Brockton Bay, March 18th, 11:49
Winslow has been strange lately.
It was never really a normal high school—gang graffiti here and there, some students fighting with knives away from the eyes of the staff, visible signs of structural neglect in several places.
But all of that was a constant, something you could expect. However, one thing changed that—or rather, someone.
Thiago Smith Johnson.
I didn't know much about him, even though he was my neighbor. We never tried to interact with each other at any point. The most interaction we had was once when my dad helped Mrs. Marianne bring some furniture into her house.
But ever since some incident he went through, he started acting differently, and for some reason, he began trying to get closer to me. He now seemed like a second Greg, but with slightly better social skills, and he appeared to really enjoy drawing.
That confused me a lot.
At the moment, I was hiding, eating lunch in the girls' bathroom on the second floor. My hiding spot hadn't been discovered by the trio yet, and I hoped it wouldn't be for a long time, though I wasn't very optimistic about that.
While I ate, I could feel every insect in the building's premises. It was a relaxing thing—feeling the small sensations near each one, forgetting my problems while I enjoyed my time alone.
But my curiosity still bothered me. Lately, I had placed some insects on Thiago. I didn't exactly know what he was trying to achieve by interacting with me and driving the trio away, but I couldn't take any risks.
The frustrating part was that I didn't find out much. During lunch, he stayed on the rooftop, somehow managing to get up there, and the rest of the time, he spent talking to other people or trying to strike up a conversation with me.
The most I managed to find were a few of his outings at night, but I didn't have the courage to follow him. I couldn't just go out in the middle of the night and risk being caught; it would be even worse if my dad noticed me sneaking out.
I could say it was tiring. Every time he went out at night, the next morning he had a tired look, but the strangest part was that he didn't physically seem exhausted. In fact, he looked more energetic than a good number of students who exercised regularly.
I didn't know what he was up to, but it definitely wasn't drugs, at least. He didn't seem… how can I put it… strange like most of the drug users that were common in Brockton Bay.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the school bell ringing; lunch break was over, and I would soon have to return to class.
I quickly put my things away and hurried out of the bathroom. I didn't have much hope of finding peace in the next class—the trio was all there, and then there was Thiago, who would probably try to strike up a conversation with me.
A tired sigh escaped my lips. At least I had a few brief moments of peace this week.
It didn't take long to reach the classroom. Mr. Gladly had already opened the room and was just waiting for the students to arrive. I didn't like him much, but today's lesson had the chance to be interesting.
He was going to start covering some topics about capes, and if I was lucky, he wouldn't assign a group project today.
I took my seat near the door and waited for the class to start, which didn't take long. The students came in, and soon the room was full, much to my joy and, at the same time, my sadness.
"Good morning, Taylor!" Thiago said with a smile as he sat in the chair next to mine.
"Good morning," I replied evasively.
"How's your day going? Done anything interesting today?"
"Well, not much." It seemed that answering briefly and evasively never worked with him; he always kept pushing and pushing for more conversation.
He would've kept going if it weren't for the teacher calling the class to attention.
"Alright, everyone! Let's get started, and something tells me a lot of you are going to find today's topic pretty cool." He said it in a way that was probably meant to sound youthful. "Today, we're going to start discussing the impact of parahumans on the world."
A murmur spread through the room quickly; everyone seemed excited to talk about the subject, and I wasn't immune to it either.
Strangely, Thiago didn't seem as enthusiastic as the rest of the class. In fact, he seemed kind of distant from everything. I had noticed this a few times—he'd stare off into space, have some odd reactions for no reason, as if he were seeing things.
"Now, before we get into it, you'll need to form groups of four members each."
I knew my luck wouldn't last that long. The other students quickly gathered into groups with their friends, none of whom involved me in any way. In the end, I ended up in a group with Greg, Sparky, and Thiago.
We quickly arranged our desks together. It wasn't the best group, especially with the new addition, but it was better than nothing.
"Hey, Taylor!" Greg greeted me.
"Hello, Greg."
"Oh, well, hello, nice to meet you, I'm Greg. Well, you already know that, right?" he says with a light laugh. "But how do you know me? I don't think we've ever talked before."
"Some friends of mine have mentioned you, but anyway, excited for this group project?"
"Of course! We're finally going to start talking about capes!" Greg's enthusiasm was almost tangible, which wasn't too surprising since he was a total cape geek.
Those words sparked a long conversation about heroes, villains, cape themes, heroic actions, the difference between villains and heroes, and much more. It was like opening Pandora's box.
"Alright, everyone!" Gladly called the students' attention. "Now that all the groups are formed, your task is simple: you must choose one of the following themes, discuss it among yourselves, and then present a report on the chosen theme to the class." He said while writing a few topics on the board.
It seemed like an interesting group project, if only I had a slightly better group. The topics were quickly chosen by the other groups, and in the end, we were left with the theme of Villainy.
"It's not a bad topic; there are a lot of villains around the world," Thiago pointed out confidently.
"Yeah, but which one do we choose? Or should we talk about villains in general?" Greg added.
"Maybe... talk about villainy in general?" Sparky suggested, joining the discussion for the first time.
"Yes, there are a lot of villains, focusing on just one would be too limiting. What do you think, Taylor?"
"Well, talking about villains in general seems like the best idea," I responded, finally getting a chance to give my opinion.
"Alright, we've got a plan. But one question, who's going to present the report?" Thiago asked, a slight hint of anxiety in his voice.
Silence fell over our table for a few seconds; no one seemed eager to give the presentation.
"Ugh, okay, I'll present it," Thiago said, discomfort visible on his face.
With everything decided, we began writing our report, and it was going quite well. Thiago brought up many points about villainy, some I had never even thought about before.
(To think I could have had such a big chance to become a villain.) A chill ran down my spine, and I quickly pushed those thoughts away. I was going to be a hero—the best I could be.
After spending a lot of time working on it, our report was finally finished. Everything seemed to be going well, until Madison walked past our table. I had been so engrossed in our work that somehow, I hadn't noticed her approach.
"Oops!"
She said, pretending to stumble toward our table. She had a water bottle in her hand, which she "accidentally" spilled all over what had been a very well-done report—and all over me too. I could barely hold myself together in that moment; all I could do was glare at her angrily.
