◆Question 7: If you’re a Fiend, what’s your Curse?◆
For an organization centered on Fiends that use their abilities in the service of others, this question was surprisingly far from the top. Ultimately, their power was only one part of who they were. Even if it was something that would be of no benefit to the type of work they did, as long as the person could still be a capable member, it really didn’t matter.
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{No. 152; Chorus Mistrion (The Quick Changer) - Fiend | Shackled Suitcase / Something About Stars IDK / Looking For Passion / Former Actor/Actress | Ahvra's Notes: My Body is Confused / Smile Haunts Me / Don’t Like. Causes Stress}
“Time for a little performance,” Chorus pounced up from the chair. They resummoned their suitcase and gave it a little twirl. There was a puff of smoke, like a magician performing a trick, and the suitcase had turned into a full-sized wardrobe. “I am called The Quick Changer for one simple reason: because I change quickly.” The wardrobe swept at Chorus, swallowing them whole. A moment later, it retreated, and Chorus was left standing there with an entirely new outfit.
They were now wearing a lovely spring dress with a floral print. The wardrobe ate them again, then they were wearing a police uniform with accompanying baton. Once more, now they were in dregs that could barely be considered clothing, like someone who had just crawled out of an unmarked grave.
A few more outfits later, they finally returned to their original and gave a bow. Everyone gave some quick applause for the show they were given. “As you’ve just seen, my Curse allows me to change into any outfit at will. The only caveat is that it must be an outfit I’ve fed into the case. As far as the limit, I lost count a while ago. I just know that it increases the more I practice with it and the stronger I get. Praise Cosmos that makeup is also included with the outfits. Unfortunately, hair styles still have to be done manually.”
“Now I’m sure you’re wondering how this can be a useful application to your organization. So if I could have two volunteers from the audience.” Chorus gestured towards Kada and Xard. They promptly walked out in front of their table. Kada seemed quite excited. Xard was certainly more hesitant, but still willing, especially in the face of one of his idols.
Chorus launched the wardrobe at Kada without warning. She flinched reflexively but then was stunned a second later, checking out the full set of leather armor that now adorned her. “So as you can see, I can prepare useful getups for just about any situation. Of course, that still doesn’t prove its effectiveness in fighting. I can steal outfits from others and let my wardrobe eat them, but that takes a lot of energy. It also seems to be harder to do against those with a strong will.”
“As for another use… I hope you like this. I had this outfit made especially for you after reading up on your Curse, my dear boy,” Chorus winked at Xard who was immediately stunned, borderline charmed. The wardrobe ate him whole and spat him out with an outfit no one suspected.
Xard was now fully wrapped in a straitjacket, similar to those used in medical facilities to restrain unruly or dangerous patients. The material was much stronger though and fitted with dozens more bindings. Xard tried to break free with his raw strength to no avail. He then absorbed his rings to try and blast his way out with energy, but that proved fruitless as well. Instead, the jacket just rippled and the energy puttered out by the gap near his face.
Eventually, he fell over, and rolled around the floor for a while, struggling to break free. Chorus eventually pitied the boy and freed him from his restraint, but not before receiving a special applause from Phon who had thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle of torment.
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{No. 144; (The Beacon) - Fiend | Behold, The Bauble! / Doesn't Impose Beliefs / Get This Woman Her Own Bath / Monster Hunter | Ahvra's Notes: Unsure if Prayer is part of Curse / Religion is Powerful? / Very Religious. Bad sense of age.}
“I purify the evil taint that corrupts this world!” was all the explanation initially given by The Beacon. After a bit more prying, she finally attempted to elaborate a bit more. “I showed it to your little one. I can smite impurities with the holy light of Cosmos. It will remove any corruption while attempting to preserve whatever it can. The Slayer has seen some of my work. For monsters, it will kill many of them outright if they’re more corrupted. The larger ones take a bit more energy, though.”
“And when they’re dead, I can use my Curse to stop the degradation that eats at their flesh. This makes it perfectly edible for humans. I try to donate the remains to any human settlements I come across, but it is a gift many still refuse to accept. I am often left eating it myself.”
“My blessing, sorry, my Curse as you say, is not only limited to monsters. It can remove the residue from anything else deemed an impurity. It can detoxify radiation, although a bit slowly. I tried to take on restoring Pimitrad myself, but I didn’t seem to make a dent after several weeks. The power is best used on specific items to cleanse them individually.”
