AN: Didn't update last month. Life got away from me while I was thinking on the direction I wanted this update to go in. Here's the chapter. Need to go over it with a proper grammar checker, but I've stalled this one enough I think.
"You're fired."
I almost chuckle at Skidmark's declaration. Good comedic timing, really highlighting the absurdity of the situation and breaking the tension with a quick one-liner. Then, I remember that this was Skidmark and he probably wasn't cracking a joke. He was probably serious. Or as close to it as he could get without actually shooting someone. I drop the smile before he can notice my reaction.
Focus up, Greg. It's easy to get arrogant and complacent. Easy to think that everyone in this room was a future ally, that even if the rest of the evening didn't result in much success - that all three of the Merchant's Capes would soon be a trio of buxom women falling over themselves to serve me. But even if that might be true, these people were all criminals first. Uber and Leet barely qualified for the label - despite my disguise as one of their goons, all three of the people here were closer to Oni Lee than they were to Leet. Still a good deal clear from him, to be sure - but criminals nonetheless. People who had not only survived, but ultimately thrived in the cutthroat, treacherous underworld that they had made into their home.
So. Don't get too cocky. In all likelihood, Skidmark could shoot me right now and nobody would blink an eye at my 'death' - at least, until my forcefield took them by surprise. I'd completed challenges on Mush to 'upgrade' her - and the fact that it was 'her' was a bit of a surprise. One that I wasn't sure about what it could mean. Was it just that my powers had prioritised making them into someone I might have some interest in, and gone straight for the drastic changes that usually would come later? It had been the earliest that I'd seen such a conversion, but then again... the original Mush was probably the ugliest fucker I'd seen yet. So maybe that tracked.
But I would be stupid to just assume that it was a gift from my power. Not when my power was so willing to throw me under the bus at other times. However much her personality was quietly amusing, no matter how much I appreciated that she was very much a woman under all of that scrap and steel - and however much more enjoyable she was to be around compared to her original counterpart likely would have been - this wasn't free. My power didn't do handouts like that for something that I would have done anyway. As a working assumption for now, I'd have to guess that the radical changes to her personality and body were balanced out by a general lack of loyalty or any extra friendliness towards me. Other 'strangers' that I had challenged tended to go from neutral acquaintances to clear 'friends' after a challenge - and only later on in the challenge lists did the more extreme changes occur. I could consider this as a simple re-ordering by my power, which would probably indicate that Mush wouldn't be stepping in to shield me anytime soon.
Evidence in point: Her decision to throw me to the wolves and use me as a shield for herself instead. In some ways, this was the worst outcome from my power in a purely pragmatic sense. Yes, one extra girl in the scene - and I was happy for that - but at the same time, I was surrounded by three enemies. Saved only by the fact that they didn't know that I was an enemy yet. If it came down to a fight... Mush would almost certainly side against me.
Something about that grated. The idea that I could pick a fight with Skidmark or go and beat on some random drug-dealers, and one of my girls would side with them? That was the trick in thinking. It would be hard to get annoyed at the idea of opposition from the gangly, warped man that I had glimpsed during the challenges - in the same way that I didn't really feel anything about the idea of Skidmark fighting me. But Squealer? The new Mush? I was already considering them as mine. I could already half-picture the two kneeling in front of me, each taking their turn to worship my cock as the other provides updates on the status of the Merchant's to their new leader-in-the-shadows.
And instead, they'd follow Skidmark? Skidmark?!
Maybe my power knew me too well. Because that thought burned hotter and harder than anything else so far today. Not the ignoble defeat against an aspect of the man's power I wasn't ready for, not the casual insults he heaped on me as I played the part of assistant - but the idea that one of my girls might side with him over me? That stung. Too effective. To the point that it felt deliberate. Like a toxic game mechanic, just goading you into getting mad about something that you could fix if you played a little bit more. I could almost feel the challenge from my power, I could visualise it - as if it was right next to me, wearing my face with a mocking smile. 'Don't like the idea? Mad about it?' That's what I would say. 'Then why don't you go and do something about it?'. Just win another two challenges to try and sway them to my side instead. Just handle Skidmark, and then breed the needy slut that remained behind as one last act of spite towards the pride and legacy of the man who dared to lay claim to something that was mine.
I shift slightly, trying to keep any expression off of my face. Not the flash of murderous hatred. Not the ghost of a smile at the humour I found in Skidmark's not-joke. And certainly not any hint at the strain in my pants at the thought of what the three other Capes in this room might look like and do once I was done with them.
Lock in. Stop getting distracted. Stop feeling nervous about the possibility of failing a challenge and just try it.
First of all. Not getting kicked out. Or, at least, delaying getting kicked out. Now, it wasn't like I was actually interested in a career in the Merchants or even staying here for long at all - but making a bad impression and getting thrown out early could only be a bad thing. My power liked to build on existing relationships where it could, twisting and morphing what was already there as a preference. It wasn't like my power set a relationship to a certain level of friendship, it just... morphed something about them into something more palatable to me. Just as it was theoretically possible for someone to fall in love with me without a single challenge, it must be equally possible for someone to despise me so much that they still dislike me several challenges later. Sophia was still dishonest about her feelings, even to this day - and I had zero doubts that if I were to falter or humiliate myself somewhere, she would be too busy laughing and gloating to help me up.
I hadn't tested how possible it was to make a true enemy out of the people that I had fully 'cleared'. If I just treated Emma or Madison like trash continuously for no reason, would they come to resent me? Or were there high opinions of me being continually nudged by my power even now? I didn't truly know. Which was why I wasn't entirely sure if I was 'safe' to fuck this up or not. Even ending up with a case like Sophia would be a mess, I just didn't have the same level of reliable access to these people to ensure that their thoughts went in the direction I wanted - and without a talkative and all-too-honest challenge-self to talk to, I didn't have a great insight into their personalities either.
And that was saying nothing about the fact that this disguise wasn't real. Taylor, at least, was evidence that the general 'tug' in my direction would persist regardless of which identity I progressed the challenge under - but unlike Taylor, I wouldn't be starting from a neutral position when my power started to influence them. I would be a hero, their explicit enemy. Or, as Greg Veder, I would be an irrelevant non-Merchant with no reason to ever interact with their lives as Capes. Even if, through a stroke of luck, I was able to become 'friends' in this disguise - it would fall apart under any real scrutiny and that temporary bond would disappear the moment 'James' vanished for good. Or, worse - that bond wouldn't vanish and they might resist any advances by Greg and Void Cowboy because their old flame 'James' was still out there somewhere.
"Easy, boss." I smile winningly. "You'd already mentioned how you were looking for Mush. Figured I'd go ahead and grab her while you were talking. I didn't quite expect her to just bust down the side of the building like this, I was just planning to let her walk in and go back to waiting outside until she started dragging me along." I attempt to flex my shoulders to make a point. "Literally."
"Stop fucking talking." He snips at me. "I gave you one fucking job. To shut the fuck up, bark when I tell you to bark, do what I say and nothing more. You think I look at you now and see a real go-getter? No. I see someone that thinks they know better than me. Did I tell you to go find Mush? No. If I wanted you to get her, I would have said so. Don't you think so?" He sneers at my sheepish look of response. "Mush, tighten up that grip. I need to hear some sincerity from him." Mush shifts her grip slightly, but it doesn't feel any different. "I said TIGHTEN IT!" He practically screams the sentence out at her, flecks of spittle glinting in the air at the exclamation - immediately followed by all the wind leaving my lungs as Mush hastens to obey.
"G-got i-it. B-boss!" I wheeze out. Yep. Mush was definitely still on Team Skidmark once the chips were down. The camaraderie and jokes from earlier were real, but I could call it something similar to the friendships among the patrolling guards outside. Friends, yes. But if Skidmark told them to punch each other out for his personal entertainment, both sides knew that there wasn't really much of a choice.
So I'd try not to hold it against Mush. Not when I could practically feel the panicky shaking of her frame even through the layers of interconnected beams that kept us separate. Not when she'd loosened up almost immediately after getting the initial exclamation of discomfort out of me, the inner layer of her 'fist' remaining fixed in place even as the outer layer creaks ominously. A dramatic display for Skidmark's benefit... and a needless risk for her to take. Skidmark would be livid with her if he realised that I was actually breathing easier now than I was before he started screaming. All for someone that was still trying to do her best to not obviously glower impotently at me after the realisation that Skidmark never actually asked me to bring her here.
Not... a terrible person.
And that brought its own difficulties with it. If I could just write them off as evil, or know that they would be so utterly unrecognisable in a few challenges time that nothing I said or did really mattered - I could just act as I pleased in the most selfish way possible. And while I couldn't profess to be a saint or even to have selfless aspirations at all, I still liked to feel like I was kind of the good guy in all of this. Mush, even with her allegiance largely unchanged, already felt like 'my' girl in my head. If this all came to blows, did I really want to fight her just to keep up appearances? Not really. But I wasn't willing to just let Skidmark shoot me if he gets mad either, and I wasn't willing to sabotage 'Void Cowboy' and his heroic reputation by being overly soft against the Merchants.
It would be best if I could just solve it all here. We never attack the Merchants, because they all fall under my sway - right here and now. I wasn't arrogant enough to call it likely... but there was a chance.
A small one. I level a look at Squealer. The only one here that I hadn't challenged yet. And, generally speaking? I was getting pretty good at beating the first challenge for Capes these days without too many retries.
Squealer
Merchant Villain 1/6
(EVNT)
...but that was probably the worst modifier I could see. It wasn't much of a surprise. She didn't strike me as the straight-up combat type. Even if she got the 'tank' I kept hearing about, I was very comfortable that I could outmanoeuvre its fire long enough to slip inside and kill her in close range. Assuming it wasn't some, Tinkertech monstrousity with homing missiles, fully-automated turrets and anti-gravity thrusters or something silly like that. A standard tank, with some extra juice somewhere - I could definitely handle that.
But an EVNT modifier - that was a different story. Killing her wasn't necessarily the condition. Given her speciality... a race? That definitely felt like her 'thing', and my power would have all-too-many real life examples to pull data from when spinning together the simulation. She did races constantly, whether to just test her rides, show off how she could leave the cops behind or just to keep the gangs busy angrily chasing after her while the rest of the Merchants ran away - PHO was full of footage showing Squealer in her element.
Naturally, I'd seen it all. Would that help here?
Maybe. Or maybe the EVNT modifier wouldn't even do a fraction of what I was suspecting it would. Only one way to find out. "Challenge."
Silver flashes through my vision before establishing itself into semi-familiar grey walls splattered with grime and graffiti. My vision is briefly wrested away from my body, the disconcerting feeling of a 'cutscene' playing as I zoom through...
...some very-clearly marked streets. A racecourse. I fucking knew it. I regain control of my body as it shows the 'start line' - a rusty-looking garage littered with half-dismantled vehicles and power tools.
THE GATES WILL UNLOCK IN SIXTY MINUTES.
PASS THROUGH ALL CHECKPOINTS BEFORE YOUR OPPONENT TO COMPLETE THE CHALLENGE
ENEMY PARTICIPANTS WILL GAIN ENHANCED PHYSICAL ABILITIES WITHIN THEIR DOMAIN BEFORE THE GATES OPEN
THE ENEMY PARTICIPANT WILL RESPAWN IF KILLED OR DISABLED
A timer settles into the corner of my vision. Sixty minutes. Fifty-nine-fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.
Clearly, the intent was to give me - and presumably Squealer - time to cobble together a working machine out of the scrap around us, then use that to race. A test designed to favour Tinker abilities, rather than pure physical might. I didn't see Squealer here, but the distant sounds of clanging through the wall probably meant that she was just next door - already hard at work on her design.
