A daring synthesis - Ironypus - Parahumans Series (2024)

"Hello, I would like to join The Wards please."

The receptionist never lost his sunny grin, "Of course-"

"Awesome!" I beamed, looking around the lobby of the PRT building. "Can I see Miss Militia? She's my favourite, really makes the Army look work if you know what I mean. Plus, sick guns, man. I have her PS4 shooter, do you know her rank? Anyway, I'm Plat I bet I could 360 no scope her ten times out of ten. Probably tell her this is urgent though, Coil's after me."

I tapped my nose, giving him a significant look.

"Of course he is," the receptionist still grinned. "Why don't you take a seat over there?"

He pointed to a neat row of chairs along a wall.

"Thanks, chief!" I tipped him a quick, two-finger salute and strutted to the chairs. I plopped myself into one and equipped my phone into my hand.

xX_Void_Cowboy_Xx: just checkin in to the join the wards lol

GStringGirl would love this, I was a cape now and bitches love capes. Also, she was a bigger capenerd than me somehow, and she'd kill for any insider info. And now, for her, I could be the biggest PRT security breach ever!

I was a good friend.

I put my phone away and tapped on my knees to the tune of some J-Pop, joining the Wards was a good decision. I'd researched, of course. Sure for the first year or whatever I'd be making minimum wage, but I'd still be getting that crisp 50k trust fund. Plus I'd be famous, especially after the first year when my powers were really growing.

Or at least I assumed that was how they worked, like, I was an RPG character now or some sh*t and they all got to get crazy strong at max level. Even if for some reason I got no extra skills and capped out at max human stats, I still healed to full health every hundred minutes and could Observe.

Triumvirate tier, no doubt!

"Are you ready, sir?"

A voice jolted me out of my contemplation of my own awesomeness. I looked up to see a hefty security guard giving me a bored sort of customer service smile.

"Absolutely!" I pop and locked to my feet. "Lead the way!"

I followed him as he started walking towards the exit for some reason… No. This was a test!

"Nice try," I said smugly, stopping and putting my hands on my hips. "But you won't fool me with that, a faker would have fallen for it but I'm the real deal, right down to the marrow of my bones."

The guard sighed, a long drawn out exhalation of pure uncompromising Done With This sh*t.

"Get out, boy. I won't ask again."

I scoffed again, but even to me, it sounded weak. Uncertain. Did they really not believe me? The guard gave me a hard look, but when I didn't move he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, dragging me like a child's toy.

"I see you know your Judo well," I stammered, resisting. "I-iyada! This is democracy manifest!"

He yanked, sending me stumbling forward.

-1hp

"Ow!" I cried, tears springing to my eyes. "W-why?"

He pushed me out the door and stood, an impassable wall to my destiny.

"We don't need any more Militiamen, d'you know how many of you creeps we get a week?" he crossed his arms. "Get!"

"F-f*ck you, I'm not," I sobbed, lashing out at the wall with a fist.

-5hp

"f*ck!"

You have gained the skill Resist Damage [Physical]!

The tears stopped. Oh. Oh right, I could just show them I had powers. I sniffed and wiped my eyes with my sleeve.

"Behold!" I raised a hand and cast it down, dark blue smoke bursting into appearance, covering us. "Smoke bomb!"

I posed smugly amid panicked shouts, klaxon wails and… oh no. I'd read this fic before when the SI got forced into a life of villainy when he accidentally spooked the PRT by doing pretty much this. sh*t! f*ck!

"That wasn't an attack," I shrieked through my smokescreen, throwing my hands as high as I could. "It's not poison gas! I surrender, don't tase me, bro!"

There was a clunk and a harsh whirr, I felt a breeze and my smoke was sucked away into a series of vents inside the building revealing a half-dozen PRT troopers fully decked out in Kevlar and Kalashnikovs.

My knees wobbled, a tinnitus-like ringing drowning out whatever orders one of them was barking. The scene blurred through tears. So this is how it ends? I hoped my parents didn't go through my hard drive.

"Wait!" a reedy voice cut through the stretching silence and the dumbf*ck receptionist stumbled out in view. "I didn't think he was a parahuman."

The trooper captain rounded on him, "explain."

"He said he was here to join the Wards," the man looked stricken. "He said he wanted to see Miss Militia, I thought he was just another one of her creepy fanboys so we kicked him out. I, he really didn't seem legit!"

I sank to a crouch as the guns were lowered and everyone in the lobby started murmuring to each other. Wew, 0/10 on RT, would not do again. I took this brief intermission to dry my uncool tears and get my sh*t together.

Ok, we cool Greg?

Yeah, bro, we cool.

"Yeah, I f*ckken told you so," I rose to my feet, pointing at the receptionist dramatically. "Now bring me to Miss Militia for I much desire to speak with her."

Eventually, they got around to driving me out to the Rig, where we would meet up with my parents and Armsmaster because he 'apparently' had to handle sh*t like this. But he was my second favourite local hero, so I could f*cks with that.

And then, the very moment I set foot into the Rig-

Swiggety swooty. I knew I got perk points from quests as rewards and every five levels, but I was expecting one at level five! Next one at seven then I guess. I hummed jauntily as I was led to wherever it was exactly I was going, mentally browsing my stats and perk choices.

Oh, you motherf*cker! They were hidden behind stat walls! Good thing I was smarter than literally seventy-five percent of people or else I wouldn't even be able to get the INT perk. Aw, but I was going to be a DEX pure, not f*ck with any of that gay wizard sh*t.

20% increased memory capacity and retrieval was nothing to scoff at though. All the DEX one would give me was Ambidextrous, which was cool and all but… I clicked my tongue. All the first tier perks were sweet, I wanted them all so I may as well pick Memory now and put my points into DEX after doing a bit of agility training.

I mentally accepted Memory andthe perks!Better memory, increased Crafting tech level, attention to detail and f*cking Mana Control was the only one hidden behind 30 INT?! I mean, folklore ninja were basically wizards, right? That's how they were in my favourite Aleph manga, Menma, which was like ninety-nine percent of my inspiration and- I sighed, putting everything into INT.

"Uh," a confused voice interrupted my very important Build Managing. "Are you ok?"

I looked at my armed guard, "What?"

"You were miming a lot," she made a few jerky puppet-like movements. "Are you feeling ok?"

"It's a power thing," I said sagely. "You'd understand if you ever played old-school RPG's."

"Ah."

"It's some real FFII type sh*t, namsayin? That's my life now, the grind. Imagine playing Runescape but it's for real, and I put like five thousand hours into that sh*t so this'll be a piece of cake. I'm basically my own Isekai protagonist, and really there aren't enough animes like that I really like the Isekai genre."

The trooper grunted.

"The LN just isn't the same, and it's a shame there's no western comics with that theme I reckon there's a lot of money to be made there; y'know I've sent so many emails to the publishers about this and not even once have I gotten a reply."

"Terrible."

"Oh you don't even know the half of it, Hombrero," I shook my head despairingly. "A guy tries to do good and the establishment can't handle it."

"We're here," she pointed way up the hallway and sped up.

We hustled around two more corners and up a flight of stairs until we came to a door, slightly ajar. Clearly, she took her job very seriously. Good, that's good. I'd need professionals to initially protect me from Coil until I could steamroll him effortlessly.

I made to kick the door open, but noticed at the last moment it swung outward so I was forced to merely fling it open and step in.

"Ok," I clapped. "Let's do this!"

My keen, piercing gaze swept over mum, dad, and Armsmaster; nice stats Colin, not a one under twenty. Except WIS, imagine being such a WISlet, lol. Noob alert.

"Here he is," dad turned to mum, then back to me. "You really a parahuman, Greg?"

"Yeh breh," I vanished my mask into my inventory.

"Oh Greggy," mum simpered patting the chair next to her, barely concealing the full blast of her excitement behind a deftly controlled expression. "Come, sit."

I bounced into the chair and dad leaned across to give me a fist bump while mum ruffled my hair.

"Excellent," Armsmaster relaxed into his custom chair as much as his power armour would allow. "It's good to see you're all so excited about this. Joining the Wards program, even if only until you leave school, can be a massive boon to whatever you choose to do in the future. Not to mention the protection and support that you, as a young parahuman, are likely to need in this kind of city."

"Yeah that's cool and all, but before I make my final decision can I have the contract to look over?" I skilfully bluffed as though I wouldn't sign anything he put on the table.

"Of course," Armsmaster reached down next to his chair and pulled up a briefcase, rifled through it and handed over a f*ckhuge stack of papers in a binder.

"Reassuring," I said sardonically. Still going to sign, but that didn't mean I wouldn't pretend to try to squeeze every last concession out of them first.

As I did my best to read all the relevant sections Armsmaster tried to fish for information from my parents. It allseemedok, I mean yeah I'd have to work every day. Or come into work, at least. Be On Premises, since all the rest of the sh*t like patrols wasn't mandatory. And there were various other freedom limiting bits and pieces I wasn't super keen on, but such is life.

I tossed the binder back onto the table and leaned forward, steepling my fingers, "this… 'training'mentioned, what is it?"

"It's mostly about PRT and Protectorate protocol, some leadership training, perhaps basic self-defense," Armsmaster waved an airy hand. "But those are mostly for if you don't seem to be fitting in or getting along well with the others. You seem like a proactive kid so I don't think you have to worry about having to sit through many boring extra classes."

"You misunderstand, Armsmaster," I drawled. "What I want is training that might go beyond the scope of what you traditionally offer."

He sagged minutely, "I would have to bump it up the chain."

"And this 'creative control' over my Cape identity the Branding department would have," I tutted, wagging my finger. "I want full control over my image."

"You would have the same privileges as everyone else."

"And what if," I paused for dramatic effect. "I had information to trade. Information about Villains you won't get anywhere else."

He straightened in his chair, jaw set. "That isn't how this works."

I smiled smugly, "would it work that way if I complained the PRT security guard manhandled me with unnecessary roughness when I was so rudely ignored when I went to the main office? If I didn't heal I'd've bruised."

"Greg," dad cut in with a resigned little laugh. "Don't antagonise Armsmaster. You like Armsmaster."

"Aw, but I was being cool," I looked imploringly at my parents. "You guys always say I can be cool."

"I give it a three out of ten," mum chided. "Trying to be your Deathnote show is unoriginal and doesn't fit the context."

"I beg all your pardons," Armsmaster seemed to gawp. "But what are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it," dad said, one beardman to another. "He's just being silly."

"Does that mean you don't have information?" Armsmaster rapidly tapped his gauntleted finders across the desk. "Because I'll tell you now, Greg Veder, in the Wards we d-"

"Kek," I laughed. "Tattletale's real name is Sarah Livsey, her power lets her make insane inferences on almost no information and she and the Undersiders all work for that Coil guy. I wouldn't jerk you around like that bro, Coil knows I know."

Armsmaster snapped his open mouth shut with a clack and Despair popped up in his CONDITION's tab for some reason.

"Greggy," said mum in an uncharacteristically stern tone. "Now this is serious. Why do you think Coil is after you?"

"I was minding my own business, just hanging out in town," I dissimulated smoothly so as not to give away my Dr. Wu persona. "Then Tattletale picks me out of the crowd. No doubt she inferred who I am, so she comes up and is like 'Hello there' then I read her with my power, but she was reading me with her power; so I made a tactical retreat. She chased me up the road, but I outran her. If Coil was going to sick his hired Capes onto me I knew I had to lose the heat-"

"Hang on a moment," Armsmaster's voice cut through my explanation like a knife. "Your power let you read all that in one brief meeting?"

"Yeah, but I also got some useless sh*t about how her brother killed himself and she hates her parents for trying to exploit her," I made a fifty fifty gesture.

"And you can do this to anyone?"

"Absolutely can, Col-"

Armsmaster moved suddenly, slapping the table with an ear-splittingcrack! "You need to understand how important it is for some Capes to keep their identity secret. People kill over this. Half of the villains in Brockton Bay would murder you on the spot if you hinted you knew who they were."

"Duh," I said. "That's why I'm here."

"Ok!" dad stood up. "We're signing him up. Sometimes he comes home with a split lip from school for running his mouth, if the stakes have already been raised then by god you have to help him."

And like that, I was a Ward.

Just before I left, however, Armsmaster asked the million dollar question.

"By the by, Greg, what are your powers? A main thinker with minor striker? I want to be able to give the tech guys a heads up on what they might need."

I inhaled deeply, assuming an exaggerated thinking posture. How best to answer this… Yes, yes of course.

"I'm the Crawler of the Dauntless genre."

"Ok," Enrique the PR and Branding head said, voice muffled by the hands covering his face as they had been for the last five minutes. "Ok, fine. If this is really as far as we can go to compromise on this, fine. Welcome to the Wards…" He sighed, hands sliding off his and onto his lap, "Dark Smoke Puncher."

"We Gucci fam," I extended a fist, ejecting a plume of mana smoke at the apex of the punch. "Ayyy!"

Enrique rolled his eyes and bumped it. I supposed I could understand the sentiment, five days solid of trying to hash out a Cape identity that was Family Friendly, Marketable and Absolutely f*cking Awesome was even wearing on me a little.

"Now get out. We'll call you when we need you for tailoring your costumes."

Booyah.

I stalked from the room with a flourish of smoke and almost ran headlong into all six point six feet of Armsmaster's power armour.

"Guess who has two thumbs and a new Cape name?" I pointed at myself with said thumbs. "Dark Smoke Puncher!"

"I see youdidsettle on that name, despite my directions," Armsmaster tried to smile.

"Chyeah," I preened. "Just imagine the headlines! 'Dark Smoke Puncher to be next Triumvirate member?!', 'Dark Smoke Puncher saves America!'"

"So you say," he replied evenly. "But you know, even I had delusions of grandeur in my youth. I quite strongly believed I'd outstrip Hero himself before I realised powers have their limits."

I made a farty noise with my mouth, "yeah nah, give me six, six months and I bet I could beat you up."

"That's not going to happen."

I made chicken noises and after a few seconds, Armsmaster's helmet sprouted several new panels which slid down to cover his mouth, sealing him away from my taunting.

Kawaii as f*ck.

"Now come on," he continued, now in a robot voice. "Before your fitness and power testing, the Director wants to greet you."

Half an hour of driving and security checks later I stood in front of The PRT ENE Director Emily Piggot.

She inhaled deeply. "Dark Smoke Puncher. Welcome to the Wards, I hope you don't have any complaints so far?"

"Ummm, not really. I mean the whole PR thing is lame af, but I get you guys have, like, reasons or whatever. And I guess it's also been boring that I've seen like no other heroes yet, and ah…" I shrugged.

"Yes, at least you finally understood why we couldn't have you name yourself The Guy, Kirito or Master Baiter-"

I snorted.

A muscle twitched in Emily's neck. "We have our rules, and you have to follow them even if you don't agree. As for having not seen any of the Protectorate, we had to verify what you told Armsmaster about Tattletale aka. Sarah Livsey. It all checks out, and that's the problem."

"Because of the security risk."

She nodded slowly, "yes, exactly-"

"And you're finally meeting with me because you've decided I'd be able to keep a secret or I'm not an enemy spy or whatever. So you brought me here to give me a stern talking to, bust out the NDA's and possibly threaten me because even despite that I could be an irreparable security leak I'll still have to be in the same room as people eventually and they'd really hate it if I knew their secrets."

Emily frowned.

"I'm very smart," I said smugly.

"You will find you won't get very far with that kind of attitude, Thinker type parahumans tend to have this very problem."

"I haven't even used that though, besides I'm not even a pure thinker. It's like I told Armsmaster, I'm-"

"The Crawler of the Dauntless genre, yes," Emily cut me off. God, how rude. "Which is another thing I'd like to talk about. What exactly do you mean by that?"

I bounced in my seat, I'd been working on a whole bit for this! I stood up and slid the chair aside. When the director opened her mouth to speak I shushed her, rubbed my hands together and winked.

Starting in my Terminator crouch I leapt to my feet, twirling arms swirling smoke. "Gashan!" I struck a JoJo pose of my own creation.

"Unlimited Powah!"

Emily steepled her fingers and watched me silently until the last of the smoke dissipated, "unpack that for me, please."

I sighed and moved my chair back to where it was and plopped into it. Some people just didn't appreciate the classics.

"My progress will go like," I traced a steep upward angle with my finger that slowly curved off into a nearly flat line. "That, with everything I do. Assuming there isn't a level cap somewhere I should just be able to autistically level grind forever, and that's only with the stuff I have now. In a little bit, I'll start getting new powers, which I'll probably have some control over what they are and every time they'll follow that same progression. Can you believe Armsmaster totally didn't believe me when I said I'd be the new Triumvirate member? 'Cause I'm gonna be the very best, like no one ever was. To catch…"

sh*t, did my new points in INT not work on improvising song lyrics?

Emily hmmed.

"Anyway," I shrugged. "Power goes up forever."

"We'll soon see, won't we."

Soon? I mean… "Yeah probably."

"In any case," Emily said. "Welcome to the Wards ENE. You were right about why I called you here today. Unless you sign an agreement stating you won't divulge any of the information you read off of people we would have to continue to restrict your access to both The Rig and the PRT building to ensure the privacy of our employees is kept."

"Yeah, no problem, fam," I got up and walked up to the desk as she slid a pen and a sheet of paper laden with text to me. "Just let me read this first."

I speed read the thing. Pretty standard all around, depending on the offence I could be fined or imprisoned and apparently I could sign this even as a minor because of some Cape law. Good sh*t.

I signed, in big loopy lettering, 'Dark Smoke Puncher'.

"What do you mean your power ate a book?" Armsmaster barked.

"I mean it ate my Japanese textbook!"

"And this is how you learned the language?"

"Obviously," I shook my head in disbelief. "How else would I?"

"Was it automatic?"

"No, that'd be sh*t design. There was a yes-no popup."

Armsmaster visibly floundered like I hadn't spent ten minutes explaining my power came with a Heads Up Display. "Right then, I'm going to find some books so we can observe this in action. Get back on the treadmill, see if you can gain another 'point' in 'vitality'."

"But running's hard," I whined as he powerwalked out of the room. "Armsmaster!"

"Come on, Dark Smoke, you could do with it anyway," Jed the Power Testing Technician who I wasn't allowed to tell anyone sold weed said. "You've got to be the most unfit kid I've ever seen."

He was right, "But I'm quantifiably twice as smart as them," I grumbled.

"And now you can be twice as fit," he prodded me back over to the Darth Vader Conversion Chamber he called a treadmill. "In you pop."

"Kirai desu," I grumbled, reattaching the electrode patches and setting off into a shambling jog. Oh god, it already hurt to breathe, and people did this forfun? Savages!

I had to give up a few times to avoid puking my lungs out, but eventually, Armsmaster came back with a wagon full of books andObserve… heavy duty tinkertech monitoring equipment.

"Did you get another 'point of VIT'? Never mind, get over here and tell me which books work, don't absorb them! I want to have it all recorded as closely as possible," he began hauling his gear out and hooking it up to the sh*t they used to monitor my Smoke magic.

I ripped the electrode monitors off, despite Jed's directions, and staggered over to the wagon. I wiped a deluge of sweat from my brow with a thumb and flicked it all over the ground. The books he brought were probably about as varied as he could find on such short notice. Magazines, various genres of novel, a copy of How to Make Friends and Influence People which Observe told me Dragon had bought for his birthday last year; god I totally shipped that.

"This works," I said, holding up How to Sing by Lilli Lehmann. "Doesn't even have a stat requirement."

"As I expected," Armsmaster muttered as he glanced over at me. "Needs to be a concrete, trainable skill. But then why would How to Make Friends not work… I had hoped, blast. Never mind," he raised his voice, "Now get over here and sing directly into the microphone before using the book."

"Any song?"

"Whichever you like, just make sure it's the same one before and after. Jed, please take the regular wavelength monitor."

I took a few deep breaths, yeah I could be an Idoru. I could totally be an Idoru, and for this, I knew just the song.

Armsmaster gave me the signal.

"Somebody once told me-"

For some reason they let me sing the whole f*cking thing.

"Like a goose with a head cold," Armsmaster whispered, which like I knew I wasn't very good but ouch. Armsmaster was so mean! "Now hold the book in front of these sensors and ready in three, two, one… Now."

The book exploded into blue shards that quickly disintegrated into golden motes before vanishing completely.

Armsmaster made an annoyed sound, "we'll have to do this again at a later date once I build something to measure whatever energy is being put out. Now sing the song again."

xXVoid_CowboyXx: Armsmaster is uch a jerk!

GStringGirl: i refuse to believe! he is always so nice on tv

xXVoid_CowboyXx: Poor, sweet, naïve, stupid GStringGirl. He made fun of my singing!

I put my phone into my pocket, then into my inventory. She would never understand the pain I feel, maybe one day when we'd finally hang out I'd introduce her to Armsy and he'd insult her outfits colour coordination. But until then, she couldn't begin to comprehend even one iota of my suffering.

"Do you think I could be an idoru, Taylor?" I queried pensively.

She didn't look up from her school work, I'd already done mine of course. It was trivially easy with my now genius levels of INT. Of course, her seventeen wasn't bad even thoughmine was totally better even before I got powers f*cking suck it!

"Do you think I could be an idoru?" I asked again.

She sighed, "What's an Eyedooroo, Greg?"

"A book. Also the engrish pronunciation of idol. What do you think of my singing voice?"

Taylor glanced up at the clock, "I've never heard it."

"We should do karaoke! Sparky, you're in a band, I could totally be your new frontman! Whatdya say fam, wanna be a rockstar?"

"I don't do 'rock'," he said, voice muffled against his arms as he tried to have his customary third nap of the day.

"Grunge metal is pretty much just Rock though."

"Ooh," Sparky exhaled through his teeth. "Not getting into that."

I kept trying to speak but he kept interrupting me by saying "nuh."

"Fine," I scorned him. "Taylor and I will make our band and then we will get all the cocaine and," my voice cracked. "Groupies."

Sparky made an over exaggerated voice crack without looking up, he was mocking me!

"Whatever, see if I ever invite you to karaoke again."

He did the squeaky voice thing again. I whined but he kept doing it. I whined to Taylor, and he still did not let up.

First Colin, now Sparky? Was I to be betrayed at every turn? Would Taylor be next, a heinous villain in disguise?

"Don't do crimes," I told her sagely, causing her to spiral off into a deep contemplation which is why she didn't answer me.

I sighed. Out of all my many friends, so few of them were chatty sorts of people, it was kind of a shame sometimes that I had to make up the difference all day. Eventually class ended and we all spilled out into the hall, where one of my friends who actually initiated conversations even if he was terrible at keeping them going greeted me.

"Hey Greg, you still retarded?"

That was Big Cal, he was pretty big. And also a Nazi. Observe told me his dad wanted him to find kids of genuine Aryan blood so every time we passed each other in the halls he made sure to check.

"One hundred percent medical grade retard!" I smiled and pointed at myself with a thumb.

Big Cal snorted and waved goodbye, disappearing into the throng of students.

Poor social skills, that guy.

Anyway, I had a job to be at.

I hastily wiped a fingerprint smudge from my visor. The visor ofmy new Hero uniform.Yes, it was doubly official now that I, Greg Veder, was a Hero. Mmm, so good.

Mostly a grey skintight bodysuit of some weird leatherish fabric, with bright gold armguards and a strip of scarlet for a sash around my waist. Plus I got those sick ass Tabi boots, some f*cking real ninja sh*t.*

I ran my gloved hand through my freshly cut hair, apparently, according to the PR team I couldn't go out in public 'looking like a yellow mop' so they gave me some generic trendy do; like a normie would have.

Whatever.

Today, today I would finally get to meet other heroes. A lesser man might have been nervous, but not I. I was Dark Smoke Puncher, the terror, the night, the end.

"Aight G," I burst from the changing room. "Lead the way."

Jeffery the Intern who I wasn't allowed to tell anyone he was Commander in Chief of the Militiamen led on. After a very smooth elevator ride, I saw my first hero waiting for me. I knew him, of course, Triumph had been in the Wards for years; now let's see…

Rory Christner, lel. Sonic Manipulation, cool cool, healing very nice. Used to play baseball until HIS FATHER BOUGHT HIM POWERS IN A f*ckING BOTTLE!

"OOOOOOH!" I ran at him. He flinched back in shock and brought his hands up defensively. "I've been waiting for evs to finally meet one of you guys!"

Yeah, I mean I didn't want to die.

"Oh, hey yeah that's ok," Rory held out his hand which I vigorously shook. "So I can see you know who I am, and I've been briefed on you. Our teammates only know we're getting a new guy, why don't we go in and introduce you?"

"That is literally the only reason I'm here."

"Righto," the visible portion behind Rory's lion mask creased. "Thanks for bringing him, Jeff."

On we walked.

"So today we've only got Kid, Vista and Aegis in," Rory continued. "Shadow Stalker's coming in soonish, I think."

"Very excellent," I bounced on the balls of my feet with every step. "Vista is my favourite! Is Shadow Stalker as mean as they say, will she insult me? Please tell me she will."

Rory looked down his nose at me in double-decker disgust and confusion, "listen, Dark Smoke, if you harass any of the Wards you'll have me to answer to-"

"I would never!"

"You better not, 'cause I'm telling you now we don't tolerate any of that sh*t."

"I wouldn't!" I whined.

He sighed, "ok, make sure you don't. I'm sure you're just a bit excited to meet your heroes huh?"

"Yeah, no sh*t!" I was back to bouncy steps. "I read about you guys every day, you're like, magic celebrities!"

We reached a big white Vault-tec looking door and Rory punched a big red button, prompting a harsh klaxon-like buzz.

"So when you hear that and you don't have your mask on, it means you should get it on 'cause someone's coming in," Rory said as he opened the door and led the way inside.

A fairly basic, modern looking common room. Huge widescreen, three couches around it and seated upon these couches were some real G nigg*s.

Chris. Missy. Carlos.

My new homeslicies.

Rory opened his mouth to say something presumably superfluous but I was already trotting down the stairs.

"Hey!" I waved. "Hey guys, I'm Dark Smoke Puncher! I like coding, net browsing and anime and my favourite manga is Menma. My hobby is chugging three SIPS and gaming all night, lately I've been binging PROT it's pretty dope. Any of you guys play?"

There was a pause.

"No," said Carlos.

I wedged myself into the spot between Chris and Missy.

"Stop whatever it is you're doing right now and go buy it, I'll power level you."

"I'm not really into games all that much," he said eventually.

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes, "either of you guys?" I looked to my left and right.

They made dissenting noises, but that was ok. Most people were lame and boring so I wouldn't hold it against them. Not everyone was a GStringGirl.

"So yeah," Rory walked down and sat in the empty couch. "This is Kid W-"

"As if I don't know that," I chuckled, wagging a finger.

"Right," Rory continued. "He has a power that tells him names. Real names, too, but-"

"Emily already made me sign a thing so I wouldn't tell," I put my visor from my head equipment slot to my inventory. "I'm Greg Veder, by the way. I figure you should know since I already know your names and tragic backstories."

"What do you mean by that?" Rory suddenly snapped, sitting rigidly.

I guess it was a mistake to say that? Yeah probably, the Spoon quest did say if I f*cked up I'd die, presumably from the same people who can give out superpowers sans trigger event. God that was so cool, all the times I made fun of Capes on PHO for not being able to skip the trigger where others had and it turned out to be true. God that wound them up so fast, so many flame wars, so many bans. Worth it.

"My trigger event for example," I continued as though I hadn't heard him. "Imagine; Lung and Dauntless are fighting a battle to the death and I was shoplifting from Gamestop when they crashed through the window, knocking me into a FFXIV display. I get up, and cleverly using the pilfered OXM discs as shuriken I drive Lung back out onto the street where-"

"You're lying," Missy cut me off. "None of that ever happened."

"Yeah, but I'm telling the story."

"I have Tinkering to do," Chris said, swiftly getting to his feet and scuttling towards one of the doors set into the walls.

"And I have homework," Carlos quickly followed suit.

"Same," Missy hopped to her feet.

"I can help," I called after them. "I'm very smart!"

I turned back to Rory who had his fingers through the gap in his lion helmet, massaging his eyes.

"Why?"

"They just said why," I told him helpfully.

He sighed heavily, "I suppose they did."

"So," I bounced in my chair. "When does Shadow Stalker get in?"

"Alright you panty sniffing little creep. You keep your mouth shut, I'll lay off Hebert and we'll go outonce," Sophia ground out.

I shook my head at the memory.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: girls are weird lmao

For some reason, she thought I wasn'tironicallyblackmailing her into going out with me, but she agreed to it so it was my win. Iwasgoing to turn her in but… not my fault she couldn't tell when people were kidding.

GStringGirl: are we now? Why?

XxVoid_CowboyxX: goot a date with Shadow Stalker via accidental blackmail, she's really bad at teling when people are joking

GStringGirl: I require proofs!
GStringGirl: What did you blackmail her iwth??

XxVoid_CowboyxX: she totally bullies my friend at school, I didn't even realise until my power told me! But im keeping the good stuff for later, did you know she killed a guy?

I put my phone away and took a bite of mum's delicious lasagne.

"Guess what," I said.

"You shot the sheriff, but you didn't shoot the deputy," mum slobbered out around a mouthful of dinner.

"No."

"Is this about your haircut?" Dad asked. "Because we noticed."

It did end up being a pretty snazzy do, "no."

"You pwnd some noobs in your game? Like some level thirty full mithril noobs"

"Even better." Not that it got much better than JUSTing scrubs.

Dad twizzled his beard thoughtfully, "Miss Militia gave you a high five."

"I wish, but no. Better." I relished a grin. "I got a date with Shadow Stalker."

They both made identical, synchronised expressions of surprise.

"Good sh*t," mum fist bumped me across the table. "Aim high."

"You dog," dad offered his own fist for me to bump. "Taking after your old man, you know I was quite the stud back in the day. Why my first girlfriend turned out to be Iron Rain."

I gaped, "I thought you said mum was your first girlfriend!"

He winked and I saw mum out of the corner of my eye throw her knife and fork over her head from behind her back. I Observed her just to be sure.

Ninety nine percent they were having me on.

"But yeah, Stalker's pretty hot and totally tsuntsun."

"I don't know what that means," dad said as he handed mum back her cutlery. "But good for you, son. Actually, try and delay so your first date is on your birthday that way next year you can get the best present."

Mum giggled hysterically as my ears caught fire, imagination in overdrive. I mean, we had the internet so I knew what was possible.

"That's genius!" My parents didn't have twenty INT apiece for nothing. Whereforth would my own genius have sprung if not for them?

Dad gazed upon me with a feverish eye and identical burning ears, "I've never been so proud."

I couldn't help it, I started crying. "H-hai, tou-san!"

Even mum was blushing scarlet.

"I love you two," she sighed, hand on cheek, fork in mouth.

I decided now was the time to drop the bomb I'd been sitting on.

"Also I got us IP banned from PHO again."

"What made you think it was ok to saythis?" Jen the Media Relations Head hissed at me for perhaps the dozenth time, hitting the playback button.

"nigg*!"the me on the screen said genially, shooting finger guns to an unseen second party.

"Why can't I call Vista 'my nigg*'?"

She bit her tongue, "god we made the right choice doing a pre-trial run for your press appearance."

I flinched back, scandalised, "I thought this was live!"

"You thought this was live and youstillsaid all those things?!" she incredulously blurted.

"You said act natural!"

Her eyes bulged and she turned to furiously click to an earlier part of the video.

"-bby of mine is making crystal sculptures. Usually, I get a penny in an old ice cream container and then fill it with one part bleach and two parts ammonia, then I get a crazy straw and blow oxygen onto the penny to activate the iron base. In fact, you can do it at home, just remember to keep it under your bed-"

She paused the video. "Youcan'tgo onnational televisionand trick people into poisoning themselves with chlorine gas!"

"It was a joke," I protested. "There's no way anyone would do it, I mean, who doesn't know that makes chlorine gas? That sh*t's been out forever… actually, do you think if I actually poisoned myself I'd get poison resistance? I think so, but Armsmaster wouldn't let me."

She muttered something like 'maybe he should have'. "Most people don't know how to make chlorine gas, Dark Smoke-"

"Normies," I scoffed.

"Yes, normal people. If even one person poisoned themselves from that it would be your fault. And it would be our fault for giving you the platform to say it. Imagine if a child followed your instructions, ones they believed to come from a trusted source, and died."

"That would suck," I pouted a petulant moue.

Jen rolled her eyes, "at least I got the memo to test run this and we didn't have another Quicksilver incident."

"Aw sh*t, I shoulda thought of that! Quicksilver was hilarious."

Jen started rhythmically chewing on her thumbnail, scowling.

"But no, if we annexed Canada where would Dragon live?"

"You think of that before you consider you might trick someone into poisoning themselves?"

Was that bad? Was I autism?

"Yes."

"Are you having me on, Dark Smoke? When they handed me your case I thought they were taking the piss."

"I mean everything I ever say," I looked her dead in the eye. "Because I'm Dark Smoke Puncher."

Little did she know I didn't mean everything I said.

"Righto, we're done here," Jen stood up. "You obviously can't be let out in public to represent Us, we'll have to try again after you go through the full course of mandatory sensitivity training."

"But I don't need groupthink brainwashing sessions! I can be a Hero just fine by myself."

"You absolutely do."

I whined and made puppy dog eyes, "I don't! You can't tell me how to be!"

"We absolutely can," Jen crossed to the door and held it open for me. "If you want to be a public hero. Director Piggot gave me the final say in what help we needed to give you, and if you think for one second it was ok to trick people into poisoning themselves as a joke then by god you need all the help we can give."

I really don't think that was what they wanted me to understand with the whole sensitivity training tripe, but fake it till you make it was still a thing right? Not that I would. When I was but a young lad my mother had given me three pieces of advice I carried with me to this day.

Be yourself.

Be yourself, yourself.

Don't punch old Gypsy women.

She was also fond of saying that bitches ain't sh*t but ho's and tricks, but that was just a product of her poor taste in music. As far as I was concerned I had followed her advice to the letter.

"Dark Smoke Puncher," Armsmaster said curtly as he approached, getting my attention. "I hope you learned something."

"I did sir," I smiled. "Thank you for asking."

What little I could see of his expression curdled.

"Ah man!" I cackled, punching him good-naturedly on the arm. "Don't worry bro, they didn't get me. I tricked them, see, on account of how smart I am."

Upon hearing this Armsmaster regained his smile, "you do realise that every time you make a fool of yourself in public youwillhave to retake the sensitivity training?"

I hadn't, that was unfair.

"So make sure you keep," he licked his lips sourly and made an encompassing gesture. "Yourself under wraps, or we're going to have to get you a handler."

"Heh," I thumbed my nose. "I can handle myself. Also, I just got Acting and Voice Mimicry skills plus a CHA point."

Armsmaster hissed in pleased surprise, "congratulations. But please try to avoid developing any undue skills or we'll be in power testing for the rest of our lives. On a related note, I've emailed your new exercise and diet regimen to your wards.ene address, please be sure to keep all your appointments with the PRT employees who will be your PT's."

"Noooo! You never made anyone else do jogging!"

"This is an ongoing, mandatory part of your power evaluation, we have to find out if your claims are true."

"I never lie," I lied.

"I see. And on another related note, I have a 'quest' for you-"

"Ah!" I pointed to his new floating bright yellow exclamation mark. "The thing, you have the thing! What quest?!"

"What thing?"

"The Quest Giver exclamation mark," I mimed one floating above my own head. "It means you have a quest!"

"Excellent, I had hoped this would be the case. After your preliminary power testing I did some research into these RPGs you claimed a similarity with in the hopes of finding exploits. With this, Dark Smoke Puncher, if your claims of unending growth are true thenIwill make personally sure that under my instruction you fulfil your dream of joining the Triumvirate." He placed his hand on my shoulder. "Now the quest is, 'Go and introduce yourself to the rest of the Wards team'."

"It worked it worked it worked!"

Armsmaster's lips curled into what he probably thought was a smile. I could relate, sometimes people said my smile was funny looking too.

"Ore wa kore hodo nagai ma matte imash*ta!" I bellowed in my best Sugita voice as I surveyed my brethren from atop my lofty perch of five stairs higher than them.

Dennis, the guy who would no doubt appreciate my memes. Anyone who named themselves Clockblocker could be no casul.

Dean, banger of Glory Girl and proof that the rabbit hole went far deeper than anyone expected. Seriously, how many bought power capes were there?

I could feel my Acting as I DIO walked towards them, "Hey guys, I'm Greg."

"They weren't lying," I head Dennis mutter to Dean. Clearly, the others had told him of my greatness. "Hello, Greg."

"We were just about to play a few rounds of Militia," Dean held up a PS4 controller. "You want in?"

"Hell yeah motherf*cker!" I bounded forward and practically dived onto one of the empty couches. "I haven't played this since I ranked plat and it got too easy. What're we doing, kill for kill?"

"Sure," said Dean as he started up the game.

"Online multi? Is there a headset, I wanna see if chat's still the same."

"No," said Dean as Dennis said "Yes"

"Remember," Dean continued. "We lost it. And it would be a bad idea anyway sincewe're on the Wards account."

"Oh," said Dennis. "Oh, right yeah."

"I getcha," I tapped my nose. "I haven't even debuted yet, you guys would probably cop it if it got out I existed before they got to do all their PR crap."

Dean passed me the controller, "you go first, man."

I grinned, clicking the buttons and waggling the sticks. Usually, I was PC master race so this might take a little getting used to again. The game started and I charged forward, forward, forward and immediately died as soon as the enemy came into view.

"How the f*ck did that happen," I whined, handing off to Dennis. "We're in bronze. Whatever."

"Get good," he shrugged as he respawned.

I cackled. It was a normie meme, but the first I'd heard out of a mouth other than mine in a while.

It took another two rounds of not talking very much because my new bros kept shutting down my gamer bants to get my old skill back, and then some. The new DEX and INT were really showing their worth.

"Ok, bored now," I said as I executed the seventh seven twenty noscope of my third fifteen long kill streak. "Also you guys really suck, I can see why you were ranked bronze. Can we not get a new headset in, after this point its only fun to watch twelve-year-olds have a meltdown and call you a nigg*rfa*ggot for a minute straight."

"Is that fun?" Dennis took back the controller after someone killed me with a lucky shot. "f*ck!"

Dean took over.

"Uh, sometimes."

"Weird, but yeah I'm over this too," Dean said as he just quit out of the game midway through the match before I could stop him."

"Dude, no, that totally tanks your score! Amateur hour sh*t like that is why you'll always be stuck in bronze!" I felt the fire of my old FPS obsession flare up once more. "You've always got to hustle for that chicken dinner, it's serious business."

"It's just a game, bro."

I gaped at the stupidity bursting forth from Dennis's mouth, the sheer unexpected idiocy. From him, the one Ward I expected to understand the struggle.

"And I suppose Scion is just Scion," I pontificated.

"Yeah."

Unbelievable, that such sh*t opinions could dwell in the hearts of bros. But not everyone could be GStringGirl, I'd long resigned myself to that fact; even if she did have some absolutely abhorrently sh*t opinions.

"Stay scrub-tier then," I pouted then immediately perked up as I thought of the best idea I'd ever had. "Hey Dean can you blast me with your power?"

Dean rubbed his mouth, "why?Also, how did you know I could do that without my armour?"

"I'm best Thinker, also I want to see how our powers interact," I leapt to my feet and loomed over him. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, blast me with something good!"

"Well…" Dean cringed back as I loomed harder. "Ok, sit down, it's not like I've never blasted the others with it before."

I launched myself back into the couch, bouncing with excitement as Dean raised a hand, pointed at me, and a laser shot out. It tickled.

A wave of contentment washed over me, a zen peace. I slumped back, "bruh."

"So did it work?" Dean asked. "Whatever power thing you wanted to see?"

"Ma~an, nah," I stretched like a cat in the sun. "Couple more times, hit me with a bad one this time."

Pchew!

I hated it.

"What the f*ck is this," I hunched over, drawing my knees up and hugging them. "I don't like it."

"It was meant to be shame," Dean said.

"Isthiswhat that feels like?"

All this time, it was shame?

"Aw, this isrealbad, hit me with another good one."

This time I giggled uproariously.

Then I wept.

"Ok, stop, stop it happened, I got the resist."

"The what?" asked Dennis.

"Resistance," I sniffled. "I gain resistances to damage and other people's powers when I get hit, so can you two do me, like, a favour? Just hit me with yours whenever?"

"Maybe, we'd have to ask Armsmaster."

"Oh," the sadness went as I had a happy thought. "You guys should have seen his face when I told him I was The Crawler of the Dauntless genre, he's a funny guy."

"You said that to his face?" Dean asked, aghast. "Why?"

"It was funny."

"Why the f*ck did you tell Dennis we had a date?" Sophia hissed, looming up at me.

I flinched back from her threatening accusatory finger each time it jabbed at my face, "He asked," I squeaked.

"And how did he know to ask?"

I warily eyed her finger lest it jab me for real, "he wanted to know if I had any chicks on the line, so I said 'Do I ever, you'll never guess who one of them is' and he said 'who?' and I said 'Sophia' and he said 'holy sh*t mother f*cker, you must be game. How'd you manage that?' so I said-"

She punched me in the ribs, "if you don't keep your mouth shut they'll never find the body."

-1hp

"Mou," I pouted, cradling my no doubt fractured ribcage. "Fine, I get it; you're actually a yangire type."

"f*cking weeb," she spat and made a threatening punch gesture.

I ducked my head and scurried away back to the table where Missy, Dean, Carlos and I were playing poker. As I neared the table I defaulted to my confident, puss* slaying swagger; brushing imaginary dust off my shoulders.

She was so into me.

"Was Dennis having us on about you two going on a date?" Missy asked incredulously. "It looked like you were being mugged."

"She's just being tsun," I said sitting down and picking up my cards.

"He didn't lie," said Dean. "They do have a date… for some reason."

"It's 'cause I'm a chick magnet, right Vista-chan," I winked and shot her the Greg-Style finger guns.

Missy frowned, an expression like that of a sad muppet.

"No," said Carlos. "Also, Greg, stop cheating."

"Counting cards isn't cheating," I recoiled, scandalised. I protectively swept my large stack of play chips closer to me in case anyone started getting any funny ideas.

"Ok," said Dean, rolling his eyes. "That's why."

I harrumphed, "It's not! Besides, it's so easy I started doing it by accident, you try being this smart! I wasn't even using my actual Thinker power to read your hands, imagine being such a brainlet you can't even count cards."

"Just shut up and stop cheating, man," Carlos sighed and glanced at the clock as he had been compulsively doing ever since he asked if I wanted to play cards. Maybe he also had somewhere else to be?

"Maybe you should just git gud and stop being so salty you're being out-f*cking-skilled," I grinned smugly. "It's a tale as old as time, some scrub decides to challenge me and gets butthurt when he loses. Man, you shoulda seen this MtG tourney I was in back when I played. So I was running a control deck to troll noobs back when nobody else figured out they were top meta and I just had complete lockdown on this guy and he kept slapping his forehead and going 'hmmmmr!' it was hilarious. Especially when I played Moat and he had absolutely no dispels left I thought he was gonna legit flip the table-"

"Do you want the Shame Beam again?" Carlos threatened me out of insecurity of his lowly sixteen INT. "Because Dean can Shame Beam you if you don't shush."

My jaw snapped shut. Anything but the shame beam.

"Thank you."

Thank this, f*cko, now I'll really start cheating-

"Can we play something else then?" Missy asked, throwing her hand onto the table. "I'm bored of this anyway."

"N-no!" I stammered. "I'll stop cheating, I promise!"

"So you were cheating," Missy j'accused.

"No! It's only cheating if you get caught," I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. "And since I told everyone my winning strategy that means I wasn't cheating since I wasn't caught."

Missy rolled her eyes and made some kind of wordless appeal to Dean. Yabai! I could tell she wasn't thinking I was cool,time for Plan B!

I equipped my full Dark Smoke Puncher uniform and blasted smoke, somersaulting backward over the couch in the resulting confusion.

"You'll remember this," I jeered through the smokescreen, activating Acting and Voice Mimicry. "As the day youalmostcaught Dark Smoke Puncher!"

And then I hoofed it out the door as fast as I could, I had places to be anyway.

"How the f*ck," Carlos smushed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. "How ishegoing to be the new DauntlessPlus?"

"At least it's over now, and Armsmaster said we wouldn't have to do it again," Missy commiserated. "I hope he never gets let out of PR training, going on patrols would be a nightmare."

"Dunno what you two are on about, I like him," Dean said absently, fiddling with something on his phone. "Real genuine guy."

"I guess so?" said Missy. "I mean…"

"It's hard to see without emotion sense," he agreed gallantly. "But he hasn't said a single word with malicious intent."

"…He's so annoying," Missy sighed.

"So annoying," echoed Carlos, leaning back into the couch and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"He is," Dean agreed again. "But he's a nice person, just give him a chance."

"Speaking of giving people chances," Carlos leant forward again, forearms resting on knees. "What did you see with him talking to Sophia?"

"Oh, yes, spill," Missy mirrored his posture.

Dean slid his phone back into his pocket, "I really don't know what to make of it. She absolutely hates him and is super embarrassed about the whole thing. He's terrified of her when she's getting up in his face, but when he talks about it he's kinda, like, a kid in a candy store. They knew each other in civvies beforehand, so I guess… maybe it's complicated?"

"Who knows," Missy grinned. "Maybe they'll work and she can stop being such a bitch and he can stop being such an idiot."

"We can only dream," Carlos floated up and over toward the kitchen. "Anyone else want a can?"

"If you understood all of that, you may now pick up the pistol," Hana said, gesturing to it.

And I did understand, despite being distracted the whole lecture by her very pretty eyes, the way they squinched; you couldfeelthe smile behind the scarf. Kirei na!

I fitted on my earmuffs, picked up the gun being careful not to touch the trigger, checked the safety to make sure it was on and took aim in the approved stance. Breathe in, safety off, breathe out and finger on the trigger.

Bang!

Yeah baby, clean shot right through at least part of the target!

Bang!
Bang!
Bang!

Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!

"Yatta! That last one was actually in the outer ring! Plus I got a skill out of it," I carefully flicked the safety back on and placed the gun back on the counter, giving Hana a 1.21-gigawatt grin. "Feelin' real good about my life right now."

"Very well done," she returned my grin and clapped me on the shoulder. "And excellent adherence to safety protocol, now you can reload and try again."

The 'kyaa~' died in my throat, crushed by the rising excitement as I felt myself go pink. "T-thanks," I managed to say, picking the gun back up and reloading it from my inventory. Best power, probably better than observe. I mean yeah, I got a perfect assessment of someone's threat level when I observed them and how exactly their power worked, but I also had to read through their boring flavour text. The only flavour text I wanted to read was mine, and I couldn't.

I fired until my gun skill levelled up, fifty bullets exactly. From the outside, it would have looked like I was doing a really good impression of Hana's power, seemingly never needing to reload on a nine-round pistol.

"You're picking this up remarkably quickly," Hana said, taking her place in the firing booth. "It'll just be a matter of practice now. Make sure you listen to any more tips your shooting instructors give you, and in a few months we can do this again and you can show me how good you've gotten."

She gave me another one of those smiles and put a shot in the bullseye.

"Y-you too."

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Miss Militia is cute! I'm going to marry Miss Militia!

GStringGirl: would you really want to marry an old lady like her, cakes are no good after the 25th

XxVoid_CowboyxX: no memeing

GStringGirl: no memes? You must be serious!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: I have never been more so, I'll send you an invite to the wedding and when you turnt up Armsmaster can insult your outfits colour coordination

GStringGirl: Yeah, I'll be there for sure.

With the power of PUA forums and Eroge on my side, I couldn't lose!

I had my aviators on. I had my leather jacket on. Toothpick in mouth. Wisdom of my Father thundering through my head.

Sophia approached, she was late. And seething if her Observe window was right. As she neared I executed The Manoeuvre; with my ring finger I pushed my sunglasses up onto my head and transitioned smoothly into running my fingers through my hair with a smouldering look.

I nodded upward, "sup, bitch?"

She turned on her heel mid-stride and started walking back the way she came.

I watched her leave.

Why was she leaving? I did bad?

The Shame Feeling wormed its way up in my guts, something I did had been a mistake. At once I divined my folly; she didn't get I was kidding. This had happened before, with others. Once I had jokingly remarked to Brad that the reason for his outrageous bragging was that he was trying to impress us like we were his alcoholic father. Then he punched me in the mouth because he didn't get the joke was that I'd never met his dad and couldn't possibly know that.

But hey, the only way to get better at jokes was to tell more of them.

"Wait!" I called out, breaking into a run after her. "Sophia, wait up! I was kidding!"

I caught up and walked beside her, "it was a joke, even though you are turbo bitchy I wouldn't call you that as a greeting; that's rude! So the obvious conclusion is that it was a joke! Please stop walking, you're going the wrong way for our date!"

She quickened her pace, forcing me into a trot.

"Come on, please stop, you can't leave as soon as you got here. I know you missed that me blackmailing you was a joke but this is too much, where's your sense of humour?! Please respond."

I followed diligently as she tried to escape, my pleas becoming increasingly impassioned but her heart was stone. I followed as far as the bus stop, mounting panic clutching at my heart. I was starting to think she really didn't like me.

"But I already bought tickets to the aquarium," my voice broke as she took the first step into her bus, tears breaking out of my eyes. She turned back just enough to glance at me, but it wasn't a kind expression. "It's my birthday."

She took her seat and the bus pulled away. Some guy also waiting laughed at me for striking out and I ran home crying.

My tears had subsided before I got there, I knew what was coming. I took a breath, steeling myself, and opened the door.

At once my parents bounded out of the living-room like a pair of dogs.

"You're home way too early," mum accused. "Gimme the deets, homie!"

"…shimatta," I mumbled.

"English," dad prompted gently.

I relayed my story, short as it was, to their mutual groans and facepalms.

"I said co*cky," dad patted me on the shoulder consolingly. "Not co*ckhead."

"It was a rookie mistake, but chin up Greggy," mum swept me into a hug. "We'll write out an apology for you to memorise so she knows you're sorry."

"Thanks," I said thickly, hugging her back. That was good, I clearly wasn't as good with on the spot improv as I thought so having a script would make sure my intentions were clear.

Now if only there were some way I could script an entire date…

"You know," I said conversationally. "The quest didn't fail, I think I still have a chance."

"With what?" Armsmaster asked as he tightened something on his monitoring equipment with a really weird looking screwdriver.

"Sophia, we had a date that I messed up but the quest for it didn't fail; it's still in my log."

"I'm afraid this conversation is inappropriate, between you and I, and as we are currently in a formal power testing situation-"

"I invoke the Ward-Protectorate Mentorship act," I said smugly. "I am in distress, I require advice."

Armsmaster stopped screwing and sighed, "of course you do. Fine. Tell me about it."

"So I think she hates me," I began. "She's always so mean, but yesterday she was late to our date and then she left as soon as she got there without even speaking to me. Get this, it was my birthday too! I'd already bought the aquarium tickets as well! At first, I thought she was just being Tsundere, but there hasn't been any dere so far."

"My advice? Give up," Armsmaster fiddled with his various knobs and dials.

"Mou," I pouted. "You're no help, plus the quest is worth ten K and a perk point."

Armsmaster whipped around, "perk point? You need that for your Mana Control ability, I thi- No, you should give up. Workplace romances seldom go well, you'd likely just cause unwelcome friction between your team which will spawn more problems for everyone. It's best you just tell her you're no longer interested and keep yourself busy with training until you forget her."

"I mean," I dithered. That was all very sound sounding advice, sasuga Twenty CHA Colin. But if I did that I'd have to dob her in for bullying Taylor and killing that guy because you should never welch on a deal. Promises were sacred, Menma taught me that.

"It's your choice but I strongly suggest you take the advice you asked for," Armsmaster finished touching up his device. "Now take this book, it's a compilation of every fighting style, trick and technique that makes up my own hand to hand style-"

"I can't learn it," I said the second my fingers touched the cover. "Oh, it's a prestige skill I need to do a quest apparently."

Wow, ok. "This looks hard," I whined. "I need loads of stats and skills at twenty."

"I'll make the arrangements," Armsmaster snapped, handing me another book clearly identifiable as a first aid manual. "Now hold this in front of the sensors and don't use it until I say so."

I inventoried the fighting manual and took the first aid one, holding it in front of the various panels and wibbly bits of the monitoring machine while Armsmaster did some final configuring.

"Ready in three, two, one, now," he slashed a hand through the air.

I activated the book, it disappeared in a flash filling my mind with new concepts and possibilities and boy howdy was this a good skill; I could literally make people heal faster.

Armsmaster clicked his tongue and rattled his machine vigorously, "and you're sure you don't have any clue as to what energy type your power emits?"

"Still nothing being picked up?"

"Not a blip, besides picking up electromagnetic radiation only on the visible spectrum. Yourpowercalls it 'mana' yes? We have to figure out if this is merely your subconscious providing a word or if you somehow can actually cast magic."

"Oh ho ho! It's magic, you know! Never believe it ain't so!"

"Stop singing," Armsmaster barked. "Wehaveto figure out at the very least what this energy you produce is. Your power is already unique in that it literally provides you with a written explanation of how it works mechanically in lieu of instinctive use, so it's imperative we discover if this energy is also wholly unique."

"Ok."

"Now go back to the PRT headquarters and actually do some exercise for once, you won't want to go into your training sessions with the troopers unprepared, I told them not to take it easy on you. We'll reconvene here in a week once I've put together a new sensory system."

"Of course!" I acted, hot-footing it out of the lab. But it was jokes on him, I probably wasn't going to do any exercise at all.

I chatted to the lady who chauffeured me to the rig on our way back, but she kept insisting she needed to concentrate on driving. I swiped my phone out of my inventory and checked my messages.

GStringGirl: for the last time just turn SS in, ive read enough fanfiction to know this wont end well

It was a conundrum. On one hand she was bullying my friend and also killed a guy, on the other she was really hot.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: yeah maybe, but me and armsy figured out I'm actually like a wizard or something. Legit magic spells

Soon enough I was back at the PRT building, sauntering in in my DSP uniform past the security and into the Wards area. Chris sat on one of the couches, watching the Protectorate cartoon and eating a sandwich. That reminded me.

"Hey Chris," I bounded down to him. "Before I forget to tell you again your tinker speciality is modular equipment!"

3rd November 2010- Armsmaster

"Your son has a problem, Mr. and Mrs. Veder."

Their faces slid from pleasantly interested to an expression that confirmed they knew exactly what he was talking about.

"This isn't just about him getting along with the other Wards, which he doesn't. Or correctly obeying orders, which he doesn't. It's his flagrant lack of understanding of how to go about doing these things because I can clearly see he wants to. His social and emotional intelligence are at complete odds with his working intelligence, which by all accounts is extremely high. We've been told his marks are improving dramatically at school, and his self-defence instructors here report that he has been improving at a staggering rate," Armsmaster steepled his gauntleted hands. "How long has he been like this?"

Damien frowned slightly, staring at the conference room table. "Forever, more or less? It's just how he is. I was a bit like that myself, at his age, but it's just recently he's gotten a whole lot more confidence."

"He was quieter before he got powers," Veronica added. "But I wouldn't consider his personality to be a bad thing-"

"Nor would I," said Damien.

"He just takes after us, all he needs is to get some real-life experience."

"I don't think he's even that bad, certainly not enough to call us in for a meeting like this."

"His only real problem is that he very much likes to share what he enjoys, and what he likes is a bit niche for most people. But that's not even really a problem."

"He's actually gotten a bit better since joining the Wards, wouldn't you say darling? About… three? Three percent better?"

"Near enough, and anyway, he has friends at school and once he goes off to college he'll meet even more people who're into all the memes and video games he is so I'm not seeing your issue here, Armsmaster."

He had expected them to be biased toward their misbegotten son, but this was a ridiculous level of justification.

"Even putting aside his peer relations, if he wants to work as a public hero heneedsto be able to present himself in a respectable manner; which at the moment he is just not capable of doing. Or doesn't want to do, rather, as he does understand the concept. But when it comes down to it, he fails. Maybe it's a stress-related issue and this is his way of dealing with social anxiety, but whatever the reason, unless he can conform to our public relations guideline we will have to permanently bench him. Keep him relegated to internal work until he's capable of presenting a good image," Armsmaster leant back, separating his hands. "I'm not sure if you're fine with that, but he certainly isn't. He's chomping at the bit to get into the field and as much as our hands are tied by PR regulations they are just as tied by the Youth Guard."

Veronica crossed her arms, "and it would cause issues here if you were to keep restricting him, so you want us to try and handle the discipline?"

"Sort of," Armsmaster nodded. "We'd rather try a soft approach before dipping into anything even bordering official. And we do want him to achieve his goals, but at the moment his behaviour doesn't allow that within our framework."

"And if our stern talking to doesn't work?" Damien asked, bushy eyebrows furrowed.

"Nothing punitive," Armsmaster held up a placating hand. "Nothing remotely close to that, worst case scenario he gets assigned a lot of mandatory training sessions designed to help promote a heroic public image. Best case he might get some mentoring from one of our senior Protectorate members, so he can see how they work in person and hopefully learn from example."

"Ok, none of this sounds like we needed to have this talk, let alone face to face, if you already have all this in place," Veronica mirrored her husband's frown. "What's the real issue with him being a bit awkward?"

If there was an understatement of the year award that would win, Armsmaster thought as he rolled his eyes behind his visor.

"His power," he said. "Your son is like a second coming of Dauntless, possibly even better than that. And Dauntless is already predicted to rival the Triumvirate given enough time, your son could get there even faster. Our power testing indicates he was telling the truth about his limitless potential, we want to capitalise on that. And we can't if he behaves the way he does. If we want him to be up there with the likes of Legend he needs to know how to talk to people, and as far as I can tell the only Ward who doesn't mind him is Gallant. If only one of a youth peer group he has such a large common ground with can put up with him, how can he work within a much more diverse adult working environment?"

"Depends on if he wants to," Veronica said. "When he's done with high school he might move way out of state for college; where Coil can't get to him. If he wants to quit being a Hero and do an Arts degree that's fine with us."

How absolutely abhorrent, they would let him squander his gift. What was this sickening unconditional support of the boys' stupidity?

"Have you ever had your son tested?"

"Yes, we have, thank you," said Damien in a tone that made it clear the thanks was sarcastic. "And he's fine."

Of course he was.

"In any case, from the beginning, Greg has expressed a desire to be a hero of Triumvirate calibre, it would behove us all to do our level best to help him get there."

"We'll talk it out with him, see how he feels. If he says he wants to be like that, then, of course, we'll do our best to help him."

Armsmaster breathed a secret sigh of relief, thanked them and handed them over to their PRT escort. He really didn't know what was worse at this point, that someone like Greg was going to reach that peak instead of him; or if he'd fail to get him there.

5th November, 2011- Missy Byron

"I love you so much that I just can't resist you," Missy sang under her breath, flipping the page on her shamefully girly magazine. She hummed the rest of the bars, having forgotten the lyrics.

She sighed at the vapid advice column, none of this would help her.

Loud, muffled voices suddenly broke her out of her reverie. Why there were loud voices she had no idea, no one was out in the main common room but Greg setting up his computers. He hadsomehowconvinced Dean, Chris, Dennis and Rory to have a 'LAN party' with 'the RTS version of Space Opera', whatever that meant.

The voices got louder and less muffled, sounding exactly like Armsmaster asking 'what do you mean you cancelled your appointment with your combat instructor?'

Oh, this ought to be good, Greg deserved a dressing down. She tossed her magazine over her shoulder and crept to the door, easing it open. A quick flex of her power pinched the space between her room and the end of the hallway to a mere inch, letting her peek into the main area.

Armsmaster was looming over Greg, fists clenched and Greg was sitting there looking utterly flabbergasted.

"Just relax bro."

"Do you have any idea how much I've sacrificed!?" Armsmaster suddenly bellowed, throwing his hands up. "Setting up everything for you, going above and beyond, calling in favours and working overtime! You'd throw it back in my face you ungrateful little sh*t! All that potential, wasted! At least Dauntless understands his responsibility, but you wouldn't even care if you did! You want to be Triumvirate? You can't take a single day off, you think I've had a day off in years? No!"

Missy drew back, a sick feeling clawing in her guts. Greg didn't deserve this. This was the kind of sh*t she came here to get away from.

"Because you can't do that when you're clawing your way to the top! Rested back to normal every day? Negative status effects gone? You have it easy!"

Missy peeked back around. At some point Greg had started crying, tears streaming silently down his face as spit began to fleck Armsmaster's neat beard. And here she was, hiding around the corner; as usual.

"Even Dauntless has to suffer like the rest of us while you waltz through your day, blithe and blind to your gifts! What is wrong with you?!"

Greg gave a sniffling sort of whimper to which Armsmaster literally growled.

"Just sort yourself out!" he barked and stormed out of the Wards area.

Missy stood there for a moment to the background of Greg's sobbing. Even if he was really annoying, this wasn't right. She slunk out from behind the corner and beelined over to him.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm an idiot sandwi-ih-ich!" Greg bawled wretchedly in his horrible nasally nerd voice.

She sat down next to him and awkwardly put a hand on his shoulder, "he shouldn't have yelled at you."

He immediately wrapped her in a crushing hug and jammed his face in her shoulder, crying even harder. Missy tried not to cringe and pull away, even though this was her favourite shirt being covered in his blubbering.

"Why, uh, why was he so mad? I've never seen him lose his nuts like that before."

"Probably the sleep deprivation and amphetamine comeda-ah-own!" Greg sobbed for a few more seconds then immediately stopped. "Forget I said that. Emily made me sign a thing saying I wasn't allowed to tell people what's in Observe windows."

God, it was weird hearing the Director being called Emily, "ok, but can you let go of me now?"

"Mou," Greg huffed. "I guess."

He was taking way too long to let go. "Get off!"

"But it was a nice hug!" he protested, finally dislodging himself and retreating to his seat on the sofa.

"You got snot all on my shirt!"

"So? It's just snot, it washes out. Besides, I wouldn't care if you wiped your face on my shirt."

"But that's gross."

He shrugged, now sporting a big silly grin, all evidence of being upset vanishing. "Could be grosser. Your power could be excreting effluvial grime, you could be like Gregor the Snail."

She didn't know what effluvial meant but it sounded bad. "So are you, like, ok now?"

"Hmmm, yeah. Armsmaster didn't really sound like he was mad at me, I think he's just grumpy today," Greg said airily.

No. No, Greg.

"Right, well, I'm going to go change my shirt. You, uh, have fun with this," Missy gestured to the computers.

"Kk, you wanna play? You have much experience with RTS games? This one's pretty high level despite its basic setup but what I really like about this one is the setting. See, you have all these different factions fighting over swathes of galaxy with self-perpetuating armies of murderbots. While that doesn't sound like much the cutscenes on single player mode really sold me on the setting."

Missy closed her eyes, opened them, and stared at the ceiling as Greg droned on. This was going to be her whole afternoon, she just knew it.

Run here. Jump there. Fight on. Practice these. Say this. One more rep.

All culminating, finally, in today.

"You did well in your interview," Geromy 'Dauntless' Weller said excitedly. "This is progress, Dark Smoke. Everyone is proud of you, and because of that, you get to go on your first patrol."

I frowned as we walked up the stairs out of the Wards area and into the impossibly smooth elevator. I continued frowning as it made its imperceptible journey upward and pinged our stop, door opening. I frowned mightily as Dauntless led me through the PRT building and out into the twilight.

There was something important I was forgetting that I had been meaning to do, but…

Oh yeah.

"Hey Dauntless, Sophia bullies my friend at school and also she killed a guy."

Goodbye Luncheon Quest.

Dauntless froze mid-step, and from what little I could see through his Hoplite helmet he looked confused.

"She killed someone at school?" He asked, sounding baffled.

"No, before she joined the Wards," I made to keep walking, but Dauntless didn't follow. "Also she shot Grue with a lethal bolt the other day. I'll tell you more as we patrol," I subtly indicated we continue on.

Huh, so it was a good idea after all. I'd have to thank GStringGirl for that.

"Is this one of your 'jokes'?" Dauntless said, almost managing to properly enunciate the air quotes.

"I would never joke about something this serious," I lied, indicating again that we should move more than fifty meters away from the PRT building. Like seriously, we had sh*t to do Geromy.

He took a step toward me, but only enough to get into my personal bubble. "Why're you only saying this now? You had to have been sitting on this information since day one. You know this is a very serious accusation, right?"

I crossed my arms and tapped my chin, "well… first off I was going to just turn her in, but I was talking to her about it and joked like I was blackmailing her, which she took seriously. Then I was like, 'y'know, maybe she can reform and sh*t' so I was waiting to see if she'd stop being mean to my friend; and she sort of did but not really. Then I forgot about it for a while, then I got reminded when I read she shot Grue, then forgot again because I had to do another PR training thing that day. And then I remembered now."

I smiled, knowing he'd understand it was a very reasonable sort of mistake to make. He didn't say anything for a bit, just standing there staring at me in forgiveness.

"You're lucky it's me because this is as far as it's going to stretch," Dauntless said finally. "We'll do our patrol, you tell me everything, and then when we come back you're going to write out a full report, signed and dated, and hand it in to Armsmaster."

"Yes!" I fist pumped, even though I was getting a funny feeling like Dauntless was mad for some reason. "Good thing too, because this patrol is a quest and I need more to replace the cornucopia that was the Taking Sophia out on a Date Quest I just lost."

Dauntless groaned, pained and exasperated before setting off down the sidewalk. I trotted alongside him, but I wasn't quite as psyched as I thought I would be. I had this nagging feeling like I'd done something wrong with what I'd said to Geromy like I'd made trouble for him or something. Very odd.

There were only a few people out on the streets, this being most people's dinner time, but there were enough to start taking a few pictures of me as I did my Hero Walk. I waved back occasionally, as my training dictated but didn't say anything, as my orders dictated.

Lame! How was I supposed to get famous if I couldn't bantz with the citizenry?

Besides beating up Villains, which according to Armsmaster I wasn't even allowed to try yet on account of me only being as /fit/ as an average gymbro; even if my skills made me hit harder and faster than my stats implied I could. Soon, he'd promised.

"So what's our patrol route, Big D?"

"Never call me Big D again," said Dauntless. "And we're just doing a quick loop of the Boardwalk, it's only your first patrol. Really, the purpose of it is to get you a little exposure and to also get you used to being on the job."

「This is sh*t! sh*t!」I muttered. I mean, yeah but still.

"Beg pardon? I'm sorry I don't… speak…" Dauntless stopped walking. "Dr. Wu?"

f*ck!

"Dr. Who?"

"Dr. Wu."

"Who?"

"No, W-never mind that. You were Dr. Wu, weren't you? From the Boardwalk two months ago."

"Uh," my voice chose a most inopportune time to crack. "I've never heard of anyone by that name before."

Dauntless suddenly started walking again down the direction of the Boardwalk, so I guess he bought it like a chump. Dr. Wu remained safe another day.

Idly I wondered what Coil was up to. He was probably sitting in his snake-themed office seething over the loss of my services while his mercs served him snake venom flavoured tea.

"Hey Dauntless, when we're in the Triumvirate, would that make it the Pentumverate?" I asked the hard-hitting question.

"Well, if we ever make it there, I dunno," he said, kind of awkwardly like he wasn't psyched as f*ck to be one of the five big dick G's for some reason. "They're probably too iconic to get rid of the Triumvirate as a name, so we'd always get second billing unless we can do something they never could."

"I'm gonna kill an Endbringer!" I chirped.

"Yeah," he replied heavily as we walked. "Yeah, that'd about do it."

Hmmm, no quest for that though. Well, whatever, I had a patrol one to do; and I'd do it damn well.

Doing it damn well turned out to be damn boring. We just powerwalked along, Dauntless occasionally telling people we couldn't stop and chat while I wasn't allowed to speak to any of my adoring fans. To add to that, I wasn't even allowed to post on any of my DarkSmokePuncher social media handles! This whole thing was horse sh*t, apparently, I couldn't be trusted to handle myself on the internet like I hadn't been online for years. I knew how the dog and pony show worked, I knew what memes worked and what didn't.

Aaaaaaand straight into DEX. Oh, baby, that was a strange feeling. Nothing like the feedback I got from dumping into INT. I felt smoother, more balanced, and quicker. Honestly, these days I was feeling pretty f*cking great with my better than average VIT. I was looking good too, not that I wasn't smokin' beforehand, but now I looked healthy. And I could run. Oh could I run, it was f*cking crazy.

I was, god forbid my Chad genetics expressing themselves, enjoying exercise.

"You've been pretty quiet," Dauntless said suddenly while our ride skimmed over the force field bridge to The Rig. "Even with the gag order, they said you'd be chatty."

I frowned, I hadn't even noticed.

"I was thinking about the Sophia thing. You didn't seem happy about it."

He turned to look at me incredulously, one eye still on the road. "Why would I be? You're accusing her of violating her parole, of murder, if it's true she's going to get sh*tcanned; pardon my French. This is horrible, for everyone from her family all the way up the line to Armsmaster. Why didn't you tell anyone sooner?"

"I dunno," I shrugged uncomfortably. And I really didn't, 'cause I was pretty sure there was a clause in my Obverse Contract that I was allowed to tell if someone had committed a felony. I'd have to re-read that thing. "Sorry?"

"Sorry," I repeated as it was apparently the correct answer.

"I don't know if this is a situation where you can just say sorry, Dark Smoke."

Preposterous. There was never a time where a sorry wouldn't help.

"I know you have a condition, but you need to start thinking before you act."

I recoiled. "I'm not retarded!" I said hotly. "I just tell the Nazi's that."

Geromy cleared his throat but didn't say anything, indicating he understood. He pulled into The Rig's carpark and we vacated our weird microcar, hustling it into The Rig proper and up into Geromy's office.

It was pretty lame in here, not a single manime figma. Not even any official merch, even I had a Legend nendo. And to belabour the point even more about how lame the office was, he didn't even have a poster of himself.

Luckily we were only in there long enough for me to write up my report on both my first patrol and everything I knew about Sophia's criminal activities. My hand flew across the page like the 19 DEX powerhouse it was, words pouring like silk as I wove tales that were grandiose even in their dry accuracy. Because I wasn't allowed to embellish reports anymore because 'it was illegal'.

It wasn't long before we were being buzzed into Armsmaster's considerably less lame office; he even had a signed poster of himself to himself! How cool was that?!

"Well?" he asked tiredly. He even looked tired, and Armsmaster never looked tired. "Your reports?"

I inhaled sharply to speak, but remembered Dauntless was supposed to go first for reasons and let it go.

"The patrol itself went completely fine, Da-"

"It was so boring!" I cut in because Armsmaster just had to know. "All we did was walk around. Big D can fly, and I can jump good, can we do the roof hopping sh*t next time? I've always wanted to do that!"

"Dark Smoke Puncher behaved himself and completed the patrol as per orders," Dauntless continued as though I hadn't spoken. "I've already emailed the report on that through, but Dark Smoke has a very important one for you."

Oh, this was one of those things I was going to get in trouble for I just knew it.

"Well firstly, I levelled up from the patrol quest and put the points into DEX."

Armsmaster nodded.

"And also this," I handed him the written report of Sophia's escapades.

He wasn't wearing his helmet or armour so even I could see his face and shoulders droop as he read.

"I don't know whether to be impressed you bothered to tell or disappointed it took so long," he sighed. "You don't know how happy I'll be when control of the Wards transfers to Director Piggot next year."

"Well," I said. "I think you should be impressed. I'm always impressed with myself."

"Just leave, the both of you. I have to spend time I don't have setting up an investigation against one of our own heroes. Both of you will need to be on call to answer questions," Armsmaster said. "You had better not be lying about this, Greg, because I know you don't comprehend even one iota of how serious this is. For your sake, you had better not be trying for some joke only you understand."

Oh, neat!

"Thank you, again, for giving me the opportunity to help out like this," I quoted my script, my PR handler hovering over my shoulder like a passive-aggressive moth, just waiting to report any f*ckup I made back to Armsmaster.

"It is absolutely no problem, Dark Smoke Puncher," said Chief Physician Dan with a smile. "We look forward to your next visit."

He didn't sound very sincere though, but f*ck that guy. How else was I going to grind exp to up my medical skills? I bet he was just jealous I'd eventually be able to slap a Band-Aid on a broken leg and call it a day.

Nevertheless, PR moth and I trundled out of his office and-

Very nice.

PR guy was yammering on as usual about utterly insignificant, minor fixes I could make to my performance. I was tempted to actually conform long enough to get this stooge off my back, like seriously man, I was a genius! I didn't need you here, everything that transpired here was going exactly according to my design.

As we rounded a corner I saw a flurry of white bustle out of a room and head toward us. I Observ-

I burst forward, covering the twenty or so meters in about two seconds. "Panacea!" I grasped her hands. "I need you!"

She tried to pull away reflexively, letting out a cry of shock. "What? Why?"

I leaned in real close, clapped my hands and Edward Elric spread them in front of her face. "Monsters!"I whispered dramatically.

She started freaking the f*ck out. It was kind of impressive really, previously I thought The Nile was only a river in Egypt.

But I could see somehow I went wrong. "Just kidding~" I trilled as PR guy finally caught up.

"What the f*ck are you doing?!" he hissed. "Panacea, I'm so sorry about this. Whatever inappropriate remark he made, he probably thought he was being funny. I'm Taylor Miles, PR handler for Dark Smoke Puncher, is there anything we can do to apologise for him bothering you?"

"I wasn't bothering her," I retorted. It had been an unironic request. She could make monsters. I was an RPG character, I existed to kill monsters. Who else was I going to ask, Nilbog? Ffs.

"He was bothering me," said Amy for reasons unknown. "Just leave me alone."

"Of course," PR Soy Boy said, unsuccessfully trying to manhandle me away due to his poor STR stat. "We'll leave right away."

Eventually, I let him drag me away. "Bro," I said. "Why you gotta be co*ckblocking my exp's like that? I'm trying to maintain."

He scoffed and sighed at the same time, "at least that was your only screw-up, just for the love of god please try not to alienate the best healer in the country. Small mercies it happened in private."

In private eh? I ignored the rest of his inane prattle as we left the hospital, a plan was forming. A most delightfully devilish plot…

GStringGirl: I can't believe you actually took my advice, when did you stop being retarded?

XxVoid_CowboyxX: I was never retarded, I bet your INt is like, 12

GStringGirl: hidoi!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: rawr >:3
XxVoid_CowboyxX: now shut up and give me more good advice on how to get panacea to make monsters for me to kill

I put my phone away and concentrated on my tracking, weaving through endless corridors; eyes peeled for any hint of my quarry. With the taking GStrinGirl's advice turning out to be a good idea I realised there were wells of it hitherto untapped, right here at school even. If I was sneaky enough.

And I was sneaky enough.

But unfortunately lunch hour wasn't enough to track Taylor down before World Studies so I would be forced to do this with an audience, but that was cool, I was all about the challenge these days.

I sat in the usual seat, next to Sparky, but I had a feeling he wouldn't be a good choice to ask for advice. Something like this needed a delicate touch, and Taylor was pretty girly being a girl and all.

"Taylor!" I bellowed the second she stepped through the door. "Taylor, l'me ask you summin'!"

She closed her eyes for a long second, no doubt preparing herself for any number of curveballs I might throw at her. "What do you want, Greg?" she asked as she sat down at my table.

I grinned my sunniest grin.

"I need some advice, see I have this friend, let's call her Big P and I'm trying to get her to do me a favour I'm not sure she wants to because she's an idiot and I need to know how to convince her to do it."

Taylor suddenly looked real uncomfortable, "what favour?"

"I uh," I stammered. "I can't tell you."

"Don't ask her for it," she muttered, looking a bit flushed.

Weird, it was starting to get pretty chilly, but maybe she had on too many layers or something.

Oh!

"Oh!" I snapped my fingers. "You're right, I shouldn't justexpecther to do something like this for me. I should be asking her 'a-what can I do-a for you?'" I made the Italian hand gesture in a flawless accent. "Thanks! I knew asking you would be a good idea."

A muffled noise started emanating from Sparky that I was placing somewhere between admiration and disgust. But that last part couldn't be right.

"Bruh," he said.

And all was right in the world, within our little outcast group.

A week later saw me peeking over the back fence of Amy's house with a pair of binoculars. Tonight was the night, my surveillance indicated only the Target and Mark Dallon were home. I'd already mapped my way around the security, now it was just a matter of getting in. I inventoried the binos, took a step back and vaulted the fence.

I flitted around the edge of the yard until I got to a blind spot in the motion sensor lights, then raced up to the wall and continued to edge around it until I was in an optimal position. A jump had me soundlessly catching the first-floor eave, I hauled myself up and shimmied across until I was underneath Amy's window. I turned sideways to give my knees room to bend and jumped again, catching the outside frame of the window with a bit more noise than I wanted.

I hung there, waiting for a solid minute, before lifting myself up and crouching as best I could wedged as I was outside. I gently tried the window; locked. Well f*ck, nothing else for it I guess.

I knocked politely on the glass.

Amy leant into view with a confused expression, one hand already removing an earphone. I waved and she jumped about a foot, a comical expression of surprise etched across her face.

I laughed and mimed for her to open the window for me.

"Who are you?!" she sounded a bit muffled from behind the glass.

"Dark Smoke Puncher, we met the other day. Can I come in?"

"No!"

"Please?"

"No!" she stormed up to the window. "f*ck. Off."

"But I came to apologise," I whined. "Let me in."

"Why are you outside mywindow?!"

"I'm a ninja," I said. "It's what I do."

"I don't care, go away! I can't make monsters in the first f*cking place!"

"Pan Pan, please," I said scornfully. "We both know that's not even slightly true. Now let me in, I have an apology to make."

There was a moment where I really thought she just wasn't going to let me in, and then I didn't know what I'd do. My plan would be ruined. Luckily she relented and flicked the latch on the window, letting me scramble in.

I dusted myself off, scanning the place. It was really boring for a Biokinetic's room, not even a single Piranha Plant or Bakeneko.

"Well," Amy said, arms crossed. "Out with it."

"Oh, right yes. Sorry I asked you to make monsters for me in public, without offering anything in turn. It was wrong of me to assume you'd just up and do me the favour, sh*t like this needs a little givu andu taeku, so how about I help you hook up with Glory Girl?"

I was proud of that apology, I hadn't even gotten my parents to help me write it.

Amy however, went white as a sheet and sat down.

"No?" I frowned, I assumed that would work. "Anything else you're after?"

"How?"

I was going to say, 'I need to know what to do the how' but then realised what she meant.

"I have a thinker power that lets me know who people are and exactly what they can do. Now normally I'd be against this because she's going out with one of my friends and it would make him sad, but for this, I can make an exception."

"But," Amy whispered, covering her face with her hands. "She's mysister!"

"Oh," I said, drawing the word out. "That. Yeah no, faux incest yuri is the purest form of love."

"No!"

"Uh, yes."

She started crying.

"No, no, no, no, no! I was, it was going so well! You," she sobbed. "You stupid f*cking asshole!"

"Why're you upset?" I asked, aghast. This wasn't how I imagined this going at all. "Isn't that what you want?"

"No! For f*ck's sake, she's my sister it'sdisgusting!"

"Well," I drawled. "That's not very progressive."

With a shriek, she leapt to her feet and decked me.

-5

I started crying.

She started crying again.

"Well it isn't," I sniffled. "And besides, you aren't even blood-related. What, you're gonna go by what society says is cool like some sorta sheep? Pangea, you're better than that."

She kept crying and it was becoming incredibly obvious I'd touched a very raw nerve. I mean, her Observe bio said as much but I hadn't expected it to be so extreme IRL.

"Ok," I said. "Forget the yuri, what else do you consider a fair trade for monsters?" She opened her mouth, no doubt to tell me to f*ck off again. "And telling me to go away doesn't count."

"Kill yourself," she said.

"Nice meme, but seriously."

"I can give you cancer you know," she spat. "Even if you told the PRT, who're they gonna believe. You, or Panace-"

I yawned loudly.

She opened her mouth, face twisted in a snarl but I yawned again.

"Yeah,right. I can tell that's a bluff, and anyway, even if you did I'd wake up completely fine," I scoffed, then brightened as I had a really good idea. "Actually, if you want that to be your favour go ahead, make me real sick."

"What?" Amy asked.

"Yeah," I stuck my hand out. "Infect me with some real gnarly sh*t, I'll sleep it off and then be resistant afterwards. My power's real cool."

"No!" she said indignantly.

"You're being very unreasonable. First, you reject help with your Mirror of Erised, and now you won't even follow through on your threat to poison me with cancer," I trundled over to the bed and sat down. "Girlsareweird."

"It's not unreasonable to reject offers from people who'retrying to help you f*ck your sister!" Amy hissed in a whisper, as though someone might hear her.

"In this context, I think it is, I mean, it's not even illegal. Sure even I think it's kinda weird, but man I don't blame you. She's seriously hot, plus I think you might have been like, enthralled by her aura," I shrugged. "But that's just speculation."

She goggled at me.

Ah, of course.

I held out my hand, "My real name's Greg, by the way. Greg Veder. I don't have a sister I want to bang but sometimes I jerk it to H-manga and pick my nose and eat it."

I struggled not to flush, what was the Japanese word for embarrassing?!

Amy's literally 13 INT struggled to process what I had just told her even though sharing secrets was like the most absolute basic friendship building technique. She breathed deeply, for a time, working through her options.

"I," she said. "Do not want your help."

"Really?" This was genuinely surprising. "Because you're not doing a very good job of it by yourself, I can be your wingman, Pancake. I can be your Maverick."

"Yes really."

"Oh, I really didn't expect this. Well, I could offer… something else, but now that I think about it maybe you wouldn't want it. If something like the whole Glory Girl thing made you cry, you'd probably hit me again if I told you."

"Yeah, you'd definitely hate it."

"I woulddefinitelyhate it," she echoed, which I took as a cue to lower my outstretched hand.

"Well," I cracked my knuckles idly. "Where are we on the monsters thing? I know you're chomping at the bit to do something that isn't healing."

"Whydo you want to kill monsters?"

"You ever played games where you get experience points?"

She nodded, nose running like a tap.

"Well there you go, I literally get xp and level up. I'm an RPG character, I kill monsters, it's what I do."

"Even if I wanted to, I don't have the time," she said.

The Phoenix Wright noise went off in my head; that was a lie. It was well known she only did like two or three hours of healing a day. This was it. I could feel my brain blasting Jimmy Neutron style.

"Oh? Not even now? It's barely nine thirty."

"You're a real c*nt, you know that?" Amy growled.

That hurt, but my case was rested. There was just something else I needed to say to get her on the hook, but I just didn't know. Why wasn't my HUGE INT helping? Should I read that How To Friend book Armsmaster told me to?

Or…

"How about we talk about this later," I ventured. "Over," a human activity? What did friends do? "Coffee."

Amy's upper lip curled. "Are you trying to ask me out?"

"Asfriends, Pantomime. I would never try to get between pure yuri, well, unless you asked."

She rolled her eyes, still glistening with tears, her voice on the verge of breaking. "You know, purposely getting my name wrong in a different way every time you say it isn't cute or funny."

"It is! How dare you!" I protested. "You should be hit by the Shame Beam for that!"

"Can you go already?"

"I will go," I stood up. "But it will be because I chose to."

I smoke bombed the room, rolled backwards over the bed, vaulted out the window too close too closetoo close to the paving, hit the grass in a textbook commando roll and jinked right to avoid the auto lights again. Within a second I was over the fence, and within five more I was two lawns over.

No quest failed pop up? No quest failed pop up.

Damn, I was smooth.

The door to Armsmaster's Lair closed automatically behind me, noiseless and smooth. This was the first time I'd been invited into The Lair so it was all very exciting, hopefully, it meant me and Colin were bros now; he hadn't even yelled at me in ages!

He regarded me stonily from behind his helmet, "Greg, while I wish you had come forward sooner you did the right thing in giving us the information for the Shadow Stalker case, your intel was correct on all accounts."

Oh yeah, that was a thing, wasn't it?

"No problem, man," I shrugged. "It's my thing, it's what I do."

