'So that’s the one I absorbed earlier.’
Calvin’s lips had a subtle upturn as his eyes looked sharply at thin-air. His currently uplifted mood was easily explained by two things: what was added to his Super Information Screen, and what was not.
Super Information
Super Name None Super Attributes Super Status Alive, Spirit-severance, Promise Stone Super Body 2 (+1 Plain White Shirt) (+0.3 Promise Stone) Super Quest Road to Heroism IV*, A True Hero's Name, An Unknown Power Super Mind 2 (+0.3 Promise Stone) Super Points 4
Super Spirit 3 (-0.3 Spirit-severance) (+0.3 Promise Stone) (+1.1 Fragmented Essence)
Super Powers
Impervious Pebble Gourmand's Insight Color Control Jumper Vigilant Aegis Personal Debt
Mouthbound Catalyst
Surface Meld Unknown
'Maybe the 'two powers per point’ theory isn’t exactly bullshit,’ he thought, nodding to himself as he felt quite happy with the revelation. 'Unless there’s something else about [Spirit Bloat] that I haven’t discovered, which is probably the case.’
There was still no assurance that his theory was correct but, at the very least, it wasn’t one-per-point— which would suck. Doubly so due to the seemingly linear increase in cost for each Super Point he had to invest in Super Spirit. Triply, due to the scarcity of each point.
'I really should focus on completing the quests one of these days,’ he eyed a particular 'true name’ quest. 'Maybe I can moonlight as this persona to get a name? I need to focus on one power, though. Speaking of—’
He pursed his lips and willed Super Help for its inevitably helpful explanation of the new power.
Super Help
Surface Meld
Fuse two surfaces together.
'Surfaces?’ Calvin’s brows furrowed at the wording.
“Kid.” Batty’s face suddenly appeared through the screen.
“Holy—” He flinched, pulling his arm back and nearly punching her.
“Are you okay?” She asked, much like earlier albeit with more severity in her tone this time, “I know it’s... hard. Haah— try and ignore it for now. Your conscience, morals, whatever. You can think about it later, after we survive. Right now, you need to focus up. We need to focus up.” She paused, looking back at where they came from. “I don’t know why they stopped, but those hell-made contraptions might be hot on our tail right now. And we probably have Scrappers in front as well. So don’t get distracted.”
He took a deep breath, mentally swiping away the panel as he felt the sting of her admonishing gaze.
“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized, not exactly able to tell her that his distraction lay elsewhere.
The bodies were gruesome but hospitals have seen worse injuries. He had seen worse injuries. The beetles were scarier, if not for the fact that he could destroy them, especially with the new powers.
Still, her words brought him back to the reality of the situation. They were knee-deep in an evil lair, sandwiched by enemies, trying to escape through a dubiously 'accommodating’, for lack of a better term, door.
He shook his head, trying his best to reign in the wandering trains of thoughts.
Batty looked him up and down before nodding in reply, turning back around to lead the way with cautious and deliberate footsteps.
He continued following silently, or at least as silently as he could with the leather shoes he had on, trying to smother the fires of curiosity welling up inside him.
He’d love nothing more than to stop, open up the panels, experiment on the new powers, find out how to use them in conjunction with his current ones, find out what can be done to evolve them— basically, every possibly stupid and definitely loud thing he could do with them.
Thankfully, the unreasonable urges were abruptly snuffed by the occasional trembling underneath them. While the source was a mystery, it wasn’t one he’d like to find out. Not at the moment, at least.
'Just keep moving. Just keep moving,’ Calvin started singing in his mind, trying to calm the nerves that suddenly came to him after Batty’s reminder of reality. 'What do we do? We move.’
The ex-kidnapper and two-time-kidnapee duo silently and swiftly made their way up the kidnapping gang’s lair, up towards the floor full of people— people who would, unsurprisingly, share the same sentiments with them in regards to the current circumstances and hopefully assist them in their escape.
That is if they haven’t yet been mauled, dismembered, or otherwise disintegrated by the robotic sacred dung beetles.
The stairs they walked up on were surprisingly clear of any obstacles. Not a beetle, nor turret, nor a person in the way. Still, the trembling kept their guards up and slowed them down with wariness.
Soon enough, the two reached the apex without problem. As they did, Batty raised her hand and gave Calvin a signal to pause. She turned her head slightly, closing her eyes and focusing on her ears.
Calvin mimicked her, trying to do the same.
'So quiet,’ he thought, the phrase describing silence as deafening now making apparent to him why it existed.
The anxious beating of his heart overpowered any other side that might have been trying to reach out. At least, until a tremor came and went.
After a moment of trying to hear, Batty turned to him. She gave him a light nod, gesturing with her head for him to come up.
'Back here again,’ Calvin thought. “Holy hell.”
His wary gaze was greeted by a familiar prison 'courtyard’ he escaped from. It looked just like how he remembered, a sparse forest of cement pillars above an eighties dance floor for giants that also doubled as prison cells for non-giants— except every tile was now open.
There was also a matter of it looking like a battlefield. Damage caused by an undeniable skirmish scarred the cement, deep gashes and holes on the stone made the hair on Calvin’s neck rise on end.
