the primary target here, Armsmaster. Stay on task." The clear lack of 'try' was loud. Armsmaster frowned, but nodded compliantly.

"If there's no more interruptions," Emily offered, and when no one responded, she unpaused the video.

The cameras should've been able to pick up audio, but it was tinny and the sound of wind and ambience drowned out the obvious whispering the duo was trying to be subtle about. The street was practically empty, save for the two making their way down the sidewalk, but that changed very quickly.

White men, all of them bald and clearly up to no good, seemed to practically melt out of the alleyways. One, a man in a red bomber jacket and sunglasses, was the only one to not come from some hole in the wall. He instead stepped out of an expensive looking, wine red Dodge Charger, and proceeded to lean against it arrogantly. It was clear what was happening, and judging by their sudden halt, the two kids seemed to realize it as well.

After that, things seemed to escalate quickly - as they tended to do when parahumans were involved. Two goons, one being the presently comatose and detained Mac, confronted the duo. The confrontation happened on the sidewalk close to a streetlight, and though the audio wasn't perfect, the room was able to hear the majority of the conversation due to the raised voices.

Cringes were found across the board, sans Armsmaster and Emily, at the very clear hate crime in process happening on the screen. If the violent shoulder-check by the swastika-tatted goon didn't make it clear who the aggressors were, the spat-out 'chink' and overuse of the word 'boy' was like nails in the coffin. Emily had seen many things in her long career in the PRT, and racism was just one of the many disgusting pitfalls of humanity that she'd learned to keep calm in the face of. Nazis ran rampant through the streets of Brockton, so it wasn't as if the heroes gathered were shocked by the scene, but…

It didn't mean that they were unaffected. As soon as Assault opened his mouth, Emily paused the footage once again. Frozen on the screen was the view of 'Mac' decking Shiv clear across the face with a fist that was almost the same size as the kid's head.

"Bull fucking shit, Piggot" the ginger man chuckled, though no humor or levity could be heard in his voice, "A black kid, 'cause I'm pretty sure the guy's like sixteen or seventeen, gets his ass beat by a bunch of grown nazis and we're, what… supposed to send his ass to the Birdcage for killing them? Bullshit."

Armsmaster, for once, said nothing in response to the coarse and unprofessional statement.

"I never mentioned the Birdcage." Emily replied evenly, meeting Assault's smoldering glare with her own frosty one. "And you'd do well to rein in your temper, Assault. It's Director Piggot." The strength in her voice brokered no arguments, practically daring him to challenge it.

Battery laid her hand on her husband's arm before the man could dig himself into a hole. Her gaze, however, was no less intense than his when she looked at the Director. "No one should kill as the first, second, or even third option… but this is starting to look like a clear case of teenage fear and anger aimed at, to be blunt, horrible people."

Miss Militia spoke up then, her voice somehow calm, angry, and curious all at once. "Then let's see what happens after. I think it's clear where this is going to end up."

Assault perked up, brows raising in interest at the obvious meaning.

"Focus now. Shiv uses his powers here." Emily cut her eyes back to the monitor and unpaused the video.

The meaty 'thunk' of fist against cheek resumed midway through, and all eyes watched as the girl screamed in fear and anger. She lashed out with words, body shaking, but her legs seemed unable to move - whether to run or defend her fallen friend. Her venomous hiss of 'not doing anything wrong' only solidified the heroes' understanding of the situation.

"Stupid cunt, it's one thing to be on our turf. We can hardly stop alla' yous. But it's another to be interbreedin' your nastiness here too."

"No fuckin' way he said that…" Assault sounded nauseated. "Maybe Shiv's onto someth-"

"Shut. Up." Battery hissed, elbowing him in the side. He didn't even seem like he noticed it, too busy staring forlornly at the monitor.

Emily pretended not to hear them. The main event was coming up, and though she'd watched the footage multiple times already, she was still hoping that there was some subtle effect she missed that would explain the three healthy dead bodies and the comatose one.

The asian girl pulling out a switchblade was met with winces from the peanut gallery - not because she was deciding to defend herself, but because, by doing so with a weapon, she was escalating the stakes considerably. Before, it was two thugs assaulting them with fists and mean words while their friends watched from the sidelines. Nothing good could ever come from such a situation, but at least no real blood had been drawn.

Things could only get worse from there.

Apparently Shiv - or 'Jay', according to the scared girl - thought the same, as he yelled for the girl to toss him the knife. His voice in that moment was louder than it had ever been before, being picked up clearly on the camera. Deep, angry - it surprised everyone in the fight, and it surprised the heroes watching.

"Kid has pipes," Assault whistled lowly, leaning forward with wide-eyes as the girl tossed Shiv the switchblade. The kid clumsily caught it by the blade, wincing as he gripped it tightly in his fist.

"Commanding, too." Miss Militia acquiesced, eyeing Emily from the corner of her eye. Her eyebrow was raised in silent question, but the Director steadfastly ignored the blatant fishing.

SNAP.

"But- oof." Assault winced as Mac tossed all of his considerable bulk and muscle into the skinny little girl, twisting her ankle violently to the side. She screamed as she went down, toppled over by nazi flesh.

Shiv wasn't just lying there like a wet noodle, however.

From the top-down view of the streetlight camera his face wasn't able to be seen, but his iron-like grip on the switchblade was evident as he grunted and lurched weakly on the concrete. Golden energy, almost like a radiant miasma, floated up from his body like tendrils of viscous smoke, settling in the air above his body and immediately solidifying as a half dozen copies of the very same switchblade he was holding in his hand.

Miss Militia's eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward in her chair.

"Go." The boy's harsh whisper was picked up by the camera as he rotated the switchblade in his hand and viciously jabbed it towards Mac.

In a blur of motion, the golden switchblade copies hovering over his prone body launched forward at breakneck speeds, clearing the short distance between them and the fat nazi nigh on instantly. The blades left behind a trail of energy, almost like a mono-colored rainbow, and they seemed to glimmer in the air right before they pierced handle-deep in Mac's side.

There was no sound of sharp metal - or energy - piercing flesh, only the woosh of energy, the 'thump' of impact, and the nazi's pained swears as the momentum sent him flopping over and across the sidewalk like a floundering fish.

Silence reigned in the meeting room as the heroes watched the ensuing chaos. Shiv lived up to his namesake, desperately lunging to his feet and charging the skinny nazi and plugging three holes in his chest with the switchblade in his hand.

The sight of the violence and blood was unsurprising, considering what was already written on his file, and when the boy yelled for his friend to 'get down' and tackled her to the sidewalk in order to save her from a sudden burst of gunfire…

Emily could see the gears churning in the heroes' heads.

Moments later, she paused the footage in the midst of the energy knife and gun fight between Shiv and the leader. The screen proudly displayed the frantic moment where the kid twisted into cover behind a large truck, and his hastily launched constructs sent the last gangster flying back into the street, dead.

The kid's hand was stretched out of cover, as if checking to see if any bullets would be sent down range again.

Armsmaster, who'd been silent for practically the entirety of the footage review, was the first one to break the silence that had fallen between the heroes and Director.

"I assume," he spoke tersely, looking straight at Emily, "That we are offering him probationary Wards membership?"

Emily turned away from the monitor and faced them all, a thin smile forming on her face. It wasn't a pleasant one. "Shiv's capture is high priority. Use the carrot, the stick, and the very real threat of juvenile detention. His ability is cautiously rated as Blaster 6. It is nothing too overwhelming on first look, but the effects of his 'energy weapons' are still unknown and considered extremely dangerous and lethal. They seem to ignore skin, muscle, and bone completely, as you could see from the autopsy photos, but kill as easily as any blade. 'Mac', one of the men who attacked him, still hasn't woken up. No matter what, we need to get him in - for his sake as well as others."

Miss Militia nodded intently. It was clear to everyone involved that she was personally interested in the case. "Understood. Do we have any idea where he and his friend ran off to?" Her brow furrowed. "I doubt they'd want to stick around the Downtown area after… all of that."

Emily glanced back down to the reports on her desk. Her brow twitched, but the smile on her face didn't change. "A vehicle was found charred and burning beside a bunch of burning trash and a gas drum in the Upper Docks. The same vehicle that Shiv later took from the now dead Empire goon."

Assault snorted loudly, and Battery side-eyed him with a frown.

"What? Kid has spunk, like I said before!"

"Yes, well, you've all been briefed on the situation. Stay vigilant, do not start a fight with Shiv unless absolutely forced into it, and get him here. Dismissed."

Amongst the screeches of metal folding chairs and the scuffing of boots, Emily turned away and began rifling through yet another stack of reports.

She resisted the urge to sigh.

'Truly no rest for the wicked.' The Director mused wryly.

Chapter 7

With consciousness came awareness, and for a scant few moments I was completely confused as to why everything felt so… foreign. I was lying on a lumpy but soft mattress, scratchy blankets were tossed over my half naked body, and there was the distinct smell of blueberries & cream drifting into my nostrils alongside a very real and warm weight pressing against my side. This definitely wasn't my apartment - the bed was too uncomfortable, and my on and off again girlfriend used strawberry shampoo.

And then, the cloudiness faded, and all of the memories of the previous day hit. One by one. In gratuitous, prodigal, and damn near nauseating detail.

I got fucking isekai'd into Worm by some omnipotent entity.

The Celestial Grimoire was shoved into my soul.

And I killed four nazis, set fire to the leader's car, and escaped with a spunky hacker girl who apparently liked to use large amounts of blueberry shampoo.

A mirthless chuckle escaped hollowly from between my lips. 'All in a day's work, I guess.'

After opening my eyes and blinking away the crusties, I spent a couple minutes just staring up at the slate gray concrete ceiling above me. Cassie had given me the grand tour yesterday before she had collapsed in bed and started snoozing, and I had to admit - her bunker was pretty fucking badass. Obviously it was a bunker so commodities were pretty low, but whoever owned it before her clearly had a bit of money to toss around. Having access to an emergency shower, limited amounts of electricity, rudimentary plumbing, and even whole servers was insane for what was meant to be an Endbringer shelter. Although I had a feeling that most of the technology stuff had been brought in retroactively by Cassie herself.

Hell, the chick even had a fucking coffee machine. And speaking of…

Carefully, I shimmied my way out of the mess of blankets and limbs and rolled lightly onto the cold stone floor. Cassie, now thoroughly washed and rocking a pair of oversized pajamas, grumbled something in her sleep and shifted around. Her ankle was propped up by an extra pillow at the foot of the bed, so she was forced to stay lying on her back - probably the only reason why I was able to escape without waking her up.

Say what you wanted about 'stranger danger' and 'boundaries', that girl was touch-starved as fuck.

I, admittedly, hadn't asked before slumping into her bed after my own shower, but she had briefly woken up to yell out 'Lights off' and lay her head on my chest so I considered myself innocent until proven guilty. That innocence, however, would not hold up in any court of law if I loomed over her sleeping form with my very real and very hard morning wood, so I quickly turned away and started up another cup of joe. It was fortunate that she had a pile of hand-me-down clothing, including clean underwear, piled up in her tiny bathroom or else more problems would've popped up during the night.

Namely, little Jay jabbing her like that switchblade she let me borrow.

Not to come off as cocky, but 'little' was pretty inaccurate - so I was thankful that hadn't happened. Hiding it would've been impossible, and I didn't want to run my newest roommate off or make her think I was some sorta rapist creep. It didn't help that her attractiveness practically doubled once she washed the grease out of her hair and cleaned the muck off of her skin. Pouty red lips, soft, pale skin, and from what I'd seen before she showered yesterday…

Girl had a pretty fat ass. Small tits, but I was definitely an ass and thighs guy before I was a tits man. Annnd now my newest perk was bringing to mind the very clear memory of Cassie's bare little bubble butt as she slipped away into the shower. There was no door to the bathroom, and the emergency shower was simply a sprinkler nozzle jutting from the ceiling, and she hadn't seemed to mind when I stared for a few seconds before turning away. Maybe a bit shy, definitely blushing and pouting, but she hadn't said a word. It could be the whole 'saving her' thing kicking in? Plus, she did call me handsome back at the bus stop…

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Fuck!" I jumped, my heart skipping two whole beats at the annoying sound of the coffee machine going off. "That's what you get for bein' a perv, Jay…" I shook my head in amusement, grabbing the chipped mug filled with steaming hot liquid and bringing it with me as I headed downstairs. We didn't have much in the way of creamer or sugar - apparently Cassie had been out running errands for the past couple days and was hoping to grab some commodities on the way back, but then she met me, and well…

It was probably up to me to grab the essentials now that I was the de-facto man of the house. 'And,' I thought dryly, taking a sip of the bitter coffee and shuddering in disgust as it went down, 'It was sorta my fault she got fucked up in the first place.' The memory of her ankle dislocating - the sound of the bones cracking, the fear in her voice as she screamed - flashed through my head. It wasn't as all-encompassing as the memory of her ass, however, and I easily brushed it away. My control over the magical perk was improving steadily.

Spoiler: A Rareified Mind (Cultist Simulator - 100 CP)

It would be a shame that in your quest for enlightenment you suffered a lapse of memory. It's not like some of these secret teachings can be found in the local library. This simple perk makes your memory perfect, limitless, and retroactive, while also allowing for instant recall and perfect indexing. You'll never forget any moment of your life, no matter how small, and you'll be able to recall those moments as if you were currently standing there again. As a retroactive effect, your past memories will also be affected, even if you've somehow managed to forget them.

It had been a bit scary, suddenly seeing my life flash before my eyes right before bed yesterday. I'd thought I was dying from a fuckin' heart attack or undiagnosed cancer or something, but indexing the memories and filing them away in a sort of mental cabinet quickly calmed down the onrush of long-forgotten sights and sounds. I had accepted the perk myself, but I hadn't exactly expected it to blindside me like that. It did, however, have the positive effect of alerting me to some things I'd forgotten in the excitement.

"I fucked up."

The stoic declaration didn't come with any self-pity bullshit or excuses - I wasn't that type of guy, and although I had issues with anxiety in the past, there wasn't much of it bothering me right now. It was a simple fact that I played yesterday's confrontation extremely sloppily, and I chewed on the thought as I sat down at Cassie's expensive-looking computer setup and leaned back in the chair.

I took another sip of scalding hot coffee. The bunker was cool, temperature-wise, and the bitter liquid helped warm me up a bit in my current state of undress.

"If there were cameras in the Docks, there definitely had to be cameras watching over that fight. I had my hood on, sure, but Cass didn't…" I'd be pissed at myself if my lack of forethought got my little hacker hemmed up with the cops. She hadn't shown anything supernatural so I doubted the PRT would be on her ass, but maybe they would if she was seen as a partner to me - the Cape that had just killed four assholes in broad daylight with glowing knives.

I groaned, sitting the coffee mug down at the desk and covering my face with my hand. "What to do…"

I was probably a fucking criminal now. Sure, self-defense dictated that I defended myself, but taking the dude's car and going only for kill shots? I wasn't a lawyer, but my now crystal clear memories of Judge Judy told me that a normal jury wouldn't look at the situation super favorably. But I was in Worm now, and they had different players. I didn't have to be on the lookout for just cops. The PRT would definitely be looking for me, and considering the fact that the jacket-wearing skinhead was screaming on the phone…

I probably had the Empire on the lookout as well.

A loud, obnoxious, and familiar yawn from behind had me slowly twisting around in the desk chair. In spite of my dark thoughts, my face was as 'resting bitch' as it always was as I gave the sleepy Cassie a two-fingered salute. "Yo."

"Ugh, guuhdmornin- aaaah." Slouched over the railing of her impromptu bedroom patio, messy-haired and drowsy, Cassie cut her words off with yet another jaw-cracking yawn. The sleeves of her black pajama top was too big so it hid her face when she went to cover up her mouth. Smacking her lips, the girl blinked down at me. "Watchu stressing 'bout?"

I arched an eyebrow. "The usual. Killin' mooks, the possibility of being incarcerated, the fact that you're walking on an ankle that looks like a purple balloon." I gestured at said ankle with a disapproving frown.

Cassie smirked, waving her flappy sleeve dismissively. "I popped a few painkillers when I woke up, don't worry. I get chronic migraines often so I stol- er, borrowed a lot a couple months ago." She blinked again, her staring turning more intense as the sleep faded from her eyes.

I winced in sympathy. "Shit, sorry - migraines are the worst. Still, numbing the pain doesn't mean you can just hop around on it. It won't heal that way." I was far from a worrywart, but I felt responsible about the injury and I wanted her to feel better as soon as possible.

"Trueee…" Cassie trailed off, breaking eye contact and glancing downwards. Her eyes were back up immediately, however, and I briefly wondered if I'd just imagined it. Fucking teenage hormones acting up again. "I'll do my best, but uh… y-you need some clothes or something? I know it's pretty cold down here." Or maybe not? The nervous lilt in her voice sent a spark through my chest.

I glanced down at myself. While I would never say that I was the most muscular man in the room, I had to admit that I was looking better than I remembered looking back home. It wasn't by some significant amount - I was still athletically built and leaning more on the lankier side, but the robustness of my chest and the definition of my abs were more prominent than they were a few days ago for sure.

That wasn't even including the large, meaty imprint that slid down the right leg of my briefs. It was all a bit obscene now that I took everything in at once, but I had never been one for hiding my body back at home. Shame or embarrassment were two emotions that I rarely had the pleasure of dealing with. Not even bothering to adjust myself, I looked back up to the staring girl. Her eyes had drifted down in tandem with mine, and she hadn't even realized.

"Nah, I'm good," I said coolly, keeping my face carefully composed. "If it's uncomfortable for you then I definitely can though, no issue. I just feel comfortable like this." I leaned back in the chair, folding my ankle over my knee in order to make it seem like I was trying to ward away her gaze. In reality, however, it only accentuated my bulge.

Dully, in the back of my head, I wondered why I was messing around with Cass - why was I subtly working to rile her up or get amusing and satisfactory reactions out of her? And then my mind flashed through a few dozen memories of me doing the exact same thing to previous female conquests over the years, and I dryly accepted it. I was a fuckin' deviant, and this shit was fun.

"You-…" Cassie's cheeks practically exploded in fiery red, all sleep erased irrevocably from her mind as she raped my attractive form with her eyes. She was biting her lip again - something I was beginning to associate with her being nervous or unsure - and I could hear her breath quicken. "Uh, your- I mean! You can totally do what you want here, y'know?" Her breath caught in her throat, and her normally low and sensual voice cracked just a bit. " I'm cool."

Snort.

Amusement began to war with the slumbering heat in the back of my chest, and I couldn't stop the crooked grin from breaking out across my face. "You're cool," I agreed tightly, barely holding myself back from breaking out in chuckles.

Cassie gaped, her eyes sharpening in anger. "Jason you dick!" she yelled, going right back to her all bark and no bite self. "Go put on some fucking clothes, harlot!" Reaching back, she grabbed the pillow from the foot of her bed and launched it at me with a grunt.

I watched it fly for a brief second, my mind tracing the trajectory of the toss and channeling that information directly into my muscles. Reflexes wanted me to either dodge out of the way or catch it, and for a moment I marveled at the feeling. Time didn't actually slow down or anything, and I was sure that a thrown pillow was immensely slower than, say, a bullet, but my reaction time was markedly faster than it was yesterday. It felt… nice.

As quick as a snake, I stood to my feet and yoinked the pillow out of the air, rotating with the momentum of the throw and tossing it over the side of my head straight in Cassie's direction. She yelped and went to duck down way too slowly, but I hadn't aimed for her.

The pillow barely landed an inch or two away from my intended target - which was the exact same spot she grabbed it from. I clicked my teeth.

"Lame," Cassie huffed, sticking her small pink tongue out at me. "Using your powers to harass the defenseless hacker, huh? For shame, truly."

I gave her a bemused smirk. "You're sounding awfully cocky for a shameless pervert, Cass. My eyes are up here." I gave her a faux reproachful glare.

As expected, she immediately flushed again, a puckered little pout forming on her lips. Her eyes lowered shyly. I was beginning to understand a bit more of how she worked, and it wasn't very far from what I'd originally observed. She acted tough, spunky, and flippant… but she really was a soft little nerd on the inside, wasn't she?

I went back and grabbed my quickly cooling mug of coffee, and an errant thought went through my head. I blinked back up at Cassie.

"Say, Cass…"

"What?" she snapped, but there was no heat in her voice. She crossed her arms and stared down at me imperiously.

"Are you a virgin?" I asked seriously.

"… Shut up!" Huh, her voice was much higher again. It was happening quite frequently, and I put thought to the back of my mind for later pondering.

"But you get so nervous when I-"

"SHUT. UP."

"I can teach-"

"JASON!"

Laughter bubbled in my chest, free and happy. "Alright, alright - but seriously, grab some coffee and get down here. There's some stuff I wanna talk to you about."

"… Whatever."

Turning away from the furiously blushing and annoyed girl, I walked over to the other side of the room in order to grab the second rolling chair from her… third computer?

All jokes aside, I needed help figuring out what to do, and who better to help than a Brocktonite hacker?

Clad in an oversized pink hoodie and torn black fishnets that was doing an admirable job at dividing my attention, Cassie took a brief break from typing on her obnoxiously loud mechanical keyboard to give me a dry glance.

"So, let me get this straight…" she began, tapping her big toe against my stomach.

Oh yeah, and she was back to being physically clingy. Her fucked up ankle was wrapped up in worn bandages and resting on her desk, but her uninjured ankle was currently resting on my lap. Thank God I put on some actual clothes, as threadbare as they were.

"Go on," I replied easily, flicking her toe. She jumped and gave me a mock glare.

"I will." Wiggling her butt in her chair and clearing her throat, Cassie looked back over to her main monitor that was opened up on some sort of Microsoft Word expy. Words in tiny font scrawled down the white page, but my vision was way too shitty to even attempt to read from my seat a few feet away.

"In Jason Black's 'Ultimate Three-Pronged Plan To Survive and Thrive', you want to: One, amass overwhelming strength and wealth via generating different abilities through your bullshit Trump power. Two, clear your name with the PRT and come out the other side a free and squeaky clean man. And finally, three… destroy the Empire-88 and piss over the burning ashes of all their assets and properties because 'fuck nazis'?"

The blank, incredulous stare that Cassie gave me after reading the first portion of her word document left me feeling a bit self-conscious. I shifted in my seat, not enjoying the feeling. "You summarized what I was telling you in a way that made it sound dumb as fuck." I spat venomously, though the venom was more like a spritz.

Cassie snorted. "Sure, but don't lie: I basically wrote what you said without the dumb flowery wordiness you were adding in to sound smart and professional."

I gaped at the pure amount of lies that were escaping from between her lips. "I am smart and professional! And destroying nazis should always be commended, not mocked." I was definitely not being petulant and acting my age right now. No sir.

Cassie shook her head, grinning in amusement. "They're assholes for sure, and I'd love to 'piss over the burning ashes of all their assets', but a good plan always starts small. You have to… build a foundation before you can start toppling entire organizations, Jay." Though her face was amused, Cassie's voice was dead serious as she stared me straight in the eye.

I probably would have been intimidated or put off by the seriousness being showcased if not for the knowledge that she was wiggling her toes beneath my shirt in search of warmth.

As it stood, I merely sighed and nodded my head. "Fine, then scratch that out for now. Step one is still salvageable, though." And speaking of 'bullshit Trump power'…

My soul sent its line out, a positively humongous charge having been built over the course of the past couple days, and the ability that it snagged itself on was… interesting. I wasn't the most knowledgeable of Warhammer, other than knowing that the universe was the incarnation of chaos and war, so I was already relatively hesitant at the idea of introducing any of that particular flavor of madness into my soul.

The fact that the ability was called 'Skull-Weave' and was based around terrifying my enemies with the whimpering and screeching skulls of my fallen foes was reason enough not to grab it. That they would be weaved into my hair and clothing was just icing on the disgusting cake. That was not my vibe at all, so I released it back into the sea.

I blinked back into focus just in time to hear Cassie's loud ass keyboard once again. "Sure it is, but I need to know more about it if you want my help. You say the time between abilities are random, but is there a limit? Are they only minor powers?" She eyed me oddly as she asked the last question, not even trying to hide the curiosity on her face.

For a moment, I thought of lying and playing dumb about my limits, but honestly… I needed someone in my corner. I wasn't so dumb and arrogant as to think that I could make it through my time in this world without a confidant, and Cassie has done absolutely nothing to make me doubt her or her intentions. There had been so many times I could've been able to hurt or kill her, and she freely lied in bed with me on the same day we met.

So, trusting my gut instincts, I looked her straight in the eyes and…

Slid on the hipster-looking sunglasses that I'd found snooping around the boxes of junk in the back of the bunker. One of the lenses had a crack in it, but I figured I'd learn magic that could fix it eventually.

Cassie blinked in confusion. "Jay, what are you doing with my-"

"I can't see you, so you can't see this," I cut her off, hoping beyond hope that my understanding of the Eyes See All or None ability was correct. As soon as the words left my mouth, that familiar sensation of an egg cracking over my head flowed through my body, and a shiver went up my spine. I wasn't one hundred percent certain, but… I was pretty sure that it worked.

Cassie stared at me. Hard. "That's another power thing, isn't it? Yesterday, you said something weird right before acting like you could see the dumpster behind us." Her head tilted lightly to the side as she studied me like I was some sort of particularly complicated syntax error.

I pinched her thigh to shake her out of it.

"Ow!"

I gave her a cheeky smirk. "It is a power thing - I get eyes on the back of my head when I say the words 'I can see what you're doing there, young man', and they can even see invisible people." Her eyes widened at the explanation.

"Woah, let me see!"

She gasped when I turned my head to the far right, blinking a couple times beneath my glasses. "What do they look like?"

"Pretty, like your normal eyes." Cassie said absently, leaning forward a bit to poke at them. It was… weird, seeing through two pairs of eyes for the second time in my life. It was also less discombobulating. Her finger went straight through the illusory pupil, not affecting my depth perception or vision in the slightest. "Weeeird."

"Pretty weird," I agreed, turning my head back to her and deactivating the ability. "And thanks."

"For what?" Cassie raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat once more and crossing her arms. "Poking 'em? Freak."

"For calling my eyes pretty," I replied easily, "I think yours are pretty mesmerizing as well." And they were, truly. Dark, smoky, almond-shaped, with long black eyelashes that gave them that feminine appeal. Ten outta ten eyes for sure.

Cassie actually managed to get through the sudden compliment without gaping or stuttering. Smiling a bit, she tucked a strand of her behind her ear and peered at me suspiciously. "… Thanks. But don't try to weasel your way out of the topic at hand."

Topic at hand? Even with my perfect memory, I lagged a little bit. Her eyes really were pretty.

Her smile faded into an impatient frown. "Your powers! What are your limits and are they limited to minor abilities, like the eye thing you have going on?" Her fingers were posed over her keyboard, and there was an eager glint in her eyes. At least she seemed invested.

"Ohhh yeah," I breathed, nodding my head. "I don't have any limits."

Cassie raised an eyebrow, impressed. "So you can have a set amount of minor and major abilities, like the golden energy constructs you made of my knife. That's actually… really fucking strong, Jay. Now, what are the limits to-"

"No, listen to me," I cut her off, looking her straight in the eye. "I don't have any limits. Period."

… Silence.

Cassie simply stared at me, all bravado and impatience wiped clean off of her face. Her eyes searched mine, likely looking for any signs that I was lying or tossing out half-truths, but clearly my penchant for blunt honesty preceded me because she let out a harsh breath a few seconds later.

A disbelieving giggle left her mouth, and she withdrew her leg from my lap. "Alright, if that's how this is gonna go… let me go grab my good weed."

I wrinkled my nose, watching her hobble towards the back of the bunker. More specifically, I watched the captivating sashay of her hips. Was it just me, or was she moving a bit more seductively than before?

"You smoke dope?"

She nearly choked on laughter.

" That's your moral boundary?!"

I snorted. Admittedly, that was a pretty fucking silly hill to die on. It wasn't like I was straight-edged; I just didn't like smoking weed because the scent was fucking gross. I knew a lot of people back in my past life who smoked it to help with chronic illnesses, however, so it wasn't surprising to me that Cassie partook. What did surprise me, and what a pleasant surprise indeed, was the sensation of my soul reaching out into the sea once more. Perhaps the Grimoire was impatient and didn't enjoy me rejecting its humbly offered 'SKULL THRONE' ability - which sounded about right, considering it actively wanted me to grow stronger. It wouldn't be offering me powerful magic otherwise.

Spoiler: Armaments (Generic MG - Free)

For most girls, this is a simple scepter or wand. But different girls are different people with different weapons. Some might have swords, some might use some might just have brass knuckles integrated into their raiment. Take up to as many power packages have been purchased. You can import any of your personal weapons into your armaments, and can later import armaments into future weapons. Armaments can be materialized to hand while transformed. Materializing a weapon will also repair it, though that will cost a small amount of magical energy.

I almost wanted to laugh victoriously at the odds. I wasn't a girl, that much was obvious, but I was not turning down a free weapon and the ability to transform said weapon into any other weapon I came across in the future. Yoink.

As I accepted the power, I could feel it reel itself into my soul, imprinting upon me a question that was less heard and more felt.

What form would my weapon take? It waited for me to summon it with my mana, a twinkle in the back of my eye in need of an owner.

I pondered the question amidst the quiet curses from Cassie as she fumbled around and searched noisily in the background.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One(Backlogged)

A Rareified Mind (Cultist Simulator - 100 CP): It would be a shame that in your quest for enlightenment you suffered a lapse of memory. It's not like some of these secret teachings can be found in the local library. This simple perk makes your memory perfect, limitless, and retroactive, while also allowing for instant recall and perfect indexing. You'll never forget any moment of your life, no matter how small, and you'll be able to recall those moments as if you were currently standing there again. As a retroactive effect, your past memories will also be affected, even if you've somehow managed to forget them.

Spoiler: Roll Two(Declined)

Skull-Weave (Warhammer Fantasy: Beastmen - 200 CP): Woven into your mane, beard, and into all manner of your shamanistic garb are skulls. Normally, this would not be out of the ordinary - but for you, these are not just simple skulls. Each one contains the consciousness of Man-filth, craven elf, or butchered dwarf, and they have been scoured of all they knew and now simply hide within their own skulls - making low whimpering and gibbering noises. When you work your magic craft, this whimpering turns into full, insane screaming. Any hated enemy who looks at these skulls, who hears their terrified insanity, will instinctively know that this is the fate that awaits them at your hands - and their soul will turn cold with fear, and shake the hand that grasps their weapon, and curdle their blood until they're ready to flee for the safety of a walled city.

Spoiler: Roll Three

Armament (Generic MG - Free): For most girls, this is a simple scepter or wand. But different girls are different people with different weapons. Some might have swords, some might use some might just have brass knuckles integrated into their raiment. Take up to as many power packages have been purchased. You can import any of your personal weapons into your armaments, and can later import armaments into future weapons. Armaments can be materialized to hand while transformed. Materializing a weapon will also repair it, though that will cost a small amount of magical energy.

1000 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Jason was a bit of a heartbreaker in the past. Autistic rizz, man - it's an actual thing. Trust me.

Chapter 8

After Cassie was sufficiently mellow'd out off some Sour Diesel, we ended up formulating a very free-form and foundational plan for operation 'Survive and Thrive' 2nd Edition.

Basically, it all centered around me - surprise surprise - becoming a Cape. I guess I was technically one already, but we didn't know just what they had on file about me in the PRT. Cassie promised that she'd work on nipping around the edges, grabbing what she could from the Protectorate's database, but their security was apparently top-notch - probably due to Dragon - and she didn't seem too confident in her hacking abilities against the world's greatest Tinker's security systems.

Which… fair enough. I had the very private knowledge that Dragon was actually an AI, but even if I hadn't known that, I probably wouldn't have tried to out-hack her.

Anyways, becoming a Cape - I was planning to take advantage of the whole 'fresh-faced vigilante looking to make a difference' shtick, preferably with significantly less of a bodycount than what I started with. We didn't have much in the way of assets for gear, either liquid or non-liquid, and the extent of my money started and ended with the small amount I managed to bum off of that old lady and the nazi asshat.

Cassie had quite a bit more than me saved up from her own side-gigs, but I was already mooching off of her generosity by staying rent-free, for now, inside of her bunker. My mom definitely didn't raise a useless bum, so I was planning to stay independent and be the one to help Cassie out financially. Eventually. For a time.

It was a work in progress.

Going out and raiding goons was a quick and dirty way to grab money in the short-term, and it came with the very real side-effect of getting me more familiarized and experienced with my magic. Call it the naivety of a new vigilante, but I couldn't really think of a better way to have my cake and eat it too than ruining the lives of some scumbags, raking in stacks of ill-begotten cash, and flexing my badass magical prowess all at the same time. Yesterday's fear had all but fled from my spirit, leaving behind an ironclad chassis of determination and zeal.

There was still the very real caution and worry about the effects of my little killing spree yesterday, but it was overshadowed by the relief of finally having a rough plan and grasp of my situation. It was crazy what a full night's rest and pretty little eyecandy could do for a man's confidence. All I needed for a night out on the prowl was a more concrete grasp of my magic - so that I could non lethally take down criminals, a rudimentary Cape outfit that properly hid my identity, and a cool name to go by. The PRT probably labeled me something as a placeholder already, and something told me that it was most likely something lame or one dimensional like 'Golden Dagger'.

Considering the fact that I'd shaped my magical Armament into an absolutely wicked, ten foot long stretch of celestial spear excellence, I obviously held no love for that name. The ostentatious design of the weapon hadn't even been of my own choosing; I'd simply demanded that the perk give me whatever weapon it felt my soul synchronized well with, and in a dazzling whirl of crimson and gold mana, the spear appeared before me.

It had scared the fuck out of Cassie too. The memory made me grin. Good times.

"And what are you smirking at?" The girl in question peered at me suspiciously from over the top of her second monitor.

I stood, barefoot and shirtless but still wearing Cassie's sunglasses, in the freshly cleared area in front of her workspace, my new weapon gripped lightly in my right hand. The disgustingly sharp tip scratched a thin, clean line across the concrete floor as I experimentally twirled it in my grasp.

"Just thinking 'bout a Cape name," I lied, twisting my wrist sharply and adding a bit of my old Drill Team flair to the movement. Spinning a rifle was completely different than spinning a weapon that could just as easily slice your arm off, but the theory was kinda the same. The spear practically whistled as it cut through the air, speeding up to a near blur as I spun it in circles and attempted to toss it between my hands. I'd been practicing the move for the past few hours after gaining the Armament ability, and while I didn't consider myself very skilled with it just yet…

The fingers on my left hand shot forward fearlessly, smoothly sliding through the minute windmill-like spin of the spear and wrapping firmly around the shaft. A sharp 'crack' echoed through the bunker as all of the rotating spear's moment abruptly snapped to a halt and bled the force directly into my wrist. Pain shot through my arm - a sharp ache that shook and quaked my bones - but I gritted my teeth and rode through it. The first few times I'd tried this little trick, surprise and pain had forced me to drop the weapon to the ground.

Around the tenth time, I got used to it and managed to keep a hold of the shaft.

Now, hours later, it had already become second-nature to simply ignore the minor ache and power through. The spear was a beautiful weapon - sharp, graceful, and deadly, with a length that allowed you to keep enemies at bay and safely dispatch them with piercing thrusts and concise, wide-sweeping slashes. I could feel my understanding of the weapon deepen as I flipped it around in my hands, stepping forward and stabbing the dangerous head at an invisible enemy. One time, two times, three times, four - each thrust was like a well-oiled piston, my arms burning with the captivating sting of muscle soreness as air whistled past my spear.

"… Woah," Cass breathed quietly, her voice managing to sound both mesmerized and impressed as she watched me train. "Get it, hotshot. You're totally showing those invisible nazis who the boss is!" In spite of the sarcasm in her words, the girl didn't even bother hiding the squeaking of her desk chair as she rolled over just enough to get a better view.

I rolled my eyes, but remained focused on the task at hand. Right before my tenth stab, I tapped into my pond-sized well of mana, urging my Weapon Magic forth with a simple flex of my will. The dip in my reserves were almost negligent as a golden, ten foot ray of pure magical energy jutted from the tip of my weapon, combining the 'woosh' of energy with the hiss of metal slicing through air. The magical energy practically doubled the length of my attack, and I knew without a doubt that anyone unsuspecting of the technique would be in for a rude and soul-crushing reality check.

I slammed my foot on the ground and twisted with the stab, sweat dripping down my skin and matting my hair to my head, and slashed towards the far wall. The golden energy left a fiery trail in the air, beautiful and ephemeral all at once, before I finished the movement and abruptly yanked my spear backwards. With a crack of displaced air, the golden energy shot forward like a launched harpoon, streaking across the bunker and skewering the concrete wall all the way through.

It left no evidence of its entry, of course - it simply looked like it'd been placed there by the person who laid the concrete. No scorch mark, no hole, nothing.

I walked forward and observed the embedded golden construct, my chest still heaving as I worked to control my breathing. The knives had done the same thing - sinking in without cutting or piercing, but they'd killed the men I had aimed at. Though, now that I thought back on it with my perfect recollection, I had been desperately trying to kill the nazis for a multitude of reasons - my identity and Cass' protection included. When I'd attacked Mac, it had been to simply get him off of her, and he hadn't died. I wanted him fucked up and incapacitated.

Maybe the trick to making the attacks nonlethal was simple willpower? The power of love? Wasn't Undertale all about that shit? The information given to me had been pretty cryptic, but if it was something as esoteric and wishy-washy as determination and meaning I'd be pretty fucking pissed. Pleased at the possibility of solving one of my biggest problems, I reached forward and ran my finger over the golden construct, dissipating it into particles of mana.

Cassie's low whistle brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned back to the lounging teenager. She was still watching me, her eyes roaming lazily down my sweating torso before she quickly returned her gaze to my face. "Ahem," she coughed, gracing me with a self-indulgent smirk, "I think I know what your Cape name should be."

"Oh?" I mentally disconnected the thread of mana willing my Armament into reality, causing the regal-looking spear to disappear in a vortex of magical energy. Cassie stared dumbly at the showy display, and I snapped my fingers to grab her attention. When she looked up at me again, she was met with an amused grin. "Focus Cass. Badass Cape names now, stroking my ego later."

"R-right. Gotta remember that my newest roommate and current only friend is Eidolon Prime. No biggie. Just another day in the Bay." She shook her head and lightly smacked her cheeks to recenter herself. When she opened her eyes and looked at me again, there was excitement on her face and a confident, upwards tilt to her chin.

"Now, I was thinking: You have this whole 'tarnished royalty' thing going, right? That majestic spear you randomly summoned three hours ago, those golden energy attacks, your stoic and nonchalant demeanor that when, combined with your annoying and handsome face, makes you seem like you're staring down your nose at a bunch of insignificant ants-"

I raised my hand like I was back in math class. The words were flying out at breakneck speeds, and though I was able to keep up, I felt like I was being both complimented and unfairly judged at the same time. "Er, I don't stare down my-"

"Shush," Cassie scrunched up her nose and frowned, and I snapped my jaw closed with an audible 'click'. "Thank you. Basically, I think we should play up the 'dashing and mysterious stranger' archetype. For instance, and this is just me spit-balling an aesthetic, but… imagine a vengeful prince, exiled from his Kingdom for cavorting with forbidden magics. He is alone and suitably edgy, with ambitious plans to reclaim the throne with the help of a cool and powerful sorceress who has been supporting him from the shadows since the beginning."

As she spoke, the nerdy little hacker's cheeks gradually began to redden, a small, lopsided smirk forming on her lips as she lost herself to her imagination. For a moment I could imagine Cassie, sans the 'cool girl' piercings and bobbed haircut, snuggled tightly in blankets and giggling quietly to herself as she browed shitty Y/N novels online. Maybe she even wrote them herself. It wouldn't have been surprising, 'cause that whole 'spit-balled aesthetic' sounded like something I would've read on Wattpad in my previous life.

I snorted at the entirely too accurate mental image. "I knew I should have looked through your browser history yesterday… probably would've made for some interesting reading material. I didn't know you were such a geek, Cass." My voice was light and teasing as I smirked at her. "You got us hella off topic."

The sound of my dry voice broke her out of her fantasies. "Alright, that's it! You're getting it Mr. Over-Inflated Ego." Cassie pouted petulantly, stamping her one good foot down on the floor and rolling her squeaky computer chair closer to me. It stopped a few feet too short, and she awkwardly pawed the floor a couple more times in order to roll the rest of the way. I merely stood there and watched, idly untangling the knots out of my messy black locks. Swinging my head around tended to tangle up the dreads.

It took her a couple seconds, especially with her bum ankle, but as soon as she was in front of me Cass wasted no time in throwing a couple jabs swiftly against my side. The technique actually wasn't bad - clearly someone had taught her how to throw a punch. It didn't hurt, and I doubted she even put much strength into the hit, but I made the conscious and empathetic decision to rub the spot and grunt anyways. Maybe it would make her feel like she didn't have the arm muscularity of a wet noodle.

"Ow…" I groaned exaggeratedly, putting my all into the Grade A acting. "Now who has the Brute rating? I think I'm gonna bruise…"

Cassie let out a disbelieving snort. "Jerk, maybe that'll teach you to silence the bull and listen when your 'girl in the chair' is briefing you," She sniffed in what was supposed to be miffed annoyance, but I spied the small smile pulling at her lips that she tried to hide by swiftly rolling backwards to her desk. "All of the 'off topic' shit is actually impo-"

I moved without really thinking about it, like my body was on autopilot. I stopped the rolling chair in its tracks by simply placing my foot in the way. Before the momentum could fully send the wheels rolling over my fragile big toe, I squatted down and dropped my arms on either side of Cassie's fishnet-clad thighs.

"Oh!" she squeaked, freezing in place.

The chair was practically stuck in place by the weight of my body, and I peered up at the wide-eyed girl and quietly studied her expression. A burst of warmth blossomed in my chest at the adorable and tantalizing sight of her ruby red lips parted open in surprise.

'What am I doing?' The thought came in, a whispered nagging in the back of my mind. Instincts and logic were at war with each other. I was attracted to this messy, bratty, criminal mess of a girl, and we had only known each other for, what, a couple days? This wasn't my first interaction with a pretty chick, and I knew that I wasn't in love or anything silly like that… but maybe my new teenage body was more prone to crushes than my adult one had been. I'd almost forgotten what that was like.

Her legs twitched at the sensation of my forearms against the sides of her thighs, as if unsure on whether or not to retreat from the contact. Our faces were close, too close, close enough to where I could smell the dark, nutty scent of coffee on her breath. I could see her dark eyes - glimmering, aroused, inexperienced - fluttering closed as she submitted to the electricity between us and instinctively relied on me to decide the best course of action.

"Uh, Jay…?" she breathed, quiet and electrified and scared. The tough girl act was all but gone at that moment.

It was so sweet and pure that I almost folded.

'Fuck, I'm horny. I'm a horny asshole and she's an innocent girl who has been alone for a long time. I shouldn't be doing this right now.' Or ever.

This was Day Two in an absolute hell-hole that was well on its way to being massacred by a glowing yellow manchild with depression. I didn't want to make things even more complicated for me than they already were. Not right now, at least, with so many uncertainties and tasks that needed doing. Like training, and stabbing goons, and… training. It definitely wasn't because I was a fatal cynicist at heart and held no real hope in the future of this world getting much brighter.

'The Grind before pleasure,' I tried to convince myself. Futilely, perhaps, but the grim reminder of just where I was shook me out of the debonair mood. It was pretty damn stupid to get too attached to somewhere you don't plan on staying for the long-term. Especially when roughly half the population of the world was living on a two year timer.

I had time to think more on it after getting to the safety of the bunker, and there was another step to my plan that I hadn't felt the need to discuss with Cassie just yet. I was still planning to get powerful and fuck up some nazis, sure - I had a taste of power, and that taste cinched my mentality of 'an eye for an eye'. But then, when I left that criminal power vacuum in Brockton Bay, I was planning to get the fuck out of dodge before Jack Slash the Gaslighter whispered his sweet nothings into the ear of Earth Bet's very own Killer Superman.

There was always the chance that I could actually kill Scion, given enough time and training and support from my very own magical cheat-code compendium, but I wasn't counting on it. And neither was I counting on things going the exact same way it went in the web series, with Taylor Hebert spearheading an army to take him out.

Butterflies, man, and for better or worse I was gonna be making a lot of waves.

I just knew that there had to be something in the Grimoire to escape into a world where the Entities couldn't touch. Places out of this multiverse entirely. Maybe I could even take a winter trip to Arendelle, meet the characters my little sister had loved so much. Disney had some pretty interesting magic, and Elsa was hot - excuse the pun.

And, at the core of all of these issues and uncertainties… I just couldn't be sure that whatever dimension-hopping magic I got would let me bring along passengers. The past taught me not to get my hopes up, and that was a really big hope to get up. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones in Worm who survived and escaped to another Earth, but she just as easily could've died as yet another statistic of the Golden Morning. For now, I could only assume that Cassie was safe for as long as I was here to keep her that way.

And after I was gone?

Well, that grim and open-ended question was why I didn't do what every bone in my body wanted to do and claim her right then and there.

"Cape names," I said suddenly, moving away from those heavy thoughts. I'd been silently staring at her for close to a minute and I got the feeling that she was seconds away from hyperventilating. "You were gonna tell me what you think my Cape name should be. Something 'mysterious and dashing', right?" I took my arms off of the chair, allowing her to move and breathe easier without my presence looming. The intimate atmosphere that had just surrounded us dissipated into thin air, but the electricity was still there.

The heat in my body was still there.

It was frustrating.

She was silent for a few seconds, just staring quietly into my eyes, before she cleared her throat and shook her head. Her face was hot and flushed, her bruised lower lip quivering for a moment before she bit it and spoke in a high, breathless voice, "Avalon."

I raised an eyebrow, latching onto the name and subsequent topic change like a lifeline. "Avalon?"

"Like King Arthur? Knights of the Round Table? Those old, dusty legends seem pretty cool and appropriately ego-boosted." Cassie said, her voice gaining more strength. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, pressing the front of her pink hoodie down with a frustrated and embarrassed frown. For her sake, I pretended not to notice.

It was also for my sake, since the thought of her panties growing wet from mere eye contact almost broke through my already flagging self-control.

'Down, boy.'

"Anyways, Avalon was this super mythical island absolutely filled with magic and mystery. King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, was created there, and it was said that all sorts of legendary wonders began and ended in Avalon." She took a breath, lips quirking up into a half-smile. "It just, I don't know… sorta reminded me of you. I just have this dumb feeling that you're like, I don't know…" She blushed again, a stubborn pout forming on her lips. "A legend in the making. Someone wondrous and unique, like back then."

She looked away from me, abashed. "You definitely felt like my own personal knight with those thugs, at least…"

'Be fucking still, heart.'

I stared at Cassie, feeling heat - a different sort of heat than before - flow up my neck and into my cheeks. My skin felt warm, and my stomach twisted a bit. It was all… annoying. Annoying, because I wasn't the type of man to get butterflies in my tummy and blush when complimented. This girl was doing things to me, and it was making me second guess myself.

So, instead of thinking more on it, I just did what I did best and dove straight into the thick of it all in order to avoid having to unpack too many messy feelings at once.

"Avalon it is then," I smiled crookedly, offering her my fist. "I 'preciate the assist, my 'cool and powerful sorceress'."

She stared at it for a moment, conflicting emotions battling for victory on her face, before a warm smirk finally won over the others. She smacked my fist with her significantly smaller one. "You did say that my coding was like techno-magic. It's only right if I get to claim that title, hehe." There was pride and warmth in her voice.

I laughed out loud - a sharp, sudden sound. "Fair enough, Cass… fair enough." Something told me that I wouldn't be rid of my 'sorceress' anytime soon, and that… was not not not a bad thing.

A sudden lurch in my gut brought my attention inwards, since it had been a few hours since the Grimoire had offered anything up. I could feel the anticipation beneath my skin, my heart instinctively lurching at the thought of finally grabbing something that could get me and Cassie out of this shitty world, and I inwardly beat that feeling down into a tiny corner in the back of my mind. That was what I was afraid of - getting my hopes up. A dimensional-traveling power was rare enough. One with space for a hanger-on? Please.

The ability offered, however, nearly made me question whether the Grimoire was actually sentient and a fan of bitter romantic dramas. It was almost poetic, in a funnily ironic way.

Spoiler: Sole Protector (Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds - 400 CP)

"We had legends. We had heroes. Lorule had hope. But all that is gone. Lorule has only me now." When you are the sole defense of something, be it a person, organization or object, to the point that your loss would result in the destruction or death of that which you are protecting, you'll find yourself in a much better position to defend it. Your intellect, reflexes, strength and magical power all receive a significant boost for the duration of the 'battle' (which can instead refer to non-combat such as a court case) until you have triumphed against your enemies or lost all that you have been fighting for.

"What are you grinning at?" Cassie suddenly asked, eyeing me with a lazily amused stare. The previous intense and sexual energy seemed to have left her tired and drained.

I looked up at the girl, still squatting in front of her rolling chair. I looked at her short black hair, baggy pink hoodie. The way that her torn fishnet squeezed firmly against the softness of her legs. The cherry red lips that I had almost covered with my own a scant few minutes ago.

'Fucking Hell.' My decision for the perk had already been made for me by my heart, but at least my mind agreed that it was a worthy purchase for the large amount of charge that I'd built up over the past while.

I accepted Sole Protector, allowing the Grimoire to reach out and reel it into my soul.

"Nothin'," I replied, standing to my feet and patting my hacker on the head. "You're a handful, you know that?"

Cassie scowled and nipped at my fingers, causing me to take a step back with a chuckle. "I didn't even do anything this time."

"Mmmhm." She did, but not on purpose.

I guess being her magical protector wasn't the worst thing in the world. Nazi Slayer, Avalon, Protector of Cute Virgin Hacker Girls… I wondered what other titles I'd gain while living on Earth Bet.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One

Sole Protector (Legend of Zelda: A Link Between Worlds - 400 CP):

"We had legends. We had heroes. Lorule had hope. But all that is gone. Lorule has only me now."

When you are the sole defense of something, be it a person, organization or object, to the point that your loss would result in the destruction or death of that which you are protecting, you'll find yourself in a much better position to defend it. Your intellect, reflexes, strength and magical power all receive a significant boost for the duration of the 'battle' (which can instead refer to non-combat such as a court case) until you have triumphed against your enemies or lost all that you have been fighting for.

800 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

So, I know some people are going to be upset at Jason not fucking Cass immediately… but hear me out! He has issues with it, her own uncertainty and Grade A 'Never Kissed A Boy' virginity not withstanding. The main reason, however, is one he outright mentioned in the chapter. Let me cook and develop the characters more, it's only day two. Don't worry though - Jay x Cassie is all but confirmed, and this is also a harem so be on the lookout for that to cause some issues later on too. We got the entire omniverse to explore, after all, and this is going to be a long story.

And for those who may call him a pussy for not wanting to stay on Earth Bet… I don't know about you, but if I had the potential to jump to a different world and avoid the bullshit that is Golden Morning… I'd do it man. Scion is bullshit.

He won't be leaving soon, though. I don't even know if there's a power in base Celestial Grimoire that can let you Jump worlds. If not I'll probably have to add one.

As always, let me know how you enjoyed the chapter.

PS: I know I hit 4000, don't worry. The second roll will be included in the next chapter, I couldn't really do it here without fucking up the flow too much. It was a fun one though! Spoiler here if you want to know beforehand:

Spoiler: Clicky

Animal Form: A shapeshifter, huh? You have the ability to change from your human form into that of a magical animal, no bigger than twice your size, no smaller than a mouse. A ferret, a dire wolf, or something a bit more fantastic… you may even be able to change into other forms aside from the one you start with, after some practice. Note that while you can change your physical traits, this usually won't give you a magical abilities associated with that form - a big dragon would get the strength and reptilian biology, but wouldn't breathe fire on their own, for example. Go forth, Jumper, and be the adorable ferret you want to be.

Chapter 9

Later That Night…

Caleb Howard wasn't the smartest tool in the shed, but he didn't care.

He was a drop-out from Winslow High, a statistical commonality of low-life thugs who became yet another crime committing goon in search of the easy money, the easy highs, and the easy confidence that came with betting your continued survival at the barrel of a switched out 9mm semi-automatic. Caleb had next to no family to worry about other than a disappointed grandma who kicked him out the second she caught him smoking crack in the attic. He usually squatted in one of the gang's traphouses, so rent was taken care of. Hell, some of his recent 'work buddies' were women with decent hygiene so it wasn't like he was lacking in romantic pursuits!

Coked-up blowjobs were the fucking best.

And so, with his life as an Archer's Bridge Merchant turning out to be everything he desired and more, Caleb was able to spend all of his time doing what he was starting to call the 'Cycle of Life' for people like him.

Fuck whores, sell dope for Skidmark, and get high off the surplus. Who could tell them no? The Merchants were still clawing up from the underground, but they at least had multiple Capes! Those other ragtag no-name gangs couldn't boast the same, and Caleb had hopped around a few circles before being recruited into the Merchants. They weren't the best, but they were gonna get there, and he couldn't fuckin' wait to ride the wave all the way to the top!

"Hell yeah," he grunted, sliding his sore-covered hand through Molly's greasy and tangled locks of auburn hair. She gagged and choked against his dick, the sloppy sounds only increasing his arousal. "We're gonna be fuckin' kings… fuuuck!"

"Mmmphhh!"

"Shut up and keep suckin', bitch." His spine tingled as pleasure mixed with the dripping euphoria of the heroin needle jabbed between the sensitive webbing of his dirty toes. "Ho's like you aren't meant to e-elev- fuuuck- elevate ya' status. You're good at suckin' dick though, mmhm. Maybe if you keep your slut legs closed to the other boys I'll bring you with me when I get promot-"

CRASH.

The raucous sound of glass exploding, a loud and shrill noise, echoed through the dark warehouse. Caleb froze, his cloudy eyes blurrily opening. He was more upset about Molly stopping the sloppy top than he was at whatever the fuck the other gangsters were doing outside of the dirty bathroom.

He clumsily cuffed the spooked woman over the head, ignoring her wince of shame. The shitty scent of clogged-up refuse from the toilet was already bad enough ambience. He didn't wanna get blue balls because the bitch was scared over every big noise. "The fuck you stop for?" His words slurred as the drugs cycled through his system.

Molly, twenty something years old and light skin, probably would've looked good back before the Merchants got ahold of her. Now, with crusted on make-up and pores the size of raisins, she looked about as well as she felt - which, with fear flushing the high out of her body, was quite shit. "I-I'm sorry! But you ain't hear that noise? What- what if it's a hero or somethin'…"

Caleb groaned loudly, leaning back on the grimy porcelain toilet and shaking his quickly softening dick. Anger was clear on his face. "They're probably just doin' stupid shit. Now you got me all soft 'n shit with your whining ass bitchin'!"

Molly shrunk back, her pupils dilating in fear. "I'm sorry daddy." She hesitatingly started stroking his small, shrunken dick again, but her movements were jerky and unsure now - and Caleb was starting to lose interest. If she couldn't handle a lil' bit of Brockton Bay chaos in the foreground then she wasn't worth bringing up in his grand scheme to become Skid's second-in-command. He'd find another slut.

"Fuck off," he spat, pushing her back on her ass and fumbling to pull his pants up. Molly didn't hesitate to scramble to her feet and flee - good riddance. The sound of rushing footsteps and loud, angry voices were growing louder, and Caleb wanted to see what the fuck was going on that was so crazy that they had to sound like motherfucking elephants in a China shop.

There was no way that a buncha heroes actually busted into their warehouse - they had a nice, hidden spot on the far side of the Docks and no stupid Capes had shown any signs of taking notice. At least, that's what some of the other guys said in passing. Caleb sorta just got high and occasionally sold dope to stupid kids on their way to his old high school.

It was when Caleb had finally shimmied his pants up his asscheeks and cinched his belt - which was an awkward ass task while sitting on the toilet - that a bone-shaking scream of gunfire abruptly tore through the air, sending his inebriated mind for a whirl. Surprise found him yelping and falling back on the toilet, his head slamming harshly against the concrete wall.

"Ah, fuck!"

Dizziness and vertigo dulled his senses. He wiggled his toes again, but the high wasn't high enough to completely soak up the pain. It felt like the back of his head was bleeding. And maybe he did have to actually shit, now that he was sitting down again. His stomach was hurting a lot… like, a lot. It was a cold, cramping, unfamiliar pain - vaguely, he wondered if period cramps felt the same way. If so, then he'd understand why so many bitches were so god damned high strung.

This, though… this didn't feel right. "Ughhh…" he groaned, neck lolling and darkness pulling at the edge of his vision. Something was wrong… terribly, horribly fuckin' wrong.

With all of his willpower, Caleb threw his neck forward, fighting through the darkness to chance a glance at his cramping stomach. It felt like his soul was being squeezed out of his fucking bellybutton.

A gleaming, golden spear - masterfully crafted, even if he had no fucking idea about the artistic expertise needed to create weapons - jutted through his stomach like a harpoon through a whale's blubber. It went out at least eight feet, clearing the stall's doorway and pointing at the grimy and cracked mirror of the bathroom. His vision was actually starting to completely go, but vaguely, as he stared at his reflection with the big ass golden spear sticking through his gut, Caleb had to wonder…

Where the fuck was the blood?

I missed.

In my defense, it was hard to multitask launching my Weapon Magic at a thug sideways-shooting an uzi at me with seemingly no regard for his fellow gangbangers and groupies. The golden spear only barely missed the shooter as I teleported a short distance behind a ratty, torn-up couch. Although I couldn't see where it hit - probably the wall behind the asshole - I immediately dissipated the construct just in case it bored completely through the concrete and hit some innocent bystander standing on the other side.

Not that I thought that there were any innocent bystanders in the most stereotypical crackhouse I'd ever seen, but y'know… collateral, right? I was trying to be more mindful.

"Aye, Rico - the bastard's behind the couch! I got him pinned!" The uzi-toting Merchant yelled over to another thug, this one gripping a baseball bat and standing with his knees trembling. I could just barely see him from behind my cover - a young guy, probably only a couple years older than me, wearing a sports jacket, gray tanktop, and a gold chain.

"Listen, homes-" Rico stammered, his Spanish accent thickened with his fear, "I-I was supposed to just stop by and grab some bricks. I ain't tryna fight no Cape! This ain't even my bat!"

And that was true enough. After I broke in through the second floor's window and Gate of Babylon'd the duo of gangsters up there playing cards, the third goon I hadn't seen sitting in the shadows had run downstairs screaming about a cape. He had been the one with the baseball bat, and he had also been kicked down said flight of stairs after I panic-ported behind him and slammed my ratty sneakers up his ass. Said bat clonking down the stairs, in addition to the man's panicked screams as he went alongside his weapon, had alerted the rest of the drug den.

Not that I was too worried. No, rather - in that moment, I felt a sort of… zen overtake me? It wasn't anything crazy like complete and utter calm in the face of mortal danger, but I was here, now, with more abilities than I had a day ago and a more concrete understanding of how to leverage them. These were just your run of the mill lowlives, and if I couldn't take them out then I just had to be the most disappointing fucker to gain the Celestial Grimoire.

My heartbeat steadily in my chest, sweat dripped down my cheek from inside my plastic Dollar Tree opera mask, and my fingers clenched and unclenched in heady anticipation. It was time to clean house.

"Fuckin' pussy, go hit the fucker before I shoot you in the face!" The uzi-toting goon turned on Rico, spitting out obscenities as he flagged his own fucking teammate, and I blinked owlishly. "If you runnin' our shit, you a part of this!"

Rico raised his bat fearfully and backed away. "A-aye man, aim the gun back at the fucking Cape!"

Druggies really weren't the smartest of opponents. Random as all fuck and belligerent, but definitely not smart.

'Then again,' I thought, tensing my body in preparation as my second pair of eyes noticed the surprisingly quiet asshole rushing me from behind with a knife, 'It's not like they know I got like ten powers at this point.'

His lunge was suitably quick and impressive, but the strangled and half-mad battle-cry he let out was less so.

Some would call me foolhardy or arrogant for keeping still, crouched behind the couch, as a gangster rushed me from behind with a knife… but those people would be underestimating just how life-changing having an honest to God second pair of eyes were. He didn't know I knew he was there. His movements, though quick for his size, were clumsy and not graceful in the slightest. I wasn't a martial artist, but I knew a bit about hand-to-hand combat even outside of Heroic Aptitude being a bit of a cheat. This guy was trash.

My elbow lashed backwards just as the bastard came within arms length with his suicidal charge.

"Ack!"

I could feel something warbly and soft reverberate and squish at the strength in the blow, but I didn't stop to feel empathy - it was only a matter of time before the uzi was being sprayed at me again and I did not think the hand-me-down leather jacket and t-shirt I was wearing would save me from bullets. I reached up as the thug folded over my shoulder and tightly cinched my right arm around his neck, choking off the pained groan he was letting out. A flex of my back and a sharp jerk of my shoulder and the thug flew bodily through the air in a controlled descent right to my feet, the bones in his neck creaking and the breath blasting out of his lungs from the pseudo-judo throw. He wheezed out what sounded like 'please'.

I didn't hesitate to slam my elbow once, twice into his forehead, hopefully sending him off to lala-land without too much cranial trauma. If he did end up with a few screws loose, though… well, I don't think I'd lose too much sleep. Perks of having a few of 'em loose myself.

I looked up, my mind as focused as it had ever been, just in time to hear the thug with the gun shout 'shit' and aim his piece at me again. At this point, despite having spent the better part of four years training with the damned things, I was getting sick of guns. My blood was still pumping, reflexes screaming at my body to do a dozen and one fucking things to get the Hell outta the way, and so I moved.

Woosh.

Bullets tore another vengeful streak through the crackhouse, sending stone chips and dried paint scattering through the musky air, but my magic was already surging through my core.

"Fuck, he keeps disappearin'!" The thug screeched, whipping his head around in circles.

Motherfuckers never looked up. It really was like the movies.

One golden spear cut through the air over the goon's head, moving too fast for his stupid dumb brain to keep up with. It moved with pinpoint accuracy - I was getting quite good at maneuvering the oversized toothpicks - and skewered his wrist to the ground, sending the uzi clattering across the floor. Just as it did so, sending him harshly to his knees with a scream of pain, I landed foot-first on his head like black Mario, goomba-stomping his teeth into the messy floor and scattering those too.

He was still alive, at least… just in need of a decent dentist.

That only left Rico. I whipped my head to the right, raising my hand and calling my magic to bear - only to pause.

The hispanic young man stood, eyes wide and lips trembling, with a dirty, ratty young woman with smudged makeup gripped tightly against his chest. The gun that the other thug had dropped was held in his shaking right hand, pressed too tightly against the woman's head. The sight made me want to smile wryly at the genericness of it all - not because a woman was being held hostage - but I figured that that would be fucked up of me so I frowned instead.

"I could probably send a spear through your eye before you could pull the trigger, y'know." My stoic voice was casual, almost conversational. I didn't see a reason to bother with voice modulators, so its deep, youthful richness - something that had gotten me laid quite often back in college - was on full display. He seemed taken aback by the sound of my voice, probably expecting me to sound like a demon or something. With the way that his already bugged out eyes widened even more fearfully at my statement, it wouldn't have surprised me.

"Señor, ten piedad de nosotros…" he muttered woodenly beneath his breath. I heard it, and it only took a brief second of remembering Spanish lessons with my perfect memory to translate the words.

"Sure," I did smile this time, although he couldn't see it beneath my mask, "Just let the hooker go and I won't crucify you like they did my son." I probably shouldn't have been joking with the seriousness of the situation at hand, but hey - dark humor got me through almost all of my tribulations. I was a bit nervous here, truth be told. Getting an innocent killed on my first night out was not what I considered a win.

The woman blanched at my words. "I-I'm not a hooker!" Tears and snot ran from her eyes and nose, and the sight almost had me cringing away. "Please help me! I don't want to die!"

"Shut… shut up!" Rico screamed, his arm tightening around the woman's neck. She let out a choked sob as the thug took a staggered step backwards, his fingers twitching. "Both of you, shut up! You're not a fuckin' God, you freak… you're a hero. Right?! Imma kill her if you don't let me go!"

The bastard was starting to get desperate, and desperation bred mistakes. Lethal mistakes. My blood ran even hotter through my veins, synapses firing one after the other, and I could feel my brain working faster and faster in the heat of the moment. Time didn't necessarily slow down, but my perception of the situation grew significantly as the stress peeled back and the realization of the situation truly set in. If I summoned magic like before, he'd panic and shoot. He was more than ten feet away, so a teleport wouldn't work - and if I tried to chain teleport, he could get the shot off in-between.

I was this woman's only chance at getting out of this alive, and that responsibility… well, it weighed heavily. But it also empowered me. Sole Protector was no joke - I felt like I could bench press a fucking car. Not that it would help here.

But my enhanced perception and intellect definitely would. This man was nervous and desperate, but he was also not like the other goons. Sure, he was a drug-dealer, but I doubted he partook as often as other Merchants. His clothing seemed relatively nice, his teeth were clean, and the chain looked real… he was probably just doing drug runs for them as an independent dealer, rather than being a part of their gang. His pupils were shrunken in fear, but the telltale signs of drug-use that I could remember reading about back when I first got high and had an anxiety attack wasn't showing.

The guy was sober. Scared, desperate, and judging by how his hands were shaking… he probably didn't wanna kill the woman.

I activated Force of Spirit and took a step forward. Even with that one step, my body felt too light. Too reactive. It was invigorating.

"Aye, not another step p-puta!" He moved with me, taking a step back that was double the distance of my own. Too bad for him that he wasn't closer to the door.

"Rico," I said coolly, raising both hands to show that I wasn't doing anything aggressive. My ability had me lowering my tone into one of disappointment, a genuine pitch change that even had me fooled for a second. "This ain't you, man."

He swallowed thickly, both brows practically disappearing into his beanie as he stared. "H-how the fuck do you know my name?" He hesitated, not moving back when I took another step forward.

'Ol' gummy-mouth over there said it,' I thought, but of course he wouldn't remember that. He was sober, not smart - and panic already had him jumping at shadows and stumbling over his words. There was no way for him to remember that fact right now.

"I know you, man. We used to hang out back in Uni, before… y'know." I definitely didn't know, but Rico had the bearings of a linebacker. Big, broad-shouldered, a bit dumb… I could definitely see him playing sports. He didn't immediately call me out on my bullshit, so I dove further into Force of Spirits and added a bit of grimness to my voice. "Shit sucked, seein' you just get expelled like that… but I told you to stop selling on campus, man." I cringed beneath my mask at the pure amount of bull coming out of my mouth. At this point, I was prepared to chance threading the needle with my Weapon Magic if push came to shove. There was no way I actually guessed-

"… Jamal?" Rico gaped in shock, his mouth falling open. "Homes, when did you become a Cape? And- and why are you bustin' up the Merchants? Skidmark ain't the one to mess with, man!" There was desperation in his voice, like before, but this time it was different. He seemed like he was pleading for me to leave the crackhose… alone? Who the fuck was Jamal? And why did I feel like I was starting to get a peek into a dramatic backstory that I wanted no part in?

"I'm sorry," I said tightly, not even having to fake the pain in my voice. This was getting painfully ridiculous.

"Nah." Rico's voice broke as he took a step forward, his large size easily carrying the woman in his arm's with him as he glared at me. "Nah, nah, nah. You gotta answer me, man. You just stopped returnin' my calls-"

He took another step forward… and I acted.

A woosh of displaced air was the only warning the emotional thug had before I was only a few steps away. Sole Protector bolstered my body, overcharging my muscles and brain and allowing me to move with a brisk strength that my otherwise normal human body would never be able to manage alone. My fist found purchase against the thug's nose alongside the sound of bones crunching and blood spurting, and the man instinctively let go of the woman to scream and stifle the bleeding. His eyes were probably watering too - getting hit in the nose was no fucking joke.

I gripped her by the front of her shirt and easily threw her back towards the couch, the eyes glaring from the back of my head watching as she flew through the air and landed, with a loud grunt, on top of the disgusting cushions. My first pair of eyes, however, was too busy pinning Rico down as I did a little hop-up and slammed my right foot out in an explosive kick. It was like a mallet slamming into a slab of beef; his eyes practically bugged out of his head, saliva mingling with the blood from his broken nose as my size 12s knocked all of the breath out of his lungs - and probably fractured a few ribs, too.

He bodily flew backwards, airborne for a few feet, before his body slammed against the floor and he went skidding towards the far wall. He didn't make a single noise other than a low, warbling groan that sounded like a bull getting fucked, so I dismissed the golden spear that had started floating out of the shadows above his prone body.

For once in the past ten or so minutes, silence took over the previous chaotic din of the crackhouse. Other than the faint relieved sobbing I could hear coming from the huddled form of the not-hooker, every thug inside the warehouse had been taken out. Without being killed, too - something I was expressly proud of. What I wasn't proud of was the Peter Pan perk the Grimoire attempted to slide towards my soul, which I pushed away after a brief inner look. It would basically make me a Siren, luring men and women to the ocean in order to fuck and drown them.

I didn't even like swimming, man. Give me something better, like a Bankai or Domain Expansion or something.

Sighing, I turned to make my way over to the woman. Now that all the threats were taken out, Sole Protector's amplification effects faded from my body, calming my previously rushing blood and making me feel distinctively… dumber. Less perceptive.

"Hey," I said quietly as I reached the sobbing women, crouching down beside the couch. "Not sure if these were your buddies or if they had you locked up her or whatever, but they're taken care of."

I would've done something more comforting, like touch her knee or pat her head… but she did not seem very clean. I didn't mean to be a dickhead, but there were only a couple reasons why a woman would be wearing high heels, no panties, and a torn mini-skirt. I had no desire to touch what was probably fucking or sucking a Merchant minutes prior.

"… THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!" With a cry, the woman lunged forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, muttering 'thank you' every second as she nestled her dirty face into my t-shirt. I… had to resist the urge to dodge back or throw her off of me. Instead, I ignored my instincts and carefully patted her on her back.

God, she stank.

"It's cool," I muttered comfortingly, grimacing beneath my mask. "I got you."

Calming her down and sending her off to wherever the fuck women of the night went took a few minutes, but it wasn't like I was on some super serious time crunch. We were in the part of the Docks where cops very specifically ignored the sounds of gunfire and screaming, so I wasn't worried about my potential looting being interrupted by badges.

What did worry me a bit was the fact that we were pretty solidly in ABB territory, and the Merchants were just the type of ratty ass bastards to skirt between the shadows and peddle their wares right beneath the noses of giants. I'd seen quite a few assholes strutting around the area rocking red and green, and it was only a matter of time before they became curious about the noise and sent people to investigate.

Thugs, I was pretty confident I could handle. Oni Lee? Maybe not without a bit more of a power-up.

Lung?… I wasn't really looking to test the literal fucking human dragon with just Weapon Magic at my disposal.

So, with that distinctively worrisome thought wiggling in the back of my mind, I began to loot everything that looked even remotely valuable. There were plenty of duffle bags lying around, a lot of 'em filled with drugs of varying size and types, but the one that interested me the most was on the second floor, beside the table where the unconscious thugs had been playing cards.

Opening it up, I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight. Stacks of cash in different denominations practically spilled out the top as I unzipped it. Twenties, tens, hundreds, even rolled-up dollar coins that were unique to Earth Bet - I wasn't gonna take the time to count each individually stack, but I estimated that there was, at minimum, four or so grand just chilling in the duffel. It made sense, though - drugs were fucking profitable, and you had to have cash in order to keep the supply and demand flowing. This was probably remnants, if anything - the majority was probably given to Skidmark or whatever mook lieutenants he had in his ragtag gang.

Quickly, I threw the duffle bag over my shoulder and scoured the rest of the warehouse for more valuables. In total, outside of what I found in the duffel, I probably grabbed an additional five hundred just out of wallets and strewn randomly across tables in the kitchen and rec area. Someone had even shoved dirty twenties in between the cushions of the couch. Rico's chain and watch was also thrown in with the rest of the money, and after a moment of thought I put the uzi in there too. Cassie needed more protection down in that little bunker of hers, and she definitely wasn't the type to go in with fists swinging.

It took me about ten more minutes to get everything stored away in the duffel bag, but finally I was ready to get the fuck out of dodge. Things had gone smoothly for the most part, and the last thing I wanted to deal with was Lady Luck putting on a strap and fucking me in the ass at the last second.

Grabbing Rico's phone, I meandered my way back to the 'living room' of the crackhouse and collapsed back on the dirty couch. With the money I'd collected, I could finally buy some decent fucking clothes and maybe even commission an actual Cape outfit. The stains from tonight's drug den assault would be nothing but a distant memory come morning, so my aversion to the nasty stains and weird scents abated a little.

A quick dial of the emergency hotline later, and I was greeted by the bored voice of what sounded like a middle-aged woman.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Yo," I responded, languidly crossing my ankle over my knee. "I'm Avalon, a new hero. While patrolling I came across a Merchant drug den. I don't like drugs, so I showed 'em the errors of their ways. Can you send someone to pick them up?"

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before she spoke again, her voice still boredly professional… but a tad curious, maybe.

"… Avalon, huh? Interesting. We'll have a squad sent as soon as possible. Are there any other Parahumans on the scene, Avalon?"

I glanced around with both sets of eyes. Bullet-holes riddled the wall behind me, four bodies were knocked unconscious and definitely not getting up anytime soon, and two more were sleeping upstairs. A bunch of mooks, maybe, but no parahumans.

I smirked. "Nah, just little ol' me."

The cockiness in my voice could probably be heard over the phone, because when Miss Dispatcher spoke again, there was a definite edge of tempered amusement coloring her tone. "Little. Right. Well, on behalf of Brockton Bay, thank you for your assistance Avalon. Stay safe."

"No promises."

Feeling light, I ended the call with a 'click' and tossed the phone behind me. At the same time, the Grimoire tentatively, almost shyly, offered forth another mote of light like a peace offering- this one larger than the previous and infinitely more interesting to me. It was Warhammer again - a universe that I was unsure of and unfamiliar with - but it didn't say anything about skulls of the dying or screams of tortured souls. No, rather it offered a boon that seemed… wildly useful for the small amount of charge it asked for. And I was tempted. By the God above, I was fucking tempted.

Spoiler: Omni-Disciplinary Mage (Warhammer Fantasy: High Elves - 200 CP)

While it certainly isn't overly talked about, given the prevalence of the auspiciousness of High Magic, the Asur Mages have access to every other common Lore of magic. Yes indeed, odd as it may be to think of a noble High Elf utilizing the Lore of Shadows, or Death, you can certainly do so if the Qhaysh is truly not to your liking. Furthermore, from here onwards you will have unilateral access to every avenue of magic you encounter that is not restricted by something like race, or otherwise secret.

What the fuck even was High Magic, or 'Asur Mages'?

These cryptic terms made me unsure of taking the plunge, but the thought that I'd have access to every avenue of magic I encounter for the foreseeable future was something that I just couldn't refuse on a common-sense level. Wasn't this something that I so desperately needed in a world like Worm? Sure, I wouldn't be accessing any foreign magic while living in a world without magic, but what about when I left Earth Bet? So many worlds utilized different types of magic, and I was a greedy man. I wanted all the fucking magic, even if only to one day sit at the top of a massive wizard tower and shit my excellency down on the peasants below.

'This better not turn me into a fucking High Elf or something… ' I inwardly sighed, allowing my soul the chance to reach forward and hook around the mote of light.

Even as I reeled in the perk and synchronized it with my soul, I shouldered my duffel-bag and made my way briskly towards the exit. Warhammer Fantasy magic or no, I still had things I had to do tonight. Serious things - things that would ruin me and my quest if I didn't do them.

Cassie had given me a shopping list, being the temporary cripple that she was, and I had to grab some important things on my way back to the hideout. Fortunately, I had perfect memory and memorized everything.

First destination? The sleepy bistro on the corner of Barksdale Road, down in the Southern Docks. Hopefully they were still open.

Apparently the little hacker was absolutely obsessed with their pizza bagels. Considering I'd only had coffee all day, well… I'd probably end up becoming obsessed too.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One(Declined)

They'll Sweetly Drown You (Peter Pan - 100 CP): Drowning is said to be a bad way to go, but a mermaid can make it into something to die for. You have a beautiful, perfect appearance that can make victims fall over themselves. Furthermore, you have a personality to match, able to exude cheery innocence and mysterious seductiveness as you see fit. All of this is meant for the express purpose of a mermaid's favorite pastime: drowning. You might stun a victim with your beauty and turn the drowning into a sensual if fatal encounter. Or you might treat your drowning efforts as a playful game, with an endearing innocence that makes few people willing to hate you even as you try to drown them, or willing to intervene. You don't even need to speak a word; a simple smile or gentle caress on the hand is enough to get them into the water and never come back out. The skill works best for drowning people, but in general makes it easier to kill people without facing significant resistance; it can also be useful for extracting favors or information from people. Even so, it only increases the likelihood of people cooperating - it does not guarantee it, especially once they get in the water. The perk's power is strengthened with Siren's Song and vice versa.

Spoiler: Roll Two

Omni-Disciplinary Mage (Warhammer Fantasy: High Elves - 200): While it certainly isn't overly talked about, given the prevalence of the auspiciousness of High Magic, the Asur Mages have access to every other common Lore of magic. Yes indeed, odd as it may be to think of a noble High Elf utilizing the Lore of Shadows, or Death, you can certainly do so if the Qhaysh is truly not to your liking. Furthermore, from here onwards you will have unilateral access to every avenue of magic you encounter that is not restricted by something like race, or otherwise secret.

800 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

We get to see a bit of action from Jason's side, annnnd… I'm gonna have to do some Warhammer research. Send me some information about it to help out! Also, would this turn him into a 'High Elf'? I genuinely can't tell from the perk, but I'm leaning towards 'no' if the Weapon Magic didn't turn him into a monster.

Also, you'll see what he chose for his first animal form next chapter. If you can guess what it is, I'll… I don't know, let you choose someone for Jason to meet/stumble across in the next few chapters. The only hint I give is that it can fly.

Chapter 10

So, the good news about my latest magic perk - my ears didn't grow into sharp tips, and my hair didn't lengthen to cover my lower back. Explaining that away as yet another Trump thing to Cass would've been nigh on impossible.

The decidedly neutral news that I wasn't sure would come and bite me in the ass later? Well…

All around me, unseen to my normal human eyes, but apparent to the more esoteric peepers at the back of my head, the Winds of Magic thrummed and flowed through the night's sky like wispy, smoky tendrils of beautifully cryptic colors. Describing these 'Winds' seemed almost impossible to my novice eye, other than the very solid color each discernible energy seemed to be composed of. They thrummed and moved randomly, fading in and out as they flowed in directions all around me to different areas of Brockton Bay.

The magic wasn't superimposed enough to make the other aspects of my second vision useless, thankfully. The more common ones like Aqshy appeared more like red-tinted heat waves, or the thin gray of Ulgu appearing as smoggy gray mist that wouldn't be too dissimilar to old factories blowing out fumes.

Suddenly having this new seventh… 'sense' forced upon my being was dizzying. Nauseating. And it wasn't just sight - I could practically taste the magic in the air now. Something tasted like burnt cinnamon rolls.

'And just when I thought I was getting used to having four eyes… '

I dropped flat on my ass on the dark, nondescript rooftop that I'd landed on minutes ago, once the Winds started getting noticeable and the weight of knowledge the Grimoire force-dumped in my head became too obnoxious to temporarily ignore. I needed to get back to Cassie's bunker with the loot, I knew this more than anything else, but if I didn't at least index the sudden lump of arcane knowledge plaguing my brain I felt like flying would not go as smooth as the first time around.

Exhaling softly, I allowed my senses to reach out, only barely stroking the surface of the different Winds as I went through them in my mind.

Aqshy, the Red Wind, and the Lore of Fire.

Azyr, the Blue Wind, and the Lore of Heavens.

Chamon, the Yellow Wind, and the Lore of Metal.

Ghur, the Brown Wind, and the Lore of Beasts.

Ghyran, the Green Wind, and the Lore of Life.

Hysh, the White Wind, and the Lore of Light.

Shyish, the Purple Wind, and the Lore of Death.

And finally, Ulgu, the Grey Wind, and the Lore of Shadows.

Omni-Disciplinary Mage gave me a burgeoning understanding and connection to each of the eight Winds of Magic, alongside what felt like a big ass headache-inducing crash course on the overall study of the Aethyr. I wasn't an all-encompassing master by any means, but if I had to throw a lowballing guess out there I'd say that I was probably the equivalent to a newly minted, fresh-faced Asur mage with high potential.

It was exceedingly rare for a human to juggle just two Winds of Magic without fucking up and creating a chaotic mess that just wasn't worth the effort… but I wasn't just a normal human. I was a human with a Celestial Grimoire, and for the measly sum of a fairly insignificant charge, it saw fit to give me the same potential and talent for the Aethyr as a pureblooded High Elf.

The threat of corruption and mutation was still there, I was pretty sure. I had no intention of going too fast with my new power-up, because the knowledge of what rushing and being careless with the Winds of Magic could do to you was something that made even me green at the gills, but the effects of what I could do with this was… immense.

Fortunately I was in Worm, not Warhammer, and I was pretty sure the Celestial Grimoire didn't allow unfair bleed-through with existential, demonic entities of Corruption and Chaos. At least, my gut instinct was telling me that I was safe in that regard. The Aethyr was most definitely brought along for the ride, just as the Winds of Magic now flowed through Earth Bet, but I was almost certainly the only one capable of harnessing its power.

Hopefully that meant whatever Gods or Daemons that were frolicking around in the Warp in the actual Warhammer Fantasy universe stayed their scary asses over there. I had my hands full enough with overpowered aliens with hacks over here.

Over-all, this did nothing to change my original plan. Sure, I had more tools in my toolbox to fuck over the big bads of this universe, but more tools were just that - tools. I had no interest in attempting to venture into and study the Warp, or to check and see if my assumptions about the Chaos Beings were actually correct. I doubted that the Celestial Grimoire even plopped Warp Gates down into Earth Bet anyway, because that sounded like a whole different ball game from the perk I received.

I thought about it for a second and shook my head. Yeah, nah, I was good on that. I just wanted to beat up assholes, train and enjoy my motherfucking magic, and get the Hell off of Earth Bet. The Winds of Magic could either come along for the ride or fuck off, but I wasn't about to change everything about myself to suit anything I collected from the Grimoire. It was there to assist and supplement me, not the other way around. I would treat the Aethyr with due respect as I practiced and studied its magic and spells, but that was all.

The resoluteness of my thoughts bolstered my flagging energy. It was getting late, and my latest perk was a fucking mental drain to inwardly wax on about. 'That's it then,' I nodded to myself, a smile growing on my lips. More soul-searching and magical experimentation could wait until I was in a secure location.

For now, I allowed my bootleg Second Sight to fade away, immediately feeling the lack of pressure in the back of my head as the illusionary eyes sank back into my skin. With them deactivated, the Winds of Magic were once again hidden to my naked eyes - though, with a bit of extra focus, I could feel the energy flowing around me.

Fortunately, It wasn't like I needed it for my current favorite method of travel.

I shrugged the duffle bag off of my shoulders and reached inwards, grasping for that ever-shifting nugget of power nestled snugly amongst the other motes of light in my soul. Animal Form was a perk I'd gotten during some point last night, and it was, quite possibly, my favorite magic from the Grimoire so far. It wasn't the strongest, of course - the creature I shifted into could only be twice the size of my body and it lacked any magical properties, so I couldn't just shift into Godzilla and turn Medhall into a radioactive crater.

It didn't need to be strong, though. Being able to fly and move, unimpeded for the most part, as any unassuming animal was worth its weight in gold! I wasn't sure how many beast-shifting Capes there were in Brockton Bay, but considering the only animal-themed person I could remember reading about was Bitch, I was leaning towards 'not many'.

It was the ultimate disguise!

If… I hadn't chosen a fucking flying serpent as my first form.

In my defense, who wouldn't choose something positively badass if they could turn into any creature, mythical or mundane? My instinctive first thought had immediately been 'dragon', but that whole song and dance had already been picked clean by both Lung and the AI chick that was quite literally named 'Dragon', so I went with my second thought and chose a Quetzalcoatl. The fact that the perk allowed me to choose its coloration was just icing on the cake.

The transformation was seamless and magical, as expected from an ability that originated from an anime like Lyrical Nanoha. My body began to glow a bright white, like I was a Pokemon in the middle of an evolution. There was no snapping of bones or pulling of muscle - one moment I was glowing white, and the next I was slipping high into the cloudy night sky with the hefty, cash-filled duffle bag wrapped around the end of my tail.

In that moment, if one had night vision, incredibly good eyesight, and a penchant for randomly looking up at the night sky, they would see a midnight black, twelve foot long serpent with large, soft-looking wings that barely seemed to move as it slithered its way through the air. Long, beautiful plumes of feathers the color of the rainbow flowed back from its regal, snake-like skull and flowed gently with the wind, the shimmering of colors seeming almost unnatural in its vibrancy.

I was waxing poetically about my own animal form inside of my own head, but how could I not? I looked fucking majestic - as expected of the Feathered Serpent God - and pride dictated that I flower up my own mental description a little bit.

Still, I made sure to coast closer to the clouds as I flew back towards the bunker. I doubted anyone could see me, even with the colorful plume of feathers around my neck. That was one aspect that I curiously couldn't change about the form, not that I minded overly much. Utility and stealth was important, but so was looking fly. Plus, with a bit of practice I could shift into other animals too. I wasn't stupid - if it was a one-off thing, I definitely would have chosen something more practical for the situation I was in, but that was the thing with the Grimoire.

More often than not, you had choices. There were almost always going to be choices. That's what made being a mage so fucking awesome.

I'm not ashamed to say that I let out a cacophony of trills and whistles as I twisted and shimmied through the night sky, as free as a… well, mythical snake-like bird of legend.

"What's the password?"

Cassie's tiredly amused voice was tinny and a bit robotic as it came through the blank black screen on the bunker's sole entry door.

Back in my human form once again, I adjusted the duffle on my back and let out a sigh. My Second Sight - which I'd started to call my second pair of eyes - was activated just in case someone had actually managed to keep track and follow my journey through the clouds, and so far the coast seemed pretty clear. The bunker was in a nicely hidden spot anyway, though, so I guess the paranoia was a bit unwarranted.

"… C.I.T.G.H." I finally spoke up after letting the silence build for a few moments longer.

"And what does that acronym stand for?" There was a hidden glee in the girl's voice as she practically purred the words out. She was enjoying this little roleplay. It sorta made me wonder what other situations she enjoyed roleplaying. Nerdy chicks were some of the kinkiest bitches in the fucking world.

I grinned, entertained in spite of my physical and mental tiredness. As hot as the thought of more salacious roleplay was, I wanted to needle the brat a bit more. "Damn, I think I forgot. Something 'bout a chicken's indigestion?" Boredly, I scratched my fingernails on the dried bloodstain littering the sleeve of my borrowed leather jacket, flaking off the burgundy pieces.

"… Say it or no entry pal. Rules are rules." The deadpan on Cassie's face was felt, even through the screen. My grin grew.

"I actually forgot. Scout's honor." It was impossible for me to forget things.

There was silence for a couple of beats, and then…

"Jaaaay!" Cassie didn't scream, which me and my ears were thankful for, but her voice pitched upwards in that natural way it did whenever her cool girl persona was prodded apart. I could practically see her little red lips pouting already. "We came up with the code together, asshole. Why you gotta shit on my fun? Huh?"

I tapped the screen lightly with my index finger. My voice was composed and dry when I responded. "If you don't open up I'm gonna miss the window to grab the pizza bagels. Plus, I still gotta grab some things from your list." I'd only come back to drop off the duffle bag full of looted money, stolen jewelry, and illegal weaponry. Something told me that entering a bistro masked-up and carrying a duffle wasn't the greatest look in the world, and I was still hoping to avoid the PRT until I had a bit more of a positive name for myself as 'Avalon'.

Stormy silence was Cassie's only response. I sighed again, but patience cooled any and all vestiges of annoyance. I was cool with playing our little game… whatever that game was. Women, as a whole, were fairly easy to understand once you've experienced a wide enough variety of 'em. Cassie needed a little bit of give and take.

"But if my amazing and adorable hacker wants to eat coffee beans and dollar coins tonight instead, I could just stay out here. Alone. Without your soft, pliable little butt to keep me comp-"

Only my sharpened reflexes, honed from the night's drug bust and yesterday's nazi struggle, kept me from being smacked by the bunker's door abruptly swinging outwards. I calmly stepped back just in time, which coincidentally sync'd with the Celestial Grimoire offering me another mote of light in the guise of Oneiromancy, which seemed to be another sorcery from the World of Darkness. It was the magic of… peeping into others' dreams? Rather unimpressive compared to my last few purchases, and I did not want to get into the habit of just accepting any shiny new spell.

I had a decent amount to work with right now, in addition to the veritable score of spells that the Aethyr introduced to me. I needed time to study, optimize, and ultimately synergize the things that I had so far. 'I'll pass for now. Not really the type to go lurkin' in dreams anyway."

Inwardly shooing the mote of light away from my All-Star team of magical abilities, I closed the large metal door behind me and headed down the hatch into the bunker proper. Cassie was waiting expectantly at her usual computer setup when I slid down the ladder, her cheeks flushed and her arms crossed over the mosquito bites she called tits.

She looked like she wanted to say something, especially when her eyes drifted over the duffle bag, but curiosity faded immediately into concern when she noticed the blood on my sleeve. "Hey, welcome back. I was gonna call you a perv when you came down but… you okay?" The usual fake spikiness was gone, replaced by a stubborn gentleness as she rolled her chair closer. Her hand reached out to touch the bloodied sleeve.

I pulled the arm away before she could touch it. At her hurt look, I waved a hand. "It's not mine. I don't want you catching gonorrhea because you touched a druggie's blood."

Understanding passed over her face and her mouth opened into a cute little circle. "Ohhhhh."

"Yeah," I smirked amusedly, pulling the jacket off and leaving me in a plain white t-shirt and jeans. The jacket was promptly tossed to the side. "Remind me to burn that and the rest of my clothes later on. Daddy's gotta go get cigs." I was still on a time crunch after all, and I was really fucking hungry. Like, nauseatingly so.

Ignoring Cassie's embarrassed sputtering of 'daddy?!' and dropping the duffle bag on the ground near her computer, I began making my way towards the ladder again. The hacker watched me, stupefied, but I wasn't really one to hesitate with my fingers up my ass if I could help it. The quicker I got these chores done and food in my belly, the quicker I could look a bit further into the Winds of Magic and see exactly what sort of spells I could do. Already I could think of a couple from Hysh that could help Cass with her dislocated ankle.

Whether or not I would risk my first attempt at channeling the Winds on healing my hacker was up for debate, but I'd get to that point when I got there.

"Wait!"

I paused at the foot of the ladder, my hand already resting on one of the cold metal rungs. I didn't need to turn my head to see Cass, slowly and tenderly, rising out of her chair in order to limp over to me, but I did so anyway in order to avoid creeping her out with my Second Sight.

"Hm?"

I tilted my head, watching as the petite asian girl shifted demurely on her feet in front of me. 'Demure' would not be a term that I used to describe the exterior she puts out as a self-defense mechanism, but once you dug into the layers… my instincts were usually pretty on point when it came to women, and ever since I met Cassie I had a feeling that she was a complete bottom. A closet one, maybe, but a bottom all the same.

"What, I get a kiss for good luck? Fast Food lines can get a bit brazy at night." A rakish grin pulled at my lips.

"Shut up," she huffed loudly, though there was no heat in her words - only on her cheeks. Taking another step forward, Cassie steadfastly ignored my staring and wrapped her arms around my waist. I caught only a glimpse of her eyes squeezing shut and her teeth worrying anxiously at her lower lip before she slammed her face into my chest and practically tried to crawl into my skin with how tight she hugged me. I let out a grunt at the impact, staggering back a couple inches.

"Woah," I raised an eyebrow in bemusement but wrapped my arms around her in turn. Warmth coalesced in my chest, toasting me to my bones and filling me with a heady, giddy feeling. I smiled in spite of myself. "What's this for?"

Cassie mumbled something into my shirt, but it came out like 'uhhhhwanyutobesef', so I gently pinched her on the ass to get a better understanding of her words. It was unfortunately over the draping lapels of her pink hoodie, so I didn't get to actually touch it. For fuckin' shame.

"Ow!" she jumped in surprise, but didn't detangle herself from my arms. Her face peeled back, however, showing the disgruntled scowl on her lips. "You smell like shit, jerk. And I said…" Her stubborn frown puckered into an embarrassed pout. "… I want you to be safe. You did good tonight, but you're tired and hungry. I can tell. Don't do anything crazy, Jay… just be safe." The earnestness in her voice was strong, bulldozing straight through the clear anxiety and nervousness she was feeling, and I could practically feel her concern for me.

It… felt nice. Better than nice.

I inclined my head and cleared my throat. "… Yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Cass." My voice definitely did not almost crack at the end. I'd spear anyone who says otherwise.

"Good."

Neither of us mentioned how we may have stayed in that hug for longer than what was strictly necessary for a platonic send-off.

It felt right, and that was all that mattered.

"That one? Ah, kid - that phone's one of the newer models - a NuTek 6, brand new. I only got that particular one in stock because of a rush order that was canceled too late. Lowest I can go is 500."

I eyed the pot bellied pawnshop owner with a dead-eyed stare, not even bothering to say what was going on in my mind in that moment. I wasn't a technological genius, but a brief scroll through the exceedingly generic smartphone on the counter showed that it was nothing crazy to write home about. Fairly advanced for what was effectively 2011, but Earth Bet did have Tinkertech to influence the world's technological advancements.

Regardless, the front glass was lightly scratched and someone had forgotten to clear out the photo library. I'd even caught a glimpse of an uncircumcised dick pic before I managed to scroll past. It was not worth no 600 dollars.

Perhaps it was my glare, or maybe it was Force of Spirit passively increasing the aura of intimidation around me, but something in the man broke. He sighed, exaggeratingly loud, and pretended to peer at something in his ledger. I could read the minute emotions flashing through his face - clearly working as a shopkeeper didn't give him any actual talent at schooling his features.

First it had been greed when I'd walked into the store. A lean black teenager with messy black dreadlocks and bargain-bin clothing? He probably thought I was gonna sell some stolen goods he could fuck me over on.

Then, it was annoyance when I opened my mouth and spoke in a tone of voice that practically oozed with self-confidence and intellect. Every attempt to swindle me with random knick-knacks and oily deals were rebuffed.

And now, it was a despondent acceptance when he realized that this transaction just wasn't worth pissing off a potentially dangerous client. He eyed me nervously as he spoke. "I, er… must have gotten the order mixed up with a different one. That NuTek has been here for a while, and it's one of the older versions. Lower quality camera… or somethin'. I can let it go for 300."

I raised an eyebrow. Half the price was pretty substantial, but that probably meant that the actual value was still much lower. Your first lowered price was never the actual worth of the merchandise - ample amounts of fanfiction taught me that. Plus I'd never purchased an old, hand-me-down iPhone for anything more than 200 back at home. "100." I responded evenly, crossing my arms.

The store owner snorted, shaking his head with an ugly smile. "They go for 750 when they're factory new. I'm only going down to 300 because it's well-used and people aren't really picking 'em up like hotcakes anymore." He eyed me oddly, then. "Not that people often go to pawn shops for quality phone selection."

There was probably shit that he wanted to unpack there, but I ignored it. The take-out bag of pizza bagels were starting to cool, and even though I'd already eaten a few inbetween store visits I still wanted to get back before the cheese became all plastic-y and gross.

"150, then." I decided with finality.

The man's face became cloudy with bubbling over annoyance. "Did you not hear what I just-"

"The phone had some loser's chode in the photo gallery," I cut him off, leaning forward against the counter. He leaned back in response, eyes widening at my sudden intensity, and I pressed my finger down on the smudged screen of the smartphone. "Shit hasn't been cleaned out so I'll probably have to buy a new sim card. The screen has scratches all along the glass, and dirty, dead skin cells tucked into the corners."

A scowl formed on my lips. "The least you can do is sell it for 150, what with all the bullshit I'm gonna have to do to dress it up."

As if in response to my frustration, a tug in my gut temporarily brought my attention inwards. The Celestial Grimoire was starting to surge once again, hyping itself up after my last rejection in order to grab yet another magical ability. That, at least, improved my mood a little.

The portly man grimaced. For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, but then thought better of it when he looked up at my frowning visage. "Fine," he agreed sullenly. Just like that, I accomplished the last chore of the night - purchasing a phone that Cassie could Tinker with to her heart's content. I was looking forward to seeing what sort of programs she had in store for me to try out.

As the clerk was ringing up my purchase, alongside a couple things that I figured I'd grab as well - like a charger, a matte black case, and a pair of wireless earbuds - the ring of the door opening and closing behind me had me turning my head to check. My Second Sight was obviously deactivated, considering the fact that a second pair of eyes while inside of a brightly lit store would spell me out to be a Cape to literally any civilian.

"Heyyy Joe! If it isn't my favorite scam… artist?" The girl's voice slowly trailed off when she realized that there was another person in the pawnshop despite the time quickly nearing midnight. I tilted my head and slowly grabbed the bag offered to me.

"Oh great, just what I need… another freakin' hard nut. Whaddya want tonight, Lisa?"

It was a blonde girl around maybe sixteen years of age, with fair skin, a cute dash of freckles across her nose, and bottlecap green eyes. She, for all intents and purposes, looked completely normal in a snug-looking gray hoodie and black yoga pants, but I knew better. My bodily control was better than it used to be, but even I couldn't stop the sudden lurch in my heartbeat when I recognized just who she was.

What other blonde-haired, green-eyed teenager with the name 'Lisa' was there in Brockton Bay, after all?

I wasn't scared or anything, but suddenly seeing a character that I'd read so much about online just… exist there, in the flesh, surprised even me. Dully, I was beyond thankful that I had replaced my mask with Cassie's sunglasses. Hopefully that kept the nosy girl from getting all up in my business with her Sherlock Holmes bullshit, but I couldn't really know for sure. As loved as she was by countless readers in my previous life, I couldn't imagine that she could be anything but a headache for me right now.

I just had too many secrets, and her power was just too fucking unpredictable.

"… Just the usual, old man. My, uh, dog chewed up the last bundle of ethernet cords I got from you." Lisa responded to the old man distractedly, still staring dead at me without any sense of propriety or tact. I shrugged, turning away from the girl, and slid a couple hundred dollars out of my pocket - remnants from the fallen nazi, may he never rest in peace.

"Keep the change."

'Joe' stared hard at me for a second before begrudgingly nodding his head, seemingly satisfied with the trade. "Hmph, thanks… good luck with the phone. Now let me see here… cords, cords, cords-"

The Grimoire finally wrangled in the mote of light it had been searching for, and as I turned away from the counter and took a step towards the exit of the door. I couldn't check it out, however, as the blondie almost immediately intercepted me. Her gaze was inquisitive, green eyes almost glinting as she stared me down - which was crazy, 'cause I had a full head of height on her. She uttered no words - other than the sound of old Joe moving boxes of electronics around in the back, there was only silence. I probably could have counted the amount of freckles dotting the bridge of her nose in the time it took her to finally speak.

Just as I was about to physically grab her by the biceps and move her ass out of the way, she addressed me with a cocked eyebrow. "So… what's your name Mister Tall, Dark, and wears sunglasses at night? It's not often that Joe's the one losing out on a deal."

"I'm the one walking outta here with no more cash," I smiled wryly, adjusting the mass of plastic bags in my grip. "Don't know if I'd call that winning."

That actually got a dry snort out of her. A distinctly vulpine smile formed on her lips, creasing the corners in a way that implied she smirked or grinned quite often. "Money can always be earned," she waved dismissively, "Just like names, which I guess you're going to make me work for. Fine."

Straightening her back and smiling a bit more with her teeth, the criminal shoved her hand out towards me. Her voice was a smidge more confident when she spoke again. "My name's Lisa, although Joe already spoiled that unprompted. Asshole. It's nice to meet you."

Polite and straightforward… I really couldn't blow her off without seeming like a straight up asshole. Which, to be fair, I sometimes was, but what harm would shaking the chick's hand cause? It wasn't like this meeting meant anything in the overall scope of things, and after she lost interest in me and my riveting presence we'd both go our separate ways and probably never see each other again. Somehow, I doubted the Undersiders were gonna be moving in the same circles as me.

Sigh.

Fuck it, we ball.

Forcing on a teeth-baring grin of my own, I reached forward and grasped her hand in mind. "The name's Jason. It's… nice meetin' you too, Lisa."

As we shook hands and she stared pinpricks at me once again, something eased up in her shoulders. Her smile turned positively radiant. "Heh, you seem like a pretty interesting guy, Jason - very… quiet. Chill. I think we're gonna be good friends."

Maybe it was the way she said it, or the way that her eyes seemed to sparkle in curiosity, but those words gave me an odd feeling in my gut. Anxiety? No. Anticipation, maybe? It could just be that I was completely and utterly drained, and my mind was jumping at shadows.

Her words sounded innocent and genuine, but something was telling me that I was missing something happening in the background of our interaction.

Something pretty damn important.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One(Declined)

Sorcery - Oneiromancy (One Dot) (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP): The magic of dreams. Entering, manipulating, and transersing. Unlike most forms of magic, this Path does not cost the caster any form of energy. [1] The dreamwalker gets flashes of the dreams of their target, with whom they must be in direct, physical contact. These flashes can, with some difficulty, be interpreted.

Spoiler: Roll Two(Revealed Next Chapter)

Sleight of Hand (DC Occult - 100): You've had a good deal of practice at stage magic, street magic, or something in between. In addition to great skill at card tricks and various other illusions, you're none too shabby at picking locks and pockets. With some practice, you may even be good enough to do things like steal a watch right off of someone's wrist.

900 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

I was writing the pawn shop portion and felt like introducing a character would be cool there, and my mind said 'Tattletale!' So… there she is. Whether she ends up actually becoming a friend is uncertain at this point. The picture I used is just for a general appearance. It isn't the outfit she's wearing in the story. They're both appearing as civvies right now.

Chapter 11

Midnight had long since fallen across the dark, cloudy Brockton Bay sky, and one Lisa Wilbourn was once again anticipating another long, sleepless night of doing what she did best, outside of getting discounts at pawn shops and pissing off old men - that is, running intel work for the Undersiders' next gig. It wasn't supposed to be a big one; Coil was still 'testing' them with relatively low-octane jobs, and the money was decent enough - for now - to excuse kicking in a few doors and scaring the pants off some civilians. Now, if only the night was young enough for her to finish up her work and do a bit of snooping into the identity of one positively curious civilian boy named…

"… Want a pizza bagel? The cheese is pretty cool now, so it ain't the best, but…" Jason glanced down at her as they walked down the sidewalk towards the bus station. More specifically, he was walking her to the bus station after she bought her bag of 40 ft. ethernet cables. He'd offered after she made a throwaway joke - purposefully, of course - about the dangers of walking the streets alone at night.

He didn't seem worried or hesitant when he offered, which implied that it came from a genuine place of kindness… or maybe it was more of a masculine urge to protect a 'helpless' teenage girl? She couldn't see his eyes from beneath his glasses, and his lower face - albeit handsome and strong-jawed - rarely shifted out of a neutral frown or dry smirk. She couldn't get a freaking read on him!

And that… wasn't a bad thing? Maybe? Oh, it grated for sure… made her feel like she was walking on a tightrope with a blindfold on and no parachute, but maybe she needed a bit of that? It wasn't like everything needed to be a puzzle waiting to be solved.

But even then, she found herself studying what was exposed of his face, his bearing, his presence - the way he still looked down at her as they walked, seemingly unperturbed by her silence. What could he possibly be thinking about, to not seem awkward in the face of what had to be an uncomfortable gap in conversation to him?

'…..'

Nothing. Maybe… maybe she was approaching things the wrong way? He was broad-shouldered, clearly built athletically with defined biceps and triceps and a vascularity to his forearms. She could only assume that his legs were similarly corded with lean muscle beneath his jeans. Maybe he was only walking with her in order to rob her for the money she'd 'accidentally' flashed while paying for her purchases? To bait out such a reaction had been why she'd done it, after all.

'…..'

Her lip twitched, stuck between amusement and annoyance. This fucking guy…

"Silent rejection, eh? Fair," His deep voice brought her eyes back up to the dark lenses of his sunglasses. "I probably wouldn't wanna eat lukewarm cheese at 12 AM either. 'Specially being lactose intolerant… shit sucks, literally." A crooked grin quirked at the corner of his mouth.

Lisa found herself grinning back.

Usually, this would be the part where her powers told her something like 'Smiling too wide. Sweat beading temple. Eyes drifted down for 1.7 seconds too long. Is looking at my chest. Is turned on by the impression of my breasts'… and then would come the disgusting little factoids that she didn't want to know at all, like what whatever man - be them adult or teen like her - wanted, sexually. The debasement. The shame - unfounded, and even more infuriating to feel when it wasn't even her fault.

Here, though…

'….'

Lisa blinked at the little, unfamiliar flutter of warmth trickling through her tummy. Without the eye-rolling, embarrassing little quirks and dirty little secrets hanging over his head like a miasma, she had to admit… 'Jason with the glasses' was pretty cute.

"Lactose intolerant, huh?" She let out a fake wince of sympathy and shook her head side to side, her dark blonde braid whipping over her shoulder at the movement. "Sucks to suck I guess - I wouldn't be able to survive without coffee. Whole milk, three extra sugars, a big ass dollop of creamer. Gets me through long nights." And she was looking forward to enjoying a nice big mug as soon as she got back to the hideout. Coffee truly was God's gift to this shitty, dog eat dog world.

Her new acquaintance side-eyed her appreciatively for a moment. "Long nights like these?" He asked lightly, inclining his head up towards the night sky. A dry tone entered his voice. "Careful with the caffeine after midnight. I've partaken before, and I gotta say… there are fates worse than lacking toes. Like 'toddler ants'. Brrr."

A heavy-handed, corny play of words on the term 'lactose intolerance' - Lisa saw it coming a mile away, even without her powers working towards her benefit, but the teenage girl still found herself, quite against her will, snorting and choking on her saliva at the absolute deadpan delivery. It was funny because it wasn't funny, and sometimes those were the best fucking jokes. She kinda… liked how this conversation was going. She felt, not necessarily relaxed, but free? Untethered?

"Y-you…" Lisa snorted again, before exhaling harshly and covering up her giggles with an unimpressed frown, "Ahem. You're absolutely terrible. Truly a 0/10 joke. Definitely stick to your day job, handsome."

"We saw the type of cash my 'day job' rakes in already. Shitty stand-up comedy is probably a rare gem in Brockton Bay. I could make it work."

Jason's face morphed into another one of his crooked smiles. That was another thing she noticed about him - even without her powers, Lisa knew she was quick on the uptake, and something about the way that the other teen played with the emotions on his face and in his voice reminded her of a hotter, more witty Alec. It was possibly some sort of disorder, because his smiles and grins felt… not forced, but deliberate. As if he chose to smile rather than felt the urge naturally.

It didn't put her off, but it definitely upped the mystique factor. Lisa could feel her brain practically abuzz with questions and curiosities that would make a professional interrogator blanch, but she knew she couldn't scare him off like that. No, Jason gave her the vibe of someone with easy confidence. He wasn't afraid to break off and do his own thing. He was probably pretty popular in school, too. If she wanted to learn more about this mystery boy, she'd have to play the long con.

It wasn't as if the tasks Coil was having them do were too big-name or strenuous. She could afford a little side-project that didn't involve planning how to fuck over her boss.

Abruptly, Lisa realized that she'd been staring at him for the past few seconds without replying. She'd been doing that a lot over the past hour - but sometimes her brain just ran away from her when there was a mystery she wanted to crack.

Not wanting to flounder the banter they had going on, she hurried to reply. "Right, so what is your day job anyway, mystery man? I'm guessing you're a student, but you had two hundred bucks so you gotta be working part-time." A solid question that would give her a bit more information to work with when she inevitably looked him up. Lisa mentally patted herself on the back.

The boy quirked an eyebrow at her. "Dropped out. School's not really my scene," he shrugged easily, before stopping in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk.

Lisa stopped as well, having been watching him attentively to read whatever stray emotion he allowed to fall over his face. Before pestering him about answering the actual question, she noticed that they were coming up right behind the empty bus stop. The bus wasn't there, but she had already planned out her late night outing beforehand - barring any interruptions, it would be coming around the corner in the next five to ten minutes. Probably sooner, since she'd spent extra time talking with Jason.

He'd done what he said he would do and walked her safely to the bus stop… but Lisa was not satisfied. She wanted to talk to him more, learn more about him, what made him tick, maybe even get him to open up a bit about whatever power he possessed that made him immune to her Thinker abilities. She couldn't be sure that he was an active cape, although her gut instinct was telling her that he probably was considering his athletic body and unflappable countenance, but even if he wasn't, she had to admit to herself that she still simply… enjoyed his presence.

The fact that he was possibly immune to other Thinkers was definitely a not-inconsiderable prospect that beget further inquiries as well.

