Chapter 27 (Patreon)

Hillside Mall, 3:40 PM

“Ames, are you sureee you don’t wanna stop by Victoria’s Secret? Get you some facial cream? Exfoliation gel? Ferulic-based serums?” Victoria’s voice was casual, almost playful in its whimsy, as she hummed along to the Katy Perry song playing from the mall’s overhead speakers.

There was a pause, and she watched amusedly as the scowling, heavily-freckled girl snapped her head up from her phone to shoot blunted daggers at her. Whatever heat she thought was contained in the glare was completely stifled by the way her left hand subconsciously drifted up to touch her chin.

Her cute little face was as smooth as a baby’s butt, of course; she’d never had problems with acne or pimples, so the fact that she was suddenly so worried about it was just more proof to add to the notebook.

Amy had a cruu~uush! It was the only logical explanation!

“I already told you no, Vicky,” Amy dropped her hand, a self-conscious frown forming on her lips. “Why the heck do you keep asking me? I thought we were going to meet with Dean and Crystal, not go deep-diving for stupid beauty products.”

Victoria rolled her eyes, bumping her elbow lightly into her sister’s side. “Because,” she smirked, lowering her voice into a stage whisper, “You’ve been glaring holes into your cell phone all day, Amy. Like, actual holes. I don’t want my precious little sis getting forehead wrinkles at seventeen!”

As expected, just like yesterday evening when she’d showed up at home soaking wet at 1 AM, the denial came quick and vehement.

“First off, I wasn’t glaring at my phone. I was just… waiting for a text. From a friend.”

The end of the annoyed statement was muttered in a low grumble, and Victoria latched onto it like a lifeline.

“A text from a friend, hmmm?” she pondered aloud, bringing her finger up to tap idly on her chin. “Huh. Could it be from the same guy that dropped you off last night?”

Amy’s cheeks reddened, and the girl halted in her tracks, the hand gripping her phone tightening until the knuckles turned white. For most people, the redness on her cheeks would’ve only been a slight flush, but for a girl with skin as fair as hers, it radiated outwards like a particularly vengeful sunburn. “H-he didn’t drop me off! Or, not he but they didn’t- no one dropped me off or gave me their- ugh, fuck you Vicky. Like I said, he’s just a friend.”

‘Bingo!’

A cheshire-like grin formed on Vicky’s gloss-covered lips. Amy’s reaction was damning enough to confirm everything, but Victoria had to admit - teasing the overworked healer was just plain ole’ fun. It was practically impossible to get her all flustered and embarrassed over guys, and at some point she had honestly started to entertain the thought that Amy was just gay. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, of course; lesbians were fucking awesome, and Legend was one of her biggest idols!

Still, it was just nice to see her sister actually interested in teenage stuff for once, without her needing to badger the girl into double dates. The thought made her heart glow with warmth.

“I freaking knew it!” Victoria cheered, darting forward faster than the normal eye could perceive and wrapping her arms around Amy’s shoulders. One tug later and the smaller girl was being hugged and squeezed like a grumpy teddy bear, though she made sure to keep her strength to ‘slight suffocation’ rather than outright organ failure.

Her questions came out in one long, excited breath. “Oh. My. God. You have to tell me everything about this mystery guy! Where’d you meet him?! Wait, duh - the hospital, right? Cute guys don’t really approach you at school, you’re too cool for them. Is he an RN? A doctor? Oooh, a patient?!”

Fellow mall-goers were starting to stare and gawk at them, but Victoria was too excited and curious to spare them any mind. The gossip mill in Brockton Bay was already ridiculous, and no amount of hiding or shying away would stop PHO simps from finding some way to take a pic or spread rumors about her, in-costume or not. It was why ‘Glory Girl’ trended on the Brockton Bay subforums almost weekly, contending even with the ‘Avalon x Purity’ tag that had skyrocketed recently.

She didn’t give a fuck about the attention, but Amy clearly did.

“Vic, stop making a scene and I’ll tell you!” she hissed, smacking her palms into Victoria’s side. Her hands bounced right off of her forcefield, of course, feeling more like a soft tickle, but Victoria recognized the ‘attack’ for what it was.

Pouting, she loosened her embrace.

