Prologue (Final Scene)

--- Joshua ---

“Let’s see… Temperature is a bit low, but not outside of common subject ranges. Heart rate is slightly higher than before the treatment, though the subject's heart may still be calming from the initial malice spike. Respiratory rate has dropped a couple of points, but blood pressure is notably higher. Whether due to increased heart rate or an effect of the treatment is to be determined after future measurements.”

“What… what does all of… that mean?” He asked, his mouth feeling like cotton as the fog began to clear from his mind.

“Ah, subject is awake. Tell me how are you feeling?” The man responsible for this mess asked.

“Worse than… that time I accidentally drank… all of the spiked kool-aid at… my brother’s christmas party.” He got out, having to stop whenever a knife of pain stabbed through his throbbing skull. (Really shouldn’t have sat up just yet…)

“I did warn you of a bad hangover.” The man reminded him, before handing him a bottle of colored liquid and food bar of some kind. “Eat and drink. You need to rehydrate and stock up on whatever nutrients your body just burned through.”

“Right…” He sighed accepting the bottle and the bar. “Any idea what my body spent those nutrients on?”

The man seemed to think about it for a minute. “You should’ve had some kind of dream while you were out, remember any of it?”

“Depends, was the vomiting a hallucination?” He asked before sipping at the drink and nearly chugging it when he tasted its sweetness.

“No, and I did take samples of it.” The man admitted adjusting his glasses, as he held up a vial of some black substance. “You’re not the first to expel esoteric fluids during their treatment, but whatever you’ve spat out is of a different consistency than the black waters I’m more familiar with.”

“Black waters?” He repeated, his eyes sticking to the vial even as the man set the vial back down.

“A substance common to the Abyssal Seas, one of the… less pleasant locations our world is connected to.” The man explained. “Given how it can occur in a few other Malice saturated locations, it’s not uncommon for some of our subjects to produce it in certain quantities.”

“And you’re saying whatever I spat out is… different?” He checked, not sure how to feel about his body producing something from another world or the fact that he drank something that would make him produce it.

“The consistency is notably thicker, but I won’t know for sure until I run some tests.” The man admitted with a shrug. “For all intents and purposes it could be the difference between freshwater and saltwater… or saltwater from the dead sea at least.”

(Well isn’t that ominous…) He thought, devouring the food bar in just a few bites, not caring for it’s overly bland taste.

Washing it down with the last of the drink they’d given him, he let his eyes wander between the man who’d given him the vial and his bodyguard. “So… what now?”

“Now we see if we figure out if you’ve unlocked any powers from this little experiment.” The man told him, once more taking a seat at the table.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” He asked, forcing himself to stand even as he felt like he was forgetting something somewhere.

“Several ways. Normally I’d recommend the more… aggressive approach given how Malice reacts to stress hormones and adrenaline, but at the same time without knowing what your power is, this could hinder you more than it helps given how you wouldn’t know what to do in the first place.” The man explained, twirling a pen between his fingers.

(Okay, so fighting will make my powers grow faster, but only when I actually use said powers.) He nodded, catching the underlying lesson whether the man meant to give it or not. “In that case, what would you recommend?”

“The easiest solution would be to take another vial of Malice, this would increase the amount of power you’re working with at the moment, while also increasing your base by a minute amount.” The man informed him, reaching into the suitcase and pulling out a vial similar to the one he’d consumed just before vomiting and blacking out.

“I’d rather not.” He grimaced.

“Oh, this wouldn’t work for you at the moment anyways. If you take too much Malice in a single day you can overdose, which could give you a major power up, but is honestly far more likely to make your heart explode inside your chest, well that or mass organ failure. Then again, maybe you’ll be one of those rare people whose brain ruptures at every major synapse cluster.” The man told him casually, as if he wasn’t listing all of the horrific ways the drug they gave him could kill him. “We always get a fair bit of data from that last lot.”

