“Of course, this happens. When don’t I forget this fucking shit always happens,” Calvin groaned, annoyed at himself for forgetting his unique physique.
An excruciating migraine bore at his brain, joined by butterflies, worms, and all sorts of bugs tickling and wreaking havoc in his stomach. Headache, nausea, and fatigue, the whole trio was present for the event.
It was only a split second, but whatever her power was, it was strong. Stronger than most of what his physique has stopped before.
'Don’t barf. Don’t barf. Don’t barf—’ He did his best trying to soothe the growling anger in his stomach. Calvin had a mask on, and he could only imagine what would happen if he barfed like that. “Ugh…”
“What was that?” Maya, the information broker who was poking around in his mind, asked with a slight tremble in her voice. “My power just… stopped. Complete darkness… what did you do?”
He raised his finger, taking a moment to collect himself, before looking back up at her to dodge the question, “Did you get what you need?”
“What? No— I’m asking you—” She paused, sensing his expression behind the mask. “You’re still so tight-lipped even with the [Promise Stone]’s effects.”
“Didn’t promise— hurk,” he turned away, gulping the acid back down his pipe.
Maya raised her brow but didn’t say anything.
He cleared his throat after forcing his insides to calm, “Ahem— like I said. Didn’t promise to tell you anything.”
“Too much caution is bad for the heart, you know,” she tutted.
“So is coffee and alcohol,” he quipped before reiterating his question. “Did you get what you need?”
She rolled her eyes, “Barely.”
“But is it enough?” He reiterated.
“What do you think barely means, Calvin?” She said, rolling her eyes.
He froze up, feeling his chest tighten and sweat run down his back.
The woman gave him a smirk, “Don’t worry, I have more to lose if I break the promise. Anyway, I found two paths, the first one is—”
“Paths?” He echoed, curious about the term.
“Let me finish,” she gave him a glare before turning around and taking a seat back on the single couch.
She signalled for Calvin to do the same, but he was too anxious and wanting to get out as fast as he could.
“I don’t see the future, not in a way you think. I see paths, footsteps, movements, whatever you need to do to get to a destination set.”
“So, directions?”
“In a way,” she nodded. “But since you did what you did… I only know the first steps. Vaguely. If you let me try again—”
Calvin shook his head, 'Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I can control this… power.’
Maya shrugged, taking her glass again and sipping it lightly, “As I said earlier, two paths— well, three, but that last one is…” she made a frown and shook her head, “two paths where you don’t end up dead or wanting to die.”
He frowned, “What do you mean?”
She ignored his question and continued her explanation, “The first path: straight, scenic, and a road paved by the monarch herself. It will take long, but it will take you where you need to go. The second: slightly hilly, and a bit rocky, but donned with steel you will get there in half the time the first path would’ve.”
“Please… just, say it simply. My head hurts enough as it is,” He groaned.
Her brow raised inquisitively before nodding, “Two ways to get there. The first one, you wait.”
“…and?”
“Nothing, you just wait a week then come back. By then, finding out Batty’s location would be as simple as asking anyone and getting there would be as simple as walking through a road.”
He frowned, “A week?”
“If I had to guess… it’s probably because of Empress.”
“You have to guess?”
“I see paths, not destinations, not anything else. And with you, I know how to start, and vaguely where to go from there, but as the paths wind and twist it gets harder to see through.”
'Fortune-teller power and mind-reader power combined,’ Calvin was greatly intrigued and mildly envious of her power. “So, what did you see?”
“I saw that the path will get you to where she is and that you won’t have a hard time walking through. Whether or not your friend is dead, I have no idea as it’s at the end of the path. I can only guess.”
“I see,” he nodded. “So, what does that have to do with 'her majesty’.”
“Whispers and hearsays, but they all pretty much explain why the zones have been getting more and more chaotic by the day since the past month and a half,” she looked downwards and scratched her chin in thought, “She’s not here. The only thing that makes sense why everyone’s becoming so bold. I don’t know about the other monarchs, but Empress herself is probably not here.”
“So I have to wait a week because Empress isn’t home?”
“You have to wait a week because Empress is coming back home within that time frame, scold the zones wreaking havoc in her absence, and probably lay waste on the Scrappers that have been running around and kidnapping everyone— which is one of the big no-no’s she really doesn’t like,” she explained, “And then, every obstacle on the way to Batty would’ve probably been reduced to rubble.”
“And where is that?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I can guess. She’s somewhere on the Scrapper’s turf,” she suddenly gestured with her glass, “every path I saw, good or bad, involved the Scrappers one way or another.”
“How many paths did you see?” He couldn’t help but ask, to which he only received a smile in return. He muttered a curse before summarizing, “So either wait a week and probably find her rotting corpse buried with the rest of them— or?”
