The Stupendous Adventures of Butler Boy - Chapter 4

“Open.”

I finished the motion of swallowing and dropped my jaw, parting my lips as I bared first the top of my tongue and then raised it to show the bottom.

The nurse gave me a fractional smile and nodded. “Good. Sorry, but we have to check every time, especially with our younger patients. Some of them don't enjoy swallowing the larger pills. You've been good, but I can't cut you slack. Missing doses of an anti-fungal medication will put you back at square one, or worse.”

“I understand,” I nodded, eyes glancing over the cart by my chair, then up at the television. “Would you mind turning it off? I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Sure thing, hon,” the nurse nodded, walking over to the set.

My hand swept out before I could second-guess myself further and slipped a sterile-packed syringe under my sheets before she turned back around.

Another round of pleasantries passed between us before she turned and rolled the cart out of the door.

Only after she'd been gone for a full minute did I pull the syringe out, still wrapped in sealed plastic, and stared at it. I sighed, shook my head, and double-checked my watch's alarm before shoving the syringe into the bag that my parents had brought for me. Then, I rolled over and sighed as I tried to get some sleep.

…

“It's official,” I muttered to myself, staring at my own image in the full-length bathroom mirror, “I'm a dumbass.”

This time, at least, I wasn't doing it by accident.

Did that make it better, or worse?

I shook my head and walked back to my bed, pulling up my sketchbook and tearing off the page I'd had it open to. Regardless of whether or not I succeeded, I'd be dumping this into a trashcan somewhere along the way. Maybe even flushing it down a toilet if I could manage it. Shredding it first, of course. I didn't need some janitor finding it after it clogged the pipes.

I took one more glance over the map I'd made and took a deep breath.

Then I stuck my head out the door, looked both ways, and confirmed the cameras were in the proper position.

I started walking.

Slowly, unhurriedly, a full syringe in my pocket and a bundle of cloth under my arm. One would need to be dumped if I got confronted. The other was an excuse that, hopefully, would pluck at someone's heart strings enough to get me off should I be caught.

I turned left, narrowly avoiding a nurse's station and taking the long way around.

I stopped in the empty hallway, the quiet of the witching hour broken only by the noise of medical equipment, janitorial staff, and the unlucky overnight shift.

The camera directly above me swiveled to look the way I'd come and I continued on my path further down, aiming for the bathroom. That would allow me to get out of sight and reset my waiting period so that I could dodge the next one more easily.

Hearing the squeak of shoes on tile, I ducked into a stall and pretended to use the toilet.

A few moments later, I heard a flush, a faucet, and a door swinging shut.

I stayed for another minute.

Taking a breath, I stepped out and checked the cameras' positions again, then kept moving. A right, pause under a camera, another right... and...

There!

Quickly, before the pivoting camera could turn back, I ducked into the room and unfurled the bundle under my arm and slipped it over my head. Once again, Addy had come through with an odd request that was only slightly unreasonable. The plain white hoodie wasn't all that difficult to acquire, after all, nor were the sharpies or glitterpens, but each and every other member of my family would have asked questions. Adelaide had simply raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and made the run to the crafts store when she went to get some coffee last night.

The mirrored aviators were, admittedly, a bit of a stretch, but Addy really came in clutch.

It had taken a little doing to properly stretch the hoodie and make sure the sharpies didn't bleed through, but overall the design came out...

Well, breathtaking, honestly.

As I flipped up the hood and slid on the sunglasses, I wondered if Father Martinez would want to sell a few as a fundraiser. I didn't know what you used to lock-in sharpie ink like dye, but we lived in an age of rampant commercialization, so there was probably something.

“Hello? Is someone there?” The voice in the room called out, sleepy and weak.

I flipped on the bathroom light as I passed, having practiced the move in my own room. The luminescent glow back-lighting me wouldn't trick an adult, but a bedridden child that was still half-asleep was an easier mark for this kind of trick.

“Hey Jamie,” I smiled, walking past him and towards the window to give it a cursory view. “I heard you were sick and came down to check on you. Feeling okay tonight?”