"Sorry, Taylor, I tripped by accident," she said with fake remorse.
It would've been so easy to unleash all the anger I was feeling right then. With a single command, I could make her—and the whole trio—pay, right here and now. I knew this wasn't just her idea; they were probably mocking me at that very moment, and I could end it all so easily.
"Don't worry, Madison, nothing happened," Thiago replied with a smile, and unbelievably, the sheet of paper I'd been writing on was in his hand, completely dry. "But maybe you should get a towel from one of the janitors—it might help a bit."
I couldn't believe it. But how? How did he do that? I was sure the report had been with me all this time, so how was it in his hands and completely dry? From Madison's face and the other members at our table, they were surprised too.
"Is everything alright?" the teacher approached our tables. "Whoa, what a mess! Well, at least everyone is okay. Taylor, could you go to the office and see if there's some extra clothing you can wear?"
I just nodded, stood up, and walked out of the classroom. How did that happen? How did he do that? So many questions and no answers; it was frustrating.
The walk to the office wasn't in vain; I managed to find a black jacket that fit me. It was a bit larger than my size, but I had no complaints.
I was starting to suspect a few things. Maybe it was paranoia, maybe he had just been quick, and I hadn't noticed, but I began to think that perhaps Thiago Smith Johnson was a parahuman like me.
Reactions out of nowhere, distant stares into nothing, nighttime outings, and now this. Maybe... maybe that incident he mentioned was his trigger event? I had researched this before; people say that's when capes get their powers.
Or he might have already had powers before that and was hiding them, but who would he be? I should look into this later, especially since the last class was computer science.
With a bit of luck, when I entered the room, I arrived just in time for Mr. Gladly to ask our group to present our report.
Thiago stood up and walked to the front of the board, anxiety visible in his whole body. For a brief moment, I noticed his eyes focusing on nothing before he began reading our text.
(Here we go again; there's something about this that doesn't sit right with me.)
I sat back in the chair I had been in while watching the presentation. It wasn't bad, but he stuttered a few times, and his delivery seemed a bit forced.
In the end, our report was the best in the class, which made me happy that it hadn't been ruined by the trio. Mr. Gladly decided not to assign us homework today, giving me more free time.
Computer science class finally arrived, so I would have some time to test this theory that Thiago might have powers and see if any of the capes in the city resembled him.
Ms. Knott had assigned a task that was easy for me to finish today, so I had a good amount of time to think. I couldn't just go and search for which parahuman he might be.
That first time he talked to me made me much more curious about the parahuman community. I didn't have a deep understanding of this community I was a part of, but some research had led me to some pretty important points.
One of them was the unwritten rules. I had heard about them before but hadn't delved deeply into their meaning. I could and couldn't, at the same time, research capes to try to figure out which one he might be.
In the end, I had several questions in mind—many more than before—but one stood out in particular.
(If he has powers, what will he choose to be with them?)
Brockton Bay, March 18th, 17:49
(I'm definitely not going to be a hero.)
Or rather, I probably wouldn't be the typical hero, but an anti-hero. Yes, I would help someone if they needed it, but I would easily steal from places to obtain resources or join villains if I had a plausible reason or a common enemy, except for the empire, of course.
And that's why I decided to come up with a plan to help me get resources and money, which I'll definitely need right now. And what's the plan? Well, create a second cape persona to divert attention from my identity as Toymaker.
I had to be very careful about myself as Toymaker since he's an unaffiliated Tinker. I don't remember if it was true that any of the gangs could force me to work for them, but it'll be easier to simply avoid that and put the spotlight on another cape, even if it's still me, just in a different costume.
There was also another issue at the moment: if I was going to put myself in the spotlight with a different costume, I had to do it in a way that drew attention—a lot of attention. And if I did that, I had to be prepared in case I attracted the attention of someone dangerous.
So, in the midst of all this, I started another preparation. Copying Taylor completely, I began running to exercise, specifically at night, while also exploring the city and trying to learn paths and how to navigate. During all of this, I got a very useful mission related to another plan of mine.
[The 5 Colors of Brockton Bay]
It's a work of art.
Description: Brockton Bay is a very gray city with so little color. Someone needs to bring a bit more life and art to this place, and you're the right person for the job. Your goal is to create an art piece, something visible, in the territory of each of the city's gangs, and also in the PRT's territory, even though they technically aren't a gang.
Empire 88 Territory: 0/1
ABB Territory: 0/1
Merchants Territory: 0/1
Coil Territory: 0/1
PRT Territory: 0/1
Reward: 1000 Exp, 800 CP.
Time Limit: 30 days, 7 hours, 28 minutes.
This was interesting, a month to basically create art in specific locations. I'll probably leave the E88 and Coil territories for last. ABB probably wouldn't come after me for making a drawing that criticizes them non-verbally, probably.
The Merchants wouldn't be able to do much against me. Their gang is mostly made up of people hooked on drugs. It's very likely that I could escape them if I made a really bad mistake, but it would be better if I had some contingencies in place.
The PRT probably won't do much against me, well, other than possibly arresting me for property damage. Painting randomly in a place without permission is probably illegal.
And in the end, Coil would likely try to force me to work for him or just make me an offer, but I don't know much about him. That bastard is a problem I'll have to deal with later when I have more resources.
Shaking my head, I go back to working on what I was doing. In the meantime, during the week, I managed to earn some small amounts of CP by dealing with petty robberies here and there. It was relatively easy when I could just sneak up behind people and knock them out, though I almost got stabbed by one of them, so I'll try to avoid too much trouble for a while.
I don't know if I've already built a reputation as Toymaker or something like that—probably not—since all I've been doing is beating up criminals, suggesting they call the police, and then leaving the scene. But the most important part wasn't these endeavors. Well, they were important, helping people avoid being robbed or worse, but that's not the main point.
The most important things were some skills I created, some relatively useful items I found, and the skill I bought with all the CP I gathered.
Puppetry (Puppeteer) (Active) Lv. 12 (Exp: 37%) (MP: 35)
Poor children, their souls trapped in wooden puppets.
Description: With a singular touch of magic and creativity, you can create all kinds of servants made from crazy junk, strange fabrics, and many other types of materials.
