The severed head bouncing into the gutter was the signal. The Stunt Crew bikers dismounted, pistols and shotguns drawn. I knew Sullivan from the nickel plated revolver, he lead the way. Baby Girl sheathed her sword, slipping down, taking the AK from the headless Russian as she laid him in a sitting position beside the door.

They nodded to each other, Sullivan and Baby Girl. Then Sullivan stepped away from the door.

Billy Lonegran came up, a hard kick driving in the door, shotgun lowered, ready to make a mess of whoever was behind it. The blast of the shotgun split open the dark, the flare of the gun lighting up white leather.

I watched in grim silence, listening to the burst of gun shots from within. It wasn't my instinct to do nothing when bullets were flying, I had to tell myself no one here was innocent, everyone was a crook with crimes enough to turn a hardened stomach. I told myself that, but I didn't like it, or entirely believe it. Whatever their crimes they were people, with loves and lives and people who cared about them. To kill someone and end everything they were, and everything they could be. Maybe someone better could live with that, pass the judgement on who should live and who should die, but I don't know if I could.

But as the glass of the top floor window blew out, I had to remember I was on a mission. I had to get to Navaja, find out who she was, to take down the Midwest Cartel for good.

I had to, but it wasn't easy.

A Russian ran out into the street, wearing only tight white underwear and a gold chain, panting mist with a gold plated pistol, blood streaking his chest. Someone, Billy Lonegran maybe stepped out with him in his sights. The Russian threw his gun in the gutter, trying to leg it for his life. Billy sized him up cold, a hunter eyeing up a prize buck.

>I can't do nothing, stop Billy from killing him
>Keep out of it, remember the mission

Previously on With Great Power Quest: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=With%20Great%20Power%20Quest

>>4665324
>Keep out of it, remember the mission
Last thing we need is a witness
Welcome back Bullpen!

>>4665324
>Keep out of it, remember the mission
We're kidding ourselves if we're pretending that we're not complicit in all of the deaths that have already happened. We're working with people who are the same or worse than those that have died already. The sooner we accept that the better.

>>4665324
>>Keep out of it, remember the mission

>>4665348
>>4665358
>>4665462
locked in

I looked away as the shotgun blew open his chest, the Russian flopping to the ground, twitching out his last on a cold November morning.

It was strange how this stuff didn't bother me anymore, not on the physical level at least. I guess you could get used to violence when you saw enough of it, and inflicted enough of it too. Still, I did feel a pang of guilt. I could have done something and chose not too. I had to make it worth it.

The bikers came running out, each carrying a duffel bag. They mounted up, tyres screeching as they peeled away. In the distance I heard the high whine of police sirens, too late to do any good.

The sun was starting to mount the horizon, twilight giving way to a gray dawn as the bikers raced through the half dead streets toward the west side.

I followed at a distance, bounding from roof top to roof top, moving from the run down homes to industrial blocks, warehouses and train yards.

I dropped in across the street from a warehouse the Stunt Crew MC pulled up in front of, crouching on the roof of an abandoned cafe, the windows masked with grime, half the letters of the sign missing. The street was empty with abandoned and half abandoned buildings. It had been a long time since anything had been made here.

I hunkered down behind a tall red L, hiding myself as best as I could.

Sullivan pulled off his helmet, ruffling his peroxide blond hair. Baby Girl did the same, then slid her katana into her belt.

Sullivan looked around, searching the horizon. Maybe he was looking for me.

Billy pulled out a cigarette, sparked it up, the smoke mingling with the cold mist. The world grew in color as we waited for the dawn, and with it the cartel representatives.

They came down slowly in a couple of cars, grinding the street grit under their tyres, taking their time. When they pulled to a stop in front of the bikers, Billy crushed his smoke under his boot heel.

Cartel gun-thugs stepped out in silk shirts and dress coats, dressed for a corporate scene even if they tattoos over their faces and necks, a street language boasting of their deeds and allegiances. Out of the first car climbed Carlos, the man with the glasses I'd seen manage the cartels relationship with the Stunt Crew.

"You have the money?" Carlos asked with his fake friendly smile, eyeing up the duffel bags.

"We have what we could take," Sullivan replied, "As to the amount I can't say, its hard to keep an accurate count with gunplay going off in my ear."

Carlos clapped his hands. "It's the message that's more important," he said, "It will teach Gradov to stay out of our business."

"Or maybe it'll have Gradov come for your head, him with all the rest of his Eastern Bloc comrades."

Carlos grinned at the suggestion, bright white teeth shining in the cold morning light.

"Eastern European ties run deep in Chicago," Sullivan said, "Don't think they'll give up ground they've carved for themselves since their grandfolks fled the Soviets."

Carlos' gun-thugs took the bags, passing them one to the other than into the back of a car.

"You did well today," Carlos said, "Navaja is pleased."

"Navaja is absent," Sullivan said, "We were promised an audience, but I don't see more than the same two bit pimp I've been seeing since our acquaintance started."

Carlos' smile faded. "Navaja doesn't meet with just anyone," he said, "Not least some wannabe Jesse James outlaw gringo up the wrong side of Dixie."

"Well then its good I'm not just anyone," Sullivan said, "But I done a mess of killin' today and its got my blood up. Now you get on the phone to your employer and tell her that with all due respect I'm done being led around by the nose, and would ask her indulgence for an audience."

"Or?" Carlos asked.

"Or we find out how quick your boys are with their iron."

"You talk a lot Mr Sullivan, you're a big talker," Carlos replied.

"I'm done talking," he said, eyes as hard and empty as the barrel of a gun.

Whatever Carlos saw in those eyes, it had him break from the glare first, grinning to himself in the unhappy way of someone who knows they're up against their better.

A slow clap started, a single pair of hands.

"Very good," a woman's voice came from behind them, stepping out of the abandoned warehouse, "I do enjoy such bravado."

She was shorter than I expected. Younger too, though maybe more 'youthful' was the better word. Girlish even, not at all what I'd imagine a hardened gangster would look like, least of all a woman fearsome enough to rule her own criminal organization. Wide cheeks and a strong chin framed a small, smiling mouth, with large eyes to contrast it. She wore a small black dress with a diamong studded collar. She didn't look like a gangster, she looked like a gangster's mistress, and about as intimidating as one.

But Carlos swallowed, backing away.

This was Navaja.

I took a snap with my phone.

"You wanted to meet me, Mr Sullivan?" she said. Her accent was Illinois American, "Well here I am."

Sullivan looked uncertain. I didn't blame him. Baby Girl drew close to his side.

"You had us jumping through all kinds of hoops, ma'am," he said.

"I like to test my partners," she said, "If I'm to go into business with someone, I need to know their quality. You had a reputation, but reputations can be exaggerated."

"And where does my reputation stand now?" he asked.

"Higher," she said, "Enough to satisfy me, for now. Take a message to the Old Man, tell him the debt is cleared and our deal stands. My familia and yours will work together from now on. Your people will run security for what we ship out, and in return they will be richly compensated."

"But before we make too nice, we have one last issue to settle," she said. A long nailed finger pointed to Billy. "This one, he tells an interesting story. Of deals cut with costumed vigilantes hoping to bring me down."

Sullivan tensed, Baby Girl's breathing grew heavier. "What have you been saying Billy?" Sullivan asked.

Billy had the grace to look ashamed, but then it turned to anger. "You keep talkin' to me like I'm an idiot, Sully," he said, "Well I ain't so stupid as to try to double cross the cartel. They'd have found out anyway."

"What have you told the Hotspur, Mr Sullivan?" Navaja asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"You're lying," she said, "Anything you've told him will drip back into the DSA's ear. You made a mistake, Sullivan, a bigger one for thinking I wouldn't find out."

"By God if you've killed us Billy, you'll be riding to hell right behind me," Sullivan growled through clenched teeth.

More men stepped out of the shadows of the warehouse, Cartel men, and they weren't packing pistols.

"Our deal stands with the Old Man," Navaja says, "However, not with you."

My heart beat picked up. Sullivan and Baby Girl were surrounded.

>I can't leave them to be murdered, not when it was my fault
>I had the photo I needed, anything now was on them

>>4665560
>I can't leave them to be murdered, not when it was my fault

>>4665560
>I can't leave them to be murdered, not when it was my fault
I like them. Plus, they will be useful later

>>4665560
>I can't leave them to be murdered, not when it was my fault

>>4665611
>>4665571
>>4665570
locked in

I wasn't going to watch them be gunned down. The Russian mobsters had made their own bed, but Sullivan and baby Girl were in peril because of my actions.

I stepped out from behind the capital L, gave a sharp whistle.

"Yo!" I called, cracking my knuckles, "Nice to meet you Navaja, but I'm going to have to stop you right there."

A tick of irritation twitched her cheek.

I stretched out my arms as I stoked my inner fire.

"Shoot that mother fucker!" Carlos snapped, pushing one of his underlings.

I grinned, and leaning forward, lunged from the roof.

>roll 3 x 1d100 dc 70 +30

Rolled 18 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>4665692
let's fuckin go

Rolled 71 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>4665692
This will end poorly

Rolled 93 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>4665692

>>4665708
nice, clean success

>>4665708
Damn son

Rolled 91 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>4665692

Gunfire burst, scouring where I'd stood.

I hit the hood of the car hard, crashing down fast and mean a comet, the bonnet crushing inward, smashing apart the engine within. I lunged out, driving my fist into the gun-thug's face, shattering his sun glasses against his face.

Sullivan and Baby Girl didn't wait on the opportunity. His gun flashed out of its holster, her sword spring from its scabbard. She slashed as he fired, a deadly duet. A hand flung away clutching the stock of a submachine gun, a ribbon of blood trailing after it.

A chorus of gunfire broke out, Cartel thugs pulling Navaja back into the warehouse.

I spun from the first goon to the next, dropping under the muzzle of his gun, coming up to crack his chin, sending him to the gutter. I turned to catch the hand of the next, crushing it in my fist, small bones popping leaving something mashed up and useless behind.

"Best you two get out of here!" I said, hefting up Billy's bike. I threw it over their heads to crash into the cartel enforcers, the bike crumpling with the force of my toss.

They didn't need telling twice, and Sullivan leapt up into the saddle of his bike, Baby Girl up behind him.

I shouldn't hang around either. I drove my clenched fists down on the hood of the remaining car, busting the engine inside it.

"You be careful on the street now Billy," I said, backing away, "I don't think Sully's going to forgive this one."

Billy's attention was more on his pulverised bike than me, but then Billy was a dim one.

Navaja's glare found me from the shadows. Poisonous hate so strong it could have killed me, but I just smiled. I knew her face now, the rest was just a matter of time.

I wasn't far behind the outlaw couple as they sped off, Baby Girl firing off shots behind her as they raced for their lives down the west side street.

Who knew where they could go for safety? All I knew is they better not stop running.

By the time they slowed mid-morning traffic had come to life. They zipped around packed congestion, ignoring the heckles of car drivers as they wove their way around, helmetless and not caring. I shadowed them to a garage where they at last came to a stop.

"Fuck!" Sullivan yelled, kicking over a garbage can. Couldn't say I blamed him. He glared at me when I dropped in, but Baby Girl was more grateful.

"You came in clutch," she said, "Pulled us out of the fire."

"Goddamn it, we're fucked Baby Girl," he said, "And what have we got for it. Did you even find our friends?"

"I'm working on it," I said, "You know if I wanted to I could have just sat back and watched them smoke you. Then I wouldn't have to look for your friends."

"Yeah," he said. Baby Girl's hand to his chest calmed him. "Yeah, I know that. I owe you, Hotspur. We both do. But we're as good as dead now anyway. Navaja, she don't forgive or forget."

"You won't have to worry about her once we take her down," I said.

"You believe that you believe in the goddamn tooth fairy," he replied. He slumped onto his bike, head in his hands.

"We weren't meant for long lives, my love," Baby Girl said, her fingers through her hair, "We're outlaws."

He sighed, closed his eyes, "And outlaws we be."

It was touching for a pair of murderous criminals.

>they were in a tight jam, maybe I could help them
>leave them to figure things out

>>4665748
>leave them to figure things out

>>4665748
>they were in a tight jam, maybe I could help them
Why save them just to let them die right after?

Where the hell is everybody

>>4665839
I'll give it another ten minutes then flip a coin

Rolled 2 (1d2)

okay

1 you help them out
2 you leave them to figure it out

"You want my advice, get out of town and hole up somewhere," I said, "But for now I've got to bounce."

"We'll figure something out," Sullivan said, "And I meant it, we owe you for pulling us out of there. Call it a one time favor."

"All right," I said, "Try not to end up in any obituaries."

It was dumb to think compared to the danger they were in, but I had to go because I had to get to school. It was the last day before Thanksgiving break, and that might only be a week but a week without Kay felt like a life time. And after dodging bullets I felt a throbbing heat for Kay, her touch, her presence. To be a little melodramatic about it, when you live in the shadow of death I guess it made things all that more urgent.

By the time I got into school I'd missed first period. I found Kay by her locker, chatting to Ayesha. I barely gave her time to say high before scooping her up by the backside and hauling her into a kiss.

Nearly dying and finally snapping a picture of Navaja left me feeling light and reckless, and Kay didn't mind at all as she melted in my arms.

"Wow, where did that come from?" she said with a blush.

"Just thinking about you, baby girl," I said.

"Miller!" the bark of Mr Sack's voice turned my head, "No tongue hockey on school grounds, Miller. Have some decency."

I managed not to flip him the bird, but Kay hugged me closer, a hot smile over my shoulder at Mr Sack.

"He's just jealous because he's almost 40 still a virgin," she purred in my ear.

"Seriously?" I said.

She shrugged, "Maybe." Another rumor, I wondered if she had started it.

"Not seriously," Ayesha said, trying not to look at the two of us, "Mr Sack has a wife and two kids."

"-and I'm telling you man, they live beneath the earth just waiting for the right moment to strike," Hunter said to Rufus as they came walking up.

"Yeah man, sounds like a cool movie," he said.

"It's not a movie," Hunter said, "It's from this old book by a guy called Richard Shaver. He knew the truth and tried to tell everyone. There's beings living beneath the earth, alien beings, and the Explosion was their signal to rise up and prepare the earth for invasion. Dougie Hicks talked about it on the last episode of the Mars Expression."

Rufus shruged. "I don't know man, sounds like a load of whatever to me," he said, "I'm surprised you're still on that after getting your cast off."

"Don't cry to me if you get taken over by a brain worm," Hunter said, "Hell, you won't even be able to cry."

"The only brain worms I'm worried about is the ones you got," he said, "Sup Eric, you hearing this caucasian nonsenses? Aliens and what not."

A month ago I'd have laughed too, before meeting with Dr Zamani. Maybe there was more to the alien conspiracy theory than I wanted to believe.

"Hey Ayesha, how you doin'?" Rufus said.

"Just sending a text to Malcolm," she said, on her phone.