Amy sighed like she’d been holding her breath through the entire hug, taking a shaky step back and looking away. Her cheeks were still red, but it was hard to tell whether that was from annoyance, embarrassment, or anxiety. She glanced around, noticing the onlookers, and the pervading attention made her practically sink down into her hoodie like a turtle in its shell.

Guilt began to curdle in the pit of her tummy, and Victoria clicked her teeth. “Ames… hold on, I got this.”

Right!

Damage control!

She snapped her head over to the group of teenage boys who’d stopped to stare and whisper to each other with smarmy grins on their faces. Her pout promptly turned into a scowl, and Victoria took a threatening step forward in her high-top pink sneakers. Gaslight mode, activated!

“Get the fuck outta here, pervs! Can’t a girl hug her sister in peace without you jerking your chodes?!” she shouted, unbothered by the way that her aura licked out and swatted a little bit of fear at the nosy weirdos. “Honestly, the nerves of some people. Makes me feel a little scared to go out in public. Brrr.” She did a full body shiver and cringed to add insult to injury.

They reacted as all weak-willed cowards did when they realized that they were in the wrong - stuttered apologies and hasty retreats. Victoria watched them go with a narrowed, severe stare, and flicked silky locks of blonde hair over her shoulder victoriously when the other eavesdropping civvies in the area surreptitiously began going about their business once more.

Glory Girl one, nosy assholes zero!

Victoria turned back to Amy, forcing a cheerful, dazzling grin on her face. There was no way she was allowing a bit of social anxiety to ruin a pleasant day out. “There we go, nice and easy - er, sorry about being so pushy before. You know how excited I can get about this kinda stuff.”

Though she was still reticent, Amy offered a small, wry smile. “Unfortunately. It’s fine, Vicky… let’s just get outta here, find a table or something before you end up getting into a fistfight.”

Her forced grin turned genuine, and a giggle escaped Victoria’s chest. ”How about we head over to the food court, go get some cheesy fries and parfaits from Moriarty’s before meeting up with the others? You can tell me all about Mr. Mystery Man on the way.”

Amy paused. “… Cheesy fries sound pretty good right now.”

“Hell yeah they do,” Victoria fist-pumped, flying forward in a blur to wrap her arm around Amy’s. The smaller girl didn’t yank away or complain when she began pulling her towards the Food Court, and Victoria saw that as a major win. “Now, the most important piece of the puzzle first: The name! Let me guess; something nerdy and cute, like… Reggie? Fred? Oh god, George?”

The heat in her cheeks had all but faded, and Amy made her disgust known with the sneer that wrinkled her button nose. “Seriously Vicky, George? And why would he have to be a ‘nerd’? I could like cool guys… n-not that we’re dating-“

Victoria snapped her fingers loudly, interrupting the healer. “I got it! Jeffrey!”

“Ugh. No.”

“Johnathan!”

“Stop.”

“Joseph.”

“Why the hell are you only saying names starting with J-“

A bulb flashed bright in her mind. “Ooh, Jason?”

“…”

Amy went suspiciously silent, and Victoria chortled with triumph. “My big sister senses are never wrong, foolish Amelia. Now tell me more about this ‘Jason’! Is he cute?” They were getting closer to the recently remodeled food court, which had recovered quite well since Avalon’s public dismantling of Hookwolf, so Victoria began shortening her long-legged strides.

Knowing her sister, Amy would use the cheesy fries as an excuse to clam up and chow down. That could not happen!

“Do not call me Amelia, Vic. You know I hate my government name,” Amy glared, though the slow smile forming on her lips betrayed her amusement. “And… I don’t know? He’s not really… cute, I don’t think. He-” Something flashed across her freckled face, and the healer’s cheeks warmed up again.

Victoria wanted to squee.

“He ‘glowed up’ recently, so I guess he’d be considered ‘hot’? God, this is fucking embarrassing. Boy talk is gross.”

Oh, now her interest was close to bursting. “A beefcake, huh? Didn’t think you had it in ya, sis! Snuck any pics? A selfie or something?” Smirking sleazily, Victoria made a half-serious swipe towards Amy’s phone with her free hand, and she jerked it away in a surprising burst of speed.

“Stop that. And no? When the heck would I have had time to take a picture? I was working when I met him.”

Victoria’s eyes glinted triumphantly. “Aha! So he is a nurse! Or doctor. Crap, or a patient…?”

“None of the above. He had a- actually, that’s none of your beeswax, Vicky! Non-disclosure agreements can’t be broken because of nosy siblings.”

