hey guys, the system is going to be best of 3d100 with + from bonuses or with - from malluses.

For now our hero, Eric Miller, hasn't gained his super powers. As we go the focus will be split between his ordinary life and his life as a costumed adventurer.

Hope you guys enjoy it!

>>4527900
>stay home and study

>>4527924
locking it in

I shot a message back.

Me - Sorry man I got school work.

A ping back.

Kemal - All good homie.

And bent my neck over the books.

"The Secret Six were a ring of wealthy abolitionists based out of the industrial north," I muttered, and cupped a yawn in the palm of my hand. I read through to the start of John Brown's raid on Harpers Ferry. You'd think with all the gun fights and murder going on it would be a more exciting read, but the text book sucked out all the flavor. Names, dates, locations, names dates, locations. "And in June of 1958 John Brown...."

When the knock came on the door it was a relief. I shut the book and swung out from my desk. The knock came again. Dad was in no state to get it.

When I went out he was slumped over the bottle of Jack, drool running down his chin, knocked out where I'd found him.

I opened the door.

"Mrs Valdez, hi," I said. Mrs Valdez lived on the ground floor, right underneath us. Wispy dark hairs covered her top lip and she carried a foil wrapped platter.

"Eric, hello, is your father home?" she asked, trying to peer in. She was short and fat, and had probably always been short and fat.

"Is everything ok Mrs Valdez?" I asked.

"Oh, everything is fine. I made too many fajitas and thought you might like some. Or, have you eaten?" she asked almost bashful. My guts answered with a loud gurgle. "Please, a boy your age needs all the fuel he can get."

She pushed the fajitas into my hands.

"I really can't..." I started, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Please, we're neighbors, we look out for each other," she said, "And after all, right now you could use..." she fell into an awkward silence, but brightened, "Well! Enjoy, and if you ever need anything please don't hesitate to knock on my door."

She bobbed her head before leaving. Closing the door I peeled back some of the foil, stomach crying at the sight and smell of Mrs Valdez's fajitas. Chicken with jalapenos, salsa and guacomole. I set it on the table in our kitchenette, and wolfed one down.

It was hot, in both ways. The spicy prickle ran over my tongue almost making me gag. I chomped down, chicken squishing between my teeth. It was just what I needed, washing out my brain fatigue.

I sat alone under the fluorescent light, the fridge humming, Dad starting to snore.

It didn't look like Dad would be getting up.

> leave him where he was
> help him to bed

>>4527947
> help him to bed
QM pls have meaningful choices early on.
Also its standard to give 1-2 hours per post not 10mins.

>>4527947
>help him to bed

>>4527947
>>help him to bed

locked in and writing

I couldn't leave him like that.

Getting Dad off the couch was easier said then done. He was taller than me, and heavier too, drunk as he was he didn't have the faculties to co-operate, but at least he didn't put up a fight.

First I moved the bottle of Jack, setting it on the coffee table next to the half-eaten pack of Cheetos. Then I took him by the arm, and pulled him half onto my shoulder.

"Find your feet old man," I said as he snorted in my ear, "Bed time."

I shuffled him along, it wasn't easy. Dad had worked in labor jobs all his life, worked with his muscle. His skin had a red tan, and a face starting to turn leathery. The drinking wasn't helping. He had a voice could cut through a dockyard.

But now he was mild as a new born doe and just as clumsy, snorting half-awake in my arms, tripping up in our awkward embrace.

I kicked open his bedroom door, stumbled over an empty bottle, and dropped him on the dirty covers. He hit with a thud.

"Hell if I'm doing more than that," I said, bent over for breath.

Dad's room stank worse than mine, the sour smell turning into a bad taste at the back of my mouth. I wondered how much of it was him.

A picture on his bedside mantle caught my eye. It was him and Mom, back when they were young. It stopped me for a second. It was easy to forget he hadn't always been a drunk. He'd once been strong, with a working man's dignity, looking like a Bruce Springsteen song. And Mom, young and smiling, bushy brown hair swept back...

I didn't hang around. Dad's snores followed me out.

I down another fajita before getting back to work, muddling my way through a math problem. It was getting late. My eyes were getting heavy, yawns growing bigger and bigger.

Then I heard a scream.

It came from outside, a woman, followed by a harsh man's voice. My skin prickled over and my belly went cold. She screamed again and I heard something break.

I was at the windowsill without thinking. The mangy old cat sprang away when the window screeched open. My heart was in my ears as I stepped out into the harsh chill night,out onto the rusty grate.

"No, por favor, no!"

Mrs Valdez.

Someone big was grabbing at her, pulling at her. Something bright shone in his hand. A knife, a gun? I couldn't tell. I couldn't see. It was dark.

"Hey!" I barked, my voice breaking, not thinking as I leaned over the rail of the fire escape, "Hey, le...leave her alone!"

He stopped to look, and I saw the whites in his eyes. They were flushed pink, his olive skin covered in sweat despite the cold night. He was on something, off his head.

My legs locked and my heart stopped beating.

"Mother fucker!" the knife in his hand pointed at me. Mrs Valdez's sobs choked out. "I cut your fucking face off maricon. Fuck you with a knife, eh, fucking white boy."

Fuck. Terror-sweat broke out down my back as I clenched the rail. I'd never known fear like that. Jesus Christ. I was breathing hard but I couldn't feel myself breathing. I couldn't feel anything but a numb terror freezing me in place.

He twisted Mrs Valdez's arm, and her sob turned into a painful whisper.

>go, now, she needs help!
>God, I can't, I can't

>>4528070
>>go, now, she needs help

>>4528070
>go, now, she needs help!

>>4528070
>>go, now, she needs help

Before I know it I'm over the rail. I'm in mid-air, the cold air rushing around me. I'm in-flight, wind whistling around me. But it only lasts for a second. I hit the cement and the pain that shoots up my shins is enough to trip me. I stumble forward, panting. Stupid. I'm stupid. My legs throb.

The knife glints under the street light. The man snarls. Mrs Valdez whimpers. She looks at me and all I see is glassy eyed terror.

Dad upstairs sleeping. Me running. Breath pumping out of me. Not thinking but a hundred little things all at once.

Nobody ever called me tall. Nobody ever called me strong or tough. Nobody ever called me brave.

But I'm running. I grab something from off the ground, a bottle in a brown paper bag.

As I'm running I keep thinking, 'if anyone's watching, please for the love of God do something.' But no one comes. Its just me, closing in, closer, close until I can smell him, the gutter stink of him strong with alcohol, sweat, piss, and I don't even know what else.

Close til I see the filth on his teeth.

"Fucking psycho," he said. I don't know if he meant him or me.

His knife flashes in front of my face. I swing the bottle.

> roll 3d100 dc 75

Rolled 15, 37, 26 = 78 (3d100)

>>4528133
You mean 3 rollers of 1d100 or everyone rolls 3d100?
If you meant the first than just take the first of the three rolls qm.

>>4528152
I meant the first, 3 rolls of 1d100.

So we'll call that result a 15 and wait on 2 more

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>4528133

>>4528170
oof, this is not going Eric's way so far

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>4528133
Here goes, anyone remember Capes of Rain City? Shit was kino for all of three threads

I felt something cold slice my cheek.

*thock*

The bottle hit his chin.

He stumbled back, tripped, fell hard on his ass in a pile of trash. I slapped my palm against my cheek, fingers sticky and wet. I slapped my hand back down.

Mrs Valdez cringed between us, hands half-raised. crying. I brought bloody fingers off my cheek, hand trembling. All of me was trembling, the bottle shaking in my grip. I swallowed a hard lump. The latino man tried to get up but his legs weren't under him, his knife lost in the garbage.

Knocked down he wasn't so big. Scrawny even, with a ratty black beard that gave him a rodent look.

I swung the bottle in his direction.

"Get out of here, get the fuck out of here," my voice was brittle, cracking with puberty, but whatever fight he'd had I'd knocked out of his head. He scurried out of the trash, head low, sprinting up the alley with his hands shoved in his pockets.

I heaved, shaking hard. Then puked up Mrs Valdez's fajitas in a hot gurgle. Jesus, I couldn't stop shaking.

"Eric are you all right?" she asked, trying to get a look at me. She was having trouble lifting her right arm, wincing when she did. My cheek was starting to throb, my legs were hot from jumping a full floor down to the hard ground. Somehow I nodded.

"I'm fine," I said.

"He cut you," she said.

"Not bad, just a nick."

"Let me see, I'll stitch it up," she said. She had me sit on the sidewalk, using a street light to get a better look, thumb wiping away the blood. I got a close up look of her dark whiskers, and the dentures behind her lips. "Yes, not much of a cut, I don't think it needs stitches," she said, "Maybe it will leave a little scar." She held up her thumb and finger to show a tiny little gap.

"Is everything ok out there?" someone called from the building across from ours, "Should I call the cops?"

"No police, no police!" Mrs Valdez called back, "No ambulance either. It's fine."

She rubbed my back as I swallowed on a hot lump. I felt in worse shape than she was.

"You're a brave boy, Eric," she said.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

She winced, clutched her shoulder, "My arm, but its an old injury."

It was then it happened. A roar grew overhead, grew until it rattled the windows and the ground underfoot. Mrs Valdez stumbled with a cry of shock and I felt the guts drop out of me as the world went deaf. Then the roar began to fade, the rattling settled.

And in its wake a streak of white light blazed across the inky black sky, parting the city gloom to show for a brief moment a brilliant array of stars.

I gaped in surprise, heard Mrs Valdez do the same. Then the bright streak came to a point high above the city, a single white dot.

A star.

That errupted into a brilliant shower, thin trails streaking down all across the city.

I stared in wonder, it was...I didn't have the words for how beautiful the cascade of falling stars was.

I was so taken with it I didn't notice the roar return until it had built to a low howl, climbing higher and higher. Then the rattling began again, worse, it was an earthquake. The world itself jumped up under my feet. The apartment buildins shook in their foundation. Then the bright hot light, smaller than the last, came screaming down from the night, a shooting star, or a missile. Night was wiped out in the hot white blaze, cold turned to heat, our street turned black and white.

"Mrs Valdez!" I pushed her back, the last thing I thought to do before it hit me.

And the world and with it my terror, all disappeared in the enveloping white.

>>4528219
Oh great, we’re going to be a fucking magical girl
how old is Ms Valdez btw, I know you said she’s short and fat but Latina MILFs are top tier and I’m betting she’s got a daughter/niece

>>4528273
How is getting hit with a star equal magical girl

>>4528424
The main character from Monsters Vs. Aliens got hit by a shooting star, does that count?

You still alive OP?

>>4528822
yeah, I'm here

>>4528273
Mrs Valdez is in her 50s and has a moustache

Writing up the next chunk, bare with me

>>4528839
Looking forward to it, liking the quest so far

>>4528424
How doesn’t it?
>>4528839
Damn

"Eye witnesses referred to it as an explosion, but according to NASA experts the light over Chicago was a rare atmospheric phenomenon. Similar events were witnessed over-"

"It really was just a harmless light show. Any concerns over health orpublic safety are entirely unfounded. If there was a risk-"

"In other news, a mass shooting on Chicago's South Side leaves five dead-"

The sound woke me up, snatches of conversation skipped over as channels were changed. I was in my bed, still in my clothes. I don't know how long I was out. When I checked my phone it was in the AM, the sun slow to rise outside. Instead of getting up I scrolled through the messages I had backed up.

Kemal - Holy shit!

It was a photo from Kemal, part of a message chain. It was a picture of a blurry white dot hanging over the city.

My stomach tensed. Last night was a white hot blur. I put the phone down, closed my eyes. 'Atmospheric phenomenon' my ass.

When I sat up I straight away bent over, my whole body now awake and sore. A painful throb ran through me, red hot and intense. It faded though, lasting only an intense few seconds. My eyes blurred but I got my feet on the ground. Then the pain shot through me again when I tried to stand. Had I torn something or fractured something when I jumped down the fire escape? I felt my cheek, where the knife had cut me. A squishy bandage flexed under my finger.

I got up, moving with an unsteady old man's gait to the door.

My nostrils flared on the smell of bacon and eggs frying.

Pushing out, I saw Dad at the stove. He looked roughly how I felt, raccoon rings under his eyes, flipping the eggs in the skillet.

He muttered something. A bottle of Tylenol sat open on the counter. I shuffled past and popped a couple.

"I said you're an idiot," he said. He dished up the fried eggs and bacon onto a plate, set it on the table. "Mrs Valdez told me what happened. Jesus Christ Eric, your life isn't worth an old lady's handbag."

"He had a knife," I mumbled, spearing the bacon with my fork. Dad's cooking was inconsistent. Not bad, exactly, just, he didn't always understand how to cook something all the way through. So his eggs tended to be on the watery side.

"Yeah, a knife," Dad dropped into a chair with his own food, his face dark, "Knives are dangerous. What if he'd had a gun? Jesus, Eric, what if he comes back looking for you? What if he has friends, bad ones?"

That took the flavor out of the eggs.

"Look," Dad said, "Don't, I don't want you to be a coward. I don't want you to do nothing if someone's in trouble. But you have to...you're a bright kid. Be smarter."
He looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn't know the words.

"Is that all?" I asked, swirling the egg yolk with the tines of my fork.

Dad's jaw clenched, expression growing tough. "Get cleaned up and get to school. I'll see you late. I got a shift today."

"Two shifts in one week, wow. That's real great. You're really moving up in the world."

>>4528930
I shouldn't have said it, I felt mean for saying it, and I felt worse for the look that crossed Dad's face. It was the longest we'd talked in weeks and I'd shut it down. He sipped his coffee and stabbed his food, eating it in a quiet, sullen anger. When he was done he got up. "Get to school," he said, pulling on his denim jacket.

I finished breakfast in an unhappy silence, then hit the shower. Cockroaches watched me from the basin as I adjusted the taps. Pressure was bad and the heat took forever. I kept the bandage clean. When I got out and cleaned the steam off the mirror, I peeled it back to get a look at the damage.

It really was a small cut, barely as long as my finger tip, closed with a couple of stitches. I kind of hoped it would leave a scar. I don't know who stitched it up, I guessed Mrs Valdez's daughter. She was some kind of nurse or paramedic or something.

I put the squishy bandage back on then felt a hot grip on my guts. For a second I thought I'd puke, but the feeling passed. I got dressed.

School was waiting.
-
We lived on the west side but my school was in the north. It was a selective school, meaning you had to take a test to get in. Mom had heard bad things about most Chicago schools so she had worked me into their good graces. I passed the test easily enough, but I think our circumstances helped.

Getting there was a trip. I had to take a bus, transfer to another, and all up it took almost an hour. Back in Indiana I got to school on my pushbike but my bike had been stolen first week here and it was too far anyway.

All the way there I was sweating. Whatever chill wind was blowing off Lake Michigan I wasn't feeling it. It was a weird kind of fever. My body was sweating but my head was clear.

My school was big, so big when I first saw it I thought it was a college. It had a bell tower rising up from the main building, all red brick, and the bell did ring the hour. Most of the students were from northern areas, let's just say they were nicer places than where I lived, and I was learning in Chicago where you lived mattered.

