Olympic Valley was a terrible school. The neighborhood was poor and infested with loose gangs of bored teens looking for something interesting to do, whether that was drinking, drugs, girls or crime. The teachers didn't care about anything; their students, their education or their sobriety. As long as they showed up, the teens could put up their feet and chat as long as they pretended to take notes and put forth a modicum of effort in tests.
So, when they were approached by the Seattle chapter of the PRT with the intention of sending a Ward there, along with a generous stipend, the scarred Director could've demanded the Principle to pull his pants down and bend over his desk while shoving a cactus up his ass; they would've done it in a heartbeat.
For the first time in years, the faculty actually gave a shit. Effort was put into raising the abyssal grade level, money sunk into cleaning up the grounds and buildings and to replace the outdated textbooks. And hey, if the Ward was a bit of a troublemaker, who cared? Money was money.
Olympic Valley still sucked, just marginally less so.
Except for one person. For him, Olympic Valley went from 'sucked' to 'hell' when Raymond Harper showed up. Harper wasn't like the other kids. He was hale, muscled and tanned with a white smile and sparkly eyes that made the girls swoon. He could talk and laugh and people would listen. He was the laser pointer in the kitty daycare.
And he did not like to be ignored. Those who paid him no mind were made to, sometimes with a smile and a bouncy feeling like a chestful of helium, or a frown and a headache like an ice-pick to the frontal lobe. In time, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper.
Except one.
That one was Saul Dewitt. He was quiet and awkward except when the subject was video games, a chubby teen who wore glasses and sat in the corner with either a book or a game in hand. So plain was he, the eye passed over him when he stood near a wall. When Harper had talked to him the first time, Dewitt had made a disinterested noise and left, trying to keep his head down as he had for years. The second time, Dewitt had a the beginnings of a headache forming and so made his excuses and left.
No matter what Raymond Harper did, Saul Dewitt would not pay attention to him. Him. Athlete, best looking guy in school, the best and brightest that shitty school had to offer.
That was when it started. It was small, at first. A swiped lunch here, some missing homework there. And then it got worse. An 'accidentally' spilled soda dumped into his backpack, pushing the books off his desk, tripping him in the halls and occasionally breaking into his locker to steal his games.
Saul took it to the teachers. They told him he was overreacting, that maybe he should take his nose out of his books and interact with his peers.
It didn't get better. They stole his games, stole his books, stole his homework. In gym, they'd target him, bouncing dodgeballs off his face until it bled, tripping him in the field until his hands and knees were raw.
And yet, through it all, he kept quiet. When he realized the faculty would do nothing, he clenched his teeth, squared his shoulders, and soldiered on in stoic silence. He dreamed of revenge, keeping careful notes hidden under his bed, waiting for the day that someone, anyone, cared enough to look closer and see his suffering.
Nobody did.
And it got worse. He was pushed down the stairs, dislocating his shoulder. Rusty tacks slipped in his shoes, his lunches stolen or soiled. A door was slammed on his foot, nearly breaking it if not for the half-rotten doorway.
And through it all, blinding pain in his head, like nails were being driven into his skull, his skin flayed by knives of glass.
And then, one day. It stopped. For the first time in ten months, nothing happened. Saul was left alone, sitting in the back of his classes, afraid to relax lest a possum jump out of his backpack.
When the school day ended, the crowd of students marching onto busses as exhaust thickened the air, as he left it all behind, Saul allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief and the tiniest glimmer of hope that the day was a portent of things to come.
That was a mistake.
Halfway home, Raymond Harper and two of his closest cronies ambushed him outside of an electronics recycling facility. Under his direction, they bundled the other teenager into a skip full of broken and old technology, stealing his phone, his wallet, and his backpack before dumping him inside and slamming it shut.
The final, echoing click of a lock being secured sealed his fate.
…
I would say this is the worst day of my life. It started out better than usual; my aunt had grabbed a box of my favorite cereal last night, I'd just finished BioShock again on Hard, and my pirated copy of [Prototype] had come in the mail. I can see why the guy sold it to me at such a steep discount. A normal city ravaged by monsters that tore people to shreds and a cape that kept making things worse? No, of course a world constantly suffering from Endbringer attacks would want to buy games about normal people getting completely fucked over by giant monsters.
Definitely a fun game, though.
And when I got to school, all my things were in my locker (not that I kept anything important in there after the fifth time it was broken into), no one tried to trip me or knock my books off my desk, and I was even able to eat lunch without finding a dirty pair of socks in my sandwich.
I should've fucking known it was too good to be true, but fuck me, right? This is what I get for allowing myself the mistake of hope. Thrown into a skip full of old electronics, locked inside and left to die. I'd pounded my hands bloody by this point and screamed myself hoarse, but no one was coming. What good is a world full of superheroes when no one saves you?
I asked myself that question years ago, when my parents died in a car accident. It would've been easier if it were an Endbringer attack or a throw-down between capes but nope, a faulty brake-line and sixty miles into a concrete and divider and bam! Instant orphan.
I love Aunt Cecilly, I really do, but she works so hard and so long just to keep the house and keep us fed that I rarely see her. Occasionally I'll wake up in time to hear her car drive off or stay awake late enough to feel her kiss my cheek at night, but beyond that I might as well be living alone. How could I, in good conscience, pile more stress on her shoulders? What kind of nephew would I be?
I guess I'll be a dead one, come morning. I can't allow myself to hope that they'll check these containers before they start crushing, even though that's definitely protocol.
All I can really do is get comfortable on a bed of sharp corners and flat surfaces and try to rest while the tears on my cheeks and the blood on my hands dries.
And maybe, just maybe allow myself to dream that when morning dawns, I'll be let out, so I can call the police and have them arrest Raymond fucking Harper.
And maybe my ass will sprout wings and fly me into space. Weirder things have happened.
…
Well, that dream was bullshit. I can hear the whining of hydraulics, the shifting electronics pushing me back until I'm flush against a metal wall. Somehow, the rectangular devices have moved in such a way that they're locked together, creating a tiny bubble around me. It won't last.
If I seem calm, I'm not. I'm screaming, desperately, trying to tell them that someone's inside the container, that I'm in here! And you're KILLING ME! Whether it's the sound of the engine or the snapping metal and plastic, they can't hear me.
Oh hey, an Xbox 360, locked as the centerpoint of my little bubble. I wonder why someone threw that away? I'd heard the horror stories about the red rings, but I'd never had the problem. I'm pretty sure technology loves me.
Then, the bubble shifts, squeezing down on the console and it bursts, a searing pain erupting in my stomach. Looking down is a pain for several reasons, but the disc embedded in my stomach with a smirking white-haired protagonist looking up at me is the last straw. I have done nothing WRONG. I kept my head DOWN. I didn't bother ANYONE. And now HERE I AM, DYING. Here I am, SCREAMING for them to let me out, BEGGING to be saved.
Through the raw screaming coming from my throat and the burning agony in my stomach, something, somewhere, snaps into place. Something that should've been there all along, but just now came back, bringing with it a screen of black passing over my eyes. Snapping back from the dark, strength fills my body and I turn to face the metal wall of the container, the crushing electronics parting like water as I reach out with my right hand and sink my fingers into the metal.
It parts like tinfoil as I tear a hole large enough to fit through and then I'm out, spilling onto the gravel-covered ground with a pained grunt. Standing up doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would, and looking down at my injury reveals a ragged, bloody hole in my sweater and nothing else. Pulling the sweater up shows my stomach, still as flabby as ever, but unmarked beyond the blood.
…The hell? Things like that don't just heal out of nowhere, and even my lifebar's taken a hit! That doesn't-wait, what?
I look up and yup, there's a lifebar missing a little chunk of health. Given that it was a disc embedded in my stomach, I feel it should've done more damage. But on the other hand, I'm not in agonising pain anymore, so there's that.