“Be very careful when handling the super drug. Understood.” He nodded, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

“You should be, it’s expensive.” The man agreed, before sticking out a hand. “Now then, let me see your hands.”

“My hands?” He repeated, looking at his own. “Why?”

The man rolled his eyes. “The hands are one of the most dexterous parts of the human body, due to this when human Deviations develop abilities they’ll frequently be tied to the hands before anything else.”

“Huh… makes sense.” He admitted, offering his hands.

“Other major control points include the eyes, feet, and mouth.” The man continued, while inspecting his hands. “Though with the mouth, that’s the entire system including the tongue, throat, and vocal chords. Which is why several Arcane have to say their ‘spells’” The man laughed. “while casting, or manipulating their Anima.”

“Anima?” He asked unfamiliar with the term since he hadn’t bothered learning a lot about Arcane beyond which ones were big time heroes and villains. (Really should’ve better scouted the competition.)

He grimaced as his headache spiked again for some reason.

“Irrelevant to you.” The man answered, cutting off that line of questioning as he laced the fingers of one hand between Joshua’s. “Your nails are darker than before, it’s slight but noticeable, a possible side effect of the black substance you expelled. You could have a certain amount of it still flowing through your veins.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Uh, are you going to need a blood sample?” He asked, feeling a little weird by the way the man was eyeing his fingers.

“I already took some.” The man assured him, while grabbing his wrist before with a flex breaking all of the fingers in Joshua’s left hand.

“Fuck!” He screamed, tearing his hand out of the mad man’s hand. “What the fuck man?!”

“Look at your hand.” The (bastard!) told him calmly.

With a grimace he did just that as he inspected the damage to his hand, before watching with a sick sort of fascination as his fingers began to slowly right themselves with a dull cracking sound. “The fuck…”

“Healing factors are also the most common power amongst malice users, rivaled only by physical enhancements in some subjects.” The man explained clinically. “The shot of adrenaline from the sudden pain, as well as the presence of said pain should be enough to reflexively trigger any powers, regardless of their actual control point.”

“Right…” He chuckled in bitter amusement. “The hand thing was just to distract me so I’d hand it over.”

“It was also to inform you which parts of yourself you should be paying attention to if you wish to find the rest of your powers.” The man told him, uncaring for any discomfort on his part.

(Then again…) He took another look at his hand as his fingers continued to right themselves. (He did deliver on his end of the deal.)

And if a little pain was all it took to get powers, well then, (I’d pay ten times this much.) (As long as it means being a star.)

He grimaced as another knife of pain stabbed through his skull.

“Ah, there’s something.” The man commented, drawing his attention back to his hand where a faint black liquid was beginning to pour from beneath his nails. “It seems this liquid, whatever it may be, is going to be a key part of your powers. Now the question is what exactly does this substance do?”

“No idea…” He admitted, feeling the black substance pooling in the palm of his hand. “How… how do you guys usually test this kind of thing?”

“Mm, try touching something with it.” The man answered after a brief moment of thought. “If this is anything like the black waters its effect will be most prominent when you press it against a surface of some kind.”

(Press it against something, eh?)

He rubbed his fingers against the substance spreading it out across his palm and fingers before pressing it against the table and leaving a black handprint on the surface. After a moment the palm print seemed to bubble before fading until it was just a faint shadow of itself.

“Hm, the evaporation effect is common enough amongst Malice effects.” The man informed him while staring at the table in thought. “It’s something you should be able to improve with a bit of practice, but this particular effect… hmm.”

“I don’t know… was kind of hoping for something a bit more impressive.” He confessed with a sigh. “But at the very least maybe the residue can tell you something the liquid form can’t.” He was pretty sure that was a science thing people did with some liquids.

“Residue?” The man repeated, before giving him a look. “What residue?”

“You know the faint little handprint you can see right there on the table top.” He explained waving a hand towards it.

“You mean the handprint you can see.” The man argued, before returning his gaze to the tabletop. “Interesting… Tell me do you feel a connection to the handprint?”

