Inside, I moved mechanically, poured a glass of water, and sat at the table. Kitchen light cast a sickly glow on my new body. I was covered in blood. More than enough to have killed Troy, and yet I was walking, talking, thinking. I felt my chest. My heart beat normally. I wiggled my toes in my work boots. I felt that everything was fine, physically at least. I groaned. This was going to take some getting used to.
A shower was necessary, but brief. Memories of Troy reminded me that water and gas cost money, money that Troy never had. I did not have it either. Habits of survival became second nature quickly when there was so little to begin with. I adjusted. Clean enough, I dragged myself to the bedroom and fell into bed. Within seconds, the exhaustion overpowered everything else, and I passed out.
"Hey there, John."
A whisper drifted into my left ear. It startled me hard enough to make my stomach flip. I was dreaming, at least I think I was. But then again, maybe I wasn't. All I could see was darkness.
I spun around, and as I turned, the darkness peeled back just enough to reveal Troy. He stood there with a quiet stillness, a small, soft smile on his face that carried something like sadness.
"Troy?" I said.
"Yeah, it's me. Or more like an echo of me."
"An echo?" My voice sounded strange in this place. The darkness retreated further, revealing a vast starscape. We were standing on a perfectly square platform of flat grey stone. Nothing else. Just stars in every direction, cold and unmoving.
"Yes," Troy said. "An echo. This is the end of the line for me. I don't know what caused you to wake up in my body, but I suppose it could have been worse. I'm not thrilled that I died, but I know you will do great things with what I leave behind."
"Great things?" I asked. "I have your memories, but I don't see much of a future. No offence, but there isn't much here to work with."
Troy let out a low guffaw, his shoulders shaking once. "True enough. But that doesn't mean there's nothing for you in the future. Look up."
I tilted my head back and stared at the stars. They hung motionless, pinpricks of light. I was about to ask what I was supposed to be looking at when one of the stars began to swell, growing brighter and larger until it broke loose and drifted down. Before I could react, Troy reached out, caught it, and turned it over in his hands like it was nothing more than a smooth pebble.
"Here," he said, lobbing it toward me.
I caught it by reflex. It pulsed faintly against my palms.
"This should give you a head start," Troy said. "More will appear in time. I have your memories too, and now I know what's coming for Earth Bet. Whoever or whatever decided to put you into my body did it for a reason. I believe that reason is to save this place, these people. My people. You'll have the power to do that if you work at it. I'm trusting you to try."
His eyes met mine, steady and serious.
"I won't know if you do," he added. "After this, I'm going to whatever comes next. But I trust you to do what's right. Take this. Goodbye and good luck."
And just like that, Troy began to fade. The stars dimmed, and the grey platform blurred. His shape thinned out, like mist being pulled apart.
Then I woke up.
I sat up, heart hammering. In my hands, or no, within me, was a charge. That was the only word that fit. A charge, waiting to be spent. On what, I had no clue. But with Troy's last words echoing through my mind, I did the only thing that felt right. I metaphorically popped that charge within me.
Alright. So, that was an interesting feeling. It felt like a roulette wheel spinning deep within the very core of my soul, clattering and clicking with a rhythm that echoed in my chest. As it slowed, clink, clink, clink, clink, the motion gradually came to rest, and then the sensation hit me fully. Woah.
[Superhuman]
|Uncommon Ability|
You are superhuman, or whatever race you are. Even as a base human, you are able to lift cars overhead, punch through metal, survive small-calibre bullets, and run as fast as a tiger; all of these enhancements scale with your base stats.
The sheer force of it pulsed through me, a tangible weight and power I had never known. My heart thudded in my chest, my muscles felt charged in a way that was almost unbearable. Every nerve was alive, buzzing with potential. It was more than information, it was a force, a presence in my body that demanded acknowledgement.
I raised my hand to my face and squeezed it into a fist. I could feel it, the power within me, the strength. It was almost overwhelming. It was incredible, it was… Potential. It would grow, this strength. Right now, it was already powerful, but in time, it would slowly come to eclipse others' mere concept of strength.
I grinned. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as I feared.
The rest of the day passed in a haze of quiet adjustment. I spent the hours coming to terms with my new strength, sorting through the strange jumble of memories that were mine but not mine, and giving a silent, mental farewell to the original Troy. I had made my choice: I would keep his name and his face, but I would build a new life on top of the one that ended in that alley. Not just for myself, but for him too. I would do what he asked of me. If this power was anything like what it felt like, then this was only the beginning. More would come.
Those stars Troy showed me in that strange dreamscape came back to my mind. They were not stars at all. They were powers and potential, glittering fragments of possibility waiting to be drawn down. Even now, I only had a vague understanding of what I possessed. It was like some random power dispenser. Occasionally, I would gain charges, and those charges could be spent to unlock new abilities. It was a relief that it did not happen automatically, because the sensation of spending a charge was distracting enough as it was. I could not risk that happening in the middle of a fight. But still, the reality of it left me stunned. I was superhuman.
Was I a parahuman? I did not know. Troy's death had certainly been trigger-worthy, but my instincts told me this was something else. Something different.
I shook my head and sipped my tea. I was sitting in the cramped living room, the TV playing quietly, more a backdrop of sound than anything I was truly listening to. A news segment was running about a New Wave fundraiser and how they were upstanding citizens of Brockton Bay. I sighed and shut the TV off with the remote. The silence was better.
Planning felt like the smarter move. I grabbed a battered notebook and a pen from the coffee table and began to write. First came a rough outline of the events to come, the broad strokes of the Worm timeline and the threats that would eventually rise. These were not things I could ignore. Not with what I had been given. Not after what the original Troy had gone through. I would heed his wishes. I would do my best with what had been passed to me. All I needed now was to figure out how to do it properly.
Taylor had already triggered. There was nothing I could do about that. It would still be some time before she faced Lung, which meant there was no need for me to act rashly yet. The window gave me time to prepare, to train, to figure out what exactly caused these charges to appear. I had no details, no schedule, only the certainty that they would come.
After sketching out the timeline, I began working on my own plans. What did I want? The answer was simple and heavy all at once. I wanted to make Brockton Bay better. I wanted to fight the villains, not for the thrill of it but because I could see how badly the city needed it. That had to be some leftover fragment of the old Troy, that stubborn desire to see the Bay flourish again, to see it restored to what it once was and could be once more.
It would take time, but if I stayed the course, if the powers were strong enough, then maybe, just maybe, I could do it. I knew how super strength at this level would stand against Endbringers and Scion; it wouldn't, but this was only the start. It was in the name. Uncommon Ability. That meant there were tiers above this, stronger abilities waiting somewhere in the stars. That idea filled me with a strange hope. There was more to reach for.
I smiled at the thought. And then it happened. I felt another charge manifest deep inside me, like a weight settling in my core. Should I spend it? The answer came instantly. Hell yes.
