Chapter 26 (Patreon)

The Docks, 1 PM - A Day Before the Mission.

“You sure this is the right address, Squealer?” I asked, heavy amounts of doubt clear in the low timbre of my voice. I squinted at the large, stainless steel of the dilapidated storage factory, noting the very obvious red and green Azn Bad Boi tags messily painted all along the front of the massive, run-down facility. The Docks, as always, were the centerpiece of urban decay in Brockton Bay, and it just so happened that the very last address we needed to check was basically balls-deep in ABB territory, locked behind a rusted chain-link fence that had been easily ripped open.

Why the fuck the Skidmark had thought to set up shop this close to Lung and his gang of sex-trafficking assholes beats me, but I was fairly certain that ‘drug-induced retardation’ was a major deciding factor there.

Fortunately, getting to this part of the neighborhood without gaining too much attention from the patrolling gang bangers was easy enough - my new trait, Arcane, made it so that as long as I walked with confidence and kept to the shadows, no mundane human noticed me slinking by. Sherrel was a bit of a harder case, considering the bulky, money-filled duffel tossed over her shoulders and her own lack of magical abilities, but we made it work. The Docks were home to people of all races and cultures, after all, even though Asians were significantly more prevalent in the area. With her blonde hair stuffed beneath her trucker hat and a bit of illusionary nudging from the Grey Winds, no one bothered us on the streets and no one trailed us from the shadows.

At least, none did as far as my Second Sight could see.

“It’s the street I remember. And I already told ya this earlier, big guy - call me Overdrive when we’re out doin’ shady shit. Fuckin’ hate that stupid name. Don’t know why I let Shitmark stick it to me.” ‘Overdrive’ frowned, dropping her duffel onto the glass-stained concrete and rolling her shoulders with a relieved groan. “Ahhh, fuck… that’s nice! Heh, who knew carryin’ fifty grand could be so painful, yet feel so freakin’ good?”

A stack of bills, worn and dirty but real, fell out of the bulging duffel bag on impact with the ground. I clicked my tongue, gesturing towards the cash with one golden-clawed finger. Magic heeded my will, pure Aethyr - neutral to the more conflicting Winds of Magic - coalescing around the stack and lifting it back into the duffel bag. Another minor gesture, and the bag violently zipped itself up, the zipper breaking off and skidding across the cracked concrete.

Huh. A reminder to use less force next time.

Sherrel raised an eyebrow, glancing back at me, and I offered an unrepentant smirk.

“Whoopsie. Forget about the cash for right now, Squ-... Overdrive; we’ve got bigger things to worry about, like the fact that you motherfuckers tried to set up a crackhouse right in the middle of ABB territory. What’s up with that?” I didn’t need to turn in order to scan the abandoned streets behind me. It was one in the afternoon, but the sky was as moody and cloudy as it had been yesterday, leaving the Docks beneath a dreary shade of doom and gloom. I couldn’t see anyone in the immediate area, but it was only a matter of time before we were noticed.

Overdrive shifted on her feet, her green eyes hidden behind the dark lenses of her welding goggles. It didn’t do much to hide her face, but it was… about as effective as my mask, so I couldn’t judge. A frown formed on her lips. “Like I told you, I… I really don’t know, boss. I ain’t kiddin’ when I say that I lost a lotta my life with that bastard. A lotta time, just wasted bein’ high.” She shook her head stubbornly, the frown deepening into a scowl. “But fuck him, and fuck the ABB. You ain’t scared of ‘em are ya?” There was a trace of doubt in her voice, burgeoning on disappointment.

Oh ye of little faith.

I couldn’t help it - I snorted like a bull, all hot air and amusement. “Fuck no. Lung’s strong, but he’s just a lil’ lizard before he starts rampin’ up. A Brute, sure, but I’d be damned before I let a simple Brute get me when I got-” I opened my hand, palm facing up, and the glittering, radiant head of a massive golden spear began rising out of my skin.

“Piss attacks?” Overdrive grinned, crossing her arms beneath her tits.

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly, dispersing the mana into glowing sparks with a simple clenching of my fist. “Magic, bitch. Let’s go bust some heads.”

I was itching for a fight, and that was without a Shard-given ‘conflict drive’. Most of my more powerful abilities used struggle and danger as catalysts; Heroic Aptitude and Sole Protector, to name a couple. The past four safehouses hadn’t posed any threat other than a few hobos who decided to use them as shelter. There had been one homeless guy who’d attacked Overdrive on our way out, seeing the cash we’d pulled from a loose wooden panel in one of the bedrooms, and the mechanic had liquified his ballsack with her high-heeled boots.

