Slayer Anderson

Industrious: Engineering Marvels - Chapter 28

“It still following us?” Logan grunted, reloading his rifle and pistol.

The truck jumped with an impact like an earthquake.

“I think it's still following us!” Bucky yelled back, leaning out the passenger's side and shooting a handful of bullets at the giant robot.

A mechanical whine filled the air.

“It's shooting again!” I warned unnecessarily as Steve swerved out of the way and off the road.

Immediately afterwards, a beam of coruscating energy slashed through where our transport van had been just a moment before. The truck rocked wildly, both with the uneven field we were plowing through and the nearby impact of the energy cannon mounted in the robot's chest.

“Fuck! You're gonna' blow an axle, Rogers!” Victor shouted.

“It's the axle or our lives!” Steve replied, shifting the stick and swerving us back onto the road before kicking up a cloud of dirt as he poured on the speed.

Meanwhile, I took a few slow breaths and took a crouch at the back of the transport, one knee pressing against the wooden boards that made up the floor of the cargo area. My bow was in my hands and an arrow was strung, one of the explosive ones. I was trying to ration them, but also knew how important it was to incapacitate that goddamn cannon.

“C'mon... c'mon...” I muttered, the words completely lost to the awful din surrounding us.

The robot was a lumbering giant in the night, not helped by the fact that – although it hadn't been enough to incapacitate it fully – the mass of explosive tags I'd set in it's leg had basically blown the entire thing off below the knee, leaving only a sparking mass of wiring and raw machinery.

As a result, the machine was engaging in a kind of loping crawl that shook the Earth with each grasping impact as it used its arms to pull itself forward in a desperate bid to catch up with us. While I very much doubted my ability to put the thing down here and now given how much damage my best attempt had done when I'd been able to plant it inside the damn thing... well, if I could damage one of its arms, that would slow it down substantially.

Also? It might stop it from firing that fucking chest cannon.

I took another slow breath, forcing myself to absorb the shocks of the road instead of fight them. I needed to be as steady as I possibly could.

Then the giant robot reared back to make another lunging step-

“There!” I breathed out, releasing the energy on the bow.

-thunk-

“BOOM!”

“Great shot, Ray!” Nina shouted at me over the noise of the fight.

“It do anything?!” Logan roared, bringing his rifle up as the smoke began clearing.

The moon wasn't quite full in the sky above us, but it was more than halfway there and I couldn't make out any serious cloud cover, either. So, while the visual conditions weren't ideal, basically everyone in the transport was some sort of superhuman on top of actually having some sort of light to see by.

Then the great metallic beast burst through the smoke cloud created by my exploding arrow and came crashing down on the road behind us-

-and his left arm buckled.

His chest crashed into the muddy road with a resounding splat.

“Take that, you sunnovabitch!” Victor howled, flipping the downed machine off.

“It's still getting back up,” I cautioned them, even as Steve slowed a bit. The machine was crippled slightly more, the area I'd shot sparking and shooting fluid, but not completely broken.

“As long as it can't shoot that fucking cannon at us again, I'll take it,” Logan sighed, snapping up his rifle and plinking a shot or two off its head.

“Don't waste ammo!” Steve shouted back.

“Just making sure it knows we haven't forgotten about it!” Logan chuckled harshly, earning a playful shove from his brother.

“Keep it pissed off, but watch your ammo count,” Bucky backed Steve up. “We're still in hostile territory, even if we've got a fucking giant robot chasing us. We aren't getting caught with our pants down if-”

“German patrol!” Steve shouted.

Now, if this were a sitcom, Bucky would have laughed and nodded at Steve, agreeing that a 'German patrol' was a definite possibility. After all, we were far behind enemy lines, making a hellish amount of noise, and the occasional cannon blasts from the thing in the giant's chest were basically ultra-bright flares that had gone up a half-dozen times. Steve screaming out something about a German patrol essentially on cue was a heck of a comedy bit.

But none of us were stupid enough to believe that our Boy Scout of a leader would actually pull something like that.

Maybe Dougan? Nah, that's not fair... Dino might, though. He loves his bad jokes.

Instead of any of that, though, there was a round of cursing as we all turned away from the struggling robot still chasing after us, and saw a roadblock of German trucks setting itself up, screaming at us to stop.

“Hold on to something! I'm pushing through!” Steve shouted.

Gunshots rang out, adding even more noise to the chaos, accompanying the sound of broken glass as the windshield was shot out.

“Shoot the fuckers!” Bucky added on, which was an entirely reasonable order.

After all, a group of professional soldiers were much less likely to actually get good shots on you if you were shooting back at them.

Being – by far – the worst shot of the group, I just hunkered down and kept one eye on the robot. As deadly as Germans with guns were, someone needed to pay attention to the other deadly menace bearing down on us.

But that didn't mean I couldn't help out at least a little.

“Flare!” I warned as I selected one of the arrows in question.

“Do it!” Steve shouted back.

I leaned out the back of the transport, wrapped my legs onto the drop-down ramp and momentarily turned my spine into a pretzel as I twisted to one side and pulled the bow taught. Thankfully, it was an easy enough shot that didn't require much distance or accuracy. My arrow flew through the intervening space, sparking as it went, before piercing the hood of a German jeep and bursting into an eye-scorching miniature star.

Their screams of alarm and pain as retinas were seared rang out like music to my ears.

Then I relaxed my back and I was hanging off the back of the transport staring as the goddamn giant robot took another flying leap at us.

“It's gaining again!” I shouted.

“Get back in the fucking car, dumbass!” Logan cried out, reaching down and clenching his fist in my uniform's shirt. With a superhuman heave, I was pulled up from where I'd been hanging and nearly thrown back into the rear of the transport.

Then the vehicle bounced.

And bounced again.

A few more stray shots rang out.

Then we were through and I could see the light of the smoldering flare behind us. Oh, and also the robot was smashing through the German blockade they'd set up.

“Call out, anyone injured!?” Bucky shouted, cursing as he fished for more bullets.

“Nothing that won't heal,” Victor replied, spitting blood out the back of the transport. Even if his words were louder than normal, they weren't quite at the level of shouting. Now that we'd passed the Germans and put some more distance between us and the bot, my ears were almost ringing with the sudden comparative quiet.

“Same,” Logan replied, one hand held to his side red with blood.

“Uh... I'm good?” Nina asked, her head popping up from cover like a curious animal.

“Same,” I stated, giving myself a rudimentary check.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, turning to his friend.

“Just a bit of shrapnel, barely made it past the costume, shield caught most of it,” Steve shook his head. “I'll be fine. You?”

“A bit of glass,” our 2IC replied, the sound of tinkling shards almost lost against the various noises in the distance and the wind now blowing freely through the driver's cabin and back out onto the road behind us. “Nothing much else.”

“You know, I'd like just one mission that wasn't fucked from the get-go,” Logan groused, pulling out a cigar and snipping the tip off with a flash of a bone-white blade before lighting up. I guessed it was a mark of just how much he trusted our little section of the squad that he didn't even try to hide the motion.

Our eyes met, and I shrugged, taking the opportunity to pop open my canteen.

“How far are we from this ridge, anyway?” Victor asked, popping open a pack of cigarettes.

“Ten miles,” Nina stated, holding up a map, before turning to me. “How'd you know about this, anyway?”

“I'm a history buff,” I replied with a sigh, casting one eye towards the robot as it tried to catch up. Granted, it was making progress. Even as crippled as it was, though, it was faster than a transport from the forties could go on muddy roads in a war-torn countryside at night. But the destruction of the German blockade had bought us time, at least. “My hobby is basically knowing all of the weird facts that I can cram in my head and, with my ninja skills, I tend to find out about a lot of stuff no one else knows.”

“That's amazing!” Nina's eyes widened, her glowing irises large in the dim night.

“Pull the other one, it's got bells on it,” Victor growled, spitting another wad of blood out over the back of the vehicle.

“Vic,” Logan cautioned, looking over at me.

The blond man rolled his eyes. “Look, his entire story is a crock of shit and the entire squad knows it. I don't know what the fuck is actually up with him, but I'm going to call him out if he lies to my face.”

I clicked my tongue as Steve swerved slightly, probably to avoid a bad pothole.

“That's a national secret, Creed,” the Captain called out. “Bucky and I know what's going on with Ray, he's on the level.”

“Toldya,” Logan grunted as he stared out the back, the robot gaining on us, but no longer able to easily and quickly position his chest-cannon. “Rogers and Barnes wouldn't put up with some kind of mole or spook.”

Victor snorted derisively. “Well sorr~reee for callin' shit as I see it.”

Nina, whose head had been twisting constantly between us, finally settled on me again. “Is that true, Ray? Everything's a lie?”

I winced slightly, mostly for effect, but sighed and shook my head. “A lot of the specifics are the same, even if the names got swapped around. Like, the rich girl I had a thing with back home? Her name was Satsuki. Her parents were actually pretty okay with me hanging around because I was a prodigy, but... well, some stuff happened – ninja magic bullshit – and I can't get back home.”

“Can't?” Nina asked, frowning. “Because it's in Japan or something?”

I grimaced, looked to Bucky – we traded shrugs – and shook my head again. “Nah, think... Alice in Wonderland or Wizard of Oz type deal. My home was a place called Konohagakure – the Village Hidden in the Leaves – but I got into a fight with an evil spirit and got kicked out of that world and into another one.”

Pausing, I gave a wry grin. “Basically, this whole world isn't my 'Kansas,' to quote Dorothy.”

“You know I have to tell the General about this when we get back, right?” Steve asked tiredly. “I can't just disobey orders from the President, Ray.”

“Holy shit... you're serious,” Victor stated, blinking at me.

I grinned.

It wasn't as though Steve, Bucky, and I hadn't planned this out – with Peggy, admittedly. My fake backstory was paper thin, literally in most places. There were a hundred holes that were only plausible because of the general chaos of the war and the constant loss or classification of paperwork by a dozen different departments.

Even General Phillips was in on it, or at least he'd been notified about the possibility of needing a cover story for the cover story.

Konoha made a wild enough tale that no one would ask about the truth underneath the truth. It explained away a lot of my weirdness and gave me a believable cover for many of my unique skills and powers. The actual knowledge about various things... well, most of that would be eclipsed by the revelation that I was from another world. And the stuff that I legitimately had no way of knowing about? Well, I was a ninja. We were deceptive by our very nature. I was allowed to have secrets, almost obligated to do so in fact, and I'd tell that to their faces knowing they'd look for a more mundane explanation given how weird my life already was. No one would look past that for further weirdness.

No one would look underneath the underneath.

Heh.

“I'll be damned,” Logan muttered, then snorted and cursed. “Shit, I had money on you being some kind of spy from Japan who'd flipped on them. I lost the pot.”

“You guys have been gambling on Ray's identity!?” Steve shouted, sounding morally outraged and other boy scout emotions.

I snorted, “Yeah, Bucky's been keeping me tied into things. Some of their ideas have been pretty funny.”

Victor threw his nearly-dead cig away in disgust, pulling out a new one. “Fuck, I'm out too. I thought you were some weird experiment cooked up by that Stark guy. Maybe a robot.”

I outright laughed at that, Nina giggling along with me.

Vic's guess had been one of the more creative that wasn't just absolutely insane.

“So, wait... how do you know about these mines on this ridge if you're not even from out world?” Nina asked, frowning.

I just chuckled, still grinning. “I wasn't lying about liking history, I did even back in my world. When I got here, I picked up a bunch of books on your first world war and rifled through a lot of old reports I swiped from military storage.”

I stopped, cocked my head, and shrugged. “Well, that and it's generally considered common sense for most shinobi to know where large stockpiles of explosives are at any given time. Never know when you'll need something wiped off the face of the planet.”

“Now that?” Vic asserted, pointing to me with his lit cigarette. “That? I can believe.”

Then the earth shook violently and we all jerked towards the back of the truck.

“For fuck's sake-” Logan spat, shouldering his rifle.

“Are we there yet?” I asked, turning back to the front.

“We're actually pretty close!” Steve shouted in reply. “Give Ray the map, I need closer directions!”

I took the folded up stack of papers from Nina and narrowed my gaze as I forced my eyes to adjust to read the small words and trace the terrain lines. Combined with my half-remembered knowledge of the area from Google Earth...

“Okay, there should be a path coming up on your right!” I shouted. “Take it!”

“There!” Bucky cried.

“I see it!” Steve affirmed as the earth shook behind us once again. “Hold on, this looks like it's barely a goat path!”

He swerved and we started climbing a steep incline.

“So how do we set these explosives off, anyway?” Nina asked loudly, looking around our group.

“We bundle all of the explosives we've got left, throw it at the thing, and drive like hell once they're dropped,” Bucky replied sharply.

“And if that doesn't work?” Logan asked, frowning as he began pulling together grenades and explosives we hadn't used on the Hydra base. “What then? This shit is supposed to be thirty years old, isn't it? How do we know it's still good, anyway?”

“Besides it being the only idea we've got short of leading it to the Channel and seeing if it swims?” I asked rhetorically. “There was an article in a paper I saw about how the French are still digging up explosives from the war and they go off all the time when they get plowed up when tilling fields. We don't need all of the explosives to still be good, just enough.”

“And given that there's tons of the stuff buried under this hill? Odds are pretty good,” Steve stated.

Besides, if the first plan didn't work, I had a backup. Although I'd used up every tag I had to blow off the damn things lower leg, I hadn't pulled off the ones that were currently charging on my body.

My true last ace in the hole.

I hoped I didn't need them, honestly. It was going to be a complete pain in the ass building up a new stockpile, but if it was a choice between that and dying, I'd burn my last tags on a bolt of lighting.

As we crested the hill and the explosives were strung together with mechanical timers set, we rolled the device out onto the top of the ridge, the transport stopping briefly for us to unload.

“It's coming!” Nina cried, looking down the incline.

“Almost done!” I shouted back, Bucky planting the last timer.

“Go! Gogogogo!” He cried, and we leaped into the back of the truck.

“Drive!” I shouted, the vehicle already peeling out dirt as the entire hill started to shake from the clumsy climb of the crippled robot.

We got halfway down before the world went white and the transport left the ground in a blast of noise and light.

Either I hit something or something hit me, because my world went black.

The next thing I knew, I was laying on the open ground, staring at the sky.

“-ay! Ray! Hold on!” Steve shouted desperately. “Can you hear me!?”

I blinked, pain coursing through my waking mind as I looked down at my torso, only to find one of the two mutant brother's rifles sticking out of it.

I groaned and let my head loll back.

“Ray, don't you dare fucking die on me!” Steve shouted, my ears still ringing so much that I could barely hear him.

“I'm not fucking dying!” I barked out tired, actively twisting muscles and tissue to bind the wound. “Ugh... gotta... cut the nerves... ah!”

Instantly, I felt the pain fade to a shadow of itself. Then I sighed. “Fuck... it hit a kidney, that's going to be a pain to fix. Ugh... we kill the thing, at least?”

Steve, still breathing harshly, swallowed as he seemed to take in that I wasn't immediately on the verge of death. “Take a look for yourself.”

I blinked and slowly turned my head to where a gaping maw of earth was torn open some distance away from where our totaled transport now lay on its side. Large chunks of the giant robot now lay strewn about, embedded in the soft earth around us.

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” I sighed, “How's everyone else?”

“You got the worst of it,” Bucky groaned, limping towards us with Nina's help. “Vic and Logan are... putting themselves back together. They say they'll be up in a few minutes, at least.”

“We'll have to improvise a stretcher,” Steve started and I cut him off.

“No, I've got another pair of tags on me. Let me get them and I'll close the wound at least. If it's not actively bleeding, I can manage a walk back,” I sighed. “Just get ready to pull the goddamn gun out of me, okay?”

Steve looked like he was going to fight me for a moment, then sighed as his shoulders slumped. “If you're sure. Hard-headed idiot.”

“Oh and Steve?” I asked as he moved around to grip the stock of the weapon.

“Yeah?”

“I want at least a month's leave after this shitshow,” I told the man firmly. “I am sick and tired of being undergunned for this mad science bullshit.”

“You and me both, Ray,” Steve sighed. “You and me both.”

~~~

Yeah, as I said, things got a little hectic leading up to Halloween, so this is a bit late.

I should have the polls out in an hour or two after this post. Kind of surprised I managed to put things together as quickly as I did.

Anyway! Here's the end of this arc for Engineering Marvels. There's likely going to be a short timeskip of a few months after this, possibly with a 'downtime chapter' to bridge things and fill in some gaps.

Hope everyone enjoys and had a Happy Halloween!

Mind Games - Chapter 43

And I Love You, Random Citizen!: Become a hero. Or, at least, get into hero school. Doesn’t have to be UA. In fact, if it’s not UA, we’ll give you double the rewards listed. Be original, why don’t you? Anyway, if you manage to get into UA and attend at least one full day of classes, we’ll let you upgrade your chosen Binding to the next level. Yes, we’re offering you something you don’t want for something you’re going to do anyway, suck it. Shiketsu or whatever gets you two Binding upgrades.

Binding Upgrade: Absolute Obedience

Refund: 40 Credits

Buy: Psychic & Communication Talent Sharing -20 Credits

Bank: 20 Credits

You Too, Can Be A Hero!: Successfully get Toga Himiko into a hero school.  That means she has to keep a relatively clean criminal record, pass the entrance and practical exams, and show up for at least one full day of classes. If Eraserhead decides to be a dick again this year and fails the entire class, well… at least you tried?  Take Talent Sharing [YOUR CHOICE] for Free.

-Martial Talent

Save the Unicorn Princess!: Look, we’re obligated to offer a mission to save Eri.  She’s adorable.  As long as you play a significant role in her salvation from the hands of Overhaul and the Shie Hassaikai, we’ll award you ten points.  If you, yourself, personally rescue her, we’ll bump the rewards up to fifty points.  Try not to get turned into a picasso by the lunatic in the mask.

“You've got Hitoshi,” I spoke into the phone as I picked it up.

“You suck,” Velma stated.

“Don't hate the player, hate the game,” I replied dryly, preoccupied with what was on my screens. “Got anything beyond complaints?”

“Yeah, we're adding a rider on your contract so you can't just refund mission rewards-”

“Not without my approval, you're not,” I stated. “And I don't give it. I'll send you the relevant clause if you want.”

“God-fucking-jinkies-dammit!” She cried, and I heard her slam a fist against a table.

“Wanna' tell me why we're being adversarial or should we keep playing this game until further notice?” I asked plainly.

“...” The woman on the other end was quiet as I waited her out. “We're not attempting to deliberately sabotage you, Hitoshi.”

“Cool, then you'll finish processing my refund, right?” I asked, yawning loudly.

“Fine,” Velma nearly spat and - I could tell - made to hang up.

“Before you go, quick question,” I interjected. “Do clones or robot duplicates count for captures?”

The line was quiet for a moment, then my handler hummed, the noise hinting at a curiosity despite her earlier irritation. “It depends. Full clone, powers intact?”

I cocked my head, thinking over the scenario I was plotting out, “Gonna’ go with yes, at least as a hypothetical.”

“Then, yeah, they’d count,” Velma stated firmly.  “They’re are some edge-cases as to whether they count as the same person, exactly, but that depends on if they’ve had enough time to grow and develop as their own separate entity. As long as the clone or robot duplicate is capable of everything the original was, they’d count as a valid capture target. That everything you needed?”

I clicked my tongue in disappointment, I’d been hoping that wasn’t the case.  “Yep.”

The line went dead shortly after.

I pulled the phone away, gave it a lingering look, then shrugged. Was that satisfying? Yes. Would I be paying for it later? Also yes. But, that had been the goal in agreeing to rewrite my contract. I didn't think I was going to outwit a multidimensional hypercorp with uploaded intelligence lawyers on tap or anything, but that hadn't stopped me from trying.

Because I wanted to see if I could.

The attempt alone would tell me very interesting things.

And when some of my loopholes had made it through? Well, I'd known something was up.

“Someone's playing games,” I hummed thoughtfully as I stared at my monitors. Long nights were nothing new to me, but I was very much looking forward to my bed after a long first day at UA and an even longer chat with the agency's legal department. It felt longer, at least. Thankfully they'd been on my side about the whole mess and just needed me to fill out the relevant forms.

Weighing heavier on my mind were my affairs with my real backers. My first guess was office politics. I knew enough about The Company to be able to say that it wasn't a monolith. There were patronage networks, kickbacks, corruption... all pretty standard things to encounter in the corporate world. In that understanding, my situation – being dropped in a world I wasn't supposed to be in – had caused someone problems and they were taking it out on me.

But they couldn't look like they were taking it out on me.

In other words, they wanted a low-key toxic work environment.

To what end? I wasn't sure. The traditional response from an employee who got sick of their boss' shit was to quit and look for new work, transfer to a new branch to get away from their former management, or go postal and shoot the place up in a blaze of glory. The first and third options were out, given they'd likely end in my untimely demise.

But the second? A transfer?

Velma had admitted that 'my branch' just wasn't equipped to handle the shit I was sending their way and, due to the terms of my contract, they couldn't transfer me against my will. I had no idea how 'valuable' I was as a resource to the higher ups or which other branches would be interested in my service, if any. Were the easy missions they'd given me an attempt to make me a more tempting prospect to poach?

I'd need to do research.

Which meant tabling the matter for now, since I didn't have the time to hit The Company's lounge to gather intel at the moment. Still, it was something to keep in mind, even as I transferred twenty of the credits I'd earned to two copies of Talent Sharing, plus the one I got from Himiko's mission. I'd been on the fence about picking up anything like that until later, but if I was being forced to build a harem, I'd at least make it worthwhile for the girls to join up.

My mind immediately turned to Kyoka, but... I'd let her sit for a bit longer.

My decision to pursue her was fundamentally selfish, after all. I'd back off if she ultimately refused, but I also wouldn't sabotage my own attempt. If I was going to end up with a harem instead of being allowed to pair off quietly with Himiko, then I'd damn well select women I found attractive.

But more importantly...

There were other irons I had in the fire.

I folded away The Company's documents and opened up the files on Jaku Hospital.

There was quite a bit of information given how easy a target it was. As I was beginning to appreciate, most digital defenses simply weren't up to the degree of penetration I could bring to bear, especially with Himiko's ability to code properly utilized. Simply dropping a USB loaded with hidden files in a target's parking lot was usually enough to get me full access to their systems.

It certainly had with Garaki's hospital.

Which presented an entirely new problem.

The Nomu facilities... weren't there. Or, rather, the elaborate basement structures that would house them were present and intact, but not active in any way. In fact, I'd wager to bet that they were completely empty if I actually went down there to take a look.

How would I know that?

Well, I'd give Garaki some basic points for deciding to hide his monstrous experiments underneath a hospital. It solved a lot of logistical issues and lowered exposure of the operation to a significant degree. Most of the equipment needed to create the Nomu, for instance, was medical in nature. No one outside of a specialist in the field who was actually familiar with the devices and their applications would actually notice anything amiss should that same medical equipment be shipped to a medical center.

IE: If you don't want a specific book found, hide it in the stacks in a library and it's automatically camouflaged.

There were things you couldn't hide, though.

Utilities, for instance.

Power, water, electrical, gas, bandwidth draw for internet use... but that could be solved by having the director of the facility sign off on the anomalously-high bills and shutting down any investigation thereof on his side. The companies themselves? Well, they tended not to ask questions as long as the money kept flowing.

No, the only people who would scrutinize excessive utility use were the authorities, and barely anyone actually pulled records to go line by line anymore. Even during the darkest part of the Dark Age, rudimentary algorithms were still available to pull data and turn it into easy graphs. Even if someone performed that check on Jaku, though, they'd see that the hospital's usage rates had held steady for the past three years.

To truly notice that anything was amiss, someone would have to pull the hospital's utility bills for the past decade and compare them to average usage numbers and financing of other hospitals in similar situations across the country.

Only then would an analyst notice that there was a sudden and permanent dip in utility use across the board three years ago.

I took a deep breath and rubbed at my face, staring blankly at the ceiling of my room as I spoke my conclusion aloud. “Okay, so Garaki shut down the Nomu lab underneath the hospital three years ago. I'm putting long odds on him just turning a new leaf, so... he moved it somewhere else. That begs the questions: Why, How, and Where To?”

I drummed my fingers on the arm rest of the chair thoughtfully.

“How is the easiest,” I stated. “Either Kurogiri or Johnny. Or another Nomu with some kind of transporting quirk that he created. I can't get complacent and think those are the only two solutions.”

“Why?” I hummed, not coming up with anything conclusive. “He could have had a brush with being discovered. Or the requirements of his operations could have changed. Considering the setup he had at Jaku, I'm leaning more towards the second than the first. It'd be highly unlikely for a hero to stumble across his basement laboratory complex, realize what he was looking at, and survive to escape and report it. Still, I'll need to check records of any hero who's died at the hospital. Government officials, too. There might be something there, especially if he marked it down as a sudden heart attack or stroke.”

The other possibility... he'd needed to change venues because there was something he needed that wasn't available at the hospital. What changed, though? Jaku had great camouflage, a position of authority for him to cover up problems, easy access to new subjects and excuses for otherwise inexplicable deaths to provide him material, and an already-extant supply chain to cover his logistics.

“So something changed a few years ago,” I stated, frowning. “Garaki pulled up all his experiments, moved to a new location that provided him with something he was missing, and he's been completely in the wild since then.”

That last part stung particularly badly.

Because I'd... mildly fucked up. Nothing disastrous, but something very troublesome all the same. When I'd captured Garaki, I'd largely put it out of my mind. As I wasn't suicidal, it was a hard thing to capitalize on at the time. There was the outside chance that I'd be able to pull a dungeon bypass and have Garaki capture All for One, but... it was a very slim chance indeed.

Looking back, I was glad I hadn't tried.

Because Garaki had a strict schedule. He kept diligent office hours, saw to patients with mechanical precision, took his meals with a timing and regularity down to the minute, and even excused himself for bathroom breaks with startling punctuality. Then, every day, retired to a private suite within the hospital itself and went to bed.

For eight hours.

On the dot.

I sighed, deeply, and stared up at the ceiling again. “Fucker made a goddamn Doom-Bot, didn't he?”

I paused. “Or maybe it should be a cylon? Especially if it doesn't know it's a robotic duplicate. Hmm... nah, I'm in a superhero-verse, it's a Doom-Bot.”

Although, honestly, it would probably be something more along the lines of a clone, though maybe one with limited sentience. The man worked with organics mainly, not robotics, and he’d been shown to be able to duplicate quirks as well. The difficult part would have been copying over enough knowledge to have it run mostly-independently of the genuine article, but Garaki probably could have custom-crafted a Nomu for that kind of task if he was motivated enough.

With that pressing question resolved, I'd need to make up my mind on what to do about this entirely new mess.

“So, to summarize... I need to sneak into the basement of Jaku Hospital and prove what I already know to be the case; that Garaki has entirely evacuated his laboratory and Nomu-production facilities. I also need to come up with a way to verify my deduction that the Garaki currently operating Jaku is actually some sort of biomechanical replacement, which may or may not involve me bombing a hospital and faking its death.” I stopped speaking for a moment, then nodded.

“Oh, and of course I need to find out where Quirk Mengele has gotten to in the three years since Jaku has been abandoned as his base of operations, which I can hopefully find clues to in basement or on the Garaki-bot himself,” I added, my mind already working at placing possible points for where he might be hiding now.

Unless his modus operandi had radically changed, he'd need many of the same requirements Jaku had offered him.

So that meant I'd be predominantly looking at hospitals, colleges, military bases – operating or defunct, and... potentially somewhere like a museum or a data center.

“I really hope All for One didn't downsize his ego and realize that becoming a government stooge for a decade or two would be the easiest way to subvert the existing establishment and replace it with his own,” I groaned, standing and making my way back to my bedroom in the Shinso family home.

“Problems for Future-Hitoshi,” I muttered, stripping down and dropping into bed. “I need some goddamn sleep after today.”

…

“Yo, Bootstrap!”

I turned and waved at the white-haired boy in the UA uniform.

“Oh, it's Ooishi-kun!” Himiko called at my side, waving as well.

“Hey, glad to see you got in,” I nodded at him, “Himiko said you were in her homeroom?”

Well, 'said' is doing some heavy lifting there.

Really, my girlfriend had just sent me a general dossier of her classmates names and observed quirks, which she'd taken the measure of during their own assessment test after lunch.

“Yeah! This is so freaking great, man!” Tsuki grinned widely, though his expression faltered almost immediately. “I heard about your class, though, that's too bad.”

I shrugged. “Wasn't there to see the blowout, so it's not much on my end.”

“Everyone who didn't go with your teacher basically started a shouting contest when the principal told them they were expelled,” Tsuki explained, grimacing. “I really thought I lost out not being in your class, but man did I get lucky on that one. Eraserhead sounds like a complete asshole.”

“You fuck around, you find out,” I snorted, shaking my head. “An expulsion is basically nothing compared to what would happen if you disregarded a pro-hero's orders in the field. Someone could be permanently maimed, killed, or the villain could get away to commit more crimes after the engagement.”

Tsuki frowned, reaching up to rub at his chin. “When you put it that way... yeah, I didn't really think about it like that. It sucks, but I can see the logic. Still doesn't seem fair to do that to a bunch of students...”

I opened my mouth to explain, then thought better of it. If this was coming out of his mouth, it was probably the prevailing thought of 1-B as a whole. “Tell you what, why don't you ask your teacher. Vlad King, right? See what he has to say about what Eraserhead did.”

Himiko giggled next to me as she cuddled my arm, trying to get in as much PDA as she could before we were separated. “I'll see Hitoshi at lunch, right? You were gone yesterday and all I got was a text, meanie!”

I rolled my eyes at the theatricality while Tsuki hunched as he snickered. “Yes, Himiko, I'll be at lunch tomorrow. Aizawa sent us home after the assessment test so that he could head off the rest of our class coming to complain. He said it was 'only logical' to give us the rest of the day to process what had happened and what being committed to heroism really meant.”

...personally, though? I think he just wanted to take a nap.

Himiko hummed. “Well he's a jerk for making me eat without you!”

“I'll be sure to inform him of your complaint,” I replied dryly.

“So, hey...” Tsuki began awkwardly. “You're like... big news, right? I looked up your channel on HeroTube after the entrance exam and everything, great stuff. But didn't you, um... try to keep any of the class from marching off?”

“Tried, and failed,” I nodded with a shrug. “I honestly thought my reputation would have brought a few of them over, but curiously none of them seemed to think too highly of me. Even if I know a few of them recognized me.”

“That's weird,” Himiko pursed her lips and cocked her head, tapping a finger against her chin in a pose I vaguely recognized from a modeling commercial. It was for a brand that was generally considered 'very cute' by contemporary standards, though, so I wasn't at all surprised Himiko had stolen it. “Our class has a bunch of Hitoshi's super-fans in it.”

I made an understanding noise in the back of my throat, then chuckled, amused at the information. It was extraneous, so Himiko hadn't bothered to mark it down, but the revelation was also entirely unsurprising in this context.

I sense the invisible hand of a certain rodent of questionable species at play...

Of course, it could have been a statistical anomaly, but I doubted it. The easiest explanation was that Nezu was simply honoring the real reason behind my presence at UA... socialization. Being in a classroom with people who thought of me as a celebrity would make it easy for someone of my state-recorded intelligence to pretend to make friends instead of form actual relationships.

So someone had put their furry little claw on the scale and tipped the odds against me being able to depend on a few hangers-on to camouflage my lack of social relationships. If nothing else, the discovery was something of a balm to my ability to social skills. I'd thought I'd been playing on easy mode and someone had swapped the difficulty to something much higher without my knowledge.

“What's funny?” Tsuki asked, his white brows furrowing.

“Ah... nothing too important,” I shook my head. “I'll tell you about it some other time. It looks like we've got to split for classes anyway.”

“Oh, yep! See you at lunch?” Ooishi asked, receiving an easy nod in response.

“Me first, though!” Himiko chirped, then slid up my side and pressed her lips against my mouth guard in a quick peck, making the other boy blush. Golden cat-slit eyes narrowed at me warningly before she nodded happily and bounced off down the hallway I wasn't taking.

“Uh... you've got a little-” The white-haired teen stated awkwardly, motioning to his face.

“Yeah, I know,” I nodded, marching off without further clarification.

In short order, I was back in 1-A and things were looking just as bleak and tedious as they had been at the close of yesterday's test. Sakura was folded over his desk, his head on his hands and lightly snoring. He'd taken his blazer off entirely and thrown it over his shoulders like a blanket instead.

Neiko had stolen another chair from the mass of empty desks in the room and propped her feet up on it. The only reason she wasn't using her own desk was probably because of the skirt she was wearing. She gave me a look that dared me to say something, but I just rolled my eyes and moved towards my desk.

Yoake and Sakae at least looked like normal students, their uniforms neat and pressed unlike Neiko's. The blond girl with the transformation quirk gave me a tentative smile, which I responded to with a casual wave and a friendly nod that seemed to perk up her spirits. Sakae, on the other hand, was glued to their phone as they tapped away on the glowing screen.

“Hey,” Neiko spoke up, turning her head halfway towards me.

“What?” I asked in reply, lounging in my own chair.

“Watched your shitty stream last night,” she said at length, the corner of her red eyes glaring at me. “Don't think I'm going to cut you slack for fucking up that guy. If he'd come around, I'd have turned him into a speedbump.”

I grunted. “He tries to make good on that threat? Feel free. But if he tries to start shit on my channel, it's my job to clean house. Who it is doesn't matter.”

Neiko stared at me for another moment, then nodded again. “Your house, your rules. I can respect that.”

Sensing she wanted the last word, I simply nodded.

“Ah... B-bootstrap-san?” Sakaei asked, looking up from their phone and blushing. “You've got... um... lipstick, on your mouth guard?”

“My girlfriend is in 1-B,” I shrugged. “She knows there's girls in what's left of this class so she wanted to send a clear message.”

“Ooooooh!” Sakae nodded, their eyes wide. “I understand!”

I hummed and, before they went back to their phone, I seized my chance and switched to German. “Hey, if it isn't too personal... do you prefer being referred to as a guy or a girl?”

Sakae stared at me owlishly for a moment, then blushed again and looked away. “I-um... how'd you know?”

I shrugged. “It's the way you walk, your gait. Mostly, at least. Your center of balance is a little off, too.”

Sakae bit their lip and nodded. “Ah, a boy if I'm wearing pants and a girl if I'm wearing a skirt? It... kind of depends on what I'm feeling that day?”

“Cool,” I nodded, switching back to Japanese. “Just thought I'd check. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Sakae smiled. “I appreciate the thought.”

He – pants today – shifted slightly and pulled his phone back up, clearly wanting to disconnect from the conversation.

Then the door slammed open and Aizawa slouched into the room holding a stack of papers. “In your seats already, good. It’s illogical to waste time, especially mine. Alright, you’re officially Class 1-A of the Hero Course, now. I’ve got your class syllabi right here-”

He hefted the stack of documents.

“-and you can have them and the course books at the back of the room as soon as you select a Class President to sign them all out for you,” Aizawa stated, then yawned widely. “Do that, then you’ve got the rest of the period to familiarize yourselves with the coursework. After that, you’ll have your first Practical Heroics lesson so the school can get a baseline for abilities in a combat situation. Any questions?”

Yoake tentatively reached a hand up.  “Uhh… there are only five of us? Do we really need a class president?”

Aizawa sighed, “The class president handles a number of housekeeping tasks that I can’t be bothered with, frankly. That, and they help me corral the rest of you. Plus, there’s the potential chance that one or more of the GenEd. kids might move up to Heroics during the sports festival. If that happens, your class size will increase and you’ll need one anyway, so it’s best to just get someone in the role now. Anything else?”

“How do you pick one?” Neiko asked, frowning as she didn’t bother with the classroom nicety of a raised hand.

“Up to you,” Aizawa replied shortly, then pulled out his sleeping bag from behind the lectern. “Now get to it.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone looked at each other, before I opened my mouth-

“We’re running with the purple edgelord, right?” Neiko asked, jamming a thumb my way and turning towards Yoake and Sakae.

I blinked.

“Sounds good to me,” Sakura muttered, proving he’d been at least half-awake for most of what had just transpired.

“U-uh… well, if he hadn’t helped us, we wouldn’t be here, so… I suppose?” Yoake asked, adjusting her glasses nervously.

“He’s a legitimately-licensed hero, so it only makes sense,” Sakae nodded.

“Cool, means I don’t have to do shit,” Neiko nodded, turning towards me. “Hey, you wanted to be the big swinging dick wearing your costume everywhere, congrats.”

I groaned, reaching up to rub at my eyes. The day had barely begun and I was already exhausted. “Fine, gods know it would be a disaster if someone else took over, anyway. Sakae, you’re my VP.”

The boy jerked, his eyes widening in surprise. “Eh? M-me? Why?”

“Because helping with paperwork and interfacing with other people will help you master the Japanese language better,” I replied pointedly, making the intersex teen flinch slightly. “Also, Sakura would flake on me, Neiko would decide to start shit with me every time I asked her to do something, and Yoake… well, she could honestly use the public speaking practice. So if you really don’t want to…”

The horned blond looked at Sakae pleadingly, clasping her hands together in front of her bust.

Sakae’s shoulders slumped. “Alright.”

“Cool, let’s get this shit done, then. After I hand things out, I want to have a one-on-one with each of you about your quirks and their limitations so I can work up some extra training,” I stated, rising from my desk.

Sakura groaned as Neiko gave me the evil eye for announcing I was, basically, going to give them extra homework.

Well, tough shit. They want me as their class prez? This is what they get.

~~~

Okay, so I had this like... 90% done last night, but I ended up running out of gas before I could finish it properly.

That turned out to be a good thing since it needed some revision and additions to make it flow properly. So, sorry for the slight delay, but the end product is a lot better because of it. Also, it's longer, which I know people will appreciate.

In other news, little bit of housekeeping stuff.

This last week of October is going to be busy for me. In addition to Halloween stuff, I've also got my Dad's birthday coming up in a few days. So, although I want to get a last update out before the end of the month, that might not happen. I'll still try, though. It might just end up coming out November 1st instead with the new month's favoritism polls.

Just FYI.

Thank you for your support and patience, it's very much appreciated.

Butler Boy - Chapter 10

Back to school.

Oh.

Boy.

“You know, for someone who never really went out for sports, you're not bad,” Algernon complimented as I kept pace with him. “...and break!”

But first, exercise.

Astrid, on the other hand, took a few faltering steps and slid to the curb in front of the house we were passing, gasping for breath and grasping for her water bottle.

“Drink slowly,” Algie warned us both, “you really will get a cramp if you down that entire thing. Mouthfuls at a time and them big sips. We're halfway done with the run and we'll have one more break before we get back home. You don't want to drink it all just yet, anyway.”

“Why did I – huff – agree to this?” Astrid begged between harsh breaths and greedy slurps from her water.

“Cause you forgot how much work getting into shape would be?” I asked, working my legs as my runner's high slowed down.

“Lapse in common sense, probably right,” Astrid sighed miserably.

“Second thoughts?” I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, but I should definitely keep up with it,” Astrid sighed. “My big sis is on the track and field team in high school and it seems like fun.”

“Track and field?” Algie asked, cocking his head before he snapped his fingers. “I knew you looked familiar! You're Mary's kid sister, aren't you?”

Astrid nodded with a shrug. “Yeah, you know her?”

Algie made a complicated expression. “I know about her? We've had a class or two together over the years, at least.”

I turned to Astrid. “Your sister's really popular and has a lot of guys crushing on her in high school.”

She blinked, then giggled, covering her mouth as she blushed. “Arden! You can't just say that, geeze! Yeah... sis complains all the time about how all the guys just stare at her and only the jerks ask her out.”

I turned to my brother. “That means you should go for it, bro.”

Algie jerked as he was drinking from his own water bottle, almost choking as he spit it out. “You – hack – little twerp! I'm the one who's supposed to be teasing you! Out here getting sweaty with your girlfriend and everything!”

“Ah!” Astrid squeaked, her eyes going wide as she looked down at her sweat-soaked top.

I averted my eyes by rolling them and raised a one-fingered salute at Algernon. “I go to bat for you and this is the thanks I get. Thanks, Algie.”

“Hey! You're Arden Villin, aren't you!?”

I winced in response to the volume of the cry as I looked over to where... hmm, I'm going to go with an Asian-American teenager was jogging carefully towards us, carrying a tote full of coffees. Honestly, I would have said Latin-American, but I could pick out the partial epicanthic fold-

Has my vision always been this good?

I shook off the intrusive thought as the young woman closed the distance, my brother stepping up to put himself between coffee-girl and myself and Astrid.

“You need to stop there before you come any closer,” Algie stated with a scowl, holding one hand palm-out in warning. “I don't know who you are, that means you don't get to talk to my brother even if you know his name.”

I shared an impressed look with Astrid behind the older boy's back.

Huh, go Algie.

“A-ahah, sorry!” The young woman squeaked under my brother's narrowed gaze. “I-I'm Lois! I'm interning with the Denver branch of the Daily Planet-”

“Pull the other one,” I stated, frowning myself now. “Lois Lane is a reporter in Metropolis. I've seen her do interviews.”

The girl stopped, blinking, then groaned and slapped her face. “Damn it, cuz... ugh! I'm Lois Jiyu Sullivan. Lois Lane is my cousin and my family just really likes the name for some reason. I even have a cousin in Iowa named Louis Lane, if you can believe it. Look, I've got a press pass... somewhere­-here!”

After awkwardly rummaging through the pockets of her oversized coat, she pulled out a badge in a stained holder

“Okay, I'm Algernon Robert Villin,” Algie stated, not moving an inch beyond flicking his gaze towards the card for a brief moment. “And you still don't get to talk to my brother, Ms. Sullivan.”

“Oh, come on, please?” Lois begged pathetically, almost upsetting the coffee carrier she was holding. “It'd be a huge favor! No one's been able to talk to him straight on! It's all been through your parents. People want to know what his side of the story is.”

“People,” I put a certain sarcastic emphasis on the word as I stepped up to Algie's side, “aren't entitled to know the personal details of my life. My parents have issued two formal press statements and my father is the chief of police for our town. You can easily contact either of them for more information.”

“B-but don't you want to get your side of things out?” Lois asked, a smidge desperately as she smiled.

“If I feel the need for that, I'd go to a therapist,” I replied frankly with a shake of my head. “Not a reporter. Try again.”

Lois hissed and grimaced. “I-I'd owe you one?”

Which... is more valuable than she knows, actually. I remember the name 'Sullivan' being associated with the Lanes in some continuities and the reaction to my – admittedly – slightly off the wall accusation would suggest honesty.

Presuming that she was telling the truth, a connection to Lois meant a connection to Clark by proxy, even if she didn't know it. Moreover...

I looked her over again. Her pants were stained, with the look of someone who didn't understand how to actually get the discoloration out. One of the pant legs was torn in a way that was neither stylish nor appealing. Her jacket might be nominally clean, but her shirt had a faded coloration that lent itself to being worn too many times, the repeated washing having drained it of its former vibrancy.

She was... kind of a disaster.

“Ma'am,” Algie began, “my brother isn't-”

“Friday,” I interjected, much to my brother's surprise, Astrid blinking at me as well. “You and a recorder, I get to check questions beforehand, and my parents have final say on approving the article you write.”

“Deal!” Lois grinned widely, looking as if she'd just won the lottery as she threw up her hands-

-and the coffee came down in a brief caffeinated shower.

Right on her head.

Lois closed her eyes, palmed her face, and sighed. “Nuts.”

“Friday, our house. Say... five in the afternoon,” I repeated slowly, some of her lost vigor coming back as I stepped away from the growing pool of brown sludge. “You should know where that is. We're going to go finish our run and get ready for school now, have a... nice day?”

A few moments later, the three of us had left Lois standing there, trying in vain to clean herself off with the pocket full of napkins she had stored away as she walked back the way she'd come. Most likely to reorder the coffee she'd just spilled.

“Why'd you agree to that?” Astrid asked, frowning at me.

An interesting part of my skill in the art of love and attraction? I could pick out jealousy.

“I don't kick puppies,” I told my girlfriend bluntly.

Astrid blinked, then sputtered with laughter as the response dropped.

“Just watch out,” Algie advised me. “And you're going to be the one telling Mom and Dad about this.”

I sighed. Even if I actually did have a good argument for letting me go through with the interview, that would be all sorts of fun. Still, if I could jump start someone's career by giving them an inside scoop about a potential plea deal being reached... well, that was better than just handing it over to some seasoned big-wig, in my opinion.

…

“See, told you he'd still have both arms. And the legs, too, idiot.”

“Yo, genius! Glad you're alright, man!”

“I thought he'd be bigger.”

“Thanks for the two week vacation, Villin!”

“Ugh, he's thirteen! Did you forget about that?”

“Lookin' good, Arden! See you in class, dude!”

“Fucking crazy, man. I heard he dug his way out of there with a plastic spoon.”

“Don't leave me hangin' here, hombre!”

“I'm just surprised they let him come back after all that! My uncle said they're suing the school.”

“Good looking out, Arden. Heard about your MacGyver shit, fuckin' sweet!”

“How's that work? I mean, can he go here while they're suing it?”

“Keep the faith, brother.”

“Pfft – forget him, I'd rather just have the next two weeks and go straight to spring break!”

“Hit me up sometime, shorty, we'll hang.”

“If they did that, we'd have to spend some of summer vacation in school, dingus! Pulling all that asbestos shit out of the basement burned through the days they had built into the calendar for natural disasters and stuff.”

“Yo! I'm throwing a party at my place for Spring Break! Wanna see you there!”

“Whoa... that was Harrison Keller, wasn't it? What the fuck is he doing talking to the bunker kid?”

“Call me sometime Arty!”

“Don't you watch the news? He's rich. Like, lottery jackpot rich. Genius stock investment money.”

...and on and on it went.

For every rumor, there was a direct address to me, personally. Most of them were a mix of relieved, happy, and well-wishing. For the most part, the student body here was legitimately friendly and pretty low-stress about things. Outside of a few problems, like the Baxters insisted they brand themselves as, I barely ever had any real grief from anyone.

However, with the recent scare, well...

Algie was... reluctant to part with me to go to his classes, but he eventually had to. He'd be a senior next year and the heat would really be on for him. Two weeks out of school was pushing it for knowledge retention. Still, it was interesting to see him moving about the various cliques and groups with one ear cocked.

Maybe I'd think about asking him to teach me some of that stealth skill he picked up?

It was a skill, after all. Those could be taught and learned.

“I want you to punch me.”

I rolled my eyes, “I'm not going to punch you.”

“Right in the face.”

I groaned, shifting the last textbook from my backpack to my locker, a practice that I still had mixed feelings over. On the one hand, I liked textbooks. I enjoyed the fact that a class had a structured series of units available for reference in a single physical book. Especially when I knew that the cheaper and stupider alternative on the way was the electronic crap that would be rolling out in a decade or so.

On the other hand, ouch my fucking spine.

“I am not punching you, it was not your fault, and you're already ugly enough that I don't want to further endanger your dating options,” I stated firmly, slamming my locker shut and looking at my nominal best friend.

Well, there was Mike, but when you effectively go to a different school, there's a limit to how much you can hang out or have in common.

“Fine, I'll get your brother to do it instead.”

“For fuck's sake, Sebas, just let it lie,” I grumbled.

“For the honor of my people, I cannot. I owe you a life debt for failing my bond of friendship,” he stated stoically.

I sighed again, leaning against the expanse of lockers and pressing my head against the cool metal. “Sebastian Rainwater, for the love of the Presence, I will actually punch you in the face if you don't stop.”

“So either way, I win,” he grinned, a flash of white teeth against skin the color of red-brown clay with long dark hair that was swept back into a loose ponytail. His clothes were dark with a Nirvana logo on them, topped by a long brown leather coat that trailed down to his ankles with a red dot inked on his forehead and heavy boots that matched my own.

“It wasn't your fucking fault, okay.” I stared him down, my blue eyes meeting his hazel.

He looked away first. “I shoulda' been there, man. It's fucked up. I was looking for you all afternoon, dammit. I thought you'd just decided to hide out with a book or something like you do sometimes.”

“I do default to my introvert settings, that's true,” I shrugged. “Still not your fault, though. It was those two idiots and that's it.”

“Yeah, but I couldn't even fucking call to check up on you, some friend I am,” he bitched.

“That's more to do with our moms than you or me,” I replied. “You know she'd freak if you called the house – and then she'd call your mom and it'd be this whole thing.”

“Yep,” he sighed, nodding. “Still... sorry. I owe you one, okay?”

I stared at him for another moment, then nodded with no small bit of exasperation. “Alright, fine. If it'll make you feel better. You don't get to whine when I call you up at three AM to bury a body or something.”

“Alright, I'll take that,” he nodded, then clapped me on the shoulder. “Still, good to see you back. Glad you're not dead or in a wheelchair or something, that would have sucked. You're still the only person around here I can stand to talk to.”

Algie, my self-appointed guard dog, took that opportunity to pass by, flicking a glance at Sebas and immediately looking away.

Which was pretty on point for him, honestly.

Algernon pointedly did not know that Sebastian and I were friends. He'd never confirmed it, at least, which meant he could honestly tell Mom exactly that. Which, as I'd reminded Sebas, was a good thing given our respective mothers' antipathy towards each other.

I didn't particularly know the entire backstory about that fight, truth be told. I was pretty sure it started out as a matter of religion and just kind of spiraled into two people unable to swallow their pride and reconcile. Sebas and I had bumped into each other at a book fair in middle school and been the only two mega-nerds in the school going after the crunchier sci-fi and stranger fantasy books.

Yes, we were A Wrinkle in Time kids.

Sebas an I were also tightly bound by the mutual belief that Lord of the Rings was... well, just kind of overrated. No shade on Tolkien himself, the man was a literary genius, I just didn't like his writing style.

“So... had fun being off-school, at least?” Sebas asked with a shrug, looking a bit lost for conversation topics now that we'd exhausted the first.

“Eh, a bit,” I replied, scratching at my neck. “Caught up on TV watching, kind of sick of it now. Mom finally let me loose over the weekend. Went on a little hike Sunday after being trapped inside for so long. Oh, I asked Astrid out, from my scout troop. Date was Saturday, went pretty well.”

“Dude!” Sebas grinned again, holding out a flat hand, which I clapped with a grin. “Nice. And here I was giving you shit over having a hard time finding a girl around here.”

I snorted, acknowledging the 'shit' he'd given me as the friendly kind. It was a bit of a running joke that-

“Arden! It's so good to see you back!” One of the blond girls in the junior group squealed, bouncing up with her clique. Instantly, I was assaulted with the stereotypical 'girl hugs' as they took turns giving me kisses on the cheek and pressing against me for brief moments.

“Thanks,” I replied belatedly, slightly stunned. “Good to be back!”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Cathy? Candace? Charlotte? I feel like it was one of those. “Whenever you sue the school, make sure they don't take the budget for the new cheerleader outfits, okay? Thanks, bye!”

There was a moment of silence as a few guys – and girls – threw glances that ranged between amused and envious at me.

“Well, that happened,” Sebastian noted dryly, sounding a bit stunned himself. “Lucky little shit.”

“You know they basically see me as a mascot character for the school and not an actual human being, right?” I asked, shaking the feeling off and jerking my head towards the bathroom.

Most of them, anyway. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that a few were giving me eyes, but...

Since we shared a campus with the middle school students, there was a non-zero chance Astrid would see me today. I was nowhere near stupid enough to have another girl's lipstick on me should that happen.

“Fair, fair... still a lucky little shit,” Sebas stated. “So, you actually going to sue the school?”

“Nope,” I replied, grabbing a fistful of shitty paper towels and getting them mildly damp.

“Really?” Sebas seemed surprised. “Didn't take you for someone willing to turn down free money.”

“It's not free,” I shook my head. “It'll come out of the free lunch program or the science budget or the football team's fuel allotment. Nothing's ever free.”

I knew that better than most, these days.

“Right... this is one of those weird, super-mature things morality things you've got going on,” Sebas hummed. “So what's up?”

“Well, I am getting some money from the school system,” I admitted, “but considering I was almost killed on school grounds, it's nowhere near what I could be taking them for, and they know it. Still, five figures isn't anything to sneeze at. It's about finding the sweet spot between making them notice that they fucked up and dealing real crippling financial damage.”

Faceless institutions only really cared about numbers and metrics at the end of the day. The money was less about compensation and more about making sure they noticed and took steps to prevent something like this from happening again. To that end, giving them the financial equivalent of a black eye was – arguably – the best solution.

Between that and the promise that they'd convert the basement into a safe and usable space for the student body, I felt I was being more than generous.

“And, knowing you, you're not going to want to really fuck with the Baxters, either,” Sebas stated, clicking his tongue.

“Same deal, basically,” I nodded. “Enough to make them notice, make it hurt, and teach them not to do it again. That's what's on the table right now, at least. But if they try to fight it, it'll go to court and they'll face financial ruin, which is what I want to avoid.”

Both Baxter kids had siblings, after all, and they'd never wronged me.

Neither family was rich, exactly, but they were firmly upper-middle class in most respects. Somewhere between ten and twenty thousand for John and Kevin would tighten their belts for a year or two, but not burden their entire family line with inescapable debt.

Again, the point was to meaningfully demonstrate to them that they'd fucked up, make them remember that each time they read off a grocery bill, and avoid the other children in their family turning out the same way.

“Okay, so moderate payday. Cool, cool...” Sebas nodded slowly as he watched me closely while we walked out of the bathroom and towards our shared homeroom. “Now cut the BS, I know that look.”

I chuckled and grinned at him. “The contractor who renovated the bunker a decade ago? Yeah, they're still in business and pretty big. They get taken to the cleaners.”

I wasn't willing to put the screws to the public school system or a pair of families who would already be burdened with court costs for their kids, but a private company that had screwed up and nearly killed me by sealing up the vents they'd been supposed to make safe?

The gloves came off.

Besides, they had insurance to absorb some of the hit.

Sebas held out a hand again, and I slapped my own palm across it smoothly. “Once again, the evil genius amazes me. Smooth moves, super villain.”

I scoffed. “Your flattery skills need work, minion.”

Sebas laughed, a sound just short of cackling.

“Oh, and pick out what kind of car you want for graduation,” I told him with a grin that stopped him in his tracks. “Can't have one of my henchmen driving around in a pile of scrap.”

“Arden...” Sebas trailed off warningly.

Which was the reason I was friends with him.

“Whatever it costs, I'll donate double to the rez,” I informed him bluntly.

He stared at me for another minute, then clicked his tongue. “Fucker. You're lucky I like you. It's not enough your stock tips already paid off my college, now you're talking about buying me a goddamn car.”

“Money's only a problem when you don't have enough of it,” I shook my head. “I'd rather buy something nice for someone I like than sit in a bank's pocket. Fuck the corpos, amiright?”

Sebas rolled his eyes, but his easy grin was back in place. “Yeah, yeah, fuck the corpos.”

Because, hey, my Mom thought Dungeons & Dragons was full of satanic black magic, but Cyberpunk? That futuristic science shit was preem...

Serious topics faded as Sebas and I started squabbling over schoolwork.

