Crying my eyes out was cathartic, but it didn't actually fix anything. So, to distract myself from the lingering depression that came with sobbing for hours, I decided to go get something to eat. A treat, sponsored by that totally-not-a-bribe I got from the Undersiders. I went to the edge of the downtown area and found a Greek restaurant that had wheat-free pitas and ended up grabbing a massive gyro. Shapeshifting meant getting full was a thing of the past, which I'd never really thought about until my order came up and I saw just how huge it was, even despite the smaller sized wheat-free pitas.
I summoned Parker under the table to feed her little bits, but she never took any. By the time I'd looked down to see where she went, she was long gone. I saw her fluttering around from time to time, seemingly exploring the place, so I wasn't too worried. If she was caught I could always just call her back to Gachaspace.
I found out as I was leaving and getting ready to de-summon her that the little shit had gotten into the back and pulled a heist, ending up with samples of what had to be every ingredient in their pantry wrapped up in a towel along with a small handful of change—including dollar coins, which surprised me. I wasn't aware this world still used those. When she presented it to me like a cat presenting a mouse to its owner, I just lost it. If it weren't for… that trait, I might've pissed myself laughing. The little gremlin was already living up to her namesake, and I was all for it.
After that, and still not feeling 100%, I decided to go for a flight. Studying how Parker took off and landed—which I asked her to do several times for my sake—made it much easier to figure out how to replicate the effect without the use of a tall building, and soon enough I was in the sky, pet crow flying along beside me. It was genuinely the most at-peace I'd felt since coming here, and I decided that choosing Parker over some gargoyles was absolutely the right decision. Flying was awesome. Flying with a friend? Much awesomer. (Yes, I know it's not a word.)
I was simply circling the city, admiring the view of the last few barely-visible colors of sunset over the hills, when I heard a loud scraping and clanging below me, like a huge metal object sliding across asphalt. My first thought was that there had been a wreck, which, when I looked down and checked, was both technically correct and completely wrong.
Below me, at the end of an alley, a large dumpster not too dissimilar to the one I woke up in lay on its side, a massive dent in it. Just a few yards further into an alley was a shaved white man in what looked like a work shirt and jeans sprawled on the ground, unmoving, small spots of blood just barely starting to soak into his shirt. I was already pulling into a circular dive when I spotted a familiar figure rushing up to him. I recognized the platinum blonde hair and blinding white and gold dress immediately: Glory Girl.
When she leaned down and checked the man's pulse, looking hurried, I felt my tension ease a little. Whatever happened, she'd probably take care of it. Instead of pulling all the way into the alley, I just landed on the edge of the roof and shifted to black dragon nardo form to watch, ready to provide aid if needed. Glory Girl ran out to the street, checked the signs, and pulled out her phone, which reminded me I still needed to go shopping for one myself.
I was just settling down to wait when I heard who she was calling. Not 911, or an ambulance, or the police as I'd expected. Instead, she called her sister.
"Hey sis? Yeah, I found him. That's, uh, sort of the problem. Yeah. Look, I'm sorr– ok, can we talk about this later? Yeah. I'm at Spayder and Rock, there's this little road that runs behind the buildings. Downtownish, yeah. Yeah? Thanks."
I couldn't quite make out the voice on the other end, but it sounded frustrated. Glory Girl had told me her sister was the best healer on the east coast, so maybe she was calling her for help? But she then hung up and just started looking around anxiously instead of calling 911. And she'd said that her finding him was the problem…
I glanced back at the dented dumpster. It looked as though it had been struck extremely hard by some sort of battering ram on the lower corner. Or maybe kicked by a super-powered foot. I hadn't looked up Glory Girl's powers when I was doing my cursory parahuman research project in the library, so all I knew was that she could fly and might have some sort of killing-intent Master ability, though in a comic world that could very well just have been something anyone strong could learn to do. Then again, grimdark settings tended not to follow all the same tropes.
"What do you think, Parker?" I whispered to my crow who was staring down at the scene with me as she perched on my shoulder. "Should we do something?"
The question then became what even could we do? I didn't have a phone to call the authorities, and I had no clue if getting involved in a corporate hero's business without some license would get me in trouble. But at the same time, Glory Girl down there might have attacked and severely injured a man. Hell, depending on just how powerful of a healer her sister was, the poor guy might've been dead!
Parker just fluffed her feathers and nuzzled against me, which I took as a request for scratchies and obliged, shortening my claws instinctively at this point. I ended up just watching, tense, until I saw another girl jogging down the road towards the situation.
She was shorter than Glory Girl, and certainly less defined, although the somewhat large hooded robe she wore made that harder to tell. She had a red cross on the front of her costume and wore a red scarf around her lower face. What little of her hair I could see that peeked through was curly and brown.
"Again, Victoria?" The new girl—pan something-or-other, I thought— spoke, startling Glory Girl who looked up from checking the downed man again.
"Use my codename, please," Victoria practically whined, standing up and fidgeting just a bit, looking for all the world like a teenager who knew she could be in deep shit.
"Our identities are public," Pan-something said, pulling off her hood. Her face was round and somewhat small, framed very nicely by her soft brown curls. Her eyes were a dark hazel or brown, and her face was covered in freckles. She was, in a word, cute. Adorable, even, if it weren't for the tired look in her eyes that spoke of someone who hated life and got no sleep. I'd been that person from time to time, so I knew the look well.
"It's the principle of the thing," Glorytoria whined.
"You want to talk about principle, Victoria?" Her sister snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This is the sixth—Sixth!—time you've nearly killed someone. That I know about!"
Six times? Just how reckless was this girl? And if I hadn't landed and changed so I could yell at her for making assumptions, would she have attacked me, too, just because she thought I was a villain? This was a hero?
My fingers tightened on the edge of the roof enough to gouge the stone with my claws. Meanwhile the two continued arguing, and the man that Victoria Girl had assaulted was still just lying there. A quick double check with my eyes and nose assured he wasn't bleeding externally anymore, which was good, but that didn't mean he wasn't bleeding internally.
"Look, can you just fix him already?" Victoria pleaded.
I barely caught the other girl's reply with my enhanced senses: "I'm thinking I shouldn't."
What?
"What?" Gory Girl echoed my thoughts, though likely for a different reason.
"There's consequences, Vicky," pan—panacea! That was her name—continued, louder this time. "If I help you now, what's going to stop you from doing it again? I can call the paramedics. I know some good people from the hospital. They could probably fix him up alright."
On the one hand, I agreed. That would get the proper process of justice rolling, hopefully. On the other, he was clearly hurt and she had the power to help him. She was apparently a hero, so she should be allowed to aid people in the field. Even if not, hopefully good Samaritan laws covered powered healing.
"Hey, hey, hey," Vicky Glory said, "That's not funny. He goes to the hospital, people ask questions."
"Yeah, I'm well aware," Pan-pan replied, her voice low again.
"This isn't, like, me getting grounded," Glory Victori continued. "I'd get pulled into court on charges of aggravated assault and battery. That doesn't just fuck with me. It fucks with our family, all of New Wave. Everything we've struggled to build."
I scowled at that. That was as blatant an attempt at emotional blackmail as any I'd ever seen, and I'm pretty bad at spotting those sorts of things. The sad thing was, it seemed to be working, as her sister just frowned and looked at the still very injured man.
"I know you're not keen on the superhero thing," Victoria said, doubling-down. "but you'd really go that far? You'd do that to us? To me?"
Okay, that was enough. I hated getting into conflicts, but this was just too far. Glory Girl was taking full advantage of what looked to be her younger sister, manipulating and blackmailing her into helping cover up what was clearly aggravated assault, as she herself said. The system may have been broken, but it was still better than nothing. If she wanted to call herself a hero, this sort of thing was inexcusable.
Gathering all my anger and shoving it forward to push out my fear, I stood up and clenched my fists. Panacea opened her mouth to say something, but I got there first. "What the hell are you two doing?! There is a seriously hurt man right fucking there and you're just standing there contemplating a coverup! I thought you said you were heroes?!"