Technically, with Leet - I had a Tinker ability. Technically. But I already knew that particular flavour of Tinker had some flaws to work around when working on big projects. And even if there weren't, Tinker's were like Thinkers - the powers were great, but they were a lot better when they could synergise with something that was already there. Leet's power wasn't shoving ideas into my brain and taking over, and I didn't have the natural talent to just dream up a design that would blow the specialist Tinker away in her own field. Not in a mere hour, anyway. What would I even make? Just because I knew that the teleportation pads or that one speedforce-like suit were theoretically possible, didn't mean that I could take the early levels of my variant of his power and match the efforts of what Leet could do with an entire workshop, a trained assistant, years of tools built up in their lab and weeks of work between each stream.
Even just visualising what I would need for a simple powered bike was a pain - a half-hearted sketch into the dusty floor at my feet sending alarm bells ringing as I run through it with Leet's power. Half a percent-chance for the power source to overload every time the steering was engaged. Two-percent chance for the brakes to lock up every ten seconds. More, minor things that wouldn't cause a major failure that I could ignore for now. I could see the workarounds, the ways to use those faults and take advantage of them - the surge in energy could top up a battery or energy supply somewhere if it could be harnessed. The brakes would fail because the cables were too close together in my hasty drawing - and the power would go into the accelerator instead for a massive boost. Useful, Leet would be thrilled at the opportunity to take advantage of that... but I didn't have the time, or the knowledge, to implement those extra features safely.
And then, even once those features were added - that was a new design. With new elements and 'quirks' that would suddenly appear. Finding a stable version to settle on probably took Leet multiple attempts and days of work at the best of times. I'd never seen them do a live Tinker-marathon or race like this, and it was pretty clear why.
But I couldn't just sit back and cry about it either. A powered vehicle that could beat Squealer was a step too far, too fast - fine. What did I have?
I consider my drawing, shaking my head before moving my hand over to wipe it out. My Tinker power lights up briefly, only to fade as I pull my hand away. I hover my hand back over the dirt drawing. It's ready to copy that design? I suppose I never had the chance to test if it worked on anything other than paper designs, thanks to that hefty cooldown on it. Did that mean I could pinch digital ones too? Not that Tinkers posted their work online that much, but if I could get into Armsmaster's lab... I could do something there. Hell, if I could find a way past the doors - I wouldn't even need to do it in person. The WRLD modifier had the kind of detail and fidelity I needed to get working passcodes and logins to half the PRT, why wouldn't Armsmaster's lab be the same? I'd never managed to get past the security before, but it couldn't be too hard with some dedicated effort - right?
Useless without Armsmaster's power to actually learn and use the designs. I remind myself of that one important fact. Getting ahead of myself.
I continue wiping away the design. Good to know, but this one wasn't going to work. Maybe if I had a few more hours - and I hadn't even considered if I actually had the materials my design wanted to hand. I wasn't going to out-Tinker the Tinker. So I needed a strategy.
First and foremost. I wasn't locked in here. Looking outside the only exit, the 'gates' were pretty obvious. It was basically a ZONE wall with a timer on it. But there was some space for me to move around outside this specific area and out into the city. Enough to roam around for more parts, or even try and set something up outside the garage if I needed. I wasn't allowed inside the 'start zone' yet, but exploration wasn't exactly forbidden.
Including Squealer's garage? Sabotage seemed a viable strategy. And not just by putting obstacles in her way. The challenge wouldn't need to give her 'enhanced' abilities in her area if it didn't need to protect her from me just... attacking her and stopping her from doing anything at all.
So, how enhanced was 'enhanced'? A minor Brute rating? Or something that would make Alexandria jealous? Because if I could stop her from making anything at all, then I could cruise to victory in my speed-state. Which I hadn't forgotten about. But fragility in that state aside, my speed-state was about as fast as a normal car cruising on a highway. Comparable to Glory Girl's top speed, and certainly more than fast enough to breeze past regular city traffic like it was standing still. Squealer wasn't going to be normal, and she certainly wasn't going to be obeying any speed limits.
From what I could approximate from the starting 'cutscene', I could probably clear the full track in under ten minutes with my speed-state. I'd be surprised if she couldn't whip something up that could do it in five if I left her alone. But the difference wasn't absurd enough to dismiss entirely. If I could just force her back to the start by killing her once, or destroy her original vehicle, that would be enough. I had a basic plan for that. Block her in with Clockblocked material to get a headstart, then I'd get one chance only to annihilate her car with a second round of time-locked string in an ambush later down the track before she overtook me for good.
That wasn't Plan A. That was Plan... D, or something. Because that was a gamble. If she dodged, or saw it coming, or had a powerful enough backup vehicle that she could scrounge together, or just took a route that I wasn't expecting - the challenge would be over. I'd never get another chance to get ahead of her and set up the trap at a high enough speed where it could stop her and shred her vehicle apart.
No. Plan A was simple. A betrayal of everything this challenge seemed designed to encourage. Something that probably wouldn't work in later challenges if this theme held true. My objective: To turn this into a foot race.
I phase through the wall rather look to navigate around the main entrance. Primarily to prove that I had escape options if the wall wasn't electrified, and also because it would be a lot harder for her to see me coming like this.
It's immediately obvious that whatever she's building, it's going to be a monster. Four engines have already been cannibalised and strung together at the back of her working area, and the shell of the design alone towers over both of us. If she wasn't a Tinker, I'd have labelled it as an over-designed monster truck and walked away confident that it would break down at the first corner. I knew better than to doubt Squealer in her own field.
This garage had more resources. More tools. More half-built vehicles to work with. I could deny her options, perhaps start ferrying things through the wall via my shadow state to stop her from completing her full design. But did I even know what I needed to take away? What, out of this entire workshop, was so critical to her design that it could not work without it? I didn't know. So that eliminated that option.
I could attack her vehicle directly, but my effectiveness wasn't guaranteed - Squealer was well-known for barely-working, lumped-together monstrosities. Far from the sleek, technical designs of Armsmaster - I doubted that doing my best to tear things off or phase screws into the engine would have the effect that it might have on a Tinker with... tighter specifications.
No. All of those things might help. And if I genuinely intended to match her in a Tinkering battle, or to construct something of my own - I might well have tried it. But I wasn't that good. Not done-in-sixty-minutes good. So the core part of my sabotage would be in the most vulnerable part of this vehicles construction: The builder.
"Get away from my ride, bitch!"
The tinker had just noticed my intrusion - and dashed towards me with a first-step that left an indent in the solid floor at her feet. Right. Physical boosts. I sway to the side, dipping and diving away from the untrained-yet-overpowered blows. A Brute rating, but not an absurd one. Yes, she just left a fist-sized imprint in concrete - but as was always the case, speed was the most important aspect. And even if she was faster, she wasn't fast enough to catch me through my host of defensive abilities.
Dip. Duck. Tilt head. If the timer was shorter, I could probably win like this. But constant dodging for sixty-minutes seemed like a tall order when every flailing strike threatened to decapitate me. Even if not for her Brute rating, I couldn't seriously fight her back either. The rules had warned that she would simply respawn if killed or disabled.
Hm.
Parian's power edges a loose thread from my shirt. I freeze it in place directly in the path of a haymaker. A wild, agonised scream emerges from her throat as she practically cleaves her arm in two - the offensive power of her new Brute rating apparently superior to the defensive aspect. To her credit, she keeps attacking. A crazed flurry of attacks that only worsens the blood loss, until even Brute-enhanced attacks slow to a relative crawl - as she limply collapses to the ground-
-only for a second Squealer to stomp over her disintegrating corpse with a bloodthirsty grin on her face and the same vigour that she started out with. No injuries on this one.
Good to know. Good to know. That would be the respawn the rules mentioned. It wasn't a surprise that it had happened, but the interesting part was the timing of when it happened - or rather, when it hadn't happened.
In the end, what did 'disabled' mean, exactly? My power hadn't used the term before in relation to me, but if I had to make an educated guess - I would say that it was some arbitrary line that prevented her from completing any of her objectives for the challenge. Death and unconsciousness obviously counted, and some scenarios were also a given - if I cut off all her limbs and threw her into a garbage bin, for example. She'd never be able to escape, so she'd just respawn in her workshop hale and hearty. But, the effect hadn't triggered after basically losing her right arm just now. Only when she succumbed to blood loss. So what if I just broke a few limbs and left her down the street instead? If there was nothing stopping her from crawling back to her workshop and resuming her task as ineffectually as she could - would that count?
That sounded like an idea to me. However impossible it might seem against the furious juggernaut facing me now, the rules had made it clear that this wasn't just a straight-up buff for her.
Within her domain.
That was the condition for the Brute rating. If I had to guess, that meant this specific workshop. So the second she took a step outside, did that make her a typical human being? That was my interpretation of the rules, and if my power was going to screw me over just because I actually bothered to read them for once - I was going to be pissed.
My ash clone surges to life and sweeps at her leg, I yank on her overextended arm as she stumbles - but I abort the throw and shift into my shadow-state before her other hand blurs through the air where my face just was. A bit too slow on that. I'd been a bit too surprised that it had worked. Her fist dismisses my clone an instant later.
I just needed to bait her over the line. Simply retreating does nothing, she stops a few metres clear of the exit and turns back to her vehicle - apparently debating whether to throw a wrench at me as I inch closer again. Got to trick her. Vista could do it if I could get to charge at full speed before shrinking the space in front of her, leaving her unable to stop or redirect herself before crossing the line. If the opportunity arose, I could try it - but that kind of wild charge just wasn't something she needed to do when I could barely get more than a few inches of breathing room between each strike.
But that same forced-closeness did offer another way to get her over the line. I'd just proven that I could throw her. It sounded stupid to try against a Brute, but she didn't weigh any more than she usually did. She wasn't rooted to the ground more than a regular person. In fact, she was lighter than most people I was used to throwing around at this point.
Dodge left. Backstep. Duck. I stall for the few seconds I need to get my ash clone back, Parian's power teases another thread out from my shirt in case I need it - but the original Clockblocked thread still hasn't faded yet. It could come back in two seconds or two minutes, I couldn't rely on it right now. I dance closer to the open exit of the garage, doing my best to make it not seem deliberate. Squealer hesitates to follow for a moment, only for me to slug her in the face for the indecision. Ineffective, but transitioning into a jab at the eyes does the job. She grabs my arm, attempting to snap it in two before it fades to smoke in her grip. She ineffectually chases for a moment longer, lunging at the still-physical parts of the limb-
-and my ash clone surges to life again next to me, as I grab her arm, pull her up and over me as I fall under her - plant two feet onto her torso and kick her up and over past me as I complete the roll. Ironically, the unyielding nature of her Brute rating actually helps the motion - and with my ash clone suicidally adding its strength to the move coupled with a quick shrinking from Vista, Squealer tumbles through the air with the grace of a sack of potatoes.
Not without consequence. She'd gotten a hand on my left foot - and I'd opted to keep the strength of the motion and delay the shift into my shadow-state rather than risk the strategy as a whole. So my foot... yes. Broken. Pulped, perhaps, would be the best way to describe it. This wasn't a simple case of a snap, but rather that her fingers had closed around it completely and not found any resistance until they reached her palm. My foot was more of a... soup, held in place by the remnants of my shoes.
But all for a worthy cause. Because suddenly, the pace of the fight had slowed. Drastically. My ash clone had remained on the offensive as I launch into a stumbling crawl after them. And this time, my ash clone wasn't being dismissed. The Brute rating was gone, just as I had hoped.
I give the furious, swearing figure a nasty grin. "No tinkering for either of us, I'm afraid." Squealer had some muscle, but little-to-no actual fighting experience. It takes mere moments to twist and snap an arm around and away - which only serves to make it easier to do the same to a leg.
