Chapter 5: First Team Downtime
The safehouse was a fortress of paranoia, its concrete walls scarred with cracks, its reinforced doors groaning under their own weight. The air inside was thick with the scent of burnt coffee, stale beer, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil, a mix that made Jax's nose wrinkle as he sprawled on a battered couch, his boots propped on a crate. His muscles ached from the warehouse fight, a dull throb that reminded him he was alive, and his leather jacket, still damp from the rain, hung over a chair, dripping onto the concrete floor. He twirled his pocketknife, the blade spinning in his fingers, a restless tic that grounded him in the surreal calm of the moment. The Peacemaker team was scattered around the room, decompressing after the chaos, and Jax felt a strange mix of belonging and displacement, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong box.
"From chaos to date night," he muttered, smirking at the thought of surviving long enough to flirt with someone like Catwoman, her sly grin flashing in his mind.
Emilia Harcourt leaned against a wall, sipping black coffee from a chipped mug, her chain-smoking filling the air with a haze that stung Jax's eyes. Her foot tapped an impatient rhythm, her tactical vest unbuckled but still clinging to her frame like armor.
"Get done with the theatrics," she said, glaring at Jax, her voice sharp as a blade. "You're on probation, not a victory tour."
Leota Adebayo sat cross-legged on the floor, scribbling in a worn journal, her glasses slipping down her nose as she bit her lip in concentration. Her dark curls framed a face that carried both warmth and caution, her clipboard resting beside her like a loyal pet.
"Think first," she said, her tone measured but firm. "You're part of this now, but there are rules. No more rogue stunts."
Peacemaker, polishing his chrome helmet with obsessive care, laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls like a gunshot.
"Rules? I cherish peace with all my heart, but rules are for suckers! Eagly's got my back, right, buddy?"
Eagly squawked, pecking at a pizza crust on the floor, its talons clicking against the concrete. Jax couldn't help but grin, the absurdity of an eagle sidekick cutting through the tension.
"Eagle tales already? Save it for the bar," he said, deflecting with a quip as he stretched, his back popping loudly.
[SYSTEM: DEBRIEF COMPLETE.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 1.]
[PROCEED TO BONDING EVENT.]
[OBJECTIVE: BUILD TEAM TRUST.]
The team relocated to the dive bar from Jax's brawl, its neon signs buzzing like dying insects, the air thick with the scent of spilled beer and cigarette smoke. They claimed a corner booth, the vinyl seats cracked and sticky, and crowded the table with beers and whiskey shots, the glasses clinking as they settled in. The jukebox wailed a country tune, its twang a grating backdrop to their conversation. Peacemaker launched into a profanity-laced tale of a past mission, his voice booming over the music.
"So there I was, knee-deep in goons, Eagly dropping grenades like a damn patriot! I'm yelling, 'For freedom!' and—bam!—whole place goes up!"
Harcourt rolled her eyes, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled toward the ceiling.
"Amateurs exaggerate," she said, her dry wit cutting through the noise.
Adebayo chuckled, her awkward irony shining through as she sipped a beer.
"Sounds… complicated," she said, adjusting her glasses with a small smile.
Jax leaned back, nursing a beer that tasted like watered-down regret, and spun a vague story to dodge the truth of his transmigration. His fingers traced the edge of his glass, the cold condensation grounding him as he spoke.
"So, yeah, I kinda… glitched into Evergreen," he said, his smirk masking the ache of his lost world. "One minute, I'm nowhere, next minute, I'm dodging Butterflies. Life's a bad sequel, right?"
Adebayo's eyes softened, catching the sadness behind his quip, her journal open on the table, its pages filled with neat handwriting.
"Must be tough, landing here like that," she said, her voice gentle but probing.
Jax shrugged, twirling his knife under the table, the blade's rhythm a quiet comfort.
"Sarcasm's my superpower, deal with it," he said, winking to deflect the vulnerability.
Peacemaker slapped the table, spilling his beer across the wood, the amber liquid pooling around Jax's glass.
"That's the spirit! Screw subtlety, charge!" he bellowed, his helmet gleaming under the neon.
The spill soaked Jax's sleeve, and he griped, wiping it with a napkin.
"Great, now I'm wearing your beer. Villain tax?"
[SYSTEM: BONDING SUCCESS.]
[+5 SYNERGY POINTS.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 2.]
[OBJECTIVE: PLAN WAREHOUSE RAID.]
Later, alone in the safehouse, Jax sat on the cold concrete floor, sketching the bar fight in a battered notebook, his pencil scratching out comic-style panels of Kimiko's brutality and A-Train's blur. The act was a ritual, a way to anchor himself in this chaotic world, but as he drew, a wave of homesickness crashed over him. Memories of Earth—takeout pizza, late-night Netflix binges, the creak of his old couch—flickered like a dying signal, sharp and painful. He stared at the stars through a cracked window, their cold light mocking his isolation, and muttered,
"Blood's red paint, but stars just mock you."
A shadowy figure lingered outside, their silhouette blending with the night, unnoticed by Jax. The system pinged softly, its tone cryptic.
[SYSTEM: RANDOM FLAVOR: MEMORY FRAGMENTS DETECTED.]
[WARNING: EXTERNAL OBSERVATION DETECTED.]
Jax closed the notebook, his fingers lingering on the worn cover, his resolve hardening like steel. The team's banter had sparked a flicker of connection, a sense of purpose, but the warehouse raid loomed like a storm on the horizon. He tucked the knife into his pocket, its weight a reminder of the chaos he was starting to crave, and prepared for the next fight, the shadowy figure's presence lingering in his subconscious.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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