"Huh. Well, looks like we made it in one piece," she said, turning away from the worn bus stop bench and peering up at Jason. "Thanks for the walk and talk, Jason. Means a lot to a defenseless maiden like me." The sharp curvature of her smirking lips laid to rest any possibility of her actually meaning that description, and the boy clearly knew.

He simply waved his free hand idly, the other gripping four different plastic bags over one broad shoulder.

"Don't mention it, Lisa. Stay safe and watch your coffee intake. I've seen great men and women fall to its temptation." His neutral frown pulled up into a little grin. "Be better."

"So dramatic," she laughed, but didn't turn away. "I'll keep that in mind big guy. You stay safe too. Watch out for your little 'toddler ant' problem tonight!"

"Heh, will do. Later." He turned on his heel, hand still raised in goodbye.

"I'll see you around."

And she would.

As she walked back to the bench and sat down, dropping the bag of internet cords down by her feet and kicking back in the uncomfortable seat, Lisa watched his retreating form disappear into the darkness of the night. She hadn't managed to concoct her original plan of grabbing his phone number since she had been, admittedly, pretty off of her game through most of their conversation, but there was always next time. Brockton Bay was big, but she had contacts of her own and a pretty useful ability when it came to finding out things. The information she managed to glean tonight had been minimal with Jason's Thinker Immunity, but if her superpower was the only analytical thing about her then Lisa wouldn't have as much pride in her abilities as she did.

Her smirk grew, and as she settled in for the small wait Lisa allowed her fingers to stroke the safety of the silenced pistol resting deep in the pocket of her hoodie. You could never be sure at this time of night, and there was no way she'd let some goon get the jump on her if she could help it.

Even then, with the scariness of Brockton Bay's nightlife surrounding her in its shady embrace, the criminal found her mind drifting back to that mysterious boy.

'Yeah,' she thought languidly, ignoring the slight fluttering in her gut. 'Mysterious, indeed. For now.'

Spoiler: A/N

Nothing too big here, just wanted to put out a small chapter showing the aftermath of the Tattletale interaction since I know some people were skeevy on it. Nothing major happened, no gang-press or big reveals. Just a girl talking to a guy that she finds interesting. I'll probably drop another chapter tonight since this one is a fraction of my usual length.

Chapter 12

"You know, these aren't too bad reheated."

"See? I told you - the Bayside Bistro is un-fucking-challenged, mark my words!"

CHOMP.

I chuckled through a mouthful of food, eyeing the cheerfully chewing Cassie thoughtfully. The smell of melted cheese, sizzling pepperoni, and buttered bread filled the compact bunker - a tantalizing smell that had my stomach rumbling in spite of the fact that we were actively chowing down on the pizza bagels.

Cassie and I were lounging comfortably on a pallet of worn quilted blankets and throw pillows, two paper plates stacked with reheated, pizza-y goodness placed between us. I'd felt bad when I got back, actually - the tired little hacker had fallen asleep at her computer while waiting up for me, and me approaching the door had apparently triggered some sort of motion detection software she had installed. I wouldn't have been able to get in without her waking up regardless, but I still felt pretty bad.

I was late coming back because of one wily, nosy ass Thinker, after all. Walking her to the bus stop and shooting the shit had taken a little longer than I'd expected, but I didn't regret the conversation we had. It was inane drivel, just some bullshit casual talk that she'd probably forget about later that night, but it gave me a bit more of a feel for the real Lisa and not what I remembered from wiki pages and online stories.

My take on the infamous 'Tattletale'? She was curious to the point of it possibly being a detriment to her own safety. She was obviously playing some sort of game, but it was a subtle one outside of her inquisitive stares that I figured was her prodding for answers from her power.

Was I worried about her, though? No. Call it overconfidence or simply the self-assurance of a man who knew his strengths, but I had nothing to fear from the Undersiders if they tried anything. I wasn't completely certain if my Second Sight allowed me to see through Grue's darkness, or if Regent's nervous system bullshit was countered by his Shard not being able to perceive me with my hater blockers on, but the only heavy-hitter they actually had was Bitch since Taylor shouldn't have met them yet. Her dogs were the only real threat I could see challenging me if I went all out against the team, and unluckily for them I was a wizard.

You do not want to fuck with a wizard who has both intel and prep time unless you, yourself, have a wizard. Especially when I had actual spells now.

Then again, I had doubts that Tattletale would sic her little criminal crew after me. The true threat in their corner, surpassing Bitch's mutated good boys, was Coil. If anything, she'd probably want to manipulate me into helping her take him out. However she planned to do that I had no fucking idea, but it was something to keep in mind. And speaking of Coil-

"Hm… awfully introspective over there," Cassie observed, stifling a yawn behind her hand. After smacking her lips and grabbing another bagel, the girl fixed me with a narrow-eyed stare. "And I doubt you're pondering the mysteries of Bayside Bistro pizza bagels. Penny for your thoughts, oh wise one?"

I brushed a few crumbs off of my hands and lied fully back onto the quilts, clasping my hands behind my head. "Sure, if you got the cash," I replied, bemused. "You hidin' pennies in your panties now, Cassie? Tch, lemme see."

She jerked back with a flush, bagel clenched between her teeth and hands scrambling to cover the front of her lacy black panties. I was being nice, too; I hadn't even mention the way that her nipples were poking through the thin white fabric of her crop top, or the way it rode up just enough over her belly-button to reveal the fact that it was pierced. "Shtop bein' a pherv!" Cassie demanded through a mouthful of cheap 'Italian' cuisine.

"Stop talking with your mouth full." I shot back, turning on my side to face her with an entertained tilt on my lips. I idly scratched my lower back as I watched her furiously chew while shooting daggers at me.

Gulp.

"Whew. Fine," she huffed, carefully adjusting her ankle's position on one of the throw pillows. "But no doing that dumb thing where you avoid questions by throwing me off. You're not as sneaky as you think you are, you know."

I blinked up at her, meeting her stubborn gaze with my own tired one. "Oh really?" I asked lightly, the amused smirk still resting on my lips.

"Really."

"Really really?"

"R-really really!" Her eyes twitched in annoyance.

"Damn, two 'reallys' huh? Tough crowd." I sighed, closing my eyes and wondering how to approach the conversation. Despite my teasing and avoidance of the subject, I wasn't against clueing Cassie in on my nightly outings. She wasn't someone I would probably ever want to bring into the field, but she really was like my Barbara Gordon - or, rather, she would be once we got my currently charging smartphone properly equipped. The issue lied around the amount of information to give her.

I couldn't exactly say that I knew a ridiculous amount of information about most of the major players in Brockton Bay, and that I'd been thinking about the best way to take some of 'em out. That would bring in questions that I specifically did not want to answer. Plus, in the unlikely chance that her hermit ass actually met Tattletale, revealing that I knew Lisa's Cape identity was just asking for trouble. My little hacker didn't have the same hater blockers that I had.

Maybe partial truths were the best way to go. Plus, we could get some things handled that I'd been planning on taking care of in the morning. We were both already awake, after all.

Opening my eyes, I narrowed my gaze at the impatiently waiting girl, stopping her fidgeting in its tracks.

"Fine."

"What is it? You weren't thinking about some evil shit, were you? You make me wonder sometimes." She watched me warily, a smudge of pepperoni sauce staining the corner of her lips. The sight almost made me break my serious facade, but I persevered.

"I was thinking about some of the heavy hitters in the Bay, and how I'd handle 'em if they decided they wanted a piece of Avalon's heroic ass. I still wanna knock the nazis off the map, but the odds of me getting that done without others hopping into the mix is low." I shrugged my shoulders - or, shrugged as much as I could while lying on my side.

"… I see," Cassie breathed, her own face becoming thoughtful as she absorbed my words. "So who are we going after first? Are we still doing the 'smash and grab' plan against random Merchants? Which, by the way - was a really good haul." She closed her eyes and nodded twice, seemingly proud of my accomplishments.

I blinked at her, temporarily ignoring the last part. "'We'?" I winced, frowning. "Listen, Cass, I don't think you-"

She cut me off quicker than I could even get out a full sentence. "Nope! Nuh-uh. Not listening. Jay, if you think I'm letting you do this whole 'vengeful vendetta' thing on your own, you've got another thing coming. Like my foot up your ass. I wasn't kidding when I said that I'd support you from the beginning." Her face was deathly serious as she glared down at me, and I couldn't resist the half grin that formed on my lips.

The pizza stain was still there.

"Relax," I chuckled, leaning forward a bit on my elbows and swiping my lightly across the corner of her pouty red lips. "I'm not saying you can't help. Just… stay here, let me kick the doors in. You can help me a lot more from a distance. As long as that's understood, we're good." Sleight of Hand, the minor ability that the Grimoire offered to me earlier at the pawn shop, was fairly straightforward with its description - I basically gained the skills of a talented street magician, with all the dextrous hand movements and illusionary tricks that came with it.

More importantly in this situation though, I was able to slide my thumb across the pizza sauce and swipe it away before Cassie's brain even had the chance to register my skin against hers.

She sputtered when she realized what happened, but I was already licking the tasty sauce off of the pad of my thumb. Her eyes widened and gleamed, and the previously frustrated flush on her pale skin darkened to a more rosy hue. "J-Jason! That's… germs, you freak." She stared down at my lips and swallowed nervously.

This time I actually snorted. "Germs? What are we, ten?" The sauce was a little cold, but overall not bad. A solid seven.

"You- Ugh, focus Cass! Cape stuff!" Cassie shook her head sharply and lightly smacked her warm cheeks with both hands - something I noticed she did quite often around me. " Freakin' tease… anyway, I can agree to that. I prefer to stay back and gather intel, make super illeg- I mean useful programs, and find stuff out with my super cool hacking abilities. N-not that I can't stab a bitch."

The short hacker pantomimed stabbing someone with a knife, quite clumsily might I add, and I simply nodded my head to make her feel good about herself. "So badass."

She grinned, sheepish. "Your smartphone should be ready by the morning, too. While it was charging, I turned it on and installed one of my personal eSIM, as well as connecting you to the provider I use. Everything else should be cleared off." Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the memory of something, and I winced.

"You saw dude's dick pic?"

"Blech. It was like a fuzzy pink pig in a blanket."

We both shuddered.

"I'm sorry you had to see that… but thank you. Feels nice to have someone in my corner." I gave her a warm smile - or as warm as I could make it. Seeing just how much she seemed to preen at the praise, I figured I'd try something that had been on my mind for a little while now. The affection-starved brat routine reminded me of an ex, and from what I remembered about girls like Cassie, they enjoyed positive affirmation to an almost ridiculous degree.

I leaned forward a bit more, satisfied when she didn't instinctively move back, and gently ran my hand through her silky black hair. The scent of her blueberry shampoo still lingered in the air, and I immediately caught a whiff when I moved in closer. Lowering the volume of my voice, causing it to become an almost gentle and intimate whisper, I patted Cassie on the head.

"You've been a very good girl. Keep up the good work, Cass."

She froze, her dark eyes wide like a deer caught in the forest by a large predator. Her body seemed to shudder beneath my lidded gaze, and I watched as she bit her lip and looked away.

…

"Eeeee!"

I had to lean away as the red-faced girl suddenly shot to her feet, practically hopping on her one good leg as she made a mad dash for my phone. It was charging peacefully on her computer desk, and she sweeped it into her hands before making a beeline straight to the bathroom. It would've been amusing if it hadn't happened so abruptly.

"Ineedtopoopimsorry!"

Her voice was high-pitched once again, though I was starting to suspect that it was her actual voice as opposed to the low, throaty pitch she used while pretending to be 'cool'. I only managed to catch a few seconds of her butt jiggling with her bouncing stride before she disappeared through the doorway.

A privacy curtain fell a second later, accompanied by the sound of water running. I hadn't even noticed that there was a curtain in the bathroom - she definitely hadn't used it before. And why was she showering again when she already-

'… Ohhh.'

I chuckled wryly, falling back on my ass. Maybe I did tease her a little bit too much.

Well, it wasn't like I was the type to get embarrassed about things like this. Sexual desire and arousal was completely normal, and masturbation was just a facet of life that most people participated in. Hell, I'd been extremely tempted when I woke up this morning but my willpower to resist the urge was probably a fair bit stronger than your average man-turned-teenager.

Still, the thought of Cassie, only a few dozen feet away, rubbing herself to the thought of me was quickly trying that flagging willpower. It was only Day 2 on Earth Bet and I was acting like a horny teen.

Which, I guess I technically was now?

Fuck it, topic change - magic. The Grimoire was waking up once again, tossing its hook into the sea and aiming for a certain mote of light. At this point, with my experience with reeling in different abilities, I felt as if I could sort of feel where the hook was going. It wasn't as clear as being able to predict or understand the magic before it reached it, but I was able to get a feel for what type of magic it was aiming for. In this moment I was getting a feeling of Benevolence; something that would assist me in a supplemental and supportive fashion.

When the Grimoire finally wrapped around it, I knew I was right on the money.

Spoiler: Gauldur Amulet (The Elder Scrolls - 200 CP)

A powerful amulet crafted by Archmage Gauldur and stolen by his three sons, the Gauldur amulet is a useful asset to anyone. It greatly enhances the health, magicka, and stamina of the wearer.

And it was finally something I recognized! The Gauldur Amulet was a pretty basic piece of gear from Skyrim in comparison to a lot of the magical equipment you could find or enchant there, but a flat boost to my health, magic, and stamina was not something you simply took for granted. So far the Grimoire had been pretty stingy when it came to actual magical items, so I was already tempted to take it purely to say I had a magical fucking necklace. The bonuses that came with it simply made me feel good about using a small portion of my collected charge.

The Grimoire yanked the mote of light into my soul at my behest, and I smiled at the warmth that settled in alongside the other pieces of arcane delight. "I wonder how it works without any numerical stats to increase…" As far as I was aware, after all, I didn't have a reference for my 'health, magicka, and stamina'.

There was only one way to find out.

Reaching inward, I called upon the magic item and willed it to appear on my lap. It did so immediately, falling onto my leg with the quiet clatter of carved wood and old bone. The amulet wasn't the prettiest sight, but it certainly appeared mythical. The amulet itself was made from some type of petrified wood, carved with what I could only assume were Nordic runes. It was attached to a slim leather cord and accompanied by what appeared to be polished teeth of varying sizes. Over-all it wouldn't be winning any beauty contests, but what was a mythical mage without his weird and oddly designed magical trinkets?

Without any further hesitation I slipped the amulet over my head, allowing it to rest comfortably against the middle of my chest. The wood was cool to the touch, and anticipation had me clenching my toes.

A few seconds passed.

"… Nothing chang-"

A sudden shock, like that first sip of McDonald's Sprite, shot through my spine like lightning. It wasn't painful, however - it was… invigorating. Energizing. My flagging energy felt like it was suddenly topped off by a double shot of espresso, and the minor aches and pains that I'd been feeling after a day of kicking ass suddenly faded away into nothingness. My mana core flexed and shuddered, that medium-sized pond becoming even larger as magic flooded my chest from the amulet.

This was… a lot cooler than what it did in Skyrim. Fuck you Todd, why not give the Dragonborn immersive and euphoric power-ups too?

"Alright," I grinned, the onrush of magic and energy making me excited to do some more experimentation, "Let's finally do some fuckin' magic."

Half naked and cheesing, I settled myself into a meditative pose and whispered the activation phrase for Second Sight. Immediately, the Winds of Magic made themselves known to me - or, at least, the back of me. There was always some evidence of the Aethyr around, but possibly because of the bunker's isolation from the rest of the city, there wasn't much energy in my immediate vicinity.

The only outlier that caught my eye was a small, almost unnoticeable wave of Red Wind that seemed to be emanating from the bathroom, drowned out by the loud sound of water impacting concrete.

I looked away, feeling heat rise in my neck. 'Focus dumbass.'

The Winds of Magic wasn't something I could just fuck around with willy-nilly. One mistake could literally blow me and the bunker up, and it was especially important to take it seriously since this was my first attempt at harnessing the magic. That thought made me realize that practicing with said magic inside of an enclosed and very important space like this probably wasn't the greatest of ideas.

'Fuck it. I need privacy and security, and this is all I have. Forgive me if I kill us both, Cass. In the odds that we get a second chance in some freaky anime fantasy world, I promise I'll find you.'

Emptying the external thoughts from my mind, I focused my attention on the thin Winds around me and inhaled.

Then I exhaled.

Tingles began to spread along my skin, sprouting tiny goosebumps that tickled, but I was no longer focusing on extraneous stimuli. Meditation was something that I'd done a fair bit of back when I was an angry teenager, so the breathing techniques came back to me instinctively as I settled down into the sensation of the Aethyr. Channeling the Winds was something that was taught differently by each college of magic, but the overall method was widely the same outside of those who practiced Qhaysh.

Of course, as per Omni-Disciplinary Mage, the potential for High Magic was there, inside of me, but I knew better than to even attempt that sort of spellwork before first becoming familiarized with the eight Winds.

So, instead of dwelling on future possibilities, I went through my breathing techniques again and channeled the tenets of Hysh - White Wind of Magic - through my mind. Light was purifying and illuminating, hopeful and safe… everything that Earth Bet wasn't. I didn't see myself as some paragon of virtue or selflessness. Hell, I considered myself a greedy asshole that valued his own personal freedom way too much. I was selfish, manipulative to a fault, and a sexual deviant to boot.

'But even still,' I thought, feeling Hysh brush over my shoulders like a protective shroud, 'I would do anything to keep those I care about safe.'

I really would. I was greedy and selfish and rebellious and quite possibly a mortal danger to society itself, but a lot of the hurt I put out was to keep others protected. Mostly. And maybe that was enough.

Actually, nah - fuck it. That had to be enough.

The language of the High Elves came to me then, as if pulled from the deepest, most intimate part of my soul. Eltharin. My voice, although low and quiet, seemed to fill the entire bunker in that moment as Hysh practically preened before my call like a noblewoman offering her hand to dance. The spell that I wanted to test, Dazzling Brightness, was simple enough in effect. A burst of light to temporarily blind foes - effective, efficient, and to the point.

When I finished the incantation and threw my hand forward, feeling the White Wind snake down my arm and surround my skin in a shining raiment of radiant white light, I did something rather… stupid in that moment.

I didn't close my eyes, believing in the sunglasses that I'd taken to wearing religiously.

The burst of bright, all-encompassing white light that exploded from the tips of my extended fingers like a magical flashbang easily pierced through the lenses of Cassie's hand-me-downs. I let out a startled and pained yelp, squeezing my stinging eyes shut and throwing the sunglasses to the floor. They clattered onto a half-empty plate of cold pizza bagels.

"Damn it!"

I groaned, the energy boost from my shiny new amulet immediately fading away as a pounding headache began to knock against my frontal lobe. Collapsing onto my back, I just lied there for a couple minutes, rubbing my eyes and trying to blink away the black dots in my vision.

At least… it worked? Outside of me getting hit with friendly fire, the channeling and incantation went well. I hadn't expected Eltharin to come out of my mouth so seamlessly, but it seemed the perk gave me a bit more than just a connection to the eight Winds of Magic. In spite of the ache in my eyes, I found myself actually excited to try out more spells. I had to take things easily, of course; rushing my understanding was much more foolish than flashbanging myself, and I didn't want to try anything that was too complicated before figuring out which Wind I wanted to focus the crux of my learning on for now.

It was probably around 2 AM, but I did not want to sleep. What sort of mage would I be if I rejected magic for cuddles?!

"Uhhh… everything alright? Why're you squinting like that?"

I turned my head, still blinking rapidly to recover my vision. A hazy form that could only be Cassie was making her way out of the bathroom, drying her dripping wet hair with a fuzzy white towel. She was wearing an over-sized Linkin' Park t-shirt that stopped at around knee-level, and the sight gave me pause.

"Huh, didn't know they existed here." I muttered to myself, giving her a half blind once-over. "Hold on, you actually showered?"

Cassie pouted, tossing the damp towel at me. It only made it halfway across the floor before hitting the ground - a testament to the spicy hacker's overwhelming physical prowess. "Duh. Any cool and mature woman has to clean up after pooping, obviously. Now what happened to your eye?" She half-limped closer, presumably to get all grabby with my face and check my retinas for spontaneous detachment or something.

I waved my hand dismissively, giving her a broad grin.. "Don't worry 'bout that right now," I said, gently yet firmly guiding her back down to the pallet of quilts. "The question I wanna know is this; Do you wanna get your ankle healed?" I waggled my fingers and my eyebrows in synch.

She grimaced at my expression, leaning away, before the meaning of my words seemed to kick in. Her exaggerated frown immediately gave way to shock. "Jay, no way your bullshit powers gave you-"

"Yessirrr," I cackled evilly, rubbing my hands together. "I'm gonna heal the fuck outta you. Panacea who? Avalon's all we need, baby."

"Please don't say it like that you dirty cheater. And stop laughing!" Cass blanched, wiggling her butt against the quilt as she tried to inch away from me. I caught her by the calf.

"Let me touch your fucked up ankle, weirdo."

"No!"

A tug in my soul grabbed my attention for a moment, and I smirked at the amazing timing. Perhaps it was a waste of a tiny bit of charge, but I was in a funny mood. Things were looking up, I had actual magic spells, and a beautiful girl actively wanted to stay with me through it all. Say what you want about depression, but all of these things combined would temporarily cure it for just about anyone.

Spoiler: Character Song (Mermaid Melody Pichi Pichi Pitch - 50 CP)

You get your own special song! For 50 PPP, you just get an instrumental tune. In either case, you can make the song play around you whenever you wish; you can choose whether or not other people can hear it. This purchase may mix with other perks and the like; for instance, you could use your theme as a song for Jumper Pearl Voice, and your own song will be included in an AMV featuring clips of you for the Multimedia Set.

Yoink.

Music began to play around the two of us, the volume tuned just the right amount to be striking without becoming overpowering. Cassie froze, her body becoming stock still as she stared, wide-eyed and suspicious, right at me. "Why is there boss music playing?"

"… Are you ready for your doctor's appointment, Ms. Cassie?" I ignored her question, my smirk turning positively wolfish.

"I hate hospitals," she replied instinctively, still dazed and confused by the sudden catchy background music.

"I know. Just be still." I closed my eyes and began channeling the White Wind.

"Wait, what are you muttering? Is that Russian?… Why am I glowing? Jay, I don't kno-… oooh. Ohhh~…"

I swallowed, watching Cass collapse back and let out a high, satisfied moan as warm white light bathed her entire body in its glow.

'Yeah… I fucking love being a mage.'

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One

Gauldur Amulet (The Elder Scrolls - 200 CP): A powerful amulet crafted by Archmage Gauldur and stolen by his three sons, the Gauldur amulet is a useful asset to anyone. It greatly enhances the health, magicka, and stamina of the wearer.

Spoiler: Roll Two

Character Song (Mermaid Melody Pichi Pichi Pitch - 50 CP): You get your own special song! For 50 PPP, you just get an instrumental tune. In either case, you can make the song play around you whenever you wish; you can choose whether or not other people can hear it. This purchase may mix with other perks and the like; for instance, you could use your theme as a song for Jumper Pearl Voice, and your own song will be included in an AMV featuring clips of you for the Multimedia Set.

850 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

We can get up to some fun things now that our boy has actual spells to play around with! Weapon Magic is great and will definitely be one of his most consistent sources of DPS, but it's very straightforward with what it does and it was his only source of magic attacks. Actually connecting to and learning more about the Aethyr is going to open up a lot more options.

Chapter 13

Saturday afternoon saw me making my way down the clean, smooth wooden pathway that made up the majority of the Boardwalk. Despite the relative earlyness of the day and the dreary, dark gray clouds that seemed to threaten the city with the possibility of rain, the area was extremely active with citizens streaming to and fro, enjoying both the safety of the Boardwalk and the assortment of stores, booths, and street entertainers. The view of the ocean wasn't horrible, either, and the Boardwalk had multiple staircases that led down to the relatively clean sands of the beach.

Over-all, I had to admit; the area was pretty fucking nice. I could see why it was considered one of the biggest tourist destinations in Brockton Bay, alongside the PRT ENE Headquarters. I probably could have lingered around and taken in the sights a bit more, really do the whole 'tourist' thing, but the looks and stares from the people around me were a bit… distracting. Sure, I came dressed in my usual Cape outfit - a plastic white half-mask, cargo pants, boots, and a black leather jacket. For all intents and purposes, I looked like an unknown newbie cape and normal people were not very comfortable around those.

"You sure she's supposed to be here?" I muttered quietly, shoving my hands in my pockets and resuming my walk.

There was a low beep in my wireless earbuds - probably her unmuting herself - before Cassie's low, gruff voice snaked through my skull. "The target will be there, Snake. Remember; this is a quiet mission. In and out. Non Lethal takedowns onl-"

I groaned, a dry, crooked grin forming on my face. "Chill with the roleplay for a sec you fuckin' nerd. I'm the furthest thing from Solid Snake." In spite of my words, amusement fought with the deadpan snark in my voice. Over the past few days, Cassie had slowly started to show more and more of her real personality, and it was almost infuriating how much I was beginning to adore what I saw. I apparently had a thing for nerdy geeks with attachment issues… go figure.

She huffed audibly over the mic, and I could practically imagine her leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "Spoilsport! According to their post on PHO, Forema Boutique is hosting Parian's show. It's apparently a pretty big event - they're gonna show off the store's upcoming Spring dress lineup." Her voice became duller and less-enthused. "Yaaay, fashionnn."

I snorted. "Forema Boutique, got it. There's not too many stores on the Boardwalk." I looked around as I walked, and sure enough, while there were multiple booths where people were selling candies or baked treats or lemonade, the stores seemed to be placed further along the middle-end of the strip - a row of expensive looking buildings that almost definitely sold goods at an inflated and stupid price.

"And you don't seem too excited about the 'Spring dress lineup'. I'm guessing I should perish the thought of gettin' you some Louis Vuitton as a late Christmas present, huh?" I looked up, catching the eye of a burly enforcer who was eyeing me suspiciously and muttering into a walkie-talkie.

I winked, and he turned away.

"No! I-I mean, yes? Maybe? You're getting me a present?" The wide smile in her voice was unmistakable, even through the earbuds.

Well, it had been a joke, but seeing how excited she got at the prospect was more than enough to change my mind on the spot. "Maybe," I murmured lightly, brushing past a gaping blonde kid with a bowl haircut. He turned to watch me as I moved past him, but my eyes were only for the group of stores that I was quickly getting closer to.

"Huh?! What do you mean maybe?"

"Maybe I'll get you something nice… it just depends on how bad you want it, Cass."

"J-Jay!"

And there it was - that ever present sexual tension, a pressure that I could feel even through the digital connection. Things hadn't cooled off after the whole 'good girl' incident earlier in the week. Oh no - rather, if anything, it got even worse. Say what you wanted about teenagers, but we were nothing if not lustful. Emotionally charged, hormonal, spontaneous - that heat in the pit of my stomach hadn't dimmed in the slightest since that night, and to make matters worse and better, Cassie had apparently come to the conclusion that she wanted me to break first. Her moves were rarely overt or blunt, but for my quickly dying willpower, she was more than effective.

'Unconsciously' wiggling her ass against me as we slept or cuddled - because we platonically cuddled now, apparently.

Suddenly becoming a klutz and dropping things, only to bend over in my direction when she went to pick it up.

Even staring up into my eyes whenever we both went to brush our teeth in the morning, sticking her tongue out to get a more thorough brushing.

I was basically fighting a losing war against my original ironclad conviction to not let myself become too attached and affectionate with the lovable nerd. It was only a matter of time before I was self-diagnosed as a dirty hypocrite and made a Cassie-shaped indent in that lump ass mattress of ours. There was nothing 'normal' about our arrangement, anyone could see that - and I was an idiot for trying to pretend otherwise. The only thing holding me back, other than the lingering fear of not being able to bring her with me, was my competitive spirit.

If anyone was gonna break first, it damn well had to be her. I still had my pride as a composed and mature former-adult!

"…" I could hear her breathing still, heavy and damp. The wet, moist sound of her licking her dry lips interrupted the silence. "… I want it, Jay. R-really, really bad… please?" The words quiet, almost too quiet for me to hear in the loud humdrum of the Boardwalk. There was nothing but naked honesty in her voice; no forced low pitch or prickly bravado… just a breathy, needy whisper that almost had me choking on saliva.

There was a second of silence as I tried to reboot my brain. At this point I was basically in front of Forema Boutique, and I doubted walking inside of the store with a massive erection was the best first impression.

"Cass?"

Silence.

"Yo, Cass - can you hear me?" Still, no voice answered.

I let out a long drawn-out sigh. I wasn't worried about the sudden silence as far as her being in danger went - the bunker was secure, and I would've heard something before her mic went silent if someone had broken in. No, she was just embarrassed by being so upfront with her desire towards me. I felt a bit bad, but at the same time I felt proud… in a weird, protective way. She talked a big game with me, but I knew, just based off of context clues, that Cass was someone with pretty horrible anxiety. Her not leaving the bunker at all over the past few days was evidence enough - and I tried multiple times to get her out into the sunlight.

Speaking to me at that bus stop Downtown had probably used up all of her social bravado for the week.

'Well, not much I can do about it now.' I shrugged, pushing it to the back of my head and heading inside the Boutique. From the outside I'd already seen the decent-sized crowd of people, mostly women, seated in the middle of the store, so I could only guess that I was coming in towards the tail-end of the show.

"Good afternoon and welcome to- Oh!" A gorgeous, brown-haired woman in an expensive-looking black dress stared at me, her unnaturally full lips pursing into a nervous, thin line. "W-welcome to Forema Boutique. May I help you, sir?"

I tilted my head, glancing past the clerk and taking in the 'show'. On a long, boosted marble platform that looked like a runway, a voluptuous white mannequin strutted forward with her - their - its hands on its hips. It was wearing another expensive dress, but I wasn't really into women's fashion. I was more interested in the short, unsettling figure sitting on a stool at the far back of the runway, her gloved hands placed primly on her lap. She was wearing a creepy porcelain mask, a frilly white frock, and had a small, patchwork teddy bear perched on her shoulder. A long, curly blonde wig completed the whole 'living doll' routine.

"Um, sir-"

"The entry fee is twenty bucks, right?" I cut the lady off, pulling the bill out of my pocket and handing it over to her. She took it slowly, still watching me with a weary look in her eye.

"You're here for the fashion show." Her voice was dull and disbelieving.

"I'm a big fan of fashion," I smirked, tapping the sleeve of my leather jacket. "This is authentic Gucci - some high class shit. I'm just tryna broaden my horizons with…" I glanced past her again and raised an eyebrow, "Silk negligee."

"… Right. Well, you've paid the fee and my manager didn't give me any instructions on what to do if a cape walks in, so you're free to… enter?" The woman looked so confused and off-centered that I almost felt bad. Almost. It was more amusing than it was sad, though, so I just smiled politely and walked past her.

The sound of cameras flashing and rich people murmuring to each other was the only real noise in the store. Seeing as everyone's attention was on the telekinetically-controlled mannequin strutting its stuff on the runway, I was able to slip into the shadows towards the side of the seated crowd and lean against the wall as I waited for the show to finish up. Parian seemed almost… bored, but I couldn't tell much from the creepy ass mask that she wore. I'd almost certainly annoy her if I interrupted during the show, so I turned my attention inwards for the time being.

The Grimoire was waking up, after all. I hadn't gotten much of anything for a while now, possibly because of my dog headed focus on practicing what I already had, so it was a bit exciting to feel my soul shifting once again. I'd almost forgotten how otherworldly the sensation was.

This one was a hefty one, too - I could feel it.

Spoiler: Sanctum (World of Darkness - 400 CP)

Not as useful to Sorcerers as true mages, but in this apartment sized space, your magical abilities, from this world or others, will never go awry, instead merely failing to produce any effect at all when misused. This Sanctum can take any form, from an alchemist laboratory, to a dojo, to a temple, to a small house. It goes wherever you desire it to go, so there are no 'moving' concerns. Merely will it to be done, and done it will be. The Sanctum comes furnished with the common commodities associated with whatever form you choose.

'Fuck.' My eyes widened beneath my mask, and I instinctively looked up as if to make sure that no one could see what was just revealed to me in my soul. Obviously they couldn't - snorting, I closed my eyes and thought about the Grimoire's offering.

The charge it required was immense. Already, I could feel that half of what I've built up would be flushed away in an instant if I accepted the Sanctum, but wasn't it worth all of that and more? A mobile, magical, apartment-sized space where all of my magical abilities couldn't harm me, and I could redecorate it all with my mind? I had no idea how the logistics or physics of it all worked, but magic shat on physics nine times outta ten anyway. I could make our little bunker an actual home underground and not some drafty Endbringer shelter.

And, once again, it was practically made for a training mage. I had nothing to fear from pushing the boundaries when it came to the Winds of Magic. I needed this.

Yoink.

The abrupt sound of quiet, polite clapping brought me out of the Grimoire. I opened my eyes and watched from the sidelines as Parian gingerly stood from her stool and walked a few feet to stand between six different mannequins, all wearing vastly different dresses. As one, they all performed a textbook-perfect curtsy, and the applause grew moderately louder in volume.

"Thank you, and I hope that you all enjoy Forema Boutique's upcoming spring sale! Remember to use code 'PARIAN' for a five percent discount this weekend only." The small woman had a noticeable accent that I couldn't quite place. I knew that Parian was Middle-Eastern, I had never bothered to research the specifics. Regardless, her voice was quite soothing.

I was waiting by the small staircase at the back of the runway when she finally broke away from the limelight. The mannequins had already become stiff and unmoving behind her, and the remnants of the audience that hadn't already left were pondering over the dresses like they were analyzing a da Vinci piece.

She froze mid-step and watched me, warily. Now that we were face to face, I could see that she had large, dark eyes behind the holes in her mask. "I did not know that I was popular enough to be handing out autographs." Her voice was no less pleasant than before when she spoke, though there was a warning behind her cool tone.

A shiver went through my body as Force of Spirit activated. Immediately, I was more perceptive to the tiny details that hinted at the Rogue's feelings. Her shoulders were slightly bunched up - tense, and her eyes just flickered to my right, towards the entrance and exit of the boutique. She was feeling cornered, coming right off of a performance and being confronted at the exit of the walkway. Social clumsiness on my part.

I took a step back and opened up my stance, allowing her to walk past me and towards the exit if she wanted to flee. She didn't take the opportunity though, and the almost imperceptible relaxing of her shoulders made me relax.

"The whole 'strutting mannequin' thing was pretty badass. I came to talk business, but I wouldn't say no to an autograph as well," I smirked, keeping my voice light and relaxed. I knew that the sound of my voice was intimidating to some people, and Parian, from what I remembered reading, was someone who didn't see herself as strong. She was clearly out of her comfort zone with me approaching her in 'costume' right now, and I had to take it slow. Easy.

"I'll… keep that in mind," she said awkwardly, "The autograph thing, that is. What business do you have with me?"

I glanced back at the somewhat loud comments being made by the crowd of buzzing fashion critics and frowned. "Maybe we can take this outside? It's feeling a lil' bit… snooty in here."

Parian shifted, and I looked back to lock eyes with her. That damned doll mask hid her expression completely, and other than the minute body language that my power picked up occasionally I was practically working blind. "How did you find out about me?" she asked, ignoring my question. It was a fair ask, though.

"PHO," I replied, pulling my phone out of my pocket and quickly flipping to the browser. I didn't have an account yet, but the page was already on Parian's profile. Her username was simply 'Parian', and she even had the Verified Cape and Verified Rogue badges. I showed her the screen. "I was looking for someone who could help me with my lil' fashion problem, and I saw your post about the show this afternoon. Figured I'd stop by, meet you in person."

Parian took a couple steps closer to lean in and scan the screen for a moment before nodding. "Okay, that makes sense." She hesitated, before continuing, "Thank you for thinking of me for your… 'fashion problem'. I'm still new to the fashion world, and it's been a bit of a rough start."

I waved my hand and pocketed my phone again. "I feel you." A puckish grin formed on my lips, and I leaned in a little bit. "Between me and you, this is like the tenth leather jacket I've had to buy. Fighting crime's not as easy as I thought it would be." That was a bit of a lie - I'd only gotten shot once in the leg a day ago, and Healing of Hysh was enough to take care of the bullet hole once I dug the round out.

Still, it seemed to ease up the tension a bit as Parian let out a slight giggle, covering the mouth of her mask with her hand. "I can imagine," she said wistfully, looking me up and down. "I'm not sure if I'm the best girl for the job, but I'll hear you out at least. Let me grab my things from the back first, um…"

"Avalon."

" Avalon. Hm… nice name."

A few minutes later saw Parian and I leaning against the railing overlooking the Bay. A large, almost cartoonish spool of thread rested on the ground at the Rogue's feet, and she had a small notebook and lead pencil in her hand. Annoyingly enough we were both getting stares - which increased in volume due to Parian's well-kept, eye-catching appearance - but I had no issue ignoring the peanut gallery. They didn't seem to bother my companion, either.

"So," Parian started, peering up at me with a tilted head, "I assume you want a hero outfit designed and made. I don't know how good I'd be at more masculine aesthetics, and I can't work with heavier material, so if you're wanting a suit of armor or something…"

I shook my head. "Nah, the whole 'Avalon' thing is because of my powers - not because I see myself as a knight or anything like that. Lighter materials work fine."

The doll-like cape nodded her head and scribbled something into the notepad. "And what, exactly, are your powers?" she asked, looking at me again. There was unhidden curiosity in her voice, and I took it as a sign that she was getting a bit more comfortable. "If that isn't too personal a question. It would just help me decide which materials are best for different parts of the costume." Or maybe not…

I let out a chuckle of amusement. "Don't worry, I'm not that bitchy. I'm a Trump with a few different minor abilities, but my main one is creating energy constructs." With a slight gesture of my finger, which was definitely necessary and not just to look cool, I conjured one of my trusty golden spears overhead. Seeing as my Armament was one with my soul, I no longer had to have the weapon in hand in order for my Weapon Magic to constitute me as 'wielding' a spear.

Almost as soon as it appeared, the golden spear shot into the sky and promptly faded into motes of glimmering light.

"That is… very cool," Parian breathed, her eyes twinkling a little behind her mask as she craned her neck upwards. Returning her attention to me, the petite woman cleared her throat when she noticed me watching her with a smile. "Ahem, sorry. Dazzling golden energy, mythical connotations to the name, aesthetically pleasing jawline…" The last part was muttered very quietly, so I figured she did not want me to hear. I resisted my natural urge to tease.

"Hm… yeah, I think I would like to take on this commission, Avalon. I can imagine a half mask, rather than a full one, since you have a nice smile. A mottled gold trimming along a more royal color, like purple or black, would do well I think. Did you have a specific theme in mind?" She was actively writing again as she spoke to me, and before my very eyes another pencil slid from the folds of her dress and began writing alongside the one in her hand. I was rather impressed at the multitasking.

I nodded my head, realized that she was still looking down, and spoke instead. "Yeah. You play any video games?"

Parian paused mid-scribble and glanced up at me with an odd look in her eye. "Er, I play Sudoku…?" she said hesitantly.

I blinked. "That's not a video game, but I can appreciate an intelligent woman. There was this RPG - eh, role-playing game - I used to play a few years back, and one of the heroes in it was sort of an inspiration to me. His name was Gortash, and he was this super badass wizard-" Realizing that I was starting to ramble a bit, I paused to make sure she was still paying attention.

She was, quite intently judging by how she'd completely stopped writing, and at my pause she let out a quiet chuckle. "I'm listening, Avalon. Go on." Her voice was amused and interested all at once, and I felt a small wave of embarrassment hit me.

So much for the cool and composed airs.

Still, it wasn't often that I allowed myself to freely nerd out about my former video game interests, so I pushed away the immature embarrassment that stemmed from a childhood of teasing and really let my ideas run rampant for Parian to annotate. She was an attentive and vigilant listener, asking me questions about both the video game - which was a bastardized version of Baldur's Gate 3 - and the outfit that I was trying to describe, and by the end of it all we were basically just having a conversation about video games in general. She had sketched out a rough draft of Gortash's Cloth of Authority in her little notebook, and the accuracy was almost uncanny.

It was obvious that she took her work seriously, even though I knew that her inspiration in almost everything right now was dwindling.

"-and that's why I think RPGs are the best genre of video games. When you immerse yourself into your monitor or computer screen, you wanna be sent into a new world, y'know? You don't wanna just be Parian anymore - you wanna be Grognak the Barbarian, or Lara fuckin' Croft with the bow and arrow. That's what RPGs are. They're made to reinvent you, at least for the few hours you play."

Parian quietly sipped the straw of the lemonade I'd bought her in between our discussion, having completely ignored her refusals to let me pay the overly-inflated prices the Boardwalk was well known for. She only lifted her mask ever so slightly to fit the straw through the gap, but I didn't blame her - not everyone wanted their lower faces seen by the public. I just didn't give a fuck enough.

When she finished swallowing, the Rogue lightly shook her head, sending blonde tresses flying. "I don't know if I can afford to buy a 'gaming PC' with all of the work I have coming up, but you make these RPGs feel worth it. Real. I've never even heard anything like some of these plotlines you mention."

I snorted, tossing my empty cup into the trash bin a few feet away. "You don't even know the half of it. You ever heard of Pokem-"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A sudden loud beeping noise rang out from Parian's frock. The woman jumped, scared, before realizing where it was coming from and quickly pulling a smartphone out of one of the many pockets in her dress. As she annoyedly pressed a few buttons, I watched as her eyes widened in shock behind her mask. A low, frustrated whine escaped her chest. "Oh no… I'm sorry Avalon, I have to go. I forgot I had friggin' classes at 2 PM, ugh."

A moment later she gasped. "Um, sorry, that's probably not professional. I have… official duties. Important ones. But I enjoyed our conversation and hate to leave it so suddenly." The petite woman even bowed her head in apology.

I raised my eyebrows, bemused. "It's cool, yo - education is important for some people. We can continue it another time, yeah?" Taking my own phone out of my pocket, I made a clear and obvious move to touch the little 'Contact' icon in the bottom right and flick it in Parian's direction.

She straightened at the small, quirky little 'ping' that rang from her own device and stared down at the number that appeared. "Oh, right - thank you." she said clumsily.

"For giving you my number?" I asked with a grin.

"Y-yeah? And for wanting to talk to me again. I really did enjoy it." Parian was stumbling over her words a bit, obviously flustered, but I let it slide since she was obviously in a rush and probably a bit overstimulated. I chuckled and shooed the woman away.

"Hurry back then. Sorry for keeping you so long."

"It's okay. I'll text you updates on your costume!"

I just knew she was smiling beneath the mask. Waving goodbye before picking up the spool of thread beside her, Parian briskly jogged away towards the exit of the Boardwalk. I watched her go for a few moments, just to make sure she was good, before sighing and turning back to the bay. 'Another task marked off the list, and another friend made. She was cool. I wonder if she knows about the whole 'skin-manipulation' thing… ' It had always been unclear if Parian was aware of the secret, more powerful side of her ability.

Shrugging, I inhaled the salty scent of the ocean and peered inwards to check on the Grimoire. It was lurking around a certain mote of light, and a brief scan showed that it was another ability based around Insanity and the Skaven - two things that I had absolutely no intentions of bothering with. I just wasn't that type of mage.

Letting it release back into the ocean of magic, I simply went back to watching the calm waves rush across the water. I would've been completely content to just relax for another hour or so, enjoying the peace, but a quiet 'ping' from my phone grabbed my attention.

"Huh, didn't really take Parian as the clingy typ- Holy fuck."

I almost dropped my new smartphone in the bay. Blood rushed through my veins, heading all the way downtown until it pooled inside of my quickly rising dick. I cursed the fact that I did not know how to take screenshots on this weird, unfamiliar device - but I had a perfect memory, so it wasn't like it even mattered.

Spoiler: Text Message Received

Cassie (Sexiest Hacker Girl)

2:04 PM

I'm still needy… when do I get my present? ;-;

Attached Image

… Maybe it was time to head back to the bunker.

I didn't wanna get into the habit of reneging on my promises, after all. Right?

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Accepted Roll

Sanctum (World of Darkness: Sorcery - 400 CP): Not as useful to Sorcerers as true mages, but in this apartment sized space, your magical abilities, from this world or others, will never go awry, instead merely failing to produce any effect at all when misused. This Sanctum can take any form, from an alchemist laboratory, to a dojo, to a temple, to a small house. It goes wherever you desire it to go, so there are no 'moving' concerns. Merely will it to be done, and done it will be. The Sanctum comes furnished with the common commodities associated with whatever form you choose.

650 CP Remaining.

Chapter 14

(( I just realized that I forgot to put in the little excerpt that was supposed to be the intro to the chapter. It bridges over the gap between Chapter 10 and 11. Holy shit guys. It's not much so take this little excerpt. ))

Before The Fashion Show

The next couple of days seemed to pass by in a comfortable blur of reconnaissance and ass-kickery.

I kept up my nightly patrols, busting Merchant crack houses and then calling up the BBPD to clean the drugs out after I raided the buildings for cash. I stopped bothering with genial conversation after the third time the dispatcher tried to pass me over to the Parahuman Response hotline, instead rattling off the address and situation before hanging up and leaving. Apparently I lucked out with the female officer on my first night as Avalon, because the other officers were pretty much pussies. Not that I could blame 'em - I'd probably be afraid of me too.

I still wasn't too familiarized with the online cape scene despite Cassie overhauling my new smartphone, but word was getting out about the new vigilante making the Docks his stomping grounds. At the very least, druggies were screaming about 'Avalon showin' up' whenever I busted their doors in. Security in their little hideyholes was getting tougher too - more guns, less sloppiness. Common sense hinted that I'd be throwing down with their big boys soon.

Honestly, a big part of why my self-imposed D.A.R.E campaign against the Merchants was going this smooth was all thanks to the incredible talent of my partner-in-crime, Cassie - super cool hacker codename pending. It was crazy what information a software Tinker could find out with the looted phones of dozens of gang members, and she was able to get me times and addresses on the bigger drug deals and cooking spots.

In reality, I really wanted to start bringing the hurt Downtown - shove a fireball up some nazi ass, but doing it this early would be jumping the gun and just getting plain arrogant. Patience was a virtue, and I was still… 'sharpening my claws', so to speak. The Merchants were cockroaches, and I was honestly a bit confused on why they hadn't been hunted down to the last man already. The gang was small, fairly weak when it came to firepower, and it wasn't like taking them out would introduce a vacuum that could spark a city-wide gang war. Sure, they didn't have a Kill Order or anything so it wasn't like I could just slaughter them all, but finding Skidmark and his 'lieutenants' and delivering them straight to the slammer couldn't have been too hard.

When I asked Cass about this, her response was fairly deadpan. "Most independent heroes are not ballsy enough to launch a one-man aggravated attack against an entire gang a day after becoming a cape, Jay. You're crazy."

Which was fair… but also pretty disappointing. What else would they be doing with their lives? Actually going out with friends and being pleasant and normal human beings? Psh.

I didn't like doing things half-assed, and since my gut was telling me that my usual Merchant hunting hobby would be getting a bit more complicated soon, I decided that it was probably about time I got an actual costume. Ideas had been floating in my head for a while now, mainly because I had a veritable treasure trove of professionally-designed outfits in my memory bank from the different games and anime I inhaled in my past life. The only issue was properly getting it put together on paper, and finding someone who could make it all happen without completely breaking my bank. I was sitting on about ten thousand dollars in total because stealing from criminal drug dealers really did pay off, and the money was starting to burn a hole in my pocket.

Fortunately, I knew just the woman who could help. Whether or not she actually would was up in the air, but I found that getting straight to the point and staying unflappable helped a lot when it came to dealing with capes. Tattletale and Cassie in particular, maybe, but they still counted!

I was going to seek out Parian, drop a few grand in her lap, and hope for the best. And then, I would shake the hornet's nest a little with the Merchants and see if I could bait Skidmark and friends out of hiding.

After all, If I wanted Brockton Bay to take me seriously as an independent hero, it was imperative to make my own entry into the cape scene. Doing so by imprisoning the meth head drug fiend who attributed to teen dope addiction had to be good for PR, and I'd blow up anyone who said it wouldn't.

Chapter 15

I'm not ashamed to announce that the haze of hot, almost dizzying arousal was what spurred on my mad dash through the Docks. One moment I was sprinting down the sidewalk and slipping into an alleyway, and the next the citizens of Brockton Bay bore witness to a large, feathery black serpent soaring high into the sky. Pictures were taken, gasps were gasped, and fingers were pointed in awe at the majesty of the beautiful, mythical creature. I didn't mind the fanfare - other than the origins of my abilities, I had no interest in hiding everything I could do. Constantly hiding my new abilities as the wielder of the Celestial Grimoire would quickly become obnoxious as fuck, firstly, and secondly… I just wanted to get back to the bunker.

My body demanded it.

Flying from the Boardwalk to the fringes of the Train Yard took only a fraction of the time it would have taken me on foot. A few minutes of soaring through the sky was all it took to arrive at my destination, and I burst through one of the abandoned warehouses near the bunker in order to shift back and make sure that no one had been following behind me in my trek through the clouds. Full bestial shifting like what I could do was extremely rare in Brockton Bay - the only one I could think of off the top of my head was Hookwolf, and even he was less 'majestic, flesh and blood creature' and more 'scary amalgamation of steel blades'.

Fortunately, as I hopped out the same low window I crashed in through and landed lightly on the other side, I could see that the sky seemed clear of flying capes.

From there, it only took me a couple more minutes to make my way back to the bunker.

Another amazing thing about having a software tinker as a roommate? She filled my phone with enough high-quality programs to make even the most avid of mobile users green with envy. One such program, simply named 'Bunker Breaker', was the special software she used to keep our hideout secure. I wasn't privy to the coding specifics but it was pretty self-explanatory, like scanning a QR code or using Apple Pay. I simply had to open the program, swipe the QR-like icon against the door's little screen, and voila - open sesame.

I made no noise as I entered our little hideout. I didn't call out to Cassie, or slam the door shut to announce my arrival - there was a certain static-like tenseness in the air, in my chest, and being loud would only work to dispel it. Instead, I closed the large door as calmly as I could, trying my best to remain cool and composed despite my heart threatening to beat out of my chest. I wasn't a nervous guy at all, but this wasn't the beating heart of a nervous man - it was excitement, pure and simple. My fingers twitched, my blood sang, and I could practically feel Aqshy flowing like liquid fire throughout the bunker. I clearly wasn't the only one excited.

The actual hideout was dim when I made my way down the ladder. It was awkward, descending downwards with a raging hard on, but I'd been through more awkward situations before and I made it work.

Cassie was waiting for me in her normal spot at her computer desk, her knees pulled up to her chest. I simply took a moment to look at her, breathe in the tantalizing sight before me.

Nervousness and excitement was clear in the nervous sheen of sweat on her body in spite of the cool temperature, along with the nervous tremble of her hand as she shyly covered her palm-sized breasts. She was just as shirtless as she was in the photo, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her skin was pale and smooth, unmarred and free of any blemish or scar, and I could already imagine just how soft her body would be in my hands. Her sides had a small amount of chub, and her stomach was only slightly pudgy - not enough to ever be considered 'fat' or 'chubby', but enough to show that she wasn't the type to work out or be very physically active.

I couldn't see what sight lay between the smooth expanse of her legs because her other hand was shielding it from view. That wouldn't do at all. I knew how to deal with the timid and inexperienced girl - she needed a strong, guiding hand to take charge and show her how it was done, and I just so happened to possess quite a decent amount of experience in the matter.

She squeaked when I took a step forward, dropping my mask off of my face with a clatter. My eyes stared into hers with an intensity that I rarely felt.

"J-jay…" Cassie murmured breathlessly, wiggling her hips in her computer chair and blushing all the way down her neck. Her bottom lip was toyed with between her teeth as she looked away, and words just seemed to spill from her mouth. "I-I'm- I don't know how to do this the right way, I'm sorry. I-I've just been feeling so h-horny and I really want you to kiss me and spank me when I'm bad and then you were t-talking a lot to that Parian woman and-"

I cut her off. Or, rather, my hands cut her off when I dropped them lightly on her scrunched up knees. She jolted at the touch of my warm, calloused palms, a low groan bubbling out of her chest. "Shhh," I shook my head, slowly lowering myself to my knees in front of the quaking girl, catching her gaze with my own. "I promised you a present, beautiful… lemme give it to you."

Cassie's lips parted. With her face flushed red and her chest heaving with each nervous breath, she seemed almost overwhelmed with arousal. "B-beautiful? Please say it again…" she whispered softly.

I had to hold myself back from grinning.

"You," I began, gently yet firmly gripping her knees and spreading her tensed legs apart, "Are…" She allowed me to control her lower body, whining almost silently in the back of her throat as my large hands stroked the soft, sensitive skin along her thighs. "Absolutely beautiful, Cassie."

I leaned in and brushed my lips against her inner thigh.

"Eee!"

She jolted again, like my soft touch was a static shock through her body. Her right hand was still covering her pussy, but there was no hiding that universal scent of feminine arousal. With every uncontrollable tremor and wiggle of her hips, I could see the wet, sticky evidence of her horniness sliding and squishing against the visible folds of her fat, pliable asscheeks. Cassie was down bad .

And she knew I knew it, too. Her eyes stared down at me with both dizzying lust and embarrassed horror. "I'm sorry-"

"You're wet," I couldn't help it - I grinned in amusement. Before she could get even more embarrassed, however, I continued as if nothing happened. "And if you want your present, you'll let me see."

Something about the way I said it gave the shy hacker a bit of confidence. She swallowed and slowly, almost fearfully, rubbed her right hand in a small circle against her pussy. A wet, squishy noise filled the room. "O-oh!… Mmm, what-" she whimpered in pleasure, her hips twitching forward uncontrollably. Her eyes stared unerringly into mine. "What if I don't show you, Jason? What'll happen?"

My grin took a dark edge. "I can show you better than I can tell you."

Her head tilted, a snarky smile beginning to grow on her soft red lips. "Sure-"

I activated Sanctum. The mote of light in my soul, already aware of how I wanted my magical home to appear, wasted no time in doing what magic did best - completely and utterly ignoring all physics to give an otherworldly and distinctly impossible effect. The results spoke for themselves; no longer were we in a rundown, drafty underground bunker… at least, on the inside. With a startled yelp, Cassie fell back onto a large, soft bed covered in rose petals. Her rickety old computer chair was nowhere in sight, and music began playing softly in the background.

In her sudden shock, she left her body completely uncovered. Small, perky titties capped off with delicious looking pink nipples, and she apparently decided to shave. Her bare pussy, wet and still dripping with arousal, was on full display. I honestly didn't think it was possible for me to get any harder than I was at that moment. She wasn't the most voluptuous woman I'd ever been with, but there was something so innocent, pure, and mind blowingly sexy about the way she stared up at me, mouth parted and eyes wide.

I couldn't hold myself back any longer.

"Jay, w-where did-… oh. My god."

A burst of pride shot through me at Cass's awed gasp as I slowly pulled the form-fitting t shirt up and over my head. I tossed it carelessly to the side, making sure to keep eye contact with her even as I firmly grasped the waistband of my pants. "Come closer," I tilted my head, a lazy smirk forming on my lips as I unashamedly looked the naked girl up and down.

She shivered at my tone.

"Yes sir," she murmured, the sudden shift in environment bringing her nervousness right back to the forefront. Cassie crawled forward slowly, her wide eyes never pulling away from my heated gaze. She moved closer and closer on her hands and knees until she was at the end of the bed, looking up at me with her dark, beautiful eyes.

I reached forward and gripped her jaw lightly with my hand.

"Mmm, Jason…" Cassie whimpered, pressing her thighs tightly together. Every sound she made, every movement, fanned the flames of lust inside of me. I studied her face silently, tilting her head ever so slightly to the left and to the right as I did so. I didn't necessarily need to, of course - I had perfect memory, and I'd long since burned her face into my brain, but I liked handling her like this.

Judging by the panting, she enjoyed it too.

"Open your mouth." I whispered.

She didn't hesitate. Still panting and whimpering, Cass wiggled her ass and parted her lips obediently. I traced her bottom lip gently, almost caressing it, and my heart pounded when she immediately sucked it into her warm, wet mouth. Her eyes were almost pleading as she looked up at me, circling the tip of my thumb with her tongue and hollowing out her cheeks. "Mmmf~…"

A few moments later, I gripped her short black hair with my free hand and gave a gentle, yet firm tug. With a loud, wet 'pop', Cass pulled her head back. Her eyes seemed almost glazed over in pleasure. "Jaaay…" she whined, blushing.

"Hm?" Still gripping her hair, I gave her an amused smile.

Cheeks flushed and tits heaving, Cass blinked desperately up at me. "I wanna kiss you so badly, Jay. Pleaseee! My first kiss…" The last part was a shy and embarrassed whisper.

I knew it. "Stick out your tongue, pretty girl."

The sudden command mixed with the compliment threw her for a stuttering, happy loop. "W-wha- huh?"

I relaxed my grip on her hair a little bit as I leaned down, moving my face a scant few inches away from her own. Her eyes dilated at the close proximity, and I could see her gaze darting down to my smirking lips. "Stick. Out. Your. Tongue." I repeated slowly, word by word.

"U-um, okay… aaaah-MMMF!"

As soon as her tongue, small and cute, began to loll out from between her lips, I moved in with the speed of a serpent. My tongue wrapped around hers, the wet muscles sliding wetly against each other before I pushed forward and overtook her lips with my own. Cass seized up from the sensation, moaning hotly into my mouth as my tongue completely dominated hers. She stood no chance, not even bothering to put up a fight as I took control over the kiss.

There were no 'sweet pecks' or 'awkward bumps' - within moments her body fell backwards onto the bed, overtaken by all of the brand new sensations, and I followed her. My hands found her thin wrists and I wrenched them over her head, intertwining her fingers with mine as I ransacked her mouth with my tongue. I wanted - no, I need to claim every inch of this girl's body.

"MMMMF-"

The hard, swollen bulge of my cock ground against the drooling, swollen pink lips of Cassie's pussy as we made out in the bed, and sparks flew through my vision at the sudden burst of pleasure and frustration. She definitely felt it more than me, however - her hips spasmed at the contact, and she damn near bit tongue. Slowly, I broke our liplock, watching satisfactorily as a long line of drool connected our mouths to one another.

"Haa… haa… haa…" Cassie panted, her tongue hanging limp out the side of her mouth as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. She looked completely out of it, riding the high of whatever had been flashing through her mind and body while I fucked her mouth with my tongue.

It seemed like it was up to me to get her back on track.

ZIIIIIP.

"H-huh?" The sudden sound of my pants unzipping seemed to break the girl out of her dazedness. She blinked rapidly before looking back down to me. "Mm, Jay, that was-"

Cassie froze mid-sentence.

I bit back a groan as the cool air brushed over the hot, pulsating flesh of my hard cock. I gave it a long stroke and simply watched Cassie, enjoying the way that her tongue came back out to lick over her swollen lips. Nervousness warred with overwhelming desire on her face, alongside an undercurrent of very real fear. It was understandable, though - little Jay was thick, veiny, and quite long - penis enhancements were not something I'd ever need to use magic for, and I knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

"That's… that's your dick," Cassie breathed, still gaping at the pillar of man meat that was hovering between her legs. She swallowed and looked up at me, directly into my eyes. "W-will it fit? Please tell me it'll fit, Jay…" Her breath caught in her throat, and she began to wiggle her hips again. I groaned, deep in my throat, when the movement caused her soft, thick thigh to brush against the shaft.

"I want it…" Cassie's right hand slipped between her legs again, and she continued to stare in my eyes as her fingertips began to slowly, almost shamefully, rub against her pussy. "A-ahh, fuck… sir, pleaseee…"

"It'll fit," I said hoarsely, my own hand beginning to stroke my cock. "Especially if you get it all nice and wet for me, baby." Pre-cum made it easier - even without lube, I was aroused enough to fill my own fucking bottle. Cassie's eyes widened at the sight of me unabashedly jerking myself off over her body, and her fingers began rubbing faster.

" Jaaaason… " she whined pitifully, almost crying, as her hips grinded harshly against her sticky hand. "I promise I'll get my pussy nice and wet for you, master. I want your big, strong dick to break meee, pleaseee. Please, master!" One of her fingers dipped inside of her pussy as she was rubbing it, and Cassie cried out loudly. I doubted she was even aware of what she was saying at this point.

Master though, huh? Interesting - I mentally filed that away for later. Right now I was too busy trying not to bust in the middle of our mutual masturbation.

"Damn…" I gritted out, jerking my cock faster in time with the loud, squelching sounds of Cassie's fingers. I could see it in her pleasure-stricken face - she was gonna come much faster than me, and at that absolute peak was when I would attack, but for now all I needed was her matching my gaze and fucking herself beneath me. I didn't think that the night was gonna go like this… not at all, actually. I'd expected some kissing, us confessing to each other, maybe some grinding or sucking but… I wouldn't trade this outcome for anything.

"O-oh fuuuuck! I- I think… !" The sound of her fingers going in and out of her tight wet pussy increased, and I knew that she was close. It was only a matter of time, and I wanted to be the one to force it out of her. Immediately, I let go of my dick and moved her hand out of the way.

"H-hey-!"

I lowered my body and drove my hips forward, cutting off whatever she was about to say. All nine inches of hot, swollen dick meat slid into Cass's needy pussy, driving the wind out of the girl's lungs. I growled low in my throat, the almost vice-like grip of her soft, velvety walls almost forcing the orgasm out of me immediately. Only an iron will kept me from cumming, and I gritted my teeth and drove through the feeling in order to start pounding into the horny little bitch beneath me. The clap of my balls smacking against her tight little asshole filled the room.

PLAP.

PLAP.

"F-fuck, fuck, fuck - yesssss! Mmmf, please master I'm so close I'm so close!"

I leaned forward over Cassie's quaking body, my right hand drifting down to rub fervently against her slick clit while my left tweaked roughly at her hard pink nipples. Her pussy was beginning to convulse and spasm around my shaft, and I knew that she was on the precipice. She just needed a little bit more.

"Please, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuckmeeee… !" Her words began to slur and mesh together as her head fell back onto the soft mattress, drool leaking freely out the corner of her mouth. Her lower body began to lift and jerk upwards, and I adjusted my position mid-thrust so that I was still able to pound down into the wet, gripping depths of her fuckhole. She was tight, almost to the point of slight discomfort, but her overwhelming arousal made her body relax and loosen just enough to allow me plunging access.

I was hitting all the right spots, and I knew what was coming next.

"J-Jay! Jay, it feels too good I'm gonna pass out. I can't thiiiink!" Cassie's slurred voice was almost scared at the overstimulating feelings running through her body. I responded by lengthening and strengthening my thrusts.

"AAH!"

"On the count of three, baby." I spoke over her heavy pants and high-pitched moans. Her eyes dazedly turned over to me, and I grinned at the fucked-silly expression on her face. Talk about a way to lose your virginity.

"Ah~, ah~, MMM! W-what did you say?"

"One." I twisted her nipples sharply to the right, my large hand easily capable of grabbing both of the abused pink buds in one go, and felt Cassie's pussy contract around my dick in response. She screeched, gripping the sheets with a white-knuckled grip.

"Wait, w-wait, please Jay I'm g-gonna-"

"Two." My other hand turned into a blur as I began flicking and rubbing her swollen, aroused clitoris even faster. Not enough to hurt… much, but enough to take her over the edge.

"P-PLEASE! I'M, I CAN'T H-HOOOLD ITTTTT-"

"T-three. Fuck. Cum for me, baby." I could feel my heavy balls go tense as my willpower failed me, and stars began shooting like rockets across my vision. My hips sped into greased lightning as I tossed Cassie's legs over my shoulders, adjusted my position on the bed, and began laying into her with every ounce of frustration, anger, fear, and love I had roiling around in my body since I arrived in Earth Bet. Sweat dripped into my eyes but it did nothing to keep my sights away from my screaming, convulsing lover. Even in the throes of pleasure, she was mesmerizing and cute.

"J-Jay, Jay- JAYYYYY! I'M- I'M CUMMINGGGG! P-PLEASE, pleaseeee, itwon'tstooooop… !" She broke off into unintelligible babbling, grinding her pussy wantonly in the air as a mind-shattering orgasm tore through her body and sent her brain into a different dimension. Her eyes rolled back, drool staining the expensive-looking sheets beneath her head as a large amount of clear liquid sprayed out of her pussy like a cinched water hose.

I was used to an ex squirting, so the sudden spray didn't surprise me - I'd felt the telltale signs already. Instead, I pulled my cock out of her pussy with a loud, wet 'plop' and grinded the drenched shaft against her flexing and squirting entrance.

"Mmm, fuck yesss. Finally… !" I tensed my abs and snarled as stars exploded again, and my body was finally allowed to orgasm. Long, pearly white strands of hot, thick cum blasted from the engorged tip of my dick, splattering messily along Cassie's soft stomach, her heaving tits, and even sliding down into the graceful curve of her neck. It lasted for quite a few seconds - the majority of which I was grunting and zoned out, but by the end of it the thoroughly fucked hacker had finally stopped cumming. The amount of cum on her body was… definitely not normal.

I felt the amulet around my neck warm up at the realization. '… Alright, good to know - stamina translates to sex as well.' It, plus my own physical growth, was probably why lil' Jay was quickly growing hard once again.

Cassie blurrily opened her eyes and let out a low, shuddering groan. Gingerly, I lowered her hips to down to the bed - because she was unconsciously still arching them up - and leaned down to lightly kiss her on the lips. She squeaked at the contact, wiggling and blushing cutely when I pulled away. "You alright?"

"..Haaa," she breathed, fluttering her eyes closed. "I… feel like I'm dreaming. And floooating. Hehe… did that really just happen?" Her voice was slow, distant - clearly the girl was riding off of the post-orgasmic high.

I grinned with a mix of amusement and cockiness. "Yep," I popped the 'p', rubbing my hands down the sticky curvature of her thigh. Her hips jerked in response.

"Mmm…" Cassie opened her eyes again, and I had to stop myself from flinching at the pure breadth of adoration and warmth that was present in those dark, beautiful orbs. "You didn't go easy on me at all, Jay. Younger than me and still such a harlot. Not fair, hmph… " And there she was, pouting again. I chuckled at her expression.

"We'll try something different this time then." I said lightly, still stroking her thigh. She smiled dreamily in response.

"Hehe, yesss. I've seen a lot of hen- I mean, videos. Next time let's try-"

"Not next time," I cut her off, murmuring the language of the High Elves beneath my breath. Hysh, the Wind that I'd become most familiar with over the past few days, responded promptly to my call. A white glow ran from the hands on Cassie's thigh and straight into her body, and the girl moaned in surprise at the sudden invasion of purifying magic.

Cleansing Glow suffused her body before fading away like it was never there, leaving her completely and utterly spotless.

"U-um, thank you I guess, but what do you mean 'not next time'?" Anticipation and nervousness began to show on her face, and my cocky grin took on a slightly more greedy tint.

"I mean what I mean." I leaned back on my knees and swatted Cassie lightly on her inner thigh. It wasn't especially forceful or hard, but the meaty softness of her legs caused the slap to echo crisply through the room. She jumped, flushing with both arousal and fear. "Now turn around and stick your ass in the air, slut."

Her eyes widened at the demeaning term, and if it wasn't for the way that her thighs abruptly squished and rubbed together, I would've assumed that she was offended or hurt. "B-but, you just came. Google said that men-"

"One…" I began lazily, and her mouth opened in shock.

"Jay, wh-"

"Two…"

That was all the warning she needed, apparently. "Okay, master~."

With a squeak and a giggle that she tried to stifle in the sheets, Cassie hurried to roll over onto her stomach and clench the sheets beneath her. Her fat, jiggly ass rose tantalizingly slowly in the air, and I suspected that it was only the endorphins released by her squirting orgasm that gave her the confidence to wiggle those cheeks back and forth the way that she was doing. It wasn't exactly twerking yet, but they would be soon.

Her pussy was already beginning to drool in excitement - the incorrigible little minx. I gripped my hard shaft and gave it a slow pump. "Imma show you a few things you're never gonna experience watching hentai."

The wiggling ceased. "I don't watch hentai!" Cassie hissed over her shoulder, cheeks burning in self-righteous anger.

SMACK.

"Eee!"

I massaged the reddening globe of soft flesh and fixed her with a lazy, lidded stare. "'I don't watch hentai' what?" I asked condescendingly.

She pouted, shame and horniness clear on her face. Her ass wiggled again. " S-Siiiir," she whispered longingly.

I rubbed the bulbous head of my cock against her wet, slickened folds, grinning at her hiss of pleasure. "Good girl…"

That one positive affirmation was all she needed to throw her ass back, spearing her broken-in pussy completely on my dick in one forceful, gyrating motion.

"Ah, fuck…"

"MMMF, yesss… !"

And as we went for seconds, thirds, and after a quick use of Hysh, fourths… well, let's just say that not much productivity was had that evening.

Even still, however, throughout all of our passionate lovemaking, I had to wonder; what, exactly, did that make Cassie and I now?

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One (Revealed Next Chapter

Power-Granting Deal (Sailor Moon - 400 CP): You may grant a portion of your power and some of your powers to up to eight willing people at the same time, if you wish. This power is connected to you, and you may take it back any time you wish. However, your power will decrease the more power you give someone. You may also share your powers or other forms with people, but until you take them back you will lack the power you gave. You may, for example, give someone your fire powers or part of your vast wells of magical power or give your excess energy to someone to empower them.

Spoiler: Roll Two (Revealed Next Chapter

Hidden Intuition (Cultist Simulator - 200 CP): It's easy to get the title, but it's quite hard to keep the job. To grow old as a detective of the Suppression Bureau one requires more than just everyday skills. Through this ability you may identify hidden knowledge about a clue, an object, a situation, or a person in ways that are easy for you to understand. From your perspective, cursed items shrill ominously, poisons fume with a toxic green color, important items glow visibly, and bad situations make your skin crawl. What's better is that these experiences are always trustworthy as they cannot be imitated, suppressed or countered, and they always adapt to cover new situations that you experience or new senses that you unlock.

850 CP Remaining (For Now).

Spoiler: A/N

Yooo, wassup guys! Pretty long NSFW scene here, apologies - I got a bit carried away after taking a day to relax and recharge. We'll get back to the action next chapter, just take this one as the sexual build-up and release it was supposed to be.

Chapter 16

Sanctum was a positively curious ability.

It magically affected the world on a metaphysical level, seamlessly transmuting the entirety of our little bunker into a moderately-sized, expensive looking apartment suite that hinged around a sleek, modern gothic design. How it managed to incorporate working power and running water completely confounded me on a 'logical' level, but the more arcane side of my brain just barely recognized the magic for what it was - an innocuous warping of space and time aimed towards a virtually infinite set of 'prefabs' created by my own brain.

Otherwise known as 'bullshit'.

Later that night found me lying beside a quietly snoring Cassie, wide-awake and full of energy after a nap and shower. It was funny - after everything that happened between us, I still didn't know the girl's last name or backstory. We survived a nazi attack, became roommates, slept in the same bed, made passionate and animalistic love, and she was now my… girlfriend? Fuckbuddy? All without us knowing each other's actual story.

'… I like the term 'girlfriend' more,' I decided, brushing a strand of black hair out of her face. Her nose scrunched up at the sensation of my finger, and she whimpered quietly as she tucked her head closer into my side. A dry, humorless chuckle escaped my throat. "A week in Earth Bet, and I'm already falling for a hot chick." I wasn't angry at it, though - I'd already decided that I was gonna figure out a way to get the fuck outta Worm and take her with me, Celestial Grimoire-sponsored or not.

I wasn't the type to just lie down and be mopey about shit, so the next obvious course of action was figuring out omnidimensional traversal magic myself if the Grimoire didn't give me a better option once I was done on Earth Bet.

It wasn't as if I was completely out on my ass when it came to options, either. Over the course of the last week I managed to gain quite a few magical abilities, and some of them could be useful when it came to leaving Worm. That was the kicker, too - leaving Earth Bet just wasn't good enough. Scion was fucking ridiculous, and from what I remembered crossing different dimensions was as easy as walking through an invisible door for him. He could destroy countless alternative Earths as easily as he destroyed a single one, and unless I escaped this multiverse I was pretty much a sitting duck.

Unless, of course, I obtained the power to kill the Warrior Entity myself, but I could only take things one at a time.

That's where magic trumped these alien assholes, though. The Grimoire was bullshit. Magic was bullshit. I practically fathered the birth of a new dimension purely by accepting the Winds into Earth Bet with a mental nudge of my soul. If I managed to crack the arcane code of birthing an omnidimensional spell that allowed me to jump between dimensions outside of the Entities' cognition, then I was pretty damn sure that Scion wouldn't be able to follow me without magic himself. And if I managed to take out the Slaughterhouse Nine before leaving, then I'd even give Earth Bet another essential few years of survival before the Cycle continued.

The results of that?

I could leave, amass even more power and possibly allies in more lucrative worlds, and come back to stick my arcane foot up Scion's depressed and lonely ass. Preferably while keeping Cassie in a safe and decidedly non-grimderp location. The plan wasn't fool-proof, sure, but it was a lot more solid than 'destroy the nazis and wait for the grimoire to give me more shit'.

I already had a beginner's grasp of the Path of Convoyence, as shitty as the 'one dot' ten foot limitation was. What was stopping me from training its efficiency, increasing my 'dots' up to five without pulling the upgrade directly from the Grimoire? Absolutely nothing.

Except… I was still old me, intellect-wise. Above average if I had to guess, now with photographic memory, but I wasn't some prodigal spellcrafting wizard. Developing the Path of Convoyence was well within my grasp, in addition to honing my mastery of the Winds and increasing my martial ability. Heroic Aptitude practically guaranteed that I would eventually become a legend in skill the more tribulations I faced, and it was helping me with adapting to and using my magic effectively.

However, it didn't guarantee the creativity and knowledge needed to finagle together a spell the likes of which could bridge the gap between Earth Bet and the larger omniverse.

I could try, for sure - and I would. I was nothing if not resolute and stubborn. But, I would be looking out for a perk that would also assist me in my intelligence and magical aptitude. So far brute force had worked out nicely, but just brute forcing magical attacks wouldn't work forever. I had to remember that.

'Time for more reckless magical experimentation,' I smirked, channeling my mana and activating my sorcery. This time, however, I tried to focus on how the spell worked as I casted it.

The Path of Convoyence worked through what was known as 'linear magic', or 'hedge magic'. It was a form of spellcasting that was ultimately seen as less open-ended and powerful than, say, 'dynamic magic', or 'true magic'. Point A to Point B. In other words, the sorcery that I gained from the Grimoire was made for baby mages whose eyes were barely even open to actual magic - otherwise known as being 'unawakened'.

This type of magic was inherently difficult, and almost impossible, to mold into something more than itself - hence the term 'linear'. Fortunately, Convoyence still utilized the universal mana pool that the Grimoire granted me inside of my core, which saved me from having to keep track of a dozen different sources of magic at once.

Honestly, the fact that I was multiple leagues higher on the wizarding totem pole than a 'hedge wizard' was probably the only reason I could utilize Convoyence without the significant restrictions placed upon the sorcery, like a 'ritualistic vehicle' and other nonsense. Did that fact fill me with confidence that hedge magic would be of great assistance in my current ultimate goal? No… but understanding a bit more on how it works could do nothing but help.

A hedge wizard was like a red-haired stepchild dutifully asking Mama Reality to let them play a little outside, and only in the safe part of the playground. Fortunately, Mama Reality was relatively kind to the black sheep of the family, even if she obviously favored her biological children, 'The Awakened'. I could work with being the unwanted stepchild though, at least for now.

Becoming 'Awakened' was exceedingly difficult, but not impossible. Just another task to work on amongst many, and one that I didn't need to rush towards just yet. I had to take things step by step in order to not become overwhelmed, and increasing my mastery and understanding of Convoyence was essential to broadening my understanding of the magic from the World of Darkness.

In a quiet woosh of air, I was standing, half-naked, in the doorway of what I was tentatively willing to label 'the master bedroom'. This time, I felt the way that the magic transported me - the way that my body simply ceased to exist in the bed, and was reformed instantly through the power of my own mana in the middle of the doorway. Seamless and clean, but extremely straightforward and rigid. The spell moved me exactly ten feet. It was a heady sensation, opening my mind up to how my own magic affected both my body and reality.

"Huh," I breathed, turning my attention away from the magical introspection and taking in the rest of my 'lair'.

I'd already memorized the layout of the Sanctum after getting up to grab some food a couple hours ago, and while it wasn't the biggest place in the world, it was definitely larger than before and many times more cozy and clean. The modern gothic aesthetic continued throughout the rest of the Sanctum, and in total there were two floors. On the second floor was the master bedroom, a computer room filled with Cassie's scavenged technology, and a nice looking office that I immediately claimed as my own. Every badass modern-day mage needed a decadent office, right? I was happy that the Sanctum agreed.

The first floor was quite a bit larger. Heading down the stairs brought me into the living room, a relatively large and cozy space complete with a couple of leather lounge chairs, a nice-sized couch, and some miscellaneous decor that didn't look like it would be too out of place in the Addams Family. No flatscreen TV, though - which wasn't too surprising, since my office lacked a laptop or computer setup. The kitchen definitely had a brand new refrigerator and stove, though, so that didn't really make much sense…

'Eh, I'll just buy 'em.'

A relatively small kitchen was attached to the living room, stocked to the brim with… leftover pizza bagels, some cheap coffee pods, a stack of frozen TV dinners, and a half-eaten box of Cinnamon Crunchies - which were a lot less tasty than my world's Cinnamon Toast Crunch. We were in dire need of actual groceries. The leftovers would last for another night or two, maybe, but it wasn't as if we were hurting for money at the moment. Cassie had a couple grand stowed away for a rainy day, and I… actually wasn't sure how much money I was actually working with. Parian hadn't given me a price because we ended up shooting the shit instead of hashing out payment plans right before she had to dip.

I doubted the costume would cost too much money, especially since it was pretty much just cosplay made with normal materials. Sliding my smartphone out of the pockets of my sweatpants, I quickly navigated to Parian's contact info and typed out a quick message.

(9:08 PM) Avalon: Yo, good evening. How does 2k sound for the whole outfit?

Seen

It was viewed almost immediately.

I paused in the middle of the kitchen, eyeing the screen patiently, but no 'Parian is typing… ' popped up even after a full thirty seconds. Two thousand was probably pretty heavy for what she usually worked with, but I wasn't sure just how much the prices for Cape-related shit inflated in comparison to, say, Gucci or Prada. I wanted quality, and I'd made that clear earlier. Parian didn't seem like the type to fuck me over, especially with the, dare I say, friendship we seemed to have roused between each other. And, in the case that she did, well… I wouldn't even know until I was already jipped out of the cash, so fuck it. I'd head to Brockton U. and rob her dorm or something if need be.

After a couple more seconds of waiting for her to respond, I shrugged my shoulders and headed out of the kitchen. A short, relatively plain hallway with dim lighting connected the kitchen to the last room created by my magic.

This addition was a bit of a head scratcher purely because I didn't remember having it in mind when forming the Sanctum - and I always remembered. It was by far the largest room in the… apartment? Bunker? Whatever - bottom line, it was pretty fucking huge. Two large, gilded wooden double doors at the end of the hallway opened outwards into what could only be described as an empty dueling/training arena. The floor was made from a smooth dark wood that refused to give me splinters no matter how much I slid my bare foot against it, and both the walls and the ceiling were made of some ebony colored stone that reminded me of obsidian.

If I had to approximate the general size of the room, I'd say it was probably comparable to a high-school gymnasium - just enough to run around and play sports with a dozen or so people. Or, rather, it was just big enough to practice and experiment with increasingly dangerous and destructive magical spells without exploding or setting important shit on fire. I would need targets and other such things to actually attempt certain spells on, but as far as just being enough open space to let loose with… it was definitely good enough. Good thinking, Sanctum.

Maybe I could even purchase some actual workout equipment, turn it partially into an actual gym? I hadn't actually thought about doing genuine workouts, but if I placed myself under a decent amount of stress wouldn't Heroic Aptitude also optimize and accelerate my muscle growth? Just because Link was a twink didn't mean I had to be.

Those were purchases for later, though. I had things I needed to purchase for our new place, but they could wait for the morning. For now, I wanted to mess around with some of the ideas that were floating around in my head. Just to make sure that the protective magic was working, however…

I demanded Aqshy and Hysh to hearken my call, snagging onto the trace amounts I could feel hovering around my body and gathering the Winds like a looter would bag treasured items. They mushed and writhed together beneath my curled fingers, sparks and bright white light visible even through my skin as I chanted loudly in Anoqeyån.

The words just came to me - there was no specific spell I had in mind when smashing and cording together Aqshy and Hysh, just pure radiant destruction. A beam, perhaps? To purify and cleanse both the body and soul with overwhelming holy fire? That sounded suitably badass - but whether it succeeded or failed was unimportant. I just wanted to see if my defenses would hold.

"- kulak mahl ul chaka!"

The Winds screamed. They lurched and fought to heed my direction, but the channeling was too abrupt and heavy-handed. I could feel the Aethyr buckle and rampage beneath my control, only barely restrained, but even that restraint was quickly disappearing. In only a matter of a fraction of seconds, the spell would lose all cohesiveness and blow me away or turn my soul into corrupted sludge-

Woosh.

Only, it didn't. The winds abruptly calmed and went silent like a blabbering child absconded by its mother. I sagged, letting out a breath of air so heavy that it blew locks of my hair back out of my face. My heart was beating rapidly, but there was a large, crooked grin on my lips. The Sanctum worked, that much was clear - even better than I thought it would. It allowed me to fully cultivate the Winds, albeit in a rushed and fundamentally incorrect manner, up until the point of no return. Only until I was at the precipice of destruction and self-harm did it activate and soothe the Aethyr.

This place was a fucking gold mine for training the chaotic and spontaneous arts of magic. Absolutely incredible.

As I breathed in and out, calming my racing heart, there was only one thing on my mind at that moment.

"… Hehe, let's fuckin' do it again."

Two hours later…

Sweat poured down my body in streams, pooling beneath me in a lukewarm puddle that was honestly disgusting. Exhaling softly, I called upon the glimmering rays of Hysh that were still drifting through the air. Cleansing Glow lit around both me and the puddle of sweat before dissipating, revealing clean and smooth chocolate brown skin and a dry, spotless floor. Such simple, yet useful magic.

Originally, I hadn't planned on turning my magical experimentation into a physical training collaboration, but I enjoyed working out and I figured my spellcasting would only improve if I attempted channeling and casting while doing handstand push ups and sprinting laps. Surprisingly - or, possibly unsurprisingly - the Winds were a passive amplifier to my physical state if I allowed and trusted them to be.

Aqshy seemed to bolster my energy, strength, and speed, giving me what could only be described as 'adrenaline drips' the more I enveloped my body with its Wind. Shyish, curiously enough, seemed to do roughly the same thing - only, it seemed to deaden my flagging exhaustion if I allowed the purple Wind to fill my lungs and muscles… which felt weird and distinctly uncomfortable. Hysh wrapped it all back around together, revitalizing my stamina whenever I felt my body aching and energy beginning to flag. Using Healing of Hysh to heal my body after becoming extremely sore also seemed to rebuild the muscles a fraction stronger and tougher than before - or, at least it felt that way.

Obviously I wouldn't know for sure unless I had someone like Panacea help me with testing, but… I wasn't really trying to knock up that particular tree just yet, if I could help it. I still had options.

Overall, I'd say that the experiment went exceedingly well. I was still pretty damn tired and not too much closer to solving omnidimensional spell creation than I was before, but I still felt pretty good about everything. At the very least, I was more in tune with the Winds, and they were giving me the feeling that what I sought was definitely attainable. The specifics were lost to me at my current level of understanding, but my gut hinted at Ulgu - the foggy and mysterious Grey Wind of Magic. I'd simply have to learn and experiment more, and the thought was an optimistic one.

And then, there was my newest gift from the Grimoire. I turned my head lazily, eyeing the small box of colorful potions that rested on the floor beside me.

Spoiler: Potion Package (Legend of Zelda: Hero of Worlds - 100 CP)

Health, Magic and Stamina potions, which replenish weekly.

Straight up magical potions. My soul charge was beginning to lack after attaining the ability to grant powers and become the world's greatest detective, so I'd been hesitant about accepting the potions at first. But then I got to thinking - I already possessed multiple Legend of Zelda-derived abilities. What would stop me from reverse-engineering more of these potions?

As far as I could remember from the game series, they fully healed your 'hearts' along with your stamina and magic. I also played through the entirety of Breath of the Wild, so unless the recipes changed greatly between the continuities I already knew the ingredients needed to make more as long as certain things like 'bokoblin horns' could be replaced by more mundane creatures.

And if it didn't work? Well, I now had a box of six that would fully replenish every week. If nothing else, I could use these for emergencies where my usual magic spells were unable to heal me for whatever reason. Two health potions, two stamina potions, and two magic potions… not a bad haul for such a small charge.

"There you are, Jason. Holy shit, have you seen the rest of the bunker? Or, I guess it's like… an apartment now? Kinda?"

My heart jumped at the sound of Cassie's awed voice echoing in the large training room. I wasn't surprised by her arrival - this was her home as well, after all, and I hadn't exactly locked the doors. No, my heart was beating faster because of the sound of her voice. The logical, more adult side of my mind recognized this fact distantly, almost amusedly. I had sex one time and just hearing her was making my heart skip beats. 'Ridiculous, Jay.'

I lightly leaped to my feet in a smooth and practiced motion, exhaling any frayed nerves out of my chest before turning to Cassie. She was looking around the room, eyes wide in wonder and amazement as she took everything in. There wasn't much to take in, admittedly, but normal people tended to be shocked by random gymnasiums being magically created with the snap of a finger. Her arms were crossed around her bare stomach, seemingly for warmth - understandable since she was only wearing a bra and black pajama bottoms.

My eyes narrowed, and I peered closer. My brain and eyes tingled as insightful information began flying through my skull.

The crossing of her arms weren't only for the sake of generating body heat - there was tension along her shoulders and neck, a nervousness that seemed familiar to me. Her eyes were wide in wonder, but the slight scrunching of her nose hinted at something bothering her. She was purposefully not looking at me, because the direction of her gaze and the position of her head would have put her sight on a natural rotation directly aimed towards me unless otherwise shifted. Goosebumps along the pale skin of both forearms combined with the slight tinge of Ulgu and Aqshy on the air only cinched the obvious:

Cassie is nervous and unsure about how I view her after our rigorous fucking earlier in the day, and is avoiding eye contact because looking at me would cause her emotions to bubble over and force the 'after sex' conversation. She wants me to-

I winced and forcibly shut that specific part of my brain up.

Hidden Intuition was about as efficient and useful as I'd originally thought it would be when I accepted the perk into my arsenal, but holy shit was it dense. There was no headache or pain from the influx of insights, but I was a little overstimulated from the sudden rush of information. It all happened in the span of a brief second or two, though I instinctively knew that I could stop or lighten the process with sheer force of will.

I'd never have Tattletale's problem of knowing everyone's deepest and darkest desires or secrets solely because I could control just what sort of information I received and when I received it, if I deigned to even activate the ability. For now, I willed it to its lowest 'setting'. More insight was always useful, but I didn't need the full force with Cassie of all people.

Seeing as she was still studying the walls and ceilings in a very obvious manner, I stifled an amused snort and walked closer to the petite girl.

"Cass," I said lowly, gently grasping her chin and turning her face up to look at me. She shivered at the sensation of my fingers against her skin - aroused, nervous, hopeful - and silently stared into my eyes.

"… Yes?" Her voice was high, squeaky, and decidedly not cool. It was clear that she was completely in unknown territory and was relying entirely on me to make my stance known… so I did.

"I don't like to pussyfoot around things, never have, so I'm just gonna give it to you straight: I want you. Badly. And unless I'm readin' things waaaay sideways, you want me too - feel free tell me if I'm wrong."

For her sake, I dutifully ignored the way that her eyes were beginning to glimmer with tears.

"Y-you're not wrong," Cassie breathed, her cheeks turning scarlet. She swallowed heavily, closing her eyes and shaking her head from left to right. "I- fuck, asshole, I swear I'm not crying. I'm not a-a crybaby or anything. I just-"

I softly wiped a traitorous tear away from her splotchy cheeks. "You definitely are. Crying, that is. But keep going." A lopsided grin was on my face, but I could feel my own body heating up as a particularly addictive mixture of happiness, anticipation, and something that I was not going to name just yet pierced through my beating heart.

Cassie opened her eyes again, sniffling and pinning me with a heated glare. "Shut- shut up. I just t-thought that you'd see this as a… one night stand kinda thing, y'know? I spent the last couple hours trying to figure out how to, um… approach the situation." The heat drained out of her eyes as she spoke, and she suddenly seemed tired. Tired and hopeful. She smiled a watery smile and let out a loud, minty breath. "But yes, I want you. I wanna be with your cocky ass."

I tilted my head. "We've been living together for the past week. You're gonna have to be more specific."

She laughed and wiggled her head rapidly, twisting out of my soft grip. I let her go. "Oh no, we are not doing this. You have to ask me!" Still splotchy-cheeked and teary-eyed, Cassie placed her hands on her hips and glowered.

"Says who?" I arched an eyebrow.

"What? I don't know, gender roles? Modern-day media? Societal expectations?"

"The only rules I follow are my own."

"I said 'roles', dummy. And ew, edgy much? I'm not the biggest fan of adhering to society's standards, but you-" I blinked, ignoring what my cute little hacker was saying and instead observing her body language. She was smiling and snorting at our usual banter like always, but I could see that she was still not very confident about the whole thing. She needed me to make it abundantly clear where our relationship lied, outside of our very obvious mutual attraction.

I could also do that.

"Ugh. Jay, are you even listeni- mmf… ?" My lips cut her complaints off at the source. This kiss was softer, less sexually charged and dominating - but no less sweet and heated. I could feel all of the worry and stress practically ease out of Cassie's body as she collapsed against me, wrapping her arms around my neck and breathing harshly through her nose. She was an inexperienced kisser, and if not for my own talent at locking lips we probably would have had a clumsy teeth-colliding accident, but that only made it all the more sweet.

She was practically panting when I pulled away. "Wha- why? Huuuh."

I grinned like a cat who caught the canary. "Would you do me the honors of becoming my girlfriend, Cassie?"

Her confused and stupefied expression cleared in an instant. I almost thought she was calling on Hysh with the amount of radiant beauty that brightened her smile. Fortunately for her ego, no more tears were shed. "Hm," she breathed, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against mine. Her next words were practically whispers when she said them. "I guess I can do that. Si- since you asked so chivalrously." Her spotty attempt to seem cool and graceful could not hide the giddiness in her words. It definitely couldn't hide the relief and pure joy that I could see in the tiny, extraneous microexpressions displayed throughout her entire face.

"Sweet," I smiled, placing another chaste kiss on her lips before pulling back. "Now, as my cute and adorably nerdy girlfriend, I gotta ask… do you want power?"

Cassie stopped nuzzling her face against my chest in order to give me a puzzled and deadpan stare. "We've already been over this, Jay - I have powers. My super awesome and badass coding magic - you called it that yourself." She took a step back and tilted her chin up proudly.

I waved a hand. "Yeah, and I stand by what I said, but earlier today I gained an ability that lets me share some of my powers. I'm not the biggest fan of leaving you alone with nothing but Snapchat to defend yourself with, so I figured I'd buff you up a little."

I'd thought about it over the past few hours, and I decided that giving Cassie a small magical core of her own was worth it for a small number of reasons. While I would be sacrificing a bit of my own overall mana to charge her core, I already had a large amount of mana - a small drainage off of that was nothing in the face of Cassie being able to defend herself. Furthermore, my most powerful abilities at the moment - the Winds of Magic - didn't even use my inner supply.

Additionally, unless I was understanding my ability wrong - and I didn't think I was - granting Cassie a portion of my mana would make her compatible with whatever types of magic I was already attuned to via the Grimoire. While she wouldn't be able to utilize the Aethyr without the connection to it that I possessed, teaching her Weapon Magic wasn't out of the realm of possibility. She wouldn't have my instinctive grasp of the magic, and it was doubtful that she'd be able to do large-scale attacks with only a fraction of my mana, but even a little bit was better than nothing.

Hidden Intuition was a godsend - that whole thought process only took a couple seconds to fully flesh out in my head.

Cassie was still chewing on my words when I returned my attention to her. "… Alright," she sighed, taking her hands off of her hips and swinging her gaze back to me. "But only if I get to choose what color my badass energy attacks get to be. Like, a dappled fuchsia or a glimmering emerald." She made finger-guns and aimed the sights down at me, a glare on her brow.

"Bang!"

I rolled my eyes, bemused. "I didn't even tell you which power you were getting." I commented drily, walking over to the small box of colorful potions and picking them up.

"So? You're not the only smart one, babe."

I paused at the pet name, but Cassie continued without realizing what she called me.

"Honestly, you've got to get a handle on that arrogance bucko. Just because you're super hot, fit, beautiful, have an amazing voice, and a big di- um," she hesitated, blushing hotly, " Penis doesn't mean you're the greatest thing since sliced bread!"

I paused in front of her, the box of potions held firmly under my left arm. "… Uh-huh. So how'd you figure out that-"

"I-it was a guess, alright?! Geez."

I snorted. Loudly. "Alright, smart one, go grab the uzi from the bedroom - it's in the upper left drawer of the dresser. The magazine's empty, but we won't need actual bullets." I ruffled her hair with my free hand, easily avoiding her counter-swat, and made my way towards the exit of the training room.

Cassie followed me almost immediately.

"Ugh, it's so weird how you remember the specifics of everything so clearly. Unfair, too. And are those magic potions?! Like, video game magic potions?" She went to grab one, and I smoothly dodged out of the way.

"Yes." I smirked, holding the box on my head where the bratty hacker couldn't reach. "They do exactly what you think they do. Imma place 'em in the fridge."

"How do they work?" Cassie gaped, walking backwards in front of me so that she could stare at my newest pet project. The hallway wasn't the longest, however, and we were quickly approaching the door to the kitchen, so I clicked my tongue and gestured for her to walk normally. She pouted, but obliged immediately.

"To be honest with you… I'm not too sure. My powers apparently don't just give me new abilities - they can sometimes give me items too." We stepped into the kitchen, and I headed straight for the barren refrigerator. Potions didn't need to be refrigerated, but I figured they'd taste better chilled rather than lukewarm. The lack of food in the freezer was depressing, but I ignored it in favor of carefully putting each glass bottle orderly towards the back, where it was coolest.

Cassie sat her wonderfully cushiony ass on the counter, her brow furrowed as she listened to my half-baked explanation. "Sort of like premade Tinkertech? You can't just casually throw 'Tinker' onto your bullshit list of 'fuck you' powers, Jay."

"It's something like that," I responded noncommittally.

When I closed the freezer and turned around, I saw her staring at me with an unamused glare - probably because of the lackadaisical way I was explaining my abilities. To be fair, I didn't want to lie to my new girlfriend about the origins of my powers, but there was too much I wasn't sure about when it came to the chunk of alien bullshit attached to her brain. Until I could properly disconnect her Shard from its network and sever that connection completely, I was going to stay consistent with my 'overpowered Trump' lie. It was already failing, but I knew she'd understand. Hopefully.

"Look," I sighed, walking over and brushing a strand of hair out of her narrowed eyes. Cassie cocked a brow and frowned, but it was obvious that she enjoyed the physical attention - she practically nuzzled into my hand. "There's a lot I'm still learning about myself and my powers. There's a lot happening beneath the hood, Cass. Just trust me."

And she did trust me - that much I could tell, even without my inhuman intuition.

"Mmm," Cassie grumbled, softly nipping at my finger. "Fine. I trust you more than you know, jackass. You came out of nowhere and tossed my quiet life completely on its head, and I wouldn't want it any other way. You can keep your secrets for now ." A smile played on her soft lips. The words came from the heart, so sudden and warmth-filled that it had me of all people tongue-tied.

"… Uh. I-"

She giggled - a light, bell-like sound. "Hehe, don't say anything. It's nice to get the last word against a smartass like you." Cassie hopped off the counter, kissed me on the cheek, and skipped towards the living room, leaving me watching her go with half-lidded eyes. "I'll go grab the gun!"

I rubbed a hand down my face. "She's gonna be the death of me…"

The Grimoire chose this moment to remind me that it did, in fact, still exist. A lurching in my gut turned my attention inwards, and I felt the hook fly towards a small mote of light.

Spoiler: Magic Mirror (Terraria - 100 CP)

A simple fancy mirror that can be designated with a 'spawn point', and which, when you gaze within, will teleport you to that exact point, shifting you to the next clear area if that spot is occupied. Must be within several hundred miles of the 'spawn point' for this to function.

'Hah, Tinkertech indeed.'

It didn't take me longer than a second of thought to accept the magical item - several hundred miles wasn't an extreme distance when you took into account just how big the world was, but it was definitely impressive enough. I'd be able to return to my Sanctum in an instant if things got too hairy out in the field as long as I stayed in the Northeastern side of the United States. I'd be able to make riskier moves, thread the needle of danger just a little bit more as long as I retained the ability to look into the mirror.

Brockton Bay really wouldn't know what hit it. Preparations were being made, nests were kicked, and all I needed was my costume to be completed before I made my official debut. Overall, things were looking to be on the up and up. It was a curious feeling, actually looking forward to the mayhem and fighting that awaited me in the near future. It was a far cry from the original despair and misery that overwhelmed me when I was first dropped into this world. Better, though, in basically every way.

I just wanted to make sure that Cassie was prepared as well.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One

Potion Package (Legend of Zelda: Hero of Worlds - 100 CP): Health, Magic and Stamina potions, which replenish weekly.

Spoiler: Roll Two

Magic Mirror (Terraria - 100 CP): A simple fancy mirror that can be designated with a 'spawn point', and which, when you gaze within, will teleport you to that exact point, shifting you to the next clear area if that spot is occupied. Must be within several hundred miles of the 'spawn point' for this to function.

350 CP Remaining.

Chapter 17

Next Evening…

I had been anticipating it, but receiving Parian's follow-up text saying that she completed the costume was still unexpected. She was a cape with the unique power of controlling the very same materials that she used to design outfits with. Was it any wonder that she didn't need as much time as a human fashion designer to work on her projects? Then again, judging off of what she texted me, the whole process had probably been a bit of a hyperfixation for her all night…

(4:15 PM) Parian: Sorry for not replying yesterday! I ended up getting a burst of inspiration during class and left early to get started since I had a lot of the supplies already. After our talk about videogames I decided to do more research into fantasy tropes and wizard characters and they actually have such an interesting aesthetic. I couldn't find anything on 'Gortash', but the description you gave me was more than detailed enough for me to make a miniature model to go off of. I added in a few things that I feel would add to the style and flair, and will hopefu

Parian is typing…

(4:18 PM) Parian: TMI, sorry. Basically I'm done with the costume, it was eye-opening and a joy to work on, and we can discuss the commission price when you come to pick it up. Say… 6:30 at the Hillside Mall? I can send you the location.

(4:19 PM) Avalon: Lol sounds good. The whole 'design obsession' thing is cute btw. Passion is hot.

Parian is typing…

Parian is typing…

Parian is-

And that was all she wrote. Thankfully I was already planning to go out during the day and grab some things for the Sanctum, so meeting Parian downtown was more convenient than going out of my way to meet her on the Boardwalk instead. I'd thought about forcing Cassie out of bed in order for her to get some sunlight - spending a week in an underground bunker couldn't be good for your health - but she was exhausted from training practically the entire night and I didn't have the heart to rouse her from her drooling unconsciousness. Weapon Magic wasn't as simple for her to pick up as I'd hoped it would be, and it turns out that teaching about 'souls' and 'determination' wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.

We had time to work on it, though, and Rome wasn't built in a day.

I easily ignored the stares that me in my makeshift vigilante costume was gaining as I headed towards the Hillside Mall's food court. It was pushing 6:34 and Parian had sent me her location via text an odd fifteen or so minutes ago, so I was only slightly late - fashionably, if anything. It wasn't even my fault, either - I had to spend a couple minutes comforting some teenager who almost got stabbed by a homeless mugger, and that delayed my badass 6:30 arrival time by four whole minutes.

I ended up saving someone some trauma and stab wounds, though, so it was worth it. Hopefully the cops managed to grab the mugger before the mana spear skewering his body to the wall ran out of juice.

It didn't take me much wandering to find the food court. The Hillside Mall was a fairly large and wealthy shopping center, and there was a board with a color-coded map of the building placed at the front entrance. A brief glance forever burned the layout of the mall directly into my brain. I doubted that I was the only cape with perfect photographic memory, but I knew that if being a mage with infinite potential didn't work out I'd make a killing as a tour guide.

"Avalon!" A familiarly creepy, frock-wearing woman called out to me from a neat little table in front of 'Moriarty's Parfaits'. Like before, Parian seemed completely and utterly at ease in the face of stares and whispers from the Brockton Bay peanut gallery. This time it was a bit more overt, however, considering the six foot tall, patchwork teddy bear standing silently over her shoulder.

It would've made for an intimidating sight if Parian herself wasn't five foot nothing and wearing a wig straight from Goldilocks. Instead, it appeared more… whimsical. There were people subtly taking pictures and pointing as they ate their expensive mall food, but it wasn't out of fear or horror. Parian was probably more of a novelty to them, fairytale-esque and harmless.

Pulling myself out of the insightful thoughts, I squared my shoulders and made my way over to Parian's table. The bear moved as I approached, going around to the only other chair and pulling it out for me. My lips twitched as I slouched back in the politely-offered seat, tossing my ankle over my knee.

"Neat trick," I smirked, watching as the bear moved back around to take up his bodyguarding position behind Parian's chair.

Her mask lifted off of her face almost imperceptibly, Parian inclined her head and placed her strawberry cream parfait down on the table. There was a touch of embarrassed pride in her voice when she responded. "Thank you. I like to bring my creations with me when I'm out in public like this… helps endear me to the locals."

"And ol' Tibbers back there can probably break a nazi vertebrae or two if they get a little pushy, right?" I kept my voice low and conversational - we were in the Empire's territory as far as I was aware, and while I was unafraid of ruffling their feathers I didn't want Parian's name to get pulled into my bullshit as well.

Parian was quiet for a heartbeat, her doe-like eyes staring into mine, before she acquiesced with a sigh. "If need be," she allowed, a small smile playing at her lips beneath her mask. I couldn't see it, but I knew it regardless - it was all in the eyes. "But I'm sure you didn't come all the way here to compliment Teddy's strength."

I easily caught the note of excitement in her otherwise composed voice. She really wanted to show me the costume.

"I guess I didn't." I chuckled, leaning forward and placing my elbows on the table. The impact lightly shook her parfait, which was already sagging from humidity and lack of attention, but Parian didn't seem bothered. I tilted my head, eyes scanning the very empty floor beneath her feet and the lack of garment bags on the table. "So where's the goods?"

As soon as I asked and thought the question, my heart skipped a beat. It wasn't completely correct to say that time slowed down, but it would be incorrect to say that it didn't, as well. My gaze dropped back down to the floor, up to her empty hands that were currently in the process of taking another scoop out of her sugary treat, and then it lingered on 'Teddy', her big and rotund stuffed guardian. Before my very eyes, its large, 'stuffed' belly glowed a mystifying blue - or, rather, something inside of it glowed blue. And, in a blurred rush of conclusive thoughts, the realization hit me.

Where else would be the safest place to keep a potentially expensive, freshly sown costume, other than the hollow insides of a supernaturally tough stuffed animal?

Another heartbeat later, and my perception of time continued as normal. I was put off from the sudden and disconcerting moment, but I tried to not let it show on my face as I waited for Parian to savor the taste of sweet cream. It was obvious that she was planning to milk my 'confusion' for a couple seconds longer, and I didn't have it in me to ruin her fun when she'd been nothing but cordial and kind to me. Not everyone had unfair Thinker powers, after all.

"Mmm," she demurred, placing her plastic spoon back on its napkin and momentarily ignoring my inquiry, "A tasty treat, indeed."

A snort ripped out of my chest before I could stop it. "You gonna keep playing up the 'mysterious benefactor' act or are you gonna show me what you worked super hard on all night?"

The illusion of graceful coolness broke immediately, and her voice raised slightly with barely restrained excitement. "Alright, spoil-sport. " The smile was obvious in her voice as she made a 'come hither' gesture over her shoulder with one hand and looked back at the huge teddy bear. The light pink fuzz on his stomach, a completely different color from the rest of its patchwork body, suddenly flayed open in an impressive display of control and power.

A needle danced in the air as nigh invisible threads and strings unraveled from each other and revealed an empty, cavernous hole in the bear's stomach.

Gingerly placed inside, in a black garment bag, was my order. I couldn't exactly see the details with it covered as it was, but I had full confidence in Parian's work. Perhaps a bit unfounded, considering she hadn't actually run a costume business in canon, but her skill made sense. She was practically made for shit like this.

The teddy bear reached inside of its own stomach and gently placed the garment bag on the table, before digging a bit deeper inside and grabbing what my eyes immediately clocked as a gilded, cool-looking opera mask - a bit different than what I was working with now, but infinitely more professional and striking. I rather liked it.

I leaned back and kept my hands on my lap, noting the slight nervousness that suddenly appeared in Parian's tense shoulders. Food court-goers were paying more attention now, but I figured that's what she had been hoping for - to create a bit of buzz online, maybe get her name as a competent and skilled Rogue out on the streets in order to receive more commissions.

The thought was a bit naive, though - despite what her costume made her appear as, she was Middle-Eastern, and she operated out of nazi territory. Or Coil's - I got their little territory feud mixed up more often than not. Regardless, without a team backing her, it was only a matter of time before someone took interest in her abilities and forced her to make a decision she didn't want to make. And we both knew that the Empire wouldn't like what they saw beneath the mask when it was eventually discovered.

Regardless, it wasn't any of my business. I had enough on my plate as is, and it wasn't even a guaranteed outcome - I was probably just being a bit of a pessimistic pete.

"The mask," Parian spoke up, taking my silent stare as an invitation to continue the reveal, "Was one of the additions I mentioned through text. I normally stick to light fibers like silk or polyester, but I wanted to go a bit out of my comfort zone with my first cape order." Her voice rose a bit higher as her passion for the project began to slip through her feigned professionalism. "It's made of a polycarbonate alloy that should be able to withstand a decent amount of physical damage. Heat-resistant and flame-retardant, too… just don't trust it against, er - sustained fire."

I tilted my head, bemused, as I ran my finger over the ornate-looking mask. It was cool to the touch, and slight pressure from my fingertips garnered no reaction. "You're saying if I try to headbut a bullet, I'd be the one losing?"

Parian shook her head rapidly. "No, it's thick enough to block lower caliber rounds. Just don't rely too heavily on it in a gunfight. The mask only covers about forty percent of your face anyway, Avalon." Dry concern dripped into her tone, taking any heat out of her next words. "I hope you don't plan on 'headbutting bullets'. My first customer dying in such a stupid way would be bad for future business."

That got a light chuckle out of me. "Fine, I'm not really the tanking type anyway. I'll have you know that I haven't been shot once since the last time we spoke face to face."

Her voice, if possible, became even drier. "We met literally yesterday. It's been less than 48 hours."

"Exactly." I grinned roguishly, leaning forward again. "That amount of restraint is like a new high score for me. Trouble just seems to follow me wherever I go."

It was her turn to giggle now, and I noticed that the tense nervousness that had been building within the petite woman was starting to dwindle and abate with every second. Calming her down hadn't exactly been my main prerogative, but I wasn't one to be upset at making a nice girl laugh.

"Somehow I can do nothing but believe you." Parian replied lightly, her mask's frowning lips covered politely by her gloved hand. She watched me with conflicting curiosity, as one would a particularly interesting predator that they were fairly certain was harmless. "… Avalon, before we continue, could I ask you a question? If it isn't too forward of me."

That piqued my attention. I paused, studying her masked face for a moment, but there wasn't much that I could gather based purely off of her body language. She was still cautious and primly sat, but that hadn't exactly changed since I arrived at the table. The curiosity in her eyes was enough to go off of, but I didn't dig too deeply with Hidden Intuition just yet. I doubted Parian meant any harm.

"I would say 'you already asked one', but I feel like you're gonna hit me with something deep… so go for it." I sat my new mask down on the table and steepled my fingers together, resting my chin on them.

Parian smiled. "Thank you. Feel free to not answer, but I just wanted to know;… What, exactly, drives you to be an independent hero?" Her parfait had been abandoned minutes ago, but - perhaps for comfort - the rogue began stirring its melted remains with her plastic spoon as she watched me. "I know it has to be scary, running towards danger alone and risking your life to fight against crime. I-It's scary to just think about…"

I let out a low breath - more of a grunted 'oof' - as I absorbed her quiet inquiry. The answer came to me instinctively as I mulled it over, and although I wasn't sure if it was the one she wanted, I had no interest in lying about my beliefs. "Damn, Parian - from fashion designer to philosopher. You're a modern-day renaissance woman."