“Bodies…” Calvin couldn’t help but whisper to himself as he squinted.
Blood and guts, both from man and machine.
It was in the distance, middling the entire floor, but it was unmistakable.
Scattered everywhere, parts from both parties, from the floor to the ceiling. Almost like a painting from the Renaissance, with grey cement acting as the canvas and the insides of various people and machines acting as the ink.
He could only wonder who the artists were, and how war-like their 'brushes’ looked.
“How many are there?” Calvin asked.
He didn’t count, but he was sure there was a lot more than a handful.
Flesh outnumbered metal, much to his silent horror. What’s more curious, however, was that some of the bodies had particularly scrappy attire— almost terroristic.
And they were in the majority, which oddly brought no amount of relief nor schadenfreude to Calvin.
There were still non-terrorist 'casualties’, but they were fewer, and more spread apart.
“I don’t know, but that’s a bit less bodies than I expected,” Batty murmured, clicking her tongue before continuing, “and a lot less beetles.”
“Fewer,” Calvin whispered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “You’re right.”
He turned his attention back towards the open cells, brows furrowing as he felt how eerie it was seeing that many holes in the ground.
“Did they escape? No, everything’s open… why are the cells open?” Calvin whispered as his moment’s gander turned to an observant stare, surveying the scene of destruction. “Who opened them?”
“I mean, who else, kid?” Batty pitched a rhetorical in reply.
It didn’t take a second’s thought to come to a conclusion. There’s only one person they know this act of 'heroism’ would be obviously attributed to.
“I thought the plan was to go back for them after escaping? After getting backup?” Calvin asked.
“Must’ve got stung by his own heroic conscience or something. Works for us, though. Easier to go through now that they’re probably making their own way up,” She suddenly prodded her bat against his watch and whispered a question while looking back the way they came, “By the way, still nothing?”
He looked at his watch and shook his head.
Earlier, he’d set it to silent and activated the watch’s peculiar ability to alert him mentally— i.e. supernaturally— as per Lightspeed’s insistence. It was uncomfortable at first, but it was better, especially with the current operation’s 'subterfuge’.
It hadn’t alerted him to anything on the way up. Nevertheless, he still brought up the messaging module and checked to be sure.
“Nope,” he reiterated with a whisper.
“So we just have to hope he did his job.”
“Thought the beetles and the open prisons were clue enough?”
“It’s a hint that he made it up the mound. Whether or not he pitched a fast or a slider—”
“Will you stop talking baseball?” He sighed.
“Mythos thing. Can’t help it,” she shrugged.
'Never get a Mythos power. Got it,’ he added to his tens of mental notes that will be inevitably forgotten once he finds a cool one.
“Maybe he got there and started pushing random buttons. We can’t really know if the door is open now.”
“Still—”
“Still, you’re right,” she continued, “Like I said, we can only hope. And hope we will. Now, let’s move. Quickly.”
Although she stressed swiftness, the two of them still made certain that there wasn’t a single sound or movement in front of them before they even took the first step on the floor— a reasonable amount of caution given their prior experience.
Batty walked slowly, the bat readied at her side, her eyes glued to the nearest beetle. Calvin copied her pace, but his attention was more towards a different area. The large 'gash’ on the pillar and the person-turned-paste below it.
“Damn,” Calvin whispered as he squinted and looked at a different one.
A crater, with the same unfortunate result.
It wasn’t beetles, or at least he hoped it wasn’t. It could be the power of one of the Scrappers, or it could be something else. Whatever the case, it was horrifying, and he wouldn’t know how to start fighting something that could do that.
“That’s still a lot of beetles,” he murmured.
Like before, Calvin didn’t bother to start counting. There was no need to. Any amount of beetles above one was already 'too many’ in his opinion, especially after having a bout with them downstairs. A simple gander at the scenery and one would know that the number exceeded it manyfold.
A lot of it looked irreparably damaged or wrecked by a variety of powers, though. A number looked coated in acid, a few still singed the air, evidence of power used by the kidnapees.
There were one or two that looked like they were stuck on the pillars, earning Calvin’s curiosity from their peculiarity.
'Like they got sucked towards a wall… maybe [Surface Meld] is going to evolve in that direction,’ he fantasized briefly before pulling himself back to reality. “You think this might be why they disappeared downstairs? They all came here?”
“You think it might be better to keep quiet while we’re sneaking through, kid?” Batty whispered back with a frustrated sigh.
“Pretty sure if something’s alive or 'working’ here, they’ve seen us by now.”
“Pretty sure they wouldn’t if you kept quiet.”
“Fine, fine,” he murmured.
He stifled the sigh he was about to let out. Despite the false bravado he tried his best to keep going the whole night, he knew himself from the very start that he was in over his head with everything. Especially now, hammered by the experience, he knew this was probably too much for him.
The handful of scraps with terrorists and gangsters, dancing with death through explosions, gunshots, and invisible blades, and a chase through what felt like half the entire city. He also got kidnapped midway through the night, following the recommendation of a potentially strong and definitely mad alcoholic fortune-teller.
Mental fatigue was getting to him, and understandably so.