Could I be blamed for wanting a little bit of excitement? Maybe a little, since I’d taken out an entire Merchant drug party yesterday, but I was a motherfucking mage. I wanted to use my magic for good, and for blowing shit up.

“Sounds good to me. I have a pretty warm feelin’ about this spot, boss man!” Overdrive grunted as she tossed the duffel bag back over her shoulder. “Either we’re gonna strike gold here or I get shot in the fuckin’ skull! Sounds fun either way.”

I grinned wryly, urging the cloying Winds of Chamon to drift down away from the rundown factory and gather in my hands. “Don’t be so eager to die, dumbass - I’m liable to leave you bleedin’ out like that. Now c’mere, let’s see how much of you we can make bulletproof.”

Her eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline, and the grin on her face turned shit-eating. She practically teleported in front of me, close enough for my nose to pick up Cassie’s citrus-scented shampoo. “Now you’re speakin’ my language! Say, can ya do something with this wrench I nabbed? Mama’s not tryna be defenseless after that last asshole tried to grab me..” She pulled the bulky metal tool out of the fleshy valley between her tits like it was fucking Excalibur, and my mouth dropped open. When did she even grab that?

I swallowed, keeping my gaze even with her goggles. A crooked smile pulled at my lips.

Mind on the prize, Jay.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can make it work.”

_________________________________

The warehouse almost immediately turned into chaos after Avalon, quite literally, kicked open the corroding metal emergency exit door on the side of the building. Turned out there were ABB goons using the old Merchant joint as a base of operations, a good amount of ‘em at that, and they weren’t too happy about two capes hustling in on their territory.

The red and green-clad thugs had been posted up in the center of the warehouse, counting their ill-gained cash and cleaning guns of all shapes and sizes, while some two-bit mechanic dickhead with grease stains on his wife beater hammered away at a big ol’ F150 towards the front of the warehouse, close to the rusty overhead door that had probably been used to get the vehicle inside.

The truck looked mighty familiar, too. Like a long-lost child. She would never have been caught dead with that hideous Christmas-themed paint job, though.

The only reason why she wasn’t a fucking pin cushion of lead right now, after they’d bulldozed their way into the building, was because of her new boss’s frankly bullshit Trump powers. How did he go from rusting metal, teleportation, and summoning golden energy spears… to outright melting firearms with a sweep of his hand? Over a dozen guns, from pistols to firearms, heated to the point of glowing red and scorching flesh.

Hell, how the fuck did he manage to look so fucking gorgeous doing it?! Bullshit! She’d never even heard of any cape with such a versatile powerset. Hell, not even the Golden Boy himself, Dauntless, was able to do shit like this-

CRAAAAACK!

BOOOOM!

And he was still blowing shit up? Were those bright blue lights actual lightning?!

“F-fuck this shit, we have to call for the Boss! Call for Oni Lee! We cannot handle-”

She gritted her new, pearly white teeth. “Ya’ll ain’t callin’ nobody!”

Fuck no - overconfidence or not, the last thing she wanted was Lung putting his ugly ass lizard nose into their operation. Overdrive pushed off of the wheezing asshole she’d pulped from behind, leaving the shorter Asian man bleeding and groaning on the floor, and charged at the stumbling pussy fumbling around in his pockets. Her body felt lighter than it ever had in the past, and the 24 inch, stainless steel wrench she was gripping felt like quicksilver in her hands.

“Wait!”

CLANG.

The tool, originally meant for gripping and turning objects, made for a really fucking effective bludgeoning weapon. Overdrive stumbled forward as all of her sprinting momentum transferred directly into the goon’s chest, smashing through the tough leather of his bomber jacket and dusting the fragile bones underneath. The poor guy couldn’t even cry out in pain before he flopped backwards like a dead fish, a bloody wheeze drifting from between thin lips.

“Bitch.” Overdrive snorted, straightening her back and stomping on his cellphone. Broken circuitry and plastic scattered across the concrete floor. “Heh, two down. This shit’s too easy-”

There was the sound of footsteps rushing behind her, and her ears twitched.

“Move!”