“Or join the Kingdom’s Knighthood, which is basically a fancy way of saying you’re going to apply to be Empress’ henchman,” she shrugged, “not sure how you’ll find your friend with that, or how you’ll even get to the recruitment point fast enough, but as I said earlier it’ll be faster.”
'The badge,’ Calvin remembered what Showstopper had given him earlier. “Three or four days?”
“Thereabouts,” she nodded, “so, choice is yours.”
His shoulders slumped. It was a choice between a week of waiting versus half a week of being a henchman.
His first instinct was to choose the shorter timeframe, but thinking about it, it would be unlikely for him to be able to keep that up while attending classes in the Academy. Not only would it be suspicious, it would be dangerous to keep going back and forth. The only 'choice’ in that path would be to stay in Villainopolis for the same timeframe, which wouldn’t be ideal.
The weeklong wait had similar problems. Firstly, it was a week long. Secondly, it was more likely Batty would be already dead, which defeated the purpose. And thirdly, he can’t be sure he can go back to this place after a week.
'Oh sh— does that mean that in all the paths she saw, Dox wouldn’t show up or even help at some point? Damn it, so I can’t even wait for her,’ he groaned, 'do I have to go so far? I can just say I tried my best at this point, right? We’re not even that close, she’s my ex-kidnapper for fuck’s sake. I don’t owe her anything.’
His leg tapped the floor as cogs in his mind whirred, trying their best to find a good resolution to this conundrum.
“Wait,” his eyes widened a bit, “you said there’s a third?”
She was hesitant but nodded nonetheless, “There is. It’s more dangerous, but it’s also quicker and you might get more out of it than any other path. But… you’re going to have to do something you’ve done before— and you won’t like it.”
Calvin eagerly sat on the couch’s armrest and gestured for her to continue, “Lay it on me.”
Her lips pursed, “Are you sure?”
“Is it really that dangerous?” He asked, curious as to why she was acting like that. “I’m just going to listen to it, what could happen?”
“Well,” there was more struggle in her eyes before finally she relented, “like I said. It’s much much much faster than the other two options, but the level of danger you are going to go through matches it. That also means the timeframe is tighter and much more precise.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Calvin nodded, weirdly getting reminded of speedruns he watched and tried to do back on Earth, “I can do precise.”
“I know,” she nodded, “there’s also— no, I shouldn’t say it.”
“You already did,” he urged her with another gesture.
The corner of her lip turned upward subtly, “you might— no, you’ll definitely get more than you were looking for.”
He paused to think about what she meant, “I thought you only saw paths?”
“When a path gilded with gold and silver and littered with silk and gems, what do you think it means?”
“That it’s a trap?”
She chuckled, “Like I said, 'dangerous’. But the 'bait’ is real. You’ll get to the same place.”
He was really itching to find out what she saw with her powers, but her vagueness told him she’d never spill specifics, “You still haven’t told me what I have to do to start the path.”
“I already did, remember? I told you, you have to do something you’ve done before— in a way.”
“Fucking what? Eat? Sleep? Shit? For the love of all that is patient, stop being so fucking vague and tell me.”
“I’m a broker, it’s part of the gig,” she chuckled, “Anyway, you’re going to head to a bench near the zone’s centre, take a seat, and wait for ten minutes..”
He waited for her to continue, “…that’s it?”
She nodded, “That’s it. Just keep calm, don’t panic, go with the flow, and you’ll find yourself on your way to your destination in a matter of minutes.”
“I fucking hate riddles,” he muttered under his breath, “And what? Should I lie back and think of England too?”
“What?” It was her turn to be confused.
“Sitting around and waiting? That’s the mysterious fucking thing I’ve done before?”
“No, no,” she shook her head and gave him a wry smile, “Sitting around and waiting to get kidnapped.”
----------------------------------------
'Don’t be nervous. Breathe in, and out. Breathe in… and out,’ a boring-looking man, mundane in all aspects, was sitting somewhere in the middle of Kingdom. He repeated a calming mantra in his head while looking around with faux calm.
His chest moved up and down in rhythm of his thoughts, but the erratic beating of his heart and the un-thawable chill in his veins seemed unperturbed by his attempts to quell their unease.
'Don’t be nervous, it’ll be fine,’ he thought, sneaking a mild attempt at self-delusion in between his repeating mantra.
He fidgeted uncomfortably on his seat, feeling the wood on the bench be extra prickly today.
It was the bench he’d always sat in, same time every day since the last week. It was a pretty okay bench, all things considered. He had sat on many before, and even on the ground a lot of times, just it being dry and relatively level made it leagues better than most of them.