Her wide, searching gaze didn't leave mine. "I enjoy a little introspection occasionally," she replied quietly, a hesitant smile in her voice, "It helps with keeping the mind and heart light and focused. Small victories that you can win in your own head."

I smiled, but it was a slight one. "Great, then you already have an idea of what drives me."

Parian frowned. "I… don't understand."

"Victory. Winning."

"I know what victory is, Avalon," Parian shifted in her chair, the only outward hint that she was getting frustrated. "But that word alone does not explain anything."

My right hand came down to the cold surface of the table. The slow, rhythmic 'tap' of my index finger against hard plastic filled the air around us. "I don't like losing," I began, moving my gaze up to meet hers, "And that's something I've discovered about myself ever since I was a bratty lil' kid. Losing in sports or video games made me vengeful, and I could carry a grudge for miles." A bit of self-degradation tinted my words, but it was light.

Parian slowly nodded, her spine ramrod straight as she paid full attention to me and my words.

"But I've matured since then, and sports ain't really my thing anymore - survival is. If you decide to stand up and fight, there's a chance you can lose. No one is infallible. The thing is, though… if you choose to be weak and don't fight at all, you've already lost - and there's no getting back up and trying again. I choose to do what I do because I'm a sore fucking loser, and fighting back is the only option for a guy like me. Sure, saving lives and being a hero feels nice on the backswing, but ultimately I just wanna keep me and my loved ones safe… and it just so happens that criminals and villains are the only ones challenging that right now."

My finger stopped tapping.

I leaned back and inhaled, refilling my lungs after the avalanche of words that got expelled from my mouth. It felt… nice, to speak a bit passionately for a minute. A lot of my emotions were often fairly dulled compared to most neurotypical people. Excitement and passion, along with anger and love, were the ones I tended to feel the most, so things tended to get a bit explosive when one of 'em were stimulated enough to warrant something like a full fucking speech.

Parian watched me in silence. Her hands were, once again, placed primly on her lap, and her head was still tilted a bit as she stared. Her eyes, normally so expressive and clear, were like two dark, mysterious black pools. 'Heh, I guess she does have a poker face.'

I let the silence linger on. It was only after a full sixty seconds did she sigh, lean forward, and push the garment bag towards me. It almost fell fully into my lap, and I lurched forward to catch it before it could.

"The hell-"

"There's a bathroom over there," Parian interrupted me, nodding her head towards a nearby pair of doors stenciled with blue and pink gender signs. "I didn't have your exact measurements, so I just want to make sure everything fits properly." Her voice was noticeably more warm than it was before.

I arched an eyebrow, but didn't take my hands off of the black bundle. "… Yeah, I can do that, but you sure you want me to wear it before we talk prices?"

She blinked, as if the very important topic had completely left mind. "Oh, right! Um, how does 1000$, even, sound to you?"

It was my turn to blink waspishly. "I offered you two grand yesterday."

"You did… but that was before." Parian shrugged.

"Wha- Before what?"

"That's personal," she simpered, picking up her plastic parfait cup and standing. "I'll text you my PayLink later. As long as you agree to stick by your word and continue 'fighting', I don't mind lowering the price. Does that sound agreeable?"

I opened and closed my mouth, hesitating in the face of her sudden generosity. It was obvious, even without my Thinker abilities, that my words touched the woman's heart in some way, but it wasn't like I was hurting for money and I doubted that Parian was flush with cash considering the fact that she was both in college and jumping between jobs. Still, I had a feeling that pushing the issue would only serve to offend or incense whatever was bubbling in her spirit, so I opted to simply bite my tongue and stand as well.

"Fine," I smirked, tossing the garment bag over my left shoulder and gripping my new mask firmly with my right hand. "I try not to say no to pretty ladies."

"W-what?" Parian flinched, startled by the compliment. She quickly reached up to check for the state of her mask, and let out a very audible sigh of relief when her gloved hands met porcelain. The glare she threw at me was flat, and her voice finally hinted at some form of childish petulance. "You don't even know if I'm pretty!"

"Trust me, I have good instincts." I turned and began making my way towards the bathroom, a light feeling coursing through my heart.

I heard her murmur something about 'cocky pretty boys' beneath her breath as I walked away, and that made me snort in amusement. Usually by this point it was child's play for me to notice if a chick found me attractive or not, and while Parian found me attractive, I knew that she didn't find me attractive. Basically, I was 100% certain that she was some flavor of lesbian, and the only reason I kept up the casual flirting was because I knew she appreciated it for the innocent compliments that it was.

She was a bit stuck-up and cautious, but I had to admit… I liked Parian quite a lot. She was cool.

It was with these happy thoughts that I prodded the male's bathroom door open with my foot and swept inside.

A Few Minutes Later…

Sabah Fadel - or, rather, Parian whilst in costume, picked idly at her brand new strawberry cream parfait while looking through her design sketchbook. The treat was pretty cheap despite their quality, and the old woman at the Moriarty Sweets' kiosk was nice enough to add an entire strawberry to the top of the whip cream this time.

Honestly, things couldn't have been any better at the moment.

Sure, the reality of life was that she was still knee-deep in student loan debt racking up to numbers that she genuinely did not want to think about. The debt was even worse, considering she had to apply for completely different courses in order to stay on track with her new Fashion Design major. Add in depression, a lack of general direction and motivation, and the fact that she was veritably alone with no real friends except a messy female dorm-mate that believed in weekly showers, and it was no wonder that the one highlight of her month so far was meeting and actually creating something beautiful for a new cape.

It wasn't just any new cape, either. Avalon was… different, this Parian knew. She was also hoping he was different, but she didn't feel embarrassed about that hope when the boy - no, the young man himself just seemed so… larger than life. Handsome and statuesque, dominant and commanding without coming off as corny or tryhard, and remarkably easy to talk to.

Even more important than all of that, however, was his drive. His reason for being a hero. She considered herself someone fairly good at judging character, and not once did he hesitate, stutter, or even blink while describing his desire to survive and win in spite of all odds. Maybe a bit selfish of a guiding force, but it was all in the name of protecting himself and his precious people… so how could she judge that negatively? Truthfully, she couldn't, and neither did she want to.

Parian wasn't one to fangirl over male heroes, but maaaybe she could for this one. Just a little. Professionally, of course, as his costume designer. Who was more justified for supporting and only slightly fangirling than the one who designed and created his entire image? No one, that's who, and she'd turn her nose up at anyone who said differently! Avalon had introduced so many interesting and inspirational ideas that she'd never thought to look into before, and creating his 'Cloth of Authority' had been but one idea that resulted from their in-depth dialogue about RPGs.

She could practically feel her powers buzzing across skin, yearning to take control of needles and thread, leather and bone. That was something their discussion had inspired in her as well - leatherworking. She'd never really bothered with the hardy material before, but it had worked out especially well with forming Avalon's boots. What if, during her next project, she tried to use more animal byproducts as materials, like-

SCREEEECH!

The sound of a metal chair being dragged slowly, and roughly, across the floor abruptly pulled Parian out of her thoughts. Her heart leaped in her chest at the loud noise, and she whipped her head up so fast that something in her neck pulled taut in protest.

A metal wolf mask, one that she absently recognized as shoddily and unprofessionally forged, was the first thing she saw. Greasy blonde hair spilling over broad, hairy shoulders was the next thing her eyes took in, and it was only the very real and mind-numbing fear that kept her from continuing her gaze downwards and taking in the rest of the man's appearance.

Parian froze, body straight and head fixed forward, as Hookwolf sat down in the seat Avalon had previously been occupying. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, and she felt for the telekinetic hold that was keeping Teddy standing upright behind her. If she could just get it between her and-

"Stop that." Hookwolf's voice was like gravel crushing each other into dust, and Parian was angry at herself for instinctively, fearfully, following his order. A grin in his voice, the blonde man leaned forward and rested his muscular and hairy arms on the wooden table.

It groaned in protest.

"We've been hopin' to talk to you again, Parian," he began slowly, as if he was choosing his words with care. She knew that it was all for show - just how it was the last time. "You've sat on the fence about joining our cause, laying low and staying small-time. Boss man is getting impatient, though… you work in our territory, you either pay your due with cash or service."

Fear forced back the retort she wanted to lay into him with. She wanted to say a lot of things, but he had her dead to rights. In her peripheral vision, she could see the other tables nearby being sat in by other white goons - a show of force, and an intimidation tactic. There had to be at least four other men, leering fearlessly at her. She could see no other civilians around. More important, however, was the fact that Avalon still hadn't come back yet.

She wasn't even sure if she wanted him to.

Hookwolf was not your run of the mill criminal lackey, and it was honestly her fault for even making a public appearance outside of the protected territory of the Boardwalk. She had just been so happy and excited about what she'd created, and optimism had convinced her to give it a try in the hopes that her appearance at the mall would bring in more customers and attention online. It wasn't as if the Empire snapped at her heels every time she made an appearance Downtown. The last time was a month ago after one of her commissioned fashion shows, and she had even managed to hold Victor off until the Protectorate came to take over.

What were the odds of them doing it again on this day of all days? Apparently high.

"I don't make nearly enough money to pay the Empire every month." Parian bit out quietly through gritted teeth. They didn't even want her money anyway - not really. Five thousand a month for 'permission' to be a rogue Downtown was complete and utter bullshit, and they all knew it. "And I… I d-don't want to work with you. Any of you."

"Ah," Hookwolf grunted, leaning back and folding his hands over his hairy abs. "That's too bad, Parian… 'Cause rumor has it you've been brushing shoulders with a really unsavory sort. A fucking nigger. How are you gonna work with that and not us?"

And there was that word. Parian flinched as if struck, her large, dark eyes narrowing in hatred and disgust. What would he do, she wondered, if he knew that he was talking to a Middle-Eastern woman who'd only learned how to speak English a scant few years ago? Absolutely nothing good, and that was one of many different reasons why she'd always refuse to do anything for them. The Empire was filled with nothing but scum, through and through.

"Avalon is more human and man than you could ever be…" Parian whispered. She could see the goons around their table bristle at her words, muttering, but Hookwolf raised a hand and they immediately quietened.

Laughter was audible in his voice as he let the veneer of civility finally fade. "Avalon, huh? The spook's not worthy of that name, and I'll prove why. Maybe seeing some dirt blood spilled at your feet'll make you wise up!" Abruptly, he slammed his fist on the table, breaking it into two with a spray of broken wooden shards and splinters. Both her notebook and parfait, barely eaten, went flying through the air.

Not even a second later, Hookwolf's guttural voice ripped through the air. "Cricket, bring the mutt out! Don't have too much fun without me!" He was a charismatic speaker, despite his unsavory appearance, and his words seemed to echo grandly through the empty food court.

Parian's hopes, already miraculously low, sank even further at the mention of Cricket. She looked back, hoping to use Hookwolf's roar as a distraction to do something, anything, but the sound of a gun being racked put that thought to bed immediately. She froze, biting her lip and hating herself for being a coward. For not fighting.

Moments passed in silence, and Parian blinked, confused. She looked up at Hookwolf, who had jumped to his feet in the middle of his announcement. The large nazi seemed wary, glowering at the distant bathroom doors. Vaguely, if she strained her ears, Parian could hear what sounded like fighting happening from within.

"David!" Hookwolf suddenly snapped, turning to one of the thugs. The man, broadly-built and wearing a black and red bandana, snapped to rigid attention.

"Yes sir!"

"Take the others and go check on Cricket. Make it fast."

Parian watched as all four Empire Eighty-Eight goons stood from their tables, grabbing at pistols and knives, before jogging towards that foreboding bathroom door. Before she could even think of taking advantage of her newfound freedom, Hookwolf turned around and glowered at her. His left hand pointed directly at Teddy, and she could see the tips of his fingers begin to unravel, skin pulling away and revealing layers of thin, razor-sharp rings of steel.

"I guess I'm gonna have to take your toys away for you to behave-"

vrrrr… BOOM !

It happened in an instant.

The unnatural hum of some sort of alien monster or machine reverberated through the food court, muffled yet loud, right before a massive explosion rocked what felt like the very foundation of the mall. Napkin dispensers fell to the ground, goosebumps covered Parian's arms, and both the bathroom door and the wall surrounding it was suddenly blasted open by a bright yellow beam of energy that was as wide as it was tall. A lithe, smoking body ragdolled through the air, bodily launched by the sudden laser beam that faded almost as fast as it appeared.

Cricket skidded across the ground like a skipping stone, coming to a sliding halt right in front of Hookwolf.

Parian dove for cover behind Teddy, instincts battling with fear and winning handedly.

"What the fuck?!" Hookwolf growled, carefully stepping over Cricket's smoldering and unconscious body and clenching his fists. Metal whirred beneath his skin, breaking through flesh and sparking against one another in a hissing cacophony of hooks and blades. He wasn't fully transforming just yet, but his arms were starting to look like wickedly dangerous blenders. When he spoke again, his voice was even more harsh than before. "Show yourself, coward!"

The goons hesitated, halfway across the food court. The two with firearms got cover behind a booth, and the ones with knives slowly advanced.

Dust, thick and cloying, covered the wrecked bathroom from view. As the seconds passed, a tall shape slowly became visible in the mess, casually walking forward - and pistol shots barked out loudly as the thugs lit the figure up.

Parian blanched. She recognized the silhouette, and though she hadn't expected such a destructive attack from Avalon, she was too scared to do anything. She knew she was no match for Hookwolf, but neither did she want to just sit back or run away while her client and friend was attacked. Fearful, yet girding said fear with dog headed stubbornness, the seamstress began modifying her Teddy as quietly as possible.

"Bringing guns to a cape fight isn't very 'honorable', Hookwolf…" A deep, rich voice drifted from the dust cloud.

Two long golden spears, luminescent and fast, shot from the dust like bullets. The goons holding pistols had no time to even think to dodge. One second they were aiming down sights after firing a hail of lead, and the next they were lying flat on their backs, the spears embedded shaft-deep into their skulls. Whether or not they were still alive was anyone's guess.

The abruptness of the attack made the other two goons freeze, and a fraction of a second later they were treated to the exact same thing - except, this time, the spears were aimed at their chest.

Hookwolf, in his defense, didn't even flinch at the almost systematic dismantling of his unpowered goons. His pale blue eyes were almost lethal in their intensity as he took another step forward.

"You speak of honor, but hide behind lasers and energy blasts like every other cowardly blaster. If you want an 'honorable fight', mutt, then fucking bring it to me!"

As if scared away by the nazi's roar, the remnants of dust and smoke faded away, revealing the resplendent and otherworldly appearance of Avalon. The young man stood calmly, a ten foot long and ornery spear held comfortably and casually over his right shoulder, while what appeared to be a large, grinning goat skull with glowing golden eyes floated at his left. His new costume seemed to shine with radiant light, as if the sun itself fashioned him a cloak from its rays.

Bullets floated gently along the cloak's shimmering lapels.

Before their very eyes, the bright, glimmering cloak faded away into nothingness, causing the bullets to clatter to the debris-strewn floor.

"Parian, are you safe?" Avalon suddenly spoke, his smooth voice filling the air in a way that Hookwolf could never even hope to match.

She swallowed thickly, sweating as she looped another coarse thread through her creation's bulky arms. Teddy was now a taller, more brawlic patchwork gorilla, made to restrain, grapple, and clobber more so than to defend and carry supplies.

"I-I'm alright!" Parian called out, flinching when Hookwolf turned to glare at her. She didn't cower, though, and that was what made all the difference in her heart. She slowly backed away, letting her power flood through her newest creation and be the bulwark between her and the dangerous, murderous nazi. The gorilla silently beat its chest, huffing without lungs and pacing the small distance between her and Hookwolf.

Avalon smiled. It wasn't a kind one. "Good, stay back. I'd hate to taint my first cape battle by slaughtering a bunch of punk nazi trash." His nose wrinkled in disgust, and he spat to the side.

Hookwolf snarled.

The sound of metal grinding against metal grated loudly as the nazi sprinted forward, shiny steel jutting from his skin and pushing his human flesh deep within. The transformation only took a couple seconds, and in that brief time he had already cleared half the distance between him and Avalon. The rest of the distance was eaten almost instantly when his wolf-like body, now on all fours and dwarfing even the kiosks in the food court, lunged directly at Avalon's squishy body with all of the strength and lethality of a 15 foot tall, metal-coated wolf.

He slammed into the ground with force, tearing deep grooves through the reinforced concrete floor. His steel jaws snapped forward to bite through flesh and bone, to rend and tear…

But Avalon was no longer there. Music began playing, seemingly from out of thin air.

Hookwolf growled as he turned around, beady blue eyes scouring for its prey, only to throw his entire body to the side as a golden spear - nearly as long as he was tall - almost skewered him straight through the 'temple'.

Avalon was standing in the middle of the food court between him and Parian, his eyes glaring and cold as he stared. His lips were moving, but Hookwolf couldn't hear a word with the music growing louder and more frantic as the seconds ticked by. All he could do was attack, and attack he did - his mouth opened wide, showcasing constantly extending and twisting blades and spires of metal as he flung himself towards the young hero.

Avalon's mouth stopped moving, his free left hand pointed directly at him, and suddenly Hookwolf staggered midstep, because something felt wrong.

His body felt wrong.

And as he lashed out with his claw, extending the metal by a full three feet in order to catch the hero off guard and cut him in twain, Hookwolf realized what that wrong feeling was. His metal - it was becoming brittle and weak. Sickly. Avalon pirouetted backwards like some sort of dancer, swinging his beautiful spear in a whirlwind slash that looked like it belonged in a damned textbook, and Hookwolf watched as the browning steel of his claws was broken in half by the massive weapon.

Not cut or cleaved, but broken, like a rusted piece of scrap.

"What did you do?!" Hookwolf roared, powering through the loss and forcing more metal out of his core. He directed it through his 'neck' this time, swinging his head like a scythe as the sharp metal moved to decapitate the agile Avalon, but the hero blocked it with the shaft of his spear and punched through the steel hook.

It broke off and fell to the ground, brittle and flaky. Avalon rolled backwards to dodge the next lashing of metal, bouncing back up and then just appearing ten feet away from his previous position. Teleportation.

"… Viagra can help with performance issues, y'know."

The silently grinning goat skull hovering at Avalon's side opened its mouth wide and flew up into the air, twirling around Hookwolf's massive head like a particularly annoying gnat.

Hookwolf only had a split moment to decide between facing the skull that showed Blaster abilities and keeping his attention on Avalon, who seemed to have a power that was eroding and countering his own metal. One second was all it took for him to make an executive decision. He swung back around, redoubling his efforts to slaughter the frustrating and mysterious new hero.

As if laughing at him, a familiar and unwelcoming sound screamed from behind, in the direction he'd last seen the skull fly.

Pounds upon pounds of weakened metal burned and broke beneath blinding golden light, and Hookwolf howled his frustrations, a shrill noise that sounded like daggers scraping through bone.

All the while, Avalon danced backwards, always just out of reach with his nimble footwork and teleporting powers.

The music in the background made the humiliating battle even more infuriating. Hookwolf had to admit to himself, as he began to tire out from constantly recycling his metal…

'This fight just isn't fucking worth it.'

But then his gaze fell on Parian and her gorilla, both of whom had been watching from the sidelines in awe, and a rough plan began forming in his head.

Spoiler: Perks Received

Spoiler: Roll One (Declined)

Dream Stone (Mermaid Melody Pichi Pichi Pitch - 300 CP): An orange, oddly shaped, glass-like crystal. Whenever you sleep with the stone next to your pillow, the crystal enchants your dreams with premonitions. The dreams can range from direct visions of looming events to very vague and strange sequences; for instance, if you dreamt that a friend of yours appeared as the "lady of the lake" and gave you an autographed pair of sneakers, said friend the next day will turn up and give you that very thing. Other times, you might see exactly what is going to happen soon. The stone does not so much make the dreams come true, but rather foretells things destined to occur. However, the dreams can be difficult to predict, and in context may not be what you expected.

Spoiler: Roll Two

Gaster Blaster (Undertale - 400 CP): This device, run on the user's own magical power, is a semi-autonomous magical weapon. Resembling a floating goat's skull with glowing eyes, the Gaster Blaster is an extremely powerful magic device capable of shooting very powerful magical lasers of variable width. While it's very draining to use and are only effective at close range, being unable to operate beyond 10 meters of the user, the versatility and maneuverability of this weapon is unmatched in the Underground.

Spoiler: Roll Three (Not Enough CP)

Monster Chef (Undertale - 400 CP): Monster food isn't the same thing as Human food. In fact, most monsters have never even tasted human food- And that's because Monster food is so much more efficient! Being made of magic, Monster food digests instantly to energize the consumer, never spoils, and creates no waste (As a result, most monsters don't even know what a bathroom is). Monster food can also be created with just about anything edible, though the better it tastes, the more energy it gives to the consumer. Creating it takes a bit more energy, but it's definitely worth the work!

250 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

A lot happens in this chapter - be sure to absorb it all and give me your thoughts! For those wondering about the spell he used on Hookwolf, it was Plague of Rust. He used Shimmering Cloak earlier to shield himself from bullets. I'll probably flashback to his little Cricket fight in the next chapter. Spoiler alert - he could not hang with her in such closer quarters at all, and the Gaster Blaster really saved his ass. You can't dodge a laser beam as big as the room you're dodging in.

Chapter 18

Cape fights were a lot different in real time than anything you could ever read online, either in my previous world or PHO. Time moved infinitely slower in the moment, but in reality - only a minute had gone by since we'd started our lethal dance. Maybe it was because of Megalovania blaring in the background like my very own theme music, but at some point I'd started moving with the beat, bobbing and weaving as I slowly whittled Hookwolf down with strong slashes and stabs from my Armament. He was growing much slower as Chamon flaked at and corroded his metal, forcing him to constantly recycle and regenerate the brittle steel almost as fast as he was utilizing it.

I could see his core, too - or, at the very least, my Hidden Intuition felt as if it knew where it laid within the mass of writhing blades and hooks. It glowed a frigid and icy blue to my eyes, visible even through the nazi's rampaging steel body, and I kept his core in sight even as I dogwalked him down to his last panting breaths. My mana pool was still going strong in spite of the two Gaster Blaster beams I'd let off before, and I felt like I had another three or so in me before my tank ran out and I had to rely entirely on the Aethyr.

In other words? I was outlasting Hookwolf.

Quite honestly, I was one of the worst matchups for him with my adept familiarity of the eight Winds. His power was immense to your standard, run of the mill cape, but to a man who controlled raw, unfettered magic unleashed from the Realms of Chaos? It was like beating down a particularly rabid and durable animal. My blood sang every time I dodged death by a hair's breadth, my soul crooned as I broke apart his crumbling metal armor, and my spirit grew. The grip on my spear tightened, my movements becoming quicker, more natural, more effortless.

All the while, I kept my attention focused solely on the oversized dog, watching and waiting for any type of shift.

It was due to this constant vigilance that, as I teleported up ten feet and over yet another clumsy lunge, spring boarding off of the rusty, snarling steel that acted as Hookwolf's maw, I noticed something change in the tempo of the battle. It was minor, almost imperceptible for someone that lacked a certain situational awareness, but it was there. His blue eyes darted to the right, away from me and my Blaster, and the crumbling metal that acted as his legs seemed to shudder and hiss as he suddenly put on a burst of speed.

The loud, grinding screech of steel breaking and scratching against concrete tore through the air as Hookwolf surged towards Parian in a mad scramble, flecks and chunks of eroding steel flying off of his crumbling body. A wordless, frustrated warcry rang from the manbeast's metallic throat as he blitzed the wide-eyed woman.

My heart skipped a beat, and real, pounding anger forced my blood to a boil. I was still roughly fifteen feet in the air at the apex of my jump, and in a fraction of a second my brain ran through at least five different actions that I could perform to protect my newest friend. The bad thing about knowing so many useful spells was that I had almost too many options, and there wasn't a guarantee that any one of them would work.

As I began to fall, a certain spell flew to the front of my mind and I came to a snap decision, immediately chanting as fast as my lips could manage. Chamon, a heavy and dense Wind that rose from the rust-strewn floor like a thick fog, lurched forward at my ancient words, a mass of amber magic that only I could sense.

In its defense, the patchwork gorilla that Parian refurbished her Teddy into let out its own challenging squeak, sprinting forward on its large and unwieldy knuckles to meet the much larger metallic wolf head-on. Parian stood behind Moriarty Parfait's abandoned kiosk, body shaking in the face of danger but refusing to back down.

Cotton and linen immediately exploded through the air like a confetti, Hookwolf goring through its body like a rusted greatsword through a water balloon. The stuffed animal didn't stop his momentum in any way, and Parian didn't even have time to blink, let alone react.

At one moment, the corroded man-beast was pulling away from me and scrambling through food court seats and tables to attack Parian. At the next, the gory remains of an oversized stuffed monkey was littering the floor and a freshly generated, razor-sharp steel spear was blasting from Hookwolf's roaring mouth, extending out like a lethal metal tongue and heading straight for Parian's porcelain white mask.

She wouldn't have survived the attack. Maybe he was getting desperate, and that mad dash was his attempt to gain leverage in the fight. Maybe he hadn't actually been aiming to skewer her through the face, and his goal was to stop the steel an inch away from her mask, all dramatic and villainous-like. Whatever his original intent was, it wasn't allowed to come to pass…

"-lak Xamön'oy!"

Because suddenly, with the roar of concrete splintering into dust and brittle steel snapping like thin twigs, ornate golden bars sprouted from the floor like gnarled roots from the most ostentatious of trees, twisting around Hookwolf's body and forcing him away from the kiosk lest they pierce his weakened frame. He slammed his bladed snout against the bars, practically frothing in rage, but the brittle steel easily snapped when thrown against the glimmering gold metal. The bars surged unerringly upwards, forming a large, circular cage that skimmed even the 30 foot tall ceiling of the food court.

Ironically enough, it looked reminiscent of a gilded birdcage.

"FUCK! N O! LET M E OU-"

Wind screamed as my Sole Protector-powered spear careened through the air with a loud crack, shimmering an effervescent gold beneath the mall's fluorescent lights. My eyes, burning with both hatred and disgust, made sure that the magical Armament flew true - between the bars of the Gilded Cage, and directly towards the trapped wolf's glowing blue core. Hookwolf was out of moxy now, that much was obvious, and although the Plague of Rust had faded away, he didn't have much energy left over to replace his existing browned, corroded metal. As a result, the glimmering spear tore through the nazi's body like a bullet through wet toilet paper.

As I walked forward, I could see the exact moment, the exact instant when he realized where the spear was going. He only had time to widen his eyes and twitch before the massive Armament skewered that glowing blue spot, wrenching all the way through his body and coming out the other side. As if on cue, the background music went quiet.

Rusted blades and hooks, chipped and corroded, fell to the ground in droves. They slipped through the gaps in the cage, clattering to the concrete floor. Lying in the mass of metal, impaled clean through the gut by the ten foot long spear, was Hookwolf, greasy-haired and humanoid once again. Blood gushed from beneath his metal mask, and even more poured from the wound in his hairy stomach. He was grasping weakly at the shaft of the weapon, but his hands couldn't grip it strong enough to gain any actual leverage.

Choked, bloodied curses spilled loudly from his lips. And slurs - can't forget the slurs.

"Parian," I said quietly, not turning my gaze away from the trapped and dying nazi. "Go check on Cricket, make sure she's still unconscious. Tie her up too while you're at it." My voice was low and monotonous, but there was an undercurrent of steel there that brokered no arguments.

"A-alright. Okay. I can do that… " She stepped away from the kiosk, shooting the cursing Hookwolf a wide-eyed glance, before staggering towards the downed form of Cricket. The tattered remains of her stuffed animal floated after her, forming intricate knots in the air as it did.

Hookwolf groaned again, before spitting out a globule of blood and glaring at me. "Fuck! Damn it… y'know you're not g-getting a fucking hero's reward for doing me in, right? Stupid nigg-"

"Sinaö," I hissed, commanding the Winds of Ulgu to heed my will and silence the nazi before my patience snapped and I executed him in front of a dozen CCTV cameras. I didn't chant for a spell that I actually knew, and no spell utilized only one word from lingua praestantia, but apparently my understanding of the Winds was enough to create something. Hookwolf's voice abruptly petered out, and he could only flinch and make wheezing noises as I leaned against the gilded bars of his new cage.

"Good bitch."

He went still, glaring at me with murder in his eyes. Even that emotion was weakening from blood loss.

I smiled thinly, and my voice lowered to an almost inaudible whisper - too quiet for any cameras to potentially pick up. "We have maybe two minutes before the Protectorate bursts in here to 'take control of the situation'. That's two minutes of healing so that you get a nice, clean trip to the Bird Cage."

He tried to mumble something, but another dribble of blood was all that came out. Clicking my tongue, I reached between the golden bars and grabbed the shaft of my Armament. I could have simply dematerialized it like almost every other magical effect in my repertoire, but…

I yanked the spear out with a sickening squelch, and Hookwolf's body seized and flexed, every muscle pulling taut as he attempted to roar his pain out to the world - keyword being attempted. A spurt of blood and maybe something more meaty came out alongside the wicked head of my weapon, but I paid it no heed - I wasn't one to enjoy gore for the sake of gore. I didn't take pleasure in seeing the effects of my 'assistance'… I just took pleasure in the fact that a racist, lynching piece of nazi trash was experiencing agony.

And when I called upon Aqshy, the Wind further emblazoned by my own enjoyment and passion, I was able to witness even more pain as Sear Wounds slowly and methodically cauterized and healed the bloody hole in Hookwolf's gut. Maybe I smiled a little bit, maybe I didn't.

Regardless, though… karma was truly a bitch.

Hookwolf lasted maybe thirty seconds getting 'healed' by me before his silent screams lulled him into a peaceful slumber. Parian, having tied the unconscious Cricket and the four nazi goons up with supernaturally tough cloth coiled into rope, tentatively approached me not long after Hookwolf tapped out. I raised my hand in greeting - my mood was significantly better after tortu- healing the greasy haired wolf man, and a little smirk rested on my face as I watched her approach me.

She stopped a couple feet away, and… bowed. At the waist. I blinked.

"Thank you so much for protecting my life, Avalon! I'm sorry I didn't help more… I was w-weak."

Her words were rushed and unsure, a far cry from the composed persona I'd started to see the woman as. My first instinct was to snark it off with my usual flirtatious nonchalance, because I truly was not the best with emotionally traumatized women, but something stopped me. I could see the way that her legs were shaking. Her blonde wig was askew, just enough to where I could see dark brown hair beginning to poke out from the back. She was completely thrown off her game. Thinking about it, that was probably the closest she'd ever been to dying.

Right. People actually freaked the fuck out when it came to shit like that. Now my mood was ruined again… fucking nazis, man.

"You were scared," I said gently. She flinched violently when I pushed off of the cage, but didn't move up from her bow.

"I was weak. You said that if you don't fight-"

"Stop that." I stopped right in front of the bowing woman and placed my hand on her chin, the golden claw of my gauntlets scratching a thin line against her porcelain mask. Parian didn't seem to mind, though, as I brought her face up to meet mine, straightening her out of her bow. Dark pools of ebony stared unblinkingly into my own eyes, and I tried a smile. It came out crooked.

"You had the chance to run, and you decided to stay. It was stupid, but what hero isn't just a little bit stupid? Definitely not me. All that matters is you looked death straight in the face and survived. That's not weakness, that's streng- oof."

I was cut off by the gut-punching sensation of Parian slamming her face into my abs and hugging the fuck out of me. The fact that two very attractive, emotionally-charged women have hugged me over the course of 24 hours was insane, but I pushed away that thought in favor of stroking her fake Goldilocks hair. She wouldn't really feel it, but it was the thought that counts, right?

"Regardless, thank you." Parian murmured, pulling back and straightening her mask. I saw a glimpse of her face - smooth, dark brown skin and plump, full lips - before she had it covered back up. She knew I saw it, too, but her eyes stayed resolute and grateful as she stepped a respectable distance away. She definitely knew that I knew that she knew, and that… excited me a bit - at least until I remembered that she was a lesbian.

The sound of boots moving quickly over concrete had me straightening my back. The sound was echoing from what sounded like the back entrance of the mall, and judging by the tempo it had to be at least a full squad of soldiers. Not surprising, considering the news they probably received - Hookwolf, Cricket, and a team of nazi thugs seen just strolling into the Hillside Mall, right before civilians fled en masse and gunshots rang out through the building? I was more surprised that it took them so long to show up. The entire fight lasted a few minutes, and then I healed Hookwolf and had a little heart to heart with the pretty lesbian in the doll mask. Overall, their response time to what was a very public and violent cape attack left a lot to be desired.

Or maybe I was just being too harsh on them. It wasn't like I knew what the usual response time was for shit like this.

"Heads up," I said to Parian, stabbing my Armament into the concrete and leaning against it boredly. "Peanut gallery's gonna be here soon."

The woman blinked. "Oh? Ohhh… the PRT." She watched me closely. "Do you not like them?"

"Meh, they're like the garbage man. I'm cool with 'em taking out my trash."

She gave no further response, opting to simply nod her head in silent understanding, and together we waited for the footsteps to draw closer.

It didn't take long - within moments, an armored man with a goatee and a fit woman wearing military fatigues turned the corner into the food court, respective weapons held at the ready. The man held a sleek-looking halberd in both hands, gripping the cobalt-blue weapon tightly, and the woman was holding what appeared to be a glowing green assault carbine.

I put names to costumes immediately.

"Ah, Miss Militia…" And judging by the awed whisper beside me, apparently Parian did too.

They took a brief moment to analyze the situation for themselves, attention lingering a few seconds longer on Hookwolf and the golden, blood-splattered cage he was trapped inside. A full squad of six PRT troopers fanned out around them, holding what looked like flamethrowers up to their shoulders. Judging by the lack of surprise in their body language, I had a feeling that they'd already known that Hookwolf and Cricket were incapacitated. Most likely information remotely pulled from the cameras.

Armsmaster, ever the courageous leader, immediately approached me after a quiet command to the PRT soldiers. I watched them cautiously approach the tied up nazis, before the bearded hero's voice brought my attention back to him. Miss Militia, meanwhile, skirted around the side to examine the Gilded Cage more closely. I saw no reason to stop her - Hookwolf getting captured and sent to the actual cage was all part of the plan, after all.

"You were brave, fighting Hookwolf and Cricket alone, though I doubt they left you much choice." It was more of a statement than it was a compliment, and in spite of him speaking to the both of us it was obvious who he was directing it to. I couldn't see his eyes from beneath his visor, but I just knew that he was staring straight into my soul.

Parian merely looked over to me, still leaning back against my oversized spear. I shrugged like it was no big deal, a small smile pulling at my lips. "What can I say? When you give me a big stick and a bunch of racist assholes, I tend to clean house. Call it karmic justice."

Armsmaster tilted his head, looking past me and at the massive, gaping hole that used to be the entrance to the men's bathroom. His voice was dry when he responded, but there was a note of dry humor there. Surprising, considering the way many people tried to frame him on the wrong side of autistic. "That looks like you used a lot more than a 'big stick'. We've been granted emergency access to the CCTV footage in the mall, and although I was more preoccupied with getting here in time to assist-"

I interrupted him, not necessarily to be a dick but because I already had a feeling where the conversation was going. "A little birdie in your ear piece whispered all of my little tricks in gratuitous detail, right?"

Armsmaster paused, and I figured he was listening to someone's voice in his earpiece, probably coaching him through the best way to handle a snarky new player like me. The pause was only for a split second, however, as he continued like he'd never missed a beat. "Correct. We know of Parian, as she is a recognized Rogue, albeit still unregistered with the PRT…" At this, he trailed off and gave her what I could only assume was a disappointed look.

Parian actually had the gall to look reprimanded, glancing down at her shoes. "I'm… going to go over there." She pointed at one of the benches that managed to actually survive the battle, and promptly walked away. The intense atmosphere was clearly a lot for her to breathe in.

Armsmaster ignored her exit. "But we have nothing in our files pertaining to you, a new and apparently powerful cape."

The unasked question lingered in the air, and I allowed it to simmer for a moment longer. I wasn't really one for dramatics, but there was something about being actually fucking magical that was starting to bring it out of me. If I, a motherfucking wizard, couldn't have a dramatic and mystifying flair, who the fuck could?

"… Avalon," I eventually responded, cutting my eyes to the Gilded Cage that Miss Militia was still inspecting. "The Tarnished Hero."

Distantly, as if it came from outside, the sound of thunder striking in the background cut through the comparatively quiet food court, causing one of the PRT soldiers lugging the nazis away to practically jump out of his skin and drop his quarry. The skinhead groaned in pain, rousing from unconsciousness, and the soldier swore quietly and resumed his thankless work.

Armsmaster simply stared at me, bemused. "The chances for rain today was at an all time low, and there's no humidity. It's definitely not storming outside. Did you create that noise?"

I blinked innocently. Hidden Intuition was highlighting his visor a blaring red, practically screaming to me that he would definitely recognize the fact that I was lying if I lied to him. That didn't change anything. "No."

Another pause, and he frowned. "You're lying."

"I am," I agreed easily, pushing off of my Armament and willing it to fade away in a dissipating show of fading golden light. "Now let's get to the important stuff. Hookwolf," I turned and gestured to the bloodied and unconscious man, "Is going away permanently, right? To the Bird Cage."

Miss Militia took the opportunity to introduce herself to the conversation. Standing from where she'd been rubbing grains of corroded steel between her fingers, the militaristic woman turned to me and offered her gloved hand. "Miss Militia. It's an honor to meet you, Avalon."

I accepted the handshake, squeezing slightly before letting go. Her warm eyes stared into mine throughout the entire exchange. What was it with these heroes and their intimate eye contact?

"Honor's all mine, truly." And it genuinely was. Say what you wanted about the Protectorate, but Miss Militia was a woman worthy of respect. Getting past the trauma of being a human fucking minesweeper… she was stronger than most. I didn't let that distract me from my question, however.

I eyed Armsmaster.

The man sighed, sheathing his halberd on his back. "That isn't a decision that I'm allowed to make, unfortunately. I doubt they'd change course now though. He's escaped custody en route to the Bird Cage twice already. He assaulted you and Parian in broad daylight, and attempted to maim you both."

Miss Militia spoke up here, the emerald green energy floating between her hands idly shifting into a serrated combat knife that she promptly sheathed. "He's going to the Bird Cage, guaranteed. Though, it could prove a bit difficult with these golden bars in the way." There was a wry amusement in her voice, but also a sternness, too. She wasn't commanding me, but she was definitely implying that I should play ball. I watched her for a moment longer, peeling back a layer and truly analyzing her body language, and my Intuition lit her up like a firing squad.

Miss Militia knows that you are a teenager due to your face and mannerisms, and wants you to become a Ward. She is hoping that you show a willingness to work with the PRT. She feels anxious because she does not want to turn this first meeting into a confrontation. She recognizes you. She is fairly certain that you have killed before. She is fairly certain that you have killed nazis before. She is-

Ohhh. Adrenaline rushed through my veins.

I made absolutely certain to keep my face cool and collected as I dialed my Hidden Intuition back down to its lower settings, dissipating the onrush of information that shot through my brain in a mere fraction of a second. Honestly, I should have expected this - sure, I had a shiny new costume and more abilities, but how many young black men with dreadlocks and magical golden attacks were there in Brockton Bay? Probably not many. Add in 'with a grudge against nazis' and… well, you wouldn't really narrow it down much further, but it was still an extremely low amount.

They wanted to bring me in and detain Hookwolf without causing me to escalate or react in a potentially dangerous manner. By not mentioning the fact that they knew who I was, they were hoping to form a sense of camaraderie and trust. Respectable, and not as heavy-handed as I thought they'd be, but I… simply didn't want to become a Ward. Being forced to go to school, have a curfew, go through training montages with a bunch of boring teenagers? Ugh. I had magic to master, girls to fuck, and nazis to bait into a massacre.

I'd just have to show that I was in control of my powers now and not going on a murder spree. Yet.

"… He's pretty fucked up," I suddenly said, turning to the Gilded Cage and commanding the bars to part. "But he should be stable enough to move… not that anyone would be upset if you dropped the bloodthirsty nazi murderer on his head a couple times."

I had to browbeat the Wind a little since the cage was made to stay for a full day, no more and no less, but Chamon had been easily moldable by my will throughout the entire fight. The golden bars crunched and yawned as they were wrenched wide open, just enough to fit a couple of grown men through.

"Take him to the van and make sure he is secure. Brute and Changer protocols." Armsmaster commanded.

"Yes sir."

One of the two soldiers watching the exit of the food court quickly moved into the cage, boots crunching and breaking over rusted metal scrap as he flipped the unconscious Hookwolf over to his stomach and pulled his wrists behind the small of his back. A pair of odd looking handcuffs - Tinkertech, most likely - were slapped on right before a spray of yellowish containment foam blasted from his… foamthrower and coated the nazi's back. Immediately, the foam expanded to cover both the handcuffs and Hookwolf's arms.

Combined with the Hell I wrought upon his metal… that nazi wasn't breaking free anytime soon.

The second soldier moved forward then, grunting as he helped his teammate pick the two-hundred-plus pounds of racist man meat up and over their shoulders before briskly making their way out of the food court. Efficient, professional, and with minimal communication… they were pretty damn impressive. Still not cool enough to change my stance on joining the PRT, though.

"Thank you, Avalon. You've done this city a great service," Miss Militia said sincerely, causing me to look back over to her. Her and Armsmaster were standing side-by-side now, in a way that subtly hinted at his broad shoulders and manly jawline, while her shapely and athletic form seemed almost action-figure like with the way that she crossed her arms below her chest. She was smiling, this much I could tell from the way that her eyes crinkled at the edges, and I had a niggling feeling…

'Oh great, here comes the fucking Wards pitch… '

"But have you thought of officially registering as an Independent Hero with the PRT? You wouldn't be obligated to work directly with us, but we'd like to be able to assist or call for assistance if need be."

'… What?'

"What?" Armsmaster blinked, dropping his 'subtle hero' pose and staring at Miss Militia. He didn't sound or look upset or angry, just puzzled.

They both suddenly winced, almost in sync, at something coming from their earpieces before Miss Militia pressed her finger to her ear and sighed. "You're both powerful and skilled with your abilities, Avalon - I don't mean to 'kiss ass', but I only want to be straightforward. Do you agree, Armsmaster?"

"… He is," Armsmaster hesitantly agreed, a bemused frown on his face. "A Trump who has grown exponentially since the last time we've heard from him. Detaining Hookwolf alone is not an easy or common feat." There was a begrudging respect in his voice, though it was tempered by caution and warning. The man had all but outright stated that they knew what I'd done, but were pussyfooting around it for now.

Miss Militia nodded her head, looking me straight in the eye. "Be honest with me. If I were to explain to you the very real benefits of becoming a Ward, including but not limited to a fifty thousand dollar trust fund, a guaranteed minimum wage salary doubled upon a full membership, and a team of loyal and trustworthy kids around your age… would you even hesitate before saying no?"

My crooked smirk was answer enough, but I felt she wanted to make a point to a certain Director so I played ball and verbally replied. "I learn more about myself and my abilities every day, and I don't need battle buddies to do that. I've got no interest in joining the Wards. I'm sure they're all very nice, but… I'm not a team player. Ask Hookwolf - I called him mean things."

She couldn't stop herself from snorting. I mentally applauded myself - first my girlfriend, then Parian, and now an actual Protectorate hero? I was on a roll!

"Exactly. You want to stay independent, while fighting the good fight on your own terms, and that's an option like any other. Many young heroes choose the same thing."

Armsmaster clicked his tongue. "It is exceedingly rare for 'many young heroes' to go from throwing a few glowing knives to short-range teleportation, emitting a metal-corroding Shaker effect, and conjuring twenty foot tall metal cages made from gold."

Miss Militia shot him a sharp look, most likely for his rather clumsy reveal of knowing about my shitty first day on Earth Bet. I wasn't really one for pussyfooting either, though, so I waved my hand and put on a deadpan expression.

"In my defense, I had only just gotten my powers." The non-lie came out as smooth as butter. Technically I wasn't bullshitting them - I had just gotten my power earlier that afternoon, and if that didn't shift their gears in the right direction I didn't know what would. The fact that anyone would even dare to blame me for what was effectively me fearing for my life in the midst of a hate crime pissed me off, but these two were just following orders.

The sharpness in Miss Militia's eyes softened considerably, and suddenly I felt a little bad for pulling at her heartstrings. Only a little, though. "… That caused your Trigger?" she asked quietly, uncrossing her arms. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to either touch me or grip her combat knife. Maybe both.

Armsmaster was still watching me, so I opted for a non-answer. They wouldn't push me too hard on this topic anyways, I could tell from their expressions. Even goat chin was starting to become uncomfortable.

"Huh. While you were watching my traumatic ordeal on your flatscreen monitors, did either of you ever come to the realization that they were getting ready to fuckin' lynch me?" A note of genuine anger sparked through my throat, surprising even me, and I quickly reined it in before it colored my decision-making. My voice turned cold. "Forgive me if my control was a little bit off in the midst of all that."

… Silence. Crickets. I could have laughed at the awkwardness if I wasn't suddenly in a shitty mood again. Instead, I forced a smile on my face and looked down at Miss Militia. Despite the significant age gap, she was still fairly shorter than me.

"Mark me down as an Independent Hero. Don't know if I'll come in for testing, I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, but shoot me a DM if you need me. I'm on PHO."

I turned to head towards Parian, who'd been innocently twiddling her gloved thumbs and expressly looking away from us for the past ten minutes. In my peripheral vision, I could see Armsmaster go to reach for me, but both Miss Militia's hand and a buzz from his earpiece stopped him in his tracks.

"I'll be in contact, Avalon - trust me, I know a true hero when I see one. I look forward to seeing you at HQ." The gritty determination in her voice was commendable. How could one woman sound so confident about something that was absolutely not going to happen?

I merely threw a hand up over my shoulder and banished their unique brand of drama from my thoughts. My Second Sight watched as they walked away, Miss Militia's combat knife shifting through at least seven different weapon systems in the brief few seconds the two heroes were in view.

Parian looked up at me, her blank white mask conveying more emotion than it should have been able to. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked softly. No pity lined her words, only understanding and a healthy dosage of admiration.

I smiled. "Nah. Want to meet my girlfriend?"

She nearly broke her neck with the speed in which she nodded.

Spoiler: Rolled Powers

Spoiler: Roll One (Declined)

Torch of Darkness (Peter Pan - 300 CP): A jeweled, wooden scepter that burns a vile, purple smog. The smoke embodies the corruptive darkness of growing up, and magical beings such as fairies in range of the smoke will feel intense pain and weakness.

Spoiler: Roll Two (Revealed Next Chapter)

A Pod (NieR - 200 CP): Pods provide an invaluable service for YoRHA. Communications, logistics, combat support, they can even serve as a chair while fishing. Pods are standard issue for all YoRHa field units. This one is a bit unique though. Normally a pod can only utilize a limited number of pod programs (spells). However, this pod not only comes with all the pod programs in the game available from the start, but you can program new pod programs into it based on any magic spells you may know. It also has all spells at the ready, all the time. No need to swap them out.

250 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

An early chapter from me! We get through the first PRT interaction, and it… went better than expected? If it isn't obvious, Miss Militia knew that press-ganging Avalon or trying to threaten him would have went horribly, and she feels like playing the long route is the best way to handle a powerful new hero like him. Especially one who seems so flippant and independent. She may get fussed at by her boss, though.

Parian and Cassie meeting next chapter? Possibly?

Chapter 19

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Topic: Empire Capes Spotted @ Hillside Mall

In: Boards News Events America Brockton Bay

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Jan 29th 2011:

I feel like Ive seen a lot in this city, too much probably, but seeing Hookwolf and Cricket just walk into the food court in broad fucking daylight is the scariest thing so far. I cleared out pretty fast because no way was I staying to watch what a bunch of nazis were getting up to during happy hour, but apparently things got really bad really fast. Like bad enough to warrant blocking off both entrances and stationing PRT squads outside.

I just drove by again and Im so confused. What the hell is happening downtown?

(Showing page 1 of 22)

Saskatchew

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

lmao why is it always downtown

Chilldrizzle (Banned)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

OP pussied out before seeing the action smh. How about starting a thread when you got actual information dumbass

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Saskatchew The Docks are no better, and as shitty as it sounds as a white man Id take nazis over Lung any day.

@Chilldrizzle Big words when you have nothing to contribute yourself. Stay on topic or leave asshole

Thatdude

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Nah this shit was actually crazy as fuck. i wasnt int he food court when it went down but i was in the mall when the explosion went off. DUDE I ALMOST SHAT MYSELF. it was one of those explosions where the impact hits before the sound, ppl started freaking the fuck out instantly. idk what happened exactly but it sounded like a cape fight 4 sure

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Thatdude Did you see anything when you were leaving the mall?

Thatdude

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Nahh dude i was not stopping to look around n shit. there was the explosion and then gunshots

Apokalyps117 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

I was there when they came in too, not sure when exactly you left but that one Rogue with the doll mask was there talking to some new looking cape… I think her name starts with a P or something. She had a big ass teddy bear.

After she gave him a bag he went to the bathroom and then BOOM, nazi jump scare. A lot of people left after that, me included.

Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Wait you mean Parian? Like the fashion designer Parian?

Apokalyps117 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

I'm not sure but the cape she was talking to was black. Black guy speaking to woman, black guy goes to bathroom, minutes later nazis come running? I don't know why Hookwolf of all people would come at a Rogue and a brand new cape though, seems premeditated

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Holy shit, so I'm parked outside right now just being nosy and look who they just brought out restrained and foamed up.

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Thatdude

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

OH SHIT, they actually got em?! isnt parian a fucking fashion designer hold on. and look at how fucked up Hookwolf looks damn dude, thats a lotta blood

Lolitup

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Good freaking riddance. Less nazi garbage on the street can only be a good thing. Had to have been that cape you guys were talking about, Parian's not even a hero. Anyone got more info on the new guy?!

Chilldrizzle (Banned)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

MESSAGE REMOVED BY ADMIN

USER BANNED BY ADMIN

Tin_Mother (Head Admin)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Chilldrizzle Threats of violence to other members of the forums is against Rule 1-9 of the TOS. Cool your head with a 7 day ban.

Thatdude

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Chilldrizzle… dude, chill b4 he finds ur racist ass 2

End of Page. 1, 2, 3… 20, 21, 22

Topic: Empire Capes Spotted @ Hillside Mall

In: Boards News Events America Brockton Bay

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Posted On Jan 29th 2011:

I just drove by again and Im so confused. What the hell is happening downtown?

(Showing page 7 of 22)

Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

It is I, the all-knowing and consistently up-to-date Bagrat, and I come to this thread bearing news!

As you all know from OP, there was a battle at the Hillside Mall today at roughly 7 PM. Empire Eighty-Eight capes, Hookwolf and Cricket, were seen with a group of nazi thugs entering the food court in full view of both CCTV cameras and local civilians. Cricket disappeared off into the male bathroom, while Hookwolf aggressively confronted one @Parian at her table. (Sorry for the ping, but please share more information if you can!)

What many of you are wondering, however, is how did ole' murder wolf and his lethal lackey end up in PRT custody? Well, it turns out that Brockton Bay has a powerful new contender in the hero scene, and he is the one responsible for single-handedly defeating both dangerous Empire capes! Information is sparse as of currently, but this is what I do know:

His name is Avalon, which is most-likely based off of the Arthurian legends. He seems to have a cordial and professional business relationship with Parian, though I may be corrected here if this is a reach. He is potentially a Grab-Bag Cape, with a variety of powerful and useful abilities including but not limited to teleportation, motherfucking laser beams, and… whatever this huge golden cage is supposed to be. [IMAGE]

Now, as I have no interest in getting bonked for hijacking yet another thread, I will simply leave the link to Avalon's speculation thread here: [LINK]

Feychick

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Oh damn that cage looks SICK. They didn't even clean the blood off of it yet. Howd he make it?

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@ Bagrat Where did you even get that picture? The mall is still being cordoned off - I tried to stop by and get a look myself.

Bagrat (The Guy in the Know) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Brocktonite03 Shhhh.

Chaosfaith

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

welp there it is. GG downtown brockton bay, you gotta deal with a bunch of nazi bastards throwing a hissy fit all week

i do not envy you if you're a person of color

FlippinMad (Cape Groupie) (Muted)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Wait do we know what he looks like at least??

Deimos

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Who cares about what he looks like? You're telling me he's a grab bag with laser beams, teleportation, and what looks like metal generation? Manipulation? What sort of bullshit grab bag package is that?!

Not to mention all the rusted crap in that pic. Did he turn Hookwolf into the Tin Man?

FlippinMad (Cape Groupie) (Muted)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@ Deimos Um, hello, I do??

Lolitup

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Got pics from the speculation thread, you should prob check it out @FlippinMad, there's some cool info there.

[IMAGE]

FlippinMad (Cape Groupie) (Muted)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Oh. My. GOD. Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry. I love his hair and that big spear

Deimos

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Stoppp.

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Questionable origins aside, those pics certainly show him in an impressive light. Not sure about the whole 'dark sorcerer' thing he's got going on though, seems easy to interpret that as villainous. The spear looks well-made, if a little… extra?

Seems kinda young too. Potential Ward?

Thatdude

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

i dont even care man i just hope he stays true to himself. dude fucked that pussy ass white boy uppp

we need more black heroes man, i fuck wit avalon. dude bringing in that POWAH

ScriptKitty69 (Verified Cape) (Coolest Moderator)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@FlippinMad Get muted loser.

XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

WAIT I SAW HIM AT THE BOARDWALK THE OTHER DAY!

Tin_Mother (Head Admin)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@ScriptKitty69 Check your private messages please. You have not been verified, 'Coolest Moderator' isn't even a tag, and how did you mute @FlippinMad? Muting is not a function on this website.

bothad

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Kinda wish we had a video of the fight, seems like it was fucking epic

ScriptKitty69 (Verified Cape) (Coolest Moderator)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

@Tin_Mother gg ez

QwertyD

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

hold on, how long is the mall going to be closed down??????

KuKluxKoolAid (Banned)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

MESSAGE REMOVED BY COOLEST MODERATOR

USER BANNED BY COOLEST MODERATOR

End of Page. 1, 2, 3… 5, 6, 7, 8, 9… 20, 21, 22
(Showing page 8 of 22)

ScriptKitty69 (Verified Cape) (Coolest Moderator)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

I got it! Hehe

Tin_Mother (Head Admin)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Check your private messages.

Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Updating his wiki page rn

Dawgsmiles (Original Poster) (Veteran Member)

Replied On Jan 29th 2011:

Please stay on topic everyone!!!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3… 6, 7, 8, 9, 10… 20, 21, 22

"Ahem."

The exaggeratedly fake clearing of a throat was like ice water poured down the nape of her neck.

Amy jumped against her will, almost dropping the phone that she'd been doomscrolling on for the past ten minutes since arriving in the drafty conference room. It wasn't like the main subject of the meeting was that relevant to her in the first place - the only reason they even invited her to the PRT Headquarters was because she'd been asked to run diagnostics on the bloodied and traumatized Hookwolf, and that had already been done an hour before they asked her to stay for this discussion.

Admittedly, she hadn't possessed the greatest of bedside manners, but playing the 'kind and benevolent nurse' for the average Brocktonite was already hard enough; imagine doing it for a racist, black-hearted villain with a furry fetish.

The new hero, Avalon - in addition to the other powers surmised in his PHO thread, the guy was also a healer, and in spite of the clear pain it seemed to have put Hookwolf through… he was a fucking effective one, too. That was probably what they wanted to hear from her, in more wordy, technical, and complicated jargon that they probably wouldn't even understand. It was definitely why Director Piggot, at the head of the intimidatingly long conference table, was giving her a severe look - not demanding or impatient, but expectant.

'Right.'

It was her turn to speak. The very real and very intimidating faces of the Brockton Bay Protectorate stared at her, some with interest, others with thinly-veiled boredom, but they were all watching. Pressure began to build.

Amy could feel her pale, freckled face heat up slightly as she rose to her feet, surreptitiously sliding her smartphone into the folds of her loose white robes. Her thumb caught on her shiny blue 'GUEST' lanyard as she did so, almost jerking her neck down for a split second before she extracted the traitorous digit, but no one commented or laughed so that was good. Silver linings: she wouldn't come out of this meeting hating anyone more than she already did.

Of course, silver linings didn't exactly make up for the fact that she was here instead of finishing up the last minute emergency calls at the hospital, but Amy had long since adjusted her expectations to skim the bare minimum when it came to 'things going well' in her life.

It was best to just get it over with.

After all, it wasn't as if they forced her to do this - they had simply asked, and like always, she selflessly offered her time and assistance because that's what a good hero did. While Amy truly believed and knew that she wasn't a good hero, because that title was reserved for blonde girls infinitely better and more deserving than her, she at least wanted to emulate one and do her just service. What other use for her was there, with powers like hers? Expectations like theirs?

"You can explain what you've discovered as soon as you're ready, Panacea," Director Piggot spoke again, clear and commanding. If she was anyone else, Amy probably would have assumed that patience was there as well, but she had enough experience with an older woman's subtle microaggressions to recognize the almost imperceptible impatience and annoyance when it was present. The familiarity left a bad taste in her mouth.

Amy cleared her throat and shifted her gaze away from Piggot's cold stare. There was a coffee stain on the sickly woman's blouse, near the collar, and she focused on it. Vicky would always tell her to imagine other people naked whenever it came to the anxiety of public speaking, but that was clearly not going to work here.

Having Vicky in the room instead of being surrounded by half-baked acquaintances and strangers would've been infinitely better, but that wasn't realistic. She was alone here, and that constant, nagging yearning and loneliness in her stomach twisted her guts, intermingling with an ever-increasing stress. Amy's lips twisted downwards.

"Avalon's healing ability works on a fundamentally different level than mine, but that doesn't make it any more dangerous from what I could tell without actually watching him heal. Instead of utilizing the excess material preexisting in the body in order to directly heal the injury, Avalon seemed to have just… skipped three or four steps in order to invoke high-speed regeneration at the cellular level."

The flood of words came out somewhat clumsily, but she'd worked through exactly what she would say at least three times while browsing PHO. That little spiel was probably the best they would get. But, feeling like she needed to say just a little bit more, Amy hesitantly spoke again. "Until I can witness him healing in person, all I can say one hundred percent is that Hookwolf is completely healthy, no side-effects or anything. 'Avalon' did a pretty good job."

Silence settled over the room as the heroes absorbed her prognosis, and Amy moved her gaze from the Director's coffee stain to the rest of the Protectorate. Her hands twitched to fiddle with something in the tense atmosphere, but there was nothing to grab hold of. She folded her hands into the sleeves of her robes instead.

"Sounds good enough to me," Assault broke the silence, dropping his docket down on the table and grinning a mega-watt grin. "Kid can beat Hookwolf's ass, send Cricket packing, and get the seal of approval from Panacea herself? Screw the Wards hook, let him come play with the big boys!"

His sudden bravado was apparently the push needed to incite discussion and break the uncomfortable silence. Voices began flying to and fro, some pushing back against Assault's presumptuous claim and others entertaining the idea. Amy sank back into her seat, happy to not be stared down by an entire group of powerful superheroes.

Her eyes drifted down to the file they'd put together for the mysterious new cape. It was fairly sparse considering the supposed lack of information regarding him, but they'd gotten a nice picture of him leaning against a huge fuck-off spear with his arms crossed.

It made for an impressive image, Amy had to admit. He was striking, in a way that you would find a particularly dangerous, yet majestic creature striking. The dark colors of his costume meshed well with the gilded gold of his gauntlets and lapels. Hell, even his mask practically oozed 'dark and mysterious'. He managed to straddle the line between 'villainous chic' and 'misunderstood hero', if she wanted to use a bit of Vicky's cape aesthetic lingo.

Combined with his random array of potent powers and his weird, bullshit method of healing and Amy had to admit that she was a little curious about the new guy. Just a tad.

Maybe she'd stick around for the full meeting, if only to gather more intel that her sister would inevitably grill her about. It didn't seem like the Director planned to kick her out anytime soon.

"And I'm telling you that Avalon wouldn't be ready, regardless of if he actually wanted to join up or not," Armsmaster was saying, his voice serious and intense as he leaned against the table. It was easy to misunderstand his intensity as aggression, but Amy could see the expression on his face - the man was just engaged. Vicky could get the same way sometimes.

Assault waved his hand dismissively in the air. "What'd he do, piss on your halberd when you went in to stick Hookwolf? Unless I'm reading into things way wrong, the kid has more than what it takes - he's a natural, through and through. And he looks pretty close to eighteen, er…" The ginger man tilted his head as he looked over the file again, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth. "… Give or take a few months? Maybe? We can make it work."

Before Armsmaster could retort, Miss Militia spoke calmly from her side of the conference table. "Avalon wasn't very receptive to the idea of joining any sort of 'team', which is why I pushed for him to come and register as an Independent." She chanced a glance at Director Piggot, and sure enough, the overweight woman was staring impassively right at her. "… Which I am still prepared to take full accountability for."

The Director held eye contact with the gun-toting cape for a few seconds longer, her frigid blue eyes indecipherable, before letting out a puff of air. "No need - it was the right call. Orders have already come from the Chief Director; we play the game Miss Militia started, try to lure him in and establish rapport. We want to know more about his abilities and his goals, and we can't do that if he's running away every time the word 'recruit' comes up."

Amy saw the frustration in the Director's face as she spoke, the way it jiggled her jowls in a tic that she probably wasn't even aware of. The others most likely saw it as well.

It was Battery who spoke up next, her hands folded neatly on the table in front of her as she tilted her head towards Piggot. "So we give up on recruitment? I don't mean to question the Chief Director, but that seems… risky, considering all that happened tonight." Heads were nodded all around, and Amy nodded a moment too late once she realized what the others were doing. Her ears burned in embarrassment, but she forced her face to stay stoic.

"Of course recruitment is preferable," the Director groused, "but orders are orders, and we cannot afford to alienate 'Avalon'. Until we can learn more and get him to distrust the PRT less, focus on fostering an amicable relationship." It almost sounded like she was biting the words out towards the end.

"… So, what exactly are his powers?" A young, boyish voice hesitantly rang out from the chair beside Miss Militia. Heads turned in his direction, and Aegis faltered for only a brief second before jutting out his chin and continuing in a more confident tone. "Not to interrupt, Director Piggot. I know you're having me sit in to participate and assimilate info to pass over to my team, but the details on the file is kinda brief. For instance-"

Miss Militia put a hand on the teenager's shoulder, and he shut up immediately. "Breathe," she said, a small smile on her face.

"Uh yeah, sorry. I just wanted to-"

"I know what you wanted to do. Learn to be patient." Piggot interrupted dryly, pressing a button on the conference table. In front of the gathered heroes, easily seen by all except for Amy who had to wiggle and stretch a bit to look over Dauntless' shoulder, a projector screen lowered from the ceiling and blinked on. The Director looked over to Armsmaster and Miss Militia and nodded her head once.

Almost synchronized, the two Protectorate heroes stood and made their way over to stand on either side of the screen. It was obvious that the whole thing was planned - Miss Militia even brought her own remote out of her pocket. Amy probably would've been more impressed if she could see a little better, though - she eyed the back of the armored hero's head with an annoyed frown. If only she could float like Vicky.

"Heh, I feel like I'm back in school," Assault chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Battery snorted. "Somehow I doubt you were this well-behaved."

"Babe, you've got-"

"This," Miss Militia started, easily talking over and silencing Assault with one word, "is the CCTV camera footage taken from the food court, starting moments before Avalon faced off with Empire Eighty-Eight members Hookwolf, Cricket, and four non-parahuman criminals."

She pressed a button on the remote, and they all watched as the black screen stuttered for a moment before the video started playing. The scene was fairly bleak almost instantly - Parian, semi-popular Rogue and seamstress, was clearly being pressed by the unpleasant and hairy Hookwolf. Even with her bad angle, Amy felt disgust rear its ugly head in her chest at the acerbic and racist drivel coming out of the man's mouth, barely audible due to his booming voice.

"Not this shit again," Assault grumbled sourly.

"Quiet," Piggot frowned, her own face impassive as she watched the projector screen.

"Cricket, bring the mutt out! Don't have too much fun without me!"

Aegis leaned forward, and Amy watched in the corner of her eye as he frowned at the video. "Where is she?"

"She slipped into the bathroom before this recording started. It's where Avalon was changing into the costume he presumably commissioned from Parian," Armsmaster responded automatically, still staring at the screen. It sounded like he had that answer ready and rehearsed too.

On the screen, Hookwolf commanded his thugs to go check out the bathroom before threatening Parian and her oversized teddy bear. The camera panned and turned, following the goons as they approached the door cautiously.

Things were starting to get tense, and Amy felt goosebumps raise over her arms as she watched the scene play out. It almost felt like some sort of horror or thriller, which was pretty fucked up since this was real life and those weren't B-list actors. Even then, she almost found herself wishing that she had popcorn.

Abruptly, the sound of an explosion ripped through the speakers, and the camera became shaky and grainy as the entire wall of the bathroom was practically imploded by a massive golden laser beam that disappeared almost instantly. The silhouette of Cricket's body was seen flying through the air and landing at Hookwolf's feet, whose back was to the camera.

Silence reigned for a moment, before-

"Holy fuck."

Eyes turned to Amy, but she refused to be cowed once again by the weight of their stares. "… What? That's a lot of firepower for just one blast. Stronger than anything I've seen my Aunt put out, at least." It didn't bother her to admit such, either - Lady Photon was a capable hero and a nice woman, but her normal laserbeams weren't over ten foot tall and just as wide. Whether Avalon had the ability to consistently use that sort of firepower was another thing entirely, though.

"Makes you wonder how much of that he's got in the tank," Dauntless muttered the healer's thoughts aloud.

Amy returned her attention back to the screen. At this point Hookwolf was yelling at the cloud of dust and property damage to 'show himself', pistols were being shot, and Avalon's response came in as clear as day in the speakers.

"Bringing guns to a cape fight isn't very 'honorable', Hookwolf…"

His voice was deep, warm, and thick, like a steaming hot cup of hot chocolate. Amy wasn't into super manly voices like Vicky was, but even she had to admit to herself that the sudden sound of Avalon speaking had made her heart jump a bit in her chest. It was objectively hot, right? Like, if she played a recording of it in a crowd of average people they'd probably be a bit startled too! Annnd… now she was sounding like she was in denial in her own head. Amy sighed.

'She'd probably like how he sounds. And looks.' Of course, the thought made her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Amy sneered, forcing all thoughts away. Collect intel, think less.

Someone gasped when golden spears shot out from the dust cloud at speeds too fast for the cameras to pick up, skewering through the heads of the nazis who'd shot first. Only when she forcibly closed her mouth and glanced at the others did Amy realize that she was the one who'd gasped, and everyone else - while suitably disturbed by the footage - seemed fine.

Logically, she knew that they were fine - she had been asked to check up on them as well, and the thugs had been conscious and completely unharmed, if just a bit low on dopamine and energy. Even then, seeing them pinned to the ground with golden spears double the size of their bodies was disturbing.

Piggot was looking at her again, and Amy sighed. "The spears are harmless… relatively speaking. From what I could tell, without going to deep into it, Avalon directly attacked their willingness to basically… do anything. At all. He exhausted them and made them too depressed to stay awake."

Assault began to open his mouth, and she smiled thinly. "And no, I don't know how that correlates to big ass spears." It wasn't something she often did - talking back or snarking at the Protectorate of all people, but inane questions interrupted the footage and she wanted to see more. This whole meeting wasn't as uninteresting and boring as she had originally thought it would be.

Dauntless, usually quiet and content to listen rather than speak, chimed in with his own opinion. "Reminds me of Gallant's emotional blasts. It didn't wound them physically, but…"

"It harms them on a more base level. More aggressively than anything Gallant has shown, but less versatile too on the emotional front." Battery finished, a curious edge to her voice. "It seems he did learn how to control it."

Miss Militia nodded her head seriously. "No one was permanently or irreversibly harmed today."

Today? The hidden meaning behind their words grabbed Amy's attention, but no one seemed like they wanted to go into more detail so she begrudgingly turned back to the screen.

The Avalon in the footage was fully shown now, the dust having been blown away at some point by his four-pronged attack against the nazis. He made for a badass figure, his coat and hair moving in some nonexistent breeze and that huge spear leaning against his shoulder. The grinning skull hovering at his side was slightly less 'badass', though, moving into 'unsettlingly creepy' territory and staying firmly put. It seemed almost alive, its bright yellow eyes moving to and fro as it studied the room.

"Parian, are you safe?"

He seemed way too collected for facing off against Hookwolf.

Amy witnessed many superheroes in the field, from street-level fights that spilled too close all the way to Endbringer attacks where she was as far away from the danger as reasonably possible. Hookwolf wasn't a fucking Endbringer, but he was a highly dangerous cape that might as well have been some crazy monster to any normal beginner. The footage was too grainy, too tinny to accurately portray everything on Avalon's visage, but that calm, almost casual confidence rang out like a beacon. He was not perturbed in the slightest, or, if he was… he had an unnaturally good poker face.

Amy's nose wrinkled. It frustrated her - not him being unafraid in the face of danger, but the ease in which he was handling everything, and she didn't even know why. Where were the frayed nerves, the hesitance? Where was the imperfection?

"Good, stay back. I'd hate to taint my first cape battle by slaughtering a bunch of punk nazi trash."

Someone whistled, and a soft smack accompanying it clued Amy in on who the duo most likely was. She didn't turn to check, though, considering Hookwolf was charging like a bull and the battle was officially on.

Amy wished she could say that they spent the next couple minutes hyper-analyzing every aspect of the fight, since that would imply that she wasn't as mesmerized and interested as the Protectorate heroes, but that would have been a lie. Other than grunts and hums, no further words were spoken as everyone gathered watched the rest of the battle between Avalon and Hookwolf. It was… enlightening, and while Amy actively disliked having the responsibility and powers that she had, even she had to acknowledge the fact that Avalon wasn't just powerful.

He was skilled, too. Fearless.

Every movement was calculated and performed with an almost condescending gracefulness, and with every second that he battled the metal wolf it seemed as if he was growing even more dexterous and nimble. He actually made Hookwolf seem like the noob in the fight. Amy… didn't know what to feel. On one hand, she was happy that such a hero was on the side of good in Brockton Bay. They needed all the help they could get when it came to pushing back against the villains, and there was nothing but good things that could come from his assistance if he decided to register with the Protectorate.

At the same time, though… he was objectively hot, he was young, and most importantly… he was really fucking cool. These weren't the thoughts of a girl with a crush - no, it was the lamentations of a girl suffering from unrequited love.

'Vicky is gonna eat this up.' Bitterness clogged her throat and stomach, warring with jealousy and something else that wasn't adding up correctly in her brain. 'She's gonna want to meet him. Talk powers. Fucking spar. Probably patrol together.' He was hotter and taller than Dean, had a deeper voice, seemingly had every power under the fucking sun, and they had just started another one of their stupid 'breaks'. Vicky was free game.

As if she didn't have enough fucking things to worry about.

Armsmaster paused the screen just as Avalon roared something out, only barely audible over the loud music blasting through the room, and the golden cage shown in his file began to blast upwards and imprison the rusted and discombobulated Hookwolf.

The scene looked like something out of a 1:1 rendition of some sort of video game. Avalon was falling to the floor, upside down and throwing his hand forward with a vengeful scowl on his handsome face, while Parian simply stood behind the kiosk, seemingly unable to react in time to dodge the metal spear extending out of the nazi's corroded maw. Piles upon piles of rusted scrap and broken steel littered the food court, leaving a hazy brown mist polluting the air.

"… I think this is a good time to go over all gathered information, with input from all of you," Armsmaster said in the ensuing, heavy silence. "I know that it's a lot to work through, but it's imperative that we analyze and come to rough measurements of Avalon's powers. His rate of growth… isn't normal."

Director Piggot, quite possibly the only one in the room not a little dazed by what she'd just watched on the screen, chose that moment to speak up before anyone else could offer their opinions. "He's already been classified as a Trump, evident by the increasingly dangerous powerset that has escalated drastically since the last time we've heard from him." She took a sip of the mug that was resting beside her pudgy, clasped fingers. Amy eyed the coffee wistfully.

"… Trump Six, at minimum." Dauntless said, crossing his arms over his armored chest. "Teleportation of about ten feet, some sort of effect that constantly and effectively rusts and corrodes metal, the 'goat skull' that put out those lasers and seemed to act independent of Avalon himself…" He trailed off, shaking his head with a sigh. "Maybe a little higher than a 6."

"Don't forget the shit he did at the start of the fight. It was kinda hard to see, but he had some sort of bright glow around him that looked sorta like a cloak. The bullets from those nazis was floating inside." Assault's voice was more serious now, the man fully engaged and leaned in as he scribbled something onto the back of his file.

"So something similar to kinetic energy?" Eyes turned to Aegis, and the boy shrugged his shoulders. "I saw it too. It looked kinda like the bullets were slowed to a standstill and left floating. Like that glowing cloak thing sapped away all the force."

"Good eye, Aegis." Miss Militia grinned - or, rather, squinted approvingly… Amy still wasn't sure how she expressed her emotions so clearly through her scarf. She just ended up looking constipated and angry when she tried it. "It faded quickly after being shown on camera, but we don't know if it's as simple as activating this 'cloak' again."

"Some sort of Breaker effect, then." Battery acknowledged.

"Seems like it. The thugs used 919mm Parabellum rounds, common and efficient but not necessarily the most penetrating, so the strength of his 'cloak' is mostly in the air."

Armsmaster nodded his head appreciatively at the progressing discussion. "Trump 6," he said gravely, eyeing Dauntless, "is a dangerous lowball to make. I spoke to him, and he seemed like a good kid if a bit arrogant - Trumps tend to be that way. Even then, there's not a zero percent chance that he goes overboard or decides that adhering to the rules and regulations set forth just isn't worth it anymore. Not to mention he seems to grow fast, and has show no sign of plateau. We have to judge him impartially-"

"Which we are-" Miss Militia moved to cut him off.

"And in accordance to that," Armsmaster countered her interruption with his own, stepping forward and staring heavily at the gathered heroes, "I say that we classify Avalon at a tentative rating of Trump 8, subtype still unknown until we can gather more information."

Miss Militia was immediately on the defense. "Footage here doesn't warrant a classification of eight, Armsmaster. He defeated Hookwolf and Cricket, yes, but his metal-corroding Shaker ability was the only reason it happened in the first place. Six or seven is more accurate." She wasn't upset, necessarily, but Amy could see that she wasn't planning on backing down.

Armsmaster frowned, turning to look at his teammate with what seemed like condescension on his face. "You're the only one whose weapon doesn't rely on being made of metal, Miss Militia." He shot back calmly, but there was a fire in his eyes. "He also has a Breaker effect that blocks bullets, high-speed teleportation, a flying minion with the equivalent firepower of a Blaster 6, flying energy spears that saps your vitality on contact, and while tests are still being made on that golden cage he created at the mall, so far no attempts to break or remove it has succeeded."

Silence. Amy tried not to breathe too loudly, awkwardly afraid of disrupting the tenseness that had befallen after Armsmaster's mini-tirade. She agreed with him for the most part, even if she wasn't the biggest fan of power classifications in the first place. Avalon was powerful, and the spread of abilities that he possessed was probably not the only ones he had or could get, if Piggot's initial statement was true. Even then, despite the unfair and unfounded dislike that was growing in her heart towards the dashing new hero, Amy felt bad for him. Just a little.

The responsibility for that type of power was probably heavy.

"I don't say this too often," Assault eventually spoke up, his voice even. "But I agree with Armsy here. I think the kid's great - anyone who sticks their foot up nazi ass is pretty great to me - but we can't drag our ass on this. If he turns out to be a bad apple…"

"Then underestimating him would be our downfall. I know. I just…" Miss Militia exhaled softly, closing her eyes. A heartbeat later, she opened them again. "I have a good feeling about him. In my gut. I guess it affected my opinions there for a moment, I apologize. It won't happen again."

Director Piggot cleared her throat, and with that one noise all attention turned back to her. "See that it doesn't, Miss Militia - even more than being a teenager, he's a teenager with too much power in his hands and the lack of wisdom to work with those who has his best interests in mind. Armsmaster, your designation of Trump 8 is well thought-out and I'll expedite it up the ladder. I expect a full report on my desk tomorrow morning, detailing his displayed abilities and effective strategies designed to counter them."

Both heroes nodded, Miss Militia a bit stiffly, and returned to their seats.

"Now, any last minute observations or questions?"

Aegis slowly rose his hand, and the Director gave him a dry look. "What is it, Aegis?"

"Did anyone else notice that he was getting stronger and faster over time? More skilled, too - the way that he was swinging the spear and dodging around became much smoother towards the end of the fight."

Battery suddenly snapped her fingers, and the abrupt noise made Assault jump and gawk at her. "You're right! I was going to comment on it before the, uh…" she trailed off, eyeing the composed Miss Militia and Armsmaster, before soldiering on. "Anyways - it could just be us looking too deeply into it, but it was noteworthy enough for me to notice too. Nice catch, Aegis."

The boy rubbed the back of his helmet sheepishly. "Thanks Battery."

Armsmaster tapped the remote again, and the sound of a loud gunshot tore through the speakers. Amy and the Protectorate heroes swung their heads over to the screen and watched as Avalon's spear blasted from his grasp in a picture-perfect throw, glowing a shimmering gold and practically disappearing and reappearing inside of Hookwolf, skewering straight through his rusted metal and hitting something important.

He paused the screen as Hookwolf was transforming back, stabbed through the gut and howling in pain.

"… Did his spear just break the sound barrier?" Dauntless asked dully, still staring at the frozen video.

Armsmaster smiled a humorless smile. "Thank you for reminding me. We can add Brute and Thinker subclassifications to his file as well." There was an underlying frustration and tiredness to his voice that Amy could only barely detect, but she was clueless as to why he was feeling them. The looming paperwork he'd have to deal with, maybe? The Director did drop a pretty large assignment on their laps.

Piggot massaged her temples. "Great. Until I've confirmed everything, what we've discussed here does not leave this room. News is already getting out, and in order to curtail the majority of the panic and wild theorizing, the PRT will have to release some sort of statement as soon as possible. For now, meeting dismissed - Miss Militia, Armsmaster, meet me in my office in ten so we can discuss Hookwolf's transfer to the Birdcage."

"Understood."

"Yes, Director."

Chairs were pushed back, handshakes were given, and mutters ran across the room as everyone got ready to head home and ruminate over the news that they received today. Amy's ass felt numb as she stood and headed towards the door immediately, thoughts running through every inch of her brain. There were good ones, like 'Vicky's gonna pick me up soon, I can't wait to see her face again' and 'I wonder what perfume she used today', but the bad ones like 'She's my sister, of course she's going to take me home' and 'I'm such a fucking weirdo, why am I daydreaming about her perfume' were there as well.

Even louder than those, of course, was the biggest worry crawling like hookworms in her stomach. 'I wonder if she's heard the news already… '

Like clockwork, as Amy made her way through the plain, boring halls of the PRT Headquarters, a text pinged on her phone. Hands only slightly sweaty, she took it out of her robes and swiped over to the message. It was Vicky.

FlyinxHigh: OMG, have you seen PHO recently?? Some badass messed up Hookwolf and Cricket, like rlly fucked them up

FlyinxHigh: hes like REALLY hot, Amy!!!!

FlyinxHigh: You think he likes blondes? LOL you HAVE to tell me everythinggg

Her heart fell through her stomach.

Distantly, she was aware that she was still walking, making her way to the front desk and turning in her 1-Day guest pass. The secretary said something, but Amy didn't want to listen to her and wasn't in the mood so she just turned on her heel and kept walking towards the exit. Why was she even upset? This entire time, she knew how her sister would react. Her and Dean were on one of their little 'breaks', and Avalon was trending on Brockton Bay's PHO board. She should have expected it - she did expect it.

So why did it still hurt so much? Bother her so much? Why was she hating an objectively good guy that she didn't even know?

FlyinxHigh: OH im outside btw! Maybe we can stop by Fugly's and grab food for dinner

My treat for my hardworking sis 3

Oh right, because she was a disgusting freak in love with her own sister.

Gritting her teeth, Amy forced herself to text back. These feelings in her body wasn't Vicky's fault, and she refused to punish or alienate the only good thing in her life because of her own fucked up defects. It was a weight and a burden that she had to carry, and as always, she'd do so silently.

PanPan: I'm almost outside.

Her fingers shook over the screen…

PanPan: And I come bearing gifts of my own about a certain new hero

The reply was instantaneous, and it was a bunch of excited emojis that Amy would never be caught sending in a million years. She stood there for a moment, right before the double doors that separated her from the outside world, and simply breathed. She could do this. She would do this, because she was Amy Dallon… a good sister. Just a good sister.

"C'mon." She muttered darkly, biting her lip and pushing open the door.

There was a blur of gold, softness, and beauty. The sight of Vicky's smiling face kickstarted her heart.

"Oh, Ames! How'd it go?"

Warm arms encircled her, a citrusy orange scent filled her nostrils, and in the moment Amy simply allowed that heady dopamine rush to ward away all of the bad thoughts.

"It went pretty good. Boring as fuck, though."

"Ughhh, I bet. Stuffy suits… but it's okay, because tonight we dine like men! Into my arms, m'lady."

"… Pfft, alright missus knight in shining armor."

The thoughts would come back, of course. They always did, without fail.

But for now, she could live in the glow for just a little longer… at least until the man of the hour was brought up again.

Spoiler: Author's Note

We get a peek into PHO and the heroes' thoughts about Avalon and his fight with Hookwolf. As always, let me know what you think about everything and hit me with any questions, comments, and concerns.

Next chapter will be up early on the either today or tomorrow, and publicly on Friday!

Chapter 20

"… Wow. I-… just, wow. How did you do this? The inside looks nothing like-"

"The outside? Yeah, I know - we get that a lot. The neighbors hate it."

"And the furniture! The paintings, too! This is really high quality decor…"

I had to hold myself back from cackling like a witch as I watched Parian twirl around in the Sanctum's dimly lit living room, her dark eyes wide behind the smooth contours of her porcelain mask. The cause for her bewilderment was understandable; after turning the bunker into the equivalent of a magical Victorian apartment, there was no ladder that led down into the living space anymore. Rather, in proper metaphysical fashion, the hardcoded security door led right into a short, decorated hallway that connected to the first floor of the Sanctum, leading us straight into the common area.

How that worked in spite of the outside still looking like a tiny Endbringer shelter, I had no fucking idea, but I was a sorcerer, not an architect. Magic was magic, and you had to either rock with it or get left in the dust. I chose the former, because my momma ain't raise me to come in last. Refusing to adapt got you killed.

"Cass is almost definitely taking a shower if she's not out here lurking around, so make yourself at home and relax. Mi casa es su casa, 'least until you piss me off." I could distantly hear the shower running upstairs - the hermit had probably woken up recently.

"… Thank you, Avalon." Parian turned from where she'd been examining some large, abstract painting of a fruit basket that was placed over the unlit fireplace. Her eyes were wide in equal parts weariness and appreciation.

"Don't mention it." I drawled, waving her off.

As I made my way towards the kitchen, shrugging my outer coat off and tossing it over my shoulder, I studied Parian curiously through my Second Sight. It was risky, some might say, to bring her back to my Sanctum. Some might even go as far as to say that it was downright retarded, considering the fact that I barely knew the woman and only had an inkling of her characterization from a community-ran wikipedia page.

To those people, I would say… yeah, you're probably right. But, on the other hand, I was the one who dogwalked Hookwolf, saved her life, and saw the pure breadth of gratefulness and self-disgust in her eyes when she thanked me. In the short amount of time that we knew each other, we'd been through a lot… definitely more than your average acquaintances. I trusted Parian, I recognized the potential in both her skillset and powers, and I had no qualms about bringing her into the fold. Ultimately, though, this was Cassie's spot before it was mine - I was just the mage who spruced it up a lil' bit. If my hacker decided the dollmaker had to bounce, she'd have to bounce, but until then…

"You want a soda?" I called over my shoulder, yanking the refrigerator open and peering into its frigid depths.

"Um, just water's fine!" In spite of her raised voice, Parian still sounded stiff and unsure. Clearly the chick didn't know Spanish.

"Water machine broke, try something more flavorful. Matter of fact, I'll bring it to you anyway." I snorted, grabbing two cans of some orange fizzy drink Cassie had me buy a couple days ago. We still had an eight pack in the fridge, so I didn't feel too bad cutting into our stash. The drinks were actually pretty good, tasting a bit like Fanta if it had a bastard lovechild with Sprite.

When I brought the drinks back to the living room, Parian was sitting at the edge of the sofa, straight-backed with her hands folded on her lap. Her masked face tracked me as I made my way to the comfortable spot beside her.

"I'm trying to cut myself off from soft drinks," she protested weakly, accepting the proffered can and cradling it in her gloved hands. "New Year's Resolution…"

I cracked my can open and took a long, deep sip. The cold, almost burning sensation of freshly drank soda lit a trail of fire down my throat, and I let out a satisfied grunt as I swallowed, my eyes closing shut in relish. "Ahhh, that's the shit right there."

Parian stared at me, unblinking. "Maybe I can drink a little bit? Not the entire can, but drinking just a sip or two after everything that happened today would be nice…" I couldn't tell exactly where her eyes were wandering, but something told me that she was more locked in on the beads of condensation rolling down my can of soda than anything else.

I smirked, amused at her stubbornness. "You almost got hate-crimed by an oversized rust bucket tonight. Let your hair down and live a little, Parian." I leaned back into the soft black cushions of the couch, propping my leather boots up on the coffee table and simply allowing my body and mind to untense from the day's stress. Tiredness began to prick at the edges of my consciousness.

"… You're right. Sorry for being so high-strung, I'm not trying to come off as ungrateful or cold. I'm just not used to… this." She quietly popped the cap to her own soda, but made no movement to drink from the can.

I lazily turned my head towards Parian. "'This?'" I inquired, blinking tired, half-lidded eyes at her.

"This," she insisted, gesturing at the dark, cozy warmth of the Sanctum around us. "I… don't really have any friends, college-side or cape-side. Being invited back to a client's house after he saves me from a racist asshole is brand new territory, so I'm kind of hesitant, I guess." She let out a self-deprecating giggle, her gloved hands gripping the can tighter.

"… Ah." I hummed.

"I just hope that I'm not intruding, or that me freaking out afterwards made you feel obligated to treat me afterwards. I know you mentioned meeting your girlfriend, but I…"

"You don't think I'm lying 'bout having a girl, do you?" I tried to hide the teasing lilt to my voice.

Parian jumped, eyes widening as she twisted to stare at me. "No, of course not! I'm just- I mean, I was just saying that since you invited me-"

"Heh, chill - I'm fucking with you. I know what you mean." I chuckled, idly raising a hand to brush a lock of hair out of my eye.

Her panicked stance froze, and though I could not see her expression through her mask, I had a decently confident feeling that the older woman was scowling at me something fierce. "Making fun of me when I'm laying my insecurities out on the table isn't very nice, Avalon." She pointed out, looking back down to her opened soda again.

"That's the price of my friendship and protection - you gotta endure my shitty attempts at cheering up depressed cuties." Her head snapped back over to me, and I winked lazily.

"Oh? And you do that often?"

"Mainly on my off days, when I'm not saving kittens from trees or curb stomping white supremacists."

Parian inclined her head, a happy and entertained light shining brightly in her eyes. "Well, I'm happy that we met on your 'curb stomping' day," she giggled, her tense shoulders finally relaxing. "… And thank you."

I closed my eyes and waved my hand dismissively in the air - though it looked more like a tired flop of the wrist than anything. "You already thanked me, silly. I said it's coo-"

"No," she insisted, shaking her blonde tresses. "I said thank you before because you saved me, and I'm still grateful for that. But this time, I'm saying thank you for just… being here. For me. And for being my friend. It feels really nice to have one again."

'Ouch, right in the heart… ' I could already feel the rustic gears of my heart doing its little crank, pushing warmth through my drained body. I cracked an eye open at the sound of Parian fiddling with something, expecting to see her finally drinking her damn soda after five minutes of edging the can, only to flinch in genuine surprise at the sight that greeted me.

"Woah…"

She was no longer wearing her mask or wig, both accessories tossed and abandoned on the other side of the couch. Long, raven black hair fell down her back in thick, luscious waves, framing a gorgeous and heart-shaped face that would not have looked out of place in some of modeling portfolio. Parian, even in the dirty white frock stained with rust, was almost breathtakingly beautiful, with full red lips, large brown eyes, and an all-around exotic glow that had me staring, befuddled, for a few seconds longer than was probably proper.

"Holy shit…" I muttered, without really thinking about it.

There was a brief, reactionary silence that lingered for another moment or two, before she blinked and peered at me through her long, curly lashes. A small, amused smile formed on her pouty lips. "Staring is rude, Avalon… and you have a girlfriend, don't you?" Curiosity and warning intermingled at the edge of her placid voice.

I blinked once. Twice. The hamster wheel in my head began turning again, and I gave Parian a sneaky glance. Two could play at that game.

"I do, and she's hella adorable. If we're adding on reasons why it wouldn't work out; You probably like your women more plucky and heroic, right? Probably long, dark hair. Pretty skin."

"Of course, especially when they have a little-…..w-wait, huh?"

It was her turn to stare in shock and confusion. I grinned victoriously.

"Knew it. Don't underestimate the gaydar, baby. Cass is gonna melt when she sees you."

"W-wait, that's not-!"

Parian's cheeks quickly began to heat up, embarrassment and nervousness fighting for dominance across her face. She clumsily lunged forward to stop me from getting up, but my reflexes were many times faster than anything she was working with - I was already walking towards the staircase, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders ten feet away. My outer coat was left draped over the back of the sofa, leaving me in the silky black shirt that exposed my defined chest to the world.

Idly, I pulled at the loose fabric. It was stylish, but a little more revealing than I was used to.

"Yo, Cass!" I yelled, gently brushing my throat with tiny vestiges of Aqshy to add a clear resonance to my voice. The heat bolstered my vocal chords, giving my deep voice an almost demanding growl. "We've got company! I know you already saw it on the camera, you lil' perv!"

Silence. The sound of running water had already quietened down, though. If I knew Cassie as well as I thought I did after our steamy week-long entanglement, she was probably lurking behind a desk, hiding online and studiously ignoring the fact that a stranger was in her home. That was fair, since she was very obviously an even bigger hermit than I had been back in my old life, but I genuinely felt like she would like Parian.

The woman in question peered nervously over the top of the couch, her face still warm. "Avalon, maybe-"

"I-I'm not a pervert, you weirdo! I… I just wanted to be cautious!" Cassie's loud, annoyed voice cut the petite seamstress off, causing her to immediately pipe down with a muted squeak that she probably did not want me to hear.

Cassie's voice was slower getting closer, though, and I held off on responding in favor of tapping my foot slowly on the ground and crossing my arms like a disappointed father. Considering the other night, I wasn't that far off from 'daddy' anyway.

More silence, and it was in this minor interim that the Celestial Grimoire decided to come alive and toss out a heavy ass charge. I hesitated, but only for the briefest of seconds - because what it offered was worth its weight in hella gold.

Spoiler: Archmage (TES: Magic - 400 CP)

While there are many mages who are masters of their craft, with a skill and understanding of their chosen School that would be difficult to match, few are as suited for the role of Archmage as you. Your magicka reserves are, quite frankly,monstrous, which is not helped by the fact that they replenish at an incredible rate. Yet it is not just power, but your management skills which make you a fitting candidate. You could effectively manage an entire college, or even a province spanning guild, and keep it running efficiently almost single-handedly.

I didn't even blink as almost all of the charge that I'd built since the fight sloughed off to accept the perk. Magicka, mana, magick - whatever the fuck, it all came back into the same pool of magic in my core, and with that mote of light secured I had to bite back a hiss as my reserves grew at an almost painful rate. Within moments, it had grown many sizes larger than it was before. If it was a quaint pond before, the inside of my soul probably had more in common with a raging, magical waterfall now. I could practically feel my magic buzzing beneath my skin, ready and desiring release.

A dozen or so Gaster Blasters probably wouldn't even put a dent in my tank now. And that wasn't even going into the second part of the perk.

It was in this rush of endorphins that I heard a door upstairs shut quietly - the sound came from the right side of the mezzanine, so Cassie's computer room door. A couple of seconds later, the recently washed girl peered over the dark wooden railing, a small pout on her flushed face as she glared down at me. Her dark, silky hair was still dripping wet, and she was in her favorite oversized pink hoodie. I had to remember, in that exact moment, that I was impatiently waiting for her to reveal herself.

I started tapping my foot again.

"I'm being serious, jerk - I wasn't watching from my computer or anything."

Well, that was awfully and suspiciously specific. My foot continued to tap on the smooth hardwood floor, and I gave her a deadpanned stare.

Cassie's stubborn resolve faltered. "W-well, I didn't watch from my computer! I just heard voices and got a little skittish, so I figured I'd… listen a lil' bit. To be safe, y'know? I've been living alone for months, Jay."

I tilted my head. "Mhm. We weren't even talking that loud for the most part. When'd you bug the new place?" I wasn't mad, of course - this was still her crib. I was mainly just curious and a little impressed.

"Pfft, 'bug the new place'," she scoffed, her voice deepening to mock mine. "Respect your girlfriend, toots - I don't need bugs. New app just dropped; it's called iSpy, and it can backdoor your Bluetooth to broadcast whatever audio's your microphone's picking up straight to my phone. Worked on it all of… tonight" Her cracked resolve was magically restored, a proud smirk on her face as she leaned lazily over the railing. If she had bigger tits, it probably would've made for an impressive display - instead, I was more concerned with two things…

"First off," I said dully, uncrossing my arms and holding them out just in case. "We both know you're not the most nimble of chicks, so chill on the dramatic lean. That's a twenty foot drop."

She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to respond, but I wasn't finished.

"Secondly… where did all of that confidence come from? You were still spyin' on us, perv. The proof is in the pudding. 'iSpy'? C'mon bro…"

"You-"

Parian raised her hand slowly from the safety of the couch, clearly a little put off by the rapid display of emotions and deep familiarity going on between the two of us. I didn't even need Intuition to proc that observation. "Uh, excuse me… 'Cassie'? Did you say that you hacked my phone?" There was obvious unease in her voice, but I doubted Cass picked up on it.

"Huh?" she blinked, looking away from me and staring at Parian as if just noticing her for the first time. Her eyes promptly widened in awe. "Holy shit!"

I nodded my head sagely. "That's what I said too."

"Tch! I know you did," Cassie clicked her teeth, tossing me a dismissive glare that lacked any real anger. Her attention was almost instantly drawn back to Parian, however, and she gave the woman a small, sheepish grin. "Sorry, I sort of… lost track of what you asked me for a sec. What'd you say your name was?"

She definitely knew her name, the shady minx.

"Parian," Parian replied after a moment's thought, before shaking her head and offering a hesitant smile. "But considering everything that's happened tonight, including the whole 'unmasking' thing… you can both call me Sabah. I already know your name, after all."

Both Cassie and I widened our eyes. Honestly, I probably should've expected it, considering - as she said - the whole 'unmasking' thing, but it was still a pretty big jump to go from a simple customer to 'trusted friend' all in the span of, what… two days? Then again, saving someone's life and spending half the time with them utilizing a charisma-boosting magical ability was bound to incite some sort of accelerated trust.

Shit, they were both looking at me now. It wasn't like I even had much of a 'civilian identity', considering I wasn't even native to this world, so it wasn't like I cared a lot about hiding it. Plus my mask literally covered like one-fourth of my face; if someone wanted to spot me out in a crowd, they probably could.

And I fucked with Parian. Heavy.

"'Ight, we're doing this then," I smirked, reaching up and grasping my mask lightly with one hand. I thought about making the moment a bit more dramatic and cheesy, maybe playing some sort of music in the background, but Cassie was already making her way down the stairs and her face practically screamed 'you're lame don't even think about it.'

"You're lame, don't even think about it."

"Fuck you."

Parian looked between the two of us, befuddled. "I…"

"He was thinking of doing something cringy I think, like playing a drum roll while dramatically taking the mask off." Cassie's voice was dull as she walked past me and leaned on the couch beside Parian, her arms crossed over her chest. "You can tell because he loses the whole 'brooding hero' facial expression and starts to grin like some sort of evil mob boss."

I tried not to react to the delicious and wonderfully Cassie scent of blueberries and cream. I was supposed to be annoyed at her, damn it!

"Ohhh," Parian's mouth opened in a cute little circle as she looked up at me again. Something flashed in the dark pools of her eyes, and she smiled. "I can see it now. His face did the same thing when he asked me if I was okay, back at the mall - right before that one really cool line…"

" 'I'd hate to taint my first cape battle by slaughtering a bunch of punk nazi trash.'" Cassie growled, her face dark and smirking, before she relaxed her expression and let out a loud, highly amused snort that managed to sound both fond and exasperated. "He's so fucking cool and scary, but he can be ridiculous at the same exact time."

Parian looked over at Cassie, and it was like her eyes lit up. "I agree! Yesterday, when he was showing me his powers, Avalon decided to explain it by summonin-"

"Woah, woah, woah," I cut in, pulling my mask from my face and stepping forward. A couple of locs fell into my face, freed from the restraining barrier of the opera mask, and I ran my hand through the tangled mess. "Jason here, newly unmasked hero revealing himself to his new friend Sabah." I tilted my head at the woman in question and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, by the way."

If she was annoyed about being cut off, Pari-… Sabah did not show it. Instead, the fear that seemed to have plagued her before was practically fleeing in the face of a brand new glow. Something not broken or fucked up in my heart warmed at the sight; all mistrust and paranoia aside, it was obvious that she was just happy to be amongst friends again. Sure, she barely even knew Cassie, and I was a bit of a unique case, but being a woman who triggered partially out of loneliness, I knew that the happiness on her face wasn't fake.

A bit restrained, maybe, but definitely not fake.

She couldn't keep the smile out of her voice when she replied, "It's nice to meet you too, Jason."

"You can just call me Jay," I shrugged, reaching into my back pocket and pulling out Cassie's sunglasses.

"Mm, alright 'Jay'." Sabah murmured, seemingly satisfied with something as she nodded her head and settled back into her spot on the couch.

As I slid the sunglasses on and made my way around the side of the sofa in order to sit back down, I noticed Cassie practically shooting lasers at the side of my head with her eyes. For a moment, I wondered if the friendliness between Sabah and I bothered her - which would've been understandable, if she hadn't already listened in on the whole 'lesbian' conversation - but then Hidden Intuition threw a little bone my way.

Cassie is miffed that you haven't explained what happened at the Mall.

She was feeling left out. Adorable. Fortunately for her, after introductions, I had plans to approach the gigantic elephant in the room - or, rather, the beaten nazi in der kerker. The question was, how did I want to approach it? I could sit us all down and have a serious discussion about the whole thing, but today had already been pretty intense and I felt like playing with my girlfriend a little bit.

I chanced a glance at Sabah. The woman seemed satisfied with the comfortable silence, having nestled back into the corner of the couch with her can of orange soda once again held in her hands. She nursed it slowly, taking small sips as she looked around at the decor of the living room. She was 'vibing', as it were, and I doubted that she was the type to be squeamish or uptight around couples, so…

"Eep!"

The cool thing about being a mage like me? I didn't shy away from the physical gains. Aqshy bolstered my strength and vitality magically, while Heroic Aptitude did so naturally - by making me just strong enough to be the hero that I have to be, word to Link. In this instance, my Zelda was Cass, so I allowed the Red Wind ruminating in the room to envelop my muscles and give me the little extra twang needed to reach back with my right arm and bodily pull her over the couch and into my lap.

She practically flew when I yanked on the front of her hoodie, landing softly against the top of my thighs chest first. Fortunately, I was starting to become rather skilled at manipulating the Winds pretty smoothly, one after the other - just as Aqshy enhanced my strength, Azyr softened her landing by providing a gentle, yet firm buffer of wind between my lap and Cassie's stomach.

Instead of a grunt of pain or the sound of the breath being knocked from her chest, my small hacker gf let out a high, surprised yelp and wiggled like a fish on top of me. Her hoodie had ridden up a bit in her miniature flight, and the pale, jiggly expanse of her fat, panty-clad ass was bared proudly for the world to see. Or, at the very least, Sabah, who was staring with wide eyes and a flushed face. Her soda had fallen from her hands at some point, spilling across the coffee table.

"Oh my…"

"Jason!" Cassie whisper-screamed, embarrassment, mortification, and something else a little more spicy filling her voice. "The fuck was that for?! L-let me up!" Her voice was slightly muffled, by fault of being face down ass up, so I lightly smacked her right cheek in lieu of talking to the back of her head. The ass fat jiggled agreeably to my physical inquiry, and I nodded seriously.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. She's been pretty discourteous today, hasn't she?"

I'd been talking, pretty sarcastically at that, to her ass - but much to my surprise, Sabah spoke up from the corner of the sofa; hesitant and unsure of any boundaries, but seemingly cognizant of the fact that the byplay was harmless and consensual.

"She did hack my phone… and most likely the mall's CCTV footage, now that I think more about it." Her voice was quiet, but there was a noticeable smile in there.

I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Yep, it was small and tumultuous, but there was definitely an upturn of the lips.

Cassie wiggled stubbornly. Considering it was doing great things to her ass, I didn't even bother stopping her. "Sabah, what the heck?! I-I mean, I did hack your phone, but I had to make sure you weren't, like, a frickin' Mormon or something!"

Smack!

"Eee!"

It was a light slap, but Cassie's butt was apparently a drama queen. Sabah twitched at the impact, and her eyes widened even more. As entertaining as it would have been, I cinched down on Hidden Intuition's almost childlike eagerness to dive headfirst into that one bodily movement. Sometimes getting secrets out the old fashioned way was more exciting.

"A Mormon? Really?" I smirked, returning my attention back down to the petite girl lying in my lap. "Lying won't get you anywhere, babe. Ain't that right Sabah? Just admit to your wrongdoings and we'll tell you all about our exciting day."

"Mmm, no!"

I wasn't using my magical perceptive abilities, but I wasn't a stranger to unique and salacious occurrences and something was telling me that I was hitting a very specific part of the woman's brain with my actions here. There wasn't much more than an idle curiosity in my gut, but if I remembered something correctly about Sabah's more 'leather-focused' inclinations, she was a fan of spankings. More specifically, being the spanker.

When she smiled and spoke again, the dark-skinned woman had a noticeably more… composed tint to her voice. The shakiness all but disappeared, but there was still restraint there. Nervousness. Understandable, considering the suddenness of my little game, but I usually had pretty good instincts about this sorta stuff. I wasn't planning on fucking Cass in front of our new friend or anything like that - going too far was how you alienated people.

This had to be kept lighthearted and chaste.

"I think," Sabah began, carefully turning away from her spilled soda and giving me - or, more specifically, me and Cassie's chubby cheeks - her full attention. "That she needs to learn both patience and honesty. Lying is unbecoming."

I nodded my head.

"It's churlish." I replied coolly, massaging the reddened flesh beneath my hand. The gold gauntlet probably didn't help much, but judging by the labored breathing and half-hearted 'no's' and 'stops', I doubted that she minded.

"T-the heck does that even mean?" Cassie grumbled weakly, turning head head just enough for me to see her scarlet red cheeks and glaring visage.

SMACK!

"A-ah, Jay!"

"Impertinent." Sabah concurred, her eyes now focused solely on me. Her eyebrows were beginning to raise.

"Contumelious, even." I countered immediately, looking right back at her.

If Cassie was confused and flustered before, steam was beginning to pour out of her ears at this point. "Gu-guys, why are you-!"

SMACK!

"A-ahhh!"

Sabah's flinched, and she glanced down at Cassie. Her composed coolness splintered, and a half-stifled giggle broke through. "M-malpart?" She tried, looking back up at me through amused, disbelieving little snorts.

"Close," I grinned crookedly, once again rubbing comforting circles on Cassie's ass. "It's malapert, actually - proud of you for gettin' that far, though. Three gold stars."

This time she actually laughed, and if there was any lingering stillness or awkwardness wafting through the air, it was shoved away completely by the sound of Sabah's twinkling, almost maniacal guffaws. Cassie made a 'hmph' noise and started wiggling like a dying fish again, so amidst Sabah's laughter and my own amusement, I slid both hands beneath the prone girl's armpits and easily lifted her into a sitting position in my lap.

"Finally-"

Cassie stiffened in my lap once she was settled comfortably, and I stiffened even more beneath her once the large, swollen bulge in my pants found purchase against her noticeably damp panties. My face didn't shift - I already knew what I was getting myself into, and I fully planned on finishing what I'd started later tonight.

Belatedly, before Sabbah could notice her hesitance, Cassie hurried to finish her sentence. "Finally, I don't feel like a freaking platter of sushi! What was that even for, Jay?" She turned her head, giving me a heated look. The pulsating clench of her pussy, felt like a heartbeat through my crotch, gave double meaning to that question.

I simply shrugged, guiltlessly.

"Hehehe," Sabah's laughter finally died down, and the woman gave Cassie an amused look. "It was simply fair play for your own meddling, is it not?" The foreign accent only heightened the Rogue's charm, and as Cassie turned back to look at her I could clearly see that she was getting won over already. Honestly, the both of them were in dire need of genuine friendship and kindness.

"Hmph… I guess so," Cassie grumbled, though a small smile was on her face. "It's not like I necessarily hate being punished by Jay… not that I like it or anything."

I lightly tapped my index finger on one of her squishy thighs. "Think about it like this; Sabah just saw you getting spanked, ass out in the wind." I lazily turned my head to glance over at the seamstress, a puckish grin forming on my lips. "If that isn't the tightest start to a friendship ever, I don't know what is."

"Very true," Sabah nodded sagely, as if discussing the weather. "Plus, you actually taught me a few words, Jaso-… Jay. I taught myself English, so it is always nice to meet someone with such a good grasp of the language."

It was my turn to look embarrassed. I wasn't, actually, but it'd been a while since I faked humility and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't always viewed as a cocky and conceited asshole. Even absolute superiority like mine needed the occasional breather.

"Shucks," I simpered, rolling a loc around my finger and glancing away. "Thanks…"

…

"Erm…" Sabah coughed.

"Babe," Cassie cringed, leaning away from me. "Don't ever do that again."

"What?"

"That." Sabah said, pointing at me. I was still looking away, one finger wrapped around a lock of hair.

"Be me?" I feigned confusion.

"You know what she means, asshole," Cassie snorted, thinking better of the distance she'd created and cuddling back into my chest. "The whole 'humble' thing falls really frickin' flat when you do it."

"It's not natural." Sabah agreed.

I sighed, dropping my hand and relaxing my 'sheepish' expression into my usual brooding glare. "Whatever. You wanted to know about what happened at the mall, right?" I asked the touchy girl in my arms, guiding a golden-clad finger through her damp head of hair. She was getting my shirt wet, but I didn't mind.

"Mhm," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. "I already saw the threads on PHO - you're kinda going viral on the Brockton Bay forum right now. Sorry, Sabah."

Sabah smiled, though there was no bitterness in her expression as she watched us. "Don't be. I couldn't-… no, I didn't help in the battle. As long as Jason wears my costume proudly and honorably, I'll be happy."

I could feel Cassie's smile. "It looks really cool, by the way - I like the aesthetic. A bit… eye-catching, but it's hot."

"Thank you, Cassie."

"No prob. Now, while I've seen what PHO has been saying… before I got suspended. Again. I don't have much more info. Sooo… spill. What the heck happened to Plan Whatsamacallit?"

"Plan 'Survive and Thrive'," I corrected tersely, smirking at her snort. "And it's still a-go… just expedited a lil' bit. Didn't you already see what happened, anyway? Miss 'I Casually Hack Everything'?"

She leaned up to give me a glare. With her scent so close, and her awfully soft-looking lips mere inches away, I was tempted to go for a kiss… but then I remembered that Sabah was right there, and for some reason a kiss seemed more intimate than spanking her ass, so I resisted. For now.

"The audio was shitty, and I couldn't hear what you guys were saying before Hookerwolf came in. I have my suspicions as to why he showed up, but…"

"H-Hookerwolf?" Sabah muttered dazedly to herself.

I nodded my head. "Point. We were discussing the trials of life and the pursuit of cleanliness before he showed up, offering to give us a shower-"

Cassie's intake of breath interrupted my half-assed explanation. "Woah, Jason… too far. You're a hero now." she gasped, exaggeratedly loud. I rolled my eyes.

"Corny. Anyways, he was there for Sabah. 'Prolly to gang press her into becoming a nazi. Kinda ironic, in a fucked up way, considering she's a melanated queen."

She blushed at that, offering up a hesitant smile. "He's right. I refused their messed up offer months ago, and I guess they decided to knock out two birds with one stone. Thankfully Jason was the other bird."

I winked.

"… Right," Cassie hummed, shooting Sabah a considering look. "I'm not mad that you put Jay into danger, mainly because I know he's been itching to beat up some nazis for over a week now. That doesn't explain the absolute bullshit I saw you pull off in that footage though, mister."