I triggered the spark. That same uncomfortable clack-clack-clack sensation spun through me again, like a cosmic roulette wheel turning just for me. My pulse raced as it slowed, as the clicking fell silent and whatever was waiting on the other side revealed itself.
[Rinkaku]
|Elite Ability|
Tokyo Ghoul - Allows you to manifest a tentacle-like biological appendage made of special RC Cells that allows it to freely go from fluid-like water to tough as steel. The Rinkaku takes the form of multiple tentacles that emerge from your lower back. They are incredibly flexible and can be used to pierce, whip and even grab opponents or help the user manoeuvre around.
Oh, so this was an Elite ability. Definitely something. The moment I realised what it was, I stood and went to close the curtains. No line of sight for the neighbours. No risks. Only then did I allow the Rinkaku, no, screw that, I was calling them tentacles, to sprout forth.
They unfurled from my back like living steel, and even without testing them, I could already tell they synergised with my super strength. They were about three inches thick, as hard as the description had promised, and a deep blood-red colour that caught the dim light like wet paint. They should have been monstrous, but to me they felt… natural. Incredibly hard, yet just as incredibly manoeuvrable.
I twisted one around experimentally, using another to reach up to the ceiling light. With a casual flick, a tentacle removed the light shade and unscrewed the bulb, plunging the room into darkness. Huh. Incredibly dexterous too. I redid the lightbulb just to test myself further, not even feeling the heat through the tentacle, then planted four of the six firmly on the floor and pushed down. Effortlessly, I was lifted off the ground, as if I had been using an extra set of legs all my life.
I marvelled at the sensation. It was as simple as moving my own limbs. Just as natural. Just as easy to concentrate on other things while my brain tracked them perfectly through proprioception. The feedback was sharp and clear. With these, I could move at a hell of a pace.
I smiled at the thought. Tonight, I wanted to experiment. Really test myself.
But not here. I shook my head. Now was not the time or the place to experiment with incredibly powerful tentacles and super strength. That would have to wait until the Trainyard. For now, planning came first.
First step: prepare myself. Get accustomed to my new powers. After that, get the lay of the Bay. I had an internet connection and a very old tower PC. It would do for now, but money would be an issue in the long run. Maybe cash taken from the gangs would help supplement my meagre savings?
I sat back down and rubbed my temples. How the hell do you uplift a place like Brockton Bay? I had a rough idea, but I wasn't sure it would work. The initial plan was to create a superhero team. Not just capes who fought crime, but capes who actively helped the locals. People who would clean up the Boat Graveyard, run charities, and fundraise for the community. Take the money from crime, reinvest it into jobs and local growth.
An independent team, built from the ground up. But who would I recruit? Heroes in Brockton Bay existed, but truly unaligned or neutral heroes were rare. Troy's memories gave me some names that never made it into the Worm story, like Spirit, a water manipulator and Master who could create little water minions to attack or defend. Not the strongest power, but interesting. It explained why they were unaligned: small-time, ignored by the gangs and the PRT alike.
But if I wanted a team with impact, I would need more powerful capes. People like Skitter and Tattletale. Grue and Bitch were less impressive individually but still worth considering. If I could persuade them to become heroes instead of villains, that would be a massive net positive.
My thoughts on a superhero team were bit overwhelming to be honest. I was having doubts about even being able to lead a team, let alone try and form one. It was a daunting prospect, something I figure would be best served put aside for now. I would focus on being a solo hero for now, but if in the future I felt like building a team, I would give it the proper thought it deserves and then plan from there.
Thinking of the Undersiders however naturally led my thoughts to Coil. That was a threat I could not let fester. Too dangerous to leave sitting in the background, planning. He would have to be dealt with, and soon, well, soon as in once I had the skills to actually deal with him.
But back to the master plan: uplift the Bay, grow stronger, and when I was ready, take on the S-class threats. Use the money and resources gained to support local businesses, improve infrastructure, and clean up the city.
After that? Slowly and carefully, remove the villains from Brockton Bay and build a name for myself. Someone on the level of the Triumvirate if I could even reach that. Someone villains would hesitate to cross. Become the definition of a deterrent.
And while I was at it, change the nature of crime in the Bay. No more kidnappings, no more forced druggings, no more major cape fights spilling into the streets. I wanted an environment where, if crime happened, it was quiet and controlled. I would rather deal with an Accord than a Lung any day. In fact, with enough money and planning, if I got rid of Coil early enough, maybe I could even get Accord to provide a plan. Say what you will about his neurosis, the man knew how to build order out of chaos. I would just have to make sure he did not see me as an enemy worth revenge for taking out Coil.
And if I could deal with Coil soon enough, maybe the Travellers would never come to the Bay. No Noelle. No thank you.
As for Scion? That was years away. Hopefully enough time to find or develop a power, or a synergy of powers, that could attack his true body. If not, maybe I could arrange for Flechette or someone else to take the shot. It would not be easy.
And Khepri? I was not going to allow that to happen. No one should have to go through what Taylor went through. She deserved better. I would do everything I could to make sure she had the chance to be better.
I sat back down on the couch, my notebook already open and filled with scattered plans. Scribbles about contingencies, half-baked schemes, and hopeful ideas stared back at me like a map drawn by a madman. My pen hovered for a moment over the blank line reserved for the one threat I hadn't dared to write down, as though even naming it might invite it into my life.
Cauldron.
Just thinking the name felt like invoking some urban legend, the sort of thing whispered about but never confirmed. Definitely not something I wanted to tangle with unprepared. Without protection, I was less than an insect to them. I could only hope whatever power I rolled next would be enough to stop them from squashing me without even noticing.
I exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the chill creeping up my spine. Then I felt it, that faint spark dropping into me, settling low, heavy and electric. My fingers tightened.
I mentally rolled the dice, crushed the spark between thought and will.
Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.
[False Data]
|Uncommon Ability|
You are able to falsify your statistics and abilities to show scrying and analysing abilities, what you want them to see instead of what you actually have.
Okay, so maybe there really was a god listening.
The moment the spark settled, a switch flipped in my head. No effort, just an instinctual toggle sliding into place. I didn't need to test it to know what it did. My mind was a fortress now, sealed off from every Thinker, every precog, every parahuman who liked to peek at the threads of the future. No cracks, no loopholes. It was infallible. I simply knew.
I let out a long, slow breath, but my heart didn't slow down. The timing was too perfect. Way too perfect.
Whatever was behind these sparks wasn't just handing out random perks. Someone, or something, was stacking the deck in my favour. That was a good thing… probably. But if they could hand out immunity to the most dangerous thinkers in the world, they weren't just strong. They were stronger than all the powers they'd give away combined.
Best not to piss off a deity like that.
Still, if they were rooting for me, I'd take it. For now, gratitude was free.
