[FREE | TS] Chapter 5 - First Plans

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------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!

Listen... The Reading Samples are over, but I realized that I hadn't actually given a proper test to normal-sized chapters for TS.

So all the feedback I've received so far, which by the way was very kind and helpful, has only really been marginally relevant to the question of "Would you read this, if it was a real novel?"

So, I'll write just a few more chapters here, that are normal TAS/ND sized, to get a better generalized feedback on whether this is actually a novel you'd read, as shortened chapters can lead to people not enjoying the same content that a binge would allow.

No idea how many chapters, but don't expect them to be coming out consistently or in great numbers. TS is exclusively a "I have no more other work to do" thing.

Enjoy, and don't forget to provide feedback in the discord channel! (#other-novels -> Thread: "Put feedback for TAS in here")

I'm particularly looking for feedback on whether you are interested in a continuation, and specifically what parts got you really interested (if at all).

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To hopefully pre-empt some questions that might come up:

No, this will not replace TAS.

No, this will not replace ND.

No, it will not be a third novel alongside the other two anytime soon, as I'm maxed-out on energy/time capacity for writing with those.

Yes, it is something I'm considering as a third novel for the future.

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Now, with all that out of the way, I once again ask that you go into this with an open mind and just take it for what it is. And remember to provide targeted feedback on the things you like/dislike!

Enjoy!

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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/

I hope you will enjoy it!

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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's the GoogleDoc:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1OALfdFxMOgWcfByw2DFXyJWHuujyXyVO3Nosl2jkDlM/edit?usp=sharing

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Chapter 5 - First Plans

The footage opened on a wide aerial shot of a ruined street in Haekoz’ Central District, south-west quadrant. Asphalt had been split open on several spots, nearby storefronts shattered, scorched and half-collapsed, and the ground below was stained in long, dark smears where neon-violet blood had already begun to fade under chemical neutralizers.

On the ground, more than a hundred cleanup workers in full hazmat gear moved through the space like a hive of bees. Some hosed down the street, others shoveled and scraped residue into sealed containers, while a separate group methodically cut apart massive Vyre corpses for transport. 

The work was grim, but laughter and light conversation could also be made out among the workers as the camera-drone flew closer.

Among them, a handful of Heroes stood out—the only unsuited individuals in the footage. 

One lifted entire chunks of broken concrete. 

Another stood at the intersection, arms raised, directing high-pressure jets of water that diluted the remaining blood and washed it toward the nearby storm drains.

The steady and solemn voice-over cut in.

“Just hours ago, this street was the site of a desperate fight for survival. A surprise Vyre Incursion erupted late last night in the south-western side of Haekoz’ Central District, escalating rapidly when a Brute-class entity breached the portal as its designated Boss.

“The Incursion was contained by a patrol team of rookie Heroes, led by the local Hero known as Ironbound, a young E-Rank, Tank-type operating under the city’s own Haekoz Hero Program and signed with Bulwark Horizons. Despite overwhelming odds, the team somehow managed not only to hold the line, but to even defeat the Brute and collapse the portal before reinforcements arrived.

“Additionally, officials have now confirmed that civilian casualties were kept to a bare minimum. Several civilians were injured by debris and secondary fires, but—remarkably—no fatalities were reported that night in connection with the Vyre Incursion. A truly remarkable success, by such a young team of Heroes.”

The footage cut to a hospital room.

Ironbound sat upright in bed, his head and torso wrapped in thick bandages, one arm immobilized in a brace. 

His face was pale, but alert.

“Ironbound,” the interviewer prompted gently, “people are calling this a downright miracle. How did your team manage to pull this off?”

Ironbound let out a short, tired breath.

“Honestly? Rob and Telly did most of the work,” he said. “They kept the pressure off when it mattered. I… I almost failed them, as the Tank. We came way too close to losing everything out there… But they really held it down.”

He paused, jaw tightening.

“We were extremely lucky. I think that’s the biggest truth of how we did this...”

When asked about his teammates, his expression softened immediately.

“Please—send your best wishes to Telly,” he said. “She took the worst of it. If anyone deserves support right now, it’s her.”

The newscaster quickly echoed the sentiment, reminding viewers that the Hero Telly, a Rank-D Hybrid, remained hospitalized and in surgery but was supposedly stable.