Nobody talked to me when I came in. That was normal. It was only a month and I hadn't got to know anyone yet anyway.

Then I heard - "This. Little. Nigga. Right. Here!"

Kemal's hand clapped hard on my shoulder and I looked up into his grin. Kemal called himself a caramel bear and it made sense. He was tall and pudgy, not fat exactly, and he was loud.

"Ditched me for the nerd work, broke my heart!" He dressed in a preppy way, popped collar, chinos, shades sitting on the top of his head, but it was mostly a put on. He was from the southside, a rougher place than my neighborhood. "You see the alien stuff last night? Crazy! Like the Death Star blowing up over Chicago. Dude it was metal."

>>4528931
"Yeah, yeah, I saw," I said.

"You know I heard," he said, dropping to a whisper, "It was some kind of experimental new missile. Some kind of Lockheed-Martin shit gone haywire."

I swallowed, gut clenching, sweat dribbling down my neck.

"You ok homie?" he asked.

>I'm fine
>Tell Kemal about last night

>>4528934
>I'm fine
It's probably nothing...

>>4528934
>I'm fine

>>4528934
>I'm fine
>I’m good man, just slept like crap
Can’t wait till we start getting signs of our powers

>>4528934
>I'm fine

>>4528954
>>4528956
>>4528958
>>4528985
locked in, writing

"Nah man, I'm good, just slept funny," I said.

"Hmm," he looked me over, "Maybe you should see the nurse. What you got up first, English?"

"Yeah, we're covering Shakespeare, Othello."

"Yorick, I knew him," he said.

"That's the one," I replied, "You like Shakespeare?"

"Nigga, I like theater in general, the Bard is my boy," he said, "I played Prospero last year in the Tempest. Hey, do you sing? You know we're putting on a production of Les Mis, you should try out."

"Uh," I said.

"Not your thing? All good. Think about it though, could help you meet people, make friends. Anyway I got class. Later gator!" he waved as he walked off.

"Later," I said, waving back.

English. At my old school our English teacher had been an old guy, Mr McMichael, a man of eternally stuffed nostrils and phlegmy throat. He wore tweed and walked with a cane.

My new English teacher was uh...

"Eric," Ms Flores called me by name when I walked in, the dimples in her cheeks deepening with her smile. A breath stopped mid-throat when she stood up. She was twenty something, wore a black dress that matched her thick dark hair, and had the curves of an instagram model. We were dead-on the exact same height.

"Ms Flores," I kept it cool-ish, but the burning feeling grew worse and in all new places.

"Please Eric, call me Carmen," she said, and touched my shoulder. She had warm, feline eyes. "Did you do your homework?"

"Homework?" my voice cracked, I sounded like a parrot. God I'm a loser. "Homework!" I went into my bag, flipping through my notebooks.

"It's all right," she said, nose crinkling oh so cutely, "Just take a seat." Her finger poised over my bandage. "Cut yourself shaving?" she asked.

"Uh..." I touched the bandage. In my head I thought 'No, I got cut fighting off a thug trying to rob my neighbor. It was badass. By the way are you single?'

But I just awkwardly smiled and laughed as I went to my seat. I kept my head down.

The school was heated for the fall. By mid-day I was sweating like it was mid-July. I shuffled through classes, mumbled my way through questions. It was getting more and more clear I wasn't feeling well. People were giving me space. I was thirsty, and hit the water fountain, drinking long gulps, the cool water cooling me down.

The gum chewing turned my head.

>>4529071

"Some kids you see and you just know they ain't going anywhere," Mr Sack taught PE. Mr Sack was an asshole. He had a bulldog face and sandy blond hair thinning at the crown, skin blotched with freckles. He chewed gum, gnashing it in his mouth. "No Hopers, I call 'em. I put 'em in the No Hopers Club." He wasn't talking to me, he was talking to Mr Nfume. Mr Nfume was a tall, thin black man. He taught chemistry, he also coached the basketball team. Mr Nfume sipped coffee from a white mug chipped at the rim as they patrolled the halls together, Mr Sack glaring at me.

"You tweaking on something?" now Mr Sack was talking to me, "You look like you're on something. Dropping molly, smoke some crack? Huh?"

"Huh?" I said, water running down my chin.

"You're Miller, the transfer," he said, "I got my eye on you."

They kept walking. "Like I said, No Hopers, I can spot one a mile away..."

My gut churned. I went to my locker, switching my books for chemistry. I tried the combination once, twice, three times. I wasn't getting it, my fingers were slick with sweat. I grabbed the handle and jerked it with frustration. Burning swept down my arm, a hot pins and needles flooding through my hand. The locker door came off with a crack, swinging free in my hand.

"Wow!"

I dropped it with a metallic crash. I looked up, and realized I'd had the wrong locker. This was some girl's locker. I backed up, looking at my hand. The fire burned unseen under my skin. I held it to my chest, gasping. What the hell. I looked up and down the corridor. no one had seen me, yet. My head was starting to spin.

>I've got to get out of here
>Maybe I should see the nurse
>Just keep it cool, stay in school

>>4529073
>Go to the nurse
Fuck that teacher, and fuck that other teacher too

>>4529073
>I've got to get out of here

Hey OP keep it up, this is some good shit so far. Way beyond what I expect from /qst/ these days. Appreciate it.

>>4529073
>Maybe I should see the nurse

>>4529073
>I've got to get out of here
Yeah, I'm digging this style OP, really good. Also I like Kemal, here's hoping he doesn't get benched

>>4529164
>>4529103
thanks

If the next vote is

> stay in school

I'll be annoyed

>>4529073
>I've got to get out of here

>>4529280
>>4529164
>>4529090
locked in

I understood a little of what an asthma attack must feel like. I strained to breath, stumbling for the door, feeling my heart beat expanding in my chest, its throb heavy bass pounding through me. I couldn't get enough air. My body was pouring with sweat.

I knocked into someone.

"Watch it asshole!"

The voice came through in a distorted. static

Nothing was clear, the world was set at a dutch angle as I came out the front door, bursting into a cold wind whipping the flag above and over my own burning skin. For a second I thought I was going to puke again like I did last night.

Pressure closed around my head, my mouth wide open, nostrils broad, trying to suck in air to fill my struggling lungs.

I staggered out of the school gate, body heaving, grabbing at the front of my shirt. Was I sick? Was I going to combust? What the hell was wrong with me? I felt as if I was going to...going to explode.

A shimmer covered the world, silver lights bright. My legs were weakening, jelly in my knees. I kept moving. The heat, oh God.

Had to get out of here. Had to get...somewhere.

A sound broke through the pressure, almost too late. I turned to see a car caming for me. Saw the frightened expression behind the steering wheel. The horn blaring, the crunch of the brakes. Our expressions matched in a frozen moment.

>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 50

>>4529307
>caming
coming

I'm going to be more careful with proof reading in the future

Rolled 66 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4529307

roll 100 you get a crit success

roll 1 you get a crit fail

crit success trump crit fails, but crit fails trump all other rolls.

Rolled 50 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4529307
So, so far we have super strength and super nausea

No one around to roll huh

Rolled 54 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4529307

>>4529317
ok, good result. writing up.

I jumped.

My foot landed on the hood of the car. The bottom of my foot pulsed with heat and around it flared a white light. Then I leapt.

Cold wind swept over me as I launched up over the car and into the clear blue sky. My lungs cleared with one great exhale, eyes wide as I arced higher and high, one foot in front, arms to either side. Beneath me the car screeched to a halt but I was leaving it far behind, my cheeks numbed by the force of the whipping wind, the pulsing heat running through me just pouring out, filled instead with an awesome rush.

The school, the street, the buildings, all raced by underneath me.

I was flying! I was flying!...wasn't I?

Then I began to drop, coming down in a long arc. I wasn't flying, I wasn't flying. I came down and the street rose up to smash me.

I flailed. My foot hit the ground, the shock running up my leg, my ankle twisting, sent me rolling into a sliding stop.

Pain raced through my legs, but not as bad as I'd expected. In fact, I didn't mind the pain at all. I was too busy panting up at the clear blue sky, breathing starting to settle.

When I got up I was in front of a Wendy's. The school was, I don't know, a mile behind me? The car was stopped in the middle of the street, driver out and looking bewildered.

The silver light had cleared, the world had come back into sharp focus. Sharper, maybe. The nausea was gone. I looked at my hands, trembling.

A paper bag dropped and a porky dude out the front of a Wendy's stared at me, his bag of burgers at his feet. I got up, a sting in my leg putting a hitch in my step. My belly squelched for food.

"Yo can I borrow a fry?" I asked as he picked up the bag.

He shoved it at me. "T-take it," he said.

"No man, I just want-," but he was already waddling out of there, leaving me with the bag in hand.

Shrugging I opened it up. What guy orders five sandwiches? Anyway, I took one and started eating. Before I knew it I'd sucked them all down and was still hungry for more. I wiped the grease off with the bag and dunked it in the bin.

I'm a lot of things but I'm not stupid. It was the 'atmospheric phenomenon' that had done this to me. Whatever knocked me out last night had left me changed. I don't know how much, but I'd done something no human being was able to do. Real...super hero stuff.

No, no, no, don't be stupid. I jumped good, that wasn't any kind of super power.

I'd also ripped the door off a locker.

I wondered...just how did this work?

In my belly I felt the strange heat start to build, kindle, the start of a fire. Not as overwhelming as last time but the same kind of feeling, a second pulse.

Was that where it came from? But what powered it, what was the fuel? Was it just part of me now or did I need to, I don't know, activate it or something?

>>4529666
My stomach gurgled for more grease and fat. I stumbled into the Wendy's. I had ten bucks and bought some more food, wolfing it down, chips and burgers both, practically shoving it down my throat to the clear disgust of the staff. A soft burp and then I chugged the pop.

I stumbled out again, feeling better.

Okay, clear head. You'd done something weird but no one really saw it. Maybe a couple people but not anyone serious. Maybe the best thing to do was head back to class and just get through the day.

>head back to class, just be cool, be normal
>screw that, time to go test this stuff out

>>4529668
>screw that, time to go test this stuff out
it seems we have super strength and thankfully a better resistance as well

>>4529668
>Text Kemal that we weren't feeling good so we went home just a bad fever tell Ms flores pls
>screw that, time to go test this stuff out maybe a abandon warehouse will do

>>4529668
>screw that, time to go test this stuff out

>>4529732
Support. Lots of people saw how badly off we were, it's a good alibi.

>>4529732
this

>>4529732
Ditto

>>4529706
>>4529732
>>4529772
>>4529852
>>4529867
>>4529987
Locked in, writing

I got out my phone and fired off a message to Kemal.

Me - Hey man, you were right I am feeling off. Nasty fever. Decided to go home. Let Ms Flores know pls thx.

I walked with a slight hitch in my step, a dull ache in my knee. Whatever I was I wasn't invulnerable, had to keep that in mind if I was going to push myself, but it didn't put a damper on my growing excitement, an electric thrill shooting through my spine. Jumping like that, getting clear off the ground and hanging in mid-air so far above the earth, was like nothing I'd felt before. A rollercoaster without the safety guards.

The thing was finding a place to test myself, one without an audience. There had to be an abandoned warehouse or condemned building or something, this was Chicago.

Google Maps was a blessing. There was a place not too far from where I lived.

I caught a bus back that way. No one seemed to care I was playing hooky. Back in my home town a kid out of school would get noticed, but I guess Chicago was so big no one noticed or had the time to care.

Down the way I got a look out the window, watching the city transform around me from nice north neighborhoods to grimier, denser streets, suburban homes becoming apartment blocks. I caught a transfer, waiting ten minutes in the cold. Whatever the fever, heat, whatever it was that had left me sweating, it had broken and I got to feel the full experience of a Lake Michigan wind, a cold autumn promising a colder winter.

On and off the bus and I was back in our neighborhood. It was early afternoon but a couple houses were already jumping, hard bass shaking the windows, guys drinking malt hanging on the stoop. No one bothered me as I limped by.

Shouting came out of a window then a plate smashed, a woman started crying. I kept limping on.

A big pink nosed dog snarled at me from behind a chain fence, slobber flying as it barked.

I paused as I passed a house marked with police tape, a heavy set cop standing out the front while I don't know, forensics or something combed through the place.

"Keep walkin'," the cop said, expression flat and unfriendly under the bill of his cap.

I marked a hole in a window looked like a gunshot, but I did what I was told, I kept stepping.

I walked a good fifteen minutes, hopping a chain fence and ducking over a grassy field to get to the empty lot.

It was a squat building, run down with boarded up windows. I don't know when was the last time anyone had been here but it had a 'keep out' sign dotted with rust pinned to the door. It was nice and away from anyone, with a screen of trees blocking a view from the road.

I tried the handle on the door. Locked, of course.

I stopped, and focused on the little fire inside of me. I thought about how I'd torn the locker door open, the pins and needles feeling in my arm, the warm pulse. I tried to make that feeling in my arm, and slowly my arm began to throb with heat.

So I tried again, and the door pulled back. The lock broke, the door squealed open. I wedged my way in, stepping into a gloomy open space.

I don't know what this place had been, but it was a bunch of nothing now. Something stirred in a pile of trash in the corner, a swept up mound of plaster and other stuff. A rat raised its head, glaring at me for intruding on its feral kingdom.

Whatever. I cracked my knuckles.

I looked up, sniffed. Place was dusted and flaring up my allergies. The ceiling was plenty high though, the open space broad and wide. I hopped from foot to foot, nervous for no reason.

What was I doing here? What was I thinking? What would Mom think?

I shook the thoughts out as I loosened up.

Time to figure things out.

I started at a jog, from one end of the place to the other, just a quick back and forth lap. My limp evened out. I felt a pulse run through me. My speed picked up, now I was at a sprint, dust picking up under my feet. Faster, I was at a full run. Fast as I could go, I was at my limit, starting to struggle. Then I thought about the leap, the fever, the power in me. A light flashed at my feet.

I wouldn't call it super speed exactly, but Usain Bolt wouldn't keep up. I was flying across the ground, practically bouncing from one side of the space to the other, which was no small distance. Faster than a normal man. A quick step maybe, and on my next lap I turned it into a leap, again taking to the sky, wind whipping through my hair, a smile ripping open my face. I couldn't help but shout with joy as I hit the ground. Again though, my landing was off, I hit funny and went into a roll, huffing on my knees.

Where I'd leapt from I'd left a hot white foot print, the glow starting to fade.

The fire inside me dimmed but didn't die. I only had so much energy in the bank.

I was stronger than the average person, but I don't know by how much. Faster too. Quicker. More agile. But I had no idea what my limits were.

>test my strength
>test my speed
>test my agility

>>4530544
>test my strength

/qst/ is a lot slower than I expected so I'm going to try to make up for it with larger updates

>>4530643
As long as you keep running it I'll keep voting

>>4530544
>test my agility

>>4530663
I appreciate that

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4530548
>>4530673
I'm going to flip a coin.

1 is strength
2 is agility

>>4530710
ok, writing

I could move fast, I could jump high, and I was strong, but could I bring all that together?

I eyed up the distant wall, the thick cement pillars holding up the roof between it and me, a thought percolating in the back of my mind.