"Her boyfriend," Kay teased. Ayesha cheeks squeezed in a blush. Me, I felt an odd throb of anger. The college boy. I kept my arm around Kay and my attention off Ayesha. She didn't need me acting all protective brother over her, even if the thought of a college guy running with a high school chick creeped me out.

"Malcolm, he was the old quarterback, right?" Rufus said, "Our team went downhill when he left. Now we got some white guy with a noodle arm. I think we only got two brothers on the team now too. What's up with that?"

"Ask Mr Sack," I said, "He's the football coach."

"Well I've got to cheer them on no matter what," Kay said, patting my arm. She kissed my cheek. "I've got practice, but I'll catch you later?"

"Yeah, sure will," I said, watching her skip away.

We met up with Zeke on the way to Chemistry. "You guys see the news?" he said, "They say the Shark ate a kid."

"The Shark, you mean...?"

"The goddamn para-freak," he said, "Scooped some kid up off a boat, chomped him in half. It was on the news."

"Goddamn, someone's got to do something," Rufus said.

"Semper Fi will sort it out," Zeke said, "She's sworn to bring the creature to justice."

"Poor kid," Hunter muttered as we went in.

My skin prickled at the news. Not just because it was shocking, but it didn't sound right to me. I didn't know Shark well, but from our brief run in he didn't seem the type to kill someone for no reason, least of all a child. I couldn't help but feel this was some kind of stitch up, and I only wished I'd be in Chicago long enough to sort it out before Dad had us off to Indiana. Unfortunately I just didn't have the time.

It was while listening to Mr Nfume drone on I remembered to forward the photo I'd taken of Navaja to Ms Grant. I got back a thumb's up. The ball was in her court for now, I'd have to wait to see what she served up.

Tomorrow was the funeral, and it'd be early, after that I'd be heading out of state for a while. I had to consider what to do with my last afternoon in the city.

>spend it with Kay, get some time in before I left
>give the neighborhood a last patrol, make sure everything is safe before we go
>maybe check out Ayesha's boyfriend, I'd promised her dad I'd look out for her

>>4665922
>maybe check out Ayesha's boyfriend, I'd promised her dad I'd look out for her
also check in with Ivy, we haven't heard from her in a while

>>4665937
Support
Fuck, sorry Bullpen. I wanted to vote to help Sully and Baby Girl, but fell asleep. It's late where I am

>>4665961
its all good

A lot can happen in a week, love you Kay but this seems urgent.

>maybe check out Ayesha's boyfriend, I'd promised her dad I'd look out for her

I meant to fucking post this with the first one, why can’t we edit posts 4chan.

locking that in

I didn't like this Malcolm cat, no two ways about it, and I suspected something fishy. I was not the sort to use words like 'untoward' but it all felt a little untoward, a guy starting college sniffing around a girl who wasn't even sixteen.

So I decided I'd keep my promise I'd made with Mr Carver, and keep my eye on things. Snooping, essentially. Maybe not the best use of a superhero's time, but if I couldn't look out for my friends, how could I look out for the city?

If I could save her from an invisible pervert and a lunatic with a shotgun, I could save her from a bad boyfriend. Right? It's not weird or boundary stepping over...whatever.

After school I made my way over to her house. Not right away, I went home and changed first. I rolled up around sundown, just after five. Start with her, talk things out. I had an open invitation to come over whenever, parental approval. Saving them from the Creep did that.

I knocked on her front door, hands in my pockets. Waiting, waiting. I thought about what I'd say, I couldn't be too direct. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I turned to leave when I heard a shuffle inside.

"Hey, someone get the door?" I heard Ayesha call. Then a stomp, the sound of a latch, and the door swung open. She had a tooth brush in her mouth, wearing a flannel shirt just long enough to be a dress. "Oh hi Eric, what's up?"

Oh.

I saw Ayesha just about everyday. I was used to her, even if I knew, objectively, she was pretty. Very pretty. And maybe there was something about the light on her cheeks or the way the toothbrush hung from the corner of her mouth, but I missed a breath. I coughed it out.

"I'm here," I said.

"You're here," she said with a smile, "To...?"

"See y...Ivy," I said, "Just wanted to check up on Ivy, you know, the funeral is tomorrow."

Probably wouldn't be a great idea to tell her I was here to make sure her boyfriend wasn't a scumbag, which I doubted.

"Oh cool, yeah, she's just upstairs," she said, "Sorry I'm getting ready for a date with Malcolm. He's taking me to dinner."

"Cool," I said, ignoring the weird angry feeling inside me. It'd be cooler with it if she was going to dinner with Rufus or Zeke or something. Someone her own age.

I waved hello to Mr Carver before heading upstairs. Mrs Carver was out, apparently.

I guess Ivy could help out. She lived here, at least for now, and she'd be in the pocket of Ayesha's life. Plus I trusted her judgement, if she thought I was being paranoid she'd tell me. Music came out from under the door. Bowie I think. I knocked on the door but didn't really stop before heading in.

"Don't believe in Modern Love," Ivy sang along, twisting to the music, turning around eyes half shut, dancing, her dress half unbuttoned down her chest.

For the second time I forgot to breathe.

"Modern Love, walks beside me. Modern Love, walks on by. Modern Love, gets me to the church on time," her eyes opened with a smile for me. Without so much as saying hi she grabbed my hands and pulled me closer.

"You can dance right?" she said, the saxophone starting from the speaker, "Ayesha says you know how."

"I can cha-cha when I need to," I said.

"So dance with me," she said, pulling my hands to her waist. I'm not a virgin but I blushed. I tried not to squeeze but my grip grew firm. She put her hands behind my neck, head rolling back and forth timed with the sway of her hips, vibing to the music, pulling me in her wake.

This wasn't why I was here but I found it hard to stop.

The track changed from something less pop and more soulful and slow. China Girl. A kind of song for close dancing, slow dancing.

"I hear her heart beating loud as thunder," David Bowie sang, "I saw the stars crashing down."

We locked eyes, we were a level height. Not like Kay where I stood taller than her. Or the kind of look Kay would give. It wasn't bright or perky or flashing with mischief, but long and smouldering, holding back a flood of emotion that threatened to break free and drown anyone in its path. We were held close together almost nose to nose. She broke away first, leaving me in a confused guilty knot as she turned to lower the volume on her ipod.

"Sorry," she offered, "Just got caught up helping Ayesha get ready."

"Yeah," I said, burning bright pink.

Ivy is a friend, and I'm in love with Kay.

"Didn't think I'd find you dancing though," I said. I hadn't been in Ayesha's room since Halloween. I took a seat by her bookcase nook. "You know, considering."

"I can't cry all the time," Ivy said, almost flippantly, "You know my parents are back in town. They want me to come home with them, after the funeral."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know," she said, buttoning up her dress, "The Carvers have been nice, but I think they're worried I'm a bad influence on Ayesha."

"Are you?" I said, "I mean, she's got an older boyfriend all of a sudden."

Ivy raised a finger. "Now don't blame that on me, they met at one of Mrs Carver's poetry slams," she said, "Though maybe I did make a slight, casual introduction."

"Malcolm, right?" I said, "He was with you guys last year. Is he a good guy or what?"

"There are worse, but I don't know him all that well," she said, "Why, are you jealous?"

I blushed again. "I've got a girlfriend," I said.

"So did the guy I made out with at Kemal's last party," Ivy replied, "If it makes you feel any better, she likes you too."

Excuse me?

"She likes Hotspur, not me," I said with an awkward grin, "That's not the same thing."

"Sure," Ivy said, "But that's not what I meant."

What did she mean? Did it matter what she meant? I have a girlfriend I'm in love with anyway. Our conversation cut off when Ayesha came back in, sans toothbrush. "Out you get little buddy," Ivy said, "Ayesha's got to get dressed."

"If you don't mind," Ayesha said with a smile. I nodded right as the door closed in my face.

What did Ivy mean 'likes me'? I stood staring at the wall, ears burning.

The door opened. Ayesha stepped out in a tight white dress and a thin black jacket. She smiled.

"What do you think?" she said with a twirl. I thought it was tight, particularly in the back.

"Cute," I said. Did I mean her or the dress? Ivy had me all confused.

"Thanks," Ayesha said with a warm smile, touching up her curls.

The last piece on was a gold heart necklace, nestled nice and snug right above her...

"Malcolm should be here in about five," she said, checking her phone.

"Where are you guys off to?" I asked.

"He's taking me to Everest, its a tres chic restaurant down at the stock exchange," she said, "Very trendy, very expensive."

Weird for a college boy to have that kind of cash.

A car horn sounded from outside.

"Oh! That'll be him," to my surprise Ayesha kissed my cheek, "Don't wait up." She winked on her way down.

I watched her skip to the door, saw her dad frown from the frunchroom. He didn't like it much either. Then I looked to Ivy.

"Do you trust this guy?" I said.

She ran a finger along her collar bone. "Oh not at all," she said.

"Do you trust Ayesha?" I added.

She thought about that. "Nine times out of ten, yeah," she said.

And tonight was the one time out of ten she didn't.

"Do you want to follow them?" she asked.

Should I? This felt like line stepping, but the more I learned about him the less I liked him.

>...we probably shouldn't
>...let's follow them

I'll be back tomorrow

>>4666029
>...let's follow them
We promised. She was there for us, now we will be for her

>...let's follow them

Yeah this seems pretty Sus, and honestly I’d like to believe she’d do the same for us.

>>4666029
>...let's follow them

>>4666029
>let's follow them

>>4666029
>>...let's follow them
this wont help eric's attitude with girls, but I do think that it's suspicious

>>4666029
>>...let's follow them

>>4666029
>...let's follow them

Doing nothing would just let Ivy work more of her succubus wiles on us

feeling a little off today but I'm working on getting it together

>>4666055
>>4666074
>>4666135
>>4666147
>>4666164
>>4666638
locking those in

I stepped over the line.

"Let's follow them," I said.

Ivy gave me a thoughtful look, then sighed.

"Well okay," she said, "I guess we're going."

"Where are you going?"

We just about jumped at the sound of Mr Carver's voice behind us. I turned to see him standing in the doorway of his daughter's room, looking annoyed.

"We're just..." I started, lies fumbling on my tongue.

"We're going to follow Ayesha, make sure this guy is on the up and up," Ivy replied. Some times honesty was the best course of action. Mr Carver's face brightened, his bad mood retreating from a wide grin.

"Great idea," he said, "Let me get my coat, I'll drive you."

So our party became three, stalking our friend on her date.

The Chicago Stock Exchange was down the Loop, just on LaSalle street station. Of course we took a car, which I was glad for with the beginnings of winter settling in on the city, frost slick in the night. Ivy pulled on a lilac purple jacket, wrapped her face in a scarf. Mr Carver pulled his flat cap low. I don't know how either of those things disguised the make and model of Ayesha's family car, or the numberplate. I guess we just had to hope she was too caught up with this Malcolm fella to notice. It was warm in the car but I still felt a faint chill as we weaved through the streets.

A Friday night had people out, no matter how cold, lining up to get into nightclubs and restaurants, streets bumper to bumper with traffic.

Mr Carver let us out near the stock exchange.

"I'll text you when I find a park," he said, "Keep me informed on what the little bastard gets up to."

"Yes sir," I said. He nodded, confident in my trustworthiness. Boy did I feel like a creep though.

Walking down the slick sidewalk toward the stock exchange building, butterflies stirred in my belly.

"Do you think this is a good idea?" I asked Ivy.

"Oh no, not at all, but we're here now," she replied with a grin.

"Do you know anything about this place?" I looked up to the Stock Exchange, a tall brown building with a connecting building to the L station bridging the street.

"Everest? Dad takes his clients here sometimes," she said, "It's hard to get in without a reservation, and the plates all start about two hundred bucks."

"Jesus," I said.

"A Michelin star lets you charge what you want," she said, "The food is good though, I've been here a couple of times."

"Rich girl," I said with a teasing sneer.

"Ready to see how the other half lives, poverty boy?" she said, offering her arm.

I took it, putting my nose in the air like I was the rich snob from an old black and white movie. Never mind the cracks in my shoes. I doubt we'd pass the dress code. Smart casual I was not.

Everest it turned out was on the top floor, hence the name. The 40th floor of a 40 floor building, giving it a good look down on the streets of Chicago. I thought it served French food but Ivy insisted it was 'Alsace', whatever the hell an Alsace was. Some part of European that kept switching from one country to another over the years. We entered the stock exchange lobby and it felt like stepping into a palace. Trust the financial elite to make their work place the sort of place a king would feel comfortable in. I was starting to think 200 a plate was small change for whoever worked in a place like this.

It made me fidgety, and a little angry. How could a place like this exist within spitting distance of the bombed out wasteland of the south side? With the homeless looking for shelter in gloomy avenues, trying to escape the chill and the predators stalking the night. Opulence and poverty, side by side.

But Ivy seemed comfortable in this kind of place, relaxed, even casual.

The question I should be asking was, how do we get into the restaurant? We didn't have a reservation, I didn't have any money, and all it would take was one wrong turn for Ayesha to notice us.

Maybe there was a staff entrance. I could sneak in, pretend to be a busboy or something if I could find a uniform. One that fit.

Or I could walk through the front door, and trust Ivy knew what she was doing.

>trust Ivy to lead the way
>try to find a way to sneak in

>>4666977
>trust Ivy to lead the way
This is not our area of expertise

>>4666977
>trust Ivy

If she has nothing we can try busboy

>>4666977
>trust Ivy to lead the way

>>4667060
>>4667025
>>4666982
locked in

"Just follow my lead, champ," Ivy said, patting my arm.

We stepped into the elevator, doors closing. Even the damn elevator was classy. We stood in silence as it clicked up 40 floors. I didn't know if the feeling in my guts was from the weightless pull of the ascending elevator, the thought of what we were doing, or the grip of Ivy's arm around mine. I don't know what I was thinking, but I tried to think of Kay. Maybe one day I could walk her into a restaurant this nice, and pay for our dinner.

The doors slid open and we stepped out to light piano music, the clink of cutlery and soft murmured conversation. Everest was smaller than I expected, square tables set overlooking wall sized windows that looked down on the city below. 'Small' wasn't the right word. 'Exlusive' maybe. There was a small line waiting to be seated, the guy at the front, I guess you'd call him a maitre-d', managing their bookings. He was a neat middle aged Latino man in a black waistcoat with a ready warm smile for the next booking.

I was not dressed for the occasion. My denim jacket felt shabby next to the corporate blazers and sports coats of the 'gentlemen' waiting with their ladies. Even my smell was off, everyone was perfumed or cologned, the women floral, the men like wood and alcohol. My hands balled into fists in a protective instinct. I was aware of the scrape of skin missing on my knuckle, the callouses forming over the knuckle bones, the scar on my cheek and the ones hidden under my clothes.

