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Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest

There were times on a hot day like this, the heat rising off the cement streets of Chicago so thick it formed a shimmer in the air, that I thought I'd be doing the world a bigger favor going around punching oil executives in the throat instead of tailing my friend Zeke. Something to consider doing one day, when I wasn't so worried about Zeke's intentions. He'd fallen into a bad crowd.

It had started with the Committee of Community Vigilance, the voice of the average person concerned by the deadly rise of the 'parafreaks'. And to give them some credit, they had good reason to be concerned. I'd seen what out of control monsters like the Ooze could do, with half digested corpses floating through his gelatinous guts. But then along came the Humanity First movement and their 'militia'. Gun totting thugs harassing children, throwing bombs through front room windows, getting more and more extreme with each unpunished act of violence until an even more radical group, the Patriots, had emerged.

I don't know where exactly Zeke fell on the spectrum of anti-para hate, but last I'd seen him he'd been attending the baby fascist boot camp, 'The Guardians'. Like the Scouts but with pipe bombs. Now he'd wandered off talking weird shit about how 'sorry' he was. The guilt of bad intentions. Hopefully enough guilt not to go through with it.

He booked out of the water park, double strapping his backpack as he hunched forward, skulking his way through the crowd. He was wearing a hoodie even in this mid-summer heat.

Following him in just board shorts probably wasn't going to work. I pulled on a shirt, quickly wetting it through, but at least it hid my scarred up chest. If I'm being honest I wasn't comfortable going around without a shirt, those white mutilating scars there for everyone to see. Playing hero left its mark, and the marks weren't pleasant.

Zeke got out his phone, looked at something, then put it away. He hadn't notice me follow him out. Chicago in summer got crowded. With school out, tourists from all over poured in, and it was a hot enough a lot of people were headed for the lake. It helped give me some cover at least, though it made following Zeke on foot no picnic either, shoving my way through the wide load of a few midwesterner tourists in with their wide kids 'looking for the bean'.

I'd told Ayesha and Ivy what I was up to before heading out but otherwise I was alone. My focus was fixed on Zeke's hunched shoulders.
-
>rolling skill checks is a best of three 1d100 roll, rolling over a DC with bonuses or minuses based on competing factors

>roll 3 x 1d100 + 20 dc 60
>>
starting with a roll for the first post back was probably a bad idea
>>
Rolled 90 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901
Sorry I'm a bit late
>>
>>6080917
barring a roll of 1 that's a full success
>>
Rolled 35 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901

LETS GO!!
>>
I really don't mind players rolling again rather than being stuck waiting
>>
Rolled 15 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6080901
The Cape goat has returned!
>>
>>6080917
full success!
>>
He was moving toward an L station. I kept pace. It's not like Zeke was a hard guy to tail. A couple of guys cut me off, blocking my way into the platform.

"-and get this. Finally she says Napperville."

"Oh man, hate that shit."

I duck around them, taking steps two at a time to keep from losing sight of Zeke.

A carriage pulls up on the Orange Line and he gets on. I get on the next carriage down. Neither are full, but there are enough people on I'm not sticking out like an idiot in my damp clothes. The hot day had dried them off some, but I'd still clearly been in the water. I sit, and even if I can't keep an eye on him, draw on my fire to boost my hearing.

The fire inside me flickered to life, the white heat spreading from my chest through my body. Every sound around me grew sharper, til even the pulse of the woman across from me seemed to drum to the same beat as the bounce of the carriage on the tracks. I block that out though, focus it.

Do I know Zeke by breathing alone? Of course I don't. But he mutters, 'what the fuck am I doing?' just under his breath. That's enough of a tag. I got him. We sit, him in his carriage, me in mine, and we go a while before he gets off, almost to the end of the line. Got to get off quick if I'm going to follow, its only luck keeps him from spotting me.

What the hell are you up to Zeke? Pulaski street and Zeke didn't look comfortable around here, whether because it was too far south of the Loop than he was comfortable going, or because of who he was going to meet.

We get out of the station and there's a car waiting, a beat up old piece of shit with two guys standing out the front. I recognized one of them.

Jeremy Kusich was as smug as ever and just as toad like, maybe even more so, his pallid and spotty skin and too large throat. He'd grown his hair out and wore dark aviators above his smug amphibian grin. With him was a clean cut looking black guy in blue jeans and a tucked in black shirt, his moustache clipped and neat.

I was a fair distance but could hear them fine. Not a lot of traffic around to obscure their voices.

"Onward mankind's soldier, marching off to war," Jeremy sang. I noticed the change in lyrics, "You ready for this?"

Zeke didn't say anything. He unslung his backpack and Jeremy flinched.

"Careful with that," he said, nerves creeping into his voice, "We're not going full towel head here."

My skin went numb. Holy shit. My worst guess seemed right. Zeke was carrying a bomb.

"Kid, shut the fuck up," the black man said. Even these guys had nothing but contempt for Jeremy. "You know the plan. I drop you off. You drop the bag. You walk, don't run, three blocks to where we'll pick you up."

"Yeah, yeah, walk don't run," Zeke said.

The black guy didn't seem certain about Zeke either.

What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Zeke?

>I need to intervene now, before something goes wrong
>follow them a little longer, figure out their target first
>write-in
>>
>>6081016
>I need to intervene now, before something goes wrong
Keep it away from people
>>
>>6081016
>follow them a little longer, figure out their target first.

Humanity first has help from blacksite agency's in covering up their crimes. If we apprehend them before they do anything, they'll be able to brush this under rug and try again later. We need to catch them directly in the act if we want these toadies behind bars.
>>
>>6080901
Uooooohhhhh it's back!
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

I'm going to flip a coin/roll 1d2

1 is intervene now

2 is follow a little longer
>>
A bomb. He was carrying a fucking bomb. And one they were planning to use.

But where and how? I needed to know more, dangerous as it was. Whatever Zeke had got himself caught up in, I knew how ruthless Humanity First could be. They'd staged a para attack on their own youth camp, and spun it into a wave of anti-parafolk hostility. I needed to know just what this was all about.

So when Zeke got into the back of the car, I ducked behind a dumpster. I didn't have my costume on me, but maybe I could old school this.

Rutting around in the garbage, some old tarp made a pretty bad mask, a stinking, filthy mask wrapped around my head with the rest worn poncho style, but I needed to move to keep up with them and I didn't need some jagoff with a phone to snap my bare face leaping from building to building.

Face covered enough, I jumped to the roof of the building, scattering pigeons where I landed, then started after the beat up old second hand car, bouncing from roof top to roof top with the agility of a human flea.

People don't really look up. It's what had saved me more than once. That and convenient billboards. I startled a couple of guys killing their afternoon with some roof beers but didn't look back as I bounced through. If they had a story tell about Hotspur dressed in hobo chic it wouldn't be the strangest story told about me.

They turned off Pulaski road and hit some residentials. Strangely that was easier for me most days. A bang on the roof people might just put down to an adventurous raccoon. I tried listening in to what they might be talking about, but the driver had cranked up the music, hard bass hurting my ears as he played a club track. I don't think they talked much anyway. They'd said what they needed to say.

I got a sense where they were going before they got there. Marquette Park. With a lot of people in it. A lot of people with placards and signs, shouting at each other through a screen of cops. Two crowds of pro and anti parafolk facing off. It was becoming a more common occurrence every week, it didn't help the anti side had been steadily growing from a smaller group to one about the same size. The car stopped away off and Zeke hopped out. The car hooked a u-turn and drove away slow.

Don't do it, I thought, watching Zeke from a rooftop crouched gargoyle like on its shingles. He slouched toward the park, adjusting his straps, looking way uncomfortable.

How many people were currently screaming at each other on the park green on a scorching hot summer day? Had to be hundreds.

Don't fucking do this.

Zeke paused about half way toward the protestors. He looked sick, looked like he might vomit.

That's right Zeke, that's right. Think about what you're doing.

He shook his head and swallowed, started forward again.

Christ. He was going to do it.

He slipped off the strap of his backpack. He looked woozy as he grabbed the other strap.

He was going to fucking do it.

>go, now!
>wait just a second longer...
>>
>>6081101
>Go!
>>
>>6081101
>Go, now!
Ho-leeee, now that's a blast from the past! Glad to have you back Bullpen!
>>
>go, now!

Zeke you racist asshole!!!
>>
>>6081101
>go, now!
>>
>>6080901
HOLY JESUS!
I thought this was dead for sure.
So glad it's back, such a fantastic quest.
>>
File: Go_small.png (17 KB, 600x222)
17 KB
17 KB PNG
>>6081101
>>
>>6081249
>>6081213
>>6081190
>>6081165
>>6081112
>go, now!

ok, writing it up, give me one second
>>
There was no time to be delicate about this. I sprung from the rooftop leaving burning white foot prints behind me, hurtling towards Zeke. The distance between us blurred as I closed, Zeke's face turning a white shade of terrified as he looked up, his bag half off.

"Don't do it!"

I reached for the bag.

He pulled it to his chest.
-

>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 50

sorry for taking so long with getting this tiny update up, had issues with my dog
>>
Rolled 71 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649
Come on baby... Big money, BIG MONEY
>>
Rolled 77 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649
>>
barring a crit fail, this is looking good
>>
Rolled 67 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6081649
giga chad Hotspur time incoming.
>>
>>6081659
a smooth pass
>>
I wrenched the bag from Zeke's grip. There wasn't much he could do to stop me but shout a lame 'hey!' I spun, pumped up full of the white hot fire, and flung the bag as hard and as high as I could. The bag straps made the twin tails of the saddest looking comet as the bag hurtled upward until it was a pin prick on the blue sky.

Then a distant puff left a small dark stain on the sky. Whatever shrapnel left would rain harmlessly down on nothing.

"Won't...won't the height of the explosion still hurt people?" Zeke said, "You know, falling shrapnel. Velocity an' shit."

I gave him a look that said 'go back to math class' and smacked him upside the head. "Wind resistance," I said. Thank you, Dane, for the tutoring.

People didn't really look up, and the protestors were so transfixed by each other they didn't even notice the potentially deadly explosion detonate far above their heads. Marquette Park and its occupants were safe, for the time being.

Zeke now at least, seemed to realize what he'd almost done. He fell into a crouch, gave a little 'oh God' followed by a sick little 'hurk', then hot bile came rushing out of his mouth to splat across the sidewalk.

Yeah, you stupid piece of shit. Feel it.

When he was done vomiting he grabbed his knees and started to cry. Hiccupping sobs that did more to make me angry than feel sorry for him.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't know why I..."

Considering the timing of the explosion I wasn't sure he'd have had time to feel anything. His friends in the Humanity First movement probably hadn't meant for him to walk away alive.

"Are you...are you going to turn me into the cops?"

He looked up at me. Snot ran down from his nostrils, his eyes had turned rheumy, his face pale and red blotched. Zeke looked like his whole world had crashed to an end, and maybe it had. Maybe it deserved to. I'd seen enough of what happened to the human body when hot pieces of metal tore it apart. I'd seen enough of families left to figure out how to go on after losing someone like that. The absurd, surreal change to their lives. Their world ripped apart by a stranger's act of malice.

No one had died yet today, but did that matter?

"Please," he whimpered. Pity and loathing both rose inside me, as did the righteous hum of the white hot fire. What did he deserve?

>Turn Zeke into the police
>Let him go, for now
>Write-in
>>
>>6081689
>Turn Zeke into the police
He would've done it.
>>
>>6081689
>Write-in
>"You better go to your fucking home and stay low. I'll go and talk to you later, don't say nothing to anyone and don't answer if your bosses call you, and if they know where you live or your parent are into it, then go to another safe place that you know, I'll text you later"

We don't know how corrupt the police are, so maybe they'll suicide Zeke while on custody. Right know we could use him to file a case against those sick fucks with Zeke recorded testimony, what we saw on the camp massacre, and if we get to contact with the cat lady and convince her to give us some of the photos she took. Hell, if we convince the techno brat, we could make a really secure page to leak all of these stuff
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

six hours later and its still a tied vote (of two)

I like this write in but I feel bad about needing to do another coin flip. Still, no exceptions.

1. is turn Zeke in to the cops now
2. is the write in
>>
the write in wins! putting it together now
>>
My fist rocked his cheek, knocking him over. It had no force in it, not even without my powers, but it was enough to wipe the self-pity off his face. Staring up at me in shock, I loomed over him in my hobo costume, pumped with such fury I didn't try to keep my tone civil. It was baking hot beneath the tarp, but right now I didn't care.

"You better go to your fucking home and stay low. I'll go and talk to you later, don't say nothing to anyone and don't answer if your bosses call you, and if they know where you live or your parent are into it, then go to another safe place that you know, I'll text you later."

"Wh-what?" he said.

"You deserve to go to prison," I said, "You deserve...a lot of bad things. But all you'd get being turned into the cops is Epsteined. They'd find you hanging in a jail cell and call it suicide."

"Hotspur, dude, do you really think-" he said before stopping himself, "Of course they fucking will. Shit, shit!" He started punching himself in the head. "My dad, my dad works in the Governor's office and my Mom, she's part of the CCV. What the fuck was I thinking?"

"So where the hell are you going to go then?" I said, "I mean to bring down those sick fucks in the Humanity First militia. You're going to help me do it. Whether legally or some other way, I don't care. You're doing it."

"But-"

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Don't test me," I said. Any friendship I felt for Zeke was currently in the gutter. "Now do you have anywhere safe to stay, or do I have to find somewhere for you?"

He couldn't look me in the eye. He stared down at his shoes.

"My friend Ayesha maybe," he said, "She might. She's helped out other people."

My blood ran cold at her name.

"Does that sound smart to you?" I said with a firm shake of his shirt.

"Maybe my uncle in Cicero. He...he doesn't talk to my dad. Not since I was little."

An uncle in Cicero. It was better than Ayesha, but not exactly secure.

"How are you going to contact me?" he said.

"On a phone, idiot," I replied. I had my back up phone, the good old Hotspur hotline courtesy of Ms Grant, exactly for this.

"Shit, Jeremy and Hudson are still waiting for me," Zeke said, and he started to cry for the helplessness of it all. "What do I do, dude? I don't know what to do!" His face crumpled up. He tried hugging me.

>take him to his uncle in Cicero
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
>maybe Ayesha's place wasn't a 100% bad idea
>write-in
>>
>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
>>
>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
>>
>>6081855
>arrange something for him, maybe through Ms Grant
Tell him that bomb was going to go off too early for him to survive, in case he's worried about leaving Jeremy and Hudson hanging
>>
>>6081855
Exfil with him ourself, but add the write in from >>6081997

Glad to have you back Bullpen, been waiting for so long, that this inspired me for several campaigns I have done myself.
>>
>>6081997
>>6081975
>>6081908
locking this in
>>
>>6080901
Holy shit you arent dead
>>
I pushed him back.

"I'll make a call," I said, "Find you somewhere to lay low. Then you're going to make up for what you tried to do today."

"I didn't mean it."

"Save it!" I said, "And if you're worried about your pals, believe me I doubt they're waiting. That bomb looked ready to go off way before you were out of range. And even if you did manage to walk away, a bullet to the back of the head is a good way to tie up any loose ends."

He looked as if he might vomit again.

The heat of the crowd was rising with the heat of the day. Bottles were being thrown, protestors were jostling the dividing line of the police trying to get at each other, shouting incoherent slogans across at each other, the only thing audible their rage. I grabbed Zeke by the collar and hustle him out of there.

I was sweating hard under the tarp and needed to get into some shade. Chicago wasn't meant to get this hot, and my make shift costume didn't help.

Made me wish those latex tight super hero costumes from the movies were real. One I could pop out of a convenient ring or belt buckle. Maybe I could talk to Remix or someone about making one. Save me having to scrap something together out of the blue.

I pushed him into a liquor store and was grateful for the cool kiss of AC.

The cashier didn't say much as I pushed Zeke in to the back of the store before getting on the Hotsput hotline to call Ms Grant. If anyone could help me here, it was her, and anything Zeke had to say could only help the both of us. We were partners in cleaning up the city.

This was too important for a text chain. I called her up.

"What have you got for me?" cool, professional, and already switched on. That's how Grant operated.

"An idiot ready to do some good," I said, "But the idiot is in danger. Needs a place to lay low."

Silence on the other end.

"Okay, meet me at-" she gave an address not far from here, up in Brighton Park. "See you soon."

I hung up, grabbed Zeke by the collar.

"We're going," I said. I walked him back outside. "Hold on tight and don't scream in my ear," I said.

"Wh-" Zeke started as I pulled him up for a piggy back ride. Too quick for words, I bounded out of there. Zeke sucked in a deep breath but to his credit, didn't scream as we went hurtling up in the air. Sometimes I wished I could actually fly, but we all have our limits and this was one of mine. I leapt across Marquette Park, landing first in a tree startling a squirrel, then my next leap took me across the rest of it smacking down hard on the roof of a parked car.
>>
If Zeke thought we were done he was sorely mistaken. I bounced out over columns of bumper to bumper traffic along Kedzie Avenue. Over family homes and warehouses.

We landed on the roof of a dollar store and that was where we waited. I didn't care how bad Zeke was sweating. It wasn't long before he asked for some water. I just gave him a hard glare.

"Can I call my parents at least?" he asked.

"You really think that's a good idea?" I said.

He wilted at that. He stared at nothing. I kept an eye out for Ms Grant. It went on for a while. He broke the silence with a dry cough.

"Can I tell you something?" he said. I didn't reply. He took it for an invitation. "There's this girl I...there's a girl." My skin prickled. "She's the best, y'know. She's always been the best. She...she got pulled into this parafreak stuff though. Started going to protests to stand up for their...for your kind." He gave me a guilty glance. "I mean, it was only a matter of time before it got her hurt. She just can't see that...how dangerous they are. Or...I'm not saying this right."

"I like her. I...I really...I love her," he said. He was crying again. "Since always I've been in love with her. You don't know, man. You don't know how much her smile hurts. Her laugh. Fuck! But there's this guy at school, this fucking asshole she's head over heels for. He's a real jerk, he's got her in this creepy threesome thing. He's going to hurt her, I just know it. He's going to talk her into weirder and weirder things and its all going to end in her getting hurt. It's like the parafr...parafolk stuff, she just can't see how bad it is for her."

"So you're doing this for a girl?" I said, throat tight with anger. "You think killing innocent people will get her attention?"

"No!" he spluttered, "No! I mean, maybe it might get her to stop and think but...but I don't know. Maybe I thought if she saw me make a stand for something she might...she might actually see me."

He wiped at his tears. "Shit, I'm a fucking cuck. None of this is coming out right."

I stared at him a minute. Tears in his eyes, he said, "I just want Ayesha to see me."

He couldn't have picked a worse way to do it. I clenched my jaw, fist balled up at my side. Not sure if I wanted to cuss him out or beat him down. Lucky for him a car pulled up beneath us, Ms Grant got out.

She wasn't alone.

With a hand on her waist, he helped her up to the rooftop with a touch of metallic assistance. Ironclad, the hero for hire, let her down from the metal disc they shared getting up. There'd been something intimate in the way he'd cupped her waist as he let her down.

I thought he'd left for New York. 'A less crowded market'. Seeing him with DSA Grant was the last thing I expected.
>>
"Ironclad," I said.

"Hotspur," he said, professionally respectful even if we personally didn't get along.

"Are you cheating on me, Maddy?" I asked, half-joking, "Here I thought we were exclusive."

She smirked. "Things have been hot in the city since the Council of Crime bust," she said, "Figured some added protection was needed."

"If that's the case I could find you someone a lot less mercenary," I said.

She snorted.

"Her money's good," Ironclad said, "So long as it stays good there's nothing in the world she has to fear." He was probably right. Unlike me Ironclad didn't hesitate to turn his enemies into hashtags. And though I give him grief for being mercenary I don't think he was the type to throw in with the cartels or the DPA, even for a steady paycheck. He'd have been doing that already if that was the case. Didn't mean I liked him though. He took a puff on a vape. I really didn't like him.

Was I jealous? Maybe a little.

"Is this the snitch?" she said, looking at Zeke, "Christ, he's just a baby. Humanity First must be desperate if they're recruiting kids."

Zeke stared at his shoes.

"He needs somewhere to lay low," I said, "You put Misfit up, can you do the same for him?"

She nodded. "So long as he cooperates," she said, "You said he was going to bomb a protest? That's serious stuff there. Terrorism is no joke. Even a failed bombing will get you a long sentence, and not in baby jail. You'd be going to big boy prison. They'd make a little snack out of you up in super max. What's your name?"

"Zeke," he said, "Ezekiel."

"Biblical," she said, "I'm Madeline Grant, DSA. My friends call me Maddy. You can call me Ms Grant. You're lucky Hotspur stopped you, you realize that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, staring at his shoes.

"So, say thank you," she said.

"Thank you," he mumbled.

"Thank you who?" she added.

"Thank you Hotspur," he said, glancing up from his shoes. I had to admit, I enjoyed his humiliation a little. Even Ms Grant was enjoying it. No one liked a teenage bomber.

Ironclad grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt. "Come on, Baby Bomber," he said. Zeke didn't look back at me as Ironclad took him down, giving me and Ms Grant the roof.

"How are you doing?" she asked, more personal than professional. I shrugged. "Remember what I said, about taking time for yourself."

"I'll do it when you do it."

She flashed a grin. "Don't worry about the kid, we'll take care of him."

I nodded. There were few people I trusted more than Ms Grant. Thinking on that though, maybe there was more I could do. Or maybe I should head back. My friends were waiting.

>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson
>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day
>>
>>6082324
>>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day
>>
>>6082324
>Ms Grant was right, I'd done enough for one day
If I remember right we had some TLC stuff to do.
>>
>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson
>>
>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson
We can't just let them give some other gullible kid a bomb.
>>
>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson

They were the ones who organized this, if they get away they'll try again.
>>
>>6082324
>Keep hunting, look for Jeremy and Hudson

I just want to get rid of Jeremy for good.
>>
>>6082355
>>6082356
>>6082370
>>6082415
>keep hunting for Jeremy and Hudson
>>
As much as nothing seemed better than kicking back at the water park with my friends, I couldn't sit back and do nothing while Jeremy and this guy Hudson were on the loose. I might have stopped Zeke from doing something horrific, but that didn't mean something horrific wasn't still bound to happen. For now I had to trust Ms Grant could take care of Zeke for me, but there was no one else who was going to catch his accomplices.

Bounding back to Marquette Park, as I got close my blood froze at the sight of smoke drifting up from the green lawn. Had they planned a contingency? I looked, listened, my horror mounting.

There were screams but it wasn't the blood curling screams of the dying. It was the pain and rage of a protest turned into a riot, with the police launching smoke grenades before wading in with the riot shields and APCs, going in gangs of threes to pepper spray and beat into custody anyone unlucky enough to get caught by them. In heavy vests and visored helmets, the cops must be sweating worse than I was. It only made them angrier, their nightsticks finding knees and wrists, coming down hard on collar bones, leaving broken protestors for their companions to scoop up and throw into the back of vans.

News cameras had arrived, frantic reporters breaking the news as if reporting from a warzone. I might have stopped a massacre, but nothing could stop this tide of anger. Not with a good left hook at least.

I could just imagine Jeremy's gloating toad grin as he sat in the passenger seat of the car, loving all the chaos erupting. He'd gone from school bully to baby fascist. I was looking forward to knocking the smug grin off his face.

First I had to find him though, and in this anarchy it wouldn't be easy. That's assuming he'd even stuck around to watch the show.

I drew on my powers. Only through boosting my senses would give me the shadow of a chance of finding him.

-
>this is going to be a tricky one. You're looking for a needle in a haystack here.

>roll 3 x 1d100+5 dc 95
>>
Rolled 81 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467
inb4 triple nat1
>>
Rolled 46 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467
>>
Rolled 17 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>6082467
Aight let's do this
>>
>>6082493
Damn, so close
>>
Dang, couldn’t repeat the hound master feat
>>
Rolled 71, 70 + 5 = 146 (2d100 + 5)

>>6082467
Just gonna role to see if I get it
>>
>>6082700
Ooop, well still got it wrong anyways
>>
>>6082523
>>6082518
>>6082493
that's a fail.
>>
(sorry for the delay, I have an annoying dog)
>>
>>6082881
Its cool, dont forget your name
>>
Through the smoke and the noise I searched. A man with hair dyed blue and range came running out of the smoke, blood running from a split lip, panicked eyed as behind him the cops came chasing. They caught him with a blow to the back of the knee, dragged him back by the collar of his shirt. Instincts had me wanting to help him, but I had to focus. Block out the noise and the chaos. I leapt up high to the top of a tree, scanning the surrounding park land, the nearby city blocks.

"-out of here!" someone said.

"-fingers, broke my f-"

"-asshole, don't you touch-"

"-sorry, please-"

Nothing good happening out there. Priscilla Takanawa stood at the far side of a soccer field in a bullet proof vest, speaking quick and earnestly into a camera, the young man shouldering it intense and nervous. A fat black man by a pick up truck cracked a beer, giving an evil chuckle as he watched the pandemonium. Nervous people looked out from the windows of nearby shops, smart phones in hand recording it all. But there was no sight of the beat up old car. No sign of Jeremy or Hudson. No finger print of the people responsible.

Sight beyond sight, I thought. And looked past the physical world to the other one.

The sky above went from blue to red, the shadows grew inky black and impossibly deep, and the sun. The sun became a black pit of nothing that I dared not look at. Across the fields of Marquette Park, thick pulsing vines had grown, glimmering cruel thorns standing from the wet flesh. A noxious smell came over me as I glimpsed into this unconscious world. I didn't like what I saw, and it didn't help me in my search either.

I forced away the vision of another world. Back to the smoke and chaos of our one.

Right in time to see the blonde jackboot, Semper Fi, glide down from the crowds, her short pleated skirt ruffling in her descent. Blonde bobbed hair and a red half cape over a golden dress, Semper Fi looked right off the cover of a comic book, but I knew she wasn't here to help. Not the ordinary people at least. She descended on the riot with an unnatural calmness, passing me on the way down.

She gave me a glance. "Why are you dressed like a hobo?" she sneered, but she wasn't here to fight. I wished she was. It wouldn't end well for her if she did.

"Never fear citizens!" she called, "The ever faithful Semper Fi is here!" Then set about helping the cops round up the rioters.

Rather than wait for her to try me I booked out of there.
>>
Landing on a rooftop, I let out a string of the worst curses I knew as I searched the backstreets for some sign of the would be terrorists, wishing I could do more for the scene I'd just left. I can't fight every battle. That's what Ayesha would say. Pick and choose and try not to die. Just do my best. Ivy would say that. But it felt like for every win I caught two set backs. There seemed no limit to the bad shit the world could dish up. Someone had to do more. I needed to do more.

The day cooled into the afternoon, though not cool enough, not really. The wind out of the east helped some but it was still 70 degrees by the time the sun came down. I was hot, itchy, and needed a shower. This hobo get up was not comfortable. And I was angry at the nothing I'd turned up. At the fruitless searching across the rooftops. I needed to hit someone. Needed to hit someone hard.

But what good would that do, other than make me feel better for five minutes? There had to be something I could do.

>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
>There's always a thug to beat on, go on patrol
>write-in
>>
>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
>>
>>6082938
>>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
There's burning the candle at both ends and then there's chucking the candle into a crematorium.
Which one do you think we're doing?
>>
>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
>>
>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
That old dude drinking seemed suspicious
>>
>>6082977
For real, you know what?

>>6082974
I'll add to the vote
>Check the old man who was laughing with the supernatural sense

We don't know if there's people who get infected by all this bad force and maybe the old man got some weird spiritual condition. I feel maybe we should go to the Zoroastrism temple again and ask for the more "mystic" of them and see if he can see something, instead of freaking out like the guy who attended us
>>
>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
Wish we had asked Semper Fi why she was dressed like a prostitute in return
>>
>>6082938
>No, I'm doing too much, go rest
>>
>>6082981
Its pretty late now, if I read right, he probably left
>>
>>6082989
>>6082982
>>6082981
>>6082977
>>6082974
>>6082966
>>6082963
pretty unanimous vote there
>>
What the hell was I doing? I needed to rest. Looking for more trouble wasn't going to solve my problems. Home, a shower and a bed. That's what I needed. I went out that way, stopping to change at my hideout before walking home.

Everyone I lived with new what I was about now, but that didn't mean I could be careless about going too and from. There were always people on the look out for me, trying to find out my secrets. Not just government types either, the paparazzi had become a problem. A whole new wave of gossip websites had grown, all focused on 'capes'. Articles questioning our secret identities, the details of our love lives, and what our agendas were. The most harmless were simple fan pages, but some got obsessive and intrusive.

So I walked the way back home, saying 'hi' to Mrs Valdez on the way up.

Inside music was playing, a fan going strong, and Ms Flores at the kitchen stove dancing while she cooked, her back to me. Ms Flores, Carmen, dad's girlfriend and my English teacher. She'd been living with us a while now but it hadn't grown less awkward. Not least because she was cooking in bike shorts and a white crop top, beating the summer heat by stripping down with the fan blasting.

We really needed AC. I really needed to...not look where I was looking.

There was an age gap between her and Dad. She was 27, he was 40. Some how they were making it work, even if sometimes people asked if he was her dad. He wanted to marry her. I'd asked him to wait. It was too soon for me, after Mom had died. Maybe that made me an asshole. I don't know.

"Hey!" Carmen called, not looking back, "You back from the Jewels already? That was quick!"

She turned then and laughed. "Sorry Eric, I thought you were your dad."

Mangy came up and ran herself against my leg.

"What's cooking?" I asked.

"Chili. Did you eat? Got an appetite?" she said, stirring the pot. I always had an appetite. "Piping hot, Texas style chili." She said it with a laugh like it was a joke. I didn't get it. Hot food while it was hot out maybe? I dunno.

I scratched a red spot on my arm. I really, really needed a shower.

"Did you have fun at the pool?" she called through the wall as I hit the shower. I gave a grunt as I turned the tap, the sudden cold spurt making me jump. I got the temp how I liked it, then scoured off the sweat and the filth. The pool. The pool felt like it had happened years ago. Ivy, Ayesha, and all our friends. I owed them both an explanation for why I'd been gone for so long. They'd understand, they always did, but I still felt like the biggest jagoff in the state, if not the country.
>>
Cleaned up, I came out to a bowl of chili with some crunched up corn chips for a garnish, beans and rice as a side, and a tall glass of cold coca cola.

Maybe them getting married wasn't such a bad idea.

"Your dad's out picking up some things," she said, "Uh, maybe I should mention. We're planning a trip. Down to Mexico. Me and your dad. We're visiting my grandparents down in Monterey. No date for it yet, but..."

The chili went down good, just spicy enough. The coke did too.

"I thought you were from Chicago," I said.

"Born and raised," she said, "And my Dad's side have been here since the 60s, but my Mom is originally from Mexico. She moved out here as a teenager with my aunt, staying with their aunt. It's a very interesting story." She said the last dripping with sarcasm.

"Any idea when you'll go?" I asked.

"Before school's back," she said.

What she wasn't saying was if I was going too or not. She knew about the superhero stuff. Maybe she didn't want to deprive Chicago of its number one protector. Maybe she wanted some alone time with Dad. Maybe she wanted to get away from me. Our summer getaway to the country hadn't exactly been the restful escape she'd imagined. On account of all the violence.

"You're old enough to be home alone for a week," she said that to the table surface. She glanced up. "Isn't that every teenage boy's dream? A whole week unsupervised."

I stuck my tongue in the side of mouth, fishing out a bit of chili stuck in my gums.

"But you can come if you want!" she said, all a bit too quick, "They'd love to meet you. And Mexico is great! Don't believe the headlines."

>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
>you know, I do want to go to Mexico...
>(write-in)
>>
sorry again for being gone so long. how have you all been?

the dude drinking the beer was just an asshole by the way, not meant to be a clue
>>
>>6083050
>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
>"But let me tell ya, I expect some nice key chain, or a "Someone went for a trip to Mexico and only brought me this T-shirt"
>>
>>6083050
>>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
We have enough problems with the cartels without walking into their backyard.
>>
>>6083089
>>6083081
okay, locking these in
>>
>>6083050
>that's okay, you guys deserve a real break
We've gotten in the way enough
>>
"You guys deserve a break," I said, "Just bring me back something nice, okay? A t-shirt or a keychain."

Carmen smiled as the front door opened.

"Hey kiddo," Dad said, coming in with groceries. He looked past me over to her. "You uh, did you talk to him about Mexico yet?"

She nodded. "Don't go too wild down there, you crazy kids," I said, not feeling the humor I was forcing into my voice. It wasn't them, I was just tired. And they both deserved a long vacation from all the crazy shit I'd brought into their lives.

"Right back at you," Dad said, clapping my shoulder, "You and that...throuple of yours."

I just about choked on a spoonful of beans. "Throuple?" that was a bad word. Sounded like phlegm in the back of the throat.

"Polycule?" Dad offered, "Hey, I just googled this stuff."

Polycule was even worse. A polycule was something you used to fix a carburettor. Polycule was one of the pokemon everyone forgot about. Polycule was not a word for our...romantic entanglement. God even that sounded cringe in my own head. Why did it have to have a label?

"You better not call it a harem," Carmen said, her voice flat as road kill on the Dan Ryan.

Jesus. I was blushing. I was squirming in my chair and blushing.

"Back in my day you had to pick," Dad said, "Archie didn't get to have Betty AND Veronica."

"I didn't watch Riverdale," I snapped.

Dad laughed as Carmen gave a sympathetic smile.

"I think that's enough," Carmen said to Dad as he chuckled his way into the kitchen.

I needed to message Ayesha and Ivy. I needed to check on the situation with Zeke. I needed...I needed sleep.

But a week to myself, before school went back in? That did sound nice. Even with the city outside my window waiting, the idea of being alone, having the place to myself. It offered some interesting opportunities.

>time alone...and time to focus on fighting crime
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha
>time alone? time to throw a hell of a party
>(write-in)
>>
>>6083123
>>time alone...and time to focus on fighting crime
>>
>>6083123
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha
>>
>>6083123
>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha
>>
>>6083123
>ONE HELL OF A PARTY
>>
>>6083180
>>6083178
locking this in with a question: are the rules for semi-lewd material still the same on /qst/ since I was last here?
>>
>>6083123
>>time alone...or time alone with Ivy and Ayesha
>>
>>6083123
>time alone? time to throw a hell of a party
We need to get everyone over and hangout, we must look like cockheads to them, soooo, party at our place because Dad and Ms. Carmen are going to Mexicoooooo
>>
>>6083231
It's pretty unclear desu
>>
>>6083231
Rules for lewds might have increased, Reptiod qm got a thread of his packed up for ""erotic roleplay""

you should probably only put lewds in a pastebin and link it, instead of risking it.
>>
>>6083548
that's pretty annoying. guess I should keep any potential sex times as indirect as possible. not that I was writing anything hardcore before.

this update is taking a bit longer than expected thanks to outside circumstances, but it'll be up soon
>>
Ayesha and Ivy.

I really owed them a lot. Days felt like they were the only thing keeping me sane, or maybe driving me crazy in the best way possible.

Our relationship...not everyone understood it, but we'd been through a lot together. Ivy had lost her sister to leukaemia while her parents ran away and hid in Malibu. God, her parents are some of the worst people I've had the misfortune of meeting. Losing Grace had torn her up. As bad as that, a year earlier she'd been taken advantage of by a scumbag music teacher. A parasite who'd sunk his claws into her during the chaotic months of grace's terminal illness.

Somehow she'd pulled herself out of that, but not without scars. We'd helped her heal some of those wounds, the way she'd helped us heal some of ours. Her ferocity scared me and thrilled me all at once. And the wounded heart her fierceness hid knew depths even she couldn't fathom.

We, meaning me and Ayesha. There were times I thought I'd brought nothing but pain to Ayesha's door. First had been the business with her stalker, the Creep. A classmate of ours turned invisible man, Ivy and I took him down. If that had been it, that had been bad enough.

Before Houndmaster caught her, trying to draw out Hotspur by abducting his number one fan. He'd beaten her up, tied her, pumped her full of drugs. He might have done more, Ayesha didn't like talking about it. I didn't pry. It was after rescuing her from him she'd found out my secret identity. We both found out who I really was that night. Even frail and beaten and suffering all the aftermath of that, God she'd been strong.

She was the strongest person I know. Her compassion, her gentleness, her kindness. Everything I was trying to protect in this world.

And I loved them both. Loved them both so much it made my head hot, made the most ordinary thing seem the wildest, strangest adventure. And it felt so awfully wrong to love them both so much at the same time. Everything said there had to be a choice, one or the other. Pluck out my left eye to keep my right one. I couldn't cut one out and keep pretending we were friends. It would be a mutilated, false friendship compared to the heat coursing through me at the thought of them.

But sometimes life gives me a win, and sometimes it isn't all about me either. They loved each other too. They had hurt each other, found each other, healed each other. We'd found each other, and decided the world and what it thought was decent could go fuck itself against the strange knotted up thing that had entangled us, bound us all together.

We love each other, and anyone who had a problem with that could fuck themselves.
>>
Maybe it wouldn't last forever. Maybe it would break apart one day. But what did last forever? Not life, not love, not the ice caps or the Amazon rainforest. The universe itself would slide into the night of entropy one day and there would come a great nothing, an endless night where creation had once been. But until the stars went out, we chose to live. Me, Ivy, and Ayesha. Together, for as long as love lasted.

Or maybe we're just a bunch of dumb horny teenagers.

God, I'm a sap.

I sent them a message through the group chat, telling them about Dad's planned trip to Mexico, heart thumping on all I'd just thought over.

Ivy - sounds cool.

I grinned at how plainly she'd punctuated my thoughts.

Ayesha - I don't think my parents would approve that kind of sleepover, but...if I told them I was sleeping over at Kaylee's or Jessica's? Don't know. I'll figure something out.

Always worried about appearances.

Mangy rubbed against my knee.

"Guess you'll be around too," I said to the fluffy white cat, scritching her behind the ear. That was one responsibility I couldn't avoid. Feeding the cat.

Dad and Carmen were leaving for their trip sooner than I expected, just the next afternoon.

"Here's some money for groceries," Dad said, living an envelope full of tens on the counter.

"No stress Dad, Luis will have me covered," I said.

Dad frowned. "You need to eat more than just boxes of expired donuts and day old pizza."

That was his opinion.

"And stay out of my bedroom," he said, "If there's any trouble..."

"Dad, do you really think I need to worry about burglars?" I said.

"Don't destroy the house," he finished, "Just do your best to have a safe, normal end to your summer break." He thought about what he said. "Normal for you, at least."

Normal for me. There was a thought.

Normal showed up the next morning just after Dad and Carmen left for O'Hare. Normal carried a gym bag over her shoulder, wore blue jeans, a black tank top, sunglasses and a grin. Ivy.

"You look ready to stay," I said, standing in the door. Considering how much we'd already done, my guts were still churning up. "Your parents are okay with this?"

She laughed that bitter way I liked.

"No, the fuck do you think?" she said, shoving her bag into my chest. She went to the fridge. "So are we playing happy family or what? Who plays the housewife?" she fished out a coke.