Both girls jumped and snapped their gazes to me. Glory Girl even lifted off the ground a couple feet, and I felt a flare of raw intimidation for a moment that Introspection helped me recognize was completely external. I did my best to shove the feeling down and hopped off the roof, bending my knees to absorb the impact as I landed in a crouch beside the injured man and checked his breathing and pulse for myself. He groaned as I touched his neck, but otherwise didn't move. He seemed young, maybe my age. Well, my age before I came here.
"Can you hear me?" I asked nervously. I tried to recall my first aid lessons, but I hadn't taken them since I was in my early teens. "Tell me where it hurts the most. Or better yet, if there's anything you can't feel or move."
"Ruby," Glory Girl's shocked voice sounded behind me. "What are you doing here? How long were you listening?"
"Since just after you launched a dumpster into an unarmed civilian," I snapped. "I thought you'd do the responsible thing and call it in, but instead you just called your sister to blackmail her into covering for you. Nice going on the first impressions, hero!"
Was I being overly spiteful? Maybe, but I'd had a bad month these last three days, and I was just done with everything at this point.
"Woah, hey, there wasn't any—" Glory Girl started, but I cut her off.
"Panacea, right? You're a healer?" I looked straight at the shorter girl, who seemed at a loss for words.
"Y-yeah," She replied.
"Come here. How does your healing work? Can you take diagnostics?"
Panacea approached hesitantly, nodding. "Yes. I can see the full biology of anyone I touch and can heal anything but the brain."
An odd limitation for a healing power, but whatever. I waved her closer, and she knelt down next to me, eyes setting into a more relaxed yet focused gaze, like she was falling into a routine she knew well. She placed her hand against the man's face as I pulled mine away, her eyes going slightly distant for a moment.
"Slingshot break to his ribs," She started. "fractured clavicle, broken mandible, broken scapula, fractured sternum, bruised lung, broken ulna, broken radius—that's not even half of it. This might take a while."
"Any internal bleeding or other life-threatening injuries?" I asked.
Panacea shook her head. "Minor spinal damage, but nothing that would impair function."
I thought about it for a moment. The temptation was there to have him fixed up completely so he wouldn't suffer in the future, but that might also compromise the evidence trail. I didn't know why Glory Girl had decided to wreck this man's shit, but "aggravated assault and battery" implied she intended to do so. It was possible he deserved some of it, but I wasn't the judge of that.
"How precise is your healing?" I asked. "Can you leave markers? Heal things up enough to be functional and prevent lasting difficulties while still preserving an evidence trail?"
"Hey, woah, let's talk about this," Glory Girl pleaded from behind me.
Panacea nodded. "Easily. And I have a good memory. I'll be able to supply a list of injuries if asked."
I nodded. "Good. I'd say do that, but you're the more experienced of us. Do what you think is best. You!" I turned and glared at Glory Girl, who flinched and flew backwards a small amount. "Get out your damn phone, call 911, and tell them what happened. You don't need to go into detail, just the facts. There's been an incident and a man is injured. That's all you have to say for now."
I didn't trust the system not to screw over anyone involved, and I'd always been taught to provide just the facts in a case like this. Granted, I'd been taught that in case I needed to shoot a home-invader or something, not cover my own ass after kicking a half ton of metal at someone's back, but it should hopefully apply here, too.
"Hang on," Glory Girl said, crossing her arms and flaring her killing intent again. "Just who do you think you are, ordering us around like that?"
I froze, righteous anger warring with terror in my chest. I leaned hard on Introspection, found the part of my brain producing fear hormones, and cut it off, deciding I'd deal with the consequences and implications later. I stood up to my full height, thinning out my tail to let myself grow even taller, and growled at her. "Stop using that fucking fear power on me! You fucked up! You know you did! Stop acting like a spoiled child and take responsibility for your actions! Pull out your motherfucking phone and call the authorities or your victim won't be the only one suing!"
It was a bluff, of course. I didn't even have a legal identity yet, let alone a lawyer, and corporate teams were sure to have sponsors and lawyers of their own for exactly these sorts of scenarios.
Glory Girl let out an exaggerated laugh. "HAH! That's rich! Do you even know who my mom is? Carol Dallon, best lawyer in the bay. She'll kick both your asses in court, believe me!"
"Hiding behind your mom, now? How old are you, twelve?" I asked spitefully. Yeah, I'd lost my cool, and cutting off the part of me that felt fear was doing weird things to my sense of restraint. "And even so, if there's one thing I know about celebrities, it's that scandals stick for years and do permanent damage. I'm sure even a hint of a lawsuit would set the media hounds baying."
After all, if one of my favorite actors can be kicked out of a show because of a completely unfounded allegation of misconduct from a single random woman, a completely true story of hero brutality would go for miles. The media loved to hate on darlings.
We were interrupted by a caw from above. I looked up just in time to see Parker drop an old, beaten-up clamshell flip phone from the edge of the roof I was just on. I barely managed to catch it before it hit the ground, then glanced up at her again, feeling conflicted. The first time was funny, but stealing someone's phone was a problem that needed to be addressed. Later, though.
I opened the phone and dialed 911, turning away from the incensed teenager in front of me as dispatch picked up, "911, what is your emergency?"
"There's been an…" I glanced at Glory Girl and Panacea, wondering how to phrase this. "...incident involving a parahuman. One injured. Panacea is here, keeping him stable."
"Undertood. Where are you?"
"Rock and, uh," I started, trying to remember.
"Spayder," Panacea supplied.
I nodded in thanks. "Spayder. Small road behind the buildings."
"Thank you. Can you tell me anything about the parahuman responsible?"
I hesitated. If I did this, I'd be implicating this New Wave in a crime. Granted, Victoria admitted to it, but that wasn't for me to decide legally, especially if I wanted to keep my head down, though I had a sneaking suspicion that might've become impossible at this point. I was now a key witness, having seen most of the event, or at least the aftermath. I couldn't exactly stay anonymous. I was involved now, whether I liked it or not.
I noted idly that I should've been panicking at the thought, but my brain was still currently incapable of processing fear, which in itself should also have been terrifying.
"Miss?"
I shook my head, clearing my thoughts. "Sorry. I cannot say with absolute certainty who was responsible, though Glory Girl was on-site at the time. I didn't witness the event itself, just the immediate aftermath."
"Understood, miss," the dispatch lady replied calmly. "Are you a parahuman yourself?"
"I'd prefer not to say," I said, though it'd be pretty obvious whenever someone arrived if I decided to stick around.
"Understood. Please stay on the line, an ambulance and PRT van are on their way."
I really didn't want to stay on the line. I didn't want to be here at all, even with my bravery artificially boosted as it was, but I knew it was best that I did so. For all I knew, leaving would give Glory Girl an opportunity to bully or blackmail her sister again, and the healer was clearly susceptible to it, despite her attempts to do what's right. I had to wonder just how often Victoria took advantage of her sister like that? She'd said that this was the sixth time that she'd been called on to heal someone Victoria had beaten half to death. Did she try to do the right thing each time, only to be manipulated into covering it up? Did Victoria use that Master power of hers to nudge her into doing what she wanted?
I was clearly way out of my depth, but at this point I felt at least partially responsible. I'd involved myself. I was too deep in it to back out now.
"He's stable, by the way," Panacea said. "I've sedated him for now so he won't hurt himself further."
"Thank you, Panacea," I said, smiling at her. I made sure my teeth weren't visible so it didn't come across as predatory. I was still a dragon, after all. "You did the right thing. Glory Girl has— This has gone on for too long, from what you said."
Panacea looked deeply conflicted, like she'd gotten what she wanted but wasn't all that happy about it. I empathized. This was likely going to blow up for their family. I wouldn't want to be in the middle of that.
Victoria, for her part, was just staring at me angrily, arms crossed as she hovered in the air. I could tell her fear effect wasn't on anymore, so I slowly eased off on the fear suppression. I barely touched it before being flooded with pure anxiety, forcing me to ease it back on until crippling anxiety became deep concern instead.