Her gaze returned to me, and she fully sat up, straddling me backwards in order to poke a long fingernail directly through the exposed part of my shirt, right into my chest. The flesh didn't yield beneath her prodding, however, and she pouted. "What gives? I thought we were in this together? You know," Cassie's lip wobbled, and if it wasn't for my heightened insight I would've thought that she was actually torn-up about the whole thing. "Planning together? Going through your bullshit powers. Strategizing, as a team."

Sabah hesitantly raised her hand, and when we both turned to look at her she gave me a searching stare. "When we first met, you said that your main ability was 'golden energy constructs', with a few minor powers." A dry, amused smile formed on her full lips. "I'm guessing that was a lie?"

As I stared at her, the smile slowly wilted. She backtracked quickly, "If that is overestimating our current level of trust, then by all means-"

I raised a hand. "Nah, that's not it. I'm just wondering how to explain everything."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Come on big guy, it can't be that bad. We need to come up with a plan for the rest of the Empire, because knowing your crazy ass I'm betting you plan on taking the fight to them." She held up her hands and began counting down fingers.

"You had, let's see… the metal corroding power - that was new, the skull with the big ass lasers - fucking crazy awesome, that golden cage…"

"He also turned into some sort of flying serpent to bring us here," Sabah helpfully added, a gloved finger pressed against her bottom lip in thought. "Though he didn't exactly explain how it worked when asked."

"Okay, we're revisiting that later," Cassie muttered, eyes wide as she looked back at me. "What are we missing?"

I paused again, hesitant. "Well, I got a robot now." I offered weakly, scratching the back of my head.

"… A robot?" Sabah blinked, bemused.

"Show me." Cassie demanded.

Well, I had to admit - I was curious about it, too. Connecting my soul to the mote of light that came right after my fight with Hookwolf and Cricket, I allowed it to materialize on the living room floor right in front of the couch. At this point, our raging teenage hormones were mostly tamed - for now - and Cassie turned around in my lap in order to watch as flecks of white light suddenly materialized in thin air, whirling around like a sand devil before coalescing into…

A hovering white robot, complete with two sleek, mechanical arms and a little orange light on its head. Whatever it used to fly, the engine was completely silent as it 'stared' at us the same way we stared at it.

The air was quiet, almost cold, before two girlish voices exclaimed together, as one:

"Oh my gosh… !"

"IT'S SO FREAKING CUTE!"

Cassie was the one brave - or foolish - enough to actually lunge for the thing. I could've stopped her, but nothing in the Grimoire hinted that it would harm me in any way so I simply let the girl have her fun. Plus, on the less compassionate and empathetic side - I kinda wanted to see what it would do.

The hacker was bigger than the Pod, but not by a huge margin - if I had to guess, I'd say that the machine's body was about the size of my new girlfriend's torso. Her arms wrapped around it's rectangular metal chassis, and she squee'd as she rubbed her face against it.

"Can I keep him, Jay? Pleaseee!"

Sabah didn't say anything, but the hearts in her eyes said enough. If I got rid of it, there would be hell to pay. Primarily in the form of the silent treatment (Sabah) and no sex (Cass).

Just as I was about to respond, the Pod suddenly twitched, and Cassie gasped as it floated upwards another foot or so - taking her a few inches off the floor.

"Tactical Support Unit Pod 084, requesting authorization to remove humanoid lifeform identified as 'Chen Zhenyi' from this Pod's frame." Its voice was loud and clear, ringing robotically through the suddenly quiet living room.

There was enough abrupt, uncomfortable silence to fill a fucking blimp. A few things happened at once:

Cassie immediately let go of the Pod, scrambling to her feet with ashen and pale skin.

Sabah flinched, but didn't seem too perturbed - probably expecting a 'robot' to speak.

I, meanwhile… was confused. I'd expected it to speak, of course, but its words definitely threw me for a loop. Very important brain synapses refused to fire for a brief few seconds, and I glanced down at Cassie, who was staring at the floating robot with anger and puzzlement on her face.

"… Who the fuck is 'Chen Zhenyi?"

It wasn't until the question had already left my mouth did I realize how stupid and generically sitcom-coded it sounded.

Spoiler: Perks Rolled

Spoiler: Roll One(Accepted)

Archmage (TES: Magic - 400 CP): While there are many mages who are masters of their craft, with a skill and understanding of their chosen School that would be difficult to match, few are as suited for the role of Archmage as you. Your magicka reserves are, quite frankly, monstrous, which is not helped by the fact that they replenish at an incredible rate. Yet it is not just power, but your management skills which make you a fitting candidate. You could effectively manage an entire college, or even a province spanning guild, and keep it running efficiently almost single-handedly.

Second roll failed due to lack of CP.

150 CP remaining.

Spoiler: Author's Note

Pretty long chapter here - I'm gonna try out writing a bit less in the future so that I can more comfortably push 'em out. Sometimes I just get lost in the sauce, man. For real though, not much happened here but definite character/relationship development. For the people wondering about the little 'spanking' scene - believe it or not, in certain situations and with the right amount of charisma, you can get away with a lot around an acquaintance/stranger - and in some specific cases, like this one, they could even sorta kinda maybe be into it. Sabah's a lesbian, I feel I've made that pretty clear - but she likes dominance, she likes pretty girls with big butts, and she trusts Avalon a lot right now. It was a pretty small and chaste scene, but there will be butterflies. Potential threesome butterflies, later on.

The rolled perk here is similarly huge. Don't worry about his muted reaction to it right now - he's preoccupied, but Archmage-level mana increase is NOT a small boon. It will definitely be tried out soon.

New chapter for the should be up today or tomorrow! Sorry for the slow upkeep with those - it's a brand new business model for me, and I'm trying to figure out the best way to write so that I can consistently put out two chapters on there in order to get reviews/feedback before posting here.

Enjoy, comment and review, and I'll see ya'll next week! We'll be getting a look into Cassie's backstory, learn more about our new Pod overlord, and get a head start on Plan: Cull the Nazis.

Chapter 21

I felt like R. Kelly in Trapped in the Closet, minus the cornrows and midgets.

Cassie was staring up at the hovering Pod, I was staring at Cassie - or, I guess, Chen Zhenyi, and Sabah didn't know where to look. It was a pretty fucking awkward situation all around, and after my initial vocal blunder, I knew I had to be the one to break the awkwardness and save face… because who the fuck was Chen Zhenyi, if not my mysterious and bratty Asian girlfriend who'd never given me her last name? Whatever her reasons for keeping it under wraps, I didn't necessarily care or mind. Melodrama was one of my least favorite things in the world.

"Right. Fuck the suspenseful reveal for now, let's take a step back," I intervened, pushing myself up straight with a tired grunt. Sleep was beckoning, but there truly was no rest for the wicked. "No dropping private bombshells about my girlfriend, lil' buddy - at least not in front of her. Shit's not cool."

The robot's entire body shifted towards me at the mention of its name, and the light on its head flashed a cheerful green. "This Pod's default designation is Tactical Support Unit Pod 084, not 'Little Buddy'. However, as you are my sole -"

If it had plans to say anything else, Cassie's mental recovery quickly laid that to rest. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, taking a step forward and interrupting the machine by tapping it lightly on the front of its smooth metal chassis. It faltered in its mechanical words, some sort of inner servo whirring as it turned again to silently regard the petite hacker.

"Hold on a minute," she demanded, her nose wrinkling in adorable frustration as she squared off with the equally adorable robot. "I wanna know how you got that info, tin can. You come from Jay's ridiculously versatile Trump ability, right? Shouldn't you know as much as he does?"

Now that the cat was already out of the bag and splayed out in front of the whole crew, Cassie's previously ashen face was beginning to regain some of its color. That didn't lessen the scrunching of her eyebrows or the annoyed curiosity in her gaze.

Truthfully, it was probably difficult to stay panicked over something as boring as a birth name. Unless you were related to some super infamous killer. I'd probably be a bit skeevy if I was white and my surname was 'Dahmer'. Still, I couldn't think of any villain or criminal from Earth Bet with the last name 'Zhenyi', no matter how hard I thought about it. There were some Asian villains with names that weren't revealed in canon, but what were the fucking odds?

The Pod hovered there quietly for a moment, as if debating internally whether or not it wanted to answer the scowling girl. Hidden Intuition was itching at the back of my brain, subtly pointing me in the direction of where to go if I wanted things to go smoothly, and I didn't try to fight back or refuse the autonomous insight. I knew next to nothing about NieR or Drakengard, but it was obvious that this Pod was some sort of high-tech AI and that I was, for all intents and purposes, its owner.

I simply had to act like it.

"Pod," I frowned, causing both Cassie and the robot to turn in my direction, "Answer any question she asks you."

Its response, in contrast to the silence given to Cass, was immediate. "Affirmative. Inquiry: Are you sure you want me to answer every question? Confirmation is needed." The inflection in its robotic, monotonous voice didn't change, but even then, I could practically hear the warning in its tone. Literally - Hidden Intuition worked in very subtle, mysterious ways, and actual fucking 'warning bells' were going off in the back of my mind.

I still stuck to my guns.

"Why not?" I shrugged, a lazy smirk on my face. "If she asks something weird like 'would Jason still fuck me if I was a worm', just plead the fifth and keep it pushin'."

The Pod stared blankly.

"Mating with an invertebrate is physically impossible, and attempting to would most likely crush its body. Proposal: Do not mate with a worm." Its voice was completely serious. It was completely serious. That was fucking hilarious.

"Pfft!" Sabah sputtered off to the side, only to softly gasp and cover her mouth when my eyes shot over to her. A small, sheepish smile was on her lips when she brought her hands back down. "Sorry, that one got me. Continue."

"It wasn't funny," Cassie sniffed, shooting Sabah a reproachful glare - but any and all heat or negativity was sapped out of the gesture due to the twitching lips threatening to split her face into an amused grin. Desperate to deny me the pleasure, she returned her gaze stubbornly to the floating robot. "And you - answer my question. Did you outhack the hacker? Because them's fighting words, buddy! Or, actions… ugh, you get what I mean."

A considering look took over her narrow-eyed stare, and Cassie added, hesitantly. "And why'd you call me a 'humanoid' instead of a human?"

The Pod, who I decided to start referring to as '084' in my head, began floating around Cassie's body as it responded. "Your technology is unfamiliar, but close enough to what is currently in my data banks for me to access confidently. As I am a Support Unit Pod assigned to the one designated as 'Master', I am equipped to perform a wide variety of tasks, including but not limited to hacking, combat analysis, firing support, and informational correspondence."

Sabah blinked, slowly. "So… you outhacked the hacker?" She sounded genuinely impressed.

If a Pod could preen with pride, I liked to think that 084 did in that moment - but, in boring reality, the robot simply bobbed its body forward and back in an affirmative gesture. "Yes, this Pod is equipped with both technological and biological scanners. I detected your 'NuTek 8' and obtained your information from your saved billing information."

It looked back to the frowning Cass and finished, "Proposal: Strengthen your defenses."

I winced under my breath. "Damn ."

Cassie's face turned scarlet in embarrassment. She was a girl who prided herself in her abilities, especially after my little pep-talk a while back, and I could tell that the AI's 'proposal' bothered her. To my surprise and pride, however, she bit back whatever snide remark she had building in her head and cut straight to the next question. "And the 'humanoid' part?"

"My biometrics picked up anomalous data during its scan. Without the assimilation of more information regarding this world, I am unable to infer what is 'normal' and 'abnormal' here."

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "'This world'?"

I slowly nodded my head, understanding dawning on my face. I very specifically ignored the hacker's confused mutter. "Makes sense. You probably noticed the Corona Pollentia - it's a formation on the brain that sorta 'marks' you for a power-up. You're still a human, just… with the potential to gain superpowers - a lot of people got 'em. By the way, chill on the scanning as well… unless I tell you to. Some capes can probably pick up on that."

The knowledge was easy to rouse from the part of my brain that had hyper-fixated on Worm lore for a few weeks back in my former life - the way that Shards worked, and how annoying their entire existence was to the common man lacking in interdimensional expertise.

084 bobbed along to my words, probably storing everything that I was saying into some hyper futuristic memory card. "Administrative input accepted. This Pod will cease its biological scanning functionality until further commanded. I will stay here. Hovering."

Was that a trace of sarcasm I detected? Huh, maybe the little robot was interesting after all. "No need to be a smartass about it, Pod."

"Comment acknowledged. Rebuttal: I lack human anatomy, but I am indeed 'smart'."

I snorted.

Meanwhile, Sabah and Cassie were both staring at me like I was some sort of alien - which was funny, considering I probably was? I came from a different version of Earth unrelated to Worm entirely, so maybe in some strange way I was an alien lifeform. I definitely lacked the little fleshy addition in between my brain chunks.

"You never told me that you were a cape nerd," Cassie smirked, turning her gaze to meet mine. Judging by the sudden glow of intrigue on her face, that little factoid definitely won me some brownie points for later on. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I was a 'cape nerd' specifically - I actually disliked most of the capes in this fucked up world - but I'd be damned before I purposefully refused brownie points from a hottie.

"Yeah, well… the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma." I quoted flawlessly, offering a smug little smile.

Sabah giggled, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. The upturn in her eyes was obvious. "That's one way to phrase it…"

I shrugged easily. "I'm just built different."

Cassie rolled her eyes, her smirk widening into a fond grin. "You said that a week ago, and it still sounds as stupid as it did then. Now hush, let me finish my interrogation!"

"Yes ma'am."

Sabah quickly cut in before Cassie could continue her questions. "I don't want to interrupt - trust me, this is the most fun I've had with friends in a very long time, but…" she glanced up at the grandfather clock and winced a little, a disappointed frown pulling at her lips. "I have to get back to my dorm. It's getting late, and I have an eight AM class in the morning."

The frown momentarily pulled up into a joyless, thin smile. "University. Fun times."

I glanced up at the time as well. Sure enough, it was starting to push into 'very late' territory - the hands were reading 11 PM on the dot. "Damn, time kinda flew by."

"It did. Stupid frickin' adult responsibilities," Cassie pouted, brushing past my knees to wrap Sabah in a goodbye hug. "Stay safe on your way back, okay?"

The affectionate and touchy gesture clearly surprised the brown-skinned woman, but it did not stop her from smiling a more genuine smile and wrapping her arms around Cassie in turn. Side by side like that, I could see that they were roughly around the same height - Sabah probably being shorter by just a smidge.

When Sabah pulled away from the physically affectionate girl, there was a teasing glint in her eyes. "I will. Do not worry about me of all people, Cassie. I am not the one being punished." Amusement purred at the back of her calm, dulcet tone - something that Cass clearly picked up on, judging by the flash of heat that pooled in her face.

"Y-yeah, well the punishment is over and my butt isn't even bruised or anything, so…" She trailed off, turning to give me a 'subtle' challenging look, but I was already watching her with a crooked grin on my face. My eyes flashed down, raking her pert, hoodie-clad body from head to toe, before I returned my lidded gaze up to stare her straight in the eye. I didn't have to say anything - the intensity in that one look was all that was needed. Our night was far from over. Dramatic name drops and robotic overlords wouldn't stop this particular reckoning - a reckoning of the sweaty, sexual variety.

If she wanted a bruised ass, I would give her a bruise ass.

Cassie swallowed thickly.

"Mhm, sure." Sabah murmured dryly, raising a brow as she glanced between the two of us. "I will leave you two-, er, three to it, then. I hope to see you both again soon, preferably under less extenuating circumstances…" She stood, grabbing her mask from where it had been tossed on the couch. The little scratch from my clawed gauntlets embedded in the porcelain was the only evidence of the night's events.

I broke eye contact with Cassie first, standing quickly to my feet. "While I can appreciate the confidence, it really isn't safe. Let me give you a ride at least." I didn't have to explain my reasoning - Hookwolf was captured, and Downtown was probably crawling with Empire goons looking for Avalon and Parian.

Cass seemed to pull herself out of her own thoughts, shaking her head before frowning at Parian. "Right - let Jay take you home! I'm not too familiar with how the Empire works, but I doubt they're gonna just let you off now…"

Parian's eyes squinted, a telltale sign that she was frowning. "You may be right. My cape appearance isn't exactly common or subtle." She looked down at the blonde wig and porcelain mask, silent for a few beats. "It isn't that I do not want to take you up on your offer - the flying was fun. I just feel… bad, taking up so much of your time. I do not want to be a-"

"Damsel?" Cassie guessed, cutting her off. At Parian's bewildered glance, she let out a loud snort. "Jay has a tendency to make you feel that way. Don't try to fight it - let the big, strong man help if he wants to help. It's less demeaning that way."

"Aye yo," I cut in, affronted. Since when did I become Captain Save a Ho? "I'm all for women equality! If it makes you feel better, I can chase you around a lil' bit before sweepin' you up and flying you back to your dorm. Make it seem like you got kidnapped instead of saved. You can add in a few screams and shit, make it a whole thing."

Parian's stare turned blank. "Jason, what are you-… Ah, right, I sometimes forget how your sense of humor works." A deep, bemused sigh escaped her chest.

"That a yes?"

She sighed, but gratitude coated her words. "Yes. Um, not to the 'kidnapping' thing, j-just to the 'taking me home' portion. I would feel safer having you there."

Cassie clapped her hands quickly, an abrupt excitement to her movement and voice that was definitely not there before. "Great! Babe, show her a good time. I'm talking aerial 360s, the scenic route, heh - maybe even stop for a bite to eat. Preferably not Downtown."

"Ah, are you sure? I know that Jason has a… peculiar personality, but I do not want to make anything, hm, weird between us. I am-"

"I know you're, like, super gay. He's not the only one with a gaydar, and mine's even more souped up since I'm bi. Trust me, I don't mind-"

I zoned out the girls' conversation as I observed Cassie, focusing entirely on her body language. My enhanced perception easily picked apart the hacker's odd behavior, noting the dilated pupils, the 'sneaky' glances towards the silently hovering Pod that was simply observing the conversation, all combined with her obsession with programming, hacking, and anything technology-based. Cassie wanted to mess around with my new robot, maybe grill it for some tips and tricks like a 2016 Youtube video, figure out what made it tick. That… actually worked out pretty well, considering I'd been planning to have it supplement her as my intel and espionage support.

Considering her Tinker specialty, I couldn't even begin to imagine the things they could manage. Hell, 084 could probably make Dragon of all… things? People? Sweat a little bit. Regardless, having them think-tanking together when Operation 'Cull the Nazis' was coming to a head would only be good for me. I give her sneaky little meddling a ten outta ten.

Not wanting to tip her off that I was aware of her plans, I refocused back on the yapping chicks and clicked my teeth loudly.

They immediately quietened, Cassie doing so with a frown - probably due to me rudely interrupting her mid-sentence.

"My bad." I apologized, offering her an unapologetic smile.

She snorted, the frown twitching. "Dick."

"Soon. Now, before ya'll get tied down by another random ass subject…"

It was Parian's turn to frown at me. "We were discussing 'gaydars' and if they're actually real."

"Exactly - random. Before you end up spending the night and missing your morning class, we should head out - we can stop by a bodega on the way, grab some chips or something."

I made my way around the couch, grabbing the outer-coat of my costume and tossing it over my shoulders like a cloak. Everything was magically absorbed into my body whenever I transformed anyway, but I still strapped my mask to the upper left part of my face. The light weight was familiar and comforting, in spite of me only having had the costume for a few hours now.

"Oh yeah!" Cassie's eyes lit up, and she chanced another glance up at the Pod. "Stay safe and hurry back. But not too fast - I have, er… a bad tummy ache. I might be pregnant. Brrr."

She was actually a truly, truly horrible liar. I would've been disgusted by the pure lack of talent if she hadn't already captured my heart and made me fall in the span of seven days.

"Riiight," I commented drily, gesturing to the door and eyeing Parian. "Let's go."

"Okay. I'll see you later, Cassie - and congratulations on the baby!"

"Uh, yeah, totally. Thanks."

"Don't enable her."

Parian giggled quietly. "Sorry."

And as we swept out of the room, heading out into the darkness of Brockton Bay, I could see through my Second Sight - because of course she'd forgotten about that little ability - Cassie instantly getting right into 084's personal bubble and barraging him with whispered inquiries. I couldn't hear what was being said, but as the door closed behind me I could see her trying - and failing - to yank him towards the stairs.

I chuckled to myself.

"You do realize that she's going to hyperfixate on that thing all night, right?" Parian asked me, amused, as I was shutting the large, heavy steel door that sealed the Sanctum to the outside world.

"Yep."

"You're not worried about the nosy hacker pulling apart some hyper advanced robot from another world?"

"… Nope."

My transformation came through more subtly now, in the silent stillness of the night. Within moments, a twelve foot long serpent with feathers as black as the sky above was slithering around Parian's petite form.

The woman watched me, curiosity and a tempered, more patient frustration burning in her gaze.

"The inner machinations of your mind, right?" she murmured, smiling softly before sliding her mask and wig back on. Whether or not she was expecting a response was moot, considering I couldn't do anything but hiss and trill in my quetzalcoatl form. Fortunately she seemed to understand, as she immediately swung around to slide along my back - right between the massive wings that marked me as a decidedly unnatural creature.

Her masked face buried itself in my back, and her gloved hands gripped my plumage tightly. Like before, I could feel one long, writhing string of silk tighten around my body and hers, pressing her form securely against mine. We were ready for take-off.

I let out a low, warbling whistle as the powerful and slender muscles in my serpentine body began wiggling, shooting me into the sky at what had to be at least sixty miles per hour. As graceful and womanly as she attempted to appear, not even the roaring winds of the sky could hide her childlike whoop of joy and fear as I upped my speed, quickly approaching the dark, fluffy gray clouds above.

"Wooooo!"

First stop? The bodega on King's Street. May God have mercy on any nazi who decides to interrupt my midnight snacking time, because I sure as hell won't.

Twenty Minutes Later…

Zhenyi Chen, or 'Cassie' as she preferred to go by nowadays, shot a heated glare at the annoying, artificially intelligent robot hovering beside her workspace. She knew, logically, that being frustrated with a creation that was literally created to be smarter than her for being smarter than her was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it! Pride ran in her veins, much deeper than blood ever did, and although she wasn't as smart or accomplished as some people in her dysfunctional family was, she still had her moments.

She just could not figure out how it was doing the things it was doing. Coding, like Jason said before, was sorta like a real world's equivalent to magic, but this Pod… it made it actually seem like real fucking magic. It wasn't making any sense to her, and that was what pissed her off. Already, it had broken through the five different firewalls and IDS that she'd personally set up for her computer system - at her request, of course.

"See, look at this one right here. How would you avoid being found out, burned out, and backtraced when they're using fucking modified Saturn v6 software for their firewall? I've been trying to crack it for days." she frowned, biting her lip as she twisted her fourth monitor and pointing at the amalgamation of green code crawling down the screen at a breakneck pace.

That was the thing about her specific type of hacking - even though she couldn't possibly keep up with the amount of data that came with breaking through more secure net defenses, her programs could. Already, her Ice Pick app was doing its best to autonomously feel along the more 'structured' protections, deadening whistles and defensive switches and highlighting vulnerabilities that she could and would take advantage of remotely, all in the joint effort to invade and access the desired data network.

The problem was, there were so many fucking bugs and traps littered around the subnet that whenever she managed to squeeze in even slightly, her app blared warnings at her and she had to retreat and start all over again.

Fuck Coil and his ridiculous net security. Maybe she shouldn't have bothered taking that shady job to crack and bug his local area network. At this point, it didn't even matter that Cassie's client had somehow found a way to slip her personally tinkered little phishing chips into one of the villain's wifi-powered appliances - getting a foothold in the network itself was next to impossible!

It wasn't as if she was unused to infiltrating criminals, either. Ali Baba, the anonymous hacker forum she used to take small jobs, often had her playing the role of 'network vigilante'; it was why she was so ready and eager to help Jason out with his own vigilantism.

Hacking a supervillain, though? And one of the biggest ones in Brockton Bay? It had been something accepted on a whim, while she was still coasting along on the high of having someone as amazing as her boyfriend believing in her ability as a Tinker. Already, she was regretting it… but her pride was burning with fervor.

Cassie only hoped that the 'tactical support unit' Pod could help her out, even if it was only a little. Twenty five grand would go far with gathering resources to take out the Empire permanently. She knew from personal experience that simple brute force wasn't enough to root out a large gang completely and utterly, and that there would always be more hurt if you simply left it at that. She was hoping that Jason saw it the same way she did before stomping at the hornet's nest again.

They had to plan, if not tonight then tomorrow, before shit really kicked off.

"Master has given me orders to only answer your questions and hover. This Pod has answered all of your questions so far. However, my understanding of this world's network defenses is insufficient to instruct you efficiently." The Pod's tinny voice suddenly rang out from where it had been silently observing the sprawling code.

Cassie blinked. "There's that terminology again - 'this world'. Do you come from one of the other Earths or something?" Her eyes widened, and she glared suspiciously. "Did Jay pull you from your creator?"

The light on its head flashed a bright, firetruck red. "Negative. This Pod was created to assist the human designated as 'Master' with all goals, no matter the scale. Master is my creator." Despite the emotionless inflection in its words, the Pod seemed oddly stalwart about its role.

"So what do you mean by 'this world'?"

"… Further information is inaccessible. This is Tactical Support Unit Pod 084. Control is assigned to the human designated as 'Master'."

Cassie tilted her head. "Huh, a loop. Guess whatever bullshit Trump power that decided to create you don't want super cool girls asking too many questions."

"Master is my creator."

She waved him off, curiosity abated for now. "Uh-huh. Screw it, then - help me figure out this asshole's defense system."

"My understanding of this world's network defenses is insufficient to assist you efficiently."

Cassie snorted. "You hacked through all of my stuff pretty damn efficiently, tin can, and my firewalls are leagues ahead of what he's working with."

"Acknowledged. Query: Why do you not do it yourself?"

"Ugh, because I can't! At least, not without exposing my involvement and possibly getting a supervillain on my ass. I'm a programmer first and foremost, hacking's just… a side gig. It's fun."

"Proposal: You should give this Pod access to more data relating to this world's network infrastructure and 'villainous capes'. This way, I can instruct and assist more efficiently."

She blinked. Why hadn't she thought of that before? If the Pod was running on basically no data about Earth Bet entirely, not even knowing what a parahuman was, then giving it access to the fucking internet would be like giving the notes of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' to a grandmaster pianist! Her specialty wasn't on AI - or, at least, she'd never… tried to create or program one or anything, but how much harder could teaching one be?

Cassie swiveled in her chair, excitement speeding up her movements as she opened another compiling application. Her mind was abuzz with code, guiding her fingers perfectly from one key to the next. She generally liked to make apps on her phone, but there was no veritable difference between utilizing a computer and her mobile device. In this case, she needed a bigger canvas.

"Alright!" she grinned, the eerie glow of her widescreen monitor reflecting off of her irises, "One 'Earth Bet Kitchen Sink' program coming right up! You have an, uh… interfacing port or something, right? It would help me parse the raw data into something you can process more quickly."

The Pod hovered quietly. "Affirmative. However, you lack the authority to access my mainframe."

She clicked her teeth. "Of course. Well, I'm sure you have enough RAM installed in that big, adorable head of yours to absorb enough data to help me out with my little hacking problem, even without interfacing directly with my computer. Let's see… yeah, let's start with PHO. They have way too much information on parahumans…"

Fortunately, creating a program as simple as this one was almost laughably easy. A few minutes later, and the Kitchen Sink was already filtering through and collecting every bit of information from PHO - minus any private data that she would've had to butt heads against Tin_Mother for. That chick was almost definitely a hacking Tinker, herself, or just ridiculously talented.

084 hovered closer to the monitor, the whirring inside of its metal body becoming almost imperceptibly louder. Clearly it was already starting to filter through the sprawling pages of cape information and news. Thousands upon thousands of words scrolled down one of the other monitors, leaving the screen with the compiler free. A good thing, considering she was already moving onto another source to pull into the kitchen sink. Maybe the PRT's stuffy website? "Hm…"

"… Query: What is 'shipping'?"

Cassie, preoccupied with her work, offered a noncommittal grunt. "Cringy stuff that I definitely don't do. Why?"

"Because it is happening to Master. Footage of his battle at the mall was revealed on the forums, and 'Avalon x Purity' is trending."

…

Her fingers stopped their tap dancing along her pink keyboard, and Cassie swung her neck around so fast that whiplash almost sent her down on her ass. "What?!"

084 bobbed its little body back and forth, almost distractedly. "This Pod will repeat its previous observation: Footage of his battle at the mall was-"

"D-damn it, I heard you the first time! Why Purity?!"

"Unknown. This Pod is not familiar with the term 'raceplay'."

"… HUH?!"

Cassie almost chipped a nail in her haste to traverse back to PHO, scrolling rapidly to the depths of the Brockton Bay subforums to find the mucky, plague-ridden, downvoted threads that housed the internet's weirdest subgroup.

Sure enough, one of the first entries she found was labeled 'Pavalon: Star-Crossed Lovers?'. She cracked her knuckles, a resolute light shining in her eyes.

"The work of the Coolest Moderator is never over."

And it was then, in the midst of filling an Artificial Intelligence with droves of data of questionable content, that 'ScriptKitty69' forcibly unsuspended herself from PHO in order to assist Tin_Mother in doggedly banning and suspending the weirdos who were already making obscene, racially-motivated comments, threads, and fanart about the new handsome black hero with a clear bone to pick with the white supremacists of the Bay.

At some point, she was actually banned after being discovered… and 084 erased the ban as if it had never happened, after multiple requests from Cassie that was definitely not begging.

For those online, who witnessed the very odd and uncomfortable PHO Shipping War of 2011, it was a very… confusing night.

Meanwhile, in Sabah's Dorm Room…

"Shit, these chips are actually hittin'. The name sounded so nasty, too… 'Keebler's Crunch'. Bleh."

Sabah nodded her head sleepily, a half-eaten bag of chips lying on the nightstand beside her bed. She was already in her night clothes, a full body black gown that clung to her shapely curves and sizable chest, but like the gentleman that she knew he wasn't, Jason hadn't gawked at her once. He sat on the windowsill, the cool night breeze ruffling his hair and providing a nice, distant ambience of cars and machinery, just the way she liked it.

Now, if only he would leave and let her get some sleep! They'd been lucky enough that her roommate was apparently not on campus tonight, otherwise their dynamic window entrance would've been a lot more dramatic.

"They're alright," she yawned, snuggling deeper into her ridiculously soft blanket. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

He glanced down at his wrist, as if checking an invisible watch. "… Nah, I'll give 'em a little bit more time. I can dip if you want me to, though - go check out the rest of campus."

The thought of him wandering, in full costume, around Brockton Bay University at midnight was just funny enough to have her giggle half-deliriously. Exhaustion was pulling at her eyelids. "No, it's okay. Just…" Yawn. "Behave, please. And stay silent."

It helped that his presence genuinely made her feel safer. And warm. There was a reason why she opted for a roommate, even though there'd been singles available.

She couldn't see his face when he responded, considering the darkness of the room and the fact that her eyes were fluttering closed, but the amusement coloring his deep voice was evident. "Sure, I can do that."

…

Sabah sighed. Exhaustion beckoned, but sleep refused to take hold.

Jason chuckled. "Want me to read you a bedtime story?" The slightly babyfied tone in his voice would've been grating to anyone else, but Sabah wasn't as simpleminded - she was fairly insightful, and she knew that the little vestiges of jackassery he did was an instinctive ploy to get a reaction. It wasn't for the sake of attention, he just… found it amusing.

So she went against the grain.

"Yes, I'd love one."

Another pause; a pregnant one, this time. Sabah took that as a win.

He cleared his throat.

"'Ight, cool. This is a story my ma used to tell me to put me to sleep. It goes like this…"

Sabah closed her eyes again, prepared to be lulled to sleep by her new friend's chocolate-like voice.

"The cats nestle close to their kittens now.

The lambs have laid down with the sheep.

You're cozy and warm in your bed, my dear.

Please go the fuck to sleep."

She resisted the urge to sigh, laugh, and cry - all at the same time. Maybe it was a loss after all.

Spoiler: Perks Rolled

Roll One: Not Enough CP. Roll Two: Not Enough CP.
350 CP remaining.

Spoiler: Author's Note

If you spot the little hint about Cassie's family here, cheerios to you!

Next chapter is already posted on the ! I'll see you all Friday for the next release! As always, hit me with your comments, reviews, thoughts, all of that. Things start to escalate a bit more very soon.

Chapter 22

"So let me get this straight…"

My finger began tapping a steady, quiet rhythm against my crossed forearms. I wasn't angry, in spite of my carefully cooled and monotonous tone of voice. Well, maybe I was a little bit, but it wasn't all-encompassing. If what she told me was correct, her little sidequest had went off without a hitch with the assistance of Pod 084, and I was hardly the type of boyfriend to be like 'you need to tell me everything you're doing at all times', but this was motherfucking Coil we were talking about.

Wasn't handling the nazis enough? Did we really have to throw more food on our plate? It was half past midnight and I was tired - couldn't we wait 'till the morning, at least?

"You were hired, anonymously, by some random person on 'Ali Baba . com' to hack Coil of all people and bug his communications? All for twenty five grand?"

Cassie's eyes were downcast, her lower lip trembling a bit as she pulled her knees up to her chest and looked away from me. "… And his emails, instant messages sent via wifi, and when he uses his bluetooth coffee machine…" she murmured morosely.

My left eye twitched.

Right, I wasn't mad. If anything, I was impressed since Coil was a paranoid, slippery fuck that was, quite honestly, worse than a cockroach. Still, without 084 around it was possible that something bad could've happened while she was traipsing through his digital network like a wildcat. The dude casually hired mercenaries and equipped them with state of the art Tinkertech guns that shot lasers - what were the odds that his computers weren't similarly souped up with Shard-empowered fuckery?

Probably pretty high.

My gaze switched to Pod 084, who was… just hovering over Cassie's shoulder.

"You got anything to say for yourself?"

"Negative. I did as directed by you and answered all of Cassie's questions."

A wry smirk began to pull on my lips, and I glanced at the pouting girl. "And she just so happened to ask some very specific questions, eh?"

"Some of her questions involved hacking into the network of the supervillain 'Coil', mysterious criminal mastermind that holds territory in Downtown Brockton Bay."

I blinked slowly, looking between the two. Cassie blushed a little.

"084 needed more data to cross-reference his own capabilities with the tech here on Earth Bet, so I just… pew pew'd." She awkwardly and gingerly made shooting gestures towards the floating robot, and it responded by hovering a little further away.

"You shot it?" I raised an eyebrow.

"No! I made a program to funnel a bunch of information from the internet into one location for him to download." Cassie's pout became even more pronounced, and the sight of her bottom lip puckered out reminded me of the whole 'sweaty hot sex' thing that had been building up, before all of this happened. The reminder took the rest of the air outta my sails, replacing it with tiredness and heat. Damn her for having such a fuckable-looking mouth.

I sighed, stilling my incessant tapping and uncrossing my arms. Cassie twitched when I drew close, silently watching until I was practically standing over her.

"Put your arms up," I murmured quietly, my voice still tired and monotonous.

I could practically see the gears whirring in her head, confusion and embarrassment colliding in the scrunching of her face, but Cassie obediently raised her arms above her head like a good girl. I moved quickly, picking her up like a koala bear and holding her against my chest with one arm. The other moved to help lower me down into the comfortably warm leather swivel chair that my girlfriend was previously occupying.

"O-oh!" Cassie yelped when I plopped down, her thighs clenching around mine as the soft, warm spot between her legs collided with something much more firm. Her previously despondent face shifted instantly, the dusting of red on her cheeks conflagrating into scarlet when she looked up from our joined bodies and caught me staring straight into her eyes. "Jason…?" she murmured, puzzled and soft, her lidded gaze dipping down to my lips.

There was electricity in the room, a constant static jolt that shot through my brain and muscles, pressing me to fall to more base needs and fuck this pouty, submissive bitch into the floor.

And holy shit was it strong.

It was so strong, that I was actually thankful for getting cock-blocked by our new Pod friend. I doubted that Cassie's computer desk would have been able to keep up with my recent sex drive, and we still had real shit to talk about

"Report: This Pod has finished analyzing the data given to it on Earth Bet. Compiling possible strategies and countermeasures for different parahumans denoted as 'villainous' in the Parahuman Response Team's warning page and the Parahumans Online wikipedia."

It whirled around, facing the two of us fully. "Proposal: Eliminate the lieutenants of the Empire Eighty-Eight as soon as possible."

There was nothing like the sound of a robotic, masculine-voiced AI to cool the fire in your loins. Ignoring Cassie's annoyed sigh, and the associated minty breeze against my face, I swiveled in the chair in order to face the hovering Pod. "Already on my shit list, homie - Hookwolf's down and getting prepped for the Birdcage, Cricket's probably headed to big girl prison, and…"

"The rest of the Empire's gonna be pushing to pop their head attack dog free," Cassie finished quietly, a frustrated yearning clear in her gaze before she wiggled off of my lap. Before I could complain about the lack of warmth, she did this awkward little half-skip that she does whenever she was aroused and embarrassed about it, and moved over to her desk. Immediately, she began typing into the console, her fingers sliding over the keys like some sort of musician.

"084, activate the Ice Pick 2.0 and prep access into the PRT's recent correspondence on Hookerwolf's capture. We need to see when they're gonna be moving him."

I blinked, watching owlishly from my reclined position.

The Pod moved with purpose, quickly floating over to another computer tower and resting on top of it. The screen attached to said tower abruptly flickered on, words flashing down the monitor at a speed that even I would be hard-pressed to follow.

"Ice Pick 2.0 Program engaged. Accessing classified information, data breach initiated in 10, 9, 8-"

It was almost like she could feel my bewildered and inquisitive stare in the back of her head. Cassie turned around, flashing me a teasing, toothy grin. "084 gave me a few pointers on how to improve my programs. Watch and learn, hotshot."

… God, she was sexy when she was illegally accessing sanctioned government secrets.

"-2, 1. This Pod has assisted the Ice Pick 2.0 in breaching the PRT's database. Approximately 16 defense mechanisms were disabled temporarily. Proposal: Gather the necessary information quickly."

The click-clacking of her keyboard increased in volume. "Nice! Alright, let's see here - downloading the emails between 'Deputy Director Renick' and 'Chief Warden Amaya' at the Baumann Parahuman Containment Center'. It's not too many, thank god. Suits drone on and on and it's so annoying."

I scooched a little closer in my chair, glancing past her shoulder to look at the screen, but my understanding of code was limited to Microsoft Visual Studio and the two years of Computer Science that I completely flunked out of in college. Long story short, the letters on her screen were better off being ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics to me.

A few seconds later, Cassie let out a high-pitched cackle and pressed one final thing - the 'Enter' key - with dramatic aplomb. Judging by the scuff mark and worn paint on that one specific key, this was probably a common occurrence. "Hehe, finished. Patch it back up, Pod!"

"Affirmative. Commencing Program 'Back-Alley Cleanup'."

When Cassie turned to me, a bead of sweat on her forehead and a proud grin on her face, I had only one burning question living at the forefront of my mind. Well, two, but one was much more important than the other. "First question… Why 'back-alley cleanup'?"

She blinked. "It's a super cool name, right? Sounds shady and mysterious, like a proper hacker-ninja."

"It sounds raunchy and murderous," I remarked dryly, before cracking a crooked smile. "But I fuck with it. Second question; since when did my 'hacker ninja' girlfriend become partners in crime with my robot assistant?"

Cassie turned back to her computer and started sliding things across monitors - email archives, I realized after a cursory glance. "After you left to drop Sabah off, we started talking - or, I started asking him a lot of questions. About hacking, programming, code… he's the first Artificial Intelligence I've ever met! Of course I got curious."

There was a twinge of nervousness in her voice now, warbling beneath the thin veneer of confidence and 'coolness' that she often tried to use as a shield. She was probably worried that I'd be, what - annoyed? Jealous? Insecure that she was utilizing the little buddy more efficiently than I could?

Hidden Intuition was saying that it was all three.

I chuckled warmly. "I'm not blamin' you, silly girl. And I wasn't pissed at you before, just… concerned. I don't get mad that easily - 'least not at the people I care about."

Something eased in her shoulders - a drawn tenseness that was as clear to my eyes as anything else. "Okay…" she murmured, a small smile in her voice. Her fingers began clicking and dragging again. "A-anyways, it turns out that he can interface with my Tinker programs and juice 'em up! I'm not too sure how it works to be honest, but the syntax gets modified, changing some of the code into… what'd you call it again, Pod?"

"Angelic, an ancient language that this Pod- this Pod-… This Pod apologizes, but further information is inaccessible."

Cassie sighed. "Yep, same thing as before. Still, this 'Angelic' script, whatever it is, seems to make my software work at a higher level, almost just… like magic. Straight up efficiency increases across the board. Whatever it is, it definitely beats Python." She snorted a bit at some inside code-geek joke, but I was too busy analyzing this 'angel' code that she was referencing.

The characters were littered throughout the console window that she was looking at, and much more common in the one that 084 was manning. They looked a little like… the Latin alphabet? Or the Unown from Pokemon; Regardless, seeing them didn't trigger any memory, so I shrugged and wheeled away. Whatever it was, it probably had something to do with the world that 084 was pulled from - and if it was enhancing Cassie's specific type of Tinkertech, I'd trust that it was a good thing. The Sanctum was made to cancel out and dissipate any magical bullshit that was harmful to those living inside, after all - the code probably would've been erased if it was magical bomb commands.

"Whatever it is," I smirked, swiveling the chair in a 360 and slapping Cassie's ass with a loud 'smack' on my second spin, "Keep it up you two."

She jumped and yelped at the sharp sensation, but the smoldering glare that she threw over her shoulder was heated in a completely different way. "Just you wait, asshole. That butt is mine."

"Sure," I said easily, before gesturing towards the emails. "But for right now; What's the schedule lookin' like? How much time 'till they muzzle and pack up the mutt?"

"Mm," Cassie bit her lip, her smoldering glare intensifying, before she swished around to analyze her screens again. How she managed to keep over six monitors placed perfectly on top of each other was a complete and utter mystery to me. "Let's see… going off of the correspondence, the time table is still in the air until they can get transportation hard confirmed."

I frowned. "Pretty useless."

"Pfft- it's been like five hours, Jay. They do have talks in the work of expediting the process, though - this 'Renick' guy is pushing for February 2nd due to the possibility of the Empire springing a premature break before the week's out, and he's pushing pretty hard. Routes and personnel haven't been discussed just yet…"

"How hard would it be to get back in and grab more information in, say, a couple days? Knowing what route they're planning and what sorta security I'll have to deal with would be helpful."

Cassie hummed below her breath. "The Cleanup program leaves a data marker behind - not anything that can be picked up normally, but just something I can pick up on with my own stuff to resume in the same spot I was in last time."

"Like a save point," I muttered, impressed.

"Exactly!" The excitable Tinker grinned. "It should be a piece of cake, especially with 084 helping me out."

The Pod whirred agreeably. "Affirmative. Proposal: Master should assign Cassie administrative control over this Pod. The previous 68 minutes have been very informative and efficient, and giving Cassie access to this Pod's mainframe would increase our usefulness to Master."

That threw me for a loop; not because I was against it or anything, but because 084 sounded almost… excited about the work? Which wasn't entirely impossible, since it was an AI and AI were probably able to feel artificial emotions when given certain stimulus. Still, work as a stimulant was a bit odd - but then again, I was a lazy individual and my idea of fun was having sex, playing video games, and most recently, fucking up assholes.

Hacking wasn't on that list.

"Alright," I said simply, turning to the Pod and speaking clearly and loudly. "Pod 084, Cassie is hereby granted administrative privileges. Give her access to your fucking 'mainframe' or whatever, you dirty bastard." I grinned.

Cassie was staring, her eyes wide. "Wait, really?" she asked softly, naked surprise coating her face. "You-you're giving me a freaking AI?!"

"Not giving," I snorted, rolling forward to boop her on the nose. It wrinkled instinctively. "Coparenting. It's our baby now."

"Refusal: This Pod is not a baby-"

"Eeeee!"

Cassie lunged through the air like a particularly adorable bullet, glomping the hovering Pod and knocking one of her powered-down monitors to the ground. My form flickered, and I appeared right beside the desk, casually catching the neck of the widescreen monitor with a booted foot.

It was a testament to the Pod's own strength and durability that it didn't dip down even an inch when Cassie's entire upper body wrapped around its chassis, her legs dangling towards the ground. The orange light on its 'head' flashed a bright green, which I took as a… good thing?

"We're gonna kick so much fricking ass, 084! The dark sorceress and her trusty familiar. Ooh, we gotta get some spray paint too. I can make that boring old gray pink and black. Maybe some blue on the wires?"

"This Pod did not agree to a redesign, Mistress."

"Eeee! You call me Mistress now, too?"

"Referring to Mistress as 'Cassie' when deployed in dangerous territory would be foolish."

"No, no, I like it. Makes me feel powerful. I wonder if I can override Jay's designation and have you call him 'Dickbutt'…"

I flexed my ankle, flicking my foot upwards and sending the computer monitor leaping upwards a few feet, like a soccer ball. My strength, it felt like, was growing everyday I challenged myself, whether it was mentally, physically, or even emotionally. My body felt surer than it ever had, I felt more in control of every minute bodily moment than ever before, and catching the airborne screen by its 'neck' and placing it on the desk felt as simple as placing a can of soda in the fridge.

"Try it and you're divorced." I turned back to the only other two 'people' in my 'team'. Cassie was still clinging to 084, who was simply hovering six or so feet in the air and accepting the added weight. "Now, back to the previous topic."

She tilted her head. "The emails? I can check through the back door again, but-"

"No," I frowned, tapping my finger against the desk's smooth wooden surface. "Coil, and what we're gonna do about him. And the Empire, after we take out their heavy hitters - 'cause I know that Kaiser's bitch ass won't be coming to pop out Hookwolf."

Cassie's face became pensive. She let go of 084, falling somewhat gracefully back onto her feet. "The Coil situation is handled, remember? We bugged his network - I just gotta send the program over to the client, and that's 25 grand in our laps."

Right, the client. A client that just so happened to possess the ability to enter Coil's base, unimpeded, and slip a Tinkertech chip into his bluetooth coffee machine. The same client that wanted access to the man's entire information infrastructure for some mysterious, unexplained reason. That client.

In other words, Lisa Wilbourn - the same foxy blonde I met a few days ago at the pawnshop. Like Hell I was giving that specific bundle of drama and smugness all of Coil's secrets on a silver platter. I didn't hate her, or even dislike her all that much, but I didn't necessarily… like her? I definitely didn't trust her. If she had contacted my Cassie in canon, off-screen, it was possible that Cassie failed at her task, got tracked down by Coil's mercs, and killed in cold blood. That Cass didn't have the assistance of a high tech Tactical Support Unit from NieR.

What would change, now that Cassie actually succeeded? What could Lisa do with all of that juicy information? With the man's bank accounts? His secret identity?

Probably something suitably big-brained enough to get out from under his thumb. Or she could fuck up and trigger some unforeseen event that laid me out on my ass due to lack of information.

I wasn't willing to take those chances. Coil was an issue, the Empire was an issue, and honestly, in the midst of all this, I no longer cared too much about the Merchants. They were roaches, but I could always spray 'em out later on.

For now…

"New plan," I grunted, moving over to Cassie's keyboard and opening up a new Google Document. A few keyboard clicks later, and I gestured for her to come over.

She did so, eyeing me warily. 084 hovered overhead.

"… Plan: Downtown Domination?" The confusion was audible in her voice.

I smiled thinly, and wrote a few more lines beneath the header.

Step One: Fuck the Empire in the ass.

Step Two: Brutally murder Coil in the ass.

Step Three: Occupy Downtown territory.

"Jason," Cassie said slowly, hesitantly. "You do realize that they'll probably see you as some sort of villain obsessed with power if you start pushing hard like this, right? Not to mention, owning like half of the Bay's territory will be next to impossible, even for someone with powers as bullshit as yours…" Despite the hesitance in her voice, however, I could tell that she wasn't necessarily against my ridiculously short plan. Just concerned.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Hear me out first."

"Okay."

"Brockton Bay is fucked." The statement, as casual and dismissive as it came out, was deathly serious. When Cassie rolled her eyes and went to look back at the monitor, I lightly gripped her chin and brought her gaze back up to mine.

She frowned, bemused. "I know it is, Jay, but how-"

"Do I plan to unfuck it?" A sardonic, vaguely self-deprecating grin began to pull at the thin smile on my lips. "I don't know. I'm not good at planning ten steps ahead, or being the chessmaster making plays from the shadows. Shit, I don't even care too much about 'making the Bay great again', or anything super generous like that."

"Then why this plan? What happened to just beating the nazis and trying to survive? Being cleared by the PRT?" Her questions were soft, yet guided - Cassie had an inkling of an idea on where I was going with this, the smartass, but she wanted me to lay it all out for her.

So I did. I let go of her chin, my clawed gauntlet tapping a dull melody against my pants leg as I began to pace the room.

"Because shit's not as simple as I thought it was a few days ago. You know it, I know it - I just didn't wanna take that responsibility on my back, because I'm inherently a lazy and selfish dude. But… letting Brockton Bay implode and go to Hell because I decided to ring a big ass dinner bell for every hungry villain group in the East Coast is the bitch way out, and while I am lazy and selfish, I'm definitely not a bitch."

"So," Cassie muttered, head moving left and right as she watched me pace back and forth. "You plan on dismantling the Empire and Coil's group, killing the leaders, and claiming Downtown as your territory all because… you're not a bitch?"

I stopped pacing, clenching and unclenching my fists in order to cease the incessant tapping, and nodded. Once. "Yeah."

She let out a loud, drawn-out sigh. "I don't even know what I expected from you." Weary amusement and fondness was laden heavily in her suddenly tired voice, and she collapsed back into the computer chair.

"Excellence. Showboating. The occasional overreach that ends with me getting humbled every decade or two." I grinned like a loon. It felt… nice, to have a more solid plan in mind. As chaotic and spontaneous as said plan was.

"Question is, hotshot, how are just the three of us gonna occupy roughly half of a huge city, already on the verge of collapsing to gang violence?"

That was… a good question. With my Archmage perk, I was pretty damn confident at leading and managing a guild that spanned a whole fucking country, nonetheless half an East Coast city, but guilds usually had members.

I just had a bratty Tinker, an adorable robot, and infinite magical potential.

'… Huh,' I thought, my grin turning crooked and smarmy. 'Maybe it won't be as hard as I thought.'

Cassie's nose wrinkled at my expression. "Blech, you're doing it again babe! No kidnapping independent heroes and forcing them to be your minions!"

"Proposal: Create powerful androids with absolute loyalty installed in their software, and use them to form an army capable of-"

"No! And no killer robots, either!"

"Affirmative. Disappointment raised by five point two percent."

"Pfft!" My loud, wildly amused cackles echoed throughout the entire Sanctum.

The Celestial Grimoire gently offering me a 'Rat Repelling Statue', of all things, shifted the loud cackles quite solidly into 'maniacal' territory.

Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day catching up, or the relief of settling with an actual long-term goal, but I felt free. Free and invincible.

The mind blowing, bed-breaking sex Cass and I had afterwards only heightened that feeling.

'Assholes of Brockton Bay, mark your fucking calendars. A black, exceedingly handsome reckoning is coming, and its name is Avalon.'

Spoiler: Perks Rolled

Rat-Repelling Statue - 200 CP (Declined): You have a small cat statue that somehow, without any visible power source, constantly produces ultrasonic sounds that will scare away any mundane vermin in any building it's located inside or at the entrance to. Alternatively, it can be a painting of a cat that has all the same warding power. 450 CP Remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Things have been discussed, plans have been deepened, and Avalon… plans to take Downtown for himself? Not necessarily because he wants to be a mastermind villain or criminal, but because he trusts himself to keep it safer from other villains moving in like cockroaches than the PRT. What that means for his reputation and relationship with the PRT remains to be seen; after all, the Empire and Coil is still massively at large.

Let's see where this goes.

The next two chapters are available on my , as always! Let's see them reviews and I shall see you all soon. Give some suggestions for Avalon's future not-villainous-gang-that-are-heroes-that-own-territory!

Join the Discord!

Chapter 23

Two Days Later…

The dingy, trash-strewn, and vaguely sewer-scented paradise beneath Archer Bridge practically seemed to shake, shudder, and vibrate to the obnoxiously loud music blaring through the hazy, smoke-tinted air. The music came from a pair of oversized black speakers, shaking and bumping on top of a bulky, kitted out Cadillac that was lifted at least three feet too high off the ground.

With the dim cloudiness of Brockton Bay's evening sky bearing down from above, the only sources of light outside of the sparks of cigarette lighters and the blaring headlights of the Cadillac were the assortment of burning metal barrels that kept the brisk January chill away… and kept the mishmash strains of cannabis burning high and loud beneath the bridge. Gathered and pressed together in a mob of dirty, roiling bodies, a large group of stoned and sweaty bottom feeders danced alongside the obnoxious and funky beat, laughing, talking, and jabbing their bodies with dirty needles.

In a few special cases, ratty mattresses and stained couches were pulled from nearby abandoned buildings to lie back on and partake in more disgusting and salacious activities.

All in all, Adam Mustain - or Skidmark, as the rectal rimming sheep of the Bay knew him by - was rather fucking proud of how his first official block party was going! It was a block party without the block, sure, but who gave a flying rat's ass when the music and drugs were this fucking good?!

Skidmark was a smart and resourceful man, no one could ever deny that, and if they did he'd bitch slap the fuck outta them.

With his overwhelming intellect came the self-realization that, in order to grow past the shitty rep him and the rest of his hodgepodge group of Merchants were forced to bear, he needed more members. That was what it all came down to, right? More drugs, more sheep addicted and dependent, and more money coming in when they went out and worked the streets to make him more money! All he had to do was bolster his recruitment drives, truly make the downtrodden and absconded gather and rally beneath one flag.

His flag.

Through the power of easy pussy, desperate dick, and dirty needles.

It was an amazing fucking business model, one that he felt more comfortable putting more focus on with the Empire Chuckle-Fucks distracted by that prissy new hero, Avalon - the same one that had been fucking with his own operations a few days ago. Serves those racist nazi sister fuckers right, anyway.

Fuck them, fuck Kaiser, and fuck Lung too! It was the Merchant's time to shine, baby, and Skidmark was on the grind!

Hence, once again, the Archer Bridge Block Party.

Skidmark leaned back in the passenger seat of the souped-up Caddilac, bumping his head to the teeth-chattering beats blaring from the speakers. His reddening, jaundiced eyes caught the slinking sight of Mush, soaking up debris and dust as he 'danced' noisily in front of the bouncing car. Just in time, too, because the crack pipe he'd been smoking on for the past hour was already running out.

"Mush, you ugly little cunt, go roll me a fat ass joint! Dip it in some angel dust too, 'cuz sonuvabitch I'm tryna fly!"

The sad excuse of a man slowly stopped his retarded looking shuffle. "Uhhh, you got it boss!"

He sloughed across the muck-stained concrete, a blubbery mass of broken beer bottles, stinking refuse, and cracked syringes. As he came to a stop and lowered his exposed, bony upper body closer to the ground, a dirty plastic baggie of bud tumbled out of his folds of garbage.

Immediately, Mush's bulky fingertips, consisting of crunched soda cans and discarded needles, began tearing into the bag of weed. The joints he rolled were never neat or tight, but half the time he managed to overpack and soak it in some random substance that only heightened the high… so he usually let the clumsy trash heap do the honors.

Satisfied that he would be getting another hit soon, Skidmark cackled and finished off his pipe, his brain beginning to slow and teeter as the fading pot-pourri of drugs in his system sparked yet another wave of euphoria - this one lesser, more middling. Before him, underneath the rumbling of vehicles speeding on the bridge overhead, were his people, his army, and they would only grow more and more over the coming days ahead. It wasn't uncommon for him to feel elated at the thought of the future, leading his own drug trade that spanned the entire East Coast, but this time, he actually felt it!

The potential!

The power!

Or maybe it was the coke.

Fuck it!

"Sherr, com' gimme some head bitch!" He crooned shrilly, blinking his bleary eyes and forcing his head to loll over towards the driver's seat.

Every time the car bounced with its cranked-up hydraulics, it threw his brain back against his skull and made everything even more dizzy, but that was just part of the high! Still, now his brain was so scrambled by the blaring music and constant rocking that things were practically turning into doubles and triples, and for some reason his Squealer was no longer in the Cadillac. The driver side door was wide open. When the fuck did she leave? Maybe she had to piss?

Needing to piss never stopped her from giving him head before, so what the fuck?

"Sherr! SHERR! God fucking damn it you tiny bladdered cunt…"

Skidmark couldn't even hear himself over that brain fucking music. Annoyance and drug-infused horniness started to push back against his high, and he grumbled loudly to himself as he began fiddling with the dials and switches on the car's middle console. He was never the one in charge of actually driving his girlfriend's 'babies', as she called 'em - good thing too, because there was no way he was knocking that bitch up. Nothing made sense to him; there were like five different fucking buttons all on just one side of the damn thing, and three dials below those.

He started mashing buttons, and the hydraulics sent him flying forward into the dashboard. A scream of pain and frustration escaped his now bleeding lips when his face slammed into the hard, stained leather.

"BLEEDIN' FUCKING ANUS! How the FUCK do I TURN THIS SHIT DOWN?!"

"I think you twist this dial, right here. See how it has a green bar above it, on the screen?"

The sudden voice that spoke up from beside him, in the driver's seat that had previously been devoid of fat, juicy Squealer ass, was youthful, but deep and smooth. It also sounded familiar, like he heard it once before. Probably on TV or something? The radio? But they were here, at his block party, so it was probably just some overly ambitious fucknut trying to kiss ass and sound cool doing it.

Skidmark, eyes still blurry and watering in pain, nodded his head impatiently. "Bloody fucking hell, yeah I see it."

He wrenched the dial to the left, watching as the blurred green bar that he could only vaguely see immediately shifted down to red. Instantly, the pounding beats and blaring music became slightly quieter - still loud enough for the sheep outside to enjoy, but dulled enough to stop his brain from trying to escape out his ears at ground zero. Already, his headache was beginning to clear… which was both good and bad. His fucking high was leaving.

Skidmark breathed out an annoyed sigh. He needed that joint, right now.

"Fucking finally. Now where the hell is Sherr?"

Turning to the driver's seat again, Skidmark's heart almost leaped out of his chest. Relaxing back in the space usually reserved for Squealer was a tall, dashing figure in loose, silky-looking clothes and a gilded, black and gold mask that left most of his face exposed. Even then, as he stared in shock and surprise at the man's sudden appearance, Skidmark… couldn't place his finger on where he knew him from. He was some sort of cape, for sure - that much was obvious by the mask and gauntlets, but who…?

"Who… who the fuck are you?!"

His vision was starting to get blurry again. Skidmark blinked rapidly, head swimming, and jumped in shock. Sitting in the spot where Squealer usually sat was a figure clad in black and gold, wearing a mask and leaning back against the seat. He had to have been some sort of cape-

"Yeah, that's probably gonna keep happenin' for the next twenty seconds. Focus real quick, dickhead. Listen to me." The man snapped his clawed gauntlets in front of Skidmark's face, the flinty 'crack' of metal sparking against metal jerking the druggie back to attention.

Skidmark jumped, and his heart lurched painfully in his chest. He began hyperventilating at the sudden appearance of a masked man, watching him silently from the driver's seat.

"Who-who the fuck? WHO THE FUCK-"

A fist blurred through the air.

CRACK.

"AGHHH!"

Shock. The taste of iron. Skidmark could feel something hard and brittle sliding down his throat, and a swipe of his bleeding tongue revealed that he was missing his motherfucking teeth.

That was when the pain made itself known, and Skidmark's bulging, bloodshot eyes widened at the pure agony ripping fire through his torn and flayed lips. He gagged on blood, jerking back to open the door and get someone, anyone, between him and the dark figure, but as his hands scrambled desperately for the door handle, he realized…

The windows were raised, and the child safety lock was on. Why the fuck did Squealer install a child safety lock? " God motherfuckin' damn baby cocked cum slitted-"

"Chill," the mysterious man soothed, a smirk appearing on his face. Skidmark hated that fucking smirk, and he hated the fact that he had almost forgotten that the man even existed for that brief moment he had glanced away. What the fuck was happening to his brain?!

"I just wanted to know if you could pass the aux. This mix is trash." The question came out of nowhere, as apathetic and smooth as all the other words he'd spoken so far. The man rubbed at the fresh blood staining his gold-covered fist.

"What?!" Skidmark spat out a rotting, browned tooth, blood dribbling down his chin and soaking into his dirty blue jacket. "Th' fuck do you want, really?! Money? Pussy? Drugs?! I got so many motherfucking drugs-"

"The aux," he repeated, eyebrows lowering into a bemused stare.

Something began to click in his drug-addled brain. Memories, images, deja-vu; he knew who this shitbag was. The black coat, the gold mask, that annoying fucking face… this was Avalon, that new milksop bitch! Skidmark didn't know why it took him so long to recognize him, or why the hell his mind kept blanking out whenever he looked away, but this was bad fucking news. Only Squealer really knew how to work her complicated ass cars, and although he was pretty confident in his ability to drive away at the very least, the thought of fleeing from some upstart asshole kid almost made him want to tear out his own fucking testicles.

The unknown was scary, but recognition bred confidence. Skidmark sneered through the pain of his torn up mouth, bulging eyes widening in manic rage. "Fuck you and fuck whatever the fuck an 'aux' is, faggot ass bitch!"

He turned around, slamming his face against the window and clawing at the glass. Outside, unaware of the chaos happening in the tinted-out Cadillac, a man-shaped mound of trash was gingerly rolling a fat ass joint on the ground. All around, drug fiends danced and sucked and fucked in an endless whirlwind of debauchery and addiction. They were all blissfully ignorant, and he fucking hated them for it.

"MUSH YOU DEAF PIECE OF-!"

"Hah! Pussy."

There was the heavy sound of a grunt and then leather creaking, before an explosion of very sharp things and lancing, stabbing waves of burning pain completely took over his mind. Skidmark hadn't even felt the cape's boot slam against his body - all he knew was that his face was not made for breaking through glass windows, nor was it prepared to handle the sensation of skidding across glass shards and rough, unyielding concrete. He came to a stop against what felt like a barrel, but he couldn't tell for sure because he was pretty sure that glass was poking through his eyelids.

The music had already stopped. Avalon's voice drifted from the Cadillac, a cocky edge coating his stoic tone. "Yo, found the aux. Let's play some good shit, shall we? Real party music."

"….!"

He wanted to scream. He wanted to roar. He wanted to rage against the unfairness of it all, against that fucking menstruated sack of assflesh who decided to rain on his parade and fuck up his rise before it even truly began.

All that came out, amidst the sudden shocked and horrified silence of the crashed block party, was a screeching, blood-soaked command. "K-kill hiiiim!"

No one moved.

Skidmark forced his eyes open, blood streaming from his torn eyelids, and screamed so loud that his vocal chords cried. "F-FUCKING KILL HIMMM!"

Chaos erupted, just as music began blaring loudly from the still speakers.

With Take no Heed fading away, forcing Ulgu to dissipate silently into the hazy air, I'd made the executive decision to jumpstart the real fun of the evening.

Did I feel bad for kicking Skidmark's bony ass through two inches of solid glass?

Not at all. Dude sold drugs to kids and contributed to one of Brockton Bay's biggest fucking societal problems. I'd kick him through shittier things if someone offered me the easy opportunity.

Did I feel bad about fucking up the rest of the Merchants?

Maybe a little bit… but the fact that they were blasting at me with varying levels of lethal ordnance significantly tempered that small amount of empathy.

"AAAAH, GET FUUUUCKED!"

GRATATATATATA-

I was moving out of the vehicle before the first round of automatic gunfire lit up the dark evening sky. The Cadillac was clearly made for show and tell rather than active combat, and it showed that rather well with how the 7.62 rounds of what sounded like an AKM ripped through its bright orange paint job with startling ease. How the fuck a bunch of druggies got their hands on fully automatic firearms was a dumb question I almost asked myself before realizing that they were gang bangers, and I was in America.

How wouldn't they get AKs?

Conveyance Sorcery took me from the front seat to the concrete, and not even a heartbeat later that same magic took me from the concrete to the air.

The thing about going up during a fight? It was usually a stupid fucking idea.

For pussy ass muggles, that is.

The Gaster Blaster appeared below my feet like the world's edgiest hoverboard, its glowing eyes searching the crowd of drugged out Merchants before honing in on the druggie tweaking out with the AK. He'd already fired the full magazine into Squealer's Cadillac, all the while screaming like Rambo, and 'swift reloads' were apparently not part of the Skidmark Crackhead Training Program. I gathered ambient Aethyr into my body and leaped from the skull, soaring even higher into the air as I began chanting beneath my breath.

vrrrr… BOOM !

The alien-like roar of my goat skull beaming the AK-wielding thug with a laser as wide as he was tall did nothing to distract me from my casting. His body was immediately launched back across the ground, skipping and sliding against the concrete like the biggest human pebble.

"Y-yo, he's the nigga that fought Hookwolf! The fuck we do against that?!"

"I don't fuckin' know!"

"Shoot the skull, man! Shoot it before it fucking-"

vrrrr… BOOM!

There was another explosion of light and heat, and then another, but I was already focused on my next target.

At least I didn't have to watch my back.

"RAAAGH!" Mush roared loudly, his extremely shrill voice sounding more like a baby's first cry than a proper call to action. I was falling down towards him from a height of about forty or so feet, and I was falling fast. Clearly, the drugged out slob of a man was thinking to splatter my 'squishy' body against the shell of fragmented concrete and trash that he'd managed to absorb in and over his skin like segmented armor - a good idea in normal circumstances, but an incredibly stupid one when you didn't know anything about your opponent.

At this point, my body was naturally agile and strong enough to survive and brush off a forty foot drop easily - the Winds would never let me suffer from a death so pitiful, and Heroic Aptitude made sure that I knew exactly how to land in order to maximize efficiency and momentum.

And that wasn't even taking into account my spells.

"-tzœn qeyos mär!"

Chamon and I have become intimately familiar with each other ever since the battle with Hookwolf, and the rustic taste of copper and gold was like smelling the scent of an old friend when it brushed past my cheek and took hold of my costume. Feather of Lead soaked deep within the silky lightness of my clothes, taking me from a relatively average 170 pounds straight up into the lower 400s. I stubbornly set my jaw against the sudden weight, glaring and clenching my muscles tightly.

Mush didn't even have time to gawk up at me.

CRUNCH.

One instant I was falling gracefully towards the roaring Merchant, and the next my leather boots were splintering through inches of tough, stubborn concrete. Light gray mist exploded upwards as I broke through Mush's makeshift football helmet of stone, continuing through to his hideous, pug-like face and breaking multiple somethings if the disgusting crack that split the air was any proof.

I quickly pushed away the Yellow Winds as soon as my feet found purchase against the criminal's skull, untensing my clenched jaw and casually backflipping off of his broken and bleeding face.

"Guuuh…"

He teetered, eyes wide and unseeing as trash and filth began falling off of his pudgy body like Christmas ornaments.

A stroke of Azyr's stiff winds, almost a consolation for not utilizing it as often as the others, and Mush toppled over, unconscious and bleeding. 'Two down, let's finish with-'

BANG!

"Hn!"

I grunted, staggering forward half a step as something hot and angry slammed into my upper back. Whatever gun was used, the bullet had to have been low caliber - I'd enchanted my clothes with Chamon before crashing the party, and the round hadn't pierced completely through, but fuck it hurt like a bitch. I regained my footing, a hot, frustrated breath blasting from my nostrils as I called upon my special brand of 'Divine Retribution'.

High above, half-concealed by smoke and darkness, over a dozen spears of burnished, mottled gold formed, as if from thin air.

A low, slurring voice began stuttering in panic. "T-the fuck, shoot him again retard!"

"Alright, fuck man-" The shooter hissed.

CLICK.

"What-"

"It's fucking jammed!"

I twisted, and my eyes took in everything in those brief couple seconds the druggies were staring at me in horror.

The Gaster Blaster was semi-autonomous in the way that it could follow a single, straightforward mental command on its own, but forward thinking and complicated tactics slid cleanly off of its skull. Me summoning it in the heat of the moment to attack the druggie with the AK seemed to have focused its ire on other gun-wielding enemies, and even now it was firing short bursts of golden, soul-burning light at screaming, fleeing men - men who were throwing their guns away once they realized that the weapons were like a beacon for the creepy skull. As preoccupied as it was, I couldn't exactly blame it for not watching my six.

I'd gotten sloppy for a second, and had an apple-sized bruise to show for it. Stupid.

Oddly enough, though, the Blaster seemed to be having… fun, tormenting the druggies? I coulda sworn I heard a low, disembodied 'huhuhuhu' as it floated through the air, but maybe the amalgamation of drugs burning was fucking me up. God, I needed to get detoxed. Squealer, too, now that I thought about it. But I could worry about that after I dealt with these two assholes.

Skidmark and Mush were practically out of commission, Squealer was unconscious and tied up in a nearby alleyway, and the remnants of the Merchants who weren't singed and knocked out beneath the bridge or in a ditch were fleeing deeper into the city.

It was about time to wrap this up.

"Aye, we- we're talkin' to you!" It was the slurring guy from before. I looked him over, tilting my head curiously. Tall, lanky, white and pock-marked, wearing a beanie… he was practically the tonal opposite to the short and stocky Hispanic guy holding the pistol in a steady grip. Hidden Intuition recognized the training in his stance - nothing military, but he clearly went to the shooting range.

I frowned, and they shivered. "Yo, you shot me."

The Hispanic guy jerked his head up and down, but he didn't falter. "Yeah, I did… 'cuz you were gonna kill us, puta!"

"Not 'till you decided to put a hole in my coat, dumbass."

I glanced up, not even trying to hide the movement. When they went to follow my gaze, mouths opening in shock and fear at the sight of my potential magical bombardment, I flicked my hand casually to the side and watched as another golden spear shot from the ground, piercing through the guy's hand and sending the pistol clattering across the concrete.

"Shit, wait-!"

I teleported, clearing the distance between us in two blinks; for certain capes, that was enough time to react. For normal humans suffering from a chronic case of the weeds, it was a fucking death sentence.

A lightning quick jab to the diaphragm robbed beanie-boy of his breath, and I planted my feet and put the full rotary force into the follow-up hook that sent him blasting straight into dreamland, skinning his chin against the asphalt. Instincts not necessarily my own, but appreciated nonetheless, had me moving with the hit, twisting to the right and leaning back in order to raise my-

"WAIT, MAN, FUCK!"

Foot…

"What?"

"Fuck you mean 'what'? I surrender! Shit, this ain't- I ain't… I'm just tryna make some quick cash amigo…" Holding his limp hand, the Merchant fell to his knees. A second later, he fell back onto his ass, staring up at me like I was an executioner holding an axe over his neck. "I got a lil' sister, man. My abuela can't afford rent and school!"

I lowered my leg. "So you chose the Merchants?" I asked rhetorically, taking a half-step back and gesturing out to the groaning and unconscious bodies of dirty, homeless-looking fiends laying out amongst a throng of dirty needles, broken bottles, and filth.

The scent of weed and something more acrid was still lingering in the air, despite most of the barrels having been knocked over and extinguished in the chaos.

"I delivered three packages and made thirty two hundred bucks," the man - no, boy, said quietly. "I ain't say I was proud of it! Just, I don't know man…"

I just watched him.

The Gaster Blaster had already gone back to whatever hellish dimension it stayed at whenever I didn't have it summoned, and judging by the sudden silence and stillness in the air and the lack of cars driving along Archer Bridge, the rest of the gangsters were long gone, soon to be replaced by either the PRT or the Brockton Bay Police Department. Considering I was definitely committing some sort of crime by straight up kidnapping Squealer, I did not want to be in the area when they came by.

"Whatever," I grunted, turning around and heading over to the torn and absolutely fucked up form of Skidmark. He was in pretty critical condition, to the point of possible blindness and organ damage, and I didn't want to deal with the PRT getting on my ass just yet. I still needed their relative goodwill in order for the Empire Culling plan to go well. 'Sear Wounds it is.'

I grunted and channeled Aqshy into a searing orange glow on my palm.

The Hispanic guy watched me with wide-eyes. "What do you mean whatev-"

Flesh sizzled beneath my hand.

"AGHHHHH!"

One of the golden spears floating overhead dove down like an eagle, skewering through Skidmark's back and pinning his flailing body to the ground. His scream was cut off like a puppet with its strings cut, flopping painlessly back against the concrete in blissful silence.

"… W-what the fuck? "

I was an empathetic puker, so I doggedly ignored the retching coming from the one-man peanut gallery.

"Dude needed healing, so I healed him."

Standing, I willed all of my conjured spears to dissipate into mana that flowed back into my body, refilling the roaring waterfall that was my manapool. Funny, since it had barely dipped during the battle.

"You- you're the one who did that to him, though. You kicked him through a car window!" The former(?) Merchant spat to the side and gagged.

"Potato, potato. Look, are you getting the fuck outta here or not? I know your face now, so if I stop by and find out you're lyin' about your sister and grandma…"

I knew his face, but I sure as fuck didn't plan on stopping by. He didn't know that, though.

His lips tightened into a stubborn, if still fearful scowl. It made the peach fuzz on his upper lip jut out like whiskers. "On my dead mama I ain't lying. I swear man, I'm not doing this shit again."

I narrowed my eyes.

As far as I could tell, he was being truthful - the frustration in his eyes were genuine, the fear was stronger than anything else but he fought it back with his desperation to survive and provide. It could've been a selfish desperation, not one born from being an older brother, but I liked to believe that it was the former. The light in his eyes were familiar - a mirror to years long gone by, when I was in a similar situation. Not necessarily selling drugs, but a struggle was a struggle regardless of the specifics involved.

Fuck it. There was no reason to go full Batman and cripple every morally gray person I met. That was the quickest route to becoming a hypocritical nutjob, and I hated motherfuckers like that. I wasn't a hero because I believed in the pursuit of justice above all else. I was a hero because I wanted to protect what was mine, and the villains of Earth Bet were in the way of that.

I attacked this block party because Squealer was useful, and I needed a specialized vehicle for the Plan. Not to mention she'd make a good asset in general once I moved past the Empire and Coil.

I knocked out the beanie dude because he pissed me off.

I was sparing this dude because he reminded me of myself.

As long as I stayed on my path for reasons like those, I'd be alright. I think.

"Babe," Cassie's voice suddenly rang through my earpiece, a concerned tint to her sweet voice. "PRT inbound, ETA three minutes. It's Armsmaster and Triumph this time. They're-"

Pod 084's tinny voice interrupted her, "Proposal: Permanently silence the Merchant drug addict and return swiftly with the spoils of battle."

"The fuck- Pod, it's my turn to be on comms! Stop interru-"

I clicked the earpiece, temporarily muting the correspondence. As much as I lo-… appreciated my people in the chair, I always did my best work alone. Maybe that would change, and soon, but hearing my media-influenced AI harp about the efficiency of 'quick kills' wouldn't be helping me with my tasks tonight.

"You do you - just split before the PRT shows up." I said after a few more seconds of silence, mainly because it was vaguely amusing watching the guy shift nervously beneath the intensity of my stare. I turned and began making my way back towards the buildings in the distance.

"Yeah," he swallowed, slowly climbing back to his feet. "Thank you."

And we parted ways, as sirens began to draw closer in the distance.

I just hoped that Squealer's unconscious body was still in the same spot I left it in. After all, there was still one last stop to make before the night was over.

Hopefully Panacea was capable of curing STDs, addictions, and health maladies built from years of long-term drug abuse. If she couldn't, well…

I was pretty sure I could figure something out.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Master of Disguise (Legend of Zelda - 100 CP): During the beginning of the war, Princess Zelda was forced away from her armies. To distract her enemies, she disguised herself before returning to her army. With this perk, you are able to put together extensive disguises before storing them away, just like magic, probably because it is. To put them away is as simple as putting them on. By focusing on which disguise you want and doing a little spin, you can immediately put on the outfit, accessories, makeup and whatever else was on you at the time while storing what you currently have.

550 CP remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

A bit of a timeskip here! To explain to those that may be a bit puzzled, although it will be explained more next chapter: Over the past couple days, as they waited for more information in regards to Hookwolf's transport, the group has been going over other plans that can help them out when the time comes. Getting the aid of Squealer was one such plan. The perk that was accepted here, by the way, will be revealed over the next couple chapters. Couldn't find a good pocket to introduce it in this chapter.

Next two chapters, as always, are up on my . Let me know what you all think, and don't forget to hop in the Discord to hang out and discuss the story more with me personally.

PS: Thinking of starting a Snippet/Drabble thread for all of my little ideas and plot bunnies that I don't want to hard commit to just yet, so look forward to that.

Chapter 24

Kidnapping Squealer of all people hadn't been my first choice.

Even in my past life I was the type to keep my circles extremely small, so going out and intentionally looking for a greasy-haired skank to add into the mix was pretty much on the opposite side of my usual MO. It was Cassie who actually made the push to 'recruit' Squealer, if only for the counter prisoner-break that would inevitably be happening in a few days. The truth of the matter was that our little Nazi Culling group were three members strong, and none of us were particularly high Movers.

The PRT would be moving fast in order to clear out of the city in an attempt to beat the Empire's scouts, and we still didn't know what sort of chess pieces Kaiser himself planned to send forward. I had a few select teleportation abilities under my grasp, Conveyance being practically instant in exchange for having the shortest range, but trusting solely in ten to twenty foot bursts of movement when trying to keep up with a potentially armored caravan was just… not smart.

We needed a good ride, and with a significant lack of capital that would not increase exponentially in the scant couple days we had to prepare, we had to rely on another thing my magical abilities made me especially talented at.

Kidnapping drugged-out Tinkers with advanced vehicle specialties.

With Cassie and 084 working together, finding the druggies' block party was ridiculously easy. Manipulating Ulgu and slipping beneath their coked-out noses with a quietly murmured spell was even moreso.

Playing some Denzel Curry and kicking Skidmark and Mush's ass was just plain ol' fun.

And, as a result, here I was; Masked-up and slinking through shadowy alleyways like fucking Sly Cooper, a distractingly jiggly and disgustingly stinky Squealer tossed over my shoulder. My shoulder was also a bit wet, and I was scared she fucking pissed on me. There were a couple of spells I knew that would've made the transportation to the hospital a little bit easier, one being Azyr's The Sapphire Arch, but that would mean putting the bitch in frozen stasis and then just plopping her out, high and volatile, in front of Panacea - if Amy was even there at 8 PM.

Not the greatest of ideas, so I had to set shit straight beforehand.

"-go of me you fuckin' arrogant asshole! Skiddy's gonna find me, fucker, and he's gonna make you pay! You hear me?! Rape! RAPE-"

A sharp shrug of my shoulders and a whisper of Aqshy, and Squealer squealed in her high-pitched voice as she was sent flying through the air. I caught her in my right hand, squeezing just enough on the sides to cut off her words and choke her up just a little bit. In the darkness of the evening, I could see how the bloodshot white of her eyes grew, pupils dilating in fear and panic as choked words struggled to escape her cracked lips.

In some ways, dully at the back of my mind, I felt kinda bad - this was the first time I choked a woman nonconsensually. It didn't feel very good, but she was a pretty shitty person so fuck it.

"Sinaö."

The makeshift spell that I was tentatively starting to call 'Silence of the Lamb' took hold immediately, the gasped words silencing as Ulgu moved forth like a miasma and clogged Squealer's throat shut - only allowing enough room for her to breath in short, shallow breaths. I flexed my arm, tendons stretching and muscles tightening as I single-handedly dangled her off her feet. Squealer wasn't a small woman - each of her huge breasts had to be at least the size of Cassie's head.

That wasn't even getting into the ass.

"So, here's how we're gonna do this," I said, flexing my mana and pushing Force of Spirit to the forefront. "You're gonna shut your fucking mouth and listen to me like a good girl, yeah?"

My voice dipped even lower, moving into an intimidating growl that caused the vehicle Tinker to seize in my palm, like a possum trying to play dead. Considering her eyes were still wide and staring straight into mine, the instinctive tactic was pretty useless.

She stopped trying to force out words, at least.

I dropped her, and she immediately collapsed onto her knees.

Fortunately, we were pretty deep in some ratty, dark, alleyway, so outside of some unconscious hobo sleeping in a dumpster I didn't have to worry about anyone listening in and interrupting what was quickly about to become a 'Conversion Speedrun'. I didn't want to spend the next two hours pleading with the chick to play ball and let me help her, and if Panacea was at the Downtown General Hospital now, I doubted that she would be there for much longer - she was like, what, 17? And it was a school night?

I dialed Hidden Intuition up to a nice 4/10, and looked down at the gasping druggie.

Dilated pupils, unnatural tremors throughout the body, fresh sores along both forearms, scent of cheap liquor; Squealer is high on Methamphetamine, drunk, and suffering a panic attack.

All things that were relatively easy to surmise, even without a detective's wet dream as a magical ability. I cranked it even higher, taking the time to circle around the shivering woman and look over her body for more information to go off of. Hidden Intuition highlighted every noteworthy feature as if it was evidence - the sores glowing red, the scent of alcohol becoming pronounced and drifting off of her body like a green poison, the sound of her shaking ramping up in volume in my ears.

She snapped around to follow me with her eyes, clearly having trouble seeing me in the darkness. Her lips quivered, and she began scratching at her sore-covered hands anxiously. It looked like she would have been mere moments away from trying to run, if her ankles and wrists weren't bound by zip ties.

Squealer is anxious, afraid, and aroused.

Wait, what?

Squealer is afraid of you. Squealer is afraid you plan to sexually assault her after taking her from Skidmark. Squealer is hoping you plan to sexually assault her. Squealer is sexually, emotionally, and mentally unsatisfied by Skidmark. Getting drunk makes Squealer horny. Getting high makes Squealer horny. Non-consensual consent makes Squealer horny. Squealer finds you physically appeali-

'… What the fuck?'

My eyes slowly drifted towards my shoulder, where I'd felt a wet sensation as I jogged through the alleys, and sure enough…

My Intuition highlighted a clear, sticky spot staining my coat, almost impossible to see without some sort of supernatural vision. Squealer's arousal leaked onto your shoulder.

I would have laughed if I wasn't grossed out.

I was not recruiting Squealer by fucking loyalty and common sense into her body. For one, I was almost absolutely certain that she had a whole plethora of sexually transmitted diseases, and going off of her stink she wasn't the biggest fan of cleaning herself either. Secondly, and most importantly, I was… in a relationship. Not a situationship, not a 'friend with benefit' exchange, but an actual, gf to bf relationship. If Squealer was clean and I was single, well… I wasn't exactly a pious priest, and fucking another dude's girl wasn't treading new ground for me, but what I had with Cassie was different.

I was a loyal guy, or, at least, I tried to be. Sure, I found a lot of different women ridiculously hot and there were definitely some chicks across the omniverse that I would give an arm and a leg to creampie, but if there was one thing I never did before becoming a mage, it was cheat.

Now, with permission from Cass, or even better - fucking women with my woman? Oh, I'd go to fucking town because the horny train never stopped and I was a licensed conductor, but we'd never spoken about that sorta stuff. I kinda just asked her to be my girlfriend, and that was that. Buuut… those were more complicated thoughts for more complicated conversations, to be had by Future Jason.

Right now, Present Jason had to figure out the best way to use this information. Amongst the droves of sexual insights was something I felt like I could lean on. Skidmark's ineptitude.

"It's fucking disappointing," I finally spoke up, considering the last few seconds had been spent with me combing my thoughts and Squealer watching me warily.

She scowled and tried to hiss something else, realized that no sound was coming out, and instead bared her yellowing teeth at me. With the knowledge that she was getting off to our current dynamic, the gesture looked a lot less fearsome.

I squatted down in the dirty alley, only a couple feet away from the twitching blonde. She lashed forward with her upper body as soon as her eyes caught sight of my face again, and I didn't move - simply watching as she skinned her knee against the ground and fell flat on her face with a stifled yelp.

While she wiggled fruitlessly to get back on her knees, I tilted my head and caught her rabid gaze once again. "I've seen your work before; online, mostly, getting trash-talked by every cape wannabe that thinks they know something about Tinkers. It's a shame, too, because your vehicles are impressive."

At some point, she had managed to scrape her chin against the ground and force her eyes upwards; ass in the sky, and tits squished between her body and a torn up, discarded newspaper. If she wasn't paying heed before, Force of Spirit had her glaring and listening with rapt attention now.

I grinned. It felt strange on my face - plastic and fake, like the makeup she had caked on hers.

She spat, and it didn't come anywhere close to my boots.

"You wanna know the constant between all of those jeers, though? The one thing that manages to drag everything down and make your hard work seem so fucking ridiculous?"

Squealer couldn't speak, but I could imagine her response; 'What is it then, mister smartass?' in that high-pitched, southern drawl.

My grin dropped, and I replied to the imaginary woman. "Skidmark, the gummy mouthed asshole that uses you to spearhead and power all of his bullshit schemes. What are you even doing, sucking off a bunch of diseased deadbeats and sticking needles up your ass when you can make a fucking spaceship? Bitch, go work for NASA. Hell, you can make thousands betting on yourself in street races. Why the hell are you wasting away with losers like the Merchants?"

She was jerking, brows furrowing and teeth gnashing together as she tried to speak over me. At some point her battered welding mask had fallen off of her face, probably long before we'd arrived at this alley, but judging by the way she was simulating a salted snail I doubted she was caring all that much in the moment. Fortunately, I didn't need to hear her voice to understand what she was saying. Powered up to its full effect, Hidden Intuition was more than capable of making sense of Squealer's facial expressions and body language. She practically wore her heart on her needle-pricked sleeve.

Squealer is angry. Squealer is angry that you're calling out everything she has known for a long time. Squealer is angry that you're making her feel regret. Squealer is sad. Squealer is in denial. Squealer is no longer aroused-

Yeah, I figured. Hearing how much of a waste of space your boyfriend made you by proxy of being his girlfriend was pretty sobering information.

Still, it wasn't enough. I could tell - she was mad at me, mad at herself, and her high was getting properly fucked up, but she wasn't completely drawn in. Understandable, since I'd been teasing the point of my little speech the whole time like some sort of monologuing asshole.

People like her didn't respect weakness; they respected decisiveness, and power. I didn't know her past, but going off of what I did know about her, she was probably drawn to Skidmark under the lure of money, fame, and another hit, and when he realized the tarnished gem that she was, he probably upped the doses immensely, mixing in some crazy shit. Got her proper fucked up and fiending, hemmed up in the high of it all before she even realized what path her new life was heading down. She was a follower, through and through, and drug abuse chipped away at whatever willpower she used to have. As a result, I had to play hardball since it was probably the only thing she was used to.

Compassion would probably make her feel like I was lying to her, Force of Spirit or not. She'd been burned, used, and preyed on when she was at her weakest by men probably doing the same soft, gaslighting ass tactics.

That was what I was feeling with Hidden Intuition, at least.

I had to do this my way.

"… !"

She made a noiseless hissing sound when my gold-clad right hand darted forward as swift as a snake, wrapping around her greasy blonde ponytail and grabbing her hair in an ironclad grip. I didn't yank or pull - much; I eased her body up slowly, watching as her lower body scrambled to find the purchase that it previously lacked when she was slumped over ass-up.

Squealer's bloodshot eyes darted left and right for a moment, momentarily refusing to meet mine now that I was so close that I could spot the cracks in her caked on foundation. Inevitably, however, her stubbornness broke and she looked at me.

Truly looked at me.

When I grinned this time, it was genuine. Crooked and mischievous, like every other smile I put on, but no longer plastic.

I spoke quietly. "Brockton Bay's gonna be changing soon, and I plan to herald that change. Hell, downtown's already mine and they don't even know it yet. The Empire's days are numbered, the Merchants are finished, and it's only a matter of time before Coil's taken care of too. I can offer you a lotta things - money, resources, respect, victory… but you gotta show me that you're worth all that. Show me that you can be as smart as I know you are. And that means calming the fuck down, coming with me to get that bullshit cleaned outta your system, and actin' like you've got some lingering shred of self-respect. You get me?"

Something glinted in her wide gaze, and if I wasn't watching for it I would have missed it. Anger, frustration, and… hope? Relief?

I relaxed my grip on her hair ever so slightly, but she didn't shift an inch. She was tensing her core, staying stiff and upright so that she could stay looking into my eyes. I didn't know what she was seeing there, but I hoped it was enough to convince her that I could and would help.

I focused on the Grey Winds clogging her throat and ushered them away with a mental pull, allowing her to take the first full, chest-heaving breath she had in minutes.

GASP.

She was still shaking. The jitters hadn't stopped, and I could tell that the drugs were still coursing through her system, but her eyes never left mine. Her tongue slipped out from between cracked and bloodied lips, wetting the dry skin, before a humorless, yellowing grin formed.

"… I get ya," she rasped, turning to the side and letting out a loud, decidedly unhealthy cough. When she turned back to me, her grin seemed more certain - less bitter. "If you're actually offerin' me a way outta that shitshow of a gang… offerin' to get me away from him, I ain't gonna kick my feet and cry about it. 'Least not 'till the withdrawals start hittin' me. Hehe, I'm kinda fucked up right now."

There was a warning in her voice, one that I recognized and acknowledged. This was probably one of her very brief flashes of sobriety and common-sense before she relapsed again. If I wanted to make this work, Panacea's help was a need, not a want.

"You'd be surprised at what superpowers can do to a stubborn woman's immune system," I smirked, standing to my full height.

Squealer winced in pain, her body forcibly moving up alongside mine as I stood to my feet. "Owww, watch the fuckin' hair! Bastard."

" Wash the fucking hair," I corrected, letting go of her greasy ponytail and wiping my hands on my pants leg. I was due a Hysh cleansing, but that involved bright light and possible witnesses, so I was more focused on moving forward with the night.

I took a step back and looked at Squealer again. She was slouching, eyes shadowed and body shivering, but she wasn't running - and she wasn't backing down beneath my gaze, either. There was still fight left in the woman - fight that didn't involve manic, meth-addled rage. I just had to coax it out.

Squealer is feeling hopeful. Squealer is feeling self-hatred. Squealer is feeling happy. Squealer is feeling sad. Squealer's emotions are shifting quickly. Squealer is feeling cold-

'Right,' I thought, glancing over her clothes - or lack thereof. Torn booty shorts that had her ass half hanging out the back, an oil-stained crop top that probably used to be white, and dirty biker boots. It was probably pushing fifty degrees right now.

"You good?" I asked, tilting my head.

Squealer's responding scowl was both sarcastic and pissed off.

Shit, and here comes the mood-swings.

"The fuck does it look like, 'Boss'? Kidnapped, thrown around, and strangled by some self righteous hero, all in the same night - clearly I'm doin' peachy fuckin' keen." she snarled, a body-wracking cough sending tremors through her body. She spat a discolored wad of saliva to the side and grimaced. When she spoke again, her voice was noticeably calmer.

"Sorry, just-… I ain't feelin' too hot. 'Specially not with these tight ass zipties. Couldn't invest in some of those good bondage toys?"

Ignoring the forced teasing in her words, I reached forward, and…

SNAP.

A quick crouch, and-

SNAP.

Standing, I pressed the button on the side of my black earpiece and spoke quickly, ignoring the unbound Squealer's gawking. "Avalon to HQ, I repeat; Avalon to HQ,"

It was 084's robotic voice that responded this time. "Good evening Avalon. This is Tactical Support Unit Pod 08-"

"You don't gotta do that whole song and dance again, lil' buddy," I cut him off with a smirk, turning away from Squealer and idly glancing up towards the night sky. "Do me a favor; check and see what clothing stores are open near my location. Preferably some place lowkey."

"Affirmative. Scanning businesses near your phone's GPS signal. Filtering for 'clothing', multiple results found. Sending the coordinates to your Wayfinder App."

A ping shot through my phone. I pulled the device out and quickly scrolled to one of Cassie's ingenious software applications - sure enough, a blue line was moving directly from the alley I was in to some spot a couple blocks away, in the direction of the hospital. How Cassie made these without having a fucking satellite in the sky, I had no idea, but I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Neither did I refuse a quick freebie from the Grimoire when it was spontaneously offered; a possible reward for me sacrificing my heroic ideals by kidnapping Squealer?

Spoiler: The Song Of Your Heart - Free

In addition to an improvement to your singing skills and ability to compose songs you are no longer reliant on your mouth to deliver your songs. You may freely sing and speak simultaneously, as your heart broadcasts your song (plus appropriate musical accompaniment) without necessity for such things as atmosphere, breathing, or instruments. This can be freely toggled but doesn't require further concentration once activated unless you wish to use non-Relic based singing abilities alongside it.

Not at all useful right now, or at any point unless I was planning to unleash my inner Usher, but I wasn't one to turn down free magic. Maybe I could sneak in some sexy RnB falsetto notes while whipping the racist out of Purity - apparently me and her were a pretty hot topic on PHO. I wouldn't know too much about it since I didn't really have the time to browse the internet nowadays.

I was just too busy spanking drug dealers and nazis.

"Thanks buddy. Tell Cass I said she has a cute ass."

"Affirmative. This Pod will pass Master's correspondence over to Mistress."

"Cool, catch you later."

I clicked the earpiece again and turned around to meet Squealer's wide gaze. I was quite proud that my little gamble paid off; as expected, she hadn't run away after I turned around and left her unbound and free. It wasn't much of a gamble, considering I would've seen her with my Second Sight and caught her before she could get more than a few feet away, but she probably didn't know that.

It was the thought that counted.

"W-what the fuck was that about?" she exclaimed, pointing straight at my face - or, more specifically - my earpiece.

I blinked. "You. I can't have my first minion freezing her oversized tits off, right? Walk with me."

I began moving in the direction of the store. Due to my perfect recollection, I already had the route memorized, meaning I didn't have to constantly look down at my phone. It was at this point that the Grimoire reached a hook out to another ability, and was swept away by its pure breadth. I whistled silently; the charge I was starting to build back up was getting hefty, but definitely not hefty for whatever monster that was.

It took Squealer only a brief few moments of staring at my back, during which I assumed she honestly debated just turning tail and running as drug heads often did, but fleeting common sense and her dwindling high combined together managed to prevail and force her to follow stiffly after me.

"Woah, jackass - who the hell said I was gonna be a fuckin' minion? What happened to 'respect'? 'Cause that ain't sounding like respect!"

"Minions get respect when they earn it - definitely more than you'd get being the Merchant's gloryhole princess. Wear your new title with pride."

Squealer gritted her teeth at my abrasive bluntness, eyes twitching in that crazy way an addict's did whenever they entertained some fucked up, intrusive thought, but it simmered down quickly. Smart woman.

"Fuck you." she spat, literally. Fortunately not at me, or else I'd have to smash her face in it like a disobedient dog.

I wrinkled my nose. She was gonna have to learn some manners, whether she was in her 'right state of mind' or not.

"Minion Code, paragraph one section one," I began, turning around and shoving my hands in my pockets. My easy pace didn't shift in the slightest as I seamlessly moved around trash cans and debris like I had eyes in the back of my head.

The sight clearly made her uneasy, but she continued to scratch at the sores on her arms, watching me warily. "What?"

"You want respect, you give it to me first. In substantial amounts."

She snorted, eyes practically rolling into the back of her skull. "Yeah fuckin' right. You talk a big game, but I bet my sweet ass you're a limp dicked asshole like Skid-"

I disappeared.

It was fortunate that we hadn't made it out of the alleyway just yet. There was a homeless guy sleeping on a cardboard box, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

I reappeared right in front of the yapping woman, shoving her against the grimy wall of the alleyway. Her back roughly slammed against the cool brick, forcing the breath out of her lungs right before my arm darted up to restrain her. The cold metal of my gauntlets pushed against her neck, hard enough to make her panic and instinctively scramble to get in a full breath. She gasped, whether from shock or fear I did not necessarily care, and I smiled down at her. It was a sarcastic one this time.

"I'm not a villain, believe it or not - but I can act like one tonight if you want me to. Try it again."

She went to say something, and Hidden Intuition whispered at the back of my mind like a tattle telling child as it highlighted different miniscule signs in her facial expression and body language.

Squealer is challenging you. Squealer is mentally unstable. Squealer is aroused.

In both a sudden burst of annoyance and a calculated decision, I called on Aqshy to coat my body in its heated Wind. As soon as I felt its presence, I punched the wall beside her head.

CRUNCH!

Brick crumbled beneath my fist, breaking off in large, jagged fragments that dropped to the ground amongst heavy puffs of dust.

Squealer inhaled sharply, and that dull look that had started to build in her eyes ever since I had grabbed her by the hair abruptly disappeared. With my body so close to hers, my knee had inevitably been forced up between her legs. At that moment, I felt something begin to dampen the extremely thin fabric covering her pussy.

I dialed back Hidden Intuition before it could enlighten me as to what the liquid was. Regardless of what it could be, I was distantly disgusted.

"Try it again." I repeated, a raspy growl burgeoning at the back of my throat.

" … Yes daddy," she whispered breathlessly, barely able to get the whispered words out from behind my arm.

I blinked. What?

"What?"

Squealer's chest rattled weakly in an attempt to respond, and I leaned off of her a bit. "I said 'yes sir', boss man. I'm a lot of things, a lot of 'em not good, but I ain't suicidal." She tried to grin again, but fear and unsureness made the expression flinty and fleeting. "Maybe you can do something with this dumpster fire of a city after all."

I snorted, moving back a few steps and glancing over to my left. The homeless guy was still sleeping away in his palace of discarded rags and damp cardboard, so I figured I hadn't been too loud. Either that or he was dead.

"Better," I murmured dryly, turning back to give Squealer a deadpan look. I could already tell that she'd be an eccentric one to deal with. Fortunately, I wasn't unfamiliar with handling troublesome bitches. "Let's get the hell outta here, grab you something warmer to wear."

Without waiting for a response, I began making my way out of the alleyway again. I was quickly growing sick of the scent of refuse and unwashed bodies.

"I guess I ain't one to refuse free clothes," Squealer muttered raspily, rubbing at her bruised throat and following a few steps behind me.

I left a five dollar bill on the homeless guy's unconscious body as we moved past him.

'Next stop,' I thought, bracing myself against a particularly stiff breeze, 'Designer Surplus, here we come. Time to see what this new perk can really do.'

I'd pay for all the clothes I inevitably gobbled up since I had a few hundred bucks burning a hole in my wallet. Master of Disguise was practically begging to be abused, and as someone who generally took decent care of his looks, I was pretty excited to try it out. Custom outfit loadouts that had no real limit? I was like a character in the fucking Sims! It was unfortunate that the Grimoire only offered it to me after I had already attacked the Merchants, barely noticed in the melee of it all. Infiltrating their party as a homeless guy would've been pretty fun.

'I wonder how many outfits I can get away with grabbing before they get suspicious?'

There was only one way to find out.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

The Song of Your Heart (Free): In addition to an improvement to your singing skills and ability to compose songs you are no longer reliant on your mouth to deliver your songs. You may freely sing and speak simultaneously, as your heart broadcasts your song (plus appropriate musical accompaniment) without necessity for such things as atmosphere, breathing, or instruments. This can be freely toggled but doesn't require further concentration once activated unless you wish to use non-Relic based singing abilities alongside it.

Spoiler: A/N

I rolled my first 1000 CP perk and didn't have the CP to grab it. It was from DC Occult. To be fair, I don't know just how good it was because the description was a bit meh, but still… damn it!

Have the chapter a day early.

I know I'm going to get some comments about Sherrel's behavior, so I'm gonna say this: She has virtually no personality or backstory in canon Worm, so I'm just going with what I feel will make for a well-rounded character. She's sexual, very fucked up right now, with a dash of trauma to top it all off. She's also a follower, and is more than fine letting stronger people take charge if they convince her they're actually strong. Like Jason just did.

Also, she's unmasked right now - but she doesn't have much of a civvie life and doesn't care too much, especially since she's high. This is important to note. When unmasked and with a change of clothes, she just looks like a… crackhead with big tits. Not Squealer.

Next two chapters are up on my , with the latest one being a whoppin' 10k words! Check it out if you're an impatient reader (like I am).

Chapter 25

Fifteen minutes later, and it turned out that the answer to my previous question was; a lot of outfits.

Designer Surplus was like Brockton Bay's version of a thrift store. The fact that it was nestled comfortably downtown meant that it was pretty well-kept, but cleanliness didn't necessarily equate to perceptive and hardworking employees. The teenage girl running the front counter barely even peeked up from her cell phone when we quietly entered the dimly lit shop, and considering I had pocketed my mask and thrown my outer coat over my shoulder before we entered, there was no overt attention given to the young black man and his itchy, possibly drug-addled white companion.

At least, not any attention that I could sense. The store was practically devoid of human life outside the clerk; 084 did clean work.

"How does this one look on me, big guy? Yellow ain't really my color, but something 'bout this jacket's really callin' out to me. Or maybe it's the drugs talkin', hehe."

With a sigh, I placed the black, double-breasted long coat down on the bench I was sitting on and glanced over to the changing room.

Squealer was posing in the open door with a wide, pleased grin on her face, hands on her wide hips and her ass cocked to the side as she waited for my praise. I had to admit; with the caked on makeup and amalgamation of mystery fluids cleaned off of her body via Hysh magic - something I did to the both of us after moving to the back of the store - Squealer really didn't look that bad. Drug abuse had given her sores all along her body, made her skin looser and more wrinkly, made her hair lose its youthful luster… but I could see the potential there.

Before she got fucked over by meth and coke, I was certain that she'd been a fucking bombshell.

"Lookin' hot," I said with a smirk, giving her a thumbs up. The genuine pride and dazzle of joy that flitted across her weathered face surprised me. What was up with me collecting women who were in dire need of acknowledgment and compliments?

" Shuuucks, thanks sugah!"

"It's kinda slutty, though. The fuck's the point in getting a jacket if it's cut off right below your tits? And let me cut your hair - it'll look better short."

Her expression flattened, and Squealer stomped towards me in those new white leather boots that I'd seen her nab from the Clearance aisle. Going off of her slightly awkward gait, they probably weren't the correct size, but the chick was older than me and I wasn't gonna be the one to baby every single decision she made.

"Aren't you fuckin' rude," she scoffed, crossing her arms under her large bust and glaring down at me. When my eyes flickered down to the annoyingly jiggly tits that were practically asking to bust out of her new apparel, the frown on her face turned into a victorious smirk. Her heated, half-lidded gaze roamed my unmasked face appreciatively. "Huh. Big boss in charge, and still just a man at heart. Why don't we just head back into the changin' room and shut them doors. I'm sure the lil' bitch up front won't c-"

"Watch yourself," I cut her off sharply, though my face stayed cool and composed. Her little flirtations had only worsened since I hit her with that dash of Hysh, and changing out of my costume had only amplified her thirstiness. Either she was hella pent-up or Skidmark really did have a little shrimp dick. Probably both. "I'm taken, quite happily at that. You upset her and shit gets bad real fast."

Squealer's smirk melted off of her face like lukewarm ice cream.

"Psh. Aye aye, boss man." she grumbled, turning around to angrily browse more racks of cheap clothing. I purposefully ignored the way she skillfully sashayed her hips just enough to get a subtle bounce going with her ass. Fucking Second Sight.

Letting out a breath and standing up from the bench, I grabbed the black overcoat and made my way into the men's changing room. It was a small stall right beside the one Squealer had used, but it wasn't like I needed a large amount of space to utilize my newest ability. In the small amount of time I'd been in the thrift shop, I found a few things out about Master of Disguise and how it worked.

Firstly, it was, quite literally, custom outfit loadouts. By wearing an outfit, any outfit, and coating it in a thin layer of mana, I was able to simply magic away my clothes into what I was starting to equate to some magical, pocketspace boutique. Or, if I wanted to be less gay and more toxicly masculine about it, a hammerspace armory. Whatever the terminology, by utilizing my perfect memory and envisioning the exact outfit I stored in the hammerspace, I was able to seamlessly switch into said outfits by simply twisting on my heel like Michael Jackson and churning my mana. There was no flashes of magical light or a full on magical girl transformation, either - I just did my little dancy dance and bam, new fit.

And trust me, I tried to do it without the spin. It just didn't work.

As a result, I had at least ten different outfits stored away that I'd painstakingly looted from the countless racks of used or recycled clothing in the shop. Thankfully, like the thrift shops back in my homeworld, Designer Surplus still had some nice ass clothes, used or not. Cleanliness was probably an issue, but each outfit got a thorough Cleansing Glow treatment before getting sent to the hammerspace so I didn't have to worry about bedbugs or some shit.

Since accessories counted as well, each outfit also had their very own version of eye protection in order to keep Eyes See All or None activated indefinitely. It was worth getting called a douchebag for wearing sunglasses indoors, at least until I gained a more convenient ability that did the same thing. Contact lenses, funnily enough, worked just as well, but of course they didn't have any in a thrift store. Hair ties counted as 'accessories' too, which was why my dreads were currently tied back low to my shoulders.

Formalwear, hobowear, lounge wear, gym clothes, party wear, a swimsuit complete with a leopard-printed speedo - I had to admit; I was a bit of a fashionista, and I gathered maybe a hundred and twenty dollars worth of clothes to stuff into my new magical closet. I'd always been pretty good at dressing sharp, though the fashion trends of my life were quite different from the fashion trends of Earth Bet. For example, techwear didn't seem to be much of a thing here. I could make other shit work, though - I was motherfucking Jason Black, Tarnished Hero and conqueror of fashion everywhere!

A couple minutes later saw me walking out of the dressing room outfitted for the cold evening air. At some point Squealer - or Sherrel, I guess she was right now - had ambled back towards the changing rooms, and one glance at her clammy skin and fidgeting hands told me all I needed to know. She stood there quietly, fiddling with her hands, a far cry from the spunky and loud southern belle from a few minutes ago. Whatever cognizance had built within the past fifteen minutes was quickly becoming frayed, and we had officially overstayed our welcome.

I took her by the arm and moved to head to the front counter, and she offered no resistance.

"Wha- oh! Hello, how may I help you today, sir?" The girl at the front counter was probably sixteen, seventeen - somewhat close to the age of my current self. She straightened up and leaned forward at my approach, phone forgotten completely in favor of giving me googly eyes. Impressive lack of perception, considering I had a tweaking drug fiend clinging to my hand a foot or two away.

"Cindy, right?" I asked, sliding my banged up wallet out of my pocket and taking out a couple hundreds.

She glanced down at the crisp bills, eyebrows raising. "Y-yes sir, it is. How did you…?" Her voice trailed off, unsure.

I smiled, amused. "Your nametag; it says Cindy."

Cindy blinked, her hands flying up to slap at her breast. Sure enough, the plastic nametag that ready 'Cindy' in messily scrawled marker was present. Her cheeks flushed. "Of course! Ah, I'm sorry. What is it you're checking out, Mister…"

An obvious dig for my name. My smile didn't shift.

"We're checkin' out what we got on right now, that's all. Keep the change." I was being a bit terse, but expediency was pretty important right now. I slid the bills forward, patted them once, and turned around to leave with the silently glowering Sherrel in tow.

"Wait, sir! I didn't scan your items! You- you can't just wear them before-"

The last of what she said was lost behind the closing door. I felt kinda bad, but the place didn't seem like a mom and pop shop and I definitely paid more than the necessary price for all the clothes Squealer and I had. If she called the cops, which I sincerely doubted she would, I'd just explain to them - kindly - that we'd done nothing wrong. Through the usage of Ulgu. Okay, I'd make them walk away with a simple Grey Wind spell. They were quickly starting to prove their worth when it came to avoiding unnecessary conflict.

A cold, stiff breeze hit the two of us as we made our way down the dark street, and I could feel Squealer shiver violently beneath my grip. When I turned to look back at her, she yanked her arm out of my grasp and scowled at me.

"I-I ain't cold! This jacket's just fuckin' fine. It's not too short at all."

My lips twitched. "I didn't say anything."

"Tch!" She crossed her shaking arms beneath her bust, cracked fingernails playing with a loose yellow strand on her sleeve as she stubbornly looked away from me. "Ya didn't have to."

Holding back a chuckle that I knew would further aggravate the suddenly morose druggie, I simply shook my head and shoved my clammy hands deep into the warm pockets of my new coat.

It was time to see just how close Panacea was to what I recognized from my previous life. Hopefully she wasn't as bitchy as some people made her out to be. I was liable to smack the next person who tried to bitch me out.

Amy Dallon wasn't having the best night. No, her night was actually going quite fucking horrible.

The reason?

Well, if you ignored the ungrateful and bitchy nurses who patronized her every time she came in during the late evening schedule, there were still a multitude of things going on at 'home' that made her take a sudden shift at the hospital. Carol had gotten pissed at her a couple of nights ago for going to analyze Hookwolf and attend the PRT meeting without notifying her first, so the past couple of days had been awkward and uncomfortable and even more alienating than usual. Breakfast this morning was horrible because Vicky tried to get them all to watch an old, nostalgic cartoon together like the old days, and even though Amy really didn't want to be affected by her adopted mom's cold attitude, it had fucking hurt when the woman refused and left for work without saying goodbye. Mark hadn't come out of their bedroom for a full day, so that was putting stress in the air. Amy was also on her period.