Also, my right hand seems to be demonic, made of some kind of blue-white energy covered by red plates. That's…exactly what Nero from Devil May Cry 4 has…which was the game that was stabbed into me. I…I need to sit down, and I'm not going to do it in the place I was nearly killed.
…
I hid my hand in my sweater and ran home, but about halfway there, I noticed I wasn't getting tired. Sure, I was breathing hard, but I wasn't tired. I felt like I could keep running all day, which was beyond weird. And even that was small potatoes compared to what happened next.
Capes or parahumans, whatever you want to call them, have always been interesting to me. Never as interesting as my games, but still interesting enough that I follow a few on the PHO and read the interviews. I know enough about them to realize that what happened to me, that sensation of something snapping into place while I was about to die… That was a Trigger Event. That means I, Saul Dewitt…am a cape. A parahuman.
That…that's hard to swallow. I may or may not have slipped and ate shit when I realized it, but the surprise and dread was overcome by shock and joy at the thought; I have powers. I can be a superhero.
…I can get revenge on Raymond Harper.
But first, I need to know what I can do. No, wait, first is find out where that game went, because I don't remember seeing it anywhere around me. Pulling my sweater up shows me my undamaged stomach and poking it reveals nothing further, except that it's a tad sore. My fingers brush over my skin around the area where the wound should be and a section depresses under them, bringing with it a familiar sound as a disc tray extends from my stomach.
Hurk. I…I think I might hurl. That…that's…that is fucked. Up. How am I even still alive?! There's a hole in my STOMACH! I'd sit down, but I'm afraid that'd make it worse, somehow.
It takes a few minutes and some screaming into my pillow to realize that, while having a disc tray coming out of my stomach is freaky as FUCK, it doesn't actually hurt. Poking it doesn't make it hurt, either, and the picture of Nero on the disc along with Dante looking up at me is like a taunt, especially since my hand's returned to normal. Sticking my fingers inside, after slapping myself in the face in the hope that it would stop my hands from shaking, reveals that the inside feels like a console.
That's good. I really didn't want feel my guts, that would've been bad. I probably would've fainted.
The funny thing is, there's open space in my stomach tray. Enough room for three games. Removing DMC 4, I tap the tray and it closes with a click and feeling my stomach once again shows nothing out of the ordinary. And then, words flash across my vision.
BOOT SYSTEM
"Boot system?" I mutter aloud, jumping as the words flash and disappear, replaced by TUTORIAL and START. "Tutorial?"
"WELCOME TO YOUR POWER OPERATING SYSTEM OR 'P.O.S.' FOR SHORT."
"Can the font be smaller?" Also, where's this coming from? Is it building a tutorial based on my experiences?
"This system allows you to access your powers, which are dependent on the discs inserted in the tray. Only three discs are allowed at a time. While playing, experience is gained through leveling up characters, completing quests and achieving milestones. These will give you experience for your own leveling systems."
A bar flashes at the top of my vision, completely empty. Oh come on, that's bullshit, I'm almost sixteen! I should get some points for living!
"Leveling up grants Trait Points, which will allow you to enhance or buy traits, with three available at all times. They are:
Carry Over - 20% of a character's Physical Capabilities are retained after turning system off or switching games. (Cannot be removed)
Empty Slot
Empty Slot
Traits may be selected from the Trait Menu or purchased at the Trait Store. Due to Life Experience, you have gained one Trait Point."
My experience bar flashes and fills, letting out a corona of light and a soft fwoosh. Level One reached! Trait Point Gained! Automatically, the Trait Store opens and a list of Traits drop down in front of me. One that immediately catches my eye is called Abyssal Auction, which would give me access to an multidimensional shop. An multidimensional shop where I could buy games from other realities.
I didn't even hesitate to buy it and slot it in to the second empty space. "Welcome to the Abyssal Auction! For your first visit, you may purchase one item free of charge!" That sounds useful, but I have no idea what I might need to buy, so I'll keep that in my pocket until I need it.
"This has been your P.O.S. Tutorial. Good luck!"
And then it's gone, leaving me a lot of questions with no answers. Guess I'll just have to use the scientific method; i.e. throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks. First things first: BioShock. I am definitely trying that one first.
Opening my disc tray is still fucking weird, but then removing the DMC4 disc and replacing it with BioShock brings with it anticipation. What kind of powers can I access? Will I able to use all the Plasmids or the Tonics?
Closing the tray, I expect something to pop up, like a message or something, but nothing happens. Did…did I break my powers? Already? "Uh, BioShock?" I ask aloud. Nothing. "Access BioShock? Access Game: BioShock?"
I jump as my vision pulses and suddenly I have a red health bar, with a blue EVE bar underneath. That's awesome, but they're both small; like, beginning of the game, small. But I just beat the game yesterday! I had all the Plasmids and Tonics I needed for a completely broken character! That's not fair!
I slap myself in the face. None of this is fair, dipshit. Less complaining, more understanding. Alright, so I don't have any saved games on this console…myself. God that's so weird. So, I just have to…hook myself up to a TV and play the games…somehow.
I really hope A: I don't have to stick my dick in a TV, and B: I really hope it doesn't teleport me into the game world, that would suck mightily.
As soon as I think about connecting to a TV, something extrudes from my stomach, hanging limply against my flesh. Looking down, I find it's an HDMI cord coming from my skin. O…kay then. Guess that answers that question…in the weirdest way possible.
Unplugging my Xbox and plugging myself in, there's no start screen or menu, the game's immediately on the screen, waiting for me to start, so I do. Jack talks about how special he his, crashes the plane and swims up to the surface, whereupon I take control and swim his ass out of the ocean…but I don't have a controller. I'm just curling my hands around empty space like I'm holding something, and that seems to work so I'm not going to question it.
I will admit that while the introduction to Rapture is quite amazing, it's really long and I want to see if I get lightning powers. I have the game set to easy since I'm trying to be quick, so I grab the wrench and beat in a Splicer's head before dashing towards the Gatherer's Garden and watching as Jack injects himself with the strange goo. While he screams in pain, my arms tingle and I look down to find electric-blue veins crawling up my arms under my skin.
That. Is fucking. RAD. I can shoot lightning out of my hands…I think. I jump as the text flashes across my vision: "Gained Electrobolt Plasmid! +2 experience!" Only two? Christ, leveling up is going to take a long time if that's all I get. "Gained First Power! +10 experience!" Alright, that's a little better. Not by much, though.
I need someplace to test this out, and there's no better place than the basement with one dusty window and old furniture. So excited to go, I forget I'm hooked up to my TV and nearly pull the damn thing out of the wall. It stings a little, which is better than getting my cord yanked out.
Unhooking myself, I jump down the steps, promptly slip on the carpet and eat shit in the living room, banging my head against the coffee table. It hurts, but not as badly as it should and my health bar takes a hit. I should be playing with BioShock rules, so hopefully I can eat a Twinkie and be good to go. I myself am not a fan of Twinkies, but my Aunt fucking loves the yellow creme-filled cakes so there's always a decent supply in the house.
Opening a cupboard, I grab a creme-filled cake and scarf it down and yup, my health refills slightly. Nice. I hope that means I can get hit by a car or shot a couple of times and I won't die as long as I have health and can eat some food.
Test complete, I continue down the stairs, flicking on the basement light and closing the door behind me. There's only a single flickering bulb, the support beams of the house and the ventilation system overhead, and a pile of dusty furniture in the corner. Otherwise, it's all bare concrete.
Before I can let fly with the lightning, there's something I need to find out. My powers, as they are, effectively make my life like that of a game. Does that mean I can save and load? Time to find out. Clearing my throat, I say, "Save game."
Saving… …Done.
Sweet. I take two steps to the left, then announce, "Load game." My vision goes black except for the text Loading… …Done. And suddenly, I'm back in the spot I started.