As the interview wrapped up, Ironbound hesitated, then added one last thing.

“And… I need to say this,” he said. “Without the help of a local Vigilante, we wouldn’t have been able to hold the line. And we definitely wouldn’t have closed that portal. A lot of civilians, and my entire team, owe them our lives.”

For just a fraction of a second, emotion flickered across his face—then it was gone.

The camera cut back to the studio.

“It seems that once again,” the anchor said, “the Powered Emergency Law proved its worth—forty years after its introduction—allowing Heroes and Vigilantes to work together when it matters most, for the good of all. However large the differences between us all, what we all intrinsically know is that the Vyre are worse.”

She looked directly into the camera.

“Today, remember to thank your local Heroes for everything they do. Their tireless efforts and sacrifices, day in and day out, are what hold society together… And make sure to stay with us!—up next, a message from NovaPharm about their latest treatment, designed to help non-Powered citizens resist early-stage Vyre Corruption. Especially important right after a Vyre Incursion like this!”

The screen faded to white, and the advertisements began.

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[Excerpt from Haekoz Central News (HCN) Morning Report — 06:22 AM]

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I turned off the local news streams on my computer that I’d been listening to for the past hour while getting my day started. 

It was my morning ritual to get up around 5 AM—usually 5:07, because I really liked how the numbers zero and seven looked together like that—then spend about an hour on a light workout to start the day “right.”

“Or at least that’s what Sadie had always said was important…” I muttered, toweling off the light sweat I’d worked up. It had been my routine for over a decade now, ever since she’d dragged me along on her health kick.

Mornings were for local news only, just to get a feel for the immediate environment I’d be spending my day in. Doomscrolling and global news—the stuff meant to ruin your mood—was reserved for the trip to university. 

Better to save that little box of nightmares for when I was already on my way to being forced to deal with other people.

Most of the local news this morning had unsurprisingly been about yesterday’s Vyre Incursion. The same short interview with Ironbound had probably played thirty times in that single hour across the seven channels I had queued up.

‘Good to hear they all made it out,’ I thought as I opened my Alchemist’s Notebook. ‘Would’ve been a massive waste of effort if they hadn’t… They were actually proper Heroes. The good kind.’

There were a lot of things I wanted to do today, but the first—and most important—was getting a proper grasp on my Power-set. Yesterday’s testing had been completely derailed by the rude-as-hell Vyre Incursion and its suspicious-ass timing, but I couldn’t deny that it had also given me a huge amount of usable data.

“And the first shard basically being handed to me like that? Yeah, not complaining about that for sure.”

I still bristled at the fact that I’d already had to break one of Sadie’s and my hypothetical rules—one of the many we’d come up with over the years about what we’d do if we ever got Powers—when dealing with the Heroes. 

But there really hadn’t been any other option. I had gamed the entire exchange inside my head more than a dozen times since then and found no viable alternative.

Ultimately, however, the truth was that sacrifices had to be made if I wanted to make real progress on the plan of getting Sadie back.

‘She’d understand,’ I told myself, nodding slightly. ‘It was the most pragmatic choice. She wouldn’t like it, but she’d agree with it. If there’d been another option with a real chance of success, I’d have taken it to keep the rule. She knows that.’

They were one of the only two things I could still call my conscience now that Sadie was gone and couldn’t fill that role herself anymore: Rules and promises.

Rules could be bent. Broken, even, if there was no other viable option.

Promises couldn’t.

But either way, none of that was particularly relevant to my current task at hand, so I focused back on the notebook in front of me instead of the hypotheticals that always tended to consume my daily hours for no reason.

There were four new Formulae from yesterday’s strange experience of imbibing the shard, and four others from the first time around that I still hadn’t tried. 

That meant I’d need to buy ingredients for all of them so I could test them today.

‘Best not to mess around with Mutagens for at least a few days, in case the Heroes are out there looking for Nica. And I do still need to test whether the [Brawler Mutagen] can even return me to Nica-form sooner rather than later, though...’

My current, very rough plan kind of relied on being able to create alternate personas at will. 

It would be extremely hard to keep my life as Triss out of the spotlight otherwise. 

There was only so much a reversible trenchcoat and a half-broken mask could do.