“For more practical everyday use, it can also remove dirt and grime from clothing and skin. That allows me to travel with only one set of clothes, and… clean myself… when a suitable bath can not be found. While I am thankful that Cosmos allows me to keep myself pure, nothing will beat the feeling of hot water melting the stress and squalor away.”
“I can also imbue items with this blessing, though it only lasts temporarily. Temporary heralds of Cosmos’ will until they impart his design.”
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{No. 65; Jaid Sparka (The Warrior) - Fiend | Carries a Big Sword / Wants To Follow Mother's Dream / Likes Alone Time and Outdoors / Made Drim Annoyed at Us :c / Ex-Merc | Ahvra's Notes: Weird About Her Arms / Capable Despite Appearance / Formerly Injured. Fiend Anomaly}
Jaid stood up and held her hands out to her sides. The first thing of note was her eyes. Her pupils divided, like a cell undergoing mitosis, until there were now 4 pupils in each. The new pupils slid out the side of her eyes before they returned to normal. It was usually something that happened instantaneously, but she went through the extra effort to show it off to the interviewers.
A second later, four clones of herself were standing next to her, two on each side, and all holding hands. “This is my Curse: Army of One.” Two of the clones had taken turns saying that. “I can make as many clones as I can muster the energy for. With only a few like this, they will be as strong as me. If I extend myself too much, though, they get exponentially weaker.”
“I’m sure you can all see the immediate benefits of more copies of yourself, but there are some limitations. I suppose I should correct something first. These aren’t really clones. They are actually extensions of myself, and as such, they can’t disconnect from each other. In some way, we must stay connected. It doesn’t really matter how, as long as we’re touching; from holding hands to barely touching our shoes together.”
The clones vanished, and then Jaid held her hand out, flat. An extremely tiny version of herself appeared on one of her fingertips. “I tried to test what would happen if the connection was forcefully severed. So, I once made a small version like this and ran a thin blade between it and my finger. The copy shriveled out of existence immediately, and I was left with a bleeding gash in my finger. They are me, just in a weirdly stretched out way.”
She then held her hands out again, but explained a bit more before proceeding. “As you just saw, my clones aren’t limited to being exactly like me. I can distort their shape and size. However, doing so has some strange results. If they’re exactly like me, we think with one mind. But the more I change them, the more they change internally too. It’s like they almost gain their own will and personalities.”
Four new clones appeared at her sides. The ones to her immediate left and right were merely slightly shorter and slightly taller versions of herself. They didn’t seem to differ much besides slightly different expressions. However, the two on the ends were almost entirely new beings. One was very small, almost with the body of a child and way too big of a head. The other was closer to a pole than a person, a lanky body that was more than double Jaid’s height.
The small one was bursting with energy and shaking in place, her eyes darting around the room with curiosity. Finally, she focused on the four Fiends at the table and lost herself to temptation. “Let’s play! Let’s Play!” The small girl attempted to run at the table with her free hand waving wildly. She was barely being restrained by the only slightly shorter clone.
Meanwhile, the long lanky clone stared up at the ceiling, her free hand reaching up towards it. “Ahh, the ceiling is so high. Even with my long body, my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. Does anyone have any rope?”
Jaid quickly made the other clones vanish with clear frustration on her face. She took a few deep breaths before resuming her explanation. “Any of my clones can also be created with anything I’m holding or wearing, but they don’t have to if I choose not to include them.” A single clone appeared this time. It wasn’t wearing the flannel jacket that the original had on.
Next, Jaid picked up her sword and made four clones, two with the sword and two without. “While anything I’m wearing or holding won’t hurt me if they’re damaged, the wear and tear will transfer over to the original piece when I recombine.”
For her last explanation, Jaid let out a sigh. “I’ve never actually shown anyone else this facet of my Curse, and it may be stupid of me to show off a trump card, but I believe in complete transparency.”
Another line of Jaids appeared, but this time, the middle Jaid vanished. All that was left was one of the Jaids at the end. The clones then stacked on top of each other, each one standing on another's shoulders. Afterwards, all that was left was Jaid dangling from the ceiling. She let go and dropped down to the floor with a thud. “As I said, they are extensions of myself. They are all me, and I am any one of them. Any of the clones can become the main body and distorted clones will revert to the original me.”