"Not like you to show humility."

"Well, I'm tired so…" I left the implication hanging. Seriously, I only had 21 VIT, so stacking school, gymming, martial arts, skills training and hospital duty was kinda tiring dude. "Also I have an update on my healing rate, 20 VIT gives me an increase to two percent of my health back per minute."

"Oh good," Armsmaster said in a way that implied he didn't really think it was good. "So now you heal back up in fifty minutes instead of one hundred."

"Exactament. And the stats for your quest are all there now too, just need the skills."

"Very good," he nodded. "There was something else I wanted to ask of you, along the same lines as what happened with Shadow Stalker."

"Lay it on me, bro."

"Now that I know you can keep at least some things a secret, there's a matter I'd like your assistance with. I suspect there's a mole in the PRT or Protectorate staff, with you on board to Observe them I would be able to swiftly eliminate them and thus deprive whichever gang they're associated with a valuable line of information. Can you do this?"

"This… isn't anofficialorder, is it?"

"No," said Armsmaster shortly. "This can't be, this cannot leave this room lest the mole catches wind and goes into hiding."

It sounded legit, but I didn't think he was being straight with me.

Oh yeah, Glory Hound was one of his traits, wasn't it? Oh well, who even cared.

"Sure, I can do that-"

"-no problem, dude." I dismissed the quest popup with a lengthy yawn. "It's a quest."

"Thank you," Colin said with a smile. "Now get home and get some rest, god forbid I keep you here a second past ten and anger the Youth Guard. We'll discuss this further in the next few days."

"K, catch you on the flip C-dog."

And with that I left for home, jonesing for that eight-hour rest to remove my TIRED status condition.

The next day at school something rather unexpected happened. Big Cal changed his conversation opener.

"Lookin' fit, buddy."

NANI!

"Nani?" I said.

"Yeah," he continued even though he probably didn't know what I said. "Been hitting the gym?"

"You betcha!" I grinned, giving him a cheeky flex. "I'm not even skipping leg day."

"Right on," he grinned back, crossing his own beefy arms. "No man has the right to be an amateur in the matter of physical training. You were kind of a chubby little sh*t before… hey, you wanna come hang with me and the lads this afternoon, pump some iron?"

"Is this like, one of those Aryan Union things," I frowned. "'Cause I'm pretty sure I'm still too retarded for that."

"Nah," Cal waved an airy hand. "You don't seem that retarded anymore, least compared to a while back. And don't worry, this is just gonna be some boys shooting the sh*t and getting swole."

Uuh… Nani the kuso is this, quest system? Could I be a Nazi though? It didn't sound like it would be a whole lot of fun, none of them would even watch animes. They were probably all normies anyway, worse than the PRT; plus the E88 was a sausage fest.

"Yeah, nah-"

"I've got like, sh*t to do today. And every other day."

He did this little laugh thing like he'd somehow seen through my next level lie.

"Ok, but I told you not to worry about it, it's not a Union thing," he gave me an upnod. "See you round, buddy."

"Bye, dude," I waved as he left. He was still an odd one, that Big Cal, I think that was the longest conversation we'd ever had. Oh well, time to go to work.

I turn around and immediately spotted Taylor, who was walking along and flinching at every sound, looking nervously over her shoulder all jittery like.

"Too much coffee?" I called, bounding up to her. "I know too much makes me paranoid."

She recoiled, "what?"

"I said you need to cut back on the coffee, hombre."

"I don't drink coffee," she said like that was a fact I should have already known.

"Me either, on account of caffeine paranoia. Anyway, watchu been up to? I've been busy as sh*t, plus I found this old eighties mecha anime I have like two hundred episodes to get through; it's kinda space opera-y so I'm watching it in prep for the new Space Opera game that's gonna have a Christmas release."

"I haven't been up to anything," she muttered, looking over her shoulder again and shuffling so her back was to a wall.

"Are you sure? Because you look super sus, are you hiding drugs in your bag? Is it drugs? Please tell me its drugs."

"It's not drugs."

"Oh la-di-da," my sarcastic drawl betrayed by my grin. "Too highbrow to inject Krokodil into your nutsa*ck are you?"

Taylor closed her eyes and sighed, her frown lessening slightly. "Yes, I'm about Bath Salts these days."

"Bath Salts!" I affected a gasp. "Trying to LARP as upper-class now? The Krok not good enough for you anymore?"

"No."

"You're not usually this paranoid," I observed as she glanced around again and shuffled closer to the wall.

"I'm just… waiting for it," she forced herself to look straight at me for once. "Look, Greg, I gotta get home. Bye."

And she left, darting into a gap in the foot traffic. I wondered what she was waiting for. Oh well, just another weird quirk all my friends seemed to have.

I laughed, slapping my knee.

"Assault and Battery!"

I laughed harder.

"Assaultand Battery!"

Of course.

"AssaultandBattery!"

Where else would you get a magic potion but from a Cauldron?

"Yeah," said Ethan. "That's the joke."

I sighed and wiped a tear from my eye, "good sh*t, what're you guys here for?"

"We're here to get Vista for a patrol," Chloe said. "Up around the doc-"

"Take me with you!" I begged. "It's been like three months and I've only done one and it wasso boring! I'm tired of doing nothing but training and PR sh*t and reading dossiers and crime reports! I'm dying here bros! I wanna live!"

"Yes, well, Armsmaster told us you weren't allowed."

"But me and him are tight now, I even got to go in his Lair!"

"It is very lair-ish," Ethan nodded. "He even has a Dragon in there."

Chloe snorted, then pretended she hadn't. "In any case, there wouldn't be time to arrange it we're leaving as soon as we get her."

"But what if I were to switch costumes with Vista and pretend to be her? We're both blond, I think it could work."

"Smokey," said Ethan. "If you wanna dress up as a girl you don't need an excuse."

"Whatever, you guys are lame. You used to be cool, man. What happened to you man?"

"Life did, Smokey. Life did."

"Ok, enough," Sargent Chloe Killjoy cut in lightly. "We all have work to do. We'll get Vista and go, you go back to doing whatever it is you're doing."

I was reading up about The Teeth. Why I had to read about a gang that hadn't been in the city for like a decade I had no idea, and I was sure it wasn't because they were going to try to get me to transfer 'cause my last two reading assignments were a gang in Cali and one in Florida.

"If I said I was injecting Krokodil would you take me along?" I asked plaintively.

She shook her head and walked off toward Missy's room.

"Fine," I said to Ethan, withdrawing a hypodermic needle from my inventory. "Ima inject Krok into my nutsa*ck and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"What is Krokodil?" he asked, strolling over to lounge on the arm of the couch opposite.

"Uh, it's like flesh-eating heroin," I gave the needle a little spin.

Ethan closed his eyes, nodding and smiling genially. "Be my guest, Smokey, fill that sack with sweet, sweet smack."

sh*t! Bluff called! "I'll, uh, I'll do it later."

Ethan grinned from ear to ear, "tell you what, you don't needle your nutsa*ck and I'll put in a request for a patrol for us sometime. Sound like a fair trade?"

I'd been bested, his blistering madcap assault had seen straight through me.

"f*ck yeah, boi! Thanks!"

Ethan chuckled, tapped his foot a few times and literally bounced to his feet. "Just keeping this winner from doing drugs," he winked.

Battery came back, Missy in tow, and they left for their patrol. Assault was so corny, it was great.

Now, back to this sh*t.

"YesMiles," I sneered. "I can, in fact, go up to the roof with Panacea alone. We're friends now, capiche?"

PR guy seethed on the stairs impotently as I shut the door in his face.

"Aah no, that was so mean!" I whispered to Amy, covering my face with my hands. "Should I apologise?!"

The evening breeze ruffled her silly cloak as she shrugged, the motion stiff, uncomfortable.

"Still…" I dithered. I was pretty sure that was the first time I'd been mean to anyone in ages.

"Do what you want," Amy fished a pack of cigarettes out of a pocket, tapped one out and lit it in a practised motion.

Kyaa~ Amy-chan kakkoi!

She rolled her eyes and tossed me the pack. I hurriedly copied her, lighting up with a box of matches out of my inventory. I inhaled-

-1

Neat. I threw the cigarettes back over and managed to exhale without coughing my guts up like last time.

"That Japanese cartoon you said to watch, Lemony?" Amy said. "It was sh*t."

"But lesbian stepsisters, Amy! The core premise!"

"It was just some dumb soap opera."

"I getcha," I nodded sagely. "A connoisseur. Try Shingeki no Lesbian Horses*, a manga for a true patrician."

"That sounds absolutely f*cking retarded."

"To a pleb," I waved her sh*t opinions away like an annoying mosquito. "It can be a little too avant-garde for some, to ripe for the undiscerning mind. It might seem retarded but is actually super serious and will make you cry."

"Yeah, ok," Amy exhaled a plume of smoke into the chilly night. "I got nothin' to lose."

"Except your mind," I waved my cigarette at her. "When you comprehend its genius."

She chuckled and we fell into a silence that for some reason I didn't feel compelled to fill.

"With this monster thing," Amy said suddenly. "Isn't it kind of evil to make something solely for the reason of murdering it for sport? Even if it wants to be killed?"

I had prepared for this.

"Tell me, Amy, how conversant are you on the topic of P-Zombies?"

"Missy! Missy! Missy! Missy! Missy!" I hammered on her door like a lunatic. "You havegotto see this!"

"Oh my god, what?!" she bellowed.

I heard her stomping up to the door before flinging it open, glaring at me. Pfft, what was she mad for?

"I have made a most marvellous discovery! Behold!" I flung my hands out to my sides and cast Mana Smoke, only this time instead of dark blue it was scaldingly bright pink. Thank you based Panacea!

She stared for a moment, "so you're going to be Pink Smoke Puncher from now on?"

"You need to be more impressed," I cast the spell again, this time in a double rainbow of colours. "Not only am I a better version of Dauntless, poised to overtake Eidolon, now I'm also a better Legend!"

Missy flapped her hands through the rainbow cloud, dissipating it. "They can all fly."

"Ah," I said, smile turning brittle. "You chose the words that would hurt me most, didn't you?"

"You'll figure it out, you're," Missy sighed painedly. "Very smart."

"Damn skippy!" I preened. She had seen the truth of my HUGE INT after I did all her homework in about three seconds one time, all of it correct. She'd gotten detention for cheating. "Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to create new abilities."

"Just stop banging on my door about it," Missy called after my retreating back, but I ignored her. She was just being tsun about it, she'd go dere soon enough when I whipped out whatever awesome skill I made next.

I sat back down on the couch and stared at my hands. I had no f*cking idea on what to do next, Mana Smoke had been a fluke; one I had no idea how to replicate. I could always feel my mana though if I concentrated, like a pool deep within the metaphysical realms of my mind but doing anything but pulling it out (which turned into Mana Smoke) was maddeningly difficult. Sure, if I could focus on that I'd have something to show for it but most of my time was eaten up by school (which I obviously couldn't practice there in case someone saw) and now levelling up my non-magic skills.

But now I had Mana Control.

Playing around with my smoke had made me realise that Mana didn't actually have colour, and the smoke was only blue because the bar on my HUD was stylised as such and my brain had run with that. I wasn't sure what that breakthrough promised but I hoped it was good.

I knew I needed to go back to basics, but I had no idea what the basics for this even were beyond Mana Smoke being just literally coloured mana. Gods of anime and Minecraft give me strength!

I knew what must be done. I extended one hand, fingers clawed, and gripped my wrist with the other. If Mana Smoke was raw and unfocused, the next step ought to be raw and focused.

"HNNNNNG!"

"HNNNNNNNNNG!"

Out of Mana and I couldn't see sh*t because it was just smoke. Ok, next time make it condensed.

"HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!"

Thicker!

"HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNG!"

More stable!

"HNNNNNNN-oh!"

I nearly dropped the misshapen lump of solid mana I was holding.

Observe.

I threw it at the floor and it shattered into a million blue shards before evaporating. YES! Like a solid hour and a half that took! I made another, more spherical lump of mana and immediately smashed it. This required something with proper gravitas…

"Missyyyyy!" I stood outside her door, once again finally at full mana capacity. "Come watch me do this real cool sh*t!"

No answer, had she left? Actually what time was it? I mentally wound back time-based on my mana consumption and regeneration… and yeah, she should still be here.

"Missy!" I shouted again, withstanding the urge to knock on her door again lest she be mad. A few seconds later I heard light footsteps and the door cracked open.

"I was asleep," Missy whined, managed to sound both sleepy and cross. It was very cute. "What is it now?"

I grabbed her arm and dragged her out into the common area. "Yeah yeah yeah, youhavewatch this sh*t because no one else is here, its so god damn rad I swear it's worth it."

She made a whingy sound but stood there anyway, blinking blearily, and crossed her arms with a yawn.

I trotted over to the pre-cleared area I made and knelt down on one knee, right fist planted firmly. A thin circle of smoke began to drift up around me.

"Iamtheboneofmysword," I intoned in a voice of deep silk and nutsa*ck hair. "Steelismybodyandfireismyblood. Ihavecreatedoverathousandblades," the smoke thickened, cloying into vaguely sword-shaped clouds. "Ihavenoregretsthisistheonlypath …"

I clapped, looking up to meet Missy's eyes and spread my arms, "Unlimited Blade Works!"

And then there were swords.

Full colour, yet lacking the shine of real steel, when they clattered to the ground it wasn't with a metallic sound. I didn't really know what to compare it to. But still.

"How f*cking sick was that?"

She was silent for a moment. "How did you do that with your voice?"

"Voice acting skill. Are you sure you don't want to ask about the swords?"

"Honestly," she yawned. "The voice was more impressive, you normally sound so dumb and nerdy."

That actually really hurt.

"But the swords though," I managed not to cry.

"Yeah, I guess they're cool enough for me to not hit you for waking me up," she turned and started walking back to her room.

"But the swords, Missy,the swords!"

"Show me again tomorrow when I'm actually awake."

"But the swords…" I whined. "The swords."

Her door shut and I was alone again, alone with my swords. I picked up a katana, cradling it, observing it for the low-quality mana replica it was; it wasn't even sharp. In that moment I hated it. Whatever, it wasn't like I wanted Missy to think my sword magic was baller as f*ck or some gay sh*t like I needed approval. I knew it was turbo cool and I was the only person whose opinion I needed to listen to.

"What's up with the voice?" Chris asked.

"I'm just practising my VA skill," I said quickly. "Now shut up and sit down."

He made an expression somewhere between annoyed and incredulous but did as I asked. Now the whole team was assembled.

"You have been called here today to bear witness," I quoth, and they were all here for a training exercise but that wasn't important right now. "To my greatness. What you are about to see here today is but the first step, what will be a mere sliver, of my power."

"And Greg said," I spread my arms. "'Let there be swords!'"

And then there were.

I caught the centrepiece, the Kubikiribocho, as it fell and swung it around gracefully stepping forward into a stance amid fallen blades; dripping with smoke.

I didn't have to say 'please clap', because they already were during a deluge of 'yeah!', 'Nice!' and 'Cool!'.

"Itiscool," I said, hefting the Seversword onto my shoulder like it weighed much more than the few kilos it did.

Rory reached forward and picked an arming sword up, giving it a few swings. "They're super light, what're they made of? Plastic?"

"Literally magic," I preened as the rest of the group availed themselves of my swords.

"Yeah, ok Myrddin," Dennis scoffed. "Not even sharp."

"Hey!" I levelled all two meters of my sword at him. "f*ck you, buddy! f*ck you! This is an anti-bully zone, Myrddin and I can't help that we're magic any more than you can help being a soulless ginger."

Dennis looked taken aback and Dean leant forward, "don't worry Greg, he thinks it's cool. Will they get sharper when you level up the skill?"

"Yes," I huffed. "Obviously. I only learned how to do this literally seventeen hours ago."

"Can you only make swords?" he asked.

"I can make anything," I said proudly. I think I had just enough mana left… a small humanoid figurine appeared in front of me and fell to the floor. "Swords are just cooler though."

Note to self, learn to make anime figmas to brag on the buyfa*g forum of PHO and make that sh*tbird SupaGokuFiyah69 jealous. Hot gluemyseasonal waifus will he?

"I can't imagine you'll get to use the swords much on duty," Rory remarked. "But if they were blunt you might actually have a better chance of it."

I would never sacrifice my artistic vision.

"So this is the stuff Armsmaster was going spare over trying to analyse?" Chris asked, giving his rapier a few swishes. "Looking at it gives me an idea for a new type of scanner, I can think of a few things to do with solid… not light, but whatever energy this is."

"Magic."

"I get that your interface thing calls it mana, but I dunno. It just sounds so unscientific."

"Whatever," I scoffed. "You nerds stay over there with your science and academic rigour, I'll be over here chillin' with my unfathomable cosmic power."

After a little more back and forth a guy buzzed into the common room and told us it was time for whatever training exercise I was sure to ace to start. Probably some dumb teambuilding sh*t, good luck with that when Missy had still to give a proper positive opinion about my Radical f*cking Sword Magic.

I hate her.

I hate her!

"You comin', Pink Smoke Puncher?" Vista asked, standing just inside the vault door.

"I'm so sorry I woke you up yesterday!" I yelled at her. "I didn't realise you were asleep! Please forgive me!"

"And I found more moles than Armsmaster was expecting and the stupid queststillonly gave me a thousand xp, if you can Adam and Eve it."

"Yeah, no, that's…" Amy said absently, holding a limp fish.

"And so I says to him, I says, 'dude this sucks! Where's my xps?' and he's like, 'it's your power you should know'."

Amy threw the fish into the bucket and hooked another piece of bait onto her rod, casting it out over the pier.

"And then I levelled up." My rod jerked and I reeled in another fish, "this bait you made is really something else. How did you end up such an unimaginative spas you never tried anything like this before?"

I handed her the fish and she started on the process of giving it lungs.

"You know exactly why," she tried to wipe her fishy hand on me and I nearly fell out of my folding chair trying to escape.

"I mean, if it were me," I continued. "I'd have gone full Island of Doctor Moreau, made like, a cat hawk or whatever. sh*t would be tight."

"Yeah," Amy sighed. "But, thanks for suggesting we go fishing, it's pretty relaxing."

"Ain't no sh*t, mon'amie, you can always count on the G-man to provide dinner and a show."

"At six in the AM?"

I paused. "It will take a long time to cook?"

Amy gave a little 'hmm' of a chuckle and settled back into her chair, throwing the fish into the bucket.

"You know what would be sick?" I asked, rhetorically of course. "If we caught an octopus. Octopi are baller as f*ck, like three hearts and nine brains, plus special blood, plus great eyesight,pluscamouflage. You should base the monster around an octopus, like, a goblin octopus. Gobopus."

"I think we should just stay away from goblins altogether, you know?" Amy reeled in her now baitless hook. "For obvious reasons."

"Maaaaaaan," I drawled. "Who even gives a f*ck, I bet you'd make Nilbog look like a chump. You're the OG Fleshshaper, and by flesh I mean any living biological organism and even ones of questionable living status. I bet you could make an Ent. I bet you could make Treebeard."

"I… suppose I could," Amy kind of squirmed in her chair. "But could you? You said you could get elements or whatever after Mana Control, seems kind of arbitrary to keep it at that."

I waved a hand dismissively, "it's probably further up the mage tree after Mana Control II atseventy-five f*cking INT, so that's not going to happen if I want to DEX main. And I have to DEX main. Eidolon is obviously on the pure mage build, Alexandra went STR/INT, and Legend went mage and CHA; I can't do a copy of them. I suppose I coulda gone VIT, but meatsheildin' just ain't for me, ya dig?"

"What about Wisdom, or whatever the other one was?"

"Amy, Amy, Amy," I wagged my finger condescendingly. "No one gives a sh*t about WIS."

"Of course."

The next hour or so saw our bucket swell with a bounty of raw bio-fuel, sadly containing no octopus, but you couldn't have everything in life. The bucket went into my inventory for some reason despite the fish by themselves not, as well as the chairs and rods. One last check to see if we'd forgotten anything and we were off, heading way up into The Docks area in search of the most abandoned locale my Urban Tracking skill could find.

"That one," I pointed, cheating with Observe. "Judging by the pattern of the rust this warehouse hasn't seen a single human breath in at least five years, and it's the most empty out of all the ones nearby."

"How the f*ck can you tell that?" Amy asked incredulously.

I grinned at her, "the smell."

"f*cking Thinkers," she groused. "I swear to god."

"So just give yourself Thinker powers, you rube."

"Power doesn't work on myself, dipsh*t," Amy spat.

"So just retrovirus yourself a better brain," I scoffed.

"I have no idea what the f*ck that is."

"So just Google it."

"Shut up you smug c*nt," Amy glared at me. "No wonder you have no friends."

A hand of ice gripped my heart.

No.

No.

No.

No.

"I have lots of friends-ttebayo," I said idly, leading the charge into the warehouse. I forced the door open, nearly busting it off its hinges, and cringed at the stale musty stank of disused building. "Shame there's almost no light in here."

I equipped a camping lantern.

"Urgh, I see what you mean about the smell," Amy wrinkled her stupid idiot nose as she followed me inside. "At least it doesn't smell like hobo piss."

"Which I'm sure you're well acquainted with," I conjured a giant fan and started trying to get some air flow into this misbegotten place.

"You wouldn't know with your cushy f*cking PR stunt sh*t you get to do, f*cking patching up scraped knees like that's anything to be proud of. Go down into the ER sometime, see what the real job's like."

"As soon as I get the skills for it." Y-you big meanie bitch! This kind of Tsundere was sh*t! sh*t! At least Missy pretended to be nice!

"Whatever," Amy crossed her arms, rubbing at her upper arms like she was cold. "Are we doing this or what?"

I solemnly brought out The Bucket and placed it on the floor. With one final deep breath, Amy stepped forward and got to work.

It was interesting, watching the fish melt down to their base constituents and at the same time form a mass of quivering, jellylike brown flesh. I had an Observe on it the entire time, watching stat changes and flavour text evolve in real time; finally culminating in-

Neat.

Amy tipped the bucket over and started trying to tip the lump out, and with a bit of heaving and ho-ing it finally slid out to rest on the dusty floor, undulating slightly.

"sh*t is just gross, right?" I immediately knelt down and started poking at it with a finger, giving the spongy reddish-brown flesh a tweak.

Amy slapped it, sending it jiggling like a big fake ass.

And that was my tipping point, I had no choice but to howl with laughter. Even if today ended here, it would be totally worth it. Even Amy joined in, grabbing the lump with both hands and giving it a vigorous shake. Eventually, our mirth died down and Amy got to work on the second stage.

The resulting abomination looked like a cross between a birdhouse and the part of a Yith you wouldn't want to touch.

"You know this thing works on people, right?"

Amy went white and slapped a hand against her creation. "How about now?" she asked after about a minute.

"Yeah, it's cool now. It has a 'eats everything but humans' line in its bio now."

"Oh thank f*ck," Amy hid her face in her hands. "See, this is why I never did anything like this before. My power is so dangerous."

I disagreed, but whatever. "So what now?"

Please say let's make out.

"Now we wait," Amy said, letting down the team. "Insects and rats and stuff are gonna take a while to get here, so I'm going to read. Give us the chair?"

I pulled out both the chairs and we sat down near the door, close enough to get some light and fresh breeze but not enough to be visible. Well, whatever, while she did that I was going to practice.

I equipped one of my old throwing knives into my left hand, then with my right began to carefully create a Mana Object copy. I sort of had the metallic sheen down, and my blades were starting to get sharp, but the texture was all wrong. Like Rory said it felt kind of plastic.

My mana coalesced into a replica, but it still didn't feel right. The shape was exact, the colour was exact, all three dimensions were there but it just wasn't right. I shuffled my chair around and threw it at a rotting crate off in the far corner, but the stupid thing was so light it didn't even make it all the way there. Just another thing to work on.

It took about ten minutes for it to start being noticeable. Instead of seeing an occasional co*ckroach skitter crazily into the maw, or a fly swooce right in, there was now a cloud of insects slowly swarming into the Devourer; mostly little midges and ants. It seemed to be adding up however because when Amy put her hand on the Devourer it shuddered and grew about a centimetre in every direction.

A curious sparrow hopped into the mouth and was never seen again. A brace of mice followed soon after.

I threw my latest failed knife at the crate, a little more shiny and sharp than before, and it joined its fellows on the floor. Why was it so hard to add weight?

At least it wasn't this hard to put on weight.

"Hey Amy, did you know I've put on like thirty pounds of muscle in three months?"

She looked up from her book, "your power is so f*cking unfair, I can literally see you're way fitter then you were when you broke into my room."

I hadn't broken in, but I expected that wasn't really the point.

"You know, if you wanted to get jacked with a hundredth of the effort I put in just inhibit your myostatin production for a while," I said helpfully. "Mucho aesthetics."

"Why would I want to be all big and gross though?"

"a e s t h e t i c s."

"How did you do that with your voice?"

"Voice acting plus Singing skills," I replied in her voice.

"Was that meant to be me?" she asked, sounded turbo offended at her sadsack, mousey squeak of a voice. "I don't sound anything like that."

"Amy, please," I said, still in her voice. "I have two hundred and fifty percent increased mimicry ability and a near eidetic memory, trust me when I say that is exactly what you sound like."

She looked worried.

"If it makes you feel better," I switched voices. "I can do a real good Armsmaster. Dennis loves it. Beep boop I am Armsmaster, give me the diamonds creep!"

She snickered.

That… didn't make me feel a whole lot better for some reason.

"Prepare for Halbeardation or Dragon waifu-bot will commence SENMETSU."

"Ok, that is f*cking spot on."

We spent a while with me doing other people's voices and Amy critiquing them. Apparently, my Legend was terrible.

Eventually, though, it was time. The Devourer had doubled in size, probably being over seventy pounds by now.

"You got this, bro," I assured her as she hovered nervously, repeatedly almost touching her creation. "I'll tell you if you somehow miss that it's going to explode into a plague."

"It's more the brain I'm worried about, I don't have the slightest clue on how to make one that acts in exactly the same way as one with consciousness but doesn't have any."

"I'll tell you if it has any INT or WIS, easy bro. Easy."

Amy nodded, expression tight, and lay her hand on the beast. It quivered, melting like a candle into another jiggly blob; this time left unslapped.

Slowly, carefully, it began to take on a bipedal form. Filling out into a waxy skinned, vaguely humanoid thing with sort of crab-like armour plating, six eyes and a wide flaring nose standing at about four foot five.

"La Creatura…" I breathed.

"Well?" asked Amy nervously. "As far as I can tell it's not complex enough to be sapient."

"It's retarded as f*ck, the fish we caught were smarter. Or wiser at least, this has one and zero respectively to their one to one."

She let out a long breath, "ok. Ok. Good, we're good then. Just give me another minute to make sure it goes for you."

I nodded pleasantly and soon thereafter she threw me an egg-sized orb I Observed as trigger scent. I smashed it onto the side of my neck and inventoried the shell fragments. Amy frowned, probably because she hadn't had to tell me what it was, but didn't say anything; merely touching her homunculus briefly and stepping back.

The homunculus slowly came to, moving around groggily. What must that even be like, I wondered, coming into being? Probably awesome for anything with eight INT or more. I watched its nostrils flare as it turned in my direction, all eyes blinking for about two seconds before it rushed me.

The thing leapt with a high pitched gurgle, opening a wide, lipless mouth I hadn't noticed it had exposing rows of needle teeth. I pivoted to the left and caught it at the apex of its jump with a textbook left hook, cracking its head armouring and sending it sprawling in the dust.

"Make the next one better," I chortled as it staggered back to its feet and ran at me again, directly into my front kick. The kick slipped off the edge of its face and the homunculus stumbled through unexpectedly and bit down on the arm I was trying to elbow it with.

-20

It was the most painful thing I'd ever experienced.

"Motherf*cker!" I shrieked, grabbing at what little neck it had with my free hand and ripping a solid knee into its chest. Something cracked wetly and its mouth reflexively opened enough for me to rip my arm out, tearing strips of flesh. I put my other hand around its neck, picked it up and smashed it headfirst into the floor.

"Jesus," I said, adrenaline rush leaving me breathless. I hadnotbeen prepped for this. The thing wasn't even dead. I felt kind of bad having to finish it off like this, it couldn't even move much anymore, nevertheless, I knelt down and repeated my head smash maneuver until death.

"That was pretty horrible," Amy stepped forward, around the ichor that was leaking out of the homunculus's head, and reached for my unbitten arm.

I waved her away, "I'll be right in ten, fix the thing before your power recognises it as dead."

I cried my bitch tears on the inside though, god this f*cking hurt some of its teeth were still in me. I inventoried them, causing my arm to bleed a bit harder.

-1

"It worked though, it worked perfectly," I stood up, clenching my bloodied fist. "Our bargain continues, Amy. I will perform for you any one equivalent task, even if it should break my personal code. You have made a powerful ally here today, at any time call in your favour." I paused dramatically. "Because I'm totally down for hooking you up with Victoria."

Lesbians were hot.

"Where is all this extra xp coming from?" Armsmaster stared me down, a perfect mimicry of the poster of himself behind him.

"You know how you give me a bunch of little quests that add up all the time?" I said smoothly. "I realised I could get my parents to do the same, so I've been trying to grind that out lately."

It wasn't even technically a lie, I did sometimes get my parents to give me quests. Ok, so the last part was totally a lie but I couldn't sell a homie out; even to another homie.

"I see. Very excellent, continue to do so," Armsmaster nodded. "On another note, we have to talk about your mode of dress. It's becoming apparent to civilians that you have undergone an enormous growth spurt recently, larger than should be possible for a normal teenage boy, so as a matter of identity security I'm going to have to ask you to wear concealing clothes in your civilian persona as much as is possible."

"But what if some hot piece catches my eye and I have to flex a 'cep to pick up?"

Armsmaster gave what was probably the second or third chuckle I'd ever heard out of him, "yeah, something tells me that's not going to happen."

"It could," I pouted.

"Well, since you took my advice to use your Voice Acting skill to change your normal voice into something less grating the chance might be above zero per cent."

That wasn't why I'd done it, but ok. Also, ouch, f*ck you, Colin, I could get girls if I wanted. Chicks dug handsome, interesting guys; GStringGirl told me so. "Try ninety-eight."

"Of course. And while we're here, your combat instructors tell me there isn't a whole lot more they can teach you without us contacting some real masters," Armsmaster smiled, a little thinly. "Three months of effort and you've acquired the equal to years of training, none of them can keep up with you anymore; especially on speed. So in the next few days, we're going to clear you to start higher level combat training; multiple opponents, weapons and such at as close to real life conditions as we can make it. We're even going to try to get you some time with the other Protectorate members and introduce Parahuman to Parahuman combat."

"Yeah," I leant forward, bouncing in my chair. "Sick! And there's still another three months I get before I have to cash in that quest I still have about beating you in a fight."

I made a mental note to step up my monster killing with Amy to get a head start on multiple opponents as Armsmaster's face fell imperceptibly. He had obviously forgotten about that.

"What were the quest rewards for that one again?" he frowned.

"It's a mystery," I said mysteriously, waggling my fingers to demonstrate said mystery. "All question marks, so it's probably some really high-level sh*t 'cause you'd be a boss monster if this were like that. The stats on that power armour areinsane."

"Yeah…" Armsmaster trailed off. "One more thing I wanted to bring up was stepping up your skills training to include things such as forensic analysis and increasing your time in the hospital in lieu of gym time. You know, to keep the Youth Guard off our backs in case they get it onto their heads we're trying to weaponise you."

"But I thought they were cool with it because my parents were cool with it because I was cool with it."

"Potentially," Armsmaster raised a finger, then glanced at one of his many workshop screens. "Actually, never mind. If it comes up I'll handle it."

"Yeah ok, whatever."

"No cheek," Armsmaster snapped.

"Sorry."

"Ok. Was there anything you wanted to speak about?"

I shrugged, "nothing comes to mind, I'm doing peachy keen."

Armsmaster nodded. "As usual I will e-mail you the date and time of your next appointment. Dismissed."

"Guess what?"

"It's free real estate?" Mum whispered, spraying pie crumbs.

f*cking normies trying to meme. "Something else."

"Is it your voice changing power?" Dad asked. "Because we noticed."

My voice had ended up becoming pretty cool. "No."

"Something to do with Dark Smoke Puncher's PHO threads? Memes?"

"I wish, but no," I puffed myself up proudly. "I'm nearly done with the Armsmastery quest and Armsmaster said he was proud of me and the guys who train me said I'm awesome!"

"Spectacular!" Dad said as mum gave me a double thumbs up. "You know I used to bench three oh five back in college, you'd be up to that by now right?"

"Yeah pretty much!"

"This kinda reminds me," Mum chimed in idly. "What ended up happening with Shadow Stalker? Did she get deported or something?"

"Yeah…" I rubbed my chin. "I think she got deported to juvie, I never got around to asking. Or maybe she got sent to the Madison Containment Zone? I really don't remember, which is strange because I remember everything."

I shrugged.

"I don't really care anyway, she was hot but an absolute M. Crazy Psycho-bitch. Plus she never even liked me."

"Ah, don't worry son, I'm sure you'll meet a nice girl who'll still be absolutely adorable at forty-three," he winked at Mum. "Even if it takes another ten years."

"Pfft," I scoffed. "I'll make you the same bet I made Armsmaster. Six months and I'll have found true waifu material."

Jokes on you Questgiver, if Hana knocked me back I could just get Amy to make me one! f*ckken owned! EZPZ! Homunculus gf best gf!

"Why did you bet Armsmaster you could get a girlfriend?" Mum asked.

"No, that was for his skill book quest. Do you think I could get Miss Militia to go out with me?"

"I thi-"

"You're right, I'll need to quit the Wards so Emily doesn't get all huffy about 'inappropriate, forbidden romance' or some dumb sh*t about AoC laws."

"Use your brain, Greggo," Dad sighed. "Or give it at least three years before you ask her out."

"But the quest says six months!"

"Well, too bad, I'm putting an eighteenth birthday restriction on asking out Miss Militia; no ifs or buts."

Fine, whatever. Homunculus gf it is.

Ambidextrous was an amazing perk. Not just my hands, or feet, but my whole body responded like it was my dominant side.

Harmonious was the word to describe it. My bodysang.

Everything moving in perfect synchronisation as I beat a homunculus with another homunculus.

A burning blue knife burst into existence, clenched tight in my fist. I stabbed, straight through hardened carapace, seven times in a fifth of a second.

I threw as the second homunculus charged, knife catching it in one of its six eyes, and it crumpled like a reused cumrag.

I cracked my neck sickeningly and turned to Amy with a smug grin, "all warmed up."

"You better be, this new one isn't going to give you time to be smug about it," Amy said, hand resting on a big ogre looking motherf*cker. A beast of a thing, two meters tall and rippling with fat and muscle; Bear mode.

Level six Homunculus. Stats all twenty-fives. Crushing Grip and Sturdy CNDNs.

A rush of adrenaline hit me, "Send him at me bro!" I shrieked at Amy. "FE FI FO FUTHERf*ckEEER!"

Amy removed her hand, the ogre woke up and stared me down with piggish eyes the size of tennis balls. We burst toward each other.

I elbow blocked its grab, my own hand snaking down to grip beefy wrist as I crafted a mana hook already around the back of its neck with the other. I yanked down with the hook, wrenched its wrist up and kicked into the inside of its knee with a sweeping motion.

-3

I bounced off the ogre and it barely stumbled from a kick that would shatter a man's leg, immediately resuming its attack. It lunged in for another grab and I jumped, right foot kicking into its left forearm as I drove two daggers into the meat of its other arm. There was a millisecond stall before its knee drove up, grazing my chest-

-15

As I wrenched myself just out of range. I matched its charge with retreat, hurling more burning blue daggers that peppered its chest with shallow gouges. f*cking Amy giving this fat bastard reinforced skin and muscle.

I shifted stance, creating a longsword, and with one hand on the pommel and one at the base of the blade stabbed down at the bulging tendon joining its groin to its hip.

The f*cker dodged and I compensated for stupidly throwing all my weight forward by rolling under a wild hammer fist. I came out of the roll with another stab that caught it right in the solar plexus as it turned for me. The sword caught on its ribs in the twist and I was forced to dodge away from another vicious swipe.

I saw the opening, arm already coming up, mana spike forming at precisely the right time to take out one of its watery eyes, but I paused for a second too long in victory and it took my wrist in its big meaty paw.

-57

It flailed me into the floor.

-183

AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!

"Stop!" shrieked Amy and the ogre went limper than my dick currently was.

I managed to narrowly avoid having it fall on me as Amy ran over, flapping her hands in panic. She put her hand on my leg and I felt the pain fade away.

"That's that real good sh*t," I sighed, but through the broken jaw who knows what that sounded like to her.

"Oh god, you said you could take it!" she cried literal tears as she knitted my bones back together.

"I thought I could," I managed to force myself into a half sitting position. "I had it beat in all stats, but I guess I underestimated what 'Sturdy' meant. I almost died back there, Amy!"

"This is never happening again!"

"Chyeah, no sh*t," I shivered as cold fingers ran through my bleeding internal organs. "I need to start working on my DPS before we do this again, skill monkeying just ain't cutting it. Ha, geddit?"

"No," she said. "I meant never again! I'm going to destroy them all, it was fun up until now but it's at the point where it'sdangerous."

"You shouldn't make decisions in the heat of emotion-"

Nani?

"Let's have a smoke break and go for a walk."

I guess that was sound advice then. Thanks, power, and here I was just trying to manipulate her into keeping going. For some reason. Despite my terror at being bodied by a f*cking ogre again.

Xp is a helluva drug.

"sh*t!" Amy hugged herself, looking green. "Yeah fine, whatever. Let's f*ckin' walk."

I forced the warehouse door shut behind us, relishing the clean air. Cleaner air. But at least it didn't stink of ichor and dust. I equipped two cigarettes and a lighter, lit up, and passed one to Amy. To be honest, the cool factor of smoking was kinda wearing off, but it was Amy's favourite hobby so whatever.

Our shoes crunched on the gritty concrete and gravel as we walked, making an aimless beeline away from the Meat Factory.

"Hey, I just thought of another way to pay you back the favour," I said. I hadn'tjustthought of it, but this was to prime her for future ideas; god damn I was sneaky! "So you're still adamantly against actually hooking up with Victoria for some reason, right?"

"Because it's f*cking gross."

"I disagree, but ok. So, why don't you make yourself a Homunculus gf that looks like her?"

Amy gaped at me. "That is unironically ten times as disgusting."

I recoiled. "I don't understand, please explain."

"You want me to make what is essentially a sex doll out of live meat and program it to want me," Amy said as if she was speaking to a simpleton instead of someone with two times her intellect.

"You still haven't said why that's bad."

"It's f*cking creepy! It'll all just be fake and weird," Amy bit down hard on her cigarette. "Why the f*ck would I want that?"

"Ok," I shrugged. "So make it real, give it a human brain and real feelings, problem solved."

"Its days like this I'm actually happy no one else got my power, because if they did they would straight awaymake f*cking sex slaves!" Amy shook her head at me. "You weird, sad, creep."

"When you put it like that it sounds bad, buuuuut think about it like this. Having a kid is bringing a fully sentient being into existence without a goal or purpose in life, dooming it to wander in search of those things," I inventoried my half-smoked cigarette. "Now ignoring the incest undertones in what I just implied, at least you would be creating a being born with a purpose and would be much more moral than having a kid."

"I would be creating a sex slave that was produced to enjoy being a sex slave, yeah wow I would be so moral."

"It would be happy and you would be happy," I said grumpily. "What's so wrong with that?"

"Oh f*ck off with your basic bitch hedonism."

"Fine, dickhe*d, forget the sex slave part then. All your argument boils down to is you're squeamish about making a super realistic, not even sex doll that wasn't what I said, affection distribution device. I think you're being very close-minded about all of this, and just reacting to whatever emotion comes first instead of actually thinking about it."

"You would say that," Amy laughed. "I don't think you even understand what you just said. Everything I've ever seen you do was on a spur of the moment emotional decision."

"You don't know that! You can't even read minds!"

"Oh yes I f*cking can, what do you think I'm doing every time I touch someone? If I try for it at least," Amy threw her cigarette butt on the ground. "I can interpret the electrical and chemical signals in the brain, not very well, but I can tell the difference between someone who thinks things through and someone who has the self-control of a puppy ie. You."

"Hey, f*ck you!"

"That wasn't even an insult, Greg, a lot of people are like that."

I stewed as we continued our walk. A lot of people were like that? No. Couldn't be. I'd never met anyone like me before. Surely I alone was unique. Normies just didn't get it, right? That was it, right? Self-control of a puppy? Yeah right. What did she know, she didn't understand what it meant to be me, what went behind being me. She only saw the me now, not the me back then.

Yep, that was it, she was just uninformed.

"Laaaame," I brought my half a cigarette back out. "I still think you should consider something like that though, and actually fix your problem instead of angsting."

Which would, in turn, help my Homunculus catgirl gf be real.

Amy let out a sad sort of snicker, "guess I could always retrovirus myself into being ace."

"There's always that," I put my cigarette out on my hand oh f*ck that f*cking hurt! "Can't hurt to have a backup plan."

"I'm… impressed with you, Greg," Armsmaster stared up at the ceiling, arms crossed. "I honestly thought it would be more of a struggle to get to this point, and in the beginning that was true, but you've found in yourself a motivation and discipline I never thought you could have. Every report your trainers have given me have shown a very graphable uptick in praise, even your PR trainers."

A pink swelling feeling blossomed in my chest, "thanks bro, it's only 'cause you set it all up for me."

Armsmaster made a weird, quiet sort of moan.

Ok?

"Now please," he said. "Finish the quest."

I equipped his skill book into my right hand, less an actual book than a hastily bound stack of printed A4 paper. I'd actually read most of it, and if Colin could reliably do even half of what was in this f*cking thing he must be a beast in a fight. And soon, I too would be such a beast.

The book vanished with a blue flash.

¡Dios mío!…

"Jesus f*cking Christ."

I was going to f*cking merc that ogre next time, holy f*cking sh*t.

"It's amazing."

I was going to merc two ogres, at the same time.

"Shiiiiit."

Maybe more.

"Thanks, Bromaster!"

Imagine…

"You're welcome, Greg."

"I just got a quest telling me to become your apprentice," I held out my fist for him to bump. "Whatdya say? Me squirin'?"

Armsmaster smiled weirdly, "Recite back to me the text prompt, including rewards and losses."

I did but left out the beard, that would be a surprise!

"So it doesn't say at all what being my apprentice would entail besides that you won't have to get my drinks or fiddle with my armour?"

"Not really," I shrugged, fist still out. "I guess you just give me pointers every so often and I play hype man when we go kick ass."

Armsmaster gave an eye-rolly little smile and condescended to finally bump the fist, "congratulations on your apprenticeship, Dark Smoke Puncher."

Neat, I equipped the title and the Halberd. "I mean, I'm probably never going to use polearms but the CHA bonuses are alright, hey?"

"You know I can't read your prompts, right?"

I did know that.

"It gives me a plus two bonus when making first impressions or talking to reporters and sh*t-"

"Only then?" Armsmaster cut over me. I nodded and he muttered something that sounded like 'sh*ttalking quester'. "Well, whatever. You had best go get ready for your patrol, I'll send a memo for your next sparring session to be recorded so we can compare your performance prior to finishing the Mastering Arms quest to after."

"Assault, my dude, I've been thinking dark thoughts."

Our boots crunched on the pavement over bits of gravel barely visible in the light of Brockton Bay tier streetlights.

"Lay it on me Smokey," Assault gave me a consoling clap on the shoulder. "You know we're always here if you want to talk."

"Am…" my voice quavered. "Am I annoying?"

Assault didn't say anything for a long, telling moment. "Yeah, kinda. But you're not that bad, kinda like a puppy. Not my puppy of course, but you'll grow out of it."

Again with the puppy thing? Well if I annoyed people it was their own fault for having sh*t taste if anything. Wait, was that why Taylor didn't really dig me? Did I annoy her? She didn't have sh*t taste, right, she was into all that gay anime and vidya sh*t I was, right? All those conversations we had in class about them…

We turned a corner.

"Jesus f*cking Christ!" Assault swore under his breath as Krieg came into view, leaning over a plain looking car and saying something to the driver through the window.

Krieg looked over his shoulder at us and did a little jump of surprise, "vell whoever vas on lookout tonight is f*cking fired."

I did Nazi this coming.

"Vell, vell, vell Herr Assault und Smoke Puncher," Krieg said over his shoulder at us. "I must say zis is qvite the unvelcome surprise."

f*cking hell Jimmy, that fake accent needed work. "We can take him," I muttered to Assault. "Your power hard counters his, you can just store all his pressure as kinetic energy and he won't be able to stop you running rings around him especially if I play ranged support."

But Assault apparently didn't hear me despite being literally a foot and a half away.

"What are you doing here, Krieg?"

"Just out for a valk around ze town," Krieg changed position to lean against the car casually. "Nothing that vould concern you, Hero."

"You know he knows he's boned, right?" I muttered again to Assault. "And the guy in the car is just a guy, we've got this in the bag."

"Maybe you should walk on out of here, Krieg."

f*cking hell Ethan! Are you deaf?

"Ja?" Chuckled Krieg. "Maybe it is you who should take the hike vith your new Vard, you know?"

Ah.

"Not gonna ask twice, Krieg," Ethan shifted, a hand reaching to a pouch in his belt. "One button and I can have more backup than you can handle."

"I see where you're going with this," I nodded seriously and Goose Stepped forward into a run at Krieg. Half pace of course. "Jew may as vell call me das Human Holocaust!"

Krieg jerked back in shock as I crossed the distance between us like it was nothing.

"Because I'm gassing all der Juden!"

My breath staggered, muscles weak. This pressure, was this what being waterboarded felt like? Because I felt like I was f*cking drowning on dry land.

I leapt, hand outstretched and billowing smoke. In the moment before Krieg was completely obscured I saw his weight shift for a punch that was going to be more of a shove than anything. I let it hit me, partly because my jump had been sh*t and I couldn't properly dodge and partly because he wasn't trying to hurt me anyway.

-7

I flew a good ten meters, out of the choking pressure, bounced twice along the road-

-14

-3

And managed to spring to my feet as Krieg staggered out of the smoke, coughing and waving his hands in front of his face.

"sh*t! Did he just f*cking gas me?!" he bellowed before remembering his accent. "Scheisse!"

Ethan stood there, completely failing to capitalise on the distraction I just gave him. I realised then that I had read that wrong somehow given how surprised he looked. He didn't look like he appreciated my joke either, and I'd been waiting for three months to use that one.

There was a screech of tires as the car with the dude peeled away from the curb as fast as it possibly could, leaving the smell of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes.

"Get back here you f*ckingFeigling!" Krieg shouted after it. "Some f*cking Dummkopf obviously vants zeir f*cking knees broken!"

"Nowhere to run," Assault stepped forward, suddenly all business.

"Um, ja, I think you'll find zere is," Krieg pulled out a pistol and started backing away. "I can valk away peacefully or you can try somesing and I shoot the funny boy."

My grin threatened to split my face worse than the Mouth of Sauron, "you thought my joke was funny?"

"Ja, call ze Nazi a Jew and gas him," Krieg said loudly, and sarcastically. "Very original."

Then he turned and ran for it. He was fast, but I was faster. I started after him-

"Stop."

I looked over at Assault who was standing there with his arms crossed and, from what I could see of his face, a pinched expression.

"I stuck my neck out for you on this patrol, Smokey, why'd you go and do that?"

"I was causing a distraction, I thought that was where you were going with the backup threat. Give you time to make the call."

Assault rolled his eyes, "recite back to meyourprotocol on engaging with Villainous Parahumans."

A fist of guilt grabbed a handful of my guts and gave them a good twist. "Don't."

Assault hmmm'd meaningfully and held me in his gaze until I looked away.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "I really thought that was what you were going for though."

"Didja, Smokey?"

"I did!" I protested. "I kept telling you we absolutely could have taken him in and I thought you ignoring me was a secret signal!"

Assault sighed and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Well, now you know that when that happens again it's because we're just posturing until the villain leaves because you're not cleared for combat. He and I both knew that, and as much as I hate letting sh*t like that happen sometimes you have to if you've got a civvie or someone else designated as a non-combatant and then it's your fault if they get hurt, so just promise me it won't happen again and we'll try and play it down a bit for Armsmaster."

"…Thanks," I muttered around the grippy guilt fist that had worked its way up my throat.

Ethan snorted, "you're still going to get sh*tcanned for disobeying protocol though. Are you hurt from where Krieg smacked ya?"

I shook my head, "he wasn't even trying, just shoved me. Probably wouldn't have even hurt a non-Brute that bad, I took twenty-four damage and resisted just over three."

"That's good," Assault gave me one last clap on the shoulder. "Now you just cool your heels for a bit while I call this in."

I nodded and trundled away, the incident report he was filing with the PRT listed me, my man, Herr Krieg and only one car driver. Why was Krieg here anyway? This wasn't even really in Empire territory, based on our latest intel anyway. If he was just meeting a dude surely there were better ways to go about it, like doing it away from prying eyes.

I stopped right where the car had been idling and looked around at the dimly lit street. I mean, it wassort ofin a crummy part of Downtown and Krieg usually operated in the nicer parts. Now if it was Hookwolf maybe, but this wasn't really the sort of area you'd run a fight club or dogfighting ring; no space for it. I looked over my shoulder at the buildings and noticed a door slightly ajar.

Now, why would there be an antique shophere?All the other buildings looked kinda officey, and as far as I could tell there wasn't another shop shop on the whole block. Moste peculaire. I sidled up to the shop, casting a glance at Ethan who was still busy with his phone call and idled near the door.

There was a faint ping, one that I recognised as being the alert tone for a popular messenger app; hello due cause!

I let myself inside the antiques shop, it smelt kinda like a firing range in here, and squinted through the gloom at the tell-tale light of a phone resting upside down on a countertop. Score! I moved forward to take it and a shadowy figure I had completely failed my perception check on stepped out of the darkness.

Oh, f*ck! I created an orb of mana, it glowed softly but not enough to illuminate the man. C'mon, brighter, brighter, brighter!

The now visible, above average looking man with dark hair threw up a hand to shield his eyes. "Jesus, thank god you're here but can you turn that sh*t down?"

On checking the spell description, I could, but…

"Nice try."

Viktor reacted like a bullet, pulling off a ludicrously smooth quickdraw and aiming dead between my eyes. f*cking E88 and their guns, couldn't even shell out for a Luger?

"Oi!" I said loudly. "Stop jackin' my sh*t, dude!"

Not that I really needed that one since if I could touch the restraint I could put it in my inventory.

There was a pause before Viktor spoke (in the only accent that mattered, American), during which I identified his hair as a wig. "I'm taking the phone and leaving."

"Fine," I vanished my magic light. "I'm going to go tell Assault you're here."

He didn't reply, merely grabbing the phone and backing away into the back of the shop, keeping his gun trained on my face the whole way. Good thing I knew he wasn't going to hurt me or else that would have been scare as f*ck!

I heard a door opening and closing from out back, which settled that, and I went back outside to Assault.

"Viktor was in there!" I called out as I stepped onto the pavement. "But he left."

Assault looked over at me, rubbed his eyes, and relayed my new info to whoever he was still speaking to on the phone.

"I didn't even engage him," I skipped over to Ethan. "Just let him walk away like you said."

Ethan smiled tightly, nodded, and turned away to continue his phone call.

Nice. Hopefully, this would show Colin Icould, in fact, be trusted to do all the hero sh*t instead of sitting at base and reading over endless lists of criminals and Case53's, crime reports and analytics, 400 level college parahuman textbooks and thesis and so on and on forever.

I was a good Ward.

Armsmaster sat stolidly across from me, once again mimicking his self-signed poster and new Armsmaster Figma, listening to my mission report.

"-and so obviously it was an arms deal." I concluded my masterful deduction.

"It was probably an arms deal," Armsmaster sighed. "Or storehouse. You're benched until next year. No coming in, just sit at home and practice your spells or something; why did I agree to apprentice you instead of washing my hands of this?"

"For glory, Colin!" I literally sparkled. "For glory!"

But really, jokes on him because benching me wasn't even a real punishment. I had so much vidya and sh*tposting to catch up on that all this tiresome extracurricular was eating into something fierce. I mean, maybe I'd miss broing it up at the hospital with Amy but we could probably still hang and stab goblins.

"Your power is wasted on you. You have no idea how much I wish I had it instead, it drives me mad with how little sense it makes. None of my scans have yielded anything. Not a thing. Every other power I've tried to work with can be broken down, adapted, integrated…"

Colin went on with his speech and I kind of just zoned it out. He did this pretty often ever since I signed a non-disclosure agreement for private conversations. Like, did he expect me to care or something? Hearing about other people's problems was just ick. Didn't need any more of those.

Even though my PR training told me to be 'sympathetic with other's ideas and desires'.

Le sigh~

What spell should I try for, I wondered.

Sugoi! Arigato, Questo Giver-san!

"Greg, I'm disappointed with you son," Dad's words lanced my heart like a spear of blackest intent. Never before had he spoken to me in such a way. "Iknowyou're smarter than this, why do you keep disobeying orders on patrols? I know you want to get out there and help people but acting like this is just going to get you stuck doing more boring training."

I said nothing.

"I get it," he continued. "It'ssoexciting, all of it, so new and exciting and fun; but it's a job that comes with a lot of responsibilities. You need to control yourself."

I continued looking at the floor.

"And feeling bad about your mistakes is natural, but you can't let it end there, Greg. You have to do something with that feeling, provide as best a fix as you can to make things right."

I didn't move even as he walked up and hugged me.

"You know I've always believed in you, but this time I want you to promise you'll try to be better."

Hai, Tou-san. Yakusoko suru yo.

30th December, 2010- Rory Christner

The big day was finally here.Finallyhere. The big graduation from Ward to Protectorate even though he had been eighteen for a few months.

The only problem was he'd still have Armsmaster as a boss when the Wards were going to transfer to Piggot, the guy was a hardass douchetard. But oh well.

It wasn't going to be a big affair, his graduation, just hanging out in the Wards commons one last time with the crew and some chips and soda; shoot the sh*t and play some video games.

They had all grown so much during his time here, both height wise and in terms of character. Lately, though Chris had really been coming into it ever since he'd found out his Tinker speciality, speaking and moving with a newfound confidence to match his increasingly impressive gear. One problem with that though; Greg told him.

The boy knew. He knew about the powers in a bottle. He had to have. It was hidden somewhere behind his dumb, doglike smile but sometimes when he looked at you could tell he was reading everything. He hadn't said anything about it, but he knew.

He glanced over at Greg, who was glowing softly and wearing his new Armsmaster Beard while playing Mario Cart, and frowned. So long as he continued to keep his mouth shut it was fine, or else something really bad might happen. But Greg was a smart kid, obscenely so, so he had to have known that too.

And he couldn't talk to him about it either, or else Dad's worried, cryptic warning about if he blabbed would come true.

Best to just keep quiet.

GStringGirl: so you're finally off suspension for gassing krieg and calling him a jew?

XxVoid_CowboyxX: yep, never doing that again
XxVoid_CowboyxX: new year new me

I saw Taylor sending nervously cringing glances over to a group of popular girls, one of whom (Emma) I understood she had a personal feud with. Ok, one more dumb thing, a harmless friendly prank on a bro.

My inhuman dexterity and Sneak skill let me creep up to her with nary a whisper, "Hey Taylor!" I said in Emma's voice.

She whipped around, face white, eyes bugging out.

"Something wrong?" I simpered.

She fainted. Huh. I caught her as she fell and lay her gently in the recovery position.

"The f*ck's wrong with her?" a guy standing nearby said.

I observed her and oh sh*t, did I just accidentally a trigger event? Yepparoo. Spooking her like that was probably not the best thing to do to someone who was undergoing a gaslighting campaign haha. sh*t. In my defense, I hadn't Observed her in months. Lol.

"Blood pressure drop?" I said calmly. "I'll take her to the nurses anyway."

The guy shrugged and went back to talking to his friends as Taylor started stirring awake. She struggled frantically to a sitting position, pallid face glistening with terror sweat, before settling her gaze on me.

"Who thehellare you?" she whispered.

"It's me, Greg. Greg Veder, we've had classes together for a year. We talk about anime in World Studies."

The look she gave me was either non-comprehension or panic. Trigger event would do that I guess, not that I would know since mine must have happened in my sleep or been a delayed reaction to when I was walking up the stairs and when I got to the top step I thought there was another step and had a moment of pure fear as I fell forward for two inches until my foot hit the floor. Or maybe it was so bad I forgot it lol.

I was suddenly hit by a memory of talking about anime and Taylor ignoring me for a solid thirty minutes.

Argh. Second trigger when?

"Anyway, you should probably go lie down for a bit in the nurse's office," I stood up and crossed my arms to draw attention away from my reddening face. Flawless. Playing it cool was my speciality along with playing dumb which is how I could ignore the laughter coming from the popular girls. "Or go home, you don't look like you're doing too good."

And indeed, Taylor was fearfully gawping at everyone around us. No doubt freaked the f*ck out by the fact that she could see their negative emotions.

Her power was pretty cool, reminded me of Dean's a bit, a kinda Thinker/Master type deal. Though Taylors was a fair bit better than his in some respects. Not that her power would ever be cooler than mine, as I had now come to understand even my ability to Observe would have been given a rating of like, seven or eight or something; and that was just with one power boi!

"Come on," I said cheerfully. "Up you get, can't sit around all day now can we?"

She started shakily getting to her feet and I realised that maybe I should have offered to help her up. Meh, next time.

"I'll walk you to the gate, though," I smiled, indicating with my head.

Taylor's eyes narrowed on me, then she whipped around to glare at Emma, then back to me. "I can make it on my own, thanks."

Yeesh, talk about having WIS and CHA nearly as bad as mine if she doesn't even want my help. I was a nice guy, right? Surely her new power told her so unless I was misinterpreting something from its Observe description. Dang, well that's trust issues and depression for you.

I followed her anyway as she stalked away like a jittery spider, "hey, I know what'll cheer you up! What'd you get for Christmas? I got the new Space Opera I was telling you about ages ago, sh*t is dope; like someone mashed G-Gundam and Crusader Kings into a character action game."

I bit back a description of the plot and my thoughts of so she could answer.

"A book."

Succinct.

"That's cool," I said. "Tell me about it next time, if it's fantasy or sci-fi, I need to read more things that aren't textbooks or reports."

She hrrm'ed.

"Unless it's some dumb young adult, supernatural romance novel. That sh*t belongs in the trash and so do the people who read them. On that note, don't read most LN's 'cause they're all sh*t too. The Nips are letting us down, Taylor, never forget that. I used to believe Isekai was the way to the future, but no more. It's a trash genre for plebs, something we would know nothing about."

"It's pronounced 'plebs'," Taylor muttered without looking at me.

Oh. "Well ok."

"Bye," she sped out the front gate without so much as looking at me.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" I called after her. It was a shame she had to miss the first day of school, but it wasn't like we were going to do anything important today anyway.

Or she wasn't, anyway. I turned on my heel and strode with purpose, I'd just had an idea on how to do my homie a solid. I wound my way through the hall and approached the Danger Zone.

"Hey, guys!"

Emma looked at me with an expression like she was looking at walking garbage. Lol, f*ckken bitch amirite.

"I know you guys have been hassling Taylor, but she's having an extra bad time so if you could stop altogether that'd be real based of you."

The gaggle of girls giggled stereotypically, aggravating my betamax genes.

"I don't know what you mean," Emma simpered, proving my mimicry was top f*cking notch. "Has she been saying something? You know she has schizophrenia, right?"

Willikers, what a blatant lie. Being tormented by ABB thugs one time didn't give you licence to be a total bitch, but maybe she just needed a therapist. Sophia certainly had, since what happened to her wasn't grounds to take it out on everyone else. Bummer that I couldn't say anything.

"Naw," I waved a hand airily. "She don't. Well, bye."

And I left them to reconsider their shameful life choices. I was a good friend.

"Hi, Emily!" I smiled as I shut the door to her office behind me and sat down in the chair in front of her desk. "Have a nice Christmas?"

"I did, actually," she sort of smiled back. It wasn't a good look. "Thank you. And yours?"

"It was chill, Armsmaster gave me the whole holiday off training so I could just relax and do magic. God, I love magic."

"That's certainly a change," she said in a super measured tone. "From when you, when last asked to practice your 'spells' you replied 'miss me with that gay wizard sh*t!' and then proceeded to rap with that as the chorus."

I laughed, "I don't do that anymore. Funny though. Still," I held up a finger. "I'm not all about the gay wizard sh*t, I'm still going Mover/Stranger with magic to round out my powerset so I never get caught in a situation I can't solve."

"Clever. I've heard you've been getting on better with the others, it's good to hear you're settling into the Wards, it seemed like you would be a problem when you first walked in my door."

Huuuuuuuh. The blood drained from my face, thank god for masks. Oh, the memory was bad.

"Past me is a retard," I shrugged. "Present me is perfect."

"In comparison, perhaps-"

I pouted, I wasn't that bad.

"But all in all I can see you've made good progress. But I didn't call you in to talk about that, we have a new hopeful for the Wards coming in," Emily steepled her fingers and looked over them at me, waiting for my response.

I raised my hands in surrender, "say no more, I'm in."

Emily raised an eyebrow.

"To be the Human Litmus Test," I elaborated. "I Observe them and tell you if they're new Shadow Stalkers. Good choice, picking me since I also get a CHA bonus when meeting new people."

"Yes," Emily said eventually. "This is also a test for you. After the fumbling of your last patrol I want to see if you can at least behave correctly in a low-stress situation. Especially one requiring social restraint. By all accounts you should be able to make a positive impression, you've certainly had enough PR training, and make our new hopeful feel like the Wards is their best choice; which it is."

"Yeah," I said. "I can do that."

Emily gave me another ZUCC-tier smile.

Voice: on. Smile: on. Charm: on.

"Hey, how're you?" I held out my hand to the new guy, a boy who was only seven months older than me. "I'm Dark Smoke Puncher, Crouching Retard Hidden Badass and newest Ward."

"I'm well, thank you," Brad shook my hand. "Though I can't tell you my name, provisionally I've chosen the moniker Browbeat."

"Coolio, is that meant to be like, a misdirection from what your power does? Or are you really good at berating people?"

Brad's face creased, "a misdirection, I thought it would be funny. How do you know what my power is?"

"That's one of my powers," I grinned sunnily. "Anyway, why're you up for the Wards?"

Brad shrugged, "it seems like the thing to do."

I clicked, "it can be a pretty sweet deal. Sure, minimum wage for a year until it doubles, but that fifty K a year trust fund bro. Finna be rich when I invest mine in cryptos."

"So you're interested in cryptos?" Brad noticeably perked up.

I winked at his Observe bio.

"Perhaps we can discuss this further, sometime," he smiled.

Well this was in the bag, wasn't it? Had Emily given me a f*cking gimmie? Not that I was complaining about free xp, but come on I could handle real quests.

"Absolutely. And if'n you sign up, remember that they can't make you doanything. The system's my bitch if I wanted I could just live like I was before and rake in that government money."

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh," I shrugged. "Eventually I'm going to be in the Triumvirate, but to do that I need to at least try-"

Yeah, you should you lazy fa*ggot.

"-and practice. Do you want to see my Insta-rave spell? I'm magic, btw. It's this sweet combo I made out of Mana Smoke and Light, I don't have a spell that lets me make sound yet but when I do oh boy, sh*t is gonna begreat."

And they run! When the sun comes up, with their lives on the line! Rules of nature!

The wind rushed through my hair as I sprinted up the brick wall of some kind of building. It was so f*cking hard! Hahahahaha! I changed my angle to take across it diagonally, hit the edge and jumped full force over the gap of the road and commando rolled onto another roof. Without losing stride I burst into a sprint again, vaulting over a radiator and landing on a wall in a crouch.

With the power of squats on my side, I jumped, twisting in the air to land feet first on an opposite wall-

-and ping-ponged myself up onto the next tier of rooves.

Why hadn't I just gone and done this before? Roof hopping was so f*cking fun! This was what I was born for. I should totally see if I could sign up for the Cape version of Ninja Warrior, f*ck that would be good. They might even let me do it if I could convince them the PR would be worth it.

I pushed myself forward as hard as I could, countdown timer ticking away in a little blue box in the corner of my eye. It was a simple quest in concept, get from point A to point B, only Armsmaster had me dropped as far away as he possibly could from point B and given me a speedrun time to beat.

I glanced at the quest timer, I wasn't going to make it. I suffused my body with mana, willing it to make me faster, stronger, tougher; but nothing. There was a self-buff spell in there somewhere, but I hadn't been able to do it yet. My legs and arms pumped in unison, a steam engine of meat, breath misting up in the chilly late afternoon. My lungs burned under the strain of holding a full-on sprint for so long, legs matching the pain.

I'd never felt so alive.

And yet…

I slowed to a comfortable thirty kilometres per hour. God f*cking damn it. I jogged down the side of the building I was on and Jaywalked across the road.

"If only I had five more seconds," I groused through panting breaths.

Armsmaster grunted.

"This is why I never had the patience to do game speedruns, I broke a keyboard once. So frustrating. Anyway, what're we here for?"

"We have five minutes before the PRT forensics team gets here, I need you to get in there and ID some heavily mutilated corpses."

Well sh*t.

f*cking sh*t.

What?

"What?" I asked.

"Corpses mutilated beyond recognition," Armsmaster said tersely. "Obviously by a Parahuman, your Observe will speed things up."

"Ok," I think I failed at smiling. "Haha, never seen a dead body before; some real Stand By Me sh*t huh? Haha."

"Let's go."

Armsmaster led the way into the building we were standing in front of, it was dark inside. And quiet. Silent like the grave. He opened another door and as he went through I caught a glimpse inside.

And the smell. I must get out of here.

I turned on my heel and bolted back out onto the street as the gorge rose in my throat. Even the bitter city air seemed sweet in comparison as I gasped it down, wishing I could take off my uniform because suddenly it was just too goddamn hot.

The door opened again behind me. "Fair enough," Armsmaster said. "It was worth a try."

I laughed keeningly, "dude what the f*ck, you said mutilated. I've seen some gore threads, I ain't no bitch nigg*, but that sh*t was real meatgrinder hours. Not even Hookwolf does that."

"Which was why I wanted you here, this is someone new. I've never seen this before, and we have nothing on file," Armsmaster said heavily. "But forget about it, I was wrong to ask you here, we'll have to do the whole Apprentice deal for some other crime."

Yikes, Colin was really sticking his neck out for me for this one, if I ever complained about it he'd get turkey slapped with the long, hard, punitive dick of the law. But I ain't no snitch.

"I can do this," I held up a hand. "I just need a second to get in the zone."

Inhale. Hold… Hold... Hold... Hold… Hale.

"Okay," I put on my Armsmaster Beard. "I'm ready."

Armsmaster smiled tightly and led the way back inside and through the second door, I wasn't ready.

I held my breath and peered into the room. The corpses were, if I could describe it, bulging, bloated sacks that had ruptured violently all over the room. I threw up a bit in my mouth and sucked it back down.

I observed the closest pair of bulging legs, which still had most of the organs spilling out of the stump waist.

I equipped a medical filter mask from my inventory and tested the fetid stench. Bearable.

"Those legs were a guy's called Mark Haversham," I pointed, and then retched a little. How the f*ck did Colin stand this? "Not sure whose foot that is, or that arm, that most of a torso is Dillon Turpin's, that pistol is also Dillon's, and the pools of blood are misc. I'm not getting any more backstory, the bits mightn't be big enough to twig that part of my power."

"Two names without having to wait hours to confirm identities is better than nothing, thank you Dark Smoke Puncher. Have you Observed anything else pertaining to the crime?"

I shook my head rapidly and inched away from the blood pool. "All clear," I squeaked masculinely. "Maybe I should read a Forensic Investigation skill book."

"Perhaps," Colin followed me as I bravely backed out of the building. "Though maybe you shouldn't go to any crime scenes until you graduate, I can clearly see I've made a mistake with this here."

"Nah, it's fine bro," I smiled, my sparkle cosmetic sending my teeth glinting. But it was a weak smile so I covered it up by rubbing at my beard. "It's not a big deal, I can handle big boy crimes."

"My power thinks so too, I just got a quest to solve this with you!"

Armsmaster didn't react verbally, or enthusiastically, but that was just his way.

The screen before me held two graphs, my initial projected STAT and SKILL development and my actual one.

I looked to my left, where Chris was working on the draft for his latest technological marvel. "I'm kind of stupid, huh?"

"Uh," Chris said as though he was trying to be delicate. "Yeah."

I looked Amy in the eyes as she walked into the warehouse and stabbed myself in the arm with a bowie knife.

-10

We both screamed.

"What the f*ck?" Amy hustled over, placing her hand on my arm.

"Flowers for Algernon."

She stared uncomprehendingly.

"My power is Flowers for Algernoning me, only there's no reverse," I yanked my knife out and shooed her healing hand away.

Amy gave me another worried, uncomprehending stare. "What are youdoing?"

"Grinding," I said grimly, retrieving my first aid kit. "Can you turn my pain off? This really hurts."

She watched me fix my arm up with an already bloodied bandage for a few seconds before speaking, "how long have you been at this?"

"A while."

In reality, this was the second stab, it had taken ages to work up the courage after the first one despite the fact that I'd planned to get another point in damage resistance before she got here. And after that, I'd more or less been waiting until she got here.

"Like, I know you heal and it makes you tougher but," Amy frowned. "Whyare you doing this?"

"I should be stronger," I said, putting the bandage back into my inventory. "I should have been doing this all along. Not necessarily stabbing myself, but practising magic or doing pushups while waiting instead of nothing. Justsomething. So much wasted time."

"Are you lazy? I mean, you haven't been in to the hospital in a fortnight you lazy sh*t, but you were there just about every day before and for longer than me sometimes," she tilted her head. "Why did you stop coming?"

"Oh, that," I flushed. "I gassed Krieg and called him a jew so Armsy took me off duty. It was hilarious and you should have been there, but in hindsight, I'm pretty lucky he didn't maul me."

Amy exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Yeah," I grinned. "He was so surprised he even stopped doing his stupid accent. He also said he thought I was funny, but that was while he was threatening to shoot me so I don't think he really meant it."

Amy made a face that could be best described as consternated, "I don't think what's wrong with you is you're lazy."

That… wasn't really something I wanted to dwell on at the moment. "Anyway," I vanished my knife in a puff of smoke. "I'm ready to take another crack at El Ogro."

Amy crossed her arms, "the one that nearly killed you."

"Ayep, but now that I'm an Electrogenic Mage I'll merc it one v one; for realises. I'd show you how but I don't want to ruin the surprise 'cause I justknowyou're going to be so impressed."

Cool.

Amy rubbed at her face, sighing the mother of all sighs.

"You can add this to my tab of favours," I smiled. "Which must be getting pretty big by now."

She rolled her eyes, "fine, but if this goes bad again I'm for sure quitting."

I watched as she transmogrified the hibernating lump of meat, that now was at least twice as big as me, into El Ogro. All this morning I'd been having a funny feeling that having Amy make living creatures for me to kill for sport was actually fairly morally wrong; even though I knew they felt no pain and had no higher level brain function.

I needed to ask GStringGirl about this, she always knew what to say.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: have yuo ever seen a dead body?

Soon the ogre stood before me in all its two meter, bear mode glory, crushing grip and sturdy conditions in its stat block.

"Last chance to not get almost murdered again," Amy said warningly.

I just smiled and shook my head, readying a mana knife.

Amy's eyebrows furrowed, but she slowly removed her hand from the ogre's arm as it shook itself into consciousness for the first time. It eyed me down, processing the trigger scent marking me as a target, then barrelled towards me.

But this was my swamp.

I stayed where I was, reading its trajectory, body loose and ready. As its hands came up so did mine, my fingers grazing its skin.

I cast Shocking Grasp with my left hand and the ogre froze, then with my right I machine gun stabbed it forty-seven times in the neck.

"I mean," I said as I wiped blood splatter off my face, neatly stepping to the side to avoid El Ogro's collapsing corpse. "I could have done it without the magic, but I really just wanted to show off."

Amy said nothing, mouth shut in a tight crease.

I nodded sympathetically, the both of us standing there contemplating the fleeting nature of strength. Not my strength, obviously, but others in the endless power level wank that was my life now.

"Honestly though," I continued. "I'm a bit over killing, what do you want to make?"

Amy shrugged.

"Because I'm gonna try to make a new stealth spell, I feel like I haven't quite done enough about the ninja part of my gig. Also, I have a new lesbo story recommendation, you ever heard of Prinsessan Kristalla? I know, why don't you make yourself a pet to spec, like a really smart and cute cat or something. I'm going to go over there behind those crates and do magic."

I skedaddled the f*ck out of there and hid behind the crates, had Amy seen my hands shaking? f*ck. It wasn't even the smell this time.

Put it all into the inventory; out of sight out of mind.

Inhale.

Ok.

Today was a good day. That quest was good. I was chillaxing with my homie. I would level up soon. Ignore and forget, I was good at that!

Hale.

Time for magic.

I'd already been mulling over this one for a while, as a kind of stepping stone to creating Henshin no Jutsu, which would still be useful in some situations hopefully. Conceptually it was a very simple extension of my ability to change the colour of my mana, using it to blend into the background. The hard part would be getting the right gradient of colours instead of making a solid colour cloud.

I'd already given it a bit of a go, and I could tell it was just going to be endless trial and error.

I crept forward, slowly, silently, an afterthought to the visible world. The smudge on your glasses, the mirage on the desert sand.

Amy sat on a folding chair, munching on some of the many snacks provided from my inventory; a ploy to keep her distracted. An undulating blob of meat occasionally sprouting fur, or ears, or eyes, sat in her upturned palm.

I tiptoed in from the side, five meters away. Four. Two. One last sidle in and I dropped Chameleon Haze.

"HeyAmyyouwannaseemynewspell!"

She turned and screamed in my face so hard her voice cracked and fell off her chair.

-1

"Damn you just got pranked, bro!" I laughed at her. "Have you ever thought of making a live scarf that reacts to minute changes in local air pressure?"

"You f*cking c*nt that wasn't funny!"

I begged to differ.

"Stop giving me that stupid grin," she hissed, picking herself up and dusting off her jeans. "Stop it, you're the worst!"

I smiled wider and cast Chameleon Haze and Amy made the kind of expression you make when you've been staring at a screen for too long without blinking but you don't want to blink because the live stream you're watching is too good to miss a second of.

"I can still see you," she said. "Not a very good ability."

"Spell, Amy, it's a spell. And only on level one out of probably a hundred," I skipped around her, showing off the Haze's ability to adapt to new backgrounds on the fly. I hadn't actually done that bit myself, but my power always seemed to autocomplete my spells based on my intent.

God, I loved my power, I couldn't imagine how lame I'd be if I had to do magic manually.

"Anyway," I dropped it. "What did you end up doing?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I did design a cat, the cutest cat you've ever seen, but I dunno if I actually want a pet. I guess I could make it go into hibernation until I feel like taking care of it again, but I'm probably too busy to have it around."

I nodded, the same was true for me. "Why don't you make some drugs then?"

Amy looked at me askance.

"Yeah, like some turbo weed to even out your perpetual bad mood. One that is both a relaxer and a nootropic. You could even make some absolutelysickpsychedelics, it wouldn't even be illegal!" I realised this as I spoke. "It has to be a known substance to be restricted, yours would be entirely new! You have so much untapped potential in just things to make yourselfbetter! If you want to keep pace with me you better hop to it!"

As Amy bit at her thumbnail, I could see I had convinced her, which was nice. That bitch needed to chill something fierce so she'd stop calling me a c*nt all the time, like that made her edgy or whatever. Also to increaseherhappiness, but that was just a happy side effect.

GStringGirl: yeah, I have

Well, that explained why it took her a whole week to message me back. Yikes.

A new message popped up in my inbox.

GStringGirl: it wasn't my fault. My body just moved on its own

Those were the last words of Sasuke in Menma, when he died on the bridge. I hoped she was just memeing on me. I hoped she had just been away on holiday without internet or grounded by her strict mum. Or that she really was a forty-year-old neckbeard catfishing me.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: when I was working with Armsmaster, there were these two guys in a room. Everywhere in the room.
XxVoid_CowboyxX: how did you handle it?

"Dark Smoke! Sorry I'm a bit late, I had to file my monthly progression report."

I looked up to see Geromy striding toward me, waving his deactivated Arclance.

"I'm sure y'know what that's like, eh?" he smiled. "Your spreadsheet must be huge."

I stood up, inventorying my phone. The joke was on him, my huge INT made sh*t like that turbo easy. Plus the DEX, my WPM was insane and coupled with the fact that I didn't have to look at the keyboard and knew every command shortcut made menial work like that a breeze.

Maybe I should get back into coding, I'd be an absolute beast of a coder.

"I hope you're ready," I returned his smile. "To receive a violent lesson in pain!"

He chuckled, "yeah, I've been looking forward to this too. We don't have any villains in the city that match your power profile, but it's always good to get practice in prep for that cra- stuff, never know when one might turn up."

We stepped up unto the mat and started warming up. As part of both our ongoing power testing and general combat practice we were going to spar while Armsmaster recorded it, and the presumably secretly upload it to his prediction software so when we fought at the end of March (ninety-six more days) he could beat me up.

Which was why I'd need an ace in the hole, a spell I'd keep secret until that day, like opening my forbidden chakra gates or something.

"Ready?" I asked.

Geromy took one last deep breath and nodded, shaping up into a textbook boxing stance. It was a good thing we'd be using powers next because at this point I could just manhandle him like a child, not to say the guy wasn't good but he was just a normal fit dude without a stat over twenty.

So after me playing around for a few minutes as he worked up a sweat we took a break so he could get his armour on.

Then, with a completely straight face, he activated his gear, sparks spitting from the pulse of his expanding shield as he spun his extending Arclance around in a practised pattern as though that were theatrics.

He was like a little baby.

I stepped forward into smoke, casting Light on my hero uniform as I equipped it, then with my next step, I pushed it all behind me save for some dark grey patches of clinging smog that slowly faded away as my golden Light dimmed.

The JoJo poses were for special occasions, I had learned now that understated was the new hotness; flash was saved.

Dauntless did this little silent, affected laugh out of jealousy because I was cooler than him. Whatever.

I moved in, creating as blunt a knife as I could, and Dauntless mirrored my steps cutting me off and proving that once again I needed a ranged option. Zeus bolts or whatever? sh*t would be tite.

Eventually, we got within hitting distance and Geromy jabbed at me with his Arclance, probing my defence. My Armsmastery let me read his attack well before he would have landed it and I was already stepping around it into range to deliver my own attack. But since this was still the warmup I hit slow enough that he could actually block it with his shield like a normal person. I was interested to see how this played out when we cranked it up since I was pretty sure he powermogged me pretty hard what with his being able to fly and bubble shield.

But he had like a whole year and a half on me. I might even catch up in another year and a half, who knew what I'd be then. Level twenty-five at least, DEX at like a hundred twenty, spelled to the gills; untouchable.

Dauntless swung at me in a tight arc, I ducked beneath the crackling spear and Initial Lotus kicked him under the chin, sending him staggering.

In response he flashed his shield bubble, knocking me off balance enough that for the first time in weeks I stumbled. This was kind of the problem with this kind of spar, Geromy had a shield and I had no shield cracker spells so the only reason I could get in and kick him in the first place was if we were going easy.

He pushed his advantage, skating across the ground on trails of burning energy, shield out in front like a cowcatcher. I jumped, aiming to land one foot on the rim of his shield and the other on his face; but Geromy was wise to my tricks. His shield bubbled out again, pushing me. I cast Mana Adhesion.

"Wahey!" my feet stuck to the bubble and I heard Geromy laugh as he started to skate in circles to throw me off as little arcs lifted off the bubble and ran over my legs with sharp ZAKs.

-1

f*cking ouch.

-1

I slapped the shield with a Shocking Grasp to unsurprisingly little effect.

-1

-1

Ow!

f*ck this gay sh*t. I vaulted backwards off the bubble and onto the mat, taking off at a moderate run ahead of a pursuing Geromy. I burnt a few mana points, smoked the area in front of me as I ran through and jumped as soon as I felt it breached, backflipping over Geromy as he skated through under me, shield eating a hole through my smoke.

I pulled enough back in to fill the tunnel and hazed myself, blending into the slowly dispersing cloud. I would have held the smoke in place and used the distortion to amplify my haze's effect, but I couldn't dual cast for sh*t.

Geromy lifted up into the air like a cheating bitch the second he realised he couldn't see me and slowly made a figure eight around the room as he scanned for my presence.

I threw a knife but it bounced off his greaves and he bubbled up again.

"You cheating bitch!" I shouted, smoking the room. Even if I made a ramp, or ran up the wall, I couldn't crack that shield; and he could keep it on indefinitely. f*cking sh*tty mana regen. And fixing that problem would only make things worse.

I didn't think I could take much more WIS.

Geromy laughed an evil laugh, Arclance striking out like a snake into the smoke where he thought I was, lol the idiot didn't know 'bout my Ventriloquism. Now to set the bait.

"Get over here!" I shouted, throwing my voice and stepping into a thicker patch of smoke to let my haze drop so I could create a spike of mana and throw that.

I was already hazed and moving as the spike pinged off the back of Dauntless's bubble. He turned on the spot in the air and my next spike hit him from behind again. In an actual fight he could sit up there all day behind his shield and take potshots until I made a mistake, but for now, he was game enough to get kited down to a manageable height.

I took a running jump and closed my trap, a ball of solid mana, around his bubble shield. I brought up its Observe window and clicked my tongue as I fed more and more mana into the construct as fast as his shield ate it away, the durability counter ticking up and down.

"Yeah, bitch!" I hammered on the dark blue ball. "Trapped ya!"

Geromy just laughed again, "f*ck off, Smokey."

With a sound like breaking eggshells, his Arclance pierced through my orb, right next to my face, then retracted. f*ck. I Spiderman scuttled around to the other side as my orb took big spikes of damage from his lance. I crawled back on top, repaired it, then backward cartwheeled underneath.

This position was untenable. While this would be a very viable strat against a lot of parahumans and unpowered humans it was eating up my mana like crazy just trying to keep him trapped, plus the expenditure from Mana Adhesion put me at a hundred and seventy-eight MP. Not worth it.

I dropped to the mats in the remnants of my fading smoke and jogged backwards as big cracks split the surface of Geromy's cage before the whole thing burst into disappearing blue glitter.

Dauntless span around to face me and slowly floated down to the ground, bubble retracting back into his buckler.

"That," he said. "Was a very good try. Honestly, it was, if'n this were real you had me in there for a good thirty seconds; that's extra time for your backup to get here or whatever your plan is."

I exhaled a massive sigh, "I'm down to a third power though, I couldn't have gone much longer." A thought hit me, a wonderful happy thought that brought my smile back up to full force. "But give it six months, and I'll beat you fair and square."

"You'd better pencil that in for June tenth," I said smugly. "Because it's a quest."

Geromy shook his head and smile wearily, "boy, I wish you'd come with an off switch."

I shot him some finger guns, "now can you whack at me with your lance? I have an idea for a new spell."

He shrugged and advanced on me, lifting his lance. The look on his face was priceless when I started spinning in place.

"Spin to win!" I barked. "Hit me! Spin to win!"

His face creased into something nearing pity, but he acquiesced my request.

I poured out mana, covering myself in a quick clockwise burst.

-1

"Again."

-1

"Again."

-1

"Again."

Finally. That had taken a bit of doing, long enough that Geromy had somewhere else to be while I regened mana and-

My work phone beeped. I sighed and crossed the room to pick it up… frack.

Bromaster: Meet me in the lobby, we're going to the morgue so you can Observe another corpse mutilated the same way as the prior crime scene.

Iyada.

"Bill Wilson, he was Coil's mole in the E Eighty-Eight and he was caught out, can I go now?"

Yes, thank you power. dickhe*d. You're a f*cking dickhe*d.

"Yes," Armsmaster sort of shuffled in place. "Dismissed."

dickhe*d.