This…has potential. So, so much potential. But it also raises the question, does it load automatically if I die, or do I need to be alive to manually load my save. Honestly, I'd rather not find out.
Turning to the bare concrete wall, I thrust my hand forward, blue lightning leaping from my fingertips with a sharp buzz to leave a deep scorch in the rock.
Yes. Yes…YES! I have power! I have POWER! Look the fuck out, Raymond Harper, the hunter is about become the hunted.
But first, I need more plasmids. And Gene Tonics. And games.
…
It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.
The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show skin covered in angry red sores and what looked like honeycomb. And where those…bees?
"Hey fuckers, remember me?" he called, smiling like a shark. "Bet you will now!"
That said, he threw his arms up with open palms, releasing a dark buzzing cloud of stinging insects that swarmed over the student body. Screams of pain and fear rang out as they bit and stung every inch of skin while Saul stood in the middle of the chaos with his hands proudly on his hips, grinning like a lunatic.
Watching perfect Raymond Harper shout and slap at himself as bees covered his skin was a moment the newly-triggered parahuman would enjoy for the rest of his life. Seeing his classmates dropping under the agony and (look up what bee stingers carry), Saul shook his head and sighed. "One more time! Load game!"
Loading… …Done
It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.
The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show veins pulsing with blue energy beneath the skin. And was that…lightning at his fingertips?
"Hey Harper, remember me?!" He called, baring his teeth in rictus smile. "You're about to!"
He threw a hand up, fingers splayed as lightning leaped from his palm to strike Harper, the other teen crying out and falling to the ground, shuddering as sparks crackled along his body.
Saul paused, looking around at all the students in confusion. There was no screaming or crying or anyone trying to attack him, they just sat there with dopey expressions, like someone had just hit them over the head with a stick. "The hell?" He said aloud, poking a nearby girl in the face. She moaned tiredly, but didn't react beyond that. His eyes were drawn back to the high table as Raymond Harper rose from the ground, his teeth gritted in pain. Around him, the students began to stir.
Saul hit him another Electrobolt and the concussed faces returned. He grimaced in thought and shook his head. "I need more data," he muttered to himself before announcing, "Load Game!"
Loading… …Done
It was a normal day at Olympic Hills. Kids went to class, teachers taught and everywhere he went, everyone paid attention to Raymond Harper, and he knew it. From his smug, knowing smile to the tilt of his chin that let him metaphorically look down on everyone; as well as literally from his high table in the cafeteria, which doubled as a stage for rallies and announcements. Teachers typically sat there, but that had changed over time; now, those seats were held by Harper and his favored cronies of the day.
The atmosphere died with the slam of the cafeteria doors as they flew open and bounced off the walls, the loud clap echoing through the room and shattering the reverie. Saul strode in confidently, ignoring his blood-stained sweater to give a murderous glare, his sleeves rolled up to show a strange red film covering his skin almost as if he had dipped his hands in jam up to the elbow.
"Hey, Harper," he called almost conversationally, a misshapen ball forming from his skin, filled with an odd red liquid. "Catch!"
The ball impacted Harper's chest, bursting and dousing him in the red juice. An enraged scream erupted from his lips and everyone in the cafeteria doubled over, clutching their heads as a spike of pain was driven through their skulls. The teen on his left, a Latino with spiky blue hair, fell from his seat, twitching and juddering as blood ran from his eyes, ears and nose.
Saul dropped in the center of the cafeteria, his eyes clenched as blinding agony exploded in his eyes, his knees giving out from the strain. Subconsciously, he recognized his lifebar dropping sharply.
After a few minutes, he managed to open his eyes, finding most of the student body writing on the floor whole Raymond Harper stood above him, his face twisted with rage. He lashed out with his foot, kicking the chubbier teen to the floor, standing on him with a shoe pressed on his neck. "You…" He growled.
"…You're a cape," Saul muttered in realization.
Harper panted, his eyes narrowing. "And so are you," he murmured before smiling. It was not a nice smile. "You just Mastered me, in front of witnesses. They'll corroborate my story, how you hit me something that made me lose control of my power." He looked down at Saul with a wide grin. "That makes you the villain…so, any last words, villain?"
"Yeah," the gamer gritted out, his veins pulsing with energy as he loosed a bolt of lightning into Harper. "You're a dick! Load Game!"
Loading… …Done
Harper was a cape. Harper was a fucking. Cape! One who could cause pain somehow, like an asshole telepath. I still wanted to see Harper fucking burn, but I couldn't go in blind. I needed to do some research. So, to the library I went. With everyone at lunch, it would be empty enough that I could search in peace.
…
Well that was a waste of time. I'd looked all over the internet and while there were plenty of capes who could cause pain, half of them were female, older and/or dead. There was one that looked promising, a vigilante around Seattle named 'Painbringer'- which was a stupid goddamn name, I mean seriously -but he'd been caught and 'Caged a while ago.
So, either the PRT didn't know about him or he was new. Both worked and were practically the same thing. I might have to handle this myself, then. And by myself I mean the full extent of the law.
Only problem was, I didn't have my phone. Guess that means I'd have to run back, dammit. But first…
I kicked in the cafeteria doors, striding in with my head back and my hands alight with fire. "Hey Harper!" I shouted, "I've got a hot treat for ya!"
…
Now, I was like any other American; I knew the legal system by movies, shows and video games and I knew they took some liberties with the law, like Jason Voorhees took liberties with teenagers. And that meant…I needed to get my aunt involved in this. Being a paralegal isn't the most rewarding job, but with long hours the salary can be stretched enough to cover our needs, and it's not like Aunt Cecilly has had the time to look for another job.
There were times when I really hated my parents. For going out so often, for keeping a crappy car that had 'nostalgia value' instead of working brakes…and for leaving me with Aunt Cecilly in a too-expensive house with no funds. I missed them, really badly, but sometimes…sometimes it felt like they died on purpose.
Anyway, I discovered something amazing and frightening at the same time. Aunt Cecilly would come home really late, so I'd been fucking around with my powers. I put in Fallout 3 and after the opening, the character creation screen came up…and the character looked exactly like me. I'd tried many, many times over the years to create myself in RPGs and it was a pain in the ass. I could usually make the character look similar, but not exactly like me, so this was unusual, to say the least.
And, as a joke, I selected female instead of male, just to see how I looked…then instantly switched it back.
That was when I learned that games with character creation would affect me as well, which made sense…in the weird way that all powers make sense, I guess. Given that I literally became the character of the game and games like Fallout let you create a character…it definitely had potential. I could make my nose a little smaller, my lips a little thicker and trim my stomach, even give myself a six-pack.
Also disguises, but the part where I could make myself look better was more important. I just needed to find a game with a more in-depth character creation.
I looked up as the door opened and Aunt Cecilly stepped in, tiredly brushing her hair out of her face. She paused in the doorway, surprised to see me awake at this time of night. "Hey sweetie, what are you still doing up?" she asked carefully, reaching out to feel my forehead, "Are you sick?"
"No, auntie, there's something…something I need to tell you," I said quietly, feeling my mouth go dry and hearing my heart pounding in my ears. "I…I, um, I'm…"
"Are you gay, sweetie?" Aunt Cecilly questioned quietly.
I gave her a stunned look. "What?" I asked uncomprehendingly before bursting out in laughter. "No, no, I'm not gay, I'm uh, I have…superpowers."
"Oh, that's a relief, I thought I misread you for such a long time…" She paused, running over my admission a few times. "Wait, superpowers? You mean like…uh, flying bird-guy? Hawkman?"
"Raptor, auntie," I corrected her gently. "And no, I can't fly…at least I don't think so. My power's a little more…weird."
Cecilly gave me an alarmed look, so I pressed the button on my stomach (not that one) and my disc tray slid open. BioShock, Fallout 3 and Halo 3 sat inside.