Stop. The mental command to my ash clone is obeyed instantly. I couldn't go too far here. Not without risking crossing whatever arbitrary line my power had set to allow her to respawn. I have the clone drag her by one leg across the street, to the furthest corner on my side of the starting checkpoint - a shame that I didn't seem to be able to roam further, but I could deal with it.
Now, let her start to crawl back. I settle against the wall, idly watching my ash clone pace after the desperate attempts of the crippled Tinker to drag herself across the street back to her workshop - getting around halfway before being roughly dragged back to where she started.
Again. Again. My clone is fast enough to dodge the slow, sweeping kicks that Squealer attempts as it approaches - and even if the simulation is realistic enough to mirror a certain degree of vulgarity, there's no sense of giving up or even shifting her approach to begging like a real person would have by now. Idly, I wonder if its even possible for my foot to completely heal via my usual repeated use of the shadow state. It tended to put things back together slightly better than they were, but was there a limit to that? I could deal with it, obviously - I'd functionally earned myself infinite time here. But putting serious weight on it was a bit of a pain, the speed-state helps with that - letting me practically throw my near-weightless body around with a fraction of the effort.
Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Thirty. I take the time to peer at Squealer's half-started design, trying to probe the idea behind it with Leet's power for insights. Sadly, there wasn't a complete design document for me to look at - so I was limited to guesswork for the specifications of her planned vehicle.
Fourty minutes. I find myself sketching out the mecha-blade that Leet I had worked on with Leet. The recreated drawing was good. Too good. Swift, clean strokes and measurements springing to mind and onto the hasty sketch without even struggling to cast my mind back. Evidently, recreating past design documents was a free bonus with the Tinker powers. I idly burn the schematic into my held Tinker slot. I didn't intend to use it now, but I needed to know how this power interacted with my challenges. I'd have tested it before if I'd had some Tinker schematics to work with, I just hadn't expected that I could recreate the schematics myself to a level of detail that would satisfy my power.
Fifty minutes. I categorise the general types of metal and materials in her workshop, then pile it all up and set fire to it. Just for good measure.
At the sixty minute mark, the walls blocking us from entering the wider street fade away without ceremony. I leave my ash clone to its mission of bullying Squealer and slip it into my speed state. I mentally map out the track as I go, trying to think of good potential ambush spots and tricks I could pull out next time. Because there would most likely be a next time. My power liked to iterate on themes like this sometimes, and when I missed the point of the theme or sidestepped it somehow - I usually just got a slightly harder version that couldn't be exploited so easily.
A narrow spot in the marked road that could be a threat for time-locked objects. A pair of back-to-back blind corners that would make ambushes easy. A small U-turn at checkpoint four where I might have a chance to catch up if I fell behind. A corner through the docks that would send someone hurtling into the sea with a quick application of Vista's powerset to make them misjudge their approach.
Lots of options. But, none of them as good as just not racing in the first place. I couldn't afford to be arrogant and assume that Squealer couldn't surprise me. I'd already slowed myself down against Skidmark by doing that, if I had time for a half-dozen more attempts against him - maybe I could just brute-force the front-door entrance with a more fine-tuned approach. If I had been more deliberate in the earlier failed challenges, if I'd invested more effort into finding him in the crowd earlier - and then, after meeting him, been able to navigate the minefield of a conversation to keep him easily accessible... I could do it differently, if I could just redo the whole thing.
But these were the cards I had. And my best play was to assume that trying to beat Squealer at her own game was doomed to failure. I needed to make her play mine. Combat and treachery. It wasn't about matching her efforts, it was about making her as useless as my baseline self is - and then racing to the finish while she is busy sulking over the smoking wreckage of her masterpiece.
Not this challenge though. It wasn't needed this time around. But I was glad that I was thinking ahead. It was easy to get in the habit of just winging it sometimes, knowing that my power threw enough modifiers and curveballs that I would inevitably need to die a few times to get the trick of it. But nihilism didn't help anything.
I cross the final checkpoint at what would have been merely a gentle jog to the naked eye, thanks to my persistent limp - but there isn't any competition to hurry me along. My speed-state fades on its own as the world collapses around me.
Easy. Nicely done.
SUCCESS
Reward: Tinker: Vehicles (Rugged Designs) (1)
No second slot. Fine. I wasn't that surprised, the extras from Leet's first few rewards were likely just a one-time thing for getting my first Tinker power. I activate the power and let my mind wander on potential things I could build.
The speciality itself wasn't quite what I'd hoped for. A general vehicle tinker would have been fine. Movement in general would be even better. This sub-speciality seemed focused on the bulky, unstoppable aspects of her usual vehicles. Something that would be amazing if I wanted to build something that could withstand a tank round, or drive through a sandstorm or surge across a muddy trench somewhere. But my ambitions right now were a glider of some kind to help with Skidmark, and all of the ideas I was defaulting towards with this powerset were either too complex for me to do easily, or too large to fit into the instant-build 'box' that my power provided.
It was fine. Squealer was always going to be the hardest power to use out of my haul today. I'm not going to let myself get upset over one of objectively the best days I've ever had with this power - and I wasn't even halfway done yet.
Squealer
Merchant Villain 2/6
(EVNT) (CONT) (REAL)
The exact same modifier as last time, with a bit of an incentive to not fail - and most likely an additional bit of abuse from my competitor. I could almost hear my power daring me to try the same strategy again, see what happens.
I eye my Tinker slot, noting Leet's blade was still in there. So the held design could be smuggled in and out of challenges. That was good to know. Maybe it could help me prepare in challenges I was completely stuck on, taking in a prepared-design that I could easily find the right resources for - although I wouldn't exactly have many chances to iterate on my failures, the long cooldown on the ability ensured that.
"Challenge."
The cutscene is only slightly different this time. A longer route. Four more gates to pass through, the final three a mad dash along the coastline with little in the way of steering or tricks. A minor disadvantage to me, given that Squealer would definitely be able to max out her speed if she ever got that far - but my intentions were still to never allow her to have an honest race.
Same room. Same sounds next door.
THE GATES WILL UNLOCK IN SIXTY MINUTES.
PASS THROUGH ALL CHECKPOINTS BEFORE YOUR OPPONENT TO COMPLETE THE CHALLENGE
ENEMY PARTICIPANTS WILL GAIN ENHANCED PHYSICAL ABILITIES WITHIN THEIR DOMAIN BEFORE THE GATES OPEN
THE ENEMY PARTICIPANT WILL RESPAWN IF KILLED OR DISABLED
...same rules. No extra exceptions telling me that I can't go and bother Squealer.
Well. I couldn't entirely dismiss the idea that my power hadn't weighted things against me like that. I could just be dealing with a Squealer that was a little bit smarter, or had more of a priority on defence - or perhaps just had her challenge-provided Brute and Mover ratings enhanced to a level where even I couldn't hope to overcome the physical differences with skill and various defensive powers.
So I had to try. Even if I was doubtful that my power would let me get away with sidestepping the main thrust of the challenge twice.
I phase through the wall.
Pain blossoms in my mouth, my upper torso and my left arm - I'm already reeling back and hurtling back through the wall with my second charge before I even have time to register the honest-to-god autoturret attached to the ceiling of Squealer's workshop.
The taste of copper fills my mouth as I flop onto the floor. My arm would be fine. The torso wounds weren't the end of the world, I'd probably already be dead if it had hit my heart. Cheek wound, straight through both sides of the mouth. I'd been lucky to have my head turned, or it might have gone through the back of my throat instead - and I didn't trust my ability to heal from that in time.
Not that I trusted Shadow Stalker's healing abilities much at all when it came to serious injuries. I dump the last charge into a full-body phase. It was always a secondary aspect of her power that I appreciated, but rarely relied upon. It phases my fleshy body out, and when I phase back in - it puts things back together in a way that is slightly more 'correct'. It helped with avoiding scars or lasting cuts, but the effect was slight enough that it was only really that effective when done repeatedly over time. That had gotten easier now that I had the extra charges of the shadow state refuelling constantly - but still, nothing compared to what a real healing factor could do.
I shift into the shadow state again the instant my shortest charge recovers. One second at a time. I'd only tested this on minor injuries. Five charges could stop a simple knife cut across my palm from bleeding. Fifteen would remove every last trace that something had happened. How long would it take to close the bullet wounds in my chest? Would it be more efficient to only phase out certain parts of my body? I sink onto my back, a lethargic sense of weakness leaving me laying down in a steadily-expanding pool of my own blood.
"Woo! You deserve that. What, did you really think I would leave my babies unprotected? Think again, fucker! You're lucky Skids isn't here, a bullet in the skull would have been a mercy for even trying to fuck with me!" The triumphant call from next door seeps into my ears. These walls are pretty thin, I can hear every word and she clearly knows it. "Maybe think about your mistakes for a bit, or save us both the trouble and just off yourself the next time around!"
I grit my teeth. Ignore it. Or, don't ignore it. Get mad. Think of all the violent things I wanted to do to shut her up, get focused on that - and use that to keep awake enough to blow through my shadow state charges.
I phase again. Don't fall unconscious. That was the most important thing. Every phase I got off, took me one massive step closer to survival. Assuming I healed at the same rate all across my body, I would be stopping any internal bleeding just as quickly as the external wounds - and I already knew how fast those could be slowed and stopped. I didn't need to worry about anything else. Squealer wasn't going to chase after me and try to finish me off. She was focused on building her car. I could sit here and heal as much as I could unimpeded, aside from the occasional bit of mocking abuse she sent my way through the wall. That was as ideal as it could get, given the circumstances - most other opponents would have killed me while I was down. It almost felt a little strange having the challenge work in my favour for once.
Phase. Phase again. I spit blood off to the side. Apart from the faint whistling through my cheeks as I try and breathe, I'd say the lesser wounds were done. I shake off the sensation of dizzyness, belatedly realising that all of my charges were back. Phase. Phase. Phase. Had I lost unconsciousness for a moment there? Or, just a lapse of focus due to blood loss?
Doesn't matter. I was past the worst of it now. Phase out. This time, I start to push myself back out of the pool of sticky, goopy blood that had yet to decide if it wanted to congeal properly or not yet. Still a bit woozy. I brush my hand against my cheek. A definite hole, but already slightly patched over. A few more uses of the shadow state would fix that too.
Most importantly, the wounds had healed enough to stop bleeding - which probably meant that the internal wounds I'd suffered had stopped bleeding as well. It didn't really matter if a perfect recovery would need another ten shadow states or a hundred - I could just use it on cooldown until the time ran out while I was doing other things. Now that I wasn't at risk of outright dying, things could only get better.
27:52
Aside from the timer. That only got worse. A little over half my allotted time spent drooling on the floor as a barely-coherent mess. It was avoidable, honestly. I could see in my shadow state, so if I had devoted an extra charge to just taking stock of the situation before materialising I'd have still had the third charge to escape once the bullets started passing through me ineffectually. I could have sent my ash clone in first, even if it couldn't talk or relay its experiences to me - the instantaneous nature of its death after phasing through the wall would have been educational.
Too late to worry about that.
And it didn't matter anyway. I still wasn't intending to build, and any hope of completely sabotaging Squealer was already dead the moment that turret showed up. Maybe my ash clone could do a suicide run through and attempt to cause issues, but it was probably a futile effort at this stage.
No, this would be all about putting those tricks and traps I had scouted out in the previous challenge to use. The downside of that, was the strong possibility that the CONT modifier would still be in place next challenge as well - at which point...
I glance down at the dirt at my feet. At which point she would be too cautious to lose in the same way. She'd take the long way around, or make it run along walls to avoid being caught by me on the ground. Running into time-locked string was something she'd only fall for once.