As he rubbed his eyes and sat up slightly, I saw the six-year-old's eyes glimpse the design on my back and pull a startled breath into his lungs. “I, um... I'm okay? I think. Umm... what's your name?”

I turned and grinned. “I don't actually have one yet. My boss hasn't given me one yet. I hear you earn that the same time you get the halo.”

Tapping the crown of my head, I emphasized the lack of anything floating above it.

His dark eyes, if anything, widened further. He spoke in a hushed whisper, “A-are you really a-”

“Like I said,” I smiled softly. “Not yet. I've still got to do some good works. Prove that I'm worthy of the full wings and halo, you know?”

The brown-haired boy nibbled on his bottom lip as he looked me over in the dim light. “You look like me, though. I always thought angels would look...”

He made a vague motion and I chuckled.

“I heard your folks like the bible, Jamie,” I smiled at him, and he nodded. “Do you know this one? 'And Lord Jehovah said to Shemueil: Do not gaze on his appearance and on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him, for I am not as a man who sees, because a man sees with the eyes and Lord Jehovah sees with the heart.'”

Uncertainty crept into his gaze. “I think... Samuel?”

My smile widened and I reached out to ruffle his hair. “First Samuel, sixteen-seven. Very good. You know what it means?”

“Th-that we shouldn't judge people by what they look like? But who they are, and what they do?” Jamie asked cautiously.

Good kid, you listened in Sunday school a few weeks ago. I suppose it's something of a blessing that they got lazy and standardized the plans across the younger groups.

“So... here's just a little bit of proof, okay? But you have to keep it secret, alright?” I asked, leaning in dramatically so that he could see his face in my mirrored sunglasses.

He nodded his head rapidly and I held up my fingers, snapping them dramatically to produce a small flame that hovered above my palm.

Jamie Richards drew another stilted breath, the action too quick for his ill body and making him cough harshly. I quickly squashed the flame and poured the kid a glass of water. Coaxing him through the act of drinking, his breathing slowly got back on track until he was able to look up at me with wonder again.

“You really are an angel!” He whispered.

“Not quite yet,” I reminded him, poking his forehead with a sly smile. “I've got to do a bunch of good deeds before it's official, remember? And one of those good deeds is helping you.”

“Me?” Jamie asked, even further awed. “You came to help me?”

“Special miracle medicine,” I confirmed, drawing out the syringe packed with blood and waving it slightly, the plastic cap having been replaced. “Can you be a big boy for me and take it?”

Jamie swallowed slightly at the needle, but nodded slowly. “I-I'm not that little,” he replied, a touch sourly.

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologized to the eight year old, holding up a hand. “Now, I don't want to rush, but once I'm done here, there's another person who needs my help, okay?”

“I guess angels are busy, too,” Jamie hummed as I adjusted the blankets and sleeve on the arm without the IV drip.

“Little prick, okay?” I asked, and he nodded with a bit of trepidation.

Then I leaned to the left and looked past him. “Oh, what's that?”

He turned, looking towards the window.

I slid the needle in and depressed the plunger smoothly.

“I don't see-” Jamie started, then took a suddenly-deep breath as his entire frame stiffened, his slightly-sunken cheeks filling out, color returning to his face, and a little bit of musculature growing on his arms. “-whoa! I feel amazing!”

“Shh!” I reminded him gently, smiling as I blinked rapidly, relief flooding me.

I really had wanted to test this first, but... today was the only day. Jamie was leaving to see a specialist tomorrow in Denver and I was going home. I honestly didn't know if my ability would work against the aggressive form of cancer the kid had, but I'd hoped that even if it didn't, it would give him a fighting chance against the monster eating his body from within.

Then, as I capped the marker and the kid looked like he was about to launch himself at me in a hug, his stomach growled low and loud.

I chuckled as he turned red and clutched at his abdomen, slipping the syringe back where it came from into my pocket.

“S-sorry, I'm just really hungry all of a sudden,” he muttered, grimacing. “It's the first time I've really wanted to eat in weeks...”

I reached out and patted his head. “How about this? You give me a few minutes and then you can hit the nurse call button and ask for some food, okay?”

