Mind Games - Chapter 11

Dad had taken off from work.

In theory, as he was a self-employed tech consultant who set his own hours, the man didn't really need to 'take off' anything. He could, instead, simply choose not to work that day. It wasn't something he did often, given he was a Japanese workaholic specifically, but this was a special occasion. A regrettable occasion, but still I suppose, a special one.

Niko glared at the pill case in his hands as we sat waiting for the cab to arrive at the house. While we had a garage, the small housing development we lived in was bordered on all sides by enough of the heartland of Tokyo's urban sprawl that virtually everything was within walking distance. The few things that weren't, of course, were just a train ride away.

“You remember how to handle me while I'm on these things, right Hitoshi?” Dad asked, scowling down at the small bottle.

“Always keep line of sight, don't let you sign anything, the number for emergency services is in my phone, and I've got a ride keyed up if we need to get home fast,” I affirmed with a nod, popping my neck lazily.

“Good,” Niko nodded, then popped the top off and tapped a pair of the large white ovals into his palm. “I didn't look forward to getting someone from the assistance office to chaperone me. Thanks, Son.”

I grunted and nodded, slightly uncomfortable. “No problem.”

He threw the pills into his mouth, then swung his head back in a practiced motion, dry-swallowing them. “Ugh. I hate these things.”

“I still remember when they tested them on me back when I was six,” I replied, frowning at the memory. “Everything felt... muted. And that was before the vertigo hit.”

Niko snorted humorlessly, but nodded. “Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll develop a suppressant that doesn't make me want to kill myself.”

I covered my wince well enough, I thought.

They weren't really suppressants, of course. Quirk suppressants were one of the most heavily regulated drugs classes in the world, for a number of reasons. No one wanted a villain to get their hands on a hero's prescription, after all... but it went deeper than that. 'QS Drugs,' as they were commonly known, had a dark fucking history spanning the societal interregnum from the dawn of quirks all the way up to the present day. Japan, especially, didn't like to sully its image as one of the few nations to broadly maintain public order over the last two centuries with the reminder of what had happened to some of those early ostracized individuals born with the first superpowers.

Like with the atrocities committed by Unit 731 during World War Two, you had to tap into foreign sources to get an accurate picture of what had gone down, and the similarities with the military infamous human experimentation division didn't end there.

Not to mention that most QS Drugs weren't even what they were billed as. To be truly effective, these things had to be developed and matched to an individual's specific quirk factor. That process, in turn, took more time and money than almost anyone wanted to commit to a single person.

My father's pills, for instance, were actually a type of neuro-inhibitor that interfered with the manifestation of his quirk's effects and made him safe to move about in public, but taking them without the underlying mental disorder they were supposed to treat meant a host of potentially-dangerous side-effects.

Thankfully, they hadn't had the same effect on my own quirk or I'd likely have an 'emergency' prescription assigned to me. Optimistically, as in my father's case, taking drugs of this type could very well reduce the possibility for public incidents and societal disruption that could very well lead to tragic accidents. Pragmatically, having a prescription assigned to you was a way the government could ensure you were undeniably to blame if something happened and you weren't taking your medicine.

Such cases were rare, but they did happen, usually to people whose quirks were particularly dangerous and difficult to use safely. I'd seen a few portrayals of the potential future League of Villains member Mustard as someone who suffered physical pain unless they expelled some amount of the toxic gas within their bodies. Granted, the narrative purpose of such a reveal had been to make him more sympathetic if a story wanted to use him as a central character, but it'd turned out that had a fair bit of basis in reality.

Not that it actually excused anyone who went off the reservation and caused an incident, but that was another discussion.

I sighed as my father and I settled into the cab, pulling my phone out and putting a single earbud in on the side not facing the other man. I kept a sharp ear out while he gave directions, handing over a slip of paper just to make sure, then let my eyes trail down to the screen in my hand.

[UPDATED MISSION LIST AVAILABLE]

I sighed and tapped the alert, beginning a quick skim of the information available.

Then I scrolled back up and carefully read the entire entry.