So. Time to plan ahead again. Assuming I win this round, assuming I can slice her vehicle to ribbons or pile it into the sea before she can overtake me - how was I going to win the third challenge?
Tinkering, I suppose. I didn't have another set of trump cards, other than turning the course into a deathtrap. I still had the Tinker slot. Having seen the first level of Squealer's power, there was no point trying to save it for Skidmark - it wanted too much for even a conservative design to fit within the 'box' that the slot could paste the design into. I might not be able to conjure up the absurd wizardry of some of Leet's better inventions at my current level, but I understood what the power actually wanted me to do - and that had to count for something.
And I didn't need to entirely make my own design. The Tinker power I was drawing from was 'Prototype', after all. Take a base design, and start adding to it. More features. New ideas. Every invention a step above the last, forced onwards by the ever-increasing probabilities of the quirks in the original design making themselves known. And even if I only had one design made by someone that knew what they were doing - the mecha-blade designed for a robot several times my weight and size - that was a pretty useful design to start with when I really, really wanted to just destroy Squealer's tank in the kind of straight-up fight that she would never expect after my intended plans for this race.
I lean down to scrawl on the floor. I wasn't a mech, so the power systems that fed the slicing motion of the blade would be the first issue. Fortunately, I had plenty of space and weight to sacrifice if I wanted it to be human-portable. If I could settle it over my arms and shoulders as if I was fulfilling the control systems and aiming, I wouldn't need to keep any of the more complex joints - I wasn't sword-fighting here, one angle was more than enough if it had enough power to cleave Squealer's ride in half. No hydraulics, I don't have the materials. I'd need to liberate one of the engines in my garage as a starting source of power, but the sheer amount of power that the blade would want to generate would burn through too much to allow it to be portable over the course of the race.
Not a problem if I just attacked her right out of the starting gates. I didn't need longevity, I'd either destroy her or lose immediately - no in-between. There was a question of if I actually had the right materials to stand up to the pressures the blade would output on the frame holding it, and I was pretty sure that the answer to that was no. If I didn't want it spinning uselessly, I'd need to either ground it or fill that role myself. The latter, probably. No getting around it, I would probably break my arms using it, especially if the critical failure happened to trigger - a greatly enhanced possibility given that this was the second iteration of the design, however different it would be. It wasn't a bad thing, I knew about it, I could use it - I might even need it, depending on how beefy her final design ended up being. I didn't need working arms anyway, my legs alone could take me to the finish line if Squealer was out of the picture.
I note the timer absently as it ticks down to the final two minutes. I'd really lost track of time here. The design wasn't done - or, it was fully functional, but it didn't fit in the 'box' that my power could paste in and my scrounging of the workshop hadn't quite located all of the materials required. I needed some time to fit some more compromises in somewhere. But, that was the great part about doing this planning in advance with full access to all the materials that I was likely to have around me: I wasn't even planning to use it this round. This was next round's plan, which meant I would have another hour to pull off the finishing touches I needed.
Or, if I was really lacking in confidence - there was no reason I couldn't sub out some of the work into a completely unrelated challenge against a stranger. I wouldn't have the materials at hand to verify I could build every change I made, but sketching out every joint and bolt took time even if I knew roughly what I wanted to do.
Squealer has already lined up at the entrance of the 'gate'. Not that it was the best way to describe it. 'Checkpoint one', perhaps? Something that didn't have the implication that it stopped us from leaving. We could sidestep around it, but the rest of the city just wasn't very interesting. The usual empty streets and abandoned houses that were so typical of the challenges that wanted to be completed in a certain way.
Last chance to see Squealer's design before things got too hectic. I take it in for a few seconds. This was probably what my adapted mecha-blade would have to cut through when I made it next round, assuming all went to plan here. I was fortunate that it, at least, wasn't an actual tank. No obvious weapons to speak of. But it was the armour I was most interested in. I couldn't claim to be a true materials expert, but at a glance... if the blade could cleave through Leet's mechs, it could go through that even if I had opted to sacrifice a bit of power. She'd clearly prioritised speed and manoeuvrability rather than the thickness of the armour or protecting the core underneath it. That worked for me. As long as I didn't tip my hand, I had two unique paths to victory that she wouldn't have accounted for in her design.
"You're really going to try and beat me on foot?" Squealer pops out of a hatch at the top long enough to ask the question. "You do know my speciality, right?"
"I'm aware." I nod. "Junk on wheels, everyone knows it."
"Junk? Junk!?" She takes the bait as expected, zeroing in on me with a hateful expression. "You can talk shit about me, I don't give a fuck. But nobody talks down on my babies, got that?"
I purse my lips. I hadn't expected her to just brush off any trash-talk, but that angle was apparently more effective than I had anticipated. All the better for my ash clone, wielding Parian's power to run the biggest length of string that I could freeze through every open hatch and exposed axle it could find from range. Without the opportunity to see me in action before, she had no idea that there were potentially two 'people' to watch out for - so the possibility of someone exploiting her line of sight to levitate some string towards her truck would never occur to her. It was unfair, certainly. There was, functionally, nothing she could do to avoid this opening blow without knowing in advance - and that was exactly what I wanted for all of my challenges. Enough tricks that I would run out of a person's challenges before I ran out of exploits.
"I don't see any reason to talk shit about you. It's hardly your fault that you got such a terrible power. You work so hard as a Tinker, and you end up with that?" I make an expressive gesture at her vehicle. "I'll be amazed if the wheels don't fall off in the first few seconds."
"Oh, you're dead." She promises. "We'll see how you like the wheels when they're pasting your skull into the dirt! Fucker! I'm going to run you over the first thing I do, that's a promise."
"If you can get off the starting line." I give her a winning smile as she ducks back into her vehicle. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven. The tip of the string floats out from under the bottom of the car to meet me as I sidle closer to meet it. Squealer makes a threatening gesture, but clearly mirrors or cameras were overlooked in this design, because she doesn't seem to notice the light brush of my finger against the thread before I return to my 'side' of the street.
Three seconds. Squealer revs menacingly, belching out smoke from all sides of her creation. I shift into my shadow state, the brief moment of paralysis taking over. Two. One. The gates vanish as the world slows down for me, treating me to the beautiful sight of Squealer attempting to accelerate to her top speed with all the power of multiple frankenstein-ed engines with every possible safety feature removed - only for all of that power to go towards the noble goal of separating cables and axles into pieces. The burst in speed would probably have been impressive, even in my speed-state I could see how it lunged forward - only for the rest of the frame to find that it was held tight as if stuck in solid concrete. Judging from the hissing scream, the result hadn't just been a complete deadlock akin to some overpowered brakes - the steady drip of fluid starting to form underneath the car as I hotfoot it away is a sign that my ash clone really did some magic with the string.
God I love this power combination.
And the best part? She now had a choice between diagnosing the problem, or trying to win the race. Sure, if she waited around for a minute or three - my time lock would fade, most of her vehicle would be usable with some minor tweaks, and she'd doubtless recognise Clockblocker's power in action if she hopped down to take a look - costing me the element of surprise the next time she ran into me.
But she would lose if she did that. And while it was hard to judge in cases like this where my power bothered to simulate personalities, I knew that these simulations hated to lose above all else. They had priorities, and stopping me was right at the top of them. Without the benefit of repetition and frustration, Squealer wasn't thinking about how to stonewall me next round - she was thinking of how she could still win this one. And that meant getting back into the race now, rather than spend precious minutes and seconds to see what I had done.
And if I was wrong? Then she'd sit there analysing and fixing the damage for at least a few minutes at the absolute minimum - and my lead would become utterly unassailable. Win-win. There was a reason I'd felt so confident in victory that I'd spent my given time for this round plotting for the next one.
I'm a little over halfway through the course when the roar of an engine roars in the distance. Here she comes. I should just assume that she's fast enough to catch up, rather than committing to a race that I might lose. I consider my mental map of the race course. Checkpoint nine, overlooking the Boat Graveyard - a narrow road with a tight corner leading through the logical route through the checkpoint - I could make it there and set up an ambush before she caught up.
I'm right. Barely. Squealer must have already had a backup vehicle prepared - or her initial one had some backup to it - because she's far closer than I had expected. I barely have time to set up another string across the centre of the road and hide around the corner before she comes screaming down the road towards me. A sleeker design than what she started with, I couldn't tell at a glance if it was part of the first vehicle I saw or just a secondary one that she had bashed together. Not important. What was important was that it had eaten up my lead in mere minutes - racing her straight-up was even more futile than I thought, I figured she would maybe manage to average about 50% faster than sprinting in my speed-state - going up to double on the final straight. Instead, she must be doing at least double my speed on the turn-heavy, obstacle laden start of the course - with an additional top speed that I had yet to even see.
What a pain for thinking of future ways to beat her. But it didn't matter how fast it was this time.
Because you couldn't break Clockblocked objects with pure speed. Those objects would break you.
Her new ride doesn't split down the middle as it crashes into the tripwire-like obstruction, but it does crumple around it - coming to a halt in a scrunched-up ball of screeching metal before I can even blink. I duck away as my forcefield tanks a hit from stray debris and flickers to nothing. I step closer to the wreckage - then stop. It's immediately obvious that there's no need to find and restrain Squealer. The few parts of her body that haven't been turned into salsa only survived by virtue of crashing through the windshield separately instead. Apparently seatbelts weren't a priority for this design. Not that they would have helped at all, but still.
She'd have respawned already. I don't see how she would have the time to make another backup vehicle beyond this one, but I should get going anyway. Back into the speed state I go.
True to expectations, I don't even hear a whisper of activity behind me when I jog across the finish line eleven minutes later.
SUCCESS
Reward: Squealer +
As expected. I spare a glance at Squealer herself, looking for any changes in her attitude. Nothing too obvious. Looks like she's still firmly on Team Skidmark. Fine.
If I win two in a row, that would probably start to change.
Better get on that, see where I end up. The way I might approach this conversation with over half of the participants halfway-mastered and the way I would approach it with all of them willing to help hide my body were entirely different.
Squealer
Merchant Villain 3/6
(EVNT) (CONT) (REAL)
No difference. Not even an extra modifier. That almost gives me more pause than seeing something like BERS or GANG being added, at least I had some idea of how different the approach would need to be.
Or, was the trick purely in the CONT modifier? I knew for a fact that Squealer could make cars that could fly, and who even knows what else besides - was this something closer to a gauntlet, where I have to race my way through her challenges before she does Tinker bullshit to improve her ride so much that she completes the course in ten seconds flat?
"Challenge." Having a Thinker power would be nice. Pre-cog. Would it work with my challenges? Probably not. That sounded too convenient for my power to allow.
Same course. No changes this time. Same introduction. Same timer. Same location.
What's not the same, is the fact that twenty-four seconds into our prep time, the wall dividing our two workshops collapses - and the exact truck that Squealer had on the start line at the previous challenge trundles over the rubble.
"Bet you think you're real smart!" Squealer crows at me through her speakers as I stagger backwards, ash clone already stirring to life next to me. "Well. Good for you. I wanted an honest race, on account of me being such a honest and upright person." I don't hear a trace of sarcasm in her voice. "But no, I see that was a mistake."
I cough, waving away dust from my face. "All's fair in love and war?" She shouldn't have her Brute rating inside my workshop, but unless I could actually reach her through the cockpit - that wasn't something I could use. Three uses of my shadow state - could I make it there in three seconds? Maybe, maybe not. I'd be relying on absolutely no electricity being present in the lower workings of the vehicle that I would be trying to jump up through - and that seemed like a long shot. Maybe with Vista, I could find an angle to go through the windshield? It wouldn't do anything if she reversed, or if she had weapons that could hurt or disrupt my shadow state - not something I usually needed to worry about, but I didn't fight many Tinkers.