She found herself tossing her body to the side before her brain even managed to catch up with her actions. Heart racing and adrenaline sending shivers down her spine, Overdrive flipped over and brandished her wrench defensively - only to pause and gape at the sight of another thug, this one much bigger and muscular than the two she’d beamed with her wrench, staring down at her with wide, redshot eyes. A familiar golden spear, large and majestic, bore completely through his stomach, the wicked head of the glowing weapon extending out past his body by at least three or four feet. If she’d stayed where she was, the spear would have pierced through her as well

A large metal pipe dropped to the floor, making a loud, metallic ‘clang’. The thug’s body followed it right after.

She swallowed thickly, conflicting emotions dizzying her brain. Relief and gratitude were at the forefront.

“Gettin’ cocky during a fight ain’t good for your health,” Avalon commented, casually stepping over the fallen body like it was a small puddle of water. As he passed by it, the golden spear disappeared into motes of light, washing away in the stale, silent air of the warehouse. He offered her a gauntlet-clad hand, and Overdrive took it.

“I coulda handled it!” she replied defensively, the words feeling plastic and clumsy even to her. “But… thanks I guess, boss man. You, uh - took out the rest of ‘em?”

Avalon didn’t respond, his one visible, lidded eye drifting down to the bloodied wrench still gripped in her right hand. After one or two quiet seconds, he turned his gaze back up to meet hers and smiled that easy, devil-may-cry smile that, without fail, managed to make her fucking heart race like she was some virgin teenager again. Why the hell did his powers decide that he needed to look so freakin’ perfect?!

When he didn’t respond for another moment, Overdrive almost tore her hand out of his in frustration. She was almost one hundred percent certain that her cheeks were turning red, and mama was not supposed to be the one blushing-

“They’re just sleepin’,” he snorted, letting go of her hand and gesturing to the chaotic scene behind him. While she had gone for the shitty mechanic and the snitch, Avalon had dove right into the middle of the action. Neither of them had time to count just how many gang bangers were occupying the warehouse, but there had to have at least been a little over a dozen.

Which meant that the boss had taken out ten of ‘em. Shit.

Bodies, smoking and spasming and bleeding - but still alive, if barely - littered the floor of the warehouse like unwanted, discarded toys. The large metal table they’d been counting money on was embedded halfway into the rusted metal wall of the building, and some poor guy was dangling from the second story catwalk by his ankles - which were skewered into the metal with a particularly shiny spear.

Overdrive gave Avalon a deadpan stare. “You sure they’re all alive, big guy? ‘Cause bein' a vegetable is hardly a way to live your life.”

He tilted his head, the insufferably handsome smirk on his lips growing more amused. “Says the chick who beamed a guy in the back of the skull with an enchanted wrench. Now he’s gonna have lingering brain damage.”

She sniffed. “Fucker deserved it. Doin’ that to such a fine vehicle should be considered a fuckin’ war crime.”

“You don’t like a lil’ bit of late Christmas cheer?”

The affronted glare she shot at him was answer enough, and the boy - no, man chuckled. It was a deep, warming sound.

“Touchy. Look around for the keys and grab anything that looks useful. I’m gonna tie these assholes up before we dip.” He ordered, turning back to the assortment of fucked-up bodies and letting out a bored sigh. “They didn’t manage to call anybody, but I kinda popped off a lil’ bit, made a lotta noise. The PRT’s not gonna come this deep into ABB territory just for loud noises, so either Lung or Oni Lee’s prolly gonna be here soon.”

Her right arm suddenly sagged, and Overdrive grunted, clenching her fist tighter around her wrench. Whatever Striker power he gave it to hit harder and weigh less had apparently worn off, because her sore muscles were starting to whine at her. It wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, though, so Overdrive shouldered the oversized tool and gave a sarcastic salute with her free hand.

“Aye aye, boss! Was thinkin’ of taking the truck anyway… I think it used to be mine. At least before they stripped him of his fuckin’ dignity.” She scowled in disgust. Truly, how fucking dare they?!

Avalon waved her off, walking towards the unconscious bodies. He didn’t bother stepping over the thug this time, opting to use the man’s back as a stepping stone. “Even better. Hopefully they didn’t fuck with your stuff too much. Let’s make this quick, ‘ight?”

Overdrive nodded her head and dropped the salute. An eager grin began forming on her blood-flecked face. “Fuck yeah. Don’t worry, baby, momma’s got you!” She turned on her heel and ran for the unfortunately-painted F150. Paint jobs were temporary, but hardware was forever - and she would turn this thing into a god-damned masterpiece.