Yes, it seems like a so-so skill when I stopped to read it, but do you know what's interesting about it? This skill basically imitates what brings to life a series of enemies from the game Puppeteer, like the Weavers, which were massive creatures made from fabric bodies and a central core, and the Grubs, which were numerous little creatures made of string and equipped with sharp claws.
Sure, there's a pretty big cost for creating Grubs and Weavers, but it's really useful in the long run. And with that in mind, I was now in my basement, sewing for quite a while the future bodies of my first Weavers.
"ATCHOOOOO!" Yep, dust is still a big problem down here.
But back to what matters: what's the downside that makes this skill so cheap, costing only 1000 CP? (Yes, I just ran all over Brockton Bay stopping robberies left and right to gather all of that.) Simple: Weavers and Grubs have cores as fragile as paper, and these cores can easily be exposed by hitting specific spots with enough damage.
This makes them expensive because they require quality materials to become more resistant and are easily defeated when facing specific enemies.
For example, a Weaver made purely of fabric or with a wooden main body would be completely torn apart by Hookwolf, and a Weaver made of plastic would be easily defeated by anyone, which makes creating them a matter of resources.
This makes them both very useful because they can be made out of basically anything, but at the same time flawed because their cores are easily exposed and destroyed.
I let out a sigh as I stop sewing and look at my work. For the past two days, I've been sewing like crazy. My goal was to create two decent-quality Weavers for the first step of my plan, which I have kindly named the Two-Face Plan.
So far, it hasn't been bad, especially after I unlocked a skill called [Tailoring], which has been quite useful.
Tailoring (Passive) Lv. 9 (Exp: 48%)
It's called fashion, look it up.
Description: Making clothes is always a good artistic choice, but the main point is always their quality (creations involving fabric or thread have 9% higher overall quality).
Along with them, I've been working on my first costume, and I thank whatever higher power that heard my prayers because I managed to find a bunch of my mom's old clothes that will help me a lot.
[Spike Collar (Gothic Style) (Punk Madness)]
It's not just a phase, moooom!
Description: A collar, or rather, a black choker with spikes made of real silver, sharp in appearance.
+1 CHA
+1 CON
Gives +2 CHA more when completing the [Gothic Style] set or +2 STR when completing the [Punk Madness] set.
Durability: 86/100
[Furry Coat]
Description: A black coat with so much fur that it would make even a bear jealous, but we can't deny that it's quite stylish.
+1 CHA
Grants [Cold Resistance] Lv. 2 while worn.
Durability: 90/100
[High Platform Boots (Gothic Style)]
Description: A pair of high platform black boots. They are very well made, durable, and look quite well-preserved.
+2 CHA
+1 CON
Durability: 98/100
[Fingerless Black Gloves (Gothic Style)]
Description: A pair of black fingerless gloves, with silver details on the knuckles.
+1 CHA
Gives +2 more CHA when completing the [Gothic Style] set.
Durability: 98/100
Yes, I'll look like a goth trying to be a hero while wearing this, but at least I'll have a nice outfit to wear during my incursion with this persona. I even named it after the antagonist from Puppeteer, Bear King. No one will understand, but what matters is that I do.
The bodies of the Weavers would be made from several of my old clothes, inside other clothes that would essentially act as skin. I placed some heavy objects inside gloves that would serve as their hands, and a bundle of clothes where the head would be. The difference between the Weavers would be their utility: one of them has a lot more clothes stuffed inside, as I hoped this would function like muscle or provide extra durability, while the other would have longer arms made from torn sleeves sewn together with small stones, nails, and other items in its hands, and a tail made from three garden hoses tied together.
Basically, one Weaver would be there to protect me and act as brute force, and the other would have greater reach to deal with enemies from a longer range.
"With all this in mind, I'd have a decent chance of handling some parahumans in this crazy city." Talking to myself is calming for me; I don't have many people to discuss certain things with, so it's a good way to vent. "Especially with the progress I've made and a skill to handle long-range enemies."
I gained some points in most of my stats during this time, whether from studying, training, or talking to people—except in that damn Luck stat, which just refuses to improve no matter what I do. At least I managed to balance out my physical stats a little and improve my mental stats, gaining around 2 to 4 points in each (and I have to say, it's exhausting to do).
But that probably doesn't compensate for a specific problem I discovered on Tuesday.
Ugh, it was when I woke up that day that I noticed something quite surprising in my system overall. Opening my menu, I went to the settings tab and saw the new addition to it.
[Changelog]
Yep, my system has updates and changes. I shouldn't have expected anything less since I'm a beta tester and all, but it was still a bit unusual for me—and it was especially recent. Particularly when I opened it.
[Dear Host]
It seems the first set of changes from our bug-fixing and update team has finally arrived, especially now that you've obtained a new title, which allowed us to add a little something more to your system and correct certain numbers and descriptions that were quite confusing or incorrect. We appreciate your attention and hope you have a great life!
1.1 Version changes
Bug fixes.
Description adjustments.
Number corrections.
Price adjustments.
A new implementation in the system.
Look, this was both a good and a bad thing, if you ask me. Good because some positive changes were made to my stats, fixing errors I hadn't noticed, and adjusting the prices of certain items in the store. But bad because there were such obvious errors in my stats.
Spoiler: Stats
The titles section was a nice addition; all that's left is the jobs section. But pointing out something more important, nothing against the beings who manage the system, but these errors in my stats could very well have cost me my life in the meantime!
This was something that particularly upset me at the moment, but there wasn't much I could do about it, so all I could do was be irritated alone.
I let out a slight sigh as I get up from the chair and slowly ascend the basement stairs. It's better to think about this another time; at least it hasn't caused me too many problems yet. The main issue is where I should allocate my stat points, but I'll think about that later.
When I reach the living room, I notice my grandmother again watching television. I approach the couch and sit down beside her while also looking at the TV.
"Any good news, Grandma?"
"Eh, none, unless you think it's great that the heroes lost to another group of villains." She replies while yawning.
"A group of villains? Which one?" A group of villains... as far as I remember, there's no conflict against villains mentioned in the timeline for the date we're in now.