"Hurk," she let out a choked gasp, going pale. Slowly, she reached out and poked my tray gently. "Is it…does it hurt at all?" She asked worriedly.
"No," I giggled slightly, "I'm a little ticklish, though."
Aunt Cecilly smirked at me, her fingers digging into my sides. "You think I don't know that, little man? You think I forgot all the times I tickled you so hard you nearly peed?" she asks, tickling me fiercely.
"Auntie! Stoppit! You'll break my disc tray!"
She paused. "That sounds weird. But it won't save you now!" She resumed her attack, ruthlessly brushing aside my struggles while laughing aloud.
I think, after spending so much time barely seeing each other, we were both glad to spend some quality family time, even if it was in the middle of a serious conversation. "Auntie, don't make me do it," I warned breathlessly, trying to give her a glare and failing miserably. "I'll break it out."
Her expression was horrified. "You wouldn't!" She gasped in disbelief.
"Oh you bet I would…Aunty Silly," I announced dramatically.
'Aunty Silly' swooned mockingly, a giggle escaping as she moved in for a hug, her stomach bumping against my disc tray. In silence, we watched it close with a click before mutually deciding to ignore it. "I miss this," she murmured, her arms squeezed around me. "I swear, sometimes…"
She stiffens, her fingers digging into my shoulders. There it is.
Aunt Cecilly drew back, her face wan. "I may not keep my finger on the pulse of heroics," she said shakily, licking her lips nervously. "But I've heard about Trigger Events. Please tell me you just got frustrated with a difficult level or something."
Her eyes were pleading, almost desperate as her hands clutch my shirt.
All of sudden, I didn't know what to say. I knew what to say, but the words escaped me in that moment. "…No," I said softly, my throat thick. "You know those…those containers. The ones they put electronics in? To recycle?"
Her eyes went wide. "I've seen them when I drive by," she answered faintly.
"Well, last night they…" It came back to me, even though I wished it wouldn't. Rough hands yanking my backpack off, stripping away my wallet and phone while another pair covered my mouth. My struggles as they dragged me into the lot, their laughter as they heaved me inside and slammed the lid shut, even as I pleaded. Sitting in the dark, the pain in my hands growing as I pounded on the metal, screaming for them to let me out. And then…
It took me awhile to realize I'd been moved to the couch, my aunt hugging my head to her chest as I shivered and cried silently.
There are a lot of reasons I hate Raymond Harper. What he did to me that day…outweighs all of them.
Haltingly, I managed to speak. "They…they locked me inside one. I yelled…screamed…begged for them to let me out. When I realized they weren't coming back, I kinda…passed out."
"Passed out?" Aunt Cecilly asked in disbelief, "Why didn't you try to call me? Why didn't you try to call anyone?"
"They stole my phone, wallet and backpack," I snapped back sharply, instantly feeling a pang of guilt at her hurt face. "S-sorry, I just…"
"I know," she murmured, brushing her fingers through her hair, "Take your time, sweetie."
I swallowed heavily. "I woke up…I woke up when they started crushing. And I-I…" I couldn't say it. To this day, those few panicked, screaming minutes still weigh on me like a rotten cow carcass. "I Triggered and ripped a hole in the container. Then, I ran home and I've been waiting for you."
"Saul…" she used my first name; never a good sign. "You're saying…someone tried to kill you?" Her face was nearly bone-white and I still worry about her health. "Who would do that?!"
I licked my lips nervously. "I-uh, I think I know who."
Aunt Cecilly gazed at me searchingly. "…Who?" she asked lowly, her expression murderous.
"Well, to understand why…I've kinda been…uh, bullied…pretty badly."
Her expression might as well have been carved from stone. "How long?"
"About, um…nine months…?" I'd seen quite a few scary things in my life. My Aunt's enraged visage tops pretty much all of them.
"Almost a year." It wasn't a question. "Saul…sweetie. Why the hell wouldn't you tell me this?!" she shrieked. "I would've done something! Anything!"
I sat up, meeting her incredulous, angry and disappointed expression. "How could I?!" I asked, frustration leaking into my voice. "You do so much! You work so hard I barely see you! You're so tired from all you do just to keep us fed and in this big, empty house, how could I consider myself a good nephew if I piled my problems on your shoulders?!"
Her hands cupped my cheeks, her lips warm against my forehead. "Saul," she started, pained tears running down her cheeks, "I know I'm not your mother, I know I can never replace her, but sweetie…I'm your aunt. Your guardian. My whole job is fixing your problems! It's what I'm supposed to do!"
"I know," I muttered thickly, wet shame burning in my eyes. "I thought…I thought I could deal with it. I thought if, maybe I kept my head down, it would all go away. But…it didn't. It just got worse and worse."
"Sweetie," Aunt Cecilly gently lifted my chin so that we were looking at each other. "I will make this better, I swear. Just, please, tell me everything you can remember. I need all I can get to nail this bastard to a wall."
"I actually have notes," I admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "I uh, thought they might come in handy."
She chuckled softly, kissing my brow again. "You're not wrong, but I need to hear it from you."
So she did. And I told her everything.
…
Later that night I lay in bed, too tired to move but too awake to fall asleep. Telling my aunt everything was taxing, though not as much as talking about my attempted murder. She cried a bit more and I'm not ashamed to admit that I did, too, but afterwards that murderous expression came back. She ordered a pizza for dinner and then went into her room to make a few calls.
She was still talking after the food arrived and I brought her a plate. As far as I know, she was on the phone well into the morning.
Despite how much fun getting some super-powered revenge on Harper had been, that talk was not something I ever wanted to go through again. In the spirit of never going through that again, I said out loud, "Save Game."
Saving… …Done
And then I went to sleep.
The next few days were peaceful on my part. My aunt took a week off work and pulled me out of school just in time for my birthday. Between intense calls to her legal friends and angry calls to Harper's rep, we found the time to go out to an arcade to celebrate me turning sixteen. I kicked her ass at the actions games and she beat me handily and DDR, and we tied in the racing games. Like, every race we tied. It was honestly kinda weird.
She also got three prizes out of a claw machine three times in a row, and I'm still convinced she hacked the machine, because otherwise that is some sort of magic.
In the days between, I kept playing my games, finishing off BioShock and diving into Fallout. I decided to go for a sneaky charismatic type, since I'm neither and the stealth is completely broken, especially with the Chinese stealth suit plus the Shady Hat.
I learned more about guns then I ever wanted to by playing Call of Duty, and funnily enough Guitar Hero's mechanics didn't just apply to guitar. I even broke out an old keyboard and played the Maple Leaf rag. From my aunt's point of view, my fingers were blazing across the keys. From mine…I was pressing one or two keys every second and the song was just coming out.
Easy mode was fucking hilarious.
Not so hilarious was something I discovered a day later. "MOTHERFUCKER!" I really should've realized it sooner, but I was so excited at just having superpowers that I overlooked something that should've been really obvious.
"Language!"
"English!" I called back, rubbing my face and growling, partially because I could rub my face, "God dammit."
"What's wrong, sweet-woah," my aunt paused in my doorway, gazing up at me in surprise. It's not everyday you walk into someone's room and find them nearly two feet taller and built like brick. "Testing your powers some more?"
"Yeah," honestly, I probably shouldn't have told Aunt Cecilly about the extent of my powers; the less she knows and all that. The problem is, I love my aunt. A lot. And I'm still really excited about having powers; I needed to share them with someone. "I just realized something that's complete bullshit."
"Language," she replies automatically. "What's up?"
"English," I shot back, holding up Halo 3, "See this guy? He's called the Master Chief. Right now, I'm him. Notice something wrong?"
"You're not wearing the armor."
"I'm not wearing the armor," I agreed, frowning.
Aunt Cecilly folded her arms, leaning against the doorway. "So, your power lets you use a character's physical capabilities, but not their equipment…" she grimaced, "That makes sense, but it is bullshit."
