The boardwalk was as busy as ever, even on a school day. Sure, there were fewer kids around, but that didn't mean there were none. Truancy seemed to be a permanent feature of Brockton Bay. Still, not my problem. Wandering past the stores was fun, seeing all the colorful signs and the steady flow of people. It was just… pleasant. Busy, yes, but in a good way. Office workers nursed their morning coffees, suburban moms gathered in jogging groups, and the city enforcers did their best to keep things orderly. This really was the polished front of Brockton Bay.
Parian wasn't performing in the amphitheatre today, which made me wonder if she even came in this early. Still, I could hope. If she wasn't here, I'd just come back around lunch and maybe try one of the nicer restaurants. After all, I had money now; a lovely thing to say.
The front of Parian's store had two tall windows flanking a pair of wooden double doors. Each window displayed mannequins dressed in fashions that looked both expensive and hand-crafted. Some were extravagant enough to belong on runways or at galas, while others were understated yet clever in design. There were suits that carried subtle flairs, small details that turned them from standard attire into something distinctly Parian's.
I lingered there, studying the pieces longer than I'd care to admit. I knew almost nothing about fashion, but even I could tell that what she made was beautiful and precise. Naturally, she would put her best work on display. I smiled to myself and turned toward the doors. They weren't automatic, but carved wood with brass handles and stained glass panels of different colours. It was a little ostentatious, but this was the boardwalk; standing out was part of the game.
Peering through the window, I saw someone at the counter. The lights were on, so I pushed the door open. It swung smoothly on well-oiled hinges. The woman behind the counter was the same one from last time, just as neatly dressed and professional. I offered a smile, and this time I got a more genuine one in return.
"Here to pay Parian for a custom-tailored suit," I said.
Her smile widened, clearly pleased. That wasn't a cheap commission, and it marked me as something more than a window-shopper.
"Of course. I'll see if Parian has time for you," she replied in that well-practised, bright tone of customer service. She disappeared for a few minutes, then returned and led me to the workshop at the back.
Parian was seated at her usual place, centered at her table like a queen in her domain. It was an intentional image, I could tell. I smiled in greeting and got a small nod in return. Maybe she smiled back, but under that porcelain mask, it was impossible to tell. She gestured for me to sit, and I took the seat casually.
"Hi, Parian. Thanks for seeing me. I managed to get the funds you requested for the suit," I said.
I reached into my pocket, and with a little help from the shadows, drew out a bundle of ten hundred-dollar bills. I placed it on the table between us. It was too far for her to reach, but a tendril of cloth uncurled from one of the rolls of fabric and gently lifted it toward her. She thumbed through the bills, then nodded.
"I'm glad to see you back so soon," she said, her voice warm enough to hint at a smile. "I've already purchased the Tinker fabrics. I can begin work today."
"Good to hear," I said. "I was wondering how long it might take. I'm sure your powers make things faster, but I'm curious how long a suit like this usually takes."
She tilted her head slightly, considering. "The material is difficult to handle, but yes, my power helps. I estimate four days from start to finish. You'll need to wear it for the final fitting so I can make precise adjustments. Speaking of which, I'll need your measurements."
"Err… I don't exactly know them," I admitted sheepishly.
Parian gave a quiet, amused sigh. "There's a changing area in the corner," she said, pointing to a curtained section. "I'll take your measurements myself. If you're uncomfortable with that, I can send you to a male tailor I work with. He'll take them for me."
I nodded. "I don't mind you taking them. I assume I'll need to be down to my boxers?"
She hesitated for half a second, fidgeting ever so slightly before catching herself and nodding firmly. Professional mode reengaged.
What followed was a slightly awkward but impressively thorough measuring session. Tape measures of animated cloth fluttered and wrapped around me, taking precise readings of my arms, legs, chest, and shoulders. It was meticulous and oddly clinical. Still, knowing Parian preferred women made me relax a bit. The whole process was almost amusing, watching my body being reduced to a list of numbers on her clipboard.
The awkwardness faded quickly, replaced by a calm, professional rhythm. When she finally finished, about fifteen minutes later, I got dressed again and joined her back at the table.
"With your measurements taken and the deposit paid, that should be everything," she said. "If you have a phone number, I can contact you when it's complete. Thank you for your patronage." Her tone softened at the end, polite but genuine.
I smiled. "Thank you for agreeing to do this. I was worried I'd be stuck looking like a common thug forever. Having a proper suit will help people take me seriously, and maybe help me do some good."
"It's my pleasure," Parian replied. "If that's all, I'd like to begin working on it right away."
I nodded, pushing my chair back. "Of course. Take care, Parian. Here's my number. I'll look forward to your call."
I scribbled my number on a scrap of paper and placed it on the table before heading for the exit.
The door clicked shut behind me as I stepped back into the sunlight. The city felt a little brighter knowing that soon, I'd finally look the part.
Ahhh, there it was again. That familiar tingle of energy running through me, like static crawling under my skin. I was sitting in a coffee shop along the boardwalk, enjoying a decent espresso, when the charge appeared. As always, it came without warning or reason. No pattern, no clear trigger. Still, the possibility of gaining a new power always made my day feel brighter.
I took a slow look around the café, judging that no one would notice if I rolled here. It wasn't like I'd ever had something explode or light up immediately. Taking a breath, I focused and pressed the mental button.
37 - Silver
[Route]
|Common Ability|
You see a line directing you to the location you want to go as long as you precisely know the location of where you want to go.
I frowned into my cup. Well, that was… underwhelming. Not terrible, but not exactly thrilling either. At least it wasn't a curse. Still, it wasn't hard to see the limitations. Sure, I could find my way to a specific place if I knew exactly where it was. That was fine for errands, but useless for anything important. Unless… maybe if I had a picture of a place, that could count as "knowing" where it was? If so, I might be able to use it to find something like Coil's base. Then again, getting a photo of that was about as likely as winning the lottery.
I sighed, finished the coffee, and sat back. I was already starting to see a pattern. One for power strength, one for the power itself. The system was chaotic, but fair enough. Still, I wasn't getting anything close to what I needed.
I left the shop and started walking home. I stopped along the way for groceries, buying slightly better food than usual but keeping it modest. No reason to flash cash or make anyone curious. The sun was out, the air was sharp, and I should have felt good. But my thoughts kept drifting.
What was I actually doing with all of this? Sure, I had powers. I'd been lucky so far. But what came next? Did I keep hitting the drug houses and hope it added up to something? Or did I wait, plan, and bide my time? The city was full of problems, and I was just one guy trying to make a dent.
My mind wandered back to Taylor. The thought of her made my stomach twist a little. I wanted to help her, but how could I even approach that without making things worse? I couldn't just walk into her school and tell her bullies to stop. That would only escalate things. And even if I could somehow talk to her, what could I say that she would believe?
A random guy in black showing up out of nowhere, saying he wanted to help? It sounded shady even to me. She'd see manipulation where there wasn't any, and honestly, could I blame her? Everything in her life had taught her to expect betrayal, not kindness.
Maybe I could try something indirect, like gathering proof of the bullying. Cameras, maybe. Catch the abusers in the act. That idea died almost immediately. Illegal surveillance would just get me in trouble, and if the PRT ever linked it back to me, they'd have leverage. No thanks. The more I thought about it, the more tangled it became. Every path led to complications I couldn't fix.