"You'd make a terrible housewife," I said.
>>
The look she shot me had a little glare in it. "Pal, you don't know what you're talking about. I could housewife so fucking hard you'd think it was the 1950s again. I'd housewife so hard they'd abolish women's rights. Don't tell me how I'd do being a housewife." She leaned against the table and batted her eyelashes at me, "Now when would Daddy like dinner ready, before or after his blowjob?"

Oh fuck. I blushed so hard I had to look away. Ivy snorted.

"You're too easy."

A knock on the door and Ayesha was waiting in a yellow sundress with her own bag.

"I told them I was staying over at Annie's," she said, grinning, "Which is great since Annie is still away at camp, but they don't know that." She popped me a kiss on the cheek before strolling in, then popped a kiss on the bridge of Ivy's nose. "So are we playing happy family?" There wasn't a trace of sarcasm in her voice as she got out a fry pan and some of her vegan food.

For some reason that got me blushing even more. Even Ivy gave a soft, red cheeked sigh at it.

"How'd things go with Zeke the other day?" Ayesha asked as she stored away her food. "If you're okay talking about it." Mangy rubbed herself against Ayesha's leg, getting a pat for her troubles.

>that was something I'd rather not talk about
>fill them in on the details

forgot my trip
>>
>>6083744
>fill them in on the details
>>
>>6083744
>fill them in on the details
>Let them know its probably, dumber than they think first. Or just plain worse.
>>
>>6083744
>>fill them in on the details
We decided to go all in on this relationship, means we can actually talk about our day without having to dance around
>>
>>6083682
Pretty sure it depends on whichever janicuck is lurking too, if its a pastebin link they cant do anything though.
>>
well I'm not exactly going to derail this quest into hardcore smut so we shouldn't worry, just thought I'd ask
>>
>>6083744
>fill them in on the details
>>
>>6083780
Plot is plot, especially when it's "Plot", with how you handled our threeway relationship turning into horny diabetes. I for one want to see more, maybe not right off the rip so you get in the swing of things again, but it is good when you make it.
>>
>>6083766
>>6083768
>>6083770
>>6083803
going to confirm this and start writing the update
>>
"They could have been worse," I said, "Could have been better too. No one died at least."

"Don't jump for joy now," Ivy said. We sat on the couch, the three of us.

"You know he told me he was in love with you?" I said to Ayesha. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed her temples. "Sorry, maybe should have kept that part to myself."

"And he thought killing people would what, impress me?" she said, "He knows I'm a vegan."

"I don't think even he knew what he was thinking. All I know is he got himself into a real mess."

"But he's alive, and no one got hurt," Ivy stressed, concerned for both of us.

"Not hurt by him at least," I said, "You saw the news about the riot? It was bad. I just couldn't...couldn't stop it or do anything about it. I could only watch while people just...hurt each other. Hated each other. And over what? It was just...it was harder than the stuff with Zeke."

"It sucks being stuck on the side lines," Ivy said, "Welcome to the human race."

"Humanity First got what they wanted and didn't even have to do anything," I said, "Half the country thinks Chicago is some kind of warzone. That my people are just out there causing chaos and ripping apart the city."

"Yeah, wouldn't know anything about that," Ayesha said, maybe a little sarcastic. "It sucks you have to go through this, Eric. It really does. People can just be so...so...stupid sometimes!" She punched her lap with the cutest snarl I'd ever seen.

"The summer camp," Ivy said, undistracted by emotion, "You said you found something. Something called the Waingro Foundation?"

"Yeah."

"Did you tell your sugar momma at the DA's office about it yet?"

"Oh God don't call her that," I said, "But yeah I told her."

"And?" Ivy said, "It seems like a pretty big lead. Bigger than Jeremy in a busted up old Subaru."

I shrugged. "These things take time," I said, "And I'm more the 'bust heads open' kind of guy more than the 'spend hours reading files' type."

"If there's one thing I'm good at its reading," Ayesha said, "If you want we can look into it."

It was a tempting offer. Before I could give an answer Ivy flopped into my lap, on her back, looking up at me with a sly grin.

"But," Ivy said, "I don't think you wanted us to stay over for a study party, even a 'save the world' study party, did you?"

A cough in the back of my throat turned into a grin of my own. "Not exactly."
>>
"Bet you just want to forget everything for a second," her fingers brushed my chin. Then I felt Ayesha's arm slide around my shoulders. "Forget all your troubles. Get the weight of the world off your shoulders." Ivy did all the talking while Ayesha just bit down on a smile, big dark eyes lowered on me. Something stirred in me. It was Ivy's turn to bite her lip. "That's right. You just let us take care of you."

Hours later, in the dark sweatbox of my room, Ivy lay her head on my mangled shoulder. Still panting, a flutter in her eyes.

"It's funny, Eric, there was a time I thought you were the most annoying boy in the world," she said, "Now look at what you've got me doing."

"I'm still pretty fucking annoying," I said, pleasantly out of breath, "And if it makes you feel better, I used to think you were kind of a massive bitch."

"I always thought you were both pretty cool," Ayesha said, her head now on my other shoulder, giving us both tender eyes while a twitch still ran up her side. She placed a hand on the scar across my belly.

"And you, I thought you were an uptight goody two shoes," Ivy said. Ayesha wrinkled her nose.

The bedsheets beneath us were tangled up and sweated through. The room stank of us, stained by us, marked by the unrestricted burst of unsupervised passion. No need to worry about being heard or found out. I ached all down my legs. We ached together, joyful in the afterglow.

Fuck me. Did I even deserve this? What kind God took mercy on me and ushered me to right this moment? Nothing about being a super hero had come with much reward, just a lot of pain and misery. And there was more misery to come. Why not enjoy this while I had it, even if I didn't deserve it. Maybe deserves got nothing to do with it.

"I love you," Ivy sighed, and meant it for both of us.

"I love you," I said, meaning the same.

"I love you," Ayesha said, eyes fluttering shut as she nestled into us.

I did forget, for a second. Even as I slid into sleep, for a second I got to forget...

-
The prince lay in his bower. He wore a doublet of white and silver.

His maidens all around, in white dresses and veils. A diadem of starlight they placed upon his brow, a white flame upon his breast, a sword hilt of silver fitted in his grip.

The prince lay in his bower, unmoving. A sleep so deep no cry could raise him, though cry his maidens did. They wept against each other for their lost prince. And more, for what was lost without him. The sky was dark beyond them, though not the dark of night but something worse. An ugly nothing, swallowing, greedy, relentless. They wept and held each other hard against the nothing.

Against a nothing that allowed no light or shade.

A nothing that saw.

Even in dreams.

And beckoned, 'look closer and see'.

See the fate of all.

Come

And

See
-
WAKE UP!
-
>>
I shot up from bed, panting. It was the dark of morning. No one had spoken. I grasped for the sword hilt and wondered at the weight of the diadem gone from my brow. Lost to me, as lost to me as my maidens. My maidens, I...I looked. My maidens slept deep, nestled against each other in gentle repose. My...my what? Maidens? The dream slid away as I panted. It was this heat. I closed my eyes. Just the heat, and my own fucked up head.

When I opened them, Mangy stared from the doorway. Her white fur had a soft glow in the night. A light from the kitchen still on. Maybe.

She slow blinked at me, her soft purr carrying across the room.

There was something strange about the cat.

Water, water would help. I got up.

A good night followed by a bad dream. That was my life I guess. I chugged water. Filled the glass. Chugged some more. Thirsty.

I closed my eyes again.

The light had been from my phone. A fifteen minute old text.

Dad - Check it out!

A picture of him and Carmen at a Mexican airport. They'd got there safe.

Dad - Hope you're safe!

Good. That was good.

Safe. I rolled my shoulders.

I had to make sure the city was safe.

>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
>>
>>6083893
>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols
>>
sorry if I'm a bit rusty. I haven't written prose in a while
>>
>>6083893
>chuck on the suit and head out for some early morning patrols
Oh man, remembering the weird dreams now
>>
>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
Literally got no leads, better to chill and make calls then running around with our heads cut off.
>>6083900
Sucks the lewds were quick, but it was sweet all the same, and the flashbacks are properly creepy.
>>
>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
>Check Mangy
>"You're a really strange cat... Is there something you wanna tell me or I can go to bed now?..."
>>
>>6083893
>>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me

As in the old days I'll only be able to vote after the session or maybe the next to last vote when I get up
>>
>>6083893
>>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me
and I'm gonna second checking Mangy >>6084057
>>
>>6083893
>resist the urge and return to bed, Chicago could survive a day without me

Crime fighting? Weird prophecy dreams that red wizard guy should know about? Nah back to bed.
>>
>>6084360
>>6084129
>>6084064
>>6084057
>>6084012
back to bed it is

give me a sec for the write up
>>
I had to-

I had to get some fucking sleep! The city could survive a night without me. Goddamn, I had two beautiful women to cuddle up with. Would I really forget that first night in to instead bust a junky in the jaw for trying to lift some copper from a construction site? Where was my head? I had another glass of water. The clock on the microwave said it was 3 AM.

Turning back to bed, Mangy was watching me from the doorway, tail whisking behind her.

"You're a really strange cat," I said.

"Mrrp," she replied, blinking again.

"Is there something you want to tell me or can I go to bed?"

She bopped her head against my calf before running herself against my legs. I gave her a scritch behind the ear.

"Okay, keep your secrets," I said, before slumping my way back in.

Ayesha and Ivy held each other in sleep, cheek to cheek, Ayesha snoring softly while a trickle of drool ran from the corner of Ivy's mouth. It was a peaceful sight. I slid in behind Ayesha and looped my arm over both of them. Holding them, protecting them.

We didn't know what we were but what we were felt right. Felt good.

Life doesn't last long. It gets snatched away in a second. So I had to hold on to what I could. Tomorrow was never a guarantee. Why give up what's good, just because others didn't understand? I breathed in the smell of Ayesha's hair, listened to the harmony of their sleeping breaths. It lulled me off to sleep.

And this time, there were no dreams.
>>
My phone went off at breakfast. Pancakes. I'd made them, the first one coming out one big fucking mess of half cooked batter. Cooked vegan style for Ayesha's benefit. Egg free with basedmilk.

It was different, I'll give it that. In neat stacks, it went down good with some genuine Canadian maple syrup.

It was the Fire Watch group chat.

Misfit - Need some help here!

A really bad photo of half Misfits thumb blocking what looked like a massive shard of ice. In midsummer, during a heatwave, in the middle of Chicago.

Misfit - Calling all FUCKING HANDS!

I looked up to my girls munching on their breakfast. What a sight, sleepy eyed and tender. Pancakes and orange juice. Christ.

Grit might make it out there first, or Pratfall. Did it have to be me?

>Of course it did. Time to fight
>Leave it to the others to handle, just this once
>>
>>6084064
>As in the old days I'll only be able to vote after the session or maybe the next to last vote when I get up
I like to end on a vote so's you guys can stay included in decisions
>>
>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
Time to go face off against some crazy cryomancer.
>>
>>6084440
>>Of course it did. Time to fight
Crime never sleeps, at least we got one night to ourselves
>>
>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
As is tradition, time to beat the day inti submission.
>>
>>6084440
>Of course it did. Time to fight
Doing it just to get away from vegan breakfast
>>
>>6084444
>>6084450
>>6084452
>>6084456
didn't doubt it

let's go fight a supervillain
>>
"Duty calls," I said, laying the phone down.

"Love 'em and leave em," Ivy sighed, swirling a chunk of pancake in her syrup.

Ayesha fetched my costume, giving Ivy a glance like they'd planned something.

Okay now this is me being spoiled. Ivy got off my shirt while Ayesha did my pants, and together they dressed me. My jacket, my pants, my boots and gloves. They buttoned me up and made sure it was right. The mask went on last, and not before both took a kiss. You want to give a guy courage enough to fight the armies of hell, you couldn't have done much better.

And they weren't tender pecks but deep, needing kisses, the kind left little of the mouth on touched. The kind that said, 'I need to hold your taste until I see you again, because I might not ever see you again.' Ivy whimpered into hers as her fingers dug into my back, and there were tears in her eyes when the kiss broke.

"Come back to us," she said.

"Kick some ass," Ayesha added with a wink.

I pulled on the mask as much to hide my red hot face.

They held each other as I went out the window, and with a surge of white hot energy, leapt away into the blue sky.

It hurt more than I'd expected, leaving them behind. My heart pumped with a strange and unexpected fear. Maybe I wouldn't ever see them again. Maybe this really would be my last ride out.

No. I wasn't going to let that happen. I'd mop up this super freak and come back to them. I would. I didn't have a choice.

Bounding out through the city, thoughts set on the fight ahead, but I still had to appreciate somethings about the city. If there's one thing I love about Chicago it's the architecture. The old buildings mixed in with the new ones, big broad palaces of commerce with all the gilding of the 19th century standing between the towering skyscrapers, the monuments of the 20th century. Construction was going on fixing up old ones and bringing up new, giant machinery at work totting steel beams to form a lattice work of a structure. And cutting through it all was the strip of water of the Chicago River, pouring in from the lake.

I might not have been born here, but dammit this place was my home.

The first clue I had something was wrong was when the temperature dropped from the high 80s straight down to what felt like 30 degrees. Then one the river, sludgy ice like what you got at winter's end came flowing down, melting apart with every yard it travelled down stream.

The second clue was the flecks of snow in the air.

The last, and most obvious, was the sound of ranting.

It was out the front of Merchandise Mart, one of those great old Chicago buildings from before last century. Bad name for a beautiful building, I heard a revving motorbike and over it, a harsh screech.

"I AM DEGREES KELVIN! I AM THE WINTER STORM COME TO SAVE MANKIND!"
>>
First thought, bad name. I dropped onto the roof of a river boat stuck frozen in the river. The pilot shivered, looking up at me. He shrugged. His passengers and their tour guide huddled as far from Merchandise Mart side as they could. You ask me they should stay where they were, rather than risk the fragile ice that had them stuck in place.

In front of the grand old building, a snow storm whirled, and in its heart a small blue man with bright white hair. His hands moved, conducting the storm around him, fingers flicking to form great shards of ice that missiled out, trying to spear the loud black bike currently gunning around him.

"WE ARE CREATURES OF THE ICE AGE, AND TO AN ICE AGE WE SHALL RETURN! WE EVOLVED FROM THE LONG WINTER FROST!"

"Bad fucking name, Kevin!" Misfit yelled through the storm. She was in her black biker leathers and skull helmet. White light filled the cup of her hand and she flung a flash bang. It burst against an ice shard, splintering it to pieces before it could hit her. She gunner her bike through the shower of splinters toward him.

"I SHALL RESTORE THE CRYOSPHERE!"

"See! That's a good fuckin' name! Cryosphere! Go with that! Spell it fuckin' f-e-a-r even."

"AND RULE OVER IT AS A WINTER KING!"

"Winter king, now that's a banger!"

He threw out his arm and a wall of ice speared up from the ground, trying to total misfit against it. She threw her arm out and a line of hot little detonations rippled across the slick ice surface. She knuckled down and charged straight through, the weakened ice wall shattering against her helmet.

"I'LL NOT BE LECTURED BY THE LIKES OF THE MISFIT!" he wailed. And raising a clawed hand, a pillar of ice erupted beneath her, catching her bike in the undercarriage and sending her spinning off overhead.

Time for a heroic entrance.

Leaping from the roof of the boat, I scooped Misfit over my shoulder, landing hard on the grin.

"Fuck me, Hotspur, you left that to the last minute!" she said as I popped her down to the frost slick ground, "Maybe show up before he totals my bike next time!"

"NOW THE HOTSPUR COMES TO JOIN THE FRAY? IS THERE NOT END TO YOUR THOUGHTLESS MEDDLING?"

"What was this asshole's name again?" I asked.

"Degrees Calvin or something," she said. Then shouting at our ice summoning foe bellowed, "BAD FUCKING NAME!" Then back to me. "Asshole has people stuck in the building. I been trying to keep him distracted, but he has a real ant up his ass about getting to the people inside."

I cracked my neck, seizing up the icy maelstrom whirling in front of the Merchandise Mart. "Let's go then."

Misfit laughed. "Hotspur's got his badass pants on today. All right, let's do this!"

We knocked forearms before diving in.

>focus on rescuing the people inside, let Misfit deal with Degrees Kelvin
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
>>
>>6084501
>>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
Time to mix things up
>>
>>6084501
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
>>
>>6084501
>focus on taking down Degrees Kelvin, let Misfit focus on rescuing the civilians
We're fire, we can deal with him
>>
>>6084521
>>6084537
>>6084555
Time to beat up a nerd
>>
"I'll handle the nerd, just get the people out to somewhere safe," I said, striding into the snow.

"Gotcha!" she said, racing off.

Degrees Kelvin rode a whirling vortex of snow, riding six feet off the ground, all the grass and cement around him covered in a coat of frost. Each step I took I moved into Antarctic temperatures, until my boot stuck on the last step. The cold. I was numb all over, the fabric of my mask stiff against my face.

"THE HOTSPUR! I'M HONORED TO BE THE ONE TO KILL THIS VILE CITY'S FALSE PROTECTOR!"

Yap-yap-yap, the dude was worse than the Black Claw.

This 'Degrees Kelvin' had a sharp ferret-like face and large eyes that near bulged from their sockets, acne scars clear even at this distance. I don't know if his powers had turned his hair white or if he'd dyed it himself. For a costume he wore what I'd best call a sleeveless blue gimp suit, really going for the tight leather look without much to show for it.

He whisked his hand and ice shards once more burst from the thin hair, slicing toward me.

"BLIND FOOLS!"

The fire ran hot through me, unsticking my boot as I ducked beneath the deadly ice needles. It pumped a hot white course through my body, driving off the cold.

"WE ARE THE PRINCES OF THIS WORLD! WE HAVE THE POWER TO TAKE IT! TO CHANGE IT! WE NEED ONLY REACH OUT OUR HANDS!"

I ducked to a knee beneath a flurry of snow.

I had some hands for him all right.

Then I lunged, straight into the maelstrom.
-
>roll 3 x 1d100 +30 DC 75
>>
sometimes I think this quest was better to read than actually play
>>
Rolled 1 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>6084573
inb4 triple nat 1
>>
>>6084577
Oh yeah thats what Im talkin bout. Its Snow Time
>>
>>6084577
OOOH

NOOO
>>
only a crit success can trump a crit fail

I just HAD to write a bunch of sappy nonsense before this
>>
>>6084579
Shoulda stayed in bed Hotspur, its cold outside.
>>
>>6084580
It really did set this up didnt it. Red Flagging his ass all night and morning.
>>
I'm pretty sure this is the first ever crit fail
>>
Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>6084573
no way
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6084573
>>
>>6084587
>>6084585
>>6084577
critfail confirmed!

oh boy!

been waiting for this!
>>
>>6084588
youreabouttomakeanameforhimselfroundhere
>>
Ok, realize I disappeared for a second at a pivotal moment. Sorry, I have an annoying little dog who needed attention.

back to it
>>
>>6084577
I cant believe you called the crit fail as well... The cyromancer is about to go super sayian.
>>
>>6084625
Its really perfect after that dream vision. Going out so confident and happy with his little group dress up scene, only to get back absolutely busted and nearly frostbitten in summer. He truly was the Winter King.

Have an Ice day in hell Hotspur
>>
The first annoying thing about Degrees Kelvin is his constant fucking yapping. The second was the snow flurries, making it hard to see. Snowflakes came in thick gusts, frosting the lenses of my goggles. It made night out of day. And through the flurries came the deadly shards of ice, darting out.

I ducked one, slapped down another. The snow rose as steam from my shoulders. Frost crunched under my stride. A wall of ice burst in front of me but I put my shoulder into it and burst through the other side. It hurt going through, the initial shock before the ice gave way wasn't gentle. Steam rose from my burning white foot prints behind me.

"You can catch my hands, motherfucker!" I snapped, shoulder stinging.

"FIRE IS IT? THEN WE SHALL MAKE THIS A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE!"

Fucking! Nerd! Blades of ice came whirling through the snow. I caught one and with it, smashed the next with a baseball bat swing. Pebbles of ice showered over my shoulders and chest. I threw the blade of ice javelin like toward Degrees Kelvin.

He reached out a clawed hand, and stopped the blade inches from his face, panting in a shocked rage.

His hands. It was all about his hands. Twitching his fingers of his left hand to gather the levitating flurry of snow and wind that kept him aloft, the sweeping gestures of his right hand sending out the deadly hail. He controlled it all with his hands.

I'm going to break every one of his fingers.

Pulse running strong I broke into a full sprint, leaving a tail of steam in my wake. I knew what I had to do.

The distance between us closed and I saw stark terror begin to flood the villain's face.

Fist cocked back, I leapt. The wind whipped against me. I could smell the rot on his breath.

"No, no!" he brought both hands up, palms flat toward the sky.

I heard a great cracking of ice before I felt it. A hot sting in my right leg, followed by the whiplash of being brought to a sudden, horrible stop. Oddly, other than the sting there wasn't much pain. At first. Until I flopped back and the world turned upside down.

My scream rang out before my brain registered the pain. I was caught on a spike of ice, the tip bursting up out of my right thigh. And I dangled from it, like bait on a hook, the Chicago river my horizon line with the city streets on the opposite bank my sky. It was so cold in my leg I could feel the heat of my blood pump against it.

The relief on Degrees Kelvin's face became a gloating smile. It was disturbing the degree of clarity I had.

"FOOL," he said, "DON'T YOU REALIZE I'M TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD?"

And then he punched me in the face. It hurt him more than me. Hurt himself enough I could tell he was angry about it.

He could have done anything with his powers. He could have made snow cones for kids. He could have gone to the Arctic to help weld it back together. He coulda done anything. He'd decided to be an asshole. Now he was deciding to be a bigger one.

A long needle of ice formed between his finger tips.
>>
"Perhaps I'll pluck out your eyes," he said, hovering close.

Close enough my swinging fist rocked his chin. He reared back with a screech. I pulled myself up by abdominal muscle alone, grabbed the tip of the ice jutting from my leg, and in a fuck you to him, myself, and my future surgeon, snapped it off and pulled it out.

Landing on my feet with a big hole in my leg wasn't easy or fun. The pain almost dropped me to a knee. I had a mind to fuck him with the bloody spike of ice, but the damn thing dissolved in my hand, my own blood bubbling in my fist. I threw it aside, leaving a red spatter across the frosty ground.

I don't know if it was my powers or my rage that kept me standing. I panted behind my mask, breath hot. My mind burned, blazing hot. My thoughts burning out in a single hot pulse. As the fire took over me. As I became the fire.

And as there was no thought, there as no pain.

His clawed hands rose before him, ice flying fast toward me, deadly missiles of sleek and deadly make.

I stepped around one. Stepped around another. My hand came up to cut the next in half, then came down upon the other.

The fire in my hand. The fire. Exploded in my fist. A white hot blade, burning brighter than the sun, leaving black spots in the tail of its cut.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT. WHAT IS THAT? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT!"

I saw now the black marks upon his soul. I judged it, as was a fire-bearer's wont. More ice to scatter with my blade.

"Come then, false-prince," a voice said, cold with judgement and contempt. My voice. "Reach out now, and take what's yours."

His hands. His he rose, no match for the swing of my sword. They came off at the wrist, hot blood pumping out onto the snow.

A laugh barked that did not sound like me. Then a cough. Now pain. My chest hurt. I looked down. A spear of ice, struck me up through the gut, up under my ribs. A cough and blood was in my mouth. A smile, with bloody teeth.

"Well struck," the not-me said, blood trailing down our...my...chin.

Degrees Kelvin was too busy whimpering at his bloody wrist stumps, the snow storm dying around him. "Jesus fucking Christ, dude! My fucking hands! You cut off my fucking hands!" Snorting as he cried, like a blubbering child. The ice spear in my innards dissolved. I fell to my knees. The white hot sword in my hand disappeared into black spots.

"Hmm," I grunted, snorting on blood. I clasped a hand to the hole in my stomach. A hot palm. Steam rose beneath it. The fire rolled out of me, my mind coming back to itself. Needed a doctor. needed a...a...

Ayesha and Ivy. I saw them. Both of them, alone and together. At their best and worst. Dad. He was in Mexico. And Mom.

I couldn't die here. I...so many people were waiting...I...oh God.

It was all going away, and it I could see. See the fate of all things.

I heard a distant boom of thunder, and knew. I knew.

IT COULD SEE ME
>>
THE END

Just kidding, I'll be back tomorrow
>>
>>6084588
Sorry Misfit, we did not in fact have our badass pants on today

>>6084636
HOLY FUCK
Now I'm remembering the possessions and all the other weirdness
We really need to find a parafriend with a healing power
>>
>>6084636
We really need to sit down with Jimmy and hash out our mystical bullshit.
>>
>>6084828
Jimmy: "I don't know, fuck off"
>>
Dr Terese McMichael had been working late that night. The news was full of stories about some superhero fight turned bloody on the streets of Chicago. Like a school shooting though, the shock had worn off over the time since they'd first happened. It should have interested her more, considering her work, but her work was enough that outside of it she'd rather occupy her time with the latest CV Higgins romantasy novel.

Dr Czajka tended bees. Dr Wu painted fantasy miniatures. Dr Kalima watched football. Everyone needed an escape, particularly people in their field.

She was deep into the latest Higgins novel. The Black Prince had just confined Lady Kiera to the far side of his manor. The sexual tension was fraught. She knew the love scene would be coming soon, when their passion would finally consume them both in a sexual whirlwind. It always took Higgins time to get to the smut, but it was always worth it.

She flipped a page with an anticipating twitch, glad to be alone in the labs.

She almost missed the signal. The red light switch on one of the tanks. They didn't believe in alarms, why have all that drama? Maybe they should have, because when she noticed the red light on she all but fell out of her chair.

Dr McMichael was a dedicated atheist, as rationalist as they came, but not so dedicated she kept the 'Jesus!' from slipping out of her lips.

The passions of the Black Prince for his silver bride would have to wait. She closed the book and got on the phone.

"Dr Czajka? Irwin? It's happened. One of the subjects. Tank #63. Will you tell...I don't want to talk to him. Okay. Okay. Please, fast as you can."

She hanged up the phone and stared at the monitor. The red light was on above the tank.

Dr McMichael was as rationalist as they came. The red light glowed. Dr McMichael had no time for superstition or ritual. The red light.

Why then did she feel there was something evil in the red light?
>>
Black stars.

Jewels around the neck. White. Ivory. Jewels and throat.

The dark. Serpents. Writhing. The dark. The vast eternal dark.

Serpents writhing in the dark.

Serpents with eyes of black stars.

And a red light.

With eyes that saw. And see.

Jewels.

Jewels on a white throat...

My eyes opened. There was no drama in it. I opened my eyes and was awake in a hospital bed. Plugs in my nostrils helping me breathe.

Not a city hospital. I hoped. My thoughts still sticky. Hard to pull apart from each other. Who I am.

Hotspur. Hotspur...Eric. A prince? No, that's stupid. Prince Eric. Disney shit. No, something. A knight? No. I'm...a miller?

Eric Miller, my name. Dad. Mom. Grandpa and Grandma. Miller, our family. Hotspur. A name to...to protect my family.

Ice and snow and blistering cold. But it was hot in the hospital room. No AC.

Alone in the room. Yes, I was alone. I closed my eyes.

Opened them. Don't know the time that passed.

Black man in coat talking to woman in scrubs. Both looked tired. Ramsey. Doc Ramsey. Good. I knew him. Tried talking. Took a second.

"Uh," I managed.

Dr Ramsey raised an eyebrow at me. Tired, cynical, but in a way relieved.

"Good morning," he said, "Sorry about the heat, there's been a black out and the emergency generators are dealing with, you know, emergencies."

"You're lucky Thunderchild got you here as quick as he did," the doctor kept saying.

Thunder. I'd heard thunder.

"I've been trying to keep the other one out of the room."

The other one?

"What the fuck doc, why didn't you tell me he was awake?" her brash voice was unsteady as she forced open the door. The doc's expression went sour.

Misfit still wore her biker leathers but had ditched the helmet. She had dark pits under her eyes. Hadn't slept. Eyes were pink too. Cheeks wet like she'd washed her face maybe. Her short black hair was all messed up.

"He just woke up," the doctor growled.

"Second time," I said, "Woke up once I..." I closed my eyes.

"Yo Eric, Eric!" Misfit called as I slipped away.

I opened my eyes. It was dark. Snoring. Soft snoring. Misfit in the corner, asleep in a chair, her head tipped back. Snoring harsh, like a coffee grinder. Door opened with a quiet click.

The nurse. "You lost a lot of blood," she said. There was something off about her, couldn't make it out in the dark. Something funny about the way her mouth moved. She came closer to check my chart.

Now I was full fucking awake and pressing back against the bed, heart pounding. Jesus Christ!

"A lot of internal bleeding..." her voice trailed off at seeing me sitting up and backpedalling away. She wilted. Ashamed. The woman with the eight eyes and the spider mouth, cheeks covered in a thorny fuzz. Eight emotive eyes glittering with embarrassment and shame. Sorry but its not easy, waking up to a woman with a tarantula face. "I...I'll get Doctor Ramsey," she said, sprinting away with a sob.

Oh fuck I'm an asshole.

>try to apologize
>just leave it be
>>
>>6085109
>try to apologize
>>
>>6085109
>>try to apologize
We're still kind of out of it
>>
>>6085109
>try to apologize
I had a nightmare. There was a void full of hate, and they were rolling dice to determine my fate. They rolled bad.
>>
>>6085109
>try to apologize
>>
>>6085118
>>6085125
>>6085136
>>6085139
Eric is a good boy with good midwestern values
>>
I tried to get up to go after her.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I called, but the tubes plugging me into machines kept me in place. Though plugs in my nostrils came free, and whatever was stuck in my arm pulled in a discomforting way. I near tumbled right out of the bed, and would have if someone didn't grab my shoulder.

"Easy there hoss," Misfit said, pulling me back before I took a fall, "Take it easy, Eric."

She pushed me back into the pillows mounded up around my head.

"I'm a jerk," I said, looking to the open doorway.

"Yeah!" Misfit agreed with a chuckle, "But you been fucked up too. Nessa will understand." Misfit sat back. "That's her name, Nessa. Nice chick. Took real good care of you." Misfit unzipped her jacket, fanning herself out before pulling it off. Her body was glazed with sweat beneath it. "Fuck you had me scared," she said, leaning forward, "I shoulda backed you against Negative Kevin instead of running off to help those rich assholes stuck in the Merchandise Mart."

"I don't...I...don't remember," I said. All I could remember was snow and blood, and a fire. But it was bits and pieces in my memory.

Misfit poked my belly, made a wet sound. "Right through here and out the other side. You're lucky you can still walk. Shit, you're lucky you're still alive." She poked my right thigh. "And another through here. Fuck me, Spur, you're looking like some bad cross stitch these days."

She was making fun but there was genuine concern in her face. "When I saw you bleeding out," she said, and sniffed, "I ain't been that scared." Wetness was building in her eyes. Her voice cracked. "I ain't been that scared since I was a little girl." She took in a deep breath and knuckled at her pink wet eyes, a tremble running through her. She let it all out in a heavy sigh that almost, but didn't, choke up into a sob.

"Any way, you owe Thunderchild a big fucking thank you," her grin came back.

"What about...what about the guy," I said, "What was his name again?"

"Degrees Kelvin," she said with a snort, "You don't remember? Well, you left him a little disarmed." I frowned at her laugh. "Brutal shit dude, real heavy metal stuff. Last I heard the cops had him in custody. He ain't much more than a chump without his hands. Hope he can convince Bike Mike to give him a reach around when he's in prison, therwise it'll be like rubbing firewood."

Oh God that was an image I didn't need.

"I cut off his hands?"

That didn't sound like me. Misfit grinned, about to launch into a story when Dr Ramsey came striding back in.

"Awake for real this time?" he asked.

"Seems so," his nurse, Nessa, said. She crouched behind the doctor. "Sorry for scaring you."

"No!" I said, bolting upright, "I'm sorry! That was on me!" I blushed with shame.

"Yeah, it was," Doc Ramsey said with an unforgiving stare, then to his nurse, "Thank you, Nessa, you can go home now."

She nodded to the doctor, then to me, then scurried out.
>>
Doc Ramsey gave me his frown. "You know how she started working here?" he said, "Some jagoff split her head open with a beer can when she was walking home at night. Threw it at her from out of a car. She sleeps at the clinic because she's afraid to walk home alone at night."

"It's rough out there for us freaks," Misfit said.

Now she copped Ramsey's glare. "Worse for some," he said, "Think about that next time you're ordering a slice. People like her don't get to do that." I wanted to sink into my bed and disappear, but Misfit rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for the guilt trip, doc," Misfit said, "What about the big fucking hero right here? How's he doing?"

"Better than he should be, but that's not surprising," Doc Ramsey said, "It took three days but your body seems to have put itself more or less back together, with the help of some medical intervention. You nearly bled to death."

"Oh," I said, "Wait, three days? Three days!" Panic worse than when I was dying set in. "Do my girlfriends know? What about my dad?"

"Ms Grant has handled all that, same with the media," he said, "You're headline news, kid. Again. Some people think you died. Others are...a mite disturbed by what you did."

I slumped back in the bed. "I don't...don't remember, I cut off a bad guy's hands?"

Doc Ramsey nodded. "You can google it, but the images are pretty graphic. Some of your intestine spilled out when you were impaled."

"Gross," Misfit snorted, too amused for my liking.

"If you were anyone else I'd want to keep you for observation," he said, "Considering who you are though, the sooner you're out of my clinic the better."

"Thanks Doc," I said, only half sarcastic. I tried to get up. Misfit helped me.

"I got a change of clothes for you," she said, "Nothing fancy."

My belly burned with hunger. I needed to eat. A lot.

But I needed to know what had gone down since I passed out. Who knew what, what had been said.

And I needed to get home. home to my family.

>food first, the rest could wait
>before anything else I needed details
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy
>write-in
>>
>>6085169
>>before anything else I needed details
He should know what our weird possible past life got up to while we were bleeding out
>>
>>6085169
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy

>>6085171
Seems like we just chopped off some hands and then passed out
>>
>6085169
>home, home to Ayesha and Ivy
they're probably freaking out. we should see them first for sure.
>>
>>6085172
>>6085171
heading home!
>>
Getting dressed wasn't easy. I moved like an 80 year old man. The bad kind of 80. The 'it could be any day now' kind of 80. Misfit had brought me an old Red Sox shirt to change into. That was just downright mean. She really knew how to kick a guy when he was down.

There was now a nice white scar on my leg and my stomach looked worse than ever. I wasn't going to be in any firefighter calendars, that's for sure. It would have been really cool and helpful if my powers could heal scar tissue too, but that was too much to ask for.

Misfit helped me get home, and boy did I need it. Not just the pain but a hunger that felt like a bucket of crabs trying to rip their way out of my belly. She walked me out, then gave me a lift on the back of her bike. A spare little vrrm vrrm piece of shit she'd been working on at the farm, it would have to do. We zipped through the neighborhoods as I held on to her tight, my thoughts preoccupied with my girlfriends.

Three whole days. The last time they'd seen me I'd gone out the window. The next time, had they seen the photos? They had to have. I only hoped Ms Grant had reassured them I was alive, safe and relatively intact.

We didn't talk much, me and Misfit, but it was nice to hold her as she drove. It wasn't a sexual thing. Maybe it had been once, for a second. Misfit was...I don't know what she was to me exactly. More than a friend, but not like a lover. Not just because she was gay.

Family. She could be annoying, she could cross lines, she could bring the worst kind of trouble to my door. But she was family. I love her, and I don't mind thinking it. She was worth the blood and the trouble. And I knew she felt the same way as me, though she'd never say it. Not sober at least.

A sister, I think. I've never had a sister. Or a brother. I figured though that must be what this feeling must be like.

I'd nearly died and now here I was, riding on the back of her bike with the wind in my face. It felt good, and absurd, and surreal. Everything was all off-kilter.

We came to a stop out the front of my place. She kicked out the kick stand before letting me off, pulled a cigarette out of her front pocket. I lit it for her with the palm of my hand, a small throb of energy. It took so much effort I almost collapsed.

"Steady on now," she said, grabbing me before I could lose my feet, "Fuck me, I don't need the grief from your girls if you fall over. That blonde of yours scares the shit out of me!"

She got me steady, then checked my hair.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I really fucked that up. I'll do better next time. Get better at this whole superhero thing."

"Natalie," I said, using her real name, thinking to reassure her.

"Nah nah nah, you just get upstairs and rest," she said, walking me toward the front door, "Let those cute maidens of yours tend their battered hero."

Maidens. That word stirred a memory. Couldn't place it.

"You play too much Elden Ring," I said as she left me at the front door.
>>
"Never heard of it!" she said, backing away.

I grinned. Waved goodbye.

Then I had to man the stairs, and fortify myself against what was waiting for me upstairs.

One step. Two step. Handrail for help. Guilt beat the fuck out of me every step of the way.

I opened the front door.

*pop*

"WELCOME HOME!"

They cheered at the same time, clapping. Not just Ivy and Ayesha, but Dad and Carmen, Luis from the corner store, Ms Grant, and the rest of Fire Watch. Grit, Pratfall, Thunderchild, even Dog Brother. Out of costume of course. Others as well. Thunderchild's phantom girlfriend hovering by the kitchen with a young Asian woman I assumed was Grit's baby mama. Kaylee had stood by the doorway, letting off the popper that now showered me with confetti. Behind me I felt a hard shove, then Misfit's arm around my neck.

"Dumb ass, you thought we weren't going to throw you a party?" she said, "You nearly fucking died!" She kissed my cheek before pushing me toward my girls. Ayesha and Ivy, both laughing but their laughter held tears as they grabbed at me. I pulled them in tight, an arm around each of them.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I'm sorry."

"Idiot," Ivy sniffed into my shoulder, "We thought you'd died. But you came back."

"It couldn't be helped, you told me to."

"What a fucking jerk," Grit said, clapping.

"Biggest one I know," Thunderchild said, clapping too.

The little silver dog tucked in Dog Brother's coat gave a sharp yap.

It felt almost like a dream. Too good to be real.

Was it? My heart started pounding hard. Was it real? I felt my legs grow weak under me as my breath grew short.

"Whoa!" Ayesha pulled me up. The two of them walked me to the couch. "Are you okay Eric?"

"I don't know," was all I could say, my heart beating hard against my chest.

"Get him some water," someone said. Dad came over with a bottle. I drank slow.

"Are you okay?" Ayesha asked again.

I wasn't sure. I looked up to Dad's worried face. He'd cut his trip to Mexico short.

"Is this too much?" Dad asked, "We thought you might like it."

>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>I...I think I'd rather be alone, sorry
>write-in
>>
>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>"Just let me sit this one out for a moment, but if you've prepared something to eat I would appreciate it, I'm starving"
>After that, send a quick text Jimmy saying "Hey,there's a little party going at my house, if you don't mind the shenanigans you're invited, and also I would like to talk with you about something, it's important"

Even if this BIG fucking NERD of Jimmy doesn't like it, we're the protag in this bitch. So either he plays nice or he gets the eventual Gwen Stacy treatment so he can put his shit together
>>
>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>>
>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>>
>>6085214
>Ms Grant,
Ms Grant is not there. I fucked up.
>>
>>6085214
>>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
>write-in
"Just need a moment, felt like someone put the spurs to me."
>>
>>6085214
>No, it's good. It's enough, thank you.
Chat is this real
I forgot our secret identity was so compromised
>>
>>6085233
>>6085224
>>6085220
>>6085219
>>6085216
writing it up
>>
I sat on the couch, Ayesha and Ivy hanging off either side of me.