As much as school was a pain in the ass and a time-waster now, I had to admit that the return to routine felt comforting.

~~~

More Arden Villin!

And he's back at school!

...which is pretty chill and nothing's exploding? Oh well, give it time.

Also, we get introduced to the last significant character in Arden's life up to this point, Sebastian. He's a bro, so get used to him hanging around.

Other than that? Pretty chill chapter. Next one will feature The Talk. No, not that one. The one with the bullies' Dads. Look forward to it.

Next update? Mind Games. Hopefully some time over the weekend.

Thanks again for all your support! I couldn't do this without your help!

Entrepreneurial Spirit - Chapter 7

“Uuuuuuuuuuugh...”

I hummed and leaned back against the bar, flipping through the book I had open and reviewing its contents. It'd been a few decades since I learned basic magecraft, after all, and I'd need a refresher if I was going to not be a Kiritsugu.

“Worrrrraaaaaahh....”

This particular book had been written by the Atlas guild in Egypt. While they were usually more concerned with Alchemy, that was considered a higher-level discipline and, as a result, something that needed firm grounding in the basics.

“Ooorrrooouuuuu....”

I sighed and looked up from my text, staring at the young human sprawled over my counter. Her skin was brown, her hair a few shades darker, almost black. She was wearing a mishmash of odd clothing, most of it with garish colors that violently collided, topped off with a knit cap with a rainbow around the rim.

“Depressed teenager noises.”

“Are you planning to actually ask for help or do you just want to lay there on my bar moaning in frustration?” I asked, closing my book with a harsh snap. “Because I can loan you the use of one of my screaming rooms for some pocket change.”

“You have screaming rooms?” Luz asked, her head popping up in the first fit of real animation I'd seen since she showed up. “Like, rooms for screaming or rooms that scream at you?”

“The former,” I sighed, shaking my head. “You've been spending too much time on the Boiling Isles if that's the first thing that comes to mind, Luz.”

“Ah... yeah, Mom said something similar,” Luz chuckled weakly, rubbing at her head like an anime protagonist.

The sound died quickly.

I'd had enough experience to know when someone wanted to unload at this point, so with great trepidation and concern for my sanity, I reached under the bar and pulled out a pair of glasses. “How much do you weigh, kid?”

Luz blinked. “Uhh... sixty kilograms, why?”

I furrowed my brows as I stared at her. “Aren't you an American?”

“Metric makes more sense,” she shook her head. “Why'd you want to know my weight?”

Luz, you're a weirdo even among weirdos.

“So that I can estimate how much alcohol you can have,” I replied with a sigh, bringing out a chilled bottle of wine.

The girl's eyes widened as I pulled the cork and began pouring. “U-um, a-are you sure? Mom and Eda keep me away from that stuff, and... I don't really like the taste of it, either. When I snuck some, back when I was little.”

I chuckled. “No, you probably wouldn't, but I think you'll like this. It's plum wine. A kind that's less than one percent by volume. As long as you don't have more than three glasses of this size, it shouldn't inhibit your decision-making capacity overmuch.”

“Plums?” Luz nibbled at her bottom lip as she frowned. “I do like plums... so if I only have a little bit I won't act like Eda? Or Mom during the holidays?”

“It'll help if you eat something, too,” I nodded, snapping my fingers and making a spread of fried cheese sticks, cold meats, and slices of bread all centered around a warm pot of marinara.

“Ooooh-wait,” Luz stopped abruptly and narrowed her gaze at me. “How much is this going to cost? I'm on a witch-apprentice budget.”

“Complimentary, I promise. No charge,” I waved her off despite her disbelief. “Food is cheap for me, so I can afford to be pretty loose with it. Don't get too used to the service, though, it's offered at my discretion. People like your mentor would just take advantage of it endlessly.”

Luz giggled and nodded. “Eda always says to never turn down free food – as long as you've tested for poison, at least. Which reminds me...”

She took out some kind of stone charm with a carved symbol on it and touched it to the drink and food, then abruptly stopped, her eyes going wide.

“You were supposed to do that while I was looking away, weren't you?” I asked, smirking, as I leaned over the counter at her.

“...or I could really offend someone, yeah,” Luz muttered, ducking her head. “Sorry. I didn't really think it was poison, Edajustmademepromisethat-”

I reached out and patted the kid's head. “You're alright, Luz. I've dealt with a lot ruder than you in my time, believe me. Just keep it in mind next time you want to pull a stunt like that, okay?”

“Thanks,” Luz murmured, nodding her head as I gave her hat-clad head one last rub.

“Now eat,” I ordered her, conjuring a stool to sit down opposite her.

I ignored the presence behind the holographic landscape on the wall. Luz's mother had paid the fee, after all, and I'd give her a fair shake. Even if what she found out wasn't something she truly wanted to know. Then again, I'd dealt with a lot of dissatisfied customers over the years. Camila, having decided to adopt a basilisk from another dimension as a second child, would probably react far better than most.

Also, I'd forged the documents to make her second child a legal person in the human world and done so at a discount rate for a few small samples of Vee's body. Saliva, tears, claw clippings, shed scales... even a tiny bit of blood Camila herself had drawn with her veterinary training. Nothing invasive.

Basically for free, in other words.

“Oh! This is really good!” Luz's eyes widened as she sipped at the plum wine. “I didn't think this stuff could taste good!”

“Just don't guzzle it on an empty stomach,” I warned her, tapping at the counter pointedly.

The girl took the hint and created a sandwich before grabbing a cheese stick and giving it a dunk... and promptly sticking it inside the two pieces of bread. I stared at her for a moment, then shrugged and did the same. It was basically a meat and cheese sandwich with some marinara on it, after all. It wasn't as if the girl had tried to put pickles on pizza or something.

“Not bad,” I commented idly.

“I know, right?” Luz almost squealed. “Everyone always looked at me like I was crazy for doing stuff like that! But, like, it's all food – right? It's all going to the same place!”

“Fair point,” I nodded.

“But even if you gave me the ol' hairy eyeball about it, you tried it anyway!” Luz continued as if I hadn't spoken. “And it's like that with everything in the human world! My clothes, the animals I pick up, the projects I want to do-”

“The snakes were a little over the top,” I interjected, lifting my glass and gesturing pointedly.

“...” Luz opened her mouth, then sighed and shook her head, slumping a bit. “Okay, that's... yeah, that was kind of extreme. Mom told you?”

I gave her a nod.

The Dominican-American girl grimaced. “I was... I dunno. I just... I guess I was pushing things because... what was the point of trying to act normal anymore? Everyone had basically already decided I was some kind of freak, you know?”

She sniffled and, unasked, I passed her a box of tissues I'd conjured from thin air.

A few moments and one blown nose later, she continued.

“I know mi madre wants me to fit in. I know,” she sighed and took a small drink, pacing herself. “And I actually wanted to go to that camp – no, that's not it. I... I wanted to make her happy by going to the camp. By... letting it work or whatever.”

She drooped further over the bar, dismayed at the realization her train of consciousness rambling had led her to. “I wanted to be normal for her, even if it hurt me.”

I bet Camila doesn't think I was joking about that box of tissues back there now.

We both let that hand in the air for a while and I did what bartenders do when they know a customer needs to vent.

I stayed silent.

“I know I'm a lot of trouble for her,” Luz continued quietly, grabbing another handful of tissues and snorting wetly. “It's not like I want to be, though. I didn't... didn't choose to like spiders and snakes and gorey horror movies and fantasy books that no one else in my town has ever read. It just... it sucks so much, you know?”

“I can imagine,” I nodded. “No one in your corner, though? How about the goths, emos, steampunk kids, or... don't guess you guys had a trenchcoat mafia?”

Luz snorted so hard I worried some of the warm gooey cheese might shoot up through the back of her throat and through her nose. “Trench coat mafia? No way!”

“God's honest truth,” I promised her, my tails wiggling behind me in amusement. “My high school was an oddball place with an oddball administration. Mostly people who didn't give a shit as long as the work got done and no one had to call the cops.”

“Right... I forgot you said you were human before you ran the store...” Luz muttered, holding a partially-eaten cheese stick in her mouth like a cigar as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. She shook her head. “That sounds cool, though. A lot cooler than the Gravesfield scene.”

“Oh?” I asked, legitimately curious.

I didn't get out very often, after all.

“Yeah, they're...” Luz grimaced and looked away. “It sounds lame when I say it, but they're basically posers. Gravesfield is kind of a tourist trap, see, and everyone just buys into all the witch stuff being fake. The goths in town are... they're just there to sell how the town is spooky and dangerous, but... in a fake way that sells stuff. Am I making sense?”

“They're ornamental,” I nodded, following her.

“Right, that!” Luz nodded, slapping the bar. “Anyway, they're cool to hang out with, I guess? But they're not really weird so much as... weird as a fashion statement? That, more or less. So the minute you start talking about cryptids or conspiracy theories or whatever, they start side-eyeing you. And it's basically the same with everyone else.”

“You have anyone online you can talk to?” I asked, probing in another direction.

Luz gave an ambivalent shrug. “I mean... there's always the Azura fanclubs and stuff, they're cool. But only for talking about the books. The second you start delving into personal biz, everyone has to go feed their cat or do laundry or something.”

“Sounds depressing,” I commented idly. “I can see why you'd end up following a small owl that stole your book into another dimension and then decide to stay there with a self-declared criminal on the run from the law that you'd known for all of... what, six hours?”

Luz rubbed at her reddening face. “It was more like seven, but... yeah.”

There was another long pause as we both ate our improvised sandwiches.

“I didn't plan on staying as long as I did,” Luz eventually said. “I just... the Boiling Isles... I know it should be scary. Terrifying, even. I hadn't been through the portal for the first time even five seconds before a pixie showed up and told me it was going to eat my face.”

“You know, it's usually the fairies that do that,” I replied with a grin. “The face-eating, I mean. In my experience, pixies are usually better-behaved.”

“Well, this one wasn't,” Luz giggled, grinning back... before returning to a somber mood. “But... most people would get freaked out – and I did freak a little – when it happened, but then it was over and I was fine.”

Luz took a substantially larger drink of the barely-alcoholic beverage.

“Then we did the prison break, and I almost died,” Luz stated matter-of-factly, her tongue sliding over her teeth in a thoughtful move. “A couple of times, actually. Then there was this demon named Adegast and he almost killed me to get to Eda. Then I snuck into Hexside for the first time and they almost dissected me for impersonating an abomination. After that Eda had an episode when she didn't take her potion and after that I had this witch-duel thing at the coven recruitment convention.”

The teenager had been flicking up fingers on her hand as she went, coming to five before she'd felt her point was made well enough to continue.

“And I was like...” Luz held out her hands, palms up, looking expectant and confused. “When do the nightmares start? The PTSD? The shakes or fits of hyper-awareness that was in the latter Azura books-”

I blinked, making a mental note to acquire a set of those books when an opportunity presented itself. If nothing else, I could use a new recreational reading project.

“-but that never happened,” Luz continued, looking a little lost. “And it wasn't like I really wanted them to show up, so I didn't really care all that much at first, but after a while... I started thinking about what that meant.”

“What do you think it meant?” I asked, frowning curiously. It was rare to see a person as introspective as Luz was presenting herself, especially given her age. I was genuinely interested in where this conversation was going.

“That I was more at home in the Boiling Isles than I'd ever been in the human world,” Luz admitted softly, tiredly, as if releasing a too-large weight she'd been carrying for too-long.

I hummed a bit, sipping at my wine. “Well, I can't precisely refute that kind of subjective personal judgment. Can you explain why you feel that way? What – in particular – do you like about the Isles more than the human realm?”

Luz swallowed, this time without food in her mouth as she reflexively cast a glance around the room. “C-can... you're not going to tell anyone about this, right? I'd just... I've put my mom under enough stress and with Belos and the Day of Unity coming to a head... I don't want to trauma dump on anyone right now.”

“I won't tell anyone about our conversation,” I promised, a tinge of guilt flowing through me, but I'd done a lot worse than lie to a child on their parent's behalf. Besides, I'd had Camila sign a binding contract forbidding her from ever telling Luz I'd let her listen in. “I promise.”

I had to protect my good name somehow, after all.

“Okay, so... about two weeks ago – maybe it was three? - I woke up and got out of bed and thought, 'Man, I wonder what's going to try and kill me today?' And I laughed out loud about it,” Luz admitted, staring off into the middle distance. “Because... I thought it was funny. Kind of like that weak step in the stairs I kept tripping on at home? Like... it's aggravating and a little frustrating, but... it's part of what you do every day.”

“You'd gotten used to it, you mean?” I asked, my eyes narrowed consideringly as I tapped the tips of my claw-like nails on the counter between us.

“Kind of, but not really?” Luz grimaced, scrabbling at her hair so furiously that her knit cap came off. Setting it down on the bar near us, she swept a hand through her hair irritably. “I was looking forward to it, like almost dying was what made the day worth getting out of bed for. A-and... when I realized that, I kind of started to think about all of the times my friends and I got into trouble or nearly died and no one thought it was weird.”

Luz paused, half-heartedly picking up a mozz stick and biting off the end. “Dumb? Yeah, a couple of things I did were kind of stupid, looking back on them. But... it was fun, constantly fighting against demons and monsters and witches... it was like everything made sense for the first time in my fucking life!”

Luz slammed her fists down on the counter, suddenly breathing hard – almost gasping – in the wake of the fit of anger.

“That was the first time I realized – that it really sank in – that I understood what being normal felt like,” Luz admitted, her gaze haunted and tears flowing down her cheeks.

I sighed softly and stepped through the bar, the very matter of the store rearranging itself for my passage, and pulled her into a hug.

Instantly, Luz collapsed into a full-on breakdown, clinging to me like a piece of driftwood in a storm.

…

It took a while for Luz to calm down after that, but eventually I was able to disentangle myself from our embrace and pop out a bit of ice cream.

Granted, it didn't seem to help all that much as the teenager picked and nibbled at it slowly.

“I feel like I can guess the rest of what's bothering you easily enough,” I sighed, picking at my own bowl. I'd never really been that big of an 'ice cream guy.' A little every now and then was fine, but... eh, just not my deal, really. That said, I could absolutely demolish an ice cream sandwich. “You're afraid of telling your mom that you don't want to go back to the human world, aren't you?”

“I don't even know how to bring it up to her!” Luz replied desperately, the source of her anxiety coming out easily now. “It's not like I don't love her! I do! I really do! She's the only one that's ever even tried to understand me! Ever since Dad...”

Luz shook her head.

“Ever since then, life's been... pretty miserable, honestly. And I think the worst part was that I didn't actually know how bad it was?” Luz asked, swirling her drink contemplatively. “Because you don't know what you don't know, right? If you stopped having friends back when you were eight or whatever, and I'm almost fifteen now... then that's less than half my life that I've actually had someone I can talk to about stuff. Especially when you consider memories start forming at, like... five or six or whatever.”

“But when you made friends on the Boiling Isles,” I interjected gently, pushing her back on track.

“Yeah,” Luz nodded with a sigh. “But like I said, I don't even know how to begin explaining to Mom that I'd rather jump off a cliff without magic than move back to Earth full-time, and that's before Amity-”

I rolled my eyes as the girl snapped her mouth shut. “Kid, when you get to be my age? You learn that there's no point in giving a shit about who likes who and what parts they have below the belt to do it with. I have much more important things to do than get in a snit about you having a girlfriend who's a member of a different species.”

Luz snorted and giggled, blushing at my frank assessment of the matter. “Thanks, Nova. I... I really needed to vent. Izuku's lucky to have a mentor like you, not that I'd trade Eda for the world, but you're pretty awesome.”

“Thanks, kid. You're not half-bad yourself,” I nodded. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Luz shrugged awkwardly. “Repress it all until I actually do have some kind of psychotic break? I mean, I've never had one, so it could be fun.”

I sighed deeply and shook my head. “Stars and stones, kid. Okay, time to teach you some life skills. I know Eda's big on letting you figure things out yourself, but you came to me for – if not advice – then at least a sympathetic ear. So my price is going to be listening to me lay out some options for you, okay?”

“Not like I have any better ideas,” Luz muttered, but nodded.

“Alright, so let's start out with your ideal future,” I stated, tapping the bar for emphasis as Luz dipped into her ice cream again. “We're putting aside Belos and the fate of the world junk for a minute and focusing on your future specifically. If you could have everything your way, what would your future look like?”

Luz frowned and half-turned to stare off into the middle distance. “I... that might actually be the first time anyone's ever asked me that? I mean, outside of what kind of job I want when I grow up, but no one really believes me when I say 'witch' or 'sorceress' or something.”

I snapped my fingers in front of her, “Focus, kid. Focus.”

“Right,” she shook herself, blinking rapidly. “Uhh... ideally? Stable portal between Earth and the Boiling Isles so that I can live at home with Mom for another year or two, maybe get a GED or something so I don't have to go back to school. And I commute from Gravesfield to Hexside or Eda's place to study magic. And Mom's somehow okay with all of this and doesn't freak out when I try to explain how awesome it is that something tried to eat me and I got away by the skin of my teeth? Also, I'm still with Amity, probably should have said that first. Yeah, that's about it.”

“Okay,” I stated, nodding, “that's your goal, then. First hurdle, there, is asking whether or not anything specific is actually impossible. Completely and totally impossible. Not unlikely, but flat out could never happen by the standards of the world you live in.”

Luz had opened her mouth to speak, then slowly closed it as I clarified by point, rubbing at her chin thoughtfully. “Well... I guess the portal used to be a thing? So if we could build another one-”

Her hand went to the bag sitting on the stool beside her, subconsciously.

I could sense the power in it. Or, well, the value specifically. It was... significant.

Knowing what I did, I had a few guesses as to what it could be.

“-then the biggest problem would be getting Mom to agree and not freak out,” Luz pursed her lips. “Well, besides Belos, I guess.”

“We'll circle back to him in a minute,” I promised, tapping the counter again. “So, you have your ideal future-”

“Umm,” Luz cut me off, looking anxious again as she twisted in place.

“Something you forgot?” I asked, looking at her curiously.

“Can I... like do you think... would my mom freak out less if I had a way to protect myself?” Luz asked, frowning and nibbling at her lip. “Like, more than just my magic? Or, just better magic, maybe?”

“Are you asking about buying something?” I cocked my head, the conversation having taken a turn I didn't expect.

Luz paused again, staring at me...

...at my tails.

“My eyes are up here, kid,” I stated, making the girl's eyes widen as she jerked back and blushed heavily.

“Lo siento mucho!” Luz squeaked, dropping her head into her hands. “I didn't mean it like that!”

“How did you mean it, then? I'm authentically curious,” I asked, leaning over the bar fully and spooning myself some of the last of the ice cream before making the bowl vanish.

“Would it... offend you, if I asked how you went from human to-” She made a vague motion.

I hummed thoughtfully, my ears pivoting as I had an inkling of where she was going with this. “So it's not just Earth that you hate, then.”

Luz flinched, looking fully away and rubbing at her eyes. “I-it's not hate, it's just... I don't know. These days, there are times where I look in the mirror and... for some reason I expect to see fangs and claws and... I don't know.”

She went quiet again. “I-is there really something wrong with me?”

“You're not cursed, I can tell you that much,” I hummed, cocking my head as my magical sense confirmed that much. No, I suspected the problem lay elsewhere. “You recognize the term 'transhumanist'?”

Luz blinked, frowning. “I... think I've heard it before? When I tried reading some science fiction? But it just wasn't my thing.”

“The hardcore stuff might not be, but I have some bio-punk and gene-punk that I might recommend... thought that's neither here nor there.” I took a final pull from my drink and emptied it. “Transhumanism is the ideology that proposes augmenting humanity with enhancements to cover up or replace perceived weaknesses in the human condition. It's not as widely-spread, but its entirely possible to replace the idea of technology in this equation with magic.”

“That... yeah, that kind of sounds like what I feel like,” Luz nodded slowly. “Like, why can't I have snake fangs or something? That'd be so cool and they'd be useful and amazing!”

“So does that enter into your dreams for the future?” I asked.

Luz twitched, then shook her head. “N-no, it was a silly question. Honestly, if Mom can't handle the life-threatening danger, living in another dimension, and me dating outside my own species, I don't think she'd be too receptive to the idea of that kind of change.”

I pointedly avoided looking at where Camila was concealed behind the holographic painting, but with the knowledge that she'd been the equivalent of a huge trekkie when she was younger, she might surprise her daughter. “How about we table that point? You talk to your mom about how you want your life to go in the future and we'll take things from there.”

Luz made a disappointed noise in the back of her throat and looked down at her hands on the counter, curling them into imaginary claws, before nodding. “It was stupid anyway-”

“It's not stupid,” I interrupted her. “If it matters to you, it's not stupid. It's also not impossible. Like you've probably figured out, I did something of the sort as my signing bonus when I inherited the store.”

“You did?” Luz gasped, her eyes glittering, “I knew it! Can I ask-”

“Ahp-bup-bup!” I called out, holding up a hand. “Later. Now that I've at least outlined a good place to start resolving your various personal crises, you came here to talk business originally, I thought?”

“Oh yeah!” The Latin-American girl snapped her fingers, then went rummaging through her bag. “Mami left this with me. She said she found it with that magic-detector you loaned her in Gravesfield. Eda and Lilith looked it over and agreed that it's real Titan's Blood, but they aren't sure if they can handle it properly with their magic being all wonky with the curse and everything.”

She held up the large vial containing shadowy blue liquid glittering with tiny stars, and I felt my breath catch at the sight of it.

It was easily one of the most valuable things I'd had walk into the store in the past decade.

I'd known that Titan's Blood could be powerful, but... damn.

“I'm not putting it up for trade, not yet,” Luz clarified, and my ears twitched with disappointment. “I just wanted to get your say on how much it was worth and what you could do to help if I traded it to you.”

“I'd walk out of here and kill Belos myself, for starters,” I stated bluntly, clearing taking Luz aback as the declaration sank in.

“I thought you couldn't leave?” She asked, setting the vial on the counter, the owl-shaped stopper obviously enchanted with some kind of stasis effect.

“Normally, no,” I hedged, “but if the client is willing to pay enough? Albeit, that's a price that's usually out of most people's desire to pay, let alone ability.”

“It's worth that much?” Luz muttered, staring at the vial. “What about another key? Could you make one?”

I nodded slowly, reaching out and touching the flask with a single finger as I thought about what I knew of the Boiling Isles, both from Luz and Eda as well as my other sources. There was an opportunity here. A big one. And I could do it entirely without regard for what it would cost the Isles. If things went according to how they originally did, they'd have lost the Titan's magic with Belos' final attempt to wipe them out.

But...

I looked at Luz searchingly.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” She asked, chuckling awkwardly.

“I think I have a way for everyone involved to get what they want,” I told her seriously, “except – obviously – for Emperor Belos. You said you've seen his throne room, right?”

“Once or twice, yeah,” Luz nodded, cocking her head and squinting at the memory. “Why?”

“The Titan's heart... is it still beating?” I pressed, feeling the vaguest warning from the rules I was bound by, but I paid them no concern. I wasn't going to try and dispense forbidden knowledge from the future.

“Uhh... yeah, I think so?” Luz asked herself, frowning. “Huh, that's kind of weird, isn't it? Like, the Isles are his body and they're rotting away. How is his heart still beating?”

“Creatures of the kind of power we're talking about take a very long time to truly die, and that's if they even can,” I informed her absently, valiantly resisting the urge to quote Lovecraft at her. “That's good news, though. It means his bile sacks are intact.”

Which was why his spirit was still able to linger.

“So you want me to... steal his heart?” Luz asked, frowning. “I think that might be, like... sacrilegious or something. The witches worship him like a god. I'd probably get in huge trouble for something like that... and not the Eda-Approved kind, either.”

“I thought one of the subjects from your school was oracle magic,” I grinned, my teeth showing in a smile that was far more predatory than my normal expression as I held up the large vial of ancient blood.

“Oooooh,” Luz whispered, her own smile widening to match mine.

Of course, after Luz left to go get her divination things for what we needed to do, I had to deal with Camila tearing herself apart with what she’d learned about her daughter. Thankfully, it seemed like a bottle of tequila did the trick there. Granted, that wasn’t the best solution, but Camila was an adult and could afford a therapist if she wanted one. Unlike Luz, she was also more than old enough to make the conscious decision to get blind stinking drunk as well.

I’d still have to deal with her after she got through the hangover, but hopefully she’d at least be a bit less hysterical about everything.

I had warned her, after all.

~~~

Okay, this chapter is slightly late. I had a friend ask me for some help moving heavy furniture to his new house and that basically wiped me out for a good day and a half. I'm really hoping that we're going to see the end of 90F days, because that heat was still pretty killer.

But I'm glad we got it done that day, because it rained the following one.

Anyway, here's the latest chapter of Entrepreneurial Spirit, where we veer back to dealing with Luz Noceda and her problems.

The Owl House plot has maybe one more significant chapter to it, and people should see why at the end of the story.

Next up is probably either Mind Games or Butler Boy, one of the two. We'll see.

Hope everyone's having a great week!

Mind Games - Chapter 42

“Dude... you sure you're okay?”

I hummed, staring listlessly into the camera and sipping an energy drink colored like toxic sludge through a crazy straw. Why did we have crazy straws? I didn't know. But it was a crazy straw kind of day.

“Random topic, chat.” My statement drew a blink from Buster. “Literally anything but how my day went, please.”

“Okay, uh... that's not good. Let's see... got a subscriber here who wants to know if we think aliens are real?”

I reached up and scratched at my mask. Even drawing upon the experience from my past lives, wearing the face guard for half the day and now putting the cloth one on for another hour or two was wearing on me. “Yep.”

“Well, I was always, wait-what?” Kirishima, in his Buster garb, asked. What one could see of his expression was obvious surprise. “Uhh... okay. Second question, how about ghosts?”

“Yep,” I nodded in a monotone.

There was a moment of silence as the chat lingered... before exploding in a frenzy of madness.

“I feel like I'm getting a peek into the Deep Lore surrounding Bootstrap and I'm not sure if I'm ready,” Buster stated, rubbing at his chin and looking off to the side. “Aliens, ghosts... how about alternate universes? Cryptids?”

“Yep and yep,” I affirmed casually, then popped my neck. “To save you the trouble of asking... I'm also an advocate for the whole theory around Humarise actually being a secret evil cult, there being a shadowy criminal overlord ruling all of Japan's underworld, and that the moon is an alien satellite. Probably, at least, not sure about that last one, but I feel it's likely.”

“...chat, I think Bootstrap's had one of those days. So maybe don't take anything he says too seriously. Dude, you really okay?” Buster pressed, staring at me. “Do I need to come over? Or call your girlfriend and tell her to come over?”

The straw ran dry, the hollow noise of a small puddle of liquid not being able to hold pressure rolling out before I casually pulled the instrument out of the can with my mouth. One hand grabbed a new can of acid-flavored citrus caffeine and the other dropped the old can in the trash. I popped it and put the straw in, drawing another deep pull through the clear plastic twisty shape.

“Buster, buddy, no offense, but I am just done with today,” I replied belatedly. “Things started off with my homeroom teacher deciding to expel three-quarters of my class and went downhill from there.”

Kirishima blinked rapidly, staring blankly. “Dude...”

“Dude,” I replied eloquently, nodding.

“I guess hero school is something else,” Buster concluded, “I'm gonna' have to step it up at my internship next week. Gotta be extra manly!”

I chuckled, slowly sipping at my drink. “Alright, my brain's rebooting now that I've downed a full can. Let's see... what's up with the chat? No, I was totally serious about the whole aliens and ghosts thing. Yeah, you'll get to see that when we do the test of courage thing. My classmates...”

“Oh, hey! That's cool! What's up with your classmates?” Kirishima asked, leaning forward.

I let the straw slip out of the hole in my mask and leaned back thoughtfully.

“Well...”

…

“Man, this whole thing blows,” the pink-haired rabbit boy sighed, rubbing at his head.

“With that kind of attitude, you can join the rest of the class I'm formally expelling after this assessment is over,” Aizawa drawled.

“Nah, nah... I gotcha, teach,” he yawned. “It's just... my quirk is kinda' all or nothing. And when I get it going, it really harshes my cool, you know?”

“No, I don't,” Aizawa stated, his eyes slightly bloodshot. “And I don't particularly care, either. Now, your choices are the fifty-meter dash or the heading home. Choose.”

“Right...” The tall boy nodded, rubbing at his face. “I guess we're doing this, then.”

He bounced in place, once-

-twice-

-three-

“Go,” Aizawa stated, clicking the stopwatch.

The ground underneath the boy cratered from his takeoff, a series of pits at regular intervals slamming into the ground from invisible force as something swept by so quickly it left a breeze in its wake. The rippling current of wind was accompanied by a stream-flash of pink, the color flowing along the path like a bolt of lightning.

Then the pink bunny boy materialized on the other end, heaving deep breaths.

“Usagiyama Sakura,” Eraserhead intoned. “Two-point-seven seconds.”

“WHOOOOOOOO-OOOOOOOOYA!” Sakura yelled out, his head turned skyward and his back arching as he stretched his arms out to either side. “LET'S FUCKING GO, BITCHES!”

The small collection of students around me jerked at the sudden cry, all going wide-eyed as they stared at the previously-chill heteromorph.

“What the fuck is his deal?” The silver-haired asked, her nose crinkled in distaste.

I reached up and scratched my cheek. “I'm guessing his quirk has a psychological component. Off the top of my head? Enhanced strength, but he gets really angry when he uses it. Probably something like that, though I wouldn't rule out more general enhancements like speed and endurance as well.”

“O-oh,” the... impressively-endowed blond with horns winced. “That must be so difficult for him.”

“-C'MON, TEACH! LEMME DO IT AGAIN! I BET I CAN GET A FASTER TIME! I WANNA PLUS ULTRA THIS SHIT!” Sakura was ranting at Aizawa.

The man twitched, and I felt a spiritual bond between us as we both simultaneously attempted to decide which of the boy's personalities would become more irritating in the coming months.

Eraserhead's hair bloomed out and his eyes glowed.

Sakura fell to his knees like a puppet with his strings cut, his eyes wide.

Huh, so there's backlash? Is it from the quirk directly or a secondary element like adrenaline flush?

“You turned off Hopping Mad,” Sakura blinked, staring at Aizawa like he'd just found god.

“Back in the line,” Eraserhead commanded stoically, his voice that of a commander brokering no argument. “Next up-”

…

“So, yeah...” I sighed, “I don't know his relationship with Mirko, but I assume there's one. Family name and everything. He becomes really high-energy when he activates his quirk, but he's pretty chill once it turns off.”

“Sounds Manly,” Kirishima nodded firmly. “Still can't believe your teacher failed out over half your class because they didn't do what he said, though. Mega harsh.”

I hummed and skimmed the chat, which was about as divisively argumentative as any discussion of Aizawa's quirk assessment test I'd seen back in my previously life. “One minute. I see a few people who need to get kicked. Yep, you-you-and you all gone. I've archived your usernames and, if I have to do this again, that's a month-long ban. Third strike and that's perma-ban.”

“Totally dude,” Buster shook his head in sage disapproval. “That language was nasty, miss me with that stuff.”

“So, back on topic...” I rolled my hand lazily as I kept sipping from my crazy straw. “Eraserhead is a hardass, no joke, and if he's listening he'll probably take that as a compliment. But his whole deal is that being a hero, the profession, is one that fundamentally asks you to put your life on the line. Even just 'Office Heroes,' like me, go to work day in and day out in a building that's housing villains in detainment cells to hold them for questioning and has a lot of famous crime fighters that villains would love to target for revenge.”

I paused for effect. “That's one of the reasons the insurance premiums the Endeavor Agency pays to keep me on staff are just appalling. Seriously, I saw the numbers. They've gone down since I got properly enrolled in UA, but even what they're paying now would bankrupt most smaller agencies.”

“Oooh, yeah, when you put it like that, being a hero is no joke. You could be caught in the crossfire even if you weren't on active duty or whatever.” Kirishima nodded, showing off an exaggerated grimace with his body language. “Ah... got some people calling BS on you having your license in chat again.”

“Keep it civil or I start handing down bans again,” I warned the camera with a glare. “I don't care if you don't believe me, but personal insults cross a line and poison the well for the entire chat. I'm not letting anyone start a flame war.”

Kirishima nodded firmly. “Totally unmanly behavior. So, anyway, you were talking about Eraserhead?”

“Yeah, so beyond anything else, his red line is when students think there's no consequences for not giving things your all. Not taking the profession seriously. Say what you will about his methods, but he's got a point there,” I explained. “And the people who didn't listen to him thought that they could ignore an order from a senior hero, walk away to do their own thing, and it wouldn't seriously affect them. That's a mistake that can cost you not only your life, but the lives of civilians that you're supposed to be protecting.”

“Truth,” Kirishima hummed, reaching up to rub at his chin. “So what about the rest of your class? And are they okay with being mentioned on here?”

“Sakura was, save for some personal stuff that I'm going to keep to myself,” I waved the concern away. The aforementioned 'personal stuff' being the exact details of his quirk, which I'd left vague. “He said he was a fan, so he might even be listening in right now. As far as the others, I can't do names right now, but that might change after the Sports Festival. But, let's see...”

…

“Hey... um... could I ask you for advice?” The short, dark-haired teen asked, his words awkward and hesitant.

I frowned, catching the accent now that he'd spoken to me directly.

"Enfacher mit Deutsch?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

The slighter student slumped and replied in the same language. “Yes, please! It's such a relief to find someone who speaks German! But, um... the thing that I wanted to ask about... during the exam, I used my computer-”

They waved at the device strapped to their arm.

“-to hack one of the robots that they told us to destroy and used it to kill some others,” they continued to explain, hesitating again. “I still have the data for them and since you seem to have the best handle of the teacher...”

“Ah,” I nodded slowly. “Do it.”

They blinked, toying with the long mane of black hair trailing behind them. “R-really? I was just wondering if I should ask...”

I shook my head. “Just do it. He'll give you points for having the balls to go that far. Besides, if you can still get into their system, it's the school's fault, not yours. I'll have your back if they decide to throw a fit over it.”

With that nudge, they nodded. “Thanks! And, um... thank you, again, for back in the classroom. I'm only here because you said we could look up UA's faculty online. I really bought into Gumi's story.”

“You're welcome, but it was you that did the actual lookup,” I pointed out. “So it's you that gets some of the credit. But, nice to meet you. Name's Bootstrap.”

I held out my hand.

“Oh, ah...” They compulsively wiped their hand on their pants. “Sakae. Sakae J. Durchdenwald. Ah, Sakae is my personal name. I don't mind if you use that instead. My family name is a bit of a mouthful for some people. And I don't have a hero name picked out yet.”

“Cool,” I nodded, shaking their hand firmly and resisting the temptation to ask about pronouns. Judging by their gait, the teen had female hip alignment, but was making allowances for male genitalia... so, until further notice, I'd just use 'they/them.'

When the robot from the general entrance exam carried the otherwise unathletic kid to a four-second run of the fifty-meter dash, Aizawa smiled.

It was just as disturbing to see in real life as it had been on television.

…

“Whoa... that's crazy to believe that a teacher would be okay with that,” Kirishima admitted, chuckling over the story.

“I haven't even gotten to the part where they hacked the recording devices to change the score that was displayed,” I chuckled.

“Okay, now I know you're screwing with me! No way a teacher would let you do that!” Buster argued, his tone joking more than argumentative.

“In a lot of ways, UA is kind of the opposite of the traditional Japanese educational environment,” I explained thoughtfully. “Or it could be how Eraserhead runs his classes in particular, but... the feeling I got from day one is more than that. Being a hero puts a lot of emphasis on personal responsibility and action. If there's a problem, you're expected to solve it personally, not wait for someone else or find an authority who can take over the situation. So – as far as my limited experience goes – out of the box thinking and creativity is rewarded.”

“Yeah, I guess I get it. A lot of school is memorization now that I think about it, huh? Man, it's kind of a bummer that we don't get prepped for hero school.” Buster sighed and shook his head.

“Keep in mind that less than one percent of people in Japan claim 'hero' as an occupation,” I pointed out, then poked the chat. “Yes, it's true. These are public statistics, you can look them up. But my point is that the education system isn't really meant to cater to heroes specifically. In fact, that's one of the big reasons why we start training formally at fifteen. You've got enough education to master the basics, but not enough to be too set in your ways to react to crisis circumstances in ways that a hero would find... counterproductive, let's say.”

If I weren’t on blast to nearly half a million viewers/listeners, I'd have had a few more harsh words for the Japanese education system. Memorization had its place in education and don't let anyone tell you differently, but critical thinking and problem solving were just as necessary components of any good schooling experience.

And Japan seriously lacked those.

“But, yeah, that student sounds cool. What'd they say their quirk was?” Kirishima asked curiously.

“They weren't specific, but it seemed to be something that allowed them to interface with technology. I think there might be more to it, but all I know for now is that it let them remotely control the robot they'd manipulated during the exam,” I explained with a shrug.

Which was what Sakae had cleared me to talk about. Their quirk actually needed some kind of digital 'portal' to boost the signal they gave off, but no one else needed to know that right now. Besides, the arm-mounted computer was legitimate hardened support gear registered to them, so it wasn't like they were ever going to be without it in a crisis situation.

On a more personal note... I'd felt something trying to worm its way into my mind while talking to him. Not in an active or intentional way, but almost like what my own quirk did as it passively connected to someone I was speaking with.

I suspected the vague way he'd referred to his ability as 'an interface quirk' did, indeed, leave something out.

“Okay, now you said there were two girls in your class?” Kirishima asked, propping his chin up. “I know Pinkie is listening in tonight and she'll really let me have it if I don't get the details on them.”

“Well, fair warning, I'm only green lit to share a little bit,” I replied.

“That's cool, dude. It's manly to respect peoples' wishes.”

…

Aizawa blinked at the results on his digital device. “One thousand, five hundred, and thirty four.”

I have to admit, I joined the rest of the class in staring at the silver-haired girl as she wiped sweat from her brow and popped her neck. Casually, she threw up a middle finger to Eraserhead as she walked off and Sakura groaned as he stepped up to the side-step testing area.

“Impressive,” I complimented her as she approached.

“It's whatever,” she scoffed, then turned to me with a raised eyebrow. “I don't know whether or not I should be pissed at you.”

“Oh?” I hummed with a shrug.

“If you hadn't walked out on that loudmouth like you were the hottest shit to ever drop out of someone's asshole,” she replied, “I would've probably ended up trailing that dick instead. But between him and that bitch he had hanging on his every word, I figured the easier way out of this hell hole was to see how badly you were fucking things up.”

I stared at her for a long moment. “You could just walk out the front gates if you legitimately don't want to be here, you know?”

She scoffed again and rolled her eyes as she threw her arms over her head. “Not likely. My fucking grand-dad pulled some strings to get me into the school. Senile old man, ugh... anyway, it's either this or juvenile detention, so I'm stuck here until I fail out.”

I read between the lines and nodded slowly.

In all likelihood, whatever agreement she'd been offered stipulated that she had to legitimately attempt to pass the classes and get her hero license. That was a common enough clause to such things, anyway. 'Demonstrate reasonable effort,' or some such thing. Which likely meant that if she just so happened to fail because of literally any other reason, she'd wouldn't have to go to juvie and she'd be free from the responsibilities of UA.

Until she got picked up again, at least.

I pondered on her attitude for a moment, then decided to give her a little push.

“Waiting for someone else to fuck up your life is even more of a coward's way out than just admitting you can't do something and walking away,” I stated bluntly.

Oh, that one struck a chord, didn't it?

I could see her bristle like a pissed off cat, but unlike my Himiko she couldn't find an immediate comeback and wasn't willing to outright attack me. Though the way every muscle on every limb tensed and strained suggested that she was fighting the urge to do so with every bit of self-control she had.

“I'm going to take what you just said and make you eat it, you chunni little fuck,” she stated, her red eyes burning.

“I'll believe it when I see it,” I nodded at her, turning towards where Aizawa had just called my name. “I'm Bootstrap, by the way, but you probably already knew that.”

The way I'd said it – as I'd intended it – rubbed her like sandpaper as her lips pulled back from her teeth. “Neiko. The name's Neiko, and you better remember it, shit-heel.”

I actually chuckled at that one.

It was pretty good.

Which, of course, only seemed to piss her off more.

But I took solace in the fact that she'd almost instantly gone from, 'I'm here against my will,' to 'I'm going to fuck up anyone who stands in the way of my success.'

Himiko, at least, would be entertained by how easy she was to manipulate.

Also, it was good to know that I'd had a momentary fuck up and hadn't actually lost my edge at wrapping people around my little finger. Seriously, coming at the class the entirely wrong way earlier had really injured my pride and I was still kicking myself over not doing a tarot reading or something beforehand.

Still, I'd have fun seeing just how far basic reverse psychology would get me with Little Miss Delinquent.

…

“-so, yeah, I asked her how much it would be cool to talk about her on the stream and she basically told me to keep her name out of my mouth,” I shrugged apologetically, deciding to leave out the profanity she'd injected into the statement.

“Mega harsh, but she sounds like she has a really cool quirk, at least,” Kirishima offered with a shrug of his own.

I nodded, deciding to leave out my suspicions again.

Such as the reason why she'd used her apparent super speed on the side-step test, but only on one small leg of the fifty-meter dash. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure it was even super speed by the classical definition of the power.

But that was neither here nor there.

Neiko... well, even if she had a potential criminal record, my read on her wasn't that of a hardened criminal.

I didn't want to run into a UA traitor situation, so I'd do my diligence on all of my classmates, but my first take on her character was that she was being honest. She'd fucked around, gotten in trouble, and had a relative with connections broker a deal for her to have a chance at UA.

I'd want to see who that relative was, of course, but unless that set off red flags, I'd likely just leave it at that.

“Anyway, the last girl in my class... she seemed pretty shy,” I stated thoughtfully.

“Ah, so probably not much on her, either, huh?” Buster asked, then changed his posture suddenly as he folded his arms. “Oi, oi! None of that now! Bootstrap ain't the only one who can ban people if you decide to throw around words like that, guys! You do not get to talk about hero course students like that on this stream.”

“I concur, for the record,” I stated bluntly, affecting a more predatory posture. “Keep in mind, too, that I'm a fully-fledged employee of the Endeavor Agency. I am legally-obligated to report threats like the ones you're dangerously close to making. Not to mention I'd do it anyway. None of that internet tough guy, 'teach them a lesson' stuff. Final warning.”

I raised an eyebrow at what I saw pop up next.

“Okay, that's it-” Kirishima started, actually sounding pissed off now.

“I got it,” I replied, bringing up one of the programs I'd pulled off a freeware forum, modified, and then had Himiko steal from me and completely revamp to perform ten times better than I'd gotten it to. “Okay, yep. Got your IP scrapped – your VPN isn't rated against what I'm using to track you, FYI – and I'm sending this along with the death threats you've made to both my agency and the police. What happens next is your own fault.”

“Damn, I sometimes forget how scary Bootstrap really is,” Buster muttered, the fire going out of him. “Woof, I'd say I felt bad for whoever that was, but not with them saying that kind of stuff. Totally unmanly.”

“Agreed-” I paused, looking down at my phone as it vibrated. “-and I'm going to have to log off soon. Apparently someone at the agency wants to do a debrief about what just happened, so my night just got longer. Woo.”

Buster chuckled. “So, anything to tell us about that last girl before you sign off to deal with paperwork.”

I sighed and leaned back. “Her quirk's a transformation one, that's mostly it.  Otherwise, she’s nice - just shy.  But her quirk’s very strong, I’ll say that much.”

…

“EEEEEEEEE!” Yoake screamed, her hands going to her chest as the scales covering her upper half faded. “Don't look, don't look!”

I could still see Eraserhead out of the corner of my eye as he looked skyward and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Dammit, not another one.”

We probably weren't supposed to hear that.

“Ah, here...” Sakae muttered, picking up the blond girl's bag and rushing over. “I-I guess this is why you brought extra clothes, isn't it?”

“I thought I could keep it under control this time,” Yoake whined as she pulled out a jacket and tried to pull it on as quickly as she could without revealing more of herself than she already had.

“See the support department about something that can take the strain of your transformation,” Aizawa droned tiredly, sounding even more done with this entire mess than he already had been when it started.

Sakura nudged me as he lit up another blunt. “Nice rack on her, huh?”

I sighed, wondering if it was too late to get failed out of UA for the year. On the one hand, Aizwa might just see through the attempt and drag me back to help deal with this building shitshow. On the other hand, if I ditched on this, I'd have to go back to middle school, leave Himiko at UA, and sign up for the utter madness that was the canon class of 1-A.

Dammit, guess I'm stuck.

“Can you at least smoke downwind of me?” I sighed and, to his credit, Sakura chuckled and blushed before sidestepping me and moving to where the smoke wouldn't cloud me. And, thankfully, he did so without even trying to catch a look at the wardrobe malfunction off to our side.

Even if I could tell he wanted to.

Meanwhile, I revved myself up for what was going to happen next. Aizawa had used me as the 'human baseline' test for his speech about how illogical the physical education system was in regards to quirk use, so I still hadn't thrown my 'real' ball.

Which was good, because I was prepared to show off a little.

See, one of my many reasons I'd wanted to go ahead and pick up a full house for my pocket dimension was because it let me have the facilities and the space to do a little testing. Or, really, a lot of testing. Exhaustive testing, in fact.

To find out exactly which techniques in my arsenal leaked and to what degree.

“Bootstrap,” Aizawa called out and chucked a ball my way. “You're up.”

“Roger,” I replied casually as I caught the ball and tested the heft. In the back of my mind, Ranma's instincts rose up as they tasted a competition, River's mind crunched raw calculations for weight and windspeed, and Cass pictured the perfect technique to maximize distance.

The sidereal yawned and rolled her eyes, uninterested in such trifles.

She did think Aizawa was hot, though, in that weird disheveled way of his.

Which I thoroughly ignored.

“Overclock, level three,” I stated aloud, drawing the teacher's attention as he narrowed his eyes, “safeties, disabled. Five second burst.”

Tightly controlled ki flowed through me, just the barest sliver of the energy enhancing me as I pulled back my arm and took up a pitcher's stance.

Then I chucked the damn thing as hard as I fucking could.

“Over a thousand meters,” Aizawa drawled as he looked at his readout, his gaze piercing me when he lifted it from the screen. “Your quirk is a psychic emitter, isn't it? There's nothing in your file about telekinesis.”

The real question wasn't asked, but I nodded anyway and elaborated. “My quirk works on myself. If I push too hard or too long I'll break something, but I'm good for short bursts as long as I'm careful.”

There was the faintest hint of approval in the man's stance, his capture weapon sliding to cover up a grin I wasn't supposed to see. “Creative, good. I'll raise my expectations commensurately, I hope you're ready to meet them.”

I snorted, but nodded. “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.”

~~~

Been a while since we had some good Kirishima content, so this is a good way to both tie up the quirk assessment test AND get some screen time for our most manly character.

This chapter is mostly a peek into the potential interactions Hitoshi will have with his five-strong class of weirdos and delinquents.

Hope everyone enjoys this. I'll have... something out over the weekend. Might be Entrepreneurial Spirit, might be some Marvel Industrious. Something like that.

Have a great Friday and the weekend's almost here!

Butler Boy - Chapter 9

I tore out of the backdoor of the house, running over the back lawn and past the warre, and was in the forest almost before my mother's voice could ring out-

“Be back for dinner, Arden!”

I would have called back an affirmative, but I was in the middle of hurdling one of the large rocks that peppered any landscape in this area that hadn't been properly developed. Barely stopping, I put my fingers to my mouth and gave an ear-piercing whistle.

I could have stopped now that my ride was on her way, but I was enjoying the freedom of running.

My enforced bedrest and light exercise restriction were finally – finally – fully lifted. Officially, the rules had been cut yesterday, but as much fun as it would have been to run off and do something, I'd had a date.

A howl in the distance let me know that my ride was here and I hopped up on a stump as a great shaggy best came loping into view through the wood. Almost four feet of jet black fur, claws, and teeth that I'd put money on against sheet metal... all of that in a frame that was seven feet long and over a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle.

“Who's a good girl?” I asked in the most cutesy voice I could, fearlessly reaching out to give her rubs. “Whossa gurl? Whossa good puppers?”

Shadow immediately rolled over and demanded belly rubs, making happy doggo noises as I scratched her all over. “You are so lucky I'm already used to taking care of monsters like you. Oh, and let's see... need to introduce you!”

A quick hand-seal later and there was suddenly another pair of canines in the forest. Yin and Ynag, the spirit dogs I'd received a week or so ago, tucked their tails slightly for a few moments... but relaxed when Shadow proved non-hostile.

“Okay, I've got three tickets to pull, an incredible discovery that might change my life to test, and other powers that I still haven't really gotten to flex as much as I wanted,” I muttered, clicking my tongue and hesitating. “But right now... I just really want to do one thing...”

As much as she might look it, Shadow wasn't just an animal.

She was my familiar, and that meant something.

I couldn't exactly control her, not like a puppet or anything. That was outside of the scope of my abilities. I also couldn't order her to do complex tasks. She was still a dire wolf, after all. Even if her association with me increased her cognitive abilities somewhat, she couldn't exactly read or do electronics repair or something like that. I had no doubt that some familiars offered by the gacha could, in fact, perform up to those parameters, but... I honestly wasn't sure if I wanted one.

My spirit dogs, magical creatures that they were, I could cheat a little bit. They were connected to me a little more strongly and could read my emotions and intent to some extent. Again, nothing complex, but I could (and had) get the to retrieve objects for me and the like. They were also excellent trackers and – through that connection – I could feel when they properly locked onto a scent.

Shadow, my dire wolf, had stricter conditions.

First, she wasn't able to hide in my shadow. Which, upon reflection, made her name a bit questionable, but whatever. She was a giant black doggo who could move around far more silently than something her size should be able to. The name was fine.

While she couldn't intuit orders from me non-verbally, Shadow was able to discern my intent a little bit more clearly than I felt she should be able to given how new we were to each other. I kind of assumed she had a keen nose, but I didn't get the same ephemeral feeling I did when using Yin or Yang to track something. Other than that, she could pretty much do anything the spirit dogs could with the added benefit of being generally bigger, stronger, and with a larger bite.

But, unlike the spirit dogs, food wasn't optional for her.

Shadow was a living creature, full stop.

And that meant I'd probably have to leave her to hunt fairly frequently or figure out how to clandestinely acquire significant amounts of dog food locally without arousing suspicion. I'd only be able to get away with buying an extra bag or two so many times before someone at the store would compliment my willingness to run errands for my mother to her face.

Dad would shrug it off, but Mom?

Mom kept an eagle eye out on the food ever since someone started sneaking into the pantry and stealing kibble between meals.

Shadow was, in many ways, a omen of things to come with the gacha... or, at least, how I suspected things would go. I couldn't hide her, not really. Her saving grace was that – as a wild animal – she was largely self-sufficient outside of the times I needed her. Sooner or later, I'd likely get something that required significant attention, couldn't be conveniently hidden, and created some kind of disruption simply by its presence.

That would be my secret's undoing.

“Which is why I'm going to enjoy it as much as I can in the meantime,” I grinned and prodded Shadow into a laying position. “Okay, I have treats-”

Three sets of ears perked up at that.

“-for later,” the whines sounded out in disappointment, “but first... we're going for a ride.”

Then, I slipped one leg over Shadow and patted her shoulder, prodding her to stand up and me to sway slightly as I found my balance. This was the primary reason I wanted to keep her around if I was painfully honest. Beyond being an amazing familiar/pet, I mean. The gacha text had outright stated that she could be used as a mount, and I intended to make the most of that today.

Because I was a dirty, filthy weeb at heart and had loved Princess Mononoke from the very first time I'd seen it.

“Okay, now... slowly,” I stated.

And immediately regretted several recent life choices.

But for only a moment.

“Oh My God!” I screamed, my voice high and panicked as I fought back manic laughter. Suddenly traveling at extremely high speeds had that effect, apparently. And, yeah, I'd almost certainly gone as fast or faster in a car on the highway, but...

The wind whipped by.

Shadow leapt over a bush, landed on the side of a boulder, and bounded away using it as a springboard.

Needless to say, riding a highly-mobile animal was a very different experience from even something like a four-wheeler or dirt bike, let alone a regular car or truck on a paved roadway.

“Wooo!”

Around the time that I almost lost my grip on my mighty stead while she took me up a nearly-vertical cliff a few dozen feet high, though, I finally gave in and pulled her over.

I barely managed to hobble off and roll onto the rocky bed Shadow had found to set down.

“Note to self,” I muttered aloud. “Either get a saddle for the dire wolf or start building up riding calluses.”

Because even just a ten minute ride? Little ouch.

Hearing the sound of lapping puppies, I groaned and sat up.

“Oh, wow...” I breathed quietly, looking around. “This is... really high.”

The sun hung high in the sky, not quite noon yet. In the summer, it would be harsh, but this early in spring... it cut the otherwise brisk air with warmth and left the scene before me bright and crisp. Mountains stretched off in several directions, the valley that Thomasville rested in distant enough to make me wonder how far we'd managed to get in just...

What, fifteen minutes? Twenty?

Looking around further, I saw the three dogs drinking from a small pond on the... oh, we were on a fucking cliff, weren't we? The mountain continued up higher behind me, climbing quickly into areas that were still covered with lingering winter snow. Here, though, there was scattered grass growing on an otherwise rocky ledge that extended for another few hundred feet with the aforementioned pond taking up one side of it.

“You are so lucky I can get myself down from here without going splat,” I told the dire wolf as I pulled off my backpack and slipped my thermos free to take a deep pull of the water within.

I stood and stretched, feeling refreshed as the canines lazed by the pool of water, walking around the space and taking note of a... not quite cave, but close. A gap between boulders that would shield you from the wind. Given the mostly-destroyed deer carcasses, I could guess that this was the home that Shadow had made for herself when I'd told her to go find somewhere to bed down outside of town.

“This is prime secret base territory,” I stated aloud to myself, appreciating both the view, the relative isolation, and the fact that civilization was still, if barely, in sight. Far enough away to have space to experiment with my powers, but close enough for medical help if I did something particularly stupid.

I mean, I had a healing power, but I wasn't completely brain-dead.

That didn't make me invincible.

“Okay, this will work,” I nodded and began 'making camp.' Which, really, it was just a folding camp chair and a fire-log that would last for a few hours. I might have pyrokinetic powers to shield me from most of the cold, but I'd never met a person who didn't appreciate a nice campfire.

That took all of a few minutes before I was nestled with my back against a large boulder with a mound of rocks built around another bare area of the cliff next to me.

Within crackled a merry fire built from the log I'd brought and what sticks I'd found lying about.

Shadow, Yin, and Yang had all reoriented themselves nearby, enjoying the warmth...

...and likely smelling the hot dogs, marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers I'd brought with me.

But that wasn't all I'd grabbed on my way out the door.

Because, contrary to every expectation I'd had, I might be able to learn a little magic ahead of schedule.

'Magic' was a taboo subject in the Villin home, for the most part. There were some movies and tv shows that touched on it that weren't outright banned, but even those were best discussed outside of my mother's hearing. But for something like Dungeons & Dragons? Right out. That wasn't to say I hadn't pirated virtually the entire first and second edition systems.

Granted, I didn't play much, if only because there was still some social stigma over the subject and finding a local who knew proper hygiene and would be willing to GM was difficult.

Long story short, I'd already verified that the original version of the DMG and Player's Handbook were not, in fact, secret spellbooks in disguise, regardless of what the Satanic Panic of the eighties would have led someone to believe.

So I'd made a detour to the local game store and picked up a Tolkien dictionary and a few other things.

Nope.

I'd stayed away from the black magic section, though. I mean, I wanted to learn magic and everything, but there were limits. Even if I could tell anyone I sold my soul to to fuck off with that noise, I knew there's be consequences once I started doing so.

That was like... not even a last resort.

Maybe a 'superman goes evil' resort or something?

But just as I was about to start spelling stuff sdrawkcab, I'd finally found it.

A real spellbook. A magical tome of power. A grimoire.

I cracked the book open and took a deep breath. “Okay, let's see... here we go... nice and easy for the first spell. No fireballs or lightning bolts. Just a simple light spell.”

I took another calming breath, focused on the soft crackling of the fire, and held out my hand.

“And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light.”

My magic flexed and a small orb of light hovered over my palm. I sat there, blinking at it, before beginning to laugh, then chuckle, and then outright full-body laugh.

“I did it! I fucking did it!” I grinned, the thrill of success running through me. “Fuck yes!”

“Woof!”

“I choose to take that as a congratulatory remark and not a noise complaint,” I informed the dire wolf primly, unable to keep a smile off my face.

Still, I was coming down off the immediate high and realizing what this meant, now.

“Okay, so... I think it's the tattoo,” I said aloud, humming thoughtfully. “I've been going to church every week for the past several years and never noticed a weird surge of energy during the hymns before... so, either that or the gacha just spontaneously give you the ability to learn magic.”

I doubted that.

“No... I'm pretty sure it was the clause in the Brand of Tzeentch. That I'm capable of casting spells I wouldn't normally be able to or something like that...” I cocked my head thoughtfully. “Something about racial restrictions, I think.”

I closed the bible that I'd just read from and considered the matter.

“Okay... so I'm drawing energy from heaven... probably,” I stated, standing and beginning to walk around the pond. “This is DC, so I'm dealing with The Presence-”

I jerked as I felt a thrum of energy pulse through me, my eyes going wide.

After an obligatory moment of watchful near-panic and nothing happening... nothing continued to happen. “Okay. Note to self: Total ban on addressing any deities by their names or titles. Someone is eventually going to hear me and show up. With my luck, I'll be in for interesting times.”

I shook my head and wandered over to grab my water bottle again.

“Alright! All of that aside... I should be dealing with the Silver City, and that place is mostly isolationist, as far as I recall. There was that one angel who came down to earth...” I cocked my head, trying to remember who that was. Azazel? No... that was DxD. I knew his name started with a 'Z,' though. “Eh, probably best I don't remember who it was. Can't say the name if I don't remember it, ha!”

That bark of laughter at the end there might have been a bit manic, but who would blame me?

“I am in so far over my head it's a wonder I haven't literally drowned already,” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Alright... angels... isolationist. They're... mostly assholes, I think?”

I knew Gabriel was a dick, at least.

But enough of a dick to actually get off his heavenly throne and come down to smite a random human channeling holy power?

I was leaning towards no.

“I mean, priests and pastors and whatnot have to drive away vampires and demons somehow, right?” I asked, the dogs and wolf not answering me because they were dogs and a wolf. “I just haven't been ordained or anything. Basically using a cheat code to siphon off God-juice.”

I paused for a moment.

“Yeah, never saying that again. Ew,” I shook my head. “Pros and cons?”

I sat back down and thought intensively on the subject for a few moments. “Pros. I'm very obviously not using demonic magic. I'm quoting scripture to use as a spellcasting focus. Virtually nonexistent chance of a demon showing up to fuck with me. And demons are a real and legitimate concern that I – as a magic user – need to be worried about at some point. Holy magic can drive them away, so that's good. Also, when and if I make a public debut, I won't have to worry about criticisms form the evangelical crowd if I cast spells like this. Holy magic is also traditionally good for healing and restoration, which are generally in short supply. Might be able to deal with toxic stuff, too, if I can get into purification.”

That was a big draw, honestly. If I could actually purify things, I'd be able to deal with various kinds of toxins and pollutants, possibly even radioactive waste. Beyond the really awesome fact that I'd be fixing otherwise irreparable damage to the planet's biosphere... well, it'd also be a great reliable source of gacha pulls, too.

“Alright... all valid points, how about cons?” I hesitated again, considering the point. “Becoming a beacon of holy power might actually invite demons to come knocking just to kick my shit in, entirely possible. A pissed off angel could also show up at my door and hand down anything from a very stern warning to a personal smiting, unlikely as it might be. Let's see... secret identity becomes hugely important if I go down this path. If I start using what amounts to angel magic and get my name and face splashed across the afternoon news, my life is beyond fucked. Forget lawsuits, I'll have to deal with crazy evangelical cultists and religious nutjobs out the wazoo.”

Which... brought up the important question of whether or not I actually needed magic.

I was already a top-tier pyromancer and could pull a decent Human Torch impersonation. That put me in the top one percent of heroes world-wide if I could really max out that ability.

Do I really need magic?

This was one of those moments where people asked why superman's bodysuit didn't have a lead lining to it. Or why Batman didn't use this or that gadget. Many people just thought that because you could do something – become stronger – it meant you should do that. But... there were consequences to that kind of escalation. Even if you were willing to put people in the ground to make sure they never got back up again with a new weapon or a coalition of villains to take you down, power attracted power.

Someone – or something – would probably step up to fight me.

But, more important than some nebulous threat...did I want to become the kind of person who chased power? Was I already becoming that person because of the gacha?

I looked down at the slip of paper that had materialized when I'd cast that spell.

My first spell, an achievement worthy of a bronze ticket.

I rubbed the shiny paper between my fingers for another moment. I owed it to myself not to go into this blind, at the very least. I wasn't going to be the kind of person who went looking for the next hit, the next high mindlessly. Magic, just like the gacha, needed to be a choice.

My choice.

“I learn magic,” I decided. “I want to be a hero. Learning holy magic will let me heal. If another hero died because of some mystical shit that my blood couldn't cure, I'd blame myself. I'll learn magic.”

That decided, I pulled out the tickets that I had stored up.

“Big one first,” I stated, tearing the gold one I'd gotten for attracting Batman's attention. The capsule appeared in my palm with the usual fanfare and I cracked it open to reveal another slip of paper. “Let's see... Helltaker – that doesn't sound, wait...”

I stared at the small blurb in disbelief.

“You wake up, dreaming of a harem of demon girls. Infernally-aligned or demonic beings find themselves more attracted to you and it is easier to earn their affection.”

I opened my mouth, turned to stare at the canines, then shook my head and turned back to the slip of paper. “You know what? No. I'm not going to touch this. My life's already weird enough. This is going in the same fucking box as the Kama Sutra shit.”

This would bite me in the ass one day, I knew it.

“Next up,” I sighed, picking up the silver ticket and tearing it. Another sound effect and another plastic egg. “Let's see what a successful first date gets you... Intermediate Item Construction. You know how to make decent magical and enchanted items, if you know fire magic you can making a flaming sword, etc...”

I hummed and tucked that one away as well, much more satisfied as I felt slightly light-headed from the surge of knowledge. “Ugh, might have to pop my Stim thing after this is all over. Hopefully I don't get another major skill dump... even if I think I'm getting used to them. Still, that's a really useful long-term thing... and I can actually use magic now! So it's not completely useless!”

Seriously, if I'd pulled this before figuring out how to steal magic from angels, I'd have probably lost my shit a little.

“Anyway...”

Bronze time, and...

I shrugged, tearing both at the same time. One for my first kiss and another fir my first spell.

Cracking the first egg, I blinked as – in addition to the usual paper – a large walkman popped into existence. It was a huge cassette-player monster from the eighties... or it looked like that at first glance. I frowned and stared at what should have been the tinted plastic showing how much magnetic tape was left on the reel. Instead, it was...

“Is that a digital display?” I asked, making an odd face before shaking my head and turning to the paper slip. “Okay... Music Player. Not just an ordinary music player, this player is indestructible and has excellent sound quality, with built-in speakers and headphones. It is capable of playing any song the holder has heard of before and records it inside its archive.”

“Oh my god, this is fucking amazing!” I squealed like a teenage girl and fought the urge to activate it right that moment. I still had another plastic capsule in my hand. “Okay, okay... calm down. Now... last one.”

I cocked my head as I read over the blurb. “Intermediate Blunt Weapon Mastery-”

I winced, my head feeling full enough that I was bordering on a migraine. “Shit... I should have brought pain killers. Ugh... yeah, okay, stim time.”

I triggered the ability and felt my body reset, energy draining out of me as I wobbled while I sat. “Oof, that's still a huge bite out of me... but I don't feel like my head is going to explode, at least.”

Even if it still felt full, like I needed a full eight hours in bed, I didn't feel like my skull was splitting. “Okay, let's see... you are fairly skilled in handling blunt instruments such as weapons, hammers, mauls, and clubs. You know how to effectively move your body and weapon to make good use of it, being able to match most practitioners in skill and finesse.”

I cocked my head curiously. “Do fists count as-”

I blinked, information streaming in.

“Okay, yeah... fists, knees, feet, elbows... kind of a general fighting perk. Neat,” I nodded. I hadn't really gotten one of those yet, so this was nice. Actually knowing how to punch things instead of needing to resort to setting people on fire was a hell of an improvement.

“Now time for the music player!” I grinned, hefting what was easily my new favorite toy. “How do I, oh – little keyboard, okay... does it have? Yes! It has everything I've ever listened to! Oh thank you, god! Now it's been over ten years, but...”

You know one of the weird things this world didn’t have?

Transformers.

Which meant that one of the greatest songs ever made wasn’t around.

I resolved, then and there, as Stand Bush began to sing, to bring this song to the masses one day.

I felt something in me relax as I listened to the music.  Letting it wind down, I reached into my pack and pulled out the smores and hotdog fixings I had stored away, instantly drawing canine attention to me.  Grinning, I grabbed a couple of metal rods from my backpack as well, lancing them through and beginning to cook even as I tore a couple of dogs into pieces for my quadrupedal compatriots.

That done, my notebook made an appearance as well and I reopened my grimoire.

“Now, time to find some spells.”