At this point, the only rest he’s gotten is the one when he got knocked out and kidnapped.
'Future Calvin, I hope you’re sleeping the shit out of the bed back in the dorm…’ he thought.
A spark went through his head, the description of his newfound power coming back to him. Or at least one of them.
He started sifting through the new powers again, trying to lock on to [Personal Debt]. It was hard, doing that while also trying to pay attention to his environment and his sneaking, but he eventually found and started pulling on it.
'Mental. Mental. Mental.’ He chanted internally, trying to will the power to 'borrow’ mental clarity from his future self.
After a good while, a refreshing feeling suddenly washed over him. Focus returned, and clarity was raised. It felt like he just had a good night’s sleep. Not the kind of sleep that was too long that he felt like the walking dead. Just the perfect amount.
'Wow… this is amazing,’ he thought. 'Although, clearer thoughts means clearer hindsight… I’m definitely going to regret this later.’
Debts incurred will be debts repaid.
But that was for future Calvin to worry about.
Batty suddenly stopped and raised her hand, spinning it around before gesturing to the side. Calvin had no idea what she meant until she started moving, circling around and giving the inoperational beetle in front of them a wide birth. 'Twenty-first century plague’-wide.
'Insides look wrecked,’ Calvin thought as he observed while moving behind Batty. 'In one shot too, I think. Doesn’t look like anything else got hit, maybe a dent from the impact. But something tore through the chest—’
Clack
The two immediately turned towards the source of the metallic clatter, a bat and a fist readied in retaliation for what might come out.
Not a second later, iron creaked and took the two’s attention upwards. One of the 'dead’ beetles, previously stuck like a fly on a thick pillar, slowly groaned and finally fell like a sack of bricks. It crashed onto the floor with the grace Calvin could only hope for, making a sound like an old-timey television getting chucked out of a second-story window.
Seconds of silence passed as the clunking and the clanking finally died down, the pair’s anxious looks turned to one of relief.
They glanced at one another before easing their stances.
“Now I’m really sure nothing here’s moving— could’ve heard that from a different floor,” Calvin whispered, looking around.
Batty looked to be in thought for a moment before giving him a small nod, “Still, be careful”
Noting her words, gave him an assuring thumbs up before slowly approaching the wreckage of the fallen beetle with Dox’s finger guns at the ready. He briefly imagined himself like a gunslinger approaching his kill before realizing how dumb he must look with finger guns.
He kicked the beetle twice, lightly at first, taking note of any movement before fully crouching and examining the robot.
“Like a robot piñata,” he murmured, turning around to find Batty similarly examining a dead scrapper. “What killed that guy?”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Well, they always looked like a heartless bunch,” she replied, prodding the body with her bat. She looked towards Calvin who was staring blankly at her through his mask, “he has a hole in his chest.”
“Ah.” He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, instead throwing another question he was curious about, “So— how did they kidnap so many strong supers? Looks like they got massacred here.”
“How did they kidnap you?”
“How do terrorists kidnap people?”
“Not a terrorist, kid.”
“You were, though?” He smirked. “Ex-terrorist, maybe?”
She rolled her eyes, not bothering to bite back, “Just answer the question.”
Calvin thought back for a moment before giving an answer, “Disco flashbang.”
She paused. “Disco… flashbang?”
“Disco flashbang,” he reiterated as if it made all the sense in the world.
“I— was it tinker tech?”
“Probably.”
“Then that’s how,” she spoke frankly, turning towards the beetles. “Just because you can bludgeon one of these insect-shaped horror tanks with your bare hands doesn’t mean you can’t be knocked out and kidnapped with something you don’t expect. Even the strongest telepaths get offed with a bat to the noggin.”
“Right,” Calvin murmured, now wanting a 'resistance’ type of superpower now that she mentioned something like that. 'Maybe [Vigilant Aegis] can evolve to shield stuff like that too?’
“Also,” she continued, looking at the Scrapper before turning towards one of the nearby dead non-Scrapper that looked like she was torn in two. “I don’t think… nevermind”
“Nope, not 'neverminding’. What were you saying?”
“…I don’t think they’re the ones that killed the Scrappers.”
His brows curled, “Why?”
“Doesn’t matter right now,” she shook her head, walking towards the fully-dead halved woman.
His eyes lingered before eventually turning back towards the wrecked innards of the beetle in front of him.
Like he saw from afar, its insides were scrambled, to say the least. Like something went inside and started spinning. It was obvious from where, though, as every beetle pinned against a surface seemed to have the same hole in their abdomen.
He hummed, carefully watching the beetle as he neared and started tapping the surface. He grabbed a particularly large piece of the leg and tried bending it, having trouble even with all his strength.
'It’s not gold. At least not pure gold. Or maybe tinker tech magic fuckery made it that strong.’
As he was inspecting the material, a thought occurred to him. Particularly a memory. The memory of him trying to find something non-conductive to put in his mouth.
[Mouthbound Catalyst] seems like a power more useful than its name suggested, but its limitations were obvious. Specifically, the need to put things in his mouth. And to find things to put in his mouth.