“I… Now that you mention it yeah.” It was faint but there was this slight feeling in the back of his head. Almost like he knew he’d forgotten about something but didn’t know what it was, and when he tried to focus on it his attention was drawn back to the table.

“Anything else?” The man asked, having pulled out a notepad and jotting things down.

“It feels like there’s multiple… threads?” He frowned, noticing two other things he was ‘forgetting’. “Give me a sec.”

Doing the obvious thing he tugged on one of the other threads and found his attention drawn towards the bottle he’d been drinking from a few minutes prior. Picking it up and inspecting it he found another palm print, which led him to picking up the food wrapper and finding a third even without focusing on his connection.

“Huh, so… I can tag things and keep track of them?” He figured.

“Mm, a tactician’s or overwatcher’s power depending on how you use it.” The man told him, putting his notepad away. “It probably has other aspects to it, and while it might not be the most impressive ability at first glance, it could have potential if you develop it a bit.”

“Develop it how? I mean I can’t exactly go picking fights while leaving my handprints everywhere.” He snarked, waving his hand around even as it dripped a little more of the black substance.

“You could.” The man disagreed, before pulling a set of vials from the suitcase. “Though given how it’s your only ability I’d recommend taking a few of these over the next week or so.”

“I thought you said that stuff could kill me?” He grimaced, eyeing the small case carrying five vials in it, and having space for three more.

“Which is why I’d recommend only taking one a day, while taking no more than three if you decide to push that first number.” The man told him. “As long as you stay within those constraints you shouldn’t be capable of overdosing, given the modifications the first treatment gave you.”

“Are you sure you should be giving me these?” He asked, hoping he could avoid the vials if he made them think he couldn’t be trusted with them. “I mean isn’t this evidence of what you guys are doing here? I mean this whole operation doesn’t exactly scream ‘legal’.”

“Simple.” The man shrugged. “Did I or did I not deliver on my end of things?”

“You did.” He nodded, still feeling a little giddy at the fact that he (finally) had powers like his brother, (even if they’re a bit different.) (Just means I have individuality.)

“So as long as I continue to deliver do you have any reason to turn on me?”

“No.” He admitted begrudgingly as he took the vials that nearly (and still could) kill him.

“Look on the bright side, now that your body has adjusted to the Malice future doses will no longer knock you unconscious.” The man assured him, getting out of his chair.

“And… If I run out of doses… how do I get more?” He asked watching the guard packing up the suitcase full of malice.

“We’ll meet again in about a week or so.” The man informed him. “And depending on how your powers have progressed by that point, we’ll go from there.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to find you guys in a week? Do I just come back to this warehouse, or what?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” The man told him with a pat of his shoulder. “We’ll find you, when we want you.”

(That really doesn’t reassure me…) He thought, staring at the case he was essentially selling his soul for.

---

Stepping into the Saint’s Crossing, he couldn’t help but grimace at how rowdy his brother’s customers were being. Something that did absolutely nothing for the migraine ripping through his skull once more.

“Hey Josh, you doing okay?” Maddie, the bar’s main waitress, asked him. “You’re out a bit later than usual.”

“I’m fine, just a headache and there was this whole mask duel on the way here and…” He trailed off, letting her fill in the blanks of his lie.

“That’s rough.” Maddie grimaced on his behalf. “Your brothers out at the moment, but-”

“Just tell him I went to bed early.” He told her, not really feeling up to lying to his brother after the few ups and many downs of the day he’s had.

“If you’re sure.” Maddie nodded with a touch of concern.

“I am.” He waved her off before making his way into the back where a set of stairs led up to the apartment he and his brother lived in.

From there it was just a single door between him and his bedroom where he tucked the case of vials between his bet and his nightstand before laying down and thinking about everything that had happened today.

“This is it.” He told himself. “The day I’ve been waiting years for, heh…”

Now that it was here he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, what he did know though was that today, (today was just the opening act.)