"How's your, uh, singing career going?"

Eh? Nani? Nandato?

I turned to look at Taylor, since when did she start conversations? "My singing career?"

I remembered of course, right here in this very classroom some three months ago I expressed my desire to become idoru but I never expected her to remember one of the many inane things that spewed out of my mouth on any given day let alone make reference to it.

"Yeah, you don't sound so lame anymore so I guess you've actually been working on your elocution."

"I don't have Evocation powers," I snapped. "Who told you?"

Triumph flashed in Taylor's eyes like she'd tricked me into spilling some kind of devastating secret instead of nonsense.

"No, no,elocution. Your voice. It's crazy different to last year, you must havereallybeen putting in the practice."

I lit up like a new years firework. "I have! I practice literally every day, I'm even practising right now! I could easily be the best seiyuu in the world by now." I licked my lips, switching to my 'Little Boy Lost In The Mall But He Really Wants To Get To Gamestop' voice. "No tricks, no gimmicks. Sorry if it made you freak out the other week when I said hi in a girl's voice and then you fainted; I thought it would be funny."

Her jaw clenched, hand tightening to a clawed fist around her pencil and she made yandere eyes at me; it wasn't a good look on her.

"Yeah," I continued like she wasn't contemplating John Wicking me. "You've been all tense lately, so I thought a lil' prank would make you laugh."

A bead of sweat ran down her temple. I guess I understood. Everything I had read about it said that a trigger was the worst and most important day of your life. But for me? It was Tuesday. We both sat there contemplating the subjective and personal nature of terror. Or I was anyway, Taylor just looked like she might cry.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way though, we're friends, it was meant to be haha funny," I shrugged. "I guess I underestimated how much you hate Emma."

In that moment I could see it behind her eyes. Everything came tumbling down, but she didn't cry. Her expression curdled like concrete and I started to get this weird feeling of trepidation, a kind of frisson in my guts and I averted my gaze because wow this schoolwork had suddenly become so interesting, y'know?

"And what else have you been practising?" the question an icicle from her mouth. "Been going to the gym with Big Cal again?"

"I'm just getting fat, that's probably why he keeps asking."

sh*t, she'd noticed my Jostar tier frame despite my best efforts to wear a five times extra large hoodie everywhere, that sh*t draped over me like a poncho. What else had she noticed? Suddenly I was keenly aware of my inhuman balance and grace, I knew that I looked awesome just walking around on camera but for some reason, I just hadn't considered how that would look at school; anyone paying attention for more than a second would notice.

My vision started to flicker around the edges like vignetting in blood that crept out of view when I tried to concentrate on it, the colour deepening with the creeping sense of unease.

Taylor's power.

I met her eyes again. She was smiling but it wasn't happy.

And the smell.

I could see it. I could see death, wagging its finger at me.

Taylor started to bloat, her swelling neck pushing her head all the way to the side, blood vessels bursting and that was enough for me.

I fled the room.

"You've been quiet lately, Greggy. Finally calmed down since getting powers?"

I looked up at mum from where I was slowly stirring my ice cream into a choc-mint paste. "Huh?"

"Quieter," she reiterated. "This past week, like how you were a few months ago."

I was back to acting like how I used to? "I hadn't noticed."

"Well I have," she clicked. "I've also noticed you've been rubbing your nose, have you been doing co*ke?"

"Every day."

Mum nodded sagely, "make sure to Inventory some from gang stashes while you're at work, there's a lifehack for you for free."

I gave a little chuckle, standing up. "Thanks, mum, I'm gonna go eat this in my room and do some magic-"

"Can you cast Magic Missile yet? You promised me you would!"

I frowned and licked my spoon, "I'm pretty sure I said MM was overplayed and trite, I'm an artiste not a haque."

She clicked her tongue, "elitist."

I turned my nose up and left without dignifying that with a response, to which mum booed me out of the room.

The ice cream slid down my throat without me really tasting it, I couldn't even blame Armsmaster for this; it was all my fault I should have backed out. I sighed, using my foot to shut my door behind me, this sulking wouldn't do me any good. I opened the music folder on my desktop and double clicked animemusictrapremix2010.wav, yeah, some pumpin' phat beatz to get me in the mood.

I already had a plan for what I was trying for, the two spells should tie into each other as they were kinda the same thing. Conceptually there was no difference between a shell of mana acting as a disguise and a shell of mana acting as a doppelganger; all that changed was I was inside one. My skill with Mana Object was good enough at this point that I could get a human to look right without dipping into the uncanny valley, and with my power smoothing things out I expected it all to go off without a hitch.

Making a copy felt like it would be the easier starting point though.

I held my ice cream in my left hand and held my right out in front of me, tendrils of mana snaking from my palm and coalescing before me, into me.

I sniffed and ate a spoonful of ice cream, I looked kinda waxy but otherwise, my me was pretty good despite not being a workable clone. I pushed it over and it thudded onto the carpet, sending up a little cloud of dust. Work, damn you. I sighed and stood it back up, maybe the problem was that it was way too light on account of being an empty shell. I vanished it and tried again, this time taking my time to make sure it was solid.

Same outcome, but more durability. I think my problem was I was still in the mindset of making knives, my would be clones came out as statues because the mana I was making them out of was rigid. Time to try make 'em out of rubber, how would that happen yohoho.

One melted bowl of ice cream and thirty painstaking minutes later I figured out the trick to making a bendy stick.

And now to go even further beyond and incorporate the ideas I'd had while practising. My First Aid skill gave me a decent schematic of the major areas a human body was supposed to flex and bend, so using that I would first make the 'skeleton' out of my hard mana and attach it together to simulate articulating joints. Then I would wrap it in a layer of increasingly rubbery mana so that the joints could bend and it would feel fleshy before finally doing the skin, hair and clothes.

I frowned.

"Excuse me," I said to the patient whose booboo I was tending to. "I have to go send an important text."

"Oh, ok," they smiled. "Thanks for patching me up, Dark Smoke Puncher."

I gave them a thumbs up and scarpered out of the lobby, retrieving my work phone from my pocket.

You: Hey Armsmaster, remember when I gassed Krieg and called him a jew? I just realised I never said his real name is James Fliescher and he works at Medhall (probably e88 ties) and Viktor's name is Steve Moran. Just thought you ought to know

There, problem solved. I'd report the quest tomorrow, I was done for today, time to go wait for Amy so we could be edgy rebels and smoke cigarettes on top of the hospital. I got out my other phone and checked my PHO messages as I made my way through the building. Oh, one from GSG.

GStringGirl: stop being such a stingy fa*ggot and give me all your items if you're not going to play PROT anymore

xXVoid_CowboyXx: Well f*ck you, I was just taking a break, we can't all be neets who play ten hours a day

Honestly, the nerve of that bitch. Did she even know how rare my armour set was? f*ck outta here with that e-begging sh*t, no nigg* ever got rich giving charity. Hell naw.

I skipped up the last flight of stairs, taking them five at a time, and unlocked the rooftop door with my very own personal key I got because the hospital director trusted me with it after I complained to him that Amy got one and I didn't.

I stepped out onto the roof, relishing in the fresh night air after the stale, sterile tripe the hospital tried to pass off as breathable. Good, Amy wasn't here yet so all I had to do was transform into Glory Girl-

I thought about Taylor. She hadn't done anything or spoken to me since, but maybe I shouldn't use my powers to play tricks on my friends. No matter how funny it would be for me, they mightn't like it. And that would be bad for me because Amy could do worse than give me the horror show.

But that didn't mean I couldn't show them my transformations into obscure creepypasta monsters, I'd just have to warn them first.

Good job me, lesson learned.

There was less of a sudden surge of tainted enlightenment like there was with WIS. Ok, cool, CHA is good. I can work with CHA. Not that I had to trust CHA, I certainly didn't trust WIS; how the f*ck would a power know what was wise? Ninety-nine percent of parahumans were hair-trigger f*cktards, but ninety-nine percent of parahumans I'd Observed also hadlowWIS. It was all very confusing, maybe when I finished my There Is No Spoon quest I'd get some answers but I wasn't f*cking rushing that one, I didn't want to get merced by Cauldron.

Though their very existence did provide some interesting quandaries. Either they were the source of powers, were connected somehow to it or knew someone who could create powers wholesale without needing to induce a trigger event in a person. I would very much like to Observe some of their agents just to see what was up with this sh*t. And if they were the source of powers I'd be very interested in asking what the f*ck was up with mine, everyone had accepted it as being weird as f*ck, but within the frame of parahumanity. I wasn't so sure. I'd pored over records of known Trumps, and none of them were like me. I'm sure if they experienced the qualia of my powers they'd understand, but I had no way to share it.

My work phone buzzed.

Bromaster: Thank you.

Neato, the guy was such a bro. I mean, sure it really steamed his hams that Geromy and I would surpass him one day but he didn't let it get him down. Where would I be without him? In Coil's Fiddle Basem*nt having hobos beat me with rusty pipes for physical resist levels? Pretty f*cking gay.

Maybe I should feel bad for Sarah? Meh, I already told the PRT she was threatened; ain't my problem no more.

The door behind me opened, breaking me out of my reverie. Game time.

I cast Light, each casting producing a column of light at an upward angle in front of me.

"I've been expecting you," I intoned, glancing over my shoulder at Amy.

"We always meet here," she chuckled warmly and not sarcastically. "Hey, Greg."

Summin ain't right.

I Observed her.

Oh my f*ck.

She did.

"Which is why I've been expecting you," I continued. This was just too precious.

Amy gave me a Zen sort of smile, the sort of smile that comes with making a nootropic turbo weed and then getting blazed as f*ck to get you through a job you hate.

"You're in a good mood," my grin stretched my face in a hideous, Joker-like rictus. "You just finish cranking one out to your sister?"

"Oh f*ck off, c*nt," she said without any heat. "I know you know. And I'll have you know it was a really good idea, thanks."

I could feel myself going pink, Stoner Amy was so f*cking kawaii. And nice! Gone was the unpalatable Tsun, and in its place, a likeable Dere grew. Kyaa!

"You're welcome," I giggled. "Make anything else interesting?"

"A kind of like… a venus fly trap with a ridiculous oxygen conversion rate and its pollen has a calming effect," she sighed dreamily. "I've never slept better."

This was unironically great, usually, she was such a high strung bitch; and people said drugs were bad! Drugs solved everything!

"So when do I get a slice of the pie? I wanna be cool and do untested tinker drugs too!"

"Trust me, I've done extensive testing."

I giggled again, "can they even cure my crippling depression?"

Her smile faltered slightly, "yeah, maybe I guess. I haven't tested that."

"I say that because when you move out next year I can help you sort through all the bullsh*t laws the government uses to keep us hardworking would be Rogues shackled, and you can live like a king off that alone," I smiled. "And then, then you'll be so rich that grotesque deviancy will be expected and you can marry your sister and no one will bat an eye."

Amy sighed, "you're so god damn stupid. This is why you have no friends."

Chigau!

"You're my friend."

She made a fifty/fifty gesture.

Ok, so f*cking what if Taylor wants to give me the spooks, and the guys in the Wards don't talk to me all that much, and no one at school wants to talk to me. I was going to be Triumvirate. Then everyone would look up to me, and they'dhaveto respect me. I'd be somebody. And when I was at the top I'd look down into the gutter, brimming with everyone who'd talked sh*t and they'd cry, 'be my friend.'

And I'd whisper, 'ok.'

"Need I remind you, pantaloon, you also have no friends. Due to being a grouchy bitch."

She shrugged. "And here's the difference between you and me, Greg, I like it that way."

That had to be a f*ckin' lie, it just had to be. I cancelled my Lights, sneering like Mouthoil, "whatever, fa*ggot."

Amy shrugged again, proving that her Tsun had merely taken on a different form. Did I know no nice girls? Even GStingGirl was probably a dude, no chick called themselves that unless they were camming or something.

It was just all so tiresome.

"Anyway," she said with a little yawn. "You got a light? I forgot mine and we'd better make this smoke quick 'cause Vicky's gonna be here in about ten minutes."

I snorted and reached over to light her up with a spark of lightning from my fingers. I didn't even need to give her one of my many lighters, they stacked in my inventory and I had yet to find a capacity to the thing. It was pretty cool, even if what I could put into it was kind of arbitrary.

"So I've been thinking of making a catchphrase," I said as she inhaled. "For like branding and sh*t. What do you think of, 'the capture of this criminal has been sponsored by the Wards ENE'? Not just for that though, it could be anything 'has been sponsored by the etc.'"

"It's not very punchy, and catchphrases are f*cking lame anyway. Who has one besides, like, Mouse Protector? And she does it ironically, that's her whole shtick."

"You're no fun," I lit the cigarette Amy handed me with another spark. It stank and tasted awful as always, but resist exp. "Being a hero should be fun, everyone is so f*ckingdourabout it. Even Vista is so try hard it's not even cute. Clocks kinda gets it, but he won't even do the Handshake Freeze Prank, like…"

I concentrated for a moment before spawning a clone that began to gracelessly Hambone.

"I can do sh*t like that super easy, and it's hilarious, but I've never seen a protectorate hero do anything like that and f*cking believe me I've had to sit through so many recordings of 'successful PR events' and at best they crack the most toothless jokes I've ever heard. Now that's lame."

"Whatever," said Amy dismissively even though she was way too high to stop herself from grinning. "It's not as funny as you think."

I vanished the clone into smoke, "it's all so tiresome."

"Preaching to the choir there, Greg," Amy sighed a plume and rubbed at her freckly forehead. "Preaching to the god-damn choir."

I put my cigarette out on my arm with a strained wince, a measly few percent in resist poison wasn't worth the sh*tty taste. I didn't know how Amy kept it up.

By the time Glory Girl, aka Victoria Dallon, touched down on the roof Amy and I were both sitting down and throwing mana pebbles at a clone that Hamboned for our amusem*nt. Her laughter echoed down to us, she had a really nice laugh. God, she was hot. I normally wasn't a jealous guy but f*ck you Dean you lucky motherf*cker. Maybe I could make a clone that looked like her? Hmm…

I grinned as her aura washed over us and put my <<Armsminor>> title on, "Amy and Dean would have told you all about me of course, but I'm Dark Smoke Puncher, it's nice to meet you."

She gave another tinkling laugh, "yeah, I've heard some stuff."

No doubt about how I was a stupid f*cktard or whatever gay distorted 'facts' had been passed on.

I shot a glance at Amy, "I bet. Are you guys in a rush or do you want to throw some stones?" I gestured to my still Hamboning clone and lobbed one into its forehead.

"Um, I mean I want to go," she turned to look at my dancing clone, the movement showing off her sweater puppies. "But what's with this thing?"

"That's my clone, it dances," I shrugged. "That's its only programmed function."

"Neat."

It was neat.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" A stream of mana pebbles burst from my hand and clattered over the roof. Please. Please stay and sit next to me.

She did that kinda shifty but polite thing with her eyes, "maybe some other time, but Amy and I are supposed to be back ASAP."

Oh.

"Oh. Ok."

Victoria smiled charmingly as Amy got up, brushed herself off and let herself get picked up; back squished against The Chest.

God, I wish that were me.

"Bye then," I said. "See you tomorrow Amy."

"Yeah, see you Greaa Smoke Puncher," Amy covered her mouth. "Well, bye."

I waved and they left.

As the aura left me I figured I probably shouldn't start a love square, Menma wouldn't screw his friends over like that.

Fugg.

I hummed the tune of Delusion Express, which was the best Snake OP in my opinion, as I strode near soundlessly beside Armsmaster's armoured jackboot crunch. The other Wards barely ever got to patrol with Colin, but I as his apprentice got access to his considerably valuable time, and he always got the most exciting routes; we even stopped a robbery once! That had been awesome, the call came in on his police scanner and I got to spook them with smoke while he just walked up and they surrendered.

He was just so gosh darn cool, and one day I would be even cooler. Maybe on the day I won our fight. I had just over a month and I think I really had a chance, even though I was dead sure he was doing everything in his power to win. His Power Armor only gave him forty fives in STR, DEX and VIT so while he'd be physically stronger I would be faster.

Plus I was so close to developing physical buff spells and maybe I would just conveniently forget to report them before our fight. I would also conveniently forget to tell him I was developing a change in electricity mana that would allow me to create abilities with enhanced piercing type damage because I'd already figured out how to run paralysis through my knives and it would be hilarious to see his face when I cut his Anti-Greg halberd in half.

"Look, while I agree that sounds like an interesting premise the Protectorate cartoon is rated E and I don't have any editorial say so over the content."

"Yeah," I said. "But you're Armsmaster, surely if you shot them an email and said you had some ideas for an episode they'd bite."

"They might," he agreed. "If my ideas were acceptable to be watched by small children, which with you as the hypothetical ghostwriter they would not be."

I clicked my teeth together a few times, "yeah. This would have to be MA at least, but really, is cosmic horror really such an abstract concept for kids to grasp? Even if it couldn't be aired I think they'd like it."

Armsmaster grunted, "I know enough about focus group trends to say that they would, in fact, not like it. I don't even like your version, good premise bad plot."

Whatever Colin, like you'd know a good f*ckin' plot if it sounded your halberd in front of you, you-

"Guten Abend, Gentlemen!" said a masked man brightly, stepping out from inside a car. I Observed-

Turned and tackle grabbed Armsmaster, hefting him into a fireman's carry and sprinting as fast as I could in the opposite direction. God, he was so f*cking heavy. I pitched him off my shoulder and whipped around to stand at his side, facing the man who was still getting out of his car.

"Explain."

It took a second for me to realise Armsmaster wasn't accusing me of something.

"Gesellschaft," I said, voice quavering. "Shaker, fifteen meters; seven. Blaster, bolts; seven. Godfrey Mayer, goes by Cymatic."

It was him, the Exploding Man.

"So he vas right," the man slammed the door hard enough to rock his Volkswagen Beetle. "You're the little rat who's been sniffing out my good friend's Empire."

"Distance priority?" Armsmaster whispered through gritted teeth.

"Maximum. Automatic defence, triggered by ill intent. Exploding man quest."

Armsmaster cleared his throat. "Neither the Protectorate, PRT or any of its affiliates were responsible for the leaking of the identities of James Fliescher or Steve Moran."

Cymatic scoffed, gesturing to me. "You'll forgive me if that is maybe not quite believable, given his little spiel after seeing me for only one second."

He stepped forward.

We stepped back.

"I rather think the boy got too ahead of himself and let slip," Cymatic continued as we mirrored each other's steps. "And for the trouble it's caused my good friend, and the trouble it will continue to cause?"

I understood the threat left hanging. But, I could beat him at his own game.

I dry swallowed and stopped backing away.

"You must be pretty uh, dumb and idiot to challenge me," I took a wobbly step forward.

"Smoke!" hissed Colin.

I turned to give him my bravest smile, "I'm not scared of him, and he's practically harmless. He might even be a nice dude, he looks like the kind of guy who appreciates Moe."

"Stop!" Colin barked. "Dark Smoke Puncher, stop!"

"It's fine," my breathing became haggard as I walked toward the source of my nightmares, the only thing stopping me from becoming one with them in a pile of blended entrails was my absolute terror. "He can't kill me if I won't attack him."

I reached out with a hand wracked with tremors as Cymatic stopped in his tracks, shock colouring his posture as he realised what I knew. As my fingers made the barest contact with his shoulder he jerked back, and I could see his eyes widen behind his cymatic patterned mask and it was obvious he was not expecting this.

He back peddled, lifting his hand up and aiming his palm at me. A deluge of sweat soaked my leathery uniform as I kept a close eye on his Observe window, waiting for his Wave Motion Aura condition to switch to Wave Motion Cannon; that tiny window of opportunity would mean I would get the chance to attack before he turned me into pâté. Not that I wanted to attack him, that would be absurd.

If my power was to just read names, no doubt his plan would have worked, we would have stayed in close quarters and been pulped the moment we thought about arresting him, thank god for the schmuck who gave him false info.

Cymatic's eyes hardened and his status changed, I lunged in batting away his now glowing hand, fist reaching out to clean his clock at Mach speed-

-26

My ears rang as I bounced off the road and helicopter kicked myself back onto my feet. I looked around wildly, hands up in guard, but I couldn't see what had hit me.

"Fall back!" Armsmaster barked and I retreated to his side. "You can't keep doing this," he growled. "Twice now is unacceptable. Smoke the area, we're retreating."

-17

I bounced face first off the road as something slammed into my back, and again I whirled to my feet. I felt cold tears run down my face as I rotated my head like an owl; trying desperately to catch a glimpse of what hit me through cracked visor.

"Ve can't have you leaving just yet," Cymatic snarled. "You know decidedly far too much."

It couldn't have been Cymatic, nothing in his power set let him do this, it felt like I was being struck by an actual person.

"In five minutes our whole roster is going to come down on your head," Armsmaster levelled his halberd defiantly. "Walk away."

Cymatic muttered something about fine messes before raising his voice, "and waste our only chance at destroying this menace? You'll put him away after this, somewhere where he can ruin more lives and expose secrets. You vere already on our trail, this needs to end now."

I cast Smoke, but the second it began to leave me I was struck again from behind and ok, plan.

I totally pretended to burst into tears as I crawled to my feet, hands coming up again shedding mystical vapours. Then I Shielded.

Something crunched into my spinning shield the millisecond after it burst into being around me, a dark shape standing out starkly against the brilliant blue, and was flung across the road. As my shield ran its course I managed to get an Observe on the man-shaped thing before it vanished again; taking the Observe window with it.

Some guy called Hans, apparently.

Cymatic snarled and fired a glowing green, patterned bolt at me which I barely managed to jinker out of the way before it turned the asphalt behind me into pulp.

"You should have walked away," Armsmaster growled, tightening his grip on his halberd as the axe blade morphed into a wickedly barbed spike.

There was a moment, just before he fired, where Hans appeared and crashed into the halberd skewing Colin's aim. The harpoon and wire lashed out into the Volkswagon, puncturing a hole through the windshield before retracting smoothly into the haft.

In the glimpse I got of Hans' health bar before he vanished again he wasn't doing too badly for a guy who just got spiked into the road.

Oh god please, Quest Giver, give me your strongest quest.

I mean, I guess. First time I've ever had a quest to kill something that wasn't a mindless flesh-crafted beast.

"Armsmaster!" I panic Hazed, which should have been my first reaction really. "I got a quest for us to get the f*ck out of here!"

"Goo-"Armsmaster's head jerked as Hans appeared just out of his reach and fired once with a pistol before vanishing. The rest of his mask folded out of his helmet to cover his face and when he spoke again it was in clipped robotic tones. "Good, Dauntless is en-route with Battery. If you can leave, do."

I turned to bolt and almost ran right into Hans who was squinting his Kraut eyes to track my tell-tale shimmer before he disappeared into thin air. Teleporter f*cking sh*ts!

And now to the main problem with this plan, I'd have to drop Haze before I started moving or it would chew through my Mana like a bitch and I'd have nothing left to cast with. I could move a theoretical maximum of two thousand three hundred and thirty-five meters with it active before I ran out of juice, which was now minus my Shield and all the other miscellaneous bits I'd spent and one n' a bit miles was f*ck all distance for a Teleporter to keep track with.

Even at my speeds.

Why couldn't I be fighting, like, Uber or something? Maybe those new Undersiders? sh*t, even Skidmark would do, I'd be pretty hard for him to splatter.

Hans appeared again some ten meters to my right and disappeared again before I could get a read of his power. f*ckin Movers! I glanced back over my shoulder to see Armsmaster and Cymatic circling each other and aarhg, if I left that would mean Colin would get double teamed and probably exploded. All it would take is Hans bumping into him at the right time. sh*t. f*ck. sh*t f*ck sh*t.

I palmed one of my old throwing knives, from back when I used to juggle as Dr. Wu and hurled it at Cymatic. He staggered back as it took him right in the gut, tripping over his own feet and landing flat on his ass, mouth agape in affronted surprise.

-14

I hit the road again and this time it took a strip off my chin and Armsbeard, removing my Haze with it.

-20

Something cracked in my general rib cage area as Hans hit me again. I Hazed up and rolled, catching a flash of his boot as it appeared where my head was a second ago.

Cymatic howled, an ear-splitting pained shriek, but I didn't get to see why as I commando rolled backwards and onto my feet to avoid another booting.

I kept Dempsy Rolling as Hans appeared and disappeared, swinging a knife where I used to be and keeping his gun ready. I shimmered more when I moved but he was still having trouble keeping track of me, but as much trouble as he was having I couldn't get a bead on him either; he was just way too quick and none of my skills really had the oomph to put him down.

So I would just have to make one.

Or finish one of the dozen, mostly finished spell designs I had cooking on the backburner in my mind.

But that would mean dropping my Haze because I still couldn't dual cast.

But I had to do something, I was still bleeding Mana as it was.

But if I did he'd shoot me.

I'd messed up.

Should've run.

I couldn't feel it, the heat in my blood. I had no battle tendency. Everything was cold, sound drowned out by a ringing whine in my ears.

f*ck me, I doubted I'd get too many shots at this. I cupped my palms together, waited for Hans to teleport away, then cast.

It failed, but I was already dodging and Hazed as his knife grazed my back.

-4

Come on, Greg you piece of sh*t, let it do what energy does.

I cast again, burning my palms. That was almost it. You almost had it.

I ducked his blade, this time by the barest whisper of a millimetre.

Power prickled in my grasp, a blinding flash knocking out my stealth mode and this was it f*cking crunch time.

I chucked the volatile lump above my head and dropped-

-30

Taking Hans' knife with me. There was a popping whoosh as the spell burst.

-156

Someone was screaming, oh it was me? And Hans? I was nearly dead? Yes.

I crawled to my feet, vision swimming into greys and blots of light. The blur that was probably Hans was clawing at its facial area.

I stumbled to my knees, bent over and threw up, and lurched on through it back to my feet. There was jackbooted clumping and big metal hands gripped my arms masterfully, robot voice demanding to know how I was.

"Back." I rasped hoarsely.

I was spun around, the sudden motion almost making me puke again, then Armsmaster called me an idiot and made a spraying sound. Instant relief like I'd never known as the inferno I hadn't fully noticed on my upper back cooled to something bearable, making me go weak at the knees. Or weaker, anyway.

Then I was made to sit down on the curb, head between my knees. Twenty-three minutes, in twenty-three minutes my health would be back up to full and I'd be fine. I tried to focus on the timers for my debuffs as the street got steadily noisier, heroes and PRT guys showing up.

Coolio. I started allocating-

Time to make my Wards debut. My real one, not the practice run where I started shouting at them in Japanese. I wasn't really sure why I did that, but I suppose it was funny at the time.

"Thanks, chief," I looked over at my driver, a darker guy with the classic PRT Trooper build and expression who took it impressively in stride when I started transforming into different people as we drove.

"Have a good day, Dark Smoke Puncher," he said tersely, giving me a short nod. Classic PRT Trooper.

"Bye, dude!" I equipped the rest of my new uniform, free of cuts and burn holes, and got out of the unmarked, black SUV. "Catch ya later!"

He nodded again as I shut the door and he vanished behind tinted windows. I caught sight of my reflection and flinched. f*ck me. It was over. Hans had no eyes, he couldn't hide in reflective surfaces any more. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed, the sound aggravating my adrenalin rush. You blew his eyes out, Greg, he's not coming back.

"Hello!" said someone in a nasal voice, that was grating in the same kind of way gargling nails was grating. Boston accents, I would never understand them.

I glanced over and inhaled deeply.

So were Cauldron, like, the good guys? I thought they were just a power syndicate, but they did save… I wasn't sure how to pronounce this sh*t, but they did save Weld's life; even if it was only so they could feed him an untested magic potion. But turning him into a tinman was also an accident, and he was alive instead of being smashed to death in a hurricane on Earth Vav. And that was a thing. Aleph, yeah, we had a portal or something but where the f*ck was Vav? No wonder the quest said I'd die if I f*cked up, these guys were probably on every earth having dug their tendrils deep with Capes like Battery who owed them favours. So maybe not good guys then, more like multi-dimensional power mafia.

"Hey Weld," I waved as my former driver peeled away, satisfied I had been received. I strode up and shook his gloved hand. "Nice t'meetcha."

Weld smiled with platinum teeth, "likewise. Does your name get shortened at all, the whole thing's a bit of a mouthful." He laughed, "How'd you get that one through PR?"

"Oh, you'll find out eventually," I said smugly. "But you can mix it up, however. Dark Smoke, Smoke Puncher, Smokey, Darkie, Punchy, Dark Puncher, Puncher Smoke; whatever."

He looked at me dubiously, like he wasn't sure if I was joking. "I'll go with Dark Smoke. Now we better hurry inside, I don't know the whole situation but it's probably best for you not to be in the open yet; even if this is a restricted carpark it's still easier to get into than inside."

"Yeah, sh*t was pretty f*cked," I said as he led the way. "Nazi's tried to assassinate me and Armsmaster because another villain told them I outed two of their guys. I blew one's face off and Armsmaster harpooned the other, and Night and Fog are hanging around here apparently and those schizo f*cks don't play around."

"That's terrible!" Weld put an almost fatherly hand on my shoulder. "They tried to murder a Ward! You can probably count on one hand how many times that's happened since the Protectorate started."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged. "They're German."

Weld took a moment to process what that could have meant. "Why did the villain tell them it was you?"

"It's a plausible lie, 'cause I coulda, it's one of my powers. But the guy, Coil, set one of his goons on me months ago and this is his revenge for me ducking him all this time. And also maybe for outing all his moles in the PRT, that can't have helped." I shrugged again. "Guy's a yandere bitch, seriously, like I don't want to join your gang get over it."

I eyed all the windows we passed suspiciously as we wound our way through the bustling Boston PRT building. It was a whole lot like the Brockton one only everyone had stupid accents.

"That's pretty god damn," Weld lowered his voice to a whisper. "f*cked up, Dark Smoke. I honestly hope you can get away from all of that here. I've looked over the crime stats of here vs. there and even though we're a whole lot bigger you should be much safer."

"I doubt it, I'm pretty sure I've already seen one of Accord's guys but it was like, super not obvious from his flavour text so maybe he was on someone else's payroll," I looked back over my shoulder, but the guy was gone around a corner.

"Flavour text like on a trading card?"

"Yeah!" I grinned. "Exactly like that! You ever played MtG? I still have my deck sitting around in my inventory. I mean I'm out of practice but I'd love to play a commander round for nostalgia's sake."

"Ah, not me," Weld shook his head quickly. "I'll point him out when we get to the Quarters if he's there. So, with this flavour text, what else do you get?" he continued in the most obvious faux casual voice I'd ever heard.

"Your name is Zcl'marahgm," I chuckled. "At least I think that's how it's pronounced, it's not in any language I ever heard of. Y'don't gotta be coy bro."

Weld stopped and started kind of affecting heavy breathing. Kind of a weird thing since he had no lungs, but maybe it was a thing he did to act like a meatbag. The bustling workers swept around us on either side, continuing their business.

"And that's my real name?"

"Yeah man, or near as I can get. I'll write it down for you later and you can try to figure out how to say it."

Weld started forward again and we were off.

"I'd appreciate that, but you can stick with Weld," he smiled and god damn it I can see my reflection in his cheeks. "Not as much of a mouthful."

"Yeah, cool, that's," I discreetly took a step further away. "Not a problem. So what've you lot been up to around here in… Boston?"

"Oh well not a whole lot, since our roster of both Wards and full Pro members is bigger than yours, we Junior Juniors mostly do the publicity stuff. We have a big joint training thing with the New Yorkers coming up soon-ish though, those are always great fun, especially with the Lancer's." Weld chuckled fondly. "f*cking Jouster though, we're getting his team this time. We always do a big team versus spar at the end, so you might come in handy there."

Oh Weld you poor ignorant fool, did you not read my profile?

"Yeah," I winked at him. "Just maybe."

Weld kind of squinted his silvery eyes at me.

I winked again. That was it though, I was trying to make a better impression. At least I hadn't called him a Metallo-nigg* yet. Good job me, don't wink again even though it would probably be hilarious.

Ok, fine, I won't f*cking wink again, Power, if you think it's such a bad idea.

Would've been great though.

"Yeah ok," Weld said, focusing his gaze forward. "If you think you can make that much of a difference you think you can prove it?"

Oh Zacelmerhageem, omae wa mou shideiru.

Did he just challenge me? Me. The Crawler of the Dauntless genre. The butt baby of Eidolon and Uber.

Did he not even read my profile!?

"Yes."

Weld sighed, "ok, but let's not turn it into a dick waving contest. We're a team, we need to get along."

Because you'd lose, I didn't say.

"Because you'd lose."

Dammit!

"I can shapeshift," Weld eyed me with a patronizing smile.

I huffed, "that's unfair." Maybe I could get Amy to do me another solid?

Lol, solid.

He snorted, "seriously though, I want us to be friends and not have to do this whole alpha struggle. Beyond me being team leader we should just treat each other normally."

I grinned, "and normal you shall get! You seem cooler than Aegis anyway, so no reason we can't be cool. You like anime, Weld?"

His face fell in a familiar pattern because he was probably assuming I was asking if he jerked it to hentai; like that was an original reaction I'd never seen before.

"Uh, no. But I do sometimes listen to Japanese music if there's any crossover there?"

I shrugged and made a fifty-fifty gesture, "any vidya?"

"Not really," he hmmed. "I mostly just listen to a lot of music, but some of the guys are big into that scene."

Well, it was better than nothing. Judging by the sample size of Weld the Boston Wards wouldn't be such dour sicks in the mud like Brockton's, and this whole joint training thing sounded cool as heck and speaking of which.

"So when is this big training thing you mentioned?"

Weld gave a very genuine seeming grin, "April sixth, and if you stick around till August there's another one and then in December, but we do mini ones with just us all the time. Anyway, I'll tell you about it later, we're here."

He gestured to a door that bore the plaque Director E. A. Armstrong, which he then proceeded to knock on as we got within range.

A muffled, nasally voice called out for us to enter and Weld opened the door and I followed him in. Director Edward Armstrong Armstrong looked pretty close to how I imagined Vegeta to look if Vegeta were a normal middle-aged guy; which made him instantly alright with me.

"Dark Smoke Puncher," said Edward, getting up from his desk and walking around it to shake my hand. "I'm glad you're here safe. Director Piggot filled me in on what you've been through, and you can rest easy now, m'boy."

"Call me Greg, Ed," I unequipped my visor. "Everyone does."

The Boston Wards quarters that were my new home were in the Protectorate HQ rather than the PRT building like back in Brockton, which was pretty dope in a few ways. I'd get to see much more of the Heroes since they were here all the time and would rarely go to the PRT offices; it was a problem I had at home, I really only ever saw Armsmaster and maybe Dauntless regularly.

I found that now I was here, I didn't know what to say. I needed to make a good impression but my stomach butterflied in a way it never did when I talked to people.

"Hey," I raised a hand lackadaisically.

No! A milquetoast intro was even worse than a bad one. Theyhadto pay attention to me. Bring the spice.

"Famiglias, what's good?"

I got a smattering of 'heys' back because none of the three present Boston Wards apparently understood the concept of Presentation.

I opened my mouth but Weld stepped forward, "guys, this is Dark Smoke Puncher. He's going to be here for a few months due to some trouble in Brockton Bay-"

"Some Germans tried to assassinate me," I interrupted him. "Just so we're clear."

"Yes," said Weld, now sounding a mite annoyed. "Because of that. So while he's here just treat him like another member of the team."

Wisps of smoke curled off my body as I casually hopped six feet in a single step, "nice to meetchas. Hopefully, you guys have less Nazi's because I've had itrightup to here with those guys," I held my right hand above my head. "Am IReich?"

Polite chuckles. What, were my Nazi jokes not doing it for these guys?

"Uh, yeah," said Norman. "Nazi's, like, suck."

Beside him, Freddie and Daisy nodded.

"Then I guess I'mGoeringto like it here," I grinned, sparkle cosmetic sending my teeth a twinkle. "Eh?"

That one got a proper laugh out of Freddie.

"Did you really get into a fight with Nazi's?" he looked at me and then Weld as though he thought I might've been having him on.

I glanced back over my shoulder to see Weld nodding tightly, "yeah, I almost died. Armsmaster harpooned one through the leg, it was awesome…" I trailed off because their faces were sinking as though they didn't understand incongruence as a joke. Or maybe because murder was a serious subject and people normally didn't take it as well in their stride as I. "I guess you had to be there."

I felt Weld's hand on my shoulder again, this time giving me the 'please for the love of God stop talking' squeeze.

"Well enough about that," I changed tack. "What are you guys about?"

I asked like I didn't already know, even though I totally knew. Observe made their little intros pretty moot anne frankly their Observe Bios weren't even particularly interesting in the first place. Daisy could make my clothes stab proof, but that was it as far as remarkability went.

Their main advantage was they all seemed pretty chill, like Dean. Dean was a chill bro, he might've been the only one there I was kind of friends with, and I might have said chillness was a Cauldron cape thing due to the evidence of Weld but Rory and Chloe existed to represent the Hundred percent Maximum No Chill Brigade.

I scratched at my Armsbeard. Normally I was a social butterfly and would love the chance to get to know some more people, but I think I was done here.

"Nito, well it was nice to meetchas but I've gotta go do an eight-hour arm session in the gym for power reasons. Also, where is your gym?"

The gym session hadn't been quite eight hours, or entirely arms, as I still had schoolwork to do. University level work since I had already finished the entire Winslow curriculum just to prove that I could, or enough of it that I could have graduated already if I was allowed; but apparently no one would sign off on that for some reason. Which was a bit weird since I was going to be schooled on base while I was in Boston so I had no idea what that would entail considering I was far past that sh*t. But whatevs.

I typed complex thesis statements with my left hand and moulded lighting with my right-

-1

Sheisse! I shook my hand to get the tingling out from the electric backlash and hammered backspace to get rid of the twenty lines of gibberish I'd written. Power, gib multitasking skill plox.

One good thing had come of it though, my power wouldn't make a spell if I didn't want it to as shown by the tines of sharp electricity I could extend from all five fingertips without getting a Lightning Claws spell. The major discovery of this was a hidden malleability vs. strength mechanic, as unnamed spells seemed to be subject to my personal skill rather than the aided ones and their concrete effects.

Which meant they were f*cking sh*t.

I fished a potato chip out of the bag on my new desk and crunched it down.

I didn't think I particularly liked having more CHA either. I kept thinking stuff like, 'nah I shouldn't do and or say X' and then getting vivid flashbacks of having blithely done and or said X. This never used to happen, I never used to doubt my own awesomeness. I sighed and checked my phone.

GStringGirl was still marked as online, and had presumably read my last message but wasn't deigning to answer which was bizarre since I thought she'd have loved to know where Case 53's came from, but maybe she just got sidetracked in searching for some obscure meme to reference in her answer.

My eyes widened as a bright blaze of panic flash-boiled my heart and fizzled through my veins like fire. C53's were a Cauldron conspiracy. If I f*cked up the Spoon quest they'd kill me. I shouldn't have told her. What if they were monitoring the internet? What if she was a forty-year-old Cauldron spy (male)? I snatched my phone back up and hammered out another message.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: please don't tell anyone any of this very urgent caudron will murder me thank you please also is imperative I actually know who u are pics when?

f*ck! What if this was an Infohazard? f*ck!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: infohazard
XxVoid_CowboyxX: f*ck, don't mention the c-word, p-bott;es or a-e's

There had to be some thinker power out there that pinged on certain keywords or phrases, or an AI tinker like Richter who made something to trawl the whole internet… f*ck. What if Richter was still alive? It would have only taken one half decent teleporter to get him out of Newfoundland, and Cauldron had dimensional access because yeah sure Haywire wastotallydead and not living in a bunker somewhere doing R&D for the interdimensional power mafia.

I breathed in until it hurt and held it, cheeks bulging with air and deadly secrets. Ok, I was sixty percent sure I hadn't tripped their defence protocols yet so maybe their filter wasn't as fine as I feared, but I had to be careful from now on. The data on my Observe skill was accessible to the Protectorate at large and their agents infested the organisation, it wouldn't take a genius to put one and one together that I had met and Observed Weld.

My one lifeline was that I had only mentioned I knew his name.

Not his backstory.

What backstory? C53's didn't give me anything like that for some reason, very strange, so sorry Mr Men in Black I can't help you there.

A keening groan escaped my lips as I slowly exhaled the held breath. f*ck me, I was so dumb. An idiot sandwich. I'd potentially f*cked myself the day I joined The Wards. I'd had the Spoon quest for months, the threat of death had been clear so why for the love of God hadn't I practised basic OpSec?!

I Reee'd internally for a moment.

Well, can't mourn all the ruddy day, just gotta do better. Ain't dead yet nigg*, no horse heads in my bed. f*ckin' sleeping with one eye open though.

"Do you want it fast or slow?"

Weld's face creased, the dusky lines of boron alloy tracing down his cheekbones scrunching up. "Demonstrate control."

"Fine," I Kaneki cracked my knuckles. "I'll have total control in about two seconds."

Weld looked dubious because he clearly still hadn't read my profile, "Ok, ready? Three, two, one, go."

I took a step and jumped. Smoke billowed from my hands as I sailed over Weld's head and landed behind him with nary a whisper. I couldn't see in my smoke, but I could feel things in it. Not terribly precisely but enough that I could reach out and grab both his elbows.

I cast, then dropped low and Shackled his legs. I Vanished the smoke and gave him a shove, sending him toppling onto the rubber matting. He lay there for a moment, struggling against the heavy, ghostly iron blue restraints.

Then he flexed.

The Shackles evaporated into blue dust as he overcame their durability score, which made sense given his STR rating.

"In my defence," I said as he stood up. "I created that power literally now."

"Ok," he said. "I thought you'd have less power given you haven't been at this very long, but I guess being a permanent Stacking type Trump is nothing to scoff at."

"So you had read my profile!" I j'accused with a finger. "Then why did you underestimate me, didn't they tell you I'm going to be Triumvirate?"

"You are?"

I scoffed, then lit up in a brilliant flash. Every inch of my clothes and skin glowed a piercing white gold, crimson twinkles blinking off my visor as I Transformed it into Kamina sunglasses.

This was it!

"Who the hell do you think I am?!"

Weld reflected my brilliance in shock, "what does that power do?"

There was a war within me between Sensibility and the Hype Beast, and in the end, the Hype Beast won out.

"A Breaker power that turns me into pure photons, rendering me invulnerable."

Double down, Greg, feel no shame no shame. Put your grasses on, nothing will be wrong; it's up to you.

Well, that wasn't too bad, first night in Boston General just getting acquainted with the various doctorbs and sh*t I'd be working with, scouting out the lay of the land, cracking jokes and breaking the ice.

"My employer would like a brief meeting with you, Dark Smoke Puncher."

"Uhh…" I gawped at the elegant librarian looking chick who approached me. "No?"

I'd tripped the Infohazard, Cauldron was making their move.

"If that is your answer then my employer will consider this as non-acquiescence to their request," Natalie Acre smiled. "And respond accordingly."

"My escort is waiting outside."

Oh f*ck, GStringGirl! She still hadn't messaged me back! Oh no no no no.

Natalie shook her head, intricately woven platinum earrings swaying with the movement. "This meeting will not cause any problems on that end, you have five seconds to decide."

I stood there for five seconds like a dumb animal until she turned on her heel and left. A jolt of pure panic rushed from my head to my toes, leaving me feeling like I'd been dunked in Polar seas, and my legs started moving; carrying me after her. The panic freeze left, making me feel clammy and sweaty, but then it hit me, this wasn't a worst case scenario, (in which I would commit suicide by shooting myself three times in the back of the head with a shotgun,) they just wanted to talk. Sure I was probably going to end up as an 'indentured servant' to the Power Mob, but that sure as f*ck beat dying.

My legs carried me down the ramp behind Natalie 'Lunaire' Acre because even if I wanted to I couldn't run, not from her at this time of night. Desperate thoughts scrambled around inside my head, strategies I might use against Accord even though complicated plots were apparently literally his power; I was still an order of magnitude smarter than the smartest person to ever live.

In theory, because it sure as hell didn't feel like it.

My brain continued to produce nothing of value as we approached a pitch black limousine, merely giving flashbacks to Menma AMV's where cool sh*t happened. All the hair on my arms and legs raised to stand on end and my eyes burned with unshed tears.

Natalie opened the driver's door and got into the seat, leaving me standing there alone until the window at the very back slid open soundlessly. I swallowed and shuffled over.

[I leaned down, hands on my knees, "sup, manlet?"]
[I casually stuck my head in the window, forearms leaning on the edge of the opening, "Accord brah, what's good?"]
["Had you're eye on me, huh, gay boy?" I grinned, giving him a wink and reaching in to ruffle his hair.]
["I think Cauldron sucks!" I shouted in his face before blowing up the car.]

I didn't do any of these things, I just stood there as the thousand different parts of Accords mask shifted into a polite smile.

"Dark Smoke Puncher," he said in a voice of power much larger than his physical stature.

I tried not to think about the end of the world.

"Accord."

"Neither of us has the time so I will cut to the chase," Accord said sternly. "I have been informed you have a power that will allow you to root out my entire organisation by merely looking at us, and due to this, I will offer you a bargain. Do not, and neither will I destroy you. There is a balance at play here I would very much like to keep, and I would like to point out that this is the difference between Coil and I; I am giving you an opportunity."

"Ok," I said. "Tell them I'm backing off."

Accord's mask furrowed. "Tell whom?"

"When they ask you," my voice echoed in my ears like I was under water. "Tell them I'm backing off."

"Very well," Accord said after a short pause. "Should they ask I shall tell them. Hopefully, we never have to meet again, good evening Dark Smoke Puncher."

His window rolled up and the limousine peeled away as I tried not to think about the end of the world.

I thought about the end of the world.

If you had asked me five months ago, when I was a simple street juggler, if I wanted to be embroiled in a grand conspiracy and save the world I would have called you a fa*ggot and said I'd rather die than miss out, but now? I don't think I can do this, Sam. In Accord's Observe bio, Cauldron was getting plans to survive the end of the world from his power; a power which scaled in direct relation to the difficulty of the problem. The only reason why an interdimensional power mafia would be committing so heavily to saving the dregs ofthisworld would be to step out at the end and boldly ask, 'would anyone mind if I werekingof this eternal blackness?'

Which meant there was going tobean eternal blackness. First thought was obvious; Endbringers. It was right there in the name, and it was equally obvious that if they kept deep-dicking civilisation like they were we would eventually end up like Africa; a barbarous sh*thole ruled by parahuman warlords with an iron fist. Ironically, Accord already had a plan for that which had been suppressed by the government or, much more likely, the Cauldron operatives inside the government so that the eternal blackness they so desired to rule overcame about faster. Insidious f*cks, taking advantage of Endbringers to crown themselves king of the end of the world.

End of the world.

The world was going to end.

I, I needed to…

I… I needed tostep upsit down. As I sank into a crouch I saw my escort hustling up to me, looking flushed and harried.

"Sorry I'm late, the traffic was a nightmare. This one car would just f*cking not move out of my way."

I stood up and smiled, "yeah, no problem. I just walked out."

End of the world, huh? Never thought I'd have to be a doomsday prepper, but thems the breaks. I scrolled through a related forum, browsing for ideas I could steal; not a whole lot of good ones. For me anyway, since I had to be extra sneaky so as not to give Cauldron a reason to ice me. My main plan was to become Triumvirate and then when the time came to leverage all the power that entailed to put my parents somewhere safe and then commission Dragon to build me a Mega Bunker to keep us all in to safely ride out the initial chaos. Then maybe I'd carve myself out a slice of the apocalypse, Weeb City 1, and reign as a Hokage-esque figure while trying to keep it peaceful. Either that or do it wandering vagabond style, crisscrossing America and righting wrongs as and when I found them.

And now I was going to have to step up my training to get ready for the end of the world, thanks Cauldron. I was going to have to go from a few hours after school to all f*cking day, surely they wouldn't begrudge me that right? Or would it be too obvious I was planning something, even if that something was simply being alive? It was all so tiresome.

I slumped in my chair, resting my face on the cool desk. Maybe it would be worth it to join them, sellsword style, and profiteer from their profiteering because I obviously couldn't beat them. There was a lot of merit to this, as it would negate me having to do any of the heavy lifting myself and let someone else handle the apocalypse. Yeah, yeah maybe probably.

My phone beeped, the tone it used to announce PHO messages.

I turned the screen on and feverishly typed in my login pin.

I opened GStringGirl's message.

GStringGirl: I'm so sorry I didn't message you back straight away, but your last message was a lot to take in; especially for me. Initially, I wasn't going to tell you, I never wanted to tell anyone, I just wanted to be normal friends but I don't think I can do that any longer. You know how I said I'm homeschooled and have really strict parents? It was all a lie, but I wasn't lying to hurt your feelings. I actually live at Westsons Maximum Security Parahuman Asylum, I'm a Case 53. If you've ever heard of the monster Garotte, that was me. I've killed people, I didn't mean to but I can't control my body it just doesn't do what I say you have to believe me I didn't mean to do any of it. I didn't know if I could trust you at the start, but then you got powers and joined the Wards and I thought maybe you could understand, and then you told me you could read a Case 53's real name; not that I just want you to do that for me! It would be nice but you don't have to I just thought it was time to tell you since you know about the amnesia and deformities first hand and weren't dismissive like so many people are. I'm sorry I lied to you all this time, but, well, this is meSveta.jpg

"I can't believe you tried to tell Weld you're invincible," Tyrone laughed as he tapped a Mountain from his stupid rush deck that only noobs played.

"I was f*cking kidding!" I huffed. "Not my fault he takes a joke worse than Aegis, are you still pretending you aren't a furry?"

"I'm not a furry, I just have an interest in old European folklore!"

I snorted. No one had a masterwork fox mask like that unless they were a closet furfa*g, and his denials fooled no one.

"Whatever, fa*ggot," he muttered under his breath, putting another Goblin onto his side of the field.

I grinned shinily and wasthisclose to Disguising myself as a hot female fox girl but thought better of it, Tyrone would definitely get the wrong signal and I didn't particularly want to get known as the furfa*g just because of a little joke. Maybe I would just do it later, in my room, when no one was around. Yes.

I played Boomerang, causing Tyrone to roll his eyes and pick his Goblin back up.

"At least I'm not a completely obnoxious weeaboo, you do know you're completely bastardising the folklore behind the Shinobi, unlike me and mines references to Reynard the Fox, right?"

"What would you know?" I glared sullenly at the table.

"Oh please, you've clearly blatantly ripped off the Menma comic-"

"Manga!" I burst out, interrupting him. "It's a manga! You closet weeb! Menma is so obscure, you wouldn't know about it if you weren't a weeaboo yourself!"

"No, I'm just not a cultural illiterate like you, 'Dark Smoke Puncher'," he made little air quotes. "I bet you stole that from something too."

"No!" I said loudly, causing several other Wards to look over at me. "That name is a very literal explanation of what I used to be able to do at the time, not everything is a reference. If I could rename myself it'd be something like 'Electric Assassin; the Bright Doubling Mage of Quick Imprisonment'."

Tyrone leaned forward, eyes lidded, and played another Mountain before tapping it to resummon his Goblin. "See, I know you're being retarded on purpose but that was just dumb."

I mirrored his movement, "did you just put an illusory dick on my forehead?"

"I may have."

I touched my face, "how veiny?"

"Thoroughly."

I cast Disguise, turning myself into an even dumber looking Tyrone, with no chin and co*ck eyes. "How far into Menma are you anyway?"

"Oh, I'm completely caught up," he settled back into his chair. "The Grass Country infiltration arc is wild."

I Disguised as 3DPD Menma, "Omae…"

Tyrone threw his head back and laughed, a harsh klaxon wail issuing from his mouth. That couldn't be right, his power was visual only, and also I realised the sound was coming from the roof.

"I'm going to assume that's your visitor siren since everyone's putting their masks on," I said, equipping mine. "The BB one is better, btw."

"Of course it is," he slid his head into the fox mask that marked him as a furry no matter how hard he protested. "The only thing that's better here is the crime rate."

I made to reply but something suddenly appeared in my peripheral vision.

「 Come back for another go, have you, Kraut f*cking sh*ts!」 I spat, blood pounding in my ears. Had Hans learned to operate his power via harmonics?

"Huh?" said Mouse Protector.

I stopped screaming and dropped my Haze, looking over to my left at the cloud of smoke that barely concealed the flipped table, Tyrone and our scattered Magic cards. I looked down at my hands and realised I was holding a knife. My hand unclenched and it fell, turning to sparkling dust before it hit the carpet.

"Uh," I said. "Pranked, gottem!"

"What?" said Mouse Protector.

I chuckled, the frantic beating of my heart almost overpowering. "I'm a big fan of yours, by the way, I've read 'The Eternal Mouse' at least once."

Natalie 'Mouse Protector' Dormer seemed to accept my explanation as evidenced by her nodding head.

"I've followed your career," I continued, vanishing the smoke and walking over to right the table as I read off her bio. "An original Ward fighting alongside Armsmaster, leaving to become an indie hero, arresting Ravager two times, joining the Protectorate, leaving the Protectorate because they wouldn't let you go arrest Ravager again, fighting in the second Routing of The Teeth all while never breaking characteronce…You understand what it means to be a true hero. It inspired me."

Mouse swept into a low bow, leg sweeping back as her eared helmet brushed the floor, "well thank you kindly! I assume you're the transfer guy?"

I cast a disguise to hide my sweat and smiled at Tyrone who was sitting on his chair at a weird angle, looking forlornly at our scattered cards.

"No, no, thank you!" I returned the bow to the point where my cheeks brushed my shins.

I don't care if it hurt.

"Do you want to see something cool?" my teeth sparkled as I returned Mouse's grin. "Armsy thought it was dumb but I can see you're a woman of culture."

I want to have control.

"Oh I bet he just hates you," she chuckled.

What the hell am I doing here.

"Actually," I said. "I'm his apprentice."

I had a good eye for detail, it was the little things that sold a fake, gave illusion depth, weight. The pattern of the bark on a tree, the weathering on brick, the arrangement of the tiny hairs on someone's face. It was something I was good at before I triggered, which was then honed by hours of practice and observation. Expressions were an important detail, a very important detail, and not just the big ones; the little ones you couldn't suppress and could barely see. Your brain picked up on them anyway, making an illusion look uncanny as f*ck if they were missing, so when Greg went from calm as could be to Nam-flashback-terrified in the millisecond before he blinded me with smoke and started shouting in Japanese it made his subsequent return to normal very obviouslystrange.

I wasn't totally sure if anybody else had noticed.

Mouse Protector was acting normally as Greg showed her how he could touch his pinkie to his palm without moving any of his other fingers, and the rest of my team were gathering around to see what was going on; there wasn't any weirdness in their behaviour that I could notice.

Greg's skin, I noticed as I joined the group, was wrong. All of it, hair, clothes, expressions, wrong. He was wearing one of his Disguises, but of himself and he'd done a pretty shoddy job of it; they were usually better than this.

He laughed as the others tried to copy him and fail completely, "now check this one out!"

Greg held up a hand and all his fingers started moving independently, some up and down, some sideways and some in a circle.

An excitement caught in my throat as I stepped up, "I can do that, actually!" I stuck out my own hand and wove an illusion around it, fake fingers moving in complex, impossible patterns.

His eyes tracked back and forth for a microsecond as his thinker power led him read through my illusion then cracked a grin.

"Damn bro, even I can't bend my joints ninety degrees backwards, that's sick!"

I preened in the deluge of smiles, my ability to create illusions was second to none but I still wished I could actually do the things I made it look like I could. Or looked like I pretended. I wanted that confidence, confidence like Greg's. The ability to have a total babyface look completely out of place on a shredded body and still be able to have it not bother me at all.

I joined in laughing with everybody else as Mouse Protector instigated a backflip contest, Greg looked fine, I was probably just over thinking it.

I waved goodbye as my parents car trundled away into the Boston traffic, licking away at the last of my ice cream (peanut butter and pecan; flavour of champions). Mum was jammed up against the rear windshield so she could keep sight of me for as long as possible, awkwardly waving back as much as the cramped space allowed.

Their visit was well-timed, I'd been feeling pretty bummed out lately. I weren't no bitch nigg*, but spooking people by teleporting near them was mean, and doing my Medical quest made my skin crawl a bit what with all the blood and guts. Natural reactions. But I was feeling better now, we went around and did touristy sh*t all day and not confronting anything that made me feel squeamish or bad about myself; just like the good old days. I crammed the last of my cone into my mouth and sauntered over to an unmarked van parked nearby, opened the back, and hopped inside.

"Hey, Big Shine!" I said as I became Dark Smoke Puncher in the nanosecond it took for my uniform to equip.

Shock ran across Weld's face before it fell in disbelief, "What are you doing here? How did you even know I was inside?"

"Dude, I currently have like, three thinker powers and they're always on."

My Urban Tracking passive picked out the van, my Observe confirmed it was Protectorate and that was all I needed. Also, I didn't actually know he was here, for all I knew anyone and no-one was inside the van and it was just idling in this weeks rendezvous lot; but he didn't need to know that, my mystique depended on it.

"Anyway," I interrupted as he pretended to draw a breath to speak. "You're going on a patrol, right? Can I come with, I have nothing on for the rest of the day."

I gave a thumbs up to the guy in the driver's seat and he averted his eyes.

"No, and no," said Weld. "Now get out and stop making trouble."

"What's rusting you're anus?" I pouted.

Weld looked like he was going to retort with something scathing, but bit it back with a sigh as he rubbed at his eyes. I didn't know if that felt relieving to him or if it was just something he did.

"Sorry, I'm just a little on edge. You know how I'm going to be promoted as a public face eventually? We've found what might be Blasto's main lab and so I've got to be there to get my image out there and I can't mess this up," his expression became mildly haunted.

I felt that. I felt that feeling deeply. As a future Pentumverate member I had a lot of weight on my shoulders too, or I would as soon as this fact were officially acknowledged. But the point remained.

"I gotchu, Zakel," I jived my head encouragingly. "You don't gotta say a thing, of course, I'll sidekick for you."

He sort of huffed like he was equal parts exasperated, and amused because he knew I was doing this on purpose.

"You're still not coming, but thank you for reminding me to put you on the sh*t shift for telling Hunch his name was Joey JoJo Shabadoo until he cried."

That wasn't fair. "I thought his power would tell him I was lying!" I protested. "I thought he was playing along!"

"Which is why it's one shift and not a whole months worth."

I knew I shouldn't push this, I knew it. Weld had some stuff on his plate and he didn't need me to bumble in and get in the way; but I was stifled. Boston was great but I was going stir f*cking crazy cooped up all day on base going through another accelerated high school curriculum on top of my college courses and my training and doing nothing else. sh*t was f*cked and I had the most overwhelming urge to f*ck sh*t up.

"Please, can I come, Weld?"

He shook his head, "you're not allowed."

"Get me on board," I begged. "Call it in. I'm dying here, bro."

"No, I'm not calling it in."

I sighed and sat down, thinking about the time I promised my dad I'd try harder to not ruin my career by being a dipsh*t. I mean, I was breaking it most days as I tried to sus out who was working for Accord or Cauldron so I could find everyone on the network and bust their sh*t wide open for the cardinal sin of turning Sveta into an anorexic Hideauze.

"Yeah," I said. "Ok, I get it. Just saying though, I can tell if it's his main lab just by glancing at the building, and learn all the weaknesses of his homunculi, and-"

Weld held up his hand and I stopped.

"Buddy," he said, rust red facial lines creasing. "I get it. No one doubts you have the skill, or the work ethic, or that you don't deserve to have this chance; but you're in Boston because you were almostmurdered. I know it must be frustrating having to stay in HQ all day every day, but it's for your own safety. We have a duty of care, one we take very seriously-"

I waved him into silence. "Ok, stop patting me on the back, I get it. Just go kick Blasto's ass, and when you come back we can pat each other on the back, no hom*o."

He closed his eyes and mouth to stop himself from giving me a reprimand for flouting vocab regulation for saying something that could be construed as hom*ophobic.

The driver's phone went off, ruining the moment.

"Bro," I said, exasperated.

He shot me an apologetic look and hit answer. "Yes, sir, all ready here. I'll put him on," he awkwardly twisted around to pass the phone to Weld who gingerly took it in a massive metal paw.

"Bastion," he said, all business.

"Tell him I said, 'hello'."

"Yep, I'm ready too sir," he rolled his eyes at me. "And Dark Smoke Puncher says hello. Ah, our drop off points are the same, his powers told him. Yes. Ok," he frowned and handed me the phone which I immediately put on speaker.

"Hey, Bastion!"

"Dark Smoke," his serious man voice issued out of the receiver. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I. Why are you in Weld's transport?"

"Figured I'd say hi," I grinned at Weld. "Good luck with Blasto, I'd come but Weld said no."

There was a pause.

"Are you volunteering?"

"Yes!" I said as Weld said 'no!'

Bastion made a noise like he was exhaling loudly through his nose, a tinny, jarring whistle through the mic, "I'll override that order, your Observation power could save us a lot of time, but you're on the back line with the communications van unless I specify otherwise. Also, note that you won't be paid the bonus you would normally be entitled to for participating in such an operation, and you will sign a waiver for this afterwards if you decide to come along. Do you agree to this, Dark Smoke?"

The word 'yes' couldn't come out of my mouth faster if I tried.

"Good man. Weld, he's to stay with you until you arrive whereupon you will direct him to his position before proceeding to yours."

"Yes, sir," Weld said, sounding thoroughly put upon.

"Excellent, flexibility is an important trait for a leader, Weld. It's good to have you both with us, over and out."

"Roger that," Weld's face twisted a little sourly as he handed the phone back to the driver. "Well, congratulations."

Of course, now wasn't the time to preen smugly. "He probably shouldn't have undermined you like that," I said. "I mean yeah, I'm an invaluable asset, but I think he was just happier he could get another cape on site without having to pay. Don't worry, Big Shine, you're still the boss."

"You could have just not agreed," Weld huffed, leaning back to rest his shoulders against the van's interior.

"But I really wanted to come!"

Weld made to lean forward but jolted as he realised his elbow had grazed the metal van wall and fused. "God f*cking dammit!" he hissed under his breath.

"Look, man," I said as Weld slowly detached himself from the wall. "I know you have responsibilities, I wouldn't want to be team leader it sounds awful, but you don't know what it's like. I just have so muchenergy, and it's turning me insane. I only need four hours of sleep now, and when I wake up I'm Healthy and combined with my superhuman vitality, I just, I have twenty hours of being on base to look forward to every day. I need this, man, I just needsomethingto get meout."

Weld bit at the inside of his chromed cheeks, "I'm s-"

I shook my head rapidly. "Dude, no. Ain't your fault, ain't your problem."

He sort of rolled his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before nodding resignedly.

To be perfectly honest I didn't much like what CHA was turning me into either. Oh look at me, I'm Dark Smoke Puncher, I speak emphatically and make convincing arguments and guilt trip bros who're only trying their best, ablehblehbleh.

I miss myself.

"You should probably tell Bastion this isn't a lab," I leant down and stuck my head into the back of the van. "It's a storage facility."

I straightened back up and turned to face the building through the thicket of PRT and Protectorate backup, usually, my Observe was more useful than this. After having read his file and dozens of crime reports I could only assume this was where he kept his homunculi. The big guns, the ones he used to hold his territory and remain relevant in a city the fielded both Accord and The Teeth.

God, I hoped they woke out of hibernation or whatever they were in and caused some action because if they didn't I'd be well out of shape by the time my fight with Colin came around; and it was approaching fast. In less than a month I would see him driven before me, and hear the lamentations of his halberd.

There was no way something wouldn't happen, twenty five K exp and some foreshadowing on my reputation? My quest prompts weren't usually this blatant with their precognition. I strolled back over the van and popped my head in again.

"Some sh*t is definitely going to go down, tell them to save some for me when Blasto's monsters riot."

Mike, the chief communications officer, nodded and spoke into his headset. "Bastion, Dark Smoke Puncher is indicating a high chance of engaging massed hostile forces."

I made eye contact with him for a few seconds until it became clear he wasn't going to give them the second half of my message, then shrugged and straightened up to gaze over at the warehouse.

There was a loud crash.

Ah, it's durability just took a dip, hopefully, that was Weld Kool-Aid Manning it through the wall and not something Kool-Aid Manning through Weld.

I could see the ripple run through the PRT troopers, the thousand tiny shifting movements of tensed shoulders and tightened grips as they prepared for the sh*tstorm, growing more pronounced the further it got from the front line. I chewed at a thumbnail as I scanned the warehouse, trying to catch the glimpse of movement over the roof of para-trooping, half bat half snake half dandelion homunculi that would potentially give me an excuse to engage.

I might seriously cry if I didn't get to do something. I stood on my tip-toes and craned my neck, picking at my Armsbeard, the roof of the van clunking under my feet but I still couldn't see anything.

A blue glow suddenly washed out of the door, or hole, in the warehouse; the exact shade of Bastion's force-fields. So was it on then? What was happening?

Voices started shouting orders and troops moved in formation, so something was definitely happening. I paced sideways on the van, trying to find a gap to see through; I wanted so bad to just run in and see but I knew now that when I did things like that I wasn't allowed to do anything fun for ages afterwards.

Inhuman screeching echoed inside the warehouse, a thousand different animals crying out in fury. Bits of pig mixed with mule-ish braying and a hint of a Walrine bellow preceded the thing that flung itself out of the highest window and onto a squad van with a meaty crunch, obliterating it into a post-modern sculpture.

It can't have been Blasto's best work because the thing died on impact, but it scattered the troopers who began panic spraying Con-Foam at the walls like they were trying to stop more things from dive bombing them which was probably exactly what they were doing I'm sorry Boston PRT for doubting your troopers no doubt they're just as well trained and dedicated as those back home and furthermore I don't like that you're rambling to yourself in your head Greg and since when did you become such a little bitch just go down there and join in just because the thing is bleeding a whole lot of red out of its mangled flippers doesn't mean you have to be a bitch about it Greg it's been months Greg-

"All units, engage!"

The van rocked as I bound off the edge, two steps taking me across the empty lot before a vault over a squad car put me in the middle of the troopers. The shrieking was a hell of a lot louder up close, and there was a hell of a lot of banging coming from inside the warehouse that made the walls judder.

I swivelled my head frantically, trying to get my bearings in the chaos, and that was when they started coming out of the walls; tripping over each other to rip into us.

Knives as big as they could be until my power classified them as swords burst into being in my fists as I dove toward some mincing, stilt-legged beast. My charge caught it by surprise and my knives were through what little neck it had before it could so much as squawk. We went to the ground, it thrashed beneath me in a puddle of arterial spray and I stared, dry-mouthed-

-11

I landed on my feet, spinning, blades coming up as the fat sh*t that bodied me stupidly ran right into them like the three INT dipsh*t it was. My arms trembled as I held it up in its death throes, and kept on trembling well after my blades were out of it.

I turned and threw, my oversized knife impaling a big doggish thing through the eye as it ripped into Harry's arm. I leapt in, blinking away their Observe windows and kicked it off of him. The Doglike flew five feet and immediately scrabbled to its chunky paws, completely ignoring the bowie knife halfway through its head; I met it halfway and slipped to the side as it ran, grabbing the handle and wrenching.

The knife burst into blue glitter and the uberdoggo collapsed mid-stride. I turned around as something latched onto my face from behind.

-3
-4
-5
-6

A whirling sphere of blue burst from my skin and sent whatever it was flying into a wall so hard it burst. Holysh*tholysh*tholysh*t. I drew in a shaky breath as my shield ran its course and retreated back to the defensive line the troopers were making. The battlefield was a mess of con-foam and bodies, the homunculi that hadn't been killed or captured were scattering to the winds. My gaze flicked between the injured men and the escaping grotesqueries; if this were Vidya I'd have a QTE to do one or the other, but not both.

I doused my face with a water bottle I had stored and my health stopped ticking down. I was going to go track down the beasts, yeah, that sounded like the best use of my skills. I eyed the bodies one last time, swallowed some bile, and ran.

Yeah, everything was fine there, they had it under control. I had to go stop Blasto's brood from molesting innocent civilians with their various unspeakable appendages.

My feet skimmed over the dirty concrete with barely a whisper as I followed the trail of the thing that was trying to head into the city, it was time to usethat.I swallowed a mouthful of saliva and grit my teeth, committing the magic I'd been sitting on to Spell.

Everything became clear, more real. Solid and vibrant and amazing. I cut the spell off before it could drain my mana too much, quickly read its description, then drew on speed. I caught up to the horse-gorilla in a flash and drove my remaining knife through the base of its skull. Its health bar winked out and it ploughed face first into a brick wall.

I jumped, switching speed for strength as my foot hit the same wall and bounced up and across, further than I'd ever jumped before, and hit the ground running.

The second monster wasn't too hard to find-

-in the open industrial area, its clumsy charge leaving a trail even an amateur could follow; but what was concerning was it was heading in a suspiciously direct route to the nearest populated area. That wily Blasto.

It was surprisingly fast for something that was covered in bark-like armour, but nowhere near as fast as me. My fingers grazed its gnarled 'skin', sparks crawling between them, and it stiffened mid-stride, and fell. I rolled it over and jammed an Arc Flash into its craggy mouth, quickly retreating out of range before it blew with a sharp popping sound and the smell of ozone. The smoke drifting from its corpse vanished into the wind, and I paused for a moment. Just like back home with Amy, you're a PC this is what you do. And then I left it there, burnt and blackened and lifeless.

I had only seen three run this way and we were getting dangerously close to people, I could even hear cars. And screaming. The screaming really helped narrow it down.

I burst out of an alley and onto the street where something like a big canary yellow parrot gripped a tipped over hatchback with all four sets of claws and was working on peeling the door open like a can of sardines.

With a drab of enhanced speed and strength, I accelerated forward, sucker-punching it where a human would have kidneys. It squawked autistically, collapsing and spluttering in garbled high pitched screeches; I gripped its noodley arms and Shackled them behind its back. It tried to shake me off but tripped, and I slammed it into the bitumen nice and hard; Shackling everything I could touch. It wiggled a bit, but with all the mana constructed restraints it had no leverage.

"The capture of this bird is sponsored by the Boston Wards!" I bellowed, setting a foot on its prone form. I panted heavily, looking around, but no-one was filming. I took my foot off the bird and sighed in relief, making my way around the car and waving to the passengers through the windshield. I gave a double thumbs up at their stunned expressions, shuffled to the side, worked my fingers under as far as I could and dead-lifted the hatchback back onto its wheels with perfect form.

I opened the passenger side door, "are you guys ok? Do you want me to call an ambulance? I'll call an ambulance."

The dad licked his lips, "no, uh, we're fine. You're melting."

I snuck a peek at my reflection in the wing mirror, most of my hair was gone, a big portion of my suits shoulders were smoking slightly and fraying away and my skin was near blistering.

"I didn't even notice, that'll be fine in a few minutes, are you sure you don't need help with anything? I'm Dark Smoke Puncher, Boston Ward, so I can probably make it happen."

I glanced over at the son in the driver's seat who looked like he wanted to cry but wasn't for some reason.

"No? Ok, well I'll get back to it then. Stay safe, citizens!"

I closed the door gently and rounded the car to the restrained bird, I hoisted it up in a fireman's carry and trotted off, giving a jaunty salute/wave hybrid thing as I returned to the alley from whence I came. The lanky canary over my shoulder gave muffled squawks as it tried to thrash, I jogged until I got back to the tree-fiend and set it down next to the still lightly smoking body.

I conjured a new blade, thin and sharp, then poked around the gaps in the Shackles until I found what I hoped was the esophagus, and stabbed. Just like with Amy. The big bird gurgled wetly as I slid the knife out and I left it to die while I shuffled over to the barky thing and put its corpse into my inventory.

Ah, very good. Big bird joined it in inventory space, Swol Horse was picked up on my way back, and I trotted up to the warehouse barely two minutes after I left.

"Is there anything left to do?" I asked one of the troopers securing the area.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Anything left to do, like, more of Blasto's things or something?"

"Ah, look, no not really. As far as I can tell the strike team has subdued the attacking forces, and the capture team is dealing with the runners, I'm not sure if there's anything for you to do."

I nodded, "ok, thanks!"

He might have smiled back at me, but I couldn't tell through the faceplate. I carefully picked my way over to a big mound of struggling beast and con-foam and dumped my kills. I should go find Weld and Bastion, maybe they'd let me farm.

Weld sat down next to me, a little too close to be comfortable. "After yesterday, I want to suggest you try getting some counselling," he said. "I've been told we're getting Dr. Yamada for the next rotation and I can assure you she's the best of the best; she's helped me more than I can say."

"Sure," I said.

Weld just kind of froze in confusion next to me, I looked up from the sci-fi web-novel I was reading and gave him a look of matching bafflement. "What?"

"Usually people aren't so, uh, receptive to the idea of talking to a therapist."

"I'm a pretty well put together guy," I shrugged at him with my face. "Besides, the last time was pretty interesting, y'know? Went a couple of times when I was a kid, talked with the guy about the tv show I was into, and the fan-comic I was writing, and he decided I was too normal to keep going."

"What show was it?" Weld asked in a way that smacked of autopilot like he couldn't think of a response and devolved into small-talk.

"Some Mexican Protectorate cartoon ripoff," I waved dismissively. "Watched it for days, it's why I know a bit of Spanish…"I trailed off. "Mi personaje favorito fue la torre del rayo, la estafa de Alejandría, el Sr. Weld."

There we go.

"I haven't spoken any in years though, and I checked the show out a while back, watched about thirty seconds, and man was my taste sh*t as a kid. Even the actual Protectorate cartoon is better, and it's f*cking lame."

"Tell me about it," Weld snorted, rolling his eyes. "You know how I'm being groomed for a top spot? That comes with PR blasting, and it wouldn't be so bad but even for an all-ages show it's boring, at least I won't have to actually voice myself."

"I'll voice you."

"Stop," Weld grimaced good-naturedly. "I don't sound like that. I've watched my press footage, and I don't care what you and Tyrone say, not my voice."

"You want some WD-40 and a pipe cleaner?" I laughed, equipping a can of it out of my inventory to my hand and giving it a shake. "Fifty bucks says my power is more reliable than your ears."

Weld actually looked a little hurt so I put the can away and made a mental note to go easy on the metal-related prop comedy for a while. "If it makes you feel any better, Panacea hates it too. Or she used too, last time I mimicked her voice she snigg*red but she could have just been laughing at me."

"Riiight," he said. "You were both in Brockton Bay, I didn't realise you were friends."

"Oh, we go way back, workin' in the hospital together and, uh, fishing. Bros," I made a fist and thumped it over my heart twice. "Tight. Take a bullet for that bitch."

"It's good that you had a good friend back home, you don't talk about your Brockton team much."

This was veering dangerously close to a conversation where I admitted having faults like, 'it was my fault they don't like me because I'm very annoying', and, 'I have poor people skills'. Not to say I was admitting to having faults, but to an unenlightened eye it might seem that way. Yeah, that was definitely it, Greg.

"They're cool guys," I said instead, with a shrug. "We just didn't have many common interests. Also, my powers were really weak at the start and they were sceptical of my claims."

Weld looked at me shrewdly, "yeah, I can see how they mightn't have believed you."

"The joke is on them now," I tossed my tablet aside. "When I go back eventually, I'll be able to take them six v. one, and then I'll ask, 'how it do?' And they'll have to say back, 'yes Greg, of course, I believe you'll be Triumverate one day, and I was stupid to think otherwise.'"

"That's," Weld shook his head, hair shifting like it was real and not a tangle of wire. "Good for you, buddy. I'll let you know about session times if you're still interested when Dr. Yamada arrives, and let you get back to your reading."

"Cool, catch you later, man."

Weld got up off my bed, gave me a smile and walked away. I heard his footsteps pause somewhere in my hallway for a good ten seconds.

"Why is your mirror covered up?"

"It ruins the Feng Shui!" I called back. Really, it was because it was fixed to the bathroom wall and I couldn't take it off without taking a big chunk of plaster with it.

A grunt of understanding emanated from the hallway and the footsteps started up again followed by a message alert tone.

"sh*t!" spat Weld. "f*ck!"

"What is it?" I leant up from where I was lying, twisting my neck to relieve the soreness that came from having it jammed sideways against the wall. Weld didn't usually swear, and if he did it was never in that kind of tone.

Then he spoke a word. A cursed word that brought to the forefront of my mind memories of furtive, three AM faps, and long rant posts on various message boards.

"Simurgh."

sh*t. f*ck.

I was out of bed in a flash, becoming dark Smoke Puncher, and almost crashing into Weld as I scrambled out of my quarters after him.

"You're not coming!" he said as we ran through the Protectorate HQ. "Not Authorised!"

"I just want to see! I'm not going to, I don't want…" I trailed off. "I don't want to go over your head again."

I didn't want to go. Endbringer battle? Against theSimurgh?I liked not being made a murderous lunatic, just ask the Parahuman formerly known as Sphere, he'd know what I was on about. I was a brave American warrior, not suicidal.

"Good," he ground out as I loped easily alongside him. "Because I'm kinda pissed about that."

I decided not to tell him about the secret selfie of us at Blasto's warehouse that had Sveta squeeing over his handsome, brave, ripped metallic bod. I should really stop breaching security protocol for her, but who was she going to tell? God I was lucky she didn't turn out to be a catfish.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way."

Weld grunted, and we ran on.

We skidded into the Protectorate lobby, to see a buzz of activity centred around Bastion, Hephaestus and Jekyll.

"Right on time," Bastion barked. "Strider will be here in T-minus thirty-seven seconds. It's Canberra this time, she's touched down, are you ready because this is the only chance you'll have to back out and you're not coming," he pointed at me.

"I know," I gestured to Weld with my head. "He already said so, I just wanted to see."

"Feel free to hang around, Strider'll be back to pick up the second group at some point."

"Good luck," I waved as Weld stepped up to the group. "I'll let you know if you've been Simurgh Bombed when you get back."

Bastion sank halfway into an Excuse Me What The f*ck pose.

"Yes, I'm almost certain I can do that," I preempted him as he drew breath to speak. "Put me within seeing distance of a confirmed one some time and I'll know for sure."

"I'll deal with you when I get back," he waved dismissively with a big, blue gauntlet. "We have about ten seconds, everyone get close."

I watched them huddle for a tense moment before Strider appeared out of nowhere with a harshcrack, to which I didn't flinch, strode forward and the whole group vanished with a sucking, popping kind of sound.

I stood around for a bit, observing the alertness of the PRT employees, before I wandered over to a nearby chair and sat down, equipping my phone.

You: hey panna cotta, you going to the simurgh fight?

Maybe I should have jumped into the port zone instead of being a turbo puss*, I'd never been to Australia, maybe it would have been fun? Oh, who was I kidding, I wasn't Menma. Staying was the right choice, I couldn't jump in and get into trouble just because of my retarded brain, and if I could do what my parents told me to every day for years I could stop flouting the orders of the paramilitary organisation I willingly joined to avoid getting merced by some insane f*cktard villain who was acting like I scuffed his new NIKE's or something. Christ.

My Protectorate phone buzzed, I clicked it on and read the text urging non-essential personnel to report to base, and that if it was your day off you'd be getting time and a half. Baller, I got leave after yesterday and now I'd get more money to put into an account I wasn't allowed to touch, but at least when I turned eighteen I'd be unironically quite wealthy.

My phone beeped.

Weed Thot: sh*t, no, I'm not cleared to. Where the f*ck have you been, did you gas krieg again?
You: didn't dean or someone tell you? Boston, cause I almsot got assassinated by germans

Honestly, no one told her about that? How lazy could those fa*gs be? I mean, I was pretty sure they were allowed to tell, it's not like it was a secret I was here. I even got a mention in a thread talking about Blasto's escaped monsters, one of the dudes in the car was asking who I was because he didn't think Boston had a Ward matching my description. It took so much self-control to just read and not play hypeman to myself as VC.

Weed Thot: what the f*ck?
You: Coil false flagged me and tried to get germans to murder me, you probably heard about the series of bodies that were pulpy sacks of goo? Armsy harpooned that guy and I burned the other's face off. Besides almost dying it was pretty rad, how's your sister?

Rainbow flakes of mana began to wisp off my free hand like confetti, a celebration of 'why did I ask that?', sure, she was the most beautiful girl in the world but you don't dog the boys. You never dog the boys, because, in the end, the boys might be all you have left.

Weed Thot: Yeah, someone mentioned in the tea room that the autopsy guy was talking about that. And god damn, what is it with you and germans? She's fine

Oh, right, I routinely teased her about her pseudo-incestuous lusts. Thank god for that smokescreen.

You: I dunno, but it was either germans or asians and it would probs be racist if it was asians. Why don't you get a gf and then make her look like GG in subtle ways? A ton of lesbos would jump at the chance to be with you
Weed Thot: Just give up on that, please, I'm not going to change my mind on it
You: yeah, fine, I'm still you're wingman thojust remember that turbo weed doesn't count as a gf, also give me some like you promised
Weed Thot: yeah yeahand when you come back I'll give you something even better that I've been working on
Weed Thot: g2g teacher's being a bitch

Oh yeah, she still went to school. I actually kind of missed it, in a weird sort of way because I was bored out of my skull there before. I hoped Sparky and Taylor were doing alright, what with their band and jumpscare powers, perhaps if they combined the two? Started a grunge metal band called Horror Show where listening to live gigs made you freak out, yeah, there had to be a market for that for sure. I could still be the front man with just a bit more practice, and with a Dancing, and some Instrument skills, I could transform our act into something great. Note to self, request dance and guitar skill books.

I put my phone away and bent over, resting my elbows on my knees and staring at the polished tile flooring. This not going to the Simurgh fight sh*t kinda felt like being left out, even if I didn't want to go in the first place. I glanced up at a sudden burst of noise, then looked back at the ground when I saw it was just Nitroman turning up.

I cupped my hands, gathering mana in dimly glowing streams, coalescing into humanoid shape. I'd had some practice making sexy figmas, and the jealousy I got on the buyfa*g threads attested to that, but I'd never made the Simurgh before. I had a pretty solid mental image of her, heh solid, but there was a lot of fine detail involved in the feathers and I wasn't exactly an artist. Note to self, request art skill books.

I glanced up again when I heard the door open, Dove and Redwind hurrying inside, and returned to my sculpting.

I think I made it too sexy, because I was just staring instead of covering her up with wings, when usually I hated pictures of her that showed too much. The wings gave an alluring, angelic sense of modesty-

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

"Nothing!" I vanished the half-finished figma into my inventory. "Mouse Protector, hey, uh, what's up?"

"Why, I'm preparing to chew a hole in the skirting board of villainy," Mouse said in a way that managed to be both completely unironic, but also deeply ironic. "But I see that you're the only chillun here, chillin' on your lonesome."

"I live here," I looked back down at the floor. "Are you going?"

I saw Natalie put her hands on her hips in my peripheral vision, she sighed, plopped down in the seat beside me and patted me on the back comfortingly.

"I am, Smokey, and I can't say for sure I'll come back."

I turned, looking up past her bascinet's visor into her bright blue eyes. It's not like this was Behemoth or even Leviathan, Simurgh actually had a very good survival rate; comparatively. "I'm pretty sure you have to live, so we can burrow into the pantry of evil."

"We'll feast upon the cheese of their defeat."

I laughed so suddenly my leg jerked out and I fell back in my chair. Mouse Protector a cute, move over Miss Militia, I was going to marry Mouse Protector!

"There we go!" Natalie punched me on the shoulder. "Just because I, and many others, might be killed or driven insane doesn't mean you can't laugh. Life isn't worth living without laughter!" She burst into an evil cackle. "Even if they hate it we have to keep on smiling, Smokey, it's our greatest weapon and our strongest defence! Smile until it's real!"

"It's like my mother used to say," I gave her my sunniest grin. "'nigg*s iffy, uh. Blicky got the siffy, uh.'"

Natalie gave a very confused laugh, "she sounds like a very wise woman."

I shook my head, "she just has terrible taste in music."

A loudcrackthat sent a ripple of flinches through the lobby sounded the return of Strider.