“Huh? Aren’t NDAs for licensed physicians, though?”

Amy scowled, and this time it fully met her eyes. “I still swore in to-”

BZZZT.

BZZZT.

The phone was almost tossed from the intensity in which Amy brought it to her face. Overwhelming curiosity about this ‘mystery hottie’ burning a hole in her stomach, Victoria craned her neck in a subtle attempt to catch a glimpse at the screen.

All she managed to catch was ‘usy kicking ass lmfa-’ before Amy’s jittery fingers mindlessly clicked on an attachment link, and suddenly boobs were in their face.

“... W-woah.”

“Holy shit, those are some fucking melons!”

Amy’s doe-like eyes slowly, almost fearfully slid towards her older sister’s suddenly too-close face, but before she could panic and dart away to hide her phone, Victoria plucked it out of her hand in a blur of superhuman dexterity.

“Vicky!” she hissed in embarrassment, face turning crimson.

Victoria distractedly twirled around Amy’s clumsy lunge, her attention focused almost entirely on the picture taking up the entirety of the phone screen.

It wasn’t just a boob pic, her tits were just the biggest things in the photo, and thus the most immediately eye-catching.

No, the picture was a cheeky selfie from an outrageously hot blonde woman, probably in her mid to late twenties, wearing nothing but an orange bra, yellow jacket, and a red trucker hat. She was oil-smeared and messy, but there was a wide, happy grin on her face as she flipped the camera off.

More importantly, however, was the scuffle happening in the background.

Victoria gaped, crystal blue eyes almost bugging out of her skull. Words couldn’t even begin to describe the conflicting cocktail of emotions flowing through her body. Confusion, shock, awe, concern, curiosity, and something else? Something that felt… bad, like a sinking in her chest. Anxiety? Worry? Whatever it was, she didn’t like it.

“... Ames,” she said quietly, her voice turning uncharacteristically serious. “Why the hell is Avalon in your contacts? And why is he beating some Tinker with his own arm?! Who even is that?”

Amy went to snatch her phone back in a hurry, and Victoria, in her stupor, numbly let it go. After a few seconds of studying the picture, she let out a low, suffering sigh.

“He’s a fucking idiot.” she replied simply, furiously typing something into the phone. As soon as she sent the text, it buzzed again. Whoever the blonde woman was was clearly fast with her fingers.

“That- that doesn’t answer literally anything.” Victoria deadpanned, taking a step closer. When Amy flinched back, moving her phone towards the pocket of her hoodie, Victoria raised her hands. “Not taking your phone. Promise. Just… just tell me what’s going on, Ames. Is Avalon your new boyfriend?”

Amy rolled her eyes, an annoyed frown appearing on her face. “God, Vicky, I already said no! He’s just a friend.”

“Yeah, ‘just a friend’ that just so happens to be the cape that whooped Hookwolf’s ass, and is apparently de-arming some guy in a big ass suit of armor as we fucking speak,” she shot back in a harsh, heated whisper.

“...”

The annoyance in Amy’s frown melted down into something more fragile, and Victoria cursed herself in her own head. She wasn’t angry or annoyed, of course. Who Amy decided to hang out with or crush on was completely and utterly her business, and Avalon was a certified fucking hero - any guy that took the fight to the nazis deserved that title in her honest, outspoken opinion.

She just felt… not betrayed, but left completely and utterly out the loop?

If Amy’s crush had been some random nurse or a cute guy from Arcadia who sprained his ankle and ended up being her patient, she wouldn’t have minded being left out of the loop for a while. Relationships took time to build up, and it was completely up to Amy to tell her when she was ready.

But Avalon wasn’t just some random teenager. He had been her obsession for days, embarrassingly enough. Tall, dark, and handsome, with that majestic sorcerer vibe that reminded her of something straight from a fantasy book! After hearing about his fight with Hookwolf, doing some digging online, and then actually watching him in action on his PHO thread… well, she had started fantasizing about patrolling with him, fighting the Empire side-by-side.

If he was a ‘sorcerer’ by geeky fantasy terms, then wouldn’t she be the ‘paladin’? It was freaking perfect.

And then real life happened, twenty four hours passed, Dean apologized to her for whatever the hell they’d been fighting about over the past couple weeks, and she’d moved forward. It wasn’t like Avalon was active on PHO, and her messages to the ‘Avalon’ account with the blank profile picture hadn’t even been read.