All she had to do was find the fucking keys.

The thought of hot-wiring one of her children felt… icky.

________________________________________

2:30 PM, The Trainyard.

“Country Rooooads, take me homeeee… to the plaaaace, I beloooong~!”

The staticy hum of the old-school radio, combined with Overdrive’s surprisingly pleasant singing voice, made for a warm and enjoyable experience as the truck shuddered and thudded along the decaying, crater-filled road. Downtown was pretty much the ‘peak’ of prosperity for the Bay, and the roads there were already pretty damn bad. With how far North of the Docks we were at this point, ‘dilapidated’ was the only real way to describe just how shitty things got. I wasn’t even exaggerating either, it was really bad. Like, live action The Last of Us bad.

Hobos were living out of abandoned boxcars and roasting fucking rats, for god’s sake. And Overdrive was just happily singing along to John Denver, not at all perturbed by how far society has fallen on Earth Bet.

What a shitty fucking world.

‘I guess this is what happens when taxes go towards repairing fuckin’ kaiju attacks every three months.’

“Pull up there,” I murmured quietly, nodding my head towards a particularly wide looking shipping container that we were beginning to drive past. A couple of hoodlums were loitering around the opened entrance, hands in the pockets of their ratty hoodies and coats, but they moved out of the way as soon as they recognized the colors on the truck. That familiarity wasn’t a good thing, considering it could trickle down to the ABB and bring attention up to us, but it wasn’t like we could do much about it right now.

One thing at a time.

“My home far awayyy- oh, shit! Alright, hold on big guy.”

Overdrive shifted in her seat, one hand going down to the stick-shift and the other twisting the leather steering wheel. The truck growled, debris and dust blasting from the bulky wheels as she made a bee-line for the container. I gripped the grab handle above the window, keeping myself steady as my minion/partner performed an on-the-spot 180 degree turn and jetted straight through the opening.

The truck came to an abrupt halt perfectly in the middle of the container, and the abrupt stop sent me and the grinning Overdrive flying forward a bit.

I let out an impressed grunt. “Nice handles, OD.”

“Heh, thanks bos- wait, the fuck did you just call me-?!”

Chuckling, I hopped out of the truck before the annoyed woman could scream my ears off. It was a tight fit, but I’d eyeballed the dimensions accurately - we had just enough room to move around the truck, crank it up, and get some good work done without dying of claustrophobia. It was unfortunate that the only real lightsource in the container was coming from outside, but that wasn’t much of a problem when you had the Elemental Wind of Light on your side.

Calling a bright, luminescent orb of magical light was as simple as rotating Hysh into a sphere and pushing it towards the ceiling like a disco ball. The shadows of the shipping containers were extinguished beneath the radiant glow, revealing a grungy, garbage-littered environment that looked distinctively lived in. Further down the container, a brown-stained cot was folded up amongst cigarette butts and crinkled beer cans.

I wrinkled my nose. “Gross-”

But, all of a sudden, a celestial light shone brightly in my soul.

Immutable Form (Mood Boobs - 600 CP): It’s reassuring to know that at the end of the day, you’ll still be you.

This perk offers three benefits: Firstly, your body has been fortified against alteration. Your physical form cannot be twisted, changed, or mutated by any power, mundane or supernatural, without your consent. Any changes you do allow won’t harm or hinder you, so there’s no need to worry about running that marathon, even if you’ve now got two watermelons stuck to your chest.

Second, your identity has been similarly safeguarded. You are a cosmic blank, immune to psychic mind control, magical possession, memory tampering, or any other force that would change who you are. With a mind and soul beyond corruption, never fear for your personhood.

Finally, you’ve gained a strange knack for holding onto any physical alterations or effects that you find agreeable. Even temporary modifications can be clung to as you “pause the expiration timer”, so to speak. And should a desirable effect or alteration ever expire, you can recall it on command. Make each change to your body your own as you build a library of variations and transformations.

I paused, looking inwards as a grumbling Overdrive slammed her door shut and circled around to the cargo bed of the truck.

My first thought was ‘Holy shit’, because the effects of the perk on a defensive level was incredible. I wasn’t worried or scared of Amy Dallon of all people modifying my body - and speaking of Amy, I had a few texts from her that I had to check soon - but there were other evil assholes I definitely didn’t want experimenting on me; I’m looking at you, Bonesaw. Even more important than that, of course, was the immunity to mental and spiritual manipulation.