I was then, of course, deeply concerned that I'd figured out how to do that to myself. Suppressing or turning off my emotions was not healthy. Doing it the mundane way was super bad and could cause all manner of problems down the line. Doing it with powers? Who knew what sorts of complications I was setting myself up for? Addiction was likely the least of my potential future issues.
For now, I kept doing it, because I couldn't afford to become a sobbing, panicking mess right now. I promised myself I'd turn it off as soon as I was alone, fully knowing it'd probably drop me right into another panic attack and that I'd want to avoid it for as long as possible.
Fuck, there were so many things wrong with me. I clearly needed help. But good luck getting the help I needed in a grimdark superhero setting when I already had a difficult time trusting authority or professionals and avoided anything even vaguely uncomfortable like the plague.
Eventually, I heard the sound of approaching sirens, both the distinctive tones of an ambulance and a second siren I didn't recognize that must've been the PRT, which the Wiki told me stood for Parahuman Response Team. Basically superhero cops. Not to be confused with the Protectorate, who were superheroes behaving as cops. The PRT were all normals, supposedly.
Sure enough, just behind the ambulance came a black van with a purple diagonal stripe painted on its side, a winged shield emblem with PRT emblazoned on it in the middle. It had a white and green lightbar, which just looked wrong to my eyes for some reason, even though I liked the color green.
To my surprise, beside the PRT van was a woman on a motorcycle. She was wearing a set of fitted army fatigues that showed off her very nice figure along with a sash around her waist patterned after the American flag. She had a bandana covering her lower face, also patterned after the flag, with olive skin, dark brown hair, and bottle-green eyes, which were almost invisible in the shadow of her half-helmet. I was glad I had scales at the moment, because between her figure and her clear musculature as she dismounted her bike, I was certain I would've been blushing enough to shine through fur.
"Miss Militia," Glory Girl said, sounding surprised as she floated back down to the ground. Paramedics rushed over to the unconscious man and began checking him over, with Panacea providing commentary.
The newly-dubbed Miss Militia nodded at Glory Girl. "Glory Girl." She turned her gaze on me, assessing in a way that sent an odd thrill down my spine, especially as she looked over my currently altered body. "And you must be the caller."
"Y-yeah," I stammered, then cleared my throat. Turns out suppressing fear does nothing for embarrassment. Or other emotions. "Yeah. Yes. I'm the one who called. You can call me Ruby for now."
She smiled kindly, her eyes wrinkling in a way that suggested the emotion beneath the mask. She obviously had some sort of acting or PR lessons. She stuck out a hand for me to shake, which I took. "Miss Militia, Protectorate ENE. It's nice to meet you, Ruby, although I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."
I nodded, still holding her hand. She was very warm, and while she was wearing gloves, the skin of her wrist was quite soft where my finger pads brushed against it. It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize I'd been just standing there holding her hand like a lovestruck teen and quickly let go, barely avoiding hiding my hand behind my back. "I agree."
Miss Militia simply smiled a little wider, and I felt the scales on my face heat up. She gestured vaguely towards the alley with one arm and nodded. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"
I latched onto the topic change like a lifeline and started explaining what I'd seen and heard, keeping it professional and brief. I offered only the facts as I understood them, with no speculation on my part. Miss Militia nodded seriously, writing down what I told her on a small note pad while men in paramilitary-style full-face helmets examined the scene, taking pictures and readings of some sort or another.
After I told my story, she moved on to Panacea, who gave a similar, if much briefer, story to mine, saying she'd gotten a call to heal someone, had a short argument with her sister, then I'd intervened.
Victoria's story was somewhat different. She spun a tale of the man being a member of the E88, and that she'd seen him at the scene of a bad assault on a minority college student with bloody knuckles and "grinning like a loon". She'd allegedly tracked him down and tried to capture him, but he was injured in the process. She made no mention of the dumpster or her emotional blackmail of her sister. She barely mentioned calling Panacea—or "Amy" as I heard her call her—to the scene.
She then of course spitefully tried to villainize me, claiming I'd been stalking her and had come out of nowhere to yell at her and boss Amy around, but even I could tell Miss Militia wasn't buying it, which was a relief.
After our statements were taken, Miss Militia asked to speak with me in private. I was hesitant to go with her anywhere, but she assured me I wasn't in trouble or being interrogated or anything, and she just had us hang out a few feet away while the other PRT officers were confirming details with the New Wave duo.
"I assume you're relatively new around here, correct?" Miss Militia asked.
I nodded. "Yes. I just arrived a few days ago. I've been trying to settle in. Get used to my abilities, that sort of thing."
"Were you present at the scene of Lung's arrest?" She asked, and I tensed. "You're not in trouble," She quickly added. "Armsmaster just mentioned an unknown parahuman matching your description at the scene. We just want to confirm a few details."
I let myself relax a little. "Yes. I was there. I had been hiding nearby as the fight went down and climbed a roof to see what was going on. When Armsmaster yelled at me, I was… frightened and decided to retreat."
Miss Militia's eyes seemed to sparkle with humor. "He can be fairly intimidating, can't he?"
I scratched my arm and smiled a little. "Just a bit, yeah."
Miss Militia laughed quietly. She had a lovely laugh. It made me want to smile a little more.
"You did very well here tonight," She complimented, returning to a slightly more professional tone. "Not everyone would have stepped in when it looked like a hero had done something wrong, especially if it were against a suspected gang member."
"To be fair," I said, fidgeting a bit. "She failed to mention the E88 ties. Or the assault. I'm not certain I'd have been as empathetic had I known."
Miss Militia nodded. "It's good that you admit that. Regardless, you did the right thing by bringing this to our attention. Even gang members deserve due process. Have you considered joining the Protectorate or Wards?"
I shook my head. "I'm not really hero material," I started, but Miss Militia interrupted me.
"I disagree. Stepping in when someone is doing wrong, especially using powers, is exactly what heroes are supposed to do. You saw a potential crime in progress and stepped in to prevent it. You remained on-task and professional even when faced with a lack of procedural knowledge and ensured the victim got prompt medical treatment while preserving evidence for an investigation."
I shook my head again. "I just didn't want to see Panacea being manipulated. She was about to report it to the authorities herself, but her sister was convincing her not to."
"And when the situation became unstable, you intervened," Miss Militia butted in, stubbornly refusing to let me wave it off. "That takes both bravery and a strong sense of right and wrong. I'm sorry, Ruby, but I don't believe you. I think you'd make an excellent hero."
I shut my mouth. My emotions were roiling like a storm cloud within me, so intense that even Introspection seemed overwhelmed. Or rather, it could tell me exactly what was going on, but there were just so many emotions and changes that I couldn't keep track without putting Multitasking to work trying to decipher it all.
I both loved and hated receiving compliments. I could never process them, and I certainly couldn't internalize them. I would often go looking for compliments, trying to get anyone at all to see me or something I did in a positive light, but when I actually did receive compliments, I was almost fundamentally incapable of accepting them. I just couldn't internalize that any quality of myself was good, and it left me feeling overwhelmed.
I was briefly tempted to find whatever part of my brain was responsible for that and shut it down as well, but I firmly tamped down that temptation. Suppressing my fear was bad enough, and I'd been slowly easing back on that as time went on to hopefully prevent a total breakdown. Maybe Shapeshifting was a little too versatile.
So, as had long since become a habit, I decided to avoid the problem by thinking of something else. Mainly, the offer to join the government stooge-perheroes. Specifically, why I didn't want to. The first and simplest answer was trust. I didn't trust the government. Not in my world or this new world. The Protectorate were government funded, which meant they were also government restricted. If I wanted to actually make a positive difference in this world, I'd likely be hamstrung at every opportunity by paperwork and bureaucracy. I understood that many of those processes were put into place for good reason, but systems exist to be misused and exploited, which would cause a buildup of more and more patchwork procedures and protocols to address ever-increasing issues that could be fixed by expensive higher-level changes. Plus, there was no guarantee I wouldn't be ordered to do something morally or ethically wrong in the service of pencil-pushers and politicians who didn't know what it was like to put boots on the ground.