"sh*t," muttered Natalie, jumping to her feet. "Wait, I'm coming!" She turned to face me, walking backwards. "Keep smiling, Smokey, and don't think I didn't see that hot Simurgh you made, little perv!"

She turned with a crow of laughter, "crikey mateys! Let's go put a shrimp on the barbie! Top sh*t ayyyyy-"

Strider vanished again, taking the Protectorate and Natalie with him, air rushing to fill the void of their passing.

Screw the rules! I got out my phone and loaded up my DSP Twitter, found the Mouse Protector verified account and commented 'Based.' without the PR teams say so. f*ck the Simurgh! Not literally, even though I could make rubbery soft mana constructs, I could do my part!

I leapt to my feet and raced to the Wards quarters. I heaved all the furniture out of the way and paced around the new clearing, exuding mana. A scale model of the Simurgh slowly took form on the rug, no longer unearthly beautiful, but frumpy and with buck teeth and the words 'BIG GAY' on her forehead in big, all-caps Ariel Black font. I equipped my phone and a selfie stick, snapping a quick pic; that one was for Sveta and I guess Amy too. The words faded away, and I waited.

Eventually, someone interrupted my feverish pacing by opening the door without sounding the mask alert. Perfect.

"Dez!" I shouted. "Don't freak out!"

"About what?"

I circled my Simurgh, now covered in a big black mana cloth, as she walked into the clearing I had made.

"I must ask you not to scream," I pointed at the hidden beast. "But this might just provoke that!"

The cloth vanished and to her credit, Dez didn't cry or run.

"That really isn't what I expected," she stammered. "Did you make that?"

I nodded vigorously, "now please tell me if it's in bad taste for us post a group pic with a defaced Simurgh, and the caption, 'we're doing our part!'"

I presented to her a sharpie.

She regarded the marker for a long moment before breaking out into a wide grin, "what the hell, lets find out!"

"This hand of mine glows with an awesome power! Its burning grip tells me to defeat you! TAKE THIS! MY LOVE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW! ARC BLADE!" I screamed as I shoved my hand through the chest of the Simurgh.

The wailing, popping screech of the bladed fistful of lightning in my hand died as it sucked out the last of my mana. I leant my forehead against my ugly Simurgh statue as it disintegrated into fading motes of light.

"Did you get it? Show me!" I turned and hurried expectantly to Norman who was filming with my phone.

He held it out at arm's length and hit play. Really, besides the utter ear-rape of my Arc Blade it was a good video, and most importantly, made me look hella cool.

"I can do some sound mixing so we can hear you properly," he said, dragging the time slider back to somewhere near the start. My smooth, clear voice could be heard briefly before being muffled by the 'bandsaw f*cking a live cable' whine. "I'll have to cut you looking at the camera at the end anyway."

"Actually," I stroked my armsbeard thoughtfully. "Leave the sound as is, leave it all as is. This is the real sh*t the people are after, that raw, uncut, unwashed reality."

"If you say so," he handed me back my phone. "I've never bothered saying anything on my Ward accounts that I didn't have to."

I swatted him on the shoulder, "you leave it to me, chief, I'll get this sh*t posted right."

Norman grinned savagely, "Bastion won't even punish us for this I bet, like, who the f*ck is going to stick up for the Simurgh, man?" He laughed. "We should do this for every Endbringer."

"I feel that," I tossed my phone at an angle, making it spin diagonally before catching it. "I feel that feeling deeply…" I trailed off.

Maybe I should transfer here, it was certainly a lot more fun than Brockton, and with fewer Germans.

"Hey, Rey-Rey!" I called across the room. "Is it ready yet, I just had a brain blast."

Tyrone looked up from his phone, "s'been ready the whole time."

I set off at a stride, noticing Norman was giving me an 'I guess I'll just go f*ck myself then' look out of the corner of my eye as I disregarded his entire existence the moment something else came up. Fugg. Oh well, too late now, I'll do better next time.

"Bring it forth," I quoth, gesturing grandiosely with an arm. "Show me the beast."

With a roll of his eyes, a perfect replica of my ugly Simurgh appeared glorious technicolour and all, and flipped me off. It began to soundlessly break-dance, wings clipping through the wall and floor as it ground out a sick windmill into a L-kick. The Simurgh air flared, it's airtime tubular, before slowly floating to the floor and settling back into its usual upright posture.

"This Simurgh is too gnarly."

It flipped me off again as Tyrone spoke. "So you figured out how to make that distorted bass-drop meme sound?"

"Absolutely, almost. I've been working on it for ages but the super-vibrato change in electricity mana of my Arc Blade just gave me some insight, which in hindsight was totally obvious. I won't go into it, but suffice to say that when I get this I can throw us a rave any time, anywhere. sh*t will be f*ckken neato," I held my hand up, feeling the mana pulsing under my skin like a second heartbeat. I slowly wiggled my fingers, playing with the colourless energy, feeling it play off itself, directing the currents. A low pitch whine started up, the kind that gave your teeth fur. A second tone began atop the first, higher and wobbling as my mana vibrated against itself-

"Nailed it," I said, and made that bass drop.

Tyrone clapped his hand over his face to muffle his unflattering snort of a laugh, "oh this is going to be so good, you have to start dabbing in public with that!"

And I wanted to. I really wanted to. Really, really wanted to. And maybe I would if the situation called for it and it would be funny, rather than at random like I had in the past. Sure, I'd thought it was hilarious but looking back on it…

"Dabbing is for fa*ggots, that's why we're making the Simurgh do it," I sneered at him. "And if I'm wrong, may Behemoth strike me down in a foreign country in six months time. God bless the Triumvirate."

"Too soon, man," Tyrone hung his head to stare at the gleaming white tiles. "They're not even back yet."

I rubbed at my Armsbeard, flaring CHA for a second so I could feel bad about myself.

"Sorry."

Tyrone shrugged.

"Sorry," I said again.

"Ngl smh tbh fam," he said. "Lets just do the thing though, what did you want to have her say?"

I told him the quote, he agreed it was hilarious.

"Not sure what voice to give her," I said, and cleared my throat. "Because it can't be a good voice, I was thinking maybe Midwestern accent with a valley girl pattern and vocal fryyy," I dipped into the voice as I spoke. "But like, crossed with a fat person. Make her sound real stupid."

"Works for me! Run through it a couple of times so I can get the lip flaps synced right."

CRACK!

The displaced air buffeted us as the entire group that had left for Canberra was deposited in the lobby by Strider, with an accompanyingwooshas he left, almost a full day after they left and looking like death warmed over. I tiptoed anxiously to see over the crowd, rapid firing Observe to see if anyone was hurt, but beyond a few bumps and bruises they were fine; most importantly no one had anything resembling a [brainf*cked] status effect.

I resisted the urge to blast MLG airhorns as we spontaneously applauded. It wasn't a thing we decided, or even a custom as far as I knew, but the entire crowd, of us Wards, the Troopers, PRT and Protectorate workers all just started clapping at the same time. A huge grin split my face; they weresafe.Tired as f*ck, but safe.

The returning heroes met our praise with weary grins and raised fists, the very picture of badasses. Weld turned to us, and on his first step, we rushed him, clamouring around into a big Wards only group hug that he buckled under while making some kind of noise.

I glanced up and saw out of my peripherals Mouse Protector quietly slipping out the front doors. That was… Definitely odd. I disengaged from the stack and skirted around the tangle of adults who were slapping the Protectorate members on the back and handing out beers. The automatic doors opened for me and I jogged after Mouse.

"Hey, Mouse!" I called as I came up alongside her, matching her brisk pace. She glanced at me, and in the moment before she looked away I caught a glimpse of her face through the gaps in her bassinet. A smile as brittle as brandy-snap beneath bloodshot eyes. The rest of my question died on my tongue before I even took the breath for it.

"I'm going home," she said.

My feet stopped moving and I watched her walk away, trying to hide a limp. But she could teleport though… what happened in Australia? f*cking Simurgh. She hailed a cab, got in, and it drove away out of sight around a corner. My feet started moving again, carrying me back into the Protectorate office and I beheld the heroes with a fresh perspective.

Shaking hands, sweaty faces, clenched jaws all hidden behind long practised customer service smiles that didn't reach eyes. I got the feeling there was no victory at Canberra.

This vibe seemed like it had been picked up on because no one was asking any questions. I guess everything I had read had been right, there was no victory at an Endbringer fight. Ever. And yet, everyone was pretending something had gone right beyond making it out alive… I could see how that would help; I did the same thing for various things I didn't want to think about ever.

My guts queased as I shot off a quick text to Colin; who went, what happened, who came back? He had almost one hundred per cent gone, Armsy wasn't the type of guy who would avoid an Endbringer if he could help it because he was insane. But surely, if all the heroes in Boston could make it back so could he, right? He had to have, I still had that quest, and Amy could fix him even if he was as much man as Robocop; she'd just need a few kilos of meat and he'd be good as new.

I sent her a text asking if she knew anything.

I sidled back into the Wards pack to get a better look at Weld, he was a bit hard to read sometimes what with being made of metal, and even now my Observe wasn't giving me anything informative about his mental state; just that he was tired as f*ck.

"Weld," I said quietly as I shuffled up next to him. "What happened at the fight?"

"The city has to be domed."

"What? Like in The Bubble? Why?"

His teeth made a noise like a hydraulic press as he ground them in a grimace, "because it has to be domed."

Something in his tone made me not want to ask again. I knew all about Lausanne, and Madison and London and none of them had adome. Quarantined, walled in and bombed sure, but not domed. You only domed when you couldn't bomb.

I was suddenly very glad I hadn't gone and judging by the uneasy looks the others were sharing, so too were they. I wish Weld hadn't gone, he didn't deserve this, nobody deserved this. f*cking Endbringers, f*cking Simurgh and f*cking Scion; just kill them already you unbridled autist!

Blood pounded in my ears as I seethed. I knew what I had to do, I was going to be Triumvirate.

I had to kill a f*cking Endbringer-

You're god damn right.

I crushed my SIP can and threw it hard at the Console's little trash can, knocking it over and spilling its contents everywhere. Whatever, someone else would clean that, I had work to do and the Endbringer's wouldn't kill themselves. I mean, I hoped they would, now that I was less upset I realised I had no idea on how to kill them because if the actual Triumvirate couldn't do in near on twenty years how the f*ck was I going to? I mean, my power seemed to think I could but it also seemed to think I could take Sophia out on a date and have it go well so maybe it was a bit suspect on that front.

I tabbed over to another window to once again read the chronology of their attacks. I, like every other Protectorate Thinker, didn't know what to make of it. Why did Behemoth attack six times over four years before Leviathan turned up? Why did it take another six years and sixteen combined attacks for the Simurgh to appear? God damn inscrutable motherf*ckers.

I cracked open another SIP and took a long, drawn out sip, savouring the tang. God bless my inventory for keeping them cool.

Their goal seemed pretty obvious, terrorise the world until there wasn't anyone left. And their methodology was sound, they were doing a bang up job of it. But why though, all the Protectorate had at my clearance level was bare-bones as f*ck and I doubted anyone even at the highest clearance in the Think Tanks or WEDGDG had anything more helpful. Sure, there was speculation, they were people whose powers had gone wrong, they were Case 53's, they were the source of powers, they were gods etc. But none of that was confirmed. I knew in my heart that it would come to this. I would have to Observe one.

Observe had never let me down, never failed to give accurate and useful information. It was why my highest rating was Thinker. Maybe I'd put in a request to use it on one, maybe it would even be approved when I turned eighteen, maybe I could tell Armsmaster that it would help save uncountable lives if I was allowed to look at Behemoth from a kilometre away.

Hopefully, he'd be too busy slaughtering everyone else to get to me haha.

Hopefully, it would also actually give me something useful and not, 'Yeah, sorry, the Endbringers are invincible kill you're self'. That would just be demoralising right there.

I got out my work phone and dialled Armsmaster. After about ten rings he answered with silence.

"Hello?"

There was a bit more silence before he grunted, "Veder."

"Hey man, no one was answering my texts so I figured I'd call you, how did that Simurgh thing go yesterday?"

There were disgruntled creaking sounds in the background as he took his sweet time answering. "The city has to be domed."

"Yeah, that was what Weld and Bastion said too, but you're all good right? You sound tired."

"Yes, I'm fine. I was asleep."

"For once," I chortled. "But that's good, did anyone else go? Are they ok?"

"Ms Militia also attended, and she's fine. Was there anything else?"

"Well, not really. See you in a couple of weeks, bro."

More disgruntled sounds issued from the other end of the phone, "oh, right, yes. See you then."

I took a breath to answer but the call ended tone met me half way. Rude. But whatever, the important thing is that he wasn't dead or brainf*cked. I quaffed some more of my SIP can and settled back into my chair for a long night of pointless research.

I nosed my way into Boston's PR department, it was a bit smaller than Brockton's and way more office like in that it was just a set of offices instead of a whole presentation. A total switch with the research departments, it was huge here and they loved how weird my power was, whereas in Brockton they barely had time to care.

I walked past doors, glancing through windows until I Observed someone who met my requirements. I knocked on her window and mimed walking in and shrugged, to which she held up a finger and continued speaking into her phone. I faffed about outside the door, reading some posts about a dogsh*t seasonal anime I unironically loved until I heard her put the receiver down.

I opened the door, went in, and leant against the edge of her desk.

"Well, if it isn't our little Simurgh Slayer," Nancy's face creased into a thousand crows-feet as she smiled, which wasn't a great look on a twenty-nine year old. "What can I do you for?"

I wasn't sure if she was making fun of me, and that aggravated my Betamax genes. Surely not, right? The videos had gone viral, as expected, with a largely positive reception so surely I was just being a stupid little bitch for doubting myself in any fashion and I should just roll with it.

"L'me axe you summin, Nance," I made a secretive gesture and leaned closer. "Do you ever wish you had your own backing track or sound effects?"

She mirrored my smile, but her eyes were confusion. "I suppose, it would be pretty interesting, wouldn't it?"

"And it is," I continued, drawing back a little. "I was thinking something like-"

{Guitar riff}
{Dark Smoke Pun-cher!}

Nancy flinched at the sudden blast of sound.

"-But I figured it would be better to ask you guys for help in workshopping it. Like for when I enter the scene or something, bam! Cue the noise, maybe do some poses and sh*t? Yeah?"

She opened her mouth, paused, and recognition lit up her face at the vague pose-like movements I was making. "I thought your look was strange, but it's all a send up to the Sentai Elite, isn't it? Your whole schtick is a reference to Matcha Black!"

I had absolutely no f*cking clue as to who that was.

"It's so obvious," she laughed. "The little gold lightning bolts on your side, the visor ripped straight from his helmet, the weird clash of sneaky and stand-out." She laughed again, covering her mouth. "It's too bad you're so white, we could have capitalised on it a bit more."

"Haha, yeah, I know right?" Matcha Green, yeah, I'd heard of her, but who was this guy meant to be? "My favourite underrated Sentai hero."

"Good," she gave a small, sad, contemplative smile. "That's good. But you're here about managing your presentation, yes? Let me just bring up your file."

She spun her chair around a bit to fossick through her computer, "Why does it say you're an uncooperative liability? You came to us for image help."

Cold sweat broke out under my uniform, "they made me do a test run press conference, and I didn't take it seriously. For some reason they thought I'd really say, 'and Vista is my nigg*,' live on air."

She gave me a pitying look and continued scrolling through.

"Sound Generation doesn't seem to be on your list, but I would guess it's a new one," Nancy frowned as she comprehended just who it was she was dealing with. Me, the Trumpiest Trump whoever Trumped. "Then that would be why you're here… It's good to get things like this approved, and while your little sound effect would be fine to use in the public it could do with some fine-tuning. It's too loud, for example. And you can never do enough focus testing, because if you can do other sounds?"

I nodded.

"Depending on the situation, and the crowd, you can pick the most popular for that demographic, sway the mood and set a presence," Nancy whipped out a stack of post-it notes and started jotting down reminders. "Leave this with me for now, I'll kick it about the office after I get a recording, see what the others think and get back to you when we have some examples cooked up."

We exchanged Fonzie looks, or at least I tried to, and when she didn't do the face I figured I should forgo ayy woahing out of the room.

"Ok, so I'll, like, email a video of me doing some sounds?"

"That'd be great."

"Cool," I smiled again. "Thanks, see ya later!"

And with that I made myself stride away, desperately hoping she didn't have the time to look up the footage of my practice press release. f*ck you, past Greg, you f*ck head. You're a f*cking sh*t head.

"It's capture the hostage. The PRT has them protected somewhere in the building and it's up to us to retrieve them, and bring them back to this location, unharmed."

Weld jabbed his finger at a spot of the schematic in front of us and looked at us expectantly. I was pretty sure I could do this myself. When nobody said anything he continued.

"They have Big Dog and Trick on their side, does anyone have any suggestions?"

"How about I do it," I raised my hand, ignoring the throbbing vein in my temple.

"Do what?"

"It," I gestured broadly. "By myself, the whole thing."

"Greg," Weld sighed. "This is a team exercise, you're not doing it by yourself."

"I'ma do it," I subtly glanced at everyone to see what they thought, but they didn't look too impressed. Whatever, they'd be impressed, I'd make sure of it.

"Come on, I know it's a bit early," Weld continued as though I couldn't do it by myself, and save everyone the hassle. "But you're not always going to get to work during the afternoon in the Protectorate, someone has to do the night shifts."

God, I hated night shifts, especially like the one I just got through at the ER. I totally got Amy on a spiritual level right now; how she dealt with all that sh*t with so little INT I'd never know.

"Well, my pre-cog is giving out nonsense," Roulette yawned into her hand. "Can we just storm the building? We have enough manpower, right?"

"We stormed the building last time, and we got our asses kicked," said Scops, and she was probably going to say something else, but I spoke over her.

"And last time you didn't have me. I'm not joking when I say I can do this by myself, I'm going to be Triumvirate," I stood up and slapped the table. "And if you don't believe me, may your heads be stricken from your shoulders for such disloyalty!"

"Bro, you're not even that fast," Reynard kicked at my foot under the table. "Alexandria can go, like, Mach five, and she's the slowest. Realistically, wouldn't it be more like dudes like Myrrdn and Chevalier and Narwhal, power gap, you and Dragon, power gap, them?"

I shot him a dirty look.

"And besides, don't you have to be able to fly?" he continued, like the stupid furry he was. "I'm pretty sure that's a pre-requisite."

"f*ck you!" I stormed out of the room. Who did that nigg* think he was, Missy? You didn't have to fly to be Triumvirate! That wasn't a rule, I checked. There were no rules, you just had to be a baller par excellence, which I would be. Six f*cking months, I was a fat little chode who could barely outrun Tattletale just six months ago, and look at me now. I scoffed internally, they'd understand soon enough, and then they'd say, 'oh, we were wrong, you will be Triumvirate, I guess'.

I cracked my neck as I walked out of our building, and stole into the shadows. I'd show them for doubting me.

The building with the hostage was only just around the corner from where we were set up, on a PRT/Protectorate owned training facility, somewhere in an otherwise unused part of Boston's outskirts. I Hazed and peeked around the corner. Lots of sentries, given that Reynard could hide the whole group under a blanket illusion, but I could exploit that. Reynard was ground-bound, I wasn't. I drew back around and dropped my Haze, casting Mana adhesion in its stead before scaling the wall at my back.

I slipped over the lip of the roof and rolled diagonally across until I was roughly in the centre. I Hazed, and from there it was but a hop, skip and a jump and I was sailing through the air over the road and all the guards heads.

It had taken a little bit for me to truly get what Grace was, but when I had, oh boy. It was a Breaker effect that let me take a tiny sh*t on things like gravity, friction and momentum.

It slowed my fall as I neared the roof and I fell into a roll as I hit, barely a sound, landing exactly where I wanted to. I mentally reviewed the schematics, there was no roof access but if I went a bit to my right roughly about… I shuffled a few yards… here, there should be the third-floor room almost directly above the second-floor hostage location.

I conjured a saw (which killed my Haze) and sent it ablaze with writhing arcs. That done I eyeballed the hole I was going to cut, making sure it was big enough for two and scraped the saw along my imaginary lines, wincing at the noise it made as it sank into the concrete. Slowly, carefully, I cut a rough square hole, every scrape and pop and electric whine setting my teeth on edge.

Ah, rookie f*cking mistake, Greg. You didn't even check the room. Baka baka baka.

The cubular chunk of roof slipped as I was making my final cuts, the still attached edges unable to hold its weight, and it almost got out of reach before my hand snaked out and it vanished into my inventory. I dropped through the hole, saw turning into smoke and dust as I released my hold on its mana, and surveyed the area; lots of dust and sh*t from the ceiling. Note to self, fix that next time I break in through the roof.

I slunk over to put my back to the door, extending a thin tendril of near see-through smoke through the gap at the bottom. I carefully swept it back and forth along the hallway at shin level, and not feeling any disturbances, opened the door and slipped through.

Empty, as expected.

I slunk down the hall, my tendril of smoke questing ahead of me, under doors and around the corner, down the stairs; until it hit legs. I wracked my brains, still pretty sure they were standing right outside the room where the hostage was meant to be. sh*t. How was I going to do four simultaneous take-downs quiet enough to avoid raising the alarm? It's not like this was a game where I could throw a rock at them, one by one, and they'd path around a corner, this was super cereal real life.

I felt out their rough positions with the thin smoke, two facing directly away from the door, one looking toward my position and one looking the other way; I was pretty sure. This would be a cinch if I had Reynard, but f*ck that guy. I'd just have to rush them.

I screwed my eyes shut, inhaled deeply, and opened them on the exhale.

I cast Haze and slowly tiptoed down the first flight until I got to the corner, then stepped out into view. I got a brief look at their formation, pretty much what I thought, before the guy watching the stairs leant forward like he was trying to peer through my Haze. I leapt and he flinched, but he had no chance over this distance. My foot hit the floor and in two steps I was in my critical distance, one hand on his hip, one on his neck, Shackling them together.

My momentum carried me through him, twirling into the gap between them and the door; into which the guy I'd just Shackled crashed with a pained cry. In a flash my hands were on the second guy, then the third, then the fourth, sending them toppling to the floor with shoves, Shackled and neutralized.

Damn, I was sick. Who's not worthy of Triumvirate now, huh? fa*gs.

Suddenly their radios lit up with panicked voices.

"They are outside the VIP room, I repeat, they are outside the VIP room!"

I rolled my stupid eyes. There goes the alarm bonus, well done Greg, you failed me yet again. I sighed, onward and upward.

I positioned myself in front of the door, jumped, and kicked out with both feet. The door practically splintered, hanging on with one hinge, giving me a glimpse of Big Dog, Trick and who I could only assume was the hostage before I smoked the room. My Shield was already cast before my feet hit the floor, immediately flinging whatever trap Trick had set up aside as I barreled in.

I felt my smoke get swept aside as Big Dog activated his aura, around himself, Trick and the hostage.

"Oh, give me a f*ckin' break, Dog," I whined. "Take that thing down."

The aura gingerly swiped a paw through where I was throwing my voice, "no way, man," Big Dog shouted wildly. "Just give up!"

I felt my foot depress something as I slowly circled them, a pressure plate. There was a muffled bang and I reflexively shielded, dodging backward as Big Dog took another swipe at me, tinkertech glue spraying the room from the hidden mine.

I didn't have time for this f*cking sh*t! I stood stock still, trying to figure out where the glue had spread through my smoke, but I didn't have the precision. I was going to run out of mana if this kept up, so, like, f*ck it, I guess.

I leapt high, landing on the back of the dog aura, right hand poised to strike. There was a brief wail of electricity as I punched down, Arc Blade cast for the moment of contact before being released again. I struck again, and again, each blow showering sparks on the ghostly, green fur that began to crack and deform under my fists. There was a moment after a strike where the construct shuddered, and vanished out from under me, letting me drop next to them; and that was it. Two quick taps and they were lying bonelessly on the ground, paralysed.

"Just imagine that was one of my harder hits and play dead… oh sh*t!"

A dozen heavy footsteps rattled the floor, the PRT must have decided they'd faffed about for long enough and that they should come and protect the hostage. I reached out toward the doorway, a thin line of solid mana extending from a fingertip, blossoming into a wafer-thin, bumpy wall, that from the other side would look exactly like a stack of claymore mines.

Ok, so, plan? Plan. Good brain.

Big Dog and Trick had started struggling as soon as the paralysis wore off so I hit them with it again, "dudes, just chill, pretend you're KO'd, capiche? And you…" I eyed the presumed hostage. Clearly, his role in this exercise wasn't important to him, because it wasn't showing up on his bio. "Play along."

Ok, time to try something new.

I moved quickly under the pressure of incoming jackboots, sliding Trick into a corner and hitting him with a Haze, before turning to Dog who was thankfully mostly still. Mana disguise said it was meant for me, but that could go f*ck itself. I tapped a finger to his shoulder and worked through the process of it in my mind.

Itshouldwork just the same as casting Haze on something that wasn't myself.

"Where's everyone else?" Norman asked, voice muffled by the floor, turning his head to look up at me plaintively as voices argued on the other side of my fake claymore wall.

"I bet them that I could do this myself, now shush, I'm thinking."

Thinking. So, disguise other. I ran through what made a disguise for myself, how the mana moved, where it moved, what it moved to. There was a point where, after being initially shaped the mana would spread over me, so all I should have to do is interrupt that point and redirect the flow.

I cast, and as expected, laying before me was another me.

f*ckin' mint, ayy!

I grabbed the hostage, who submitted gamely and Disguised myself as Big Dog, aura covering the both of us. It wouldn't hold up if someone bumped me too hard, but I only had to get so far.

Game time. Five mana left, and a dream.

The claymore wall burst into a puff of smoke as I released my hold on it.

"Thank god," I worked my mouth around Norm's voice and dragged the hostage forward. "You're here. I managed to defeat Dark Smoke Puncher, but the others could be anywhere! We need to change location!"

The troopers parted like the red sea as I hustled forward, casting fearful glances behind me. I was making it, and I made it halfway through them before a loud voice called out.

"Hold on, what's your pass-phrase?"

It was at this point my Disguise popped because I ran out of mana. Why had I run out of mana? The only thing I had chewing it up was… the Haze. f*ck you, Fred.

I hoisted the hostage onto my shoulders and bolted, shoving troopers aside like children as I dashed for the first-floor stairs. I drifted around the corner, hearing con-foam splatter on the wall behind me, feet hammering the floorboard until I took the whole stairwell in two steps; one to jump off the top and one to push off the wall and bounce the other way.

The first floor was empty, all available troops having gone upstairs, but surely the door guards were still there. Well, I'd like to see them hit me. I slowed down a little, measuring my steps, and booted the door that led to outside, turning it to splinters like the other. The two door guards, who were indeed still there, shouted in surprise as I barreled past them with all the gravity of a mag-lev freight train. They might have tried to stop me, but I wasn't looking back, I was getting the f*ck back to the finish line.

Even with a full-grown guy on my shoulders, I was still hitting speeds faster than an Olympic athlete, they weren't catching up. I sucked in great breaths as I ran, back around the wall I'd first climbed up, and around the corner into our building. I let myself slow down to a power walk just before I opened the door to our building and bustled through to the planning room. I gave my head a little shake, put the hostage (who didn't really seem like he'd enjoyed the ride at all) down and opened the door.

Sveta: don't treat weldy like that you retardhes been through so much already

I read through her message for the fifth time in the last hour, then inventoried my phone again. I knew that, but what aboutmyproblems. Being this awesome wasn't easy, no matter how effortless I made it look, and it didn't help that I was already 'upset' for vague, nondescript reasons.

I hopped along the roof, away from the encroaching rumble of motorcycles, following the new nagging feeling deep in my brain as it led me to the tag I'd put on Mouse Protector. I jogged down a wall and jumped to land next to her, causing her to vanish, the tag nag in my head informing me she went somewhere pretty far away to my right.

"Question," I said, as she teleported back to me, which was ok because there were no windows nearby. "Who was in the wrong here? So yesterday, Bastion gets all up in my grill about something I'd done, like really yelling at me; so I transform into a Latino guy-"

Mouse laughed jeeringly, "that's my boy!"

"And then I give him one of these!"

{Mexican Fiesta.wav}

From what little I could see of her face it looked like Mouse just nutted hard, her knees giving out as great giggles wracked her shoulders. She managed to keep her feet by staggering into a wall and bracing herself against it.

"You know, they told me to give you a lecture on this sh*t," she gasped, turning her head away to lift her mask and scrub her face with a sleeve. "And whatever it was you did in some stupid group exercise, but don't you ever stop, you precious cinnamon bun."

I grinned at the praise, but I was pretty sure Mouse was trying to double bluff me or something. She was telling me to continue misbehaving, but that was wrong, and surely Mouse couldn't really be telling me to do the wrong thing. Mouse protector was basert et rougepilled, so this had to be a trick to get me to think about this and straighten up and fly right. I could get her condoning making fun of Bastion for saying the Spic word, but not f*cking over my homies. MP weren't like that.

I was very smart. God bless my huge INT, but why was Sveta on the list? If my power wanted me to give that bitch my rare armour set as an apology, I f*cking would. Even though I hadn't played PROT for ages it was still going to hurt, I'd spent so long getting the whole set via drops with a point zero zero zero something percent drop rate, but if that was what it took to apologise then by god, I would.

"Thanks, Mouse," I grinned again, a pure sunny grin as purpose took a hold of my soul. "Really. I knew I could count on you."

I'd make all the apologies as heartfelt as I could, even the one to Bastion, because even he didn't deserve… I was pretty sure this was what happened, they didn't deserve me being not-awesome to them. That was something that not-awesome heroes did, like Bastion, but even though he was not-awesome it didn't mean I could be not-awesome to him.

I was going to see that Yamada lady Weld recommended soon, I should bring all this up with her.

If there was one problem on never being able to get worse at anything, it was that I couldn't backtrack on realising I was not-awesome too. f*ck you, past me, you deluded fa*ggot, I hope you appreciate this.

"Heh, no problem, kid," Mouse continued because she couldn't read my mind and didn't understand the gravity of what just occurred. "It's also extra funny since I'm pretty sure that Bastion is Jewish."

He was, but I wasn't sure why that made it funny.

I glanced over my shoulder as the sound of bikes grew closer, "do you think they know we're leading them into a trap? I get that they're inbred meth-heads, but even for Fallen goons this is pretty bad."

"Then this will be a learning experience on never underestimating how stupid people like this can be," Mouse bounced herself off the wall and took off up the alleyway, leaving me to lope easily alongside her. "Trust me, laddie, they fall for it hook, line and sinker every god damn time."

I glanced over my shoulder again and shook my head. We were getting close to the area the PRT said they'd meet us when we called in we were being tailed, and it was the most obvious trap area to be led into; from the backstreets into an open space with lots of ambush cover. I was very disappointed with them, how did the Fallen expect to be my nemesis if they were so dumb? Very sad.

We hustled into the ambush site and my Urban Tracking skill automatically pointed out all the very obvious signs that the PRT was here and waiting, signs I apparently should fully expect the Fallen bikies to miss. I internally sighed, and cast Clone.

"I'ma go hide," I said to Mouse who was alternating between scanning the area and trying out poses. "And then you can tell Armstrong you chewed me out and kept me safe."

"Thanks, kid," Mouse ruffled my hair vigorously. "You're a peach."

Heh, I'd rather get me some of that mouse peach, I didn't say.

Miraculously, my mouth stayed shut long enough for me to skedaddle behind some cover whereupon I mumbled the line to myself. Thank god, it sounded terrible out loud. I desperately needed game if I was going to marry Mouse Protector, I had to out-compete all the Chads vying for her coveted hand.

The bikies rolled in like thunder, all leather pants and beards and sad Observe bios giving sob stories as to why they were pulling guns out of holsters to point at a fifteen-year old whose only crime was posting a video on Twitter.

"Can we do this quick? I have a large amount of music to illegally download." My thrown one-liner was sadly drowned out by the hail of gunfire that burst my clone like a pinata. Somehow it took the PRT busting into view for them to realise it was a trap, but bikes didn't work when they were clogged with con-foam.

I bit at my thumbnail, shaking my head to get rid of the gunfire. There were just too many reflective surfaces in this ambush site, seriously, what ambush site needed reflective surfaces? The answer was none, and it would do the PRT good to remember that.

Something suddenly appeared right beside me, carrying my tracker tag, and I screwed up my eyes and balled my fists as I manually resumed breathing.

It was just Mouse Protector.

Just Mouse, and she wasn't a g*rman. I checked.

Being a hero f*cking sucked.

"I haven't listened to it yet, just scrolled through the playlist, but some of it looks good. I've heard Oh Woah Godrays are fantastic, though."

Weld mispronounced the name as he prattled on about the pros and cons of my apology gift, but that was fine, his name was checked off the list which meant I did it right.

"But I've never even heard of Paleowave, or Gregorian House, where do you even find this stuff?"

"I have ways," I simpered. "And an enormous amount of free time, which is still driving me insane, by the way."

I was pretty sure that at some point before I took my memory perk and became unable to forget anything even if I wanted to, I was happy to have my life be an MMO grindfest, but now? I didn't want to do any of it, even though it was gonna make me the prime badass one day, I couldn't bear to even have my Total Enhancement spell running at a fraction of a per cent effectiveness at all times to ensure consistent spell experience without outpacing my mana regen. Like, that was basic stuff. Even my resolution to do more pushups while waiting for stuff had fallen by the wayside; all I ever did anymore was wait. Wait for everyone to wake up. Wait for the days to be let outside. Wait for my mandatory schooling hours to be over. Wait for work. Wait for work to be over.

Endless waiting until I could go back home.

Man, f*ck Coil. I was going to sucker punch that duck if I ever saw him, sick the Empire onmewill he? f*cker better be ready for the storm.

"I know, buddy," Weld leaned consolingly closer as we walked. "I had to explain all that to Armstrong and Bastion, that you didn't mean to hurt anyone, that you're just under a lot of stress, what with the attacks on you and everything, and how your power makes it harder to cope with being cooped up on base all day. It's why you're not in more trouble, but can you just do me a solid on this one? Talk to me. Tell me what's up, because I know you don't like hurting people, even accidentally. So let me know, and I'll try and swing something so you can get out and vent a little stress, ok?"

I guess they never miss, huh? Maybe I was the duck. I felt my Acting skill tell me I was acting like a little bitch right now. Just take the hand, Greg.

"Thanks, man, I just… That's why I'm apologising to everyone, 'cause I feel like a huge fa*ggot," I shrugged. "It's just hard, man. Lotta sh*t."

Like the end of the world, and I can't even tell you where you're from.

Weld sighed, because I was a government hero and I'd just said the word 'fa*ggot' out loud in a children's hospital.

"And we really appreciate you apologising, just as I would appreciate if you-"

"Kept the language setting appropriate, yes, I know. I only had to do the PR training course a half dozen times. Sorry. My memory is perfect, I don't know why I keep slipping."

"Just try extra hard today, please, the last thing we need is one of these kids recording you dropping the F, C or N-Bombs."

I was about to ask, 'what if they dropped one first?', but bit it back. That was what I was trying to get away from. The old Greg. I wanted his happiness, but none of his fa*ggotry.

"You got it, chief. I owe it to you to not Faberge up today, I'm not that much of a Constable of Nicaragua."

I was ninety-nine per cent sure Weld melted part of his face inside to stop himself from smiling.

"Even thatsh too far," he said like his mouth was full of liquid mercury because I was definitely funny. "Now come on we've gotsh work to do."

We walked into the cancer ward, the most cancerous of wards, and it became pretty obvious where we were supposed to go, what with all the balloons and streamers outlining one door a little down the way.

I cracked my neck sickeningly; time to get this party started right.

{MLG Air horn}
{MLG Air horn}
We strutted into the room of cancerous children-
{MLG Air h-}
{MLG A-}
{MLG Air horn}

-and I announced our arrival.

Weld kicked my foot disapprovingly and took an extra step forward, "hey, I hope we're not late."

I Observed the sea of bald children as the head nurse came and greeted Weld, and yep, they definitely had cancer. Poor chitlins, but, I was certain that one day I could either cure that or cut it out in a five minute surgery. Please wait warmly, children, while I saved the world first.

I gave a sixteen CHA equivalent smile, "and I'm-"

{Dark Smoke Pun-cher!}
{Guitar riff}

"Dark Smoke Puncher, how are we all doing today?"

The assembled children looked astounded, like they couldn't decide whether me being able to make guitar noises was cooler than Weld being metal, but I was cooler, and they had to understand that. A plan unfolded in my mind, it was time.

"Are we ready to have some fun?" I glanced at Weld and the nurse, readying my Disguise spell for any choice, with their ambivalent expressions on the subjects of children and fun. "Who here likes memes, backflips and battle royale games?"

Quest 'Make a wish' complete!
Success: 15 000xp, increased reputation with Weld, increased reputation with the public

"You really nailed that," Weld said, sounding almost insultingly perplexed. "Since when were you good with kids?"

I stretched a bit, loosening my seatbelt, "did you know I haven't juggled in six months?"

"No, why?"

The Boston city scenery crawled by outside the PRT van window, a sea of concrete and meat and dreams. Dreams I'd forgotten because I wasn't being myself, myself.

"Before I joined the Wards, to get away from Coil, I did street performances. That was my thing, my show was 'The Fiendish Dr. Wu and his Kung-Fu trickery'. I'd juggle and blow some smoke and everyone would clap, and then give me money. I had this whole plan of getting famous, and going on shows like Ultimate Cape Warrior, and play Capeball, and host the academy awards, like," I sighed and looked at the floor. "I'd forgotten about all of that, I was so wrapped up in my own hype and the idea of being Triumvirate that I forgot; all I wanted to do was entertain."

"That's great!" Weld jostled his huge metal frame around to face me. "If that's your thing we have tons of resources for it, being a Ward doesn't mean you can't do anything else. Everyone at the top would probably be thrilled to have you do some promo work that gets you a bit further away from combat, god knows you need to, I've never seen a Ward with so many," Weld stopped himself for a moment, then continued in a deliberately delicate voice like I was made of glass. "Attempted murders on them."

I exhaled loudly through my nose, "yeah. I do inspire a lot of murderous rage for some reason. I still want to be Triumvirate though, which means fighting. Can you imagine if Eidolon couldn't kick ass? And anyway, I still need to beat up Armsmaster next week."

"Why do you need to beat up Armsmaster? Isn't he, like, the last person you need to beat up?"

"You'd think, but it's a quest thing. And he's kind of a douche, so, I feel decking him one will be pretty cathartic."

I turned away and hid a gag at the phantom smell of blood, before realising I was looking at a window, so I turned back to Weld only to realise he was basically a walking mirror.

"Pretty cathartic indeed," I smiled blandly and crossed my arms, pressing my fingers into my side, hidden from Weld.

-1
-2
-3

…

-5

18th March 2011- Jessica Yamada

"Hi, Jess!" the boy plonked himself down into the chair across from her, looking faintly ridiculous. The contrast between the round, rosy-cheeked smiling face of a young boy with thealmostdisproportionately muscular body it was sitting on top of made for an odd picture.

"Good morning," she smiled back at him. "Sorry to do this so early in the day, but it was the only slot you could fit into for the next while."

"Hey, no worries, I barely need to sleep anyway, so it's all G."

A recent occurrence, according to the profile she had been given. The boy was a Trump, the kind that grew. The poor thing. Interestingly, she had also heard this from another patient of hers, Sveta. The two were internet friends. Small world.

"Lucky that our schedule's aligned then isn't it… Which name do you prefer, Greg or Dark Smoke Puncher?"

"Call me Greg, Jess, everyone does." Greg gave himself the kind of smile that suggested he was having some kind of private joke over this introduction.

"Greg, then. How are you feeling today, Greg?"

"I'm pretty good, hey, but, uh, did they tell you I was here for? So I know what you want to talk about."

"We can talk about anything you like, this is a judgement free space," Jessica crossed her legs and smoothed out an errant wrinkle in her skirt. "However, we can start from wherever you feel comfortable out of some of your recent troubles."

Greg nodded contemplatively, almost gravely. "I was almost murdered by Gesellschaft after Coil framed me for outing Empire capes because I wouldn't join his gang, so I don't appreciate that."

Jessica pushed down the reflexive urge to disbelieve because something in the way he said it made it sound like a bald-faced lie; despite that, it actually happened.

"And Accord threatened to kill me a while back because Coil told him I'd out all his moles in the PRT, and just the other day some Fallen goons tried to kill me which I really don't deserve. All I did was post some videos about the Simurgh, fa*ggots can't take a joke."

She opened her mouth to respond, but Greg cut her off.

"Also, the world is ending, so I'm pretty bummed about that."

Jessica blinked.

"Because of the Endbringers," Greg continued after a brief pause. "But that's common knowledge."

"I…" Jessica hesitated, scanning his guileless face. "Don't think that's common knowledge. I certainly wouldn't be surprised if it were true, however."

"Well, it's pretty obvious when you have a read through of the files that everything is going to be pretty much over in about twenty years, and I don't like that kind of thing."

"I see," Jessica made a quick note for whoever had the next session with him to ask about his possible tendency to hide his feelings behind a glib facade. "Those are some pretty big worries you have, could you clarify for me though, I'm not aware of who Coil is."

"Oh, right, he's a Brockton local villain. Pretty small time, he's got some mercs and a group called the Undersiders," Greg shook his head, leaning back to settle deeper into his chintz armchair. "So back before I wanted to be a Ward, I did street performances, juggling and sh*t, it was great. Anyway, so I was there one day doing my thing and one of his Undersiders, Tattletale, walks up and hands me a fresh hundy. Which, y'know, great,exceptshe works for Coil and tries to get me to join him; so I hightail it out of there and sign up to be a Ward so he can't merc me. Only then I find out he has some moles in the PRT, so I help Armsmaster get them arrested, and I guess he took exception to that? So anyway, that's Coil and his beef with me, he totally overreacted in trying to have me killed."

"I definitely understand why you don't appreciate that, I've never enjoyed when someone petty has kept a grudge against me even though I was doing the right thing. You've brought Coil up several times so far, is he the largest of your worries?"

"No, that would be the end of the world," Greg gave her a funny little look. "He's just some tard with a tard-on for getting rid of me. But, I get what you mean, end of the world is too big, how about: I'm pretty much on house arrest to keep me safe, and I've run out of sh*t to do, and this makes me stir crazy."

"We absolutely can talk about the world ending, none of your problems are too big to talk about here."

"Nah, it's not like there's anything more to say about it. Worlds ending, it sucks, like what can you even say to that besides, 'yeah, it totally does'?"

Jessica flinched as her voice suddenly came out of Greg's mouth, she'd heard hours of recordings of herself, and she couldn't discern any difference. Greg made a slightly apologetic face and continued.

"I'm going back to Brockton for the day to see Armsmaster soon, so I'll bring it up with him. He's doing this early Endbringer warning system thing with Dragon, so I bet he knows."

"That's a good step to take, just remember that you needn't worry about sharing anything with me, or one of my colleagues, because you feel the problem might be too much for us. Sometimes, even just saying it out loud can help."

"Well that was my biggest problem," Greg grinned. "And I already told you about how I don't like that people keep trying to kill me, so, um… I want to marry Mouse Protector, but I think she's kind of crazy. Like, bad crazy, but she's so cool, have you met her?"

"I haven't, but I feel like I should point out that it would be illegal to engage in that sort of relationship with Mouse Protector."

"Yeah," Greg drawled, rolling his eyes around the room. "That's what my dad said about Miss Militia when I told them I wanted to marry her."

Jessica made a note about a potential likeliness to form unachievable romantic attachments to avoid having to deal with following through.

"Well, it sounds like he has his head on straight. I understand your parents are still in Brockton Bay, do you see them often?"

"Not really, which kinda sucks. But they face-time me all the time, so I know they're doing ok, and I'll see them again in, like, a few days anyway," Greg kicked his feet up and a plush footstool appeared from nowhere to receive them. "But that's just how it's gotta be, and honestly I much prefer this to being in Coil's fiddle basem*nt being beaten by hobos with rusty pipes for physical resist levels."

"Are you worried that Coil will try to kidnap you?"

"Well, not really. But I've seen a picture of the guy, he's got this stupid morph suit looking thing with a snake on it, and you can't tell me a guy who dresses like that isn't a weird f*cker; probably into sh*t like tile patterns. Real worry though is him kidnapping my parents, because with Tattletale he made her an offer she couldn't refuse," Greg mimed holding a gun sideways, gangster style. "But Emily promised they'd be safe."

"Emily?"

"Director Piggot," Greg rolled his eyes. "But that sounds way too formal. Do you think that when I graduate to the Protectorate I'll have to call her that?"

"Probably, the PRT is a government institution in the same vein as the police, and the chain of command is important to keep so that things can keep running smoothly. But I'm sure you could still address her as Emily outside of work, you needn't remain in your work mindset all the time, downtime is important," Jessica tapped her pen thoughtfully against her notebook. "You mentioned earlier you felt a little stir-crazy, how have you been spending your downtime?"

Greg breathed out heavily, vibrating his lips. "With how my power works, I have to practice for each individual power to get stronger, and every time they do I have to work harder to get the next improvement; so that takes up a lot of my time. Or it used to, I think I'm getting a bit burnt out on that. I spend a lot of time just on the net, on forums and sh*t, uh, I used to play a lot of video games and watch a lot of anime. Sometimes I'll work on college course work, but it's barely any harder than high-school so I just cram everything into the night before the assignments are due and still get top marks. I don't really do a lot else, just hang around."

"Have you considered a creative hobby?" Jessica wrote 'depressed?' on her notepad. "Like writing, or drawing? Perhaps joining a social club?"

"I've sometimes thought about making internet parodies."

"That sounds like it could be interesting, what would it entail?"

"Well, for some of the ideas I've had, you take a show, edit and dub over it in such a way that its a parody of the original; but, like, ironically sh*t and full of memes."

"I don't quite understand, but it sounds like a fun creative pursuit."

Greg leant forward, the footstool vanishing as he smoothly stood up, a smartphone appearing in his hand. "I'll show you," he said, typing rapidly before shoving it in front of her face.

She watched blandly as poorly voice acted cartoon characters shouted nonsensically at each other while things caught fire for no reason.

"It's funny, right?" Greg's grin widened at each 'punchline' until it threatened to split his face.

"It's not to my taste, but there is clearly an audience for it if these are already being made. Earlier, you copied my voice, can you do that with other voices?"

The phone vanished back into non-existence as Greg returned to his chair, "any voice I can imagine, like how about my 'space alien whose voice translator is stuck on five-year-old girl but she's a southern trucker mode and all he wants to do is probe terrestrial life' voice?"

She wanted to tell him that was disturbing, and that he should never do it again, but professionalism prevailed.

"That was spot on, if this was a phone call I would have thought someone else was in the room. I don't think you'll have any trouble making these parody videos of yours, if anything you'll have the advantage by being able to play the whole cast yourself."

"And do the sound effects!"

Jessica flinched as glass shattered, a bomb went off, someone screamed and tribal drums briefly played in quick succession, loudly and from Greg.

"Sorry," said Greg. "That spell always defaults to max loudness. But that reminds me of some things you can help me with. So, usually I can't cast two spells at once, but I did it once and now I can't figure out how to get it to work again."

"I've had others tell me that, in moments of great stress, or when they feel trapped and helpless, their power increases. Did this happen during the incident with Gesellschaft you mentioned?"

"No, it was the other day in a training thing, I didn't even think about it until after that about how weird it was that I just had two spells going at once."

"That's fairly consistent with what I've heard, it all happens in the moment and doesn't become apparent until afterwards. Would you like to talk about the training exercise?"

"Sure."

"I understand you got a minor disciplinary strike on your record, this isn't meant to sound accusatory. How do you feel about that?"

"Oh, I deserved it," Greg said, airily, waving a dismissive hand. "It was a teamwork thing, not a Greg do this yourself thing; even though I totally nailed it. It was actually pretty awesome, even though I did accidentally hurt a guy but he was fine when I went to go apologise the other day. Quick question, when Dauntless and I are in the Triumvirate do you think they'll rename it to the Pentumvirate?"

"I don't think they will, brand recognition is important. Again, this isn't meant to be an accusation, would you like to tell me how it happened? That you accidentally hurt that man?"

"He was guarding a door I had to go through," Greg's shoulders made a minute, uncomfortable shuffle. "My Brute Strength is still a bit new sometimes, so when I shoved him he fell a few degrees earlier than I calculated and landedjuston the wrong part of his shoulder; but he's fine now."

Jessica nodded understandingly, should she try and push this a little further? It seemed to be going almost unrealistically well so far, considering underage parahumans, but pushing too hard in a first session could irrevocably damage his trust in sessions to come.

"I did also want to talk about that," Greg mumbled, surprising her, voice wavering from smooth and deep to something a little nasalier and grating. "I was a bit grumpy that day, and the guy didn't deserve that and I feel like a huge tard. And then with Bastion a few days ago, he was being an aggro douche to me, so I start mocking him for ruining his career by being racist in public, and like, just because he's an asswipe doesn't mean I should be one back, right?"

"It's never nice when someone takes their frustrations out on you, and particularly upsetting when you're wholly undeserving. It was the right thing to do to make amends for accidentally hurting someone due to your bad mood, it was very big of you. While it's understandable to fire back when someone is aggressively getting on your case it's important to remember there are better ways to resolve conflict. If you like, I can arm you with some tools for when a situation like that occurs again?"

"That would probably be useful for another situation I have," Greg said glibly. "So I have this friend back home, and I kinda sorta accidentally caused her trigger event."

Jessica blinked in shock for a moment, wondering how on earth you couldaccidentallydo that, before her brain kicked into high gear. "Was it a straw that broke the camel's back scenario?"

"Yes!" Greg clicked, shooting her a finger gun. "I completely underestimated how much she hated this other girl, so when I try prank her with my voice acting she flips out. Now she hates me and I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm a Nazi, which is hella ironic, so I need to find a way to not have her try kill me when I say hi next. Which is probably going to happen, 'coz there's this new cape I was reading about on the Brockton threads who fits her profile, except I never really took her for the violent vigilante type, and I'm kinda worried she's going to get herself killed."

"This is quite serious."

"I know! Can you imagine her shock when she finds out I'm actually Dark Smoke Puncher?" Greg shook his head sadly. "Anyway, can you write me up a script to use when I see her next?"

"I can't write you a script," Jessica's mouth creased at the thought. "What I can do is talk you through some modes of thought you can use to come up with the most suitable answers."

"Yeah, ok," Greg shrugged, kicking his feet up onto the reappearing footstool. "I guess that works too."

Jessica watched as Greg strutted from her office, a sudden draining tiredness coming over her. It had seemed like an almost impossibly good first session, he was forthcoming with information on whatever she asked, despite not going too deeply into things, (like how he was actually dealing with his problems,) and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that this hadn't helped him in the slightest.

19th March 2011- Taylor Hebert

"Daddy, no!"

The roidmonkey skinhead whimpered, tears tracking over his iron cross facial tattoos as he cringed into the filth of the alley's concrete ground. Taylor crouched across from him, the ragged ribbon-like ends of her trench coat coiling in the muck as the anguish of the city throbbed in tune with her heartbeat.

"I'll be a good boy," the man wheezed, nearly broken, ready to be rebuilt.

She raised her cigarette and worked it through the crooked mouth hole of her mask, inhaling deeply. All you have to do is tell me where he is, she thought, imbuing the command into her power. The man ground his face into the concrete, skinning his head, tormented by the phantoms of his mind.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know, I don't know him. I haven't heard anything, I swear to God!"

Swear to me.

"I swear, father! I don't know!"

Taylor exhaled, staring down at the man dispassionately, bathing him in smoke. He was probably telling the truth. She left him there, grovelling in the muck. Under her heel, where he should be.

She walked long enough to finish her cigarette, flicking the smouldering butt onto the road. She needed new leads, leads who weren't the stereotypical thug. Their kind wasn't told anything.

Her tongue snaked out, tasting the fear. One was flying through her range at terrifying speeds, but it wasn't a new fear. Dauntless. Not the most complex man. Now Armsmaster, she licked her lips, now there was a guy. A second set of worries burst into her mind, new ones this time, she glanced skyward at the shooting star chasing the trails of sparks.

Purity? She revelled in the tumultuous stew of the woman's heart, opening her up. Clawing her way into the darkest corners of her soul. Loved ones, and control. Things she wanted to keep, things she'd kill to keep. Taylor raised her hand to her mouth and licked the pad of her thumb. Despicable.

Purity toppled out of the air, her light flickering until she caught herself and hovered. Even from this distance, Taylor could feel her cry. There was a blast, so bright it left spots in her eyes, a beam that scythed into the night sky and severed the cloud cover. And then Purity turned tail and left, skin crawling at the thought of Kaiser.

Hey, Taylor thought, maybe they'd kill each other?

She almost chuckled at the thought as she flagged Dauntless. One sad limitation of her power was that she couldn't talk to someone though it. She felt him draw closer, following the hallucinations, and he soon landed in front of her all shiny and brave, a golden centurion out to save the day.

"Scarecrow," he said, measuredly lowering his Arclance to pointalmostat the ground while looking somewhere off to Taylor's left where he thought she was. "Was that your work just now?"

You're welcome.

"Yes, thank you-"

I'd like an update.

Dauntless sighed a sigh that would be inaudible if Taylor was where he thought she was. "We still haven't heard of whoever it is you're after. As far as we know, no such person exists."

Have you tried trying harder?

"If he's out there, Scarecrow, he hasn't shown up on any radar. The Empire has a big turnover rate, he's probably not even in the city anymore."

He's here, and Iwillfind him.

Dauntless sighed for real this time, marching up to my hallucination. "Come down to the Rig, it's not safe for you to be out here like this. They're going to kill you."

He grabbed but came up with air, and Taylor was already leaving.

"Scarecrow!" he shouted hoarsely, moving about behind her, trying to Marco Polo his way into catching her. Her. Catch her? Never.

Taylor didn't have time to join the Wards, she had a city to save.

It was the things I couldn't say. I just couldn't get myself to tell her, and that in itself spoke volumes. I, Gregory Veder, had a problem.

I turned to look at my reflection in the shop window, holding my own gaze for a moment before pitifully turning away. I'd deal with that one later.

"Yeah, but is she hot though?" Tyrone asked as we swaggered through the Boston main street like we owned the place.

"Are you into freckly, six out of ten nerds?"

"Are we talking a hard six?"

I made a fifty fifty gesture, "maybe a six and a half, I totally would. You should see her sister though, literally a ten. Maybe more… imagine."

"I know," Tyrone said. "I follow her Twitter, plus I've seen that cape upskirt collection site. Those bike shorts, bro."

"Yeah, boi!" I had always known Tyrone was secretly a man of integrity and culture, like myself. "You should see her up close, she's got this power that makes her seem even hotter. Kind of a shame it'll eventually stop working on me."

"What about Narwhal? I wouldn't even care if she left the horn on."

"The amazon look isn't really my thing-"

"Ha, gay!"

I scoffed, "the height difference would be super awkward, she's like, eight feet tall."

"Perfect height," Tyrone mimed grabbing boobs at eye level and rubbing his face in them. "You're just too gay to understand."

"At least I'm not a furry, is that why you're into Narwhal, she'll dress up as an animal for you?"

"Hell yeah I'm furry for Narwhal!"

I shook my head disbelievingly as we stepped into the bookshop, it was kinda admirable to go for Narwhal instead of a more conventional, and better, choice, like Mouse Protector who was a normal height and had no horn.

"So what kind of book are you getting her?"

"Some kind of self help book," I replied as we meandered through the shelves. "With a card that says something like, 'dear nigg*rtron: unf*ck yourself love: greg'. You probably wouldn't think so, but she's kind of a grouchy bitch. So hopefully this'll help her lighten up some."

God, I loved that grouchy bitch. Plus I kind of owed her an enormous amount of favours, so this would go a little of the way into chipping away at that mountain.

"Yeah, I can see it," Tyrone flipped idly through some vegan cookbook. "Slaving away in the hospital all day."

"To be honest, she doesn't workthathard," I said, running my finger along the spines to see what triggered as a skillbook. I probably wasn't going to buy any for myself, but it might be useful to know what I could do if I wanted. Sure, in a perfect world I'd have had the Protectorate buy me hundreds of skillbooks so that I could be even better at everything than I already was, but then I'd have to deal with leveling hundreds of skills. Still, definitely one day.

Tyrone shrugged and swapped his vegan book for a Keto diet one.

My fingers lingered over How to Win Friends and Influence People, bringing up a memory of Colin giving me his treasured copy that I'd never read. I guess it was pretty obvious from the outside.

I started getting a weird feeling like I should probably buy one of these books for myself too. It was a cutting revelation, on par with that time I learned what I'd been feeling all along was shame, that I was cracked. I couldn't say that to Jess, I'd wanted to, and she would have done her absolute best to help me, but I just couldn't; not even for the quest xp. I didn't want to admit it. It was why decking Colin was going to be cathartic, this was partly his fault.

I let Acting activate, as I literally faked not crying so hard it became reality.

"What do you think?" I asked, holding up Awaken the Hero Within. "Would this turn you into a powerhouse of a human?"

Tyrone reached over and grabbled it out of my hand, scanning the blurb. "Sure, should I buy a copy for myself? These books work, right? They wouldn't sell them otherwise."

That logic definitely checked out.

"Why not?" I snagged the book back and spun it on my fingertip, corner first. "It's not like you have anything to spend your pay-cheque on besides Magic cards."

"You don't understand because you kicked the habit, Tyrone needs his booster packs."

"Maybe you can tape a bunch of them to your feet so you can be tall enough for Narwhal."

Tyrone chuckled and started picking over the self help shelves, pulling out books at random and flipping through them. If I was being honest, he probably didn't need them.

I stopped spinning the book, suddenly overcome with an urge to pretend to put it back on the shelf but instead Inventory it. Did I just not want to be seen buying it because self help books were low status? It's not like I ever wanted to shoplift before.

I sank into a crouch, pretending to peruse the bottom row to hide the fact that my legs didn't feel like working. Why did it hurt so much? Was this what everyone with an average WIS score felt like all the time? Surely Observe would have told me if almost everyone was like this, because there was no way this was normal.

Jess was more perceptive than I thought, seeing through my acting. Luckily for me I could read what someone was writing just by the movements of the pen alone otherwise I wouldn't have even considered that I could even possibly be depressed. The thought was kinda surreal.

It was also kinda surreal she thought I wanted to marry Mouse Protector because I would never have to follow through with it, rather than just that Victoria was already dating Dean. The memory brought back a decision I'd made back then, that Menma wouldn't start relationship sh*t-fights, and he also wouldn't wallow in self pity. Well, not that often anyway.

I stood up. I was a problem solver. This weird emotional roller coaster I was going through was just another problem to solve, and the first step in my twelve step plan was punching Armsmaster in his stupid face.

A book caught my gaze, and I put a finger on the spine, reading through the pop-up. Hmm, I wonder what that would do.

Today was the big day, Colin was going to get it. I was pretty prepared, my DEX was still going to be higher than his even if he was going to be stronger, I had some trump cards hidden up my sleeve and he had to go easy on me since I was a Ward.

I savoured the nostalgic feeling as my ride pulled up in the Rig's parking garage, the familiar layout I hadn't seen in over a month. The black SUV rumbled to a stop. I thanked my driver and got out, relishing the slight sway and fresh sea air of the Rig; even if everyoneinBoston was cooler the Rig was cooler than their offices by far.

I let my eyes sweep over the array of high power bikes that those without mover powers took when patrolling the further regions of the city. One day I would have one of my own the second I was sixteen. The hair on my arms raised as I thought about how awesome my bike would be when I gave it the works with a leveled up Mechanics skill, I didn't even know what that could do or look like but I knew it would be f*cking awesome.

And standing next to the bikes, next to his bike reading a magazine, Armsmaster. He hadn't looked up, too absorbed in his copy of Toybox's promotional catalogue to notice I'd been dropped off.

I opened my mouth to call out but the words died on my tongue- that wasn't his normal armour. My fingers tapped a nervous rhythm as I glid through the car-park, I hadgravelyunderestimated his willingness to punch a kid in the face.

"Hey Armsy, should I be flattered you're using your Endbringer spec armour?"

He looked up, flicking his magazine closed with one hand. "Yes. But, Leviathan is next in the rotation, if this suit can't stand up to you then there is no chance in hell I can use it against him, and this is the latest I can run this test due to the expense and rarity of the parts if they get damaged. And keep this to yourself," he took a step forward, leaning in and lowering his voice. "I have something thatwillkill it."

Was that, like, a threat or my power telling me my Kill an Endbringer quest would be over this soon?

"On that note, do you know about the world ending?" I asked, equally quietly.

Armsmaster paused, that kind of millisecond pause you get when someone drops a bit of sensitive information you didn't think they knew and you have no time to decide if you should play it cool or not.

"Who have you been talking to?"

I shook my head, "I read through everything I could on the Endbringers after the Simurgh, the dots weren't hard to connect. Five more big wins, and society collapses."

"Two, actually," Armsmaster said tersely, magazine crumpling in his mechanical fist. "Or three. Never say this out loud again to anyone who isn't in the know, I know you don't understand even one iota of how serious this is, but for once youmustkeep your mouth shut."

I hunched my shoulders as my face burned. I did understand. I'd changed, I wasn't that Greg anymore. I was Greg Part Two: Greg Shippuden; couldn't he see that?

"If this gets out everything we've worked so hard to keep will be lost in the ensuing panic. That's the answer we've gotten from our pre-cogs every time we asked, so for the love of god…" Armsmaster trailed off, holding my gaze imploringly.

"I wasn't going to! You have your warning thing with Dragon so you had to have known, it's just been freaking me out."

Armsmaster's voice, though still terse, softened. "It was a hard pill for me to swallow too, but you can't talk about it, not even to the director. I'm only aware of perhaps ten people who know, and you're unlikely to have a chance to speak to them any time soon. Though you could expect a call from Alexandria in a few years when you graduate, we were going to send you to her initially instead of to Boston and she seemed interested in a power that would only get stronger."

"Yes, I get it," I said mulishly. "Mouth shut, head down."

He paused again, contemplatively this time, head co*cked slightly to the side. "We'll discuss it later, but for now we've got some things to do. Come on."

Yeah, things like feeding your your own arse,bitch; I didn't say as I followed him out of the car park. Treat me like an idiot will he? Well I was the new Greg, and the new Greg didn't have to put up with that. I brooded on all the ways I would make fantastically cutting comebacks to things he often said, like:

[Hello, I'm Armsmaster]
[More like Assmaster! fa*ggot!]

Heh, yeah. That'd show him.

"There was also something I wanted to talk to you about," he said in an uncharacteristically conversational tone as we walked. "Have you ever met a cape by the name of Scarecrow?"

Oh? Taylor, probably, but… oh. Right.

"Technically no, but I know who she is."

"I thought so, she had our sketch artist draw up a very familiar face, claiming he was a Nazi cape. What could you possibly have done to make her tear her way through the lower ranks of the Empire to find you?"

"I, er, may have accidentally caused her trigger event-"

Colin made a sound that may have been either exasperation or pity.

"It was an accident! I guess I was kinda mad at her because she never wanted to be friends with me, but all I did was spook her once with my voice acting as a joke."

"So you assaulted this poor girl with a parahuman power, and now she wants to kill you." Colin looked at me, shaking his head. "How do you get yourself into these messes?"

It wasn't assault! It wasn't! I wouldn't…

"Some people can't take a joke," I said with an airy wave of my hand that banished my tears into non existence; how did people with above ten WIS live like this? "Like those Fallen putzes, worst murder attempt I ever had."

"Have you tried being less annoying?"

[Have you tried being less gay?]

But I didn't say anything like that, I didn't think my Acting was good enough for me to without bursting into tears.

"Sorry," said Colin after a moment. "I was trying to joke around, I didn't mean to upset you."

When I didn't respond he continued.

"I can fully appreciate the stress you're under, my door is always open. Or I can recommend someone. It's not good to keep it in every time someone tries to kill you, I should know."

We walked on in silence, or I did, naturally not making a single rustle as I walked nor did my shoes squeak or tap. In contrast, Armsmaster clanked and whirred so you knew he was coming like a big metal idiot. I bet no one ever tried to kill him when he was fifteen, he didn't know what he was talking about. I lost myself in rumination about how hard done by I was, and how much Colin sucked, and when I zoned back in I realised that I could see the edge of a banner peeking out from the sliver of the room I could see ahead of us, with the two letters I could make out being E and G. So a Welcome Back Greg surprise party or something? That was… everything I'd ever wanted.

I surged forward, more of the sign revealing itself to me…Happy Retirement Greg!(Old Greg, the day janitor who had just had his retirement party and they hadn't taken the banner down, according to Observe.) along with a row of smiling faces, except for Dean who looked appropriately horrified at this shabby display, and Brad who was absent.

"Surprise," said Armsmaster.

I dug deep into the well of prowess my power provided, "I didn't expect this at all! Thank you so much, how have you all been doing?"

Where was my party youanimals!

They gave a chorus of 'yeah, goods', and 'okays', except for Chris who stepped up to give me a fist-bump with his shiny new power-fist. Observe told me it was somewhere between one and a half to twice as powerful, and fisty, as the last time we met.

"Armour's looking great, bro," I turned the fist bump into a bro-hug. "Finally been hitting your stride?"

"It's all just started clicking!" he leant back and, pressing against something on his chest, popped out a segment of armour. "So much easier when I don't have to make a whole thing, just a hundred things that happen to connect. How's Boston been?"

"Good, mostly," I grinned as he plugged his main kinetic distributor back into his chest slot. "Got to stop some of Blasto's monsters with Weld, who's cool as sh*t by the way you should meet Weld, made some viral videos about the Simurgh that made the Fallen hate me, finally met someone who plays Magic, Reynard is also a baller; good times. Anything happen since I've been gone?"

"Some new cape thinks you're E Eighty Eight, and Lung might've just gotten a bomb Tinker, so…" he trailed off significantly.

"Bad news all round, eh?," I clicked my tongue, shaking my head. "Anyone got any good news?"

Vista shrugged.

"Cool," I said, which preceded an awkward silence. "Gimmie a sec, I need to go make a call."

I swaggered away, a single tear running down my face as my back turned. I inventoried the traitorous droplet and took out my phone, hitting One on speed dial. It rang four times before being picked up.

"Hello?"

"Amy!" I crowed. "I'm in town, come down to the Rig."

"Greg, hey. I'm, uh,pretty busyat the moment so I can't make it."

"Oof, sounds serious, but stop being lazy and get over here."

"I really can't, remember that thing I promised you on Simurgh day? I'm in the critical testing stages and can't leave."

I snorted, she was obviously tripping balls.

"Say no more, Big P. I'll be back again eventually, so I'll call you then. Say hi to Vicky for me."

Amy sighed a long suffering sigh that I could still hear a smile in, "OK, I will. Talk to you later. Bye."

God damn it. God f*cking damn it.

I inventoried my phone and walked back over to the group, sidling up to Dean who still looked upset at the lack of any and all welcome back party snacks.

"Could you do me a huge favour?" I asked. "Next time you go over to see Victoria, could you give this to Amy?"

I presented him with her present, neatly wrapped up in shiny pink paper and he grimaced at it sickly.

"Yeah, man, of course I can. Of course," he took the present off me and stood around awkwardly because he was an empath, Greg. He wasn't freaked out because this was a sh*t welcome, and you knew that.

"Thanks, Dean," I flashed him a literally twinkling smile. "I was going to mail it, but I was already here and you're the perfect courier."

"It's no problem, really."

"Cool, so what've you been up to?"

"Not a whole lot," Dean's face scrunched up like he wanted to ask me why I looked like I was dying inside. "My dad keeps trying to get me involved in his company, but I don't know if I want to work there."

"What? No," I said sarcastically. "Just let your rich dad give you a job working in the mail room for a few months before you get that big corner office."

"Come on, you know that's exactly why I don't want it," he said painedly.

I did know that.

"The real reason you shouldn't want it is the incredibly restrictive legislature designed to keep good hardworking Rogues under the boot of the Government, instead of out there providing superior goods and services, which you as a parahuman using your powers to even peripherally advantage your business deals will be subject to. You may as well just do it all illegally."

"Is that your official stance as a civil servant?"

"Obviously," I said. "I'm going to tweet that later."

Dean grimaced and bit at his thumbnail, obviously working up to asking uncomfortable questions I wanted nothing to do with.

"Vista!" I shouted. "What do you think about using your powers to run a business illegally as a vigilante?"

Vista looked up from whatever she was looking at on her phone, and shrugged. f*cking zoomers. And now I had to find another way to avoid Dean bringing up my great internal pain.

"Hey Dennis! I want to train my paralysis resist, hit me with a clock block!"

A cold sort of heaviness began to settle into my limbs as I followed Armsmaster to The Pit. The Fight Pit. The Pit where I would Fight Armsmaster. And by Pit I meant the same well lit, padded room in which I sparred with Gerome.

"Would it have killed you to wear your regular armour?"

"Don't whine, my other suit mightn't have been enough of a challenge for your quest system to flag it. You're going toearnthis, it'll be something you can truly feel proud of tomorrow," Armsmaster looked over his shoulder as we walked across the mats. "I'm taking you seriously in this fight, so don't beat yourself up about it."

My knees wobbled as he turned to face me, Halberd held loosely in his hand. Was he always this scary?

"You call it when you're good to go."

I set my jaw and put on my Armsbeard, "OK. I'm ready."

-32

I retched, stumbling, Shielding, as my lungs tried to escape out my mouth. I couldn't breathe. Was this why everyone else wore armour? Oh god.

I staggered away as fast as I could and almost immediately crashed into a wall.

"Keep moving!" Armsmaster barked. "You're not taking this seriously, you should have dodged that!"

My lungs unstuck with a feeling like I was doused in ice water, and he was right. Halberd ball flail to the gut was a classic Armsmaster opener. I moved in and started cautiously circling at what would normally be someone else's sprint speed, and this time I saw it, the minute tightening of his gauntlet before the ball launched itself at me. I leant out of the way and charged, jinkering left sharply as the light reflecting off the wire tethering the ball to the haft changed, indicating it was retracting at my head. The ball flew past me in my last step before him, and he used the momentum of its reattaching to help swing the butt of the halberd at my face.

Lightning screeched in my hand as I chopped out, far too fast for Armsmaster to react, and took the bottom eight inches of Halberd off like I was chopping through air. The red hot cut end of the halberd missed my face by milimeters as I closed the distance further, but Armsmaster span on the spot, bringing his other elbow around. It crunched into the meat of my forearm as I managed to get my guard up just in time, and stuck there as I hammered his side with punches from my free hand, using our attached arms as leverage every time he tried to turn and counter.

But it wasn't f*cking doing anything! And now my hand hurt. f*cking armour! I slapped him with a Shocking Grasp, to shockingly little effect because he resisted it somehow. I tried blinding him, and deafening, which didn't get past the sensory dampening in his helmet judging by his complete lack of reaction.

A movement at ground level caught in my peripherals and I disengaged before his stomp could shatter my knee, then lashed out with a kick of my own, the ball of my foot catching him right in the jaw; it felt like I was kicking Weld.

f*cking Christ. I was still faster but his god damn armour could take more punishment than I could dish out with a bare fist, and I didn't really want to put my whole hand through his chest.

His Halberd whipped out, missing by a mile as I dempsy rolled and reengaged, my outstretched fingers brushing his face. In an instant a Shackle covered his entire head in ghostly blue steel, binding its movement down to his neck. He moved to rip it off, but I blitzed in with more Shackles, each barely lasting but managing to slow him down-

I flung myself back to avoid the blue/white light bursting from his chestplate, pushing out from him in a sphere, flinging shards of Shackle away as they broke.

He copied my spell? But…

I snarled and lashed out at his Halberd, twelve inch knife appearing in my hand, spitting sparks, and it… froze. As he let go of it, it froze in mid air. My knife, my enhanced electro cutting knife, bounced off the shaft. I stared as he used the frozen Halberd as a vault, and kicked me in the chest with a size fourteen steel boot-

-3

-a grazing shot as I twisted out of the way. I lashed out with the knife again, cutting a long, deep gouge in his suits back.

Ok, so if I was willing, I could pretty easily put one through the whole thing. And if he was willing, that first flail ball would have been the harpoon he used to spear Cymatic. f*ck.

The knife vanished into dust and I set about him with my fists again, mashing my knuckles raw against his armour. He matched me with a flurry of strikes of his own, and soon I began to notice he was keeping up with me. Or rather, he was always there early. No matter what combination of attacks I threw he knew it was coming because of his god damn prediction software. He was slowly but surely pushing me back.

I wasn't going to win… I had to change tactics. Do something new, he couldn't predict. I leapt backward-

Clear oily liquid sprayed from my hands as Armsmaster charged, coating the floor in front of him just as he stepped. He slipped, unable to check his momentum, but his suit locked up and he slid across the puddle like an ice skater.

I grit my teeth and kept skipping backward.

More liquid, right on his feet this time, and he stopped moving, jolting where his right foot was glued to the ground. Armsmaster crouched on one leg and jumped, as miniature jet engines burst out of his hips, flaring like crazy, giving him enough thrust to break free and continue his undaunted charge.

I whipped my hands in front of me, weaving a net of shimmering blue thread. I balled my fists, the threads coming out of my fingertips responding and closing around Armsmaster. I exhaled and cast an overcharged Shocking Grasp, my control over the threads lasting long enough for the sparks to race down and cause a milliseconds long seizing in his armour that did nothing to stop him.

I continued to back up, up the wall and across the ceiling, out of his reach.

My feet unstuck from the roof as I kicked off, hurling a mine shaped blue lump with each hand. Both missed, but that was the plan.

I landed, bringing my hands up in guard as one of the explosives picked itself up off the ground and hurled itself at Armsmaster's back. The f*cker causally leant out of the way and I mirrored his movement to avoid the mine, bringing my left leg up into a butterfly kick that he rolled under. The second mine whipped through the air in an arc, homing in on him and he f*cking Kung Fu Panda Inner Peaced it away.

The mine belatedly exploded with a mournfulBang, scorching a big section of floor and shaking the air.

I was almost out of mana. I had one last try.

I took a deep breath, the cloying stench of spilled blood in my nose. Time for meatgrinder hours.

I ran, pushed myself into a sprint until I hit as fast as I could go. I hit the wall at an angle and pushed off, heading for the furthest point away from him as I could. I hit the wall again, running across it to conserve momentum before rounding on Armsmaster. My arms and legs pumped in unison, a steam engine of meat, and I poured half my remaining mana into enhancing my movement speed in the last two steps. With the rest-

I burst forward, slamming into Armsmaster with a wild hay-maker at nearly two hundred kilometers per hour with a grinding metallic crunch. His chest-plate creaked alarmingly as he was blasted back, bouncing across the floor once before slamming into the wall and landing in a heap.

"Take that, you f*cking sh*thead!" I screamed, my voice cracking for the first time in months, a feverish grin spreading across my face.

"Good."

Armsmaster's voice cut through my harsh panting like a knife. He effortlessly kipped up to his feet, mechanically smooth, and strode back over to me.

"This level of effort is what I expected from the start, you won't beat me by half assing this. I'm Armsmaster, Greg, you were never going to beat me with six months practice and a lazy attitude. Now, come at me again."

"I'm," I grit my teeth and glared at the ground. "Out of mana."

"Very well. It still takes one hundred minutes for it to replenish? Meet me back here then, we'll do this as many times as it takes," he clapped me on the shoulder and walked off. "That last move caught me completely by surprise, it was genuinely well executed, however, the same trick won't work twice."

I watched him go, panting through clenched teeth. If it was effort he wanted, it was effort he was going to get.

The floor exploded underneath Armsmaster, sending him stumbling back. The floor exploded under his feet again and I ran, speed boosted, and leapt into a six meter back kick that rocked his head back. I put a foot on his replacement halberd, using his retaliatory swing to get some distance.

His left boot landed on another of my Exploding Tags, and with a mental magical flare, up it went in a gout of flame and force. That'd teach him to leave me unsupervised. I juggled him for five more tags before he got solid footing and whacked me out of my next jumping kick with the ball end of his halberd.

I managed to get my arm guards in the way, letting me get away with some bruising as the reinforced polymer crunched into my muscle, instead of broken Ulna. I landed, spry, and skipped back over my mine field while Armsmaster somehow managed to perfectly retrace his steps literally anywhere but on a tag because of his god damn combat software.

I pulled one of my mine shaped Explosives from where it was hidden, and his god damn Echolocation must have tipped him off, because he dodged; but that trick wasn't going to work twice. The mine exploded, right next to his head, a microsecond before that f*cking stolen shield trick expanded, protecting him completely.

I ground my teeth, setting up that minefield of tags had been costly mana wise, so I was nearly tapped out. Granted, there were more, but I wanted to save them. And I couldn't get in close because his algorithm had my number, and that halberd had unbeatable reach because I was a god damn dagger speccing retard. f*ck me, why did I not take advantage of that five percent polearm bonus!?

I side stepped as he fired his flail at me, my hand lashing out through the wire with a screech of lightning, the ball cracking against the far wall moments later.

"Suck sh*t, f*ckface!" I cackled. "Gut shot me again, I dare ya!"

He huffed, his faceplate rendering the petulance tinny and commanding, and started to say something but I was already running full pelt toward him, jumping, one arm co*cked back.

He swung at my face, but by [Grace] I dipped in mid air, twisting impossibly under his knockout blow and catching him right in the sternum with a magic punch that sent him off his feet and up about two meters. I was on him before he hit the ground, left hand stuck to his shoulder while my right rained down punch after punch into his stupid helmet face.

My teeth clenched so hard it hurt, spittle flying from my lips with each breath, blood smearing on his faceplate as it began to warm under my knuckles.

Then we were moving, up, flipping, as his hip rockets span us in place with him now on top. He locked me in a bearhug and squeezed the breath out of me. I strained, resisted for as long as I could, but he was too strong. I cast a desperate shield, but all it did was scrape his armour paintless.

"Tap!" I gasped, flailing my hands against him. "Tap!"

He dropped me and fell back into a crouch, surveying me silently for a moment.

"The traps were a good move, even as a distraction. See you in a hundred minutes."

He walked off to grab his flail ball before vamoosing.

I put my head between my knees and just cried.

And it went on like this for a while.

I blocked, a smaller, more controlled version of the megaton punch sending Armsmaster's punch swinging wildly out to the right until his actuators compensated for the movement, but by then it was too late. I moved in, blocking his knee with my own, knocking it aside as I tapped his chin with another watered down megaton punch.

He staggered back through the ruined remains of his latest halberd as I lay into him before his software could catch up, dozens of tiny strikes, each imbued with a knockback effect that kept him stunlocked.

He flared his shield, but it sputtered and died before reaching full mast. His suit was failing on him, worn down over multiple fights, leaving me with openings to exploit. His left shoulder made a hideous grinding noise as he swung again, the death rattles of whatever delicate little hydraulics he had in there.

I didn't even have to block.

I dempsy rolled under the wild haymaker, putting my palms against his scratched up belly armour-

-and he let out a strangled electronic gasp, and almost fell before his armour apparently executed some kind of subroutine and took over for his legs.

"Ok, stop, I give," Armsmaster ground out, one scuffed blue gauntlet pressed against his gut where I hit him. "My damage calcs are telling me I'm bleeding internally."

I dropped on my ass, panting heavily, sweat dripping from my chin onto the mats. Was it over? No, there was still one more thing.

I hauled myself to my feet and co*cked my arm back, advancing on Colin.

"Grit your teeth!"

There was a moment before I hit him, where I could see confusion turn into acceptance, then I belted him one as hard as I could. No magic, just muscle. He stumbled and fell onto the mat at my feet.

"That was for taking me to the Exploding Man crimes."

I fell to my knees before him, tears leaking from my eyes and gathering in my visor. I tore the damn thing off and tossed it aside, glaring at the blue and silver blur sitting in front of me.

With a smallhisshis helmet detached at the neck and he lay it gently down next to him, meeting my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

I hung my head, hot tears stinging my eyes and staining the rubber matting as they dripped off the end of my nose. "You f*cked me up," I choked out the words that had been nesting in my throat for months.

Colin sighed, "You know, I really didn't think you could do it. Six months, I told myself it was impossible for you, and truth be told the only reason I agreed to it was that you piss me off. This was going to be a lesson in humility. Turns out it was mine. I shouldn't have taken you along, it was a bad move on my part, which I knew at the time. Thank you for not ratting me out."

"I ain't no snitch," I sniffled, looking back up at his ghost white face. "And I never dog the bros."

"You're a good Ward, Greg, and I never thanked you for saving my life against Cymatic. You deserve to be here. I promise I'll make it up to you," Armsmaster cringed painfully, gauntlet scraping softly against his stomach, beads of sweat breaking out on his pallid brow. "But can you do me a favour and call the medics? I think I need to get Scapegoat down here, or maybe Whitesnake, whatever you've done is incredibly painful."

I sniffled again and wiped at my eyes with bloody hands, "sure thing, Assmaster."

"Geggoid, my man!"

Mum swept me up in a ginormous hug, straining to lift me off the ground under the weight of a twenty centimetre and fifty-kilogram size difference. I popped up on my toes, Grace handling some of the load as my feet left the ground for a split second before mum dumped me down and staggered back, a proud grin across her ruddy face.

"You're looking phresh, son," Dad batted me on the shoulder, completely missing the quiet desperation behind my eyes. "I'm guessing you gave that tin can the old 'WD-40 and pipe cleaner'?"

"I did," I smirked, deciding to not mention how racist that comment was to Weld. Dad had never met him, so it wasn't his fault. "I must have ruined at least half a million dollars worth of Halberds."

My mind diverged, the wretched, screaming shame echoing in my second line. It bellowed at me that I was a piece of sh*t, who didn't deserve friends or happiness, before I forcefully subsumed it back into my cohesive whole where it had to battle with all my other thoughts for dominance, making it a little easier to ignore.

f*cking Multitask, how was this supposed to even be good? And why didn't I feel better? I beat up Colin and told him how I felt, surely I was supposed to feel like some great weight lifted off my shoulders, right?

Mum frowned, "Does he have to pay for that?"

"I don't think so," I shrugged over the top of a sudden guilt. "His budget is huge, and besides, he seems like the kinda guy who autistically saves everything in a compounded fund."

"We do that!" Dad beamed through his beard, no doubt seeing Colin as a kindred spirit, bound by facial hair and financial prudence. "And I've been meaning to tell you to, too."

Cold, gut-wrenching terror tried to squirm out into its own thing, but I wrestled it back in. The world was ending, Dad. The bank won't care about your savings because it'll be dead. And no one can do anything to stop it. Not America, not the Triumvirate, not Cauldron and certainly not me. Everyone I knew was going to die horribly.

"And I will, once the jews at the Protectorate finally give me my trust fund. What do you think of cryptos? I told Browbeat I'd invest."

"Betcoinisbearing, so… maybe?" Mum shrugged. "And then you can pay back Armsmaster for all his halberds."

"He knew the risks."

And he deserved it. He'd lose a lot more than that if I told anyone about what he'd done, but it still made me feel like a c*nt.

Dad put his hand on my shoulder in a tender, fatherly gesture. "Do you want us to write you an apology for the halberds?"

A little bit of my soul died, how had I thought that was ok? And the one time I apologised without their help I was so proud of myself. Jesus Christ.

"No," I sighed, closing my eyes. "I can do it myself from now on."

Mum nearly broke her spine again hefting me up in a surprise hug, "We always knew this day would come," she mumbled into my chest. "My precious baby boy, all grown up."

I smiled blandly.

"Let's call this second Christmas!" Dad bellowed. "Because you are a gift! Also, we're going to that expensive restaurant you like."

I was in hell.

My second line opened up, taking the part of my mind that was listening to my parents and moving my mouth with it, freeing up the other part of my brain for some miserable wallowing.

It was kind of odd, almost like being in two places at once, and, even though both of those places were awful, on a better day I could see how this could be good. Marvellous, even.

But today it was for wallowing and fear and doubt.