“They won't be angry?” He asked, frowning as his stomach growled again. “I thought that was for emergencies?”

“I think they'll understand,” I assured him, already backing away. “Now, I've got to go. Be good, Jamie Richards. Help those in need and live well. Not everyone gets a miracle when they need it, remember that.”

“I-I will,” Jamie replied, reaching up to rub at his eyes. “Th-thank you! I hope you get your wings soon! And your halo, too!”

“When I earn them,” I nodded at the child one last time, turning and heading to the door, only giving the hallways and cameras a brief look before stepping out and pulling my hoodie off. Bundling the sunglasses into them, I straightened out my hospital smock and turned back the way I came.

Despite my heart beating rapidly in my chest, I didn't run.

Running was the enemy. Hurried footsteps drew attention.

Walk with purpose, walk like you have a right to be here, walk like you have somewhere to be...

Bathroom stop again, though a different one, and I deposited the used syringe into a red biohazard disposal bin, taking a moment to pop the cap back off so it looked like all the others. After that, it was just a dozen more feet until I-

“Oof,” I grunted, almost falling down.

“Oh dear, what are you doing out of bed, wandering the halls at this time of night?” The nurse asked, catching me as I tried to rush around a corner and collided with her.

I chuckled, forcing myself to blush, reaching into my pocket for my emergency cover story-

“Looking for the vending machines?” I asked sheepishly, holding up my wallet. “I kind of wanted a midnight snack.”

The nurse gave me a level stare, folding her arms in a very unimpressed manner. “And you weren't going to fill up on sugar and soda, I bet.”

I chuckled awkwardly, my heartbeat slowing. “Ah... maybe just a coke?”

She shook her head. “Let me get you settled and I'll bring you some fruit and juice if you're really that hungry. Honestly, walking around at this hour... you could catch your death of cold!”

“I brought a jacket if I got cold,” I intentionally whined, holding up the cloth bundle under my arm and making the nurse roll her eyes as she coaxed me back to my room.

“Kids these days,” she sighed and pointed to me as I got under the covers. “Now don't leave your room again, young man. If you have an issue, hit the button to call a nurse. We don't need kids wandering around the hospital at all hours. Who knows what trouble you'll get into?”

“Yes ma'am,” I nodded, dipping my head.

No, seriously, am I just small for my age? I'm thirteen, not ten! I can handle a walk to a vending machine without being compelled to drink the nearest bottle of bleach!

“Good, now... I've got another patient to see to for a few moments, then I'll come back up with a snack for you. Just sit tight,” she informed me, turning and passing through the doorway before allowing it to shut behind her.

My shoulders dropped as I heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Am I sure I want to be a hero?” I asked the empty room, staring at the ceiling. “Crime has got to be less stressful than this...”

I chuckled hysterically and reached back into my pocket for my wallet, stilling as my fingers brushed against paper instead of faux-leather.

Slowly, I pulled out the two strips of shiny paper.

One was gold, one was silver.

The gold one had Jamie Richard's name on it.

The silver one was equally clear, though all it said was, 'Not Getting Caught.'

There was a moment of temptation, then I giggled madly and opened my wallet, putting the tickets inside. “Absolutely not. Not fucking way. I might be crazy, but I'm not completely insane, thank you very much. I am going home tomorrow and this can wait.”

Surprising myself, I practically devoured the fruit and juice the nurse brought me, though the second plate on the cart was...

I closed my eyes and let my head thump back onto the bedframe.

“You couldn't have given me thirty more seconds, Jamie?” I asked tiredly.

…

“Now, just let us know if you need anything while you're recovering,” Mom ordered me softly, yet sternly.

I was unmoved. “I'd love my own bed.”

Her caring gaze dropped a few notches. “You're going to stay down here, on the couch, where I can check on you at the very least until your medications run out.”

I sighed and looked around the spacious living room, three large dog beds lined up against the built-in bookcases against the left side of the far wall. To the right of those, there was a classic brick fireplace that faced both this room and the kitchen on the other side of the wall, letting it pull double-duty. To the far right of that wall was a large CRT TV sitting on a catty-corner stand with the various electronics that characterized the modern age, such as a VCR and one of the most recent gaming systems, the Lexcorp Luna.