The truth was that I just wanted to help her. She wanted to be a hero, and I could make that happen. I could give her a chance at the path she'd wanted, before the world twisted her into something else. That should have been enough justification. Heroes help people, right? But the whole thing still felt… wrong. The way I was obsessing over it, planning her life, trying to direct her future like some kind of puppet master, made me uncomfortable.
I paused on the sidewalk and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling. Was I really helping her, or just trying to control something because I couldn't control anything else? That question stung. But even if my motives were messy, the end goal still mattered. I wasn't planning to manipulate her. I just didn't want to fight her later or have her dream of being a hero crushed.
She was going to be powerful. Dangerous. I didn't want to see her end up as the villain she'd been forced to become in another version of this world. If I could steer things before that point, maybe I could save her from herself.
But none of that would happen unless I had credibility. A name. Something that meant my words carried weight. No one listens to a costumeless vigilante. I'd have to make myself matter before anyone else would take me seriously.
That realisation settled the debate in my head. For now, I'd shelve the Taylor situation and focus on building my reputation. Once people started to recognise me as someone reliable, someone capable, then I could think about changing the bigger picture.
By the time I got home, I'd talked myself in circles. I locked the door behind me, leaned against it, and sighed. My place was quiet, small, a little too reflective of how I felt. Lunch was simple, mechanical. The silence pressed on me as I thought about how little progress I'd actually made.
I had all these powers, all this potential, but for what? I was still nowhere near my goals. It was easy to fantasise when reading about heroes, but living it was different. The gap between theory and practice was a canyon. How was I supposed to find Coil? How was I supposed to deal with Endbringers or Scion? Just roll until I happen upon something useful? The thought made me feel hollow.
For a while, I sat there, staring at the table, feeling like little more than a delivery system for the powers I got. A vessel. A mule. The powers were special, not me. They did the work. I just pressed the buttons. That thought hurt more than I expected.
No. I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. The powers didn't make the choices. I did. Whatever I gained, whatever strength I had, it only mattered because I chose how to use it. That was what separated a hero from everyone else.
I straightened, breathed, and forced the spiral to stop. I had direction. My costume was being made, and once I had it, I could start really working. That was a tangible step. A beginning.
I didn't need to wait for everything to line up perfectly. The world wasn't going to pause for me to be ready. If I wanted to make a change, I'd have to take risks. I'd have to act.
So that was it. No more half-measures. I'd start building a network, hitting the next Merchant stash houses, gathering intel, striking fast and hard. Now? I'd move forward.
Taking down a gang, helping people, and making a name for myself? That would be my introduction to Brockton Bay.
The night was dark and full of terrors. Well, that was true enough for Brockton Bay. And here I was, looking like one of the terrors myself. A rather slapdash one. Dressed in all black clothing, sticking to shadows, tentacles writhing from my back, I looked like a budget horror movie monster.
I had been moving through the dodgy parts of the docks, the really down-on-your-luck blocks where accommodation was unsafe and the homeless were plenty. This was prime real estate for merchant dealers, and I was on my third takedown of the night. My method had become routine and cleaner with practice. I took their drugs, let them go, used psychometry to trace the supply back to a stash, then used the new Route power to lay out the most efficient path. What made it useful was how the powers stacked with my mental minimap. The path appeared on it with a little quest marker and everything. Picture, path, waypoint. It was neat. So that is what I had been doing: adding waypoints to my minimap for every gang stash, every hangout the drugs passed through, every point of interest I could find. Efficient. Together, those powers were enough to give me a decent Thinker rating, I would guess.
So there I was in a dark alley, watching another dealer handle a down-on-his-luck customer. It was sad to watch. I had my limits with drugs; I never went into the heavy stuff, and seeing people hand over the last of their money for fake happiness hurt. It was not something I could fix in one night, but I could make it harder for the average person to find drugs.
When the customer left, the dealer counted his cash and moved deeper into the alley. That was my cue. My tentacles unfurled from the shadows and in a blink had him spread-eagled in the air. His eyes went wide, but I had moved so fast he had little chance to react. I leaned in, letting my posture do as much talking as my words. My glasses hid where I was looking, but with my stance and the way he hung in front of me, he knew.
"You will not be harmed," I said, voice low and steady. "I am here to relieve you of your narcotics and your ill-gotten gains. The drugs will be destroyed, and I will move on. Do you understand?"
My line was short and direct, and apparently it was enough. I had underestimated how intimidating someone in black with tentacles can be. He nodded so hard his head bobbed. I used two tentacles to pat him down. There were drugs, about four hundred dollars in cash, a cellphone, a knife and a pistol. He liked to be protected, apparently. I dropped everything into my shadow storage and let him fall. Like the others, he ran, shouting over his shoulder that Skidmark would hear about this. Not my problem. He would hear about me soon enough, regardless of my small interventions.
I climbed the building with my tentacles until I was on the roof and settled down. I pulled the phone from shadow and saw it was password-protected, so I crushed it. Then I turned to the drugs. I focused my psychometry and traversed the intense, dizzying sensation of time moving backwards. I tugged at the object's thread of history until the stash house unspooled before me, and I took a mental image of the place.
With the vision finished, I activated Route and used that image. A line lit up in front of me, and on my minimap, the final location became a waypoint. I kept the waypoint and deactivated Route. No ganghouse appeared in the vision, just another stash. That brought my totals up to two gang safe houses and three stash locations. I smiled. The night was still young, and I had the energy to keep going. If I kept this up for the next few days, by the time my suit finished, I would have a full list of targets to hit, one after another, with no time for them to react.
I pictured the endgame: merchants finished, drugs destroyed, money confiscated, gang members restrained. A clean sweep. I would have to coordinate with the cops so they could be ready to take custody of everyone I rounded up. A small, slightly evil grin spread across my face as I moved across the rooftops to find the next dealer. Soon, even if Skidmark, Mush and Squealer still ran free, they would have no one left to boss around. That was the plan. Not glory. Practical attrition. Still, if they ever showed their faces, I would not shy away.
The following days were both exhausting and oddly rewarding. I spent nearly ten hours a day hitting dealers, then slept through the daylight. I must have taken out a hundred or so by now. They were like cockroaches, hiding in the trash and scurrying free the moment anyone looked away, feeding off the down and out. Luckily, they did not look up much, so finding them was easy when I was dressed in black and moving across the rooftops. Alone, there was nothing they could do to me.
I emphasise alone because on the fourth night I noticed a shift. They started pairing up, and the second always had a weapon in hand. I was becoming a mark. Paranoid and looking to either scare me off or take me down. Shame for them that I had six tentacles and telekinesis. Even if I was Manton limited, I had no trouble confiscating the weapons and then picking the dealers up by their clothes with my tentacles. The only upside was that once I had their guns in hand I could use psychometry on them and fill in more of the weapon stashes. Lucky me.
Speaking of luck, I ran into Squealer twice. She liked patrolling in one of her monster trucks. I decided I would handle them on my terms, not theirs. I would wait for a proper opportunity. Each time Squealer rolled by, I took cover and moved toward the direction she had come from. I was sure I was turning into a bit of a bogeyman for the merchants. The number of dealers on the streets was shrinking day by day. It felt good. It quieted some of the doubts that had been gnawing at me. I was making a difference and it was visible. Plus, dealers started carrying more cash. Either prices had risen to cover shortages, or my take had tightened supply. Either way, it made my night raids more worthwhile and helped the imposter syndrome fade. I was the one behind the powers and I was using them for something that actually mattered.