I had a collection of battle scars you didn't normally find on a fifteen year old. The men here, fit and trim as they were, were gym fit, built in private for aesthetics and personal pleasure. It made me feel rough, coarse, and unwelcome. Mostly it made me feel awkward. I put my attention on looking for Ayesha. They weren't in line so they must be seated. Not at any of the intimate square tables I could see.

I focused so hard on hunting for her I was oblivious to what was around me until a polite cough turned my head.

"Now that's something," a familiar voice said, "I wouldn't think a place like this would be too interesting to teenagers."

"Oh well, you know, why not do something fancy for a change, to be special?" Ivy replied, "There's only so many pizzas a girl can eat."

A woman ahead of us had turned with a smile. Madeline Grant wore a tight black dress with a wide golden belt clipped around her waist, a little white purse in her hand. I swallowed. Did she recognize me?

"Well its cute," she said, "but I hope your boy knows how expensive this place can be."

"Oh, I'll be paying," Ivy said, "We can't expect a guy to foot every bill, right?"

Ms Grant smiled. "Well he's a lucky guy," she said, "If he doesn't mind. You'd be surprised how often men get annoyed when you try to pay for them."

"Oh I'm rarely surprised," Ivy said, "You're the lady aren't you? The lawyer who got kidnapped by the mob."

Ms Grant's smile slipped. "That's me," she said, "The perils of crime fighting, I'm lucky to be alive."

"Well I think you're a real hero," Ivy said, "To go through that then jump straight back in."

Ms Grant laughed. "Well, you might but my psychiatrist thinks otherwise. It's nice to meet you though, Miss...?"

"Ivy," she said, "Ivy Chambers, and this is Eric." She struck me in the ribs with her elbow with a sly wink.

"Nice to meet you Ms Grant," I mumbled, fiddling with my collar.

"So you aren't the only one who knows who I am," Ms Grant said to Ivy, "Well I hope you both have a lovely night."

"You too," I said. As I said it a scruffy guy in a poorly fitted coat shuffled up, fixing his glasses. He looked as out of place as I did, with a patchy beard as wild as his hair and white like he didn't get a lot of sun.

"Albert, finally," Ms Grant said. He broke into a smile.

"Well this ain't a Wrigley Field hot dog stand," he said, then winked at me.

They were seated ahead of us, then it was our turn to step forward.

The maitres d' was kind enough not to scoff at the sight of me.

"And you have a reservation?" he offered with a healthy slice of skepticism. Couldn't blame the guy.

"Oh you know my father has a regular booking, Miguel," she said, "With Chambers and McGregg Finances."

He blinked. "Oh forgive me for not recognizing you Miss Ivanna," he said, "You're normally more..."

"Dressed up?" she said, "Or with my parents?"

"Again, very sorry," he said, "And your companion?"

"Oh I picked him up from a rescue shelter. Isn't he just the most adorable thing?" she said. She was enjoying this too much.

My smile made him blanche.

"And we'll charge this visit to your father's account?" he said.

"Naturely," she replied.

"Do give my regards to your parents when you see them," he said.

"Oh you know they adore you Miguel," she said as he let us through.

Jesus that was easy. How rich were Ivy's parents that they kept a regular table at a dig like this? A bit more than middle class.

A waiter came to our table to get us seated while I kept an eye out for Ayesha. I caught a glance of a neat afro, a soft giggle that sounded familiar, but we ended up seated by the window, the long drop of the building separated by a plate of clear glass, the twinkling lights of the city beneath us. It could almost be romantic if I wasn't so damn nervous. Also the fact I had a girlfriend.

I tried to act casual, which amounted to slouching in the chair.

"So you got us in, what's the play now?" I asked.

"Now we order something," she said, picking up the menu, "Then make an excuse to get closer to Ayesha. Without being caught."

"Easy said, harder done," I muttered, glancing over my shoulder to where she was seated.

She was caught up in conversation with her guy, a light skinned black kid barely over eighteen. Unlike me he was dressed for this kind of place.

They were seated beside the bar.

Maybe I could slip by and order a drink, listen in. Maybe it was too soon for that. All these moving variables. A busboy at least had an excuse to move around. I felt locked to the table.

At least the company was good. Ivy smiled down at the menu, the light catching her hair, lighting it into a golden halo.

I turned awkwardly in the seat.

>go to the bar to eavesdrop
>wait a little, moving too soon could blow the whole game

>>4667142
enhance our senses, focus in on their conversation

>>4667148
Worth a shot. Let's order first so the waiter doesn't get weirded out by our intense concentration.

>>4667142
>try enhancing our senses
Best part is if it makes us hungry we're at a restaurant already

>>4667148
>>4667161
>>4667163
locking in using enhanced senses

inb4 we get sensory overload and freak the fuck out

I had another option. I had my powers. If I focused maybe I could listen in.

Before that though, I ordered.

"It's all in French," I said, scanning the menu.

"Haute cuisine," Ivy said, "I can order for you if you want."

"You speak French?" I said.

"No, but I've been here enough to know what most of the menu is," she said, flicking back her hair.

"Sure," I said, handing the menu over to her, "Just nothing too weird."

"No escargot to go?" she said, then shook her head, "Sorry, one of Dad's stupid jokes. God I hate it when I say something he'd say."

She had a lot of reasons to hate her parents, maybe a few more she hadn't let on.

But tonight my focus was Ayesha. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I focused on that internal fire, the one I always imagined resting in my gut. It wasn't a literal fire, I think. I don't know why I imagined it as a fire, or with white, near invisible flames. But I did. I stoked the fire now, focusing on my breathing, my hearing. Trying to...reach out.

"You okay?" Ivy asked, her voice sounding in the depths of my ear.

"Quiet," I said, "I'm trying something." If my tone was harsh its only because her voice had been a physical flick on my ear drum, not painful exactly, but distracting.

"-so we bought the place for half the retail value, boy were they shocked-"

"-up the rent. Its a good time to invest, the whole near south is being developed. It'll be as nice as Lincoln-"

"-all over my shoes. Can you believe it? So we had to let her go. I do feel bad though, all the way back to Guetamala-"

"I hadn't really thought about it," Ayesha's voice, honey in my ears. I focused on it. "I know my parents want me to get into community planning, they're from that generation you know."

"I heard the same thing," the warm bassy voice must be Malcolm, "Telling me I could be the next Obama. Didn't really want to know what I wanted to do."

"But chemical engineering is so interesting," she said.

"Thanks, not a lot of people agree," he replied, "I'm hoping to work in renewable energy. It's a growing industry with interesting prospects."

"Oh and its important," Ayesha replied, "We need to do everything we can as fast as we can to get emissions down."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "But I don't want to talk about me. Come on, if you could do anything, no limits, what would it be? I don't want to hear what your parents told me you should be doing, tell me those little kid dreams."

"Oh well, if we're going pure fantasy I always wanted to be an astronaut," she said, "Um, no that's not 100% true, I wanted to be a space adventurer, Star Fleet command. See the cosmos, discover strange alien creatures, get in just the right level of danger."

"That or be a triceratops," she said.

"Underrated dinosaur," he said.

It was all very nice so far. The jagoff.

"So maybe I could be a writer," she said, "I'm kind of a daydreamer you know, and I've written a bit of um, fanfiction."

"U of C has some great writing programs, your Mom kows some of the African lit professors I think," he said.

"You think I could get into U of C?" she said.

"If I can, you can," he said, "Even last year everyone knew you were the smartest girl at school. Not just for your grade too."

"Oh please, croissants have less butter than you," she said, "But it is my first choice. Second is probably Harvard."

"Boston? That's a big step down from Chicago. I mean amazing university, but the city culture?"

"You could start a few fights talking like that," she giggled. "So how can you even afford this place? Are your parents rich?"

"They do okay, but nah, I have a paid internship over with Ixion, you know, the energy company. They take care of me."

The blood stopped in my veins, my focus went off. I opened my eyes to see Ivy watching me with concern.

I was still sense-sharpened, and her eyes became brilliant blue sapphires drawing me in. I could feel every sharp breath in my chest. I must have had panic on my face, because she put her hand over mine. I'd never felt something so warm and soft. I could feel the pulse of her through the palm of her hand, as if it were melding into mine. The smell of her flooded over my, intoxicating.

"Are you okay?" her voice reverberated through my skull, a bell strike.

I coughed and pulled my hand away, lurching back in my seat. Wrenched back so much my seat toppled back. I threw my hands out to catch the table, all I managed to do was pull the table cloth down with me as I slammed into the ground cutlery and plates crashing to the ground.

It turned a few heads. Ivy flinched, going pink, pulling up the collar of her purple jacket.

"Hey, everything okay?" Malcolm's voice, the scrape of his chair as he got up to check on us, the other diners content to mutter as the maire d' strode over.

"We should...we should go," I croaked on my back, senses beginning to dull back to normal.

But not before I saw a black inkspot on the night sky, growing larger, moving, hurtling towards us.

The window pane exploded in a shower of glass as a figure in black burst through, whipping back his wings, stepping in with silver bright talons hooking the frame for balance.

"Prepare yourselves, little lambs," he shrieked in a sharp falsetto, "The Black Claw has come!"

Oh thank God, I thought as chaos errupted through the restaurant. A super villain.

>time to go
>time to fight

>>4667296
oh no he's cool

>>4667297
>>time to fight

>>4667297
>get Ivy and Ayesha clear, and also Malcolm I guess. Go back and fight if it seems the Black Claw is going to hurt people, but if it's just a hold up robbery stay gone.

>>4667297
>time to go
Too much heat stopping another villain in our actual identity

>>4667297
>>time to fight

>>4667297
>time to go
Semper Fi is gonna show up to save the rich people, calling it now

>>4667407
>>4667327
>>4667313
locking that in

actually I ralized I don't have time to write the next update so I'm going to reopen the vote until I'm back tomorrow

sorry for the shorter one today

>>4667416
Thanks for running!

Actually a relief I'm not going to miss anything since I have to sleep now too.

>>4667297
>time to go

File: titan.jpg (141 KB, 528x796)

141 KB JPG

>>4665921
>"It's not a movie," Hunter said, "It's from this old book by a guy called Richard Shaver. He knew the truth and tried to tell everyone. There's beings living beneath the earth, alien beings, and the Explosion was their signal to rise up and prepare the earth for invasion. Dougie Hicks talked about it on the last episode of the Mars Expression."
AROOOOOOOGA! HUMMINA HUMMINA HUMMINA BAZOOOOOOOOING!!!!

File: snekgirl.png (2.37 MB, 870x1280)

2.37 MB PNG

>>4667653
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF!

File: Coomer3.gif (2.43 MB, 498x413)

2.43 MB GIF

>>4667653
>>4667656

>>4667297
>time to fight

>>4667653
>tfw no pointy tits classic scifi gf

>>4667297
>"So maybe I could be a writer," she said, "I'm kind of a daydreamer you know, and I've written a bit of um, fanfiction."
...time to search for hotspur fanfics. or maybe we're better of not knowing

>get Ivy, Ayesha and any and all civilians clear, and also Malcolm I guess. Go back and fight if it seems the Black Claw is going to hurt people, but if it's just a hold up robbery stay gone.

While I understand the thought process of not wanting to fight him I do believe it’s better to get everyone out of harms way, more than one way to be a hero, and is this place really fucking hurting for cash?

leaving wins, with an effort to get ayesha and malcolm out as well

locked in

"Do not attempt to flee your fleecing oh rich little lambs," he crowed, stepping down on the broken glass, cold air rushing in from behind him.

I had to give him points for style, he had a hell of a costume. A silver beaked crow mask hid his face, black gloves topped with silver talons, and a cape made of feathers swept behind him, where under the cape was some kind of jetpack The theatrics were spoiled a little when he produced a handgun and a canvas bag.

The appearance of a gun cowed the patrons of the restaurant, particularly when he fired a shot toward the door.

"I insist you keep your seats," he said.

I grabbed Ivy's wrist. I looked to her. Shard of glass sparkled in her hair, her eyes wide. 'Let's go,' I urged with a glance. She nodded. We began to crawl from the scene, staying low between the tables.

"All your riches and your baubles into the bag," he said, advancing on the first table, clicking back the hammer of his gun.

"Freeze!" a man rose from a nearby table drawing a concealed firearm, a big, moustached guy. The Black Claw paused, then put the canvas bag on the table.

"Every ring, necklace and dollar bill," he instructed, "While I deal with this interloper."

He turned to confront the off-duty cop with a sweep of his cape.

"Beware before you discharge your pistol, policeman," he said, "For you'll find my powers most paranormal provide impervious protection from its perils!"

"What?" the cop said, "Fuck you asshole."

The gunshot split the air, hitting the Black Claw in the chest. The villain cough, putting a hand over the smoking hole. Then removing it, held the flattened bullet in his palm.

"As I said," he said, then turned his own gun and shot the cop in the shin. The cop dropped swearing, grabbing his lower leg. "Let that be a lesson to all of you!" he crowed, brandishing the gun in lazy circles.

I stopped at the sight of the downed cop, my instincts now to intervene, but Ivy squeezed my hand, turned her head toward the kitchen doors. A back exit.

I chewed my bottom lip, flicking a glance to Ayesha's table. Malcolm was still on his feet, putting himself between her and the supervillain. Black Claw was picking his way from table to table, clucking at the guests as they dropped bangles and earrings into the bag. A lack of cash of course, but who carried cash these days?

We had to get them out of here too, even if it gave us away. I hissed sharp while the Black Claw was preoccupied, sitting in a crouch behind a chair. A second hiss caught Malcolm's attention. He frowned. I bobbed my head toward the kitchen door. He frowned again so this time I pointed, then pointed at Ayesha behind him, her attention transfixed on the stalking villain weaving his way toward them.

He took Ayesha's hands, directing her attention to my hiding place. Whatever Ayesha felt seeing me, I couldn't read it on her expression. Slowly though she slid down from her chair, until she was crouched under the chair.

We began to crawl toward the kitchen on hands and knees, the tables a protective screen, hoping Black Claw didn't see or any other patron raise his attention.

Sweat began to crawl down the back of my neck. It wasn't far but it felt forever, and my nerves were tight as I checked to see if Malcolm and Ayesha were following.

We were almost there when Malcolm placed his palm on a shard of glass.

"Ah!"

It turned the Black Claws head as Malcolm lifted a bloody hand, brow knitted in pain, blood weeping from the long tooth of glass in the center of his palm.

"What's that?" he said, beginning toward us.

If we ran we could make the kitchen doors, but the others couldn't outrun a bullet.

>take a chance, break into a run and hope he wasn't a murderer
>distract the Black Claw long enough for the others to flee

>>4668588
>distract the Black Claw long enough for the others to flee
Man, I'm just a kid. I don't have shit for you to take. This isn't an ironically stylish denim jacket. Just let me go.