I skipped from foot to foot, breathing in and out, getting in touch with the burning spark inside me. Whatever I did, the little fire I felt in there was the key. Then I took a running start, and jumped. Mid-air I struck my legs forward, double kicking the pillar. The shock jarred my hips and I buckled into a squat, horizontal for just a second on the side of the column, then I sprung out, out to the next one along. Like a frog or a grasshopper I leapt from pillar to pillar, each time hitting with enough force to rattle me but not enough to break the pace, an explosion of strength carrying me on, a trail of fast disappearing foot prints left behind me.

I moved, giving the laws of physics the middle fingers, and I couldn't stop smiling. I didn't once touch the ground as I hopped from pillar to pillar.

I bounced to the wall but this time my foot slipped, and I flailed, swinging out horizontal against the plane of the wall. As I fell back I felt something turn inside me, as if my body knew how to move, and when I dropped it turned into a tumble, and I landed in the dust on my feet in a crouch, breathing hard, plaster dust threaded through my hair. I sneezed.

When I got up my legs were jelly again, and when I took a step my body tipped forward. I threw my arms out for balance, dancing forward. Then hunger punched me square in the gut. The fire inside me was down to burning embers, and with it my hunger was stoked into a vicious pinching animal. I was out of energy and now I was struggling to walk. I needed food and I needed it soon.

But I didn't want to go and I didn't want to stop, even if I was feeling woozy. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt like this.

The last time I'd felt...happy.

I struggled out of the abandoned warehouse, over the grassy field. I don't know how long I'd spent in there, but the sun was starting to dip, the chill building up into a cold dead atmosphere. The only sound as I hopped the fence was the clink of the rusty chain links and the pad of my sneakers on the road. Street lights were coming on as I moved back in among residentials. Dark figures moved in the park I passed, up to who knows what. nothing good. I'd lived in Chicago a month and change now and I knew not to go in the parks, least of all at night. Not a risk worth taking, yet.

When I walked it was doubled over from hunger-pains and a stiff leg. I hoped this wouldn't last. For all the good I'd felt before now I felt miserable.

A group of black guys came up the other way talking. I had trouble understanding them, they spoke in thick AAVE and I'm still a glorified country boy, but they slowed up when they saw me.

>>4530726
"Ey, you aight?" one asked. There was four of them, one of me.

"Fine," I mumbled, skin prickling with a sudden fear as they hovered around me. Maybe I should have crossed the road.

"You get in doors kid, you don't look so hot," he said, then they kicked on talking, leaving me be. For a second I was ashamed of being worried. They were just normal guys out and about. Most folks in my neighborhood were either black or latino, they weren't all criminals.

The lights of a cornerstore called to me and I hustled in. A big orange tabby cat lounged on the counter, a Latino behind the till.

"Ey, how can I do you?" he asked, smiling through an ink black beard. He wore a couple gold chains, his Hawaian shirt opened at the collar, and stank of cologne. He frowned, seeing me pale under the bright light. "You need a place to come down?" he asked, "The church up the road can take care of you."

"Food," I said, stumbling to the back of the store. I sniffed, looking around. Saw a pack of four microwave burritos. I snatched them off the shelf, bumbling up to the counter.

"You want me to microwave these?" he asked as I fished in my pocket for some change.

I was about to say yes when my guts just clamped down hard. "They're fine," I said, dropping coins on the counter.

He looked at me sideways while he rang them up.

Then said, "You the white kid helped out Mrs Valdez last night?"

The question took me by surprise. I didn't think word would have got out about that.

"Hector tried to snatch her purse, then a white kid jumped out, hit him upside the head. That you?"

I couldn't tell if his tone was respectful or suspicious, but he looked wary.

>yeah that was me
>I don't know what you're talking about

>>4530728
>yeah that was me

>>4530728
>yeah that was me

>>4530747
>>4530730
writing up

"Yeah, that was me," I said, popping open the first burrito. "Why?"

I started into a burrito, then the second. It wasn't pretty but I was starving.

The cashier pushed my pocket change back to me. "Consider those free, holmes," he said, "Mrs Valdez is a nice lady, you really stuck your neck out. But you got to be careful doin' stuff like that. This is a rough neighborhood, and you gots to know you stand out. Certain people start thinking you're a hero they might start thinking you're a problem, feel me? We all gots to live here."

"Oh," I said through the mashed up meat and tortilla in my mouth. The orange tabby swished its tail, looking up at me with narrow eyes.

"You want a pop?" he asked, getting out a can of coke and putting it on the counter. I cracked it and slurped it down.

"Don't worry about Hector though," he said, "He's small fry. Snatchin' purses don't make him a gangster. He's more sad than anything, ever since he got on the horse. I mean, he was always an asshole, but you could talk to him back then. Now who you got to look out for is the Latin Reapers. Those guys are on some bugged out cartel kind of crazy."

"I'm Luis by the way," he said, putting out his fist.

"Eric," I said around the rim of the coke, pounding it, "Thanks for the heads up."

"Keep it real Rico," he said, waving me out with a grin, "You come back whenever, we're open late!"

I went out guzzling the last of the can, a bit less limp in my step. Food was fuel, it wiped out my fatigue and put a bit of spark back in me. I hoped it burned it off too, because if I have to eat like this every day I'd be obese by Christmas.

Sun had set and my breath was frosty.

Back home and I turned the key to get into the building. It was only three apartments, each on top of each other with us in the middle, a staircase going up. Mrs Valdez was out, she lived with her daughter and her daughter's kid on the ground floor. Above us was Mr Green, an old black guy who didn't go out and only had a nurse swing by every other day for guests. I only knew he existed 'cause Mrs Valdez had told Dad about him.

I went up to our place, fought the lock until I got the door open.

Dad was still out like he said he'd be. I went to my room, dropped hard on my bed.

Something happened to me yesterday and now I was different, could do things shouldn't exist outside a comic book. It was that explosion, the bright light. What was it, and was I the only one? And why me?

Fate or coincidence? Had I been given something or had it unlocked something that had already been there?

I was getting no answers from the roach climbing up the wall, but I was getting sleepy. I rolled onto my side, and before I knew it I was out.

It was gun fire woke up me up, somewhere between midnight and sun rise. Just three sharp barks and screeching tyres, someone screaming then starting to cry. I lay in bed, eyes wide, heart cold. Was it our street or the next one over. Was it anyone I knew?

Eventually I went back to sleep.

I didn't see Dad when I got up for school but his jacket was on the coat hook so I knew he got in.

When I got to school I was called to the principal's office almost right away.

Principal Wrightson was a short, fat black woman with a fixed smile that frankly unnerved me. The vice-principal, Mr Getty, was a stick in a bow tie. He stood behind her chair, a white shadow in an ironed shirt. They wore the kind of beaming friendliness that said I was in trouble.

"Eric, thank you for coming," she said. She wore floral perfume. A photo of Obama sat on her desk.

"Am I in trouble?" I asked.

"Oh child," she laughed, "Please. We just thought it was time we had a talk. You're new here, a transfer!"

"Half way through the school year," Mr Getty said.

"When I talked to your former principal he said you were a good student, punctual, kept your nose out of trouble. Not an honor's student exactly."

"A solid B+."

This was some kind of good cop/good cop routine.

"Do you know our school has a 95% graduation rate?" she said, "We're proud of that. And one of the reasons we have it is because we take an active interest in our students' well being, all our students."

"All four thousand of them," he chimed in.

"Now yesterday you skipped school, just hopped up and ran out the front door," she said, "You should know this isn't how we do things here."

"No ma'am," I said.

"You worried us sick," she said.

"Gum?" Mr Getty offered.

"Uh, no," I said, turning down the strip of chew.

"We understand your circumstances have been...unhappy," she said, "And we've tried to give you as much slack as we can, but we take truancy seriously."

"I wasn't feeling well," I said.

"We have a nurse's station, a very good one," she replied, "Now we're starting to get concerned we've given you too much slack. Are you signed up for any extracurriculars?"

I wasn't, and they knew I wasn't.

"We have some very good clubs, excellent programs," she said, flipping through some papers, "We're strongly encouraging you to join one." She held out a list toward me.

"Voluntarily," Mr Getty said, "But you know, not really."

"You'll also need to come in Saturday morning," she said, "Out-of-school detention."

I took the list, looked it over. "And if I don't join a club?" I asked.

"Oh now why would you do that?" she said, grin wide, "All you'd be doing is damaging your own future. Your mom worked hard to get you into this school. She wanted the best for you. Why put all her hard work to waste?"

I swallowed a sour taste, neck prickling with anger.

"Take your pick," Mr Getty said, looking to the list, but meaning something else as well.

I looked down.

>music
>art
>drama
>athletics
>no thanks

>>4530881
>music

>>4530881
>>art

>>4530844
>athletics

>>4530881
>athletics
Don’t some US schools have target shooting teams? That might be cool
>Inb4 we become a lightly powered Punisher ripoff

>>4530974
>>4530958
locking it in.

"Athletics seems cool," I said.

"You're a bit short for basketball," Mr Getty was a bit smug.

But Principal Wrightson countered with, "Sport activities is a great way to burn off excess energy. I'm sure you'll find something there you'll enjoy," smiling over her clasped hands, she added, "Why don't you see Mr Nfume at first break to get signed up."

"Is that all ma'am?"

"That's all."

I got up, got out, feeling kind of jerked around.

"Oh but remember Eric," she called out the door, "Be here Saturday for your detention."

I kept walking. They'd been really nice about punching me in the ribs.

I bumped into Kemal in the hall.

"You get in trouble?" he said, walking up with me.

"Yeah," I said.

"Detention?"

"Yeah. Weekend detention too."

"Oh hey, then you'll get the full Mr Sack experience!" he patted my back in boisterous sympathy. "You know there's a party Saturday night. Why don't you swing by after detention and we can shoot the shit?"

Right now that seemed pretty cool, and I'd never been to a senior party. With beer. And senior girls. It must have shown on my face.

"I'll be your wingman, just remember to be yourself and you'll have a great time. Anyway, I got to skate."

We split off, him one way, me the other, lost in the hub-bub of school traffic.

As much as I'd had a talking to from the principal, I didn't focus much in chemistry. I was preoccupied by what had happened, the change in me, and the event that caused it. I wasn't the only one.

"Aliens," Ben was a fish-eyed nerd who came to school in a full suit, with rubbery pale skin, "It was an alien shuttle exploding in re-entry."

Chad snorted. Despite his name he was as big a nerd as Ben. "Yes, let's just jump to aliens. Please, if it was anything it was a meteoroid. A basic atmospheric break down dispersed over the city. They get them all the time in Siberia."

"North Korean missile," Annie stressed. She was an Asian girl with no chin and heavy acne. I figured she was the boss of the three. "It was a test run on a North Korean attack, intercepted by our own missile defense system. We're lucky it wasn't carrying a payload or we'd be gone. You'd be lucky if the blast killed you."

"Oh please it had none of the qualities of a missile," Chad said, "The most logical and therefore most likely explanation is-"

"Aliens!"

"Hey!" Mr Nfume called from the front of the class, half way down a chemical equation, "What in God's good name are you all arguing about?" They piped down, focusing back on him. He glared across the class. "Nobody better peddle any of that Alex Jones, Joe Rogan psuedo-science conspiracy bullshit in my class room, you got that? The Earth is round, climate change is real, and Beyonce is the finest thing God gave two legs, am I understood?"

"Yes Mr Nfume," we all said in unison.

"And as for the explosion the other night?" he glared, then nodded at Ben, "He's right, it was goddamn aliens. Now focus up."

After class was done I went up to him sitting at his desk.

"Mr Nfume?" I said.

He took a long sip of his coffee before looking at me.

"I was told to come talk to you about joining the athletics club," I said.

"You're that trouble maker from yesterday," he said.

"Principal said I had to join a club," I said.

He looked me over. "All right. You ever play any sports before?"

"Some backyard hockey in the winter," I said.

"That's a 'no'. Don't dress up inexperience kid, this isn't a job application," he said, "What kind of sports you into?"

I took a second to think. "My dad's a big Pistons fan."

Mr Nfume smiled. "Careful where you say that or you'll get shot." He got up. He really was tall, looming over me. "We always need equipment people," he said, "If you don't make the cut for one of the teams we can put you in as support. It's not fun but from what I've heard you having fun isn't the point. I'll let you know now you keep it straight with me and I'll keep it straight with you. Tryouts are tomorrow after school, don't be late."

"Yes sir," I said.

"'Sir', good, I like that," he said, "Now get out of here, I got my own lunch waiting."

Well that was that I guess.

By the time last class came around I was just itching to get back to the empty warehouse, to keep figuring out my powers, ad just to use them.

It was biology and we were dissecting frogs. I got partnered with a girl.

"Hey, you're the new kid right?"

She smiled. She had thick auburn hair and freckles, a bright smile that matched the kind twinkle in her eyes.

She gave me her hand. "I'm Kaylee," she said, "But call me Kay." I already knew her name. I'd seen her before, a couple times.

"Eric," I said, "Just Eric." She had soft hands, soft, warm fingers.

"I'm actually on the student council you know," she said, "If you need help with anything...getting to know the school..."

"Heh, yeah, maybe," I said, swallowing as I took scalpel to frog belly.

"Just let me know, Just Eric," she said. I tried not to blush. I failed. She shot finger guns at me. I kept my focus on the incision.

The class passed without me stabbing myself so I called it a win. I'm not a complete loser around girls, but back home the girls had been, not what was going on around here.

"You know we're headed down to the Loop after school," she said when the bell rang, "You should come along."

"I would but, uh," I said, really wanting to get to the warehouse but really not wanting to pass this up.

"It'll be fun, but no pressure," she said. She had a dimple on her chin.

>yeah ok, see you there
>sorry I already had plans

>>4531011
>sorry I already had plans
Second day of testing for safety reasons

>>4531011
>yeah ok, see you there

>>4531011
>yeah ok, see you there
Ah, teenage spaghetti

>>4531549
>>4531101
locking in

"Yeah, sounds like it'll be fun."

"Cool," I liked the way she said 'cool'.

The rest of school went by in a hum, and the next thing I knew when I was going out the front door I was looking for Kay.

She waved from under a tree out the front, a couple of others with her. Two white guys and a black girl. Kay made the introductions.

"This is Zeke and Dane," she said, "This is Ayesha." Ayesha was the black girl. She wore her hair short and natural, and had a pair of round glasses.

"Sup," Zeke had long floppy hair that fell over his face, hiding his eyes but not his grin. Dane just nodded. He had an Eastern European kind of look going on.

"You're the new kid?" Ayesha asked, "I think we're in English together."

"Yeah, maybe," I said.

"We're just waiting on Hunter," Kay said, "Then we'll get going."

Hunter it turned out was a tall white guy, and when I say tall I mean tall. He was six and something with a build starting to look adult, which gave him a kind of swagger.

"Hey guys, what's good?" he said, dishing out fist bumps until he got to me. When he went to bump knuckles he skated his fist away at the last second, brushed it through his hair. "Maybe next time," he said, leaving me hanging. Whatever.

Ayesha rolled her eyes while Kay gave a frustrated sigh. "You're a big jerk you know that?" Kay said.