On top of that, I had no idea how the government would treat my ever-increasing number of powers, skills, companions, and items. I was absolutely terrified they'd try to take advantage of me, turning me into a living power dispenser or a weapon to point at all their problems. There was also the possibility that they found me too unreliable and dangerous and just decided to kill me or lock me away forever on trumped-up charges.
The second was capability. Like I'd said, I wasn't hero material. I was a wreck with too many neurological issues to count (shut up Introspection) and absolutely no support system. Who was I to decide what was heroic and what wasn't? I was a coward who hated conflict of all kinds. I froze up in the face of the smallest threats. I had frequent breakdowns. I avoided problems rather than face them. The fact that I'd gotten up this morning was a miracle only possible through a literal magic gambling system that was slowly changing me in ways I'd just now realised were existentially terrifying and that I'd 100% be avoiding thinking about for as long as possible.
The third reason was my curse. Simply put, I didn't think I'd be allowed to join the hero team. If they had some sort of dorm for me to stay in, or required I had a physical address, I was screwed. Until I found a way to be in the top 1% of wealth, which likely required I at least have an identity, I couldn't sleep under any roof or own property. Maybe if I got some sort of trait that made me no longer need sleep it wouldn't be an issue, but until then I was stuck. How the hell would I explain that, anyway? "Sorry, I have power-enforced homelessness that only goes away if I become filthy rich"? That would've gone over well.
Not to mention, I had that Mortal Enemy thing. If I kept my head down for as long as possible, I may've been able to build up enough to defeat them, whoever they were, before they noticed me. Assuming of course they didn't just know where I was the moment I was dropped here, but with how powerful they were supposed to be I figured they'd have had some way of getting here by now if that was the case.
If I became a government hero, they'd likely learn about me a lot sooner than if I stayed under the radar, which would put a target on the backs of not just me, but my entire potential team. I couldn't be responsible for that. It was best if I just went it alone.
Now, in the interest of fairness, I decided to let myself think about the pros of becoming a pro hero. First was community. If I joined the local hero squad, I'd be part of a community of people like myself who likely wanted to use their power to help people, or at least get paid for using their powers positively. I might be able to make friends, maybe even a sort of found family, and I was self-aware enough to admit that was something I desperately needed. Hell, I'd just earlier today met with a group of known villains on the off-chance I could make a friend! Granted, I wasn't actually expecting to do so, but it's the principle of the thing!
Second was structure and training. Simply put, superpowered cops needed to be trained not to hurt themselves or others. If I joined the heroes, I'd likely receive training in my abilities, learn how to exploit them even better than I already had been, and learn how to handle a variety of situations with or without them. I'd have a solid command structure where if something went down I could fall back on following orders instead of panicking and trying to figure it all out for myself. Assuming the entire command structure wasn't also shit, which was a possibility in government jobs.
Additionally, if I joined and that Mortal Enemy came after me, I'd potentially have more people to back me up. Who knows? One of them might even be close enough in strength to defeat them, or at least buy me time to get away. I somehow doubted it, but it was a nice thought.
Third was money and identity. The heroes could probably get me a legal identity, and if they weren't being paid a decent wage for hazards and being used as marketing icons then I'd personally start a fucking Union. I knew nothing about unions other than that they were twisted on their head to be largely worse than the original companies by the time I reached employment age back home, but I'd start one. Somehow.
That meant an income. A fully legal one, rather than the dubious gem selling and bribes I'd been getting by on so far. I doubted it'd be enough to break my curse on its own, but it sure was a hell of a lot better than what I had going on at the moment. Also, I'd be able to afford meds and therapy, so that was another plus.
Fourth, and I just realized this, was growth. It'd provide me ample opportunity to do notable things that could potentially earn me tickets. The more tickets I got, the stronger I became, and the more likely I was to survive this hellhole when one of the walking natural disasters inevitably decided my current location needed a total remodeling, or some other S-class decided Earth was boring and it was time for an apocalypse or something. Also, again, Mortal Enemy.
Honestly, after taking the time to consider both sides, it wasn't as cut and dry as I'd been letting myself believe. I didn't think I'd make a good hero, but the professional hero in front of me disagreed, and it did provide a lot of opportunities for growth and support, assuming I was correct about literally any of what I was guessing in terms of pros.
Miss Militia had just been patiently waiting for me to answer her question while I'd been thinking, and I felt kind of bad about it. I felt my cheeks warm a bit and looked away from her eyes.
"There's a number of reasons for me to say 'no'," I started hesitantly. "But… could I think about it for a while? Get back to you later?"
Miss Militia smiled again. "Of course. I'll give you my card, that way you can call once you've made a decision. I do hope I get to work with you more in the future, Ruby. You have a lot of potential."
I just nodded, not wanting to argue, and accepted the business card she handed me. It was decorated with an American flag, with the name 'MISS MILITIA' in bold at the top, followed by a phone number.
"Do you have a number we can contact you at about tonight?" Militia added.
"Not at the moment, no," I replied. "I'm ah, still settling in."
Miss Militia nodded. "I understand. I'll let you go about your evening, Miss Ruby. Thank you again for your help. Do reach out if you have any questions or need anything."
I nodded, shaking her hand again when she presented it, then watched her walk away, definitely not because her hips had a very nice sway to them as she rejoined the rest of the PRT squad. Once I seemed to have been more or less forgotten about, I ducked into another alley and climbed up onto the roof.
I plopped down on the rooftop with an exhausted huff, then yelped as something slid beneath me. I stood partly back up and reached for my behind where that something had stuck, and knew almost instantly what it was. Sure enough, a familiar laminated card greeted me with its cheerful bold lettering that made me want to light it on fire:
Congratulations! You prevented a superhero coverup! Take x1 Silver Trait Gacha Ticket.
Congratulations! You resisted a targeted Master effect! Take x1 Silver Ability Gacha Ticket.
Congratulations! You earned the (begrudging) respect of Amy Dallon! Take x1 Gold Familiar Gacha Ticket.
Congratulations! You impressed Miss Militia with your leadership capabilities! Take x1 Gold Skill Gacha Ticket.
Whoa. I got four tickets for that? I barely did anything! I just showed up and convinced Amy to do what she wanted to do anyway and yelled at Glory Girl for being a spoiled brat! As for "resisting" a targeted Master effect, I literally just figured out how to turn off parts of my brain in what I was absolutely certain was an extremely unhealthy fashion so I could continue losing my cool at said spoiled brat. There was nothing impressive about any of that!
Urrrrrrggg! Whatever. Tickets were tickets, and I was just thinking about how I needed to get as many as I could for multiple reasons. Gift horse, mouth, etc. etc. Two gold tickets was really nice, too, but I decided to start with the silvers. I pulled the trait ticket first, hoping for something as useful as Multitasking and Mithril Skeleton:
[Ambidextrous]
|Common Trait|
You are perfectly ambidextrous, you can use both of your arms and hands as if they were both dominant hands. The same applies to all of your limbs, perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
I… To be honest, I really didn't know what to think about that trait. I'd take it, but I'd have to see just how useful it'd be later. Next, the ability ticket:
[Great Lightning Spear]
|Rare Ability|
Allows the user to conjure a spear of lightning that they can throw as a projectile (does not travel at lightning speed). This spear possesses penetrative power and deals increased damage against draconic entities and rends their powerful scales and hides, nulling their defence.
Oh hey! An anti-Lung weapon! Sure would've been useful a day ago! Then again, I wasn't really attacking him. I was just trying to survive. This could potentially come in handy if I ever had to face him again, though. Hopefully I'll have gotten at least one more slot by then. Shapeshifting and Crystals were just way too valuable to give up.
Next, the first gold ticket, which I apparently got for earning Panacea's respect. Was that really hard to do or something? Maybe it was just because of the context? I had no idea. She was cute, though. I might have to check up on her later, see if she's doing alright:
[Aerodactyl]
|Uncommon Familiar|
Pokemon - An ancient cross between a pterodactyl and a mountain, this giant lizard used to dominate the skies with its immense strength and geokinetic abilities.