~~~

Here we go! Picking back up with Arden's adventures, he's a very busy young man scraping the last of his enforced vacation for some time to himself.

Next, a return to school!

And facing down the parents of his bullies!

Lot of stuff to cover even as he slowly begins to plan his future super heroic career.

Little does he know, however, problems are just beyond the horizon....

As for the Awesome Tier poll, this month has Entrepreneurial Spirit winning by virtue of my single voter on Subscribe Star. So that will get the extra long chapter this month.

Oh, and next update will be Mind Games. Look for that in a few days.

Mind Games - Chapter 41

Chapter 41:

May all the gods and demons above and below help me, but my worst fears were confirmed the very moment I stepped inside the classroom.

It was full of teenagers.

Worse, they were wearing uniforms.

Which, by the way, I hated.

Not the design of it, no. Visually, it looked pretty slick, I had to admit. And it took some skill to include green and red in a design and not end up looking lie a walking Christmas tree. The gray blazer with green accents tied the slacks into the whole design very nicely and I enjoyed the polished brass buttons both in front and on the epaulets. Given the white undershirt, the red tie actually gave the otherwise-drab outfit a much-needed burst of color.

As far as school uniforms went, at least it wasn't the mono-black post WW2 throwback gakuran. There was simplicity and then there was laziness.

So I didn't hate the design.

I just hated wearing the damn thing.

Neck ties and I were never on speaking terms at the best of times. I could count the occasions I'd worn one on a single hand, really. Blazers were... well, they were alright, I guess. UA's was admittedly one of the least-constricting versions I'd worn and allowed for a good range of motion while retaining a sturdy feel to it. The slacks fit alright, but their pockets – as with almost every pair of the things I'd ever fucking owned – were just too damn small. They also rode up in weird places, but that was pretty common with the things, too.

Oh, and the socks were awful. Just... I think they were these locally-sourced wool things. Part of me wondered if these were just the winter set, but the rest of me didn't care.

In contrast I was wearing a set of thick black urban camo gear that could nearly double as army fatigues, boots I could kick down a reinforced door with, and enough gear to comfortably assault a doomsday cult's dug in compound, all of which had been secured at my belt and various straps on my arms and legs that had stylized boot-prints on them, same as the large one on my back.

To make matters worse, I'd pulled up the bottom part of my face guard, modeled after the menpo of a Samurai's helmet with snarling demon fangs. The actual headpiece and eye-guard I'd tucked away in my backpack out of a desire to at least pretend I wasn't being an edgy anti-social asshole with a chip on his shoulder looking to intimidate my entire peer group.

Almost all of whom turned to look at me with wide eyes as I lazily sauntered into the room, found my seat, and dropped my backpack on the desk's hooks before slinging my bow's strap onto the chair-back.

The ambient noise of the room died to almost nothing during that slow walk to my desk. And it continued to be utterly silent as I reached into my back and pulled out a shitty light novel that was barely better than the online stories I used to read. It was somewhat of a prop, but I needed something to kill a little time here and there.

Also, it took my mind off the godawful stench in the classroom.

Seriously, did someone drag a fucking head shop into UA?

Then the whispers started.

“Holy shit, that's the guy! The guy from the entrance exam! Bootstrap!”

A deer heteromorph, tittering in excitement.

“Duuu~uuude, who the hell is he kidding, walking in like that?”

A guy with light blue skin, parts of his body occasionally transitioning to water and back again.

“Look, I don't give a shit about that guy. Is it the rabbit who's stinking the room up? Because I'm about to throw hands with the bozo who is.”

That one was a white-haired girl – almost silver – who looked authentically pissed off and about to commit some violence, unlike...

“No one asked you, bitch. Ugh, I mean, does he think he's better than us? Just cause he has a costume?”

A 'tough girl' type, male haircut, chip on her shoulder, her hair floating in an unreal breeze.

“Ugh, people like him piss me off! It's like... they get a little famous and it all goes to their head!”

A guy, phantasmal miniature figures sitting on his desk with various archaic weapons as he sneered with black teeth.

“Shouldn't someone say something? He's going to get us all in trouble if the teacher's in a bad mood the first flippin' day.”

This one was a girl, fairly nondescript, looking anxious and furtive.

“Yeah, that's right! He can't just waltz in here not wearing a uniform!”

A classy boy in an elaborate hairstyle, too many charms and emblems on his bag for my taste.

There was more muttering, but that was the gist of it. Whereas the entrance exam had jumped people from different schools and communities together, blending a group of people from all across Japan (or further, in some instances) and relaxed social mores by avoiding a strict dress code...

The classroom environment was something else.

Here, conformity was king and social norms was his queen.

And, in their defense, I could get behind the criticism. I was deliberately triggering people, after all, and intentionally setting myself outside of and above the normal strictures of 'how things worked.' I probably wouldn't like it if some rich and/or famous snob decided to waltz into my high school with designer clothing rocking a bad attitude either.

But they were hero students. They were here to learn how to be heroes, public servants, and law enforcement. They needed these lessons. I had a hero license, I had a job at a top-rated agency, and I was doing real work that had a legitimate impact on the world already. I was only here to assuage the concern of Fuyumi and Enji that I was adequately socialized and Himiko could function without me holding her leash.

As the now-ancient meme went...

'We are not the same.'

So as much of a dick as it made me look in the short term, I would save myself an infinite amount of grief and petty schoolyard politics by drawing a clear and undeniable line between myself and everyone else in the room.

“Where's your uniform?”

I hummed, lazily looking up at the large-muscled teen standing in front of my desk, noting the open and more concealed stares among the rest of the class. Some were looking on in trepidation, others in anticipation.

“You have your UA rulebook?” I asked in reply, my eyes going back down to my light novel and lazily flipping a page.

The pocket-sized book was set on my desk with slightly more force than necessary. “Uniforms are required to be worn at all times while on campus, outside of physical activities requiring gym suits and practical courses for hero work.”

Which, yes, was the relevant rule, but not the entirety of the exceptions. Support personnel, for instance, had a variety of approved protective gear they could select from and the rules were pretty lax about whatever they wore underneath that. Blue collar, as always, didn't give a shit as long as you could do the work.

“Subsection Seven,” I stated blandly.

There was a moment's pause, then the heavily-muscled black, spiky-haired teen grunted and flipped the book open. There was a moment of silent consideration as he likely skimmed for the part I'd indicated. “Exceptions to the uniform code to be granted in the event a student has a full active hero license and is employed by a recognized and registered Japanese hero agency.”

I reached into my waist pouch/pocket for the second time that morning and flipped my wallet open, exposing the two-part ID.

Which was actually a funny story, because it had been a pain in the ass to find a good wallet that actually suited my purposes. A lot of Japanese wallets were built to hold too many coins for my taste, first off, so they were more like miniature purses instead of American style stuff. More than that, I just didn't like the accordion design. I'd almost ended up ordering something from overseas before I'd found a shop that sold custom work.

Himiko had insisted on coming with me and asking an attendant intricate questions where I couldn't overhear, so at least I knew what I was getting for my birthday in a few months. Or, at least, I knew it was probably going to be something from that shop, they sold a wide variety of things.

At any rate, I flipped out the doubled ID holders, showing off not just my hero license, but also my national ID, my Endeavor Agency verification card, and a type of hero-specific passport card Japan issued for people who had to access foreign embassies within Japanese borders. I'd made a horrible mistake in just getting it because the agency offered it and subsidized the fees as well as giving me a tiny pay hike, but that was another story.

After several long seconds of silence, I flipped it closed, then slid the wallet back into the pouch at my waist.

“Just because you can flout the rules like this, doesn't mean you should,” the student before me tried to rally. “You're flaunting a privilege that the rest of the class doesn't have.”

“It's a right which I earned,” I rebutted bluntly. “And, as another student, it is not your place to seek to enforce your interpretation of school rules. If you see a problem with my conduct, I encourage you to seek out a school authority and take the issue up with them.”

There was another pause.

And then a shift from his posture, moving from confrontational solution-oriented to confrontational aggressive-demanding. There wasn't really a great way to translate the change, but I fundamentally understood it as someone who'd decided that saving face in front of their classmates, proving themselves correct, and maintaining their pride had become more important to them than resolving the matter previously was.

I wasn't even sure if he, himself, understood he'd swapped to a different goal.

Cutoff discussion, break train of thought, shift context.

“What's your name?” I asked, snapping my book shut and looking up at him.

The black-haired teen blinked, stiffening slightly as he met my gaze, a shiver racing up his spine that he pretended he didn't feel at the glint of the demon-snarl of my mouth-guard. “What?”

“Your name?” I asked again, leaning back in my chair slightly and realigning my body-language. Hunched over reading like that instinctively fed into the idea that I was covering a vulnerability and, therefore, weak enough to assert dominance over. By rearranging myself, I'd changed the entire script. “I'm Bootstrap, Licensed Hero working for the Endeavor Agency. My superior indicated that I was socially-maladjusted and requires me to be here to prove that I can positively interact with both my peer group and with the public at large.”

I could see the aggression in his stance catch on the sand I'd poured between its gears, grinding the entire process to a halt. He blinked again.

I dipped my head, and the sitting-bow jogged his cultural instincts. “Ah-right, I'm Kenzo Gumi. My quirk is Rubber Body. I absorb kinetic energy from strikes and throw it back at my opponents.”

“That reminds me of Fat Gum,” I stated with a nod. “You've got a strong quirk.”

His shoulders dipped a little at my observation and he crossed his arms in a defensive motion. “Everyone always says that, but I don't like being compared to him. Some guy who eats way too much and doesn't care that he presents himself as a huge blob while pretending to be a hero? That just isn't what I want to be.”

I frowned behind my mouth-guard.

Around us, in their distant orbits, the students in the classroom all seemed somewhat surprised that the object of their collective offense hadn't been verbally berated and humbled for his offense.

“Fat Gum is one of the best heroes you can be compared to, even if he's not quite in the top ten,” I told him bluntly. “He runs his own agency independently and has for several years now, he's active in charitable organizations providing food for the needy, and is genuinely happy to help people whenever and wherever he can. Being a hero is more than a job to him, it's a calling, and you should respect that.”

Gumi shook his head. “I just can't accept a guy who doesn't present the right image of what a hero should look like having a quirk that's so close to mine.”

My gaze swept over him again, briefly, taking in the freshly-starched look of his blazer, slacks, and even his tie, the flawless white of his undershirt, and the precision-cut of his gelled hair. I'd thought for a moment it'd been natural – because anime – but the scent of too-much hair care product had wafted towards me, indicating a deliberately-cultivated style that was, I believed, intentionally evocative of an anime protagonist.

“No matter what, a hero always has to be ready to represent what a hero truly is to everyone around them,” he continued, grinning a grin that looked more natural than it was, “that's the first duty of a hero: to make the people believe in them!”

I opened my mouth to reply, trying to resist the urge to go full sidereal on this child-

“A noble, if illogical aspiration,” the shaggy, disheveled hobo-worm stated as he pulled his upper body off the floor. “With an attitude like that, the only inspiration you'll be is a cautionary tale of someone who couldn't perform to the same degree their image promised.”

I could feel the instant disgust in Gumi upon seeing the pro hero that was to be our teacher. “Who are you?”

“I'm your homeroom teacher,” Eraserhead replied bluntly, unzipping the sleeping bag in a smooth motion. “Now get your gym uniforms on. We're going to have an assessment test to see if you belong here. Meet me outside on Field A as fast as you can.”

“What the-is this guy serious?”

Tough girl, again. The second, not the first. Silver-hair just looked aggravated.

“Is he really our teacher? I thought we were supposed to get heroes teaching us?”

Deer-girl, looking around for someone to tell her what to do.

“...did someone swipe my fucking blunt?”

A pink-haired rabbit heteromorph, blinking owlishly and appearing just to wake up from his daze.

“Yeah, I don't recognize him... is this some drunk janitor or something playing a joke on us?”

One of the bland kids – not that I didn't think they weren't a unique person unto themselves – but in a world of crazy mutant quirks and superpowers, a baseline human could be a bit nondescript.

“Hey, aren't we supposed to have an entrance ceremony? What's going on with this weirdo?”

A... person... I couldn't pin down a sex for this one, but they looked younger than me, irritated, with a shock of black hair and a digital screen mounted on their arm. Some kind of computer?

I stood up, “You want me in my gym uniform, Eraserhead? Or will my costume suffice?”

He barely spared me a glance, “If you think you can perform in that, then fine. Get going, I'll be timing you on how long it takes you to get ready.”

Then he was gone.

There was silence in the classroom as the various students looked at each other owlishly.

Then I started moving for the door, because obviously.

“Where are you going?” Gumi asked, making me pause and turn halfway to the door.

“Our teacher just told us to come down to the field for an assessment,” I stated, cocking my head oddly. “So I'm going down to the field.”

“That wasn't our teacher,” Gumi stated, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips in a way that I'd bet good money he'd copied from an anime protagonist or a super sentai performer. “That was obviously some member of the custodial staff. There's no way UA would employ someone who cares so little for how they present themselves as an educator! Think of the standard that sets!”

“Y-yeah, he's right!”

“We should go find a real teacher and report him!”

“I bet this was some kind of test or something! Maybe we get failed back to the gen ed class if we follow him!”

“Oooh~ like that scene in the Sidekick Studies anime! Dude, I love that show!”

I blinked, looking around at the class in mild disbelief.

...dawg, you serious right now? Like, fer realz?

“That was Eraserhead, he's a veteran underground hero,” I stated, raising my voice to ride herd over the entire class of twenty students. “He's a successful hero who's been employed by UA since he graduated. His status as a teacher at this school is a matter of public record and you can look up both those and interviews with the man.”

I could see a few wavering even as Gumi shook his head. “Then you do as you think is best, Bootstrap. I can't stop you from making this mistake, but I will compel you to use better judgment in the future so as to avoid the embarrassment you're about to suffer.”

Bruh.

How do you breathe?!

“That's your answer?” I asked, shaking my head at his firm expression. “Okay, look. You're all idiots and you deserve what's going to happen if you don't show up. Still, it's my duty as a hero to try and save you from yourselves. So I'm going to head down to meet our homeroom teacher. I don't care if you listen to my advice, but remember this if nothing else: Being a hero means you'll have no one to blame but yourselves, no one else's judgment to fall back on when you're in the field alone. Don't follow me or this guy because you can't make your own decision.”

My gaze bored into the students and I took some solace in the way several of them flinched from it. “Make your own decision, abide by it, and live with the consequences.”

Then I turned and walked out.

“Alright, everyone! We haven't elected a class president yet and I won't be assuming the role, but let's line up and make our way to the auditorium-”

As Gumi's voice trailed off into the distance, I shook my head and began moving for the field.

At this stage, my field of fucks was well and truly barren. I had none to give and could not be bothered to plant a new crop at the moment.

Part of me, admittedly, had always wondered exactly how bad a class had to be to in order for Eraserhead to actually fail them. Objectively speaking, passing the entrance exam wasn't an easy feat. If you had the skill, talent, or luck to pass that test, you had the potential to make a good enough hero. Not even UA guaranteed you a spot in the top fifty heroes, after all. Even the best hero school in Japan produced some kind of meh graduates who eventually dropped out of the career, but could leverage the UA name for a lateral move to other fields of employment.

Kaminari Denki, for instance. Call me biased, but I don't think he'd realistically amount to all that much in the long term. No shade on his quirk, it's just a question of motivation.

The point, though, was that I couldn't really imagine an entire class of people so dense, so stupid, so unmotivated as to completely fail out of Eraserhead's class. Even if someone treated his little test as a game, they'd still be motivated to beat each other at it, right? There was a fundamental spirit of competitiveness in people who got even this far in this fucking career. I doubted that the Aizawa we saw in the show would just drop the entire group of teenagers who'd actually put in the work to pass the entrance exam.

But I was man enough to admit I'd been proven wrong.

If anything would piss off the man who'd watched his best friend die in a glorified training accident turned villain attack, this was it. A bunch of self-righteous little shits who decided not even try because this was a school environment and they could whine to an adult instead of taking responsibility for their own decisions.

“Dear gods, I think I'm actually on Aizawa's side about this,” I muttered, shaking my head. “And I normally think these all-powerful teacher stunts are bullshit. Christ.”

In hindsight, I could have circumvented this entire fiasco, but... well, I didn't really think it was necessary to use my ability to read the near-future to manipulate my classmates into surviving their first day of school. And, really... it wasn't. Those kids needed an attitude adjustment. I still wasn't sure if this was the correct way to go about it, but... I wasn't the teacher here. This wasn't my responsibility.

That was my rationale behind my original strategy in the first place.

I had better – more important – things to do than actually participate in a social hierarchy.

I shook my head and kept walking, in short order finding myself standing in front of Aizawa.

Our mutual dead-eyed gaze bored into the others' across the ten feet between us.

“Good speech,” he commented idly, rolling his shoulders.

I blinked, then nodded. “Right, you've got the classroom bugged. Of course.”

He smirked. “Even with the least-impressive group of students I've received in the past few years, I'm not about to leave twenty volatile teenagers high on their own egos completely without supervision.”

I stared at the man for a long moment, then raised an eyebrow. “Learned that the hard way, didn't you?”

The man's dead-eyed stare intensified and I caught a glimpse of a memory. Aizawa himself, standing in this very field, watching in disbelief as the classroom he'd just left exploded with pressurized confetti. As quickly as it had come, though, it was gone. In the wake of the vision, I was deeply curious for the full story, but also knew that the answers to my questions would only draw me deeper into a circle of madness from which there was no escape.

Mental note, never consider becoming an educational professional in this world.

“The same way most lessons in this career are learned,” Eraserhead confirmed, then sighed deeply.

I looked over my shoulder. “Well, you'd know better than I would, sir. Anyone else coming?”

He made a show of looking at his watch. “They've got three minutes to get out here. After that, I'm expelling them either way.”

I shrugged, unwilling to make an issue of it. I'd done my part and tried to kick some sense into the idiots. I'd intended to be the insurmountable obstacle to inspire them, honestly. A bit like Todoroki Shoto had been in the original timeline. An intimidating, but not impossibly powerful ace who would set the bar for everyone else. It was just my bad luck and their short-sighted stubbornness that had flipped my strategy on its head. Instead of setting myself up as something to inspire during Aizawa's test, I'd made myself into an outsider who had virtually no influence on the class as a whole.

That would have changed if I'd been given a chance to demonstrate my skills, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

I had a thousand strategies to deal with anything that a class of teenagers could throw at me. The only thing I was unprepared for was them deciding to take their ball and go home.

“You don't seem very surprised,” Eraserhead commented, then elaborated after I made a questioning hum in the back of my throat. “That I'm going to expel your classmates if they don't show up. Most of my students are shocked when I tell them that's a possibility.”

“I work with Flame Snake,” I shrugged, as if that explained everything.

Aizawa snorted, looking simultaneously displeased and amused. “That little shit.”

“I mean, Endeavor did file a request for you to participate in quirkless CQC training,” I pointed out.

Aizawa rolled his eyes. “I'll think about it.”

Then, the heavy footfalls of a small cluster of teens was heard.

“Man, this better be the place,” a voice that sounded like its owner been born 'done with this shit' called out, and I turned. The figure who'd spoken was a lanky pink-haired teen with two large fluffy pink rabbit ears. The gym uniform was baggy on him, but I read an ample hidden strength in his frame.

“Dude, they're tight there, stop bitching,” the silver-haired girl from the class stated, sighing, “and stand downwind! You smell like a forest that went sour and I didn't even know that was a thing.”

“It's medicinal!” He shouted back.

“U-uh... please stop fighting?” The tall, statuesque blond girl with brown stone-like horns jutting from the sides of her head asked timidly. She was walking with a slight hunch, trying to minimize her impressive figure even as she adjusted her large glasses. “Can't we just be happy we found our way here? Sakae-chan was such a great help!”

The ghost-pale petite teen was the last of the group, trailing slightly behind due to their short stride. Even watching their gate, I couldn't entirely pick out a physical sex, getting indicators for both. They blushed and reached up to scratch at the shaggy black waist-length mop of black locks. “I-I just had a map of the school downloaded, it wasn't a big deal.”

Aizawa clicked his tongue and sighed before raising his voice. “Well, I guess five is better than one. Still, this means I can't go back to sleep. So I guess we might as well get this assessment over with.”

He reached down to his feet, where a basket full of baseballs was resting and selected one before tossing it to me. “Now, unlike the illogical curriculum of public schools, you'll be using your quirks on this assessment. First we'll be doing a ball throw...”

~~~

Hitoshi's first day of school! It's here! It's happening!

It's a lowkey disaster!

Is anyone really surprised?

Okay, I hope everyone has fun with this chapter. Next update that's going to be out will be Butler Boy. Also, I'll have the Awesome Tier poll up tomorrow night. I wanted to hurry and get this chapter done before anything else.

Nexus Event - Chapter 18

I hummed thoughtfully at the magical newspaper.

“Anything interesting?” Sara asked, typing away at her laptop.

“Wizarding World losing its shit over Sirius,” I commented. “How're those subcutaneous tracker on the rat?”

“I've got it cued to set off an alarm if he steps so much as a single paw outside the holding area, much less the ministry building as a whole,” Sara chuckled darkly. “And I have the shock implants set to go off shortly after that unless they get the okay from my console. I still find it hard to believe Sirius didn't end up killing the bastard.”

“Price was too high,” I replied with a hum. “Just means I'll have to pick up that little shite Barty Crouch Jr.”

I sighed heavily, having wanted to avoid that one, but Sirius had decided against playing the part of the secret agent.

“You? You mean Cassandra, I hope.” Sara stated, a hint of chastisement in her tone.

“Right, right,” I grumbled, fidgeting in the cushions of the sofa. “I forgot that being the centerpiece of the plan meant that I'm not even allowed to collect an enthralled puppet and disable his house-elf keeper. Silly me.”

“If you wanted to do things yourself, you shouldn't have picked up a hypercompetent harem of beautiful women.” Sara snorted. “You're lucky we let you go talk to the President as it is.”

I rumbled irritably in the back of my throat, but didn't disagree. As much as I didn't want to see it happen, the plan could survive the deaths of any of the girls – or god forbid all of them – but not me. If I died, shit was fucked.

So the Batman in the back of my head sat, fuming, as things were done for me.

“You're also needed here for when the shipment comes,” Sara reminded me.

“I'm really not,” I sighed. “I've already signed the receipts and you and Sam know what to look for.”

“But you have to talk to Tanya,” Sara stated firmly.

“Oh, right, because you'll provoke a cat-fight.” I hummed. “Sorry, forgot about that.”

“I will not-” My sister paused, her voice rising as she turned to look at me from her screen. I met her gaze, allowing the newspaper to droop in my hands so that I could raise a single eyebrow.

A moment of silent challenge passed between us.

“So, how long until you fuck Cass?” Sara asked.

“Your attempt to change subjects is transparent and obvious,” I replied dully, flipping the page of my paper. “But the answer is – when she's ready.”

“You do understand the only one thirstier than her is Willow, right?” Sara asked plainly, shaking her head as she turned back to her work. “And, by the way, I know you've been letting the little redheaded sociopath suck you off.”

“Willow isn't sociopathic,” I stated sternly. “She's traumatized. There's a difference.”

“Not to the people she's killed,” my sister riposted quickly.

I grunted because – yeah, true that. “There's a difference in how we should treat her, lest we aggravate her condition and indirectly incite more violence on her part. How about that?”

Sara blew out a quick puff of air through her lips, the noise fast and dismissive. “Sure, alright. You going to comment on her blowing you?”

“You going to comment on your lack of commenting?” I asked in reply. “Since I've been having her do it here, where I know you have all your little eyes and ears.”

“Are you accusing me of passive-aggressively hoarding information to verbally strike at a weak point when I needed to distract you or score points?” Sara asked saccharine-sweetly.

“Hardly,” I snorted. “I'm stating that you're a voyeur.”

There was another long pause as I finished the section I was reading and folded the paper up. I'd hand it off to one of the other girls when they showed up. The novelty of magical newspapers was still strong enough that they enjoyed looking through them.

“Okay, how'd you figure that out?” Sara asked, her shoulders losing their tension suddenly as she realized I wasn't simply guessing.

“You set the maidroids to clean the couch cushions and the sheets at intervals that didn't make sense unless they were getting a lot dirtier than normal activities counted for,” I stated, rising up and marching over to the back of Sara's chair.

I leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck, pressing my smirk against the hot flush creeping down to her chest.

“I hate you so much right now,” Sara groused lowly.

“You love me,” I confirmed, “and I love my adorable little sister who now has a voyeurism fetish, even if she won't admit it.”

Sara's only response was a groan-whine as she batted at me in embarrassment.

I backed away, chuckling, letting her fume impotently.

Let's see... Sam was down in the engineering now, busying herself with the potential hardware upgrades and side-grades for the 90's American military. I didn't want to interrupt her until the resupply. Illyana was down there with her, blowing things up under annoyingly controlled conditions. Cass was out running around doing fun stuff. Kitty was hanging out with her, getting some lessons in Bat-ness to broaden her skill set.

Which, frankly, was vaguely terrifying.

A Bat-trained stealth specialist who could phase through matter?

Well, I was just glad she was on my side.

That left Willow and Pepper, who were both working from home for the next few days. Pepper was primarily prepping the various press releases we'd need in a month or so. Many of them had to be specifically-tailored to their respective magical and mundane communities, to say nothing of their linguistic ones. At bare minimum, we'd need to prepare magical and non-magical versions for English, Spanish, French, German, Italian, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Russian, Hindi, and Vietnamese.

Normally, I'd pass on specifically informing the Vietnamese, but I was banking on them turning their entire country into a deathtrap once the Chinese military inevitably got crushed.

I mean... I had no doubt they'd probably take out at least one Demon Prince before they started fragmenting, but their military was built on the soviet model. The only thing they were really good at was massed charges and throwing ordinance at problems. What was worse, their regime was ideologically-hidebound and thus unwilling to listen to advice on the matter of tactics, strategy, or logistics.

Oh, and they had an institutional disbelief of the supernatural.

Needless to say, but the Pepper-Sam-Sara 'thinktank' didn't have good projections on how long China would last as a coherent nation, even if they allowed significant western support.

“News is breaking that Japan is putting forth a motion to amend their constitution,” Sara stated suddenly.

“Bush pulled through, then,” I commented approvingly. “They – we – will need the area as a staging ground. I'll need to contact Pepper and check in on how the purchase of Hashima Island is going. Hopefully we can sneak that past with all the hullabaloo.”

“I seriously can't believe you just used that word unironically,” Sara sighed, shaking her head. “Anyway, it'd be a good time to do it, certainly. Protests are already forming and its only been a few hours. I have to admit, it's odd seeing Japan so peaceful in this world.”

“If memory serves, the last time they had significant widespread civil unrest was during the pro-communist protests of the sixties,” I stated authoritatively.

“Of course you'd know that,” Sara muttered.

“How about the Australia properties? That close yet?” I asked, curious.

“Right before Harriet's birthday party, last week,” Sara confirmed. “Honestly, it's basically a wasteland. They were happy to part with it. Apparently it was only good for driving cattle through and they'd bought it to make sure no one would ever fence the area. So when their ranching business went belly-up...”

“Well, at least that part was easy,” I muttered. “The next part, though...”

“Columbia, right?” Sara asked, her voice... worryingly blank.

“How did you-” I paused, then grimaced. “Right.”

“You might have done the research to find those serial killers, but it isn't as though I could have reasonably avoided seeing them,” she replied. “I am your right-hand woman, after all.”

“You disapprove, then,” I observed.

“Whether I approve or not doesn't really matter,” she stated, her fingers typing away at the keys... and pressing slightly harder than strictly necessary.

I sighed. “There aren't all that many good alternatives in the long run.”

“And in the short run you'll be employing mercenary companies, disabled veterans, and wrongfully-convicted criminals in the meantime,” Sara stated, her voice tired. “They'll be the front-line combatants for the first waves, so I don't have room to complain. Anyone you pick up will be past the age of majority by the time they see combat.”

Sara paused meaningfully.

“Unlike the wards,” she eventually concluded.

“It isn't something I approve of, either, you know?” I hummed, occupying my gaze with the various trinkets and treasures accrued by the Bat Family. “Bruce – Batman – had his justifications for sending children into mortal peril. Charles Xavier did as well. The wizarding world does, too, because it needs them with how dangerous magic is... but, when you look at the alternative.”

“We're entering combat against an existential threat,” Sara nodded, finally looking at me. “You're not acting like those assholes from the Catholic Church, Solomon. This isn't really a choice for us. We use who and what we have or everyone dies.”

“And this will objectively be making their lives better, likely longer for most of them, and that's fucking disgusting to confront the truth of and I hate it,” I growled out in a lengthy rant.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to relax.

It was a tug-of-war I'd had with my conscience for weeks, ever since devising the coming step in the plan. There were a lot of places around the world that had discarded children. I had a desperate need for manpower in the coming decades. It was easy, appalling, grotesque math and it sickened my soul every time I thought about it.

Thankfully, a distraction manifested itself in the form of an alarm on the monitor.

“You up for this?” Sara asked plainly.

I sank into the meditative cool and level attitude stored in the back of my mind, then nodded. “Put her on.”

Sara tapped a key and Tanya's face appeared on the screen.

“I got you the Bubblegum Crisis hardsuits,” she stated, dispensing entirely with the pleasantries, “I wasn't able to snag a Valkyrie fighter, sadly. The push-back on that leads me to believe there's pressure and ulterior motives behind it, but my hands are tied as far as investigations go right now.”

“They probably know that,” I nodded.

Tanya scowled, but nodded as well. “In all likelihood, yes. Given how I'm focusing our efforts on figuring out who killed all of those Agents? They rightfully feel like they can get away with a great deal while we're otherwise occupied.”

I narrowed my gaze at her body language and word choice.

“If that's the case, then we'll need to be on the lookout for someone smuggling things into the world,” I observed pointedly. “We don't want to have to deal with any more complications than we already are.”

“It's a valid concern,” Tanya hummed, her eyes locked on mine. “Anyone with the right kind of technology and know-how could sneak anything onto your world... provided they had the relevant maps of the eddies and gyres formed by all these dimensional gates opening, at least.”

Like the ones you have?

I didn't ask the question, though, already knowing the answer. “Well, that's a relief, at least. The Demon Princes running the Death March likely don't have the kind of equipment necessary to pull those stunts.”

“No, they don't,” Tanya shook her head, “but other parties do. I'd be on the lookout for anything out-of-context popping up.”

I chose to interpret that warning as the double-edged sword it was as I placed a hand on Sara's shoulder to stop her from vibrating out of her seat with the, 'I have a secret,' energy pent up in her small form.

“And the aura user?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Tanya paused, then dipped her head a fraction. “We got one. She's from Company Stock. I called in a favor or two and sent her through Processing. Loyalty implants, nothing past that.”

I frowned deeply at that. “If you've read my file, you know how opposed I am to that sort of thing being done unwillingly.”

“Which is why it wasn't,” Tanya countered.

I blinked and Sara stared, unnerved. “Someone volunteered for processing?”

I'd read up on that shit. The Agency was at least decent enough to softball modifications like that. The Company? You were either functional or they'd make you functional. And the latter process was as invasive as they felt it needed to be.

“She got blacklisted,” Tanya explained. “Screwed up several missions, got her Contractors killed, she's generally a problem. It was either volunteer to have parts of her rewritten or find herself processed out in an entirely different way. One she wouldn't survive.”

...and I'd just gotten finished lamenting on necessary evils, too. Ah, well... I shouldn't waste more time bitching about things I can't change. It is what it is.

“And she's not going to fuck things up here?” I asked, cursing for effect with a raised eyebrow.

“You have an entire group of highly-capable specialists with generalized support skills in overlapping areas of competence,” Tanya replied dryly. “If you absolutely must, have her sit in a corner with a box of crayons. That way the worst she's capable of is doodling on the walls.”

I hummed, considering the ultimatum.

“Look, you wanted someone capable of awakening aura,” Tanya pressed on, her tone less confrontational. “I got you that, at significant personal difficulty, I might add. Aura-users are in high demand, it's either this or nothing.”

“Alright,” I sighed, “as long as it's not Raven Branwen, I can deal with her.”

I'd desperately wanted someone with Remnant Aura for the team, but been unable to pick up a contract from The Agency. Aura was one of the few low-hanging fruit powers that could be easily duplicated and spread to others without the need for advanced technology or special requirements. Ultimately, if the price for acquiring it was to accept some dead weight on the team that I would need to bench outside of absolute emergencies, I could do that.

“It's not,” Tanya promised, poking something on her control panel. “I'll need your countersign to accept the delivery.”

“Here you are,” I stepped up to the Bat-computer and hit a few keys as well.

“Best of luck to you,” Tanya stated after an awkward moment. “This will likely be our last communication for some time. Years, possibly. The interdimensional turbulence is getting worse, as expected. Good hunting, Agent.”

“Thank you,” I nodded, then the screen cut off.

“So...” Sara drawled awkwardly, “Let's see what she sent us?”

I hummed thoughtfully and nodded, leading us down to the teleportation bay. Hitting the device on my wrist, I spoke into it, “Illyana – Sam, our resupply just showed up.”

“Back to Cass now,” Sara began, smirking.

I sighed again as we entered the elevator.

Thankfully, it was a quick trip down, though not fast enough to beat Sam and Illyana. The engineering area was just closer, making for easy trips in and out in the name of being able to teleport some of the larger vehicles.

“I didn't think she'd send them in crates,” Sara stated as we walked in to find the two blonds breaking the seals on the large metal containers. “Maybe a security measure?”

“Maybe,” Sam grunted, Illya beginning to lose patience and simply slicing through the chains-

Or trying to.

“Sonnuva-” The mutant cursed, looking between the magical blade of energy and the long chains tied around the crates.

“Stop,” I stated, calling them both back. Stepping up and examining them, I tapped the large crate. “Hmm... this isn't steel, not tungsten or anything mundane...”

Illyana blinked, then breathed in sharply, her eyes going wide as she moved up next to me and studied the chains and boxes again. “This is adamantium. I've seen it before. It was rare in limbo – it's rare everywhere – but I once had a sword commissioned from it.”

I chuckled as the truth set in. “She sent us our resupplies in metal crates tied up with chains that are all made out of adamantium. Okay, that's pretty slick.”

“I'm guessing one of those fictional miracle metals?” Sara asked.

“You'd guess right,” Sam snorted, shaking her head. “Jack would be losing his shit right now if he could see this, probably make a joke about coating someone's skeleton in it. Depending on the thickness and our ability to work it, this could be a substantial boon.”

“Let's see what's actually inside it, shall we?” I asked, approaching the lock itself and pressing my thumb to it. I felt the device draw off a measure of my magical energy as a secondary identification before popping free and allowing us to move the chains.

I handed the lock to Sam, who took it with a curious expression.

“That's an electronic lock. It's not urgent, but there's potential that it could have other data piggybacking in its databanks,” I nodded, and her eyes widened as she tucked it away.

“Right, right... I was never all that good at playing spy games,” Sam stated, quirking a lip and stepping out of the way for Illyana and I to open the door...

And, as a result, not getting caught in the rush of loose crumpled-up paper that flowed out like an avalanche from within. As things settled, I could just see the head of the first two hardsuits standing upright within the crate.

“Packing paper? Really?” Sara asked, almost rolling her eyes before picking up a single sheet and examining it. “Let's see...”

“-fusion reactors should be tuned to parallel capacity in the event of fluctuations in the thrusters. To diagnose the problem, put systems into STALL mode and attach supply cables to-” Sara shook her head and handed the page to Sam. “I'm just guessing, but this is probably the manual to that fighter Solomon wanted.”

Illyana and I shared a smile as we looked through the pages.

“Not it, by the way,” Sara stated, holding up her hands.

“Not it,” Illyana and Sam echoed quickly.

“Pepper and Willow can do it,” I stated bluntly, then paused. “No, wait. I'm being stupid.”

I reached into the holster tucked into my forearm and plucked my wand out. “Now, let's see... Ordino Turbamentum.”

The papers immediately began to move in a fluttering whirlwind, pulling themselves out of the metal crate and quickly stacking themselves into six separate stacks. Even the front and back covers were in place. I shrugged and cast the reparo charm on them, the bindings knitting themselves back together as the creases smoothed out. Normally, I don't think the charm was supposed to go that far, but... well, The Agency's advantages were useless if they didn't do anything.

“Looks like we've got... construction and maintenance manuals for the VF-1 Valkyrie Variable Aerospace Fighter,” Sam read aloud, her smile growing as she picked all six thick books up and stacked them off to the side.

“The armored suits look good, too,” Illyana observed, stepping into the crate and looking them over. “We've got six, total... and it looks like they have computer stuff inside of them. Hard drives, I think?”

“Ooooh~” Sara grinned, moving forward. “Lemme see!”

“It's probably more engineering data,” Sam noted, a bounce in her step.

“Could be intelligence on the enemy,” Sara hummed, pulling the drives from within the suits.

I ignored the back and forth between Sam and my sister, nodding at Illyana and moving towards the back of the large enclosure where a number of smaller boxes stood, each with the adamantine sheen readily apparent on them now that I knew what to look for. But, those aside, my focus was on the cryo capsule and its sole inhabitant.

“New teammate?” Illyana asked, looking into the clear pseudo-glass front plate. “Doesn't look like much.”

“No, she doesn't,” I nodded, “but do any of us actually appear all that threatening?”

The blond sorceress paused, then nodded. “Point.”

I kept my true opinions to myself. I'd wanted an aura user and that's what I'd gotten. She was short, petite really, with a build that was slim even for her size. In her silent repose, she looked peaceful, which I had to admit was strange to see on that face. Her head, though, was topped by the familiar dual-shock of dark brown on her left side and bright pink tresses on the right. A single strand of white cut through the pink, drifting down to cut her face in twain and hide eyes that I knew to be heterochromatic should they open.

Or, if one were to use the proper terminology, her hair looked like a classic type of strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla ice cream paired together.

I was somewhat surprised that the little chaos gremlin had chosen enforced servitude rather than nonexistence, but I suppose that faced with the existential certainty of obliteration most people would be intimidated enough to accept a blow to their independence.

Then, as I was contemplating exactly how to approach waking Neo up, the alarms went off.

All of the alarms.

“What's going on!?” Illyana shouted out the awful din of sirens blaring.

“One of the fucking wormholes is opening!” Sara replied, reaching for her communicator and shutting the noise off. “That wasn't supposed to happen for another month!”

“Where's it hitting?” I asked, then shook my head. “Illyana, gate us to the main computer.”

She nodded and popped a portal open, all four of us streaming through to the other side and Sara diving for her chair. “Shit-shit-shit... fuck! England! It's the one from the Saderan Empire!”

“Why's it opening so soon?” Sam asked, leaning over to look at one of the screens and parsing the complex calculations. “Wait, it was the resupply! It changed the portal's vector!”

I cursed, “How long have we got?”

“Hours,” Sara winced.

I took a deep breath, momentarily calculating the possibility of enemy action, then disregarding it. It didn't matter at the moment, not immediately anyway. “Call everyone in. Make whatever excuses you need to. Get Pepper on the phone with the American government. Sam, you're up for the British. Start making calls. Exact location, Sara?”

My sister stared at the screen, her eyes unblinking. When she spoke after a moment's hesitation, it was with a combination of dread and anger that, I could tell, belonged uniquely to Sara Pendragon and not the girl she'd once been in another life.

“Colchester, Essex,” she stated.

I stilled, shock overwhelming me for a moment.

“Colchester?” Sam asked, looking between us. “What's there?”

“Camulodunon,” I informed her. “When the Normands crossed the channel, the early French language corrupted the name into something you'd be more familiar with.”

“Camelot,” Sara stated. “It's the site of the ancient castle-town of Camelot.”

“...while I understand the burden of legacy,” Illyana stated slowly, frowning. “What does it matter here and now?”

“When the surrounding mundane lords burned the town down during the final war to wipe the kingdom out,” I explained, “something as normal as fire couldn't destroy a castle enchanted by Merlin himself.”

Another long moment of silence.

“I'll inform Father,” I stated, turning back to Sara. “Contact the castellan and tell him to rally his forces.”

“Wait... you mean we're deploying out of Castle Camelot?” Sam asked in disbelief.

~~~

Admittedly, I took a day off, so this is a day late.

But here it is, a return to Nexus Event.

And things are happening!

So, next up is Mind Games. As per the demands of the poll. Mind Games won handidly this time around, with Butler Boy coming in a hard second. So look forward to that!

October Favoritism!

Most of you know what's going on by now, but here's the deal...

Your choices for what I focus on for October are below. Pick whichever one you like most, the project with the most votes wins. Second-most gets second-most attention, third gets third and so on. I usually have a pretty good track record abiding by the results. Last month had Butler Boy go head-to-head with long time champ Mind Games and almost dethrone the king. Not sure what'll happen this time around, but it'll be fun to see.

Now, October is spooky season, and I do love spooky season, so I might try and sneak in a one-shot horror/scary story type thing.

Other than that, though, I look forward to another great month of writing.

Thank you all for your support and patience as I get things moving again for October.

As a last note, I think I'm going to try and get out a chapter of Nexus Event for this weekend while the polls are running.

The Hand We're Dealt - Chapter 13

The green-haired girl skidded to a stop in front of me, her red eyes going wide in the dim light.

She was panting and her clothes were tattered and torn despite being of likely-decent quality once upon a time. What was left of her pants were riddled with holes, which couldn't have been that comfortable in the cool night air. Neither could the long tunic she was wearing, which had had its sleeves torn off. Her boots, at least, looked to be mostly in one piece, even if they were coated in a thick layer of mud, lesser stains of the same substance splattering her other clothes and exposed skin as well.

Her eyes, though…

They were those of a cornered animal, quickly taking an assessment of myself and Hector as we blocked her path and trying to decide if she should cut into the woods or try to push past us.

“That's as far as you go, brat,” the lead man called, stopping roughly ten feet behind her as the two men with him stepped out to the sides to block her. All three were huffing heavily with exertion. “You'll be going back where you belong.”

All three were clad in long coats, riding leathers, wide-brim hats, and had firearms and knives at their waists. Even if pistols of the day weren't all that threatening to someone who knew what was to come in just a few short decades, a lucky shot would still do the job just as well as a futuristic frangible round with an armor-piercing tip.

“Gentlemen! Come now, I'm sure whatever the girl's done it can't be worth all of this-” Hector stated, spreading his arms wide and smiling broadly as he stepped forward.

The girl twitched at his approach, taking a quarter-step back before freezing as she remembered what lay behind her.

“Shut it, gigglemug,” the lead thug snarled, his hand going for his knife and flicking it out. “We've chased this little shite across too much land and burned too much time to let some fop like you get between us and our rightful pay.”

I frowned as the gang each took a half-step forward, the postures of predators attempting to see if their prey would run.

“How much?” I asked, looking from between the girl to the men chasing her, catching their attention again.

“What's that, runt?” One of the tagalongs asked.

“How much?” I repeated, reaching for my pocket and the expanded coin purse within it. I couldn't manage anything wild like what I'd read of in various books in my first life, but I could make the leather pouch three times as large as it should have been, weigh far less than that size would indicate, and electrocute any unlucky pickpocket who tried to grab it. “You're tracking her down for coin, you said. How much for you to say she fell into a river and didn't come out? That way you save yourselves the trouble of dragging a maltempered child back that long distance.”

The three men blinked at that, looking Hector and I over as the girl-

Emerald, my memory whispered.

-took the opportunity to continue to catch her breath. Though, with the way her legs were shaking with adrenaline, I doubted she'd make it much further in the dark and uneven terrain. Although, she might surprise me given how far she'd already come if her pursuers were telling the truth.

Lead thug huffed, amused. “Even if you had the coin, chum, couldn't do it. Love to, as it'd make my life easier, but her pa wants her back something awful. And he's not the kind of man I wanna' make angry.”

I hummed in response, considering the answer.

On the one hand, that changed the situation somewhat.

I'd been thinking this was the pursuit of an escaped slave. Slavery was still legal in New Hampshire, sadly, but Vermont was just across the river. If this was a simple case of 'escaped property,' the solution would be to get her to a state where things weren't so cut and dry. Vermont had, thankfully, written the abolishment of slavery into their constitution upon declaration of statehood. It was unlikely that the chase would end there, but the laws would potentially create a snarl in their pursuit.

But, if the girl wasn't a slave...

I don't know that. Her father could be a plantation owner and simply want to keep an embarrassing dalliance under wraps.

Another unfortunate interpretation in line with the times.

“That begs the question of why a girl would run from her father... and why a father would have her pursued over such a great distance,” Hector stated, his tone unsettled.

I flashed back to the discussion Hector and I had just had about his own family.

The subject would be raw for him, one member of a family imposing their will on another.

“I don't get paid to ask questions, city boy,” the thug spat off to the side, “now you gonna' geet or we gonna' have to move ya?”

“That's enough of that,” I stated, making my decision as took a step forward and nodded reassuringly towards the girl. Then I turned back to the men, shifted the document case in my arms, and focused my magic into my eyes. “Go to sleep.”

The men stared at me for a second, then bristled, their eyes going wide.

One of them snatched his gun from its holster and pointed it at me. “He's on of 'em, Unc! Just like the Voodoo Man! You stay back, demon! I got silver shot in this here gun!”

Idly, I fingered one of the rings on my fingers, activating it even as the situation became much more complicated.

“Look,” the lead thug stated, licking his lips and very clearly reassessing me in light of the new information. “We don't want no trouble. We're here for the girl. Jus' let us take 'er and we'll be gone, yeah?”

“You're not taking the girl,” I stated clearly, my senses combing over the men and finding... just the faintest glimmer of power on them. It wasn't much, perhaps just a charm or two, likely what had kept my hypnotism from being effective.

Which made sense, if they were after the daughter of a practitioner.

Without those, she could have simply looked them in the eye and told them to forget she ever existed, magical hypnosis being one of the most basic tricks someone could do. It was also one of the most common ways for magical children to defend themselves.

Or so my master had informed me, at least.

“I may be young, but you'll find I'm quite capable,” I stated firmly, my pulse pounding in my ears as my heartbeat sped up.

“It's either face you down here and now or face down the Voodoo Man without his daughter,” the lead thug stated, passing his knife to his other hand and drawing his gun slowly. “And I figure I've got better odds 'sidering the devil I know and what he'll do ta'me.”

That declaration hung in the air for a long moment, and I nodded. “Shame.”

Then their necks snapped as their heads spun a hundred and eight degrees.

One of the guns went off, but only managed to injure an innocent tree off the path, the sound ringing out loud in the air as the bodies toppled over.

“Jesus,” Hector swore, heaving a deep breath and removing a handkerchief to mop at the nervous sweat on his forehead. “Warn a guy, Henry, I damn near soiled myself.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Sorry. But I guess soiled trousers are better than new holes in your body. Remind me to make you something to protect yourself.”

“More than what I've already got?” He asked, chuckling. “The ladies in New York think I'm a tad superstitious with the charms I wear already.”

“What I gave you won't do dick all against a bullet,” I shook my head, then turned to the girl. “You wanna run, you can run. You want help, I'll help. Your choice.”

Red eyes stared at me for a long moment, her gaze flickering between me and the downed men.

“Jus' like that?” She asked, a trace of disbelief in the faint French-accented English falling from her lips.

“I didn't kill a bunch of men who were going to force you to do what they want... in order to make you do what I want, instead,” I shrugged.

She bit her bottom lip and looked around us, her gaze still harried. “He'll send more. Or come hisself. I should go.”

“Will he come tomorrow?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I stepped past her, giving the girl a wide birth and pulling my own handkerchief free as I began poking and prodding at the corpses for their magic charms. “Or in a fortnight?”

She made an unhappy noise. “Unless Pere is right angry, he'll need time. If his blood is hot, less than a fortnight.”

So he has some form of fast-travel. That's not all that common in voodoo from what I know.

“Henry and Old Dutch will keep you safe,” Hector stated confidently.

I shot the other man a glare. “Henry...”

“What? Going to tell her differently?” He asked, a bit of his cocky confidence coming back.

I sighed and shook my head. “Don't make promises for my master.” I narrowed my gaze and focused on what was turning up from their pockets. They were simple things, made of animal parts, things I would expect from the voodoo school of magic. My mentor would simply call it witchcraft, of course, but there were-

I paused as the lead thug's necklace came free.

It was an elaborate construction of whittled and carved bone tied together with dried sinew and painted with something like tar. I held it carefully, making sure none of my flesh came into contact with the thing. Even wearing gloves, an extra layer of protection between me and... whatever this was, was welcome.

My sense probed it carefully, and I felt dark threads trailing off to the south.

After a moment's hesitation, I pulled one of their hats off and began dumping items of value into it, the magic trinkets at the bottom and insulated by the other material.

“They got anything nice?” Hector asked, his tone making it clear he disapproved of looting the corpses.

“I don't want to leave anything identifying or magical for someone to stumble on,” I replied bluntly. “The longer it takes for someone to figure out who they were, the less likely they are to remember the girl they were looking for when they wound up dead.”

Hector grunted from behind me, the sound indicating he still didn't like it, but wasn't going to contest my point.

“You've got a master? No, of course you do,” the third member of our group asked, then muttered to herself in recrimination. “He'll take me in? Keep Pere from taking me back?”

I hummed thoughtfully, estimating my mentor's anger over this mess I'd kicked up. On the one hand, he wouldn't be happy. He'd be sincerely unhappy, in fact. I was making an aggravation for him to deal with, especially if this 'Voodoo Man' decided to pay us a visit. On the other hand, though... if the girl's father was cut from that cloth, it almost certainly meant he was black, himself. Looking at her now... I'd wager her mother was mixed-race or possibly even fully white.

Professor van Beek was many things, but no one would ever accuse him of egalitarian views.

And being a practitioner of voodoo wouldn't do him any favors in my master's eyes, either. I couldn't be sure van Beek knew of it, but if he did... well, it was a blend of African paganism and Catholicism, ranking it below even the corrupted Irish Papistry in the old man's eyes. Moreover, he had strict ideas about religion and magic and where the line between the two of them belonged.

He was a man of God, after all, even while remaining a man of magic.

“I'll have to convince him,” I eventually stated with a sigh. “Now let's-”

Something snapped in the forest and I stiffened, going for another one of my rings. I'd already burned the charge for the kinetic force ring, now I'd need to resort to one of the elementals-

I'd need something reusable in the future.

Something that isn't a battery, but a conduit. A spell that can be cast again and again, the focus of which won't burn out, but that would require...

“Who goes there?” Hector asked loudly, turning and grabbing for his own knife. “I warn you, I'm armed.”

“I mean no offense.” There was a shuffle in the darkness and a man carrying a heavy sack stepped out of the forest. His eyes traced over the fallen bodies and, widening, locked onto me. “Y-young Bell, is that you?”

I narrowed my gaze against the growing dark, the moon coming up high.

Our eyes met, mine likely glowing faintly with the potency of the ointment I'd put on before leaving for the party. His, though... a normal person might not be able to make it out in this light, but the whites of his eyes were black.

I made a snap decision, the second one of the night.

Use one problem to solve another.

“Mr. Laffer,” I stated, rising from my crouch. “Fancy meeting you here this late evening. You're well?”

I could see Emerald tense out of the corner of my eye.

The man paused, staring at me in unnatural stillness, then nodded. “Aye, just a little hunting. I see you've got yourself into a spot of trouble.”

I suppose I'll decline to point out your lack of a gun, bow, or net.

I also wasn't going to point out the way his hands were caked with mud or that there wasn't any deep forest to hunt in given the direction he'd come from.

“Bandits,” I stated clearly, nodding to the girl next to us. “They were going to accost this young woman. Hector and I took issue with that.”

Nathan Laffer's jaw worked for a moment before he nodded. “Want me to get someone from the town, then?”

“I was hoping to keep things quiet,” I stated, pulling out the small purses I'd taken from the men and holding them up. “How about picking up some coin? You've got a family to feed, don't you sir?”

The man stilled again and I fingered the ring of fire on my off-hand.

“I do,” he stated at length, looking between the purses and the bodies. “That's evil work, though, Henry.”

“It was evil work they were doing and evil work that we did to them,” I replied bluntly. “You do some of that yourself, the way I figure... that means Hector and I don't need to worry about you saying anything, and we'd damn ourselves if we said anything about you. Keeps things nice and neat, don't you say?”

I ignored Hector's curious gaze and the girl's anxious posture.

“I suppose...” Nathan stated slowly, then nodded. “My boy's gonna' need new shoes soon. And it'd be nice to afford something for my wife.”

I dropped the coin purses and took a step away. “I'll leave you to it, then. Good night for a stroll. Shame we never met tonight.”

Nathan snorted, then nodded. “Off you go, I'll take care of things.”

I turned to Hector and nodded. “We're leaving. You too, if you want a bed tonight.”

The greenette sent one last wary look at Laffer as he waited for us to move, then nodded and followed me. Hector, on the other hand, looked between us and lingered. “Just like that, Henry... what if-”

“Now, Hector,” I stated firmly, jerking my head and moving forward. “We've no business being out any further this night.”

Finally, my friend's footsteps followed us with a muffled curse.

We got a hundred feet away before Hector planted his feet and looked back the way we'd come, “Okay, what was that?”

Emerald looked between the two of us before settling on me. “He does not know​?!”

“I don't know your name!” Hector replied hotly.

The girl blushed, her cheeks coloring almost to match her eyes in the dim light. “Mo chagren – that is, I am – how you say? Sorry? My name is Emerald. But you did not know what that was?”

“Mr. Laffer?” Hector looked between us cluelessly. “What am I missing?”

“You're missing that we're going to keep walking,” I stated firmly, then picked up a piece of wood and set it aflame with a muttered incantation, creating an improvised torch. “Nice to meet you, Emerald. I'm Henry and this is Hector.”

“Alright, alright, but make with the explanations already,” Hector muttered.

“The explanation is that the person we just encountered is a ghoul,” I stated, my tone low and serious.