"Yeah," Hunter said, "I'm just hazin', wassup? You're the guy going to try out for the basketball team or something? That's cool."

"Hunter's the power forward," Dane said, "He's good too."

"Yeah," Hunter wasn't modest.

"Sportsball, ugh," Ayesha said, "Can we talk about literally anything else?"

"Anyway gang, let's go," Kay said. Whatever Chad energy Hunter gave off I thought it was clear Kay was calling the shots. Either way she herded us along.

It was a walk to the station and we caught the L down to the Loop. The Loop is the heart of Chicago's downtown. All the fanciest restaurants, entertainment, sights and sounds. We got out at Washington/Wabash, near Millenium Park. It was busy, crowds streaming through. The L was always crowded in the mornings and afternoons, we were packed in with the working crowd and happy to get off into the fresh air, a cold wind coming off the lake.

Chicago's heart was home to some of the tallest buildings in the world. Being from No Where, Indiana, the first time I'd seen them I'd stared. They went so far up you couldn't see the top from where you were standing. I was more used to it now, but it still set an excitement running through me. Knowing something and seeing it are two different things, and I understood what a skyscraper really was now.

People in their multitudes went this way and that. There had to be something of everything in Chicago. It was a place no one would stand out because it had everything and then some. People talked about the melting pot of New York City but I figure Chicago is a contender. Taxis and ubers waged war down the streets, bustling with traffic. We dashed through the packed ranks of gridlocked cars, following Kay's lead.

Millenium Park was set on the shore of Lake Michigan, the city looming behind it. When we got close live music came pumping down its broad boulevard. A three member band, a couple guitars and a small drum set were playing local bluesy tunes, one of the guitarists crooning for a small audience. A hotdog stand stood just off, happily dishing out dogs to anyone stopped longer than a minute.

When we came up to the hotdog seller Kay asked, "You got vegan?"

The look of disgust he wore under his paper hat could have made a portrait.

"I can find something," Ayesha said.

"You vegan?" I asked.

Ayesha nodded. "Yeah but I'm not a jerk about it. You do you."

The rest of us got hotdogs except Kay and Ayesha. Must have been a solidarity thing. I got two and wolfed them down.

"Little man can eat," Hunter said with a smirk. I'm not tall but I'm not particularly short either, but I guess to Hunter anyone outside the NBA was short.

"So how do you like Chicago?" Kay asked.

"Is good," I said around the dog in my mouth. She had a lick of red hair fallen across her cheek and I just...really wanted to tuck it back behind her ear. She did it for herself, a natural smile lighting her face.

"Where do you live out here anyway?" she asked.

I swallowed the mushed up dog. "Out near K-Town," I said.

The others recoiled, exchanging quick, nervous glances.

"What?" I said.

"Nothing," Zeke said, "That's just a rough hood."

"Oh," by instinct I touched the bandage on my cheek, "Yeah, I guess its whatever."

"Everywhere's pretty rough these days," Ayesha said, like it was meant to make things better, but Dane and Zeke exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Hey, let's go listen," Kay grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to the music, the others dragged in our wake.

The band had a sign set up, with home made CDs for sale and a soundcloud link. Called themselves the 'Millenium Falcons'. I don't know much about music but Kay was digging them so I thought they were pretty ok.

It was about then shouts started up, the screech of tyres and the bee drone of motorbikes. The music faltered as the crowd broke up, and three bikers came bumping into the park from the street.

They dressed in matching white leathers with matching white bikes, each with a different black number on their helmet. I couldn't see their faces under the visors but they came to a rumbling stop. Their bikes were zippy little Japanese looking things.

"These guys," Kay said, getting closer to my side.

One of them, the leader, hopped his motorbike close to the band, ducked down and scooped cash out of the guitar case in front of them. The crowd cleared a wide space for him.

"Tax," the biker said, voice rough under the visor.

"Hey man, you can't just do that," someone in the crowd said. I saw Kay wince. The leader's head jerked around looking for the guy who had spoken, hand going to his belt like a gunslinger going for his pistol.

"Who are these guys?" I asked.

"The Stunt Crew," she said, "Just keep your head down, they'll leave."

One of the bikers scanned the crowd, spotted me with Kay. His bike groaned over, and he pointed at my remaining hotdog.

"You going to finish that?" he said. My jaw tightened.

"Just give it to him Eric," Kay said, holding me by the arm.

>give him the hot dog
>screw him, finish eating it

>>4531779
well i would love to sock the guy but im not sure if the rest have guns sooo
>give him the hot dog

>>4531792
changing to
You know fuck it
>Give the guy the hot dog but once he grabs it use power to knock the guy out then bumrush the other two. Go for face

finish eating to will just give him an incentive to antagonize us atleast giving him the dog will let him only have one hand free for us to hit him
honestly the second option seems like it'll end up with us fighting so might as well make a plan
cause fuck these duded we already played hero once might aswell again to make us seem either cool or stupid

>>4531779
>give him the hot dog
Changing my vote, revealing our powers is stupid. We can learn more about the gang and deal with them when we have a disguise.

okay, giving him the hotdog wins. writing up.

I handed over the half a dog left. He raised his visor. He had a squashed in pug face coated in blond beard. He didn't take his helmet off but pushed it over the lip, getting mustard over his top lip. His chewing was messy, bits of meat spraying.

The leader, looking for whoever had talked, pointed.

"You say something?" he said to a college student.

"You can't just do what you want," the college guy said, but he was losing his nerve.

A rip of velcro and the biker pulled something worse than a pistol out of his pocket. It was a phone.

He took a snap shot of the college student. "We've got your face now," he said, "We'll have the rest soon enough. Speak up again and see what happens." He slipped the phone back into the hip pocket.

Swinging back into the saddle of his bike, he revved it up. He popped up on the back wheel, spinning around, his cronies flanking him, and they zipped off, their flex done. The band wasn't in the mood for kicking out another jam after having a day's work swiped, and the crowd broke up with bitter muttering, the college student pale and shook.

"You did the right thing," Kay said, squeezing my arm. I could feel the press of her through her sweater.

"That was crazy," said Ayesha, looking a little frail.

"Man tries to take my hotdog he's getting something else," Hunter said.

"Is anyone going to go to the cops?" I asked.

There was uncomfortable laughter. "Even us sheltered suburb kids know the cops are crooked," Kay said, "They'll play it down, write it off as nothing."

"You pretty much have to shoot someone in front of a cop to get them to do something," Dane said.

"Unless you're black," said Ayesha, "In which case you just have to look at one funny."

"Oh please," Zeke groaned. Ayesha shot him an angry little glare.

"Let's not soap box," Kay said, playing peacemaker, "It's a nice day, we've still got about an hour of sun. Let's enjoy it."

But it'd be a lie to say the run-in with the Stunt Crew hadn't soured things a little.

We ended up down Harrison when I saw Kemal coming up the other way, walking with a girl in a hijab and a black dude.

"Yo Rico!" Kemal said, coming up with a big energetic grin, "Hey out and about, who're your friends?"

I made a couple introductions and he did the same. "This is my cousin Nasim," he said about the girl, "This is Jamal."

"As-salam alaykum," Jamal said. Kemal and the girl, Nasim, both looked awkward.

"He's from my mosque, man, he's new," Kemal explained.

"I've discovered the truth and beauty of Islam," Jamal said, and I was worried he was about to produce some literature.

"Dude don't be a nerd," Kemal said with a laugh, "Anyway, good to see you homie. You still going to try out for Les Mis?"

"I am," Kay said, "For Eponine."

Kemal smiled. "Hey cool, I can see that. I'm going for Jean Valjean."

"You could totally pull off Jean Valjean," Kay said.

"Oh yeah?" Kemal put out a hand and in the middle of the street belted "Two-Four-Six-O-One!"

Someone stuck in traffic shouted back "Yo shut the fuck up." Kemal just laughed.

"Well I'll see you at auditions," he said to Kay, "Maybe you too huh?" He said to me with a wink and a subtle look toward Kay. "We need a Marius!"

He and his pals went one way, we went the other, ending up in an arcade.

All in it was a good afternoon, but by the time the sun was gone and the cold night was reaching in from Lake Michigan, we knew it was time to go.

"See you at school," Kay said.

"Yeah see you," I said, not really to anyone else.

And maybe the run in with the bikers hadn't been so bad. No one got hurt. I saw a squad of them zip by on their white bikes, light trails glowing behind them, heedless to the law as they weaved through traffic and through a red light.

You hear stories about the kind of town Chicago is. Murders and gangs all over the place. And it was kind of true in places, but there was good stuff here too. I got on the L, winding a scarf around my face, pulling up my hood. It was getting cold, a heavy kind of cold that just grew harder with the dark as the train chugged around to the next station, traffic crawling by underneath it with bright lights bouncing off car hoods.

By the time I got back to my neighborhood Chicago had become a city of street lights. The skyscrapers glowed with office lights left on, giant steel and glass lighthouses in a sea of brick and cement.

I got off feeling hungry and figured Dad wouldn't have made anything, so I swung by Luis' corner store for a bite.

I slowed on seeing guys out the front. White guys, and definitely not Latino which was weird.

They wore heavy parkas and had a greaseball look. All of them were on the older side, standing out front while inside, a little guy with a flat cap was talking to Luis.

"Now see, we've been out of town a while," he was saying, "But now we're back, and you've got rents due."

"I own my land," Luis said, face stiff.

"You don't own shit unless Rooster says you do," the guy said.

"Rooster's in the joint," but Luis didn't sound certain about that, "And this is Latin Reapers turf anyway."

The guy in the flat cap looked amused, looking at his goons. "He got out on good behaviour, and we made a deal with the Reapers. They say you ain't with them, so that means you owe us."

"I didn't bust my ass off building this to sell it to the Outfit," Luis was sweating.

The old man sighed. "Bruno?" he said, looking back to the biggest goon.

Bruno stepped forward, and his fist rocketed over the counter to lash Luis in the face. He went back, hitting the cigarette dispenser, his orange cat skittering away with a hiss.

"Now you can keep talking to me, or you can talk to Bruno," the man said.

"Chingate asshole piece of shit," Luis spat, a cut spilling blood above his eye. Bruno hit him again.

"That Latin pride," the little man said, like he knew it was going to come to this.

One of the Outfit goons glared at me and I pulled my scarf up tight over my nose, the hood of my sweatshirt already up. I glared back, couldn't help it.

The fire inside me began to flare.

>step in and do something
>stay out of it

>>4531919
>step in and do something

>>4531919
Shove the little man's head up Bruno's ass, Will Smith hobo with super strength style.

>>4531919
>step in and do something

>>4531949
>>4531939
>>4531921
locked in, writing

Anger stoked the fire in me. I wasn't going to let them beat Luis into the ground.

I looked up at the goon.

"Wait right there," I said, voice muffled behind the scarf.

I jogged down the way I'd come, until I was maybe fifty yards back. I squared up. The fire inside me built up. My skin prickled hot. I'd only had a day to practice, now it was go time, now it was time to use my new gifts for real.

I saw Luis get dragged over the counter, blood running from his nose. Bruno raising a big fist ready to squash his nose even more. Nerves locked my legs for a second but I exhaled, letting them go even as fear fought the white flare glowing inside me.

I dropped to a runner's starter, eyes fixed on the thug blocking the corner store entrance.

This was it.

I coiled back like a spring, and like a spring I launched forward, not a run but a jump, the street whistling by me, the thug growing tall, the look of shock on his face growing wide.

> roll 3 x 1d100 +20 dc 60

Rolled 44 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4531965
inb4 we accidentally turn them into paste

Rolled 14 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4531965

>>4531967
unless the next roll is a critfail this is a success

Rolled 23 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4531965
Rollan again because I'm an impatient fucker

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>4531965
>>4531976
Here's the critfail

Rolled 94 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4531965
>>4531987
Now with the proper modifier!

success

writing

>>4531988
Damn, nice roll anon. We're gonna need your luck after we piss off every gang in Chicago.

>>4531987
>>4531988
Lo siento anon I wasn't expecting another roller so soon

I hit him hard, feet first right in his chest. With me on top of him we crashed through the front window, shattering the glass. He hit the ground. Glass sprayed over Bruno and his boss, both of them pulling back in shock. I leapt off the goon and landed on the top of a shelf, squating on the corner edge. The goon stayed down, groaning in his bed of glass, white foot fading on his chest. My body burned hot, I was jumping in my skin, eager to keep moving.

Bruno shouted, "Frankie!" and the boss, the little man in the cap, reached into his jacket saying 'What the fuck?"

I leapt from my perch, dropping right on him before he could draw the pistol. He went down under the impact of my weight. I rolled off, leaving him groaning behind me. Bruno let Luis go, swinging at me. I ducked, and came up with a punch of my own, driving it into Bruno's chin. Where the knuckles hit there was a flash. Pain rocked my arm, he had a granite chin, but his knees gave out and he collapsed back against the counter. Groaning he got up, slipped a little, but found his feet.

It occured to me that I know exactly nothing about fighting other than a dust up one time in middle school.

"You don't know who you're messing with!" flat cap on the ground said, pulling his cap back on to hide his thinning hair, "We're the Outfit. We run this town!"

Bruno tried to clobber me. He was sluggish, I stepped back. I grabbed him by his short, and with the fire inside me blazing, threw him through Luis' other store front window, glass smashing out.

This time Bruno didn't get up.

"You're dead! Dead!" the flat-cap, Frankie, said, but he said it as he was heading out the door, glass glittering on his shoulders, his goons soon chasing after him down the street, Bruno wobbling as he tried to keep up. Pussies.

"Bunch of clowns if you ask me," I said, feeling like the baddest mother fucker alive.

Luis got out from behind the counter, his face all puffed up. He went and he brought down the shutters, the grill over the front door. Locked up tight. He looked angry, scared, and relieved all while blood dribbled out of his nose. He sniffed back, his nose at a bad angle. He got a broom, looked at the glass, then looked at me.

"At least you covered your face this time kid," he said.

I winced. "How'd you know it was me?" I said, pulling down my scarf.

"The bag, the hoodie," he said, "Same height, build. I mean, I won't snitch but..."

He went to the back of the store, where they had all inds of surplus sporting junk. He came back with a pair of snowboarder goggles, handed them over.

"Hide your eyes next time," he said, "There's a reason the Lone Ranger hides his eyes."

He started sweeping. "That was some cool shit though," he said.

"You going to go to the hospital?" I asked.

"For this?" Luis shook his head, "Nah man, I can't afford no hospital. It's nothin' anyway."

"Those guys, think they'll come back?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Probably. Not tonight though I think. You going to be here when they do?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

Luis grinned blood stained teeth.

My gut pinched and I doubled over in hunger. Luis stopped sweeping, concerned.

"Just hungry," I said with a tight smile.

"There's a box of donuts back there," he said. I had them out and started feasting before he could say more. The powdered donuts went down one at a time, each after the other. "Jesus kid, you going to chew those?"

He got me a root beer from the back fridge.

"Sorry about the glass," I said.

"Eh," he waved it off, "I got a cousin can fix me up. So are you some kind of superhero or something? Or more like a Goku?"