>a crow wants everyone's shiny shit
lmao
Maybe if we tell him there's a discarded french fry in the parking lot he'll leave

>>4668588
>distract the Black Claw long enough for the others to flee
>>4668606
my sides, if distracting him goes poorly I'm totally into using this banter as a last ditch effort

>>4668612
>>4668596
locked in

>>4668588
>distract the Black Claw long enough for the others to flee

Finally our poorness works to our advantage

I got up and ran the other way.

A gunshot went off into the roof and I skidded to a stop. It sent the other patrons scurrying under their tables, behind chairs, cowering in terror.

"What's this?" he said, "Some boy trying to flee? Give up your riches child, you elites have fed enough on the misery of this city."

"I don't got money Mr Crow," I said, "But if you're looking for food I saw a french fry in the parking lot."

"The Black Claw!" he said, clicking back the hammer of his gun as he stalked toward me, "You'd be careful not to mock me, boy, I am a dangerous man!"

"Don't you need more than one crow to be a murder?" I said.

He didn't like that. The but of his gun whipped around fast. If I'd been trying no way it could have touched me, but the goal was to get Ayesha and Ivy clear. It hit the bridge of my nose with a numbing crunch, cold sweeping through my face. I buckled as blood began to piss out of my nostrils, my eyes squeezed shut on bright silver stars.

"I didn't want to do that," he said, "Now I'll have you wallet."

"Y-yeah," I said, reaching into my jacket pocket. I pulled out my middle finger.

Now I think he was going to shoot me, the barrel of his gun dropping between his eyes.

Then a dinner plate smashed over the back of his head.

"Hey loser, over here!" Ivy said, picking up another.

Goddamn it Ivy.

But as she threw the next like a frisbee I saw Ayesha and Malcolm duck through the kitchen doors.

It hit the Black Claw in the face. "Ah, shit," he muttered, theatrical flair forgotten for a second as crockery smashed over his crow mask, "Damn it, its in my eye! Jesus!" He shook his mask.

I took the moment to run.

"No, goddamn kids," the Black Claw said, firing a shot high over my head, "Jesus Christ!" He kept shaking his head, trying to dislodge the ceramic shard caught in his eye. Ivy threw a champagne glass, smashing it on his chest, soaking it with sparkling wine. "Come on, this is a-a fifty dollar shirt!" he whined as the wine soaked into the black fabric.

For all his whining it didn't make his gun shots less deadly. I grabbed Ivy by the arm as I sprinted past, pulling her back into the kitchen. I kicked through the swinging doors, she was laughing as she followed me back.

Frightened kitchen staff looked up from hiding places. I looked around for Ayesha and Malcolm.

"This way!" Malcolm called from the back, holding a door open, "Everybody, lets get out of here!"

My nose throbbed as I rushed for it, still towing Ivy.

"That was stupid," I snapped over my shoulder at her.

She came up beside me holding my hand, grinning. "Yeah it was," she said.

We ran out the service entrance, back to a private elevator. Malcolm was frantically hitting the down button, bleeding hand held to his chest.

"Hell of a date night, huh?" Ivy said to a confused Ayesha.

"What are you guys doing here?" Ayesha said as I pushed her through the opening door.

"Saving your ass again," I said, the four of us getting on. But we weren't alone, a group of busboys weren't hanging around any longer than they needed to. Who could blame them? No tip was worth risking a bullet.

"Did you follow us here?" Ayesha said, voice tight with outrage.

"Not our biggest problem right now Yesha!" Ivy said as the door closed too slow. I caught a last look of the Black Claw busting out of the kitchen, bird beak mask swivelling left and right before landing on us in the last sliver of the closing door.

I couldn't help myself. I waved, grinning as the door clicked shut.

It was an awkward forty floors down. Ayesha pulled as far from us as she could, right up next to Malcolm, who put his good arm around her in a protective hug.

Ivy pulled out a cigarette. The bus boys turned to look hopeful at the crumpled up packet. Reluctantly she shared them out, and soon us non-smokers were coughing on a thick haze of cigarette smoke.

"You should quit," I said, sniffing. Every sniff stung, I think my nose was broken. "It'll kill you."

"It can get in line," she replied, taking a long drag.

I looked over. She still had pebbles of glass in her hair. I reached out and brushed some out, then off from her shoulder. I didn't think about it, I just did it, and the look she gave me made me think I probably shouldn't have. It was a startled, nervous look, that had her looking away. Great, now things were even more awkward.

"Hey Ivy," Malcolm said.

She finished her cigarette, scuffing it off on her jacket. "Yo," she said on the last smoke out of her lips.

The door opened on the ground floor.

"So either you guys are stalking me," Ayesha said, "Or you're cheating on my bestfriend."

"You know men and women can be friends, its not always romantic," one of the bus boys offered, "You can go to dinner with a friend."

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Ayesha said, her good nature momentarily lost. The bus boy backed away as we got out.

"So which is it?" Ayesha said, hugging herself as we got out in the ornate Stock Exchange lobby.

There were no good options here.

> we were on a date (lie)
> we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)

I've said it before but I need to proof read more before I post.

>>4668696
> we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)
Sorry. Just wanted to make sure Malcolm was a good guy. Seems like he is. Promised your dad I would look out for you.

>>4668696
>we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)

>>4668696
> we were 'stalking' you, I guess (truth)

>>4668741
>>4668710
>>4668709
locking that in

"Now 'stalking' is a strong word," I said as we emptied out into the lobby, "We were just looking out for you."

"I can look out for myself," Ayesha said, "I don't need a babysitter, and I don't need a big brother. And I don't need friends who think they know what's best for me." I'd never seen Ayesha so angry before, her teeth clenched in a deep scowl, distrust in her eyes as she looked from me to Ivy.

"Hey now Yesha, cool down," Malcolm said, "Maybe they stepped over the line, but they had your best interests at heart."

It's around then the police turned up, with ambulances with them. One of the busboys went to fill them in on what had gone down, while the rest of us were herded out to make statements and get checked by the paramedics. But we were divided, me and Ivy on one side, Ayesha and Malcolm on the other.

"Your nose is broken," An Asian paramedic said.

"Not the first time," I replied, then yelped when he set it. I snorted out a last bit of blood, still a bit dazed.

"Does it hurt if I do this?" Ivy asked, poking the bridge of my nose. She sat on a gurney, legs swinging under her.

"Yes," I said, swatting away her finger as she giggled. "Is this really a time to laugh? We ruined Ayesha's night and now she hates us."

"Oh you're as melodramatic as the super villain upstairs," she said, "Ayesha will scowl for a while but she'll come around to the right apology. And anyway, it was your idea, not mine."

"My idea? You suggested it," I said.

"Hey, I was just giving you permission to do what you were going to do anyway," she countered.

I looked over to Ayesha. She was still glaring at us over her shoulder as Malcolm's hand was bandaged up. More of the patrons were being brought down, rugged up in blankets for the shock. Turned out the Black Claw had split shortly after we did, probably gone to count his baubles in some hidden roost. No doubt the DPA would be on his case soon.

But my attention was more on Ayesha and my own sore feelings. I really had done wrong by her. Seeing her so upset, it hurt worse than my nose. It hurt more when she came over, no hint of forgiveness on her face, pulling a blanket provided by the ambulance crew around her shoulders.

"So," she said, "I've been thinking."

We both straightened up.

"You really crossed a line tonight Eric," she said, "But...this is also the second time you've rescued me from a supervillain."

"Hey, hello, I'm here too," Ivy muttered.

"So we're still friends?" I said.

She glared, then drew out her hand from under her blanket, put it on my cheek, feeling around my battered nose. I swallowed. She had soft, gentle fingers.

Then she pinched the bridge of my nose. "Fuck!" I howled.

She grinned. "Yep, we're square," she said, backing away. Malcolm came up behind her, putting a protective arm around her shoulder. "So I guess you guys should be introduced. Malcolm, this is Eric, Eric, this is Malcolm."

"Hey," he said, putting out his hand, "I think I might owe you one. That was brave what you did back there."

I shook his hand, reminding myself he worked for Ixion and couldn't be trusted. "It was stupid," I said, "But in my defence I'm an idiot. Nice to meet you."

"I don't remember you from school," he said.

"I transferred in this year," I said, "I'm originally from Indiana."

"Oh yeah, the basketball player right? You getting on with Mr Nfume? He got me into chemistry."

"We get on okay," I said.

When Ayesha's dad came up the street in a sharp breathed panic, Ivy went off with Ayesha to meet him, leaving us alone.

I checked Malcolm again. He was a good looking guy. Former highschool quarterback, smart too if he had a paid internship with a multinational like Ixion. And he'd stepped up for Ayesha inside. Maybe he was a decent guy.

"So you know, now that we're alone," he said, "You mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Ayesha, she ever have a serious boyfriend before?" he said.

"Not that I know," I replied.

"Yeah, its only she turns sixteen in a couple of months and I'm looking forward to it," he said, "You know, fresh. Give her a first time for a long time."

My skin prickled cold as he chuckled. "A fine girl like that deserves the best, you know what I'm saying?" he said with a grin, "Don't pretend you haven't checked out her ass. It's a piece of art."

The roar of my inner fire dulled the pain in my head, rage tightening my jaw.

"Yeah, I figured you'd understand, player like you two timing your own girl with fine-ass Ivy. I see the way you two are flirting," he said, "And after sticking our necks out like tonight, we are in, don't you doubt it," he said, smiling up at the top floor of the Stock Exchange. My fist shook in my lap, trying not to nail him in the side of the face. Boy did he have me figured wrong.

When Ayesha came back she gave Malcolm a kiss on the cheek, sending him over to talk to her dad.

"So what do you think?" she said, "I know about the age difference, but he's sweet, a real gentleman."

>...he seems cool to me
>he's all wrong for you Ayesha

>>4668824
I think he's less of a gentleman than you think. Said some less than appropriate shit to me about you just now. But you're right when you say I don't know what's best for you.

>>4668824
>he's all wrong for you Ayesha

>>4668824
>...he seems cool to me

>>4668824
>...he seems cool to me

>>4668824
>...he seems cool to me

Not that we really know him that well after one evening

>>4668836
Support

>>4668824
>>4668865
wait fuck
somehow I thought kay's dad showed up at the end but that was malcolm

still he was acting pretty decent before, maybe he was just saying that because he thinks we are that type of person?

probably stick with calling him cool for now because he clearly knows how to put on an act, Ayesha wouldn't believe us if we told her about that little bit of speech

but keep watching him

>>4668864
>>4668843
>>4668865
locking in he seem cool but I'll include some of this: >>4668836
as a write in

"He seem cool," I said. I didn't want to line step again tonight. But when her warm smile grew I felt I had to say something. "But, you know, maybe he's not the saint you think he is. Is all I'm saying. Maybe you're right though, when you said I don't know what's best for you."

"It's true but, it still matters to me what you think," she said, "You're my friend, he's my boyfriend, it matters to me that you guys get along."

It tickled something in the back of my head. "Would it matter what Rufus thought, or Zeke?" I said.

"Um," she said, "Maybe but...Rufus and Zeke didn't save my life." She smiled at me, she smiled for me, and I really got a sense of what Malcolm was thinking. She squeezed my fingers and I really, really didn't like Malcolm on a deep level. I must have been staring though because after a minute she coughed and looked away, fussing with her hair. "Anyway, Dad's going to drive me home. I'll see you tomorrow, at the..."

The funeral.

"Yeah," I said, looking to where Ivy was talking to Mr Carver, puffs of mist passing her lips at every word. She laughed at something, her eyes closed. When she opened them she looked back at me, folded her hair back away from her face with a smile.

God what was wrong with me? I was looking at Ayesha, I was looking at Ivy, and I had a girlfriend already, a girl who was great, who I cared about. Ayesha and Ivy didn't like me like that, I didn't like them like that. Maybe it was just hormones. Last year I'd spent half my time in the bathroom dealing with them.

"You need something for the pain?" the paramedic asked. I'd forgotten he was there.

Nothing he could give me could deal with what I was feeling right now. Right now I just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and pretend I was better than I am. Or the opposite maybe.

"Hey," Ivy said, coming over, "Thanks for taking me out tonight. This was a lot of fun, it really took my mind off things."

"Getting attacked by a supervillain is your idea of fun?" I said.

"It's yours isn't it?" she said. I couldn't fight her there.

"Are you nervous," I said, "About tomorrow?"

"Honestly, I kind of just want to get it over with," she said, "Is that bad?"

I shrugged. "It would be weirder if you were looking forward to it," I said.

"You know Mom called me a sociopath once," she said, "I was impressed, I didn't think she knew what a sociopath was. Then she booked me this psychiatrist when I was ten. Put me on a bunch of prescriptions I can't even pronounce. I don't know if they helped, mostly they just left me staring at the wall."

She stepped back like she'd said more than she meant to.

"Anyway, come on," she said, "Unless you want to walk home."

Mr Carver dropped me off shy of midnight. It had been an awkward car ride home, for me at least. Ivy and Ayesha were already chatting as if nothing had gone down between them. Mr Carver at least seemed as uncomfortable as I was, and we shared a an awkward companionship in the front seat.

When I got in, Dad was still up.

"Ayesha's mother called me, are you okay?" he said, checking the bruise on my face.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You sure do have a need to jump in front of danger, don't you," he said.

"I just need sleep Dad, can we talk in the morning?"

He took me by the shoulders, put a kiss on my head. "Sure kid, get some rest," he said, pulling me into a firm hug.

When I did get to bed though, all I did was lay in the dark thinking. Going over the night. Everything with the Black Claw seemed almost inconsequential. I kept replaying images of Ivy, then Ayesha, then Ivy and Ayesha. Then Kay crept into my thoughts and I thought about the three of them. I rolled over groaning.

All of this with a funeral in the morning. What the hell was wrong with me?

-

I'll be back tomorrow

I'm tired and not sure if I'll be running tomorrow

Just having a bad couple of days

>>4669144
Don't worry QM. Rest up and take it easy, we'll be here. Stay safe.

>>4669144
Hope you feel better

>>4669144
Sorry to hear that man, hope you feel better!

>>4668965
I think it'll be good for Eric to get a break from all this stuff in Indiana for a bit. He's been through some shit.

"God, can we just get this over with?"

The mourners wore black, gathered under a gray morning sky.

November snow stood in humble patches across the grass, fallen in the night and already melting. Evergreen trees stood watch upon the cemetary as we gathered around a small casket.

It was a humble service attended by strangers. If Ivy had any friends there other than me and Ayesha I didn't recognize them. They were all adults, come for the grieving couple, work friends and important clients come to pay their respects. The exception was Janice, the nurse, standing alone with tears in her eyes.

I didn't know what to expect from Ivy's parents. Her dad looked like Stephen King, large glasses dominating a long horse-like face, shorter than her mom, who stood in a fur coat dabbing pink eyes with a tissue as a bearded priest in black droned on in Slavic from an ornate bible. We didn't stand with them, Ivy kept her distance, a sneer of contempt on her lips.

"Look at them," she said, "Now they cry. Now they care."