The night was quiet. Darkness had a kind of charm to it when you knew you had powers and were tough enough to shrug off most of the guns on the street. On top of that, I could move ridiculously fast. My legs were a blur on their own, but paired with my tentacles? I was built for movement. The tentacles were perfect for vertical climbs, wrapping around window sills or stabbing into brickwork to drag me up sheer walls like it was nothing. I tried to avoid the stabbing, though. Punching holes in people's buildings was not exactly good for my reputation, and I did not want to be branded reckless with collateral damage.
But once I was on the roof? Damn. That was living. I sprinted hard, then leapt into the night air. For a heartbeat, I was flying, and then I was crashing down on the next rooftop with a grin plastered across my face. My tentacles stayed tucked away in my lower back, coiled and waiting for the signal to burst out, but for now I let them rest. I whooped every so often, the sound tearing loose without me meaning it, carried by the thrill as I raced across the docks toward the trainyard. It was not far, and the distance melted away when you could move like this.
By the time I slowed, I was deep enough in the trainyard that the sound of steel snapping and bending would hopefully not bother anyone.
The place was a mess, a massive dumping ground where everything came to rot. Ships leaned on their sides like beached whales, cars lay stacked in twisted heaps, furniture lay broken and splintered, and here and there were piles of refuse that smelled like they had been fermenting since the last century. It was perfect. I had already tested my speed, my leaping, and the tentacles' climbing tricks. Now it was time to see what kind of raw strength I had.
I reached for a car door and tugged. The strength came easily, too easily. It felt like pulling a shopping cart. Then the handle snapped clean off. Not exactly the comic book moment I had pictured where the door came free. I sighed and brought the handle up to my face. A quick squeeze, and the metal folded in on itself like tinfoil. When I unclenched, my handprint was pressed deep into the warped shape.
I grinned, pulled my arm back, and hurled it toward the water. The little chunk of metal shot off into the night at a hell of a speed. Phew. That was definitely hitting the bay. I listened hard for the splash but heard nothing. Too far, most likely.
Back to the car. With a thought, my tentacles burst out and drove straight through the door. They pierced the steel like it was paper, then writhed and locked in place. A single pull, and the door shrieked as it tore free, the sound of ripping metal echoing through the yard.
I lifted the door high and tried to crush it down into a ball. Six tentacles wrestled it into a rough cube. Not quite what I had in mind. I hauled it into my hands, braced, and squeezed. My hands had that little extra power, just enough to press it into a lopsided sphere. Not perfect, but good enough.
I dropped it, then kicked as it fell. The ball of steel rocketed away and slammed into the hull of some rusted ship with a booming clang that echoed like a gunshot. My heart leapt. I froze, scanning the shadows, waiting for any sign I had just given myself away. The echoes faded, and the night stayed still.
I let out a breath and decided to push the test further. Punching. I approached the same hull, set my feet, and threw a straight punch. My fist went through the steel like it was cardboard, momentum dragging me forward in an awkward stumble. I yanked my hand back and stared at the ragged hole. The edges had torn inward. Easy. Too easy.
I grabbed the sides of the hole with both hands. One pushed, the other pulled. The metal groaned, then ripped apart in my grip. When I stepped back, I had carved myself a new entryway into the ship's underbelly.
Yeah. I was strong.
A/N:
Okay, all, so this was the first chapter of my new fic. The first rolls escalated way too quickly, so going forward, I'll be rolling once every 2,000 words.
Here's how it'll work: this is a Chaos Gacha, but only for powers. I'll roll a D100, and the result determines which tier I pull from:
Curse: 1–9
Bronze: 10–29
Silver: 30–49
Gold: 50–59
Platinum: 60–69
Diamond: 70–79
Legendary: 80–89
Mythical: 90–99
Divine: 100
Even if I roll, say, Bronze, there's still a chance the pull comes out higher or lower, so I could end up with something Silver, or still just Bronze. The dice add a nice balance, keeping the results a bit fairer than just using the preset system. My first attempt was throwing way too many powerful things at me, and this should help keep it under control.
And yes, before anyone asks, that False Data perk was a genuine roll. I didn't even know the gacha had a blind spot perk in the pool. So yeah, Troy's apparently blessed by RNGesus. We'll see how long that luck holds out.
As always, I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter and the system. Feedback is super welcome.
If you'd like to support my writing and help me keep creating, you can do so over on Ko-fi.com/thesingingking. Every bit of support means a great deal and helps me continue bringing these stories to life.
Please know there is absolutely no obligation. All my chapters and stories will always be free to read. Your support is a wonderful bonus, but everyone is welcome to enjoy the stories regardless.
Thanks for reading!
–SingingKing
– Post Editing Note
Woah, so I've been delaying posting this story for a while because I wasn't sure if I could keep it going long enough. But I've just finished chapter ten, and I figure that's enough to start sharing it.
So, a few things you need to know about this story: the system in the background will be changing as I write. For example, this first chapter used a roll every thousand words. Then the next few chapters move to every two thousand words. Later on, I switch it to an accomplishment-based system instead.
I'm also planning to add the rest of the Gacha rolls, like skills and familiars, later, but for now it's limited to powers. So, yeah, the system's a bit of a mess, but I'm trying my best to make it work.
One issue I've run into is that the higher-tier powers are way too strong. I honestly don't know how I'd write Troy suddenly getting a global-level Ice Age ability without breaking the story. So if any of you know of other superpower randomisers that are more balanced at the top end—and ideally have better power descriptions to help with writing, I'd really appreciate the suggestions.
Thanks for reading!
– SingingKing
2The way back through the trash heaps and derelict buildings of Brockton Bay was its own kind of experience. I decided to walk this time, keep things calm. The bandanna I had been wearing while "caping" was tucked away, leaving me just another face in the crowd, a regular guy out for a night stroll.
It was a pleasant walk, made easier by the steady comfort that came with knowing I could survive most things thrown my way, and if not, I was fast enough to run. The wind carried the salt of the bay with it. Sure, the air was tainted by the chemical rot of the water, but it was fresh enough for me.
Walking gave me room to think. And the thoughts were… big. Powers in Brockton Bay. That was not just a change in situation; it was a complete reroll of the dice. One moment I was asleep, the next, wham. You wake up in the body of a dead man, with powers and the memories to match. The whole thing had the flavour of a fever dream, but the memories were too sharp, too vivid. Too real.
I shook my head, trying to knock the fog loose. Reality was reality. No matter how weird the start, you just keep moving forward. That is life, right? Take the day, grab the horns, wrestle it into something worth being proud of.
My first day here had been a blur. Woke up, discovered powers, went straight to testing. No slow build, no cautious feeling-out period. Straight to "let's go punch a boat." That was not normal. That was very unlike me, which meant something was off with me. More off than usual, I mean.
I dug back through the thoughts I had been having since waking up. What stood out was not the recklessness itself, but the lack of hesitation. That was not me. In my old life, I hesitated. I planned. It was not just a habit; it was survival. You do not mess around with electricity. Carelessness gets you fried. So why had I been acting like this?
