I carried the red case under my arm, out into the lobby. Absolutely zero chance I was taking out any of the mystery cartridges while still in the house. The longer I could go without so much as scuffing a wall while staying here, the better. I was neither a tidy nor cautious person at the best of times, but the super deserved the courtesy at this point.

Although I hadn’t heard her leave, the house was now silent. I paused by the front door and looked up the stairs. The ajar bathroom door now had a sign hanging from the handle to indicate whether it was occupied or not, depending on which side you turned it. A lock might have sufficed, although I wondered if the strength super might accidentally force it off, forgetting it was there.

I’d save the bath for later. It needed to be earned.

Exited her house and circled around the back. A few dozen steps outside of her property boundary was my old shooting range - although that was a generous term for what was a gathering of rusting and dented panels of metal dug into the ground. I had gotten acquainted with my arm rather quickly, so it never saw that much use other than a couple of times where I needed to blow off steam or try out a new ammunition type.

Such was today’s occasion.

I placed the case on the nearest stable barrel and worked out my shoulders.

//W: About to try out your gifts.

//Clara: Enjoy. Pick two favorites.

//Clara: There would have been another type, but I had no time.

//Clara: Working overtime to get that for you tomorrow, Mr Dubs.

//W: There’s no need, Clara.

//Clara: You’ll take your upgrades and like it.

//Clara: No arguments or questioning my methods.

//W: Understood.

I would not want to be an enemy of the technician. Her dedication and passion for making me into a better version of myself was another hint that they weren’t exactly dancing to the tune of the League. This wasn’t all some ruse to take control of me… even though that would be easy for them to do.

My hand thumbed at the first shell as my chamber opened up. She had written ‘Pincushion’ along the side. A quick peek at the open end told me all I needed to know. A dense bundle of inch-and-a-half long pointed pins filled the inside.

I reiterated the fact that I would not want to be an enemy of Clara. That said, it looked like my enemies would fare no better with her behind me. I would worry about the number of laws this kind of thing would be breaking, but I had enough blood on my hands to drown me by now. Not unlikely that the League would just kill me once their investigation had finished.

Slapped the cartridge in and closed it all up. Passive V-Force hummed at the ready to launch the odd payload.

But I had my own plans for the League. Something Roxy had said made me itchy. If I was sloppy with my double-agent plans, then I’d be a dead man walking for both Boss and the supers. We needed time before we could go off and start our own organization… so I needed job security, of all things.

Roxy was sure to hate me for it, but I had made up my mind.

I was going to push for a full superhero designation.

There were a few boxes I had to tick off first, but Gunquake would… no, I would think about that later. I needed to work with both Clara and Roxy to meet the standards that I required of myself, before even thinking of the League.

Arm went out, and I fired.

Dozens of pins clinked and pinged off the gathered metal parts. A hail of sharp shrapnel that didn’t pierce even the rusty parts of the scenery. Reasonable against soft targets, maybe - but not that damaging. Depending on what material they were made of, they could be useful. For pure general offense, a thumbs down.

Caught the empty shell as it ejected out to place back in the case, and drew the second one forth. ‘Foam’ was scrawled on the side. I turned it to look at the blocked end before giving it a sniff. Yes - just as I thought. The material that the mutants used on Roxy. A temporary restraint in a shell… or some inadvertent suffocation, depending where it hit.

Into the shotgun and then out to a barrel down range. Where it struck, a burst of inflating foam covered about a quarter of the object before it ceased expanding. Enough to pin a limb, which was reasonable for a single shell. Three thumbs out of five.

I didn’t care to question where Clara had sourced some of these payloads.

Next shell was… ‘Bread’?

My brow furrowed as I slowly inserted it into the open chamber. Turned to one of the closer barricades, and fired. Soft white loaf and hardened crust bounced and shredded itself against the metal target. I stood and stared at it blankly for a handful of seconds. Maybe she had a quota to meet.

I didn’t rate that one, just in case she could hear my judgements. Probably best I checked the names on the rest of them, just in case the rest were things she had just nabbed from Roxy’s kitchen in the night.

Napalm. Flesheater. Bloodletter.

