Chapter 6: Warehouse Prep and Summon Practice
Evergreen's morning was a gray, oppressive shroud, the air thick with the promise of more rain, the kind that seeped into your bones and made everything feel heavier. Jax stood outside a rundown tactical shop on the edge of town, the looted cash from the bar brawl a bulky wad in his pocket, crinkling against his damp jeans. His leather jacket, still faintly stained with coffee and blood, hung loosely on his frame, and he twirled his new, sharper knife, its blade gleaming with a wicked edge that made his inner anti-hero geek grin. The shop's sign was faded, its windows smudged with grime, but inside, it was a treasure trove of gear—knives, tactical vests, and gadgets that sang of chaos and opportunity. He adjusted his collar, muttering,
"Villain tax on knives? This place is a rip-off."
The shopkeeper, a grizzled man with a scar slicing across one eyebrow, grunted as Jax haggled over a tactical vest and the knife, his voice gruff but resigned.
"Take it or leave it, kid," he said, tossing the vest onto the counter with a thud.
Jax paid, the cash feeling like a small victory, and griped,
"Gotham gloom matches my wallet now."
As he browsed a rack of holsters, he overheard two thugs in the corner, their voices low but urgent, muttering about a "Butterfly stash" and a "warehouse hit." Their words were a spark in his mind, the system chiming in with cold precision.
[SYSTEM: QUEST ALERT.]
[GATHER INTEL FROM SHOP CONVERSATION.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 2.]
[OBJECTIVE: IDENTIFY WAREHOUSE TARGET.]
Before he could eavesdrop further, the shop's door burst open with a jangle of bells, and the thugs drew knives, their blades glinting as they shouted at the shopkeeper to hand over the cash. Jax's pulse spiked, his hand tightening around his new knife, the system blaring in his mind.
[SYSTEM: LOW DANGER DETECTED.]
[SUMMONS AUTHORIZED: 1-2 ALLOWED.]
[SELECT SUMMON TO NEUTRALIZE THREAT.]
"Slippery justice it is," Jax said, a grin spreading across his face as he triggered a summon.
[SYSTEM: SUMMONING: THE DEEP.]
[COMMAND: FLOOD DISTRACT.]
[DURATION: 3 MINUTES.]
A flash of green light filled the shop, and The Deep materialized, his green suit dripping as if he'd just crawled out of the ocean, his gills flaring with annoyance. He smirked, cracking his knuckles with a wet pop.
"Time to save the seas—oh, wait, this is a robbery? Lame," he said, his voice a whiny mix of bravado and indignation.
He raised his hands, and water surged from a nearby sink, the pipes groaning as a shallow wave flooded the shop floor, sending the thugs slipping and cursing. Jax lunged, his new agility letting him dodge a wild knife swing with a fluid sidestep, and he tackled one thug, pinning him with a knee to the chest, the concrete cold against his hands. The Deep laughed, splashing the other thug in the face with a concentrated burst of water.
"Feel the ocean's wrath, loser!" he shouted, his grin wide and obnoxious.
The fight ended fast, the thugs subdued, their knives clattering to the wet floor. The shopkeeper, soaked but grateful, muttered a grudging thanks as he mopped up the mess. The Deep vanished in a shimmer, leaving Jax with a faint aquatic echo in his limbs, his movements feeling even smoother, like he could glide through water.
[SYSTEM: SUMMON COMPLETE.]
[RESIDUAL ECHO: +1 AGILITY.]
[CURRENT STATS: STRENGTH 1, AGILITY 4, CONSTITUTION 2, WILLPOWER 1.]
[ACHIEVEMENT: PETTY CRIME FOILED. +5 SYNERGY POINTS.]
Jax grabbed a map from the shop's counter, noticing strange markings—rift points, maybe?—scrawled in red ink, their cryptic lines sending a chill down his spine. He pocketed it, the paper crinkling as he tucked it away, his mind racing with possibilities. Later, at an abandoned warehouse the team used for training, he practiced summon commands on battered dummies, barking orders like,
"Hit hard, don't whine!"
The system's echoes pulsed in his body, each movement sharper, stronger, as he slashed at the dummies with his knife, the blade slicing through burlap with satisfying rips. He paused, wiping sweat from his brow with a sleeve, the air heavy with the scent of dust and mildew. Needing a break, he climbed into the team's van, its upholstery damp and musty, and took a nap, muttering,
"Blood's one thing, but wet seats? Torture."
[SYSTEM: PRACTICE SESSION COMPLETE.]
[CUMULATE SUMMONS: 1.]
[PREPARE FOR WAREHOUSE RAID.]
As he drifted off, the map's markings haunted him, their red lines hinting at something bigger than Butterfly remnants—rifts, anomalies, a puzzle he wasn't ready to solve. The system pinged softly, its tone ominous.
[SYSTEM: RANDOM FLAVOR: RIFT ANOMALIES DETECTED.]
[WARNING: STRESS SURGE DETECTED.]
Jax woke with a start, his heart pounding, the knife still in his hand. The raid was coming, and the thrill of chaos pulled him deeper into this world, his body humming with the system's echoes and the promise of more fights to come. He stepped out of the van, the rain starting again, and prepared for the storm ahead, ready to paint Evergreen red.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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