And, to make matters even fucking worse, Victoria came back home with hickeys on her neck.

Guess who was fucking Dean again?

Everything sucked. Carol sucked. She sucked. Victoria sucked, apparently in multiple ways, and to top it all off Amy couldn't even masturbate to take the fucking edge off.

She was stuck in a rut of stress, anger, and nauseating self-pity. Even doing her duty of healing drunk driving victims and self-harming teenagers did nothing to help her bad mood - not that healing, in general, was ever something she explicitly jumped for joy to do. Regardless, it was a slow night and the nurses on duty seemed hell-bent on blaming her for their own lack of work, so there was nothing to be done there either.

Amy was well and truly stuck, like a stifled breath that refused to fully engage the lungs and be set loose.

She didn't want to go home. Not yet, at least.

She didn't want to hear the gossiping voices of the other nurses on shift, with their fake smiles and judgemental gazes.

She knew what she wanted, but that was never going to happen, so…

She was stuck. Just stuck.

That was how her newest 'patients' found her, huddled in an empty hospital room with her clandestine white robes pooled around her body like a puddle of water. She was staring up at the quiet TV hanging above the bed, tired eyes glued to a Looney Tunes rerun - the same cartoon that Victoria had tried to get them all to watch earlier that morning. Daffy Duck was screaming at Bugs Bunny for getting in the way of another one of his failed schemes, and the spittle flying out of his mouth was enough to cover the screen.

Amy snickered to herself, a small smile forming on her freckled face as she watched the animated duck get progressively more angry. "Haa… what a fucking asshole," she snorted, stubbornly wiping at her eyes.

She'd rather snort sawdust than shed tears over nostalgic memories.

The sound of a masculine, vaguely familiar voice responding to her off-handed comment sent a jolt of shock and fear surging through her body. This wing was supposed to be empty.

"Daffy's a dickhead, for sure. You see the episode where they get drunk and drive off a cliff? Shit's wicked."

Amy was surging to her feet before her mind could even fully acknowledge the stranger's words.

"What are you- FUCK!"

The bad thing about dressing like some nerdy cleric from a tabletop game was that the robes were ridiculously unwieldy. It wasn't normally an issue since Amy didn't fight, and quite honestly detested the mere idea of using her powers in that way, but in cases like these where she was taken by surprise and needed to move quickly, well…

CRASH.

The hem of her robes had been caught beneath the leg of the uncomfortable hospital chair she was huddled up in, and when she went to stand and face the door… she ate shit. The cold hardness of the white vinyl floor felt just as pleasant as a kick to the chest, and Amy let out a deep, croaking woosh as the air was forcibly knocked out of her lungs.

"Oof!"

For a second there were only three emotions: Embarrassment. Frustration. A little bit of pain - but mostly embarrassment and frustration. These feelings all slammed against each other like ping pong balls inside of her stomach, and in the midst of it all Amy temporarily forgot the fear and caution that had her jerking to her feet in the first place. Instead, she just lied there for a moment, her flushed face pressed snugly against the clean, cold floor. 'Let me turn invisible, please god.'

A distinctly feminine snort, barely stifled, erupted from the doorway - and anger quickly found its way back.

"Shit, my bad. Uh, let me-" Quiet footsteps started drawing close, and self-preservation began to kick in and push away the tired lethargy. Amy forced her hands beneath her body and pushed up, kicking back with her feet to bundle her robes up and over her ankles.

"I got it," she bit out, tossing an annoyed glare towards whatever couple decided to sneak in and scare the shit out of her. "You aren't supposed to be back here without-"

"Being checked in - I know. The chick at the front desk was being a bit of a bitch, so I decided to check myself in. Here."

Black clothing temporarily overtook her view, and before she realized what was happening, warm hands were grabbing her by the biceps and gently, yet firmly, placing her up and onto her feet once again. The man stepped away as swiftly as he'd approached, getting well out of proper swinging range - because she sure as hell wasn't going to let some stranger grab her without going for some sort of smack, ineffectual or not.

With the slight distance, however, Amy was finally able to see just who was invading her Looney Tunes time… and her eyes widened.

'Avalon?'

It was embarrassing how quickly she was able to identify the tall young man in front of her. Vicky had forced her to watch the leaked footage of his fight at least five times after Bagrat dropped it in the new hero's speculation thread, and it wasn't as if he put any significant amount of effort into hiding his identity - his mask covered maybe the upper left side of his face, and literally everything else was visible for the entire world to see; the jawline, the brooding glare that his circular sunglasses couldn't fully hide, the full lips… all traits that Vicky had gushed about to her, of course.

He wasn't some flawless Adonis or anything crazy like that, but he had a strikingly attractive appearance.

Just to be sure, Amy checked the spot under his left eye, right below the tinted lens. Sure enough - there was that beauty mark as well, barely visible due to the melanin of his skin.

Why the fuck was Avalon of all people sneaking into the maternity ward?

'And, more specifically,' she thought, narrowing her eyes and leaning past him to glare at the straw-haired, cow-titted woman grinning at her with yellowed teeth. 'Why is he sneaking in here with some drug-addict?'

"You have one minute to explain why I shouldn't call for security right now." Amy said drolly, taking another three steps away from the strangers - because that's what they were, in spite of Avalon's overnight popularity online. "And don't tell me she's pregnant. I don't like liars, and that would be a pretty shitty lie to tell."

That made the blonde woman laugh out loud and shake with mirth. Wait, no - she'd been shaking ever since she entered the room, and Looney Tunes definitely wasn't funny enough to warrant that much amusement. Sweat beading the temple, shivers in spite of the relative warmth of the hospital, placid and clammy skin; these all pointed to symptoms of withdrawal.

When she looked back to Avalon, she could see by the glint in his light brown eyes that he knew that she'd noticed.

"I don't like liars either," he sighed, taking another couple steps into the room.

Amy moved backwards in time with his forward movement, but he stopped once he got close to the chair that she'd been sitting in minutes prior. At her clear bemusement, he gave a lopsided smirk and nodded his head at the Looney Tunes rerun. "Sorry, I just wanted to see the TV a lil' bit more."

She gave him a deadpan glare, and his smirk widened. "Relax, Panacea - my friend here's not well. To be honest, she's pretty much fucked in every way you can spin that term."

"Hey!" His female 'friend' scowled, taking another step inside and closing the door shut firmly behind her. Amy jumped at the sudden noise. "Didn't we speak 'bout respect? 'Cause calling me ten ways of 'fucked up' ain't very respectful."

"I said 'every way', not just ten. Drugs are bad, mmkay?" His voice was as cool and collected as it was from the leaked footage, but she could hear the amusement lurking in the foreground like a lounging predator.

The blondie's twitching gaze turned murderous. "GOD, you're such a fuckin'-"

"Hold it," Panacea cut in, raising both hands to cut the arguing duo off before they could exacerbate the headache already starting to creep into her skull. "It's been a full sixty seconds, and I haven't heard an actual explanation yet. I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you don't want me to call for security."

Avalon's head turned back towards her instantly, and the pure intensity in his gaze nearly had her reeling. 'What the hell is his problem?'

There was a sudden silence, and Amy distantly wondered why she wasn't moving towards the emergency phone line hanging at the back of the room. It was close enough since she had backed away, all it would have taken was a couple more steps. Avalon was a hero, in spite of the pretty clear case of trespassing he was deciding to sully his civilian record with at the moment. She was less sure about the drug-addict he was apparently babysitting, but she doubted he would try anything.

… So why wasn't she moving?

'Because he's watching me like a snake would a fucking mouse, and I feel like a fucking mouse right now.'

But he wouldn't attack her, right? She just had to touch an inch of bare skin to knock him out if it came down to it… right?

"I need to piss," he abruptly said, glancing away from her and giving his blonde companion a flick of the head. She twitched beneath his gaze, but sighed and walked over to the neat and orderly hospital bed in the middle of the room. The mattress squeaked and groaned when she sat down on the edge and crossed her arms.

Amy exhaled. Heavily.

"W-what are you doing? I said that you need to leave." She tried to make her tired, slightly raspy voice sound more commanding, but all it served to do was make it crack. Her ears burned in embarrassment and annoyance.

"I heard you," Avalon responded quietly, turning back towards her. The intensity in his gaze was gone now, though, and in its place was a calm, composed focus. She liked that look better.

He gestured to the blonde woman. "But she's going through a lot of shit right now, and I don't know if I can heal her. I can try, for sure, but I know you can do it. She really fucked herself up with some bad people."

Amy flinched at his words. Wasn't that basically the same as revealing his identity to her? Did he know that she knew who he was? Regardless of the meaning of his casual reveal, the naked, genuine earnestness in his voice was like arrows hitting her chest. As expected ever since she'd seen him protect Parian back at the PRT Headquarters, Avalon was practically rubbing in just how much he cared for others. Just like Victoria - always caring. Always protecting. Was it admiration or envy that burned at her heart?

Better yet, was she really going to turn them away because they'd spooked her a bit and made her fall over her robes? Because she was having a shit day? What kind of healer was she?

"It's cool if you still don't do it after hearing my little sob story - I snuck in and forced all of this bullshit on your lap. I could probably figure it out myself, given enough time. I guess throwing it all at you was the easy solution, but you shouldn't be responsible for every issue in Brockton Bay." His words broke through her sudden bout of self-pity, the sardonic gravel in his voice forcing her to blink her eyes and focus entirely on him.

He had another crooked smile on his face, but this one didn't reach his eyes. He seemed almost… guilty? "Matter a fact, let's go-"

"I'll do it."

'Fuck.'

She was both pleased at her mouth for running before her brain could process it, and upset. Pleased because that's what she'd wanted to say as soon as she saw him looking all disappointed like some brooding puppy left out in the rain, and upset because now she had this feeling of responsibility blossoming in her chest and that was compounding with the other bullshit going on in her life.

Still, a weight lifted off of her shoulders as soon as the words left her mouth. It definitely didn't have anything to do with the way that his sad puppy smile twitched up into a more genuine one. Definitely not. She just didn't like the image of someone as confident and powerful as Avalon acting so miserable and… Amy-like. Bleh.

"I know you said that I don't have to, but… I want to, as naive as that may be. I choose to help you guys out."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, and she slapped her thigh loudly.

"Really?! Damn girl, I didn't know whether you two were gonna makeout in a bout of sudden passion or headbutt each other."

Amy glared back at the addict, her ears warming up, and the blondie shot back a cheeky grin in response.

Avalon blinked. "Wait, deadass?"

Her eyebrows raised at the strange word. "Uh, yeah. As long as you promise not to pout dejectedly like I just flushed your pet goldfish, I'll do my best."

His mouth opened, denial hot on his tongue.

"Wha- I did not pout."

Amy had to fight back the urge to smile.

"A lot of different expressions can seem like a pout if you pout hard enough."

She clicked her teeth, as if pityingly, as she turned on her heel and made her way over to the blonde woman sitting on the bed.

Said woman smiled woodenly at her approach, a nervous twitch to her cheek before she jeered at the not-pouting Avalon. "Heh, she's got you there. You did kinda sound like a pussy for a second."

He flashed her the middle finger. "Bite me."

"Whatcha think I've been tryin' to do all night, douchenozzle-"

Amy cut her off with a harsh clearing of her throat. "Ahem. Do I have permission to touch you, Miss…?"

Her patient glanced over to Avalon before shrugging uncomfortably. "Sherrel. And yeah, I guess you do. Kinda weird to ask though."

She let out a long sigh. "I have to ask every patient for the sake of liability. Wouldn't it be great if I suddenly got sued by the very same people that snuck into the hospital and browbeat me into giving them healing?" She was being facetious, of course, but the constantly dry tone of her voice made everything sound facetious.

Sherrel suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"To be fair," Avalon said, leaning against the wall near the door, "I didn't browbeat you… I pouted you into helpin' us out. The minute details are important, and I want the court to know that I was dejected and sad when it happened."

Amy found herself snorting, an amused upturn on her lips, before she could think to stifle the pig-like sound. "Pfft. Get out, sir I do not know the name of. Didn't you say you needed to use the bathroom?" Sudden burst of charitable generosity or not, she drew the line at cleaning up urine.

He snapped his fingers, eyes widening. "Right, 'preciate the piss-break reminder. Play nice, girls." Before either of them could react, Avalon swept out of the room as fast as he had entered - a whirlwind of mystery and intensity.

There was a brief, awkward moment where Amy and Sherrel both stared at each other, lost on what to say without the tether that was Avalon in the room with them, before Sherrel suddenly clapped her hands and smiled nervously.

"Alright, let's get this healin' party started! My girlies are pretty fuckin' big, so if you can fix that knot in my upper back-"

Amy tuned out the woman's inane ramblings and pressed her hand against the exposed skin of her upper shoulders.

Avalon's previous statement of her being 'fucked up' had been acknowledged, but she doubted that the woman was as bad as he had been making her out to be. Outright addictive behavior wasn't something she could help her with - that was what therapy was for - but she'd helped out enough homeless people to take care of the worse of the symptoms and purge out the effects of whatever drug-

"Oh."

Sherrel jerked up in fear. "Whaddya mean 'oh'? I don't have breast cancer or anything, do I?"

Amy swallowed thickly as her powers roamed through the woman's battered, damaged, and diseased body. 'Fucked up' wasn't even the start of what she was seeing.

It was a shame that her healing didn't work through rubber gloves.

"No, not breast cancer," she said quietly, taking her hand off of Sherrel's shoulder and cracking her knuckles.

"Then what the fuck was the 'oh' for, mousy?!"

"Mousy- you know what? I'm too tired to deal with your shit right now. Lie back and stay still," Amy frowned, moving around the hospital bed in order to get a better angle on the woman's body. "This is gonna take a while."

Sherrel slowly leaned back, but the jitters were getting worse. Her bloodshot eyes began jumping from ceiling tile to ceiling tile. "W-why? What's wrong with me?"

Amy pressed two fingers against her neck. "Shhhh." Panic was never a good time in the operating room.

"Wha- wh- wuhhh… so… sleepy."

A grim, humorless smile formed on her face.

"Okay… let's start with the gonorrhea."

Sometimes - most of the time, actually - she really didn't like her job.

I splashed more hot water on my face, the steaming temperature bringing a modicum of comfort to the anxiety I was currently feeling. The men's bathroom was empty and silent outside of my repetitive splashing, and I thanked whatever God - or Devil - that was watching over Earth Bet that there was no one around to witness my embarrassing loss of composure and logic.

Perfect recollection sent another burst of insights through my head, more Amy is depressed. Amy is self-destructive. Amy is guilty. Amy feels guilty that she doesn't want to help you. Amy feels horrible that she is disappointing you. Amy feels horrible that she is disappointing herself. Amy feels sad. Amy is hiding because she feels sad. Amy is hiding because she hates her home life. Amy hates her home life because she feels like a stranger there. Amy is stressed. Amy is stressed because-

Panic attacks, the bane of cool kids everywhere.

Hidden Intuition wasn't a perk with inherent weaknesses, like, say for instance, Tattletale's Thinker ability. I didn't get headaches from overusing it. Sometimes it got overstimulating, but that was a factor of my own brain's limitations than anything inherent in the perk. I couldn't be upset at it for blowing my brain up with the extreme fucking stress that that girl was keeping buried in her chest, pressing down against her shoulders.

It was probably my fault for activating my magical Intuition full-tilt once she asked us to leave, and keeping it on in order to guide her towards helping us had only deepened the information I was gaining. It helped the situation for sure, and I didn't regret anything - well, maybe a little - but holy shit I just hadn't been expecting all of… that.

She needed to get fucked. Badly. And get high, on some really good weed… because holding all of that inside just could not be good for you. It obviously wasn't, considering the monster she became later on in Worm, but still… I felt bad for her. Being unknowingly mindfucked into wanting to have sex with your sister was bad enough without your adopted mom treating you like a fucking ginger stepchild.

'I wonder if she'd get high with us.' I wasn't a stranger to marijuana, and it was fine in moderation. Cassie definitely had some stored away somewhere.

I threw another handful of scalding hot water into my face, feeling my skin bristle beneath the heat. I wasn't a stranger to panic attacks either - they used to be pretty damn common when I was younger and dealing with a lot of stress, and experiencing all of… that probably triggered a bit of that trauma. I had a pretty good handle on it these days, so thankfully I doubted that I'd be seeing a repeat offense anytime soon.

Then again, the changes from my newest perk had contributed to my anxiety as well. Just a little.

Spoiler: Superior Being (150 CP)

Queens in Wonderland often stand out by being the best (in some ways at least) of the "species" they represent and rule over. Your basic stats are enhanced to be slightly above the average member of your species; any additional boosts to your stats are stacked up on this initial enhancement. In addition, the perk makes those of the same species of your current form more willing to follow and obey you; if you change species between forms, you also change who you affect with your charisma for this perk. For all intents and purposes, you appear as the peak specimen of whatever species you are.

The Grimoire had offered it to me mid-conversation, and after distractedly glancing over what it did I had accepted the ability without much of a second thought. An outright physical and mental boost that stacked with what I was already dealing with, alongside a straight charisma increase? Why the fuck not? Heroic Aptitude was already pushing me beyond what a normal human was capable of, and that wasn't even getting into the physical enhancements of utilizing Aethyr as well. It was pretty much a no-brainer.

That is, until I felt it changing my body.

Holding back a magical transformation while having no innate understanding of how to do so while also traversing a delicate conversation while also juggling a burgeoning panic attack was a lot to handle for little ol' me. As badass as I was, it was just a lot to handle all at once, and retreating to the bathroom gave me enough time to just…

Breathe.

I opened my eyes and glared at myself in the mirror.

Before, my skin was pretty good - I had a few blackheads maybe, but I took care of my skin as much as any other guy that showered religiously. I considered myself fairly attractive, maybe a 7.5/10 on a non-frizzy hair day and a couple whitening strips. Heroic Aptitude had been doing a number on my body, and I had shot up from 5'11" to an even 6 foot over the past week and a half. Broad, lean, corded - but imperfect, as all humans were.

Yeah, well… not anymore.

I wasn't a 'Queen' by any means, but clearly they flipped the term around and decided to label me a 'King' instead.

All imperfections seemed to have just vanished from my skin - no more blackheads, no more minor acne scars, my pores seemed to have taken a fucking vacation with how small they'd gotten, and I seemed to almost glow with health. What little baby fat that had come with my body de-aging had completely evaporated, leaving behind a handsome and chiseled face that seemed more compatible with a fucking Vogue supermodel than me of all people.

The whites of my eyes were bright and healthy - there were no more dark spots that had come from years of staring at electronics for way too long. My brown eyes seemed almost amber in their clear intensity, and my eyelashes were full and soft.

When I opened my mouth and rubbed my tongue across my teeth, they were perfectly straight and gleaming white.

That wasn't even going into my hair. How a magical perk managed to neatly and perfectly retwist my dreadlocks of all things will forever be a mystery to me, but I was thankful for the increase in hair volume and shine. Cassie's hair products were not for black people.

Overall, I still looked like Jason Black… if a God decided to take Jason Black, bang out everything imperfect or 'average' about him, and finish it all off with an airbrushed makeover.

Fuck a 10/10, I was-

A perfect, gleaming, and familiarly roguish grin formed on my lips.

"Superior. Heh… hehe… hahahaha!"

Wild laughter began to bubble out of my chest, and all thoughts of anxiety and stress fled my mind as my psuedo-maniacal cackles reached a peaking crescendo.

It was such a fucking corny line, but in that instant, I just felt relieved. Relieved that I was still the same dumb, autistic me. For a brief moment, looking in that mirror, things had felt unfamiliar. Alien. I wasn't against change, but would I sacrifice who and what Jason Black was in exchange for magical power?

I'd like to think not.

So I was just happy to know that, no matter how I looked or what magical spell I learned next, I would still be me.

That was probably the most important thing - just staying Jason Black.

Five minutes later when the laughter died down and I sat my perfect ass down on the counter, checking my phone and responding to the multitude of texts (and a few nudes) that Cassie had sent me, I had to wonder…

'Would she be pissed if I invited Amy over to smoke weed?'

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Superior Being (150 CP): Queens in Wonderland often stand out by being the best (in some ways at least) of the "species" they represent and rule over. Your basic stats are enhanced to be slightly above the average member of your species; any additional boosts to your stats are stacked up on this initial enhancement. In addition, the perk makes those of the same species of your current form more willing to follow and obey you; if you change species between forms, you also change who you affect with your charisma for this perk. For all intents and purposes, you appear as the peak specimen of whatever species you are.

600 CP remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Amy is properly introduced to Jason. I wonder what effects his interacting with her will have on the future of Brockton Bay? We also got a very interesting perk this time around, one that will have a permanent, lasting effect on both Jason's appearance and charisma. Keep it in mind if you see him finagling things a bit easier in the future - pretty privilege is a real thing. Moreso if its compounded by actual fucking magic.

Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. As always, the has the next chapter already posted so feel free to join up if you're impatient.

Note: Two perks were declined this chapter. If the perks accepted don't match up to the wordcount, know that it's because he either didn't have the CP to grab something or he declined it without much fanfare. It's hard to keep a consistent narrative going while also breaking off to analyze different perks that he won't end up taking anyway.

Chapter 26

I finished up in the bathroom pretty fast after my initial freakout.

The messages from Cassie didn't contain anything critical; it was mainly her checking up on my progress with Sherrel, a few steamy-mirrored ass shots taken from the bathroom, and a selfie of the bratty hacker winking and posing behind the back of a hunched over Sabah. In the picture it seemed like they were in the kitchen/dining room, judging by the textbook-laden table Sabah had been sitting at.

Seeing that had been a bit of a surprise, but I'd already caught Cass giggling at her phone and texting back and forth with the fashion designer ever since she'd visited the Sanctum, so it wasn't too far-fetched for her to have stopped by while I was out being a responsible vigilante.

Honestly, I was just happy that the two girls became fast friends. They both need it.

With Cassie hanging out with Sabah, 084 was my primary contact when it came to keeping up to date on any new intel. I was still expecting news about the entourage transferring Hookwolf out of the Bay, after all. Any and all plans for Operation: Empire Culling relied on that information, and the sooner I knew more the sooner I could get preparations underway. I wasn't the best strategist, but I refused to be outmaneuvered by fucking nazis.

"Talk to me, 084. What've ya'll gotten on the transfer?" I murmured beneath my breath as I made my way down the silent hallway, surrounded by nothing but sterile white walls and the occasional beep of a dying fire alarm.

There was an almost imperceptible buzz of white-noise before the Pod's tinny voice filtered into my ear.

"Emails between the Warden and Deputy Director Rennick were successfully intercepted and extracted sixty-five minutes and seventeen seconds ago, Master."

Oh? My fingers began tapping a quiet melody against my thigh.

"And I'm just hearing 'bout this?" I questioned casually, shoving my hands into the pocket of my overcoat. The tapping ceased.

"Rebuttal: You've had your communication device deactivated for the past thirty four minutes."

My lips pulled up into a wry smile. "And the other thirty one minutes and seventeen seconds?"

084's response came a second or two slower than the previous. "… This Pod was collaborating with Mistress and 'Parian' in the task of parsing visual and auditory data in preparation for future traini-"

"You were watching a movie with Cass and Sabah, weren't you?" The wry smile was quickly shifting into a shit-eating grin.

"… Affirmative."

Was it just me, or did I hear the tiniest tinge of shame in the Pod's voice? That was… kinda adorable, in a weird way.

Honestly, I couldn't find it in me to be upset about the news being delayed. It was true that I had been deafening the earpieces randomly throughout the night in order to stay focused on the events happening around me, and it wasn't like I'd demanded that they stay tense and prepped to disseminate intel while I was out. It would've been different if this was the night where I went after the Empire, but it wasn't, so…

"I'll let it slide." I chuckled, taking a hand out of my pocket and pressing it softly against the earpiece. "I'll be back in another hour or two with our new guest, so make sure you two have the info from the emails consolidated and prepared for me, 'ight?"

There was another buzz, the sound of Cassie whispering quickly in the background, a short pause, and then 084's monotonous voice returned. "Mistress told me to say 'yes daddy', but this Pod is not a human baby. Response: The data will be printed out and sorted for maximum organizational efficiency. Good luck, Master."

The door to Sherrel and Amy's room was quickly coming into view, so I relaxed the grin that was taking over my newly sculpted face. "See you soon, homie." I muttered, clicking the earpiece and quietly approaching the closed door.

I hadn't pegged Cass for the 'daddy' type, but subby brats usually had a kink like that shoved somewhere in their kink list so maybe I had just been underestimating her this entire time. It was just another thing I'd introduce her to, sexually - which I probably shouldn't be thinking about, considering I was about to enter a room with two fairly attractive women.

'No boners, Jay! It's gonna be awkward enough explaining why I suddenly became a fuckin' Tumblr model after pissing.'

Breathe.

In.

Out.

Dirty, gaping assholes. Dirty, gaping assholes!'

Alright, boner gone.

I grabbed the door knob, breathed out one final time, and swung the door open without a second thought. "Yooo. The gas station was outta cigarettes, so I decided tooo- Holy shit."

The buxom, fresh-faced blonde woman turned towards me, a clean and gleaming grin stretching wide across her plump pink lips. "Hey, big man! You won't even believe what Mousy here managed to- holy fuck?!"

Amy silently gawked, glancing between the two of us with wide eyes.

I wasn't often taken completely by surprise, especially with Hidden Intuition bolstering my natural insight and perception, but walking in and seeing the newly healed Sherrel had actually knocked me fully on my backfoot. I stared, willing my gaze to stay relatively respectful as it roved across her new appearance. She didn't try to hide the way that she was disrespectfully doing the same.

She was the same woman I had stolen from the Merchants a scant hour or two ago, but much like my newest magical ability had pushed me into supermodel territory, Amy's biomedical treatment saved the former addict from her washed-out crackwhore aesthetic and pushed her fully into 'All-American beauty' status. Tall and shapely, with a healthy glow to her previously waxy skin and a slowly growing smile, Sherrel looked like the poster woman for Sexy Mechanic Weekly.

Her hair was even cut shorter as well, though when I glanced towards the small pile of damaged yellow strands littering the floor I had a pretty good idea why. Some things just had to go.

Overall, the transformation was fucking…

"Incredible." A quiet young girl's voice pierced the silence.

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from Sherrel's new appearance and looking over at the skulking Amy. At some point during my surreptitious leering, she had wandered closer to me, most likely curious about my new looks. Now she was practically invading my personal space, brown eyes narrowed and gleaming as she reached up to touch the smooth, clear skin on my face…

I grabbed her wrist, making sure my hand touched her robes and not her skin. "Woah, lil' lady - wassup?"

"You." she shot back, half-heartedly attempting to pull her wrist out of my grasp. I let her go without a struggle, and she yanked her hand back to her chest. "What happened to your- your… everything?! You were gone for ten frigging minutes; not exactly enough time to get cosmetic surgery done." There was no suspicion in her voice - only genuine confusion, overwhelming curiosity, and what sounded like… concern?

I raised my hands in a casual attempt to placate the mousy healer. "Y'know, I could spin a whole web of lies, try to play the whole 'mysterious hero' card-"

"I thought you said you didn't like liars," Amy interrupted, a small frown forming on her lips.

I smiled thinly. "Let me finish with my dramatics, sourpuss."

"… Okay."

"'Preciate it. Now, as I was saying, while I could spi- actually, screw it, you fucked up the reveal. Truth is; my powers are pretty damn random with what they decide to toss at me, and today they decided that I wasn't handsome enough, so…"

"Your superpowers decided to just turn you into Chocolate Dynamite? Ain't that about a cunt - and here I thought I was gonna be the only one getting the bad bitch treatment tonight." Sherrel, having recovered from her own surprise, decided to interject herself into the conversation. She walked towards us like a lioness stalking its prey - or maybe a jackal would be more apt. Her wide hips swayed with a renewed confidence that only clean white teeth and unblemished skin could give you.

When she stopped beside Amy, practically towering over the petite brunette, I saw that she was eyeing me with both heightened interest and barely-contained appreciation. A wide smile was on her face.

Amy shot Sherrel a cock-eyed glance at her vulgarity, pausing as if to say something, before she shook her head and faced towards me again. "Can't say that I've ever heard of an ability that just makes you…" Her freckled face warmed up just a little bit, blood flushing red against her cheeks, before she shook her head violently. "Uh, anyways… whatever happened when you went to go piss is your business I guess. More importantly; I've done the best I can for Sherrel, physical health-wise. The mental stuff is kinda out of my hands."

"Mental stuff? I'm right fuckin' here, you know."

Ignoring the blonde for a moment, I nodded, trying my best to show just how much I appreciated her assistance through our shared eye contact. Judging by the growing heat wafting from her face in small, invisible waves of Red Wind, I figured I showed it a bit too much. Either that or I accidentally smoldered instead. "You didn't have to do anything in the first place, Panacea - so thanks. I mean that."

I glanced over to an idly posing Sherrel and gave her a meaningful glare. " We mean that."

She blinked, realizing belatedly what I was referring to, and grinned at the robed healer. "Shit yeah we do. You or him ain't have to help me out like this, clean me up and get that shit purged outta my system. Thank you, truly… mama's feelin' like herself again, after all these years!"

Sherrel's green eyes found me again, and her grin gained a salacious edge. "Can't wait to see what the rest of the night has in store."

Amy froze, the warmth in her cheeks cooling immediately at the Tinker's badly-disguised words. I didn't need Hidden Intuition activated to recognize that the sudden unamused scowl on her tired face probably wasn't a good sign. 'Uh oh… '

Warning bells weren't going off though, so I doubted that we were at risk of being supernaturally lobotomized by an angry biostriker. It seemed like she was preparing herself to say something important, so I decided to take a step back and let it all play out.

I couldn't handle everything for my minions- er, friends.

Barely a few seconds later, Amy rounded on Sherrel, her doe-like eyes glaring with an exhausted annoyance. "Sherrel, I cleaned no less than six diseases out of your body, cured a severe case of cardiomyopathy, healed an assortment of open and infected sores covering your arms and legs, reversed the decomposition and wrinkling effects the methamphetamine abuse was having on your skin, and flushed I don't know how many ounces of tar-like goop out of your-"

The blonde woman's eyes practically bugged out of her skull at the sudden avalanche of words, embarrassment and shame filling her face. "WOAH, stop! I get it, holy shit I get it! Damn Mousy, you don't gotta air out all my dirty laundry!" she blanched, her panicked hands going to cover the smaller girl's mouth only to hesitate and stop at the last second.

Amy huffed, blowing a frizzy strand of brown hair out of her eyes. "I'll stop as long as you realize that this wasn't some 'bad bitch' transformation done to make you feel better about yourself. Or to get laid. Like Aval-… he said, you were in horrible condition. As in, a few more years and I wouldn't have been surprised if necrosis got to you before I did. I don't…" She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, small hands bunching up the white fabric at her hips. "I don't do this type of treatment often for a reason, Sherrel. Don't make me regret healing you by going back and making the same mistakes."

…

Heaviness. The air was heavy with the weight of Amy's words, and I found myself nodding my head in agreement. Nabbing Squealer away from the pitiful Merchants was an easy way to get a potentially useful Tinker on my side, but while I had no problem putting her on the pathway to success, I refused to carry her down the pathway like a drugged-out baby with no sense of responsibility or willpower. I believed in helping those struggling with drug abuse if they showed a willingness to work through it themselves, but I didn't have the time or altruistic mindset to babysit them.

Either she'd nut up and become greater, or she'd sputter out and get kicked to the curb. Those were her options.

The Grimoire, peeking its eldritch head in for a brief moment, nudged forward a mote of light - this one being a magical bow that shot droves of arrows when fired. Cool, for sure, but not worth over half of my collected charge.

I brushed it away.

Sherrel had gone completely silent after Amy's little speech, much like the healer herself once she finished speaking. They stared at each other now; Sherrel's face ashen and stricken, and Amy's stoic and weary. The tinker's hands were twitching, not dissimilar to when she was going through withdrawals earlier in the night, and I subtly prepared myself to teleport between the two if she decided to be a dumbass and attack Amy for her truthful words.

Hidden Intuition began whispering in my ear, quiet and unobtrusive in its low-powered state.

Sherrel is sad. Sherrel feels self-disgust. Sherrel is angry. Sherrel is tense.

I narrowed my eyes, beginning to take a step forward and say something, but Amy's eyes suddenly cut to mine. She subtly shook her head, a tenseness in her brow.

I stopped and looked at Sherrel again. The woman was gritting her teeth now, but there was something different in her stance. Something stubborn.

Sherrel is resolute. Sherrel is resolute because she wants to be better. Sherrel is scared. Sherrel is scared because she doesn't know if she can be better. Sherrel is-

I pushed the insights to the back of my mind, and pushed Force of Spirit forward. It washed over me like ice-cold water, and I felt my tongue heat up pleasantly in my mouth.

"It's alright to be scared, you know." I spoke quietly in the long stretch of tense silence, causing both pairs of eyes to shoot towards me. Amy looked pensive, but Sherrel's gaze was almost wild. Desperate.

"I-I ain't scared, I'm just- I'm just- fuck! I'm just fucked! I don't know if I can do this right, if I can even handle tryin' everything again. What if I fuck it up?" Her voice was shrill, almost ear-piercingly so, but I easily ignored the volume and pitch in favor of moving closer.

Her eyes followed me like a frightened animal, but she didn't move away.

"You are scared, dumbass." I repeated with a small, mirthless grin. "We're all scared, all the fucking time in this city. In this world. You're scared because you don't wanna relapse. I'm scared 'cause I don't wanna lose. She's scared," I gestured to Amy, who flinched at my sudden attention, "Because she can't understand that she doesn't owe this world shit. We're all scared, Sherrel - and that fear won't ever cease to exist until we're all dead and buried."

Sherrel's grip on me was desperate and distantly painful, which meant that she was probably digging her fingers into my arms with all of her strength. I had barely even noticed when she lunged the short couple feet between the two of us and grabbed hold of me.

"Then what the hell do I do? How- how do I keep going, keep tryin', when I'm just scared of fucking up all the time?! What if that fear m-makes me go back to the shit I was doin' before? What if I wake up with these clean new teeth and this fresh new skin and I want a hit so bad that I fuckin' vomit?" Her grip loosened slightly, and she sagged against my chest.

"I've quit before, boss man. I've quit a lot of times. You saw where I ended up anyway." There was defeat in her tone. In her eyes. In the way that she tugged on my sleeves desperately, as if asking me to take on her burdens for her.

I had never experienced addiction myself.

My mother, may her soul rest in peace, had been an abuser of drugs - first starting with weed, and then nicotine, and then shit like molly and benzos. She was a victim of bipolar and clinical depression, and though my childhood was… rough, to say the least, she had done her absolute best to raise me and my siblings into decent young men and women in spite of her many, many pitfalls. In the end, she managed to become clean and fight against the terrible path laid before her by her younger self, and her last years were spent happy and clear-headed with the people she loved.

There had been nothing easy about the road she traveled. There had been nothing pleasant about recovery and rehab. The truth of the matter was that life was hard, painful, it fucking sucked, and a lot of the times it was just blatantly unfair. Boo fucking hoo.

That didn't mean you stopped fighting.

"You don't get over addiction by just stopping," I said quietly, my voice rough from a sudden burst of emotion that I couldn't even begin to figure out right now. I cleared my throat, but it didn't go away. "That ain't how it works. You recover, get stronger, and fight against all of that shit inside of you by making a new life. Meeting new people. Experiencing new things. That's what I'm offerin' you. You can stay scared, stay fearful - matter of fact, use that fear as motivation. But if you stay the same Sherrel as before, stay in the same lane as before, you're just gonna end up back in the same hole you started in."

My volume began to rise as I spoke, and it was only after I saw Amy staring dazedly from the corner that I realized that I was unconsciously talking to the both of them, not just the teary-eyed, shivering blonde woman in my arms. Since when did I become such a fucking sap?

"You're not alone in this. I already told ya before - I got you. You stay with me, rage against your own fuckin' weaknesses every step of the way, and I'll make sure you win. No matter what. 'Ight?"

I could feel her heart beating rapidly between us, in time with her rapid breathing.

"… Yeah."

After her muttered response, there was silence for a full thirty seconds, where Sherrel simply shivered against my chest and breathed in and out in deep, shuddering breaths. I didn't have my Second Sight activated, so when Amy stiffly made her way around the middle of the room where we were standing and exited out the door, I wasn't too sure what to think. I hadn't expected all of… this to transpire. Considering the fact that Sherrel was a brand new recovering drug addict, maybe I should have expected her miniature melt down, but it had been years since I had to deal with my mom's fits and I was rusty.

I could only hope that I'd handled it decently enough. Superior Being was supposed to make other human beings more liable to follow and obey me, in addition to Force of Spirit bolstering my natural charisma, but how effective those two together would be in regards to motivating and helping out a panicking drug-abuse victim was hard to quantify.

Thinking about it, maybe something in my words helped out Amy, too. Her thing with Vicky was pretty much the equivalent to addiction, right?

Sniffle.

I glanced down at the blondie currently using my new shirt as a snot-rag, and she offered a watery, gleaming white grin as an apology. "Heh, sorry 'bout that big guy. Guess it's not very lady-like to wipe your nose on ya boss's new clothes, eh?"

I shrugged my shoulders, smirking dryly. "Go 'head and snot away - just keep it off the skin. Can't switch that as easily as I can switch out jackets."

She chuckled, reluctantly pulling herself out of my arms and patting down my sleeves and collar. There actually wasn't much in the way of snot or tears on my shirt, but the gesture seemed to make her happy so I inwardly shrugged my shoulders and allowed her to have her little mother bird moment.

When Sherrel finished making me 'presentable', the blondie took a step back and peered down at my shoes, wrapping her arms around her bare midriff self-consciously. I glanced down as well, just to make sure that my shoes weren't untied or something, but nope - everything seemed in order.

Hidden Intuition made a farting noise in my ear, and I blinked. 'Right. She's embarrassed.'

I hated the way my brain worked sometimes.

"So…" I murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"…"

"Listen," I sighed, taking a step back and crossing my arms over my chest. "I meant what I said - there's no awkward, 'spur of the moment' bullshit happening here. You work for me, you work with me, and I got you. That's all there is to it."

"Is it now?" Sherrel ventured, looking up to meet my eyes. Naked hope lit up her eyes, arms tightening around her lean stomach as she stared at me. "I believe ya, I really do. Don't know why I believe in you this much, but… I'm willin' to put it all on the line for whatever crazy shit you got going on. Gotta be a better life than what I was livin' before."

My lips quirked up, and when I began making my way towards the exit, Sherrel immediately moved to follow. "Yeah? Well, we'll see how good you feel about everything once I hit you with the game plan.. Panacea only healed your body - I don't think she gave you big ass balls."

I held the door open for the woman, and she side-eyed me with a challenging grin as she moved past me into the hallway.

When I stepped out right after, closing the door behind me, her finger prodded my chest firmly. Not hard or jarring, just firm.

"Oho, I've got balls, darlin'. Big 'uns, too. You get me the shit I need to start working on some of these bitchin' new ideas jumping around in my brain, and I'll show you what I can do. Me and my babies are gonna kick ass!" There was no innuendo behind her words for once, only a cocky, sure confidence that seemed genuine and real - like she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that her 'babies' were going to be impressive.

And I… didn't doubt it. At all, actually. She made some pretty baller shit while high out of her mind and dealing with several physical defects. I could only imagine what she'd be capable of with magic and resources behind her.

"Looking forward to it," I replied, easy and simple. Her finger lingered on my chest for a couple seconds longer, the mechanic's eyes tracing the shell of my face, before she let out a low breath and rapped her knuckles against sternum. If I was a lesser man, it may have made me wheeze a little bit, but the only reaction it got out of me was a bemused blink.

Sherrel's last response was a cheeky wink before she sashayed past, heading the wrong way down the hall.

Nothing more needed to be said after that.

After grabbing her by the collar of her jacket and turning her around, we headed back towards the main lobby of the hospital. Sherrel was a bit nervous in spite of the bravado that she wore around her heart like armor, but my steps were unhurried and casual. I wasn't worried about being seen or caught out by the night shift nurses. Call it arrogance or complacency, but the 'threat' of a few muggle 30-somethings with crow's feet throwing a hissy fit about my trespassing just didn't concern me enough to bother with illusion magic.

Getting in had required a small bit of Aethyr manipulation. Getting out just required confidence and the ability to act like you knew where the fuck you were going.

A couple minutes into our walk, the Grimoire decided to come in clutch with another freebie - this one being a relatively simple ability that allowed me to enhance my melee or weapon attacks with mana in order to increase their destructive capabilities. A basic technique through and through, but combined with the ludicrous reserves of magic I had rampaging through my core nowadays I was sure that Magic-Enhanced Attacks would be seeing plenty of use. Just another thing I needed to practice with.

Fortunately, with that little moment of excitement over, we didn't run into any other interesting things on our way back to the elevator. The maternity ward was on the third floor of the hospital, and while I could have spent extra time searching for the stairwell… Well, I was kinda lazy and didn't see the need. Elevators were useful.

That was probably for the best, since the person who greeted us when the elevator's doors opened was…

"Panacea?"

I took a step back, almost bumping into Sherrel who grunted out an annoyed 'watch it', but the short healer didn't take my silently offered path out of the elevator. A bit shaky and out of breath, she clutched something in the folds of her draping sleeves, staring up at me with indiscernible emotions battling in her eyes. Her body language was nervous and stiff, a telltale sign that she was getting ready to say or do something that made her feel uncomfortable or awkward.

When her hand moved and I caught a glimpse of her phone screen - a picture of her scowling and some super hot blonde chick, Glory Girl, grinning at the camera - my mind subconsciously put the clues together and came to a couple of conclusions. Either she left the room and had a change of heart about everything, hence the phone and a probable call to the proper authorities, or she… wanted my number?

For some reason?

My eyebrows raised.

"A-Avalon," she said quietly, almost like she was trying to keep my identity a secret. It was pretty cute. I barely even had a 'secret identity', and it wasn't like I was seriously trying to live an actual double life. At this point the mask was mainly for aesthetics.

"Panny." I intoned again, giving her a wry smile.

"Sherrel!" My minion called over my shoulder, looking awfully amused at the uncomfortable situation happening in front of her. I snorted and pushed her back with an elbow.

"Ugh, smartasses," she grumbled, shooting the two of us a flinty, half-amused glare. "Listen, I just clocked out of my shift; they don't like me working past ten PM on school days, anyway, and I wanted to ask you something…"

Panacea trailed off, the awkwardness in her stance growing.Before she could muster up whatever courage was flagging in her chest to continue, the elevator made a loud dinging noise and began closing right in front of her face.

"Shit!" She flinched, eyes widening and hand reaching out in a delayed attempt to halt the built-in sensors, but I slid inside and yanked Sherrel in by the wrist before the doors could shift more than a few inches.

Having significantly heightened reflexes and magically-enhanced dexterity made avoiding elevator incidents a breeze.

"Woof, how 'bout a warning next time?!" Sherrel exclaimed, staggering to the side and holding onto the only railing in the elevator.

"My bad." I chuckled, unrepentant, before looking back over to Amy. "Anyways, you were sayin' something before the elevator got all sassy…?"

"R-right," she breathed, shaking her head and stepping away from the doors. There was a brief second where the elevator rattled and began moving, but Amy seemed pretty steady on her feet - probably due to constant flights with her superman-ass sister. "Right. I, er, wanted to talk to you before you two left the hospital."

"Just him?" Sherrel pouted, crossing her arms beneath her perky chest and sneering. The expression was so exaggeratedly fake that she broke it almost immediately, a grin shining through. "Can't say I blame ya, Mousy. Guy's a fuckin' stud-"

"-ies show that one of the most sincerest forms of respect," I interrupted, giving Sherrel a bemused glance, "Is shuttin' the fuck up and letting the cute chick with freckles speak her piece."

The mechanic clammed up, though the grin on her face didn't diminish.

"Continue." I smirked crookedly at Amy, and she turned from giving Sherrel a squinty-eyed glare to glaring at me, though the twitching of the corner of her lips and the familiar crimson creeping up her cheeks robbed the look of any sort of intimidation.

"Wow, giving me permission to speak. Thanks," she muttered, finally smoothing her soft, bipolar little lips into a facsimile of an unimpressed frown. "And my 'freckles' aren't cute, for your information. They're called ephelides, and they're the byproduct of me having an abusive relationship with UV rays. Not cute." Her grumbling voice turned almost shy towards the end of her little sciencey rant, and I found my smirk growing in spite of myself.

"You often drop mini biology lessons when someone gives you a compliment?" I wondered aloud.

Her unimpressed frown was starting to border into pouting territory.

"When the compliments are both unrelated to my job and incorrect? Yeah, I do. My freckles are not cute."

I tilted my head. "I wasn't talking 'bout your freckles, I was talking 'bout your face. But now that you mention it…" I lowered my sunglasses and peered closer at the flushing healer, my statuesque form practically dwarfing her mousy body. It wasn't even on purpose, considering the cramped space of the relatively small elevator.

She froze at my close proximity, and I had the pleasure of hearing the way that her breath caught in her throat - a little hiccup of air that sounded more like a strangled squeak than an actual gasp. Amy's nervousness was different from Cassie's heated, arousing brattiness. If Cassie's submissive behavior was akin to a black cat batting its little paws, butt wagging and ears twitching, Amy was comparable to a spooked, wide-eyed doe in the face of a playful predator.

And yeah, the tiny little brown spots of melanin dotting across her face was adorable.

I had to stop myself from enjoying the moment too much. Was I fucked up? Maybe a little bit.

"… What?" She breathed, wide brown eyes moving like pinballs as they studied my expression - or what small amount of emotion was even on display. Her back pressed against the cool metal wall of the elevator without her even realizing.

I smiled. "Nothin'. Your face is just cute too."

My eyes narrowed, and I peered closer.

Amy is confused. Amy is flustered. Amy is nervous. Amy is scared. Amy is hopeful-

DING.

As soon as the elevator doors opened I backed away from Amy and moved into the hallway, smoothly maneuvering around an older-looking brown-haired nurse wearing pale blue scrubs. Sherrel, with a broad grin and a mysterious twinkle in her eyes, followed mere moments after. She straight up ignored the nurse, who stared after us with befuddlement and surprise.

"Oh! Er, excuse me but what are you doing back here? I told you before, at the front desk, that you're not-"

"They're personal patients of mine. I'm walking them out before I head home." The healer's brisk, only slightly out-of-breath voice cut the lady off.

Amy hurried out of the elevator, sweat beading her brow and a confusing expression of mixed emotions on her flushed, freckled face. Slowly walking backwards as I was, ignoring Sherrel's bemused stare, I was able to see just how tense the air became between the two of them. The nurse clearly held some sort of grudge or dislike against the young healer, and Amy… Well, she just straight up didn't like the woman. Probably for good reason since the woman was a bitch.

How dare she do her job and keep shady men like me out of private locations?

"I see," the nurse said blandly, looking down her nose at the much shorter girl. "I take it you already clocked out then, Panacea?"

"Yep," Amy responded with a popped P, equally as bland. Her flush had already dissipated, cooling down into her normal fair tone, and her eyes were like lasers with how they dead-eyed the nurse. "I'll see you next week, Rosie - I put in a request for the 4 PM shift tomorrow. You don't work those early hours, right?"

The words were polite enough, but the underlying meaning of 'I don't fuck with you' was sharp and catty. I let out a low 'ooooh', quiet enough to only be picked up if you listened for it or had decent enough hearing.

Judging by the hastily stifled smirk, Amy heard it.

Rosie clicked her tongue, hazel eyes narrowing imperceptibly. A fake smile formed on her lips. "I don't. I'd say good luck with the afternoon rush, but I doubt you need it. Being a cape and all."

Oof, backhanded as fuck. I expressly didn't make an 'ooooh' noise this time. Maybe I was a bit biased, but Rosie was a bitch so fuck her. Amy healed my mini- er, Sherrel, not this dried up wine aunt.

Amy, in her defense, didn't let anything show on her placid face. She merely nodded her head and turned away, walking towards Sherrel and I. "Thanks, I'll handle everything. Don't worry, I'm used to doing that here." I couldn't see what expression she threw over her shoulder, but considering the sneer that appeared on Rosie's face when Amy turned back around to us, I doubted it was anything less than infuriating.

The middle-aged woman walked briskly into the elevator, jabbing the buttons, and Amy settled into step between Sherrel and I. As we crossed the threshold into the nearly empty lobby of the hospital, Amy let out a slow, shuddering breath. A tenseness that had seemed so natural and constant in the girl's shoulder eased out just a little.

That is, until Sherrel threw her arm around them in a half-hug.

"A lil' bit of in-house melodrama, huh?" She stage-whispered in that high-pitched drawl of hers, looking down to smile at the high-strung healer. "You stuck it to that bitch pretty good! I, personally, would've tossed a lil' kick at her bony ass, but…"

"Fighting over something as petty as 'workplace rivalries' is stupid," Amy's response was as dry as rice crackers, and the girl shrugged Sherrel's surprisingly toned arm away. "And don't hug me, Sherrel - I was just fingers-deep in your gallbladder half an hour ago."

If the mechanic was offended by the shortness, her smile definitely didn't show it.

"Somehow I don't think kicking a nurse's ass in the hospital woulda went over too well," I chuckled lightly, resting my hands in my pockets. "That was the same woman who refused to page you, said you were 'preoccupied with other patients'."

The automatic doors opened at our approach, revealing the misty darkness of late night Brockton Bay. It was colder than it was earlier, and I could feel the brisk coolness even through my new coat. Sherrel was immediately shivering once we fully stepped outside.

"Most of the staff's not like that. She and a few of her friends are just… bitchy. They don't like the attention I get whenever I'm on shift here, as if I asked to be a city-wide microcelebrity." Amy shook her head, cheeks and nose becoming warm once again as the cold wind began smacking her in the face. "Shit it's cold…"

"T-t-tell me about i-it!" Sherrel's new white teeth clacked together loudly as she began rubbing her arms through her short yellow jacket. "Fuck! I'm gonna walk a lil' bit, try to get some heat circulating. Yell for me when you're done makin' kissy faces, boss man."

Before I could say anything, the shivering woman breathed out a haze of cool white mist and began power-walking towards the other end of the barren parking lot. She kinda looked like one of those fitness moms from the back with her arms pumping like that - the ass she had was definitely MILFy enough to qualify. If I had to rate it on Pixar MILF level of scaling, I'd have to give it a smooth 'Aunt Cass' outta ten.

A clearing of a throat brought my attention back down to Amy, and the red-nosed girl gave me a sneer even as she folded her arms into the sleeves of her robes. "Can't even let it rest for a few minutes, can you?" Her voice and face was deadpan.

I blinked dumbly, mind still distracted by the thought of Pixar MILFS. "What?"

She sighed and smirked, as if I'd just said the dumbest thing in the world. "Nothing. Just- can you, uh, take out your phone?"

Right, the whole phone thing that she had awkwardly pussyfooted around back in the elevator. Since she was clocked out and obviously not planning to call the cops, the only other reason was pretty damn obvious to me now. I was… not not happy about it. She was a pretty chill chick - a bit uptight and grumpy, but considering the emotions I had taken a glimpse at before, I couldn't really blame her.

That didn't mean I wouldn't tease her, though. I wouldn't be me otherwise.

"You're not gonna, like, boot gang my shit and run home to your superhero fam, right?"

There was a cheeky little grin on my face that showed that I was being intentionally facetious. The Grimoire peeked its head in, attempting to wrangle a small mote of light that I got a distinct impression of 'smoke-bombs' from, and I internally brushed it away.

Amy glowered. "Why the hell would I -… what does that even mean, Avalon?"

I slowly began pulling my smartphone out. The screen was filled with more text notifications - from both Cassie and Sabah. "'Boot gang' is just dumb slang for 'stealing'. I'm tryna make sure this whole 'sweet and sour' healer shtick ain't a ruse to ensnare and rob me."

"Well that's stupid; I already have a phone, mine's newer than yours, and I am not a thief. I just wanted to ask you something. About your phone. Or, shit - not ask, but tell you something and you could decide if you wanted to say yes or no. Damn it, Vicky usually handles this part…"

She was stalling again.

I peeked down at Amy through my lashes, thankful that my gaze was mostly hidden. She was side-eyeing my phone hard, trying not to make it obvious that she was both interested in the little popups and satisfied that I had actually taken it out. Her hands gripped her own mobile device tightly.

Amy is hopeful. Amy is hopeful because she wants to get to know you better. Amy wants to get to know you better because your words gave her hope. Amy is nervous. Amy is nervous because she doesn't know how to ask you for your number-

She was scared of taking initiative, eh? I could work with that.

The words began leaving my mouth before my brain could fully parse them.

"So how 'bout this - we avoid any awkwardness or bad vibes by me straight up-" I flicked my contact over to her phone, and she blinked and looked down as it pinged, asking for confirmation. "-doing that, and then, before we freeze our balls off in the cold, I-"

"I don't have balls," Amy muttered distractedly, still looking down at the confirmation button on her phone.

"-walk you home, make awkward eye contact with your mom, avoid her pointed questions, and then fly off into the su- uh, moon. How does that sound?"

There was a pause.

Amy clicked the button on her screen, accepting my contact info, before looking back up at me. The redness on her cheeks were partially from the cold night air, for sure, but I wasn't a dense teenager anymore… she was definitely blushing. The freckles just made it even more apparent.

"… Okay," she said, a small, brittle smile forming on her lips. "But just to be clear - this is a 'friend' thing, right? I'm not expecting or, er, wanting anything more than that. We've just met, and I don't think I'm ready for anything like that right now anyway. I just want to try meeting new people. Making new friends."

"Say less," I raised my hands, my smile not shifting in the slightest. "Call it whatever you want - platonic, professional, egregiously sexual. We didn't hold hands or anything crazy, but intimate eye contact is considered a crime before marriage in some countries." My brows wiggled, and Amy snorted. Loudly.

"That sounds like a better policy than whatever America has going on. I think I've seen at least three homeless people having sex publicly in the past month." She shuddered, and it was honestly a toss-up whether it came from a place of disgust or just lack of warmth.

I chuckled. "They're homeless, Panny - it's not like they have anywhere else to fuck." I put more emphasis on the swear word, and Amy shot me a disgusted side-eye.

"Ugh, why'd you say it like that?"

"What? Panny?"

"Don't be obtuse, you know what I'm talking about. And don't call me Panny. "

"Mmm…"

I tilted my head past Amy, ignoring her prodding, doe-eyed stare, and quickly spotted Sherrel in the darkness of the parking lot. She was still moving in circuits around the area, but now she was doing full-on lunges as she worked to keep her blood pumping. She wasn't so far away from us that I couldn't spot the wide, sweaty smile on her face - the woman was definitely enjoying her new physical health.

I could only imagine the clarity of self that came with a supernaturally-empowered detox. Outside of the lingering self-destructive tendencies, she must have felt fucking fantastic. I barely knew her outside of our conversations today and my memories of Worm, but something was moving inside of my chest. Either it was heartburn from the pizza pockets I had earlier, or… I was feeling some form of pride. Not a familial or romantic pride, but something akin to a teacher and a student? A boss and a worker?

A master and a slave?

'Nah, nah, nah - that's the horniness speakin', Jason. Don't let it win.'

"What's her deal, anyway?"

Amy had turned to watch the woman's weird little exercise/warm-up routine, and the question sounded genuinely curious. Maybe a little pointed, with a dusting of suspicion, but mainly curious. I'd take that.

"I helped her out of a bad situation, gave her a new lease on life. I just hope she takes it seriously." I replied quietly, watching Sherrel almost bust her ass doing a cartwheel in heeled boots. When she barely avoided eating the pavement, she slowly stood back up, brushing her palms off on her shorts and peeking back at us.

Almost in sync, we both waved.

The blonde bombshell blanched.

"She was a criminal, wasn't she?" Amy's muttered inquiry was more of a statement than a question. I glanced down at her, but she wasn't looking at me - she was still staring across the parking lot, where Sherrel was back up and doing slow lunges in our direction. The healer's face was unreadable.

"Yeah." My finger began tapping against my thigh.

She exhaled a long and drawn-out sigh. I didn't say anything more - no defenses, no explanations, no excuses. I hadn't lied at any point during this whole fiasco. Stretched the truth or kept some things in the dark, sure, but I hadn't outright lied. I wasn't ashamed of anything, either.

"She was really fucked up, Avalon. I don't do brains whatsoever, so any damage to her prefrontal cortex, the destruction of myelin and glial cells, some of her central nervous system - those are things that I can't fix or heal. It'll have to happen naturally, or you'd have to take a look."

"I know."

"What if she relapses? Goes back to selling drugs, hurting people?" The monotonous delivery of her voice was fading, replaced by something more challenging, more judgemental.

"She won't." I glanced down again, and Amy was glaring up at me, a stubborn and frustrated look in her eyes.

"You don't kno-"

"She won't." I repeated more firmly, the lax and casual tone of my voice lowering into something more sharp and serious. A wave of heat ran through my body, from my head to my toes, and I let out a sigh of my own. "I won't let her. No one good helped Sherrel before me, and the ones who did decided to use and abuse her. She's not perfect. Shit, I'm not perfect. But I believe that most people can change with a little help from those who believe in them, and I believe in her."

My tone lightened, and a small, crooked smile dimpled my cheeks. "Call it a gut instinct… the same one that told me to send you my phone number."

Amy didn't respond, but the frustration in her gaze softened into something else. Before I could peer closer, get more of an insight into her emotions, Sherrel finally arrived in all of her sweaty, flushed glory. She was even sniffling.

"Holy shit, that was somethin' else. Was gonna just warm myself up with some walkin', and then I remembered how good it felt to do a lil' exercise. Get that gluteus maximus all bouncy!"

She paused, glancing between the two of us, and her brows furrowed. "Somethin' happen? He ain't touch you inappropriately, right Mousy? 'Cuz if he did, I call next-"

"Stop it, get some help." I cut her off, digging into my pockets and nudging the Magic Mirror mote of light currently resting in my soul. When 'lost', certain items from the Grimoire returned to the place they originated from - me. And considering the fact that it was currently in the pocket of my Avalon costume, which was stored in a whole separate fucking dimension, I figured that the Grimoire would count it as missing. Judging by the feeling of cool glass against my palm, I figured correctly.

In order to use my loadouts effectively, I'd have to find some way to change that little feature, but until then…

I pulled out the small, gilded little pocket mirror, making sure not to look into it. "You're freezin' your tits off 'cause of your ridiculously revealing outfit, right Sherrel?" I asked offhandedly, using my other hand to scroll through my contacts and start sending out a few texts to Cassie. Another ass pic, this one with Sabah in the background rolling her eyes with a smile, had me quickly moving my screen away from the others.

Heart emoji reaction, double click, save image to camera roll. Thank you.

Sherrel shrugged her shoulders, giving me a funny look. "A little bit less since you just burned me, ya jackass, but yeah I'm pretty cold. Why'd you think I started jogging around?"

"You also skinned your palms," Amy commented like a disappointed mother, holding her pale hand out expectantly.

"Uh…"

The healer rolled her eyes. "Do I have permission to touch you?"

"Oh! Shit! Hell yeah."

I saw a brief glimpse of flayed flesh and droplets of blood before Sherrel grinned and grabbed Amy's outstretched hand with both of hers. There was a brief few seconds of silence and stillness, where Sherrel relaxed and sighed in relief, and then she was pulling her freshly healed hands back and rubbing them together. "Thanks, Mousy."

"You're welcome. And that's not my name, unless you want me to start calling you 'cow tits'."

Sherrel snickered. "Think you can make 'em lactate with those powers of yours?"

"… You're a freaking perv."

I had to cough in order to hide my own laughter.

"Ahem. Anyways, Sherrel - say hi to Cass and 084 for me, 'ight? And don't drink all the fuckin' soda."

The mechanic stared at me, mouth open. "… Boss man, what the fuck are you talking 'bou- HEY!"

Sherrel yelped, scrambling to catch the ornate, expensive-looking glass mirror that I'd just tossed in her direction. Her reflexes weren't bad at all, and after a couple of seconds of playing hot potato by herself she managed to hold it firmly in her freshly healed hands.

"The hell was that about?" She groused, looking down at the pretty mirror. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of herself in the reflection. "Hey, holy shit. I look good enough to fuck-"

WOMP.

There was a bright flash of blue light that forced Amy and I to look away, and then… Sherrel was gone.

Cassie, Pod 084, and Sabah, if she was still hanging out at the Sanctum, would be ready and waiting a respectable distance away from the spot I had long since established as my 'spawn point' for the Magic Mirror, which was in the middle of the Sanctum's massive training room. I had warned Cass, via text, that she'd be showing up there relatively soon, and to 'be on your best behavior' since she'd be understandably startled.

'I'm sure it'll be fine!'

"Uh," Amy swallowed, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision. "What the fuck just happened? Where did cow- Sherrel go?"

"Magic," I shrugged, flicking my head in the direction of the sidewalk. My voice lowered provocatively. "Wanna head to your place?"

She side-eyed me again, a wry smirk on her face. "Maybe not when you say it like that. And you didn't answer my question, Avalon."

I began walking backwards across the parking lot, muttering almost silently beneath my breath to activate my Second Sight. As soon as I could see through my second pair of eyes, my movement became more smooth and confident. "Just call me Jason," I responded lightly, shoving my hands in my pockets again. The biting cold really wasn't a fucking joke.

Amy slowly walked after me, her arms crossed and a quirk to her brow. "Alright, Jason, just call me Amy." Her smirk twitched into a smile, and she sped up to keep pace. "Now spill. Was that mirror some sort of Tinkertech? I thought you were a Trump."

"It's aptly called the Magic Mirror, and it teleports whoever looks into it back to my crib." I shrugged my shoulders again. "Tinkertech, though? Nahhh. It's just magic, baby."

She didn't believe me when I said it wasn't Tinkertech. At all. I could see it in the way that she rolled her eyes and blew a curly lock of frizzy brown hair out of her face. But she wasn't pressing me about it, and that was good enough for me. I could only handle a certain amount of pushiness.

"Fine," she said, gripping the sides of her robes in order to jog the rest of the distance between us. When she made it to my side, she let out a low huff and elbowed me lightly in the hip. I barely even felt the tap. "And that's for not telling me that I was healing a criminal. I don't regret it, she's… nice, but next time just tell me."

I whistled. "You mean the next time I bring an unhealthy and traumatized woman to your doorstep? That's an awfully specific instance, Amy, I don't know if I can-"

"You know what I mean, Jason!"

I laughed, twisting around on the balls of my feet so that I was facing the same way she was. The sidewalk was crumbled and dusty beneath our feets, and the street ahead looked as shady as all get out, but there were still cars moving to and fro and the streetlights weren't completely dim. It would probably be an intimidating walk to the nearest bus stop, or wherever the Dallon Family Residence was.

"So," I said as we walked in comfortable silence, glancing down at the petite brunette, "Where am I takin' you, ma'am? This undercover hero is here to protect and serve."

We were walking pretty close together, her left arm knocking and brushing against my right, and our shared body heat had practically shoo'd all of the cold away. Her nose had lost its bright red hue, and the subtle shivering had all but ceased. With her short, curly brown hair bundled around her freckled face and the dark circles beneath her eyes, I was getting the vibes of a particularly tired red panda.

"Heh, 'undercover'? You know that your face is practically fully exposed beneath that tiny mask, right?"

"Point," I nodded in amusement.

"And we're going to the bus stop, aren't we? I live on Captain's Hill, near the edge of town. Had to take two cab rides to get to the hospital." The tone Amy used was casual, flippant even, so the wide-eyed glance I tossed her way seemed exaggerated in response.

"What?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's like an hour's walk from here, two if you got bad ankles. How the hell do you get to school on time?"

Amy rolled her eyes. "If I'm going out, it's usually because I'm with a blonde-haired speeding bullet named Glory Girl. How fast can you run?"

I shrugged. "Pretty fuckin' fast."

"Vicky can probably go double that." Amy said simply, like it it was a matter of fact. Considering when I was in my human form I was a mage and not some brick with an Alexandria package, I couldn't exactly refute the arrogant claim, but that didn't mean I was happy about it.

"Ahem, you're glazing." I coughed into my fist, turning my head away.

"Excuse me? Did you just say that I'm 'glazing'?"

She didn't even know what the saying meant yet she was getting offended. The sight of her cheeks growing rosy again forced a chuckle out of me.

"Yeah, pretty badly - it's cool though. I'll show you speed."

"Wh-"

I peeled off to the left, twisting on the heel of my new shoes and coating my body in a thin layer of mana. There was a moment of weightlessness, where my body suddenly hovered off of the sidewalk and curled into itself, but it passed almost immediately and a second later I was landing back on my feet as Avalon, the Tarnished Hero, complete with badass costume and a mask that did jackshit to hide my identity. I still had to make my full title known outside of the PRT - they clearly weren't trying to market me correctly.

"… Woah. What was all of that for?" Amy stared at me, wide-eyed and confused, before glancing around anxiously. Downtown wasn't completely barren - there were still cars driving down the street, and the occasional stranger passed by with barely a glance, heads down and movement brisk, but it wasn't like I necessarily gave much of a fuck. If I had family in this world, sure, but I was barely any better than a Case-53.

"A ride," I grinned, moving over to the side of the road - the sidewalk was a bit too thin. "You ever flown on a winged serpent before, Panny?"

She blinked, gears whirring in her brain. It was like a bomb went off inside of her skull when something big clicked.

"No freaking way. You're the Quetzalcoatl that's been popping up online? Do you even realize how many religious arguments you've caused over the past week?!" Amy hissed, stepping closer and lowering her voice as if there was anyone around to even hear us. She seemed more curious and interested than anything else, though. She was practically vibrating as she clenched her robes and watched me.

"Some Merchant dude did call me a God before. Heh, maybe they're right." I replied, stretching my arms and cracking my back. Transforming always made my bones feel a bit tense.

The vibrating stopped, and Amy gave me an exaggeratedly disappointed stare. "I refuse to believe you're that full of yourself."

"If I'm my own biggest fan, the only weight I gotta carry on my back is the pressure of my own expectations." I started doing half-squats in order to stretch out my hamstrings and wiggle my toes.

She paused, and her gaze turned annoyed. "That's… actually very insightful and motivational. How can you say such deep things while being so ridiculous?"

I winked. "Make that your senior quote, say Avalon the Tarnished God-King Wizard said it to you in a moment of affectionate fragility."

"Yeah, I don't think I will. I don't think I'll do any of that, actually."

"Your loss, lil' panda. Stand back real quick."

Her face slackened. "… Little-"

I touched the magical power inside of me, the mana that roiled and purred like an infinite number of predators calling my name. It responded immediately, running through every inch of my body, pulling my human body inside and pushing out a larger, more majestic form.

In a flash of golden and white energy, I was once again the feathered serpent of yore, black wings spread proudly like a bald eagle. With a body twelve feet in length, my transformation had me practically inches away from Amy's shell shocked face when I 'kneeled' - that is, bent my lithe upper body down towards the sidewalk.

"Wow."

For once, the apathetic mask had completely splintered away from Amy's face, leaving her looking surprisingly young and innocent with her mass of freckles, reddening button nose, gaping mouth, and wide, doe brown eyes. I just could not imagine the girl in front of me as the absolute monster she'd become in the future. The same girl who defiled her sister and ended up in the fucking Birdcage. It just refused to connect in my brain, like hearing Barry White's voice come out of fucking Justin Bieber.

I wouldn't let it happen.

"Can I…"

Her hand froze midway to my plumage and hesitated. She wanted to touch the array of rainbow-like feathers along my neck, that much was obvious, but she was still holding herself back from 'misusing' her powers. Still being the cautious and rigid healer. That tenseness in her shoulders had returned, the stiffening of her posture. Even now, her mind was probably in conflict with itself, a mix of her Shard wanting data on this new, mysterious lifeform, her professional curiosity wanting to know how it all ticked, and her girlish wonder just wanting to touch pretty things.

Amy is nervous. Amy is tense. Amy is amazed. Amy really wants a ride.

Amy needed to relax and have some fun… and in that moment, I knew just what to do to make this evening memorable for her. I just needed to get the right vibe going…

"N-nevermind, I guess. Were you planning to grip me by the shoulders, or- WOAH!"

Before she could lower her hand, I palmed my comparatively massive head against her hand and body, gently flicking her up and over my head with only the smallest of effort - slim though I may be, my serpentine form was absolutely corded with muscle fiber, something she was probably realizing since her arms were wrapped halfway around my neck.

A moment later, and I was soaring straight towards the dark, depressing clouds.

WOOSH.

"Avalon, you- holy shit, how do you even fly?! How are your bones not breaking? They're hollow, like a bird's, but the body is too muscular and large to support them!" She was practically having to scream over the sound of wind being sliced and battered by my massive wings. I could feel her body, shivering against the cold and pressed tightly against my back.

Azyr, the Blue Wind of Magic, was reachable even in my alternate form. The Winds were simply present, at all times, and up here in the twinkling night sky, Azyr reigned supreme. It was almost child's play to coax it around Amy's huddled body, causing the chill and bite of the more mundane wind to bend and flow around her form like water.

With the senses of a Quetzalcoatl, I heard her easily when she sat up and murmured to herself in confusion. "What… the wind's gone?"

I slowed my flight to a much tamer forty miles per hour, if I had to approximate. My body moved in slow, long shimmies, like a wave flowing across the ocean. "It is. I need you to be able to use your ears."

Amy couldn't understand me, of course. My voice came out loud and melodious, a bird-like trill that lingered in the air.

She snickered. "You know that I can't understand you, right?"

"Yep."

"I'm guessing you did something to stop the wind buffeting. It's… nice. Being able to see everything from so high up, see the stars. Whenever I rode with Vicky, I had to cover my face with my scarf and hide, yet here…"

I heard her shifting, probably looking around at the clouds and the stars above. A quiet sigh escaped her mouth.

"I almost don't want to look down and see that city. I know that you're taking me home, and that I'll have to head inside and deal with everything and everyone again, but for now…"

It almost seemed like she was talking to herself and me. I didn't say anything, not wanting to interrupt what sounded like a small amount of weight being lifted off of her chest. Not all of it - not nearly enough, but just a little.

"… Yeah, for now… this is nice."

I waited a moment, just in case there was more she wanted to say, but no other words left her mouth. Her limited well of introspective thoughts must've run dry. 'Well, this is about as good of a time as any.'

Originating from the back of my head, a beautiful, nostalgic song began playing.

Amy jumped, thankfully not harsh enough to risk falling off of my back and plummeting to her doom. "Wha-… no! No fucking way you're doing this right now, Jason. Y-you, heh, you are such a freaking unfair dork. Walt Disney did not die so that you could steal one of his most popular hits."

Without looking at her facial expressions I couldn't peer closer into her reaction, but the emotions in her giggling voice was unmistakable. Embarrassment, awe, shock, maybe a little bit of cringe…

But, louder than all of those? Joy. The first time I heard it from the grumpy little healer. The realization had my serpentine face twisting into a smug, fanged grin.

A few moments later, as Jasmine was starting her second verse, Amy's fingers tightened slightly in my plumage, as if asking for my attention. When she spoke again, there was a shaking to her voice - one that couldn't have come from the cold breeze, considering it was being deflected by the Aethyr.

"Jason, I know that you're busy and probably have 'hero' things going on tonight, but…"

She paused mid-sentence, and I exhaled a puff of hot air out of my nostrils. "Speak your piece, woman."

"Sorry. Can we just… take the long way around? Listen to more Earth Aleph music?"

For her sake, I didn't linger on the very real note of desperation in her tone, one that bordered on begging. Even without seeing her face, Hidden Insight had enough contextual clues from both my memories and the earlier insights to come to an accurate conclusion.

Amy is happy. Amy is touched. Amy really does not want to go home.

… Eh, what was another hour or two?

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Magic-Enhanced Attacks (Free): Need a weapon to hit harder? Need your fist to absolutely break through something? Want to show off to someone? This is where you'll look. By enhancing your blows or weapon with mana, you can make the blows or strikes inflict more damage, and letting you strike with more force than before.

Blessing of the Wood (100 CP): Being an intermediary to spirits is no easy task, jumper, and there's always the possibility that your enemies may strike when you are the most vulnerable. Whenever you find yourself asleep, in a trance, or otherwise incapacitated, you'll be guaranteed that your physical body will come to no harm until you wake up. This doesn't mean that trouble will not find you, in fact, it's entirely possible you'll be locked away and be prepared for butchering, but at the very least your aggressors will have the decency to wait until you wake up.

Infusion (300 CP): You have the ability to infuse raw power into an object, either as it is being made or one that already exists, and cause it to develop and express magical qualities. The more power is put into this process the greater the magical qualities that will emerge as a result. However, the effect generated is semi-random, suited to the target object but otherwise unpredictable, and can only be slightly directed if the power is flowed into the object during its creation. An object can benefit from this a limited number of times and handle a limited amount of power before it cannot hold more and crumbles. The better the quality of the object, the more it can handle. It is possible you could learn to direct this power with time and practice, but such a thing will likely take years, or possibly decades, of practice even for those that learn at accelerated rates.

CP Remaining: 700

Spoiler: A/N

Here's a very large chapter. I didn't want to cut the visit to the hospital into too many parts, but I had so much to get through that just kept flowing, so I decided to just make it all into a huge chapter. The last two perks he accepted just wouldn't fit into the narrative organically, so just assume that he accepted them at some point during the magical serpent ride with Amy.

Next chapter will be the aftermath of Jason's actions tonight, and prep-work for the Empire attack! The Empire's downfall, and Coil's imminent downfall, are going to be two very large events for this Arc so be prepared. Some spicy action coming soon.

Check out the if you want early access to the next two chapters! Otherwise, next one is up Monday!

Chapter 27

'One or two hours' ended up being a magical serpent ride that lasted until roughly 1 AM.

It hadn't even been one of those situations where I'd gotten distracted by a pretty girl and ended up talking, and later fucking, her head off. Amy wasn't nearly that fast, I was with Cassie, and the vibe just wasn't that sorta vibe. Instead, we had simply listened to different songs from Disney as we circled around the western side of Brockton Bay, too high up to be spotted by sharp-eyed goons, but low enough to avoid drenching ourselves with the hovering masses of water vapor known as clouds.

I knew that I was at a fairly stressful and high-risk juncture in my adventures on Earth Bet, but I had to admit… I had fun. It was a different kind of fun than usual; one that didn't involve fucking somebody, fucking somebody up, or fucking with magic. Speaking of magic, however; I did receive two new abilities from the Grimoire - one that made me virtually invincible when sleeping, and a much bigger one that gave me the threadbare beginnings of permanent enchantment magic in the form of 'Infusion'.

I couldn't explore the abilities while flying, but I was excited to try out Infusion once I got back home.

Throughout the whole excursion, there had been almost no talking, other than Amy muttering her distaste or enjoyment for the different movies I played the soundtrack to, and holy shit did she have some passionate opinions. It was already a big enough surprise to learn that Earth Aleph had shared the entirety of Walt Disney's coveted princess movies with Earth Bet. Imagine how far my nonexistent, feathery brow raised when I heard Amy badly singing along to Beauty and the Beast beneath her breath, as if I didn't have the ears of an oversized bird-snake.

My chuckling hisses didn't win me any favors with the flustered girl, that was for sure.

Eventually, the ride had to come to an end. What had started as a gentle drizzle that felt novel when floating mere meters beneath the depressing clouds quickly transitioned into a downpour that had Amy swearing loudly and me pushing 120 miles per hour trying to get her home before she contracted fucking pneumonia - if she was even capable of contracting diseases.

Interestingly enough, I felt like I could have gone faster. I was becoming more in tune with my… flying serpent god self?

All in all, the night out with my newest cape friend ended with me dropping her off at her room on the second story, watching as she tried to shove her rain-soaked, healthily plump body through the window sill. With her drenched robes pressing against her skin, I was privy to a sight and realization that I hadn't noticed in the slightest over the past few hours…

Amy Dallon had a motherfuckin' dumpy. A god-damned gyatt, with two big T's. It was larger and fatter than Cassie's more perky and bubbly ass, but Amy was a bit taller and had more meat on her bones compared to my petite little girlfriend. She wasn't reaching genuine chubby levels - she wasn't overweight at all, actually, but she definitely had some healthy plush to her. Especially in her ass.

The freckles didn't just stop at her face, either. Zoo wee mama.

Not that I was looking super hard or anything.

I may have helped her out with a moderate application of Azyr, forcing a strong gale of wind to blow down from the sky and shove the grumbling and wriggling girl face-first into her bedroom with a startled yelp.

I couldn't even trill out a little birdy apology - immediately, the lights in the rest of the house came on, a concerned and teenage female voice yelled out 'She's here!', and Hidden Intuition told me that leaving Captain's Hill was probably the best way to avoid a very awkward and prolonged confrontation with the Dallon Family. I had to fly away, and fast.

So I did. At breakneck speeds. I didn't want to make things even more awkward for Amy, and I was already running late to the meeting that I had to have with my people.

The last thing I saw before waving a wing and hitting a smooth 180 was Amy flipping me off through the window, a heat-filled glint in her honey brown eyes that promised vengeance.

It made for a cute parting exchange. I foresaw many angry text messages in my future.

I didn't know what to expect when I arrived back at the Sanctum, but the messy and discombobulated scene that greeted me in the living room was pretty damn low on my 'expectations' list. Everyone was downstairs and busy with something or another, and none of them seemed to notice when I quietly shut the door behind me and just watched.

The couch and coffee table was shoved off to the side of the room, leaving the majority of the floor free for what appeared to be an impromptu workshop area.

084 was hovering over Sherrel's shoulder as the half-naked woman wrote on a large whiteboard, the battered cap of her sharpie bending between her pearly white teeth. She was writing what vaguely looked like street addresses in large, yet surprisingly neat handwriting. I couldn't see any specifics, but the hovering Pod seemed to be awfully interested in the information. Hell, I didn't even know where they got the easel and whiteboard from, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that Sherrel hadn't gone on a withdrawal-fueled rampage and hurt anyone.

It would've sucked to be forced to kill her after our little heart to heart.

Cassie, meanwhile, was sitting on the paper-strewn floor criss-cross-applesauce style, triple fingering three different laptops that practically glowed green with the amount of code scrolling down the screens. That wasn't necessarily a cause for concern or surprise - she was pretty good at multitasking, and coding was her specialty. No, what threw me for a loop was the skin-tight, expensive looking outfit that she was wearing.

Don't get me wrong, I was the furthest thing from put off by the way it clung to her curves and highlighted the suppleness of her palm-sized tits and hips, but…

What happened while I was out with Amy?

"Sorry I'm late, but… the fuck happened in here?" I stared blankly from the doorway, steam still drifting from my flash-dried clothing - courtesy of minor Aqshy manipulation.

Cass, ever the loving and adorable little minx, practically gave herself whiplash when her head darted in my direction. Her eyes, or what I assumed to be her eyes - the unfamiliar pink and blue coloration was throwing me off - widened at the sight of me, and the cool focus that had been directed towards the laptops evaporated in that one moment.

Her soft, supple pink lips pulled up into a beatific smile, and all the stress of my extremely busy day fled from my shoulders.

"Jay!" she shouted, joy and excitement empowering her body with a sudden burst of energy.

The girl lunged from her spot on the carpet, trampling over sheafs of documents and papers that littered the living room floor in her haste to glomp me. I'd almost forgotten just how physically affectionate she was - before I'd left this morning, she practically forced me to embrace her and give her five forehead kisses.

Specifically five, with audible smooches.

"Woah," I grunted, a crooked grin forming on my lips even as I caught the petite missile in my arms. Her body was light - lighter than it was before, that was for sure, and I knew just what recent perk I could thank my new natural physical strength for. "What's with all the excitement, cutie? Sherrel didn't slip you a pill or anything, did she?"

A low blow, admittedly, but I never claimed to take the high road when it came to humor.

The former druggie snorted, spitting the sharpie cap out of her mouth and giving me a half-hearted glare. Dark bags were forming beneath her eyes. "Hardy har har, douchebag. Fuck you for pullin' that teleportation bullshit on me, too! I almost got fuckin' shot by 048 here." She shot daggers at the Pod floating overhead, but it didn't seem apologetic in the slightest.

"His name's Tactical Support Unit Pod 084," Cassie shifted in my arms, looking back in order to stick her tongue out at the disgruntled mechanic. "And he almost shot you because you charged at us. Like a fricking blonde-haired bull!"

That caught my attention.

I looked over at Sherrel again, a burning question visible even through the shades of my sunglasses, and she had the good graces to blush and avert her eyes. "C'mon, kitty cat. I already apologized 'bout that, and the… other thing. What happened to lettin' bygones be bygones?"

Cassie merely narrowed her eyes and blew another raspberry at the tired-looking Tinker.

"Other thing?" I blinked, danger entering my tone.

"I'll tell you later!" she said much too quickly, wiggling in my firm grip. "We've got more important things to discuss, mister."

When I let her go, she twisted on her heel again and peered up at me, her face attempting to shift into a completely forced caricature of annoyance and impatience - possibly in response to my tardiness. The keyword there was 'attempt'. As soon as she properly looked at me, adrenaline faded and attention focused to a fine point, her eyes widened comically, and her jaw practically unhinged itself.

"… What the fuck? Jason?!"

I smiled. "Yo, that's my name; don't wear it-"

Before I could even get the cheesy one-liner all the way out, Cassie's gloved hands were prodding and squeezing my newly-airbrushed face. I stumbled back at the abrupt invasion of personal space, my hands darting forward to clutch at her latex-covered hips and square my feet in a last second attempt for balance. My agility was phenomenal at this point, and keeping my balance was child's play in most scenarios, but the only way to not fall here involved shoving Cass away and extending my left foot back in order to keep my center of balance in equilibrium.

In a split second, my decision was made.

I toppled back over my own two feet, Cassie's clumsy ass falling on top of me like some sort of shitty romcom anime scene.

"Urk!"

My sunglasses went skidding across the floor, and my now uncovered eyes were lidded with bemusement as I stared up into Cassie's much more colorful ones. If she was hurt or shocked by the sudden fall, it definitely wasn't shown on her flustered and amazed face. She was just… staring at me, straddling my abs with her knees on either side of my body. I easily read the emotions drifting across her soft, heart-shaped face.

Cassie is shocked. Cassie is happy. Cassie is horny .

Ha, I wondered what gave it away - the widening of her eyes, or the way that her hips quivered against my body?

"When did you become a supermodel?! I knew your powers were changing your body, but this- this is different. A lot different." Cass whispered breathlessly, the naked confusion thick in her voice. It was a happy sort of confusion, I noticed - like waking up and finding fresh flowers by your bedside.

From the surprisingly comfortable position beneath her, I just smirked. "… Ta-daaa. It's my apology gift for making ya'll wait. You likey?" My voice came out equally as quiet as hers, each word smoothly transitioning from one syllable to the next. I could see the way that her eyes traced every minute movement of my lips, heavy and laden with a complicated mix of lust, desire, and something else that I didn't bother delving deeper into.

Baby girl was down bad.

"'Likey'?" she murmured, lowering her upper body down until her lips were mere centimeters away from mine. I felt it then - the flexing of her bouncy ass, flush against my crotch, as she pressed and ground the heat of her core against my stomach. " You can't do this to me. I'm supposed to be mad at you…"

There was a wet, damp whine to her voice, as the scent of her blueberry lip gloss drifted into my nostrils and awakened something primal in me.

I stiffened, in more ways than one.

"If you're gonna fuck, go ahead and fuck! Not like girly hasn't rubbed it in enough already…" Sherrel's tired, grumpy voice broke through the heady haze that had fallen between the two of us.

Cassie jumped, startled out of her daze, and she would've accidentally headbutted me if I hadn't reached up and palmed her face.

"Hey!"

I was still hard, but horniness could wait until later - preferably after I had a hot, scalding shower to wash away the scent and memory of the hobo block party I'd crashed earlier.

One moment I was beneath a pouting Cass, my large hand dwarfing her face and gripping her skull gently, like the world's most fragile basketball. The next, I was standing behind her and plucking her off of her feet like a cat would a baby kitten - she even pouted and crossed her arms in mid-air, not at all surprised by my casual use of teleportation. If I had to guess, she weighed around 110 lbs, give or take a few pounds - nothing I couldn't manhandle with relative ease.

I placed her down on her feet before bending over to grab my sunglasses…

"Ahem! Lookin' good, toots."

Why was Cass deepening her voice again-

SMACK.

I froze.

"… PFFFT!"

Someone laughed, and going off of the raspiness and tired, half-mad laughter, I assumed it was Sherrel. My ass cheek tingled a little from the force of Cassie's slap - fairplay, since I'd done the same to her multiple times over the past couple of days. Just because it was fairplay didn't mean I planned to just let such actions slide, however. I had a pretty nice ass if I did say so myself, and it was normal to wanna smack and grab such clear perfection and excellence, but I wasn't some whore.

I straightened up, turning around to stare down at the giggling hacker. Her eyes were getting misty from the effort of muffling her own snorts, and the sound of the cutely hideous pig-like noises was almost enough to dissuade me from the path of vengeance.

Almost.

I'd get her when she was least expecting it. Sherrel too, considering the blonde criminal was smacking her hand against Pod 084 and busting her gut with laughter. Fucking bitch - and I mean that with utmost friendliness.

The robot stirred, servos humming as the light on its head blinked yellow. "… Ha. Ha. Ha."

Traitor?!

"There's no way it was that funny," I grumbled, straightening my sunglasses and carefully stepping over the messy piles of documents in order to get a closer look at Sherrel's whiteboard. "Treatin' me like I'm some kinda slut. That's sexual objectification, Cass - I'm hurt."

And now she was sticking her tongue out at me. Since when did my little Cassie become such a glutton for punishment?

"It was pretty funny, boss. Gettin' objectified is kinda par for the course for hot, sexy women like us. If we're gonna be your eyecandy, it's only fair if we do the same to you." Sherrel grinned, taking a step back and crossing her arms beneath her considerable bust. I hated that my hormone-filled body decided to go against my will and peer downwards for the briefest second; despite her clear exhaustion, the woman was obviously watching and waiting for the reaction.

And my girlfriend was right fucking there.

Sherrel's grin grew wider when my eyes met hers again, and I knew I just lost that mini round in whatever fuck-fuck game we had going on between us. I didn't want to dwell on it right now, or bring any attention to the area my attention had been drawn to, so I just rolled my eyes and turned towards the whiteboard. Let no one state that I had no control over my own perverted nature.

Still, things were getting… dicey for me, in both my chest and my pants, and I wasn't a pussy who lied or hid things from his girl. The not-date-but-kinda-date with Amy, the unfortunately real sexual attraction I felt for Sherrel, the fact that I fully planned on breeding Raven if I ever caught her ass lacking in the DC Universe…

I was going to talk to Cassie tonight. It just wasn't fair otherwise.

"Being the 'boss' comes with certain privileges, and smacking my frustratingly cute girlfriend's ass is in the top five- easily." I retorted after a few more seconds of introspection, turning to do a quick scan of the list of addresses written on the board.

"Oh, just top five? And what's the other four?" Cassie pondered with a smug little smile, the occasional quiet giggle still escaping her lips as she re-situated herself down amongst her laptops. She began clicking on the keys once more, and I knew from experience that anything I said to her from now on would be heard with only one ear.

"Kickin' butt, making money, saving the multiverse, and, hm… piledrive-fucking your bratty ass into the mattress. Just boss things, you feel me?"

The click-clacking of her keyboard abruptly paused.

COUGH. COUGH.

"-ACK! J-Jay, that's-!"

"Lewd? Overly sexual? Too far?" Sherrel snickered, eyeing the two of us with amusement and heat practically radiating from her pores. She shook her head slowly, cocking her hip to the side and giving the red-faced Cassie an intense, half lidded stare. "You are as fuckin' pure as rain, kitty cat. As sweet as candy, too. Jay could learn a lot from ya."

I rolled my eyes, a smirk pulling at my lips. "Yeah, yeah - I can learn a lot from the both of you, actually. Let's start with the latex, Cass. I'm diggin' the new look, but what's up with it?"

I turned away from the whiteboard, my passive Insight already having plugged the addresses for what they were - the location of Merchant safehouses that Sherrel managed to remember off the top of her head. I'd revisit that shortly, but the burning question at the forefront of my mind was centered solely on Cassie.

"Oh shit, I forgot to tell you about my verification. Stop being so frickin' distracting, assholes…" Cassie breathed, lightly smacking her inflamed cheeks. With a loud, put-upon sigh, she rose from her cross-legged position and poked the black earbuds that had been resting snugly in her ears. Her brows were furrowed, slim shoulders set firmly as she waited for something to happen.

And waited…

Cassie's shoulders slumped, and she stamped her right foot frustratedly. "Wh-what?! C'mooon, it worked earlier! Sherrel, you said I just needed to grease the springs, which I did. I applied too much grease!"

The mechanic yawned and idly dug in her ear with a pinky. "Yeah, well your little headphone thingamajig is too tiny for my tastes, kitty. I like my babies a lil' bit bigger and louder, with tires and steering wheels." She paused, before grinning lazily. "That I can drive-"

Cassie pouted. "I get it. God blessed you with big tits and a delightful personality, didn't he?"

Sherrel's grin turned wicked. "Oi, he gave momma a lot more than big-"

I snapped my fingers, and the loud crack echoed through the room. Both heated pairs of eyes shot in my direction, and I chuckled beneath my breath. "Chiiill. Cass, try pressing it again."

She tilted her head to the side, looking very much like a bemused and annoyed kitten. " Baby, it probably won't work. I'm… I'm not good with making tinkertech outside of programming, and this was one of my first pet projects. It's probably just a dud now…"

Chamon, the Yellow Wind of Magic, tasted like gold and copper in the back of my throat as I mumbled a short incantation beneath my breath while Cassie complained about her supposed 'lack of skills'. I knew next to nothing about Tinkertech, other than the fact that it was basically impossible to replicate, but magic didn't give two shits about any of that. Magic just worked.

And Law of Logic, the boon I ensnared around my girlfriend's mind with only a few whispered words and a slight gesture of my hand, was magic.

Sherrel eyed me confusedly, not knowing what I was doing but knowing, in some baser, more instinctive way, that I was manipulating forces unknown.

"-or maybe I should redo the verification video without the HUD? Hm, I don't know-"

"Baby girl," I interrupted her murmured musings, smirking when her head snapped up to me.

"Y-yes?" she squeaked.

"Try. It. Again."

"Yes sir!"

I could see how the Law of Logic changed the outcome this time. Instead of just pressing the sides of the earbuds and hoping for the best, Cassie reached up to her ears, hesitated, widened her eyes, and yanked them out - all in that order. She almost tripped over her laptops when she turned around and ran upstairs, leaping to take the stairs two at a time in her sudden excitement.

"I'll be right back! I just realized something!"

A warm sense of self-accomplishment blossomed in my chest. If there was one thing I doubted I'd get tired of, it was making Cassie realize that she was capable of more than she thought she was. I wasn't sure what type of tech she managed to make, or when she even had time to do so - though, apparently it was a pet project from a while back. Regardless, I was looking forward to the reveal.

"Sooo," Sherrel hummed, sliding up towards me. "What was that all about, boss? Your magic fingers capable of pushin' Tinkers through breakthroughs now?" Her tone of voice was light and casual, as if talking about the weather, but only a dumbass would miss the subtle pangs of hunger there. Voracious and lurking, like a scavenger pacing around a meal of a lifetime.

The thought was amusing.

"Yeah," I stated matter-of-factly, straightening my posture and meeting her face to face. Healed or not, showing weakness to former criminals like Sherrel was a slippery slope to losing respect. I couldn't have that. "Amongst other things. You tryna see?"

Something shifted in her face. The scavenger hesitated, realizing that the 'meal of a lifetime' was more than capable of biting back. Her breath quickened. "Depends on which part you wanna show me," she whispered, sliding her long, pink tongue over the supple flesh of her parted lips.

My eyes drifted down, but my cooled expression didn't shift. 'Control, Jason.'

"I guess we'll see." I replied easily, returning my gaze to the staircase. Loud, excited footsteps were approaching.

"Mmm. I guess we will."

Her voice sounded conflicted. She didn't know whether to be disappointed at the lack of flirting, or excited at the prospect of having her tinkering bolstered by my powers.

Speaking of powers - the Grimoire was offering me another mote of light within my soul, and a quick scan of the ability had me brushing it back into its infinite pool. A normal, mundane wizarding staff was cool when you had nothing else, but I was hardly your stereotypical wizard. With my new Infusion ability, I could make my own basic magical foci.

"I'm literally the coolest Tinker in the fucking world!"

The sight of Cassie slid down the smooth wooden railing of the staircase, an uncharacteristically large grin on her pale face, pulled me from my thoughts. As soon as she reached the bottom, the girl pushed off with her platform sneakers and landed somewhat clumsily on the floor. She teetered for a brief moment on the tip of her toes, but I coughed into my elbow and whispered a command for Azyr to push at her from the front, barely keeping her stable on her feet.

When she realized that she was safe, Cassie sighed in relief and flicked her short hair over her shoulder. "Nailed it."

I golf-clapped politely. "Good shit, babe."

"This Pod is impressed by Mistress' agility. Proposal: Repetitively perform more acrobatic maneuvers to build actual muscle."

Her left eye twitched. "Fuck you, tin can."

084 ignored her, slowly hovering over to her laptops and settling down beside one of them.

"Heh, don't listen to the robot - guys like Jason enjoy a little bit of soft meat. You, uh, figure out what the problem was with your toy?" Sherrel walked closer to the shorter girl, circling around her before moving in closer to peer at the nondescript black earbuds. Her heightened interest was obvious.

"Er…" Cassie wrinkled her nose, taking a step away from the nosy blonde and covering her ears. "No stealing my ideas, woman. These are trademarked!"

Sherrel rolled her eyes.

"Now, before something else can go wrong… let me start over." Cassie turned towards me, wringing her hands and suddenly looking a lot more nervous. Her eyes glanced from me, to Pod 084, to the intensely staring Sherrel, and then back to me. "I just want to say, for the record, that it did work two minutes ago when I made the modifications. Also, Sab- um, Parian made the costume. If you couldn't tell. It was a secret."

"You're stallin', and we're not in Russia." I commented idly, glancing up towards the clock. 2:30 AM.

"It'll work, kitkat. Stop bein' a pussy." Sherrel heckled with a grin. When I glanced at her, she shot me a shrug .

"Okay, okay, I know. Just- hold on." Cassie lowered her hands from her ears, closed her eyes, and let out a low, deep breath. When she opened them, the nervousness was all but wrenched away, showing off that same bullheaded, fearful fearlessness that had saved me from getting lynched all those days ago. Without any more hesitation, she squared her shoulders and slammed her thumbs into her black earbuds.

HISSSSS.

The small, nondescript earbuds suddenly shot backwards and outwards, forming what looked like smooth, dark cybernetic cat ears on either side of the hacker's head. The front ends folded inwards, above and below her eyes, and thin, see-through plastic occupied the space like ski goggle lenses. The whole thing didn't appear too durable, but durability probably wasn't the focus - lightweight mobility and sleekness was.

Overall, they looked cute enough, but seemed… unfinished? I didn't want to dissuade or demotivate the girl, but I was a little confused.

"Yo, do-" A finger was placed on my lips. I raised an eyebrow.

"Wait for it," Sherrel muttered, having backed up to my side at some point during the little showing. "She does this cute lil' nerd thing. You're gonna love it."

'Oh?' I returned my attention to Cass, who still had her eyes closed. I could be a patient man.

"Alright, it frickin' worked…" Her serious frown was quickly shifting into a small, radiant smile. Opening her eyes, Cassie clenched her fists and said, in a loud and clear voice, " HUD, on! "

There was a quiet, staticy crackle, before the front of the goggle-headphones hybrid lit up with warm, pinkish-blue light. There was the low hum of a voice permeating through her cat ears, but whatever was being said was lost to my above average hearing - all I knew was that Cassie looked absolutely overjoyed that whatever she was doing was working, and that made me happy.

Plus it actually looked pretty fucking sweet with the HUD activated. Very high-tech retro.

Suddenly, Cass smirked and whispered something beneath her breath, and my phone began to vibrate violently in my pocket. I eyed her suspiciously as I pulled the device out and swiped it open to check its overflowing notifications.

"This is a Chain Email. If you do not post your a-asscheeks on PHO within three days and three nights, you will be damned to an eternal torment by Iris, the Coolest Hacker- Cass, why the hell did you send me fifty emails? When did you even make me a fuckin' email?" My phone was still vibrating.

Cassie's smug smirk grew wider. "I'm happy you asked - the first question, not the second one~. That is not my name right now, however…" Her hand drifted behind the small of her back, right above her perky little ass, and she tilted her head cutely. The adorable addition of her the black cat ears made the movement even more sickeningly sweet. I couldn't be annoyed at that.

I sighed, but a smile formed on my face. "Iris. Nice choice on the name, by the way. A beautiful name for a beautiful goddess."

That knocked the wind out of her smug-infested sails. Cassie's cheeks reddened, visible even through the glowing visor, and she nibbled nervously on her bottom lip. "T-thank you. And I'm- I mean, my HUD. Or goggles, rather-"

"Stand up, kitty. Don't let him smell blood!" Sherrel coached encouragingly from the side.

"R-right! Ahem, I call this," she tapped the visor, "My CodeLink. It's kinda complicated to explain, but basically; by 'linking' the CodeLink to my phone's operating system, which holds all of my current programs, I can use voice command and the aid of an eye-tracking AI to visualize the effects of my apps virtually, in real time. Kinda like… playing a video game in real life?"

"Hold on," I said, blinking in confusion. "You said 'the aid of an AI'? You just… casually made an AI?" I glanced over at Pod, and its light winked once in greetings. "Like lil' bro?"

Cassie snorted. "I frickin' wish! No, I guess it's better to call them 'VIs', since they wouldn't pass the Turing test… AIs just sound cooler. Programming basic artificial intelligence isn't very hard - it just never crossed my mind to try. You helped me a lot with that, Jay; my mind has been racing with ideas recently, like my powers are excited. Analyzing 084's code - or what parts of it that I can actually read - has helped me a lot too. Some of the things he can do is…" Her voice tapered off in silent amazement, and she shook her head wistfully.

I inclined my head in acknowledgement of her gratitude. "You gave me a place to stay, I gave you a high-tech AI with enough firepower to air out a Denny's parking lot. Guess you can call me your magical sugar daddy."

The deadpan stare, red cheeks, and quivering lip was the only response she deigned to bless me with. I'll take it.

Sherrel rubbed her chin, her interest in the conversation returning as she mulled over Cassie's words. "Artificial intelligence, huh. I've mashed together a few autopilot protocols in my babies… before. They were artificial, for sure, but none of 'em were too 'intelligent'. Think you can help me out with that, kitty?"

"Mhm!" Cass nodded vigorously, a determined smile forming on her face. She was clearly happy for the distraction. "Easy peasy, I've already written out a skeleton array for an autopilot program in preparation for the ambush, so we can look it over together if you want to."

"Sounds good to me. If I needa grab us a ride on such short notice, ramp the torque up to handle my additions, get it all nice and speedy… we can try and fit it in later today. That is, if boss man wants to get me a spot to do my work?" Sherrel glanced over at me, the question clear in her eyes. "Your place is nice, don't get me wrong - but I can't really drag a four-door through your fancy-smancy livin' room, can I?"

I thought about it. She needed a vehicle, materials to work with, and a place to cobble it all together. We only had two days before the transport, and time to prepare was running thin. There were more than enough empty warehouses in the Docks…

"084, you pin down the addresses Sherr listed yet?" I glanced over at the silent Pod.

It stirred at my words, mechanical fingers flexing, before it hovered to my side. "Affirmative. This Pod has confirmed the location of two out of five locations. The other three are located in the southern Docks, and have no CCTV footage to access. Sending the data to Mistress now."

Cassie started as something Sherrel and I could not see passed over her vision, and her eyes lost focus for a moment. "Yeah, I see them - thanks 084. Jay, are we…"

I knew what she was going to ask before she even fixed her mouth to ask it. I shook my head immediately. "It's late, Sherrel's barely standing' on her own two feet, and I need a shower. We'll scout out the safehouses after getting some sleep, see if we can grab the cash before someone else does. You remember any of 'em being secure enough to work as a temporary garage?" I asked the exhausted woman.

She yawned again, her jaw cracking quietly with the force of it. "Fuck if I know, big guy. It was hard enough just rememberin' what part of the city they were in. Bein' high all the time does that to ya."

"Of course it does," I sighed, tapping my finger against 084's cool chassis. "Alright, fuck it - we ball anyway. Cass, 084 - run me through what ya'll collected from the emails between Reddit and the Warden chick. "

"Rennick," Cassie corrected idly, crouching down to pick up one of the pieces of paper on the floor. "084 wrote so many frickin' notes after your talk with him yesterday. Half of this isn't even relevant-"

"This Pod has only organized the most prevalent and key points in regards to the correspondence between Deputy Director Rennick and Chief Warden Amaya." 084 cut in loudly in his monotonous voice, flying over to another pile of discarded papers and picking them up. "Proposal: Practice better bookkeeping skills."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who decided to print off over fifty pages of bullshit!" Cass shot back hotly, turning around to give the emotionless AI a heated glare.

"Affirmative. Request: Lower auditory volume. This Pod is detecting heightened hostility in Mistress."

"Heightened hostility my ass!"

Sherrel gave me an exhausted, miserable glance before sluggishly making her way over to the pushed-aside sofa. I didn't blame her at all when she collapsed onto the soft cushions, letting out a loud, high-pitched groan. Amy's healing probably took a lot out of you, considering it utilized your own biomass, and Sherrel had an especially taxing day even without getting her tummy flushed.

She deserved the rest more than anybody.

"Alright you fuckin' children," I interrupted the bickering of my two intel specialists, bearing the brunt of their twin stares with a cool tilt of my chin. "Start from the top, 'ight?"

"This Pod-"

"I can-"

"Nope," I cut them off, frowning like a disappointed father. "One at a time. 084 first."

The robot's little body made a quiet buzzing noise as it floated forward, a massive sheaf of papers held in its little metallic hands. "Affirmative. The email from Deputy Director Rennick to Chief Warden Amaya states, "Good evening, Chief Warden Amaya. I hope that you're having a beautiful day today, for the cloudy sky down here in America must be infinitely more dour than what Canada is experiencing this wonderful January winter-"

Cass and I locked eyes, and an instinctive understanding flitted between us. We'd let him have his moment now, but in the future…

Cassie would do the information dissemination.

For now, we'd just settle in for a long night.

Spoiler: A/N

So, little change here - during extreme downtime like right now, rolls will be made every 3000 words instead of 2000 in order to avoid amassing a shit ton of abilities and not using them before getting more abilities. CP collection rate will stay the same, so 100/2000. He rolled once this chapter, got a dumpy, but next chapter is something pretty fucking fun so stay tuned.

1000 CP remaining.

PS: Next chapter is out on , so be sure to stop by and check it out if you're impatient. Chapter 25 will be released on tonight as well!

Chapter 28

An hour later, 3:30 AM.

A steaming hot shower after a long, stinky day of kicking ass, dealing with panic attacks, rizzing up baddies, and being an overall mid boyfriend was almost purifying in its relief. The weight of my reality still sat heavily on my shoulders, forever threatening to pin me down and lock me back into the gray cloud of depression and anxiety that had consumed my early years, but I knew that there was no way I was going to let it win. There were a lot of things that could go wrong in the coming days, and I was usually the type to avoid responsibility in order to not deal with those kinds of possibilities, but here I was - planning to become a leader of a ragtag group of heroes and villains, for what?

To prove that I can do it? To not be a bitch? To kill racists fuckwads and slow the end of the goddamned multiverse?

What ever happened to just learning magic, avoiding love, and dipping out at the first sign of a dimension-traveling spell? What happened to that Jason Black?

'That's right,' I chuckled inwardly, lathering another layer of soap across my chiseled chest. 'The whole 'avoiding love' thing fell through. Fuck.'

I had been the type of guy to laugh at dumbasses who claimed to fall in love at first sight. Loving was hard for me. Those feelings of butterflies in the tummy, the rapid beating of your heart slamming against your ribcage, the googly eyes and secret smiles? I had been robbed of the full effect of those things at birth - autism and alexithymia went together like turkey and gravy, after all. Emotions and empathy had always been something I struggled with, ever since I was a kid in middle school getting bullied for having dead, emotionless eyes. High School was no better, except girls started to think the 'wolf stare' was hot and I learned how to leverage it into a smolder.

College became cake once I found out that I had a taste for pussy and pleasure, and that void in my heart became easier to manage with those fleeting relationships giving me a taste of what actual love could feel like.

It wasn't all horrible, of course. I had good friends. I'd dated women that I felt I had actually loved, even if that love was weak or brittle. I had broken many hearts, had my heart broken once or twice, but at the end of the day I had loved myself far more than I had loved anyone else outside of my immediate family. I was Jason Black. I was a cold-hearted, narcissistic, whoremongering asshole… but I was unapologetically me, and that had been enough.

And now, I was in love again. No, not again… this was something new and different. She made me feel things that were new and different, and it lowkey scared the shit outta me. It scared me because I knew who I was, and who I was made it hard to love someone who brought so much light into my life. It was easy to break hearts when my heart barely even beat for them. It was easy to move onto the next fling, the next sexy, dangerous woman that made my cock hard. It was easy back then.

'So what the hell do I do now?' I couldn't end things. Now that my heart was beating, pumping full and hot and healthy with blood and feelings and what I was quickly realizing was love, I refused to let that bond go. But was that worth the risk of breaking her heart due to my own blasé, hedonistic nature? God, that was how I knew I was deep in my head - I started using stupid ass words like some kinda poet-

"You're thinking too hard, Jay…"

My skin tingled.

I'd recognize the feeling of Cassie's energy anywhere. It filled me up, consumed my very soul, made that annoying thing in my chest beat faster than it ever had outside of sex and League matches. Whether it was my own sensitivity to the Aethyr growing, familiarizing me with the unique blend of Winds that constantly hovered around her body, or something deeper and more esoteric, I did not know.

All I knew was that she was here with me, beneath the spray of water, and I could feel the soft, wet touch of her small, supple breasts pressing against my back.

No one could make me as hard as her mere touch made me.

"… What are you thinking about?"

Her voice was quiet, almost inaudible beneath the din of water crashing into the marble tub, but I heard her all the same. Hidden Intuition whispered its shadowy words in my ear, filling my head with the buzz of emotional insights.

Cassie is worried. Cassie is scared. Cassie is nervous.

My brow furrowed, and I allowed my magically-charged brain to race to conclusions.

Cassie is worried that you are getting bored of her. Cassie is scared that you are turned off by her body. Cassie is nervous about talking to you about Sherrel's comment.

"If-… if you wanna be left alone, I can go-"

My right hand, which had been snaking backwards ever since she'd started talking, made itself known by gripping a large, heavy handful of pale, soft ass. Cassie's shocked squeaked was cut off by me turning around beneath the showerhead, gripping the back of her slim neck with my left hand as I leaned down and pressed my full, wet lips against her smaller ones. She shivered beneath my grasp, though whether it was from the sudden spray of water or the sensation of my hard, throbbing shaft pressing flush against her smooth stomach I did not know.

All I knew was that I did not ever want her doubting herself again if I could help it. And I would.

"Mmmff…" She moaned hotly into my mouth, eyelids fluttering and hands sliding up my shoulders to tangle itself in my wet locs.

There were a lot of things I wanted to do. I wanted to deepen the kiss into a passionate makeout session, grabbing her by her plump ass and holding her in my arms. I wanted to grip her by the hair, force her head back, and make her cum against my knee as I spat in her mouth and treated her like the slutty little bitch I knew she wanted to be for me. I wanted to, I wanted to…

I wanted to tell her how I feel. How scared I was about fucking everything up with her because of my vices. How I'd fallen for her…

Her lips broke the lock first, and I lazily opened my eyes to the sight of her panting softly, eyes shut tight and face flushed down to the neck. "J-Jay, pl-please…"

A bolt of pleasure shot through my hips, and I glanced downwards. Her hand, so small and delicate with its black and pink fingernail polish, softly gripped the swollen head of my cock. It pulsated against her palm, pushing her hand upwards, and she let out a sound between a gasp and a hiccup. Her thighs pressed together tightly.

"I don't want you to go," I murmured quietly, leaning in to rest my forehead against her shoulder. My hips pressed forward with the movement, and her little hand twitched down to grip my shaft. It could only fit halfway around its girth. "It's the opposite, actually. Baby, I really fuckin' need you…"

My lips pressed against the nape of her neck, sucking against the soft, unblemished flesh, and a wordless cry escaped her throat. I tightened my hold on her ass, keeping her steady against me as her legs and knees quivered.

Sherrel had been right - Cassie was untainted, pure, and wholly innocent to the ways of the world. The ways of sex. Ever since our first night together, I hadn't pushed for her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with herself. We'd had sex almost every night after that, outside of when I was out too late and she fell asleep, but things usually stayed relatively tame. The kinkiness of our first night was still unmatched, and I hadn't broached the subject because it genuinely didn't bother me. I was patient. I could wait. I doubted my cock would fit in her throat, anyway.