'It's out of this world!'

Personally, I was just waiting for the next WayneTech system to release. Doubtless, it would have the most boring name imaginable, but outperform Lex's console on nearly every aspect. I'd still need to keep the Luna around, though, because Lex had a number of widely-publicized exclusivity deals with popular franchises.

Luthor was gonna' Luthor, I suppose.

“Sorry squirt, looks like you're stuck down here,” Algernon chuckled, distracting me from my musings as I pet one of the large dogs who'd taken my arrival on the couch as an invitation to beg for attention. Carter, now laying on my legs, directed a smug look towards Lincoln and Monroe, the other dogs huffing and laying down on the floor next to the couch. In all likelihood, they smelled the lingering sickness on me, either from my own illness or from the hospital in general.

I sighed and leaned back. “There are worse places to be trapped.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.

Mom's lips quivered as she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath while Algie grimaced and swallowed, his eyes looking dark for a moment.

“Sorry,” I muttered, reaching up to rub at my face. “Maybe I'm still a little off. I'll stay down here mom, don't worry. I will need a few things from my room, though.”

My attempt to power through the awkwardness was picked up by my brother, who likewise forced a smile. “Which is what I'm here for. You need anything upstairs, let me know and I'll bring it down, okay?”

“How about a run to the general store?” I asked instead, half-joking. “I do kind of need some art supplies...”

“Way ahead of you there, champ!” Dad chimed in, coming through the door, arms laden with bags. Addy, likewise, lugged a large bag into the living room as well, the obvious shape of an easel sticking out of it.

I groaned. “Dad! I didn't mean the entire store! I just wanted a better set of pencils and paints, maybe a few brushes... not all this!”

Mom shook her head, seeming to throw off the momentary faux-pas I'd made. “Nonsense. You're the only one of my children that's ever shown any talent for art. I'd be a failure of a parent if I didn't insist on nurturing it.”

Despite my protestations, my fingers were twitching as I watched them set up the easel and unbox the various supplies. I shook my head and leaned further back, busying my hands with the attention-seeking dog in my lap instead.

“I have no idea where I'm going to put all of this,” I sighed, thinking of my electronics-filled room.

My mother and father traded a look that had me raising an eyebrow.

“Mom and Dad have been-” Algie began, only to be cut off by a pointed cough from my mother.

“Archibald and I have been discussing adding a large detached shed to the property,” Mom began, and my eyebrows rose. “While Adelaide is currently at college, we don't want her to feel pressured to move out-”

My elder sister notably did not say anything to that declaration.

“-and we enjoy having the other downstairs room open for guests when your grandparents or aunts and uncles come visit,” Mom finished.

“Which means the house is getting a bit cramped, especially if Arden is going to take up another space-intensive hobby like his electronics repair,” my dad commented pragmatically, then looked to me. “Which is great, Arden. You're a talented boy and we want you to explore hobbies, especially ones that might open up doors to colleges or universities in a few years.”

“What would happen to the shed we already have?” Addy asked curiously, leaning over to look at it through one of the back windows.

Mom turned to look at Dad expectantly.

Archibald coughed, clearing his throat somewhat sheepishly. “Part of the deal I've made with your mother would be to clean out and reorganize the old shed and move the tools that are in the garage out there once all the junk's gone. That way we would have the full garage open and not have to constantly play musical chairs with our cars. But I'll be needing you boys to help me with that sometime next week.”

“After Arden's had plenty of time to recover,” Mom stipulated and dad nodded sternly.

“After that, yes, but I'll also need you boys to help me with the warre out back, too. Since the new shed would need to go there and your mother could use the leftover space to expand her garden,” Dad sighed.

Algie and I traded grimaces as we looked towards the back yard.