“For combat, it’s extremely useful for dodging, since I can essentially move away at blazing speed. And for a more aggressive use.” Jaid only put her hand on her sword, but that was all that was needed. The others barely saw what happened, only Rusa able to catch it in real time.
In a blink, Jaid had gone from across the room to the table where the Fiends were. Her loosely touched sword was now firmly gripped into her hands, lightly slicing against the table. As Rusa later relayed, Jaid had rapidly made clones of herself, deleting them as the next was made, making it almost seem like super speed or a teleport, and certainly catching the others off guard as they all jumped in their seats.
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{No. 8; Hairionette - Fiend | Is She Okay In The Head? / Agree with Ahvra's Assessment / Wig Maker | Ahvra's Notes: Possibly Likes Hair Too Much / Likes Hair A Lot / Likes Hair}
Hairionette didn’t say a single word during her exhibition, letting her actions speak for her. Her hair unraveled from around her body on its own and began waving around. It then flowed into several different forms: decorative wings, a giant hat, a full suit, a giant Fiends For Hire logo, and a few more.
After the cosmetic showcase was done, the hair pushed against the floor, lifting her up with its surprising strength. The hair began to walk around the room, then half of it stretched upwards. It grabbed the ceiling and pulled her up as she remained motionless and content. After it let go, the hair began juking around the floor with some of it coming in front of her, mimicking a boxer’s fists ready for a fight.
Once Hairionette had won the imaginary boxing match, the hair turned into a chair, and set her down gently onto it. Now, Hairionette actually put in her own physical effort for a change. She held out her hands like a pianist preparing for a recital, but instead of playing keys, she wiggled her hands back and forth more like a puppeteer.
The hair on top of each of the four Fiend’s heads began to dance. The strands on each all twisted and swirled, turning into different styles entirely. Phon now had pigtails sticking out from below her hat, Drim’s hair was neat and tidy like an overly serious businessman, Kada’s hair had poofed out into a full afro, and Xard’s hair spiked up like a punk-rocker.
After Hairionette had successfully awed the audience and gotten them to lower their guard a bit, she proceeded to show off the more forceful side of her Curse. Drim’s head suddenly whammed down onto the table at full force, cracking the wood slightly and causing some light bleeding.
Before the others could react, they were all being assaulted by their own hair. Xard’s hair lifted him up, pinning him up against the wall as he struggled. Kada’s especially long hair wrapped around her arms, tying them up and restraining them behind her back. Phon’s hair wrapped around her neck and began choking her relentlessly.
Once Drim seemed to recover enough from his surprise head wound, Hairionette released the others. She then twirled her own hair a bit more, spelling out ‘Sorry’ with the strands.
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{No. 89; Roque Personson (The Swindler) - Fiend | Takes A Lot of Stock in Capitalism / Sorry We Ruined Your Dream! / Follows Trends / Sketchy Businesses | Ahvra's Notes: Sold Blood for Cheap. See if you can Buy More / Shifty. Thief?}
“Hoo boy, how should I explain this?” Roque began working through the conundrum. “‘Your stuff becomes my stuff?’ No no, sounds too thievish. ‘Your stuff likes me better than you?’ Nah, that concept is probably too outlandish to start with. Well whatever, I’m overthinking it. If you want to sell something, you just need to show it off.”
“Would one of you mind holding up a pen you don’t mind losing?” After a bit of glancing at the others, Drim held up his pen per Roque’s request. “Alrighty, thank you kind sir. First, I need to free up a slot.” Roque held out his hands and mimed flipping through a stack of invisible papers. His hands grabbed hold of nothing, but then a page appeared briefly.
Before anyone could get a look at the piece of paper, Roque tore it in half. A moment later, darts appeared, floating in the air where the paper had been. “Go on, you can go back to your original master. Sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together, my finely precise friends.” They were easily recognizable to the others as the darts Ahvra had been using for her exams, and they vanished from sight, flickering out of existence.
“What you just saw was the end of my Curse. Now for the beginning,” Roque declared. He held out a new blank piece of paper, and the pen suddenly vanished from Drim’s hand. A picture of the pen appeared at the top of the page. Then suddenly, a flurry of words etched onto the page, looking unmistakably like a contract. Finally, Roque’s name appeared at the bottom; a signature written in what should be his diamond colored blood. The paper then disappeared.
