Divine Celebrity 160 (Patreon)

“Well, that was not what I expected,” I murmured as I lay on my hospital bed, unfortunately, but inevitably alone. 

The responsible party, the papers in front of me. 

It was after midnight since I arrived at the hospital, and my initial plan was to spend a lot of time with my sexy nurse. That was interrupted by the arrival of several reporters, which was more than I expected even with my little ploy. 

Meaning,  my ‘caring’ nurse had to leave early, leaving her place to a bunch of nosy reporters. My doctor didn’t seem to care about my life that much, letting them inside, bragging about his genius intervention saving my life for a long while. 

Followed by a long session with the reporters, in which they shamelessly revealed how the world changed while I was asleep, testing my reaction. In response, I put an exaggerated acting. Not to annoy the reporters; though that was definitely a bonus as they failed to get their shocked poor coma patient routine despite their most aggressive questioning. 

It had other objectives. The biggest was the intent generation. I had long realized that Intent was not just attention, and required strong emotions to empower it. Hate, anger, joy, and desire worked. Pity did not, so showing up in the local news as the poor soul who had just lost three years wouldn’t help me. 

Another benefit was to reinforce my secondary excuse. While the coma excuse would be enough for the legal issues — I hoped — the same didn’t apply to the secret organizations that would be looking for my case. The poorer I acted, the easier it would be for them to assume that my trick wasn’t an important one. 

And, convincing them that I was a bad actor would only help in the future. 

So, as reporters pushed me, I played my own game. 

However, none was the reason I looked at the papers in surprise. No, I was looking at it, because of the title of one of the tabloids. 

-Ex-Quarterback Gives No Quarter-

It was an aggressive title, but not as aggressive as the pictures underneath. All taken while I was having fun with my sexy nurse. Someone had managed to take my pictures while I was not paying attention to my surroundings because I was trying to control my own reaction. 

“At least they used good pictures,” I said as I examined the pictures, which showed quite a few of my tense muscles as I had been drilling into my sexy nurse. Luckily, none of the photos actually showed her discarded uniform or her face, leaving her identity a mystery. 

Since the same courtesy hadn’t been extended to me, I guessed it was more about the newspaper not wanting to anger the hospital than their general journalistic integrity. Because the article that followed was interesting in more than one way. 

It had cast quite a bit of aspersions on my character, reckless Playboy being the softest one. Yet, those direct insults were nothing compared to the other point the article was making. The article spent quite a bit of time questioning how a man who had just woken up from a coma could exert himself that much. 

From there, I would have expected them to follow up and accuse me of being a fraud. 

They chose a different path. 

The article repeated several times just how exceptional my recovery had been, using words like miracle, incredible, and unbelievable very liberally, until it became obvious even to a child that they were accusing me of having superpowers without openly saying it. 

An incredible violation of privacy, and borderline illegal. During my research, I noticed that the government had laws about revealing the identity of people with superpowers, but from the way the newspaper wrote the article, it was clear that it was not a law that was enforced with great tenacity. 

Being exposed — both physically, and in terms of power — without my permission wasn’t a good feeling, but I felt myself in a forgiving state. 

The reason lay in front of me. 

[System Damage — 2.1%]

Now that I was awake after my long nap — which I had fallen once the reporters left — I could feel several lines of Intent connecting to me, mostly jealousy and lust, all coming from all around the city. Benefits of a sex scandal. 

Naturally, despite it being a part of the flashy title, I wasn’t naive enough to think that people actually cared about a quarterback who only played a few games before the disaster. 

What excited people was a sex scandal about a potential hero? 

“It looks like my path is set,” I thought. In some ways, the unexpected scandal was inconvenient, as it had prevented me from exactly how to reveal myself. And, leading with my potential hero identity, even though their existence was more or less common at this point — ensured by the weird magical effect that made people more accepting of the strange — was not my first choice. 

At least, it wasn’t my last choice either. Because, at this point, whether I wanted or not, the die was cast. 

I decided to enjoy the advantages. One of them being expedited bureaucratic response. Next to the papers, there was a new driver’s license, already waiting for me, showing that at least one government office took my potential as a hero seriously. 

A useful detail, as I wasn’t looking forward to going through hoops to prove I still existed. Also, it showed the government’s general attitude since I woke up with a small courtesy gift rather than being taken away by a bunch of people in suits. 

“Not bad,” I murmured as I stood up. While my stay had been fun and beneficial, I had no intention of staying in the hospital. Not after my unintentional reveal removed any need to pretend weakness. And, I even had my ID, which would make it possible to mix back. 

The sooner I did so, the sooner I could start collecting Intent. The accidental sex scandal had been beneficial, but it wasn’t even enough to repair the System, let alone help me collect the next day’s reward. 

I needed more. 

It was time for the Sunset town to have its full-time hero. 

But first, find some clothes. 

I didn’t have any clothes, which was a problem, so I put on a hospital gown before I left my room. The moment I stepped out of the door, a lot of people started gossiping, wondering about whether I was a hero, the Intent flow getting more Intense. 

The Intensity didn’t even match the way people reacted during my brief stint as a celebrity, giving me a good idea of where the heroes fell. Currently, I am a local celebrity, and not a particularly popular one. 

Highlighting that whatever fame was triggered by the sex scandal wouldn’t last long. 

“Sir, you can’t be up,” one of the nurses said immediately as she rushed to me, worried. But, I wasn’t bad when it came to reading people. She wasn’t worried for my health, but for herself, and it was a low-level fear. So I ignored her while I walked toward the counter. 

“I want to leave the hospital,” I said. The receptionist was equally worried. 

“Sir, we advise you to —” she started, but I waved my hand. “Nonsense, just process me, and find me some clothes,” I said, a little louder than I would have normally said, understanding exactly why they were trying to delay me. 

Before she could find an answer, my doctor came dashing. “Terry, please wait. We still have a lot of tests to make sure you can leave the hospital safely —” he started. 

“If I’m healthy enough to deal with a dozen reporters, I’m healthy enough to leave the hospital,” I said. “Unless the laws changed when I was in a coma, of course.” 

I might have applied just a dash of Intent to scare him further. Not enough to be suspicious — they already knew I had some kind of rapid recovery, and super strength looked common enough, but I would have preferred if they didn’t realize I had other abilities — but enough to truly scare him. 

It might have worked to my benefit, but when he called the dozens of reporters to ambush me about the changes the world had experienced, he lost any hint of mercy I might have felt toward him. 

“What about the hospital bill. You have collected quite a hefty hospital bill. What if you stay for a few days, and we forgive the bill,” he said, showing that he was rather enthusiastic about experimenting on a hero. 

“Oh, I won’t be paying any bills,” I said with a big smile. 

“That’s—” he started. 

“First, I don’t have any assets, so even if you sue, I won’t pay. Second, if you even dare to send me one, I’ll sue you for emotional damages for letting all those reporters in.” 

“Y-you don’t look damaged,” he started, but I could see that he was reaching. 

“It’ll be the judge’s call, right?” I said. He collapsed, defeated. 

And I walked away. 

Dealing with assholes was always fun.