"Some group with a weird name; I didn't pay much attention, but I know they fought that hero with a wizard theme and another one with a big sword."
Oh, it was probably just Palanquim fighting Myrddin and Chevalier. It's good to know that things are still going according to the canon timeline. I just hope I can change it before the story begins.
"I see. But, Grandma, how's your day going?"
"A mess. One of my rose bushes woke up dead today, and your mother said she'll be late from work." She responds with annoyance, her brow furrowed as she focuses on the television.
(Yeah, my mom's job. I never really stopped to think about what she does. If I ask her now, will it seem strange?)
"Grandma… can I ask you a tiny little thing?" A hint of anxiety colors my voice.
"Spit it out, kid; if you don't, you're going to choke." She says with a slight laugh.
"Hahaha… Yeah… Well… What does Mom do for work?"
She looks at me strangely, as if a second head had grown.
"How do you… Oh…" She falls silent for a few seconds, seemingly remembering something before coughing lightly. "Well… Your mother works at the PRT, kid."
…
There goes the idea of telling either of them that I have powers, down the drain.
"Kid? Are you okay? You suddenly turned pale." She asks, placing her hand on my forehead.
"I think my stomach just turned; I must have eaten something bad." I respond as I slowly get up. "I think I'll run to the bathroom real quick."
"If it's nausea, there's medicine for that in the pantry, you know." She says with concern.
"Thanks, Grandma."
I quickly climb the stairs to the second floor and enter the bathroom, closing the door behind me. My hands rush to the sink, where I lean against it.
"Crap… how on earth did my luck get this bad?"
My mom works for the PRT, okay, I now have to be much more careful when leaving the house, especially if she hasn't discovered anything yet and is just waiting for me to say something or for someone who looks like me to show up as a cape.
(The problem is knowing what she does for a living, but if I go downstairs and ask my grandma, it'll seem strange.)
I take a deep breath and splash some water on my face to try to cool my head. I leave the bathroom and head to my room; I've already planned so much, and I can't let it all go to waste now.
I need to think about this later. Yes, I know, putting everything off is just procrastinating and piling up a lot of problems for me to deal with in the future, but there are already so many things I need to think about and organize that it makes everything very difficult to handle at the moment.
I step out of the bathroom and slowly walk to my room. I have to keep working on some plans and continue sewing my minions and my costume; yes, I enjoy planning, especially this current plan.
What did I plan? That's a good question, voices in my head. My plan is pretty simple, if I may say so. I created a little something very useful that would help me spy on places where gangs might be active.
I enter my room and head to my computer, sitting in the chair in front of it and turning it on.
This little thing is a small network of tiny spies capable of communicating with each other and going unnoticed thanks to their small sizes and dark colors.
Feeling something bumping against my foot, I look down and smile slightly. Next to my foot is a tiny creature made of black wool yarn, with small claws made of rusty iron and a button for a face with a small blue orb in one of the button holes.
Exactly, I created a line of espionage based on Grubs. Since they are little creatures made of fabric and very simple, they can come in many sizes, and thanks to that factor, I was able to create several of them, both to level up my new skill and to create a network of little spies.
"It took a while." I say as I bend down to pick up the little Grub and place it on my desk. "So, is what I thought true?"
The little creature nods enthusiastically.
"Is she home now?"
It shakes its head negatively.
"That's strange; she probably went to the library or something."
I slowly lean back in my chair, deep in thought.
One of the first things I used this little espionage network for was to counter-spy on my neighbor. Yes, I know that Taylor put bugs on me to keep an eye on me; I analyzed her multiple times this week (which earned me an extra level, adding more detail to the information and even small assumptions) and easily figured that out.
So, with all that information in mind, I decided to counterattack. I've been using my Grubs to take a look inside the Hebert house; it's not very useful since the Grubs are small and take a bit to move, and I also used some at school to see which paths she takes to avoid me.
I also took the opportunity to use them on the trio as well; maybe here and there some things happened, but it's not my fault that Sophia's shoelace broke on its own during her training or that some of Emma and Madison's homework turned into shredded paper and their backpacks ended up with holes.
I chuckle lightly; doing this has made my week.
But the main problem was the lack of communication I had with the Grubs. All I needed to do was ask them yes or no questions, so that compensated for some issues.
"On the bright side, at least I have counter-espionage. On the downside, I feel like a weird stalker doing this at her house…" (Even though she was probably doing the same at mine…)
Sighing, I take the little Grub and carry it to the window.
"Tell the others to keep an eye out for any suspicious movements during this time and to let me know if they see anything strange inside the house or around the city."
I place it on the window sill, and the little creature slowly climbs down the outside wall.
"Well, now it's purely preparation and waiting for everything good to happen; I have exactly two days until my villainous persona debuts, so I'd better start training tonight."
Calmly, I walk to the door and lock it, then head to my bed and pull out the future fabric bodies of the Weavers from my inventory, along with my costume and the items I'll need to finish the Weavers' bodies and my costume.
(Brockton Bay will hardly notice what hit it.)
Spoiler: Stats
Well, I can say that from now on, some things will start to move forward.
And yes, I used status errors as a hook to present system updates, it definitely wasn't my ADHD and the fact that I'm completely clueless in math.
*Author's plotting sounds*
Brockton Bay, March 18, 23:52
It was already night, and my mom and grandmother had gone to bed some time ago, so I had time to put my plan into action. I just hoped I'd be lucky in this crazy venture I had set up for myself.
I slowly opened my bedroom door and glanced down the hallway, seeing nothing but darkness and hearing only silence. I walked carefully down to the first floor of the house.
The first thing I was going to do was put a Grub in my mom's bag, but this Grub would be different from the others. It would be purely made of thread and nothing metallic, allowing it to pass as a simple gift from a son to his mother, avoiding any metal detectors the PRT headquarters might have.
Opening my inventory, I took out a pen and a post-it note I had saved, and I wrote the following: "A gift for you, Mom :-D" and placed it on the table.
Next, I pulled out a small bundle of thread about 5 centimeters tall and a button, then I cast [Puppetry] on the button and the thread.
Slowly, the thread began to twist erratically as a small blue sphere formed inside it. The thread then started to take on a humanoid shape, the blue sphere becoming its head. The button floated over to the head, and part of the thread tied it to the humanoid form, a small blue glow appearing in one of the button's holes.