“This pen is now mine.” The pen suddenly poofed into Roque’s hand. It vanished again for a second, then popped into his other hand. “No matter what you do, even if you take it from me. It will always be my pen.” Roque chucked the pen back over to Drim. It was an obvious toss so Drim caught it easily, but just as he did, the pen vanished from his hands. Once more, Roque was holding it as if nothing had happened.
“So as you’ve just seen, I can take items from others and make myself the sole owner,” Roque explained. “I can always get them back from others, and I can store them away in some sort of pocket-dimension I guess. As for how I take them… well it’s difficult to explain since there’s a truth to this world most people just don’t know.”
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“Every item has a will; from the clothes on your back, to the wood of this floor. They all have their own feelings, motivations, personalities, and temperaments. However, most items have a pretty weak sense of self from what I can tell. I can’t actually understand them or anything like that, but their emotions get across.”
“For me to claim an item, I must ‘convince’ it to come with me. For most standard items, it’s pretty easy. Since basically no other people recognize their presence, just acknowledging them is enough. However, items that have a long history with their owner become infinitely more difficult to take.”
“As an example: Your combat suit, Randex,” Roque pointed to Xard. “It’s certainly warming up to you, but you haven’t had it for too long, right? It’d take a while, but with enough schmoozing, I could probably get it on my side and take it away from you. Now the Drazah’s weapons on the other hand, the mister’s blades and the miss’ yoyo, I can sense their deep loyalty. No matter what, they could never be mine.”
“Ooo, ooo, what about my anchor?!” Unable to contain her excitement, Kada interrupted Roque’s spiel.
“Hmm,” Roque pondered hard for a moment. “It seems to have mixed feelings about you. Quite the playful personality it seems to have. So it looks like it has a lot of fun with you sometimes, but it also often feels neglected.”
“Aww, my poor baby!” Kada unmelted her anchor from her thermos and hugged it. “I promise I’ll spend more time with you. You’ll be getting a nice long polishing once we’re done with these interviews.”
“It quite liked that. I can get you some special polish that it’ll love for cheap,” Roque’s unceasing salesman side was back at it, and yet Kada somehow seemed to be gleefully interested, caught up in the emotion of it all as the others pitied her.
“Anyways, my power of course comes with all kinds of caveats and conundrums,” Roque started explaining the technicalities. “As you saw, loyalty is a major factor, but there’s a few others. Size is a big one. I can claim bigger items as I train my Curse more. Right now, the limit is about the size of a small house. While that may seem like a lot, it’s certainly too little for my ambitions.”
“Eventually, I’d love to be able to steal something like this entire compound right out from under your feet. Not that I ever could, since it would probably be too loyal to you by then. But the idea of just stealing an entire estate from some jerk who annoys me really gets me going.”
“Also, anything I take is legally mine by right. For whatever reason, the contract I create supersedes anything else in a court of law to the eyes of man. Not that I’m complaining. And I should know, some real sourpusses have tried to sick the authorities on me, but then I sue them right back for slander if I’m in an especially foul mood from the ordeal.”
“Now for how many things I can take… and yes there sadly is a limit. At the moment it’s eight, but I’m close to nine. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do, a kind of gnawing notion if you will. So that’s why I had to regretfully release those darts. It’s a shame, I know a pro-dart player who would have paid a nice price for them. But unfortunately, everything else in those other slots is just too valuable.”
“Woof, this has been a long explanation. You sold on it yet? Well if not, there’s more! As I mentioned in an earlier question. I don’t need to learn how to use things, because anything in my possession will use itself regardless of my own skill with it. Roque slid up the sleeve of his cheap suit and pressed the tip of the pen against it. He slid it swiftly along his skin in one solid sweep.”
While Roque couldn’t have possibly scribed anything in that time or with that motion, the phrase ‘Fresh Arm For Sale’ was written across his arm in perfect penmanship. “Impressive, ain’t it? Now I’m not trying to call you guys cheap, but this certainly isn’t the highest quality of pen. No way it would be able to write like that in an amateur’s hands, but I can bring out the best in anything! Yes, you did good!” Roque gave the pen a few light pats.
“And using their own will, I can also get them to obey commands that should seem physically impossible otherwise.” Roque hurled the pen through the air, like one of the darts he’d disposed of earlier. It was on a collision course with Xard, who had already put up his hand to block it. But it never made it. Just before impact, the pen stopped dead in the air, then flumped down onto the table right in front of him.