Superhero? I guess I was. "Yeah, something like that," I said, draining the root beer.

"You better be careful man, you do it wrong a whole lot of evil is going to fall on your head," he said, "But you ever need help, you just swing by an' I'll do what I can."

"I won't tell nobody. We need more people like you around here. People willing to step up."

I believed him. He didn't back down against a bunch of gangsters ready to do some serious violence against him, and that was just for his store. The way he looked at me, the stubborn pride on his bruised face, I knew he was a guy would walk to his grave before he'd betray someone.

It was a kind of intensity I wasn't ready for. This wasn't a game, these were people's lives I was running into.

"Thanks," I mumbled. He let me out the back way and gave me a bag of groceries for my trouble. "Let me know if they come back," I said.

He grinned. "Don't worry holmes, I'll sort it out."

And that left me to wander home through the cold dark night.

taking a break

I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. its probably going to be more of a slow burn quest for a super hero story than some are used to. I hope the slice of life elements don't bore anyone too much.

>>4532044
I'm into it man, that's always missing from superhero quests. Especially when compared to the comics they're based on. If you're just seeing the superhero part of their life then the stakes are always lower in the end.

>>4532044
How bad will it be for us if we start putting people in the dirt? If the cops can't be trusted to do a damn thing then we'll be fighting the same people the rest of our lives.

>>4532063
I'd be careful about killing people.

I won't say you can't be a lethal vigilante, but there's consequences for it.

I don't want to spoil anything but just so you guys don't start ripping the heads off every jaywalker you see, you will get a chance to build a support network of allies in a sea of corruption.

>>4532063
I don't think we're the type of guy to go around killing. Not without some kind of extreme inciting incident. Causes more trouble than its worth anyway.

I appreciate all you guys playing and I'll pick this up again in a couple of days

>>4532114
I'm not saying we're there yet, but the picture that's been painted is pretty bleak. Fucking with these guys is already going to bring down a lot of heat, potentially from the reapers as well if they decide this is their turf after all. Nobody else is worried about dropping folks and we aren't bulletproof.

Interesting quest so far
I will say that we seem to be burning through energy at a frankly ludicrous rate. Every powered action we take seems to leave us with no gas left in the tank. I'm going to assume with time and a classic superhero training montage we'll be able to hold out long enough to do actual super heroics.
Do like the powers we've seen so far, seems pretty street level but with decent mobility and offense. Was hoping for a little more durability right off the bat though.

>>4533133
I think the biggest limitation is caloric intake, we should keep some high calorie snacks on us at all times

>>4533162
>I think the biggest limitation is caloric intake
That's my point though
I get that the powers are supposed to be draining for us at the moment and that's fine, after all we've only had powers for like 2 days
But this is a superhero story, which means we will need to be doing prolonged superheroics at some point
Having to stop every five minutes to dip into a backpack full of big macs is not an ideal or particularly entertaining solution

>>4533182
we should focus on efficiency then too

>>4533182
And I feel like I need to make an addendum to this
I'm not really even criticizing our guy being a big eater to fuel up his power reserves, Flash did it for years
What I'm saying is the need for refueling needs to be spaced out far enough to actually do cool fun super stuff
I'm totally okay with needing some practice to get this down to a reasonable level, but if this is every single time we try crime fighting we're going to have a short career and more than likely a short quest
Resource management in a genre that's all about spectacle is a recipe for disaster
Personal opinion

>>4533191
The superhero genre isn't necessarily all about spectacle, in fact a lot of the focus is on the effect of fighting crime on the hero's personal life. Maybe not in marvel movies or superhero power fantasy quests with all the favorite waifus, but in comics.

>>4532180
Great writing style QM keep up the good work
>>4533162
Maybe some of those 24-hour emergency ration bars?
>>4533187
Yeah I get the feeling we're using more energy than we need to at times.
>>4533182
>I get that the powers are supposed to be draining for us at the moment and that's fine, after all we've only had powers for like 2 days
We do need to spend some time in the future focusing on training but if we participate in basketball workouts we should be able to build our endurance.

I actually really like that we have this big flaw in our power. It keeps us from being over-powered and keeps the character fun by providing balance and a challenge. Hopefully the flaw can be mitigated in the future somehow, but I also hope that it isn't mitigated too much, or it will lose its function.

The squeak of sneakers on linoleum and the drumming of basketballs came from the auditorium. Inside the sophomore team was running drills on the court, overlooked by green and gold bleachers. I recognized maybe three people on the team and one of them was Hunter. I'd changed into my gym clothes, I didn't have a uniform. No one stopped on my account.

The school day had skated by and now I was here for my tryout.

Standing by the water cooler was a short fat kid with a weird smile, watching the drills with a wonder more suited for a professional game. He wore a jacket in the green and gold colors of the school and a Bulls caps.

"Yo," up behind me, sitting on the bleachers, was Kay and Ayesha. It was Kay who'd called out, and she hung over the railings with a smile. "Hunter said you were trying out for the team today so we thought we'd swing by and cheer you on."

A good kind of panic leapt up my guts. Did she like me? She was smiling down. Ayesha waved from behind her.

"Figured you could use the support."

Mr Nfume's whistle brought the drills to a stop, the team broke for a rest, forming a school circle around him.

"Basketball," he said, "Is all about triangles. Isosceles, equilaterial, right angles, all the rest. Where ever and when ever you move, you move in threes. Don't play that one-on-one street ball bullshit, other teams can play that one-on-one shit, we move as a team."

"Yes coach," the team barked.

"Get some water in you then get back on the court," he said. They broke from the huddle and Mr Nfume strode over.

"I'm here like you asked," I said.

The little fat kid fetched water for the team. "Thanks Howie," one of them said, shotting it back. The waterboy buzzed around desperate to help. A few of the team gave me looks giving me the impression I was an interloper, not particularly welcome and not wanted. Outside the waterboy I was easily the shortest guy here.

Mr Nfume took me aside and passed me the ball.

"Before we start, I need you to know something," he said. I listened. "Last year these boys were the freshman team. Next year they'll be the junior team, and if they stick with it they'll be the senior team. For some of them this game is their only shot to college. For a couple it might be their professional career. Without it, they don't have a chance at much else."

"I've seen your grades Eric," he said, "You're a good student. If you put your head down and do the work you could go any where you want. I'm going to ask you and don't sugar coat it, do you think that's true for Hunter?"

I looked over to the gangly player, chatting with Kay and Ayesha in the bleachers. "No sir," I said.

"Everyone gets a fair shot, that's how I roll," he said, "But I'm a teacher first, coach second. Do you get me?"

"I think so," I said.

"Ok, let's see how you shoot, then we'll run you through some plays," he said.

I jogged out onto the court, ball slapping on the linoleum floor.

"Woo, go Eric!" Kay cheered, and I tried not to blush.

Most of the team stopped to watch, judging me as I went to the three point line. It had been a while since I'd played any kind of basketball. Back home my middle school had a half court in the playground where we used to shoot, but I never got much use out of it. This auditorium with the lines in the school colors and the green and gold bleachers was a whole other world of sport. Still I didn't let it shake me.

I sunk two of five shots. Mr Nfume winced.

"Don't stress yourself, it takes practice," he said.

Now he ran me with a couple of guys running defensive plays, just to see how I handled the ball. He ran me up against Hunter and a black guy.

I took three steps before Hunter was crowding me, another and he tripped me up, stealing the ball out from between my hands. I hit the court hard and he was racing down to the hoop, netting an easy layup.

The black guy helped me up. "Got to do better than that, snowflake," he said, bumping me hard with his chest when I had my feet. Hunter passed the ball back to me, harder than he needed to.

"Come on Eric!" Kay said, clapping. She elbowed Ayesha to get her attention, she was busy reading a book.

Anger built a fire in my guts, and I felt the new power inside me start to flare up. Using it I knew none of these guys could touch me.

>draw on my power to get an edge
>no, keep it honest

>>4536184
>no, keep it honest
Oh shit didn't realize this was back!

>>4536184
>>no, keep it honest

>>4536275
I probably should have announced it some where like the /qtg/

>>4536280
>>4536275
locked in.

> roll 3 x 1d100 - 10 dc 65

how long does a thread usually last in the catalog? I think we're already in permasage.

Rolled 71 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>4536328

>>4536332
Permasage kicks in at 72 hours after thread creation, anyone with a brain sorts by last reply though. This thread will last a while before falling off the board, probably like a week or more

Rolled 16 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>4536328
Let's go!

Rolled 73 - 10 (1d100 - 10)

>>4536328
>>4536350
Now with proper formatting!

>>4536359
>>4536350
>>4536336
oof, just failed

I shook off the temptation. There was no need to go all out.

My sneakers squeaked as I drove forward with the ball, moving for the basket. The black guy stepped in my way trying to ward me off but I weaved around him, moving for a jump shot.

It was looking good until Hunter sprung up and swatted it out of the air, his team mate scooping it up.

I moved to intercept the black guy but got caught with a hard bump that knocked me down again. I got up quick, running after him, but he was half way down the court.

"Good hustle," the black guy said, firing the ball at me. I caught it, keeping to the spot while he and Hunter repositioned.

I was sucking shit through a straw and I knew it. If I could just get one basket...

I went for it again. driving forward I ducked under the sweep of the black guy's arm, going low and coming up. Hunter got all up in my face but this time I hit him with my hip, getting enough space for another shot.

It went up, hit the backboard, rounded the rim, but before it could sink Hunter popped up through the hoop and slapped it away.

"Almost," he said with a cocky swagger, fingers in a peace sign.

Mr Nfume's whistle ended the game. We jogged back over. I was sweating but feeling more raw from pride than being tired.

Mr Nfume wasn't impressed, we both knew it was an average effort.

"We'll keep you as a substitute," he said, "If anyone gets hurt we'll drop you in. Some training should get you up to speed, maybe by next year you can even start. Mean time you'll work with Howie in support."

"Yes sir," I said.

"Hear that Howie, you're the boss now," Hunter said, giving me an asshole grin.

"I'm the boss!" Howie said, beaming.

The black guy who'd knocked me down came up while the rest of the team dispersed back to practice. "I'm Rufus," he said, "You did ok out there, don't let the trash talk get under your skin. If anyone tries to block you out like that again though just drive into them instead of backing off."

"Thanks," I said, for all the good it did me.

He scooted off, leaving me with Howie. Howie smiled. "I'm the boss," he said, "You have to do what I say. Without us they can't play the b-ball."

There was clearly something not right about Howie.

But my attention turned as Kay came down from the bleachers, Ayesha behind her.

"That was rough, buddy," she said with a punch to my arm. I smiled anyway. "Hey Howie, how are you doing?" she said.

Howie smiled, clapped his chest. "I'm the boss now."

"Hell yeah you are," Ayesha said with a smile, giving him a high five.

"You know if you're feeling sore maybe we can talk it out over a shake," Kay said to me, "I've got to run lines with someone today, but what about tomorrow?" She tucked a lick of hair behind her ear.

Tomorrow? Her and me splitting a shake, I saw it like an Archie cover, sitting in a retro-booth.

"Yeah, that sounds..." I said, but then I remembered I had weekend detention. If I skipped it I was risking a suspension. She waited with big green eyes for my answer, wearing a sweater in the green and gold school colors.

I felt my heart banging on my rib cage.

>sorry Kay, I've got detention
>screw it, skip detention

>>4536409
>sorry Kay, I've got detention
let's do Sunday instead. or after detention tomorrow

>>4536414
Ditto

>>4536414
>>4536422
locked in and writing

"I've got detention tomorrow," I said, but I wasn't going to let that stop me, "Maybe we can meet up after?"

"Ooh, weekend detention, he's a bad boy," Ayesha said. Kay gave her a startled look, whipping back to me with red spots on her cheeks.

"Oh cool, yeah," she said, pulling on the hem of her sweater, "Text me when you get out and we'll uh, meet up. Maybe at Francisco's? It's a pizza joint, uh, I can send you the address."

"Yeah cool," I said, pressing a basketball between my hands.

When they walked away I caught Kay hissing 'Shut up Ayesha!' as Ayesha giggled.

So, I had a date. I think. Sort of. A loud pop had everyone jump. The basketball had burst between my hands.

"Must be defective," I said to Howie, who stared at the wrecked ball between my hands.

Practice ran for a little over an hour and I took a bus home, riding with miserable office workers scarfed up for the season.

Instead of going straight home I swung by the abandoned warehouse. I wanted to get some practice in there too. I barely understood my powers, and I hoped with more training the intense hunger it left me with would ease up.

After another hour bouncing around the warehouse, leaping off pillars and working on my landings, trying to put some of my new basketball skills to use, I was still aching with hunger. But either it was easing up or I was getting used to it, because when I hit Luis' shop I only ate half a dozen donuts and two burritos, almost half what I'd had the day before. We'd cut a deal I could have whatever was left in the back for free, if I could stomach it.

Right now I could stomach anything.

The glass still hadn't been put back in the windows and I wanted to ask what was up with those Outfit guys, but he had another couple of customers he was dealing with, a white couple come in from the suburbs for some reason, young with a hipster flare.

"Wow, its like a genuine bodega, cat and everything," the guy said, trying to pat Luis' cat.

"Eh, bodegas are more a New York thing," Luis said, "This is just my store. But hey, glad you like it."

"Random," the girl said, looking over a statue of the Virgin Mary as her boyfriend bought a pack of condoms.

"Come by any time," he told them as they wandered out, then rolled his eyes, "White people."

"I'm white," I said, buying a candy bar.

"You aint white, Rico, you live here," he said, skipping the tax on the candy.

"So those Outfit dudes," I said, munching on caramel and chocolate.

"I got a cousin who can step in there," Luis said, "He's tight with the Reapers, and he owes me. We should be good."

"Who the heck are the Outfit?" I asked, "The Mafia?"

"Kinda, yeah," Luis said, "You could say they're what's left of Al Capone's crew from way back when, changing hands over the years. They used to run everything in Chicago until they got broke up on a RICO thing. I guess they're back, trying to reclaim lost glory."

"And Rooster is their boss? He serious?"

"Salvatore Mangielo, he's as serious as throat cancer," Luis said, "Everyone calls him Rooster."

"Why?"

"Hell I don't know," Luis said, "Last night you ran into one of his capos, Frankie the Nose. You planning on running into him again?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe," I said.

Luis seemed to know what the score was, maybe he could give me a head's up. If I was a 'super hero' or whatever, I had to fight crime, right?

>ask Luis to keep an eye out for crime in the neighborhood for you
>he does enough for me, I should do that myself

>>4536525
>ask Luis to keep an eye out for crime in the neighborhood for you
We have no other way to gather intel, gotta start somewhere. Maybe he can introduce us to others

>>4536525
>ask Luis to keep an eye out for crime in the neighborhood for you

>>4536531
>>4536537
locked in

writing up

Luis had done me a couple of solids so far, maybe he could do me a few more. I didn't know who was who or whatever, but if I could stop another couple of muggings like with Mrs Valdez the other day it'd be a job well done.

"Hey Luis, you think you can give me a head's up when bad stuff is going down?" I asked, "Any bad spots I should scope out?"