Now, though? Knowing that her sister was friends with him, had his contact info, and - she was 99 percent sure - was sporting a puppy crush?

It… irked. Screw what she’d thought before - it wasn’t anxiety she was feeling, it was jealousy. She was jealous, which was horrible because Amy was her precious little sister. Plus, she had a boyfriend she loved with all of her being. Dean was great! His voice was kinda reedy, and he wasn’t very tall, and he didn’t ditch patrols to go fuck up nazis with her… but he was nice! He was safe.

Victoria breathed out, slow and steady, and the minty scent of her bubblegum mouthwash cleared her tumultuous thoughts. Amy had a new, super cool friend, and she would support her no matter what! And if she became friends with him as well, and received a sparring and patrol partner out of it, then that was just icing on the cake, right?

It wasn’t like she was the one with the crush.

“I’m sorry, Ames,” Victoria apologized, genuine regret coating her words. “I kinda got thrown really off there, and blew my lid. I didn’t mean to scream at you.”

“...” Amy pocketed her phone, watching her with an unreadable expression on her face. After an uncomfortable second, she let a harsh breath out through her nostrils. “You didn’t scream, dummy. And apology accepted. Can we just go get the cheesy fries, please? Jason- or, uh, Aval-... fuck, secret identity. Don’t-”

“Lips sealed. Scout’s Honor.” Victoria promised, zipping her fingers across her smiling lips.

Amy sighed again. “Thanks. Anyways, he apparently pissed someone off near the Docks and had to, uh… ‘show him who’s boss’. The guy apparently doesn’t have actual, flesh and blood extremities. No idea how that works, but…” she trailed off into a grumble, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets and kicking the polished linoleum floor.

Victoria shrugged helplessly. “Screw it, then. It looked like he had it all under control, what with the mechanical dismemberment.” she commented casually, continuing their slow trek to the food court. “Who was the woman in the selfie, though? She kinda looked like some type of mechanic.” The question was innocent enough, but Victoria couldn’t keep herself from side-eyeing her little sister as she pondered how best to answer.

It wasn’t until they were halfway across the food court and approaching Moriarty’s kiosk that Amy answered. “... I think he called her his ‘minion’.” she said quietly, markedly not meeting Victoria’s gaze.

Victoria blinked. “What? Like, she’s the ‘evil villain mastermind’ kind of minion?”

“Vic, Avalon’s a hero.” Amy shot back matter-of-factly, like she was an idiot for even insinuating anything but.

“Yeah, okay, but- … they’re not dating or anything, right?”

“Huh.”

Victoria back-tracked immediately, stammering in her haste to defend herself. “N-no, listen! I’m just looking out for your best interests, Amy! Did you see the size of her tits?! I bet she has a super shapely butt, too. Beautiful women like her are usually the full package.”

“Vicky! I- I’m not into girls, and I’m definitely not into her.”

Minor panic quickly faded into amusement, and Victoria laughed out loud, slinging an arm over Amy’s shoulders in an affectionate half-hug.

“Yeah riiiight. Two crushes in one, eh? You sure work fast, Amelia Dallon!”

“Oh, you can fuck right off.”

Yep - today was going to be a good day after all!

____________________________________

The Trainyard, 4 PM

“Achoo!”

I sneezed viciously into my elbow, a groan escaping my mouth as I held back the urge to sniffle snot like a fucking baby. The bulky, oversized robot-hobo restrained beneath me growled and spat like a wild animal, squirming violently in a useless attempt to escape the heavy duty, magically-enhanced chains binding him down, but I merely applied more pressure to the back of his head, keeping his face pressed against the dirt.

“Fuck, someone must be talking ‘bout me…”

Overdrive, who’d ignored my orders and ventured outside once the sound of asskicking died down, was busy typing away at my phone like a iPad baby. At my offhanded comment, she glanced over with a lazy, gleaming grin. “Was just tellin’ ole’ Mousy about our current activities, boss. She texted back instantly, by the way! Shame on you - leavin’ such a cute girl on Read should be a criminal offense.”

I blinked. That was probably why she had been taking selfies with our little scuffle in the background like the Trainyard was a Denny’s parking lot. Should I have been concerned?