I now wished I'd interacted more with the world of Pokemon. I knew absolutely nothing about Aerodactyl. What it looked like, how big it was, what its abilities and types were, though by the description I had to guess rock/flying. Even if I somehow magically knew its moveset, that didn't tell me what those moves actually did in the real world. Could it learn new moves? Could it evolve? Could it mega-evolve? I somehow doubted the Gacha came with a stone for every pokemon that could mega-evolve.
If Pokemon existed in this world, I had some research to do. Hopefully pokemon became popular before Kyushu sank.
Not wanting to dwell on that fun little factoid any further, I moved on to the last ticket; the gold skill ticket I got by impressing Miss Militia, who wasn't even at the fucking incident and was still somehow impressed, but whatever:
[Caryll Runecraft]
|Elite Skill|
The Outer Ones beyond the stars whisper to you, and allow you to catch glimpses of their knowledge in the form of runes. You can memorize the runes of the Outer Gods to acquire some boons. But you will have to study to memorize the runes given to you. You can only have three runes active at a time.
"Well, that answers that question," I whispered. I only had a moment to process what I was reading before my mind was slammed by whispers and images. I saw dark, dreary caves, caverns, and cathedrals. I saw misty lights and men that hunted beasts while becoming beasts themselves. I saw secrets written in blood, their echoes passed from hunter to hunter, each growing in strength from the deaths of others. I saw poisons that tainted the blood, weakening slowly or consuming rapidly. I saw creatures that defied logic, their very beings an assault on the mind. And behind it all, I saw the runes.
I didn't understand them, not really. Each gave only a vague impression; the faintest suggestion as to how they might aid me, should I only reach out and grasp them. A lake. A great sea. A twisted cross, backwards and forwards. The claws of a beast; the marks it left behind. These were just a few of the images that circled in my mind, whispering promises of power and skill, but also dark thoughts of blood, death, and beasthood.
I had the knowledge to study these runes wherever I pleased. I could burn them into my mind like brands, imparting their effects onto my reality through study alone. Each came in groups, with successive iterations more potent than the last. Despite this, I knew each was unique, and I could only choose three.
The whispers faded, the images slipping away to the back of my mind, ready to come at my call. I sat up, having collapsed on the rooftop. Parker was nudging me frantically, chattering with worry. I reached down and pet her head, reassuring her that I was alright.
"Hey. It's okay. I'm alright. Just had some eldritch knowledge unceremoniously dumped into my head is all."
Parker cawed at me with a look that somehow seemed admonishing and worried both, and I couldn't help but smile. Choosing her was definitely, definitely the right decision.
"I found out that skills can be supernatural, too," I said. "Like traits. Which really makes me wonder why there's a limit on how many abilities I can have active at once. Then again, considering what I've managed with just two abilities…"
I trailed off, spending some time just petting Parker and processing everything that had happened in the last hour. My life really was completely crazy. I'd finished easing off my fear suppression by now, and was able to process the implications a little better now that I wasn't actively freaking out, though I still didn't want to get that deep into it. I could manipulate my own brain chemistry to a degree. Yippee. If I could figure out how to master it, maybe I could do something about my cornucopia of mental issues. On the same token, I really didn't want to be poking around in my gray matter. Shapeshifting prevented me from injuring myself, but I had no idea whether that covered purely mental injuries, such as personality shifts or loss of memory.
At this point, I was just exhausted. I should've been freaking out, but I just felt numb. I knew it was partially a depression thing (thanks again, Introspection), but I also really was just that tired. I needed sleep.
With a tired sigh, I shifted back to my avian form and took off, flying low and slow so as to avoid crashing my tired ass into a building or something, and made my way to the park. In just a few minutes, I was in my tent, under my covers, with a soft, rumbling crow snuggled up against me. A few more minutes later, I was out like a light.
I did not sleep well. I woke up at every animal call, passing car, or strong breeze. What little sleep I did get was fitful and restless, interspersed with bouts of depressed mini-panic attacks that just left me feeling miserable. By the time I had actually slept enough to feel even a bit rested, it was noon.
I stared at the ceiling, again, for way too long. I didn't even have a big list of things I needed to do today. Sure, there were a number of things I could have done that would have improved my situation: look into getting a stall at the market; contact Lisa to ask how that identity thing was going (which gave me all sorts of conflicted feelings, especially after last night); do some more shopping for clothes, vitamins, or other essentials; do more research at the library, especially about the Protectorate and Wards; etcetera etcetera.
However, have I mentioned that depression sucks?
It took Parker growing impatient and pecking at my lashes (fucking ow, you rude bird!) to even get me to open the tent and let her out to fly around for a while. After a couple minutes of her doing whatever, she came back and stood outside the tent door, staring at me. She cawed, and I just looked at her. She cawed again, louder this time.
"No," I grumbled, voice hoarse from my rough night. "No Anneka today. Maybe tomorrow."
Parker hopped into the tent, getting right up close to me. I reached out to pet her idly, but she pecked my finger and cawed directly in my fucking ear.
"Ow! What the hell, Parker?!" I hissed, slapping a hand over the affected sensory orifice.
The little shit just hopped out of the tent, fluttered her wings, and stared at me. When I continued to glare at her, she tossed her head as if gesturing for me to follow.
"No," I grumbled, dropping back onto the pillow and pulling my sleeping bag up over my face. "I had a bad day. Just let me sleep."
I heard some shuffling – the sound of Parker hopping back into the tent. A few seconds later, there was a small tug on the sleeping bag. Then another. Then another. After four tugs, I heard the zipper being stutteringly jerked along its track, trailing slowly down the length of the bag.
I groaned incoherently, trying to tighten the slowly parting bag around myself, but Parker pecked at my fingers whenever I did, always somehow being in exactly the right spot to do so. Finally, as she began trying to awkwardly shove the unzipped bag open further, I tossed the top off and leveled a glare her way.
"You're a little shit," I grumbled.
The crow crowed happily.
"Fuck that. Fuck this, fuck life. I'm not dealing with it today," I said, then swapped Shapeshifting for Cat Form and tugged it all the way. "I'm a cat today. Deal with it."
I could have sworn Parker fucking shrugged at that and hopped right back out of the tent, tossing her head again. I grumbled, my new form making it come out as a discontented feline growl, and slid out of the tent after her. I paused, looking back at it. All of my stuff, even my clothes, was either in the tent or under a tarp tied down beside it under some branches. I'd taken my clothes all off last night for my flight, and didn't even realise I'd been sleeping in the buff. That explained the extra chill, then.
"You're gonna have to close the tent," I mewled. "I'm not changing back. I'm a cat today, and cats don't have thumbs."
Parker gave me the most deadpan expression I'd ever seen from a bird, enough to make me snicker, then hopped onto my back, eliciting a startled yowl from me as she used my head as a stepping stool to grab the door zipper in her beak and tug it down, closing the little shelter off as well as a crow could. It was honestly impressive.
That done, she cawed impatiently at me, then flew off, landing on a branch a little closer to the city proper. I tried to shrug, but only ended up flicking my tail, then followed, not sure what exactly I planned to do as a cat but willing to go along with it anyway. It was better than wallowing in my tent and reflecting on any of what had happened recently.
As it turned out, being a cat and wandering around the city, slipping under fences and through tight gaps, was actually kind of fun. Sure, there was a lot of gross shit in the alleys and abandoned buildings, but that was nothing new, and avoiding the worst of it was incredibly easy.
I stumbled across scent markings for other cats a few times, mostly in the more residential areas, but never ran into one myself. That was good, since I didn't really want to get caught up in a territorial dispute. I would win, obviously, but I didn't want to hurt someone else's cat just because they didn't realize they were outclassed.