It was a pretty significant space, all told. The entire lot that the house sat on was about an acre, with a quarter of that space being taken up by the house itself, the front yard, and driveway. But the house abutted literal woodland on the back property line and most of what had once been cleared decades ago had eventually been taken back over by that same forest. Thus, the space that was apparently being eyeballed for an expansion was covered in a nasty combination of the three types of American poison vines – Ivy, Sumac, and Oak – in addition to a thorny tangle of weeds. Topping it all off was the various junk that had been eaten by the foliage, such as an old wheelbarrow, that positively bred wasps and bees. And that ignored the actual animals that liked to stalk around the area, too. It was such a horrible mess that even three fully-grown wolfhounds wanted nothing to do with it.

Mom, whose degree was in Philosophy, had dubbed the space, 'the warre.'

Which was a reference no decent human being should understand without looking it up.

Roughly translated, it meant, 'the state of all against all.'

And, apparently, we were going to be assigned the task of cleaning it out.

Joy.

“If everything goes well,” Dad spoke up, grunting as he rose to his feet and walked over to the back windows, “we should be good to start work on laying a foundation for the new shed... say, sometime next month? I'm thinking... one and a half stories? A loft, where we can store some of the holiday decorations or other stuff that's clogging up the attic. Maybe make a full spring cleaning of it when we get the Easter stuff down.”

I was, distantly, reminded of the renovation videos I'd once enjoyed watching on a platform that didn't yet exist in this reality.

Someone decided to replace their tub instead of patching it after it started leaking. But once the tub was out, you noticed mold, so you had to start pulling the subfloor out. Then you realized the tub you wanted to install wouldn't work with the current plumbing, or the pipes were actually old lead ones or something, and had to start working on that. Which, in turn, involved removing the tile on the walls, and then the sink and vanity. And then you notice that the floor joists are rotten or have termite damage or some idiot cut into them to install the toilet and... well, eventually you find yourself in the basement with a jackhammer trying to fix the foundation so that you can properly level the floors and stop them squeaking.

It was called 'scope creep.'

IE: A phenomenon that occurs when a project begins to dramatically, unexpectedly, and repeatedly increase in size, complexity, time, and cost.

Well, I guess we'll see how things go. Not like I wouldn't enjoy a little mini-studio...

“But that won't be for a bit,” Dad stated, shaking his head and dismissing whatever daydream about the extension he was having before turning back to me. “Arden, I know you just got out of the hospital and you've given a lot of statements about... those boys-”

Mom's expression grew strained as she interrupted her husband. “I'm going to go call for dinner. You said pizza, Arden? You want your regular, right?”

“Yes ma'am, please,” I nodded. “Extra cheese, if possible.”

She smiled and nodded. “You two come with me, I need your orders, too.”

Algie, being slightly oblivious at the best of times, opened his mouth to declare that his own 'regular' hadn't changed, either. Being red-blooded Americans in the nineties, pizza night was a semi-regular occurrence, at least once a month if not more often. Which meant that, when Addy walked by him and grabbed his arm with a sigh, there was something afoot that Mom wanted to leave me and Dad alone to discuss.

“C'mon Algie-” Addy began, a smirk playing at her lips.

“Sis, c'mon!” My brother complained as he was dragged off, loosing his train of thought at the nickname. “I already told you-”

“Just as cake,” I nodded, looking back to Dad, who sighed with fond exasperation.

“One day, you're going to tell us what that actually means,” Dad grumbled.

I grinned as I pet the dog in my lap. It wasn't a white cat and a living room wasn't a Bond Villain Lair, but it was the thought that counted.

“So, what'd you want to talk about that Addy and Algie couldn't be here for?” I asked, pushing the discussion back on track.

“More shouldn't than couldn't,” Dad temporized as he made his way over to a stool and picked it up before gently nudging one of the hounds out of the way and sitting down on it next to me. “Your mother and I are having a... spirited disagreement about something involving your case and we didn't want to draw your siblings into it.”

I hummed thoughtfully, giving him a nod.

Dad reached up and rubbed the three-day stubble on his chin. It was a habit of his when work got hectic, though that was rare in our town. Usually only the holidays brought that about. It wasn't exactly a surprise to see him disheveled here and now, but it was confirmation of just how much everything was affecting him.

My throat clenched as I thought about how everything else he didn't know would weigh on him.