… Eh, not really. Amy wasn’t the type to freak out over cape business like this. It wasn’t like we were robbing an orphanage or something heinous like that. Beating the homeless and crippled was light work in comparison.

“I was gonna respond before this dickhead started beatin’ on the door,” I frowned, looking back down at the bound man.

“... Fuck you. Ma’ name’s Trainwreck, you shit-faced faggot! And that’s ma’ house! Who else can beat on the door ‘cept for me?!”

He began bucking again, and I sighed. Deeply.

“Like I already said; we didn’t know it was your crib, dumbass. How ‘bout brokering for peace and negotiating instead of tryna punch me in my shit immediately? ‘Cause now you’re lying there, face against the dirty ass ground, with this ‘faggot’ sitting on your back. A fuckin’ shame, right?”

…

The violent movement stopped, like all of the fight fled from his body at my brutally honest words, and Overdrive let out a low, pitying whistle as she pocketed my phone and crossed her arms over her chest. I tilted my head, looking down at the side of Trainwreck’s acne-splattered face and pushing my Hidden Intuition forward a smidge. I felt… not bad, per se, but empathy for the butt-ugly man. He clearly had nowhere to go, so being defensive and territorial over the place - no matter how dirty it had been - he actually ‘owned’ was understandable.

Less understandable was trying to crush my skull immediately, but he was probably drunk and high on drugs. Those were the only excuses I was willing to give him, at least.

Trainwreck is tired. Trainwreck is tired of fighting. Trainwreck is tired of living-

Oh fuck, holy shit that was dark. Rewind that the fuck back.

Trainwreck is tired of living in squalor. Trainwreck is tired of his physical deformities. Trainwreck is tired of being weak and poor.

I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Depressed women with daddy issues I could handle in droves, but suicidal Case 53s were a completely different story that I had no experience with. And he was a Case 53 - I may not have recognized him from my perfect memory of trolling the Worm wikipedia and reading stories, but I could easily recognize the telltale physical disfigurement signs.

After shearing off his arms with my Armament and beating him down with ‘em, I realized that he had little fleshy pseudopods wriggling from the pink, blob-like meat that I assumed was his main ‘body’.

The dude was basically just a flesh-colored sperm cell with a big ass head. No wonder he was so fucking pissed.

“... If you gon’ kill me,” Trainwreck suddenly spoke, his guttural, lispy voice devoid of emotion. “Go ‘head and do it, kid. Better someone wit’ balls than another two-bit gangster wit’ a gun. This shitty city’s full of ‘em. Can’t just leave a fucker like me alone to waste away in peace.”

Overdrive and I shared a glance, and I was surprised at the synchronized understanding that naturally sparked between us. It wasn’t anything magical or telepathic - she just looked into my eyes, I looked into hers, and we both sorta knew what the other was thinking. Maybe it was the crooked smile on my lips, and the empathetic grimace on hers.

“Over-”

“Already on it, big guy.”

I eased off of Trainwreck’s dented back, and my minion jogged back into the shipping container. Not even a second later, she came out with a big ass pair of chain cutters gripped in her oil-stained hands.

Trainwreck twitched viciously at the sight, his dirt brown eyes widening in confusion.

Breathing in the remnants of excitement and adrenaline that fueled the Aqshy around me, I gripped the incredibly bulky suit of armor by the edge of its rugged collar, set my feet widespread, and yanked. My muscles tightened, tendons rippling as my enhanced strength was forced into overdrive, but my fervor and one-track determination was rewarded. With a grunt of exertion, Trainwreck’s prone body was yanked back into a seated position, the crumbling stone beneath his metal ass turning to dust from the sudden weight.

I exhaled slowly, taking a step back and stuffing my stiffened hands back into the pockets of my coat. Clearly I had to hit up the gym or something. Who knew roughly two tons of bulky, welded-together steel was so fucking heavy?

“The fuck’s goin’ on now?” Trainwreck groused, attempting to crane his head back to glare at me. It was quickly shown to be ineffective, however, so he settled for glowering at Overdrive. “You gon’ have yer’ bitch do me in, kid? Ain’t as ballsy as I thought you were.”

The mechanic merely smirked at him, resting the chain cutters against her shoulder.

I stepped out from behind the iron giant, duly noting that he was almost as tall as Overdrive while sitting down on his ass. The sight could have been slightly demoralizing if not for the fact that I’d already beaten him, and quite thoroughly at that. Height and size didn’t mean shit to magic.

