Episode 6 – Locs of Power
The city pulsed with tension. Roosevelt Memorial was louder than usual—hallways buzzing, whispers echoing, glances sharp as scalpels.
Michael Carter walked those halls calm as ever. Hoodie under his scrubs, earbuds dangling, blunt tucked behind his ear. To the world, he looked like just another intern. But to those who'd seen what he could do, he was something else entirely.
[Level 6 – Prestige 0]
[XP: 2,700 / 5,000]
[Skills: Cellular Restoration | Surgical Precision | Nerve Reconstruction | Dimensional Awareness | Cross-Species Adaptation | Rapid Multi-Target Healing]
⸻
Lang's Revenge
Lang struck first.
That morning, the board was gathered in a conference room. Photos were displayed—grainy shots of Michael and Jessica tangled in sheets, lips locked, scrubs halfway off. Lang stood smugly at the front.
"This intern is a disgrace," Lang spat. "He fucks nurses on-call, falsifies records, and parades himself as some miracle worker. He's a danger to this hospital."
Jessica sat pale in the corner, eyes downcast. Whispers hissed like venom around the room.
Then the chief of surgery looked at Michael. "What do you have to say for yourself, Carter?"
Michael leaned back, calm, unbothered. "I save lives."
Laughter. Scoffs. Lang sneered. "Not this time. You're finished."
But before the board could respond, a pager shrieked. Code Blue.
Michael stood. "Excuse me. Some of us actually save patients."
⸻
Case #7 – The Collapse
The ER was chaos. A teenage girl collapsed on the street, carried in by her screaming mother. Seizures, heart failing, blood poisoned. Every attending froze—her condition was untouchable, incurable.
Michael shoved through. His glow lit up the room as he pressed his hands to her chest. Veins hummed, power surged, poison purged from her bloodstream. Her breathing steadied, heart revived.
She gasped awake, clutching her mother.
[XP +2,400]
[XP: 5,100 / 5,000]
[Level Up! You are now Level 7 Healer.]
[New Skill Unlocked: Silver Tongue (Persuasion Mastery).]
His body shifted subtly. His hair grew longer, thick medium-sized locs framing his face. His reflection in the glass showed sharper cheekbones, deeper eyes, a magnetism impossible to ignore.
The nurses stared, captivated. The board members who followed froze in awe. Even Lang's sneer faltered.
Michael smiled, calm and deadly.
"Now… let's talk."
⸻
Silver Tongue
The board dragged him back into the conference room. Lang threw accusations like knives. But Michael leaned forward, voice steady, smooth, powerful.
"You can waste your time chasing rumors, or you can admit the truth. Without me, this hospital falls apart. Your numbers stay the worst in the city. Patients keep dying. But with me? You've got the highest miracle rate on record."
Every word was precise. Weighted. Silver Tongue pulsed in his chest, wrapping his voice in irresistible logic.
One by one, board members nodded.
The chief leaned back. "Carter stays. Case closed."
Lang's face turned purple. "You can't be serious!"
Michael smirked. "Guess I talked my way out of it."
⸻
Heat After the Storm
That night, Jessica found him on the hospital roof. Her hands trembled as she reached for him.
"I thought you were finished. But you… you turned it around like nothing."
Michael's locs brushed her cheek as he kissed her. Smooth. Slow. Deep. Clothes peeled away under the night air.
"Fuck—Michael," she gasped, body arching under his steady rhythm.
When it was over, she lay breathless against his chest, whispering, "You could talk anyone into anything."
Michael lit a blunt, grinning. "That's the plan."
⸻
The Rift Bleeds
But peace never lasted.
Later, on his walk home, his Dimensional Awareness flared. The rift above his apartment pulsed violently, bleeding energy into the street. Sparks of green lightning cracked the air.
A figure stumbled out—a soldier from the red desert world, bleeding, shouting in his alien tongue. Behind him, shadows moved—creatures clawing their way through the tear.
Michael's glow surged. He pressed his hands to the soldier, healing the shredded lung instantly.
[XP +800]
[XP: 800 / 5,000]
The soldier dropped to his knees, whispering "Savior."
The creatures roared, lunging. Michael's locs whipped in the wind as he stood tall, smirking.
He didn't even lift a hand. Instead, he spoke—his Silver Tongue vibrating with unearthly weight.
"Go back. Leave this world."
The creatures froze, snarling… then retreated into the rift, vanishing. The tear sealed shut with a hiss.
Michael exhaled smoke into the night, calm as ever.
Two Worlds, One Scalpel
Back in his apartment, he stripped off his bloodied scrubs and collapsed into his busted chair. His phone buzzed nonstop—texts from Jessica, the senator's wife, even new numbers of nurses and patients he barely remembered.
They all wanted him. Needed him.
But beyond them, the multiverse pulsed, waiting.
[Level 7 – Prestige 0]
[XP: 800 / 5,000]
[Skill Unlocked: Silver Tongue (Persuasion Mastery).]
Michael grinned at his reflection, locs falling over his sharp face. Stronger. Smoother. More untouchable than ever.
"Hospital politics, alien wars, limitless worlds. Doesn't matter. I'll heal them all. Talk my way out of anything. And fuck anyone I want while I'm at it."
He lit another blunt, smoke curling into the night.
"I am the cure."