Brockton Bay, March 28th, 4:07 PM
Luck and misfortune—that's what we had been suffering from lately, and I couldn't be more sure of it. I massaged my temples as my elbows rested on the table. At that moment, researching as much as I could in my room and writing this damned report was one of the few things that could calm me down.
It all started this cursed week when we decided to go out, take a walk along the Boardwalk. None of us would have expected a new cape to use the place to introduce himself to people. At first glance, his power—or rather, powers—seemed simple, but not to me. I could still remember what my power told me as I observed him:
'Stagnation, seems to overlook some mistakes but perfectly recognizes others.
A sudden change in painting style, mistakes that once seemed invisible now appear noticed and effectively corrected.
Related to power, learns slowly based on his mistakes—no, gradually gains supernatural understanding of specific things.
Can extend this to other things, permanent learning.'
A Parahuman who could literally learn from his mistakes and become permanently good at things? He was essentially a Victor 2.0, but without the drawback of being discovered for messing with people's minds. He could've been a perfect addition to the team: the group's medic, an excellent long-range fighter with weapons, or even the perfect thief.
But then, everything started snowballing when he revealed he had Tinker powers and was willing to equip us in exchange for a series of surprisingly easy-to-obtain items. Tinker technology—or Tinkertech, as he called it, which is honestly a much better term than "Tinker technology"—was incredibly valuable, even if he described it as "unimpressive."
I typed quickly on my laptop, the damned tension in my body making the task a bit harder. And it was all because of the revelation that he could also mess with biology. That made things even more dangerous. I had honestly asked myself why I hadn't held back my power at that moment. It was another thought that wouldn't leave my mind:
'The Tinker powers work in synergy with Thinker powers, the knowledge gained enhancing the capabilities of the technology created.
Able to create technology capable of modifying living beings, able to create technology based on living beings.
Wants to explore this aspect of his power further, curious about possibilities related to using this area of his ability.
Curious about Rachel Lindt, a member of your group.
Knows member Rachel Lindt is attached to dogs, interested in the dogs she cares for, sees an opportunity to learn more about her and test his powers on the dogs.'
To make things worse, the conversation with Coil on that same day was not just dangerous but also worrisome and uncomfortable for me. Another cape had appeared in the city—one Coil suspected was part of Prismstroke's cluster trigger: Bear King. Powers included creating minions, elemental control, a pocket dimension, and a potential Brute ability. Some things might align here and there if someone squinted and looked upside down.
At that point, there were possibly 2 or 3 other unknown Parahumans in Brockton Bay, if we counted Prismstroke's primary power as his super learning and Bear King's as his projections, considering how strong that newly arrived guy—Browbeat, I think, soon to become a Ward—said they were.
So now we had a possible wet-Tinker on our turf, someone interested in a person who would probably clash badly with the boy's personality. Meanwhile, my boss seemed unusually interested in him for some reason. Telling him about Thiago's ability to mess with the biology of living beings with his power could be very bad, but not telling him could be even worse for us.
I sighed. It would be easier to say something; not saying anything might cause bigger problems down the line. If we were lucky, he might keep the poor kid as some sort of secret weapon or contact him only to discuss ways to use those powers. Maybe if I made it clear in the report that he might be willing to comply, it would give us better odds. I felt bad for the kid at this point—he seemed so absorbed in everything he could do yet so slow in understanding the world around him.
Finally finishing the report, I sent it to Coil. The method of delivery was secure, so I had nothing to worry about. I leaned back in my chair, finally able to rest a bit from all this. I had time—time to check the news and then grab something to eat.
Browsing through the web, I came across some interesting and concerning news:
"Remnants of the Merchants cause unrest in areas of Brockton Bay."
A gang doesn't just vanish because its leaders are gone, but it can certainly crumble—and that's exactly what happened with the Merchants. After Skidmark and the others were arrested, the remaining members scattered, fighting like hyenas over scraps. The small territories they controlled began having their own issues, and the Merchants seemed more than willing to spread those problems to everyone nearby.
This could turn into chaos. So far, nothing too alarming had happened—some shootouts with the police here and there, thefts in a few areas, and so on. But it wouldn't take much for things to escalate, especially if they crossed the Empire 88 or ABB.
Disarray, different approaches to leadership causing conflict—
I shook my head. That was just a guess, but I couldn't let my power run wild like this. Returning my attention to the news, nothing particularly dangerous had happened in the meantime. There were rumors online about a new Ward, Parian making an appearance for a Boardwalk shop's promotion—nothing major.
I stepped away from the computer and got up from my chair. Leaving my room, I went to the living room and saw Alec on the couch, playing a video game. Rachel wasn't in sight, probably off at her dog shelter.
"Hey, Tats. Did you catch the truck's license plate?" Alec asked, glancing my way.
"I'm not that bad," I replied, rolling my eyes as I walked toward the kitchen.
"Heh, if you say so," he quipped, turning his focus back to the game.
Opening the fridge, I scanned its contents before grabbing a slice of pizza leftover from three days ago. I put it in the microwave, pressed a few buttons, and waited. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then Brian walked through the living room. His gaze lingered on Alec for a moment before shifting around and heading to the kitchen counter.
"So, Lisa, how'd it go with the boss?" he asked. He was wearing a brown jacket over a black shirt, black pants, gray-and-white sneakers, and a black backpack slung over his shoulders.
I sighed. Coil had given us another sabotage mission targeting some ABB complexes. I'd tried reasoning with him about the risks involved, but he insisted, claiming he had personnel to assist us and that Lung was still out of Brockton Bay. I had some strong suspicions but nothing concrete.
"He still wants us to do the job, no matter how dangerous it is," I said, leaning against the counter. "But on the bright side, from my research? Lung's going to take a bit longer to return. So at most, we'd only have to deal with Oni Lee."
"Got it. What about Thiago? Maybe he can whip up something to make the job easier, since all the boss wants is intel and sabotage," Brian suggested. He had a point—we could definitely ask Thiago for help.
"Yeah, I'll stop by his workshop later to talk to him. Maybe smoke bombs or straight-up explosives so we can get in, plant them, get out, and still cause damage," I replied. It wasn't a bad idea; Thiago could probably pull it off.
"Alright. Do we have a specific date?"
"Yeah, Thursday. He's already given me the locations and building layouts, so we've got plenty of time to plan." I walked over to the microwave as it beeped, signaling that my pizza was ready.
"Good. At least there's that. Oh, since you're already going to see Thiago, could you ask if he could make some modifications to my costume?" Brian added.
I nodded, pulling the plate from the microwave and taking a bite of the pizza. Perfectly warm and delicious. I finished the slice quickly, waved at Brian, and we headed downstairs. Leaving our base, we started walking toward the workshop.