The only answer that made sense was bleedover. Troy's memories were part of me now, and Troy had been decisive. Bold. The kind of guy who threw himself into things without second-guessing. A forward, straight-backed personality. And maybe that decisiveness was bleeding into me, nudging me forward without the usual caution. His memories were still messy in my head, half-unpacked. I had not gone through them properly yet, and maybe that was catching up with me. I was going to have to dedicate some time to digging through them, sorting out what mattered.
Friends. Did Troy have people who would check on him, expect him? What would they think if he just disappeared, or if I failed to reach out? He had been a dockworker, so did that mean I had to clock in Monday morning? Would I get called out if I didn't show?
Tomorrow's problems. For now, my focus stayed on my surroundings. The northern docks were technically Merchant turf, but this stretch was quiet. Too ruined and empty to be worth their time. Maybe a bum here or there, but nothing else. Still, head on a swivel. Danger had already found Troy once in this city, and Brockton Bay was not a safe, happy-go-lucky place.
When I finally stopped, I was outside Troy's, I mean, my home. This time, I took it in properly, without the exhaustion of dragging around my body that had felt like a corpse.
The place was simple. Once it had been cared for, loved even, but now? Not quite falling apart, but close enough. Paint stained and discoloured. The roof was still solid, but the balcony and railings looked starved for varnish and ready to rot through. Windows dusty, glass dimmed with grime. The strip of weeds pretending to be a lawn would be generously called a garden. The neighbours' places looked just as bad, entire rows of homes slipping into neglect. Some were family houses, some single-room places like mine, but the story was the same. Once a decent neighbourhood. Now… sad.
The steps creaked under my weight as I climbed up, the boards bowing like they had been soaked one too many times. The front door squealed as I pushed it open.
Inside was better, but only in degrees. Cleaner, but only in the sense of no dust. Everything else screamed wear and tear. The couch sagged, the fridge rattled, and the whole house was patched together with repairs. Not new, never new, just enough to keep limping along.
I poured myself a glass of water and let the quiet settle in, the melancholy sinking deeper as I really looked at the place. The city. The homes. All of it was just… rotting. I then lay down, hoping for rest.
It was only as sleep started to take me that something shifted inside. A charge. Energy. I thought about rolling it, but exhaustion won. I knew it would still be there in the morning.
And then I was asleep.
I was up bright and early, just in time for the sunrise. Not that I got a clear view of it, hemmed in as I was by rows of buildings between me and the water to the east. Still, it was light creeping through the cracks, and that counted for something.
I fixed myself a rudimentary breakfast and sat at the table. Ate slowly. While I chewed, I probed at the memories that weren't originally mine. Troy's memories.
It seemed he had been at the docks recently, speaking with a certain head of hiring, trying to scrounge up work. He had been turned down. Nothing available. That was a problem, because it meant money would be tighter than I'd thought. My quick skim through the past confirmed it. I was going to need an income, and soon.
As for friends, there was one. But he wouldn't be an issue. Not anymore. He'd had the misfortune of wearing skin a certain shade, and that was enough for a certain kind of people in this city to take umbrage. He was dead now, another victim of gang violence, another statistic in the Bay. That left Troy mostly alone. An occasional call to an old friend on the West Coast, but even those had fizzled out.
It was like his life had been tailor-made for an impostor to slip in and take over. That was both a sad thing to realise and, in a cold, ugly way, a blessing. I didn't know how I would have managed to play the part of the original Troy. This was simpler.
As I catalogued his memories, my head began to clear. And with that clarity came a kind of recoil. Yesterday's behaviour. The rushing. The testing. The total lack of caution. Nothing had gone wrong, but that was luck more than anything. From here on, I needed to think things through. Get back to my own roots. Be methodical again. This was a world without mercy or do-overs. It had to be treated like that.
With breakfast finished and my thoughts in order, I turned my attention inward. That charge was still there, coiled inside me. I prodded it, moved it, felt around its edges. It was strange to play with something metaphysical and real at the same time. Stranger still to realise I could mould it.
If I waited, if I built up another charge, I had the sense I could bump its "tier" up a level. Interesting. But with what I'd already rolled, I doubted I needed to.
I washed the dishes, sat back on the couch, and, with a steadying breath, pulled the metaphorical trigger.
39 - Silver
[Slip In]
|Uncommon Ability|
You were always a slippery one; you can pass your body through any opening wider than 5 centimeters in length.
That was a weird ability, another uncommon one. I wasn't complaining, but it didn't quite feel like it was in the same league as my superstrength. Both were uncommon abilities, yet they seemed different in weight somehow. Regardless, this would be useful. I could see it coming in handy for infiltrating gang houses and slipping past locks. I would also like to see a jail cell keep me trapped now. They would need to make it nearly airtight just to hold me. So yes, this one would be very useful.
Now the question was what to do with the rest of the day. Research. That was the answer. I booted up the computer in the cramped little office space and created a handle on PHO. Something Troy had never bothered with. I finally settled on "Archon." It had a ring to it, something to aspire to, something that might inspire others. It was also a little nod to what I hoped my powers would eventually let me accomplish. The name was untaken, and after filling in the required fields, I had myself an unverified cape tag.
With that done, it was time to get the lay of the land in Brockton Bay. I needed to familiarise myself with the parahumans and the gangs.
The first group was exactly what I expected from Worm, both fanfic and canon: the ABB. They had Lung, the giant rage dragon, and Oni Lee, the teleporting suicide bomber. Lung was infamous for his raw durability and firepower, while Oni Lee's reputation came from his sheer ruthlessness. The ABB was also known for its disturbing habit of snatching lone women off the street, women who were never seen again. Drugs weren't their main trade, but they had suspected ties to gambling dens and casinos. I knew for a fact those ties existed thanks to the whole Ruby Dreams incident involving the Undersiders.
Next was the Empire. First up was Kaiser, the metal man himself. His power let him extrude blades of steel from metallic surfaces. Apparently, he needed a certain amount of free space to do it, since he had never managed to sprout blades inside Armsmaster's armour. People suspected he simply couldn't. His lieutenants were no less terrifying. Krieg was his second-in-command, a kinetic manipulator who could dampen or enhance force. His influence was strongest near his body and faded with distance. Then there was Hookwolf, who could become a literal blender of blades. He was a changer, twisting himself into a spinning mass of metal that he usually formed into the rough shape of a wolf. Definitely not someone I wanted to meet in a dark alley. The last lieutenant was Purity, Kaiser's ex-wife. A solar blaster of terrifying strength, she was just shy of Legend in terms of destructive capability, though she lacked his versatility. Her blasts came in massive helixes of energy, and while she always had enough charge to fight at night, she grew more dangerous under direct sunlight.