Perhaps I had started from the wrong end of the case. Not only were these much worse sounding, but I didn’t think pelting them against rusted metal would really showcase their potentially terrifying abilities.

I looked out to the empty wasteland. Did I have any enemies? None perhaps deserving of these maladies in a shell - not on this pleasant day. The thought of riding off and finding some mutants just seemed cruel.

Hmm. I moved the Napalm in slowly, as if I were still deliberating it. Clara had mentioned she didn’t have time for one more, so that must explain the bread-based projectile. She also wanted me to test them out and pick two - so my choice might be the two she fabricates for me in the future.

For my contracts, anything would do. For the League… I doubted that any of these would pass the subdue-and-arrest test.

My eyes and concentration drifted over to the city. Had to come up with something for Roxy and I to do later. As nice as the movie night had been, I didn’t much care for inhaling entertainment media. Something about the violence and trauma I’d been through made it seem… unpalatable. As I couldn’t eat or drink, that took a lot of options off the table.

I hadn’t recovered enough to duel, and she would have a dim view of fighting anything else. For a moment, I daydreamed about the super taking on a secret identity to help with my contracts, rather than the other way around. Fingers tapped at my side. Amusing, but that actually prompted me to put in a few more orders.

Time to be more proactive. Overt. Undeniable.

A flash emerged from my shotgun as the Napalm fired out, slamming into the middle of my peppered range. Flame burst out and rose higher from a few patches of the ground - as well as the empty container I had hit. More persistent and higher flames than the Incendiary shells I already had.

I lifted the Flesheater cartridge up to look inside. A glass vial that had… things moving inside of it. Deep brown and mottled shades of green. Pretty sure I saw a bunch of segmented legs twitching within. I wasn’t about to fire this off in our backyard. My assumption would be some manner of short-lived carnivorous bugs. If they didn’t die from the impact, they wouldn’t do too well against armored targets. Plus, needing to farm the creatures up was an accident waiting to happen.

Heavy pass.

Hand hovered over the case to return it, before I moved the shell into my bandolier instead.

Last, but by no means least, the Bloodletter shell looked to have a needle to deliver a payload of drugs. Best guess would be something to prevent blood clotting. A neat idea - her heart was clearly in the right place with some of these options… there was just such a small benefit compared to putting something more deadly through an opponent from the outset.

Still, that one found its way onto my bandolier as well. You never knew.

Closed the case and frowned at the flames that were still licking away at the dried ground. Which two were my choices, then?

//W: Foam and Napalm.

//Clara: Noted.

//W: There’s something else I need ask of you.

//W: Large package coming tomorrow.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

//W: Give me a hand? I’ll make it worth your while.

//Clara: I’m all yours.

//W: Also a Public Defender order, if you have time later.

//Clara: You are certainly working me hard, Mr Dubs.

//Clara: Send the details. I’ll get it done.

I packed up the rest of the case and walked back to the front of the houses, over to my shack. There were a lot more things I could ask Clara for, but didn’t want to push my luck. She was already doing a lot. I shouldn’t rush the process. Especially not before getting Roxy’s blessing. Perhaps an odd way to spend our social evening.

The drab interior hit me like a fog of pure malaise. As if my life was being sucked away from me, even standing in the doorway. The super had mentioned I could move things across, but filling her rooms with my crates seemed rude. Plus, with one hand, I might struggle. I left the case on my workbench and just grabbed the stims, nutrition canisters, and shrapnel remover cases - managing to balance them in my grip as I left.

Once she was done with the last of the ice-cream… which should be no time at all, I would steal the freezer for my room and put all my canisters in it. Waking up every morning to that, in the pleasant bedroom, would be bliss.

Tidied around the dining room for a bit, only partially tempted to look into some of the things I wasn’t supposed to. Went and sat on the sofa while I sent Clara my order. She could bring it over when she came to help with Hal’s delivery. Trailer had seemed like a good idea at the time, but my motorbike wasn’t exactly ideal for pulling it. Not with what I had coming, anyway.

My eyes idly went to the coffee table, one of the League-produced magazines laying there. I shuffled forward and flicked it open. Some training was next on my agenda, but a few minutes of rest first wouldn’t kill me.

