Uncharted Limits: America

Chapter 2

As the bell rang, everyone wasted no time leaving the congested classroom. I, for my part, was one of the few that waited for most of the others to leave before exiting the room myself. There really wasn't any rush, since even after leaving the class I had to navigate through the crowded and tight hallways. And to make matters worse, the air was humid with hot and most certainly not pleasant-smelling breath, making the whole experience very unappealing.

I had just left my science class, specifically natural science. It was an elective science course I decided to take just out of curiosity. It was also the same class that I had to turn in my research paper, which consequently made me reconsider whether I should ever base my class decisions on 'curiosity' again. But… eh, I tried not to think too much of it. I submitted it, so it's over and I'll just have to wait and see the results.

It was lunch period, which would explain the eagerness everyone had. Specifically, this was lunch group C, which meant this huge crowd wasn't even half of the entire population of Southgate High School. Yeah, with the other closest high school quite literally being in the next town, we had to make due with this small place. And while, sure, they did end up doing plenty of renovations as a result, it really didn't mean anything to the face of almost two thousand students.

Speaking of school renovations, they strangely never bothered expanding the cafeteria, which I personally think should be a top priority to any school expansion project. Most of us had to go out into the courtyards or even the parking lots to eat our lunch. I was part of that group, but I personally didn't mind; if it meant I could get out of that stuffy building, then by all means I was going to take it.

Some of the lunch ladies were outside serving food in a special outdoors line. Once I got my insanely greasy slice of pizza, grayish mashed potatoes, and lukewarm chocolate milk, I made my way towards the farthest tree I was allowed to go to. There, I could see Eric already seated and with his own homemade lunch.

"Yo, Kev," Eric greeted me with a fist bump as I sat down, "how'd that paper go?"

"I fucked up, man," I sighed, feeling slightly irked that he brought up the topic when I just tried to forget it, "but it's whatever. How about you?"

"Shit's been the usual, I guess," Eric grumbled as he chewed on his balsamic salad, "couldn't give a damn about that math packet when Empire Soul III released. Was playing the hell outta that, it's really good."

"For real?"

"Yeah, you should get a copy. Or come over, you haven't been to my place in a minute."

I sighed, leaning back against the tree. "I doubt I can. Dad wants me to come with him for something in his work. Said it'd be a good experience for me."

"Sounds like some free labor shit."

"Tell me about it."

We ate in silence thereafter. Occasionally, we'd see a few other students randomly activate their quirks. Aside from literal public law, our school had even stricter regulations on quirk usage, but a few kids just didn't give a shit. There's a reason why they invested so much time and energy into detention here. Really tanked our school's ranking in the region, but I doubt anyone but the superintendents gave a fuck about that.

As I watched some kid's water quirk drench a girl's hair (resulting in a small skirmish), I remembered something from the news a few days ago. "Oh shit, bro, you heard about that heist in Raleigh? They said a few heroes died."

"Yeah, everyone is talking about it," Eric said with a grin as he pulled out his phone, "I downloaded the raw videos before they took them down. It's hella gruesome, check it out."

Intrigued, I couldn't help but watch as Eric pulled up the videos he was talking about. I was never and probably won't ever be a fan of watching real life unfiltered gore, but it wasn't something that anyone could completely avoid. And sure enough, a few seconds into the videos, I saw just exactly what they meant by 'morbidly deceased remains of the heroes'.

"Damn," I whistled as the short video ended with a disturbing display of redness. I was glad I finished my meager lunch beforehand.

"I dunno man, being a hero ain't a joke," Eric shrugged, "but it definitely has its perks to it too. I guess it's like being a cop but to extreme levels."

"That's already an obvious thing, dude," I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, well, some folks just won't know that until they end up like how those guys did."

"...yeah."

My dad had this old beat up Ford ranger that he just never gave up on. It dated back to just before the first Quirk Wars and somehow survived in an unspecified bunker. One would think it would cost a penny because of that, but no. It's rare to find the right parts to repair it, and when my dad got it the vehicle was all rusted. It took a fortune to get it back into shape, so he was really cautious about it.

Nonetheless, it served and continues to serve him well. And like he's said many times already, he didn't have to worry about paying insurance or something along those lines.