My eyes drifted to the shattered mask, the lower corner completely missing, and a sting of anger flared in my chest at the sight.

“Fucking Vyre…” I muttered through clenched teeth, then took a slow breath to calm myself. Getting angry wasn’t going to help me get everything done before university.

I quickly typed out the ingredient list on my phone—my actual phone, not the old one I’d buried back in the Central District before taking the bus home last night—so I could pick everything up after class on my way home.

Next, I laid out all the Vials I still had from yesterday. 

There were five total, one of them still holding the leftover [Acidic Fluid] I hadn’t used. Two Vials had broken entirely, while I’d returned three to the strange void that let me conjure them, for the total of ten I had had available yesterday morning.

“Alright, let’s see if this works the way I’m hoping,” I murmured, focusing on the intangible sensation in my chest. A grin spread across my face almost instantly—I could tell right away that the void was completely full, not a single Vial missing.

A moment later, the first Vial popped into my hand. 

I set it down next to the others, then kept conjuring until the void was empty.

I fist-pumped the air after I was done. Seventeen Vials sat in front of me now.

“Yesss!”

I immediately wrote everything down in my notebook: Broken Vials returned on the next reset; Vials outside the void counted as conjured and didn’t affect replenishment; Vials stored in the void did count and wouldn’t overcap.

“So, best practice is to get all the Vials conjured and stored right after waking up—actually…” I cupped my chin and tilted my head. “All but one, today.”

I put a single Vial back into the void for testing purposes.

I still didn’t know whether the reset was a full reset or a partial one, since I had conjured all the Vials at roughly the same time yesterday. If I conjured this last one before going to bed, I’d easily be able to tell whether the reset was timer-based or tied to the day.

‘I also need to figure out the exact reset time…’

I noted the time as 6:28 AM, then closed the notebook and put it away, along with the Vials, into the nearest drawer—the one with the keypad.

After locking everything up, just in case my parents suddenly decided that today was the best day to break their decades-long habit of respecting my privacy, I got my university stuff ready. I pulled on my uniform, did my minimalistic makeup, double-checked my hair, and headed out.

I waved a quick goodbye to my parents—breakfast hadn’t really been my thing ever since Sadie told me she skipped hers to make time for her morning routine—and went to the bus stop.

“Alright, time to get started on all this…” I muttered to myself, running through everything I’d need to keep in mind for the foreseeable future—which was a lot.

First and foremost, I’d come to the conclusion yesterday that I effectively needed to be a Villain. At least for a little while—definitely for the start. With the promise I’d made to the criminal last night in the hopes he would understand the consequences enough to not fuck with my time, I didn’t really have another choice, no matter how hard I’d tried to find one.

That meant I’d have to be careful with my real identity going forward.

The Unwritten Laws helped with that, keeping Heroes and Villains from digging into each other’s identities or going after family and loved ones—but they weren’t exactly ironbound.

“Heh… Ironbound…” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

Mostly because Villains didn’t tend to care much about laws to begin with, but primarily because the Unwritten Laws weren’t just called that for shits and giggles. 

They weren’t really laws at all. 

They were an honor code at best, followed mostly out of mutual self-interest.

The moment too many Heroes or Villains started breaking them, all bets were off—and nobody wanted that, on either side.

‘Pretty much the same deal about killing each other with rabid abandon, really.’

That kind of thing definitely still happened, and not all that rarely in the grand scheme of things, but most Heroes and Villains tried to avoid killing blows unless it was an accident or there was truly no other choice—for that exact reason.

Secondly, however, being a Villain would actually let me speed up the Bring-Back-Sadie plan by a lot, as I needed a bunch of Credits to buy all the fragments I had seen online already.

As a Hero, my main source of income would almost certainly be patrols and Vyre Incursions—which I was now painfully aware were extremely dangerous, even with Powers. 

There was little chance I’d ever reveal myself to the WHA as a Crafter-type, so I’d also have to rely on the thin cover of my Nica persona, assuming I could even get that one back in the first place.

But as a Villain, I could tap into multiple revenue streams at once.

First, as a Crafter-type selling my products on the side. 

That would likely be my biggest source of income, at least early on. 