The morning after I punched Colin in the face I was back in Boston, alone in my room, playing with my pole. I marvelled at it's size, it's heft, with what felt like two brains as I gripped it in both hands, turning it over, running my fingers along the ridges and grooves. I thought at it, and the head changed, swelling and bulging into a wicked mess of spines. It's shape changed again, the shaft lengthening as two smaller heads worked their way out beside the first.

I vibrated with excitement, my very first honest to god magic weapon.

The Anypole. Able to transform into any conceivable polearm type weapon. I mean, sure, I could do the same thing with any mana object but this was something real, it wouldn't just vanish into smoke when its time was up. And unlike mana objects it weighed more than half a kilo.

The Anypole shifted back into a slender short spear and I stepped into the middle of the room to give it a twirl. I was in the middle of a particularly sick helicoptering manoeuvre when my work phone rang. I inventoried my amazing new magic item and hit answer after glancing at the caller ID.

"Hey, Emily, what's up?"

When she spoke it was in the harsh, gravelly voice of someone who hadn't slept because their blood was about ninety per cent coffee.

"Good morning. This phone call is being recorded, I have some questions."

"If this is about Colin's Halberds, he knew the risks," I bleated, panic creeping into my voice. "Or if it's about you having to pay for Whitesnake, that's his fault too, he made me do it."

There was a lengthy sigh and the slight sound of skin against skin.

"It's not about any of that, you're not in trouble for that, and I apologise for my earlier brusqueness, but the questions I'm about to ask will make it clear. Did you release the identities of Night, Fog, Othala and Rune?"

"What? No. I've never even seen them. It was Coil, like last time," I swallowed heavily. "Emily, I swear, you gotta believe me it's a frame job he's tryna get me killed!"

"That would appear to be the case, since your whereabouts at the time the information was leaked, by all indication by you, are accounted for, but there is still going to be an official inquiry."

"But that's good, right? He's overplayed his hand, I'm going to name him in front of everybody!"

"Yes, it's incredibly unlikely you'll be found guilty of this, and Armsmaster said he will personally vouch for you, but there's nothing leading back to him. If this was Coil and not some other party they've done a very good job of framing you, can you supply any other evidence of your innocence?"

"Probably? I get to meet with a guy from legal to sort this out right? Help me work through the laws?"

"Absolutely, this is a very big problem and we're going to stamp it out as hard as we can."

"What the f*ck is his f*cking beef? Surely it can't be because of the whole Tattletale thing, that makes no sense," my jaw dropped and I clicked with my free hand, the crack echoing in my room like a gunshot. "God I'm stupid. It was never about Tattletale, or me not joining his gang, it's his identity! He's someone with a lot to lose and my Observe makes it so he can't even be near me without risking everything! Coil is Max Anders!"

There was a pregnant pause.

"That's highly unlikely."

"No, yeah, you're right. Krieg worked for Medhall, so Anders is probably Kaiser. You've had him tailed after I told you guys about Krieg, right? Anything turned up?"

"Unfortunately no, because our analysts had the same suspicion. Though, there wasn't any hard evidence he wasn't Kaiser either."

"Can you tell Kaiser it wasn't me?" I asked in a small voice. "I really don't want Night and Fog to murder me. They're still here in Boston, last I checked, and you know how those schizo f*cks operate."

"You're a Ward, Greg. You're Dark Smoke Puncher. We protect our own, I'm not about to let some jumped up thug hurt someone under my watch."

That unironically made me feel better. Emily was a tough c*nt, but she was on my team.

"Thank you, Director."

I heard her exhale loudly through her nose, but not in amusem*nt.

"You're welcome. Unfortunately for you, you're being confined to base for safety reasons until the inquiry is complete so your orders are to sit and wait for our people to get your statement and clear this up. We'll contact your parents and have it arranged for at least one to attend the questioning, where you will tell the representative the truth and nothing but the truth; understood?"

"Yes, Director."

"Good, I'll contact you when this blows over. Dismissed."

The call cut out, leaving my phone to beep aimlessly until I clicked it off and threw it onto my bed.

Coil.

The problem with Coil is I've never even been close enough to look at him, but he still wants me gone. Why?

He expects to be near me soon. Why?

He works for the PRT or the Protectorate.

But not in Brockton, currently.

He's been seen in person before, but infrequently, so him living in a different city is very plausible. Coil is going to transfer in.

He wants me gone before I expose him with a glance like I did his moles.

Man, f*ck this sh*t. I had something more important to do than think about Coil anyhow. I bounced a full meter off the ground and drifted gracefully into my computer chair like a snowflake, I thumbed the on button of my four thousand dollar gaming PC, waiting impatiently for the awesome LED's to turn purple.

I knew I shouldn't be nervous for this next call, but it was my first time. I hammered in my password as fast as my keyboard would physically allow, opened up Skype and dialled Sveta.

It rang out so I tried again and she picked up after four rings.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed softly, in a vaguely eastern European accent. "I'm so sorry, the computer is hard to use sometimes."

I turned the volume up on my headphones.

"No problem, Sveta. How are ya?"

"I'm ok."

"Noice. What've you been up to?"

"Oh, not much," she whispered.

I wanted to ask her to speak up, but I was afraid it was something to do with her mutation. I also wanted to call her Svagetti, but that would just make her upset even though I would be using it as a term of endearment. Thank god, in this one very specific instance, for my WIS and CHA gains.

"The use' huh? I wish I had more time to do nothing, Coil's trying to get me killed again if you can Adam and Eve it."

"Again?"

"The guy just has no chill, oh! I beat up Armsmaster!

"You've been waiting for that," Sveta remarked.

"It took all day, but I punched him right in his stupid helmet and got, get this, an actualmagic item! I'll send you a video, it's so amazeballs. Anyway, are you still up for a game of something?"

She whispered something that took me a moment to parse.

"Can we play something easy to control? Like Heathstone? Sorry."

"A prime choice, homeslice," I opened up my game store app and double clicked Heathstone, the best mod of the game anyone had ever made, or will ever make. "Do you still rock the Hate You deck?"

"Yeah."

Ok, so she was way shyer than over text.

"So I was thinking of picking up the guitar or something to do songs on my Wards twitter, want to help me write a parody cover called 'I shot the Simurgh'?"

"Oh, um," Sveta dithered. "Ok. So, like, a take on I shot the Sherrif?"

"Yeah, I'm going to use it to call out the Fallen for trying to kill me, because I don't like that kind of thing."

Sveta made a whiny kind of whistling exhale but didn't say anything.

Ok, cut back on talking about how people had tried to kill me. Noted.

"I'm also going to do normal covers and sh*t, I could do the op to your favourite anime if you like?"

"But you hated Blood Boundary," she eventually said. "You said it was overhyped, soap opera trash."

"And it is. But it's your favourite."

"Thanks," Sveta said. "I'm sure it'll be a great song, your voice is really cool."

We played for a while, bantering sparsely, and I even managed to win occasionally despite Hate You being a perfect counter to a Joker deck. I watched pensively as my AgEnt of ChAoS killed an Iron Verona. The only way to win in this was to kill the others monsters, because it was a game and you were a gamer. But I was a Gamer… and killing monsters had only brought me what I was pretty sure was some kind of trauma despite my former belief that I existed to kill monsters. That had been short sighted of me.And it wasn't like my power really pushed me to think that, it merely incentivised it, but it incentivised learning how to save lives too. Sure, the incentives were much bigger in killing, and I'd eventually need to kill the ultimate monsters to save the world, but I didn't need them. I could just-

And sure, it paid less than even a basic homunculus, but it wouldn't make me feel bad about myself. Unless people flamed me, I would hate that.

"Hey, Svets, you've still got a huge lady-boner for Weld, right?"

She sputtered futilely as though she hadn't admitted to looking up Weld rule thirty-four more than once.

"Want me to go get him so you can say hi?"

"Could you?" she asked after about eight seconds of dead silence.

I was out the door like a speeding Kawasaki ninja bike, gracefully drifting around corners and up the hallway. I stuck my bare feet to the ground at about thirty miles per hour, muscle and tendon groaning to hold my knees intact at the dead stop. I swayed out the rest of my momentum, raised a hand and politely knocked.

A desk chair squeaked loudly even behind the closed door and I heard Weld clumping closer. The door opened, revealing Weld, as expected.

"Hey, dude, what's up?" he asked.

"I need a favour," I said, giving him strong eye contact. "One of my internet friends is your biggest fan, could you say hi to her?"

He gave me a look that was equal parts confused frown and confused smile, as though that hadn't been what he was expecting at all but he was almost pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, I guess so. Is it going to take long? I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Ah, sorry," I grimaced. "It'll only take like thirty seconds, and that'll like, make her year. Take just a sec, promise."

Weld scratched at his golden facial lines, fingers rasping on the metal. "Dude, it's cool."

I smiled and led the way. Weld was such a nice guy, I needed to be a better friend.

"What're you working on?"

"Making a track for this comp, it's super experimental and hipstery but it's good fun."

"Hey! I was literally just thinking about picking up the guitar and writing songs, can you give me some tips later?"

He gave a big wide reflective grin and I suppressed a grimace, I really needed to do something about that. "Sure! Sounds fun."

"Just you wait," I said as I ushered him into my rooms and up to the computer, handing him my headset. "sh*t is gonna be tite ay ef."

He shook his head disparagingly, looked at the screen, frowned, and put the headphones on.

"Hello?"

I smiled at the high pitched squeal faintly issuing from the headphones, that was the kind of lame sh*t Sveta was going to wake up to in a cold sweat ten years from now as her brain tortured her with past social failings that were utterly meaningless in the grand scheme of her life.

"Thanks a million," I clapped Weld on the back as I saw him out the door. "If any of your friends want to say hello to me I'll be glad to lend a hand."

"If," he smirked. "Anyway, your friend seemed nice for a fifty-three chaser."

"Pfft, you wish," I leant against the door frame. "Have fun with your gay hipster comp."

"I intend to."

I shut my door as he strutted away, and headed back in. I cast a glance at my covered bathroom mirror through the ajar door. Soon.

"So," I said, affixing my headphones back in place. "Ain't h-"

"Oh mygawwwd!"

I cast the cover off my bathroom mirror sending a mad flurry of dust swirling through the air, it had been a while since I'd looked at my face. I leant heavily into the sink as the phantom stab of a knife twinged in my back, I swayed, vision swimming into greys and blots of light as a ringing whine filled my ears and the wordsfine messesrepeating in a whisper. I turned my head slightly, I think my nose had gotten a bit bigger, but nothing about me had changed much.

I still glowed with good health, my eyes still sparkled a handsome blue, I was still ripped as fuark… I patted the top of my head. Actually, maybe I was a half-centimetre taller too. Cool. Chicks dug tall guys, and there would surely have to be some cuties coming in from New York today. New York was a big place, which meant a proportionally larger amount of hot chicks triggering compared to Brockton or Boston. Sure, Sophia had been hot, but Valerie and Daisey were pretty average. Still would, though, if they offered. Like, I could be bothered.

I grabbed a hand towel and mopped my sopping brow with a trembling hand, my face crunching into the road. I blinked and lifted myself up from where I'd fallen face-first into the mirror. I screwed my eyes shut and shuffled out of the bathroom like a zombie despite my hammering heart.

And somehow I made it to the lobby. I looked at my gloved hands, which meant I'd put my uniform on at some point in the past... a glance at the clock on the wall told me I'd lost ten minutes. Ok. Cool. Ok.

"Dark Smoke Puncher!"

I turned around to see the Debbie the Intern hurrying up to me with a parcel liberally coloured with safety stamps.

"A package came in for you, sir."

"Thanks a million," I said, automatically, flashing her a sparkling smile as I took it off her hands. She smiled back and hustled off in pursuit of more work.

I was distantly aware of time passing as I went and sat in one of the lobby chairs, staring unseeingly at the parcel in my hands.

"What'chu got there, chief?"

I looked over to my right at the suddenly occupied chair.

"Hey, Rey Rey," I slit the parcel open with a stroke of a sparking thumb and emptied it onto my lap. "Ordered some books in."

"Yeah?" Tyrone said, craning his neck to read the titles. "I think I'm gonna order that one I was looking at. What made you pick those?"

Multitask split my head in two.

Just tell the truth, dickbag.

And invite all the problems that come with that, huh, Other Greg?

I'm Smart Greg, idiot.

We're both Smart Greg.

f*ck me.

"Figured learning guitar would be awesome," I reached up and smashed that yes button.

"And picking up a Thinker ability in a field I haven't touched yet would be a good idea."

Way to go, Other Greg.

I subsumed my insubordinate second line before I could berate myself further.

"Smort," Tyrone said, reaching up and scratching under his furry mask. "Get you some of that information superiority, f*ck them New Yorkers up, son!"

In any case, my new power was indicating he was relaxed and thinking I was totally normal and wow was I getting a lot of uncomfortable flashbacks from all those times I talked to girls and didn't pick up that their body language meant they found me as attractive as a slug, thus continuing to blather on about things that it should have been crystal clear they had no interest in long past the time where any sane man would have withered inside. I'd had my moments of withering, sure, but I could always just tell myself I was cool and struggle on. I couldn't do that now, I was too woke, like Artax. Past Greg was Atreyu, but I'd die in his swamp.

Was Past Greg the real Chad?

"Speaking of," I said. "Are any of them hot?"

"Yes," he replied, without hesitation or thought. "Flechette is a babe, and Jetstar, oh man."

Tyrone drew a bodacious set of curves in the air with his power. My eyebrows shot up and for a moment we both stared, transfixed, before I realised he was probably working from idealised memory, like me with my secret Glory Girl and Simurgh clone spell that nobody could ever find out about.

"And they're Lancers, so they're allsofit," he heaved a great sigh. "It's great."

The illusion dissipated and we both settled back contemplatively-

"What the f*ck was that?"

A fist of 'oh sh*t!' punched me in the gut, cold sweat began to break out under my uniform, the blood drained from my face; then I looked up and realised it was just Valerie.

"Nothing," blurted Tyrone, swivelling his head around like an owl desperately looking for a way out.

Valerie crossed her arms contemptuously, "it looked to me like youse were being pervs."

"Says the girl with X-Ray vision," I stuck my nose in the air. "As if you can lecture us on perving."

"No need to get so defensive," she said smugly, taking the seat on the other side of me.

"Stating fact ain't defensive," Tyrone cut in defensively. "How do we know you're not having a peek right now?"

"A very good question, Rey Rey," I said. "If only one of us were a Thinker Eight, capable of rustling up that information out of thin air."

There was a sudden small shift in Valerie's posture that pinged to my body language power as possibly guilt, before settling back into relaxation again. She probably had been using her power, but not to look at our dicks. If I could see her face I'd be a little surer, but as it was only a ghost of her mouth was visible behind her face-covering eyeball mask.

"I don't think she was looking at our dicks," I said to Tyrone. "But she was lookingsomewhere."

"Feet?" asked Tyrone, contempt colouring his voice despite foot freaks and furries being on the same level, leaving him with no moral high ground.

"I was checking where everyone else is, actually," Valerie huffed. "And I wouldn't be looking at you two anyway."

Tyrone and I stoically bore this crushing blow to our self-esteem, like monks who've convinced themselves in a fit of sour grapes thattheychose celibacy.

"Anyway," she continued. "More importantly, we've gotta come up with a way to beat them snooty New Yorkers."

I leant back and crossed my ankles, hands in my lap. I could probably do it by myself, I could certainly take the entire Brockton squad by myself, the Boston too, almost certainly without a huge amount of trouble; this was without leveraging whatever hidden depths my Multitask ability still hid. I had become strong. My powers added up to something greater than the sum of its parts, bits and pieces feeding into and synergising with each other in a way that would only multiply as I got more skills and spells. I had become strong, yes, but this whole week wasn't about that at all.

Good job, Smart Greg.

"We'll find a way," I said, injecting as much confidence into my voice as I could. "They might be a rapid response and combat team, but we have options they don't, and with Weld as our leader, we can't lose."

"Hell yeah!" Tyrone crowed, miming a pimp slap. "We'll f*ck 'em up, I don't give a f*ck!"

As far as I could tell, from my Observations of the Boston team and my reading all the available materials on the Lancer team, it was pretty unlikely they'd ever beaten them in the big spar thing. Maybe he was expecting me to carry, or maybe he was just hyped.

"f*ck yeah!" Valerie echoed, punching me in the ribs. She winced and shook her hand. "Team Boston!"

"Team Boston!" said Tyrone.

"Team Boston!" repeated Valerie.

"Team Boston!" I chimed in.

We had changed to repeating 'Boston Gang!' at each other in stupid voices by the time Norm, Dez and Fred walked up to us, radiating enough confusion that I probably would have picked it up without my power. They dragged three chairs around so we were sitting in a rough circle.

"Boston Gang what?"

"Best gang!" Tyrone flashed a seizure-inducing display to which I added a bass drop and some wubs.

"That's the spirit," Dez said breezily, picking up what we were putting down. "And hopefully they won't kick our asses again."

"I think we have a better chance now," said Fred, eyeing me speculatively but also looking like he wanted to kick me in the shins. "You did do that hostage thing by yourself easily enough."

I wilted a little. "I said I was sorry for zapping you and Norm, it never hurt me that much."

Norm scoffed and drew breath to speak.

"Yes, I know you don't have my brute rating," I cut him off. "I really am sorry."

Norm rolled his eyes and shrugged as Fred said, "you better be sorry, it really hurt."

I pressed my lips together and looked at my knees. Yeah, feel like sh*t you dumbass, that'll do a lot of good.

"It can't have hurt that much, right?" Tyrone cut in awkwardly.

"f*ckin' try it," Norm rubbed his arm in phantom pain. "I had these big burns for a week."

I really did appreciate Tyrone trying to defend me, it wasn't something I got much of, and I couldn't really delude myself anymore about my people repelling personality. I'd have to do something nice for him later.

An awkward silence descended over the group, no one willing or able to defuse the tension. Back in the day I'd have just gotten up, made a would-be pithy quip and left, proving for all to see that Past Greg was no Chad.

A big, heavy clumping footstep approached, very distinctively Weld's, coming to save us from this hellish social prison. I looked up, spotting the last of the team with him, Daisy and Hunch.

"What's up guys?" Weld asked with a hesitance that bled into his steps.

"Just waitin' for the New York team to get here," I said, putting on an easy smile and reclining as much as I could. "They're late, aren't they?"

I could see he disbelieved.

"Not yet," he said, letting the lie pass. Or seeming to, he was probably going to ask someone about it later because he was bad at being bad at his job. One day I hoped to be as bad at my job as Weld was.

I started zoning out as he started going on about how he wanted us to conduct ourselves, be friendly but competitive because at the end of the week the losers buy the winners dinner. All fairly unimportant, common sense stuff that blurred into white noise as I stared at his reflective face with a growing, sickly sense of unease.

I think I needed to talk to someone. Soon.

I expected the Lancers to sweep into the lobby, chests puffed out with the swagger of the undefeated, smirking grins or smouldering seriousness fixed in place, but they just traipsed off a bus and shuffled through the doors with yawns, coffees and travel bags.
Despite this, they still all looked like fitness models which meant they had been vigorously worked over by Image, even the bright green lizard looking Case Fifty-Three was wearing a hat that looked specifically designed to blunt the impact of his dinosaur face.

"That guy's my Nemesis," Tyrone elbowed me in the side, gesturing at the guy with the shamanic hawk mask and also live hawk on his shoulder. "He totally ripped off my style."

I exhaled loudly through my nose, but I was more concerned with the fact that five out of the eight of them were girls than Tyrone once again accidentally admitting his fetish. I'd had a quick flick through of How To Make Friends when we'd gone to the bookstore for Amy's present, and a not so quick flick through of pickup forums over the course of the years so I had a vague outline of how to behave, even if I'd never been able to stick to it before.

A different outline to how I handled the Sophia date, a better one.

Weld and Jouster stepped up to each other, Jouster dropping his bag and shuffling his coffee to his left hand took Weld's in his right. They shook, clasped, and dragged each other in for a bro hug that lasted just long enough that neither of them had to say 'no hom*o' afterwards.

"Late night?" Weld asked, the subtle motion of his head indicating he was glancing down at the coffee cup.

Jouster made an affirming noise. "Big charity event, fishing for sponsors or whatever. Nothing that fun."

"I feel that. How's the rest of the team?" Weld looked around at the New Yorkers, posture opening up to invite answers from the group rather than just Jouster.

Man, now that I knew what I was looking for putting the pieces together wasn't that hard.

The group responded, and I listened carefully for which one had the nicest voice… results inconclusive. Weld nodded in response to the tangle of 'good's and 'fine's, motioning for them to follow him. It was time.
I positioned myself carefully so that the flow of the group would place me close to the New York team. I waited until Basilisk glanced over at me, giving me an excuse to make eye contact.

"Hey!" I layered on my smile, sidling closer. "It's awesome to meet you guys, I've heard that the Lancers are the best of the best, we're going to have our work cut out for us I expect. I'm Dark Smoke Puncher," I stuck my hand out.

"That's quite a name," Basilisk said with none of the expected lisping hiss, grasping my hand in his clawed one, his forked tongue lashing out as though tasting for lies. "Basilisk. It's nice to meet you too."

"Yeah, I really didn't want any of the names they picked out for me. Like Myst, or Smokestack, or whatever? Bland. Anyway, I saw in the news that you guys had a big arrest recently, how was that? The biggest thing I've done was sidekick for Weld when he raided one of Blasto's warehouses."

Basilisk huffed, pulling his hat lower over his eyes. "I didn't have much to do with that one."

I, having access to internal reports, already knew this.

"Oh?" I asked. "Who did?"

Basilisk turned to his left, "Bangarang. Their new guy wants a word."

The girl in the black and electric blue armour shifted through from the other side of the group, looping around to avoid walking in front of anyone.

"What's up?" she asked, voice layered with a trace of Jamaican accent. "About what?"

"You were the one who arrested Diablo, right? I'd love to hear about it."

"Yes," she said smugly. "It was one of those things where if it went even slightly worse the senior Protectorate member would have had to claim it, but I nailed it. Not even a scratch. The idiot was distracted by Prism, so all I had to do was slide in and pow! Right in the kisser!"

She let loose a punch that echoed with a distorted ringing gong. "I have absolutely no idea what he was thinking, it was such an avoidable f*ck up. Still, not going to complain, it got me mad cred."

"Hell yeah!" I grinned. "I bet you could take him one v. one, I've never heard of him so he can't be monster strong."

"Maybe I could," Alvita buffed her gloved fingernails on her chest plate.

"I bet you could kick some ass too," I turned my smile from Alvita to NaKrull. "You don't look like a chump."

"I've won my share of fights," he said blandly, shifting his gaze away, probably to avoid saying anything about his shady mercenary past.

God damn poor Case Fifty Threes. What the f*ck was Cauldron thinking? I mean, they could have been worse and chosen completely healthy, happy people to test their potions on instead of ones who were dying, but memory wiping them and dumping them into Bet completely failed to ameliorate anything. I'd have some strong words for whatever witch ran the show when I found them.

"How about you," Basilisk continued. "How new are you?"

"Yeah! How do you stack up?" Bangarang gestured animatedly raising her hand from waist to head height and back again. "We're going to crush you guys again, but still."

"Oh," I scratched my neck, looking down. "You know. I do ok, got a couple of powers that synergise. I'd say my biggest fight is when some of Brockton's local Nazi's tried to have a go, but Armsmaster took care of a lot of that. I was from there originally, actually, I'm only here because some other turdburgling villain tried to frame me for breaking the unwritten rules."

"No sh*t?" Bangarang frowned. "That sucks. Brockton lives up to its rep?"

"It's a hole."

Basilisk made a slightly inhuman humming noise. "Everything might be bigger in New York, but at least we don't have Nazi's. You have my condolences."

"Thanks," I said, executing a Sideways-Looking-Up Smile that my newest power indicated would make them treat me as something to be protected. Oh, there was that slimy feeling again like when I manipulated Weld into taking me to the Blasto raid. It also probably totally tanked my chances with Alvita, my pick up forum experience told me that girls liked to be the ones being protected. Dammit.

Wrong f*cking smile, Greg.

"When I graduate the Wards, I'll see about joining you guys in New York."

"Good luck!"

I looked over behind Basilisk to see who had spoken.

"Everyone wants to be in New York," Jetstar muscled her way into the conversation, forcing Basilisk to step to the side to avoid treading on her heels. "You have to be scouted, you don't just 'see about joining'."

"Well, you could put in a good word for me, right?" I said, biting back the smugness that came with being able to have a power that saw the future telling you it was very possible for you to be in the top ten ranked Protectorate heroes, thus a shoo-in.

"Yes," she said, jutting her chin out. "Even Dragon uses my engine designs. You have to earn it, maybe if you impress me this week I'll still remember your name by the time you graduate."

"I'm Dark Smoke Puncher." I offered my hand to shake and god was I getting flashbacks of pulling this same attitude in Brockton, back when people started to take my claims of being the Crawler of the Dauntless genre seriously. I understood the swell head this sh*t gave you, and I could see by her power that her flight suit would be impressive when she pulled it out during the week. Unfortunately for her, her power didn't make her permanently wiser when she managed to have moments of baseline human common sense. "And I'll do my best."

Jetstar raised an eyebrow, an almost derisive gesture if the rest of her body language wasn't saying something else, and left the conversation as promptly as she joined letting Basilisk return to his former place next to me. He, Alvita and I made pleasant chit-chat for the rest of the way to the Wards quarters, whereupon Weld clapped loudly to get everyone's attention, a harsh crashing jangle.

"I have a little surprise for everyone!" he grinned broadly, creasing the bright gold of his facial lines. "If anyone's interested we've got free entry to Bad Canary's latest show, but only if we show up in costume. I'm sure as hell going, any other takers?"

「You know, this is nice,」Lily said, leaning forward slightly. 「I don't get to use my Japanese as often as I'd like.」

「Me either!」 I matched her lean, over the bus seat that grumbled and rattled beneath my elbows. This was a good sign, her leaning in. Plus she was Japanese, which was even more my type than Sophia or Tattletale were. This was it, Greg boy, the real reward for the girlfriend quest wasn't the exp or items or whatever, it was the genuine companionship.

And that sweet puss.

「What made you pick up the language?」

「Oh, um,」 I looked down to the right. It was because of the anime tiddies, but that wasn't something anyone needed to hear. Anymore. Urgh. 「When I was finally old enough to understand what happened at Kyushu I just thought about how sad it was, that like a third of a languages speakers could just die, so I started getting into some of the media still coming out of there, but I was never very good at it until I got powers. I pick things like that up pretty quick nowadays.」

I could see her posture just melt.

「That's so lovely.」Lily placed a hand over her heart.

「Oh.」 I shrugged. 「It's not all that. Some of it was just because I like anime.」

「Wapanese!」she laughed, a beauteous sound of dreams and hand-holding. 「But that's ok, I like some of it too.」

She was perfect. I was in love and we were going to get married because I didn't have a fixation on falling in love with unobtainable targets so that I didn't have to deal with the reality of relationships.

「Maybe we should try to get everyone to watch Princess Mononoke, like for a movie night this week?」I said, holding one hand palm up. It was a nice inoffensive choice, nice family movie, no panty shots or haremsh*t.

「Ghibli films are always a good choice, shame they don't make them anymore.」

「Don't remind me.」I hunched my shoulders. 「The Aleph ones just aren't the same.」

We chatted for a few minutes more until the bus pulled up and we all shuffled off, with Lily stepping off to talk to Noodle as I fell into step beside Tyrone.

"Gettin' in with Flechette?" he stage whispered suggestively, bumping me with his shoulder.

The big pink balloon that had been inflating in my chest cavity swelled a little larger. "She's so nice! Why did nobody tell me?" I inhaled as deeply as I could, looking out over the lines of people waiting to get into the concert, everyone so happy to see us, all the other Wards smiling and laughing. Brockton could never have anything like this. "I think I'm going to transfer here permanently."

Tyrone grinned delightedly. "Hell yeah! I mean, if you left who would I play Magic with?"

I chortled and fell quiet as our group was let through the VIP gate. I accepted a backstage pass lanyard from the ticket checker lady and slipped it over my neck. Our group bottle-necked with the rest of the VIP's as security scanned each of us in turn with their metal detectors. I watched as Weld set off the alarm, a fixed grimace of a smile on his face, and choked out an apology. The security guard frowned, the troubled uncomfortable expression of a man who has accidentally asked a paraplegic veteran to stand for the national anthem, and waved him through.

Hunch patted him as high up on the back as he could, shooting the guard a glare before heading on through.

Poor Weld. As if Cauldron hadn't hurt him enough! Bunch of sh*ts! I'll f*cking stir them so hard when I actually found out who they were and what dimension they were hiding in. I bet Alexandria, Legend and Eidolon knew something, there had to have been something to tip them off in the past twenty years of running America's parahuman scene, some villain that folded in return for not being birdcaged or a hero who couldn't live with the guilt of buying powers from the kind of scum-sucking sh*tters who turned amazing people into Mimics, tin men and neanderthals and didn't even apologise.

I fumed impotently all the way to our private balcony section. I was strong, for my weight class as it were, but in the grand scheme of things I wasn't all that. I needed to step up my training from where I'd been slacking off lately, but it was hard to make myself these days. But I needed to, the world was ending.

I slipped into a comfy padded chair next to Hunch, so that I could ogle the back of Lily's neck from a prime angle. Hunch and I didn't talk much. I think it was because his pre-cog was extra unreliable around me sometimes, like Dez's which sometimes gave out some fantastically unrealistic visions when I was involved which was cool when if I was going to be fighting enemy Thinkers but lame if I needed Thinker support.
Norman sat down heavily next to me before Tyrone could take the seat, consigning me to have no one to talk to but myself.

At least I'm good company, eh?

Sure, but what are you even good for?

I already knew, but the ridiculous pantomime helped me keep track of things. I'd had days to puzzle out the true function of Multitask, and I was not left wanting. If you could call me, on the day I got my powers, Super Greg, and the day I picked the mana control perk Super Greg Two, then this was to go even further beyond.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I was a Greg that had ascended beyond the level of all previous Gregs; I could reliably cast two spells at the same time. And if that weren't enough, I could cast a spell with one mind and focus the other purely on wielding the unfathomable cosmic power, leaving me with a superior effect and a far greater understanding on how to control my magic.

It's not enough to tank Cauldron, but I think we're actually proud of our self, aren't we. We beat Assmaster and it took us to a whole new level, and not just in power. I managed to meet new girls and not have them end up looking at me like I was a ji*zz encrusted pillow f*cker, I think they call this Normie Passing.

I think it was the making an effort to learn how not to be a sperg.

Now just imagine if we bought that body language book six months ago.

It would have said I needed more CHA or WIS and I would have forgotten about it.

But we've learned that lesson.

Too right we have.

I contented myself with internal preening and the sight of the flashes of skin between Lily's collar and hairline until the spotlight on the stage lit up, cutting the babbling crown silent for all of five seconds until they started cheering and whooping as Canary walked onto the stage, smiling and waving energetically as smoke machines partially hid the backing band with gold lit mist.

A huge screen lit up above the stage, a four K ultra HD closeup of Canary's face grinned out at everyone.

"Thank you all so much for coming!" She smoothed a lock of bright yellow feathers behind her ear as the crowd melted into incoherent screaming at the sound of her voice. It was definitely something, high, musical and lilting, crisp and clear. "Are you ready?"
The crowd hollered, but she grinned wider and raised a hand to her ear. "What was that?"

I joined in this time, projecting my voice as far and loud as I could. Some unspoken level of loudness was reached and the band started playing.

Canary took an audible breath and sang.

It was truly amazing. Like auditory silk. Sweet like sugar and smooth like water. A warm cloth wiping away my pain and rage in a way pirated copies of her songs never could. There was me and the music and nothing else really mattered.

It took me a moment to drag myself out of the cozy rapture and read what that particular debuff did. I started observing random people in the audience and …Really harshing my vibe here, power. Everyone knew her singing had some sort of mind control aspect but it was a miracle something horrible hadn't happened, the Suggestible condition would last a fair while after she stopped singing, and it didn't need to be her giving the suggestion.

I could tell Lily to make out with me right now and she would. Someone could tell someone else to do something worse, and they would.

I don't even think Canary knew this, she'd bought her powers. On one hand, good on her for choosing the Rogue life, but on the other, Cauldron.

I had to go and do something about this, but… after the show. I needed this to unwind a little.

Mana wrapped around me like a second skin, mimicking the environment near perfectly, so when I slipped out of my seat halfway through Vulgarishous nobody noticed. It was the upgraded version of Chameleon Haze, and my power termed it Cuttlefish Skin.

I leapt out of the balcony, soaring over the enraptured crowd and landing lightly on the back of an unoccupied chair. It creaked as I jumped off into a clear patch of the floor near the stage, nobody would have noticed anyway given who was singing but I wasn't sure if I was allowed backstage until after the show ended.

I walked around backstage, stealing past security with ease until I came to a spot where I could see Canary onstage. This would no doubt be where she would exit when she finished this song. I left my spell running, it was so cheap in comparison I could have it on without hamstringing myself if some problem were to occur.

Everything went according to plan. Canary finished her song, gave the crowd her parting thanks and exited stage left right in front of me.

I dropped my spell and stepped forward.

"Hey, sorry I'm here early, I know you want to catch your breath before getting ambushed by fans but I just had to say hello!"

She gave a little start but recovered admirably after taking in my uniform and VIP lanyard.

"Well, yes. I recognise you, you're one of the Wards, right?"

"Yes!" I stepped closer, holding out my hand. "I'm Dark Smoke Puncher! Thank you so much for not kicking me out, I love your music so I just wanted to tell you how good it made me feel tonight. I haven't felt this pumped in ages, you're remarkable!"
"Oh well thanks," Canary said stepping forward to shake my hand. "I'm just doing what I love, moving people with my music."

"It's so inspiring. I'm actually planning on getting into singing and guitar and posting stuff on my Wards social media, and I hope I can end up sounding a fifth as good as you someday-"

"Oi!"

We both turned to see a very angry guy storm up, all raised hackles and fake smiles.

"Hey, Paige. I can see you're making it big, making lots of money. My money. I pushed you into this, I encouraged you the whole time and you repay me by cutting me out? I made you, and you owe me. Half."

I flinched back at the venom in his voice, glancing over to see that Canary had gone from all smiles to stab-a-c*nt pissed in the space of a few seconds.

"Like f*cking hell!" She hissed. "You…"

She trailed off, her clenched fist raising slightly. He matched her stance and oh f*ck were they about to throw down?

"Uh," I said and she turned to look at me, then turned back to the guy.

"Can't you see I'm talking to someone? Piss off."

The guy snapped his jaw sh*t, mouth twisting like he was eating a lemon, every muscle in his body tense and hunched, face purple with consternation. Then he just left, liquid leaking down the inseam of his jeans and leaving a trail on the floor. Canary didn't seem to notice this, as she continued to fume at his retreating back.

"Absolute dickhe*d. Absolute co*ckmongling dickhe*d. Thinks he can come here with that after what he did?" she scoffed, rustling her feathers with a contemptuous shake of her head.

"He seems like a douche."

"A big, sloppy douche," Canary said, suddenly tired. She exhaled deeply and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that, I don't know how he got back here."

"He won't be coming back, which is also something I wanted to tell you about." I pointed to the wet trail. "He actually pissed off. If you'd told him to go suck a dick, he would have. You should be more careful with that, you're too beautiful to go to prison."

I smiled, my sparkle cosmetic flashing handsomely above my Armsbeard. I saw her pupils dilate for a fraction of a second before she realised I was a minor who worked for the government but she smiled anyway.

"Maybe I should have told him to go suck a dick. Or to go f*ck himself, it'd be completely worth it."

I wanted to stress to her that the outcome of that would put her in supermax for twenty years without parole, but figured she probably knew and was just joking. I shook my head to make sure she understood my take on the matter. "Anyway, as I was saying before that jacko*ff interrupted, I'm going to start making music soon. Can I tweet it to you? I'd love to know what you think, even if you think it's sh*t. Maybe we could collab one day? It'd get you some points with the PRT, I know being a rogue can be hard."

"Yeah, tweet it at me for sure. I'm sure you won't suck, you have a fantastic voice," she tapped her pursed lips with her forefinger rapidly. "As for collabing… I don't mind but I'll check with my managers to see how it would play out for my image. I imagine it'll be fine though, I want to go mainstream so I'll get accused of being a sellout shill regardless. Yeah," she tilted her head to the side and smiled, tucking her feathers behind her ear. "Once you start putting your stuff out there I'll get back to you."

My sparkle cosmetic lit up my face as much as my smile did. "Thank you so much! It'll be great, I promise! I'll let you go have a sit down before you go out and see your fans, all the wards got backstage passes so I'll see you again in a minute anyway."

I shook her hand vigorously, gave her one last smile and turned invisible. I had to get back before Weld got too mad and scolded me while girls were watching.

AYAYAYAYAI!

I snatched my phone up from my desk and hit answer. "Hello?"

"Hey, Greg."

"Amy! Hey, what's up?"

I heard the faint crinkle of wrapping paper being shuffled aside and the even fainter creak of a new book being opened.

"Thank you for the present," Amy said, not sounding particularly thankful. She took a breath as if to say something, audibly closed her mouth, then inhaled again. "I don't think I was actively trying to help myself… to be happy. And I know you know, there was stuff you read off of me that we never talked about, but I," she paused as her voice shook. "I'd like to know."

I leant forward, resting my elbows on my desk, staring at the grain. "Everything?"

"Everything."

"It's not going to be nice, my power lays it all bare. It doesn't change anything though, you're still my gayest nigg*."

I heard her exhale loudly through her nose.

"Ok," I said. "This is from memory, but here goes. Amelia Claire Lavere was born to Hamish Lavere and Sharon McTavish as part of a fling and remained with her father for a number of years after Sharon got cancer. During her childhood, her father concealed from her the true nature of his work until he was ambushed at home by the Brockton Bay Brigade, and, rather than have his daughter caught in the crossfire, surrendered. Amelia was then adopted by Carol Dallon, whom harboured a great resentment to her being assured she would turn out like her father, The Marquis. Amelia was treated unlovingly by her adoptive mother and unintentionally neglectfully by her adoptive father, with her only point of positive contact being her adoptive sister, Victoria Dallon, whom Amelia would develop a secret crush on that would later fester into an obsessive, romantic love. This was compounded by the circ*mstances of her trigger event, in which she saved Victoria's life, and gained the [Biological Shaper] power. From here, her life spiralled into stress and misery as she attempted to compensate for her adoptive mother's belief that she was as evil as her father by healing people for hours every day until the pressure and compassion fatigue left her a dry, bitter husk with no real care left for the people she saves. Amelia is steadily crumbling into despair, deathly afraid that she will break one of her rules and become the monster she knows she could be. Like I said, this doesn't change anything. You haven't done anything wrong and you're still, like, my best friend. Sins of the father is bullsh*t anyway, your mum is f*cked."

Dial tone. She'd hung up.

I shouldn't have said that, I'd known she had the emotional fortitude of fairy floss when it came to this, had it spelled out to me every time I looked at her. I covered my mouth with one hand and placed my phone back down, laying my other hand over it, tapping my forefinger against the desk rapidly. I stared into my computer screen with glazed eyes, not seeing my coursework for the next unit in my long list comprised of every unit Harvard offered. I should call Victoria, tell her Amy was going to do something very stupid, make sure someone was there for her-

AYAYA-

"Hello?!"

"Sorry about that," said Amy, her voice cool, composed, with a depth I'd never heard before. "I'm good now. Great, even. Better than ever."

"What did you take?!" I asked. "I know you've been experimenting."

Amy hummed an amused note. "Something I should have taken a long time ago. I was blind, Greg, but now I see."

Oh boy. This was not epic. Amy was in many ways an incredibly strong person, moral and enduring in a way few could be, but she was also kind of a mean petty bitch and if she was playing around with cognitive and mood enhancers on my advice to circumvent her power restrictions there was a chance those negative traits would come to the fore. Especially with what seemed to be a snap decision in a moment of stress.

"What did you take, Amy?"

"You like to say you're twice as smart as everyone, what's that like?"

"It feels like I'm a normal person with a good memory but I don't think I've ever unironically said lines like 'blind but now I see'," I bit at my thumbnail. "How do you feel?"

"Like I was blind but now I see," Amy laughed, a warm rich chuckle. An affected chuckle. "All the fog has been wiped away. I had such a limited perspective, so little understanding, all wrapped up in my little teenager problems. I'm sure you must have thought I was a very silly girl."

I screwed my eyes shut and roughly scrubbed them with my knuckles. Why was she talking like a cliche villain? If the transformation of the east coast into a singular S-Class organism was my fault I might just cry.
"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I have to waste my life in hospitals. Who decided that? Carol's opinions matter to me. Who decided that? Vicky won't ever love me. Who decided that?" Amy's voice took on a manic hinge. "I'm going to break my rules one day? Who decided that!?"

"Do I need to come back to the bay?"

Amy was silent for a moment, her breath whistling harshly into the receiver. "I think Coil wants to kill you because of your Observe power."

"Look, yes," I said with an exasperated sigh. "But don't change the subject."

"I'm sorry if I worried you," she replied in the faux casual voice of someone with a lot of natural acting talent but absolutely no practice, which was worrying in and of itself. I'd heard her try to act, she was absolutely dogsh*t. "Everything really is fine, I'm not about to go out and do anything stupid. I'm going to read this book you got me and unf*ck myself."

I wasn't buying it.

"I don't buy it," I said.

"I promise," said Amy.

"When you come down I think you should revise your formula, you sound like you've got that fake co*ke confidence. I bet if you heard yourself you'd cringe."

There was a slight catch to Amy's voice before she replied, like she'd just remembered modelling part of the mechanism off a junkie OD-ing in Emergency. "Relax, Greg. Seriously, I did do some actual planning for this beforehand, I've had it ready for quite some time. It's not dangerous and it's not addictive, it's just one big eye-opener and I think the reason you're so worried is because you don't respect my intelligence."

"Blame shifting is a bitch tactic." She was right, twelve was not a good score, it was below average. I respected her for other things, but not that. "The reason I'm so worried is that outside of your very narrow value system you don't make good choices, or does helping Victoria maim thugs count as moral?"

Amy trilled in amusem*nt. "Shame on you, Greg. But yes, I admit I have made poor choices in the past, like creating the monster that almost killed you that one time."

A hot flush crept up my neck.

"Shut up. Fine. Whatever. I'm worried because this is my fault, and it's my fault because…" the words didn't want to leave my tongue, but when they did they spilled off in a rush. "Because my high INT doesn't compensate for my low WIS. It made things worse. Happy? f*ck you."

"I think you might be my best friend, Greg."

I let my head drop onto the desk with a heavy thud. "You've always had a higher wisdom score than me. Always have, and that I can respect. I just really don't want you to Evolution half of America on some molly fueled power trip because I told you drugs were cool."

"Greg," Amy snorted. "You narcissistic idiot. If I can resist a thousand suggestions to do requests then I can resist whatever half baked idea excited you at the time."

"Well, how do I know you never made a cat girl Victoria girlfriend?"

"Because that was your fantasy, not mine. It's perfect for a low confidence guy like you but I could never be satisfied with anything but the real thing."

"Yeah, like you were such a Chad," I scoffed into the desk. "Also, shut up, I'm not low confidence. I'm going to be Triumvirate one day and then you'll have to admit I'm the real Chad."

"Ok," she said. "You're so high confidence that you need to tell everyone all the time."

"I see what you're doing and it isn't cute. There's absolutely nothing wrong with verbally affirming my goals at appropriate times."

"I think we both need help with our lives, Greg. You helped give me the final push I needed, how can I help you?"

Do my brain. I bit my tongue and counted to ten, trying to still the anxious storm brewing in my head.

"I'm on track," I said. "I really am. For a long time I…"

I prepared to say something I hadn't even admitted to myself, that I in all my vast intelligence just couldn't stand the idea of.

"I had this constant sense of panic that my wisdom would increase because every time it did I could see more of how much of a stupid oblivious asshole I am, and that being that asshole was my fault. I kind of played up being an ignorant sh*t-head because doing wise things made me wiser, and if I could just avoid that I could stay in my comfort zone. And so I ignored everyone who tried to help me, as an asshole does, and I alienated people because I didn't want to know any better. Maybe I deserve the PTSD, could have just told Armsmaster no, it was obviously against the rules, and then Nazi's wouldn't have tried to kill me. But I'm talking to a PRT therapist again soon, so hopefully that helps."

"Greg, I," Amy stalled for a moment. "I didn't expect that WIS would actually do that. You'd always brag about your INT score but you never seemed that smart."

"I'm acing all my college courses at Harvard," I said mulishly.

Amy hmmed. "What's your wisdom at now?"

"Thirteen."

"And what was it the last time we spoke?"

"Nine."

"We should hang out," she said suddenly. "I'll come to Boston. I actually miss you, you know. I can remember all these times where I acted like I only talked to you because you knew my secret, but really, you can be fun sometimes. I'm sure I wasn't always a prize myself, so grouchy and snide."

"I did think that to myself a lot of times."

Amy chuckled. "Yeah, same."

"Do you think I deserve to suffer?" I asked after a few moments of silence.

"No," Amy said slowly. "You probably brought a lot of it on yourself, but I don't think you deserve it. And neither do I for that matter, f*cking Carol. It's not our fault, Greg, it's theirs. The Carol's and Germans of the world."

"Gamers rise up."

"Well, yes. Anyway, I'm going to go start reading and I'll text you when I'm coming. Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah, seeya Amy," I said, and ended the call.

I still wasn't totally convinced that half the country wouldn't end up looking like a gigantic scale replica of Victoria's boobs by tomorrow morning but she seemed pretty sane, or she was trying really hard at pretending to be which had to do until I could check her. The world was safe, for now.

The high power PRT standard motorbike thrummed powerfully between my knees, the sound just different enough from the Hogs those Fallen goons rode to not trigger me too hard.

We'd been given a crash course in driving all the cars and bikes Protectorate members who weren't movers got to take out as the first activity of our joint training week, and so far the bikes were my favourite. The cars were cool, sure, nothing like a bit of multi-track drifting, but through the bike, I could channel my Grace.

I took the corner at speed, moving at an almost right angle, the tires squealing briefly before I gunned the throttle and brought the bike back to full speed. It was almost meditative, the way the wind rushed against my body, in time with the loudness of the engine and the brief feelings of weightlessness of my physics-defying turns; I was in control.

I sped past the other Wards who were sitting around and chatting, having had their fill of riding and driving.

I made an effort to push all my worries away and focus on the bike. I was a void and the only thing that existed was my moving through space.

I sped past everyone again.

My fears didn't exist here, only the road on which I rode.

Another lap.

And another, until it started to grow dark.

A giant red stop sign suddenly blossomed into being in front of me. I jerked, hitting the breaks as hard as I could, burning rubber filling the air as I fishtailed to a stop. I looked over as Tyrone jogged toward me across the track.
"Everyone's gone to dinner, man. We're getting Chinese takeout, you better hurry up because I don't think anyone wants to wait any longer."

"Thanks," I said, swinging my leg off the bike and straightening my back with a wince. "I really appreciate you not leaving me out."

He gave a little shrug of a smile like he had no idea why anyone would do that. "Yeah, no probs."

"No, I really appreciate it. You're a good friend."

"Are you trying out strats from that friend book?" he said.

"Uh, I am but I really mean it."

"It's cool."

I killed the engine and started walking back to the bike shed with him. I was going to buy that nigg* so many booster packs for his birthday.

"You're on your usual patrol route and it's starting to get late. You're on your way back when Console calls you and says someone's reported possible parahuman activity at a nearby convenience store. The chance is low, but you and your partner head over anyway to check it out," Harrison paused to wet his lips, tongue leaving a tiny drop of spit in the corner of his moustache. "You get there and there's no obvious parahuman, but, you do see a nervous-looking young man, and you can also see that a corner of his jacket is heavily weighed down and he looks like he's trying to hide it. How do you respond?"

I stared blankly. Why had we never had anything like this in Brockton? Every three months here they got a little training course, but never in Brockton. The only reason I got any extra training was because of Armsmaster, but it wasn't on stuff like this and I'd never heard from anyone else that they got trained like this.

The police had an academy, but I had absolutely no idea if the protectorate did too. Maybe it did, just not in Brockton? And nobody in Brockton got to hear about it? I felt the gears in my brain grind to a halt, I had to be missing something.

Jetstar kicked my foot under the table, "we approach and tell him to empty his pockets."

"I think you should take point and ask the guy running the store about the call in," I said, resisting the urge to kick her back. She was as smoking hot as Tyrone said, but I wasn't really into bossy chicks. "And let me feel out the guy."

"The store owner is a dead-end who got spooked," she shook her head vigorously. "There obviously aren't any capes here, therefore we get this guy to show his gun and hold him for the cops."

"Yeah, maybe it is a gun but we don't want to scare the guy and have him shoot someone-"

"I'm fully armoured and you said you had combat thinker powers, versus one guy with a pea shooter. He can't do anything to us, and if he tries we arrest. It's that easy."

I understood the need to flex your massive dick and make sure everyone knew it, but that was too much of an early, low confidence Greg move and this was clearly an exercise to help us understand alternative methods of policing that weren't beating up bad guys; especially since we were Wards and the data said people don't like that so much. Most of the time, unless it was one of those daytime talk-show scenarios where a kid shoots a robber and everyone coos over how brave they were.

I picked at the edge of our work paper with a thumbnail, glancing over at where Tyrone sat with Lily; lucky bastard. I bet Lily knew how to handle suspect dudes with a little tact and rationality.

"Is that what your classes in New York said to do?"

Jetstar leant back in her chair, put her hands behind her head and kicked one leg up over the other, a superior smirk that really worked on her sexy lips. "You can't always do what they tell you."

As grateful as I was my visor hid my eyes I wrenched my view away from her confidently puffed out chest, "oh yeah, I know what that's like. Absolutely we could deal with it if he had a gun, easily before he even gets his finger on the trigger. I'm more thinking about what happens to that guy-"

"Even if we give him a chance to go before he commits a crime, he's just going to commit one later. Someone who's going to rob a convenience store isn't going to shape up because we turned up."

"Jail is f*cked, though," I said, pouting. "He'll go from armed robbery to worrying about dropping soap."

"Yeah, it is sh*t," Jetstar leant forward again, putting her elbows on our desk. "It's where you go for committing crimes though, and the guy knows that. Telling him won't make a difference."

"This is still all assuming he has a gun and is going to commit a crime, which is what I was angling for at the start where you go and talk to the owner while I use my thinker powers to see if he has a gun or if he's just nervous."

"And if he does and flips out, you can handle it?"

"Of course," I said.

"Ok," Jetstar spread her hands out, showing me her palms. "We'll do it like that. By the way, what are your powers? Combat and social thinker? Flechette said you learned Japanese with your powers, and you're clearly also some kind of brute and mover. Grab Bag?"

I mirrored her leant in posture, making sure to shift my chair so I was exactly forty-five degrees from hers. "Power stacking trump."

Jetstar frowned slightly, her head co*cking to one side. "Were you Dauntless?"

I huffed.

"No, Dauntless is a different guy. And he's, like, twenty-five."

"But you're also a stacking trump?"

"Yes."

"As in, power goes up?" she traced a line in the air with her finger that started on a sharp incline and slowly levelled off to near flat.

"Yes."

"What kinds of powers?"

"I have a list," I said, poking a dozen dot points in the air. "But uh, we do have that big group spar soon so I don't want to give too much away."

"Yeah, fair's fair," she said after a moments pause, then deliberately turned to her answer sheet and scribbled out my plan. "You're still going to lose, so I can see why you'd want to have a surprise ready."

"Bold words coming from the losing team."

"And big talk coming from a team with no specialisation, we're going to wipe the floor with you."

"You say that," I said. "But I'm going to be Triumvirate one day."

Jetstar tilted her head back sceptically. "You serious?"

I nodded.

"Whatever, dude. Come back when you can break the sound barrier and shoot lasers," she jabbed at her chest with her thumb. "Then we'll talk."

"And what if I already can?" I challenged.

Jetstar leant way into my personal space and poked my shoulder roughly. "Prove it."

A hot flush of shame started to creep up my neck and as I was about to shut my mouth my head split.

We don't have to take this.

I was right, I didn't. I was going to be Triumvirate someday. The speed would come, but lasers would be easy.

"Give me a minute," I sneered, settling into a more comfortable sitting position and activating my meditation skill. Both minds focused inward as I delved into the calm lake of my mana, all the way to the bottom. I breathed evenly, circulating it around me, drawing in in and out in slow fluctuating pulses, each one condensing further into a specific point on my body. The mana started to crystalise so I let it go and started again, it needed to stay in a malleable state. My energy gathered again, loose and flowing, too loose, I compressed as far as I could-

Opened my eyes, pointed at the wall and let fly. A thin, bright blue laser burst from my fingertip and hit the wall with the sound of spitting oil, burning a little black smudge on the paint.

I grinned at Jetstar victoriously, savouring her sour expression.

"OI!"

I flinched and looked up at Harrison. His moustache bristled as he strode over to our desk, looming with crossed arms of disappointment.

"That's one strike. Two more and you're out of here."

"Sorry, sir," I cringed into my chair.

He exhaled loudly through his nose in extra disappointment, "ok, everyone switch partners again. Come on, quick."

I gave Jetstar one last lingering look of superiority before swiping my papers, getting up and moving to sit with Noodle.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"Stuff," I shrugged.

"Alright! Next scenario!" Harrison called from back on his perch, a big desk at the front of the conference room. "You're in the park and you come across a few teenage boys making a fire under a tree. It's late autumn and there's a lot of dry leaves about and you're certain you just saw one of them light it by clicking his fingers; how do you respond?"

"Come on!" I cheered, jogging backward over the mud pit like it was sand. "That's it!"

Hunch gasped for breath, his caveman jaw hanging loose as he clawed his way through the mud that threatened to suck him down. Just in front of him, Daisy dragged herself out of the pit, eyes sunken into her head with exhaustion, and flopped onto the grass. When Hunch got close enough she limply held out a hand to drag him the last, hardest step.

"Awesome work guys!" I clapped enthusiastically, patting them on the back and lifting them back onto their feet. "You're almost there."

I looked up ahead, up the other nine kilometres of obstacle course, and then back to them. Hunch and Daisy, being strictly non-combatants, had both skipped out on one too many gym sesh's.

They groaned inarticulately.

"Doing great!" I gave them a beaming smile and pulled them forward. "I'll be back in a sec."

I turned and set off at a quick run. Our activity for today was a 'Tough Mudder' style course, which while it was easy as pie for me it was gruelling for everyone without a brute power, thus making it my job to inspire the team to victory. I hopped over a six-foot wall and sprinted up a punishingly steep, slippery hill.

"Lookin' fit, buddy," I slapped Tyrone on the back, almost sending him sprawling down the slick hill.

"f*ck," he gasped, swiping wildly at me with one hand and anchoring himself on a tuft of grass with his other. "Off!"

I laughed and grabbed his hand, hauling him up the hill and setting him gently down at the peak, "less cards more cardio, fa*gboi."

He made to swipe at me again but I jumped backward, skating down the other side of the hill and continuing on until I reached the gaggle that was Valerie, Fred, Norm, Jetstar, Noodle, Shaman and Bangarang all trying to balance across a pair of elastic bands stretched over a pool of murky brown water with varying levels of success.

Weld was somewhere up ahead and I had a feeling he skipped this one on account of weighing a few hundred kilos. Man, f*ck Cauldron.

Shaman slipped on one foot, the sudden change of balance sending the rubber bands twanging as he fell into the muddy water with a strangled gasp. He surfaced, wiping grit off his face as the equally gritty assembled group made sympathetic noises and encouragement while he pulled himself out and retook his place in the line.

Valerie, the next in line, approached the bands. She crouched down and gingerly crawled her hands out, one on each band, and then carefully placed her right foot down only to immediately slip and fall face-first into the water.
The audience made more sympathetic noises.

This wouldn't do. I hopped forward, gliding through the air, the bands bouncing me gently as I landed with one foot on each. I put my hands on my hips, inhaled deeply, and sighed.

"Come on Boston Gang, we know New York Gang are losers but they're pretty much tied with us. We needs them gloating rights! Imagine us at the end of the week having finally beaten them! Boston Gang rise up!"

"Losers?!" Bangarang shouted, pushing forward and readying herself in front of the bands. "Eat sh*t and die, we're going to win!"

I kept my feet on the bands, steadying them as she started her crawl, fighting a powerful urge to do the splits when she was halfway. That was Old Greg behaviour and I hadn't illegally downloaded a pdf of How to Win Friends and Influence People for nothing. I slowly walked back as she approached, shooting a smile to the other side-

Ok, I was doing the right thing, ignore the bad thoughts. It's not your fault.

I kept my smile plastered on-

And kept stabilising the bands. I stepped back onto the bank and moments later Bangarang clawed her way up, taking a moment to catch her breath before shooting me a dirty look and jogging away, taking care to jostle me with her elbow. But that was fine, I'd upset her knowing she was hyper-competitive.

I hopped back onto the bands as Jetstar, apparently not to be outdone on anything, practically leapt forward to be next. I looked over my shoulder at Bangarang, and then past her to where Lily was, too far to be visible. My god would I have loved to watch her crawl towards me.

"So the Undersiders rob a bank and just the Wards get sent out? Where were the PRT Troopers?"

"I don't know," Amy said. "I wasn't there."

"And then Piggotfinedthem?"

"That's what Vicky said Dean said."

I didn't have words for this bullsh*t. What the f*ck was Piggot doing? What the f*ck was the Youth Guard doing? Why wasn't a PRT captain leading? Where were all the actual Protectorate members? Why were under-trained Wards being sent out against villains that had violent crimes to their name? I was newer than them and even I had more training even though I'd only been in Boston for like a month.

"What the f*ck," I breathed. "And they didn't appeal the fine? Has nobody even read their contract?"

"Greg, I don't know, I wasn't there."

"Why not? Didn't you go and heal them up?" I snapped, glancing over to where everyone was distracted playing Lets Dance. "Piggot can't just do that, that's months of wages just gone."

"f*ck you, I don't have to go running every time someone gets a booboo. Those pills have given me the biggest f*cking headache all day, I don't need you making it worse."

I wanted to snap at her, tear down her stupid bitch worldview, but I was angry at Piggot, not Amy.

"Why do you care anyway," she continued. "I'm not really friends with them and neither are you."

"But Iwantto be!" I hissed, the word a venomous snake wrapped around my neck. That they didn't like me was my fault, I wanted to make that right and show them the real Greg. The one they would like.

"Ok," said Amy wearily.

I heard a computer mouse clicking in the background. Clearly this wasn't the best time to talk to her about this, and I'd already checked if she was feeling holdover megalomaniacal tendencies so I figured I should talk to her when she was in a less distracted state.

"I'm gonna call Armsmaster, I'll talk to you later."

I barely waited for her to say goodbye before hanging up and thumbing through my contacts for Colin's number, still titled Bromaster, and dialling. The phone rang out and I was left with his voicemail. Damn it.

"It's Greg," I said after the beep. "Call me back about whatever this sh*t is about Piggot fining the Wards. Thanks, bye."

I clicked my tongue and walked back over to witness the showdown between Lily and Tyrone. I was sure it was an absolute mismatch but I couldn't actually see through Tyrone's illusions, so as far as I could tell they were tied even with Lily's perfect sense of timing. I leant up against the back of one lounge chair, behind Basilisk, thankful once again for my visor obscuring my sightlines to Lily's butt. But it probably wouldn't have mattered, my body language power was implying most people were staring too, binding us in patrician solidarity.

Our masks were all still on, but nobody had been bothering with the full uniform for a while which was a plus since sweats and a hoodie were comfier than my skintight, not quite breathable getup that collected sweat which, if not for my inventory, would render it unwearable and super gross.

I was going to ask her out. My resolve couldn't be shaken on this, only further solidified as I watched her dance to A Crazy Little Thing Called Love. There was nothing in her Observe to imply she was seeing anyone or anything, though there was a concerning bit about a villain being obsessed with her due to their group trigger but I don't think I had to worry about that kind of competition there.

I checked my phone, nothing.

The song ended, leaving Tyrone victorious and sadly booting Lily from the competition of Best Dancer New York vs. Boston.

I vaulted over the lounge, bouncing in the air with a double jump, and high fived Tyrone on the way down.

"You ready to get creamed, Bas?" I said over my shoulder.

Basilisk raised a lazy hand, bent his middle finger down, placed his thumb over it and flicked, sending his hat spinning into the air. It revolved five times before landing directly back onto his head, his extended middle finger mocking me with its smug aura.

"Yes," he said.

I cackled, pumping my fist-

AIYAYAYAYAI!

f*cking typical. I fished my phone out and accepted the call, "just one second."

I held my free hand out, shimmering blue streams coalescing into a clone. I touched my fingers to its neck, fine blue wires trailing from them as I drew my hand away.

"I have to take a call from Armsmaster real quick," I said, my second line taking over directing the clone as I edged around another lounge. "Sorry, I'll be right back. This guy is gonna dance for me on this one."

"Sorry," I said into the phone, making sure to keep an eye on the clone at all times. "Hello."

"Hello, Greg," Colin said in one of his less tired voices, and then, clearly remembering to be polite. "How are you?"

"Yeah, good thanks. So about Piggot fining the Wards?"

"I didn't actually know until you called. You remember we transferred control of the Wards to the PRT at the start of the year, yes?"

"Yes."

"It's been great for my work progress-"

I rolled my eyes.

"-and until now I hadn't heard anything untoward about the director's management. I did hear about the robbery, however."

"Ok, so why were they fined?"

"Let me see…" he trailed off and went silent for a moment. "Looks like Gallant called in Glory Girl who caused some property damage, and the Wards pay was docked to compensate."

I drew in an angry breath but he cut me off.

"No, you're right, this isn't right. I can't for the life of me think of a reason why they were fined, what was the director thinking?" Colin muttered under his breath for a bit. "They were just supposed to stall until we could get there, but the Undersiders fled before we arrived. I already spoke to Kid Win about his Alternator Cannon, and let me tell you his segmented teleport system is a fabulous design, I'm definitely going to incorporate it into my Halberds, but it's not afinableoffence…"

He'd trailed off again.

"Where were the PRT?" I demanded.

I could almost hear the severity of his frown.

"Not deployed alongside them. This makes even less sense, surely a single truck could be spared? A foam sprayer could have netted us the lot." Colin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "The altercation was over well before we got there, so it was not attached in my report, and I didn't read the Wards reports since that's the director's job now. I understand why you're confused."

"f*ckinggood! Can we do something about it?"

"Well," Colin hesitated. "I don't particularly have a lot of time."

He seemed to sense that I thought this answer was unacceptable.

"But I'll send an email."

Oh my god, was I about to lecture f*cking Armsmaster onhow to do his job? Yes, apparently I was. f*ck me.

"You have to stand up for them," I marshalled all my power to keep my voice steady. "They clearly don't know they have options. This has got to be months worth of their wages, how can Piggot punish them for something that they really shouldn't be responsible for? They need you on their side or nothing will change. Imagine if this happened with your team, you'd stand up for them, right?"

"Nobody would dare to do this to my team."

"Exactly! Because you're Armsmaster. And the Wards need your help-"

"Enough, Greg. I understand. I suppose I can make some time to sort this out," he heaved a sigh. "I can already see the meeting we'll need with the Youth Guard. You can't imagine the tedium."

"It's the right thing to do," I protested. "You can't just let Piggot do this."

"I'll set things right, Greg, unfortunately I can't ignore this now that I know. Actually, maybe I can get Miss Militia to sub in on the meeting, I have a lot to do and it'll give me some time back to whip up something I had planned for you. An additional quest reward of sorts. Nothing fancy, but your Armsmajor title gives you an armour bonus so I was going to get around to asking if you wanted me to redesign your Dark Smoke Puncher costume into something a bit sturdier."

I had so many ideas, but we could deal with that later.

"Thank you so much, that sounds amazing," I said with as much gratitude as I could project. "How many people can say they have something made by Armsmaster? Before that though, could you let me know how the talk with Piggot goes?"

"Yes, yes, I'll keep you updated. Don't hold your breath, something like this could take months and there's only so much time I can be bothered to spend on it," Colin said without the slightest hint of apology.

I supposed it was better than nothing.

"I'll send over some sketches for my new uniform, I'd like to know how you make stuff actually. I've never talked to Chris about the actual process for t-"

"Sure," Colin interrupted. "Send them over and I'll get around to it. I have to go now, goodbye."

He hung up immediately, as usual. But something was done, a step had been taken in a direction. Whether I had done enough, I didn't know, but if nothing had happened in a month or two I could always email the Youth Guard rep myself. Hopefully all it took was Armsmaster mentioning this and they'd get their money back.

I inventoried my phone and turned my full attention back to where Basilisk was cutting my clone a new f*ckhole with his mad shapes. I cracked my neck and prepared myself for the sickest pop and lock of my life.

Our last activity before the big group spar tomorrow was a scavenger hunt and by some unprecedented divine act I was partnered with Lily; truly I had both god and anime on my side. This was my biggest chance to impress her and I was not going to squander it like I had so many other opportunities over the years.

"And then the first hobo says, 'Sure, we can switch, but I lost the sausage six bars ago'."

Lily chuckled the gurgling chuckle of both disgust and amusem*nt, which was miles better than the utterly tepid reaction I'd gotten last time I told this joke.

I grinned stupidly, my heart hammering in my throat, my tooth twinkle sparkling. "Actually," I suppressed a voice crack. "I have something even better!"

I materialised my phone, typing 'its hip to f*ck bees' into youtube, and shoved it under her nose.

"What movie is this?" she asked as Bateman started talking about Hewey Louis and the News.

"American Psycho, it's actually really good, we should all watch it tonight and like, cover Hunch's eyes when it gets to the naughty bits."

Lily hmmed, engrossed in the clip.

I held my breath as we walked. She didn't look like she liked it as much as me. I relaxed a little when she smirked and chuckled when the song changed before handing me back the phone.

"The movie does look good, what's it about?"

"It's a dark comedy about that guy being crazy." Oh, thank Christ, at least she didn't hate it. "I guess it's also social commentary, but funny."

"Cool. Hey," she pointed to the glinting pin holding a man's tie to his shirt. "I think that's next on our list."

"Yeah," I Observed. "It is."

I can't believe she didn't like its hip to f*ck bees that much. What was wrong with it? Was it too niche? Did she just have to have seen the movie first? Both movies? Should I link her to the KYM page?

While Lily was getting the tie pin I quickly texted Sveta.

Greg: hip to f*ck bees slaps, right?

I had to do something else, what would impress her? What would come off as both impressive and natural and not try hard in the slightest? The prevailing consensus on the internet was that I just had to be myself, bro, and while that seemed to be working out on some level, it wasn't enough. I kept my frown off my face as Lily walked back over to me, it was time to do something radical. Something crazy, but crazy was my middle name.

"Catch," she lifted the pin up, a little glinting gold PRT logo, and lobbed it to me.

I let my enhancement skill burst open, focusing it fully on my charisma stat, boosting it to fully double. I smiled with the force of a full thirty-four CHA, pouring into it my happiness, my positivity and my will to take her out to a nice dinner and hold her hand-

"Nice one, Flechette!"

-and in her pleased smile, I couldn't see any of my attraction returned. My blood ran cold, it had to be a mistake. My body language skill wasn't high enough, or I wasn't attuned to such high charisma and missed a subtle signal, or, or-

Why?! We've made so much progress! It wasn't supposed to be like this!

Can't our quests predict the future, isn't that why the true love one runs out soon? Lily was the one?

Yes! It has to be, the only other girl we've felt like this for was Victoria and some of that was fake!

Right? The timing is too perfect, she's too perfect a fit. The quests don't lie

The quests don't lie. Everything is aligned, us, Lily, the quest timer, her being able to shank Endbringers. We aren't failing this, she likes us-

So why doesn't she like like us?

My other Greg was silent because I had no idea why. It didn't make sense. Lily did like me, that much was plain as day, but apparently only in a friend capacity. I'd been friend-zoned. It figures, why would girls start liking me now? They never had before. Granted that was entirely on me, but I thought things were different. That I'd changed.

Not enough, apparently.

I caught the pin and put it in my inventory with the rest of our scavenged loot.

"Ok, so next we have to find a specifically monogrammed handkerchief," my mouth was saying. "I haven't seen one on any of the other floors, so we have to go up."

I really thought I was good enough this time.

"Trumpets," said Hunch. "Trumpets and bookmarks."

We nodded and stroked our chins knowingly, trumpets was a decent read from Hunch's power and the addition of bookmarks tipped it increasingly positive. Personally, I wasn't sure how accurate it was ever since we figured out that at the very least Dez's precog got increasingly wrong when I started creating spells on the fly until it finally adjusted.

"Team," Weld held out his hand palm down. "We've got this."

In turn we piled our hands atop his, our spirits welded together by the torch of friendship and glory.

I licked my lips nervously as the lights reflected off of everyone's masks, polished to a mirror sheen. I hadn't slept well last night, tossing and turning over my wretched discovery, not getting enough to even get my Healthy buff and I missed it terribly. I'd almost forgotten the enormous difference it made on my general mood to not start the day in perfect health, it was one more thing I no longer envied about past Greg; he may have been happier but he was an oblivious, ignorant retard.

I was so much better than him.

"Boston gang!" he barked, raising his hand high from under the pile in a fist.

"Boston gang!" I croaked raising my own fist, voice drowned out by the louder cries of my team. We lowered our fists and I equipped my Anypole, the form flowing into a sleek, solid steel, intricately crafted long-bladed spear. It glinted dully as I gave it a test swing, my enhanced strength easily carrying it in smooth, easy circles.

I noticed Weld's eyes on me and I reluctantly met them, giving him a small nod. Last night, after the team huddle, he'd taken me aside and asked if this was going to be a repeat of the other training situation, and then asked if it could be if we were going to lose. I didn't want to lose, but I'd promised to wait until the last minute before I unleashed the beast to give everybody a chance to try their hardest.

We lined up on one side of the spacious padded room, mirrored by the Lancers, missing only Daisy as the sole true non-combatant. Even Hunch was having a go, despite that he was usually mission command his cauldron vial mutations made him hardy and strong.

"You're all ready?!" Nitroman called out from the sidelines, because apparently we needed adult supervision to beat the sh*t out of each other. "Start in five! Four! Three! Two! One! Go!"

Mana poured into my spear, binding to it with a blue glow. I let go, the spear floating up in front of me, and split my mind having the second track control it. I figured it would be a decent enough challenge to fight using only an ability I had literally never trained and a spell I had only just created.

I stalked toward my first opponent.

"I've got muh whackin' stick, bitch, you reddy to get smacked?" I hollered at Basilisk, who cast his hat aside dramatically, then dodged a scorching blue beam from Jetstar. I turned to see her rocketing toward me like a particularly ostentatious missile. I gathered myself and swung into the air, managing to bounce off her back as she passed under me only to get singed by her boot thrusters.

I span on a dime, turning to face them just in time to see Basilisk grab her outstretched hand and slingshot her around back at me. My spear whipped out, causing her to veer off to the side giving me a gap to rush Basilisk who met me with a long, clawed kick.

I elbow blocked into his ankle and shifted low for my spear to fly over my head and drive him back with a series of feinting thrusts. He turned a stumble into a tail whip, opening up a thin cut on my cheek that burned like I'd been branded.

I pressed my hand to my face, pushing back against the stinging pain, and pulled it away bloody.

"sh*t, sorry!"

"S'fine," I grit my teeth. "Just wasn't expecting it. We're good."

Basilisk made a face that might have been a contrite smile, but it was hard to tell as he didn't have lips or skin that wrinkled or remotely human facial features.

I jumped toward him, aiming a big telegraphed kick at his head, then bounced off the air in a double jump right over his head. His surprised gaze followed me right up until the butt end of my spear rammed into his back. A blast from Jetstar clipped my leg as I landed -focus, Greg!- and I back-flipped away, double-jumping again over another blast.

My spear spun like a buzz saw as I circled them at a run, harrying Jetstar as I closed back in on Basilisk.

I dodged, bobbed, weaved, dipped, dived and dodged his ceaseless attacks. He was actually almost as good as me, in pure skill and reflexes, but lacking the myriad powers that put me in my own weight class.

"Can't you fight without your little stick?" he hissed, taking a step back, eyes narrowed in focus. "Because this isn't going to tire me out."

I figured it would be rude to say that I was purposefully holding back and that I could take his whole team at once, but, it was also true.

"I promised Weld I wouldn't."

Basilisk paused. "Dude, what?"

"This is a team effort, Weld made me promise," I said apologetically, shrugging, pointing at Jetstar who had been prevented from using her air supremacy to dominate the battle by Tyrone who had blanketed the area in an illusion to achieve this very effect. "I have to let everyone have a go first."

Basilisk scoffed and tried to sucker-punch me with a lightning-quick jab, following it up with a roundhouse kick and a whirling tail strike. I dodged back, and then to the side, flowing smoothly around his attacks.

Jetstar had apparently given up fighting me as a bad job and was zooming over to the other side of the room where Jouster was keeping Weld hemmed in with ineffectual elemental charges from his lance. I recalled my spear, having it skim near the ground and collect Basilisks feet out from under him with the haft. Basilisk, in a truly impressive feat of agility, twisted in mid-air to land on all fours and in the same movement leapt at me in a big bounding jump.

He took me off my feet as I gasped in surprise at the speed of his jump, and we landed in a scrabbling tangle, each trying to muscle the other into submission. I guided my spear to grind its butt into his armpit, and as he twisted to get away from the annoying pain I put my right hand onto his right shoulder, grabbed his same wrist with my left, and pulled him close into a shoulder lock, mushing his face into the padded floor. He struggled, but I was stronger, and between that and my spear floating menacingly near his head he tapped out.

I let go and we flopped apart, breathing heavily.

"Good match," Basilisk said stolidly, lizard tongue playing over his peg-like teeth. "Sorry again about your cheek."

I put my hand to it again, probing the slice, and found that it was barely bleeding. I shook my head and smiled, getting to my feet, "it'll heal up in a few minutes, don't worry."

I held out a hand and pulled Basilisk to his feet, "it was a good match, you're crazy fast."

He exhaled loudly through his nose, "you said you weren't trying."

"Aw, that doesn't matter," I let go of his hand, still smiling. "You're still fast."

He grumbled and sloped off to the side of the room- there was a popping whoosh and I stumbled to my knees, back aflame with pain. I crawled to my feet, vision grey and blurred as Hans clawed his face in agony on the ground-

"-u okay?"

My ears whined with a tinnitus buzz as I whipped my head from side to side, searching desperately for that Nazi f*ck.

"-meant to be the lowest setting, are you okay?" Jetstar floated around into view, gauntlets twisting over each other in front of her.

I scrabbled a hand over my back, searching for the knife but finding only neat, undamaged uniform. The burning pain of my Arc Flash vanishing as quickly as it arrived, fading back into the grubby little corner of my mind from whence it came.

"Yes, fine," I grimaced a plastic smile. "Thank you for shooting me in the back."

"You should pay more attention," her arms crossed over her breastplate, obscuring the glowing orb in the centre.

I could feel the thin string of my patience fraying. I growled, my spear leaping back into my right hand even as wire-fine threads spooled from my left, creeping through the air and gently wrapping around Jetstar.

She suddenly accelerated up, almost taking all my fingers off as I squeezed them into a fist and let myself be dragged along after her. I pulled hard on the mana strings, my Grace making the motion of wrenching myself closer almost effortless, the extended reach of my spear letting me whack her across the helmet hard enough to make her wobble. Jetstar dove suddenly, the ground coming up to meet us at a frightening pace.

I dissolved the wires as she burst sideways at an almost right angle, landing heavily, but safely, where she expected to whip me into the floor.

I was suddenly struck by a disorienting moment of clarity; how f*cked was it that I could hit her with a spear, or she could try pile-drive me headfirst into the floor, and it was considered OK.

A headache started throbbing in my left temple. I was going to have to break my promise, sorry Weld, but Jetstar was just too god damn aggravating.

I inventoried my spear, cast Cuttlefish Skin, and vanished from view.

Jetstar immediately zoomed backwards, firing her repulsor beams wildly, but not fast enough. I charged, leapt, and grappled her in a bear-hug. We fell as I encased her in a solid shell of mana and I landed us as gently as I could, feeling her struggle futilely against her restraints, trying to burn through them with her boot thrusters. I clenched my fists as the urge to punch her as hard as I could while she was down surged to the forefront of my mind, but I picked her up and heaved her atop my shoulders like a big blue sushi roll, jogging over to where Basilisk, Hunch, Valerie and Fred sat in the losers corner. I balanced the Jetstar sushi against the wall and dissolved the mana shell, where she wilted into a sullen pile.

"We're gettin' our asses kicked, huh?" I asked Fred.

"Just go win for us, dude," he said tiredly, rubbing at a swelling wrist.

I nodded, sighing heavily and jogged back toward the action. Roulette was sparring fiercely with Flechette, and both looked like they were in Flow state so I figured I should let them be. Tyrone and Shaman were nowhere to be seen, but that was to be expected as Tyrone's whole job was to disorient the enemy and deprive Jetstar and Shaman of their air superiority.

Weld was now getting double teamed by Bangarang and Jouster while Norman ineffectually chased around Noodle, it was like bullying. Were they bullying Weld?

Bangarang would skate across the ground like a writhing octopus and hit Weld from a blind spot, bouncing him away with a big bass reverberation into the path of Jouster who would jet forward and lance Weld with a crackle of lightning, flame or ice. None of it was doing any damage, but still.

I let off a bright flash and loud crack, drawing all attention in the room. I raised an arm, slowly, pointing at Jouster and Bangarang.

"Which one of you bitches wants to dance?"

They stopped, Bangarang turning to Jouster. "Well it has to be me, right? You took out Bassy and Jet, no way I'm gonna not getting a piece of that sh*t."

Jouster co*cked his head and paused, glancing to Weld and then back to me. "Yeah. Go for it."

"Thanks, chief!" Bangarang cracked her knuckled theatrically, failing to produce any actual cracks, then jumped forward into a power-slide that took her a full three meters. She popped to her feet and swaggered toward me. "So you really are some kinda super Trump, huh?"

"Yes," I said.

The acknowledgement was nice, but my headache was getting worse. My skin crawled, I was itching to hurt someone, to hit them like I had Armsmaster. Unrestrained and without hesitation. Actually, maybe I just wanted to hit Armsmaster again.

I took a deep shuddering breath, then exhaled every last molecule of air in my lungs. I should just leave, who cared if I was some kinda super Trump? Lily wasn't into me, I was scared of my own reflection and the power mafia was going to come knocking any day now. I should go see Sveta, I should go see Amy, I should go see mum and dad and I should go apologise to Taylor.

Bangarang started saying something else but I wasn't paying attention. I looked at Weld, so shiny and chrome, watching me with folded arms.

"Sorry, bro, but I want to get this done, do you mind?"

Then he unfolded his arms, his expression unfolding into something tender. He took a step and started walking toward me. I stood rooted to the spot, what was he doing?

"Greg," he said softly, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. "Are you ok?"

I glanced down at my shaking, clenched fists. Ah, my acting skill control had slipped.

"I think I'm going to hurt someone," I whispered. "Can I go sit down for a bit?"

His grip tightened on my shoulder and he nodded. "Of course, of course. Anything you feel you need to, do."

"Sorry," I muttered.

"It's ok."

"Sorry," I said again.

"It's alright."

Even though I had no chance, even though it would be soul-destroyingly futile, I had to try.

I'd managed to dawdle in exactly the right way as we all walked back from the dinner we had to buy the New Yorkers on account of losing, ending up next to her at the back of the group. It was now or never. I Enhanced, bringing my charisma up to thirty-four and indisputably superhuman.

"I really like you, Lily, would you like to go on a date with me?"

Lily's mouth fell open slightly, her eyebrows raising. It was nice to finally see her face, we'd all unmasked to each other after everyone was done sparring, even if I'd sat most of it out.

"I'm gay."

It took the seven and a half seconds for my mana to run out before I responded.

"Oh," I said. "Ok."

"I mean, I would if I weren't gay."

The scene played out in my mind. Old Greg lies in the shed, spouting inane gibberish he'd read on the internet, about his favourite Space Opera campaign, about how the government was brainwashing people with tinkertech cell phone towers, his waifu. I open the door and he makes to escape, asking me if I read litRPG's, but I raise the gun I hold clenched in my hand, jamming it against his forehead. I look into his big blue eyes and squeeze the trigger, ahegao jpgs spray out the back of his ruined skull, coating the shed floor.

"But you're gay," I said.

"Yeah," Lily gave a rueful little smile.

"That's alright," I grinned, energised, unfettered glee bubbling up inside my chest. "I completely understand."

"I don't mean for this to make things awkward but that's how I feel, and I couldn't let the chance slip by."

"It's cool," Lily smiled, a little awkwardly. "But you should have asked Savannah out, she said she thinks you're really cute."

My head spun like a whip, zeroing in on her. Her flight suit really didn't do her justice, she looked like she could be a future supermodel with a face to match. I'd rate her point nine five on the Victoria Dallon scale. I tore my eyes away from her skintight jeans.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

I watch as Old Greg gasps, scrabbling in the dirty straw like an animal. I squeeze the trigger again, blood sprays from his neck.

"I would, but she seems pretty rude, is she nice?"

"She's not rude," Lily frowned. "She's just a bit too over-focused, apparently it's a Tinker thing."

Old Greg slobbers on his own arterial spray, wheezing air and choking on blood I hear him faintly mumble about nofap and sem*n retention. I pull the trigger again.

"Armsmaster's like that, so maybe it is, yeah," I shrugged, eyeing her again. It wasn't true, given both Chris and Fred, but I might have just misunderstood her. "Maybe I'll talk to her some more."

"She can be… overly intense, granted, but she's really sweet. If you're ever in New York, ask her if she wants to go ice skating."

More excited glee welled up in my guts, my blood was burning in my brain. I barely managed to control my voice as it verged on cracking. "You're a really good wingman, you know?"

"I haven't managed to hook her up yet," she shook her head despairingly.

"You will," I said, and winked.

I watch as the colour drains from Old Greg and he vomits poorly drawn H-Manga drafts onto the straw, I jam the gun against his temple and grab him by the throat. Behind his eyes, hundreds of dollars of Warhammer figurines stand in regimented columns, painted and untouched. We don't cotton to freaks around these parts, I tell him coldly and pull the trigger a final time. He disintegrates into Nesquik and I walk out of the shed without looking back as it starts to burn.

I settled uncomfortably on the office chair, squirming, unsure of where to put my hands.

"I prefer Greg."

Doctor Kolhatkar smiled, leaning forward on his desk. "It's very nice to meet you, Greg. I understand your last session was with my colleague Dr Yamada?"

I nodded.

"And that was your first session with us here. Would you like to start where you left off with Dr Yamada?"

"Uh, nah, I um didn't say much to her. I kinda mostly wanted to talk about the PTSD I got from when the E Eighty-Eight tried to kill Armsmaster and me."

Kolhatkar's brows furrowed, he nodded seriously, "would you tell me about the experiences you've had since?"

"Yeah," I smiled weakly. "So one of the guys had a power that let him hide in reflections, so now every time I see a reflection I start feeling really stressed. I even covered up my mirror in my bathroom, and the one time I looked at it I hallucinated and blacked out for ten minutes and woke up in the PRT lobby fully dressed. And sometimes when I get stressed I can hear them talking, or feel where the guy stabbed me, and the other day in sparring I thought I was back on that road for a moment," I blurted this all out in a rush, my heart hammering in my throat.

"I see," said Kolhatkar, leaning even more forward. "Would you say that you're currently feeling stressed?"

I nodded.

"I think we should try a body scan. It's a meditative technique that helps bring awareness to your body and what you're feeling, helping you understand more about where specifically this stress is affecting you physically. From there we can work on relaxing those parts as we work up to talking about your experiences over the next fifty minutes."

"Sounds good," I shrugged, picking at the sleeve of my hoodie.

He smiled kindly over his big bushy moustache. "Is your chair comfortable enough? There's a lever if you want to recline."