Now that… that had me grinning like a fucking cat that caught the canary.

The Simurgh had always been that nightmare lurking in the back of my mind. All of the Endbringers kinda were, actually, considering the fact that they were basically this world’s versions of kaiju-sized natural disasters, but Ziz was a different breed of ‘bullshit fuckery’. I couldn’t know for sure, but I was pretty confident that Eyes See All or None protected me from her pre/post cognitive abilities. I wasn’t willing to risk everything on the bet that it somehow saved me from getting my brain meat flipped and scrambled by the giant angel’s screams, though, so the security in knowing that Immutable Form had my back in that regard was big.

The charge that accepting the perk would take, I could feel, was immense, but my soul was feeling pretty swollen - I probably had a decent amount of ‘celestial energy’ to spare, and I’d never been one for saving money if I had it.

My second thought, of course, was ‘The fuck do they mean by watermelons?’

And then I thought about the name of the perk, and my furrowed brow smoothed out.

‘Best not think about the ‘verses you’re gettin’ this shit from, Jay.’

So I just accepted it. Yoink.

It settled down deep within my soul, alongside larger motes of light such as Heroic Aptitude and Sole Protector. The feeling it gave me was warm, a sense of comfort and security, and I felt satisfied in the knowledge that I was that much more annoying to fuck over. It was almost poetic; wasn’t I just freaking out about magic changing who I was?

Fortunately that didn’t seem like something I had to worry about anymore.

“Aye, boss man! Are you gonna help me out with this raggedy ass workshop or are you tryna watch me break my fuckin’ spine? Momma’s not weak, but this shit’s heavier than a pair of bull nuts!”

Overdrive let out a loud grunt, both of her gloved hands occupied with maneuvering a large, bulky toolbox out the back of the truck. In the minute or two of me parsing my newest gift from ol’ Grimmy, she’d already unloaded the trolley jack, an oil-stained tarp that she’d stationed beneath the truck, and a cardboard box of other miscellaneous shit that we managed to scrape together at the ABB’s warehouse.

“Don’t pull a hammy old lady,” I smirked, moving forward to take the toolbox out of her shaking hands. She pouted when I manhandled it with casual ease, but the pout was almost instantly replaced by an amused grin after I tossed the toolbox in the air and smoothly guided it towards the tarp with my bootleg telekinesis. It was hella difficult, actually, but I forced my face to stay composed so it looked easy.

There was no way I was folding in front of the hoes.

“Fucking show-off. Here, help me move this too. And let’s stretch this back here - I like havin’ extra space for my girlies to breathe when I’m under the hood, if you know what I mean.”

“... Yep. You’re comin’ onto me, right?”

“Hah, shut up! So freakin’ cocky…”

I didn’t even bother pretending to know my way around vehicle maintenance - I knew better than to manspread my egg-headedness all over an expert’s territory, and Overdrive was infinitely more knowledgeable than I was when it came to anything loud and fast… other than sex, prolly. Over the next hour or so, I acted mainly as her ‘magical little helper’, unloading the rest of the shit out of the truck and cleaning the garbage and hobo stink out of the shipping container with heavy doses of Cleansing Glow.

Even the cot in the back was thoroughly cleaned with Light Magic. The mattress actually looked white again, for the first time in who knows how long.

By the end of my impromptu maid service, the shipping container actually looked like a pretty respectable garage, if a little on the smaller side. I’d closed the entrance after dusting out all the refuse, dimmed the eye-searing brightness of my magical ball of Hysh, and even had some lame ass country song that Overdrive enjoyed playing through the bluetooth of the truck.

I had tried to argue for some R&B, but she’d vetoed it immediately. Her reasoning? ’Cause seeing you lookin’ like that with sex music playin’ won’t be good for my productivity’.

Bullshit, but the Texan knew how to hit falsetto notes so I wasn’t too mad at the song choice.

We were just getting through the third song in David Flat’s latest album when a loud, thunderous knock slammed against the entrance of the shipping container.

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

There was the sound of bone smacking against metal from beneath the F150, and Overdrive let out a sharp and violent ‘fuck’. There was a lot of passion and spite behind the exclamation, and the sheer venom in her voice was almost as jarring as the annoying motherfucker rapping on the door.