My instincts were definitely sharper and more feline like this. Flutters of motion drew my eye like a hunter in the bush, and I had to occasionally remind myself that Parker was a friend, not food or a chase toy. It was slightly concerning, but I pushed the concern aside in favor of cat. After all, I was a cat, and a cat is what I was. Concerns were for silly humans.
I turned down yet another alleyway and saw a tall, thin man with graying hair leaning against a door, an unlit cigarette in his hand. He looked sad and smelled stressed, so I padded up to him and sat down. He didn't seem to notice me, instead just staring out into the distance. I meowed at him.
He looked down, startled, and met my eyes, then smiled softly. "Hey, kitty. You want a treat?"
I stopped myself from nodding and just meowed again, flicking my tail behind me. Nods were for humans, and I was a cat. If he didn't understand me, that was his own fault. He should have learned to speak cat, like me.
He chuckled, stuffing the unlit cigarette into his shirt pocket. "Alright, stay right there. I'll be back in a second."
I waited while he disappeared into the door he'd been leaning on, which smelled like some sort of bar or restaurant, then came back a few moments later with a slice of pepperoni. He knelt down and offered it to me, and I took it, scarfing it down happily. It was just pepperoni, sure, but I hadn't eaten yet today, and free food was free food.
The man chuckled again and—ooh, that felt nice. I arched my back into his touch and purred, rubbing my cheek against his ankle to mark him for later. This was a nice one, and he knew how to treat his betters. Claiming him as mine only made sense.
"You're very clean, little miss," The man commented gruffly, running his fingers through my fur. "Did you run away from home?"
I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't. After letting the man pet me for a little longer, I pulled away and walked off, not even offering a goodbye. After all, he should be honored that I graced him with my presence for the time that I did.
Too much? Too much.
"Stay safe, small one," the man called as I slipped around the corner again. What a nice fellow. I'd have to leave him something nice. Actually…
"Parker, find something shiny that no one's using. No stealing, just scavenging."
My crow cawed obediently and flew off, leaving me to just sit and lick myself. I hadn't groomed properly since the previous night, and I'd been building up just a bit of a stench wandering around the streets like this. It didn't take long for Parker to return with what looked like a necklace of some sort. She landed and dropped it in front of me, and I saw it was some sort of locket.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked, a little concerned. It was dirty and didn't smell like it'd been handled recently, but I was still cautious. Parker had a bit of a loose definition of what counted as stealing.
Parker croaked, then fluttered over to a dumpster and pecked it.
"It was thrown away? Why?"
Parker looked at me as if to say "You're asking me? I'm a crow."
I chuffed. Right, that didn't matter, now. Besides, I was a cat. I'd been doing too much talking and not enough being a cat. I picked up the locket and wandered back towards the man, who had finally lit his cigarette. It reeked, so I stopped at the mouth of the alley instead of getting closer and meowed at him. It came out a bit funny around the locket in my teeth.
The man looked over at me, amusement in his gaze. "You're back already? What's that you've got?"
I sat down and set the locket on the ground, then meowed again. The man started to approach, but I backed away, glaring at the cigarette. He paused, not seeming to understand, so I sneezed, then meowed. His eyes widened in understanding, and he laughed. "Not a fan of the cigs, are ya? That's okay, neither am I, really."
He dropped the cigarette and stomped it out, then made his way closer. I didn't step away this time, even though he still reeked of tobacco. He bent down and picked up the locket, examining it carefully. He whistled a little under his breath. "I'll be damned. This looks like real silver. Where'd a little cat like you find something like this?"
I just meowed at him again, giving him my best "bitch, I'm a cat" expression, and he chuckled.
"Well thanks, little one. I'd been wondering what to get my niece for her birthday next week and I think this fits the bill quite nicely."
I mewed quietly in agreement, then marked his ankle one more time and continued on my way. He called out one last thank you before I turned the corner and continued down the street.
My next target was the boardwalk. Specifically, the various food carts set up along the boardwalk. Luckily it was still the latter end of lunch hour for most people, so there were plenty of options to choose from. I wandered around for a bit, sticking to the edges of the street out of the way of people walking around. No one paid me a second glance, seeing as I was just a cat.
I followed my nose to find something worth snatching, and eventually came upon what looked like a food truck selling tacos. I debated with myself on how I wanted to go about getting some food, since I didn't really want to steal from the truck even if I was going full cat-mode. Besides, I might get chased away and then my chances of eating went down dramatically. Eventually, I decided to try something that might seem a little suspicious in a world of superheroes, but could also be kind of funny if people played along.
I convinced Parker to fly around and gather lost coins—dollar coins being a priority—and to avoid stealing from people directly, then waited. After just a few minutes, she returned with a beak full of enough change to hopefully afford a fish taco, which I took from her with a nod. Cash in hand—er, well, mouth—I made my way towards the food truck casually and stepped into line behind a young couple and waited my turn politely.
At first, no one noticed me, but when what looked like a highschooler tried to step into line, I made my presence known as loudly as I could around a mouthful of change, which startled both her and the couple in front of me.
"Sorry," the probably-highschooler said. "Is this your cat?"
The man shook his head. "Never seen it before. Is it… waiting in line?"
I meowed in response. Of course I was waiting in line! I'd been here for two minutes already! It wasn't my fault humans were oblivious.
The woman barked out a laugh. "I guess he's hungry!"
I growled at that. I was no filthy tom! I was a regal she-cat and deserved to be treated with reverence and grace like the goddess I was!
The humans, not understanding my correction, just laughed again and went back to waiting. The highschooler took a photo of me with her phone, which I did my best to pose for. I had to look as good as possible for my first photo online, after all.
That thought nearly made me break character with a snicker. I had no doubt I'd end up on the internet at some point. The idea of the first photo of me anyone saw being a literal cat photo was somehow very funny to me. I hoped that photo got shared around.
Eventually, the couple in front of me gave their order and stood off to the side to wait for it to be done. When the guy at the window called for the next customer, I just stood beneath the window and waited to be acknowledged. If he couldn't see me, he'd just have to lean outside. Someone should have to put in effort besides myself, after all.
The highschooler snickered behind me, holding up her phone and pointing its camera at me. She must've been recording a video. Eventually, the cashier must've caught on that something was up. He leaned out the window and looked down. I met his eyes and meowed at him around my coins.
"Uhhhhh…" The likely overworked and underpaid customer service drone stated eloquently. To his credit, he did recover quickly. With a slight smile, he asked, "You gonna order something?"
He probably wasn't expecting me to leap up to the window, set down my change, and place my paw on the menu right under the hard-shell fish taco option. The woman from before gasped, the highschooler laughed, and the cashier just looked completely lost. I meowed at him again to snap him out of it. C'mon, dude! I'm hungry over here!
"Is that a cat?" A man—probably the cook—asked from inside. A moment later, he peeked out and looked directly at me, then at the change and where I put my paw. He laughed. "Hungry lil' gato, aren't you? Shane, pick your jaw up off the floor, it's unsanitary. Someone probably just trained 'im."
I huffed. What was it with everyone assuming I was a tom? I thought cats were usually associated with feminine things? Whatever. I meowed again impatiently, and the now-named Shane shook his head and blinked before counting out my change. "You're about 50¢ short, uh, kitty."
Shit. How would I play this one? I couldn't acknowledge that I was short on change since that would display far more intelligence than even the smartest cat had, but I also couldn't just back out. I was in too deep. Plus, those tacos smelled amazing and I really wanted one. Maybe Parker? If I could get her attention, could I have her find me some more change without giving the game away?
Luckily, the previous couple took pity on me, the woman dropping two quarters on my little pile with a giggle. She patted me as she withdrew, and I showed my thanks by purring and marking her. She smelled like she had a dog at home. Good for her. Despite my current self, I quite liked dogs. They were kind, loyal companions. Cats were little shits that thought they were better than you and that you should bow down and revere them. As a cat, I was contractually obligated to agree with this opinion, but I still liked dogs.
Shaking his head and looking like I was somehow the strangest thing this guy had ever seen, Shane took the money and put in my order. "I'll uh, just put that under 'Cat'."