"I'm sorry. No, its good, it's enough. Thank you," I said, "I just need a moment, I just need..."

"Take whatever you need," Carmen said, "Take your time."

She knelt in front of me, rubbing my knee. Dad stood behind her, smiling. They all did. Stood behind her. As she rubbed my knee.

Then her hand moved up. Up and between my legs.

"Take whatever you want," Carmen said, stroking me. In front of everyone.

"Whatever you need," Ivy said, hot in my ear.

I shuddered. Blinking. Not sure what. What was going on. nothing seemed right of a sudden. Nothing. But all still real.

"Whatever you want," Ayesha sighed hot into my other ear.

Carmen bit her lip as she drew me out. Holding me. Stroking me.

"It's yours," Misfit said, where Carmen had been, smiling as she stroked me.

"It can all be yours," now Pratfall spoke in her place, dressed all in her jester tights.

"You just have to reach out," Kaylee said.

"And take it!" now Ms Grant.

"All of it!" Foxtrot with a lusty grin.

"The world is yours!" now Semper Fi, then Baby Girl, then Salamander.

"It can all be yours!" now Ivy and Ayesha and all the others together.

Suffocating. The heat was suffocating. I was suffocating. It was unreal but all too real.

I CAN GIVE IT ALL TO YOU

A strangled whimper as their eyes gleamed bright, all the others watching, smiling. Waiting.

I CAN MAKE YOU A KING

no

I don't want-

DO AS THOU WILT

my back arched under their hands.

no

EMBRACE THE TRUTH

no

IN THE LIE

no!

TAKE

-enough-

And an unearthly scream broke as at my knees a blur of silver struck Carmen and she broke away from me in a howl.

Pitch blackness. I opened my eyes to pitch blackness, and the sound of a cat spitting. I sat up in my bed. My bed at night with the lights off. The cat was at my knees, her tail up, elegant coat now a mane of bristles, hissing at spitting at the corner.

At something in the corner. An ink blot in the shadow. A woman's shape.

Lilitu. I do not know how I knew what it was. It spoke in the voice of a night wind,

"So easy, a boy, with flaws so clear," it said, "Nearly I had him." It was not English the nightmare spoke, but still I understood.

Never. A thought not my own. Never so easy, night hag. Away. Away lest my glaives rend thy flesh.

"Such meager glaives ye have now, little bride. Princess of naught, lady of doom. We see him now, we know where doomed flight has taken ye. And soon he shall arrive, and teach ye that sorrow once again."

Let him come with all his dread legions. The flame of truth will he find. But he'll not find ye!

Then Mangy pounced as the door slammed open.

Jimmy Green stepped in, a book in hand, as the cat hit the lilitu on the chest, claws sinking into its shoulders, bite clamping on its throat. Jimmy spoke words of power as the night hag shrieked, his fingers making crooked symbols.
>>
It thrashed at the cat clinging to its throat. Thrashed in terror for its life as spots of light broke open around it, giving detail to its form. Its black carapace hide, shaped in the mockery of a woman's curves, its latticed ug eyes bulging from its face. It howled and swiped sharp talons at the cat, trying to rip her free as vile green blood spurt from its throat, a foul stink rising from the wound.

"Stay the fuck out of this," Jimmy spat as I took a step forward.

He moved now between it and me. Mangy released her bite, spring down and darted over to Jimmy's side.

"Sister of the night, get the fuck out of here," he said, and spoke one more word that hurt my ears to hear.

It broke apart with a shriek, dissipating into the dark of the room, its smell still lingering on the air.

I sat at the back of my bed, panting. A dream. How much of it had been a dream?

Jimmy, the Red Wizard, looked back at me. "You alive?" he said. I nodded. "That's good. Now get some pants on, I can see your tent pole."

I blushed, covering myself.

A laugh that came from inside my own head, but not my own thoughts. I stared at Mangy.

What the fuck was going on? The dream. I remembered the dream. Just about every woman I'd ever had half a crush on. Fuck me, am I really that horny? I shook my head.

A common weakness amongst princely men, think nought of it. Daydreams and fantasies. True love abides beyond such things.

Most definitely not my voice. I glared at the cat, knowing I knew things I had forgotten, though knowing I only knew them in the vaguest terms. Its confusing even to me.

"You were giving off some kind of energy, going off like a beacon," Jimmy said as I pulled on my jeans. "I came quick as I could."

"Thanks, Jimmy," I said.

"James," he said, "A jimmie is a condom. If I hadn't been here, do you know how fucked you'd have been? Literally and metaphysically, I mean."

"Uh."

"You'd have been the sock puppet of I don't know what, other than real fucking evil," he said, "Causing all kinds of trouble, a prisoner in your own mind. You're lucky you're a wizard's boon. It's about all that saved you."

A most valiant rescue.

"You're welcome, my lady," Jimmy said to my cat, giving a short bow.

Amused laughter again. Your eyes are open.

"A wizard must if he wants to see," Jimmy said. She followed him out my bedroom door.

What the fuck was going on?

Outside to the kitchen, the lights all off. Ivy was waiting there alone. She stepped over, carefully.

"Are you going to faint again?" she said.

"Again?" I didn't know what she meant.

"When Natalie brought you home, you fainted on the front step. We had to carry you up. It was not fun, you're a lot heavier than you look."

"So the party," I said.

"What party?" Ivy frowned, "Fuck, Eric, you just got out of the hospital. We aren't going to throw you a party."
>>
Oh. I guess it had been a bit too apple pie. I sat at the kitchen table, hungry. I could eat an apple pie. I could eat five.

"Ayesha had to go home. Her parents are furious. Turns out they called Annie's parents to see how they were doing and found out everything. Busted, bad luck!" Ivy scoffed. "But that's nothing compared to, I dunno, a demon or something trying to suck your soul out through your cock! I almost consider it cheating, you know! Almost!"

Fuck me. James sat with a grunt. Mangy jumped on the table, rubbing against Ivy.

I really don't like that name. I glared at the cat.

Ivy paced back and forth, frowning, looking ready to punch something. "It never ends," she muttered, "Always something else."

Okay. Things were getting clearer.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jimmy asked.

"Coming home," I said.

"No, before that. Starting with your fight with the idiot in the costume," he said, "Try. Try to remember."

"I-"
-
>roll 3d100 dc 90

I shouldn't do write ups when I'm horny
>>
Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>6085366
Success crit, on the way
>>
>>6085404
HOW
>>
>>6085404
Huh... I suppose Jimmy will need to make a second exorcism, and on the same day. This for sure is going to count as practice
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

Let’s see if our luck comes back.
>>
>>6085404
Bruh, what the fuck
>>
Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>6085366
miller luck coming through
>>
>>6085366
Inb4 crit
>>
Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>6085404
>>
I didn't plan on a second crit fail so soon.

I'll need to take a minute to plan out this next update
>>
>>6085556
We're so fucked
>>
>>6085556
Eric no! Don't fuck Jimmy he doesn't feel that way about you!
>>
this is taking longer than I thought. expect an update either tonight or tomorrow
>>
>>6085899
The gates of Eric's mind are wide open. Prince has not left the building. I wonder how the Prince will treat a wizard. With reverence, or with disdain. If one society of wizards brought about the end, perhaps by inviting the darkness and it's servants deeper into the world, perhaps it will be unpleasant. Thats just wild speculation from someone new tho.
>>
>>6085404
GOD DAMNIT WHY DO YOU ROLL?!
>>
>>6085404
Way to either give us PTSD or throw us into the plot of the hangover.
>>
"I remember..." I said, brow knitting in thought, "I remember..." I stuck out my chin, locking my jaw, struggling. "I remember...the Alamo?"

Not a sound from any of them, not even a smirk. I thought it was funny though.

"Yeah, if you're gonna act a fool I'm going to go," Jimmy said, getting up.

"Wait! Sorry, I'm sorry. This is all just a bit much. A demon just tried to kill me."

Lilitu. Not a demon. The wrong word. Lilitu are not creatures of make believe. They are spawned in the pits of the Enemy, in the dark between the stars. Druj fiends of the vilest sort.

The cat again. I looked at Mangy.

Please, that name...

"You're really chatty all of a sudden," I said.

Your mind is more open. Her tail flicked around her. We shall see how long it lasts. Ivy stared from me, to the cat, to Jimmy.

"This is too weird," she said, stalking off.

Your consort, I like her. The other one as well. They are strong and make you stronger. A prince's consorts must have strength of their own, tis no easy thing to be.

"Consort?" I said.

In your memory you will find it. Your dreams. Red skies and a doomed world.

"My memories," I touched my forehead.

Not yours but given to you, handed down from one prince to another, as yours will be handed down. They are the memories of my...my brother, son of the last ardeshir of our world, and last of the ashavan. Until you, at least. You who now carry the fire.

Ashavan. I'd been called that before, by the necromancer who had stirred up the dead from the Great Chicago Fire.

Is that what the stone did? Made me an ashavan?

No. Not exactly. The stone changed something in you. Made you more sensitive to it, able to access the divine fire by reflex rather than training. A human should not be able to touch the divine fire as you do. And it is through that fire you have these dreams, these moments. And it is the fire that gives you your abilities. I thought I might have been, like, a reincarnation or something. In one manner, yes, but not in the manner you think. So I'm not...not a chosen one or something? This isn't destiny? You were not born to be this, no. It was not by destiny you were chosen.

But you were chosen.

It was by your choices, not an accident of birth. The fire is not so fickle.

I put a finger to the scar on my face. The spot Hector had stabbed me last year, when I'd rushed out to defend Mrs Valdez. Right as the world had exploded.

You've shown yourself to be a...worthy heir to my brother.

There was a bitterness in her thoughts. I stared at Mangy.

Serenäe.

As close as your mind can grasp my name. It is Serenäe. Not 'Mangy'.

"Serenäe," I said. It was pretty. My brother always thought so.

Our thoughts were hard to divide. This was all a lot to take in.

"Enough chit-chat," Jimmy snapped, "Open your mind, Eric. We need to sort this out before you bring something worse after you. After all of us."

"Okay," I said.
>>
Think on the fire. Imagine it, as if it were before you. Then open your mind to it, let it pass through you.

I sat, and thought. A white flame. I pictured a white flame in darkness. Let it take you. It spread through me, but rather than do anything with it, I sat with it. My body hummed, my hearing perked up. My senses grew. I could smell the ice cream on Jimmy's breath. I could hear the hum of electricity in the walls. The soft cough of Mrs Valdez down stairs as her grandson burbled in his crib. The beat of the wing of a fly in Dad's room. The heart beat. Ivy's heart beat. The smell of her hair even from here, of the skin cream she liked. The feel of the table beneath my hands, the cheap wood, the course fabric of my jeans against my legs. I took in everything.

The rummaging of a rat in the garbage outside. The beat of an owl's wings. The sound...like a soft hummed song, a song beneath...everything.

Arash.

Serenäe.

My brother.

Am I?

It's you, I know!

It's me, but not. This is not me. We are both here. Cleaved apart yet cleaved together. If we are joined as one...but I am dead. I know. I know it. Oh I can see it now. I remember now! I'm dead. I'm DEAD! OUR WORLD IS DEAD AND I HAVE FAILED! OH GOD SERENÄE! WHY DID YOU WAKE ME FROM THE DEAD!

I CAN SEE HIM EVEN NOW! THE DRUJ IT LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AS HE KILLS ME! MY BRIDES, MY WORLD. I HAVE FAILED AND IT LAUGHS AS HE KILLS ME! IT WILL LAUGH WHEN HE KILLS HIM TOO, AND YOU!

RUN, SERENÄE, RUN! IT SEES YOU!

Close his mind! Close his mind now, Red Wizard!

"Fuck!" Jimmy spat, and slapped his hand full down on the top of my face.

I jerked back in my chair, gasping.

"Was that...was that what you wanted?" I said.

Jimmy didn't look sure. The cat was bristled all over. The cat that was not a cat but some kind of space princess, staring at me.

Staring past me.

"Did ye think a daughter of the great Zahhak is so simpily destroyed?"

It stepped out into the light, and with it a whimper. Its carapace hips and rounded shoulders gleamed green-black. Its belly was a soft grey flesh, its breasts the same with bruised purple nipples. Its mouth was a woman's, but the rest of its face was covered in the same black-green shell, with bulging eyes belonging to a fly. And in its clawed grip, it held Ivy. Ivy's lips were drawn in, her eyes wide, her face a shade of terror I'd never seen before.

"Her soft skin," it said, claw gliding down Ivy's neck, "Will make a fetching cloak."

The fire burst awake inside of me.

No. The cat screamed. My mind was empty once more as I let the fire take me.
-
>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 85
>please don't critfail again
>>
sorry that took so long to get done
>>
Rolled 76 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084
>>
>>6086086
Its cool, NOBODY expected the crit fucker to fuck us twice in the same thread. WHOM BETTER NOT DO IT A THIRD TIME LIKE HE CALLED!
>>
>>6086089
both hugely derailed the stuff I'd had planned for this thread
>>
Rolled 5 (1d100)

Please no on critfail!
>>
Rolled 85 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084
>>
>>6086147
Thank fuck, you beautiful bastard
>>
>>6086089
Hey, I just rolled a 1 once, I wasn't the responsible of the first one, CHIIIIIIILL
>>
Rolled 87 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6086084
>>
>>6086090
One of the unique charms of running quests
>>
Mangy, Serenäe, launched herself at the lilitu with claws outstretched, straight for the soft flesh of its face. It swiped a claw and the cat gave a hideous shriek as she fell away.

But I flew in next. My rage a pounding drum through my body. Thoughtless rage driven by one thing. Terror. Naked terror at the claw it had on Ivy's throat. Kill it. Kill it. Send it back to the pit that spawned it.

Knuckles crunched against its chin. Ivy tore herself out of its grasp and dived over to Jimmy. The lilitu staggered back but not fast enough to avoid my next jab, each punch fuelled by rage and fire. Its purple lips split open, green ichor dribbling out. It swung a talon for my head.

My rage didn't blind me. I stepped in to its reach, arm raised to cover, loosing a right square between its eyes. That beetle shell that covered its head crunched under the blow. It groaned. My left hook took it off its feet.

I didn't let up. I pinned its shoulders with my knees, drove my fists down into its head, pounding its skull against the floorboards.

"Don't ever, don't ever," I ranted, spit flecking my lips, "Don't ever threaten her. Don't ever. Don't ever! Don't ever threaten my family!"

My fists didn't stop as its crunched and cracked, as green ichor bathed my knuckles, washed my hands to the wrist, black-green shell splinters flying as it and the bone beneath it gave way. The walls rocked, dust falling from the ceiling. Something soft became pulp beneath my knuckles.

"Don't, don't, don't ever!"

My fist struck wood. I punched again.

"Eric, Eric," Ivy had me by the shoulders, pulling me back, back into her arms, "Eric, stop."

I wrestled against her hold until her hands were holding my face and her face was in my hair, rocking me.

"I'm safe, Eric," she said, "I'm safe, you can stop." She kissed my neck. "Stop."

A horrible shudder ran out of me as I let go of the rage and fire. Then I grabbed her. Held her, held her tight. Getting its blood all over her as I clung to her, shaking. She kissed my cheek. I buried my nose into her neck. She was warm and alive.

"Eric," Jimmy said.

He stood over the cat. Serenäe. Red stained her white fur. No, something was worse, something hanging out of her belly across the kitchen floor.

"We need to get her to a...a vet or something."

Arash. Eric. Mangy. I slipped from Ivy over to her. My sister, no, not my sister. A fluffy white cat looking terribly small and feeble. A princess of a doomed people. My protector in the night.
>>
"She's dying," Jimmy said. He was crying. I stroked that soft white fur. how many knights had she slept on my knee. How many afternoons had she spent on my lap. Not many, not enough. Mangy, my cat.

I liked being Mangy, before I awoke, and after, when you could not hear me.

"We can fix you," I said, my voice fractured as I stroked the soft, thick fur.

I will be something else, next. Do not fear. This body, she was only a vessel. When I came to this world. Already dying. But good. Such a good girl. I...I will find another. But I will be asleep. It will take me time to...to wake again. But when I do, I will find you. There is still so much to teach you.

Eric. You are...you are worthy of my brother's role. You are worthy of...

I will find you, my prince.

I will...

The soft white glow of her fur, it faded. And as it faded the pure white snow of her coat faded too. Lying now on my kitchen floor was a grey furred cat. Mangy, her mouth half open, her little pink tongue hanging out. Her eyes staring at nothing. Serenäe might live still, but my cat.

My cat. I picked her up and hugged her tight.

You were a good cat. The best cat. I'm sorry Mangy. Oh God.

Jimmy coughed. I looked up at him. Could he fucking wait?

"I don't mean to be rude, but you do have a dead body in your living room," he said.

The lilitu's corpse, its head now a pulped mess spread across the walls, floor boards, and my arms. It was too much to hope the fucking thing would just disappear like the monster in an rpg.

"This is going to need a lot of bleach," Ivy remarked at the new coat of paint across half my house.

Great. Just one more fucking thing to deal with. Getting rid of this body wasn't going to be easy.

>deal with it by taking it out to the hideout and burning it
>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit
>write-in
>>
>>6086594
>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit
>>
>>6086594
>Call Jimmy and ask if burning the bad thing is a good idea
>>
>>6086594
>deal with it by taking it out to the hideout and burning it
>>
>>6086593
>>Jimmy was a wizard, let him deal with this weird shit
We help of course but demon disposal is wizards work
>>
>>6086594
>Check with Jimmy that we can burn it - if not, let him deal with it
>>
>>6086602
>>6086623
>>6086654
>>6086675
writing it up

we'll be getting back to more typical super hero shenanigans soon.
>>
"Can we burn the body?" I asked.

"Probably the best way to deal with it," he said, "Fire is a purifying agent. That's what my pop's books say, anyway."

"There's a place I know," I said. Which first meant rolling it up in something. We got an old carpet. It wasn't pleasant, for one thing it stank. Lilitu. Was that its name or what it was? I stared at the headless corpse. This clean up was not going to be fun.

For a start my hands hurt, a lot. I might have fractured a couple of bones in there. For another, I was exhausted. I had to eat. It didn't matter what. A loaf of bread found itself down my throat before we got far. Not anything on it, just bland untoasted white bread, followed by a couple gallons of milk. It was disgusting, it was unappetizing. I didn't care. It kept me going.

Ivy tucked a bath towel over Mangy. I couldn't look at the cat right now. I had to focus.

"Just so you now...your Dad will be back at like, 6AM," Ivy said as we rolled the headless night hag onto the carpet. "It was the earliest flight he could get out of Mexico. He was willing to drive back but Ms Flores convinced him to wait."

6AM. It was some time in the AM already, the sun still far off. We rolled up the dead body. I looked at Ivy, looking for signs of stress and fear. There were some, but she was composed. A fleck of green blood marked her cheek, and some beetle shell was in her hair.

"I got my car parked outside, but damn I do not need to be pulled over with that in my backseat," Jimmy said.

"There's a place you can do it," I said, "It isn't far."

"What do you mean, I can do it?" he said, "You want me to douse it in lighter fluid and spark a match?"

"You're the Red Wizard, figure it out!" I snapped.

Jimmy shook his head, hands up. "Fine, yeah, this is more wizard shit. Only...whatever this is, its not a spirit like the other ones we dealt with. This thing is physical, at least, mostly. It's why my spell didn't take. It's both a thing of our world, and of the gulfs." He shook his head harder. "This thing was born as much as made. Shit like this should not exist. It's a violation of both worlds."

The Druj and all its legions.

"I think these things have killed worlds," I said, "Whatever made it. It kills worlds. The Druj. Billions, maybe. Billions of worlds. An enemy of life."

My hands throbbed.

"The Great Filter," Jimmy said, "Not the answer to the Fermi Paradox I was expecting. Nuclear war, climate change? Nope, its Space Satan."

"It's something, I don't know what," I said, "I just hope its...its far away from here."

I picked up its feet. Jimmy picked up the other end. We carried it together downstairs to his shit box car. I told him where to go.

"Eric," he said, "Bed rest. You need it."

"Funny, that had been my plan," I said, "The city has other ideas."

His frown made him look like a particularly jowly dog. "I'll tell you if anything comes up."

The exhaust of the car coughed up when the engine started, and he peeled off.
>>
Dad would be home soon, and I still had plenty to clean up.

When I got back upstairs, Ivy had already started with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. She threw me a second, and I squatted down next to her. It wasn't fun. We didn't talk. The stains were stubborn as fuck. By the time we were done I was coated in sweat as well as filthy, and it was already hot before the sun came up.

"I need a shower," I said, slumping off.

In the bathroom I checked the water, got it warm before stepping in. The door opened behind me. I didn't turn around. Ivy's arms wrapped my waist, she pressed against my beck, hot water rushed over both of us as she held me. I held up shaking hands, the blood running off them to show the busted skin and bruised knuckles. I needed to do something with my hands. Something good.

I looked back to Ivy.

Water had slicked her hair dark against her neck and shoulders, her skin wet and vibrant. Her eyes wide. Lips half parted. Steam rose up around us. I gripped her shoulders with my aching hands. She pulled herself against my chest. Wet and slippery, hungry for each other's comfort. Something good.

When we were done and dressed, there was still one thing left to deal with.

Mangy's body. Small beneath the towel. No longer some strange prophetess from beyond the stars. Just a cat, plan and ordinary and wonderful.

"She was a good girl," Ivy said, holding my hand.

I had no where to bury her. My cat. We put her in a shoe box. Then we took her. We buried her out by the hideout. And I thought, maybe she could still protect me from there. Maybe. Maybe she could play in the field. Chase the mice. Maybe she was gone, and there was no coming back.

But it was a nice thought. My big dumb stray cat, a ghost hunting mice in the field.

When we got home we sat at the kitchen table, and waited for Dad to get home.

We had a lot to talk about.
>>
I'll be back tomorrow with the next update

meanwhile, thoughts on the return so far? I feel rusty as fuck, both in terms of writing and running a quest.

a few plot points got triggered early thanks to those nat 1s, it really derailed my plans into a different direction
>>
>>6086747
Fantastic quest as always
You haven't missed a beat since the last one
Those two Nat 1s in a row would've thrown anybody off their game but you pulled it off brilliantly
>>
>>6086747
RIP Mangy :'(

Writing is great
>>
>>6086747
Great stuff, and it's one of the few quests that run daily AND with multiple posts per session. Looking forward to more standard stuff later. Not sure how I feel about the whole space angle, might just need time to adjust from my assumption that the fire was an ancient mysticisme earth thing and not ancient aliens.
>>
>>6086755
>>6086831
Also degrees kelvin was fun too bad, he probably won't be grabbing a returning role.
>>
>>6086747
Its like you never left m8, but yeeeeah, Nat 1s fresh out the gate are wild.
>>
>>6086747
New reader and I am enjoying it
>>
>>6086994
always grateful for a new face, thanks for checking it out
>>
>>6086747
I'm having a blast, after a while I wasn't convinced this quest would be ever picked up (mostly because of the regular trend of someone making a new Quest that's interesting and it never pass the first or second thread thanks to the Qm flaking).

But man, seeing you come back, one of the first few quest I started reading is so fucking awesome. I really missed Eric and all those awesome concepts you brought with the magic and all those great characters, I wish I could find the Jimmy one shot because your quest is one of my inspirations for my magic system, or at least the vague idea that I have of it.
>>
I was planning on running today but it turns out I have to be somewhere. I'll try to get an update in later, but keep an eye out for tomorrow.

>>6087550
that's very kind of you to say, and I appreciate it
>>
>>6086747
NGL, I'd completely forgotten about the quest but the hype came back the instant I saw the thread.
And let me say I'm not disappointed!
Also, thank you for doing interesting critfails that don't just result in Eric eating shit and failing at life, it's great that you can move the plot forward with those even if it's not the way you intended.
>>
>>6087562
Yo, Bullpen, you good?
>>
>>6088905
yeah! sorry the weekend got away from me. should have posted something yesterday about it. working on the next update now.
>>
It was more awkward than I expected, Dad getting home. We didn't really hug or even say anything. He came home, put his bags away, came back and sat at the kitchen table. I thought he might be mad at me. I didn't know why.

He finally said, "You look okay."

It was weird. Carmen busied herself in another room. Ivy fell asleep on the couch. We sat at the kitchen table, lost for words.

"We saw the pictures," he said, "The ice guy, what he did to you. I didn't want to see them but they popped up on my feed."

"Mmm."

"This superhero thing, Eric. It's getting out of hand."

"Mmm."

"Your intestines were hanging out."

I rubbed my stomach. It was a surreal thing to hear. There was nothing good about your entrails becoming extrails, even if I didn't remember it.

"We were terrified, I was..."

We didn't look at each other. I stared off into the middle distance while Dad inspected the door of the fridge.

"You look okay, but next time?"

"Are you asking me to stop?" I said.

He took his time replying.

"I'm asking you," he said, picking his words carefully, "To slow down. Could you do that for me, slow down? At least until you're out of school."

"Mmm."

Dad was scared. He was more than scared. Dad was terrified. And he had every right to be, but...

But I didn't even know if my gifts, if everything that came with them, would let me slow down. And maybe, maybe I didn't want to. But was really me that didn't want to, or the space prince in my head driving me forward into action? I didn't know. I don't know. I don't know the difference between him and me and where one of us started and the other ended or if the gift of this fire alone was what compelled me into diving head first into danger and loving it every time.

But I had been chosen, and that had been from my choices. So maybe.

Maybe I just don't know, and maybe it doesn't matter, and maybe I should just listen to Dad.

"Please," he said, breaking my heart with how small and terrified he was.

God, I'm tired.

>Okay, I'll slow down (truth)
>Okay, I'll slow down (lie)
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet
>(write-in)
>>
sorry that took so long to get up
>>
>>6089109
>"I am gonna be honest, pretty sure whatever is going on has to do with some kind of Space Satan...or thee Satan, I'm not to sure."
>"I don't think I got a actual choice."
>"Not one I can sleep at night about."
>>
>>6089111
Trips declare you are clear
>>
>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet
>>
>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet

The corporation still has the stone, and the necromancer is still at large. On top of secret agency's backing anti-parafreak terrorism so that they can capture guinea pigs in the aftermath.

If we slow down the problems are just going to show up on our doorstep, like that lilitu did.
>>
>>6089109
>No, I can't slow down. Not now, not yet

Just found out about the Druj who have killed billions of worlds and ours is next. We gotta live as fast as possible.
>>
>>6089167
>>6089164
>>6089117
okay, these seems like a clear consensus. starting the write up
>>
"I, I can't," I said, "I can't slow down. Not now, not yet."

"Not ever?" Dad snapped.

We stared at each other, front on this time. Dad's clenched jaw. He was angry, but under the anger was fear.

He choked out the words.

"Son, he ripped your insides out."

My mind buzzed with my own kind of anger, hot thoughts ripping through me. Memories and thoughts and all my fear for the future swarming me, cracking my voice when I let them out.

"You don't get it!" I said, "You don't get it! I can't stop. Not while...not while Ixion is doing what it's doing with the stone. Not while there's a necromancer at large causing problems. Not when there's some psychotic group of government agents rounding up my people to experiment on. Not while there are terrorists recruiting my friends to blow up innocent people. Not while the Druj is out there! Out there waiting, waiting for me! A world killer coming for me! Coming for all of us!"

"If we slow down the problems are just going to show up at our door and break it down!"

"I've got to live, Dad. Live as fast as possible because I don't know how much time I've got left!"

Dad looked caught between wanting to shout at me or maybe grab me and cry. "This isn't living, Eric," he said, "Can't...can't someone else deal with it?"

He really didn't understand. "There isn't anyone else," I said, "There's me, there's my friends, and there's no one else."

"It'll kill you," he said, "It'll cut you to pieces." He put his face in his hands. "It already has. I don't even know you anymore, Eric. I don't. I look in your face and I don't know who that is. It's not my son, not the boy who cried watching Land Before Time. Not the one who begged us for an X-Box for Christmas. The one who wanted a dog more than anything else in the world. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you walk. It's all different."

The hurt surprised me. His and mine, his words a spike through my heart.

The me he was talking about had died way before I'd got my powers. He'd died in the same hospital bed as Mom. Dad had been drinking even before Mom died. The first night she'd had to stay in the hospital for treatment he'd crawled into a bottle. And there were times he looked a bad day away from crawling back in. Days like today.

"Why can't I protect you?" he said, so soft and pathetic. A heart broken question neither of us wanted to ask though we both knew the answer.

An ashavan protects. An ashavan holds the fire, burning himself to protect his people, and we burn brightest in the dark.

I barely knew what those words meant. How could I say them? The dead prince's thoughts were bleeding into mine. Another problem I didn't need.

"We both need sleep," I said.

"We'll talk about this later," he said. We both agreed, though I knew we wouldn't talk about it any time soon. We'd both said what we'd said, and would need to live with it. At least for a while.

And I really did need sleep.
>>
It had been a couple of days and we still hadn't talked. If anything Dad had pulled back some, barely exchanging a word. Not angry, just defeated. I was okay with it. It was hard talking to someone who didn't understand.

"-could I be anymore-"

"-not the only thing here that's fruity and preco-"

"-record heat throughout-"

"-yippe-kay-yay mister f-"

"-the whole system is out of-"

Dad was flipping through channels the way he did while Carmen leaned over the back of the couch, annoyed. "You're the only guy I know still watches free-to-air tv," she said, "Just throw on Netflix or something."

"Too much of our lives these days is curated," Dad said, "Playlists, podcasts, streaming services. We only see what we want to see. It's bad. Our lives are losing their spontaneity. Life's better with pleasant surprises." He stopped surfing on a scene of Clint Eastwood getting out of a Cadillac. "You ever see a Dirty Harry movie?"

"No," Carmen said.

"Me neither, come sit and we'll figure out if we like it."

She climbed over the back of the couch to cuddle up next to him.

I ate my breakfast. Ivy had gone home yesterday, her parent's as furious as Ayesha's. I'd be lucky to see either of them before school was back. It bugged me some. I liked Ayesha's parents as much as I hated Ivy's.

Ms Grant still hadn't contacted me about Zeke. Misfit and Thunderchild had checked in on the group chat, kept me up to date on what was going on with the para community and if anything bad had really popped off.

"-expecting to make an announcement later tonight," something about the tv screen caught my eye. A picture of Julian Dodd smiling while pretty Priscilla Takanawa read the news. "Ixion CEO Julian Dodd has signed a major deal with the city council, promising to provide 'next generation' aid to help contain the growing threat of super powered criminals. The details however have been scant, with the controversial CEO promising to 'reveal all' at a gala tonight hosted by Governor Tuttle, where he's expected to throw his support behind CCV mayoral candidate Rebecca Byron in the upcoming-"

Dad hit the mute button, muttering 'politics'.

Everything about that news made my knuckles itch. Unfortunately, Dodd wasn't a problem I could just punch in the face to make go away.

But maybe punching my way through problems wasn't the only way to win a fight.

>check out this gala tonight, but go as Eric
>check out this gala tonight, but go as Hotspur
>check out this gala tonight, but don't go alone (write-in a companion)
>ignore the plot hook from the QM and do something else
>>
>>6089289
>check out this gala tonight, but go as Eric
>Bring Pratfall along and notify Ms. Grant
Might as well get the only employee we know to give us an in. Do we have our Uncle's contact info, or do we not really talk that much to try.
>>
>>6089373
Supporting
>>
>>6089289
>>check out this gala tonight, but go as Hotspur
>check out this gala tonight, but don't go alone (Remix and LINCOLN)

Show up after being slightly disemboweled on national tv and give them the 'Rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated' . Maybe a really spicy nat1 where the Prince comes out and drops an insane sounding speech about space evil and his death at its hands. Maybe see if Remix, as the closest I could find to a friendly scientist ally, could get a good look at whatever is going to be unveiled.
>>
>>6089289
>>>check out this gala tonight, but go as Hotspur
>>check out this gala tonight, but don't go alone (Remix and LINCOLN)

Remix might be able to hack into Dodd systems and tell us about his future hidden projects.
>>
>>6089373
Backing this
>>6089556
Remix wouldn't agree to come and even if she did I can't picture her doing well in that scenario
>>
>>6089289
Backing >>6089556
Extending the offer to Remix and LINCOLN but if they very understandably turn us down just see if they can dig up anything online please. I don't want to burn Pratfall's identity if things go bad, and her employee status isn't going to get us anywhere at a public gala anyway.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

seems we've got a tie between going as Eric with Pratfall and going as Hotspur with Remix.

let's settle this again with a coin flip

1 is going as Eric
2 is going as Hotspur
>>
Going as Hotspur with Remix wins

Both would have been interesting additions to the scenario
>>
working on the update but just to let you guys know this week has started very low energy for me. just need to find my rhythm though and should be set.
>>
There was a lot to worry about when it came to Ixion Energy and its CEO Julian Dodd. Wannabe playboy and half assed philanthropist, Dodd was just another billionaire tech bro, but he was a tech bro in control of the stone. The stone that had come from dep space to detonate over Chicago, giving us all our powers and setting off a bloody war for its control, one that had stacked bodies. Now he had it and the few hints I had about what he was doing with it wasn't good.

He treated it like some energy source, but I knew it was more than that. He was meddling with things beyond his materialistic understanding.

I needed to find out more, and this gala seemed a good way to get some more info.

But I'm more of a 'punch the problem' sort of guy. I needed someone smart, who could get the info I needed with a tricky gadget or two.

I needed Remix.

There was a problem though. Remix didn't like me. Or at least, she didn't like anyone but her home made robo-buddy Lincoln. There was a chance she'd say no. There was no way she'd help me for free. Still, I had to try.

Me - Remix, you free tonight? Need your help.

Remix - New phone who dis.

Me - Old memes aren't funny.

Remix - What's in it for me?

Me - Dinner, and a chance to peek inside Ixion Energy's servers.

It took a second before I got a reply.

Remix - This better not be a date. I heard you have some creepy sex harem going on. FYI not interested.

Jesus Christ.

Me - In Ixion Energy or a date. Because fyi, not interested either. You're 9 years old jfc.

Remix - I'm not fucking 9! I'm 13, and I'll be 14 soon!

Me - Either way, not what I'm asking about! Do you or do you not want a look inside Ixion's classified files!

Remix was typing. That was the message for the next ten seconds. Maybe I should have asked Pratfall, at least the company would have been better. Finally I got a reply.

Remix - Ok.

Good. That's good. As annoying and irritable as Remix could be, there was no one I knew who was better at this stuff. It did occur to me though that I was dragging a thirteen year old girl into potential danger. Maybe I needed to meet new people.

What was done, was done.

Heading out I stopped, thought about saying something to Dad. He was still watching tv, Carmen cuddled up next to him. I thought about saying something, but what was there to say? I'd just ruin what he had going on and start a fight. It was none of his business anyway. And if I felt guilty about slinking out without saying a word, I could go fuck myself and get over it. The city needed me. The world needed me.

That's what I told myself at least, ignoring the hard weight in my belly as I left.
>>
The heat had eased up over the last few days. It was still too hot to be comfortable in my suit, but I wasn't boiling to death either, and the approach of night eased it even further.

Rockwell on the River was up in Avondale, and just like its name sat overlooking the Chicago river. From the street it looked like a block of industrial buildings, but boats coming up the river gave it that rarefied air. And it seemed the style of those looking to show off the most, arriving by boat. There were plenty of cars though, most making drop offs before circling off to park. This was the sort of crowd who were driven places, not the sort who drove.

I watched from on top of a building on the opposite bank, crouched low. It was a low key sort of area to host this gala, not the kind of full throated tacky glamor I expected out of a guy like Dodd.

Governor Tuttle disembarked from a riverboat, his security detail discrete. Whatever I thought about his politics, the man had a relaxed, congenial charisma clear even from here, smiling and shaking hands with the staff at the dock.

Byron, the woman he was expected to endorse as mayor, arrived with him. She was the main spokeswoman of the CCV and having heard her talk, I had to admit she could sway a crowd. She had a good reason for her convictions too, her daughter had been a victim of the Ooze, eaten alive by that monster. Some local celebrities were around. Sportspeople from football players to the coach of the Chicago Bulls. The media.

I recognized Julie Adams, a journalist for the Chicago Tribune and a friend of Ms Grant's. She'd put up Misfit when she'd been on the run from the law. She had a photographer with her, an Asian guy with a side cut taking snaps of the gathering crowd.

The incumbent mayor arrived. Mayor Claremont had taken over when the former mayor had resigned to make a failed tilt at the governorship. He was running for office but no one expected him to win. A caretaker. With him though was Charles 'Chuck' Hayward, firefighter and friend of mine, and another candidate for mayor. He was a hero, having lead the ladder team who had taken down the Ooze. And he was a decent, humble guy. I'm glad he was running and if I could vote, it'd be for him.

"Yo, asshole!" the call came from my side of the river.

Looking down, Remix and her robot were waiting. I coughed in shock. Remix's face went red.
>>
She was wearing something better suited for a junior prom, a light pink dress with her hair tied back. She'd actually washed, her rat's nest of hair now glossy and straight, tied back with a pink ribbon. And she...I think she might have put on some make up. It was a different look from her usual unwashed coveralls, that was for sure. Even dressed up though she was still sickly pale, uncomfortably gnawing on her bottom lip as she glared up at me. Living at the parafolk farm though, she wasn't so sickly thin anymore.

Her robot, Lincoln, wore a neat little black bow tie.

"Get us up there, Lincoln," she said to her robot. The robot fired his gas propelled grappling hook, and swung up with Remix on his back.

"I see you dressed for the occasion," I said.

"Well its some kind of fancy pants gala, right? I'd stand out more dressed like I usually do. This way if I get caught I can just pretend to be some rich jagoff's daughter who got lost," she said, "Unlike you I don't run around in some stupid costume. Which, by the way, really is stupid. You look like a retard. People are going to notice the asshole in the costume, you know."

It made sense. Or was a good excuse.

>compliment her outfit
>make fun of her outfit
>ignore it, better to just ignore it
>>
>>6089956
>compliment her outfit

She'll probably shit talk us and call us a pedo, but she went to an unusual effort to look nice for the gala. Complementing her could improve her self esteem and make her care more about keeping a neat appearance.
>>
>>6089956
>compliment her outfit
>>
>>6089956
>compliment her outfit
Lol. Hopefully their eyes on the asshole in a costume will make it easier for some rich jagoff's daughter to get lost. What gadgets does she and Lincoln have anyways? A little communicator might be nice.
>>
>>6089956
>>6090018
+1
Best way we can spin it
>>
>>6090021
>>6090018
>>6089983
>>6089973
ok, writing it now
>>
"It looks good, it's cute," I said, "The dress. Makes you look like a smart young lady."

Whatever cutting insult she was about to launch died on her lips and her cheeks burned brighter, so much so she whisked her stare down at the river.