Then there were the rank-and-file members, less "important" but still nightmarishly powerful. Menja and Fenja, the Valkyrie twins, could grow to six times their normal size and shrink incoming damage in proportion. In their giant forms, they were both incredibly strong and nearly impossible to bring down. Crusader was a master whose spectral projections only interacted with organic matter. His phantoms could fly and carry him with them, granting him an odd sort of flight, but the real danger was their ability to ignore armour entirely. Alabaster, meanwhile, was monochrome and practically immortal. Every four seconds, he reverted to a whole, uninjured version of himself. Even if he were killed, he would be back on his feet moments later. Trapping him seemed like the only real option.
Stormtiger was another nightmare. An aerokinetic who had learned to weaponise air in dozens of creative ways. He could enhance his senses by manipulating airflow, track projectiles by the slipstreams they left behind, and attack with claws of compressed air. He could even create explosions by compacting the air into a bomb-like effect. The Empire really did not skimp on heavy hitters. And that was without even mentioning Night and Fog. Those two were perfect teammates, each enhancing the other, and nearly unbeatable when working together.
By that point, I was already getting tired of reading. The Empire sounded overwhelming, and I still had more names to go through. Cricket was next. She wore a cage-like mask and wielded twin kamas with terrifying proficiency. Her powers revolved around auditory manipulation. She could unleash subsonic pulses that caused vertigo, nausea, even outright illness. Her reflexes were superhuman, and she used echolocation in battle. Then there was Victor. He freaked me out more than most. A thinker with the ability to drain skills from others, he earned the title of "skill thief." He could strip a doctor of their hard-earned medical expertise and take it for himself, permanently. By now, he was an expert sniper, among other things, and he always operated with Othala's support. Speaking of Othala, she was a Trump with the ability to gift powers to others. She couldn't gift herself, so she was usually kept safe in the background. Her most used gift was healing, which kept the Empire's soldiers in fighting condition almost indefinitely. But she could also grant flight, invulnerability, pyrokinesis, superspeed, and superstrength. She was an absolute force multiplier, maybe the single most important piece on their board. Finally, there was Rune. Her telekinesis was strange. She needed to inscribe a rune or imbue an object with her power before she could move it. She was mostly used as aerial transport, carrying capes on floating platforms, and as artillery, hurling massive boulders into enemy lines.
Fuck the E88. They were far too strong for me to take on, and far too well-rounded. The only thing they lacked was a precog or a Tinker, and if they ever discovered what I could do, they would stop at nothing to either recruit me or kill me.
I moved on. Two smaller gangs remained. First were the Merchants, with their three parahumans. Skidmark, with his acceleration fields that could stack over each other and launch objects at insane speeds. Mush, who transformed into a disgusting trash golem. And Squealer, a Vehicle Tinker. Both Skidmark and Squealer worried me. Either one could break through my brute rating.
The last was Coil. PHO debated whether he had powers at all, but I knew better. He was a precog, able to model two timelines at once and choose the outcome he liked best. I doubted his shard could actually generate alternate realities, so most likely it just fed him two visions of the future, then compelled him to act in ways that would fulfil the chosen path. A terrifying power, especially when paired with his intelligence. Still, I had my False Data perk. Hopefully, that would be enough to throw his predictions off and buy me time. Coil definitely needed to be dealt with early.
Then there were Coil's pawns, the Undersiders. Grue with his darkness, Bitch with her monstrous dogs, Regent, or "Hijack" as he used to be called, who could slowly seize control of a person's nervous system and puppet them. And lastly, Tattletale. The thinker who made leaps of deduction so absurd that they made Sherlock Holmes look like he was guessing.
God, Brockton Bay was a disaster waiting to happen. With race wars simmering under the surface, Coil pulling strings in the background, and the Protectorate hopelessly outmatched, the whole city was a powder keg. The heroes couldn't do much against such overwhelming rosters. And me? There was no way I would ever join the Protectorate. The bureaucracy, the red tape, the endless PR patrols and carefully scripted public appearances. Being ordered who to fight, where to go, and what to say? No thanks. I valued my freedom far too much for that.
I briefly considered loading up the Protectorate site to review the heroes' powers, but I already knew most of them. I wasn't in the mood to trawl through more data. So I shut down my computer and went to make dinner. It was almost funny how much time I had just spent browsing. Then again, that was normal for me. Losing myself in forums or YouTube rabbit holes had always been my thing. Was it really surprising that I had just lost hours to a superhero wiki and PHO threads? Not at all.
With the day winding down, I decided it was time to check the TV and confirm the date. If I was going to make any plans, I needed to know exactly where I had landed in the timeline. The calendar read March 8th. That meant I had one month before Taylor went out on her first patrol and crossed paths with Lung. The Simurgh had only recently struck Canberra, which meant the next Endbringer to appear would be Leviathan. And there was a real chance he would be coming straight for Brockton Bay, unless something I did managed to change that.
I was too late to stop Taylor's trigger event, but maybe there was still something I could do to help her. The problem was that I had no powers suited to that right now, and no way to anonymously tip off the PRT about what Sophia was doing to her.
I sighed. It was frustrating how little I could actually accomplish at this stage. Even so, I figured the least I could do was start patrolling soon. I paused to think it over carefully, reminding myself not to rush blindly into this. But nothing jumped out as a reason to wait. I had a roof over my head, a base of operations, money for food, at least for a while, and powers strong enough to let me make a difference.
I hadn't gotten another ability since last night and this morning. That seemed fair. My first day had been crowded with powers, and maybe that had been a kind of starting bonus. Either way, I could work with what I had. As long as I was careful, there was no reason I couldn't go out tonight.
I would need an outfit sooner rather than later. I doubted I would ever be given a uniform. Everything so far seemed to be powers. Maybe I would be able to Tinker something together eventually, but that was still a big question mark as to whether I would actually get a Tinker power. Another possibility was Parian. She was Brockton Bay's resident superpowered seamstress, and I remembered her making clothes and dolls with her power. I didn't know if she ever did cape costumes, but I could at least check if she had a website.
Just as I was thinking it through, I felt another charge spinning up inside me. Nice. I dropped onto the couch, settled in, and let it roll.
63 - Platinum
[Sandblast]
|Uncommon Ability|
Allows you to launch blasts of high-velocity sand clouds, capable of rending and shredding metals and especially flesh
Nice. It is an uncommon again, but this one is scalable. This could be a great utility power, something to annoy people by getting sand in their eyes, or something worse, able to strip paint, pockmark metal, even strip flesh from bone if I pushed it. That thought was unnerving. I could not picture a situation where I would need to take it that far, and that made it both useful and a little terrifying.
Still, utility matters. This will make taking people down non-lethally much easier. Create a sandcloud for cover, then move in for the takedown. One small problem is that there is nothing in the power that lets me see through the cloud. Not ideal, but solvable. I could also shape it into a focused beam, like a frost spell from Skyrim, a blaster shot from my hand. That would give me reach and control. I will have to experiment with range, density, and focus later.
I had been hoping for some kind of sensory boost, but it looks like that is not what I rolled. Still. A scalable sand-and-abrasion power is not bad.