“Do you remember me mentioning Benjamin Baxter?” My Dad asked.

I nodded, sighing as I rubbed my head. “It was... one of the reasons I didn't want to escalate things when he started giving me crap about homework, if I'm being completely honest.”

A pained grimace flashed across Dad's face as he leaned forward to hug me. “Son – Arden – from now on I want you to promise to tell me if someone's giving you trouble, even if it'll make things a little complicated. That's my job. Both as your dad and a cop.”

I nodded as he pulled away. “Yes sir. I promise I'll come to you in the future if there's a problem at school or around town with someone.”

Archibald Villin looked me dead in the eyes for a long moment, then nodded, sighing as he fully sat back on the stool. “Benjamin and his brother want to talk to you about their kids... about maybe getting the courts to go easy on them.”

I grimaced slightly.

Normally, this would be where a thirteen year old would ask a lot of questions about what that meant, given I wasn't a lawyer, a judge, or really expected to be a significant part of the actual trial at all. Thankfully, I didn't really need a refresher course on the American legal system, since the DC-verse's was roughly analogous to our own. Though, there was an entire section on 'metahuman law' that could give Superman's abs a run for how dense the material was.

I'd skimmed a few summaries online out of curiosity, but hadn't really been able to get further than that.

On the mundane side of things, though, the victim's role in the court proceedings wasn't all that significant. In the case of a crime being committed against them, once the initial decision to 'press charges' was made and a police report was filed, the justice system was at least nominally on autopilot from there.

The case got investigated, witnesses interviewed, evidence was cataloged, media was circused, potential criminals were taken into custody... and then someone from the prosecution's office decided whether or not there was substantial enough evidence of a crime to formally accuse the person or people in question. The victim couldn't simply ask that the charges be dropped or anything like that, despite what dramatized courtroom movies might assert.

Because, in terms of legal theory, the crime wasn't just committed against the victim.

A crime was a violation of the law of the state or nation.

That made it the concern of the whole of society to see such a transgression investigated, evaluated, tried, and – if need be – punished.

A victim really didn't have all that much say in those proceedings, really.

On paper, at least.

Depending on... well, a lot of factors, a victim's words could sway the court a significant amount, especially if called upon to testify before a jury. The party who had been wronged asking for clemency or, if that wasn't possible, a reduction of charges/punishment could very easily get what they wanted.

Of course, you could also go before the court and emphasize the irredeemable nature of the crime and ask the judge/jury to throw the proverbial book at them.

“Do they understand that I'm not going to recant my statements?” I asked, frowning. “Like... they understand that I'm not going to help John and Kevin get off scott free, right?”

Dad's face grew serious. “I made sure of that, don't worry son. If they decide to pull something like that or threaten us, the meeting stops right then and there. But the District Attorney is up for reelection this year and with the news cycle picking this case up...”

Dad trailed off and I hissed as I inhaled.

Yeah, those that news coverage I hadn't wanted to watch?

They'd been national ones.

It'd been a slow news week, apparently.

I groaned and rubbed at my face tiredly.

Yet another thing I neither wanted on my plate nor had the time to deal with. “So, what do they want?”

“Right now, the DA's office is thinking about moving forward with attempted murder-one charges,” Dad explained with a scowl. “Apparently, they're of the belief that no one could be stupid enough to legitimately believe that locking someone in a confined space for three days without food or water wouldn't... well...”

“I get it,” I assured him, squirming a bit as I was confronted with my own possible death yet again. “They probably haven't had much interaction with John or Kevin, have they?”

Dad snorted and shook his head. “No, I don't think so, but... you speaking up for them would go a long way towards an attempted manslaughter charge, maybe even negligent.”

I sighed, pushing myself back into the couch as the doggo squirmed against me and demanded more attention. I obliged with a slight smile.

“Arden...” Dad started slowly, then shook his head. “Don't... don't do this for me. Benny Baxter and I might go way back, but you're my son. All I promised to do is ask you if you'd be willing to talk to them, let them make their case. If you say no, that's what I'll tell them. It's not like Benny and I are ever going to be going out for drinks again, anyway.”