“We’re not killing you, dumbass. Just sit tight.” I stated simply, dismissing the strands of Chamon entangling the chains with a tilt of my head. As the weight wrapping around his body decreased, Trainwreck grunted in satisfaction at the lack of pressure. “Go ahead, Overdrive.”

Still smirking, the blonde-haired mechanic sashayed forward and pressed the chain cutters against the burnished steel links. Overdrive clearly knew what she was doing - she put her entire body weight into the top handle, the bottom one resting against the fleshy portion of her thigh.

SNAP.

The chains broke.

She did it a couple more times since I’d gone a little overboard with the bondage play, but before long Trainwreck was completely free. As I expected, he didn’t do anything stupid like trying to headbutt Overdrive or leap to his feet in order to run away, which would have been almost impossible with his overwhelming bulk and the lack of balance he had without his oversized arms.

No, he seemed almost… thoughtful, oddly enough. He hadn’t even glanced down at the bountiful cleavage in front of him once, which was easily the most surprising thing.

Even I didn’t have that willpower.

“Alrighty!” Overdrive shouted, stepping away and tossing the chain cutters over her shoulder again. “One oversized piece of scrap as free as a bird as ordered, boss. We sure ‘bout this?”

I snorted derisively. “We colonized homie’s only place of residency. Of course I’m sure.” Turning my attention back to the silently staring Trainwreck, I grabbed his discarded, ridiculously oversized ‘arms’ and tossed them onto his lap. They were heavy, but significantly lighter than his power armor.

He started at the impact, his brows furrowing down into a puzzled glare. “This ‘sposed to be, what, mercy? No one doin’ work in the Trainyard’s that nice, kid. You can take yer bullshit and shove it back up yer ass.”

I shrugged. “Consider it an apology, ‘cause we need your place and we’re gonna keep usin’ it… at least until tomorrow. You can either pull yourself together and come inside - I cleaned your sheets, by the way - or you can fuck off until we leave. It’s up to you.”

“... Tch.” Fleshy tendrils began snaking out of the holes on the side of his power armor, wrapping around tiny little handles in the hollow opening of the large arms. Slowly, the pseudopods began retracting, effortlessly pulling the heavy metal with them.

Was I strong-arming the guy? Sure. But, much like Sherrel, Trainwreck wasn’t the type to just accept kindness and benevolence without a shit ton of hesitance and suspicion, and considering he tried to punch first and ask questions later, well… I wasn’t in the most giving of moods.

It was at this point that the Grimoire dutifully tossed a relatively large mote of light my way, and I allowed its description to flow into my brain - and promptly tossed it away. Becoming an undead necromancer was not what I meant by ‘new year, new me’, and I was quite proud of my flesh and blood capabilities of being able to grow a boner.

No thanks, come back next time with something attractive, Grimmy.

“Our baby’s almost ready for augmentations, by the way!” Overdrive said cheerily, sliding over to my side as I started making my way back to the shipping container. “ABB fucktards kept him in good shape, ‘cept that shitty fuckin’ paintjob. I’ll need a lotta scrap to reinforce the frame, a weldin’ tool, spools of copper wire, some heavy-duty batteries to act as an independent power source…” She switched the chain cutters to the other shoulder, handling the weight like a pro-

Wait.

“Our baby?” I snorted, a dry grin pulling at my lips. “Kinda scandalous, havin’ a kid with your new boss. Think about the tabloids, Overdrive. My happy marriage…”

“...”

It was only after I stepped into the impromptu garage that I realized the mechanic was no longer by my side. I glanced back, my eyebrows raising in bemusement at the sight of her gripping the cutters with both hands, raising them ‘threateningly’ in my direction.

“Who are you and what’d ya do with Avalon?” she hissed, snipping the cutters in the air. “Boss man would say somethin’ like ‘Chill, Sherr - the only kid I’m havin’ is with my girl. Stop bein’ such a perv, woman’.” Her voice turned deep and overtly velvety as she mocked the way I spoke, even hitting the slight Cajun accent with pinpoint accuracy, and my right eye twitched in annoyance.

“I’m not that bad,” I scowled, turning back around and walking towards the pile of supplies we’d collected from the ABB warehouse. “And toss me my phone. A lotta the shit you need can probably be found around here, but I can go buy the copper wire in bulk.”