As far as I knew—which, frankly, might just be a gap in my current knowledge—there hadn’t been an active Villain Crafter-type in this part of the country for quite a while. Most of them tended to get hunted down by Heroes sooner or later for being an absolute pain to deal with, which was why secrecy was such a hard requirement in the first place.

That, however, meant the whole market was basically primed for a monopolistic takeover by yours truly—and yes, I absolutely got the cosmic irony of having to lean fully into everything I hated about late-stage capitalism just to earn the massive amount of Credits required to bring Sadie back.

Very funny, Universe. Really, just so fucking hilarious.

‘Not to mention that the shit I can make is really, really fucking good. Like… damn, it’s all so solid,’ I added mentally, smirking to myself. Seff’s visible interest in my [Adhesive Liquid] yesterday had been a pretty clear sign of that.

The second option was being a Vigilante and helping out with Vyre Incursions.

Whether I showed up as Nica or some other temporary persona didn’t really matter—and honestly, it’d probably be better if it wasn’t always Nica—as long as I could secure part of the loot share.

Selling the parts would be easy enough online. There were plenty of Vyre-part and Artefact markets out there, and nothing actually stopped civilians from owning or trading them.

‘Except maybe the Corruption… But getting a sealed suit isn’t exactly hard either. I can just order one by drone and have it here in like an hour… Which, actually, I really need to do as soon as possible.’

Even if I was immune to basic Vyre Corruption now that I was Powered, I’d still need a suit for an alibi—especially if I ever got caught with parts on me, or tried selling them under my real name.

‘No idea why I’d ever do something as stupid as that, but still.’

Third, and lastly, as a Villain, nothing actually stopped me from committing crimes. I was already a criminal in the eyes of the law, so what was one more bank robbery or extortion?

As long as I didn’t hurt the powerless, it was absolutely fair game—

‘And bonus points if it somehow hurts the trillionaires, shareholders or ruling class,’ I could practically hear Sadie’s smug voice finish the thought for me. She had never fully agreed with my anger about everything, but she definitely knew me well enough to know that was exactly where that thought would’ve ended up.

‘I can definitely do with a little bit of blackmail once in a while—as a treat. Even Sadie would agree with that,’ I nodded to myself as I finally got onto the bus.

Today’s ride, at least, unlike last night’s, didn’t cost me anything—except for the obscene monthly payments for the damn university ticket, of course. 

I took a seat in the second-to-last row at the back and made sure there was an empty seat next to me for Sadie, before drifting back to the problem at hand.

The third point of order was figuring things out in more detail.

Having a rough plan was good enough to get started, sure—but it was also how Villains got their asses thrown into the Pan, which I had absolutely no intention of experiencing anytime soon.

‘Gotta love the PR spin on the damn panopticon, all cutely dressed up for kids and the uninformed masses as “Pan.” Like it’s a cooking utensil or something…’

Still, even knowing what it actually was—the largest and most secure prison complex ever built on the planet—the name did make it sound less threatening every time I heard it.

That was just damn good branding by the PR department, really.

‘Also makes for great jokes whenever a Villain actually escapes… from the Pan into the fire and all that.’

Either way, it was something I very much needed to avoid.

So setting aside proper time for planning over the next few days was an absolute must. 

Which, honestly, shouldn’t be all that hard. 

I wanted to build up a small stock of merchandise first, before even thinking about marketing it—and I still had to figure out how to sell things as a Villain in the first place.

‘Can’t exactly just put them up online and ship them out by drone…’

At least not with normal commercial drones. They all had transponders, IDs, constant GPS callbacks—every bit of tracking crap Big Brother loved to use to keep tabs on everyone, all the time. If I wanted to move things anonymously, I’d need a black-market drone. 

Which was yet another thing I’d somehow have to figure out.

I slouched a bit, resting my chin on my fist and leaning my arm against the seat in front of me as I watched the outskirts of the city rush by outside the window.

‘There’s a lot of stuff I just don’t know—and no easy way to learn it without putting my Triss persona at risk,’ I realized after a few minutes of turning it over in my head. ‘Which means the Mutagen personas—assuming they all change my body like the Brawler one—are going to have to be my way of doing recon going forward.’