"Whatever," she huffed.

"Sneaking in is probably a good idea," I said, now a little uncomfortable myself, "But we can't just split up. I need to find you if you get in trouble."

"Good thing I brought these," she said.

Airpods, or that's what they looked like. She popped one in her ear, gave me the other. "You'll hear what I hear, and we can talk too," she said, "Made them out of some old airpods and other bits and pieces." I reached under my hood to pop it in. "People throw away all kinds of useful stuff, its kind of insane."

Talking about her tech relaxed her enough whatever awkwardness she felt melted away.

I tapped my ear.

"Check, check," I said.

"One two, one two," she said back, her voice in my ear, "Trust the tech, Hotspur. It works."

I nod. "That's why I called you," I said, "There's no one better at this stuff."

Again she blushed, this time with pride. She poked me in the chest. "Don't ever forget it!"

The last of the guests were arriving. I shouldn't have been so surprised to see Madeline Grant. She wore a short black dress, bare off the shoulders, and heels that showed off her legs. She wasn't alone. Ironclad, out of costume and in a rumpled black tux, fashionably stubbled. Playing bodyguard still, he wore metal backed black gloves I'm sure he could deploy to deadly effect. Maddie stopped to talk with her friend from the Tribune before heading in.

"I think that's everyone," I said.

"This isn't the break-in of Ixion HQ I was hoping for," she said, "But it beats sitting around a fucking farm all night. So how are we doing this?"

>I'm going to crash in on the gala while Remix sneaks around, let them deal with me directly and see what happens
>I'll hang back and watch while Remix sniffs around. I'll only pop in if and when I'm needed
>write-in
>>
>>6090054
>I'm going to crash in on the gala while Remix sneaks around, let them deal with me directly and see what happens
What
What
I'm sorry, I thought this was a public event!
>>
>>6090054
>I'm going to crash in on the gala while Remix sneaks around, let them deal with me directly and see what happens

"Spur. HotSpur. My invitation was lost in the mail."
>>
>>6090054
>I'm going to crash in on the gala while Remix sneaks around, let them deal with me directly and see what happens
"Good evening, ladies and gents, I am here to make my presence your problem." Pause. "And maaaaaybe answer a few questions."
>>
>>6090054
>I'll hang back and watch while Remix sniffs around. I'll only pop in if and when I'm needed
Lets not cause a citywide incident
>>
>>6090091
>>6090105
>>6090175
caution be damned, causing a city wide incident is part of the calling card
>>
"You sneak in and snoop around," I said, "While I cause a distraction. Catch you later."

With that and a flush of power I bounded from the roof top and over the north branch of the Chicago River, cleared in a single leap.

I landed before the media, and photos were quickly taken as security started toward me.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, "This is a public event, right? Only I think I lost my invitation in the mail. The name's Hotspur, thanks for having me."

"You're going to have to leave, sir," the bouncer in the nice suit said, squaring up with me. I admired his confidence, but none of his fellow glorified valet friends were backing him up.

"You're going to have to make me!" I said with a shrug, "Come on, let's not spoil a nice evening with an ambulance ride, yeah?"

"Hotspur, were you invited to the gala tonight?"

I turned to see Priscilla Takanawa in a flowing green dress, phone in hand recording. My heart almost stopped she was so pretty, smiling behind her phone.

"The last time you were seen in public was a week ago when you were injured fighting Degrees Kelvin."

"As you can see, the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated." I said it with a bow. What can I say, I was feeling sassy. "And as for an invite, this gala is about protecting Chicago, right? Well I'm not going to miss this. And if you ever want an interview Ms Takanawa, you only gotta ask."

With that I sauntered past the security, and into Julian Dodd's little soiree.

It was bigger inside than I expected, tables taking up a lot of space before a stage. Tasteful wooden flooring. It was nice. Easy listening played over the speakers as between the tables, wait staff in smart red vests carried platters of wine and hors d'oeuvres. Pigs in a basket, shrimp in dip, the whole nine yards. There was a bar, drinks presumably free, that some of the guests had parked themselves in front of.

Most notably Ironclad, who had loosened his bowtie and was now nursing a glass of whiskey, a foul look on his face for everything going on. Ms Grant was keeping company with Chuck Hayward, Chuck drinking a beer while Ms Grant drank some kind of diet pop.

There were a few people here who must have arrived early.

Director Miscampbell, head of the Department of Paranormal Affairs, stood chatting with Governor Tuttle while Tuttle's handler, a worm named Lawler, had a much more serious conversation with one of Julian Dodd's men. Keeping an eye on the director, in a tux and a stupid tin helmet meant to hide his identity, was the DPA para-agent Crusader. He already looked mildly drunk

Great. All the biggest assholes in Chicago, all in one place. I wondered if good ol' Burtward Penderose was skulking around anywhere, hoping to get a sniff of a pretty girl's hair.

My arrival had yet to be noticed by the chatty circle of Illinois elites. Fine by me.

"Thanks for giving me time to get off the roof," Remix snarked into my ear.
>>
Dodd himself was no where to be seen, but the emcee of the night, a charismatic young black man, took to the mic.

"Hi there and welcome. It's good to see you all here tonight, we at Ixion are humbled you'd all take the time to come to our little gathering, and we're honored to be hosting it in conjunction with the Committee for Community Vigilance. We at Ixion are all about collaboration, creatively and socially, and we feel this new collab is part of something special."

This was going to be a long and boring night.

"Oh we've got a surprise guest out there! Everybody give it up for my man Hotspur!"

Now that was handled more smoothly than I'd expected. A few surprised gasps of delight, some raised eyebrows, but the emcee had their attention again soon enough.

"It's only right you're here for this, man. no one's done more for the city than you have. But we'd also like to thank Police Superintendent Coburn and Mayor Claremont, without their support none of this would be happening. But we're getting ahead of ourselves."

People were taking their seats as he talked, attention rapt on the stage.

"Before we get to the full presentation, we'd like to bring out another special guest. We all remember the tragedy of the attack on the Guardians Summer Camp. We keep the victims in our thoughts and prayers. But it also needs to be said that in moments of tragedy, we see ordinary people step up. Heroes aren't born, they're made in the moment they decide to do something."

"It's with that I'd like to introduce a young man who stepped up and saved lives, and recognize him with the Ixion prize for gallantry. Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for my boy, Jeremy Kusich!"

My blood froze as the applause broke out, and toad faced Jeremy Kusich mounted the stage. He was eating up the attention. The little psychopath had found himself some limelight and was loving it.

"Thanks Ray, thanks for the intro," he said, "I won't bore you all by talking too much. I'm not why you're all here. And compared to others present, I'm not much to talk about." He said that with a glance in my direction. "But I would like to thank you all and Mr Dodd for having me. There's been a lot of things said about the CCV and Humanity First, not all of it good. But I wanted to say, we aren't what people think."

"They say we hate parafolk, but that isn't true. We aren't a group founded on hate. We only want to protect our community, all of our community, and that includes our parafolk friends and neighbors."
>>
"Most people don't know this, it hasn't really been said, but before joining the Guardians programme, I was a real trouble maker at school. I was expelled in fact. I got into a lot of fights. But the why is important. You see, at my old school there was a real problem with bullying. And also at my school was a kid, a good natured, sweet kid called Howard Howarth. Howie. He'd been born with downs syndrome. And unfortunately for Howie, it didn't matter how sweet and good and kind he was. That made him different. That made him a target. Particularly of the basketball team."

OH YOU FUCKING LYING PIECE OF SHIT. THAT LYING SACK OF SHIT.

The fury burning through me almost cracked a tooth.

"One day they went too far. Someone had to do something. But instead of being rewarded, I was expelled. Maybe I deserved it. I was a bad student and far from anyone's idea of a good kid. But I knew I couldn't do nothing. Because I knew little Howie Howarth didn't deserve it. No one does. And that's not all. I wasn't the only one expelled. My best friend, he was a good kid. A normal kid. Until everyone found out he was a parafolk. Dane. He was driven out of our school by hate. The same hate that had made Howie's life a living hell. No one deserves that either. That's how I feel about the para community. We can't do nothing. Whether the bully is human, or a parafolk, someone needs to step up. That's what the CCV and Mrs Byron are doing. Stepping up. For everyone. We can only be safe, when we're all safe."

There was some applause. The black dude, Ray, gave him a medal before ushering him off. I had an urge, a real strong urge, to find Jeremy and beat the piss out of him. Beat him until both eyes were busted shut. Lying fucking scumbag. How dare he. How fucking dare he.

But before I could do anything I had Chuck Hayward next to me.

"We don't got to worry about no supervillains rolling up to cause trouble, do we?" he said, "Only last time you showed up to one of these things, there were supervillains."

"Good to see you, Chuck."

"Likewise, Spur," he said, chugging back his beer. He lowered it with a burp. "Think the show might be starting."

The lights had dimmed. Julian Dodd stepped out.

"Hi," he said, dressed in his slacker costume, and old Iron Maiden shirt and blue jeans. "We've been having some real wild nights in Chicago lately, haven't we? It's like we're living in a whole new world, and, from a scientific stand point, we kind of are!"
>>
"Ever since the Chicago explosion, a wave of energy has been cascading over our planet. The changes to our atmosphere, our ecosystem, our very oxygen, is broadly unknown. All we know for sure is it has brought about changes in people, giving them fantastic abilities beyond our understanding. Most of these people are just ordinary folks trying to get by. Some though. Some of these people we now call 'super heroes', young people who have stood up to fight the good fight. We all know the names Hotspur, Semper Fi, and Ironclad. They stand as an example of people at their best. But unfortunately, there are others as well. Those who would do harm. Supervillains, villains like the Ooze, Face-Stealer, Thunderchild, people like Nemesis and his Vanguard. People who use their powers to destroy lives and enrich themselves."

"It's more than our police are equipped to handle, too much to leave to a few brave citizens."

"That is why Ixion is proud to announce that, in cooperation with the Chicago City Council and the Chicago Police Department, a brand new, authorized team of superheroes who will work to keep our city safe!"

"Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, let me introduce you to Chicago's first official team of heroes, the Protectors!"

And then they appeared. Six assholes, walking out to join their corporate overlord on the stage.

"Liberty!"

A young woman with brown hair and freckles with a small domino mask, she wore a short dress and flashed a winning smile.

"Haymaker!"

A brawny young man in an orange jumpsuit. I knew this guy by reputation. He was a criminal Pratfall had busted him up. This must be part of his parole. If so, it formed his gimmick.

"Barbaric!"

Another woman, older and clad in furs with a large, muscular frame. She flexed her arms for the crowd.

"Gravitas!"

An older man with a receding hairline and a chin strap beard. He wore a tailored suit with wingtip shoes.

"Nightshade!"

All in black and masked up, they stood silent in the back, hands clasped in front of them. They stared straight ahead at nothing, eyes hidden behind black lenses.

"And the man who never misses, their leader, Ironsight!"

A soldier with a ninja turtles face mask and a next gen rifle. He had that crew cut look that said 'war crimes'.

"Our New Protectors are fully deputized law enforcement officers, with responsibility over policing the para-crimes of Chicago, with a salary and resources provided by Ixion. They won't cost the tax payer a penny."

I looked over each of them, my nose wrinkling. False. This stank of falsehood and stagecraft. Not sure if that was my thought, or the dead alien prince in my head. Either way I didn't like 'em.
>>
"And if that were all, that would be enough, but I live to go above and beyond. If you would turn your attention outside. Yes, that's right, out on the river! Introducing to you all the next generation weapon in law enforcement, the X-II Tactical Enhancement Armor."

I recognized the mech suits that came gliding down out of the sky. I'd trashed a few of them myself.

"They'll make fighting crime a cup of TEA!" Dodd was too pleased with his own joke.

This was all a sick joke. Corporate super heroes and mech suits. This was just the next generation of police brutality.

>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something
>Just shut up and watch, there's nothing I can here anyway

chunky update, sorry for the dump
>>
>>6090306
>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something
thank god the taxpayers don't have to fund our superpowered corporate paramilitary units, that would be a travesty
>>
>>6090306
>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something
Do we remember Haymaker's real name? If so, bring up his criminal history.
>>
>>6090390
>>6090473
Personally, I DO wanna say something about this, and for sure is going to make a good enough distraction, but it could be a total PR disaster for us, do we have something more than Haymaker's past? Because if we only get up and ruin the party after being "graciously" recognized by Dodd, they can switch that up and just call us assholes.

First I thought of maybe telling Remix to "hack" either one of our friends or people from our class and look for some video or photo of Jeremy bullying Howie, but that's something we could do after this with our civ identity and some social media pressure.

We could hope for Julian to have some extensive files about his little superhero team telling us of their past, maybe some medical or psychological records to show if they're really unhinged or see if they're just scummy people. But unless we get our brains to work and bring some more heavy criticism about it, I don't see worth to try and say or do something
>>
>>6090306
>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something

I think it’s time to talk about OUR superhero team, Fire-Watch.
You know, the one who took down ALL THE GANGS IN THE CITY IN ONE NIGHT!
>>
>>6090518
I didn't want to make a huge scene over it, just bring it up as a point of concern and ask if he could really be trusted with this kind of power with such a recent criminal history. Maybe we can ask Priscilla to do it for us.
>>
>>6090537
That would be cool... Yeah, I can get behind that
>>
>>6090537
Hold up, this idea is a PR nightmare. We have Thunderchild on our team. The guy who helped with a terrorist attack. Very hypocritical of us when we can get shot down VERY easy this way.

Ask if Remix can grab anything that could be incriminating for them as fast as possible. If we're gonna speak up, we got to hit them with something that can't backfire on us.
>>
>>6090566
Oh dang, forgot all about that.

Yeah nevermind let's just go with >>6090390
>>
>>6090305
Ya know when I read ninja turtles face mask I actually thought he had a big green turtle mask. What could have been.

>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something

I don't know if speaking out here would be a great idea here, but it sounds fun so I'll throw a few ideas out and see what sticks.

I didn't know Ixion had a corporate thinktank working on a backstreet boys goon squad private army. They've got the pretty face. The edgy one, maybe they could have let him use a ball and chain as a weapon but that was too much of an indentured state property 'look'. The Amazon, was sadly a copyright issue. Someone for the golden bachelorette crowd. A ninja for the kids, and for any Liefeld fans we have Bloodpouch Warcrimes over here. When does the action figure line hit the stores, maybe with a plastic spaceship you can fit them all in.

As a kid I always wondered if there were sharks in these, the kind that smell blood. But its not red in these waters, its green. Was Lockheed Martin not taking your calls so you decided to cut out any middlemen?

How much is Ixion paying for future super powered pinkertons?
>>
>>6090306
>I'm not going to let this stand, I need to say or do something
But!!! I'm going to also support this idea from >>6090566

We don't have any legal names nor do we have some kind of special camera-glasses that we could take a picture and see if Remix could find a way to use face recognition on them, so, if the way to find out about them is with Remix getting in their servers and looking for that info, we could make some time.

In which case, I would support what >>6090577 said about this group being some kind of Pinkertons, maybe saying something like "really nice and all, but how are we sure this group will see first and foremost for the people of Chicago? My powers aren't tied to Inhumane levels of intelligence, but how are we sure this group won't work like I don't know, a Paramilitary organization? Or... Maybe the more correct comparison would be something like The Pinkertons? Are they going to step in to regular people house's or reporters if there's something compromising about Ixiom?"

And there's another question that's going to be a HUGE PR hellhole, and that's talking about these Ixiom team about their background and Identity. If we do it we might go down the Marvel Civil War plot out of nowhere when we're already in huge pile of shit, and at the same time is a valid criticism because after all, they're not the police and at the same time they're a corporation asset, but are going to one way or another act as a police force. Are they going to make some background check or a psychological one? We know this government bitch sups is a psycho, and there's a handful of those who could get through those checks, but still.
>>
>>6090577
Then if Hotsput would lean more into that whole princely persona gravitas from a past life, could really ham it up a bit.

You reach for stars, trying to hold it and control it, only so you can swallow up its light to feed empty men of tin and foolsgold.

Does your own light, your own image, even belong to you in those contracts. We could be princes of the universe and knights of the round, not puppets, not property.

Maybe call that dude Discount Stark or Tinman after giving the mechs a disgusted look.
>>
So the consensus seems to be to speak out, but give me a second to put together what everyone is saying for a trademark 'Hotspur Speech'
>>
sorry this is taking so long. might need a couple of days off after the next update
>>
It staggered me how much it angered me. All this corporate bullshit. And I could have bit my tongue. I could have stayed silent. I could have been smart about it and saved my anger for more pointed and constructive ends.

But fuck it. I was here to cause a distraction.

And I -was- angry.

"What a load of crap!" I yelled, and when I yelled the audience listened, "You've got some kind of scam going here, Dodd, and it stinks! Put six super models in costumes and call them heroes? It was Fire-Watch took down the Council of Crime, not your bought and paid for mercenaries. You can't privatize heroism and still call it heroic!"

"And cuddling up with Humanity First? The All American Fascists? Pretend all you want they're here to help, but I've seen what they do on the street, attacking little kids and throwing fire bombs into homes. You can't wash that out with a little PR stunt and a medal for Illinois' favorite school shooter!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Remix hissed in my ear.

"Buying you more time, kid," I muttered back.

"You can set your Protectors up in Ixion Tower, give them a million dollar paycheck and their own private jet, but what does that make them other than a glorified Ixion Energy security team? All I see on that stand is a corporate paramilitary unit, ready to do whatever they're told!"

None of the Protectors on stage looked comfortable, exchanging glances with each other. All except Nightshade, who kept his black lenses fixed on me.

"What does that make you, Hotspur?" Julian Dodd snapped, "You don't answer to anyone. My team will be answerable for everything they do. Every punch thrown and car wrecked. Every civilian hurt. If they were seen running around with a known terrorist, they'd have to answer for that too."

Thunderchild. God dammit Child, you just had to give Parafolk separatism a chance.

"Answer to you," I snapped back, "Haymaker there was an enforcer for the Triads not long ago, now you have him on a leash."

"We've offered Haymaker a second chance," Dodd said, "Part of a parole program we offer convicts who show good signs of rehabilitation. Or are you saying former criminals don't deserve a second chance?"

"Both the mayor and the governor have signed off on this, Hotspur. Cry all you like, but the deal is done. We are all grateful for everything you've done for the city, and I understand feeling replaced is a hard thing to handle, but we are doing what's best for the people. Better than relying on the...fluctuating...reliability of a few volunteers. Our team will be on standby 24/7, ready to act when and where they are needed."

"And remember, you were offered a chance to join this team as a founding member, Hotspur. We were going to build it around you, but you turned us down. So save us the temper tantrum and let the grown ups get back to business."
>>
"But maybe we should thank Hotspur for speaking out. He brings up good points. The Protectors will be answerable, answerable to a civilian tribunal made up of the best legal and ethical minds of the city. I'll pay their way, but they are not my private army. This is my way of giving back to a city that's shown me so much kindness over the last year. I might be new here, but I mean to stay."

"I'm an American, I'm proud to be American! And Ixion is an American company. There's no city more American than Chicago, and that's why I've made it my home!"

That went down a treat. The man got a small ovation. Fuck, it certainly picked up the confidence of the Protectors again, gone from awkward looks among each other back to beaming at the crowd. All except Nightshade, who still watched me.

Glared at me. There was hatred there. Real hate that I could feel in a crackle on my skin.

The presentation over, food was brought out and conversation was starting. Governor Tuttle was coming over to me, his smile set and looking for a handshake.

"Okay, I've found something and I-HEY!" Remix in my ear, suddenly giving a yell, "WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU MISTER? I'M JUST LOOKING FOR-LET GO OF ME!" Her voice rose to a squeal of real terror that cut through my ear drum.

Fuck. I saw Dodd put a finger to his ear, a severe look cut off his smile. Nightshade looked away from me to his master. They exchanged a look and Dodd nodded. Nightshade stalked off the stage, out the back.

>I had to get to Remix and get her out of here, now!
>Play it cool for now, running off would just tip our hand
>(write-in)
>>
>>6091010
Hmmm bit of back and forth, could have gone better but its something to keep them on their toes in public I suppose. Remix getting caught though, oof. Play it cool and then look for an opportunity to extract Remix with LINCOLN? I'll just play with a few ideas.

Contact LINCOLON to see where he is and if he can do anything. Does he have some crazy gadgets that could cut the power to the ship so the lights go out? Hack into the mechs and cause malfunctions to create a distraction? Somehow he got himself and Remix onto the ship without getting spotted. Unless they just grappling hooked their way over.

Funny idea, ask the mayor for a favor to pretend his 'niece' has gotten lost? Do that but with Grant?

Calling out Dodd or Nightshade would tip his hand I suppose unless he could convincingly react to nightshade having been glaring him down. Ask for a demonstration of all their abilities so Nightshade can't leave?

Could shout that he heard a scream. Cause a panic, suggest that the Protector's protect the Governor and VIPs, then rush off to look into it. Leave with Remix 'in hot pursuit' of something or taking someone to safety. I wonder if it would be too much for a terrorist to show up and attack this boat.
>>
>>6091010
>Play it cool for now, running off would just tip our hand
idk why we brought her
>>
Oh shit this is back! I'm so happy!
>>
>>6091010
I'll back this>>6091067
>>
Do we even have a reason to play it clean and stealthily at this point? Dodd plans on trying to get rid off us later on, and what ever information Remix might have gotten her hands on as has him shaken.

It might be in our interest to go for broke and thug it out. By beating on any Ixion goon until remix has downloaded all the incriminating information she can get.
>>
>>6091010
>write-in: Active your increased senses and rush to Remix's location. once there take out the security guard and play defense for her until she has gotten all the data she can get her hands on.
>>
>>6091010
>I had to get to Remix and get her out of here, now!
Time to find out what beef Nightshade has with us
>>
>>6091010
>I had to get to Remix and get her out of here, now!

Whatever Remix found has him acting serious. It could be what we need to take him down a notch.

Also I’m kind of sad the Pinkerton reference wasn’t put into the speech.
>>
>>6092129
>>6091599
>>6091471
>>6091458
>>6091067
going to write up a combination of this

sorry for no updates yesterday, needed a day off

next few days will be a bit slower than usual but planning to hook back into it next week
>>
>>6092334
It's cool dude, a lot of us are working during your running hours so it takes a minuet to vote
>>
sorry, things got away from me. you can thank my family!
>>
My pulse quickened, I ducked away from the governor's outstretched hand.

"It's a real pleasure-" he was saying, giving his aid a shrug and a smile when I ducked away.

Before I went too far though I slowed up next to Ms Grant. "I'll need a favor," I said, "Can't explain, just go along with whatever I do."

She toyed with the straw in her glass. "Sure," she said, but I was gone before she could say more.

A finger to my ear I said, "Remix, if Lincoln has any tricks to cut the power or something, get him to do it."

There was no response from her end. It only made me pick up my walk into a light jog.

My senses were open, and for a second almost overwhelmed. The smell of these people, their perfumes and colognes a thick smog that hid the real smell of flesh and sweat. The fake white smiles, teeth unnaturally bright in the glare of electric light. Every muttered word spoken right into my ear. The distant click and clash of a kitchen at work. The sound of bottles opened and drinks poured.

"-twenty for the police, and if successful Detroit is pl-"

"-and I want Sydney Sweeney sitting on my lap, but that's not going to ha-"

"-investments in agriculture are risky. Yields are dropping every yea-"

"-the Cubbies are looking good, but they'll ch-"

Not relevant to me at all. I needed to find her, I needed to keep her safe. If I got a kid in trouble, or worse, because I drafted them into my war...I ducked around a waiter to a backroom.

There was a greasy smell that made me think of Remix coming from the backrooms. The kind of lived on the street smell it took more than one shower to take off. I had to trust my intuitions here. Someone called out 'you can't go back there!' but when have I ever given half a fuck about something like that? Remix was deathly mute in my ear, it wasn't like her to keep so quiet.

And it was quiet back here, compared to the party. My footfalls rang loud.

Down a corridor, mops and buckets around, slippery when wet signs. Storage maybe, or where they left stuff they couldn't bother to pack away. And a door where the smell stopped. Where no sound came out of. And a figure in black waiting beside the door, hands crossed in front of him, head cocked to one side.

I hadn't smelled him. I couldn't hear his breathing behind his mask, the patter of his heart. Both quickened at the sight of me. The black lenses on his goggles showed nothing of the eyes behind them.

Nightshade. Waiting for me. None of the other Protectors were around, just him. Waiting, simmering.

"Are you going to get out of my way, or am I going to have to move you?"

He didn't reply in words. Only in a pair of raised fists. A boxer's stance. Southpaw.

And right as he eased into his stance, the lights overhead cut out.

>as good an opportunity as any, strike first, strike hard!
>no need to rush things, let Nightshade throw the first punch
>back off and find another way to handle this
>write-in
>>
>>6092551
>write-in. Summon the fire and flash it in his face, blind him and use the confusion to either rush past him or shove him out of the way
>>
>>6092551
>as good an opportunity as any, strike first, strike hard!
Oh god
What if he goes to our gym and recognizes us by our style
>>
>>6092585
+1
I'm liking this option, our main priority should be to get and protect remix. If nightshade wants to fight us he can do so after Remix is secure.
>>
>>6092613
He's just a boxer. There isn't any connection.

>>6092551
>Make him make the first move
>>
>>6092585
>>6092691
ok

roll 3 x 1d100+15 dc 70
>>
Rolled 22 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6092752
Nice, got some of my stuff in there.
Come on dice
>>
Rolled 82 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6092752
>>
Rolled 12 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6092752
Let's get this show on the road!
>>
>>6092807
easy success
>>
I dropped into my own, more orthodox stance. In the dark Nightshade was barely an outline, a forward left fist, a shoulder behind it. I mirrored him with my own.

He shot out a jab, looking to get my measure. I bobbed back with a hand parry for good measure. He knew what he was doing. He felt me out with a second, then with a pivot of his hips, drove in with an overhand left.

But I was ready for it, ducked into it with a raised elbow and snatching my left hand forward to grasp his goggles. A grunt of surprise when I yanked them forward. But I wasn't done.

My hand filled with light, and in a bright flash I caught a glimpse of his blue eyes before he squeezed them shut with hiss of pain. I let go of his goggles and put an uppercut on his chin to clear him out of the way. He didn't go down but he did give me enough room to shoulder charge the door.

I didn't have time for his dick measuring contest. There was a girl in trouble. My shoulder smashed through the sturdy door like it was plywood or a Bears wide receiver.

"Jesus Christ!" someone in the dark room said. A gun shot went off, the muzzle flash lighting up the room and deafening everyone in it.

"Hold your goddamn fire you fucking moron! Someone get the lights on!"

With a flicker the lights came back up. I stood among splinters, looking at a couple of government suits, one with a gun drawn and the other holding onto Remix. Behind them both was a woman at a laptop, a little confused and a lot of terrified.

"Hotspur?" the trigger happy moron said. I was lucky he hadn't shot me.

Despite the tuxedos, both looked more enlisted than officers.

"Let go of the girl," I said.

"You know this brat?" the suit shook Remix by the wrist.

"I don't know no one, I told you I was here with my uncle but I got lost!" Remix said, then stamped at the goon's foot. He wrenched her off her feet and shook her. She glared at the goon.

"Put the girl down," I said, ready to fight him, "That's the last time I'm asking." The goon looked ready to fight.

"Do as he says, Hoff," I knew the voice behind me, before I looked back. Uncle Karl, similarly tuxed up, his metal hand gleaming with polish. "It's just some rich kid got lost. Nothing to get dramatic about."

"She was messing with my computer, chief," the woman behind them said, "She could be one of them freaks."

"Maybe, Dr McMichael," Uncle Karl, "But maybe-"

Before he could say more Nightshade shouldered past him, his right fist gunning for my head. I dropped back, knuckles flashing past my face.

"Was I hired to be a goddamn retard wrangler?" Uncle Karl spat, pushing himself up from the wall, "Everybody calm down!"

Nightshade didn't look ready to calm down. In fact, Nightshade didn't appear to be listening at all.

>give him the fight, and the beating, he so clearly wanted
>avoid, deflect and de-escelate
>(write-in)
>>
>>6093292
>avoid, deflect and de-escelate
>>
>>6093292
>avoid, deflect and de-escelate
>>
>>6093292
>Avoid, deflect, de escalate
Want to beat him up but keeping Remix safe is more important
>>
>>6093292
>give him the fight, and the beating, he so clearly wanted.

Some gunmen and nightshade are the only people here right now. We have faced a lot worse odds, we can beat the up and then Forcibly claim the laptop and then book it.
>>
>>6093445
>>6093482
>>6093653
let's go!
>>
I ducked a punch for my head and dipped back as a flash of a kick cut across my chest. So he was a bit more than a boxer.

"I don't know why you've got a problem with me, pal, but you need a time out," I said.

Another kick for my head but when I ducked back, the kick swung back the other way, the ankle catching me in the temple. It nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Nightshade, stand down!" Dr McMichael said, clutching her laptop.

A little dazed, still I was ready for his flurry of punches, a spear jab might have caught me on the ribs if I hadn't lunged back in time. He was as fast as I was, maybe as strong, but whatever had his ire up made him sloppy too. He drove a hard overhand left that I dipped away from and instead drove through the solid timber wall.

Smoke rose from his arm, a growl rose behind his mask.

"This fucking kid," Uncle Karl said, muscling his way between us, "Enough, enough!"

He jabbed his fake hand at Nightshade but the black clad wannabe ninja knocked it out of the way, grabbed Uncle Karl by the shoulder and was ready to throw him aside with irresistible strength before a new voice barked.

"Nightshade, stand down."

It was Ironsight, the leader of the Protectors. His words caused Nightsjade to pase, but not stop. Quicker than I could track, Ironsight drew his gun and fired a shot into the air, grounding a bullet in the ceiling. It was a desert eagle, because of course it was.

"Stand. Down."

Now he had the gun pointed at them, with the blank stare said he was willing to use it.

"Dr McMichael, do you have Nightshade's medicine?" McMichael went for her bag.

Now Nightshade for the first time recoiled, and in a soft muffled voice said, "Please."

Dr McMichael withdrew a long hypodermic needle. "This is for your own good, Nightshade," Ironsight said, "A soldier who won't follow orders needs to be stood down until they learn to obey. Maybe after a nap and some sessions in the tank you'll be ready to do that. Do we need to restrain you, or will you take your medicine like a good soldier?"

Behind Ironsight two others of the Protectors were with him, the brawny woman Barbaric and the genteel Gravitas. A hiss rose from Barbaric, and I saw her left arm had transformed into the long, looping coils of a python, the snake head rising up to her shoulders. Gravitas raised his hands as if he were a composer, readying to conduct a performance.

"I'll be good."
>>
Nightshade barely spoke above a whisper now, head hanged in shame.

Ironsight grinned. "No need for the needle, doctor, our little firecracker's falling in line."

Dr McMichael seemed relieved to not have to use it, and slipped it back into her bag.

Now it was Ironsight's turn to size me up. He didn't look impressed. I wasn't much impressed either.

"The vigilante," he said, "Sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. What are you doing back here?"

"Heard a girl scream and came running," I said, "Sorry if that seemed more important than a shrimp cocktail." Barbaric exchanged a grin with Gravitas.

"I can handle it," Uncle Karl said, but Ironsight didn't even listen to him. He turned his dead eyed stare on Remix.

"And who does this charming little girl belong to," he said.

"I'm here with my Uncle Owen," Remix said, "I was just looking for the potty!" She was really playing up the little girl routine, probably too much.

"I said I can handle it, Tom," Uncle Karl said. Now he had Ironsight's attention.

"Never call me that when I'm in uniform," he said, spittle at the corner of his mouth, "You washed up cripple. You're lucky to even have a job. Now shut your yap."

Uncle Karl looked ready to throw hands, but he did stay silent after that.

"Someone find this kid's uncle," Ironsight said, "And if he doesn't exist, find a cop. Little brat is trespassing."

"Oh I exist."

This room was getting crowded now because in came Ms Grant and Ironclad. It was Ironclad spoke.

"Uncle Owen!" Remix worked her way out of the gon's grip and latched herself to Ironclad's side. Ironclad and Ironsight, this was going to get confusing. They seemed to hate each other on sight as much as I did. Some people just brought that feeling on themselves.

"Camie you little idiot, where did you get to?" Ironclad said, "You had Ms Grant here worried."

"Arresting a twelve year old girl for getting lost looking for the bathroom sure is a great official first act for the Chicago Protectors," Ms Grant said, a little smug about it.

"DSA Grant," Ironsight growled, "We've been briefed on you, and your little team of super powered hoodlums. If you think the Protectors will roll over for a bunch of street kids playing hero, or some up jumped lawyer with delusions of grandeur, think again."

"Delusions of grandeur seem in vogue at the moment," Ms Grant said, only growing smugger.

Ironsight checked with his team, then back at Ms Grant. To Ironclad he said, "Keep a better eye on your brat," before leading his team out.

Ms Grant gave me a look that said 'do you have something to tell me?' before we also left.

>Get away from the gala and fill in Ms Grant on everything you were investigating here, as well as share anything Remix may have discovered
>This little caper was none of her business, somethings just didn't need to involve the State's Attorney office or the rule of law
>write-in
>>
>>6095020
>Get away from the gala and fill in Ms Grant on everything you were investigating here, as well as share anything Remix may have discovered
She better have got something good before she was caught so we didn't cause a scene for nothing.

Caught up in the two threads btw, welcome back QM. You give yourself too little credit.
>>
>>6095020
>Get away from the gala and fill in Ms Grant on everything you were investigating here, as well as share anything Remix may have discovered
>>
>>6095020
>>write-in
Promise to fill her in later, and return to the gala. both to keep up appearances and do just a little positive PR work. Also show uncle som appropriation for being civil about the incident.
>>
>>6095336
>Support
Yeah I'll change for that. Remix should get to enjoy the party too since she dressed up, or steal some fancy food for later.
>>
>>6095020
>>6095336
+1
>>
>>6095618
>>6095432
>>6095336
ok going with the write-in
>>
"I'll tell you later, don't we have a party to get back to?" I said.

"After you," Ms Grant said, giving me the door, or what was left of it.

Back out at the gala things had mostly returned to normal. The Protectors were now doing a meet and greet, shaking hands and fielding questions.

"Gravitas, as an African-American hero do you feel a responsibility to-"

"Barbaric, as a POC don't you feel that name has negative-"

"Liberty, how exactly did Ixion recruit you into-"

"Are you an actual military veteran Ironsight, or is that just-"

"Haymaker, you were sentenced to fifteen years in maximum-"

"Nightshade, do you have any-"

Each one of them had a rehearsed answer ready for the media, well coached by the Ixion media team. I had to admire it a little. The only one that didn't was Nightshade, who met their question with the blank stare of black goggles until the journalist backed away with an apology. Real chip on his shoulder, that one.

Barbaric amused the crowd by transforming her arm into the long fore leg of a tiger, yellow and orange fur sprouting over rippling muscle, while Gravitas levitated Priscilla Takanawa a foot off the ground, fingers pressed to his forehead as he did. Liberty levitated herself, flicking up off the ground to fly a circuit around the hall, waving to the crowd.

"Now I'd demonstrate my powers, but no one needs the headache of a gun going off in their ear," Ironsight said.

"Surely you use non-lethal rounds," Ms Takanawa said.

"That's a nice idea, ma'am, but it doesn't match reality. We are officers of the law, and I have authority to utilize lethal force in the course of my duties. No different than any other LEO."

"With the same oversight?" she said, "Only you must admit there has been ongoing controversy over police shootings. To think wearing a costume would change that-"

Ironsight laughed. "We're not going to be running down car jackers, Priscilla," he said, "And we've got no interest in loose cigarettes. The Protectors are here to deal with the heavy stuff. Super criminals and terrorists. Guys like the Vanguard or Ooze. The average criminal only has to worry about the every day police, who if you ask me are the real 'protectors' of this city. Takes a real hero to pick up a badge and do the hard work, day in, day out, and the streets of this city."

"Fake fucking boy scout," Haymaker grunted. In his orange jumpsuit, Haymaker was close to six foot seven with hair a similar shade of orange as his jumpsuit. He loomed over most people. He loomed over me, that's for sure. He looked down and grunted. "Hotspur."

We'd fought one on one, but it was Pratfall put him down in the bust on the Council of Crime. He'd been muscle for the Triad. I don't know why the parole board had allowed this, but there he was.

"You still running around with the sexy clown?" he said, "She broke my jaw. Good thing I heal fast. She don't got to worry, I don't hold a grudge. Not against a nice ass like hers."
>>
"Same crew as always," I said, deciding to be civil and ignore the comment about Pratfall's ass, "Not like you."

He grunted. "It's a cherry gig, beats getting barked at by a Chinese bookie. Better food than prison and I get my own room." Then he laughed. "But all these guys are as full of shit as I am. Barbaric and Gravitas are just looking for some fame and fortune, while Ironsight and Nightshade are both a different brand of psychopath. The only one here might be sincere is Liberty, but that kid's straight off a cornfield and don't know how the world works yet."

"Bet that's not what Dodd wants you telling the media," I said.

"Fuck Dodd," he said, then more softly, "This just stays between you and me though. Don't get it twisted, I'll rip your head off your shoulders given half the chance, but I respect you Spur. You're the real deal."

That was a nice sentiment. Kinda. And I appreciated his self-awareness.

Speaking of Dodd he was conferring with both Uncle Karl and Dr McMichael, making unsubtle glances in my direction.

Maybe it was time to make my exit.

"Hotspur, a word," Priscilla Takanawa said, waving to me.

>another time, Ms Takanawa
>give her a second
>>
every time a typo slips through I debate committing ritual suicide
>>
>>6095964
>give her a second
>>
>>6095964
>Tell to Haymaker
>"Fair enough, this stays between you and me, but if you're telling the true then look out for Liberty"

I honestly don't know if I wanna give an interview, Takanawa for the moment doesn't look like the kind of shitty journo to throw us under the bus for a few bucks, but after what we said in the presentation there's sure going to be some spicy questions
>>
>>6095964
>give her a second
"I might've reacted a little hastily earlier, but I have some reservation about corporate backed paramilitary squads. Oversight is well and good but given corporate America's history and track record of ethical and responsible use of force or consideration of civilian lives in the face of a bottom line. Union busting, united fruit actually most of middle america, payed studies show health benefits of cigarettes, and all lot more even right now where "ethical goods" routinely turns out to be made in unsafe conditions by people who are slaves in all but name. So I hope you will forgive me if I'm skeptical of honeyed words and lip service. Actions speak louder than words and I hope the protectors themselves will show me I'm wrong. Help and good works are welcome, even if it's bought and paid for by a marketing budget.
>>
>>6096026
>>6096048
>>6096109
nothing here is contradictory.

writing it up now
>>
"Fair enough, this stays between the two of us," I said, "But if you're telling the truth about Liberty, look out for her."

Haymaker grunted, downing the last of his whiskey sour, as I went over for a quick one-on-one with Priscilla Takanawa.

She offered me her hand. "Do you mind if we film?" she indicated to her assistant, a young Asian guy with a side cut. "This is Quinn, my camera operator." Quinn had a name tag with the words they/them under their name. Fair enough.

"Hello," I said.