It didn't take long, weaving through alleys and side streets, to reach the warehouse. Outside, we could hear noises from inside. Entering through one of the garage doors, I was immediately struck by a somewhat concerning scene.
Thiago was focused on something he was welding on a workbench, his face shielded by a welding mask, his posture hunched over the table. Around the workshop, there were several dogs and cats—three dogs and four cats, to be exact. Most were keeping their distance from where Thiago was working. Some played together, while others were asleep. The newest addition to the place was a row of potted plants neatly arranged against the wall opposite the entrance.
"Thiago?" Brian called out as he approached, shielding his eyes slightly with his hand.
Thiago turned off the welder and removed his mask, his gaze falling on us. At that moment, I noticed something was wrong—his expression wasn't its usual cheerful and optimistic self. Instead, he looked tired and hesitant.
'Hesitant. Behavior toward you and team member Brian has shifted in a short period of time.
Fear regarding you and team member Brian.
Recent—fear as a result of a recent event in what is considered a safe environment.
Tense, wary of your presence in the workshop. Reason for fear directly tied to you and team member Brian.
Fear extends to the rest of the Undersiders group.'
This wasn't good news, and depending on what had happened to him, I felt it was crucial to understand more.
"Good morning, Brian, Lisa. Do you need something?" Thiago asked, his gaze lingering on me for a few seconds before he started tidying up what he'd been welding on the workbench.
"Actually, yes. We wanted to know if you could make something like bombs—not too destructive—for a sabotage job," Brian explained.
Thiago narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking, as a cat jumped onto his lap.
"I can do that, but you'll need to get me some materials. Also, could you gather some glass bottles for me? Preferably discarded ones," he said, stroking the cat on his lap.
"Of course, we can do that. So, how've things been at the workshop?" I asked, watching the cat enjoy the attention.
'Adapted. Quickly developed a sense of security and attachment.
Tense around other humans. Poor relationship with humans.
Scars on the body and below-average weight—stray cat.
Fed and comforted by the human, forming a bond faster than usual.
Same applies to the dogs. Possible involvement of parahuman powers.'
I could barely suppress the tension building in my body. Things were going from bad to worse quickly, but at least he only seemed afraid of us. I had to rein in my power; digging deeper might make things obvious.
"It's been going well. I've been thinking about doing another demonstration, maybe trying out a few new things since the rest of the Merchants are still causing problems," Thiago said, examining the cat for a moment before setting it down. "Off you go, Inky, go play with the others."
The cat hesitated for a few seconds before trotting off toward the other cats that were playing nearby.
"I was also wondering if you could make some adjustments to my costume, maybe add a few features," Brian added, pulling his costume from his backpack and handing it to Thiago. "I used to think about ordering upgrades, but after seeing your work on your own suit, I figured I'd ask."
Thiago chuckled softly as he inspected the costume, focusing specifically on the biker helmet. He turned the helmet at different angles, tapped it a couple of times, and then rested it on his lap.
"Yeah, I can do a few things. I've been wanting to experiment with some fabrics recently. If you'd like, I could redesign the helmet—give it a more intimidating look—and maybe add some gear to your costume to make it more functional."
"That sounds great. We might need everything by Wednesday, though. Sorry to rush you like this," Brian apologized with a slightly awkward smile.
"It's fine. I'll be spending a lot of time here anyway, so there's no need to apologize," Thiago replied, smiling faintly. "If you bring everything over tomorrow, I can have it ready the day after."
'Increased focus on workshop activities tied to the event that caused the behavioral change.
Linked to a desire to have more ways to defend himself.
Event involved direct conflict—facing an enemy he couldn't handle.
Desire to develop more lethal methods to deal with enemies and potential threats.'
Wait, if he'd been involved in a parahuman conflict over the weekend, it would've made the news somehow. Most incidents do, even if the details are scarce.
"Well, I'd like to be alone for a bit today. If that's all, could you leave me be for now? We can discuss the bombs and the costume more tomorrow," Thiago said, turning back to the workbench.
"Sure, no problem. But before we go, could I ask you something, Thiago?" I said, stepping a little closer.
"Of course," he replied, shifting his attention back to me.
"Are you okay? You don't seem like yourself," I asked.
He clenched his fist slightly before giving me a smile that seemed caught between tense and exhausted.
"I'm fine, just a bit tired," he said, turning back to the workbench and putting on his welding mask.
'Lying. Doesn't want more information about this to be uncovered.
Afraid of you discovering more about the reason for his behavior.
Knows you have ways to uncover details about the events tied to his change in demeanor.
Understands your powers and how they work.
Knows when you're using them.'
Okay, I needed more time to process this. Taking it at face value for now, Brian and I left the warehouse, the sound of the welder turning back on following us out.
There was so much to unpack today, especially that last revelation. Its implications were far from comforting in the grand scheme of things, and something told me that digging deeper might be dangerous.
Once again, I'm afraid I might not have captured a character's personality correctly; it's basically become a common concern for me by now.
By the way, for anyone confused, the upcoming chapters of the third arc will directly explain the change in Thiago's behavior.
2 Days Ago
Brockton Bay, March 26th, 01:02
"Yes!" I whispered in excitement.
[Electronics] leveled up!
Working in the workshop paid off—better tools, [Electronics] reaching level 13, and plenty of time to think about my next steps. Honestly, most of my time there was spent upgrading the P.H.O.N.E. and creating things out of junk I found lying around.
And now? I had just finished my latest creation. It was essentially a drone I built to gather information about different parts of the city, specifically gang territories. The drone had a bat-shaped bottom, painted completely black. I used scraps of fabric from Destroyer and Grabber for this. The main body of the drone rested on the bat's back—four propellers made from disposable plastic spoons. The camera was located on the bat's chest. Actually, it wasn't a single camera but several combined to take photos from various angles, cobbled together from old phones lying around the house. This DIY project got my [Trash Tech] skill up to level 8.
I spent uninterrupted hours on my computer developing software for the drone, which pushed [Computing] to level 14, alongside the modifications I made to the P.H.O.N.E. in the workshop. The system was simple: every second, the cameras would take a photo from multiple angles. After two hours of flight, the drone would return home, and I'd download the images. Its battery was sufficient for three hours of continuous flight. The software would analyze the images and generate a map, marking potential gang areas based on parameters I set. Since this was my first project of this kind, I expected plenty of mistakes and inaccuracies.
It was a solid plan. With my current computer, it would be very useful. I also intended to share the data with the Undersiders; keeping up appearances was always a good move. Aside from the drone, the other items I worked on were simpler. For instance, since I didn't have easy access to a pepper spray can, I improvised. I bought a cheap spray can for 20 CP and replaced the contents with a mix of ammonia and hydrochloric acid. The main issue was that this mixture corroded the can's interior over time, so I had to use the spray quickly and stash it in my inventory, which conveniently froze time for stored objects.