I glanced up from my freshly Infused mask, a bemused arch to my brow. “You order pizza delivery? ‘Cuz I was prolly gonna go grab some food soon. Ya boy’s gettin’ ravenous.”

There was another loud knock at the entrance, and Overdrive’s face popped up over the hood of the tacky F150. There was a smear of black oil smeared across the bridge of her nose, and a bright red bump shone proudly on her forehead.

She scowled, and I just knew that she was glaring at me through her welding goggles. “I don’t have a god damned phone, Avalon. Punch whoever the fuck that is in the nuts, please and thank you. Bastard almost made me break the energy capacitor! That shit's really freakin' fragile engineering, all mottled glass and complicated ass circuitry...” And now she was staring at me expectantly, like I was supposed to share in her annoyance.

I blinked.

“... Yeahhh, don’t know what that shit is toots.”

Her cheek twitched. “Oh you motherfuckin’ dickhead-”

I slid my phone into my pocket, placed my mask back onto my face, and disappeared from where I’d been reclining back on the freshly-cleaned cot. I appeared right at the entrance of the shipping container, where I briefly paused to go through my options.

On one hand, our guest could be Lung. Considering we had just recently kicked the ass of some of his thugs, it wouldn’t have been too surprising.

However, Lung was violent and destructive. If he knew that we were holed up in this shipping container in particular, he probably would have torched us inside of it like fucking sardines.

On the other hand, it could simply be the original ‘home’ owner. We had taken over the spot like pilgrims sniffing out fertile land, after all, and I’d probably be pissed if I came home only to be locked out with no keys.

There were so many options, but so little time. A few different spells flew through my brain - spells that would help me in a face-to-face confrontation with a potentially unknown cape.

But then, I remembered the breakthrough I’d just had whilst listening to David Flat's A Lady’s Foil, only fifteen minutes ago.

Infusion was an eye-opening and, quite frankly, exciting process. By forcing my magic into an object and coating its entirety with mana, I could infuse permanent enchantments into basically anything I wanted - within reason. The quality of the object was extremely important, as well-maintained and higher quality craftsmanship allowed for higher mana expenditure, which wrapped all the way around to the Infusion having a stronger effect. The effect was random, based entirely on what object I was Infusing, but that didn’t bother me one bit.

Life was a fucking gamble, and the RNG Gods saw fit to bless me with fortune today.

Mask of the Tarnished Hero (Rare)

Infusion: When worn, this well-crafted venetian mask grants the wearer significantly enhanced reflexes and reaction time. Additionally, the wearer is impossible to ambush in combat.

What better way to test out the new digs than having a pleasant, totally non-confrontational conversation with the new neighbors?

KNOCK!

KNOCK!

“Boss-”

“I got it, relax. Just keep workin’.”

Bending down, I unlatched the lock, gripped the handle, and with a grunt of exertion and a breath of Aqshy - pulled the heavy ass metal door up in one sharp yank. There was the raucous clangor of steel retracting into steel, a violent noise that clashed with the soft country music still playing from the truck behind me, before the container was fully open.

I found myself staring up into the acne-scarred face of what could only be described as the ultimate hobo cyborg, complete with oversized metal scrap as power armor and welding goggles that were a size or two too small for his swollen, bulbous head. A greasy ponytail hung limply from the back of his neck, and the nauseating scent coming from his body explained the lack of shampoo and conditioner.

I didn’t recognize him, which, while not scary, wasn’t the best thing in the world.

“Yo,” I greeted him, my tone cool and laidback as I offered the scowling man a smile. “If this is your crib, I gotta say bro - I busted my ass gettin’ it back in sha-”

Warning bells.

My face was warm.

It wasn’t until I felt my head already juking to the side that I came to the realization that the ugly motherfucker had just swung a barrel-sized fist directly at my comparatively squishy face, and with that realization came annoyance and vindictiveness.

My reflexes and speed were already good with Heroic Aptitude, Superior Being, and the Winds of Magic all working in tandem to empower me. In my natural state, without casting any buffing spells, I pretty much surpassed what any mundane human could put out. And all of that wasn’t even me trying to gas myself up to seem badass.

With the Infusion on my mask, though? My body felt fucking different.

I pivoted on my feet, ducking around the bulky shell of the asshole’s armor and stomping down on the back of his knee viciously with my left foot. The gunmetal gray material there was thinner, probably to give him some semblance of flexibility.

Too bad for him.