"I-I need you too. You've made my life so much better. So-, hnng, so much more f-full." Her voice came out in stuttering breaths, and her grip against my shaft slackened in the wake of her pleasure. That didn't dissuade me- if anything, it egged me onwards. I wanted to talk, I wanted to bare my heart and force her to bare hers, but it was impossible to resist the tantalizing, bottom-heavy canvas she was already offering.

"Then why," I whispered, sliding my tongue up the side of her neck. Her hips violently jerked forward in an instinctive, animalistic response, and I lightly massaged her ass to cool her down. "Are you hiding how you feel?"

I was too, but not for long.

That question spooked her. I could feel it in the way that her stomach tenses, as if she was getting ready to run or turn away. I would never want to scare her, but I knew that we had to get through this - whatever this was. My grip became firmer, just enough to let her know that I was here, and almost immediately her core relaxed.

I pulled back to look down into her eyes, and she looked back. Water droplets cascaded down both of our bodies, so I wasn't sure if the cloudiness in her eyes were tears or not.

"I-I'm not."

A lie, and a bold-faced one at that. Cassie tried to look away, eyes searching for any place but my own, and my hand went from the back of her neck and up to her hair. I glided my hands through her short wet locks, ghosting my fingers over her scalp, and when she shuddered and pressed her head closer to my hand-

I gripped softly and pulled back, just a little.

She gasped, but there was no fear - only hot air and shuddering desire.

"You wanna know what I think it is?" I asked, low and deep.

"Mmmm…"

I leaned in closer and her soft lips quivered, almost parting in anticipation of a kiss. I leaned past her tantalizing mouth, however, getting close to the shell of her ear so that no words were lost beneath the sound of the shower. "Something Sherrel said upset you. Made you feel insecure about me. About us. What was it?"

She was tensing up again, but this time it was different. More fearful. The gentle grip that I had on her hair eased up, and I began stroking my fingers through the wet strands again. Cassie wasn't tough, despite the energy she tried to give off to strangers. She was soft, through and through, and a stern hand couldn't be the only method when it came to handling girls like her.

She breathed out shakingly, closing her eyes and nuzzling into my touch.

"S-Sherrel-" Cassie paused, inhaling and exhaling to shoo away the hesitance. "Sherrel is a cool woman, I think. I like her and I want her to be in our group. She just… she just said some things that made me wonder…"

I nodded patiently, but didn't say anything. She'd speak when she was ready.

Her lips quirked up into a cute little smile in gratitude, and with a sigh she spoke again. "She said that I was 'damn lucky' to have you, and if I wanna keep you I'd better be ready to fight off women 'a lot hotter and a lot stronger than us'. And then I got to thinking… Glory Girl made a post on PHO about wanting to meet you and patrol together. Multiple times. She got an infraction for spamming."

I snorted, amused in spite of the serious topic. Cassie pouted and flicked my nipple, which… made me stare at her dully. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she huffed, giving me a shaky smirk. "Anyways… I can't compete with Glory Girl, Jay. I don't want to. I had a frickin' puppy crush on her last year for fuck's sake. I'm clingy and super touchy and I understand all of that, but I'm not a jealous girl. I- I don't want to be jealous."

My amusement faded almost as quickly as it appeared, and I frowned at Cass. "You don't have to be. Glory Girl's not even my-"

"It's not just her, Jay. There's been more and more attractive girls around lately." she cut me off, giving me a pleading look that had me snapping my mouth shut with a 'click'. "I know you hung out with Panacea, who's hella cute in a mousy girl-next-door way. I know Sherrel has really fucking big bazoingas that I wanna smack around l-like frickin' tetherball, and she's interested in you. Sabah's a lesbian and still looks at you like you're the best thing since sliced bread! Why not me?! She's so friggin' pretty, it's not fair…"

I flinched back at Cassie's raised voice, stuck between wanting to grin at her mood-shifting mutterings or console her for the clear and painful unsureness she was going through. She didn't sound… upset. No, that was wrong - she sounded upset, but not at me, nor at Sherrel, Amy, Glory Girl, or Sabah. If anything, she just seemed upset at the situation. And, oddly enough, upset that Sabah didn't find her attractive.

Which was just straight up wrong. She hadn't seen the way the seamstress had been staring at her ass - like it was the greatest fucking treasure in the world. I didn't mention it, though, recognizing that sometimes your girlfriend just wanted you to shut the fuck up and let her vent.

I began massaging her scalp again. My fingers wanted to tap against her skull in that annoying way they did whenever I was stressed or anxious, but I forcibly restrained the urge.

At the relaxing sensation of my fingers caressing her skull, Cassie sighed and sank into my chest, perky wet tits and against muscular wet man-tits. "… I- I just wish I knew what to do. About all of this. A week into my first real relationship and I'm crying about being replaced by more beautiful women… what a loser."

"You're not a loser," I rebuked softly, causing her to peer up at me with a sniffle. A lopsided smile pulled at my lips, and the mere sight brought one to hers. "You're my loser, and I'm yours. Put me in a ring with some nazi fuck and I'll bite his ear off - that's my victory lap. Love, though… this is a whole 'nother beast."

"Did- did you just say love?" Cassie's wide eyes, wet with a clear liquid that I knew wasn't water, practically glittered as she stared up at me. I could feel her heart beating in her chest, a repetitive drum snare that sang in tandem with my own, and my smile widened. Heat was pressing in on me from all corners, but I relished in it - relished in the butterflies that fluttered through my stomach. Without her, I wouldn't feel these things.

"Yeah," I chuckled, gently wiping an escaped tear away from her cheek. "Love, 'cause I'm pretty fuckin' sure I love ya. I know it's barely been half a month, and you don't have to say it back just to-"

Her lips quivered, untold emotions flitting across her face too fast for me to catch.

"ILOVEYOUTOOJASON!"

"Wait, you d-"

Soft, hungry lips crashed into mine, and it was only my quick reflexes and enhanced intuition that stopped us from cracking our foreheads together. I reeled back for only the briefest of seconds, overtaken by the sudden passion and ferocity in my sweet little girlfriend's lips, but I was nothing if not up for any and all challenges. Hot, sweaty, and passionate lovemaking was one of my favorites.

I flicked the shower off with my left hand while swinging Cassie into my arms with my right. She squeaked against my mouth as her wet, naked pussy slid up the underside of my cock. I felt every single inch of it glide through her velvety, glistening folds, and judging by the choked gasp and the sensation of her tongue going limp in my mouth… she felt every inch too. Her pussy left a wet spot against my abs that I knew wasn't from the shower.

The bathroom was connected directly to the master bedroom, so kicking the door open, walking forward, and tossing the beautiful girl back onto the bed was easy and simple.

Controlling the urge to jump on top of her and turn her into a comatose, gurgling mess was less so.

I wanted to try something a bit more new, and to do so I needed patience. Willpower. More blood flow, because all of mine was going to my lower body.

"Do I have permission to use you as much as I'd like tonight? Really 'sanctify' our love?" I idly asked, popping my neck to the side with a satisfying crack.

" Baaaabe… " Cassie whined pitifully, twisting and wiggling in the bed as she 'covered' her pussy. She wasn't fooling anyone, though - her hips were grinding against the palm of her hands, a moist squelching noise filling the room with lewd sounds as she slowly tried to get herself off. "Mmhmm, p-please use me all you want. I-I'm sorry for being s-so horny… I can't help it… "

When you got down to it, Cass was an incorrigible pervert, and she trusted me enough to be like this during sex. As sweet and kind hearted as she was, the girl simply couldn't keep her hands off of me or herself once I got her engine running. She couldn't keep up with my stamina or sex drive once my engine started up, but that was fine. Somnophilia was apparently one of her many fetishes, and I was kinky enough to use her unconscious body.

The issue came with the pain and aches afterwards. Hysh could only heal so much.

It was good, then, that I planned to mainly abuse her throat instead of her pussy.

"Baby girl," I murmured, watching with carefully hidden amusement as her soft, plush thighs squeezed tightly around her hand at the mere sound of my voice. Her lips parted, drool threatening to leak out as she stared at the hard, twitching pole of flesh hanging over the side of the bed.

"Y-yes sir…?" she swallowed nervously, her hips gyrating faster against her palm as she stared at me through lidded, blurry eyes.

"Come here."

The command, spoken with such authoritative dominance, seemed to hit some sort of switch inside of her. Cassie flushed even redder, her small, perky little titties jiggling as she panted like a dog. Tears pricked at her eyes, and the wet, perverted sound of her pussy lips grinding against her hand grew even louder.

"C-cum? Daddyyy, I'm- fuck, I-I'm gonna cum too fast. I-I can't stop it! I'm sorryyy… !" She sounded simultaneously mortified and aroused, her words beginning to slur as her head fell back against a pillow.

For some reason, watching her get so close to a premature orgasm was such a fucking turn-on.

I idly spat on my hand and palmed the engorged heft of my shaft, stroking up and down all nine inches as I watched my inexperienced girlfriend spasm on the bed. Her eyes opened, a combination of pleasure and panic in her eyes as she stared at me, and I finally allowed a smirk to form on my lips. She was obviously doing her best to hold it back, and she was quickly losing that battle.

"You gonna cum, baby? Before I even touch you?" I asked coolly, speeding up my strokes. My hips began to move with the movement, heavy balls swinging beneath my grip, and the sound began intermingling with her own lewd pussy noises.

"No, no, no, daddy I woooon't. I don't wanna… ~!"

I tilted my head, my voice gruff with pleasure. "So why are you still moving your slutty lil' waist?"

"I-I…"

"You cum when I tell you to, sweetness."

Her hips stilled in shock at my words, for the fleetest of seconds, and I took that moment to dart my left hand forward and grip her left ankle. Before she could even register what was happening, her body was sliding across the silky sheets and her hot, drooling core was flushed fresh against my thigh. I could feel it, quivering and twitching, creating a messy wet spot against my skin.

Cassie's back arched her body up off of the bed, her mouth opening wide to moan and cry at the sudden friction-

And I gripped her by her short black hair, tugging her face forward so that her panting,parted lips were mere inches away from the rigid head of my dick. Her eyes dilated immediately, breath coming out in hot, heavy pants. She went almost cross-eyed as she stared at the pillar of flesh almost touching her lips. Her hips twitched and shook as she rubbed her needy pussy against my leg.

"Now be a good girl for me and say 'ahhh'." My smirk shifted, going from subtle and amused to a full-on grin. The heat of my cock against her face seemed to make the horny girl dizzy.

Cassie's eyes flicked up towards me for a fraction of a second, but it was almost immediately drawn back down to the bulbous head of my cock. She gulped.

"A-Aaaahhhh… ~" Her tongue slid out of her mouth, slick and dripping with saliva, and she slowly - almost torturously slow - moved her head forward to give the tip a tentative lick. My hips jumped in response, a shock of pleasure shooting through my brain, and Cassie gasped in both surprise and excitement. She was nervous, that much was clear - it was obvious in the flushing of her cheeks, the shaking over her hands as they wrapped around my leg for leverage, but beyond all of that was the ridiculous amount of trust, desire, and love in her gaze. She was putting all of her faith in me.

So I would take care of her, no matter what.

"That's my girl. Just like that, baby…" I groaned, watching her through fluttering lashes as she dragged her drool-covered tongue against my sensitive cock head. She seemed transfixed by every sound that came out of my mouth, her wide, adoring eyes staring up at my face as she lavished me with her pleasurable attention. "Fuck…"

"Mmmh, mmmff-… am I doing a good job, daddy?" Cass whispered hopefully, a small little smile pulling at her glistening lips as she planted a moist kiss directly on the underside of my shaft.

"Hell yeah you are. Stroke the shaft with both of your hands, sweetheart. Long and fast."

A shock of lightning shot through my spine as her pale, dainty hands wrapped themselves around the girth of my cock, if barely. As spit-covered and slick as it was, Cassie had no trouble stroking back and forth, her eyes opened wide in awe and lust as the slick sounds began to fill the air.

"H-holy shit… Fuck this is so hot…" she whimpered, her own hips beginning to gyrate again.

"There you go…" My voice trailed off as the pleasure began to build, and I moaned deep in my throat, the sound coming out as a rumbling purr. Precum dribbled out in heavy dollops, coating Cassie's sticky grip and causing her tongue to lap at the slit of my dick like a curious kitten.

Stars filled my vision.

"Fuck!"

I wasn't cumming, not even close, but I'd almost forgotten just how sensitive I was to oral sex. Cassie tried to retreat at my swearing, nervous that she'd done something wrong, but my grip in her hair tightened and I kept her firmly in place. She didn't fight against me, adoration clearly winning over any hesitance as she jerked me off even faster. Her mouth was fully open, tongue still licking at the drops of pre, and I wanted more. No, I needed more.

I flexed my hips, the head of my dick pressing firm against the pad of Cassie's tongue, and her eyes widened. Excitement, lust, and fear all flashed over her face, but I knew that she was relying on me to set the pace this time.

So I pushed my way inside of her wet, eager mouth.

It was instant bliss. Hot, soft, and pliable - her lips were like a vacuum seal around the head of my dick, her mouth barely able to fit just the tip inside without genuine difficulty. Cassie's tongue didn't know what to do, so it circled wildly around the pulsing meat in her mouth as the girl moaned and double-stroked my shaft even faster. Drool leaked out the corner of her lips, falling down into the flat valley of her palm-sized breasts.

Her eyes began rolling to the back of her head.

"Mmmfff!"

PLAP. PLAP. PLAP.

Her gyrations were starting to become desperate and violent with the way that they were smacking and grinding her pussy against my leg, and both my thigh and the bedsheet was becoming positively drenched. Fighting through my own growing pleasure, I bit my lip and blinked my blurry eyes, peering down more closely at Cass.

Cassie is overwhelmed with pleasure and arousal. Cassie is about to squirt. Cassie is squirting-

Oh fuck.

" MMFFF! MMMMM-!"

Cassie's body fell backwards, my cock popping out of her mouth with a loud, echoing 'pop'.

"No, no, no please I-I'm cumminggggg!" Her bubbly ass rose off of the soaked bed, mashing her hot, swollen pussy against me as a spray of clear, misty liquid blasted from her core, coating my lower body. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth, a quiet, stupefied giggle escaping alongside whimpers and hiccups.

I blinked, staring down at the dazed girl. "… You okay, love?"

…

"H-heh. Yeeeesssshhhh…" Came her slurred reply.

I smiled. "Good, 'cuz I'm still hard. Roll over and put your head in the pillow."

"… Y-yes sir… ~"

Two Hours Later…

" Uhnnn! Mmmm! MMMMF! J-JASON, I'M-"

"Fuck yesss… !"

I growled, eyes fluttering shut as I pressed my face into the nape of Cassie's sweat-soaked neck, feeling my balls squeeze and churn as my fourth orgasm ripped through my body like the most pleasurable bolt of fire. Cum blasted out of me, shooting out in long, pearly white ropes that splattered against her stomach and chest. Hickeys trailed up and down her body, from her thighs to her bruised, cherry pink nipples, and her eyes were listless and glassy as her hips convulsed beneath the spray of semen.

Turns out my sexual stamina had improved significantly as a byproduct of picking up certain perks, Superior Being being the most obvious. If the vestigial drain of mana I could feel in my core was any hint, Archmage was probably attributing to it as well, filling me with more vitality than I would have otherwise.

Also, the Winds were especially useful for sexual fun, even outside of Hysh's regenerative spells. Azyr in particular, combined with the Sanctum's anti-failure effects, made for a titillating and electrifying conductor for both pleasurable stimulation and finding the best spots to hit.

It was too bad that Cassie was reaching her limit after her twentieth climax. I didn't wanna overdo it on the healing.

" Jaaaay," my fucked-silly girlfriend murmured blearily, reaching out towards me with both arms. She clenched and unclenched her hands, the universal sign for 'pick me up bitch', and I chuckled as I swept the exhausted girl into my lap.

"I gotchu, don't worry. You need some more water?"

"Mmm, maybe some soda? You go this time, Sherrel was-" Her body suddenly jolted when her aching core brushed against the pulsing girth of my still erect dick, and she angled her head back to give me a disbelieving stare. "No friggin' way you're still horny! A-are you even human…?"

For a second, I wondered if embarrassment or shame was the correct response. It was really fucking freakish of me, thinking more on it, but… I wasn't one to be ashamed of my own virility. If anything, I found it sorta entertaining. I was like a real life, magically-empowered porn star. I hadn't expected that in my 2011 bingo card.

A crooked grin slid onto my lips, and I brushed a damp lock of hair out of my face. "You can always tap out if you want to, babe. I won't love you any less."

Her eyes flashed stubbornly, and she collapsed back against my sweaty chest. "… Never, you annoyingly beautiful stud. Never rrrrr… !"

I snorted. Regardless of whatever she felt she needed to prove, I planned to put the stopper on our lovemaking soon anyway. Impossibly horny I may be, but I drew the line at actively hurting Cassie. It was at this moment that the Grimoire hooked itself onto a small mote of light, reeling it towards my inner inner soul so that I could take a closer look.

It was Conveyance's Second Dot upgrade, linearly upgrading my teleportation range from ten feet to… one hundred? Holy fuck.

I didn't hesitate to accept it into my internal palace, feeling it slide in alongside the first dot of the same power.

" Maybe I should've taken Sherrel up on her offer… " Cassie mumbled quietly to herself, her tone an odd mix of thoughtful and bemused. It was clearly not meant to be heard, but her bliss-induced exhaustion clearly didn't give her the greatest of auditory awareness - I heard her words loud and clear, and they made my eyebrow quirk upwards in confusion.

What offer did Sherrel even-

Cassie doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied. Cassie recently went downstairs to get water. Sherrel offered to swap out with Cassie to give her rest. Cassie refused.

Cassie is slightly tempted by the offer.

Ohhh.

An Hour Later…

Cassie lied on her side, staring dreamily at the side of her boyfrien- no, her love's stupid and annoying and perfect face as he slept. At least, she assumed he was sleeping. After cleaning both her and the bed with his warm rays of energy, the energy that he called 'Hysh', Jason had taken her in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in her ears - 'aftercare', he'd say whenever her cheeks would erupt in flames and her heart started doing pirouettes inside of her chest. He did it to make her feel good and warm and happy after… using her body for his pleasure all night long like the big-dicked stud that he was.

Just the thought of the night's activities had her burying her burning face into his shirtless chest and kicking her feet in the air.

She'd sucked his cock! Multiple times! And even made him cum down her throat! Sure, the taste wasn't the greatest ever, but in the moment all she cared about was making him feel even a fraction of the pleasure he'd given her. And holy friggin' shit did he give her pleasure.

How he made his tongue of all things spark with electricity would forever stupify her. Jason's powers were fucking OP, please nerf, get him the fuck outta the lobby, and she didn't care what anyone said. But at least he was her broken, overpowered boyfriend.

Her broken, overpowered, ridiculously handsome boyfriend with a huge dick, back-breaking cock and virtually endless stamina…

'… My kitty cat hurts!' she whined internally, bolts of phantom pain shooting through the tingly spot between her legs.

Cassie didn't regret having sex with his bitch breaker of a dong. Hell, she didn't regret letting him use her body like a fucking fleshlight for hours while he brought her up and over the peak time after time. Her body was his instrument to be plucked and played, and Jason showed multiple times that he had some really good fingers.

No, she didn't regret a single frickin' thing. But… the anxiety, the same anxiety that kept her from joining her love - and god did she love using that formerly elusive word - in dreamland refused to leave her chest. His sudden confession had been so completely and utterly unexpected that her initial concerns were swept to the side in favor of the pure elation she'd been feeling. Then the sex happened, and, well… everything after that was a blur.

But now she was back in her right mind, and her thoughts were in turmoil again; only, she had another worry weighing on her shoulders. She couldn't keep up with him - not by herself. Jason was her shooting star. He was her one true wish given human form. Her prince and knight, given human form, sent to Earth in order to protect and love her. It was like her favorite web novels, where the average, lonely, and nerdy reject was swept off of her feet by the guy that completely outclassed her in every way, but still fell for her in spite of it all.

This was their story.

But he was too bright. He was too… extraordinary. And Cassie was worried, beyond every worry, doubt, and fear in her heart, that she wouldn't be enough for him. That she already wasn't enough for him. It wasn't that she was jealous of the women in his life, even though she was a bit miffed that Sabah didn't at least see her as hot too! No, Cassie wasn't a jealous girl by nature. She just… didn't want to be pushed to the side. She couldn't be pushed to the side. The mere thought of going back to her nonexistence, living life alone in a bunker, barely surviving… barely living…

She'd rather fucking die.

"Ughhh, so how… -"

"… Ahhhnnn," A loud, jaw-cracking yawn cut through her muttering. Cassie jolted, glancing up towards Jason's face, only to see him already staring down at her with a half-lidded, lazy expression on his face. "Sorry, heard ya whinin' in my dreams. Wassup pretty girl?"

A familiar happiness blossomed in her stomach at his words, only for that annoying anxiety to come by and stomp it back out. "… N-nothing. Just thinking 'bout stuff." she lied, looking away.

"…"

Her gaze drifted back towards Jason's face, and she swallowed.

His eyes were narrowed, and the intensity both frightened and aroused her.

"Try that again," he said simply, voice raspy with sleepiness, and Cassie folded immediately.

"Ughhh, okayyy," she pouted self-consciously, raising her gaze to meet his again. Seeing that he was focusing entirely on her, Cassie swallowed. "I-I was just thinking."

Jason raised an eyebrow.

"…"

"Abouuut?" he frowned.

"Stu-"

"If you say 'stuff', I swear I'm gonna turn your ass red Cass. I'm being serious."

"Jeez, okay!" She quickly sat up straight, sheets and covers falling around her naked body and pooling at her thighs. In spite of herself, Cassie found her lips twitching up when Jason's eyes blatantly lowered and raked itself across her small breasts. Whether he actually found them sexy or not, the attention helped her confidence. "I was just thinking about what we were discussing earlier, in the shower…"

Through her eyelashes, she could see Jason's tired eyes light up knowingly. Like clockwork, the dull, almost silent thump of his finger against the mattress began to pick up tempo. Cassie fished his hand out from beneath the covers and grabbed it with both of her much smaller ones, taking comfort in both his warmth and the fact that he was anxious too.

He offered a small, cryptic smile. "What can I do?"

Cassie blinked. "H-huh?"

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

She flinched, her grip on his hand tightening. "You're not doing anything wrong, Jay. This isn't a 'you' problem. I'm just… scared. And I know I keep saying it, but I am. I don't wanna lose you, and I don't wanna stifle you and be like 'grrr, no talk to pretty wahmen'! But… there's just so many pretty women, and you're pretty, and I…"

'I'm just plain ol' Cass… '

Jason watched her, the knowing light in his eyes burning into that same frightening, familiarly intense glare that he did ever so often whenever he became deep in thought. Not knowing what else to say, Cass sat back on her ankles and watched him.

It only lasted a few seconds. As soon as his brow relaxed and his eyes cleared, Jason looked directly at her, meeting her gaze face-to-face, and asked one simple question. "… Why don't we just date them together?"

…

Cassie's brain stalled.

"Wha-wha-wuh…" she stuttered, feeling her breath quicken and cheeks began to burn and she didn't even know why. "W-what do you mean, 'date them together'?! Like, um, me. And you. And another pretty girl? With big tits?" Her blush grew hotter at her perverted faux pas, and Cassie smacked her forehead with her free hand. The other one was too busy crushing the bones in Jason's.

He, annoyingly enough, didn't even seem to feel it. His lips pulled back into an amused grin, showing two rows of ridiculously perfect white teeth. "Yeah. You keep talking 'bout how pretty these chicks are. We both know I'm a bit of a perv - sorry, by the way. I'd never touch anybody without your permission, but my eyes are-"

Cassie stuck her tongue out. "I know, I know - asshole. Pervert. So what i-if I think girls are very pretty and smell good? And so what if I like tits?!" Being bisexual wasn't anything to be ashamed of, after all! No matter what her asshole, stuck-up parents thought. Legend was frickin' gay and he was one of the strongest heroes!

Not as cool as Jason, but still!

"I didn't say anything about breasts," Jason chuckled, tilting his head slightly to the right as he watched her. "It's up to you, babe. I… I won't lie to you, and I've been meaning to say this at some point anyway. I really like women. Like, a lot. Tits, ass, tummy, et cetera. I look, and if given the opportunity I'd touch. But I love you, and that won't change no matter what. If you say no, I won't break up with you or some fuck shit like that."

The seriousness in his voice was sobering.

Cassie frowned, her heart hammering loudly in her chest. This felt like a monumental turning point in their short relationship, something that would have a permanent and everlasting effect on everything from here on out, and she didn't want to just rush to a decision and regret it all. The idea of dating other women together, or even just giving Jason permission to have sex with other women… it wasn't common, and it was almost definitely frowned upon by modern society. It kinda reminded her of those anime tropes, where the guy would get a 'harem' of women, except… it was both of their harem?

And no guys, but that was obvious - she was pretty sure Jason wasn't bi or gay, and honestly, Cassie couldn't even think of any men romantically or sexually after experiencing what Jason introduced to her life. The thought of some stinky, hairy loser invading their safe space made her skin crawl.

Eugh.

She knew that losing Jason, her shooting star, was simply out of the question… but he said that he wouldn't leave her, so didn't that mean she could answer truthfully?

"… Would it be a, u-um… 'harem'? Is- is that what you want?" Cassie finally asked, embarrassment clear in both her voice and body language. She felt like it was a stupid frickin' question to ask, but it wouldn't leave her brain and she needed to know.

Jason's eyes widened, but only fractionally. His serious expression cracked, and a smirk found its way through. "Huh. Didn't even know you knew what that was." he chuckled, leaning back against the headboard of the bed and rubbing the back of her palm with his thumb.

Cassie shot daggers at him with the heat of her glare. "I watch anime! The good stuff comes from Aleph, but I've been wanting to check out the recent-… wait, don't distract me. I need more details, mister. Because you're sounding an awful lot like a perv right now."

His smirk didn't diminish. "This isn't me tryna coerce you into some anime harem bullshit - I already said you can say no. The fact that you're entertainin' it means that you're interested in the idea, or am I wrong?"

She said nothing, stubbornly tilting her chin up and waiting.

"Heh, you're cute when you're being stubborn. If we do this, it'll have to be polyamorous - meaning we're all dating each other. No one's left out, no one's left feelin' unwanted and unloved. Lonely. I think we've all had enough of that, right?" Something glimmered in his eyes, some untold emotion, but it was gone before she could even begin to decipher it.

His words, however, assuaged some of the doubt in her chest. It was still a deal slanted in his favor, that much Cassie could intelligently insight. He was a straight man, one who was self-aware of his own love of women, and he'd be sharing them with his girlfriend with no man in sight to take away from his experience. That wasn't something that Cassie cared much about, however. Naive or foolish as it may have been, but she simply didn't care for or want another boy - no, another man in her life outside of Jason.

Judging by the ache in her pussy, he was more than enough man for her in every single way.

And, she had to admit, on a more selfish level… The thought of having a girlfriend, or even multiple girlfriends, with Jason appealed to her in more ways than one. Sexually, romantically, and emotionally. Women were just different in ways that men weren't. There were certain understandings there, certain things that you could only discuss with other girls. Things that she wouldn't feel confident or comfortable going to Jason about. And, much like Sherrel offered a couple hours ago, she would have sisters-in-arms during the losing battle that was Jason's hypersex drive. She would no longer be the lone sorceress. She'd have warriors by her side!

Plus, boobies. And ass. And squishy thighs. Jason was chiseled, with almost no softness to him. She could already imagine it - her head resting on big, soft titties, with Jason's large, calloused hands giving her the best foot massage ever. If they had a third girlfriend, maybe she could even feed her grapes, mouth to mouth, as Jason's hand began to glide down towards her inner thighs-

"Hehehe…"

"You alright there, champ?" Jason's deep, baritone voice, tinged slightly with concern and bemusement, brought Cassie out of her fantasies. She hadn't even realized that her eyes had closed, or that she had started to giggle to herself.

How frickin' embarrassing.

"D-don't call me champ. It's either kitten or 'baby girl'!" she sniffed, smacking her warm cheeks with both hands. Her imagination had always been an active one, and it was easy to get carried away sometimes.

"Sure," Her frustrating boyfriend soothed in that smooth, knowing way he often did. "Any more questions, kitten?"

Did she have any more?

Cassie mentally filed away the positives - pretty girls, more love and affection to go around, the chance to try multiple kinky and mouth-watering scenarios that she definitely didn't read about online, assistance with taming Jason's Dragon-Spear, the list went on and on.

The negatives, however…

Faces flashed through her mind. Beautiful, flawless faces. Sabah's. Glory Girl's. Laserdream's. Sherrel's. All women she recognized that were objectively prettier than her, and all who had a very real chance of gaining Jason's attention. She wasn't jealous of their looks. Maybe she was a little bit jealous of Glory Girl's breast size, but nothing else. No, once again, her fear came from a different source. A source of abandonment. A source of insecurity. A source of trauma.

She didn't want to be forgotten. She didn't want to be replaced. If they did this, if Jason had a taste of more delicious fruit… What would stop him from losing interest? Words were all well and good, and she wanted to believe him, but how could she when the world itself saw fit to toss her curveball after curveball? She was scared. She wanted to think that everything would be okay, but how would she know?

"Cass."

"Hmmm?"

Her voice was a mumbling mess, scenarios and anxieties shooting through her brain at speeds faster than any coding software. When she glanced up at the current source of all her worries, Cassie was taken aback by the expression on his face. Far from its usual cool, detached confidence, Jason was staring at her with naked earnestness.

The hand holding hers slackened before withdrawing, but before she could feel any sort of emotion at the abandonment Jason's pinky finger immediately wrapped around hers.

A hesitant smile formed on his face.

"No matter what, come Hell or high water, I will never stop loving you."

Her eyes widened.

"You are irreplaceable. You have been my rock ever since I've met you, and I want to spend the rest of eternity exploring the universe with you."

Her heart hammered in her chest.

"No matter what woman enters my life or our life, no matter who I end up killing, fucking, or kill-fucking, absolutely no one will loosen the hold you have on my heart. And this power'll prove it."

Her mouth gaped open.

"Jason, wha-"

His eyes gleamed, and suddenly, Cassie was Aware. Every line, every expression, every secret in Jason's naked expression was hers to plunder.

Jason is scared. Jason is scared that you will see his offer as him being nothing but a perverted, sociopathic narcissist who wants to take advantage of you. Jason is a perverted, sociopathic narcissist, but he doesn't want to take advantage of you.

Jason is nervous. Jason is nervous because he loves you. Jason is nervous because he loves you more than he has ever loved anyone romantically in his life. Jason is nervous because losing your love will emotionally destroy him.

Jason is happy. Jason is happy because you make him happy. Jason is happy because he does not often experience pure happiness. You make Jason experience pure happiness.

Jason is adamant. Jason is adamant that he won't forget about you. Jason is adamant that he will always take care of you. Jason is adamant that he will always cherish you.

"Wh-what is this…? Jason?"

Cassie didn't notice when her pinkie fell from his, curling up in the sheets as her hands balled into tight little balls. She didn't notice when tears began pricking the corner of her eyes, slowly dripping down her cheeks. She didn't notice when the wide, radiant smile began to grow on her face, practically lighting up the room. She was too busy staring into her lover's eyes, watching all of those emotions - all of those feelings and thoughts coalesce into something that she could fully understand and see.

More than intuitions, more than mere thoughts, Cassie watched as, to her very eyes, Jason's amber pupils turned into pulsating pink hearts; physical, unerring proof of his feelings towards her.

He tilted his head, a crooked smile forming on his face. This time, she recognized it for what it was.

Jason doesn't know how to truly smile.

"You see what I mean, right? What is it tellin' ya?"

Jason is madly in love with you. Jason is madly protective over you. Jason would kill Gods for you. Jason would destroy planets for you-

Cassie averted her eyes, a giggle bubbling out of her chest. Amongst the butterflies and floaty feelings of belonging and adoration, she felt a tiny bit of fear. And lust. Scarousal? Her boyfriend was fucking terrifying, and speaking of anime… he was quite possibly a yandere? Or something?

"Y-you can take your power back, babe," she said quickly, holding out her hand for him to grab. "I heard all I needed to hear."

She couldn't see him, averting her eyes as she were, but Cass felt him confusedly take her hand.

Jason is confused. Jason is confused because-

And then the whispering voices were silent.

There was an awkward moment where she turned her head to face him again, and he stared at her with bemusement clear on his face, but the moment quickly passed when Cassie lunged forward to wrap him in a hug. This time, she decided to be the caregiving one - pressing his confused face right into her naked breasts and squeezing his head tightly against her body. His cheek was warm against her nipple, but this wasn't the time for horny hours. It was hard enough regulating the emotions going through her body right now.

"… Yewokay?" Jason's muffled voice escaped from the confines of her palm-sized chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist, awkwardly patting her butt, and Cassie swatted at his hand.

"Yes. Just… shut up for a sec, dummy," she mumbled, sniffling. "I love you. You're amazing."

A pause.

"… Iluvyewtoo?"

"And no fucking other women without asking me and our, um, future girlfriend… s first. Capische?"

The words felt foreign and strange on her tongue, but… she didn't mind it. Her decision had already been made, after all.

The pause between her statement and his reply was much longer this time.

"… Okay."

"Good."

Cassie's eyelids began to sag. Her body, already sore, aching, and exhausted, began to drift backwards now that the anxiety cursing her chest was completely gone. Sleep beckoned, and knowing that her boyfriend was apparently willing to slaughter billions in her name was one hell of a safety blanket - not even counting the fact that she was hugging him to her chest.

Happy, satisfied, and tentatively looking forward to the future, Cass tightened her grip on her Jason and allowed herself to finally pass out.

The last thing she felt were warm, strong arms wrapping around her body before all went black.

I gently tucked Cassie into bed, keeping my movements as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. I'd clearly gone overboard with her tonight, and although I felt guilt at pushing her body past what it was naturally able to take, I was also proud that she thugged it out the way that she did. Some of the screams she'd scrumpt sounded pretty fuckin' painful - not in the gut-wrenching way, but in the 'I'm going to go crazy if you make me cum again' way.

She was safe, though. That was all that mattered.

And I was apparently in the middle of a early polycule now. I… hadn't expected the night/morning to end that way. Shit, I'd expected to either be broken up with or forced to deal with a very awkward and very tense 'dog house' situation for the next few weeks after revealing all that I had. Giving her my Hidden Intuition had been a calculated risk, but I knew myself more than anybody and I was well-aware of how I felt. My edgy, half-depressed monologuing in the shower was proof enough of that.

There had always been a chance that something slipped out about my knowledge on Earth Bet being a fictional world, but honestly, after living here for half a month… it was starting to feel less like a fictional world and more like my home. Not a home I loved or even liked, mind you, but a home nonetheless.

It had all worked out in the end. I still had my wonderful girlfriend, and I could now officially feel guilt free about looking at Sherrel's tits - mainly 'cause I now knew that Cass was doing the same thing.

'Yep,' I thought, stealthily heading towards the door in order to grab some chips for an early morning insomnia meal. 'Shit's really lookin' up. There's no way it can get any better than-'

I Fuck the Darkness (400 CP): A final point, and one of significant importance. The 'enemies' of humanity that you might encounter are almost, to an individual, completely filled with malice and are otherwise completely evil, with a capital E. Now, you're here to fix that.You can outright fuck the Evil out of (or into) someone/something. "Inject" your own morality into them, with every thrust. An enemy peon like a Thrall or Dreg could be flipped and redeemed in a single row. But, of course, the more thoroughly entrenched their morality is, the longer, and more often, you'll have to plow to rewrite their morality. Someone like Savathun could be the work of an entire decade, for instance.

'… -this. Well fuck, Grimmy - didn't know you were a pervert.'

A bright, benevolent, and definitely not evil grin began to form on my face.

Now this… this was something I could get some traction out of.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Sorcery - Conveyance (World of Darkness: Sorcery - Two Dots100 CP): Teleportation, flight, and other means of magically swift transportation are covered by this path.

[2] The sorcerer's magic may transport themselves, along with 20 pounds, across roughly 100 feet.

I Fuck the Darkness (Destiny - Fuck the Darkness - 400 CP): A final point, and one of significant importance. The 'enemies' of humanity that you might encounter are almost, to an individual, completely filled with malice and are otherwise completely evil, with a capital E. Now, you're here to fix that. You can outright fuck the Evil out of (or into) someone/something. "Inject" your own morality into them, with every thrust. An enemy peon like a Thrall or Dreg could be flipped and redeemed in a single row. But, of course, the more thoroughly entrenched their morality is, the longer, and more often, you'll have to plow to rewrite their morality. Someone like Savathun could be the work of an entire decade, for instance.

900 CP remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Fairly long chapter here - for those who dislike NSFW/fluffy scenes, sincerest of apologies. This was a long time coming, though. Not the sex, although that was definitely a lot of coming, but the whole relationship thing.

Next chapters will be handling the transportation mission. Everything's set in motion, the plan has been discussed by our heroes, and all that is left is getting a decent vehicle set up, prepping the equipment, and executing said plan.

has Chapter 25 already uploaded, and Chapter 26 will be dropping tomorrow for all of my impatient readers.

Chapter 29

10 AM, February 1st - One Day Before the Mission…

'The morning after', a time-tested moment of awkward eye contact and mumbled conversation, often had over a breakfast that tasted wooden and plain with the tenseness of the atmosphere.

None of that shit applied to Cassie and I, thankfully - it hadn't happened the first time we had sex, and it didn't now, no matter how much Sherrel was trying to make things awkward.

"Come on!" she crowed, resting the full weight of her boobs on the kitchen table and grinning perversely at the tired, sleepy-looking Cass. "You woke me up with all your screamin' and cryin', kitty cat. I barely got any sleep! 'Least you can do is give me the raunchy details. Just think of it as… 'reparations'."

Admittedly, we did get pretty fucking loud whilst fucking. Going for three hours straight probably wasn't the most respectful thing to do with guests over, but… I didn't give a fuck, and going off of the muffled moans I heard coming from the living room after Cass fell asleep, I was positive that Sherrel didn't mind either.

The hacker lazily flipped her off, her other hand busy flicking through some random PHO thread. "Hell no, cow tits!"

Sherrel scowled. "Mousy called me the same fuckin' thing. If ya'll wanna play with momma's honkers, all ya gotta do is say so. All this teasin' is fucked up, and I demand restitution!"

"H-how is that 'teasing'? And 'restitution' isn't even the right word!"

I couldn't keep the small smirk off of my face as I slid a steaming hot cup of sugar-filled coffee in front of Cassie, who looked away from the eye-twitching Sherrel to give me a grateful smile. "Cass is letting you stay at her place, rent free and deliciously cheap coffee included." I said casually, placing the other cup of joe down in front of Sherrel. "That's prolly enough 'restitution', don't you think? We could always toss you out on your ass and airdrop you our sex-tapes instead."

"Huh." Cassie blinked, dropping her phone on the table and giving me a wide-eyed stare. "We have a sex tape? Tapes? Plural?! You didn't- we didn't…" Her sleepiness quickly abated in the face of rising panic and embarrassment, her cheeks warming up.

"He's just bein' a dick," Sherrel rolled her eyes, shooting me a glare that lacked any real heat. "And the comparison ain't flyin' straight unless you actually let me watch, y'know. Just listenin' doesn't hit the same." Her voice was oddly serious, though the almost manic horniness in her eyes made the tone of voice less effective.

She was fully and truly down bad, the same way Cassie was after seeing my new appearance. Except Sherrel had wanted me ever since I callously stole her away from her abusive boyfriend.

Huh… maybe I was teasing her a little bit too much.

…

'Nahhh.'

"Consider it reparations for all the fuck shit you and your buddies released into the city," I counter-offered, turning to grab my own cup of coffee. I bought a mug the other day, a black one with the words 'World's Greatest Bad' on the front. It was probably some weird pro-villain memorabilia, but I kinda liked the edginess of it. "You can endure a lil' bit more 'frustration' in honor of change… right?"

The clenching of her hands around the steaming mug showed me just what she thought about my words. "… Right." she said through gritted teeth, bringing her coffee up to her plump pink lips.

SHLUUUURP!

What a passive aggressive ass sip.

"Am I-…" Cassie began, her face still flushed as she glanced between the two of us. "Am I missing something? You're not doing that thing where you speak in riddles to avoid revealing sensitive and/or delicate info, right?"

I had to stop my right eye from twitching. 'How stupidly specific.'

"Nah. Just drink your coffee and stay lookin' cute." I replied, giving her a warm, genuine smile.

"Oh… alright. I'm good at that, hehe." The confusion in her eyes lessened, replaced by embarrassment and love as she smiled back and shyly sipped at her own coffee.

…

"Shit!"

The cuteness was sliced in half and drowned to death by her nearly dropping the cup and yelping as the scalding liquid burned her tongue, but I didn't mind - the clumsiness was part of the reason why I loved her.

Something had changed between us since last night, and I wasn't mad at it. Things felt more… solid. More real. Before, I would've done anything to protect Cassie - that much was obvious to anyone, I felt like. Now, though?

All I know is that I'd do a lot fucking more.

And speaking of protection…

"Lil' buddy!" I called out into the Sanctum, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest. "Meeting time, get off of Netflix or whatever the hell you're doin' up there!" Was Netflix even a thing in this world? Probably not, but the contextual clues were enough to do the heavy lifting.

There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by the occasional cautious sip (from Cass) and aggressive sip (from Sherrel) before…

"This Pod was not watching the critically acclaimed Earth Aleph war film titled 'Inglourious Basterds' in preparation for the upcoming mission."

084 hovered swiftly into the kitchen, his little metal body turning to and fro as it gave its surroundings a precursory, almost lazy scan. How it traveled from Cassie's computer room all the way downstairs in only a brief few seconds was a mystery, but NieR was a pretty high-powered world from what few clips I'd seen back in my old life. The little Pod was stronger than everyone else in the room, bar me - even better for protecting Cassie in the next few steps of our plan.

"Lying's not cool, 84." I sighed, giving the AI a fake disappointed glance.

It inclined its body forward and back, as if nodding sheepishly. "Affirmative. This Pod sincerely apologizes, Master. Proposal: Utilize my assortment of destructive programs in the battle against the nazi threat as solatium."

Cassie perked up at that, moving her gaze away from her phone screen and pinning down 084 with naked curiosity. Whether said curiosity was triggered by the word 'destructive' or 'programs' was anyone's guess. "Ooh, I was wondering about those! Still am, actually. Most of the code in your database was written in, er- what'd you call 'em…"

"Angelic."

" Riiiight, thanks. I'm slowly starting to learn the language, but I couldn't understand almost any of it. My Debugger is optimized for stuff like C, Haskell, hell - even JavaScript, not this… alien crap you have going on inside of you."

Though her word choice leaned towards frustration, Cassie herself only sounded curious and determined. She pushed away her half-empty cup of coffee, grabbed her smartphone with both hands, and started swiping over to what I could only assume was some sort of IDE. As she typed, 084 hovered over Cass's shoulder, a couple feet above her bed-raggled hair, and stared down at her phone screen.

"Pod Programs, written in Angelic Script, is what allows this Pod to assist Master and Mistress in combat, alongside my more mundane firesupport capabilities. This Pod has seventeen Pod Programs currently installed." He added helpfully.

Cassie glanced up at 084, her left brow quirked in interest. "Seventeen? And you think they'll help us in a fight with the Empire… What do these Pod Programs even do?"

"A shit ton," I piped up, briefly pausing to take a long, calm sip of my own drink. "Shields, energy constructs, gravity wells - lil' buddy has a lot more than tech scanners and sassy one-liners."

Smacking my lips and pushing back the urge to grimace at the bitter taste, I pressed my finger against the side of the hot mug. It burned, if only slightly, but I focused more so on the Red Wind emanating from the porcelain.

Cooling the temperature just enough to down the entire cup was child's play, as opposed to, say, shooting a fucking fireball or healing mortal injuries with burning red flame. I promptly downed the rest of the slightly cooler contents a second later, wrinkling my nose all the while. It was ten AM, I'd barely gotten four hours of sleep, and we had a very long day ahead of us.

I needed all the caffeine I could get.

As 084 hovered obediently and Cassie turned to give me big, curious puppy dog eyes, it was Sherrel who decided to challenge my nonchalant claim.

"Excuse me if doubtin' your word goes against our mutual agreement," she said sarcastically, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms beneath her sizable bust. "But these 'Pod Programs' don't really sound all that strong, boss man. How do you go from all that nerdy 'code' shit to controlling gravity? Get me some big ass magnets and a buncha hollowed-out metal tubes and I can flip somethin' like that, but him…?" Sherrel eyed 084 doubtfully from beneath the bill of her red trucker hat.

Her worries were valid.

She was trusting me to take her out alongside Cass and 084, fuck up a bunch of superpowered nazis, avoid getting arrested by the PRT for manslaughter, escape, and do all of that cleanly without suffering a painful and unfortunate death. With only limited knowledge of what I can do, Sherrel was blindly pushing forward with the very real fear of dying and failing hanging over her shoulders. She was sober, too - cold turkey at that, so a hodge podge of drugs weren't there to push her natural bravery into suicidal recklessness.

I tilted my head, eyeing the frowning woman.

Sherrel is hesitant. Sherrel is doubtful. Sherrel-

Was scared. She was just hella good at hiding it behind perversion and levity.

'Fuck it, then - let's show 'em what 84 can do.'

Innately being aware of his Programs due to the Grimoire wasn't enough, anyway. Practice made perfect, and although Cass would be the main one benefitting from 084's combat support, it was still important for me to at least get familiarized with what he was able to do first-hand. It would also help cull the gnawing, dull sense of anxiety lurking at the back of my soul; the same anxiety that constantly whispered that allowing Cass to come along with us was a stupid fucking decision.

She wanted to come, though - according to her, it was to gain hands-on experience in the field and be able to assist with scrambling communications and deescalating PRT response. Personally, I think she just wanted to prove herself to me and Sherrel.

Dumb, but I was also pretty dumb because I green-lit her participation.

My girl had heart, and if she wanted to get in on the action I wasn't going to tell her to fuck off and stay at home. Besides, her CyberLink worked the best on scene, rather than stuck behind a computer desk miles away - at least, that's the understanding I received from her explanation yesterday.

More than the anxiety, my heart thundered with the overwhelming confidence that Cass would not come to harm tomorrow. Whether it was from 084 turning some asshole's body inside out with magic, or me embodying the full breadth of The Lore of Heavens and dropping an actual meteor down on Brockton Bay, I was going to fully ensure my girlfriend's long and prosperous health.

But first, having lil' buddy show off some tricks.

"L-like I said, big guy - I'm not tryna say you're lyin' or anything…" Sherrel's voice, nervous and cautious, brought me out of my thoughts.

I blinked, locking back in just in time to see Cassie waving her phone at the mechanic with an eager grin on her face. "Relax, that isn't Jay's 'fuck you, I'm pissed' frown. You see how his finger is twitching and he keeps glancing between me and 084… we're probably about to see what his Programs can do."

Sherrel's face drew down into a bemused frown. "I've known you two for a fuckin' day. How the hell am I supposed to notice all that?"

"You're not. It's my job as his girlfriend to be aware of all of Jay's little tells - that way I get early warning when he turns all evil and starts slaughtering puppies or something," Cassie said seriously, nodding her head once.

Sherrel paused, and her frown twitched into a considering smirk. "… Fair 'nuff, short stack."

"I'll never slaughter puppies," I cut in belatedly, lowering my sunglasses a couple inches so that the two women were privy to the full force of my unamused glare. "And yeah, we're gonna try out lil' buddy's Pod Programs. Cass, go put on something you can sweat in."

Her face paled. "Wait, why only me? And why didn't you say anything about turning evil, you weirdo?!"

I shrugged my shoulders, coolly pushing my sunglasses back up my nose.

She pouted, wiggling her plush butt back into her seat. "No, you don't just get to act all mysterious and smooth like you didn't just-"

" Ahhhh. Welp, let's get this fuckin' show on the road!" Sherrel grinned after letting out a loud, obviously forced yawn. She stood, kicking the dining chair back under the table and grabbing both her and Cassie's coffee mugs in order to take them to the sink. When she passed the quiet 084, it was with a narrow-eyed side glance. "Hopefully you're packin' like your daddy, pipsqueak."

Cassie's resolve faltered, and she slammed her fists on the dining table. It barely shook from the force. "D-don't just ignore me, you-"

"Affirmative. This Pod is well-equipped to assist Master and Mistress with any and all threats, be they foreign or domestic." Came 084's robotic, monotonous response, cutting off Cassie's words once again.

Sherrel merely snorted, turning on the tap to rinse out the two cups and place them on the dish rack. "Let's go see it, then."

" Ooooh! Assholes! Fuckers! F-frickin' douche nozzles!"

Cassie's face looked positively volcanic at this point, her cheeks blotchy and red as she pushed herself out of her chair and glared at me. Sherrel and I, almost in sync, shared a surreptitious glance of amusement at the girl's plight. Unfortunately for her, no amount of love could ever temper my constant desire to tease, and thankfully Sherrel was socially aware enough to pick up on and continue my little game.

We were burning daylight, though.

"Relax," I chuckled, taking a step forward and brushing a messy strand of hair out Cassie's flushed face.

"Fuck off." She wrinkled her nose and turned her head head away, but my fingers were too swift for all that - I tilted her head back towards mine and leaned down to press a hot, gentle kiss against the softness of her pouty pink lips.

Her knees buckled, and the frustration in her body bled away immediately. " Mmm…"

My lips grinned against hers, and I opened my eyes to meet her fluttering gaze. "Meet us in the Training Hall in ten minutes, wearin' a hoodie and some sweatpants. Grab the uzi out the dresser too, yeah?" I was speaking quietly, but the deepness of my voice seemed to fill the entire kitchen.

Cassie's hands groped at my white t-shirt, wrinkling the fabric, and the sweet scent of coffee drifted past my nostrils when she sighed dreamily. "Y-yeah."

"Good girl."

She squeaked when my hand smacked against her pajama-clad bubble butt, sending ripples through the supple flesh. " Eee! God, Jay, you're such a fucking perv…" she breathed, fighting down a wide smile that so desperately wanted to take over her lower face.

"You like it," I countered easily, giving her ass a light squeeze before backing away. "You're smilin', too - guess we're both perverts."

That made the smile fully break through, and Cassie about-faced and made a bee-line for the living room before I could call her out on anything else. "Shut up!"

When I shook my head and looked back at Sherrel, I was met with the bombastic blondie eyeing me with her hands on her wide, jean-warping hips. It was easy to distinguish the feelings that she wore pretty clearly on her sleeve - amusement and curiosity, mostly. She continued to eye me even as I made my way across the kitchen floor, heading towards the doorway that would take us down into the Training Hall of the Sanctum. I could feel the energy circulating in the room - a familiar, static-like anticipation. What could it be, other than pure, primal, base sexual tension?

It was almost palpable, and it built between us every moment Sherrel witnessed Cass and I making kissy faces at each other.

I paused at the exit, glancing over my shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "You coming?"

She clicked her teeth, a wry grin on her lips. "Well damn big guy, I really fuckin' hope so, what with you playin' hot and cold for the past day and a half."

It was my turn to let out a loud snort. Chuckling dryly to myself, I turned on my heel in order to continue making my way out of the kitchen. "Touche."

Sherrel, her voice high and clear with peals of laughter, followed right behind me.

…

Fifteen minutes later found our ragtag group down in the spotless, sprawling gymnasium that I'd unofficially dubbed the 'Training Hall', standing - or, in Sherrel's case, lounging back - beneath the dull, fluorescent lights hanging from the dark stone ceiling. Other than me rejecting Smoke Bombs - again - from the Grimoire, the wait had been pretty uneventful.

Cassie stood nervously beside Pod 084, clad in only a crop-top pink hoodie, Vans, and baggy white sweatpants. The uzi I'd taken from a Merchant safehouse over a week ago was gripped tightly in both of her hands, though I noticed that she was holding it with some familiarity - she held it high on the grip, her index finger noticeably held away from the trigger guard.

Considering she was apparently born to some dysfunctional Asian family, I was willing to bet that she learned how to hold an SMG from her time with the ABB and not from childhood gun range excursions.

I paced the smooth wooden floor forty or so feet away from the nervous girl and her robot assistant, hands resting snugly in the pockets of my gym shorts.

"Jay," Cass hesitantly called out, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. "What's the plan here? Because if you want me to do some crazy shit like shoot at you, I'm going to friggin' shoot you."

Her concern for my wellbeing was touching, it truly was, but it was also pretty redundant. While my current clothing wasn't enchanted or Infused, I was fairly confident in my ability to get the fuck out of the way of a bullet if it came down to it.

While my base reflexes weren't on 'bullet-time' levels, I had other things working for me - Hidden Intuition being one of them. With my new and improved eyesight, courtesy of becoming Superior, I was able to clearly see her finger near the trigger guard. The gun seemed brighter in my eyes, more dangerous. The second her index finger even flinched towards the trigger, I'd be privy and have enough time to teleport across the room. Conveyance having a new range of one hundred feet was huge.

But we weren't here for all that.

If Cassie wanted to join the fight tomorrow, I needed her and 084 at the top of their game - and that meant taking the kiddie gloves off. I wouldn't hurt them… too much.

"Relax, you're not shooting at me," I soothed her, taking one hand out of my pocket. My next words were whispered in the tonal language of the Aethyr, the syllables warm and tingly on the tip of my tongue. "Xamön'oy kurnas."

Chamon and Ghur began coalescing around my fingers, thickening and writhing in the air until, mere moments later, it formed a small, glimmering golden whistle. The metal was cold in my hand, and oddly heavy - I estimated about four or five pounds.

Cassie's eyes narrowed. "Jay… Jay, what's that? Why are you holding a- is that a whistle?"

084 hovered over to her left side, the light on its head blinking red. "Affirmative. Report: It does appear to be a whistle made of gold, Mistress."

She clenched the uzi tighter, ignoring the AI's unintentional sarcasm. "Gold usually means 'really scary shit' when it comes to him…"

I smiled. "Lil' buddy, listen to Cass and protect her against any and all threats from now on. You're gonna be in danger soon, so get ready. " I spoke directly to the little robot while taking a couple steps back.

The light flashed green. "Affirmative. This Pod will protect the Mistress with its life."

CLICK.

"Holy shit."

I heard Sherrel gasp from the sidelines when 084's undercarriage opened up like a metal sliding tray, dropping down a heavy-duty minigun barrel that was already beginning to hum and spin at a slow, lazy pace. Cassie's eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she took an instinctive step back behind the dangerous-looking robot.

"W-wow. Okay. Okay, Jay, we can talk about this-"

"Cass," I interrupted the nervous hacker, bringing the golden whistle up to my smirking lips.

"… Yeah?" she whimpered pitifully.

"Remember: Determination. Willpower. Big, heavy balls. You don't wanna die, right?"

She paled. "… No?"

"Sweet. Then figure out how to use the power I gave you before you run outta ammo."

"What-"

"Love ya, babe."

I blew into the whistle, and the Yellow Wind of Magic heeded its shrill cry.

It rose from the smooth wooden floor like a large, glimmering pool of molten gold. To say that my hound was massive would be an understatement; before my very eyes, the molten gold liquid warped, stretched, and hardened into a snarling, hackle-raised beast roughly the size of a Ford Fiesta - smaller than Bitch's dogs, for sure, but a shit ton larger than any pure blooded wolf you could find in a forest. Its entire body was carved with intricate and elaborate designs that reminded me of gilded leaves, if you ignored the obvious cogs and wheels powering its muscular limbs.

More prudent than its badass steampunk aesthetic, however, was the animalistic, bestial rage that I could sense emanating from its body as it snarled at the calmly hovering Pod. Changing Gehenna's Golden Hounds to only summon one wasn't that difficult - it just required a smaller amount of Chamon gathered for the spell. Making the Hound not immediately lunge across the Hall and turn 084 into a doggie toy was a bit harder to spin, but trace amounts of Ghur and a little bit of natural talent with the Winds did most of the heavy lifting.

Making the golden dog not bloodthirsty and ferocious, though?… Eh, a little bit over my paygrade. Maybe it was possible once I finally cracked Qhyash.

"What the fuck is that?!" Cass screamed, real fear amplifying her normally high-pitched voice to a shrill screech.

I dug a finger in my ear with a slight grimace. "Shit, Cass - volume. This is Chop, and homie's a lil' hungry. Ain't that right, boy?"

WHIRRR.

CRACK.

It snapped its golden jaws, sparks flying around its metallic teeth as it lowered its upper body down to the ground and leered at its 'opponents'.

Cassie balked. "I-"

"I won't let it actually kill you," I cut her off, taking a step forward to rest a calming hand on the Hound's large, cold head. It didn't shift an inch, the crimson glow of its glaring eyes brightening in intensity. "But we need to see 084 in action, and you need to get used to working with him. If you figure out how to use the energy attacks, cool - I'll always be proud of you, but the main priority right now is getting you two synchronized so that 084 can effectively protect your ass. The last thing I wanna see tomorrow night is you gettin' caught out and slammed by some nazi fuck. 'Cuz then I'll have to blow up Lord Street. You feel me?"

There was a contemplative silence after my little speech.

I had made sure to not raise my voice and give life to the very real frustration I was starting to feel creeping into my chest. It wasn't like I could blame her for being afraid. Facing off with a few nazis in broad daylight in a residential district was probably a lot less scary than standing thirty five feet away from a snarling, angry golden dog the size of a small car. Hell, most people wouldn't have the balls to even entertain the idea, nonetheless actively stand there in real life and do it at the whim of their crazy ass boyfriend.

And I was pretty fuckin' crazy. What the fuck even was this training exercise? I could think of at least ten different ways this ended badly.

But then again, I wasn't the best teacher. Sometimes a trial by fire was the best way to-…

'Wait a second… '

It was like a light bulb exploded in my skull.

I looked up, catching Cassie's gaze from across the Hall, and forced Heroic Aptitude directly into her soul.

Power-Granting Deal didn't require physical touch, it only needed consent, and apparently the utter trust and submissiveness Cassie felt towards me counted as such to the powers that be. I could see it in her eyes when the power took hold, the same way I could feel the lack of something warming up my own soul. It wasn't an all-encompassing void; I knew that it would be back soon, that celestial mote of power that acted as my strongest foundation, but I definitely felt a bit… naked without it.

"I don't know what you did, Jay, but… I-I'm ready. I understand what you're doing." Cass announced, clearly fighting through her wavering confidence in order to put on a brave face. It was a useless effort, considering her knees were shaking a little, but the glow of determination in her eyes was real. She gritted her teeth, taking a shaky step forward in order to stand equal to 084, and tightened her grip on the submachine gun.

Her eyes narrowed. "You're right, like frickin' always. I asked to stand by your side as an equal, not some stupid damsel in distress. If- if that means getting mauled by America's most expensive dog, then screw it. That's better than being useless…"

I blinked in confusion, a pang of concern darting through my chest. "You're not useless, Cass-"

She instantly cut me off. "Nope, not listening - I already said my cool heroine speech. Hey! Yeah, you stupid stinky neutered yellow mutt! I bet you don't have a penis! B-because robots don't have dicks!" Her voice was beginning to grow in strength, a burst of confidence and energy coming out of seemingly nowhere as she pointed the uzi sideways at the dog - and, by extension, me.

Not good - clearly I had to teach her a little bit more about gun safety.

In a quiet hiss of displaced air, I teleported well out of flagging range - right beside Sherrel. The spectating blonde was munching distractedly on doritos, her fingers sticky and orange as she watched the proceedings with gleaming, amused eyes.

"Howdy," she smirked at me, offering the bag of nacho cheese goodness to me. "Want some? The show's gettin' pretty damn excitin'!"

Did her accent just get thicker? And when the hell did she even get chips?

"Nah, I'm good. 'Preciate it, though." I waved her off, returning my focus to Cass and her sudden growth of testicles. I was confident that I'd be able to disperse the Yellow Winds before any actual damage was done to the Pod or Cass, but not paying attention and letting it get that close in the first place was the highest form of ignorance. She had to struggle and learn, not die.

My Hound rose to its full height at my sudden disappearing act, a deep, robotic growl of warning rumbling from its segmented chest. It moved more like a leopard than it did a dog, prowling forward on large, heavy metal paws that scratched grooves into the smooth wooden floor. It wasn't getting closer yet, simply watching. Waiting for the best time to strike.

084 hovered higher, alighting over Cassie's slim shoulder like a heavily armed guardian angel. "This Pod detects a significantly elevated heart rate. Proposal: Eliminate the threat promptly to alleviate fear." As if in response to his simple words, the Pod's minigun barrel began spinning even faster with an audible whirr of servos and gears.

Cassie swallowed, her eyes flickering over to me and Sherrel before cutting back to the prowling Hound. "That might be our only option. Shit, I don't even have my gear… This really isn't fair, Jay." The hand gripping the uzi began to shake, and Cassie bit her lip, eyes flickering back over to me.

I gave her a thumbs-up.

A wry, desperate smirk formed on her face, and she looked back at the Hound. " Fuck it, life isn't fair I guess. Light 'em up, 84!"

"Affirmative. 'Lighting them up'."

PEWPEWPEWPEW-!

The sudden onslaught of glowing, pale white orbs were swift, overwhelming, and destructive.

Sherrel and I gawked as a veritable barrage of hard light bullets blasted towards the Golden Hound, the only auditory evidence of the firepower on display being a quiet, almost serene 'pew' sound and the hum of the barrels rotating faster and faster. The bullets made loud, reverberating pinging noises as they slammed into the automaton, forcing it backwards and battering its shiny frame.

"O-oh shit! Hell yeah, Pod! Eat it, asshole!" Cassie cheered, her voice an odd mix of fearful and excited. Bringing her own gun up to bear, the hacker held it tightly in both hands and pulled her finger back on the trigger. The SMG barked violently in her hands, the sound of gunshots echoing against the walls as lead bullets joined the Pod's unyielding hard light barrage.

At a range of 12 or so meters, Cassie's aim was actually kinda decent - only half of the magazine went into the ceiling instead of the majority. The moment when she realized that the SMG was already empty could have been amusing, but my amusement was stifled by worry and anticipation when I noticed something that the frustrated Cassie didn't.

The Hound had regained its bearings.

As obnoxious and overbearing as his minigun was, 084's firearm wasn't made to overpower and tear apart heavily armored enemies. The Hound, magically created from strands of Chamon, was fucking beefy. Wasn't it complete bullshit, then, that it was also damned fast?

It lunged across the Hall.

"Oh, come the fuck on! I barely even shot the frickin'- WOAH!" Cassie's eyes widened, and she went to throw her arms up in a desperate attempt to shield her face-

It was rebuffed.

The Hound let out a tinny whine, skidding backwards and pawing at the ground as it cautiously eyed the newest development. Glowing silver shields, like oversized fractals of hard light, were rotating clockwise around Cassie's body. 084 zipped around her head, alighting over her other shoulder in order to pepper the Hound's armored exterior with another hail of bullets.

"Pod Program A060: Physical Shield," The Pod announced matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather over a cup of tea. The quiet 'pew pew pew' of his minigun firing might as well have been background noise.

"R-right, thanks 84!"

Cass stumbled away from the Hound, her grip on the uzi tightening in panic as the clockwork beast scrambled against the floor, golden claws screeching and scratching as it lunged maw-first at her again. "Shit!"

CRACK.

The shield flickered a dull gray before lighting up again, holding strong against the heavy impact of the car-sized automaton. The Hound snarled, its paws making an agonizing screeching noise against the silver fractals as it swiped and clawed with reckless abandon, trying its damndest to get through to the Pod.

Sherrel glanced up at me, chips long abandoned at her side. "You, uh… sure 'bout this, boss man? Kitty cat ain't really fillin' me with a lotta confidence." There was concern in that flippant southern drawl of hers.

I clenched my fist, ceasing the tapping that had begun almost as soon as the mock battle had started. "She's got it," I muttered confidently, narrowing my eyes at the sight of the Hound finally breaking through the shield. My hands twitched, aching with a protective fervor to protect and destroy, but the rational and logical part of my brain persevered.

I just had to have faith in them.

As if rewarding my faithfulness, the Grimoire lasso'd in another mote of light - this one small and minor, but effective nonetheless.

Spoiler: Arcane (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP)

You have the mystical trait known as "Arcane" that makes it extremely difficult to be remembered or detected when you don't want to be. This also provides a degree of protection against sympathetic magic.

Without too much further thought, I accepted the perk, reeling it into my soul. Anything that pushed away people's ability to detect me against my will was infallible, especially in a world like Earth Bet, where Thinkers were fucking annoying.

I locked back into the battle happening in front of me, however, putting my newest ability to the back of my head for later monologuing.

Cassie, in a burst of cleverness, clasped hands with 084 and whooped as he jetted into the air, allowing them both to dodge somewhat gracelessly over the Hound's head. Something in her changed as her feet trailed over its golden fur, like something was clicking, and suddenly the gun in her hand was spitting out blue bullets made of a familiar, wisp-like energy.

Mana.

She grinned like a crazy person, fear and adrenaline and determination lighting up her face. The soul-siphoning magic was doing nothing to the Hound - only 084's constant barrage of hard light ammunition was doing real, if superficial damage, but Cassie didn't seem to care at that moment.

Mana bullets began peppering the floor almost as much as they were slamming into the automaton.

"DIE, DIE, DIE! HAHAHA!"

Was she laughing now?… God, that was kinda sexy.

"… Hot damn. Consider my ass corrected." Sherrel snorted, relaxing her tense shoulders when it was clear that Cassie and 084's onslaught was slowly but surely wearing the oversized dog down. It was getting sloppy, stumbling over its own paws as it tried, in vain, to zig-zag around Cass and 084's combined bullet hell assault.

"Trust the process, woman." I grinned with pride, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Hah, don't get too cocky now! She can still fuck up and get-"

A bone-rattling roar shook the Training Hall, rudely interrupting Sherrel and almost deafening me. I cut my eyes back to the battle, where the Hound was dashing towards the hovering forms of Cassie and Pod 084. They were maybe thirty feet in the air, a safe enough distance away from most mundane land mammals… but the Hound was anything but 'mundane'. I could see in the way that its body lowered to the ground and its legs hissed steam in preparation. Hidden Intuition whispered warnings in the back of my head.

It was going to jump. High. And unless they moved…

"Boss," Sherrel swallowed, her cheese-stained hand blindly reaching up to pull on the hem of my gym shorts. She apparently noticed the same thing I did, which was impressive in and of itself.

"Trust the process," I repeated through a stubborn clench of the jaw.

We watched as it finally launched itself at the airborne pair, taking the wide-eyed Cassie completely off guard. She flailed like a floating fish, one hand still gripping onto 084 and the other jerking to the left as she desperately sprayed another burst of mana bullets at the lunging Hound.

"Craaaap , 84… ! "

"Pod Program R030: Hammer."

There was a hum of energy, the whistle of motion, and then…

CRUUUNCH!

A massive glowing hammer, built from fractals of silvery white light and fading Angelic runes, swung down from over Cassie's head as if wielded by an invisible, godly blacksmith. The head of the hammer was almost the same size as the Hound itself, so when it slammed into the side of its gilded body with enough force to generate a shockwave, it practically pulverized the Chamon-empowered gold into scrap. The Hound blasted towards the floor in a pitiful blur of screeching and warping metal.

The crash shook the Training Hall.

Wooden splinters and sundered scraps of gold metal littered the small crater that the thoroughly smashed Golden Hound now layed in, and the heavy, dense scent of Chamon smelled like it was even thicker in the air.

I stared blankly at the sudden destruction. Was that not overpowered as fuck? 'And he has sixteen other programs?! Nerf Pods, man.'

084 lowered Cassie calmly to the ground, and the shell-shocked girl promptly dropped back on her ass. The uzi clattered to the floor beside her, but she paid the weapon no mind - too busy staring blankly at the depowered corpse of the Golden Hound. Even at a distance, I could see the blend of emotions going through her face; the relief, the fear, the elation, the pride. Although her attacks hadn't been effective, she'd faced off against the beast alongside 084 and won. Even more than that, she finally pushed through whatever was holding her back from learning Weapon Magic.

I was so fucking proud.

"Well shit," Sherrel laughed, jumping to her feet with a grunt. "That's what I'm fuckin' talking 'bout, kitkat! You killed the fuck outta that mangy sack of golden shit!" She began making her way over to the center of the Hall, a jubilant bounce in her step. I matched her pace.

Her voice, and the sound of our footsteps, seemed to snap Cass out of her stupor. The hacker blinked, her shaking hands coming up to squeeze and pat her own flushed cheeks. "H-holy crap, holy shit, holy fuck. We destroyed it. Oh my god 84, we frickin' dusted it! You're crazy!" With a sudden burst of energy, Cass leaped up and glomped the silently hovering Pod. It didn't shift an inch with the addition of her weight.

The light on its head blinked green.

"Gratitude confirmed. This Pod will forever protect Mistress from nazi scum and golden puppies." Its robotic voice, if such a thing was even possible, sounded proud.

She snickered, rubbing her cheek against the cool metal of his smooth gray hull. "Uh-huh. For such a smarmy asshole, you're surprisingly reliable."

"Backhanded compliment confirmed. Report: Affinity increased."

"PFFT, ditto."

As we approached the two victors, Cassie pushed herself off of the robot, landing softly on her feet, and turned towards us with an unreadable expression on her face. There was a glow about her now, a confidence and eagerness to her face and body language that hadn't been there before the battle. Although the fight had been short and fierce, it was probably the scariest situation she'd been in since… forever? The ABB?

Heroic Aptitude had sharpened my battle instincts and reflexes in my very first fight against those nazi assholes a couple weeks ago, so I was hoping that Cassie's experience was similar.

I offered the silent girl a crooked grin. "I know you're probably wantin' to use your new 'pew pew' powers to shoot me in the dick, but I promise; you were never in any actual dan- oof!"

She slammed into my chest like a missile, wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing me with all of her strength. It felt more like someone binding me with spaghetti noodles than a fully grown woman trying her best to crush my bones with her love, but I wasn't going to be the asshole to tell her that.

"I know you were trying to help, you jerk. In your own ridiculous way. And I don't feel as scared anymore now… so thank you. I… I think I needed this win. Before tomorrow night." Cassie mumbled into my shirt, her warm body flush against mine. I paused for the briefest of moments, surprised at the sincerity and lack of anger in her tone, but the surprise passed me by quickly and I almost immediately wrapped my arms around her.

"… I am pretty fuckin' great, aren't I?" I chuckled, rubbing a gentle circle on her lower back.

Cassie pulled her head back so that I was able to see the completely deadpanned scowl on her face. "Don't push it, mister. I still kinda wanna shoot you in the dick. A few inches shot off might deflate your ego a little."

I grimaced, stuck between amusement and phantom pain. "Heh… sorry?"

"Huh… wonder if we can use any of this metal for the ride. Sheeeesh, that tacky pup was a motherfuckin' unit! All this scrap… hahaaa, come to momma!" Sherrel's loud voice drifted from behind the two of us.

Cassie detangled herself from my arms, a note of pride and happiness flitting across her face when she noticed the mechanic eyeballing the wreckage with wide, impressed eyes. Briefly standing on her tippy toes to press a soft, chaste kiss on the corner of my lips, Cass shot me a smile before jogging over to the battered and steaming body of the fallen Golden Hound.

Sherrel glanced over at her approach, offering a grin and a fist to the smaller girl, and Cassie's smile turned into full-blown beaming as she slammed her fist into Sherrel's.

"Woooah… it's a lot bigger up close, when I'm not, y'know… trying to not die from it's six inch teeth."

"Hah, I fuckin' bet! Think I needa start callin' you 'tiger' instead of 'kitty cat', eh? Your claws are startin' to come in, girly."

"R-really? I mean, it's not like I haaate being called kitty…"

I snorted, tuning out the women's conversation and allowing myself to cool down. Throughout the entire fight, despite knowing that she was never in any actual danger, my blood had been pumping wildly through my veins almost the entire time. If I felt this way in a mock battle, cordoned off in my own fucking Fortress of Solitude, how would I feel if she actually got harmed during a real fight? I joked about blowing up Lord Street and starting my 'villain arc' if Cassie ended up getting fucked up, but they were supposed to have been just that - shitty jokes. I wasn't ruled by my emotions… usually.

But with this magical power practically bubbling out of my soul… would I be able to contain my anger if something like that came to pass? I was a vengeful motherfucker. I was hunting down the Empire Eighty-Eight to the last man because they decided to punch me in the jaw on my first day on Earth Bet. I was a firm believer in 'an eye for an eye', except I was taking a shit ton more than your eye if you ever blinded me.

The thought was kinda… sobering. I was actually kinda-

"Master," Pod 084's monotonous voice shot through my increasingly morbid thoughts, bringing me out of my reverie. "This Pod believes in the condemnation of filthy litterers, and have brought you the Mistress' firearm to stow away."

In its little grubby mitts was the uzi Cass had been using earlier as a catalyst for her Weapon Magic. It wasn't a bad match for the girl, but… she probably needed something smaller. Less 'spray and pray', more 'calculated'.

The maniacal laughter was hot, but she wasn't built like that.

"Thanks lil' buddy. And good work out there - I want you and Cass to familiarize yourselves with your Pod Programs while Sherrel and I are out, 'ight? And practice mobility too - that hover thing you did with her was some prime shit." I said, taking the gun and slipping it into the back of my waistband. The smile I offered him felt wooden on my face. Stiff.

084 lingered, its head-light flickering red. "Affirmative. However, this Pod detects… unease. Master's expression does not match previously recorded examples of 'genuine happiness'. Query: What is wrong? Did we not win?"

The questions came out of left field, and so did 084's sudden emotional insightfulness. I blinked, taken aback.

"Nothing's wrong, homie. It's just…" I glanced back at the girls, noting that they were actively trying to pull apart torn panels of gold from the dead Hound, and lowered my voice. "We haven't won yet. Not even close. And I'm keepin' it cool, trying to get everyone prepared for the Empire, but… I'm still kinda scared, y'know?" I tried to keep my tone light and casual, refusing to even acknowledge the possibility that I'd crack while talking to a fucking robot.

084 hovered empathetically. How it did that, I had no idea, but the way it floated up and down while listening to me felt personal. Or maybe I was starting to lowkey go crazy from the gigantic amount of repressed stress writhing in my body.

"This Pod recognizes the Master's emotional turmoil. Query: Why are you afraid?"

Hah. Why, indeed? I rolled the question around in my head for a few moments, actually thinking about it, and the answer that came to the forefront of my mind was relatively straightforward. I wasn't afraid for myself. No, that ship had sailed a while ago. I didn't want to die, and I'd fight tooth and nail to make sure that I came out of everything in one piece, but I wasn't afraid to die. A Hero couldn't stall in the face of death.

No, I…

"I'm just scared of failing. The Empire is stacked, the PRT is obsessed with just keepin' the status quo, and the only allies I really have are you, my hacker girlfriend, and Sherrel - who was literally dying from meth abuse two days ago." I shook my head, eyes flickering left and right before settling on the blank white canvas that was 084's 'face'. My finger ached to start tapping, and I resisted the urge. God I fucking hated feeling sorry for myself.

"I'm kinda all we got right now. I'm holdin' it together, I will hold it together, but if I fuck up…"

The Pod listened silently, and when I finished it simply hovered there, watching me. Seconds went by, one, two, and then ten, and just as I was about to say 'fuck it' and turn away, 084 stirred.

His light flashed green. "This Pod has finished simulating one thousand, one hundred and seventy six possibilities for tomorrow's mission, utilizing information collected about the Empire Eighty-Eight from classified PRT databases. Out of one thousand, one hundred and seventy six simulations, we have experienced complete and abject failure in approximately sixty of them. As a result, this Pod estimates a ninety five point three percent success rate for tomorrow's mission, assuming all conditions are optimal."

There was a lull, where I simply stared blankly at 084, and he spoke up again. "Proposal: Simply do not 'fuck up'. Win. Numbers do not lie, Master, and this Pod is equipped with state of the art calculation software."

…

I found myself chuckling, an airy, almost drunk feeling warming my blood.

The overpowered alien AI robot was right, of course - because why wouldn't he be? I just had to win. 'Just do better' had been one of my favorite things to say back when I was a toxic gamer, dominating the leaderboards and pissing off both teammates and enemies alike. Simply be better than the enemy, dominate them completely and wholly, and relish in the victory afterwards. Why the fuck would I lose to a bunch of weak, cowardly, ignorant skinhead fucks with parasites attached to their brains when I had motherfucking magic? Honest to Jesus, 'fuck your physics'-blessed arcane mastery?

It was crazy how the white supremacists were being hunted by someone actually superior to them on a genetic level.

Damn, I really hated feeling sorry for myself. It made me forget how fucking awesome I was. I was black, handsome, and proud, and God fucking damn it I would make Kaiser watch as I fucked his ex-wife, burned Medhall to the ground, and dap up his teenage son afterwards.

"You're a fuckin' G, 84." I grinned at the little robot, showing it my fist. No more words were necessary, because the knuckles said it all.

084 promptly fist-bumped me, and it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Compliment confirmed. Rebuttal: No, you are a 'fucking G'."

A second, much louder bark of laughter escaped my chest.

Turning around, I began making my way towards Cassie and Sherrel, a bounce to my step that hadn't been there before. They had managed to pry apart most of the Hound's outer frame, though it was obvious that the mechanic had been doing the majority of the work. They both turned to face me as I approached, Cassie with a raised eyebrow and Sherrel with a stripe of oil on her cheek.

"'Ight, Sherr - we're headin' out, gonna shake up those safehouses and see if we can grab a ride. Babe, stay here and practice with 84. Mobility and escape tactics, Pod Programs, all of that. I want you ready to kick ass tomorrow." The words were said with a cool, laidback tone - but the underlying order was as clear as day.

I wasn't sure if it was a testament to my new looks, the fact that other humans now instinctively recognized me as a 'superior being', or if I was just actually built different, but neither women even bothered to argue against me. Sherrel shrugged, wiping her hands on her bare legs and lightly hopping out of the small crater. A few golden cogs and nuggets were tucked into her bra and shorts.

Cassie, meanwhile, just let out an exaggerated sigh while pushing herself back up to her feet.

"Ugh, I guess I will if you're using that tone," she simpered with barely restrained eagerness, a small pout forming on her lips. The whole 'rebellious attitude' fell flat on its face when, as she meandered past me, the petite hacker whispered a soft 'stay safe' in my ear. As soon as I registered the words, she zoomed excitedly towards 084.

I didn't get the chance to pinch her butt, but I was able to slide Heroic Aptitude out of her soul and back into mine - right in its former spot. My body became warmer with its addition.

"What a cutie," Sherrel snorted, watching Cassie go with a fond smirk on her face. "I'm gonna go grab a duffel from upstairs to throw some of this gold in, boss. Come get me on your way out!"

"Sounds good."

She was already moving, and I was not ashamed to admit that I did, in fact, love to watch her leave - something that the mechanic clearly knew, judging by the way that her hips were moving with just enough bounce to jiggle her fat ass.

I almost wanted to bite my fist. 'God damn.'

A high-pitched wolf whistle rang out from behind me, and Sherrel let out a loud, cackling laugh as she exited the Training Hall. A quick glance backwards revealed Cassie, leaning against 084 with an exaggeratedly smug smirk on her face. She clicked her tongue and gestured towards the door with her head. "You see the ass on that chick, bro? Fuck, man."

I shook my head with a rueful grin. "You're ridiculous."

Her giggles followed after me, even as I teleported to the exit and followed Sherrel up into the rest of the Sanctum.

With Cassie and 084's training taken care of, there were only a few more tasks needing to be completed before the day was officially over.

Next stop? The Docks.

It was finally time to catch a ride, and while we were out tinkering… maybe it was time to look into Infusions, as well.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Arcane (World of Darkness: Sorcerer - 100 CP): You have the mystical trait known as "Arcane" that makes it extremely difficult to be remembered or detected when you don't want to be. This also provides a degree of protection against sympathetic magic.

1200 CP remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

So, I had plans to have the whole training thing done halfway into this chapter and then move onto Jason and Sherrel out in the Docks, but… character development happened? As it does?

Next chapter will be car-tinkering, a bit of ABB pulverizing, and some Infusion experimentation. Our 'heroes' are sharpening their claws.

Check out the if you're impatient! Chapter 26 is already posted there, and Chapter 27 will be posted tonight! Otherwise, see you cuties Friday!

Chapter 30

The Docks, 1 PM - A Day Before the Mission.

"You sure this is the right address, Squealer?" I asked, heavy amounts of doubt clear in the low timbre of my voice. I squinted at the large, stainless steel of the dilapidated storage factory, noting the very obvious red and green Azn Bad Boi tags messily painted all along the front of the massive, run-down facility. The Docks, as always, were the centerpiece of urban decay in Brockton Bay, and it just so happened that the very last address we needed to check was basically balls-deep in ABB territory, locked behind a rusted chain-link fence that had been easily ripped open.

Why the fuck the Skidmark had thought to set up shop this close to Lung and his gang of sex-trafficking assholes beats me, but I was fairly certain that 'drug-induced retardation' was a major deciding factor there.

Fortunately, getting to this part of the neighborhood without gaining too much attention from the patrolling gang bangers was easy enough - my new trait, Arcane, made it so that as long as I walked with confidence and kept to the shadows, no mundane human noticed me slinking by. Sherrel was a bit of a harder case, considering the bulky, money-filled duffel tossed over her shoulders and her own lack of magical abilities, but we made it work. The Docks were home to people of all races and cultures, after all, even though Asians were significantly more prevalent in the area. With her blonde hair stuffed beneath her trucker hat and a bit of illusionary nudging from the Grey Winds, no one bothered us on the streets and no one trailed us from the shadows.

At least, none did as far as my Second Sight could see.

"It's the street I remember. And I already told ya this earlier, big guy - call me Overdrive when we're out doin' shady shit. Fuckin' hate that stupid name. Don't know why I let Shitmark stick it to me." 'Overdrive' frowned, dropping her duffel onto the glass-stained concrete and rolling her shoulders with a relieved groan. "Ahhh, fuck… that's nice! Heh, who knew carryin' fifty grand could be so painful, yet feel so freakin' good?"

A stack of bills, worn and dirty but real, fell out of the bulging duffel bag on impact with the ground. I clicked my tongue, gesturing towards the cash with one golden-clawed finger. Magic heeded my will, pure Aethyr - neutral to the more conflicting Winds of Magic - coalescing around the stack and lifting it back into the duffel bag. Another minor gesture, and the bag violently zipped itself up, the zipper breaking off and skidding across the cracked concrete.

Huh. A reminder to use less force next time.

Sherrel raised an eyebrow, glancing back at me, and I offered an unrepentant smirk.

"Whoopsie . Forget about the cash for right now, Squ-… Overdrive; we've got bigger things to worry about, like the fact that you motherfuckers tried to set up a crackhouse right in the middle of ABB territory. What's up with that?" I didn't need to turn in order to scan the abandoned streets behind me. It was one in the afternoon, but the sky was as moody and cloudy as it had been yesterday, leaving the Docks beneath a dreary shade of doom and gloom. I couldn't see anyone in the immediate area, but it was only a matter of time before we were noticed.

Overdrive shifted on her feet, her green eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of her welding goggles. It didn't do much to hide her face, but it was… about as effective as my mask, so I couldn't judge. A frown formed on her lips. " Like I told you, I… I really don't know, boss. I ain't kiddin' when I say that I lost a lotta my life with that bastard. A lotta time, just wasted bein' high." She shook her head stubbornly, the frown deepening into a scowl. "But fuck him, and fuck the ABB. You ain't scared of 'em are ya?" There was a trace of doubt in her voice, burgeoning on disappointment.

Oh ye of little faith.

I couldn't help it - I snorted like a bull, all hot air and amusement. "Fuck no. Lung's strong, but he's just a lil' lizard before he starts rampin' up. A Brute, sure, but I'd be damned before I let a simple Brute get me when I got-" I opened my hand, palm facing up, and the glittering, radiant head of a massive golden spear began rising out of my skin.

"Piss attacks?" Overdrive grinned, crossing her arms beneath her tits.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, dispersing the mana into glowing sparks with a simple clenching of my fist. "Magic, bitch. Let's go bust some heads."

I was itching for a fight, and that was without a Shard-given 'conflict drive'. Most of my more powerful abilities used struggle and danger as catalysts; Heroic Aptitude and Sole Protector, to name a couple. The past four safehouses hadn't posed any threat other than a few hobos who decided to use them as shelter. There had been one homeless guy who'd attacked Overdrive on our way out, seeing the cash we'd pulled from a loose wooden panel in one of the bedrooms, and the mechanic had liquified his ballsack with her high-heeled boots.

Could I be blamed for wanting a little bit of excitement? Maybe a little, since I'd taken out an entire Merchant drug party yesterday, but I was a motherfucking mage. I wanted to use my magic for good, and for blowing shit up.

"Sounds good to me. I have a pretty warm feelin' about this spot, boss man!" Overdrive grunted as she tossed the duffel bag back over her shoulder. "Either we're gonna strike gold here or I get shot in the fuckin' skull! Sounds fun either way."

I grinned wryly, urging the cloying Winds of Chamon to drift down away from the rundown factory and gather in my hands. "Don't be so eager to die, dumbass - I'm liable to leave you bleedin' out like that. Now c'mere, let's see how much of you we can make bulletproof."

Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline, and the grin on her face turned shit-eating. She practically teleported in front of me, close enough for my nose to pick up Cassie's citrus-scented shampoo. "Now you're speakin' my language! Say, can ya do something with this wrench I nabbed? Mama's not tryna be defenseless after that last asshole tried to grab me." She pulled the bulky metal tool out of the fleshy valley between her tits like it was fucking Excalibur, and my mouth dropped open. When did she even grab that?

I swallowed, keeping my gaze even with her goggles. A crooked smile pulled at my lips.

Mind on the prize, Jay.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can make it work."

The warehouse almost immediately turned into chaos after Avalon, quite literally, kicked open the corroding metal emergency exit door on the side of the building. Turned out there were ABB goons using the old Merchant joint as a base of operations, a good amount of 'em at that, and they weren't too happy about two capes hustling in on their territory.

The red and green-clad thugs had been posted up in the center of the warehouse, counting their ill-gained cash and cleaning guns of all shapes and sizes, while some two-bit mechanic dickhead with grease stains on his wife beater hammered away at a big ol' F150 towards the front of the warehouse, close to the rusty overhead door that had probably been used to get the vehicle inside.

The truck looked mighty familiar, too. Like a long-lost child. She would never have been caught dead with that hideous Christmas-themed paint job, though.

The only reason why she wasn't a fucking pin cushion of lead right now, after they'd bulldozed their way into the building, was because of her new boss's frankly bullshit Trump powers. How did he go from rusting metal, teleportation, and summoning golden energy spears… to outright melting firearms with a sweep of his hand? Over a dozen guns, from pistols to firearms, heated to the point of glowing red and scorching flesh.

Hell, how the fuck did he manage to look so fucking gorgeous doing it?! Bullshit! She'd never even heard of any cape with such a versatile powerset. Hell, not even the Golden Boy himself, Dauntless, was able to do shit like this-

CRAAAAACK!

BOOOOM!

And he was still blowing shit up? Were those bright blue lights actual lightning?!

"F-fuck this shit, we have to call for the Boss! Call for Oni Lee! We cannot handle-"

She gritted her new, pearly white teeth. "Ya'll ain't callin' nobody!"

Fuck no - overconfidence or not, the last thing she wanted was Lung putting his ugly ass lizard nose into their operation. Overdrive pushed off of the wheezing asshole she'd pulped from behind, leaving the shorter Asian man bleeding and groaning on the floor, and charged at the stumbling pussy fumbling around in his pockets. Her body felt lighter than it ever had in the past, and the 24 inch, stainless steel wrench she was gripping felt like quicksilver in her hands.

"Wait!"

CLANG.

The tool, originally meant for gripping and turning objects, made for a really fucking effective bludgeoning weapon. Overdrive stumbled forward as all of her sprinting momentum transferred directly into the goon's chest, smashing through the tough leather of his bomber jacket and dusting the fragile bones underneath. The poor guy couldn't even cry out in pain before he flopped backwards like a dead fish, a bloody wheeze drifting from between thin lips.

"Bitch." Overdrive snorted, straightening her back and stomping on his cellphone. Broken circuitry and plastic scattered across the concrete floor. "Heh, two down. This shit's too easy-"

There was the sound of footsteps rushing behind her, and her ears twitched.

"Move!"

She found herself tossing her body to the side before her brain even managed to catch up with her actions. Heart racing and adrenaline sending shivers down her spine, Overdrive flipped over and brandished her wrench defensively - only to pause and gape at the sight of another thug, this one much bigger and muscular than the two she'd beamed with her wrench, staring down at her with wide, redshot eyes. A familiar golden spear, large and majestic, bore completely through his stomach, the wicked head of the glowing weapon extending out past his body by at least three or four feet. If she'd stayed where she was, the spear would have pierced through her as well

A large metal pipe dropped to the floor, making a loud, metallic 'clang'. The thug's body followed it right after.

She swallowed thickly, conflicting emotions dizzying her brain. Relief and gratitude were at the forefront.

"Gettin' cocky during a fight ain't good for your health," Avalon commented, casually stepping over the fallen body like it was a small puddle of water. As he passed by it, the golden spear disappeared into motes of light, washing away in the stale, silent air of the warehouse. He offered her a gauntlet-clad hand, and Overdrive took it.

"I coulda handled it!" she replied defensively, the words feeling plastic and clumsy even to her. "But… thanks I guess, boss man. You, uh - took out the rest of 'em?"

Avalon didn't respond, his one visible, lidded eye drifting down to the bloodied wrench still gripped in her right hand. After one or two quiet seconds, he turned his gaze back up to meet hers and smiled that easy, devil-may-cry smile that, without fail, managed to make her fucking heart race like she was some virgin teenager again. Why the hell did his powers decide that he needed to look so freakin' perfect?!

When he didn't respond for another moment, Overdrive almost tore her hand out of his in frustration. She was almost one hundred percent certain that her cheeks were turning red, and mama was not supposed to be the one blushing-

"They're just sleepin'," he snorted, letting go of her hand and gesturing to the chaotic scene behind him. While she had gone for the shitty mechanic and the snitch, Avalon had dove right into the middle of the action. Neither of them had time to count just how many gang bangers were occupying the warehouse, but there had to have at least been a little over a dozen.

Which meant that the boss had taken out ten of 'em. Shit.

Bodies, smoking and spasming and bleeding - but still alive, if barely - littered the floor of the warehouse like unwanted, discarded toys. The large metal table they'd been counting money on was embedded halfway into the rusted metal wall of the building, and some poor guy was dangling from the second story catwalk by his ankles - which were skewered into the metal with a particularly shiny spear.

Overdrive gave Avalon a deadpan stare. "You sure they're all alive, big guy? 'Cause bein' a shriveled up veggie is hardly a way to live the rest of ya life."

He tilted his head, the insufferably handsome smirk on his lips growing more amused. "Says the chick who beamed a guy in the back of the skull with an enchanted wrench. Now he's gonna have lingering brain damage."

She sniffed. "Fucker deserved it. Doin' that to such a fine vehicle should be considered a fuckin' war crime."

"You don't like a lil' bit of late Christmas cheer?"

The affronted glare she shot at him was answer enough, and the boy - no, man chuckled. It was a deep, warming sound.

"Touchy. Look around for the keys and grab anything that looks useful. I'm gonna tie these assholes up before we dip." He ordered, turning back to the assortment of fucked-up bodies and letting out a bored sigh. "They didn't manage to call anybody, but I kinda popped off a lil' bit, made a lotta noise. The PRT's not gonna come this deep into ABB territory just for loud noises, so either Lung or Oni Lee's prolly gonna be here soon."

Her right arm suddenly sagged, and Overdrive grunted, clenching her fist tighter around her wrench. Whatever Striker power he gave it to hit harder and weigh less had apparently worn off, because her sore muscles were starting to whine at her. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle, though, so Overdrive shouldered the oversized tool and gave a sarcastic salute with her free hand.

"Aye aye, boss! Was thinkin' of taking the truck anyway… I think it used to be mine. At least before they stripped him of his fuckin' dignity." She scowled in disgust. Truly, how fucking dare they?!

Avalon waved her off, walking towards the unconscious bodies. He didn't bother stepping over the thug this time, opting to use the man's back as a stepping stone. "Even better. Hopefully they didn't fuck with your stuff too much. Let's make this quick, 'ight?"

Overdrive nodded her head and dropped the salute. An eager grin began forming on her blood-flecked face. "Fuck yeah. Don't worry, baby, momma's got you!" She turned on her heel and ran for the unfortunately-painted F150. Paint jobs were temporary, but hardware was forever - and she would turn this thing into a god-damned masterpiece.

All she had to do was find the fucking keys.

The thought of hot-wiring one of her children felt… icky.

2:30 PM, The Trainyard.

"Country Rooooads, take me homeeee… to the plaaaace, I beloooong~!"

The staticy hum of the old-school radio, combined with Overdrive's surprisingly pleasant singing voice, made for a warm and enjoyable experience as the truck shuddered and thudded along the decaying, crater-filled road. Downtown was pretty much the 'peak' of prosperity for the Bay, and the roads there were already pretty damn bad. With how far North of the Docks we were at this point, 'dilapidated' was the only real way to describe just how shitty things got. I wasn't even exaggerating either, it was really bad. Like, live action The Last of Us bad.

Hobos were living out of abandoned boxcars and roasting fucking rats, for god's sake. And Overdrive was just happily singing along to John Denver, not at all perturbed by how far society has fallen on Earth Bet.

What a shitty fucking world.

'I guess this is what happens when taxes go towards repairing fuckin' kaiju attacks every three months.'

"Pull up there," I murmured quietly, nodding my head towards a particularly wide looking shipping container that we were beginning to drive past. A couple of hoodlums were loitering around the opened entrance, hands in the pockets of their ratty hoodies and coats, but they moved out of the way as soon as they recognized the colors on the truck. That familiarity wasn't a good thing, considering it could trickle down to the ABB and bring attention up to us, but it wasn't like we could do much about it right now.

One thing at a time.

" My home far awayyy- oh, shit! Alright, hold on big guy."

Overdrive shifted in her seat, one hand going down to the stick-shift and the other twisting the leather steering wheel. The truck growled, debris and dust blasting from the bulky wheels as she made a bee-line for the container. I gripped the grab handle above the window, keeping myself steady as my minion/partner performed an on-the-spot 180 degree turn and jetted straight through the opening.

The truck came to an abrupt halt perfectly in the middle of the container, and the abrupt stop sent me and the grinning Overdrive flying forward a bit.

I let out an impressed grunt. "Nice handles, OD."

"Heh, thanks bos- wait, the fuck did you just call me-?!"

Chuckling, I hopped out of the truck before the annoyed woman could scream my ears off. It was a tight fit, but I'd eyeballed the dimensions accurately - we had just enough room to move around the truck, crank it up, and get some good work done without dying of claustrophobia. It was unfortunate that the only real lightsource in the container was coming from outside, but that wasn't much of a problem when you had the Elemental Wind of Light on your side.

Calling a bright, luminescent orb of magical light was as simple as rotating Hysh into a sphere and pushing it towards the ceiling like a disco ball. The shadows of the shipping containers were extinguished beneath the radiant glow, revealing a grungy, garbage-littered environment that looked distinctively lived in. Further down the container, a brown-stained cot was folded up amongst cigarette butts and crinkled beer cans.

I wrinkled my nose. "Gross-"

All of a sudden, before I could finish my insightful observation, a celestial light shone brightly in my soul.

Spoiler: Immutable Form (Mood Boobs - 600 CP)

It's reassuring to know that at the end of the day, you'll still be you.

This perk offers three benefits: Firstly, your body has been fortified against alteration. Your physical form cannot be twisted, changed, or mutated by any power, mundane or supernatural, without your consent. Any changes you do allow won't harm or hinder you, so there's no need to worry about running that marathon, even if you've now got two watermelons stuck to your chest.

Second, your identity has been similarly safeguarded. You are a cosmic blank, immune to psychic mind control, magical possession, memory tampering, or any other force that would change who you are. With a mind and soul beyond corruption, never fear for your personhood.

Finally, you've gained a strange knack for holding onto any physical alterations or effects that you find agreeable. Even temporary modifications can be clung to as you "pause the expiration timer", so to speak. And should a desirable effect or alteration ever expire, you can recall it on command. Make each change to your body your own as you build a library of variations and transformations.

I paused, looking inwards as a grumbling Overdrive slammed her door shut and circled around to the cargo bed of the truck.

My first thought was 'Holy shit', because the effects of the perk on a defensive level was incredible. I wasn't worried or scared of Amy Dallon of all people modifying my body - and speaking of Amy, I had a few texts from her that I had to check soon - but there were other evil assholes I definitely didn't want experimenting on me; I'm looking at you, Bonesaw. Even more important than that, of course, was the immunity to mental and spiritual manipulation.

Now that… that had me grinning like a fucking cat that caught the canary.

The Simurgh had always been that nightmare lurking in the back of my mind. All of the Endbringers kinda were, actually, considering the fact that they were basically this world's versions of kaiju-sized natural disasters, but Ziz was a different breed of 'bullshit fuckery'. I couldn't know for sure, but I was pretty confident that Eyes See All or None protected me from her pre/post cognitive abilities. I wasn't willing to risk everything on the bet that it somehow saved me from getting my brain meat flipped and scrambled by the giant angel's screams, though, so the security in knowing that Immutable Form had my back in that regard was big.

The charge that accepting the perk would take, I could feel, was immense, but my soul was feeling pretty swollen - I probably had a decent amount of 'celestial energy' to spare, and I'd never been one for saving money if I had it.

My second thought, of course, was 'The fuck do they mean by watermelons?'

And then I thought about the name of the perk, and my furrowed brow smoothed out.

'Best not think about the 'verses you're gettin' this shit from, Jay.'

So I just accepted it. Yoink.

It settled down deep within my soul, alongside larger motes of light such as Heroic Aptitude and Sole Protector. The feeling it gave me was warm, a sense of comfort and security, and I felt satisfied in the knowledge that I was that much more annoying to fuck over. It was almost poetic; wasn't I just freaking out about magic changing who I was?

Fortunately that didn't seem like something I had to worry about anymore.

"Aye, boss man! Are you gonna help me out with this raggedy ass workshop or are you tryna watch me break my fuckin' spine? Momma's not weak, but this shit's heavier than a pair of bull nuts!"

Overdrive let out a loud grunt, both of her gloved hands occupied with maneuvering a large, bulky toolbox out the back of the truck. In the minute or two of me parsing my newest gift from ol' Grimmy, she'd already unloaded the trolley jack, an oil-stained tarp that she'd stationed beneath the truck, and a cardboard box of other miscellaneous shit that we managed to scrape together at the ABB's warehouse.

"Don't pull a hammy old lady," I smirked, moving forward to take the toolbox out of her shaking hands. She pouted when I manhandled it with casual ease, but the pout was almost instantly replaced by an amused grin after I tossed the toolbox in the air and smoothly guided it towards the tarp with my bootleg telekinesis. It was hella difficult, actually, but I forced my face to stay composed so it looked easy.

There was no way I was folding in front of the hoes.

"Fucking show-off. Here, help me move this too. And let's stretch this back here - I like havin' extra space for my girlies to breathe when I'm under the hood, if you know what I mean."

"… Yep. You're comin' onto me, right?"

"Hah, shut up! So freakin' cocky…"

I didn't even bother pretending to know my way around vehicle maintenance - I knew better than to manspread my egg-headedness all over an expert's territory, and Overdrive was infinitely more knowledgeable than I was when it came to anything loud and fast… other than sex, prolly. Over the next hour or so, I acted mainly as her 'magical little helper', unloading the rest of the shit out of the truck and cleaning the garbage and hobo stink out of the shipping container with heavy doses of Cleansing Glow.

Even the cot in the back was thoroughly cleaned with Light Magic. The mattress actually looked white again, for the first time in who knows how long.

By the end of my impromptu maid service, the shipping container actually looked like a pretty respectable garage, if a little on the smaller side. I'd closed the entrance after dusting out all the refuse, dimmed the eye-searing brightness of my magical ball of Hysh, and even had some lame ass country song that Overdrive enjoyed playing through the bluetooth of the truck.

I had tried to argue for some R , but she'd vetoed it immediately. Her reasoning? 'Cause seeing you lookin' like that with sex music playin' won't be good for my productivity'.

Bullshit, but the Texan knew how to hit falsetto notes so I wasn't too mad at the song choice.

We were just getting through the third song in David Flat's latest album when a loud, thunderous knock slammed against the entrance of the shipping container.

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

There was the sound of bone smacking against metal from beneath the F150, and Overdrive let out a sharp and violent 'fuck'. There was a lot of passion and spite behind the exclamation, and the sheer venom in her voice was almost as jarring as the annoying motherfucker rapping on the door.

I glanced up from my freshly Infused mask, a bemused arch to my brow. "You order pizza delivery? 'Cuz I was prolly gonna go grab some food soon. Ya boy's gettin' ravenous."

There was another loud knock at the entrance, and Overdrive's face popped up over the hood of the tacky F150. There was a smear of black oil smeared across the bridge of her nose, and a bright red bump shone proudly on her forehead.

She scowled, and I just knew that she was glaring at me through her welding goggles. "I don't have a god damned phone, Avalon. Punch whoever the fuck that is in the nuts, please and thank you. Bastard almost made me break the energy capacitor! That shit's really freakin' fragile engineering, all mottled glass and complicated ass circuitry…" And now she was staring at me expectantly, like I was supposed to share in her annoyance.

I blinked.

"… Yeahhh, don't know what that shit is toots."

Her cheek twitched. "Oh you motherfuckin' dickhead-"

I slid my phone into my pocket, placed my mask back onto my face, and disappeared from where I'd been reclining back on the freshly-cleaned cot. I appeared right at the entrance of the shipping container, where I briefly paused to go through my options.

On one hand, our guest could be Lung. Considering we had just recently kicked the ass of some of his thugs, it wouldn't have been too surprising.

However, Lung was violent and destructive. If he knew that we were holed up in this shipping container in particular, he probably would have torched us inside of it like fucking sardines.

On the other hand, it could simply be the original 'home' owner. We had taken over the spot like pilgrims sniffing out fertile land, after all, and I'd probably be pissed if I came home only to be locked out with no keys.

There were so many options, but so little time. A few different spells flew through my brain - spells that would help me in a face-to-face confrontation with a potentially unknown cape.

But then, I remembered the breakthrough I'd just had whilst listening to David Flat's A Lady's Foil, only fifteen minutes ago.

Infusion was an eye-opening and, quite frankly, exciting process. By forcing my magic into an object and coating its entirety with mana, I could infuse permanent enchantments into basically anything I wanted - within reason. The quality of the object was extremely important, as well-maintained and higher quality craftsmanship allowed for higher mana expenditure, which wrapped all the way around to the Infusion having a stronger effect. The effect was random, based entirely on what object I was Infusing, but that didn't bother me one bit.

Life was a fucking gamble, and the RNG Gods saw fit to bless me with fortune today.

Mask of the Tarnished Hero (Rare)

Infusion: When worn, this well-crafted venetian mask grants the wearer significantly enhanced reflexes and reaction time. Additionally, the wearer is impossible to ambush in combat.

What better way to test out the new digs than having a pleasant, totally non-confrontational conversation with the new neighbors?

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

"Boss-"

"I got it, relax. Just keep workin'."

Bending down, I unlatched the lock, gripped the handle, and with a grunt of exertion and a breath of Aqshy - pulled the heavy ass metal door up in one sharp yank. There was the raucous clangor of steel retracting into steel, a violent noise that clashed with the soft country music still playing from the truck behind me, before the container was fully open.

I found myself staring up into the acne-scarred face of what could only be described as the ultimate hobo cyborg, complete with oversized metal scrap as power armor and welding goggles that were a size or two too small for his swollen, bulbous head. A greasy ponytail hung limply from the back of his neck, and the nauseating scent coming from his body explained the lack of shampoo and conditioner.

I didn't recognize him, which, while not scary, wasn't the best thing in the world.

"Yo," I greeted him, my tone cool and laidback as I offered the scowling man a smile. "If this is your crib, I gotta say homie- I busted my ass gettin' it back in sha-"

Warning bells.

My face was warm.

It wasn't until I felt my head already juking to the side that I came to the realization that the ugly motherfucker had just swung a barrel-sized fist directly at my comparatively squishy face, and with that realization came annoyance and vindictiveness.

My reflexes and speed were already good with Heroic Aptitude, Superior Being, and the Winds of Magic all working in tandem to empower me. In my natural state, without casting any buffing spells, I pretty much surpassed what any mundane human could put out. And all of that wasn't even me trying to gas myself up to seem badass.

With the Infusion on my mask, though? My body felt fucking different.

I pivoted on my feet, ducking around the bulky shell of the asshole's armor and stomping down on the back of his armored knee viciously with my left foot. The gunmetal gray material there was thinner, probably to give him some semblance of flexibility.

Too bad for him.

"Shit!" The armored man swore angrily as he fell to one knee with a loud 'clank', his cumbersome fists rising to grab at my coat - but I had just leapfrogged over his greasy head to get back into my previous position, albeit with my back facing him. There was a second of confusion where he tried to keep up with the speed and spontaneity of my agile movements, but I wasn't giving him that reprieve. Dense mana, rich and heavy and golden enveloped my right leg, and a sound like a fucking shotgun going off tore through the shipping container as I rocketed my foot backwards against the armored man's chest plate in a magic-empowered mule kick.

"URK-!"

BOOM!

Through my Second Sight, I watched as the towering fucker went skidding across the cracked pavement, his metal armor making a shrill screeching sound as it grinded against stone and rubble. Oddly enough, I didn't feel the sensation of bones breaking on impact.

Enemy's knee joint is hollow. Enemy has no bones. The limbs of the enemy's armor is empty.

Huh, weird.

Slowly, I lowered my leg.

"… D'you, y'know-" Overdrive spoke up hesitantly, her oversized wrench gripped in both hands. "D'you need help kickin' him in the balls, boss? I go high, you go low - hit 'em with the good ol' PB ."

She smacked the wrench into her palm a couple times for emphasis.

I straightened up, a roguish grin forming on my lips.

"Nah, I got him." I replied, turning around to watch the armored man. Steam was beginning to vent out the large pipes on his back, intermingling with the black smog venting out of his rusty gauntlets. He screamed, a hoarse and angry sound, and slammed his gauntlets against the ground.

I'd kicked him about fifty feet away, but I could still see the spiderweb cracks that formed in the concrete from his mini hissy fit. Some sort of strength enhancement, powered by the shame of getting his ass kicked? Interesting.

I took a step out of the shipping container before glancing back at the cautious Overdrive.

"Just shut the door behind me. Oh, and use my phone to order some pizza. This shouldn't take too long."

And as the trainwreck of a man shoved himself to his feet, slamming his knuckles together, I summoned the beautifully-designed death that was my Armament. Mana lit the massive spear ablaze in a golden aura, warping the air around the deadly weapon.

The man eyed my spear with a disgusted sneer that revealed gapped, yellowing teeth. "You and yer whore's in my fuckin' house, pretty boy. Don't think that lil' sissy ass spear is gonna work against my-"

"Chill with the talkin', bitch," I cut him off, holding the Armament one-handed and pointing it directly at his neck. "If you're feelin' froggy then go ahead and jump. You already look like a fucking toad."

His face turned scarlet with anger, and without saying another word, the man charged at me like a rampaging bull.

I clicked my tongue. 'Wonder how fucked up he is beneath all that armor.'

And without another thought, I teleported forward.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Immutable Form (Mood Boobs - 600 CP): It's reassuring to know that at the end of the day, you'll still be you.

800 CP remaining.

Spoiler: A/N

Yes, that is Trainwreck at the end. He just didn't know who he is because he hadn't read his wiki entry before.

No, Avalon won't kill him. He won't recruit him or anything, but… I mean, they did just steal his home. Cleaned it up, sure, but ehhh - it is what it is.

Will Avalon make friends with him? Invite him in for some tinkering? Ask him to allow them to stay there and tinker? Hmmmm…

Also, really good roll here - that's our first 600 CP perk I think. It's funny; I had just mentioned to someone that something to resist Master powers would be nice, and then I roll this.

And yes, the last portion of the perk is something that Jason didn't put much stock into, having been so focused on the anti-mastering portion. That doesn't mean the last portion isn't hella fucking good, though. He'll just have to find out about it accidentally. Buffing spells that he can choose to make last indefinitely? Jee fuckin' whizz!

The Infusion on the mask, by the way, is the Artificer Infusion 'Helm of Awareness', which gives advantage on Initiative and makes it impossible to be ambushed. I just translated it to how I feel it would work in real-life.

As always, next chapter is up on and Chapter 28 will be up later tonight! Like this post and lemme know whatchu think!