I pulled the chair back and settled down, but I couldn't get fully relaxed. I was too stiff, I tried to let go but I was sure it looked affected.

"First, start to bring your attention to your breath," Doctor Kolhatkar said gently, scooting his chair out from behind his desk and around to get within distance of me. "Make room for whatever you are feeling, including any areas of tension, heaviness, or constriction."

I took a great big breath and focused on the sensation of air going in and out of my nose. My mediation ability gave me a sense of the basic techniques, not that I practised them much. I tried to clear my mind, focusing only on the feel of my breathing. I felt my racing heart begin to settle.

After about thirty seconds Doctor Kolhatkar continued "Now, bring your awareness to your feet, legs, and hips. Notice the sensations in your muscles and on your skin."

I traced my awareness up my legs, noticing my tensed ankles and the squeeze of my shoes on my feet. The soreness in my quads and hammies of having done some f*cking heavy deadlifts earlier.

"Next, take a deep breath as you bring your attention into your torso, becoming aware of any sensations in your abdomen and lower back. Notice your spine and any sensations across your chest or upper back. Now, bring your awareness to your shoulders, arms, and hands. Notice any areas of tension or relaxation. Last, bring your attention to your neck, throat, and face. Notice your eyes, your mouth, and your tongue and the general sensations of your head. Take a final moment to notice your body as a whole."

I realised my back hurt, down in my shoulder-blades and up into the base of my neck, but it wasn't, like, workout soreness.

"Did you notice any unusual tension?"

"Yeah," I said, shifting slightly without opening my eyes. "Up in my back and neck"

"That's normal. Now we're going to try a relaxation exercise. I want you to, while breathing down deep into your belly, tense your neck and upper back as hard as you can for five seconds and then relax. It helps to visualise a time or place you're most relaxed as you do this."

I squeezed, counted, then let myself go loose as I tried my hardest to imagine I was at home. Dinnertime with mum and dad. Gaming with Sveta. Chilling with Amy. Playing Magic with Tyrone.

"Now move further down, tensing your shoulders and arms, five seconds, then release."

"And then continue all the way down your body."

I squeezed and waited and relaxed and squeezed and waited and relaxed and squeezed and waited and relaxed.

"Do you feel the tension subsiding?" Doctor Kolhatkar asked. "No? That's perfectly fine, let's give it one more go, shall we?"

I shifted uncomfortably and started with the exercise again.

"It's not really relaxing."

Kolhatkar hmmed, nodded, and shrugged. "That's ok too, I'd suggest you try it out in a place you feel more comfortable in."

I sat back up and stretched in my chair, twisting from side to side.

After a few moments of silence Doctor Kolhatkar realised I wasn't going to say anything without prompting.

"You brought up the time you were attacked, how about you tell me as much as you feel comfortable?"

"Yeah, ok," I said. "So, Nazi's, right? It's actually mostly this villain called Coil's fault, I think it's because he thinks he's going to come into contact with me and I'll find him out. I'm certain he got them to attack me somehow because I told Armsmaster who a couple of their capes were, which like, what the f*ck do they expect? Bunch of c*nts. Of course I'm going to tell people who they are to get them arrested! How can they be so f*cking stupid? Because let me tell you, those pieces of sh*t flout their 'unwritten rules' all the god damn time if they think they can get away with it. Miserable hypocritical dickhe*ds! I hate them so f*cking much! I've read thousands of pages of crime reports and they think they can get away with me not telling?"

My right leg bounced rapidly, my hands deforming the metal inside the armrests.

"Just the f*cking gall of it, and then they send people to kill me because I'm making it so they can't commit all the crimes they want! I didn't even leak the names, and the Protectorate doesn't do that! So they send these two literal f*cking Germans, who aren't even a part of the Empire, because they're such puss* bitches Kaiser can't even come and kill a fifteen-year-old by himself, and I don't even know where I had the guts to stand up to them like that because they were the ones behind this spree of murders where they blew these guys the f*ck up! I still have nightmares about just going-"

I made a squelching noise with my mouth, twisting the remains of the right armrest in my hands.

"-all over and then I wake up in a cold sweat. I'm lucky I barely need to sleep anymore or I'd be exhausted. That guy wasn't even the worst one though, I fought his sidekick, the guy who could hide in reflections. That's why I hate them now, every time I look at something shiny I start thinking, 'maybe he's in there, just waiting to come back and finish the job'. I even think that when I look at Weld."

I tossed the armrest to the floor and started on the other.

"It's not his fault he's so shiny. I think he's noticed it too, how I won't look directly at him much, and when I do I cringe. f*ck, poor Weld. Anyway, it was that guy, Hans, I had to stay or else Armsmaster would have died, and for that he starts trying to stab me! Eventually I nearly kill the both of us, and f*ck would I love to go back to that day like I am now. They wouldn't stand a f*cking chance," I snarled, tossing the mangled armrest aside where it embedded in the wall. I clenched my fist and unclenched it rapidly.

"It would be so god damn easy now to just," I mimed a stab. "Shank the f*cker back like he did me. I sometimes have dreams about that too, but they're better than the ones where they kill me. Anyway, so sometimes I have these really vivid hallucinations that I'm back there on that road."

I looked up, noticing that Kolhatkar had retreated to behind his desk again. Too late now, Greg has destroyed his cage. Yes. YES. Greg is out.

"And when we were doing those sparring sessions with New York, I really wanted to hurt someone. I was holding back because it was meant to be a team thing, and that gave me too much time to get worked up. I honestly think it would have gone perfectly fine if I just won as fast as I could, but I promised Weld-"

Quest 'Therapy II' complete!
Success: 50 000xp, 1 perk point

I had levelled up. After ignoring so many quests, not jerking Kolhatkar around like I had Yamada pushed me over the edge. Not that I did it for the quest, I did it for me. I was definitively a new Greg, capable of things the old Greg could never dream. And to prove that, definitively prove that, irrevocably prove that; I took the first WIS perk that opened up at fifteen points.

Meditation.

The effect was a simple boost to mana recovery and that it immediately kicked me into a meditative state of mind. I didn't have to sit there and do nothing with my eyes closed, though it was certainly much easier to do that, it was about focus. So long as I wasn't doing anything too distracting, and I was focusing, the meditation would stay.

Thus, I could attempt to create a fighting style that involved wielding seven swords and incorporated a rip off of Bangarang's break-dancing power which was more slide and glide than kinetic redirection, without having to worry about bottoming out on mana.

I hopped on one leg, using control object to shift the sword I had clenched behind one knee to the other. "Did you know Flechette is gay?"

"Hmm?" Tyrone looked up from where he was restructuring his Magic deck. "No, why? You asked her out didn't you?"

"Yeah, she shot me down though."

"The f*ck've you been so cheery about then? She's so nice, if she shot me down I'd die of shame."

"Well," I hopped, with a twist of my leg, passing the sword to my other knee narrowly avoiding stabbing myself. "She told me Jetstar was into me."

Tyrone flicked the card he was holding a few times, eliciting sharp taps. "Lucky bastard."

"I'm thinking I might go for it, she can't be that annoying."

"Just stick it in, bro!"

I scoffed, shifting the sword back again. "I was thinking about it, she can't be that bad, right?"

"No way man, I'd have to tell everyone you were a fa*g if you said no."

"Man, didn't you just tell me that you didn't want to date this girl who might be into you at your school?"

"She's fat," said Tyrone.

I hacked out a bark of laughter, backflipped while passing the sword behind my other knee, landed on my hands and struck at an imaginary Nazi with the sword. Not much power behind it.

"And you're a skeleton, opposites attract."

"I'm svelte," Tyrone flicked one of his many cheap dupes at me like a ninja star, missing by millimetres.

"Ok," I vanished the sword and flipped back to my feet, moving to pick up the card. "Anyway, I have no idea what I should say to her. I was doing some reading on it and I figure I should just start a normal conversation, like, 'hey, what's up, do you like x-box? What're you tinkering on?'"

Tyrone shrugged, "I don't have a better idea. Tinker stuff is all I've ever heard her talk about, go with that."

I walked over to him and sat down, tossing his card back to him. "Maybe I should ask her to tinker-fix your shrimp dick."

"You'd like that."

April 13th2011- Sveta

Sveta fretted on her pole. She smelled, she knew it, she hadn't scrubbed away all her tendril wax and he would be able to tell. And then she'd be so embarrassed she'd make an even bigger idiot out of herself. Or she wouldn't be able to speak loud enough, and trying to be louder would make her stutter and say wrong words. Something was going to go wrong, as always.

Her tendrils nervously fanned out behind her, tips brushing against the roof and floor, searching for whatever danger was getting her so riled up. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on reeling them back in, there was no danger. It was just her stupid mind being stupid again like it always did.

She wrapped her pole with every tendril, squeezing tight, as tight as she could, inhaling as much air into her tiny lungs as she could and letting the pressure build.

It was going to be fine.

She let the air out and focused on each tinny, whistling breath. Each one bringing her closer to calm-

The outer door lock clicked, sending her tendrils into a frenzy, scrabbling for purchase, writhing madly over every surface and scattering her drawing things. They moved her, wedging her into place above the door. Sveta whined shrilly, tears gathering in preparation for their humiliating first meeting. She looked in the mirrors opposite the door, searching for movement.

The inner door opened and Greg stepped inside. He wasn't wearing the suit. Her tendrils lunged, as she screamed softly, wrapping around his neck and stomach, wrenching his limbs off like all those people.

"Hey, Svets," he said, and she stopped screaming.

Under her tendrils, she felt the familiar texture of the suit rather than her gripping his bare flesh. She squeezed accidentally, her tendrils trying to wrench his left leg off, but he was barely moved by the sudden force.

"That's lovely," he gestured slowly, moving her tendrils with the motion instead of being strung up like a marionette. "I didn't know you could paint."

"Sorry," she said hurriedly, glancing at her sea and building mural. "It's not very good, sorry for not telling you."

Her tendrils squeezed tighter, so tight she was sure the suit would start to break, but there were no telltale pops or creaks or rattling noises.

"Sorry, did they give you a new suit?"

"Hmm? No," Greg started to waddle over to get a better look at the mural. "I'm reinforcing it. This sh*t is tite though, you should start a Pinterest. People would shell out for sh*t like this, even more, when they know who made it."

He had a really cool voice.

"Thanks," Sveta said. "I bet you could do better."

"I can't even draw," Greg laughed a deep, rich chuckle. "Oh, you should paint my first album cover! My first few songs are coming out on Twitter soon."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly-"

"No, shut up, you're commissioned. How could I get anyone else to do this with me? How does it feel to be a professional artist now?"

She wanted to tell him that she didn't want her brand associated with his sh*tty nigg* rap or whatever it was he was doing like she might if they were messaging online, but her mouth wouldn't make the right sounds.

"No, thank you," she said instead, even though she really sort of wanted to. "I really wouldn't be comfortable with that."

"Oh," Greg deflated under her grip. "That's fine too. You should think about it though because you're really good. I can get you in with Canary if you want."

Sveta's tendrils waggled frantically. "You know Bad Canary?!"

"We're doing a single together," he tried to crane his neck to look at her face, but the tendrils around his neck thankfully stopped him short. "It's been really cool, actually. I won't spoil anything, but I bet you'll love it. I'll send you some free merch, too."

More tears sprang to Sveta's eyes, staining the edges of them black.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much for coming to visit."

"Aw," Greg reached up to pat her tendrils awkwardly, straining against their attempt to tear his arm off at the shoulder. "No worries, bro. I was really looking forward to it too, I'm going stir crazy in HQ. There's only so much grindy training a guy can do before he wants to Mcf*cking kill himself."

Sveta's dangling organs wracked as she sobbed, burying her face into the back of his helmeted head, and, for the very first time that she could remember she gave a hug.

"How could they do this to you?!" she babbled, gripping as tight as she could. "All you ever wanted to do was entertain!"

Greg let out a squawk of surprise as her tendrils bound his legs together, defying physics to remain upright.

"Yeah, it's not fun, but it's not so bad," Greg tried to disentangle himself, prompting a defence response from her tendrils until he settled back into wobbling to maintain balance. "Weld and Reynard keep me company, and they let me do the group training with New York, oh hey, d'you know Jetstar?"

"Uhuh, the jet tinker girl."

"She's apparently into me and she's crazy hot."

Sveta screwed up her eyes and gathered her courage.

"We have to get you laid," she whispered.

"Oh, f*ck, I wish. I haven't even sent her a message yet."

"puss*," Sveta whispered again, sniffling. "W-we need to get you some."

She fought down the urge to apologise, to beg forgiveness for her rudeness, her presumption. Maybe he didn't want to get with her, maybe he was really insecure about his inability to talk to real girls and needed emotional support, who was she to know and cast judgement even in jest?

"And we will," said Greg. "I'm actually really interested to see if I can get a sex skill, like, a five per cent increased chance of hitting the G-Spot or something."

Oh god. Sveta cringed, turning to bury herself in her tendrils. A conversation that was funny over text was horrifyingly embarrassing in person. What could she even say to that? She couldn't experience these things. Even if Greg had only had one awkward conversation with Jetstar it was a hundred billion times more than she would ever accomplish.

She laughed weakly, her tendrils finally responding to her burning desire to get away. They shot out, gripping her pole and hauling her away to the far side interposing the set of shelves that usually held her organs between Greg and herself, finally getting a proper look at him.

Thicc, she would have said if they were messaging, with a quintessential baby-face. It somehow worked without making him look too weird. Of course, it may not have been exactly what he looked like as he was wearing one of his magic disguises over the tank-like suit.

"Nayet," said Greg.

"Huh?" the word came out as a near-silent breath.

"Your real name is Nayet."

Sveta gaped, her shrivelled heartbeat suddenly deafening in her ears drowning out all thought.

A tendril suddenly whipped out at Greg's neck, but he dodged.

"My name?" she said breathily.

He smiled, nodding.

"Wow," she mouthed.

Nayet. It sounded right, something about it resonated with her deeply like it was connected to her soul. It sounded like beach waves on rock, a soothing rolling crash. She was Nayet.

"Nayet," Sveta said, black tears running down her chalk-white face. Greg handed her some tissues, which her tendrils promptly tore to shreds but it was the thought that counted.

Later, they played a game of Scrabble.

It was the numbness I wasn't used to. I didn't like it, but maybe it was better than breaking down like dad had. I didn't think it was because I was stronger than he was, or loved her any less, I don't know… Maybe everything that had happened to me so far made it easier to deal with it. Dad had already left, unable to handle being in the room any longer, unable to handle being next to her. Even all those times I'd nearly died I didn't feel half as washed out as this, I was flush with emotion then but now?

I stared at my feet, ignoring the slight creaking of someone opening the door and the eventual feel of their hand on my shoulder.

"I healed all the physical damage, but, y'know…"

"Yeah," I muttered.

"When I can trust myself to," Amy tightened her grip, leaning against me slightly. "I will."

"Thank you," I whispered.

After a moment she let go and took a step back, moving around to the chair dad had left vacant and settled into it uncomfortably. The silence stretched between us, uncharacteristically awkward and tense.

"Thanks for coming to heal her," I broke the silence, still staring at my feet.

"I was already here, and I fixed up everyone else caught in the attack anyway, so…" Amy trailed off, shifting her robe and bunching it in her hands. "I was expecting you to be a little bitch about it. Beg me to fix her or some sh*t."

I looked up, dragging my gaze painfully across mum's sleeping form, meeting her eyes. She was a little blurry before I wiped away the tears, but I looked into her tired brown eyes and saw reflected even more of my stupidity.

"I'm genuinely sorry about everything I asked you to do for me. I realise now that I trapped you, and I shouldn't have, I was never a very good friend."

Amy held my gaze, eyes dull, and didn't say anything. After a full minute, she stomped on my foot viciously.

"You self pitying piece of sh*t. Get up," she stood, hands-on-hips. "We're going to the roof."

I nodded, glancing back over at mum before rubbing my eyes and standing, following her wordlessly out of the room. We passed uninterrupted through busy hospital corridors. I wasn't in my uniform and I wasn't in one of my oversized hoodies, but I didn't care if anyone realised who I was. Things like that just kinda didn't seem important at the moment. It was one of those moments where all previous thoughts of how well you'd handle bad things happening vanished under the crushing weight of reality. Maybe I really was being a self-pitying fa*ggot.

At the top of the flight of stairs, Amy inserted her key into the roof access door, unlocked it, and stepped out into the light. I shuffled through, blinking against the brightness as Amy stretched and pulled her robe off, tucking it over one arm. She led the way to our usual spot, a small square block that held pipes or something, and slumped down against it while fishing in a pocket.

"I don't have any of my new stuff on me 'cause taking it too many days in a row f*cks you up, but I have this," she produced a joint of nootropic turbo weed, rolling it between her fingers aggressively. "And you're not going to be a puss* and you're going to smoke it."

I choked out a single strangled chuckle, easing myself into a crouch beside her. She held out the joint and I lit it with a spark from my fingers. She took a puff first and handed it to me. Maybe I should have been nervous in that I was going to do drugs for the first time but the numbness prevailed. I raised it to my lips and drew in a long breath. It actually tasted kinda nice and didn't stink like burning socks and plastic like regular cigarettes.

I handed it back and drew my knees up, resting my head on them, blowing the smoke between my calves. I didn't know what I was going to do. The Protectorate had given me leave, but they also wanted me to keep doing interviews and promotional gigs, but I couldn't do that and help hunt down everyone in the ABB responsible for hurting my mum, could I?

I took another long drag. When was this supposed to kick in any way oh there we go-

I raised my head high and blew the plume of smoke out to the sky, straightening my legs out to rest them flat against the roof. This was pretty neat, the horrible numbness was being smothered by a peaceful zen. I smiled, still a little sadly. I could see why Amy was hooked on this stuff.

"Thanks, dude," I said.

"Anytime," she replied, eyes shut as the sun bore gently down on her face.

"You've still been a better friend than me, and I really mean that."

"I know," Amy stubbed the butt out on the concrete, grinding it slowly until the paper was too frayed and small to grip. "You really did used to be a c*nt, but you did help me too. It did mean something that you accepted me for who I was, even if you were after my powers."

"I never meant it to be like that, I was just honestly dog sh*t at making friends. A lot of it was selfish, though. It's complicated, I guess, life is hard, huh?"

Amy scoffed.

"I really, genuinely wanted to be your friend, I just didn't know how. I'm sorry I used my powers against you to make it happen, I look back at that night and cringe. I knew how much it hurt you to be in love with your sister, but I also didn't. It's hard to explain-"

"Eat sh*t and die," she whipped her arm sideways and punched me in the chest softly. "I've seen your brain enough times to get you. Hating you for it would be like hating a puppy for taking a sh*t on the rug. Ah," she sighed, hand dropping to her lap. "It still hurts that I love her and she doesn't love me back, but I'm going to move away from home soon. Out of the Bay, maybe Boston if you're still there. I'm old enough to get around those f*cking NEPEA laws, so I can get a job with my power and finally do some real f*cking good."

She levied a tired look at me. "If there's one other thing I could thank you for it's keeping me from burning out completely."

"You were pretty f*cked," I said. "I don't think you would have ever hurt anyone though."

"My thing says that too?"

I nodded slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't do more."

Amy grunted, acknowledging that I was a self absorbed c*nt.

Something dripped down my cheek. I sniffled, and the dam burst. A flood of all the tears I couldn't cry before ran down my face like rain.

"I hate them so much," I sobbed. "I f*cking hate them."

"Who?"

"The gangs. And the worst part is I know how they do this, it's like me and you. I hurt you because I didn't want to know any better, that's what these guys do too, just worse. Assert dominance on people because they can. Did you know the Nazi guys at Winslow kept trying to get me to join? I bet they knew I was the kind of pushover fa*ggot who'd cave eventually."

"I think gang psychology is a bit more complex than that, Greg."

"Whatever," I wiped my face, doing nothing to stem the tide. "The point is, I was like that."

"You were way too much of a goody-two-shoes bitch," Amy said.

"The gangs are my dark mirror."

She looked at me, nonplussed. "You're projecting because you want to feel bad about yourself. Chill out, take some breaths. Let the joint do its job."

I nodded, forcing myself to breathe deeply, letting the calming effect cover my emotions like a band-aid. The tears slowed, and then stopped, my heart rate steadying. I sniffled again, wiping my snot on my arm, then wiping my arm on my jeans.

"I got a quest to fix mum, but I don't have anything that will let me," I said after a bit more silence. "And if I do when I think I do it could take me months, or more, to get the right spell."

Amy reached up and rubbed her eyes, which had started to come over bloodshot. "You'd better get started then."

"Yeah," I sighed. "What job were you thinking of doing when you leave?"

"Don't know, I could do anything and be filthy f*cking rich. Sell my smart pills to researchers? Make a cure for diseases? Cancer? Could be anything, and if I wanted to make even easier millions I could sell cosmetic surgery. I'm not going to though, I don't have my power so rich old f*cks can die looking young."

"At least we both have promising careers," I snorted. "You can be a multi-billionaire who saved as many billion lives, and I'll be Triumvirate. It's such a shame we can't trade powers, we'd probably both be much happier if we could."

"Yeah, but we both know I'd visit one day and your sex slave cat-girl would answer the door."

"I really don't think I could resist, I'd have a harem," I said in a way that implied I was totally joking and would absolutely not immediately descend into living out the fantasies drawn by my favourite doujin artists with a cadre of ten out of ten waifus. "What would you be if you had mine?"

My cat-girl waifu would of course answer the door with, 'Welcome back, Nya-ster!', and then bat her paws coquettishly.

"Flying blaster, I guess," she shrugged, looking thoughtfully up at the sky. "And go cape with Vicky. I've always wanted to fly."

"It's harder than it looks."

Amy shrugged again. "I'd get there eventually, right?"

"Eventually. But flying blaster? Not very original, you could be anything."

"Flying master, then. Have magic animals do my fighting."

"I don't even know where I'd get that power," I brought up my menus, flicking through my perk trees. "I'd say somewhere up in INT, but maybe WIS would have an Empower Other thing in there? I'm really not sure about summoning or taming, never thought about it much before."

"Hmm, I'd still run into the problem of not wanting a pet. Maybe if I could put it away or something."

I shrugged, "I'm sure it could be done."

"Yeah," Amy shifted against the short concrete cover. "Hey, Greg, are you staying in Boston for good?"

"I doubt it," I shifted to face her properly. "I still have almost three years in the Wards, and surely in those three years, it'll be safe for me to come home. After that? I guess whichever Protectorate department can shell out the most money because I am going to take them for a mother f*cking ride when they try for a full contract. You said you're going to move soon-"

The realisation hit me that I was likely her only real friend, and more importantly, she probably didn't want us to become estranged.

"-but there's no reason we can't end up in the same city. We'll both have our pick, everyone will be bending over to give us the deal we want. Where do you want to live?"

Amy cracked one of her rare genuine smiles. "Anywhere but here. Somewhere with nice suburbs maybe, I've always liked the idea of a house with a big yard."

"I'm sure that when I'm the youngest Protectorate leader ever I can schedule a weekly patrol and come visit," I smiled back. "Oh, actually, depending on how things go I might end up in New York. One of the Wards there likes me, and she's almost as hot as Victoria."

"You haven't changed," Amy said patronisingly. "Does she like you, or was she just nice to you once?"

"I'll have you know a lesbian told me she said she thought I was cute."

"Well, that's irrefutable if a lesbian said it."

"Yes," I said. "It is. Thank you."

"Oh," said Amy, then laughed. "Touche. Well, good for you, I guess. It had to happen sometime, who is she?"

"Her hero name is Jetstar, she's a Tinker."

Amy made a face and shrugged to indicate she'd never heard of her.

"Anyway, I think I need a girls perspective on this, what do I say to her?"

She clicked her tongue and screwed up her face. "Anything. Just don't be weird. Maybe something like, 'hey, what are your thoughts on such and such,' and then reference something she's mentioned before. You have talked to her in person right? Yes? Good, just do that. It doesn't actually matter what you say so long as you aren't weird."

I stroked my chin. Armsmaster was going to make me some armour soon, so why not ask her about that as a Tinker?

"Thanks, Amy," I ruffled her hair and received a disgruntled elbow.

We chatted for a while about inconsequential topics, enjoying the sun and the buzz, until I had to go check in with the bosses about what I was to do while back in Brockton.

"Greg, are you on drugs?"

Damn his anti-crime helmet.

"Nothing illegal," I promised as Colin leant toward me.

He grunted. "I know you've suffered a terrible shock but getting high isn't a healthy way to deal with it. I've already been advised that you're unfit for work, please don't make this worse for yourself."

"Unfit?" I snapped. "Says whom?"

"Your therapist-"

I scoffed in outrage, taking a breath to speak, but Colin held up a stalling hand.

"But I can veto him to a point, so don't make this harder than it has to be by injecting marijuanas or whatever it is you were getting up to," Colin smiled. "As I'm sure you want to help me take out the Azn Bad Boys."

I smiled back. "Thanks, dude. This whole thing has made me think though, why don't people hate the ABB as much as the Empire what with the whole sex slavery thing they have going on?"

"Out of sight, out of mind," he replied, what little of his expression showing darkening. "People are happy to pretend it doesn't exist, even you yourself are only paying attention now that their actions personally affect you, while the Empire is 'out and proud' so to speak. But it's not as if I've been working on a way to remove Lung and his vile enterprise ever since he came to this city that never got go-ahead funding until this week."

Huh. I thought Tinker's just made whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, rather than have to apply for specific projects to get funded. Or maybe they could do both? That made sense, give them an annual budget to work with and also fund additional work if it became a need.

I pointedly ignored his snide little jab because it was true. "What stops Lung?"

"A tranquillizer that in theory should retard his transformation enough to make capturing him simple, and it's not like we don't have other Tinker's who deal in chemicals on staff who I can collab with, they just want a trade," he ground his teeth. "Because who cares that I can single-handedly remove that blight from the city? Internal politics, Greg, quit while you're ahead."

"Is it really that bad? If you want I can mention it on my Patrick Sweets interview tomorrow night?"

Colin sighed, waving a dismissive hand. "If you like, it won't make any difference. In any case, your armour," he gestured to the screens in front of us. "I know I said I'd make it but I have even less time than when I made that promise."

I glanced at the design on the screen, then reached over to pick up the stylus and make a few adjustments. It wasn't so much a redesign as it was a series of segmented plates fitted over my current uniform, with a kind of bolted on, futuristic ninja aesthetic. It looked vaguely like Colin's own armour, which was his attempt to reinforce that I was his protege and later take credit for refining me into an aspiring Triumvirate powerhouse; which, in a way, he sort of had. I wasn't sure what I'd be doing now if he'd paid as much attention to me as he did the other Wards. I'd never have gone to Boston, never known that there was a whole wide world outside this little sh*thole city, but I'd also never have been almost murdered by Nazi's. So, trade-offs.

"I like it," I said. "Will it take long to make?"

"Not really. I have a machine that 3D prints parts, and as this is a simple design it shouldn't take long, and then all I have to do is attach it to the new uniforms the department has sent me and you're good to go."

"Why didn't I have armour before?" I asked, twizzling a strand of my armsbeard between two fingers. "Everyone else has armour, except Aegis, and I didn't have any brute powers back then."

"You should know," Colin replied, distractedly clicking through the process to start printing my armour. "You were there for your image meetings."

"I don't think it ever came up, do you think Enrique was trying to get me killed?"

"Who? Ah, yes, and no."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I did annoy him pretty bad."

"He likely thought that armour didn't fit the look you were going for, and certainly it did not, but now it can be excused."

"That's kinda f*cked up, right?"

Colin glanced at me, frowned minutely, then shrugged. "Wards aren't supposed to see real action, you're an anomaly. Though it admittedly happens disturbingly often that a Ward will get into a fight with a villainous cape, usually by their own moronic and rash actions." He spun in his chair to face me. "It happens all the time, even back when I first joined. You see, back then even though I didn't have half the equipment I do today I had twice the bravado. This one time I was out on a basic patrol when I somehow came across The Architect, he was a Shaker who created deathtrap mazes, and I decided that I could easily arrest him. Needless to say, I spent three days in the hospital and he got away scot-free. That was the first and last time I did that, but everyone usually has one story."

He shook his head, and smiled to himself, muttering 'insane,' under his breath as he turned back to the computer.

"Who knew you were such a hooligan?"

He snorted good-naturedly. "Yes, even I was rowdy once. Now, get out, I need to get changed for my patrol," he plucked at his Armsmaster brand t-shirt, the only brand of clothes I'd seen him wear. "I'll email you when I'm done with this."

"Oh, you're back, huh?"

I looked up from the choice selection of memes I was deliberating attaching to my post to more properly btfo some retard calling Panty a slu*t. I inventoried my phone hurriedly before he could see the screen.

"Hey Dennis," I uncrossed my legs and turned to face him properly. He was carrying his Clockblocker helmet under one arm, awful red hair a mess after his patrol. "Good patrol?"

Dennis shrugged, walking past me and around the corner toward the showers.

It still hurt. It was my fault, but it still hurt. They all treated me like that, Missy had barely said a word, Carlos pretended to be polite, Chris actually chatted with me for a bit but that was probably just because I helped him make the biggest breakthrough on his work he'd ever had rather than him liking me. Dean wasn't here, probably with Victoria, and Brad apparently had taken my words to heart and showed up the absolute bare minimum to remain in the program. Good for him, I guess.

The Turbo weed was starting to wear off and I was avoiding going home. I knew it was douchey of me to not want to be with dad but I didn't think I could take the constant crying, I knew I'd start crying too and then we'd both be up all night bawling our eyes out at each other. I'd be better off here reading through all the intel on the ABB for a few hours to get a better handle on how I should surgically excise their cancer from the city.

I equipped my phone and finished my scathing post. It was that sh*tbird SupaGokuFiyah again making a mockery of my newest seasonal waifu with his incessant hot gluing, but in the end, the joke was on him and his waifus; Mana Object, Control Mana Object and Mana Slick were a potent combination.

In any case, I wasn't sure how much participation Colin could finagle for me so I should be ready for everything from mission control to recon to strike team. I hoped to f*cking god it was strike team so I could break all of Bakuda's fingers until she couldn't use them anymore, put my arm full through Lung's guts and then cut Oni Lee's eyes out. I took a breath and put my phone away before I crushed it in my tightening fist. I needed to go work some of this energy off. I stood, about to go down to the gym but Dennis emerged from the hallway, hair still wet and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Our eyes met and there was an awkward pause.

"You alright, dude?" he asked.

I smoothed my posture and expression into something a little less feral, then shrugged. "All this gang sh*t has me stressed."

"Ain't it sh*t?" Dennis asked rhetorically, continuing to the exit. "Was that why you're back?"

"Yeah, I asked to come back just in case things started getting real bad," I noticed that Dennis was just being polite and didn't actually care. "Seeya later, Dennis."

"See you," he nodded and exited the Wards common room.

I sighed, reaching up to rub at suddenly watering eyes. This was my mess to dig myself out of.

Hey, what's up? Armsmaster's making me some tinkertech armour, d'you want me to send you pics for critique when it's done?

I hit send and immediately inventoried my phone to quell the storm of butterflies in my guts. I couldn't be sure if Yamada's idea that I only chose girls who were unavailable because I was a huge puss* was true or not, but if it was I could take steps to make it not so and I'd dawdled on messaging Savannah for too long anyway. It was strange, six months ago I'd have messaged her straight away and never gotten a response back, but it wouldn't have bothered me half as much as the idea of sending a message now did.

The city loomed before me in the dark, a light spring breeze ruffling my hair under my cap. I was forbidden from patrols by myself but there wasn't any rule on me taking a walk at night disguised as a fat Asian guy in the part of the city that just so happened to be occupied by the ABB, and if I just so happened to see anything pertaining to the gang with my powers there was no reason I couldn't submit it as an 'anonymous tip' to Colin.

With the cigarette Amy had given me months ago sitting half-smoked and unlit in my mouth I trundled up the street, taking care to walk like a real human person.

It was midnight but the streets were still alive with people going in and out of clubs and bars and little hole in the wall restaurants selling cheap fried food to stumbling drunks. It wasn't the image I'd imagined of ABB territory in the beginnings of what I was sure was going to be a gang war, no one was scared of getting shaken down by thugs or for enemy factions to burst onto the scene and start smashing heads. Though, admittedly, what I'd read of the ABB said they operated on some kind of pseudo-Yakuza style management where they kept things running and kept all the crime as hidden as possible, which like Colin said, if the underage sex slaves were out of sight they were also out of mind.

It made sense, I supposed as I walked with an exaggerated swagger, taking care to jostle other pedestrians just the right amount. If I was a normal person without phenomenal cosmic power I'd be keeping my head down and acting normal too. sh*t, it's what I used to do, well, some of the time anyway when I couldn't contain my autism and had to sperg out to anyone who would even pretend to listen.

I joined a line for a club known to be an ABB front, Observing everyone I could get my eyes on. Nothing stood out, which was f*cking tragic considering the piles of sad sh*t I was reading off of everyone, even the doorman was just a regular guy hired for his sumo-like bulk.

It took well over an hour to get inside and I immediately went straight to the bar.

"Oi, give me a Jack and co*ke," I crooned to one of the hot chicks serving drinks. She didn't hear me over the crashing thump of music and swell of people half shouting to make themselves heard.

"Oi," I tried again, louder this time but to no effect.

What the f*ck?

"OI!" I shouted, thunderously, projecting my voice to the human limit. A few people glanced my way with irritated looks, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Seriously, what the f*ck? Surely this music was an OHSA violation if it deafened everyone like this, everyone was going to get tinnitus. I waited grumpily for another ten minutes before my order got taken, I dumped my money on the counter and snatched my drink away. I skirted the edges of the room, my eyes flickering about as I observed anyone who looked like they might have ties to organised crime. I found a table and sat down heavily, taking a sip of my drink.

It tasted like I imagined a co*ckroach smelled.

I sipped it again, suppressing a grimace, and set it down carefully on my table. Next time, I was getting the fruitiest f*cking co*cktail I could and damn the method acting.

I picked the glass up, sniffed it, swirled the contents, then put it back down and set about Observing and memorising as much pertinent information as I could find.

Last night had been a bust but tonight was an epic win.

"Again, absolutely fantastic!" Jan handed me a bottle of chilled artesian water, which I cracked open and took a sip most refreshing after baking under the studio lights.

"Thanks," I smiled, sipping more water and settling into the plush seats of the armoured PRT van. She was like a convert, and all it took was an apology and a display of normality.

Jan smiled again, looking at me like a proud mother convinced it was her nagging that had propelled her son to greatness before settling back into her own seat to fill out some paperwork for Piggot and the youth guard.

The interview itself had been surprisingly easy, even though it was entirely scripted I hadn't felt the need to go off on a tangent and instead could focus on making the most of what I was given to work with. I think, perhaps, that mum had been wrong when she had told me to be myself, myself. I could be myself without having to be completely, purely, myself at all times. Certainly, there were times when being like the old Greg was appropriate, and there were times when it was not, but that didn't mean I had to cling onto either my, or others, image of myself. I had more layers than that, I could be many kinds of Greg and all were myself.

It was a very deep realisation, I was sure.

The drive back to the PRT building was smooth and uneventful, without even a hint of Coil's machinations to murder me. I doubted he could bait the Empire into it again, so the next one was likely to be from some unaffiliated mercenary group. Personally, I expected it to be La Strada, an imaginatively named roving merc band, or maybe some more Fallen; this time with cape backup. There was a lot he could do, but I didn't think it was worth worrying about him hiring guys like the Slaughterhouse. Almost no one was that stupid, and I didn't think Coil was stupid. The only reason I thought it was him was due to that chance meeting with Tattletale. If I'd never seen her, or thought to Observe her, Coil wouldn't even be on my radar.

We arrived and got out of the car, Jan bidding me a good night before heading off to her office while I continued on to the Wards room with trepidation heavy in my gut. My gloved hand tightened on the handle of the big vault door, high tech leathery material creaking softly with the force of my grip. I inhaled slowly, opened the door and slunk inside.

My lip curled as I scanned the empty room, the television still on the same channel I'd left it on before my interview. I crossed to the lounges and threw myself down, wriggling against the discomfort of the new armour of my uniform for a few seconds before I switched it for my usual oversized sweats.

I stared at the floor.

My personal phone appeared in my left hand and I wriggled around on the sofa into a more comfortable position, clicking the phone on. A missed call from Sveta, a video one from Tyrone, a text from Amy and finally a message from Savannah. A well of something swelled up in my chest, forcing it's way up my throat and out my tear-ducts. I squished it back down with a few deep breaths and wiped my face on the worn sofas' fabric.

I opened Amy's text first which read, 'Vicky and Dean were impressed you didn't act like a complete f*cking cretin.'

Okay, so Dean was exonerated and possibly based and I'd repaired Victoria's seepingly mediocre first impression of me. God Bless Amy. That freckle-faced bitch, even if she didn't say it, I knew. She was the most impressed of all, having seen me at my most miserable worst.

I made a mental note to use my considerable future clout to aid in her likely plans of normalising lesbian step-sister relationships if she was still into that in a few years time. But who knew, maybe once she moved out she'd get over it and find herself a nice girl.

'Thanks homeslicey,'I shot back.'Tell them I say, "hello".'

I was too nervous to look at Savannah's message, so instead, I face-timed Tyrone. The app rang a few times before he picked up, the half dozen voices fighting for dominance on the other end of the line coming in heart-wrenchingly clear. Past the edges of Tyrone's unattractively close face, I could see the whole team vying for space.

"Yooooo!"

"Hey guys," I grinned, waving for the camera. "How did I go? I think I killed it."

Tyrone shouted "yo!" again, drowning out the others but I got the gist of it.

"Aw, thank you," I used the motion of sitting up properly to turn the camera away from my face so I could wipe my eyes. "You guys are the best."

I wrapped up my call with the Boston crew and hugged my phone to my chest, leaning over to rest my elbows on my knees. I was going to transfer there permanently, I decided, once all this gang sh*t was over with. Mum… and dad would support me wholeheartedly even if it meant having to drive there every weekend and not getting to see me during the week. That was hard on me too, even though I had good friends there and could call home whenever I wanted, but I realised somewhere along the way that it was worth it to just be out of Brockton and everything in it.

I wiped at my eyes again, sniffling slightly, and called Sveta.

I realised immediately that she was probably either not at the asylum phones or would panic that I was calling and lose control of her tendrils. I let the phone ring out. Best to wait for her to call again.

My breath shook with my hands, but it was time to stop being a puss* bitch.

I opened Savannah's message without even looking at the text preview.

Savannah: Cool interview
Savannah: Armsmaster's published his alloy on the intranet but I still can't fathom how he gets the plates so thin without compromising on both elasticity and strength. Even when I attempt to copy his method my results are clearly subpar if you've reviewed his field reports…

The message continued on like this for a bit. I wasn't very surprised, both Fred and Daisy were big Armsmaster fans and their specialties barely even crossed. Savannah's speciality including power armour made it only natural for her to fangirl over the second most famous living Tinker in the world if you didn't know that he was secretly a massive chode who used naive Wards to further his career and traumatise them with Nazi's in the process.

I harrumphed. It was a feeling so complicated; on one hand, he was a chode, and on the other, he was the only person I could remember having even remotely high expectations for me and then believing that I could reach them.

Greg: Thanks 😀
Greg: His power lets him condense technology, which extends to increasing the density of metal alloy without sacrificing anything and that's why his suit isn't twice as big. There's probably nothing you can do to replicate the effect without developing a power stealing ray

It was a good thing that even if she had a huge crush on him, and even if I introduced them, Colin was way too autistic to even realise the fact.

I snorted, inhaling shakily and put my phone away. It was much ado about nothing, at any rate, and the same as my former crush on Miss Militia; it wasn't allowed to happen. I sat up and sighed, stretching extravagantly, then got up and headed back to the exit. I lingered at the door for a moment, scanning the room one last time, a seething breath hissing out through my teeth at the sight of the television still muted on the wrong channel. I spat on the floor and slammed the door shut.

"Thanks, Mac," I said, extending a fist.

"No worries, kid, you have a good one," Mac bumped the proffered fist and I hopped out of the PRT van and onto the curb, shutting the car door behind me.

As the van politely indicated and pulled onto the quiet suburban road I walked up my driveway, and after quickly wiping my shoes on the mat because I was a good boy, opened the front door and stepped inside. The house was dark, dark and quiet, save for light spilling out from the edges of the kitchen door.

I turned invisible.

It f*cking couldn't be, right? How could he have arranged something like this so quickly? Did he even expect to succeed?

Colourless smoke seeped from my skin, drifting as soundlessly as my steps over the wooden floor, it collected at the door and I guided it under and around. I covered the kitchen floor with it, mapping out the position of chair and table legs. The smoke drifted higher, the gaps in it letting me feel where everything was. There was one person sitting at the table, and as the smoke drifted higher I felt their expectant posture and nobody else was in the room it was just dad.

I dropped my invisibility, dismissed the smoke, and flung the kitchen door open.

'Fwee!~' went his party pipe, reaching out like a tongue almost to the hefty cake sitting in front of him on the table.

"Congratulations, my little pop-star Greg!" Dad removed the party pipe from his quivering lips. "V-veronica would be so proud!"

"Dad, I…" my voice caught as I gasped, almost a sob, nose and eyes both welling. My eyes flickered to mum's empty chair and back to dad's face which was steadily crumpling like an anguished ball of tin foil.

The tears that started to run off his nose mirrored mine and I quested forward into my chair, sinking into it and then sinking my face into my hands, hiding sobs.

The cake knife clinked against the plate, the motions sounding clumsy, before clattering to the table.

Dads howled his anguish to the sky while I sobbed silently into my hands.

I was on patrol again. Colin had somehow swung me a miracle, overriding all protests about my physical safety and mental wellbeing to get me back on the beat. I guess I'd been seriously underestimating the thick heft of his clout.

I was determined to not disappoint. My armour has been polished, my hair cut by the PR department, both my Armsbeard and Twinkling Smile were on and I had a stack of pre-signed press shots from my interview last night. Beside me, Vista strode with all the confidence being the highest rated Shaker on the east coast afforded.

It wasn't that I didn't want to talk with her, I did, I had a lot of things I could say, but I could tell she didn't want to talk to me very much; in the past, I had bothered her far more that she wanted to take, so we walked in a silence broken only by our adoring fans. Hers more so than mine despite that I was on national television last night and also that I was leeching off of Canary's fame. But, whatever, she'd been around years longer than me so I could understand that the public's sh*t taste was simply because of the propaganda model.

Someone walking toward us, a guy of about twenty, caught my eye with his unblinking, shocked stare. The man practically vibrated with excitement with every step, reaching into his heavily sagging jacket pocket, his arm making the triangle which activated my crime prevention autism, causing me to reflexively Observe him just in case he was a shooter. He pulled out a photo of Canary and I and thrust it out in front of him as he neared.

"Hey, hey, you're Dark Smoke Puncher! My buddy said he'd seen you, but I thought you were in Boston! Can you sign this?"

<Dark Smoke Pun-Cha!>

Missy recoiled slightly out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored her as I stepped up to shake the guy, Adam's, hand.

"Of course, my friend!" I placed my other hand on his shoulder as I shook his hand, the last jingles of my entrance riff fading. "You a big Bad Canary guy?"

"Oh yeah! I heard her first-ever song, on the very day it came out! Imagine that?" he said as I took the photo from him and equipped my signing pen. "I love your song with her too, of course, I recognise the opening riff of it you used just now with your little," the guy flapped his hands to indicate a totally sick power caused sound. "Thing."

"Amazing! I've been a long-time fan myself, not quite as long as you, unfortunately, but she does great work, doesn't she? I was stoked when she agreed to produce a song with me, she's such a nice person to work with."

I jotted down my signature with machine precision, leaving enough room on the other side for him to get Paige's signature at some point.

"And you," I smiled at him cheekily, "have impeccable taste in music."

He took back the photo with a little less reverence than I'd like. "You're just saying that because I likeyourmusic," he returned my smile.

"You got me!" I clapped him on the shoulder. "Have a great day, man."

"Yeah, you too," he smiled one last time, then strode away digging in his pocket for his phone so that he could tweet about this.

I gave him one last glance, squinting slightly against the setting sun, a bubbly pink feeling rising in my chest. Being proud of myself over something worthwhile actually felt really, really nice.

Our, and then my, song had been fairly popular, but what had gotten the PRT frothing to no end was that I wasn't even supernaturally good at music yet, but in a quite short amount of time I could be. Oh, I could be. I could be good at anything. My Youtube channel was going to be so popular, I'd be a household name even before my ascension to the Triumvirate. I could do live streams of myself doing whatever I wanted. Painting, singing, even playing video games or watching anime. I could introduce the world to good taste, for the first time in its existence I could make things as they should be.

A world where little Greg boys and little Greg girls could be included in normie circles.

That was a dream worth having.

We walked on along our route, still bubbling with the praise of our fans. Ah, no,Iwas doing that while Vista was probably taking no joy in my massive achievements because she was a little stick in the mud who couldn't get over the fact that I used to be annoying a few months ago. I'd gotten my enhanced memory perk before I'd even met her, so I remembered how it was better than any.

I gently bit at the tip of my tongue as we walked. I'd resolved to not apologise for or mention my past behaviour partially as revenge for their petty snubbing and partially as an attempt to take the high road and let my attitude speak for itself, in theory letting us both fall into a better relationship without anyone having to lose face. I wondered how long it would take.

The late afternoon wound down into evening and we reached the last loop of our patrol, the peak of it looping around into the fringes of ABB territory. I heard them before we saw them, the clicking rattle and hiss of spray cans echoing around the corner. Four skinny teenage boys loomed out of the twilight, bits of red and green clothing peeking out of unzipped jackets. The rest of the street was deserted but for an occasional car, leaving the boys free to deface shop windows with Christmas coloured dicks.

Beside me, Vista sighed the quiet uncomfortable sigh of someone face with a heap of unexpected and tedious work. I decided I should take point with this f*cking ABB scum.

"Hey, guys," I took a step forward. "I'm sure we're all having a lot of fun but I would appreciate it if you could put the spray cans away."

"Bet you would, gay boy," the tallest one quipped, prompting a series of jeering snigg*rs from his friends which would have aggravated my Betamax genes if I still had any.

"I really, really would," I smiled, making sure to keep my posture in the safe PR zone so that when I heemed these fa*ggots for attacking me Vista would back me up. "Defacing property ain't cool."

"The guy who owns this," the taller one gestured to the shop with his can, punctuating the gesture with an infuriating spurt of paint. "Said we could paint his place up, so how about you f*ck off?"

I suppressed a seething hiss. God damn scum-sucking little sh*ts, did they even think I'd buy that utter load of sh*t? Sparks roiled under my skin, a million little pinpricks of energy I barely held in; I hoped to f*cking god one of them touched me.

"No, come on, graffiti is a misdemeanour crime and we are law enforcement," I took another step forward, my posture invitingly naive, jaw perfectly placed for a surprise attack. If only I wasn't wearing this f*cking armour they might want to have more of a go. "So instead of getting the cops involved you either put the cans away or give them to me."

"You think the cops will do sh*t, huh, gweilo?" one of the shorter ABB gangb*ngers scoffed while flipping me off. "We own this part of town."

"Personally," I said with calculated condescension. "I'd go with community service when you get charged. I'll suggest it to the officers when they get here, and I'll see if we can't get the charge expunged when you finish on account of age. I think you boys would find it rewarding."

Come on, f*cking hit me.

The sparks roiled closer to the outside, but I drew them back. At this level of ambient light, they might be faintly visible through my skin and I wouldn't want to spook them before they electrocuted themselves. It would be in self-defence!

"Call the cops," said the tall one, thrusting his chin out. "I don't give a f*ck."

"Of course."

My phone appeared in my hand, but the light and noise were all my power. I made sure they could hear a voice on the other side of the line faintly ask my what my emergency was, and I could see the moment where they f*cking god damn puss*ed out. sh*t. They spat and clicked their tongues and made rude gestures, but turned around and ambled away. I suddenly had the most amazing, marvellous idea.

"Hey!" I hopped forward, thrusting out my hand as they turned back around. "Thanks for being cool about this-"

The leader slapped my hand away, "eat my dick."

I smiled as they walked away, the twinging sensation of my tracking tag moving off with them. It will be you who will eat my dick, fa*ggot, for you see I'll be seeing you again very soon and not only will you lead me to a gang hideout, you-

"How did you do that?"

"Eh?" I looked back over my shoulder at Missy.

"I could have done that," she continued. "But how didyoudo that?"

The question, while harsh, was fair. But, f*ck you Missy you literal child I could have always done that had I chosen to.

"We did this awesome training week in Boston with the New York wards, we got to do all kinds of cool sh*t. Learn to drive, obstacle course stuff and, we did a half-day on alternative policing methods," I walked back over to her and we fell into step back towards the PRT building. "I'll bring it up with Emily, though I'm pretty sure Brockton is way too underfunded to ship in and house a few teenagers for a week for some reason."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vista's mouth contort into the dim gape of the low IQ as she tried to process the concept of learning and the existence of Wards in other cities.

"I think that would be a really good idea," she finally said. "I've always known there's more to the job than this. I don't… remember what kind of training I got, I think they just gave us a handbook and showed us how to use the console."

Oh, Missy. If only you knew how bad things really are.

The cool night breeze stole my sigh. Apparently, those four ABB gangb*nging sh*ts had nothing better to do than wander around the town for hours, acting tough, eating hot chips and occasionally tagging walls. Makes me f*cking sick. I hopped off the roof I was on, crossing the gap to the next and sticking to the wall like a gecko as they swaggered like idiots through the alley beneath me. The didn't even have the good grace to lead me to a hidden gang safe-house, weapons cache or illegal brothel!

Even their conversation was just stupid sh*t about which girl they wanted to f*ck, or how totally drunk they got that one time, or inane banter about everyday minutia. Give me some information, you f*cks! Or, at least a reason to hit you.

That was really interesting. It was almost like a SEP field, so even if someone could see through my invisibility they might just not notice me. God damn, I loved being a ninja.

For realsies though, what was with this stakeout sh*t? First I went to a known ABB joint and got absolutely f*cking nothing, and now following these guys around I was getting equally f*cking nothing. I thought I was supposed to chance upon some key happening or scrap of information, not listen to four hours of absolutely nothing of value.

There was a burst of laughter from beneath, they were talking about vidya. sh*t opinions of course, on strictly normiecore games.

A small click caught my attention, echoing softly from somewhere behind us. I craned my neck around, it was some guy whose boot had clipped a broken chunk of concrete. He was walking toward the ABB gangers, the half-moon reflecting off his bald head and, man, he was really walking quickly. He had the weirdest look on his face, like he-

The man reached into his coat and withdrew an Uzi.

The wind whistled in my ears as I dropped from the wall, landing quietly in between the man and the group as bright blue mana poured from my skin. The man jerked, pulling the trigger early, the first spray of bullets sending up a shower of gravel until they hit the whirlwind of my shield.

I flinched at the sound, throwing my arms over my head, getting as much of my armour in the way as possible. Hans' pistol rang out, again and again, dark shapes flashing across the brilliant blue cutting through my eyelids. I whimpered as something got through my shield and pinged off my side, the sound hidden by the endless barks of the gun and the mystic whooshing of my shield. I wasn't back there. This guy wasn't Hans. I grit my teeth until it hurt, forcing myself into the present moment and away from that street.

The barking of the Uzi ceased. I turned invisible. Within a second I was in touching distance of the hitman, my fingers grazing the warm barrel of the gun, vanishing it out of his hands and into my inventory, then gripping him around the neck and choke-slamming him into the ground. I picked him back up, jumping to the wall I'd been hiding on and slamming him into it. I held him there, grip shaking until the red bled out of my vision and I definitely wasn't back on that street and I had the situation under control.

I dropped the man and shied away from him, he hit the ground and collapsed into a dazed lump. Not dead. I observed him; close, but not dead and he'd live.

For some reason, the four boys were still there, gaping like stunned fish.

I was a fool.

"Get out of here, you dumb f*cks!" I growled at them, throat raw and dry. "f*cking leave!"

The boys left, a scrambling tangle of awkward limbs that had obviously never seen anything higher up the gang chain than their weed dealer.

I looked back down at the half-dead Empire man and shivered, though it wasn't cold.

Gunshots echoed in the distance.

It was like, 'hey, shadow stalker, when did you get back and also become me?'

I'd left the guy half-dead in the alley, too scared of what I'd done, just trying to get away and put the horrible scene out of my mind. The whole night was one of my Big Mistakes. First I'd been hoping for an excuse to commit what was probably some kind of racially charged hate crime, and then I'd enacted the fear I'd had when sparring the New York Wards and lost control and badly hurt someone.

"The reports are in," Armsmaster was saying as he pointed at the projection on the whiteboard showing a map of the city, with a series of red circles clustered around the Docks area. "Thirteen fatal shootings of Asian or Asian-Americans by Empire affiliates. We've known this gang war has been coming for a while, so it's time to unload our best efforts. Our preliminary Thinker ratings haven't been good on any of our plans, but," Armsmaster paused to take a deep sip of his coffee. "We haven't hit any Black ratings yet, so we're on the right track."

It was meant to be fourteen. I'd prevented it, four lives saved, but I hadn't told anyone. Their lives were bought at the cost of my integrity, which had to have been worth it. It had to. By all outside views what I had done was wholly heroic, and only I knew the sordid truth of the matter.

"It's going to be rough for a while, rougher than we've had it for a while and I know that's saying a lot," Colin smiled grimly, setting his coffee down. "So as well as extra patrols, we're all going to have to take on some extra duties. These could be new, or extensions of our current ones, and we have perhaps only today to truly prepare without the stress of so much extra work. So, ideas. Throw them out, I don't give a f*ck if they're bad, we'll sort them out later when we fully hammer out our game plan."

Heroes needed the intent to back up their actions, it wasn't enough to merely save lives you had to save them for the right reasons. My body had moved on its own, yes, and my first instinct was to save them, but the run-up was wrong. You couldn't call yourself a hero if you'd just wanted to bash some Asians.

The amassed capes around the conference table shifted into thinking poses, deliberating what needed to be done to save our sh*tty city.

"We get in contact with all our registered affiliates, and work to get the unregistered on board," Velocity said. "Really leverage them as an information web."

The words transcribed themselves on the whiteboard projection as he spoke.

"We assassinate Lung and Kaiser," said Assault, to which Other Greg, who was in control of our body, reflexively chuckled along with everyone else.

Use drones with facial recognition software. Recruit more capes. Turn Empire capes to our side. Post videos to youtube to raise public awareness. More motorcycle patrols. Interface with the BBPD, fire department and other services. Section off parts of the city. Stay home and nap.

The list of things went on and on, Other Greg occasionally adding our superior suggestions, and then we all had to work on narrowing down the list into a cluster of tasks for each person.

I was to be mainly on social media duty to let the public know what was going on and to drum up support through my music. The benefits of needing a maximum of four hours of sleep were that I could be on Twitter all the time posting G-Rated messages of hope and unity.

Other Greg smiled our way through the rest of the meeting and we left to go mope in our room.

"Hey, Greg."

Dean's voice was furtive, low, and painfully full of concern. I guess I'd been waiting for this, but I also kind of hoped he'd be too much of a puss* to bring it up. The worst part is I couldn't fake my way out of this one, he'd know. And I knew he'd know that I knew, so now I couldn't go and mope by myself.

"Hey, man, what's up? I was just about to go hit the gym, you up for a sesh?"

"Sure," he said, looking unduly worried. "I've been meaning to go more."

I smiled politely, resisting the urge to bitingly call him an inferior lanklet. Dean was always nice to me and he alone didn't deserve my spite.

He seemed anxious to speak in private because he wasn't making any of his normal small talk as we walked.

"This gang war sh*t is f*cked, hey?" I asked as we made our way to the Protectorate exclusive Rig gym. "I always thought that the Empire was worse, had you ever thought about the ABB's sex slavery ring?"

"Not really," he cracked a nervous smile like he wasn't sure if I was joking.

"Neither did I."

I stopped myself from going into a monologue about the power of propaganda, and how it was more beneficial to the political elite to run articles about the Empire over the Asian run child sex market on American soil most likely because they used their services and to draw attention to it would be to draw attention to themselves so they used an easy scapegoat; everyone hates Nazi's. I wasn't sure how Cauldron factored into this, as they must factor into everything being so entrenched into the fabric of society, but it couldn't have been anything good.

Not that I thought Dean was into that, but his father knew Cauldron and was probably a pedophile. Or at least knew a few.

The rest of the walk was in silence. Dean was tightly wound, each step almost jumpy. I would have been like that too if I hadn't known this was coming. We reached the gym. The automatic doors opened with a soft pneumatic hiss and I led the way to the bench press station.

I turned to face him, this man who got to plough Victoria.

"Things have been rough."

"Tell me about it," he said imploringly.

"Almost being assassinated was really scary," I sat on the bench, gut-clenching. "And I'm still scared that the guy is going to come back and kill me even though I burned his eyes out and he's in prison. I have nightmares and I can't look at mirrors anymore."

"It's gonna be ok, Greg," he sat down next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Thank you for telling me, and you don't have to keep it all to yourself. We're here for you if you need us."

I rubbed my face with my palm to force the tears back in.

"You know that's not true. It's my fault for being such a sperg when I first joined, but, the rest of them don't want anything to do with me."

"That's not true."

"Yeah, it is. And I don't even care. Nobody even asked why I was back."

Dean hesitated. "And why are you back?"

"My mum got hit with some kind of ABB pain bomb that fried her nervous system."

"Dude, I'm so sorry," Dean squeezed my shoulder in a hug.

"I know, 'cause you're a nice dude and you've always been nice to me, but I pissed everyone off too much. I'm sure they'd be sorry, too, but I think it was too frustrating because I was too stupid to understand why I sucked, so I understand why they don't like me."

Even if they're petty sh*tc*nts who should bother because I'd bother. Even without my powers reading everyone's moods and life story, I'd bother. Probably. I think…

"They, I'm sure they don't hate you. And you've been gone a few months, so I'm sure they've cooled down on their opinion of you."

I shook my head, "they haven't. I can tell, and I know you can too. But it's whatever, it's what I f*cking get."

"Why don't you apologise and ask to start fresh?"

"Because I haven't done anything wrong, being annoying isn't a crime," my right knee bounced agitatedly. "What am I supposed to apologise for?"

A pregnant pause seeped into the conversation.

"So I apologise for being rude, then?"

f*ck them. They should apologise to me for being insensitive dickhe*ds. Even as I was an insensitive dickhe*d to them. God f*cking damn it.

"I think you should," said Dean.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, visibly spraying snot particles all over our knees. Dean didn't react to this but he did withdraw his hand from my shoulder after a few seconds.

"I know. I will. I was hoping you would all notice I wasn't like that and things would just," I licked my lips and made a wibbly gesture. "Smooth out and we'd be cool."

"Bit naive," Dean said with a small smile.

I grunted.

"They know you're a good guy, it'll work out," he smiled wanly. "Promise."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Dean, you're a real bro."

"Anytime, bro."

I took a very deep breath and sighed. "Well, I do want to get a workout done if you're still keen. I'm trying to hit eight-fifty on my bench."

"Eight hundred fifty pounds?"

I shook my head, "kilograms."

Dean looked afraid.

I was really liking this whole vigilante sh*t. Sure, I was breaching my Wards contract by acting as a cape outside PRT jurisdiction, but it was so freeing. Weeks and weeks of being cooped up inside with nothing but my thoughts were a maddening struggle and, even though there were Nazi's in this city, I wasn't going near them.

I drained the last sip of my strawberry and pomegranate sorbet co*cktail and stood up, leaving the glass on the table. I was in the same ABB club as last time, but this time I'd found a mark.

My disguise for the night, of an ugly, hugely jacked guy with tacky tribal tats up his arms and neck, let me pass unmolested despite my choice of drink; people moving out of my way without me even having to ask. I swaggered out into the night after my targets, a trio of scrawny men in suits whose Observe bio's had some interesting things to say, as had their mouths as I read their lips from across the room.

Drinks, illegal gambling and a visit to an illegal brothel were on their menu tonight after a long day of laundering gang money. It honestly would have been a totally boss schedule if it weren't illegal and morally reprehensible. Like, drinks, legal gambling and legal brothel? Hell yeah, I'd do that sh*t. Ah, maybe not the brothel considering things were going ok with Savannah even if we were only messaging. It wasn't right to f*ck around on people like that, but if I didn't have a chick on the go, brothel all day erry day.

As I followed the men I began to fade from existence, unnoticed by the thinning crowd as we walked further away from the strip of clubs and deeper into the grimier part of Brockton's Chinatown. Things were noticeably quieter since the shootings even here in the heart of ABB territory, people who were previously confident to galavant in the streets were staying indoors. I didn't know what happened to those four boys I'd saved, but I hoped they'd left the city.

They reached some dingy looking restaurant and I slipped in the door after them on silent feet, tiptoeing down into the concrete basem*nt where a big mahjong table was set up and some rake thin old men were playing under a single wan light bulb sticking out of the nicotine-stained ceiling. As soon as the men I was tailing entered the room rapid conversation erupted in Mandarin, of which I couldn't understand a word. I really needed to fix that and buy a skill book, but Armsmaster's translation program would be able to handle this easily.

I slunk into an empty corner, trying not to gag at the thick smell of cigarette smoke which as it turned out I enjoyed no more than when Amy and I used to smoke.

Not to self; go visit Amy.

I equipped my phone, opening my camera app and doing my best to get the entire room into the frame, then settled down for what would no doubt be a really f*cking boring night. What was I going to do when they went to the illegal brothel, though? I couldn't well follow them into the rooms. That would do for the night, get the incriminating footage for Colin to decode, snoop around a bit for cooked accounts books or something, then go home for my nightmare ridden four-hours-sleep.

It was amazing how many things could scare a boy in the six months he'd been working for the government. I wouldn't be surprised if this was all Cauldron's fault, they'd found out I had read Triumph and Battery's associations with them and this was their subtle way of driving me into an insane asylum. Maybe I should have just gone with my original plan of being a busking cape, I'd probably be much happier and I wouldn't be having to sit in grubby gambling dens as a way of escaping the suffocating confines of my house arrest tier protections.

I sighed internally, sliding down the wall until I was sitting, then balanced my phone on my knee.

Maybe I should just ask if there's anything I can do that wasn't a breach of contract that would also satisfy my need for freedom. It's not like Piggot would just tell me to f*ck off and put up with it. She was a tough bitch, but she wasn't out to get any of us.
I equipped my work phone and brought up my and Savannah's conversation, a silly smile coming to my lips as I brought up the selfie she took of her in a tight tank top, gesturing to a half-assembled engine on the workbench beside her, a smudge of something on her nose.

I think I loved her. How could I ever have thought she was an annoying, bossy bitch? She was my soulmate.

Greg: heyI'm sitting here pretty bored on a stakeout, watchu up to?

She was going to save me, drag me out of this hell my life had become. We'd get married and have six kids, who'd then get f*cking killed by Endbringers god f*cking dammit! End of the god damn f*cking world, f*cking Endbringers, f*cking Cauldron, f*cking f*ck! I guess I'd just have to settle for maybe achieving some level of happiness before society collapsed and we Mad Maxed in a self-destructive spiral.

I shivered. Weirdly cold all of a sudden… how often did I even feel the cold anymore? I hadn't felt the chill since my vitality had hit forty. Something was wrong.

I slowly rose to my feet, equipping my uniform, observing the changes in the men I'd followed and their friends. They were feeling it too, something was putting a [Fear] debuff on them; oh f*ck. f*ck f*ck f*ck. I recognised this feeling.

Hans stalked into the room, face blank as he drew a pistol from his belt.

He wasn't real.

"Time to finish vat ve started."

I closed my eyes, but I could still see him. He wasn't real. He was still in prison, I checked every other day. Taylor was making me hallucinate.

I fell back against the wall, turning away and burying my face in my arms.

We're f*cked now, bro!

He's not real.

Get us the f*ck out of here!

He's not real.

If he was real he'd have shot me.

"Did you know ve have already had ze Armsmaster? Your family will pay next."

Not listening. The sickening, gut-clenching cold retreated.

"Armsmaster?" said a rasping female voice.

I opened one eye a crack, turning to face the room. Where Hans used to be stood Taylor, inhumanly lankier and spindlier, a scarecrow mask half-covered by that long, curly dark hair of hers.

"Why does an ABB sh*theel care about Armsmaster?"

My Observe turned out nothing, she was another hallucination. I screwed my eyes shut and took a ragged breath, trying to speak but no words were coming out.

"One last time," the gut-clenching terror intensifying as hallucination asked, still seen against the inside of my eyelids. "Why does an ABB sh*theel care about Armsmaster dying like that?"

I dropped my invisibility, exposing myself.

"I'm a Ward. I'm Dark Smoke Puncher."

The fear vanished, leaving behind another thing for my perfect memory to torment me with during guilty nightmares.

f*ck us.

A tinnitus-like whine rang in my ears, my Wards uniform soaked to my body by bitter sweat. I realised I could taste bile, having thrown up in my mouth a little bit.

I peeked out through my eyelashes at the sound of boots walking closer. The real Taylor stood there, this time wearing a thick, ragged trench coat. She crouched, arms resting on knees, observing me keenly. I Observed her back.

Jesus Christ, Taylor, what the f*ck have I done to you?

"You look familiar," she mused, voice hard, raspy in a way it hadn't been last time we spoke. "Have I threatened you before?"

I dry swallowed at the bitterness, "no."

"Hmm, well, my mistake then," she stood up. "Anyone who hates the Empire as much as you is alright in my books. I assume you're here for the sex slaves?"

Oh. That washere?

"Yep."

"Good, call it in. I have places to be, and these guys will confess" Taylor turned and stalked off, stepping over one of the men as he sobbed and pleaded with his cruel hallucination. She paused at the doorway, turning back to look over her shoulder. "I like 'Smoke and Mirrors'."

I got the sense she was smiling at me.

She left, leaving me alone with the broken gangsters, any vague ideas I may have had about turning up at her house as Greg and apologising evaporating with her leaving. I turned invisible again, drawing my knees in and wrapping my arms around them with my face pressed against my leg armour. How could I have done that to her?

"Never do that again."

Armsmaster didn't look up from his reports and I hadn't even sat down yet.

"Never do what?"

"Thank you for the footage and the call in, but you are to never do that again."

I gingerly sat in the spare office chair. I was sure I'd gotten rid of all the things that could trace the footage back to me, but he was Armsmaster.

"I'm already putting myself on the line for you, do not ruin both our careers."

"Sorry. I did come to that realisation while I was there if it makes you feel any better. I just need something to keep myself busy, and not just the same sh*t I've been doing," I interlocked my fingers and stared at my hands. "I need something fresh, you feel?"

"Yes, I feel," Armsmaster sighed, finally looking up at me. His face was deeply lined, eyes bloodshot with heavy dark bags under them. "But-"

"You don't have to worry about it though," I added hastily. "It's Emily's job to handle this kind of crap. I'm going to ask her about it, or Renick if she's too busy too."

Colin closed his eyes for a long moment. "Thank you," he said, opening them.

Maybe I should ask Amy about getting him some better meth.

"Was there anything else?"

My jaw clenched as though to stop myself from saying it. "I saw Scarecrow."

"What does that have to do with anything… Oh, yes, you knew her. What about it?"

"She's f*cked up, man, and it's my fault."

"Everyone makes mistakes."

I frowned. He was trying to placate me so I would leave, but I needed to tell him this.

"No, I really, really hurt her. She wants to kill me, she thinks I'm Empire if she ever found out I was a Ward she'd have a complete meltdown! I've never seen someone who's second triggered, but I bet she would if she knew."

"Look, I don't know how to help you on this one, Greg," Armsmaster said, irritation colouring his voice. "Life is like this sometimes. You sh*t the bed, life sh*ts on someone else for your f*ck up, etc. The cycle continues. Do better next time, that's all there is to it."

"No! I have to break the cycle-"

"I forbid you from revealing your identity to her."

"No, not that, she'd melt my brain. I have to do something though, don't I?" I looked at him imploringly.

"Not really, no. The damage has already been done. Think Tank analysis, which you don't have access to, has her pegged as another statistic who will either get herself killed or become a villain-"

"Why is she getting Think Tank looking at her?"

"They do a once a year sweep," Armsmaster waved a hand to dismiss the sidetrack. "The point is there's nothing you can do, some people are just self-destructive."

"You didn't give up on me."

"I can see you're trying to 'get a gotcha', Greg," Armsmaster rubbed his eyes tiredly. "But the circ*mstances were extremely different. You may have been an insolent fool, but you were putting effort into being a better person. I've spoken to Scarecrow, she's not interested in anything but revenge and she's willing to hurt a lot of people to get there. If she lives another five years she might grow some perspective, or she might spiral downward, but nothing you do can help someone like that. Give it up, don't jeopardise both our careers over this it is not worth it."

We'll find a way.

"Right, I get it. I promise I won't screw us over, thanks, Colin."

"I can see you scheming something, stop it."

"Right."

Victoria answered the door. God, was she beautiful.

"Hey," I said.

She opened her mouth, paused, clicked a few times, then pointed at me with a smile. "You're Dark Smoke Puncher."

I smiled back. "My real name's Greg, I figure I can trust you with it."

Victoria made a zipping gesture and opened the door wider, "you're here to see Amy, right?"

"I am, she is here, right? I wouldn't put it past her to forget I was coming."

Victoria shrugged, looking over her shoulder in the direction of Amy's room. "Amy!" she bellowed.

A slightly muffled, "What?!" echoed from upstairs.

"I'll show you up," Victoria said, stepping back to let me enter the house. It was a nice place, something I didn't care to notice on my last visit. Big without being extravagant, well decorated without losing its homeliness.

I inventoried my shoes as I stepped inside, taking my enormous hoodie with them. I wasn't supposed to leave home without it to conceal my borderline inhuman physique. I'd stopped growing bigger at exactly the twenty-ninth point in Strength, and while I was gigantic for a fifteen-year-old I wasn't quite roids big. There were two downsides to this: I could never go outside as myself without a covering, though I wasn't losing out much there, and I would never be Joestar levels of big.

"We saw your interview," she said chattily, leading me through the house. "You're so lucky to work with Bad Canary like that. She's going to be really big one day, I can tell."

"Yeah, Amy told me you and Dean watched it with her. It was great fun, I'd been wanting to do something like that since way back when I was a busking cape. And, like, I can sing, dance and act so why not get famous, right?"

"Right!" she beamed. "If I wasn't set on parahuman psychology, I think I'd be an actress, but," she shrugged, heading up the stairs. "Less creeps that way."

I neglected to mention all the times I'd looked at upskirt pictures of her on the internet.

"The psychology of us really is interesting, isn't it," I detoured the conversation away from anything incriminating. "I've had a lot of time to read up on it, I'm actually taking a college course at the moment, what's your take on the post-trigger psychological development? I think there's a lot of validity in the Powers Corrupt theory."

"It's too much of a stretch. It would require powers themselves to be acting agents when there is a far simpler explanation that doesn't hinge on the enormous added complexity of powers having a corrupting motive. Power Corrupts makes a lot more sense, it's not like humans without power are immune to it," she traced a finger along the wall as we turned off the staircase. "There had never been a shortage of monsters before superpowers existed."

"While it's true that there's absolutely no evidence for it, I have a Thinker power-"

"Classic Thinker arrogance."

I snorted. "A Thinker power that helps me understand people, and a trend I've observed is that Parahumans have lower wisdom than unpowered people; on average. And on reading dozens of reports there is an observable increase in anti-social behaviour after triggering in most cases. So while it definitely could be that, triggers happening most often to people in bad situations in the first place, that merely having the power to affect their environment in a powerful new way puts people on a negatively reinforcing spiral, I don't think that the power itself having motive should be discounted. I mean, did you find yourself making obviously stupid choices with your power that you could have avoided? I know I did."

Victoria rubbed her chin for a few moments, "I see your point, but, it adds needless complexity to an already complex issue."

"It does, but," I shrugged exaggeratedly. "It makes for a good conversation, doesn't it?"

"It does," she narrowed her eyes at me, a smug smile on her beauteous lips as she opened Amy's door without knocking. "I can see why you like this one, Ames, am I going to have to ask you to leave the door open?"

Other Greg metaphysically sagged in relief.

We f*cking did it, bro!

Hardest be cool moment of our f*cking lives, bro!

Amy made a genuine noise of disgust as she looked up from her phone. "He wishes."

Classic bitch Amy.

"I'll have you know I have a sort of, almost, maybe girlfriend," I shot back. "And she's really hot."

"As if, paying a camgirl a tip doesn't mean she likes you."

"I'll prove it, if you like," I shot back snidely, equipping my work phone. "Just promise you won't spill her identity."

I brought the picture up and tossed it to Amy, who nearly fumbled the catch, and stood there with crossed arms.

Victoria watched the byplay with a mixture of confusion and amusem*nt.

"sh*t," said Amy after a moment. "She's hot."

"Ooh, let me see," Victoria floated over and held out a grabby hand, accepting the phone from a sour-faced Amy. She held it close to her face, slowly rotating as she levitated. "Wow, dude, she's really into you. A girl won't send you a picture wearing that kind of shirt unless she's keen. You better put out quick, Ames, or this girl's going to beat you."

Amy sighed deeply, shaking her head.

Victoria cackled, floating over to hand me my phone. My heart rate spiked as the fluttery feeling of her aura crept over me for a brief second before ebbing away.

"Where did you meet this girl, 'cause she is hot."

"Boston, but she's actually a New York Ward."

"Oh," Victoria's voice dropped. "That long-distance stuff must be hard, she's like ten hours away. Sorry, Greg."

My brow prickled with a sudden cold sweat. What was she talking about? Ten hours wasn't very much, why was she sorry? What did she mean by that?

Normie cucksh*t.

"Eh, I'm not worried," I shrugged, feigning Chadlike confidence. "It's not like I'm here forever, I'm going to go get transferred to somewhere more important sooner rather than later, and I have no problem with New York."

She gave me a gentle, pitying look, "I'm sure it'll be fine. You were on TV, girls like fame."

"I'm a really good judge of character. Thinker, remember?"

"I guess if it's like Deany's power you'd know."

"It's something like that," I hedged. "I can get a pretty good overview of someone's personality."

"I hope things go well then. Anyway," Victoria clapped, settling back down onto the carpet. "What're you here for? Amy never has friends over."

"I'm going to assume for the same reasons you go to your friend's houses."

A discerning glint flickered in her eyes for a split second. Great, I thought that line was smooth. My acting should easily be enough to trick her, but all of her social trifecta stats were really good so maybe she just rolled a twenty or something.

Damn it.

"Makes sense," she rose off the carpet again and floated backwards out into the hallway, shooting us finger guns. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

My heart-rate spiked again as she pulled the door mostly shut behind her, but this time it didn't have anything to do with her aura. sh*t.

"What are you here for anyway?" Amy shifted into a lazy sitting position on her bed.

"Well, I do want your advice on something, but mostly I thought it would be nice to hang out. Catch up and all that," I trundled over to the truly impressive pot plant sitting on her windowsill. A fly landed on one of the tropical-looking flowers and a small harpoon jettisoned from within its depths, spearing the fly and dragging it out of sight. "Like, that's new."

"Yeah, that's the calming flower I told you about. That thing has saved me so much sleep."

I bent over to smell the flower, taking a deep inhalation. It was a new smell, I was sure it hadn't existed before she made it. I didn't have anything to compare it to, but it was extremely nice.

"Impressive," I said. "Very nice. What've you been up to lately? You're much happier."

"Yeah, it was called 'three months without you here'," she snapped.

"You need to lay off the pills if the comedown makes you this crabby, also, give me some."

"You're only saying that because you've never had one," Amy lay back down, sagging into the soft duvet cover. "Do you have any idea how much I get done while I'm on them? I have everything lined up for the second I can get emancipated. The NEPEA laws are a f*cking joke on them, I'm months from owning my own 'health' company. I'm going to be able to help more people but on my terms. No more feeling guilted into those sh*tty hospital hours, no more stupidrulesthat don't do anything to help. Nah, I'm fixing my f*cked up life, let's move to New York and just f*ckinglive."

"I'd like that," I took another sniff of the flower. "Let's do that. I have some stuff to do here first, though, and that might take a while. One of them was what I wanted to ask about."

"Right, lay it on me."

"Please don't think too badly of me for this," I moved over to sit on the edge of her bed, facing the door.

I heard her open her mouth.

"And yeah, yeah, yeah," I cut her off. "Your opinion of me couldn't get any lower. Whatever. I caused Scarecrow's trigger event."

Amy gave an elongated, confused groan. "That was… the crazy girl. The vigilante."

"Yeah."

"It was an accident, right?"

"Of course it was. We were, like, acquaintances at school and I played a really sh*tty prank on her at the wrong time," I stared at my feet, shuffling. "And now she thinks I'm a Nazi and she wants to melt my brain with her fear powers."

"Sounds like you really f*cked up, you utter retard."

"Yep."

I glanced over as she sat up, tucking her legs under herself and rubbing at her bloodshot eyes.

"Give me a quick rundown."

She was silent as I laid out the story, going from the start of high school, her subsequent status as bullied and my bitchmade inaction, to our meeting the other night.

"Sounds complicated," she eventually said. "I don't have any idea on how to fix that. She obviously won't want to hear you out for you to apologise, and letting her get herself killed fighting the gangs is a f*cked move-"

A hiccup sounded from out in the hallway, then a sniffle, then the door burst open as Victoria barreled through it.

"That poor girl," she mashed at her face with her jersey sleeve, leaving wet spots of tears and snot. "We have to help her."

"Get out, you f*cking snoop!"

I really needed enhanced senses. She barely made any noise when she flew slowly, stupid, Greg, stupid. Now she knows how much of a stupid piece of sh*t you are, you cretin. You put so much effort into being cool and you blew it, you f*ckhead, you're a f*cking f*ckhead.

"I thought I'd hear you making out or something! I didn't mean to eavesdrop on something like that!"

"It's cool," I made a placating gesture, forcing myself into a relaxed posture. "I'm here because I need help with this, and I can tell you're really good at this kind of thing, Victoria. What do we do?"

Victoria gave a huge sniffle, swallowed, then scrubbed at her face again. "She just needs a friend. If I see her I'll let her know she can talk to me."

"That might be just what she needs," I agreed. "And you're not a Ward, so I think she'd be more likely to listen to you anyway."

"I'll try. I'll go for a fly tonight and see if I can see her, Amy you need to-"

"No I don't," Amy interjected.

"Yes, you do!" Victoria shifted her hands onto her hips. "She probably has a phobia of pretty girls, so she mightn't trust me by myself."

"Oh, thanks, bitch," Amy muttered. "Go by yourself, I'm busy."

"I didn't say you were ugly."

"Whatever."

They both started looking huffy, and I decided it was best to pretend that I wasn't there.

Every step was an effort greater than the last, each footfall compounding the crippling weight on my shoulders. Mortal men weren't supposed to be subjected to this. It was wrong. It was inhumane.

My lungs felt cold, like with each breath I was inhaling the essence of desolation only the Arctic could bring. I didn't want to do this, but I had to.

I turned to face the jury of my peers and the guillotine of their waiting judgement.

Dean smiled encouragingly.

"I'm sorry I used to be such an annoying dick," I piled all my effort, both my brains, into coming off as sincere and cool as possible. "I've done some work on that, and I hope we can start over and be friends this time instead of you just putting up with me."

Dean looked at Dennis, who looked at Missy, who looked at Chris, who looked at Carlos who looked at Dean.

"Of course we can," Dean said.

It still tasted like ash in my mouth.

Victoria had told me she hadn't seen Taylor during her flyover last night, and I didn't expect it to do much good even if she had. This wasn't an issue so easily solved, Taylor was a wreck. Going from years of bullying into having the power to see only the darkness in the hearts of men? That would screw up anyone's head. I wonder what she'd seen in mine that convinced her I was a Nazi. I was pretty sure that I didn't hate black people, or Jews, or Asians or whatever.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure we'd notice something like that.

Too right we would, Other Greg. It was par for the course that I didn't understand myself, and outside Thinker assistance would be supremely helpful in deciphering the hormonal recesses of my subconscious. Having two minds didn't help, Other Greg didn't have access to anything I didn't. We were the same person, had the same memories and the same outlooks. Divergences could happen if we were separate for long enough and we were specifically concentrating on different things, but we still shared all memory and knowledge which consolidated as soon as we integrated again.

What I needed was to get access to the Protectorate multiple groups of Thinkers and ask them two questions. 'Am I racist?', and, 'how do I fix Taylor?'

Cool evening air ruffled my hair as I kept pace with Carlos and Chris in what was finally a patrol route that wasn't padded kiddy gloves bullsh*t. I could easily take like ninety per cent of the capes in the city in a fight, many even at the same time. PRT duty of care be damned, I wanted to be free, and in the event that any danger even showed up I could invisibly run away faster than they could follow.

I'd forced myself to take a secondary, even tertiary, role in the chit chat which was mostly various gossip from Arcadia. They apparently weren't friends at school, which was pretty wild to think about. I mean, it made sense as they were in different years and had completely different social circles, but, still; wouldn't you want to chill with your Wards homies? There were a million ways to make that work without coming close to compromising identities. Crazy.

"Arcadia sounds pretty baller," I chimed in, pressing down the mic button on my earpiece. "I'll transfer in if they ever let me go back to school here."

"Why don't they?" Chris asked. "It's not like Greg is going to be attacked by the Empire, and I'm sure they have to let us go to school."

"My parents signed a thing so I could be schooled on base, and I'm pretty sure I'd stick out too much, dude, my powers are too obvious."

Chris didn't reply for a few seconds, obviously stewing in his embarrassment for asking such a stupid, obvious question. How many jacked, blond teenagers who moved like water were there in Brockton? Dipsh*t.

We're not doing that anymore remember? Friends.

"That sucks," Carlos interrupted the awkward silence. "Doesn't it get boring being on base by yourself all day?"

"It's not much fun, there's only so much internet surfing you can do before it gets crushingly dull. It's good that my whole music thing is taking off and I can start spending more time on that," I twisted in the air as I leapt between buildings so I could face them. "I have a new song that I'm almost done with, actually. It's one of the wanky PR ones they asked me to make about the ABB slash Empire gang war. I think they just want more donations, honestly. Anyway, I'm thinking 'Unravel' for the title."

I managed to cut myself off before I went into a monologue about the uselessness of the government and how they just wanted to look like they were doing anything when in reality all they wanted to do was line the pockets of their friends with specificallymytax money while the gang war that had hospitalisedmymother continued unabated.

"Well, that's good at least," Carlos said. "Keeps you busy."

"And yet I still need more hobbies. What about you guys, what do you get up to besides Wards sh*t?"

"Look alive, boys!" Missy's voice suddenly cut in over the comms, her being our console overwatch for the evening. "Armsmaster just okayed you to intercept the Undersiders, they were just seen breaking into some building downtown."

Carlos and Chris came to an immediate halt, floating in mid-air while I drifted out of my latest jump onto a street light. Undersiders, eh? The team with two confirmed murderers who weren't shy about hurting people? I guess we were a pretty good match for them, Chris was out of their range and Carlos almost couldn't be debilitated.

"Oh sh*t, copy that, Vista!" Carlos said, voice cracking in surprise. "Where at?"

"The corner of Cushman and Lewis. Backup's ETA is five minutes."

We turned, me remembering exactly where that intersection was from having looked at the map of the city once and Chris having GPS in his heads up display, Carlos followed our lead and we rocketed away. In order of speed, I was just faster than Carlos, who was faster than Chris, but both of them could fly without being reliant on the rooftop terrain. For once I was the one holding back the pace as Chris gripped Carlos' hand and let himself be dragged faster than his hoverboard could propel. I wasn't holding them back by much, but damn I really needed a bloody flying spell.

Downtown wasn't terribly far from where we were, and moving faster than city traffic in a straight line let us make fantastic time.

"What's the plan, Aegis?" I asked.

There was a few seconds pause. "Armsmaster thinks we're good for it, so you can jump in and smash some heads with me while Chris keeps them under suppressive, right?"