Middle spread was a group shot of the current five S-Ranks. The most powerful and influential super group in the city. I’d seen their faces on billboards and the like over time, but having been avoidant of that side of life for so long, I never had a need to dig any further than their glossy public-facing marketing images.

Now I had more of a professional interest, in more ways than one.

Angel was recognizable instantly. The all-rounder in a white super suit with gold trim looked every part of her namesake… if not extremely over produced. Picture-perfect public darling. Whoever wrote this article couldn’t help but gush over her purported qualities. Probably on the payroll of her partner.

Second to catch my eye was Bucket. It wasn’t clear if he was part cybernetic, robotic, or just had a full armored suit that gave the effect of one of the former. He was the group’s support hero and had shielding and defensive powers, but used his metal parts for offense.

Not quite fitting enough to be someone to aspire to.

The next odd character was Fast Girl. A tall and slim woman in a bright green suit striped with luminous yellow. Interesting to note was she looked older than the rest of the group by a good decade - despite the blurb beneath her saying she was the most recent member. Speedster, if the name hadn’t given it away.

Taking up most of the background of the shot was RED ROCK. They had even written it in capitals. An overtly large and muscled orc with red skin. Notable quirks seemed to be saying his name louder than necessary and hitting things really hard. I could respect the simplicity of it, at least.

Last was… Silhouette. Not pictured - or rather, they were there, but invisible. No details about gender, ancestry, or abilities. Oh, no. They weren’t exactly invisible, but were unable to be pictured by conventional cameras. Made me think back to my mysterious aura, which didn’t actually exist. Perhaps this super just didn’t show up to the shoot, and that was given as an excuse.

I tried to think back to previously mentioned billboards - had I seen Silhouette before?

Had anyone? Now the imagined conspiracy had me intrigued.

Closed the magazine up and didn’t much care for any of the other articles. Just something to whet my appetite and get my mind excited for potentially killing them one day. Not… that such a thing was likely or a very smart decision, but thinking about how to beat out certain super powers was just part of who I was.

Was a decent enough primer for my training. Out of the house and to the dummies. Spent probably… an hour straight in constant fighting with them. Aching and soaked with sweat after, but it had brought some strength back to my left arm. Clara didn’t think I healed from combat, but the evidence was willing to lead me astray. Practiced with Reflex, which had a good handful of minutes of refractory period. By the end of my training, I felt dry, a headache forming where I had been exerting myself a little too much.

But the prize was a good bubble bath.

Flipped the sign to say it was occupied, ran the taps, and stripped down.

I could get used to living like this.

The warm water and obscuring bubbles soon made the trauma endured against the Five Eyes seem like a bad dream. I hope that the next time I wanted a lump of my prior existence to slop back into my current mindscape that I didn’t need to be brought to the brink of death. Wouldn’t always get lucky and have an ability to pull me out of harm’s way - nor have an enemy keen to take their time to disassemble me.

I raised my gun-arm up to look at it. While a new face was a given, for a few different reasons, I hadn’t decided about replacing my shotgun. A second workable hand did have benefits. Currently, this was the most efficient way of shooting people…

My body sunk into the water further as I had a think. Not that it mattered right now.

I needed money.

There wasn’t an easy way of getting millions of credits, however. Didn’t think I knew anyone who would help me roll over a bank. I could look to see if there were any bounties, but they’d just be in the same ballpark as Boss’s contracts. A few grand for an hour or two of effort was alright, but wasn’t building me to be the superhero I wanted to be.

Nor the superhero killer I needed to be.

While my aches soaked away, thoughts in my head ground around like wasteland dirt. Trying to find out more about myself. Part of a group working to kill those with super powers… but working for who? And how insidious was my role? Assassination seemed reasonable, but I could have been in some manner of protective force - a last resort for taking out uncontrollable supers?

Something in my heart told me it was nothing benevolent.

Then I and my group had either met their match or outlived our usefulness. I was dotting around plot points that seemed to fit, but it could be anything for as much as I knew. Other than cracking my skull open and hoping some truths would work their way out of my head, I needed to find a smarter way of getting answers.