The last item was more thematic: a paintbrush I bought for 20 CP. Its most important feature was a concealed blade. A sharp metal strip formed the blade, and its tip was hidden among the bristles. The lower half of the brush could detach, turning it into a knife. With it, I made one more creation: a set of paints mixed with the most common but highly toxic plants I could find—castor beans, lily of the valley, oleander, anthurium, and hemlock. For extra safety, I made a black paint combining all these poisons, in case I ever had to fight a high-level Brute or someone with regeneration. I would avoid such scenarios at all costs, of course.
All this cost me 1,060 CP, with an additional 20 CP for my first mishap with the chemical mix, which earned me an extra level in [Poison Resistance]—and irritated eyes and throat for a few hours. Who knew hydrochloric acid could eat through a spray can if given enough time?
Now, I was well-equipped and had my first long-term project underway. I couldn't help but smile as I looked at the software I had developed and the items in my inventory.
I was left with 1,215 CP—slightly more thanks to a handful of views on some creations in the [Graphics] tab. It wouldn't be long before Prismstroke would need to put on another show.
I slowly got up and walked to my bed. The rest of the day promised to be uneventful—something I was honestly looking forward to.
Brockton Bay, March 26th, 12:34
"I told you this place was great!" Jayne said, taking a big forkful of spaghetti.
So far, the day at the mall had been fun. We were having lunch, though Taylor seemed a bit unsure about being here. She wasn't complaining—whether out of politeness or an effort not to ruin the mood, I couldn't tell. Still, she avoided spending much, which seemed like a challenge given Jayne's determination to use both her money and mine to make sure Taylor left with plenty of stuff.
So far, Jayne had managed to convince Taylor to buy a hoodie, two tops she would probably never wear, a pair of pants, five shirts, and a bee hair clip. She noticed Taylor looking at the clip for a few seconds longer than usual and insisted she wear it right away. I had to admit—it really suited her, especially with her hair.
The day had been enjoyable overall. I even had the chance to stop by a fabric store and check out some materials. Internally, I thanked my mom for insisting I take extra money today on top of what she'd already given me. I ended up spending part of it on fabric, which I carried around in a bag for the rest of the day.
It had been a fun outing, though there wasn't much new at the mall. Jayne wanted to take Taylor to a makeup store, but that was one thing Taylor firmly refused, so Jayne gave up on that plan for the day.
"Hey, Taylor, have you been enjoying the day?" Jayne asked, smiling as she looked at the taller girl.
"Kind of," Taylor replied thoughtfully, taking a bite of her spaghetti.
"How about we go somewhere more fun? There's a pet shop on the second floor, if I remember right. Maybe we can check out some cute animals!" Jayne's excitement was clear—she seemed like the type who loved adorable creatures.
Taylor just nodded while eating.
The dynamic between them was interesting. Jayne was talkative and cheerful, constantly trying to engage Taylor in conversation. Taylor, on the other hand, mostly gave short responses, nodded, and kept to herself. I chimed in occasionally, but for the most part, I just observed. We made for an intriguing group.
After that? Not much changed. We found the pet shop and spent some time there, with Jayne picking up puppies and kittens and showing them to us, insisting we pet them.
A funny moment happened when Taylor came across a tarantula. She was visibly more interested in the spider than in the puppies or kittens. The shopkeeper eagerly pitched the idea of her buying it, but Jayne stepped in at the last moment, preventing Taylor from walking out with a tarantula in tow.
By 3:26 PM, we were leaving the mall. Taylor insisted on heading home early, saying she had things to do. I backed her up, claiming I also had things to take care of—namely, working on my drone. Jayne was a little disappointed but made us promise to schedule another mall trip as soon as possible.
After being basically forced to agree, Taylor and I took a bus home. My mom could've picked us up, but she mentioned she'd be busy later, so the bus was our best option. The ride was quiet—not much to note along the way.
We got off at one stop, transferred to another bus, and eventually made it back home. The first thing I noticed was a van parked in front of my house. It looked like it belonged to a plumbing company. Grandma must have called them for something, but it was odd—she usually tried to fix things herself.
"Bye, Taylor. See you Monday," I said as I walked toward my front door.
"See you," she replied, heading toward her house.
I climbed the steps to my house and glanced through the front windows. The curtains were drawn, and there was no sound coming from inside. That was unsettling. I felt a small tug on my leg and looked down. A tiny Grub was there, alarmed, pointing first at the van and then at the house.
This didn't feel good at all. My muscles tensed as unease crept over me. I turned toward the van and used [Analyze].
Plumber's van?
Engine off, probably for some time.
White, with a cartoonish blue-and-white logo reading "FlowFix."
No decorations on the front area.
Back section obscured by tinted windows.
This was very, very concerning. Whoever was in my house likely knew I had arrived. They couldn't be common burglars—they'd have left by now. And they weren't real plumbers, as there was no noise coming from inside. If someone was working on the pipes, there'd be sounds.
That left one possibility: someone was here for me or a family member. And that thought filled me with dread. I moved toward the door cautiously, took a deep breath, and prepared my mind to cast [Fire] or [Mana Bullet] if necessary.
Turning the doorknob, I pushed the door open. The sight inside was far more terrifying than I could describe. My heart froze and clenched painfully in my chest, as if someone was crushing it. I barely noticed my breath stop and my body start to tremble.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Smith. Why don't you come in and have a seat?" Coil said, sitting calmly on the living room sofa, his tone unnervingly composed.
Spoiler: Stats
I honestly feel a little guilty about what I've planned for the protagonist.
Edit: I wrote the dates wrong in this chapter and the previous one, sorry about that.
Brockton Bay, March 26, 3:58 PM
Breathe! BREATHE! BREATHE, YOU IDIOT!
I screamed internally as I closed the door behind me, not fully shutting it. My shaky legs took me to the couch, and I sat down at the farthest edge from Coil. I glanced around the room, but kept my focus on Coil in my peripheral vision.
A man with a weapon stood by the door, right where I couldn't see him. There were probably more around, but that wasn't my concern right now. If Coil was here, and everything was silent, where were my grandmother and mother?
"If I may say, it's a pleasure to meet you," the villain said as he crossed one leg over the other, his hands folded on his lap. "You probably don't know me, I prefer to keep people knowing as little as possible about me, but you can call me Coil."
My nod was stiff and robotic. I was in such inner agony that it almost felt like something was crawling inside me. My biggest fear wasn't about me—I could at least do something—but about my relatives, the people I loved.