He rubbed his chin. "I don't know if you're bullet proof or what, holmes, but there's always trouble in the parks. People getting robbed, rapes, murders. All kinds of nasty. You go scoping out there, you be ready for what you'll see, and remember to keep your face covered."

I nodded. We'd gone over this stuff the other night.

"Don't you got a home to get to?" he said. Yeah, I thought, with Dad passed out on the couch and a Hungry-Man dinner defrosting in the sink. I just waved off the question as I went out the door, sipping on a coke.

The cold night made the stitches tighter in my cheek, the cold rim of the coke can sticky. The street was lonely in the dark. A man coughed somewhere and a dog gave a vacant 'woof'. I scuffed my feet in the direction of home. I was tired from an afternoon of running around, on the court and in the warehouse.

But then I heard distant shouts that turned into a gun shot and the screech of tyres.

The neighborhood was cold and lonely, and no one was looking out for it in the night.

>head to the park and look for trouble
>head home and get some bed rest

>>4536625
>head to the park and look for trouble

>>4536625
>head home and get some bed rest
Just because we suddenly have super powers doesn't suddenly make us a super hero. We don't really know how to fight and we don't have food for if we use up all our energy fighting.
We just aren't prepared.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4536722
>>4536642
a tie so I'm going to flip a coin

1 is go home
2 is go fight crime

Part of me wanted to go find trouble and maybe cause some trouble of my own. The thought of good people getting hurt made my blood run hot.

But another part remembered what Luis said, I'm not bullet proof, or at least I don't think I am, and finding out from a Latin Reaper drawing down on me wasn't how I wanted to do it. And that left my belly cold. I didn't know how to fight, and just leaping in head first was going to get me into a badsituation sooner rather than later. I can't just go off into the night without thinking things through. And just because I can do some fantastical things, did that make me a super hero?

I'm fifteen and poor, I'm not Bruce Wayne.

I turned those thoughts and soubts around in my head while heading back home.

Going in I bumped into Mrs Valdez, her arm in a sling.

"Eric," she said with a smile, "How is your cheek? How is school?"

"Fine," I shrugged, "What about your arm?"

She sighed. "Old injury flaring up. It will be fine in a week. Come in, Maria said your stitches should be good to take out."

Without really giving me a choice she herded me into her apartment.

Her daughter Maria was thirty something and looked like her mother. She was still wearing her hospital scrubs, employee card dangling from a lanyard. They were sitting down for dinner, Maria's kid in a high chair playing with the inside of a tamale, but when they saw me they smiled.

"Eric," Maria got up, wiping salsa from her cheek. She went to a sidetable under a carttonishly large wooden fork, and got out a little kit. "Sit down, let's look at your scar."

I sat beside little Pedro, the baby staring at me with narrow dark eyes. Maria peeled back my bandage, fingers spread around it.

"Feeling tight?" she asked. I nodded. "One more day and it'd start to hurt, the skin starts to grow over them. Let's get these out." With the careful snip of tiny scissors she removed the stitches, then drew them out of the skin. I felt a flood of relief as my cheek slackened, not realizing how tight it had felt. I rubbed the tiny ridge of scar tissue.

It was a small purple scar right over my cheek bone, as long as the tip of my thumb. I wondered if it made me look dangerous or silly.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Mrs Valdez asked, "We have plenty."

It smelled good and looked hot, habaneros mixed in with beef and chicken, but I turned her down.

"Let me make you a plate," she insisted, and when I left it was with enough tamales to last the weekend.

Upstairs I found Dad on the couch, laid out flat on his belly and snoring. An empty bottle of whiskey lay under his outstretched hand, fingers flexing in some kind of dream. The TV showed a perfect blonde news anchor reading out terrible news in a practised tone.

"-brawl in downtown left ten injured and one in a critical condition, police say rival gangs-"

I turned it off.

I ate before I got Dad up and like usual walked him to bed. He never fully woke up from his drunken stupor, but he did mutter some drunk gibberish in my ear, his breath hot and rancid. I dropped him on the bed.

"I'm on the basketball team," I told his unconcious body, "Just a substitute but...hey, I might be the next Larry Bird, right?" Larry Bird was one of Dad's heroes, and Dad didn't have many. He snored on the filthy blankets. "I got detention too," I said, "You can't say I didn't tell you."

I went out to the kitchen to put the left overs away before the roaches could get them. There was a pay check sticking out of Dad's jacket. I guess his work was steadier than I thought.

I washed up, went to bed, and thought about today while worrying about tomorrow. It had been a good day. I even had a date lined up with a cute girl. Thinking about Kay made me think about Kay in other ways, and I groaned turning over, face shoved into my pillow as puberty rioted through me.

Tomorrow I had detention, then a date, then maybe a party with Kemal.

After months of...of one bad thing after another, life was starting to head in a pretty ok direction. Something told me it wasn't going to stay that way. It was just a matter of which boot was going to drop, and how big the boot was going to be.

>>4536758
Based latina neighbors

we should train our power to limit how much power we put out so we can use it daily without it being ridiculous like jumping into the sky and without it using our energy/hunger alot
also how to fight maybe we take some boxing lessons if we find someone

I'm here and going to post the next update soon

No one wants to go to school on the weekend. When I got there what struck me as weird was how quiet it was. The school had around four thousand students, a thousand per grade give or take, so it was usually bustling, as busy as a small town with halls packed and grounds littered with groups. Now it was empty, dead quiet, looming silent in red bricks. The only sound came from the traffic behind me, which wasn't much but a local car cruising by. I headed in through the front door.

Detention was held in a small class room near where I had Chemistry. When I got in it was a small mix of students, from freshmen to seniors. The only one I recognized was a girl I shared English with, Ivy. It was a surprise to see her actually, she was one of those popular kids shaping up to take over the school next year. She sat at the back, pointedly ignoring everyone.

I slipped off my bag and took a seat next to a pudgy white guy with a shaved head. He looked like a senior.

"Brian," he said, "Wassup."

A couple others shuffled in, then Mr Sack showed up.

The door slammed open and he came in chewing gum with teeth gnashing in rapid intensity, black rings under his eyes, fuming on a bad mood. He wore gym shorts that gripped his bulge and showed off his pasty legs, a bulls cap pulled over his mean bulldog eyes, and a whistle bouncing on his man breasts. He looked over us with the kind of hard contempt a teacher shouldn't be showing. He stalked over to the white board, slapped it. Brian bounced in his chair.

"No Hopers," he said, "I don't know what you all did to end up here, I don't give half a god damn. The fact is you're here because you screwed up. You're in a good school, most of you come from pampered little neighborhoods with a mommy and daddy making bank, so you got no excuse for your screw ups. This ain't the hood, you got no place acting like hoodlums."

The gum squished between his teeth, drool flecking his chin. "So if you fail that's on you," he said, "Now normally I'd be having you run laps instead of sitting at a desk. So many you little pukes'll puke up your guts. But you No hopers got lucky today, yeah, you don't have ol' Mr Sack breathing down your neck."

I relaxed a little in my chair.

"But if you think you can pull any crap on the substitute coming in, you got another thing coming. This is one teacher you can't screw with. A real mean mother. You'll wish you had ol' Mr Sack to bitch about by the time you're done today."

His smile turned nasty and he stepped back. "Ms Flores, they're all yours."

Ms Flores' smile brightened my life when she came in, carrying a cardboard box. She was dressed down in blue jeans, jordans, and a Blackhawks hoodie, not even trying, but she still looked fine as hell.

"Thanks Mr Sack," she said, "I can take it from here."

"Watch yourselves," he warned us as he stepped out.

Ms Flores sat on the edge of the desk, hands clasped over a raised knee.

"Good morning kids," she said, "How are we all doing today?"

We answered with a general mutter.

She laughed. "That's what I thought," she said, "But hey, now that Oscar the Grouch is gone you can all relax. I'm not here to ruin your day. I know you guys just messed up. It's nothing serious." She shook the box beside her. "Now I can't let you kids just kick back and play Fortnite, we need to do school work of some kind, that's just how it goes, but that doesn't mean it has to be boring."

"So no writing essays about what you did wrong or just doing your Math homework," she said, "Let's try something a bit more interactive. I have a few select Shakespeare pieces here-" the groan from her captives cut her off. She played up mock offence. "You guys don't like Shakespeare? I thought all the kids were hip with Billy of Avon-Upon-Stratford."

"Is this where you tell us he was the first gangster rapper or some shit Ms Flores?" someone said.

She laughed. "Hell no, please," she said, "Have some respect. If it were down to me I'd just throw on a movie or something, but even us teachers have rules and I'm bending them as best I can. Now what we're going to do is go through pairs and read some lines and talk about them, figure out what they mean. We have a couple of hours to kill so let's get started."

"Do I have a volunteer to start us off?"

She batted her lashes over those big warm eyes and my heart fluttered with them.

>volunteer
>keep my head down

>>4537745
>Avon-Upon-Stratford
Stratford-upon-Avon

I'm tired

>>4537745
>volunteer

>>4537783
locked in I guess

writing it up

I tentatively raised my hand.

Ms Flores smiled. "Eric! Well I'm surprised to see you here, but glad you're willing to give it a shot." She pulled from her box a piece of paper, part of a script. "And do we have anyone else?"

She scanned the rows of seated students.

"Ivy, why don't you come and be Eric's partner?" she said. Ivy brushed back her thick golden hair with a light scoff, uncrossed her legs from off the desk, and walked up with a natural strut. She was tall, and looked down on me with a cool superiority. Ms Flores handed her a script. "We'll start off with something less than usual. No, not Hamlet or Othello or even MacBeth. We'll be doing a reading from Henry IV. Eric, you'll be playing Henry Percy, called 'Hotspur'. He's the villain of the story, a young lord with a bad temper, planning a rebellion against his king. Ivy, you'll be playing Hotspur's wife, Lady Kate Percy. In this scene you're annoyed with him, scared because he's keeping secrets from you, and angry that he doesn't trust you. Now you want to know the truth, and are done with his lies."

I flipped over to the second page. This went on for a while.

She looked between us. "It's an argument between two people who love each other passionately, but who fear for each other, and what the truth will do." Someone, I think it was Brian, hooted. It got him Ivy's ice-cold glare, which shut him up.

I swallowed, scanning the lines. Ivy read her own, a hand in her pocket, looking bored.

"Don't worry about giving a grand performance," Ms Flores said, "Just read out the scene then we'll discuss its meaning."

I nodded, looked up to catch Ivy's eye. "You ready?" I asked. Her lip curled in an unfriendly way. Sheesh. Was her problem with me or the world in general?

"Enter Hotspur," Ms Flores said, giving me the floor.

"But, for mine own part, my lord," I started, beginning a long monologue, "I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I
bear your house. He could be contented; why is he not, then? In respect of the love he bears our house. He shows in this he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why, that’s certain. ’Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my Lord Fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition. Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie." I stumbled over the words, my delivery rough and stilted. The Bard didn't move in me and I imagine Kemal would have cringed at my delivery, but I soldiered on, "What a pagan rascal is this—an infidel! Ha, you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself and go to buffets for moving such a dish of skim milk with so honorable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared. I will set forward tonight!"

It was a lot and I felt stupid over every word.

"Enter his Lady," read Ms Flores.

"How now, Kate?" I said, turning to Ivy, "I must leave you within these two hours."

Ivy's cool gaze turned into wrinkled worry, her lips pursed in concern, and she placed a tender hand on my shoulder. She didn't read from her sheet the way I did, but held it to her chest.

"O my good lord, why are you thus alone?" she asked, and for a moment I was stunned by the fear in her blue eyes, "For what offense have I this fortnight been a banished woman from my Harry’s bed?" she pressed close to me, "Tell me, sweet lord, what is it that takes from thee. Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth and start so often when thou sit’st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks and given my treasures and my rights of thee. To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy? In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watched, and heard thee murmur tales of iron wars, speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed, cry “Courage! To the field!” And thou hast talked of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents, of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets, of basilisks, of cannon, culverin. Of prisoners’ ransom, and of soldiers slain. And all the currents of a heady fight. Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war, and thus hath so bestirred thee in thy sleep, that beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow like bubbles in a late-disturbèd stream. And in thy face strange motions have appeared, such as we see when men restrain their breath on some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these? Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, And I must know it, else he loves me not."


I stared as her grip firmed on my shoulder, her head ducked to mine, speechless for the words singing in my ears.

"But hear you my lord," she said, covering my silence, "What is it carries you away?"

"My horse, my love, my horse," I said with a weak smile.

The fearful imploring upon her face twisted into a hot anger. I thought for a second she might hit me, and the power inside me flared in self-defense.

"Out, you mad-headed ape!" she spat, pulling from my side, "A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen as you are tossed with. In faith, I’ll know your business, Harry, that I will. I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir about his title, and hath sent for you to line his enterprise; but if you go-"

I entered quickly with my line. "So far afoot I shall be weary, love," I said with a forced grin, touching her on the shoulder to draw her back.

She turned back, snatching my hand in hers, pulling forth my finger to her lips, her eyes cold with deadly intent. "Come, come, you paraquito, answer me. Directly unto this question that I ask. In faith, I’ll break thy little finger, Harry, an if thou wilt not tell me all things true." She pressed my finger back as if she really would.

An anger in me grew and I jerked my hand from her grip. I no longer stumbled on the words but spat them, sheet scrunched up in my fist. " Away! Away, you trifler. Love, I love thee not. I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world to play with mammets and to tilt with lips. We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns, and pass them current too. Gods me, my horse! What say’st thou, Kate? What wouldst thou have with me?"

I was breathing hard, glaring at Ivy.

And her anger and ire slid into a sorrow that made my heart ache and regret my anger. "Do you not love me? Do you not indeed? Well, do not then, for since you love me not, I will not love myself. Do you not love me? Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no."

"I love you," I said, the words hot in my throat, though it wasn't the right line, and I saw irritation flutter through Ivy's imploring sadness. I checked my sheet, swallowing, forcing a smile, going for tenderness again, "Come, wilt thou see me ride? And when I am a-horseback I will swear I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate, I must not have you henceforth question me. Whither I go, nor reason whereabout. Whither I must, I must, and to conclude. This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate. I know you wise, but yet no farther wise than Harry Percy’s wife. Constant you are, but yet a woman and for secrecy no lady closer, for I well believe thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know, and so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate."

"How? So far?" she asked, her hand once more upon my shoulder, her voice again tender.

"Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate, whither I go, thither shall you go too. Today will I set forth, tomorrow you. Will this content you, Kate?"

She gave a slow nod, drawing from me, and again in sadness said, "It must, of force."

A moment of silence, then Ms Flores said, "And scene!" Ms Flores hid a grin behind clenched hands, eyes bright. "You were both wonderful!" she said.

Ivy eyed me over like she didn't agree. Gone was the string-willed but tender wife, now she was back to the high school bitch. Something squirmed in me, uncomfortable about what had just happened.

I thumped down into my seat, trying to ignore the attention I was getting from the other delinquents. For her part Ivy dismissed them from her mind, her feet up on her desk again, legs crossed as she leaned back in her chair.

"So, thoughts?" Ms Flores asked.