"Language," I said teasingly, before sighing, "Yeah, it sucks." I opened my trait menu and scrolled through it, looking for anything that could fix that massive deficiency.
"Whatcha doin'?" My aunt asked.
"Hopefully finding a trait that will let me summon a character's gear with their abilities," I answered. To be honest, that trait would be really useful, but I wanted it mostly for one thing.
Cortana. I have, like, a massive crush on that purple AI. Yeah, some people might call that pathetic, but I like my ladies smart, snarky and capable and she fits all three, so shut up. Honestly, I might've given up on being a hero if I couldn't find something that would let me meet her.
Okay, that's an exaggeration, but not by much.
Thankfully, I did. "Ah, here's something," I sighed in relief, opening the trait description. "Allows user to summon the equipment associated with character. Good…but I can't buy it yet."
"Why not?" Aunt Cecilly asked, trying to look at my menu and failing badly. Then she lost interest in that and started poking me. "Oh wow, look at all these muscles! It's like you're chiseled out of stone!"
"Yeah, the character went through a lot of enhancements to make him a super soldier," I replied, checking my experience track. A hundred more points to go before I hit level three. "I reached level two and used the Trait Point to upgrade my Abyssal Auction trait, which gives me a discount on the things I buy."
"That's smart," she said, still poking my stomach. "That's the place you can buy games from, right?"
"Yup, and not just games from here, but other worlds, too, where they don't have Endbringers or even capes!" That still excited me, it just had so much potential! I wish I'd examined my trait list a little more carefully, though. I looked down to find my aunt digging her fingers into my sides, looking very put out when nothing happened. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to tickle you," she pouted, crossing her arms. "What kind of enhancements did this guy get?"
"Increased bone strength and density, sharper vision and night vision, enhanced muscular structure and nervous system. He's super strong, super fast, with unbreakable bones and beyond perfect vision," I rattled off, pausing when I noticed Aunt Cecilly staring at me. "What?"
"All that, and armor?" she asked incredulously. "Isn't that a bit much?"
I paused and gave her a dry look. "Olympia, Leviathan."
Auntie paled. "Ah. Right. Couldn't you just, I don't know, not be a hero?"
"No," I said bluntly. "There hundreds, thousands, millions of people who've suffered far more than I have, and didn't get powers out of it. What kind of person would I be if let them suffer when I have the ability to help?"
She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. "Stop being smart, video games are supposed to make you dumb." Her mock glare faded and she stepped forward to hug me. "Can you promise me you'll be careful? I know I can't ask you to not get hurt, that's like asking the sun not to rise, but be careful, at least. Also stop using your powers so you'll be shorter than me."
I shut my power off, and suddenly I was back to being 5'8", wrapping my arms around my aunt. "I'll try auntie, I really will. Hopefully I'll have someone to watch my back while I'm out there."
"You want to join the Wards?" She asked carefully.
"Yeah, I don't have the experience to do it by myself. Hell, I wouldn't know where to start," I shrugged in reply.
"Well, putting that bastard away is a good place to start," she growled, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder. "Speaking of, the imposition is in two days. Are you ready?"
I sighed. "No, not really…but I'll try."
"That's all I ask."
…
The next morning, after grinding for several hours the night before, I dropped my save and prepared for the day. I still hadn't reached level three yet, but I was getting there. Truth be told, I didn't do much that day, I was too nervous to focus and I kept dying, so I switched over to the TV and watched cartoons pretty much all day.
I did make dinner though. Pork chops, baked potatoes and salad. I didn't sleep well that night and I woke up too early, only to find my aunt leaning against the counter, staring at nothing and sipping black coffee. She jumped slightly when I opened the fridge and offered her the creamer.
Breakfast was simple and eaten in silence. Afterwards, I took a shower and dressed in my second nicest clothes. I would've dressed in my third nicest clothes, but it had a huge bloody hole in the stomach.
And then we left, heading to the meeting with Harper and his rep. My aunt hoped to settle this out of court by making them pay for damages and therapy, and also tossing his ass in the slammer forever, hopefully.
The meeting…did not go well. Harper sat at the other end of the table with a woman in a smart business suit, both looking incredibly smug, for good reasons as it turned out. All my notes? Circumstantial. Getting targeted in gym? Simple roughhousing. Getting pushed down the stairs?
"Oh your nephew is well known as a reader, it's possible he simply wasn't aware of where he was going because he was focused on his books."
I was fairly certain my aunt was about to cross the table and smack a bitch and I wasn't far behind. Every step we made, we got knocked back two. I was about ready to break out BioShock and unleash the bees when…I started feeling good.
It was like all the pain was gone. The soreness in my back, the tiny little aches that come from just living, all disappeared. I felt like I could simply float away like a balloon, leaving all my problems behind. I didn't know what they were saying but I was nodding along, I just felt so good.
And then I realized something was wrong. My limbs felt like they were made of pretzels wrapped in marshmallow, my eyelids were so heavy I felt like I could fall asleep and never wake up. Even moving my fingers took effort, as if I was submerged in a hot tub full of molasses or wet cement.
It took all the effort I could muster just to lift my hand and drop it on the table. I could barely feel the impact, and that's when I realized: Harper can't just cause pain; he can take pain away.
And he was using his powers on Aunt Cecilly.
Of all the shit he did to me, that crossed the line. No one fucks with my aunt.
"Access Game: BioShock," I muttered, struggling to sit up as energy burned in my veins. "You sonofabitch!" Lightning shot from my fingers, impacting Harper's chest and throwing him to the floor as his rep shrieked in surprise.
As soon as he fell, it was as if a whale had dropped out of the sky onto my shoulders. All the little aches and pain returned in full force and I nearly passed out. My aunt did pass out.
"Motherfucker," I murmured, glaring at Harper as he struggled to his feet. "Load Game!"
Loading… …Done
"Motherfucker!" I sat up in, rage burning in my gut. I kicked my blanket off and turned on my computer, opening up the PHO boards and hitting the search, typing in 'hero, young, male, pain relief powers' and up popped a few. There was only one in Seattle, though.
Novacaine. The Human Painkiller. About the same height as Harper, around the same size, and the same smug smile visible just under the mask. Harper's not just a cape; he's a fucking Ward.
As far as his suit goes, it's pretty simple. A vest, gloves, pants with taped down ankles and a half mask that covers the eyes. On both the mask and his shirt is a nova, and he carries a heavy cane as his weapon of choice. Nova. Cane. I did, in fact, see what he did there. That fucking prick.
I needed to call the PRT. I'd hoped, for some stupid reason, to keep this quiet. I don't know why the fuck I did that, maybe to lessen the burden on my aunt?
That was stupid.
"Seattle PRT Offices, how can I help you?" A bored sounding receptionist answered.
"I'd like to report a Ward unlawfully using powers on civilians," I said politely.
"Which Ward and where?" the receptionist replied, the tapping of keys filtering through the phone.
"Novacaine and Olympic Valley."
"And do you have any evidence?"
…No, I didn't. "Beyond the feeling of being manipulated emotionally?"
The receptionist sighed. "Listen, if the guy never called you back, it's not our problem, alright? I'll put your complaint in and it might get looked at in a couple of weeks. Word to the wise, don't date capes, it never turns out good."
And then he hung up. What a little bastard, though I didn't exactly put my best foot forward. "Fuck, I need evidence," I growled, leaning on my hands, "Where the hell would I get some? Just saying 'the absence of pain' isn't going to do it! I need…I need someone on the inside."
"Like Henry?" Aunt Cecilly asked, and I nearly fell out of my chair in surprise. "I heard you talking and came to see what's up."