Chapter 31

Hillside Mall, 3:40 PM

"Ames, are you sureee you don't wanna stop by Victoria's Secret? Get you some facial cream? Exfoliation gel? Ferulic-based serums?" Victoria's voice was casual, almost playful in its whimsy, as she hummed along to the Katy Perry song playing from the mall's overhead speakers.

There was a pause, and she watched amusedly as the scowling, heavily-freckled girl snapped her head up from her phone to shoot blunted daggers at her. Whatever heat she thought was contained in the glare was completely stifled by the way her left hand subconsciously drifted up to touch her chin.

Her cute little face was as smooth as a baby's butt, of course; she'd never had problems with acne or pimples, so the fact that she was suddenly so worried about it was just more proof to add to the notebook.

Amy had a cruu~uush! It was the only logical explanation!

"I already told you no, Vicky," Amy dropped her hand, a self-conscious frown forming on her lips. "Why the heck do you keep asking me? I thought we were going to meet with Dean and Crystal, not go deep-diving for stupid beauty products."

Victoria rolled her eyes, bumping her elbow lightly into her sister's side. "Because," she smirked, lowering her voice into a stage whisper, "You've been glaring holes into your cell phone all day, Amy. Like, actual holes. I don't want my precious little sis getting forehead wrinkles at seventeen!"

As expected, just like yesterday evening when she'd showed up at home soaking wet at 1 AM, the denial came quick and vehement.

"First off, I wasn't glaring at my phone. I was just… waiting for a text. From a friend."

The end of the annoyed statement was muttered in a low grumble, and Victoria latched onto it like a lifeline.

"A text from a friend, hmmm?" she pondered aloud, bringing her finger up to tap idly on her chin. "Huh. Could it be from the same guy that dropped you off last night?"

Amy's cheeks reddened, and the girl halted in her tracks, the hand gripping her phone tightening until the knuckles turned white. For most people, the redness on her cheeks would've only been a slight flush, but for a girl with skin as fair as hers, it radiated outwards like a particularly vengeful sunburn. "H-he didn't drop me off! Or, not he but they didn't- no one dropped me off or gave me their- ugh, fuck you Vicky. Like I said, he's just a friend."

'Bingo!'

A cheshire-like grin formed on Vicky's gloss-covered lips. Amy's reaction was damning enough to confirm everything, but Victoria had to admit - teasing the overworked healer was just plain ole' fun. It was practically impossible to get her all flustered and embarrassed over guys, and at some point she had honestly started to entertain the thought that Amy was just gay. There wasn't anything wrong with that, of course; lesbians were fucking awesome, and Legend was one of her biggest idols!

Still, it was just nice to see her sister actually interested in teenage stuff for once, without her needing to badger the girl into double dates. The thought made her heart glow with warmth.

"I freaking knew it!" Victoria cheered, darting forward faster than the normal eye could perceive and wrapping her arms around Amy's shoulders. One tug later and the smaller girl was being hugged and squeezed like a grumpy teddy bear, though she made sure to keep her strength to 'slight suffocation' rather than outright organ failure.

Her questions came out in one long, excited breath. "Oh. My. God. You have to tell me everything about this mystery guy! Where'd you meet him?! Wait, duh - the hospital, right? Cute guys don't really approach you at school, you're too cool for them. Is he an RN? A doctor? Oooh, a patient?!"

Fellow mall-goers were starting to stare and gawk at them, but Victoria was too excited and curious to spare them any mind. The gossip mill in Brockton Bay was already ridiculous, and no amount of hiding or shying away would stop PHO simps from finding some way to take a pic or spread rumors about her, in-costume or not. It was why 'Glory Girl' trended on the Brockton Bay subforums almost weekly, contending even with the 'Avalon x Purity' tag that had skyrocketed recently.

She didn't give a fuck about the attention, but Amy clearly did.

"Vic, stop making a scene and I'll tell you!" she hissed, smacking her palms into Victoria's side. Her hands bounced right off of her forcefield, of course, feeling more like a soft tickle, but Victoria recognized the 'attack' for what it was.

Pouting, she loosened her embrace.

Amy sighed like she'd been holding her breath through the entire hug, taking a shaky step back and looking away. Her cheeks were still red, but it was hard to tell whether that was from annoyance, embarrassment, or anxiety. She glanced around, noticing the onlookers, and the pervading attention made her practically sink down into her hoodie like a turtle in its shell.

Guilt began to curdle in the pit of her tummy, and Victoria clicked her teeth. "Ames… hold on, I got this."

Right!

Damage control!

She snapped her head over to the group of teenage boys who'd stopped to stare and whisper to each other with smarmy grins on their faces. Her pout promptly turned into a scowl, and Victoria took a threatening step forward in her high-top pink sneakers. Gaslight mode, activated!

"Get the fuck outta here, pervs! Can't a girl hug her sister in peace without you jerking your chodes?!" she shouted, unbothered by the way that her aura licked out and swatted a little bit of fear at the nosy weirdos. "Honestly, the nerves of some people. Makes me feel a little scared to go out in public. Brrr." She did a full body shiver and cringed to add insult to injury.

They reacted as all weak-willed cowards did when they realized that they were in the wrong - stuttered apologies and hasty retreats. Victoria watched them go with a narrowed, severe stare, and flicked silky locks of blonde hair over her shoulder victoriously when the other eavesdropping civvies in the area surreptitiously began going about their business once more.

Glory Girl one, nosy assholes zero!

Victoria turned back to Amy, forcing a cheerful, dazzling grin on her face. There was no way she was allowing a bit of social anxiety to ruin a pleasant day out. "There we go, nice and easy - er, sorry about being so pushy before. You know how excited I can get about this kinda stuff."

Though she was still reticent, Amy offered a small, wry smile. "Unfortunately. It's fine, Vicky… let's just get outta here, find a table or something before you end up getting into a fistfight."

Her forced grin turned genuine, and a giggle escaped Victoria's chest. "How about we head over to the food court, go get some cheesy fries and parfaits from Moriarty's before meeting up with the others? You can tell me all about Mr. Mystery Man on the way."

Amy paused. "… Cheesy fries sound pretty good right now."

"Hell yeah they do," Victoria fist-pumped, flying forward in a blur to wrap her arm around Amy's. The smaller girl didn't yank away or complain when she began pulling her towards the Food Court, and Victoria saw that as a major win. "Now, the most important piece of the puzzle first: The name! Let me guess; something nerdy and cute, like… Reggie? Fred? Oh god, George?"

The heat in her cheeks had all but faded, and Amy made her disgust known with the sneer that wrinkled her button nose. "Seriously Vicky, George? And why would he have to be a 'nerd'? I could like cool guys… n-not that we're dating-"

Victoria snapped her fingers loudly, interrupting the healer. "I got it! Jeffrey!"

"Ugh. No."

"Johnathan!"

"Stop."

"Joseph."

"Why the hell are you only saying names starting with J-"

A bulb flashed bright in her mind. "Ooh, Jason?"

"…"

Amy went suspiciously silent, and Victoria chortled with triumph. "My big sister senses are never wrong, foolish Amelia. Now tell me more about this 'Jason'! Is he cute?" They were getting closer to the recently remodeled food court, which had recovered quite well since Avalon's public dismantling of Hookwolf, so Victoria began shortening her long-legged strides.

Knowing her sister, Amy would use the cheesy fries as an excuse to clam up and chow down. That could not happen!

"Do not call me Amelia, Vic. You know I hate my government name," Amy glared, though the slow smile forming on her lips betrayed her amusement. "And… I don't know? He's not really… cute, I don't think. He-" Something flashed across her freckled face, and the healer's cheeks warmed up again.

Victoria wanted to squee.

"He 'glowed up' recently, so I guess he'd be considered 'hot'? God, this is fucking embarrassing. Boy talk is gross."

Oh, now her interest was close to bursting. "A beefcake, huh? Didn't think you had it in ya, sis! Snuck any pics? A selfie or something?" Smirking sleazily, Victoria made a half-serious swipe towards Amy's phone with her free hand, and she jerked it away in a surprising burst of speed.

"Stop that. And no? When the heck would I have had time to take a picture? I was working when I met him."

Victoria's eyes glinted triumphantly. "Aha! So he is a nurse! Or doctor. Crap, or a patient…?"

"None of the above. He had a- actually, that's none of your beeswax, Vicky! Non-disclosure agreements can't be broken because of nosy siblings."

"Huh? Aren't NDAs for licensed physicians, though?"

Amy scowled, and this time it fully met her eyes. "I still swore in to-"

BZZZT.

The phone was almost tossed from the intensity in which Amy brought it to her face. Overwhelming curiosity about this 'mystery hottie' burning a hole in her stomach, Victoria craned her neck in a subtle attempt to catch a glimpse at the screen.

All she managed to catch was 'usy kicking ass lmfa-' before Amy's jittery fingers mindlessly clicked on an attachment link, and suddenly boobs were in their face.

"… W-woah."

"Holy shit, those are some fucking melons!"

Amy's doe-like eyes slowly, almost fearfully slid towards her older sister's suddenly too-close face, but before she could panic and dart away to hide her phone, Victoria plucked it out of her hand in a blur of superhuman dexterity.

"Vicky!" she hissed in embarrassment, face turning crimson.

Victoria distractedly twirled around Amy's clumsy lunge, her attention focused almost entirely on the picture taking up the entirety of the phone screen.

It wasn't just a boob pic, her tits were just the biggest things in the photo, and thus the most immediately eye-catching.

No, the picture was a cheeky selfie from an outrageously hot blonde woman, probably in her mid to late twenties, wearing nothing but an orange bra, yellow jacket, and a red trucker hat. She was oil-smeared and messy, but there was a wide, happy grin on her face as she flipped the camera off.

More importantly, however, was the scuffle happening in the background.

Victoria gaped, crystal blue eyes almost bugging out of her skull. Words couldn't even begin to describe the conflicting cocktail of emotions flowing through her body. Confusion, shock, awe, concern, curiosity, and something else? Something that felt… bad, like a sinking in her chest. Anxiety? Worry? Whatever it was, she didn't like it.

"… Ames," she said quietly, her voice turning uncharacteristically serious. "Why the hell is Avalon in your contacts? And why is he beating some Tinker with his own arm?! Who even is that?"

Amy went to snatch her phone back in a hurry, and Victoria, in her stupor, numbly let it go. After a few seconds of studying the picture, she let out a low, suffering sigh.

"He's a fucking idiot." she replied simply, furiously typing something into the phone. As soon as she sent the text, it buzzed again. Whoever the blonde woman was was clearly fast with her fingers.

"That- that doesn't answer literally anything." Victoria deadpanned, taking a step closer. When Amy flinched back, moving her phone towards the pocket of her hoodie, Victoria raised her hands. "Not taking your phone. Promise. Just… just tell me what's going on, Ames. Is Avalon your new boyfriend?"

Amy rolled her eyes, an annoyed frown appearing on her face. "God, Vicky, I already said no! He's just a friend."

"Yeah, 'just a friend' that just so happens to be the cape that whooped Hookwolf's ass, and is apparently de-arming some guy in a big ass suit of armor as we fucking speak," she shot back in a harsh, heated whisper.

"…"

The annoyance in Amy's frown melted down into something more fragile, and Victoria cursed herself in her own head. She wasn't angry or annoyed, of course. Who Amy decided to hang out with or crush on was completely and utterly her business, and Avalon was a certified fucking hero - any guy that took the fight to the nazis deserved that title in her honest, outspoken opinion.

She just felt… not betrayed, but left completely and utterly out the loop?

If Amy's crush had been some random nurse or a cute guy from Arcadia who sprained his ankle and ended up being her patient, she wouldn't have minded being left out of the loop for a while. Relationships took time to build up, and it was completely up to Amy to tell her when she was ready.

But Avalon wasn't just some random teenager. He had been her obsession for days, embarrassingly enough. Tall, dark, and handsome, with that majestic sorcerer vibe that reminded her of something straight from a fantasy book! After hearing about his fight with Hookwolf, doing some digging online, and then actually watching him in action on his PHO thread… well, she had started fantasizing about patrolling with him, fighting the Empire side-by-side.

If he was a 'sorcerer' by geeky fantasy terms, then wouldn't she be the 'paladin'? It was freaking perfect.

And then real life happened, twenty four hours passed, Dean apologized to her for whatever the hell they'd been fighting about over the past couple weeks, and she'd moved forward. It wasn't like Avalon was active on PHO, and her messages to the 'Avalon' account with the blank profile picture hadn't even been read.

Now, though? Knowing that her sister was friends with him, had his contact info, and - she was 99 percent sure - was sporting a puppy crush?

It… irked. Screw what she'd thought before - it wasn't anxiety she was feeling, it was jealousy. She was jealous, which was horrible because Amy was her precious little sister. Plus, she had a boyfriend she loved with all of her being. Dean was great! His voice was kinda reedy, and he wasn't very tall, and he didn't ditch patrols to go fuck up nazis with her… but he was nice! He was safe.

Victoria breathed out, slow and steady, and the minty scent of her bubblegum mouthwash cleared her tumultuous thoughts. Amy had a new, super cool friend, and she would support her no matter what! And if she became friends with him as well, and received a sparring and patrol partner out of it, then that was just icing on the cake, right?

It wasn't like she was the one with the crush.

"I'm sorry, Ames," Victoria apologized, genuine regret coating her words. "I kinda got thrown really off there, and blew my lid. I didn't mean to scream at you."

"…" Amy pocketed her phone, watching her with an unreadable expression on her face. After an uncomfortable second, she let a harsh breath out through her nostrils. "You didn't scream, dummy. And apology accepted. Can we just go get the cheesy fries, please? Jason- or, uh, Aval-… fuck, secret identity. Don't-"

"Lips sealed. Scout's Honor." Victoria promised, zipping her fingers across her smiling lips.

Amy sighed again. "Thanks. Anyways, he apparently pissed someone off near the Docks and had to, uh… 'show him who's boss'. The guy apparently doesn't have actual, flesh and blood extremities. No idea how that works, but…" she trailed off into a grumble, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets and kicking the polished linoleum floor.

Victoria shrugged helplessly. "Screw it, then. It looked like he had it all under control, what with the mechanical dismemberment." she commented casually, continuing their slow trek to the food court. "Who was the woman in the selfie, though? She kinda looked like some type of mechanic." The question was innocent enough, but Victoria couldn't keep herself from side-eyeing her little sister as she pondered how best to answer.

It wasn't until they were halfway across the food court and approaching Moriarty's kiosk that Amy answered. "… I think he called her his 'minion'." she said quietly, markedly not meeting Victoria's gaze.

Victoria blinked. "What? Like, she's the 'evil villain mastermind' kind of minion?"

"Vic, Avalon's a hero." Amy shot back matter-of-factly, like she was an idiot for even insinuating anything but.

"Yeah, okay, but-… they're not dating or anything, right?"

"Huh."

Victoria back-tracked immediately, stammering in her haste to defend herself. "N-no, listen! I'm just looking out for your best interests, Amy! Did you see the size of her tits?! I bet she has a super shapely butt, too. Beautiful women like her are usually the full package."

"Vicky! I- I'm not into girls, and I'm definitely not into her."

Minor panic quickly faded into amusement, and Victoria laughed out loud, slinging an arm over Amy's shoulders in an affectionate half-hug.

"Yeah riiiight. Two crushes in one, eh? You sure work fast, Amelia Dallon!"

"Oh, you can fuck right off."

Yep - today was going to be a good day after all!

The Trainyard, 4 PM

"Achoo!"

I sneezed viciously into my elbow, a groan escaping my mouth as I held back the urge to sniffle snot like a fucking baby. The bulky, oversized robot-hobo restrained beneath me growled and spat like a wild animal, squirming violently in a useless attempt to escape the heavy duty, magically-enhanced chains binding him down, but I merely applied more pressure to the back of his head, keeping his face pressed against the dirt.

"Fuck, someone must be talking 'bout me…"

Overdrive, who'd ignored my orders and ventured outside once the sound of asskicking died down, was busy typing away at my phone like a iPad baby. At my offhanded comment, she glanced over with a lazy, gleaming grin. "Was just tellin' ole' Mousy about our current activities, boss. She texted back instantly, by the way! Shame on you - leavin' such a cute girl on Read should be a criminal offense."

I blinked. That was probably why she had been taking selfies with our little scuffle in the background like the Trainyard was a Denny's parking lot. Should I have been concerned?

… Eh, not really. Amy wasn't the type to freak out over cape business like this. It wasn't like we were robbing an orphanage or something heinous like that. Beating the homeless and crippled was light work in comparison.

"I was gonna respond before this dickhead started beatin' on the door," I frowned, looking back down at the bound man.

"… Fuck you. Ma' name's Trainwreck, you shit-faced faggot! And that's ma' house! Who else can beat on the door 'cept for me?!"

He began bucking again, and I sighed. Deeply.

"Like I already said; we didn't know it was your crib, dumbass. How 'bout brokering for peace and negotiating instead of tryna punch me in my shit immediately? 'Cause now you're lying there, face against the dirty ass ground, with this 'faggot' sitting on your back. A fuckin' shame, right?"

…

The violent movement stopped, like all of the fight fled from his body at my brutally honest words, and Overdrive let out a low, pitying whistle as she pocketed my phone and crossed her arms over her chest. I tilted my head, looking down at the side of Trainwreck's acne-splattered face and pushing my Hidden Intuition forward a smidge. I felt… not bad, per se, but empathy for the butt-ugly man. He clearly had nowhere to go, so being defensive and territorial over the place - no matter how dirty it had been - he actually 'owned' was understandable.

Less understandable was trying to crush my skull immediately, but he was probably drunk and high on drugs. Those were the only excuses I was willing to give him, at least.

Trainwreck is tired. Trainwreck is tired of fighting. Trainwreck is tired of living-

Oh fuck, holy shit that was dark. Rewind that the fuck back.

Trainwreck is tired of living in squalor. Trainwreck is tired of his physical deformities. Trainwreck is tired of being weak and poor.

I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Depressed women with daddy issues I could handle in droves, but suicidal Case 53s were a completely different story that I had no experience with. And he was a Case 53 - I may not have recognized him from my perfect memory of trolling the Worm wikipedia and reading stories, but I could easily recognize the telltale physical disfigurement signs.

After shearing off his arms with my Armament and beating him down with 'em, I realized that he had little fleshy pseudopods wriggling from the pink, blob-like meat that I assumed was his main 'body'.

The dude was basically just a flesh-colored sperm cell with a big ass head. No wonder he was so fucking pissed.

"… If you gon' kill me," Trainwreck suddenly spoke, his guttural, lispy voice devoid of emotion. "Go 'head and do it, kid. Better someone wit' balls than another two-bit gangster wit' a gun. This shitty city's full of 'em. Can't just leave a fucker like me alone to waste away in peace."

Overdrive and I shared a glance, and I was surprised at the synchronized understanding that naturally sparked between us. It wasn't anything magical or telepathic - she just looked into my eyes, I looked into hers, and we both sorta knew what the other was thinking. Maybe it was the crooked smile on my lips, and the empathetic grimace on hers.

"Over-"

"Already on it, big guy."

I eased off of Trainwreck's dented back, and my minion jogged back into the shipping container. Not even a second later, she came out with a big ass pair of chain cutters gripped in her oil-stained hands.

Trainwreck twitched viciously at the sight, his dirt brown eyes widening in confusion.

Breathing in the remnants of excitement and adrenaline that fueled the Aqshy around me, I gripped the incredibly bulky suit of armor by the edge of its rugged collar, set my feet widespread, and yanked. My muscles tightened, tendons rippling as my enhanced strength was forced into overdrive, but my fervor and one-track determination was rewarded. With a grunt of exertion, Trainwreck's prone body was yanked back into a seated position, the crumbling stone beneath his metal ass turning to dust from the sudden weight.

I exhaled slowly, taking a step back and stuffing my stiffened hands back into the pockets of my coat. Clearly I had to hit up the gym or something. Who knew roughly two tons of bulky, welded-together steel was so fucking heavy?

"The fuck's goin' on now?" Trainwreck groused, attempting to crane his head back to glare at me. It was quickly shown to be ineffective, however, so he settled for glowering at Overdrive. "You gon' have yer' bitch do me in, kid? Ain't as ballsy as I thought you were."

The mechanic merely smirked at him, resting the chain cutters against her shoulder.

I stepped out from behind the iron giant, duly noting that he was almost as tall as Overdrive while sitting down on his ass. The sight could have been slightly demoralizing if not for the fact that I'd already beaten him, and quite thoroughly at that. Height and size didn't mean shit to magic.

"We're not killing you, dumbass. Just sit tight." I stated simply, dismissing the strands of Chamon entangling the chains with a tilt of my head. As the weight wrapping around his body decreased, Trainwreck grunted in satisfaction at the lack of pressure. "Go ahead, Overdrive."

Still smirking, the blonde-haired mechanic sashayed forward and pressed the chain cutters against the burnished steel links. Overdrive clearly knew what she was doing - she put her entire body weight into the top handle, the bottom one resting against the fleshy portion of her thigh.

SNAP.

The chains broke.

She did it a couple more times since I'd gone a little overboard with the bondage play, but before long Trainwreck was completely free. As I expected, he didn't do anything stupid like trying to headbutt Overdrive or leap to his feet in order to run away, which would have been almost impossible with his overwhelming bulk and the lack of balance he had without his oversized arms.

No, he seemed almost… thoughtful, oddly enough. He hadn't even glanced down at the bountiful cleavage in front of him once, which was easily the most surprising thing.

Even I didn't have that willpower.

"Alrighty!" Overdrive shouted, stepping away and tossing the chain cutters over her shoulder again. "One oversized piece of scrap as free as a bird as ordered, boss. We sure 'bout this?"

I snorted derisively. "We colonized homie's only place of residency. Of course I'm sure." Turning my attention back to the silently staring Trainwreck, I grabbed his discarded, ridiculously oversized 'arms' and tossed them onto his lap. They were heavy, but significantly lighter than his power armor.

He started at the impact, his brows furrowing down into a puzzled glare. "This 'sposed to be, what, mercy? No one doin' work in the Trainyard's that nice, kid. You can take yer bullshit and shove it back up yer ass."

I shrugged. "Consider it an apology, 'cause we need your place and we're gonna keep usin' it… at least until tomorrow. You can either pull yourself together and come inside - I cleaned your sheets, by the way - or you can fuck off until we leave. It's up to you."

"… Tch." Fleshy tendrils began snaking out of the holes on the side of his power armor, wrapping around tiny little handles in the hollow opening of the large arms. Slowly, the pseudopods began retracting, effortlessly pulling the heavy metal with them.

Was I strong-arming the guy? Sure. But, much like Sherrel, Trainwreck wasn't the type to just accept kindness and benevolence without a shit ton of hesitance and suspicion, and considering he tried to punch first and ask questions later, well… I wasn't in the most giving of moods.

It was at this point that the Grimoire dutifully tossed a relatively large mote of light my way, and I allowed its description to flow into my brain - and promptly tossed it away. Becoming an undead necromancer was not what I meant by 'new year, new me', and I was quite proud of my flesh and blood capabilities of being able to grow a boner.

No thanks, come back next time with something attractive, Grimmy.

"Our baby's almost ready for augmentations, by the way!" Overdrive said cheerily, sliding over to my side as I started making my way back to the shipping container. "ABB fucktards kept him in good shape, 'cept that shitty fuckin' paintjob. I'll need a lotta scrap to reinforce the frame, a weldin' tool, spools of copper wire, some heavy-duty batteries to act as an independent power source…" She switched the chain cutters to the other shoulder, handling the weight like a pro-

Wait.

" Our baby?" I snorted, a dry grin pulling at my lips. "Kinda scandalous, havin' a kid with your new boss. Think about the tabloids, Overdrive. My happy marriage…"

"…"

It was only after I stepped into the impromptu garage that I realized the mechanic was no longer by my side. I glanced back, my eyebrows raising in bemusement at the sight of her gripping the cutters with both hands, raising them 'threateningly' in my direction.

"Who are you and what'd ya do with Avalon?" she hissed, snipping the cutters in the air. "Boss man would say somethin' like 'Chill, Sherr - the only kid I'm havin' is with my girl. Stop bein' such a perv, woman'." Her voice turned deep and overtly velvety as she mocked the way I spoke, even hitting the slight Cajun accent with pinpoint accuracy, and my right eye twitched in annoyance.

"I'm not that bad," I scowled, turning back around and walking towards the pile of supplies we'd collected from the ABB warehouse. "And toss me my phone. A lotta the shit you need can probably be found around here, but I can go buy the copper wire in bulk."

"Maybe not that bad," she agreed reluctantly, walking inside and dropping the cutters to the floor. "But you've been ridin' my ass, in the unfun way, 'bout impeding on your beautiful relationship. What gives?"

I rolled my eyes, too busy stuffing my wallet with hundred dollar bills to turn around and give her a proper dressing down. "This really the time for that, Overdrive?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the P. "Never said I was any good at readin' the room, big man."

"Heh, ain't that the truth? Now toss me my phone."

"Hmph! Catch."

My ears twitched.

I reached over my shoulder, smoothly grabbing the tossed device out the air before it could go sailing past my head. I twisted on my heels as I stood, coating my clothing with a thin membrane of mana and seamlessly switching it out for one of my many new civilian outfits. In between crouching and standing, I went from Avalon, the Tarnished Hero, to…

Jason Black, a ridiculously hot, sunglasses-wearing African American teenager in casual clothes.

I pocketed both the wallet and the cellular device.

"I'll grab you a phone while I'm out," I offered casually, cracking my neck to the side with a groan. "Ahh, there we go… kink's been botherin' me for a minute."

"Thanks," Overdrive waved her hand dismissively, already making her way back to the jacked-up truck. "We'll be revisitin' this convo another time, then?" The question was asked as a question, but her tone of voice hinted that it was more of a 'statement' - that she'd be revisiting the conversation with me, whether I initiated it or not.

I didn't mind.

"I'll think about it."

Ignoring her snort, and the subsequent bang of metal against metal, I exited the shipping container and-

Paused at the sight of Trainwreck dragging a large wooden pallet stacked at least four feet high with scrap metal, ranging from sheets of corroded steel to broken-down appliances like toasters and microwaves. Smoke billowed into the air from his red-hot back exhaust pipes, bringing with it the scent of charcoal and burnt hair. The same chain Overdrive had snipped off of his body was wrapped tightly around his oversized gauntlet and hooked onto the front of the wooden pallet.

He paused as well, cracked and dirty lips pulling back to expose rotten teeth. I couldn't tell if he was sneering or smiling. "Saw the truck yer bitch was workin' on. Not bad. Could use a lil' bit of work, though, and I ain't one to…" Trainwreck trailed off, licking his chapped lips uncomfortably. "I don't like leavin' a man's work to women. You get me?"

Trainwreck is tired. Trainwreck is lonely. Trainwreck is hopeful.

I didn't need to dive any deeper; it was pretty obvious what was going on here. I really was a magnet for the homeless and disenfranchised.

"I get you. Lemme just say this, though - you so much as spit in her direction while I'm gone and I promise you won't like what I do when I get back."

His sneer grew into a disgusted grimace. "Not interested in yer snowbunny. Don't even got that kinda hardware."

I winced. "Fair enough." There was an awkward pause, and I scratched my chin. "You, er, want somethin' from the store, or-"

"Oil," he grunted, resuming his slow dragging of the metal-laden pallet. Sweat beaded at his weathered face, but he didn't seem too bothered. "Oil, wood glue, and… some o' that pizza you mentioned earlier. Extra pepperoni."

"Can do," I acquiesced with an amused smirk, stepping aside to let him work. "Better than askin' for pineapple. That definitely would've ruined our budding friendship. Worse than me kickin' your ass has, at least."

The chuckle Trainwreck let out sounded like boulders grinding against boulders, complete with a hacking cough that sounded absolutely diabolical.

"Even I ain't that fucked up, kid."

Spoiler: A/N

We get a little bit of insight into Amy and Victoria here, and we actually learn a little bit more about Trainwreck?

No accepted rolls this chapter, but that's fine. Rolling can't happen every chapter. The declined 500 CP perk was from Warhammer Fantasy, and it would have turned Jason into an undead necromancer - quite literally.

That is not something I'm interested in writing, lol. And I think that I've figured out how to combat amassing crazy amount of CP without collecting a shit ton of perks that won't see much use - after reaching 1200 CP, which I believe is the highest-costing perk in the Grimoire, Jason won't be able to collect anymore charges until he appeases the Grimoire and gets his charge down to at least ten percent of that. It's to encourage using the Grimoire's charges, but without forcing him to just grab whatever comes up and not explore the powers efficiently.

Next chapter will be finishing up the truck tinkering and tying up a couple loose ends, and then we'll be in for the mission! Question is: Will Jay be alright, walking around Downtown - even out of costume - with E88 tension so high? Hmmm…

Guess we'll see.

Chapter 28 is already up on for those who are impatient! 29 will be finished in the next couple days, so look out. The action really starts to pick up in that chapter so it may take a little longer to cook compared to these less action-packed chapters, so please be patient with ya boy.

Chapter 32

Walmart, Downtown Brockton Bay

I stroked my chin thoughtfully, staring down at the small shopping list Cassie had sent me after I'd texted her that I was hitting up God's gift to mankind - Walmart - for some tinkering supplies. As always, most of the things she wanted me to pick up made sense for a software tinker, but what the hell did shit like memory cartridges and micro USB drives have in common with…

'Three king-sized boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?'

I crinkled my nose. What a fucking sugar addict.

"Wait, Mads - there he is! Told you I saw a freaking supermodel. Step back before he sees us!"

The quiet din of hushed, whispering voices coming from the corner of the Electrical Appliances aisle immediately stole my attention away from my phone. I paused, thumb still resting against the screen, and focused on my hearing.

"Oh my God, who is that? He's, like, so fucking fine!"

"I don't know… he's probably a super popular actor or something? I don't really watch a lotta movies but I think I recognize him…"

"Ooh, get a pic and send it to the group chat so we can ask Emma if she knows who he is! Just please turn the freaking flash off."

"Relax, Madison! It should be off already… -"

CLICK. FLASH.

"Fuck, Lauren!"

I was already turning towards the gossiping, starstruck teenagers even before the flash went off, my phone tucked safely back in my pocket.

My sunglasses protected me from the vast majority of the dazzling light, so other than a slight squint I was free to power straight through the discomfort and toss up both a roguish grin and a peace sign. The reward, of course, was the hilarious sight of both girls somehow managing to both turn ashen and red in embarrassment - cringe was always funny when you weren't the source of it, after all.

Before they could make a hasty retreat, as most people did when their weirdness was straight-up exposed, I dropped the multi-pack of thumb drives into my overcrowded shopping cart, leaned down against the plastic handle, and began pushing my way over to them.

The teenage girl with the short hair tied back by blue hairpins was easy to identify once I accounted for the context of her mentioning an 'Emma' to her chubbier friend. There were probably many 'Emmas' in the city, sure, but how many Emmas were referenced by a cute, petite brunette conveniently named 'Madison'?

Spoiler alert; probably not a lot.

For whatever reason, she was also clutching a body pillow nearly as long as she was tall.

Their eyes widened in horror as I approached them, like deer frozen in the headlights of a big ass car. The chubby girl was still holding her phone up towards me, apparently frozen with indecision and shock - I leaned over my cart and gently lowered the camera down to point toward the linoleum floor, and she nearly choked on her saliva.

"Takin' pictures of strangers without their consent ain't very polite, ladies. Some people'd call that straight-up creepy."

My crooked grin widened in amusement, and it was at that moment that Madison's mouth dropped open in very real, very naked recognition. I only had a brief moment to read the emotions on her face before she started yapping, and what I picked up on wasn't very promising.

Madison is awestruck. Madison is excited. Madison is nervous. Madison is awestruck because she knows that you're Avalon. Madison knows that you're Avalon because she pleasured herself to zoomed-in screenshots of your face and body from PHO-

I squeezed Hidden Intuition's lips closed. Too much fucking information.

"Oh. My. Fucking. God! I knew it! You're- you're- oh crap, can I even say it without, like, breaking the, um, unwritten rules?" The young girl's high-pitched voice lowered into a conspiratorial hiss, and she and her friend shared a half-excited, half-frightened glance.

I rolled my eyes from behind my shades. At this point, I was better off just unmasking as Avalon and standing on business at a public and open level. It wasn't like I necessarily gave a shit if people knew who I was, and it was apparently pretty obvious if you spent a longer time than average staring at my photos.

"Um… hi. I'm L-Lauren! C-c-can I get a p-"

"She wants to know if we," Madison cut in bullishly with a dimpled, sugary sweet smile, "Can get a picture. Um, with you. Sir. If you don't mind.."

…

" Pweaaaaase?"

And now she was hitting me with the puppy dog eyes, trembling bottom lip and fluttering eyelashes included.

Honestly, if I hadn't been aware of just how shitty and toxic of a piece of human refuse she was, I probably would've been swayed to take a selfie with 'em. Madison was objectively attractive in a 'girl next door' sorta way - the type of fast chick you'd bounce on your dick like a pogo if you were horny and there weren't any actual bombshells around.

Unfortunately for her, the whole 'disgustingly adorable but secretly bitchy' two-faced shtick she had going on killed any and all appeal. I didn't care much about Taylor Hebert - evident by the way that I haven't even bothered stopping by Winslow to sweep her bony ass off her feet - but I actively disliked cowards and bullies.

Madison was both of those, and unlike Sophia Hess, she didn't even have the audacity to back it up with some form of moxie.

At least that bitch shot Nazis with crossbows.

"If that's not crossing your lil' 'unwritten rules' line, then I don't know what is," I responded dryly. "Just wanted to warn you about taking sneaky shots of random dudes in Walmart. It's prolly not illegal, this being a public place and everything, but you know how people can get…"

The difference between Madison's and Lauren's reactions was like night and day.

Lauren's already pale face turned virtually gray with shame, and she held up her smartphone like some sort of shield. I could read it in her eyes like text in a book; the girl was just another follower, weak-willed and subservient to a fault. "Oh god, I'm so fucking sorry. I knew it was weird, I just - I-I'll delete the picture, mister!"

"Wait, no - Lauren, shut up! I told you to turn the freaking flash off you dumbass." Madison scowled angrily, pushing past the larger girl to step closer to me. I raised a sharp curved eyebrow, lips drawing down into a stoic frown, and she stopped cold in her tracks.

Funnily enough, she did so with a massive blush and a simpering, warbly smile.

"Holy shit you're, like, so much freaking hotter in person," the brunette breathed, tilting her head downwards but staring up at me with her wide blue eyes. It was an obvious attempt to look both seductive and 'cute', but all it really did was bring more attention to her above-average-sized forehead. " Please, I promise we won't tell anyone! I just… I just really want a selfie of you. O-or, with you - whichever you have time for! I-It doesn't even have to be an Avalon thing." Madison whispered my cape alias like it was the world's most important secret, and I snorted.

Although a bitch she absolutely was, the stubbornness was kinda cu-

Madison is starstruck. Madison is excited. Madison is excited to get a selfie of you. Madison is excited to get a selfie of you because she plans to pleasure herself to it. Madison has a body pillow for a perverse reason. Madison wants to pin-

My little smile turned wry.

Fuck that, but maybe I could use her hormonal-fueled obsession to alley-oop assist a certain four-eyed victim. What were the odds that Madison's phone held damaging and incorrigible evidence of her bullying campaign against one Taylor Hebert?

"Fuck it then," I snarked, forcing a bit of dark amusement into my face. The girls flinched at my 'vulgarity', Madison's breath visually and audibly coming out in noticeable pants, and I inwardly cringed. "Lemme see your phone, Miss…"

"Laure-"

"Madison! Madison Clements! Oh my fricking god this is so fucking cool!"

She pressed forward, dropping her body pillow purchase and practically batista bombing her phone into my hands.

"M-Mads, that's rude. I wanna get a pic too…"

"UGH, shut up Lauren! I came here with you because I was fucking bored, Soph and Emma are busy, and you make me look better in comparison. Not because we're friends. You're so fucking lame."

"…"

Sniffle.

Yikes. Teenage drama.

As I scrolled through her phone, momentarily ignoring the camera application in favor of memorizing a plethora of email addresses, contact information, and social media account details that any hacker worth their salt could crack, I realized with actual, genuine pleasure…

'The odds are really fuckin' high. Dumb bitch.'

Who said I couldn't be a nazi killer and a concerned, well-meaning civilian?

I left the sniffling Lauren and the beaming Madison with a skip in my step, right after dodging the petite girl's 'smooth' attempt at a cheek kiss.

Madison is overjoyed. Madison is ecstatic. Madison believes she's in love.

'Euuugh… what a weird fucking broad.'

Still, that was my good deed for the day. With that little interaction out of the way, there was no way in Hell I'd run into anyone else in an average Walmart, right? Certainly no one who'd recognize me on sight like both Amy and Madison managed to do.

I about had it with the surprises for today.

Victor didn't consider himself an 'arrogant' individual.

Well, that wasn't true. He was a little arrogant, and self-aware enough to recognize it, but how could he not be when the world itself saw fit to crown him, perpetually and forevermore, in success and victory?

It was even in his cape name - Victor. A winner. William, the man before Victor, was no loser, but he much preferred being recognized as the former.

For the most part, his entire life was all one long, high-definition 'win' compilation, and even the 'shitty' parts ended up performing a 180-degree turn into fortune. A man blessed with features that could only be described as pure royalty, what with the well-defined jawline, the cleft, action star chin, the short and tidy blonde hair - dyed to an almost platinum sheen - and deep blue eyes that sparkled like the very ocean itself. If you added in the fact that he'd mastered countless skills over the past few years, drained and cultivated an endless amount of talent that took other men decades to master, then wasn't he the picture perfect representation of white superiority?

Was he not what others of his race should strive to aim towards? A prime example of the inherent talent, intellect, and strength of the Aryan race?

'Then why,' he mentally griped, pushing the jam-packed shopping cart down the quiet, moderately chilly 'frozen meats' aisle. 'Am I reduced to being a fucking pack mule? Get married, Victor - join the family, join the Empire even! And now we've got some lucky nigger Trump acting all uppity, making us look weak. Tch… '

The bare, slim, and sashaying hips - delightfully pale and creamy - pulled him from his inner grumbling, and for a brief second Victor was hypnotized by Vanessa's calm, graceful gait. Young though she was, being a fresh seventeen in comparison to his more experienced and wise twenty one, his wife was certifiably pleasing and lovely in her own way. She was quiet when she needed to be quiet, loving when he needed her soft words, and an absolute tigress in the sheets - once he took care of that pesky virgin shyness.

Being the one toting the bulk of the groceries wasn't so bad when he took in every other positive aspect of a married life. Vanessa, or Othala in more elite circles, was his to own, cherish, and protect. She was his proudest trophy, and though he could not find the same overbearing love he once held for his former beau, Vanessa also had his heart.

She turned then, a small, gentle smile on her face, and Victor felt his heart constrict in his chest. The things he would do to protect and safeguard her little moments of joy.

"I think this is everything we needed to grab as far as grocery shopping is concerned," Vanessa said quietly, slowing down just enough to fall back and match pace beside him. "I was getting tired of ordering out, so I'm happy we could get some actual food."

She was using her inside inside voice, he noticed - meaning that she was hedging around discussing something private and/or confidential. Victor lowered his voice to match, deep blue eyes regarding the cool expression on her face with veiled curiosity.

"A lot of meat," he commented idly, tilting his head towards the assortment of expensive steaks, chicken, and packages of ground meat. "Are we planning a party or something? A celebration?"

It was a light line, but Vanessa gobbled at the hook like she always did. Though she played at a veneer of composure and grace, she wore her emotions too plainly.

"Brad," she nodded, a light brightening her face. "Some of the other girls and I thought we'd put together a barbecue or something once you guys… help him out. Keep up morale in the, uh, office. It was mainly my idea, I guess, but…"

Right. Brad, or the currently imprisoned and shackled 'Hookwolf' - a man that their little husband-wife family considered a 'friend', but someone who'd recently and quickly became a liability once he got absolutely demolished and embarrassed by a brand new hero. Not just any new hero, either, but some jigaboo bastard with multiple powers to his name. They'd all seen the footage, too, considering it had practically been blasted across PHO for the world to witness. Enhanced agility and strength, golden energy spears oddly reminiscent of Crusader's, that massive cage that so effortlessly caged and girdled Hookwolf, the fucking lasers, and the metal-degrading Shaker effect that almost had Kaiser calling for his capture immediately.

He was overtuned. Too overtuned for a simple grab-bag. And, more importantly, he was an overtuned black Trump with a bone to pick against the Empire, like all of his ignorant and ill-informed ilk.

The rat bastard was lucky he managed to slip beneath the cracks in the days following the Mall battle. The Empire was too busy making preparations in anticipation of breaking Hookwolf out of containment, and Kaiser was focusing all of their resources and attention on the transport. The Birdcage was on the table once again, and losing one of their strongest capes would spell Hell for the Empire.

It was part of the reason why he was assigned to be on Krieg's strike team tomorrow night. Kaiser got the itinerary for the transport caravan days ago, and had a full plan ready not long after.

Victor simply needed to be set up and ready with sniper rifle in hand.

He let a puff of air expel from his nostrils.

"Is that too much?" Vanessa hedged, a nervous lilt to her voice. "I just thought it would be a good idea, considering the atmosphere right now. It's foreboding, like Brad's already lost forever. He's been in… trouble before."

Probably because a black Trump with an unknown amount of firepower was setting his sights on the Empire. Something like that, which hadn't happened in a long time by the way, would probably set tensions a little high.

Victor didn't say this, though - sarcasm was for the imbeciles and the slow, not his wife.

"It's not a bad idea, dear. We'll make it a thing, see if we can get the boss to invite some of the uppercrust from the Family. Show off a bit of our success here on the East Coast." Came his soft, smooth reply - always on time, always with just the right amount of inflection, because he could never do anything worse than the best.

The smile she sent his way was angelic.

"Thank you. I can't wait to see what Tam-"

"'Scuse me," A deep, velvety, and distinctly niggerish voice suddenly spoke up right behind his ear.

It was only due to a couple decade's worth of selective desensitization techniques, borrowed permanently from the hapless police officers, that kept Victor from yelping or jumping from surprise.

It didn't, of course, stop his wife.

"Huh?!" Vanessa jumped like a ghost had just breathed against the back of her neck, her already pale face turning almost stark white in color.

"Woah - my bad! Didn't mean to jump scare you two-"

Victor turned almost as fast as she'd reacted, letting go of the shopping cart in favor of keeping his hands free and accessible. He didn't have any weapons on him - his knives and pistol was back in the car - but if things even came down to a fight, he doubted he would need anything like that for some stupid, nosy thug.

"It's fine, you just snuck up on us. What do you-" Blue eyes blinked, meeting circular, reflective black lenses. "… Want?"

Victor's jaw twitched. He wasn't an envious man - never had been, never would be, because why be envious when he could simply take anything he didn't have? Even still, the ugly feeling worming its way through his stomach couldn't be anything but. 'What the hell?'

Tall, dignified, princely - if Victor thought he looked like a prince, this nigger might as well be the fucking monkey king! His skin almost seemed to glow with melanated health, perfectly white teeth pulled back in a smile that looked too perfect, and… did he even have any pores or acne? His appearance wasn't dipping into 'uncanny' valley, but he was almost definitely a cape of some kind. Either that, or he held himself to ridiculously ludicrous beauty standards that no normal human upheld.

Victor didn't even like tattoos other than a very strict few symbols, chaotic messes that they were, but the compacted black swirls and floral patterns on his arms just seemed to… work.

Even Vanessa was staring with a slightly opened mouth, and that snapped Victor out of it. Immediately, aggression and contempt flooded his veins, pushing away any amazement that had snuck in. Majestic animals were still animals at the end of the day, and he'd never been one for common trips to the zoo.

The man tilted his head, having been studying Victor the same way Victor had been studying him, and the gleaming smile on his face took on a more amused edge.

For some reason, the sight reminded him of something. It just wasn't clicking in his brain.

"Nothin' much, homie. Saw you two buying up all the good meat, figured I'd come grab an invite to the cookout." The nigger replied with a deep, masculine chuckle, looking at Vanessa and giving her a jaunty little half-wave. "Name's Jamal, by the way. Nice to meet ya'll."

She hesitantly waved back, inching closer to Victor. The reaffirmation of their dynamic - him, the protector, and her the loyal wife - was gratifying, especially in the face of… whatever this was.

The smile he gave the stranger was a cold one, handsome and warm in all the right ways to fool an unsuspecting mark, but it lacked any true kindness. "Sorry pal, but we're fresh out of invitations. Family and friends only, you understand? Homies don't really make the cut, and I don't want to stir the pot too much."

"Damn," 'Jamal' clicked his tongue and placed his hands on his hips, his smile faltering the slightest bit. "I'm new to Brockton Bay. Was hopin' to meet some new peeps around my age, maybe crack a couple cold ones and eat some good steak. It's cool, though; I get it. Trust is hard to come by and shit, right?"

What an annoying fucker, but he was being open and honest - Victor had long since gotten familiar with most tell-tale signs of deceit, and Jamal wasn't showing any of them. He was just that naive, and didn't know the dangers of attempting to befriend a blonde-haired, white-skinned couple Downtown. Yet.

Victor was curious about what skills he possessed, because intuition wasn't one of them.

He went to nudge Vanessa forward a tad since his hand was already resting protectively against her slim slip of a waist, but the woman was quick to catch on. The uncomfortable and hesitant smile was still marring her face, but she seemed… intrigued. It was in the furrow of her brow and the wrinkle in her forehead.

She was thinking. Hard.

Probably about the same things that he was, then. 'What kind of fool is this?'

Victor took a step closer, behind Vanessa, and began feeling for the intoxicating nuggets of warmth and heat in the nigger's body - the warmest ones were often the most developed, and he wanted to rob him of his best features, leave him bumbling and retarded.

"The city's been pretty shaken up recently, and keeping to those you know you can trust is smart these days. How new to the city are you?" Vanessa's curiosity was well-crafted, like a normal, mild-mannered citizen continuing a conversation. It almost fooled Victor.

"Got here like a couple months ago. My adorable girlfriend wanted to come to the Bay for university, so I said 'fuck it, let's go to one of the most gang-infested cities on the East Coast'! Dealin' with that bullshit's prolly easier than enduring my girl bein' pissed at me, y'know?"

"… Heh, I guess so. A woman scorned is a scary person to share a room with. You're a smart but stupid man, Jamal." Her head tilted to the side, her arms coming down to wrap lightly around her own stomach, but Victor couldn't even read into her shifting body language - he was too busy squashing down both surprise and paranoia.

His fucking powers weren't working.

Jamal's smile turned sheepish, and he scratched his chin. "Shit, don't I know it. The city hasn't been too bad so far. The Boardwalk's nice, and Fugly Bob's a fucking national treasure. I prolly gained ten pounds just eatin' their greasy ass curly fries. Extra salt, make 'em crispy."

The genuine giggle - a bubbling brook of fresh and joyful laughter - ripped Victor away from his concentrated consternation. He frowned, chest tightening uncomfortably at the sight of Vanessa covering her mouth and smiling at a fucking nigger. Not just any nigger at that, but one with some sort of power that made his skills and talents undrainable. He was a fucking cape.

Vanessa seemed to become aware of her own enjoyment at the same time as him, a disturbed sneer peeling back her lips as she stepped away and brought her arms up to cross over her chest.

"A-ahem. Right. Well, good luck with that-"

"We're going." Victor interrupted, turning on his heel to grab hold of their shopping cart. As an afterthought, he added over his shoulder, "Before the meat defrosts while we're just loitering around. Be seeing you, 'Jamal'."

"… 'Ight, peace out."

Without another glance back, Victor briskly made his way towards the front of the supercenter.

He'd tried to keep up a veneer of genuinity, abstractly recognizing that the slightly taller man was possibly looking for friends - cape or not, he had been telling the truth as far as Victor could sense. That was fine; some niggers simply didn't recognize their betters, and that was as much of a cultural issue as it was a lack of intelligence one, but certain plans were much too sensitive to risk contact with unknown parahumans.

Who knew what other colored capes Avalon was in contact with.

'Right, Avalon. That's who he reminded me of!' Victor's eye twitched, and he glanced behind him with narrowed eyes.

Other than normal shopping customers pushing carts to and fro, there was no 'Jamal'. He gritted his teeth, paranoia picking at the edges of his thoughts.

"What's wrong, William? Did something upset you?" Vanessa's soft, concerned voice murmured from his right side, and Victor felt his frustration grow. That annoying knot of jealousy - an emotion he absolutely abhorred feeling - had already dissipated, but her acting like she hadn't just been eye-fucking that… that…

Guy? It was a guy, right? A man. Vanessa wasn't a god damned dyke.

"That… guy we were talking to before. He was a man, right? I'm not misremembering things."

There was a moment of quiet, interrupted by the ambient clutter of inane talking from wandering civilians, and Victor guided them towards the back of the long line of people waiting to use the self-service checkout machine. Something in his head was pounding and pumping, feeling him with a sense of anxiety that melded and combined with his burgeoning paranoia. Something wasn't right…

"Sweetheart," Vanessa finally said, her soft hand sliding over his ashen knuckles. Victor hadn't even realized that he'd been gripping the cart so tightly, and he relaxed his fist. "I think they were a guy? I'm not sure. I was kind of distracted, thinking about everything going on to be honest. Sorry." She smiled, embarrassed at her forgetfulness, and Victor sighed.

Maybe he was overreacting? Now that he thought about it, hadn't it just been a guy asking them about the amount of food in their cart? Just some random guy?

"It's fine. Stress must be eating me up," he exhaled, running a hand through his short blonde hair. "That isn't me. Getting sloppy before work is the last thing I need right now. The last thing we need."

"Everything's going to be okay. Even if I'm not there, you'll have Tams there to raise Hell." Vanessa nudged him with her hip, her gentle smile widening. "No stressing about work outside of the office."

The woman ahead of them shifted up in line, and Victor lazily pushed the cart after her. "Fine," he agreed with a smirk, Vanessa's optimism chasing away the clouds. He shoved his hand into his pocket. "Let me just check my messages, make sure that there hasn't been any changes…"

…

Something didn't feel right.

Victor paused, and slowly took out his 'phone'.

"Dear?" Vanessa asked cautiously, watching as his face began to rapidly pale.

His hand clenched around the small, portable black battery pack, the knuckles popping one by one like macadamia nuts.

"Vanessa," Victor said quietly, coldly, his eyes darkening with anger. He did his utmost to keep himself composed and calm. "… Have you seen my phone?"

(5:55 PM) Avalon: Lmao just curved this weirdo fangirl. Got some spicy shit for you tho, will tell you tonight.

(5:56 PM) Iris: serves her right hehe. and sounds gud / will i get something else tonight sir

(5:59 pm) Avalon: It'll be the final nut before I become wanted for nazi manslaughter. Hell yes.

(5:59 PM) Iris: stop replying so fking late meanie

(5:59 PM) Iris: a-and good! im kinda already a crimminal sooo

(5:59 PM) Iris: bonnie and clyde?!

(5:59 PM) Iris: babe….?

(6:00 PM) Iris: (_)

(6:04 PM) Avalon: What can you do with Victor's phone if I bring it back to you?

(6:04 PM) Iris: h-h-huuuuuuh?!?1 E88 Victor????

(6:04 PM) Iris: ALOT??? But arent u in walmart???

(6:04 PM) Iris: HELLO

(6:05 PM) Avalon: I'm going in.

(6:06 PM) Iris: literally going to kill you

(6:15PM) Avalon: Got it. Btw stuttering in text is wild lmao.

As I dipped out the emergency side exit of Walmart, once more cloaked in the hazy, smoky gray fogs of Ulgu, I slid my cell phone back into the pockets of my jeans. Not even a second later, it began to vibrate violently - clearly my spontaneous decision to pickpocket the skill vampire was a highly contested one. To be fair, it wasn't as if I had been looking to interact with Victor and Othala right after the Madison situation, anyway. It was one of those things where opportunity glinted beneath the sunlight, hidden amongst the shit, and you took it before it could disappear forever.

I only recognized the couple due to Othala's eyepatch, anyway. A teenage girl with short blonde hair and an eyepatch, walking super close to a buff, arrogant-looking blonde man with blue eyes? I had almost felt offended at myself that Hidden Intuition needed to pipe in in order to confirm my suspicions. They were the Empire's second most powerful 'power couple', alright - the first arguably being Night and Fog.

Fortunately, things had gone as smoothly as possible. They hadn't been outwardly racist and belligerent, but I knew that they were going to keep their nazi boners in their pants the second Victor looked at me and did that awkward ass white person smile where they fold their lips inwards. Instead of getting called a 'nigger' to my face, I was privy to him doing it in the safety of his own mind - condescension and clear disdain had been his only external weapons amongst a sea of Walmart shoppers that he couldn't expose himself in front of.

Othala had been… interesting. There had been awkwardness and uncomfortableness, for sure, but apparently my new looks and Force of Spirit combined was enough to slightly melt the racial ice between me and the nazi chick. At the very least, her pretending to be tolerant of my negro-ness was easier to do with my charizzma. Things hadn't been completely friendly, of course, but I'd made her giggle, and you know what they say about that:

If you can make a girl laugh and giggle, you can make those cheeks clap and jiggle!

Not that I was into Victor's wife. Bit too 'chicken-bone Joan' for me.

The best thing about being a wizard was just what you could accomplish with a little bit of preparation and quick thinking. Arcane handled the potential ramifications of them remembering me after our little interaction, so I had simply coated myself in the Elemental Wind of Darkness throughout the conversation. On the spot, I utilized a combo of casting Cloak Activity to apply an illusion of me standing there, confused at their abrupt leaving, whilst, in reality, I walked right up to Victor's face, flipped him off, used my Grimoire-graced sleight of hand skills to replace his phone with a battery pack I'd taken out of the plastic, and then return to the spot my illusion was standing in.

I had to do it all in a scant few seconds, too. I didn't even know I had fucking skill like that.

Afterwards, I simply had to retrace my steps back to my cart, buy everything on the opposite side of the store since Victor was more than smart enough to realize his phone was missing pretty quickly, and leave before my luck ran the fuck out and I got in over my head.

And, to make matters even better, the Grimoire ended up giving me a pretty fucking sweet ability in the midst of all that.

Spoiler: Soar (Touhou Project: Parasol Paradise - 100 CP)

In Gensokyo, the ability to levitate and fly are very common, and is crucial to Danmaku battles. With some practice, you can learn to travel just as fast around sharp bends and even backwards as you can dead ahead.

I didn't know what the fuck a Gensokyo was, but who the hell refused the ability to straight up fly?

Weirdos, that's who.

I familiarized myself with the sensation of levitating as I hovered a few inches off of the ground, idly pushing my shopping cart ahead of me with a weak, consistent flex of raw Aethyr. The day was quickly descending into evening time, so there were a fair amount of cars littering the Walmart parking lot, but thankfully my magic kept mundane attention away from me - both from Arcane and the Take no Heed spell I layered on top of myself mere minutes earlier. It wouldn't stop those with extremely stubborn wills and high perceptive capabilities from pushing through the magical effect and approaching me, but the average Brocktonite definitely did not match that description.

I still had chores I needed to do - the pizza with extra pepperoni was calling my name, and I needed to drop Victor's phone off to Cass so that she could scrape it for juicy Empire intel - but rushing would only make me sloppy. I'd bought a few things for myself to test my Infusions out on, one of which was a fairly expensive black leather satchel that I was hoping to turn into some kinda Bag of Holding, and if it actually worked then getting everything back and forth would be a lot less annoying.

I parked the crowded shopping cart near some dirty-looking SUV. A quick glance inside revealed an old woman with thin, graying hair knocked the fuck out in the passenger seat. If not for the fact that I could hear the AC running and see her chest moving up and down, I would've thought the old biddy was dead.

'Least I don't gotta break the window open to cool her off,' I mentally snorted, hovering over to the front of the shopping cart and pulling the small leather satchel out of its plastic bag. It was… weird, walking without actually walking - because that was what hovering was once you got right down to it. Flying was probably the exact same thing - just willing your body to move, as if you were moving on your own two feet, and your magic simply made it do so. Considering my natural agility and balance, I already felt like a master… floater.

Something told me that high-speed flight would probably be a bit harder to pull off.

"Okay, let's see…"

Holding the satchel with both hands, I narrowed my eyes at the mundane item and injected it with my magic. Filling the bag to the brim barely even skimmed the surface level of the roaring waterfall that was my mana core, and I quickly condensed the magic down into what I was starting to call the 'essence' of the item - the metaphorical 'core' of whatever I was attempting to Infuse. Depending on the craftsmanship of the item, the essence varied in quality and strength. The closest I got to visualizing it all was like the 'rarity' of loot in an RPG, and Hidden Intuition absolutely ran with that idea.

Above the bag, visual only to me due to Hidden Intuition, fancy, golden words formed.

Satchel of Holding (Uncommon)

Infusion: This uncommon magical satchel has been Infused with spatial-warping magic, allowing it to carry roughly 300 pounds by connecting its contents to an extradimensional space. Once carrying capacity is reached, this satchel will expel any additional items. The inside of this satchel is larger than the outside, extending four feet deep and two feet across.

I blinked, and the words faded away.

"… This is fuckin' sick."

It was 'uncommon', which basically meant that it was only slightly better than trash-tier, but any bag of holding was better than no bag of holding! I couldn't keep the broad grin off of my face as I unbuttoned the satchel, flipped it open, and shoved my hand inside.

"Holy-"

My arm sunk in to the peak of the shoulder, surrounded by nothing but a cool, leathery void.

"Shit."

I slowly withdrew my arm, eyeing my goosebump-marked skin with slightly widened eyes. Even after tossing around enough firepower to demolish entire squads of soldiers, fighting a metal wolf man taller than ten fucking feet, and transforming into an actual, honest-to-God quetzalcoatl, I still found myself amazed by even the simpler examples of magic. Mere weeks ago, I was spending hella gold in my monthly D sessions to get a normal Bag of Holding.

Now, in this world… I fucking made them. I was a motherfucking wizard!

BRRR-ING!

BRRR-ING!

Victor's phone suddenly began ringing.

I froze, one hand on the satchel and the other moving to start shoveling my purchases inside. Dropping the bag, I slowly withdrew the nazi's phone out of my pocket, glancing at the screen with narrowed eyes.

Vanessa is calling.

Othala still has her phone. Victor would ask her to call his phone in order to find it. Vanessa is Othala.

I tossed the phone inside the satchel. Unlike with normal bags, the sound of the ringing ceased immediately - the perks of shunting modern technology into an extradimensional storage closet. I was fairly certain that tracing the phone was similarly fucked to shit since it was no longer on Earth Bet.

'Right,' I frowned, moving over to the side of the cart to start dropping my other purchases into the satchel. 'Time to get the fuck outta dodge. If they're trackin' each other's GPS locations, then they know I'm here.'

Everything went into the satchel perfectly, even the big ass truck batteries I'd gotten from the automotive section of the Walmart. Within moments I was finished storing everything inside, and after securing the satchel's strap over my right shoulder and letting the bag rest against my left hip, I turned to leave.

"I can see what you're doing there, young man,"

Two blondes, the man tall and muscular and the woman short and skinny, were sprinting out of the front entrance of the Walmart. A car honked its horn loudly as the taller figure dashed in its way, completely ignoring the pedestrian lane, and the woman followed right after at a much more clipped pace. They were heading in my direction, but the old woman's SUV shielded me from view.

Victor and Othala.

A mote of light in my soul blinked, a gilded mirror appearing in my hand, and I stared into the reflective glass.

Funnily enough, a shit-eating grin was tearing itself across my handsome visage.

A second later, I disappeared with a 'pop'.

An hour later…

The Trainyard, Trainwreck's Crib

KNOCK.

"Yooo, who ordered the extra large pie with triple the pepperoni? Gotta get this shit when it's hot and fresh."

Idly, I declined the Grimoire's offer of 'magical war hawks'.

There was the sound of hushed voices and heavy footsteps before the metal roll up door slowly began raising. I stood there, hands in my pockets and a small, smug little smile on my face as Trainwreck straightened from where he'd bent low to open up the shipping container. He looked… not horrible. The bruises I'd given him didn't look as ripe, but nothing could really fix the overall ugliness of his face.

He scanned me up and down, naked confusion clear in his beady, pig-like eyes.

"Where the fuck's the pizza?"

"I respect the priorities, homie, but be patient." I snorted, ducking down and teleporting beneath his ridiculously bulky arms.

I came out of the flash of magic with my hands already reaching into my satchel. The spatial magic worked in a very convenient fashion, I found out after bringing Cassie (and Pod) their loot. As long as I visualized what I wanted to take out as I reached in, much like the way that my outfit hammerspace worked, the satchel would simply place said item into my hands. Quick, easy, and the ease-of-access makes it possible to utilize during high stress scenarios.

Like taming a hungry jackal known as 'Sherrel'.

The oil-stained mechanic had been in the middle of welding large, unwieldy-looking metal exhaust pipes on top of the F-150 when I made my entrance. As soon as she saw me, she did a double take, tossed the welding gun to the side, and pressed her hands against the edge of the truck as if she was getting ready to leap off the roof.

"Hah, look who finally decided to come crawlin' back to the cool kids table! Catch-"

In a blur of movement, I had the hot, steaming box of Domino's pizza out and extended like a landing pad.

"You jump off that truck, Sherr, and you can say goodbye to the pizza. I don't think it's gonna survive Death by Snu Snu."

She froze, her eyebrows narrowing above her welding goggles. "… You got drinks, too? And a freakin' phone?"

Still watching her, I dropped the pizza box - which continued to float under the power of my magic - and slowly retrieved a bottle of Dr. Pepper and her new phone, upgraded by Cassie, from my satchel. "Shit's got hella data, too. 5G, baby."

Sherrel clicked her tongue. "Damn! Alright, you win this time. And that's fuckin' bullshit, y'know. How the hell did you disappear for a couple hours and come back with Tinkertech?!" She jabbed a finger at the magical satchel on my hip, a blend of envy and curiosity drawing her lips down into a pout.

"I guess I'm just a different breed. You know how it is." I said flippantly, a smirk forming on my lips.

"I actually don't know, ya fuckin' tight-lipped dickhead! That's the problem. But, heh… thanks for the dinner."

"Mhm." Moving multiple things with pure Aethyr manipulation was difficult, but stressing my control with repeated use only improved my technique. I floated the phone and the condensation-covered bottle of caffeine up to Sherrel, even as I pulled a Sprite and a Coke out of my satchel for me and Trainwreck. The large box of pizza continued floating in mid-air, rotating lazily on an axis.

Trainwreck, having closed the door shut behind me, made a clumsy grab for the steaming box. I stopped him with a glare.

"Fuck's yer' problem?" he grumbled, an annoyed scowl forming on his cracked lips.

"You're not touching shit 'cause your hands prolly got actual shit on 'em. Fingers off the food 'till your hands are clean." I glanced over to Sherrel, who was trying to stealthily lower herself down from the roof of the truck. She stiffened, hanging limply with her back facing towards us like a fucking sloth, and Trainwreck huffed out a gross sounding chuckle. "You too, Sherrel. I'm not tryna eat oil and rust-sprinkled pepperoni pizza. That's fuckin' gross."

She dropped to her feet and turned to wave her hands impatiently. "Fine, do your golden shower bullshit and make us all fresh and pretty, boss! Mama needs her brain food."

Trainwreck stared. Hard. "… Yer not pissin' on me, kid."

I rolled my eyes. "You ain't cute enough for that kinda treatment, homie."

I set our bottles of soda on the floor and touched both of them in turn, muttering the incantation for Cleansing Glow underneath my breath. In a warm, tingly glow of golden light, Hysh washed away all of the day's dirt and grime, leaving my minion and new acquaintance looking like they'd just gotten out of a five-star spa treatment. Sherrel had already been fairly clean - oil and dirt had started to build up beneath her fingernails and on her cheeks, but it was all minor.

Trainwreck, however, was a completely different beast. He probably hadn't showered in months, ever since he appeared in the Trainyard, so the effect the spell had on him was monumental. The grease in his hair disappeared, leaving the strands soft and healthy. His skin was scrubbed clean, dirt and oil magically disappearing, and the rust and gunk staining and corroding his armor simply flaked away. In only a couple moments, Trainwreck went from being a hideous, stinky, and grimy Case 53 hobo to merely a hideous Case 53 hobo.

He stared down at his gleaming silver gauntlets, a complicated mix of emotions clouding his face. "…"

Trainwreck is amazed. Trainwreck is happy. Trainwreck is confused. Trainwreck is thankful.

Sherrel, meanwhile, only made a pleased little grunt, shooting me a dazzling, white-toothed grin. "Thanks handsome!"

Without any hesitation or shame, she turned around and tackled the floating box of pizza to her chest. "And hellooo beautiful!"

The woman was practically salivating.

"I swear to God, if you eat all of the pizza…"

"What? You gonna punish me, big guy? That supposed to be an early birthday present?" She plopped her butt back on the tailgate of the F-150, her dump truck ass causing the vehicle to jump a little from the added weight. Noticing my gaze, Sherrel teasingly wiggled her hips.

My stare turned deadpanned, and I wrenched my eyes away from her milky white thighs. "Something like that. Doubt you'll like the punishment though."

Her grin turned shark-like. "Try me."

"Ever worn a women's chastity belt?"

That same shark-like grin promptly turned upside down. "… No?"

I smirked. "You will."

She paused.

"… I'm gonna behave, boss."

"Good minion."

As Sherrel solemnly opened the box of Domino's Pizza and helped herself to a large, cheesy slize of triple pepperoni, I turned my attention back to the silent Trainwreck. The bottle of Coke flew upwards, right into my open palm, and I stepped forward to offer him the cold beverage. "You alright, man? If you're worried 'bout eating with those big ass cinderblocks you call hands, I can feed you like a baby bird-"

He snatched the bottle out of my hand. "Don't need no help, kid.… But thanks. For cleanin' my place, cleanin'… me, and gettin' us grub. Ain't used to people carin' like that."

Although his fist dwarfed the comparatively tiny glass bottle by multitudes, Trainwreck handled it with surprising gentleness. With one strong flick of his bulky index finger, the top half of the glass was broken clean off, careening across the room and shattering in the corner. Some of the brown liquid spilled out, dripping to the floor and falling through the cracks in his gauntlets, but Trainwreck didn't seem to care. He brought the jagged edge of the broken bottle to his lips, dipped his head back, and downed it all.

I shrugged. "We kicked you outta your own place, Trainwreck," I chuckled, gesturing towards my own bottle of Sprite. Jerkily, it shot up and towards me, where I caught it in my hand. "The least I could do is bring you some fucking pizza."

I glanced up, and he was mean-mugging me. Not with any anger or ill-will, of course, but the man clearly didn't know how to smile. I could practically see the cogs turning in his skull.

Trainwreck is thoughtful. Trainwreck is desperate. Trainwreck is hopeful.

"You and yer' bi-… you and 'Overdrive'. Yer' doin' some crazy shit, right?" Trainwreck turned his attention back down the the half-broken bottle in his gauntlets, glaring down at the glass like it was its own fault that it was broken. "Ain't any other reason to be putin' half the shit's she's puttin' in that thing. Truck's gon' be a tank."

For a second, I debated lying. Not everyone needed to know my plans, and the less people in the know the easier it would be to slide under the radar and make things happen. Surprise and spontaneity were my best traits right now.

But then, I glanced at him again, heard the whispered Trainwreck is lost in my ear, and came to a decision.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling a small, crooked little smile when his head turned to watch me. "I got a small team, and we're gonna destroy the Empire. Take Downtown."

"Any money involved?" he grunted, trying not to look interested, and I shrugged.

"There's always money involved when you're toppling a country-wide criminal organization."

"… That right?"

Trainwreck went silent, and I let him stew in his thoughts as I popped the cap of my Sprite. For a few minutes, the only sound in the shipping container were the quiet chomps of Sherrel tearing through pizza like the Tasmanian Devil, followed by the low hum of some deep-voiced country singer playing from truck's bluetooth once she finally sussed out how to properly work her new smartphone.

It was on the man's third verse that Trainwreck seemed to come to some mental decision. He gently placed the empty bottle of coke on the ground and fully turned towards me.

"… Yer' wallet deep enough to get me runnin' water? And a fuckin' fridge?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

"An' food that ain't cooked rats or garbage bin shit?"

"Easy enough."

Trainwreck grinned - or, rather, he sneered and I understood that it was meant to be a grin. "An' some brewskis?"

"We'll get you a twelve pack and a cat. You want a cat?"

Trainwreck's acne-scarred cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, and his grin faltered. "The fuck would I want a cat for? No."

Trainwreck is lonely. Trainwreck wants a cat.

I took another sip of my sprite in an attempt to hide my smile.

"'Ight, we'll put a pin on the cat adoption. Welcome to my magical shitshow, Minion #2. We've got a looot to catch you up on tonight."

He shuffled uncomfortably, though the 'minion' classification didn't seem to bother him nearly as much as it had Sherrel the first time I hit her with it. "Sounds 'bout right. Maybe let's talk after eatin' though, yeah?"

"Heh, sure. Wait- fucking hell, Sherrel, I said leave some for us!"

"Wahh- I am! Boss, there's four whole fuckin' slices right there! Ain't my fault you two started your cute gay bondin' sequence!"

"… Uhhh, kid - yer gettin' us more, right?"

"I-… bruh."

We had to order more pizza…

But I was a benevolent sugar daddy. We got through it.

As Trainwreck and Sherrel finished up the truck, using the scrap collected by Trainwreck and the materials purchased by me, I filled my newest minion in on the overall plan for tomorrow's mission. New information, collected by Cassie after technologically raping Victor's phone, was compressed and added into Plan: Cull the Empire. We knew exactly who we would be dealing with, where they would be lying in wait, and what they planned on doing.

All that was left now was… to simply wait for the time to come.

Tomorrow, right before midnight.

That would be the start of the Empire's Fall.

Spoiler: Perks Accepted

Soar (Touhou Project: Parasol Paradise - 100 CP): In Gensokyo, the ability to levitate and fly are very common, and is crucial to Danmaku battles. With some practice, you can learn to travel just as fast around sharp bends and even backwards as you can dead ahead.

Spoiler: A/N

Anyways, a lot happened in this chapter. We got a small interaction with Madison, we met Victor and Othala - or William and Vanessa - and Trainwreck gets recruited! I always figured that he's just very lonely, so company and better living conditions would be enough to buy his loyalty. Dude literally lives in a shipping container. Any money is better than no money.

Next chapter will be the start of the mission. A lot of build up to this, and I hope to make it suitably dramatic and action-packed. We'll be seeing a few different POVs soon.

Check out the if you want an early look at Chapter 29, with Chapter 30 coming Saturday! Otherwise, I'll see you next week - public chapter releasing Tuesday instead of Monday to give me more time to work on everything.

Chapter 33

February 2nd, 10:36 PM

The Protectorate HQ

The Rig was like an anxious den of busy activity, troopers and officials moving back and forth with brisk, hurried footsteps. While normally not an uncommon occurrence, considering the state of the city it claimed fealty to, the energy in the air was… stiff. Tense. Electric.

"Dauntless has just engaged Purity, Director. They're fighting over Cypress Avenue. No recorded civilian casualties from her previous blasts, but reported injuries are closing in on a dozen."

Piggot blamed it on the sudden news and subsequent panic of Purity turning an entire ABB-affiliated warehouse district in the southern Docks to fucking scrap. The timing of the sporadic and destructive attack coinciding directly with the meticulously-planned Birdcage convoy finally getting the green light to get Hookwolf the fuck out of her city was definitely a coincidence, right?

Wrong.

Even her own internal sarcasm was pissing her off right now.

"Get us eyes on; tap into any CCTV footage in the area. And damn it, someone get me Lady Photon on the line! We need more aerial support to contain Purity before she draws Lung out of whatever hole he's been hiding in. That is not a clash we want to happen tonight of all nights, and we don't have the manpower consolidated to win. Make contact with Brandish as well; if neither of them answers, I want one of you to make a damned house call, beating on their doors."

…

" Now!"

Men and women in dark uniforms and suits scattered at her command, some going for phones while others continued to monitor emergency PRT lines

Pain shot through her side like a lance, almost stopping her brisk pacing in its track, but Piggot gritted her teeth, jutted out her jaw, and pushed through the agony. Stress aches, as understated of a term as that was, were commonplace for her nowadays. Heading the operations of an underfunded, understaffed, and, quite frankly, underappreciated PRT branch in a city overly abundant with selfish and destructive parahumans did nothing to regulate her stress.

Stress was bad for the kidneys. Maybe it was a good thing that she'd long since lost hers. At least now, she wasn't putting her actual organs at risk - just the dialysis machine.

"Ma'am," Clancy called out, swiveling in her chair to face the pacing Director. The woman was a fresh promotee, elevated from benign grunt work to Operations Center intel and communications. She was smart and efficient, though not well-suited for physically strenuous work. "I have Lady Photon on comms; she's the one who called. She is en route to intercept Purity alongside Laserdream, Panacea, and Glory Girl. Shielder and Manpower are currently out of town."

Any amount of satisfaction was buried beneath the weight of pragmatic expectations and the responsibility of holding countless lives in her hands, alongside the fact that the Empire was clearly planning a break-out. Purity's attack was merely a diversion.

Piggot turned away from the - so far - mundane camera footage coming from the top of the heavily armored PRT containment van carrying Hookwolf. In the peripherals of the camera, almost cut off by the edges of the monitor, two additional vans with foam sprayers attached to the roofs drove on either side.

Another monitor, this one smaller and less high-quality, showed the fish-eyed footage being streamed from Armsmaster's visor; the man was tailing the caravan on his Tinkertech motorcycle, riding alongside Miss Militia, whilst the crimson blur of a sprinting Velocity occasionally shot by.

They were sticking with the caravan until I-89 out of Brockton Bay proper.

"Good. Estimated time of arrival?" The Director queried offhandedly, pressing her finger repeatedly against her headset to cycle to the transport's encrypted channel.

"ETA is ten minutes with their current rate of travel, ma'am."

Piggot grunted in acknowledgment. Assuming they were traveling well within the maximum range of their total flight speed, that was most likely the best they were going to get. Say what you wanted about New Wave's transparency, the majority of the group was as swift and effective as concentrated missile fire - as long as your aim was good.

"Transport Team," she spoke tersely into her microphone, returning her attention to the monitors. "Listen closely: Purity is raising hell in the Docks, moving completely outside of her usual MO of attacking the gangs directly. Considering the timing, it's safe to assume that-"

There was the sound of static, before Armsmaster's cold, frustrated voice filtered through the headset. "It's a run-of-the-mill diversionary tactic. She's working with the Empire again, and any cape you pull from this team will be less security to defend against their main attack. "

Hearing the reality of the situation directly from the leader of the Protectorate did nothing to assuage the annoyance and stress pressing heavily against her chest like a paperweight. Piggot bit back her mouth's instinctive urge to respond with scornful cynicism. Now wasn't the time to let her emotions get the best of her. "Stay on course until you reach the planned turn-around point, and keep all eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Whatever the Empire has planned, those bastards are going to pull it sooner rather than later. We'll send PRT reinforcements now, so be prepared. We cannot let them rescue Hookwolf under our noses again." Her eyes darted to a loitering officer, brows narrowing and voice raising with finality, and the man saluted and scrambled for his console.

"Understood, Director."

"Yes ma'am!"

"Yes, Director."

Miss Militia's determined voice and Velocity's slightly out-of-breath affirmation were the only responses received from the other two Protectorate heroes. On the monitor, Piggot watched as the Tinker accelerated past the main transport van, head on a swivel as he scanned the passing alleys and buildings for anything even remotely out of place. The convoy was moving at a clipped sixty miles per hour, though the exit to get on the Interstate was coming up soon. After that, their speed would accelerate considerably, and the heroes would peel off to let the vans continue unaccompanied.

If the Empire was going to attack, it would have to be before I-89. Assuming they mobilized their more dextrous and ambush-capable capes, then that would mean-

"D-Director!" The agent monitoring Dauntless' status abruptly stood from his computer, his flax brown skin turning ashen. Heads in the Operations Center swiveled at the unprofessional shout, and Piggot herself scowled - not at the raised voice, but the alarm and panic clear on the young man's face. The room was dark, illuminated only by the fluorescent blue glow from the countless monitors and screens lining the walls and desks, but even with her less-than-stellar vision Piggot could see the fear in the man's gaze.

"Now isn't the time for panic, agent - we've got enough problems outside HQ. What is it?" Pain gripped her side, coming from organs that weren't even there anymore, but Piggot set her jaw and marched towards the pale-faced man.

"Dauntless. Dauntless is unconscious, ma'am. I was monitoring his vitals and staying up-to-date with his helmet footage and what little CCTV cameras are in the area, and…" The agent paused, licking his lips and tapping a violent combination of keys on the keyboard, and Piggot felt her face heat up in frustration.

"Shit!" she swore, slamming her palm on the cool plastic of the black desk and glaring at the screen. One corner of the monitor was straight static - Purity had to have gotten him with a shot to the head, smoking his helmet's camera. The other parts of the screen showed scrambled and heavily warped footage of a rubble-strewn street and what seemed like burning warehouses, all byproducts of a horrible woman with the power to level buildings bursting from her chest. Another parahuman just as obsessed with destruction, chaos, and misery as the same people she 'left' years ago.

Another fucking hypocrite.

"Agent Clancy, ETA for New Wave. Purity needs to be apprehended." She wasn't just targeting ABB at this point - this was just wanton destruction for the absolute fuck of it. Whatever Kaiser offered her to help them, she was clearly willing to abandon whatever weak morals she'd attained since leaving in exchange for it.

"They've increased their speed, ma'am - they should be arriving in less than three minutes."

That wasn't fast enough.

Piggot's index finger scratched aggravatedly against the surface of the desk. The weight in her chest grew, the dryness in her throat worsening, but she allowed none of it to show on her face. This was the burden she pledged to carry when she decided to dedicate her entire life to protecting and upholding the laws of society.

She bit back another cynical retort. "That'll have to be enough, then. Send what field officers we have around the Docks directly to Cypress Avenue. I want Dauntless secured and stabilized in a PRT custody, and that entire neighborhood cordoned off to mitigate civilian injuries and disruption. Where the hell is Triumph? Assault and Battery?!"

Another agent, this one heavyset and bald, chimed in hurriedly from another desk. "Their patrol was interrupted by an… art museum robbery in the commercial district, Director. By the Undersiders. There were no injuries or casualties, but the villains managed to esc-"

"I don't care if those children managed to get away with the goddamned Mona Lisa. Get Assault and Battery to the Docks, backing up New Wave, now."

"Right. And what about Triumph…?"

"Connect him with our Birdcage prisoner transport team. As long as we can protect that containment van and bloody the Empire's nose enough to retreat and lick their wounds, the convoy should be able to rendezvous with the Guild in Vermont."

"On it, Director!"

Breathing hot puffs of air out of her flaring nostrils, Piggot pushed off of the desk and moved to resume her stressed pacing. If it wasn't one fucking thing, it was a-fucking-nother. If it wasn't the residential super nazis of the Bay attacking men and women for the color of their damn skin and breaking their pet mutt out of the pound, it was an oversized man-lizard setting fire to buildings or irresponsible teenagers robbing art museums because why not.

She had taken this position for a reason, right?

Right. Because she was too crippled to take the fucking fight directly to those bastards herself.

"Lady Photon has reported that they've arrived on scene, ma'am," Agent Clancy suddenly spoke up, her voice distracted as she pressed her fingers against her headset and furrowed her brow. Piggot paused mid-step, an odd feeling flitting through her gut as the normally composed and orderly woman's face began paling. "U-Understood, Lady Photon. Okay. Yes."

"What is happening, Agent?" Piggot interrupted, her flinty voice lowering into a discomforted rasp. They were already spread paper-thin as is, with the added pressure of an eminent ambush looming over their heads. What else could possibly be wrong now?

"Understood." Clancy mumbled into the headset again, before snapping her head up to meet Piggot's narrowed gaze. The young agent hesitated for only a second, worrying her plump bottom lip with her teeth, before speaking quickly. "Ma'am, Lady Photon has reported additional capes on the scene."

Piggot's stomach flopped. Clenching her fists, she stepped closer. "Has Lung or Oni Lee decided to finally appear? Who are we dealing with?"

Clancy paused again, and that brief moment of silence was enough time for Piggot to flash through several varying levels of impatience. Before she could say another word, the agent continued. "Lung is engaging Purity right now, but he isn't the only new capes to arrive. Night and Fog… they've returned from Boston, and are engaging with New Wave as we speak. Glory Girl was ambushed on arrival, but she was able to recover quickly."

Ice.

Ice flooded Piggot's veins, bringing with it a startling shock of numbness and focus. The anxiety, stress, fear, anger… she dropped it all into the whirring blender that was her will, and channeled it all into cold determination.

The nazis wanted to play fuck-fuck games, she'd give them fuck-fuck games.

"Make a request for Panacea to restore Dauntless to fighting form - he was probably taken down by a sneak attack by Night and or Fog during his fight. Assuming his boots are still functional, he should be able to rival and overcome Purity in speed," she ordered, turning away and gesturing to another agent before Clancy could even reply.

"Underst-… okaaay."

"You - notify Assault and Battery of the change in capes, and warn them to not engage with Lung. Night and Fog are the priorities, and they should know their powers. If Battery sees the opportunity, assist New Wave and Dauntless with apprehending Purity."

"Yes, Director!"

Unmuting her headset, Piggot turned towards Armsmaster's visor monitor and stepped closer to view the fish-eyed footage with a more discerning eye. They were approaching the city exit that would take them onto I-89, and in the back of her head, whispering its paranoid whispers, something was telling her that it wouldn't be long now.

"Armsmaster, Triumph should be on his way to reinforce the-"

CRACK!

A gunshot, tinny and echoing, shot through her ears, and Piggot cold blood ran hot.

"Shots fired, shots-!"

Birdcage Transport

"-fired! Get behind cov-"

CRACK!

CRACK!

Armsmaster's brain couldn't react fast enough to bark out orders in response to the sudden expert marksman. Two more gunshots, deafening and powerful, ripped through the stormy night sky, and suddenly… the transport van was leaning heavily to the right. Sparks lit up Lord Street's four-lane road, the screeching of rims grinding viciously against the rain-slick blacktop filling the air. The agent driving the van tried to regain control, he truly did, but the third gunshot wasn't aimed at a tire - it was aimed at the engine block.

The transport van was reinforced with a combined alloy of armored steel and carbon, and the tires were lined with a special rubber-like polymer blended to endure most forms of penetration. For all intents and purposes, mundane firearms - even military grade rifles utilizing .50 caliber munitions - would have trouble piercing its defenses. The vehicle was made to resist parahumans.

But it was staring to slow down, steam was beginning to drift from beneath the hood, and there was still a sniper with sights set on his team. The most likeliest culprit was Victor, considering he was the Empire's most prolific sharpshooter, and those shots were good.

Armsmaster slid his motorcycle into cover behind the right-most escort van, moving along with it as the driver slowly pulled up to block the sniper's line of sight with the transport. He didn't like the feeling of being pinned down; defending himself from lasers and blasts of fire was wholly different from having the sight of a high-powered sniper rifle trained on his forehead, and it was partially this discomfort that stopped most capes from utilizing guns. The Unwritten Rules shunned them for a reason.

No one wanted to get shot in the head from over 300 meters away without even knowing it happened.

"Miss Militia," he spoke loudly into his helmet's microphone, carefully sliding off of his bike and pressing his back flat against the PRT van. "Velocity. Are either of you hit?" The heavy downpour of rain, combined with the cloudy darkness of the night sky, did its damndest to obscure his sight, but his visor was capable of seeing in a variety of vision modes.

There was a crackle in his ears, and a woman's calm, focused voice voice came through. "I'm fine. Taking cover behind the other van. Velocity, can you spot for me? I can't see the bastard…"

There was a blur of red that wrapped around the halted convoy, water droplets spraying into the air, and suddenly Velocity was crouched beside him. "I tried to get a good look, but the rain's not on my side tonight - I couldn't see anything."

Armsmaster furrowed his brow. "Damn it. The gunshots came from the West, that much I can tell. Victor hasn't shot to kill - with his ability, killing the drivers would've been child's play. They're not escalating to that degree yet."

"That doesn't mean he won't target non-vitals, Armsmaster, and if the bullets pierced the armored van…"

She didn't need to go into further detail - the underlying meaning was clear. His armor was good, but whatever rifle Victor was using, wherever the sniper was, would most likely punch through.

Piggot's voice, clipped and succinct, buzzed through his helmet before he could start running through different strategies. "Transport team, Triumph and PRT reinforcements are five minutes away. Hunker down and defend the van until then. Civilians are being warned to stay away from your location, but still be watchful."

A logical directive. As Miss Militia relayed what little information they'd uncovered, Armsmaster didn't respond verbally, opting to slide along the side of the van he was using as cover and carefully peek around the back end. In addition to nightvision, his visor was fitted with state-of-the-art telescopic software and thermal imaging. They were no longer in the residential part of Downtown anymore, as the closer you got to exiting - or entering - the city, the more tourist and traveler businesses you saw dotting the periphery.

To the West, where the gunshots came from, there were multiple high-rise buildings that the sniper could've planted himself on top of. A few office buildings, a gas station a bit too far down the road, a four-story hotel…

He paused. The hotel was the tallest building that side of Lord Street, a part of the Pilor Resort chain that catered towards the rich all across the East Coast, and if the distance-analyzing software in his visor was correct, the hotel itself was about 309 meters away from their current location. A bit further if he calculated the lip of the rooftop instead of the flat side of the building.

Armsmaster zoomed and enhanced. At first, there was no discernible difference between the edge of the rooftop and any other rooftop in the area - just slate gray stone and little beads that he recognized as raindrops sliding down his visor - but then, something shifted. Almost unseeable, even with his night and thermal vision. The barest flash of white - heat.

"Velocity, do you feel comfortable drawing fire? I think I have eyes on Victor."

There was a pause, before, "Can do, sir. He's towards the West, right? I need to know where to expect a shot from if I want to have any chance at actually dodging it." To his credit, Velocity didn't sound perturbed at all. If anything, the veteran seemed less bored.

"There's a grouping of buildings that you should be able to see if you run out and face Westwards - he's on the tallest building there. Miss Militia…" Armsmaster trailed off, knowing that he didn't need to say what needed to be said here.

A crackle through the headset. "I've got NVGs on and rifle trained, loaded with nonlethal ammunition. Good eye, Armsmaster. Ready when you are, Velocity."

Armsmaster nodded at the compliment, knowing full well that she couldn't see it.

"Three…" Velocity breathed, tapping the rain-slick ground thrice in succession.

"Two…" He shifted, subtly pulling his leg back into a runner's stance. Armsmaster, pressing his back against the van, unholstered his Halberd.

"One!"

A blast of air buffeted him from the side, and a spray of water droplets followed right after. Armsmaster peeked out from behind the van again-

CRACK!

CRACK!

Two rapports - one from further away, and the other from right behind him. Armsmaster grit his teeth against the ear-splitting gunshots, his helmet's sensors dampening the worst of the noise, and focused his sight on the rooftop. That white haze - Victor - was bigger now, but it wasn't ducking back down beneath cover; it was apt to say that he was slumped over and decidedly incapacitated, considering the alternative was a much more illogical possibility that he was lying out in the open after revealing his position. Victor wasn't stupid.

"Target down."

"Confirmed. Good shot, Miss Militia," he returned the compliment, before walking over to a Velocity hurriedly patting his various limbs down. With the threat - for now - taken out, there was no need to hide behind the vans - it was unlikely that one sniper was the Empire's only plan of attack. "Any bullet holes?"

"No sir. None that I can feel, at the very least," the Mover straightened up, a slightly twitchy grin pulling at his thin lips. "Don't know if I'll be drawing out sniper fire anytime soon, though. Those bullets are way too big." He held out his hand, and in his palm was a brass-colored, three inch round that was steaming due to the rain and moisture clinging thickly to the air.

Armsmaster blinked away his intrigue. "Leave it be for forensics to handle. For now, see if you can get up to the roof of that hotel and perform an arrest. I'll see about repairing the transport and patching up the-"

"Uh, sir-"

"What?" Armsmaster paused, his brow furrowing at being interrupted. Time was of the essence, and they did not have much of it to spare.

"I can't see too well, but… the hell is that?" Velocity pointed over his shoulder with the bullet, and Armsmaster immediately twisted on his heel to see what he was referring to. Beneath the sound of rain and wind, and the usual violent ambience of a Brockton Bay night, there was an odd sound - like something dense cutting through the air.

His visor glinted, vision bright beneath the dark, overcast sky, and Armsmaster's heart stopped at what he saw.

Miss Militia's hurried voice shot through the comms. "Five capes, Empire-affiliated, flying in from over the left-most building to the East." That was all she could get out before a staccato of angry gunfire began barking out in bursts.

Armsmaster was already sprinting forward before Miss Militia's report was even finished. The five capes were bright and clear in his eyes, approaching rapidly from the sky on what appeared to be two large, ragged slabs of torn-apart concrete - Krieg and Alabaster on one, Stormtiger and Rune on the other, while Crusader flew above all of them. The initial approximation of 'five' was disingenuous, considering the ghostly forms of three more armored, spear-wielding men peeling off from Crusader and diving towards the hail of bullets flying from Miss Milita's side of the van. Another ghost pulled away from the hovering 'knight' to fly West, towards the hotel.

Altogether, they were a lot of capes for just three heroes, and it was clear that the aggressive party planned to win through swift, overwhelming aerial superiority and mobility. Even now, their platforms were circling the beached convoy, never staying in one spot long enough to get a good enough shot off. That made Rune a high-priority target, with Krieg second most important since he was almost definitely acting as the commander.

The slab of concrete carrying Krieg and Alabaster shot forward, faster than the others, as the bullets passed through Crusader's ghosts, slowing to a noticeable degree the closer they got to the well-dressed nazi wearing a gasmask. He crossed his forearms over his face in an 'X' formation, preparing himself to straight up tank the bullets.

As they harmlessly pittered off of Krieg's raised arms, not even tearing through the black fabric of his over the top Nazi ensemble, the white-skinned Alabaster dove off the makeshift platform, over fifty feet high in the air. Distinctly, Armsmaster could see knives gripped in his hands.

"Get to Victor before Crusader does, Velocity."

"On it."

A red blur passed by his left, and in the corner of his vision, he noticed the containment foam turrets swiveling to point towards the approaching capes. A spray of the pale yellow fluid blasted through the air, aimed towards Crusader, but the man was too high above ground - the turrets were made for closer targets. There was a blast of air from Stormtiger, and the containment foam blasted back towards the van that shot it. Immediately, it reacted to the oxygen in the air and bubbled up into a sticky, dense mess, coating both the turret and the windshield of the van.

Useless.

Data flashed through his HUD, predicting the angle of Alabaster's fall alongside the height from which he'd jumped - roughly fifty feet - and the acceleration due to gravity - approximately 9.8 m/s. Gathering all of that information together, then…

Armsmaster dashed forward, his HUD lighting up the exact spot Alabaster would land - most likely with broken legs and a destroyed spine. For four seconds.

He lashed out with his Halberd, twisting the motion-sensitive shaft and triggering the electricity field around the head of his signature weapon. Blue arcs of raw energy buzzed along the metal, humming quietly amidst the sound of gunshots and rainfall, and Armsmaster squared his shoulders.

Alabaster was the least of his worries in this group, but if he was offering himself up freely, then Armsmaster would be the one to put him down and double back to-

VROOOOOOM!

A mechanical roar drowned out every other sound on Lord Street, and Armsmaster didn't have time to look over his shoulder before something was soaring over his head, a large shadow dwarfing his form for the briefest of moments before passing.

The mechanical beast was like a black, bulky, armored missile - larger and faster than any combat-oriented truck the PRT currently had in Brockton Bay, but put together by what seemed to be burnished steel plates charred a deep, soot-like ebony. Two massive pipes extended from either side of the body like a semi, belching out a steam that seemed to turn the rain around it to vapor.

That was all he could gather in the brief couple seconds where the truck was in his direct line of sight.

His prediction program stalled, recalibrating to take into account the new variable, and Armsmaster's eyes widened behind his visor-

CRUNCH!

SPLAT!

The battlefield quietened.

Dimly, he was aware of the chalk-colored arm plopping onto the digital red circle right in front of him. Blood mingled with the rain, slicking his visor with a coppery red streak that smeared when he went to wipe it off with the gloved hand not gripping his Halberd. Through the mess of blood and water, he could see that even the Empire was confused at the sudden turn of events and gore.

The truck landed heavily on the road after splattering Alabaster across Lord Street, tires squealing and leaving behind bloodied tracts as it accelerated forward at ridiculous speeds, drifted into a two-wheeled U-turn, and drove towards the convoy at an estimated sixty miles per hour.

Armsmaster narrowed his eyes. There was a figure crouched on top of the roof, its dark form almost blending in perfectly with the black paint of the truck, but something about the silhouette was familiar.

"What the hell is going on, Armsmaster? Report." Piggot's voice buzzed through his helmet.

"We've been attacked by four additional Empire capes, led by Krieg. A third party interfered and… killed Alabaster."

Though his voice was calm despite the chaos, Armsmaster didn't stay still. He twisted his Halberd, canceling its electrical output, and shot his grappling hook toward the foam-covered van that Miss Militia had been fighting beside. In a blur of movement, he skillfully maneuvered over the hood of the vehicle and landed in front of the woman, only just noticing that there were none of Crusader's ghosts in the area.

Miss Militia's rifle dissipated into green energy before re-emerging as a shotgun, which she leveled in his direction - for only the very briefest of seconds. As soon as she recognized who it was, the firearm was aimed towards the ground.

"… Killed as in 'temporarily incapacitated'?"

It was Miss Militia who answered, her voice cold and stoic. "Permanently dead. Unless he can come back from getting his brain pulverized by a few tons of metal, that is." Her words hinted at a bite of dark humor, but there was no smile in her tone.

"Who-"

The screeching of tires skidding across the blacktop cut through whatever the Director was going to say. Armsmaster and Miss Militia moved quickly to get a handle on the situation, the gunwoman switching back to a rifle to line up sight for an opportune shot, but things were quickly spiraling out of control. Rune's platforms weren't just hovering still, especially after the rogue truck flattened Alabaster, and Krieg was nowhere to be seen.

The concrete he'd been riding crashed against the road, splintering into smaller chunks of rubble.

The figure on top of the truck was no longer in sight, and fist-sized fragments of concrete were being shot toward the vehicle at speeds comparable to bullets. Crusader's ghosts accompanied the rock bombardment, soaring down like falcons and attempting to skewer the driver with spears, but they moved too slow to keep up.

Whoever was driving the truck was clearly a parahuman of some kind - and most likely the Tinker who worked on the vehicle. They accelerated and deaccelerated at the perfect rate to avoid projectiles, performing maneuvers and on-the-spot twists and turns that just barely managed to get them out of the way of the bulk of the rocks. A fair amount still managed to hit, of course, but a cocoon-like glow of blue energy would pulsate outwards and send the concrete flying through the air.

Electromagnetic repulsion. The vehicle had a shield generator, in addition to whatever modifications were giving the truck the torque and power necessary to hit such high speeds in fractions of a fraction of a second. A few Tinkers came to mind when he thought of capes in the Bay capable of such work, and the only one that made sense to him was Squealer, who was 'missing' according to the imprisoned Skidmark.

The same Skidmark that was defeated and left to rot by Avalon after the independent hero attacked their 'block party'.

The same Avalon that defeated Hookwolf and asked, under no uncertain terms, whether he'd be sent off to the Birdcage properly.

His jaw clenched, and a warm veil of frustration coated his skin.

"Avalon." Armsmaster hissed the name out beneath his breath, but it came out clear and loud in the microphone. "He must have gained some sort of Stranger power, because I saw him before, on top of the armored truck. He's recruited Squealer, and they've come together to attack - or kill the Empire's ambush team."

Miss Militia's cool and composed countenance hesitated at that, but she said nothing - merely pressing her face back against the scope of her rifle and moving to follow the lethal game of cat and mouse happening ahead of their miniature blockade.

"… Are you sure about this, Armsmaster? The camera footage from your visor is compromised, so we can't verify this information ourselves."

His response was immediate. "I am certain."

Who else could it have been? Armsmaster had nothing personal against the kid, but it was plays like this that made his job harder, made being the leader more difficult. When cocky, naturally-blessed capes - hell, cocky Trumps went above and beyond their station, feeling as if the rules and normal state of affairs for the more hardworking cape weren't worth their time, it dropped bullshit down on the rest.

Alabaster would've been detained without the added escalation of death. Now, the Empire would be out for fucking blood to answer for a death on their side. The public would find out, because they always did, and the Protectorate would be left picking up the pieces and defending Downtown against incensed neo-nazis while Avalon used one of his many abilities to sink back into the background, into anonymity.

The arrogance pissed him off. This was different than what happened with Hookwolf, which had been a classic case of self-defense. This was premeditated.

"Then we'll need to collect a statement from him as well. Reinforcements should be arriving shortly. Velocity has already delivered Victor to-"

A higher-pitched girl's voice, maybe sixteen or seventeen years of age with no discernible accent, cheerfully piped in. "Maybeee have them stay back and establish some kinda blocked-off perimeter? I already had to change some traffic lights to redirect a few curious civvies, and the cape nerds are gonna start crawling around to get some pics and vids for PHO. Just let us handle this."

There was a pause. Armsmaster and Miss Militia shared a glance, the woman glancing away from her scope, and the young girl quickly continued.

"By the way, I can see you Miss Militia! Big fan of your work, but that's probably 'cause I play a lot of Call of Arms. Mind if I get an autograph after this mess?"

"Uh… maybe-"

Piggot's level voice broke through. "Who are you and how do you have access to this channel?"

Something she said stood out to Armsmaster, and he frowned. "And how are you accessing my visor's camera?" The question came out more as an order.

This time a lower, more raspy voice, this one a woman's, yelled out from the background, and the teenage hacker swore under her breath. "Fuck, hold on! Trainwreck, it's your tu-"

A massive roar of wind forced his attention back to the fight, and Armsmaster watched as the truck flew back on two wheels, steam billowing from its exhaust pipes as the front wheels twisted left and right. Stormtiger stood at the edge of his slowly diminishing concrete platform, muscles tensed and hands splayed out in front of him. As Rune moved the crumbling platform closer, recognizing the truck's halt as the ample opportunity that it was, four of Crusader's ghosts circled around to sink their spears into the sides of the flipped-back vehicle.

Multiple things happened at once.

Miss Militia went to take a shot at Crusader, recognizing the fact that his spears would most likely skewer straight through the vehicle's armor - and kill the occupants inside.

A familiar sound rang through the air, an alien-like whine that tapered off into an ear-splitting, high-pitched roar. Golden light lit up the sky, illuminating Lord Street in a bright, fluorescent yellow glow, and Crusader's form disappeared beneath the massive ray.

The ghosts faded away.

The back end of the truck cracked open like a bear trap, allowing a towering, bulky figure encased in glimmering steel power armor to lunge out and bull-doze Stormtiger off of Rune's platform.

And finally, a powerful, bone-shattering force slammed Armsmaster against the side of the van, knocking all the breath out of his body in one go. His skeleton rattled in his skin, his brain struggled to register what force of fucking nature just hit him, and he was only scarcely aware of his flashing HUD alerting him of broken ribs and a concussion.

His vision became spotty, and something injected itself into his back from within his suit. Adrenaline. Energy.

Awareness.

"-aster! Krieg, stand down!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

An unending chain of gunshots, automatic. Useless against Krieg. His Halberd would be better.

He blinked through the dots in his vision, his right middle finger sliding across the sensor on his palm. His halberd shot to his grip from where it had clattered to the ground when Krieg blindsided him, and Armsmaster began pulling himself out of the side of the van.

Large gloved hands gripped him by the neck, gravity flipped itself upside down, and suddenly Armsmaster found himself folding over Miss Militia. They were both sent crashing down against the concrete, the violent movement rustling the already broken bones in his torso. He landed on top of her, and just barely leveraged his weight to not crush her beneath his armored form, but that didn't stop her from crying out in pain.

"Urgh!"

He barely felt the agony past a hot, almost burning sensation in his abdomen. The only thing he could feel was the blood rushing through his veins, and the adrenaline accelerating his heartbeat.

"This is a reckoning of your own making," Krieg's muffled, vaguely German-accented voice sounded bored - dismissive, even. "Stay down like the traitorous dogs you are and you won't die. We will have blood for blood tonight, and we will save our own." With no hesitation, he turned to walk away.

Armsmaster struggled to his feet, but the world itself seemed to press down on him - down on his chest, on his broken ribs. He could barely breathe.

Nearby, the sound of some type of orchestral music and explosions and sirens began to rock Lord Street.

"Attack. We have to stop Krieg-"

Nausea enveloped his entire person, threatening to rob him of his vision, and Armsmaster was barely aware of the fact that Miss Militia had caught him just as he was beginning to black out. His Halberd clattered to the concrete, again, and in the back of his lagging mind, he lamented the damage each impact caused.

" You stay right here until you can be extracted, sir. Director, I'm assuming control over the transport team. Have the reinforcements form a perimeter as the girl suggested-"

"Iris," the assumed hacker corrected, as if she wasn't actively riding in a vehicle smack-dab in the middle of a cape firefight. "And good idea - listening to the coolest hacker ever, that is. Looks like Avalon's gonna start showing off now… he started playing frickin' boss music. Them flipping the truck must've pissed him off. Oh, and Trainwreck's pretty good at fighting too, I guessss."

"That's my Boss! This shit rocks!" That same distant woman's voice - Squealer, he reminded himself - yelled in the background.

Miss Militia continued without missing a beat, "Form a perimeter as Iris suggested, but send Triumph ahead. I'm engaging Krieg now."

"… Good luck, Miss Militia. We will have words later, 'Iris'. Tell Avalon to de-escalate and go nonlethal. No killing."

"Uhhh… sorry, can't do that. He's black, and they're nazis. They kinda deserve it, don't they?"

"You are not the ones to decide that! We have peop-"

The voices were getting more distant.

His head swam again, this time taking him completely under.

Everything went black.

Spoiler: A/N

The ambush starts! Don't worry, I know you didn't get to see much action in this chapter - we're going to go to Avalon's POV next, so you get a better idea of what's going on. Armsmaster did get fucked up by Krieg, yes, but Krieg's powers are actually fucking strong. Dude's a Brute/Shaker that actively lessens the kinetic energy of everything around him through unconscious manipulation of air pressure. Being near an enemy actively slows them down and compresses their fucking chest.

Combined that with a Brute rating that lets him kick full grown men through brick walls, and of course Armsy got one-tap sucker-punched. Avalon was a bit too focused on saving his people to focus on Krieg sneaking up on the convoy.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed a look into the PRT/Protectorate. They are really stretched thin. The Empire doesn't often flex their power like this, seeing as it's bad for escalation on both sides, but saving Hookwolf was worth it in Kaiser's opinion - and speaking of Kaiser, we're due a POV of him at some point too.

Two perks were rolled during this chapter and will be revealed next chapter.

As always, next chapter is up on , and Chapter 31 will be uploaded either tonight or tomorrow. Comment, like, etc etc. - that shit gives me the motivation to keep going.

Chapter 34

Chilling ambience filled the dark, cloudy sky.

A haze of Aqshy infused my body in a dense wave of heated magic, keeping my clothes and body dry in the wake of the night's heavy storm. Rain droplets sizzled and evaporated mere moments away from making actual contact with me, leaving both of my visions clear.

I had been a bit… incensed at how close the truck had gotten to being turtle-flipped over onto its back, and it may have come through in the overwhelmingly girthy size of my Gaster Blaster's laser beam. It consumed the night sky, as wide as a goddamned house and half as tall, and I was just happy that it was limited to extending only ten meters away from me before petering out. Otherwise, the hotel across the street would definitely have ended up with a suspicious amount of vacancies on the upper floors.

It was good, then, that I was going for an obvious display of pure power.

I was still blinking spots out of my vision when the golden blast of pure, magical light and heat finally dissipated, leaving behind tiny motes of mana that twinkled like stars.

Crusader's body would have begun falling to the street below if I hadn't teleported forward to catch it by the collar, grunting silently at the surprisingly heavy weight of his medieval set of armor. A quick yank of the Aethyr, and his helmet went sailing off of his head, exposing a face that could have once been considered handsome after a couple beers.

"So much for 'mah white supremacy'. Asshole." I snorted, tilting my head and examining the corpse - because he was as dead as a doorknob unless he held the soul power of a fucking Shinigami. Whatever the hell complete soul erasure caused, Crusader was the prime example of it. His skin was as pale as Alabaster's - at least before Overdrive turned him into road kill - and his cheeks were sunken in to a grotesque degree, as if all the blood in his body was just drained right outta him. His brown hair was limp and stringy, plastered to his bony forehead.

All in all, Crusader kinda looked like the deaf bitch from Spongebob who hated chocolate. Ironic, considering who he ran with. Fortunately for me, the quick examination only took a few seconds.

I promptly let go of the dead body.

'Oh well, onto the pussycat-'

I turned my attention down to the chaos-filled street below me, and warmth surged from my mask. The sound of bells filled my skull.

I tilted my head to the side, barely dodging a blast of stone the size of Trainwreck's fist. My eyes narrowed, and I raised my hand to-

CRACK.

Stars filled my vision, and I felt heat, so very different from the warmth of my mask, pulsating from the side of my head. I hadn't been prepared for the second chunk of concrete that curved around like a boomerang, peeling off from the shadows of the first. I rolled with the hit, feeling a hot liquid trickle down from the torn flesh and burn against my Aqshy field as I did so. My thoughts weren't muddled yet, the pain only igniting the scorching vindictiveness alight in my chest. More bowling ball-sized rocks were coming, at least a dozen of them, jagged and heavy and fast, but I could actually see them. There was no time for active thought, only action.

My body blurred into motion, charged by the Winds and guided by my mask.

Every movement flowed smoothly into the next, the blood singing in my veins as I pushed my body further and further. A flip backward to dodge a shotgun blast of stone, a swift juke to the right to dodge a much larger slab, a hovering twist on my left foot to reorient myself, and then another tilt of my head to just barely avoid a sneaky sliver of concrete that would have taken an eye. My face warmed, instincts screaming at me as the rocks that I'd already dodged reversed themselves to attack me from behind, but I had Second Sight - I'd known the entire time they were still there.

There was a high-pitched whine and a slight dip in my reserves as Gaster Blaster appeared behind me and roared its golden challenge to the world, turning a majority of the floating chunks to scattered rubble within its laser beam.

A brief, uneasy pause drifted between us, and I worked to stabilize my breathing. Rune's onslaught was tireless, and the projectiles were practically homing missiles, but I knew that she needed time to inscribe her power onto more objects. I could see the nazi bitch through the darkness, hovering on a much more solid platform made of mashed-together blacktop and concrete. Her face was shrouded in shadows from her large hood, long blonde hair spilling out of her vaguely wizard-like robes as she dragged her fingertips across rock beneath her feet.

Her head was tilted up towards me, and Hidden Intuition whispered that she was yelling something, but I couldn't hear her words over the sound of rain, heavy wind, and Pain's foreboding ass theme song.

None of that really mattered at the moment, did it? I had a brief moment of respite from her ranged attacks as she traced more runes over her platform, and I didn't let it slip out of my fingers. Trainwreck assured me that he could hold Stormtiger off for at least a few minutes, especially with the durability-enhancing magic I infused his power armor with, but I had never been one to completely hedge my bets on other people - 'specially not someone I'd only just recruited yesterday.

When it came down to shit hitting the fan, I trusted my magic above all else.

In a sizzle of rain and a woosh of displaced air, I disappeared.

Rune felt like she was going through the five stages of grief at a rate that just could not be healthy.

How had things gone so totally, completely, and utterly to shit in only a few minutes?

Being the centerpiece of a break-out operation was exciting, and when Kaiser confirmed that she would be the most important part of the mission, urging the others to keep her protected, Rune's heart almost burst with pride. Her role was supposed to be relatively simple; keep the team mobile at all times, supply them with the aerial advantage since the transport would only be guarded by non-fliers, and provide supportive fire from long-range once the Protectorate began fighting back.

It was supposed to be quick, aggressive, and easy - just the way she liked her crimes. The only reason so many of them were mobilized in the first place was because Kaiser was worried about that Avalon spook showing up and making shit difficult. He'd taken out Hookwolf, but that was mainly with his Shaker power that corroded metal. Outside of that, his other recorded powers were counterable. Annoying and strong, sure, especially the fuck-off lasers and the teleportation, but they could out-maneuver those.

On the off chance that he did show up, she was confident in their ability to defeat him.

Capture was preferable, according to Kaiser - he wanted to make an example out of the nigger to stifle the way that the blacks online were beginning to rally together behind Avalon's name. According to him, that sort of attention and fervor wasn't good for their organization.

And everything had been going so well, too.