"Your silence is understandable, entering your home, in a place where you feel safe, but if you allow me, I have an offer that could justify this action." That bastard, son of a bitch, asshole.
It was clear what he was doing: showing that he was in control, that rejecting his deal could have consequences. He knew where I lived, probably who I lived with, and my identity. He was pressuring me to accept whatever deal he had.
"My grandmother and my mother…"
"Pardon?" He responded, feigning slight confusion.
"Where are they?"
"Oh, don't worry about them, they won't be a problem, but let's get to the point."
I felt cold, empty inside. That choice of words was intentional—he'd done something to them, hadn't he? All because of me, all because I was an idiot who didn't think for a second before approaching the Undersiders, even knowing they were a ticking time bomb, all because I wanted some stupid moment to use my powers.
"It's come to my attention that you have potential, not just you, but your... friends."
"Friends?" That caught me off guard. I didn't have any friends with powers that the Undersiders knew of, unless Lisa had been watching me.
"The other members of your Cluster trigger, Mr. Smith. It's clear you know who they are, you even have contact with one of them—Bear King, if I remember correctly."
Wait... He... thinks I'm part of a Cluster Trigger?
"You may not know about the other members aside from Bear King, of course, but you all could have an opportunity. I could help you all become a powerful group in this city." Each word of his, while keeping me on alert, filled me with anguish. I was doing my best to control the tremors in my body and the overwhelming feelings.
"But for now, I'd like to make this offer specifically to you, Prismstroke. I'll provide useful machinery and quality resources, and in return, all you'd need to do is create technology for me. Of course, you'll still have your contract with the Undersiders, but I expect to have a bit more priority."
[Acting] Leveled up!
My responses were all tense, shaky nods. I was on the brink of breaking down at that moment and just wanted this to end—so I could see my relatives again, so I could know they were okay, safe, and sound.
"Splendid, it's good to know you agree with me. With all these points discussed, I'll take my leave for now. For future contact, I left a phone specifically for this purpose in your room. If you don't mind, I'll ask you to head upstairs now." Uh, if I don't mind? What the hell kind of choice did I have?
I stood up from the couch, walking slowly to the stairs that led to the second floor. Once upstairs, I let my emotions spill over.
The tears, the sniffles, the intense trembling, and the agonizing feeling were the last straw for me. Sitting in the hallway, I let the full reality of things sink in—terror, fear, agony, anxiety, and paranoia completely overtook my mind.
Why did I have to be so stupid? Why couldn't I just think a little more before making these idiotic decisions? DAMN IT! I thought almost dying twice would have put something in my head!
Shit, because of my stupidity, maybe my mom and grandmother are dead, maybe my friends will suffer the consequences of my dumb ideas, maybe everything I love will be taken from me because I've been like a damn fool running back and forth all this time!
All these questions circled my mind, like vultures around a carcass. I hated myself for the actions I had taken, and the results were already knocking on the door, but I was going to do something, no matter how stupid it was. I was going to get out of this stupid situation I got myself into. Maybe it was time to stop relying on hope and start relying a bit more on intelligence.
Brockton Bay, March 27, 09:01
Coil was a treacherous snake, but the most cunning kind. He was always thinking about the details, how every word choice revealed something underneath. That's how it went in our "conversation"—his words were always polite and seemed to offer me a choice, but it was all just to show how little choice I actually had at that moment. Even coming to my house had its hidden meanings.
[By running continuously for so long, you gained 1 DEX]
Fear was my fuel now, paranoia as well. But I had to use them as a weapon, not let them spread in my mind. Waking up this morning to run was an easy choice. My laziness and reluctance tried to stop me, but the thought of Coil showing up at my house again while I was that weak made me get up quickly.
My best option was to run from home to a nearby park, and by "nearby," I mean specifically a little further into Downtown, near Arcadia. It was a fairly decent location, close to the Wards' school, so anyone with any sense would avoid doing anything that would draw attention in that area. The place was well-kept and large enough for me to train.
Running all that distance, from my house to the park, earned me about 3 points in DEX and 2 in CON, thanks to the point where I decided to change, or better put, the clothes I chose to wear.
Spoiler: (90s Fit Energy) Set
I liked extravagant and colorful clothes, but this was on a whole different level. Thankfully, I could wear other things over them.
But it was all worth it. Shame was nothing compared to the paranoia that had been taking over my mind since yesterday. In the end, my mom and grandmother weren't dead, but somehow that made things worse. The imminent danger of Coil simply ordering their deaths and me being unable to do anything about it was terrifying.
My grandmother was at a friend's house in the neighborhood, and my mom had gone out to help a friend who was having problems in another part of the city. This all seemed oddly convenient, so I was going to keep an eye on things.
Arriving at the park was both a relief and a frustration. Good because I could finally train more, doing push-ups, sit-ups, and other exercises. Bad because my body was completely sore; it felt like a truck had run over me, and I hated it.
Breathing heavily, I walked to a tree, placed myself in its shade, and slowly started my push-ups. My arms protested, but this pain and fatigue would pay off in the future.
[By doing push-ups continuously, you gained 1 STR]
My priorities had been set for some time now. First, I needed to train and get stronger as quickly as possible. Second, I needed to get rid of Coil somehow. I didn't know if I could kill him, but I couldn't just sit around waiting for someone else to do it. Third, I needed to get CP. Buying useful things was crucial.
My creativity had to work, and I was going to use it. My first idea was to use [Trash Tech] to create something like a combat robot, both to train with and to deal with other enemies that I might need it for. I couldn't put myself at risk against masters or other enemies of that type. It was easier for a machine to handle them, but this would take time unless I acquired a skill related to robotics. That one would probably be easy to get.
One more thing to add to the list—another idea was to level up [Biology] and [Chemistry]. Both were very useful skills, and unlike other people, I didn't have any issues with using biological or chemical weapons. It never seemed like a bad idea to me, but I wanted to level those skills quickly, so I'd need to study as well as do things hands-on. The fastest way was to find stray animals, with cats and dogs being the most common. I'd kill two birds with one stone—help the animals and improve my skills.
[By doing push-ups continuously, you gained 1 STR]
First, I needed to acquire a skill related to psychology, specifically animal psychology. Stray animals would likely be hostile toward people due to mistreatment, so it would be easier to get a skill like that to avoid bites and possibly rabies from any dog or cat.
I would also invest in a skill related to plants. They were easier to manipulate biologically, and maybe with high enough [Chemistry] and [Biology], I could create species of plants with anomalous effects—like living metal plants or plants specifically for making paints. I liked art as a hobby, but if I was going to get stronger, it was time to use it as a weapon too, not just in painting but all other forms of art, like acting, writing, music, and others.