Xard picked up the pen, but apparently the demonstration wasn’t over. Every ounce of ink in the pen suddenly squirted out of the tip, and directly onto Xard’s face. Snickers quickly followed suit from the others at the table and Roque nearly keeled over as he roared in laughter. “Oof, what a sucker! I can’t believe you fell for it.”
Roque eventually recomposed himself while Xard cleaned himself up. He then resummoned the pen back to himself. “I’m really sorry for this.” He stared down at the pen with genuine gloom in his eyes. Without mercy, Roque snapped the pen in half before it vanished.
Kada looked at him like he was a monster, and the two boys seemed slightly conflicted. Phon didn’t really have any reaction since it was just a pen. “Calm down, alright,” Roque scolded them. “It’s not dead. It was just fulfilling a purpose.” The pen resummoned into Roque’s hand. It was now back as one piece, though there was still a defining crack where it had snapped.
“Any items that belong to me gradually repair themself over time. And it may be hard to see, but if you look closely, you can see that a bit of ink has refilled. Now, I’m sad to say that a pen isn’t really a good use of my Curse when the slots are limited. But I will make sure that it is fully healed and then sold, no, donated to a good home!”
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{No. 100; Rezin Anish - Fiend | Pure / Made a Friend / Unemployed / Their Life is Sad | Ahvra's Notes: My Head Hurts / Eyes Playing Tricks / Hard to Pin Down}
“Umm, explanations are hard,” Rezin looked immediately dejected before even attempting. He then pointed at his eyes, but no one really understood what he was getting. “Uhh, tricks, I make your eyes play tricks on you. Some people have talked about my power when I’ve bumped into them. They think I have invisibility, but that’s wrong.”
“I can make you see what I want you to see, but only if it’s something you could imagine seeing. If you don’t think someone’s here, and expect to see an empty chair, that’s what you’ll see.” Rezin then seemed to blink out of existence for a moment before reappearing. “Since you’ve seen the empty chair plenty already, it’s easy for me to remove myself from your thoughts. Making myself unseeable isn’t hard at all, since most people glance over me anyways. Cus of my nerves, I do it accidentally a lot.”
“I am now changing the room to your favorite color,” Rezin hesitantly raised his hands in the direction of the Fiends. “I don’t know what your favorite color is, but that doesn’t matter. Your mind will fill in the gap. What do you all see?”
“Purple paint on the walls.”
“Everything’s blue like the ocean, the floor and the ceiling too!”
“There’s swirls of gold on everything around the room, but the actual color stayed the same.”
Everyone then looked at Drim, who seemed hesitant to answer, and was clenching his hand around his eyes as if they were in pain. “There’s no color. Just an empty void. It’s black but more, like the same effect my hair has.”
“Hmm, I highly doubt that’s your favorite color if it’s bothering you,” Rezin seemed confused as he released the mirage. “I guess you just have a strong mental connection with it.”
“Okay, umm, sorry, umm, let’s move on then. Change the pace. I’m now holding something you hate,” Rezin held out his hands flat and a variety of items appeared.
“Ugh, a big plate of Raisins,” Drim was the first to complain.
“Pile of drugs for me,” Xard informed them with dread.
“Yuck, roadkill that Drim would eat,” It was odd to see Phon so perturbed.
“Nooooooooo,” Kada whined. “It’s a big stack of paperwork! Cosdamnit, I hate paperwork.”
“A laptop with no internet connection,” the young Rusa shuddered from the corner.
“Hehe,” A light laugh escaped Rezin’s lips, seeming to enjoy that people were appreciating his talents for once. “Okay umm, now I’m holding hands with someone you miss.”
“Oh, it’s my friend from after I moved out. I should call her,” Kada was suddenly nostalgic.
“Hmm, my parents, not sure how I feel about that,” After a few seconds, Xard rested his face between his clasped hands so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore.
“Oh, it’s Drim,” Phon seemed surprised.
“I’m right here!” An annoyed Drim gestured to his own presence.
“No, not you, well young you,” Phon corrected. “Awww, Drim was so cute when we were kids, so pudgy and pinchable.”
“I wanna see!” Kada insisted and glared pleadingly at Rezin.