I kept going. Sometimes I ran into four members watching each other's backs. Those groups I either left alone or took down if the geometry favoured an ambush. From above it was easy: disarm them, drop down, go to melee with tentacles, and use my super strength to keep them down. I was careful about calling the cops in the dens, though. The docks had been getting tense and I did not want a squad rolling into a firefight because I had called them in. When I was away from the immediate danger, or at the edge of the docks, I called them. By my count I had helped put about twenty-five men behind bars last week. That was a number I could be proud of.
So here I was five days in, waiting on my costume to be finished. I had stopped finding new stash houses yesterday and felt like I had the network mapped out. There were a lot of locations. Thirty or so, maybe more that I hadn't yet found. Mixes of stashes, safe houses, and spots where members hung out and partied. I was pretty sure I had found most of them. I had also traced a few strong links back to what looked like a main hub. A couple of stash runs had been moved in Squealer's trucks to a large warehouse Skidmark used. That warehouse seemed to be a functional base with a tinker workshop for Squealer. Mush was the transient face of the business, moving around as an enforcer and presence. Skidmark, surprisingly, kept the books. He actually did something useful for the gang, not just get high and laze about.
That brought me to the question of timing. Do I hit the main hub first, or pick off outlying stashes and work my way in? If I started an assault on the periphery, Skidmark, Squealer and Mush would likely begin checking the dens and patrolling harder. It would be almost impossible not to encounter them soon enough. That argued for taking the fight to them early. Removing the leadership and the tinker support first would reduce the chance of backup calls and lower the risk of collateral damage. It might even shrink their ability to respond at all.
Practically, it made sense. Strike the hub, sever the coordination, and then sweep the smaller locations with less resistance. That would let me control the tempo and reduce the citywide strain on the cops who would need to round people up. I was leaning toward hitting the main hub quickly and decisively.
Yeah. That sounded like a plan.
A/N:
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I won't lie, I was as excited as a preteen on Christmas morning. It was finally ready. My suit. My super suit.
Parian had called earlier that morning, five days after our last meeting, to tell me it was finished. Well, mostly finished. A few small adjustments were still needed to make it a perfect fit, but that would be handled when I came to collect it. Which, of course, meant I was already on my way. I had nothing else to do that morning anyway. My preparations for the Merchants were complete, waiting like dominoes ready to fall.
Honestly, I was both impressed and disappointed by the Merchants. Impressed by how much real logistics and organisation they had managed to pull off, and disappointed by how simple it should have been to dismantle them years ago. You would think the Protectorate could have handled it by now.
Sure, there were logistical concerns and the risk of street fighting once their turf opened up, but come on, it was the Merchants. Their territory was practically worthless. The other gangs would not gain much from moving in. They did not have the same specialisation in low-grade narcotics, and the residents were too poor to make the effort profitable. That was one of the main reasons I decided to start with them. They were the least likely to trigger a full-blown gang war when wiped out.
These thoughts kept running through my head as I walked along the Boardwalk, the sea breeze tugging faintly at me. Beneath it all, I was still practically vibrating with excitement. This was it. My first real step into the world of capes. I could already imagine the Protectorate and the PRT running around like headless chickens, trying to figure out where this professional-looking cape came from and how they dismantled the merchants in days.
I would have to patrol the cleared territory myself to keep things stable afterwards, of course. That would be my responsibility for taking out the merchants and to make sure that the other gangs didn't try to start things there. The thought made my grin widen. It felt right.
The bell over the door chimed as I entered Parian's shop, the scent of fabric greeting me. The same pretty teller was behind the counter again. She smiled as soon as she saw me and waved me through, clearly recognising me from before. After a quick exchange of greetings, she led me into the workshop where Parian was seated in her familiar chair.
I could not help but wonder if she ever even needed to stand up in here. This was her domain, the heart of her power. Everything she could want was within reach, or within her control. I smiled and nodded to her, and she returned it before thanking "Annabelle," who left us alone.
Parian looked at me and snorted. It took me a second to realise I was almost bouncing in place with a huge grin plastered across my face. My cheeks went warm, and I coughed, trying to force a little composure back into my body.
"Yes, your suit is ready," she said, amusement and pride clear in her voice.
"Fantastic," I said quickly, trying to sound calm and not like a kid meeting Santa. "I'm so glad to hear that. I've got the other half of your payment right here."
I reached into the inner breast pocket of my coat and pulled the envelope from the shadow there, setting it on her worktable and sliding it across. Parian did not even count it this time. Apparently, I had earned a bit of trust after our earlier chats. She stood, gestured for me to follow, and led me to the back of the room.
A mannequin stood waiting under a tarp.
I tried to stay cool, but my hands were already twitching at my sides. Parian turned, grabbed the tarp by one corner, and pulled it free in a single motion.
Underneath was… beautiful.
It was everything I had imagined and more. Sturdy, intimidating, elegant. The dark, almost-black base colour caught the light, while the gold accents traced sharp, clean lines along the armour. The helmet and high collar framed it perfectly. And the cape, simple and regal, draped just right.
I reached out and ran a hand down the forearm of the suit. The material felt rubbery but solid, like something halfway between fabric and armour. The gauntlets were harder, layered with the same strange polymer. I looked up at Parian, who was watching my reaction with quiet satisfaction.
"Alright," she began, slipping into professional mode, "so, your suit. I am incredibly pleased with how it came out. There are a few features you should know about the Tinkertech materials."
She stepped closer, gesturing as she spoke. "First, resistances. It has very high electrical resistance and decent flame resistance. It will not stand up to a pyrokinetic, but you will be fine running through a burning building. The material is slightly stretchy, so it will still fit if you gain muscle or weight. It is not breathable, but it regulates temperature well. You will not have to worry about overheating or freezing. If you do sweat, the armour panels can be removed, and the suit is machine washable."
That got a blink out of me. Tinkertech. Machine washable. Incredible.
"It is bullet-resistant too," she continued. "Small-caliber rounds will not pierce, but you will feel the impact. Anything higher than a pistol might go through unarmored spots. The armour panels can handle heavy fire before deforming, and I have arranged a contact for replacements. You can order them through me. I will also patch any holes, though there will be a small fee."
I nodded along, hanging on every word.
"The helmet is reinforced," she said, tapping it lightly. "The visor auto-darkens against flashbangs or sudden bright light. It should protect your head from most impacts, but still, do not rely on it too much. I included a recorder camera on the side as per your request so that you can hand over evidence. As for the cape, it is a simple bulletproof fabric, giving you an extra layer of protection from behind. If anyone grabs it, it is connected to two quick-release points on your shoulders. You will be able to break free instantly."
She paused, meeting my eyes. "The only real weaknesses are gas attacks and high-temperature weapons like laser rifles. Those will cut through the unarmored parts pretty quickly. But overall, it is one of the best things I have made."
I was in awe. Seeing my ideas turned into reality felt surreal. This was mine. My identity. My future.
"This is everything I could have asked for," I said finally. "And so much more than I expected. I knew the materials would be good, but this is incredible, Parian. I cannot wait to try it on."