"Smile for the camera, Hotspur," they joked while Ms Takanawa had her phone out to record.

"You had some pretty strong words to say back there, Hotspur," she said, "I take it you're not a fan of corporate sponsored super heroes?"

"I might've reacted a little hastily earlier," I said, " But yeah I've got some reservation over corporate backed paramilitary squads given corporate America's track record. Like with the Pinkertons and union busting, or Chiquita Banana paying off Colombian death squads. Kids paid fifty cents an hour to make hundred dollar shoes, or workers in Dubai having passports swiped to force them to build a billion dollar stadium. That's not even going into stuff like paid studies on the health benefits of cigarettes, or paying off quack scientists to say climate change is a hoax. So yeah, I'm skeptical!"

Ms Takanawa kept back a laugh behind a tight smile. "All valid concerns," she said.

"But you know, actions speak louder than words, I hope the Protectors prove me I'm wrong. We need all the help we can get out there, even if it's bought and paid for by a marketing budget."

"At the heart of every cynic there's a disappointed optimist," she said, flicking her hair out of her face, "You sound a lot like my little sister. Full of anger at the injustice in the world."

"You don't put on a costume and start beating on thugs because you're a calm, content person," I said.

Now she did laugh. "It's clear there's no love lost between you and Julian Dodd, but speaking of drug dealers, Nicolas Bellavanche's trial is coming up. The bust on the Cindy Crawford was your first major effort as a caped hero working in conjunction with law enforcement."

"Rescuing Ms Grant was my real debut," I said, "Is there a question here?"

"A lot of people have speculated if you'll take the stand as a witness. With your identity a secret, many people are wondering if your testimony would hold up in court."

"I don't know, I'm not a lawyer," I said, "But if you're trying to fish for my secret identity, you're going to have to use better bait than that."

"Hmm, what about over drinks at the Loyalist?" she asked, "Is that better bait?"
>>
I blushed behind my mask and felt all of sixteen. Even without the age thing, I doubt Ayesha and Ivy would be happy about me flirting with Ms Takanawa. I could picture them scowling over Ms Takanawa's shoulders.

"A tempting offer, Ms Takanawa," I said.

"When you're talking to the hottest hero in town a girl has to shoot her shot," she said, her smirk understandably self-confident.

"Even if it violates standards and practices," Quinn said with a good hearted mutter.

"The question remains though," she said, "Will you be taking the stand to put our French-Canadian drug smuggler away, and are you prepared for the ethical dilemma your secret identity brings to securing his conviction?"

>I really don't know enough to have an informed opinion
>I'll take the stand, and I'll be happy to see Bellavanche put behind bars
>write-in
>>
>>6096546
>beating on thugs
I thought I wrote 'drug dealers' here, tying into Priscilla saying 'speaking of drug dealers'. Now it makes no sense

I'm a little out of it today
>>
>>6096549
>I would be willing to take the stand, and I'll be happy to see Bellavanche put behind bars but I really don't know enough to have a legalistically informed opinion
>>
>>6096549
Keeping my identity secret is non-negotiable. If my testimony wouldn't require me to reveal it I would be open to it. I haven't received a subpoena so the ball is in the prosecutors court.
>>6096559
Showing ignorance of the legal system would be a bad look for us since putting away criminals is what we do. We need a crash course in this stuff.
>>
>>6096596
We kinda already did with the "I don't know, I'm not a lawyer." comment.
>>
>>6096549
>I'll take the stand, and I'll be happy to see Bellavanche put behind bars
With the understanding that we can't unmask, of course. If our testimony won't hold up like that it's a shame, but we can't risk Ironsight showing up at our house at 3 am. He doesn't even bother carrying nonlethal rounds!

>>6096596
This is good too
>>
>>6096599
>>6096596
>>6096559
all pretty good and expressing the same sentiment

writing it up now
>>
"I'll take the stand, and I'll be happy to see Bellavanche behind bars, but my secret identity is non-negotiable," I said, "Whether that holds up in court or not isn't my problem. That's for the lawyers to figure out."

"You've already made a long list of powerful enemies," the reporter conceded.

"A list that keeps growing," I said, "Look, I appreciate your work Ms Takanawa, but I need to get going."

"And if I wanted to contact you for any follow up questions?" she asked.

"Talk to Madeline Grant at the State Attorney's Office," I said, and with that headed out before Julian Dodd or one of his political friends could corner me for a photo op.

These galas were not my idea of a good time, getting away from it was the best feeling of the night. It would be better though, after I found out whatever Remix had discovered.

Bounding out into the night though, I kind of wanted to stay in the AC a little longer. Even with it getting into the depths of the night, the humidity was still lousy. All I wanted now was a decent Fall and a nice frosty winter, if that would ever happen again.

Landing somewhere south of Rockwell on the River, I waited to hear from Remix. I waited a while, enough I was starting to get worried again, until I saw her and Lincoln amble up an alley, Lincoln porting a large bag of donuts while Remix wolfed one down.

I dropped down from the roof to meet them.

"Good evening," Lincoln said, artificial voice tinny from a speaker on his chest.

"Fun night," Remix said with deep sarcasm, cinnamon coating her chin as she gobbled up the donut, "You sure know how to show a girl a swell time."

"It wasn't a date," I said, "Did you get anything?"

She finished eating before answering, chomping up her donut. Didn't even offer me one. "Yeah," she said, leaving it at that.

I tried not to yell. "Well what did you find out?" I snapped.

Again she took her time eating a donut. "I found out," she said, "That you're a woke cuck. Sheesh, have a bigger cry about corporations why don't you. If I was offered a million bucks and a penthouse apartment, you think I'd stay on the farm with the cannibal shark and the saddest boy in the world? Turn on the AC and cook the planet, because fuck you I've got mine!"

I had no idea how serious she was, if she was ever serious. She'd lived a life harder than most and she was still only a kid. Going through that could be poisonous.

"Oh come on Mr Self-Righteous, lighten up!" she said, and pulled a thumb drive from her dress pocket, "I got enough time to slap some spyware on the laptop. Even their cyber security team would struggle to find it, least of all get rid of it. Give it enough time and I'll have access to the entire Ixion data base."

"How much time?" I said.
>>
"Longer than a night," she said, "Look, I'm not magic. I can't just make this stuff spontaneously erupt out of thin air. Hacking is a lot of sitting around and doing nothing while the software does the work. And with a system like Ixion has it'll take a minute. But I've picked the first lock on the vault door, and the digital treasures are waiting behind it."

That made sense, at least as far as I understood these things.

"I'll let you know as soon as I find something interesting," she said, "Even if its just Julian Dodd's feet pic collection. He looks like he's into feet."

"So what are you going to do until then?" she asked, finally offering me a donut as she started on her third.

It was a good question.

>fight crime, old fashioned style
>deal with any super threats that came up
>get ready for the new school year
>write-in
>>
>>6096654
Thought we'd be talking to Ms.Grant but it's good we haven't since Remix hasn't gotten anything, not yet anyway.
>deal with any super threats that came up
>get ready for the new school year
If we kept fighting mundane crime we wouldn't get anything done ever. We'll try to relax but deal with the super threats as is our duty when they come up, Ixion and the like included.
>>
>>6096654
>write-in: Go train, it's been awhile since we set aside time to work solely on our abilities..
>>
Eric did pop out a new trick against Degrees Kelvin that's worth exploring
>>
>>6096659
That too but I'd just put that on the routine.

>>6096660
The fire sword trick right?
>>
>>6096654
>write-in
Learn how to make that Fire Sword
>>
>>6096654
Get in touch with our powers. Those critfails revealed a lot of stuff worth digging into. Not just the obvious fire sword but the underlying nature of our powers.
>>
>>6096666
yeah
>>
>>6096659
>>6096670
>>6096668
>>6096666
going to lock in 'training our powers' and starting a write up now.
>>
>>6096654
>fight crime, old fashioned style
>get ready for the new school year
I don't wanna fight any more super threats after degrees kelvin :(
>>
"Train, get stronger," I said. "There are threats out there I need to be ready for, if I don't train I'll lose my edge." I punched the air for demonstration.

"Enjoy sweating like an idiot," Remix said, "I'll let you know when I discover something juicy. Come on, Lincoln, let's book."

She climbed up onto Lincoln's shoulder while I ate her offered donut. The robot raised his wrist and fired his pneumatic grappling hook. Remix hugged her robo-buddy tight as he swung out of there, spider-manning his way back toward the parafolk enclave they called home. She might be one of the most caustic people I knew, but Remix had her heart in the right place. At least I liked to think so.

And I wasn't kidding, I needed to train. I needed to figure out my powers, what they could do and where they really came from.

The space princess living inside my cat had alluded to a number of things, but parsing it all out wasn't easy and lacked specifics. The space princess living inside my cat. My life is absurd. One thing I could do though, was go over my fight with Degrees Kelvin.

If a boxer could watch fight footage to review and improve from, a superhero could do the same thing.

It was the next day at my hideout, and I watched my fight with the ice summoning supervillain playout from a shaky camera phone on a river boat. I was alone. Ayesha and Ivy were both grounded and under the thumbs of their parents. Ivy had to get ready for a new school year at the expensive private school-prison her parents had lodged her in, while Ayesha was still in deep shit for sneaking off to stay with us over the break,

It made for lonrly viewing, alone in my hideout with only a can of coke for company.

The start of it I remembered. The part where Degrees Kelvin stuck me in the leg with an icicle was where it all started to get blurry. It wasn't easy viewing. The blood, the sound of my own voice shrieking in pain. Then the moment my posture changed. Not a boxer anymore but something else, more fluid and uncanny in how I moved, and bursting alive in my fist had been a beam of white fire that became a blade. A sword, double edged and slender. Like something a medieval knight would use. Made of burning light, it left black spots in its after trail and crackled with heat where it touched the ice.

I paused the video to stare at the sword. A memory of a dream, that's what was playing in my head. The fire temple. Looking into the fire and seeing it. An outline of it, calling to me.

A sword. The sword is the manifest will of an ashavan.

Not my thoughts. Thoughts that called to me from the back of my mind. From the blaze of a white fire.

A sword to cut through the darkness, as the truth cuts through lies.

It was not a lot of fun having a second rate fantasy author bobbing around my head. I wondered if other parafolk had my specific problem.

But if I called the sword once, I could do it again.
-
>roll 1d100+20 x 3 dc 65
>>
Rolled 75 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6096710
Let's get that blade baby,
>>
a pass

so far

still an outside chance for a critfail
>>
Rolled 18 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6096710
>>6096718
Inb4 dice
>>
Rolled 51 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

No whammies! No whammies! No whammies!
>>
Rolled 87 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6096718
More like still an outside chance for a crit success
>>
and that's a pass!
>>
How am I supposed to do this? Sit criss-cross applesauce, close my eyes and wait?

A cockroach crawled the wall of my hideout. The girls had done their best to dress it up some, but it was still clearly an abandoned warehouse. I sat on the ground filthy with grit and old earth, tried to relax. Closed my eyes.

Serenäe had been my guide through this last time. A pitch darkness, and in the darkness a white flame. For a moment the flame flickered out the white tail of a cat, and I smiled, but it became a flame again. Let it take me. Let the fire burn through me until I was the fire and the fire was me. Be a vessel for the power.

Arash had been the name of her brother, the ashavan before me. The one I saw in my dreams, the one I was, part of me maybe. Last time I had done this she had found his voice in the fire, spoke with him. No voice came this time. It was still in the dark of my mind, alone with the pulsing flame. The flame I nurtured until its heat rose and the light became blinding in the dark.

Do not let it take you.

A voice not mine. Arash? I couldn't know.

Grasp it.

Eyes still shut, I reached out a hand, reached out into the dark.

Take it!

I squeezed my hand, closed it into a fist around the white hot flame.

Draw it forth!

I squeezed and squeezed, and then my eyes ripped open as a burst of pain roared up my arm. I let out a deep agonized cough, hand held shaking before me. White light flared between my knuckles, my arm shaking to the elbow, sweat dripping down my forehead as I gasped on each bursting wave of pain that rolled up through me. It hurts. It hurts! I wanted it to stop. Make it stop!

Draw thine sword, ashavan!

Clenched teeth, sweat dripping, the heat and the pain pulsed together up through me from my clenched fist.

The fire of creation is not meekly tamed. Draw thine sword or suffer destruction!

"S-sword," I said, and placed my left hand over the other.

Draw. It. Forth!

From my fist it burst, a blade of white fire roaring to life. Black motes broke across my vision as sickness rumbled through my belly. I could barely rise to stand. Light, light blinded me.

Ashavan. Fire-bearer. Seek the truth. Stand against the dark.

A cool wind. I stood upon a red hill, fire in my fist, the white flame of Asha blazoned upon my chest plate, the sky the color of spilled wine overhead. Distant gleamed the spires of the Great Redoubt. Across from me a friend, a brother dressed in armor of white and gold, a blade of light before him. Elias Of The Mockbird Laugh, his wit more cutting than his blade, his friendship more fierce than his fire. We met with swords raised, and began the game of blades.

How soon it would become a killing art.
>>
Elias. Elias. No. Elias is dead. Dry ash on the wind. Elias and all the others. The spires broken and in flame. Dead. Dead. It was all dead. A whole world dead.

My knees hit the granite floor of my hideout.

"Arash," I said. The voice was mute. The sword died in my hand and I grabbed my head. "Arash, answer me! I know you're in there! Tell me what this is, what I am!" I fell to my knees, a headache pounding on the inside of my skull where the white flame had been.

"Am I a parafreak or an ashavan or...or am I you? Please. Please tell me. Tell me. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I have to do!"

The silence ran long.

Find her. My thought or his I couldn't say. Serenäe? Protect her. I cannot see...I cannot see...darkness, there is only darkness. Not darkness, no. Nothing. There is only Nothing.

But I could see fine even if my eyes stung. I could see. Bird song. I could hear bird song, and the sound of a motorbike. I was here, I was me.

I had drawn the sword and for a moment the line between me and Arash had blurred. Would that happen again? Would the divide between us collapse to the point there was no separating the two of us? If that happened, would I still be me?

But I had a sword.

I just didn't know how to use it.

I needed a teacher.

But who the hell used a sword these days?

I only know two people who carried swords. Baby Girl, a dangerous criminal and outlaw biker, and War-Wolf, a known terrorist.

>I don't need a teacher, I can figure this out myself
>I know Baby Girl better, she might be willing to train me
>War-Wolf, I don't know her but at least she's not a criminal
>>
>>6096759
How strong was War Wolf's regeneration? Might be good to have someone who can regrow an arm if we're swinging a lightsaber around ya know. I didn't see Baby Girl in the recap thread besides a mention from a resolved mission, what were her powers?
>>
>>6096770
>I didn't see Baby Girl in the recap thread besides a mention from a resolved mission, what were her powers?
yeah, I forgot to mention Sullivan and Baby Girl, despite them being fairly prominent characters.

Baby Girl is, for lack of a better term, a ninja outlaw biker assassin. Though in her own words she's 'not a ninja, she's a kagemusha, a shadow warrior'
>>
>>6096759
>War-Wolf, I don't know her but at least she's not a criminal
Known terrorists aren't criminals? Huh
>>
>>6096811
>Known terrorists aren't criminals?
my bad.
>>
>>6096811
Maybe we can treat it like trying to reform, convince War Wolf that terrorism is bad mmkay? I sure hope it wouldn't require another angle in the polygon though.
>>
>>6096759
We can look up HEMA longsword and see.if their is a local club that we can join.
>>
>>6096759
>I know Baby Girl better, she might be willing to train me
We've worked with her in the past.
>>
>>6096759
>>I know Baby Girl better, she might be willing to train me
I'm always up for exploring our oddly cordial relationship with the Stunt Crew MC
>>
>>6096902
>>6096759
yeah both options seem pretty dicey
>>
The issue with HEMA route is it's too time consuming and we can't actually use our powers during the training. Not really a good option.
>>
>>6096759
>>I don't need a teacher, I can figure this out myself
changing my vote from
>>6097101
>>
>>6096759
>I know Baby Girl better, she might be willing to train me

I gotta see his ninja outlaw biker assassin chick. Kagemusha, I wonder if her weeb level is really that high.
>>
>>6096759
>I know Baby Girl better, she might be willing to train me
Like the prompt says.
>>
>>6097125
Getting good with swords is time consuming anyways.

Don't want to mess up the fundamentals.
>>
>>6096759
Arash knows how to use a sword. He could teach us.
>>
>>6097184
>>6097177
>>6097025
>>6096942
if I'm counting this right, training with Baby Girl wins
>>
I knew Baby Girl probably better than I should, considering she's a violent enforcer for the outlaw motorcycle club, the Stunt Crew MC. Last I'd heard they'd fallen in line with the other gangs and started working for the Haitian. Before the Haitian they'd been muscle for the Midwest Cartel and before them they'd worked with the Outfit. Say what you want about them, they knew how to swim with the tide. Smarter than you might think, but then so was their mushed mouth street boss, Sullivan.

Booking lessons might be a bit...interesting.

It was later that day with the sun dipping down I went to find her.

They were based out of a dive called Kelly's Bar. Lot of bikes out the front with a mix of Asian and White gang members splitting a fifth while a couple puffed on vapes. People heard they were an outlaw motorcycle club and maybe they expected something more Hells' Angels, and there were some members with that vibe, but the Stunt Crew wore white instead of black. I didn't have the full story on why they had as many Asian as white and Latino members, but it had something to do with a crazy week in California that had left a lot of bodies littering the highway.

In costume they knew me, who didn't? One went for his gun but another guy slapped his hand down.

"Don't be fuckin' stupid man, if Hotspur was here to fight you'd already be eating cement."

He gave me a nod. "You lookin' for Sullivan?"

"Baby Girl," I said, "She inside?"

"Busy though," he thumbed the door, "You can wait off the street, dude, you're making people nervous."

Good. Let them be nervous. As I went in I was eyed up like I was carrying a bomb. Motorhead played on the speakers, some stuff was pretty cliché, until I heard the vocals. It was a Korean cover.

Behind the bar, wiping down a glass, was one of Chicago's stranger sights. Dressed in a Canadian tuxedo, denim jacket and jeans with an open flannel shirt, the sasquatch poured a beer for a waiting mope. He had a gorilla grin, all covered in coarse brown fur except the dome of his head which was straight bald. No one knew if he really was a sasquatch or just another parafreak, but he insisted he was a genuine woodland ape, come down from the Rockies to find his fortune and a bride.

Everyone called him 'Yeti'. Pratfall said his real name was 'Wilford', a common name among their people. According to her, Wilford Brimley had been a hero of the Sasquatch nation.

It was hard to know what was true and what was bullshit when it came to the Kelly's Bar bartender.

"Hotspur!" he said, "How you been buddy?" He poured me a shot of whiskey and slid it over. I didn't touch it, not that it mattered.

"Looking for Baby Girl," I said.

"Baby Girl Kusanagi," he whistled, downed his own shot, "The baddest babe I ever met. Kid, that is more woman than you're ready to handle."

"Not like that," I said, "Just need to ask her something is all."

"Ask me what?"
>>
She'd come up behind me and even with my senses boosted I hadn't heard. She wore white leather jeans, spotless, her white jacket hanging over her shoulder and beneath that just a black leather bikini top. Her bleached blonde hair she'd buzzed short at the back and sides but still wore in bangs at the front. Even fully still there was a sense of something about her, an ability to strike, like a viper at rest.

"Uh."

She hung her jacket off the back of a chair, propped up to sit beside me. Yeti poured her a beer.

"Last time we saw each other there were a lot of bullets flying," she said, "The Council of Crime."

"Yeah, and I remember Sullivan pulling a double cross," I said.

"Come to settle a score?" she asked, sipping the froth off her beer.

"Nah," I said, "Outlaws are outlaws. Sullivan couldn't help pulling a double cross anymore than a cat can help pouncing on a bird. It's only a matter of time before you're all taken down anyway."

"Time catches everyone eventually," she said, "Now if you aren't here to fight, best speak your piece or leave."

I thought about it. "We've helped each other out a time or two," I said.

"We have, once or twice," she agreed.

"Maybe I need help with something," I said, "Something personal. Something only you can help me with."

She raised a dark eyebrow.

"Does the Hotspur need a corpse made? I didn't expect you to start on the dark path, not yet."

"It's nothing like that," I said, "You're the only person I know, like really know, who knows how to use a sword. I need to know how to do that too. Properly, and not off some overweight LARPer who learned out of a book."

She sucked on her bottom lip as she frowned.

"The hebi-o-korosu is the treasure of my clan," she said, "To teach it to an outsider is to invite death upon myself."

"Aren't you and your clan already on the slide?" I said.

She shrugged. "More or less, though it is one thing to abandon my clan, another to abandon my heritage. Though, perhaps...There is one way you can learn it. One way I am permitted to teach you."

"What's that?" I asked, leaning closer.

She looked me straight in the eyes, and in a husky whisper said, "You must marry me."

Uh. Was she joking? It was hard to tell if she was joking. She didn't look as if she was joking, leaning just a little closer. Pressing herself just a little against my arm...

>O-okay, I'll do it. Whatever it takes.
>Sorry Baby Girl but my love life is complicated enough
>(write-in)
>>
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>>6097566
>Sorry Baby Girl but my love life is complicated enough.
What does she actually want?
>>
just realized there's a disproportionate amount of cute asian girls in this quest

and there are more to come

no, I don't have yellow fever

might be I need to tone down objectifying the female characters though
>>
>>6097603
>might be I need to tone down objectifying the female characters though
I don't remember any of your characters being made worse simply by being written as attractive. You'd have to do more than that to make them less than human.
>>
>>6097566
>(write-in)
Whisper back "Till death do us part?" My sense are telling me its a game of chicken to see who blinks first. Though if neither side blinks it'll be weird when the two space maidens dream suddenly becomes three.
>>
>>6097566
I always knew we'd end up together, but not so soon
>>
>>6097566
>Sorry Baby Girl but my love life is complicated enough
>>
>>6097637
+1
But if this goes further I'll chicken out, and clarify

>"I don't need a 1-1 of your sword fight, I need at least to know how to swing one decently enough to not stab myself or cut another artery. If you know someone else who you can point out, that would be helpful"
>>
>>6097566
>>Sorry Baby Girl but my love life is complicated enough
I'll also second this >>6097927
We need the basics not her Super Duper Secret Ougi
>>
>>6098272
>>6097917
>>6097589
And I'm going to incorporate the write-ins best I can
>>
>>6098272
I disagree, we do need those super duper secret Ougi. Plus maybe we can get divorced after we learn the secret jutsu, if we can't maybe ninja marriage is very formal and ceremonial so it won't cramp our style. Or maybe Ivy and Ayesha think a hot asian bike outlaw ninja lady would be a solid addition.
>>
>>6097637
>it'll be weird when the two space maidens dream suddenly becomes three
just bringing this up because this might be a detail that's been missed, but the dreams have always involved three maidens
>>
>>6098299
Oh no, was one of them his sister?!
>>
>>6098300
that would be weird
>>
>>6098305
So is Eric, hes being served a drink by a bigfoot yeti while a ninja biker outlaw woman has fun with him and thats just one scene out of his day.
>>
>>6098299
>>6098300
>>6098305
As an important note that TO THIS DAY I remember about the quest, is that Eric had the three Maidens dreams when he was dating her first gf (who I don't remember her name) while also dealing with Ivy shenanigans and Ayesha being around as a friend.

After Eric broke with the girl and started developing something with Ayesha and Ivy, it was THEN that instead of being three Maidens it was just two. Idk about QM but I guess that at the time the original idea was having that four people relationship but after so much drama we just stuck to Ivy and Ayesha, and I imagine that if we "unlock" another posible romantic interest, the three maidens dreams could be back.
>>
>>6098381
I still don't even like the throuple thing we've got going on. Eric and Ivy should just be a couple. Eric loves Ayesha too but it feels less romantic than with Ivy.
>>
>>6098383
Disagree on the feels less romantic point, I don't remember the details but do remember liking the whole arc that got the three where they are. I do want the Ivy and Ayesha angle explored more though.
>>
>>6098383
Nah, I feel this relationship is well developed, or at least there's some sturdy foundations to built on.

Ayesha and Eric at the start where going ok as friends, there was Ayesha sometimes showing interest on Eric, there was the Creep incident and other occasions with Eric helping his school as Hotspur, until finally Ayesha gets kidnapped, saved and seeing how Eric almost have her life to save her.

Ivy and Eric bonded on Ivy's little sister, with Eric showing how he cared about her and still trying to be somewhat amicable and friendly with Ivy. Fast forward Ivy's sisters die, they're both crushed and start to talk more openly, then Ivy's parents come, there's this romantic mission of Ayesha and Eric trying to "save" Ivy and the "reveal". And because this post is already big I'll just say there's also some feeling between Ayesha and Ivy
>>
>>6098396
Gave his life*

My bad, phone posting
>>
Sorry, my day got stolen by a pleasant surprise, writing up now
>>
(always nice to see discussion though)

(and Eric certainly does have a different life than most, both in and out of costume)
>>
"Till death do us part?" I said, leaning toward her. If she was bluffing, I'd play along. The soft press of her on my arm grew firmer.

"You think death can stop me?" she said, the flicker of a devil in her grin. A hot rush went through me and I tried not to squirm as her hand slid over my thigh. Then, with the heat of her breath on my neck, I pulled.

"Sorry Baby Girl," I said, glad for the mask to hide how flustered she'd got me, "But my love life is complicated enough. And I don't think Sullivan would be too happy about me stealing his girl."

She smirked, her fingers drawing away from my leg, the press of her drawing back from me all together.

"Poor boy," she said.

"So that's it then, you won't teach me?" I said.

"Oh I will train you, Hotspur, but now it will only be swordplay," she grinned, "A shame, you should know I'm an excellent teacher. We kage-musha are well trained in 'all' the arts."

I had no idea how serious she was. "Thank you," I went with instead, "And just to be clear it doesn't have to be anything fancy. I'm not trying to become a sword fighting ninja, all I need is to know how to swing one without stabbing myself or cutting an artery."

"That's good, because I'm not a ninja," she said, "Ninja are idiots in Halloween costumes playing pretend. The last true ninja died by the hands of my grandfather during the war."

Okay. Good history lesson.

She got down from her barstool. "In three days, go to Palmisano Park. 2 AM, at the pond. Wait for me there. I will teach you what I can." She started away, then stopped with a smoky glance over her shoulder. "And Hotspur? My Sullivan is not the jealous type, and neither am I."

Uh. She sauntered away and I had to swallow the lump in my throat. Behind me Yeti roared with laughter, smashing his skillet sized hand down on the countertop.

"Like I said kid, Baby Girl Kusanagi," he had tears in his eyes, "She's more woman than you're ready to handle."
>>
If I still had thoughts about Baby Girl teasing me I tried not to think about them as I made my way home. If nothing else I'm a loyal boyfriend and I don't think Ayesha and Ivy were interested in adding another complication into our relationship. Not that Baby Girl seemed interested in a relationship. I was not thinking about it as I landed in my hideout, got changed, or swung by Luis' place. I wasn't thinking about it at all as I walked in, and bumped hard off the shoulder of a thug.

Looking up into the frown of a heavy set black man with the squashed in face of a pug, I backed up into the aisles where D-Mark, sorry, DeMarcus was pretending to stack shelves but was actually keeping a weather eye on what was happening at the til.

"The deal I made with Royos says I don't get taxed," Luis said, "This is a deal we had for ten years."

"Deals with Royos are being renegotiated."

I knew that silk smooth voice. LeSean in a nice suit, a gold pin with a small silver skull in his lapel, smiled at Luis the way a crocodile might at a gazelle.

"We understand this change in relationship might be off putting to some independent merchants, and its why we're forgoing a collection on back payments."

"Back payments?" Luis looked about ready to have a stroke, "Listen here, pal, I don't give a shit if you're Al Capone back from the dead. I run a respectable business and I'm not going to be extorted by a two bit pimp."

LeSean wasn't fazed. When was he? "Now, now Luis, there's nothing two bit about my pimp game," he said, "And we don't care how respectable you might be. Pay up, or sell, or do whatever. But you have to pay. We don't mind you going out of business. We don't mind this place turning into another Jewels. We only mind when those who should pay, don't."

"The Latin Reapers tried standing over me," Luis said, "The Outfit tried standing over me."

"The Outfit, yes, those old dinosaurs in Italian shoes," LeSean said, "We're dealing with them. And as for the Latin Reapers, I'm afraid their Reaper has carried them home. You can deal with them instead, if you want, but you'll need to have a chat with Mr .45 first."

"Yo," the heavy set thug said. Mr .45 himself.

Luis squared up. I never knew Luis to scare, and he didn't scare now. Maybe he should be, maybe he should back down.

Or maybe I should do something to back him up, even out of costume as I was.

>step up for Luis here
>stay out of it
>(write-in)
>>
fuck, I forgot Kusanagi was the major's last name
>>
>>6098461
Hmm, I think we have two options
1. Pay for Luis and take back the cash when we beat them up later.
2. Sit back and beat them up later.
Anything else won't help much, what do you guys think?
>>
Wait, didn't Ayesha's mom mention a LeSean who was into some shady shit? Is this Ayesha's uncle?
>>
>>6098461
>step up for Luis here
Hold up our phone and be prepared to bolt
How about you fuck off or I'll send this recording to the cops, LeSean. You talk too much.
>>
>>6098479
I would rather not bring unwanted attention to our civilian identity, why do you think an escalation is a good idea in these circumstances?
>>
>>6098464
I assumed it was a reference lol
>>
>>6098461
>stay out of it
Luis doesn't owe anything yet right? He said he was forgoing back payments. He just needs to find a new source.
>>
>>6098461
>>6098466
>stay out of it but if things get heated then try to play peacemaker
Gonna sleep so this will be my vote.
>>
>>6098461
>step up for Luis here
>(write-in): Warn leSean that if he harasses Luis hotspur will come after his entire gang.
>>
>>6098480
Luis has always had our back when we needed it. He even stepped in to save us after Salamander was beating us to death.

The whole reason we became hotspur in the first place was to protect the decent people in our community from organized crime.
>>
>>6098461
>step up for Luis here
>"There's no need to, man! I could talk with Mr. 305 here. People say I'm quite charming, tho that depends on who you asking."

If Luis or one of the guys are going to say or name we interrupt them before LeSean get butthurt after we fuck his friend up. And also try not to get too flashy, we might need to really tank a couple of punches to sell it before they see it suspicious some teenager can easily beat the shit of Mr 45.
>>
>>6098497
That doesn't contradict anything I said. I never said to leave Luis to the wolves, I said to pick our battles. The present circumstances aren't good for a confrontation since it would bring unwanted attention to our civilian identity.
>>
my brain is mush but I'll write up the next update
>>
My brain is mush and I did not write up the next update. kicking my own ass here though, trying to get it done.
>>
>>6099037
No worries QM, thanks for keeping us updated.
>>
my brain is mush and family drama isn't helping BUT I found the attempt at a Red Wizard spin off in the archive: https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5043544/#q5045606
>>
>>6099696
Take your time, we aren't going anywhere
>>
I wasn't just going to sit back and watch someone threaten my friend, even out of costume. I started toward them.

"Don't do it," DeMarcus muttered, but I ignored him.

"Yo!" it was as good a thing to say as any to get their attention. LeSean cocked his head to one side, giving me an amused grin, while Mr .45 let out a deep sigh. "Why don't you back off Mr Ortega, or I'll back you off."

"Really," LeSean said, exchanging a look with Mr .45, "Now that's a community spirit I can admire, but boy you are taking a step in a bad direction."

"Easy kid, I can handle this," Luis said, now for the first time looking nervous, "You don't need to worry about him, LeSean, he's just some punk kid."

"LeSean is what my friends call me," the flashy gangster said, "My friends. You could have been my friend, Luis. Instead you can call me Mr Hall." Then LeSean gave me more of his attention, a careful eye that ended in him going 'hmmm'.

"You've got a boxer's weight to you, boy," he said, "Tell you what, survive a round with my man and I'll give your friend Luis here another week."

I was ready for that. Ready for anything. I looked over Mr .45. He looked down on me.

"No, no, not that one," LeSean said. A toilet flushed out the back, and another thug came out from the staff toilet, doing up his belt. Stink. I hadn't seen him in months. Stink and I were the same age but he didn't look it anymore. He'd lost the weight and switched baggy clothes for a tighter fit, a small beard grown on his chin. It gave him the look of a man. He carried a gun in a shoulder sling now. It was a disappointing sight, seeing a sparring partner from the gym rolling deep with a scumbag like LeSean.

He flashed a look to his boss.

"Freddie here. You'll fight Freddie."

Stink looked back to me. "Long time no see, Ric." He didn't seem happy about it.

"Oh, you know each other? Good, that's good," LeSean said, "Now what do you say kid. Think you can last a round with our young gun here?"

>Fight Freddie, without powers
>Fight Freddie, with powers
>Back out of the fight
>(write-in)
>>
trip on
>>
>>6100323
>Fight Freddie, without powers
Silver lining, if we get the reputation of a kid who picks fights it'll explain why we're always injured.
>>
>>6100323
>Fight Freddie, without powers
>>
>>6100323
Also
You're really gonna do Coach like this Stink? Working for the Haitian? Makes me fuckin sick.
Get him pissed, making mistakes.
>>
>>6100417
>>6100355
ok!
>>
"Okay," I said, "But it sucks we gotta do this, Stink. What would Coach think, seeing you working with slime ball gangsters."

"Slime ball gangster, how comic book," LeSean said, adjusting the pin in his lapel.

"Eric can run some hands, Mr Hall," Stink, Freddie, said, taking off his coat. He gave his piece to Mr .45.

"Good. I like a fair contest," LeSean said.

"Not in my shop!" Luis snapped, "You take this outside!"

LeSean shrugged. We followed him out. Smokey was standing out there already, standing in front of a 'Vote for Haywood' poster. A couple people walking by slowed to watch. Mrs Valdez's daughter walking her son Javy. Hector. A bunch of folks I didn't know.

Stink rolled up his sleeves. "No one calls me Stink no more," Freddie said.

He loaded up his fists, squared up the way Coach Jackson had taught us. I matched him. Using my powers I could make chump change out of Freddie, leave him coughing up teeth. Without...he was bigger than me, stronger than me, and had been training a lot longer than me. Freddie was a heavy weight in every sense.

But it was more fair than doing it the other way.

And I could take him.

I think.

A crowd was gathering, a car slowed to stop. More eyes than I wanted.

Didn't matter.

"Let's go then," I said.

And Freddie fired off a jab.
-
>roll 3 x 1d100 DC 75
>no modifiers as Eric isn't using his powers and Stink is a better boxer than him
>>
Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>6100429
Inb4 shit rolls
>>
Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>6100429
If he's the better boxer and should have better chances I'd recommend DC 85
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>6100429
ARGH THE NAT 1 PRINCE DONT KILL HIM
>>
>>6100439
and that's a fail
>>
>>6100442
Nonsense, Eric is just using the homer simpson technique of taking the strikes of his enemy until they tire themselves out. A bold strategy Pen.
>>
I caught it on my arm, ready to fire my own back, when his follow up caught me in the gut. A right hook to the gut. A cough broke out of me and I was lucky to duck the cross firing for my jaw.

"Hey stop that!" someone yelled.

Another jab from the bigger, meaner Freddie. I ducked it and threw a spear jab under his ribs. It got a grunt out of him. But my right cross he caught with a hand parry which rolled into a flick jab that might have crunched my nose, if I was an idiot. I weaved back.

Freddie had that look on his face, the intent Coach Jackson had drilled into all of us. A winner's intent. It wasn't personal, but it was intense. He dropped into a peekaboo stance, slipped my next jab, and the one after that, before throwing an upper cut that collected me in the ribs. Threw the second for my chin but I caught it with a hand parry of my own as I ducked back. I swung a back hand as I did, catching him across the cheek.

Then my back hit the wall and I realized I had no place to go.

I tried ducking and weaving my way out, up until one caught me on the eye. Everything went a little fuzzy and numb. Then the next hit my nose. Everything behind my nose went numb. Something warm ran down my lips, copper on my tongue. I felt more than saw the next punch gunning for my head. I ducked it, heard Freddie bark in pain where his fist hit the wall, then looped a desperate haymaker.

My knuckles crunched into his forehead and my arm hurt down to the elbow.

People were shouting.

The whites of Freddie's eyes were wide, and I tensed before the uppercut even landed. My legs became jelly. Couldn't hear anything except a funny whistle. World in front of me was see-sawing. But I kept my hands up, pushed Freddie back.

"Finish him up, Frederick," LeSean said, "We've got business in Bronzeville."

I stepped into the next punch, catching Freddie on the bicep while driving a punch into his guts. More leaning on him really. It winded him some, not enough to stop the cross that took my feet out from under me. Hitting the cement hurt less, it helped I knew how to fall.

Freddie stood over me, puffing, blood trickling from a cut in his forehead. He reached down a hand to help me up.

"What are you doing?" LeSean said, "When you got a man down, keep him down. Finish him. Paint the cement with some brain matter, boy."

For a minute it looked like even Freddie didn't know what he was going to do. Then that offered hand clenched into a fist.

"Sorry Eric," he said.

A rush of power ran through me, to clear my head, to move if I had to.

But before the fist could drop a gun shot went off. Someone screamed, someone ran.

It was Smokey, gun in the air. "That's enough of that," he said.

Mr .45 reached for his piece but LeSean stopped him.

"I know you," LeSean said, "I thought I knew you. Gunsmoke, right?"

"Is jus' Smokey these days."

There was no clowning on Smokey's face. His face was as dead as LeSean's.
>>
"Yea, yeah, you used to run with another banger. What did you call yourselves?"

"Deuces Wild."

It was DeMarcus said it. Not DeMarcus, D-Mark. He came out of Luis' shop totting a shotgun still wearing his smock.

"Yeah, yeah, they say you merked Papa Igbo and the High Rollers in Detroit. Cleaned them out before disappearing off the map."

D-Mark racked the shotgun. "Mighta been, mighta not, never proven either way. Wanna find out?"

LeSean grinned. "You boys should come work for me. My boss could find a place for a couple of legendaries like yourselves."

"Not interested."

"Haitian can eat shit."

"And I got a job any how."

As they talked Mrs Valdez's daughter, Maria, got me up.

No one moved. Mr .45 had a hand on his gun, undrawn. Freddie stood uncertain. LeSean kept grinning. The crowd had run with the gunshot. It was a finger twitch away from bodies dropping.

"Ok folks, shows over."

It was Luis now.

"We don't need none of that around here," he said, "You want to tax me? Fine, but you leave these boys alone."

"You can forget that back pay being forgiven," LeSean said.

"Whatever you want," he said.

"See now, did we really need to make things so dramatic?" LeSean said, "There'll be someone around tomorrow to collect."

As he left he stopped to stare at me. Like looking at a particularly irritating cockroach.

"Come on, Frederick, let's go."

"You too now, Eric," Maria Valdez said, walking me back toward the apartment.

My head hung low. It hurt too much to hold it up.
>>
I'll be back in a bit with the next update
>>
Dad was not exactly happy with me.

"It doesn't stop."

Carmen pressed an icepack to my forehead. The swelling was already going down.