“A ghoul?” Hector asked, frowning. “Like a vampire?”

“No, the vampire can be reasoned with,” Emerald shook her head, her eyes still a bit wide. “Ghouls cannot. They are animals that look like humans. They devour the flesh of men.”

“They're obligate carnivores,” I replied bluntly. “They can't eat plant matter at all, and while they can subsist on animal blood in emergencies, they'll slowly go mad with hunger if they don't eat human flesh.”

“So, those bodies...” Hector asked slowly, his face looking sick.

“Are no longer our problem,” I replied firmly. “Neither is Mr. Laffer. Unless he comes to harm me or mine, my business with the man is concluded.”

“That's not-” Hector began, then cut himself off. “It's not right, letting a monster like that live in town. We should-”

“Your friend is not of our world,” Emerald observed with a frown.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asked, scowling at the girl.

“It means you don't meddle in things that are not your business to meddle in,” I replied. “Mr. Laffer has a wife and three children. They're also ghouls in all likelihood. Are you planning to put the entire family to the torch?”

Hector was silent for a moment as he contemplated that. “Wouldn't it be a kindness? Not to force a life like that upon a child?”

“And how do you plan to do this thing?” Emerald asked, frowning at him. “Ghouls are very strong, very fast, and take much to put down. Who will aid you? Or will you simply volunteer yourself for their next meal?”

Hector grimaced and looked away, clearly pondering his options.

“Leave it alone, Hector.” I advised him strongly. “No one in town has gone missing recently. Laffer is likely preying on bandits and vagrants to feed himself and his children. He might even be eating vampires or werewolves. Don't judge the man because of what his nature forces him to eat.”

“...fine,” Hector grunted. “I'll drop it. I'm leaving for New York again in a few days, anyway, and you know this stuff better than I do, anyway. Just watch yourself, Henry.”

“I always do,” I promised, though my mind was elsewhere.

Danger had found me again, it seemed. While the devils that had appeared were... well, not harmless, but didn't actively intend danger or threat. And my rings, while a nice stopgap, only had a certain number of uses to them before I needed to recharge them.

...yes, I'd built them by mimicking Harry Dresden's stuff, but that didn't exist yet so no one could sue me.

I needed... something reusable. What had I been thinking about?

Not something that stored energy, no. Enchanted items only had a certain amount of 'space' to program things in. Trying to put too much into any given item usually ended badly. Explosively badly. No, no energy storage, that limited the versatility. Or... could I store energy in the spell design itself?

That was... hmm... if the spell already had power built into it and a loose design overlaid with it...

Could I make a spell that cast itself?

Well, could I do that and not have it go rogue and try to kill me? A spell that produced flame would only know how to burn, after all. A spell that created water would flood. Maybe have it be modal? An active state and a dormant state?

That was... possible?

But big. Really big.

Like... actual 'grand magical working' big. That shit needed balance and structure and intricate design. In fact, that was probably better. If I made an entire set, I could use the elemental variances to counterbalance each other! Light and dark binary balance? Or the classic platonic set? I could also go with an oriental variation and use wood/metal instead...

“-and what's this, then?” The voice of Professor van Beek asked, slightly slurred, drawing me out of my ponderings.

I blinked, then gestured to the girl cowering behind me as she stared at my mentor. “The three men with her got eaten by a ghoul. We got away. Can we put her up for the night?”

Hector gaped at my audacity, Emerald seemingly just as stunned.

“Hmph,” van Beek muttered, scowling at the greenette. “She's got the taint of sacrificial magic on her.”

Emerald cringed and looked down, unable to meet the accusation.

I shrugged. “She seemed to be running away from someone, likely the man who put the taint on her. I'll see to her needs.”

The Professor snorted and rolled his eyes, a sure sign that he'd had too much to drink. “Lord save me... fine. You'll deal with whatever or whoever is coming after her. It'll be a good chance to see how you deal with another practitioner. That'll tell me if I've been too lax with the lash.”

I twitched slightly, but nodded. “Thank you, Master.”

He grunted again. “I'm off to bed. If she wakes me, I'll kill her and have you clean her up.”

Oh, good, I almost thought he was going soft there for a moment.

Looking at Emerald, I waved her in. “You can stay.”

I chose to interpret the noise she made as excitement instead of fear.

~~~

Not a super-long chapter for this one like usual, since it was the runner-up for the top-tier vote, but we're at least moving past the current cliffhanger.

Meet Emerald! She's not had a good life.

Hopefully this will be an improvement.

Hopefully.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the last chapter of September. I'll have the new polls up later tonight after I take a break. Thank you again for all of your support and I'll have another update out in a few days. No idea what it will be at this stage, but I'll take a look at what hasn't gotten an update recently.

Mind Games - Chapter 40

“-and, I'm uh... sorry, that it's taken so long to arrange this, Toga-chan,” Shinso Niko stated, coughing into his fist. “I've just been, um... very busy with work orders, recently.”

“That's okay! Father often has to stay late at work!” Himiko chirped happily. “I'm just glad I finally got to meet Hitoshi's otou-san! Hee-hee!”

A wave of crashing anxiety and relief swept over the room.

If you didn't know Himiko, which my father very much did not, you would have sworn that she couldn't even feel it with how apparently non-existent her reaction was. Personally, I could see the micro-expression denoting surprise and unease, the tension in her muscles that were fractions of a second away from triggering a fight or flight response, and the way her eyes dilated as she swept the room for threats and exfiltration routes.

“W-well, I'm glad we finally managed to arrange something,” Dad stated, returning to his fish and pickled vegetables. “This is a good meal, Hitoshi. We haven't had something like this in a long time.”

Himiko blinked at me slowly.

“Both of us prefer fresh vegetables,” I answered the unasked question with a small shrug. “It's kind of rare for us to go to the extra effort given we're two guys.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to put you out!” Himiko replied, the barest trace of an apology in her tone. “The miso is very good.”

“Hitoshi made it himself,” Dad stated, a smile touching his face as we felt an invisible sun warm our skin. “He's really stepped up in the kitchen lately.”

“He's a very good cook,” Himiko nodded, then pouted as she glared at me playfully. “It makes me jealous. I should be better at cooking than him.”

“Ah, well... the wagashi you brought look delicious, Toga-chan,” Niko amended quickly, casting a look at a covered dish where painstakingly decorated traditional Japanese confections rested.

“Thank you so much! Mother helped guide me through the process,” Himiko stated proudly. “She and Father are very happy that my relationship with Hitoshi is progressing apace.”

“Oh, that's... um, good,” Niko hummed, his eyes seeking mine for a long moment as an ethereal whirlwind of confusion swept through the room.

Himiko's chopsticks clicked on open air, the single click a non-verbal plea.

“You mentioned they'd been giving you more work?” I poked my father mildly. “Was that Deternat or one of your other contracts?”

“Oh, uh... Incredi-tech, actually,” Niko blinked, the strange currents of un-weather stilling abruptly in surprise. “They had some security breaches recently and they wanted an overhaul of their older systems. It's all ancient C-Secure stuff from the early Dark Ages. Honestly, they should just eat the cost and upgrade everything.”

“Eeeeewww, C-Secure is gross!” Himiko pulled a face. “The only thing it does well is big batch data transfers and even then Trekka is waa~aay better at that these days.”

“Exactly!” Niko cried, pointing his chopsticks at Himiko in a way that made her twitch. “That's what I've been telling – wait, you know coding?”

My lip twitched.

“Mmm, yep! Coding is Himiko's hobby – kind of, I guess? Hitoshi says I need something that's fun and coding is fun. Making all the little numbers and letters make sense and be cute is nice,” Himiko nodded firmly.

“That's, ah... not how I would put it, but I think I understand,” Dad stated, sounding a bit stunned as an invisible sun beat down on us. “So what are your thoughts on the FURU system update that just got sent out?”

“Ah... it's like trying to take the ugly girl in class and make her pretty, but not understanding how fashion works?” Himiko rambled aloud. “Each piece is nice, but they didn't really understand how to put everything together, so it all clashes and makes her look worse.”

A spring's rain of amusement started to fall as my father snorted, “An interesting way to put it. I see what you're talking about, though. The interface with the various pieces is clumsy and spools up too much memory when operating at higher loads.”

“It's a pretty cute little OS for low-performance machines, but no one who's serious about doing important stuff should be using it,” Himiko giggled and shook her head. “I told Endeavor that when I patched security holes in the network. He made a cute face and the room got really hot all of a sudden. Hot Ice-senpai said the guy from their company had said that it was really-super-secure with high performance stuff.”

I wondered how Dad would react to learning what had actually happened beyond the highlight reel Himiko had just given him.

A 'cute face' was, after all, one hell of a way to interpret the apocalyptic anger on our mutual boss' face when the revelation of the exact cause behind all of the glitches in the agency was finally driven home. To be perfectly fair, the OS wasn't that bad. But Himiko's criticism wasn't unfounded, either.

Between River and Cass, I could see enough to be sincerely concerned. And even then, it wasn't what Himiko saw, especially through Kira's eyes. Even as much of a miracle as my mind was, there were certain tasks that she simply excelled at now. The amplification of her own hypersensitive awareness and the coordinator's hyper-computational abilities made her... something more than what she had been.

And she'd already been more than human.

I could code, yes, but what Himiko could do was different. She could rewrite entire operating systems when she got it into her head that they were 'cute enough,' which translated to what kind of high-end functionality she saw in its unfulfilled potential.

It was interesting, I wouldn't lie.

Coding was all about making something functional and, eventually, refining the product until it compiled and performed to the greatest extent possible. It was taking a bunch of bits and pieces, numbers and letters and equations and instructions, and telling a greater whole how to effectively function within an information ecosystem it was but a small part of. A significant part of that was ensuring its behavior was optimized and without significant deviation and...

...stop me if you see where I'm going with this analogy.

I didn't know whether I entirely approved of the way coding meshed with her behavioral sensibilities regarding society at large, but I'd noticed Himiko was significantly calmer while working on snarled and dysfunctional programming. She simply enjoyed putting order to chaos, and my cleaning-type OCD was strong enough that I couldn't really throw black kettles at glass houses.

Or however that saying went.

I listened in as my girlfriend and my father lost themselves in an extremely nerdy discussion about things no one beyond that profession actually cared for until the desert was well and finished. “Himiko, you wanted to see my room?”

“Oh! Yes, I'd like to, of course, dear!” Himiko stated, hopping up from the table and heading for the hallway. “I'll wait for you there!”

My father, who'd jerked slightly at the way Himiko had said 'dear,' blinked at the statement and her suddenly-empty spot at the table. “Shouldn't you show her...”

He waved vaguely towards my room.

I shrugged and tapped my nose. “Heteromophic trait. She'll be able to tell.”

Niko blinked again, “Ah... so...”

“She's giving us time to have a private conversation,” I explained with a shrug, picking up one of the last sweets she'd made and taking a small bite out of it. One one layer, these were a familiar – if rare – treat, on the other though, they were something foreign and contained nowhere near enough sugar for someone who'd grown up eating pecan pie and sweet potato casserole with marshmallows. “I told you that Himiko is moving into an apartment so that she can make the commute to UA more easily, right?”

Niko nodded slowly, the feeling of a deep sea of suspicion with dark waters sweeping past me. “Hitoshi...”

“I'm not moving out,” I waved him off, knowing – quite literally – where his mind had gone. Dad relaxed, the deep waters becoming shallow, but not disappearing. “But I did want to let you know that I'll be staying at her place a few nights each week.”

The man grimaced, “I'm not sure if I-”

“I'll still be making your meals like usual,” I noted, continuing as if the man hadn't spoken. “And her apartment comes with a small laundry unit, so even if I don't have a spare uniform with me, I can launder the one I'm currently wearing. And I'm open to sending you a text or calling every day for a few months to let you know that I'm at her place and not wandering the town at all hours or sleeping in and missing classes or something.”

The barest hint of a roiling storm filled the air, static seeming to cloud the room as I felt the apparent pressure drop. “Hitoshi, that's not what I'm concerned about.”

I hummed and nibbled on my sweet a bit more. “No kids until after high school. Himiko thought she could manage her final year, but-”

A surge in the pressure now, as the room filled up with a presence, my father leaning forward to bring the flat of his fist down on the table. All things told, it was a relatively weak expression of anger compared to what other people might indulge in, but... all the more significant for the fact that it was Shinso Niko demonstrating it.

There was silence for a moment as the threatening storm began to roll back, my father taking controlled breaths to tamp down on his temper.

There were memories, the same type which had made my pulse race during the confrontation in that conference room at school, bearing down on me. Living with this man had been oppressive for a child to endure, each mood a full weather front in a confined space and no way out. Anger was rare, true, but frustration was common enough with larger projects and tight schedules, and the only thing that changed was the violence inherent in the storm those two emotions brought.

Anger was a towering thunderhead, full of sound and fury, trying to tear apart the foundations of your very being. It came and went with equal suddenness, pushing and pulling as turbulence mounted. Whereas frustration was less intense, but a steady howl of rain and pressure that could be all the more maddening without the distance of secure walls to block them out.

But I have those walls now. You can't just huff and puff and blow me down now, Dad.

I could still feel the storm, but it was lessened now. Something that was happening outside, past a barrier, where I could see the water pounding and trying to get in, but ineffectually. I understood the turbulence, I'd stood in this very storm before unprotected, but it couldn't touch me.

“I'm sorry,” Niko began, closing his eyes briefly and rubbing at his eyes. “That was... I shouldn't have lost my temper. I just... you're not even fifteen yet, Hitoshi. Spending nights with your girlfriend, that isn't something I'm comfortable with.”

Time for both barrels.

“She's going to be your daughter-in-law, Dad,” I told him bluntly, making him jerk. “For all intents and purposes, she already is.”

“You mean, she-” Niko's eyes widened.

“Knowingly,” I nodded, leaning back in my chair.

“O-oh,” he mumbled, slightly stunned. His eyes tracked back to the direction of my room from where he sat. “W-well... she's a smart girl, there's that at least. So I can't say it was an accident on her part, no...”

I allowed the man to mutter and ruminate for another few moments, then glance back to me and appear to snap himself out of his fugue. I cleared my throat. “Himiko and I fit together. She doesn't care about my quirk, or yours-”

And that's another lie I'll put next to baiting you into snapping out of anger a few minutes ago.

“-and she knows about Mom.” Dad winced at that, looking away again, in the opposite direction. “She's attending UA with me, in the hero track with me, and we're working together at the same agency as interns.”

Even if my 'internship' was in name only and hers was subsidized through renting her apartment and offering a living-allowance.

“She can even hold up a conversation with a mega-nerd about coding,” I nodded at him. “So while I get that you think we're moving too fast – and, honestly, I do too to a degree – we make each other happy and unless I can track down a zaibatsu heiress who'll hook me up with a harem of mistresses, I'm pretty sure Himiko is the absolute best prospect I'm going to be able to achieve.”

Niko looked back, staring at me for a long moment, then allowed his shoulders to droop. “When you put things like that, Hitoshi, yes. She's seems like she's the perfect girl. But that's precisely why I don't want you to spoil things by jumping into the deep end before you're ready.”

I nodded. “Which is why this will only be for a night or two at a time. We might just sleep in the same bed, or something else might happen, but if we're absolutely not going to work out together because we can't stand sharing the same space, it'd be better to find that out now than three years down the line the hard way.”

“So... how will that work given you're...” Niko searched for the right word, “already committed to each other?”

“It likely ends with us getting apartments next door from each other and maintaining separate living conditions parallel to one another,” I replied dryly. “Although considering how much time we're spending with each other and how close we are to cohabitating already, I find that unlikely.”

“It seems like you've... given this a lot of thought,” Niko stated, the storm further quelling but stubbornly refusing to vanish.

“Given the seriousness of the topic, I thought I should,” I stated, standing up from the table. “I'll let you give it the same consideration I did and, if you have any concerns, bring them up with me later.”

Leaving the table first was a power move, as was referring to the conclusion of the discussion as finished, at least tacitly. I wasn't lying in that I would listen to his concerns, but they wouldn't change the outcome of my decision. Unless Dad wanted to go to war over this – and as his last real social connection, I was too valuable to risk doing that for – he'd accept it. It was a cold-blooded way to resolve the matter, but I didn't really need family drama on top of everything else.

“Hitoshi,” Dad called, shifting in his chair as he rose as well.

I turned back, raising an eyebrow.

“Your mother...” Niko paused, frowning. “For what it's worth, I think she'll like Himiko.”

I smiled, and nodded. “Thanks, Dad. That actually helps a lot.”

“Good,” Niko nodded, then waved me off. “You see to your girl, I'll clean things up here.”

Feeling better, I traced the well-worn path to my room, finding Himiko busying herself looking through the small collection of pornography I'd had stashed in one of my desk drawers. Dad had never been motivated enough to be curious about my 'reading habits' since Mom was put away, so they were in a fairly insecure place. If someone was really out to get me, they'd go after the computer and not my fap material.

When they lifted the desktop from its mounting, of course, the pepper spray would trigger and they'd get what they deserved.

“Hitoshi likes sisters,” Himiko noted as she flipped the page. “Do you want Reiko?”

The question was neutral, not accusatory, but then I hardly expected something as mundane as an accusation from the girl who'd offered me one of her closest friends on a silver platter.

“I'm exploring other options at the moment,” I replied.

“Hmm... but the contract said you need three,” Himiko noted, frowning. “Reiko would be nice! I think. I've been trying to arrange snacks at cafes with her, but Mother and Father are making it difficult.”

“Before I evaluate the possibility that I bind Reiko,” I answered, a bit tiredly, “I'd like to meet her personally and get to know her. I'm not telling you no, Himiko, I'm telling you 'not now.'”

“Focus on Kyoka first, then.” Himiko nodded.

I sighed and pulled her with me to sit on my bed together. “Wife, listen to me. Adding people to our relationship is a joint decision, one which I would prefer to put off for some time. I want us, you and I, to have more time together to enjoy being together before we make plans for another person.”

Himiko's smile turned dreamy and toothy at the confession and she leaned against me as she sighed happily. “Okay, Husband. I promise not to bring it up again for some time. I just want to make sure some slut doesn't come in and try to wreck our home.”

I was grateful Himiko couldn't see my expression at the moment, her face pressed into the nape of my neck as it was. “Your Mother's advice?”

“Mmm... yeah, Mother knows a lot about this stuff. There have been a lot of naughty women who tried to get Father to leave her,” Himiko nodded. “So now she vets any mistresses he has! Just like I'm doing! Mother was so proud of me when I asked for advice!”

I swear this girl is going to give me a stroke one day.

“Your father has mistresses?” I asked instead, morbidly curious.

Himiko hummed against me. “Yep! He sometimes smells like other women when he comes home. Once it was a man, even! I finally asked Mother why and she said that the average married man in Japan has an affair of some kind. They talked about it and agreed that he gets to have one every three years and she gets one every five. Then they have a fight about it in a semi-public setting and everything goes back to normal.”

I stared at my wall for a moment, taking comfort in its plain boring nature.

“Himiko, Dear,” I stated blankly. “I don't want you to have an affair.”

“Hmm... I guess?” Himiko sighed a bit, her breath hot against my skin. “Does that mean I can't enjoy the cuties Hitoshi picks?”

“Those will be mutually-agreed-upon,” I replied dryly, “so they're fine.”

“Oh, that's nice!” Himiko chirped happily. “Also, your father's quirk is weird. I know you explained it, but I don't like it. Are we going to eat here often? Because feeling the emotions he projects, even if I'm protected... it makes me feel all twisty and... not-good.”

I took my mental model of my father and estimated how much and how often he would want to see Himiko. “I'll make sure you have each other's numbers and can contact each other that way. He'd likely be more comfortable with a video call, honestly.”

“That's great!” Himiko laughed, smiling. “My Husband is so smart!”

“I'd also like to not meet your parents very often, either, Wife,” I stated bluntly.

Himiko pouted – the expression mostly performative, I felt – and nodded. “Okay, I know which excuses Mother and Father will accept. I'll let you know if there's something important you need to attend. Like when we go visit my grandparents in Kyoto next winter. We'll have been dating long enough that you will probably need to meet them.”

I vaguely recalled that being the reason why we hadn't done anything for Christmas a few months ago. “That sounds good, I'll inform you similarly.”

“Yay!” Himiko cheered lightly, throwing her arms around my neck and giving me a kiss on the cheek before disengaging. “Now I need to get back to the apartment so I can get ready for tomorrow!”

I sighed at the state of my life in general and rose with Himiko off the bed. “Alright, let's tell my father goodnight and I'll walk you to the station.”

…

UA loomed large the next morning.

I'd met Himiko at the station closest to the school, barely a ten minute walk from UA itself and its expansive grounds. The area around the school had obviously shifted to conform to those who most-frequented the neighborhoods. A significant number of the stores catered to younger age groups, specifically teenagers, and focused on various kinds of secondary life-style equipment most heroes-in-training required.

There were a few public gyms, places that sold Detnerat gear, custom-fitted clothing for heteromorphic quirks, and several on-the-go eateries in addition to the obligatory book stores and cafes.

To answer the burning question on everyone's mind, though... no, Starbucks hadn't survived the Dark Ages. Societal collapse apparently means people go back to prepackaged stuff. I think the brand still existed, but the stores were pretty much defunct.

“I haven't seen you before, and you're awfully short to be an upper-year transfer.”

I pulled out my wallet and flipped the relevant document out. The girl who'd spoken to me, an upperclassman, leaned over slightly and frowned at it for a moment, then blinked.

“Hitoshi-kun's already passed the test and has his license,” Himiko chimed in from my side with a smile. “So he gets to wear his costume instead of his uniform.”

Hado Nejire blinked and dipped her head in a bow, “My apologies, Shinso-kun. I thought you were just a particularly dedicated Eraserhead cosplayer.”

I shrugged, “The man has good taste.”

Her serious, almost grave, expression broke slightly and she snorted. “Well, it'll be interesting if you have his class, at least. Tell him Nejire said hello, if you do.”

I gave her a thumbs-up and we parted ways at that.

“She's nice!” Himiko chirped, smiling.

I turned and gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Just nice!” Himiko smiled wider. “I promised!”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, but led her on.

“It's so uncute that we're in different homerooms, though,” Himiko sighed as she continued to walk with me towards the tower that housed the hero course students. “Why couldn't they put us together?”

“Probably because Vlad King has a blood-related quirk and wanted you in his class,” I replied, leaning on the common fanon explanation for such shenanigans. And it wasn't all that unlikely, either. I knew well enough that teachers enjoyed seeing a student that reminded them of themselves every now and then.

“And Eraserhead wants you because you dress like him,” Himiko nodded.

I hummed, not wanting to fight her on that. I didn't think the man was so shallow that he's select a student based entirely on that criteria. Although, if he'd decided that I could be a reasonable body-double to get out of doing his work, I wouldn't put it past him. Maybe he thought sticking me behind the podium up front meant he could nap in peace...

“I'll see you at lunch!” Himiko declared, kissed my cheek – much to the looks of irritation and envy by our classmates – and skipped off to her classroom.

I sighed and tromped towards my own.

~~~

And we're officially at UA! For real this time! First day of class and everything!

...god, I'm just realizing how long this story is going to run for. Well, at least it's fun to write.

Anyway! I'm going to try and squeeze in one more update before the month ends. It'll probably be one of those that go out right before/right after the new poll for October. I think I'll try and close out that cliffhanger for The Hand We're Dealt.

Spooky Season is also upon us. That'll be a thing.

As always, though, thank you for your patience and support!

Butler Boy - Chapter 8

The tattoo blinked at me.

My eye twitched.

I took a deep breath, pulled my underwear up, and resolved to shove the issue of my new brand as far into the back of my mind as I could. On one level, I'd tried testing things out by looking over some work I was supposed to do for classes next week and it had come a lot easier to me, but... I had a tattoo on my ass now.

A nasty tattoo that looked entirely like something I could believe a Chaos God from 40K would endorse as their mark. Strange off-color tones of flesh made up most of the ‘body’ of the tattoo, while bands of metal-shaded material the color of polished brass crossed it. A few feathers and tentacles dotted the design as well, for good measure.

But the most disturbing aspects of the Brand of Tzeentch had to be the fact that the various portions of it would twitch and writhe as if the mark itself were alive in some way. Which included parts of the mark left ‘empty’ and shaded with designs of empty space dotted with stars and galaxies that would slowly shift in and out of view as well as the giant central eye held between two open maws of sharp teeth.

I hated it, in other words.  All of it. Especially the fact that it was on my goddamn ass. Did I mention that last bit yet?

It wasn't called a 'brand' for nothing, I guess.

Like fucking cattle.

So, yes, I was a little pissed off.

Even if my masterpiece-tier art was already coming easier, faster, and developing further, there was the simple fact that I wasn't going to be taking my pants off in front of anyone else without a very awkward and complicated explanation, now. Not that I actually believed I'd get that far with Astrid today or anything. I really didn't. Third base stuff wasn't even on the menu, let alone the idea of a home run. I'd been planning on first, maybe second-base shenanigans, if I was extremely lucky.

But it would have been nice to have the option, at least.

“Is this cursed with awesome or blessed with suck?” I asked myself aloud, eventually deciding on the former rather than the latter. The effect was beneficial, but creepy and possibly humiliating if anyone saw it, but it wasn't as though I could look the trope up online or something.

I mean, Buffy was a thing, so presumably the trope catalog that had started out as a fansite would eventually metamorphose into TVtropes like some sort of toxic pupal-butterfly thing.

“Arden! Get in here! I want pictures before you head out!” Mom called from the stairs, and I sighed as I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I'd dressed up a bit in something I normally reserved for church, a blue polo and plain tan slacks with a belt that matched my shoes. It was casual-fancy, as contradictory as that might seem.

Enough to show Astrid I was taking this seriously, but not enough to look completely out of place at an informal setting like Applebees or a movie theater.

“Coming, Mom!” I replied, raising my voice to carry the distance as I habitually slipped a hand into my pocket to check for a ticket. The move was quickly becoming a nervous tic of mine, something I'd have to watch out for. I'd managed to sate the need for more gacha pulls by dipping out onto the back porch last night and tearing the remaining bronze ticket I'd had.

The result? Well... a little bit of a problem.

Hopefully no one noticed the dire wolf running around in the mountains.

But that was a concern for Future Arden, whom I pitied for screwing over like that, but he'd probably done something to deserve it. Aside from the advent of my new familiar – named Shadow – I hadn't managed to score another ticket yet.

Honestly? Kind of glad. Or at least relieved.

I needed the detox from my life getting progressively weirder and more complicated.

I came trooping down after filling my pockets with some extra date-related stuff. An extra pack of tissues, a handkerchief, a little bit of emergency cash, some hand sanitizer, a double-sided sharpie that could substitute for a pen in a clutch, a tiny flashlight... and my new and more elaborate multi-tool latched to my belt. It was the best I could currently do without a custom-built one to keep on my person at all times.

That was still a work in progress, and my time was spoken for.

Last but not least, of course, was the new satellite phone that had just come by private courier yesterday. After the initial setup, I'd stuck it in a soundproof bag that doubled as a faraday cage. Now, though, it was out and attached to my other hip in its own leather holster.

Still, unless someone else had a vault door to seal me inside, what I was carrying would give me a better than average chance.

“Okay, I'm here, get out the camera...” I sighed as I tromped down the stairs.

“Oh... my boy looks so handsome!” Mom sighed, her eyes watering. “Let me just make sure your shirt is sitting right...”

I held back my complaints as she fussed at me tearfully. Normally, I'd give her a little lip just to make my frustrations known, but this was a bigger deal for her than it was for me. I'd been on dates before, once upon a time. This was her youngest child taking one of his first steps towards independence. For a woman whose eldest child had already left the nest and her second was actively pursuing college applications, the 'baby' of the family was now showing that he wasn't one anymore.

Then the phone rang.

“I'll get it,” Dad spoke up, grumbling slightly as Mom snapped a couple of pictures. “Yes, who is-oh, it's you Steve. What's up? The TV, why? Should I get Arden?”

“Oh dear,” Mom sighed worriedly as Dad came in and yoinked the remote out of my brother's grasp.

“Hey, what's up!?” Algie asked, startled out of his vegetative state. He wasn't usually a TV kind of guy, but when he did watch, he tended to zone out. “I was-”

“Shh!” Dad cut him off, working the remote with his off hand as he cradled the phone with the other. “You said national news? Let's see... Daily Planet... Arden, come here and take the phone.”

“Roger that,” I nodded, coming up from behind my father and taking the device from his unresisting hands. “Mr. Carmichael, is that you?”

“Arden! My favorite little genius stock prodigy! Great to talk to you. Listen, I'm sorry again about the leak and that intern's been fired, believe me-” The man on the other end started.

“It's fine, sir, these things happen. The important thing is that you called us instead of the other way around once we all figured out who dropped the ball,” I replied with a shrug. “Being upfront counts for a lot.”

“That it does,” he sighed in relief. “Anyway, more pressing matters – we've got some hullabaloo around Wayne Enterprises-”

“Ah, found it!” Dad cried triumphantly.

I kept listening to Steven Carmichael as he explained, but he wasn't saying anything that the reporter on the screen wasn't.

“-to repeat, the costumed criminal known as the Escape Artist – real name Cormac Dodge – has accused billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne of secretly being the notorious Gotham City vigilante Batman!” The woman behind the desk smiled widely, as if letting us all in on the big secret, even as a mugshot of the man in question was shown behind her. Notably, it was of the man still in costume, bearing multiple large bruises and several bandaged cuts. “Dodge has presented substantial evidence to legitimize his allegations and has vowed to pursue a civil case against the Wayne scion for violation of his civil rights.”

“Whoa,” Algie spoke softly, his eyes wide, as my parents exchanged concerned looks.

“Now, to continue on this story, we have a Jacob Teller outside Wayne Manor-”

I tuned the reporter out and turned to walk away from the living room towards the quieter kitchen, not bothering to hide my chuckling over the line. “Well, that's a good one. So what's the problem, Mr. Carmichael?”

The man on the other end sighed, “Ah... I forget how young you are sometimes, Arden. Stock prices for Wayne Enterprises are... fluctuating with the news.”

I hummed. “Wait for them to go down, then buy more shares.”

“A-are you sure, Arden?” The man asked, anxiety obvious in his voice. I heard the sound of something solid being set down on wood and the tinkling noise of ice on glass.

Great, the man was already drinking at this time of day...

“I'm assuming you saw the same picture of this guy that I did on the news just now,” I replied bluntly. “His costume is a straitjacket, Mr. Carmichael – Steven – he's a nutter. A loon. This is tabloid gossip at best.”

“R-right,” Steve muttered, the noise of ice and glass colliding sounding again, closer to the receiver this time. “But I've been watching the story since it hit two hours ago, Arden. There's some pretty damning evidence being discussed.”

“Oh, there will probably be some kind of investigation,” I said. “If whatever he's calling proof is enough to convince the right people, they'll put Mr. Wayne's life under a microscope and probably run his company's finances through a fine-toothed comb, but I doubt they'll find anything. Come to think of it, you should probably wait until after the police announce they're going to look at Wayne Enterprises to buy up stock. That'll really make things drop. People always panic when cops show up at the door.”

“You do make a compelling argument... but what if this lunatic is right, Arden? The majority of your investments are in Wayne Enterprises. This could destroy you financially,” Steven pressed.

“It's about forty percent,” I replied thoughtfully, “If it bottoms out as a result of this, that will be unfortunate, but we'll still have LexCorp, Queen Industries, and Kordtech to fall back on to rebuild. Besides, I've called Wayne Enterprises right before, why do you think this one's different?”

There was a pause and the sound of ice shifting as a glass was emptied. “Right. You're right. Just another day of high-risk trading. What do you want me to liquidate to make the purchases?”

I mentally thumbed through the catalog of stocks I had going. “Sell off some of the Wayne shares. Not many... say, thirty percent of what we've got. That'll help fuel the seller's panic. Dump a few shares of the Queen stock, too. That's always a little too volatile for my taste, anyway.”

Seriously, the Queens were like the worst kind of mafia-style soap opera with their family drama.

“And then wait until after the price drop from whatever investigation is announced to buy everything back,” Steve replied, the voice of someone building surety.

“Bruce Wayne will announce some kind of response to the allegations in the next few days, no doubt,” I stated authoritatively. “You'll want to do it once the announcement is made. Whatever speech he gives is going to help solidify public support and discredit this Dodge idiot.”

“...why do you think he'll wait a few days to make the announcement?” Steve asked. “If it were me, I'd want to get out ahead of this thing. It's going to be a real mess.”

I hummed and considered my response.

Because there's no way I can tell him that Bruce is going to wait for the worst of the bruises to fade. If someone got close enough to actually figure out his ID, things likely got hectic.

I was feeling a bit sharper today, though, and part of me wondered about the brand's influence already showing itself. “Because he doesn't own a majority share in his company, yet. If he's the type of person I think he is, he'll take advantage of something like this and let prices fall to buy back shares under his control.”

“You put a lot of stock in Bruce Wayne, Arden,” Steve observed. “I've always wondered why, care to finally share?”

I looked at the clock and frowned, I'd need to leave soon...

“Do you think I'm smart, Steve?” I asked, apropos of nothing.

“W-well... I don't call you a prodigy for nothing,” he pointed out with an awkward chuckle.

I nodded, not that he could see. “If you think I'm smart, then trust me when I tell you that Bruce Wayne is a lot more intelligent than he lets on. At bare minimum he was savvy enough to leave Gotham for a few years, disappear off the face of the Earth, and show back up without any sort of explanation where he's been.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. “I, uh... don't see how that's all that smart.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “Nowadays people shove cameras in Bruce Wayne's face to ask him where he disappeared to, which resort he was staying at, why he faked his own death... everyone's forgotten that they used to do the same thing to ask him how he felt when his parents died in front of him.”

“O-oh,” Steve stated, shocked at my bluntness.

“And if those had been my parents,” I continued, the thought making me vaguely sick as I imagined the scenario, “a few years living off the grid would be a small price to pay to make everyone finally shut up about the worst day of my life.”

I paused to let that sink in.

“So yeah,” I stated, “I think he's smarter than he lets on. But I don't believe that he's running around Gotham at night dressed like a bat, Mr. Carmichael. That's just silly.”

Steve chuckled on the other end of the line. “Alright, well... you've convinced me. I'll get right on your trading instructions.”

Steve hung up and I pulled the phone away, hesitated... then decided not to say anything. Knowing Bruce like I did, it was a coin flip as to whether or not he'd tapped the lines already or figured out some way to intercept the signal. Still, it was better that he believe, for the moment, that I wasn't aware of the possibility of him listening in.

“Mom, I'm heading out!” I called into the living room, bringing one last flurry of fussing over me before I managed to escape.

…

In a cave under a three-centuries old manor house in the outer limits of Gotham City, a man leaned back in a large chair, partially-disrobed of the elaborate and technologically-advanced suit he had worn the night before. His eyes were locked on the screen of the advanced supercomputer before him, a speech-to-text program having compiled a log of the phone call that had just ended scrolling past him for fine-tuning.

“He certainly seems to be an insightful child, doesn't he, Master Wayne?” The distinguished voice of Alfred Pennyworth spoke up from behind him, a wheeled cart rolling forward with food and medicine laden upon it.

“Too insightful,” Bruce stated thoughtfully. “I have to wonder if he really is what he appears to be, Alfred.”

“Something more insidious than a problematically well-informed teenage prodigy?” The butler asked as he went about arranging. “I shudder to think of any sort of creature which could meet that criteria.”

Bruce huffed, his lips twitching, but the amusement faded in short order. “I saw things on my travels, Alfred. Things that could pretend to be children. I have to wonder if something used his disappearance to replace him. Or possess him.”

“Yet all indicators seem to point to this 'Arden Villin' having undergone no significant change during his unwilling captivity,” Alfred noted clinically. “Your comparative analysis of his speech patterns, body language, and personal conduct all fit with established habits formed prior to his disappearance. Further, did you not note that the amount of human waste removed from the bunker fit with the time period in question?”

Bruce grunted, but nodded, reaching up to cup his chin. “I'll keep the option open, but even I'll admit that it's unlikely. My current leading theory is a stress-induced meta-gene activation on top of a naturally-high intellect.”

“Then it would appear that we are at least the beneficiaries of some good fortune in that regard,” Alfred commented dryly as he touched up the ointment and bandages littering the younger man's body.

“How so?” Bruce asked, leaning forward to allow the butler better access.

“More than simply being 'heroically-inclined,' as the boy termed it in that seventh-year paper he wrote regarding Superman, he respects you,” Alfred paused, meaningfully. “Specifically. Enough to implicitly reveal his capabilities – at least some of them – to you.”

Bruce was silent as he digested that.

“More than respect, even, I would say that is a remarkable show of trust,” Alfred added pointedly. “Whatever his powers and whatever he knows, Master Wayne, perhaps you should take heart in the fact that what he has seen of you inspires such faith.”

A sensor began blinking and Bruce frowned before tapping at the keyboard to cue up the footage being relayed. On the screen now was an older child – or a younger teen – who was digging through one of the long-term storage areas of the manor above them. Specifically, a dust-covered room in the cellar that housed a secondary access point for the Batcave.

“Are you sure we can't trade this intelligent young man in Colorado for the gremlin you picked up off the streets?” Alfred asked, the ghost of a plaintive whine in his voice as he watched the girl loot through family heirlooms with callous disregard for their importance.

“Alfred,” Bruce stated, the word carrying both tolerant amusement as well as a hint of chastisement. “It's in a child's nature to explore a new environment, and Anita hasn't done any permanent damage, yet. If and when that happens, I'll set some boundaries.”

“And when Ms. Jean finds her way down here, sir?” Alfred asked.

“She was the one to discover my identity for Dodge,” Bruce replied, shaking his head at the complications of the last few days. “Should that happen, it won't fundamentally change anything. That talk about boundaries will simply have another dimension to it.”

“And the public at large?” Alfred pressed. “What will they be told regarding your intentions towards the girl? Some will see it as a further indictment of your double life.”

Bruce snorted and smiled. “Putting aside his disturbingly accurate read on the situation, Arden Villin has the right of it. I don't actually have to do any work discrediting Cormac Dodge, he's done all of that himself. The story we'll present is that you and I came across Anita committing a crime while inspecting one of the company's properties in the city and, instead of turning her in to the police, offered to shelter her from reprisal by the man who'd trained her to be a criminal.”

“Thus portraying Dodge as a lunatic fabricating an absurd story in a fit of attempted vengeance towards a figure who is otherwise too wealthy to touch,” Alfred surmised.

“And giving me ample cause to take the girl in long-term,” Bruce nodded. “To give her a better life, away from the poverty and madman that plagued her life up to this point.”

“And the Batman, sir? What will he do?” Alfred asked.

“Well, clearly Bruce Wayne doesn't have connections to Batman, so he can't simply call him up,” Bruce chuckled. “But I'll host a gala and publicly invite the vigilante to make an appearance if he'd like me to double the charitable contribution to the charity of the evening... the orphan's fund, I think.”

“A noble and very topical cause, considering Ms. Jean's appearance in your life,” Alfred lauded, then hesitated. “Shall I assume that we're going with 'Plan B' for covering your identity, sir?”

The younger man turned towards his butler and nodded. “Unless you're uncomfortable with it?”

Alfred pursed his lips, then nodded. “As long as I am not required to swing from the ceiling like some sort of carnival acrobat, I'm sure I'll manage. My days of such things are very much over, Master Bruce.”

Now Bruce laughed outright and nodded. “I'll be sure to make a note. You'll also have to put up with Anita publicly thanking you for taking down Dodge as part of the cover story.”

“If she can do so in the Queen's English, I'll cooperate,” Alfred replied dryly, “but that Cockney Twang of hers, as you Americans say, simply must go. I'll handle the elocution lessons myself, if I must.”

Suddenly, an alarm rang out through the cave and Bruce sighed slightly as he muted it. Alfred hummed smugly and turned as the elevator from the supply room dropped down. Bruce could have overridden it, but this was as good a point as any to sit down with his new ward and have that talk.

“I've already contacted social services regarding Anita's case,” Bruce spoke up as he readied himself, reaching for a shirt to put on. “They're looking things over and should call soon.”

“Very good, sir,” Alfred nodded. “I'll schedule that gala you mentioned for next week. It's short notice, but I imagine several people will clear their schedules given your current media presences. Hopefully the bruises will have faded by then.”

Bruce turned as the elevator door opened, already moving towards it with a wry smile to find the dark-haired girl grinning at him shyly.  “Hello, AJ. It seems like you’ve found your way down here faster than I thought you would.”

Anita Jean smiled cautiously up at him. “Wotcher, sir. I haven’t made a pig’s ear of it, ‘ave I?”

Bruce shook his head and put a hand on her shoulder. “No, but we do need to discuss a few things.”

…

“So... what movie are we seeing?” Astrid asked, leaning in to me and smiling.

“I was thinking Anaconda,” I replied with a small grin.

The girl at my side snorted. “You know I actually like horror movies, so don't think I'm going to cuddle up next to you like some girly-girl.”

“Perish the thought,” I replied dryly. “I just want to go see a movie about a giant snake eating people.”

“Well that's okay then,” she nodded imperiously. “But we need to take a few pictures. Mom only let me out of the house on the condition that I snag a few. It was either that or let her drive me to Applebees.”

“Same,” I nodded, sighing as I pulled the disposable camera from my back pocket. Astrid mimicked me, pulling one from her purse with a giggle. “I hope I'm not being too much of a guy here, but... I didn't take you for a purse kind of girl.”

“Hmm... little bit of a guy thing to say, yeah,” Astrid snorted, “but, yeah, you're right. I'm not. I actually hate purses. Normally.”

She blushed slightly.

“But,” she continued, “I just had so many things I wanted to take with me in case something happened, or I spilled something on myself, or – well, you get it.”

“I do,” I shrugged. “It's why I wear jeans with extra-large pockets. And nowadays I have to add holsters on my hips for extra stuff.”

“I was going to ask about that,” Astrid commented, tilting her head to look at my belt. “Is that really a cell phone? My parents have been talking about getting one, but they don't know how much they'd use it.”

Ah, sweet summer children. Who are adults and older than me.

“It's a stockholder thing,” I sighed, “I got sent it by the head of a company that wants to stay in touch.”

“You don't sound happy about it,” she observed.

“It's... not a huge deal,” I grimaced, “I just don't like the idea of being constantly in contact with anyone who wants to reach me, all day every day.”

I had enough of that for a lifetime, but...

“Then just tell him you'll keep it at home and not take it with you to, like school or stuff,” Astrid giggled. “I can't imagine that even high school teachers would be happy if their classes got interrupted by a phone ringing.”

“I'll have to remember to put it on silent,” I grumbled. “But it's a good idea, to keep it on me, I mean. If I get into another situation like with the Baxters.”

Astrid grimaced, her mood dipping a bit. “I don't know if you'd be able to use it down in a basement like that, aren't they supposed to be really glitchy out in the woods or caves or stuff? But, yeah... if it did work, that would have solved things right away.”

“I'll have to see what kind of reception this gets,” I agreed. “I know that the LexTel phones don't work out in the country, but this is a Starphone, from Star Labs, and they're supposed to work anywhere.”

Astrid hummed thoughtfully, agreeing with the skepticism in my voice. “Anyway, let's talk about something else... ah, I've got nothing.”

I chuckled and, despite her blush, Astrid giggled. “Let's see... what do you want to do when you grow up? College and a job and stuff?”

She blinked as we walked along, dinner still sitting heavy in our stomachs and the movie almost an hour away. “Huh... well, I don't really know, but if I had to say something... I'd like to work with animals, I guess. I mean, if astronaut isn't on the table or anything.”

“You could be an astronaut if you wanted to,” I told her, then rolled over her disbelieving snort. “No, really. Do you want to be an astronaut?”

Astrid blushed and looked up, into the sky. “I'd... really like to, yeah. Just... it's hard to see myself getting there, you know?”

“Well, make a plan and stick to it,” I replied with a shrug. “Staying in scouts and earning your eagle is a good way to demonstrate that you're willing to go the distance. Then, let's see... you should probably decide if you want to go military or science.”

“Military or science?” Astrid asked, frowning. “What – oh! You mean whether I want to be on the crew as flight personnel or a specialist.”

I snapped my fingers. “You already know this stuff and I'm just running my mouth, aren't I?”

“No – well, I mean, kind of,” Astrid ducked her head with a sly grin. “I have looked into it, don't get me wrong. It's just... it looks really hard.”

“I'll pretend to be mature for a moment and reply that most things worth doing are hard,” I sighed. “I'm getting into shape, for instance. Already talked to my brother and I'm going to join him on morning runs and stuff.”

“Oh, that's so cool!” Astrid grinned, then paused, suddenly hesitant. “Do you... would you mind if I joined in? Getting in shape sounds great, but it's so boring doing it by yourself.”

No lie, my stomach did a little flip at the suggestion.

“Sure,” I nodded, making sure to clear my throat so my voice didn't crack. “I'll have to check with Algie, but he shouldn't have a problem with it as long as we can keep up.”

Well, he won't have a problem with it, no. He'll just give me grief that my new girlfriend wants to spend time with me. But that's what siblings do and not her problem.

“But if you're really interested in animals and space... you might think about getting a doctorate in biology with some kind of focus in that area,” I circled back to our earlier topic. “It might not be with actual animals all that often, but it's a good spot for the two things to cross over.”

“You're not going to let this drop, are you?” Astrid asked, snorting in faux-exasperation. “Okay, what do you want to do when you grow up? Turnabout is fair play!”

I chuckled and nodded. “Well... I was thinking about programming, honestly. As my practical choice, at least. There are a bunch of weird old programming languages like cobol that a lot of banks use.”

“That's not practical,” Astrid snickered. “That's boring, no offense Arden. Just... it sounds...”

“Oh, it's incredibly boring,” I agreed readily with a smirk. “Like, soul-crushing. Most people who go into this stuff jump ship after only five years because they can't stand doing the work anymore.”

“Why would you want to do that?!” Astrid asked, appalled and horrified.

“Six figure salary,” I replied instantly, making her blink. “This is the programming language that banks and other places that deal with money use and they're always trying to find more people to help keep their systems running. If you're smart about it, you don't just get out of the field after five years, you retire.”

That had been the plan, originally. Smart stock investments, get a job doing tedious coding for five years, build up a store of wealth that will last for the rest of my life, and then buy some land in Wyoming where fucking aliens won't invade, Lex Luthor won't stomp through in a battle-suit, and one of the insane super-gangs won't start a war outside my front door.

Newsflash, being powerless in a world of supers was disheartening and miserable when you weren't used to it.

“Okay, if I'm going to be an astronaut then you can't be a super-nerd trying to retire in five years,” Astrid shook her head. “If you could do anything, what would you want to do?”

“Superhero,” I replied instantly.

Astrid blinked, “Huh. You're the kind of guy that's either all on or all off, aren't you?”

I shrugged, my cheeks heating a little. “I find moderation difficult.”

She giggled, hugging my arm. “Okay, I'm a future astronaut and you're a future superhero.”

“Deal,” I nodded, surprising her again with how seriously I agreed to her proposition. “No backing out.”

Astrid snorted and nodded. “I feel like I should be the one telling you that. Seriously, how do you even become a superhero?”

Part of me, admittedly, wanted to tell her about my powers. That was the puppy love talking, and probably my teenage hormones. I knew Astrid fairly well and thought that she would probably take things well enough, but it definitely wasn't a first date kind of conversation. That was the kind of thing you talked about right before rings came out. Or, at the very least, a few months into a relationship.

“I'll get back to you when I figure that out, I guess,” I grinned at her confidently.

She stared at me for a moment, then smiled and leaned in to press her lips to mine, pulling back after just a quick peck.

I stiffened in surprise, my cheeks feeling hot as Astrid skipped away with a giggle. “We should start heading back to the theater!”

The movie was... well, it was a silly b-grade horror schlock flick, just like I remembered. The date was the more enjoyable part of things, especially when a few of the jump scares that I barely remembered made Astrid and I hold each other's hands tightly.

Well, that... and the short break of normalcy was about to end.

A bronze ticket for my first kiss.

A silver ticket for a successful first date.

And a gold ticket for being on Batman's radar, which probably answered the question of whether or not he'd tapped my phone lines yet.

Gacha Pull mentioned off-screen this chapter:

72. Dire Wolf (1.5 Rarity, 3.28% odds)

-Common Familiar-

A large vicious prehistoric wolf the size of a man, they are very strong with tough and sharp teeth and claws, they are also big enough to be used as a mount. By default, they are female and can reproduce.

~~~

The further adventures of Arden Villin!

Join him as he makes his way on his first date with his new girlfriend!

And stuff! Stuff is great!

Oh, and there's some Batman things too. Cause Batman gonna Batman.

Hope everyone enjoys this one... though this one is going to go on the buffer set for when this story gets a full thread. So no roll-over chapter just yet. Next up is more Mind Games this weekend! Thank you again for all your support!

Entrepreneurial Spirit - Chapter 6

“-now punch!”

Izuku surged forward at my shout, his glowing fist crashing into a stone wall and sending hairline cracks through the material. Steam was coming off his body, light wisps of vapor as he breathed harshly with the exertion. Walking up, I examined not only the damage, but also the boy's quaking form, his muscles tense and taught as he struggled to keep the stance I'd taught him.

“Relax,” I stated.

Instantly, the greenette sagged and managed a controlled fall to the floor, exhaling a cloud of hot mist. Still, his eyes were focused on the imprint of his knuckles on the wall in front of him, a wide smile stretching his cheeks to their limits.

“Not bad,” I praised – admittedly a bit backhanded – and walked up to inspect things more closely. “You're still not as efficient with the energy as you should be, it's bleeding into extraneous muscle and other tissues. That's what's causing the heat to build up like it is.”

“I thought you said some heat was normal?” Izuku gasped, and I snapped my fingers to produce a large container of water, which I handed over silently.

“It is,” I confirmed, “but there's a difference between some heat and being able to fry an egg on your bicep. The former will make you slightly uncomfortable in some environments, the latter will give you heat stroke and incapacitate you for days.”

“H-hai Sensei!” Izuku replied, then went back to chugging water.

“Overall, though, you're doing good. Nine months in and you're already at this level, that's above-average growth, at least,” I added, considering everything we'd gone through.

“I... I thought we'd get to more advanced reinforcement theory faster,” Izuku confessed, recovering enough that he was able to pull himself off the bare wooden floor.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I know you're enjoying being able to act out your All Might fantasies-”

The boy blushed even more severely than his temperature would indicate.

“-but we have plenty of time to cover all our bases before we move into more advanced theory. I want you fluent and competent in the basics before we even touch that, and that means practice-practice-practice!” I stated firmly, poking him in the forehead.

“Yes sir,” Izuku nodded, his eyes dipping as he took the light chastisement for what it was. “I mean... theory isn't bad or anything. It's all really interesting, actually! I never really even thought about metaphysics as its own discipline and the way it meshes with quirk-sciences from my world is fascinating-”

I grunted and nodded in all the right places for a few moments, then flicked his forehead again.

“Ow!” Izuku jerked, blinking at the twinge of pain before blushing again and slumping. “I was mumbling again, wasn't I?”

“While your tendency to spiral into subject-specific monologues is quite adorable,” I smirked, enjoying the boy's squirming, “we do have other things to do today, sadly.”

“Right! What's next, sensei?” He asked, eager for more work.

“Cool down exercises,” I advised him seriously. “I don't want your muscles locking up again like they did last week. After that I'll need your help behind the counter for a few things and then you're on recreation time.”

Like a bouncy ball, the boy's mood dipped again as his shoulders drooped. “B-but... I'm not tired at all! I could still do more work, or studying!”

I smacked him upside the head.

“We've had this conversation a hundred times and we'll have it a hundred more if we need to!” I shouted at the boy, genuinely irked. “Recreation time is recreation time! I'm not leaving you to brew broken bone juice on your own!”

“I still don't know what that even means!” Izuku whined piteously.

“It means I don't want you breaking your damn fool arms again practicing on your own!” I hissed with a scowl. “Now do your exercises, then clean yourself up, and I'll see you behind the counter.”

“H-hai!” Izuku squeaked weakly, and I shook my head as I trudged off.

That boy...

I'd say he wasn't as bad as I'd seen him in the anime, but in truth? Well, if anything, he was worse. I could entirely understand being the ugly duckling and not having a super power when everyone else around you did... then suddenly having access to not just a great power, but a power that had wide applications and scaled well in its development? Yeah, of course the kid would be eager to grow stronger and attain his dream!

“I just wish the little idiot would wait until he was in school before breaking his limbs,” I sighed, rubbing at my face tiredly. “At least then putting him back together wouldn't be my problem.”

“Oh-ho... sounds like you're having fun with your kid, at least.”

I rolled my eyes at the woman leaning over the counter and grinning at me. “Hello to you, too, Eda. I see you've shown yourself to the complimentary snack bowl.”

I eyed the much-diminished contents pointedly. “Again.”

“Hey, you leave out free food, don't be surprised if it gets eaten,” Edalyn Clawthorne smirked, one fang jutting past her lip. “Though I'd get something with a little more kick if you keep getting my crowd in here. Maybe a little sulphur or some nightshade? I had a little bit of that in the human world one time, it was pretty tasty.”

“I'll make a note of it,” I replied blandly. “Are you actually going to buy something this time or continue to freeload on my goodwill?”

“Hmm... I'll take... this...” Eda shrugged, picking up some of the hottest candy on the front counter displays and throwing it at me.

It was also cheap shit because I could never fucking move that inventory.

“Three snails,” I stated tiredly, snapping my fingers at her.

“Tch,” she clicked her tongue at me and dumped the living creatures her world used as currency into my palm. I grimaced, but dropped them into the cash register regardless. “Your exchange rate is shit.”

“Blame inflation, not me,” I sighed as she pocketed the candy.

“What, are you blowing up snails like balloons back there?” Eda asked, eyeing me oddly, but shaking her head and waving me off. “How's this work, anyway? You've conned enough snails out of my apprentice and her friends that I'm curious.”

I gave the woman a scowl and pointed a finger at her.

“I – DO NOT – CON.”

Eda's eyes crossed as she looked at my finger.

“I do not scam. I do not cheat. I do not short-change, swindle, defraud, or hoodwink,” I stated clearly and bluntly. “I am not allowed to do so, by the rules which govern the ownership and operation of this store. You should take care of your words, Edalyn Clawthorne, for I consider any aspersion upon the character of my trade to be a grave insult indeed.”

There was a faint quiver in the witch's heterochromatic gaze as she matched my own, a shiver that ran through her entire body.

“G-gotcha, Foxy,” she stated, her head jerking once in agreement.

I let my eyes linger for another moment, then relaxed my stance and turned back to my inventory work.

“So...” Eda drawled warily.

I snorted, shaking my head. “A big part of it is magic... or, well... what passes for magic, here.”

I gave a vague nod towards the environment around us and Eda frowned before thinking it over. “So it's like the Owl House, then? Alive?”

“From what Luz tells me of the place – somewhat, but not entirely,” I replied, a bit vaguely, then sighed at her insistent look. “The store's changed hands several times. I wasn't the first, I won't be the last. It's like the Owl House in that way, at least. Hooty's been there from long before your time and he'll be there long after you're dust.”

“Depressing, but true,” Eda shrugged. “How about something to drink, if we're getting heavy?”

“Hmm... how about apple cider with a nightshade twist? First one's on the house since I haven't mixed a cocktail like this before. You can be my taster,” I offered.

“As long as its alcoholic, I'll drink pretty much anything,” Eda shrugged. “Still, human stuff is always too thin for my tastes. Give me something with a real body, I say.”

Raising an eyebrow and deciding not to interrogate what context I was supposed to take the word 'body' in, I reached up and scratched my chin. “Do you like things sweet or sour?”

“Sweet!” Eda smirked, slamming a hand down on the bar. “As sweet as you can make it!”

“I'll start out with something more reasonable and go from there,” I hummed, reaching for the corn syrup and honey. If that didn't work, I'd go a little bit more exotic. There were plenty of magical bees and the like out there in the omniverse and I had pretty extensive collections of their creations.

“You were saying?” Eda prompted as I mixed the drink.

“Really not letting this go, huh?” I sighed. “It's complicated, but I'm as much part of the store as I am my own being. It's nothing like one of those 'I exist to serve the property' curses, but the store needs an owner. An operator. Someone to run the business housed within it.”

“Ahhh... it's like that, then,” Eda stated. “I've heard of something like that before. You probably can't leave, then?”

“Not until I find and train a replacement,” I shook my head. “But I got what I signed up for.”

“So if you don't con anyone, how do you decide what's a fair deal?” Eda asked.

I waved a sugar-coated spoon in the air at the room nebulously. “Remember what I said about magic? Well, while you're in the store, there are certain rules that even I can't break. One of those is that anyone who comes in here gets an honest deal as long as they deal with me honestly.”

“Lotta room there for interpretation,” Eda commented, drumming her fingers on the table as I finished off the mix and slid the drink to her. “Oooh, come to mama!”

She took a healthy pull from the glass, swallowed slowly, and then smacked her lips thoughtfully.

“So?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Not bad,” Eda stated thoughtfully as she swirled the thick liquid about in the glass. “Still not quite enough bite to it, though.”

“The taste or the booze?” I asked wryly.

“Hmm... booze,” Eda decided, taking another sip and rolling it on her tongue. “Definitely booze.”

I reached for the pure, uncut moonshine, then paused and pulled both it and a bottle of wood-grain alcohol out.

Look, don't ask. I got some weird customers and it was especially popular with dryads.

Filling two shotglasses, I pushed them both out. “I've asked around with some of the customers Luz has sent my way from the Boiling Isles and this is generally considered safe for witches and demons to drink. Which one do you prefer?”

“I make it a policy to never turn down a free drink,” Eda grinned, downing the moonshine first and blowing out a cloud of vapor I made sure I was distant enough to not inhale before shooting the other one back as well. “Woof! That's a winner! Second one, definitely! The first's better than I've ever had in the human world, I'll grant you that, but it's just...”

“Not actually poisonous,” I concluded glibly. “Yeah, straight methanol is poisonous to standard human biology. Alright then, let's try this one more time...”

“While you're doing that, explain how you... tell how much something is worth, I guess?” Eda asked, finishing off the imperfect cocktail I'd created. “However you know what to charge people is what I'm getting at. What's 'fair' and 'honest,' to you?”

“Determined almost entirely by gut feeling,” I replied, whipping up the drink faster this time. This time, knowing what I was doing, it came out cleaner as well, turning into some kind of dark mirror of a tequila sunrise. The color gradient shifted between black and purple instead of red and yellow.

“Really?” Eda asked, her golden eye's brow rising skeptically. “You're shitting me.”

“Nope,” I replied with a snort, sliding the drink over to her. “You know how things fall to the ground when you drop them? Fairness is kind of like that in this little pocket of reality. It's something that you have to try really hard to break and there are always consequences even if you manage to accomplish it.”

“And since you're tied to the store, your 'gut feeling' is actually magical instinct,” Eda surmised, taking a sip of her new drink. Then, as the flavor hit her tongue, her eyes widened. “Now that's what I'm talking about! It's not gonna' replace a tall glass of apple blood, but variety is the spice of life!”

“Happy to hear,” I smiled, “the next one will cost you real money. I think I'll call it a 'Methanol Sunset.'”

Eda winced, her cheer evaporating at that reminder. “Ugh, spoilsport! So I've seen you handle that green paper Luz and her momma use, some plastic rectangles, a few gold coins, and another thing or two besides. How's that work when you always have exact change?”

I reached out and patted the cash register. “Conceptual store of value. No matter what I put in, it gets converted into raw value. I can withdraw it in the form of any currency a customer perceives as having value. Even bitcoin.”

“Bits of coin? Like pieces of eight from that pirate movie Luz loves?” Eda asked. “Why would those be hard?”

I paused, briefly regretted my life choices, then shook my head. “Nevermind. It gets a little more difficult and abstract for goods used in barter, like rare art, gemstones, exotic flora and fauna, etc...”

“Well, at least you don't try to math it out. Ugh, formulas... they take all the magic out of magic,” Eda sighed, shaking her head and sipping her drink.

Then the door opened and a harried middle-aged man ran inside, ducking between the isles and diving into cover. Right on his heels, a trio of thugs hurried in through the open door, guns already drawn. The lead thug stalled out, looking around my shop. No prizes for what he was seeking, though.

“Greetings gentlemen!” I called out loudly, smiling a touch tiredly. “Welcome to Nova's! I'm Nova Sterling, the owner and proprietor-”

“Shut the fuck up, freak!” Lead thug shouted, shoving a gun in my face. “Someone just ran in here, where'd they go?”

“Violence is forbidden in my store,” I informed him tiredly with a sigh. “Now that you've been informed-”

Interrupting me again – which, rude – he reached out to grab at the collar of my suit.

I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers.

He disappeared.

“What the fuck?!” Thug number two cried, looking away from where he'd been creeping around, trying to find. “Where'd Jose go!?”

“Violence is forbidden in my store,” I repeated tiredly. “Now that you've-”

He pulled the trigger – well, he tried to – and I snapped my fingers again.

“Another one down, another one down, another one bites the dust,” I sighed, turning to the last thug. “Violence in my store is forbidden in my store. Okay, pattern recognition: yes or no?”

He twitched in a way that I'd long-since learned to associate with drug use of some sort and pulled his own trigger.

I snapped my fingers once more and he disappeared, too. “The answer is no, then. Awesome. Ugh, I hate it when that happens. Criminals are just so fucking stupid.”

“Where'd they go?” Eda asked mildly, her tone simply curious instead of worried or concerned.

“Processing,” I shrugged. “Once you're informed of my prohibition against violence, I can do basically anything I want to you if you violate it. I'll keep the organs in stasis in case someone shows up and needs a transplant, I generally charge less for that than cybernetics.”

“Good riddance to bad waste,” Eda shrugged. “You come into a place with guns drawn and ignore the warnings, you pay the price for that kind of stupidity.”

“Thanks for understanding,” I sighed again and adjusted my collar. “A lot of people freak out when they find out how I treat rule-breakers. Oh, and don't tell Izuku, I'm trying to slowly warm him up to the topic.”

“Don't have to tell me twice,” Eda groaned, finishing off her drink. “I love the kid to bits, but Luz hasn't quite internalized how silly the whole 'redemption' thing is in her books. Girl needs to learn that the only safe enemy is a dead one.”

“Uh... hello?”

Eda and I looked at the balding man stepping out from behind the isle. He was slightly pudgy, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt with an expression worn by constant worry. Of course, his overall appearance wasn't helped by the streaks of sweat on this clothing that had formed from running for his life.

“My name is Nova Sterling,” I repeated, desperately hopeful that the person running from the murderous assholes would be smarter than the assholes themselves. “Welcome to my store. It exists in between worlds. I sell magic and advanced technology and all sorts of cool shit. You're speaking American English, so you're probably familiar with Peter Pan. If you are, think of it like Neverland. Violence is strictly forbidden in my establishment.”

The man blinked rapidly at my quick rundown, but did not pull a gun and try to shoot me.

I took the victories where I could.

“Uhh... are Marco's boy's... gone?” He asked warily, looking around.

“Yes,” I nodded. “Very permanently gone. What is your name and would you like to buy anything?”

“What?” He blinked.

Eda snorted and clanked her glass down on the bar. “It's a store, toe-fungus. Are you a paying customer or a bum?”

“Ah...” The man looked me over, then Eda, and swallowed nervously. “This ain't like... those stories or anything where you ask for my firstborn, is it?”

“I have more than enough children here crawling around the store on a regular basis, thank you very much,” I informed the man, much to Eda's amusement. “I don't need any of yours. Now, do you have a name or do I need to give you one? Fair warning, if you make me get creative I will never acknowledge you by any other name than the one I give you.”

“Barry!” The man cried, raising his hands in surrender, then sighing. “Barry Seal. And... um, thanks for taking care of those guys. They were really out for my blood.”

“No problem Barry,” I replied and slid him a coke from behind the counter. “On the house for a new prospective customer. Wet your whistle and we'll see if I can help you, okay?”

“Thanks,” Barry nodded, exhaling deeply in relief and cracking the drink with the ease of long practice before taking a big slurp. “God, I needed that... this isn't going to cost me my soul, is it?”

It was telling that the man looked so resigned and tired that the question was only put forth with a feeble air of protest. I shook my head and leaned on the bar across from him. “No, that's complimentary, like I said. The quick version of things? I'm a spirit of commerce, buying and selling things, not a devil or a demon or whatever. I do trade in souls, but only upfront deals. Unless you're looking to sell, I'm not looking to buy. In the event you want to buy something, though, I take cash, credit cards, checks, and barter exchange for rare metals, valuable artwork, or the like.”

Barry twitched, then took another sip of his coke, “I'll... keep my soul, thanks. Though I don't have much money, the feds have frozen all my bank accounts.”

“That's not a problem,” I waved him off, opening my mouth to continue when-

“I'm all done washing up, sir!” Izuku called from the back room, his green hair making an appearance momentarily. “Hey Eda, how's Luz-oh! Excuse me, I didn't know we had a customer!”

“Hey, I buy things!” Eda spoke up, looking affronted.

The young Japanese boy opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, then turned to Barry. “Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Customer. Nova, I'll get to organizing the stockroom, if that's okay?”

“Make sure you handle the new potions we just got in carefully,” I cautioned him. “They aren't in the usual unbreakable containers. Just regular glass. I do not need you turning yourself into a frog or something.”

He winced and nodded. “I'll be careful, sir.”

Nodding at Barry as Izuku disappeared, I pointed a thumb over my shoulder. “Don't mind the kid, he's just part-time help.”

“Right, right... did he have green hair?” Barry asked, leaning over towards the doorway, then he shook himself. “No, none of my business. Anyway, you were saying something? About the banks?”

“You have your account and routing numbers?” I asked, and he nodded after a moment's thought. “Then I can access them from here.”

“I... don't think the banks or the feds would like that,” Barry winced, then laughed. “At least, not unless you can sell me an entirely new life.”

I hummed, tabulating costs in my head. “How much you got?”

Barry blinked, hesitating... then nodded. “Over five million. You can help me?”

“What year are you from?” I asked, pulling out a metal and gears contraption that passed for a calculator some days.

“Nineteen eighty-five,” Barry replied, the words spilling out of his mouth knee-jerk before he paused to consider what that meant. “Uhh... do I wanna know why you asked me that?”

“I'll let you know if it becomes relevant,” I promised him, then reached out and tapped the long slate at the other end of the machine from where I was entering numbers. “Hand here, please. Just lay your palm flat on it.”

“Oh... kay...” Barry muttered, doing so.

I hummed and finished out the calculations on the device. Five million was good news for him, especially with his world-line being what it was. He'd come from a mostly-standard USA and inflation hadn't hit things too badly yet. “Alright... so, here's the deal. I can work with this. First and foremost, do I have permission to transfer your funds from your bank accounts into store credit?”

“Sure,” Barry shrugged, “not like I'll ever see a dime of it anyway, given how long they want to put me away for.”

“Okay, service charge of a quarter of one percent comes out to a hundred and twenty-five dollars,” I warned him, printing out a quick slip and snapping a pen into existence. “Sign here, please.”

Barry, to his credit, read over the slip before signing it and handing it back. “Just like that? Magic and shit, I guess.”

“Magic and shit,” I confirmed. “The rules for how money works are a bit different when you come to me. In my shop, I don't acknowledge the laws of God or Man. So, metaphysically-speaking, as long as the money is in an account under your name or one which you – personally – have permission to withdraw from, I can pull it out and use it in any transaction you want.”

“Well that's certainly handy,” Barry commented, “and all the stories always said magic just caused more problems than it solves.”

“Oh, magic can cause you plenty of problems if you're stupid with it,” Eda chuckled, “and that's speaking as a witch, so take my word for it.”

“Damn,” Barry muttered, looking the admittedly strange woman over again, then looking me over. “Will this cause me problems? Like, nasty Monkey's Paw or genie-related ones?”

“A question far too few of my patrons bother to contemplate,” I remarked as I finalized everything. “The answer is a conditional no. The condition is that, if you legitimately want a new life, you have to break any and all contact with your old one until you die. That means no talking to friends, no contacting family, no taking a nostalgic trip down memory lane to your favorite childhood restaurant, and definitely no drunken benders where you become so inebriated that you decide to spill your life story to a total stranger who will contact the police.”

“That seems... oddly specific,” Barry observed. “Also, what about my wife and kids? Do I have to leave them?”

“In reverse order: no, as long as they're willing to abide by the same restrictions in starting over as well. If they aren't, though, then they become the children or husband of a dead man, effectively. It would, in fact, be arguably kinder on them to fake your own death – a service which I also offer, if you like.” I paused to hit a few keys. “Okay, transaction's done and I've got all your money in a store credit account. Now, as far as the drunken confession thing? Happens more often than you'd believe. Criminals can be extremely stupid.”

“I think I should take offense at that,” Barry noted, then winced. “I mean...”

Eda laughed out loud. “Relax... Foxy here and I had your number the moment guys with guns chased you in here. It's weird, but I've seldom met law-abiding citizens who have hit squads after them.”

“Ah... right,” Barry rubbed at his head. “Does that – I mean, are you okay with-”

“Considering I just violated probably a dozen federal laws to move your money for you?” I asked rhetorically. “Besides, I'm just making a guess, but people with huge amounts of money that get seized by federal authorities and are being chased by men with guns... that usually says 'drug-runner' to me.”

“It's nice to know some things don't change whether you're in the Demon Realm or the Human one,” Eda grinned. “Why, if I had a snail for every time the guard or the emperor's coven tried to stop me from bringing illegal potion ingredients into the cities... ha! That's some classic high-risk, high-reward stuff, human!”

“Thanks?” Barry asked, startled at the unexpected turn of events.

“And you're trying to get out of the life, so I'm fairly sympathetic,” I added, continuing as if Eda hadn't spoken. “If you were weren't trying to bail on the criminal organization that's inevitably trying to backstab you for cutting a deal with the police-”

“I was actually employed by the CIA,” Barry interrupted. “They kind of got me to run drugs and arms down to this dictator they were supporting and, to get the cartel's permissions, I had to run their drugs back to the states. Once everything went public, though, they burned me and left me out to dry with the cartels.”

“Oh, government corruption on top of smuggling, this is getting spicy!” Eda cackled.

“Yeah, look... the sympathy is encouraging and everything, but can we talk about that whole 'new life' thing?” Barry asked, a tad anxiously.

“Right, okay...” I reached down and worked my way through a few cabinets before I found what I was looking for and laid out a small stack of brochures in front of him. “I have four different plans for people looking to change their identities. The first is the bronze plan, it's the cheapest option, costs fifty-k, and includes an entirely new personal history backed up by real documents that will, themselves, be backed up in government records and virtually bulletproof to anyone at a passing or detailed inspection. The problem arises if they get access to things like your DNA, dental records, hair samples, or fingerprints. If that happens, they can prove that you and Harold Johnson from Bumfuck, Iowa are the same person.”

“And if I don't want that?” Barry asked, tapping at the bar nervously. “One of the more expensive plans?”

“Silver plan,” I nodded, pushing the second brochure forward. “One-hundred thousand per person, but in addition to everything in the bronze plan, I also offer some superficial plastic surgery and what's called a 'gene-scrambler.' It won't make you appear to be someone else, but the tests won't come back conclusively. Your prints will likewise be scrambled and I'll give you some light dental restructuring to make sure of that as well. Hair, similarly.”

“Gold?” Barry asked, fingering the next brochure.

“This is where things get a little more exotic and attend to the details regarding starting a new life,” I informed him. “Bronze and silver plans only cover the person who buys them, but I start offering family discounts at the gold tier. At this level of service, I'll secure you a new place to live – discreetly, of course – and provide you a new identity down to the genetic level. I'll also provide you with a set of new skills to go along with a new profession so you don't have to go straight back to your old one and possibly meet up with colleagues who could recognize some of your habits or quirks. As an ancillary bonus, I'll set you up with a few club and organization memberships in your new area that will flesh things out and make it easier for you to forge new social connections.”

“You said family discount?” He asked, rubbing at his chin.

“I did,” I nodded, “because I can go redundant on a lot of things, like the house and the background. It's easier weaving everything together when I don't have to do each and every single profile from scratch. So a lot of the extra work I do at this tier is doubled-up. I try to be reasonable and pass on that break to the customer with a ten-percent cut on the fees.”

“This, uh... platinum level offers the same discount?” Barry asked, looking at the final set of details.

“Yes, like the gold plan, this attends to a lot of the potential problems you face starting your life over, but this is where things get... exotic,” I warned the man idly. “That means magic and the extremely advanced technology being used on other people in mostly beneficial ways. Before we go any further, I should ask if you have any objections to that?”

Barry frowned and hesitated. “Can you give an example of what you mean?”

“Okay, you said you had a wife?” I asked, and he nodded. “So let's say she enjoys jogging, right? Just as an example. But jogging alone can be boring and a lot of ladies enjoy having friends turn exercise into a social activity.”

“Proud to be an exception to both rules,” Eda snorted, throwing another handful of free snacks in her mouth. “Exercise and society.”

“The peanut gallery aside,” I sent a mild glare at the witch. “I find a woman in your new area that could use a bit more exercise, wants to, but can't find the motivation. I give her body a little kick-start to get healthier so that starting out doesn't suck so much, and throw in some memories of her being friends with your spouse. Bam, she's got a new social connection, her new friend will probably live a decade longer with regular exercise, and this person will swear up and down that they've known your wife for years. In fact, you've lived in the area for a long time, you just had to take an extended business trip out of the country and just got back.”

“Damn,” Barry hissed. “That's tempting, but I don't know if Debby will go for it.”

“As part of the gold and platinum packages, I should also add that I throw in a genetic rehabilitation while I'm imprinting the new genes,” I commented idly. “It's easier to make someone look older, after all, but a lot harder to make them look younger. This is a step beyond even that, though, and will make you look and feel like you've turned back the clock a bit. Ten years for gold and twenty for platinum.”

Barry whistled appreciatively. “That's... a lot to take in, and I think it would probably get her to at least consider things...”

“The gold plan also comes with a free foreign language if you decide you'd be better off moving somewhere else. Not many people go for it, but I can make you look pretty radically different, such as changing your apparent racial characteristics at that tier. If you wanted to move to, say... Australia, I could make it look like you're half-aboriginal, for instance and give you the language to prove it. Platinum comes with two foreign languages and, in addition to that, I'll find a bunch of people in your new area to implant some harmless memories in that will give you a few childhood friends, people you know at the local pub, or work connections in your new field.”

“Five hundred thousand per person and a million per person, each...” Barry rumbled, looking at the pricing.

“With the ten percent discount,” I pointed out.

“I'm gonna' have to talk to my wife about this,” he admitted, rubbing his chin again, then grimaced as he looked back to where the door had closed behind the thugs. “Ugh, but going back out there...”

“How about I hook you up with a rental disguise field and some basic fake paperwork as a stopgap?” I asked. “I can do that for... say, five thousand? I'll throw in a cheap rental car for free as long as you get it back to me with a full tank and no damage.”

“You're literally a lifesaver, man,” Barry reached out and shook my hand. “Nova, wasn't it?”

“Nova Sterling,” I replied grinning, “now let's get you a doorknocker so you can find your way back here and I'll set you up with what you need in the short-term.”

~~~

So, little late on this one, but it's probably still the weekend somewhere.

I forgot my brother and his wife were coming in to celebrate her birthday, so that ate up some time and I had to go to sleep at a decent hour like some kind of respectable human being instead of staying up all night writing like usual.

Anyway! Hope everyone had a great weekend and enjoys the new chapter. For those of you curious, this chapter is based on the real story of Barry Seal. If you're looking for a cliff notes version of things, check out the movie 'American Made' that came out a few years ago documenting his escapades.

Next update will be Butler Boy!

Mind Games - Minor Edits to Chapter 39

What it says on the tin, basically. Nothing huge changes about the chapter, but one piece of feedback said that it might read better if there was a reminder about who Ami was and what her relationship with Toga is, since she hadn't been in focus for a while.

Also, embarrassingly, my copy-pasta cut off the last two lines of the update. Probably a result of posting immediately after a writing binge and being a little bleary, my bad.

I also fixed one or two errors in the text while I was in there, so it should read smoother all around. But that's it. One paragraph up at the top and two extra lines down at the bottom. Should be pretty easy to pick out the changes.

You may now return to your regularly scheduled program.

Mind Games - Chapter 39

Ami sighed as she sat down next to me, absently adjusting her long black hair over her shoulder. “I guess I should congratulate you, huh? You and Himiko got into UA. So... I guess you won.”

I reached up and rubbed my eyes tiredly as I stared at the people milling about in the shopping center. It was the same one Himiko had used as our first date, which felt like forever ago, but was just barely two months at this point. “I wasn't aware we were competing.”

Matsudaira Ami, one of Himiko’s friends and the one who had disliked me the most during that initial ‘fake date’ she and I had gone on. Also, likely the ringleader of the effort to follow us to ensure Himiko’s safety from the sinister mind-controller. Long black hair, classically-pretty features, and a generally pleasant personality. At least, that was the case if you weren’t dating the object of her affections and, to add insult to injury, happened to be male and thus capable of offering something that she couldn’t.

The girl who'd asked for the meeting snorted derisively and turned away. “Of course you weren't. You probably didn't even know I liked her.”

“I did,” I denied, making her turn back to me in surprise and growing offense. “Did Himiko?”

Just as it was building, that desire to lash out exhausted itself like air from an unknotted balloon. Her cheeks colored and her shoulders slumped. “I... was waiting. Himiko... she didn't seem to want to date anyone. I'm not sure if she knew that we – or at least I – knew she was turning most of her dates off on purpose... or, at least, we thought she was. Until you.”

I made a grunt of understanding, inviting her to continue. It was mildly surprising that they'd picked that up, but teenage girls were often hyper-aware of the chaotic network of relationships around them as they unconsciously jockeyed for social position. Besides, I didn't think they knew just how hard Himiko had 'turned off' some of her dates.

Particularly the one she'd mentioned leaving broken and bleeding when he'd not taken no for an answer, telling the story with all the air of a proud kitten presenting a dead mouse and expecting praise for it.

“I thought it was something with her parents. They were always pretty strict, and I knew it got to Himiko sometimes,” Ami continued absently, her eyes tracking various people around us but not really seeing them. “So I was waiting until high school to ask her out. I'd tried to talk her into my first choice school, but she was dead set on going to that weird finishing school her parents picked out. Guess I'm just lucky that I can still swap to where I really wanted to go.”

“No shade on that level of sacrifice,” I commented idly, “but going to a boarding school out in the boonies that won't give you the life skills you need for your career is a bit much when you don't even know if the other person likes you back.”

Another spike of irritation, then it mellowed to frustrated spite. “Gods... you sound like my parents. Besides, what about you dragging Himiko off to UA? Isn't that just as bad? What about what she wants?”

“She wants to be with me,” I replied bluntly, growing a bit irritated with this girl. Even if this mess wasn't her fault, there were lines I wasn't going to let people cross. “or she wouldn't have taken the entrance exam at all.”

“I'll bet,” Ami snorted, dismissing the rebuttal and looking as though she was going to get up and leave for a moment before lingering. “So you managed to carry her through the exam. What happens when she has to drop into the general classes because she can't cut it? You know she's anemic, right? How's that going to work with all the physical activity she has to do?”

Let's see... Himiko should only have a couple of days left at this point. What... two or three?

I ran through the probabilities, ghosted a metaphysical hand over the paths of fate open to Ami, and considered my potential replies. After a long moment of thought, I hummed.

“Do you know what Himiko's quirk is?” I asked the girl directly.

She blinked, frowning. “Cat's Eyes. It's technically a heteromorphic trait, but-”

I shook my head, feeling a vague sense of surprise and alarm nearby. “Those are what professional analysts call 'secondary mutations.' They're partially-recessive traits that get picked up from genetic inheritance, mostly from parents but occasionally from further back. They're essentially animal traits that entered the human genome due to heteromorphic quirks. Himiko, admittedly, has a much heavier load of them than most people...”

I held up a hand, folding out fingers as I counted under Ami's focused gaze, “Her eyes, obviously, but also her fangs and generally-sharper teeth, her flexibility, the strength-to-weight ratio of her muscles, and even her other senses... the combined effect is to essentially create a low-level secondary quirk which buffs the primary one. When I had my quirk assessed recently, they showed mine was similar... though my mutations are primarily up here-”

I tapped my forehead.

“-and pertain to the ability to handle non-standard sensory inputs, data throughput, and knowledge acquisition and development.” It was an interesting little factoid that, even if I'd had my body 'refreshed' by The Company, my brain was absolutely not human standard, even measured against this world's abnormal norms. Thankfully, it wasn't so weird that it rang alarm bells, but there were a lot of non-standard neurological and neurochemical developments.

“I... read something about that,” Ami muttered, “a journal article for science class or something. What's her quirk then? And why should I believe you?”

There was a quiet panic off just out of sight, but I ignored it.

I rolled my eyes. “Her real quirk is 'Transformation.' It allows her to consume human blood and use it to fuel a transformation into that person's physical appearance. Her parents were strict with her because they thought it was abnormal and shameful to have their daughter consuming blood. The problem is that her systems actually require blood to function at higher levels of exertion. If she's not able to take in blood of some type – human or animal – then she'll develop symptoms not unlike anemia.”

A slow, dawning horror shown through Ami's gaze, tears slowly welling up at the corners of her eyes.

I pulled out a small towelette and handed it to her, looking away as she dabbed at her eyes.

“Why didn't she tell us?” Ami asked, her voice rough.

“You and your friends provided Himiko with a shield of normalcy in her day-to-day life,” I explained bluntly. “Explaining that she wasn't normal would put that in jeopardy. To Himiko, it's better that you accepted a lie than rejected the truth.”

Ami breathed in harshly, “So she thinks that little of us.”

Yes, she does. I'm pretty sure she hates you, in fact. Really and truly hates each and every part of you.

“Your presence in her life is a comfort,” I stated, also telling the truth of Himiko's complex and fractal emotional landscape. “If your priority as Himiko's friend was to make her feel accepted and part of a group – a normal girl – then you succeeded completely and utterly.”

Ami sniffled a bit more, blowing her nose. “You're a real jerk, you know? Saying something like that right after you tell me I don't even know one of my best friends. I'm supposed to be mad at you for stealing her away from me.”

I hummed. “Tell me, do you know why you're here, Matsudaira-san?”

She turned to look at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I... was kind of hoping to yell at you a little? Make myself feel better, I guess? No offense.”

“Some taken,” I replied with the slightest bite to my response, making her wince. “But, no. You're here because Himiko has been bragging about me to your friend group, am I correct?”

She nodded, clearly not understanding where I was going with this.

“Himiko baited you into confronting me because, coming from a very traditional household, she wants me to have an outlet for any frustration I have with her.” The very beginnings of shock flashed over her features. “She wants me to, essentially, seduce you so that – were I compelled by my baser instincts to cheat on her – I would do so with someone she knows and trusts instead of a stranger who might try to put an exclusive claim on me.”

Even if the word 'trust' here is being applied in a way you aren't likely familiar with.

After all, one could 'trust' in the heft and sharpness of a blade or the functionality of a firearm just as much as one could trust in a person or organization. But where the latter example involved allowing the individual or group to work in their own way in their own manner... trusting a knife didn't turn it into a hammer. Knives cut, stabbed, and carved, that was all they did.

Ami had been Himiko's friend for years. At this stage, my girlfriend knew each and every button she needed to push to get the response she wanted.

Matsudaira Ami would forever be Matsudaira Ami, in other words.

“But... Himiko knows I like girls,” Ami muttered, confusion and disgruntlement at the idea of pairing us together obvious on her face.

“The enticement to accept would be me offering liaisons with Himiko,” I stated, trying not to sigh at how willfully oblivious the girl was being.

Ami's face turned a fiery red. “I-bwuh, bu-bu-but... ya-you can't be serious!”

I snorted as her volume spiked, drawing the gazes of curious and disapproving passersby as the girl clapped her hands over her mouth.

“You've got to be joking!” Ami hissed, leaning over to me. “She would never-”

I pinned her with a sharp gaze, quieting her. Holding up a single finger, I stood and walked around the corner of the record shop into the small service alleyway and taking the wide-eyed blond by the arm before dragging her out to the bench and plopping her down like a sack of potatoes. Himiko's eyes flicked between my dully gaze and Ami's shocked one, the look of a caged animal on my girlfriend's face.

“I am not angry,” I started, watching her muscles relax at that. “I am, however, disappointed that you didn't think to discuss this matter with me first.”

Himiko's head dipped. “S-sorry, Dear.”

Ami's eyebrows rose at the endearment.

Still standing over her, I nodded. “Apology accepted, but your punishment is going to be having a talk with Ami and giving her the explanation you've been avoiding. You saw fit to make decisions about her life without her input, even if they were well-intentioned, so you obviously need to understand that isn't a suitable strategy going forwards for this kind of situation.”

The emphasis on the final few words was subtle, but more than enough for Himiko to pick up on and wince. It was one thing, after all, to try to set your boyfriend up for a booty call with a friend, but that wasn't what Himiko was doing in this instance, regardless of what I'd told Ami. Or, rather, that wasn't all Himiko had hoped to accomplish.

I'd run the terms of my new Contract by her, after all.

And Ami wasn't without her charms.

Himiko's shoulders drooped and she began pushing her fingers together anxiously. “Y-yes, Dear.”

I grunted, then turned to Ami and bowed slightly. “I'm sorry to impose on you, but please give her a chance to explain herself? She's been brought up in such a way that the idea of a mistress is not uncommon. This was simply the easiest way to accommodate both your desires and her own.”

“I, um...” Ami took a deep breath and nodded. “I'll try.”

I nodded at them both. “Alright. I'll be in the music store if you need me.”

And with that, I walked away from that mess and into the welcoming arms of another round of record shopping. Admittedly, Jiro didn't seem all that impressed by the fact that I totally ignored her expectant stare as I walked through the doors, moved past her without acknowledgment, and made a bee-line for the ultra-classic rock.

Sadly, my peace only lasted a few minutes.

“You know... I really thought you were two-timing that girl for a minute.”

I looked over to the punk-rock teen, her asymmetrical haircut oddly balanced by the tilt in her head as she watched me. The apron wrapped around her, just like last time, marked her as an employee of the store. “Is it the owner's policy to investigate relationship drama in customer's private lives?”

Her face colored and she looked away. “I'm trying to apologize, you ass. I listened in on your conversation with her because I thought you were cheating on your girlfriend and was going to tell her about it because that kind of shit pisses me off.”

I hummed in acknowledgment. “Fair. It pisses me off, too. For what it's worth, at least.”

She was quiet for a few moments, long enough to allow the silence to become awkward. “I, uh... didn't expect... all that, though.”

I chuckled, the reaction only increasing her blush. “Given that you were listening in on a private conversation... and what I can guess your quirk is, I don't think you have grounds to complain about what you overheard.”

“I-I wasn't complaining,” Kyoka muttered, her posture signaling... I narrowed my gaze slightly. “I just... your girlfriend actually wanted to hook you up with her friend? Her friend who's a lesbian, from what I heard?”

“That's pretty much the situation,” I nodded.

Kyoka's mouth opened and closed silently. “How does that... work?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, when a man likes a woman-”

An earphone jack lanced out at my shoulder and jabbed me. “Not that. Ass.”

I chuckled again, enjoying the blush on her face. “Sexual orientation is a lot more fluid than you probably believe.”

She gave me a wary and distasteful look. “Is this going to go into one of those macho rants about how she's never had a 'real man' and would 'change her mind' once she got into it? Cause I can ban you from the store.”

“No, nothing like that.” I shook my head and looked over the album in my hands before placing it back where it had been. “You're talking about converting someone from one sexual orientation to another, and that doesn't actually work. At least, not without extremely morally-dubious brainwashing quirks.”

Or a binding, but that's right out as an option.

“Okay...” Kyoka nodded slowly. “So, what are you talking about?”

“Expansion of a person's sexuality, rather than conversion,” I replied, scanning another album for a list of songs and putting it into the small stack I had going. “You're familiar with the concept of a 'strike zone,' right?”

Kyoka blushed slightly, but nodded. “People you find attractive, right?”

I hummed in agreement. “Those are the people you know you can find attractive. Your 'type,' if you will. That doesn't mean you can't find someone outside of that grouping attractive, just that you're not automatically inclined to do so based on your preconceptions.”

“And you think you could widen her 'strike zone' to include guys?” Kyoka asked, snarky disbelief coating her tone and smirk.

I raised an eyebrow at her and shifted.

My posture straightened, the placement of my feet changed... then the way I held myself, the inclination of my head, the tiny muscles around my eyes, the focus of my gaze. I added a hint of aggression, just a tiny bit of dangerous spice to the entire thing, like I was contemplating pinning her to a wall but had yet to make the choice. Then, as Kyoka was still trying to understand what was going on, I took a single step into the bubble of her personal space and lowered my voice an octave or two, the thrum of a deep bass in the shop's music harmonizing with my changed voice.

“What do you think?” I asked in a low rumble, the cadence of the words matching with the rock-metal atmospheric piece playing softly in the background.

I could feel her heartbeat speed up as her eyes widened and a shiver shot up her spine. “Wh-wha-what-ah...”

Then I rolled my neck and relaxed, sliding back into my normal, casual stance with a single shrug. A hint of a grin caught my lips as I went back to studying the record jacket I'd picked up, a trace of smug satisfaction creeping into my voice, “Yep, still got it.”

“Holy-shit-what-the-fuck-” Kyoka muttered as she shook herself, her eyes flashing around the lightly-populated store to check if anyone had seen that. Her father, at the register, gave her a nod and a wave, which she returned... if a tad shakily.

“What was that?” Kyoka asked, huffing slightly and... panting?

Damn, I am good.

“Me entering your strike zone?” I asked in my characteristic dull monotone.

“Y-you c-can't just...” The punk girl began. “That's just manipulation!”

“Yep,” I nodded, taking her off-balance again. “Hence why I was upfront with Ami about what Himiko wanted to do-”

I glanced through the front windows where I could see her and Ami hugging it out.

“-because expanding your strike zone – your type – is something that should only be done voluntarily.” Kyoka cocked her head, trying to understand me and put me in one of those little boxes people had for their friends, acquaintances, enemies, and weirdos they should avoid on the trains. “Being good at manipulating people makes that caveat all the more important.”

I paused, hesitating. “Unless you're a villain, of course. Then it's open season.”

Kyoka opened her mouth to reply, then shook it off again. “You are like... the weirdest dude I've ever met, you know that?”

Considering the usual state of people in general...

“I'll take that as a compliment,” I shrugged.

The punk girl rolled her eyes, chancing to look out the window where she could see a visibly-disappointed Himiko nodding despondently. Ami, on the other hand, looked... tempted, but resolute, was the best way I could put it.

“Looks like you aren't getting your threesome,” Jiro hummed, and I wondered if it was just her ability to read basic body language or if her hearing was good enough that she could pick up traces of the conversation at this distance.

“It's not about the sex,” I sighed and shook my head, stacking my finds together and tallying them up in my mind before weighing the possibility of grabbing a few more. I knew they had Meat Loaf somewhere around here... “It's about finding a compatible relationship partner who will put up with both Himiko's weirdness and my own.”

“I've heard guys who think they're smooth say things like that before,” Kyoka muttered, looking me up and down. “So you're just going to let that chick go because she said she didn't want to be dicknotized into liking guys?”

“That's very much not what I said,” I replied, moving to another bin and deciding to find those records after all. “But, yes, I'm 'letting her go.' I'm acknowledging her refusal of an offer of a potential relationship and respecting her right to self-determine. It makes me concerned that this seems to be an alien concept to you.”

Kyoka flushed and snorted, then shook her head. “I've just never met a guy who doesn't go for it when he's obviously got enough game to handle shooting his shot.”

I hummed in response, not feeling the need to condemn what were probably stupid kids trying to get laid. They'd learn, or they wouldn't. Sex wasn't everything.

“So you're not pissed at your girl?” Kyoka asked, picking up the conversational ball once again. “That she tried to manipulate you?”

“Heh... no, I'm not angry at her,” I snorted slightly. “I'm just a little disappointed. If she really wants to lead me around by the nose, she'll have to try harder than that.”

Kyoka stared at me for a long moment. “You're talking about this like it's some type of weird game you two play.”

“More or less,” I confirmed with a shrug. “We each try to arrange things so that the other person gets what they want. It's like... setting up traps to make each other happy. Something like that, at least. I'm winning, of course.”

Kyoka snorted unexpectedly, grinning at my smugness. “Of course, right... you're an expert at manipulating people and not just some hot shit dude out to get a second girlfriend.”

“I can see that you don't believe me,” I noted absently, finding the last album I wanted and stacking everything together.

She shrugged. “I think you've got game, no shade. But the way you're blowing yourself up? Yeah, right...”

I hummed, nodding. “Alright... here's a hypothetical, then. My girlfriend's bestie who has the hots for her calls me up and arranges a meeting. I choose somewhere public so that we have plenty of witnesses if things go south and one of us gets upset at the other. There's this shopping center where I've taken my girlfriend for a few dates. That sounds like a great place, right?”

Kyoka blinked, nodding slowly. “Okay... so you've got half a brain.”

“Now, I know what my girlfriend is setting up, so I know she's going to be there to watch how things go,” I continued as if she hadn't spoken. “I can tell at a glance that she really doesn't like me and doesn't care for the idea of a relationship with me, even if she gets to be close to my girlfriend in exchange. And, sure, I think I can 'fix that,' if I really tried, but beyond the ethics of the situation, it'd be a lot of work to even get her civil with me on a regular basis. Too much of an uphill battle, so no thanks.”

“Maybe more than half a brain, if I'm charitable,” Kyoka shrugged with a smirk.

“But here's the thing...” I stated, cutting a glance at her. “Why would I guide her to a bench in front of a store that I've taken my girlfriend into multiple times? Especially with someone who has an enhanced hearing quirk?”

Her sly expression evaporated, replaced by confusion.

“I mean, it's almost like I wanted to be overheard and confronted about my intentions,” I chuckled with another shrug. “Since my girlfriend has this little obsession of hers with finding someone she can trust to take care of stress when she's not around... well, there's this cute girl working at my favorite music store. She's nice enough, once you get past the snark, but explaining this whole mess... man, that'd be awkward. If only there was some way to let her in on what's going down without making myself look completely insane and a perv.”

Kyoka blinked rapidly, opening and closing her mouth rapidly like a fish out of water.

Then I tucked my set of albums under my arms and walked away... for about five steps before Kyoka caught up to me, tried to speak again, and had nothing come out again.

“Ah, my favorite customer,” Jiro Kyotoku laughed, nodding at his daughter. “I hope Kyoka helped you find... Kyoka? You okay?”

Jiro sputtered helplessly, her brain still stalled out.

“I told her I liked Marvin Lee Aday more than Prince,” I interjected with a smirk. “I think she's trying to figure out where she can hide my body.”

Kyotoku chuckled, the age lines on his face from a life of rock and roll and moderate drug use, disappearing with his laughter.

“Prince was an icon!” Kyoka hissed out, her earlier revelation forgotten. “Meat Loaf was a great singer, yeah, but there's no comparison!”

“Too busy enjoying myself to worry about being wrong,” I riposted with a grin as Kyotoku rang things up, then paused.

He snapped his fingers and reached behind the counter. “Oh, right! These finally came in. Now, they were part of a limited run, so they're pricey just like I warned you...”

I grinned as I looked over the albums and CDs. “Those too, please. I think Himiko's going to love them.”

Kyoka paused for a moment, staring at me before looking across the store at the window where the two girls were saying goodbye to each other. “You know... if you'd told me that Ms. Perky-Cute over there was into any sort of metal before today, I'd have laughed at you.”

“I recall you did laugh at me when I asked you to place the order,” I replied.

“But,” Kyoka stated firmly, ignoring my riposte, “after today, I think I'll buy it.”

I snorted, thanked Kyotoku and made my way towards the door.

“Wait,” Kyoka called, stepping outside with me, then grimacing. “...were you serious? About...”

She jerked her head towards Himiko and Ami.

“As serious as you want it to be,” I nodded at her. “If you'd prefer this all to be a joke, you can laugh it off now and forget about it. But be prepared for Himiko to make a bid for you to get involved.”

“Really?” She asked, her dark eyes flicking towards the somewhat subdued blond girl.

“Really,” I nodded. “It's too soon to say if anything between us would work, but Himiko knows I think you're cute and that's enough justification for her to at least try, now that I've turned Ami down.”

I paused as Kyoka blushed.

“Or Ami turned me down, however it works,” I shrugged.

“Hi-to-shi!” Himiko called, latching onto my arm and pouting at me. “That was mean! Meanie! Uncute meanie!”

“I thought he did a pretty good job, myself,” Ami stated, then reached over and flicked Himiko's forehead. “Don't whine about taking your medicine, Himiko-chan.”

“Owie,” the blond muttered, her shoulders drooping as she leaned against me.

Kyoka, meanwhile, was biting her bottom lip as she watched the byplay.

“Anyway, I've got to go,” Ami sighed, looking between myself and her friend. “Remember, we're having that party at my house on Sunday. You're going to be there, Himiko. No backing out.”

The blond released another whine as I chuckled.

When we got back Home, I'd explain things to her and she would understand. Those girls probably wouldn't be long-lasting friendships given they weren't all going to the same school, but Himiko was going to become a professional hero. Even the mediocre ones had pretty thorough biographies available and their childhood friends were often interviewed as a result. Given that I expected Himiko to make quite the splash at the sport's festival, as far as a bare minimum performance... not to mention what would happen once word really got out about Endeavor's interns...

Well, the uncomfortable sacrifice of a few personal details right now would turn her into a sympathetic and tragic figure in her friends' minds. That was as opposed to allowing her to keep her secrets and turning those friendships into bitter memories of people who'd been lied to and tricked by someone they considered a friend.

I flipped out a business card and passed it to Ami, who took it reflexively. “Call me if she's a no-show, I'll drag her there myself.”

Ami snorted at the pathetic noise Himiko made and walked off, but at least she put the card in her pocket and didn't trash it.

“I want ice cream,” Himiko demanded. “With sprinkles. And gummies. And cherries and strawberries so that everything turns sweet and red.”

“Yes, honey,” I replied obediently. “I even got you a gift in the music store.”

As expected, the girl perked right back up. “Ohhh! Present! I want it! Is it cute!?”

“Ah...” Kyoka interjected. We both turned to her and she blushed under the attention. “S-sorry? Th-that things didn't work out, I mean?”

Himiko stared at the girl for a second too long, then smiled. “Ooooh! She's a little cute... hmm, I like her! Hitoshi gives the best presents!”

I sighed and looked heavenward for aid, nothing of the like materializing.

“Gah!” Kyoka sputtered, taking a step back. “He bought you music! Music! That's the gift!”

Himiko blinked, cocking her head cluelessly. “Hmm... that's what I meant, though? I was just saying I liked your style. What did you think I meant?”

Before mortification could properly set in, I looked Kyoka in the eye and shook my head definitively. There was no winning this confrontation for her. It was best to make a tactical retreat and disengage to form a new strategy.

“I need to get back to work!” Kyoka announced, turning and power-walking back inside her parents' store.

“So she's the one?” Himiko asked excitedly, looking at the door Kyoka just entered.

“If she wants to be, yes,” I nodded, because there was something... off about that girl. Something interesting. Especially since she'd gotten past the point where most sane people would turn and run – usually screaming – when confronted with that level of weirdness. I was a long way off making the judgment about offering her a binding, like I had Himiko, but...

Her body language hadn't indicated the usual revulsion most people would display at being so profoundly manipulated without their knowledge.

If anything, she'd seemed...

I shook the thought off and wrapped an arm around Himiko, guiding her outside Kyoka's range. “Because I'm not going to try and trick anyone into accepting a relationship with me. I'm going to be upfront about it, just like I was with you.”

Himiko drooped a bit and pouted as we walked towards the ice cream parlor. “But... it would have fixed everything! Ami gets a boyfriend so people who don't like girls dating girls aren't mean to her and she can be with me so that she's happy too! And Hitoshi gets another cute girl!”

I grunted. “We're going to need to have a long discussion about how integral to their person-hood many people see their sexuality, Himiko. It is not acceptable to modify that trait without their informed consent.”

“People are dumb,” Himiko pouted bitterly. “They're all tricking each other anyway. Pretending to be what they're not. Liking girls, liking boys, liking both, not liking anyone... it's all the same thing. You just pick one that will let you fit in where you are. Like cute outfits! Oooh! I saw a really cute thing Hitoshi should buy me!”

I allowed Himiko to change the topic for the moment, as we ordered ice cream. The tables were too packed to have a private conversation as we had while walking in the busy crowd surrounded by ambient noise. Someone could easily overhear us now.

Regardless, I'd need to explain to my girlfriend once again that personality traits weren't like clothing to most people.

It was something I knew she understood intellectually, but looked down on most of society for as an irrational refusal to conform to social situations.

Honestly, I'd settle for her just not trying to trick any more of her friends into taking a binding.

Before the conversation could continue, though, I heard a chime from my phone and glanced down at it before double-taking in surprise.

‘Hey, dude!  Just got an internship offer!  With Nighteye!  So freakin Manly!  Woo!’

~~~

Well, congrats. This chapter ran long, but was easy for me to write. Hitoshi/Himiko shenanigans usually are, and this is a chapter full of them.

Also, Himiko being lowkey horrifying again, which is fun.

Oh... results from the top-tier poll. So, counting the vote on Subscribe Star, I've got a tie between Entrepreneurial Spirit and The Hand We're Dealt. Three votes each. So one of them is getting an extra-long chapter and the other will get a normal one.

I'll have something, probably one of those, out over the weekend.

Hmm... anything else? Nope. Enjoy your Wednesday? Or at least try to. Half-way to Friday!

The New Ron - Chapter 43

“I can't believe we had to help Drakken and Shego escape!”

Kim groaned, flopping back on her bed and rolling around in a fit of frustration and disbelief.

“Ugh! I feel like I need a damn shower after that!”

Me?

I was pacing.

“What's up, Ron? You'd usually be complaining right along with Kim,” Tara spoke up, shimmying out of her dress enticingly.

Normally, that would have distracted me, but now wasn't the time.

Rufus scampered up my leg as I walked by, crawling up my body to the crook of my elbow and looking me in the face. Or, rather, trying to. I was staring past him at the image burned into my mind of Bowman flying off in that stealth ship. A stealth ship that looked a lot like Wade's, if he'd had a decade to develop it along with a few more iterations to test on.

The naked mole rat made a concerned noise as he tugged at my sleeve, but my mind was preoccupied.

“Got a better idea,” Archer yelled, fiddling with the device. “How about I give you a bigger mess to clean up, KP?”

“Got a better idea,” I said aloud, drawing attention to myself. “How about I give you a bigger mess to clean up, KP?”

“Ron, you alright?” Kim asked.

“Yeah, Stoppable, you spaz out on us?” Bonnie asked, having re-entered the room at some point and I hadn't even noticed. That was sloppy of me. Kim's attic stairs weren't exactly the quietest things in the world unless you knew where they squeaked and groaned.

I pulled out my communicator.

“Hey Ron,” Wade replied to the screen booting without glancing at my feed. “What's up? I've got a new scanner to prototype. Don't wanna get caught with my pants down again by that... jerk.”

Despite myself, I snorted. “You know you can curse, Wade. Neither Kim or I are going to tell your mom.”

Wade rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah... don't wanna get in the habit, though. Now, my vocabulary aside...”

“Do me a favor and pull all of the audio files we have of Bowman and do an analysis of his voice, diction, and that sort of thing?” I asked.

“Ron?” Kim asked, frowning.

Now, Wade looked at me, pausing in his typing. “Okaaaay... I'm going to assume you're going somewhere with this and not pulling one of your jokes.”

“Thanks,” I nodded, rubbing at my chin as I sat down.

“Hmm... okay, files are pulled and I'm running the analysis,” Wade stated, “what do you want me to do with it?”

“Compare it to the records you have of my own voice,” I stated.

I felt the attention of the rest of the room rest heavily on me.

Wade blinked, “Uhh... alright?”

Rufus squeaked loudly in puzzlement.

“Uhh... what's going on?” Tara asked quietly, leaning over to Kim.

“I'm not sure, but I think Ron's figured out something,” Kim replied in an undertone.

“...and, huh... it's a match,” Wade stated. He stared at what I presumed to be the results on the screen. “It's a really close match. Ninety-five percent.”

“Yep, thought so,” I nodded, reaching up to take Rufus and drop him off on the bed gently before handing my communicator to Kim and turning to grab one of her pillows.

Then I screamed into it as loudly as I could.

…

Kim rubbed her temples as I finished my explanation.

“Ron, Bowman – Archer – is not you from the future,” Kim groaned.

“I-is that a thing that can happen?” Tara asked, looking between myself and Kim from where I lay one the bed and our mutual girlfriend as she paced where I had been before.

“Yes//No.”

Kim and I looked at each other, both frustrated. Though, as usual, hers was a higher-energy irritation and mine was a tired and angry one. “Ron-”

“He called you KP,” I replied, letting my eyes slide up to the ceiling. “Who else does that? Your brothers, maybe?”

“So he heard you say it and copied you!” Kim argued back, waving a hand dismissively.

“And the vocal analysis?” I asked. “This guy doesn't just use one word the same as me, he uses ninety-five percent of them! Same inflection and everything!”

“So you talk alike!” Kim stated, throwing her hands up in the air. “Even if I can't think of one, there has to be a better explanation than he's a time traveler!”

Bonnie, who'd disappeared briefly downstairs, came back with her hands full and dropped to sit next to Tara. “Here, T. I'm not watching this without popcorn. What'd I miss?”

“Not much, basically just a refresher on everything that happened,” Tara shook her head and paused. “I've never seen them like this.”

“Because you never liked watching people fight,” Bonnie replied with a snort. “Kim and Ron got into some epic... well, not really brawls since they never hit each other, but they were kind of like cat fights between girls.”

Kim and I, as one, turned to glare at the blond and brunette.

“Quiet in the peanut gallery, okay?” Kim asked bitingly.

Bonnie smirked at Kim, silently miming zipping her mouth shut, locking it, and throwing away the key. Then, to add insult to injury, she threw some popcorn into her mouth.

Kim took a breath and turned back, sighing. “Where were we?”

“I was about to bring up the fact that his stealth thing looks a lot like Wade's flying shuttle, but with a serious upgrade,” I replied.

“Right,” Kim sighed, closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them with that green fire burning behind her eyes. “Please tell me you've noticed that most planes look alike, right? Two wings, a body, some flaps on the sides and tail? They look like that for a reason, Ron. Someone building a shuttle that looks like Wade's is basically just an accident of design.”

“Okay, fine,” I gave her a pair of Jazz hands for lack of anything else to do. “Each individual point might be something you can dismiss, but what happens when you take all of them together? What do you get, then?”

“A lot of coincidences!” Kim cried back, aggravated again and now fully committed to the argument once more. “Just because you have a bunch of coincidences in a row doesn't make them not coincidences!”

“He's out-planning us at every turn!” I palmed my face. “He knows our every move, KP! How about that? On top of everything else?!”

Kim made an aggravated sound and stomped around as she growled at nothing for a few moments.

“Hey, keep it down up there!”

-crunch, crunch-

Kim scrabbled at her hair, running her nails across her scalp and messing up her usual style. “Sorry Mom!” Then she turned back to me. “That's because you've been airing all of our old fights on the internet! He watched them and learned all our tricks!”

“I didn't show off all of our tricks!” I replied with an expressive wave of my hands. “Wade and I edited all of that footage! It took forever, too! We only showed off what a bunch of news stations already had, and maybe a little extra, but it was from our point of view so it was more thorough. Putting everything in would be a total waste!”

-crunch, crunch-

“That still doesn't mean he's a time traveler! There's got to be another explanation, Ron!” Kim argued staunchly. “Maybe he's a clone! We've done clones before, haven't we?”

I waggled my hand. “Like... once? With Dementor? And they weren't very good. Like, he made them out of potatoes and they were a little overcooked and sludgy instead of actually looking like us, remember?”

“Okay, but that's proof of concept!” Kim shook her hands. “Clones are more likely than time travel!”

“They're both equally unlikely!” I nearly shouted back. “And therefore equally likely! It's completely arbitrary that you're willing to suspend your disbelief for someone getting clones to work and not time travel!”

-crunch, crunch-

“Well, why are you so sure that it has to be time travel!?” Kim replied loudly, throwing her hands up again.

“Because if I went evil, this is totally what I'd do!” I confessed, dropping my head into my hands.

Kim was quiet at that.

“Ron?” She asked quietly.

I rubbed at my face. “Look, it's been eating at me, okay? Why he's here... and not you.”

Kim sighed, looking away and snorted. “You were war-gaming being a villain? Should I be worried.”

“It's just... there's the name he's using, too,” I continued, disregarding the question for now. It'd probably come back to bite me later, though. “Archer. I think it's more than just the fact that he uses a bow and arrow. There's this obscure character from a Japanese game I was looking at playing if it got ported... It's... long-winded and weird, but the 'archer' in the game is kind of a time traveler. Weird magic time travel, but it's still basically the same thing.”

“Ron... I want to believe you, but you're really stretching things here...” Kim sighed tiredly.

Then her Kimmunicator beeped and her shoulder slumped as she pulled it out. “What's the sitch, Wade?”

“Uhhhh... so I called in a pair of favors and got two different police sketch artists to do the job, just like you and Ron agreed on,” Wade began slowly.

“And the age regression looks nothing like Ron, right?” Kim asked, smiling smugly towards me and turning back to the small screen.

There was silence on the other end of the device and Kim's smile slowly drooped. “Wade, tell me you're joking. Please.”

-crunch, crunch-

“Okay, so there's some wiggle room,” Wade cautioned as my own communicator beeped and I pulled it out. “Because he does wear a mask, if not a particularly good one. But there's certain things about bone structure, fat deposits, and general skin pigmentation that you can't fake without a lot of effort. And tapping a few mad scientists on the side for good measure.”

I sighed and nodded at the results displayed to me. “Yep.”

“So he could be faking it,” Kim argued, her voice coming out a whine as she gripped both sides of the kimmunicator tightly.

“It's... possible-” Wade's voice paused. “No pun intended, but really, really unlikely. And, even if he was, for the sake of argument, sporting a mask on top of one of the world's best plastic surgery jobs for some kind of double-fakeout... what's the endgame here, Kim?”

“To trick us into wasting the effort of looking for a way to beat a time traveler?” Kim asked.

­-crunch, crunch-

“Hey, Ron?” Tara interjected gently, drawing my eye to where she and Bonnie were camped out on Kim's beanbag chairs and slowly making their way through a bowl of popcorn. I gave Rufus the evil eye as he chewed through a kernel the size of his foreleg on Tara's lap. “Can we see the pictures, please?”

I sighed and took a step over to hand my copy of the device to them.

Bonnie stared at the drawings for a moment, then glanced up at me. She blinked, did it again, then looked at Tara. “Holy shit, T.”

My girlfriend nodded slowly, obviously comparing the age-regressed sketches we'd had done to my own face. “Wow... that's... a lot closer than I thought they'd get.”

I grimaced and nodded, turning back to where Kim and Wade were trying not to argue.

“-and, again, I feel weird agreeing with Ron on this one, but that ship does look like my tech. Which, yeah, you have a point about convergent evolution of design elements, but personal style and design philosophy plays a role in how your plane comes out, too.” Wade sight. “Any aviation expert will be able to tell a WW2 fighter from a Vietnam-era bomber, for example.”

“And you're suddenly an expert on aviation,” Kim stated sourly.

“Nooo,” Wade droned, obviously trying to contain his temper, “but I am an expert on the stuff I build, and that stuff is custom. I'd really, really like to be wrong here, Kim, but even if Ron and I are, I still want to find whoever built this guy's tech because every time I look at the footage we've got, I see something else they cribbed from my designs.”

“Okay!” Kim shouted, throwing the kimmunicator onto the bed in surrender. “I'm not saying I believe this is what's happening, and I won’t until I see a time machine in action – because time travel is a level of weirdness my life is not ready for – but I'm clearly being outvoted on this. If we're going to have this conversation, though... Ron, why are you evil and traveling back in time in the future?”

The words looked like they physically pained Kim to say, but she looked at me expectantly as she crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, so I might not have gone evil.”

“I swear to god, this is better than any soap opera,” Bonnie muttered, shifting in her bean bag chair.

“Shut the fuck up if you want to keep your teeth, Bonnie!” Kim barked out, keeping her eyes on me.

Bonnie blinked and Tara stared, both of them going wide-eyed. The brunette opened her mouth, then closed it, obviously thinking better of herself. Rufus, squeaking in fright, dived for cover behind Tara's pajama pants.

“So...” I began again, slowly, as I internalized how angry Kim was at all this. If she truly didn't believe it, she regarded it as nonsense and a waste of time. Kim hated wasting time, possibly more than anything else. On the other hand, if Kim was just actively choosing to not believe without proof, then time travel was something both outside of her worldview and outside of her control. Which, if there was something that Kim hated more than wasting time, it was not feeling in control of a situation.

I cleared my throat and started again. “So... like all good nerds, I've contemplated what I would do if I had access to time travel and the best answer I've come up with is not to do anything and try to stop anyone else from doing anything, either.”

Kim blinked, taken aback and losing a shade of her anger. “Okay, not what I expected. Why's that?”

“Because time travel is inherently unpredictable and dangerous,” Wade picked up and I shot finger guns at him as he projected his holographic image into Kim's room. “Changing something small, even delaying a person leaving their house by a few seconds, might cause or prevent a car accident which could drastically change multiple peoples' lives and butterfly out the effect from there.”

“And that's bad,” Kim nodded slowly.

“That's bad,” I confirmed, “because you might cause or prevent or change who's born once that chain of dominoes is set in motion.”

“The exception is if we're in a universe – or multiverse – which allows divergent timelines,” Wade chimed in, snapping his fingers and modifying his hologram to produce a single horizontal line before splitting one off diagonally and continuing it further. “This is basically the only way to ethically time travel, because it doesn't actually change the past, it just creates a new timeline and the people living in it don't know the difference.”

“And both of you know this,” Kim looked between the two of us, “and have obviously thought long and hard about it.”

Kim paused, narrowing her gaze at us.

“For some reason.” Her look was tinged with disappointment. “That I can't comprehend.”

“It's a guy thing,” I stated defiantly. “Also a nerd thing, but more of a guy thing. That and thinking about the Roman Empire at least a little bit, every day.”

“Wait,” Wade blinked, turning to me in surprise, “you do that, too? I thought it was just me.”

“Nope, it's basically every dude in western civilization,” I shook my head.

“Really?” Wade asked skeptically, then cocked his head. “Because I have some thoughts-”

“I changed my mind,” Kim interrupted, stepping between us. “Somehow time travel has become the less disturbing of two topics in that last thirty seconds. Back on topic, please.”

“Later,” I stage-whispered to Wade, who nodded seriously, then turned back to an utterly exasperated Kim. “So, yeah, Wade and I know about the ethics of time travel. Which means that, if Wade is still working with future-me and either providing him with tech or gave him a loadout to take into the past, then that's what we're dealing with.”

“And if it's not...” Kim asked cautiously.

Wade and I both flinched, but he pressed forward. “Then, estimating Ron's future-self's age, if he traveled back in time and effectively reset the timeline, he would have wiped potentially billions of people out of existence when he changed the timeline.”

Kim's jaw dropped, but I picked it up before she could muster a response to that bombshell.

“That's the reason why there are only a few legitimate uses for time travel or excuses to actually take a trip through time,” I explained. “One of those being that everyone who would have been wiped out would die anyway.”

“How would-” Tara asked, sufficiently alarmed to speak up.

“Standard global catastrophe,” Wade stated.

“Artificial intelligence situation,” I nodded.

“Nuclear or biological warfare,” Wade replied.

“Alien invasion,” I riposted.

“Stellar impact event,” Wade smirked, pointing at me.

“Global climatological collap-”

“Why are boys like this?” Bonnie, of all people, groaned, her head flopping back in disgust as she refused to look at us.

“Wade's agreeing with Ron and I'm agreeing with Bonnie,” Kim muttered, rubbing her forehead. “Maybe the world really is ending.”

“So, um... you think Future-Ron is here to save the world?” Tara asked, looking like she was trying not to say someth- “Oh, and my favorite is always the supervolcano.”

As Tara blushed, Kim and Bonnie gave her a look of such utter betrayal, that I had to smother laughter. Wade, from the looks of it, did too.

“Look, I'm not going to tie myself to an idea too hard,” I warned them, “but both times we've had to deal with Archer he's been forcing us to team up with Drakken and Shego, as well as stealing Drakken's inventions for himself. So...”

I looked at Wade, who grimaced and nodded.

“Fill the rest of us in?” Kim asked.

“It means that he wants you, Ron, and Wade to get used to working with your enemies,” Tara stated, throwing popcorn in her mouth as she nodded thoughtfully. “Probably so that you'll be able to work together if something bad happens. Meanwhile, he's either building a stockpile of tech to use here and now, or sending stuff back to his own time so that they can use it there.”

“How do you people know this stuff?” Bonnie demanded, looking between the three of us.

Tara huffed smugly. “You're the one who never wanted to watch sci-fi movies when we got together.”

Kim took one look around, then shook her head and threw her hands up one final time. “That's it, I'm done for tonight. Ron, if your future self shows up, you're responsible for handling him, I'm checking out of this weirdness. Someone put a rom-com on before I scream at a pitch only dogs can hear.”