[By doing push-ups continuously and exercising for long periods, you gained 1 STR and 1 CON]
It's going to be hell, but hell that I brought on myself. I was already scared, looking around every corner and suspecting anyone could be an agent of Coil. Just the beginning of this paranoia was horrible. I wouldn't stay like this forever.
Brockton Bay, March 26, 14:01
Exercising continuously earned me a good amount of points in STR, CON, and DEX. It was a decent improvement, but I decided to take a break from that and focus on something else I had planned. I used those damn 3 points I had and promptly put them in WIS.
Spoiler: [Post-exercise status]
I wouldn't let myself be that stupid again. It was time to use my points in INT and WIS. Maybe neglect CHA a little or force myself to have social interactions and talk to others, but that wasn't really important. Now, I was randomly searching the docks for stray animals. Dogs were the hardest to find. Bitch probably took any she saw, which explained their absence, but there were plenty of cats, of all types and with all kinds of problems.
For this, I spent 200 CP to get a book and acquire the skill [Animal Psychology].
Animal Psychology (Passive) Lv. 1
You're no Dr. Dolittle, but it's a start.
Description: You've decided to figure out how the minds of the other creatures in your world work—from understanding when they're comfortable with you to knowing when they want to tear your throat out with their teeth. (Creatures classified as animals are 1% more receptive to your presence and actions.)
My plan was to find the least aggressive cat possible. Most of them didn't seem to like me much in general—always aggressive or running away. But with enough determination and food, I managed to find a more receptive feline: a small black kitten that approached me when I offered him some food.
"Aren't you the cutest little thing in the world?" I asked, scratching under the kitten's chin as he ate some of the food I had offered him. I silently thanked my mom for not minding giving me some money.
[Animal Psychology] leveled up!
Yes! All I needed now was to find more cats. If I could get more felines to be receptive to me, I could level up my skill faster while also having adorable little furballs to help distract me from the constant fear. A win-win.
And so, I began my journey with my new kitten, whom I faithfully named Inky, like a tiny black ink spot on a canvas. On our journey, several cats and even a few dogs joined our group: Snowball, a limping white kitten; Caramel, a dog that strongly resembled the classic Brazilian caramel mutt; Spots, a tuxedo cat; Big Foot, an American Shorthair kitten; an entire litter of seven cats I cheerfully named after the Seven Deadly Sins, with their mother named Satus (yes, very dramatic); and finally, Sir Arthur Von Elain and his identically named brother—or simply Save 1 and Save 2—who were both beagles.
Sure, this large number of animals might seem a bit overwhelming, but compared to the sheer number of other creatures I found wandering the docks, they were a small group. In the end, I brought them all to my workshop, fed them food and water, and made beds for them out of old fabric.
Every one of them had injuries of some kind. Most had fresh wounds from fights with other animals or inflicted by humans. Save and Satus were the hardest to bring along; the dog was covered in scratches, and Satus nearly started a massive fight with the other cats.
But in the end, everything worked out—more or less. I used some supplies from the first-aid kit at home to treat their wounds, earning me two extra levels in [Biology]. [Animal Psychology] was already at level 11 now. Hours spent dealing with animals had been incredibly useful. On top of that, I gained a point in CON from all the walking and running around, which felt like a nice reward.
Now, sitting in my workshop, I had time and resources. This time, I wouldn't be so friendly with others, nor would I be less paranoid. My first step was to gather more data overall and figure out how to earn CP without putting myself in so much danger. It was time to use my brain—and I was going to do just that.
Spoiler: [Stats]
I wanted to take advantage of finally gathering the courage to post this chapter and ask you, readers, a question: do you think I should pick up the pace of the story? I feel like it has been moving very slowly so far—around 20 or more chapters covering just two weeks seems a bit too slow and dull to me.
Brockton Bay, March 28th, 11:42 AM
Today was a special day, a very special one, in fact. Today, I would begin the most important part of a plan that had been in motion for a very, very long time.
"Are we... really doing this?" Taylor asked hesitantly, looking at the girl. I could tell how anxious she was, her posture withdrawn in a defensive way.
"Yes, Taylor, we're doing this. Everything is perfectly planned, and today those girls are going down," I said, smiling at her.
"Exactly. I spoke with a few of my other friends, and they already know what to do. All you need to do is go there. You don't need to worry about anything," Jayne said optimistically.
"...But what if they don't believe me? They never have, not even when they should have intervened or done something..." It didn't take a genius to see she was holding back her anger, her words dripping with bitterness.
"Well, if that happens, I'll talk to my mom, and we can team up to sue the school—or at least threaten them with it. Blackwell doesn't seem like the type of person who'd want to deal with something like that. It'd be another reason for her to back down and expel Sophia, Emma, and Madison," I said, shrugging. I was going to make sure they were out one way or another. This mission was nearing its end, closer than I liked. It was now or never.
"Don't worry. I'll be there in case anything happens. You just need to stick to the plan, and everything will be fine, okay?" Jayne said, placing a reassuring hand on Taylor's shoulder, smiling at the taller girl.
"...Okay." She still seemed doubtful, but her voice carried more confidence than before. Jayne really seemed to be spending much more time talking to and bonding with Taylor than I was.
"Alright then. Remember—walk as if you're not expecting anything, let them approach and start their little act. Jayne will give you the signal when I arrive with the principal. Everyone clear?"
Jayne and Taylor nodded. With everything ready, we split up. The plan was straightforward: Taylor would let the girls find her in a hallway and try to stall them as much as possible. Jayne would observe, ensuring nothing went off track and signaling Taylor when I showed up with Blackwell. Taylor would then counter whatever the trio said and let them react where Blackwell could see. A crowd would likely gather, and some of them would be the friends and allies Jayne and I had rallied against the trio.
It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was effective—and it avoided anything legally questionable, like recording minors or taping conversations without their consent. I wasn't sure if that was illegal, but it was better to avoid it altogether.
When I reached the reception desk outside the principal's office, I checked my phone, waiting for a message from Jayne. I chatted briefly with the receptionist, making sure Blackwell was in her office at that moment.
"Come on, come on… where is it…" I muttered impatiently, waiting for the damn message to arrive.
Finally, it came. The trio had cornered Taylor near the empty classrooms on the second floor. Jayne confirmed that some of the people on our side were already there—it had all happened pretty quickly, actually. With that in mind, I headed to the principal's door, opening it quickly and ignoring whatever the secretary might have been saying.
"Principal Blackwell! I need your help! Some girls are bullying my friend on the second floor!" I said, feigning panic and desperation.
"Oh! What—" She looked surprised for a few seconds before taking a deep breath, standing up, and walking toward me. "Are you sure about this, Mr. Smith? Couldn't it just be a misunderstanding?"