“I'll hear them out,” I shook my head.

Dad stared at me for a moment. “You're sure?”

I nodded. “Yeah, as long as it's somewhere safe and everything. I don't think they'd... do something stupid, but... I didn't think that about their kids, either.”

Dad grunted and nodded. “Don't worry about that. It'll be down at the station with lawyers present, probably someone from the DA's office too, and I'll have an officer standing by if there's a problem.”

I exhaled, relief drawing out the tension in my muscles. That... was good, yeah. Really good. It made me feel a lot better about what was probably a bad idea. But, well... I did kind of owe Benny Baxter a favor, I guess. His son almost killing me had kind of soured me on that prospect, but hearing him out would let me put any lingering guilt to bed.

They probably wouldn't like my terms, anyway, if the idea blooming in my mind was anything to go by.

“I'm proud of you for doing this, Arden,” Dad smiled and came in for another hug, which I returned. “Even if it's going to make things awkward with your mother for a bit.”

“Look up Colossians 3:12, Luke 6:35, and Ephesians 4:32,” I advised him with a grin. “They're pretty good choices for this situation.”

Dad chuckled, opening his mouth to speak, when-

“Uh... hey, Dad? Ardie?” Algernon asked, taking a few quick steps around the doorway and heading for the remote sitting on the end table next to the couch. “You might want to see this.”

He flipped the TV on and swapped channels to Metropolis Global, one of the big names in the news business. A woman with a plastic smile was sitting behind a desk, speaking into the camera.

“-just coming in, but we've uncovered evidence that suggest young Arden Villin, previously known to our viewers as they young man who'd flexed his ingenuity to get out of a life-threatening situation in Colorado, has been revealed to be both an academic genius as well as – apparently – an investment savant-”

I groaned, dropping my head back against the couch.

Great.

They'd found out about the stocks.

…

It was two in the morning and, thankfully, the news vans had finally gone home.

That was only after they'd tried to interview the pizza delivery boy.

For some reason.

It was a safe bet they'd be back tomorrow, though, which was a prospect that had my cheese-filled guts churning. So, to comfort me in my hour of need, I was contemplating an entirely different topic and taking my mind off my worries.

A gold ticket.

A silver ticket.

And a bronze ticket.

The first for saving Jamie Richards. The second for not getting caught while doing so. The final one for making a full recovery and getting out of the hospital without arousing suspicions.

Honestly, I thought it was a little silly to give me a reward for just being patient and waiting out a few boring days of medical rest.

On the other hand, though, that was the kind of thing that fit the definition for a bronze ticket. A basic bitch chore that took no real skill or aptitude, just time and tedium.

“The smart thing to do would be to wait until the heat dies down and wander off into the woods for some privacy,” I murmured to myself, rubbing the slick paper between my fingers. “But I've been making a lot of stupid decisions lately.”

The gacha siren called.

I looked upwards and sighed before easing off the couch and heading towards the guest bathroom. It was on the opposite side of the house from my parent's master bedroom and would give me the most walls between myself and them in case I got something weird or loud or...

Fuck, I don't know, it's called the Chaos Gacha for a reason.

“This is why I never started in on gacha games,” I muttered at the tickets accusingly, sitting down on the closed toilet lid. “I've always had terrible impulse control.”

I hesitated.

Rare one first? Or common?

“Terrible impulse control,” I repeated myself and tore the gold ticket.

The sound of a gacha capsule rolling down a machine rang out and...

“I need to find out if anyone else can hear that,” I hummed as I caught the plastic egg and taking a breath before cracking it and looking at the paper within.

212. Non Binding Clause (5.3 Rarity, 0.05% odds)

-Epic Trait-

That contract you just signed? The one with the soul bindings or magical enforcement? Yeah, unfortunately for them it's non-binding for you. At any time you choose to, you can destroy any contract or clause bound to you that you have agreed to. The fae will cry.

“Huh,” I muttered as I felt something within me shift. “That's... potentially very useful as a late-game surprise if I end up dealing with higher-order beings.”