~~~

Alright! Cracked the code for this chapter and I'm overall happy with it!

Yes, for those of you who guessed Adrien J. Bowman's true backstory and identity, this chapter is dedicated to the fallout of that reveal.

And Kim is just... done with this bullshit.

Bonnie is too, especially after the unexpected betrayal.

Thank you for your patience and support, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Next up is more Mind Games.

Mind Games - Chapter 38

“-and I'm sure we'll all wish Shinso Hitoshi-kun the best in his endeavors at UA next year,” my homeroom teacher stated grandly, smiling widely.

The eyes of my classmates were wide, vacant with disbelief and shock, as they stared at me.

Which, you know... fair.

From their point of view, I was the weird kid with a villain's quirk that had no friends, barely said anything, and didn't even join a club. It wasn't exactly that I was anti-social, given I would entirely interact with other people when called upon, speak regularly to any teacher or staff that I needed to, and even occasionally hand out advice if I overheard someone with a significant life problem. It was more like I was asocial, in school at least.

I just didn't feel the need.

And, no, it wasn't because I thought of the other kids as 'Extras' or 'NPCs' ala Bakugo or Shigaraki respectively. In fact, I could list out the entire roster of kids I'd been going to school with for the last several months, not just my homeroom, and give details on their home lives, personal habits, and academic performance that they would probably consider extremely creepy.

And oh the things I could tell them about their parents.

Just... blackmail material for years. All sorts of interesting little skeletons buried back in those closets they'd done their best to forget about. Why, I'd even made the decision to refrain from telling two from entirely different households that they were half-siblings. I might yet let them know, though, given they were best friends and the knowledge might strengthen that bond instead of destroy it.

But, yes, the point was that each of them was a person in their own right. A slightly neurotic, self-obsessed, teenage person... but I tried not to hold that against them.

They just weren't all that interesting unto themselves.

Admittedly, I'd amused myself by playing a few games with them, here and there, shaking the rust off my manipulation skills by resolving an argument over a girlfriend that had been cheating on two boys at once and outing her and her girlfriend in reprisal, for instance. Another one I'd saved from financial ruin by discreetly hooking their single mother up with a secretarial job at another hero agency. Fuyumi had found that both endearing and a little frustrating given the boy wasn't even an acquaintance of mine. In fact, he'd been one of the ones to routinely tell me how awesome my quirk would be at villainy, but... well, this was middle school and social interactions were expected to be clumsy at best.

The only real instance of serious crime was a mid-level executive I'd found who was embezzling from his company, but... eh, they were one of the infamously awful 'black corporations' of Japan and I didn't really blame the guy. I'd actually sent him a GTFO letter before blowing the whistle on the whole thing by a series of anonymous tips at certain media outlets.

The entire thing had been an interesting experiment in how each one of them responded to corporate malfeasance.

“No way!”

“The class freak is graduating early!?”

“Whoa, that's awesome!”

“YOU CAN DO THAT?!”

“That's not fair!”

“How's that supposed to be okay! He barely participates in anything!”

“Lame! His channel's a joke, anyway.”

That last one was from someone I knew had their own internet side-hustle going on and was probably a bit salty over my success.

“But he's got a mind control quirk!”

The class went silent at that, eyes flicking between me and my accuser. It was one of the more popular girls in class, who was also one of the wealthier ones. She'd been – by far – the most interesting member of the group. I'd enjoyed throwing the occasional wrench into the gears of her plans to humiliate this girl or take advantage of that boy after screwing up his existing relationship.

Discretely, I reached into my pocket and activated my phone's recording function.

“There's no way he can be a hero!” Intelli Tenshi cried, slamming her hands on her desk as she stood up. “Think of the message that sends to aspiring hero students if they accept someone like that!”

Punctuating the declaration, she flipped the long curtain of lavender hair over her shoulder.

Yes, in case anyone was wondering? One of her cousins.

All the arrogance, twice the shallowness, five times the 'mean girl' attitude.

“You're free to take up your complaints with Principal Nezu at UA,” I stated bluntly, making her flinch back. The activation requirement of my quirk wasn't exactly a secret since I'd gone to primary school with most of these kids – or kids from other classes in my year – and word had gotten around.

“Don't speak to me, you freak!” She shouted back, her eyes narrowing. “You're lucky I've tolerated you even breathing the same air as me, but if you've forgotten your place, I'll be more than happy to show you!”

“Ms. Intelli! That's quite enough,” Mr. Suzuhara called out, recovering from his stunned state and – wonder of wonders – coming to my defense...

Well no, that was unfair. I'd never asked the man and I knew how hard it was to pay attention to more than twenty screaming brats at the best of times. Until I made myself his problem, he'd simply take my silence as a sign that at least one student in his class wanted to quietly learn instead of disrupting his lessons and starting shit.

“If you continue with this, you'll be sent to the front office!” The teacher threatened, giving a severe gaze around the classroom. “Honestly, I'm ashamed of this behavior! You were just informed that one of your classmates has been accepted to a prestigious school! You should be happy for them! Congratulating them! Not... this!”

I cleared my throat. “It's alright, Sir. They're probably just surprised.”

Suzuhara gave me a look like he didn't want to let this go, like he'd only just realized exactly how bad he'd done by me and wanted to make it up...

Or, well, that was me taking a peek behind the curtain, oops.

In the end, though, societal momentum quashed the momentary impulse and his shoulders slumped. “If you say so. Still, this was just meant as an announcement. The entire thing has already been finalized. Shinso-kun will be formally recognized at the end of year assembly-”

I kept the wince from my face.

Intelli's expression went slack with malice.

“-so that everyone will know why he won't be enrolling for next year's classes. Shinso's final examination scores have been nothing short of exemplary, as has his coursework for most of his scholastic career. His acceptance letter from UA was a glowing endorsement.” The teacher continued, driving home each point in my favor. “You should all strive to follow his example, not tear him down out of envy.”

With that, class continued and, during break, I jumped out the second-floor window to get away from the sudden flurry of attention directed my way.

Of course, none of that wore away at the feeling of Intelli's eyes boring into the back of my skull.

I didn't need to be a psychic and a mystic kung-fu guardian of fate to know she was going to be trouble at that point, that just helped confirm it.

…

And I was right, despite the amateur-hour bullshit she threw at me. Intelli Tenshi was a problem I'd need to deal with, if only on the level of a persistent pebble in my shoe.

She showed some basic-bitch cleverness, though, trying to get me alone with someone during the school day. More than once, I'd hopped out a bathroom window to avoid one of her male stooges trying to corner me to pick a fight or some other juvenile way to get me in trouble.

Honestly? I should have just let her have it. I really should have.

The guys she was using were low-performers with social problems she'd conned into helping her on the promise of getting them dates. Even with an arranged witness or two, their word against mine wouldn't be the silver bullet the girl seemed to think it would be.

Because the principal desperately wanted the bragging rights that came with a UA student emerging from his school.

Several years back, we'd had one end up at Ketsubutsu, and there were a few every year who made it to the second or third-string schools in at least the general education track, but we'd never had a UA graduate on the alumni rolls.

The absolute best case for her accusations would be for the principal to 'take them seriously,' order an investigation, mull over the evidence, and then-

Oops, Hitoshi's already left for UA! Too late to do anything about it now!

Then quietly bury the entire thing.

But if that happened, I'd have to sit down with Fuyumi and she'd give me that concerned expression, and I'd have to convince Himiko not to shank some bitches or ruin their lives, and that would be aggravating.

And I probably shouldn't mention that playing keep-away for the next few days was at least slightly amusing. But... the game had to end at some point, and I needed to clean up one last mess before I left the school anyway.

The first clue that the day wasn't going to be normal was when I received a mass email under the guise of a school notification. In it was contained a single picture of one of my juniors, sitting in a karaoke lounge with a number of other people around her. None of them were caught fully in the frame of view and the girl was obviously the target of the shot. For a picture shared between friends, it could be described as 'enticingly raunchy' given the way the girl's skirt was rumpled, a bit of panty was showing, and her blouse had been opened up to show she wasn't wearing a bra.

Nothing explicit, but enough to publicly destroy the reputation of the girl in the photo.

“Dude, Shinso! You see Megumi's pic?” Pikku asked, leaning back in his chair and looking over his shoulder at me.

“Yep,” I nodded, waving my phone slightly before going back to typing.

“Man, people are saying that was a party with some older kids that she got paid to go to,” Pikku grinned lecherously.

“Compensated dating isn't a crime,” I replied dryly, flipping back to the picture to double-check my analysis of it. “Though the karaoke place could press charges for indecent behavior.'

Which, again, not an actual crime in and of itself, but there were a lot of public statutes that prurient behavior in a public establishment would breach. I hadn't particularly made that a priority for my personal studies, though, so I couldn't quote you chapter and verse.

“Nah, that's not the thing... it means she'll take money for doing stuff,” Pikku nudged my desk.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Prostitution is actually illegal-” Even if it was widely practiced in modern Japanese society. “-and as a prospective hero student, I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear you conspiring to break the law.”

I raised my eyes up at his paling face.

“Dude.”

He jerked at my deadpan bruh-ism and nodded jerkily, chuckling as awkwardly as he could. “R-right! Sorry, man... I just – oh crap, I didn't finish my homework last night!”

It wasn't really the prostitution that bothered me. That would be an awfully fragile glass house to live in given my side gig. It was the predatory nature of his desire to take advantage of a girl who had suddenly become widely-known for being easy if you had money. Granted, the people I worked for were scum, that's true, and I was scum by association, but there were lines and limits of common decency.

I hummed as I received a text back.

'Hitoshi, what the hell?!'

I frowned for a moment and continued the conversation.

'Sorry, just have a bad feeling I'm about to be accused of sexual assault.'

'Are you going to explain that?!'

'Stream's up. Private, of course. Got Sato Kenji with you?'

'He's exactly as alarmed as I am, yes. He's here. What's going on?'

I snorted, then grinned. I knew I'd pay for it later, but still...

'I'd suggest popcorn and snacks with your favorite drink. Also have the principal's number ready for when I get done.'

Looking at Fuyumi's response, which was just shy of a real curse, I knew that I would indeed pay for that later. Still, I closed my texting app and moved back to finish my analysis before-

“Ah, Shinso?” Mr. Suzuhara asked, taking a step over to my desk with a concerned expression on his face. “The principal would like to see you in the conference room by the music hall.”

I smiled and tapped a few keys, sending the report off to a secure server.

Just in case.

“Of course, sir,” I nodded, rising from my desk. “He probably wants me to help him figure out who spread that picture around the school.”

There was a tense anxiety in the man that suggested a denial of my assessment, but he kept his suspicions private and the class around us began buzzing with subdued discussion. Walking me to the door, he caught me by the arm before I could leave.

“Hitoshi, before you go...” He began, looking down the empty halls in a paranoid fashion.

I hit the button to start the stream and slipped my phone into the outer pocket of my school uniform's blazer. The one good thing about these outfits, in my opinion. “Let me guess, it has to do with Intelli not being in her seat this morning?”

Suzuhara froze like a deer in headlights. “How did you-”

“Don't worry about it,” I waved him off. “Just understand that she probably won't be coming back to class today. That's what happens when you lie to the administration.”

The teacher seemed to buoy slightly, nodding. “If you think you have it under control, then...”

Deep inside, there was a ball of anxiety from the part of me that was tied to the original Shinso Hitoshi. I was essentially living his worst nightmare right now, after all. I hoped surviving it would put that to bed permanently, though. Or at least make the shouting voice of paranoia quiet down a few decibels, I could live with either outcome.

Nearing the door to the conference room, I tapped the lens of my phone's camera. “Remember, wait until my signal to call.”

I opened the door and slouched into the room, giving it a once over.

Intelli was sitting at the table, looking up to throw me a venomous look that was equal parts hatred and victory. Crying into her shoulder was the girl from the picture, Megumi. Next to them was a man who was doing his best to look utterly outraged, his arms folded over his chest, Mr. Kinosuke of the science department. Also on their side of the table was a police officer, in uniform, standing with a hand on the crying girl's shoulder, who snapped an angry and disgusted look at me the moment I stepped into the room, looking as though he'd like nothing more than to leap over the table and beat me down.

The principal sat at the head of the long conference table, adjusting his tie and mopping up his forehead with a tenugui – a traditional Japanese cloth rag one kept for just that task, among other things. In a society as cleanliness-focused as Japan, one always had to have something on-hand, just in case.

“Ah, Shinso! Just the young man we wanted to see!” The principal smiled anxiously. “Now, there have been some accusations-”

“Let's get this over with,” the cop snarled, stepping around the table and pulling out handcuffs. “Shinso Hitoshi, you're under arrest for villainous use of a quirk ability to-”

“Now wait just a moment!” The principal shouted, panicking as he saw his golden goose on the chopping block. “We agreed to discuss this matter first!”

Intelli's smile widened, vicious and victorious.

I held up a laminated card in front of the cop, stopping him in his tracks. “I'm afraid you'll have to contact the HPSC and get their internal affairs division out here to do that, officer.”

The noise in the room felt as though it was sucked out through a straw, everyone stopping in place.

“That can't be real,” the officer stated, looking from the ID to my face repeatedly before snatching it out of my hands. “It's fake. It has to be!”

“What's going on? Just arrest him!” Mr. Kinosuke stated, slamming his fist on the table.

“Police officers can't arrest an individual with an active duty hero license in good standing with the HPSC,” I told the teacher, Intelli and Megumi freezing as I revealed that tidbit. “As a matter of Japanese law, the arrest of a hero requires either another hero to attend and verify the charges or an HPSC IA personnel field agent.”

“So what? It's not like you're a hero! You just got into UA!” Intelli cried, pulling away from Megumi to lean over the table.

I shrugged. “It's not a field license. I can't use my quirk in combat with a villain in public or anything, no. But I'm a certified hero for classified research purposes, behind the scenes stuff, and acting as support personnel.”

Kinosuke and Intelli's eyes widened, both opening their mouths to shout at once while the principal looked a constipated mix of relieved and confused.

“Enough!” The officer shouted, looking up from his smartphone as he slid the laminated card back to me in disgust. Looking around to the rest of the room, he held up a hand. “I have to make a call to get someone down to arrest this bastard, his license is in the database and you can't fake that.”

Before anyone else could speak again, I began. “You sure you want to do that, officer? It'll look even worse for you when an HPSC rep gets here and you have to tell them you wasted their time with an innocent person and a false accusation.”

“A false accusation!?” Kinosuke shouted, waving a hand towards Megumi. “We have ample evidence that a crime has occurred and multiple witness testimonies that you were responsible for it! You used your quirk to force this girl to prostitute herself, admit it!”

I sighed and walked around to the conference room's wall mounted TV and turned it on before taking my phone out and hitting a few buttons to link the systems, then putting it back in my pocket.

“Okay, so here's the problem with your assessment of the situation, Mr. Kinosuke,” I began as images popped up on the screen. “Officer Nasu,” I addressed the policeman, “I'm guessing they told you that your niece's photograph was taken sometime in the last two weeks, correct?”

“How did you-” He began, but I waved him off.

“You have the same hair color, facial structure, a similar enough build even accounting for sexual dimorphism, and there are a number of other indicators. It was either uncle and niece or cousins, I went with the higher-probability guess,” I replied. “Now, photo. Last two weeks, correct?”

He nodded dumbly as I saw Intelli stiffen in alarm while Kinosuke went cold in the corner of my vision.

“Right, so – pro tip here – if you're going to use a photo like this, clip the metadata before sending it out,” I advised them, reaching up to point at that part of the television. “You can have this independently verified at your leisure, but this was taken over three months ago. For the sake of being abundantly clear, they probably also said it was taken nearby. Presumably I lured her to a local karaoke bar from either school or a train station or conbini, correct?”

The officer nodded again, his anger cracking as he looked over the other evidence on the screen before turning to his niece. “Shiori... what's the meaning of this?”

Panic blossomed across her face as her mouth opened and closed. “U-uncle I-I didn't mean to-”

“Shut up!” Intelli hissed, turning to scowl at me. “Don't think all these fancy terms and computer stuff will convince anyone! Everyone will know you're guilty when they hear what your quirk is!”

“Bigotry doesn't become you, Intelli,” I stated, then turned back to the television's big screen. “Okay – location. So, whatever happened took place three months ago and two prefectures over. Nowhere near here. I'd have to check for an alibi, but since this happened on a Sunday, I'll probably have something. I'm usually at home with my dad or streaming on-camera during that entire day.”

“So this entire thing was just an attempt to frame you?” The principal asked, looking around the room with a scowl. “Kinosuke! I thought you said these allegations were credible when you brought them to me!”

“He lied to cover up his part in things,” I interjected, keeping the teacher from speaking. “Mr. Kinosuke is the faculty sponsor for a popular social sciences club. The membership of which is exclusively female. He's been cooperating with Ms. Intelli to operate an off-the-books compensated dating ring using his club to select appropriate candidates. Ms. Intelli leveraged her fast-learning quirk to handle the coordination with the clients and Mr. Kinosuke uses his quirk – Image Alteration – to create the initial blackmail material for those students who are uncooperative.”

Yes, apparently someone had ‘Photoshop, The Quirk.’  I know, I’d needed a moment, too.

“A very creative story,” Kinosuke stated, scowling at me and trying to hide the panic I could feel swimming behind his eyes, “no doubt one designed to take the pressure off you given you’re in such a compromising position.”

I gave the police officer a look.

This fucking guy, right?

I sighed and pulled up a new set of information. “Okay, if you insist. Here's another pro-tip for an aspiring criminal. Make sure all of your co-conspirators and blackmail victims have their social media profiles set to private.”

The man locked up as several group chats were highlighted with his name as a recurring feature, some of them talking about who he was getting Intelli to set them up with, whining about the take he was collecting from their pay, and others cursing him and trying to find a way out of his schemes.

I looked him in the eyes. “Teenage girls do not practice the best data security, I've come to find out over the past month of this investigation.”

A heartbeat passed and he jerked to stand, his chair shooting back across the floor with a squeal.

“Please, try to run. You'll make my day.” I grinned at him. “Or you could tell everyone exactly who enabled the use of the school’s mass email system to send out that photograph in the first place?”

“What's wrong WITH YOU PEOPLE?!” Intelli shouted, standing up with a deranged and manic gleam in her eyes. “Who cares about those stupid girls! They were just stepping stones! The real criminal is right there!”

Obviously, she pointed at me as she shouted, already breathing harshly.

“He's just like his Mother! She puppeteered an entire group of people to rob a bank back when we were in elementary school!” Intelli continued to shout. “Do you have any idea what it's like going to school with a monster like that!? Waiting, day in and day out for him to finally snap and make us all commit crimes for him!? He should be locked up right along with his villain mom!”

It was one of the few times I leaned on Ranma, my soul icing over as I refused to let the reaction from that leap out and turn this petty little child into a spray of red paint on the wall.

“Megumi,” I stated instead, looking to the shocked girl who was staring at Intelli like she'd never seen her before. Her eyes snapped to me. “Lying to a police officer is a serious offense, especially with a false accusation like this on the line. My advice would be to get your uncle to help make a deal. I saw your posts. You're just as much of a victim in all of this as I am.”

She took a breath, nodding. “Okay, I-”

“Don't say a word!” Intelli screamed, clamping a hand over Megumi's mouth. “That's his trap! That's how he uses his quirk! If you say-”

“Unhand my niece this instant, young lady!” Officer Nasu finally snapped out of it, storming over and yanking the lavender-haired girl off her feet before beginning to cuff her. “I've heard more than enough! You're both coming with me!”

Intelli gave one last keening cry, then went limp and collapsed against the officer, her eyes going vacant. I nodded at the man. “I'll have my agency send you a copy of my report in full by the end of the day, officer. Ultimately, it will be my superior's decision on whether or not to pursue disciplinary action over jumping the gun like that, but I'll recommend they go as light as possible. Manipulation like this isn't something they train you for, I don't believe.”

The cop took a shuddering breath, then looked to Kinosuke with another pair of cuffs. “Thanks kid. And... sorry about that. I bought into the story, you know? Certain types of quirks.”

“Just be more careful next time,” I assured him, making a note to look closer at his career now that he was on my radar. My real recommendation to Fuyumi would depend on what I found there. I turned over to the principal. “You'll be receiving a call in just a few moments from Hot Ice, the Endeavor Agency. She'll be discussing the proper procedures with you when a student is accused of a serious crime, sir. I'd recommend listening to her very attentively, because this was one hell of a hatchet job you just set up.”

Thankfully, Fuyumi managed to pour most of her anger into that conversation and could only muster a tired exasperation and disappointment for me afterwards.

It probably didn't help that I'd properly filed the investigative paperwork with the agency and no one had apparently noticed.

But at least my last week at the school ended with a bang.

~~~

Last chapter with Hitoshi at middle school.

Shit goes down.

Next chapter will be some Himiko/Hitoshi shenanigans and then we're at UA! Woo!

Hope everyone enjoyed this one. Next up is... I'm going to try and get that New Ron chapter out again. No promises, but I'll have something out over the weekend, at least.

Thank you once again for your support!

Butler Boy - Chapter 7

The precepts of my new life were as follows:

1. Stay under the radar for as long as possible; more time to grow means a stronger debut,more experience with my powers, and being in generally fewer life-threatening situations.
   

2. Get stronger by doing stuff to get more gacha tickets to get more powers/skills/etc...
   

3. Brainstorm ways to accomplish #2 without violating #1.
   

4. Don't Be Evil (Practice conduct that mitigates harm and promotes the preservation and betterment of life while aligning with all previous rules).
   
   

To that end, I'd used the last bit of my enforced vacation to carefully think over what I could do, what I should do, and decide which was which.

The first problem I'd run into was the realization that there were some important events coming up that I couldn't, in good faith, ignore. Moreover, it would be hard to live with myself if I did.

In particular, I'd looked up the Flying Graysons on the still-young internet.

Using KordSRCH.

Because KordTech had bought out Yahoo and rebranded the search engine and email system.

The important part was that I'd searched up the Flying Graysons and found the schedule for Haly's Circus. I now had a choice to make, something that I'd been trying to avoid by remaining in ignorance for these past few years. In practical terms, I didn't have much information that could really help a lot of people, but Dick Grayson was such a staple in so many continuities that it was one of the few things I felt truly confident in predicting.

I hadn't exactly been able to root through the GCPD's files, but I was savvy enough to find a few headlines detailing Tony Zucco, too. Which only firmed the resolve to do something in my mind.

It was a big choice to make, to interfere in that destiny.

Dick Grayson, Robin, Nightwing, and finally Batman...

It would change things irrevocably.

But, as I looked around the small sandy shoreline of the river near our house, flames manifesting around my arms, I knew that – eventually – I'd change things to that degree anyway. My mere presence in the timeline was disruptive now. And... I couldn't lose sight of the reality of the situation. The choice I needed to make wasn't about 'maintaining the timeline' or anything like that.

It was whether or not Dick's parents deserved to be saved.

And that wasn't a choice.

“Lookin' good, squirt!” Algie called from the other side of the river, lounging in a pair of rolled-up pants with his feet dangling in the water. “Your clothes aren't even burning this time!”

I gave him a deadpan stare, then willed my flames into a giant middle finger.

Algie snorted, cracking up and almost rolling off his rocky perch into the chilly waters. “Finish up, though! We need to get back!”

“Just gotta' try one last thing!” I replied, and took a deep breath.

There were scorch marks on several patches of rocks and sand that I'd used for target practice, making passable progress on my accuracy while doing so. I wasn't terrible, but I wasn't great either. My natural fluency with my power aside, I clearly needed more experience. Thankfully, I was able to quench the few pieces of brush that had caught light while I was practicing.

But now... it was the moment of truth.

Flame wrapped my body, the aura of heat feeling soothingly warm to me instead of the scorching heat I knew it to be. I held my hands out, palms down, and focused. Twin lances of fire streamed down from my hands, pointing towards the ground. I felt the force of the energy I was generating begin to move my hands.

“Okay... going to start off nice and easy... just don't be Tony Stark,” I muttered to myself, flexing my bare feet and allowing the flames to cover me from head to toe. “If I start going out of control, aim for the water.”

“Whoa – Holy Shit!” Algernon cried, watching me slowly rise off the beach on plumes of fire beneath my feet.

The sand beneath them turned orange, then red, and started to go molten as I turned up the intensity of my flames. Feeling my feet leave the earth under my own power for the first time, though... that was...

It was something I'd never forget, I knew that instantly.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the mental iris holding back the bulk of the power and slowly ramped it up. Unlike the heat, this saw more immediate effects as I slowly crept up into the air. Dialing it back just as carefully... saw me stop and hold position. That was something I needed to remember, too.

Gravity is still a thing, I'm just being a criminal and breaking its law. Stop breaking the law and that bastard will bring me back down to Earth.

I turned up the thrust again and started moving in a slow circle around the river, uncertain whether I should try to do too much more. After a few minutes, I took one last quirk rise into the air, then began to cut my thrust while I was over a sandy section of shallow water.

My flames cut out and I dropped into the chilly pool, meeting my brother's wide-eyed gaze with a matching one. “So, yeah... I can fly.”

He grinned like a loon and whooped, the sudden noise sending birds flying from their perches as I trudged out of the river, my legs shaky from the adrenaline rush. Not, strangely enough, the exertion. I could feel... something in the back of my mind – soul – that told me I had a lot more in the metaphorical tank to use my powers, but my physical body was still underdeveloped.

Something to work on, then.

“Fuck yes you can!” Algie cheered, coming up to me and wrapping me in a one-armed man-hug. “My little bro can fly! Holy shit!”

The excessive cursing was a mark of just how excited he was.

“And you didn't even burn your clothes off this time!” Algie cheered, pulling me into his side tightly. I twitched at the reminder, my gaze flicking over to the charred remains of another outfit. Thankfully, I'd had the foresight to dump anything important beforehand, wear disposable clothes, and bring a full change just in case.

“I thought we agreed not to talk about that,” I grumbled, though the smile wouldn't quite fade from my face.

Algernon just laughed and ruffled my hair.

…

The scout meeting hadn't been anything to write home about, but it was enjoyable enough. Irritatingly, I'd had to hide in the trunk of Mom's minivan under a blanket to fool the last few reporters lingering for a glimpse of me. I really hoped they got the message that I wasn't going to give an interview anytime soon and gave up.

“-yeah, but I don't get why, you know? You could be on the news!” Mike Grissom nudged me as we lounged in our swimsuits, sweeping his wet brown hair back.

“He was on the news, dingus,” Astrid huffed, slipping into the hot tub beside us.

Though 'tub' was a little bit of a misnomer.

The damn thing was nearly the size of a normal pool.

Which was why we held things like this over at Jimmy's home in the first place, of course.

It was the kind of impressive construction that regularly made the vacation brochures to display how idyllic and pleasant this area was supposed to be. In comparison, my own family's wasn't any slouch, but we were definitely a more standard residential property, and was off on a side-street. Nothing, of course, to be ashamed of, but I did occasionally wish we had a pool or hot tub when I wanted to feel fancy.

Ah, well... aspirations.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that he was on the news, but he wasn't actually on the news, you know?” Mike pointed out, gesticulating wildly to make his point. “It's one thing if they just show your picture, but Arden could actually give an interview and-”

“He doesn't want to be on the news, though,” Astrid cut the boy off pointedly.

“I got that, I just wanna know why...” Mike huffed.

“Because it's a pain in the ass,” I sighed, slipping down further into the hot, bubbling water. “Remember the talent show two years ago, Mike?”

My friend twitched, a few of the kids in earshot muffling smirks and laughter.

Astrid, though, openly snorted.

“I thought we agreed not to bring that up ever again!” Mike squeaked, clearing his throat immediately after. “Dude, what the-”

“Language!” Thomas Hill, the hardass of the group, barked from where he was cleaning up the snack table. I strongly suspect that boy had a bit of the 'tism in him, as a friend had once told me. “Don't think I can't hear you over there. I let the first one slide because of what happened, Arden, but you won't get another one.”

“Roger that,” I replied, unbothered and enjoying the heat suffusing my body.

“Now that the buzzkill is done...” Mike grunted and turned back to me.

I rolled my eyes. “When you get up on stage before someone and have to answer questions, anything you say is put under a microscope. Everyone's staring and they're recording and, if you make one mistake they'll pick that apart and ridicule you for days, weeks, months... and the worst part is that reporters are constantly trying to get you to say something wrong.”

Mike grimaced and turned away while I saw Jane, Terry, Bella, Charlotte, and Duke were all paying varying levels of attention to me.

“That's not what reporters are supposed to do,” Thomas asserted, crossing his arms in front of him. “Reporters get at the truth of the matter and inform the public of important matters.”

Yeah, definitely a bit of the 'tism. Oh, this poor, sweet, summer child.

“Except for the fact that they get paid based on how engaging their article is,” I responded. “And articles that farm outrage will always be more engaging than ones that are simple feel-good stories. They'd really like it if I had a public breakdown while talking to them and called for Kevin and John's heads on a silver platter.”

“That's...” Thomas began, looking frustrated.

“I mean, what was it our Ms. Task said last semester? 'If it bleeds, it leads?' Wasn't that it?” Jane asked, leaning back and thinking it over. “That's basically what Arden just said.”

“Anyway, how about we just not talk about that mess,” I waved them off. “What's up with the trip on Spring Break?”

The topic change was obvious, but clear enough in reasoning that no one contested it.

While they talked, I watched my fellow scouts have their animated discussion. They were all excited by the possibilities of the new camp we were going to travel to. I had to admit that it would be interesting, but...

The shine had rubbed off a little bit, now that I had powers.

I frowned at the thought.

The scouts had been something I'd joined in the name of... well, experiencing something new. I hadn't been one last time around. There'd been a local youth program I'd been a part of, but not one that was nationally-recognized like the Scouts. If nothing else, getting to Eagle Scout would earn me a nice gold star to put on college applications and resumes.

But now that my entire life has changed...

I could justify this last trip, probably.

People lost interest in the program all the time. A few years ago, we'd had... what, five more kids? Kelly, Lawrence... Bob? I couldn't remember the other two right now. They'd all dropped. Even if I had intended to keep up with it, things changed.

“You okay?”

I blinked, turning to look at Mike. “Hmm?”

“Just... you seem down, all of a sudden?” Mike commented, picking up the last of his things and tucking the wet swimsuit into a plastic bag. “You didn't even stare at Astrid's ass like you normally do when she's in her suit.”

I groaned, my face heating. “You ruined it, dude. We were about to have a true friendship moment, and you ruined it.”

Mike snorted, grinning. “Alright, there it is. Thought you were actually kind of screwed up after that mess at school. You gonna' be okay heading back after the weekend?”

I shrugged, sighing. “I'll be fine, it's not that I'm spazzing over. Just...”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to tell Mike everything, but... he was also still a kid. It wasn't that he was immature, really. It was more like... I didn't know if he knew how to take thing seriously, if that made sense. There was an inherent childishness to his character that I wasn't quite ready to place my faith in.

“...just thinking about maybe getting more serious with my electronics hobby.” I paused. “And I've taken up painting, too.”

“Painting?” Mike blinked, his brown eyes looking blank for a moment. “No shit?”

“No shit,” I replied with a nod. “It's some kind of hidden talent thing. Maybe I went on a spirit journey huffing toxic fumes in the basement.”

Mike snorted and slapped my shoulder. “That's a good one! So, you any good?”

“Scary good,” I replied with a shrug. “I'll show you the next time you come over. After the paparazzi finally get lost.”

“Looking forward to it,” he nodded, giving me a once over. “Was that what had you distracted all afternoon? Thinking about art?”

“Just not sure if I'm going to have time for getting serious on my hobby, taking up art, and the scouts all at the same time,” I admitted, mentally adding 'heroism training' to the list.

Mike clicked his tongue. “Ah.”

“Plus, I kind of want to get into shape, you know?” I said, stretching my arms out over my head. “At least a little bit. If I could have clocked Kevin one in his fat face, maybe he'd have taken a hint.”

My friend snorted and nodded. “Eh, maybe. I'd heard he was pretty stupid, though. Might've taken more than one.”

There was a pause.

“So... dropping scouts, then, huh?” He probed.

“Something's gotta' give,” I sighed, rubbing at my chin awkwardly. “Not until after Spring Break, though. Maybe sometime during summer. Give it a last hurrah, you know?”

“Man... that sucks,” Mike sighed as well, shouldering his bag. “Astrid is gonna be bummed. You know she likes you, right? Dunno if she'll stay in if you leave.”

I grimaced. That was something that I needed to think about, too. I could tell that she liked me, especially now, with that skill. I'd avoided the idea of romance in this life so far, for multiple reasons. First, it'd be a little weird if I started dating before I hit high school. Second, now that I was in high school, I was young enough that the age gap made things weird with kids in my year. Third, Mom would throw a shit fit. Fourth... even if I was a kid again, I was still mature enough to know that other kids weren't mature enough to handle that stuff.

Should I even try to start a relationship right now?

But I'd been 'busy' in my last life, too, and ended up single for a long time because of that.

Was a 'summer romance' too much to ask? Or would it be unfair to Astrid?

Was I getting caught up in my own head again?

“I'll ask her out,” I decided, impulsively, nodding at Mike.

“You go, man,” he grinned, flashing me a thumbs up. “I've been rooting for you to get around to it one day.”

I looked around, finding the clusters of parents and their children getting ready to go.

“Dude, what are you-” Mike started, his eyes widening as I made my way towards the blond girl standing with her mom and dad. “Oh, holy shit. I didn't think you meant now!”

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Hobb?” I asked, fighting down the urge to make an excuse that was rising in me.

“Oh, Arden! It's so good to see you!” Hanah Hobb smiled, reaching out to pull me into a hug I wasn't entirely comfortable with. “We were so concerned when we heard you'd gone missing! Astrid was beside herself with-”

“Mooo~ooom!” The girl cried out, her face flushing.

“Thanks, I'm sorry I caused everyone such a scare...” I frowned and reached up to scratch the back of my head. “Anyway... I was going to ask Astrid if she wanted to go see a movie. With me. If it was okay with you? And her, of course.”

Hanah blinked, perking up considerably as Astrid's face blanked completely in surprise, her blush reaching atomic level while two of the other girls in our troop nearby started squealing. But my gaze had already moved to where it was most important.

Her father's gaze met my own.

Gary Hobb, another former football player, though a different year than my father. They'd never played together, but knew of one another, and liked to talk shit together about the sport together sometimes. He looked me over, an assessing eye raking up and down my body, then over to his daughter. “You want to catch a movie with Arden, Princess?”

“U-um... Yes, Daddy?” Astrid squeaked, uncharacteristically bashful as she looked to me and we exchanged a quick smile.

“Alright then.” Gary shrugged, clapping me on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “You have her back before... eight, let's say? You're both thirteen, after all. I don't think you need to be out later than that, and I think Archie and Abigail will agree with me.”

Importantly, he was looking over my head when he said that.

“I do, and his father will, as well,” Mom stated from behind me, and I looked back to her with a small wince. She sighed at my trepidation. “I guess I was expecting you to ask her out sooner or later, I'm not angry, Arden. Just... this is a little out of the blue, honey.”

I opened my mouth, and thought better of what I was about to say, then... decided to say it anyway, if a little softer than I'd initially planned. “I was thinking... who knows what might happen? So better now than never.”

Mom winced and the Hobbs inhaled slightly, seeming to understand.

“Saturday,” Astrid jumped in, stepping forward. “Should I eat first?”

“We can hit up a restaurant before the movie,” I shrugged. “Meet up at three? How about... we meet up at the theater, pick a showing, then find something quick so we still have room for popcorn?”

Astrid's smile widened, “Sounds great! See you Saturday!”

Then she leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before bouncing off happily. Her father patted my shoulder one last time before raising his pointer and middle fingers to his eyes, then smirking and pointing them at me. The expression was clear enough, but had a playful edge to it.

Still, I nodded respectfully in acknowledgment.

Mike walked by, his look respectful and impressed.

“Well, let's get home and talk to your father,” Mom sighed, shaking her head.

“Sorry, Mom,” I sighed, not knowing what else to say.

“You don't have anything to apologize for, Arden,” Abigail stated firmly. “I knew it was going to happen eventually, this just caught me by surprise.

That seemed to be the end of the discussion, or close enough. Given that Mom didn't seem completely opposed to my play, I let it go and shifted topics to the imminent return to school. After two weeks of closure due to the crime scene and subsequent remediation efforts, things looked to finally be ready to go back to normal.

That, at least, kept the awkward silences away on the way home.

…

“Oh! Here he is, they're just coming in right now!”

I blinked, looking at my dad. He was standing in the kitchen with a look of profound... something on his face. Pride? Excitement? Shock?

“Arden, phone for you. Someone important wants to talk to you,” Dad stated, walking forward and handing me the wireless handset. Looking at his wife, he made hushed beckoning noises.

I gave my father an odd look before shaking my head and heading into the living room for quiet and privacy...

...and promptly continuing on my way to the back porch. Algie gave me a quick wave before turning his eyes back to the game that was on, though I winced from the roaring of the crowd. No wonder Dad had been in the kitchen. Experience told me I had about teen feet into the yard before the connection failed. As I slid the glass door closed behind me, I held the receiver up to my ear.

“Arden Villin speaking, who may I ask is calling?” I greeted politely.

“Arden! This is Bruce Wayne! Owner, operator, and CEO of Wayne Enterprises,” a full and friendly baritone voice on the other end responded to me.

I nearly dropped the goddamn fucking phone.

“Hu-uh-Hi?” I bleated out.

The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “It's great to speak with you, I was worried I'd just missed you when your Dad said you were still at your scout meet.”

My mouth worked, trying to grapple with the sudden and inexplicable shift that my world had undertaken. “I-it's a – um, it's amazing to hear from you, too, Mr. Wayne. I... can I ask why you're calling?”

Has the Bat-Mind detected me? Zatanna spouted a prophecy? Is that a thing he can do? Maybe Wonder Woman... wait, no Justice League yet! Have they even met?!

While I was spiraling, Bruce chuckled again at my obvious flusterment. “Well, when one of the largest shareholders of voting stock outside of myself and the board members finds himself in the hospital and on the national news, a courtesy call is usually expected, if only to exchange a few pleasantries and touch base.”

I blinked, swallowed, and felt relief wash over me.

Right. The shares.

“O-oh,” I cleared my throat, my mind rushing back to my thoughts earlier that day – the same ones that had been plaguing me for days now – as my eyes tracked to the shut glass door and the closed window. Ambient noise from the house filtered through, but not enough to affect my conversation. “Well, I'm fine. Like you said, I spent some time in the hospital, then finished recovering here at home. It... well, it wasn't fun, exactly, but there wasn't any permanent damage, either.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” Bruce replied. “Though, while I have your ear... do you mind if I pick your brain a little?”

I frowned, thinking over the question. “If there's something I can do to help, sure Mr. Wayne.”

“I was mainly just wondering exactly how an-” There was the sound of shuffling papers. “-eight year old? Yes, how a six year old managed to work out when to buy and sell stock in my family's company. I actually had an SEC investigator – that's the Security & Exchange Commission – show up. They asked a number of interesting questions after that piece on your stock portfolio aired, you know?”

I winced. That had been one of the few phone calls I'd actually had to deal with personally yesterday, just after Addy had to head back to college. It'd been a pain in the ass and something I'd wish had been validated by earning a ticket. Sadly, or happily, my parents had done the bulk of the work deflecting attention away from me. I might be the young prodigy, but it was their name on the purchases and accounts, for the most part.

“I was technically nine when the IPO actually happened,” I replied, leaning against one of the poles holding up the porch overhang.

Bruce chuckled again, a noise that I couldn't tell whether or not it was manufactured. “I'll have that noted in the report, but regardless of your age... I'm just curious if you heard about it from someone online, maybe? Or overheard someone traveling through town on vacation, maybe?”

My thoughts raced, and I realized why this was so important to merit a call from the man himself.

It wasn't the company, not really.

In a very real way, I'd placed a long-odds bet on Bruce Wayne just as he'd wandered in from the wilderness and everyone and their dog considered him some prodigal son out for an easy payday.

I hadn't. I'd bought into the IPO, held it for the rise, then accurately predicted that Bruce would find some way to buy the stocks back through third parties. Once that came out, the stocks had plunged and devalued completely. I'd avoided that by preemptively selling, then buying the resulting dip when things went to rock bottom.

The only reason I'd gotten away with it for so long was due to the chaos of the initial months of Bruce's management and, after that, things had been buried under layers of sales and purchases and a newly-formed LLC my parents had created to handle all further purchases, isolating our names from transactions to a superficial degree.

Once scrutiny was applied, though... that paper-thin camouflage fell apart.

Did Bruce think I was some kind of front for the League of Assassins? Some organization he'd wronged or ghosted during his travels?

Well, it looks like Mission #1 was fucked even before it began! A new world record! Literally negative time accomplished on that objective before Batman was on my ass!

My hands were sweating.

You know what? Fuck it!

“If... if I asked you for help, sir? Could you...” I worked at the words, and nothing came out for a long moment, the feeling of vertigo coming over me, as if I were standing in front of a gaping void. A chasm of uncertainty and possibility that no one else could see.

The Unknown.

“I'd do my best to help you if you're in trouble, Arden,” Bruce stated, his tone shifting. It was lower, serious, firm... there wasn't any gravel or threat to it, not yet. “Is someone threatening you? Your family?”

“No,” I shook my head, not that he could see it, my heart racing and adrenaline flooding my system without an outlet. “I-it... there's a... circus, coming to Gotham. In a month. Next month.”

“A circus?” Bruce asked, and I heard the faintest clack of keys in the background. “That's... ah, Haly's Circus?”

I took a deep breath and whet my lips with a stroke of my tongue.

“Tony Zucco is going to hit them up for protection money when they come to town,” I explained. “They'll refuse to pay. They're tough people, not the kind you threaten lightly. I-in reponse, Zucco is going to have the trapeze wires sabotaged, so that... the F-flying Graysons will fall to their deaths.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Arden... why are you telling me this?” Bruce asked, his voice quiet and compassionate, but with an undertone of steel.

“Because you can help,” I replied bluntly, almost gasping the words out in relief, the weight of the secret having been bearing down on me harder than I'd thought. I knew there was so many dangers coming in the next few years... aliens, demons, gods, monsters, villains, disasters... but I didn't know where or when or which ones.

This, though, this was something I could stop.

Something that I wasn't helpless to prevent.

I reached up and swept a hand over my eyes.

Raining, again, under the awning even. Must be a leak. Dad would need to fix that.

“I can call the police, yes,” Bruce replied carefully. “At least, I could if I knew this information came from a reliable source. So how do you know about this, Arden? How does a boy in Colorado know about the schemes of a criminal in Gotham?”

There were things I could say to that, a lot of them.

Bruce didn't deserve most of them, though, not the ones that would convince him.

“Even if I told someone...” I replied, choosing my words with unusual precision. “...any kind of secret, like where that tip came from... they wouldn't believe some kid. Even if he's a genius. But...”

I paused, thinking over the next part, Bruce sitting quietly on the line.

“Secrets... aren't like other things. They're more important the fewer people know them,” I stated. “So... if I had a really important secret, like where I got that information from, or why I'm telling you... I'd know better than to tell anyone about it. Especially if it's not mine to share in the first place.”

Another long pause.

“I see.” Bruce's voice was... hard to read, now, empty of either true or falsified emotion. “Is there anything else you think I should know?”

“J-Jason Todd,” I mumbled, then repeated myself. “Two d's. His mother is using. He needs a good home before he ends up on the streets.”

“I'll... try to get the police to pay some attention to these situations, Arden,” Bruce assured me, taking a breath before replying properly. “If there's anything else... hmm, actually, you should expect a package from me in the next few days. It wouldn't do to have my youngest stockholder unable to voice his opinions, after all.”

My mind groped for a moment, the switch of tracks too rapid.

A communicator. Cell phone? Something that's not a normal phone line, probably. Are satellite phones a thing yet?

“Okay. If there's anything else... I'll let you know,” I nodded. “You're probably busy, though.”

Bruce chuckled, the amiable nature coming back. “We're two hours ahead of Colorado, Arden. I was just about to sit down for dinner, actually.”

I meant what I said, and I think we both know it.

“Right,” I nodded. “I shouldn't keep you, then.”

“Good night, Arden.” Bruce paused one last time. “I'll be in touch.”

The line went dead and I almost went with it.

“Jesus H. Fucking Christ,” I whispered, rubbing at my face and smearing sweat over it from my palms. Which, again, weird because I never sweat from my palms. Ever.

Then again, I'd never spoken with Batman before, either.

I sighed and, not wanting to interact with my parents again quite yet, dropped onto the edge of the porch. Instantly, a giant hound made it known that he expected attention and dropped his head into my lap. Setting the phone down, I pulled out the ticket I had in my pocket from earlier.

It was bronze, a reward for not starting a forest fire while practicing.

An intrusive thought suggested I might get another for intentionally starting one, but I beat that down with the ease of growing practice.

Only there wasn't one ticket in my pocket.

There were two.

[Confound Destiny]

It was clear or – no, not quite – it was... faceted, translucent, not quite transparent. Like looking through broken glass or a cut gem.

My heart rate spiked again.

“Diamond,” I breathed, my eyes wide as I stared at the reward, then read the words back. “Confound Destiny.”

Something about that tickled the back of my mind, but the potential of the ticket absorbed my attention. This was – by far – the highest rank I'd gotten. I hadn't even scored a platinum ticket yet. Those were awarded for saving – or killing – affecting hundreds of lives. Acts of heroism or villainy that spanned city blocks or entire neighborhoods.

Diamond was... a step past that.

The First Robin, Nightwing, Dick Grayson... yeah, I could see screwing up his destiny being worth that much.

It left a pit in my stomach, though.

I looked between the two papers for another moment, then slipped the bronze back in my pocket for now. I probably only had time for one before they noticed I was off the phone, anyway.

And like hell I wasn't cracking my reward for what was likely the most stressful conversation I'd had in either life.

I stopped, turned to look at the dog in my lap, and relaxed. “Fool me once, shame on me...”

But, this wasn't Lincoln. This was Monroe, and he was a kind, gentle, and noble beast... except when it came to treats. God help you if you got between that dog and manifesting his destiny on whatever treat was being offered.

Snorting, I tore the ticket and popped the ball.

And blinked at the paper, then swore.

“One day, I'm actually going to get magic and then I'll be fucking awesome at it, I swear to the Source,” I muttered, shaking my head.

372.Brand of Tzeentch (5.8 Rarity, 0.71% odds)

-Epic Trait-

Warhammer 40k - You wear the brand of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways. Greatly speeding up your comprehension and learning abilities. Allowing you to improve in skill and magic far faster. In addition, you are capable of spells that you otherwise wouldn't be able to learn due to restrictions like racial differences. Note: Brands do not connect you to the Chaos Gods or Warp.

Worlds away, an ancient figure in a tattered cloak sat upon a sandworn monument in a forgotten desert at the edge of a ruined civilization.

Cradled in his arms was a massive tome which bore arcane symbols carved on both faces, chains wrapping the body of the book and trailing up the thing and weathered arms holding it open.

A faceless shadow bore down from where the hood of the cloak was raised as he stared down at the pages before him.

The pages… that had shifted.

Something had happened.

Something strange and unforeseen.

“There is… another,” a voice dry as the surrounding desert rasped out.  Joints and bones as old as the universe itself creaked as he stood, the dust of centuries falling from the folds of his cloak.

He began to walk, the endless sands shifting around him as ways and paths formed from nothing to carry him to the mansion that had never been - but always was - in the distance.

~~~

Here we go!

Another Butler Boy!

We continue the tale of Arden's adventures as he slowly gathers tokens of great power and reaps the unintended consequences of his own actions. Which is always fun.

Next update will be Mind Games, which scraped out a win as the top dog for this month. Butler Boy was close behind, though.

I'll also have the highest-tier poll up either tonight or tomorrow to see which other project gets a special extra-long chapter.

Hope everyone is enjoying your weekend. Thank you for your ongoing support.

Industrious - Chapter 67

Honestly, I didn't know what I was more disappointed in.

I'd finally lost my temper. After all of the bullshit and bargaining and playing nice I'd indulged in to be a functioning member of society, I'd finally snapped. And, like most things, it was just a pissant little argument that had broken me. Teaching my new squad had already been something I didn't really want to do, at least... not in the manner I was being forced to conduct myself in, as a ninja, but it was the idea that I'd have to put up with a pair of idiots sabotaging my training sessions that had gotten to me.

Then there was the fact that I hadn't been punished for it.

That was also extraordinarily irritating, but on a deeper level.

There had been a formal complaint filed against me, but Hiruzen had effectively used the document to light his pipe with, for all that it mattered. The Hyuuga were, after all, virtually out of political capital after Neji massacred their elders. All the old man had to do was threaten to put a disciplinary action before the council of clans and they'd vote it down out of sheer spite, even if I hadn't had the Uzumaki, Uchiha, and Kurama in my corner to stop it in its tracks.

The general feeling about the entire clusterfuck was that if the Hyuuga wanted anything done about it, they shouldn't have actively celebrated the deaths of the people who could do something about it.

It was yet another reminder of just what kind of world I was living in.

What kind of world I was raising a child in, no matter how unconventional that relationship was.

...and that thought, as I stared out my window, stuck with me.

“You're stuck in your head again,” Tenten pointed out lazily from the bed, stretching and exulting in the soreness of a well-earned romp in the bed.

“Yep,” I nodded, keeping myself in place by isometric pressure, one foot resting against the side of the window and pressing my back against the opposite.

“This is the part where you tell me what you're thinking,” she replied, running a hand through her undone hair. I knew she'd insist that I help her tie it back into her iconic buns before she left, but... that was tomorrow, and I enjoyed seeing her in this state. “Because I'm not a Yamanaka and can't read your mind, Kota.”

I hummed and nodded, a hidden seal activating and releasing a canteen of chilled water for me to sip from. Swallowing slowly, I ordered my thoughts.

“What's your ideal world?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and sending a gaze her way for a moment.

Tenten blinked, remaining silent under my curious gaze.

“What brought this on?” She finally asked, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with one arm.

“Thinking about the future. Where I want to be, what I want out of life, when and how more kids are going to happen...” I shrugged.

Tenten looked thoughtful for a moment, then smirked. “Well, as far as how kids happen, I think we've gotten in plenty of practice. Unless you want more?”

She slid back the blanket covering her lower body enticingly.

“Tempting, and I might take you up on that after a little pillow talk,” I admitted.

Tenten snorted. “This is what passes for pillow talk? Well, I guess given who it is...”

“You girls knew what you were getting into,” I replied dryly, taking another sip of my canteen and offering it to the girl before giving it a toss her way.

Catching it and taking a drink of her own, she leaned back and stretched again. “Hmm... what I want? What's my ideal world? I guess... one where I wouldn't have to share you with two other women.”

She froze just as the words fell from her lips, instantly looking aggrieved over what she'd just said.

“Can we... just pretend that didn't happen?” She asked, looking away and cradling one arm with the other.

I dropped from the window and paced over to her, wrapping her in my arms.

It was all the answer she needed.

“I thought you were okay with this?” I asked, pulling her close. She was warm in my arms, the scent of sweat, metal, and blade oil coating her form. At this point, it was a comforting sensation, to catch wind of Tenten's particular mix.

She sighed and leaned into me. “I'm just... letting Yakumo have you for so long at a stretch has been hard. For Satsuki, too. She was frustrated when she lost the flip for today.”

I grimaced.

There was the urge to recommend that she bring Satsuki along the next time, but... this had been about Tenten and I, not Satsuki. It would have made things more awkward, not less. I knew her body language well enough to understand she'd wanted personal time for me and I had enough common sense not to say another woman's name while I was in bed with her.

“How do you feel?” I asked instead. “About all of this? I let you girls handle it between yourself, but maybe that was a mistake...”

Tenten shook her head, snorting. “No. If you'd gotten involved, things would have gotten messy. I know them and me well enough to say that, don't worry. You did the right thing, it's just...”

There was a long, thoughtful pause that I allowed to linger as I drew lines and shapes on her exposed flesh, sending gooseflesh rising and falling and her breath hitching.

“I think I love you,” she finally said, turning and kissing me.

I leaned into the embrace, one hand reaching for a breast instinctively.

Tenten pulled away, gasping and allowing her own hand to reach between my legs... then stopping. “No... I should... you were right. I think we do need to talk about... some stuff.”

“As my lady commands,” I smiled, kissing her again, then letting my expression fade into a somber one. “What's bothering you?”

“It's mainly you being so busy with Yakumo and Kokoro,” Tenten sighed. “I think it will go away when things get back to normal and I remember why I got into... all of this in the first place.”

“Refresh my memory,” I entreated her. “What were those reasons?”

Oftentimes, just having someone say something aloud reaffirmed that very declaration, though my main concern was that Tenten felt she was heard and valued right now. If I couldn't do that, I might as well call it quits on this entire relationship. I'd have to make sure to do something special with Satsuki tomorrow as well.

Which would probably involve a high-level spar with a little instruction on advanced techniques on the side.

That usually got her fired up and in the mood, and Satsuki was so much more chill after being pounded into a puddle.

Tenten chuckled and leaned against me. “Well, first off, I'm terrified of having a guy all to myself.”

“You'll have to explain that one,” I commented idly.

She shrugged in my arms. “It's just what I said. Relationships are stressful. I'm working full time as a kunoichi. Most guys would want me to take time off and be available and stuff. Especially civilians.”

I made a wordless noise of understanding. Civilian and ninja relationships were usually... strained. Incredibly so, at times. It worked more often with people who'd at least done the academy training, but even they didn't have the proper context for the brutal world of shadows and bloodshed you lived in as a shinobi.

That said, it wasn't uncommon for male shinobi to pressure kunoichi to step back from field work, either. That only usually happened after they made chunin, though, due to the benefits Konoha offered shinobi who were willing to show a few years' commitment. And, contrary to my distant memories of the 'Rookie Nine' or whatever, it almost always took that long before a promotion was even considered.

“So I know I'm being greedy, I guess,” Tenten sighed, snuggling into my embrace more. “I want someone to come home to, but I don't want them to ask me for anything. No... concessions, I think is the word. I get to go and take long-term missions or run around the continent if I want and whatever guy I pick up would have to deal with it. That's not fair to a lot of people, and I know it.”

“But I have Satsuki and Yakumo,” I replied, crossing the taboo, but for good reason.

Good enough that Tenten nodded as she continued. “But you have them. So I don't feel bad if Team Guy has a two-week escort into Wind or we have to be on a boat to Water first thing in the morning and I grab my go bag without eating a dinner you cooked. You can just call Yakumo or Satsuki to fill in for me. The reverse is true, too, and I'll probably end up making the time back with you when they're called away.”

“For what it's worth,” I interjected softly, “I would miss you. None of you are actually a substitute for each other. I want time with Tenten just as much as I want time with Satsuki and Yakumo.”

Tenten turned a pair of brown eyes to look up at me, smiling, and kissed me gently. “Thanks. That actually means a lot. I know you're not the type to think it, but I'm the odd one out, not being a clan heiress and everything, so I wonder sometimes...”

I shook my head, squeezing her tightly. “You shouldn't. If I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't be. I'm here, now, with you. That means something. Don't doubt that.”

Tenten hummed, luxuriating in a rare show of emotional and physical vulnerability.  “That’s why I love you, you know?  You can say things like that.”

We were silent for a long few moments.

“The other reason I actually really want this to work...” Tenten sighed, continuing. “It's kind of like that, too. Like I said... I know you're not the type, but... you are amazing. And that means you'll have eyes on you. There are plenty of kunoichi who'd want to land you if you were single right now, let alone in a few years.”

Even if I could see the point she was making on an objective level...

Well, I was pretty easy-going, but I had my limits. There were people I couldn't deal with.

As evidenced by my recent incident with the Hyuga.

Maybe, maybe not.

“But with Satsuki and Yakumo you know that there will almost always be someone in the village,” I stated. “So there's less chance for someone to try and get at me.”

“And less chance for you to cheat, too,” Tenten grinned at me, the tease in her voice evident.

But I couldn't let a shot like that go, so I copped my own grin. “Honestly? You're more likely to find me in bed with Sakurai instead of another girl.”

She blinked, her eyebrows rising. “Really? Huh...”

I shrugged. “It's not a big deal. Sakurai's just... well, he's feminine enough for my tastes. But that wouldn't happen while I'm with you.”

“So if I talked to Ino and Naruko...” Tenten began slowly. “And got Satsuki and Yakumo's okay...”

I gave her a deadpan stare. The term 'thirsty' didn't really have the correct connotations here in this world as it did my old one, but I was sorely tempted to coin it. “Unlikely. You'd have to get Sakurai onboard and, last I checked, he's not into men. At all.”