"Absolutely."

The timing was beyond fortuitous, as we closed in on the address they were just leaving. And they obviously didn't know we were coming because they weren't in a special rush. Sure, there was a smooth professional speed to their movements, but nothing to imply they were trying to escape their unavoidable impending arrest.

I hit the ground near them, and in the time it took for their heads to turn my way I had already leapt forward and kicked the one of Hellhound's giant mutant dogs she was sitting astride. The magically enhanced kick blasted it across the pavement and onto the street, clipping the wing mirror off of a parked car, and I caught Hellhound out of the air as she fell in an uncontrolled tumble. In a flash of blue, she was encased in a thick shackle of mana, and safely on the ground.

"Evac! Evac, Evac, Evac, Eva-"

Tattletale's wild screech was cut off by the thick smoke so black it looked like a two-dimensional object as it spewed from under Grue's bike leathers. I met it with a deluge of my blue smoke, the two fluffy smoke banks melding seamlessly into each other and over both groups. Sound vanished, leaving me in pitch black with only my heartbeat and breath and the feel of solid ground underfoot to keep me aware.

Grue's smoke dampened mine? I lunged for where Regent had been, fingers swiping on air as I felt around for something solid. My fingertip touched cloth and mana poured out to encase-

The Undersiders all slumped to the ground in unison, Grue's cover smoke fading away into the night breeze. I dismissed my smoke to get a proper look at what had just happened.

Grue, Tattletale, Regent and Hellhound had turned into RealDolls, Hellhound's still shackled by my spell, each dressed in crude facsimile of their Cape outfits. The mutant dogs looked to be slowly melting into puddles of meat.

"What the f*ck?"

I turned to look at Aegis as he floated down, "I think they might have teleported?"

"And been replaced by sex dolls?" he scoffed, putting a hand to his comms. "Win, can you come have a look at this?"

Chris floated down, holstering his spark pistols, and stepped off his hoverboard. "It's over already? What happened?"

"We think they might have done some kind of switch-teleport, can you take some readings?"

"Yeah, just give me…" Chris pressed at a few points on his left arm guard, prompting a series of blue lines to appear and spit out his scanner. He gingerly knelt beside the sex dolls and waved his scanner over them, which made dial-up internet and Geiger counter noises. He inspected the screen. "I'm getting dimensional residue, so, teleported. Since when could they do that?"

"Coil's mercs have tinker guns," Carlos said, shrugging and putting a hand to his ear. "Maybe from him? Vista, Win says they got away by teleporting."

"It only makes sense," I spoke into my own communicator. "Tattletale shouted 'evac' a bunch of times when I kicked Hellhound's dog. Also, can you write it up that I winged a car mirror when I did that? License plate six nine nine two L H."

It was a little surprising how quickly they escaped, but considering they were about two seconds away from all being arrested I couldn't fault them.

Ah, excellent. That last level had taken a while. I hadn't been getting many of my usual quests again until quite recently. The quest power clearly worked off of my subconscious to some degree, and I hadn't been in the best place recently. Very demotivated.
I'd managed to keep up with the gym out of sheer habit, though increases in strength and vitality were becoming increasingly difficult to come by now, it had taken roughly the same amount of time to get from four to thirty-five as it had to hit forty-five, which I had gotten to yesterday. It was so much effort that I was seriously considering putting my points into one just to hit fifty so I could quit lifting so much. But, in the end, that was a mental trap and I was much better off upping my dexterity or intelligence and working for the others.

"How did you hit a car with that?"

"I kicked the dog into the car, it was awesome."

"It's almost a shame that I didn't get to do anything," Carlos said, feet finally touching the ground as he alighted. "They vanished, like, the second we got here."

"Well, that's their whole deal right? They're good at running."

Carlos clicked his tongue, "so it would seem."

I wandered over to the building they were assumedly robbing, the door of which was still open. I equipped a pair of sterile gloves and pushed my way inside, making sure to scout ahead with a cloud of mana just in case Victor was hiding in a shadowy corner.

There was nobody in the foyer, the reception desk empty and the computer screen off. My smoke crept up the stairwell to the left, hidden behind an alcove, and I followed it quietly, blending into the shadow. The empty stairs led up to an office, rows of desks empty and off, a single room at the back lit by the fluorescent bar light, a pot plant throwing a spiked shadow onto the floor.

My smoke flowed under the door and, over human shapes.

"We have bodies," I barked into the comms. "In the building upstairs."

"Dammit, Dark Smoke, don't wander off!" Carlos hissed. "I'm coming, wait for me."

"Roger that."

I felt one of them wriggle, and muffled shouting started up from inside the room.

"They're live," I said to Carlos, then called out loud. "Please remain calm, I'm Dark Smoke Puncher, with the Protectorate. We've got help coming, it won't even be a minute and we'll have you out of there, ok? So don't you even worry."

They struggled harder and yelled more muffled yells. Carlos barreled out of the stairwell behind me.

"Hold on, it might be a trap."

"What is it?"

"When I said I was Protectorate they didn't react right," I whispered. "It's just a feeling, but maybe we should wait for the bomb squad or something."

"Yeah?" he whispered back, floating up to get a better view inside the office. He drifted back down next to me. "How many are you counting?"

"Six, all tied up."

"sh*t. Yeah, we're waiting for that backup," he floated back into the stairwell, with me in tow. "Vista, what's the ETA on our backup? Tell them we've got six hostages, possible trap. Bomb squad on Thinker advisem*nt."

"Oh, sh*t, hang on, I'll patch them into our line. Can you go through that again?"

We came off the stairs, crossed the foyer and exited back onto the street as the wail of sirens started coming in. I'd say it was going to be a long night, but we all clocked off in half an hour. The perks of being a Ward.

It was a few days after the Undersiders fight and we sat in the briefing room again, all arranged around the very far end of the table. Armsmaster paced at the tables head, cursing and spitting at the bureaucrat on the other end of the phone.

"I don't care whattheysay, you f*cking idiot,Isay that it's necessary! You get back onto them and file that damn requisition form!"

He hung up and turned back to us. "Right. We've run it through our people, and what we wrung out of the Empire 'hostages' is true. What the Undersiders stole was the location of safe houses and supply caches; soft targets. Then they apparently sold the information to the ABB, who have been hitting said targets.Obviously," he ground out, continuing his pacing. "This is exacerbating the conflict, and we can only conclude that Coil is attempting to incite the gang war to greater heights. To what end, we are not yet sure, but his rating has been bumped up from C to B and the Undersiders from D to C. The Empire and ABB will retain their current threat rating of A, and we will not be receiving backup."

Dauntless let his hand drop, from where it had been propping up his head, onto the table. "How many extra shifts?"

"Double," Armsmaster glared at him like he was being insolent. "From all of you. Wards, that means you, too. Tell your parents you'dloveto help out more and we can give you more half days at school so you can run more public appearances. Dark Smoke," he whipped a hand to point at me. "Has your song been checked over?"

I nodded.

"Good, you're going to be performing it. We want all the Wards to be at the 'Movies in the Park' event tomorrow, you know the drill. Happy smiles," he waved his hand dismissively. "Everything is under control. There is nothing to fear."

"I'll make sure we're all there," said Carlos.
"Good, rope in that lazy Browbeat while you're at it," Armsmaster turned to the adult side of the table. "Assault, a quick rundown on your latest report."

"Right," Carlos whispered, glancing at Armsmaster to make sure he didn't disrupt him. "You're all good to be there, right? I'll tell him you were if you can't make it."

"I want to skip it," Missy whispered back. "I have friends over this weekend."

"I'll make a clone of you for the press shots," I said, leaning in. "He'll never know."

"Ooh, could you?"

"Sure can," I grinned.

Dennis reached over, tapping my arm. "Hey, make one for me too, I don't want to sit around watching some kiddy movie for hours."

"Yeah, ok, it's just that they can't talk at once so if I'm having my Vista one talk I can't have yours say anything.Andthey can't be too far away from me or people will walk into the strings. And I'll be busy all night so it'll be pretty obvious if both of you are statues half the time, two's going to have to be the limit."

I couldn't micromanage six clones at once, not at my current level. Maybe in the far off future when I could make fully independent clones.

"You'll be fine, Dennis," Carlos said. "Just come for a bit, then leave when the movie starts."

"Whatevs."

"I'm fine to be there the whole time," Chris said.

"I'll be there, too," said Dean.

"Cool, that'll make them happy. We can leave early anyway, so, just token appearances."

We all nodded our agreement, but I was still going to be there the entire time and max out my popularity gains. Everyone knew that children were the biggest consumers, and if I was popular amongst that demographic it would be fantastic for my career to have that kind of household appeal. No longer would it be my fault that I wasn't popular.

Pointless though it may be in a world heading for the apocalypse, I still wanted to try. To give up would lead to stagnation; stagnation was death. Nothing was as dangerous to me as mediocrity. Mediocrity would lead me on a steady path back to where I used to be, before powers, before maturing and, before learning that I could be whoever I wanted. Mediocrity was a pit, stagnation the crabs. Not giving up was the only ladder out.

For me now, the climb was all there was.

My Mana Disguise spell benefited from [Multitask], like my camouflage spell, rendering it far cheaper than it had been. At this point, I could have it on just about all day without risking running out, and it was no longer dispelled by someone bumping into me too hard. Today, I had taken on the guise of an ambiguously Hispanic teenager with brown hair and eyes, still obviously quite buff, but with a bit of extra fat and a gut to round out my size a little. The reason for my disguise? We were going Taylor hunting.

It wasn't going very well.

"Do you think this would fit me?" Victoria held up a dress to Amy and me, turning left and right with it pressed up against her.

Amy shrugged.

"She's not going to be at the mall, even on a weekend," I said. The dress did fit her, and it would have looked amazing. "She's probably still asleep."

"Duh," said Victoria. "We're still in the planning phase, which is why we're in the last place she'll ever be."

"What plan do we need? We just introduce ourselves and be friendly, then over time we influence her away from being crazy."

"' Be prepared', boy scout," she put the dress back on the rack. "We need to know how we're going to do this. What's our approach? How do we open? What is she into so we can properly ingratiate ourselves? You might be able to wing it, but we don't know her."
"Fair point," I said. "You need a soft approach, if you push at all she'll close up and back away. If she starts being extra quiet and awkward, you should probably stop and try again later. Try not to frame anything as 'high school', in fact, don't even mention school because she won't respond well. If it has to come up, say that school sucks and the teachers are all idiots."

Victoria nodded seriously, one hand on her hip, the other stroking her chin.

"Don't push her on that she's doing the wrong thing either, she's very convinced she's in the right and you might ruin your chances if you say that too early. Try talking about capes, or classical literature, or how much you hate the gangs and drugs-"

"f*ck me, she sounds horrible," cut in Amy. "How much effort are you going to put into this chick? This sh*t could take you years."

"I have to fix this, it's my fault."

"Is it though?" she continued. "Sounds more like it was that other girl's fault, and Taylor was already crazy to begin with. You're a complete retard, but all you need to do is apologise."

"No," I said, staring at our feet. "I have to reconcile this."

It was the only way I could truly move forward. It was the last shackle holding me to the corpse of my previous self. With Taylor helped, equilibrium could be reached and I could be happy. It was representative, I had moved forward and Taylor had regressed; both due to my actions. Without this I would always have that reminder, that regret sitting in the back of my head, leaving me unable to truly move forward out of the crab pit.

Taylor was my last rung.

"He's right, Ames. Sometimes there are just things you have to do if you want to be a hero."

"I don't think that includes flagellating yourself over some girl."

"I have to Amy, it's the right thing to do."

"Just send that bitch an apology," she scoffed, pulling out her phone, checking the time, then pocketing it again. "If she's still going to act like an idiot, she's not worth the time."

"Well…" Victoria dithered on the word. "Maybe. It could be that this ends up the kind of situation where you have to cut someone toxic out of your mind. If we do our best and she's still like this, then…"

"I get it."

I didn't get it.

"If it can't be done, well," I shrugged, looking up but not meeting either of their eyes. "We'll have to let it go."

Victoria put a soft hand on my shoulder. "Sometimes it's not up to you to fix someone, but not trying is the worse option of the two."

Amy put her hand on my other shoulder. "I don't think you should bother at all."

"Amy!" Victoria smacked her hand away.

"What? He appreciates it when you don't sugarcoat, don't you Greg?"

"It's not about that," Victoria huffed, the motion blowing a strand of curled blond hair away from her face. "It's about a positive mindset. If you tell yourself you can't, you never will. Don't poison the well."

"f*ck the well, it'll be worse when she doesn't change. This is one of those Sishyphycian efforts."

"It's Sisyphean," Victoria replied witheringly. "A Sisyphean effort. Like dealing with you for more than half an hour."

"I'm going to rub it in your face as hard as I can when he f*cks up," Amy sneered. "Like, what did you used to say, Greg, 'the only winning move is not to play'?"

I hoped this was Amy being her usual short-sighted self and not an insight she'd gleaned from homemade nootropic MDMA, the effects of which must be considerable. She'd gone from thirteen intelligence to fifteen, which wasn't too crazy and was possibly due to just getting older, but if she kept it up she could end up a genius.

But also, f*ck Amy.

"I hope you're ready for me to rub it in your face," I shot back. "There's nothing I can't do."

My quest to save Taylor proved it, it would only take time.

"Eh, it's up to you," Amy said. "I'll still help, but don't expect much."

"All I need are your thoughts and prayers."

Amy snorted, "whatever, dude. Can we go eat now, I'm super hungry."

"And it all unraaavels…"

The band trailed off behind me as the crowd went wild with the thermobaric force of dozens of squealing children. A sea of cheering families, the waves of their enjoyment crashing over me and eroding the calcified worry buried in my heart. It was this feeling of excitement, of security, that I reflected back at them magnified through my powers. Acting, Voice acting, Singing, Charisma empowerment, Sound generation, Ventriloquism. All of it moulded together and thrown into the resonating crowd.

"Thank you all so much for coming here tonight! Times like these affect us all, and that's why it's more important than ever to stick together. Some people don't like that, but it's not up to them, it's up to us. All of us!" I made an encompassing gesture and held up a fist.

"Brockton together strong!"

I paused for dramatic effect and the crowd erupted, cheering, hollering and stamping their picnic blankets; some even shouting, 'Brockton together strong!' back to me.

"Brockton together strong!" I bellowed back to them. "It won't be easy, but it'll be worth it! And now what we're all here for, we've got a great new Aleph import movie for you all! 'Harry Potter and the Celedfwlch Conspiracy', I've never seen it either so I'll be sure to enjoy it along with you. Have a fantastic evening, and enjoy the movie!"

I bowed and moved over to the band, quickly inventorying all the heavier equipment, then exited stage left while waving with both hands to more cheers.

I was walking on air, steps light and breezy. I just wanted to entertain.Thatwas my great purpose in life. Oh gosh, I was on so many endorphins right now; come to me, Dopamine, Serotonin! I floated down the steps leading down from the little raised stage in front of the big projector screen, and around the back to the band's van. I gently placed the drum kit and amplifiers onto the mats laid out on the grass.

"Hey, thanks kid," Dale, the bands' guitarist slash manager said.

I smiled. "Thank you guys, too! We nailed it, I'll make sure if we get another gig like this to get you first on the list of people we hire."

"No problem," he shook my hand. "Easiest gig we ever played at. Great vibes, man, great vibes. We'd love to play with you again."

"I'm sure I can get something on, and I'll try and give you more notice this time, too. I tried to make it easy, but you only had like two days to learn the song."

"Ah," Dale waved a hand. "It was only one song."

"Anyway," I shook the other band members hands. "I have to get back to my seat for the movie, you guys have a great night."

"No problems there, Dark Smoke Puncher. It's a Saturday night and we're in a band, we'll find a way," he winked cheekily.

I cackled, clicking them finger guns. "Don't go too crazy, seeyas later!"

We waved and departed. I made my way back around the screen to the row of six chairs up along the left side of the main watching area set aside for us Wards. It was far enough away from the crowd that we could speak without being overheard but close enough to the screen so that we could still enjoy the movie. I did a half-lap down the edge of the crowd, laying down some sick high fives to deserving toddlers, before looping back up to my seat next to the Vista clone.

A single hair-thin strand of mana latched onto the clone as I sat to its right, giving me back direct control.

"That was an amazing job, Dark Smoke Puncher," I said, throwing my Missy impersonation into the Vista clone's mouth. "I'm going to tell Piggot to give you a raise."

"You're too kind, Vista."

Dennis, who was sitting next to me, burst into muffled snigg*rs. "You can damn well sing, though. I remember when you used to sound like that nerd out of The Simpsons."

"I did a lot of practice," I said, a little shortly. "And the effort paid off."

"What're they PRT paying you for it?" he asked. "I know you had that one other song."

"I get royalties when they're released and sold, which should be a sh*tload of money eventually. Plus all the royalties from the other merch that goes with it," I forced a chuckle. "They're even going to make poseable Dark Smoke Puncher figurines."

And that sh*tbird SupaGokuFiyah was going to desecrate them, I just knew. He still had it out for me for some reason, spewing his filth all over my favourite waifus. I swear he was doing it on purpose, it seemed like every time I said I liked a character he as there with her Figma, and as Void Cowboy I had spent a lot of time talking up Dark Smoke Puncher.

Like, a lot of time.

"They tell everyone they're going to get figurines, but I don't think anyone but Vista got any. There was that metal guy in Boston-"

"Weld."

"Yeah, him," Dennis continued. "And like, Miss Militia did when she was in the Wards, but it barely happens unless you're senior Protectorate."

"Three years isn't long, I can wait that much for sweet merch. Dark Smoke Puncher the T-Shirt, Dark Smoke Puncher the colouring book, Dark Smoke Puncher the lunch box, Dark Smoke Puncher the breakfast cereal and, Dark Smoke Puncher the nun-chucks."

"Pfft, best I ever got was a limited series of wristwatches for, like, collectors or something," he shrugged. "I don't even know if the royalties were enough for me to notice. Or even if I got any…"

I shrugged back at him as the movie started. Bet's version of the movie was Prisoner of Azkaban, and apparently, this one contained several key similarities. The fugitive godfather, Rigel, the rat friend who betrays him, Petyr, and the Dementors. Though for some reason at the end of this one Voldemort was back and trying to get his hands on the scabbard of Excalibur which would restore him to life; a shameless rehash of Philosopher's Stone. I'd spoiled myself on it beforehand completely on accident coming across a thread on one of my imageboards, but the movie didn't sound that good anyway so I wasn't too fussed.

"Hey," whispered Dennis, nudging me with an elbow. "Time to do the thing."

"Ok, just," I leaned over, putting a fingertip to his shoulder and disconnecting from the Vista clone. "On the count of three, stand up. It won't last long so make sure you're out of sight. One."

I pulled a chunk of mana from the well within me, shaping it with the familiar pattern of Chameleon Skin. Before the spell could crystalise and cover me I reversed the feeling of the targeting, pushing it outward.

"Two."

Other Greg wrapped another piece of magic around and around, preparing it for solid form.

"Three."

Dennis stood up, the cloaking spell covering him from back to front as the clone formed underneath him, bumping his legs and causing him to stumble like a dweeb. Luckily for him, he was invisible. The timing was a little off, but I'd never practised that move so I could forgive myself.

The borderline invisible skin of mana covering Dennis moved in front of me. Even I couldn't see it, but I could feel exactly where it was.

"Thanks, Greg, this is f*cking trippy though. I feel like I'm going to trip over my own feet," the mana wobbled unsteadily on its feet. "See you guys tomorrow!"

Dennis beelined away, half tripping with every other step as he adjusted to being unable to see any of his limbs. I connected my wires back to the two clones, making them fidget a little as I got used to the controls.

I settled back in my chair and focused on the movie.

The start was very much the same as our version in terms of basic overview, though Uncle Vernon's sister had brought cages of cats with her and wore pastels. She was likely a proto-Umbridge used early.

I started fiddling with the new armour on my gloves, picking at the decorative rivets. Armsmaster had done a fantastic job in taking my look from LARPing ninja to tacticool shinobi without making me look cringe, despite the designs I'd sent him ripping off a half dozen design concepts from various obscure manga. It was a complimentary contrast, I thought, to Savannah's flight suit which was modelled after the sleek lines of a stealth fighter jet and plated in the red and gold homage to Hero most new Protectorate heroes favoured. We'd make a great promotional poster picture together.

I realised I'd sort of zoned out on the movie, probably because it wasn't very interesting. In the interest of avoiding candid shots of me ignoring the movie I'd just claimed to be very interested in watching, I put on a Disguise of me staring at the big screen before equipping my phone.

Greg: hey cutiewhat's goin on?
Greg: I'm stuck watching a movie at a publicity event

I glanced between the dragging first act of the movie and my phone for a few minutes before she responded.

Savannah: Muscle Boi.
Savannah: I'm recalibrating my flight stabilizers again. I have no idea why they can't stay fixed where I put them to. It's a good thing I love doing this or I imagien it would be odiously tedious. What movie?

Greg: aleph harry potter 3, it's worse than the bet version
Greg: being tinker is suffering, i don't think i'll ever develop that part of my powers

Savannah: Imagine*
Savannah: The suffering is rewarding, I think. There's always something to do, always something to improve, always new avenues of methodology to explore. Isn't it the same with you?

Greg: yeah, it is. I think we have a lot of the same struggles in that regard, every new thing we make needs attention and fine-tuning if we want it to be useful in the long run. But that takes time and effort, which leads us down the road of workaholism to be useful. At least my powers don't need constant upkeep, I can't imagine how frustrating it would be if they degraded like tinkertech. Having to watch my percentages tick down and devote my time to only a select core of powers; maddening. I'm really lucky.

Savannah: True, that, lol. There's really no combating the workahol, I can't think of a single successful tinker who has a social life. If you want friends you have to settle for mediocrity.

Greg: It sounds really bad when you put it like that, but you might be right. A friend, but not friends, and they have to get that you need to spend all those hours with your work and not them

Savannah: I know, right. It's good that Alvita is here, even though we only hang out once a week and talk about work

Greg: Yeah, I think my only real friend I see is Panacea, and that was mostly just working at the hospital together which they're going to let me start doing again soon! They decided that the whole Nazi assassination thing has blown over. I'm going to ask if I can go back to school even, academically pointless though it may be, but not my old one that place is a hole

Savannah: Brockton is so weird
Savannah: brb tinkering

I realised my face had been split into a big ol' dumb grin the whole time. I wriggled in my seat, biting back a tittering giggle. I was now completely, entirely, one hundred per cent sure she liked me back. For the first time in my entire life, a girl actually liked me back. Me, Greg Veder. Nerd sperglord supreme no longer, I had moulted that facet of my personality like a graceful spider and was now free to feel the good vibes with my sensitive leg hair.

Greg: No problem, enjoy yourself

I was Greg Veder. I had real friends and a girl who liked me.

In the end, I think that was all I ever really wanted.

Something tapped on my shoulder. I looked over to see Carlos stretching over the Dennis clone and tapping me on the shoulder. He tapped again, then again. Oh, right.

I dropped my Disguise and he flinched slightly, mouthed 'whatever', then whispered, "I'm bored as hell, can you get me out of here too?"

I grinned sunnily. "Of course, get ready."

I dropped control of my clones and reached in for my magic, working it as I had done for Dennis. The transition went a little smoother, Carlos floating up out of his chair and circling back around to hover behind me.

"Thanks a million, Greg, I owe you one."

"No problems, my dude," I looked over my shoulder at the ever so slight shimmer in the air he had become. "Don't even trip."

He clapped me on the shoulder and flew off into the night.

It was a good night, too. Clear and wholesome, with young families enjoying Harry Potter and I, Greg, had friends and a girl who was into me.

Oh, the changes seven months could bring. I remembered, I remembered perfectly. From weirding out the agent who escorted me to meet Armsmaster for the first time to my god awful attempt at dating Sophia to my brief attempts at killing Amy's monsters that neither of us enjoyed, now, finally, to here on this day. The scene played out in my mind.

The corpse of Old Greg was truly lifeless now, a withered thing in a stained, faded Idolmaster t-shirt. Skin greying and eyes sunken, mummified in my mind. He was dead, but not forgotten. The shed where he lived lay in ashes around him, all the trophies and inanities he coveted burned with him. If you looked closely, the pattern of wrinkling on his skin resembled a bulge I shamefully recognised, the last remnant of his insipid life.

I took to a shovel, working it into the dirt with slow solemnity. It was over and now it was time to tidy up. The grave I dug was shallow and unmarked, and it was here I would finally bury him, put him away where I would never need to see him again. I moved back over to him, half expecting him to make a last feeble attempt at explaining what a Mary Sue was, but he was silent and still. I grabbed him by the shrunken ankle, just above his velcro sneaker, and hauled him to the grave, casting him-

A gunshot.

I startled back into awareness, looking around as a visible wave of fear and confusion washed over the crowd of families.

Another shot echoed faintly over the park.

I dispelled the clones, leaping to my feet. Chris and Dean were both frozen in their seats for a split second before galvanising to action as the families started screaming. The screaming sounded as if it were coming from underwater, my ears felt plugged and my voice choked. I turned to Dean to ask what-

This is ours.

I turned to Dean to tell him what we should do.

"I need you and Kid Win to both guide the families after I calm them down," I spoke, forcing all the command I could copy from Armsmaster into my tone and posture as I could. "I'll make a path, and I'll need you to lead them."

"Kid Win," I turned to him, feeling a charlatan as the gunshots grew louder. "I need you to be bright and loud, you're going to take point and be their focus."

I put a hand to each of their shoulders. "We've got this."

There wasn't time to hear their replies, I had to save everyone.

I turned on a dime, taking off at a sprint, landing on the stage in two steps. I told Chris bright and loud, but I'd have to lead by example.

I lit up in a brilliant flash, light spell boosted as high as I could.

{Dark Smoke Pun-Cha!}

The guitar riff rolled over the crowd, smothering their panicked screaming enough for me to take a deep, deep breath.

"I'm going to make a path!" I bellowed, forcing my voice out over the families in an attempt to drown out Harry Potter. "This is Brockton, we can handle this! Follow Gallant and Kid Win!"

I brought both hands up, wire fine smoke billowing out past them, expanding out into gentle green walls that led out of the park opposite the growing firefight. There were a few fewer screams.

"Please follow Gallant and Kid Win! We'll get you to safety, that's my Dark Smoke Promise!"

Then, in a trampling herd, the families obeyed; allowing themselves to be shepherded into the smoke walled path by Gallant and then to follow Kid Win who emitted a siren and whirled with red and blue lights atop his hover-board.

I backflipped up, landing on a support strut for the screen, and looked over my shoulder at the flashes of gunfire that grew closer still.

sh*t. f*ck. God damn sh*t f*ck! f*cking c*nt wanker sh*t f*cker!

"You're doing great!" I shouted, to myself.

Oh god, why?

A figure burst out of the tree cover behind me, fleeing the guns. They sprinted, superhumanly fast, the Mad Max cage of metal around their head glinting in the movie's backlight.

No. No, no, no, no.

No.

She slowed, jogging into a confident strut right up to underneath me, cast in an eerie half-light under the dusk.

"I thought that was you up there," Cricket raised one of her Kamas at me, the other hand pressed to her throat. "Little Rat Boy."

"So we're after Excalibur's scabbard," Harry Potter said. "And we have to get to it before Voldemort."

I closed the window. I didn't want to know.

My armpits were sticky.

"We never paid you back properly, did we?" Cricket croaked through her artificial larynx.

I swallowed, lips smacking on dry tongue.

"If you don't come down here and fight me I'm going to go," she gestured vaguely to the area hidden behind the screen where the families still escaped. "And cut some civvies before I get back to slicing up those f*cking chinks."

My feet felt heavy like they were made of clay.

Cricket scoffed, made into a staccato growl by her voice modulator, and a flutter of nausea wormed up in my belly. Her power, or my cowardice? She shook her head in disgust and stalked off around the stage.

We can't let her do this.

I know. And I know we're supposed to go down there and fight her, deliver some smug one-liner about how racism is bad, and save the day.

So we do it.

Our legs won't move, retard.

Then how about…

-1

The sudden jolting electrical pain shot over my skin bright and sharp, into my heart, bringing with it a huge rush of adrenaline. It was fight or flight, and both Gregs were saying 'fight!'

I turned to where Cricket was making her slow, deliberate way around the screen and jumped, landing in front of her.

She chirped. "Thank god."

I didn't say anything, I just moved into the fighting stance Jiraiya made feel natural. Cricket twirled her Kamas, settling into her own showy stance, a sinister smile peeking out from in between the bars of her facial cage.
One punch. I could finish this in one punch.

I moved, boosted, the single-step closing me in on her in a fraction of a second and my stomach turned, my head spun and I whiffed the punch as she juked to the right. Cricket's sickle lashed out, finding a gap in my armour.

I barely even felt it.

"First blood!" she crowed, dancing away as I spun back to face her, spitting the taste of bile out of my mouth. "Rat Boy ain't sh*t."

Mana smoke leaked from me, covering us both, but she just laughed.

Mana Beam plus Arc Flash.

My hand shot out, fore and middle fingers extended, a bolt of lightning bursting from their tips. I gagged and retched, lighting beam spitting and crackling as it burnt a black line through the grass to Cricket's left. My eyes blurred with tears, world spinning. I heard her coming.

Spinning Mana Shield plus Arc Flash.

Blazing white lighting erupted from my skin, churning through the air to meet Cricket's incoming blades. She flinched back, slipping on the night-damp grass to narrowly avoid being fried.

Cricket made a buzzing sound in her throat, pacing defensively around the dark circle my power had drawn. My vision spun again-

-as I struggled to stand, breath catching in my throat in harsh pants.

"Why can't you just f*ck off!" I sobbed, voice nasal. "Leave me alone you, you f*cking…"

Old Greg stirred in my mind, feeble fingers reaching, grasping. They settled around my ankle and an old familiar feeling of edgy memes flowed through me.

"You f*cking nigg*r!"

Cricket stopped pacing, her surprised expression in the fading smoke one of having heard a terribly funny joke.

I retched again as she laughed.

"nigg*r!" she jeered. "nigg*r, nigg*r, nigg*r!"

"f*ck off!"

Cricket cackled, the sound spilling me onto the grass.

"Oh," she sighed, the sound discordant and harsh. "It feels so good to laugh. You know what, kid, you're alright. I'm still going to cut you up though."

She took a step forward and I burst into lightning again, then cast a wild hand out toward her that spewed a torrent of sparks. She evaded again, almost easily. The files said Cricket could dodge bullets, and I didn't even have a gun.

"Just let me cut you a bit," she said, blasting me with even more gut-wrenching power than before. "It'll be over quick."

I choked on sour hot dogs, half-digested mustard burning my nose through the tang of my lightning's ozone. Lumps of half-digested food dribbled from my lips, plopping onto the burnt grass. I heaved, another fresh wave of nausea forcing the last of my dinner out.
I just wanted it to be over. Cuts would heal in minutes. I hung my head.

No.

Cricket stepped in.

Other Greg and Iswitched.

Ourhandlashedout.

Mana Beam plus Arc Blade.Speed Enhancement.

There was no time for her to dodge, the sword of brilliant lightning took her in the hip and continued on through up out her armpit.

It was like cutting through rice paper.

Both halves of Cricket toppled to the ground, a dark red mess slowly seeping from the burnt, cauterised gizzards bringing with it a thick iron tang.

I dry heaved, heaved until my body ached. I equipped my phone, cold fingers fumbling over the display until it started ringing.

"What i-"

"I killed her."

"I'm on my way," Colin sounded panicked, harried. "Don't move."

"I killed Cricket."

"Don't move, Greg. I'm coming."

"I killed her, Colin."

"I'm almost there, juststay calm."

"I," my stomach churned again, cutting off my words. "I will."

"Good lad, can you stay on the line with me?"

"Yeah. I'm just gonna… go sit down."

"That's good," Colin soothed tersely. "Have a sit-down, we're coming for you."

I crawled over to the side of the stage, sitting on the grass against it. I turned away from Cricket and closed my eyes.

6th May 2011- Coil

Even in times of victory caution was necessary. It was a habit to be maintained at all times, not a thing to be put on a few times a year in a crude attempt to cover up mistakes already made. No, caution was the lifeblood of the game, it was his mantra. So, even now that this final niggling puzzle had been solved he still maintained his daily caution.

"The news has come in."

His Tattletale sat across from him in plainclothes mirroring his grim smile, though she didn't know it. He still wore his costume, one carefully designed to hide as many traces of his identity as possible.

"He is being permanently transferred to Los Angeles, under the protection of Alexandria."

The scenario could have gone better. Veder could have died along with Cricket, that would have been supremely satisfying in multiple ways, but, as it was it was still a good outcome.

"Freakin' finally," said Tattletale, rolling her eyes. "When?"

"The sixteenth of this month," Coil said, leaning back in his chair a fraction of an inch. "We played this well."

Since day one the boy had been an unaccounted for irritation. Exposing his Tattletale's identity to the Protectorate, leaking that the Undersiders worked for him, exposing his moles and, most importantly, delaying the takeover schedule. Thomas Calvert couldn't be near him lest Coil's identity be found out, as it immediately had in several timelines where he met Veder to gauge his reactions.

"It's a shame he didn't die."

Coil nodded. "That would have been optimal, a fantastic blow to the integrity of the PRT."

The ploy had eventually worked. Blaming Dark Smoke Puncher with the leaking of key Empire capes and unpowered personnel had the desired effect of getting the Empire to gun for his blood. It had very nearly almost worked out perfectly the first time, but the Wards Thinker rating was a tough thing to counter letting him somehow see through Cymatic's powers without getting immediately pasted across the pavement. It had brought a brief reprieve when he was sent to Boston, though that had been spoiled by utter chance.

Who could have known that the very gang war Coil had helped incite would hospitalise the boys' mother?

"This will have to suffice. You did well in manipulating the gangs into that shoot out. That a Ward has killed a villain, even in self-defence, puts them directly into the line of everyone's fire," Coil allowed himself a moment of expressed glee. "Director Piggot may even step down this very week."

In his other reality, Thomas Calvert took a cheerful afternoon walk through the bicycle track not too far from his home, feeling the weekend sun on his face. Thomas Calvert lived a simple life, a man of few acquaintances and modest means, and taking walks in the afternoon sun was a pastime he cherished.

"I hope it's worth it this time, this kid has been the biggest pain in the ass," his Tattletale huffed. "He makes a good pawn, but god damn is he infuriating."

"Quite. It was unfortunate he came to the conclusion we were after him, but he's been dealt with."

Now that the boy was with Alexandria she would never let him return, in part because Alexandria was almost certainly strongly affiliated with Cauldron and Veder would likely know the moment he looked at her and, in part because he was slated to become capable of reaching near the top level of parahuman power. He was an asset that Coil himself would have liked to have a cordial relationship with, but one couldn't have everything in life.

"The plan will proceed as I outlined."

Tattletale nodded.

"As a heads up, Tattletale, I have acquired a new set of talent. You've heard of The Travelers?"

"Yep, mercenary group. Shady rep," she wrinkled her nose and crossed her legs. "Lots of unexplained disappearances. They're effective though, good power set for the jobs they do."

Coil inclined his head slightly. "They will be coming to the city quite soon, I'd like you to compile the usual profiles before they arrive."

"You got it."

Coil smiled. The Travelers, he hoped, would prove to be a worthwhile gambit. The girlfriend of their leader, Trickster, was the one behind the disappearances. Her power had mutated her into a nearly uncontrollable beast, ravenous for raw meat, who produced murderous clones of anyone who touched her. Caution was his mantra, but the thrill of the knifes edge was what truly lit the fire in his belly. How well could he balance caution while handling such dangerous assets?

"Then you are dismissed."

Coil stood, turned. He faced the wall, ignoring his Tattletale. He felt the hair on his arms raise as goose-pimples swept across them with a great flush of adrenaline. He needed to ask more questions.

After he was quite certain he was alone once more, Coil left his office through the back door to where his van and driver were waiting. The man who drove his van was unemployable in any other sector and, it was by giving the man, codenamed Creep, his socially unacceptable desires unobtainable almost nowhere else could he ensure his complete loyalty. It was another habit of Coils, paired with caution. Offer the carrot first, because everyone had a price. And Coil was capable of paying even the most depraved of prices.

The current back and forth driving between offices was a nuisance soon to be resolved with the completed construction of his new base; a hidden converted Endbringer shelter. Smack dab in the middle of the city, and nobody had the slightest clue it was even there. Another balance of caution, in the meticulous construction of such a base, and thrill in the satisfaction of having such a thing as his own. It was a first, he reckoned. Nobody else in the country owned such a base, Coil alone had the skill, the patience and the ability to make it happen.

Alas, the base wasn't fit to be moved in to for nearly a fortnight so Coil had to make do with spreading out his assets for the time being.

As the van pulled to a stoplight Coil dissolved his other reality, interrupting Thomas Calvert mid-stride. Another wave of goose pimples rippled over him in the fraction of a second it took him to split reality in twain once more. The time now, where his realities were so close together, was his most vulnerable. And staying vulnerable just wasn't cautious.

In one reality, Coil had himself driven away to a third location and, in the second he was driven to a nondescript lonesome building.

He took a moment to confirm the lack of watching eyes before entering and was greeted by the man he had stationed there, one Mr Pitter. A useful man by all accounts, one that could be trusted with the care of Coils greatest current acquisition.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Mr Pitter. All is well?"

Pitter adjusted his round-rimmed glasses in a serious gesture. "It is, sir. Nothing abnormal."

Coil nodded shortly and stepped past him, continuing on to the only room in the building with a heavily locking door. Pitter rushed forward and pulled a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking the three heavy locks with practised motions.

Inside the room on a bare military surplus cot lay a young girl in a white nightdress, staring at the roof with puffy, bloodshot eyes.

"Hello, pet."

The girl screwed her eyes up, mouth twisting.

"You know my questions."

There was a hitch in her voice as she replied, "zero point eight nine two per cent chance there's any problems in the next hour. One point seven three per cent chance of problems before lunch."

"Very good," Coil would have purred were it not an unseemly display of lack of control. "And what is the chance of Dark Smoke Puncher returning to Brockton Bay within the next three years?"

"Four point one six six per cent," the girl, Dinah, said pressing a hand into her eyes. "It hurts."

"Of course," Coil said, turning to Pitter. "Make sure she receives her candy when she asks."

At the mention of candy, Dinah sat half upright, watery eyes bright with want, but didn't say anything. She watched them with suspicious hope, hands balled into fists around the hem of her nightgown.

"I will, sir," Pitter said with a servile nod of the head.

Coil left. Four per cent… Acceptable for now. In his other reality, Coil reached his third office to begin the tedious running of his operation while the Coil in the current reality re-entered the van to be driven back to his civilian car and his civilian life.

Thomas Calvert would eat a healthy, hearty dinner, watch a new stand up comedy special and get a good nights sleep.

8th May 2011- Sveta

They had been playing Starcraft all day, though after the first few fumbling attempts at playing Sveta resigned herself to spectating. Tendrils you weren't even fully in control of weren't designed for real-time strategy games. Greg, however, had been dominating match after match after match of online opponents, an unbroken chain of victories; but they were just distractions. Greg had said he wanted to tell her something but was claiming he'd tell her after he lost. She didn't think it was like him to stall, so it must have been important.

Sveta knew she was lucky that few other residents wanted as much computer time as she did, leaving her free to selfishly hog her favourite machine in the common area. There were only a few others in, most reading quietly or watching television. A lot of people in the asylum preferred to stay in their rooms, a desire Sveta understood completely. Doctor Yamada had spent a full year attempting to get her to spend time in the common area, and Sveta was eternally grateful she had.

It was, however, getting late.

"Greg," she said, timid and halting. "I have to go back to my room soon, um, do you want to tell me what it is? Only if you want to though, you don't have to."

A short rush of harsh popping made her flinch, presumably as Greg sighed into his microphone.

"Right," he replied. "Well, the PRT is trying pretty hard to keep this out of the news, but you'll probably hear eventually. I killed Cricket."

Sveta gasped, tendrils roiling, grasping, pushing her up into the corner of the ceiling like they thought she was being attacked. She shouted, but the microphone was down there and her voice came out as a breathy, soft whine. She needed to tell him it was going to be ok.

"She attacked me, but it was really f*cked," his voice still reached her, faintly through the lowered volume she'd set the computer to. "You still there, Svets?"

If she didn't get control soon they'd remove her. She was already drawing attention. She needed to breathe, that's what she needed to do. Breathe. Count of four in, count of six out.Gregneeded her help.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, her tendrils relaxed. Whatever alien muscle structure moving them unclenching, jerkily lowering her back down. Sveta took another steadying breath then opened her eyes, which watered with bile smelling tears.

"I'm here for you, Greg," then, in a torrent. "I'm so, so sorry I didn't say anything right away I panicked and my tendrils freaked out and put me up against the ceiling. It's all going to be ok, I promise."

"Thanks. I know it'll be ok. I'm not in trouble for it or anything, but they're sending me away," the microphone popped again as Greg gave a laugh that came out as a bitter scoff. "You want some signed Alexandria merch?"

Sveta whined a whistling, reedy hum. "You can always talk to me about it."

"I know," he said. "I think I'll get over it, sort of. Did you have nightmares about it?"

"All the time."

"Yeah. I think it's kind of ruined music and Harry Potter for me."

Sveta sniffled, "your songs are so good, if you ever feel like making more I'll shill for you on Twitter."

"Thanks, Svets. Maybe one day, we'll see."

It wasn't right for these things to happen, it was unfair. It didn't need to happen. This should be in the honeymoon period for making music, he should be at the height of his obsession for it. Greg's obsessive hobby had changed every three or four months for as long as she'd known him, it wasn't time yet. He was supposed to be rambling on about obscure music theory he'd speed read a pirated pdf of and didn't really understand.

Her tears traced stinking black lines down her face. Her friend was suffering and there wasn't anything she could do about it, she was stuck in this stupid, worthless body that wasn't even human. She couldn't even leave the facility. She couldn't ever give him a hug.

Greg must have heard her muffled sobbing.

"Hey, it's alright. I'll be ok. They have a program for this apparently, it's not like I'm the first Ward to kill somebody."

"It's just not right," Sveta said quietly.

"Sorry I wasted your day making you watch me play games."

"I would have just watched LetsPlays anyway."

"Well, thanks for sticking around anyway. I need to go and give something to Armsmaster, so, thanks again, Svets."

"Bye, Greg."

She was so useless. There had to be something she could do to protect his smile.

12th May 2011- Savannah Hawthorne

Savannah worked, that was her thing. It was how Hero had done it, it was how Dragon did it and it was what her parents had drilled into her from the moment she could talk. The sky was the limit, they said, but you had to work for it.

Things outside of work were distractions, so you had to make logical arguments to keep parents happy. You weren't hanging out with friends, you were networking with other Wards. You weren't reading SciFi, you were looking for inspiration. You weren't messaging a boy you liked, you were using him as a go-between to get the ear of Armsmaster. You were always doing something else and none of it was ever enjoyable; an endless grind to make someone else happy.

Savannah was lucky, then, that Tinkering made her happy. Or at least distracted her from moping about not spending time with friends and living life. That with Tinkering there were always improvements to make was a habit she tried to incorporate into her own life, every advancement another step in throwing off her shackles and leaving home. Joining the Protectorate would be another shackle, but it would be one she chose and, with any luck, a less restrictive one. She understood that she wasn't immediately signed up, there would need to be a new contract drawn up; one in which she could get concessions. Not that she would leave the city, New York was where she wanted to be, but that she wouldn't have to deal with her parents again.

To her, it still seemed a little childish to need help with that once she was an adult but the thought of true independence unsettled her.

Other things unsettled her these days, both related. Greg had been attacked again and forced to kill. She didn't know what to do about it. These kinds of things had always seemed to be more 'out there' rather than immediate concerns to her. There was a lot to unpack with it all.

Greg had run afoul of a supervillain named Coil who had responded by framing him for releasing Empire Eighty-Eight identities. Savannah had heard vaguely about it before they had met, it was national news for a little while, but hadn't paid it much mind. It was an out-there problem. And again, after she'd met him she had a peripheral understanding of why he was in Boston, but again it was not her issue. Now though, that she had gotten to know him, it was a 'right here' problem. It was unlikely they would ever meet in person again, soon to be on other sides of the country, and that made her uneasy.

It was, for this reason, she worked now. She didn't like feeling uneasy, and especially didn't like not understanding exactly why she felt as such, and so she avoided the issue by working.

Her current project was to work out a way her thrusters could be utilised to fire blasts of energy. She wasn't sure if the committee would sign off on a weapon, but she wasn't making a weapon she was designing a shielding blast; wink.

Her flight suit currently had eight thrusters, one on each hand and foot, on each elbow and each shoulder, made efficient by the addition of an anti-grav panel running down its back. With her body artificially lightened so the thrusters could either save energy by being able to run on a lower setting or, push her to ludicrously faster speeds than she could achieve without. Her intent today was to get all eight thrusters to fire a wall of energy that could stop a bullet without disrupting her flight, and if it just so happened that she could also use them to fire a beam then that was also a win.

For anyone but a Tinker, it would have been tedious beyond compare. Building a replica thruster, adjusting the code, modifying the thruster output, simulating a test, repairing the thruster when the test knocked something loose; then repeating this many times over. It wasn't something she could do in an afternoon or even several afternoons. Builds like this were an involved process and unfortunately in the Protectorate Tinker schematics she had access to there was nothing to help her speed up the process as there had been with the anti-grav panelling. Multiple Tinkers were able to work with anti-grav so all she'd had to do was lift their designs and build it herself, but no Tinkers worked with her engine tech so she was the forerunner. She'd had some help, mainly from Dragon who saw fit to repay her for using her engine designs, and Dragon had obviously consulted with Armsmaster given the size and efficiency of the engine designs they gave back to her.

That had been the last help she'd gotten, though ithadhelped her produce the most sophisticated, efficient engine system yet and saved her years of time. Gone was the clunky turbine and in had come the sleek plasma emitter engine.

It was still unfortunately difficult to adjust and even she could only work for so long. Her scheduled three hours Tinker-time ended and personal flight time started.

It was by far her favourite time.

Savannah dashed to the change room and shimmied out of her casual clothes and shimmied into her flight suits underlayer. The strapping on of her flight suit was a much more involved process; it was like putting on a fighter jet.

The concept of her flight suit married power armour with aerodynamics, it was sturdy enough to tank most gunfire yet light enough to achieve flight. The downside of it all being crammed into a human-sized suit was there was no co*ckpit to neatly climb into. The armour came apart into six parts, the torso, the legs, the arms and the helmet and each needed to be manually attached. A well-practised jigsaw was still a jigsaw, putting it all together took time.

Attaching the torso and the helmet was always the first step. Housed in the helmet was her H.U.D supplemented by a basic AI which ran the start-up diagnostic to make sure she connected everything correctly and in the correct order.

It took the better part of half an hour to hook everything up and make sure it wouldn't come undone while she was flying. Servos whirred as her numerous flight stabilisers went through their motions to ensure none were sticking and a feeling of glorious weightlessness came over her as the anti-grav kicked in, picking her up off the floor to hover a few inches above it. Her thrusters hissed, glowing a bright electric blue, and she slowly flew forward. The H.U.D mapping out her surroundings with blue wire lines, showing safe flight paths, providing information on suit integrity and settings. The wall opened up for her to her flight pad and she floated forward to the middle.

The AI read her body language, something that had taken a good while to teach it, and ignited the engines. Her thrusters flared in a bright actinic flash, rocketing her off toward the sky. Savannah screamed, laughed, as the forces pressed against her. Even lessened by the anti-grav the feeling of pure acceleration still sent her giddy. It made every second spent in the lab worth it.

Her thrusters burned brighter still as she gained speed, curving in a wide arc around Longbeach and up toward Long Island. A slight adjustment of her posture sent her low, skimming over the tops of waves. Her radar highlighted a particularly big wave and her AI automatically adjusted her course to avoid ploughing through it. Savannah tilted, spiralling upward around the wave and continued to gain height until the lights of the buildings to her left were just dots on the big shadow of the land. Before long a big red wall appeared on her display, it was her limit. She wasn't supposed to go past it, and the Protectorate would be alerted if she did. Her AI started slowing her down and she came to a stop just before the wall.

There was… a burning feeling? In her chest, an uncomfortable, indescribable worry. She wanted to go past the wall.

Greg was past the wall. She wanted to go see him, it felt right too, to talk to him in person about his being attacked and his moving away. It hadn't been an issue beforehand, Brockton Bay wasn't far from New York and she was sure that if she asked a visit would have been allowed. Though she hadn't particularly cared to ask before all of this something had changed when he told her about Cricket. Usually, she didn't have much of a heart for things like that, she knew she was terrible about comforting even her team when they were upset; it had bothered her, but not much. Now though, looking back, she felt uneasy about how she was.

Being an only child with a half dozen solitary extracurriculars didn't engender itself to producing a likable personality and she'd never cared enough to fix it.

Savannah hung in the air before the wall, the red covering her entire field of vision, and waited.

13th May 2011- Tyrone Watts

Mouse Protector was late.

Though she wasn't Protectorate anymore she still spent time on joint patrols and was trusted enough to leave Wards to. As a teleporter, she was never late. Neither was she early. She could arrive precisely when she meant to.

It was weird, but Tyrone wasn't going to complain. He rubbed his tired eyes through the holes in his mask and yawned, sinking deeper still into the couch. Patrolling with Mouse Protector was usually kind of fun, and kind of exhausting; she was a master of talking without saying anything until you said something she could use to ridicule you mercilessly. It was her whole schtick with villains, especially the serious ones, but was less fun when it was you. She was usually better about it with Wards, but it wasn't something he minded skipping.

More time to chill out by himself, something that was lacking these days. The East Coast seemed to be going to sh*t all at once. In Portland the Dollhouse were going ballistic and retaliating after one of their capes was accidentally killed by the PRT, here in Boston Accord was going at it with the Teeth again, in Brockton, it was the Empire and the Azn Bad Boys, a series of minor happenings in some of the bigger cities all the way down to Miami where they'd just uncovered some previously unknown parahuman serial killer's huge burial grounds.

Insane. The world was insane. Murderous Nazi's trying to kill his friends, the Slaughterhouse Nine, Endbringers. Crazy. Leviathan was going to attack somewhere soon, too, so that was a city written off.
His parents used to tell him stories of what the world was like for them before the eighties. Things could still be bad, but the scale was less. The world was less depressing. They'd said that, even though they weren't alive at that point, the world wars hadn't had such a profoundly negative impact.

All he wanted was to sit on this couch and do nothing, to be insulated from the outside. And yet, by unfortunate habit, his mind wouldn't let him. He would picture those things in his imagination, turning the images around in his mind's eye to inspect for details that needed adding or to be taken away. His power needed that kind of focus, so his mind kept wanting to go down that route even with distasteful imagery. It was great for when he wanted to use his power to recreate hot girls he'd seen, but not for this.
Tyrone shuffled around until his pockets were no longer pulled tight against his leg and eased out his phone, opening the Discord app he used to talk Magic the Gathering and look at related memes. He flicked through images for a few minutes, occasionally smiling or exhaling sharply through his nose, then rubbed at his tired eyes again. He flicked over to his contacts and dialled Greg.

Greg picked up after four rings.

"Hey, buddy, what be the hippety haps?" Tyrone asked.

"Meh," said Greg. "The ushe. Armsmaster made everyone chip in to buy me a motorbike as a present, then I ate a bunch of maintenance and mechanics books and I've just been kind of sitting in the garage by myself fiddling with it."

"Well, that's nice of them."

Greg hadn't had much nice to say about his previous team, who had been a bunch of snobbish dicks.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What kind of bike?"

"One of the PRT second-hand ones, a Kawasaki Ninja," Greg sighed. "It was nice of them, it's a decent bike."

"Are there a lot of bike areas in LA?"

"Yeah, probably."

Tyrone frowned, paused. "Silver lining though, you get to work with Alexandria."

"Hmmm, yeah. Did I tell you she originally wanted me to transfer there when I came to Boston?"

"Nope."

The faint sounds of tools on metal echoed through the phone.

"Because of my obvious potential. Armsmaster thinks she wants to groom me for leadership somewhere, he has a hunch they want to snake me up the ladder in Las Vegas one day."

"You do have a good Thinker power."

Greg snorted and there was the sound of spanner hitting concrete, then a distant crash of breaking glass.

"It's what got me into this mess. It's too good. Or maybe I was too loose with it. I dunno."

"Nah, dude, you did the right thing. I'm pretty sure it's aiding and abetting if you know who a Villain's moles are and you don't tell anybody."

"Yeah," said Greg. "It's something like that."

Tyrone didn't know what else to say. What did you say for this? Sorry, a Nazi tried to kill you?

The big door to the Wards area opened up and Quartet, who had been brought in to replace Bastion, poked her head in.

"Change of plans, Reynard, you're on with me."

Saved by the bell.

"OK, I gotta go, man, my patrol partner's here. I'll talk to you later."

"No problem, broski."

"Peace out," Tyrone hung up, a scummy weight congealing in his belly.

"Quickly, please," said Quartet, in a way that was more telling than asking.

"Coming."

Tyrone flopped out of his warm, comfortable position and followed her out the door.

"Where's Mouse Protector?"

"Missing, apparently," replied Quartet, shrugging. The musical notes on her shoulders glinting mesmerisingly with the motion. "No one's heard from her in a few days, but, well, when you're an indie cape you get to pick your own holidays, eh?"

14th May 2011- Taylor Hebert

The city was devolving into chaos. Brockton Bay had always been a cesspit but the last weeks had seen it evolve into a throbbing stew of fear and hate and desperation. It bubbled over the edges of its pot, sizzling and burning down the sides until the blackened overflow spilled into everyday life.

For three city blocks around her, this seething filth poured into her heart in a torrent, but the gangs were starting to learn. They were decentralising. Anywhere there was a gathering of human scum was a beacon for her, but an individual person might have just been a piece of sh*t rather than a criminal piece of sh*t.

Taylor peddled her bicycle, stolen from an aforementioned criminal piece of sh*t, through the boiling sh*thole of Brockton Bay. Her power let her selectively remove herself from people's perceptions by essentially making them hallucinate that she wasn't there, allowing her to ride past them unnoticed. She was a ghost to them, something that haunted the wicked and dealt justice.

She was riding through Downtown, aimlessly, as usual, dodging foot traffic and weaving around cars, when an odd feeling of worry coming from deep underground. She peddled toward it, a few others coming into her range near it. They were beats she didn't recognise, and the location itself was more than strange. Why were there peopleunderthe city? And the way they were laid out, they weren't workers in a storm drain; not with those fears. They read like criminals. Experienced criminals.

Taylor opened them up as wide as she could without alerting them, fingering through their layers. The bitter taste of fear of being discovered for past war crimes wrung a disgusted sneer from her, but she didn't know what to make of it. Why were all these horrible specimens gathered underground? She continued riding until she was right on top of them, under some parking garage.

Should she open the floodgates and let them have it? Should she, for the first time in her cape career, call it into the authorities? Wait and monitor them to find out when best to strike?

Taylor didn't have the slightest clue as to who they might be. They were spaced out like they were inside some kind of large underground building, but that sounded stupid. Perhaps they had access to a parahuman who could shape earth who had created the space for them? Maybe they had found what was already there, a relic from Brockton's earlier days?

Taylor made to leave, but an irregular signal from underground caught her attention. It was someone just waking up, and their conscious signal wasnothinglike the others. Guilt, fear, yes the others had these too, but these were… fresher. Younger. Fewer layers, but…
Someone whose power was ruining their life. They didn't fear where they were, so they weren't a hostage. They were scared of eating? Throwing up and getting fat? This wasn't making a whole lot of sense. One of the most aggravating aspects of her power was that if she couldn't see her target it was hard to gauge when to use subtlety and when to slam them with everything she had. She continued peddling, deciding that this was something best looked into. Surely there would be city records of a great big underground space like that.

15th May 2011- Damien Veder

Damien lay in his uncomfortable, unfamiliar single bed in a Protectorate safe house. He hadn't been sleeping well this past week so it wasn't becoming uncommon for him to be awake far, far earlier than he was used to. The cheap clock on his bedside table informed him it was just past six-thirty but he'd already been awake for hours.

Brockton Bay was cursed. It had taken everything from him. His beard, lovingly cared for and shaved away by stress. His job, the engineering firm he and Veronica both worked at had gone under recently. His wife, his darling Veronica in a coma due to gang violence. His son, his baby Greg growing distant and quiet after repeated attempts on his life.

It was for the best they were leaving. Tomorrow both he and Greg would fly to Los Angeles, never to see this wretched city again, with Veronica being moved to the best hospital in LA the PRT could provide shortly thereafter.

Damien yawned and rolled over, facing the framed photograph of a vase of flowers dimly illuminated by the first slivers of dawn. He closed his gritty eyes.

His fitful half-sleep was cut by the ear-splitting wail of an air raid siren.

It was a complete f*cking no brainer.

Rain lashed the windows of the PRT Humvee as it pulled up in front of Brockton General, so thick and heavy that it completely obscured the outside from view. The chill seeped into the interior of the car, pushed by the same winds that made the rain a near-deafening rolling crash.

I couldn't hear myself think, the roaring rain so loud I couldn't even feel anything. No fear, no anger, just a background refrigerator hum of blank shock. Leviathan was here. Here in Brockton Bay.
A hand shook my shoulder. I turned, blinking in surprise at the PRT trooper in the driver's seat.

"You good to go, kid?"

His voice echoed oddly as the shape of the car interior imprinted itself onto my awareness, a feature of my Echolocation. I didn't bother to answer him, I just got out of the car.

I felt the wind pushing back as I opened the door, instantly hammering me with spray as soon as there was enough space for it to snake through. I slid out into the freezing rain, the cacophony a little disorienting to my enhanced ears, and hustled the few feet to the covered area near the front doors shaking off the little water I'd managed to accrue as it wicked off my uniform.

I glanced back out at the grey sheet of rain, swallowed, and headed inside. The automatic doors opened up for me and the already chill day managed to drop a few degrees with the air conditioning. The shivering nurse on reception pointed to the right, where I could hear worried, murmuring voices. I headed down the corridor, coming out into a larger waiting room packed with various medical staff all clustered into little groups and talking amongst themselves. A few looked up as I entered, but went back to either talking or staring blankly at a wall or the floor.

Only Amy sat unruffled, in her white robe with the scarf pulled off her face. She looked… fuller-figured than I remember her being a fortnight ago, but maybe it was just her robe bunching up in a flattering way. She waved me over, a lazy, confident gesture.
It was like walking in a dream, time stretching out as you go nowhere then snapping back disorientingly, that feeling of struggling against molasses. It was all in my head, it was just the stress.

"About time you showed up," Amy patted the empty chair next to her. "You ready for this wild ride?"

She was also high as a kite.

I didn't answer as I sat down.

"You will be," she smiled, expression rich and charismatic. "I was going to give you more of these tomorrow before you left but Leviathan is probably going to smash my warehouse."

Amy reached into her pocket and casually tossed me something that looked like a big fish oil tablet. I caught it easily, rolling it around between my fingers.

"Go ahead."

What did I have to lose? I tossed the pill back and forced it down. It tasted like strawberries.

"What now?" I asked.

"It'll take a little while to kick in," Amy slouched against me, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Then you'll wake up."

"So you're gonna wake me up?" I smiled weakly. "Wake me up inside?"

Amy frowned.

"Can't wake up? Never heard that one?"

"I think I heard part of it once when Vicky was going through one of her phases."

I leant against Amy, staring at my knees. "That sounds cute."

Her hug around my shoulders tightened, too hard to be naturally produced. I glanced an Observe at her protruding wrist… ah. Cool.

"It was. She would put on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner."

"I'm surprised it wasn't you who had that phase, but I guess you did end up smoking which is edgier, actually."

Amy snickered. "I quit, actually. Terribly unhealthy stuff. Gives you cancer, you know."

I scoffed, but it was more like a sob.

"There's less than twenty years until society collapses," I whispered, shivering, goosebumps pressing against the fabric of my uniform.

"Because of… Hmm," Amy relaxed her hug a little. "Yeah, that makes sense. Bummer."

Would the pill Amy gave me do that, wipe all of it away and just leave me with maximum chill? I hoped so. I really, really hoped so.

"Yeah," I echoed. "Bummer."

"Think of it like this," Amy said. "At least you can prepare for it and you'll get all the shock out of the way long in advance."

"I guess."

"Oh," Amy ruffled my damp hair with her free hand. "You. Everything will be ok soon, I promise."

"Thanks, Amy," I said, though I didn't really believe her. "I appreciate it."

She sighed, resting her head against my armoured shoulder. Her presence alleviated the curdling feeling in my blood a little, warded off the chill of the hospital air some, too. Her organic power armour was giving off a decent amount of heat. Wasn't she hot? Maybe it was something she'd done due to the depressing cold of the day, or maybe it was just externally hot and the layer against her skin was normal room temperature.

Woah.

I blinked, eyes flickering like a hummingbirds wing. A kick of something just shot through me, it was gaining momentum, building. I was flying. I was free.

The light in the aging fluorescents on the ceiling that seconds ago dull and grey was now white and pure, putting everything into perspective. The feeling of Amy leaning against me, already calming, magnified in that intensity. I took a deep breath, drinking in a whole new world.

"I'm awake. Kept you waiting, huh?"

"You're right on time," Amy let go of her hug around my shoulders, turning to face me properly. "Come to any good realisations yet?"

"Like how I'm a self-pitying twit whose biggest enemy is his own pride? Yeah, I'm thinking I'm good."

I stood up suddenly, we were wasting so much time. The mood in the room wasnotconducive to a productive Endbringer attack. The doom and gloom needed to be done away with, these people needed a figure to resonate with. I glanced around, studying faces. None of these people knew what to do. Sure, they had their orders and a vague idea of having skimmed over the Endbringer prep sheet the PRT sent out, but the room was devoid of vision. There was no bigger picture. The same ungodly amount of stress that I'd been feeling a minute ago was resonating throughout the room, everyone echoing back to each other the same anxiety and panic-clouded thoughts that set the bar at surviving until tomorrow.

They needed someone to start resonating hope.

I turned to Amy, offering a hand. "I'm going to start clearing the mood. Do you have a plan?"

Amy didn't take it, "I thought about dosing everyone with a weaker version to take the edge off of them, but the more I thought about it the less I liked the idea."

"What don't you like about it?" it sounded like a great idea. To calm everyone down so that I didn't have to, and give them a lasting resistance to the stress that the incoming tsunami of mangled bodies would be.

"I kind of want this to be anusthing."

I lowered my hand. "I can see the appeal. We'd be the heroes of the hour. I don't agree with it, but I understand."

To be honest with myself, I also really liked the idea.I'dbe the cool one everyone looked up to,I'dhave all the answers,I'dbe the alpha to everyone's beta. It was something I'd always wanted but could never understand how to get. Now though? I didn't need that. It seemed unimportant, like a small but welcome side effect of my mere existence.

However, taking the opportunity to aggrandise myself in the middle of an Endbringer attack wasn't a very nice thing to do. Still, I wasn't going to condemn Amy for it.

I smiled warmly. "I wouldn't worry about it, Ames. You're Panacea, you just being here should be enough for them. Anything you choose to do here today will be more than enough."

"What?" said Amy. "No. I meant that I don't trust any of these guys to keep their f*ckin' mouths shut. If this gets out too early I'll never hear the end of it; I already get enough c*nts begging me to fix them on the street. If I make them for the public it's going to be under a different name."

"Oh, I guess that was just me, then."

"That pride, huh?" Amy rolled her eyes patronisingly.

"Apparently," I sighed. "I need to do a bit more thinking. But first, the mood."

"Don't let me stop you."

I held out a hand again and this time she high-fived it. We smiled and I turned and left.

God that was f*cking embarrassing, I just projected all over Amy's face.

Well, can't mourn forever! The bodies would start piling up soon and we needed to be ready. I strode toward a man I recognised, the Chief Physician at the hospital, who was huddled in a corner with two senior doctors. All three of them clutched lukewarm cups of coffee and looked up as I drew closer.

I put on my serious face.

"Dan," I said firmly, nodding in greeting. Then to the others, "Patricia. Fernando."

"Dark Smoke Puncher," Dan said, mouth drawing into a tight line.

I mimicked his expression for a brief second. "I need a favour. One of my powers is that I learn quickly, but I don't have much experience beyond first-aid. Everyone in this room is better than me at this, I was hoping you could fill in the gaps for what I'll need to know."
"Ah… Well, I can. I can," Dan faltered, tightening his grip on his coffee. "How much do you know?"

"I've watched a few surgeries take place, mostly for gunshots and stab wounds, and I've read a couple of books."

"We'll be looking at trauma more in line with a traffic collision, and mostly we'll be working on stabilising until one of the Parahuman healers get to us," he took a long sip of his coffee. "Few that they are. God bless Panacea."

He, Patricia and Fernando raised their cups to her.

"I'll be able to do that, one of the surgeries I watched was a car accident. Is there anyone here who specialises in that I can talk to? Do you mind introducing us, I think it would go over better if it was you asking."

"Sure, I can-"

I turned, positioning myself like I was going to start walking in the direction he was looking. It worked, he started forward, getting us out of this cramped corner and into a more open section of the room. I let him take the lead, walking us to a suave looking guy with a scar over one eyebrow.

"Julian," said Dan. "This is Dark Smoke Puncher, he's after any last-minute advice we can give him."

I shook Julian's hand briefly. "I'd really appreciate it. I have a power that lets me learn quickly, but all of you have so much more experience."

Julian smiled thinly, complexion wan under the lighting and stress.

"I can certainly try, but I don't know how much a quick rundown is going to help," Julian licked his teeth, grimacing like he'd tasted something bitter. "Head, spine, internal, lost limbs… I don't want to scare you off; people are going to die under your care today. You need to be able to cope with that before anything else."

"If I can't, I'll help elsewhere. I also have a power that gives me a general idea of someone's state, so I'll know before I touch them what sort of injury."

"That's great, might save us a bit of time. Mostly we just need to keep them going until Panacea, did you tell him that bit, Dan?"

Dan nodded.

"Great," Julian licked his teeth again. "Keep them warm and staunch the bleeding, run through your A, B, C, D, E's in case you need to go further."

No, I knew all this. What I needed was to get the roomtogether. I needed everyone tellingmewhat to do so thattheywould all be reminded thattheyknew what to do. Show them that even though the reality was grim, they were prepared.

"I really do appreciate it," I smiled, thinly, softening from thin into something more encouraging. "This kind of stuff is invaluable. Is there anyone else we can get in on this? I want to tap as many brains as possible."

I gestured to the room at large with its shivering doctors and nurses waiting for the killing to start. If only I'd taken fire instead of lightning, I could be warming the place up.

Julian inhaled, the breath catching on phlegm in the back of his throat. He cleared it with a little cough, then turned to look over the crowd. "Alice," he called. "Tim. Could you come over here?"

Ok, yes. Better. I just needed to keep this momentum up.

"This, uh, Dark Smoke Puncher wants to pick your brains for anything to help with today."

"Don't worry," I said, punching a grim hand into the air with a puff of bright pink smoke. "It's just a name, I would love to hear anything you could tell me about saving lives."

Their eyes tracked the pink smoke as it curled into non-existence. Dan snorted and groaned, rubbing at his face, a genuine if gritted smile on his face.

And like that, I'd done it. Dan was in charge of the hospital, people looked to him for cues. He'd smiled, changed the tone. There was a ripple of ever so slight relaxation of tension in the shoulders of the people talking to us.

I mirrored his exact smile, taking on his posture. "You got a favourite colour, Dan?"

"Green."

I made jazz hands, green trailing off them, then cut it off to look at the floor. "Ah, I know it's not really the time for jokes."

"No," said Dan, straightening up a little. "It really is. I should have said red, to match the new coat of paint we're getting in here soon."

I carefully straightened my own back, glancing around at the faces of the others from behind my visor. Doctors and their gallows humour, huh? Perfect. How long would it have taken me to learn how to do this on my own? It all seemed so intuitive, yet it was anything but. What was really interesting was that this was something I would be able to all day every day, one day in the future once my stats were naturally there. It was something I very much looked forward to.

"Christ, Dan, you animal," Tim, the new doctor, scoffed. "Are you at least going to fill a bucket, or just paint with whichever of their legs come off first?"

This was definitely it, they were straight up vibing. People nearby were picking up on it, too, looking over with miserable interest. Everything was falling into place.

There was a crack, people screamed. New people had just appeared out of thin air, teleported in, bringing the sharp salty stench of seawater. I recognised Strider, a Rogue who worked Endbringer attacks at a discount, before he vanished back into nothing. He'd brought with him Victor and Othala, but they weren't important right now. The other person he'd brought was a Ward called Scapegoat. Those three, plus Amy and I, comprised of the entirety of the healer class capes the Protectorate could field at such short notice.

"It's started," Victor barked.

Everyone burst into motion, double-checking the supplies at hand, gripping gurney rails ready to ferry incoming casualties. I slid through the kicked ants hill the room had become, slipping into step next to Amy. I gripped her hand tight for a moment, feeling her squeeze in return, before letting go and parting ways.

The casualties started coming in pretty soon after that, each one broken or bloodied and screaming.

It was beyond lucky that Panacea gave me that pill, I didn't think I'd have been able to do anything useful otherwise.

Thick iron scented blood, up my arms, up my apron, up my face.

The reek of piss and sh*t.

Scalpels in my hands, stitches under my fingers. Patches pressed against wounds so deep I needed to conjure extra hands to keep everything from falling out.

Amy taking them off my hands when I couldn't do anything more.

Scapegoat handing me wounds minor enough that they wouldn't stop me.

Blinking away sweat and skill notifications.

My entire world; blood and piss and sh*t.

Time slipped by, hours passing in a red blur. Not all casualties were Capes, some of the civilian shelters had been broken into so there was no rest, especially not with the new golden band glinting on my right ring finger.

I opened my eyes, sitting up straight, and leant forward to touch the man on the gurney in front of me. He was an older man, balding scalp hanging on as a flap of skin, left arm and leg sitting at funny crooked angles. His breath came through in laboured pants, broken by grimaces of pain. I tapped him on the chest, activating the enchantment in my ring.

Instantly my entire pool of mana was consumed and the man covered by a soft golden glow; then he was whole again. It was like watching a movie cut, one second he was a wreck and the next he was blinking in surprise and trying to sit up. The nurse wheeling his gurney pushed him back down, smiled gratefully at me, then wheeled him away.

There was a line of people for me to do, but I sat back and closed my eyes. At base my mana regenerated at six per cent, meaning it would take somewhere near sixteen minutes for me to return to full. With my Meditation perk adding an extra per cent for every minute meditated it took considerably less than that, which was very lucky. Lay on Hands not only consumed all my mana to use but required my mana to be at full.

The meditation consumed me, breathing slowing and tension receding from my muscles. The countdown timer in the righthand corner of my vision read at two hours and thirteen minutes until the effects of the Panacea wore off. There was still so much more that I wanted to do, but I might have to cut all of it short anyway. Life was so short, and mine might end this very evening.

I was dawdling, I knew. Healing people meant I didn't have to get up and face the truth.

I would have to get up anyway, I couldn't stand not knowing. However, I had a few things I needed to take care of first.

I opened my eyes and stood up, apologising to the line, telling them I desperately needed a fifteen-minute break. I hoped they'd understand, I'd been working long past the point where I could have stopped for a break.

The hospital was still a crowded mess of bodies, the reek of blood and brine mingling with their body heat left the place stinking and humid even through the air conditioning. Overlapping conversations blurring into each other, magnified by my powers. I'd hoped taking the skills I'd gotten from killing Cricket would change how I felt about it, but it didn't, it only offered more emptiness.

I wound through the hospital, making my way to where I knew the out of town Wards were waiting to be sent back home. Strider, one of the best teleporters in the country, had been killed in the attack so getting everyone back to their cities was going to be a task and a half.

Weld saw me first. He was the only one to come in from Boston, thank god, as he was practically immortal. You could reduce the guy to a stump torso and all he'd need was some sheet metal and a fork to be right as rain again. He wasn't who I was here to see, but I wanted to talk to him anyway.

He stood up and walked over to me. We embraced, and thankfully the paint job Armsmaster gave my armour didn't stick to him.

"It's good to see you again, man," Weld said, taking a step back and giving me a look over. His eyes lingered on the dried blood splattered up my clothes, though I had cleaned my face some still crusted into my hairline. "You were in here the whole time?"

"I figured it would be where I was best," I glanced past him, catching sight of Savannah. "I'll catch up with you in a sec, I have three things I need to do first."

Weld looked over his shoulder, following my gaze. The golden lines down his face creasing as he smiled, "I getcha."

I wrapped him in another hug, then strode off with great purpose. Savannah's jet suit was grimy, white salt crusting and flaking off around the joins between plates and limbs. She had the lower faceplate down, exposing from her nose to chin. She looked up as I walked near, mouth dropping open in shock. I held out my arms and she leapt into them.

I staggered under the weight of her suit but held firm as I hugged her. It was the first time I'd seen her in person since Boston, and video chat just didn't do her justice.

"Hey," I said.

"Greg," she whispered, wrapping me in a crushing embrace.

"Savannah," I said softly, pulling back and placing a hand on her cheek. "I don't care if this is a terrible time for it. I don't care if I have to move soon, we can make it work. Ireallylike you, would you go out with me?"

Savannah's mouth twisted like she was going to cry. I could hear her heart hammering and she nodded vigorously.

I leant forward and kissed her.

Her lips were so soft.

I drew back, still holding her close as the Wards around us whistled and cheered. Both of us had big, dumb happy grins. Everything felt light and it like the only emotion I had was the colour pink. I took a half step back, equipping the rose and held it out to her.
It was picture perfect. A deep lush red in the petals and a vibrant green in the stem and leaves, with our names embossed in gold repeating around the petals rim.

Savannah sniffled loudly, taking the rose delicately and holding it up to her nose. She tried to say something but it came out as a choked up squeal and she sniffled again, leaning forward and headbutting me in the chin. It hurt a little bit, but I didn't say anything.
"I'll be right back," I said, pulling her in close and tight. "I have two really important things I need to do, then I'll be right back here with you."

"Ok," she said, breathy. "I'll wait for you."

I leant down and kissed her again, then stepped back fully. I gave her one last heartfelt smile, then turned invisible. I hoped this wasn't cruel, considering I might be walking to my death, but I felt I had to.

I turned away, dodging through the crowd again. Taylorhadbeen brought in, of that much I was sure, but I didn't know exactly where she was. I stole over to the reception terminal, silently blessing that the backup power for the hospital still held despite massive power outages throughout the city. I turned visible again, making the young guy at reception jump.

"Hey, sorry about that, I need to know where someone is. Scarecrow, she's an independent hero."

"Oh, yeah, ok," he turned to his computer and quickly typed out the name. "She's up on floor three, curtain sixteen twelve."

"Thank's a million, dude," I nodded at him seriously.

I couldn't see her straight away, I needed something to sweeten the pot. If she was still up in the curtains that means she was still injured critically enough that she couldn't move under her own power. I could help her there, but first I needed my mana back.
I scurried off to find a moderately quiet corner to recoup and plan.

"Excuse me, Scarecrow," I said, standing outside her curtain room which stood in a row of a dozen other little curtained off sections. "I'm with the medical team, may I come in?"

There was a pause, then a raspy, "yeah."

I slid through the curtain, making sure it was as closed as possible behind me, then faced her fully.

Taylor Hebert. Scarecrow. She was lying on a cot, both legs fully covered in bandages with red seeping through the thinner areas. Her once lustrous hair hung lank and greasy over her pillow, face hidden behind an unsettling hessian mask.

"I heard you helped a lot in search and rescue."

"I tried."

She didn't sit up or move to look at me, so I checked her clipboard. Two broken legs; shattered all the way down from femur to ankle. Years of rehab, if indeed she would ever walk properly again.

"We noticed, and we appreciate," I moved until I was standing within arms reach. "I'm here to fix your legs, and there's also something I'd like to talk about with you."

"Fine," she said, groggy from the painkillers.

I tapped her wrist, bathing her in gold, then stepped smartly back.

Taylor stretched, gasping in surprise. She propped herself up on her elbows and turned to face me.

"That feels… great. Thanks."

I smiled. "It's no problem, I owe you that much at least. I also owe you an apology."

As I said the words cold doubt and a little fear blossomed heavily in my belly even through the [Euphoria]. I had to clear this up, it was eating us both up inside.

"I'm so, so sorry that I spooked you at school. It was a sh*tty, horrible thing to do," I started to take off my visor. "I should have known better. I needed to tell you how sorry I am, I sincerely mean it."

I, Greg Veder, looked into her eyes and Taylor did nothing.

She lay there, propped up on one elbow, staring blankly at my bare face.

"I should have apologised earlier," I looked at the floor sheepishly. "But for a lot of it, I was out of town. You know, because the Empire keeps trying to kill me."

Silence.

"I know it's a lot to ask, and I don't expect you to, but can you accept my apology?"

Silence.

"Well," I fixed my visor back in place. "If you ever want to come and call me a dickhe*d or something, drop by the PRT-"

"You're Dark Smoke Puncher."

"Yeah."

"All this time,youwere Dark Smoke Puncher."

"I know," I kept eye contact with the linoleum. "It's a bit hard to believe, isn't it."

"And you knew I was Scarecrow."

"I didn't tell anyone, and, uh, I want to be transparent. Give you the full truth," I peeked back up. She was still lying frozen up on her elbow. "I knew since the moment you triggered in front of me on the first day of school this year."

"You," Taylorhissed."You ruined my-Ooh…"

"I know," I bowed my head in shame. "I'm genuinely sorry."

I could hear her heartbeat. It had been hammering hard and fast ever since I revealed myself to her, but now it was a hummingbird blur of sound.

"I'm dreaming," she whispered. "This isn't happening."

She continued mumbling to herself, telling herself that she wasn't crazy, that I wasn't Dark Smoke Puncher.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "If you ever want to talk about it you know where to find me. I gotta go now, there's something else I have to do."

She slumped back down, hugging herself under the thin hospital sheet. If I was still alive in an hour, I'd do something else to fix this.

I retreated from the curtain room and headed back downstairs.

I swallowed, steeling myself.

"Alexandria."

The legendary woman herself, Alexandria of the Triumvirate. Indestructible. Herculean. Genius. She turned in the air, purposefully, deliberately, away from the capes she was talking to and faced me.

"Dark Smoke Puncher," she spoke, even her very words as powerful and unyielding as she was. "I'd hoped we'd meet under better circ*mstances."

"Same."

"Was there something you wanted?"

"I need to speak with you, privately. It's urgent."

Her mouth quirked, somewhere between a frown and a smile. "I'm quite busy."

"I know, but," I forced myself to stare into the blank, unforgiving faceplate of her helmet. "It'sextremelyimportant."

A moment passed, a long, long moment. She knew. She had to. I was being transferred to her team, she'd read my file. She knew my Thinker rating, she knew what I was talking about.

"Very well."

She turned back to face her retinue of capes who were in charge of important things. "I'll be back shortly."

I drew in a long, shaky breath. This was it; it was time to die. Sorry, dad. Sorry, mum. Sorry, Savannah, Weld, Tyrone and Amy.

"Thank you, Alexandria."

I turned to walk us somewhere more private, but Alexandria lay a hand on my shoulder. It was like being touched by a teetering freight-liner on a fraying cable.

"Why don't we talk on the roof, nobody will be there," she smiled. "I'll fly us."

"Ok."

And so we walked out the front door. We walked out the front door, in front of everybody, and Alexandria openly, visibly, picked me up under the armpits with her big Truckasaurus hands. I hoped this was a good sign.

There was a rush of movement, a dizzying moment of no gravity, then my feet were gently touching down on the damp, salty roof.

I took a long, hasty step back. Alexandria floated; a human mountain.

"What was it you wanted to speak about?"

Through cotton dry lips and tongue I spoke my last words on this earth.

"I thought Cauldron was the inter-dimensional power mafia!Why is an alien going to blow up the planet?!"

"Because it is," Alexandria said. "You can relax, I'm not going to kill you."

"...you're not?"

"Heavens, no," Alexandria smiled, her feet touching down on the roof in a puddle. "I knew we were going to have this conversation, but I expected it would be in my office on the other side of the country."

"So, so what, then?" I pleaded. "Why is the planet going to blow up?"

"How much do you know?"

The question seeped into my skin like winter desolation. She was going to kill me, it was a classic line the villain asks to know how much they've been found out.

"Cauldron either creates or found the source of powers. You exist in multiple dimensions. Your 'Cauldron Capes' owe you favours. You made the Case Fifty Threes. You buy plans to rule over the apocalypse world from Accord. You're already in charge of America. Society is going to collapse in twenty years. The 'Entity' is going to blow up the planet."

Alexandria nodded along genially. "Mostly correct, though we don't seek to rule what's left of the world once this is through. There is context you've missed, however. Imagine you came across the source of superpowers, and at the same time discovered that something was going to kill every human being in existence at some point in the future; what do you do?"

"Try to stop it."

"And that," Alexandria said. "Is the purpose of Cauldron."

"But why are you the power mafia?"

"In the course of saving the world, we have had to take some utilitarian courses of action. However, we funnel them into the Protectorate. Cauldron Capes are more mentally stable than natural triggers."

"I've noticed," I said.

Alexandria smiled again. "This is why I wanted to get you on my team, you're going to be a brilliant asset. You're a one in a million stable natural trigger, and not only are you stable you have an extraordinary power. I've heard you want to join us in the Triumvirate someday?"

"I do. I know you started the Protectorate, and it's the only reason we're not a sh*thole like almost all the other countries, but… Couldn't you be less scummy about it all? Like, not screw over the Case Fifty Threes?"

"The Entity would kill us." Alexandria shook her head despairingly. "If it knew what we were doing, that day of the apocalypse would be in a year rather than fifty or a hundred."

"The Entity made superpowers, didn't it?"

"It is the source of natural triggers, yes. The situation is enormous beyond anything you've imagined. For Cauldron, if even a hundred people out of all possible Earth's survive, that is more than we hope for," Alexandria took a step forward, holding out her hand. Our eyes were level, I'd always thought she was taller. "I'm sorry you have to shoulder this burden, knowledge can be a curse. We would love to have you onboard."

I shook her hand. It felt like I was being mugged.

Alexandria regarded me for a moment. "We're not going to kill you, Greg. If we operated like that we would have collapsed into anarchy years ago. You may have forced things ahead of schedule, but you can't be blamed for having a strong Thinker power and a natural curiosity. You already knew most of this, and you're one of us, you deserve the truth."

"What would you have done if I blabbed?"

"We knew you weren't that kind of person, but," Alexandria held up a palm. "If you were going to, we would have placed you on an alternate Earth where you could do some good until you calmed down."

"Right."

"We want you on our side, Greg, we're not going to kill you for finding us out."

"Ok, just," I rubbed under my visor, pushing up into my eyes. "I have good friends who're Case Fifty Threes. I know you saved their lives on whatever Earth they were on, but they're suffering now."

Alexandria nodded approvingly. "Yes, and we don't dismiss that. It's the price for trillions of human lives."

"I don't know if I want to be a part of that."

"I understand. I know you'll keep doing the right thing even out of the Protectorate-"

"No, I mean," I bit at a thumbnail. "I'm not quitting, I just don't know if I want to be a part of Cauldron."

"Of course. So long as we're both working to help people, why should there be any issue?"

Alexandria was smiling, what I could see of her expression looked completely genuine. My Body Language skill was getting better, and it wasn't giving me any 'bullsh*t' signals. Her heart rate was steady, shoulders relaxed. As best I could tell Alexandria was telling the truth.

I doubted it was theentiretruth, but it was the truth nonetheless.

"And, of course," Alexandria continued. "You won't be telling anyone about the Entity. We would prefer you didn't speak about any of this to anyone, not even people in the know like Legend or Eidolon."

"Yeah, no, of course not," I crossed my arms, staring out over the city skyline. "I'm not an idiot. Can I not be sent to LA, either? Can I go to New York instead?"