The tiny creature looked around curiously before focusing on me.
"Your job is to keep an eye on things at my mom's work. Try to pretend you're just a lifeless thread doll and don't leave her bag." I said firmly. "For now, you'll stay next to this paper until my mom comes to get you. If she doesn't, stay still until I come back."
The little creature nodded positively and then hurried to lie down next to the post-it.
(Okay, first step of the night complete.) I sighed in relief.
The second step was a bit more challenging but not impossible. With everything in mind, I carefully walked to the front door and opened it, sticking my head outside to look around the neighborhood street.
All the houses had their lights off and doors and windows closed, which was good. I just needed to wait a little now.
After waiting a minute or two, I saw a small Grub struggling to climb the last step of the porch and quickly walking over to my foot. I bent down near it and picked it up.
"Awake?"
It nodded.
(Damn it, Taylor, couldn't you give me one night without watching me?)
That was a problem; she probably knew I was about to leave the house now, and if news came out that a parahuman acted tonight, she'd definitely know it was me.
Well, there wasn't much I could do now. I didn't have a magical way to make her stop watching me, and I had to test my Weaver's capabilities tonight... Well, technically it didn't have to be tonight, but my anxiety wouldn't let me rest unless I tried them out, and I already had the perfect target.
Determined, I pulled out a notebook from my inventory and began to follow the instructions written in it. I didn't have the money to buy a map of Brockton Bay, and I didn't want to keep asking my mom all the time; it left a bad taste in my mouth.
But back to the point, my main goal tonight was to hit a possible drug factory run by the Merchants. My Grubs had stumbled upon this place somewhat randomly, probably because I had left them in the most dangerous and inhospitable parts of the city, but it was still a gain.
As far as I remembered, the Merchants during this period didn't have a specific territory; instead, they took advantage of areas of the city that no one wanted, which probably made it easy to find other bases of theirs, since all I needed to do was search these unwanted areas.
Walking down a winding and dark alley, I noticed the changes around me the further I walked. The area I had been in before wasn't the best in the world, but it was at least somewhat maintained. However, the place I was in now was the complete opposite—graffiti, trash thrown in various corners, vegetation growing in some spots, and smells I wouldn't even want to describe.
Stopping near a corner, I discreetly took a look around the alley corner. There, I saw something resembling an old building, with two guards holding large weapons standing in front of a big, dirty, rusty double door.
Okay, it was showtime. I quickly opened my inventory and looked at my costume. As I equipped it, I took a moment to admire how the combination of each piece created something that felt harmonious in a way—mixing black with gray and some white and silver details. But the most important part was the piece I had worked hardest on: the mask.
I took it off my face and examined it. What had once been a plain white mask was now adorned with a design of a smile with sharp black teeth, the eye holes shaped like a first quarter moon, and a yellow crescent moon painted on the forehead.
[Moon Bear Mask]
Description: A mask crafted with great effort and dedication, featuring an evil face with a crescent moon emblazoned on the front.
+1 CHA
In that moment, I barely registered that I had created an item that boosted my stats, but soon I could hardly contain my joy. It felt so good to see a job well done and full of care being rewarded, even if the amount wouldn't seem significant in the future.
Smiling, I put the mask on my face and opened my [Status].
Spoiler: Stats
It was time to allocate those points somewhere, and what better moment than now? With a few quick taps, shifting points here and there, I finally pressed confirm.
Spoiler: Stats, +3 INT, +3 WIS, +3 CHA
You know, even when I put points into intelligence, I didn't feel much change. It was probably because it was something mental; it wouldn't be like strength that improved my body.
(Points allocated, costume on, just one thing left to do.)
Closing the [Status] and opening the [Inventory], I quickly took out the bodies of my Weavers and laid them side by side in the alley. All I had to do now was cast [Puppetry] and hope it wouldn't create too much of a light show.
With all that in mind, I cast [Puppetry] on the two fabric bodies.
MP: 470/540 (+46 MP per minute)
Slowly, the bodies of the Weavers began to contort erratically, several small blue lights appearing among all that twisting fabric as they started to float in the air. The lights traveled along their bodies until they stopped where the head would be and remained there, slowly the fabric seemed to expand until it reached its limit, almost bursting, and then stopped.
The two Weavers stood up in all their fabric glory and seemed to focus on me.
"At least there wasn't any unnecessary shine."
The two creatures looked different from one another. The first Weaver appeared larger and more robust, a small blue glow remaining in a crevice of its fabric head completely focused on me. The second Weaver wasn't as robust, but it was still big. What stood out were its long arms, even when they looked completely folded. As far as I remembered, I made them about 10 meters long (yes, I used a lot of fabric to make the two of them; it's very likely my mom or grandma will notice the disappearance). The light on this Weaver's face seemed more scattered, glancing around from time to time.
(Weavers ready, costume ready, I'm ready… But why the hell do I still feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest?)
I wasn't exactly sure if I was ready for this. They had weapons and were a gang, while I was just a kid who had awakened powers a few days ago and had some fabric creatures as helpers. I felt like I wasn't ready yet, but here I was. What could I do?
(Maybe come up with a plan? Yes, that would be good.) I thought anxiously. (Okay, they have two guys with guns in front, I don't know how many are inside, but since it's very late, it's likely there are only guards.)
Urgent mission acquired!
[Break-in at 24]
Say no to drugs, kids
Description: You planned to attack a location run by the Merchants and are about to initiate this attack. With this mission, your goal is to emerge triumphant from this assault.
Reward: 1800 Exp, 1000 CP, 1 Perk Point.
Failure: Severe injury and possible death.
I quickly dismissed the mission pop-up. I knew the danger of this and didn't have much time to marvel at receiving more Exp or CP.
With that in mind, I took a look around the corner and cast [Analyze] on the two men.
[Merchant Henchman] Lv 13 (HP:180) (MP:80)
Bored, probably wanted to be doing something else?
Distracted, looks tired.
Armed, holding the gun awkwardly.
Talking with another henchman.
[Merchant Henchman] Lv 11 (HP:160) (MP:80)
Distracted, acting strangely.