He worked a few jobs. One of them was a metalwork job in the outskirts of the town, right in the heart of a junkyard. Some anonymous clients wanted to buy specific scrap, and since no one was around during his shift, he needed my help moving the stuff into the bigger company truck.

It was close to eight, so it was getting pretty dark. I could barely see past a few feet. My dad pulled up into the dirt parking lot in front of the sole building of the junkyard. Once there, we got out his ranger and I followed him right through the mountains of metal. For a second, he disappeared from my sight, but no moment later did bright spotlights flash into life, illuminating the area in artificial white light.

"Alright, we have three laundry machines and another seven fridges we need to load up," my dad said as he reappeared, carrying a bunch of straps and pulling a dolly, "and I'm gonna need you to use your quirk for some generators as well."

"Ok," I nodded without an inkling of complaints. While probably a vast majority of other fifteen year olds would be against this sort of shit, I really didn't care much. This wouldn't be the first absurd laborious job he's dragged me into. With that said, I glanced around until I spotted the items my dad was talking about. 'Dirty' wouldn't even begin to describe their conditions. At least I had gloves.

We went straight to work. The fridges were the easiest due to their shape, and the laundry machines just needed the extra straps to secure them. What made it all safer was the fact my dad used his Bubble-Wrap quirk, which in simple terms was basically a quirk that made him a living and breathing bubble wrap printer. Within an hour and a half, we got all the fridges and laundry machines manually packed and loaded into the company truck. All that was left were the generators, a total of three.

I stood before the first one. It was about thrice my size in all dimensions. If I were quirkless, it would've definitely been impossible for me or anyone to move this thing without a machine. Fortunately(?) I had a quirk, and a rather versatile one.

'Alright… let's go with good ol' fashioned telekinesis.' With that thought in mind, I brought my gloved hands together and formed a rat hand-sign. It was unnecessary and I didn't need it for my quirk, but I just liked to do it for style. Soon, translucent bubbles escaped through the pores of my exposed skin, floating around me animatedly like bees to a bushel of flowers. These clear bubbles continued dancing around me before slowing down considerably and transitioning into a deep green shade. I felt a profound shift within myself, and that's when I knew my quirk had done its work.

Outstretching my hands, I focused onto the large hunk of rusty metal. My open palms glowed the same green hue that the bubbles had, and not a second later did the same thing happen to the generator. And with ease, the machine was lifted up into the air.

"Good work," my dad praised in the background as he went straight to his part, wrapping the bubble wrap around the machine. Once done, he gave me the thumbs up and I consequently levitated the machine into the company truck. Task completed successfully.

We did the same thing for the other two generators, completing the work in less than a quarter of what it would've taken. With bright smiles on our faces, we tip-toed back into my dad's car and drove off, finishing with the night of hard work…

…

…well, that's what I would've preferred to have happen.

"Hey! Eyes over here, dumbasses!"

I flinched from the sudden loud voice nearby, which was clearly not from my dad. We both looked towards the direction of the noise, finding a group of four men emerging from behind one of the scrap piles. They looked like the stereotypical goons, with spiky hair and tattoos all over their bodies. Their clothes were also all black, rock'n'roll themed.

"...stay near, Kevin," my dad muttered as he glared towards the men. He then shouted back. "What are you four doing here? This is private property!"

"We ain't here for you to ask questions, fucktard," the assumed leader of the four stepped forward, pulling out a gun from his waist. We then knew the seriousness of the situation. "Put up the last of those generators and fuck outta here. Leave your keys and everything too, we're taking your little truck as well."

My dad went silent, not responding for a while. He seemed deep in thought, and I was growing more and more anxious. This has never happened before, not to us at least. I don't know why these guys are even here, but I was beginning to really realize the danger we just randomly found ourselves in.

With uncharacteristic worry, I fidgeted in my spot in thought. What is my dad going to do? What should I do? Wait, no… that's something a foolish wannabe-hero would think. I couldn't do much while being held at gunpoint, quirk or not. It wouldn't help anything.

Seemingly irritated by the silence, the thug pulled the trigger, sending a bullet that hit one of the scrap metals next to us. The loud noises made me physically jump, though fortunately I didn't feel any sharp pain. Nor did I see my dad falter from his position. It seems that the attack missed. Nonetheless, my heart began to race.