I eventually removed myself from the bath, drying off before getting into a fresh suit. Gave myself a good look over in the mirror. Could I ever be a hero? I could act the part, certainly. Save some innocents and shoot the bad guys - non-lethally, of course. Probably would never look the part, though.

Would I even be allowed to become so publicly overt? Boss might allow it if he thought I’d be weaseling my way further into the League. The super organization itself… would be a tougher sell. They’d already rolled out the red carpet in allowing me to become a sidekick without removing my head. Full-on hero might be a stretch even if they were using me to dig into Boss and my past more.

I knew at least I’d have Roxy and Clara on my side. While the super had expressed some disdain at the thought, she had been supportive of my growth and life change to this point. Made me feel like a fully functioning person rather than a discarded killing tool.

Having to persuade the rest of her group was neither here nor there. I didn’t have to be part of their five, but if all it took were some charms and show of competency, then I pretty much had it in the bag.

Needed some upgrades still, but everything in time.

Left the bathroom and went into my bedroom. It was late afternoon now, most of the day washed away with my activities. Still hadn’t decided what to do with Roxy - maybe just talk? I had a fire burning within me to get more balls in motion to keep the momentum up. Didn’t want to sit still and languish while there was still so much to do.

In saying that, I took myself over and laid on the bed. Still recovering after all, even if the exercise and bath had brought me up to close-enough status. Rather than nap, I cycled through several catalogues on my lense. Spent far too much time distracted by one shop that sold food - considering I couldn’t consume any of it.

It did make my insides crave a freshly chilled canister, however. Closing down the screens to see that it was now near dusk, I pushed myself out of bed and went down to the kitchen.

Fresh one in with a hiss, old one out into the trash can. Today had been a far cry from the hell endured as of late, and I felt… content. Fulfilled, almost. All I needed now was a chill evening with the super. Might even break away more of the shell I was begrudgingly hiding behind.

As if hearing my thoughts, a sound in the distance caught my attention.

I turned my head as I heard a heavy thump from outside. A few seconds of silence passed and then the front door opened, Roxy coming inside.

“What a shitty fucking day,” she said, her face selling the statement well.

[Did you want to talk about it?]

“Not really.” She gave me a glum smile and moved past me. “Not until I’m at least fifty percent ice-cream.” After picking out a spoon, she opened the freezer to make her choice of flavor. “How was your day?”

I held my arms out and rotated in a slow circle.

[Not a scratch on me.]

“Miracles can happen, huh?” She withdrew the vanilla tub. “Listen, I know we were going to hang tonight, but I could really do with some space to vent. Just hit the gym and burn off the stress.”

[I understand, that is completely fine. There are a few things I can busy myself with and keep out of your way.]

“Perfect. Prime sidekick material.” Roxy stabbed the spoon into the frozen stuff and went to move out of the kitchen.

[Actually, there was just one thing though, about that?]

“Oh?” She paused and looked as though she already held a grudge for my preventing her from escaping so soon. “Shoot.”

[About what you said this morning. I would like to become a full hero rather than a sidekick.]

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head.

[But why? There are many advantages that-]

“No, sorry, Dubs. I can’t have this conversation right now.” The super started backing away towards the lobby. “It’s a shitty idea, though.”

[I suppose we will have to disagree on that then.]

“Yeah, we will. I know your dumbass is still thinking of doing it though… and you don’t have my blessing.” She shrugged, partly exasperated, still wanting to move away from this conversation.

[Yet you are fine with me playing sidekick. I am only good for that?]

A scowl dominated her face. “That’s not what I’m saying. Being a hero isn’t just the next step where they’ll kiss your ass and everything is peachy. You’ll have to change your life completely and get an ID and shit, be a real person. You can’t just-”

[Ah, I am not a real person.]

“Dubs.” She deflated, letting out an impatient sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m…”

I held up my hand to stop her.

[It’s fine. Enjoy your evening.]

Walked past her as her mouth opened and closed, still a decent amount of exhausted ire in her eyes. Over to the front door and out into the cool evening air. Door closed behind me, the end of the conversation fully realized. A matter settled.

I took a few steps out into the grass before bringing up my chat window.

Agent W: I need something to kill. Now.