Armed, holding the gun with difficulty.
Irritated with the other henchman.
MP: 460/540 (+46 MP per minute)
"I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I'd bet one of them is high, and it's not the first thug. That's good for me; it'll be easier to take them down thanks to this carelessness. Actually, both seem pretty reckless about protecting this place, which worried me a bit. I take a deep breath and glance at the Weavers. The first step is to get in, and I have an idea how.
"First off, you're gonna be Weaver Destroyer, and you're Weaver Catcher," I say, nodding to the sturdier and smaller Weavers, respectively. "Catcher, grab both and pull; Destroyer, hit hard and take down, on my signal." They nod.
I manage to catch some words from the two guards, seemingly arguing, but that doesn't matter; I have a plan and a desire to excel. With decisive, quick movements, I signal the Weavers to move while I step out from the alley corner.
"[Mana Bullet], [Mana Bullet], [Mana Bullet], [Mana Bullet]!" I whisper repeatedly; it wasn't necessary, but felt right.
My aim was poor, and since I didn't focus well when firing [Mana Bullet], the results were mediocre. Two blue orbs hit the first guard directly in the chest.
"DAMN!" he shouts, seeming slightly winded.
"Huh?" The second guard, probably high, reacts slowly.
"CA-" He tries to shout while raising his gun toward me.
Quickly, Catcher's arm strikes the man's face with force; I hear a faint, wet crack.
"FU-" The second guard barely speaks before being hit.
Before I realize it, both guards are dragged toward us rapidly. (Whoa, I didn't think Catcher's arms could move that fast.) Destroyer already looms over the captured thugs.
CRACK!
"ARGH!" I barely register the sound of something breaking.
"STOP! STOP!" I desperately shout.
He halts his next move before hitting the other thug.
I barely grasped the Weavers' full strength and certainly didn't expect such brutality and lethal potential so quickly. But what was I thinking? They were literally creatures made to kill for a megalomaniac giant teddy bear.
(Damn, what now? I have one thug with broken bones and another trying to escape.) I observe the thugs, one grunting in pain, muffled by Catcher's hand, and the other failing to escape the other Weaver's grasp.
(Damn it, I'll just carry them.) I anxiously glance at the building.
"Destroyer, carry these two; be gentle with the first. Catcher, stay close."
With a nod, Destroyer holds both thugs under his arms. I carefully open the creaking door and discreetly scan the interior, noticing no movement.
(Either there are few people here or they're too high to hear, but better for me.) I step inside, followed closely by the Weavers.
The interior's worse than the exterior; some windows are broken and covered with worn wooden boards. Mold and peeling paint are everywhere.
"Okay, if this is a drug den, there's a chance they have decent chemicals for me to work with." I whisper.
The place has space: stairs on the right lead to the second floor, and on the first floor, there's a door on the left and a corridor beside it.
"Alright, ground to cover; the place seems silent, so I still have the element of surprise if there are more people here."
I nod to myself and slowly approach the door, pushing it gently and peeking inside. It's not much, a simple bathroom, but the horrible stench makes me recoil. "Damn... Where's basic hygiene in this dump?" I whisper, disgusted, moving away from the door and into the corridor.
The corridor isn't long, but has several doors on either side. Inside, I find large quantities of various drugs: marijuana, cocaine, crack, and others I don't recognize. "I told you to go, damn it!" I hear whispers at the corridor's end.
Cautiously approaching, I press against the wall and listen. "And I told you those idiots are probably just high on drugs, man." A shrill voice says. "You know how those two assholes slack off during their shift."
"I get it, dude, but what if the boss shows up and those two are completely wasted, doing nothing? Who'll take the fall? Just those two morons or us too?"A raspy voice responds.
"Hmph, fine, I'll go, but if those idiots have left that dump, I'll beat the crap out of them."
Footsteps approach, and I react quickly, generating a fist using [Mana Shaping] and unleashing [Power Strike].
MP: 516/540 (+46 MP per minute)
"Gugh-" The person made a sound that was a mix between a cough and a choke as my fist hit something hard in their chest area, probably a gun. "Catcher grab!"
The man who received the punch stumbled slightly around the room as he dropped his gun to the floor. At the same time, the other person in the room, whom I had barely managed to glance at, dove behind a counter in the middle of the room, with various chemistry-related objects scattered across it, before Catcher could grab her.
"SHIT, THERE'S A CAPE DOWN HERE, DAMN IT! WHERE ARE YOU BUNCH OF SHIT-EATING COWARDS?!"
This is chaotic, but useful; I hear rushed footsteps and curses from the previous room. This is bad; I'm trapped, and they'll block my exit soon.
(Damn, how did everything go to hell so fast? Those damned thugs and their ridiculously high numbers, I just hope I don't get shot today.)
I could barely breathe for a few seconds before a bullet hit my left arm.
-38
"FUCK!" I quickly dove to the side and pressed against the wall, bullets flying through the room entrance and hitting the wall.
You are suffering from the [Bleeding] debuff, you will lose -5 HP every 10 seconds for 2 minutes.
"Show your face, you boot-licking son of a bitch!"
Everything seemed so fucked up that I couldn't believe it, I'd taken a bullet and was bleeding out, had 4 hostages since it seemed Destroyer had grabbed the person who had jumped behind the counter, a disheveled black-haired woman wearing a dirty green top and baggy beige pants, and had also dragged the man I'd punched to the corner of the room, and worst of all, I was still cornered - overall, I was completely fucked and battered from head to toe.
(What kind of shitty night did I get myself into?)
Who would have thought that creatures created by a megalomaniacal tyrant, intended to serve basically as enforcers, could be so dangerous and lethal?
And once again, I feel like the quality of this chapter dropped a bit—probably imposter syndrome—but I hope you all enjoy it.
By the way, I'd like to thank drvash for some very cool and creative ideas he shared. He helped me keep a more open mind about possible things Thiago could do in the future.
Note: I changed the DEX Status conversation because I just realized how silly a conversion to m/s was, so now it's in km/h if you check the first chapter.
Brockton Bay, March 19, 01:34
You know, sometimes it takes a bullet in the arm, hostages, and a shootout in an enclosed space to realize that your life has taken a truly bad—or truly insane—turn, generally speaking.