“Well, I can also link and share other people's perceptions too.” After a few turns of his wrist, almost like he was tuning knobs, a few more ‘Awws’ came from the room. Rezin didn’t share this particular image with Drim himself since he seemed uninterested.
Finally, though, Drim focused on him and began seeing his own missed person. “It’s our uncle,” Drim informed them, but then something was immediately off. He squinted, and rubbed his eyes. “What’s going on? Who is that? A woman I’ve never seen before?”
“Huh? That shouldn’t happen,” Rezin apologized as he was about to end his Curse, but paused when the others started asking questions.
“What does she look like?” Phon asked first.
“Are you sure you’ve never seen her somewhere, in the background or in a dream?” A more logical approach from Xard.
“Is she cute?” Kada was asking the important questions.
“Umm, she’s young, about our age,” While clutching his eyes again, Drim did his best to try and explain. “She looks pretty normal. Brown hair, not a Fiend. I genuinely have no— hURK” Drim clutched his chest out of nowhere, his eyes bulging in pain. Tears started streaming down his face, showing no sign of ceasing. After several moments of heavy breathing, he was finally able to get control of his emotions and calm down.
“Sorry,” a low, sad woman’s voice cut through the silence of the room. “She is someone from my past. No one important.”
Rezin looked around, confused for a moment, before he began his tirade of apologies. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know my Curse could hurt anyone. It just seemed to confuse or annoy people, but why is it causing physical pain?!”
“I don’t think it’s you,” Xard suspected. “Drim here just has something along the lines of multiple personalities living inside of him. I’m guessing that’s what’s causing your Curse to go awry.”
After things settled, Rezin ran through a few more examples of what he could do. He turned a few of the Fiends invisible at a time, made some monsters that could act as decoys, and showed forged documents of whatever the reader would expect to see.
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{No. 121; Niloy 'Nini' Spatzel (The Flesh-Eater) - Fiend | Uses Waterguns? How does that work? / Happy With Life / Spends All Day on Her Phone / Seeks Affirmation from Others / Freelancer / Bad at Customer Service | Ahvra's Notes: Many Innuendos / Vain / Trying to flirt?}
“Man, it always sucks when people ask me to show off my Curse. Cus it’s so destructive, y’know?” Nini was genuinely vexed. “And if I don’t do the destructive bit, then people think it’s super unimpressive! But it’s totally cool! Hmm… Okay. Could I get like a tub of water or something? A tub made out of super durable stuff, like something drug dealers would melt bodies in.”
Niloy’s oddly specific quest was obliged, and Mallea appeared a minute later. “So normally, I’d just spray some water on some cheap stuff with my water guns to show off my Curse. Especially cus the people wanting to see are usually being annoying and pushy so I don’t mind damaging their things. But this room looks like it’s made from pricey stuff, and I don’t want my first paycheck to be me owing you guys money.”
“Oh, and I probably should have asked this with the last request. Can I get some stuff you guys don’t mind never getting back?” Phon, somewhat jokingly, tried to offer Rusa’s tablet after confiscating it again, but Rusa damn near threw a tantrum. She jabbed Phon hard in the face, directly on her sinuses, causing her to reel back in agony. Rusa then went back to the security of her exercise ball in the corner and hissed.
Once Mallea had returned again with some empty boxes and scrap metal, Niloy continued. “Ight, awesome. So my curse is changing the properties of water. Well, any liquid, but mostly water. Most other liquids are sticky, and I don’t want to stick my hand in them. Guess I should say that I gotta touch it for it to work. No clue how long it stays in effect before I gotta retouch it. Just works sometimes and doesn’t sometimes.”
“M’kay, so the first thing everyone thinks of when they hear about my power is temperature, right? Temperature sucks, but I’ll show you guys anyways.” Niloy gave the water a little splish splash with her fingers and then stepped away from the tub. A moment later, the water began to boil rapidly. It kept boiling for a few seconds, but with each passing moment, the strain on Nini’s face became more and more exasperated until she eventually released.
The water kept boiling for a bit longer, but not nearly as long as it should have if the temperature had been raised naturally. It quickly seemed to go back to its standard room temperature and no longer even had steam rising from it. “So yeah, that’s hot, and this is cold.” Niloy repeated the process again, freezing it for just a moment before releasing her Curse. She didn’t even need to retouch water for the change to occur.