“Maybe not that bad,” she agreed reluctantly, walking inside and dropping the cutters to the floor. “But you’ve been ridin’ my ass, in the unfun way, ‘bout impeding on your beautiful relationship. What gives?”

I rolled my eyes, too busy stuffing my wallet with hundred dollar bills to turn around and give her a proper dressing down. “This really the time for that, Overdrive?”

“Nope,” she replied, popping the P. “Never said I was any good at readin’ the room, big man.”

“Heh, ain’t that the truth? Now toss me my phone.”

“Hmph! Catch.”

My ears twitched.

I reached over my shoulder, smoothly grabbing the tossed device out the air before it could go sailing past my head. I twisted on my heels as I stood, coating my clothing with a thin membrane of mana and seamlessly switching it out for one of my many new civilian outfits. In between crouching and standing, I went from Avalon, the Tarnished Hero, to…

Jason Black, a ridiculously hot, sunglasses-wearing African American teenager in casual clothes.

I pocketed both the wallet and the cellular device.

“I’ll grab you a phone while I’m out,” I offered casually, cracking my neck to the side with a groan. “Ahh, there we go… kink’s been botherin’ me for a minute.”

“Thanks,” Overdrive waved her hand dismissively, already making her way back to the jacked-up truck. “We’ll be revisitin’ this convo another time, then?” The question was asked as a question, but her tone of voice hinted that it was more of a ‘statement’ - that she’d be revisiting the conversation with me, whether I initiated it or not.

I didn’t mind.

“I’ll think about it.”

Ignoring her snort, and the subsequent bang of metal against metal, I exited the shipping container and-

Paused at the sight of Trainwreck dragging a large wooden pallet stacked at least four feet high with scrap metal, ranging from sheets of corroded steel to broken-down appliances like toasters and microwaves. Smoke billowed into the air from his red-hot back exhaust pipes, bringing with it the scent of charcoal and burnt hair. The same chain Overdrive had snipped off of his body was wrapped tightly around his oversized gauntlet and hooked onto the front of the wooden pallet.

He paused as well, cracked and dirty lips pulling back to expose rotten teeth. I couldn’t tell if he was sneering or smiling. “Saw the truck yer bitch was workin’ on. Not bad. Could use a lil’ bit of work, though, and I ain’t one to…” Trainwreck trailed off, licking his chapped lips uncomfortably. “I don’t like leavin’ a man’s work to women. You get me?”

Trainwreck is tired. Trainwreck is lonely. Trainwreck is hopeful.

I didn’t need to dive any deeper; it was pretty obvious what was going on here. I really was a magnet for the homeless and disenfranchised.

“I get you. Lemme just say this, though - you so much as spit in her direction while I’m gone and I promise you won’t like what I do when I get back.”

His sneer grew into a disgusted grimace. “Not interested in yer snowbunny. Don’t even got that kinda hardware.”

I winced. “Fair enough.” There was an awkward pause, and I scratched my chin. “You, er, want somethin’ from the store, or-”

“Oil,” he grunted, resuming his slow dragging of the metal-laden pallet. Sweat beaded at his weathered face, but he didn’t seem too bothered. “Oil, wood glue, and… some o’ that pizza you mentioned earlier. Extra pepperoni.”

“Can do,” I acquiesced with an amused smirk, stepping aside to let him work. “Better than askin’ for pineapple. That definitely would’ve ruined our budding friendship. Worse than me kickin’ your ass has, at least.”

The chuckle Trainwreck let out sounded like boulders grinding against boulders, complete with a hacking cough that sounded absolutely diabolical.

“Even I ain’t that fucked up, kid.”

____________________________________

1000 CP remaining.

A/N:

We get a little bit of insight into Amy and Victoria here, and we actually learn a little bit more about Trainwreck?

No accepted rolls this chapter, but that's fine. Rolling can't happen every chapter. The declined 500 CP perk was from Warhammer Fantasy, and it would have turned Jason into an undead necromancer - quite literally. 

That is not something I'm interested in writing, lol.

Next chapter will be finishing up the truck tinkering and tying up a couple loose ends, and then we'll be in for the mission!

Question is: Will Jay be alright, walking around Downtown - even out of costume - with E88 tension so high? Hmmm...

Guess we'll see.