Her dad removed his glasses to run the sleeve of his coat over his eyes, leaning on his wife for support as if his legs might give out.

Ivy's hand tightened in mine, tightened with anger.

"You're allowed to cry too Ivy," Ayesha said, holding her other hand.

"What's there left to cry about?" Ivy said, "There's nothing in the box, its just a body. Grace is gone. This is just a show put on so my parents don't feel guilty."

I'd say she was being unfair to her parents, even mean, but I knew where her anger was coming from.

"It must have been hard flying up from Malibu," she said.

The Slavic priest droned on. I watched Mr and Mrs Chambers, joined in misery above the casket. There was something a little staged in it. Mrs Chambers stayed beautiful with her perfect trail of tears down her perfect cheeks, Mr Chambers' face hung in anguish but it never betrayed more than a tremble of his lip. Maybe I was being mean. I hadn't cried at my mom's funeral, I'd stood in cold silence while Dad collapsed at the pulpit, failing to finish the eulogy he'd written, having to sit down and let Uncle Anthony finish it for him, his sister's husband.

Now speakers shared their memories of Grace, but the girl they talked about was vague and unknown, their recollections general to the point of generic, the image of a perfect little girl, a living saint too good for this world.

When it came time for Mr Chambers to speak, all he said was, "Our baby girl," before walking off.

"They don't know her," Ivy said, "None of them knew her. She wasn't an angel. She used to throw rocks at cars and steal my things. She once tripped our housekeeper and twisted her ankle. She was sorry for it but she did it. She accidentally fed our dog chicken bones and nearly killed him She used to burp in my ear because I thought it was disgusting. She...she..."

Pall bearers began to lower the casket into the ground, sliding it down to a sad song playing on a speaker.

"She's scared of the dark," Ivy said, as the casket was lowered down, as handfuls of earth were thrown down upon the casket, "Don't...don't put her in the ground. She'll be scared."

I grabbed her as she started forward, pulled her into a hug. She whimpered against me, holding on.

"Please Eric, she'll be scared," she croaked.

I held her tight as the coffin disappeared under the mounds of earth, a shudder rising from her throat. Ayesha wept silently behind her, a hand on her back. My heart squeezed hard and I closed my eyes, teeth grit in a kind of pain. When the time came our hug broke, Ivy sagging, her breathing growing steady against my chest. Her face was haggard and ugly with red splotches, and I pushed her hair back behind her ears. When I did she held my hands to her face, breathing deep.

I swallowed trying to force away the emotion building up inside me as I cupped her tear stained cheeks. But it was the comfort she needed, and I wouldn't deny her that.

Then her parents at last approached, dry grass crunching with each step, and the moment passed.

"Mom, Dad," she said, a hand to my shoulder with me as a shield between them.

I was given a glance before their attention turned on their surviving daughter.

"It's time to come home, Ivanna," her mother said. She spoke with a thick accent, the kind belonging to an 80s Russian villain. "We need to be a family now."

"Ivy," her dad said, "We haven't been the best parents lately, but you have to understand this hasn't been easy for us. But we...we want to make that up to you. Please, let us do that for you."

"Fuck you," Ivy spat. It was about as clear a statement as could be made.

Her mother scoffed while her dad's eyes widened. He checked his glasses. "Now young lady there's no call for a potty mouth," he snapped, then wilted up in himself, "But...I understand, you're upset." Then he looked to me, offering a smile. "Maybe you can talk to her," he said, "Or you." He looked to Ayesha. "You're her friends, you can convince her its for the best. A family should be together at a time like this."

"Do you even know their names?" Ivy said. Her dad's eye twitched.

>Maybe he's right, Ivy, you should be with family
>I have to agree with Ivy, fuck you sir

>>4674412
>"Everyone handles grief in their own way, Mr. Chambers. Ivy knows what's best for herself."

>>4674412
If you're gonna actually be parents to Ivy then she should be with you now. But if you're just gonna leave her alone again then what's the point

>>4674443
Seconded

>>4674443
>>4674503

locking that in

"Everyone handles grief in their own way Mr Chambers, Ivy knows what's best for herself," I said.

"My daughter is a fifteen year old girl," he said, "She hardly knows what's in her best interests."

"I'll be sixteen in February," she said, "And when I am I'm going to get emancipated, then I'll never have to see either of you ever again."

"Oh please darling, don't speak such nonsense, you can't survive without your father's money," her mother said.

Ivy bristled. "I'm not like you Mom, I don't need a pimp," she said.

Mrs Chambers turned pale. Mr Chambers caught her hand before she could slap her daughter. Ivy glared, sticking her chin out, inviting it.

A cruel rage took hold of Mrs Chambers.

"You ungrateful little slut," Mrs Chambers said, "After everything your father has done for you, kept you from being expelled, kept you out of prison, all because you spread your legs for a disgusting little music teacher, you have the gall, the gall."

"Easy Olga, easy," Mr Chambers said with an awkward smile. He looked over his shoulder at his daughter. "You're being unfair to your mother, Ivanna, saying such nasty things. Now apologize."

I expected rage, I expected fury, I expected Ivy to go on the attack. Instead the sound that came from Ivy, the look on her face, all drained of color and life, was haunted as she stared in horror at her parents.

"He raped me," her voice was glass breaking.

"Oh please," her mother sneered, "Spare us this play-acting. You knew what you were doing."

Ivy looked to me, to Ayesha, then just looked lost, staggered. It was a miracle she kept her feet.

Dark thunder boomed in my mind. They were worse than I'd imagined.

"You're her mother," Ayesha's looked in horror at Ivy's parents. I stood in quiet rage.

"It should have been you," Mrs Chambers said, "Not my little Grace. It should have been you, you venomous, hateful little girl."

"Olga, please!" Mr Chambers said, angrily cleaning his glasses, "This is isn't...isn't how I wanted this to go." He looked away with a clenched jaw. "Look, come home if you want, but when you do it better be with an apology. Your mother is grieving, she doesn't need your slander on top of it. She was our daughter for Christ's sake."

Ivy didn't have words. I don't think anyone did, not for something like that.

Maybe Mr Chambers felt some shame. At least he couldn't look Ivy in the eye. At least they left without further comment. I watched the vile couple leave, at last able to unclench my fists.

When I looked back to Ivy I saw her robbed of all the self-possessed confidence I'd come to know her by. Instead there was a pale, terrified little girl struggling to hold back tears. "I'm sorry," she said. I don't know to who.

"Please don't say that," Ayesha said, hugging her from behind. Ivy tried to pull away. Ayesha held on. "You don't ever have to be sorry."

If there was one thing I knew Ivy hated it was pity, but if there was ever one thing she needed it was comfort. The conflict played out across her face. Shame, guilt, yearning.

>pull Ayesha away from Ivy, spare her the pity
>help comfort Ivy, she needs it

>>4674594
>help comfort Ivy, she needs it

>>4674594
>help comfort Ivy, she needs it

dang those are bad parents
maybe we can link them to hotspur and get them killed by Navaja before they cut ivy out of the inheritance.

>>4674594
>help comfort Ivy, she needs it

>>4674594
>help comfort Ivy, she needs it

The fact that Kay was about to talk about how Ivy lost her virginity when it turns out she got raped really isn't okay

>>4674606
>>4674620
>>4674621
>>4674624
locking that in

I put my arms around both girls and that was it, it was too much for Ivy. Her struggle gave out, and her tears poured silent and free as she collapsed between us, bringing us down to her knees to hold her on the cold, wet ground. If it drew any attention it was discomfort from the guests and a sympathetic eye from the Orthodox priest, but we didn't pay them any attention.

Our focus was on Ivy, offering her silent warmth, holding her between us. Ayesha kissed her tear stained cheek, muttering comforting sounds in her ear, I stroked back her thick blonde hair. Love, how could Ivy have ever known love with parents like that? Was that what the teacher had offered her, to draw her into his bed? Is that what she was looking for in the weekend parties, losing herself in alcohol and the attention of older boys? Is that what she'd tried to get from Kay, but only found a broken friendship?

And now she'd lost her little sister, the only true love in her life.

My own tears fell in her hair. My dad wasn't always there but I never doubted he loved me. My mom. Losing her had been losing half the love of the world, and why I'd never been able to cry. How could I mourn something where grief seemed too small a word for what was taken? But I could mourn now with someone who knew, knew what it was like to chase distractions to avoid the missing part of myself.

"I love you Ivy," Ayesha said. Ivy turned from my chest, staring through tears. Her words wouldn't come to her, so instead she found Ayesha's lips, finding it with a kiss, then turning, found my own too. It wasn't romantic or sexual, it wasn't meant like that as her lips closed over mine, my own soft kiss returning. But how could I explain it? It was a love kiss, full of love's grief and comfort.

And it disgusted me how much it warmed me, how it drove me to give a second kiss, stronger and more certain, that she was eager to take. Then from me turn to share with Ayesha, a long kiss, a strange bond of love between us.

I love her. I couldn't lie to myself now. I loved Kay too. What kind of man am I? I should have been embarrassed or ashamed, but I wasn't.

Ivy swallowed back something hard, then rattled out a weak laugh.

"God I'm pathetic," she said, sounding more like herself, rubbing at her eyes as we gave her more space. Self-concious, uncertain. "I'm sorry, really. About...that."

"I'm not," I said, taking her by a hand.

"I'm not either," Ayesha said, holding the other.

A smile dawned on Ivy's drained face.

"Thank you," she said, "Both of you."

Ayesha smiled, holding her around the shoulder. "Come on," she said, "Let's get you home."

We walked her through the cemetary, where the parents, Ayesha's parents and my dad that is, stood talking.

"So you're going to Indiana," Ivy said, "When will you be back?"

"Next Sunday," I said, "It's only for Thanksgiving. If you need me..."

"I know," she said, looking away, brushing back her hair.

"I'll take care of her," Ayesha said, hugging Ivy, "For both of us."

"Please, I'm not some weak little girl," Ivy said, but she didn't push Ayesha away, "I'll be fine. You just try to enjoy yourself, Eric, if that's even possible in Indiana."

"I'll try to manage," I said, "Again, if you need me...for anything..."

"If I need you," Ivy said, "I'm sure you'll come running."

"And if I don't, you can break my little finger," I said.

"If thou wilt not tell me all things true," she replied.

"But if you do need me, where you go, there shall I go too," I said.

"That's not the line," she said.

I shrugged. "Butchered to fit, but you know I keep my word," I said.

Something sparked in Ayesha's eyes. Suspicion, and for a second I felt uncertain. But all Ayesha did was kiss my cheek. "See you when you get home," she said.

Home. Chicago really was my home now. When I got into the car, as we started our drive to Indiana, it felt like leaving home.

This is where I belonged, I decided. This was where I was from. As we left the cemetary I knew, this was my home.

Goodbye, Chicago. I'll be home soon.

taking a break

Well that was unexpected

I'll pick up the quest tomorrow but maybe I could do a QnA in the mean time? If anyone has questions and so long as they aren't spoilers I'd be happy to answer them.

>>4674789
How are you Bullpen? Is everything ok on your end?
Where did you learn to write so well?
Is there a harem ending?
Who's your favorite girl (and why is it Ivy? jk)

>>4674798
>How are you Bullpen? Is everything ok on your end?
Fine I guess. My dog is sick but he's an old boy so its part of having an elderly dog
>Where did you learn to write so well?
I don't think I do. I get frustrated with my own writing all the time, particularly this quest. I bungled a couple of things, a couple of intros and scenarios

they all read cooler in my head
>Is there a harem ending?
There are many possible endings, some involving characters who haven't been introduced yet, some with Eric alone. It's all down to what you guys do or don't do.
>Who's your favorite girl
I don't want to prejudice anyone for or against a character but I do have a personal 'best girl'. I like all my characters though, even the ones who aren't meant to be likeable.

>>4674817
Thank you for answering my questions! Some follow-up
How far have you planned out the story? Sequel lined up or moving on to another?

>>4674829
>How far have you planned out the story?
pretty far, but nothing like a sequel

>>4674817
I don't think anything ever lives up to how cool it sounds in your head.

What inspired you to run this quest?
Why the name Hotspur?
What is Shark's favorite movie? Was he always nuts or did that just happen after becoming part shark?

>>4674853
>What inspired you to run this quest?
It was originally going to be a Spider-Man quest but then I didn't want to deal with Marvel canon or complaining if I changed the canon. It's entirely its own thing. I like superheroes but I don't like how they're done 90% of the time.
>Why the name Hotspur?
Sounded cool
>What is Shark's favorite movie? Was he always nuts or did that just happen after becoming part shark?
High and Low or Ikiru. The second question is a spoiler.

>>4674868
How different or similar is Eric to the character you had in mind or expected before writing the quest?

>>4674868
Thanks for answering, sorry about that one question. Wasn't sure if it was a power thing or just because he in particular had his physical form changed so drastically.

What falls within the 10% of the time you like of superheroes, because I'm the same way.

>>4674870
I didn't expect you guys to go the sports jock route so he's a much bigger chad than what I originally had in mind.

>>4674875
It seems counter-intuitive but I feel too much superhero stuff gets too caught up in the superheroes

They stop having normal friends and a supporting cast and they just end up having superheroes as friends, rivals and lovers. I think that's a bad thing. I like it when the superhero has a relatively 'normal' love interest and friend group. It's why I think super identities are important, not just to protect people, but to keep from turning the superhero into a supercelebrity just hanging out with other supercelebrities. I don't mind some characters having public identities, like Captain America or Iron Man, but Spider-Man and Daredevil should always be anonymous.

Daredevil and Spider-Man are easily two of my favorite superheroes by the way, though I do have a real love of classic X-Men, which might be obvious from the para-freak stuff in the quest. When X-Men is good there's nothing better in cape books, but when its bad there's nothing worse.

>>4674893
also the reason I love classic X-Men is they still had 'normal' friends like Stevie Hunter, Moira McTaggart, Lee Forrester, Peter Corbeau, a bunch of others. For all it could get weird and cosmic, they had relatively 'normal' connections to draw them back to reality.

>>4674893
I agree. Some of the best drama comes from balance and conflict between the cape identity and the normal one. When characters lose that it gets a lot harder to relate to them, and the writing has to be really good to make it possible.

Salamander has a public identity. How many friends does she have? Does she still train in martial arts? Is there anyone willing to train with her? Does she ever accidently roast them with her powers in the heat of battle?

>>4674932
Salamander grew up in a mob family, her people being mobbed up since the days of Al Capone. She was bounced on the boss' knee as a baby. She always ran with the hoodlum boys when she was a kid, all are either dead now or became made guys. As far back as she could remember she always wanted to be a gangster, now her powers let her do that with less stigma. So everyone she knows is either part of the life or connected to it.