"School is back tomorrow."

I could see out of my left eye, but it hurt.

Frankly there was no guarantee these bruises would even still be there tomorrow. I mean, they probably would be, but maybe they wouldn't.

"You could have gotten someone killed."

That hurt worse than the stinging cuts on my face. It hurt because he was right. Someone could have been killed. Luis, Smokey and D-Mark, an innocent bystander like Maria or her baby boy Javy. Some innocent stranger I didn't even know the name of.

"They could have followed you home. Isn't that why you wear a mask?"

And he was even more right about that. The thought of LeSean sending his thugs into our home. To do who knows what. Murder might be the least of it.

"Did you stop thinking the day you got your powers?"

"Okay Joe, he gets it," Carmen said with a flash of anger.

Dad frowned.

"You used to think things through, Eric," he said, "I can't stop you from doing whatever you're going to do, but please be smarter about it."

He was right, he was right, he was right. It was annoying how right he was. I didn't say nothing, just glared at the toes of my shoes.

It wasn't fun getting whooped. It wasn't just the pain either. It wasn't fun. You'd think I'd get used to it, but it wasn't the sort of thing you ever wanted to get used to.

My hand hurt from where I'd hit Stink in the head.

Seeing him run around with the Haitian's men...he wasn't a friend exactly but still I felt like I'd failed him somehow.

Failed the city. If it wasn't some kind of para-criminal it was the ordinary ones chewing up the streets. Same as they always had. And on and on it went. No one to stop them but the most corrupt police department in the country. Criminals and supervillains and who knew what nameless horrors, stalking the streets at night making a meal out of the lives of ordinary folk.

Someone had to do something.

>but not tonight, not with the first day of school tomorrow
>I had to get out there, bust some heads, remind them whose city this was
>>
>>6100502
>but not tonight, not with the first day of school tomorrow
Like I said, no mundane crime stopping otherwise we won't get anything done.
>>
>>6100502
>but not tonight, not with the first day of school tomorrow
Yeah we shouldn't have picked that fight
>>
>>6100502
>but not tonight, not with the first day of school tomorrow
We can't always do this. Even heroes need a breather.
>>
>>6100503
>>6100511
>>6100789
okay!
>>
As itchy as my fists were, as angry and humiliated as I felt, Dad was right at least about somethings. I needed to calm down, think things through a little more. Not every problem needed a fist thrown into it. And with school tomorrow did I really need to walk in burned out and even more beaten up?

Take a night, get some sleep, heal up. Deal with my problems tomorrow.

When I went to bed though, I reached by instinct for a fuzzy little head that wasn't there waiting for me.

Mangy. My cat. A weird feeling came over me as I looked at the spot on the bed she should have been curled up on. I sat on the bed and put my hand on the spot, curled my fingers up in the blanket as if it were her fur.

Got to be smarter about things. Think things through. There was a lot to deal with.

The room was empty for the absence of her purr.

A lot to do.
>>
this next update is going to take me a minute to write and post. please be patient with me

I've been rereading the quest over the last week or so to help me refind its voice and switch me back in to various themes and subplots. I've made a couple of continuity errors in the mean time, though I don't think anything major.
>>
Skateboard off the wall and tucked under her arm, Ayane took the steps three at a time coming down from her bedroom.

"Ayane-chan!" her mother called from the kitchen, "If you're going out, remember to wear a helmet!"

With a dull hmph Ayane scooped a helmet off the coat rack. Once she was out the door though, she dumped it on the lawn. Out of the front yard she threw down her board and kicker her way down the sidewalk. Ever since she'd come out of the hospital her mother had fussed, especially if she was going out to skate. She was surprised the old woman hadn't tried to keep her from going out altogether.

Ayane had missed most of her summer in that hospital.

Gliding down to the skate park with the wind running against her, for a second Ayane could forget all about that. Anthrax pumped from her air pods. The living dead girl, happy to forget.

When she reached the park she heard the metal clink of scooters on rails, a gang of boys doing tricks in the bowl. Scooters. She didn't try to hide her contempt.

She wasn't looking for company anyway. She kicked up her board, walking up to the half pipe. Others were there, the real ones.

Ozzy Mo had cut his knee stacking it and was getting it swabbed by Pig, dabbing at it with an alcohol soaked cotton swab. Ozzy hissed at the torn skin. Naz was kicking it on the half-pipe.

"Yo, look who it is!" Ozzy said, kicking at Pig, "The preppy princess down from her tower!"

Ayane pulled out an airpod and gave him the finger. Like Oz's dad wasn't in finance.

"Sup," Pig said. Pig was genuine white trash, and proud of it.

Naz hadn't noticed her turn up right away. She got some lift and hit a 180 spin. Hitting the ramp, kicking up speed, she came up the other side with a 360, hijab tied up tight to keep from flying off. Nasim was cool, Ayane didn't mind. If anything she admired her focus.

"Haven't seen you," Pig said, "Been a minute." Pig glanced at her bandaged left arm but said nothing.

Ayane shrugged.

"Family trip back from Japan?" Oz asked, "Naz is just back from Qatar."

"Nah," Ayane said. It was the first thing she'd said all day. She got up the half pipe, waved to Naz. Naz slowed to a stop, nodded back.

It had been a minute. Since before her...anyway. Naz went to hang with Pig and Oz, giving Ayane the pipe. Standing on the lip of the pipe, she put down her board. It had been a minute. But fuck it.

She dropped in.

The buzz of her board beneath her, the wind building up with her speed, rolling up the edge, weaving down. Building up momentum for the moment she could get some lift and break free of gravity for a second. It was the closest thing to forgetting, breaking gravity. She got up speed, going up the side, wind whipping back her hair. Get some lift. Break free.
>>
WELL THAT'S FUCKING WONDERFUL

I LOST A WHOLE THIRD OF A POST BECAUSE THIS FUCKING WEBSITE DECIDES TO FRITZ OUT MID POST


REALLY FUCKING GREAT DAY TODAY

bare with me while I try to fix this massive fuck up
>>
>>6101159
RIP
That's why you always prewrite in notepad or some other text editor
>>
She hit a 180. Nice and easy, a golden flush running through her as she crouched low and gripped the board, the clack of the wheels when she came back down on the half pipe. Kicking up speed, she went again. A 180 wasn't good enough.

Again the lift, higher now, free for a second from the pull of the earth. She crouched low on the board, spun in the air. A clean 360. She rose up when her board hit the pipe. Not good enough.

The words of her old coach drilling her across the balance beam. You have to be better than good. Good wasn't enough. You have to do more than have fun. Fun wasn't enough. Perfect. She had to be perfect.

Higher, more speed, a better lift. Had to get higher. Had to nail the 540. Had to do better than Ozzy or Pig or Naz. The dried up old Olympian who had never won her own medal drowned out the Deftones in her ear.

Had to be better than better. Do it again, properly this time.

She kicked up speed. She got the height. Higher. Yes. Yeah! This was it! Floating high, get low on the board. Get the right turn. 180. More. 360. More. She had it, she nearly-

CLACK

CRASH

Her board hit the rim of the pipe and she went sprawling, rolling end over end until she lay still.

Not good enough. Not ever good enough. She put a hand through her mop of black locks, hurting worse from failing than from any pain.

"Yo, you stacked that shit!" Ozzy laughed. He and Naz tried helping her up. She shook them off, bitter in her mouth.

"It happens," Naz said.

"No shit," Ayane replied, stalking over to her board. Snatching it up, she considered ramming her own face through it.

Not good enough.

"Don't," Pig said, "Chill. Give it a minute before you get back up."

She looked up at him glaring, but slowly nodded. Pig was right. Pig was always right. He was the zen master of the skate park. He'd been the one taught her how, letting her use his own board until she'd got her own. Pig had a lot of wisdom.

"It's okay to skate out some anger," he said, "But its not okay if skating's the thing making you angry."

"Yo freak!"

Great. The call had come from the scooter losers, who were starting over toward them.

Pig looked up.

"Yeah, we're talking to you, freak!"

Pig was called Pig for a reason. The explosion had changed him, left him with a pink pig's head with a pair of little tusks. Ayane had always known him as Pig though. Ozzy and Naz had known him before. He didn't say nothing as they got close.

"We don't like freaks in our park," the leader of the scooter losers said.

"Get lost," Naz said. Pig stayed quiet.

The leader smiled at her. "Shit, I didn't think Muslims fucked with pork. Your imam know you're a pig fucker?"

"Back the fuck up," Ozzy said, raising up his board.

The scooter losers laughed. There was about seven of them. No way they were winning that fight.

"We don't like freaks, and we don't like freak fuckers," the one girl in the group said, "Hey China Girl, you fucking the pig too?"
>>
"She's Japanese," Ozzy said, like it mattered.

"She's a suicide case, you try to kill yourself or something?" she said, pointing at Ayane's bandaged wrist with her chin.

"No," Ayane said, "I didn't try. I did kill myself."

She peeled back the bandage to show the scar. Long and vertical down her wrist, still purple at the seams.

"I was dead for three hours. Woke up in the morgue."

Living dead girl.

The scooter losers didn't know what to say to that. No one did. "Yeah well, do a better job next time!" the loser leader said, but it had taken the fight out of them. They skulked off. Now Ayane threatened a smile.

Until Naz slapped her in the back of the head. "What the fuck, you tried to kill yourself? Is that where you've been?"

"Hospital, yeah," she said, "And I told you, I didn't try. I was dead for three hours."

"That's impossible," Pig said.

Ayane shrugged. "This is Freak City, right? Must be my super power."

It was only Ozzy asked, in a scared voice, "Why?"

Was there a good answer to the question? She shrugged. "Why not?" she said, "You guys all know what life is. Take a look around." The green pleasant park, birds in the trees, the sun getting low in the sky. "It's all on its way out. May as well check out early before its gone."

"Okay doomer," Naz said. But however sarcastic her tone, her eyes were wet. She pushed Ayane. "Don't fucking do it again."

"I will, but not because you told me to," Ayane said.

Awkwardness ensued.

"We're going to hit the spot for some 'za, you down?" Ozzy asked.

Ayane shook her head. "I need to skate while there's still light out."

"Meet us there later though?" Naz asked.

Ayane shrugged. "Fine."

Living dead girl. That was her. And she still felt dead, somehow. Ever since she woke up. She hadn't slept well, not without the pills the hospital was hesitant to give her. Weird dreams. Dreams that didn't stay dreams but followed her around. A black sun and a red sky.

Stupid. She got up to skate.

Daylight was dying, the park was empty. When she stopped she was sweating, bleeding a little from the knee. School was back tomorrow, she should get home. Or meet Naz and the others. Do something.

Instead she sat, tucked her knees under her chin. Felt the cold wind ruffle through her sweaty mop of black hair.

She'd died but couldn't remember it. Maybe there was nothing to remember. Nothing after. Why should there be? She got up with her board.

A hiss behind her.

She spun back with the board raised.

It skulked low. What it was didn't make sense at first. A dwarf, shoulders round with fleshy, pulsing mounds. A rat face jutting from a misshapen skull. It sniffed, and when it sniffed it made a hiss.

Her throat tightened. She didn't feel dead anymore. Terror at the strange thing.

"Yes," it said, "Yes, yes, you are the one. Master wants you."

"What the fuck..." she choked out.

.
>>
"Master wants your secrets," it said, "Yes, the key to his work." The tumors on its shoulders pulsed. It smiled.

And before she could scream something snagged her ankle. From behind she was jerked off the ground and off her feet. Tipped upside down she swung, staring into the lipless grin of a hulk, gripped around the calf by the fleshy red tentacle that hung from its wrist. It cocked its head to one side, clacked its tongue on its teeth in its lipless mouth.

And said.

"Living. Dead. Girl."

She screamed.

But not for long
>>
back tomorrow
>>
Ooh
Cliffhanger
Spooky Cliffhanger
>>
>>6101185
Is there blood on her skin?
Is she dripping with sin?
>>
Summer was over and we were back at school.

Miss Flores dropped me off at the gates before swerving away for teacher parking. At school she was Miss Flores.

We were all gaggling around the gates, not too desperate to get back to class. No one commented on my black eye or the cut on my forehead. They were used to me being beaten up.

There was one person I was desperate to see. "Hi, hero," Ayesha said, breaking from her talk with a new teacher at the gate.

She had gone for the preppy look today, sweater vest and pleated skirt with tall socks. I had her around the waist before she could stop me, went for a kiss she playfully pushed me away from.

"Down boy, down!" she laughed, "I missed you too."

Then, and only then, did she give me that soft, slow kiss made me want to go find a storage closet somewhere and forget about school.

"Sorry I got you in trouble with your parents," I said, breathing in the smell of her.

"Oh Dad is way more furious with you than me, and Mom is even worse," she said, still playful but not joking. Damn. I like Ayesha's parents. "But unless they really want to go nuclear, they can't stop us from being at school together."

"Nothing can stop us from being together," I said.

She curled her face into her own shoulder to hide her smile.

"Goddamn, I think I just caught diabetes!" Rufus rolled up with Tim, looking like he might vomit, "Did you really just whip out that greeting card bullshit? Fucking kill me."

"Don't mind Roof, he's just jealous 'cause his girl left him," Tim said, slapping his pal on the back.

"Man, I left her," Rufus said.

"Sure thing, buddy."

It was good to be back with my friends from the basketball team, I hadn't seen either of them in a minute. We were all keeping an eye out for friends, wondering if anything had changed over the summer. Then my blood ran cold when I saw Zeke slink up.

"What's up, homeboy?" Rufus said, "You been missing."

"Yeah, heh, stuff with an uncle came up," Zeke said. He had a wounded dog kind of look to him. Ayesha drew closer to me when Zeke went to say hi. No one was supposed to know about his attempt at terrorism. I don't know what he was even doing back at school. Shouldn't Ms Grant have him stashed in a safehouse somewhere?

"Hey guys," a girl came up. An Asian girl I don't think any of us knew. Long legs with a glossy black bob cut, a clear face with cheeks that caught a glow, and playful pretty eyes. Rufus scoped her out, rubbing his chin. "Um, I said hi?"

"Hello," Zeke said, "Uh, do we know you?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's me, Annie. I know its been a second. I've been at summer camp."

No. No way was that Annie. Annie had pimples. Annie was a scrunched up gremlin. But maybe...there was something in the face...

"Uh, hi, yeah," Rufus stuttered, "You uh, you look good."

"Oh well thank you."

That...didn't sound right. That was way too nice.
>>
"You fucking idiot!" A voice from behind the Asian girl and the real Annie strolled up grinning. "I told you these racist idiots would fall for it!" Annie, the real Annie, our Annie. Maybe her pimples had cleared a little, but they'd left acne scars, and her hair was a mess. "Hello losers, long time no see. This is my cousin, Peony. Her name is stupid but she isn't. She's starting with us this year on account of...ah you'll find out."

Peony clenched her eyes shut. "Sorry, Annie thought it would be funny."

"And it was funny," Annie insisted, "Now any of you jagoffs seen Chad or Ben?"

Ben arrived with Hunter, both looking about the same. "Dougie Hicks said-" Hunter was saying.

"Dougie Hicks doesn't know shit about shit," Ben said.

"He was right about the frogs!"

"Yo Annie, is that your cousin? Hi, I'm Ben and this maroon is Hunter."

"Ben! I've heard so much about you!"

"Uh, hi," Hunter looked down on Peony with a fidget and a bit of fear.

"You seen Chad?" Annie asked.

Ben shrugged. "I thought he was coming with you."

"I'm right here guys."

"No, he said he was getting here early and I had to pick up Peony," Annie said.

"Yeah, I'm here. Right here."

"So that means he-"

"Is already here?" he said from behind us.

Now I had thought he was a new teacher. And thought, was he trying to pull the same gag as Annie? But that was Chad's face on the 6'3 frame, built like he was the first string quarterback, pimples long gone. The stares he got made him blush. Peony scoped him the way Rufus had scoped her. But no one stared longer than Annie, her face slowly growing pink.

"We were just talking about the advanced physics course this year," Ayesha said.

"The fuck happened to you?" Hunter said.

Chad shrugged. "I started using the weight room at camp. It was the only place that didn't set off my allergies. Then I had a growth spurt. Is it really that noticeable?"

Annie kept staring. For a second she looked like she might start crying. Then she stomped her foot and said, "Fuck you!" and stormed into the school. He stared after her now, confused and even more awkward.

"It's...nice to see everyone..." he mumbled, confidence wilting in the familiar Chad like way.

Rufus couldn't stop laughing, right up until the bell that chimed us all to class. He laughed right up to home room, tears in his eyes.

Mr Nfume was setting up his desk. So he was our home room teacher this year.

It was there that Nasim ambushed Ayesha. "I need to talk to you," she said, grabbing her elbow and pulling her away to the back of the class. She didn't look like she'd slept. "No, not to you. I need to talk to your boyfriend."

"Eric?" Ayesha said.

Nasim shook her head. "No, your other boyfriend. The one who rescued you. The superhero."

"Hotspur."

Nasim nodded. "A friend of mine's gone missing, we think she's been kidnapped."

"What happened?"

Ayesha guided Nasim to sit, face bright with concern. Nasim looked ready to collapse, and slumped in her chair.
>>
"Yesterday, we were at the skate park," she said, "Up in the north side. We weren't meant to grab a slice after but she didn't show. She didn't go home either. She's...Ayesha, I'm really worried."

"Have you talked to the cops?"

Nasim nodded. "They're waiting for a ransom demand. My friend, her sister is that reporter, you know, the Japanese one? Priscilla Takanawa. Ayane, my friend's name is Ayane. And she's...she's a freak. A parafreak I mean. So it might not be a ransom, you know? It could be...she might not even...still be..."

She looked ready to start crying.

"Oh Nasim, I'm so sorry," Ayesha squeezed her hand, but over her shoulder glanced at me. 'Did you catch all that?' her glance asked. 'Yeah,' I said with the clench of my jaw. "I'll reach out to Hotspur," she said, "Don't give up hope. He's never let me down."

"She's my...my best friend, Ayesha," Nasim said, looking hollow from the depths of her hijab, "If she's hurt, I don't know...I don't know..." Then she stuffed her face into her hands, trying her hardest not to cry.

>Go now. Make some excuse and go. There was no time to wait.
>Better to wait. People were suspicious enough about me already.
>>
>>6101555
>Go now. Make some excuse and go. There was no time to wait.

The red wizard, had been talking about about how the druj and its servants had been violating the boundary's of the gulfs and psychical world.

The necromancer could be playing on using her to summon some type of monster or abomination.
>>
>>6101555
>>Go now. Make some excuse and go. There was no time to wait
Abductions are always a ticking clock
And with Paras in the mix that clock could ticking a whole lot faster
>>
>>6101555
>Go to the bathroom and get in contact with Fire Watch. Tell Dog Brother and anyone who's good fighting to go and track the girl using some dog who's good following scent.
>Tell we're occupied with daily life stuff, there's no need for them to get into trouble, but if things get out of control or there's something wrong we'll sneak out of what we're doing and we go to help
>>
>>6101555
>Go now. Make some excuse and go. There was no time to wait.
>>
>>6101575
>>6101567
>>6101593
let's go but going to throw in: >>6101577
calling Dog Brother for an assist, since its a good idea and utilizes an ally
>>
>>6101555
Para issue so we gotta intervene... call Firewatch to help since this is really time sensitive so the more help we get the better the odds of rescue.
>>
A girl been kidnapped? My pulse kicked up a gear. There was no time to wait. Every minute lost was the difference between someone brought home safe or found in a dumpster. I shot Ayesha a look said, 'I'm going' she shot me one back said 'go get 'em'.

Mr Nfume though was another problem. Getting up to go he hit me with a hawk glare.

"Leaving class early is not a great way to start your junior year, Mr Miller," he said, "Particularly with your attendance record."

"Sorry sir, but my dad's been in an accident," I said, waving my phone, "He's working construction on the Dan Ryan, his boss says he's been taken to Mount Sinai. You know I wouldn't ditch if it wasn't serious."

His glare turned to concern. "Do you need someone to drive you there?"

I shook my head. "Someone from the crew will pick me up."

As lies went it was a pretty good one, if a bit manipulative. Mr Nfume shooed me off with a wave. It was kind of scummy, lying to Mr Nfume on the first day back to get out of class. It was scummier to do nothing. I fired a text off to Dog Brother, asking him to meet me. A sniffer dog would help with a missing person. As I was typing though I got shoulder checked on the way out.

"Sorry," Kaylee said.

I looked up to my ex-girlfriend. She was wearing one of Misfit's spare jackets, had tied her hair back into a pair of braids that hung down her shoulders. We paused in the same moment.

"We need to talk, when you have a minute," she said. She glanced into the classroom. "I mean, there's something I need to say. But...you're going somewhere?"

"Pretty quickly, yeah."

She sighed, nodded. "Yeah, that stuff. Okay. But we really need to talk." She looked tired, sounded tired. But she wasn't my problem anymore. Still, if it was important we could talk later.

Right now though, I had someone to rescue.

I hadn't gone far before I switched to using my powers to cross the distance to my hideout. Getting changed, Ayesha hit me up with the info. Wilson Skate Park, in Uptown near the Lake. She sent me a picture, of both the park and the girl.

Ayane Takanawa had dark hair shaved short at the sides and long in the front, falling over a pale wide face with freckles on the bridge of her nose. There was something unhappy in the set of her mouth and in her stare.

Ayesha - This is Ayane. Her sister is Priscilla Takanawa. Nasim says she tried to kill herself not long ago. Or maybe did but didn't die? She's distressed. It's all a bit confusing.

Me - Thanks.

I forwarded the address to Dog Brother before launching out of my hideout and up into the sky.
>>
Frankly this was all a little relieving. Rescuing a girl been kidnapped was a simpler problem to face than most I ended up handling. All we had to do was find her, beat up the dude holding her, get her home safe to her parents. Clear cut, black and white. My life had been getting too complicated lately. Something simple was a nice change. Which didn't mean it wasn't, you know, dire or serious.

It was as serious as it got.

Wilson Skate Park. It was nice. Could really breathe in the fresh water smell of the lake, a nice amount of greenery around. Birds twittering. It was a place to waste some time. A couple of old skaters were out but for the most part it was empty, thanks to school being back in. One pointed when he saw me and they waved but didn't come over.

So this is where she'd last been seen. Half pipes, bowls, and rails to grind on. I'm not a skater by any means but it was a good set up. Dad used to skate, I think. Back in the 90s.

A text.

Dog Brother - woof woof

I looked up to see him shuffling across the park, a couple of dogs in tow. One was a German Shepherd with a scarred muzzle, the other a squat pitbull. Both off leash. Tucked into the folds of his coat, silver furred Layla stuck out her one eyed face.

Dog Brother is a funny guy. Homeless as much by choice as circumstance, he was a black kid not much older than me with a messy afro and a nervous tick. He kept his face covered with an old Sox scarf. He had an ashy, unwashed quality that wasn't helped by his smell.

But there were few people less heroic in the whole city.

"G-good morning," he said. He pulled an old slice of Hawaiian pizza out from his deep, deep coat pocket. Took a bite. "We um...we uh...got a maiden need rescuing?"

I nodded. "Last night, her friends say this is the last place she was seen."

"You uh...you got uh any th-thing with her s-smell on it?"

Damn, that would have helped.

"It's n-not magic, Spur," he said, "The dogs n-need to know wh-what they're looking for."

"Yeah, shit, of course," I said, rubbing my head. Seemed obvious in hindsight.

"Yo!" one of those skaters now. He was an old head white guy maybe near forty, came over with his board over his shoulders. "Hey, you two aren't here about the missing Chinese chick, right?"

"She's Japanese," I said, "But yeah."

"Sorry, yeah, Japanese," he said, "We've seen her around. She's pretty okay. Never talked to her, saw her skate though. She ran with Pig and his friends? Yeah, with Pig. The cops arrested Pig for it, for questioning anyway. Ironic right? Pigs arresting a pig."

I had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

"At least they're holding him," the skater said, looking from me to Dog Brother, "It ain't made the news yet though, but we talked to a reporter earlier. She was Japanese too. Didn't think there were that many Japanese people in Chicago but, shit, you can find everyone here, right?"
>>
He was rambling, eating up our time. "Sorry, shit. Sorry I heard you say you needed a scent or something? Only."

He took the board off his shoulders.

"This is her board, man. We were holding on to it for Pig, or her, whoever showed up first to get it. I don't think Pig had anything to do with it. He's a good kid just wants to skate."

I looked to Dog Brother. "Will this do?" I said.

He took the board. "P-perfect," he said, and held it up to his coat.

Layla gave the board a good snuffle.

I looked at the picture of Ayane on my phone again. She really did look like her older sister.

>While Dog Brother was working, ask anyone around for more info
>While Dog Brother was working, look around the park for clues
>(write-in)
>>
>>6101644
Ask the guy if he could ask around quickly then go look for clues.
>>
>>6101644
>>While Dog Brother was working, look around the park for clues
>>
>>6101644
>While Dog Brother was working, look around the park for clues
Put those super senses to use. Drag marks in the dirt, signs of a struggle, something left behind by Ayane.
>>
>>6101554
>She didn't look like she'd slept. "No, not to you. I need to talk to your boyfriend."
>"Eric?" Ayesha said.
>Nasim shook her head. "No, your other boyfriend. The one who rescued you. The superhero."
>"Hotspur."
Oh god
It really is obvious isn't it

>>6101644
>While Dog Brother was working, ask anyone around for more info
These guys seem pretty cool and helpful
>>
At the risk of sounding like an edge lord, does spending time in our civilian identity and doing things like going to school make sense when the stakes are continuing to rise and we're being increasingly obvious about our identity?
>>
>>6101708
>Oh god
>It really is obvious isn't it
Nasim is more referencing the fact Ayesha is (or was) the #1 Hotspur fangirl who got him to investigate the Creep then was later rescued by him from Houndmaster

Nasim has no idea its Eric.

>>6101659
>>6101698
>>6101649
activate super senses, looking for clues
>>
I had not much else to do while Dog Brother conferred with his dogs, so I took a gander at the trees.

If she'd been taken I doubt it was from east, there was only water out that way. Not saying it was impossible though, just didn't seem likely.

There was a tower with lights, for skating at night I guessed. Looked like a watch tower almost. I jumped up halfway, grabbed a rung, then leapt up to the top. It was a good thing I'm not scared of heights. Not anymore anyway. Perched up there I scanned the surrounding park.

It was a good place for a vantage point, looking over the tree tops, over the streets. A hospital one way, the lake the other. South was some kind of football field, kites flying behind it catching the wind. North was more park, nice place for a picnic. Didn't seem like the kind of place girls got snatched from.

The wind was cool off the lake. Senses expanding, I looked further. The hospital was called Weiss Memorial. A Walgreens next to it. An apartment block next to that.

Quiet kind of area. Dogs were yipping on the wind. A dog park by the beach, bored owners keeping an eye on them while they raced around. A hotdog stand (my belly growled).

Had to see past the literal. Sight beyond sight.

I closed my eyes, reached for the fire inside me.

Opened them.

Black vines grew thick across the grass. They choked the park, strangled the trees. Swollen red thorns dripped a vicious mucus. The sky had a red glow. I avoided looking at the sun. A black miasma rose from the thorns, some kind of foul mist. It swirled around the bowls and ramps.

A silver light kept the black mist at bay. Dog Brother, silvery light flicking off him and his dogs, holding back the ugliness around them.

But not just him. A weaker glow came from the skaters hitting the bowls. The cheers, the jeers, the sympathetic laughs when one of them stacked a move and got back up again.

I'd seen the light before, from other people and other things. Maybe it was goodness. I don't know.

But it glowed strongest from the board Dog Brother was carrying. Love. Maybe that's what it was.

"G-got something!" Dog Brother said, slipping his Layla out of his coat.

I dropped down from the tower. The little silver dog sniffed and snorted at the grass.

I let the visions of the other world fade. Whatever had happened here, it was evil.

She snuffed and snuffled through the grass towards the tree. Gave a yip, tail wagging.

A blue converse shoe. Dog Brother picked it up, stashed it in his coat.

"Good girl, now keep going," he said.

She set off again, flanked by the shepherd and pitbull, me and Dog Brother following. Her tail up, she broke into a run toward the road. We jogged after her, crossing a street and into another park.

She'd stopped at a manhole cover, tail wagging fast, growling and yipping. The big dogs with her boofed.

"S-sewers," Dog Brother said, "B-bad stuff in the sewers th-these days."

>nothing badder than you and me, we go this
>Dog Brother can hang back, I got this
>>
>>6101754
>Dog Brother can hang back, I got this
Once we clear areas if we still need tracking we can bring him down
>>
>>6101754
>Dog Brother can hang back, I got this
Can we still call more people than Dog Brother? This is why I wanted other members of Firewatch too, what's the point of having this team if we can't call upon them as they did us?
>>
>>6101773
>This is why I wanted other members of Firewatch too, what's the point of having this team if we can't call upon them as they did us?
I'm going to be frank here.

Pressing the 'call everyone' button and having them all show up isn't going to happen, not unless its super important. Misfit sent out an SOS because she was in the middle of fighting for her life against a powerful supervillain. One missing girl is unfortunate, but not 'save the city' important. Every member of Fire Watch is having their own adventures that have nothing to do with Hotspur, which are just as important and dire as what Eric is dealing with.

But also, I'm not interested in writing the Avengers. I like team ups more than team books. You have a collection of people you can call up for help, don't start mashing the 'call everyone' button.
>>
>>6101778
Not everyone QM, just someone.

Everyone should've been when the super dangerous mcguffin was being stolen by that merc not, like you say, when some girl gets kidnapped.
>>
that came out harsher than I meant it

as for waiting for another hero to show up to assist, it goes against being time sensitive here. other than Thunderchild every other hero takes a lot longer to get around the city than Hotspur, and the sewers aren't a great place for Child's skillset.

not saying 'no', just saying there could be consequences for delay.
>>
>>6101789
Which is why I wanted to make the call at the start. Anyway, we could do it, go in and then have Dog Brother guide them to us when they arrive? Spitballing here.
>>
>>6101754
>nothing badder than you and me, we go this
>>
>>6101754
>Dog Brother can hang back, I got this

Dog Brother doesnt seem like the kind we really want to bring into a fight. Especially after Mangy died.
>>
>>6101754
>Dog Brother can hang back, I got this

I feel we should get in contact with Shark, maybe calling someone from the Farmhouse to tell hims to look out for us on the sewers, and make sure he stays out of the sight of anyone. We won't wait for him, but give him a heads up so we can expect him to come as support, or if things get ugly and the ratmonster escapes, then he would be a awesome tracker and of course fighter
>>
>>6102077
>>6102086
>>6101773
>>6101762
ok, we're going alone
>>
"You hang back, I can handle this from here," I said.

"A-are you s-sure?" Dog Brother said, "W-we're a team. I g-got your back."

Dog Brother was a lot of things. Strange, nervous, and forever awkward, but he was no coward, and in all ways a true and loyal friend.

"It's cool. But keep your burner on you. If I need a rescue I'll holler."

"Heh, okay," he said, and offered me a fist bump.

Before long I had the manhole cover open and was down among the muck.

Not my first time in the Chicago sewers, I had a light in my hand to light the way forward, boots sloshing through filthy gray water. I tried not to think about what squished beneath my step or washed up around my ankles. Last time I'd been down here it had been to guide a band of refugee parafolk to safety, hunted by the Humanity First militia.

Now I was the hunter, stalking this murky underworld in search of a fair maiden. That's what Dog Brother had said. Off to rescue a maiden.

There was no quest more worthy of an ashavan, rescuing a fair maiden from the clutches of evil. That thought in my head. Arash was stirring. Shut the fuck up, I thought. It was hard telling my thoughts from his and I didn't need the distraction.

It would be easier with Dog Brother and his little Layla, sniffing out her trail, but I didn't want to risk either of them. Other than his ability with dogs, Dog Brother was a normal guy. When the fighting started he was as like to be someone else I needed to protect. Another distraction I didn't need. And after losing Mangy, even a dead dog was more than I wanted to deal with right now. I'd never forgive myself if Layla didn't make it out of the sewers.

Crouching low until my knees sunk into the water, I looked for clues on Ayane's abductors.

There was only really one way to go. I started down the tunnel, ignoring the bloated little rodent body that floated past me. Every few minutes I could hear the splash of waste water entering the system and did my best to avoid any pipes in the walls. Really, it was only marginally worse than taking the pedway.

It was when the tunnels narrowed I started to worry. Maybe a year ago I'd have squeezed through more easily, but my shoulders had broadened, so wedging my way through was far from comfortable. Nothing about this was comfortable.

White light showed ancient graffiti sprayed across the walls. 'Fuck Marc Trestman' in faded red letters above 'And Fuck the Packers!'. Chicago is Chicago, even underground.

My nerves tightened though, on the sound of a deep groan. It was so dark down here, with only the light in my fist to see by. Every sound jumped off the walls to echo out a haunting tune. The pipes were far from quiet, the slime itself seemed to drool on the walls. And there were things down here, new things born out of the Explosion.

>maybe I should be more careful, and shut off the light
>nah, no point, whatever lived here probably already knew I was here
>>
>>6102130
What is being asked here? Whether we run or we walk? Regardless, I vote to boost our sense of hearing if the sewer is in total darkness and boost sight if it isn't.
>>
>>6102152
its a choice around caution and approach
>>
>>6102130
>>6102162
>maybe I should be more careful, and shut off the light
Hmmm I prefer caution.
>>
>>6102130
>nah, no point, whatever lived here probably already knew I was here
>>
>>6102130
>maybe I should be more careful, and shut off the light

Maybe we can rely on our super hearing.
>>
>>6102198
>>6102165
going with this
>>
If the goal here was to just fuck up some bad guys, I wasn't worried about going in guns blazing. Let them know I'm coming, let them be scared. But I was here to rescue an innocent girl, with no clue who might have snatched her. The wrong move could see her throat slit or worse. Caution, better be cautious.

I opened my fist to dissipate the light, and opened my other senses instead. Boosting my smell was no fun, I gagged right away, turning it right back down. My hearing though...

Sounds came dripping in. The plock of a droplet into still water. The scurry and chit-chit-chit of a rat. The crinkling sound of small bugs crawling over crumpled paper. And a drone from far above, more vibration than sound. A train.

I'd walked a long while and now somewhere above me a train shot by, setting a rumble through the dark. Hand to the wall I stepped with care.

No kind of boosted eyesight let me see in the pitch dark, but I took off my goggles and the little light that filtered through turned the pitch dark tunnel into a pre-dawn gray world, more shape than detail.

One step, two step, careful not to trip. Making my way along, a hand to the wall. Orpheus in the underworld.

My foot squished something foul. Then something that crumpled with a tinny noise. Old coke can. Had to be more careful. My own heart beat seemed too loud of a sudden.

Bad shit down here. I could feel it. Like the tunnels themselves contracted, a great set of lungs breathing in and breathing out. My mind playing tricks on me. Bad vibes. The mist, the dark mist from above, swirled at my feet and I couldn't tell if it was real or my second sight leeching through.

Listening. Hearing the rush of water in pipes, spewing out to slop into the subterranean river of filth. Cities were filthy animals.

Kept walking. Listening.

A scuff. Something moving. Talking.

"...brain...kept my mind...but you...brainless retard..."

A harsh voice. I clung to the wall.

Light ahead, a lantern.

It hung from a heavy shoulder. No, it hung from a thin clawed hand, but what held it clung still to a heavy shoulder. A rat-like thing perched on the shoulder of a half-skulled hulk. They could have been of one flesh, if the rat-thing didn't skitter to the other shoulder, sniffing the air.

"Can't smell nothing through the puke," it chittered more to itself than its companion, "Stinking city. Should never have come. Ohio, back home. Blue skies! I remember!"

The hulk couldn't talk. It had no skull above its eyes, only a flat plane, most of its skull gone. It had two long arms, orangutan long, that swung the length of its legs, and two more sticking from its chest, dinosaur like. Those little hands held a sub machine gun.

As unsettling as their appearance was, it was made worse by their nudity, showing every misshapen joint and ugly lump on their deformed bodies.

I'd seen something like them before, though none as intelligent as the rat man.

Bio-ghouls.
>>
"Up there. Pretty little things to fuck. But Master won't let me fuck! Snatched away my manhood. Why? Why? For touching pretty little thing's thigh?"

Spittle flew from its muzzle as it shook its lantern.

"Let me keep my brain, let me keep my need, but took away my instrument. Cruel master, cruel!"

The Flesh-Smith. It had to be. A foe of Ironclad, known for abducting people from the street and using his powers to transform them into his grotesquery of bio-ghouls, slaves bound to his sadistic, psychopathic will.

I'd had one run in with him already. Once was enough.

But if this patrol was guarding his hideout, he must be close.

>stay hidden until the guards passed
>strike! I had the initiative here
>>
>>6102220
Wait for them to pass then do a one-two combo of grabbing the rat and a cross to the hulk's head.
>>
>>6102220
>strike! I had the initiative here
better to fight them now than when we're getting the girl out of here. who knows what state she's in
>>
>>6102220
Alright this Flesh Smith is one guy we need to kill

>stay hidden until the guards passed
>>
>>6102277
Agreed, don't want to be Batman sternly telling Joker to not commit crimes against humanity again for the billionth time.

Although I find it difficult with Eric's moral absolutism on the killing issue IIRC.
>>
>>6102226
>>6102270
going to go for a combination of this.

so we're going to do a roll to see if it works!

>roll 3 x 100+20 dc 50
>>
Rolled 30 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6102296
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>6102296
inb4 nat1
>>
>>6102296
Should we roll again?
>>
>>6102320
sure
>>
Rolled 96 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6102296
>>
no fails, all successes, very nice

writing it up now
>>
I ducked back around the corner, pressing against the wall. The treading stomps of the hulk came closer, slow and dragging, the rat man continuing to bitch into its thoughtless ear.

When they turned the corner the rat man was so caught up in his whining they walked straight past me.

Fire roared up. Now was the time to strike. Now was the time to get answers.

The hulk paused at the scoff of my boot, as I spun out, but turned too slow to stop the haymaker that caught it across the chin. In the dark my knuckles detonated with a white flash. It took a step back, wobbling, the rat scurrying up the trunk of its neck.

"What-what?" it chittered.

A follow up upper cut and the hulk tipped back, legs jelly, to splash back in the thick water. Flecks of the fucking disgusting water rained over my chest. The rat splashed and gasped, tearing its mutant claws into the bio-ghoul's shoulder to pull itself out from the muck.

When it did I caught it by the neck, ripped it off its feet to glare straight into its black button eyes.

"The girl," I said.

"G-girl?" the rat gurgled.

"You're going to show me where she is."

"M-master will make a t-toilet out of y-"

I squeezed my fist around its neck, cutting off its threat into a pained gurgle.

He scratched at my arms with a pathetic whine. I loosened my grip.

"Will show, will show! Must be quick-quick to save her! Master has big plans for her! Veech knows! Master tells Veech much!"

This thing must be Veech. I wondered if he'd ever been anything else.

"You will show me," I said, "Swear it. On fire unburning."

"F-fire unburning, yes! I'll take you! I swear!"

