Mind Games - Chapter 5 (Patreon)

Let's talk a little about the Ship of Theseus.

For the uninitiated, Theseus was the famed Athenian King... who varies between myth and reality depending on your specific world. According to his legend, though, he is credited with saving the children of Athens from King Minos after slaying the monstrous minotaur and then escaping on a ship. Athenians would, for centuries afterwards, use that same ship to make a ceremonial pilgrimage in honor of Theseus' memory and the Greek God Apollo. A few hundred years after that, Greek philosophers started to do what they did best and began an argument that doesn't actually have any sort of material effect on the physical world or practical application.

The question posed was thus: 'Is the ship we are using several hundred years after we began this tradition still the same ship after we have incrementally replaced each and every part of the vessel over that time period?'

Now, consider this from my perspective.

I started out as one of The Company's cloned stock of potential freelance Contractors. So, right off that bat, I'm not the 'original ship.' I'm an atomic-level copy of the original that remembers being the original, but never actually was.

My transmigration into this reality was purely metaphysical. No actual real-world matter made the trip with me. Just my mind, my soul, and my memories. So that's another degree of separation between who I was and who I am.

But that doesn't take into account the fourteen years of Shinso Hitoshi now lodged in my head. Compared to over thirty years of my original life, one wouldn't imagine that would amount to much dilution, but anyone thinking that would be wrong. Every waking moment I was interacting with Hitoshi's world. His family, his school, his power, his frie-

Wait, no. No friends, nevermind on that.

But the point is, everything that I inherited from Hitoshi before he made that unfortunate decision is constantly being reinforced, daily. My original memories, on the other hand, can only fade into the background. That's where I was until about half an hour ago.

Then I bought four templates, because apparently I have masochistic tendencies.

...no,wait. I used to work in education, I already knew that.

So, what is a template? Well, it's the condensed memories and experiences of a given individual which The Company allows you to purchase as a quick and easy augment to your own skills. Buying one post-insertion defaults the power of whatever kind of template you buy to Tier Four. That tier is typically the first level where people begin to possess explicit supernatural powers or are the kind of badass normal on par with someone like The Punisher or Batman.

In fact, I personally called it the 'Batman Tier' in my head as something of a joke just for that reason.

I really wish they'd had Batman in stock, actually. That would have been awesome.

Instead, I'd taken a template for Cassandra Cain, one of the few martial artists that legitimately outpaced him. Nowhere near as technologically savvy or as good of a detective, but I could live with that when one counted the ability to read body language more fluently than written script.

To compensate for that, though, I'd grabbed a template of River Tam. Her brother's introductory monologue had described himself as 'gifted.' He described River as, 'a gift' who made him look like an, 'idiot child.' Being from an interstellar civilization and being compared to a top graduate in an infamously difficult field like medicine even somewhat favorably...

Two Tier Fours, to make me a hand-to-hand combat monster and more intelligent and capable than ninety-nine percent of humanity or those with intelligence-enhancing quirks.

If this world was like what I knew to be the danger level of the 'canon' environment was? I'd have stopped there, even in this situation. The heroes were on-call, aware of my general location, situation, and actively assembling to pull my ass out of the fire I'd inadvertently landed myself in.

But, apparently, that wasn't the case.

I hadn't just been kidnapped by human traffickers likely working at least tangentially for the local Big Bad, dragged to an off-grid complex in the hinterlands, and put up against a crew of professional criminals who knew my power and had already hard-countered it. No, evidently that was too easy. I apparently needed some challenge in my life.

So there were things out in the dark, just past the corner of your eye, hiding and waiting to drag you into a shadow, kill you, and eat you.

In that order, if you were lucky.

Oh, sure, my new Company Rep hadn't exactly laid it out in those specific terms, but I could read between the lines well enough and it wasn't as though they had a complete picture, either. They admitted they didn't, in fact. Worst-case scenario, then... I came loaded for bear and only found deer. Considering my current environs, though, I didn't consider myself that lucky.

Which was why I came to, laid out on the old futons 'sound-proofing' my cell, feeling as though I'd been hit by Truck-Kun who'd come back for seconds and thirds when the isekai didn't take the first time.

Thankfully, as both energy and knowledge settled from a whirling maelstrom into a controlled furnace of raw capability, I was able to begin cycling some of that selfsame power to soothe the aches that came with upgrading my own personal Ship of Theseus from a Greecian galley into an ultra-modern stealth frigate.

Which begged the question...

Who am I now? Now that I've been taken apart, had pieces replaced, capabilities expanded, advanced metaphysical technology integrated... who am I?

“I'm the guy sitting in a cell waiting on someone to rescue him,” I stated, breathing out. “If you're not a philosophy major, drunk, or high... it's a goddamn ship. Get over yourselves.”

I am that I am. Who the fuck gives a shit past that?

Iskander had the right idea with the Gordian Knot, is what I'm saying.