"Hotspur is an asshole," a girl said, "His wife comes up to him with all that and he gets shitty with her. Screw him."

"He certainly has a temper," Ms Flores said, "But is he really as big of a jerk as you think? Think about what she's saying about his restless sleeps and quiet anguish. Doesn't that sound like something else?" The girl turned uncomfortably in her chair.

"PTSD is no excuse for being a jerk," Brian said, "He got a fine lady and he's doing what, putting her aside?"

"No," Ivy said, and we all turned to look at her.

"He's got a big secret. A massive one. He's planning treason," Ivy said, "He's committing a crime and he knows the less she knows about it the safer she'll be if he fails, because if he fails he knows all his allies are going to be executed. And...and I think he knows he's going to fail, even if he won't admit it. When he reads the letter saying his friends won't back him up, he knows he can't win but has to try."

"Which is why she gives up trying," she said, "She knows he has a dangerous secret, and in the end knows she has to let him keep it. But she still loves him and stands by him. Because he's wrong about her, she's ride or die. And I think...I think she'd rather win or die with him, but he can't see that through his fear."

Slowly our attention dawned on Ivy and her cheeks bloomed pink. She buried her chin in her neck and stared at the window. "Or whatever," she said.

"That's an interesting perspective," Ms Flores said, "I don't know if the text fully supports it, but I like the direction. Now we're going to do another scene, this one's from Julius Ceasar. If I can get another volunteer..."

By the time detention was over my head was stuffed with too much Shakespeare.

Before I left Ms Flores held me back.

"You did a good job, Eric," she said, "Have you thought about trying out for the school plays?"

She hadn't been the first person to say that. "Between school, basketball, and my home life I'm pretty busy Ms Flores," I said.

"Hey, come on, it's Carmen, not 'Ms Flores'," she said, "I heard you joined the basketball team. How are you enjoying it?"

"Honestly I'm just the equipment guy," I said, "Mr Nfume says I might get to play if I keep working hard and training."

My phone buzzed. A text from Kay, a picture of herself at the pizza joint we were supposed to meet at, looking playfully sad.

"I uh, I got to go," I said, "Detention was fun, thanks Miss...uh Carmen!"

I waved as I ran and she waved goodbye.

I had a train to catch.

The L shuddered along the tracks, Chicago sweeping by, and I played with the button of my shirt. I'd never been on a...well, the last 'date' I'd been on was an awkward middle school dance that had ended with me getting food poisoning at a Chuck'E'Cheese. This was a real date, with a cool girl, at a pizza joint that didn't have cartoon mascots on the wall. I gulped, hands a little unsteady. She'd even asked me out. I don't think that's how its supposed to go, but I wasn't going to turn up my nose.

The train emptied out in down town and I checked myself in a reflective surface, checking myself against an ad for an insect exhibit at the museum. I looked as good as I was going to look, I guess. I sniffed my arm pit. no way should I be stinking up in this cool weather, but I was nervous enough to sweat. Fall leaves blew across the street as I made my way through the alleys cutting off the tall skyscrapers, backpack bouncing as I jogged.

I was dressed for a date but I had my 'disguise' stowed in my bag, a loose grey hoodie, a scarf, and the ski goggles Luis had given me. I hoped I wouldn't need them.

Finding the place was easy with Google maps. It was a retro-1950s kind of place. By the time I got there I must have had her waiting half an hour or more.

My heart climbed as I went inside, then dropped out of me. She wasn't alone, this wasn't a date. Hunter had his albatross wing-span arms stretched out over the back of the booth, and with him was Zeke and our team mate Rufus. Sitting opposite with Kay was Ayesha. Ayesha wore a loose red sweater that looked home knit. Ayesha smiled, waving as I came in. I tried not to seem disappointed.

"Cool scar," Ayesha said, pointing to the new ridge on my cheek, "Get that shaving?"

"He doesn't need to shave," Hunter joked. Kay smiled, a half drunk chocolate milk shake in front of her.

"Hey, what's up?" she said, "I was waiting when these guys showed up. What kept you?" So maybe it was supposed to be a date. I slid into the booth next to her, trying not to be a nerd.

"Would you believe it was Shakespeare?" I said. She grinned, a soft elbow to my side.

A portrait of Frank Sinatra crooned down over us from the wall.

"Hungry?" she asked. Food was set out in the middle of the table, a couple of deep dish pizzas with slices missing.

"Yeah," I took a slice of deep dish and chomped in. Tasted like tomato and dough, but I slurped it down. I'd finished my second slice before anyone could start to talk.

"You here about the brawl last night?" Rufus said, "There's weird stories going on about it. Something about a guy throwing people around without touching them, like a psychic or something."

"Oh please," Ayesha said. The door jingled, a guy in a long thick winter coat stepped in. My skin prickled. He had a raw, boney face and a swollen pink nose, eyes looking about with a pinkish tinge. "That's some anime nonsense. People have been telling stories all week."

"You hear the one about the shark-man on the docks?" Hunter said, lips smacking as he ate, "They say he ate a kid. Chowed him down faster than Eric did that slice."

"It's all bullshit," said Zeke, "Just stories because of the explosion."

"Excuse me," Ayesha slid out from the table, going to the counter.

I wasn't listening. My attention was on the man in the coat, now by the jukebox, fumbling with the buttons.

"You ok?" Kay asked, "Sorry about these guys."

"Yeah," I said, still watching the guy in the coat. A server came up to him.

"Excuse me sir," the server said, "If you could just..." But the server's eyes widened and she stepped back.

A shotgun rose up out of the coat. "The register," he said, "Everything in the goddamn register."

He fired a shot off into the air and a scream rose up from some place as we ducked our heads. People ran for the door.

'Oh God, oh God!' Kay squeaked beside me. Then I noticed Ayesha backed up into the counter, between the man and the register, trembling, bottom lip wobbling in terror. He grabbed her arm and shoved the shotgun under her ribs.

"Anyone try anything, I blow her guts over your nice seats, got that?" he pulled her close and Ayesha closed her eyes, shaking hard, her glasses askew.

He scooped up cash into his coat pocket. Someone ran for the door. He let off a shot overhead and Ayesha screamed, clutching her ears. The customers broke, running for their lives out any possible exit. He held Ayesha close, a human shield as he started crab walking to the door, hot barrel of his shotgun pressed behind her ear.

"No, God, no," Kay sobbed, curled up under the table. Hunter and the others had ran away. It was pretty much just the staff left, plaster falling in crumbs from the holes he'd left in the cieling.

>grab Kay and get out of here
>step up and do something

hope you liked that hot dump of Shakespeare

sorry about the typos

>>4538044
>step up and do something
We've got our disguise, fuck this guy

>>4538044
>step up and do something
Are we gonna have a Justice League type thing going on? Can't wait!

>>4538044
>step up and do something
Kay's safe there under the table right?

We should reassure Kay first, she's losing her shit

>>4538072
+1 to this though >>4538079

>>4538086
>>4538079
>>4538072
>>4538059
>>4538050
locked in

I ducked under the table. "Kay, Kay are you-"

She stared at me from over the collar of her sweater, shivering like a frightened woodland critter.

"It'll be ok" I said, trying to reassure her with my voice, with my eyes, "It'll all be ok."

She nodded, her large eyes welling with tears. A harsh swear turned my head.

Ayesha was shaking, paralyzed in the robber's grip. He sneered from her to the door, dragging her with his shotgun in one hand, face turning pink with rage and fear. Would the cops be here soon? I didn't know and I didn't want to wait.

"Move you little bitch!" he said, pressing the barrel into her neck, "I'll cut your damn head off if you don't move those feet."

I'm sorry," she hiccupped shuffling her feet, trying to move. The fire in me roared with a crackle as I ducked into the toilets, door swinging behind me. I zipped open my bag, snapped on the shiny ski-goggles, pulled on the hoodie, and wound the scarf around my mouth. I tossed the bag into an empty stall and ran to the door.

My legs were shaking, my body humming, the power a second pulse under my skin. I was prickled over with its heat.

If I screwed this up people, my classmates, my friends, could die.

If I did nothing they could still die.

I swallowed my hesitation, and with a single backward step, leapt through the swinging washroom door, bounding out to land on a booth table in a crash of plates and cutlery, dropping into a squat on the tabletop.

The robber swung to face me, his shotgun raised, Ayesha pulled close to his side.

"Who the hell are you?"

My attention was so caught on the mouth of the shotgun barrel I thought the gun itself had asked.

White light flared around my feet. A name sprang to my lips without thinking.

"Me?" I said, "I'm Hotspur."

Then throwing away my fear, uncoiling from my crouch, I leapt.

>roll 3 x 1d100 + 20 dc 75

Rolled 70 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4538116

Rolled 43 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4538116

Rolled 11 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>4538116

>>4538122
Success

The shotgun blast tore through the wall where I'd been squatting, but I was already arcing overhead, hanging for a moment above the robber, looking down at the top of his building head, Ayesha held tight to his side as I tumbled over to land behind them. Smoke rose from the gun barrel and from the foot prionts on the spot I'd launch off.

I tried to say something smart to cool my own nerves.

"Seriously, robbing a pizza joint in the middle of the day?" I said. He turned, hugging Ayesha, keeping her as a shield, swinging his shotgun around. He smelled bad, he smelled like street living and desperate days. "It's a hell of a way to get bus fare!"

I leapt, kicking him in the chest. He crashed back against a table, but his grip hadn't let up on Ayesha. He aimed the gun over her shoulder and in one hand let it off. But I jumped, landing 'on' the ceiling, the power in me defying the laws of physics as I took a running jump 'off' the cieling, and kicked his head back into the table's edge. My foot slid off his dome and for a second I thought I'd fall, but I turned it into an artful spin and landed on my hand and feet.

Drool hung from his lip, eyes dazed. But the dude was on something, eyes flared pink, body pushed beyond its normal limit. He raised his shotgun again, but this time there was a flash of white teeth. Ayesha bit the wrist of his gun hand, blood spurting from the skin. The shotgun went off wild, murdering a poor booth seat some where to my left.

"That's enough of that!" I whipped my fist forward, throwing my body into it, and clocked him hard in the temple.

The lights went out in junky town and he slumped to the side, his grip on Ayesha easing. She pulled out from his clutches and stumbled into me, grabbed me and hugged me hard, shaking.

"Thank you," she sobbed, "Thank you Hotspur."

I had my arms up over her, looking down where she hugged me around the chest, body thumping hard with power and the warm feeling of a pretty girl pressed against me.

"Uh..." I said, moronic in the moment. I carefully untangled myself as police sirens started to blare through Down Town. "That's my cue to leave!" I said, pulling out from her hug. I ran for the door.

"You're my hero!" Ayesha called as the bell rang above my head, speed picking up as I ran. A crowd had built up outside, and one good leap got me over their heads and leaving their gaping mouths far behind, the cold Fall wind whipping around me as I bounded out into the city.

>>4538143
Friendly neighborhood hotspur?

By the time I got back the cops had the robber cuffed, forcing him into the back of a squad car. I'd stowed my gear up behind a trash can at the back of an alley where no one could see. I was groaning with hunger but tried not to let it show, my body humming with the afterglow of an adrenaline rush.

Out the front Kay was sobbing in Ayesha's arms, fanning herself as she tried to give a cop a witness statement.

"It was just so fast," she said, face bunched up and pink, "I didn't even know what was going on until...until..."

"And the other guy, the one who stopped him," the cop said, "Did you see him enter? When did he show up."

"No, I was...I hid under a table I didn't see..."

"It's alright. What about you kid?" he turned his questions to Ayesha, "Did you see this uh..." he checked his notes, "this 'Hotspur' enter the shop?"

"I was a bit busy with a shotgun in my face," she snapped, her focus more on Kay, "Why are you asking questions about him? He caught the bad guy, he saved my life while you were busy getting donuts."

The cop's posture changed, his note book closing and a hand moving to his belt, near his gun without it being illegal.

"Oh yeah, you're real tough," Ayesha said, cheeks still wet with tears, "Now the action's over you're a real tough guy."

"Ayesha," Kay said, pulling at her friend's sweater, "Cut it out."

Ayesha gave the cop an ugly look. "Whatever," she said as the cop went to talk to one of the kitchen staff. She hugged Kay close, walking away from the police tape. That's about when they saw me.

"Thank God you're ok," Ayesha said. They both sagged with relief.

"Sorry I ran," I said.

She gave a cool smile. "It's cool man, protect ya neck." But Kay was still crying.

"You ok?" I asked. Kay nodded but it wasn't convincing.

Behind us came Hunter's voice. "That was fuckin' wild!"

Rufus and Zeke were with him. "Nobody got hurt, right?" Zeke asked.

"No, everyone's fine," Ayesha said, "Thanks to Hotspur."

"Who?" Hunter asked.

"He's a...um...he's," Ayesha pulled her sweater up over her mouth, face scrunched up and blushing. I made a soft sound in the back of my throat, squirming awkwardly.

"Some kind of super hero," Kay said, "He sprung out of no where. He saved us."

"Then he just...took off," Ayesha said, "Disappeared into the sky."

"Maybe he heard a cat up a tree needed rescuing," Hunter said.

It was while Ayesha gushed over this mysterious 'Hotspur' that I got a text.

Kemal - dude, you want to come to a senior party? y/n

The party. in all the action I'd forgotten about it.

I looked to the others. Kay was still in a state, Ayesha squeezing her in comfort. Hunter was starting to look board, scratching ihs belly for something else to do.

>text back a y
>text back a n

I hope you guys don't mind the name being pre-set

>>4538157
>text back a n
Kay must have some suspicions about us unless she was freaking out too much to pay any attention us going into the bathroom, hotspur leaving and running off, and then us never coming back out of the bathroom. Let's make sure she's okay, if she doesn't realize we were hotspur then it just looks like we ditched her completely.

>>4538157
>text back a y
The world is a big place - let's see if we can't invite our new friends along with us to take their mind off things
>>4538159
Not at all! hotspur is a great name :)

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4538162
>>4538164
flipping a coin

1 is y
2 is n

>>4538224
okay

I think I'll take a break there and open the next session with the winning vote.

hope you guys are enjoying this quest. oc cape stuff is pretty niche so I appreciate the guys sticking with it. hopefully we can get to some pretty exciting places soon.

well i can already tell there's gonna be trouble at the party cause lately mc have been in a lot of situations where there's trouble

which is good if we want to do more hero stuff
we also need a better costume
now that we got a name

just like spider man we'll create our own costume
wonder if we have more abilities besides super strength and good hops like izuku midoriya

Oh boy those typos.

Me - Y. is it cool if I bring some friends?

Kemal - All good homie. The more the merrrier!

I put down my phone. "You guys want to go to a party?" I asked, "Could help take our minds off this stuff."

The crowd was starting to break up, the excitement over. Now it was mostly just us hanging out the front of the police taped pizza parlor. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I was still thrumming with the after shock of it all. The fear and adrenaline was gone, the hunger had set in and I was feeling the good kind of weak, with a sharper clarity than usual.

"It's a senior thing. My friend Kemal is throwing it," I said.

"The Arab guy?" Hunter said.

"Sounds good," said Zeke. We looked to the girls. Kay sniffed, and after another reassuring squeeze from Ayesha, nodded.