"Henry?" Henry was an acquaintance, before he fell in Harper. We hadn't exactly been friends, we were just too different, but we'd been friendly. But after months of being around that dick, he'd become Harper's chief crony. You'd think someone with his background would've realized what Novacaine was doing to him after that whole deal with his sister…
And there was my in. "Aunt Cecilly, you're a genius."
"I know, but it's nice to be recognized every once in awhile," she preened, sipping her coffee. "Want a ride? I think I still remember where he lives."
"Yes please."
…
Henry's house was a rather small two-story, with cracked yellow paint and a battered car out front, a multitude of scents wafting from within. I'd liked visiting, the few times that I did. Mrs. Delgado was one of the nicest ladies I know.
"If it isn't Saul Dewitt! Long time no see!" She greeted me cheerfully, her face creasing a wide smile. "You're still just as healthy as I remember!"
That was mom-code for: you still need to lose some weight.
My answer was a little tight, but nonetheless friendly. "Hey, Mrs. Delgado, is Henry here? I need to have a chat with him."
Her expression turned pensive and she nodded towards the stairs. "He's in his room," she said softly, "He's a little tired, so take it easy with him."
"Thanks, Missus D," I replied, brushing past her and taking the stairs two at a time. I didn't bother to knock, just pushing open the door and stepping inside. "Hey, Henry!"
The lump on the bed groaned and shifted, getting pushed aside to reveal a tall Latino boy with spiky blue hair. "What the…the hell you doin' in my room, Saul?" He scowled, rubbing his eyes. "The hell you doing at my house?"
"I need to talk to you about Harper," I said immediately. "That bastard's been doing some bad shit."
"Hey, don't you go bad mouthing my friend!" Henry shot to his feet, anger burning in his dark eyes. "Just because we were friendly once doesn't mean you can talk shit! Ray's a good guy, just because you don't like him doesn't make him a bastard!"
He stood up and pushed me back, the feeling of his hands triggering a memory. "You," I said lowly, glaring at him. "You were there, you bastard."
His eyes twitched. "The hell you talkin' 'bout?"
"You were there that night!" My fist rushed out to crash against his jaw. "You son-of-a-bitch! You and that fucker Harper! You robbed me and dumped me in the junkyard and you left me to die! I almost got crushed into paste, and you're defending him? What the fuck's wrong with you?!"
Looking down at him, I was surprised to find guilt flashing across his face, but I'd made him angry and he wasn't backing down. "You come into my house, you badmouth my friend and you sucker-punch me, and now you're accusing me of murder?!" He jumped to his feet, grabbing me by the lapels and pushing me from his room. "Fuck you, man! Get the fuck out of my house! Mom, call the cops!"
I should've realized it sooner, but maybe stomping my way into his room and then accusing him of attempted murder probably wasn't going to get him to testify against Harper. What I'd set out to accomplish, I'd failed. Handily.
"Fuck me, Load Game!"
Loading… …Done
I sat up in my bed, clutching my face and resisting the urge to scream. Why wasn't it working?! What more could I do?!
The answer, in hindsight, was pretty obvious: I had superpowers. I needed to use those powers to my advantage. I'd been going after Harper and Henry as myself, when I had the charisma of a partially-cooked fish-stick. But, I had started a Fallout 3 character who min-maxed Charisma and Intelligence, and I dumped most of my points in barter and stealth. Mostly because I was fucking around.
It should be said that I'd had my powers for less than a week, and all I'd thought about using them for was fighting; in truth, there were many problems that could be solved with the right words. I just didn't know that.
"Access Game: Fallout 3," I muttered, my vision rippling as the HUD appeared. Looking over my past few attempts now, I could see where I'd gone wrong and how to fix them. I wondered how I could've been so dumb. Good thing I dumped my stats in INT, because I desperately need it.
"You alright, sweetie?" Aunt Cecilly asked from my doorway.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, standing up from my bed, "I need to go talk to someone, see if they can help us."
"Who?" She asked curiously, sipping her coffee.
"Henry Delgado," I replied, scratching my chin. "He's one of Harper's stooges, but I doubt he knows what Harper can do. If he did, I think he might kill him."
My aunt arched an eyebrow curiously. "Why?"
"Because Harper's cape name is Novacaine. He can make people feel pain, or take it away," I said softly, pulling on a sweater. "He's a human painkiller."
Her eyes widened. "Oh. Katarina…" she murmured, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "Do you want me to drive you? I think I remember where they live."
I opened my mouth to accept, but paused and thought. "Actually, I think I'll walk there, figure out what to say on the way."
…
"Oh, if it isn't Saul Dewitt! Long time no see!" Mrs. Delgado greeted me with a wide smile. "You've lost weight, and have you gotten taller?"
"I have, actually," I said politely, standing on the top step with my hands in my pocket. "Do you mind if I come in? I'm sorry to impose on you so early, but I have something serious to talk to you about."
"What is it?" She gasped, "Did something happen at school? Is…does it have something to do with Henry?"
"A bit yeah," I bit my lip in thought. "[89%] Have you…noticed anything off about Henry recently?"
Mrs. Delgado peeked outside of the door and looked around before inviting me in. I took my shoes off and left them by the door, accepting a cup of coffee as I sat on the couch. "I'm very worried," she admitted, folding her hands in her lap. +2 Exp. "He hasn't been himself for awhile but I thought it was just angst or moodiness, but now…"
I sipped my coffee pensively. "Has he told you about his friend, Raymond Harper?"
"Oh, all sorts of things, he seems like a really nice boy," she replied with a smile, before her expression turned worried, "Why do you mention him?"
"[78%] Are you aware that he's a cape?" I asked by way of reply.
She looked around nervously, leaning close to whisper, "I am, but we're not supposed to talk about it, it could be dangerous for him." +2 Exp.
"Okay, so you know he has powers, but do you know what it is?" Her shaking head answered that. "Before I tell you that, you need to know something important. I think Henry was Mastered."
Mrs. Delgado gasped in horror, her hands flying up to her mouth. "No, not my son," she murmured. "Who? Who would do such a thing?"
I said nothing and let her draw her own conclusion. Eventually, her eyes widened in understanding and I nodded. "[89%] Raymond Harper. He Mastered your son…and possibly a lot of other people as well."
"No," she whispered, "That can't be true…can it?" +2 Exp.
"I think Henry needs to be involved in this conversation, Mrs. D," I said, setting my mug aside. "I really hope I'm wrong about this, but if I'm not…"
"Saul?" Henry yawned, stumbling down the stairs. "The hell you doin' here?"
"Language!" Mrs. Delgado snapped, and I resisted the urge to reply. "Sit down miho, we need to have a serious talk."
The Latino boy glanced between me and his mother curiously before plopping down on an armchair, rubbing the bags under his eyes. "What's going on, momma? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She nodded to me and I turned to him. "Henry, when you're around Raymond…how do you feel?" I asked carefully.
"What kinda question is that?" he replied indignantly, looking at me with narrowed eyes.
"Answer the question, miho!" his mother said worriedly, playing with the hem of her apron, "This…this is serious, Henry. I won't judge you, but I need to know."
Henry glanced between us nervously, clenching his fists before relaxing with a sigh. "I…feel really good when I'm around him, mamma," he admitted slowly, looking at the carpet. "Like…like I can walk on air. Like nothing can bother me."
Mrs. Delgado gasped again, paling dramatically. "Miho, no," she whimpered, wringing her hands.
"It's not like that!" he protested quickly, "I just…I just feel good, okay? Why's it such a big deal?"
"Did you know, about a week ago, I got mugged?" I interjected, getting curious looks at the seeming non-sequitur. I saw a flash of guilt in Henry's eyes. "A couple of guys roughed me up on the way home after school. They stole my backpack, my wallet and my phone, and locked me inside a electronic recycling container."
Henry's guilt was almost palpable, though his mother was too busy looking at me to notice. "That's terrible, Saul, but why do you bring it up?" She asked.