Bearing that in mind, he started grabbing and pocketing bits and bobs, screws and shattered metal, anything that could realistically be put in his mouth.
'That’s a bit too big to fit. That might fit. That’s… definitely too sharp. I wonder, can I fit that inside my— this is a weird train of thought,’ he shook his head and looked to the glass abdomen of the beetle. 'Glass. Non-conductive. Can be razor-sharp. Not to mention, cool-looking. And it pierced through the previous beetle like butter.’
He tried prying off the abdominal carapace made of the transparent material he needed, finding it a tad bit more durable than he thought. He smacked and banged, trying to get it off, ending up shattering the thing from the edge.
The insides spilt, like a jar of marbles, and clattered a smattering of metallic parts and crystalline shards on the ground.
“Oops,” he muttered. Still, mission accomplished. Into the pocket, they went.
“Stop playing around, kid” Batty spoke, approaching him with the bat behind her.
“I was just—”, he was about to explain himself when something caught his eye, “—wait, what is that?”
He swiped away some of the debris still inside the beetle, snapped off a few wires and circuitry, and reached deep inside the wolf-sized robot scarab. He felt around inside, frowning as he felt the chill and the shape of the object he saw earlier.
“Uh oh,” He whispered as he started gripping the object.
With a heft and a huff, he pulled his hand out and immediately checked what was in his hands.
A metal stake.
Similar to the ones Dox showed the two of them a few weeks ago. Similar to the one used by the shadow-clad terrorist who attacked him and Quinn a week ago. And very similar to the ones Lonnie used in their fight— albeit much larger.
The chilling polish it had sent shivers down his spine. His eyes immediately went to where the beetle originally was pinned on and sure enough there was a hole in exactly the same size as the arm-sized 'stake’ in his hand.
'It can’t be him… but it’s too similar? At least as similar as a nondescript sharp metal chopstick is.’ He frowned, turning towards Batty. Her eyes were similarly glued to the weapon, glancing towards him for a moment before walking closer, “Any chance they were kidnapped too?”
“I—” She frowned before shaking her head in denial. “No, it’s just a weapon. It might not be the same person.”
“You really think that?”
“I said might, didn’t I?”
“But if it was,” he handed her the needle, “weren’t they on the same side.”
She took the needle and scrutinized it as he did, “if— and that’s a large 'if’— if it was them, then I don’t know… there’s a chance they’re cleaning up again, I guess. Like last time.”
“Maybe,” he muttered, but something wasn’t adding up. He looked around and quickly realized what it was. “No, actually, that makes sense. Those Scrappers probably have the same 'stake’-sized hole in their chest, right?”
Calvin gestured to the Scrapper beneath Batty.
She looked down at it, frowning, but acknowledging his words, “I don’t know, kid. Let’s just keep our head on straight and keep going.”
Calvin’s eyes looked back the way they came, a suggestion popping up in his head, “I think we should wait for Lightspeed.”
“For once, I don’t actually think it’s a bad idea,” she nodded. “but this isn’t a good place to wait.”
“Right on that.” Calvin nodded, looking around at the vast, flat, and empty space. “I feel naked, for some reason.”
“I’m technically naked, kid.”
“Please don’t say that.”
The woman lightly chuckled before beckoning to him, “Let’s go.”
The two continued through the disco prison, less tense and more leisurely than before, but still with more haste than a walk in the park. Batty kept an eye on Calvin and their path back, her frown subtly growing with every glance.
“Right. Try to keep an eye on the hero,” she said after a good minute of travel, pointing her golden bat at Calvin’s watch.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”
He opened up his holowatch and brought up the tracking app, tapping through the useful, albeit creepy, program. He manipulated it and started trying to track Lightspeed’s watch, an idea he forgot to try after getting his ID earlier.
> Cannot track: Insufficient Permissions
'Insufficient permissions? That’s a thing?’ His eyes narrowed at the message, his head trying to think of a reason. 'Maybe they have it so it can’t track heroes or something. I can still track Batty’s watch, though.’
He set the program to track the woman’s watch, getting a result nearby.
“Hey,” he whispered towards her, “do you want to get your watch back?”
She paused, looking back towards him with an annoyed glare, “You have it?”
“No, I have a—” he hesitated showing the anti-cape the privacy-breaching hero-made app, “—ahem, I saw it earlier.”
She nodded, “How? Where?”
“It’s in a cell somewhere over there,” he said with a gesture towards the general direction the application pointed him towards. “At least, last time I saw it. I think.”
“You think?”
“I didn’t really want to check closely on account of all the drugs.”
“What are you talking about? Drugs— you know what, just lead the way. I have things I need in there.”
Calvin nodded, jumping to the lead. He followed the mark on the map, a disco cell that was relatively closer than he thought.
He paused as soon as he arrived on top of the drug-addled Scrapper’s cell, flinching as he saw what was below him.
The man was hanging on the prison’s wall, impaled through both shoulders, ankles, and stomach with metal stakes, covered in blood that was still dripping down from his mouth and throat both pierced through by a similar piece of metal.