Effectively, Triss wouldn’t be able to do much of anything—except build an extremely solid and believable alibi persona. Which was the entire reason I was headed to university in the first place, despite the massive amount of work still ahead of me to get the plan rolling.

And, of course, there was that semi-promise I had made to Sadie during our very last conversation. It hadn’t been a real promise—I hadn’t used the keyphrase, after all—but given that Sadie had more or less directly asked it of me, it still counted as one. 

At least a little.

“Haaa…” I let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the seat and tilting my head up to stare at the ceiling as I muttered, “And that means actually doing well in class…”

Damn Sadie and her constant need to make sure I was a functional, respectable member of society. Still, having Triss turn into a model student—making friends at university and staying involved with it and all of them just enough to be considered “in”—would be a perfect alibi if I ever needed one.

‘So, in a way, Sadie already paved the path for this part of the plan, huh?’ I thought. ‘Sneaky, sneaky Sadie. Always two steps ahead of everyone else—even the damn universe, apparently. I wonder if—’

My thoughts were rudely cut off by someone speaking at me like some rowdy mongrel.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asked, which prompted me to look up at him.

The seat was quite obviously free, in any sense of the word. It wasn’t taken by anything but air. The question was just the usual “polite” way of asking permission without actually asking the question, because that made a lot of sense in people’s minds, for some reason.

“Yes. Go away,” I replied, turning my head back toward the window.

The man looked completely stunned. I saw his mouth open and close like a fish in the window’s reflection before he finally walked away.

‘Huh. Didn’t think that would actually work… Neat.’

I hadn’t been rude without reason, though: The seat was Sadie’s.

Whether she was here today or not didn’t matter. 

Things had their place in this world, and that seat was Sadie’s. It always had been and always would be. So the seat really was taken—just not physically. And since his question hadn’t specified physical occupancy, I was well within my rights to interpret his question broadly and give the honest-to-god answer of no. 

Sadie would reluctantly agree with that logic, even if she’d still scold me for it afterward—like she so often did with things like that. 

Not my fault people weren’t specific with their questions…

Thankfully, however, that was the only incident on the entire bus ride—aside from the brief moment of confusion when we drove straight past Sadie’s stop without anyone getting on.

‘Silly me…’

Finally, I arrived at the university entrance and put on my new face.

‘I’ll call this one… New Triss! Well—okay, name pending. I’ll come up with something good, promise.’

There were rules when it came to presenting a face to people.

Quite a few of them, really, but the most important one was simple: A face is not a mask.

Pretty much everyone masked at some point in their lives—mirroring emotions to fit in, avoiding being excluded by pretending, and so on—but especially neurodivergent people did it all the time, which there were quite a lot of these days. 

Many suspected the Appearance and the Convergence had caused an uptick in strange, alien ways, but personally, I’d always thought we’d simply gotten better at noticing the signs for a proper diagnosis.

Either way, the problem with masks was that they were inherently fragile. Rip the mask off, accidentally have it drop, create too many cracks, and you were naked—entirely exposed. 

Not exactly great if you were aiming for something long-term.

Faces didn’t have that weakness—but they were also much harder to maintain.

A face was the real personality you presented to a chosen group of people. There was no mask to tear away or accidentally lose, because the face was the whole thing.

There was no breaking the face. No losing it or having yourself get exposed.

That was rule number one.

Once you showed a face to someone, that face was who you were to them forever—unless changes in circumstances could realistically shift it over time. Which, surprise, surprise, the death of your best friend actually counted as, letting me drastically alter the one I’d used at university up until this point.

That, in essence, was the real trick to never being excluded: Perfectly faked authenticity.

‘People love that shit,’ I thought dryly. ‘Especially flaws. Show them a few badly hidden ones, act like they’re deeply embarrassing, and they’ll forgive a lot of cracks. Works every time.’

The new face had a clear purpose: Be a perfectly likable, model student, and build up “Triss” as a solid alibi in case I ever needed it.

I let out one last heavy sigh, silently cursing Sadie for having talked me into an implicit promise like this, before letting the face fully settle. 

My mouth pulled into a slight smile, my eyes gained their practiced shine, and a bit of pep crept into my step as I walked off the bus, flicked my hair out with one hand to give it a quick, uneven shuffle—a minor flaw for endearment—and headed into the campus with a new-found, confident stride…

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