"Because, after I got locked in, I tried to get out for…hours. Until I fell asleep from exhaustion. And then I woke up, because they started crushing," I continued emotionlessly.
Henry shot up in his seat, white as a sheet. "But he was supposed to-!" he paused when he noticed his mother staring at him in shock and disappointment. "It was…it was just a prank mamma," he protested weakly. "No one was supposed to get hurt."
"'Supposed to get hurt?'" She nearly shrieked. "Miho, you nearly killed someone! And not just someone, a friend! Why would you do this?!"
"Ray thought it'd be funny!" Henry replied desperately. "We'd just lock him in for a little bit, make him squirm a little, then let him go!" He turned to me. "Ray let you out, right? That's how you're here, yeah?"
I shook my head. [92%] " No, I got out because I Triggered and managed to escape," I said bluntly. "Henry, Raymond wasn't trying to play a prank. He was trying to kill me. If I hadn't Triggered…I'd be dead."
He paled, slumping back in his seat. "That…that's not true man, it can't be. He said…he said he'd let you out…"
"Did he also say he'd give me back my stuff?" I asked dryly. "Listen, Henry, I don't blame you. If I were in your situation, I probably would've done the same."
"What 'situation,' having friends?" he shot back acidly.
"Miho!" Mrs. Delgado snapped.
"Being Mastered," I replied calmly, and he gave me an incredulous look. "You know Raymond's a cape, right? Do you know who he is?"
Henry shook his head slowly. "No, I never did," he gulped audibly. "…Why?"
[98%] "Because Raymond Harper is a Ward called 'Novacaine,'" I answered, "He can make feel pain…or he can take pain away. He's a human painkiller."
At that word, Henry might as well have been a ghost. "You…you're saying…" +5 Exp.
"That light, carefree feeling?" It was time to drive the nail home. "Have you noticed that, when you're not around him, you feel tired, listless, pained? Like there's a huge weight on your shoulders that lifts when he's around?"
He nodded dumbly.
[95%] "That because he's gotten you addicted painkillers, to him, his presence," I said lowly, "Because he is one. And not just you. Almost the entire school."
Henry leaned on his knees, pale and shaking. "How…how did I not notice?" He asked himself. "How could I forget? How could I do this…to myself? To Katarina?" +5 Exp.
I don't think I was supposed to hear him say that, but I did. "Henry, what he did to me was illegal, but what he did to you? That is monstrous. And I need your help to put him away in the deepest, darkest hole they can find."
Mrs. Delgado circled the table, taking her son in her arms. "Whatever you need, Saul," she murmured, kissing Henry's head and clutching him to her. "That-that bastard needs to pay! For what he did to my son, for what he made him do! And…and for what he did to you."
Henry nodded shakily in her arms, pushing their phone across the coffee table. "Call the police," he whispered faintly. "Call whoever, just…I'll do whatever I have to."
I nodded, picking up the phone and dialing the PRT offices. That same bored receptionist answered. "I need to speak to the Director, now," I said harshly. "I have evidence of a cape using his powers on civilians. Mastering powers. On civilians."
I got through right away.
…
Edward Peterson was a harsh-looking man with a stern, no-nonsense personality. A long scar dragged up the left side of his face, giving him a permanent sneer that made his intimidating glares almost lethal. He was typing up a memo when his phone rang. "Peterson, what is it?" He asked tiredly.
"Sir, we've got a man on the phone, says he has evidence of a cape Mastering civilians," the receptionist babbled.
Peterson narrowed his eyes. "Put him through," he ordered, listening as his ear was briefly filled with static. "This Director Peterson. You say you have evidence of a cape Mastering Civilians? Do you understand how serious this allegation is? If this is a prank…"
"It's not," a male voice replied, and he was briefly surprised to find it sounded young, "Raymond Harper's been using his pain control to get people addicted to him, to make them follow him. Not only that, he's tried to kill someone. I don't just have evidence, I have witnesses."
Peterson thought hard. "…Very well," he muttered, making a note. "Would these witness be willing to testify in person at the PRT building?"
There was a pause. "Yes, they would."
"I'll send a vehicle to pick them up. I need their names and addresses" he said, frowning in thought.
"The names are Henry Delgado, Marta Delgado along with myself, Saul Dewitt, and my aunt, Cecilly Whittaker."
Peterson shifted the phone against his ear. "And why are joining them, Mr. Dewitt?"
"Because I'm the one Raymond Harper tried to kill."
The Seattle Director gazed out of his window overlooking the Puget Sound. "I see. The vehicle will be there in thirty minutes." He hung up before dialing a number. "Raptora, I need to see you in my office, now. And bring CAT Scan with you."
He slammed the phone down, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Then, he picked the phone up again. "Novacaine, I'm sending a vehicle to get you; something important just came up." Peterson hung up and dialed once more. "Lieutenant, I'm sending you to pick up Novacaine. Have a squad toss his apartment and bring everything in."
…
The ride to the PRT building was honestly kind of boring, much like the building itself. If it wasn't for the obvious fortifications and the shimmering forcefield, it would look like any other office building. The ride was made silence, with my aunt sitting next to me, holding my hand while Henry and his mother sat opposite in the same position.
Thankfully, Aunt Cecilly's hand covered the movements I made to open my Trait menu and spend the point I gained for reaching level three on the Equipment Summoning Trait. Persuading Henry and the Director gave me enough Exp to level up, if only just barely.
Half of the shaking I did on the way was nervous disbelief that we were finally making headway in making Harper suffer. The other half…I was going to get to meet Cortana in person.
:D
At some point, anyway.
We were hustled out of the van and into an elevator, which took us up high, to the 44th floor. Then, we were lead into a wide conference room dominated by a dark wooden table. At the end sat a heavily-built man with a long scar on his face, gazing seriously at us as we entered. At his left sat Novacaine, still smiling smugly but with an edge of confusion that grew as he recognized Henry.
The shock on his face when he saw me, though…that was a picture that will last forever. If this was Harry Potter, that would be my Patronus memory.
Behind Harper stood two people; one was a tall, well-built man wearing heavy sunglasses, an image of a hawk in flight on his chest; the other was a short woman with light brown hair in a bun, wearing a jacket that looked like a cross between a doctor's coat and something out of the matrix, with a red cross on one shoulder and a cartoon cat face on the other.
I recognized two of Seattle's most famous capes. Raptora and CAT Scan. Raptora could fly really fast and had incredible vision, preferring to glide over the city to find crime before swooping down to kick some ass.
CAT Scan could take one look at you and see everything about your body, from what you ate to when you slept, and could find out what nerves she had to pinch or what place she had to poke to put you down in a second. She usually worked as a physician, though.
"Take a seat, please," Director Peterson ordered, gesturing to the chairs at his right. We sat down in silence as he folded his hands. "Henry Delgado?"
Henry looked up nervously, trying to keep from glaring at Harper. "Sir?"
"I was told that you had evidence of an extremely serious crime," he began, blinking impassively. "Is this true?"
"It is, sir," Henry gulped audibly.
"And do you know what that crime is?"
"Ray-Novacaine, used his powers on me, made me do things I wouldn't," he muttered, turning his gaze to the surface of the table.
Peterson sighed, directing a look over Harper's head at CAT Scan. "What do you see?"
Above the medical mask, her bright green eyes were like lasers. "He's suffering from symptoms of early-onset withdrawal to pain medication," she said tightly. "The chemical patterns in his brain are consistent with the other examples of Novacaine's power, as opposed to typical anesthetics. His left wrist is also sprained."
The betrayed look on Harper's face was the sprinkles on top of the sundae. "Henry," he growled, only to squeak in pain as CAT Scan put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
"I was also told that you were witness to an attempted murder," Peterson continued as if nothing happened.
"I…" Henry licked his lips. "I wasn't just a witness, I was a…participant. But I didn't think it was going to go that far, it was just supposed to be a prank!"
