Aria looked down at her severed arm. Or more accurately, what once composed her severed arm. Against most attacks, she could find a way to repair herself, but working with this would be impossible. She let out a faint yelp of terror, before steeling her eyes at Roswell. Roswell had begun sauntering around Aria, moving towards the exit, looking down at the various meats that once composed her as she sneered. “Looks like my recess time is almost finished. This has been fun, though.” Aria was clutching her smooth shoulder, unable to move as Roswell stared her down. “I rarely get an opportunity to use my Civ for combat.” Suddenly Aria turned and brought her left arm down towards Roswell’s face. “HEARTBREAKDOWN!” she shouted, sending out jets of that same red ink from her face at Aria’s fist. But they didn’t connect. Aria’s left fist had broken apart into fleshy cubes that were now flying at Roswell’s face. And the second they touched down, Roswell felt something extremely strange happen to her features.
Aria could see grid lines appear on Roswell’s injuries across her face, and suddenly parts of her visage had popped out of her head in the form of dozens of cubes, each one with little veins sticking out from it—almost like legs. Two of these cubic drones had Roswell’s nose. Others, her upper lip, which was bleeding profusely. Then, those cube-shaped holes in her face were suddenly replaced with cubes that belonged to Aria’s hand and vice versa. Suddenly, Roswell could feel fingers sticking out of her face, and a giant thumb where her nose should have been. And on Aria’s hand there was a nose and upper lip—positioned rather awkwardly. “You want to see Civ attacks, Roswell? Well, I can play too!”
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door to the women’s washroom, and it slowly opened. Then, they saw Thomas Finn stick his head inside. “I know I’m technically not supposed to go in here, but stuff sounded pretty heated, and I’m gay so—whoa! What the fuck happened to your hands? And faces? Is this what happens in the women’s washroom?”
“Thomas, don’t touch that!” Aria shouted, pointing with her handnose at the red liquid that had hit the door. Suddenly, Roswell charged past Thomas, knocking him out of the way and onto the ground, out of Aria’s view. “Fuck. She got away! How did you let her get away?” Aria shouted, walking towards the door. As she stepped outside, however, she didn’t see Thomas Finn sitting on the ground: she saw three Thomas Finns sitting on the ground.
* * *
User: Attorney Petty Roswell
Civ: Heartbreakdown
The user is able to secrete a red acid from their body. When this acid touches something, the user is able to break it down into its fundamental components. For example, if the user touches a wooden table with their acid then it will be turned into a tree and some iron that was used to make the screws. The user can do this with people’s body parts as well, but when the user affects a person, they can also be broken down into copies of them with each one possessing one of their fundamental personality traits. Each clone possesses only a fraction of the strength and intelligence of the person they came from, and they will often place themselves in danger due to their emotional imbalance. The user can restore everything instantaneously if they collect all of the parts.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Dominic saw Roswell walk back into the courtroom with her normally tidy and professional ponytail let loose and covering her face completely. “Why the fuck are you hiding your face?” Pepper asked, leaning over.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Roswell answered before getting up and giving more sad testimony about Pepper Morgan and her rough childhood. As if that excused murder, but the jury seemed to lack all critical thinking when it came to this matter. In truth, Dominic was hardly listening. He was too miserable himself, and then it came his turn for closing arguments as Roswell sat back down.
Dominic had all but given up on winning the case with facts. It was clear that whatever Roswell had done had turned them into individuals who were only capable of responding to sob-story emotional testimony. So sob-story emotional arguments would be what they got. Dominic stood up and walked out to the centre of the floor, his posture slumped and resigned, his hair dishevelled and miserable. His tie was loose and his clothes purposefully dirtied. His bottom lip was curled in a pout. He looked like a cross between a homeless dog and a cartoon baby, except they were being played by an adult man. “Ladies, Gentlemen, and distinguished Non-Binary members of the jury . . . I’ve had a really hard day,” Dominic whined, a single tear streaming down the side of his face as he shot a look of spite at Roswell. “Like, WEAWY hawd. I came into this case with really high hopes, and they were dashed!” Dominic made an expressive hand gesture with the word dashed. The jury didn’t seem to be buying it, though. Roswell and Pepper were struggling to maintain their cackling as Dominic humiliated himself in front of the court.
Time to crank this shit up to eleven, he thought. “Yup, my dog died today. He was only a puppy, a poor, sad, puppy missing two of his legs. A baby puppy.” Dominic put on the waterworks. “With several brain tumours.” The jury gasped. “Yup. Here’s a photo of him snuggling a baby.” Dominic projected a stock photo of a baby and puppy snuggling from his Unit. “And the baby also died today too . . .” Dominic burst into (fake) tears, ferociously sobbing and gasping for air as the jury followed along. “Yup. And they were both kicked to death . . .” Dominic turned back slightly, covering his face. “BY THAT WOMAN!” he shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Pepper Morgan.
“Objection!” Roswell shouted, her voice slightly muffled by her lack of upper lip and hair covering her face.
“Withdrawn. And that’s not at all . . . here’s a photo of two old people who have been married for one billion years.” Dominic pretended to cry tears of joy as he projected another stock image of two random old people. The jury cried tears of joy as well.
“Objection again! No one even lives that long!”
“Oh, well I’m sorry you don’t believe in love, Roswell. Does your client possess an equally barren heart and soul?” Pepper Morgan’s expression had shifted into an expression of raw anger. The guards dotting the courtroom readied heat guns and pointed them at her. The jury’s expression had changed to one of dissent as their eyes glared at Pepper Morgan. “Do you want to know what happened to these lovely old people who were so in love? They beefed it.” The image had flashed to a photo of random tombstones with a watermark still visible. “This stock photo proves it. And you know what Pepper Morgan did? Peed on ’em.”
The jury gasped, tears streaming down many of their faces.
“Objection! Dominic, what the fuck are you doing?” How did he know what I did to the jury? Is he smarter than I thought? Oh my God, I’m going to lose this case.
“Withdrawn. Now, members of the jury, I said earlier this was a case of facts. But facts don’t care about your feelings. So fuck ’em! Here’s a sad montage from the beginning of this hundred-year-old film called Up. I am placing it into evidence.”
“You can’t do this Dominic! I gave actual testimony. You just said a bunch of nonsense! JudgeBot!”
The words “It’s so beautiful” flashed on JudgeBot’s screen. Roswell had forgotten she had used her Civ on it in a similar way. Only a few moments later, the jury came to the unanimous decision of ruling against the defendant. Completely guilty. Dominic cheered in excitement, clicking the heels of his fancy shoes as he looked down at Roswell, pointing and jeering in a fashion that was ultimately childish but nonetheless warranted—at least in his opinion.
“I got you, Roswell! And you too Pepper Morgan, you murderous bastard! I win!!” Dominic cheered.
And then Roswell exploded.