But this particular day, it didn’t. The dryness felt like it burnt his skin, and the flatness made each bump and each splinter hurt more than usual.
Everything just felt— wrong.
A tingling in his head appeared and interrupted his reverie, followed by a voice that nearly jolted him out of his seat. «This is Brown, are you ready?»
'Brown?’ He echoed, struggling to grasp any sense of familiarity with the name.
He knew of the three disposables; Red, Blue, and Green.
He knew that they, and a couple of other people, were given a mission that contrasted greatly against his: to run wild. He also knew that there was no one called Brown amongst their group.
Even if there was, he knew it would be confusing. He himself had brown hair, and others have even browner. Everyone would’ve been called Brown.
«Brown? No— my name is literally Brown, you get? Luke Brown. Remember? The guy that was with the boss when she gave you this mission— damn it, whatever, stop thinking so much, it’s doing my head in. Goddamn overthinkers…» The voice ranted, muttering towards the end. «I’m here to make sure you’re ready, there’s been a change of plans.»
'Here? He’s here?’ Brows immediately raised as he started scanning the crowd for anyone with brown hair.
«Not literally, dumbass. I’m in the sorry excuse of an empty space you call 'your head’. Anyway, as I was saying before some fuckwit interrupted me— there’s been a change of plans. Ignore the timings, it’s fucked. Go when I tell you to.»
'Go?’ His brows curled and a frown formed on his face.
«Like planned— but not exactly. I mean, just— grab as many as you can before escaping, but ignore the escape route. Ignore the panic, that blue bitch’s henchmen, everything. Even the quota. Actually, especially the quota. Just grab as many as you can and head towards any of the portals. Run down the sewers if you need, but don’t stay there too long. They’re going to flush it out soon if too many go there.»
He started looking around, anxiety and confusion building up with every word sent in his head, 'What happened?’
«Nothing to worry your empty little head about. Just wait for my signal. Brown out.»
'Out?’ He repeated in his mind just as the tingling stopped. 'Did something happen? What about my mission?’
He rolled his shoulders and straightened his back, sitting up alert on the bench before eventually forcing himself to relax just in case he looked too suspicious.
He recounted the conversation in his head, which he was unsure whether or not it was actually in his head or 'in his head’, so to speak. 'Ignore the quota… maybe we don’t have a lot of time? Is Empress coming?’
Getting antsy at the thought, he re-focused and started looking around to find 'targets’. He was trying to plan ahead, which never hurt before.
From what he could see, there were a handful of obvious ones.
An old man right across the street was making balls appear and disappear from his hand, and even sometimes into the pockets of unentertained children gathered right in front of him.
A girl sitting in front of a puddle, making faces as she struggled to make the water move even a tiny bit.
And a woman in a suit and a pair of sunglasses, glowing slightly through her clothes.
There were a few more he saw after that, but there was no obvious indication that they had powers. Still, he’d take them if he could.
'Seven. One short of quota, if they’re supers.’ He recounted Brown’s words. 'That girl should be easy, but that old man might have tricks. Old men are always tricky,’ he thought, remembering his own old man, 'That one with the sunglasses… I wonder if the thing the boss gave me would work on her? It should, I think?’
He instinctively felt the tech in his pocket, making sure it hadn’t left him.
'Throw it up and look away. Don’t look back until the bang,’ he reminded himself.
They’d tried it out once, him and the others in the mission, but only accidentally. It left him blind, deaf, and numb; like swimming endlessly in the sky, unable to move or do anything. It also burned a bit, and he swore he could still hear ringing in his ears even a week later.
The effects lasted ten minutes, which was an eternity to someone floating in nothingness.
'Ten minutes,’ he reminded himself. He started thinking of everything he had to do, to make sure he didn’t flub anything up.
A quandary presented itself in his head. A wrinkle, a splinter, a failure on his part.
'That guy— Brown— he said to ignore the plan… but I don’t remember where the other portals are.’ He stressed, blaming himself. The only parts of the plan he knew were his own. 'No, I can do it, it’ll be fine. I’ll find a different portal if the one I know is blocked.’
His foot started tapping uncontrollably and unconsciously as he started looking around some more, trying to plan his 'route’. Even though he didn’t need to meet it, the quota was still eating at him.
Just then, as if to answer his prayers, a man in full black walked up to his bench and sat down right beside him. He wore a coat, a suit, and a mask, all in a colour not dissimilar to the sky’s.
A smile appeared on his face as he watched the man’s blurry visage out of the corner of his eye, a single thought appearing in his mind, 'Quota.’