“Shit!” The armored man swore angrily as he fell to one knee with a loud ‘clank’, his cumbersome fists rising to grab at my coat - but I had just leapfrogged over his greasy head to get back into my previous position, albeit with my back facing him. There was a second of confusion where he tried to keep up with the speed and spontaneity of my agile movements, but I wasn’t giving him that reprieve. Dense mana, rich and heavy and golden enveloped my right leg, and a sound like a fucking shotgun going off tore through the shipping container as I rocketed my foot backwards against the armored man’s chest plate in a magic-empowered mule kick.

“URK-!”

BOOM!

Through my Second Sight, I watched as the towering fucker went skidding across the cracked pavement, his metal armor making a shrill screeching sound as it grinded against stone and rubble. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel the sensation of bones breaking on impact.

Enemy’s knee joint is hollow. Enemy has no bones. The limbs of the enemy’s armor is empty.

Huh. Weird.

Slowly, I lowered my leg.

“... D’you, y’know-” Overdrive spoke up hesitantly, her oversized wrench gripped in both hands. “You need help kickin’ him in the balls, boss man? I go high, you go low - hit ‘em with the PB&J.”

She smacked the wrench into her palm a couple times for emphasis.

I straightened up, a roguish grin forming on my lips.

“Nah, I got him.” I replied, turning around to watch the armored man. Steam was beginning to vent out the large pipes on his back, intermingling with the black smog venting out of his rusty gauntlets. He screamed, a hoarse and angry sound, and slammed his gauntlets against the ground.

I’d kicked him about fifty feet away, but I could still see the spiderweb cracks that formed in the concrete from his mini hissy fit. Some sort of strength enhancement, powered by the shame of getting his ass kicked? Interesting.

I took a step out of the shipping container before glancing back at the cautious Overdrive.

“Just shut the door behind me. Oh, and use my phone to order some pizza. This shouldn’t take too long.”

And as the trainwreck of a man shoved himself to his feet, slamming his knuckles together, I summoned the beautifully-designed death that was my Armament. Mana lit the massive spear ablaze in a golden aura, warping the air around the deadly weapon.

The man eyed my spear with a disgusted sneer that revealed gapped, yellowing teeth. “You and yer whore’s in my fuckin’ house, pretty boy. Don’t think that lil’ sissy ass spear is gonna work against my-”

“Chill with the talkin’, bitch,” I cut him off, holding the Armament one-handed and pointing it directly at his neck. “If you’re feelin’ froggy then go ahead and jump. You already look like a fucking toad.”

His face turned scarlet with anger, and without saying another word, the man charged at me like a rampaging bull.

I clicked my tongue. ‘Wonder how fucked up he is beneath all that armor.’

And without another thought, I teleported forward.

________________________________________

Perks Accepted:

Immutable Form (Mood Boobs - 600 CP): It’s reassuring to know that at the end of the day, you’ll still be you.

This perk offers three benefits: Firstly, your body has been fortified against alteration. Your physical form cannot be twisted, changed, or mutated by any power, mundane or supernatural, without your consent. Any changes you do allow won’t harm or hinder you, so there’s no need to worry about running that marathon, even if you’ve now got two watermelons stuck to your chest.

Second, your identity has been similarly safeguarded. You are a cosmic blank, immune to psychic mind control, magical possession, memory tampering, or any other force that would change who you are. With a mind and soul beyond corruption, never fear for your personhood.

Finally, you’ve gained a strange knack for holding onto any physical alterations or effects that you find agreeable. Even temporary modifications can be clung to as you “pause the expiration timer”, so to speak. And should a desirable effect or alteration ever expire, you can recall it on command. Make each change to your body your own as you build a library of variations and transformations.

800 CP remaining.

OOC:

Yes, that is Trainwreck at the end. No, Avalon won't kill him. He won't recruit him or anything, but... I mean, they did just steal his home. Cleaned it up, sure, but ehhh - it is what it is.

Will Avalon make friends with him? Invite him in for some tinkering? Ask him to allow them to stay there and tinker? Hmmmm...

Also, really good roll here - that's our first 600 CP perk I think. It's funny; I had just mentioned to someone that something to resist Master powers would be nice, and then I roll this.

And yes, the last portion of the perk is something that Jason didn't put much stock into, having been so focused on the anti-mastering portion. That doesn't mean the last portion isn't hella fucking good, though. He'll just have to find out about it accidentally.