Which was a half-truth, but Sakurai would forgive me under the circumstances.

He was still trying to land Ino with Naruko taking inspiration from my little harem and attempting a compromise. He didn't need the trouble Tenten would bring with that suggestion. In fact, neither did I. I suspected that part of her subconscious reasoning behind even joking about it was a subconscious self-sabotage attempt. If something that was primarily 'my fault' happened, she could declare the entire thing over without any fault of her own to answer for.

But this wasn't the time to unpack that, nor was it a serious concern unless it happened again and formed a pattern.

Tenten snorted. “Eh, worth a shot. Something I would have liked to see, at least.”

“I'll work up a transformation jutsu and you can enjoy it first hand,” I replied, a touch archly.

Which, admittedly, seemed not to work as it put her in a speculative mood as she looked down at her own body.

“We were talking about how I was going to remain loyal to you, Satsuki, and Yakumo,” I prompted her, making Tenten shake her head abruptly to clear it.

“Right... I just worry that I'm kind of out of my depth with you, sometimes,” Tenten confessed, sighing again.

I frowned. “How do you mean?”

“Kota... whenever we get old enough to actually start having kids,” Tenten began warningly, “Satsuki and Yakumo are going to have to host parties. Talk with dignitaries. There are going to be people who come from all over the continent to commission a single sword from you. I don't think you really understand exactly how big you're going to be once word gets out.”

And it would, eventually, get out.

I leaned back a little, taking that assertion in.

“And I'm a clanless orphan,” Tenten continued, then overwhelmed my forming response, “and that isn't me talking down about my skills. I might have some talent with weapons, especially after what you taught me, and the same goes for sealing, but I wasn't born into the same world they were. There's no way I get to claim a spot as anything other than the third wife, and that's being generous. Considering I want to get to the point where I'm respected enough to sell whatever you make to nobility and royalty and legendary ninja.”

I thought that over for a moment, putting aside the urge to argue with her over the - frankly realistic - fact that she couldn’t stand up to the backstabbing political courtiers of that level of society.

She wasn't wrong, not really.

My weapons were good, no doubt, though I didn't think I'd released anything on the Seven Swordsman's tier just yet into the Konoha populace.

My personal stash was another story.

Sarutobi only thought he'd seen the shit I was holding back.

But... that was only right now. There would come a time when I advanced enough to feel comfortable selling my current best off to Konoha ninja. That was how escalation worked. When that happened, though, it'd be obvious that Konoha had a master blacksmith capable of making them. If it was just one or two they'd maybe be able to write it off as a relic someone had discovered, but...

This was something I'd long understood and not really cared about, but hearing that Tenten was basing her plans for the future on me becoming famous and well-known...

“So that's your dream, then? Your ideal future?” I asked.

“Well, the most attainable one,” Tenten snorted. “There are days where my lifelong goal feels like it's to lounge beside a castle of dark chocolate and never go on another mission ever again. Those days are usually the result of getting too much swamp water in my pants and then crawling through mud to lose a scent trail, though.”

“Quite the dream.” I chuckled at the image. “So... right now, if anything were possible, what would your actual dream be?”

Tenten gave an amused huff of her own and kissed me again. “Anything? Hmm... Well, obviously a peaceful Elemental Nations where I could raise our kids – and Satsuki and Yakumo's – without worrying about them needing to defend the village. Then... probably a castle too, why not? Maybe something tropical, but with a nice winter retreat like the nobility has. Plus a forge and armory where I could work with you and learn all the amazing secrets you put into your weaponry. And whatever Satsuki and Yakumo would want.”

“Is that all?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“For now,” she stated imperiously, grinning slyly at me. “Be grateful I'm keeping things so tame. What if I wished for the moon?”

“The moon would probably be easier than a peaceful Elemental Nations,” I commented thoughtfully.

Tenten giggled at that. “It would, wouldn't it?”

Cloaked in mutual amusement, that silly and playful dream she'd painted lingered as we discussed specifics. I quizzed her on what type of castle she wanted, whether just one would be big enough for all three of my women or if I'd need more...

In the back of my mind, though, the idea of a peaceful world refused to leave.

A world where I wouldn't need to worry about my children defending the village.

That's what she'd said.

And now, with Kokoro, it was a thought I had to confront.

Without her, I could push back the bothersome politics and simply make my swords, spend lazy days with my women, and amuse myself bargaining with the Hokage over the castoff treasures he lusted for. Even teaching my new team would grow on me in time, I was self-aware enough to know that. I simply didn't want to have my hand forced in that regard.

Now, though... I had to face that possibility head-on. How long would it be until Kokoro wanted to take on a mission? How long until Sarutobi wanted to send his grandson – my student – to be blooded like a true ninja? Perhaps six years, at the most, for either or both of those eventualities. Then another decade past that when my own children would be born and grown enough to stare up at me with pride as they tied their hitai-ate to their foreheads and packed a bag to head outside the marginal safety of even the grand walls of Konoha.

The thought was still with me, hours later, as Tenten lay curled against me, sweaty and exhausted.

There was only one way to prevent that future from coming to pass.

“Peace.”

The word, whispered into the humid night air, tasted like ash on my tongue.

~~~

Okay, so first thing's first. If you haven't voted on the polls for the month yet, there's still a bit over twelve hours left at time of posting. Make your voice heard!

Looking at things as they stand now... damn, but Butler Boy impressed this time. With a showing like that, I might consider moving it to the main poll permanently. Though SAO will return next month, so I'll have to rotate out another project to keep things fair. Taking a hard second place and duking it out with Mind Games is certainly unexpected, though.

That said, Mind Games is still taking first place right now once everything is tallied up.

For now, though, enjoy the ongoing adventures of Kotaro and his oncoming realization of exactly what he's signed up for in settling down in a ninja village like he has.

September Favoritism!

Okay, going to shuffle the voting options up a little bit this month and see how things shake out.

For those who don't know how this works, the project with the most votes gets preferential treatment for this month. The next-most votes gets the next-most attention, which admittedly didn't happen for August. I'll try to fix that by moving straight to an Industrious chapter right now and sneak in a New Ron one as well, though that will be iffy this week.

Hope this finds everyone well. For my American/Canadian patrons, I hope you have a great Labor Day and enjoy your three-day weekend. You're all amazing and deserve it.

Thank you again for all the support you give me. It means a lot.

Mind Games - Chapter 37

“Okay, the votes are in,” Kirishima – Buster, currently – chuckled as he looked over the final tally. “Top two slots are another karaoke party and a test of courage for Golden Week.”

I sighed, bringing my hands up to rub at my face. “I reserve the right to blame both Buster and everyone who voted when this goes catastrophically wrong.”

Eijiro laughed. “C'mon dude, it won't be that bad! We can even time it so that we do the karaoke after you get your UA letter. That way it'll be a celebration when you get in!”

A few comments scrolled by and I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, look, not to give myself too much of a glow up here, but I'm pretty sure I did well enough on the exam to get in. Or, at the very least, snag a spot in one of the other tests to try for general admissions,” I waved the haters off, barely dignifying what they'd said with a response.

“So we're go for the karaoke party. Right, I'll let Pinkie – oops! She's blowing up my DMs already,” Eijiro laughed.

Just for saying that, the chat exploded with Buster/Pinkie discourse.

“I'm shocked.” My deadpan statement got some cheers from the chat. “Utterly shocked. Can you tell how shocked I am, Buster?”

“Ahh... maybe just a bit? Um, anyway... what are we going to do for the test of courage?” He swapped rails.

“I'll take care of it,” I shrugged. “I kind of figured that would come up eventually, so I've been mining some haunted location forums and things like that.”

“Sounds great, just... uh, nothing too scary? Please?” Buster pressed, clapping his hands together and bowing his masked head in supplication.

“I'm honestly more concerned about making sure we don't get tetanus or run into a villain hideout using an abandoned-” I raised my fingers to put the next word in air-quotes. “-haunted building as cover.”

The chat spiraled with the implication and I shrugged as I replied to the questions.

“Do I believe in ghosts? No, I don't.” I paused dramatically. “They don't need me to believe in them for them to be real. And, yes, for the record, ghosts are real.”

“Whoa... My Man Bootstrap actually putting his foot down on something... don't see that everyday,” Kirishima teased. “For all the people losing their minds out there on the internet right now with the new lore you just dropped... wanna share how you know?”

“Most of it boils down to personal testimonial stuff,” I replied bluntly, causing another cascade in the chat. “Which – yes – I know does not constitute replicable scientific proof. I am aware of that. Nevertheless, what I've seen has convinced me of the factual truth that ghosts exist and I'll haunt that hill after I die on it.”

“Alright, and with that... I think we're getting a bit close to log-off time. It was super manly seeing all you here for the stream! Next time we'll get into the nitty-gritty of hero licensing and which kind you should be pulling for,” Kirishima revealed.

“There's more than one type of hero license, yes,” I confirmed to the statements of disbelief scrolling downwards. “I'll also show off my own license next time around, so make sure you show up for that.”

Then I cut the feed.

“Dude... you sure you ain't a villain? Cause that was evil,” Kirishima stated, a bit of awe in his voice.

I found it easier than I expected to push away the memories that question brought up, Eijiro not having meant it remotely the same way as so many had before. “I'm sure. Now, I've got some stuff to do before I wind down for the night, so unless there's something pressing...?”

A few more pleasantries and an agreement to meet up sometime soon and we both signed off for the night. Even when shutting down the program, though, I kept the neat little background function running that replaced my background with an image of my bedroom, keeping the illusion that I was still operating out of the same space as always. Still, staring directly into the camera for over an hour was taxing and made me yearn for some private time.

Which was the cue Himiko had been waiting for.

“Are you all done playing with your friend, Husband?” She asked, wrapping me in a hug from behind.

“We just finished up, Wife,” I replied, leaning back in my chair and letting her nuzzle the nape of my neck. “Are you finding your butler to be useful?”

“Hehehe!” Himiko laughed, glancing towards where the former yakuza oyabun was setting up a display of fine china. “He's been really helpful! My husband's so thoughtful!”

I flicked my own glance towards Naburo. The man was in something of a fugue state, having disdained the option to remain conscious while he was serving as the Home's butler. I couldn't say I entirely blamed him, and part of me wanted to simply mind-wipe him to the best of my ability and drop him off to make a new life for himself...

But that wouldn't be a punishment, not in truth.

At least, not to my satisfaction.

No, he would provide me with the sum total of his knowledge regarding the Japanese underworld and, while he wasn't doing that, serve as a household aide for myself and my 'retinue' as well as a secondary line of defense in the unlikely event this safehold was breached.

I'd eventually get rid of him, though it was yet to be seen if that would simply be releasing him to his own devices in a few decades or if that would mean a shallow grave that would never be discovered. Regardless of the ultimate outcome, though, I felt little sympathy for a man who had spent his lifetime as a brutal crime boss, then had the gall to retire and cast judgment on those who had attempted to take up the reins in his place.

No, if I ever decided to release him, it would be into a world that had completely forgotten him and his entire existence after a lifetime's worth of helping me and mine undo the damage he'd had a part in inflicting on society.

The outer shell of my peripheral essence ghosted over the bindings I'd placed on him, gossamer threads stronger than steel, woven to subdue his personality, his desires, and his will. A charm to bind his fate and tie his future to my manse. That wasn't something I would normally unleash on another person – for a variety of reasons – but this man had both earned it and wouldn't leave the confines of this space for the foreseeable future, which meant there was no chance of him attracting undo eldritch attention wearing the heavy mantle of my power.

“What's that, dear?” Himiko asked, leaning in a little bit to more closely look over my shoulder.

“The Hat Man,” I replied absently, sighing. “My current target for information gathering and evaluation.”

“He's a monster, then?” Himiko probed further.

“Unknown at this time,” I grunted, displeased with how little there was on the figure. “He's something of an urban legend. What makes him rather unique is that he's not geographically bound – meaning that he's free to move about from place to place without any apparent ties.”

“That's rare?”

“There are other cases,” I stated, “but not many. The Hat Man, Laughing Jack, The Killer, and the Shadowman. Notice the pattern?”

“They're all people,” Himiko paused, frowning against me. “Or look like them. Pretending to be human to hunt more easily?”

“The most likely factor in their appearance, yes,” I nodded, sighing. “The animals, plants, places, and objects I've logged seem to prefer to stay in the same general location-”

“Places move?” Himiko interjected, finally pulling away from me and sliding around to drop into my lap.

“These places do,” I chuckled, clicking over a few images to let Himiko's piercing gaze watch as the pictures shifted. Forest clearings, alleyways, a few small lakes... each of them had a 'before' and 'after' version. One where they'd possessed things that were generally considered geographical features, and another where it was just... done. “They tend to pop back up eventually, but not where they were. Maybe a few streets over or in the next valley past a mountain.”

“No one notices?” Himiko asked, sliding her hand over mine and looking over more images I'd harvested from the various boards, all now neatly arranged into files with detailed summaries and dossiers.

“No one credible,” I shook my head, wrapping an arm around her waist. “A few of them are officially-recognized phenomena, but not widely publicized. The ones that most people admit exist are written off as DAPs. Dark Age Phenomenon.”

“Oh! I heard about those!” Himiko jerked slightly in surprise. “One of my classmates gave a report on them! Even if he's kind of a cryptid otaku, it was pretty interesting.”

In a minor fit of curiosity, I moved one hand over to my second keyboard and began hitting keys. Himiko's middle school was... well, it was a middle school. Their security was essentially non-existent. The girl sitting in my lap made a thoughtful noise as I pulled up her classroom's register of students, then reached out and pointed at one.

“Him. Shinobu Sekai,” she stated firmly. “His quirk is environmental endurance, so he never sweat during PE or got hot or cold.”

I hummed, looking him over. He was more fit than one might expect a nerd to be, but appeared mostly human baseline other than that. Obligatory thick glasses, of course, but otherwise pretty average. “I might offer him a job, if he can keep his mouth shut. Or is so non-credible that no one will believe him.”

“He's quiet. Doesn't talk much,” Himiko replied. “I think he has a friend or two in other classes. They talk about stuff during lunch on the rooftop. Sometimes other students go up there to look at them and come back down saying things like, 'wow, I thought that was just in anime.' Or, 'they really do exist!'”

I snorted and asked Himiko to pick out his friends, short-listing them for a potential operation I'd been building in the back of my head, but hadn't got around to, yet.

“What was so special about the Hat Man, though?” Himiko asked, dancing back to the original topic as she guided my hand to pull up the scattered images of him.

I assumed 'him,' of course.

“Because he's one of the few creatures or cryptids I've found that seem somewhere between benign to helpful,” I stated, lingering on the best photo I had of him. It was basically just a shadow cast in the shape of a human being. The proportions were off and gangly as he moved through the night. This specific photo was taken as he passed under a streetlight and... just kept being a shadow. I'd seen quirks that came close to the effect, but none of them precisely captured the unnerving uncanny valley of two-dimensional existence and complete absence of light that I saw in the Hat Man.

I'd even gone out of my way to look up Tokoyami and – while unsettling – Dark Shadow just didn't compare. The sentient quirk was very obviously something. It was alive and sentient and motive and spoke understandably.

The Hat Man was like a hole in the world – a complete absence of light – had decided to get up and walk around, pretending to be human.

“London, New Orleans, New York, San Francisco, Lima, Cairo, Johannesburg, Cape Town, the ruins of Old Dubai, Petra, New Constantine City... all over Europe, Asia, even down in Australia,” Himiko scrolled down the list. “That gives him a very high Mover rating, correct Husband?”

“Correct,” I agreed, watching short videos of the figure saving cats from trees, helping old ladies (usually blind ones) cross the street, and generally doing the most mundane hero shit imaginable to the point where he'd earned the name, 'Friendly Neighborhood Cryptid' from someone on the internet.

I was more interested in the reports of him dragging back missing people from parts unknown, though, usually heavily traumatized and deliriously thanking the strange being.

There were even rumors online that he'd managed to find his way into the highly-secure floating island full of mad scientists out in the Pacific Ocean, which was noteworthy in and of itself considering how many protections they'd put in place against teleportation and other forms of instantaneous transmission or covert entry.

“How are you going to meet him?” Himiko asked, her hand still on mine as I maneuvered it to a different document and tapped it. “Huh...”

“After culling what I consider to be the least reliable or trustworthy accounts I documented, he has a clear preference for one particular area of Shizuoka,” I confirmed, explaining what the colored dots showed to erase any doubt. “I especially want to see if I can contact him because he might have information on other phenomena and creatures that I can use to reduce my own exposure.”

“And your backup plan is... The Bargain?” Himiko frowned, ghosting the cursor over another one of the dots, this one red instead of blue. “Husband...”

I sighed at the dangerous tone her voice had taken as she turned her head to make eye contact with me, her cat's eyes flexing into piercing slits. “All of the reliable rumors I've been able to dig up say that, as long as you're polite and courteous, it responds in kind, even if you can't come to terms on a deal. It also takes payment in valuable objects, of which I have quite a few I'd be willing to part with if it got me information.”

Himiko made a displeased noise. “These files also say that this creature can be vindictive and manipulative, exacting prices like intelligence, self-control, and even your ability to speak.”

“If it asks for those things, I'll know I've fucked up, offer it a deal for its forgiveness with whatever I have on-hand, and politely excuse myself,” I replied bluntly.

“I'll be on standby while you meet with this thing, Husband,” Himiko stated in a tone that broke no disagreement.

“As my beautiful and capable wife wishes,” I conceded, seeing no reason to fight her on an objectively good idea.

“Good,” Himiko nodded, then looked around at the Home we'd been settling into and kissed my cheek. “You're not allowed to do silly things, Hitoshi. We have a house now and that means you're my husband and we still need to finish decorating. I can't do that on my own!”

Which, I knew, was her own way of showing concern over my health and position.

Still, it made me chuckle.

“Your room is yours to do with as you please if you'd like to made any modifications now that you've gotten used to having your own space,” I reminded her, pulling her close. “Once you move into the apartment for school, we can start sharing the master suite properly.”

Himiko relaxed at the reminder. “And I still need to meet your father properly, Husband. Not just a phone call.”

“He's being... difficult,” I admitted with a grimace. Niko was still fighting me on having Himiko over, no matter what reassurances I gave him that she wouldn't be bothered by his 'condition.' Although, I think part of it was that he didn't want to admit or know how to handle me having a steady relationship or growing up. “If he doesn't agree to a firm date without an escape clause by next week, I'll just text you to come over while I'm cooking last-minute. That should be after you get your acceptance letter so it'll be a shorter trip and you won't have to explain things to your parents.”

Himiko nodded again, happy with the concession.

Honestly, I was getting to the point where I'd use part of the last stash of those roofies I'd stolen to knock the man out so I could tape him to a chair.

“I still want to meet your mother, too.” That reminder made me... well, it made me feel a certain way.

“I'd like you to meet her after she gets out,” I stated, unhappy with putting it off while also unhappy with introducing my wife/girlfriend to my mother while the latter was behind bars. “I think she would too, but I'll ask her about it the next time Dad and I go see her, which should be soon. He tries for a visit during Golden Week.”

Himiko's face blanked – something that was becoming a less-common occurrence as time went on, but was still a sure indicator that she was struggling how to process the situation and unafraid to let me know. “I... think I should let you decide? This is your family. You haven't tried to tell me how to interact with Mother or Father, even if you don't like them.”

“It would be pointless if you cut ties with them to make me happy,” I nodded.

She dipped her head in return slowly. “I don't understand, but okay.”

“It's a matter of how my Mother would want to interact with you, not how you would want to interact with her,” I explained, which... well, it was an elaborate way of saying, 'it's not you, it's her.' But it was also true and Himiko understood that without a fight. When it came to 'other people' she could still only model them in an academic sense rather than see them as greater than the sum of their independent characteristics and traits.

“Okay,” Himiko nodded, guilelessly accepting my judgment on the matter. “How is All Might doing?”

I clicked to a new screen once again, this time the All Might Tracker site. It was showing a significant uptick in his activity, but not as much as one might assume after he'd been completely healed and returned to youthful stamina. If anything, he was logging maybe five or six total hours per day as a hero.

“I believe Nezu has managed to convince him that working even a full eight hour day would tip his hand to All for One too much. Keeping his schedule to this level of activity helps maintain the illusion that he can't do more, while also giving him an excuse to stay home and parent Eri,” I explained, drawing the most likely conclusion that I could from the data available.

I very much doubt that Ersatz-Superman had just decided to stay home on his own and not save people, after all.

“That's good. The pictures you showed me of her were so cute,” Himiko stated, her eyes momentarily darkening. “Ostrich-Mask and Butler-jerk are jerks for being so mean to her.”

I gave a vague noise of assent, having already worked the topic over multiple times. I mean, really, what kind of idiot thought that handing a six year old – who'd just accidentally killed their father and been abandoned by their mother – over to a murderous germaphobic yakuza enforcer was a good idea?!

“No one will know you did it, will they?” Himiko asked me suddenly, a frown pulling at her face. “You should get credit.”

I snorted and shook my head. “I will, for other things. Not for this. This was... community service. Paying All Might back for everything he's done. Karma, maybe. He doesn't get to know who I am, how to repay me, or anything about me for this.”

Himiko pursed her lips, then nodded and began pulling off her clothes.

I blinked.

“Butler! Go set up the jewelry case in my room,” Himiko commanded as she continued to peel off articles of clothing.

Hearing the retreating footsteps of our household help, my eyes remained locked onto the girl in front of me as she pulled down her pants and panties in one clean move, then set them neatly to the side in a folded pile.

“Even if no one else knows, I will,” Himiko smiled at me as she knelt on the floor and reached for my belt. Obligingly, I raised my hips as she worked the buckle and pulled them down. “So I'm going to reward my husband for a good job.”

I sighed and leaned back as Himiko dipped her head forward and began to work on my dick.

Honestly? I'd take this over a stupid medal or a parade any day.

~~~

...what am I doing? 'Last chapter of Mind Games for the month,' my ass.

Ugh, okay, I'm going to go do something else, now.

For real this time.

All of you can enjoy the warm fuzzies of a rest chapter with Himiko and Hitoshi just chilling. Slightly risque piece there at the end.

I'll have the polls for September out in an hour or so, after I eat.

Mind Games - Chapter 36

“So how does this all work?” Yagi Toshinori asked, cocking his head at the screens. “I've never been on this side of things before.”

Eraserhead sighed from the corner of the room he was leaning against.

Nezu simply chuckled, waving his paw at the banks of monitors before them. “Oh, it's quite simple. All of the tests are being recorded from multiple angles and will be reviewed in detail later. Our on-site evaluation right now is mostly a matter of the students' safety. As teachers and seasoned heroes, my staff and I must be available to respond to any potential accidents or disruptions to the testing environment.”

Toshi nodded, humming under his breath. “I see, so...”

“Just pick a monitor and stare at it for a while,” Aizawa interjected with a grunt. “If you see anyone that you think stands out for any reason, make a note about it. Good or bad.”

Nezu nodded, his beady eyes skimming over the relatively unremarkable crowd they'd gotten this year. Oh, there were some diamonds in the rough, but there was also quite a bit of rough in that equation. “Particularly if you think there's anyone that you'd like to take under your wing personally, unless your plans for a successor have changed with recent events?”

All Might took a breath, his eyes glancing over at Eraserhead, who gave an unimpressed shrug and kept watching a girl who... if Toshinori had to guess, her quirk revolved around the manipulation of centripetal force given how she was twirling like a ballet dancer.

“I'd hoped we would see her among the potential entrants,” Toshi murmured, one hand on his chin.

Nezu hummed, accepting the answer for what it was. “I'll assume you mean the vigilante, Perspicacious Mauve Avenger.”

Aizawa made an aggravated sound behind them at the name. “I'm not sure I should be thrilled or terrified at the prospect that she thinks she owes me one.”

Nezu tittered, his cup of tea clattering slightly as his own laughter made his form quiver, the saucer and cup moving along with it. “Ah... I have to admit it's been quite some time since someone so brazenly manipulated me. And to such incredible ends!”

Eraserhead suppressed the twitch that was building above his eye.

“I do hope she didn't put you too far out of your way with her scheme,” All Might murmured, his eyes glancing over a rabbit heteromorph. Likely one of Mirko's extended family, though precisely because of that they never tended to make it in the hero business. It was a sad truth of their world that a single event was a novelty, recurring ones were duplicates and knock-offs.

Mirko had inspired her family, it was true, but they were doomed to linger in her shadow unless they pulled up roots and moved to America or Europe. Although, one had bucked the trend and gone 'Down Under,' now operating under the name 'Wallaby.' He wondered if this girl was going to join the 'Rabbit Gang' here in Japan or end up overseas?

“Oh, think nothing of it... though I do wonder if she knew that I'd have backup waiting in the wings for Eraserhead. It makes me wonder if I've grown too predictable for someone like this vigilante to judge that I wouldn't send them to reinforce you instead of Aizawa.” Nezu cocked his head, his gaze on a boy with stark white skin shooting scales at the robots.

“It would be a predictable call to make for anyone,” Eraserhead stated, stepping up and flexing his limbs tiredly. “No one would see any way to justify sending backup to help the Number One while leaving an underground hero like myself to fend for themselves.”

Nezu nodded slightly, “But the fact that they were then positioned perfectly to help detain and arrest the Shie Hassaikai members that All Might had defeated? It leads one to wonder.”

“How's the public taking the news, anyway? There were too many cameras at the scene to keep things quiet,” Aizawa noted, looking at Toshinori.

The blond giant's hand reflexively moved to his side before he stilled it and forced it into a more natural pose. “Nezu's recommendation that we make an announcement that it was a unique quirk interactions with Kai Chisaki's quirk seems to have led many to believe the change in appearance is only skin deep.”

“It was, indeed, very lucky that Shota was on-hand and in communication with me when this incident went down,” Nezu chimed in again, nearly vibrating in his seat. “Why, if I hadn't been available for consultation, someone might have done something silly! Like tell the truth! Haha! Very lucky indeed!”

Toshinori winced and ducked his head, taking the criticism on the chin. He'd often been told he was too honest for his own good – his secret former-injury and the true nature of his quirk aside – though he found being 'too honest' to be a better trait than the opposite.

Or... he had, at least.

Until recently.

“What's that one?” Toshinori asked, pointing at one of the monitors off to the side. “Is that Thirteen?”

“She drew the short straw this year,” Eraserhead confirmed with a nod. “Those are the recommendation students. The brats.”

“Now, now Shota...” Nezu chastised lightly, a smirk on his face. “They aren't all quite that bad.”

Aizawa grunted in response, narrowing his gaze as he watched a puffed-up boy who hadn't even bothered to take off his blazer complete the obstacle course in mediocre time... the strut around like he'd just earned a medal. “Too much ego, too few skills. They act like they're already licensed heroes just because they got a little training on the side from someone who thought they might have potential.”

All Might frowned. “I wasn't that bad, was I?”

Nezu chittered with laughter. “Hardly, Yagi-san, hardly. While we do have a number of recommended students who exhibit... hmm, 'attitudes in need of correction,' let's say... there is a reason why we have so few recommendation slots. Losing out in that practical exam gives them a chance to take the general admission practical and push themselves harder as a result.”

“Ah,” Toshinori nodded. “So, do you hold a makeup exam, or...”

“We,” Nezu stated pointedly, “actually hold three entrance exams every year. The recommended students have their exam on the first day, allowing any students who do not earn a place using that method to schedule a slot in either of the next two general exams.”

“Doing it this way also allows us to see what those with recommendations are like when they're mingling with the rest of the potential student body,” Aizawa added. “Although their test is nominally only an obstacle course, we've pushed several of the highest-performers into the general test simply as a wake up call based on how they treat the people around them.”

“Speaking of which, Aizawa... Bootstrap is up next,” Nezu stated, nodding at the monitor.

“Bootstrap?” All Might perked up. “Ah, Endeavor's young ward?”

“Oh, you know him? I'm somewhat surprised,” Nezu commented, turning to look at the blond hero. “You don't usually take notice of up and comers in the industry until they're active.”

“I, uh... caught one of his HeroTube videos,” All Might stated, then awkwardly cleared his throat. “He seems like a bright young man with his head on straight. Smart, insightful, and passionate about doing good in society, even if I don't entirely agree with how pragmatic his approach is.”

Or maybe he just didn't like the fact that someone so young was so pragmatic about things? There were moments where the boy's true belief in heroism shone through, though, and those were especially gratifying.

In any event, there was no need to mention the fact that he'd initially caught wind of Bootstrap and Buster's channel through their viral karaoke rendition of Hakuna Matata.

It had been one of the few times he'd been thankful for so thoroughly poisoning his HeroTube algorithm selections by watching ancient superhero media from before the dawn of quirks. Especially because little Eri had looked so in awe and amazed the first time he'd put on one of the old Disney movies for her after he'd accidentally left Bootstrap's rendition of Eye to Eye playing in the background on his laptop while working.

All Might leaned forward and watched as the young hero-intern took off like a shot from the starting line. “Is he wearing a hero uniform? Is that allowed?”

Nezu nodded. “All personnel on UA grounds have a right to wear their costumes or uniforms as long as they maintain an active hero license.”

Aizawa picked up the explanation when All Might's expression turned slightly incredulous. “Non-Combat, Rear-Echelon License.”

Surprise and realization flared in All Might's blue eyes as he watched the purple-haired boy on the screen take a climbing wall with a stunning parkour maneuver he'd rarely seen the like of. Then, at the peak of the wall, he popped out a piece of support gear – a collapsible longbow – and plugged an arrow into the shoulder of a villain-bot holding a hostage.

“Impressive for an Office Hero,” All Might murmured.

“Indeed,” Nezu nodded, his eyes narrowing on the image. “Endeavor has been particularly effusive with his praise regarding Bootstrap as well as his other intern, Toga Himiko. She acquired a recommendation from Hot Ice and will be taking the test soon as well.”

There was a sudden ringing and Nezu blinked before reaching into a pocket and unfolding a small flip-phone. “Hello? Oh, Hot Ice! May I ask for the reason... I see, yes, he's undergoing the test right now.... oh my! How very clever! I'll see that it's noted in his file!”

Nezu turned to Aizawa and Yagi with a wide grin as he hung up the phone, both with curious expressions. “It appears that, prior to his exercise, young Bootstrap called in and notified his agency that he was going to be engaging in combat with one or more villains here at UA.”

Eraserhead blinked, then leaned back with a thoughtful look. “It's part of the standard instruction to all students ahead of the tests to treat the exam as if it were a real crisis.”

All Might began to chuckle, feeling himself grin as he watched the boy in question quickly diagnose a 'broken leg' on a civilian stand-in dummy, then pick it up and deliver it behind an overturned car to a robotic mannequin dressed as a police officer.

“Dibs.”

Nezu and Toshinori both turned to the underground hero.

“Dibs. He's in my class this year,” Shota stated, crossing his arms as if daring either to contradict him.

“You'll be using one of your slots, then, I take it?” Nezu asked thoughtfully.

Aizawa grunted, nodding. “The first thing he did when told to treat the exam as a real crisis was to call for backup. It's an impressive feat of logical reasoning.”

“Slots?” Toshinori asked, looking between the principal and teacher.

“I extend a significant amount of autonomy to my staff in deciding whether or not to admit or advance students,” the anomalous ursine-rodent replied. “As such, although the official number of students in each class is twenty, there are an additional five slots open for the teacher in question to fill with their own picks. Often, these slots lie fallow given that our tests already select for the best and brightest, but occasionally someone falls through the cracks and deserves a chance to prove themselves.”

“Usually after the Sports Festival,” Aizawa added with a shrug. “I got picked up like that my first year. Robots aren't the best opponents to show off my quirk against, but the experience of being shuffled into the general education block taught me valuable lessons.”

All Might nodded slowly. “I see. That does explain why my own class was twenty-three students, I suppose. I'd always wondered about that.”

For a long moment, no one spoke as the young hero completed the last leg of the obstacle course, a fifty-foot gap that the students were supposed to cross. The boy barely paused, shooting a dozen arrows in rapid succession into the concrete wall on one side of the gap. Immediately after, he used them like stepping stones, quickly leaping from one to the other before they could snap under his weight.

Toshinori rubbed at his chin again.

The boy is intelligent, insightful, clever, uses his resources well, and has a good heart buried under the cynicism and pragmatism he likes to front with.

“Granted, that's far from our maximum operating load as far as students go,” Nezu waved the top hero off. “If I feel its warranted, I have the authority and resources to hire another home room teacher and recruit specialists to expand each track by two classes.”

“Why don't you?” The blond hero asked, though it was Aizawa who answered.

“Because the hero system is already saturated with lazy half-wits that barely do their job,” Eraserhead stated, his eyes briefly glowing red. “It's better to let the diploma-mills churn out half-rate heroes than lower UA's standards. Isamu Academy is proof enough what happens when you go down that route.”

All Might grimaced slightly. Isamu was a generally good school. Not on the 'Big Three' level – that being UA, Shiketsu, and Ketsubutsu – but certainly on Seiai or Seijin's tier.

Or, it had been until a few years ago. A few of their graduates had formed an agency after graduation, something that was common enough, but they'd been rather thoroughly implicated in a smuggling ring. Given that every ranking member had been a graduate of Isamu Academy, the school's reputation had taken a serious hit that they were still struggling to recover from.

Perhaps Young Bootstrap's perspective is more realistic than I'd like to admit?

“What'd Thirteen give him?” Aizawa asked, interrupting All Might's spiraling thoughts.

“Ninety-three out of a hundred,” Nezu replied, smiling widely. “The highest for the recommendation exam this year so far. Slight point deduction for the potentially-serious injury on the villain robot with the hostage and another for some property damage he did to a few of the mock vehicles, but very good overall.”

“I want him in my class,” Aizawa repeated. “I've seen licensed pros that couldn't make a run that clean. Half the kids this year don't even seem to understand they're supposed to save the hostage stand-ins.”

All Might hummed in thoughtful agreement. Although he didn't have much experience in evaluating young heroes, this crop of potential seemed... rather lacking, if he was brutally honest. Their quirks were strong enough, to be sure, but their motivation was lackluster, their performance rather mediocre, and none of them appeared to want to excel.

Was... was this the best that Japan had to offer?

He caught his reflection against one of the monitors standing off to the side, the faint silhouette of his new youthful appearance catching him off-guard again. It had only been a few days, after all, and he suspected it would keep happening until the man in the mirror was no longer a stranger, no longer someone he never thought he'd see again.

Nineteen. That's what Recovery Girl said when she compared my records. I even lost the fillings I'd had in the interim. I really did have my clock rolled back. Little Eri's quirk is a marvel.

Now if she would only stop bursting into tears when he told her that.

But recovery would be a long road, he knew.

His fingers found his chin again, searching for the almost-invisible scar he'd earned in a battle against the villain Kevlar while in America and finding only smooth skin. He'd never expected to miss that old badge of honor so much.

Would he ever receive another one like it?

How long would it take? Either for that or another serious injury?

Another one like that man had given him?

'A Phone Call is Here! A Phone Call is Here!'

Toshinori winced at the scathing glare from Eraserhead and the amused chittering of Nezu, his hand immediately going to his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Yes? This is All Might.”

The top hero felt his eyes widen at the reply. “He's awake, really? And he's offering information on-”

All Might felt his gut clench and his blood turn to ice water in his veins.

“Take everything down!” Toshinori barked into the phone, an edge of command entering his voice. “I'll be there – wait, what?!”

Another few seconds of frantic talking as the situation on the other side got worse and worse.

Toshinori took a deep breath. “I see. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Looking at his phone as he pulled it away from his ear, he noted the hairline cracks in the case and screen, both of which were specialty materials David produced on I-Island that were made to withstand extreme stress.

Yet another mark against my control.

“Something is clearly wrong,” Nezu stated, a plain prompt for information.

For a moment, Toshinori glanced at Aizawa and debated disclosing what had happened, but pushed past the momentary doubt. The other man had shut down Eri's quirk, kept Overhaul pinned after he'd slammed him through a meter of concrete into unconsciousness, and likely saved his own life by halting the backwards flow of time which had undone his injury. Circumstance had already forced his hand in disclosing that much to the disheveled teacher, and Nezu had assured him the man could handle the secret of his search for a successor as well.

“Kunikida Naburo woke up from the coma Chisaki put him into,” All Might stated, succumbing to the urge to rub at his chin again. “We think that, given his own regressed age, Chisaki or one of his men attempted to use a sample of Eri's quirk factor to heal him and return him to power over the Shie Hassaikai.”

“Logical reasoning,” Eraserhead noted.

“But when he woke up and realized what had happened, he started offering information,” All Might continued with a scowl. “To cut a deal.”

The underground hero scoffed, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “Normally, I'd say there was nothing valuable enough to even begin to touch the kind of sentence he's looking at, but your face says differently.”

Nezu hummed, his eyes sharpening. “I'd very much like to be wrong about the guess I'm about to make, Toshinori. Having known you as long as I have, and given your history, there are few enough things that could make you react like that.”

All Might swallowed, forcing the bile in his throat back down. “He said he had information on the man he'd acquired Chisaki Kai from, as a child. A man who could give and take quirks.”

Aizawa's eyes widened. “I've heard those rumors before, in criminal communities, but the way you're talking...”

“I'll brief you in full later, Shota,” Nezu nodded, “but suffice to say, those rumors and legends refer to a very real figure. One we'd thought – hoped – was long dead by now.”

“It gets worse,” All Might announced, his eyes glancing over the young heroes-to-be... the children that he'd failed by not ensuring the death of that monster. “After he began to provide information to the officer on-site, he cried out and slipped under the table, disappearing. They're searching the facility now, but...”

“It's unlikely to turn up any kind of clues,” Nezu nodded, frowning. “We'll need to order Overhaul moved to a secret location. Perhaps even Tartarus itself while he awaits trial.”

“I'll go assist in the search,” Toshinori stated, turning towards the door.

“Not that I would presume to give orders to the number one hero,” Nezu called out, stopping the blond in his tracks, “but given the unlikely chance you'll find anything substantial, let along be of use in the investigation itself... I think staying here and helping to evaluate these prospective students would be a better use of your time.”

Toshinori opened his mouth to object, but Nezu continued.

“Especially given the state of your quirk,” the principal pointed out ruthlessly.

The blond hero grimaced, looking back down at the phone in his hand again.

There were more cracks in it.

“I'll... need a moment, in that case,” All Might forced himself to admit, heading towards the door and stepping out in the hallway, away from the darkened cave that was the monitor room.

He is alive. Alive! All these years...

He drew his fist back, slammed it forward, and only barely stopped himself in time. Even then, though, there was still a spiderweb of cracks from the pressure alone, slicing through the reinforced concrete of the school's structure.

“Just because we have Cementoss on staff doesn't mean you should feel free to damage school property,” Eraserhead's voice came from behind him, the sound of a door closing punctuating it.

“I-I'm sorry,” All Might stated, his shoulders slumping as he reached up to rub at his eyes. “This... what we were talking about... it's very personal, for me.”

He felt Shota's gaze on him for a moment longer, then heard the man walking closer before seeing him lean against the wall nearby. “I get that. Nezu told me enough about your quirk after the incident that I can fill in the blanks now that I know about this.”

Toshinori jerked his head in a terse nod.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“You have a son, don't you?” Toshinori finally asked, forcing his mind onto another subject. Later, when he had time to brood over the other subject, he'd return to it. When he had privacy.

“I do,” Shota nodded, reaching into a pocket and producing a packet of liquid food ration, the kind Toshinori had seen military men pass around a few times. “What of it?”

Toshinori forced himself to breathe. “Any words of advice for a prospective parent?”

The underground hero paused at that, mid-suck on his pouch, and gave the top hero a searching look while slowly swallowing. “Yeah. Make sure you're not taking care of her for some stupid reason, like you think you owe it to her. Or that you need to protect her. That girl will need a parent. Someone who loves her. Not a bodyguard.”

All Might grimaced, his thoughts having been going down exactly that path. Eri had returned his youth to him. With the revelation that he was almost certainly still alive, the girl who'd given him his life back needed to be protected at all costs. Not just for her own safety and happiness, but also because of the dire consequences that could result from her quirk falling into the wrong hands.

But Aizawa Shota was right. That would be doing the girl a disservice, to protect her out of a sense of obligation instead of genuine love and affection.

“Anything else?” Toshinori asked, mulling the answer over.

“Hmm... don't bother with any of those Parenting for Dummies books,” he replied after a moment's thought. “They're all a crock of shit.”

All Might opened his mouth to ask how the other man knew that, then decided it would probably be both rude and too personal to do so.

“There's no right way to raise a kid,” Aizawa continued, sighing. “There's only what works and doesn't work for you. And you'll know what doesn't work pretty damn quick, trust me. They'll make sure of it.”

Despite himself, Toshinori let out a snort of amusement.

“I'm going back to watch more teenagers make fools of themselves,” Aizawa stated, taking a step off the wall and nodding at All Might. “You coming?”

Despite the urge to find a particularly deserving villain to take his frustrations out on, Toshinori nodded and followed Eraserhead back into the monitor room.

~~~

Alright, last chapter of Mind Games for the month. And a good chapter to tie several plot threads up and leave space for some new ones.

Next Mind Games will return to Hitoshi as he and Himiko recover from the exam and settle into their lives more fully now that everything is a little less hectic.

Or so they'd like to believe.

Look forward to a few last surprises life has to throw at Hitoshi before UA.

Thank you for your support!

Where Your God Is - Chapter 18

So, to recap, I needed to make a split-second decision after being confronted with the consequences of my actions. In particular, these consequences manifested in the form of the princess of the forest elves and the daughter of the dark elves' chieftain fighting to the death in an encounter that was supposed to signal the beginning of the <<Elf War>> questline for a party.

Now, in theory, killing the princess could actually solve a lot of problems.

She was fairly important in the late-game of the war's events, so removing her might just cause the entire thing to kind of sputter out and die. The PvP didn't really start to manifest until the larger battles happened on Floor Five anyway. If the heir to the throne was dead, then the program might glitch and just assume that the dark elves won the war, turning later events into non-starters.

In theory.

I wouldn't bet on it, though.

<<Cardinal>> had a lot of subroutines that were intended to deal with Player Bullshit in all of its horrible glory. It was entirely possible that some department had wargamed the possibility of a player faction or guild deciding to assassinate the NPC leaders of one of the elf war's two primary combatants. The argument could be made, of course, that such tactics were fair game in a PvP environment given that it would disallow the rival faction to continue giving quests and advancement lore.

That wasn't why they'd do it, though.

These people – my people – were chaos gremlins that would kill god just to see if the server lagged.

And that was assuming they would have a reason in mind at all.

I had personally done plenty of crazy shit just to see if I could while in the alpha and beta.

Granted, I was getting paid real money to see if arson worked in the in-game environment, but the point stood. Lighting random shit on fire and giggling demonically as the skies went dark with ash was great fun... as long as there weren't permanent consequences.

Here and now, though? There were a lot of permanent consequences.

In particular, the most likely outcome of killing the princess? I'd put good money on it whipping the forest elves into a frenzy and kick-starting early mass combat events that weren't supposed to happen on this floor. The result from that would likely be a lot more people dying a lot earlier than they needed to.

So killing either of the hot elf girls was right out.

Instead, I shot forward and rammed the hilt of my katana, clenched in my fist, into Triniel's gut.

Or I tried to, at least.

The blonde elf's eyes widened dramatically and, with a speed and flexibility I didn't think she possessed, barely managed to get out of the way of my attack.

“Vermin! You shall not take me alive!” Triniel shouted, flourishing her blade.

“Bitchabouttogettakenalivesayswhat?” I spat back at her rapidly.

She blinked. “Come again?”

This time I connected, and the digital breath was flushed from her lungs at the impact of my hilt of her upper abdomen.

[Knockout]

The skill flared to life, and the special effect activated, bestowing a status effect on the elf girl.

An orange tag popped into existence right under her ID tag, floating above her head.

[UNCONSCIOUS]

I sighed as I carefully lowered her to the ground, her health such that I didn't really want to do more damage than I had to at this point. “You ruined the joke.”

Kayaba-sensei hadn't initially been all that receptive to the idea of 'non-lethal' damage, rightfully pointing out that IRL, all damage could theoretically be considered lethal. I hadn't really fought him on that point, given that he was both correct and we'd need to rework the physics engine to account for the different damage types by that point.

I would have gotten tarred and feathered by the dev teams if we'd gone down that road.

Instead, I'd argued for the inclusion of a set of combat skills – Sword Arts – that would have a percentile chance of dealing a type of damage that would incapacitate first. Pointing out to sensei that there were people who had skills IRL relating to knocking enemies unconscious without doing overmuch physical damage to them had sold the idea.

Why had I done so?

Because pacifist routes were fairly popular, and enticing SAO players with the idea of a full MMORPG no-kill run would net us huge amounts of secondary press virtually for free in the gamer communities.

“Kirito?” Kizmel asked, her body still tense as she watched me stand guard over the now-unconscious forest elf. “Will you not finish her off?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head as I nudged the woman with my boot carefully. I really didn't need her playing possum just to stab me in the gut. “She'll do better as a hostage than as a martyr to rally the forest elves around.”

Kizmel breathed in sharply before her shoulders slumped. “You always see two steps ahead, my friend.”

“Kirito! What was all that?!” Leafa demanded as she walked up, causing me to wince. “After warning us about not running off so much, you do the same exact thing!”

“Ah, Leafa! You're here too!” Kizmel cried, turning to my sister. “It's so good to see you!”

“Oh, um... you too?” Leafa asked, very obviously caught flat-footed as she turned to the dark elf AI, which...

Well, I couldn't say I wasn't also caught off-guard as well. Glancing between Leafa and Kizmel, it really seemed like the latter actually recognized the former, which... well, it meant something, for sure. I didn't know if it meant that the individual AI had more access to the files from the beta than I'd previously considered... or if the way I'd 'summoned' Kizmel had triggered some kind of glitch in the system, causing her to 'remember' all of our interactions. Those same interactions would, by necessity, involve Leafa, considering we'd gone through most of the Elf War Quest together.

I shook my head, both literally and metaphorically, to clear the intrusive thoughts.

Current crisis now, Turing Tests later.

“Leafa, you've got the rope, right?” I asked, having off-loaded a substantial amount of my inventory now that we were seeing regular combat.

Encumbrance was a thing, after all, and even if I had a stat line to beggar most of the floor bosses at this point, I didn't want things to get too dicey.

“Rope?” Leafa asked, blinking as she turned to the downed elf woman. “We're taking her with us? But I thought the event...”

I nodded. “I'll explain later, but the situation's changed. Besides, I think we've triggered the quest anyway. Kizmel obviously recognizes us as part of the Dark Elf Faction, right?”

Addressing the smiling woman, she nodded, slightly confused. “Of course. Kirito and Leafa are my dear friends. We've been through a great deal together. Any of their friends are welcome to accompany us as well, of course.”

The last part was directed at Sinon, Argo, Asuna, and Mito, all of whom were now coming out of the treeline and into the clearing that the battle had taken place in.

“What's going on? Aren't you going to finish her off?” Sinon asked, looking at the blond elf.

“Finish her-?!” Asuna jerked, looking between the blue-haired girl and the downed blond. “That's a person!”

Mito twitched slightly, looking as though she was going to speak before grimacing, her mouth shutting and lips pinching into a thin white line.

“It's a monster,” Sinon replied bluntly, her eyes cold and her reply confused. “An elf can kill you just as easily as a goblin, Asuna.”

I sighed and held up a hand. “Not the time. Situation's complicated. We're taking her back to the dark elf encampment. Leafa, rope?”

My sister blinked and shook herself before opening up her inventory. “R-right! Rope!”

“What's changed, Kiri-bou?” Argo asked, intentionally putting herself between Sinon and Asuna, but ignoring both of them to focus on me. If one didn't know Argo, they could interpret it as an accident easily enough. I don't think Asuna or Sinon were actually fooled by the tactic, though. The former was a socialite and the latter knew her too well to be tricked.

Nevertheless, they used the opportunity to let Argo break their staring contest.

“Look at her ID tag,” I replied, nodding at the blond as I concentrated on tying her up.

“Fufufu... Kiri-bou wants me to watch as he ties up a pretty girl-oh,” Argo started in strong on the teasing, then twitched as she noticed the name. “Oooooh shit. That's Triniel, isn't it?”

In the background, I noticed Mito's eyes widen.

“Triniel?” Asuna asked, frowning. Sinon, though quiet, looked equally confused.

“She's the forest elf's princess,” Argo replied with a grimace. “Basically, she's supposed ta' be end-game content for da' quest. Like... floor eight? No way she should be here right now.”

Argo paused, then sent me a look before flicking her eyes towards Kizmel.

I gave her a tiny grimace, then shrugged, before turning back to the unconscious elf.

“It could be a product of the virus,” I replied, off-handedly. “I don't know the parameters they changed, so including a KO of a faction leader's daughter in the first event might be a trap to dramatically increase PvP by making the entire <<Elf War>> event more hostile.”

“Since the floor nine stuff involves potentially ending the war by negotiating peace, if ya' play yer cards right...” Argo muttered, nodding along as she played along.

Sinon had a vaguely suspicious look on her face, but shrugged it off while Leafa hummed thoughtfully. Strangely enough, it was my sister among our group who could keep a secret from me the best. I rarely had any idea what she was actually thinking, even given that I'd known her the longest.

“So what do we do with her?” Asuna asked, looking around our group. “Because we're not killing her!”

“She will be a hostage,” Kizmel stated with a nod towards me. “The Shadowblade has decreed it, so mote it will be.”

I felt my cheeks burst into a fresh blush as I dipped my head between my shoulders.

Argo, Leafa, and Sinon all began snickering behind me.

“The Shadowblade.” Mito's voice spoke up, an existential crisis torn between suppressed laughter and deadpan snark obvious in her voice.

“Tis Sir Kirito's name as an <<Elf Friend>>,” Kizmel stated proudly. “As someone who has offered great help to the Dark Elves in the past, he was rewarded with a noble name indicative of his contributions and the nature of his skills.”

The purple-haired scythe-wielder was silently shaking by the time Kizmel had finished.

Argo leaned towards Mito and stage-whispered to her. “The ten players who performed the best during the Elf War as a whole got a bonus title once the quest line was finished.”

“That's... actually very impressive, Kirito,” Asuna congratulated me seriously, though it was slightly awkward and a bit strained. She knew exactly how edgy and juvenile the name sounded, but wasn't familiar enough with gamer culture to know that it was downright encouraged to give someone shit over an awesome achievement that resulted in something kind of lame and stupid.

“Thank you Asuna, I appreciate the understanding and support,” I replied scathingly, giving the rest of my party the evil eye. “Just for that, no one else gets any loot.”

“Now hold on there, Ki-chi!” Argo simpered, sliding up to me. “Let's not be too hasty... even if it's a silly name, ya' do wear it well!”

“One day I want to see exactly how far she'll go with the right bribe,” Sinon remarked thoughtfully, not really meaning the double-entendre, but planting it all of our heads. “What's she got, anyway?”

“Hmm...” I muttered, activating another skill.

[Pickpocket]

This was the real perk to being able to knock an enemy unconscious. Beating any mob or boss made Cardinal roll a virtual die in the form of a random number generator. Sometimes only one, sometimes more; it all depended on the strength of the enemy you'd just defeated. The point, though, was that you'd only get a very small selection of items from the wider possible variety that they could be carrying.

If you knocked them unconscious instead of killing them, however...

“Let's see... we've got a tiara, which is a magic item,” I stated, manifesting the loot one piece at a time. “A hefty sack of coins, which looks to have platinum pieces in it, so nice, a max-upgraded and enchanted elven curved blade that will require a special proficiency to use...”

I paused, absently noting that I could remove Triniel's garments if I wanted, which was new...

Is that a bug? A feature of everyone in the party having the NSFW switch flipped? I can't imagine even Kayaba would be looney enough to go that far.

I only knew that Asuna had changed her settings because I'd heard her complain to Mito about looking like a Barbie Doll in the mirror and finding it unnerving.

I shook my head to clear it, focusing on the next item in the list. “Oh, palace keys! Score! Hmm... small cache of gems for weapon upgrades. Those go to Leafa for parceling out later-”

My sister was a weapons geek and a filthy mix-maxer.

I was just so proud.

“Set of healing potions,” I pulled those out and handed them off to Argo. “Map of the Forest Elf Territory! Bingo!”

“Gimme!” The Rat demanded, seizing the scroll and cackling. “Come to Mama!”

“She also has a better bow than the one Sinon is using,” I called out, materializing a the weapon and its quiver. “I don't know if that needs a separate skill to use, you're the expert on ranged stuff.”

Sinon took it appreciatively, grinning as she looked over the weapon's stat line.

“I feel kind of bad for taking everything from her,” Asuna spoke in a not-too-quiet undertone to Mito.

“Worry not, friend of the Shadowblade-”

Insert juvenile snickering here.

“-it is the nature of the oppressive fair-skinned tyrants to hoard more than they need,” Kizmel scoffed at the bound figure. “She would do much the same were we at her mercy.”

“...and, last but not least, we've got her armor and an enchanted cloak,” I noted, then felt my eyebrows rise. “Dibs on the cloak. Mito, you might want the armor. It's not strictly better than what you've got, I think, but it fits your build if I recall correctly.”

“Give me a look,” Mito hummed, accepting the new armor.

Then I blinked. “Oh, magic boots and gloves, almost missed those. Hmm... I've got better stealth equipment. These can go to Leafa or Asuna, either or. Bonus to quiet movement and speed in forested terrain when worn as a set. Non-combat applications for Leafa, combat ones for Asuna.”

Handing them to my sister, she looked to Asuna and shrugged, stepping closer as they debated things.

“Nothing held in reserve for the one who battled her so stalwartly until you and your friends could arrive?” Kizmel asked, a slightly mocking undertone to the question.

I hesitated a moment. Technically, an NPC asking a question like that was just banter. It wasn't an actual invitation to share the loot... most of the time. There were hidden events you could unlock if you did so, though... sometimes.

But Kizmel was an AI and I'd just fucked up the quest's sequencing.

If there was ever a time to try something crazy and see if it worked...

After a moment thinking it over, I materialized the tiara.

It wasn't anything special, though my thief's skills told me it would sell for a nice bit. But without any buffs or enchantments to it, there wasn't even any point in doing that, really. A 'nice bit' of money here on the third floor was a pittance to someone who had entered the game with a maxed-out purse.

“Here,” I stated, grinning conspiratorially, watching her purple eyes widen. “Compensation for not letting you kill her. A trophy worthy of a princess.”

I could barely see Kizmel's cheeks darken, but ignored that for the moment as I hoisted the bound elf over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. “Well, let's get going! I don't want to spend anymore time than we already have out here where we can get caught by the enemy.”

In short order, my party and I were headed towards the dark elf encampment.

~~~

It's done! I did it!

I really don't want to know how long it's been since I updated this story, but I felt every day when getting back into the swing of things.

But it's done!

The conclusion of the cliffhanger we left off on with Kirito fighting the newly-revealed Elven Princess and trying not to make everything a lot worse than it already is.

Hope everyone enjoys this one!

Next update will be either more Mind Games or something else. Maybe New Ron or an Industrious chapter.

Mind Games - Chapter 35

“Whoa, hey... are you a student here?”

I blinked, turning towards the white-haired man wearing a pretty standard blue school blazer. Decent semi-athletic build that told me he either didn't have a physical enhancement quirk, or it was entirely modal in nature. The lack of a casual outfit, too, made me want to disregard him entirely. There was a written test, yes, but the practical hero exam would almost certainly require combat, even if you knew nothing about the test itself in specific.

At the very least, though, he had some level of confidence in his stance.

“No, I'm here for the entrance exam, same as you,” I shrugged.

White-hair gave me an odd look, his blue eyes shimmering with glitter-like sparkles. I'm sure he made girls swoon with that same look, which probably explained the confidence. “But... you're wearing a costume?”

I shrugged, my black jumpsuit shifting with the movement, the same with the sash at my waist. “They said to come in comfortable clothes that you can do physical activities in and won't restrict quirk usage.”

“You do know we're just taking the entrance exam, right dude? We're not even students yet, let alone pros,” he said, continuing to look at me weirdly as we walked towards the exam hall.

The part of me that had loved watching Eminence in Shadow internally debated intentionally fostering the misunderstanding that was inevitably going to occur. On the one hand, all I'd have to do to perpetuate it would be to say nothing and refuse to explain. A few chunni comments later and I'd be perfectly set up for the dramatic reveal.

On the other hand... I'd have to deal with the constant background noise of people giving me shit. Also, I'd put good money on at least one of the teachers deciding to spoil the surprise. It wasn't as if Endeavor hadn't sent over my Office Hero License, my internship information, and the supplemental quirk evaluation. I mean, it's possible that Nezu decided to just wing the entire thing with the most basic file to prevent preconceptions from leaking in, but I doubted it.

He might be a rat bastard, but he didn't tolerate people getting hurt on his watch, and letting chaos factors into the school was a good way to make that happen.

I opened my mouth to respond-

“Whoa! Y-you're Bootstrap, aintcha?!”

The boy passing me had suddenly stopped and double-taked at my appearance. Although I wasn't wearing the headscarf I'd taken as part of my look, I still had on the Kakashi-esque half-mask on and the outfit was pretty much a dead giveaway.

White hair blinked at the sudden intrusion into our conversation, leaning back a little in surprise.

The black-haired buff-dude approached me with a wide grin as I raised a hand. “Hey demon, it's me. Ya'boi.”

His eyes widened and a high-pitched squealing sound that should have emerged from a preteen girl poured out of his throat. “It is you! Dude, you're an inspiration! The reason I got into shape to become a hero! C-can I just-”

Obligingly, I reached out and took the teenager's hand, repressing the vague sense of disbelief that hung over my thoughts while I did so. It certainly didn't help that I could practically feel recognition sweep through the crowd of students as roughly half-

-fucking half of the glut of teenagers-

-turned to regard me with wide eyes, pointed fingers, nudges to their friends, and whispered assertions of recognition.

'Who is he? Never heard of him!'

'Girl, c'mon! He's like THE GUY! The dude who started the whole hero fitness channel thing!'

