[Feat Achieved! Came On A Monday]
[+1 Gold Gacha Ticket]
Ugh… this might've been the first time I was actually reluctant to accept a ticket. It had been necessary, sure, but goddamn if I wasn't still a little grossed out by the whole thing.
Well… it wasn't all bad.
Finding out exactly how potent Ejaculatte was had been useful. The description had said intensely and uncontrollably, but apparently those words had been doing a lot of heavy lifting without properly explaining what they meant.
I glanced to my left, where a massive reinforced table held the bound form of Solomon Grundy.
It had been almost an hour since I moved him back to my apartment.
He was still going.
Did zombies have some kind of magical coom ability that let them have ridiculously long orgasms, or was this just because Solomon Grundy probably hadn't gotten any in several decades?
…You know what? I didn't want to know.
I quickly looked away and found myself feeling immensely grateful for my familiars. Gary and Stu were absolute saints for moving the big guy.
Poor Red Hood had practically fled the scene screaming something about needing a shower. His sacrifice would not be forgotten. I'd have to get him a gift later.
A soft hum came from my left as one of the doors slid open, Simmy floating through first. The raggedy form of John Constantine followed behind her, scratching at his already messy hair.
"Can't you let a man sleep?" John rubbed at his eyes. "Kid, this better be important, or I'll—"
He stopped, and his eyes slowly drifted toward the table.
"Bloody fucking hell." Even John looked taken aback. "Is that Solomon Grundy creaming his pants on your table?"
"Unfortunately…" I sighed. "Yes."
"Christ." John pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I've seen some strange shit in my day, but this is up there, mate. Hell, I'd probably put this in the top ten."
"Well… that's great, John, and I'd love to hear more about your horrifying life experiences, but this is kind of important." I motioned toward Grundy. "I need you to help me out."
"Aye, I swing a lot of ways, but this is a bit—"
"Magically!"
The mental image hit me anyway, and I nearly gagged.
Ugh. God.
"I need your help magically. There's some kind of magic seal on his chest. It made him go crazy earlier, so keep it in your pants, pervert."
"Lotta talk from the bloke who made said zombie cream his pants." John rolled his eyes as he moved closer to the table. "Fine. Let me take a look."
Simmy floated over, and an unseen force peeled away what remained of Grundy's shirt.
Various symbols and pentagrams covered his upper chest, spreading all the way around his neck in overlapping patterns. Even now, with Grundy thoroughly occupied by his happy ending, the markings occasionally pulsed with a faint red glow.
"Hmmm." John rubbed his chin as he slowly circled the table.
"Bit of demon binding. Necromancy. Hint of black magic…" He took another drag from his cigarette. "Whoever did this was a poor hand, but I can see what they were going for."
"Some kind of enslavement spell?"
From what I knew about Ra's al Ghul, I certainly wouldn't put it past him.
"Probably." John shrugged.
"Can you get it off him?"
"Doubt it." His expression tightened as he leaned closer to inspect one of the symbols. "There are some other bits and pieces in here I don't recognize. Something this complicated, you can't cock up the spellwork even a tiny bit or the whole thing blows up in your face."
He straightened.
"Better to just put the poor bastard down and be done with it."
I frowned.
"There's no one you can call for help?"
"I wouldn't say I'm the most powerful mage around, but when it comes to dark shit, there aren't many bastards I'd call my equal when it comes to this stuff." John snorted. "And the few that are around…" He gave me a look. "You probably don't want to call them anyway."
Maybe Professor Blood would be willing to help.
Then again, he'd practically stonewalled me just for being associated with John, so I doubted it.
Simmy suddenly let out a hum.
I blinked as a panel in the wall slid open. A microwave floated out under her power, the door clicking open before a glass jar drifted toward me.
Right!
I'd almost completely forgotten about Klarion.
I strode over to the jar and stared down at the little Fumo doll trapped inside.
"How knowledgeable are you about magic?"
"Great! Great—amazing!" Klarion's voice stuttered out from inside the jar. "No one alive has me beat! I've taught and stolen from the best in the business! Faust, Circe, Tala—you name it!"
"Alright." I tapped the glass. "Help John figure this out, and there'll be no more microwaves or jars if you do a good job."
Klarion immediately perked up.
I narrowed my eyes.
"No funny business. Otherwise, I'm bringing out the gamer socks."
"Yes! Yes!" Klarion yelled. "I promise!"
"Good." I smiled and turned toward John. "Here you go. Get to work."
John stared at the jar for several long seconds.
"…Right."
He sighed, shook his head, and started pulling various objects from his coat.
"Goddamn weird-ass…"
I could already hear him and Klarion arguing as I turned away.
Not my problem anymore.
[Rolling Gold Gacha Ticket]
[Chaos Response]
|Elite Trait|
Your existence is chaos as defined by the Chaos Gacha, automatically causing feedback to whatever tries to peek into your existence. Future sight becomes scrambled and incoherent, abilities that attempt to read into you will malfunction, and anyone trying to read your mind will suffer a severe headache at minimum.
Oh, nice! A good way to end the day.
—
Jason scowled as he rubbed a towel over his head.
What a terrible way to end the day.
Luckily, Jean's bullshit luck meant nothing truly bad had happened, but God, Jason hoped he never had to fight alongside the guy again anytime soon. The only saving grace was that the whole incident had happened with just the two of them around.
Jason sighed as he grabbed a drink from the fridge and slumped onto the couch.
Fuck working anymore today. He was just going to relax, watch a few movies, and try to forget the whole damn thing ever happened.
A sudden buzz from his communicator made him frown.
He pulled it out, and the advanced device projected a holographic image of Bruce.
"What's up?" Jason sighed. "I already sent the report on the whole situation, and I'm dead tired."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"That's actually why I'm calling. I think you forgot a few things."
The hologram suddenly shifted, displaying footage of Jason trapped underneath Grundy.
Jason felt his heart drop.
"How the hell did you get that!?"
"It's called karma, Jason," Bruce said. "Barbara was testing a new drone when we got your message."
"Oh, don't you dare show—"
The hologram shifted again, revealing some of the Batfamily gathered in the cave. Damian and Dick were openly laughing in the background, while Barbara shot him an apologetic look that was completely ruined by the amusement written across her face.
"You were saying, son?" Bruce smirked.
Jason let his head fall back with a groan.
…Fucking Jean Valjean.
***
Comments and Thoughts would be greatly appreciated. Likes are like a drug to me and boost my creative juices.
I have advanced chapters on Pa tre on/daisyberry if you wanna read ahead.