"It can be easily arranged, Legend will be glad to have you. I think you would grow into a more capable leader under me, but it's your choice to make."

"Look, I don't want to get in your way," I uncrossed my arms and stood a little straighter. "I'm going to take your word for it, that Cauldron is a necessary evil. But it's f*cked, and I know a lot about the world is pretty f*cked and pretending it doesn't exist is retarded. I don't know if I want to join you guys at all, but maybe I will later after I've had a bit more of a think, y'know?"

"You have at least three years left in the Wards program, which I created, so you'll have plenty of time to come to a decision. If you ever want to help us save the world, don't hesitate to contact me."

She was telling the truth, but something was still wigging me out about all of this. A hunch. Everything she said added up, smoothed over details, filled in holes, but… I wasn't sure. It felt wrong, but maybe I was just too attached to the version of Cauldron that lived in my head, the one that I'd built up as the power mafia who'd whack me for looking at them funny. Alexandria was strong counter-evidence, she'd just fronted up the answers to the biggest conspiracy in the world because I asked. Plus, she was letting me go to New York.

God, I hoped this wasn't some kind of veiled hush-or-else bribe.

"I will, and thanks for being so transparent with me. I really expected you to just kill me," I chuckled painedly. "I thought Cauldron was evil for months, like, your plan was to wait for the Endbringers to trash civilisation so you could be kings of the heap."

"And yet you confronted me anyway?"

"I'm really high."

"As a courtesy for your service today," Alexandria frowned. "I'm going to choose to ignore that."

I felt that was a little unfair. She was corrupt as f*ck, being in charge of both the PRT and Protectorate in different identities and selling powers for favours, surely she could forgive a little Tinker-grade nootropic MDMA to get you through an Endbringer attack.

"Yes, Ma'am," I demurred.

"We have something called the Terminus Program," she continued, a little coldly. "Sooner or later people with natural triggers will become most of the population and we, as Parahumans in positions of power, need to set a good example. Would you trust your leaders if you found out they were getting high on the job?"

Secretly, depending on what drug it was and the context, I'd think it was kinda based. "No."

"You're already occupying space in the public eye as an entertainer, something we fully endorse. Consider what would happen if it got out you had a drug habit," Alexandria pointed an accusing finger, raising up off the ground to loom over me. "People would lose faith. Years of goodwill, lost. If you want to work up the ranks you need to be squeaky-"

She punctuated this with a jab of her finger that connected with my chest plate with the sound of a bullet hitting a shipping container.

"Clean. If you do something untoward itmustbe in the interest of saving the world. Today, it was understandable, but this will be the last time; you understand?"

I nodded, shamefaced. "I understand. I won't do it again."

"Thank you," she drew back, touching down on the roof again. "I would prefer not to get on your case, but you must understand how bad things really are. The world is ending and trillions upon trillions may die, you don't have time to be honking on your crack pipe."

"I'm sorry."

"You have a bright future, Dark Smoke Puncher. Your music alone could do as much as our entire propaganda machine per year, I wasn't exaggerating when I said you were a brilliant asset for humanity. Ignoring your personal power, you have the potential tounite,"Alexandria waved an arm over the broken skeleton of Brockton Bay. "To that end, you will have another song ready in time for the memorial in less than a week, then, you will stay in Brockton Bay for another three months before your transfer to New York goes through."

"Ok."

"Eyes are on you, Greg, don't let them down."

Alexandria stepped forward and I let her pick me up again. The feeling of being mugged still hadn't gone away. There was another jolting blur of motion and we were back in front of the hospital doors.

"Do us proud," Alexandria said before floating back inside.

I stood there for a moment longer.

Ok, so not dead. That was a plus. Cauldron wasn't evil, that was another plus. On the other hand, everyone was going to die which was a bit of a minus. Alexandria had never said they had a plan to win, or even that they could win. sh*tballs.

I walked back inside, into the stinking humid hospital, and bee-lined through back to my new girlfriend.

"Hey," I said.

Savannah looked up from where she was still admiring the magic rose, "hey."

"I have great news," I slid into the empty seat next to her. "So I was just talking to Alexandria and she said I could go to New York instead of LA!"

Savannah bopped me on the nose with the rose, "how the f*ck did you swing that sh*t?"

"I'm very influential, my Twitter account has atleastthirteen followers."

"Wellminehas, like, thirteen thousand," Savannah preened. "Are you really coming to New York just for me?"

"Yeah," I lay a hand on her gauntlet. "I have three more months here doing cleanup, then it's New York all the way. Do you like ice skating?"

"Iloveice skating!"

Thanks, Lily, you beautiful lesbian.

"Well, I've never been. D'you reckon you could show me how?"

Savannah hmm'd. "I think I can do that."

Sorry, mum. I should have done this before Alexandria. I tapped her shoulder, setting her aglow.

She was in a different hospital than Brockton General and was currently blocked off from a lot of the city by wrecked roads. Luckily for me, I was a genius and had invented a way to fly. Well, not fly exactly, it didn't solve the quest I had for that, more very assisted gliding.

I could make a sort of hang glider as a Mana Object, with a propeller at the nose, and given the ultralight nature of it let my [Grace] give it more staying power in the air. I had used it to glide from one hospital to the other, and I was going to start healing people here for a while after I was sure mum was ok.

The machines attached to her told me her heart rate was picking up, and indeed, she was starting to stir. I picked up her hand, dad wasn't here but I could do my best to comfort her.

She jerked and spluttered through the tube down her throat, eyes fluttering open.

Thank god.

"Mum, hey, it's Greg!"

She looked around in confusion and panic, weak arms reaching for her face. I gently held her down, tears sliding down my nose.

"It's ok, I'll take them out. Just relax."

Expertly I removed the various apparatus used to keep coma patients as healthy as possible. She retched a little as I slid the tube down her throat out, coughing as soon as it was out.

"Greg? What happened?"

Her voice was weak and raspy, eyes bleary.

"You got hit by a Tinker pain grenade, you've been in a coma. It's only been about two weeks," I said hastily, patting her hand. "I got the power to fix you, but um, Leviathan just attacked the Bay this morning so things are pretty hectic-"

My voice caught on the lump in my throat. The Panacea had worn off a little while ago. It was so not cash money.

"So I'm going to b-be busy for a while and they can't find dad! Dad's missing, he was in the PRT bunker but that cracked and now it's empty and they don't know where anybody who was in it is."

I wanted to tighten my grip on her hand, but that would shatter her bones to powder.

"They think he's alive, but they can't find him and I can't go looking 'cause there's so many people who need healing and oh f*ck, mum, I've missed you so much!"

20th May 2011- Victoria Dallon

A drizzle misted the memorial, exacerbating the sombre mood. It was a day still covered by the truce, though there weren't any villains in attendance which wasn't terribly surprising. Not that they weren't people who'd lost people too, but Victoria figured she wouldn't trust walking into a memorial where half the people hated your guts either.

Amy stood next to her on her right, freckly face sallow and drawn from the exhaustion of back to back days of healing Leviathan's casualties. Her sister had changed the past few months, becoming cheerier and a hell of a lot less high strung. Apparently, finally making a real friend was all it took, and as much as she bitched and moaned about Greg Victoria could tell Amy enjoyed his company.

Her mother, Carol, stood to her left with her dad, Mark. Both had been severely injured during the attack, but after her usual hemming and hawing about not doing brains Amy had healed them, and nothing had gone wrong despite her misgivings. Having her dad back helped a little, but nothing could truly help.

Next to her dad, her aunt and remaining cousin. Neil and Eric Pelham hadn't made it.

And finally, Dean lay in a cold morgue somewhere in the ruined city, and when he was finally buried she was sure he'd take a piece of her heart with him into the ground forever.

The mist of rain mixed with the tears running down her face as the moment of silence they were all sharing passed. Her cousin, her friends, Dean; all gone, like tears in the rain. She'd heard that somewhere and it was just repeating in her head. Tears in the rain. Tears in the rain. Gone, like tears in the rain.

Legend floated up onto the raised dais in front of the black marble obelisk that was coated with the names of the fallen. He said something about a song, but Victoria was still thinking about tears and rain.

It was just luck that she wasn't somebody else's tears right now. Leviathan had hit her, properly hit her, sent her flying into the concrete corner of a building. It wasthenthat her forcefield had cut out. A millisecond earlier…

Well, tears and rain.

Dark Smoke Puncher stepped up onto the stage beside Legend. Oh, right, he sang.

Greg's voice carried clearly over the crowd, though he held no microphone.

"Just, a song for friends we lost."

He took a moment to gather himself, then sang.

Victoria closed her eyes. It reminded her a little of a Bad Canary concert she and Dean had gone to, the one where he'd snuck in a flask and the buzz had just enhanced the feeling of her singing to awe-inspiring levels, then they'd gone back to the hotel room and it was just the most, most amazing- But instead of amazing it was gouging at the Dean shaped hole in her heart with a blunt knife.

Greg's voice cracked as he sang, the raw emotion of it scouring layers of pretence off the crowd. Beside her, Amy made a strangled noise and Victoria opened her eyes again, glancing at her, seeing her sister sobbing silently into her hands. It rippled through the gathering, the unseen masks of fully costumed capes coming off, a sea of shaking, brightly coloured shoulders.

Her breath hitched, caught in a sob that wouldn't give it back to her. She turned her face up to the grey sky, catching more of the light rain. Victoria felt something run out her nose and down over her lips but didn't move to wipe it off.
Snot in the rain didn't have such a good ring to it.

The song started to wind down. The lyrics were hopeful, in a depressing, bleak sort of way. Even if you lost everything, even if everyone had died but you; you just have to wake up the next day and keep trying so that maybe it would all be ok again one day. It was how she thought a lot of people would be feeling, right now after they'd all lost so much. And she certainly wasn't going to give up, New Wave or not there were always ways to help people.

The song finished, but nobody clapped. On stage, Greg turned away so he could lift his visor and wipe his eyes before turning back to the crowd and offering a small bow before walking offstage.

Victoria turned her eyes away from the grey sky to look at Amy; still crying. Her parents; trying to be strong. Her aunt and Crystal; holding each other.

Who was next? Was it her?

Flying was still amazing, at least there was that. At least she still had that.

Victoria spun, lurching nearly ninety degrees to her right into a serpentine corkscrew. Nobody would be able to see her from the city, dressed in dark clothes as she was this late at night, but she wasn't patrolling anyway; this was just to take her mind off of things.
Her flight tactics, outside specific versus ground ones, didn't see much use given the lack of villainous flyers. Sure, there was Purity, but attempting to dogfight her was a pointlessly stupid idea, which left her hours of reading up on and practising tactical fighter jet maneuvers somewhat to waste.

Victoria swooped and spun, barrel-rolled and weaved, scissored and yo-yo'd. She was just coming out of a downward defensive spiral when a dark shape loomed out of the night. Victoria decelerated, pulling out of the spiral and re-orienting herself facing the shape, slowly circling it. Her heart hammered in her chest as she raised her fists at the shape. It didn't match any of the flying capes she knew, this had wings and let off a low mechanical whirr of a propeller. A new Tinker? Endbringer attacks were rife with new triggers-

"Sorry."

The winged shape called out as they circled. A light appeared at its head, illuminating Greg attached to some kind of hang-glideresque contraption.

"Jesus," Victoria hissed, lowering her fists. "Start with the light next time."

"I would, but I'm trying to be stealthy. Could you catch me? I can't hover."

The light winked out as he changed direction toward her. The glider vanished into smoke and Greg smoothly dropped into her grasp, she held him out at arm's length.

"Ok, let me just… Don't move your feet or I'll fall," he said, smiling in a way that failed to be properly genuine.

His feet touched her sneakers and he swept them back, a sheet of blue solid smoke following their path. The smoke wrapped around her ankles, connecting the platform to her. She let him go and he stepped adroitly onto it, moving back out of her personal bubble.

"Thanks, I'll figure out how to properly fly one day soon."

Victoria nodded but didn't say anything. She saw that he got the message.

"Right," he said. "I saw you out and thought I'd say hello. Your moves are really impressive, you must have practised a lot."

"Yeah."

"Cool. Anyway, I was just scouting out the Merchants. They're starting to get too big, so I was going to dismantle them; I should get back to that. You're welcome to come join me if you're getting bored."

Victoria gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, but no."

"All good," Greg smiled back, turning to leave. "I'll see you 'round, yeah?"

"I might be joining the Wards, so, probably."

"Awesome. Fly safe."

He leapt off the thin blue platform, which dissolved, into a jump that was easily fifty feet and created his glider again. Victoria watched him fly off against the moonlit clouds. Maybe if there were another time he was patrolling, but not tonight. She didn't want to think about anything tonight but flying.

21st May 2011- Alice Arai

It was good to be the king.

Sure, Lung was still technically in charge, but he was still doing his whole depressive, morose sh*t. Apparently, Leviathan made the guy sad.

Alice looked out over her domain, currently an abandoned movie theatre, as it crawled with her subjects. The chucklef*cks had just turned up out of some PRT bunker and delivered themselves right into her hands right at the juncture of a critical manpower shortage. Un-f*cking-believably good luck.

She didn't see them as people anymore, just a series of floating targeting reticles in a red-tinted world. God, it was beautiful.

One of the reticles, one with big eyebrows, glanced up at her and she pointed threateningly at him. He cowered and went back to work.

Alice chuckled. This trulywasthe best life.

It was all coming together, she could finally stretch her f*cking legs and do something beyond managing Lung's little fief. The disarray of the Endbringer attack left so many tantalising openings. The pigs were running around in the muck like retards and word on the street was the Empire was in the process of splintering; the two biggest gangs in the city, f*cked. That was where she came in. Aggressive expansion. Unchecked terror. Pan-Asian was too small a target, why not let whitey in? Everyone could be bomb collared equally, some real pinko sh*t.

Her bombs were their bombs, so long as they were inside their skulls.

Couldn't see the 'bigger picture', her ass. f*ck you, Professor Corrigan.

Even as she stood there, Lee was planting a series of bombs around the city and would continue to do so as she made more. Let them see how big picture holding an entire city hostage was. She'd done the math, there was a threshold of what you could get away with as a villain before getting iced. A certain number of people, where if you killed under it or did it over a long period of time, the pigs wouldn't go out of their way to Birdcage you.

Absolutely f*cking ridiculous. If it was her in charge she'd publically flense anyone who broke one of her rules rather than let them keep breaking them so long as they didn't make too much noise doing it. Moronic is what it was. It just encouraged people to go against you, emboldening them when you did nothing. f*cking idiots, but hey, it was working great for her. No point in correcting other's faults if they benefited her.

Being in charge mitigated the disappointment of the lack of challenge. It wasn't terribly fun if all her enemies never progressed mentally beyond age ten, she wouldn't get any cred from showing them up. Nobody cared if retards feared you, they were retards who didn't know any better. As an interim step, if she could get Armsmaster to kneel and surrender his halberd to her, then that would suffice before she hit a proper target.

The months of effort, all that iron pumped and the endless hours of cardio. Now I could quit and dedicate myself properly to my eleven-hour patrol/eleven-hour healing split shift, which I absolutely wanted to be doing of course. Smile for the f*ckin' cameras, you're Dark Smoke Puncher: Miracle Healing Cape! You wanted it, wouldn't have taken the f*ckin' perks otherwise.

It was also partly my insurance. If I could jack up my popularity so high that removing me would be more trouble than it would be worth they might just consider not doing it, and when I met one of Cauldron next I would hopefully have figured out how to read minds. The combination of these two factors should hopefully save my life. It was a bit of a bummer that I had to take Mind, there was an attractive looking Automatic Dodging perk in the Dexterity tree I wanted to take, but I needed to play the long game.

Alexandriasaidthey weren't going to kill me, and yet, trust but verify. Or I suppose it was verify then trust in this case. I still wasn't sure if I was being paranoid or not.

Information superiority was key, I didn't know what kind of parahumans they fielded and with whatever access they had to the source it could only be assumed: whatever kind they wanted. If it were me I'd be up to the gills in precogs and Thinkers, kind of like WEDGDG…

sh*t. I was just a rat in their cage.

I exhaled heavily, staring at myself in the gym mirror. Fine, whatever. Fine. There are things in life I couldn't control, rather than waste time worrying about them I had to focus on what I could. In time, my circle of influence would expand as I myself became more competent and I would be equipped to deal with this. It would happen. Just had to be calm.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I spat on the mirror and stood up, kicking a weight bench across the room into a rack of plates on my way out.

Calm my ass. This city needed to be f*cking calm, with absurd crime rates. I look around and I just see stupid, quit joining the f*cking Merchants! They're the f*cking AIDS of gangs! You'd be better off joining the ABB, who've apparently stepped up their slavery operation to include everyone they can stuff a bomb into. But hey, silver lining, Kaiseralmostdied and we have three different Nazi factions vying to see who can commit the most hate crimes, with the winner presumably being in charge.

I stalked to the change rooms, took a quick shower, and changed into my uniform. I could hear someone moving around in the Wards common area, wincing every so often. I closed my eyes for a long moment, then entered.

Missy sat at the kitchenette bench, gripping a can of Wards Sponsored Diet Sprite in her good hand. Her other bandaged clumsily into a mitten shape. How had that dumb bitch gone and done that?

"Missy," I said, bustling forward in a matronly fashion. "Your hand! Let me have a look, I'll fix you up."

She didn't look up from her can.

"Thanks, Greg."

I gently unwrapped the huge wad of bandage, exposing two broken fingers. For a moment I was tempted to yank on them, hopefully instilling the lesson that she should just stick to console. Just for a moment though, the urge soon subsided.

I cast Mending, the only healing spell I'd figured out. It was a touch-based spell that increased the healing rate of the recipient in a localised area, which was mostly good until you realised bones could heal crooked and flesh could scar worse if you didn't treat them correctly. It meant I couldn't just tap and go, I had to go through the process like I normally would. But it did synergise extremely well with my Surgery skills, which also boosted a patients healing rate, and was getting a colossal workout this past week from constant use on the endless series of patients coming in, so healing her fingers didn't take too long.

I didn't have anything to reduce the pain, however, so she got to experience the uniquely uncomfortable feeling of her bones fixing in the space of a minute. I could have fixed her completely in a second with my ring, but I figured I should save it for emergencies and Missy's broken fingers just didn't make the cut.

"All done. Remember, you can call me any time if you get hurt and I'll be right there," I smiled, taking the seat next to her.

"Yeah, I will," she said, avoiding my eye. "Thanks."

I gave her another smile, which I hoped didn't make my gritted teeth too apparent and reached out into her mind-

-and it was just noise, like a hundred televisions blaring over each other in a borderline incomprehensible cacophony; just like every other time I'd tried. It was all just noise that didn't make any sense. Yet, anyway.

I rapped my knuckles twice on the countertop. "Well, I'm off. Catch you later, Missy."

She smiled tightly, glancing at my elbow. "Bye. Good luck."

What the f*ck was her problem? All their problems. They were all back to treating me like this, but I was better now. I was pretty sure that was it, I was too much better than them and they hated it. I was making them all redundant, and would only continue to do so harder as the weeks went by. I was sure there were also some elements of them being weirded out by my facade of a perfect Ward, but f*ck them. I was allowed to pretend I was happy. I had my mum back where I thought I might never, so I actually had some reason to be happy.

I wouldn't mope around. I refused to. I had tocontinue upwards,wherever that might lead.

I internally seethed across the room and out the door.

Skidmark, as it turned out, was smart. You'd think he'd be the kind of villain you could hammer out in an afternoon, but no. I'd been at it for three days so far, and I had powers. Bloody slippery f*cker.

"Eh, mang," I projected my voice into my clone, making it scratch at the meth sores on its neck. "M'here to see Jerry. He said he'd be here."

The guy at the door hid a grimace at the stink wafting off of me.

"You're sh*tting me, right? You know Jer?"

"I met Eyepatch Stan the other night, hey," I sniffed, wiped my clone's nose, and it glanced down the street. "He said come see Jerry here, he knows me, man."

"Right, what's your name?"

"Mikey."

He shut the door in my face and I heard the sound of his footsteps retreating. I put an ear to the door and closed my eyes. Footsteps echoed off the walls and ceiling, painting a picture in my brain of a long hallway with a room on the left. The voices from inside the room bounced back to me, three men in the room. They spoke, the words faintly recognisable.

I stepped back, waiting until the door opened again.

"In."

I followed the guy, Frank, into the house. In stark contrast to the draining humidity outside, inside it was cool, the hum of a portable air conditioner providing sweet relief. I slunk in after my clone, keeping the control thread low to the ground. The men in the room were average looking, in short sleeve buttoning shirts and khakis; people within actual Merchant ranks.

It was interesting to see just how sophisticated the set up was behind the smoke and mirrors of Skidmark and his rotten teeth. The set up was degenerating, true, but before Leviathan had demolished the bay Skidmark had quite the little hidden kingdom set up. Only a few could actually contact Skidmark himself, and they were hidden behind layers of lower-level dealers and contract criminals. If I couldn't cheat by being the nightmare combination of Thinker and Stranger it probably would have taken me weeks to get to this point.

The oldest of the men in the room, Jerry, didn't bother to stand or even hide his disgust.

"Out with it, then," he barked.

"What about the gear, though," I snivelled. "Don't back out on givin' me my f*ckin' gear."

Jerry snorted and waved at Frank who headed over to a safe sitting on a side table to spin in the combination which I memorised.

"Aw, bro," I said, making my clone wipe it's nose again. "Thanks, bro. I was hiding when I heard it, what I told Stan last night. See, I was at Moneros and I heard some brass sayin' they knew some sh*t and-"

I could see his eyes start to glaze over as I went into a rambling story full of minor inconsistencies and irrelevant factoids detailing that the police might know where Mush's safe house was.

"-and if you don't believe me, give him a call, man."

I moved behind Jerry who sighed and pulled out his phone, one just new enough to need a pass-code which he tapped in, and flicked through his contacts. I forced a smile over his shoulder.

He confirmed my story was absolute bullsh*t, then kicked my skinny, smelly clone out the door without even giving him the drugs and shut the door, leaving me still inside. From memory, I walked the clone to where it could sit and disconnected the cord.

My feet were utterly silent as I walked back into the room, hidden behind Cuttlefish Skin and Hidden Movement.

"-s that dickhe*d thinking, sending us that tweaker?"

"No idea, Jer. Think we might have to demote him?"

"Definitely," Jerry said as I stole in behind him again. "Damn idiot."

He shook his head and went back to his spreadsheets.

Delicately I eased a finger into his pants pocket, inventorying his phone, then slipped back out into the hall and quietly out the door. I reconnected with my clone, walking it into an alley where I could dismiss it, then ran up the alley wall and hopped onto the adjacent roof and took off.

My heart didn't pound, I wasn't excited or even worked up. I thought I should have been, but this felt like doing paperwork. Mindnumbing.

I dropped off the rooftops a few blocks away, landing softly in front of Armsmaster and dropped my invisibility.

I didn't really want to go out without it these days, Coil had snipers.

The suspension on his bike flexed silently as he swung his leg over and dismounted. I tossed the phone to him and he connected it to a lead coming out of his wrist.

"Password's One Zero Seven Seven."

"Well done, well done…" Armsmaster muttered, distracted as his suit downloaded everything on the phone. "Damn shame you're leaving, we make a good team."

"There's still nearly three months, which gang do you want to knock off next?"

Armsmaster chuckled, focusing his gaze on me. "You really are wasted in the Wards. I was almost demoted, you know, but between my nano-thorns up Leviathan's ass and this? They might even give me a raise."

"You could phrase that less like I'm your promotion ticket."

He grinned at me, shark-like. "Mutually beneficial. I still have connections, and there's an internal program, nomination only, to groom the next line of Protectorate leaders; it'll be your in-road to the Triumvirate. The originals are getting old, even I'm going to have to retire to a backline position within the next ten or twenty years. You interested in the title of Youngest Protectorate Team Leader?"

That must have been what Alexandria was talking about.

"I might as well be."

"Ah," Armsmaster's grin slid off his face and he stepped in to put a hand on my shoulder. "Chin up, eh? We'll find him, and in the meantime, we'll do what we do best."

"I think the ABB has him."

Armsmaster nodded, "it's probable. And if they do, the first thing we'll do is take them out. I promise."

"And why couldn't we have done that ages ago and saved ourselves the trouble?"

"Regs," Armsmaster gave my shoulder a squeeze and removed his hand. "Bloody regs. But it's all come crashing down now, hasn't it?"

He smiled, somehow even more predatory than before.

"Wards on extended combat shifts, unsanctioned operations, paperwork ignored; we're finally in the perfect spot toget things going. You might think I'm being selfish or opportunistic, but think about how much more I can do for this city being in charge rather than just being another one of Myrddin's f*cking lackeys."

I grunted.

"I know it's hard, this post-Leviathan sh*t, but it'll all be worth it soon," he tossed me the burner phone. "Inventory that until we can destroy it. We gottem'."

After a few hours of stakeout, he arrived. Adam Mustain, aka. Skidmark.

I broke cover, flitting invisibly across the street and slipping in after him before he shut the door on his safehouse. Inside the first door was another door, this one locked with a keypad and heavy bolts. I wrinkled my nose as the rancid smell of his sweat mixed with cigarettes and other rotten things wafted over me.

I made sure to step away as I followed him into the main room, but the smell wasn't great in here either. The place was a sty; mouldy pizza boxes stacked in one corner, a carpet the colour and texture of an ashtray, a grimy toilet just visible behind a side door and all hotboxed by the boarded-up windows.

Skidmark made for the toilet and I took a moment to snoop around, picking through cupboards and listening for hollowed-out walls. A bad side effect of enhanced hearing was that I had to listen in to Skidmark dropping a fat log into the sh*tter through the toilet door he hadn't bothered to properly close, which further intensified the stench. I held my breath and wandered into the other rooms.

One tiny room had a desk and a laptop, which Armsmaster would no doubt be all over in a few minutes, and then there was just a dilapidated shower room and the bedroom.

The bedroom somehow smelled even worse than the toilet and may as well have been an ashtray given the number of butts littering the floor. How could somebody live like this? A big stack of unwashed dishes, sure, but this? High Intelligence apparently wasn't a predictor of cleanliness.

I picked through the bedroom, grimacing at the big purple dild* in the bedside table drawer, turning my nose up at the stained underpants beneath the bed itself. It was a little amazing that he'd managed to run even the pathetic gang the Merchants had been before Leviathan, let alone grow it as he had afterwards. Maybe that was the point of his being 'Skidmark' though, even if his Observe bio didn't explicitly say so.

I lightly tapped the walls, keeping one ear out for Skidmark who had just flushed the toilet and was flopping down on the ratty couch. Good. I'd just heard something interesting, an empty space behind a framed Metallica poster. Best to make sure I wasn't interrupted.
I padded back out to Skidmark and tapped a finger to his head.

Paralysis Collar.

He went limp, the blue collar around his neck glowing faintly with the colour of my electricity. I gently turned him so he was face down against the armrest and went back into the bedroom.

The poster wasn't trapped, so I slid it off its hook, revealing a quite expensive biometric tinkertech safe. Observe indicated that this wasn't trapped either and would take even a plasma cutter without breaking open. I inventoried it, heading back out to Skidmark.

Screw Armsmaster, he wanted my help for illegal operations? Well, this was my price.

I lifted Skidmarks hand up, taking the safe out and balancing it in my other hand, slotting his thumb into the scanner. After a few seconds, a light went green and it clicked open. I dropped his hand and turned the safe to face me, flicking it open. Inside there was a single black metal briefcase, the kind you'd use to carry medical samples. I took it out and undid the latches.

Inside, five vials of coloured, metallic liquid lay nestled in velvet settings.

Dead alien. My heroes, my idols, got their powers from slurping dead alien. Actually, no, that didn't really bother me; if my choices were let the world descend into chaos or sip alien juice to save it, I'd butt-chug as much as I possibly could.

I'd look over this more thoroughly later though, then trade it back to Cauldron for good boy points.

I glanced over at Skidmark appraisingly, this couldn't have come cheap. It would have propelled the Merchants way up the ladder, making them an actual threat. He must have been planning something like this for some time and found the opportune moment amidst the post-Leviathan chaos to make a break for the top.

What a dirty piece of sh*t.

I closed the case and inventoried it, along with the safe, then slipped back out of the safehouse to the stakeout position. A few minutes later a familiar engine rumbling vibrated in from the distance, growing louder until Armsmaster rounded the intersection up the street and trundled toward me.

I stepped up to meet him, still invisible.

"Good evening, citizen," he smirked, idling at the curb. "I take it you have a helpful anonymous tip for me?"

"Should ya really be so happy?" I asked. "We broke a ton of laws for this, he might get off in court."

Armsmaster swung his leg off the bike, which stayed up sans kickstand. "He won't. Trust me."

He headed off across the road, "he's going to spend months rotting before he even gets to see a lawyer, and something tells me he's going to become rowdy and I'll have to sedate him. Unfortunately, a side effect of the sedative is mild amnesia," Armsmaster shrugged, faux-helpless, as he entered the safehouse as the picture of confidence. "It couldn't be helped."

"The place is clean, of cameras anyway," I said stepping in after him. "And he didn't have any spotters I could see."

"Wonderful," Armsmaster replied, breathing through his mouth at the smell. "Cut the collar."

The Paralysis Collar around Skidmark's neck dissolved into smoke and he screamed bloody murder.

"f*ck me dead! f*cking c*nt!" he scrabbled upright, startling at the sight of Armsmaster and almost falling over the back of the couch. "Aw, f*ck!"

His voice shook, almost like he was crying. Well, I suppose being trapped in your unmoving body by an unseen assailant who stole millions worth of power vials was pretty upsetting, but he deserved it.

Armsmaster reached out lazily and gripped him by his ratty shirt collar.

"Skidmark, you're under arrest."

Skidmark froze in his grip, sweat dripping down his face, bloodshot eyes wide. He licked his chapped lips in a furtive motion, "lawyer, bitc-"

Armsmaster popped him in the neck with the sedative and Skidmark went limp. "Can you believe this guy?" he turned to me, baring his teeth. "Attacking an arresting officer."

"Don't you have video evidence," I gestured to Armsmaster's helmet, wherein his ultra hi-def camera constantly took footage. "He's gonna get let off."

"I'm not required to either take footage or show it. If I were we'd all be equipped with cameras, and wouldn't that be a hassle."

"What're you going to do if I dob you in?"

Armsmaster considered me for a moment. "As a hypothetical? Nothing. You'd be right to, but we both know neither of us believes that this job is about procedural correctness in the execution of unquestionable moral authority."

I suppose I had done some crimey sh*t, like being blackmailed by Accord into letting his moles operate unhindered. And getting Sophia sent to Eagleton for not wanting to go out with me. And almost murdering that Empire guy and not telling anyone.

"Fair," I said.

Armsmaster slung Skidmark over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "We protect each other. Now, come on, let's go get Squealer."

The Cauldron Vials were all low end, unlikely to produce a power over the PRT classification of four and could vary greatly depending on certain circ*mstances. Skidmark had purchased the means to have a Tinker, of electronics, electrical systems and batteries. A Thinker, of some kind of low-end pre-cog. A classic Brute, a laser Blaster and a minion Master. All in all, a decent spread and that was all well and good, but the extensive paperwork that came with the vials brought up some worrying concerns.

I could understand Case Fifty Threes as existing by themselves, they were saved from certain death and the mutations weren't intended. What I couldn't condone was wiping their memories and releasing them into a life of miserable confusion and discrimination. And what I certainly couldn't condone, if I was understanding things right, was the Nemesis Program.

Case Fifty Threes were beingbrainwashedinto villains to give heroes career-boosting wins. Or as was to be in Skidmark's case, villains to give villains career-boosting wins.

All actions must further saving the world, my ass. Squeaky clean, my dick.

I pushed the train of thought aside as the door to the Wards area opened. We, the four current surviving (minus Brad as Browbeat, who was going to either quit or move away,) Brockton Wards, sat in wait for a most wondrous occurrence. Weld was our new team leader! It was a bittersweet feeling, having come at the expense of Carlos' death to Leviathan.

I'd made sure everyone was all healed and pristine for his arrival, no bloody bandages or exhaustion here.

He stepped through the door and I rushed forward, tackling him in a hug that nearly took him off his feet.

"sh*t!" Weld cursed under his breath, catching the edge of the door to stay standing. "Greg, dude, it's good to see you again, too."

"f*ckin' good to have you here, bro!" I slapped him on the back a few times before letting go.

He grinned at me, then turned to the rest. "Glad to see you're all looking well. I'm Weld, and I'm going to be the new team leader. I'm sure I'll get into the groove soon enough and show you guys that I'm the kind of leader an excellent team like this deserves. Now, I was talking with your director about special training-"

"You're sh*tting me."

I turned slowly to Dennis, unblinking.

"Have you seen what it's like out there? You haven't gone out and dealt with the f*cking crazy and you want us to do f*ckingtraining-"

"Dennis," I said calmly. "I would appreciate it if you never spoke to Weld like that again."

Weld glanced at me, mouth open slightly, then back to Dennis who sat fuming in the big computer chair in front of the Console.

"He's conflicted because I cured his dad's cancer, but he doesn't like me," I whispered to him. "And he knows he should shut up because I'm doing two or three times as much work as him, so anything he says will just come off as whiny."

Weld glanced back to me but didn't say anything.

"Right," he continued uncertainly. "I would like us to get to the training, it's one of my favourite special occasions but it doesn't have to be… right now if…"

He glanced back at me.

"People aren't in the mood for it. I know there's a lot of work to be done but I'll be here if anybody needs anything, and, uh, I'd like to get to know you all better, of course. I'm happy to chat about anything and get up to speed on everyone's situations."

He smiled at the group and I nodded encouragingly along with him. Nobody moved, not even Chris.

"We're getting reinforcements, too. Flechette from New York, a friend of mine and a very capable fighter, which I'm sure we'll all appreciate."

"Flechette is great," I chimed in. "You'll love her. And the extra training was some of the best fun I had in Boston, I think you guys should consider it."

Chris shrugged, Missy wiped her nose.

"We'll talk about it in a month or two, anyway," Weld said hurriedly, holding up his hands. "But I can see everyone has things to be getting on with. I'll be right here getting up to speed, in case anyone needs me, but otherwise, let's just keep doing what we were doing."

"Sure thing, boss," Dennis said snidely.

I narrowed my eyes at him and he responded with a withing glare before stalking from the room, jamming his helmet back on. Missy dithered for a moment before fleeing back to her room. Chris shrugged again, in a kind way, then busied himself with the console.

"What the," Weld lowered his voice. "f*ck, man?"

I rolled my eyes and gave him a knowing smile. "They think I'm a condescending douche. I apologised to them for that, but now they think I'm using my powers to be disingenuous, which is only half true."

I led him over to the kitchenette bench.

"Of course, everyone isn't taking the whole 'Leviathan' thing very well, and the long hours don't help, plus all the violence and looting."

"Yeah. I saw some of that on my way in, and your director filled me in. Apparently, you're my best asset."

"Is it condescending if you really are the best?" I flashed him a self-deprecating grin, which he didn't return.

"I know this is hard on you, too," he eventually said. "I was told you haven't been taking your breaks like you should be, and that for legal reasons I had to tell you to. But, dude, you look like you're at the end of your tether."

"Oh, my mistake."

I ran a hand through my hair, apparently someone wasn't doing his f*cking job properly.

I'm tired.

We've been up for six f*cking days, of course we're all tired.

Fine.

"Don't do that," said Weld. "Stop putting it on."

"Where else should I put it?"

Weld screwed his face up. "Away? Anywhere but on."

"Ok," I said, appropriately chagrined for the situation. "I promise. I'll take my break today."

He obviously didn't believe me despite my Acting being over thirty, but that may have been more a consequence of him knowing I had that power rather than my acting being poor.

"Thanks," he sighed, then picked up the files he'd been carrying with him and flopped them around. "Do you mind helping me get up to speed? Fill in any gaps these don't cover?"

"I can do a bit, but I need to get back to the hospital soon," I waggled my fingers, green healing energy drifting off them in streams. "Lotsa hurt people to fix."

"No, right, of course."

I gently eased the giant chunk of metal out of the gut of the unconscious woman on the medical table in front of me. The wound immediately began to ooze blood, which I dabbed with a piece of gauze as my levitating mana needle and thread probed into the gash.

Blood. I wasn't completely sure if I'd gotten over it, or if I was just used to the stress of it and could work through it. That had been a pretty f*cked day when the blood thing started, months and months ago, where I'd almost died to Amy's monster. I wasn't sure what either of us was thinking, me for making her go through with that and her for making something so strong. Actually, thinking about it like that it sort of seemed like maybe she was trying to kill me to get me out of her life, then chickened out and saved me. Or perhaps it was more a subconscious thing, but either way, I must have been pretty horrible for Amy f*cking Dallon to want to kill me.

Or more likely she just wasn't very practised at judging her creations and it was all just a big accident like I originally assumed.

My needles stitched together the woman's perforated intestine and I directed my healing magic into her guts, soaking it into the tissue I'd already sutured. In a few minutes, I could dissolve the thread and she'd be good as new, with only a thin scar to show she'd ever almost died at all.

The curtain sectioning off my makeshift operating table from the rest of the hospital rustled open as I was putting the finishing touches on the entry wound, making sure the ragged edges aligned as perfectly as possible.

"Hey, Amy," I said. "Remember when I almost died in the warehouse that one time, was that on purpose?"

"'Course it f*cking was."

I exhaled loudly through my nose, glancing up at her. Drawn, pale, eye bags like shiners; she looked like freckly death.

"I'll give you a top-up in a minute, what's up?"

"Just got a call from some guy named Weld," she put a finger on the woman's skin, frowned, then shrugged approvingly. "Asking if I could make you take your breaks."

"f*ck that sh*t, I'm halfway to the world record for being awake. I'm a little disappointed I haven't got any hallucinations yet."

"You're going to kill someone out of sleep deprivation negligence," Amy stepped around the operating table and kicked me in the shin, then poked my face. "I don't care about all your Brute powers, people aren't meant to be awake that long."

"What about Noctis capes?"

"Are you one?"

I wiped the last flakes of blood from the closed wound. "Maybe I am now. Dynamo doessomething, why not that?"

Amy blinked bloodshot eyes at me, uncomprehending and ignorant. "Even I'm pushing things with sleep," she jabbed her finger harder into my cheek. "Don't make me make you sleep-f*ck!"

She pulled back her hand, shaking it out, staring at me incredulously.

"You zapped me!"

"Don't threaten to sleep me."

"Stop being a medically negligent chode."

"She's fine," I gestured to the woman. "I'm a Noctis cape now, so it's fine."

"Even if that were true," Amy scratched at her fingertip where I'd zapped her, then pointed it at me again. "Noctis capes still take breaks from work. Stop being a dick."

Of course, I'd noticed that I was actually being a condescending dick due to lack of sleep and general stress. How could I not? I wasn't Old Greg any more. I wasn't even New Greg. I was something different, Greg Part Three if you will.

"Fine," I said. "I'm upset. Can I have a hug?"

"If you take off your armour, you can."

I equipped my old oversize hoodie and sweat pants in place of my uniform and held out my arms, which Amy stepped into and wrapped her arms around me. Girls were so small, Amy needed to work on her lats. I should call Savannah and set up a day for me to go to New York.

I wasn't entirely sure about what to do with her. On one hand, I was ecstatic she was my girlfriend, and on the other, she'd left before we had a chance to properly hang out and I'd been so busy we'd barely talked. How did one 'have a girlfriend'? What did it properly entail? Apparently, it would 'just work', according to the internet, via ancient mating instincts as long as I wasn't a sperg.

I sighed and let go.

"Still upset?"

I nodded. "I'm thinking I want to go see Savannah."

"That should do wonders for your relaxation," Amy raised her eyebrows, smirking smarmily.

"We can only hope. First date," I folded my right ring finger in, trapping it with my thumb, and jabbed my extended first, middle and pinky fingers in Amy's face. "Kapow!"

She gave a faux disgusted scoff, "tell that to that Weld guy, get him off your back about breaks."

"Good idea. And speaking of good ideas, there's something I'll need your help with in a few weeks, but I'm thinking of changing my Cape name to Heart Under Blade."

"What does it mean?"

"It's how you write Shinobi in Japanese, which means 'endure'. I think it fits me better than Dark Smoke Puncher, I want to make it my name for my Protectorate debut."

"Yeah," Amy shrugged. "Sounds cool, I guess. Definitely less stupid than Dark Smoke Puncher."

"There's nothing wrong with Dark Smoke Puncher," I said crossly. "It's funny and it makes people smile, it fits the mood for Wards names. What would you have called yourself, having my powers?"

"Panacea," she said smugly.

I made a derisive noise in my throat.

"Infinity, then."

"Bit on the nose. Infinity is a sub-type of Trump powers anyway and is actually my designation. Infinity Trump."

"Hmm, I said I'd have wanted flying blaster powers, right? Uh, Streaklight?"

I shrugged, "I almost have flying blaster powers, and it's not even my main set. You'd probably end up a flying brick blaster shaker etc. I'm going to get it all eventually, I think."

I sighed, reverberating my breath into a chuckle.

"Honestly, we should have gotten each other's powers."

"We've been over that," Amy said. "We shouldn't have because you'd make a sex slave."

I pointed at her, opened my mouth, closed it again and rubbed my chin. "It just makes sense. You need to be creepier and grosser, I honestly can't imagine a situation where making a sex slave isn't on the table. So much squandered potential."

Amy sighed the sigh of someone who had seriously considered it. "Whatever, can I have my top up now?"

I blew a raspberry and tapped her between the eyes. She glowed gold, then the eye bags were gone and her skin glowed with good health.

"Oh god, that feels so good."

"You're welcome."

"Come on," she smiled, punching my arm. "Let's go get a coffee, fifteen-minute break?"

"Man, I can't believe I missed out on it for the bloody hospital."

"It wasn't that fun," Weld shook his head as we walked side by side, trailed after by the rest of the team.

"Yeah, but with me there it would've been," I karate chopped, sparks trailing from my fingers. "You guys need a win."

There was obviously something more to it. Something else had happened, or they'd found something, and that was causing this terse attitude. It would also explain the meeting we were going to. As a rule, Wards weren't invited to Protectorate business unless it involved parahuman crime we couldn't avoid. It could be an update on the ABB scenario, but that didn't feel right. It felt bigger, way, way bigger.

I figured if they wanted to tell me, they would. Otherwise, I'd find out in a few minutes anyway.

We weren't meeting in The Rig, it having been trashed by Leviathan, but rather in a tall building near the PRT office that was being used as a temporary Protectorate base. I'd miss the ever so slight sway of the waves, briny smell and sea breezes of The Rig. The ride over the force-field bridge, the shimmer you got looking out over the city through the defensive force-field; it was all part of the experience. No more.

The Protectorate was already here, sitting around one side of the conference table. We trooped into the room and I sat down opposite Dauntless, we smiled and nodded to each other. Tomorrow an hour had been scheduled for us to spar so that I might complete my quest 'Unrelenting Force' and take part in the bounty therein.

"Hurry up!" barked Armsmaster from his standing position at the head of the table. Everyone hastened into their chairs, save for Weld who had to remain standing. "We've wasted enough time waiting for you lot."

The projector in the ceiling flicked on, splaying a series of images across the white wall. I suppressed a flinch; nine grisly strung up corpses.

"Code Black. It's the Nine."

"Confirmed?" asked Miss Militia.

"From Chief Director Costa-Brown."

"What are they here for?"

"We don't know," Armsmaster snapped, the projector flicking to show file photos of them. "Recruitment, a hit, fun. We won't know until they make it known. Current members are: Jack Slash, Mannequin, Crawler, Bonesaw, Siberian, Shatterbird, potentially Hatchet Face and we have intel of a Pyrokinetic of some kind. They may have others, youwillall read their files and youwillall read the combat briefings and memorise the Rules of Engagement for each one. Engagement is, of course," his lip curled. "Optional. S-Class Hazard pay applies."

sh*t. The Slaughterhouse Nine, huh? They were a big name, a homeless roving band of mass murderers, serial killers and other assorted supercriminals with a prodigious turnover rate. If six months was the average time it took for the usual independent hero to take a career-ending injury, three months was the average lifespan of the usual Slaughterhouse member. They either died to a Protectorate hero, a local villain or each other.

The biggest names in the group were definitely the Siberian and Jack Slash. The Siberian had killed Hero, the one who had made the Triumvirate originally the Quadumvirate, and Jack Slash had been heading the group for something like fifteen years.

Both of these feats were ludicrous and terrifying.

"Do we have a damage projection?" Dauntless asked.

"Use your brain," Armsmaster bit out scathingly. "Shatterbird is going to scream, at the very least. The second we issue a public warning, she screams; thousands dead at minimum. Then the rest of the Nine run amok until we somehow kick them out. Do not expect backup."

Dauntless drew back into his armour, nodding at the table.

"We don't have a solid timeline for their public appearance, either. We're on high alert starting yesterday. However, my prediction programs suggest at least a week before they show their faces based on all past data of their movements, which was given a rating of 'Rusty SeeSaw' by Delphic and 'Crimson' by Appraiser making it a solid maybe. Obviously, the second you have any informationtell me."

I drummed my fingers on the table,tap tap tap tap.My quests gave me future information, sometimes.Tap tap tap tap.Sometimes my quest information was incredibly bare-bones, just telling me to do something.Tap tap tap tap.Like telling me to kill an Endbringer without indicating how.Tap tap tap tap.Please don't f*ck me over on this one.

Come on. I stopped tapping, closing my eyes. Nine-Hundred, kill them before it's too late, beforehand. Before nine hundred, kill them.

"Do we know of any Parahumans with duplication powers?"

"Quest?!" Armsmaster snarled.

I nodded. "Slaughterhouse Nine-Hundred, kill them before it's too late, rewards for each one killed beforehand. I think they're going to clone themselves."

The room was silent.

Armsmaster turned to the wall, seemingly deep in thought. "Director Armstrong," he eventually said. "Do we have eyes on Blasto? The Slaughterhouse Nine may have him."

"You're not f*cking with us, are you?"

I turned to Assault.

"Smokey, this isn't you f*cking with us?"

"I promise, I'm not."

Assault made a clicking sound with the corner of his mouth, leaning back into his chair, hands behind his head and sighed. "sh*t, eh? If you are, hell of a poker-face, kid."

Battery put her hand on his arm.

"Do you have anything else?" Miss Militia asked. "Times, locations?"

"Unfortunately not, it just says 'before it's too late'. Hopefully, though, it'll update me when something happens and I fail on one of them even if I'm across the city. I could even be wrong in my interpretation-"

"Could your information be wrong?" Dennis interrupted. "Our best Thinkers have nothing for us, and you're conveniently coming out with this? Come on."

"It could be," I smiled encouragingly. "My power hasn't ever lied to me before that I could tell, but, it could be."

"I'll vouch for its reliability," Weld said, moving to place a hand on the back of my chair. "In Boston, he predicted a riot of Blasto creations."

Dennis' clock faces ticked in silence for a moment in the gaps between Armsmaster's phone call.

"So let's say it's real," he said. "You think there's going to be a hundred members of the Nine for each one?"

"I think that number might be more of an embellishment than a literal prediction, or a warning of what might happen if we leave them unchecked. I don't know how they're going to build up that number so quickly, unless they've had Blasto for months, or they have a Parahuman whose speciality is cloning. Sort of like Spree from the Teeth, but for others," I shrugged. "Either way, it's a bad sign."

Dennis sat back in his chair and didn't say anything further.

Armsmaster turned abruptly back to the table. "It's not Blasto. He was sighted last night in Boston, at roughly the time when the Arrival Killing would have been performed."

"Unless he's a decoy clone…" Dauntless trailed off, wilting under the force of Armsmaster's scowl.

"Unless that, yes. However, we have no way to fact check so the idea is pointless. We'll be operating under the assumption that there is a new Parahuman at play, given that Bonesaw has never displayed any previous cloning technology, and will act accordingly. Keep your work issue phones on you, and on, at all times and be prepared to receive calls at all hours. We will continue work as usual but be prepared to have rosters and schedules changed without notice," Armsmaster smiled thinly. "I recommend sleeping on site. Dark Smoke Puncher, each morning you will provide healing to all Protectorate personnel and to wounded PRT personnel. I want us all in tip-top shape."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, we will now go over the briefing packets and coordinate tactics."

It was a quiet drive back to the PRT building, the silence both drained by the hours-long meeting and tense due to their poor communication issues; something apparently to be mended as Weld led the way into the Wards area and addressed us.

"Ok, guys," he began. "I know today hasn't been fun, but we have to do this now before the situation in the city gets even worse."

He gestured to the couches with grim expectancy.

"Sure, bro," I said, taking a seat in the one on the left.

Grudgingly, Chris, Missy and Dennis took the one on the right while Weld and Lily stayed standing.

"We need to sort this out before it makes the team even more toxic and gets one of us hurt in the field, or," Weld put his hand over his chest meaningfully. "Off the field. Lily and I are new here, so we don't know your history, so I want us to remain impartial and let you sort out whatever the problem is."

"I'd like to know too," I said, affecting being a reasonable human being. "I know I was an annoying piece of sh*t in the past, but I apologised for that, didn't I?"

"Ah, man," said Chris, resting his elbows on his knees and not meeting my eye. "You can be alright, but there's kind of a lot more to it than that."

I made a point of physically taking off my visor so that everyone could see my eyes. "Like what, bro?"

"'Like what?' he says," Dennis bit out, half rising from his seated position. "Where should I begin? Yeah, you apologised for that, but have you ever apologised for having Sophia sent away? She wasn't the nicest person, but sh*t, man, we needed everyone we could get. Or how you drove Brad away, because why? Was he going to steal your thunder or something? Not to mention all the special treatment you get from Armsmaster, you brown-nosing suck-up! But that's not the f*cking last of it," he snarled, turning his helmeted face to Weld accusingly before turning back to me. "When you killed Cricket, did it even bother you the tiniest bit? When Dean and Carlosdied, didthatbother you? And just a minute ago, you talking about how you were going to go kill the Nine like it was nothing! You weird robot f*ck!"

I frowned.

"Did something happen with your power to f*ck with your head, huh? What was it?"

"Dennis," Weld said loudly. "Please keep insults out of it."

"I never said I was going to kill the Nine," I said finally. "I said that my power said it would reward me for killing them, and would likely also update me if whatever it wanted me to stop them doing happened."

"Hell of a f*cking implication."

I shrugged. "Out of all of you, only Dean ever treated me nicely."

"I was never mean to you," said Chris.

"Sorry, yeah, you were alright. I definitely deserved the cold shoulder for the first few months, but surely after I got back from Boston I deserved better."

"Greg," said Missy, her arms and legs folded having shoved herself as far down into the couch as she could. "We did see how much better you'd gotten, but then… Leviathan happened and you just… didn't seem to care. So many people died, our home got trashed, and I don't think I've seen you even look like you cared. It was like you were going through the motions so that we could see it. I know we appreciate you healing us, but if you don't care you don't have to bother."

I frowned again. I wasn't sure what I should do. On one hand, they had all completely missed the mark and were egregiously applying the Fundamental Attribution Error, which I couldn't dispel without spilling my purse all over the coffee table; and I didn't particularly want to do that. I could talk with Amy about all this stuff, how much almost being murdered messed me up, the situation with my parents, etc. I even had Sveta for a lot of it, and I would make sure to have a talk with Weld about it, too.

But these guys? Eh. Not their fault nobody had told them anything important, but still, eh.

And yet, telling them would solve issues. Weld needed it for this team to work, and Weld was my bro. You shouldn't ever dog the bros.

"I'm faking it. Like six of my powers let me fake being ok, which I've been doing since before the first time the Nazi's tried to kill me. It's why they sent me away, remember? The only reason I came back was that Bakuda put my mum in a coma and, now my dad is probably in one of her slave camps. And no, I'm not going to stop faking it because I don't particularly feel like crying right now. I'm sorry it's making me come off as a sociopath, I do care."

"Greg, are youmastering yourselfto make it look like you're ok?"

I turned to Weld, raising my eyebrows. "Funny you should say that. My Acting skill recently prestiged into Self Mastery, so yes, that is quite literally what I'm doing."

"Is that," Lily said. "That can't be healthy."

"Probably not, but, I'm actually doing better than I was a month ago. I guess Leviathan put a lot of things in perspective-"

Thank you, Amy and your Panacea. I remembered who I had been while on it, and even though the effects wore off, something remained.

"-kind of made worrying about a lot of stuff seem redundant. After the first Nazi attack, I was terrified of mirrors for months. Couldn't stand reflections, still not keen-"

"That was why you had it covered, in Boston," Weld said, understanding dawning in his voice.

"Yeah, it was also why I never looked directly at you. It wasn't that you're a Case Fifty-Three, you're just too shiny. But now?" I looked him in the eyes. "It's not so bad."

I turned back to Dennis who hadn't uncoiled from his tense, confrontational posture.

"Look, man, I don't blame you for not liking me but this isn't a sob story."

"How do we know you're telling the whole truth? You're a liar, Greg. Remember when you tried to feed us that insulting bullsh*t about your trigger?"

"Oh," I said. "That. The truth is just so undashing. I triggered in my sleep, there's precedent for it with Thinker and Master powers especially, which makes sense given the heavy skill Thinker aspect of mine. I'm sorry I did that, it was offensive and stupid."

"How do we know you aren't faking this? We already know your power lets you be a great liar, why couldn't you be lying about caring that our f*cking friends died."

"You heard my song at the memorial, that was how I feel."

Dennis made a long hissing sound but sat back. "It better have been."

"Are you really just pretending to be happy?" Missy asked, seemingly unable to uncross her arms or legs. "If you were he must have known, right? Dean knew?"

"He did. I could tell, I don't think he knew how to go about bringing it up, though."

"I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, Greg," Chris stood up and stepped around the coffee table to my side of the discussion. "But you have to be honest with us, we're a team. Like, yeah, we should have brought this up sooner, too. I'm sure we all understand pretending that everything's fine to a degree, oh, uh, can you clear up what happened with Sophia and Brad? You never explained."

"Sophia broke her probation and Brad didn't want to get into fights with Villains he didn't have to, so I explained how he could get out of fieldwork and still get paid. I guess Armsmaster never told you? I don't have the power to just get people removed," I stood up and offered my hand to Chris. "All of this is just one big misunderstanding."

"I really appreciate you taking the time to help me, Geromy."

"All good," Geromy paused in strapping on his greaves to flash me a quick smile. "Your method is a bit more involved than mine, but I get it."

"Still, thanks."

"We help each other. Stuff like this helps keep me sharp and helps you keep gaining your levels, and boy," he yanked the strap on his right greave tight. "Are we going to need it."

I lowered my long-bladed spear, my favourite form of my Anypole, from where I was running through an improvised kata that Jiraiya made feel natural.

"I'm not sure how much difference a level is going to make against these guys. I won't be able to get close enough to Hatchet Face to do anything, I won't be able to hurt Crawler, Shatterbird can fly and the Siberian is invincible."

"That's only half of them," Geromy stood up and stretched, testing his armoured mobility. "I can fly, Miss Militia can take care of Hatchet Face, Armsmaster can hurt Crawler and well, the Siberian is…"

"Invincible. I hope to god she has some kind of Achilles heel I can find."

I didn't like my chances. The Siberian was fast enough to claw Alexandria's eye out, and Alexandria could fly at like Mach Twenty or some sh*t and was invincible to everything that wasn't the Siberian. My only hope was she didn't have some hitherto unknown ability to see through invisibility.

"Your power is strong, you will."

Convictionless words, sapped of their ability to reassure through sheer lack of belief. Nobody would kill the Siberian. If not even the Triumvirate and all the Protectorate could stop Hero from dying, and the Siberian going free for years after, then no-one could.

"Yeah," I said. "They'll get theirs."

We shared an empty smile, each understanding that the other knew it was futile.

"They will. Well, let's get to it, we don't have all day. I'm ready."

"This won't be anything like last time," I told Geromy as we squared off in the centre of the new sparring chamber. "My power has doubled since the last time we fought."

"I've got some new tricks, too." Geromy's lance and boots burst into lightning, his shield expanding a series of concentric rings, his armour exuding light and tines of electricity sprouted from his helmet like a crown.

"Impressive," I said. "Very nice. But watch this."

I raised my right hand into a fist, pointer and ring finger extended. I placed them on my forehead.

Special Beam Cannon!

I flung my hand out, the blinding helix of lightning streaking across the room at fantastic speed. It bored full-on into Dauntless' chest, splashing uselessly against the aura of light it produced.

"In my defence, I created that power literally just now."
Dauntless chuckled, lifting off the ground on trails of sparks. "I know you said don't go easy on you, but are you sure?"

I hefted my spear and threw it at him, it bounced off the rings of his shield and returned to my hand. "I think we might stalemate again. Your defence is too good and my mobility is too good."

"I think so, too. Gotta try though, eh?"

I sank into a sprinters crouch, lightning crawling out of my skin like a Sayain's aura. With my new found Mana control a great many opportunities were open to me that were previously closed due to exorbitant cost, like a Combat Mode.

Alacrity expounded on my fighting strengths of speed, reaction times and lightning damage whilst also giving lesser increases in sensory perception and reading enemy movement.

I pushed off, a single step carrying me on a collision course with Dauntless' face. As my fist closed in his shield bubbled, the sphere of energy slamming into me, pitching me across the floor. I tumbled once, bouncing back into a comfortable standing position.

"Damn, dude, how'd you see that coming?"

"Helmet," Dauntless whacked himself in the head with his lance. "Gives me better awareness. You'da had me without it, though."

His Arclance lashed out, barely a glint of light to telegraph it, and I only just got my hand up to parry it, jarring my wrist.

"Yeah," he echoed. "We're going to stalemate again."

"Hold on, let me go again. I have a stronger attack that might bust your shield."

Dauntless nodded, floating down to floor level with his shield bubble fully expanded.

I walked forward, drawing my right hand back palm open. I stabbed forward with my Arc Blade, the sharp mass of electricity grinding against Dauntless' shield with a horrific screech as it slid off like it had been greased. I frowned.

"Nope," I said. "That was my best shot. Well, almost. I do have some other attacks-"

I fired off a Sonic Blast to no effect other than sounding like a foghorn.

"But it might give you brain damage, so I don't want to test it. Actually, though, it might work on Crawler unless he's immune to it…"

Could I Mind Crush Crawler? I'd have to see if I ever met him. Could I Mind Crushthe Siberian?Ooh…

For a split second my hands gnarled, my teeth grit and I wanted to f*cking kill them. AndBakuda.I was going to shoot her in the f*cking head. I was going to rip her hands off and blow her f*cking brains out. I was going to gut Lung before he could transform and turn Oni Lee into a burnt-out husk.

Then I was going to go on and shred my way through the Slaughterhouse Nine. Nobody will ever threaten my mum and dad again, they wouldn'tdare.

Nobody ever tried to find and threaten Legend's family. It would be suicide.

I'd just have to be a badder motherf*cker than him.

"-be, you'd have to try," Dauntless thoughtlessly interrupted me. "Not that we want you to be anywhere near him, but it's always nice to have that option there, isn't it? Just in case."

"It definitely makesmefeel safer," I smiled, dropping my Alacrity. "I'll leave the Nine to the professionals, thank you very much, but it's nice to be able to protect myself if it ever comes to it."

Dauntless touched down, the burning white lightning dimming from his lance and armour. "You're a good kid, Greg. Don't you worry about a thing, us Protectorate aren't no slouches."

"Thanks, man. So how do you want to do this, just fight like normal or-"

Loud static emanated from the PA speaker in the ceiling, interrupting me.

"Attention all active field staff, head to the command centre, please. Repeat, head to the command centre, thank you."

I looked at Geromy, who gestured at the door with a serious motion, and we set off hurrying through the building that was suddenly buzzing with activity. People barking through phones, hurrying about, fumbling through desk drawers.

We joined a coterie of just-on-duty PRT troopers, still fastening vest straps and carrying dark visored helmets under armpits. Nobody, it seemed, knew what was going on other than we weren't under attack.

We reached the command centre, already packed with people, and crammed our way inside. Armsmaster stood on the small raised podium at the front of the room, pacing back and forth, his arms gesturing sharply in a conversation from within his sealed helmet that even my enhanced hearing couldn't pick up. Even through the controlled posture his armour gave him he seemed manic, feverish.

I jumped, twisted, sticking on all fours to the ceiling. I picked my way across the sturdiest lines like a spider, Grace preventing me from tearing out ceiling panels as I made my way quickly across, dropping lightly down to stand next to Armsmaster.
He glanced at me, nodded, then ignored me in favour of whatever he was doing inside his helmet.

Had the Slaughterhouse Nine shown themselves early? From the conversations I was getting from the troops' none of them knew what was going on either, confusion multiplying as people packed around the doorways. Surely if it was the Nine the PA alert would have said so, right? No action codes had been called out.

Armsmaster turned back to face me, panels in his helmet sliding back to expose his spittle-flecked beard.

"We found him, your father."

Heat flooded my body, all hair standing on end. I'd been looking, of course, during my patrols but hadn't come up with a solid location. With my intel combined with the rest of the Protectorate and PRT sources, we'd managed to triangulate the new main ABB base to a few city blocks and it looked like something had come through.

"How?" my voice came out thin, strained. "Who?"

"Anonymous cellphone footage."

"And we're going?"

Armsmaster bared his teeth, "we'reallgoing. This is a raid, my, no,ourlast chance to do something big before the Nine throw everything tit* up."

He held out his arm, a panel sliding back near his elbow and tipped out three pen lid sized injector vials. He handed them to me, leaning in close.

"I need you to tag Lung with at least one of these. Two would work better, but they have three supercriminals and I'm not made of the stuff; at your discretion. Not a word."

I got the impression he winked, but I couldn't see enough of his face to be sure. I stared for a moment at the spinning yellow quest symbol above his head.

"Whatever you decide to do today, I'll back you on it. You want to disobey orders, run ahead and smash heads until you save your dad? Fine, so long as after today the gang known as the Azn Bad Boys is crippled beyond repair. Understood?"

"You got it, boss"

The paddy wagon jostled over the still uneven road, suspension lurching as it dealt with potholes and chunks, pitching Missy into my shoulder. Dennis likewise was having trouble looking cool in the bouncing van, limbs locked stiffly against available surfaces.

I, however, remained perfectly still and unruffled as did Weld, due to his immense weight, Lily due to her impeccable sense of timing and Chris due to his armour's motion compensators. It was karmic justice, in a way, that the people who thought I was cool were unaffected by the bumpy ride and the two who had yet to shake my hand and tell me they forgave my past atrocities were left looking foolish.

Christ, what a f*cking gay thought. As if the universe conspires to make people who don't like us look like idiots.

Yes, yes, shut up, me. Why can't I let us have petty self-righteous fantasies any more? They're fun.

If they were fun why would I say anything?

Because you're a buzz-killing dickwipe.

Just do the thing.

I twirled my hands, leaning forward and conjuring two hand-hold railings. "Do you want a rail to hold on to? Dennis? Missy?"

I could see their already bruising pride bristle as I brought to light their deficiencies in a way they either had to accept or look like dicks for knocking back my overture of goodwill. Not that it was what I meant, but when you're so awesome it's hard not to offer help without looking condescending.

"Thanks," Missy said grudgingly.

I stuck the rail to the wall of the van between us with a quick application of adhesive mana and she put her elbow over it, pinning it to her side and settling her jolting. I wiggled the other at Dennis and he nodded shortly. I stuck it to his wall and he mirrored Missy's grip.

"Good on you, Greg," Weld nodded encouragingly. "We should be helping each other like that when we can."

"It's nothing," I ducked my head, humile.

"No, no, it's the sort of thing a team-mate should be doing," Weld shuffled forward on his part of the bench until he was sitting on the edge. "I've been having a think on how to get things… copacetic, between all of us. I want us to have a weekly team meeting. I'll tack up a whiteboard and throughout the week we'll write down stuff we want to talk about during the meeting, and everybody will have a turn to speak uninterrupted on their topic after which we'll discuss the issue. Before all of that though, we'll start by saying one thing we appreciate about each of the other team members or something they've done that week we're grateful for, so we aren't just harping on about the negatives."

He took a microsecond to gauge our reactions.

"I know it sounds a bit… wanky," he continued in a subdued tone. "I really want this team to work, though. If we can just get the resentment out of the way I don't think we'd have to have them every week. I'll sort it out and we can start Monday after next, yeah?"
"I'm game," said Lily. "It'll help me to get to know you all better."

"Same," I said. "I want us to be friends, not just co-workers."

Which was true, just without the desperate intensity that thought once had. God, I was so approval-seeking back then. Makes me f*cking sick thinking of how I used to beg for attention like some kind of dog. Pathetic.

I kick Old Greg into his grave, the motion causing microscopic anime convention tickets to erupt from the corpse like a cloud of spores. He rolls into the shallow grave and does not stir.

I turn to New Greg. He is like me, so much like me, save for one key difference; he isn't me. I jerk my head at the grave and for a moment I see the desire to be Madison Clements' lolita foot slave flare up behind his eyes before he closes them. He kneels in front on the grave and I raise my hand. My finger pulls the trigger and a hollow point takes New Greg in the brainstem.

A painless death. He topples into the grave atop Old Greg. He bleeds real blood, red and fresh, no hint of corn syrup or IQ boosting Richard and Mortimer memes. I cover the grave with dirt and leave, I walk far away until I cannot see the freshly turned soil.

"Couldn't hurt," Chris forced a smile, glancing quickly at Dennis then away again. "We should at least give it a try."

"I think it's a good idea, getting through this dysfunction," Missy said, tense against her railing, looking anywhere but our faces. "Clear the air some more…"

Dennis scoffed. "Sure thing, dude. Let's all be friends, it'll be magical. I vote we do trust falls."

He was probably too angry to see the irony.

I was still a little iffy on why he was so mad, now that things had been cleared up. Maybe he just didn't believe me, Dean had been his best friend so that wound would no doubt not close soon. But I'd cured his dad's cancer, for free, unprompted. I'd have thought that'd earn me points, but maybe that was the thing? He thought I was just doing to earn points in a scummy way, I'd healed his dad in bad faith so that he'd owe me. It could also be that my atrocious first impression just never was forgotten and his mental image of me was stuck in the past, and to be fair I had been a moron for a long time after getting powers.

"That's the spirit," said Weld, pointedly ignoring the scoff and Dennis' tone. "Everyone will feel so much better without all this, I dunno,bad energyfloating around. Trust me. Again, if you want it in more practical terms, it'll help our fieldwork if people aren't giving each other the cold shoulder during patrols or over the console."

"Yeah," said Dennis. "Sounds great. We should get a class gerbil, too."

"You should put that on the list," Weld said, his smile the forced one teachers used to have with me.

Dennis slouched over his rail, looking away from everyone.

Our van pulled to a stop, parking next to the series of other PRT vans a mere street from my dad. Weld stood up and opened the back doors. The van lurched as he stepped out of it, the sudden absence of his weight relieving the overworked suspension. We piled out after him into a tense atmosphere where PRT troopers gripped their rifles in neat ranks waiting for the call.

"Right," said Weld, lowering his voice and standing up straighter. "We're assisting only. We're the backline."

I hovered around the edge of the group, slowly making my way behind them. Eyes off me I felt my Hidden Movement skill take, making it less likely that anyone would notice me. With this, I turned invisible and took off, vaulting over a van and heading straight for the disused cinema complex the ABB had taken.

There was no way that they didn't already know we were here, their lookouts would have seen the convoy and our people. They'd be fortifying, holding chokepoints and readying whatever it was Bakuda had cooked up.

It took me only a moment to get within touching distance of the complex. I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and focusing on the sounds. The nearby area unfolded in my mind's eye, each gust of wind, each footstep sending vibrations I could tap in to and map everything out.

On the roof, two lookouts. I jumped, catching the wall with my feet and walked cautiously up. The roof expanded in my head before I reached it. Three lookouts in a triangle formation. Should be easy.

I crested the lip of the roof, pulling myself upright. Three lookouts. One just a meter away, hidden under a camo-blanket with a pair of small binoculars in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. Hopefully, they didn't have to call in every few minutes to make sure they hadn't been taken out by a Stranger, and equally, hopefully, they didn't have a password system to account for Masters. Bakuda was supposed to be some Ivy League genius who got in years early, so I didn't have high hopes for her not reading a leaked PRT operations manual and co-opting their Master/Stranger protocols.

Nevertheless; I reached forward. My left hand came in contact with the back of his head, a Mana Shackle that covered his eyes and mouth blossoming from the point of contact, while my right hand yanked his wrist behind his back and, as he flailed, I caught his other wrist and bound them together. I forced his knees together, Shackling them too.

One second, total silence. The other two hadn't stirred.

I flitted across the roof, repeating this process with the remaining lookouts. Once secured I quickly dragged them together, rummaged around until I found a key to the roof access door, confiscated their guns, shot off a quick text to Armsmaster to tell him where I was up to and slid the key into the door.

A walkie-talkie crackled. "Lookout Alpha, check in."

I glanced back to the three men and sighed. f*ck.

I continued through the door. Didn't matter much to me if they knew I was here or not, the end result would be the same. I lightly took the stairs down, pulling up my growing sound map of the interior. There was another guard at the foot of the stairs, I confirmed him as a dyed-in-the-wool ABB member. Where would the civilians be? Where was my dad?

I basketball palm-gripped his face, covering his head in solid blue. He screamed, muffled, as I forced him to his knees and shackled him to the stairwell railing. I gripped his shoulder, so full of fragile bones.

Bad idea, chief.

I released my grip, dipping my hand down to inventory the handgun out of his waistband then moved to put my ear to the door. Activity splayed the room across my brain, rushing steps and loud voices expanding the area I could decode.

I pushed on the unlock bar holding the door closed, keeping my fingers on my left hand on the edge of the door I stepped forward and grabbed the guy who had just stepped in front of the door. I dragged him inside and shut it again, shackling him with his compatriot.
I had noticed, so far, that all the gangsters I'd subdued were Korean. It checked out, our dossiers, and everything I'd read in the previous months I was here indicated that the 'ABB' only existed as a sort of front to appease Lung. The reality was the ABB was comprised of the same gangs Lung had melded together as cells; members of the ABB in name only they internally were still 'Yakuza', 'Triad' and 'Chong-ro' and only worked together enough to ensure survival.

Lung, the Protectorate presumed, didn't care that his gang wasn't particularly unified so long as he was in charge of it. Infighting didn't bother him, not getting his cut bothered him.

I checked things were clear and went back through the push door which led the to back area, a sort of loading bay where I guessed the cinema would get its shipments of poppable corn and flavoured syrup.

"It's here."

The whisper of the sixth man carried to me across the loading area. He was behind a column of concrete near the door to the main complex, peering around the corner. It. I was an It. That was really awesome, I was really awesome.

Again, I wasn't particularly miffed that they knew I was here but by now they'd have had time to trap the door out of here. I'd have to find another way in, like cutting through a wall.

I tweaked my Chameleon Skin, spreading it out in front of me like a screen rather than it covering me, and got out my phone again to let Armsmaster know the score. I read his latest message.

Bromaster: Lung and Oni Lee on route.

It was sent a minute ago. Oni Lee could get anywhere in the city in that time. I covered myself again, inventorying my phone.

He wasn't in the room with me, I was certain of that much, but he either knew where I was or would know very shortly. I pounced on the sixth guy, covering his head and snatching the flip phone from his hand before he could make a noise. I closed my eyes, recalling his voice, playing it over in my mind, extrapolating tone and timbre. I forced him to the floor and locked him down.

The phone was still on the call.

"Help me, please," I whispered in the man's voice. "Is Oni Lee here yet?"

The line cut. Bugger. The guy was probably meant to be report only and I'd just tipped them off… what was that-

I leapt.

-427

I slipped as I landed, agony shooting up the exposed bone of my shin, the movement still graceful. I caught a glimpse of the sixth guy, now just an empty space, the jagged edges of something slowly fading and exposing where it had sheared into the wall as easily as it had me.

He was gone. The guy was gone. He was dead?

I gasped as something fell out of my stomach. Oh f*ck, I wasn't at full mana, my ring…

Healing Spell: Flesh Stitching
Flesh stitching…

Ethereal green poured out of my skin like vapour, congealing around my wounds. The solid fortnight of using that spell for hours every day paying off as the bleeding stopped immediately.

I took a shuddering breath as the blinding pain dropped to something merely excruciating then faded to a dull throb.

Bakuda was insane. She'd just killed one of her own. She was insane. That guy. She's insane.

I nearly died again.

A wave of nausea forced my lunch up, bile coating my teeth and tongue with acidic fur. The vomit was red with my blood. I heaved again.

I needed to hide somewhere. Oni Lee could be here any second and he'd kill me.

I dragged myself into a crawl, the nubs of my legs finding purchase. I jumped, a flop, but it sent me all the way across the room into a corner. I huddled into it. I needed to keep healing myself, once I got over my health limit I'd start to regenerate. Then I just had to meditate for a bit to get my mana back and I'd be good. I could put on my spare uniform and go back to chill with Weld and Lily like I'd just been gone for a piss. Yeah, I'd do that. No problemo.

I slumped against the corner, my breath still coming in ragged gasps, my vision greying out. No, no. No good, don't hyperventilate yourself out. How many people have you told this last week to stop hyperventilating and just breathe normally? A hundred and eighty-nine, you remember all of them. Just focus on the health bar, it's nearly full again, see? Couple of minutes and you'll be right as rain.

The door leading to the roof opened a crack.

I curled up into a ball and screwed up my eyes, mana flowing over me, blanketing me in a wafer-thin facsimile of a black garbage bag. I didn't have the juice to spare on anything else, I wasn't healed yet and I was getting close to running dry.

The door opened further, the scrapes of the hinges outlining the echoes of an adult man. There was a softwhump, two men. One at the door and one at the jagged gouge in the concrete.

I cringed further into a ball.

Oni Lee shifted, his measured, unhurried movements making it difficult to hear exactly what he was doing.

A near-silent breathy sound as the clone at the door turned to powder, but the door did not close. Propped open, so he could escape in a flash.

I chanced a peek, opening up a pinprick hole in my cover. He was kneeling next to the puddle of my blood and vomit, red Oni mask turned down, examining it. He raised a phone to his ear.

"The infiltrator remains, hurt."

"f*ck's sake," the snarling feminine voice over the phone. Bakuda. "f*cking Strangers. You can't see them?"

"No."

"Are they there?"

"It's likely."

There was the faint sound of Bakuda spitting. "Use the Suck Bomb and stay alert."

Lee moved again, something struck the floor with the ring of a dropped metal cup, the sound wave outlining a second Lee who closed the door to the roof behind him.

The wind roared, lashing my ears, ripping my bin bag camouflage away. I opened my eyes again as I began to slide across the floor toward a miniature black hole.

I scrabbled against the concrete, stump legs finding no purchase until I adhered myself to the ground with mana. The suction grew, lifting me up off the floor to dangle by the palm of one hand, whipping the breath from my mouth.

I... I guess this is why the Protectorate don't just go and arrest the gangs, huh?

The suction cut out slowly, lowering me back down to the floor in a disturbingly gentle way completely incongruous with the situation. The concrete felt cool against my cheek, pressing my visor into the bridge of my nose. My rapid breaths stirred no dust from the floor, it was spotlessly clean; all dirt and anything not nailed down vanished into the fading black hole bomb. Jesus f*ck.

The mechanism of the door clicked along its ratchet.

Of course, he wanted to f*cking check. sh*t. I ground my nose into the floor and cast Chameleon Skin, vanishing from view once again. I sank deep into my Hidden Movement skill, holding my breath, becoming the very soul of stillness.

Oni Lee paced into the room then stopped, for all I could tell just standing there. The seconds ticked by and my Health ticked up. Actually, this was good for me if he wanted to waste time. I had minutes left of invisibility and every moment that went by I would get back into un-mutilated shape.

I watched as my mana slowly dwindled. Lee had still not moved. I could hear him breathing, even and calm. What was he waiting for?

I might have to fight him. Fight him on next to no mana and no legs.

I'd lose, he'd kill me. He wouldn't care that I was a Ward.

"They appear to have died."

Cackling erupted from the receiver. "Great! f*cking great! One thing goes right today. Now get back here, ASAP."

The line clicked dead and Oni Lee turned and left, unhurried. The door automatically closed behind him.

I didn't let my breath out, didn't drop my invisibility or even move. It would be a classic ploy to fake me out by pretending to leave, then coming back once I'd foolishly revealed myself. I waited, heart pounding frantically in my chest until my mana ran out.

I let out a deep sigh. He had to have gone; I was safe.

I dragged myself over to the wall, huddling against a yellow steel pillar next to the raising garage-like door. The flesh on my legs and belly itched, slowly reforming as my powers tried to regenerate my health past full. I sank deep into my meditative state.

Normally, I reflected, this would be about the point where I gave up. Some last residue of the plague of my former cowardice remained, I wanted to run and bury my head in the sand as I had in every confrontation at Winslow. sh*t was getting too real and, for all my big talk, I hated real sh*t. f*cking hated it.

But could I stomach it? If I couldn't it would mean abandoning dad, and if this was one of my wanky Xianxia web-novels that choice would be a permanently corrupting influence on my Dao.

When sh*t got real with Armsmaster, I stayed with him. The result was nearly dying and my chronic suffering. Would that happen here, now that sh*t was real? Was I going to have a thing about standing too close to people just in case they were dimensionally shearing bear traps?

For a very long time, I hadn't understood what 'being Triumvirate' meant outside the reality that everyone would love me. It meant sh*t like this though, getting your legs blown off by a psycho then regrowing them and going back for more because it was the right thing.

No puss*ing out, you had to be a Hero.

Even if Alexandria, Legend and Eidolon were up to shady sh*t as they tried to save the world they never puss*ed out.

I really wanted to save dad, but I wasn't sure if I had the battle tendency. That heat in my blood.

I watched as my feet regrew. I thought about the Ship of Theseus. Had enough of me been replaced that I could be a completely different Greg? Did that matter? Was my metaphorical past self being dead and buried just wishful thinking? I liked to think I'd changed, that me from the past would have given up, had he the chance, when he blew himself up fighting Hans but I as I was now would not. I'd had a lot of fantasies about that, working through the electrical burns to hurt him in various ways.

I guess it came down to what I could live with. If I dipped, went back to the van, and dad was rescued without me could I live with knowing I hadn't tried my best to save him? But what if I stayed, and I died for real this time? Would that be worth it?

I had the potential to be strong enough to help alotof people if I gave it a few years. I'd be in charge of a whole department, geared to use those resources to better people's lives even after society's collapse. Would it be worth risking my future Good?

I know dad would tell me it wasn't, that I should play it safe and 'put all my money in a compounding fund' as it were. That I was worth more than him. But he was my dad, he had to say that. I know mum would say the same, but how could I ever look her in the eye after?

I wiggled the forming stumps of my toes, and didn't that feel weird.

My mana topped out and I hauled myself to my feet. I took a moment to wipe the moisture out of the inside of my visor and equipped my spare armoured uniform.

Yeah, I'm thinking I'm back.

I took a deep fortifying breath. Bakuda was prepared whilst I had run in like a big f*cking idiot, half-co*cked expecting to walk through like I owned the place. I didn't even need to be four times smarter than anyone.

Even chimpanzees understood a basic ambush.

My clone walked to the door leading further into the cineplex, a blank blue humanoid figure rather than anything identifying. Its hands touched the doors, pushing. The second the door opened more than a crack there was a terrificbang.I flinched, covering my ears as sound waves rolled over me in a vicious crescendo and bright blue fire splattered over the floor and walls, continuing to burn without heat.

I stood safely on the ceiling in the furthest corner from the door, invisible, and waited. I was sure Oni Lee would be sent back in to check and correct his f*ck-up. They wouldn't send a normal human, given how easily I'd subdued them, and Bakuda would be too busy organising the defence. I didn't think Lung would be here just yet, it had only been some fifteen minutes since Armsmaster sent that text and, more importantly, I couldn't hear fighting from outside.

Without warning Oni Lee appeared in the middle of the room, gun drawn. In an eyeblink three more of him appeared at key points, keeping all of the areas within view of at least one of them.

I steeled myself. One breath in, one breath out.

On the end out the out-breath, my tags went off. Doors, windows, corners; anything that could be used as an exit point or hiding place hidden behind thick clouds of smoke before Lee could react. I took control of the smoke, expanding it without needing to touch it, coating the walls and ceiling.

"I'm trapped, dark blue smoke covers my exits."

I dropped lightly to the floor, commanding the smoke to fill the room.

"Dark smoke?" Bakuda's voice was an incredulous bark. "It was that f*cking Ward?"

"It's closing in and I cannot see them."

"Shiiiiit. Well, kill them if you can and try not to do an actual suicide bomb."

"Understood."

He hung up and multiplied. Lee upon Oni Lee filling the remaining space, all firing their handguns at random into the smoke. Each time one turned to ash another took its place, endless Lee's and endless bullets sending sound waves disorientingly echoing through the room.

I held up my shield, Mana Object at a thickness tested to be bulletproof, jaw gritting as bullets splintered chips off of it. The smoke encroached further, each inch cutting off teleport space until only the original Oni Lee remained.

He went still. "I have failed to kill him."

"God damnit!" Bakuda hissed. "How did this happen? I'm smarter than this. You told me there was a f*ckinghugepuddle of blood. What is he, f*cking Brute five as well?"

Lee took a breath to answer but I was already moving. I dissolved the shield, one hand encasing his face and the other jabbing him in the neck with the sedative. I grabbed his gun, and leapt back, running up the wall to a window I'd left open and slipped out of it. I stuck to the wall, still invisible and took off. I couldn't take the chance he'd explode too, and he was packed to the gills with tinkertech grenades. It wasn't going to happen again.

I ran up, onto a different part of the roof with no access door. I huddled up against the only cover available, the ventilation duct and dropped my invisibility. I got out my phone.

Greg: oni lee tranqued

I had a few paths to go down. In one I would go find Lung and tranq him before the fighting started, which may actually make Bakuda surrender. Or it might make her freak out and kill everyone in the building including herself, in which case I would have to disable her first then get Lung, hopefully, once he wasn't too strong.

My phone buzzed.

Bromaster: thank you
Bromaster: get the f*ck back here, now

Huh? A cold pit began to settle in my stomach. Something had gone obviously, terribly wrong. I slipped across the roof, jumping down to the ground and racing back to the group. Even as I neared I didn't drop my invisibility; Coil had snipers.

Armsmaster turned to face me as I neared, several people startling as he spoke.

"Dark Smoke. Good work on Lee, but it's provoked Bakuda ahead of schedule. She's just let us know that if we don't show her that you're here she's going to start killing hostages."

Oh sh*t, oh f*ck. God, I was stupid. Why didn't I see that she was going to go with the hostages? It's so frikken obvious.

"With that in mind," Armsmaster continued. "We're going to move fully into the negotiation phase. This has unfortunately turned into a siege. I had hoped that Lung would show himself but he seems to have snuck in the back and is hiding with Bakuda. I have a feeling he's going to come out for a confrontation once he's ready, hehastaken on our entire team at once before as I'm sure you remember."

His lips quirked into a bitter, brittle smile above his beard but there was something else in it, a reminder. Knowing him, he wanted me to inject Lung with his sedative then face him on his own while the gang leader was slowly weakened. I suspected he would take whatever win he could get though, even if he had to share it with the rest of his team.

He turned to the assembled heroes and troopers. "We're pulling forward, form up around the building."

The looks he got were vaguely mutinous. The mood had slid considerably when people realised the gist that not only was he talking to me, but had seemingly sent me into an incredibly hostile tinker trapped building to take down psychotic murderers.

Yeah, that sounded insane. Whyhadhe okayed that? I was too keyed up about dad to think about it but as I watched him for a moment as people finally started following his orders, he was still vibrating with that manic intensity. This couldn't be about his job, or my dad, or else he'd have been pulling stunts like this for years. Even the time pressure of the Nine's appearance didn't make sense in pushing him this far…ah.