She trains MMA, a lot of professional fighters think its exciting to hang out with a genuine super villain.

ok, see you guys tomorrow

Alright I fucking love how you handled the last few updates and I also like that the ending I want isn’t too far out of reach, honestly if possible having the Trinity of Ayesha, Kay and Ivy would be the best outcome for me. Also we should have all three of them sit down and talk things out when we get back cause Ivy seems in a vulnerable place, Ayesha is definitely gonna feel confused and at least a bit guilty, and I think Kay needs to be told the truth about what Ivy’s been going through. I wanna know about the story behind what happened to Ivy and see if Kay actually knows what happened or if there was a story that was spread as a rumor, Ayesha certainly didn’t seem to know about it, and it’d be a good way to get to the bottom of everything. So yeah lots to do.

Oh yeah Bullpen how have some of the write ins we’ve been making been as choices, have we been doing well in terms of relationships with our friends?

>>4675051
For me having a harem doesn't really line up with the tone of the quest or the setting. This isn't anime. That three way kiss really weirded me out personally. Full disclosure though, I think Ivy is best and only girl for Eric.

>>4675120
You’re free to your opinion and it doesn’t have to happen but personally I could see it and if Bullpen allows it then it’s cool, also it wouldn’t really be a harem. It’d be more like a relationship between multiple people which does exist.

It was a four hour drive to Indianapolis, mostly because Dad didn't want to go through Gary. I didn't blame him, but it meant once we left the city limits it became a game of cornfields and cows. So far the cornfields were winning.

We were driving down the highway in Mrs Valdez's car. She'd loaned it to Dad for the week. It had been awfully kind of her, and Dad said we'd have to make it up to her somehow.

"In other news, a para-freak attack has left a police officer critically injured. Calling himself 'the Black Claw' the para-freak-" Dad shut the radio off, leaving us to drive in silence.

"Horses," Dad muttered as we passed a paddock.

"Cows," I said on my side.

The country was flat and barren at the start of what was promising to be a cold winter.

"Hey Dad," I said, an uncomfortable question churning in my gut.

"Yeah kid?"

"Do you...is it possible to...like more than one person?"

"Sure," he said, "I got lots of friends."

"No I mean...like-like," I said, wilting at the question, feeling stupid for saying it.

"It's called bigamy son and it's illegal," he replied, his attention fixed on the road.

"Nah," I said, "And I don't mean like marriage I mean...I mean here." I touched my chest.

Dad frowned at the road. "I guess," he said, "But its not really fair, is it? If you like a girl, or two girls, its not going to be fair to either of them if you have to split your, uh, 'like' between them when they've only got their eyes for you."

"I guess," I said.

I watched the countryside whip by.

"Muslim guys keep more than one wife, over in the Middle East anyway," he said, "And the ancient Hebrews could take multiple wives. Then there's the Mormons. So I guess in some cultures its okay."

"But not, you know, our culture," he added, "Why, do you 'like' like a couple of girls at school?"

"Maybe," I muttered.

He smiled. "Don't stress yourself kid, it's normal. You're young, and if you're anything like me at your age you're probably ready to explode from hormones running wild. Puberty is a hell of a time."

Harder when you have super powers and a secret identity, I thought. But Dad didn't need to know about that.

My grandparents didn't live exactly in Indianapolis, but trust anyone outside Indiana knowing where Carmel was. Carmel is a suburb north of Indianapolis, almost but not quite part of the bigger city itself. It was a quiet little city, barely more than a hundred thousand people there. Indianapolis didn't even scrape a million. Before moving to Chicago I'd thought Indianapolis was a big place. Now as we drove through the city heart I saw how small it was next to the concrete expanse of my new hometown.

"So why didn't you ask Ms Flores to come?" I asked, innocently enough.

Dad frowned. "I don't think your grandparents would approve," he said.

"Because she's younger than you?" I said.

"That too," he replied, "And anyway, we've only just started seeing each other, and she's got her own family thing going on. Her brother is coming down from Canada."

"But you want her to be here, don't you," I said.

He sighed. "Yeah, a little bit," he said, "You're a perceptive kid, you know that?"

Had to keep my eyes open to keep from catching a bullet. But instead of saying that I just smiled.

"She's been good for you Dad, I approve," I said.

He smiled. "Good, really, that's good."

We pulled into a driveway with the flag flapping out the front on a flag pole. An SUV had beaten us there, taking up most of the drive.

Dad came to a stop behind it.

"Here we are," he said, rubbing his eyes.

The front door banged open and a couple of my cousins came running out. Not to greet us, the little one, Aaron, was running from the oldest boy TJ, laughing as TJ spat after him.

"Get back here you little turd!" TJ yelled. TJ was seventeen, Aaron was nine. Behind them in the doorway was their sister Esther. She gave us a little wave as we got out. Esther was adopted and the same age as TJ, which is why she was Korean and everyone else wasn't. Uncle Tony and Aunt Liz had three other kids hiding somewhere.

"Baby brother!" Auntie Liz said coming out from the garage as we climbed out of the car. Aunt Liz was a porky woman in flannel, about as tall as a tree stump. Her husband Tony followed her down the drive. Tony had been in the Marines but that was a long time ago, as the beer gut would tell anyone. But he was still a big man, bigger than Dad, with muscle hidden under the gut.

"How are you Joe?" Tony said as Dad wrapped his older sister in a hug.

"Doing fine," he said, "How are you guys?"

"Oh we're blessed, really blessed," Auntie Liz said, "Didn't you hear? Esther is going for a Juliard scholarship, TJ made captain of the football team, and oh, don't you know but Tony got a promotion at work."

"Corner office," Tony said, "Boy I tell you, those fellers at Geico sure take good care of me."

"That's great," Dad said, "Congratulations all around."

"Hey, bucko," Uncle Tony said, squeezing my cheek, "How'd you get this dirt on your face?" he thumbed my scar, from when Hector had stabbed me in the face.

>cut myself shaving
>I got stabbed by a junkie

>>4676158
>cut myself shaving

>>4676158
>cut myself shaving

just have to handle something

I'll be back in about an hour

>>4676158
>I got stabbed by a junkie

This was before we got powers, right? People know about this one.

>>4676387
It was right before the Explosion

I'm almost back, sorry about this just need to wrap something up

>>4676158
>>I got stabbed by a junkie

sorry this thing has taken up all my time. I'll be back tomorrow

vote stays open until I do

I'm really sorry about this

>>4676596
No problem OP
Just hope it's only tedious and not serious.

>>4676158
>cut myself shaving
they don't need to know what kind of neighborhood we live in

>>4676158
>cut myself shaving
>>4676596
Don't worry, take care of yourself.

>>4668965
I want to say that this is just puberty kicking in, but maybe it's our power messing with us

It hasn't been long since the incident so I doubt any superbabies are on the way but it's possible that this "ability" is capable of being passed on to offspring, and it's also possible that it WANTS to be passed on to offspring.

Think about it, this incident might not just be a one time period of history where people with powers exist, but rather the beginning of an Era for the parahuman.
I know it's kinda the plot of a cheap hentai but it's atleast supported by the fact that the "ability" seems to have a mind of its own (nat 100) and that it also somewhat shifted our psychological profile around (our unbelievable heroism for a teenage shit)

>>4676158
>cut myself shaving
Don't want to worry them with Chicago's bullshit

Also continuing on with my theory, I am almost convinced that our power is somehow messing with our pheromones or subtly influencing the girls around us to be attracted to us, how else would a previously kissless hugless virgin from a little hicktown suddenly have the three biggest babes of the freshman year all over him? (Freshman because there's definitely senior girls hotter than them since they aren't the talk of the entire school, just their year)

>>4677643
>>4676952
>>4676650
>>4676247
>>4676171
locked in

>>4677643
I honestly don’t believe Bullpen would shoehorn in a gimmick like that, he said that he wanted to make a quest that has to do with both sides of the coin meaning that there’s gonna be drama from relationships as well. Plus it really helps that Eric is a nice guy who happens to also be helpful and caring of their problems and a basketball star without any real ego or arrogance. Quality girls reply to quality and Eric hits a lot of boxes.

"Cut myself shaving," I said.

"Shave? Shave what, this little bit of peach fuzz?" he said, rubbing the stray whisker on my cheek. It was weird being treated like a little kid. Even if it wasn't for the every thing else in my life, I'm fifteen not twelve. But I just forced a smile. Uncle Tony didn't mean nothing by it.

"Now here's a handsome young man!" Auntie Liz said, taking me by the shoulders when her husband was done with me. I was taller than her now, by a fair bit. "Just like your father at your age, I bet you're a lady killer."

"Hey, I wasn't a lady killer," Dad said, "I didn't even go with a girl until college."

"That's because you were just too stupid to notice the girls throwing themselves at you," she said, "But you know what I say, you got the beauty, I got the brains."

Dad blushed.

"Well if you're lucky you got your Mom's smarts," she said, "Now she was a clever lady. Did she ever finish her PhD?"

"She was working on it, before she got sick," Dad said.

"That's a shame. I always thought the two of you worked because you both had your head in the clouds, difference was she understood what she was looking at."

"I heard you're a big basketball star, your dad sent me some video clips of you playing," Auntie Liz said, "So what are you going to do, go play for the Bulls? Why not come home, get drafted into the Pacers."

"They still let white kids play basketball?" Uncle Tony joked, "And the Bulls are a dying franchise anyway."

"Give the boy some air!" an old, cracked voice called from the back of the garage.

When I'd been small I'd thought he was a big old grizzly bear, but the years had put more arctic in his hair, his beard snowy white and time had made him smaller as I got taller. His smile was still full of bright false teeth though, and age hadn't taken the devil's wink out of his eye. I hadn't seen him since the funeral.

"Grandpa!" I couldn't help myself, I ran right into his hug.

"There's my little bear," he said, "Ah but I can't pick you up anymore, not-so-little bear. What have you been feeding this kid?"

I grinned at Grandpa as he pushed me back. "Heard you've been boxing too. I used to box a little in the Navy," he said, "It's a fine sport, character building, but don't think it'll get you anywhere. You keep those brains between your ears, young man."

"Coach says boxing's all about not getting hit in the face," I said.

"Smart coach, better than mine," he said with a chuckle, "Now have you been staying out of trouble?"

"Yeah," I said.

He put on a terrible scowl. "Well that's no good, being young is all about getting into trouble!" he clapped my back, then limped over to Dad, pulled him into a hug. "How are you son?" he said, voice warm with sympathy.

"Surviving," he managed.

"We'll talk later, you and me," Grandpa said, "I've got a twelve year old malt to split with you."

"Sure Dad," he said, "Is Mom around?"

"In the kitchen, keeping busy," he said, "Now Tony, where are the rest of my grandkids?"

"They're around," Tony said, looking for his wild brood.

"You two have so many kids I'd swear you were Mexicans," Grandpa chuckled.

"We're just blessed is all," Auntie Liz said.

"Well whistle them up when you can, dinner's just about ready," he said, limping back inside.

Uncle Tony went and did what he was told, literally whistling for his kids, calling them out like they were hogs.

"TJ! Esther! Molly! Jude! Kevin! Aaron!"

It brought them out, some from inside, some from around the backyard.

They assembled by age. TJ, tall and fit, stood next to Esther, who stood just under his shoulders. Then the twins Molly and Jude, who were my age, with twelve year old Kevin and Aaron the last. They struggled to keep a coherent line. Kevin didn't look up from the book he was reading, one of Grandpa's paperbacks. Aaron stuck his tongue out at TJ, who tried to swat at him over the heads of his siblings but clipped Kevin instead.

Like everyone else I'd seen them last at the funeral, but we hadn't been close knit in a while. They were practically strangers now, changed even since I'd last seen them. When I'd been really small I'd seen more of them, but after I'd turned ten or so we'd started to drift apart, meeting up only for things like this, Thanksgiving or Christmas, sometimes Easter.

I don't really know why but I'd always had the feeling Mom didn't like Uncle Tony.

Looking at them now after and everything I' been through, they really did look like strangers.

"Say hello to your cousin," Uncle Tony ordered. It was a funny way to make me feel welcome.

"Hi, city boy," TJ said. Esther waved.

"Now go wash up for dinner," Uncle Tony snapped. I guess he had to be half a drill sergeant with so many kids.

"You'll be bunking with Jude and Kevin," Dad said, handing out my bag, "Try to get along with your cousins."

"Yes sir," I said, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

The three of us were packed into a guest bedroom on the ground floor. By guest bedroom I meant Grandpa's study with a couple of old military bunks unfolded, bags stowed at their feet. Two walls of the room were covered in books, military fiction, fantasy novels, and military history from the Civil War up to WW2. An old computer sat on his desk, dusty and untouched.

Kevin lay on his bunk reading.

Maybe I should try to connect with my family again. It was Thanksgiving after all.

>spend time with my cousins
>spend time with the adults
>maybe just keep to myself

>>4677947
>spend time with my cousins

>spend time with my cousins

>>4677947
>spend time with my cousins
.brag about our superthot girlfriend who's totally real and not a tall tale

>>4677947
>spend time with my cousins

>>4677950
>>4677959
>>4677978
>>4678019
locked in

"What are you reading?" I asked Kevin.

He looked up from the pages, then looked back down.

"A book," he said.

Sarcastic little asshole. "Yeah, what book?" I said.

He tapped the cover as he kept reading. 'Sharpe's Eagle'. Looked Napoleonic. One of Grandpa's collection, he liked those sorts of books.

"This room stinks of nerd," TJ said, shoving me from behind. I turned around to see him dominating the doorway. "I heard you learned to bounce a ball up and down. Bet it took you weeks to figure out," he said.

"Yeah? I heard they made you captain of the football team. That's pretty progressive, I didn't know your school had a team for the mentally disabled."

"That's funny, it'll be funnier when you have a black eye," he raised his fist expecting me to flinch like I used to, like most people did. Maybe he saw something in the back of my eyes but it had him put the fist down, a mix of awkwardness and confusion written over his face.

"Leave him alone TJ," Esther said, "Would it kill you to be less of a stereotype?"

"Says you Miss Clarinet," he said, "'Asian girl plays classical music' isn't exactly breaking new ground."

"How have you been Eric?" she said, ignoring her brother.

I shrugged. "Fine," I said, "Congrats on the scholarship. Juliard? That's pretty cool."

"Well I don't have the scholarship yet," she said, "But working with Mr Lang has really upped my chances."

TJ rolled his eyes. "Mr Lang this, Mr Lang that. You'd think he walked on water. Dude, you're the one playing the music. He's just a glorified tutor."

"Would you guys shut up, I'm trying to read," Kevin snapped, "I've read the same line three times."

"Whatever," TJ said, but we hustled out, giving Kevin his privacy.

The living room was a quaint space with throw rungs over the couch and a laz-e-boy half extended with Molly playing her DS in it. Jude was somewhere else, probably still getting cleaned up for dinner. Esther stoked the fireplace to a low crackle, the night darkening outside, the heat of the fire keeping out the chill.

"Chicago," TJ said, "Big city living, bet it feels like a step down coming back here."

I shrugged.