Several bullets hit the wall across the hallway. Panic quickly began to rise in me. I needed to think of something fast, preferably without ending up full of holes.
I looked around, searching for anything useful. By the looks of it, I was in the main area of this place, where the drugs were manufactured, which meant there were chemicals and other handy items ready to use.
I quickly opened the shelves and drawers, grabbing and shoving every bottle I could find directly into my inventory, completely ignoring the pain in my wounded arm.
"Hey! Those are my things!"
"Shut up! I'll make better use of them anyway."
I ignored the string of curses she yelled at me as I examined some of the items I'd stashed in [Inventory]. Slowly, I recalled some chemical mixtures I'd researched and studied before, and possible ideas began forming quickly in my mind.
"Alright, let's go with the Bakuda method, then."
I couldn't just start launching bombs; I might bring down the entire warehouse due to its current poor condition. I didn't know if that was actually possible with what I had, but it was always best to avoid the risk.
"Catcher, keep those thugs from getting in, but try not to get shot."
With a nod, Catcher positioned himself near the hallway entrance, using his arms to keep the Merchants' thugs from entering.
(Alright, now it's either explosives or something else.)
I could use toxic smoke. This is a drug lab—there's bound to be a respirator around here somewhere. That would save me from having to fight directly and from taking more hits than necessary.
But I needed a way to get this close to the thugs. I couldn't just mix everything here and throw it over; any chemical reaction could go off instantly and backfire. But how was I going to pull that off?
(Maybe…)
I hadn't really thought much about this idea. Using [Mana Shaping] to create some kind of disposable mechanism always seemed complicated and too resource-intensive to be practical. But when better to try it out than now?
Moving slowly and carefully to avoid the pain in my arm, I grabbed two bottles from my inventory. I had no idea how I was going to mix these two substances properly, so I'd have to rely entirely on luck and hope for the best. Placing both bottles on the counter—specifically hydrochloric acid and ammonia—I formed a 10-centimeter-wide sphere in my hand with an opening at the top.
MP: 526/540 (+46 MP per minute)
Setting the sphere in a stand where one of the bottles had been, I took both bottles and carefully poured them into the sphere, white smoke already starting to form slowly. With the contents in, I quickly used [Mana Shaping] to seal the sphere's opening and grabbed it without delay.
[Chemistry] has leveled up!
I ignored the pop-up; all it gave me was a vague sense of optimism.
(Here goes nothing.)
I quickly approached the hallway entrance, leaning against the wall next to it. Catcher already had several bullet holes in his fabric arms and a few in his body. I'd have to patch him up later, but that was a worry for another time.
I took a deep breath and quickly threw the sphere down the hallway. I didn't stick around to see exactly where it landed before dropping to the ground again to avoid the bullets, but if I'd calculated it right, it would hit a little past the hallway on the floor.
"What the hell?" one of the thugs yelled while shooting.
"Screw it, man. Didn't hit anyone anyway!"
I quickly moved away from the hallway and started making more spheres. In total, I managed to create three more. I could already see a thin white smoke drifting into the hallway. It was best not to breathe it in, given its toxicity, which was evident from the coughing sounds coming from the hall.
MP: 428/540 (+46 MP per minute)
"What the fuck is this?" one of the thugs said amidst coughs.
"I don't-" Another thug was interrupted by a coughing fit. "Know damn it!"
"Let's get the hell outta here!"
"Damn! My eyes! This shit burns!"
Rapid footsteps could be heard as the gunfire seemed to cease.
Well, it was working. By my guess, they were dealing with irritation in their throats and eyes, and possibly nausea from the toxicity. The problem was that if I wanted to get through, I'd have to either breathe in the smoke or run blindly through it. But all that mattered was that the exit was secure, and I had useful chemicals.
Looking around the room, I could see some useful machines here and there. But unless I could rip them out of the ground and carry them with me, there wasn't much I could do. It was a shame, but I'd have other chances later.
I could call the PRT or the police now and all that, but I figured it was best to just get out of here as fast as possible.
You lost the [Bleeding] debuff.
I quickly checked my [Status] and shuddered slightly.
HP: 234/290 (+14 HP per minute)
Fifty six HP in this whole mess, just five or six more bullets and [Bleeding], and I was practically dead. Worse if the [Bleeding] could stack.
A heavy feeling settled in my stomach. Death had been so close the entire time, and I barely noticed because I was so focused on just surviving.
I buried those thoughts deep in my mind and focused on the present. I needed to get out of here and survive. Given how things had gone down, those guys had probably already called Skidmark and the others by now, so I probably needed to get out fast.
"Destroyer, Catcher, let's go. Leave them here, but first..."
I quickly shoved a few of the items on the counter into my inventory. They were useful things I hadn't grabbed yet. I wasn't stealing; I was recycling, so technically, I could take them.
"Hope you're okay," I said politely to the hostages.
"Screw you," the wounded thug muttered.
"Destroyer, Catcher, let's go," I said, ignoring the insult.
Both floating cloth-made creatures approached me. Carefully, I walked down the hallway. The white smoke seemed to have dispersed, but just to be safe, I avoided breathing as I moved slowly toward the doors, giving a quick glance outside.
There were five armed men outside, aiming directly at the door. I quickly used [Analyze] on each of them, discovering nothing too important aside from their vision and breathing being a bit impaired, and their levels ranging from 10 to 12.
"Damn…"
I could head out and get shot multiple times, or try to be creative again. I think I know the option.
I didn't have much time. It was better to rely on the minimum timeframe rather than expecting Squealer and her Mad Max machines to be too slow or have constant issues, so I'd have to go with a somewhat stupid move here.
"Sorry, Destroyer, but it seems like the best idea right now."
The Weaver just gave me a blank look.
"Go out there and take the bullets, try to avoid getting shot in the head if possible."
He nodded and promptly opened the doors. Without hesitation, I hid behind him, a barrage of bullets hitting his body repeatedly, with several missing and hitting the doors and walls of the warehouse while I prepared one of the spheres. They seemed to be deteriorating under the weight, with the hydrochloric acid likely corroding their interior.
In quick motions, I threw the spheres in a line in front of the armed thugs, quickly creating a thick, toxic white smoke wall between me and them.