"I'm absolutely sure, Principal. She even tried to walk away and said she wasn't comfortable, but they didn't stop. Please, let's hurry before it turns into a fight!"
"Alright, show me where it is," she said, and I quickly nodded, leading her toward the scene.
Everything was going perfectly. The sound of Blackwell's heels clicking against the floor with every step was music to my ears at that moment. Those girls had no idea of the storm heading their way, and I was more than happy to be the one guiding it straight to them.
It wasn't hard to find the spot. The group of students forming a semicircle around the scene made the conflict easy to locate. Emma and Madison were standing slightly back from Taylor, while Sophia was much closer—almost invading Taylor's personal space. Taylor noticed Blackwell and me approaching through the crowd, then said something that triggered a reaction from Sophia.
"Damn it, Sophia! Couldn't you just leave me alone? If you hate me so much, just pretend I don't exist!" It was clear those words weren't just an act. Every one of them practically dripped with suppressed anger and resentment.
The reaction was a look of disbelief and fury, followed by a punch straight to Taylor's cheek. That was the breaking point for Jayne, who panicked and rushed to intervene, checking on Taylor. The result was an unpleasant bruise forming on Taylor's left cheek and a bit of blood on her lips. Sophia had likely injured Taylor's mouth with that punch, though from a distance it was hard to tell if it was a split lip or something else.
"Why don't you learn, Hebert? You're a stain. Don't you get that, or are you just a dumb slut?" The taller girl spat at Taylor, who was now on the floor, with Jayne gently wiping the blood from her mouth with a cloth.
"Not only ugly but also dumb—what a disappointment, Taylor. I guess Aunt Annette died out of shame for having such a terrible daughter," Emma sneered. Her laugh was purely sadistic and cruel, with not a shred of remorse anywhere on her face. At that moment, my greatest desire was to punch her, but that would neither be ethical nor helpful.
Taylor was visibly on the verge of tears as Jayne tried her best to comfort her. The last member of the group, Madison, simply laughed nervously. Blackwell stood frozen, watching the scene with a mix of disbelief, horror, and anger etched on her face. I could almost hear the gears in her mind slowly turning as she processed everything.
"ENOUGH!" she shouted, fury evident in her voice, as she marched with determined steps into the semicircle. The loud clicks of her heels punctuated her movements. "Sophia, Emma, Madison, this behavior is unacceptable in a school environment. Not only did you verbally assault your peer, but you also physically attacked her without provocation!"
"Bu-but Principal, she did—" Emma stammered, trying to come up with something on the spot, panic likely setting in.
"Silence, Emma! I don't want to hear a word from any of you three. You will come with me to the office immediately, and you will not utter a sound." Her attention quickly shifted to Taylor, who was still sitting on the floor, stunned by the unfolding events. "Miss Hebert, are you able to make it to the infirmary now? I can call a teacher if you can't."
"I-I… No, I'm fine. I'll go later. But I also… I want to speak with you in the office." There was a spark of hope in her voice. I wasn't a mind-reader like Lisa, but even I could sense it.
"Of course, Miss Hebert. But I insist that after this, you visit the infirmary to check your injury. Now—"
"Wait, Principal. I want to go too. I have a lot to say to you about those three," Jayne interjected, helping Taylor to her feet.
"Very well, Miss Torrez. Anyone else?" Blackwell asked, scanning the crowd, her sharp gaze judging everyone present.
That was the necessary trigger. A small group of about nine students stepped forward, stating they also wanted to go to the office to talk about what had happened and other issues related to the trio.
"It seems you three have been causing some problems, haven't you?" Blackwell's tone dripped with sarcasm as she led Sophia, Emma, Madison, Jayne, Taylor, and the other nine students toward the office. My plan had worked. It wasn't perfect, but it was effective.
From that point on, everything unfolded just as I had anticipated. According to the rumors, the parents of the students involved were called into the office. There were arguments, shouting, and even Emma resorting to tears and drama to try to turn things in her favor. But it wasn't going to work—not this time.
A small yet crucial part of our plan involved Taylor preparing as much evidence as she had and leaving it ready at her house before this moment. When the parents were called, she asked Danny to stop by and bring the evidence to the school.
From there, everything fell apart for the trio. First, with students serving as witnesses to the bullying allegations—many of them sharing classes with Taylor—it wasn't easy to dismiss what they testified to.
Second, Blackwell had witnessed the incident herself, meaning she could personally attest to the cruel words from Emma, Sophia's aggression, and Madison's complacency.
Lastly, Taylor had clearly been injured, as evidenced by the blood and likely a visible mark on her face. Unless Alan decided to throw Sophia under the bus to save Emma, both would be held accountable—Sophia for the assault and Emma for enabling it.
Adding to this were the students' complaints about teacher negligence. According to Jayne, before heading home, Blackwell was furious about this. Maybe there would even be some staff changes? Who cares—it's their fault for not doing their jobs properly.
With all of this combined, Blackwell partially granted Taylor's request. The trio was suspended for a month, required to attend school during that time, and, better yet, a possible transfer to Arcadia was on the table. The transfer would depend on Taylor passing a diagnostic test to determine if she met the school's standards.
Surprisingly, Greg, a boy and a girl went to the principal's office towards the end of the meeting and dropped a bombshell. Apparently, they had been nearby during the locker incident, and they testified that Sophia pushed Taylor into the locker while Emma and Madison worked to intimidate other students into staying silent.
The final outcome was a complete acceptance of the two-month suspension request and, even better, a huge blemish on the school records of Madison, Emma, and Sophia. However, that wasn't the most important part—the real highlight was that Sophia would almost certainly face issues with the PRT because of this.
At the moment, Taylor and her dad were heading home, and Jayne was doing the same with her mom. I managed to slip out of class quickly to give the two a wave. Jayne returned the wave, not just to me but to Taylor as well, and, surprisingly, Taylor waved back too, a faint but visible smile on her face as she drove off with her dad.
Mission accomplished!
[Protector of the Weak]
A strong man defends himself; a stronger man defends others.
Description: Congratulations! Not only did you manage to help Taylor escape the Trio, but you also gave her an opportunity, exposed the Trio's dirt in an undeniable way, and helped Taylor Hebert gain a true friend who genuinely likes her.
Rewards:
Gained 1200 XP, 600 CP, Taylor Hebert now considers you a friend.
Bonus 1: For helping Taylor gain an honest friend who likes her for who she is, you received 2000 XP, 1500 CP, and the [True Colors] Trait.
Bonus 2: For exposing the Trio's deeds effectively and irrefutably without drawing attention to yourself, you earned 2000 XP, 1500 CP.
Bonus 3: For enabling Taylor to secure a transfer to a school other than Winslow, you earned 3000 XP, 2000 CP, and 1 Golden Token.