The rest of the time until I decided it was appropriate to go patrolling was spent idling away. I assimilated more of Troy's memories and made myself familiar with the house and the things inside. I also found Troy's emergency stash. It sounds better than it was. It was a small bundle of cash I stumbled across in his memories; otherwise, I never would have found it. It was under a loose floorboard. Cliché, yes, but it worked. Inside was a roll of bills totalling $400. Not earthshattering, but it would stretch my food money if I did not find anything from the Merchants tonight.
The Merchants were my first target. They were the low-hanging fruit, the kind of people starter heroes and vigilantes aimed at. They were the lowest of the low, universally despised. They did not have the numbers, the discipline, or the firepower of the E88, and they lacked the raw threat of Lung and Oni Lee from the ABB.
I found myself patrolling the north docks on the edge of the train yards. This was where the Merchants peddled to the poorest of the poor, to people living in true poverty. Honestly, it was mostly me walking around in a hoodie and jeans with a bandanna tied around my lower face. I looked like a starter parahuman. That would do for now. What I wanted was a costume, sure, but more than that, I wanted a Merchant's safe house or stash to raid. The Merchants were the worst equipped gang, and there were almost no reports of them engaging in major shootouts with rifles or automatic weapons, so I figured I could handle whatever low-caliber firearms they had.
People moved through the docks in little rushes, heads down, avoiding eye contact, trying to get where they were going. I ignored them and kept watching for shady characters or any signs that something was wrong. I really wished I had the whole Superman package. With enhanced hearing, I might have picked up trouble sooner. With my baseline senses and instincts, there was nothing at first.
Eventually, I found something: a drug deal. It all looked smooth, then the buyer bolted. It felt off. Sure, the seller was peddling drugs, but would jumping in and beating him up be heroic? Would my testimony be enough for the police, or would I simply send a guy to the hospital so he could go right back to selling once he recovered? I had not thought this through. Again.
The dealer noticed me and scurried deeper into the alley. I sighed, mentally groaned, and berated myself for my lack of preparation for this life. I let him go. It did not feel right to just beat up some drug dealer without a guarantee that he would be put away. It would be both more efficient and more impactful to take out the supplies rather than the rats who peddled them.
I turned and started walking back, running through what I needed and had not thought about. First, how the hell would I secure people? Zip ties. Did I have any on me? Of course not. Second, how would I call the police? My mobile phone? Definitely not. There are burner phones for a reason. Did I have one? Nope. Lastly, emergency money? Yes, surprisingly. I had a couple of twenties tucked away, just in case.
I paused and tried to think through how to get these people actually convicted. My best bet might be to call the police department on the non-emergency line and ask straight up what evidence they would accept. Maybe I should get a body cam to record crimes. I just hoped that the footage would be admissible in court.
I took a roundabout route home, thinking maybe I would stumble onto something more black and white where I could intervene. By the time I got back, nothing had happened. I had thought Brockton Bay was one of America's crime capitals, but tonight it was quiet.
Whatever. I was tired and in need of sleep.
A/N:
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I woke up quite late the following day. Who would have thought that being up for most of the night would mean I would sleep in? Still, a midday breakfast got me going, and I was ready for what I had planned. The first order of business was a call to the local police department. I wanted to know how they actually handled parahuman crime intervention, what I could do to make charges stick, and how to go about being a vigilante hero without landing myself in jail.
By the time breakfast was finished, I had a rough plan in mind and figured there was no point in waiting. I booted up my computer, checked the police website for the correct number, and dialled.
The person who picked up sounded bored and apathetic. Probably not uncommon in this city, but at least he knew what to do and who to forward me to. Of course, after finding out I was a cape, he tried to get me to call the PRT instead, which I should have expected, but I pressed on. Since I would be handing criminals over to the police, I wanted to know how to do it properly. Eventually, he sighed and forwarded me further up the chain to another officer, a Mr Scholtz. Hopefully not a Nazi, but at least he would tell me what I wanted to know.
Apparently, this was not a two-party consent state, which meant that as long as a video was unedited, it would be admissible in court. He actually seemed quite happy that someone wanted to learn how to do things the right way and walked me through what sounded like a professional crash course on vigilante procedure. I jotted notes as we talked, and by the end, I had a full page of things I hadn't even considered.
For starters, there was a dedicated non-emergency line for dispatch that could cut through the usual bureaucracy to get a faster response. Then there were clear rules about the acceptable use of force. Knocking someone out was fine, but if the injury went beyond a minor concussion and a few broken bones, it was considered excessive; effectively, the least harm possible was the way to go. That was going to be a fine line to walk with my enhanced strength, but it was doable.
Next came evidence handling. Officer Scholtz advised me to leave everything untouched whenever possible. He also clarified a few things about money found at crime scenes. Apparently, it was legal for independents to take up to fifty thousand dollars, as long as the amount was declared so that the police could keep track of the gangs' finances. He said it was a "soft" rule and that no one would make a fuss if the amount was slightly higher, but he did ask that I be accurate with my reports. I could respect that.
He also told me to make sure any weapons were made safe and kept away from the suspects, and to wear gloves to avoid leaving unnecessary fingerprints that could confuse the analysts. I hadn't thought about fingerprints at all. Even though Troy's weren't in the system, they could still cause problems down the line. Best to avoid that entirely.
Lastly, he stressed the importance of waiting for the police to arrive. It wasn't just for giving statements but also to prevent looters from messing up the scene, and to make sure a gang-affiliated cape didn't show up and start a fight with the cops. I nodded along as he explained everything.
By the time we wrapped up, I was honestly glad I had made the call. Officer Scholtz had become noticeably more lively by the end, clearly pleased, as he put it, "to work with a vigilante hero rather than clean up after one." That got a small chuckle out of me. He gave me his professional number in case I had any more questions or concerns, and recommended I register with the PRT, even if I didn't plan to join. I said I'd consider it and probably get around to it in the next few days. It's not like they could force me to join unless I did something stupid and gave them leverage over me.
When I hung up, I leaned back on the couch and went over my notes again. It was a lot, but it all made sense.
Once I felt ready, I took Troy's, I mean my car and headed out for a little shopping spree. First stop: the hardware store, where I picked up heavy-duty zip ties. Next was a phone shop, where I bought a handful of burner phones, cheap ones designed by Dragon herself to be as simple as possible and to only be used a few times each. Perfect for me.
My last major stop was a specialty photography store. I browsed for a while before finding what I thought was the perfect item: spy glasses. They were shaded, which helped obscure my face even more, and they were tough, waterproof, and had an SD card slot. Perfect for recording and handing evidence over to the cops. A little pricey, but worth it. I grabbed a handful of small SD cards to go with them.
Then it was off to a self-defence and gun store, where I picked up a taser and a couple of pepper spray canisters, the modern, less-lethal cousins of my sandblasting power. After that, a quick grocery run rounded things off, and by the time I got home, it was late afternoon.