She nodded, clearly pleased, and waved a hand. The suit unzipped itself and floated gently off the mannequin, gliding into the small changing room.
"Go on," she said.
I did not need to be told twice.
The material was slightly stretchy, making it easy to pull on, and the armour locked into place with satisfying precision. When I fastened the last piece and looked up at myself in the mirror, I felt powerful.
It was a strange feeling, like a switch flipping in my mind. Before, I had been just a guy sneaking through alleys and taking down dealers. Now I looked like someone who belonged on the front page. Someone who could go toe-to-toe with villains and walk away standing tall.
I did a few stretches, checking for pinches or folds. Could not have wrinkles, that would drive my neat freak curse crazy. Then I stepped out.
Parian looked up, and I realised I was almost a head taller than her. I stood straighter than before, shoulders squared. Her posture tensed slightly as she took in the full picture, me moving in the suit instead of it just hanging still. It was imposing.
"I see I need to make a few small adjustments to the neck and wrists," she said after a moment. "Stand still. I will be done in a minute."
She snapped her fingers, and the air filled with motion. Threads, needles, and measuring tapes spun around me in a storm of movement, a blur of controlled chaos. I stood at the center, a statue in black and gold.
Five minutes later, it was done.
Everything fit perfectly. Every seam, every line. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my neck. It was flawless. I resisted the urge to grin like an idiot. This suit demanded poise, control, and presence.
I nodded to Parian, speaking evenly. "Thank you, Parian. This is truly above and beyond what I imagined. If you ever need me, you have my number. I will come if you call."
That sounded suitably professional. I removed my helmet and smiled at her, softer now. "Really. It's great."
"It was my pleasure," she said. "Honestly, it was a fun project. But my request stands. Please do not tell anyone where you got it. I am neutral, and if people find out I do cape work, that neutrality could vanish overnight."
"Don't worry," I said. "Your secret is safe with me."
She smiled. "Good. You're all set then. If you ever need adjustments, repairs, or an upgrade, you know where to find me."
I changed back into my normal clothes and stored the suit safely in my shadow. Everything was ready. Everything was right.
Two points banked. Time to roll them together and see what came next.
With a final warm farewell, I left Parian to her work, flashing Annabelle a grin on my way out.
The Boardwalk was quieter now. The air was cool, the faint sound of gulls echoing somewhere above. My footsteps felt lighter, though my mind was anything but.
For the first time, I felt like a real hero. Not just someone pretending. The weight of the suit still clung to me even without wearing it, like a promise that the games were over. I had always told myself I was preparing, getting ready for the big moment, and now it was here. The suit was not just armour. It was a declaration. A symbol of the person I was trying to become.
Of course, a suit did not make a hero. I still lacked the experience, the scars, the stories. I had never stood toe-to-toe with someone like Lung or fought in the middle of a burning street while people screamed for help. But I would. I had to start somewhere, and now I had the look, the protection, the intent and above all, the determination.
Clack, Clack, Clack
33 - Silver - Boosted to Gold for double charge
[Shadow Travel]
|Rare Ability|
Allows you to sink into shadows and travel inside of them like Black Sabbath from JoJo, if you get hit by sunlight while inside of a shadow you take damage as if you were burnt.
It wasn't flight, but it was still an incredibly useful ability. I could feel the shadows deepen, not darken, not grow, but deepen, as if there was a depth to them that was previously not there. I felt like I could just sink into one, like stepping into a cool pool. I was eager to try this ability out and figured that here at home would be a good way to start. I eagerly rose from the couch and closed the curtains in the lounge. The darkness became a growing pool of power to me.
I had initially had Shadow Storage and hadn't really thought much about it other than it was "cool," but with this latest ability, I could tell that I was not just getting a new shiny thing that was completely separate from what I was used to, but a new aspect of what was already there. Like light shining through a prism and only now seeing another of the refracted colours, it was part of a whole. There was more to the shadows than I had realised, like it had always been there, and I was slowly learning more about it.
I looked around myself and thought of where I wanted to emerge. Not far, just the other side of the room. I took a breath, and within a blink I was there. There was a minor delay between sinking into the shadows and emerging, but it was almost like the blink of an eye. Overall, the whole process took roughly half a second. The sensations that came with it were interesting. The sinking in was like submerging myself in a cold pool, yet there was no water. Maybe more like walking into a bank of really dense fog. It clings to you and is colder than the surroundings, but it doesn't get you wet.
Still, I felt like I was missing something. This was Shadow Travel, not Shadow Teleport. So I tried again, this time without a destination in mind, and that was when it got strange. I sank into the fog bank and found myself in what felt like a mirror world. Everything was upside down, as if I had fallen through the bottom of a video game map. I could move around freely, and I did. The entire world was a collection of greys and blacks. Wherever there was shadow, I could see, and wherever there was light, it was whited out.
That's not to say that everything in the sun was invisible. Everything created shadows, and from below I could see shadows moving across the sunlit streets. Those must have been people. The shadows were too small for me to emerge from, not that I tried. I was still wary of that warning that said the sun would burn me if I tried to get out of a shadow that was hit by sunlight. But I could see them. I couldn't make out their features, but I could count them and see where they were going.
I decided to see what distance I could move. But first, I looked around further and thought about my Shadow Storage. I tried to pull up that feeling of the items that were contained, and there they were, hovering around me as if summoned. I smiled and reached for some of my cash. I could feel it in my hand, but it was also smoky. It wasn't intangible, but it wasn't fully solid either, like it was inverted into its own shadow and just waiting to be turned inside out to become real again.
I smirked and looked at my costume. It had been folded, but with a thought, it unravelled and smoothly overlaid itself on me, the clothes I had been wearing phasing off and being inverted into their shadow state. I was now dressed in my costume, and it took less than a second to do so. So convenient.
Now prepared, I started moving. I practically flew across the undercity and was making incredible time. I kept an eye above me and simply enjoyed the sense of movement. Before I knew it, I was at the edge of the trainyards. Then, with a thought, I flew closer to the ceiling of this reality and started looking for larger, more stable shadows I could emerge from. It was strange being able to see through the shadows, as floors and depth meant nothing here. It would be just as easy for me to emerge on the third floor as it would be from the first.
While it would normally make no sense, looking up at the world from underneath and being able to just see the third floor without being obstructed by the first two felt instinctive. So, with that, I chose an abandoned warehouse and simply willed myself up and into the center of it. And there I was, just there, back in reality with that strange sense of emerging from the fog.
I had just covered a large portion of the city in minutes, and most of that was spent experimenting and playing around. I figured I would be able to travel the entire length of the city in seconds if I really wanted to. I looked around, realising that I hadn't been conscious of where exactly I was emerging from, and was relieved to find myself alone. I should probably be more careful in the future.
Heh, alright, this would make scouting places much easier. And with that thought, I descended into the darkness and made my way home, changing while I flew. Back in my home, I opened the blinds again and decided to take a nap. I had a long night hitting merchants, after all. Now that I had my costume, there really wasn't much I needed to wait for.
I will not lie. When I woke up, I did have some doubts. Doubts about myself, my preparation, my capabilities and my motives. I had talked before about what it meant to be a hero, and right now those niggling doubts were working on the edges of my resolve.