"Now! Destroyer, stay between me and them! Catcher, follow us!"
I quickly started running toward an alley to my right, different from the one I'd used to get here. Destroyer served as a cloth wall between me and the bullets, while Catcher moved alongside me.
-38
"DAMN IT!"
You are suffering from the [Bleeding] debuff; you will lose -5 HP every 10 seconds for 2 minutes.
New skill created!
Piercing Resistance (Passive) Lv. 1 (Exp: 0%)
Description: After taking so many bullets, your body had enough and decided to do something about it (Piercing damage is reduced by 1%).
(Damn, the beginning of a trauma against guns.)
I felt the searing pain in my left side, a red stain quickly forming on my clothes. One of the bullets must have gotten through a weaker spot in Destroyer's fabric body, but I couldn't stop. I had to keep going, had to keep running.
Pushing all my strength into my legs, I ran with everything I had toward the alley. Just one or two more bullets and I was completely screwed—game over, wasted, or whatever else I wanted to call it.
Suddenly, my movements seemed faster, my legs moving as if I'd suddenly gained a speed boost.
New skill created!
Sprint (Active) Lv. 1 (Exp: 0%) (MP: 5 per second)
A budget Flash at the dollar store.
Description: Description: Gathering your energy during a run, you double your running speed while keeping this ability active.
Yes, Yes! YES! I never doubted this system for even a second!
I kept the skill active as I ran towards the alley. Getting there was much easier with this new skill, and all it took to acquire it was almost dying.
I quickly took several random alleys, with the weavers following me. Destroyer had a bit of difficulty, but I soon felt that I was at least a bit safer, with no chance of being found, even if I didn't know exactly where I was.
MP: 0/540 (+46 MP per minute)
You lost the debuff [Bleeding].
Mission Completed!
[Break-in at 24]
Say no to drugs, kids.
Description: Well, the raid wasn't the best thing in the world, but in the end, you managed to steal some things for long-term use. You'll probably avoid armed people from now on.
Received 1800 Exp, 1000 CP, 1 Perk Point.
Congratulations! You leveled up!
At least I got some reward for all this pain and trouble. I checked my [Status] again, my HP not looking good at all right now.
HP: 192/290 (+14 HP per minute)
Almost 100 damage taken—probably the HP recovery while I ran helped a bit with the damage. The best thing to do now is to head home and get some sleep; that'll be better than staying so exposed.
I looked down at myself, my costume completely dirty with dust, blood, and two holes in it.
(Fixing this is going to be a nightmare.)
I checked my bullet wounds. The first seemed to have slowly healed, no bullet lodged inside anymore—it probably fell out during recovery. But the second was still visible, and I could feel the bullet there.
(I'll just leave it. Healing will probably take care of it, and I don't want to dig it out because it'll hurt.)
I sighed and slowly started walking. I was lost, but I'd probably manage to get home by walking a bit and finding some landmarks… hopefully.
Brockton Bay, March 19, 10:14
You slept in a comfortable bed. HP and MP fully recovered!
Ugh… I feel physically refreshed, but mentally, I feel like a truck ran over me, reversed, and did it twenty more times.
I got out of bed and slowly walked to the computer, sat down in the chair, and just turned it on, slumping there with my face all scrunched up and drool dribbling from the corner of my mouth.
I picked up the mouse and started browsing the internet randomly. It was relaxing just to click through random sites, my brain slowly getting back to normal.
"Damn… I look like a mess…"
I sighed deeply and just focused on [Status].
Spoiler: Stats
My main question right now is which Perk to choose. I already know where to put those status points, but the Perk is the main problem. So far, I've gotten a skill where I have to build things to use and some other skills that improve speed and quality, but I can't just keep building endlessly. I need to create something with quality, something that's worth it.
I sat there questioning myself for a while. I couldn't just attack another gang-controlled location out of the blue. I almost died last time because of lack of preparation and power, not to mention I nearly got caught last night. I only managed to avoid it by dismissing the Weavers, storing them in the inventory, and using [Sprint] to avoid being seen by my grandma.
(Her and her completely erratic sleep schedule.)
But mainly, I needed to figure out how to increase LUC. It's pretty clear that this stat is cursed, but I have to figure out what I can do to raise it.
Then there's the whole issue of needing resources and leveling up, but I also have to balance all of this with my daily life, friends, and family—not to mention helping Taylor deal with those damn girls. I sighed and simply dismissed the [Status] screen.
...
I stared at the computer screen thoughtfully, looking at my reflection in the dark parts of the monitor. I kept randomly clicking on any page that didn't look completely suspicious at first glance. In one of these clicks, a news page popped up. I wouldn't have paid much attention, but an idea sparked in my mind as I read through part of the article.
"Oh boy… I think I've got a pretty good way out of this situation."
Yes, this could work. They probably wouldn't be opposed to this potential partnership, since I'm technically neither a villain nor a hero. And maybe I could get some useful allies in times of crisis. Sure, allies who require a bit more effort to help, but it'd pay off in the future.
The last thing I'd need was income and recognition; for that, I need visibility, which I was already planning on.
I slowly realized the paradox I was in: needing viability, CP, and resources, but to get one, I needed the others. And the only other way to get one was to either steal or use money to buy it, which I definitely didn't have enough of.
"Damn…"
I sighed and got up from my chair. I needed another plan, but it had to be a more reasonable and less dangerous one. I walked out of my room, went to the bathroom to take care of basic hygiene, and then headed downstairs to the living room.
Strange, the room was empty and the TV was off. My grandma was probably out in the garden, tending to her flowers. I shrugged and headed to the basement, which was essentially my operations base at this point.
I set up some chairs next to a few boxes that served as a table and laid out some regular notebooks and sketchbooks on it. It was time to start planning again, but this time, I could make a more sensible plan.
"I even have the perfect name for this new plan..." I smiled as I grabbed one of the notebooks and a pen, opened it halfway, and wrote at the top of the page, 'Operation Bay Ties, Phase One: Seaside Watercolors.'
Spoiler: Stats
Sure, the protagonist has an obsession with constantly making plans and naming them, and probably, from the way he spoke, you'll likely know which people he was talking about.