As I walked through the door, I felt another charge spin up inside me. I grinned, made my way to the kitchen to unpack, and once everything was sorted, headed to the living room to roll.
68 - Platinum
[Byakugan]
|Elite Ability|
Naruto - Grants you exceptional visual prowess that can even penetrate through solid matter and allow you to read energy signatures.
Isn't that from Naruto? So that means my abilities can also come from fiction. Oh yeah, there were plenty of fictional powers that would be incredible to have. I found that this one was a toggleable ability and activated it immediately.
I looked in the mirror and saw that my eyes hadn't changed, though they glowed faintly with a soft light. An interesting development. Of course, it was disorienting at first, but the feeling faded quickly, and I adjusted faster than I thought I would.
Then I noticed the blobs of glowing shapes beyond the walls of my home. It was a fascinating way to represent seeing through walls, closer to thermal vision than X-ray, limited to detecting people rather than objects. Still, it would be a massive advantage for scouting out gang hideouts and counting the number of opponents before moving in.
I smiled and deactivated it. I knew instinctively that the power had a time limit, and even now, my eyes felt slightly itchy, though that sensation faded after a few moments. Still, I was pleased. I had wanted some kind of enhanced senses last night, and now I had them.
With that handled, my stomach decided to announce loudly that it was dinner time. I took the hint, heading to the kitchen and cooking something simple while continuing to assimilate more of Troy's memories. It had become a bit of a habit during mindless tasks, and it made the process almost meditative.
Dinner was straightforward, and as I ate, I decided that tonight would be a good time to head out for another patrol. Maybe the gangsters had just taken the weekend off, and now that it was Monday, they'd be back to their usual mischief. I smiled to myself, picturing some grungy thug kissing his wife on the cheek and saying, "Time to go to work, honey," before heading out to deal drugs.
Humour aside, maybe tonight I'd actually find someone who needed help. And this time, I was ready.
The streets were not as quiet today as they were yesterday. Today I decided that I would stick to the rooftops and make my way around that way, moving faster and covering more ground. At first, there was little more than dreary people coming home late from work or the night shift staff going to work. But as the night progressed, the number of people slowed.
There were a number of times where I heard police cars in the distance and even a gunshot somewhere off to the west, but they were all too far away from me to intervene or to investigate. So it was with a little bit of agitation and restlessness that I continued my way north towards the train yard and around the docks area. I again saw a number of dealers, but they all scattered when they saw me. It was like seeing rats run from a cat as soon as they saw me, slightly amusing but also rather depressing. I didn't chase any of them down, although I did spend quite a while tailing one of them who seemed to know where he was going. In the end, it seemed that he was actually just a homeless man making his way to a shelter. A massive waste of time, but what can you do, it seems that the Merchants looked practically identical to the homeless anyway.
It was a busier night than the last, but there was little to no overt crime here. It was during my musing and internal grumbling when I heard an alarm ring out not too far from my position. With a grin, I quickly changed course and sprinted in the direction the noise was coming from.
It was a very derelict pharmacy. The windows had been smashed in by the perps and bolt cutters had made work of the lock keeping the metal shutter closed. I heard ransacking from inside and looked around. I then remembered my eyes and metaphorically opened wide. My vision expanded and sharpened, and I found one lookout holding a pistol with three others inside. I didn't know if they were armed, but it would be safe to assume so.
I mentally tried to figure out a plan of attack before anything more could happen. I closed my eyes, although that did nothing to hinder my vision strangely enough, and plotted. Alright, first guy. I could jump that far and land right next to him and then what? Punch him? Taze him? I would go for a punch and if that didn't work, Taze him. Hopefully, if I was quick enough, I would be able to take him down silently.
Then what? Run into the store guns blazing? No, sand blasting. Keep it low level as in not strip your skin off your bones. Hopefully that would blind them (non-permanently) and I could then wade in and take them down like I did the first guy. Alright. Plan sorted, now to put it into action.
I took one more look and saw that the criminals inside were still looting and took a few steps back to give me enough momentum to make the almost 15-meter leap and ran forward. The leap was just as exhilarating as the first few times I did it. And although it was over quick and my face was not visible, there was for some strange reason a massive grin under the bandanna.
The gangster turned to me in shock as I landed within reach of him hard, but before he could really do anything, I snapped forward and landed a punch to his temple. I held back massively, definitely afraid my fist would go through his head like it did through steel, but he dropped like a sack of bricks. I quickly looked him over and saw he was at least breathing and rolled him over. Two pairs of zip ties later, one around his wrists and the other his ankles, I was ready to charge into the store.
Things were not going to plan, sadly enough, as I had taken too long, both plotting and zip-tying an already incapable-of-movement dropped opponent. The first of the thugs was about to walk out. I cussed under my breath and dashed towards the door. As the first exited, I slammed my fist into his gut and as he keeled over, I delivered an elbow to the back of his head. Before he could drop and block the entryway, I pushed him to the side just in time as a gunshot rang out.
I felt it ping off of me, it landed, and I felt my muscle and skin ripple, but that was it. It was a tad painful, but in the same way that you were hit with a small punch that wasn't meant to injure. I was surprised and looked down, seeing the hole in my hoodie when I remembered I was in the middle of conflict. I looked up, but the gangster was already in the process of shooting again. It was harrowing and instinctually scary seeing a gun pointing at you and about to be fired. I ducked to the side out of some outdated sense of self-preservation and panic, but the bullet still hit me in the chest. I shivered at the feeling and tried to master my suddenly rattled mind.
I looked back and the second thug had an actual crowbar he was preparing to bring down on my head. That snapped me out of it. I knew I was tough and bulletproof, but I still didn't want to be clobbered in the noggin. I raised my hand and managed to knock the bat back. I felt another bullet hit me and started to hear all of their shouting and cries now that I was getting back into the swing of things and keeping my panic down.
"He's fuckin bulletproof. It's a fucking cape!" the gunman shouted.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, call Skiddies!" the other replied.
I wasn't really ready for a cape fight and Skidmark could launch his projectiles bloody fast. Enough to go through steel, so that meant that it would likely go through me. I couldn't let them call for reinforcements. I raised my hand, aimed at the gunner, and blasted a cone of sand into him. It was dense and the man was bowled over and screaming about his eyes. God, I hope I didn't permanently blind him. That would definitely be excessive.
As he was flailing, I brought my attention to the suddenly rather scared-looking thug that was holding his crowbar. He made to turn, most likely to run, but I was too close. My right arm pulled back and another 'tap' on the head brought him into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. I then dashed towards the writhing person on the floor and saw that he was staring at me through red eyes that he had managed to clear of sand and were now full of terror. I mentally apologized and punched this guy as well. His head snapped back and hit the concrete hard. Oops, that hopefully wouldn't do anything to further the damage from my hit.
I stood up and let my eyes scan around me. There was no one. It was silent. Even the alarm from the store had turned off. I then dragged all of the Merchants to the curb and zip-tied the last three. A quick pat down divested them of a couple of knives and a spare magazine of ammo.