She continues morosely. "It's my fault, I get it. Skids would have set me straight if he was here - treat it like a real competition, knock the fucker's dead so they never get the chance to fuck you - that's what he'd have said." I edge one foot in front of the other. A trio of turrets emerge to point at me. "Don't fucking move. Bitch." She doesn't change her tone. "I won't lie, I'm not used to being on my own - no backup like this. Doesn't sit right with me, after all this time. Never been a leader. But, I know what Skidmark would say. What he would want to do. In some ways, it's like he's still right here."
"You're probably the only person in the city that actually likes the guy." I throw out. It was true. A miracle even to me.
Something bright skims off of my forcefield. I let out a tight grin. Great. Didn't even see the gun twitch before I was hit. So much for watching the lasers charge and dodging based off of that or something. Movies lied to me.
"He's got good ideas. A vision. Ambition. Strength. Up here." She taps her head. "The Merchants started from nothing, and grew up under the noses of every major power in the city. No consequences. Nobody's afraid we're going to get too strong, or have too much influence. Nobody checks to see who the 'independent' drug dealers report to. None of the Capes are going to admit to being scared of a guy called Skidmark, or his girl called Squealer. Joke names, right? Why would they call themselves that, are they stupid? Works well. We don't get bothered, and all it cost was a little disrespect from people we don't like anyway."
I raise a hand. "I've always been curious actually, were the names supposed to be a car thing - or just a generically rude thing? PHO always used to argue about it, but now you've got someone called Mush and I just don't see the relevance to cars. Does that mean that your name was always a sex thing or-" My forcefield flickers and dies again. Just recharged that too.
She gives me a disgusted look. "And here's the downside of that strategy. No respect from people at all until we teach it the hard way."
"Well, the way you talk about him - you should be pleased that Skidmark's plan is working so well, right? I think this is the first time I've seen someone in these challenges actually hype up someone else like this." My eyes practically glow as I take in her expression. "It's interesting, because it means those thoughts are core enough to your personality that my simulation picked it up. You're a little bit too dependent on him, don't you think?"
"We're partners, was that supposed to be a 'gotcha'?" She quizzes, bemused.
"PHO will be glad to have their suspicions about your low standards confirmed." I drawl. It wasn't a deal-breaker. Clara's 'boyfriend' had worked out pretty well for me. This would be no different, either because Skidmark would become a hot chick too - or Skidmark would get to become a cuck. I was fine with either. Or both.
Hell, I might even enjoy the process of stealing Squealer away from Skidmark. It would be hard to find a more deserving target.
"And, no. Wasn't really trying to make a point out of anything." I shrug. "Just talking to myself, noting down a weakness I can use - speaking out loud is a good memory trick, I've always found."
"Hardly a weakness." She scoffs. "And you're talking to me, in case you forgot."
"You're not a person." I counter instantly. "You don't matter. You're an aspect of my power simulating the real world, and not much more than that. Your only value is in losing, and giving me insight into the real person you're trying to emulate."
Maybe it was rude to point out, but I wasn't about to start being polite to someone that clearly intended to kill me once she finished gloating. This wasn't like how Sophia's challenge had ended up. She hadn't been so explicitly opposed to me in her mission, but I would wager that nothing short of a Master power would stop Squealer from using any means to win this 'race'. Including, apparently, driving the next best thing to a tank through the wall to kill me before I could even start on a plan to oppose her.
"Is that what you think?" She shrugs. "Let's not waste either of our time then. Let's just call this returning the favour, since you obviously have no intention of racing properly."
I tense, cycling through powers rapidly. Attack, or defend? Three seconds could be enough to escape through the other wall behind me, and I'd only need a momentary pause to escape the general vicinity of the workshop - but equally, there was no reason she couldn't just charge her vehicle through that wall too and crush me as I try and enter my speed state. I could attack, I'm certain I would win if I could get into the cockpit - but I'd be charging right into a trio of obviously-Tinkertech weapons that were primed and ready. "You know, I figured it was just going to be that kind of race - but if you want something a little more honest, I'm sure I could-"
"Too late." She dismisses - and the fight is on.
The first shot goes wide, the work of Vista's power shrinking space at an angle in front of me. I'm already moving, my ash clone spinning to life as I phase out and-
FAILURE
-tumble to the ground bonelessly as my shadow state abandons me, a gaping hole apparent in my torso as I find myself staring down at my own corpse.
"Annoying." I mutter. Lasers do work on my shadow state. Or, some of them, at least. Noted. Not that many people used them in the Bay. Coil's mercs, if they were even still around these days. Kid Win. Gallant? The mechanics might be different on that one, I'd need to find out what it was about the lasers that could damage me - a certain type of energy? Heat or light? Did it have to be Tinkertech, or would weaker, more mundane technologies work too? I wasn't even that worried about my future challenges, but rather my real-life self. The shadow state was right at the core of my defensive abilities that I trusted to keep myself alive and well. I could always rechallenge my simulations another day, but I was pretty sure no respawns were going to happen in real life.
That was frustrating. Super frustrating, because I had a plan. A great plan. A plan that would still work, even now that I knew she was going to try and kill me from the outset every time. I just hadn't anticipated that she would be willing to stray from the challenge 'rules' personally, even after experiencing her previous defeat via the CONT modifier.
And, not to mention, I was pretty sure she didn't start out with a fully-functional vehicle like that the first time. Whether that was just the starting resources she got at this level of the challenge, or if it was a particularly disgusting synergy between a Tinker and the CONT modifier to carry the fruits of their power forward - I couldn't be sure.
It wasn't completely doomed. I didn't really need the workshop for my plan to work, my Tinker power would work just as well on any random crap that I could gather together from the abandoned buildings along the edge of the racetrack and deeper into the ruined city. I had a solid few seconds from the start of the match to escape, which was presumably Squealer getting into her vehicle, starting it up and steering it in the direction of the wall dividing us - I could easily slip out of the side and be gone in the twenty-or-so seconds it took for her to do that. I could come back later once the race was about to start, armed with my adjusted mecha-blade - and I'd be golden.
But even if the plan still worked, it couldn't be done right now. It was the third challenge. The cooldown next to Squealer proudly declared the start of a ninety-minute timer before I could try again.
I'll admit it stung. Got a bit too cocky, a bit too confident that I was the only one that could and would game the rules of the challenge if given the opportunity. At least I hadn't revealed my hand, if she'd tried that a few minutes later - I'm pretty sure she'd have been able to deduce the purpose of the mecha-blade if I'd had the chance to copy-paste it into the world.
No. That wasn't a problem. The inconvenience was temporary. The problem-
"U-um, should I let him go now?" Mush tentatively suggests. "I think you've reminded him that you're the boss, so-"
"Shut the fuck up." Skidmark snaps. "Don't think this is all about him. This is about you too. Where the fuck have you been? I explicitly told you to be here, and you think you can just sneak out? I thought I made it all real clear how things worked in the Merchants last time, and yet here you are - leaving me out to dry again. I really think I'm just being too nice, and people think I'm a fucking joke for it. That's what we were just talking about back in there, wasn't it - Seven?" He sighs heavily. "What do I have to do to make it stick?" He tilts his head towards his partner. "Squeals?"
She straightens. "You're right, Skids! They're not appreciating your leadership properly. Gotta teach em a lesson."
"I'm appreciating it! I really did have a good reason for not being around-" Mush attempts, but falls silent as Skidmark turns to glare at her.
"One nobody getting a little too big for his britches. One dumb bitch with powers too scatterbrained to remember who the boss is around here." Skidmark paces back and forth for a moment, then turns to me. "Set him down." He orders, and Mush hastens to obey. He circles around me. "What do I do with you. A part of me isn't really that mad, you know? Because, you know? I really did want Mush here, give her a piece of my mind after skipping out on the one part of the event I specifically instructed her to be there for-" We both ignore the audible gulp above us. "-and maybe in a regular gang, this would have earned you some real kudos. A nice pat-on-the-back for being such a smarmy little go-getter." He pauses in his circling, hands coming up to grip my face. "Am I right? That makes sense to you, doesn't it?"
"Yes boss." I grind out.
"But does this look like a regular fucking gang to you?" He hisses at me, eyes wide and pupils almost seeming to spasm. "Do you think this is a fucking meritocracy? You think that you do a good job, fucking Santa is going to swing by and give you a fat bonus and a promotion? Is that what you think?" He doesn't give me a chance to answer. "Well it fucking isn't! This is MY gang, we go by MY rules and do things MY way. You want to move up in the gang, you've got to shut the fuck up and gargle my balls if I tell you to. And if I don't tell you to do something, you don't fucking do a goddamn thing. You think I got the gang this far, without getting stomped flat by the slanty-eyed fucks or the Nazis, by letting people do whatever the fuck they want? No. Everything goes through me. Someone gets the bright idea to expand our business into Lung's heartland, I don't give a fuck if it makes us ten billion dollars a week - it better have fucking gone through me or I'll have his fucking balls served up on a platter! You think you're different? You think you're better?" He pauses. "Tell me!"
I spy an opening in the conversation. "Sorry boss." This wasn't the Skidmark I'd seen earlier in the evening. That one had been a thug, but a thug in good company. Who wanted to look strong and in control to all the people around him. To be seen as a good sport, a good leader. This one... just looked like he was halfway towards deciding to shoot me in the head. I was suddenly wishing that I had a proper audience again rather than his two loyal Capes.
"And that should be the end of it, should it? We shake hands, promise not to do it again, and walk away?" Skidmark questions. "Absolutely fucking not! Do you think I'm a joke!?"
His leg comes up, and I have the smallest fraction of a second to reluctantly deactivate my forcefield before his foot plants itself into my crotch. I double over around the blow, sinking down momentarily with an involuntary whimper of pain. No matter how many gory ways I've been killed, nothing quite trumps the natural response to that feeling. What a piece of shit, doing that to his fellow man - even I rarely did that with life and death on the line. What was his excuse?
"See, I think this is more serious than that. Some fucking lowlife piece of shit, who doesn't seem to get how things work around here, sees that he's fucked up and doesn't even seem to realise how badly he's fucked up. If I shoot you, right now-" He waves a delicate pistol in the air. "-not a single fucking soul will know or care about what happened to you. I can toss your corpse into a dumpster, and you'll be in good company - don't worry. I can do whatever the fuck I want around here, so if you want to live - maybe you should really start considering the fucking consequences on the table here!"
I swallow lightly as I push myself back up to a standing position. In hindsight, this whole thing was an overstep. I had a good thing going infiltrating the party. I could have just waited, seen how things unfolded - but I'd seen the chance to go all-in and tag every Cape in the gang, and hadn't been able to resist. I was happy with the results from a power-perspective, it was just...
...I didn't like this situation. I wanted to go back, three, four minutes in real life time and just ditch Mush after getting back into the entrance. I maybe could have gotten a glance at Squealer as she entered without me after slipping away, and I could have gotten everything the same... without the bit where the increasingly unstable, furious drug lord was stalking circles around me with his twitchy finger on the trigger. Every time the gun jabbed forward, I had to disable my forcefield in case he accidentally knocked against it - just a few millimetres above my skin. Moments of vulnerability, but so far, he'd either been keeping a distance or had pressed the gun against somewhere less lethal - evidently considering shooting out my kneecaps or something similar instead.
If he pointed it at my head, I was going to attack. I could likely survive everything else with my shadow state, but I wasn't lowering my forcefield for that. Not for an infiltration that was looking increasingly doomed.
He smirks. "Hah. That's a better expression. Fear. That's a good start."
What?
...was I afraid?