I was sitting in my lounge after a light dinner, waiting for the right time, for the night to properly settle. I had a plan, and all I had to do was follow through. Knowing that what I planned would have consequences that were indescribable made it daunting. It felt like a mark against the Protectorate's preference for keeping the peace rather than making an impact. Things were bad and could be worse, and even if what I did was objectively good, the unforeseen consequences might be worse than the thing I fixed. That thought had me frowning, but I could not let it stop me.
The city was sick and dying. Troy's memories had shown me that, and it was only getting worse. There was little that was positive, and what there was felt like a facade. The primary money maker in this city was medical tourism. That was not great. Medhall, the primary employer, was a front for actual Nazis, and Panacea was one bad day away from turning someone inside out. But I digress. The whole city was circling the drain, and everyone was just trying to stay above water. People were so afraid of drowning that they would not make waves that might be beneficial in the long run. It was not sustainable.
I was terrified of creating another Boston Games situation, but honestly, the only groups that might be worse than what we have were the Fallen and the Teeth. Those, I reckoned, I could deal with. The Fallen had masters I did not yet have a defence against, but with care and research, I hoped to get the drop on them. Still, I found myself thinking about how I could make things worse rather than how I could make things better.
I sighed and felt that ever-present starscape inside me flare. A charge dropped in. Hopefully, this one would be useful. I did what was becoming familiar and rolled.
30 - Silver
[Minor Healing Light]
|Uncommon Ability|
Allows you to bathe a target in healing light, restoring a portion of their health and vigour. Effect scales with your power level. Stronger targets need more energy to heal.
Ahhh, a healing ability. Fantastic. It might not be the strongest I could get, but I would happily accept it. I mentally poked at it, trying to figure it out, and got a rough idea of what it could do. It would be useless against disease and cancer, but for broken bones and cuts? Yes, it would be perfect for battlefield and wound triage. I was already plenty strong and had a decent reservoir within me, so I knew that I would be able to heal a good number of serious cases before needing a break. Still, it would grow with use. It would also grow the more powerful I became. For example, if I gained an ability that increased my stamina or strength, this too would see improvement.
Now I didn't really have to worry about broken arms or being shot with a higher-caliber gun. Sure, it would hurt, but as long as it didn't kill me, I should be able to heal myself and others of those wounds. I smiled. Maybe some time at the hospital would be a good idea. I was a bit hesitant to get close to Panacea, but if I could help her, then I should.
Alright, that was nice and all, but it was almost time to move on. Almost time to get to work. I took those doubts that had been growing within me and tried to accept them, countering each one with reasonable arguments. I knew that suppressing them would only make them come back worse later, so I did my best to address them as they came. And sure enough, as I reminded myself that the city as it stood wasn't sustainable, the doubts about making things worse slowly began to fade. The fear of repercussions, on the other hand, was harder to deal with. But with a determined declaration to face whatever came my way with as much power and honesty as I could muster, those worries were slowly pushed to the back of my mind. When I was finally in some semblance of control, I nodded to myself and closed the blinds. It was time to get to work.
The first thing I needed to do was to alert the cops. I had kept this operation to myself for fear of the Merchants readying themselves. It would be inevitable for them to hear news of what was happening by the end of the night, but I figured the more unaware they were, the smoother the operation would go. Thus, I decided that the police would only hear about it just before the operation so that the moles would only get the word out at the last possible second. I dialled Officer Scholtz's number and hoped he was on duty.
"Scholtz here," I heard through the phone.
"Officer Scholtz, this is Archon. I wanted to let the police know that I'm preparing a blitz campaign against the Merchants tonight, and I'm going to need a lot of cells and wagons ready for a large influx of people."
"Archon? That… this is very last-minute. I mean, we'd be happy to help, but I don't think we have the facilities for what you're talking about. If I'm understanding you right, you plan on hitting a couple of Merchant stronghouses?" he asked, a bit confused.
"No, Officer. I'm going to hit all of the Merchant houses tonight. Weapons, drugs, safehouses. All of them. Including the capes. I have their locations, I have the ability, I just need your help to get them into cells," I clarified.
"Archon, look, this doesn't seem like a good idea. Even if you could get them all, the system won't be able to handle them. You've done some good work so far, but it isn't that easy to take a gang out. If, and that's a big if, you manage to hit them all, then what will the other gangs think? It will be war in the streets," Officer Scholtz said.
"Look, Officer, I know it sounds like a big claim, but this needs to happen. If we manage to get the Merchants wrapped up, we could do so much for this city. I know it'll be near impossible to stamp out the drug trade completely, but an organised drug trade? We can clear that up. How many cases of overdoses do you get? How many deaths from the Merchant capes, especially hit-and-runs from Squealer, who's often too high to drive straight? I can do this. I can make things better for people. And I know the consequences will be heavy, but this city is only getting worse. We have to do something while we still can."
"Look, Archon, this all sounds really great, but still… what you're talking about seems like a dream, and I'd love to believe it, but I really think this needs more preparation. What do you think will happen with the other gangs?" he asked.
"They won't move into the territory of the Merchants, at least not the poor areas. It isn't valuable enough for them. That will make the poorest in this city all the safer. I want to do this for them," I said.
"Archon, sure, the other gangs will leave the majority of the territory clear, but that isn't all that will happen. The other gangs will reel from the Merchants being taken down in a single night, and that's a bad thing. They'll posture, they'll beef themselves up and prepare for war, and if they can't find you to take their displeasure out on, then it'll be the people who suffer. Because if a gang prepares for war and can't find it, they'll wage it against whoever they can find," Scholtz pleaded.
"Officer, I understand. I'm not just going to do this and disappear. I'll still patrol. I'll still be there. But you have to see that things aren't sustainable. If I have to do this whole thing alone, then I will. But honestly, I need your help. I need you to believe that things can get better," I replied, trying to put as much conviction in my voice as I could.
"Archon… I… Fuck. Fine. You need help, then you'll get it. I'll prepare the cells and start calling in off-duty officers. Although I'll need to bring the Protectorate in on this. We just don't have enough cells to hold them all, let alone the capes. Will you be waiting at the scene of the houses when you call them in?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not. There are too many houses to hit tonight. I'll make sure they're focused on me, but I'm taking out their headquarters first. That should stop most backup from arriving. I'm pretty confident they'll be reeling too hard to focus on the places that are already hit. They'll try and beef up those that are yet to be attacked. I also can't leave half of them for tomorrow. If they're aware that I know where they are, they'll just scatter into the wind, and I won't be able to do a clean sweep. So that means I'll have to go from place to place. Hit them hard and hit them fast," I said.
"Fine. I'll let you go and get the process started. You have the number for dispatch. Call the cleared houses in, and we'll move in as quickly as possible and secure them. Damn it, Archon. I was almost off duty. But nonetheless… good luck," he said.
With that, I closed the connection and took a deep breath. Time to make my mark. I slowly slipped into the shadow beneath me and changed before flying across the undercity towards the Merchants' major safehouse. Let's hope that Squealer and Skidmark are there.
A/N:
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The main base of the Merchants was an old warehouse complex. And when I say complex, I mean a walled-off collection of three different warehouses. They had, at one point, been separate buildings, but I assume that as the Merchants decided to set up their headquarters here, they had slowly been 'upgraded', and I use that term generously.
Looking at it from below, in my shadowlands/undercity, I could see that interconnected corridors tying the various buildings together had been built out of scrap metal and corrugated sheeting. Where those makeshift corridors met the walls, holes had been cut to act as passages so people could move from one building to another without having to step outside.