My knee began bouncing with anxious energy.

Oh, yeah, sure! Just investigate potential apocalypses! It'll be fine if you poke around in the unforgiving dark where the abominations that warp reality by their mere existence live!

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed deeply.

“Everything okay, Son?” Niko asked, looking over my way. A quick glance at his partially-exploded pupils told me the medicine was working its magic.

“Just some drama on my streaming channel's chat,” I replied with a false casualness. “There are a bunch of... requests for various things that I can't accommodate right now.”

“Well, make sure they understand that, even if they don't like it,” Dad advised with a snort, to which I replied in kind. “As I've always said, do what you can and deal with what you can't do as best as you can.”

I huffed a laugh, finding the wisdom oddly fitting. “I'll keep that in mind, thanks Dad.”

Niko smiled, leaning back in his seat as he tilted his head towards the window and began to stare listlessly out the window. That was probably the last I'd get out of him for a while if the drugs were really kicking in. Given the fact I was feeling the telltale buzz of an oppressive atmosphere fade away, I felt that was likely.

Turning back to my phone, I kicked on a digital playlist and leaned back in my own seat, my mood shifting from subdued panic to quiet contemplation.

I had missions to look out for potential apocalypses. That wasn't optimal, by any means, but I chose to read emphasis on the 'potential' instead of the 'apocalypses.' Especially that fucking plural. But... it could take millennia for the 'stars to become right' or whatever metaphor was in vogue among this world's knowledgeable groups. Which, yeah, there were also a few missions about digging up info on cults, so I had that to look forward to as well.

Many of my current loadout of missions were just too outside my current reach to do anything about, but there were options.

For instance, the one that looked to be my primary money-maker was 'No Rails.' It only paid out a single credit, but I could complete it as many times as I cared to simply by filing a short report on a significant deviation from 'Canon MHA' I'd noticed. That might not seem like much, but it could add up fast depending on my luck.

In addition to that, my discount refund for Mental and Environmental Defenses had finally gone through. Apparently they'd been held up in the bureaucracy while people argued over whether or not my capture of Gigantomachia was legitimate or not since The Company couldn't use any samples from him. In the end, it'd been decided that I would get the discount on the basis that I wasn't going to be receiving any further income from my captures.

Given I didn't particularly want to capture people, even villains, I didn't terribly mind this revision to my contract. I'd still lodge a formal complaint with middle-management to get my Defense Discounts, though, which was probably their rationale. Someone had fucked up and sent me to a world I shouldn't have gone to, violating my contract, and they were trying really hard to not piss me off enough to get Internal Affairs involved.

So while some of the missions were ominous as fuck, others I could complete with relative ease.

If you could read between the lines and had an ounce of creativity, the milk runs were a way to pay me off in the hopes I wouldn't escalate my complaints.

 ...which probably explains why they let me drop into four templates so easily, and a Sidereal at that. I could really raise hell if I lodged a complaint about my initial build being completely wrong for the world they sent me to.

I'd read that document front to back before I'd signed it and knew my rights.

But I also knew I had to work with these people (and not-people) for the foreseeable future. Licenses to exploit worlds weren't cheap and, if I made too much of a stink about it, there were ways to file non-compliance violations against me. That kind of thing would allow them to sell my contract and the world I was on to another department. I was protected against that sort of thing as long as I accomplished something on a routine basis, earned points, purchased Company products, or had good ratings.

I tried not to think about that last one, honestly.

I shook those ruminations off and began filling out mission documents for the changes I'd noticed. I couldn't file for the ones I'd caused, but I still had nine points worth of significant differences I'd managed to pick out after being alerted to the problem.

The internet was a wonderful tool when you knew what you were looking for.

With all that on my mind and a task to set myself to, it was no surprise that the trip went by oddly fast. It felt like practically no time at all before the car was slowing down in front of a large concrete wall and I was removing my earbud in preparation to pull out my ID and Quirk Registration Card. Nominally, at least, Japanese citizens were supposed to have both pieces of information on them at all times and could be asked to produce such by an officer or hero at any time.