[True Colors]
You are completely blank, like an empty canvas.
Description: You didn't judge someone based on appearances but instead saw their true colors and accepted them as they were. You understand the importance of judging people by their honest and genuine selves. (You can now perceive people's true colors, either as pure hues or in the form of drawings, and gain the [True Colors: Canvas] ability.)
[True Colors: Canvas] (Passive) Lv. 1
Description: You've discovered how to unleash the full potential of colors and their meanings, allowing you to create paints with anomalous effects and granting you a deeper understanding of colors in general.
Congratulations! You leveled up! You gained 3 status points.
The points and new skill were very welcome. Taking the opportunity, I slowly returned to school, planning my next steps.
Brockton Bay, March 29, 9:16 AM
When I acquired the [True Colors] Trait, I didn't initially think much about its overall possibilities. Actually, I did, but I didn't consider the problems that a Trait like this might bring.
Looking at myself in the P.H.O.N.E. screen at that moment explained those problems perfectly. My pupils were abnormal, completely different from before. With every blink, their shapes and colors changed—sometimes turning into stars, question marks, or simple spheres of various colors. Adding to this, a strand of my hair now resembled a constantly shifting rainbow.
It was that cursed trope where a character expresses their emotions directly through changes in their pupils, with colors representing their feelings. It painted a giant target on my back. Thankfully, I managed to convince my grandmother to let me skip my first capoeira training session yesterday by faking illness. This allowed me to minimally control my emotions so my eyes—and that damned strand of hair—wouldn't change color in front of Tattletale.
However, it made my morning exercises harder. Even though few people were out early, I still felt anxious walking around with that shifting strand of hair alongside my eyes. At least I managed to gain three points in STR and CON, plus two more in DEX.
Today, however, I pretended to go to school but changed my route to the workshop, avoiding as many people as possible along the way. These physical changes had opened an unprecedented Pandora's box, warning me about Traits that altered my appearance.
I was stuck between wearing a hat and sunglasses—making me look suspicious—or not wearing them and looking like a parahuman. Neither was ideal. The second was obviously problematic, and the first was because I'm a Black teenager in a city with a Nazi gang where part of the white population believes in that supremacist garbage.
My current state of mind was a mix of irritation and happiness. I was happy with the doors this ability opened based on my initial experiments, and even more so with the possibilities offered by the Golden Token.
[Golden Token]
Description: A token of appreciation with great significance, allowing you to purchase an item from the shop with a price limit of 15,000 CP.
My plan was to buy the reverse 1999 Half-Blood Trait, but with the Golden Token, I could simply get the improved version of that Trait.
Aligned with the Arcanum: Pure Blood (Reverse: 1999) [Trait]
You've discovered that you're not only different from ordinary humans but also possess latent potential that sets you apart from both normal humans and Half-Blood Arcanists. This potential grants a stronger connection with the Arcanum. (Develops a random Arcane ability based on the user. +30% INT, +20% WIS, -10% CON.)
Price: 12,500
The main issue was the potential consequences this power might bring. If [True Colors] had already caused these noticeable changes, I was deeply worried about what could happen next. But I was already screwed, and most Pure-Blood Arcanists I remembered from the game didn't exhibit physical changes, so I was probably safe.
With a sigh, I used the token. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I watched as it dissolved into shimmering golden particles. At first, nothing happened; everything seemed normal. But then, my world began to spin. Everything around me seemed to melt and shift, spinning endlessly in on itself. Every object and living being appeared to dissolve like a freshly painted canvas exposed to rain.
Their colors streamed off their bodies. A high-pitched ringing slowly grew louder in my ears. Stumbling toward the table with some of my projects, I tried to grab its edge, but with everything distorted and twisted, my hand missed the furniture, and I fell to the ground.
The last thing I remembered before passing out was Inky meowing nearby, rubbing against me as I blacked out.
Brockton Bay, March 29, 4:09 PM
(Damn it, did anyone get the truck's license plate?)
My lungs gulped air like a giant glass of water in the desert. I braced both hands on the ground as I pushed myself up.
The sweat, the foul taste in my mouth, and the heavy feeling in my body were all signs that I'd blacked out longer than I'd expected. This was bad.
A sigh escaped me as I stood. This wasn't the time to cry over lost time, but at least I could check if I'd gained an interesting skill from it.
After some difficulty getting up, I ran my hand through my hair, brushing off some of the dirt from the floor.
For a second, I felt something—a sensation like a shock, but without the pain and much… weaker.
Running my hand through my hair again, I felt the sensation once more, exactly where that streak of colored hair was. It was… strange. I couldn't quite explain it.
It was like having a word on the tip of your tongue. You knew what the word was, but you couldn't say it for some reason. So close, yet so far away at the same time.
The silence stretched for long seconds, a whirlwind of questions and ideas swirling in my mind. But then I gave in to one of them and extended my metaphorical hand toward that strange sensation.
And it was… ART.
Hair, skin, flesh, bones, blood—all of it united into a single thing, balanced like a house of cards, where any change could lead to disastrous results.
But there was so much more than that.
There were emotions.
Disastrous hope, toxic optimism, destructive innocence, creeping paranoia, devouring fear, and so much more.
I saw without looking, I felt without touching. It was so… unnerving and intimate that I had to look away.
My legs wobbled as I stared wide-eyed at my own hand. Ink dripped from it—twisted, wrong ink, like looking at a 3D illusion. It seemed to be one thing and another at the same time.
As I watched that… thing, I noticed a pop-up that had been in the background until now.
MP: 780/800 (+72 MP/M)
…
Damn it, it was my Arcane skill, wasn't it?
With a heavy feeling in my chest, I quickly opened the [Skills] tab, my eyes focusing on the most recent addition.
Renaissance Synthesis (Arcane Skill) (Active) Lv. 1 (MP: 30 Per minute)
Art, Feelings, Reality, three different things, but why not add them together?
Description: The world is art, and this has become much more apparent and visible to you. Through the Arcanum, you can bring meanings, feelings, or echoes of these things into reality in the form of static or living paintings, which you can manipulate and/or shape. (All creations receive a 2% increase in quality.)
"Shit…"
Wait, if I can do all that, then what the hell did I just do to myself?
…
For a second, my mind plunged into a pit of very dark questions and answers—questions I immediately turned my back on.
First, I had to see the limits of this power. The description was too… philosophical and confusing.
Well, I had pseudo-ink on my hand that would probably get me in trouble with the PRT, and a skill that would likely make me a terror all on its own.
It was ink, so, simplifying things, I pulled one of my sketchbooks from my [Inventory] and opened it to a blank page. I slowly brought my hand closer to the page and touched it.