Calvin felt his stomach churning even as he forcibly looked away from the gruesome scene. “Ugh…”
He wasn’t new to seeing wounds, seeing gore, seeing dead bodies. In his two lifetimes, he’d certainly seen far more than the average. But not this. Not torture.
“Like I said, kid. Harden your heart. Think on it later, once it’s safe. You’re going to see much worse if you want to keep doing what you’ve been doing,” Batty spoke, patting his back.
He gagged a bit, “I think my stomach’s the one that needs hardening.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled. “That part never gets better.”
“Great…” he groaned, swallowing his spit.
“Just look away,” she murmured. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Which is it? 'It never gets better’ or 'You’ll get used to it’?”
She thought for a moment before nodding, “Yes.”
Calvin scoffed, “Still think it isn’t our 'stake down the throat’ guy?”
“What makes you think it’s a guy?”
“The penetrating part of his jig is a particular—” he paused, interrupted by a flick to the ear, “Ow. That’s child abuse.”
“Like you said. 'Ex-terrorist’.” She gestured to herself.
“So you admit it?”
“What do you think?”
“I think… I want to get out of this shithole and soak for half a day.”
“You and me both, kid,” she patted his shoulder, “my watch down there?”
“Hmmhmm,” Calvin nodded, looking back down and hardening his stomach.
“Don’t force yourself.”
“I’m fine,” he lied. “Somewhere down that area.”
Batty followed his finger, sighing with slight relief, “At least it won’t be wet?”
“Yeah, just riddled with drugs and disease.”
“Haah… you got a towel? Or a mask?”
He nodded, taking out a cloth mask and handing it to her.
She gave a nod of appreciation before putting the mask on, making sure it was sealed before jumping down. She looked at her bat before tossing it upwards, “Catch, kid.”
He grabbed it and looked back down towards her with a questioning look.
“Stay there and keep an eye out,” she said before looking towards the mess and the gunk she was standing on.
“Gladly,” he answered just as a sigh escaped the woman’s mouth.
Quickly, he endeavoured to become a sentinel, a silent guardian akin to a sentry that scanned the horizon for any and all possible threats.
Quickly, he grew bored of looking at a still landscape, prompting him to open up his new power’s Super Help screen.
Super Help
Surface Meld
Fuse two surfaces together.
'It’s nothing if not concise, I guess?’
He looked at the golden bat, feeling the shine familiar to him. Remembering Batty’s words from earlier, he used [Surface Meld] on it, trying to stick it to his hand.
“Hooh…” As soon as he felt the drain, he stopped trying and immediately confirmed his hypothesis. “Hey, is this my wrench?”
Batty’s voice came, mildly echoing from the cell, “Yeah? I thought I told you already.”
“But— how?”
“It’s a Mythos thing.”
“You can turn things into a bat?”
“Yes and no,” she answered, “ask later, I’m busy trying to find this damn— cough.”
“No, but, this thing’s like— null-something, right?”
She paused her search, standing up to look at Calvin, “Paranull?”
“Yeah, that,” he nodded.
“But it isn’t? Give it here,” she caught the bat Calvin threw down.
She looked at the bat for a second, brows furling as she started pulling on her power. At least that’s what it looked like to Calvin, seeing as the gold weapon started 'unwrapping’, turning smaller and back into a wrench.
She looked back at Calvin with a confused face, “See?”
“How the hell— I couldn’t change its colour, though?
“Change its colour? What do you mean?”
“Like this,” he snapped and changed his own outfit to a stark white colour using [Colour Control] before turning it back to black once more. “See? Even trying to stick it doesn’t work.”
Batty looked at him, eyes like saucers, “Wait… you weren’t a Physic?”
“No? I’m— ah fuck,” he smacked his own forehead. “Fucking dumbass… haah… whatever, you’re probably going to find out sooner or later anyways.”
He snapped his finger again, for theatrics as per usual, and pulled on [Impervious Pebble]. A tiny rock appeared in the air in front of him. He frowned as he saw her confused face, before realizing his particularly un-showy ability.
'She probably can’t see this,’ he rolled his eyes at his underwhelming show of 'I’m a multi-powered superhero’. “What can I even— ah.”
He pulled on [Jumper], relishing her more appropriate reaction as he suddenly flew up in the air without even so much as bending his ankles.
'Actually… [Mouthbound Catalyst] might look cooler. I could try—’
“No— you— multiple powers?” Batty’s muttering interrupted his next attempt, her eyes making him shrink back a little at their intensity, “Did they do this to you? You said you were in a pod yourself, right? Fuck, if they can do that—”
“No!” Stopped her train of thought. “These weren’t implanted, so it’s not them.”
“What is it then?
“Something else.”
She looked at him in silence for a second, “does Dox know?”
“She’s the one that gave me [Colour Control],” he shrugged.
“Gave you?” Her brows furrowed.
“Yeah. You, know, the—”
“The flasks,” she muttered.
Calvin could swear he saw a light bulb pop–up on top of her head.
Scratching her chin, she looked at him with a vague sense of judgement and understanding in her eyes, “The light from earlier. Your powers— don’t tell me…”
He could only give an awkward smile and a small shrug, “Sorry?”
“Haah…” she sighed, massaging her forehead, “better you than them.”