The warehouses themselves had been carefully maintained and slowly repaired with scrap metal and other pieces of detritus. Overall, it looked like an amalgamation of buildings being Frankenstein-ed into one whole complex.
From below, I watched the moving shadows cast by bodies drifting through the light fittings' rays. There were many people inside, and some were clearly patrolling the outskirts. That made an outside approach difficult. The numbers and the sightlines meant I would not be able to sneak in from the outside easily. Luckily, I could skip that part and just materialise inside the shadows near my targets.
I was a bit worried about heavier calibre rounds. If I gave Skidmark or Squealer time, one of them could either lay enough kinetic fields to hurt me or get into a vehicle and shoot me with cannons.
I decided to take a few minutes to plan this properly rather than rush. Rushing is how you get dead. So how was I going to approach this? Taking the Parahumans off the board was the most important thing right now, but I still needed to figure out how to accomplish that.
One warehouse had been turned into a workshop for Squealer; another was clearly a drug and money storage. The last, however, looked like living quarters. There were lots of bedrolls and people hanging around. From down here, everyone appeared as nothing but moving shadows, so I could not make out who was who. I had no idea if Skidmark was here or somewhere else.
I was fairly confident I had Squealer located. A shadow hovered around some giant monstrosity of a machine, which I took to be Squealer's latest monsterpiece. There were others in the workshop, but not many. This was a big operation, and I was starting to worry about actually managing to take everyone here down.
I had strength and telekinesis, my major offensive powers, but so far, I had yet to gain anything that was decidedly nonlethal. Sure, I had worked very hard to maintain my strength, practice, and I had pretty much locked down an acceptable amount of force that could be used to knock someone out, but that itself was still dangerous and put me on a razor's edge between causing brain damage and merely rattling someone's head.
The thing was, I really did not have much of a choice. I could go for strangling, but that took time, and I had a feeling the Merchants would not be careful about friendly fire, and that was something I wanted to avoid at all costs. Any friendly fire incident would be on my head, and that was leverage I could not give anyone over me.
So I 'sat' in the shadowlands and pondered.
I really couldn't come up with a long-term goal to take down this entire operation, as any attack they became aware of would throw any proper plan into disarray. You know what they say about plans and first contact with the enemy. So... keep it loose and flexible. I could do a detailed first hit, but then I would have to take things as they came. Alright, I could do this. I had no idea where Skidmark was, and that was a variable I would have to be careful about, but Squealer? Yeah, she would be my first target.
With a rough outline of what I was going to do, I slowly materialised myself into the real world, lying flat on my belly under her latest project. There was a large space under the vehicle, obviously, to give the monstrosity plenty of clearance to go over other things, so that worked out for me. I carefully looked around the space and counted the legs I could see in this warehouse. There were piles of junk scattered about, meaning that there could be others outside of my view, but with a mental toggle, I activated my Byakugan. Yeah, there were loads of people in this complex. After a quick count, I got to the number twenty-eight. Damn. They really were guarding this place properly. Alright, the closest person to me was clearly female from her outline and the look of her legs, so I had to assume this was Squealer. So, take her down, disable the tank above me and then move on to the others in the room. I had to go loud, as all of the warehouses were open plan, and I wouldn't have been able to pick them off one at a time.
I activated my tentacles and slowly and silently crawled forward to within reach of her legs, and with a sudden movement, I had her legs gripped and yanked. There was a shriek of surprise from her as she fell onto her back, but as she did, I dragged her under the truck. The shout immediately alerted everyone in this warehouse, most of whom came running, but by that time it was too late for Squealer. I had already choked her out. It was indeed Squealer. She was dressed as a mechanic and was wearing a welding mask, maybe not as a cape outfit, maybe she had been welding, but I was confident that only Squealer would be working directly on the machine and as a ratty but buxom blonde woman, well... I was pretty certain it was her.
So with Squealer now unconscious, I dropped back into the shadows and tried to pull her with me. If I could store people in the shadowland, that would be perfect for keeping all of the victims safe while I worked; sadly, it was not to be. As I sank down, she remained. She would still be safe under the undercarriage, so I felt confident she wouldn't catch a stray bullet.
As quickly as I could, I slipped into the shadow of a nearby scrap pile and, with a raised hand, unleashed a spray of sand from my sandblast power. I aimed to fill the room with an obscuring cloud. It took a few seconds, but between the confusion and the Merchants' shouts, the warehouse was quickly filled with sand. There. Let's see them try and work together and find me in that. With visibility reduced to almost nothing and the sand settling fast, I could run around and take them out as quickly as possible.
I peered around the corner and, using my Byakugan to see through the dirt, picked out five people who had clustered near the vehicle. I did not want anyone getting inside and activating weapons, so I used telekinesis on their clothes and pulled them toward me. They flew through the air into my tentacles, and I choked each one out as gently as I could. I laid them down out of the way, pressed into the cover of the scrap. Hopefully, that would keep them safe from stray shots. I breathed once and, through the still-settling sand, spotted three more Merchants stumbling about with their arms raised, most likely holding guns. I ripped the weapons from their grasp with telekinesis.
Of course, there were shouts and attempts to coordinate. The whole compound was now on alert, and the calls of "Cape!" made it plain they were under attack. Still, plans and first contact and all that. With the three disarmed, I ran in and used my tentacles as before, rendering them unconscious while I still had cover. That was another three down in a couple of seconds. By the time the sand had finished falling, the air was clear.
I scanned for more targets, and then the first bullet found me. It was a pistol round and not something heavier. It struck the small of my back and would have paralysed anyone who was not a brute. I was very grateful for my enhanced durability, my armour and the Merchants' lack of heavier weapons. I dashed to the side with my latest victims and packed them down into the scrap pile for cover. Alright. That makes Squealer, then five, then three. That's nine. Nineteen left.
Peeking around my cover, I was not thrilled to see that Skidmark had arrived. He was busy laying down glowing purple kinetic fields across the doorway while spewing some of the most creative vitriol I had ever heard. I mean, the man must have rehearsed this stuff. There was no way anyone could improvise half those words on the spot. What even is a "speckle-ridden clam-muffling dumpster dick-eating wart throat"?! Still, as impressive as his vocabulary was, I had more pressing concerns, namely, the bullets flying through the kinetic field, accelerating until they started eating through my cover. Luckily for me, I am a teleporter.
I ducked down fully, sank into the shadow beneath me, and emerged behind the group. Unfortunately, I wasn't behind all of them. I was behind Skidmark, but there were still several Merchants further back. The narrow corridor linking the buildings was getting crowded fast. Between the close quarters, the sheer number of them, and the weapons on display, I would have to rely on brute force. There wasn't time to hold anyone in the air long enough to choke them out.
My fists and tentacles went to work. I hit stomachs, legs, and, when I was sure I could control my strength, heads. I moved as fast as I dared, batting aside melee weapons as they swung for me. Luckily, the Merchants seemed to realise that firing guns here would be just as dangerous for them as for me, so they stuck with blunt instruments and blades. Slowly, the area around me cleared as I laid waste to their ranks. A few I managed to knock out cleanly, but most were groaning on the floor in pain, a couple vomiting from gut punches. I ignored the stench and readied myself to move on, then something slammed into my shoulder, spinning me almost completely around.