The gut reaction to that thought was a macho one. I'd faced far worse in my challenges. And even in real life, plenty of people had pointed a gun at me during my regular patrols. Oni Lee would have happily killed me if he had the chance - and he had definitely tried. This was nothing in comparison. A tense conversation with someone that I'd pissed off a little, nothing more.
But they hadn't quite been like this. Those had been fights, when the blood was pumping and all bets were off. I'd never been in any doubt that an attack might be coming, always been sure about what my response should be.
And I didn't have that here. It was an uncomfortable position, not knowing if this was simply a power move - where the appropriate apologies, begging and acting would be enough for me to get away unscathed and into an advantageous position - or if this was something more serious. I didn't know. I didn't have that kind of insight into Skidmark. I'd thought that I had an idea based on PHO comments and my own observations, but the reality was that this man was currently experiencing near-enough every reason-inhibiting vice known to man all at once. The drugs. The drink. The fury. The wounded pride. Any psychological assessment was useless here, and that made him impossible to predict.
...and, maybe, yes. That put me on edge. Not the kind of fear that had you trembling at night, too scared to move - but the nervous tension of staring down a predator, hoping silently that both of you can just walk away.
Or, not. It would genuinely be a relief if he tried to kill me. I had plans for that. Skidmark was weak in close quarters in general, so long as he didn't have any charged-up fields on his costume - which he didn't. Mush couldn't do anything to me as long as I stayed close to her allies. Squealer wouldn't be able to do anything until she got to her tools or vehicles - both of which were more than a few paces away and I doubted her ability to contribute for the same reasons as Mush. I'd need to hurry and escape before the guards came to see the commotion, but between my ash clone and I - there would be no issues overcoming Skidmark and neutralising him. He was the only one that could slow or prevent my escape with his fields, at which point I could utilise Vista's power to reach and then phase through the wall to the right - dropping me in a fenced-off parking area where the guards weren't patrolling. Speed-state, leave - nobody would be able to spot or catch me by the time the alarm was truly raised.
Easy. Textbook. It was one of the most obvious, likely outcomes of this scenario - I'd be a fool not to consider potential ways to escape with my cover blown. I could do it. I was confident in it. Should I do it? What were the downsides? What were the potential upsides of staying? With ninety minutes on Squealer anyway, was it better just to leave and come back for the real assault later? Maybe not. Being infiltrated by a Cape would probably be the end of this party.
What if he was pointing a gun at the back of my head right now, as he circles around behind me? I had my forcefield up, but what if he tried to punch me - and realised I was a Cape? Was he that crazy, or was this just intimidation to let off some steam?
"See, if you're afraid - you're starting to understand the situation. Realising that I've got all the fucking power here - and your position, is one where you need to beg me not to use it." He continues. "But even if you look scared, you don't look sorry. That's the problem I've got with you." He leans in. "You look pissed. You look angry. You look like you want to fight me."
I shake my head. "That ain't me, boss." I cough. "Just a bit tense, that's all-"
A spike of pain in my leg. The dull roar of a bullet. It takes me a moment to realise that I've been shot, and I'm already on the ground by the time the thought registers. I grit my teeth, dismissing the instinctive ash-clone summon before it can form a noticeable eddy in the air. Not a fight. Not yet. Or, should I fight? This felt like a flex from him, but what if he just kept shooting me until it was too late to fight back? Was this my best chance? Or- I stifle those thoughts. They didn't help. What helped the most right now was making appropriately agonised sounds. Something that came pretty natural to me right now, funnily enough.
He looms over me as Squealer and Mush do their best to look interested in the wall and ceiling. "And you're still fucking lying." He scowls. "Too much ego. Too much attitude. That's the reason I didn't want people like you in with the rest of us in the first place, because you look at everyone here and think you deserve better. The people around here, they understand how things work - they know when to push for more, when to keep it to themselves. Some new punk comes in with no understanding of the rules that keeps this place running, nobody wants to see that."
I still my groaning. I was stronger than this. Just needed to pilot my way out of this, and I'd be back in control. "Sorry." I attempt again. "I'll do better next time."
"You're saying the words, but I don't believe you." He leans in. "You think I don't know what it looks like, when someone is looking down on me? You still think that you're better. Even now. You think Ol' Skidmark is too shitfaced to notice? Hm? Or are you going to call me a liar?"
"I really don't! You've got me all wrong." I raise my hands up, still unable to push myself up from the ground. "I was just trying to above and beyond, prove myself a little - didn't expect it to be taken all that seriously. Again, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"You'll call me a liar then." He nods. "Kiss my boots."
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me. Pucker up." He gestures downwards. "You're really trying to convince me that you're sorry? That you understand your place in the system? That you understand that I'm the fucking boss? You really want to claim that you don't have the kind of ambition or ego that just won't work around here? Then crawl along the fucking ground and kiss my shitty boots. Thank me for the privilege."
I grimace, not moving.
His eyes twinkle knowingly at me. "Shouldn't this be easy? We're in good company. It's not exactly a public humiliation. All you've got to do is show your sincerity. I'll forgive everything. Even pay for that leg of yours to be fixed up right. It's not too much to ask, is it? If you're really sincere, I don't see any reason why you would hesitate at all."
"I'm not doing that." That's it for the infiltration. But... Skidmark was right. I did have too much of an ego here. The right amount of ass-kissing would probably be enough to appease Skidmark, but... it was also Skidmark. I'd already stretched the limits of my patience and ego just pretending to be his subordinate for a while. I wasn't going to humiliate myself just to hope he gave me another chance. Even with the promise of turning the tables a bit faster, it was one disgrace too far. He was right. I did think that I was better than pretty much everyone here. I did deserve better. I did deserve to be on top.
And I wasn't willing to pretend otherwise.
"Yeah." Skidmark murmurs softly. "I figured you would say that." His boot crashes into my face at full power. Broken jaw? No, it didn't feel that bad. Still painful. I go with the blow as best I can, exaggerating the impact slightly. "Then we're done talking."
The air around me turns green.
The feeling of being hurtled back by a concentrated field being placed on top of me is familiar by this point. The second field to blast me through mid-air? That was new. I didn't know he could do that. Actually, no. He probably just set that one up in advance and just flung me into it - I just never saw it because I hadn't turned around.
I activate my forcefield as I tumble through the air - ground or wall, I didn't want to land on my head at this speed - especially as I get sent at an angle through a third field. Then a fourth.
Then the hole in the wall that Mush had made entering. Or, at least, that was what Skidmark had been aiming for. He either slightly miscalculated, or didn't care if I died - because I glance off the edges of it - sending me into a wild spin and bringing half of the already-damaged wall coming down around me while my momentum keeps me rolling and bouncing further into the courtyard. The lights and sounds of the party coming to a momentary pause as Skidmark steps through the enlarged hole in the wall to follow in my wake.
Ouch. As much work as the forcefield did there, it was already gone by the time I hit the actual ground and started to slow. I can't move around too much to check, but I've got a broken rib or three from that - and my right arm isn't much better. He definitely didn't care if he killed me or not with that. My face is bleeding, and I wouldn't be surprised if I've picked up a number of other cuts and bruises while coming to a stop.
And a normal person would definitely be struggling after hitting the wall like that, assuming that they hadn't outright died. So the smartest thing I could do right now, was not draw any attention to the fact that aside from a few bruises and cracked ribs - I was actually in pretty good shape. I'd beaten plenty of challenges in far worse shape than this.
Of course, this was real life - things were a little different. But my confidence in my own skills was unchanged. And now? Without that uncertainty hanging over my head? Even with a few light injuries, I was already feeling far better than I felt inside. I was getting kicked out. I had a clear objective, just to follow that outcome to the end - and keep myself safe while doing it. I could heal from all of this eventually. And if he intended to kill me, he probably wouldn't have thrown me out here for everyone to see. It wasn't like I'd betrayed the gang or anything, I'd just offended some his sensibilities in a way that he had taken way too personally. He didn't want to be seen as someone who executed people randomly - not in public, at least. But flexing his powers like this on an easy target? I probably should have guessed that would be his preference.
"Sorry cocksuckers, just taking out the trash." Skidmark drawls. "This smarmy little shit seemed to think he was too good to be out here partying with all of you, and you know? He seemed to think he was too good to be following orders inside too. What do you all think about that? Think this stupid little cunt is the kind of person you want for a leader? Should I be quaking in my boots that he's coming for my position?"
I do my best to not move as the crowd laughs and jeers. Supposed to have broken limbs, Greg. Just wait. He'll get bored of it.
Skidmark reaches my position. "Ah, guess they don't love you that much after all. And you seemed so popular earlier too, shame you had to fuck it up." Skidmark paces closer to me. "It's not a surprise. Truth be told. I figured this was how you would end up the moment you asked to get inside. It was only a question of how long it would take. I could have denied you there, but I actually like the steady supply of new idiots coming here - not actually part of the gang, thinking they can make a big splash because they think we're a joke. We don't lose anything no matter what happens to them, and everyone already here gets a great reminder of how things work on the regular. Thanks for being today's example. A regular fucking hero, that's what you are."
He spits, and the slick sensation of wetness appears on my neck. Gross.
"You're not welcome in my party. This is for real Merchants. Cos we're all a big family. Ain't that right?" A roar surges up from the crowd in response. "We don't need fucking leeches who think that they deserve better than everyone else, for no fucking reason!" The crowd cheers again. "We don't want any fucking morons stopping us from becoming the top gang in the city!" Another roar. "The only thing keeping us from that goal this whole time, has been our number of Capes - and look who we have here! Mush! Get over here! Show everyone what you can do!"
The crowd whistles in appreciation as various clanking noises reach my ears.
"Alright, Mush. Let's showcase just how much strength you can pack into that frame of yours. Pick this arrogant prick up, and hurl him out of the party for good! Set a high score!" Skidmark jeers, the crowd surging to support the idea a moment later.
A few seconds later, I find myself getting picked up by Mush - who seems to have bolstered her original frame to stand a bit taller than before. "I'm really, really sorry about all of this." She whispers frantically as she draws me close to her 'core' where her body was hiding. "I didn't think- well. I misunderstood the situation a bit. I didn't think he would flip out on you like that. It's- I'm sorry. I want to do something but- there's nothing to do. There's nothing else. Nowhere else."
"Don't worry about it." I grunt out, keeping my voice low. "I'll be fine, the thought is appreciated, though."
"Please don't be so understanding about it. It's my fault. It's okay to be mad, you're only making me feel worse about all of this." She continues sounding close to tears. "I'm going to give you some cushioning, and try and aim for the dumps over the fence, and- and I'll call an ambulance as soon as I can. Well, it might take a while. I think Skidmark is going to be yelling at me for a while next, but- good luck."
I grunt out an affirmation. Could she actually launch me over that distance? I knew she had raw power, but I'd never seen her try and throw something before, even in-challenge.
I have to hold that thought, because Mush clearly thinks that she can. She pulls her closed fist back with me inside, settles into a textbook throwing position - and hurtles me forward with blistering speed. A few trash bags cling to me as she completes the motion, turning me into a floating ball of trash soaring over the whooping crowd, the fence line and narrowly avoiding the edge of a rooftop.
I whistle at the sheer height that she'd achieved. That was actually impressive, done to a teenager with some extra baggage. She hadn't even been all that large at the time. If my version of the power had that kind of potency, I could catapult myself up and over Skidmark's barriers with ease. Would one more challenge be enough for that? Did it scale with size, or was it more to do with leverage and momentum? The potency of the tentacles running it all?
Whatever it was. Impressive throw. Ten out of ten.
But even if she seemed to be optimistic about the chances of a regular person person surviving this landing, I'd died enough times to know that you never really want to take a risk from heights like this. Her promised accuracy was good, but I'd taken enough silly risks today - I shift into my shadow state instead of trying to find out how comfy the various trash bags and dumpsters below me really would be.