“My life’s motto,” he nodded.
“You’re going to be a great hero, kid,” she scoffed, “you can take powers from the flasks… are you sure it’s not something from them? An experiment or whatever?”
“I’m sure,” he said resolutely.
The Super System, as he dubbed it, was anything but mortal-made. The fact that it took the same blue-panel form as the one that brought him from Earth to this world made him fairly certain that it was a higher power that made it.
This world might be filled with supers, but he seriously doubted they could make anything like this.
“Okay…” Batty spoke, throwing him out of his reverie, “So… can you use all those powers now? Did you… absorb everything we saw earlier?”
“You’d be talking to a walking apocalypse if I even tried.”
She nodded, “So there’s a limit. Good.”
“Good?”
“Means you’re not a monster, kid.”
“…thanks?”
She scoffed, pursing her lips as her eyes glanced towards the direction they came from, “By the way, does the cape know?”
He sighed, biting his lip and nodding lightly. He’d pushed the topic to the back of his mind earlier, but he still had to deal with that snag sooner or later, “Yeah… but— maybe don’t mention it.”
“You really think I’m going to tell him?”
“I guess you’re right. I don’t know— I’m just banking on the tiny chance he gets a concussion and miraculously forgets.”
“I can help with that,” she turned the wrench back to a bat and offered it to him.
He chuckled, “I’ll tell you when then.”
“Any time,” she nodded, tossing the bat back up, “I’ll just… ignore that for now. I can’t process this in all this shit. Go back to keeping watch. I still need to find my damned watch.”
“Yeah,” he smirked, turning his attention back to becoming a sentry.
For a moment.
Undue boredom and restlessness quickly came over him now that his mind and body were at rest without need. For all of fatigue’s flaws, it would’ve at least stopped this feeling of energy pumping in his veins.
'I feel like a fucking kid having a sugar rush,’ He clicked his tongue annoyedly.
Nevertheless, he succumbed and went back to what he was doing before addressing his curiosity with the golden bat.
'I can’t use this,’ he thought, pulling the bat-wrench into his pocket.
He took out a random item instead— a chair(pink as per usual)— and held it by the leg. He felt around in his mind’s eye for [Surface Meld]’s finger-muscle feeling. It was the first thing he did back then, and it’s the first thing he does now. Albeit, with a bit more difficulty.
'Nope, that’s [Personal Debt]. And… that’s still [Personal Debt]. And this is— still the same fucking power. Goddamn, it’s confusing in here,’ he thought.
Pulling on his 'active’ powers and willing them to activate in a particular way at a moment’s thought had become more than instinctual for him. It was hard to explain, but unlike in the beginning, where they were the metaphorical 'extra finger’, they felt less like like that and more like breathing and blinking in a sense.
Although, even in their infancy, the 'finger-feeling’ was still instinctual. Like a literal finger. He knew they were there, where they were. He could feel the powers and flex them.
The three he absorbed this time, however, made him feel like he sprouted tentacles, wings, and an extra ear. In various places. In various amounts.
It took a good long minute to find it and differentiate it from [Personal Debt] and [Mouthbound Catalyst], but he immediately pulled on it as soon as he got the feeling.
As he did, he soon felt a slight vacuum between his hand and his glove, and unexpectedly, between the glove and the chair leg. He unclenched his grip, testing the meld’s strength. With only a bit of force, as much force as pulling away two unusually strong fridge magnets, he started feeling his fingers rip away from the cloth, and the cloth away from the flask.
'Feels like glue,’ he thought, remembering the times when he’d stick his own hands together as a child.
It was stronger than glue, though, as the chair was still stuck in his palm like it was meant to be there. He waved it, spun it, and swung it around.
The chair stayed. Unfortunately, by a thread.
“Weak,” he muttered, looking at the chair quite literally swinging from a bunch of the tiniest frazzled threads on his glove. He pulled it off and melded it to the top of his head. “Not that strong… but it’s also not limited to just my skin, so there’s that.”
Despite his trying to think positively about the increased utility of the power, he couldn’t help but feel some disappointment. Unless he can change his weight, or get a tinker tech that does that, wall-crawling was just a dream.
He looked at the chair in contemplation, 'Dreams are meant to be achieved.’
He pulled on the power again, sticking it back into his palm. This time, he kept pulling, trying to flex the power in a way that would strengthen it. In a sense, it felt like when he charged [Jumper], or when he coloured an entire room with [Colour Control]. There was a drain and a strain, in his spirit and his mind, but a small smile came to his face.
With his other hand, he started trying to pry the chair away. Wood creaked, but it stayed attached.
“Yes,” he whispered in elation.
Sadly, his brief lapse of concentration immediately weakened the meld back to 'normal’ levels, flinging the chair out of his palm.
“I just need to train it… or maybe evolve it. Not like I’ve evolved anything so far,” he let out another sigh.
He continued playing with the chair, sticking it to various parts of his body, sticking it against the pillar, and sticking another chair on it. He even summoned a pebble and tried to stick the two together only to find it, expectedly, impossible.
“Hmm,” he looked at the chair currently 'balancing’ on the tip of his finger.