A brick. A red powder-trailing, supercharged brick launched straight through the air. The impact was brutal, even for me. It didn't break anything, but if I'd been unenhanced, I'd have lost an arm.
"Take that, you scumpumper! Mess with the Merchants, why don't ya?!"
I clutched my shoulder as my tentacles shot up to shield my head, just in time for another brick to smash into them and disintegrate into dust. The shock of the blow rattled through my body. My shoulder throbbed; it was dangerously close to breaking.
Think. Think. If I teleported away, I'd leave everyone here at the mercy of a screaming Skidmark. If I charged forward, his kinetic fields would launch me back. He was already layering more, boosting the speed of his projectiles, and it wouldn't be long before one of those bricks went through me instead of shattering.
Fine. No time to hesitate.
I reached out with telekinesis, grabbed a handful of his filthy clothes, and yanked him forward.
Please don't die, I prayed silently.
"Fuuuuuuck!" he screamed.
Oh, hell, he was fast. I threw myself to the side as Skidmark's body launched straight through his own field, moving at a speed that would be lethal if I didn't do something. I really didn't want to see him turn into a cloud of blood and broken bones against me. Luckily, my dodge worked, and he shot past in a blur. I reached out with telekinesis and tried to slow him down mid-flight.
It worked... sort of.
He didn't die, but he did crash into another unfortunate Merchant at the far end of the corridor. The impact was loud, sickening, and final enough to tell me both of them would need medical attention. Still, broken bones were better than dead bodies. Skidmark was definitely down, and I could always heal him later. Right now, I had bigger problems.
A quick glance around the corridor told me seven more were on the ground in various states of unconsciousness or agony. Add Skidmark and his human crash mat, and that made nine. So, eighteen out of twenty-eight down. Ten left. Most were closing in on my position, though one, visible through my Byakugan, was outside, talking frantically into a phone. Too far for me to reach before he finished. Damn it. That was definitely a call for reinforcements. But for now, I couldn't afford to worry about that.
Gunfire echoed from the direction of the recreational warehouse. I winced as another shot rang out and a scream followed. That came from one of the people I'd already put down. Idiots. The Merchants were shooting wildly, trying to hit me and hitting their own instead. Alright. Focus. If they're screaming, they're alive.
I darted forward, sprinting toward the gunmen. It wasn't until I was almost on top of them that I remembered I had telekinesis and could've just disarmed them first. Too late now. They'd already begun pushing into the corridor, five of them, maybe more waiting further back.
I tore the weapons from their hands, ignoring the one with a switchblade who managed to slash my arm. The blade bounced harmlessly off my gauntlet, not even leaving a scratch. With them disarmed, I made quick work. My tentacles lashed out, wrapping around throats and pulling them down. Within seconds, the corridor was quiet again.
Finally, a moment to breathe.
By now, it was pointless to try and interrupt the Merchant on the phone. The call for backup had almost certainly gone through. I would have to wait here and hit whoever showed up. I was betting on Mush. He was the only other parahuman member of the Merchants at this point. I took a breath, got my head back in the game, and scanned through the walls with my Byakugan to locate the others. Four were in the drugs warehouse, and the last one was finishing his call.
I slipped into the nearest shadow and dropped down again. With a thought, I was directly behind a Merchant who was stuffing a duffel bag with cash and contraband. It was a drop in the ocean of what they had, but still a decent haul. I reached out, seized his neck, and lifted him into the air until his struggles died away, then dropped him. Another Merchant was staring at me with pure terror, backing away with his hands in the air. I dashed forward, used my super strength to propel myself, grabbed his shoulder, spun him around, and ziptied his hands behind his back. I forced him to his knees, ziptied his ankles together, then another strap to bind his wrists to his ankles. He was not going anywhere, and he had surrendered. He didn't deserve the rough treatment.
Another bullet pinged off my injured shoulder, increasing the pain. I swallowed a groan and focused my telekinesis on the shooter's clothes. He flew toward me. A tentacle disarmed him while another hoisted him into the air by the throat.
Whew, I am getting really good at choking people out, I thought, wondering how my life had come to this. As he dropped, I looked around. Two others had bolted. I activated my Byakugan and then froze.
I had not disabled the vehicle. Squealer was still under it. Shit. I teleported to the garage as fast as I could, burst from the shadows behind a pile of scrap, and hurled myself at the armoured personnel carrier. The engine was idling, and I could picture the driver reaching for the gearstick. With a heavy, focused effort, I mentally gripped the whole truck and began to lift it. It was heavier than the train car I'd practised on, but with the bolted-on plating, it made sense. I was close to struggling, but I held it, rolled it over, and dropped it upside down a few metres from Squealer.
I could not believe I had let disabling the vehicle slip during the chaos. It was part of my initial plan, but between all the shooting and dealing with Skidmark, it had slipped my mind. I took a breath and moved to the front of the wreck, ignoring the wheels still spinning uselessly in the air. I cocked my fist and four of my tentacles, the other two jammed into the ground to steady me, and launched my appendages into the engine. Six holes were ripped into the block. Gears misaligned and tore against one another as my hands and tentacles shredded the machinery. The wheels slowed and stopped. A door opened, and a terrified Merchant crawled out of the cabin.
He gibbered and pleaded nonsense. He was high, but whatever shock he had just taken had sobered him a little. He scrambled backwards on hands and feet. A tentacle lashed out and grabbed his ankle, dragging him toward me. He screamed. I was not moved. A few moments later, he stopped moving. I took a brief moment to ponder what a dark, professionally armoured, intimidating figure I must depict before shaking it off.
Three left. I scanned again and saw nothing with my Byakugan vision. Damn. Twenty-five out of twenty-eight was not bad, but it was not the sweep I had been hoping for.
Fuck me, that was intense. Not my best work. I could have done so much better. I should have been teleporting more; I should have used my telekinesis harder, using it to both protect me and reposition the enemies. I'd forgotten my plan at the first sign of opposition, and that irked me. Fuck, this was a clusterfuck. Still, I tried my best and I learned a lot. I was lucky I did not take any serious injuries. My shoulder still ached, and although I took a bullet to the small of my back, the impact was robbed of its force by my cloak and the armour. It had scared me, though, that instinctive fear of guns. I needed to be more conscious of the fact that small-calibre weapons were not a serious threat as long as I stayed careful.
I laid a hand on my shoulder, activated my healing ability, and the pain immediately dulled. What felt like a cracked bone knitted back together. The healing reminded me there were Merchants in serious need of help, like the unlucky one hit by his ally… And Skidmark.
I dashed to the corridor where the worst of the wounded were and began inspecting them. A couple had broken bones, an unfortunate but understandable consequence of panic and being surrounded by armed thugs. The shot Merchant seemed luckier. He had been hit in the thigh and had the sense to apply pressure. He moaned and looked at my armoured visage with a healthy amount of fear. I raised my hands in a gesture of peace and said, "Be at ease. I can heal your wound. You are captured, but you do not need to bleed out."
Getting shot was no joke. Even in a seemingly safe spot like the leg, there are arteries that can gush, and the shock from a bullet can be dangerous. I crouched, placed my hands on either side of the hole, and channelled my healing into the wound. The Merchant's eyes widened and cleared as the drugs left his system and the damage closed. Slowly, the bleeding stopped. With a soft, weird little squirm, the bullet eased out of the wound, and the skin sealed behind it. He looked at me, and I smiled, though he could not see it behind my full-cover mask.