Fire swept hot through my arm, goose flesh rising, sweat crawling down the back of my hand. A binding oath once broken would kill. Had killed already. A girl who didn't deserve it. Daphne. This creature though, I'd feel less guilt for this creature. If he played me false, let Veech burn.

I released him and he sprung gasping from my grip, running nervous fingers around his neck. Did he have some sense of what I'd done.

He looked back the way he'd come, cheek twitching.

"Follow me," he said, scurrying away.

And I did.

Down into the dark.
>>
back tomorrow
>>
>>6102338
>"M-master will make a t-toilet out of y-"
eugh
>>
>>6102338
tfw a scientist villain with an immensely versatile super power could cure cancer but deep down what he really wants to do is steal women, your manhood, and make a toilet out of you. Power is a hell of a drug I tell you what.
>>
"Here, here!" Veech the rat man said, hopping up to a wall, "Hidden passages, from long ago! Master is smart, knows the Capone ways!"

With a touch to a panel the wall opened.

An old bootlegger's tunnel, looking like a gilded mineshaft. The tumors on the rat dwarf's shoulders pulsed and he gave me a nervous look. He was a different kind of bio-ghoul than the ones I'd run into before. They'd all been mute, mindless flesh puppets. A green glow throbbed in those pulsing tumors that rounded his shoulders.

Who knew what else he could do. But the thing was a coward, and would do as I told so long as the oath bound him. Maybe some part of his warped nature gave him an insight into what breaking an oath with an ashavan would do. Maybe I was too trusting.

Currently I don't think I have much choice.

He scurried ahead. The sewers and its stink was soon behind us.

Before we got far, the sound of light chamber music came down the tunnel. We entered a crossroad, a honeycomb of doors leading in each direction. From above, too. The roof was holed like a wasp's nest.

Something wet rose its head from the center of the room. A dog, with a second head welded to its neck. Not...not a dog's head. Long red hair fell over the nervous pale face of a middle aged woman, harrowed eyes full of terror, but a mouth unable to move except twitch. Next to her face the head of a doberman stared.

Steel blades glinted from its paws, its tail a bone whip covered in spurs.

"Shhh, shhh," Veech said, his tumors pulsing again, "Veech keep the guard bitch quiet for you. See? Veech keep his word."

"Most master's slaves are stupid. Not Veech. Master needs helper, someone can keep others in line."

Veech snickered and gave the red hair a tussle.

My guts roiled.

The chamber music kept playing, with it voices.

"Alls we need is a few of your creatures and we can wipe this uppity moulinyan off the map."

"Why should I care about the internecine bickerings of Chicago's underclass?"

A bored, aristocratic voice.

"There's money in it for ya, Mr Flesh-Smith sir, and maybe more than money. We get control the import market, you don't gotta make do with whatever bums you find wandering around. We can get you prime grade pussy straight from Asia, North Africa, where ever!"

I glanced around the corner. The Flesh-Smith sat in a long hall. A twenties looking place, like it might have been the hottest speakeasy in Prohibition days. The color red dominated in the drapes and the carpeting, and in the red cushions Flesh-Smith lounged on.

He smoked a thin tailor made cigarette, looking all the world like an actor from the height of golden Hollywood, with his thin moustache and square jaw. A Turner Classics kind of face, he looked like someone, but I dunno. Mom would have known, she'd liked old movies. A pair of bio-ghouls crouched either side of him, as attentive as a pair of loyal hounds.
>>
He spoke with a squat, balding man in an Italian suit, standing before him with a hat in his hands. Not alone, this guy had a couple of tracksuit thugs with him. None of them were comfortable being guests of the mad villain.

"Was it not the Outfit attempting to form some grand coalition of organized criminality?" Flesh-Smith said, he didn't bother to hide his contempt, "Now you come begging for my help against your rivals."

"Its been hard since Rooster went away," the gangster said, "And that bitch DSA, may she get cancer of the eyes! She's put away some of our friends on the city council now too."

"Oh how unfortunate," Flesh-Smith said.

"We could be good friends, you and me," the gangster said, "Help us get Chicago back and you'll see what a good friend I can be."

I was not under any illusions about the honor of criminals, but this was a new low even for the Outfit. Things must be going very bad in their war against the Haitian.

"You misjudge my interests, Mr Ferrara," Flesh-Smith said with a withering sneer, "'Prime pussy', my interest is not so base as to be sexual. Nor are my ambitions limited to being some king of the sewers."

"You gotta want something, everyone wants something," the gangster said.

Flesh-Smith smiled. "The desires of the eagle cannot be understood by the ant."

Veech tugged at my sleeve. I'd listened too long.

"This way now," the rat faced ghoul said.

I followed him down a side tunnel. Down, literal, and heard the movement in the tunnels around me. Things that were dragging and clawing their way through the strange hive Flesh-Smith had claimed as his home.

We came out into a cellar, half of it turned into some serial killer's pet pen.

And there she was, lying on a bench behind steel bars. Ayane Takanawa.

She'd been stripped down to her underwear, a matching black set of sports bra and boy shorts, with the paleness of her skin almost ghostly in the dark. The only other thing she had on was a single blue converse shoe. I tried not to linger on her athletic figure. Tried not to look at anything but her half asleep face. An eyelash twitched. When her eyes half opened her mouth puckered up in disgust at the sight of Veech.

With a tired groan she propped herself up, glaring. "What now?" she said, her voice raw.

"See-see, I take you to her," Veech said, snivelling up to me.

Ayane's attention switched from the rat-thing to me. She swung her legs down from the bench to sit upright.

"I know you," she said. She looked me over. Frowned. "You're shorter than you look on tv."

>My name's Hotspur, I'm here to rescue you
>If you're going to take 'that' attitude, maybe I'll just go
>>
This Veech is really useful, good thing we grabbed him.
>>6102808
>If you're going to take 'that' attitude, maybe I'll just go
Obligatory quip.
>My name's Hotspur, I'm here to rescue you
>>
>>6102808
>If you're going to take 'that' attitude, maybe I'll just go

"Well Princess I couldn't fit my white steed through the manhole."
>>
>>6102808
Well excuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me, princess

>My name's Hotspur, I'm here to rescue you
>>
>>6102842
>>6102812
locked in
>>
Okay. Okay not digging the attitude.

"Sorry I couldn't fit my white horse down the manhole cover, princess, but if you're going to take that attitude, I'm just going to go."

I turned to leave, pretended to anyway.

"Wait!"

I looked back. A moment, just a moment, of real horror crossed her face and for a moment, just a moment, I felt like a massive jerk for pulling a gag on her. She gripped the bars like they were the only thing keeping her up.

"My name's Hotspur," I said, "And I'm here to rescue you."

This I meant, and she nodded with a deep and relieved sigh.

"Right, Hotspur," she said, the horror gone though her voice still shaky, "Sorry, this has been a weird day."

The girl could understate a situation. I pulled her lost shoe out from my jacket. "Thought you might need this," I said, slipping it through the bars to her. She pulled it on, tied it up. Now she was wearing a pair of shoes and only her underwear. She stretched her back. I looked somewhere else, an imaginary Ivy and Ayesha glaring at me.

"My hero," she said, pulling her foot back behind her for a quad stretch.

"The deal is done," Veech said. He was crouched by the entrance, a flash of a sinister grin split his face. The bulging tumors began to throb with a greenlight. "Now back-back to my master. And he shall reward me for this, give me back my cock!"

His lips pulled back to show dog-like canines, whites of his eyes growing to swallow his pupils.

Fuck.

>knock Veech out before he can warn Flesh-Smith
>draw my sword...and kill him.
>>
>>6102868
>draw my sword...and kill him.
if I were permanently morphed and brainwashed into a rapey little homunculus I'd rather die
>>
>>6102868
We still have a use for him as a guide so grab him and use the Ashavan powers to have him guide her to safety unharmed out of here and then.come back to us. Do that so we can kill the Flesh Smith in the meantime, I have the distinct feeling we will be unable to do so unless we do it right now.
>>
>>6102868
>draw my sword...and kill him.
Yeah this is more of a put him out of his misery situation than anything
Flesh Smith gives fates worse than death
>>
>>6102918
>>6102888
time for Eric to discover some of his killing intent

locked in
>>
>>6102868
>knock Veech out before he can warn Flesh-Smith
Eric doesnt need to dirty his hands with this life.
>>
>>6102951
Now that is a bad reason to not immediatly kill this vermin.
>>
Ironclad told me once that when Flesh-Smith worked his power on someone, there was no turning them back. No saving them from the prison of flesh he'd made of their own bodies.

I don't know who Veech had been before Flesh-Smith had got his hands on him. I don't know if he'd been a good man or bad. All I knew was what he was now, the strange misshapen creature full of hate and misery.

There was only one way to free him from his prison.

I'd never killed a human being before. Whatever twisted shape he'd been perverted into, he'd still been a man once.

Light filled my fist, then blazed forth a sword of white fire.

I'd never killed except that lilitu, and was that really killing? It had been a thing of the other world as much as this one. Was I crossing a bridge here?

Veech's face grew long in terror.

Put his little clawed hands up, tumors pulsing.

"Please!"

Evil cannot create. Only corrupt. Pervert what was once good.

My throat closed tight, my hand held high. I had never done this before.

Veech trembled.

Make it easy, please. Make it easy for me.

Tears, he had tears.

Quick, before he summons his master.

Even a foul thing like this had fear for its life. Clung to it.

Do it!

My blade fell hissing. Too fast for Veech to make more than a sharp frightened pip before his head came apart, split from dome to neck. It felt like nothing but a slight pressure down my arm. He crumpled, hitting the dungeon floor before shrivelling up like a dead spider grabbing at himself. From the wound and between dead eyes wet with tears, a clear smoke rose with the stink of burning flesh. He was dead.

I'd...I'd killed him.

"Good riddance," Ayane said.

I put a hand to my mouth. A queasiness ran over me. Good, that's good. Killing shouldn't feel good, even something...someone like Veech.

"Now are you going to-" Ayane started.

I spun and drove a fist into the bar of the prison, smashing it out with a rain of dust from overhead. Ayane shut up. The fire in me burned hotter now than ever. Hot with rage. Rage for Flesh-Smith and his crimes. Rage for what I'd done. My body shook with rage.

She slid out through the gap of the missing bar. Hugged herself. She did a good job hiding her fear.

"We need to get you out of here," I said.

"Mmm, and here I was enjoying my stay."

I put the sarcasm down to nerves and tried not to get annoyed. God knows I can be a sarcastic motherfucker.

Ayesha had a word she really like and had taught me one time. Susurrus. It was like the whisper you heard coming from another room. Or not a whisper but a sound, a soft unintelligible sound that teased your ears. That was the word popped into my head. A susurrus, from behind the walls.

>grab Ayane by the hand and run, all that mattered was getting her to safety
>there was another job needed doing here, stay and fight Flesh-Smith
>>
>>6102972
See, this is exactly why I wanted to keep Veech alive for a little longer. This is quite the conundrum.

Perhaps there's a good hiding place she can stay in?
>>
>>6102972
Ask Ayane what she wants. To get out of here or to tear Flesh Smith a new one first. Eric's a little too pissed to be thinking straight right now and she's the on who was kidnapped.
>>
>>6102972
>grab Ayane by the hand and run, all that mattered was getting her to safety
wtf bros hotspur is losing it. first the "joke" about ditching Ayane and now this. this isn't how hotspur operates
>>
>>6103006
Calm down anon, that WAS a joke. But Eric is being a pussy about killing some rapey rat goblin yes.
>>
>>6102972
>there was another job needed doing here, stay and fight Flesh-Smith

>>6103006
I agree the joke was in bad taste, but I also agree with >>6102888. I'd want to die if I was turned into something like that, and who can tell if his fear of death was genuine or if Flesh Smith had built him with an excess of self preservation so that he wouldn't find some way to off himself? Now Ayane should be able to follow our path in to escape since we took out the guards. That's one person saved. Who knows how many others will fall victim if we don't stop Flesh Smith here and now while we have the chance? How many more Veech's will he make?
>>
>>6103012
there could be others. she can't find her way out. you can't seriously be advocating for ditching her. hotspur is not a radical utilitarian and would always prioritize protecting the innocent in front of him
>>
>>6103012
>>6103014
Which is why I suggest we find her a hiding place. That way she can be safe while we take care of the Flesh Smith
>>
just found out a relative of mine passed away

we weren't super close so I might be back tomorrow, but I need a second to process some things
>>
>>6103028
Very sorry to hear that
Take all the time you need
>>
I don't usually vouch for any one choice but if you're undecided about what to do, the write in here is pretty good: >>6102980
>>
>>6102972
>>grab Ayane by the hand and run, all that mattered was getting her to safety
Fighting the fleshsmith in his lair, where he presumably keeps all his creations, without backup seems like a quick way to die. If we are going to take him down getting the girl out and calling for backup, firewatch and ironclad, is most definitely the way to go. Hopefully we can still take him by surprise without being trapped alone in an enemy fortress. Fuck it call in the protectors and let them deal with it, let them work for their paycheck ( or not Dood will just try to recruit him)
>>
>>6102972
>Hey guys what's going on-
By the Pope, wtf did we do? This will not make dad proud, nor keep Parahuman PR in the green
>Take her hand and get out, getting her out is all that matters.
>>
>>6102972
>there was another job needed doing here, stay and fight Flesh-Smith.

The flesh smith wanted to experiment on Ayane, his mindless slaves aren't goin to kill her without permission.
>>
>>6103022
that's still leaving her alone in the middle of the worst possible place she could be right now
>>6103117
they would still recapture her
>>
mercy killing a little goblin is a little odd for Eric but not completely out of character for him. in a way it's a natural progression, like why would we want to train to use our sword if not to kill or seriously maim someone? but leaving a terrified girl alone in the middle of literally the most evil villains lair crawling with literal monsters is so far out of character that it shouldn't even be in the conversation. have you people even read the quest?
>>
>>6102972

>grab Ayane by the hand and run, all that mattered was getting her to safety
>>
>>6103133
Brother, it was obviously a JOKE, no one was really thinking of leaving Ayane, literally the sister of that cute reporter who Eric had a crush on but also one of his first supporters leave her there, even less after finding all the crazy shit this super villian does with people.

A bad taste joke? 100%, but don't be this dumb to think it was even an option. You can even tell it's a joke with anons response of it being kinda smug and sassy, come on now

>>6102972
>>6102980
+1

Tho I feel we should first

>Get out of that supervillian lair
>Try to get some signal to call Dog Brother over and send a couple of dogs to extract Ayane out of the sewer, maybe give Ayane our jacket so the dogs could get not only Ayane smell but our own

If every milimiter inside this plays there are bodyhorror abominations crawling into every pipe inside this place, it's better if we secure Ayane before getting her in some trouble
>>
>>6103213
this is what I'm arguing against when I mention leaving Ayane
>>6103022
>>
>grab Ayane by the hand and run, all that mattered was getting her to safety

this seems the major winner.

sorry that life is derailing things a little. now I have another family member sick in the hospital. hopefully this one doesn't die.
>>
>>6104140
Jesus man, the curse really is coming after you hard
Best wishes for your family
>>
>>6104140
>>6104167
Yeah, this is the second time a family member of a QM whose quest I read has died in like a week?

Hope things ger better QM.
>>
Whatever I felt about Flesh-Smith. Whatever I felt about what needed to be done to him, Ayane was my first priority. Getting her out of here, keeping her safe. That's what mattered.

I took her by the hand. It was only then I could really feel what a livewire of fear she was. She was thrumming with it. The fact she was keeping her cool at all was impressive.

"Can you run?" I said. She nodded. "Hold on tight. I won't leave you behind. We'll get you home."

She swallowed. Nodded again.

"Ready?"

"Let's go!" she said, squeezing my hand.

I drew my sword and, because the moment took me, did a little flourish before pointing it back the way I'd come. We'd cut our way free if we had to. Out of this nightmare and into the light of day.

"Follow me!" I said, and gripping her hand, charged.
-
>ESCAPE THE FLESH-SMITH'S LAIR!

>roll 3 x 1d100+25 dc 75
>>
Rolled 27 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6104189
inb4 nat1
>>
Rolled 48 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6104189
Btw QM, are you never gonna use your trip again?
>>
>>6104195
Maybe
>>
Rolled 6 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6104189
Goddamn, please, I don't wanna fuck it up...
>>
>>6104199
Fuck me.. HOOOOOOW?!?!?!
>>
>>6104199
Its joever
>>
THERE IS NO ESCAPE

AHAHAHAHA!

don't worry, this isn't a single pass/fail encounter

and failing can be fun!
>>
We ran, my sword a blazing torch in front of us.

A hideous yipping laugh broke out to my side and I swung without looking. It lunged at me with a weeping woman's face, the dog-ghoul, and my sword snapped it out of the air, sending it smoking to the ground with a dying yelp. It shook on the ground only to spool apart in a puddle of loose skin and organs. Some how the stink was worse than the sight of it.

Our grip tightened, Ayane backing up into me.

The ground beneath us shook. It filled the corridor in front of us, a slap of pulsing muscle, long greasy ropes of muscle hanging from its wrists, bellowing from a lipless mouth.

"Living. Dead. Girl!"

It charged down toward us, the whole tunnel vibrating. Ayane grabbed me by the back as it swung its arm to slam those ropes of flesh down toward us. I swung my sword while diving toward it. One of the ropes snipped off with a smoking hiss as I landed on the greasy stones, Ayane thumping down on my back.

It stomped closer on rhino hoof feet with a gurgling growl. Feet big enough to stomp my skull into pieces. I rolled over, getting Ayane beneath me, grabbing her around the waist, the fire of my sword held up.

"BACK!" I yelled. It hesitated. I jabbed the sword toward him. "BACK! FIRE BAD! FIRE BAD!"

"fuckmefuckmefuckme" Ayane murmured under my chest.

It hesitated, than its dull eyes narrowed and it opened up its lipless maw to let out a wet scream, more high pitched than I expected, stabbing right through my ear drums.

The dungeon shook around us, the susurrus in the pipes rising to a shriek. The dungeon itself seemed to be coming alive.

We needed to get out of there.

I dived low at the bio-ghoul's trunk thick legs, sword cutting. It tore through mutated muscle like it was jelly, leaving behind a smoking trail and a train of black spots. It turned to follow, slapping down the stump of its severed leg onto the stone, tipping forward.

But it wasn't dead, and it didn't seem in any pain. Instead it crawled after us. And as it did, things started to appear from the walls. Fleshy digits that became fingers, then hands, reaching out to grab at us. And behind those fingers, faces. Faces twisted into hideous expressions, a grotesque fear and pain beyond logic and understanding.

Men, women, children, reaching out with voiceless mouths stretched out to scream.

"Run. Run. Run. Run!" Ayane repeated, still holding my hand but breaking out in front of me. She was a fast runner, without my powers definitely faster than me, and for a second our grip almost broke.

"No shit! No shit! No shit!" I repeated, pulling her back to my side as my power fuelled legs pumped me back to the front.

We turned a corner that should have been the exit.

Did I take a wrong turn?
>>
I didn't have time to think when the corner of my eye twitched. A blur of speed and the bio-ghoul spun out of the dark at me, bright white arm bones for blades jutting from its forearms. Its cut caught the front of my jacket, opening the outer layer but leaving my undershirt untouched. It cut for the arm holding Ayane.

I spun her close as I spun around myself, blade twisting around in an arc.

It spun away, its chest opened up by my slash.

My heart pounding, I gasped into Ayane's hair as she panted against my chest. I backed up, pointing my sword back the way we'd come.

"Fuck me," I said.

"Interesting."

The cool, urbane voice of the Flesh-Smith.

I looked around for sight of him.

From the wall the features of his face emerged.

"Hotspur," he said, "I wondered which of Chicago's little heroes would be the first to arrive."

He looked around, face flat, even bored.

"This is new, a sword? Fitting. Henry Percy was a knight of some renown. It's only right his namesake should be the same. Though, fitting too, that Hotspur fought a king and failed. And now you face me, as true a king as nature ever made."

"You talk too much!" Ayane spat from under my chin.

He smiled. "The pretty little corpse," he said, "Tell me Hotspur, do you really think that's Ayane Takanawa you're rescuing? The real Ayane Takanawa?"

"She's right, you do talk too much," I said.

"The real Ayane Takanawa, or should I say the original? The original died in a bath tub some weeks ago. That is something else."

Whatever. I looked around for an exit.

"No...that's not..." Ayane said, "I am me."

Flesh-Smith's smug grin. "Child, you don't know what you are. Neither do I. What a mystery. But we can solve it together."

"Don't listen to the jagoff," I said, "These guys just love listening to themselves talk."

"What do you dream of, child?" Flesh-Smith said, "Do you dream of the dark sun, and the blood red skies?"

"Shut up!" Ayane said, gripping onto me with white knuckles.

We had to get out of here. He'd gotten under her skin. I wasn't going to let that become literal.

"There is no escape," he said, "Not for you, not for anyone. You are all prisoners. Only I have the key. The key to liberation, a liberation from your rotting, decaying cage and the oblivion that awaits you beyond!"

"I ALONE CANNOT DIE!"

The walls...wobbled. They gruelled a thick mucus, and from them great hands began to emerge.

"AND YOU, LIVING DEAD GIRL, YOU WILL BE THAT KEY!"

I held Ayane tight. She whimpered in my arms.

There was a way out. I knew it in the core of me. Some how I knew.

I let my sword die. I drew all my fire together. Together into one point.

Into my fist.

And I drove it down, hard into ground.
>>
The stone shattered beneath us. It gave way but as it did we gave way too, gravity pulling us down. A scream went up. I wasn't sure if it was me, Ayane, or Flesh-Smith, but wind whipped my hood back as together Ayane and I hurtled down the shaft. Down fast.

Down into the underworld, with Flesh-Smith left shrieking in the dark above us.

Down into the unknown.
>>
there's a lot of going down in this part

going to need to switch it up soon

anyway I'll be back either tomorrow or the day after
>>
>>6104295
What a cliff hanger.
>>
not promising anything, but let me know if there are any specific characters you'd like to see more from in the future
>>
>>6104368
we haven't seen slamander in a while.
>>
>>6104368
Thunderchild and the rest of Fire Watch, maybe Nemesis and his gang
>>
>>6104368
the french thief whose name escapes me
>>
>>6104368
Definitely Salamander
THE STRONGEST

>>6104465
Foxtrot?
>>
>>6104477
Oui. Our future toxic rebound after our throuple implodes
>>
>>6104368
I kinda wanna see more of everyone. Given the lapse of time between this and the last thread, I'm eager to see how the characters have evolved in your mind.
>>
I'm in a pretty terrible mood today but I'm going to try to pump out an update
>>
My leg was broken.

I found that out the second I stood up. The pain shot up my shin with a cold blister. My leg gave way and I was lucky to thump against the wall rather than hit the ground. My powers numbed the pain enough to help me stand, but every step was a moment of agony I had to force myself through. Even the pain numbing ability of my fire had limits.

It was too dark to see until I lit a light in my palm, soft white light giving shape and color to my immediate surrounds.

Ayane lay crumpled on the floor, on stone slick with a greasy moss. She didn't move. I didn't know where we were, but it wasn't a sewer. Some kind of natural cave? I didn't think they had any under the city. Ayesha had told me once the city had layers beneath it, from the pedway down there were old sewers and tunnels all built atop each other over the decades, with urban legends abounding about what lay beneath each one.

Some say there are ghosts down here, of the miners and engineers killed in constructing the old freight tunnels.

There was a time I didn't believe in ghosts. I knew better now.

Ayane still hadn't moved.

Blood washed her face and for a second...but no, she was breathing, the source of the blood a small cut to her forehead. Nothing bled like a cut to the face. I moved her to her side, to the recovery position. She gave a soft moan, and I was strongly aware of how little she was wearing, how slender she was in my hands. I tried not to touch anything inappropriate, but everything felt inappropriate when all she had on was her underwear.

Save her life and worry about what's decent later. My girlfriends wouldn't care if it was about keeping someone alive.

Blood had stuck her hair to her forehead. I combed it back, and when I did her eye half opened.

She stared at me through a slender gap.

Then slowly got herself up.

Other than the blood on her face she was okay. A dark bruise forming on her thigh, a scraped knee and elbow.

But when she tried to get up she lost her strength and fell into me. With my broken leg the weight of her knocked me down and we went sprawling onto the greasy rocks, her landing half on my chest, half in my lap.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she muttered, "Head is...fuzzy."

She might have a concussion.

"Are we...safe?"

I might have laughed. What the hell does safe mean?

"Will he...is he coming after me?"

Flesh-Smith. I looked up into the dark. If he was coming he was taking his time, though I doubt he'd given up. He didn't strike me as the type who gave up on what he thought belonged to him.

"Are we going to die down here?"

That was a thought. I didn't know how to answer it. Even if Flesh-Smith didn't catch us, I had no idea where we were or how to get out. Starvation could do for us long before Flesh-Smith could find us. If we couldn't find a way out.

Hunger was starting to nip at my belly already. Ayane shivered, I didn't know if from pain, cold or fear

>give her a hug
>give her my jacket
>give her words of encouragement
>>
>>6105473
>give her my jacket
>>
>>6105473
>give her my jacket
>>
>>6105473
>give her my jacket
>>
>>6105473
>Give her the jacket
>>
>>6105473
>give her my jacket
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eMuRnKrUSiE
>>
>>6105478
>>6105548
>>6105601
>>6105631
>>6105668
locked in
>>
I thought about saying something to pick up her spirits. But what was there to say? The psychotic body horror villain would just give up and let her go? That everything was going to be all right, and good would triumph over evil? It would be nice to say it. It would be better to believe it.

Slipping off my jacket, I draped it around her shoulders. It was about the best I could do. Her shivering settled as she gripped the collar. She looked up at me. I'm not the biggest guy but my jacket hanged heavy off her shoulders.

"Sorry, thought you could use another layer," I said.

She shook her head. "It's ok, I'm not cold. Just completely terrified," she said with a dark laugh, "But thanks, Hotspur. Thank you, I mean it." She shivered again in the jacket, before leaning on me.

"It's stab proof," I said. I picked at my spider weave undershirt, "Don't worry about me. This is good for stopping anything short of a .45."

She nestled into the depths of my jacket.

"Dog Brother will be looking for us," I said, and was certain it was true.

"He's one of your friends?" she said, "Sorry I don't really follow the para-freak thing." She rubbed her face. "Even though I'm a freak too. Or, I think I am. Living Dead Girl, maybe that can be my freak name."

"Maybe," I said. I didn't like the way she was throwing around the word 'freak'. When she said it all I could see was a gang of men, the Humanity First Militia, holding down a crying little girl, shaving off her hair while spitting the word at her. It cooled my blood some.

Then Ayane's finger was on my forearm, tracing a scar.

"Cool," she said. I pulled my arm back. "Sorry." She poked her arm out from the depths of my jacket. "This is mine, only...only mine was self-inflicted." A long scar down her forearm, still with the stitches showing along the raw purple line. "Stupid, right?"

I'd never known anyone tried to kill themselves before. No, that's not true. Dane had told me he'd tried, only nothing had worked. If everything I'd heard was right, Ayane's attempt had been a little more successful.

"I don't know why I did it," she said, staring moodily into the dark, "Only maybe I was just thinking I'd take an early exit. World's ending anyway, why stick around for it?" Her laugh was dark, dark and sad, "Guess I don't have a choice now, huh? But it was selfish of me, maybe. I really...hurt my sister." She wasn't crying, but her eyes were wet. "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this. Not your problem, right?"

Ayane scrubbed at her wet eyes before they could become tears, forced them back under an impassive mask. Went quiet. We were both quiet in the dark.

"What now?" she said.

>We stay put, wait for someone to find us
>No point sitting around, search for an exit
>>
>>6105809
>No point sitting around, search for an exit
>>
>>6105809
>No point sitting around, search for an exit
Tell her the term is parafriend
Or parapal if she wants to be casual
>>
>>6105819
>>6105828
ok!
>>
I wasn't one for sitting around. Dog Brother might find us, or maybe we could meet him half way instead. And besides, sitting still in the dark seemed too much like waiting for something bad to happen.

"No sense just sitting around," I said, and flicked the little light in my palm. My own personal flash light. "Let's get out of here."

Her legs were still shaky when she got up, and mine was still broken, but I could walk with a heavy limp and a hiss.

"Hey!" Ayane ducked under my arm, "You should have said something! Put your weight on my shoulder. Come on, my dad's a doctor, I know what I'm talking about."

Ayane was barely more than five feet tall and offering to take some of my weight.

"I'm stronger than you think," she said, "I was a competitive gymnast since I was eight years old. I made the Junior Olympics team. So just trust me here, I can help."

I let her take some of my weight and it did ease some of the pain.

"Come on, tough guy. We're in this together," she said, gripping me tight around the waist.

We hobbled on, me and my human crutch, with just the light from my palm to guide us.

It was some kind of cave system we'd ended up in, a wet one at that, strong with the smell of standing water. The rock walls shaped into irregular patterns by the ancient water way that must have flowed through here, stalagmites and stalactites both making it a bitch to walk through.

Ancient, but had it existed a year ago? The Explosion had changed more than just people. Shark's island had appeared out of the depths of Lake Michigan. Had it conjured this ancient subterranean world too? I don't know. I don't know enough about geology to know. The walls were stained with a greasy moss and the floor was slippery. And it was cool down here, almost cold. Without my jacket on the air was crisp against my skin. Pleasant after the 'heatwave' gripping the city.

"You shouldn't call yourself a freak," I said, as she helped me around a tall spire of rock, "We aren't freaks. Just different is all."

She got me around it with a grunt. "If you say so," she said, "But I am a freak. There's power in it. Like, spitting in the face of the world. Fuck you, I'm me no matter what."

I stepped too hard on my broken leg and snarled, grabbing the rock spire. I'd been hurt worse but that didn't make it fun. Would be great if my healing factor worked a bit faster too. Ayane pulled me back up against her. She really was stronger than she looked.

"My dad's a doctor," she said, "Dr Ken Takanawa. He lectures at RFU. My mom is a painter, Keiko Takanawa. She has gallery showings all over the world. My sister, you know who my sister is. All of them accomplished, famous, smart. Me, I'm just a freak. No good at school, not good enough for sport. Just a burn out who can't do anything right. Can't even, can't even kill herself right. And I might not even be me anymore. I might be something wearing Ayane like an old dirty jacket."
>>
"That's what he said, up there. That I'm not me. And he knew about the dreams so maybe he's right about the rest."

"He's an asshole," I said. Black sun and red skies. There were times I wondered if I was me, or if I was Arash dressed in Eric Miller's memories. I don't know if it made a difference.

She made a tough little sniff. "That doesn't make him wrong."

No, I guess it didn't.

But before I could say more, a deep cackle caught my attention. Not a laugh but something worse, and the slap-slap-slap of bare feet running on stone.

"Hee-hee-hee!" it sprung from the dark with an alarm siren whoop, bone swords jutting from its wrists. It had been a black man once, now it was a bio-ghoul, with more coming behind it. A hunting pack.

I pushed Ayane back with a loud 'fuck!'
-
>roll 1d100+25 dc 60
>>
Rolled 4 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6105857
Inb4 another fail
>>
>>6105858
really close to one there, Christ
>>
Rolled 84 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6105857
nat 100 incoming
>>
Rolled 40 + 25 (1d100 + 25)

>>6105857
>>
>>6105862
that's a pass!
>>
Driving a hard uppercut my fist connected with its jaw, shattering it. I lunged back from a swipe of its bone-blade then brought an overhand left down between its eyes. It crumpled, dead or alive I didn't much care any more. Not for these things and the remnants of a human soul trapped inside of them.

If it had been alone that would have been bad enough, but more came skittering out of the dark. A bone lash made from a long spine came whipping down and I ducked in time that its tip shattered into splinters against the wall with puff of dust. A jab to its chest shattered its rib cage, the muscle giving way against my knuckles to leave a white fist print above its heart.

People underestimate just how much I hold back in a fight. I didn't hold back now.

The sound of an in drawn breath was all the warning I had when a hail of darts thocked against my chest, stopped by the spider weave. Some bizarre blow pipe bullshit, the thing responsible was a bio-ghoul with a gas pipe mouth and bulging fish eyes. It spat more. I reached down and wrenched the flail from the other bio-ghoul's arm, swung it at its head. The head gave in and its piping ceased.

I was panting on the pain flushing up my leg, adrenaline and fire doing little to dull it.

"Ayane, run," I said.

"No," she said.

Goddamn it.

They didn't stop coming, yipping down the cave tunnel. Captain fucking Body Horror and his Carnival of Madness.

I squared up. Fuck 'em.

The next that came bounding out of the dark caught a cross that took its jaw off. The next one got a haymaker that stove its face in. Something unpleasant splashed across my face. They weren't people anymore. I had to tell myself that. They weren't people anymore. They were what he'd do to Ayane, what he'd do to anyone he caught. What he'd do to any of my friends. To Ayesha and Ivy.

I grabbed one by the head and slammed it against the wall. A grabbed one by the arm and the arm came off. No holding back.

Blood and viscera painted the cave wall as its head gave in. My fists, bloody and hurting, burned on every blow. How many of these things did he fucking have?

I broke the back of the last with a hammer fist, leaving it broken and rattling on the ground.

Sweating, covered in blood, panting hot I didn't feel the cold air any more.

A pause in the attack. But I heard the chitter of more, far off. Dead bio-ghouls littered the cave around me.

A tug on the back of my shirt. "We need to go," Ayane said. She was looking up at me like I was, I dunno, something she hadn't seen before. Something she was a little scared of.
>>
When I went to follow I almost tipped over but she caught me, slung me over her shoulder. Started walking, started dragging me with her.

"I don't want to die," she grunted, "I know that now. I don't want to die, and you can't die either! We're getting out of here!"

That yipping from behind us. More coming. Pain, and not just pain. Exhaustion, hunger.

"Come on, hero! Move your feet!" the scuff of her converse sneakers as she dragged me along.

Vicious fingers dug into my back and I roared on the fire lancing through my skin. Something that must have once been a child had latched to my back, hooked fingers clutching onto my shoulder as a mouth full of needles tried to bite down on my neck.

"Get off him!" Ayane yelled, grabbing at the mutated dwarf. When she ripped it off it took flesh and half my shirt with it, and went bouncing against the wall. "Leave us alone!"

The toe of her shoe caught it in the mouth, bounced the back of its head off the rocks. She kept kicking, that now I had to pull her off.

"It's dead," I said.

She stood rigid straight, and a sob burst out of her. All her pent up emotion bursting out in ugly weeping with fat tears running down her blood smeared face as she stood back straight with fists clenched at her side.

This was a bad time to be crying. God, I don't know what to do when a girl starts crying. And there were more bio-ghouls coming.

>give her a hug?
>slap some sense into her?
>pick her up and run?
>>
>>6105881
>slap some sense into her?
>pick her up and run?
You can have your emotional breakdown later, now is not a good time.
>>
>>6105881
>pick her up and run?
>>
>>6105881
>pick her up and run?
>>
>>6105881
>give her a hug?

She seems distraught.
>>
>>6105907
>>6105890
>>6105889
locking it in
>>
We didn't have time for this. We had to move.

I scooped her up by the waist and into a bridal carry. She hooked an arm around my shoulder, shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, struggling to choke back her tears, "I'm sorry."

Running on a broken leg, I pelted down the tunnel on the fumes of my power, not entirely sure where we were going, only knowing we had to get away. Holding Ayane against me, stretching myself to the limit.

Had to run. Had to get away. Block out the pain. Focus on the fire in the dark. Feed it my pain, my fear, my every thought.

Run. Just run.
-
>Hotspur is running on a broken leg, is carrying Ayane, and is deeply fatigued

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 80
>>
Rolled 76 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6105968
>>
>>6105972
looking good so far!
>>
Rolled 90 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6105968
I really wanted to kill that dickhead.
>>
>>6105985
here's hoping no one rolls a 1!
>>
Rolled 87 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6105968
>>
pass!
>>
I ran, clutching the girl tight. I didn't just run, I leapt, each bounding leap a bout of pain threatening to overtake me.

Had to get her out of here. Had to get her somewhere safe. Anywhere.

She'd stopped crying, stopped talking. She clung to me. I couldn't tell her heart beat from mine, both were pounding so loud. Louder even than the chitters of the bio-ghouls in pursuit behind us, their cries echoing through the tunnel. Through the dark.

I couldn't see where I was going.

My knee hit something. I swerved around it. The toe of my boot hit something hard.

The tunnel broke off in three directions. Which way to go?

I breathed in deep and smelled something. A familiar grassy smell. Rain. Ayesha called the smell 'petrichor' but that was too fancy for me. I called it the smell of rain, and nothing smelled sweeter. She'd told me once humans are weirdly attuned to its smell. Thank God for that now. I barrelled after it. Rain meant open air, which meant a way out.

"Nearly there," I murmured to the girl bouncing in my arms. Out of this nightmare, out-

"Living Dead Girl!"

The screech was followed by fire up my back.

Had they caught up? No, a watch dog. It had dropped from the roof, scythe blades shearing down. I stumbled, spilling Ayane from my hands. Turned my tired, battered body arounds, hands low like Ali as she crouched behind me.

Its rat face shook, twisted, its features rearranging into the pleasant debonair face of the Flesh-Smith.

"There is no escape, Hotspur," he spoke through his ghoul, "Kill as many of my grotesques as you please, I have more. Will make more. You will make a fitting replacement for poor Veech."

"Leave us alone!" Ayane screamed.

Flesh-Smith grinned at her. "My pretty little corpse, there is no where you can run and no where to hide. You will be mine." Then as he laughed the the rat-ghoul lunged, and as I threw out a punch, my leg giving out under me.

My broken leg saved my life. The scythe blade trimmed a lock from my head instead of slicing out my eyes. My fist hit the thing so hard in the chest its back bulged out in an unnatural shape and the damn thing coughed up half its oesophagus as it died.

But fuck me, I was spent. I hit the ground on one knee, propped up by my fist. The smell of rain. Not just the smell, the distant sound of it drumming. We'd almost made it. But the yelping came closer. The darkness behind us alive with mutated shadows. And I was spent.

"Get up," Ayane said, tucking herself under my arm, trying to help me up, "Hotspur, you've got to get up."

I tried. I really did. My fire was a dull flicker.

"Sorry princess," I said, "You're going to have to carry me."

Then I laughed, the image too absurd. Only for her to then grab me under the shoulders and start to pull.

She might be strong enough to help me walk, but she wasn't strong enough to carry all 160 pounds of me. Not without help.
>>
"Come on," she groaned, dragging me back, "Get up you...you goddamn pussy!"

She stopped with a sob and fell over me, like she was trying to protect me now. God I hate to see a pretty girl cry.

"You goddamn piece of shit!" her face was pink, so were her eyes, "You-you think you're going to go out cool? Fuck you!"

She hit my chest.

"All right, calm down," I groaned.

That chittering was getting too close. I rolled over, pushed myself up. I wasn't planning on dying here. I had too much waiting for me, and I wasn't going to give that shithead Flesh-Smith the satisfaction.

I tried getting up. Whatever I'd done to my leg though, it was past broken now. When it gave out I fell, bone jutting out in ways it shouldn't. It was almost funny. I always got hurt the worst rescuing pretty girls. I really should stop. Ayane got under my shoulder.