An idea was worming its way into his head. He grabbed the chair and stuck the flat surface onto his palm. With a thought, he pulled on [Jumper] on his hand, using the chair as a 'surface’.
“Woah,” he stumbled as his hand 'jumped’ backwards.
His smile widened as he saw the chair unchanged, still clinging to his palm despite the use of the power.
“No way… I can prop surf?” He murmured as his excitement grew, the power’s usefulness suddenly skyrocketing with the promise of flight.
Excitedly, he put the chair on the ground and jumped onto it, melding his feet and shoes onto the wood.
“What are you doing?”
“Holy—”, Calvin jolted, “—can you stop doing that?”
“I thought I told you to keep an eye out?”
“I am. I was just… doing something.”
“How come every time I check up on you, you’re 'doing something’?”
He rolled his eyes and pocketed the chair from his feet before standing up and dusting himself off, “Did you get your watch?”
“Yeah,” she raised the black band up, “and maybe a couple of diseases. I need a shower…”
He chuckled, pulling out bottles of water and a towel from his pocket, “Best thing I have on hand…”
“Invest in wet wipes, kid. You’re going to need it in this line of work,” she grabbed a bottle and poured it onto the watch and her hands, “good thing I had a mask. Never thought I’d see Zip again, and so much in one place.”
Calvin tilted his head as he passed the towel to her, “Zip?”
“The white powder,” she gestured to the room, “if you ever think you have money, try looking at how much an ounce of that stuff is— if you can even find someone brave enough to sell it. Even the most loyal will rat you out if they find out you have it.”
“And that guy was just swimming in the stuff?”
“Probably an imitation. Still expensive, though.”
“Well, yeah.” He chuckled. “What makes it so bad? I mean, apart from the fact that it’s hard drugs.”
“It can suppress powers,” she spoke with complete nonchalance, “but mostly, it gets you flyin’ like a home run.”
Calvin’s eyes widened as she took the two other bottles and poured them on herself, “Suppress?”
“You want a dictionary, kid?” She chuckled, grabbing the towel and drying her hair off.
“It’s just… worded weirdly.”
“Suppress, disable, what do you want?”
“It doesn’t, like, remove it or something?”
“No, just temporarily, but it takes a lot of time and drugs before that happens.”
“And that’s why it’s banned?”
“That’s just the side-effect. The real effect, at least the real Zip, could pause hatchings.”
His brows furrowed, the gears in his over-active head grinding against each other as he processed her words.
“Pause?” He echoed.
“You sure you don't want a dictionary?”
“No, but—”
“'Isn’t that a good thing’?” She asked rhetorically, echoing Calvin’s thoughts. “It’s written all over your face, kid.”
He rolled his eyes, “there’s always a 'but’.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she nodded, “the but came in the form of a realization. A realization that the more you delay it, the more you let it fester, the more disastrous the damn thing is when it comes out.”
“Oh,” he flattened his lips.
“My reaction too when I learned it,” she nodded.
“Shouldn’t we do the same thing with this, then?”
“Nah, this stuff is probably fake. What I’m told is that the real deal got destroyed to hell and back, user, distributor, creator, mother, father— everyone that might know how to make it,” she shrugged, “still, the name stuck. And reporting anything that might be Zip gets you a good bit of credits so—” she threw a small plastic bag towards Calvin.
He caught it and raised it to his eye-height, looking at the very drug-looking drug in the drug bag, “how would I even report this? I’m not even supposed to be out of the Academy.”
“Give it to the cape,” she gestured to the stairs behind them, “when he catches up.”
“If he’s still alive,” he muttered.
“I have a feeling you don’t think you need to worry about that. He’s stronger than he lets on,” she reassured him, “anyway, we waited long enough. Whoever this guy is—”, she raised the needle Calvin gave her, “—is probably far enough in front of us. We should probably go.”
Calvin nodded, pocketing the chair and the baggie.
“Wait.” He whispered, brows curling as a soft whirring caught his attention.
Batty didn’t answer, evidently hearing the same thing.
The two of them looked around warily, focusing mainly on the wrecked beetles surrounding them.
He frowned, looking at the ceiling, “Where’s that coming from?”
“I don’t know. Let’s just hurry—” Batty’s words were cut short as Calvin pulled her with him.
The two tumbled down towards one of the prison cells, thankfully without impact as Calvin used [Jumper] while equating his passenger.
Before either could blurt out a question or a warning, a crashing sound assaulted their ears. A beetle came rolling down from above and joining them in the cell, metal, gold, and glass spilling everywhere before it stopped.
Sparks flew as the whirring that almost sounded like an old man with years of asthma intensified, the beetle stood up and started turning around like a wounded dog.
Calvin powered up [Jumper] to dash and bash the beetle but Batty was one step ahead, already swinging her bat down on the robot. She took two swings at the head of the beetle, bashing its robot brains out before wire sparking made her flinch and back off.
A small fire blazed amidst the sparks, accompanied by the complete silence of whatever engine was inside the already-damaged beetle.
Not a small reprieve was given as the sound of buzzing wings alerted the two once more.
'This place is too small,’ Calvin realized.