'Bootstrap? Holy shit, that is him! I knew his hair wasn't red!'

'OMG! I've got his entire karaoke set as a playlist!'

'Does he have a girlfriend?'

'Pft! Forget that! Does he have a boyfriend?'

'Jokes on you, I've got both parts! What a catch, not even a pro yet and he already has three hundred thousand followers!'

I felt a facial muscle twitch and violently suppressed the urge to punch myself from ten months ago in the face. I could do it, too. It would probably burn me out for the day, but it'd be worth it. That bastard deserved it, even.

“Booo~oooostrap-kun!”

Oh, there's my girlfriend here to make everything worse.

I sighed, then flexed my shoulders to give her the correct signal. We were both... prickly people, at times. Announcing her presence like that made sure I wouldn't accidentally interpret someone suddenly wrapping their arms around me as an attack rather than a display of affection.

Then my girlfriend slipped her hands around my torso and I accommodated, drawing further attention from the crowd as she nuzzled me like a cat...

...marking its territory. Huh.

Himiko and I hadn't properly talked out a third member for our relationship, though I knew she wanted one. Preferably, to my understanding of her mindset, it would be a cute girl she could get cuddly with. I think it was her way of resolving her more traditional upbringing and what she'd found on The Company's network about 'First Wife Roles.'

The, ahh... 'rational' move there was to find me a mistress that she approved of and wouldn't conflict with the dynamics of the relationship.

But I suppose a bunch of random people looking at me like I was a piece of meat set her off the other way.

“Hey Babe, you just got here?” I asked, mostly for the sake of the audience.

“Villain made my train late,” Himiko pouted. “Totally un-cute. Can't he at least fight off the tracks if he has to be a jerk like that?”

I chuckled as I slipped an arm around her shoulders and finally gave the crowd my attention, raising my other hand in greeting. “Yo! Some of you know me as Bootstrap. I'm a dude on the internet who does fitness videos and discusses hero-life topics and stuff. Right now, though, I'm just here to take the UA Entrance Exam. None of this is getting filmed, there aren't going to be any pictures, nothing like that.”

I paused, considering how to close things out as the muttering continued.

'That's gotta be Blondie!'

'Oooh! From the karaoke stream?! She's going to be a hero too?'

'I think I'm gonna cry tears of blood here, man. Dude has an internship with Endeavor, a huge HeroTube channel that's gotta make bank, and a hot girlfriend on top of it!'

'Hey, where's Buster? Did he get sick or something? No way my bro would miss this!'

'Idiot. Buster and Codename Pinkie are trying next year, they're not old enough to get into high school.'

“I wish you all the best of luck and hope you've prepared for the test like you should have,” I stated, raising my voice to speak over the crowd. Moving both hands towards the testing hall, I motioned like I was directing traffic. “Now, if we don't want to cause trouble for the UA staff and start off with a bad relationship, I'd suggest we all get in and situated for our exam.”

Several people stiffened, many more had their eyes widen, and others just turned to hurry into the exam room.

I sighed in relief and gave Himiko's head a pat, which earned me happy girlfriend noises.

“Well, I suppose it's good I didn't have to intervene, at least.”

I turned, nodding at the spacesuit clad hero. “Thirteen. Sorry about that. In hindsight, I suppose the Venn diagram of people who watch hero-motivational stuff and people who want to go here is basically a circle.”

There was a quiet rasp of laughter behind her speaker.

“Bootstrap,” the black hemisphere bobbed once in recognition before shifting subtly. “And Toga-san. We've been briefed on both of you. The UA faculty expect an exceptional showing.”

“We'll try to impress!” Himiko smiled, waving as she stood up properly and gave a quick bow.

Thirteen gave an echoing laugh from inside her suit. “I'm sure you will. Both of you. Now hurry along, you wouldn't want to be late.”

Himiko and I both bowed and moved off.

White-hair came up along my side, dipping his head politely. “Sorry about that, man. I, uh... didn't think you were-”

I shrugged, waving him off. “It's fine. Really, don't worry about it. You were just trying to make sure I wasn't breaking any rules, right?”

He colored, but nodded. “Yeah, I just... ah, shit. My name's Ooishi Tsuki, but with like – the character for melody instead for my family name.”

I blinked, then nodded, extending my hand. “Shinso Hitoshi. Just... don't spread it around too much. I'm planning to use Bootstrap around the school, mostly.”

“And I'm Toga Himiko!” My girlfriend interjected with a smile. “Hero name Carmilla!”

“Whoa, you both...” The teen shook his head, his shoulders slumping. “Man, and I thought I'd prepped for this!”

I chuckled. “Don't look at it like that. Himiko and I are interns. We've had training, but we've never really been in a proper villain fight using our quirks or anything-” That I can publicly admit to, anyway. “-most of what we do is filing paperwork and getting coffee.”

Himiko effortlessly backed my lie up as we crossed the threshold of the exam hall.

“That... does make it better, I guess,” Ooishi took a breath, then nodded and slammed his left fist into his right palm. “Okay. Time to crush this. Best of luck, dude!”

“Good luck to you too,” I nodded, using the traditional Japanese 'ganbatte,' even if it wasn't exactly the same thing. 'Luck' was something of a four letter word in this country. Instead, the word translated to something like, 'do your best.' It was implicitly understood that if you failed, you failed because of a lack of preparation or effort, not because random chance fucked you over.

Even if that was entirely a thing that happened.

“Good luck, Dear,” Himiko offered quietly.

“You too, Dear,” I murmured, watching her visibly inflate from the burst of happiness that gave her.

Walking to our very different sections – different schools – we both sat down and waited for the written portion to be handed out.

…

The test was a test.

I'm sure I would have found it challenging... if I wasn't me.

Or didn't have my advantages.

But I was and did.

Which is why it wasn't, and why I'd excused myself early for a bathroom break.

Because even the sociopathic gerbil himself, Nezu, wouldn't put cameras in the bathroom. I mean, I'm sure he tried and I checked anyway, but someone had probably put their foot down at some point in the process and it hadn't actually happened.

I opened the portal against the wall of the bathroom stall and stepped through to my Apartment.

My Home was still on order.

Because while I'd verified the Rat Bastard didn't have cameras in the bathroom, I wouldn't put it past him to have planted listening devices in the vents or something.

“Okay, I'm actually kind of busy here and I know that you know that, so I'm curious what could be so urgent that you'd call me while I'm occupied with one of the only important things I actually have to do in the near future that I can't adjust the timing on,” I stated bluntly.

“Hello to you too, Contractor,” Velma replied, her voice dry.

“I am in one of the highest security buildings in the country and its run by a one-raccoon surveillance state. You've got ten minutes, max, before Nezu decides I've been in the bathroom long enough to send a teacher to check and make sure I'm sick,” I replied, my voice tight.

“Alright, alright. I'll make this quick,” my liaison relented. “My bosses put pressure on me to call as soon as I could and you are technically on break right now. Long story short, someone made a complaint about your situation. We think it was a nosy middle-manager.”

“Were they complaining that I got fucked over and sent to a mislabeled pit of eldritch abominations or were they complaining that I was receiving undue favoritism to counterbalance the mistake?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Even if The Company wasn't actually the Celestial Bureaucracy in truth, there were a great deal of common elements between the two in structure and mode of operation.

My memories of Tempestuous Fatespun Courtesan informed on how petty and malicious bureaucrats could be, in particular.

“The former rather than the latter,” Velma replied, making me relax.

Minutely.

“So I've been instructed to offer you some concessions, since the deal we made previously was – technically – under duress with you being kidnapped – as well as possibly concussed – and all,” she sighed. “First and foremost, in addition to the missions we've forwarded you, and we'll be working up a few more, your options in terms of acquisitions are opening back up. Objects, though, not people.”

All of that was true, and if I had a gun to my head, I'd admit that I made a mediocre – at best – choice in the haste of everything. Still, I wasn't the kind of person who bitched and whined when it wouldn't do me any good. I'd gotten enough concessions that the death trap was potentially survivable, and I'd wanted to be a hero anyway.

And this world needed a hero.

But, I also wouldn't turn down a nice bonus if one dropped in my lap. All I had to do was make sure there weren't any poisonous strings attached to the bargain.

Which, of course, was why Velma had called me as soon as possible while I coincidentally happened to be in a time-sensitive situation and there were surely no other reasons.

The objections, already half-formed on the tip of my tongue, died. “Mythos artifacts only? Or something else?”

“Mainly mythos artifacts,” she confirmed, “but we're willing to at least look at and bargain for anything suitably unique. There was some talk of opening up sales options for bound targets again, but our office still can't find another branch willing to do the dirty work of processing them without charging... well, let's just say it would be a lot easier if they only wanted arms and legs.”

“That's... actually decent news,” I stated slowly, cautiously. Being able to make more credits in exchange for removing hazardous objects from the world was not at all morally objectionable. Which made me concerned. “What's the catch?”

“The pay's shit,” she replied bluntly. “Flat rate commission, no consignment opportunities, and the containment units for safely shipping your finds cost a pretty penny, so until that's made back your margins are going to be even more shit than usual.”

I could live with that, and said as much.

“To start out, we'll give you two points for the statues,” Velma stated, her fingers flying over a keyboard. “Which will let you keep your ten point cushion and get that bike you've been eyeing.”

“I'll... sell them in a couple of days,” I replied, irritated that this offer had come now, when I was finally going to be able to safely examine the damn things. “Now that I've got the manse, I want to actually analyze the things.”

“Hmm... alright, but any damage will nix the sale,” Velma warned. “Next up, we're actually supposed to offer you something that you want. So if you'd like a discount on product or-”

“I want you to turn off the love confession binding.”

A burst of static as she sighed into the line. “Yeah, kind of figured. Okay, cutting to the point here, because you're on a time limit. You have more than enough reasons to legitimately go rogue against my branch of the Company. We're small and can be written off if middle-management thinks our assets divided up will be more useful than the sum of the parts as they exist right now.”

I remained silent, but nodded. When you had larger powers who could even vaguely profit by your own demise, it was pretty standard to find them circling like sharks or vultures at the first opportunity.

“So as much as I dislike my little corner of Hell,” Velma continued over my inner monologue heedlessly, “my life will probably get shittier if we get absorbed into a bigger branch. So I'm in agreement with my bosses that the best way to avoid that is to get you enough women – or cute twinks, I've read your file – so that you'll think twice before going rogue, escaping that reality, and killing my immediate bosses.”

I blinked, considering that ultimatum.

Which... made sense, I suppose. People with families to support were less likely to go start or participate in a revolution and I was... let's charitably call it 'relationship-averse,' even with Himiko. In fact, it would be an act of remarkable charity to call what we had a 'relationship' in the classic sense.

“You want me to have a bunch of women to take care of so I won't go on the warpath for sticking me on a deathworld,” I summed up, digesting the thought.

“So you can see why my bosses are hesitant to turn off the love confession binding,” she replied bluntly. “You're sticking to your guns on how you're using bindings, which has my branch office concerned. If you go ahead and build a harem, though...”

I didn't sigh, the beginnings of real anger bubbling up inside of me. “How likely do your files and simulations rate me going rogue if I end up with partners and spouses that irritate me and actively make my life harder?”

There was a moment of near-silence as the tapping of keys rang out.

“Five women and we turn the love binding clause off,” she stated.

“I have Himiko,” I stated. “We'll have a kid in five years at this rate. That should more than satisfy your bosses.”

“Fine, three,” Velma replied tiredly and I heard the rattle of her glasses being removed. “Jinkies, Hitoshi, I can't go any lower. Really. There have to be three women in that setting you can bind without losing your shit.”

I hesitated. Three? I already had Himiko and she'd made noises about getting me a mistress. Worst case... I wouldn't feel bad about binding Kizuki Chitose – Alias: Curious – into my service. Hell, the woman was crazy enough to see the restored youth and enhancement of her powers as an even trade. She was a CEO, too, they were all at least a little bit insane.

The third... Hatsume? Ragdoll of the Pussycats? I didn't have a full psych workup done for either of them, given they weren't immediately relevant, but they both seemed unstable enough to at least think about taking a deal. Or I could track down that crazy bitch from the second movie, the one with the hair...

“Three,” I confirmed, “the second I have three bound, you turn off the love confession mechanic.”

Velma heaved a sigh of relief. “Alright, that should-”

“I also want you to lift the quarantine,” I added, talking over any immediate rebuttal. “You want me to feel safe and secure raising a family, I need to be able to have a line of retreat open in case of emergencies. I want Exit Stage Left and We Will Meet Again. That's twenty credits, barely a blip.”

Velma took a deep breath. “Do you really have time for lengthy negotiations? I thought you were-”

“Going to let you run roughshod over me like last time?” I asked, humming. “On second thought, I can stay on the line as long as it takes. So what if I miss the practical? I've still got next year and its no skin off your nose, right?”

I leaned back and propped my feet up on the overcrowded coffee table strewn with stolen valuables as the woman on the other end of the line groaned.

“You're really going to self-sabotage to that level to get what you want?” Velma asked, playing for time.

“Define self-sabotage,” I replied blandly. “Because the way I see it, my hero career is the sideshow. It's a useful ruse and a comfortable disguise that allows me to see to Company duties in a more timely fashion with less hassle. What you and your bosses want, though, that's what my priorities should be. Agree or disagree?”

Velma was silent for a moment, obviously taking in the trap I'd laid out.

If she agreed that their priorities were the ones I should care about, then I was correct both in prioritizing this conversation as well as arguing for greater benefits, since that would (presumably) enable me to do my job better. If she disagreed, well... that would probably be a serious black mark on her record if this conversation ever came under review, and also meant that any concession on her part was tacitly negligible in the grand scheme of things because it would allow me to get back to 'what mattered' faster, which was the pending exam.

I had three more minutes to get out of the bathroom before I passed the estimation of what The Rat would consider suspicious and another fifteen past that to get to the testing zone since I'd finished the written exam early.

“This is why I hate dealing with Exalts,” Velma muttered. “You're all smug bastards.”

I remained silent, letting the pressure build on her.

“Alright, fine. Look, I can't raise the quarantine on you. Just can't. I have to kick that up the chain and that does legitimately take time.” I hummed at her explanation and she continued in a slightly less harried tone. “What I can swing, though, is a pass to the Bronze Tier of The Company's Lounge. They have the kinds of wards and security to handle an eldritch breach that we don't. You'll be able to meet with other Contractors and Agents and potentially make deals for useful merchandise. I even know a guy who sells lightsabers, I can hook you up.”

On the one hand... not what I wanted and not what would let me retreat. Even once I got my new Home, I still didn't trust those protections in a full on 'Stars Come Right' scenario apocalypse. I wanted to be able to bail on the MHA world if need be. I was heroic, not suicidal, and I'd seen enough Crisis events play out in various media to want an escape hatch for me and mine.

But access to what was effectively a trade hub of sorts could get me the tools to get what I needed... eventually.

“I'll take the Lounge Access in lieu of lifting the quarantine,” I stated, accepting the deal. Then, immediately pressing my advantage, I continued. “I also want Corruption Defense.”

“Are you serious?” Velma practically squawked.

“To cut the faux-outrage off before you get up to steam,” I interjected, “Yes, you've given me a credit payout and several relatively easy missions to cover up the fact that you dumped me into a world that has a substantially higher danger than it should. I do appreciate that, but I do not appreciate being forced into this position in the first place. I also do not appreciate trying to pin me against time-sensitive events to force me into making decisions like this. Fuck Around, Fine Out.”

“I don't have the authorization for a fifty-credit Major Defense, Hitoshi!” She stated, choosing not to fight me on my accusations. “I'd need to kick this up-”

“Then do it,” I replied, unflinching.

“I-” Velma started, then stopped as there was a noise in the background. “One moment.”

I blinked and pulled the phone away from my ear as hold music began playing. Raising an eyebrow, I stared at the device before looking at the clock again.

One minute.

Awesome.

I forced myself to relax.

The hold music clicked off. Velma sighed into the receiver. “Okay. Corruption Defense. Access to the Bronze Lounge. And we'll turn the Love Confession Binding off after three women. We'll send you a fully updated replacement contract and you can look it over at your leisure so you're not under a time constraint. This will replace your current contract and all previous agreements will be incorporated into it, indicating acceptance of your current situation and waiving any further right to bargain for compensation.”

I thought it over for a moment, and knew it wasn't enough.

Now that I was getting into UA, things would get more dangerous, even with the 'plot' a year away. I'd derailed that pretty thoroughly, though, and could no longer count on the stations of canon... if I'd ever been able to in the first place. The sane, rational thing to do was acknowledge that I was in over my head, take my ball, and go home. I'd past that point a long time ago, though.

“I'll look it over once I get it,” I replied instead. “Assuming everything is on the level, I'll sign it and get it back to you.”

“Good,” Velma sighed again. “And... for what it's worth, this was never personal, Hitoshi.”

“Just business,” I replied with a nod as I stood. “It always is.”

The line disconnected and I slipped the phone back into my pocket as I stepped back into the toilet stall I’d occupied, thankful that the Japanese-style public restrooms had floor-to-ceiling doors without those stupid shitty gaps for people to look through.  Making a show of flushing, I rattled the lock and stepped out, immediately heading for the sink to wash my hands.

Meeting my own gaze in the mirror, I steeled myself.

Even if I was confident in my own success, I’d need to take this seriously.

It was time to kick some ass.

~~~

So the UA Entrance Exam Begins!

...and, yes, I know I promised some reactions this chapter, but I needed space for a different scene and then things ran long. Specifically, this one is about 1k longer than usual, so there's that at least.

Next chapter I already have outlined and it will START with some Nezu/All Might/Aizawa conversation POV stuff right out of the gate. Super-duper promise

This week I'm going to work on that chapter of Where Your God Is and probably... something else. Not sure. Really want to get that SAO chapter done.

Thank you for your support and patience!

Butler Boy - Chapter 6

I looked down at the remaining ticket I had, frowning.

Dinner had just finished and, even though the days were getting longer, the sun still set pretty early, especially with the mountains arranged like they were. I had... maybe thirty minutes of daylight left, all things considered. As had become habit, I rubbed the shiny paper between my thumb and forefinger, hesitating.

“At this point, I'm just asking for something to happen,” I muttered, shaking my head.

The back lawn stretched out before me as I sighed, reaching over to pet Lincoln with one hand and keeping the ticket firmly grasped in the other.

Maybe part of me wanted this whole secrecy thing to be over? Honestly, I didn't see how a lot of superheroes did it, keeping up a lie like this. Though, Clark had his family and Bruce had Alfred – given I hadn't seen any news about Robin appearing – so maybe they didn't, actually? The contrary example was obviously Peter Parker, but Spider-Man's perpetual misery and loneliness were essentially a meme for good reason. Not that I didn't have a high opinion of his heroism, but the guy was a complete idiot as far as interpersonal relationships go.

The lesson there is clearly, 'Don't be Spider-Man, be Superman instead.'

...and after tearing two gold-tier tickets, I was already on the upper-end of superhumans. Hell, I was on the upper-end after using one.

I let the ticket drop into my lap and manifested a flame in the palm of my hand.

Lincoln blinked at the fire, but gave little indication he would care unless I stopped scratching him or food was involved. He was getting on in years and his joints were starting to get a little worse for the wear-

I blinked, crushing the flame as my body tensed and I looked over at one of my dogs as I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Gonna' need more syringes.”

The perk hadn't said anything about it being limited to humans, after all.

I could slip Addie a few bucks and she could pick some up from a pharmacy and bring them back. Maybe insulin syringes for diabetics would work? Or were they too small? I'd have to think about it.

...but healing one of the dogs of puppy arthritis kind of highlighted the problem. I didn't want to have to sneak around to do it. I was already getting irritated skulking around the house whenever I got a ticket and wanted to use the gacha. That was probably why I'd told Addie, beyond healing her at least. Planning to use a ticket like this was just asking for my powers to be revealed to my parents, because... well, I already kept plenty of secrets from them. The identities of heroes and villains, potential alien invasions, my own previous life in another reality, and more besides.

I kept those secrets for the benefit of others, mostly.

Or out of a lack of an ability to do anything productive with them.

No one would believe a random-ass kid shouting about a potential apocalypse that he, himself, admitted might not even come to pass.

There were so many DC continuities that I had no idea if Vandal Savage was ever going to build that time machine to go back to World War 2. Superman being mind controlled by Darkseid was a staple of comics, but would it happen here? Were the Court of Owls a thing? Would Young Justice happen or was I in a world where a giant T-shaped tower would get built?

No idea.

But... now that I had the ability to... I kind of wanted to be a part of that.

To help people. To do good. To fistbump Superman and see the Batcave in real life.

And I didn't want to have to hide that side of who I was from my family.

So what did all that mean, in practice?

“How about...” I paused, considering as I picked the ticket back up. “I use my tickets in private, or around Addie, and pay lip service to the idea that I'm trying to keep things secret, but... I don't try that hard?”

Lincoln tilted his head at me in doggy-incomprehension.

It was... something of the coward's way out, in truth. I knew that. I'd be avoiding a difficult and complicated conversation in favor of electing to have random chance take the choice out of my hands. The moment I pulled something I couldn't explain away or got caught doing something sufficiently supernatural, I'd be outed and be forced to come clean.

“Well, at least I'm deliberately invoking that trope instead of just stumbling into it,” I shrugged, snorting in amusement.

Then, with Addie in the bathroom, my parents doing dishes inside the house, and Algie seizing the opportunity presented by my lounging on the rear porch to watch his own shows, I ripped the ticket. I immediately heard the working of the great gacha machine in the sky, the fall of the capsule, and felt it manifest in my hand.

I took a breath and looked at Lincoln, who had perked up at the oddness.

Maybe dogs can sense something? Animals are usually depicted as being more attuned to magic.

I grinned, holding up the capsule to the dog, vaguely curious. “Well, what do you think, boy? Good luck, bad luck, or is it just absolutely cursed?”

Lincoln cocked his head, leaned forward, and took the gacha capsule in his jaws.

My own jaw dropped and I stared at the huge dog.

“You little shit,” I spoke in a whisper, narrowing my gaze. “Give it back.”

Lincoln's tail began wagging, which was a bad sign.

The absolute worst sign, in fact.

“Don't you fucking dare,” I hissed.

He did. He dared.

…

“I just don't know, Archie. It hasn't been all that long.”

Her husband sighed as he ran a washcloth over the dish. “Abby, it's been a week and a half. The boy's alternating between going stir-crazy and staring listlessly at the TV. You're going to have to let him leave the house sooner or later. And go back to his own bed. I want to be able to watch the big set in the living room eventually.”

“He was in the hospital for the first week,” Abigail replied pointedly. “Forgive me if I just want to make sure he doesn't have a-a... relapse or something!”

“He's been resting like you asked him to and he's been taking all the pills the doctors said he should,” Archibald shook his head. “You've got to stop worrying so much, woman.”

“I'll stop worrying when I don't have a daughter in another town at a coed college, a son playing one of the most violent high school sports in the world, and another who skipped two grades and is going to school with kids that out-mass him by twice or more,” she replied archly. “I feel like the least I'm allowed to do is worry this much.”

“Then take the boy to the scout meeting yourself. Sit and talk to the rest of the parents while you're less than fifty feet away from him,” Archie sighed. “You know they're a dual-troop. He-ck, you insisted on taking Addie back when she was in scouts.”

“Of course I did! Honestly, immortal pagan princess of the Amazons or not, that woman should have just kept her nose out of how modern Americans did things, ugh!” She nearly spat, throwing the rag in the sink in disgust. “Whoever heard of sending little girls on overnight hikes with boys!”

A less socially-adept man would have pointed out that Adelaide had always gotten along better with the boys in her troop than the girls and that her mother's constant (hovering) presence during scouting events had been what started the rift between them.

Archibald was not nearly so stupid as to open his mouth on that subject (again), though.

Given that he knew the way his wife's mind worked, though, he chose a different subject. “Addie didn't have any incidents and neither did Algernon. You honestly think Arden – of all of our children – is going to be the one caught with his pants down?”

Not that Archie himself had ever actually heard of pants coming off on a scouting trip. He was sure it had happened, and not just with the dual troops – the coed scouting groups, but the worst that had come of their town's troop was a few kids caught making out.

Which was, in his honest opinion, perfectly fine.

Kids were going to be kids and it was better for them to get found out somewhere their friends or the adults were going to stumble onto them before things went too far. Not all of the other parents shared his viewpoint, but enough did that the troop hadn't been divided yet.

The town was small enough that it wasn't really worth having two different troops running around, anyway.

“It's not Arden I'm worried about,” Abigail replied with a shake of her head. “It's all those girls. I know a few of them have their eyes on him. I just don't want Arden to end up pinned down by a mistake he's too young to realize. He's a bright boy, with a bright future.”

Archie could have brought up Jason Thomas at that point, but again, he wasn't a stupid man. His wife's double-standard over the respective sexes was an old saw that wouldn't be resolved while washing the dishes. Regardless, he couldn't help but think that Abigail wouldn't have been too heartbroken if their daughter had ended up 'in the family way' and had to postpone or cancel her college plans.

But, maybe it was for the best that the two of them had broken up, in the end, even if it was sudden.

Jason had ended up going out of state for school, anyway.

And it wasn't as though he doubted she'd be gushing over Addie the day she graduated. His wife would be among the proudest parents at that ceremony, he was sure. There was just the lingering feeling that she'd be a tiny bit happier with a grandchild instead of a diploma, were she forced to choose between the two.

“How about we hold off on that until Arden starts asking girls out, okay?” He asked instead, holding back another sigh. “Once we know he's getting to that point, we can talk to him about it.”

Abigail huffed, but nodded. “Fine, I suppose. I guess I can take him to the scout meeting as well. It has been a long time since I've seen Sharon and Victor.”

Inwardly, Archie relaxed. It would do both his son and his wife some good to get out of the house a little.

“As long as Arden's feeling up to it, of course,” Abigail added.

Archie opened his mouth to reply, then blinked as movement caught his eye in the back window above the kitchen. He grinned, then chuckled. “Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem.”

His wife frowned, leaned over, and groaned. “I told that boy he shouldn't be running around like that.”

“Relax, honey, Lincoln probably just grabbed one of Arden's things. You know how that dog is. And Arden. Honestly, he should just let the pencil go after the dog gets it, but it just has to be that pencil...” Archie grumbled, having lost track of the times that he'd needed to chase down one of their hounds to get a toy, gadget, or writing instrument back from them.

Abby shook her head and turned towards the living room. “Algie! Get up off the couch and help your brother! Lincoln's stolen something of his again!”

“Ah, wha-oh, yeah! I'm on it!” Algie replied, bouncing to his feet without so much as a whine or objection.

Archibald shook his head and sighed in fond exasperation. “Anyway, I've set up the meeting with the Baxters for next week. Wednesday at ten. If you want to be there for that.”

Abby took a deep breath. “I'll come to the station. For Arden. But I don't think I could keep a civil tongue in my mouth around... those people, one of them your old friend or not, honey.”

Archie just nodded. “Regardless of how this turns out, that probably won't be a concern anymore.”

His wife gave him a long look, then nodded once. “Good.”

…

“You sonnuva'bitch!” I growled as I ran, keeping pace with the dog-

-which was actually just as surprising to me as it probably was for him.

That said, it was much less amusing given how his tail was wagging.

“Should have named you-” huff “-Nixon! You're a goddamn crook!”

The dog swerved around the shed and I nearly slipped, barely catching my footing as I made the turn. It was strange, moving this fast and being able to hold my own against Lincoln, asshole that he was. As we came around, I poured on the speed while I could.

“Get back here!” I shouted.

“Don't worry, squirt! I got this!” My brother, the running back, cried as he came rushing past me.

Superhuman regeneration and a general health buff or not, Algie had been training for half a decade to be as fast as he could. Even if I was surprising myself with my own capabilities, I was nowhere near the level of even a high school sports star of a – frankly – minor school.

If I'm serious about this, I need to git gud.

Then my brain caught up to what was happening.

“Algie, I got this!” I cried out, trying desperately to push myself harder.

To no avail.

“Gotcha!” Algie shouted, not listening to me as he ducked into a roll and tackled the dog that weighed at least as much as me. The two went down in a heap of fur and muscle as Lincoln made noises of playful anger and frustration. “C'mon, give it! Giiiii~iiive it!”

“Arooororoooo!” Lincoln howled around the capsule in his mouth, squirming in my brother's grasp.

I grimaced as the two played tug-of-war with the literal superpower in the plastic ball.

“Annnn~nnnd... Got it, hah!” Algie shouted, giving one last yank to pull it from Lincoln's teeth.

For a brief instant, I felt hope that this mess could be salvaged.

Then the telltale crack of plastic sounded in Algie's hand, my older brother blinking as he looked closer at his prize-

-before it shattered into motes of light.

I sighed and facepalmed as Algernon staggered, blinking rapidly in a confused stupor.

“The hell was that?” He asked, looking around. “Whoa, what the...”

Walking over, I grabbed the small piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground and gave it a once-over. Narrowing my gaze, I felt a little jealousy rise up. Algie had gotten a good one, too. Not that Addie's wasn't, but it hadn't been what I was looking for.

I sighed and extended the note to my brother, who took it dumbly.

“I guess... we need to talk about some stuff, Algie,” I sighed.

192.Adept Stealth (3.6 Rarity, 0.36% odds)

-Rare Skill-

You are skilled in the way of stealth, you know how to move silently, how to sneak up on people, how to check for traps, you can blend into your surroundings and sneak up on people who know you are coming. You would make Solid Snake proud.

…

“...and that's about the size of it,” I explained, shrugging.

Algernon stared at me, Adelaide sitting off to the side on a rock wearing a shit-eating grin that she was trying (badly) to hide. “So... when I grabbed that thing out of Lincoln's mouth yesterday... I got a fucking superpower?”

I winced slightly. You knew shit was getting real when Algie started cussing.

My eyes roamed the clearing we'd settled in, the mostly-intact childhood fort still standing against the treeline. It'd been an easier sell that I thought it would be to get Mom to give me some time off bed rest. Still, with both Algie and Addie accompanying me on a 'sibling bonding hike,' we'd gotten permission to make the thirty-minute trek into the woods where my older siblings had once constructed a 'secret' fort.

It wasn't anything to write home about, just some cast-off lumber and pallet wood that they'd gotten virtually for free and built a little hide out that also served as a makeshift deer stand.

“Well, Addie got an actual power,” I explained, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. “You just got a skill.”

Algie massaged his face in disbelief. “And it just jammed being able to sneak around like some kind of assassin in my head?!”

I winced again, and Algie took a visible breath. “I mean, I just showed you the one I got for mechanics, didn't I? Same thing, basically. The one for art, too.”

“Stop freaking out, Algernon,” Addie ordered with a frown. “It's not like Arden meant for you to get it. He tried to stop you, didn't he? But you wanted to play the hero.”

Now my brother looked away, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair with a grimace. “Mom told me too, you know how she gets. Besides, he was supposed to be resting, anyway.”

“It was partly my fault,” I sighed, my head drooping. “With everything that's happened, I forgot that Lincoln can be a total Nixon about anything you're holding.”

My siblings both blinked at the statement, then simultaneously snorted, grinning widely.

Then Algie's expression sobered. “So, uh... any reason why we're not telling Mom and Dad? Feels like the kind of thing we should?”

Addie, tellingly, had refrained from commenting on the lack of certain details when I'd explained what was going on to our brother. Specifically, the interdimensional imp thing. Which would make most true believers suspect that there was soul-taking afoot.

I frowned and hummed. “I just... don't know how to, I guess? My plan was basically to wait until something happened and I couldn't hide it anymore, then explain once I'm forced to?”

Now my sister decided to speak up, a deadpan expression and narrow gaze on her face. “That's a terrible plan, Ardie.”

I pointed at Algernon. “It worked fine with him.”

Addie opened her mouth, stopped, then closed it.

“I feel like just because something works once, you shouldn't try to do it again,” Algie stated slowly.

I frowned at him. “That's literally how all of science works.”

Now it was Algie's turn to gape at me for a few moments while Addie replied. “You can't science people, dork.”

“Watch me,” I replied smugly.

“Ugh, you're an insufferable little shit sometimes, fucking genius,” Addie sighed, rubbing at her face. “So, you going to use that gold ticket you got?”

I wilted slightly, pulling out the shiny golden paper from my pocket and staring at it.

[Gold Ticket – Losing a Chaos Gacha Capsule To Someone Else]

I didn't like being reminded of this one.

Because the rarity really put things into perspective.

Gold tickets involved death or permanent damage to one or a small group of people.

In hindsight, that was easy enough to understand. The gacha was powerful. Even a silver ticket, nominally the second-lowest, could generate something potent and deadly. Hell, that had actually happened this time. Algernon had been given access to top-tier human-level stealth. Short of advanced technology or Bat-tier abilities to erase your own presence, Algernon could probably compete with the best of the best. Up to and including special operations personnel given the mention of Solid Snake in the summary.

If someone who I didn't trust implicitly had gotten that skill...

I didn't like to think about the outcome of that possibility.

Lesson Learned.

Treat the capsules with care and be responsible with them.

For maybe the first time since I'd gotten this power, I wasn't actually looking forward to tearing this ticket or what it would give me. I'd received this reward for doing something stupid. Something that was almost as bad as being actively evil with it.

I swallowed, another dimension of my potential coming to light.

I'd gotten a gold-tier ticket for accidentally losing a gacha capsule.

What would I get for willingly giving one away to someone? Someone random, not someone like Addie that I knew and trusted. Or someone that I knew had bad tendencies that could be exacerbated by powers. Involuntarily, I remembered the organization Cauldron and its various schemes to control the world by handing out powers to various factions and individuals.

My stomach dropped a bit as I realized that could be me.

I could do that.

If I wanted to.

I didn't, but the idea... I could create my own nemeses to fight against, to in turn gain more power. I could advance through the suffering of others. I'd likely get tickets for theft and murder just as easily as I would for saving lives.

“Are you going to tear it, or what?” Addie asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I blinked, shaking my head. “Just... had an intrusive thought, sorry.”

“What was it?” Algie asked, looking curious. “Worrying about what you'd get?”

I shook my head again. “No, just... I could probably get more tickets if I gave out powers to random people, since I got a ticket for giving you one by accident and Addie one on purpose. In fact, I could probably get tickets for doing some pretty lousy stuff to people, like stealing from them or whatever.”

The 'or whatever' was deliberately casual on my part, almost too much so.

Killing someone would probably be worth a gold ticket, at least once or twice. I probably wouldn't get much repeat value out of relatively 'simple' tasks like that. With pyromancy, at least, it would be as simple as point and click, so I imagine that only the first murder I committed with my powers would get me a reward.

But platinum-level achievements?

I could kill a dozen people pretty easily, which was about the threshold for that, I think. There were no precise numbers, but the sheet I'd gotten with the first orb Mixxy had given me specified a 'mass casualty event. Either stopping or – presumably – starting one.

And the scale only went up from there.

“...you're not gonna' do that, though, right?” Algie asked, cautiously.

I snorted, then shook my head, feeling the tension let out between us. “No. I... think I want to be a hero? Like Superman.”

Even after resolving to that idea internally, saying it out loud made my cheeks heat up. It sounded... so childish.

“I thought you liked Batman more,” Algie asked, his lips twitching.

“I do, but someone took the super-stealth, so I guess I'm going loud and proud,” I replied dryly.

“Okay, being the adult here, for a moment,” Addie raised her hand, stopping both of us, then looking at me directly. “You're not going to like, run off and go punching bad guys in alleyways, are you? Cause, I'd have to tell Mom and Dad if you are.”

I rolled my eyes. “No way. The only time I'd do something like that is if it was happening right in front of me, but I'm not planning on any hero stuff for... at least a year, maybe more? I need to build up muscle, do training, get skills that I don't have. That sort of thing.”

Addie sighed, relaxing, as Algie just nodded thoughtfully.

Then he stopped and went ramrod straight. “Wait! If you healed that Jamie kid, then you can heal-”

An instant too late, he caught himself and slapped a hand over his mouth as his eyes guiltily turned to Adelaide.

My mouth dropped open in shock.

He knew?!

“You knew?!” Addie asked, her eyes going wide.

“Ah... oops?” Algie asked, giving an awkward show of teeth that was half-grimace and half-smile, his face contorting between the two as it tried to find an expression that would bail him out. “I, um... oops?”

Addie groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Does Mom know? Or Dad?”

“Ah... no? I don't think so, at least?” Algie asked, still intensely awkward. “I mean, I never talked with them about it or anything, so they could, I guess?”

Addie snorted and shook her head, her elbows resting on her knees as she held herself up by them. “Ugh, unlikely. Jesus, Algie... how the fuck did you find out?!”

“Ah, well... after your breakup with Jason, you were in your room crying for a week, so I thought he'd like... hurt you,” Algie paused, finding a tree in the distance particularly interesting. “Or something. So, um... I kind of beat the shit out of him until he told me what happened.”

Addie stared at our brother in mild disbelief. “Jason is three years older than you and had at least fifty pounds on you.”

“Not much of it was muscle, though,” Algie shrugged.

I snapped my fingers. “Right... this was when you came home with that black eye a few years ago, wasn't it? You said you'd gotten into it with someone who said some shit about the Broncos. I only remember because it was after Addie's breakup.”

“He still had half a fucking foot on you, Algernon,” Addie hissed in disbelief.

Algie shrugged and, although he refused to make eye contact, he also refused to show any remorse. “He made my big sister cry. So what?”

“So what?” Addie echoed, still in shock. “You... you... complete asshole, brave, sweet sibling whom it turns out I can trust a lot more than I thought I could... goddammit.”

Algie colored slightly. “Ahh... Sis, it's okay, I know it was supposed to be this big secret and everything, so I never said anything. Especially with Mom, but... uh, could you watch the swearing? Just a little?”

Adelaide stared at him for a long moment, then started laughing helplessly, almost manically. “You-I... hah! I-I have a-an abortion and you get irritated – hehe! At me for swearing!”

Algernon looked, if anything, more uncomfortable. “I, um... look, it's not my business. I don't think it's right or anything, Sis, but... it's your place to decide what to do with your body.”

My own viewpoint on the subject was… well, I supported Addie’s decision. She was a child who’d made a stupid decision to have sex with someone who turned out to be a jerk and there had been an accident. Jason had been the one to find and arrange for a visit to a less-than-stellar clinic where Addie had the operation, which went fine.

Initially.

It was the post-op infection, likely from improperly cleaned tools or something, that caused problems. I wasn’t privy to the exact discussion she and Mom had after the subsequent visit to the gynecologist, but the odds of her having children were… not good, after that. It had caused some tension and likely resulted in Addie moving out for college instead of attending the community one in Shiloh across the river for her undergraduate, at least.

Personally, I blamed Jason, first and foremost for (likely) pressuring my sister into sex. Then I blamed the fact that she’d had to hide getting the operation from our parents, which had led to the complications. And after that, I blamed the church for putting so much value on a woman’s reproductive capabilities in the first place.

I might go to mass, but I didn’t exactly agree with everything I heard there.

That was doubly-true given my insider knowledge of the system.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, especially with that douche Thomas.” Algernon’s face screwed up in a rare fit of anger. “He was a complete jacka-er hole, blaming you for the condom breaking, and saying the whole thing should be your responsibility. Chicken-crap, too. I told him he should apologize to you and he never showed up at the house, even!”

My eyes widened and I almost choked on my own spit, coughing to clear it from my airway.

“Ardie...” My sister was staring at me, her eyes narrow and her humor forgotten. “What did you do?”

“Nothing?” I asked, taking my turn in the lineup to study the very interesting foliage around us.

What rustic architecture!

“Arden.” Adelaide ordered. “Fess up or I'll tell Mom you fainted on the walk back and we had to carry you home.”

I hissed and flinched as if struck. “Bitch! Low blow!”

Adelaide was unmoved, and Algernon was curious – and slightly disapproving of my language.

“Okay, so Jason might have showed up a couple of days after Algie got into that fight,” I confessed. “Mom and Dad were out for groceries and Algie was running practice with the team, even if he wasn't on it yet, like he used to do. Remember?”

My older brother colored slightly in the face. He'd gone through a pretty strong wannabe phase before he made the team, trying to bulk up and flexing in front of the mirror to try and increase visible muscle definition.

“I remember, yeah,” Addie nodded.

“He wanted to talk to you, but you were still locked in your room.” I paused, thinking about how to spin what had happened next as my face heated up again. “You remember that super-creepy Children of the Corn act I used to do for Halloween?”

Her face blanked to surprise, her lips twitching as Algie's face showed nothing except malicious delight.

“You didn't.” She stated blankly and, at my continued refusal to meet her eyes, she sighed and drooped. “You did. You totally did.”

“Bet he didn't even know the Fundamentally Funny Words to get you laughing,” Algie grinned, and I twitched. “That always broke you out of it.”

“Please don't,” I nearly begged, trying to brace myself.

Proving that Lincoln had come by his puckishness honestly, Algie grinned and replied with deep gravitas a single word. “Djibouti.”

I grimaced. “Algie... please.”

“Okay, stop,” Addie held up her hands, then looked at me. “Was that all you did?”

Back to the trees! “Uh... I might have had a fascinating discussion on the properties of nitrogen fertilizers and their... explosive capabilities?”

Algie snorted and Addie facepalmed again.

While she was distracted groaning in exasperated amusement, my brother and I bumped fists with a nod.

“Okay, know what?” Addie suddenly asked, sitting back up and looking at both of us innocently sitting there and not having congratulated each other just a second earlier. “You're both my adorable little brothers and I love you. Now please rip that ticket and change the subject so I can ignore the impulse to hug you.”

Algie and I snorted, but I shrugged and held up the ticket again, tearing it in two.

Once again, neither of them gave any indication that they could hear the great gacha machine in the sky working.

A capsule in my hand, I debated warning them to get ready for anything, but decided we'd had enough drama already.

I blinked as a small blue and gold ring fell into my palm.

“A ring?” Algie asked, surprised. “What's it do?”

I held up the small paper blurb and read it aloud. “Bellowing Dragoncrest Ring. It's a rare item. Hmm... A special ring granted to only the most accomplished sorcerers at the Vinheim Dragon School. The ring is engraved with an everlasting dragon and boost the strength of magic cast by its wearer.”

359. Bellowing Dragoncrest Ring (3.6 Rarity, 0.44% odds)

-Rare Item-

Dark Souls - A special ring granted to only the most accomplished sorcerers at the Vinheim Dragon School. The ring is engraved with an everlasting dragon and boosts the strength of magic cast by its wearer.

“Magic isn't-” Adelaide began, then snapped her mouth shut.

I raised an eyebrow at her. She narrowed hers at me.

“Can you... do magic?” Algernon asked awkwardly, visibly uncomfortable.

“Nope!” I replied, popping the 'P' as I put it on and watched the metal resize to fit my finger before I focused on my inner fire and manifested a flame. “Looks like a meta-human trait like pyromancy doesn't count, either. It doesn't feel more powerful or easier to summon flames. Well, at least it has a cool carving of a dragon on it. Neat.”

I could be upset, but I was choosing the high road.

I'd played a stupid game with my dog and gotten a stupid prize that I couldn't effectively use.

Oh, I was sure that one day the ring would be an enormous boon, but much like Non-Binding Clause, I had zero use for it right now. Before I could ruminate further on my mixed luck, Algie spoke up.

“I was expecting something... I don't know... more impressive?” He asked, slightly disappointed.

I blinked, then perked up and smirked.

“Well, I guess we could go down to the river and I could show off my pyromancy, or...” I stood and clasped my hands together. They weren't really a 'cursed technique' in the here and now, and I didn't have cursed energy to summon them with, but any self-respecting anime fan knew that when you blasted a kamehameha, you did the pose.

So when you summoned a shikigami, you made the hand sign.

“Divine Dogs!” I shouted out, and felt my shadow bubble behind me as it split and two large canines emerged from their depths.

“Whoa!” Algie cried, standing up and beginning to approach as Addie stared wide-eyed. “You can get dogs? That's so cool!”

The only correct response.

I grinned, reaching out and giving rubs and scratches to the white and black dogs. “They're special dogs. Creatures called shikigami, kind of like a wizard's pet familiar. They can hide in my shadow when they're not out and about. They don't need food or water, but still like treats, and they're skilled trackers.”

“Okay, that's... actually really cool, squirt,” Addie nodded begrudgingly, stepping up to pet the puppers cautiously, then more firmly as they failed to snap or bite at her.

“What are their names?” Algie asked, petting the white one until his eyes rolled up and he showed his belly for more attention. “Just like normal dogs...”

I frowned, hesitating. “I hadn't... hmm, how about-”

Pointing at the black dog, I announced, “Yin,” and he perked up.

“Yang,” I stated, switching to the white one, now on the ground, who merely huffed in acknowledgment.

“Yin and Yang, real original, genius,” Addie said, grinning a bit sardonically.

“Basic isn't bad,” I shrugged, reaching down to give the dogs some of my own attention.

All in all, it was a good day.

~~~

So, I'm still working on the chapter of Where Your God Is. I will definitely have it out this month. Committing to that.

It's just been long enough that I need to reread some chapters, give my notes a thorough skim, and retread some research to get an idea of how to write the next scene.

Anyway! To tide you over, here's another chapter of Butler Boy.

I'll be working on more Mind Games over the weekend.

Hope everyone's had a good week so far, TGIF.

Thank you again for your patience and support.

Butler Boy - Chapter 5 (Revision)

Unscheduled Update:

Okay, so a lot of people criticized Arden's actions towards the end of Chapter 5 as uncharacteristically/unnecessarily stupid/silly/problematic.

Let this be a testament that I can, in fact, take the hint when people raise valid critiques.

So I've revised the end of the last chapter and wanted everyone to know and/or have access to the new 'end,' so it wasn't a surprise.

*Also, while I'm here, a quick note. There are a few franchises that the Chaos Gacha uses that I just don't know well enough to use stuff from. When they're relatively simple items that just boost speed/strength/endurance, that's one thing. But specific sentient familiars that have unique personalities can cause problems when writing them.

In that event, I'll use my best judgement to substitute something that I do know that feels equitable OR just grant a reroll and take the new result.

This is just a convention to allow me to more easily write material that I actually know instead of needing to do excessive amounts of research into fandoms that I'm unfamiliar with.

Thanks for your attention!

Story below, changes are relatively minor and only affect the last few paragraphs, but I've included more to allow people to get back into the swing of the story. Also, the gdoc is already updated if you'd rather read it here.

~~~

Contrary to the ticket, she stared at the capsule like it was a snake about to bite her, which... yeah, there were probably snakes you could get as familiars. I mean, if you could pull the Divine Dogs from JJK, you could pull a pet snake.

“Alright, I guess... here goes nothing,” Addie muttered, taking the capsule from me and working her painted nails into the latches carefully before- “Holy shit!”

My eyebrows rose as the plastic hemispheres dissipated into motes of stardust, leaving Addie wide-eyed holding a small slip of paper. “Huh, what's it say?”

She blinked, looking down at the small print... “Uhh... let's see... 313.Paper Trail. A rarity of one-point-eight with... point-four eight percent chance odds. It's a 'common trait,' that... huh. For some reason you are always carrying the relevant paper or information with you. And so do your familiars apparently. Just reach into your pocket and you can find whatever legal identification you need.”

We stared in silence at the slip for a few moments after Addie finished reading it off.

“I... guess I should be grateful that I didn't get something weirder,” Adelaide stated quietly, her tone a little disappointed as she frowned at the result.

“Well, you'll never get another parking fine ever again,” I shrugged.

Addie blinked, sitting up straight. “Oh my god... I can park wherever I want to. I never have to worry about getting a new hunting license! Wait, wait, let me see...”

She closed her eyes, concentrating, and focused before reaching into her pocket and-

“That shouldn't have fit in there,” my sister noted as she pulled out the wad of papers, looking through them. “Holy fuck... this is a concealed carry for my gun. I always thought about getting one, but I just kept the damn thing in my car for emergencies instead. Never mind, this is awesome! I'm never going to have to wait in line at the DMV ever again!”

I snorted as Adelaide cackled, glad she'd gotten something she liked. “Just... uh, watch out, okay? Like, you could probably pull out an FBI badge or something if you wanted to, but even if it makes you officially an FBI agent, it's probably not going to alter memories or anything and you won't have the training. So don't do anything stupid with it, okay?”

“Right, right...” Adelaide nodded slowly, coming down from her high as she looked down at the paper. “All I'll have is a piece of paper or a badge or something... still fucking awesome.”

“Glad you liked it, now...” I blinked, looking down at my hands.

I still had two silver tickets.

I cocked my head and looked at them closer. One of them was the ticket I'd gotten for healing Addie. I'd burned the one that I got for telling her about the gacha and given her the reward. The other...

“Figuring out how to share the gacha,” I muttered, frowning at it.

Right... most people wouldn't even try, probably. I guess that's an achievement. Even if I trust Addie, she could have gotten something that would put me in danger. If I'd trust the wrong person...

That also meant if I didn't immediately use the tickets, I needed to store them as tickets, rather than capsules. If I tore a bunch of tickets, stored the plastic balls in a safe, and got robbed...

Yeah, not good.

“Well, let's see what you get, right?” Addie asked, nodding at the tickets.

I sighed, the last thing I needed was an enabler. “If I get something that doesn't fit in the house, you're explaining it to Mom. Probably pull a fucking tank...”

Deciding to get it over with, I ripped one. Instantly a plastic capsule appeared in my hand. Popping one open, I immediately felt knowledge begin to flow through my mind to the point that I hardly needed to read the paper to know what I’d gotten. Shaking my head and feeling like it was a bit more full than it had been before, I handed the paper to Addie.

79. Adept Mechanics (3.2 Rarity, 0.63% odds)

-Rare Skill-

You are as skilled as a veteran engineer, if given the tools you can repair almost any mundane machine and you could even design a car from scratch and build it yourself. In addition, you tinker and design faster than you should be able to without sacrificing quality.

“Whoa... that's nice. That's... you just got like, all of Algernon and Dad's skills fixing cars and then some, didn't you?” Addie asked, reading it to herself.

“Yeah, and I feel like someone just crammed it into my head sideways,” I muttered.

Seriously, learning how to sex good and draw hadn't been this bad. I guess heavy sciences have a lot more to them, don't they?

“You okay, bro?” Adelaide asked, leaning over to check me out visually.

“Yeah, just... can I get some advil or something?” I asked, a bit plaintively. “This reminds me of when I pulled the art skill, just worse.”

Because we aren't talking about the other skill I'd pulled.

“Yeah, sure, lemme just... shit, that's mom driving up, isn't it?” She asked, shaking her head and moving to grab a bottle of pills. “Just wait there, okay? I'll get it.”

I looked down at the remaining ticket in my hand, then shook my head and reached over to stuff it into my school bag underneath my homework before tucking away the Adept Mechanics paper I'd gotten.

I'd tear that one when Mom wasn't literally walking in the door.

Mind Games - Chapter 34

I took another moment to make sure my cell was in incognito mode.

I stared at it, my fingers refusing to move.

There were better ways, I knew. Simpler, easier tactics to take at this point. But none that would ensure compliance from the hero I needed. Regrettably, Aizawa had refused Endeavor's invitation to put his agency through a remedial CQC course. If I'd had that time, I might have been able to work out a cleaner and more elegant solution to my problem. Instead, I was left with this.

This, being a phone call I needed to make.

I sighed and tapped the icon to engage the call, clearing my throat as I did so.

“Hello? You've reached the Principle of UA, Nezu! Interestingly enough, I can't seem to trace your call, so I've decided to answer it!”

“Oui!” I stated, my voice coming out in a different octave and with a terrible french accent to it. “I am – how do you say? Monsieur Permanent Marker.”

“Oh? From your intonations and pitch, I take it that you are attempting to inspire fear or intimidate me?” There was a sipping sound on the other side of the line. “If that's correct, I'm terribly sorry to say I've never heard of you.”

“That is... quite all right,” I replied graciously, hitting somewhere between Danjiro and Aoyama. “The Permanent Marker has not come for the raton laveur – the raccoon – today. Today, I come for my arch nemesis. The one you call... Eraserhead.”

There was another sip and a thoughtful hum as tiny furry digits hit keys on a keyboard. “I see. Am I to take it you wish to issue some sort of villainous declaration against my employee?”

“Oui,” I affirmed. “I do hope this is not a bad time...”

“Well, if the threat is sufficiently dire, I can assure you that Eraserhead will be in attendance,” Nezu replied formally. “I can take over his class for the day, even! What fun! But in the future, I will need to ask that you schedule these sorts of affairs in advance so that we have time to find a suitable substitute.”

Man, I feel bad for inflicting Nezu on those students, but... needs must when the devil drives.

“Ah, of course. I will ensure Eraserhead and I exchange contact information, should we need to schedule another ultimate showdown!” My grandiose assurances seemed to put the principal at ease.

“UA thanks the Permanent Marker for his consideration,” Nezu replied. “Now, for today's threat?”

“Ah, oui-oui!” I cleared my throat dramatically. “I have placed explosives underneath a cat cafe in Chofu to which I will momentarily provide the exact coordinates. It is my desire to entrap Eraserhead within the confines for the day, lest I detonate the bombs and cause quite the... cat-tastrophe! Hoh-ho!”

There was silence for a moment. “I see... well, that is certainly severe enough to warrant Eraserhead's attendance. May I ask what the conditions are under which you will allow the people within to go free?”

“I will arrive to have a pleasant verbal spar with Eraserhead, after which we will retire to a nearby deserted lot to do battle. Once that is concluded, I will either hand over the detonator as befits a defeated enemy or, gracious in my victory, allow the cat cafe to stand as a monument to my fallen nemesis,” I chortled loudly.

There seemed to be significantly less tension in the reply this time. “Thank you, Monsieur Permanent Marker. It's reassuring to see that you've planned to only sacrifice civilian life should your demands not be met. In that case, I think we can work with you. Hmm... when should Eraserhead expect you at the cafe?”

I inhaled and cleared my throat, pressuring myself to sound intensely awkward. “Ah... regrettably there has been something of a scheduling conflict. My internet services are malfunctioning and the repairman has given me a significant window of time in which I must attend my home. Perhaps I could call and alert you when he has finished his business and I am on my way?”

“If this is too much, perhaps we could reschedule?” Nezu asked leadingly.

“Noh! The Permanent Marker is very busy next week! It must be today!” I refused staunchly. “Eraserhead is free to make use of the cafe's services while he waits! He may put it on my tab, even!”

“Hmm... very well, but do know that all of the faculty under my employ are top notch heroes. I'll forgive this oversight this time, but in the future do be more careful with your calendar,” Nezu warned.

“You are too kind,” I breathed out a sigh of relief, not entirely faked, and detailed the exact location where I'd set the explosives.

Which, of course, didn't actually exist.

Hanging up, I sighed and looked skyward to the Apartment's ceiling and momentarily reassessed my entire life.

“What the fuck am I even doing?” I asked blankly.

Then the moment of self-reflection passed and I got up to move.

I shifted to my female – vigilante – form and switched into Perspicacious Mauve Avenger's outfit. At some point, I'd have to get an actual costume/uniform-esque thing for this ID, but I'd never been too enthused with the idea of an elaborate mass of clothing. My Bootstrap stuff was basically just Eraserhead 2.0, even, because his shit boiled down to a once-piece jumpsuit that could be pre-loaded with all his gear and that weird combat-scarf capture weapon he wielded. The only thing the man actually needed to put on or take off was a pair of shoes.

I'd bet that he slept in the thing, but I didn't need to because I knew he did.

What I would put money on, though, would be his response if asked about it.

“It's only logical.”

Rolling my eyes at the mocking lilt of my voice, I passed through the door to the Apartment, something which I'd positioned with the help of Himiko to drop me off roughly a block away from my target.

The building was one of the old-school constructions that dotted Tokyo's landscape. Not legitimately old like some of the shrines or the Old Capital, but built in the same style of traditional construction that had been in practice in Japan for centuries. I hadn't looked into every detail of it, but one of the Shie Hassaikai's previous heads had commissioned it after the initial burst of destruction caused by the onset of the Dark Age, after the emergence of quirks.

Land was cheap.

The yakuza had prospered.

It was an age of violence, after all.

But that violence had been as much a crime by the yakuza as it had been against them.

As much as many in the criminal community 'blamed' heroes for the downfall of the traditional crime syndicates, that wasn't precisely true. Rather, it had been the emergence of organized quirk-empowered gangs – the first 'villains' – that had spelled their doom. Yakuza were organized hierarchies, organizations, that relied on complex financial markets, law, and social order in order to create the very people who would feel disenfranchised enough to join them.

If society took a major hit, criminals had enough room to climb the ladders and become legitimate.

The death of the yakuza wasn't a result of increased pressure by law enforcement.

The yakuza had become law enforcement.

Empowered by a failing government in desperate need of military force, they'd been armed and used against quirk rights advocacy groups to put down 'riots.' In quelling the chaos in the streets, the government had allowed them to rebrand, slowly being subsumed by the structure of the police and military as they now faced a common enemy in the destabilizing force of those who could breathe fire or stomp earthquakes into existence.

In the modern era, the violence of those times was swept under the rug to focus on the narrative that the yakuza of the time were collective security groups formed around neighborhoods and communities. They even called them 'Ninkyo Dantai,' or 'Chivalrous Organizations.' The fact that such a term had always been the preferred title of the yakuza themselves went unremarked upon.

Most societies were good at overlooking the worst parts of their history.

The less said of the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in the United States, the better.

It had been more than a century since all this, though, and that legacy was diluted to the point of irrelevance at this stage. The Boryokudan – 'Violence Groups' – that had resisted being turned into law enforcement had been out-competed by villains working in smaller, more flexible cells... which, now that I thought about it, was probably an effort by All for One to consolidate underworld power by eliminating the old yakuza-style fiefdoms, in retrospect. I didn't need to fall into the trap of blaming the old bastard for everything wrong with the world, but that was at least a plausible hypothesis I'd need to investigate.

Regardless of all that, though, the building before me was a classic Japanese construction of wood and rice paper nestled amid the towering concrete, steel, and glass that surrounded it.

I released a sigh and extended the very periphery of my power.

It was a lesser aura than my memories told me I would have once my growth was complete, but that would be decades, possibly centuries, from now.