Kemal sent me the address, a house on the north side, and Hunter ordered an uber. We waited in the chill afternoon, the city getting back to normal like nothing strange had happened. By Chicago standards maybe nothing had. When the uber came we all squeezed into the back seat. There was more of us than was legal but the driver didn't care, and I didn't mind having Kay pressed so close to my hip. The driver passed out free water and a pack of skittles. I'd popped the bag and downed half the packet before thinking about it.

Hunter made horking pig noises. It got a giggle out of the others.

"Sorry," I said, handing the pack over.

"You got that post-terror hunger," Rufus said, rolling a couple in his mouth.

"Me, I can't even think about food," Zeke said.

I pressed my cheek to the window, watching the street lights whip by, embarrassed and trying to forget it. I closed my eyes, and could feel myself like I had back there, leaping into the sky, the staring faces under me as I whistled overhead, bounding down the street with one impossible leap. That feeling of my body freed from the clutch of gravity, my fear dropping out under me as a sweeping joy took hold.

Getting shot at was scary, but that? My hands were shaking in my pockets. That had been amazing. Together it had been a rush like I'd never felt, life itself reduced to a microsecond reaction, me against him with the safety of my friends between us.

I didn't know enough about morality, philosophy or whatever else to explain it or justify it. But I'd liked it, and not just because of the cocktail of fear and adrenaline that had washed through me. It felt good to know I'd kept them from being hurt. That I'd done something right.

"You think there'll be beer?" Hunter asked.

"It's a senior party, they'll probably have a keg," Zeke said.

"I could do with something harder," Rufus said.

We rolled up on a suburban house, two storys, with a low bass beat pumping out the windows. A couple of older kids were out on the lawn drinking. We got out. Hunter slipped the uber driver a ten.

We looked at each other feeling kind of nervous. I'd never been to a big party like this before. Maybe the others had, Hunter seemed relaxed.

"You good?" I asked Kay.

"I think so," she said with a weak smile.

"Well then what are we waiting for?" Ayesha said, taking her by the hand.

Inside were a bunch of seniors, sitting around drinking, bass thumping from a set of speakers. I didn't recognize anyone, but Rufus waved at one of the black girls, strutting over while Zeke snooped around. They had a pool out the back. It'd have to be heated to be worth swimming in this weather.

"Yo!" Kemal's voice boomed over the speakers. He skipped down the stairs to the upper floor, grinning, a beer in hand. He punched me in the chest, forced a beer in my hand. Then he said "Wait, do you drink?" and took the beer back. He wasn't all that sober. His drowsy dark eyes moved past me to my friends."Hey, Eponine, wassup?" he said to Kay.

She tucked a lick of hair back behind her ear. "Hey Kemal," she said with a thin smile.

"You guys look like you've been through some shit, what happened?" he asked, chugging the beer.

"There was a hold up at the pizza joint we were at," Ayesha said. She trembled a little. "But it's all ok. We're fine."

"Oh shit, that's a story," he said, going to the couch, "Spill the beans. Which joint was it?"

"Fransisco's," Ayesha said, popping down on the arm of the couch, "You know the one down in the Loop?"

Kemal bobbed his head along as the story started.

There was a case of beer open on the table, and a bottle of soda with a couple of cups. First I grabbed a handful of candies and scarfed them down.

I'd been drunk a whopping total of once in my life, the day before we'd left home for Chicago. My friends had swiped a bottle of whiskey from a drink cabinet and we'd split it in the woods behind my house, a goodbye drink playing like we were adults. We'd ended up puking so bad we thought we'd die.

>drink a beer, cut loose
>stick to soda pop, stay sober

>>4539035
>stick to soda pop, stay sober
Not now, not ever. Don't want to be like our father in that aspect.

>>4539035
>stick to soda pop, stay sober
fuck that shit

>>4539057
Agreed, rabid consumption of non-addictive foodstuffs on the other hand is a priority, gotta have our tank full, just in case

>>4539097
>>4539074
>>4539057
locked it in

Thoughts of Dad at the kitchen table, sitting in filth with a can of Blue Ribbon in his hand, had me pass over the beer. And I didn't want to deal with puke and a hang over anyway. I poured myself a cup of pop, some off-brand coke. Tastes about the same anyway.

There were a couple of Papa Johns pizzas on the table, free to eat. I devoured one of them in between chugging back pop, finally stopping myself after a heavy belch that caught some ugly looks from strangers.

Looking around I spotted Brian from detention with an Asian guy playing beer pong, a small crowd around them. There was a splash outside and a playful scream as partygoers found the pool.

We weren't the only juniors here. Ivy swished by with a bottle of vodka, a couple of shot glasses clutched in her fingers. When our eyes met for a second I saw her disgust, before a friend dragged her away. Whatever her problem was it was none of mine.

I moseyed back over to the others, Ayesha playing out the robbery, even miming shotgun blasts with added sound effects.

"Boom, boom!" she said, swinging around a cup of vodka and soda, her face already shiny, "I thought I was going to die, but then Hotspur came in-"

"The super hero," Kemal said.

"Yeah yeah," Ayesha said, nodding, "He leapt in saying all kinds of funny stuff. He said something, oh man I'll mess it up but it was like 'Who are you supposed to be, the pizza-burglar?' and then kicked him in the head."

Dammit, I thought, that was a better line than what I actually said. I hid my sour look behind a sip while Kemal laughed, clapping.

"Nice," he said, "He sounds like a badass."

"You think Hotspur is a brother?" Ayesha asked, "He was all covered up."

"No way is he a brother," Rufus said, cuddled up with a girl.

"Why's that?" Ayesha asked.

"Only a white guy thinks punchin' a crook in the head is doing some good," he said, his attention more on the girl then what he was saying.

"Boo, boo to that, no way. A brother can throw hands," Ayesha said, hiccuping, "But whatever he is," a drunk-tinged grin grew across her face, "I bet he's cute."

I blushed, shoving my face in my cup, or my cup in my face.

"Sounds like someone's in love," Kay teased.

Ayesha's face went hot and she squirmed. "Oh shut up!" she said with a grin, looking up at the ceiling. "So...so anyway back to the story. So he, Hotspur, kicks the guy in the head and we go down. The guy's still holding me y'know, so we both hit the ground. God my heart was beating so hard. And then the gun came up and I thought 'no, I've got to do something' so I bit his wrist and-"

"Can we stop please?" Kay said, hugging her knees, "Just stop talking about it. I just...really want us to stop." Tears started building in her eyes again.

"Oh man, I'm sorry Kay," Ayesha said, slipping down to hug her friend, "You alright? Is it your anxiety?"

Kay nodded, sniffing, eyes pink and glassy. "I'm sorry let's just talk about something else ok?" she said, taking a long sip of her beer.

"Bet," Ayesha said, wrapping her arms around her shoulder.

"Hey Kemal, ain't you a Muslim?" Rufus asked as Kemal opened another bottle of beer.

"Yeah," he said, snorting as he took a drink.

I refilled my cup, hunger settling.

"How about you, Eric?" Kemal asked, "You doing good?"

I swallowed.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Of course he's fine," Hunter laughed, "He was out of there so fast we didn't even see him go! If you can move like that on the court we have this season in the back." Zeke and Rufus both snickered along with him.

"What about you, Hunter," a voice from behind me and I turned. Ivy stood with a shot of clear vodka, a look of hot girl contempt on her face. "I bet you were rock solid and stood your ground. A real badass."

He dried up under her glare. She tipped her head back, swallowing the shot. "That's what I thought," she said, "What'd you say this guy's name was again?" she fired at Ayesha.

"Hotspur," Ayesha replied, "But we're done talking about that, ok?"

"Huh," Ivy said. That's all she said, but then she glanced at me, and my skin prickled and my heart stopped. Did she know, was I that transparent? I froze up, staring at her. "Whatever, losers," she said, "If you're done crying I'll be in the pool." And she walked away, her spell broken, leaving me to sag with uncertainty.

"What's her problem?" Ayesha snapped.

"Ivy? Nah, she's just..." but Kemal couldn't do much but shrug.

"A bitch?" Zeke suggested, getting a laugh.

Whatever that look from Ivy had meant, it left me shook.

>I think I should go
>stick around the party a while longer.

>>4539203
>back
bag

I should probably write this up in something with a spell and grammar check before posting.

>>4539203
>I think I should go
Seems like Kay isn't into it

>>4539203
>stick around the party a while longer.
I kinda wanna romance Ivy. She seems like a cool person - plus, I got a thing for Tsunderes myself

>>4539203
>stick around the party a while longer.
Try to get Kay into some party games. Bouncing after that might be a giveaway.

sorry, had some computer problems.

>>4539382
>>4539293
locking in

might be a while before the next update though

because of some really stupid things going on I'll have to post pone the next update

sorry

>>4539571
No worries, real life takes priority. Thanks for running!

>>4539571
No worries Bully, it's worth the wait. I just got caught up with the story. :)

>>4539203
>stick around the party a while longer.
>Hang with Ivy and Kay, make sure nothing bad happens to them
I telling you guys bad shit has been happening alot lately around eric

The others all split off to do other things. I set my own worries aside and slid onto the couch next to Kay.

"Hey, you doing alright?" I asked.

She blew into the top of her bottle of pre-mix, candy cane alcohol. "Yeah, I think I'll...sorry for being such a wimp," she said, "You don't have to babysit me if you want to have fun." She looked sorry too, beating herself up inside.

"We've all had enough fun for one day," I said.

"I know Hunter made a crack about you running away, but its...its ok that you did, Eric," she said, "I don't think it makes you a coward. Heck I was too scared to even run. You saw me hiding under the table. I'm so stupid."

She looked ready to beat herself up again. I wasn't going to let that happen.

The party vibed around us. It wasn't wild but there was an energy in the air that cracked. The bass thumped the air. The beer pong table burst into cheers as a senior downed a beer. Being sober it was more a headache than fun. I got up and gave Kay my hand.

"Let's find some place quieter," I said.

"Oh, sure," she said, taking it with a warm squeeze.

We looked for a spot to find a place to talk and ended up on the second story, on a balcony looking out over the pool. We weren't 'alone' alone, there were a couple of others up there, but they stuck to a dark corner not paying us any mind. A splash from down beneath us and I saw Zeke bobbing in the pool, Kemal a step behind him, shouting 'cannonball!' as he leapt in. Water errupted in a great splash, wetting the girls lounging on the edge. They shrieked in playful annoyance as Kemal spluttered water.

It occured to me I didn't know whose house this was. "Do you think we'll get in trouble for being here?" I asked.

Kay grinned. "If we do it isn't the worst trouble we've been in today," she said, leaning on the railing. She turned wistful, looking up to the starry sky. "I've never been so close to dying before today," she said, "It really makes you think."

"Yeah?" I said.

"Yeah, mostly 'Oh God, oh God, I don't want to die'," her nose crinkled in amusement. I smiled at the dark joke. She took a long sip.

"It just makes everything seem so fake right now. Are we really doing this party stuff, just throwing our time away when it can all get snatched from us at any second?" she said, "It makes me think about my parents. God, they're such phoneys. Acting all lovey-dovey in front of us but arguing behind closed doors. Why waste all that time playing a game you don't even like when it's all just...all so short."

She looked up at the sky and I thought she was going to cry again.

"You know all those stars up there?" she said, "They're all dead. They've been dead for millions of years. All we're seeing is their...their ghosts. And if there's life out there looking at our star its the same story. By the time they notice us we'll already be gone." Her face crinkled up and she dabbed tears from her cheek on the sleeve of her sweater. "Like that star there, what even lives there?"

"That's Mars," I said.

"Well...great. Even the planets are dead," she said. She gave me a look, like she was annoyed at being corrected. I think she was starting to slide into proper drunk territory. But then she thumped her head on my shoulder, sighed. I swallowed, a nervous clutch starting downstairs.

She really was pretty. Auburn hair with the slightest curl, playful freckles on her cheeks, and big green eyes I could drown in. My heart hummed, something I don't think hearts are supposed to do.

"Thanks, Eric. You're really good at listening," she said, "You're a good friend."

It was a splash of cold water. 'Good friend' was the last thing a guy wanted to hear.

>take it for what it was, a compliment
>screw being a friend, try to kiss her

>>4540475
>take it for what it was, a compliment
I think being still being able to see the stars after they're gone is a good thing. thinking about mom

>>4540475
>take it for what it was, a compliment

Wait is our mom dead or just in the hospital?

>>4540489
>>4540505
locked in

"Thanks," I said, swallowing the acid in my throat. She smiled, nestling against me in a way that didn't feel like friends.

"You know, the stars aren't really gone," I said, "They just...change. Either they grow so large their energy disperses out across the universe, riding the cosmic waves to the edge of infinity. Or they collapse into themselves, becoming black holes. Either way they become...miracles."

For a second I wasn't with her. It wasn't my voice I heard. I was on the back porch back home, outside and shivering in the gentle snow fall standing by her telescope, her gentle fingers guiding my eyes across the night sky, a brilliant display of stars stretching out over our heads running from horizon to horizon. An owl called its lonely hoot from the woods behind our house, the crackle of a fire popping in the fireplace inside.

I was six I think, or seven.

"It's an astounding miracle, our universe. It's so young yet so old, and it will keep growing and growing," she said, "Until it grows too big and then it'll become something else too, just like a star. And when it does we'll see for ourselves, but not with these eyes, not with these faces and names. People are like stars too. We change, and when we leave we aren't really gone. We become something new. Maybe we ride the cosmic wave to the edge of space. Wouldn't that be something?"

It was too cold to feel anything except her warm fingers on my cheek.

"You're my brilliant little star, Eric, my little miracle," she said. Her lips pressed on my forehead, a soft tender kiss.

Then I was back where I'd been, standing with Kay looking up at the stars, her cuddled against me, for warmth and comfort.

The moment was broken by the loud 'whoop' of a police siren. Someone downstairs yelled 'oh shit!' and kids started scrambling across the yard, laughing.

"Break it up now, break it up!" the bullfrog voice of a cop yelled from downstairs, "You all got parents to get back to! That better not be what I think it is kid. Someone turn off this music, it's trash, you kids listen to trash!"

Kay tensed but her fear was playful. "Oh my dad will kill me," she said, dropping the bottle. She took my hand. "We have to get out of here!" But she ran laughing, towing me behind, and I followed after laughing just as wild.

We got out of there and I don't remember how. Kids scattered into the bushes and into the street, the cops more annoyed as they hunted as with flashlights, but didn't bother running anyone down.

We ran down to the end of the street, stopping under a street light. Kay puffed a light mist, checking her auburn curls behind her ear. I leaned on the street light, grinning.

"Maybe we should call this the end of the night," she said, "I should get home. My parents are going to be worried sick by now."

"Yeah," I said, knowing Dad was probably just passed out on the couch.

"You really turned my night around," she said, tugging on my sleeve. She bit her bottom lip. "See you at school."

"See you there," I said, rubbing my throat. She grinned once more before skipping out into the night, right as Zeke and Kemal came running past, howling with laughter.

I shook my head. It was about time to turn in.

With streetlight for company I started the cold trek home.

brb taking a break