"Hands behind your back," I said simply. He nodded and complied.
I did not know how long until reinforcements would arrive, but my first priority was getting these Merchants restrained and into a safe place where they would not be shot again. I also had to fix the broken bones I had caused, and I still had Skidmark to deal with. Instead of sighing, I steadied myself and set to work. I healed the worst injuries one by one while using telekinesis to gather the dropped weapons and stow them in my shadow. It took about ten minutes to clear the corridor and make my way to the workshop, hauling the bound bodies behind me, and another three minutes to round up the remaining Merchants. I lined them up, some hog-tied if conscious, and the rest zip-tied; hands and ankles; if not.
I did not have time to savour the win. Vehicles were approaching. Reinforcements. I could not fight here with all these people disabled and unable to get to cover, so I ran for the recreational bunk room and the large warehouse doors. Yes, I should have teleported, but I was still learning. At least I recognised my mistakes.
I was about to yank open the steel shutter when a massive arm made of scrap smashed straight through it. Whether luck or some kind of sensory ability didn't matter; Mush hit me full force, and I flew backwards, slamming into the ground and rolling for a couple of metres. Bollocks. It hurt, but it did not take me out. I hauled myself up and watched the shutter ripped clean from the wall. That must have taken a tremendous amount of strength. Maybe I had underestimated Mush's threat rating.
First things first, deprive him of material. I reached out to telekinetically rip the detritus forming his arm away, but a spray of bullets caught me. Shit. Machine gun. I tried to teleport, but I was standing directly under a light. That wouldn't work. I launched myself sideways with my strengthened legs and reached out again. The gun was my priority. If I had not waited for my suit before tackling this den, those rounds might have taken me down. With a thought, the gun tore from the Merchant's hands and hurtled toward me. He dove for cover as if he had remembered to be sensible.
I dropped the weapon into my shadow and looked at Mush. He had by now flowed into the room like a tide of rubbish. He did not speak, and I could not tell if he was the silent type or if his golem form simply could not. Either way, his silence did nothing to slow him down.
If I could rob him of materials, he would be harmless. My telekinesis brushed past him, failing to latch onto the scrap. Shit. That meant the material was considered a part of his body, and I was Manton limited. I could not just tear him apart.
I dodged an overhead blow by a sliver, my super speed saving me from being crushed, and watched as a chunk of material blew off his fist. That could be my way in. I gathered the knocked-off scrap and launched it deep into the warehouse where he could not reach it. It was only a few percent of his mass, but every little bit helped. He roared and I realised he could speak after all.
Time for a new plan. My sandblast. I had only used it for obscuring sightlines so far, but the power description made it clear it could rend and shred metal and flesh. Maybe I could disarm him with it. I was mid-fight and still learning, which was why I took another hit. Mush's massive hand smacked me and sent me into a reinforced wall a dozen metres away. The impact rattled me but did not break me. If that force had been concentrated into a point, it would have skewered me, but instead it was spread along the whole of my body.
A giant fist with a microwave oven at its centre came down toward me. I rolled and narrowly avoided it, but before I could recover, Mush swept his arm and I was launched again. This time, I ragdolled along the floor. When I finally stopped, I forced my bruised body upright. My bones ached. Probably fractured, luckily not broken. I did not have time to heal. Mush was advancing.
I steadied myself. I raised both hands and aimed at each of his legs, then released a full-power sandblast. It worked in a horrifyingly efficient way. The sand shredded the loose scrap and trash that made up his legs, and within four seconds, they detached. I immediately gathered the detached pieces and flung them to the far side of the room, well out of his reach.
There was a groan and then a scream of anger from Mush before the trash around him began to writhe and reform into his golem shape. He was much smaller now. Where before he had been about thirteen feet tall and eight feet thick, he was closer to nine feet. Okay, that was effective.
Before I could raise my hands and try again, this time to literally disarm him, he charged. I had to throw myself to the side to avoid the impact, and luckily, his turning circle was poor. I raised my arms and blasted. One of his arms shredded from solid scrap into pieces no larger than my thumb. Too small for him to reintegrate. He shouted, and I ignored it, repositioning behind him. He swung his other arm, trying to slam me into the wall, but this time I was ready. I leapt up and called my tentacles. As his fist passed below me, I reached forward and grabbed his torso. Four tentacles held me in place while my fists and the remaining two tentacles dug into him. Trash flew off, and I launched the debris away before the red tendrils that bound him together could reclaim it. It was working, slowly, until he raised his arm, and I had to dive clear to avoid being crushed in a one-armed bear hug.
I skidded across the floor and stabbed my tentacles into the concrete to stop my momentum. He was slow to right himself. Whether from pain or exhaustion, I could not be sure, but it was an opportunity I would not waste. I pointed at his legs and sent a stream of sand blasting forward, but before I could sever another limb, a rifle cracked and a bullet punched into my back. My cape, then the armour, and then my brute durability stopped it from penetrating, but the force staggered me, and a second shot slammed into my gauntlet, jerking my arm wide.
The two shooting Merchants were easy targets for telekinesis. I pulled their weapons free, then gripped their clothes and flung them to the other side of the warehouse. I heard the sickening crack of bones as they hit. I did not wait to confirm if they were properly down for the count; I returned my focus to Mush, now charging headfirst with feet hammering the floor. I rolled and was almost clear, but I was clipped and spun before I landed. Without my brute rating, I would have been put down ages ago.
I stayed down and sent more sand at his legs. I did not want to risk hitting his torso, where his body seemed to be. The sand shredded his lower limbs again, and his torso smacked the floor, more scrap scattering. I snatched the pieces away as quickly as I could. For a fleeting instant, I thought I saw something like skin beneath the trash as the golem, barely larger than a human now, staggered upright.
Using sand at full power would cripple him, so I switched to fists. I used my tentacles like legs to launch myself up, bringing me level with him so we could trade blows. I ducked a massive microwave fist and drove my own into the side of his torso. Instead of retracting, I swept my arm and sent more of his scrap flying. I buried a tentacle through his hand; there was a shower of debris, and another telekinetic sweep gathered most of it to the far end of the warehouse.
My head throbbed from the mental work, but I pushed on. One, two, three, punches, swipes and pulls with tentacles kept him off balance and stripped scrap from him with every hit. After maybe a minute of trading blows, his shoulder began to show actual skin. I smirked under my mask and dashed in before he could cover the gap. I grabbed his shoulder, pulled with everything I had, and actually managed to wrench him out of his trash. He looked at me with something like fear. I did not speak. I hauled him upright with a tentacle and started choking him.
Then silence. The other Merchants had scattered when I disarmed them. A quick scan with my Byakugan showed no life signs nearby. I dropped and zip-tied an unconscious Mush and looked at the wreckage around us. The trash had been swept away, leaving the recreational bunk room almost like an arena, a cleared circle where we had fought.
I sank onto the dirty but cleared floor and took deep breaths. That had not been as easy as I hoped, but what a way to get the blood pumping. It had taken maybe thirty minutes all told, but the parahumans of the Merchants were down, and their headquarters were quiet. Now I just needed to secure the rest of the rank and file, collect their cash as my tax and line them up for the cops and Protectorate.
A/N:
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