Like with hot, the icy surface soon melted away back into regular water. “And that’s why temperature sucks,” Niloy ended her showcase as if she was presenting a dissertation. “Dunno why temperature is so rough. Maybe cus temperature is naturally so fleeting? Best guess I got. The rest, though, are permanent or may as well be permanent and just lose some potency over time. Like radiation!”
The water didn’t change at all visually with those words, but the room did noticeably become more uncomfortable. “This totally would be enough to kill a human right now,” Nini crouched down and swirled her finger around in the water. “Oh, probs shoulda checked first that everyone in here wasn’t human. Yeah? Yeah. No way you guys are humans with those looks, heh.”
“Mkay, radiation gone,” Niloy was still swirling her finger. “I rarely use that one cus I don’t wanna be blamed for any new monsters or zombies or something. Usually, I just purify people's unclean drinking water. And let me tell you, they loveeeeeeee that. Like, they’re so grateful. Their faces get so ugly and cute at the same time. It’s funny.”
“I really like this one,” her flinger plopped out of the water and into her mouth. A massive beaming grin stretched across her face. “So sweet!” she swooned with her finger still in her mouth. “Wanna try some?”
“Oooo, me me me!” Kada eagerly volunteered. She chugged her water bottle that had been sitting on the table and then tossed it over to Niloy. After the bottle was filled from the tub, Niloy eagerly returned it with a suspicious smirk on her face that everyone but Kada seemed to notice.
Kada took a hesitant sip, then had the same beaming smile. “Wow, it really is so sweet! There’s no taste but it’s just so nice.” She then started chugging the water once more, and that was when Niloy’s smirk broke any sort of suspicion and turned blatantly sinister.
“Blech, oh Cosmos that’s so bitter! Uckkk,” Kada spat out the water and began pawing at her tongue with her hands, desperately trying to remove the residue. They then heard a click as Niloy took a photo with her phone before bursting out laughing.
“HehehehahahaHA! I can’t believe you fell for that. Holy zjik, I’m crying! That was so funny.” Niloy did indeed have tears of joy running down her face. She wiped them away before fiddling with her phone. “And post. That’s gonna get me so many hearts!”
Now that Kada looked extremely downtrodden, the funniness of it seemed to have subsided and Nini moved on. “Anyways, I won’t show you all of them. Most of them are pretty boring. But if you think of a way that liquid can be altered, I can probably do it. I will show you the best one, though. The one that got me my moniker: acidity.
Once again, the water didn’t change in appearance at all, not until a piece of scrap metal was dropped in. The water started fizzing like crazy, and the scrap metal melted away like butter in a hot pan.
The cardboard did the same, until it was nothing but residue at the bottom of the tub. The reason Niloy was called The Flesh-Eater was now abundantly clear. If even a drop of water she touched got on someone, it could eat away at them until there was nothing left.
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{No. 66; Itsy Humdiddy (The Wrecking Ball) - Fiend | Seriously, like picks up her truck, and just, whamo? I Gotta See This / Likes Monster Trucks and Rocks / Mechanic | Ahvra's Notes: If Joins, Make Sure all Allocated Supplies and Furniture are Reinforced / Too Strong / Big Woman}
“I dunno,” Itsy casually shrugged when asked about her Curse.
“You… don’t know?” Phon seemed the most off-put by this.
“Yup, not a clue,” Itsy huffed, seeming to find it kind of amusing.
“How can you not know?!” The aggression was spiking in Phon’s tone. “Curses become instinctual when you get them. So are you saying your instincts never kicked in?”
“Guess so,” Itsy didn’t really have a defense, but was taking this outburst calmly in stride.
“Hngh,” Phon seemed lost to pondering for a moment, and started chewing on one of her nails. “I got my vision right away, but I didn’t unlock the second part of my curse until certain conditions were met. So that must be it! You just haven’t met the conditions.”
“If you say so,” there wasn’t even a hint of rebuttal as Itsy readily agreed. “It’s whatever to me if I ever figure it out or not. I’m strong, real strong. Ain’t never found nothing I couldn’t bash my way out of. I don’t need fancy death magic or Curse or whatever when I can just crush some dude’s skull with my bare hands."
Phon still seemed a bit annoyed that Itsy wasn’t living up to her full potential, but couldn’t argue against the validity of Itsy’s viewpoint any further.
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