Existential crisis having been neatly told exactly how much it mattered and put in its place, I eased myself into a sitting position, then crossed my legs in a lotus position and took a deep breath. Slowly, I felt my mind clear of the recent overturning of its foundations and empty itself of cumbersome distractions. My mental and spiritual fingers slowly strummed the small star of life force now beating as much within my soul as within my chest and I felt the smooth veins of potential overlay their physical counterparts.

No less substantial, though, were the physical changes. While a template did not overwrite who you were, they could and did make alterations to your body. I'd chosen four templates, each with exceptionally strong physical characteristics. Two were on a 'mere' human level, true... or, at least, comic book human level, but they were at the very peak of that avenue of physical fitness. While the other two possessed supernatural powers, true... they were no less physically-gifted.

In short? I was ripped.

A month and a half of daily workouts enforced by using my own quirk on myself had left me very fit. Hitoshi might not have been a star athlete before, but neither had he been a particularly mobile noodle impersonating a human, like one green-haired pre-beach cleanup individual I could have pointed towards. In fact, I'd probably even pushed myself harder than I should have, relying on a combination of the innate potential everyone in this world seemed to possess and my own Talents to pick up the slack.

My mind clear of distractions, the changes to my body, mind, and soul sorted and cataloged, and the pressure in my skull receding from the sudden upgrade, I began mentally flipping through the ancient library within my mind's eye, searching out potential applications of the esoteric power I now possessed.

I was, nominally, only Tier Five even with the Template Stacking option I'd taken to increase the potent abilities, but with the synergy I felt-

Then the lock to my cell door clicked open.

As did my eyes, my gaze calmly regarding my visitors. What I saw had me calmly and slowly lowering my hands to my pants pocket, where I restarted the private stream for the heroes.

I had a sudden feeling I'd need to have this meeting 'on the record.'

The two men who'd kidnapped me, one stocky and bulky with muscle, the other taller and lithe with oversized hands and webbed fingers.

I still think he looks like a weasel.

Weasel looked at me with a mix of disgust and derision, the purpling bruise along his face a testament to the effectiveness of my quirk. Spitting on the floor and wincing at the motion of his jaw, he turned to look at his friend. “Hurry it up.”

Stocky nodded, putting one fist into the palm of the opposite hand. “You'll get your turn. Hacker owes us one and no one will care if some of them are roughed up.”

Weasel snorted, nodded back, then turned to – presumably – stand guard in the hall if they really were going behind their boss' back for this.

“Stand up,” Stocky stated, jerking his head up while keeping his eyes narrowed in the gloom of the insufficiently-bright single bulb that lit the room from its dirty protective case. “Won't be as satisfying if you stay on your ass the entire time.”

You're about to hand out a beating for me defending myself while you were kidnapping me and I'm supposed to be worried about your satisfaction? Hah.

I raised an eyebrow, popping my neck and making a show of taking my sweet time. “Just to be clear, you're going to torture me now, right?”

His eyes widened slightly as I got to one knee. “Oh, quit whining. Just going to put you in your place. Give you a few more shiners to match that one Swordkil gave you. Maybe break a bone or two. Take it like a man and it'll be over quick.”

I rose up on both feet, dusting my hands off on my pants. “We're in an isolated compound, likely far away from any sort of professional medical treatment. Broken bones can tear through veins and skin, internal bleeding, rupture of organs... all of these can happen easily if a punch lands wrong. To say nothing of a potential head wound and the complications thereof.”

This was what I told myself when I really wanted to understand the Japanese mindset about violence, even when used in self-defense. Accidents happened all the time and, when violence was involved, it could easily turn tragic. Throw a punch, your opponent slips, you hit their temple and rattle their brain just right... and suddenly there's a cooling body where a person was a moment before.

He missed a step and I continued talking. “I'm fourteen years old with only basic self-defense training. You're a veteran professional villain with decades of experience, a good hundred kilos of muscle on me, and what's probably a strength-enhancing quirk if I had to guess. You've also made it impossible for me to use my quirk on you.”

The stocky villain scowled at me, stepping forward. “I'll be careful then. Won't even use my quirk. Stay real still and all of that might not happen.”

“Your friend going to be as careful as you are when it's his turn?” I asked plainly, adjusting my balance subtly as I backed off in small steps, giving him every indication in my physical body language that I was afraid, even if my calm demeanor belied that.

Stocky paused for a heartbeat, his barely-visible eyes sliding towards the door for a fraction of a second before sliding back to me, hesitation shaking his resolve for a moment. He continued in an undertone. “I'll take my time, he'll only get in a few good licks.”

I nodded, having half-expected something like that and took my last step backwards until I was almost at the corner of the room opposite the cell door. Still, I had to try.

Legally, I had to try to defuse the situation in every possible way I had available before it came to blows. Self defense had to be the last resort and only option remaining before I moved forward with it. “Nothing I can say or do to get out of this, then? No resort I can take to stop two villains from attacking, torturing me, and possibly killing me with a sloppy hit?”

“Afraid not.” Stocky huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he pulled back a telegraphed punch.