----------------------------------------
“Calm down and go with the flow? The fuck is with the facebook-ass quote,” Calvin let out muffled scoff filled with ridicule as he laid his back against the particular bench Maya pointed out to him. 'Fuck. Why am I here? There was the safe option; just wait a week and nothing else. It was there. The option was right there, goddamn it.’
Even while he was having his internal monologue and complaining about every doubtful life choices he’d been making so far, he knew himself why he went for the third choice— it was Batty’s best chance.
Even though the others would’ve been safer, and far less stressful at the very least, the longer he took tarrying and not making an effort, the less chance she had staying alive.
'Why am I even doing this?’ He asked, even though he knew the answer. There was a plethora he’d thought of, even from the past week.
Debt. Dox told him she’d outed herself to Vanguard during the kidnapping, and testified so that they'd send heroes to rescue their particular kidnapping. He also vividly remembered her defending Ina from Driver and the perverted fat fuck that was with him at the time.
Revenge, or at least a chance at one. To get back at the terrorists that made him feel helpless that night— that put him and his friends in danger.
Quests. He knew he could knock down a couple [Road To Heroism] quests, saving people who were kidnapped. Getting points would be sweet, and rescuing Batty would just be icing on the cake.
Camaraderie, a moral high ground, being a true hero— a lot of other bullshit excuses came up even when he was on his way to the bench.
'Doesn’t matter, I’m here,’ Calvin erased those trains of thought, committing fully to his decision. 'There’s more to this… mystery. It doesn’t feel simple.’
His mind went to a board in the back of his mind, where he pinned most of his thoughts for later, ’If she’s somehow with the Scrappers, or if she encountered them while looking for the terrorist… are they somehow related?’
Some things didn’t make sense for Calvin. If they were one and the same, the Scrappers and the terrorists, why were they in the Academy? Just to cause chaos? Or to kidnap kids? It just was too dangerous that it didn’t make sense for meticulous people to risk such a thing.
His brows raised as a thought came to him, 'The terrorists were copying powers, the Scrappers are kidnapping supers, Batty is investigating the power-draining machine, and I, or Orion, was a subject of those power-draining experiments…’
A chill ran down his spine as connections formed between everything and everyone. Batty, the Scrappers, the terrorists, the weird device, and him— everything was somehow connected in a way that was too hard for him to understand at the moment.
He shook his head, 'I’ll find out more later— wait, is this what she meant about getting more than I was looking for? Or is everything just a coincidence?’
The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense, making him let out a chuckle at his own naiveté, “Coincidence… yeah right. Is that even a word here?”
Whatever it was, he’ll figure it out one way or another.
'I should prepare for the worst,’ he said, taking out a particular box from his pocket and opening it, grimacing at the image of fingers rolling around inside.
He looked to the man sitting on the bench beside him, making sure he didn’t notice, before grabbing two of the fingers and putting the box back in.
He’d have put on eight, one on each finger apart from the thumb, but thankfully he thought about it before. He wasn’t sure how the 'trigger’ would work with every finger having a gun-sleeve. Would it fire all at once? Would it only fire the forefinger, rendering the rest useless?
Whatever the case, it would be dangerous.
'Fuck you hindsight,’ he chuckled to himself. 'Still, I wish I put on two earlier. Would’ve made dealing with the dollar-store Power Ranger trio much much easier.’
After putting his gloves back on, his gaze went to the watch to note the time when a realization came to him, 'Fuck, I didn’t see when I sat here? She said ten minutes, right? Has it been ten minutes?’
He started fidgeting, tapping the armrest and scratching his neck as every second counted down to an unknown time. 'Calm down, go with the fucking flow.’
As he was trying to stop himself from sliding down the steep spiral of anxiety forming under his feet, he was knocked conscious by a loud bang ringing out from the distance.
An explosion.
He’d seen, heard, and practically tasted explosions more than he was comfortable with just this very evening, so he was quite familiar with those at this point. It was a boom, and quite a large one at that.
A pair of knights walking by suddenly stopped to look towards the direction of the explosion, freezing in place like deer in headlights. After a second, they flinched and tapped their helmets, presumably talking to a superior or something similar.
'Is it that red-haired bastard again?’ He thought, immediately dismissing it. 'No, I saw the power absorption window. He’s dead. This has to be related to what’s about to happen.’
While he was waiting for more to happen, a clink rang in his ear. The man right beside him was holding a ball that looked suspiciously like a disco. He tried looking at the man’s face but found himself unable to move his eyes away from the ball.
“What the—” he tried prying his eyes away, but it seemed impossible.
The man then pulled his arm back, eyes still glued to the ball, and threw it out in the open. His gaze chased it like a dog in a park, noticing every other person in the vicinity doing the same thing as him.
'Here we go again,’ he thought before his vision was blanketed with whiteness.