It wasn't a rule that everyone observed, but in a society where only a small fraction of the populace drove, it just wasn't feasible to ask for a vehicle operation license as the common form of ID. In the rare instance you were stopped by a cop or hero and didn't have one on you, they tended to either accept something as simple as a library card or student ID in their place or give you a verbal warning. Though, you could be taken into custody for the offense, in theory at least. Though in practice that happened to people who were acting suspiciously almost exclusively.

The exception was, obviously, if you wanted to go somewhere civilians weren't normally allowed.

Which was why I'd double-checked that I had every possible piece of identification necessary on me today.

The officer on duty gave a cursory glance at the driver's paperwork before moving to my father and I. “ID and reason for visit?”

I nudged my father, who complied slowly and languidly. I handed over mine first, causing the cyclopean uniformed man to squint at my father. “Sir, are you on any type of medication?”

My dad blinked, hesitating a moment too long.

I slid over and leaned around him. “He's on Class 3 Quirk Suppressant drugs, sir. I have his prescription if you need it.”

The one-eyed man looked to me, back to my father, then nodded. “I'd like to see that, yes. Does he have any controlled substances on his person at the moment?”

I produced more documentation. “No sir, but I have an emergency dose in a pill bottle in my front pocket. The duration of the dose is eight hours and we're only one hour into it. We've planned to be back home before it expires, but wanted to ensure there wasn't an incident if we were delayed somehow.”

The officer nodded, looking down at the prescription and comparing it to my father's ID and Quirk Registry Card, then visibly wincing at the last. “That's a bad one...” He looked up at my dad. “Sorry about that sir, you have my sympathies.”

Niko shook his head slowly and waved his hand like he was underwater. “Ish all right. Jush... don't wanna' caush accidents.”

The cyclopean officer nodded again, then grabbed a clipboard from inside his guard house. “Shinso family. Visitation for two hours. I have you right here. Alright, you're free to make your way to the side entrance. There will be a series of large blue concrete pillars outside the door you're supposed to use. I'll also warn you that any unauthorized quirk use on the premises will be considered a Class 1 Felony of the highest order and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

My dad's head bobbed. “Know the deal. Been here... lots.”

“Thank you for the warning, officer,” I stated, and the guard nodded towards me.

Then he was waving us through and we were inside the prison grounds.

Yes, prison. No, I didn't want to talk about it. Or think about it.

Suffice to say, if I'd wanted to justify going villain to myself, I'd have had all the excuses in the world.

The Company really has a gift for being bastards even when they aren't actually trying.

It was a short wait. Japanese social etiquette lived and died by timetables and appointments. Being late was rude, and rudeness was a sin, almost literally. My breath caught as I glimpsed Hito-no, as I glimpsed my mother for the first time in three years.

Shinso Hinako stiffened as she saw me, taking quick and orderly steps before crashing into me and releasing a noise that wasn't quite a sob. I felt her breath against my ear as she spoke. “Niko told me you were coming, but...”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, trying to center myself against the unexpected surge of emotions as I wrapped my arms around her in return. “I'm sorry I haven't been by recently, Mom.”

“I-it's okay, Hitoshi. You...” She shook her head. “It's okay.”

She was... smaller than I remembered her being. That was probably just the years apart talking, though. I'd grown quite a bit since I was twelve, as all children tend to do. I was even a bit taller than her now, only by a few centimeters, but...

My eyes still stung at the thought of all the lost time.

“Hinako,” my dad sighed, coming in for his own hug.

I luxuriated in the quiet moment of being an actual family.

“Look at you, you're so big now,” Mom sighed sadly, pulling away from me as she looked me up and down more carefully. “Time seems to move so quickly.”

“He's growing up fast,” Dad chuckled, coming back to himself a little as Mom grounded him. I remembered the way it had been... before. They were good for each other. “Even got a girlfriend.”

I winced as my mother turned a curious gaze on me, then sighed and pulled out my phone. “Her name's Toga Himiko. We've been on one date. Dad hasn't even met her yet.”