"What happened?" the Director asked, staring at him over his folded hands.
"We, Raymond, Shu and I, followed Saul when he was walking home," he admitted shamefully, "We waited until he reached the electronics recycling plant, and we…we jumped him. Stole his stuff and lifted him into a container. And…we locked it."
"And you did this under the direction of Novacaine?" Peterson questioned.
"Yeah. He said it'd be a funny prank, he'd stay at the plant and let him out after a couple hours. We left him there and went home," he finished, staring morosely at the table.
Peterson glanced at CAT Scan, who nodded. "He's telling the truth."
The Director sighed again, gazing at a red-faced Harper. "What's your response, Raymond?" He asked mildly. "These are serious accusations."
CAT Scan eased up on his shoulder, allowing Harper to speak but not removing her hand. "I didn't do anything!" He denied.
"Lie," Scan said quietly.
"Fine, I may've locked fat ass in the container, but I was gonna let him out! I got chased off by a guard and his dog before I could!" He hastily explained.
"Lie."
"What about the accusations of you using your power on civilians?" Peterson added calmly.
"I didn't use it anyone!"
"Lie."
"Not unless they asked me!"
"Lie."
The Director nodded. "I see. And you've been using your powers since you arrived at Olympic Valley, yes?"
"No!"
"Lie." Harper looked like he was about to explode. He thought his house was built of bricks but in reality, his house was made of cards…and they were all tumbling down.
"I see," the Director said again. "Well, I can state with full confidence in my own judgement and CAT Scan's abilities that you are guilty, Raymond, beyond any shadow of doubt. Scan, please escort him to the holding cells, Master/Stranger protocols."
"What?! No!" Harper screamed in rage and fear, trying to scramble away from the five-foot two woman. She responded by taking two fingers to the back of his neck and squeezing, while digging another under his ribs. His face went white and he stilled, allowing her to steer him to the door like a puppet. "Wait!" He wheezed, "Wait! Saul! You were supposed to die! How did you get out?"
I gazed at him evenly, before very deliberately looking away. His strangled cries were music to my ears. "Raptora, please escort the Delgadoes to our legal department, so their statements can be taken," Peterson ordered, pulling a jug of water and a glass towards himself.
Mrs. Delgado gave my shoulder a squeeze while Henry couldn't meet my eyes, the hawk-themed superhero leading them away, leaving Aunt Cecilly and myself alone with Director Peterson. He, with extreme care and precision one usually finds in a person attempting to disarm a bomb, poured a glass of water and took a deep drink.
"I understand, Mr. Dewitt, that I owe you an apology," Peterson stated flatly, his dark eyes gazing at me. "But first, I would like to know how you escaped that container."
I could feel auntie swelling like a bullfrog, building up a head of steam so I squeezed her hand and spoke candidly. "I Triggered, Director. I tore a hole in the side and escaped."
"I see," he murmured, lacing his fingers together. "And what are your powers?"
I thought about telling him everything I could do, but…they'd missed all of Harper's shit. The architect of my suffering was under their noses for years and they never found out until I called.
And yet, despite all that bullshit, I still wanted to be a hero. I just wouldn't trust them with everything I could do.
"I can summon armor and weapons from video games," I answered, tapping my fingers on the table.
"Can you show me?" He asked.
I stood from my chair, stepping back to have some space between the table and the wall. Then, I tapped my fingers on my arm like it was a controller and suddenly, I was wearing Master Chief's armor. Peterson managed to restrain himself from jumping, but only barely.
"Chief? What's going on, where are we?" Cortana asked, a note of panic in her voice.
Whoops.
I quickly de-summoned the armor and sat back down. "That was one of them."
"I see," he said again, staring at his fingers. "Can I ask if you intend to join the Wards?"
I opened my mouth to speak, but this time Aunt Cecilly squeezed my hand and stood up. "My turn, sweetie," she murmured before facing down with the Director. "I know my nephew will say yes, Director, but understand this: my nephew is the last family I have left. I love him like he's my son; hell, he might as well be! And I know that I can't stop him from joining the fight. But you were responsible for Raymond Harper. You are responsible for the months of harassment, physical threats and the near murder of my nephew!"
Peterson nodded calmly, not saying a word.
"To that end, I have some demands that must be met," she stated stonily, "You will punish that bastard to the full extent of the law. You will authorize reparations for the mental, physical and emotional trauma he has inflicted on my nephew. And…"
What more did she want? They were all things we wanted, I honestly couldn't think of anything else at the time. Except maybe breakfast.
"…You will cover our transfer to another city."
"What?" That made Peterson sit up, and I was taken by surprise as well. "Why, auntie?"
Aunt Cecilly gave me a caring but tired smile. "Sweetie, this past week, despite the terrible things, has still been one of the best I've had in a long time. I love you, sweetie, and I want to spend more time with you. And honestly, if I keep working these hours, I might have a stroke."
"You're not in danger of having a stroke," CAT Scan announced, making us jump. I hadn't heard her come in the room. "Your stress levels are high, though. I would recommend a month of relaxation, maybe more, and a high-fat low-carb diet. Your blood sugar is also on the high side."
"Uh, okay," Aunt Cecilly muttered, scratching her temple.
"What about the house, auntie?" I asked quietly. Not because I liked the house, just because I wanted to play Devil's Advocate.
"I think your parents would prefer us to be happy and healthy in an apartment to miserable and lonely in a big house," she replied softly, squeezing my hand. "When I wasn't making calls, I was looking at homes in other places. Places with similar weather, I know you like using it as an excuse to stay inside and play."
That is one of the reasons I like Seattle.
"If I may interject, ma'am," Director Peterson interrupted, "while I'm not a fan of demands being made, I agree that there is some measure of apology owed. I would be happy to authorize reparations and sign a transfer."
Unconsciously, I looked to CAT Scan, who shook her head with a small smile.
"'Happy' may be too strong a word," the Director grumbled, "but I will do it, anyway…as long as your nephew agrees."
Every head turned towards me, my aunt's eyes hopeful and her smile warm. Honestly, I kind of hate that place. It took my parents from me, it took the closest thing I had to a friend, even my aunt! I had just gotten her back, and there's no way in hell I'm letting take anything else from me.
"Let's do it," I said, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. "Let's move."
…
…
…
A/N: Chapter completed! +100 Exp! Gained new Ability: Update Worm Story!
So as you might be able to tell, this is a Worm story mixed with my own take on a Gamerfic added to the mix. You might've noticed that he isn't a Gamer, he's the Console. There are still some elements of it in the traits and leveling system, but that's about it. I've read a lot of Gamer stories and since I wanted to try my hand at one, I had to do it a bit differently or commit seppuku at the font of Somewhat Original Ideas, thus Console was born. He can carry three different discs inside him at all times and access the power of the characters at will, along with their equipment since he has that trait now.
That gives him access to some varied power sets as you might imagine. Plus the Abyssal Auction and Equipment Summoning…well, that leaves room for quite a bit of chaos, wouldn't you say?
Honestly, I don't where I'm going with this story. I've got a rough idea for the next few chapters, but beyond that…
Big thanks to NorthSouthGorem and Dairegh for all the help this chap! Give them a look!...North is the only one who actually writes, though…
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you did and you want to see more, leave a review on the way out!
Stay Awesome.
~Soleneus
P.S.: Just to be clear, I'm not a fan of grimdark. I prefer snarky grey if anything, but I'm not going to change Worm too much. Think of canon as black coffee, and this story as creamer.
Side note, what's your favorite game? Mine's Halo, and not because of the shooting and aliens. I have fond memories of playing it in the complete dark, shivering in fear as I ran through the Library with the Flood descending from all sides…it gave me nightmares for a long time, but it was still worth it.
Let me know which is your favorite, and why! Also tell me if like the story, too.
Stay Awesome Some More.
~still Soleneus