"Must be good to get out of there though," Esther said, "It's so crazy there! All the gang violence, and now these para-freaks? The world's turning into a fantasy book."

"Monsters and goblins," TJ said, "Someone should do something about them. Round them up, lock 'em up. You know, something."

"You sound like Mom and Dad," Esther said.

"Yeah well, there's nothing wrong with defending ourselves," he said, "And we shouldn't wait until they start leaving Chicago. Those things are dangerous."

"Every guy at school is talking about picking up a rifle, getting in a truck and going upstate and 'sort it out'," Esther said, "But y'all are all talk. You won't do anything."

"I'm more worried about the rednecks with the rifles," Jude said, coming down the stairs while drying his hands, "There's no para-whatevers down here, but there's plenty of gunned up junkies looking for oxy. Hey Eric, wassup?"

"Hey Jude." If I was closest to any of my cousins it was Jude, both of us being boys the same age, both of us not quite fitting in with the kind of typical Indiana set.

"It's interesting times though," Jude said, "No doubt about that. You ever meet a para-freak?"

"Yeah Eric, you bump into one up there?" TJ asked.

>nothing worth mentioning
>I've met a couple

Juilliard

Not Juliard

>>4678082
>I've met a couple

Cuz ain't really a threat or anything, telling em a bit about our fucked up life while keeping all the important bits secret shouldn't do any harm

>>4678082
>I've met a couple
beat the shit out of an invisible guy once, it's a long story

>>4678082
>I've met a couple

>>4678148
>>4678102
>>4678100
locked in

Every time I look in the mirror, I thought.

"I've met a few," I said, "There was this kid at school who could turn invisible. Used it to stalk a friend of mine, Ayesha. But Hotspur got him so, nothing to worry about there."

"Hotspur, the superhero?" Jude said, "Oh he is just the finest thing."

Something in the way he said it made my head turn, the others did to.

"I mean he's cool right?" Jude said, wilting.

"Yeah, he's cool," TJ said, frowning, "Not as cool as Semper Fi though. You ever meet Semper Fi?"

I had, but not as 'me'. "Nah," I said.

"I'd give my left nut to talk to her," Jude said, maybe a little too strongly.

"I met a kid who could teleport though, he was cool," I said, "Thunderchild. We played against each other."

"Didn't he rob a bank?" Esther said, "All these guys end up being criminals. Is that what guys do with a bit of power? Just, whatever they feel like."

"Hotspur isn't a criminal," I pointed out. I also wasn't so sure Thunderchild robbed anyone. He didn't seem the type, it could have been a DPA stitch up. I wasn't going to voice that though.

"Technically he is," Esther said, "At least Semper Fi is deputized by the state."

"Hotspur does work with law enforcement though," I said, "Sometimes."

"I watched a video of him beating down a bunch of cops just doing their job," TJ said, "World Star you know. You can't trust him, man, Blue Lives Matter too."

My jaw clenched as anger flashed up in me. I didn't notice the change but I was standing, starting to square off with TJ. If he was going to talk about shit he'd only half heard...

"Let's not get into politics," Jude said, wedging himself between us. "It's pretty cool though," Jude said, "Getting to run around a city with real superheroes."

"Sounds more scary than cool," Esther said.

I shrugged. "Mostly it's whatever," I said, "You get used to it."

"Listen to this fancy cityslicker," TJ teased.

Before I could fire back Grandma called "Dinner's ready!" assembling us in the dining room.

Grandma was about what you'd want out of a Grandma, with wolly thick hair white as cotton, a wrinkled up face with an easy warm smile. She'd set out a spread, roast beef, mashed potatos, peas and gravy, with a couple of pies waiting for dessert. We took our seats around the table. If this was a foretaste to Thanksgiving dinner, even I might get fat by the time we got back to Chicago.

I sat between Esther and Jude. Both were full of questions about the big city as I speared a chunk of beef with my fork.

It was Dad however who was getting the real questions. "So I heard you've been seeing somebody," Grandma said, "It's good you aren't closing yourself up in the world, but isn't it a bit soon?"

Dad curled his shoulders self-conciously.

"Where'd you hear that?" he said.

"Oh I ran into Sylvia the other day, says she has you as a friend on Facebook. You remember Sylvia, the mousy girl you went to school with? My she was in love with you. Divorced now. She was asking if you'd be in for Thanksgiving and nentioned seeing you had photos online of a girl. Asked if you'd be bringing her home too."

"I barely use the damn facebook," he muttered over his peas, "There's enough gossip in the real world."

"I hear you brother," Uncle Tony said, "There's enough bullshit in the fake news as it is."

"So what's her name, what does she do?" Grandma asked, sweet as pie.

Dad coughed into his fist. "She's a teacher," he said.

"Oh honey this is like pulling hen's teeth," Grandma said, "We need a bit more than that."

"Her name's Carmen," he said, "Carmen Flores."

"Oh," Grandma lowered her fork.

Molly took out her phone and tapped away. "Is this her?" she said, holding up a facebook search result. There were a few 'Carmen Flores' there.

"It's not the one with the harelip is it?" Uncle Tony joked, looking to Auntie Liz.

Molly pressed on a profile and sure enough, it was a selfie of Ms Flores and Dad, together at the rink side of a hockey game, smiling into the camera.

Dad lowered his head.

"She's a bit...young," Auntie Liz offered with a blank look. Grandpa shovelled food into his mouth, chewing in silence, staring at nothing.

"She's a bit Mexican, you mean," Uncle Tony joked, elbowing his wife, "But good for you Joe, she's a real babe. I say have your fun where you want. No harm done."

Dad looked to me, then sighed. "I was going to ask her to move in," he said, "Next year, if she wanted."

Grandma dropped her folk. Everything got a lot more uncomfortable.

"This is ridiculous," Esther muttered, but like the rest of the kids they kept their eyes down.

Now I think I know why Mom had kept some distance from Dad's family.

"Do you have a problem with it?" Grandpa said, straight at his wife.

"Oh let's not get into it," she said.

"No, let's talk about it Nora, do you have a problem with it?"

Grandma's hands knotted in her lap. "It's just...we don't share the same culture, you know that. They barely speak English, and their neighborhoods are so dirty, so dangerous."

"Look at Indy these days," Uncle Tony said.

"She teaches Shakespeare," Dad muttered.

Grandpa pointed his steak knife at his wife. "Angel Reyes," he said, "Angel Reyes took a bullet on the Mekong Deltameant for me, had his guts blown out all over the top deck. Angel Reyes, Nora. I told you about him. And Charlie Longham, Roberto Estevez, all the rest. I've told you."

"Let's not get into this now for Pete's sake," she said.

"I thought you were coming around when we hired Juanita to clean the house," he said, "You both got on friendly like."

"With respect Grandpa Miller," Uncle Tony said, "But this isn't about you or your wife, and it doesn't warrant your tone."

Grandpa stabbed his knife into his cut of beef, a dark look like I'd never seen on his face. "Don't you tell me how to talk to my wife Captain Stateside," he said.

"Easy everyone, easy," Auntie Liz said, coming in as peacemaker, "It's not even Thanksgiving yet. Can we save the brawl until after we cook the turkey?"

Grandpa settled in his chair, bristling. But slowly he settled, and turned a smile to his daughter. "You're right," he said, "Let's try to respect household traditions."

It got a laugh from everyone at least, even a nervous chuckle from Grandma.

Grandpa started salting his beef. "You know I never mention this but, I dated a black girl before I met your mother," he said, "Your pop-pop called me a negro lover. Except he didn't say 'negro'."

"Ulysses, please!" Grandma said, too shocked to eat. Grandpa caught me looking and winked.

It was an uncomfortable dinner and dessert didn't make it much better. All of us kids were happy when it was over and could go our own way.

When we turned in for the night I lay in the dark listening to Kevin snoring.

"Hey Eric," Jude whispered. I turned my head. "Do you think I could come live with you guys one day?" he said, "In Chicago?"

I frowned, hearing the nerves in his voice. "Why? What's wrong with Indiana?" I said.

"Only I hear in Chicago, people are a lot more...tolerant," he said.

"Eric," he said. I could hear the pulse in his voice, an edge of fear. "I-I'm..."

But whatever he was going to say he swallowed up.

"Goodnight Eric," he said.

I could guess what he was going to say. I didn't imagine it would be easy for him to say it.

"Goodnight Jude," I said.

He rolled over and fell asleep. But I was still awake, listening to the creak of the house, and all its occupants snoring.

Dear god these people are literally All the southern stereotypes.

Snow had fallen overnight. Not enough to blanket the whole street but there was enough fresh powder for a snowball fight. The cousins raced out in their pyjamas, flinging smnow back and forth. Whatever 'unpleasantness' from last night was left last night. Old folks just being old, I figured. Esther laughed as white snow burst over her hair, then nailed TJ in the chest.

I jumped when little Aaron dumped a fistful down the back of my pants.

"Jesus," I said, "You really are a little turd."

He laughed and ran away, hiding behind grandma's hedges. The only one not joining in was Kevin, who watched from the front porch.

Dad came out with a hot cup of coffee, steam rising over a tired face. Auntie Liz came out next, put an arm around his side and her head on his shoulder, the both of them watching us play.

I wondered if it had snowed in Chicago. I wondered if Kay and her siblings were doing the same thing we were, chucking loose balls of snow across the street, laughter filling the air. Like there wasn't any evil in the world and everything was going to be okay.

Molly stopped in front of me grinning face pale but cheeks red. Then a snowball burst across her head, a look of surprise on her face as she shrieked with laughter.

'What spilled out of the back of her head mixed with her long brown curls. She dropped, kicked, twitching on the floor as things inside trickling out, twitching as she tried to get up.'

My lungs squeezed, breathing hard. I could smell the cordite in the air, the strong smell of people's innards ventillated. Something must have shown on my face because the game started to slow down.

"You okay Eric?" Molly asked, snow dripping down her cheek.

I tried to say something but could barely get out a nod, my breathing growing rapid and hard.

"Just...cold..." I managed, staggering to the front deck. Kevin raised a silent eyebrow at me. My teeth were clenched hard, but my breathing was starting to settle.

I rubbed my arms.

>get it together and rejoin the game
>maybe take it easy for a sec

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec
Oh no
The fire cannot last in the cold

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec

The last thing we need is to accidentally hurt one of them because of a snowball

I'm tired guys so I'm going to leave this here and get back to it tomorrow

vote stays open until I do

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec

ugh, busy every night this week
damn you real life

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec
Oh no, soon Eric will be hitting the deck on the 4th of July.

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec

>>4678278
>maybe take it easy for a sec
"Why yes, I do have PTSD. How could you tell?"

Poor Jude.

>>4678862
Considering it's current year, Jude should be fine as long as he ain't living in the sticks, plenty of tolerant southern folk in the urban areas

>>4678862
>>4678827
>>4678499
>>4678467
>>4678416
>>4678385
locking that in

also Indiana isn't in the south, its part of the midwest

"I think I need to take a knee," I said, walking stiffly over to the porch step.

I sat down, squeezing my eyes shut, opening them, trying to steady my breathing. The lull in the game ended and soon everyone was back to flinging snowballs at each other. One hit Kevin in the shoulder, earning Molly his evil eye. But the screaming laughter faded out as I closed my eyes, focusing on the fire inside me.

As I did the anxiety slipped away, my nerves steadied, my breathing became regular. Steam rose from my arms, snow melting on my hot skin. I hoped no one noticed.

There was a polite cough and I turned my head to see Aaron standing at the rail.

"Sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to make you sick."

I shook my head. "It's cool," I said, "I'm not sick. A bit of snow down my pants isn't going to hurt me."

That cheered up the little boy at least, who broke into a grin. I packed a snowball especially hard, handed it to him and pointed out TJ.

"Hit him in the balls," I suggested, and he sprinted off with a mischievous giggle.

By the time the game stopped everyone was wet with melting snow, faces chapped and breath steaming. Grandma called us in for a waffle breakfast. Esther dried out her long black hair, Jude changed into a dry sweater.

I got a text from Kay. A blushing smile emoji, and attached was a picture of her in front of an ugly snowman with stick arms and her dad's police hat on its head, her giving a peace sign beside it. God she was cute in the snow, the red in her auburn hair standing out stronger against all the white.

"Whose she?" Jude asked.

"My girlfriend," I said.

"She's cute," Jude said.

"Let me see," TJ said, trying to grab my phone.

"Which one's that," Dad said, coming in for breakfast, "The cheerleader or the blonde?"

I blushed. "Excuse me?" Auntie Liz said with feigned shock.

"Oh yeah, the kid's a player," Dad said, "I don't really approve but, what can you do?"

"Ivy isn't my girlfriend," I said.

"Which one's Ivy?" Auntie Liz asked.

"The blonde, I think," Dad said, "There's the black girl too."

Auntie Liz gave me an impressed look.

"Ayesha has a boyfriend," I said. Even if I didn't like him. "Ayesha and Ivy are just my friends. A guy can be friends with a girl, its not always about sex."

"Who mentioned sex?" Dad said.

"Like you'll ever get any, virgin," TJ said, finally getting my phone off me. I nearly snapped at him about not being a virgin but Dad was right there and he didn't know yet. Plus it was just an awkward thing to mention in front of my family. He scrowled through my pictures. "Yeah, yeah she's all right," TJ said, "Not as good as my girl."

"You've got another bimbo?" Esther said as she carved into a waffle.

"Yeah," TJ said, "What can I say, brain dead girls are more fun."

"I'm sure watching them shop is a riot," Esther said, popping a chunk of syrup coated waffle into her mouth.

"Better than another dusty old museum," TJ said, "Anyway you're just jealous because you can't get a boyfriend."

"Maybe I would if you hadn't put the last one in the hospital," she said.

"Hey, that wasn't my fault, he stepped in front of my car," TJ said.

"Right after kissing me? Whatever, get bent," she stabbed her waffle, glowering at it.

"I did you a favor, he was a loser anyway," TJ muttered.

"Bicker, bicker, bicker," Auntie Liz said, "I don't know about you, Joe, but I'd rather our kids spent more time focusing on school rather than sneaking out on dates."

"I don't know Liz, I think they should enjoy themselves while they can," Dad replied.

"They can, when they go to a good college," Liz leaned over and pinched Esther's cheek, "Like my little girl heading off to New York City! Oh I'll be worried about you."

"Don't know what's so bad about going to Indiana U," TJ muttered.

"Maybe the fact you'll be there?" Esther said, pushing her mom's pinching fingers away. For a second I saw a look of real hurt cross TJ's face, so quick I wondered if I'd even seen it.

"Good point, I could use a break from you," TJ said, "I always thought Mom and Dad should have shipped you back to Korea after they finally had a real kid."

The slap came quick and knocked the chunk of half chewed waffle out of TJ's mouth. The look on Auntie Liz's face was scary.

"Apologize to your sister," she said. TJ, even Esther, stared in shock.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "We were just talkin' trash."

"I said to your sister, Thomas-Joshua," she said.