The Protectorate, a bunch of pussies as always, were being pinned down behind their trucks. Victor had been taken out, but breaking him out of prison - if his cocky ass couldn't slip out himself - would be easy, especially with Hookwolf freed once again. Crusader was keeping the heroes' only form of long-ranged attacks busy, and it was only a matter of time before Miss Militia succumbed to his annoying ass clones. All that was left was for her to move Krieg, Alabaster, and Stormtiger up to the containment van, help them dunk on the rest of the heroes, break Hookwolf out, and then leave the heroes wounded and embarrassed.

Everything really had been going according to plan.

… Before it wasn't.

Before Alabaster was exploded into nothing but chunks by that monster truck of a vehicle that was just too fucking fast to hit.

Before some giant in bulky power armor football tackled Stormtiger off of her platform, plowing through the man's hurried blast of wind with pure weight and grit.

Before a second sun exploded in the night sky and burned her fucking irises with its golden glow.

Before… before Avalon showed up, killed two of their members, and then proceeded to dodge all of her moves, seemingly with unnatural ease. Thinker, Mover, Trump, fucking retarded!

And now?

'Now,' Rune snarled as she hurriedly forced the front half of her car-sized platform upwards into a rudimentary shield, 'Now we're getting fucked!'

And that pissed her off more than anything. More than fear, more than regret, more than shame-

BOOM!

Her heart shot into her throat.

"SCREW YOU NIGG-"

A gauntlet-clad fist, surrounded by a warm, radiant golden hue, turned the thick wall of concrete into powder. Fragments of rock and dust exploded like shrapnel, slamming into her body like the punches of a particularly angry boxer, and Rune instinctively covered her face with her draping sleeves as a sliver of stone sliced a hot, painful line across the soft flesh of her cheek.

It was pure luck that she did - not even a moment later, that same fist blasted into her criss-crossed forearms, and a loud, ear-splitting crack echoed through her skull.

The explosive blow sent Rune rag-dolling through the air, over a dozen yards above Lord Street.

Rune saw him for the briefest of seconds, right before takeoff. Tall, silent, shrouded in his golden glow. A monster incarnate, standing on thin air with his fist still extended. Fuck, he wasn't even wet from the rain.

Avalon wasn't normal. He wasn't a normal fucking cape.

The pain was delayed. She felt the wind whistle through her ears, rain impacting against her water-logged body and cooling the warm bruises on her skin way before she felt the burning, stabbing agony of broken bones. It was a new kind of pain that she'd never felt before in her short fourteen years of living, the kind of pain that made her want to both piss herself and scream her throat raw.

She was screaming her throat raw, Rune belatedly noticed. Panic flooded in like a tide, joining the soul-deep throbbing that pounded through her broken arms like drum beats. She instinctively went to flail her arms, only distantly aware of the fact that a fall from this height would definitely kill her, but she couldn't feel her hands. She couldn't feel her forearms. Even if she could feel more than that burning, throbbing agony, it wasn't like she could draw symbols in mid-air.

She was going to die. She was going to fucking die-

A strong hand yanked the back of her hood, and then she was dangling, limp and panicking, within the oddly warm grasp of the very same fucker that ruined everything.

"You fucking spook- AGHHH!"

Rune bit her tongue, stubbornly cutting off the agonized scream that wanted so desperately to burst out as Avalon shook her by her hood like a naughty, rain-soaked cat. Her limp forearms smacked against her stomach at the movement, and she felt her eyes roll upwards as darkness beckoned. Another bolt of pain lanced through her arms, and unfortunately, Rune was shocked back into full awareness.

"You kiss Kaiser's ass with that mouth?" Avalon's voice was quiet and deep and gravelly in just the right way to send shivers of fear and hatred down her spine. Feebly, with all of her flagging strength, she kicked back at his legs with her boots. He didn't even react. "Do something for me if you wanna live; yell 'black power, fuck nazis'. Make MLK proud. Say more racist shit, I drop your redneck ass. You get me?"

The way that he spoke to her - spoke down to her, with a mocking lilt to his cold tone, lit a fire in her belly. She pushed through the pain, pushed through the fear, and spat out her next words.

"H-how about you kiss my ass and stay in your god-damn lane you filthy sack of b-"

She plummeted.

There was a flash of crimson something - energy, light? - but Rune couldn't focus on anything except the feeling of her stomach falling to her ankles and the pain of her broken arms flopping upwards in the wind. She nearly bit through her lip in a desperate attempt to not scream, slamming her eyes shut. It was only a couple of seconds of free fall, but to her, it felt like a fucking lifetime. Emotions shot through her chest - regret, disgust, anger, self-pity, and in those couple of seconds, Rune realized that she… bit off more than she could chew.

Her hood snagged on something.

"One more chance," An amused voice - Avalon's voice - piped up, and Rune's eyes snapped open. The half-lidded hero was hovering, still as dry as a fucking desert, with his right arm extended. In his grasp was the ornery shaft of some long weapon. His spear. He had a spear.

He was holding her up by her hood, with one hand, using a fucking spear.

"What-"

"You got maybe…" Avalon tilted his head to the side, glancing down at the war-torn street below, and Rune saw the gash in the side of his scalp where she managed to tag him. "Fifteen seconds before I have to go fuck up the rest of your klansmen. Say the fuckin' phrase, bitch." His eyes flashed dangerously, and she swallowed.

What was the fucking point? What would it even prove? She could admit when she was defeated; Avalon defeated her fair and square, and proved that he, alone, was worthy of at least that much respect. He was worthy of all of her hatred and loathing too, of course, but he was strong. All niggers, though? When so many were weak, and lazy, and cowardly, and- and stole jobs…? Or were those supposed to be Mexicans?

"Five…"

Her heart shot out of her chest. "Fucking hell you crazy asshole, b-black power!"

"Four…"

"BLACK POWER! F-FUCK NAZIS!"

A mocking grin formed on the hero's previously frowning lips, and subconsciously, against her right mind, Rune distantly noted just how ridiculously attractive the man's smile was. "Good enough for now. Labere in Arcum Sapphyri! " His voice was suddenly booming and powerful as he gestured downwards with a casual flourish of his left hand.

Some sort of invisible energy pulsated outwards at his words, like electricity sparking over her skin, and Avalon yanked his spear back.

As gravity yanked her down, consuming her mind with pain and fear and confusion, the last thing Rune thought she saw was a small, sapphire-colored arch of glass, twinkling beautifully beneath the night sky, and then… nothing.

I came down on the bruised and haggard Stormtiger like a glowing comet.

It was a testament to the man's reflexes and supernatural senses that he managed to blast himself halfway across the street just in time to avoid taking the entire ten feet of my spear straight through the spine. I straightened, yanking the head of the Armament clean out of the blacktop. Trainwreck, red-faced and panting, came to a skidding halt a mere few feet away from me, his previously gleaming armor coated in dust and marred by dozens of thin, shallow claw marks. He bled freely from a gash that trailed from his nose to his ear, but he didn't seem to notice the pain, or even me - pure anger and annoyance warped his ugly visage into a scowling snarl..

"Stop fuckin' runnin' ya piece of nazi dogshit!" He roared, jerkily raising his left gauntlet. The fist had been replaced by an open-mouthed cannon, blocky and uneven, and it was glowing a deep, foreboding red.

Trainwreck is frustrated. Trainwreck is frustrated because he can't defeat Stormtiger. Trainwreck can't defeat Stormtiger because Stormtiger's aerokinesis counters-

I frowned. 'Of course.'

In the corner of my eye, I saw the nazi crouched low to the street, raising his own hands up in our direction. Wind started to blur around his palms, sending pebbles and dust flying through the air, and I quickly began channeling in Anoqeyån. Teleporting out of the way would have been child's play, but Trainwreck would still be hit. I had no intention of risking the next blade of air actually killing the dumbass.

BOOM!

His arm jerked with the recoil.

The silent shove of raw Aethyr I launched from the road, like a geyser of magical force, sent Trainwreck's cannon shot of molten shrapnel flying straight up into the sky. Immediately, I turned in the direction of Stormtiger, noting in the split second that our eyes met that the blurred wind around his hands had turned into six pale, translucent claws almost a foot long. I had only had a moment to react, but my incantation was nearly complete.

Azyr was strong and wild here beneath the storm and rain, and it hadn't been until I cast The Sapphire Arch beneath Rune did I consciously come to that realization. That strength made the arduous task of coaxing it into a focused, controlled gale equally as simple as it was hard, but I was nothing if not fucking stubborn.

" -täl senlayi leøœn!"

And I tamed it.

Thorsen's Howling Gale.

It felt as if the very atmosphere shifted beneath my fingertips.

The spell started as an ethereal, wisping white gust that drifted from my fingertips as soon as Stormtiger released his shimmering claws of air, but that gust almost immediately surged into a galeforce of screaming, magical wind. Crackles and howling filled the stormy sky, emanating from the controlled blast of destruction that I masterfully eased out of the Aethyr. Dust, debris, and chunks of cracked concrete were swept into the unbridled tempest, and a moment later, so was Stormtiger's attack.

What had originally been cast as a reactive defensive measure against wind swiftly became a blistering force of nature, and I… was all for it. Good thing we were quite far away from the Protectorate's failed convoy. Somehow I felt like killing nazis would be easier to get away with than destroying official PRT property.

To his credit, Stormtiger tried to move out of the way of the Howling Gale, but the spell was too large and too fast. The violent winds slammed into Stormtiger with extreme force, whipping his body wildly through its magical vortex like a puppet with its strings cut, and I didn't have to hear it happen to know that bones were pulverized and fractured in both the buffering winds and the flying shrapnel that buffeted his body. His broken left arm flailed and flapped as he was hurtled into the sky, dozens of meters higher than he had been previously standing.

Hell, he even eclipsed the fucking buildings.

But, as I narrowed my eyes and began walking forward in the dusty, Azyr-charged wake of my spell, I could see that he was still alive. Somehow, someway, the asshole had managed to protect his extremities from the worst of the winds - possibly by forming his own concentrated vacuum around his body to ward away the worst of the damage. Thorsen's Howling Gale was powerful, but it was also originally created as a way to blow defending enemies away from their castle walls with destructive aplomb.

It didn't really account for men who also held control over air.

He was floating back down extremely slowly, doing the best he could with his bruised and battered mess of a shirtless torso and a flopping, compound fractured left arm, but I wasn't here to give the nazis a second wind.

I was here to kill them. I'd cooled my heart to the idea the very same day I came to this world.

"… What th' FUCK was all'at, kid-?!"

"Go help the Protectorate," I interrupted the gaping Trainwreck, leaning back on the balls of my feet. A small, hooked grin pulled at my lips, and I gave my new minion a two finger salute. "I'll meet with y'all soon."

"… Feh. Fine. Hurry up 'fore Overdrive ends up crashin' into one of the 'heroes'. Crazy ass bitch." Trainwreck began jogging away with loud, cumbersome footsteps, only to pause mid-stride. "An' I coulda taken him, by the way. Fucker kept deflectin' my shots."

Was that embarrassment in the big guy's voice?

"Sure thing, bud." I tilted my head, narrowing my gaze at the wounded pussy cat. "You did good work tonight."

"… Thanks."

As Trainwreck resumed his slow retreat back to the battle happening at the wreckage of the containment vans, I kept my eyes glued on Stormtiger. He was lowering himself down towards the ground even faster now; the cape could hover and float, but he wasn't a flier - he was just a wannabe. If he moved too fast, he'd risk even more injury.

The fucker probably thought he could deflect my spells with enough power and good enough timing. Foolish, considering he was down a whole arm.

I began walking forward once again, cool and composed, but with every step I allowed my magic to bring me higher and higher into the air. The wind, though my spell had already dissipated, was still charged with remnants of Azyr. The scent of ozone was thick in the air despite no lightning having struck anywhere near the battle of Lord Street. Within moments, I was as high in the air as he had drifted down, and the difference was growing larger every second. His head followed me as I walked, and even from so far away I could see the translucent, almost glass-like blades of wind growing larger and larger around his one good fist.

We were too far away for him to nail me with his wind claws, but in this moment that was his only source of comfort.

"You can hear me, can't you Stormtiger?" I spoke into the angry wind, my voice casual, cool, and level - as if I was talking to a man right across from me. "… Boo!"

His head jerked.

BOOM!

An explosion of air shot through the sky, three huge claws of pure wind hissing and screaming as it tore the very atmosphere searching for purchase in my flesh.

I reappeared ten feet higher. The compressed air violently ruffled the back of my coat, just barely missing the heels of my boots.

"I'm guessin' you can," I snorted, gesturing above him with my finger. Mana wrenched itself from my core, coalescing into power in the skyline above Stormtiger's head. The dip was noticeable, even for my overcharged magical reserves, but I still had more than enough in the tank for the rest of the night. "You'd think your hearing was good enough to hear Death breathin' over your shoulder, then. Look up."

He twitched, more wind building over his fist, and hesitantly tilted his head back.

I witnessed the moment he realized that he was completely and utterly outclassed.

Gleaming, radiant, almost holy-looking armaments of gold twinkled in the night sky, each spear aimed directly towards the beaten nazi. Threads of raw mana warbled and arced between the rows of magical weaponry, linking them together in a manner that vaguely resembled a runic circle.

Dimly, I was slightly concerned about the random phenomenon, but put it off as my mana being chuuni.

Weapon Magic had been my first ever source of damage from the Grimoire, and we'd gotten very familiar with each other over the past couple of weeks. I had been able to summon at least a dozen when I first rolled the power, being forced behind cover by white supremacists and wondering if my first day would be my very last.

Now, though?

Over a hundred spears hummed in unison, vibrating with my own overwhelming desire to end this shitstain of a human. This shitstain of an organization.

It was only after I started to speak that I realized that I was grinning.

"You made your shitty bed when you became a fuckin' skinhead, loser. Lay in it."

I brought my finger down, and the shining spears harkened my call.

Stormtiger did try to avoid the attack, and for a second, as he tore his only good arm out of its socket by blasting all of his collected wind in the opposite direction, he actually did get out of the way.

Of the first onslaught.

He didn't avoid the second, third, or fourth.

…

It was only after I was flying back down to the rubble-strewn street, my mana constructs fading away into fractals of light, did I realize that Grimmy was offering me another mote of power. This one was… interchangeable, going from a weaker mote to a stronger one, depending on how strongly I pulled it in. Considering the other two perks I accepted recently, the charge in my soul felt fairly low, but what I sensed was very tempting.

Evil Eye (20 Minutes Till Dawn - 200/400 CP): "If looks could kill" is a common expression; for you, however, there is no 'could'. By giving a sufficiently focused look you are capable of physically harming those in your view. While this isn't too tiring to do for a moment, you'll find holding the effect for extended periods of time does hurt your eyes. As a secondary effect your vision is notably good, especially your vision in the dark.

For an additional 200 CP, your glare can be imbued with magical powers you possess. These effects are usually not the most complex feats of magic you can perform, but they are applied to those you look upon fairly continuously. Given time you can learn to mix other magics into your gaze and selectively choose which of the magics you could do that are applied.

My eyebrows raised in interest.

It would clear me out completely, leaving a certain emptiness in my chest, but…

'Heh, I've always wanted to eye-fuck a nazi to death.'

Spoiler: A/N

So, this happened. I promised you guys action, so you get some action. Rune is captured for reasons unknown in a spell. Cassie, Pod, and Sherrel have fucked off to help with Krieg, Trainwreck stalled out Stormtiger, and Avalon finished him off.

Wonder what'll happen with Hookwolf and Krieg. Any guesses?

And how will people react to the firepower Avalon let off tonight? He wanted to show force to scare villains, and he definitely did enough for PHO to latch onto with their teeth.

Guess we'll see! Next chapter is up on my , and 32 will be up on tomorrow. Remember to let me know how you feel!

Spoiler: Perks Accepted in Chapters 29/30

(First two hasn't been shown because they haven't come up yet, organically) Just You, Me, and Them (Deathloop - 400 CP):
Whether magically or technologically, you have the ability to lockdown a district or smaller area in order to trap a particular target. The lockdown is temporal, meaning time outside of the lockdown is stopped. The target is unable to escape unless they perform a certain task in order to lift the lock, whether that means destroying a pillar of magic or downloading unlock codes from a tower. While inside the lockdown, you and your allies gain a boost to your physical parameters such as reaction speed, movement speed, accuracy, strength, etc.

Timelessness (Golden Sky Stories - 300 CP): There are some things in life that don't change regardless of circumstance. A little town that remains rural despite the efforts of industrialization, a group of animal spirits that don't seem to vanish, even if people don't believe in them as much as they used to.

You are timeless - in the sense that you don't age at the same pace as the rest of the world around you. The effects of temporal magic and shifts don't seem to affect you, as if you are detached from the same time frame that the magic would otherwise affect. Be wary - immortality isn't as wonderful as it may seem, especially if the rest of the world continues to age around you.

Chapter 35

A Few Minutes Prior…

"Miss Militia, duck!"

The urgency in the young girl's voice was twofold, emanating from both her earpiece and the blood-flecked truck skidding to a sharp stop behind the stranded trio of vans. It was only the earnestness of the plea - because it certainly wasn't a command - that caused Hannah to instinctively listen and drop down into a gut-wrenching kneel. Her fractured ribcage groaned, protesting against the movement, but she fought down the agony with stone-cold determination.

She'd learned long ago that pain was, quite literally, just a figment of the weak part of the mind.

This close to Krieg, attacking him from behind as Triumph tried - and failed - to overwhelm him with concussive blasts of sound, Hannah felt like she was moving through molasses. She wasn't, not really, but the constant Shaker effect that made every movement much slower than what it would otherwise be certainly made her feel like it. The weight on her chest, pressing down against her lungs and her wounded midsection only limited her agility even more.

Krieg was infuriating to fight, more so with the vehicles too close for her to bring out the big guns. The ones that went boom.

He knew it too - it's why he was refusing to move away from the containment van.

ZAP!

As soon as her knees touched the ground, something white, fast, and electrifying shot overhead, not at all impeded by Krieg's shaker effect. She could see them in the corner of her vision, even as Krieg let out a muffled scream of pain and staggered forward - Avalon's team. What looked like a little robot was hovering over the top of the armored vehicle, its 'head' looking directly at them - directly at Krieg.

"Proposal: Stand still and die like a man, dirty nazi scum."

It could speak?!

WOOSH.

Krieg's shiny leather boots only barely whizzed by the side of her face, a jerked and instinctive kick in response to the robot's laser beam, and Hannah saw opportunity. He was strong within the range of his kinetic field, with the smallest of movements capable of causing incredible damage, but he wasn't trained. Trained in some form of boxing, for sure - her rib cage knew that better than anyone - but his movements weren't honed to a fine point. His punches hurt, his kicks were violent, but they weren't sharp.

She was Miss Militia, the woman with the guns, but this asshole would not beat her in hand-to-hand combat.

Hannah hissed away the pain and lunged for his ankle, breath coming out in harsh, restrained gasps as her arms wrapped around Krieg's lower leg. Her body flipped up immediately, legs clamping around his extended thigh like a snake constricting its prey. From one moment to the next, she went from crouching and on the defensive to trapping Krieg into a knee bar, and Hannah wasted no time in clenching her ankles and twisting her body.

Power was one thing, but balance and weight distribution was another.

They went to the ground, Krieg letting out a grunt of discomfort.

Hannah jerked his trapped leg to the side in one sharp, aggressive motion. With the rest of her body keeping everything else stubbornly in place, his knee wasn't supposed to twist.

But it did.

CRACK!

"AGHHH Y-you fucking whore!"

Grim vindictiveness cooled her veins, and Hannah managed a humorless, pain-tinged smirk through her scarf. 'That's for Collin you bastard.'

"This Pod is helping. Proposal: Move."

She was already barrel-rolling to the side before the… 'Pod' could finish its 'proposal'. The little robot flew forward at a speed that felt closer to an arrow than a human, slowing noticeably the closer it got to Krieg, and alighting itself over the nazi's kneeling form. He was trying to get up, the task infinitely more difficult with a snapped knee, and Miss Militia's left hand went for the last containment foam grenade mag-locked to her belt. The right lightly gripped her newly-formed grenade launcher.

She was tired of getting punched by Brutes.

" Zap." The robot uttered in that cold, robotic voice, right before exploding.

Correction - it didn't explode, but it certainly released a ridiculous amount of bright, buzzing electricity. Triumph, who was carefully moving around the circumference of Krieg's supposed power radius, flinched back as the darkness was suddenly lit up by God knew how many volts of electricity. Krieg screamed, but only for a few seconds - almost right after, he simply collapsed into the street, body spasming.

The electricity didn't stop.

Hannah's eyes widened, bringing her grenade launcher up to aim at the so-called 'Pod'. Halfway up, it shifted into an M16 rifle with an IR laser - the red beam trained directly on the middle of the robot's body.

" Okay, that's enough! Step away from the body or-"

Her skin tingled.

A massive howl of wind tore through the tense atmosphere like a knife through butter, sending chills down Hannah's spine. Triumph outright flinched, turning around to check their six, but she kept her eyes solely trained on the robot. Whatever Avalon was doing - whatever that man was releasing, they would have to deal with it in due time. For now, she was supposed to be securing the containment van and subduing Krieg, not allowing Avalon's pet Tinker project to electrocute him to death.

Another heartbeat passed, and Hannah exhaled a whispered sigh. Her finger pressed down on the trigger.

BAM!

Triumph's golden helmet jerked back at the crack of her rifle, his mouth instinctively opening to scream. Hanna raised her hand to stop him.

Glowing gray letters floated outwards from the machine, intermingling with the glow of silvery-white fractals that floated around its body like a shield. The bullet rattled to the ground some feet away, leaving the robot completely unharmed, but the electricity was gone. It was simply watching them now.

"Uh, what's the plan ma'am? Do we need to take it out too?" The former Ward asked, his voice doing its utmost to feign an even tone of confidence. She knew better; he had only been sworn into the Protectorate last month. These were a lot of unknown factors that he, quite frankly, wasn't prepared or ready for.

Before she could respond, Iris' voice came through her earpiece. Both of theirs, judging by the way Triumph suddenly glanced at the truck.

"84 won't attack any of you if you don't attack him first, and he listens to me. To us. He - We're not a threat to you guys. The fucking nazis are." The girl's voice was a little frustrated, Hannah noticed. She and Triumph shared a cautious glance.

"Krieg's already incapacitated. The Director said it before, Iris - nonlethal force only. We do not want to fight you and your team, but we have to do our duty as heroes. None of us are the judge, the jury, and the executioner. You know this. Krieg does not have a Kill Order, Crusader doesn't have a kill order, and neither did Alabaster. We take them in, we contain them." The words felt… odd, coming out of her mouth. Forced and rubbery. But Hannah still got them out, and did a damn good job at it too, because this was her job and what she ultimately fought for.

America was a different place than what she knew before, but it was her home. America wasn't a small, no-name Kurdish village in Turkey. America wasn't a jungle filled with landmines, barbed wire, and the corpses of her people. America wasn't perfect, but it was controlled, it was structured, and God damn it she did not want to see the streets run red with blood because new capes couldn't follow the fucking rules.

It was clear, now, that she had misjudged Avalon. Assumed him to be a kid doing what he could with powers that he didn't fully understand, all for the good of the city and himself.

But this? Killing these capes, nazis or not - and damn did she hate nazis - was not the answer. It spat in the face of democracy. Of rules, and regulations, and order.

They were in place for a reason - to avoid even more bloodshed.

She explicitly ignored the voice that whispered how killing nazis was the epitome of the American way.

The robot, 84, suddenly stirred.

Hannah kept it in her scope as it twisted its body to the right and zoomed back to Squealer's truck. They didn't let the window down or open the door to let it in; instead, it flew to the top, where a sunroof slid open, and dropped down inside. She avoided flagging the truck with her M16 and instead made her way over to Krieg's body. Triumph quickly moved to follow, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs off of his belt..

As she crouched and placed two fingers against the man's neck, duly noting the steam rising from his skin, her earpiece buzzed with Iris' voice again.

"… I can't sit here and pretend that I have the same experience or charisma that Avalon does. He's the party leader, the overpowered DPS, and I'm just the boring backline support. But, experience or not… I'm calling bullshit ! No way you're drinking that kool-aid."

Hannah paused, noticing that Triumph wasn't reacting to the girl's words - Iris was broadcasting it solely to her. For a second she debated calling it in before shaking her head. Any information she received, even off record, was valuable. "He's alive, but his pulse is weak. Move him to the blockade and get him properly contained and evaluated."

"Got it, Miss Militia. I'll be right back, stay safe."

The lion-themed cape grabbed Krieg's unconscious body, lugging it over his shoulder with ease, before jogging back towards the flashing lights of the PRT blockade. Hannah stood and briskly made her way back to where she'd placed Armsmaster's unconscious body, propped up behind the leftmost foam turret van. The rifle in her arms shivered, vibrated, before smoothly transitioning into a gleaming Colt .45 that she holstered at her side.

Iris' voice shot through her head again.

"Hookwolf's one J-Walk away from a frickin' kill order, Alabaster literally got broken out of prison four weeks ago after hanging a black couple in their own home, and Krieg is actively wearing Hitler cosplay. Like, medals and all! You're telling me that keeping monsters like that alive and on the streets is 'fair' and 'just'? To who?"

The bite and disgust in the young girl's voice stung.

It stung because she wasn't wrong, but the truth wasn't simply black and white. She wanted to raise her voice, lash back with the evidence of cape engagement SOP going to shit and the fallout of it all - the deaths and chaos that happened as a response to unnecessary escalation of force and lethality - but it felt hollow, even to her. Damned if you do, damned if you don't - but doing, at the very least, got you results if you were strong enough. Sometimes, if you had the jump, if you had the initiative and the strength, taking out your enemies permanently was the right move. Saved lives.

She knew this from personal experience. But that wasn't the way here, in this place. In this society. Especially not with the villains outnumbering the heroes two to one, and threats like the Endbringers looming overhead.

Even then, ultimately, that sounded like an excuse in the face of lynching, hate crimes, and sex trafficking. Ane excuse from the weak.

Hannah bit back a retort of subdued anger that was threatening to leak out and tossed Armsmaster's arm over her shoulder. She had to bite her lip to contain the groan of pain that wanted to escape her mouth as she lifted with her legs, slowly pulling him up alongside her. He was heavy, nothing but dead weight, but she'd dealt with worse. There was always worse.

She needed him awake again, ready and happy to lead, because she did not enjoy arguing with herself and a teenage girl about moral ethics.

"… I'm just following-"

Hannah's voice trailed off into a choked silence as a golden light suddenly lit up Lord Street.

Again.

She turned, Armsmaster groaning beneath his breath, and felt her heart almost stop at the scene before her. She barely even registered the eight-foot-tall man in scratched power armor jogging toward Squealer's truck - her eyes were only for the eerie sight further down the road, where Avalon and his teammate had been fighting the other Empire capes.

Despite the distance, she could see them quite clearly - partially due to her excellent vision, and mostly due to the bright, gleaming rows of spears hovering in the air above a battered and broken Stormtiger. Avalon was flying - no, standing on thin air, looking down at him like some sort of fairy tale prince staring down from his throne, and he was speaking. She couldn't hear him - they were too far away and the sound of rain and wind drowned out all the noise.

With her wet hair plastered to her forehead, fractured ribs broken from her fight with Krieg, and her brain's equilibrium broken from the hissed words of a frustrated young cape, Hannah… found herself too tired to unholster her Colt. Too done to threaten and scream herself hoarse at a Trump powerful enough to summon what seemed like a hundred energy constructs, each one notably capable of ending a human being with one stab.

She couldn't even fathom the amount of internal energy, if he had some sort of internal energy supply, necessary to perform such a feat and still look so… unfettered. Confident. Casual, even.

She was powerless in the face of that much power, at least without going lethal and sniping him - Avalon, as far as she was aware, showed no signs of durability capable of withstanding .50 caliber rounds. At that point, however, it would be saving a nazi's life in exchange for a teenager's. A teenager breaking the law, certainly, but also one who only wanted to be a hero.

There was neither liberty nor justice there. Just bullshit.

Hannah turned away from the golden light and slowly made her way back to the spot where they'd fought Krieg, flexing her jaw against the pain in her stomach. She didn't watch as Stormtiger died, and neither did she stop it, though she knew it was happening behind her. Heard the man in the power armor whistle, heard the 'woosh' of air as over a hundred glowing spears descended at high speeds. She just focused on moving, one foot in front of the other.

Her earpiece buzzed, and surprisingly, it wasn't Iris - it was Director Piggot, the woman's voice hoarse and angry.

"Miss Militia? Miss Militia, what is your status ? Report."

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I am safe, currently bringing an unconscious and possibly concussed Armsmaster closer to the perimeter for pickup."

There was a pause, and then: "Status on the other capes?"

Hannah paused.

"Miss Militia, I need -"

"Stormtiger and Crusader are both dead, killed in battle… by Avalon. Rune's status is unknown, but I did not see a body. She is most likely still alive."

Silence.

"… And Hookwolf?"

"He is still restrained-"

THUD.

The sound of footsteps landing lightly on the main transport van froze both her blood and her body.

"Miss Militia, finish your report."

'Not fucking now!' Hannah hissed in her mind, turning warily to regard a silent Avalon. He had his finger up to his ear, where she could see a black bluetooth earpiece glowing blue, and though it was approaching midnight and the night was dark, she could still see him - still see the cool indifference of his face, the barely visible gash on the side of his head, the way that his costume was bone-dry and spotless, as if the rain itself was afraid to touch him.

'No', she realized as nearly invisible steam drifted off of his body, disappearing into thin air, 'It's evaporating. From what…?'

The mysteries kept piling, his powers kept piling, and her nerves were about ready to pop. She adjusted her hold on Armsmaster, hand hovering - but not drawing - her pistol.

"Ava-"

"Hold on," he murmured, tilting his head, and Hannah found herself reflexively closing her mouth. His eyes - much brighter than before, she noticed - narrowed at her, and Hannah's hackles immediately raised. Her hand twitched, flinching towards the handle of the pistol, but she couldn't actively move to grab it because something suddenly flitted through her stomach. Something warm, and amazing, and slightly discomforting, but it felt so fucking good-

His eyes were glowing golden, visible even in the dark.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he said idly, waving a hand vaguely towards the debris-strewn street behind him. "We had something to accomplish, and we did it. Your ribs feelin' better?"

As he stared, another burst of warmth flooded her body, and something shifted. Her spine straightened as Armsmaster's weight became easier to manage, and Hannah's eyes widened. The headache, the fractured ribs, the scrapes and bruises from rolling and falling on the concrete - it was all gone. It felt… different from Panacea's healing - or, the little bit that she'd gotten in the past. There were no pangs of hunger or nausea or dizziness. There was only pure vitality.

Avalon's glowing, half-lidded gaze lazily shifted to Armsmaster. "He got pretty fucked up too, right? Krieg hit him with a spine-buster?"

His voice snapped her out of her inner reverie. Hannah shifted Armsmaster's arm over her shoulder, attempting to regain control over the situation. "Krieg," she began evenly, glancing behind her. Triumph was jogging back up the road to them, and some unease faded at his urgency. "Krieg injured the both of us; Armsmaster shows signs of a concussion and possibly internal damage, and I… - I feel better. Listen, Avalon…"

Hannah trailed off, internally grasping for what to say. Did she do what her instincts wanted to do and say thanks for healing her? Unfairly condemn him for them getting injured in the first place? A lecture, like he was an unruly Ward who went a little overboard with dealing with a supervillain? These were neo-nazis who ritualistically murdered and assaulted his people, and he wasn't a Ward - he was a powerful Trump that has shown more than enough 'tricks' in the past ten minutes to take her out before she could draw her gun.

She twitched her finger, purposefully this time, and watched his eyes closely.

It was blindingly fast, almost too quick to catch, but her reflexes weren't only good for shooting.

He glanced down, regarded her gun and the potentially threatening physical movement, looked back to her face, and dismissed her. All in a fraction of a second. He didn't seem even the least perturbed.

A dull, almost distant Something built in her chest. She just didn't know if it was fear, anger, loathing, or something more primal - more instinctive to a human being meeting something higher on the totem pole.

"You -"

Warm, golden light pulsated to her left.

"Ugh…"

A low, relieved groan escaped Armsmaster, and the weight pressing on her left shoulder eased up. Hannah was both relieved and, selfishly, happy when he staggered off of her and straightened himself on his own two feet. His hand clenched, raising towards the side of the van, and there was a metallic hum that shot through the darkness before his glinting Halberd tore through the air, finding purchase in his grip. His visor never turned away from Avalon.

"Miss Militia," he said hoarsely, a steel-like edge to his voice. "Sitrep."

Triumph slowed to a brisk, unsure walk as he came around to Armsmaster's other side, glancing up towards Avalon with a visible grimace on his face. "Here and ready for anything, sir."

"Miss Militia."

Hannah answered automatically. "Stormtiger and Crusader are both dead, Rune is missing, and Krieg has been incapacitated and detained with help from Iris'… Pod. There are no hostiles in the immediate area."

Avalon's lips twitched at the mention of the 'Pod', but his overall expression remained relaxed. The sight was confusing, because it brought her attention to his actual face, not just his aura. He looked different now. Breathtaking. Another power?

She hated it on principle. She should not be ogling a teenage boy on a bloodstained cape battlefield.

"… Understood." There was grit in Armsmaster's voice and a brittleness that alerted her. Something flimsier than 'anger at needless death', and much more ugly. Hannah tore her gaze away from Avalon, turning to Armsmaster, but he was already stepping forward with a clenched jaw.

"Sir-"

"Avalon, you are to return with us to Protectorate HQ pending the unlawful and unsanctioned murder of two individuals lacking the prerequisite Kill Order documentation."

"Armsmaster, do not instigate a battle with Avalon right now."

The bearded man scowled. "You won't be physically forced-"

Avalon snorted.

"-But cooperation would do nothing but help your case. These men are dead, kid. They're bad people, but laws and regulations are in place for a reason. Do yourself a favor and come quietly." Armsmaster finished without preamble, his Halberd clenched tightly in both hands. He wasn't wielding it threateningly, but combined with Triumph's squared shoulders, the language being spoken was clear.

Come with us or else you'll be in trouble. Legal trouble.

Piggot didn't say anything, and Hannah uncomfortably shifted as she kept a wary eye on the proceedings. This… this wasn't how she would've handled the situation, but she wasn't the leader here for a reason. It wasn't her call to make.

Avalon watched silently for a moment, his eyes drifting past them - to Squealer's truck. The man in power armor was still there, bulky metal arms crossed as he watched, but he seemed distracted. Hannah had a sneaking feeling that words were flying through comms.

After a second, Avalon moved, and Triumph flinched, his hands raising.

But he simply moved into a casual squat, forearms resting on his thighs and hands dangling off. He seemed completely at ease amidst the lightening rain drops and the cool wind.

"That somethin' your boss told you to tell me, big man? Or is your wounded pride telling you to get some kinda win outta this situation?"

Armsmaster's fists clenched. " I'm the leader here, and I follow the rules and standard operating procedures instilled in me. You're wanted for questioning, Avalon."

Avalon's teeth - white and gleaming - showed when he grinned. It wasn't a kind one. "Then come get me."

Heat flashed through Armsmaster's face, and his brittle countenance cracked. "Do you not understand your situation right now? The trouble you're in? You killed two-"

"Neo-nazi murderer garbage cans, yeah - I know. Me sayin' that wasn't me stroking my dick, it was me making a point. You can't make me do anything I don't want to do, but I'm actively tryna work with you here. I healed you and Miss Militia with a look."

His eyes glinted again, this time coldly, and his crooked grin turned chilling. "I can do a lot more if I use my hands. Don't do something stupid over the lives of actual human waste. There's better walls to slam your head against." The weight in his words, as if in direct contest with his casual and cool tone, was heavy, almost physically.

Armsmaster looked like he wanted to say something more, maybe even move forward to challenge what he thought to be a bluff, but the Director's tightly wound voice interrupted him. "Armsmaster, that's enough!… Miss Militia, take Avalon your spare radio. Let me speak to him."

Iris' voice, notably restrained, piped up immediately. "No need, patching Avalon throuuuuugh… now. Good luck! And, uh, maybe retire Armsbeard from negotiation duty."

"… Right. Iris. You should not be able to crack our security so easily."

Noticeably, she didn't even sound surprised at this point, just deadpan. It would've been amusing if not for the fact that Hannah was standing beneath an atmosphere charged with more than just tenseness. Armsmaster seemed almost ready to bite at the bit, which was extremely out of character for him, and Triumph genuinely didn't seem like he knew what to do. Avalon was a unique case for them; he was a Trump 8, and outside of specific missions, he was not meant to just be engaged willy-nilly. That wasn't even accounting for the others he had with him.

"True, but I wouldn't be Iris if I let this measly- Oho, what's this?… There was some shady asshole listening in from a backport not affiliated with any PRT-based IP address I could see. Gross. I just booted him out."

The Director's voice came a few seconds later, even more clipped and annoyed, but with a nugget of genuine intrigue. "A mole?" she muttered, only to call out to someone in the background, "You. Get IT off their ass; I want this supposedly 'encrypted channel' checked bottom to top. Our jobs are hard enough without some conniving bastard gathering our live intel."

"Have them check for IPv4 address: 92.168.100.1," Iris helpfully supplied, sounding awfully at ease with possibly exposing a potential PRT mole, "Looks like it came from somewhere Downtown, just not near the PRT Headquarters."

Piggot's voice was dry when she replied. "Thank you. I'm sure your familiarity with our own security system is wholly benevolent and not at all suspicious either, correct?"

"… I plead the fifth?"

Avalon tilted his head, eyes brushing over the silent Armsmaster before he pressed his finger against his earbud again and interrupted the interrogation before it started. "Miss Piggot," he said coolly, standing upright with all the ease of a lion stretching its limbs, "Nice to finally speak to the woman in charge. You sure you want your men here instead of helpin' with the shitshow in the Docks?"

"It's Director Piggot, Avalon," the Director coldly replied, her tone business-like and flat once again, "And my agents cannot leave without securing the prisoner. Even still, the situation is being taken care of. My biggest problem right now, ironically enough, is you . What exactly are you playing at?"

His index finger tapped once, twice, against his thigh, and a smile formed on his face. Hannah noted that it held no real emotion. "Right, my bad - Southern habits. I'm not playing at anything, though - life and death isn't a game, and I'm not treating this like one. I already told Miss Militia; we had something to accomplish here, and that was eliminating the capes participating in this ambush. The next step is doing the same to ol' Hookwolf, who just so happens to be your prisoner." He tapped the toes of his boots against the roof of the van, and it made a dull ringing noise.

"You want us to surrender our prisoner over to you so that you can commit an execution." Piggot surmised blankly, and a snort rippled through the comms. "Out of the question, Avalon. You've committed three counts of extrajudicial killings tonight alone , and are actively declaring your intent to commit another. You have no right ."

"That a morals thing or a lawful thing?" Avalon queried, his deep voice cool in the face of the Director's vehemence.

"… On record? Both ."

It was his turn to snort.

"Off record, I enjoy the presence of super powered neo-nazi domestic terrorists in my city as much as the next patriotic American, but that does not give me carte blanche to do whatever the hell I want. There's a chain of command for a reason, methods and procedures for handling threats the way we handle them. All things that you would be privy to if you work with us. "

There wasn't desperation in the Director's voice, per se, but there was a certain amount of passion there - not one formed by force of personality or charisma, but a more raw and angry energy that laid everything out to bare; the fact that she was just one woman in charge doing what she could with a significant lack of resources. Hannah felt her respect for the Director grow, if only slightly, and she already held a decent amount for the surly woman.

"I don't mind working with you," Avalon admitted freely, turning his gaze down towards them again - Hannah, Armsmaster, and Triumph. "But that's not what you want, not really. I can tell. You want me to work for you, get bogged down by the same red-tape bullshit and procedures and rules and PR ass-kissing that you do, and that simply isn't happening."

The passion dulled, turning to a razor-sharp point. "You're powerful, Avalon, but a lot of capes are. A lot of capes are also arrogant, short-sighted, and selfish, and you are showing these exact same traits. That sort of recklessness gets people killed . You are not-"

"Powerful enough to 'take on the world'? To handle the fallout of escalating against the Empire?"

She didn't respond, and Avalon continued unimpeded, his voice rising from a dark, smooth murmur to a louder, more resonant bass that vibrated her ears, sent chills down her spine that had nothing to do with the lingering drizzle of cool rain.

"If I can't take on the world tonight, give me a few more months, but the Empire? Kaiser and the remnants of his cowardly 'army'? It's already over for them, and neither you nor them realized it yet. It's barely been two weeks since I've triggered and I have more power in my pinky and a wink than the leader of the Empire Eighty-Eight has in his whole body, and I grow every single day. I'm growing right now, even as I'm forced to speak politics with you instead of hunting down Purity and the others. They can't stop me, and neither can you. You're wasting both of our time."

…

And there it was - the line in the sand. An uneasy silence stilled the air, and Avalon's gaze didn't stray away.

Hannah glanced back at his entourage, noting that the man in power armor was no longer standing outside of the truck - at some point during the conversation he had disappeared, possibly moving back into the boot of the vehicle. She couldn't see through the tinted windows, but the truck was still on, rumbling and vibrating softly. If push came to shove, she felt that she would be able to get multiple shots off on the windshield - she would just need a stronger gun.

In a shimmering of green energy, the Colt in her holster turned into a Smith and Wesson Model 500. In the corner of her eye, Hannah saw her two comrades subtly preparing themselves for a confrontation as well.

Honestly, she just hoped that push would not come to shove.

"… Do I take that as a threat to my personnel? Is that where you plan to take this?" Director Piggot's voice was level again, almost dead in its inflection. Hannah could imagine that she'd muted her headset to shout orders at a whole squad of agents, preparing them for the worst-case scenario in this stand-off.

His eyes drifted towards her own, meeting them completely. Hannah didn't know what he saw in her gaze - she was just tired and utterly spent even though he healed her injuries. It was more mental fatigue than anything physical - she needed time to adjust to everything she'd seen tonight.

They held eye contact for only a moment before Avalon nodded, as if to himself. His voice lowered again, and he turned away, showing them his back.

"You can take it however you want to, Piggot. I'll say it like this - the Empire crumbles, if not tonight then over the next couple of days. That's non-negotiable. I got no beef with the PRT, whatsoever, but if you move to actively bar me from doing what should've been done a long ass time ago, then I will put your operatives on their ass and send 'em packing. You get me?"

Armsmaster started forward, his eyes visibly bloodshot beneath his visor, and Hannah moved without thinking. In a blur of movement, she stood directly in front of the man, one hand holding him back against the chest and the other facing an agitated Triumph. Her dark gaze narrowed. "Hold." she hissed, giving her leader a disappointed glare. "Trust the Director."

She knew he could barrel past her in an instant, especially with his armor, but her interference seemed to settle something in his mind. Armsmaster stilled, shoulders tense, and Hannah lowered her hands.

Avalon hadn't even turned back to look.

A sudden dull ringing suddenly cut through the thick silence, and it took Hannah palming her pocket to realize that it was coming from her earpiece, from the Director's side.

Her tone was bitter when she spoke. "… Transport team, keep an eye on Avalon and his partners. No one leaves the area. I've got to take a call." Before they could say anything, there was an abrupt 'click' and the ambient noise from Piggot's headset became silent.

Triumph, predictably enough, was the first one to speak up. The boy crossed his arms over his chest, glancing from the silent Armsmaster up to the relaxed Avalon. "So what's the point in all this? To show that you're all big and bad? Above the law?" Despite his word choice, there was a genuine curiosity in Triumph's voice, as well as a healthy amount of caution.

He visibly tensed when Avalon turned to look at him.

"Sorta," he replied, taking a step forward. Only, he didn't just take a step forward. From one second to the next, Avalon disappeared from the back end of the van and faded into existence at the very front, looking down at them. His hands were in the pockets of his fashionable black coat.

"Don't really care 'bout showing off for the sake of it, but sometimes you gotta make people realize that they just don't want the smoke. Empire's done for, I am the executioner there, and the people in this city who have lost family and friends to their violent and sadistic ways? Well, they're gonna be the judge and jury."

Hannah frowned, but it was a considering one. "You're saying that the public's going to be on your side if this becomes a PRT vs you scenario," she stated, resting her hand on her Smith and Wesson. It was more for comfort than anything else.

He shrugged. "Probably. They don't know me, don't know everything I can do. I wouldn't be surprised if they doubt whether I can back up what I've done here."

"And that doesn't make you nervous at all?" Hannah asked. In the case of the Director pressing things and declaring Avalon a potential villain, PR would be his bargaining chip and lifeline. She wasn't the greatest when it came to politics - honestly, Hannah outright hated them - but she knew that much.

Avalon's response was simple. "I know myself and what I can achieve more than anyone else. Thankless or not, fake ass 'PRT scapegoat' or not, I'm gonna keep doing me." He smiled a devil-may-care smile, his entire countenance relaxed in the face of potential adversity. "I'm just tryna keep your priorities straight."

Triumph shook his head as the tension in the atmosphere slowly, but surely, lowered. "You are insane, man… but for what it's worth, thank you for your assistance here. And, I guess, healing Miss Militia and Armsmaster." The former Ward glanced over to them, brow furrowed, and Hannah felt a wave of embarrassment. "Don't know if they said it."

"It's chill," Avalon waved his hand dismissively. "I should've kept an eye on-"

"Avalon." There was something different in Piggot's voice now; an icy, steel-like frigidity that held absolutely no yield or flexibility.

The man paused, and Hannah saw his smile flicker with a new emotion for only a second. Smugness? Victory?

"Yo."

"… Legally and publicly, we cannot endorse or approve of the unlawful killing of Empire capes lacking a kill-order. For a multitude of reasons, the biggest of which pertains to the fragile balance between the major gangs in the city, we also cannot freely issue kill-orders to every cape under Kaiser's payroll." Every word sounded stilted, as if it was taking an inordinate amount of will to keep her voice neutral.

Avalon made a noise in between a grunt and a hum, tilting his head up towards the night sky.

Distantly, Hannah heard the sound of vehicles moving, voices shouting out commands. She looked back and saw the half a dozen or so PRT vans pulling away from the perimeter and driving away from Lord Street. They kept the traffic cones and metal barricades up, halting anyone stupid enough to drive into a battle zone, but they were definitely leaving. Only a few seemed to stay behind - possibly back-up for the convoy, and the drivers who'd retreated once it was obvious that the foam turrets weren't effective.

The others noticed it too. Armsmaster's frown turned into a scowl.

"New directives have come in from the Chief Director-"

"Director, this is not fair-"

"Shut up , Armsmaster, nothing in this damn city is fair ! Ahem. New directives have come in from the Chief Director, ordering the PRT to take a defensive role in the next few days - starting with cleaning up after Purity's mess in the Docks. That will be our main priority. Lung will not accept his territory being so brazenly assaulted, and the ABB will be hankering for blood."

"And the Empire?" Avalon ventured, giving the incensed Armsmaster a bemused look.

"… The PRT will be taking on a defensive role in the next few days. The lives of the Empire's parahuman force are not a priority in the case of a non-PRT affiliated cape attacking them in costume, as long as the non-powered members are properly apprehended and civilians are not harmed in any way." It almost sounded like she was reading off of a piece of paper.

Hannah's eyes widened. In other words, the PRT would leave Avalon alone as long as he did what he claimed he could do in the next three or four days. After that, they would no longer be able to play defense mode in the Docks - reasonably, it wouldn't take more than a few days for them to calm down. Lung was the definition of a sleeping dragon - when angered he often acted recklessly in bursts, with his gang acting accordingly to their boss's mood.

The PRT was giving ground, and placing a lot of trust in one new cape and his team. Hannah doubted she could come up with anything better. She didn't even know if she would've wanted to.

Kaiser and his ilk were a scourge upon everything about the American way, and if Avalon could do what he said and take them out completely, all without pulling the citizens of Brockton Bay in his path… then why stop him? Especially with the Chief Director green-lighting it. If he could do what they could not, if he had that sort of power…

Avalon breathed out a low sigh. "Fine, I hear you. And Hookwolf?"

"The Chief Director emphasized that the Empire capes already in custody are not to be touched. Krieg will be investigated for suspected close ties to a… certain organization and is likely to be sentenced to the Birdcage, and Victor is a non-issue."

He paused at that, his neutral lips pulling down into a frown, before he shrugged. One moment he was standing on the containment van, and the next he was on the ground, standing before the three haggard heroes. "I'm not unreasonable… I can agree on that."

Piggot's frigid voice gained a trace of sardonism. "No more refusals or caveats?"

Avalon chuckled in amusement, casually making his way back towards Squealer's trucks. He didn't even spare the glowering Armsmaster a sideways glance. "Nah. Not like they're gonna have anyone to bust 'em out after I'm done."

"… Right. Transport team, report back to HQ immediately for further assignment. The convoy will continue with additional security."

Hannah could have shouted in relief if she was a more emotionally charged woman. Instead, she shared a wry smile with Triumph and moved to grab her motorcycle from where it had been discarded on the side of the road once shots went off.

"Understood, Director."

"Heard!"

"… Affirmative."

VROOOM!

Wheels squealed as Squealer peeled off down the street, and Hannah fought the urge to look back. Instead, she straddled the rain-slicked leather of her seat and gestured for Triumph to hop on back. "Let's get outta here. Don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to changing clothes."

The teenager snorted, offering a half-amused smile at her attempt at humor. "I get the feeling-"

A much quieter squeal of rubber on blacktop cut him off, and they both watched as Armsmaster's dark blue motorcycle sped away, narrowly twisting around the bumper of one of the new vans. The PRT agents moving up to take over the convoy paused and watched him make his exit, and a couple of them began muttering to each other even as they brought new tires out the trunk to replace the ones Victor shot.

Triumph hesitantly continued, "I get the feeling that Armsmaster isn't too happy with how things went…"

Hannah smiled, but it was a grim one - humorless.

"He'll get over it. Things in the city are changing, and you either adapt and roll with the punches or get left behind. Armsmaster's a good man. Talented tinker, too."

"Yeah, I guess."

And as she switched the engine on and maneuvered through the barricade, ignoring the splattering of rain that soaked into the bottom of her pants and ceaselessly fell against her head, Hannah allowed a nugget of doubt to peek into her mind.

There was a reason why she hadn't included 'skilled leader'.

She could only hope that he could resolve whatever ugliness he held in his heart, because the battlefield wasn't a place for grudges and envy.

Avalon wasn't the type of man to entertain it, either.

It was only halfway back to the Rig did Triumph suddenly yelled a question into her ear, pure confusion coating his voice.

"Uhh, what did he do with Rune?! We never asked!"

Hannah nearly swerved out of the left lane.

"… Bring that up in the AAR meeting!"

Spoiler: A/N

Sorry for the wait, was worrying over this chapter for a while. I know some people are not going to be happy with choices made or whatever, but Avalon wasn't backing down, and Piggot is fucking stubborn too.

It ended when the Chief Director got involved. After all, why protect the group of neo-nazis with pretty strong capes and lose a powerful and quickly-growing Trump when you can just… keep the Trump? They can't publicly endorse him or even make it seem as if they're okay with what he's doing, so they're using the E88 pissing off Lung to 'focus' their attentions and give him the space to do what he needs to do.

I think it was a realistic compromise that doesn't bash the PRT or anything, but let me know what you think!

400 CP remaining, two perks declined due to lack of CP.

Next chapter is up on , and chapter 33 will be up either tonight or tomorrow! Been working on brainstorming a Naruto fic and dealing with irl work so things have been a bit messy mentally.

Chapter 36

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Topic: Fall of the Empire

In: Boards News Organizations America Brockton Bay

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Posted On Feb 4th 2011:

The title is only slightly click-bait, folks. I'm still vetting my sources to add to the thread, but we're possibly looking at something big, and Avalon is the start of it all.

If you live anywhere close to the I-89 exit Downtown, you'll know exactly what I mean. Looks like our resident new rising star decided that things were a little too quiet for his tastes after bagging Hookwolf. As a result, he's made the executive decision to take the hurt to the Empire themselves… by straight up killing three of their capes during what looked to be the Empire's attempt to bust Hookwolf out of containment.

Yes, you read that right. Killing. Deaded. Vamooshed.

Crusader, Stormtiger, and Alabaster were killed with various powers, some of which have not been shown by Avalon before, and to make matters even more crazy - he's apparently running with a team, too. The media I have is only a part of the battle, starting from when the PRT was shot at by what we know was Victor with a sniper rifle.

Obvious warning is obvious: There's blood and dead bodies here, so be advised. I'm not breaking any rules by posting this, but I want to cover my ass.

[TinkertechTruck.jpg]

[ManInPowerArmor.jpg]

[PRTPinnedDown.jpg]

[FinalBossAvalon.mp4]

You can see for yourself in the video above - thank you to @ Brocktonite03 for sharing the footage, but screw you for recording it vertically. I hope you're staying safe, man.

The three neo-nazis killed tonight weren't the only ones involved here, either. Victor and Krieg were captured off-camera, and word on the street is that the same convoy holding Hookwolf was last seen heading out to wherever the hell Birdcage escorts are taken, so chances are he's gone for good. I have no idea what happened to Rune, other than what we saw on camera - Avalon quickly incapacitated her, forced her to yell something out, and then captured her in what appeared to be a glass archway? [GlassArch.jpg]

Regardless, considering she didn't show up for the rest of the battle, it's safe to assume that she's captured as well.

This is all in one night, people. Three of the Empire's parahuman force captured, and three slain, all done either by Avalon's hands or by proxy of him being there just in the nick of time. They have, like, what… six capes left, assuming Purity, Night, and Fog are back terrorizing minorities under Kaiser's orders? That's half of their group, cut in half in one fucking evening.

I'm supposed to go out drinking with my wife tonight so I can't add much more, but I want to be the first one to speak up about the elephant in the room:

Yes, Avalon killed three men.

Yes, Avalon 'escalated' the situation from your standard 'prison break' scenario.

Yes, things are going to get crazy for a while.

But, and take this as MY opinion, I Do Not Care. As a man who, everyday, fears for his life, the life of his black wife, and the life of his unborn daughter… thank you, Avalon. There's so much I could say here, but just thank you will have to suffice until I can buy you a beer. I'm rushing to finish writing this thread as I screw up tying my tie, but I needed to be the first one to post about this situation before someone else flies in and paints this hero out to be the bad guy.

The fewer neo-nazis on the street the cleaner they get in my eyes.

Remember to stay safe, stay strong, and keep believing that things will get better. Brockton Bay is six powerful, white supremacist villains freer than it was yesterday. Things may seem scary, but that's because we've gotten so used to living beneath a status quo of fear, subservience, and ignorance.

Maybe I'm getting more emotional in my old age, but something is moving in my chest and it sure as hell isn't the flu. I got vaccinated last month.

Bagrat, signing out.

PS: Click [HERE] for Avalon's Fan Thread, and [HERE] for his Wiki Entry. It's actively being updated by @ Valkyr while I'm out tonight.

(Showing page 1 of 53)

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

First.

Well… holy shit. I'll share my side before this thread inevitably blows up:

I work a lotta different jobs to keep busy, and one of them had me at the Pilor Resort last night. I was mopping on one of the upper floors when one of the loudest gunshots I've ever heard went off above me. Like any reasonable human being, I went for cover near the window and took out my phone to call the cops.

I didn't have to call them because the PRT were the ones getting shot at, so I ended up just recording it. You can see how that went.

I'm still blinking dark spots out of my eyes from Avalon letting that fuck-off laser beam rip, but I'm back at home safe and sound now with my cats. Paid leave. So feel free to ask me any questions you have while I'm still awake and not in an alcohol-induced coma. I've seen some shit tonight, man.

@ Avalon can't blame you for out-murdering the murderous nazis, but did your driver really have to turn Alabaster into meat confetti?? That's gonna be stuck in my brain for months.

Thatdude

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

first

Thatdude

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

FUCK dude how did you type that fast

nvm, who gives a fuck LETS FUCKING GO AVALON!!! i fucking knew he was the chosen one man i told my grandma, literally told her he wasnt fucking w them nazi bitches being in OUR city killing OUr ppl

fucking kill them all dude.

Deimos

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Heard the fight from like three blocks away while walking my dog. Went STRAIGHT the opposite fucking direction.

I don't even know what's going on anymore. First Purity strafing beams down the Docks, Night and Fog coming back, and now Avalon's throwing the gauntlet down and killing capes. Is there about to be a gang war? Do I need to move back to Boston??

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Deimos This city's my home and I'm not going anywhere, but I'd understand if you took a vacation or something while shit hit the fan. I doubt the ABB's going to just sit back and accept their turf getting shat on like that, and Avalon doesn't seem like the type to just let things rest after a move like this.

Like Bagrat said, just stay safe man.

Chaosfaith

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

the fucking mad man actually did it. i genuinely thought hookwolf was a one time thing since he was the one who attacked avalon. this looked planned, though - see how they drove in at the perfect time to hit alabaster?

[screenshot1.jpg]

just… fucking hell. who's he moving with? do we know the ugly guy in the power armor, or the person driving the truck? I'm so lost.

Deadman

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Good fucking riddance, about time someone with balls humbled those arrogant fucktards. And of course the PRT was barely able to mop up the leftovers. Smfh

Lolitup (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

I don't give a shit about the actual murderers dying, call me an evil bitch all you want, but I AM curious about these new powers. @ Bagrat didn't give us many details.

Are we finally respecting Avalon? He can freaking FLY, punch through stone, fire lasers that rival Purity's (link to Purity's feat thread [here]), and none of you are talking about that fucking anime ass golden spear attack he did on Stormtiger towards the end.

I am freaking out right now. He's so fucking BADASS.

@ Chaosfaith Looks like some sort of combat tinker with arm cannons. Check 3:43, Stormtiger kept deflecting his shots back but he's definitely shooting something hot and sharp. The pipes on his back are blowing steam, too.

Deimos

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Brocktonite03 Nah, I'm going to hold out. I grew up here too. I just don't like how this feels. Like something big is happening and we're in the blast zone.

@ Deadman Fuck off with your edgy anti-authority bullshit, the PRT was clearly taken by surprise by the Empire squad. Whoever was driving that truck barely avoided hitting Armsmaster and the other fucking heroes. The Protectorate's doing the best they could with what they had.

Avalon was out of line here and I stand by that, string me up if you want. Cool powers but the dude's too much of a wildcard.

winged_one

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Hello,

I am not from Brockton Bay but I have been following threads about Avalon for a while now, and I am a big fan. He is a very interesting Parahuman. Is he in trouble for this?

Thank you.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3… 51, 52, 53

(Showing page 2 of 53)

XxVoid_CowboyxX

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Anyone notice how Rune was the only nazi he saved? after he made her yell something we cant hear and toyed with her like a freaking cat playing with a mouse? plus that archway thing where he captured her for unknwon reasons

theres something there! I've been trying to tell ppl, Avalon isn't just a normal hero. He has PLANS. BIG PLANS. And seducing parahuman women is part of it!!

my mom made an account to follow him on here and she HATES capes. this is bullshit

FlippinMad (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

I don't know about looking at the video with nazis dying or whatever but can some1 send me the new screenshots of Avalon in DMs please???

Lolitup (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ FlippinMad I got you, check the FC group chat.

@ xxVoid_Cowboyxx You are weird. Don't make claims about Avalon 'seducing' anyone, let alone an underage girl, without knowing anything about him.

Deadman

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Deimos How about you fuck off and go choke on the Director's clit? I've had homies DIE to these racist assholes, good guys who didn't want shit to do with superpowers or 'gang wars'. Guys who used to just throw dice on the corner for spare cash. Dead and fucking gone because some Empire asshole wanted to shank a person of color for some gang rep.

They shoulda been wiped out years ago. The Protectorate can't handle shit by themselves so it's about time someone steps in and wipes their ass for them. It's just too bad he didn't execute Hookwolf and Krieg on the fucking spot.

Fuck the PRT and fuck you.

Whitecollar (Cape Wife)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Extrajudicial killings are unlawful for a reason, people. Don't let the shiny powers and handsome face distract you from the fact that Avalon and his 'team' straight up killed three capes tonight, and we have NO idea what their overall goals are. At what point are we just condoning vigilantism and street executions for the sake of vengeance and justice? Where is the line drawn?

Can we get an official PRT statement on this before the thread descends into juvenile name-calling and slander?

AvalonFan82 (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Tin_Mother (Head Admin)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ AvalonFan82 Take an infraction. No spamming.

@ xxVoid_Cowboyxx You've been warned before: Do not spread unproven rumors or conspiracies about heroes, Void. Take an infraction.

@ Everyone Keep to the topic at hand. The thread about Avalon's supposed powers are here: [LINK]

ImpishDelight

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Whitecollar sounds about white! LMAO

try talking when you can't walk to school without ugly ass skinheads staring you down like a piece of meat. mfs will follow you to the fking bus stop and laugh when you get scared. freaks

@ Avalon if youre reading this you should totally text me at Removed by Tin_Mother

i'd make a badass sidekick hehe

Skinhead_88 (Banned)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

You cut off three heads we just grow them back. Do you really think our glorious Leader is going to be backed into a corner by a fucking dirty Removed by Tin_Mother

User Banned by Tin_Mother

Reason: Racial slurs and general disgusting behavior.

Reave (Verified PRT Agent)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

I was on site for this clusterfuck, and I have full permission from Director Piggot to lay out some facts for those worrying about the events that have transpired here.

While we do not condone the unlawful killing of Alabaster, Stormtiger, and Crusader, we will not be pressing down on Avalon from a legal standpoint anytime soon, if at all. There are too many things to worry about right now for us 'good guys' to actively be fighting against each other, like the literal fire raging in the Docks from Purity, Night, and Fog's attack against the ABB. The PRT is not affiliated with Avalon, and furthermore will not corroborate any further premeditated attacks against the Empire 88 while we work to contain the shitshow in the Docks.

That isn't to say that we are going hands-off with the Empire 88, but Avalon's MO is NOT our MO. We do not act above or below the law - we follow it, because to do otherwise introduces a hundred other problems that we could not have possibly accounted for.

Avalon, if you do read this - take it from me, as an agent that has been working his ass off in service to the greater good for years: Slow down, breathe, and fully think about what it is you're doing. Chopping down the root of evil isn't something anyone can do overnight.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4… 51, 52, 53

(Showing page 3 of 53)

Deadman

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Cut and dry milksop bitch response by the suits, fan-fucking-tastic.

@ Deimos You wanna keep riding their dicks or you finally ready to admit that the PRT are the weakest gang in the city?

Dawgsmiles (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Is the situation in the Docks even that bad? You'd think you guys would capitalize on this opening and actually make some high-profile arrests while the iron's hot…

Mousiest_Protector (Unverified Cape)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

MMMMM…

the bay is getting vrrryyyyyy spicy ;] idk what ur feeding the new capes over there, but momma likeys!

Avalon (Verified Cape) (Actually Him) (Leader of Invictus)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Reave I ain't reading all that

I'm happy for u tho

Or sorry that happened.

Anyways, logged on to say this: DM @ Iris if you're having any neo-nazi or ABB troubles. We're cleaning shit up tonight.

Avalon out.

Tin_Mother (Head Admin)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

… @ Avalon Do I even want to ask about your tags? Who approved of these?

Valkyr (Wiki Warrior)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Avalon Invictus???? Is that your team name???? How many powers do you have? Who is @ Iris?! Who else is on your team?!?!

I NEED TO UPDATE THE WIKI!

Brocktonite03 (Veteran Member)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Well god damn, hello @ Avalon. Hope you're having an… eventful night? Don't know why it's so surprising to see you post. We were able to tag you, so obviously you had an account

What do you mean you're cleaning the streets, though?

Lolitup (Cape Groupie)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

WAIT WAIT WAIT. @ Avalon Are you out patrolling right now? Like, at 2 AM? What part of the city are you in right now?

Lady Photon (Leader of New Wave) (Verified Cape) (Verified Mom)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

The entirety of New Wave is out patrolling right now, @ Avalon. Though we are affiliated with the PRT, we are still our own independent hero organization. If you're performing street-level patrols and sticking to nonlethal with the non-parahuman criminals, we would like to join forces with you and your team and assist with the cleanup. I'll have @ Glory Girl message your partner.

You've done good work.

winged_one

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

Hello,

@ Avalon You are interesting. I am a big fan.

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 51, 52, 53

(Showing page 4 of 53)

Bagrat (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

At dinner with the wife. Saw that Avalon posted, almost choked on my food. She's mad at me for being on my phone.

Why the hell couldn't you break your silence when I was free?!

AvalonFan82 (Cape Groupie) (Suspended)

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon @ Avalon

WE STAND BEHIND AVALON AND INVICTUS! WE STAND BEHIND AVALON AND INVICTUS! WE STAND BEHIND AVALON AND INVICTUS!

User Suspended by Tin_Mother

Reason: You've been warned.

SGB

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

@ winged_one Did you see what he did to Stormtiger? They're not going to fucking touch him with a ten foot pole. Guy's like a juiced-up video game character that gets stronger every time he fights, and he seems to be fighting quite a lot. No wonder he's doing their jobs for them.

CarpeDiem

Replied On Feb 4th 2011:

im just fucking happy he's on our side. brockton bay needed another heavy hitter for the good guys!!

End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… 51, 52, 53

His eyes roamed the assortment of tabs opened up on his laptop's browser. There were other threads, of course. The denizens of the internet were ridiculously active online, ridiculously nosy online, and ridiculously brave… once again, online. He saw threads like Avalon: Vigilante or Savior?, Avalon VS Kaiser - Who Wins?!, Avalon Dogwalks E88 Stooges, Avalon & Invictus: New Hot Team-

Avalon x Purity Fanfic Suggestions…

Max wanted to throw the whole damn thing out the damn window and rip Downtown to pieces with pillars of steel.

But throwing a temper tantrum was juvenile. It was unbecoming. It wasn't him.

Instead, he allowed himself a moment to breathe and ruminate on the after-effects of his most recent failure. It had been an overreach of significant proportions, he'd be the first to admit. Hookwolf was important to his organization and one of the strongest Lieutenants he had, and losing him had originally been unacceptable - especially when he took into account just who he'd lost to.

Avalon. Just repeating that boy's name in his own head made his blood pressure rise.

The new cape was strong and skilled, ridiculously so, and if he had been any flavor of white then the Empire would have snatched him up in a heartbeat. Only, he was a black kid, and a proud one at that. He was the antithesis of everything the Empire 88 stood for, and although that did not necessarily diminish his power or skill in Max's eyes, it definitely did in the eyes of his organization at large. The Empire was built on the bones and suffering of the colored folk, carefully and painstakingly created by his father before him, and who was he to rip up what worked?

White people loved hearing about how much better they were than others. Arrogance and pride ran blood deep in his family, and Max didn't think that he managed to avoid all of the prejudice propaganda fed to him since he was a baby. The blacks were notoriously ghetto and noisy, the spics were good at yardwork and jumping borders, and the Asians were apparently sex traffickers, so they were clearly the ones fucking up their own reputation. When everything lined up so seamlessly, even if he didn't truly believe as strongly as his father and sister did, why wouldn't he take the easy way to the top and perpetuate those beliefs?

It kept everyone fat and happy with delusions of superiority beneath his rule, which was all that mattered.

Avalon's fate was supposed to have been sealed alongside Hookwolf's arrest. They'd break him out, as they did the other two times he'd been captured, and spend the next few weeks hunting down this new cape, feeling him out and getting a good grip on how he operated and where he patrolled. Before he could truly make a name for himself past what nailing Hookwolf managed to garner him, they'd move in - fast, strong, overwhelming - and crush him like the bug he ultimately was.

Individually, he was strong. Against an entire Empire, he was nothing.

At least, that's what Max had thought.

He had dedicated an entire squad, roughly half of his active parahuman force, to retrieving Hookwolf in the off chance that Avalon intervened. It had been a decent plan - a good plan, with Purity, Night, and Fog dividing the Protectorate's attention. The boy hadn't shown any sort of Thinker ability back when he had fought Hookwolf, so how was he supposed to know that he would show up just in the nick of time? How was he supposed to know that the kid had apparently grown in leaps and bounds in like five days, gaining the ability to fly and summon hurricanes at will?

His eyes returned to the laptop, and Max clicked back to the video of the fight. The footage was blurry due to the zoom, and nothing could be heard past the cameraman's frightened breathing, but none of that mattered at all. He played that one clip again.

Golden spears lit up the sky like the weapons of a vengeful angel, and Avalon stood above it all, arrogant in the way that he looked down at Stormtiger. He gestured down, and the spears - over a hundred, conjoined by rippling lines of energy - descended with righteous fury.

His jaw clenched, and despair gnawed at his heart. He had to think. He had to recover. He had to win-

"Max," Kayden's voice, hesitant but resolute in that juxtaposing way that would have normally amused him, pulled him out of his thoughts. Before he could properly shush her, she quickly pushed on. "I- no, we've done as you've asked. Regardless of whether your plan was successful or not, I… I want what you promised me. I want your legally-bound and documented word that you leave Aster in my care permanently, no loopholes or backdoors. I've emailed you the documents already."

Anger immediately overwhelmed the flagging anxiety in his heart, but Max knew how to walk, talk, and play the game - intimately. He hid his frustration behind a cold, yet charming smile, leaning back just enough to steeple his hands in front of his chin. Kayden was standing - he'd removed the seats from in front of his desk for this exact meeting - with her arms crossed over her decently sized chest.

It was a defensive tactic.

She was uncomfortable with simply standing there with her arms flaccid at her side, watching him lounge back and recline in his expensive leather chair, so she crossed them over her chest in a failed attempt to seem more assertive and dominant. Her eyes were staring at a place between his own cool blue gaze and the chiseled slant of his nose - meaning she felt intimidated by his presence, all things he already knew.

As much as she tried to seem in control, Max knew the truth. Kayden was desperate. He was the one who had what she wanted. He was the only one who could give it to her. And although he had failed tonight, she had just ruined nearly two years of 'independent hero work' helping him out.

She had no chips to play with, and he had everything.

"Kady," he murmured, sounding the perfect mixture of frustrated and aggrieved, "I think we're both well aware of the situation I've found myself in tonight. Do you truly wish to hammer it in by forcing me to sign away my rights as a father as well? The same night I've come so close to losing what we've both worked over a decade to build?"

He had always been an amazing actor and gaslighter. If it wasn't for the fact that he owned a multi-million dollar company and a lucrative criminal enterprise beneath it, Max probably would have given being an actual superstar a genuine attempt. As it stood, his life's goal of being an Emperor of Man was better achieved via neo-nazism and bloodshed than movie roles and sports cars.

Kayden, of course, fell for it hook, line, and sinker, an almost heartbroken sound of hopelessness being swallowed down into a displeased grunt. The halogen lights streaming down from his ceiling made her chocolate brown eyes almost glint with barely restrained emotion. "I told you-" she licked her lips, taking a step forward. "I told you that the plan was too risky, Max! You should've known-"

"Known what, Kayden?" he rebutted, head angled downwards to darken his face with shadows. His lips were frowning, but he resisted the urge to scowl in anger. "That this 'Avalon' boy would have a team of Tinkers ready and prepared in three short days? That they would possess the ability and stomach to kill three of my men in front of the PRT? You and I both know that is unfair."

BAM!

Her hands, so small and pale, slammed into the varnished wood of his office desk, misplacing a few sheets of paperwork. Calmly, Max moved the documents back into their proper spot.

"Then you have Rune and a few others cause trouble some other place! Screw up traffic, make the heroes sweat trying to contain all of us attacking from separate angles! Night and Fog could have disabled the Protectorate heroes guarding the van much faster, and Night's speed would have made her a better counter to Avalon's teleportation. You fucked up here, Max, not me."

His lips pulled back into a smile, one that he carefully angled to come off as both pained and prideful. He knew her, quite possibly more than she knew herself in ways - he was, after all, the one who cultivated the biggest part of her personality outside of being a desperate, single mother. Giving away too much humility and shame would only make her clam up and get defensive, correctly assuming him to be manipulating the conversation, but being too cold and stony would garner much the same reaction.

He had to thread it in carefully while keeping her passions inflamed. He needed her angry and upset, not cool and shut-off. She became almost impossible to mold that way.

"As pained as I am to admit it…" Max began, looking towards the polished window she'd flown in. In its reflection, he could see her glaring at him, shoulders moving up and down with barely restrained emotion. "You're right. You've always been the more… strategically inclined of the two of us, Kady. I should have listened to you before barking orders, but neither of us was in the right headspace. You were upset to even be speaking to me, and I've been… stressed. Stressed, holding onto the remnants of ou-… my glorious Empire, alone."

All lies. He'd simply overextended grotesquely, underestimating Avalon's power, and he doubted Kayden's plan would have worked. But that wouldn't happen again. He simply needed to reassess the situation, figure out the best way to take this one super-powered roadblock down so that the rest of his businesses could prosper.

Her shoulders were starting to sag.

He chanced another glance at her, forcing a badly-hidden fragility to his face that he certainly wasn't feeling in that moment, and naked confusion and hurt greeted him. Perhaps if he was a decade younger and infinitely more naive and foolhardy, the way that she looked at him could have stirred some feelings of latent affection and guilt. Maybe the biting of the lip and clenching of the fists would have kickstarted that same protective instinct that he'd felt when she first fell in love with him.

Fortunately for him, and rather unfortunately for her, none of it mattered to him anymore. Kayden outlived her usefulness as a wife and mother of his children, and unless she shaped up, she'd outlive her usefulness as a tool as well. The only good thing about her was her light shows and that teasing slip of vanilla-scented cleavage that poked out of her white dress shirt.

"Max," she whispered, his name heavy and tortured in the quietness of her voice, "You know why I left. That I didn't want to leave, but had to. Your way of running things, of leading this Empire… I don't agree with it. I refuse to stand it. The manipulation, the drugs, the lies."

He had to play this carefully.

A lie that he could emotionally edge out of without sounding like a complete liar, like with Aster, was one thing. Outright shifting the dynamics of leadership and the direction of his Empire was another, but he had to give a little to take what was necessary. Without Purity, he lost Night and Fog, and without all three of them, he was a sitting fucking duck. The Gesselschaft, after doing their due research online and realizing the sort of player Avalon was turning out to be, were as likely to cut him off as they were to send resources and support. Manpower. He had to work in-house, and Kayden would be in-house. He just… had to play house.

"I see," he replied gruffly, artificially thickening his voice with both callousness and 'emotion'. Kayden's confused and torn gaze followed him as he abruptly stood, long legs taking him to the window that overlooked Downtown Brockton Bay. "… Do you think of me as a monster, Kayden? Preying on the weakness of this city, pulling it down into a pit? Am I the source of Brockton Bay's decay?"

"You don't fight against it." Was her quiet response.

Max inclined his head.

"Then help me." He replied, simple and to the point. Max turned, staring intently at the flummoxed woman, his striking blue eyes glimmering with fervor. "I've been cut down to size tonight, Kayden, and our cause is crumbling. It used to be a bastion of righteousness and nobility, of better people cleansing the scum and dirt from our city. Purity of blood, purity of heart, but avarice got in the way. I allowed myself to get in the way. But we can do it right this time, Kayden… together."

He reached out a pale, well-manicured hand, and she eyed it warily. Her own hand twitched, but then her lips pursed and heat filled her gaze. She took a step back and shook her head, brown locks flying over her shoulder in response. "How do I know that I can trust you, Max? You've made promises before. Broken them before. Changing your whole modus operandi… it doesn't sound like you."

He was giving her too much 'leeway' too fast. He needed to course-correct a bit.

Although it hurt to admit to his own mistakes, Max powered through. "Rushing Hookwolf's retrieval and getting half of my retinue killed or captured…" he forced a chagrined, humorless smirk. "That does not sound like me either, does it? My way has been failing me as of late, my dear. I'm flush with money, both from our legal and illegal assets, but morale is dropping. We're down two lieutenants, Avalon is riding around attacking our people with no rhyme or reason, and the 'heroes' are sticking their heads in the sand."

Kayden tilted her head, her pursed lips relaxing into a bemused frown. "So?"

"So," Max continued, hand still extended, eyes unblinking, "Perhaps a return to the old ways is due careful consideration. We pull our men from the streets circulating drugs, and gather them together for some… teambuilding exercises. Rallies, speeches, education. We quiet down, grow our forces, remember where we came from."

Retardation more like, but the way that her eyes glowed - the way that she fought so hard to stop her frown from twitching back up into a hesitant smile… that was what he was looking for. How she ever thought she could be a hero while believing in the death and subjugation of multiple races of people had always thrown him for a loop, but their ignorance was just another tool in his arsenal. Another way to keep climbing to the top.

"We haven't held an Empire Rally in years, Max. You haven't… spoken like that in years. Are you sure you-" Kayden abruptly quieted, her eyes pensive.

He heard it all, even though she cut herself off. Are you sure you still have it in you? Are you sure years of doing the same self-destructive shit you once preached about the niggers doing hasn't taken your edge, turned you into another ignorant soul?

Ironic, but he understood the flawed logic behind her hesitance. In an odd way, it offended him.

"It often takes adversity and loss to lift the fog of ignorance from one's eyes, and I've been brooding over my defeat for long enough. Either you trust me, right here and right now, Kayden… or you turn your back on me, on our legacy, and watch from the sidelines as I struggle to correct what should have been corrected long ago. It's your decision."

She went silent, her face abruptly turning unreadable and withdrawn in that frustrating way that he explicitly did not like.

He had managed to successfully turn her mind away from Aster, that damn baby seemingly being her sole focus in life, and towards the glory days of the E88. Back when they held rallies and lynchings and speeches in seedy warehouses across the Bay, Mein Kampf in one hand and red hoods in the other. The money had come mostly from backers and donations, because of course some of the richest white men on the East Coast were racist as well, and the fervor and passion within the Empire had been at an all-time high.

It wasn't sustainable, however. The heat they received from the heroes and the news was many times hotter than what they received nowadays, and Max didn't even believe half the shit he spewed out during those events. He much preferred standardized crime with a side of the occasional minority assault and murder to keep his racist little monsters happy.

But, Kayden loved that hardcore shit. She believed in all of that ten times stronger than he did, and he was the one who made her racist to begin with. If he wanted to keep the strongest Blaster this side of Brockton Bay on his side, eating out the palm of his hand… then he was prepared to play things a little more risky, if only for a little while. Without Purity, Night, and Fog, the Empire was practically powerless before both Coil and the ABB.

They simply wouldn't have the necessary parahuman strength needed to keep their territory.

Warm, smooth skin against his larger hand made him blink back into focus. Kayden was standing closer, her face still in an unreadable mask, but there was a light there in her eyes - one of hope, and determination. "I'll join you, Max… but only if you share the crown. That is my only stipulation - that we are partners, working to recover the spark that the Empire once held. I won't be pushed to the side."

The confidence rankled, but he was already knee-deep in a lie… what was another one? At the end of the day, she'd still be a step below him in all but name. Kayden had never been a very good leader, despite technically having been the Empire's co-leader, and he doubted that changed over the past two years.

There were no documents, no written or binding agreements. Just a handshake.

He smiled, this one genuine, even as his brain began to consolidate different plans. Ideas. Short-term goals to recruit, expand, and regain his Empire's trust.

"Of course, Kayden." Max murmured, his hand tightening firmly around hers. "With you at my side, we'll regain our rightful spot at the top of the chaff. We'll… make the Empire great again."

They had a lot of work to do.

And he had a lot of phone calls to make.

Perhaps a certain snake was willing to call for a temporary truce…

Spoiler: A/N

Not much to say here - We get a better look at Kaiser and Purity, and get a vibe of how the Empire's gonna handle this setback. Spoiler Alert: By becoming even more racist.

Kaiser is actually fairly powerful, superpower-wise, and he uses his whole metal manipulation thing skillfully. Problem is, he's not a fighter - he's a schemer and a leader, the type to push forth Knights and Pawns and Bishops and his Queen before making a move himself if he can help it. He's not especially brave - in fact, he's still alive because he surrounded himself by sheer numbers and power.

With that gone, he has to play things more resourceful. Too bad he's working on limited time.

Chapter 32 is up on my already, and Chapter 33 will be up tonight - gotta do some last minute edits and polishing after I get some sleep.

As always, be sure to like and reply, let me know how you feel about our journey so far!

Chapter 37

February 4, 1:58 AM

The early morning darkness pressed firmly against the dreary, cloud-filled sky of Downtown Brockton Bay. The scent of petrichor permeated my senses, filling me with a familiar sense of dopamine and nostalgia that often followed after me in the wake of rain. The previous storm was now only a slight drizzle, barely even registering on my personal Aqshy field, but the 'plip plip' of water droplets falling against Overdrive's truck managed to keep a steady rhythm.

It blended rather well with the quiet grumble of the tinker's souped-up engine, and both the scent and the sounds were doing their utmost to lull me into a well-needed sleep.

A wry grin found its way onto my face, and I pressed the button to roll the window up. 'Too bad there truly ain't no rest for the wicked… '

What did Kevin Gates say? I got six jobs, I don't get tired?

Right now I only had one and I was already pretty fucking mentally exhausted, but the lyric helped bolster my spirit, if only a little bit.

Overdrive's hushed, hoarse voice broke through my reverie. "Boss, we gonna keep patrolling this side of Downtown, or are we headin' to the Docks? I'm pumped either way, but-"

She was rudely cut off by a jaw-cracking yawn - one that stretched on for a few seconds longer than normal. When she finally managed to close her mouth and smack her lips, there was a tint of pink on her perpetually oil-smeared cheeks. "Kinda runnin' outta gas… me, not my baby. Heh."

"Head back to the shipping container for now," I replied quietly, glancing up towards the rearview mirror just in time to catch Sherrel's tired, sheepish gaze. "I'll put a lil' illusion over the place, keep the truck safe 'till we can get a proper garage that has more than a latch for security."

I kept my voice low because the children were sleeping.

In the passenger seat, Cass was slumped over and drooling on top of an inert Pod 084 like he was the softest pillow ever, and the less said about the bear-like snores rumbling from behind me the better. Fortunately there was some sort of hard plastic separating the backseat from the big ass trunk that housed Trainwreck - otherwise, his severe case of sleep apnea would've already ruined what little amount of z's my cute little hacker was managing to get.

They had all worked hard tonight, and I was proud of every single one of 'em. In a weird way, I felt… responsible? Not exactly in a fatherly way, but for all intents and purposes, I was their leader, their boss, and the one who was currently providing for them. Sherrel and Trainwreck were effectively homeless, and although Cass had her rainy day fund I knew that she was the type to rely on someone stronger - not because she needed to, but because she wanted to. She had to rely on herself for the past few years, after all.

Cassie was barely eighteen, Sherrel was probably getting ready to push thirty, and Trainwreck sounded like a bummy forty year old uncle, but I - the sixteen year old, multiversally-displaced teenager - was the one holding the reins.

Strangely enough, for someone who avoided responsibility and permanent connections like the plague… It wasn't too scary of a spot to be in.

"Aye aye, boss man!" Overdrive stage-whispered with a clumsy salute, her left hand smoothly twisting the steering wheel to pull the truck over into the left lane.

I allowed the rain to pull me back into a relaxed lull, looking down at my smartphone to slide open my PHO profile. It had only been maybe fifteen minutes since I posted in the thread - something I'd done mainly on a whim - and already I was getting flooded with follows, users tagging me, and direct messages. That was my main hangup with social media in general - I fucking hated getting flooded by notifications.

My eyebrow twitched. 'Told you chuckle-fucks to DM Cassie for a reason.'

I was logged onto her account in a different tab so it wasn't too different, but it wasn't about all that - it was the thought that counted. Fuck logic.

"… Say, Jason, mind if I ask you a question?"

Sherrel is concerned.

I turned my gaze back up to the mirror, meeting her own unwavering stare once again. Hidden Intuition was like a serpent wrapped around my shoulders, flicking its tongue near my ear, but I kept it contained and minimized. Not everything required supernatural insights, and becoming too reliant on something that easy just rubbed me the wrong way. Sherrel was bothered by something, that much was obvious, and she was using my full first name… not the best start.

I tilted my head. "You already did, champ… but go on."

She rolled her eyes, and a fond smirk broke through the stoic frown on her face. "Haha, funny guy! Not. Anyways, it's nothin' too serious or anything, ain't got enough juice in my tank for super deep conversation…"

"Mm, same. Gonna need at least six hours of sleep 'fore I let you snot on my chest again."

"Fuck you." Sherrel's fingers drummed on the steering wheel, her other hand dropping down to fiddle with the radio, but she didn't turn it on. I watched on with a vague sense of curiosity. "… Shit, don't know why I'm bein' a pussy. Ugh! Us. Me, you, fuck face back there, kitty cat… what are we doin'? Like, for real."

I raised an eyebrow, resisting the distant urge to cut straight to the heart of the matter and work for a solution. Part of growing up was realizing when some women simply wanted to vent, and I could tell that Sherrel had some things roiling in her mind, some weight that she wanted to get off of her chest. Instead of reading further into her question and hitting her with the hard, logical facts of exactly what we were doing, I took the illogical, vaguely non-autistic path of… feigning ignorance.

"Whaddya mean?"

The proverbial dam burst.

"This whole night! Me killin' Alabaster, you doin' your secret Star Wars voodoo shit to fuck up Stormtiger and pin him to the street with spears like- like some kinda dungeon raid boss-"

"You play MMOs?" My eyes lit up in interest.

"Huh? That ain't- shush! I don't give a shit about killin', much less a fucking filthy nazi," she spat the word out like poison, violently swerving sideways through a yellow light to hit a sudden U-Turn. Annoyed drivers honked their horns, and Sherrel tossed an errant middle finger out the window.

"But you haven't been tellin' me much, boss man. Ain't been tellin' us much of anything. Just how strong are you? What are you really tryna do here? 'Cause I've been way too sober recently, and my boring ass, straight edged womanly instincts are tellin' me that you're after something higher than murking the Empire."

She inhaled harshly through her nose, regaining the breath she lost in her rambling, and Cassie stirred.

We both froze.

"-you lov' me… if I was a worm…? Hnnn..~"

The sleepy hacker smacked her lips and snuggled closer to 084, and the little light on top of its head flashed a dim green.

Sherrel and I both let out quiet, synchronized breaths of relief.

When she eyed me again in the rearview, a considering frown formed on my lips.

"Well? I deserve to know what I'm gettin' into, Jason."

"Yeah, you do." I sighed, flicking my gaze up to the metal ceiling of the truck. The interior was surprisingly well-insulated and cozy, or as cozy as an armored death machine on wheels could be, but the scent of oil and some sort of gasoline was cloying. "I wasn't fuckin' with you when I said what I said. My first day in Brockton Bay, I was attacked by a buncha skinhead assholes. Since I'm kinda vindictive, that sorta… solidified the Empire's fate. I'm- nah, we're gonna wipe 'em out. That hasn't changed."

"And I'm all for the murder of neo-nazis, but that's not all. You're avoidin' everything else." Sherrel grunted, taking another turn. The truck was starting to chug a little, a testament to the change in road quality as we transitioned from Downtown to the Docks.

There was the vitriolic scent of burning smoke in the air, and her nose crinkled. I glanced over our quickly decaying surroundings with bored, tired eyes.

"Patience is a virtue, Sherr."

"I'm the furthest thing from a fuckin' monk, Jay."

"Ain't that the truth." I snorted, crossing my arms over my chest. Even muted, my Hidden Insight was breathing minute observations into my ear, small things that weren't even worth digging too deeply into. She wasn't pissed at me - yet, but snubbing her wouldn't help the situation. I didn't really have much to hide. "'Ight, let's do it like this then, make it easier: You ask me one question, I answer truthfully. Then I ask you something, and you do the same. That fair?"

There was a pause for a few seconds as she mulled it over, and I took the momentary lapse in the conversation to do a sharp swipe through Cassie's PHO DMs. Even without my Infused mask on, my ability to read and absorb information far surpassed that of an average human's, and I breezed through the beginning blurbs of dozens of inane, nosy messages before one in particular caught my eye.

It was sent a few minutes ago, from one 'Glory Girl'. My curiosity burned.

I had just clicked open the message when Sherrel's low, purring voice pulled me away from the phone.

"Fuck it, fine," she sighed, throwing me a small, self-conscious grin through the mirror. "Just… you won't look at me any differently, right? That would fuckin' suck."

I peeled my eyes away from the message - a polite and well-structured invitation to patrol the Docks with New Wave, attached with an address - and offered her a crooked smile. "That your first question?"

"Hell no, asshole. Just promise me."

Sherrel is serious.

"We both know who you were before I found you, Sherr." I replied, my smile not shifting in the slightest. "You won't say anything I hadn't already thought about. My expectations are in the fuckin' mud." I tried to add a bit of levity to my tone, tossing her a little wink to lighten the very real and very blunt truth of my words, and the tension in her jaw eased, if only slightly.

She took one hand off the wheel to flip me off. "Spin on it."

"Yeah right. The questions, woman." I reminded her, typing up a quick 'k be there soon' message to Glory Girl.

Sherrel flinched, her eyes lighting up once again. "Shit, okay. Alright, first question, and don't give me no half-assed crap either: How strong are you, Jason? 'Cause that shit you pulled off today wasn't some 'grab bag' bullshit."

Glory Girl responded with a confirmation immediately. At the same time, my phone buzzed, Amy's name popping up at the top alongside an incredibly blunt and foreboding 'We need to talk'.

I wasn't a stranger to having anxiety over cute girls, and that message… definitely kick-started a little bit of it. I swiped it away and returned my attention to Sherrel, ignoring the way that my left finger started a dull little rhythm on the screen of my phone.

Admittedly, I hadn't even thought about Amy's reaction to… everything. I wasn't even completely sure how I felt about her in the first place.

Shit to take care of when I met up with 'em, perhaps.

"… You want the condensed version? 'Cause that's all I really got in me right now."

"Huh? Obviously the condensed version if that's all you're given' me!"

I smirked. "Cool. I haven't had time to do a lot of training, but I think I could 1v7 the Protectorate with prep time, no diff. I'd need to work on my Infusions, buffing spells, all'at. My biggest problem is people who can blitz me before I can react, but eye' ve been tryna shore up that weakness." I closed an eyelid and tapped it a couple times, but it was clear that she either did not believe me or had no idea what I was referring to.

She stared, blank-faced with her eyebrows arched. An ember of embarrassment flared in my chest.

"… I don't get it."

"I can activate my powers through eyesight now. The pun was funny, you just need a higher IQ level to understand it."

"Hey-! My IQ's hella fuckin' high, dumbass, and the joke was garbage. I still don't understand anything - I know you're strong and all, it's why I asked, but taking out the Protectorate solo? Ain't that gettin' a little too cocky? And whaddya mean buffing spel-"

I cut her off before she could start rambling again. "Your next question is askin' me if I'm a little too cocky? 'Cause I'm guilty as charged, but I doubt you wanna use your resources like that."

She paused, eyes squinting as she glared lukewarm daggers at me. "… God. Smug lil' shit."

"Also very true. Keep your eyes on the road, Sherr."

"Ugh, fine, ask your freakin' question next. Do your worst." And the tenseness was back. She returned her gaze back to the road, glaring stubbornly out into the empty, crater-filled road ahead of us. We were close to the Trainyard now, I could tell - Sherrel wasn't a Sunday driver, and the cops had their hands too full with other shit to properly watch out for speeders.

Filled with a small burst of curiosity, I dialed Hidden Intuition up a little bit, studying the contours of the mechanic's clenched jaw.

Sherrel is nervous. Sherrel is nervous because she is ashamed. Sherrel is ashamed because she has done bad things. Sherrel is nervous because she thinks you will judge her harshly for her answers.

… It was about what I'd already expected. Hidden Intuition was definitely a magical ability, but often times it simply extrapolated information that I already subconsciously knew or held knowledge of somewhere in my memory banks. Considering my memory was magically-enhanced as well, Hidden Intuition had a lot to play around with.

"Okay then, first question," I finally spoke up, keeping my volume to the same level tone that we'd both unconsciously agreed to when Cass almost woke up.

"Just ask it already."

I let the tension build for a few seconds longer, watching Sherrel's face grow more and more tense as the moments ticked by.

"… Jason-"

"Is it pink?"

COUGH!

She almost swerved into a rusted-up mailbox. I lightly held the 'oh shit' handle above me, fighting desperately to keep the shit-eating grin from taking over my face. Her cheeks were starting to redden, though it was hard to say whether it was from the question or the violent choking fit she just went through.

Either way, it was entertaining.

"Ack! Fuck, Jason, what the fuck?" Sherrel cleared her throat, cheeks still rosy as a grin tore itself across her lips. She couldn't keep it off, and I could tell that she was trying to - the corner of her mouth was twitching like hell. "What kinda virgin ass question is that?!"

"I didn't judge your inquiries, ma'am." I responded lightly, exaggerating a scowl. "Answer the question."

Snort.

"Y-yeah, you freakin' perv. My pussy is a very pretty and enticing pink," she eked out through smoky giggles, giving up on her vain attempts at frowning. It was surprisingly wholesome to hear her low and husky voice doing something as girly and innocent as giggling at a shitty joke. "Wouldn't have to waste your first question on that if you-"

She abruptly cut herself off, glancing down at Cass. A crease formed between her brow.

"Heh, nevermind. You sure that's it?"

I filed that little interaction away for later. I'd been meaning to talk to Cass about it, but present-day Empire Culling activities made the timing awkward and unnecessary.

Plus, I was still a bit unsure about everything, and that made me hesitant to bring it up. Sue me.

"I'm satisfied… for now." I responded, finally letting the grin pull through. Sherrel chuckled this time, the giggles apparently having left her body already.

"If you say so, big guy. Guess it's my turn now, then?"

"Yep," I popped the P, leaning back into the soft leather of the seats and closing my tired eyes. She'd probably ask me more about my powers, or finally delve into exactly what my plans were past 'kill off the Empire 88', and I needed to figure out how much I wanted to share without exposing too much to her Shar-

"Sweet. How big's your dick?"

…

It was my turn to choke on my saliva.

Our little game of 21 questions went about as good as you'd expect. After my little joke question to ease the tension and make her feel comfortable, Sherrel apparently decided that she was 'too tired' to delve more into my ambitions. Instead, we spent the rest of the car ride basically sharing little tidbits of sexual trivia with each other. She asked me how many inches I was packin' (9, and 10 on a good day), and I asked her how deep her throat went - it was stupid shit, but I did learn a little bit more about her.

I felt closer to the woman now, oddly enough. Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but she was feeling more like a friend than a 'minion' as we were pulling into Trainwreck's shipping container.

The spell 'Camouflage Area' was a relatively simple one in comparison to some of the more active illusionary magic that the Grey Wind contained, and after doubling back on foot and making sure that we had no tails, I casted the spell over the container. The magic was effective - even if I didn't hold the same instinctive, prodigal talent with manipulating the Winds as a high elf, Spellcaster made it so that any spell I casted was much more potent than normal.

Only 084, with his scanning software, was able to see the shipping container once I ushered everyone, sans Trainwreck himself, out of the area. To everyone else, it simply looked like the rest of the Trainyard - scattered trash, overgrown grass, and dirty concrete.

In other words, perfect.

Afterwards, I took the women (and Pod) back to the Sanctum, gently refused Cassie's sleepy, half-assed requests to accompany on my early morning patrol with New Wave, and swiftly took to the air to rendezvous with the hero group at 'Cypress Avenue' - the warehouse district where Purity did the majority of the damage.

Just in case, I brought my potions and magic mirror with me. I doubted I would need them, but with my Satchel of Holding, there was no reason not to keep my arcane artifacts with me. Only the best and most efficient tools for my magical satchel, after all.

…

Alright, I may have taken some leftover pizza as well.

I was just biting into my second slice of piping hot, Aqshy-heated pepperoni when I finally made it to the warehouse district, and the pure amount of destruction momentarily shocked me.

From hundreds of feet in the air, looking down and over the Docks, the damage was extremely obvious. Despite being a part of the 'warehouse district', the reality was that Cypress Avenue also contained normal and occupied residential buildings - tall, blocky, and in the heart of the urban decay that seemed to plague this side of Brockton Bay, but still lived-in.

Now, though? Maybe not so much.

Rubble and refuse littered the melted street, whole buildings turned to crumbling, scorched mockeries of what they once were. It looked like a burning hurricane had ripped through the whole block and even a couple more besides, tearing through warehouses and turning metal into ugly black slag that clung to the dirty sidewalks and the burned out husks of abandoned vehicles. Through the gaping holes in some of the apartments, due to my unnaturally good vision, I could see movement - people, possibly former tenants or squatters, huddling together in the remnants. In the broken remains.

If I actually listened, I could hear gunshots and screams cutting through the night sky. After being on Earth Bet for a few weeks, things like a distant person screaming incoherently or weapons firing miles away had started to become a bit like ambient noise to me. Something I subconsciously filed away as background noise because I was always busy doing something else.

At that moment, it didn't feel much like 'background noise'. Seeing a whole portion of a neighborhood turned to hell for such a stupid fucking reason… It pissed me off. It pissed me off a lot, actually. Warmth flowed through the gaps in my fingers, and a quick glance down revealed the fact that I had actually punctured the skin of my palms by clenching my fists.

The dull soreness didn't do much to cool my anger.

'Purity did this,' I thought to myself, distantly, as I began lowering myself back down to one of the few intact rooftops. 'Her, Lung, Night & Fog… those motherfuckers iced a whole fuckin' street.'

For what? Territorial disputes? To free a fucking murderer?

Bullshit. The thought ruined my flagging appetite.

And I was mad at myself too.

What had we been doing in those couple hours after successfully fighting off the Empire ambush? Cruising through Downtown, taking care of a few muggings and assaults with casual ease, making sure the residential racists didn't band together and pull a fucking flash mob after we went viral on PHO. What we should've been doing was hunting down Purity, or grabbing some ABB goon to grill for Lung's main base. I felt pretty fucking confident in my ability to draw upon Azyr - dropping a meteor while the dragon was sleeping was well within my capabilities.

I had all this power. Common sense dictated that I don't rush things, that I take my time and plan things out properly, but wasn't that wasting time? Wouldn't that hurt more people in the long run?

'God, I'm being a fuckin' idiot. The fuck happened to Mr. Cool and Logical, Jay-'

"Avalon! Holy shit, holy shit! You actually showed up! "

"Woah , Vi- Glory Girl! Slow the hell down before you drop me!"

Two feminine voices, one boisterous and awed and the other, more familiar one flat and annoyed, had me turning away from the dilapidated street below. I saw only a blurring glimpse of them with my Second Sight before I peeled my divided focus away from the eyes at the back of my head, not exactly wanting to look at the sad sight below me for any longer than I necessarily had to.

Victoria Dallon, otherwise known as Glory Girl, came to a jerking halt a dozen or so feet above the rooftop that I was standing on, and my eyes widened slightly.

She was quite possibly the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on in this world.

That wasn't even her aura talking, either - I could sense her excitement and elation trying, in vain, to rouse something out of me, but Immutable Form wasn't just something you could bypass with a funky alien supercomputer. No, Glory Girl was objectively just an incredibly gorgeous girl - full, pouty pink lips freshly moistened with some sort of sparkly gloss, long blonde hair that reached right above her tailbone, a heart-shaped face with flawlessly clear white skin, and her voluptuous body…

Yee fuckin' haw. No wonder Cassie used to have a girl crush on her. Combined with the tiara and white costume, the chick looked like an actual superheroine sent from Heaven.

In spite of all that, my eyes instinctively sought out the tired-eyed, freckle-dusted, infinitely more plain brunette hanging over her shoulder and scowling at me over her large red scarf.

She was kinda cute when she frowned.

"Relax, you already know I won't drop you," Glory Girl chided her little sister as she continued to slowly hover down towards me. Despite talking to Amy, her crystal blue eyes were practically boring into mine, and I could tell by the wide smile on her shiny lips that she was absolutely loving what she was seeing.

I cracked a lazy smile and raised two fingers to my brow.

"Yo, Glory Girl. Iris got your message, but the rest of the team had to head back." I dropped my hand into my pocket and gave a casual shrug. "Looks like y'all are stuck with little ol' me. Wassup Panny?"

The healer gave me a stiff wave from over Glory Girl's shoulders, and I fought the urge to frown.

Amy is upset. Amy is upset because you worried her. Amy is torn. Amy is torn because you killed-

'Yeah, yeah, tell me something I don't know.'

As soon as her feet landed on the roof top and Amy dropped off her back, Glory Girl was immediately in front of my face. My body tensed for the smallest fraction of a second, fighting instincts from last night's battle still warm in my veins in spite of the passing hours, but she didn't seem to notice.

I could practically taste the Aqshy rolling off of her grinning form.

"Holy shit!" she repeated, extending her hand out to shake mine. I obliged, a more natural smirk forming on my lips as she squeezed me tightly and jerked my arm up and down. "I know you've already said my name and all, but I sorta envisioned floating down all cool-like and saying 'sup, I'm Glory Girl'. Thaaat kinda failed so… 'sup, I'm Glory… Girl?"

In the back, slowly walking up, I could see Amy's face.

She was cringing violently.

My smirk widened into an amused grin. "You still looked pretty badass, no worries. Very… Warrior Princess-chic vibes. Like a real life She-Ra." I didn't know if that old cartoon was a thing on Earth Bet, but there was a small chance that Earth Aleph ported it over.

Her eyes widened, the smallest sparkle of pink dusting her nose as she let out a girlish-sounding giggle. Her soft hand, I noticed, was still holding mine despite me already letting go. "You've watched She-Ra?! She was actually the main inspiration for my costume. Minus the, uh, sword I guess."

"She tried to use a sword," Amy spoke up, injecting herself right into the conversation. She held her hands in the draping sleeves of her white robe, face tucked into her scarf and sleep-deprived eyes staring balefully at the two of us. "A wooden one. Carol threw it away after her first patrol, saying there'd be too many lawsuits. She's a smart woman."

Her eyes drifted down to where Glory Girl was still gripping my hand, and something flickered through them. I couldn't tell because of the fucking scarf, but that was all I needed to see to pull my hand away.

The blondie didn't even notice, too busy turning red with embarrassment and glaring at Amy. "I told you to stop telling that story to people! Besides, no one got hurt!"

"Yeah, because you broke it over some nazi's clavicle instead of the back of their head."

Glory Girl rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well a fractured clavicle is light compared to what they get away with." She looked at me, and the embarrassment faded, replaced by a surprisingly sudden look of respect and seriousness. "Speaking of, Avalon… we-"

"You."

" Most of us in New Wave appreciate what you did last night. It was bloody, and most people turn their nose up at it because of laws and societal pressure, but… the Empire is trash. They're scum, and they-" Her voice cracked, and I felt my chest warm with empathy. "They deserve whatever happens to them. Every single one." There was hatred there. Genuine hatred.

The atmosphere felt still. I didn't look away from Victoria's eyes, absorbing the burning passion and scarred-over pain that filled those beautiful blue orbs, and felt satisfaction. Not because a pretty girl was thanking me, but because my actions had a tangibly good effect on someone that I could actually see and touch. I personally didn't give a shit about my reputation or how the PRT viewed me. I used to, a couple weeks ago when I was weaker and less confident, but now? They could go kick fucking rocks.

Still, though… being treated like some sort of murderer had stung, even just a little. Heroic Aptitude allowed me to ride the wave of animosity, maintain my fearlessness and spunk in the face of opposition, but Glory Girl's words felt… nice. Like a soothing balm.

Just as I was about to respond, a quiet voice spoke up.

"… I don't like fighting. Or killing. Or any of that stuff," Amy said, sounding incredibly small and unsure of herself. I glanced over, but she was looking down at her feet, gripping the insides of her robes. "But, yeah… those assholes kind of had it coming. Just wish they'd… poof, y'know? Leave everyone else the fuck alone. Be sent to the Birdcage. Not be…"

"Nazis?" I offered wryly, and to my surprise, the frizzy-haired brunette snorted.

"Yeah," she replied, looking up at me with her big, doe brown eyes. "In an ideal world I guess."

"They're prolly a couple hard R's too deep in their cups for that, Panny," I shrugged, glancing back over to an introspective Glory Girl. "You mentioned patrolling. Do I get to meet your parents before I take you two out?"

That cut through the heavy atmosphere. Amy reddened immediately, looking between the two of us with a vaguely panicked expression, and Glory Girl's stoic mask cracked.

"Hah! Crazy way to have a first date," she giggled, looking down at her smartwatch. Her smile promptly dropped. "Shit, I told them I'd come get 'em when we spotted you. They went to circle the West end of the Docks, make sure Lung's actually done for the night."

"I-"

"We'll be here!" Amy interrupted me for the second time. I gave her a deadpan stare as she stepped in front of me, bundling her robes in her hands. "I- I want to speak to Avalon for a little bit, Vic. Alone."

The flash of hurt and envy that flashed over Glory Girl's face surprised the fuck out of me, although I really should have expected it - Cass had already told me that she'd been fangirling on the forums about Avalon, so some attraction there was obvious. Still, the chick was an 11/10 on a bad day. Selfishly, I felt a little bit of warmth and pride at the notion that she was physically attracted to me.

"Fine," Glory Girl said, masking her true feelings with a faux teasing smile. "I knew I would end up being the third wheel. Serves me right, making you hang out with me and Gallant so much." She began rising off of the rooftop, hands on her shapely hips.

"It's not like that," Amy weakly replied, her face practically volcanic now.

I further weakened her argument by tossing an arm over her shoulder, causing her entire body to lock up like a scared possum. "Exactly. Just two friends, hangin' out on a rooftop in a destroyed neighborhood." I weakened the Aqshy field around me, moving it to encompass both me and Amy in its snuggly warmth, and she practically melted into my side. Shivers that I hadn't even noticed ceased in an instant.

"Uh-huh," she smirked, shooting me a knowing look. Before either of us could wave or say anything else, Glory Girl pointed her fist at the sky and shot off at blurring speeds, sending dust and pebbles flying through the air. Within moments she was completely gone, a mere speck in the dark sky.

I let out a low whistle.

"Huh. You were right… she is faster than m- OOF!"

Amy slamming her head into my chest probably hurt her more than it hurt me, but the abruptness and speed of the movement took me off guard. I staggered back half a step, instinctively wrapping my arms around the shorter girl to support her weight. She wasn't sniffling or anything, and her arms were still in the pockets of her robes, but I couldn't see her face to gauge any emotions.

Slowly, I raised one hand to pat her comfortingly on the head. We were friends, sure, but we weren't necessarily close. This whole thing was sort of throwing me for a loop.

"… So, is this a hug or did you knock yourself out tryna headbutt assassinate me?"

"Mmfffadmah."

"What about the muffin man?"

Her foot stomped on my toe, but it felt more like a gentle massage than anything else. When she peeled her face away from my chest, raising her hand to grip and remove mine from her head, I was finally privy to the light pink cheeks, the frustrated glare, the scary scowl that definitely wasn't a pout in disguise. She looked like a grumpy red panda.

"I said that I'm mad at-"

Warm skin pressed against my hand - the punctured one that I'd clenched too hard - and Amy froze again. Her eyes widened to an almost comical degree, cheeks shifting from pink to crimson, and her body shuddered. Violently.

Maybe it was the sleepiness that was plaguing my mind, or the fact that I'd just been distracted by how cute she looked with her freckles, but I did not understand what the fuck was going on until I realized that my hand was hurting just a little bit from her squeezing it in a damned vice grip.

She shuddered again, eyes glazing over and soft lips parting.

I blinked, and realization dawned.

"… Oh. Ohhhh. Fuck, Amy, you good?"

No response.

"Uhhh, how many fingers am I holding up?" I shoved four fingers in her flushed face, noting dully that her breathing was coming out in short pants. I didn't want to cast a healing spell on her unless she actually needed it, but, at the same time, I had no idea what she was seeing in my body. It was why I'd originally tried to keep my hands away from her back at the hospital.

Fortunately, a few seconds later, she blinked and licked her dry lips. I tried to pull my hand away, but she kept it on her head, clenching it even tighter. Her cloudy eyes, tired and compounded by dark circles, found mine.

Pure, unadulterated amazement, confusion, and something else I was not expecting greeted me.

Lust. Whether she knew it or not, she was staring at me with lust in her wide-eyed gaze.

Amy is aroused. Amy is amazed. Amy is curious. Amy is scared. Amy is-

"Amazing…" she murmured, eyes glazing over again as she went half-limp in my arms. "You… Jason, holy fuck. Your body, your cells, your entire genetic structure… it's beautiful. Perfect. Almost alien. How…"

I forced a crooked grin, resisting the urge to tap my finger against her skull.

"Long story, and I doubt we got that much time, so I'll just tell ya what I tell everyone who goes diving into my meatsuit:… I'm just built different, babe."

The deadpanned glare that she shot me was probably one of the most sardonic looks I'd ever received in my life.

Spoiler: A/N

No rolls this chapter, but we are at 700 CP now!

Amy finally gets a look at Avalon's biology, and… has a mini-orgasm? Her Shard is sending her so many 'he's a green flag' signals right now. Superior Form puts him at the absolute peak, and a little over, what a human being could ever achieve, and then you have so much mana coursing through his body. I can't even imagine what his insides would look like to someone like her.

We'll see the results of that next chapter, along with Avalon meeting some of New Wave. Let me know what you think below, and be sure to Like to let me know that you're enjoying!

Next chapter's up on , and Chapter 34 will be up on there tomorrow! Look out for the next QQ release this Tuesday.