Honestly, for a first time, it was well, I don't want to say good, because it wasn't. I had panicked and my heart was still racing. And I think I might actually bruise from those bullets, even if they didn't pierce me. But hey. I was standing, and these three were down.
I pulled out my burner phone and dialed dispatch. A quick conversation later where I had to explain that I got this number from Officer Scholtz and a brief overview of what had actually happened, and a squad car was directed my way. Apparently, this far north in the docks wasn't very well patrolled, so I would have to wait a good seven or so minutes for it to arrive. Not a problem, but still a bit annoying.
I turned back to the thugs and made sure that everything was sorted. Their weapons were in a pile a little distance away, they were all secured, and I was on the scene to make sure that nothing else popped up. I figured that now would be a good time to deal with the recording, so I turned off the glasses, ejected the SD card, and inserted a new one. This would show the gangsters red-handed and hopefully could be used to even set the one up for attempted murder. I'm not sure what charges would apply to the lookout, maybe aiding and abetting? No idea, that would be up to the courts.
By now, one of the members had actually woken up and was moaning pathetically, every now and then a cuss would slip out. I decided to just ignore him, and was soon saved from his more coherent by the second ramblings by a squad car turning up. I waved and gestured to the guys on the ground while keeping my hands in a non-threatening position. The cops got out of the car slowly, hands on their weapons, and I spoke up to appease them.
"Hey there, don't worry, I'm a hero. My name is Archon. These four were robbing this pharmacy and I stopped them. I am ready to give a statement and share evidence of their crimes."
"Archon huh. A bit grandiose, but it's your name. Okay, are you the cape that Officer Scholtz was yammering about?" the one on the left asked and I nodded in reply. The two officers then relaxed and took their hands off their weapons.
"Huh, Officer Scholtz was really talkative about you. Said that it's one of the best introductions possible for a new cape, trying to reach out to the cops. He also said that you were planning on getting a camera for evidence?"
I smiled and nodded before tapping the side of my glasses. "Yup, already have the video on a card for you here. The weapons are, as you can see, over there and the drugs that they tried to make off with are over there." I pointed to the relative piles.
It was during all of this that the awake Merchant returned to lucidity and was starting to scream curses and threats my way, shouting about how Skidmark and Squealer would both defile my corpse with their respective powers. One of the officers glared at him, and muttered about how he was so not looking forward to dealing with another loud-mouthed idiot. But he turned and held out his hand to me. A quick shake and introductions and I was helping load the Merchants carefully into the squad car. We spoke and I gave my report on what exactly happened, what alerted me to the crime and how I took down the gang members before the police nodded. I handed over the SD card with the recording of the fight, and soon enough the cops were off.
I was alone again and hopped onto the roof to catch my breath and mentally recover from my first brush with danger. Woah, what a rush. I didn't have the time during the fight to really process much of anything besides the oh-my-god, don't-die, over-the-gun-being-unloaded-at-me moment. So it was much appreciated now being able to focus and take a moment to just breathe.
I felt the spots where the bullets had hit me and shivered. If I wasn't given a superhuman body, then I would likely be dead. I also figured that I didn't fight very well; my planning was lackluster and I didn't make use of my tentacles at all. If I had, I could have taken both of the last two gang members down via choking as soon as they exited the shop, but I had been panicking about the guns. Reliving and reexamining the fight was definitely a good thing to do and I would definitely have to reevaluate my later fights to help me improve.
So with my ruminations finished for now, I figured it was time to head back home.
It was during my homeward-bound walk that I discovered, in the panic, another charge had accrued. I looked around for a calm spot to roll the metaphorical dice and found myself sitting on an old, rusted air conditioner before pulling the mental trigger.
3 - Curse
[Clean and Neat Freak]
|Severity 3|
You are bound by compulsion to be clean and neat, making you very uncomfortable when you are dirty and slightly decreasing your energy recovery and output when you are dirty.
|Resolve: Achieve Adept level Discipline or a trait that increases your mental resiliance.|
Oh… that's… that's not good. I could already feel the discomfort from the sweat on myself, and a lot of other little things suddenly seemed off. The holes in my hoodie suddenly seemed like a much bigger issue than I had thought, and the fact that I wasn't wearing matching socks made me quite angry at myself. Oh man, this gacha just changed the very way my mind worked. That was a heavy problem and a truly scary thing to behold. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do about it. There was no way to ensure that I wouldn't get a curse unless I chose to roll only when I had two charges. But no. I just knew that even if that were the case, I would still get the curse and lose the other charge. Shit. Okay. There was nothing I could do but accept that I was now a neat freak. I would have to find a way to deal with that. Hopefully, there was something in the gacha that could nullify it, but with how large it seemed to be, that could take a very long time.
I sighed, got to my feet, and patted myself down, subconsciously trying to get rid of all the rust I could feel on my clothes. God, I was messy. That couldn't stand. I needed a shower as soon as possible.
The rest of my journey home was a bit bizarre. I suddenly hated the litter and trash I had overlooked on my way out, and the broken glass from windows nearly drove me mad, but I persevered. There was nothing I could actually do about that, and it upset me deeply.
When I got home, the first thing I did was throw my now ruined hoodie and shirt into the trash. I purposefully avoided all the things haphazardly strewn across the countertops and made my way to the shower.
I got into bed but found myself tossing and turning. I just couldn't get the images of my house out of my head. It had used to seem so clean and organized, but now everything was just slightly wrong. I got up and spent the hours until early morning cleaning my apartment, giving everything its own position and spot, perfectly placed and neat. I then dug out the clothes iron, which had only been used when I needed to look my best, and got to work on my clothes, many of which ended up being thrown out. God, I didn't have the money for this curse. Those clothes had been perfectly fine, but now I could barely look at them.
It was eight in the morning when I was finally somewhat happy with the state of my home and belongings, and I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up nice and groggy, late in the day. Wow, how did heroes do this? This balancing act of sleepless nights while trying to operate during the day. I wanted to go back to sleep, but instead I got up and spent nearly ten minutes making my bed as perfect as I could manage. In the end, it looked like an army bunk. You could bounce a quarter off of it.
I shook my head, trying to get out of the semi-daze that the process of making my bed had put me into, and tried to compose myself while figuring out what I would do for the rest of the day. There were a couple of things I wanted to do, so I figured I should sit down and sketch out the basics for a costume. Now that I was a neat freak, certain details couldn't be overlooked. It couldn't have wrinkles, and it would have to be either symmetrical or have some sense of purpose in the murals or design. There could be no random elements or patterns.
Hmmm, now I just needed to figure out what the hell it was going to look like so I could put it on paper. Was I getting ahead of myself? Maybe, but still. If I was going to be a cape, I would need a costume. And with a cape name like Archon and the powers I was getting, it would need to be a grand design, eye-catching and memorable.
A/N:
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