Hinako took my phone and smiled at the image. Himiko had insisted on a selfie with her 'boyfriend' to show off to people who asked her out. I'd acquiesced because... well, I was a secret agent from an interdimensional hypercorp, not a monk. Every guy wanted a picture of a cute girl on their phone.

“Tell me all about her,” Hinako requested, gesturing to the bench.

I did as requested, even if my version of the truth had some careful edits and omissions. After that, we talked about other things. My channel made it into the discussion, as did my desire to try for UA next year. Dad talked a little about his business, then we exchanged early Christmas gifts. Mom had apparently made me a dream catcher in the prison's crafts class. For the sake of safety, I kept it simple and gave her some expensive chocolate. Dad had apparently ensured it was okay to get her a new sweater she could wear in her room.

Two hours were over too soon.

...

I stared at the new mission.

Jailhouse Rock: Bastards are we? Would bastards reward you for getting your mom out of jail? Well, considering we don’t care if you do it legally or not, probably.  Anyway, Shinso Hinako has five years left of a ten years sentence unfairly handed down to her.  Every year you shave off that sentence with an early release gets you ten points, how about that?  In other words, if you accomplish the goal of securing her release in the next twelve months, we’ll give you 50 points.  A year after that, 40 points.  And so on until you fail the mission if she’s released after her tenth year.  Never say we didn’t do anything nice for you, okay?

I clenched my fist so hard the phone's screen cracked.

Not that it mattered.

...

For only being away for some five-odd hours, I was completely spent.

Perhaps not physically, but on a mental and emotional level, absolutely.

Which meant it was time to monetize my trauma.

My computer, freshly installed heatsinks and all, booted up in a matter of seconds. It had been one of my major projects since 'recovering' from the abduction and even if it hadn't been running at full capacity, I'd been able to get some work done. Specifically, the new OS I'd coded on a variant of linux and the isolated sub-system that could emulate the Windows-derived OS that was creatively called Skylight.

Apparently, Windows had been cooperating too closely with an anti-quirk administration in the USA back during the 2050s and their corporate headquarters had been leveled by a pro-quirk militia group, with special attention paid to the executive board to 'set an example.'

“Hey Demons. It's me, ya boi,” I stated, one hand shifting my mask in place to ensure it was comfortable as the other adjusted the camera.

The feed began coming alive as I made a few small adjustments. “Hmm... okay, looks like the new setup is running smoothly, so we'll be moving back to the regular schedule. Sorry for the delays in getting the new computer up and running and thank you for your patience.”

A string of comments caught my attention.

I took another moment to further fine-tune the audio. “Testing, testing... one, two, three... that better? Good. I swear, no matter how much you try things out beforehand, they always bug out the moment you go live.”

I glanced at one of the other two monitors I had installed and watched as it started populating fields based on the forums, social media, and message boards I'd scraped. The information wouldn't be perfect, of course, but it would give me more than enough to start out with. Both on the side of vigilantism and, for the purposes of disclaiming the weirdness I'd be delving into, what I'll call 'urban exploration.'

“Alright, so... there's doubtless going to be more problems on the horizon, but we'll tackle those as we move forward. What was on the docket for tonight was... an AMA.” I groaned theatrically and put my head in one of my hands. “This will be fun. Okay, shoot.”

Making a come-hither motion at the screen, I looked into the chat and picked a question at random.

I had a few hours to fill until I was sure my dad wouldn't notice me sneaking out, after all.

~~~

Okay, quick look at the poll and some mental math... Industrious looks like its retaken the crown for the moment. There are a couple of hours to go before I make the final tally, but that's how it's looking now. Mind Games is a solid second, then New Ron, Where Your God Is, and Nexus Event.

So what's probably going to happen next week (barring a sudden upset) is a chapter of Winning Peace and a chapter of Industrious. I'll see about getting back into the Naruto continuity for that one, but it might be the Marvel side of things.

In the meantime, though, please enjoy the further antics of Hitoshi and his suffering. I have a thread to create over on QQ. Look for that in a bit.