Acceptable. I jumped down from the window and sat next to the couple's feet to wait for my order. The highschooler seemed to narrate into her phone for a minute before finally moving up to give her own order. I just waited patiently.
The couple's food came up not long after, but instead of walking away they decided to stick around, likely to see what I'd do when my own order came up. Sure enough, a couple minutes later, my "name" was called and a large hard-shell taco was set out at the window. I leapt up and inspected my prize. There was a lot of fish—it seemed the cook added extra meat in exchange for less lettuce. Considerate, I supposed, but I happened to like lettuce. Oh well. I was a cat today, and cats liked meat.
That then led to a different problem; mainly, I had no idea how to get this thing down safely. If I tried to pick it up, even if I could keep it balanced while holding it in my mouth without the paper basket folding, it would jostle violently the moment I jumped down to the ground and I'd lose it all. Plus, I'd probably end up with taco all over my coat.
I looked between the ground and my brunch a couple times, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, one of my adoring fans took pity on me. My eyes followed my taco as it was removed from the counter and set on the ground. I quickly jumped down to follow it, not bothering to even check who had helped me out. I gave a half-hearted mewl of appreciation, then grabbed the paper basket and started dragging it away to the side of the street, laughter and cheers following in my wake.
There were more photos and videos taken by passers-by while I ate. I ended up just hollowing out the shell and eating it last, since a lack of hands made eating tacos as designed rather challenging. Parker joined me at one point, helping me finish the tough shell. I let her have most of that part, having filled up on the fillings. Once we were done, I took the paper basket to a nearby trash bin, jumped up to the edge, and dropped it in, to yet more applause. It seemed my audience had stuck around longer than anticipated. Humans were so easily entertained.
Deciding I'd had enough of the spotlight for now, I retreated into the nearest alleyway to clean myself. I'd been careful while eating to avoid making too much of a mess, but my chest fur was still a little damp from taco sauces. It was the work of moments to finish it, and when I did, I saw a familiar card sitting just a couple feet from me. Seriously? That was noteworthy enough for a ticket?
Congratulations! You ordered lunch on the boardwalk as an Ordinary Cat™! Take x1 Bronze Skill Gacha Ticket.
Apparently my little prank was noteworthy enough to count. Only a bronze, though. Still, I'd take it. I could always use another skill.
With great difficulty and liberal use of both my tongue and my teeth, I managed to grab the tab of the ticket and give it a pull:
[Novice Discipline]
|Common Skill|
You have basic discipline. You are able to endure slight hardship, able to force yourself to eat things you don't want to eat and study when you don't want to but your discipline is not that much greater than the average person.
And suddenly I was reminded of all the things I should've been doing today other than messing around as a cat. I almost decided right there to call it quits and go do exactly that. Luckily, the skill was only Novice level, and while I was sure that would help immensely in the future, especially with my ADHD constantly weighing me down, I was giving myself today to disassociate from it all. Sure, I hadn't even been here a week yet, but I'd been under immense stress lately and needed a break.
That decided, I discarded the silly human gambling thing and continued being a cat. I briefly wondered if other people could see and pull from Gacha cards I left behind? That would be pretty bad if they could, especially since the only thing I tended to leave behind were Curse Wheels, which were still showing up on the back of each card.
I shook my head. None of that. Not my problem. I was a cat, and a cat is what I was. Worries were for silly humans to make them miserable about what might happen in the future. As the good book says: tomorrow can worry about itself.
I spent the next hour or so just wandering around the boardwalk, marking people I liked and chasing filthy flying rats. I tried chasing a seagull at one point, but the thing was as large as I was and didn't appreciate me keeping it from snatching some poor four-year-old's candy bar. Now that was a battle for the ages. A life and death struggle—me with my claws and human intellect, the seagull with its wicked beak and endless cruelty. Our battle would be sung about for years to come!
If it had happened, that is. I just ran when the giant bird didn't immediately retreat, and the kid's mom noticed the commotion in time to pick up her son and carry him elsewhere. At least, I assumed she was his mom. Could've been a sister or an aunt for all I knew.
After my tactical cowardice, I managed to witness an honest-to-God purse-snatching. There was no dramatic snatch and run, no helpless damsel crying out for a hero. The purse was just hung up on the back of a chair, its owner having gotten up to refill her coffee or something, and an opportunistic teen just casually snagged it as he was walking by. Didn't even look away from where he was going. Honestly it might've been somewhat impressive if it hadn't been, y'know, stealing.
With an internal sigh, I decided I might as well do something about it. I trotted over to where the teen was still walking, about to turn onto a side street, and wound around underfoot as he went, taking inspiration from my grandma's cat Smokey. That little pest loved getting underfoot and constantly marking me whenever I'd visit. He was old, too, so I was constantly worried I'd trip and break his spine. Luckily that wasn't a risk with me, here.
The teen, too focused on trying to look casual, was easily tripped. He stumbled, and I took the opportunity to jump up just enough to snag the purse from his loosened grip and run, its strap dragging behind me as I made my way back towards its owner, who had just returned to notice it gone. A small part of me said I should just keep it, or dig through it a bit myself, to teach her a lesson about leaving her stuff behind in the open like an idiot. I easily silenced that intrusive thought.
The lady gasped when I approached, bag in mouth. I heard the teen behind me suddenly stop and turn around, likely deciding the purse was a lost cause. The oblivious lady didn't even notice him.
"Hey, kitty," The lady cooed as I set the purse down in front of her. Side note: I was apparently a terrible cat. A proper cat would've ignored the whole thing. I guess I really was more of a dog person after all.
The lady thanked me and spent a few moments petting me. I let her because it felt nice, but I was still a bit annoyed at her, so I didn't bother marking her. She'd be covered enough in my scent just petting me, after all. After I'd had my fill, I turned to leave again, only to see another Gacha card stuck to the bottom of her chair. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the card, and found a secluded spot to look it over.
Congratulations! You stopped a robbery as an Ordinary Cat™! Take x1 Bronze Skill Gacha Ticket.
I rolled my eyes again. I'd hardly say that qualified as a robbery, but whatever. Apparently doing things as a cat was entertaining enough to the Gacha gods to grant low-level tickets for it. On the one hand, it seemed easily exploitable, and of course I'd never say no to more free tickets. On the other hand, it reminded me once again of my situation. Apparently even choosing to be a cat for the day wasn't enough to escape the nonsensical hell that was my life now.
I struggled again, but soon enough managed to pull the ticket:
[Intermediate Conceptualization]
|Uncommon Skill|
Conceptualization is your ability to understand what is beyond the mundane. You are an intermediate at comprehending the Mystical and Esoteric. You learn and master magic faster, and you are better at understanding the composition of abilities and esoteric effects.
In a world of superpowers, that seemed like the kind of skill I would want to have. Hopefully it'd allow me to make sense of my own powers a bit easier, or to understand the mechanics behind the powers of people I ended up fighting—or fleeing from—in the future. I could also see it helping with that Caryll Runecraft thing if I ever decided to go back to that, though I was sort of putting it off. I knew the runes could give me various buffs, but I didn't like delving into the whispers. The last time I did it, it had been overwhelming, and no amount of Multitasking protected me from the sheer breadth and strangeness of the whispers.
It made sense. I could tell now that those whispers were, in a way, the language of reality. Concepts and rules made manifest as language. To listen to them for too long is to invite madness, though my Runecraft skill seemed to protect me from it when it came to the ones directly related to the runes themselves. Still, it wasn't fun, and I wasn't eager to get back into it.
I sighed. So much for just being a cat; apparently I couldn't even disassociate properly. At this point, I might as well just head back 'home', get dressed, and get shit done.
Of course, that didn't mean I couldn't have some more fun along the way…
Congratulations! You prevented a mugging as an Ordinary Cat™! Take x1 Silver Ability Gacha Ticket.
Congratulations! You went viral on the internet as an Ordinary Cat™! Take x1 Silver Skill Gacha Ticket.
Congratulations! You convinced someone to quit drinking (as an Ordinary Cat™)! Take x1 Bronze Random Gacha Ticket.