I flex my limbs. Not too bad. Not that any passers-by would agree with my crippled state and bloodied appearance. But I could heal. Slowly. And my standards for 'bad injuries' had been warped heavily over the last few months. This? This was nothing. It could have been a lot worse without my forcefield tanking the hit as I went through the wall. I jump to my feet, staggering slightly as my legs protest. Right. Not entirely perfect. My legs probably looked like a giant bruise right now, even ignoring the bullet wound in one, but that would heal along with my arm as I cycled through shadow state charges.
I drag my weak leg along, making my way to the edge of the dump, closer to the fence line that I'd been hurled over - peering through a misplaced slat at the crowd beyond. It was hard to see now that I was at ground level - but Skidmark seemed to be hyping up the crowd, never one to waste an opportunity to look good and in control. Mush's expression was obviously unreadable, the frame she was occupying not even having any body language to try and decipher. Squealer is already pacing back to her lab- nope. Skidmark pulls her back to his side without even looking, grabbing a handful of her ass in the process.
I glower at that. That still grated. For all the obnoxious things Skidmark had said and done while gloating and yelling, the fact that he was playing around with one of my girls - or, rather, one of the soon-to-be-mine girls - was the most offensive of them. The idea was uniquely repugnant. Like, there were already existing relationships out there that I'd inevitably be breaking up. New Wave might have a two loving husband-and-wife pairs now, but I was never going to let that stop me from turning them all into my sluts. Glory Girl might technically be dating... who was that guy again? Dean... Stanton, Stanfield, whatever it was. That guy. But I didn't really hold any hate in my heart about that fact. Sure, I was going to cuck the guy - but I didn't really feel like he had done anything wrong. It wasn't personal, I was just making my harem.
Skidmark was different. Maybe it was because he'd made his brand around being the lowest of the low, the sleaziest of the sleazy. Maybe it was just a combo with the contempt I already felt for him and his gang. Maybe it was a white-knight part of myself that could pretty easily see that the relationship just wasn't all that healthy in the first place, and that I'd be an easy upgrade for a partner while bagging myself a cute mechanic in the process. Whatever it was... I hated to see it.
The challenge box almost seems to pulse in the corner of my vision. Do something about it then. The echo of my earlier thoughts repeats itself.
I will.
The sound of approaching voices tears me from my murderous thoughts. I retreat further into the shadows, keeping one of my shadow state charges ready while cycling through the others to help stop myself from bleeding.
"-mewhere around here, right?" One voice calls out.
"Should be. Unless he landed on the roof." Another voice murmurs.
The response comes back. "Hope not. I'm not climbing up there to check."
Two people then. "You gonna tell Skidmark that? He seemed pretty pissed to me."
"He always looks pissed." The two split up, flashlights lighting up to search the dark corners of the dumpsite.
"Yeah, and imagine how much you'll improve his mood by saying you couldn't be bothered to find the guy." A pause. "Hey, found it. Looks like he landed here."
"Oh?" They pad closer. "Ah. Yeah, that seems like it. Poor guy. Don't even know if we need to do anything, if he's bleeding out like that already."
"Did you see the way he hit the wall as he came out? Straight in the head. Surprised he even had a face left after that. Looks like he's made of tough stuff, if he can still move around after all of that."
I glance towards the area revealed by the flashlight as they pace in my direction. A blood trail. I hadn't noticed. Well, I'd noticed the signs of blood loss - I just hadn't felt that it was severe enough to warrant any special attention. I had assumed Skidmark was done with me after making an example of how he ran things to everyone, but I would wager a guess that these two were here to make sure there were no loose ends. No thoughts of vengeance, or perhaps just a mercy kill, in other circumstances - just, not done in front of everyone else. Out of sight, out of mind for the people trying to enjoy the party. All the benefits of appearing tough-but-merciful to the crowd, none of the negatives from actually letting someone go.
I can see the idea, even it's stupid. A needless risk. But he wasn't expecting that I was secretly a Cape with defensive powers. He didn't have the experience of minor mistakes resulting in maiming and death, like I had. Compared to him, I was the experienced one here. He'd never been tempered by real failure before - a lucky streak, long enough that he'd never died a single time. And the result was arrogance. Hell, I could have had a weapon that entire time - and there would have been nothing he could have done to stop me from using it. The fact that such a thought hadn't occurred to him, that he'd felt safe in assuming that the rules had been followed...
Well. It must be nice to be so privileged.
The only question was what I should do about the two people slowly working their way towards me. I use my shadow state to retreat again, trying my best not to make noise or kick any debris on the ground. I was fortunate that we were well into the evening now. If the sun was still up, they would have spotted me the moment they entered this area. As it was, I didn't really have a good avenue out of here without blindly phasing through the fence into the brightly-lit area beyond or hoping that the building behind me didn't have a cable running through the walls. Both could be lethal choices.
Should I kill them? It would be easy. The only downside was the proximity to the party if we made too much noise, but the music was back in full swing - and nobody would notice a few more screams amidst the chorus at this point. My ash clone swirls to life next to me as I reach for Vista, ready to close the distance the moment they look the wrong direction.
They were here to kill me, after all. This situation was all too familiar. Two combatants. Armed. One with a gun ready. The other with a knife out, a gun holstered at their back. Easy. I managed harder than that every single day. I could even do it without powers if I wasn't already injured.
I dismiss the clone again. Right. This is real life. There were consequences to killing people here. My DNA would be all over them if I fought them normally, I'd have to do something with their corpses.
Not worth it. I activate Mush's power, a lone tendril snaking off into the dark to attract trash towards it - causing a ruckus that immediately attracts my pursuers. I dismiss the power again. That easy. The moment more charges of my shadow state come back, I soundlessly bound through the area and slip past them - landing back on the road they just came from. I wasn't bleeding anymore. They'd be confused, but just conclude that they'd been too late to find me before I escaped.
I steadfastly ignore the fact that not a single argument about morality even registered in my head during all of that. I'd never killed anyone 'for real' before. Considering how I justified my first few kills 'in challenge', that fact should be something to cling to - but it just didn't have the same weight to it anymore. Pretending that I was some particularly moral, upstanding citizen was something that I did to other people. There was no sense in trying to rationalise things to myself. Killing them would have been easy. I don't think I would have felt a thing about it. The only thing that saved them was the timing and inconvenience of it.
And, even then - would it really have been that difficult to hide? The blood trail was circumstantial, there would be no evidence that we ever met if I didn't exchange blows with them. My ash clone with Mush's power could easily have drowned both of them under a wave of trash and killed them like that without me raising a finger. Two more bodies, would that really be noticeable in this shithole city with one of the highest homicide rates in the entire US? It was a rounding error. There were probably more people dead from an overdose just across the fence than there would have been here.
I suppress the thought. This was better. There were no real advantages to fighting and killing them over just leaving. Not aside from the usual rush of power and the thrill of turning the tables on people so desperate to kill me. And that was a stupid reason. I cycle through my shadow states again. Need to get my mind off of this. Need to get back to the place where I had stashed my costume and phone, and then skip to the part where we blow the Merchants wide open.
It takes a few minutes longer than it should, mostly on account of the limp enforced by my bad leg. Skidmark had done a number on it when he shot me, and bone always took the longest time to heal. I'd have to delay more than I'd like, just to make sure I was at the top of my game when the others arrived. If I didn't have Vista's powerset and my speed state to make climbing easy, I might not have even been able to make it onto the rooftop for a while.
XxVoidCowboyxX: Merchants having their party here.
XxVoidCowboyxX shared a location!
XxVoidCowboyxX: Drugs. Weapons. All three Capes. Worth taking a shot at it, should be here all night. Meet up in an hour?
Arachne: That's a long way for me.
Arachne: I might be a bit late.
XxVoidCowboyxX: Meetup in two hours then?
Arachne: Definitely! I'll be there.
Shadow Stalker doesn't reply instantly, but I doubted she would pass the opportunity up. She'd already sounded interested at the idea.
Two hours was longer than I needed. I could kick back, relax. Maybe find someone to mess around with while I waited. Troll PHO for a bit?
"Mask? Idiot." I jump, whirling around to find Shadow Stalker behind me - arms crossed, and probably wearing her textbook scowl behind her mask. "Why are you running around on a rooftop as if you aren't one functional security camera away from having your identity blown? I know this area is run down, but the lack of common sense is bad - even by your standards."
"I'm-" I touch my face. Right. Half the disguise was built around not using the shadow state at all, all of the little marks and distinguishing features had healed up or faded away by this point. "Believe it or not, I had a pretty cool disguise until a few minutes ago. Really scarred my face up to look like I had acne everywhere, some knife wounds, different hairstyle-" I take in her disbelieving body language. "-I appreciate that you might have your doubts, but it was a pretty good disguise. You'll have to trust me on this."
"And that 'pretty good' disguise just happened to get you catapulted out of a Merchant gathering like yesterday's trash?" She probes.
"That wasn't the disguise's fault, Skidmark is just an insecure little bitch looking to lash out at whoever crosses his gaze first. I was wandering around fine - more than fine - actually." I pause. "And, wait, you saw that? Why are you even here? How did you even know to be here? Have you been holding out pre-cog powers on me?"
"The PRT knew this party was happening before Skidmark did." Sophia smirks. "We've had the area lit up on our console for days, saying we should avoid the area due to 'increased gang activity'. When you said you were looking into the Merchants and looking to raid them, it was pretty obvious where the most likely spot would be. Figured I'd stroll on over, check things out with a patrol around the area beforehand - just happened to catch the commotion right at the end there. Didn't realise it was you, of course. By the time I got to the spot you landed, I figured I was about to watch an execution - right up until the little shrimp those goons were chasing zips halfway across the dump site with my own power." She stifles a bark of laughter. "Shame, if I'd realised it was you I'd have taken a video of your new flight power."
"Fuck off." I flip her off. "And you didn't think to help? Pretty sure those guys were sent to kill me. Where's your heroic spirit?"
"I would have helped, if you'd needed it." She shrugs. "I mean, unless you just laid down to die or something - that would be your choice. But if you'd stood your ground - I'd have been right there beside you."
I arch an eyebrow at her. "So you'd have let me, an innocent guy, die a pointless death because after being crippled I didn't pick a fight with two guards that are armed to the teeth?"
She considers that for a moment, then nods simply - clearly not seeing the big deal. "Sure? It's not like you're a bystander or anything - they're trying to kill you, you've got nothing to lose and everything to gain. Why should I risk my life if you aren't even willing to risk yours? I'm not immune to bullets." She might be, actually. Guess PRT power testing isn't quite as involved as my challenges are. To be fair, testing automatic power activation against lethal projectiles would probably raise concerns with the Youth Guard - hard to blame them.
Still. The point doesn't hold any water at all with me. She can't pretend that she'd have any issue taking out two nobodies in an ambush. "Bitch."
"Cry about it. Just saying I would have helped if you had any balls." She shrugs. "Turns out that you're the type to pussy out of a fight like that, even with powers."
If only she knew. "You do remember that we're going to jump them later, right? Did you want me to tip them off that there's a Cape knocking at their gate? They'd be gone in a blink before Arachne ever has a chance to get here."
"We don't need her anyway." Sophia dismisses. "The Merchants are a total joke."
I stare at her in disbelief. "Yes, we do. There's a few hundred people in that compound. A few dozen guards, with guns - and then also all three Capes. Unless you've been holding out on me, the two of us are limited to fighting one-on-one. Or, two or three - whatever. Not one vs fifty, with guns involved. Arachne can sort all of that without even going through the gate."
She reluctantly concedes the point. "Fine. I guess someone can deal with the mooks."