"That was a fucking warning shot. I don't give that shit to anyone, but since this is a special case, I'm gonna be generous," the gunman shouted with an angered tone, "so again, start loading up those damn generators before somebody isn't coming out of this alive!"

"...Kevin, start loading them up. Now," my dad said in a hushed and rushed tone. I didn't hesitate either. That bullet could've ended one of us even if it was a miss, and there was more to come from the trigger-happy bastard if we continued to play coy.

And so I brought my attention to the second generator and focused my telekinesis. The machine was lifted, and this time my dad wrapped it up faster than what he did before. I just as quickly brought the machine into the company truck. But for a split second a thought crossed my mind, and I dared to hesitate. I tried to push it away, but my gut was telling me otherwise.

What was this thought? Well, for one, I noted that the distance between us and the goons was pretty large. What does that even mean? It meant that we literally couldn't do anything, and I didn't know if my dad brought his own gun with him or if it was still in the car. But that… wasn't true. My thoughts were telling me that my quirk's range was limitless. And the environment helped us a lot, too; we were in a good position to duck behind some metal if needed.

These all came together as the perfect condition. There was a possibility to turn the tables here. There was something I could do.

For me to do something… maybe I could do something with the metal surrounding those goons…

'...fuck it, worth a shot,' I shook my head violently and went towards the third generator. My dad and I repeated the same pattern, and I brought the last generator into the truck. However, throughout all of it no one noticed the bubble's surrounding me turning dull gray in color.

"Alright, now toss your shit over here," the gunman yelled out once we put the last generator into the truck, "any slight movement and I'm blasting the kid, y'hear?"

I could visibly see my dad's jaw clench. I'd also feel pretty pissed off if someone threatened my own kid. But there was no need to worry about that. I had to hold off and play it cool, but I think this is the perfect opportunity to enact my crazy plan.

'I just hope it isn't too far off from what I was thinking.' I thought to myself as I exhaled loudly. I then glared towards the goons, who seemed to notice and began to start laughing in mockery.

"The fuck are you looking at, kid?" one of the other goons laughed out loud, taking a step forward. "If you got shit on us, bring it over 'ere! We'll let you have a throw at us!"

"That's if you can get past this clip!" the gunman added, joining in on their crooked laughter. He shook the barrel of the gun, as if ushering me to come closer. "But, no, seriously, we might humor you for a bit. So c'mon over and—GUAH?!"

I wasn't really sure where they were going with their insults, but it did feel pretty cliche. I decided to take this window of an opportunity to activate my new quirk. During his brief monologue, I focused my eyes on his forehead, and my irises turned light gray (at least, I think they did). Not a second later, the gun in the man's hands flew from his grasps and slammed into his forehead, causing his head to snap back.

The event was so sudden no one had the chance to react. Before the other men could even so much as gawk at their attacked leader, the metal surrounding them began to shake violently before exploding outwards into flight, soaring towards the group in question. Bar after plate after jagged piece; each nearby metal cumulatively collided with the men, gradually growing a ball of metal that surrounded their bodies. From some of the pitched screams, I'm sure some of the metal did some serious damage, but I didn't really feel remorse about it.

In the span of ten seconds, where once stood a group of four men was now a large ball of metal with weeping noises. And, more importantly, there was no gun pointed towards us. We were presumably safe.

I exhaled again, feeling the strain in my eyes loosen. I took that as my quirk ending, and I glanced over to my dad seeing him gawk at the sight before us. He slowly brought his gaze to mine before clearing his throat.

"...I'm guessing this is your quirk in action?" my dad eventually asked, though warily.

"Yeah," I nodded, though feigning a sense of obliviousness, "kinda did its own thing?"

"...let's just get out of here."

Author's Note

Thank you for reading! Sorry if this chapter was also a bit lackluster, I'm running on four hours of sleep and over twenty hours of wake time as I write this. I know Kevin's quirk is still confusing and so I'll dedicate chapter 3 into explaining it and also a bit of lore building. I also going to give a small apology for anyone who has a similar fashion interest to the goons of this chapter. Don't mean to call in 'stereotypical' in a rude sense!

I'm realizing that my writing habits won't let me compress this story into a decent 10k word story. I'll just consider it a soft cap. Again, if this story gets five favorites, I'll extend it out another 10k words or something like that. I'll leave it to the readers. Until then, have a good day/night!