Heh. That last one was pretty funny. Turns out sitting down next to someone who was nearly blackout drunk in the middle of the afternoon as a cat and just chatting with them can really fuck with their head. I didn't realize the poor fellow decided to quit drinking over it, but good for him.
The first one was completely by chance, as were most of the things I did today, really. I saw one of those nazi-tatted assholes tailing a latino couple with a switchblade and took exception to it. Now he had a bloody hand and a fear of cats, and I had a new switchblade. And a silver ticket, apparently, which was a nice bonus.
The virality thing I had no idea about. My best guess was that the video the highschooler took of me at lunch made the rounds a lot faster than I expected. I made a note to check it out the next time I was at the library. Cat videos ruled the internet back home, so perhaps it was the same here. I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was.
I opened a pack of jerky and took a bite, then decided to get to the tickets. I started with the bronze one, since it was unique and relatively "low value". Something something roll the lower ones first, I think?
[Junimo]
|Common Familiar|
Stardew Valley - Junimos are lesser forest spirits and are called the keepers of the forest. They are supernaturally good at maintaining forests, wildlands, and farms, as well as farming effectively, but lack any offensive abilities. You get 50 Junimos, and that number increases as you get stronger.
Shit, I'd forgotten about Stardew Valley! I never got around to finishing it. Then again, I never managed to get super into it despite trying repeatedly. I could just never manage the energy bar and didn't have enough resources to buy or make food to keep it up. It resulted in an endless loop of basic crop care followed by spending all my energy in the mines to try and get as much money as possible, plus gifts for… I think her name was Emily? I don't remember. She had blue hair. After exhausting myself in the mines I'd rush home before passing out, go to bed, and repeat the next day. It was tedious so I eventually just stopped trying.
Anyway, Junimos! I currently lived in a sort-of forest, so they would probably be helpful? If nothing else, they were colorful little bouncy spirits that could keep me company. I immediately pulled them out of Gachaspace and watched them bounce around for a bit. Some of them immediately set to work cleaning up the little forested area of the park I was in; picking up trash and used needles I hadn't even known were there and improving the health of nearby plants.
Mood slightly improved by the presence of bouncy friends, I moved on to the Ability ticket:
[Remember Me?]
|Elite Ability|
No, they don't. While Remember Me is active, everyone who knows you temporarily forgets about you and nobody you encounter can remember you or recall your exact features.
Wow. Stealth build achieved. That sounded like what the PRT would call a Stranger power, and a decently strong one. I already had the ability to blend in with Shapeshifting, but this would take that to the next level. If I were a more villainously inclined person, this would add another layer to obfuscate my identity and make it easier to get into and out of places I shouldn't be in. The fact that I would be forgotten by everyone who knew me sounded kind of shitty, though, and would make working in a team with this power active a nightmare.
All in all, a decent pull, and it added to my total abilities. Just two more and I'd get another slot, assuming I was correct about five being the magic number.
Finally, the skill ticket:
[Intermediate Cooking]
|Uncommon Skill|
You are as skilled as a seasoned chef, your cooking is better than most people with you being able to make complex dishes without much problem and most of the food you cook tastes pretty good.
I paused after reading the skill description, then glanced down at the jerky in my hand. I immediately thought of a dozen things I could make with just the ingredients on hand, which was actually extremely exciting. I'd always liked to cook. It was a great way to relieve stress and get out of my own head for a bit. I was just terrible at improvisation. Anything I made I had to have been guided through at least once, usually multiple times, or have a recipe I could follow. The fact that my mom could look into the pantry at all the random crap and come up with something to make for dinner every night always seemed like a superpower. Now I could do that too! It only took a magical gambling ticket supernaturally implanting the skill into my brain.
I took a few moments to think over my options, then grabbed my impromptu ingredient tub and set to work. I didn't have a lot in terms of ingredients—mostly just canned goods and a few things from the camping section—but I did have ingredients for a simple jerky fried rice dish. Granted, using instant rice would make it a little duller, and swapping out sesame oil for canola would alter the thickness and general flavor profile noticeably, but hopefully I'd be able to overcome that. It beat plain rice and gluten-free oatmeal. Plus, I'd grabbed a small carton of shelf-stable eggs, the kind with a little dirt on them from the farm, meaning they were unwashed and thus less likely to contain something nasty that the cuticle would keep out.
I started by gently sauteing some dried onion flakes to make them more pliable. I'd have preferred being able to caramelize them, but with how small and dry they were it was unlikely to work. While I did that, I carefully chopped several strips of jerky into small chunks, then sliced them further until they were almost rendered down into individual fibers and set them aside. That done, and with my onions as sauteed as I thought I was going to get them, I grabbed my pot and set some water boiling, then cooked up the instant rice—instant my fuzzy ass—and scrambled the eggs. I then mixed it all together, added a tiny touch of sugar and some Tamari I had been quite happy to find, and let it heat for a bit, stirring occasionally to heat it evenly.
Voila! Simple, cheap, easy jerky fried rice, and I didn't even need to go back to the store! Who needs a pantry? I can make dinner from random camp ingredients! Take that, mom!
…
I stared at the bowl in front of me, hands lightly trembling. A heat built behind my eyes, and Introspection told me—
Nope! None of that! No sads! I will be cat again if I must!
Parker seemed to agree, as she fluttered over to my shoulder, nuzzled me affectionately, and started stealing my fried rice, the little shit!
"Oi! Mine! Get yer own, ya menace!" I hissed, moving the bowl away from the thieving avian. Parker simply fluttered onto my wrist and stole some more, so I swapped hands, swinging the bowl carefully the other way. I laughed and shrieked as I tried valiantly to defend my meal, spilling several large spoonfuls onto the ground in the scuffle. Eventually, Parker conceded defeat and retreated to the ground to pick up what was dropped. I sat back down with a victorious huff and started to eat—
The bowl was already half empty.
"You dumb bird! You made me spill it all!"
Parker let out a series of low croaks that were definitely laughter as she pecked up the remaining spilled rice, the smug little parasite.
I huffed, then returned to my food, letting myself just enjoy the warmth of a sorta home-cooked meal with my closest… friend? Family? Parker was definitely family, even if not in the traditional sense. I reached down to stroke her head and beak, earning some contented coos.
When I'd washed my dishes, put everything away, and crawled back into my tent, I noticed something moving around inside my sleeping bag. Carefully, I covered my hands and arms in carbon scales and reached for the bag, grasping gently onto the edge. I took a deep breath, ready to slap some snake or rodent that had gotten into my tent, and whipped the bag open.
Four bouncy, semi-spherical green critters turned and stared up at me, their little antennae still bouncing even as they went still. I collapsed back onto my butt with a relieved sigh. "Oh, good, just the Junimos… What were you doing in my sleeping bag?"
The creatures spun around, letting out little chirps that I somehow understood despite clearly not being words.
"Clean!"
"Clean!"
"Fresh!"
"Fresh!"
With that, the little forest spirits bounced out of my sleeping bag, out of my tent, and into the trees. I stared after them for a bit, puzzled, then checked inside my sleeping bag. The inner surface felt softer than I remembered, with a little more fluff on the bottom than my nights spent compressing it would have suggested. Hesitantly, I eased back on the scent suppression I'd definitely started doing at some point around the tent and took a quick breath. I paused, then breathed deeply.
A wonderful, almost pine-like scent filled my senses, instantly putting me at ease. It smelled like a forest in the summer, only without all the buzzing insects and burning sun. It smelled like a spring rainstorm, but without the cold water soaking everything and turning the ground to mud. It smelled like a warm fire, only without the smoke that always changes direction to blow directly into my eyes no matter where I sit.
It smelled… not like home, but like something close to it.
I heard a soft chirp just outside the tent. Turning, I saw the blurred form of a little Junimo staring at me, waiting.
I sniffed, refusing to cry again today, and gave the spirit a smile. "Thank you."
The Junimo chirped, bowed a little, and bounced away.