"Sorry Es," he said, barely looking her in the eye.

"It's fine," Esther replied, looking more uncomfortable than TJ did. But it put a smile on Auntie Liz's face.

"Good," she said, settling into her own food, "Very good."

Grandma came in with a pitcher of juice. "My what a rambunctious morning," she said, pouring us kids a glass each. "Would you like seconds, Eric?"

"I've never known him to say 'no'," Dad said behind his coffee.

For the rest of the day we mostly did nothing. Jude tried to hook his playstation up to our grandparents tv, but gave up when he couldn't find the right port. "It's like something out of the Flintstones," he muttered at the big box in the corner.

That left not a lot to do.

The only person who found something to occupy his time was Kevin, nose deep in a book.

"You know its deer season," Uncle Tony mentioned, "Wouldn't take much to get a permit, we could take the boys out hunting."

"When was the last time we went on a hunting trip?" Grandpa asked Dad.

Dad shrugged. "Since before Eric was born."

"Might be time for another then," he said, "What do you kids think, want to go hunting? Get ourselves a deer?"

There were general shrugs. Only TJ and Esther seemed eager.

"What about you, kid?" Dad asked, "Want to go hunting with your old man?"

>no thanks, I'm not a fan of hunting
>sure, it could be fun

>>4679476
>sure it could be fun

I don't think Eric is squeamish at this point, plus we have to familiarize ourselves with guns if we're going to keep getting shot by them

You can't fight something you don't understand, even batman is super familiar with guns despite absolutely despising them

>>4679476
>sure, it could be fun

>>4679476
>sure, it could be fun

>>4679523
>>4679521
>>4679510
locked in for hunting

Ah shit wait we're gonna have another PTSD episode aren't we

>>4679554
Don't see why, we are regularly getting shot at and are going to be in "hunter" mode.

I can get the sudden bout of ptsd since we saw an "innocent" get attacked, but this time we're the one who is attacking.

It would feel like some tumblr angst bullshit if we suddenly started getting ptsd every single time something remotely like what happens to us regularly happens

"Could be fun," I said. Hunting was pretty common where I'd grown up, the only reason we'd never done it is because Mom disapproved, and Dad preferred fishing anyway. But I was eager to spend more time with Grandpa.

"We could drive up to Kingsbury tomorrow morning," Uncle Tony said, "Get the permits and everything sorted tonight."

"You bring your rifle up with you?" Grandpa asked. Uncle Tony nodded. "Well okay, sounds like a plan."

"You have your own gun, Joe?" Uncle Tony asked.

Dad shook his head. "Haven't handled a gun in a while," he said.

"This will be good," Uncle Tony said, "Just us and the boys."

"Oh no," Auntie Liz said, "If you're going hunting you're taking Esther and Molly with you. Last time you went without Molly she spent all weekend crying. And Aaron is no where near old enough to be around you yahoos shooting guns."

"He's just a scamp, he'll be fine," Uncle Tony said, but his wife had her way.

So it was arranged for us, Me, Jude, Kevin, Molly, TJ and Esther, to head up to Kingsbury preserve for some hunting with Uncle Tony, Dad, and Grandpa. Kevin didn't want to come but his dad didn't give him much choice. For their part Esther and TJ imagined they'd already bagged the King of the Forest.

"You couldn't take a deer if it was sitting at your feet," Esther said.

"I can thread a ball half way down a field with three screaming rednecks trying to take me out," TJ replied, "And anyway, last time we went hunting you nearly blew my foot off."

"You took off your vest, and the pheasant was right there," she said.

"I think you wanted to hit me," he said.

But before then we had another family dinner, this time with a guest.

"You'll never imagine who I ran into at the store," Auntie Liz said. Whoever the guy was who stepped in, I didn't recognize him. Some bespeckled weed in a sports coat with a layer of gray stubble on a weak jawline. He smiled around as he came in, hands in his pockets, dark hair combed into a careful carelessness. He could have been any age from 30 to a youthful 45.

"Mr Lang!" Esther said, perked up, tail wagging. Her music teacher, I didn't see what there was to get excited about.

"Hey there Peter," Uncle Tony said, shaking his hand, "Funny seeing you up here. Enjoying the school break?"

"Oh I'm keeping myself busy," he said, "Good evening Esther, you've been keeping up with your homework?"

"Yes sir," she said with a salute, grinning wide.

"Good girl," he replied.

"I thought since its Thanksgiving and all, and he's been so good to our Esther, we could have him over for dinner. That isn't a problem, is it Mom?"

"Oh the more the better I say," Grandma said as she set the table. Esther jumped to help, setting the places.

"I'm just happy to be out of the cold," Mr Lang said, smiling around, "And really, students like Esther make my job a lot easier. All I've done is help her do what she already could."

"Don't be so humble, she has absolutely flourished with your help," Auntie Liz said, plucking a string from his sleeve.

We took our seats, most of the talk split between the hunting trip tomorrow and our guest.

"So you ever been hunting, Peter?" Uncle Tony asked.

"Oh me? No, I grew up in the city," he said.

"That's right, you're from Chicago originally," Auntie Liz said, "Why'd you leave the hustle and bustle of a big city like that behind?"

"Exactly that reason Liz, the hustle and bustle," he said, "I like the slower pace out here."

A music teacher from Chicago. It pricked my nerves and made me think of Ivy and her situation. But I was being paranoid. The odds of my cousin's tutor being the same one who took advantage of Ivy were low. Or high. I could never remember which it was with odds.

"We recently moved to Chicago," Dad said, "Where did you teach?"

Can't be. No way. Then he mention my school by name and my stomach dropped. I stared at the chicken on my plate, a dull roar in my ears. Then I watched him smile across the table at Esther, watched her smile back, shyly, knowingly. The fork twisted in my grip, fire burning in my gut.

"Something the matter, kid?" Grandpa asked, watching me with concern.

>nothing, sorry, just daydreaming
>do you know an Ivy Chambers, Mr Lang?

>>4679589
>do you know an Ivy Chambers, Mr Lang?
Maybe text Ivy to ask if he's the guy

>>4679589
>nothing, sorry, just daydreaming

We need confirmation before we kill him and bury the body, CONFIRMATION

>>4679589
>do you know an Ivy Chambers, Mr Lang?
"She had a lot to say about you! Do you want to tell my family or should I do it?"
Thinly veiled enough - leave before I make you

>>4679601
Fuck, as much as I want him to have a "hunting accident," I think there will be consequences with our family from it. He isn't worth destroying our family over.

be back in a sec

>>4679655
>>4679594
locked in

writing

I slid my phone out into my lap and fired off a text to Ivy.

Me - Peter Lang.

The dinner continued. Mr Lang said something that made Auntie Liz throw her head back with laughter, a little smile of his own as he sipped a beer. It was about ten minutes before I got a text back.

Ivy - Don't do it Eric

I clicked away.

Me - Do what?

Ivy - Whatever you think he deserves. Don't.

Me - he...

It was hard to even think it. 'He raped you'. I couldn't even type it. The fire inside me rose.

Me - he's creeping on my cousin.

She didn't reply but I knew she'd seen my message. I stared back at Mr Lang, sitting across from Esther. She'd barely looked away from him while they ate, and when he turned to look at her his gaze lingered, lips pursed in a tiny smile. Scum. Sitting there joking with her parents while he...

Complete scum. My phone pinged.

Ivy - Whatever you do, don't kill him.

Ivy - Not for my sake. For yours. Please. Don't. Eric. Don't. Don't break my heart.

My heart thumped, the image of her coming to mind. I looked at Mr Lang again, closed my eyes, forced a smile.

"Passing love notes?" Grandma asked, "We don't allow phones at the dinner table Eric."

"Sorry Grandma," I said, slipping it away.

"I think a weekend course would do Esther a world of good," Mr Lang said, "There's an overnight workshop you can sign her up for if you're interested. It costs money, but I think it's worth it."

"Oh anything for our daughter," Aunt Liz said. Mr Lang smiled, bright white teeth chomping on sweet potato.

It took all my self control not to lunge across the table.

"So Mr Lang," I said, "Sir. I have a question."

"Go ahead sport," he said, though he barely looked my way.

"Did you ever teach some called Ivy Chambers?"

Now I had his attention, head rising sharp. "The name's familiar," he said, cutting at his chicken, "Oh yeah, that's right. She was a student of mine back in Chicago. Kind of a troublemaker if I recall. Didn't really stand out much though. Why, do you know her?"

"She's a friend of mine," I said. And she's the only reason I haven't ripped your head off, I thought still smiling.

"I don't remember you from school," he said.

"We moved to Chicago this year," Dad said, "You just missed him."

I held my smile as best I could, fire burning me up inside. Smile tight and pulled into place.

"She had a lot to say about you," I said.

"Well, good things only I hope," he said. I could smell his fear. Like cat piss. His fear or his lying or just his evil. It stunk up the place, came off him so thick I don't know how anyone else could stand it. "Though, you know, now that I think about it, she was a little bit obsessed with me. That's right, I remember she wrote me a love letter. Very flattering but sort of embarrassing."

"I bet you have your share of schoolgirl crushes Peter," Uncle Tony said, "Why sometimes I worry about our esther the way she goes on."

"Oh no, Mr Lang is a gemtleman," Esther said, but with a sideways glance at me, telling me with a look to shut up.

"It's natural for a girl to have a crush on an older man," Aunt Liz said, "I remember when I was in school..."

"Eric," Grandpa said, his voice low, "What did your friend Ivy say?" I looked to Grandpa. He had a sober look, locked on mine, with a deadly seriousness in his voice.

>...nothing but good things, like Mr Lang said
> nothing fit for a dinner table
> well he raped her for a start

>>4679802
> well he raped her for a start
He shouldn't be anywhere near young girls.

>>4679816
Support
Get this guy AWAY from our cousin - lock him up

>>4679802
> well he raped her for a start

Fuck our cousins wants, Fuck proprietary, and Fuck if all of them hate us for this

There are things worth burning all the bridges in the world for

>>4679802
> well he raped her for a start
gotta resist the urge to beat the shit out of him, that'll get us in juvie

>>4679859
>>4679857
>>4679821
>>4679816
locked in

"Well he raped her for a start," I said.

I didn't give a shit how shocking it was. He didn't deserve innuendos or propriety, and I didn't care if this wasn't 'appropriate' dinner table conversation.

The accussation immediately had Auntie Liz and Grandma gasp in shock, Grandma looking like she might faint. No one else took it much better, with Uncle Tony's brow furrowed in confusion. Esther swallowed her tongue while TJ looked ready to get out of his chair and start over the dinner table.

"Now, now calm down," Mr Lang fumbled for words, "That's a very strong accusation. I uh, I don't think if you knew the context you'd believe her. Ivy was...is a very manipulative girl."

"Do you believe her, Eric?" Grandpa asked.

I looked to the old man, the wintery polar bear with the dark look on his face.

"I do," I said.

"You're a liar," Esther said, looking ready to start crying, "Your friend is a liar. Peter already told me everything. Mom, he already told me about Chicago. She came on to him."

"So it's Peter now?" TJ spat, Jude and Kevin having to hold him back from climbing over the table. Mr Lang backed away.

"Did you sleep with a little girl, Mr Lang?" Grandpa asked him.

Mr Lang was sweating. "It...she come on to me, I tried to turn her down but...it was one time..."

"Are you sleeping with my granddaughter?" he asked bluntly.

Mr Lang looked like he wanted to be anywhere else right now.

"I'm seventeen," Esther said, "It's legal, I looked it up. There's nothing wrong about it and he...I love him. Mom, Dad, please! I love him!"

Grandpa just nodded while my aunt and uncle looked lost for words.

"Back in 'Nam," he said, "We had this gunner on the boat. Good man, for the most part. He watched our backs, we watched his. Funny guy too, could get us all laughing even after a real shit storm. But he had this thing. See in country you take what comfort you can get, we all had a whore or two even if some wouldn't admit it Stateside. But his preference was always younger than the rest. 'Can't get this back home!' he'd say. None of us approved but we turned a blind eye. He was a good gunner and he kept us safe on the river. And when you turn a blind eye once, it gets easier each time."

Grandpa kept his focus square on Mr Lang. His gravelly voice drew all our focus on him.

"But the war ended," he said, "We went home. Some of us did anyway. And after a while, after a couple of reunions, we found out he'd taken a teaching job. At a middle school. Well we could turn a blind eye on the river but not back home. So we organized a hunting trip, just us vets all starting to get fat. We went up the Rocky Mountains, and then we went home. Well some us did anyway. Do you get what I'm saying, Mr Lang?"

Mr Lang dabbed sweat from his brow. Grandpa frowned, shook his head.

"No, if you really did you wouldn't still be sitting there," he said, "Best you start running."

Mr Lang rose from his chair. "Esther," he started.

"Don't talk to her," Grandpa said, "Don't even look at her. Just get going before I get unfriendly."

Mr Lang marched for the door. Esther sat with tears streaming down her face. When TJ tried to say something to her she just got up and stalked out of the room. Auntie Liz got up and followed her out.

"Well," Grandma said, "My appetite is ruined."

Dad got up, collecting plates, helping wash up. The other kids, Uncle Tony, all sat shell shocked while I glared at Mr Lang's empty chair.

Grandpa got up. "Eric, you mind if we have a talk?" he said, "Just you and me."

I nodded stiffly.

He took me to his study, where our bunks were set up, closed the door so it was just the two of us.

"You don't hesitate to throw a hand grenade do you?" he said with dark humor.

"Grandpa?" I said.

He took me around the shoulders and sat me down.

"I heard some stories about what's going on with you up in Chicago," he said, "You were in the hospital pretty badly beaten, and maybe your uncle believed you cut yourself shaving but I know a stab wound when I see one." He pushed up the sleeve of my shirt to show the narrow slice from Baby Girl's sword up my forearm. "This one too. No kind of fifteen year old should have scars like that. I bet if you took your shirt off you'd have more. Am I right?"

I shrugged. "Chicago is a rough town," I said.

"But its the way you looked at him," he said, "The way you talked. Like he was a bug you coulda squashed with one hand. You've stared down some bad men before, haven't you?"

I curled my shoulders, breathing hard. He got up and went to his desk, pulled out a bottle of whiskey from a drawer with a couple of glasses.

"You don't got to admit it," he said, "But you're one of those para-whatevers, aren't you?"

He poured me a glass, handed it over. I stared at the amber drink, swirling between my hands.

"You should be worried about Esther," I muttered.

"Esther has her parents," he said, sitting back down next to me, taking a sip.

>drink in silence, let the old man think whatever he wanted
>Grandpa, I'm Hotspur

>>4679975
>Grandpa, I'm Hotspur

>>4679975
>Grandpa, I'm Hotspur
And I'm not gonna stop.

>>4679975
>Grandpa, I'm Hotspur
But before we say this, put our phone out of earshot distance and run a super sense scan of our surroundings.