I sigh, cycling through my shadow state again. "I can't believe you knew about this place already. And you never told me? I know I talked about how I was looking into it."
"Slipped my mind." She lies insincerely. If it wasn't for the litany of bruises and half-healed wounds killing my sex drive, I would be halfway to having my dick down her throat right now for the attitude she was showing. I settle for an annoyed scowl instead. Pretend that I was capable of putting business first ahead of my dick. "Well, hopefully your little infiltration was worth it. Not sure what you would even want inside there, isn't knowing that they are here enough? What did you even do in there? And why are you using my power so much? Trying to be funny?"
I catch Sophia up with the events of the last few hours.
"Damn. I really never appreciated Skidmark up until this moment. Maybe he's my new favourite Cape." She marvels.
"Don't you start." I scowl. "It's bad enough seeing Squealer fawn over him."
"Right, it is kind of gross even just joking about it." She crosses her arms, unable to keep the amusement from her voice. "It's just, having you as his personal little bitch for half the evening, shooting you in the knee, kicking you in the balls, throwing you through a wall, spitting on your beaten, broken body and then flinging you off into a pile of trash?"
"And then trying to have me killed." I append.
"And that." She allows. "I mean, I've got to kind of respect that. At least, more than I can respect the fact that you're here right now and never went back after him. You're just going to let it slide?"
"I never said that." I glare. "We're going after the entire gang tonight, in case you forgot."
"Yes, and he'll sit pretty in jail for all of about three weeks before someone lets him out - the Merchants will go into hiding for a while and you'll just have to accept the fact that he got one over on you and you couldn't do anything about it." She's going somewhere with this. "You'll fit right in with the Wards. You should really consider joining."
I let out a bark of laughter. "We both know you don't mean that. What's your point?"
"Point? I'm just saying I'd never let that happen to me, whether he realised I was Shadow Stalker or not." She leans out over the rooftop ledge for a moment, peering at the street below. "If you were serious about getting back on the guy, you'd be taking this a bit more seriously. Look me in the eyes and tell me that when Void Cowboy goes in there, he's going to repay even a fraction of what he did to you. You punch him in the face a few times, whatever - you won't go too far. You've got a reputation. You don't want to look bad when the PRT comes to snag him."
"Yeah, I don't want myself getting press-ganged into the Wards for being a menace on the streets. Big surprise." I eye her, noting the very real-looking crossbow bolt being twirled between her fingers. "I'm not killing the guy. We both know the PRT would put more effort into catching me than capitalising on any weakness or turmoil that would cause among the gangs. And it probably wouldn't do anything anyway - the Merchants without Skidmark... they'd just be a bunch of disparate drug dealers again. No meaningful change, just one less Cape that was barely relevant anyway. This isn't about him, it's about me - us - and what we're doing for the city."
"That's fine. Just say you're gonna let him off the hook. Say it with your chest. I want to hear it." She goads.
A really, transparent goad, but one that lines up all-too-well with my own thoughts. "I never said that."
"Yeah?" She turns to face me fully. "That's what I heard."
I stew silently in my thoughts for a moment. "Void Cowboy isn't going to do anything. He's going to arrive here, in two hours time - and attack the Merchants with Arachne and a sneaky bitch who loves hiding in the shadows. He's going to fight the Capes, try and arrest people and just be a general do-gooder." I cut Sophia off before she can interject. "But that's two hours away. I think, maybe, 'James' might want to get his own back on the guy who gave him so much grief."
"Yeah?" I can practically hear the smile in Sophia's voice.
"No powers. Or, no overt powers. Just enough to get in, cut a few corners where its safe and we won't get caught."
"We?" She blinks.
"Don't tell me you're going to sit out on this, after talking all of that game." I taunt.
"I don't even know what 'this' is. Get to the point." Sophia snips.
"I've got a pretty good idea of how the security works in there right now. The patrols. The blind spots. The layout on the inside. Not a single working camera in the whole thing, if you can believe it - not even Squealer's workshop. We sneak in, we make our way to Skidmark - catch him alone - and maybe we'll give him something to remember 'James' by before that persona is retired for good."
"A few moments ago you were ready to roll over like a bitch and pretend Skidmark never did a thing to you. Hate to say it, but maybe you've gone a little too far in the other direction." Sophia crosses her arms. "You're talking a little crazy right now. You want to just walk in, in a civilian disguise, and try and kick Skidmark in the balls before escaping - all while not using powers? It's impossible, and you're risking your entire identity for basically nothing."
I smile viciously. "I was thinking of something a little more serious, but you're not too far wrong. It's not as poorly thought out as you think though. Those two people that were chasing me, they're probably still running around that little dump site trying to work out what pile I'm hiding in, don't you think? Those were guards. They have a uniform of sorts. They weren't exactly big guys, I'd say we could fit in their clothes without much trouble. We don't need to get our identities checked at the gate, because we can just phase through the wall - at which point, we're two normal guards on patrol. Nobody cares to get close to challenge us, we just follow the usual patrol route around the site - until we phase into the back of the building once we get close enough."
"And then we just fight our way to the gang leader like we're in some shitty B-movie. Perfect. I love it. I'll be right behind you, don't bother checking to see if I'm following - just keep on straight." She drawls.
"I'll do all the phasing first, just to make sure nobody is on the other side. I'm not asking you to risk your identity here, if I'm spotted - it's not a big deal. What does it matter if Void Cowboy gets caught before we do anything wrong?" I wave my hands expressively. "Hell, you don't even need to come at all - I can do it all alone, it's just I figured you'd be interested in some alone time with Skidmark if it all goes well. No, all of that bit - I'm confident in. The next part, some of it is luck. We obviously need him alone - so we just sit in the men's toilets and wait. He's been drinking like a fish all evening, pops in there all the time - to take a piss or throw up, whatever. Sure, maybe he never comes before Arachne arrives - no problem, we just give up on it and leave the same way we came. If he does come..." I mime a punch. "Showtime."
"You're absolutely insane." Sophia repeats. "It's-there are so many things that could go wrong."
"Which bits?" I challenge. "Because I've been on the inside. I thought that security was tight at first glance too, but it's all a facade. The guards are only putting on appearances. There are blind spots everywhere. Those two guards? They had tasks. A patrol route. The fact that they are here running errands for Skidmark meant that there was a gaping hole in a perimeter that was already looking lax earlier in the evening - and only getting more so as the guards sneak in a few treats for themselves when they thought nobody was looking. My initial fear was that Squealer was holing up in some, technological marvel of a lab with a security system that would spot me a mile away - could not be further from the truth. She's sitting there with a few oversized tractors and nothing else."
My eyes align with hers as I continue. "They're weak. Vulnerable. Arrogant, because they feel sure that nobody is going to do anything about it. This isn't a professional gig, where security is going to challenge us the moment we're spotted inside. Everyone is high as a kite, if someone looks like they belong - nobody bothers them. They only pay the slightest bit of attention at the gate and the restricted area between the normal party-goers and the main building. There's nothing to stop us. Nothing, except ourselves."
"And if Skidmark doesn't go down quietly?" Sophia challenges, but there's less heat in her voice now. "One yell and he brings the entire building down on us."
"I think one yell would barely even be noticed given the type of party it is, honestly - but I'm confident we can take him down. It's already a miracle he can stand up straight, his power requires line-of-sight on the target to work. We blind him, bucket over his head... or, even just turn the lights off - it's the two of us against one drunk, high guy that isn't expecting a fight. We can handle him in time." I'm confident in that much. Knocking him out was probably the safest play, but treating him a bit like our capture of Oni Lee would be somewhat fine too.
She waves me off. "Of course we can handle him, I'm saying - IF - we can't, what happens. Some miracle happens, we fuck it up - whatever. What's the plan? I'm not committing to anything if you're just hoping all goes well."
"Then we pull the stops on our powers and leave." I shrug. "It's not a big deal. I go on PHO to get the first word out, bragging about how I infiltrated the Merchants and got in spitting distance of Skidmark - talk all the shit in the world about how trash the party was and how lax I found the security. You can keep yourself hidden for the action, I'll just say that my 'companion' was just my ash clone keeping appearances up. It can use the shadow state as well, so its a great alibi. There's no good resource online about what my powers can or can't do, and it's well known that I've got something similar to your powers at this point."
She stays silent for a moment. "If we do this- if we do this-" She stresses. "-I'm hanging back. This is your thing. I'm not getting caught, not for anything. If you fuck it up, I'll call the PRT for you and nothing more - I'm not going to juvie because you lost the plot."
"That's fine. This is an invitation for you to enjoy the spoils with me, I don't need you for the execution." I smile nastily. "Because you're right. I do need to get back on him, in more ways than you realise - and maybe there's a few things that Void Cowboy can't get away with, that a scorned Merchant can. We can make a lesson stick here. In my career, in your career - have you ever done anything that the villains will seriously remember? This is a chance for that, and if we do it right, it never even traces back to you or I. I mean, if we humiliate him badly enough... he won't even want to tell anyone what happened if he can help it."
"Why am I even listening to you..." She groans. "It's so stupid. I know that. It's just- it's also kind of appealing. If we pull it off- it's got to be something serious, all right? Like, if you try and give him a noogie and call it a day - I'm breaking both his arms before we leave." She holds her head in her hands for a moment, looking up at the sky. "I'm not committing to anything, but- but we should go and beat up those two guys first. We can decide the rest later, talk about the finer details - take things slow. But if those guys get away, the whole plan is a bust."
I grin. Got her. "Right. We can refine a few details after we've settled into our new disguises. Can't let our two little hunters get away, we've already spent too much time talking - they'll probably be thinking of giving up soon, if they haven't already."
Sophia lopes after me as I lead the way across the rooftops. My gaze sharpens as my two pursuers from earlier come into view further down the street. They don't have a reason to look up here on the rooftops, even if they could make me out - but I could see them just fine. They were clearly stalling, not even pretending to search at this point - just loitering at the side of the street, killing time.
I descend on one of them from above like an angry god. Sophia has the other in a chokehold before he can even turn around to investigate the noise.
Six minutes later, I give a considering look to Sophia. And it was Sophia now. The Shadow Stalker costume was tucked away in a hidey-hole, and the scowling visage of a Merchant gangbanger stood in its place.
"What's with all of-" I gesture at the extra accessories and mess of hair trailing down her face. "-that?"
"I need them to not see my face, obviously." She snarks.
"Wasn't planning on letting that happen anyway. You look ridiculous." I inform her.
"Stuff it. Your plan is ridiculous, I don't want to hear shit about how adding one sensible bit of precaution to it is suddenly a problem." She snips at me.
I check on my ash clone, seems like its done dragging and securing the two naked Merchants over to a distant street. They'd probably get noticed and called in pretty quickly, but nothing they eventually said to the cops would have any real meaning - if they said anything at all.
"Glad you've made up your mind, at least." I grin at her.
She shifts uncomfortably. "Just focus on your plan. I'm not bailing you out if you fuck it up. You talked a big game up to this point - don't think I'll forget that if you botch this up. I know you've done some good work before, but this is- this is a bit different."
I shift my leg in and out of shadow state. A bit sore. But, for the most part, usable. I hold the guard's knife up to eye-level. Intended to slit my throat at the end of it all. The sensation of wetness trickling down my neck, still there no matter how much I wiped it clean. The constant contempt in every request that I handled for him throughout the evening. The phantom pain in my balls, even after this many shadow-states.
The memory of Squealer, giggling as he pulls her close - a coupling that was offensive merely for the fact that it existed.
The sickly feeling of uncertainty, a flash of fear that I'd overstepped into a situation that I couldn't get out of.
"This is different." I acknowledge with a serene smile, tucking the knife into its holster.
"This is personal."