“We need to get out of here,” Batty said running and jumping, parkouring against the wall to get up. “Don’t—!”
Calvin was mid-jump when her warning hit his ears.
Bang.
An impact.
Like a truck hurtling to his side, the force sent white into his vision before another impact shook him back to lucidity.
“Kid!” Batty’s distant shout didn’t escape his ringing ears, but he was too disorientated to reply.
He grit his teeth, groaning as he tried getting up and getting his bearings straight, trying to unblur his sight by forcefully blinking and squinting— which didn’t actually help.
'Blood,’ he noted, tasting the iron in his mouth. 'Did I get smacked by a fucking gorilla or something?’
His eyes cleared after another few seconds, pupils quickly dilating as he saw the monstrosity that hit him.
“A scorp— is that a fucking scorpion?”
It was.
A very big scorpion.
A definitively big scorpion currently chasing Batty.
“Shit—”, he stumbled, head still spinning from the impact, '—fuck, it feels like I broke something.’
He clenched his jaw and fought through the pain and discombobulation, focusing his sight towards Batty who was trying to run away as fast as she could.
He tried aiming his finger guns, but it’s not like he had finger sights. The distance was too much for someone currently inexperienced with guns and currently experiencing the effects of a concussion.
'I can try [Personal Debt]… but what do I even borrow?’
As he was trying to think, the scorpion suddenly hopped forwards without warning and spun, trying to slam its tail towards the running baseball player.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, summoning pebbles from a distance to thwart the machine.
A loud bang rang out, the scorpion’s tail detached from the point where it impacted Calvin’s line of [Impervious Pebble]s.
He wanted to avoid using them just in case his identity leaked, but he was out of options at the moment.
Batty looked back in surprise, turning towards Calvin who gave her a thumbs up in response. She stopped and looked at the automaton which was grabbing its detached appendage, before looking towards Calvin and gesturing for him to come.
“I’m coming, I’m coming…” He sighed and looked behind him.
The wall had a Calvin-shaped crater on it— well, it didn’t, but it was close enough— and was slightly cracked. Still, a surface was a surface, and something horizontal was definitely easier to use for dashing purposes.
'Wait,’ he thought, wanting to prepare just in case.
Reaching into his pocket, he took a broken-off steel screw and put it in his mouth. He planted his foot on the wall and pulled on the power, eyes widening slightly as he felt [Mouthbound Catalyst]’s finger feeling as he pulled.
He ignored it for now and simply dashed with [Jumper], shooting off towards Batty at the speed of something maybe slower than a bullet but definitely faster than a locomotive.
Something gold moved in his peripheral, not a second after he dashed.
'Oh you fuck.’
Another impact, this time with a cloud of dust.
“Kid!” Batty shouted again.
“I’m fine,” he said, coughing.
As the cloud cleared, Calvin’s eyes widened as he saw a giant steel shield in front of him, blocking the scorpion’s double-claw smash. The screw in his mouth was gone, and a significant drain from a single use of the power made him feel tired, but the now-disappearing shield confirmed his earlier suspicion.
[Mouthbound Catalyst] worked on powers.
'[Vigilant Aegis] didn’t seem to drain as much as I expected,’ he noted the stored defence he intuitively felt from the power. 'This is game-changing.’
A shadow suddenly covered him, two claws blocking the fluorescent lights threatened to smash down on him. He didn’t even bother looking up, just summoning pebbles to block the attack.
Another one came to the side, from the tail that was supposed to be on the ground behind it.
“You can reattach that? That’s just some bull.”
He quickly summoned pebbles all around the scorpion, preventing it and all its appendages from moving.
[Personal Debt] was helpful in letting him freely summon the pebbles without getting too tired, and restoring the drained spirit from his experimental use of [Mouthbound Catalyst].
“Why do evil villain robots always look so cool?” he asked the scorpion as he pointed both fingers towards its face. “Sorry but—”
“—Fuck off!” Batty shouted, her golden bat coming from above and smacking the robo-scorpion’s many eyes.
The scorpion let out a pained scream as it tried to reel back and away from the two.
“Why are you screeching? You’re a robot!” Calvin shouted annoyedly.
“Let’s go!” Batty grabbed his arm and pulled, running towards the exit with him in tow.
Not a couple of steps later, something slammed in front of them.
Another scorpion tail.
From inside a jail cell, another one of the monstrous machines came skittering out, claws snapping and tail whipping towards them.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Calvin said, exasperated.
Batty pulled his arm again, “Just run!”
He locked it down with a couple of pebbles while they kept running away.
A few more started popping out, like cockroaches in the walls, jumping towards them with unbelievable speed.
Luckily, the pebble’s particular proclivity with pestering precipitous provocateurs proved practically propitious— [Impervious Pebble] completely tore through the speedy machine as it ran into and through the minuscule and immovable floating rock. As always.
They made it to the exit without obstacles, barring the odd scorpion or two that uniquely had means of ranged combat: namely a gatling-gun tail and double-lasergun claws. Calvin noted them with awe, up until he was nearly peppered by bullets larger than his finger.
Without resting, the two ran up the staircase without looking back.