But, sadly, it wasn't all that immediately impactful

A great ace up the sleeve, don't get me wrong, and very nice should Mixxy come back and want to make a deal or something, but... that was late-game stuff.

I set the paper to one side and picked up the silver ticket.

Tear, rattle, drop, open, and...

298.Blessing of Hestia (3.2 Rarity, 0.29% odds)

-Rare Trait-

You are a child blessed by Hestia, the goddess of Hearth. You have resistance to all mental effects and negative ailments. Your body is way healthier and people feel more comfortable around you due to the natural aura you have around you.

I instantly felt like a million bucks, my eyes wide as the simple absence of all the little aches and pains I'd been suffering just... vanished. I stood up and turned to look in the mirror, my eyes going a bit wide.

“I really hope I can play this off as finally having a good night's rest in my own home,” I told my reflection, pulling a face at how full and healthy I was suddenly looking. While I hadn't been on death's door before, I'd looked... well, like a young teen who'd just been through a traumatizing event and spent a week in the hospital.

I blinked and looked closer. “Holy shit... did this just clear up my acne? Damn... score one for the Greek Goddess of the... oh, shit.”

The penny or, ah... drachma? No, wait, that was like a Greecian dollar or something... what was a Greecian penny?

I shook my head. “Damn it, the Greek Pantheon is a thing in this world. Ugh... has Hes-”

My mouth slammed shut.

“No names,” I told myself firmly. “I made that mistake once, I'm not doing it again.”

If the blessing hadn't attracted her attention, someone with said blessing saying her name aloud almost certainly would. I looked around the bathroom cautiously, then opened the door and looked around the dark and quiet house, waiting for... something.

Something that, apparently, wasn't coming.

I looked around again, then ducked back into the bathroom.

“Congratulations, you've complicated my life significantly,” I informed the summary on the paper, setting it aside and dropping heavily onto the toilet once again. “Aw, hell... I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep now, am I?”

I sighed, rubbing at my eyes with mental and emotional tiredness, if not physical.

I looked back at the bronze ticket, then picked it up.

“Look, I'm done pretending that there's a chance I'm not going to go ahead and tear you,” I told it sternly. “But if you do give me something weird, at least let me hide it better than this blessing, okay?”

The ticket was ominously silent.

“Yeah, about what I figured,” I muttered, then tore it.

The great gacha machine in the sky chimed out and a plastic egg hit my outstretched hand.

I cracked it an, much like the blessing, immediately felt the difference.

This time, though, it was a weight in a part of my... sould? Mind? A weight in a part of my being that I hadn't even known existed before this.

97. Divine Dogs (1.8 Rarity, 2.16% odds)

-Common Familiar-

Jujutsu Kaisen - A pair of twin wolves capable of tearing apart targets with their claws and fangs. Each of the dogs can detect hostility and negative emotions and notify their master when they feel hostility directed toward them. Their tracking abilities allow them to find lost allies and locations as well. The power of shikigami with your own energy levels.

I stared at the paper.

“Well, at least I can apparently keep these guys in storage like real shikigami when I'm not using them,” I noted, more than a little frazzled by... everything that had just happened.

Don't ask how I knew that, either.

I just did, the moment I received the dogs.

Moreover, this was the first thing I'd pulled that actually had an identifier that pointed to a specific world it had been pulled from.

On top of everything else, Jujutsu Kaisen was apparently real somewhere out there. I'd guessed that was the rule ever since I'd been reborn in a comic book universe, but to have actual confirmation…

It begged the question…

If I could pull from JJK, what else was there?

I picked up the other two summaries of my new rewards and stared at them.

“I should make a list,” I hummed to myself. It wasn't the most exciting thing to occupy my mind with, but it would give me something to do for a bit. Plus, if I kept getting tickets, I'd want to be able to reference what I pulled and when I pulled it. “Yay, bookkeeping! Maybe that'll keep my dumbass occupied instead of getting into more trouble.”

~~~

So... chapter ballooned out to about seven thousand words.

I am very tired now.

Marvel Industrious over the weekend.

Thank you for your support.

Oh, and it looks like Transhumanism Lite won the poll. Woo! Thanks to everyone who participated.