As the punch flew, I let my knees go slack and dipped out of its way, the villain's eyes widening in honest surprise as his thought processes stalled out in momentary shock. As his fist impacted the cushioned wall behind me harmlessly, I sprung up and grabbed onto it, twisting like an Olympic gymnast. The grip I had on his extended arm allowed me to supplement the power of the kick I had chambered as I moved my body into a single precision strike.

The outer edge of my right foot hit straight into his throat.

We were both normal humans, that would have ended the matter then and there.

However, I was using only slightly above-baseline human strength for my age (on purpose), and he was (as I'd said) a villain with decades of experience.

Oh, I have no doubt it hurt like a bitch. His guttural choking attested to that, but I couldn't have him calling out for help. Attesting to his own training, his skin was already turning purple as he instinctively reached for what was no doubt his quirk.

 I released my grip on his arm even as he shook me off, dropping into a low crouch and lashing out with another kick, this time straight to his balls. Again, I was only using the mildest strength enhancement I could manage, so nothing unfortunate happened to the orbs in question, but that wasn't the point.

Brutally, the pain was the point. The disorientation. The confusion.

The loss of reason.

His skin was shifting faster now as his jaw dropped open in a silent scream of pain. Which probably made it hurt all the worse when I leaped up from my crouch to hit that extended jaw with a vicious uppercut. Another testament to both my restraint and his own toughness, the organ wasn't severed, but there was quite a bit of blood as he struggled to scream again.

 He was growing now, too. Larger than me by half-again and still expanding into a grape-colored wall of muscle, pain, and anger. The only reason I could look him in the eye was because he'd dropped to his knees in the process of my utter dismantling of him.

But he was still awake, still aware, and becoming ever-more ready to initiate violence against me that would certainly kill me should I let him. Instead, I looked him directly in the eyes and smiled sadly. “I'm sorry about this, but you’ve put me in a desperate situation.”

Then I split the fingers on my right hand in two and rammed each pair of fingers into one of his eyes up to the second knuckle.

Regardless of everything else, this made the man truly roar in pain and respond like never before.

But I was already moving.

Jumping to the side, I kicked off the padded wall of the cell, bounced off the other side of the corner, and hit the ceiling, where I grabbed onto the padding there and skittered away – behind – the screaming beast. Almost immediately after I got a firm grip on the ceiling, that fact was tested by a bone-rattling shock that rang throughout the facility. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that the Grape Gorilla had, indeed, just blown out the entire corner of the room, his wild punches widening the gaping hole further as his monstrous strength shattered even the rubble to something more like large gravel as he screamed again and moved forward, throwing another punch and only hitting air before charging blindly ahead.

“What the fuck-” Weasel cried, stepping into the room in a shocked daze, looking around at the destruction before taking a few quick steps to the hole in the wall and opening his mouth to yell. “Nobu, what the-”

Then I dropped from the ceiling on top of him with a suckerpunch to the back of the head. I was being careful, but definitely pulled my punch less than with the Grape Gorilla. The result was Weasel collapsing like a sack of potatoes as I landed bodily on him, taking the fall well considering I had a cushioned floor and a body pillow.

Hah. I'm hilarious.

Standing, I took a second to gather my bearings before casually bringing my foot down on each of Weasel's arms, then his right leg. Unlike them, my blows were calculated to break bones and only bones, putting the villain thoroughly out of commission even if he did wake up.

Then, before the mook squad could get their shit together, I booked it for the hole in the wall.

“C'mon Aru-chan! We have to go! Now!”

I stopped, blinking as I mounted the crest of the small hill of gravel and looked back. Sure enough, Grape Gorilla had destroyed enough of the wall that there was a hole in the cell next to mine as well. Two girls, both apparently my age, were climbing up the rubble.

Our gazes met.

My purple met reflective gold.

I blinked.

Yelling in the distance broke the tableau and I shook myself. “Yo. Name's Shinso Hitoshi, fellow kidnapping victims, I'm guessing? I was going to run into the forest and hide from the men with guns and wait for the heroes. Wanna' come with?”

The girl with the pink-furred body, elongated neck, and somewhat alpaca-ish head seemed to sag in relief. “The heroes are coming? Please!”

The other? Moonlight caught on blonde hair and a school uniform that looked a bit worse for the wear, her eyes unerringly locked on mine as her lip slipped into a suspicious semi-frown, before she nodded and smiled.

“Let's get out of here, this place is so un-cute,” Toga Himiko declared, accepting my outstretched hand to leverage herself up and over the crest of the hill.

~~~

Here's more Mind Games.

Since I didn't comment on the end of the poll when I posted Industrious a few days ago, it is a bit surprising how closely all three are supported. It does tell me that, no matter what, one of these moving up to take a spot on the monthly polls would be well-received. So that's good.

In any event, I hope everyone enjoys more MHA shenanigans. Next chapter of MG will likely be the end of this arc, though possibly not tie up all the loose ends. That might need part/all of the following chapter.

Regardless, I'll be working on more Winning Peace next, so look forward to that in a few days as well. Thank you again for your patience and support, hope everyone is having a good week.

PS: Wyldscape Defense has been swapped out for Polymorph Defense. Minor Retcon.