The ink moved like a magnet drawn to the blank space full of potential. It swirled and spun like a tornado on the paper, changing colors erratically and chaotically before slowing down and forming a single image.
A drawing of a being with a… childish form? So much was missing—no expression, not even a face, no human physical traits to the point of looking like a completely smooth doll. The only distinguishable features were its height and thin physique.
Its body was entirely in shades of white, gray, and black. Books, tools, and multiple other random objects decorated the floor and surroundings, forming something like a pile of useless things.
In its hands, a multicolored sphere remained. Its face stared at the sphere, its fingers gripping it like a lifeline.
The sphere spun and spun, like a light show of bright and wonderful colors that pleased the eyes. It was so beautiful and pleasant, so… Creative.
Ideas sprouted in my head like raindrops falling in the middle of a storm. So many ideas, so much splendor and vividness, painted in the most diverse colors.
I needed to write them down, I needed to draw them, I NEEDED TO CREATE THEM.
I NEEDED I NEEDED I NEEDED I NEEDED I NEEDED I NEEDED.
Everything spiraled and spiraled, descending deeper and deeper like a rabbit hole with no beginning or end.
[ERROR DETECTED] [ERROR CORRECTION PROGRAM ACTIVATED] [ERROR NEUTRALIZED]
But then I found the end of that rabbit hole, which came in the form of a sudden surge of willpower that made me look away from that damn drawing and drop the sketchbook.
My legs turned to jelly, and the result was my current state: on the floor of my workshop.
"Shit…" Everything was chaos. Not a single thought made sense at that moment, and my hand could barely keep me somewhat stable.
Without hesitation, I cast [Fire], the fireballs moving toward where I vaguely remembered the sketchbook had fallen.
[For performing a quick and efficient intelligent action, you gained 1 INT.]
I… I needed to breathe for a bit.
Brockton Bay, March 29, 5:21 PM
Something bad had happened.
When I got home, the air felt… heavy. The usual energy of the house was gone, and that was definitely the prelude to bad news.
"Thiago?" I heard my grandmother's voice from the kitchen.
"Yeah? Grandma, what's wrong?" I hurried to the kitchen, the heavy air giving me a bad feeling in my chest.
In the kitchen, my grandmother was sitting at the table, a cup in her hands. Her gaze slowly focused on me.
"..." She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, furrowing her brows as she stared directly at the coffee cup in her hands. "Thiago… can you sit down?.."
That damn feeling only spread and grew like a plague inside me. I pulled out a chair and sat at the table, every movement feeling like a rusty machine trying to move.
The words were there, stuck in my throat, ready to ask, question, and demand answers, but they just… couldn't come out.
"Son… Your mom's job is… dangerous. A lot of dangerous things happen there, and unfortunately… your mom got hurt because of it."
"How… how bad?" The desperation in my words was palpable, adding to the tension in the room.
"Very… She's going to need a lot of time to recover…"
Those words hit me like a truck. Once again today, I felt the world spinning around me. It all felt so… unfair. Why my mom? How the hell did this happen? I needed answers, and I wanted them now!
"I'm going upstairs, Grandma." I quickly got up from the chair and walked briskly toward the stairs in the living room.
She just watched me as I walked away.
I quickly passed through the hallway and opened the door to my room, heading straight to the computer and turning it on.
In the browser, the first thing I typed was "Cape fights Brockton Bay," and, unsurprisingly, I got countless results. But the most recent one was a news article from a website.
With a few clicks, I quickly started reading the article's content. However, what stood out the most was a video from someone who had been present at the scene.
It was like watching a car crash. I knew it was horrible, with a lot of destruction and even innocent people getting hurt in the middle of it all, but it was horribly hypnotic.
The first noticeable thing was the large group of black-uniformed people blocking the street—a solid formation, some using riot shields that looked strange, more robust than usual and completely black.
A little behind them, some people with grenade launchers.
Whoever was recording was at least smart enough not to cross the marked-off area with some cones and stayed far enough away.
A loud sound echoed, and the camera shook a little. The focus moved around the street before settling on a figure glowing like a literal beacon floating in the air.
Purity fired her double-helix beams at something on the ground continuously, until something was launched at high speed toward her. She moved quickly, dodging the object, but then—an explosion.
The video's view shook randomly, spinning and showing random things before going black, probably having fallen to the ground.
Even without visuals, several sounds stood out in the video—gunfire, impact sounds, and more explosions before silence took over.
The video, likely recorded on a phone, shifted quickly, focusing on random things as the person holding it said something. It then moved toward the PRT group. Everything seemed calm before another explosion happened, this time right where the agents were.
And that was the end of the video. The phone probably broke in all that. But this? The video was basically proof of where exactly my mom worked—or at least where I thought she worked. Damn it, it had to be as a PRT agent.
Everything pointed to it.
And that was horrible. The fire in my chest burned with immense energy, mixed with a tightening sensation. All I wanted to do was leave the house and go straight to the hospital. I could heal my mom right now. It would be easy, it would be simple.
But it wasn't. I had all this ability to heal her and see her smiling and well at home again, but everything that could come from that action? It was completely disheartening and made me want to scream until I was hoarse.
Coil would find out, the PRT would find out, the other gangs would probably find out, and all these people would demand answers for why this happened. I was forced to stay here, stuck, just hoping everything would turn out okay when I could simply not rely on hope.
"Shit, shit, SHIT!" I let all that anger out with a punch to the table.
It was all stupid. Stupid how all of this made me feel. Stupid how I hated feeling these bad, horrible emotions. Stupid how I wished everything could just stay static, like I preferred.
But that very thought was what it kept citing—stupid.
Everything staying static? It was idiotic to wish for that. Hating my feelings was simply idiotic, and even most of my decisions were poorly made. How could I be so smart and understand things, yet still make such bad decisions?
It was literally having the knife and the cheese.
Just looking at the damn computer screen, seeing my stupid face, the damn tears streaming from my eyes, and all the fire and fear in my eyes, I noticed how most of the things around me were just consequences. The only action I'd taken that was good and well thought out was helping Taylor with the Trio.
I just wanted to stop, let the flow of things run like a river and let the current pull me without me having to think about anything. But that's not how it worked. At some point, there would be a rock, I'd get stuck on something, or I'd just reach the end of the river.
Adapting and improving wasn't an option—it was the only way I had to survive.
And that was a bucket of cold water for me. That wave of dark sensations took over me, like a tsunami swallowing a sunny beach.
The only action I took was to stay there, drowning in my own sadness and hatred.
Spoiler: [Stats]
To everyone who thought I forgot about this fanfic, no, I didn't forget. I just had a lot of issues that urgently needed to be addressed through therapy and help from my boyfriend. On the bright side, I'm going back to writing the fanfic, and I'm doing better now.