"Come on," she groaned, half carrying me, "We're almost there, almost..."

The laughter of the bio-ghouls as they came out of the darkness, it was his laughter ringing out from a dozen mouths.

"No!" Ayane said, and threw herself over me.

Stupid. I'm supposed to be the one...its the knights protect the princesses...not the other way...

She gripped my chest, crying as the horrors lunged at us.

A white light. Not from me. From her. Her tears falling. Her black hair, her pitch black hair, for a fleeting second turned snow white as her tears sank into my shoulder.

And then fire. And OH FUCK IT HURT!

The snap of my leg bone as it cracked back into place, the searing hit of my lacerated back sealing up, the broken fingers in my hand clicking back into place. It fucking hurt! FUCK!

And the fatigue washed out of me with that rush of pain. And above us a bio-ghoul lunged.

I threw Ayane off me, sword bursting to life in my hand.

But before that could happen there was a deep throated bark.

The pitbull hit the ghoul square in the neck, jaws locking on its neck, and the two went down in a tangle. More dogs poured down the tunnel after it, barking, salivating, wild with bloodlust as they rushed the remaining bio-ghouls. They ripped at the unnatural creatures with snapping paws, working together to pin them down and tear them limb from limb. A few stray blows from a bio-ghoul felled a dog but the hounds had them outnumbered and surprised, tearing them limb from limb.

A high pitched yip towards the mouth of the tunnel. Dog-Brother came running in his filthy overcoat, Layla darting in front of him a little flash of silver.

Thank God for dogs and thank God for Dog-Brother.

"Fu-found you!" he said with that awkward, not looking me in the eyes grin.

And he hadn't come alone.

As behind him, darkness took a solid form.

back tomorrow
>>
>>6106014
Damn, I'm definitely curious about Ayane's powers. Thanks for running! Really enjoying the return.
>>
Actually that thing got cancelled.

Going to knock out one more update!
>>
She strode out of the darkness as darkness itself, with the strut of a model on a catwalk and the silhouette to match. Midnight black from tip to toe except pure white eyes, ink dark shadows clung to the curve of her hips, tight to her thighs. It was a lot to look at. My sword evaporated as I swallowed.

"Sh-she found m-me when I was l-looking for you," Dog-Brother said, "Her name is-"

"Dusk."

Those white, pupil-less eyes caught me in a glare. The fingers of each hand ended in obsidian talons that gleamed with a sharp lustre. No doubt they could cut through muscle like paper. The shadows moved around her feet as if they might rise at her command.

"C-careful with her H-Hotspur, she st-stinks of blood and I-I've seen her kill."

She ran a claw down her neck as she sized me up, white eyes narrowing.

"Hotspur," my name was half a growl on her lips.

The glare turned from me to Ayane.

Ayane's attention was transfixed away from us. It wasn't every day you saw a dozen dogs tear apart half a dozen mutants. She looked queasy at the sight of growling dogs fighting over torn limps, flicking entrails up in the air in a grizzly victory dance. It was there I was aware she was wearing my jacket and not much underneath it.

She covered her mouth with a sleeve. Please don't throw up on my jacket.

"Ayane!" the growl was gone from Dusk's voice and now rang all too familiar.

"Huh?" Ayane turned, "Nee-chan?"

With a flick of her head the shadows withdrew from Priscilla Takanawa's face, a lock of hair falling free across her eyes. It was about the last face I was expecting to see.

"Ayane," she was over to her sister. Looking down on her, looking down on her in nothing but underwear beneath my jacket. "Where are your clothes? Did he hurt you? Did HE hurt you?" That last 'he' was meant for me, and she whipped around, levelling a talon toward me.

"Priss, what are you, what?" Ayane, confused as I was, looked around, "No! Hotspur rescued me! And I'm fine I was just...my clothes got covered in sewage so that creep Flesh-Smith took them. But he didn't do anything! Don't worry. I just refused to wear that stupid dress and...and I'm not making any sense...and you, what about you? What are you?"

Priscilla, Priss, Dusk, whatever her name was, her face soften as she cradled her sister's cheek.

"I," she said, "Am very relieved."

"You're a freak too?" Ayane said, "Does anyone else know? This is crazy!"

"No one knows, no one can ever know," Dusk said, her shadows crawling back up over her to hide her face, "It would be the end of my career, and-"

"She's a killer," Dog-Brother said, "K-killed two pimps downt-town already."

This was a lot. Way more than I was expecting.

"And I'm going to kill Flesh-Smith, I promise," Dusk said, looking deep in her sister's eyes, "I'm sorry Ayane, I've failed you. Over and over."

"Y-you might k-kill F-Flesh-Smith, but not tonight," Dog-Brother said, "S-storm's going to f-flood this place s-soon."
>>
It had been raining. Raining for hours. We had been down there longer than I thought, and when Dog-Brother lead us out it was deep into the night. So much for the first day back at school. We stood in the mouth of a storm drain looking out onto the I-55, traffic hissing past in the downpour. Thunder rumbled among the dark clouds.

We watched it rumbled together, Ayane tight to my side. She'd barely let go of my arm. It was all too much for her. Not just what she'd been through, but her sister as well.

Dusk put a hand to Ayane's shoulder, asking without words for a moment alone with me. Ayane gave me a glance that asked 'is that okay?' My nod told her it was fine, and she went with Dog Brother, hugging Layla for comfort as the rest of the dog pack leapt down into the rain, going their separate ways racing off into the city.

"I owe you, Hotspur," Priscilla, Dusk, said, "But Flesh-Smith, he's going to come back for her."

"He's not the type to give up," I agreed.

"When the weather eases I plan to hunt him, slay him in his lair. Will you help me?"

>In a heart beat
>Killing him? I'm not sure...

now I'll be back tomorrow
>>
I'd meant to introduce Dusk AAAAAAAAAAAGES ago

you'd also have met her earlier if you'd brought Dog Brother into the sewer with you, since Layla would sniff her out
>>
>>6106081
>Killing him? I'm not sure...
But I don't see much choice.
If we take him in the FED'S or the corpos will scoop him up, offer him a deal that may or may not help the greater good, but is also very likely to result in more bad than good, even before you factor in the morals of letting him use his powers.
Also "gee miss priss you get to be both Lois lane and superman"
>>
>>6106081
>In a heart beat
>>
>>6106081
>In a heartbeat
>>
I'm pretty torn on this vote. Keep in mind that Grant will end our partnership if we start killing villains.
>>
Finally finished rereading the whole quest, what a blast from the past. Binged it in two days.
>>6106081
>In a heart beat
>>
>>6106081
>In a heart beat
For your run of the mill goon Eric would for sure go in with a no kill policy
But Flesh-Smith is genuinely evil and the horror he has wrought is more than enough for a more permanent solution
>>
>>6106081
>In a heart beat
Any sensible system of justice would have him dead. Eric's own should be no different.
>>
>>6106081
>In a heart beat
"After I have some answers."
He might have learned something about all this in his dark quest for knowledge, and what hes after seems interesting.

This dude would need to be put in a magneto prison, maybe even a vegetarian diet lol. Imagine if he can just take a steak dinner and smith it into something. Then again, he would always have his own flesh unless that doesn't work so well.

Also Dusk's entrance kind of made me wonder if Darkness Star Satan would made deals with humans for power.
>>
>>6106379
>>6106305
>>6106293
>>6106291
>>6106226
>>6106192
pretty definitive response here
>>
"In a heart beat," I said.

I'm no killer, but Flesh-Smith was no ordinary criminal. The things he had done, the things he was capable of...and he wouldn't stop coming for Ayane. There was no prison I could think of could hold a creature like him, or anyone I'd trust to contain him. There was no way I'd let him make another victim. Or end up working as an asset for the scientists at the black site, Project Cauldron. What they could do with him would make the nightmares he'd already made look like afternoon daydreams.

Grant had told me once if I started stacking bodies she'd cut ties with me. But Grant didn't need to know about this, and she hadn't seen what I'd seen in the monster's lair. Some dragons need to be slain.

Dusk grinned. I couldn't think of her as Priscilla Takanawa, news reporter, right now. Not with that grin and dark gleam in her eyes. 'She stinks of blood' Dog-Brother had said. And if ever there was a smile with the copper taste of blood in it, there it was.

"I wondered about you, Hotspur," she said, "If you had iron in your spine or if you were just playing boy scout. But I saw the bodies back there."

She offered me my hand to take. I shook.

"We'll be hunters, then," she said, "But, in the mean time..."

We looked to where Ayane sat, watching the rain. Layla sat in her lap, little tail whipping back and forth as Ayane stroked her long silver fur. They watched the rain fall together, Ayane huddled in the depths of my jacket.

"Someone needs to protect her," she said, "I kept her abduction out of the news. Now we need to make sure he doesn't take her again, before we kill him."

Ayane had done something in the cave to heal my injuries. She'd put my leg back together and closed up my cuts, gave me back energy like I'd had a week of sleep. It had hurt, but it had worked. It wasn't the kind of power though that could keep a bio-ghoul from snatching her out of her bed.

>I can protect her, she can stay with me
>My friends in Fire-Watch can protect her
>You seem capable of protecting your sister
>(write-in)
>>
>>6106516
>My friends in Fire-Watch can protect her
>>
>>6106516
>My friends in Fire-Watch can protect her

>Grant had told me once if I started stacking bodies she'd cut ties with me.
Is it really stacking bodies if it's just one? I feel like you need at least 2 to start a stack.
>>
>>6106516
>My friends in Fire-Watch can protect her
Should lay out all options to her and Ayane though. They can choose what's the best since I think they're all viable (Even if the the first is definetly the worst).

>I'm no killer, but Flesh-Smith was no ordinary criminal
Missed opportunity to say: "Ordinarily, I'm no killer... but Flesh-Smith is no ordinary criminal." maybe too unserious though?

>There was no prison I could think of could hold a creature like him, or anyone I'd trust to contain him.
Even if there was, why should anyone bother? Put a bullet in his head and be done with him.

>Or end up working as an asset for the scientists at the black site, Project Cauldron. What they could do with him would make the nightmares he'd already made look like afternoon daydreams.
Even more reason to kill him.

>Grant had told me once if I started stacking bodies she'd cut ties with me.
I think she'd have every right if Eric killed people for jaywalking or on suspicion alone or other similar reasons. Flesh-Smith and the like though? "Mercy to the guilty is cruelty to the innocent" and all that.
>>
>>6106527
>>6106522
>>6106540
locked in
>>
"My friends in Fire Watch can protect her," I said, "Grit, Pratfall, all of them."

"If you trust them..." Dusk said with more than a little skepticism.

"You can trust them," I said.

"Trust shouldn't be cheap," she said. Then the shadows reshaped over her face, "And they can't know who I really am. No one can. Bad enough my sister knows, least of all you and your friend with the dogs. You're the only three people in the world who know my secret identity, and I would not mind if that number dropped to one. I worked too hard to build my career, and I won't be carted off by the DPA. Understand?"

"Perfectly," I said, mentally tallying the too high number of people who knew my secret identity.

"Don't make me regret this. I'll handle our parents. Just keep your end of the bargain."

"Fire Watch won't fail," I said. I hoped.

When it was time for us to go, Ayane didn't take it well.

"Can't I stay with you?" she said, and not to her sister. We'd been through a lot in a short amount of time. It built a certain kind of bond pretty quickly.

"'Fraid not, but don't stress. Dog-Brother has your back."

Dog-Brother coughed into his sleeve.

"And the rest of the team. They're good people. And they'll protect you, Ayane. We're the good guys."

She nodded, though clearly disappointed.

"If you trust them, I trust them," she said. Then, to my surprise, darted a kiss on my cheek. Her surprise to, because she followed it up by punching me in the arm trying to cover a blush with a laugh. "Thanks bro," she said, "We better get going then. Uh...see you around, Hotspur."

"Yeah."

Last thing I needed was her catching feelings. Didn't need the stress that might bring with my girlfriends. And I was too busy to play baby sitter. Sending her off with Dog-Brother was the best move.

He handed her Layla to carry and helped her down from the storm drain. Grit and Thunderchild were on their way to pick them up.

I was left one last time alone with Dusk. "This is my number," I said, "When you're ready to hit Flesh-Smith, let me know."

"Expect it soon," she said with a voice so dripping with violence it sounded nothing like her own. The shadows swallowed her, and it was as if she'd never been there at all.

Not the alliance I'd been expecting to make.

Right now though, I had other things to worry about. Particularly since my phone had started blowing up with messages and missed calls.

Fuck me. A good chunk were from Dad, some were from Carmen, as many were from Ayesha and Ivy and a few from school friends. It weighed as heavy as any of the other problems. And getting another lecture from Dad was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

>but I have to face the music, head home
>cut loose instead, go looking for trouble
>go to Ayesha's, I need to relax
>(write-in)
>>
>>6106580
Does Ayesha live alone? I don't see why we would go there if she lives with her parents.
>>
my brain's fried. I think I'm going to stop here and pick it up tomorrow
>>
>>6106580
>but I have to face the music, head home
>>
>>6106580
>Face the music, head home
We have been going from friendly neighborhood to edgy ninja. Hopefully we regain some sense and realize that we are supposed to be a symbol for the people and several of our allies and family members, friends, and loved ones would turn on us if we go down the dark route
>>
>>6106723
Everything that you said in this post is wrong.
>>
>>6106723
Cowabummer dude

>>6106580
>(write-in)
Go see Ivy
>>
>>6106580
>face the music
>>
>>6106731
You're telling me, that our dad, girlfriends, teammates, Grant and everyone that knows us wouldn't flip on us? We have been going down a dark road and haven't been relaxing or relying on our team as much as we should. We start killing and we will have a lot more problems heaped onto our already growing pile of them
>>
>>6106580
>cut loose instead, go looking for trouble
>>
>>6106580
>>but I have to face the music, head home
>>
My brain is mush so I'm going to take the next couple of days off, but AMA about the quest, the characters, the world, and so long as the answer isn't a spoiler I'll answer it.
>>
>>6107078
How big of a harem can we get?

I want foxtrot on the roster.
>>
>>6107084
>How big of a harem can we get?
Eric's potential romantic entanglements aren't route locked and will be dependent on player options, but to call it a 'harem' ignores the consequences of Eric playing around, the hurt feelings among the women he is involved with and how they're likely to react to it. And not every woman is interested (even some who flirt with him)

Eric can be a player, but there are consequences for playing games.
>>
I like to treat the cast as real people in a real world, not as video game characters stuck on pre-determined rails. This doesn't always work out, because I have serious limitations as a writer, but I do try to keep the setting active to itself and reactive to what you guys have Eric do (or don't do, as case may be)
>>
>>6107078
Does every parahuman have their own inner ashavan or something similar? Or are we just special?
>>
>>6107104
>Does every parahuman have their own inner ashavan or something similar?
no they don't, but is Eric the only one?

now that's a question.
>>
>>6107107
I wanna ask how magic, the comet, and parahumans are all connected but surely that’s a spoiler
>>
>>6107403
Reminds of that south park scientology episode. The asteroid was a prison or means of escape for the spirits of that doomed world. All the spirits got dumped? Pulled? Into Earth along the Prime Meridian because it has some kind of spiritual significance.

Magic, psionic spirit mind speak between Princess Mangy and Eric, the awakening of parahuman potential.

Eric should invest in a telescope. Get in touch with someone who has one, or maybe our little girl genius buddy could make one out of garbage so we can look for a world in the direction the comet came from. Maybe seeing it will strengthen Eric's spiritual connection to his past life memories and these powers. Maybe if any parahuman sees it they might get a boost, which could be bad if super criminals do it too. Also I guess he could spot the big bad evil space satan and then the Wizards lore it seems like once you know and see something it will have an easier time getting in. Some things to consider.
>>
>time to face the music
>>
Jogging home through the rain, I made a note to get my jacket back from Ayane first thing, or commission a new one from Merriweather. God I could use an umbrella right now, it was really coming down hard. Sheets of rain washing down the streets, gurgling in the storm drains, carrying off the filth of the city. Street lights struggled through the dark.

I wasn't looking forward to whatever Dad had to say. Every time we talked these days it turned into a fight.

Getting home, I took the fire escape entrance, coming in through my bedroom window. Didn't need the run in with Mrs Valdez or the white couple who had moved in upstairs since Mr Green had passed on. I slithered through the window and over my bed, drenched and dripping onto the floorboards. A towel, a change of clothes, and a quick check of my messages.

A photo from Ivy in her private academy uniform. Pleated blue skirt, a preppy vest, knee high socks. She was rolling her eyes with her tongue stuck out. I saved it to the special folder. A photo from Ayesha too. She was hugging her oversized teddy bear, pouting. And the oversized teddy bear was all she had on. That also went into the special folder.

Well it took some of the sting out of whatever was waiting for me in the kitchen. Though the dread, the guilt and the anger all rose up as I opened the door.

Dad was waiting for me, sitting at the kitchen table. Carmen stood by the sink, arms crossed and looking no where. The dark look in Dad's eyes. I don't think I'd ever seen him this angry.

"You're alive," he said. A flash of my own anger. Would he have preferred if I wasn't? "Did you save the girl?"

I rolled my tongue around my mouth before answering. "Yeah," I said.

"Good," he said, "That's good. I'm glad." He didn't sound glad. He jerked his head toward Miss Flores. "Carmen didn't know though. I got a call from her, crying, thinking I was half dead in the hospital. It was a surprise to me, seeing as I was half way through a Rueben."

"They don't just let me leave school when-"

His palm slammed down on the table top. He glared at me.

"Eric, you don't get to do whatever the fuck you want, whenever you want," he said, "It's the first day of the school year. I'm glad you saved the girl, but did 'you' have to save her? Do you really think you'll get into a good college if-"

"Do you really think I'm going to go to college?" the words spat hot, "Do you really think I'm going to live that long?"

Dad's face went stark white. The terror, the real and thriving terror that was the heart of his anger, revealed for a cold second. But the anger came back, his face bright pink, his voice climbing into a shout.
>>
"If you'd listen to me, maybe you would!" he snapped, "Jesus Christ, you act like you're being forced to do this! You're not! No one has a gun to your head here! You're a kid! A dumb fucking kid with a dangerous fucking hobby! Ever since your mother died you've-!" His hand curled into a white knuckled fist, his teeth bared. Carmen, Miss Flores, put a hand on his shoulder. To calm him. To reassure him. To show him he was loved.

For a long, agonizing, shameful second I hated Miss Flores more than anyone in the world.

"You need to know something," he said.

"What's that?" I spat.

"Carmen's pregnant. We're getting married."

A hit so hard I was dazed. The words not quite registering.

Dad staring at me, glaring at me. Carmen wilting at his shoulder, ashamed.

"Say that again."

"Carmen is pregnant and we're getting married."

Too many emotions at once went racing through me. None of it made sense. The fire in me flared up. Pregnant. Ok. A kid, a little brother or sister. A kid growing in her. Dad's kid. And getting married.

"It's barely been a year," I said. Since Mom died. Replacing her. Replacing me. Stupid, stupid thoughts. Of course he wasn't replacing me. Replacing Mom. Barely been a year. The fucking son of a bitch.

"Eric," Miss Flores said. No, no, no. Don't talk right now. "Eric, we-"
-
>roll 3x1d100 dc 90 to keep from losing your shit
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6109149
>90 dc
That bad?
>>
>>6109150
>69
nice
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>6109149
inb4 nat1 Prince intervention
>>
>>6109150
Nice
>>
Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>6109149
This might end up being a good thing to be honest. With dad worrying about his new kid he will be less focused on what we are doing. Maybe we should also looking into moving out from home.
>>
and that's a (kind of expected) fail!

sorry, got pulled away
>>
Her hand brushed my shoulder.

"DON'T! DON'T, JUST FUCKING STAY OUT OF THIS!"

Miss Flores pulled back like I'd slapped her.

I slammed my hands on the table. Nothing around me seemed real.

"A YEAR, ITS ONLY BEEN A YEAR!"

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck both of them. Fuck both of them.

"MOM'S ONLY BEEN DEAD A YEAR A-A-AND YOU'RE ALREADY GETTING MARRIED. ALREADY STARTING A NEW FAMILY! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! DID YOU EVEN LOVE HER? DID YOU EVEN LOVE MOM OR WERE YOU JUST WAITING FOR HER TO DIE SO YOU COULD START SLEEPING AROUND?"

Dad's glare shot up at me. And he stood.

"Eric," just my name, but the way he said it. The way he growled it.

The fire roared through me the same as my anger roared through my head.

"YOU SPENT MONTHS SITTING ON THE COUCH GETTING DRUNK. YOU DIDN'T FUCKING CARE WHAT I DID, YOU DIDN'T SEE A FUCKING THING, BUT NOW YOU'RE GETTING PUSSY HALF YOUR AGE YOU'RE GOING TO PRETEND YOU'RE A FUCKING DAD? THIS IS A BAD FUCKING JOKE! YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME HOW TO LIVE? YOU?"

He didn't speak. He just stared at me, shaking. Shaking with anger.

"YOU DON'T KNOW ME, YOU FUCKING DRUNK! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I SAW TODAY, WHAT I SEE EVERY DAY! IF YOU SAW EVEN HALF OF IT YOU'D CRAWL BACK INTO A BOTTLE AND FUCKING STAY THERE, YOU FUCKING COWA-!"

The slap shut me up. Not from Dad. Stood stock still. Miss Flores, Carmen, had whipped a slap across my cheek that left a stinging red mark.

I stared at her. She glared at me.

"You're out of line," she said.

Fucking...fucking whore. "You're not my mom," I said in the smallest, whiniest voice I'd ever heard come out of my mouth I just wanted to punch myself for it.

"No, I'm not," she said.

"Fuck you," I croaked.

"You're angry, you've been through a lot," she said, "We all need a time out."

"FUCK YOU!"

I wasn't thinking. I ran.

"Eric!"

I ran for the door. Burst out of it, taking the steps four at a time before sprinting out into the hard falling rain. Sniffling and sobbing like some pathetic little baby, just running through the rain to get away from them. Away from the apartment and the people in it. Crying into the rain like a big fucking bitch. I didn't look back to see if anyone chased after me, though I heard someone call my name.

"Eric!"

The fire flooded through me and I leapt out into the hard dark rain, needing to get away. Away.

Anywhere but here.

God. Mom. Fuck. Why the fuck am I crying?

Where the fuck am I going to go?

>Head to my hideout
>Head to Ayesha's
>Head to Ivy's
>Head to the Farm
>Head to Luis' shop
>(write-in)

(Eric is being very emo right now. Keep in mind he's only 16)
>>
>>6109199
>Just walk.
Time to self reflect.

>(Eric is being very emo right now. Keep in mind he's only 16)
Yeah, I remember being retarded too even if it wasn't this much.
>>
>>6109199
>Head to Ivy's

I think Ivy will tell Eric to stop being such a little bitch, or fuck his head clear.
>>
>>6109199
>Head to the Farm
>>
>>6109199
>The hideout
Man are we gonna feel bad about this later
Right now we’re totally justified though, fuck those two
>>
>>6109199
>Head to the Farm

Maybe we should stay with the rest of the muties for a while. Rat mother always said parafolk are free to stay there.
>>
>>6109199
>>6109209
I'll change to hideout or Ivy's because going to the Farm doesn't seem in character given how vulnerable Eric is and that he isn't really that close to anybody at the farm.
>>
>>6109199
>Head to Ivy's

She'll tell us some real traumatizing shit her parents do and we'll realize we're just a Lil bitch.
>>
sorry, had some computer problems

>>6109707
>>6109487
>>6109219
three for ivy

>>6109277
>>6109487
two for the farm

>>6109277
>>6109487
two for the hideout

going to see Ivy wins
>>
>>6109751
Flesh-Smith must've got the QM!
>>
>>6109802
I don't know what happened but I'm back
>>
I need to talk to someone.

I need to talk to...someone...

She lived up in Lake Forest. Ivy. Her parents had money, which meant a house with a drive, a second floor, and a pool out the back. It meant green trees all around and as much privacy as you could want. It meant keeping out the riff-raff. It meant private security and an 'excuse me, are you a housekeeper?' of everyone passing through. Getting there, at night, in the rain?

I didn't take the bus. Had to hope all the cameras caught was a blur. Even with my powers it wasn't quick, and the rain didn't let up. Fuck, if I had to guess it got worse as the night went on.

I knew where Ivy lived but I'd never been there. I landed in the bough of a tree, dripping water. Lights were still on though it was late. Downstairs lights, the muffled sound of a tv. Football highlights, I think. SportsCenter.

From the bough of the tree I made a gentle leap onto the shingled roof. Stalked my way across it to the light of a second floor window, still on.

Had to hope when I looked in I wasn't about to perv on Ivy's mom.

There was a lamp on a desk. A closed laptop. A standing mirror and next to it a guitar on a stand. It wasn't as big a room as I maybe expected, but it was about half as big as our frunchroom. There was a shower going. It shuttered off. I waited, peering, nervous. Thinking what I might say.

'Can I crash here tonight Ivy, I had a fight with my Dad.'

God, I'm a fucking loser.

The bathroom door opened and she stepped out, drying her hair with a towel and really needing to invest in curtains. God, the sight of her gave me a good ache, my breathing for a second switched over to manual. The water dripping down her leg, in the soft light it made her skin glow. Her blonde hair half brown from the wet.

God.

Hesitating at first, I finally tapped the window pane.

She kept back a scream, swishing her towel up to cover herself before peering into the rain and realizing it was me.

The window opened. I climbed through onto her carpet, shoes squishing. The room smelled like lavender, cool from an AC unit.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ivy hissed, voice low, "If my parents catch you, they won't have to kill you. I'll do it first!"

For all of that though, she was taking me by the arm, leading me to the bed.

"Sorry," I said, "I'm sorry, this was stupid. I just...I just needed to...I don't know...I'm stupid."

"Oh stop whining," she said, sitting me down, helping me out of my shoes, "You're drenched. Did you run all the way here? Uber is a thing."

"Sorta, yeah," I said, trying and failing to make a joke out of it.

She glanced at her door. Got up and latched it. Put a finger to her lips.
>>
"Dad's up watching soccer," she said, keeping her voice low, "Sorry 'football'. God, if I have to hear him laugh at his little 'handegg' joke again I'll kill him then myself. All to suck up to his clients in Qatar. Like he doesn't have season tickets to the Bears."

Her dad really is the worst.

She looked back to me. "Are you okay?" Those eyes of hers, bright with worry.

I smiled. "No."

She smiled. "Didn't think so," she said, slinking down to sit next to me, "Why are you fighting with your dad?"

I shrugged. "He's getting re-married," I said, "And they're already expecting, you know, a kid."

Ivy sighed. "Well, movel toz to the happy couple," she said, "And here I thought it was all to do with your adventure in the sewer. Ayesha told me, she said you got the girl out of there. That's good. Ayane's like, the only cool girl at my school. The only one I can half way stomach at least."

They went to the same school? That was unexpected.

"So you're going to have a little sibling running around," she said, "So what? And your dad's decided to marry his baby mama. So what?"

"We don't have to talk about it," I mumbled, wet clothes starting to stain her bedsheets, "And it's not just that. It's not. He doesn't like me doing...all this."

She flicked my ear. Not so much it hurt, but enough it surprised me. "Eric, I don't like you doing 'all this'," she said, "You think I'm bouncing with excitement every time you fly out the window to fight who knows what? Do you think Ayesha is? You think it was fun seeing you cut open and spilled out all over an icicle. An icicle in August?"

"I don't actually fly," I mumbled. She flicked my ear again. This time it hurt.

>You're right, I'm an idiot!
>Could you just take my side in this?
>Maybe I should just quit
>>
>>6109877
>Maybe I should just quit
>>
>>6109877
>>You're right, I'm an idiot!
>>
>>6109877

>Look Ivy the ghost voices in my head demand justice. The space princess is counting on me!
>>
Damn, nobody said Luiz, I was gonna vote for advice from our favorite Unc
>>
>>6109877
Sometimes I wish I had never told anyone who I am. Things are only going to get worse for Hotspur and I'm putting everyone I love through it too.
>>
>>6109877
>You're right, I'm an idiot!
Dial ourselves back and learn to rely on help from others. Dad is correct, but we can't just ignore everything. No man is an island
>>
>>6109877
>You're right, I'm an idiot!
>>6110079
Support
>>
>>6109877
>You're right, I'm an idiot!
I imagine Eric doesn't like it either but it's not about doing it because he likes it, he does it because he feels he must. It's his duty and all that. Take Ayane for instance, how would they all feel if they knew he could've saved her but just said "nah, I don't feel like it.".

She's right about his dad marrying and getting a new sibling though, Eric is just being a pussy about that.
>>
>>6110079
>>6110081
>>6110107
>>6110168
>>6109972
ok! locking in!

sorry for the sporadic updates
>>
"You're right, I'm an idiot!" I snapped, ready to ball up my fist and hit myself, "I'm just a selfish idiot!

"Oh shush," she said, hand to my knee, "And I mean it, keep your voice don't. Mom's out on a Valium but Dad might still hear. Also you're not an idiot. Would I waste time with an idiot?" She took my head into her arms, cradling me back. Holding me. I needed it. I needed to be held.

"Sometimes I wish I had never told anyone who I am," I said into the crook of her arm, "Things are only going to get worse for me, for Hotspur, and I'm putting everyone I love through it too."

"Oh please, Ayesha and I figured it out on our own," she said, "And if you think we only love you because you're Hotspur, maybe you are a bit of an idiot."

"Thanks," I said, "But that's not what I mean."

"You want to know when I fell in love with you?" she said, playing with my hair, "It was when you were kind to a sick little girl with no one else to play with."

Grace. Fuck. Here I was crying about my Dad getting married and having a kid, when Ivy was still living with the whole losing Grace had torn in her heart.

"It took me a second to realize it," she said, "I didn't even want to believe it. Didn't want to believe it was real. But I was stupidly in love with you for months before I ever said anything. With the nice guy from Indiana who let a little girl talk him into wasting his afternoons playing fighting games in a hospital. And maybe its the fact he'd do that is also the reason he'd put on a stupid costume and go out at night to try and punch away the world's problems."

"You don't got to talk me up," I said, a little flustered.

"Hush, I'm not done," she said, "Now you know how little love there is out there in the big bad world. You've seen it. There's so little of it I didn't believe it was even real. But you showed me it was. Love is real, Eric. And if there isn't that much of it, we need to treasure it where we find it."

"Like with Dad and Miss Flores," I sighed, getting her point.

"And their kid," she said, "Who is going to need their big brother to look out for them. That's the job you know, of being the older sibling. You've got to...to take care of them..."

Her voice trailed off and it didn't take me long to realize she was crying. There was no sign of Grace in her room, no photos, no pictures or anything. So much so I could feel the absence.

It was my turn now, to hold Ivy's head in my hands, to hold her against me.

"I hate them so fucking much, Eric, so fucking much," she said in a harsh whisper, "I hate it here. I just want to go home."

Home. To Ayesha and the Carvers.

"I'm here," I said, kissing her cheek, "For tonight at least, I'm here." Kissing her forehead. Her lips found my neck. We were about to do something when a call came up from downstairs.

"Ivanna, are you still up?" her dad, his steps on the stairs, "You have school in the morning!"

Ivy looked to me, startled, as the door knob rattled.

>hide
>leave
>...stay put
>>
>>6110303
>hide

Doubt we're getting out of the window without him seeing a blur. Under le bed we go.

Read thr old thread. Great job qm. Welcome back.
>>
>>6110303
>hide in the bathroom and leave the door barely open
>But before whisper to her "Say you're barely getting out of the shower or something that makes your dad uncomfortable"
>>
>>6110303
>>6110317
That's a good idea, she's still in her towel so she can buy us a little bit more time.
>>
>>6110303
>Hide
>>
>>6110303
>...stay put

cue 'IM NAKED AND DRYING GO AWAY! UGHN!'
>>
>>6110356
Honestly I like this more. Maybe Eric being a tall kid + wet clothes is going to make some sound
>>
>>6110356
>>6110363
I don't because I fear him getting nosy and coming in anyway.
>>
>>6110326
>>6110320
>>6110316
locking this in
>>
"Hey, I'm still naked in here!" Ivy said, mouthing the word 'hide!' at me as she reached for an old sleep shirt. She pulled on an old Bears jersey as the latch clicked unlocked.

"Well hurry up and get dressed, I'm coming in!" her dad said with a laugh he thought was playful but only came out as awkward.

I nearly tripped ducking into the bathroom before I heard the door swing open. It was dark, wet and still steaming in there. Almost suffocating it was still so hot. I peeked through the crack of the bathroom door as her dad stepped in.

Ivy's dad didn't look much like her. If I had to compare him to anyone, he looked like Stephen King but with a weaker chin and better hair. When he smiled he showed off how much he'd spent on top of the line dentistry, his veneers practically sparkling.

"What are you doing still up at two in the morning?" he said, "It's a bit late for a shower."

Ivy slipped her legs under the covers, crossed her hands on her lap. He looked around, taking in the four corners of her room.

"Thought I heard you talking to someone, did you make a phone call?"

"Please Daddy, I'm not fifty, no one makes phone calls anymore," she said, "Maybe Mom was talking in her sleep."

"Believe me, Ivanna, when your mother puts herself to bed, she puts herself to bed," he laughed again in that awkward way, still glancing around, "It's good to see you back in your old room. We really did miss you, you know."

"I know," she said, a tight fake smile on her face.

"We're not perfect people," he said, "I'm sorry we're not, but we're trying our best here."

"I know," she said.

"There's no rule books on parenting, we make mistakes," he said. There were many books on parenting. Possibly millions.

"Who won the game?" Ivy asked, "Your soccer...er...football game."

Her dad clicked his fingers. "Arsenal," he said, "Dammit, al'Shahidi won't be happy. He just bought a large stake in Chelsea FC. Those Qataris are mad for football, almost as much as the Argentinians. If we could just crack that market there's money to be made."

"It's the world game," Ivy said with a disinterested sigh.

"Which reminds me, we'll be dining out with Mr al'Shahidi on Saturday night. All of us. He has reservations at Alinea, those are not easy to get."

"I'll be sure to wear my best hijab," she said.

Her dad's smile wrinkled. "There's no need for racism, honey," he said, "Just wear that necklace we got you. The one that matches your mother's. He's bringing his son, maybe you'll hit it off."

"Mmm," Ivy's smile was strained.

God I wanted to drive my fist into his smug, expensive smile. Scatter his teeth over the expensive carpet. Leave his dentist with a real challenge.

He lingered at the door. "Do we need to talk?" he said, "Because if we need to talk..."

"There is absolutely nothing we have to talk about," she said with a smile, "Goodnight, Daddy."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Peaches," and closed the door behind him.
>>
Ivy looked about ready to spit at it. Then, giving it a few minutes, she slipped out of the bed and slipped over to the bathroom door. Pushing the door open, she bit her lip, looking up at me with those bright blue eyes in nothing but a Bears jersey that didn't reach down her thighs.

"Now," she said, hooking her fingers into the front of my shirt, "Unless I'm seriously mistaken, you were about to fuck my brains out?"

Oh man.

Yeah. Okay. I could do that.
-
back tomorrow
>>
We woke up in the morning, though you wouldn't know it. The rain had stopped but the sky was still covered in fat dark clouds, overcasting and threatening Chicago with a second helping. I say 'we woke up' I mean Ivy woke up, and then she got me up with a push on my back. It was a great way to wake up.

I'd drooled on her pillow, sucking in spit as I started awake. There were sounds downstairs, someone up and about.

"Rosa, our housekeeper," Ivy said, putting a finger to my lips before I could talk, "You need to go."

Mmm. Yeah. Didn't really want to though. If ever there was a way to make everything else in my life seem stupid it was a night with Ivy.

She was getting dressed, and quickly. Pulling on a bra, her undershirt.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"A ninja biker assassin is teaching me how to sword fight," I said.

Ivy scoffed. "Of course. What else are you doing tonight?"

Hmm. I didn't like it, but it had to be done. "Apologizing to Dad, trying to at least."

"Good boy," she said, stroking my chin. I grinned. There was a bustle on the stairs and she shot me a look of panic. I swung out of bed, scooping up my pants and pulling them on while also dragging myself half out her window. She threw me my shirt when I was out on the shingles. I held out my hands for my shoes.

Grabbed them just in time to pull myself up onto the roof as the door swung open.

"Buenos dias, Ivy. Te hice el desayuno, tu avena como te gusta. Deberías comer más. Eres demasiado flaca," the housekeeper said in a flit of chirpy, cheerful Spanish that I didn't understand a word of.

"Rosa, por favor, no deberías irrumpir en mi dormitorio!" Ivy replied, "No sabes lo que podría estar haciendo!"

"Ok, fair point," Rosa said in English with the hint of a Puerto Rican accent, "And I'll pretend I didn't see a boy sneak out your window!"

"Rosa!"

Sitting on the roof I pulled on my shoes. Something told me Rosa wasn't about to go running to Ivy's dad. I crept over the roof and landed in the Chambers' back garden, near their pool. From there I leapt out over onto the next house and dropped down into the shady lane they called a street.

It was another world out here. So many trees, barely a hint of people except the tall stone fences keeping people out. I started walking in the general direction of a bus stop, walking in clothes still on the uncomfortable side of damp. Checking my phone the forecast promised more rain today. Anyone with eyes could guess that. I googled a path to school. Not that I had my school bag with me.

Shit maybe I should just skip out on today and head home instead.

>skip school, go home
>no way, can't skip twice
>(write-in)

enjoy my google translated Spanish
>>
>>6111066
>no way, can't skip twice
>>
>>6111066
>go to skool
>>
>>6111066
>(write-in)
Have a moment of clarity that he hasn't used protection, then a burst of anxiety
>>
>>6111066
>Can't skip twice
>>
>>6111066
>no way, can't skip twice
We might be called out because our clothes will possibly stank because it was flooded with water and wasn't put in a washing machine, so maybe it is a good idea to make it a little late for the first hour to make a fast detour to our home and get some clean clothes,

Also anons, I've been thinking, that we should maybe "make" a new suit for when we meet Dusk when we go hunting the Flesh-smith. The last that we need is that for some reason or another it all ends up bringing a lot of attention or even the final battle being on the outside of the sewer, and we end up on the news because some news reporter saw us killing that mf

And also, we should talk to Shark about joining. Idk if he's going to get super aids on his gills from swimming on the sewer, but if not, he would be an awesome tracker/killer for this job
>>
>>6111066
>no way, can't skip twice

>text dad "I'll be home tonight. And I'm sorry I know you're just doing your best. I hope you can see I'm doing the same."
>>
Sorry for the absence, some more irl drama making running difficult.

I'll lock in this vote, but the next post will be the start of the new thread. expect it tomorrow or the day after.
>>
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=with+great+power

Archived, and mislabelled as thread 14! Fuck!
>>
>>6112938
lol it happens mate. New thread soon?
>>
>>6113020
SOON
>>
File: GGwkd4XWYAA3pz-.jpg (16 KB, 540x567)
16 KB
16 KB JPG
>>6113108
>>6112153
It's over the Ixion corporation has won, firewatch has fallen, millions in Chicago will perish.
>>
>>6114645

don't bet on it: >>6114914



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